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aldbooks · 1 year

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35 for Gwynriel or 23 for Elucien? 😍

Prompt list

First of all, I plan to answer both of these, because they're excellent choices, but the Elucien idea came to me easier so you can have that one first...

"Have you ever wondered what it would feel like to fall in love?"

---

Elain stared at the door in disbelief as she heard the click of the lock slide in place, trapping her inside. Betrayal sparked through her, hot and sharp, only fanned higher as she heard an exasperated sigh behind her and whipped around to face the bane of her immortal existence. Her mate.

Lucien had squeezed his eyes shut as he rubbed the space between his brows, before they snapped open again and that strange mechanical orb that served as his left eye scanned the door and then the room. "They've warded us in here as well," he stated dryly. "It's a good bit of spellwork, not that I couldn't break it if given enough time, but frankly I'm exhausted and haven't the energy. And Feyre knows that. This was a setup."

She scoffed quietly. A set up indeed. Elain had been enjoying her afternoon in the garden with her newly blooming roses when Feyre had called her in. She'd made it seem urgent so Elain had dropped everything and rushed inside to the room Feyre had indicated, only to find the small parlor occupied by only one figure. That last person she wanted to see. She'd skidded to a stop, stammering a half hearted apology and turned on her heel but before she could reach the door, it had slammed shut on a phantom, dark wind and been locked magically. From the outside.

The only thing that made her feel better was that Lucien seemed no more inclined to be locked in a room with her than she was with him. Thinking her energy might be better spent directing her anger at the person- or more likely persons- (her brother-in-law was a horribly nosy busybody these days) who had orchestrated this entire scenario. she balled her hands into fists, and shouted her sisters name in her mind, watching as Lucien flinched.

"Don't bother," he sighed, dropping down into a chair. His entire posture as he slouched against the back, his long legs sprawling out across the carpet was pure indolence, and despite herself, she found it oddly charming. "The wards include mental communication. From our side at least. I have no doubt they're monitoring this room from somewhere and have no intention of letting either of us out until they're satisfied with whatever goal they'd hoped to achieve. You might as well make yourself comfortable."

He waved a hand at the only other seat in the room which happened to be across from him. It was only then she noticed the lack of the usual sofas and chairs that littered the room to accommodate their friends who liked to stop by unexpectedly. Well played, sister. She could've sworn she felt a trickle of amusement filter back to her at the thought.

With a deep breath for fortification, Elain carefully took the seat across from him, keeping her gaze on him the whole time. She wasn't sure what exactly she expected him to do, he'd just told her they were stuck in this room for the foreseeable future. It wasn't as though he could just grab her and whisk her away somewhere, force her to accept the bond and do mother only knew what to her. Did she really expect that her sister and Rhysand would just sit by while he- what? Ravaged her in this room against her will?

Would it really be against your will? some traitorous part of her whispered darkly. She shook the thought off, fighting the rising well of desire the thought brought. For some reason she couldn't fathom, she was attracted to this male. Though he seemed to be the exact opposite of the sort she normally was attracted to. What? Mysterious, handsome males with dark hair and wings? Or perhaps pretentious lords with lots of money and even more prejudice?

A growl slipped out of her before she could stop it. Lucien, who had leaned his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes, slid one open. Russet peered at her curiously as she smoothed her skirts and generally pretended she hadn't just made such an inhuman noise. With a soft sniff, he closed the eye again and resumed his relaxed position.

She took the opportunity to look him over, noticing the signs of exhaustion he had hinted at before. His clothes looked as though they'd been worn for a long time, the collar of his shirt gaped open more than usual, his waistcoat half unbuttoned, his long hair had been pulled back in a sort of half bun that looked hastily done and there were dark shadows in the golden skin under his eyes. The steady cadence of his breath told her he was on the verge of falling asleep already. He looked so dishevled, almost vulnerable, she felt herself softening towards him, the bond between them urging her to see to his comfort. Which, of course, only served to piss her off.

"Why are you so tired?" she blurted out, a bit harsher than she intended. He jerked slightly, his eyes blinking open as though he truly had fallen asleep.

"I just returned from a trip to the continent to discuss trade agreements," he explained, his voice rough. "I was headed back to Spring to rest before seeing to my obligations there when Rhysand reached out, insisting I report immediately instead of later this week as originally planned. The extra winnowing was an excessive drain on my power."

Well, that certainly explained his appearance and unusually unguarded manner. A niggling of concern for him began to swell up, but she quickly squashed it. He was nearly three hundred year old, he could handle himself.

When she said nothing in response, he gave a little sigh and closed his eyes again. Politeness dictated she let him sleep, he certainly seemed to need it. But she was so agitated and uncomfortable at the situation they'd found themselves in, she couldn't seem to keep her mouth shut.

"What do you want?"

This time he lifted his head to look at her fully. "I beg your pardon?"

She blushed at his scrutiny. His gaze had always felt too much. Too intense, too longing, too sad, too hungry, too disappointed. Now, it was too curious. He watched her like he was trying to see straight through to the heart of her. She disliked feeling so exposed. She wished she could keep her mouth shut and ignore him, but she'd never been good at silence. Especially the last few years since... She stopped that train of thought before it could gain steam.

One of her favorite things about living with Feyre and Rhysand, was that their house was never quiet, even when they weren't there. The servants were friendly and kind, and the other members of their group had a tendency to trope in and out of the house without invitation as though it were their own homes. And with a toddler in the house now, there was always something going on.

Lately though, she'd found herself wanting- not more exactly, but something... different. It had taken her a while to realize that this longing she felt was because she wished for a family of her own. She had expected to already have one with Graysen by now, but that path had been taken from her several years ago now. It was time to move on. Still, she could not help but still want those things, and the more she thought about wanting them, the more she felt that little golden string in her chest tugging her in one clear direction. A direction she stubbornly resisted. She would not allow some mystical cauldron, the same one that had turned her fae and taken away that future with Graysen, to dictate where her life would lead her now. She refused to accept this fate that had been decided for her. Perhaps that was silly. As a seer herself, she understood the inevitability of fate and the longer she avoided it, the sillier it seemed, but she would not give in... at least, not yet.

Deciding this was as good a time as any to address some things that had been left unsaid between them for long enough, Elain drew herself up, squared her shoulders and addressed him with the same frankness he watched her with. "What is it you want from me?"

He sat with that preternatural stillness that fae had that still unnerved her, though she knew she sometimes did it herself when deep in thought. Finally, he replied. Just one word that threw her entirely off balance. "Nothing."

She blinked in surprise. "I'm sorry? Nothing? What do you mean?"

"Just that," he said simply. "I have no expectation of you. I never have. I know this is all foreign to you, just as it was for your sisters. I have no intention of rushing you into something you're not ready for- or do not want."

She stared at him, realizing her mouth had fallen open, but could not seem to close it as she gaped at him. "I- you-" came her very intelligent reply. "You... do not wish to formalise the bond?"

He seemed amused by that for a second before shrugging and leaning back in seat once more. "I know most fae might think it strange, but I know that mating bonds are not the end all be all. They do not always guarantee a harmonious union." He said nothing else for a long moment before continuing, his words careful. "I do hope to have a family- some day. Currently, I'm not in a position to readily support one, however. I travel constantly, have no steady home..."

She could hear the sadness in his voice. The longing. Sympathy for him washed over her in a sudden flash of understanding. He wanted a home. Something so simple, something she took for granted. To her, home was not a place. It was not a structure; bricks and mortar. It was the people in it. The companionship and belonging. She'd been displaced from the houses she'd lived in several times already, but she was young, and now immortal. There would be plenty of time to settle. When she was ready.

But for someone as old as Lucien, who had spent most of their life moving from place to place, on the whims of others, what might home mean to them?

If he saw or sensed her thoughts, he did not say. "I do not know you well, but from what I do know, I think we might suit. I had hoped to eventually have the time to determine that for ourselves but... there's no rush. And, as I said, I do not wish to push you into something you do not want."

Her heart gave a slight flutter. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you think we'd suit?"

He gave her his full attention once more, his expression cautious. "Well, I believe we have similar temperments. Similar values. You are loyal, caring, resilient-" that fluttering in her heart increased. She wasn't sure anyone had ever referred to her as resilient. People had a tendency to treat her like a doll. fragile and breakable...

He shrugged and she realized he'd continued speaking but she hadn't heard what he'd said. "I think, if given time to know one another, we could be good partners. If that is something you want."

"That's all you want? A partner?"

His face was unreadble as he shrugged once more.

That soft, romantic part of her that still wanted things she'd thought lost to her, rose up. "Truly? You want nothing more? What about connection? Desire? Love? Have you never wondered what it would be like to fall in love?"

A painfully familiar emotion flickered over his features. "I don't need to wonder," he said quietly. For a moment, she felt a stirring of panic before she realized he was no longer looking at her. Or rather, he was, but he did not seem to see her. His gaze was distant, unfocused. He wasn't speaking about her. Of course he wasn't. He'd just told her he did not know her well. Why would he be speaking of her?

"Oh," she said, another flash of understanding hitting her in the chest.

He laughed softly, the sound achingly sad, almost bitter. "I've lived for almost three centuries, Elain. Did you truly think I'd never been in love in all that time?"

Her face heated. She had thought that. Though why she'd even thought such a ridiculous thing she wasn't sure. "I- I'm sorry."

He nodded his acceptance, reclining once more, his eyes closing, a clear indication he did not wish to speak on it anymore. Of course, after such a revelation, she definitely could not contain herself. "Who was she?" she asked.

He froze, and for a moment, she did not think he would answer. Then he sighed, the sound filled with a sort of grief she could not quite fathom despite her own losses. "Her name was Jesminda," he breathed.

And then, he told her the saddest story she'd ever heard.

#writing prompts #elucien angst #elucien #lucien and elain #lucien x elain #elain x lucien #elain and lucien

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true-blue-sonic · 5 months

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When people criticize the "optimist but also a realist line" I think they're confusing optimism for idealism(which is the opposite of realism) Silver always tries to see the best in people and his situation but he's still very pragmatic.

I proposed this ask to the number 1 hater of "optimist but also a realist" in the world, and their inquiry was whether Silver is pragmatic to begin with. So I went and looked up that term, coming to the conclusion it means something along the line of "the quality of dealing with a problem in a sensible way that suits the conditions that really exist, rather than following fixed theories, ideas, or rules" or "a practical, matter-of-fact way of approaching or assessing situations or of solving problems". So... practical, going for the most logical solution, following your mind instead of your feelings.

As for whether Silver is pragmatic... hm, I would actually say yes and no! We see in especially '06 that, when presented with a solution that sounds logical and clear-cut, he'll take it with no hesitation. Furthermore, when his argument with Amy leads him to having doubts about whether he's doing the right thing and what "the right thing" is in the first place, Blaze's encouragement that nothing will change if they don't take this chance makes him try the exact same course of action once more. Thus, he's still following the "logical" and "clear" situation despite his feelings on the matter. But all that goes right out the window at the end of the game, with Blaze's sacrifice. Silver is distraught! He all but begs her not to do it: he says he can't do that to Blaze, he doesn't know what to do without her, he even questions their friendship, and yet he can't make himself stop her. All these are incredibly emotional things! And even if the most logical action there is to make Blaze go through it to save the world, which she herself points out is their end goal... Silver can't do it. It is Blaze who activates the Emeralds and seals herself away in the end.

Of course, '06 is the extreme example, but I can think of a few others where Silver is more pragmatic. In Forces, he's the one suggesting sending their Rookie right into Eggman-occupied territory as a distraction, despite the fact the Rookie is about the least experienced person there. He's also the one pointing out that they can't take out Eggman's Mystic Jungle base if he's got a factory active for supplies. Also, don't forget him just not caring for what Knuckles named Operation Big Wave in favour of the strategy being good, haha. And at the start of Forces, he is indeed the one trying to move everyone away from their feelings of despair and (then-believed to be misplaced) hope of Sonic's survival, focusing instead on rallying the people and turning the tides. But I would say also here he's got moments of more emotion-fuelled responses and ideas, like shooting down Infinite's comment about there "being no hope" through simply stating he is lying (which I figure means Silver himself does still have hope and other such positive emotions). And, as pointed out by my friend: the whole reason Silver takes a pragmatic approach in the first place is because of his desires for justice and happiness for everybody, which can indeed make him more emotion-fuelled and snappy, like in the Rivals games. The pragmatic approach is plowing through everybody and getting back Eggman Nega and that is what he is doing, but how it takes form in practice is definitely shaped as well by emotions like irritation and impatience (which actively works against him at times, I would even say). So overall, I can agree with the idea that Silver is somewhat of a pragmatic person, but that pragmatism does not take away his emotions and his desires. And multiple bios and such state he wears his heart on his sleeve and keeps up a positive mindset despite his past.

I feel as if I'm getting a bit off-track from your ask, apologies. But overall, I can see where you are coming from. Pragmatism and realism are noted to be synonyms, and Silver is indeed not a character who lets his optimistic mindset take over everything he does. In a way, I would say this is yet another of the dualities that makes up Silver's character! His emotions and optimism lead to him desiring justice and happiness and a world that is safe, and the way to get there for him is through an approach that he deems logical and "the best way". But the best way is shaped by his black-and-white thinking and tunnel vision, meaning he is likely to pick fights with people simply because he perceives them as opposition, and meaning it will take a long time for him to change his mind even when his views are challenged or proven wrong. So I guess he can indeed be an optimist (wanting happiness for others, possessing a positive mindset wherein he endlessly believes in himself and his friends and rarely gives up hope) but also a realist (knowing the world isn't only sunshine and rainbows, not afraid to take action to protect what he cares about, doing what he himself deems the most logical).

Though, to be quite honest... I think that a criticism many people have about the line is that it simply sounds silly, haha. Just not something you'd expect a person to point out so randomly in a conversation about your friend you all think got murdered six months ago. But you might certainly be correct in that it doesn't seem to be as big a contradiction as people perceive it as. Perhaps with a better word choice, that would have been clearer? In Japanese he apparently says "I wish I could believe that, but the reality is... Sonic is gone. And Tails... he's still missing." You could argue that him saying he wishes he could believe that is indicative of his more optimistic hopeful mindset, but immediately after he points out that the reality is that Sonic is gone: thus, there is no place for empty wishes that can't come true anyway. I do feel like that carries a clearer tone than "I'm an optimist, but also a realist".

#silver the hedgehog #sonic forces #sonic 06 #sonic rivals #long post #Silver and all the various ways his actions and thoughts and emotions go and show duality‚ my beloved

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tiredassmage · 12 days

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This isn't really a question, just something to give you an excuse to talk about Leo and Heleda. I miss them.

Literally, anything you want.

klfnadlsk;f I guess I could've used this last night, but I'll finally use it as a jumping-off point. I've had this one sitting for a while because aforementioned business with life and the other interests taking over most of the free brain territory, but since the man, the myth, the goblin is back, let's go!

Heleda's a bit of a quicker one, unfortunately, because she hasn't quite stuck. Which is kind of an ironic theme for me personally; Sith Warrior is still one of my favorite of the class stories, but I think Savosta's the only Warrior I've made that's really stuck with me, and even him I don't talk nearly enough about, though he's also been a bit more on my mind intermittently lately.

I think some of the concepts I intended to put in her were cool. She was my second intention to create more of a "beast master" in the Warrior's role, possibly partially because I do like how it'd theoretically fit with the Tatooine arc in the Warrior's story, and it'd create interesting parallels for someone (me) who likes the hound on a leash motifs you can go with given the Warrior's later role as the Emperor's Wrath.

Since I know this'll be a ramble, I'll put a cut here just to get that out of the way.

So, I don't remember if I ever brought it the blog, but one of Heleda's backstory points was a younger brother that didn't end up being Force-sensitive, but did end up serving in the Reclamation Service, and in that way sought to serve the Sith and still bring honor to his family. Heleda was quite proud of him for this and I imagined they were still fairly close. Heleda always intended to keep a respectfully distant enough, but still protective eye on him. One of her unspoken private goals of rising to what station she may was to be able to guard her brother and make sure he and others like him still had a place in Imperial society.

She's also of the small class of characters I'm slightly mad at (lighthearted and kinda affectionate) for being very cool to me conceptually, but not occupying a lot of my brain, but also having some of the coolest lightsaber assignments out of my characters.

I still haven't really reused this particular saber or color crystal for anyone else because it's still 'Heleda's' trademark in my mind. A neutral color, a gray-toned crystal that was meant to represent her valuing of honor - honoring the pacts made, the services rendered, the power inherent in nature, in the Force, and in each of them - over a dogmatic loyalty to a code. Heleda's probably not someone who would ever leave the Sith for the Jedi, nor would she probably consider leaving for some order in between - short of something born out of necessity like the Eternal Alliance of the KOTXX era, but her and her brother's studies of history and their family's interest in the cultures of the galaxy developed a sense in her that bootcrushing domination was not absolute power in the way many Sith tended to present it.

That all never meant Heleda was any less willing to settle matters with her martial skills, but she needed a better reason to cut a good officer down than 'I am annoyed.' In the long-run, Baras's "ideal" apprentice was probably someone that was somewhere between brute enforcer and cunning enough to be semi-mindful of tactics, but, ideally, wouldn't have been someone that gets ahead of him at his game as the Warrior might. In Heleda's particular case, I don't think she'd anticipate the exact way Baras eventually betrays her and tries to eliminate her, but hearing fairly early on that Baras was likely to only use her as far as she was useful to him was not heretical or unforeseeable - nor did she particularly plan to overtake him in that exact moment. For now, she has her duty and, Force-willing, she'd be able to serve the Empire in the way it needed, when that time would come. But overworrying about it in paranoia would not be productive to her, either. I think of her as a pragmatist.

So, that all said... I have a... fair idea of her in my head, but there's... something kinda missing from the formula that I haven't quite put my finger on. I haven't found quite something to hook me into her motivations and drive me up a wall for them. Further exploration could probably do it, could probably more clearly define her 'why' in a way that'd make it more enjoyable for me, but for now I don't know if I have particular plans to return to her and dig any further with it because I don't think I ever figured out where I wanted her to fit story-wise. She's also... probably generally suffering from my seeming preference for my tech class characters, lol. I think the repeated tracks in how Jedi and Sith characters tend to run sort of wears me out of them a little faster - ground that's already well-paved and well-traveled and all that, which might sound ironic because Star Wars is maybe about the laser sword people for... maybe most Star Wars fans, but... I digress, I think. xD

So! Anyway! Leo! Speaking of my tech classes, lol! Leo, Leo, Leo... I do love Leo... Now, I know there's some common giggles for the smuggler's methodology being kinda fucking around and finding out without finding a single goddamn thing out, but I think... I do really enjoy Leo because he's not... exactly in all of the smuggling business by choice. Leo is both... terribly devoid of confidence in his life, and the kind of character that tends to at least act like things are... alright, at least. He's not at all a plans man. He's not good at plans. Sometimes he'd feel as if he's barely got the week figured out, let alone five or ten years out from now.

And I think maybe especially with given how this year has panned out so far for me, there's maybe something a little comforting in that as well. Like I do love to say he's my disaster, don't get me wrong. It's a lot of his charm to me that I can't emphasize enough that he's... wildly imperfect. And he struggles a lot.

But Leo's like 27 at the beginning of the class stories, if I remember correctly, and life hasn't worked out... really at all how he may have ever planned - not that he was ever a plans man to begin with, again. And... there's something comforting in the potential narrative that it still works out for him in the end, anyway. Because I'm... changing a lot right now, to be brief, lol. I'm looking at changing my entire focus path in life and finally facing the prospect of moving away, of eventually moving out of a job and a job field I've been at for almost five years. Not to be too deep on main, but that can be pretty terrifying sometimes.

And I'm not sure Leo even knows how afraid he is. Of... a lot of things, frankly. In the same briefly aforementioned from an answer or two ago conversation with a friend on Discord, I poked a little at how Leo's... actually kind of afraid of how he got into smuggling in the first place. It wasn't a good deal for him. He fucked around and found out, in the simplest terms. Leo's likely piloting smuggling operations now because he owes the Black Sun. Big. For not knowing how to keep his mouth shut, essentially, on Coruscant. When Leo was first trying to find his feet after Dash helped him defect after Begeren, he picked up sort of whatever odd jobs he could once he sort of found his feet again just so he had any kind of income that might justify him living in Dash's apartment. And that... sorta kinda accidentally-but-not led Leo into picking a few fights sometimes with thugs and gangs in the Lower Levels because Leo, at least, knew which end of a blaster was the barrel a plasma bolt came out of after surviving a couple years of service in the Imperial Army. And the kind of people he tended to be doing odd jobs for were people who didn't have a lot - a lot like himself. People who didn't always know where their next credits were going to come from. People that got caught in the crossfire of a rock and a hard place between a Republic that was maybe a bit too busy to solve their problems without a lot of red tape, and criminal groups like the Black Sun and the Justicars that robbed what little they had left and would call it "security."

The problem is that Leo proved pretty good at getting into shit he didn't belong in and getting into places he didn't belong in - and... arguably, that saved his life. Because rather than kill him for the claimed "losses" and "defamation," he was "offered" the job of smuggling for them. Arm twisted behind his back, really, lest he either get himself killed, or have to fess up to Dash he'd gotten himself in bigger trouble than he could handle himself, or both, or worse. The other problem for Leo is that Dash was rightfully getting called a hero for what happened on Begeren. Dash's got his whole life ahead of him. Leo, on the other hand, has always been particularly skilled at shooting fairly decent chances in both toes like a bad line dance in a backwater cantina.

Which is why Leo is still historically horrendously bad at asking for help. And he'll try every which way to deflect the fact that he probably should - except he's... kinda shit at actually deflecting because it's not that he's exactly a liar, or a decent one, at any rate - not to someone that actually matters to him. Not someone like Dash, whose only ever been good to him, even when Leo can't see the reason why he'd do such a damned thing.

Leo's afraid of his past catching up to him, of the kind of... boogeymanification he's made of word getting back to his father that he's still alive and that he fled to Republic space instead of dying as would've been convenient for a family disgrace like himself. And I'm not sure he's ever been really straight enough with anyone about just how deep he is in how he started smuggling to realize he's scared of that getting him killed sometimes, too.

He's kinda... still gotta figure out that he can get himself out of that kind of cycle. That it is okay, ultimately - that he doesn't need to be so hard on himself. That he both needs to realize he is holding himself to the same standards that hurt him and that he loathes having been set for him by how he grew up, and that he doesn't owe anything to those standards either way. Part of that journey is letting himself love Dash and be true to that, to actually pursue that. But I think he's got a lot left to unpack yet and I think... probably by the end of it, he'll feel he owes an apology to people like Dash and Liv for keeping 'em waiting so long on him to figure it out, and how atrociously stubborn he could be about not getting helped along the way there.

But he's capable of getting there. There's a happy ending in there somewhere for him. And I'm glad to be able to see the journey there.

#answered #dot talk #swtor ocs #ch: heleda #sith warrior #ch: leo ashold #swtor smuggler

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augment-techs · 2 years

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Random song lyrics (except not really because I’ve been listening to this song nonstop for three days):

I want the full effects, I wanna hit it hard

I wanna dance in the middle of a gay bar

Ooh oh oh, that's what I want

There's nothing wrong with what I want

Yeah, yeah

“What I want” by Muna

So, it was decided and necessary and important for Jason to understand: he owed Skull a thank you and one hell of an apology. The looks he'd been getting from Billy ever since he heard his friend out on why, exactly, he'd punched Skull when the boy had gotten him alone during a school event and told him to take his mother to get checked out; those looks were like the Grim Reaper pointing a finger at him.

* A simple introduction after the punk bumping into the Scott matriarch shouldn't have been cause for concern. Shouldn't have made Skull hesitate after shaking her hand, eyeing her from a distance for the rest of the night in the gymnasium while everyone else had punch and little side dishes, and made him give Mr. Scott a wide berth. It shouldn't have made him wait until Bulk was occupied snapping at Brady about his latest collected Ranger footage for Skull to ask Jason if he could talk to him in the hallway. "Look, I...I know this is gonna sound weird, what with your dad already being sick and everything, but, um," Skull fiddled with his fingers and the hem of his jacket, not meeting Jason's eye and already getting on his nerves--which were already heightened and frayed from dealing with his dad all evening, by the way, "When was the last time your mom saw a doctor, for, like, herself?" "I don't see how that's any of you business." "It's...it's not," Skull nodded, hair on the back of his neck raised at how Jason's fists were clenched at his sides and--though he wouldn't know--using his Red voice in warning, "But, I really think she should see one." "Are you a doctor?" "N-no, but--" "Are you aware that my dad has gone to see doctors at least once a week for five months? Don't you think that if anything were wrong with her, my mom would ask for herself?" Months and months of Jason's own stress and issues and frailty were building up from their inert place, showing in his eyes and voice, and the way he had backed Skull into a corner, out of sight of everyone--even the security cameras the schools had up for insurance reasons. "Not if she doesn't know anything is wrong." That little sentence, that stature, set of his shoulders: they all spoke the truth that Skull didn't mean harm, didn't want to upset Jason, was only trying to help. But Jason was angry, that little broken boy inside of him that his karate sensei had tried to sooth and put to bed rising from his slumber at the unfairness of even the idea of both of his parents being sick. Maybe Skull had expected it, and that's why he made sure they were alone when Jason lashed out--one hit, and then another, right into Skull's left side of the face, under the eye and above the teeth, where the bone made a sickening crack. Skull didn't make a sound, back against the wall and hand coming up to cover, or cup, the bloody mass and mess of his face as Jason seemed to pull back to lay one more hit. But, his Power Coin, Red in the back of his mind, reminded him about personal responsibility, and this was not who he was anymore. The tide of rage pulled back, just enough, but Jason still gave a warning as he turned and walked away, "Stay the hell away from me and my family, Skull. I won't have you making things worse over a sick joke." * There was blood in the exact corner next to the lockers Jason had left Skull present the next day. The blood that had dribbled off of his face having been left to stain the simple cement flooring that had an orange safety cone placed next to it for the cleaning crew to find. Bulk looked crabby and irritated all day, no Skull in sight, and Billy had actually wondered aloud where the other punk could have been when he'd managed to make it to a school event the night before, act responsibly without his mother or brother in attendance, and yet still didn't show up the next day. Then Kim had noticed Jason's knuckles. And Tommy noticed the way Jason wouldn't look anyone in the eye. * It was actually rather novel to see Billy angry, let alone angry enough at Jason to yell at the taller teen, but maybe it was the Blue in him that made it easy to snap at a Red going way over the line. "...Did you even bother to ask? Did you ask him why he thought that?" "I don't need to encourage his being an asshole--" "Eugene is not--" Billy almost snarled, pitching up on his tiptoes to meet Jason eye to eye in righteous indignation--before he took a deep breath, finger pointed still accusingly right in the Red Ranger's face as he balked back on the heels of his feet before continuing at a more controlled volume, but with no less frost, "Okay, let's look at this logically. Skull can be an insufferable prankster, he can be rude, abrasive, infuriating; but tell me when he's ever been needlessly cruel for the sake of being needlessly cruel?" Jason ground his teeth and crossed his arms, "Maybe Bulk put him up to it." "Which is why you were lead out into the hallway where nobody would see you punching him?" Kim spoke up, dry as a bone, understanding, but perhaps just as angry as Billy was. Zack and Trini hadn't looked this uncomfortable since Matt stopped hanging out with them in any meaningful capacity, but they both clearly agreed with the Pink Ranger. Tommy had elected to stay neutral, partly so Jason didn't feel like they were all ganging up on him, and partially because he didn't know enough about either of the punk duo to give commentary on whether it was plausible this was a joke or a misunderstanding. Jason's nostrils were flaring, arms still crossed and body tight in a kind of self hug as the words hit, but didn't seem to be sinking in. "Okay, okay, let's think about this without putting emotions and past behavior at the forefront," Trini reasoned, ever the voice of calm humanity, "Was this the first time Skull has ever met your mom?" Jason directed his eyes over their heads, looking into the middle distance, and scratched nape of his neck, "I mean, not technically." "Go on." Jason counted off on his fingers, "His brother brought him to a karate class once instead of his mother and my mom called him a really responsible young man," Billy looked utterly unimpressed at that image, face contorting much like any time Kim tried to fake a French accent, but allowed Jason to continue, "Skull was at least polite enough to give her a smile, but he never did show back up to the class." "Was he no good at it?" Zack asked, genuinely curious as he had also kinda seen Skull around when he was such a tiny, skinny little thing. "One of the other students leaned into a kick too hard and broke his arm," Billy answered, crossing his own arms with his head drooping to the side, completely ignoring Kim's curiosity at his knowing exactly when this all happened, "Never did say the kid's name, though." The Red Ranger curled his pointer finger, twitchy and telling, and both Trini and Zack caught the way his eyes twitched and looked decidedly anywhere except Billy's face. Both Black and Yellow Ranger spoke at the exact same time, "...Really?" with feeling, "Come on, man." Jason ducked his head as both Billy and Kim zeroed in with mirror expressions of 'are you fucking serious right now' just burning off of them. "I said I was sorry, and I didn't know I'd broken the arm," he tried to defend, a little ball of real guilt making its way home in his belly, as he lifted another finger, straightening out his pointer to be quick about this, "Anyway, he met my mom again at a parent/teacher conference when we were the only ones left waiting and his mom was..." How to describe the Skullovitch matriarch a year after her husband had bailed on the marriage... "A bitch." Tommy, Trini, Kim, Zack, and Jason all flinched bodily at the curse dropping easily out of Billy's mouth, the genius himself looking unperturbed at their stares as he crossed his arms and his nose wrinkled at a memory. ".....Yeah, that," Jason finished, his third finger twitchy as it rose up, "And then this last time when she shook his hand and then he pulled this crap about her seeing a doctor." "...She shook his hand?" "Yes, I just said that, Billy," Jason sighed, rolling his eyes and turning back, only to find Billy looking...curiously serious. Still angry at Jason, but he had that little head tilt and unfocused glaze as he looked into nothing. "Did he hold on and look at her nails for an awkwardly long time?" "I--...Yes?" "...She should see a doctor." * There it was, plain as day on the X-Ray and computer 3D visual once the three doctors that had seen to Christine Scott pointed it out with exhaustion and relief bundled up in their frames: a heart arrhythmia that without a diagnosis and treatment would have, doubtless and absolutely, lead to Jason's mom dying. Possibly before even Sam Scott, if they way the prescribed quite a few pills, relaxation techniques, and a surgery were anything to go by. His dad had sneered, the first time Jason brought up getting his mom a physical. He'd said Jason was being paranoid, acting like a child, but then Jason had sited Billy's concerns, how Billy was a genius that worked with some of the finest minds in the private sector, how if he said something should be done, he was usually right. Now that Sam had shut up so he could hold his wife's hand as she took this all in, at once grateful and scared and hopeful, Jason was left coming down from the shock and terror of the idea that he might have lost both of his parents in as short a time as the span of two years. (Less, one doctor had said, if she was as anxious as constantly as everyone else in Angel Grove; stress really was no joke on a heart like this, and that was without the added fact that she worried over her husband being sick every single day.) Once Jason came all the way down, he ended up looking from his mom to his dad, to his lap. Where he hands were perched on his knees, scabbed knuckles facing up. 'Shit motherfucker fuck shit,' echoed most insidiously through Jason's brain and, unknowingly, through his link with the Tyrannosaurus Power Coin, where Red sat in the Morphin Grid, completely unimpressed with its wielder. * Bulk wanting to tear his head off did not come as a surprise. The fact that he probably could have and would have was. Jason was pretty sure he lost about sixty seconds of time between telling Bulk that he was the reason Skull had missed school for three days (because he had to go to the hospital himself for the broken cheekbone that had to be set, and trapped blood under the skin that had to be drained; had to wear a huge patch of gaze over the sutures and sunglasses over his eyes because he looked like the walking dead with the burst blood vessels in his eye), and coming back to feeling like his head was going to fall off. Jason hanging by his throat as Bulk lifted him off the ground to slam him into a brick wall--again--took a fuzzy, dim backseat to the ringing in his ears from Bulk having punched him in the gut, clapped his hands over his ears to blow them out, and the taste of blood from Jason biting his tongue. Thankfully, Billy had insisted on coming along and provided the voice of reason that Jason was just protecting his mom, much like Bulk protected Skull. (And thank the Grid for that, because while Jason was stronger than a rhino in his Ranger form, he was just a human in his own flesh. He might not think of Bulk from day to day, a little part of his childhood holding on and reminding him that he was mostly all talk and a bit of a joke--but Bulk was just as strong as Jason with weights and stamina. It was really stupid to underestimate him.) But Billy had the Midas Touch, the silver tongue, and Bulk might not like his superiority very much, but he still respected him (in that nebulous way that everyone respected Billy and the rest of their group despite the chafing, salty grain of jealousy that sometimes clung to the respect; the envy for that closeness and shine that nobody else had) enough to clench the hand around Jason's throat once, before letting go and stepping back. Jason landed on his feet, but his head was still buzzing and the blood was still flowing from his tongue and made him nauseous; brought him to collapse down to his knees where he clutched at the bruising that would look like paint later. He coughed and coughed and spat blood for a good three minutes while Billy remained a steady buffer between the retched Red and the still very pissed off colossus who'd crossed his arms to wait. So, Jason didn't die, at least. He still had to go through the whole song and dance he'd prepped for Skull; how the punk was right, his mother wasn't quite as sick as his father, but she would have died if she went unchecked. Jason was out of line and would submit to whatever needed to be done to make up for the completely unnecessary violence inflicted on someone that had never been that cruel. Bulk had looked...very serious. Very contemplative. Had that look that Tommy or Billy sometimes got when they were faced with an obstacle in a monster or a dimension paradigm. So his willingness to give Jason a ride to Skull's work was such a different turn of events that Jason was half sure he was actually going to be taken into the woods to be buried in a shoebox after Bulk cut him into tiny pieces. He'd merely said, "Go home, Billy. Jason, get in the truck and I'll take you to talk to Skull," and hadn't bothered looking at either of them to follow his orders as he made way towards the vehicle he'd been heading for before being informed of the events as they were. And Jason did follow, stepping right into the cab as Bulk unlocked the door, and Billy did head for home after leaving a text for Jason to call if anything went wrong (so trust, but verify). Of course the catch was Bulk being there to supervise, five feet behind Jason as the shorter boy paused outside the establishment he had been completely unaware existed, let alone that Skull worked there. The building could have been mistaken as a night club probably dealing in the shadiest kind of shit, but the people that came in and out as Jason was buzzed in and Bulk followed after all looked reasonably well off, not high or drunk, and one in three were holding a big gulp's worth of coffee. The neon of 'The Alternative Cheesecake' twinkling was the last thing Jason reason saw on the outside before he passed through the doors into a very clean looking greeting point; the sounds of something like disco mixed with classical playing from the speakers overhead. "Hey, Bulk," Hailey from school, from Jason's art class, waved lazily from behind the desk, side-eyeing Jason's bruises and the blood clinging the corners of his mouth like bad lipstick, "You're not scheduled to work today." 'Bulk has a job?' Was a wildly inappropriate a thought, so Jason decidedly did not move his face as the lesbian femme punk handed Jason a visitor's pass, and also gave him a threatening, frost tipped glare when Bulk explained the situation. "Want me to kill him for you?" Oh, and that was unpleasant. "No, no," Bulk waved, poking Jason until he put the pass around his neck on the lanyard and starting walking towards a pair of doors at the end of the tiled hall, weird little clouds of cold air puffing out every few seconds, "I already almost knocked him out. He's here to apologize." * Scar tissue highlighted with phosphorescent paint; skin stretched over too many bones with hollows in them; too high heels carrying around too long legs as if it was a carnival piece in a Renaissance fair. Mohawks long and tall enough that they could have formed another head; more piercings than it seemed any living person should be able to have; tattoos everywhere except along fingers or lips. Swimsuits, pantsuits, pencil skirts, lingerie. So much jewelry that the sounds of metal on metal were almost like ocean waves. A vast expanse of dark corners that seemed to go on forever, platforms and photographers and music blasting different forms on different sets; Jason could easily imagine it was like a big party in a gay bar, but the dancers weren't allowed to move that much. Some of the people had bruises, bitemarks, more makeup than an entire coven of goths. Jason wasn't the least bit surprised he ended up following behind Bulk like...well, like he was a child again. So shy underneath the stern and responsibilities. The punk seemed a lot more understanding than he should have been, even paused here and there so Jason could reorient himself in the scenery of bright followed by dark, and some of the models trying to reach the length of themselves outside small windows, but smoke still coming in to swish and blend with the so cold air. "...What exactly do you do here?" "Model for personal request panels and calendars. Sometimes for nudes and character studies for art students," Bulk hummed, the both of them skittering around a much larger cluster of models--all in white, but with facial scars and too black hair. They almost bumped into a giant scarecrow of a man, dressed like a Harlequin, but bright yellow almost everywhere, with terrifying piercings in his face and ears. He smiled and waved them off as Jason queried, "I...you get paid well here?" "Four-fifty an hour, depending on the request." "Hundred?!" "You think that's inflated? When the pure nude sets pay a thousand for a single hour, and doubles after three?" The hand Jason grabbed, Bulk's big right hand that had choked him, didn't resist as Jason held on so he didn't get lost in a crowd on break drinking gallons of coffee, latte, tea with honey; or vaped while nibbling on health food. "You...do nudes here?" "No," the snort wasn't with disdain, but rather with real affection, "We're underage. We're limited to things that require covering our dicks." The karate blackbelt strained his hearing to take in Bulk's words as they moved into dim light again, the temperature dropping even more as the sounds of Glenn Gold crooned from the dark. "We're just special requests. I mostly do modeling for the art students so they can study forms other than idiot stick figures that starve themselves for perfection. Skull on the other hand--oh, here we are." Bulk slowed the both of them down as they came to the second cranny from the back, a set decorated like a bar that had been vacated in the wake of a natural disaster; overturned wooden crates, broken bottles, flyleaves, detritus, iris and roses either dried or hanging fresh. The centerpiece being Skull. Shaved legs, black pantyhose, black stilettos, perfect posture leaning against the bar. Garters, a corset, an orange flame ribbon trailing down his neck and along his neck to tie into that corset perfectly. He was sipping what looked like milk from a crystal glass, bruises on full display, but with makeup perfect mirroring on the other side so he gave off the look of having ironic tattoos for the camera. He was wearing lace panties and-- Bulk smacked the back of his head Jason kept running through his apology in his head as Skull finally noticed them, not even blinking at Bulk's half-amused look, but a little nervous as he asked for his break and made his way almost like a shy dog over to Jason. "Is everything okay?"

#boom! comics power rangers #mmpr #ggpr #Mighty Morphin Comics #go go power rangers comc #jason lee scott #eugene skull skullovitch #farkas bulk bulkmeier #billy cranston #prompt fill #fix-it au #hurt and comfort and angst and hilarity #Jason is dumb but has his reasons

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kiridarling · 3 years

Text

𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓.

request | Can I have royalty au (soon to be king bakugou) (and soon to be queen reader) , katsuki and reader are supposed to be getting married (not to eachother) but they end up sneaking around and doing IT with eachother so top!kats , exhibition , begging , dumbification and spanking THANK YOU💞💞

this lovely request was submitted for the kissing booth event (the rest of the drabbles come out soon, ahem :)) so, if this was your request, um...hAHA whoops.

katsuki bakugou | f!reader, royalty!au, infidelity, nondescript!fiancés, angst (gasp), fingering, exhibitionism, dumbification + more! minors dni!

— 3.7k words

“C'mon, princess...can I make you feel good once last time?

You're getting married.

No more ignorance is bliss, no more I didn't know any better—this is when you put all your childish antics to the side and fucking woman up, now in charge of the safety of your kingdom and its inhabitants and whatnot. So yes, you must snuff all your adolescent tendencies, and that includes sleeping with the Crowned Prince of the neighboring kingdom behind your fiancé's backs.

But, boys are stubborn. And stupid.

Ding ding ding!

"Excuse me, Everyone!" Your fiancé announces to the crowd in your dining room as he stumbles to his feet, spoon clinking against his glass. He nearly trips, but no one sees except yourself. "I would like to make a toast."

You frown. This wasn't a part of the rehearsal dinner.

"First of all, I would like to thank you all for being able to be with us tonight," he says, shoving the glass higher in the air. As red wine splashes over the rim, you think to remind him that isn't a toast, it's the beginning of a speech, but your comments have rarely deterred the man in the past. "As you’re all aware, this marriage is vital. Not only for our kingdom, but for the neighboring kingdom as well."

Your fiancé regards the Bakugou’s with a lift of his chalice. In the coming weeks, two arranged marriages will melt the four most influential kingdoms into two, and your fiancé and his family had the genius to throw a massive Gala to celebrate it. You wouldn’t be surprised if they got off to the idea of stretching themselves so thin their hair falls out at age thirty; they won’t even allow you to choose the type of dress for your wedding.

"I would also like to thank my lovely, lovely wife, for just being so... lovely.” Your fiancé chuckles, accompanied by an uncomfortable massage to your shoulder. The guests find amusement in how whipped he is as he gazes your way expectantly, conceivably wishing to see you swoon at the compliment. All you give him is a blank face. His elation falters.

"You know, when I first met this woman, I knew she was going to be the love of my life," your fiancé shakes your glare off. You purposely block out the rest of his story in favor of folding and unfolding your napkin again, puffing under your breath at the cheesy comment.

"Sap," you grunt to yourself, obviously. You don't expect anyone to hear, but there's a snort to your right. Your eyes lift from your lap—and straight into Katsuki's smug blood red ones. He winks at you from across the table and your eyes roll at that, though there's a small smile playing on your face that's impossible to hide.

"Isn't that right [Y/N]!...[Y/N]?"

You blink yourself back to life, eyes reluctantly leaving Katuski's hypnotic ones for the pair that make you nauseous, "Oh—u-um, yep!"

The place bursts in laughter and there's even a little smile dancing on Katsuki's face. He catches you staring so your eyes divert to your lap, but his remain a physical force against you for the rest of the night.

*selene — the greek goddess of the moon

The balcony is much nicer than the ballroom.

For one, it's the farthest place you could have gone from the commotion, all the way on the opposite side of the castle. It's a solid five-minute walk when you aren't in heels and a heavy petticoat, but it provides a lovely view of your front yard, subjecting you to watch the early-sleepers leave in their carriages to call it a night. Meanwhile, *Selene watches you from her telescope the moon with a sigh and a sad smile, because she's the only one who knows how completely and utterly alone you will be.

You glare at her—the goddess doesn't waver.

Bitch.

It's no secret that Gala’s like these get overwhelming—especially when you're the center of attention. You see Lord Shinsou (Earl) stuff the eager Lord Kaminari (Baron) into his silver-plated carriage before looking around to ensure no one saw, and blanche upon seeing your figure stood on the balcony. You salute so he knows his secret is safe with you, and relief washes over his face before he too hops into the carriage. What a scandal, you giggle.

Plenty of couples resign home after that; it makes you uneasy. You're unsure as to why, but you have the ever-increasing urge to nip at your fingernails until you don't have them anymore, and jamming the sharpest point of your heel into the concrete seems like the only proper way to release enough kinetic energy before you explode.

"He loves me."

He does, embarrassingly so—so what's the issue?

There isn't an issue; there shouldn't be. He reminds you how pretty you are and you compliment his influence. Neither of you are marrying down. You look good together. The kingdom's future power couple if you will, where you two supposedly mold the great future in your peculiarly young hands. There isn't an issue. You're the one for him, and he's the one for you.

The balcony door whines open. You don't turn around, praying whoever it is will see that it's occupied and turn the other cheek. Yet, the stomp of whoever's boots only grow louder until you’re adjacent to a shadow of a being, his chin lifted towards the stars. You catch a glimpse of blond hair, though dyed a pale white by the silver moon, and you two stand in a strangely comfortable silence, watching carriages roll out of your driveway.

The silence doesn’t last for long, though. It never does.

"D’ya always go disappearing like that?"

You frown. "What?"

"I don't fuckin' know," Katsuki grumbles—he has yet to look at you. Seems like Selene captures more than one person's attention tonight. "Blinked and you were gone."

Your frown only deepens, and you return your attention to the courtyard. "I didn't know you were paying attention."

The ash-blond presses his forearms against the railing for support. "I wasn't. He was."

Oh.

"Said he wants you to come back, so," Katsuki clicks his tongue, carmine red eyes finally flicking your way through the darkness. You don’t dare look at him. “You run off often, or what?"

"Tell him I'll come back in a second," you sigh, balancing your face in your hand. Katsuki says nothing, but he doesn't leave, and you hate that you don't mind.

Until he points towards a couple crossing the lawn and says, "Oi, that's the Duke from my fiancé's kingdom. Fucker tried to poison my dad for the throne—straightened him out real quick.”

"Why are you talking to me?" You snap like a cornered animal. Katsuki lifts an eyebrow.

"What? I can't have a goddamn conversation?"

"I—" your chest rises and falls with a reason to why he can't, but you can only come up with one—and you don't want to think about it.

"Listen. I don't like these things either, alright?" He huffs defensively, so defensively that you have to take a step back. "If I have the opportunity to get some fresh air, I'm gonna fuckin' take it."

You shrug, supposing it makes you one and the same. The wind blows, not harsh, but harsh enough to ruffle your gown, and make the gold jewelry decorating Katsuki's tunic jingle.

“So. I guess this is it, ain’t it?”

You sigh, “Katsuki, you know we—“

"Yeah yeah, that's all you fuckin' say," he growls bitterly, and you blink in a poor attempt to find where the animosity came from. His face twists in an ugly way as he sits his hands on his hips, nose scrunched to mockingly pitch his voice that doesn't sound like yours at all. "We can't, we shouldn't—"

"Because we shouldn't!" You nearly shout, and Katsuki jumps from how quickly you raise your voice. "Because—because if we get caught, we're fucked. And I can't go to sleep terrified that I'll wake up to an exposé tomorrow morning and get beheaded by the afternoon. So...please. Just stop."

Katsuki clicks his tongue.

"You don't love that asshole."

Your throat feels tight—much too tight to be comfortable, and your chest rises and falls with disbelief as you search for the words before you can talk again, eyes never dropping from the stars. You've had this conversation, fuck, you have it too often; often enough to know that he would say those exact words, and enough to know precisely what you'll say in response.

"I love him, Katsuki."

"No, no you fuckin' don't," the ash-blond chucks a laugh and it's nothing short of acrid, his words eating away at your skin more than you'd like them to. You sigh, resting your forearms on the railing too.

"I'm not having this conversation with you."

"Always gotta be so goddamn emotionally unavailable, huh?" He growls, glare set on the mountains presented in front of you. You feel his suit jacket hit your freezing shoulders, unaware of the cool temperatures until you feel the cloth brush against goosebumps. It’s your turn to laugh bitterly.

“Careful. People might think we’re getting married to each other.”

“One day you’ll let me fuckin’ live,” he grunts, and your eyes meet for the first time. His usual red is dyed a deep purple by the moonlight, their usual hardness traded for something much softer. “Can’t even give you a jacket when you’re shivering like a goddamn leaf in the wind.”

You give him a look of utter exhaustion because you’re tired—tired of all this running around and hiding, the secrecy. It eats at your insides like a caterpillar does a leaf, knowing that you go to sleep every night to a man who’ll barely touch you, but at the same time, feeling guilty that you don’t need nor want him to.

“Why are you here?”

Katsuki clicks his tongue. His warm body settles behind yours, close enough to feel the warmth but not close enough to feel him. “You looked lonely.”

“I thought my fiancé told you to get me?” You ask, raising a suspicious eyebrow. Katsuki rolls his eyes, his arms settling on both sides of yours.

“He did. But I didn’t refuse the damn request either.”

“You saw my loneliness all the way from the ballroom. What an eyesight,” you scoff. Katsuki’s eyes narrow, but it’s clear he’s fighting a grin because you’re a little shit who loves giving him a hard time. The ash-blond’s chest rises and falls, and he bites the inside of his cheek.

“You know what I mean.”

You snort, tilting your head to the right. You suppose you do.

“And I’m marrying a bitch,” he adds to his list of grievances, his hands finding yours to gently play with your fingers. You nod in agreement. A bitch she is.

“And...I’m really going to fuckin’ miss you.”

It might as well pass for nothing but a breath, eyes trained on your held hands. His chest suspends like he has more to say, but his teeth tear at the inside of his cheek before he can. “I—fuck, I get it, okay? I’m a selfish asshole—“

“This doesn’t have to do wit—“

“And I really, really need to get my fuckin’ priorities straight. I mean, they are, just not in the way they should be.”

“Hey,” you chastise, shaking his hands for his attention. “You can’t control who you love, okay?"

Katsuki grumbles at that but you refuse, turning around to look him in the eyes.

"And neither can I.”

You let go of his hands in favor of pulling him down via his cheeks and giving him a big fat kiss on the lips. It’s peckish and brief, but it’s sweet and gets your point across. It's comfortable.

“The hell was that for?” Katsuki asks once you pull away. Though you see him struggle to hide a grin, eyes squinting more than they should.

“Easy,” you say, stepping forwards (as if there’s any space for that), “You looked lonely.”

Katsuki snorts, dropping his head, “Bastard.”

“And I’m being married off to an asshole,” you lament, pulling his face so close to the point you’re sure the strain on his back has got to be anything but sexy. He accommodates anyways—Katsuki always has; and night seems to suspend along with his baited breath as he waits for the next line, eyes shining with a painful hope you’re about to confirm.

“And I’m really, really going to miss you,” you say, shaking your head at how utterly true that statement is. Fuck.

The vulnerability slowly fades from his eyes at that, and Katsuki hums, clammy hands finding their rightful place around your hips.

“You shouldn’t call him an asshole, you know,” he says, face inching so close you can smell the champagne on his breath. “He means well.”

“I didn’t know you cared,” you quip back, raising an eyebrow. Katsuki shrugs, and you don’t realize he’s backing you up until your back kisses the cool railing.

“Well. I can’t help but feel a little bad,” he says cheekily as he inches closer, “‘Cause I make you feel so good, don’t I, Princess? Last time I checked, better than he ever could.”

You scoff at his audacity though it’s all good-natured, eyes preferring the moon over his heated gaze as he turns you around to face the courtyard.

“Ah, ah,” he tuts, redirecting your attention using a finger on your jaw, “Eyes on me, Princess. You look really fuckin’ pretty under the stars, y’know.”

You snort at the compliment, rolling your eyes.

“‘M serious. A fuckin’ goddess,” he growls, leaving wet kisses up the column of your neck. Your breath hitches as he reaches your sweet spot and sucks, and you’re swatting him away before he can leave a mark.

“I sai—“

“One last time, Princess,” he bargains lowly as his hot hands slide their way from your waist to your breasts, taking their sweet time. Katsuki hooks his chin on your shoulder. “Lemme—Can I make you feel good one last time?”

You’re nodding with a whimper before you can berate yourself for being so fucking easy, the thought of not being able to indulge yourself with this, with him, any longer tosses any and all resistance out the window.

“Good,” Katsuki hums, tweaking your nipples through the bodice. “‘M gonna pay you back for being so good to me, yeah? For puttin' up with all my shit."

You scoff, mouth dropping to tell him you weren't putting up with his shit, but then a warm hand lands on your thigh—somehow, he's found a way under your dress. The hand slides up inner thigh and you feel Katsuki's chest shudder against your back as he finally reaches where you need him most.

"K-Kats—"

"Shhh, you don't want them to hear us, do you?" He grunts, pulling your panties to the side. You shiver from the change in temperature, watching another Duke and Duchess of half-drunkenly stumble into their carriages for the night, before there's a crack of a whip and hooves beat towards the exit. It's only a reminder of how painfully exposed you two are—one glance towards the balcony and any onlooker would know exactly what's happening. You hate it.

You hate that you don't.

"Atta girl," Katsuki purrs, groaning as he inserts a finger. You shiver, the weight of his being practically trapping you against the railing. "Always so fuckin' tight. I swear that asshole never fucks you right."

Katsuki's never been an impatient man and fills you with a second finger awfully fast, chuckling when you bite into the meat of your palm to hold back a whimper. His hips start to grind against the puff of your dress and he groans as quietly as he can, carelessly shoving down the sleeve of his suit jacket to bite into your shoulder.

You let out a broken moan much too loud for this time of night and it prompts Katsuki's free hand to stuff an equal amount of fingers into your mouth. "Y'know, something tells me you wanna get caught. You want the whole world to know how much you fuckin' hate that bastard, huh?"

You choke as Katsuki slides in a third digit next to the second, the slap of his palm against your pussy becoming nothing but obscene as your slick accentuates the sound. His hips speed up against your ass and that's enough friction to have the ash-blond groaning, along with the spit that drips down his forearm.

"So dirty for me, Princess," his hips stutter when you push back, tongue laving over the bite mark you'll probably have to conceal in the morning. Asshole. "You wanna cum like this, don't you? You're gonna cum all over my fingers in front of the entire royal court. Dumb little girl, can't even keep her mouth shut to keep us from gettin' caught."

You jam your heel into the balcony concrete so hard you positive it cracks before you're coming all over Katsuki's fingers, nearly choking on the ones in your mouth as you release the loudest broken moan you have that night. Katsuki's hips stutter against you and you're positive he's filling his boxers from the airy moan that follows, and his hand goes limp in your mouth before it slides out completely.

Your chests balloon in unison, his body draped over yours, and as you two catch your breath under the moonlight, you can’t help but think how much you’re going to miss this.

"Run away with me."

"I—" he does this. He always does this. He makes you feel on top of the world, acting like everything's fine, and then he pulls this shit on you. You look everywhere but him, nearly scoffing in disbelief. "Katsuki—"

"C'mon, Princess," Katsuki scrambles to flip you by the waist until your back is flush against the railing again and he’s cradling both your hands in his semi-damp ones. There’s a look in his eyes you don’t like, and it makes your chest burn. "Across the sea, people are movin’ over there and I—I know someone there, okay? Someone we could stay with, maybe help us get back on our feet an-and I found a fuckin’ ferry guy to take us across, and I can even pay him a little extra, o-or you, or—"

"Katsuki," you give him a sad smile, squeezing his hands tight. There's hope, too much hope in his eyes and it's fucking blinding. "Running away? I—this is—we have an obligation, we can't jus—"

"It'll be fine," he insists, stepping forwards and squeezing you back twice as hard. You sigh."I—the two kingdoms can merge or whatever the fuck they wanna do and then we'll be—"

"Katsuki."

"I—fuck Princess, I don't beg but goddammit, I'll do whatever you fuckin' want, get on my knees, I ca—"

"You really want to know what I want?"

Katsuki freezes. It's the first time you've ever seen some semblance of emotion in him that isn't anger or lust, with carmine red irises swimming in unshed tears—and fuck, you hate the sight. You want to shoot yourself in the fucking foot for what you’re about to do, but it’s for the best. It always is.

"Love her."

Katsuki looks at you, and his face drops, chest shuddering.

"I can't."

You drop his hands in favor of holding his face, thumbing at the hot tears running as they fall. God, Katsuki’s pretty—too pretty for his own good and he doesn’t even know it. His unsteady hands find themselves massaging your ribs and your foreheads knock together. "You need to try. Love her as much as you love me, yeah?"

"'S fuckin' impossible," Katsuki says with a wet snort, shaking his head with eyebrows raised. You giggle, throat impossibly tight.

"Almost, then? For me."

Katsuki’s red eyes stare at you through the darkness. You have half a mind to look the other way, but you figure you owe him this if nothing else, and as he lovingly absorbs your being under the moonlight for the last time, you really wish you could take your words back.

"I'll...fuck. Fine. I'll try." Katsuki resigns with a shrug, shaking his head. You two sniffle in unison and you suppress the strange urge to pinch him. "'M not gonna try to get over you, though. Sorry, not sorry."

You roll your eyes at that but it's all good-natured, followed by a choke you struggle to hide as his arms coil around your waist, "Then I won't either."

A genuine grin spreads across his face, and it’s borderline giddy—and a stark contrast against the waterworks. "She finally fuckin' admits it."

"Figured it was about time," you give him a wobbly smile before your eyes flicker to his, red blurring from being so close. Selene looks upon both of you with a reminiscent sigh.

"I love you, Katsuki Bakugou."

Katsuki sniffs before he laughs; it's wet, and near bitter, and he pulls you so close your face nearly shoves into his chest. "Fuck. Fuck, you're an asshole, you know that?"

"This is when you say it back," you bargain, squishing his cheeks. Katsuki presses his forehead deeper into yours.

"I love you too, Asshole."

He speaks with a softness you've never heard and it's like a gunshot to the heart, and as his lips inch closer to yours as your hands slide to thumb at his ears. One last kiss wouldn't hurt, would it?

Until there's a whistle and the click of footsteps. You and Katsuki jump a mile apart.

"Oh, [Y/N]! You're still out here in the cold?" Your fiancé asks with a raised eyebrow, but it seems like that's only an afterthought as he turns to Katsuki to say, "Your wife’s found the alcohol."

"Great," the ash-blond groans, understanding the translation—your fiancé is piss drunk in the ballroom.

"I do recommend you take her home. She's making quite a mess of the eclairs. And her face."

Katsuki heads inside without giving you a second glance, and your fiancé gives him a solid pat on the way in before turning to you halfway through the doorway, "Are you coming inside, Darling?"

"In a moment," you say with a smile. Your hand never leaves the railing. "Just getting some fresh air."

"Alrighty, then. I'll be in the bedroom. Waiting~" he winks, and with that, he's spinning on his heel, and you're alone with the moon again.

You watch Katsuki guide his inebriated fiancé into the carriage lovingly, with a smile on his face that isn't quite the one he wears with you but close enough, whispering whatever pleases her at the time with a chaste kiss on the cheek. You feel comfort in knowing that he has someone to love and someone to be loved by. He doesn't look your way—not once.

It's not until they drive away that you realize you still have his suit jacket draped over your shoulders. You don't doubt he did that on purpose, either.

Asshole.

#— 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈 #bakugou smut #mha smut #bnha smut

679 notes · View notes

jonnnysuh · 3 years

Text

How To Write Good // Vernon

A/N: It all started with watching Vernon’s English tutor series and now we’re here omg. This is my first series so please give it some love <3 kind of unedited so lmk if there’s any mistakes! PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

PAIRING: Vernon x You

GENRE: enemies to ???, fluff, student!vernon, tutor!vernon

WARNINGS: swearing

WORD COUNT: 2.7K

SUMMARY: There’s the crisp air of campus, the rush of something new, and a four year degree ahead of you. Your college experience doesn’t go off as smoothly as you’d hoped when you fall asleep on course selection day and are stuck with left over electives. Struggling to get through your creative writing class, you have no idea how you’re going to get through this semester. Fate steps in when the stranger you fought in the library might just be your only chance at passing. This is all just part of the college experience… right?

Orange leaves began surrounding the burnt red brick pathway, and the small green hills of the campus quad. Fall was fast approaching, without much warning. The bright summer sky, now often clouds of gray. The wind brushed past you, causing your hair to fly up. Your legs brushed together quickly as you tried to make your way through campus to get to your Writing in the Arts class. You swore to yourself that you wouldn't sleep through course selection but sometimes sleep was an actual priority to you...and it so happened to be on that day. Not your first choice, but definitely miles ahead of Economic History on the list of leftover electives.

You flipped over your wrist to take a look at the time on your brown pleather watch. 8:12.

Professor Hampton was an older woman, who always kept her sandy brown hair in a slick tight low bun. She had enforced a rule that the doors to the lecture hall would shut 15 minutes past the hour. If you didn’t make it then you’d have to get notes from a classmate. Maybe it’d be fine if you had a friend in the class that was actually punctual, but you had often sat alone in the same spot in the far left corner of the class room. Time was definitely never on your side as you reckoned you only had 3 minutes left until your trip downtown was rendered useless.

You swung the thick metal door open, and began pumping your legs forward, not stopping until you reached the top of the stairs. To your luck, the lecture hall was on the exact end of the hallway. As you took longer strides, your gray backpack bounced behind you. Finally arriving at the end of the long hallway, you came face to face with Professor Hampton, who had a scowl so thick you’d think it was drawn on with a felt tip permanent marker. Without an ounce of forgiveness, that old lady secured the door shut, eyes keen on your betrayed face just a few centimetres from hers.

With the little pride you still had, you contained the urge to bang on the door repeatedly and say "OPEN UP."

If you hadn't had time to get ready that day, or missed your bus, dammit this would've been the boiling point that would've driven you to kick the wall. Your saving grace was that there was a cute guy typing away on his laptop in this hallway and you'd be damned if you were about to look a fool.

It was that moment, you knew that if you were going to pass this class without sacrificing a wink of sleep, you were going to have to make a friend that was good at writing notes. And quick.

—

The next day, you navigated your way through the twists and turns of the library, never having had been there a day in your life. You swear you’d gone in a circle at this point. You promised your best friend, Taylor that you’d secure a spot for your impromptu study date. Although you both had good intentions, you knew it was more than likely going to become a gossip session that involved sometimes looking at class material.

Among the rows and rows of occupied tables, you finally found an empty table, situated next to the window that overlooked the architecture and art buildings. You settled in the chair, slipping your laptop out of your tote bag , and typing mindlessly to look busy while you waited for your friend. With a look around the room, you wondered if people actually studied at the library or if they were just faking it like you.

You were so immersed in your game of Tetris you almost didn’t hear the voice that said , “Hey, I think you’re at the wrong table.”

You paused your game and surveyed the empty wooden table you were sitting at. You blinked slowly at the brown haired man. “I was here first.”

“That might be true but I booked it out for the hour.” The stranger stood with a slight slouch, sporting a backwards snapback and a deep green hoodie. He didn't look like the type to hang out around the library- but then again, neither did you. You swear you had seen him before, but you couldn't place where.

Did I go to high school with him? you thought.

What if he was ugly and had a glow up and that’s why I don’t recognize him?

You took a closer look at him.

Nah. I don’t think he’s ever been ugly in his life.

“Look. My name's right here." He leaned forward, showing you his screen.

[TABLE 9] 3:00pm - Vernon C.

You pushed the phone away, unimpressed. "But you showed up late."

"It was only 6 minutes." Vernon scoffed, as if his tardiness would automatically forfeit him from his table.

"Well, have you ever heard of finder's keepers?"

Vernon nodded, his voice pointed. "But have you ever heard of fair and square?"

You tried your best to conceal the fact that you were somewhat amused by his elementary-level comeback.

"Could you look into your great, big heart to share?” You pouted tauntingly.

"Oh, yeah, because you need a table to play Tetris." He responded sarcastically but it was as if he had crept into your mind. You dreaded the idea of being on your feet trying to find another place for your game.

Your best friend rolled in between you two innocently, confused at the interaction at hand. It was like a kid walking in on their mom and dad fighting for the first time… except dad is a Tetris-hating stranger you just met 3 minutes ago.

“Sorry I’m late, Y/N.” Taylor interjected, trying her best to mend the atmosphere with a grin. Vernon's posture went notably straight as he exhaled, returning a sweet close-lipped smile. You couldn't help but notice the way he looked at your friend- you squinted at the shadow of the difference between this Vernon and the one that basically told you to fuck off only moments prior.

Without a doubt, you knew he was suffering from the "Taylor Effect".

Taylor was your textbook girl next door; equipped with a warm demeanour, and a confidence that was endearing rather than cocky. You could tell that Vernon was trying his best not to stare so obviously, but he was failing miserably.

Because everyone gravitated towards her, many found it odd that she chose to keep you as company. Sometimes you thought she stuck around only because your personalities were so starkly different and would emphasize how great she was, but time and time again she proved she was notable on her own accord.

"Did I interrupt something?"

You and the man shared a look.

Vernon had a feeling that if he let you speak first, that you might ruin his chances with Taylor, and there was absolutely NO shot that he was going to tell her what had just happened. You were quick to take advantage of the situation.

“Vernon just wanted to take the tab-“

He shook his head, "No, no, no I was just leaving."

You raised your eyebrow, smugly.

“I'll see you later,” He bid. Your eyes widened as he went closer to you, clasping his hand around yours and pulling you forwards into an almost embrace. He dapped you up. Vernon dapped you up. What? Did he think you were bros now?

Ya, right. You thought. This is my first and last time in this library. You will never see me or my Tetris again.

And with that, he swung his backpack over his shoulder coolly and headed down the long carpeted aisle in the other direction.

Only a few moments later did he return to go through the north exit. “Wrong way.” He mumbled, charting past both of you.

—

“So you don’t know anyone in that class?” Taylor said in disbelief as you two sat at the table you had only marginally won.

“No, I missed the first two weeks so by the time I actually went to class they already had their groups.” you responded, blowing air out of your mouth in frustration.

School had only just begun and Taylor had swept up a bunch of friends, including you, in just this one semester.

You, on the other hand, were awkward, but not in the forgivable way. You never knew the right thing to say, and your sarcasm drew a fine line between a joke and the truth. You felt like you always had to bite your tongue to hold a decent conversation with someone. In turn, this scared a lot of people away, and resulted in a small but good group of friends that understood you.

For some reason though, you did well with confrontation. That was the only time you could force yourself to not care about what someone else thought about you. Other than that, your communication skills were almost useless.

“So go up to those kids and say hi.” Taylor responded.

You knew your best friend was being well meaning, but sometimes she felt like she oversimplified your problems because she saw it through her own lens. Of course it would be easy for Taylor to do so, but for you it would be a different story. Your stomach turned at even the mere thought of introducing yourself to the group of strangers that always sat all the way in the front of the lecture hall.

“I’ll just figure it out. I don't know how to just talk to people."

“What about that guy that I just saw you with? What was that about?”

You cleared your throat, fixing your attention to your laptop screen. Getting work done suddenly seemed more interesting.

“No, no, no look at me.” Taylor dragged your laptop away.

You begrudgingly looked at your friend. “What about him?”

“Who was that? He was kind of cute.” She cupped her cheek with her hand and sat closer, clearly interested. It was rare to see you with anyone other than your usual friend group so Taylor was invested in your endeavours outside of it.

You knew that if you told Taylor about your weird argument with a stranger, that she’d explain that you were unfriendly, that you needed to be nicer, etc. etc. You didn’t need a lecture today.

“Just some dude who finished using the table.”

Taylor chuckled, “What kind of guy says bye like that to a person he just met?”

Her guess was as good as yours.

—

ONE WEEK LATER

Determination is setting 25 morning alarms, pre-picking your clothes and opting for an on-the-go breakfast in order to just make it on time for class. You took your final strides towards the class slowly, knowing you finally had time on your side. Would it be crazy to call waking up at 6am a victory? Doesn’t matter, you were just so happy, you could answer Professor Hampton’s questions… that is, if you listened.

At the bottom of the lecture hall, sat the aforementioned groups, while the top were lonesome stragglers looking at their phones in an effort to look less lonely. You knew they were probably just reviewing their settings; turning their wifi on and off.

Professor Hampton cleared her throat into the microphone at the front of the class, prompting you to pick up the pace to your regular spot at the far left corner.

No way.

Your speed slowed down again, as you craned your head to get a better look at a brown-haired boy sitting by himself.

Despite the numerous empty seats to choose from, your caffeine rush assisted you in making the possibly dumb decision of sitting exactly right next to him. He seemed unbothered, though as he didn’t look up to question it.

Professor Hampton played her slides, while you pulled out your laptop out of your tote bag.

“Hey.” You whispered.

The man’s light brown eyes flickered towards you.

“You’re in this class?” Vernon whisper-exclaimed.

It registered in your brain that this might’ve been a mistake.

You nodded.

Vernon kept his focus on the front of the class, his pencil swivelled away on his lined paper. You had never seen anyone actually take real-life notes before. You scanned his paper, pleasantly surprised at the organization.

“Why did you dap me up last week?”

“I honestly don’t know what I was doing.” He admitted.

Boys do dumb things around pretty girls. You'd seen it happen so many times with Taylor.

“She’s cute isn’t she?”

“Who?” Vernon was quick to play dumb, but he clearly knew.

You were fascinated by how he was writing and listening to you at the same time.

“Taylor—my friend.”

Vernon squinted his eyes, either to think or because he couldn’t see the projection clearly. It made you wonder why he sat in the back of the class if that was the case.

“Yeah, she is.”

Bingo.

You silently relished in your impromptu decision to sit next to a stranger.

“What would you say if I got you a date with her?”

Vernon put his pencil down. “You strike me as the kind of person who wouldn’t do that out of the kindness of your heart.”

You snorted. “You’re right.”

Vernon let out a deep sigh, pushing his hoodie sleeve up his arms. He relaxed back in his seat and stared at you as he waited for your proposal.

“What is it?” His deep voice was littered with impatience but it was clear he was at least curious.

You weren’t prepared to gain his full attention. Your mind went several ways as you collected your thoughts to be as concise as possible.

“I’m struggling in this class, okay? I can’t always make it on time, and creative writing? Not really something I’m interested in.”

“Then why’d you take the class?”

“Why does anyone do anything here? For the credit.” You responded as if the answer was obvious.

Vernon’s raised eyebrows was enough to tell you that he was actually passionate about this subject— which was perfect for you if you wanted to pass the class.

“How do I come into this, though?” His patience running thin from your incredibly interesting backstory.

“If you tutor me up until midterms and I pass, I’ll get you a date with Taylor.”

He shook his head “What if you fail?”

“Then you can take that as a reflection of your teaching skills,” Vernon rolled his eyes. Okay maybe that was a bad joke. “but on the plus side you’ve gained a new friendddddd.”

Professor Hampton gave you two a dirty look on her way back from shutting the lecture hall’s door. Vernon picked up his pencil to look busy and you tapped on your trackpad to turn the screen on.

“And what if I say no?” Vernon said between his teeth, catching the professor glare right at him with her scowl turned up to one hundred.

“Then I’ll shit talk about you to Taylor so you never have a chance.” You threatened. Your mom always urged you to use your brain, and boy, were you using it.

“You want me to teach you how to be creative?”

You shrugged. “I mean, how hard can it be?”

Vernon looked down at his notes contemplating his choices. He was silent for so long that you actually started typing notes.

“Y/N” Vernon whispered. You seemed to be fully immersed in the lesson now. Your eyes absorbing the information... Maybe writing was kind of fascinating.

“Y/N” He tried again, snapping you out of a trance.

“My bad.” you apologized. “I didn’t know the interesting part of the story was called the climax like ew—”

“I can only tutor you on Thursdays between 6 and 8 in the library. Bring your laptop and be prepared to learn.”

You knew you didn’t have class at those hours, so it should’ve been fine, but you also dreaded staying after school longer than you had to.

“What about 4-6?” You pleaded.

Vernon looked offended at your counter offer. “No. 6-8”

“4:30…?” You tried once again.

Vernon snorted at your no-quit attitude. “You wanna pass or not?”

You stuck out your hand defeatedly and Vernon shook on it before either of you could change your mind. Vernon was your new tutor.

Maybe Taylor was right. All you had to do was go up to someone and say “hi.”

And blackmail them. And use your friend as bait.

Making friends was easy.

145 notes · View notes

mooniefics · 3 years

Text

— beck and call

pairings : yelena / fem reader

word count : 10.2k

tags : one-sided relationship, lowkey master / servant dynamic, eventual smut, mild body worship, dom / sub undertones, power imbalance

warnings : contains nsfw, mildly dub-con at some points, yelena being physically rough w you for disobedience

summary : serving as yelena's personal guard turned out to yield many unexpected consequences.

to say that you were unnerved by the task of guarding an anti-marleyan volunteer would be an understatement.

you hadn't quite digested the fact there even existed a world beyond the walls that had towered over you for your entire life, looming high in the sky like a reminder that you would be trapped, penned like an animal for the rest of your prospective future. that had been your initial motivation to become a soldier, to at least advance to a garrison position where you could have a taste of exclusive information regarding what lay beyond the stone and metal bearings. but in the final year of your basic training, everything had changed. there were talks of outlandish things, of traitors from another land that had hidden amongst the native people, talks of islands and foreign soil and something more than the confines of the walls.

upon graduating, you had ultimately chosen the scouting legion, seeing how the garrison was quickly being disbanded and the remaining soldiers that hadn't stepped into their early days of retirement were joining the aforementioned regiment. the benefits only seemed to become greater and greater with the extinction of titans, the whispers of allies and retribution and rebuilding a lost legacy of your people. but somehow, all that novel luster had become muted, completely darkened by the imposing presence of this singular individual seated before you. you had only been debriefed on their name and role in military operations before your assignment, leaving you worryingly unprepared for arguably the most important assignment of your career.

the sound of your name passing from your squad leader's lips grounded you, the formal introduction quickly drawing to a close as he relayed the information to the striking foreigner. "she will be your personal escort for the remainder of your stay. if you have any questions regarding the island, feel free to ask her at any time."

"wonderful." their voice was rich, smooth with confidence and underlined with something unfamiliar—it was the way their lips rounded out the first syllable, or perhaps the way they spoke from the depths of their throat.

you felt your back stiffen as they rose from their seat, somehow rising taller and taller, their stature reaching much higher than anyone you'd ever met. immediately, your right hand clamped into a fist, thudding over your heart as your left arm hooked behind your back, spitting out your full name and designation just as you had while saluting hundreds of times. "i'm incredibly grateful for this opportunity to occupy you. thank you for all that you and the volunteers have done for paradis."

you were shocked that your voice hadn't quivered with the way their eyes dragged down your body, grey and barren of any emotion besides a hint of intrigue, sharp features framed by short, fair hair. they were strikingly handsome, masculine yet feminine at the same time, an indiscernible sort of beauty that perplexed and enthralled you.

"no need to thank me, soldier." whether they were assuring or commanding you, you didn't know, only cognizant of how they nearly purred out your title. swallowing, you lowered your hands, standing at ease and forcing yourself to not look to your superior for encouragement.

"then i shall show you to your lodgings. please follow me."

you forced yourself to turn your back to them and take a step, then another, mentally counting them one by one until you reached the door. you could hear their heavy footfalls following behind you, the distance steadily beginning to close until you forced your own pace to quicken. on the silent walk out of the management building, you had found a speed that worked, one long stride of theirs equaling two of yours, leaving you straining to keep a comfortable yet polite space between the both of you. you risked a glance back, having to crane your head up to catch a glimpse of their face. they had been staring idly at the back of your head, meeting your eyes when you turned to briefly face them, the moment cut short by your own haste to fix your view back onto the path before you.

"how shall i address you?" you attempted to fill the cool void of discomfort that had suddenly settled in the air around you, shoulders tense and brow taut.

"anything works."

their answer offered nothing in return to your inquiry, the faint image of their face flitting across your mind. you hadn't looked at them long enough to commit their features to memory, but you had looked enough to remember their startlingly cold eyes, angular nose and full lips, sharp jaw and heavy brow.

"m-miss yelena?" you attempted, fighting the urge to nervously fidget or give away any sign of your unease.

"if it suits you." was their final reply before the two of you fell silent once again.

the lack of discussion persisted through the remainder of the journey, the only sounds occupying the space being the fall of your boots against the ground and the jingle of your keyring that you drew from your pocket to unlock the front door. you stood aside to hold it open as she walked in, feeling an odd sensation flutter in the pit of your stomach when she had to duck under the frame to enter. the housing itself wasn't extravagant, only a single open room with a desk, bookshelf, dresser, kitchenette, bed, and a small bathroom area to the side to occupy the space, the ceiling seeming much lower than it was due to yelena's formidable height. she looked out at the room, flicking a stray lock of hair out of her eyes, face neutral and inexpressive.

"how quaint," she turned to face you, a prick of unease making your posture pin-straight once again, "is there any reason they've put us volunteers away from the main soldier barracks?"

your mind suddenly went blank at the worst of times, unknowing of the exact answer but knowing you had to over something in response. "s-simply for your comfort. we wouldn't like it to seem as if we don't trust you to stay on your own."

"ah, so considerate of you." for the first time she smiled, a barely-there tilt at the corner of her lips that made your heart stutter, "then i'll be sure to make myself at home."

she stepped slowly over to the bookshelf, dragging her fingers over the backs of the books with an apparent interest. you stayed standing where you were, unsure if you should leave then or wait a bit longer for just the right moment. something about her presence was unnerving, but there was also an undeniable allure that you almost gravitated to, despite her being a stranger.

"do you need anything else?" you piped up, letting your hands link behind your back, fingers twisting together.

"not that i can think of." each word seemed scripted, as if she'd practiced this entire conversation a dozen times before it'd ever happened.

"then i'll be on my way." you shakily smiled in an attempt to seem put together, hoping that she didn't immediately see through the weak front, "i'll be back in a couple of hours to escort you to dinner."

you bowed and took your leave, almost desperate to escape her all-consuming gaze and find refuge outside her line of sight. but even after you'd shut the door behind you and stepped off the porch, well on your way down the path you'd taken, you could still feel how her eyes had examined every fine detail of your stance, analyzing every shift and subtle movement you made with a calculating look. deep down, you already knew that this position would be completely exhausting from the get-go.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

you had fulfilled your typical nightly routine—fetch yelena from her quarters to escort her to the cafeteria, go your separate ways and sit at your usual tables after getting food, finish your dinner with five minutes to spare in the dining hour to go inform yelena that it was time for her to wrap up her meal so you could take her back. she'd followed you down the usual path, now lit with newly placed street lamps that turned on after the sun sunk below the horizon and night fell. there had been nothing out of the ordinary, aside from the way the volunteer table had eyed you with a formerly absent intrigue when you came to speak to yelena.

that comfortable distance you'd kept between the two of you had slowly been narrowing over the last few days, a development which had peaked both your curiosity and your anxiety. while you still kept yourself a few paces ahead of her, you could feel how close her presence had become, an almost physical weight that settled itself over your back and urged you to walk faster and faster to escape its grasp. but you knew that she was all too good at reading your body language, somehow having familiarized herself with even the finest idiosyncrasies that incriminated you in just about a month, an understanding that had only grown deeper as more and more time had passed. although you felt as if you'd gained the upper hand for a few days when you realized that she always let a bit of emotion slip in her large, ashen eyes when you said something just enough out of the ordinary to catch her interest, any progress you thought you'd made was quickly squandered by her own advancements. today was no different, another morning and afternoon filled with dodging the occasional pervasive question from her about the simplest of things.

were you an only child? had you been closer to your mother or father when you were younger? did you join the scouts to explore the world or because you simply found no value in living out your life doing something different? they had started out with an ambiguous end-goal, but slowly evolved into even more unprofessional matters—attempts to provoke a discussion about your love life, what you might look for in a prospective partner, whether you wanted to settle down after you retired or stay unattached for the remainder of your life.

you always dodged, and she always let up for a while, lulling you into a sense of safety that was always broken by that same question again, worded differently but asking for an answer that was the same as the last. the more you ran from her company, the more she seemed to push it upon you, pleased when you would slip up and get flustered when she caught you off guard. so you held your ground this evening, even when your fingers quivered at the realization that she was practically peering over your shoulder, watching you unlock the door to her quarters with just barely enough space separating you to not feel her breath fanning down the back of your neck.

you quickly opened the door and began moving to hold it open for her like you always did, but felt a large hand resting at your shoulder, prompting you to quickly spin on your heel to face her. she was usually finished with her casual interrogating by this hour, which was why you were more than surprised to see that she was staring down at you, having lowered yourself to your level enough for you to not have to tilt your head completely back to meet her eye.

you took an instinctive step back, flinching at the sound of the door falling shut behind you, effectively caging you in between it and the woman before you. pale, dangerously alert irises traversed your expression, drinking in every small feature that had been drawn back into a confused look, stomach already knotting into a twisted tangle of warmth and icy panic.

"are you afraid of me?"

the immediate answer sat on the tip of your tongue, lips parting to deliver the lie you had ready for such an inquiry. but something in her eyes spoke to you, silently, warning you not to give into dishonesty. you couldn't possibly admit to still being fearful of her, not when you were meant to be the powerful one in this relationship. you weren't supposed to say yes, but you also found yourself unable to lie as you always did, not when the path you'd walked with her was still worryingly empty and you felt the hard wood of the door now pressing unforgivingly into your back with each minuscule step back.

"sh-should i be?" you cursed your stammer, betraying your evident lack of control, the only redeeming aspect being the non-committal implication that responding with another question held.

that seemed to throw her off a bit, owlish eyes slowly blinking at you as she thought. even up close like this, you couldn't identify a single flaw in her appearance—pale skin smooth like porcelain, unconcerned by any sort of natural imperfections, hair like fine silk and eyes piercingly bright, yet clouded like a stormy sky. you squeaked at a hand seizing your collar, right hand instinctively flying down to the scabbard strapped around your thigh, clammy palm shakily clenching around the hilt of your blade, the other clamping firmly around her wrist.

she only smirked at the presumed threat, pressing herself even closer to you, enough that you could feel the radiant heat of her lips just barely grazing your own. you suppressed the trembling threatening to shake through your every limb, beginning to feel lightheaded with the effort to contain your quickening breaths, swallowing down your dread, forcing yourself to meet her gaze when she spoke.

"if it suits you. it doesn't affect me either way, does it?"

you just barely shook your head side to side, not realizing you were rising up onto your tiptoes until she pulled you forward that last inch by your shirt, eyes falling shut as her lips melded easily against yours. an inexplicable warmth flourished in your chest, heart tripping up to match the frantic speed of your thoughts, fingers clenching around her slender, clothed wrist. you forced yourself back with a sharp intake of breath, backing yourself far enough into the door that you could feel the wood digging into the small of your back.

"m-miss yelena, you can't—!"

she didn't allow you to finish, tugging you back to your previous position with a low huff, the faint snap of a stitch popping somewhere on your collar going unregarded as you let out a small noise of surprise, wide eyes relenting and squeezing shut. a voice in the back of your mind screamed for you to draw your knife, push her away, force her into her quarters, anything but just standing there and allowing her to exert such a humiliating power over you. but it was so much easier to sink into her grasp, to feel her fingers slowly relax and hold you at a comfortable height rather than force you up, to allow the hot flush of an unknown intimacy to settle deep into your skin.

you'd been kissed before, it wasn't as if she stole your first chance from you, but it had never been like this. you had only brushed the surface of gentle pecks and lingering hands on the other's face until you both giggled and pulled away, never faced with such a certain confidence that almost frightened you more than it allured you, an unspoken order that left you at her mercy rather than on equal footing. and though you'd all but forgotten about your initial rejection, yelena had not, chastising you with a firm bite to your lower lip that drew a less-than-composed whimper from the back of your throat.

"i would advise you to not dictate what i can and cannot do in the future." she stated firmly, tone devoid of any personal inflection, barely pulling away enough for you to meet her stare, hand tightening around your collar once more, "understood?"

"y-yes, miss yelena." you barely whispered, nodding affirmatively. a flicker of amusement momentarily lightened her expression when you drew your tongue over the aching skin of your lips, the taste of faint copper and black tea clinging to your taste buds.

she slowly slackened her grip, not even so much as blinking as she straightened her posture and reached past you to open the door, allowing you a moment to scamper out of her path and pull your shirt back into place with trembling hands. "then, you are dismissed, soldier."

she didn't spare you a second glance before proceeding into her quarters, shutting the door behind her without another word. you stood dumbly for a moment, licking over your bottom lip once more, just then realizing how shallow and quick your breathing was. you steadied yourself enough to lock her door, shaking away the mental fog of such an abrupt change of scenery, pulling your jacket tighter around you to make up for the lack of her warmth pressing into you, confused as to why you had just allowed yourself to be ordered around by the individual that you were meant to be keeping in check. the walk back to your dorm was blurry at best, a few good-nights from your colleagues that prompted a hum of acknowledgement, thankfully nothing that required you to recount your daily fulfilled duties or anything past a few minutes prior.

even after you'd shed your clothes, pointedly ignoring how wrinkled your shirt front had become, cleaned yourself up and crawled into the isolated comfort of your bed, you found yourself unable to sleep. perhaps you could learn from this experience, remind yourself at all times to put even more distance between the two of you. maybe you would have to stop conversing with her so casually, or perhaps your best option would be to cut your losses and request an assignment change, consequences or record mark-ups be damned. but as you tossed and turned on your mattress, burying your face into your pillows and trying to rid your skin of any memory of her touch, a voice at the back of your head ceaselessly murmured, a rambled premonition of more turbulence to come.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

this day marked five weeks since the initial incident, there had been no activity like it since—although you couldn't say whether you thought that was a bad thing or not. not to say that you hadn't been keeping your distance, the first few days were spent cautiously looking over your shoulder, making sure to keep her even further than arm's length but still close enough to guarantee that she couldn't slip away on her own. she behaved respectfully enough, although she herself seemed to be acting as if nothing had even happened, greeting you like normal and allowing you to escort her to meals and strategy meetings when necessary, despite how she'd affirmed that you weren't to give her any orders.

you hadn't reported the infraction to any superiors, knowing that you would get caught up in an unnecessary fuss that might even get you stuck at the bottom of the ranking list once again, an unthinkable outcome that only made you sure that the right decision was to keep your mouth shut. the previous afternoon was the first time yelena had made a special request, describing how unfortunate it was that she was lacking just a few proper amenities that would really make her lodgings "feel just like home". your persistent hesitance had eased after the first week of safety, and you fulfilled your responsibility of maintaining her comfort by arriving early this morning, toting a small bag of a dark ground powder and cups.

you were surprised to see that yelena was already awake upon your arrival, seated at a table that looked far too small for her, reading one of the many books from her provided bookshelf. you exchanged polite greetings, her not rising from her place until you'd lit the fire beneath the stove and set out a plate and cup for her at the counter, stowing away the rest in whatever free space you could find. you stood by while she took care of making whatever it was she wanted herself, noting the fragrant richness that had filled the air upon her steeping the powder in heated water.

"they only serve black tea in the cafeteria," she said, speaking to no one in particular, plucking a ladle from the utensil rack, "it's been ages since i had a cup of coffee in the morning."

the heat of the stove was beginning to warm the room, prompting you to shed your jacket and place it on the back of the chair yelena had not been previously seated at. your shirt beneath it was more forgiving, a thin material that had always hung a bit loosely from your shoulders, great for the hotter days when you were still expected to be in uniform.

"have you ever had a cup of coffee?" her voice interrupted your meandering stream of thought, the sound of liquid being poured into a cup faintly catching your attention.

"no, i don't think i have."

"would you like to try some?"

the offer stoked the spark of bothersome curiosity, the scent filling the air and mingling with the ambient sound of crackling wood and the feel of the hot air making you want to accept. perhaps this was her way of making amends, or just doing something pleasant for the worker that she was made to follow behind like their second shadow.

"if it's not too much trouble, then.."

"of course it isn't."

you felt a light sweat beginning to bead down your back, pulling your handkerchief from your pocket and dabbing at your neck. this space wasn't properly suited for a stove to be used, seeing as the unlatching mechanisms on the window had been removed for the sake of thwarting any sort of curfew breaking by the volunteers, meaning there was little ventilation aside from the small chimney extending out of the kitchenette area. you stole a glance at yelena, now opening the cabinet that you had strained to reach with ease.

the memory of her hand fisting your shirt, the collar that now hugged just the slightest bit looser at the base of your neck, the long healed-over bite that had left the soft flesh of your lips feeling raw for the following few days. the external heat of the still burning stove was only intensified by the flush climbing up to your cheeks, the desire to release a button or two on your shirt and free some of your skin to the open air becoming undeniable. it felt a bit ironic that the one time you'd properly stepped into her quarters for more than a quick minute to help her get something sorted was the one time the tension that always hung in the air between the two of you was replaced by something tangibly suffocating, the sweltering heat that made you kick off your blankets in the dreary silence at night when the recollection of her kiss relentlessly looped in your mind and chased away any thought of sleep.

you hooked a finger on the collar of your shirt, gently tugging it to the side to absentmindedly press the soft cloth over the skin, wiping away any bothersome perspiration that would leave you uncomfortable by the time you were allowed to change out of your uniform and shower it away.

"what's that?" your eyes darted up at her question, catching sight of the two plated teacups in her hands before you met her gaze.

"i beg your pardon?" you asked meekly.

"that. at your shoulder." you glanced down to where your handkerchief had previously been.

"oh, do you mean this?" she nodded when you pointed to the raised line of skin marring your shoulder, a thick scar that you'd stopped fussing over after realizing that it was an inevitable outcome. "it's a scar," you clarified, tucking your personal cloth back in your pocket, "just about everyone in the military has the same one."

she didn't respond, but held your gaze as she proceeded to the table to set the cups down. you'd become more accustomed to these silent requests, and you knew that she was telling you to continue.

"you work with the equipment engineers, right?" she nodded. "then you've seen our harnesses. all those leather straps end up digging into our skin and leaving scars pretty much all over. although, i did practice on the omnidirectional gear a bit more than all the other recruits during basic training to increase my proficiency, so mine may be deeper.."

you tensed as she approached, slow, deliberate steps steadily closing the distance between the two of you until she was right in front of you. she had started stooping down more often around you, only when she was directly addressing you alone, but it was something that you noticed all the same. a part of you wanted to feel offended, that she thought it necessary to lower yourself to your level as if you were beneath her in a way besides physical stature, but you couldn't deny that you enjoyed the exclusive treatment. she never seemed concerned with doing any sort of thing with anyone else—not with her colleagues, not with other soldiers of or below your ranking, not with any of your own superiors, only you. in a way, it made you feel acknowledged.

"could i see?"

"huh?" was your unprofessional response, but she didn't allow you any time to correct it.

"your scars. where else do you have them?"

"oh." you swallowed, forcing yourself to look up into her steely eyes, "well, i have them on the soles of my feet, and around my thighs, mostly around my torso."

a hand on your abdomen made your back go stiff, her touch pressing lightly over your shirt. "here?"

you nodded, small and timid before her, a trickle of sweat beginning to slide down your back. you realized that you had never had to look down at yelena, not until this present moment where she had knelt down on one knee in front of you, holding your gaze for just a moment before she undid a single button from the bottom of your shirt, glancing up at you as if to check for any sign of refusal before she undid another, then another.

there was nothing forceful about her motions today, nimble fingers patiently unfastening each clasp with care until your shirt revealed your midsection. one slender hand pulled aside the cotton fabric, the other reaching out, just barely grazing the skin of your stomach where the long, pale scar from your utility belt stretched horizontally across your body. her fingertips were warm from handling the kitchenware, but the shiver that crawled up your spine was cold, almost electric, a strange sensation squeezing around your heart and lungs, making each breath quicker than the last.

"was it painful?" she asked quietly, a tinge of earnesty lining her words, features entirely relaxed as they always were.

you let out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding, voice barely reaching a whisper. "yes."

she focused her eyes onto the marred skin, following the raised line of flesh to your sides, brow cinching upwards the slightest bit at the sight of another carving down your waist, following the curvature of your ribs.

"what resilience.." she murmured, free hand returning to undo the remaining buttons of your shirt, "determination is such a beautiful trait, don't you think?" her eyes flitted up to meet yours, sharp and observant, fingers gingerly wrapping around your waist, thumb stroking down your lumbar. "for most, i have to hear it in their voice, or through their words—but it has always been different with you." she pulled a button free. "i see it in your eyes, the way you carry yourself, it's written all over your body." another undone button, you could feel the warmth of her breath fanning across your stomach, the graze of her fingertips tracing up your side and halting at the cloth wrappings over your breasts. "are there more under this?"

your knees felt a few flattering words away from buckling, each gentle touch making the fine hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. you nodded, lips parting to take in a much-needed deep breath, realizing that your shirt was now completely open, exposing the entirety of your scarred torso aside from what remained covered by your chest bindings. your fingers curled into your palm, trembling, just then noticing how soft yelena's hands were in comparison to your own, absent of callous and work-roughened skin. you bit at the inside of your cheek, blinking down at her as you watched a thin finger trace the seam of the cloth, finding the tucked end within moments and gently pulling it free.

a few loud knocks at the door were startling enough to make you jump, head snapping to the side to face the front of the house, a muffled call of your last name from the other side making an anxious knot twist painfully tight deep in your gut. you quickly stepped away, leaving yelena kneeling on the floor, struggling to button up your shirt without even bothering to fix your chest cloth. as soon as you'd gotten yourself situated, you opened the door to find your squad leader awaiting you on the other side.

"is everything alright? breakfast started five minutes ago."

you hoped that the disbelief on your face could be taken as the expression of someone who had simply lost track of time. "i apologize, sir! m-miss yelena put in a request for marleyan coffee yesterday, and i was simply waiting for her to finish before i escorted her to the cafeteria."

you forced yourself to stay composed, trying to focus on the impassive face of your squad leader. there was a stark difference between the emotionlessness of yelena and that of everyone else around you, she somehow made her lack of any sort of feeling or warmth a beautiful kind of coldness, unlike the unnatural stoicism of your superiors. you saw his mouth open to reply, but you were both surprised by a sudden presence behind you, a firm hand at your shoulder, his eyes moving from looking down at you to looking up at the woman behind you, a flicker of genuine unease flitted across his hardened features.

"please don't fault her for my lack of punctuality," she said, a false sincerity lightening her usual low tone, "i simply wanted to enjoy a taste of home, is all. is my presence imperative?"

"i was only making sure everyone was accounted for." your squad leader asserted, staring up at her in an obvious attempt to intimidate that you knew would fail, "as long as you're being properly monitored, do as you please."

"understood." her fingers curled around your shoulder, gently urging you back, away from the door, "then i won't dawdle any longer, i'll join you all in the cafeteria momentarily."

yelena shut the door for you as soon as you took a step back, waiting until the steps of your squad leader had descended off of the porch and disappeared down the path before speaking to you. "i do hope i didn't get you in trouble."

you turned on your heel to face her, feeling a slight flutter in your chest at the sight of her already having lowered herself to your height. "oh, no, you don't have to worry about that.. he's always been a bit on the uptight side of things."

the corners of her lips perked up into the faintest smile before she proceeded back to the table, pressing a finger to the side of one of the teacups. "the coffee's gone cold now. my apologies for the distraction."

distraction, the wry thought flitted across your mind. you guessed that word was suitably to describe allowing her to nearly undress you before the sun had even fully risen in the sky. this was becoming a dangerous game, an ever-lengthening round of cat and mouse, and each day that passed made your more and more certain that you were the one who was running despite your inherent position of power over her. there was something absolutely captivating about her, whether it be the air of mystery that no amount of questions could dispel, or the way that she could practically bring you to your knees with just a few careful words—the more thought you put into it, the more instances of appeal that you seemed to find that only made you want to sink deeper and deeper into the depths that was her subtle control over you.

"i just don't want us to arrive late and miss out on anything." you said lamely, empty words to fill the air as you moved across the room to grab your jacket.

"perhaps another time." she replied, removing the dishes from the table to deposit them in the sink, leaving you with that sole promise that insinuated much more than just another cup of coffee.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"miss yelena, i don't know if we're allowed to be in this section of the building—"

"no one has stopped us yet, have they?" yelena didn't turn back to address you, only continuing forward with that long stride that took two quick steps of your own to match.

she was correct in the regard that no one had questioned her presence in the west wing of the management building, and the few that had begun to object stopped immediately upon catching sight of you following obediently behind her. you felt a bit like a prop, being used as almost a badge of clearance by the one and only individual that you were meant to keep from unauthorized locations such as this one. but her flat assertion that she had important business that gave you nothing in the way of information of direction before she'd taken off for the barracks, leaving you only able to chase after her and hope that no one figured out that she wasn't supposed to be there in the event that she truly wasn't meant to be.

you didn't have long to ruminate on your circumstances before you arrived at a door flanked by a single soldier, a young man that you recognized as someone affiliated with the more well-known soldiers from the 104th graduating class. though you didn't recall his name, you nodded politely to him as he opened the door for yelena, trailing closely behind her while still trying to peek around her slender frame. it was one of the smaller meeting rooms, a large window providing a fair amount of natural illumination down onto the round table, the sole occupant being another one of the anti-marleyan volunteers.

"glad to see you could make it." onyankopon smiled broadly up at yelena, his warm gaze flitting to you momentarily before traveling back to his associate, "no trouble, i assume?"

"none at all." she replied as she took a seat at the head of the table, looking as if she belonged there more than any of the superiors you'd seen seated there, "this one made sure no one interrupted our trip."

you flushed at the praise, standing pin straight beside her chair, hands lowering from behind your back to at your sides, trying not to let the enjoyment of her commendation show on your face. he turned his attention to you, inspiring a quick skip of your heart, fingers tapping nervously at your thighs.

"it's great to hear that yelena has been treating you well." he said matter-of-factly, but a cocked eyebrow and tilt of his head seemed to request a verbal confirmation of his statement.

you blinked, your words catching in your throat as your eyes involuntarily glanced to yelena, an instinctive desire to hold your tongue in the face of speaking about her, an odd sort of insecurity concerning your character flaring in your chest. but that split second of silence was all that she needed to take up the task of answering onyankopon, planting an elbow down on the tabletop and resting her chin in her palm.

"i have been treating her well." she affirmed, almost sounding bored, tilting her head to address you as she reached out and took the hand of yours that was closest to her, drawing it close to her face as she examined your expression, "isn't that right?"

you swallowed, mouth dry, nodding at yelena before remembering that you were meant to be answering onyankopon. "oh, y-yes. miss yelena has been very easy to work with."

pale eyes glimmered at your positive answer, mouth twitching upwards into that rare, barely noticeable smile. you felt your heart jump into your throat as she brought her lips to your knuckles, planting a soft, brief kiss over the back of your hand before gently placing it down at your side. she looked at you as if she knew exactly what you were thinking, like she could hear that unspoken worry of whether she should be doing this in front of her colleague, like she was giving the silent reply that she could do as she pleased.

"then, shall we begin?" onyankopon's voice brought you back to the present, shooting you another momentary glance before fixing his eyes on yelena.

"oh, right." she turned back to you, "be a dear and leave us for a moment to chat."

the mix of confusion at her request and surprise at the affectionate title halted your thoughts. "i'm sorry, miss yelena, but i don't think i'm allowed to do that."

your heart sank as you watched a look of annoyance draw across her features, large eyes narrowing, brow knitting together. she didn't speak for a moment, almost like she was waiting for you to take back your refusal and head on your way without any further discussion. when you did neither, she frowned, reaching out her hand once more, her fingers drawing up your palm to wrap around your wrist.

you nearly yelped as she clinched her grasp almost painfully tight, thumb pressing down hard over the bone at the side of your wrist, nails digging in your skin. her voice was low when she spoke, dangerously commanding and castigating, each word carefully enunciated.

"i said go."

only after you'd earnestly nodded did she release you, allowing you to scamper out of the room, blinking away the tears that had begun to well in your eyes from your stinging skin and the way she'd spoken to you. you took your place at the side of the door unoccupied by the soldier you'd seen before entering, fingers shakily tracing over the underside of your wrist.

though you weren't bleeding, the skin felt raw and irritated, your pulse racing fast in your veins. perhaps it wasn't so bad that you'd left them in there on their own, seeing as the older, more experienced guard was also standing by, well aware that there was no one monitoring them in the meeting room. so you obediently stood and waited, straining to make out coherent words from their muffled voices, contemplating why seeing yelena upset with you was so distressing.

why had you allowed her to order you around? why had you even complied with her demands instead of outright refusing like you were supposed to? why were you worried that she would still be angry with you by the time she walked out of that meeting room? you couldn’t understand what concerned you so deeply about what yelena thought of you, but somehow, the overbearing silence of the empty hallway made it even more difficult to wrap your head around your thoughts. you were so wrapped up in your panicked attempt at contemplation that you didn’t even notice the sound of their footsteps approaching from the other side of the door, only torn from your mind when the door opened from beside you. the two marleyans emerged, laughing affably together, exchanging temporary farewells until they could see each other at dinner that evening.

you looked up at her anxiously, wishing she’d spare you a glance for even just a moment instead of keeping her gaze fixed on the only other individuals populating the space. you hid your hands behind your back rather than in your pockets, knowing that it’d look horrendously unprofessional. but before you could worry about anyone catching sight of the reddened marks, the familiar soldier addressed you directly.

“i do look forward to working more closely with you in the future, i don’t believe we’ve met before. ” he said, outstretching a hand for you to shake, “floch forster.”

you quickly tugged the sleeve of your coat over your injured wrist, grasping his hand and giving a firm up and down, only offering your own name and a polite nod in return. you didn’t exactly know what he meant by working together in the future, but you assumed that it was in reference to your shared position of personal guards to marleyan volunteers.

you tensed at the familiar weight of a hand on your shoulder, feeling a firm squeeze that you knew all too well. “then we shall be going now. come.”

you immediately complied, giving a brief goodbye to the two men before proceeding quickly behind yelena, practically at her heels as the two of you walked further and further down the hall, shrouded in another bout of tense silence. you escorted her out of the building without issue, through the barracks and all the way to her lodgings, receiving nothing in the way of assurance or acknowledgment the entire way.

you wanted to speak up for yourself, ask if she was angered with you, anything to fill the quiet void, but you couldn't bring your mouth to push the words free. you hoped that she'd at least offer you her usual goodbye, as inherently lifeless and out of polite necessity as it may be, but it didn't come even as you unlocked the door to her quarters and held it open for her to enter, not even turning back before she sat herself at her desk and got to work on the clutter of papers occupying it.

you left her, feeling strangely heavy with defeat, unable to focus on anything for long before your mind strayed back to her upset expression, or the physical evidence of her displeasure with you. over the next hours, you constantly checked your watch, counting down the minutes to dinner, to when you'd be able to justify being in her presence and hopefully receive some sort of indicator that you were in the clear. you'd always been someone who did what was asked of you, a people pleaser—but there was something different about the inclination you felt towards yelena. it wasn't the kind of obedience that you gave to your superiors, she wasn't anything close to your superior in a technical sense, but somehow it felt natural, a servitude borne out of free will rather than one determined by ranking.

you knew you hadn't done anything wrong by denying her initially, but yet you still hoped for her forgiveness.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

you quivered at the feeling of her lips sucking at the already marked skin of your neck, thighs squeezing tighter around her waist, her nails digging deep enough into them that they nearly threatened to tear the fabric of your pants. you swallowed down yet another moan, one hand working its way deeper into her short hair, the other clenching tightly to the fabric of her barely-buttoned dress shirt. your soft, shuddering breaths filled the space of the open air around you, the fear of knowing your squad leader was just outside the door waiting for a reply, adjacent to the wall that she'd pushed you up against despite your meek warnings that dinner would be starting any minute now, was almost tangible in your stomach.

she pulled away from the reddened flesh with a low hum, nipping at your ear as she demanded, "make him go away."

you barely nodded, eyes screwing shut when she began yet another bruising assault to your shoulder, not even giving you enough time to collect yourself and speak. "i apologize, s-sir. miss yelena wasn't f-feeling well, so i brought her meal h-h-here instead of escorting her to the cafeteria..!"

you nearly whimpered as her teeth sank into the soft junction between your neck and shoulder, silently praying to any higher power that may be listening for your superior to just leave already. "understood. please return the plates to the cafeteria before they close up and make it to the dormitories before curfew."

"y-yes, sir..!"

you could barely count his descending steps down the porch over the sound of your own blood roaring in your ears, only completely assured of his absence when she sighed against your skin, soothing the ache with a few apologetic licks, pressing her lips everywhere they could reach. you often found yourself recalling the first time this had happened, when the two of you were sitting at the table in her quarters and she had been apologizing for the day she'd ordered you out of the meeting room. you could still remember how her touch had trailed from stroking at your wrist, crescent nail prints still occupying your skin, to cupping your face, drawing you close to kiss her again and again—the heat of her proximity, how her hands had felt and caressed every inch of your body, whispering a breathless, endless stream of praises into your ear as you came apart under her.

though you had vowed to yourself that wouldn't allow it to happen again, that that night would be your first and only instance of giving into that weakness she'd slowly but surely carved into you, but you found yourself sinking into her arms when she beckoned you, sewing the buttons of your shirt back into place without complaint after the nights where she had become impatient and accidentally popped them free, staring at your naked body in the mirror after your long showers and tracing your fingers over the bruises she'd sucked and bitten into your tender skin.

she only marked you in places where you could hide them beneath your clothes, places which assured that she would be the sole individual to see them when she stripped you bare, only to add more and more. there was no set time between those late evenings, sometimes the interval would be less than a few days, and other times it would stretch out for weeks with no indication as to when the next occasion would come. but when it did, any semblance of self-restraint had completely diminished.

"you're such a good pet for me.." she cooed, her words sending a warm spark through every inch of you.

she'd become fond of calling you that, and a part of you wondered if that was all she saw you as, as only a pet or a possession. you'd accepted that she had the upper hand in this relationship, whatever it may be, but you couldn't help enjoying the feeling of being desired so deeply, being touched and admired in ways you'd never even imagined before you met her. your arms clasped tighter around her neck as she pulled you away from the wall, laying you out on her bed, taking a moment to strip out of her shirt before lowering herself on top of you.

her hands busied themselves ridding you of your chest wrappings, lips attentively traversing each inch of newly revealed skin, murmuring curses and sweet nothings that only made you squirm more beneath her, impatient and eager. you mewled when she'd finally settled her hands over her bare breast, large palms pressing into soft flesh, slender fingers pinching at your nipples. she turned her head up to kiss you, tongue outlining the seam of your lips before sliding into your mouth, claiming it as her own.

you were left panting when she pulled away despite its briefness, hazy, low-lidded eyes finding her own, intoxicated by that carnal look, dark pupils nearly overtaking the piercing grey of her irises. she only smirked at your lack of composure, dipping her head back down to suck and bite at the valley of your breasts, your fingers reflexively tightening in her hair. your hips bucked up into nothing, desperate for any sort of friction, much to yelena's amusement.

"aren't you just the neediest little thing?" she paused to lave her tongue over a pert bud, drawing another heated sigh from you as you nodded, hoping that your agreement could persuade her to not spend so much time teasing you.

she granted you the slightest relief, taking your nipple between your lips and sucking at it, the hand not occupied with another breast trailing down the scar etched into your side, following the path down to your navel to begin unbuttoning your pants. each second seemed to drag on longer than the last, and though you knew that she wasn't purposely drawing out the process of undressing you, it was still not enough. you were practically kicking your underwear to the floor by the time they made their way around your ankles, skin still burning hot despite being fully exposed to the air.

"p-please, miss yelena.." you whimpered at the feeling of her hand tracing up and down your inner thigh, occasionally stopping to stroke across the raised lines of skin that had been inscribed into your skin by the series of belts and buckles on your gear harness, but never proceeding that final inch up to where you needed it.

she pulled away to let out a low chuckle, peering up at you through dark lashes, bare chest pressed flush against your stomach. she drank in the way your face shifted as she rested the pad of her thumb over your clit, rubbing languid circles over it as her pointer finger dipped down your cunt, instantly slick with your arousal.

"you're so worked up from just that?" she taunted, speaking at barely a murmur, "or was it because somebody was listening?"

you felt the knot of anticipation drawing tight in the pit of your stomach, watching as she took her fingers in her mouth and licked over them, thighs shuddering when she returned to their previous position. "i-it was— i j-just— please.."

you could barely form a coherent thought, back arching up to urge your body as close to hers as you could manage, only cognizant of just how close you were to being relieved of that unbearable pressure welling within you. she only smiled, close-lipped and cunning, resting her head over your heaving chest.

"your heart is racing. i wonder how much faster i could make it go.."

you nearly whined as two fingers slid into you with little resistance, her mouth closing over a nipple, alternating between gently tugging at it with her teeth and flicking over it with the tip of her tongue. your hips rocked up into her hand, matching the pace of her wrist as your head dug back into the mattress, moans and incoherent pleas spilling from your parted lips.

you could feel yourself quickly approaching that rapturous peak, hands fisting the sheets under you, white stars blotting out your vision as she curled her fingers just right. you shuddered, gasping, eyes rolling aimlessly into the back of your head as the tension that had wound itself into every muscle finally released, coming completely undone beneath her. you pressed a shaking hand over your mouth, muffling the sound of your winded breaths, letting out a small noise when she relieved you of her fingers. you felt her lips grazing over your chest, forcing your head up to look at her with bleary eyes when their feather-light touch proceeded lower and lower down your stomach.

you had expected things to come to an end as they usually did, with her pulling her clothes back on before you even had the chance to see straight and gathering your own garments from the floor to hand to you, leaving you to walk back to your dormitories on trembling legs in your wrinkled uniform. but there was no sign of that immediate withdrawal as she gathered your thighs in her hands, lifting your legs up onto her shoulders as she pressed a brief kiss over your naval.

you licked your lips nervously, already more than too sensitive at just the feeling of her breath over your soaked cunt. you opened your mouth to meekly object or ask for just a moment longer to catch your breath, but she shushed you, her heavy-lidded gaze sending a fresh bout of heat across your skin. each little quiver of your thighs only made her grip fasten, unable to keep still as she kissed at the scars and soft flesh, drawing a stifled whimper when she stopped to suck a deep mark at a spot of untarnished skin.

you could see the pale expanse of yelena's back, pristine and absent of any previous traumas, the complete opposite of your own. the first time you'd see her undressed, you couldn't take your eyes off of her slender frame, lined with muscle from her days as a soldier but still so delicate. you'd never left any marks when she'd allow you to kiss at her neck and chest, only enough to see the rosy flush settle over her body, but by that time she was more than eager to get back to playing with you instead.

you took in a deep, unsteady breath, jaw clenching and stomach tightening as her tongue drew flat up the length of your cunt, a small moan breaking from your parted lips. she pressed forward, flicking the tip of her tongue over your clit in a merciless rhythm, holding your thighs apart to accommodate her presence each time they attempted to squeeze shut. you writhed over the sheets, her name slipping from you between high-pitched whines and labored breaths, minutes melting past in an incomprehensible blur, leaving you only cognizant of her tongue and hands dragging you back over that edge again and again.

by the time she'd released you, you could barely hold your eyes open, thighs aching from her fingers digging into them, throat raw from crying out for her and gasping in what never seemed to be enough air, feeling too exhausted to even think about making the walk back to your own room. but rather than hand your clothes to you in a silent cue for your departure, you watched her make her way back up the mattress to lay beside you, pulling your heavy, sweat-slicked body against her own. you couldn't try to refuse the comfort of her warmth, face pressing into her chest, breathing in her soft, clean scent, still occasionally trembling as you tentatively allowed your hands to cling to her.

you told yourself not to get comfortable, to try to regain control of your limbs by the time her sympathy for overworking you had worn off and she ordered you away for the night, but the demand never came. you felt a large hand settle at the base of your neck, another splaying across the small of your back, her chin resting on the crown of your head, holding you close like a lover would.

"you could stay for the night if you'd like." her tone was even and collected as it always was, but hushed, like she was murmuring a secret to you.

you knew that sleeping her had already far overstepped whatever boundary had been abandoned that night she'd first kissed you, the morning where she'd marveled at your body and commended your courage, every instance you'd obeyed her rather than carry out the simple orders you were given. it was already too late to tear yourself away from this presence that you'd grown so familiar with—the one that you had feared, the one that you now craved despite how you knew you shouldn't.

"thank you, miss yelena." you whispered hoarsely, curling into her, allowing your heavy eyes to close.

that would be the first and last time you ever spent the night in her quarters.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

the banquet to celebrate the completion of the rail system in trost was minutes away from commencing. the speaking podium was empty for the moment, soldiers and civilians chattering amongst themselves as they waited for the military officials to gather at the stage. you were authorized to be in the private area as yelena's personal escort, seeing as she had participated in the mapping of the railroad through the district and would be acknowledged as a contributor to the advancement of paradis.

but as excited as you were to celebrate, eat good food and hopefully get a chance to drink, you weren't looking forward to transferring your position to floch forster for the remainder of the night. although, your desire to stay by yelena's side had been momentarily dissuaded by the desire to please her when she'd requested the change a few days prior. you hadn't bothered to hide your disappointment, nor did you hold back your questions.

"change to forster? but.. why?" you had asked, in the privacy of her quarters, feeling an immediate disheartening at her words.

she didn't directly respond, the hand that had been at your shoulder rising to pet at your cheek. "you trust me, don't you?"

"y-yes, but—"

"then file a request to change with him."

you couldn't explain why you had felt such a cool emptiness burrowing into your chest, a sudden spite for the other soldier beginning to fester in the back of your mind, the thought that she would choose him over you inspiring an indescribable irateness. you turned away from her hand, not thinking of how you were pouting like a child, unwilling to meet her eyes or compromise with her. you'd been fretting over how she hadn't spared you any sort of affection in the nearly two months that had passed, the fear that she'd grown tired of you an incessant whisper in your ear. but then she had reached for you, treated you gently, persuading with that hint of sincerity she rarely ever showed you.

"it would only be for the evening, i have business to attend to that night. i'm sure you've been looking forward to the celebration?" a frown tugged at your lips, only offering a small nod in reply, meeting her eyes when she guided you by your chin to face her. "then transfer with forster, have fun for the evening—you deserve it."

you couldn't help but preen under her praise, meeting her eyes, heart stuttering at the sight of her barely-there smile. you finally caved after a moment of thought, relenting to her wishes. "i'll put in a temporary transfer request tomorrow afternoon."

"thank you, dear."

despite how you weren't exactly looking forward to forster's arrival to relieve you from duty, those final words lifted your spirits just the slightest bit. perhaps she had simply been caught up in the stress of such a grand achievement, too busy attending meetings with engineers and generals and event staff to make any spare time for you for the past weeks. you had waited for weeks before, you could continue waiting if need be. you were at her beck and call, and as long as it pleased her, you were perfectly fine doing as such.

you let out a soft sigh at the sigh of floch forster approaching, weaving through the scattered crowd with a stoic, dutiful look plastered across his expression.

"good evening, floch." yelena said from beside you.

he replied with a polite good evening to both you and her, adding your name as more of an afterthought than anything, but turning his focus back to you when you still hadn't stepped away. "you can go, i'll take it from here."

your gaze flickered over to yelena, feeling yourself relax as she nodded to you, a hand resting at your shoulder to gently urge you forward. "i'll see you tomorrow morning. enjoy yourself tonight."

so you took your leave, watching the ceremony in the company of your fellow soldiers, eyes always wandering away from the speaker and to yelena at the side of the stage. the speech concluded, the crowd cheered and applauded, and everyone was directed to the banquet hall where the remainder of the event would be held. you watched yelena and floch walk off the stage with the other officials, becoming distracted for just a moment speaking to someone but having lost sight of them by the time you looked back.

you didn't see yelena for the remainder of the night, but you did as you were told, enjoying the good food, talking to your friends, avoiding any alcohol in preparation for your usual early morning. it was all over quite quickly, and the next morning came and went, business as usual for the remainder of the next few days—then came the news of eren jaeger's disappearance, then the plans of the all-hands-on-deck operation that was to be the retrieval effort for the young man, the entire scouting branch thrown into overdrive.

and, though you never mustered the courage to ask, you felt a sinking feeling deep inside, that yelena's nightly errand with floch and eren's absence were somehow connected, that there was much more going behind the scenes that you couldn't even begin to fathom.

just wanted to give u guys a little gift for my birthday (´･ᴗ･ ` )

#yelena #snk yelena #yelena x reader #yelena x reader smut #aot x reader #snk x reader #snk x y/n #snk x you #aot x you #aot x reader smut #snk x reader smut #yelena brainrot #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #shingeki no kyojin fanfiction

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darling-dummy-blogs · 3 years

Text

A Dummy's Heartbreak- Victor Li (PT 2)

Summary: Cassandra calls up Victor telling him that she misses him leaving Victor conflicted with his emotions. He decides to go over to her house to check on her. The two end up rekindling something as the night goes on…

Paring: Victor Li x Cassie (OC)

Genre: Angst (With a bit of Fluff)

Warnings: None!

Fandom: Mr. Love Queen's Choice

Word Count: 2.5k

Notes:

Will be mainly focusing around Victor's perspective

Will go into details about why and how they ended up breaking up.

Possible Part 3…?

Massive thanks to @little-butterfly-writes for helping with brainstorming ideas for the break up 💜 (Go follow her, if you haven't already~)

So sorry for the delay with this part! With everything taking place, it's been hard to focus and write when I've been anxious and emotional over the situation within the MLQC fandom. Hope you enjoy <3

“I Miss You. I Miss Us..."

Hearing those words made Victor’s heart leap within his chest. He had hoped and dreamed of hearing these words almost everyday after the break up.

Victor remained silent for quite some time, unsure of how to reply to her words. His light breathing was the only thing that could be heard over the phone.

"...V-Victor? Are you still there?" She spoke out once again to him, the nervous tremor in her voice could be heard.

He swallowed, trying to process the words and managed to clear his rapid thoughts as he replied in a soft, yet quiet tone.

"I'm still here…" Before adding the words he wished to speak to her that day she left Loveland, "I miss you too… More than anything. But why are you suddenly telling me this now? It's been four months, Cassie."

"I-I know… I know it's been a while since I spoke to you… I just… Today… I-..." She trailed off, growing rather quiet.

His eyes trailed off from his desk to look at the calendar. His eyes landed on the day in question. His gaze softened. A deep frown appeared on his face.

"...Our third year anniversary…" He finished for her, his voice coming out rather hoarse, the sadness he felt at that moment made his heart ache.

He could faintly hear her sobbing on the other end of the line.

"I-I'm sorry… I shouldn't have called you. I just… I had such a rough day today, I-I couldn't focus.. I-I couldn't do anything right…"

She took a moment to catch her breath before continuing, "A-and then I realized what today was and it all made sense as to why I was acting like this, why I couldn't stop thinking about you.. Why I… miss you…"

"Cassie…" His voice came out soft once again, hearing her cry, utterly broke his heart. "Breathe… It's okay…" He tried to soothe her.

"I'm right here.." He spoke again. "I'm here for you. You know that."

Hearing those words from him, made her sob more, only louder this time. She knew that. Of course she did. But it still hurts that he isn't physically there with her.

"Cassandra." He spoke again, this time slightly firmer than before. "Listen to me… Breathe… I know it hurts. Trust me, I know more than anyone that it hurts."

He paused, as his eyes landed on a picture frame that laid upon his desk, one that he refused to put away since he had last seen her.

The frame contained an image of Cassie's bright smiling face. A photo Victor snuck in while she wasn't looking during one of their dates.

Staring at that photo, made his vision gloss over with tears. She looked so beautiful in that image.

She always did in his eyes. But he could never forget the look on her face, on the day of their break up.

He spoke again, "But you are strong. You can get through this. I know you can…"

"...Not without you by my side, Victor…" She spoke in a solemn tone as she had managed to calm down her sobs, sniffling.

"I-I've tried everything to get you out of my head, but nothing worked. I drank wine, just to try to forget about all the memories we made. But you still won't stubbornly go away…" She let out a sad chuckle at the end.

Victor grew silent again. A single tear slipped down his face as he stared blankly down at his desk. Taking in her words.

At that moment. He knew what he needed to do. He swallowed, as he wiped away his tears, speaking in a firm yet serious tone.

"Where are you right now?"

"I-I'm at home… Why?" Confusion clearly shown within her words.

"I'm coming to see you. Right now." He stood from his chair, gathering his suit jacket and left his office immediately.

The drive from Loveland to Cassandra's hometown felt long however, it wasn't too long as Victor pulled into the driveway of Cassie's home.

The anticipation of seeing her once again after such a long departure, made his heart flutter. He took a moment as he parked his car, looking at the house in front of him.

The sun barely began to set as he stared for what seemed like an eternity before unbuckling his seatbelt and stepped out of his car. Smoothening his jacket as he made his way to the door. Hesitating before ringing the doorbell.

A few moments passed by and the door flew open. The two made eye contact. Both stared at each other with wide eyes as though they had never met before.

Victor took in her appearance. He could tell she looked tired; the dark circles under her eyes, followed by how red and puffy her eyes were from crying. He could see the tears that stained her cheeks.

Gosh how he hated being the reason that she was upset. He mentally scolded himself for hurting such a loving girl such as herself. For fighting with her over a matter that she was feeling insecure about four months ago.

At that time, he didn't know what he had done to himself. But when she walked out that door, with that look on her face. He knew he regretted everything he had said to her in that argument.

He blamed himself for the longest time for saying such things to her.

Days if not weeks after the break up he did nothing but drink his sorrows away, threw himself into work to occupy and fill in the hole that she once held. Giving everyone at LFG hell to keep his mind from thoughts of her.

Sleepless nights filled with him crying over her, a side he refused to let anyone see. He wouldn't even want to let her see him like that.

His emotions got the better of him then. But now, seeing her within arms reach.. He wanted nothing more but to hold her and wipe away her tears. To take away her pain…

His eyes filled with tears, but he remained calm. She stared at him quietly with tears in her eyes as well, yet she refused to say anything. Fearing if she did, he'd disappear or she'd start bawling her eyes out once more.

She took a deep shaky breath, speaking out to him

"Come in…"

She opened the door wider for him. Waiting as he silently stepped inside. She shut the door quietly behind him as she wiped at her eyes hastily.

Cassie then gestured to the couch once they were in the living room, sitting down in the exact spot she was sitting before she called him.

He sat down next to her. However after realizing how close he was he slightly scooted away to give her some space.

Both of them remained silent for far too long.

Cassie proceeded to break the ice as she spoke, bringing her legs up to her chest while looking at him, "Why are you here, Victor..?"

"...I had to see you." He spoke as he kept his gaze low to the ground.

"I still don't understand… Why though?"

"Because Cassie… I missed you. Just as much as you missed me. I wanted to see you in person because I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"...Well.. I'm not okay…"

"..." He looked up from the ground to meet her gaze. A tear slid down his face. "...And I'm sorry for being the reason as to why you aren't okay…" He looked down at the ground once again

She frowned at that statement. "Victor…"

"No. I know that I'm the reason. That's why we broke up to begin with. I-I was too harsh with you.. I always have been."

She looked away. Shaking her head as tears filled her eyes. "That isn't the reason we broke up."

"Then what is it?"

"...The reason we broke up was because I was mad and upset with you for what you told me that day. It wasn't that you were harsh with me… because you were far from that."

She looked at him, moving closer to him, hesitating a second before cupping his face within her hands, making him look at her.

"Y-You were an amazing lover. And I loved you so much.. And if I'm being completely honest with myself. I still do love you. I believe that I always will…"

Her hands lightly caressed his skin, he brought his hand up, resting it on top of hers as he stared into her eyes.

Her lips trembled as she continued speaking. Her eyes filled with fresh tears. "But we broke up because of the awful rumors and ideas about my relationship with you that were being spread by numerous people online, especially by Chik. The argument we had that night took part of it but it wasn't the full reason."

"I didn't want to ruin your reputation. And I didn't want others to tear me down… I was insecure and I didn't want to be selfish by continuing to be with you… to have you to myself... that's why I told you that night if you wanted to end it. Then we would..."

He removed her hands from his face, holding her hands within his own, frowning. "Cassandra, you weren't being selfish nor were you going to ruin my reputation. I can now understand why you chose to break up with me."

"I didn't care about what those people were saying online about you, me or our relationship. I never cared about others' opinions but my own… It has always been like that. That was until you came into my life. Your opinion mattered most to me… That's why that day when you told me you were insecure about those rumors, I brushed it off."

"...Because I would never believe their words about you, because I know you. And I love you more than anything in this world. I just wanted to be with you…"

She stared at him in shock. Tears glided down her face as she listened to his every word.

"In hindsight… I should have cared a little more, knowing that you are more vulnerable and easily hurt by others words than I am… That was my error and for that I am sorry…" Tears slipped down his face as he added, "I-I never wanted to lose you, the way that I did."

He let go of her hands, moving to wipe at her tears, resting his forehead against hers. "I still… want to be with you. That's all I've wanted since you left."

He admitted, gazing deeply into her eyes. She stared into his eyes, nearly getting lost in them as she was unsure of how to respond to his words.

She swallowed as her breath hitched when she realized how much closer he was to her, which made her cheeks flush bright red.

Victor took in her expression, his eyes trailing down her face, taking in every feature. His eyes then landed on her slightly parted lips.

He missed everything about her, but in this moment, he missed the soft touch of her lips against his …

He leaned in closer, all self control he had at that moment seemingly lost as their faces were just mere centimeters apart.

She swallowed as her heart fluttered. As much as her heart wanted this, her mind wouldn't allow it.

She turned her head away just as their lips were about to touch

"...We shouldn't.. As much as I want to, it's still painful…"

He frowned, as he pulled away gaining control of himself once again, he looked down. "...I'm sorry, I shouldn't have.. I don't know what came over me..."

"It's okay, really… It's just… Hard…"

"I know…"

An awkward silence took over the two of them. Neither of them knew what more to say to one another.

"I should probably get back to Loveland.." He spoke, standing up after a moment in their awkward silence.

She looked at him, her hand reaching out to his. "No! Stay… Please…"

He looked down at her hand that held onto his. Moving his hand to softly lace his fingers with hers, looking at her.

"Are you sure you want me to stay?"

She nodded, giving him a small smile. "Y-yeah… I could really use the company… I was just about to put on a movie to watch…"

The corners of his mouth lifted upwards as he let go of her hand, sitting down once again beside her. "Alright, I'll stay. What movie are you thinking of watching?"

She smiled wider as she moved to grab the remote to the TV. "Mm.. I'm not sure honestly… Hmm… How does Beauty and The Beast sound?"

He let out a chuckle, knowing how much she adored that movie. She always loved watching it with him in the time that they were together, "Still love that movie? Even after watching it countless times? I guess some things never change."

Victor lightly teased her, smiling more as she rolled her eyes, pouting playfully at him.

"Of course I do! It's my favorite movie of all time, no matter how many times I watch it, it will always be my favorite. Now are you going to watch it will me or not?"

He looked at her as he laughed softly. "I'll watch it with you."

"Great." She giggled, as she then found the movie, pressing play as the movie began playing. Victor then made himself more comfortable, seeing as he'll be there for quite some time.

However, not even halfway through the movie, Victor feels Cassandra's head rest against his shoulder.

He didn't realize that she made herself comfortable and had curled up at his side. He looked down at her, his gaze softening as he realized she fell asleep.

He smiled, letting out a soft chuckle. "As usual… You always tend to fall asleep at any given time…"

Victor then shifted his hands to wrap around her, as he stood up. Being cautious as to not wake her. He lifted her up into his arms.

Taking her up the stairs and into her bedroom, he gently set her down on the bed, tugging the covers up and over her, making sure she was fully tucked in. He gazed down at her, moving a few strands of hair away from her face. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

"Goodnight Cassie… I love you."

He whispered before standing up straighter, turning to leave.

However a small tug to his shirt sleeve, stopped him in his tracks. He turned back to look at her, her eyes opened as she gazed at him sleepily.

"Stay… Please…"

How could he say no to that? His heart skipped a beat as he nodded. Moving to lay beside her, wrapping his arms around her as she moved to curl up close to him, her eyes fluttering close as her head rested against his chest.

He gently moved his hand to gently stroke her hair, as he often did many nights when they were together. He let out another chuckle as he leaned in to whisper into her ear...

"I'll always be here to stay...Dummy…"

#mlqc #mlqc fanfic #mlqc victor #mlqc li zeyan #mr love victor #mr love queen's choice #mlqc angst #mlqc fluff #victor mlqc

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chusui00 · 3 years

Text

Not Meant To Be

Word Count: 3,750

Summary: Anthony became the center of your attention, and it seemed as though his feelings were mutual for you. But in light of recent events, he’d only be able to comfort you in more ways than one. With the help of a loyal friend, you have no doubts that Simon will regret leaving you.

Pairing(s): Anthony Bridgerton x reader, Simon Basset x reader

Part 3/6

a/n: Sorry for the incredibly long wait! I knew that editing takes time, but I didn’t think that I would have writer’s block for, well, however long I’ve had it. So much has happened, and I lost motivation after motivation. Although, it’s not entirely fair for those of you who want to read Bridgerton fanfic. Without further delays, here’s part 3!!

⋘ ──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──── ⋙

One might think that when he stood outside my home with roses, Viscount Bridgerton had finally set himself on the route to having a family of his own. The Viscount was welcomed by Charles and invited inside, which caused Mama to almost fall over her feet. “Lord Bridgerton! Heavens! What a pleasant surprise this beautiful afternoon to see you!”

It took a lot of willpower not to roll my eyes at mama's change of mood from just minutes earlier. Lady Bridgerton wrote to me her apologies, that were not even pertinent at all, and mama blamed me of humiliating the Bridgertons yesterday. Papa didn't make his typical remarks, but I knew what he had been pondering regarding my misdeeds.

Other than that, Lord Bridgerton told them his hellos, and when he saw me in the family room, his smiling face grew greater. “Miss Denbow, good afternoon. As it always is, you never cease to look so exquisite.” If I wasn't mistaken, I assumed he was intending to flirt with me, and undoubtedly fooled mama with whatever act he was putting on.

“Lord Bridgerton, how kind of you to give my daughter compliments after seeing what she did yesterday at the picnic. In this town, you and your family are truly the most genuine.” Mama was eager to speak in my place, and when she tried to bring up the incident for the second or third time, I swallowed thickly.

Anthony’s mouth twitched at the corners, and he stepped over to me in order to gift his bouquet of roses. “Lady Denbow, I do not blame Miss Denbow for anything. She was suffering and knew no other way to communicate.” Before he slipped back, his fingers lightly stroked both of my hands, then he sat in an empty chair.

Cheeky bastard. He was making light of my missteps, which Mama considered especially inexcusable. And for his compassion, I could not have been more forever thankful. “Oh, Lord Bridgerton, thank you. To hear you say that alleviates my anxiety. And thank you for these roses.” I ran over the smooth petals with my thumb, then bent closer to take in the fragrance of them.

But once again, with more berating remarks on my ‘unladylike’ and ‘outrageous’ nature, Mama ruined the temporary pleasant environment. “I can't understand why, my lord, you want to court her. She may be my only child, but I'm sure she would be a far better choice for another lord of her equals.” My own mother had a toxic tongue which might ostracize her if she didn't take caution of others.

In order to defend against the offensive expressions she was thinking about me, as if I weren't really there, I opened my mouth, but Anthony decided to stand up from his seat and settled next to me. “I'm going to say this as politely as I can, Lady Denbow. What Miss Denbow did at the picnic was not wrong, and she's a wonderfully capable young lady. You are her mother, and I must admit that what you have said makes me very mortified.”

With discomposure, Mama's face grew red and, at last, she remained at a loss for words. “Lord Bridgerton, my apologies. Forgive your mama, y/n. My intention was not to negatively impact you such a way. I'm worried you can't even defend yourself.” Excuse after excuse were all I heard coming from her, but I needed to leave this conversation in the past.

“Mama, I'm forgiving you. But please don't think of me like that. When you do not see that I am well aware of what I'm doing and what I believe is important, I am in despair. I'm no longer a little girl.” Mama nodded, but in sensitivity, she refused to speak as she left Anthony and I in the room alone. "Well, either that may well have gotten out of hand, or the way I hoped it would.”

A chuckle escapes from the Viscount, and I recline against the back of the sofa with a tired sigh. I loved my mama and papa, but sometimes they treated me like I would never age from my childhood years. Despite having no brothers or sisters, I had friends who supported me and shared the same interests as I grew older.

Having Lord Bridgerton here was an enigma that I couldn’t fathom, but I appreciated how he stood up for me when mama complained without cease. Now that she was gone, I took the opportunity to ask him as to why he came to my home. “Anthony, can you tell me the reason for your visit? We both know that you don’t have intentions to court me contrary to what outsiders might believe.” I crossed my arms and waited for a reply, which was his hand resting on the top of my thigh. Perplexed, I looked over at him to see his eyes full of sympathy.

“Y/n, what Hastings said could have been less severe than they actually were, and Daphne chastised him for doing so.” Anthony began, his grip squeezing in reassurance, and he gently pulled it away once I’ve had enough time to comprehend what he told me. It warmed my heart to hear that Daphne was upset in my stead, although I’m sure anyone in their right mind would have done the same for me.

My thoughts wandered to how both the eldest child and the Duke of Hastings were famous rakes with great influence. One had brothers who would take his title and estate if he were to pass, whereas the other had no known relatives and only Lady Danbury to defend his name after his death. I found it funny that I’ve fallen in love with the latter, and he was treating me like I didn’t have a place in his place.

I must’ve been worrying Anthony with my lack of response because he waved a hand in front of my face to bring me back into reality. I shook my head of the unrelated topic and smiled sheepishly at him. “I’m sorry. I became lost before I realized that I’d drifted off.” “Oh, it’s quite alright. Trust me, I do the exact same thing when I’m alone.”

“I’ll be impartial with you, Anthony. I hadn’t given it consideration that your sister would do such a thing, and for me, no less. Perhaps I’ve had the wrong impression of her from the beginning. Everything is going terribly, and I haven’t been able to think properly.” I wore my heart on my sleeve for him to see, and I didn’t care about exposing my weaknesses to him. But Anthony seemed be torn between hugging me and giving a simple pat on my shoulder lest an unwanted third party were to walk in.

If anyone noticed the unusual display of affection, then news would spread that rather than waiting to fulfill the courtship rituals, I was advancing on a lord. He wouldn't be much of a gentleman, in Anthony's opinion, if he were to neglect a woman in distress. “When you weep, I don't like it. It so pains me when I'm labelled useless, but when you're laughing, you look the most spectacular, y/n. Simon's blind and ludicrous, but I know you really love him, don't you?”

“You're right, my lord. Again. I need to let go of my struggles and to live my life to its fullest. The Duke encouraged what I would like to go do, become, and pursue, but under false premises, he is intimately involved to your younger sister.” I forced my body to stand, and in confusion, but without doubt, Anthony quickly followed. In my own house, it felt too stifling, so I concluded that a stroll outside would hopefully help take my mind off what occupied it at the moment.

“Is there anything other than whining and moaning that I could do instead? Wait, Queen Charlotte is holding a ball for her nephew, is she not? I do believe his name is Prince Friedrich.” Anthony gave a short nod, and I could tell that he was already dreading a night of being surrounded by desperate mamas along with their unabashed daughters. Who would blame the Viscount for trying to discourage total strangers from making unwelcome advantages?

I was unexpectedly given the best idea by his affirmation, and I couldn't wait to put it into motion. I wanted to prove my worth to Simon, which would make Anthony and the Prince the ideal partners to irk him. “What say you to opening Simon's eyes in the notion that I attract His Highness tonight? I will have to be in the most magnificent ballgown, and I know that you can help me with this.”

“In the heat of the moment, it won't take a lot of effort to raise feelings of inadequacy in Hastings. He will be fixated on Daphne and attempting to keep conversations with literally everyone who comes across him, but I don't find it unlikely that he will be observing you with the Prince. I know I wouldn't have the means to take my eyes off you, my dear.” That was just what I expected to hear from him, and furthermore. I felt that I had done well enough to seek a Viscount who had awareness of everyone else around him.

Then that settled it. I was going to win the Prince's favor, and Simon would spectate from the sidelines with no likelihood of attempting to snatch me away. It felt invigorating even to think about how it would play out tonight, but it would be seamless with Anthony's help. “For your time and soothing words, I am beyond delighted, Anthony. Until the ball, there is more than enough time, so I want to use it to aim for perfection. Tonight, I hope to see you, my lord.”

“Miss Denbow, I am forever happy to console a lady when she is enduring pain. And indeed, tonight, to my great reluctance, you will see me. For now, I will leave you and I look forward to enjoying your progress.” Anthony bowed as he started to walk out of the family room, and with a curtsey and a goodbye, I accompanied him to our front door.

Since then, hours have passed, and I finally found a dress from Lady Delacroix that was incredible. She wasn't even from France, and her accent didn't fool me. Not important. My makeup was done by Marianne, my hair was styled by Lucinda, and mama lent me her diamond necklace to wear. It matched the diamond earrings I got from papa on my eighteenth birthday, and tonight, nothing could go wrong. I was positive of that.

The time had come, and I was one of the few to arrive at the castle fashionably late. The eyes of all were on me, making my chest swell with pride. I got a glimpse of Simon and Daphne who were standing by the refreshments, and they couldn't stop watching as I elegantly walked down the stairwell.

To my amusement, Prince Friedrich was the first one to approach me, and he held my hand and placed a feather-light kiss on the back of it. “Good evening, my lady. You are by far the most beautiful and hypnotizing center of attraction in this ballroom. May I inquire for your name?”

I concealed the lower half of my face with a fan and smiled with my eyes, captivated by his mannerisms. “I have the luxury of being graced by your presence, your highness. My name is y/n Denbow.” After I've presented myself, Prince Friedrich's face lit up, and he guided me off the the last two steps. “To my ears, your name is like music, and it's perfect for a maiden like you, Miss Denbow.”

His flattery would make any young lady practically beg the Prince for a dance at the ball. Well, if he could ever tear himself away from me, that was. “Thank you, Your Majesty. You make me feel like I've got my head in the clouds. If you keep complimenting her, you will certainly find yourself a maiden to court this evening.” From my comment, I swore he blushed a bright red.

“Ah, hello, Prince Friedrich! Miss Denbow! I see that you have made friends with each other. Y/n, I'm so happy you've arrived safe and sound back in London.” Lady Danbury tapped her cane on the ground twice to emphasize her excitement, and I couldn't have been more relieved to see a familiar face among those whose names I couldn't match.

“I have so much to tell you, Lady Danbury. But not here, especially when I came so late.” I apologized to the Prince and wrapped my arm around Lady Danbury as we walked into a more private area. She furrowed her eyebrows together, but she didn't inquire until we got to the place where we could be alone. “Well, speak to me, y/n. What are you so worried about? And why did you come by yourself?”

I bit my lower lip and exhaled deeply, which all the more displeased Lady Danbury. If I tried to explain my desperate condition to her, she was going to have countless questions, and I knew she would never let Simon live in the humiliation he brought upon himself. “I'm sure you've recently read Lady Whistledown's column, and my relationship with Simon, Lady Danbury, is complicated.”

“Unbeknownst to me, when I was in France, he and Miss Bridgerton declared their engagement. He did not give me a letter or even a note when I returned to London that he had gone ahead with a marriage proposal to a young woman he had never met before. I invited him and the Bridgertons to have a picnic just yesterday. I have never been able to remain quiet forever; you know this, Lady Danbury. He lashed out at me, claiming that if he had known that I would be so self-centered and petty, he would never have gotten to know me.”

She went on a tangent as I predicted about how she raised and trained "the shameless rake" to do better than what he did. During the length of her grievances, I remained silent, then patted her arm softly when she started to run out of words to illustrate the Duke. “Compared to his late father, he's not terrible, but he might just be so after he treated you, y/n, and I apologize on his behalf.”

In disagreement, I shook my head, not acknowledging her apologies because she had nothing to do with that. In the sense of flirting with Prince Friedrich, all I wanted from her was to be an addition to humiliate Simon. “If we succeed, then he'll see the good thing that he lost because he agreed to marry another needy girl.”

This caused Lady Danbury to chuckle at my remark, and I had an inkling that her mood improved just a little bit. “I’ll take part in your schemes, girl. Now, let us return to the ball before we’re asked of our whereabouts.” She winked playfully, then gently pushed me back the way we came from.

Men and women danced to their heart’s content, their veins pumping with champagne and even the possibility that they will be courting after tonight. I see Anthony and Simon quietly bickering where no one could eavesdrop on the conversation, but their secrets weren’t going to be hidden from me. “Lord Bridgerton, I thought you promised me a dance?”

I chimed into the midst of their argument, and Simon’s mouth hung open in shock. He quickly closed it, though, and I bowed to him as acknowledgment for his presence. Anthony gathered the remnants of his dignity before offering a hand for me to take. “My apologies, Miss Denbow. I promise you that never slipped my mind from the moment that I asked.”

After the brief yet nerve wracking encounter with the Duke of Hastings, I’m led to have a dance with the Viscount and my new partner of schemes. I felt everyone’s eyes glued to us, which makes me uncomfortable because of the unwanted attention, but it dissolves when Anthony nudges me to look up at him. That’s when I knew how much I admired the man, and perhaps, there wasn’t any obstacle that we wouldn’t be able to overcome.

I may have lost my first love to Daphne, but I also had the power to pull the necessary strings to get what I wanted. Anthony tightened his grip on my waist then closed the gap between us, and out of the corner of my eye, I watched as Simon glare at our swaying figures amongst the others. The spectacle made me laugh softly against the Viscount’s shoulder, and his chest rumbled with a quiet laugh of his own.

“I believe that taught him a harsh lesson, don’t you think, Miss Denbow?” Anthony whispered into my ear, and an involuntary shiver ran down my spine. After clearing my throat, I nodded in agreement. The man wasn’t exactly reputable in every way, but he damn well had my respect. “Yes, it most certainly did, Lord Bridgerton.” I replied, head tilted downwards to avoid eye contact with him.

Once our dance came to an end, I was approached by Prince Friedrich a second time this evening. Young and older women alike flocked around his highness, and I took a small step closer to Anthony in fear that I would be ridiculed by them. Wait, what am I thinking? I shouldn’t be afraid of the people that make their bosoms unnaturally larger than they actually are nor should I be backing away!

“Miss Denbow, may I have this next dance? It’d make me extremely delighted.” Prince Friedrich asked, unknowingly breaking the tension growing between myself and the disappointed women behind him. All I gave him was a smile along with an enthusiastic nod, and Anthony released his arms from around my waist. “I’d love to, your highness. And I could say the same about myself.”

The prince took my hand just when the next song began to play, and we danced as if we were one. If I were being completely honest, he needed a little more practice with his feet, but I was enjoying myself nonetheless. We shared a few words and I kept glancing over our shoulders to see if Simon was keeping an eye on us. In fact, he had been watching the entire time, and Anthony gave me a signal that our plan had succeeded.

I bowed deeply to the prince when our dance came to its regrettable end, and bid him farewell for the rest of the night. Simon appeared out of nowhere then pulled me to an empty area despite my cries of protest. “What do you think you’re doing?! Just because you’re jealous does not give you the right to drag me as you so please, Hastings!”

“Will you keep it down, Y/N?! We both know that I’m not the only jealous one here.” He huffs angrily, and for the first time in a long time, he’s rendered me utterly speechless. No, I won’t play by his rules. Not when there was so much more for me to accomplish. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m simply fulfilling my role as a maiden who hopes to have a courtship.”

Simon rolled his eyes in disbelief, turning away from me so that I’m only staring at his broad shoulders. I’m beginning to lose my calm composure, and the more I stay alone with him, the less I’ll want to leave. He can’t learn of the nights when I suffered alone in France, and he certainly couldn’t force me to risk my reputation for his sake.

“You’ve changed, Simon.” My voice broke at the end of my sentence, but I continued to speak. “I’m not doing anything for you, so don’t get your hopes up.” He scoffed, not convinced by my words, and turned back to face me. His arms find their way around my body like they used to in the past. The next thing I knew, we’re kissing passionately against the cold marble walls.

He had me mewling his name over and over again, begging for a release that was on his fingertips. Simon muffled my sighs of pleasure with his mouth, and we fixed the bridge that was crumbling between the two of us. When we were satisfied, he muttered apology after apology as he kissed my skin. But we both knew that we run away with the position that he was in.

“I’ll figure it out, so wait for me. Please, Y/N.” “Don’t make me promise you, Simon. I want you to prove to me that I’m the only woman you love.” I kissed his neck and cheek, my heartbeat slowing to its normal pace before I fixed my dress. We’ve both been gone for too long, and I didn’t doubt that I would be questioned of my whereabouts.

Simon understood the weight of my words as well as what we would both face when we left separately. He kissed me one last time, and made his return to the ballroom until I did the same. Thankfully, neither Anthony or Mama asked where I had been, and I could breathe easy again. But now I was even more conflicted than before. I made Simon jealous, which ignited sex and doubt that we would be together after all this time.

Although... if I were to adjust my original plans in order for us to have a wedding and deal with the consequences afterwards, then it shouldn’t be very difficult, would it? Well, we would just need to face the challenges when the time comes, and I was determined to have Simon all to myself again.

#bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #simon basset #reader x simon basset #anthony bridgerton

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nonobadcat · 3 years

Text

Yandere All For One x F! Reader

Rating: Explicit - for readers 18+ only

Entire Story TW: Rape/Noncon/DubCon, gore (non-reader directed), All For one too many kinks to count them all. Highly mentally and sexually abusive relationship. This story is absolutely not for minors and readers should consult the warnings/tags at the top before reading.

Read the entire story at: Archive of Our Own

This chapter's TW: Dub-con fingering/oral/PnV, phone voyeurism, office kink, going commando, gaslighting, totally absent aftercare.

As soon as your period was light, your husband resumed his urine stick stalking behavior. Armed with exactly three tests, Shigaraki got on the phone to consult your OBGYN after her long weekend off. He told her about the anovulatory cycle and asked when next to try for a baby. Ever loyal to the man that saved her child’s life, the witch immediately threw you under the bus and informed him that the first day of bleeding would be about day one of the new cycle.

After the consult, your husband sat at the breakfast table with his cell phone, thumbing through the data.

“...and since you seem to have the twenty-eight-day cycle, our next best chances will be this weekend starting Friday.” He waved at the pink calendar in front of him.

You didn’t even look up as bowl by bowl you set his breakfast in front of him. Today’s menu was cold silken tofu, grilled fish, Niigata Koshihikari rice, and miso soup. Shigaraki had been advocating for hotel bread with jam but you compromised with sweet tamago. As the last dish appeared in front of him, he frowned and stared up at your thin-lipped expression.

“You don’t seem very excited,” he stated in a flat voice

You rolled your eyes up to look at him. “You don’t say.”

Shigaraki frowned and stared at you. “Oh?” His tone was harsh, almost pointed.

You dried your hands on your apron before untying the bow. As you went to take your seat, Shigaraki stood and pushed in your chair. His large fingers curled over the wooden back, grasping the varnished surface with tense pressure.

“My dear, that’s a very rude thing to say when your husband has gone to all this effort.”

The hackles on the back of your neck stood. You hunched your shoulders, eyes refusing to meet his. You placed your hands in your lap, letting them knot together and grip each other for comfort. “You’re just going to get overeager and hurt me again. It’s not something I really look forward to,” you murmured.

Silently, Shigaraki released the chair and set himself back in his seat. His meaty fingers found his chin and he cocked his head at your comment.

“Well, I suppose if you behave for the rest of this week, I would be willing to make an arrangement with you.”

You raised your head.

The blond lifted a single finger. “You can choose one of the positions we use on Saturday.”

You cringed. “One?” The hairs on your arms rose. You rubbed at your skin, trying to drive off the eerie feeling. “How many times were you planning on having sex on that day?”

There was a beaming, toothy smile in response.

You shot him lip curled a look of disgust and grabbed up your chopsticks. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

Shigaraki mimicked you and took up a bite of the sweet rolled eggs. “My dear, you know I don’t need to make a deal with you at all for this. I can just make you say yes to whatever I want instead. ”

You stopped eating, the rice hanging mere centimeters from your mouth. Instinctively, your hands flew to your neck, but, as promised, the collar wasn’t there.

Shigaraki twirled his finger in the air. “Now that I understand your body better, it’s a very simple matter for me to get your consent… eventually.” He rested his elbow on the table and shot your dusky bedroom eyes. “How long do you think you could last this time? You were pretty far gone after that hour and a half in the car.”

You slammed your hands down on the table and flew to your feet so fast the chair fell over backward. As it clattered to the floor you glowered at the man in front of you. Your head hung low as shadows fell in your eyes. “Don’t you understand this is the same problem as last time!” you hissed through gritted teeth.

Shigaraki crossed his legs and fanned his fingers together. “Quite the contrary, I’m planning on being quite gentle with you. After all, you enjoy it so much,” His crocodile grin widened. “Right, puppy ?”

You winced.

Shigaraki’s smile turned sour. “Where did this negative attitude of yours come from? It’s quite obnoxious.”

Where did the negative attitude come from Dar-ling? Oh nowhere really. After all, you got that bitch a breeding schedule. Bitches love breeding schedules. Really makes ‘em feel humanized.

“You’re the one who said you weren’t overly rushed…” You reached across your body and grasped your upper arm to still the angry tremors.

Shigaraki shook his head and rose to his feet. As his towering form came closer, it cast your body in shadow. You looked up and the annoyed grimace on his face made your heart skip. He crossed his arms and stared down his nose at you.

“This is for your own sake,” he stated firmly. “It’s abundantly clear you need a child to keep you occupied when I’m not here or your behavior becomes moody and self-destructive.”

You don’t know when your spine came back. Maybe it was after you’d successfully gotten him to delete the pictures. Maybe it was because he kept insisting he wanted you to do what you wanted. Maybe it was because you’d simply forgotten who you were talking to.

“What makes me moody and self-destructive is that you isolated me from everyone just to make me like you! Well news flash, Dar-ling! I did like you! I do like you!” Your open palm spayed across your chest. Fresh tears started to build in your eyes. “But you make it impossible when all you do is control me! You say you want me to be confident and then you step all over me. Are you so deaf that you just can’t hear what’s coming out of your mouth or are you so delusional you think ANYONE could be happy being trampled under you like this?! Why do you think your little brother ran away!?”

Whatever made you do it, it was a very poor life choice.

Read the rest at Archive of Our Own

By the way: I'm going through and adding those that have liked previous chapters and who have some confirmation in their bio that they are not a minor to the tag list. If you want off, please tell me.

If you want on you'll need your age in your bio or to send a comment/DM to me saying that you are 18 or older. I don't need/want your exact age, I just need you to confirm you aren't a minor in writing.

@shigashigashig @shig-a-shig-ah @weo0o @feral-creep @raygard-elvets @awkward-confused

@dokoni-mo

@the-lady-writes-what

@all4one

@avelaste

@diowithagun

@yeunsstuff

@river-to-swim-forever

@lizthewitchh

@0-ddball

@catalystgaming27

@cityscapingly

@imdatingyourdad

@gxmblinqueen

@villaincxmdump

@yandereloveraw

@seijohmilktea

#all for one x reader #all for one bnha #afo x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x reader #yandere x reader #yandere all for one #yandere all for one x reader #yandere afo #yandere afo x reader #female reader #reader insert #bnha yandere #mha yandere #you fic #afo bnha #all for one mha

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stargaze-issei · 4 years

Text

ᴅᴀʏ 𝟼; ғᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ʙʟᴏᴄᴋᴇʀ

-> tsukishima kei.

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭; same tattoo, shared dreams, soulmates!au.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; none.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭; 1.8k

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞; fluff.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞; the way i want to make a series out of everything in this challenge sigh.

↳ main masterlist

"what does it mean, tsukki?" yamaguchi asked by his side, looking with curiosity the needle leaving marks on his friend's skin.

tsukishima wanted to get a tattoo through his complete adolescence, his parents never allowed it, not until he could pay it by himself, at least. and there he was, eighteen years old, watching in amazement how one of his few dreams became true. being honest, he wasn't sure what it meant, but he had dreamed about those numbers a lot. since he was thirteen, the same number appeared not only in his dreams, but was everywhere else too, everytime he checked the hour, the number of his locker, even his volleyball shirt. of course it took him a while to figure it out, but once he saw it, he couldn't stop. it became his luck number.

"are you sure you just want that?" the artist wondered for the third time.

"yeah, it's important to me" the smile on tsukishima's face was completely different to all the others yamaguchi had seen since they knew each other.

*.✧☆ﾟ.*･｡✧*⊰⊹ฺ

"please, come see me play, you're always busy!" your friend, koganegawa, could be a pain in the ass if he wanted to. he could be one withouth wanting too. your job as an assistant teacher kept you occupied half of the day, add the hours at college and how much you had to study, to say it was hard to make room in your life was an understatement. which was why you never went to kogane's games after highschool.

"i told you i can't! i have... work"

"you don't work at nights, idiot! come see me play" he was so annoyingly persistent, that you had to accept, earning a excited hug from him.

after he left your appartment, only because you made him, you let yourself drop onto the couch, sighing. in fact, you were tired, but going to see kogane, one of your only friends, was something you could do. he was always so supportive, in his own unique way, it was the least you could do for him. you scratched your collarbone, unconciously going over your tattoo with your fingers, like checking if it was still there. somehow, that piece of inked skin gave you strengths when you felt like you were at your limit. the memory of a well known dream came to your mind, making you giggle.

*.✧☆ﾟ.*･｡✧*⊰⊹ฺ

you knew koganegawa's team was a professional team, but you never expected them to have a cheering squad, and local tv cameras and periodists focusing on them. it was your first time at the gym where they were playing, a little anxiety growing in your chest not knowing where to go. you tried calling him to help you, but all you got was a text saying he had sent somebody to your rescue.

"hi, are you kogane-kun's friend?" said a short blonde girl, touching your shoulder. she seemed really kind, making you feel more comfortable instantly.

you mumbled a positive respond, and she quickly grabbed your hand to take you to the bleachers like she knew the place by hand. she introduced herself as yachi hitoka, and said the game was about to start. she was also a friend of one of the players, but met some others, like koga, in highschool.

in the exact moment that you and yachi sat, the starting whistle blowed, starting with the power serve of a bleached haired guy.

yachi guide you through the game, explaining the basics to you, but you couldn't take your eyes off of the blond man with glasses, he looked so familiar, though you were sure it was the first time you saw him. he intrigued you, a lot. you were too shy to ask yachi for his name, hoping to catch it on through the speakers at some point, or trying to remember if kogane had said something about him. the game went on, points were made by everyone, and every single one the setter did, he looked at you, searching for a reassurance smile.

when it finished, a crushing victory from the frogs, you and your new friend went to wait for them outside of the compound, yachi felt the need to warn you before you met everyone.

"see, kyoutani can be a little... intense, some times, but he's really nice, and tsuk-"

"y/n! did you see me!? did you see my points!? we were so great!" she was interrupted by an overly excited koganegawa walking towards you, along with two ther blondes. your cheeks burned at the sight of whom you had glared so hard just minutes ago, wondering if he had noticed. his face was buried on his phone, too busy to look up, disappointing you a little.

"i saw you, dumbface, that's what i came to do" he pouted at your fake insult, proceeding to shout to kyoutani by his side how awesome you were for going to his game. you introduced yourself, one of they boys said to be kyoutani kentaro, the one of your interest didnt't even reply.

tsukishima had heard your voice many times before, but for the first time, he was awake. his eyes opened wide, a soft hum of confusion left his mout. it couldn't be you, you were just a made up person from his dreams, someone who he had never seen, less say heard talking, to recognize that fast. although it was you. those eyes, that voice, that hair, it was you. he had dreamed about you for so long, in his mind, at the beginning you were his same age, growing up as he did. you were exactly like that woman.

"...tsukki!" he came back to earth thanks to kogane, who was frenetically moving him from his shoulders trying to get his attention.

"get off" was all tsukishima answered.

"where's yamaguchi?" asked yachi. you didn't know what they were talking about, but you had witnessed the glasses boy, whom's name appears to be tsukki, go through a complete life crisis in the last minute.

"he's joining us at the restaurant" he said, starting to walk away by his own, followed by kyoutani and yachi, later by kogane pulling you from your arm to walk.

yachi and koga talked enough to fill the uncomfortable aire in the table once everybody ordered. a man named yamaguchi arrived a few minutes earlier, still in office clothes. he congratulated the guys on their victory and greeted you nicely, presenting himself as "tsukki's friend".

the minutes became hours, everyone, except you and tsukki, was drunk, even kyoutani had that red color on his cheeks because of the alcohol. yachi, who had stated that she was just a little tipsy, sober up when she saw how late it was.

"i have to work tomorrow! we all have to! oh go, i can't believe i let kogane- tsukishima, could you please take y/n home while i get these three an uber?" despite being so small, the girl seemed to be completely in charge of everything, probably because of her years as manager in highschool, you thought.

"are you sure you don't need help with them?" you asked, a bit curious about how was she going to handle two giants and a man with rabies by herself.

"don't worry, i've been doing this since highschool, i'm more worried about you arriving safe"

"i'll take her, you stay at yamaguchi's and text me when you're there" intervined tsukishima, he had been quiet most of the night, even though he couldn't look less interested in being there, he still refused to leave. sometimes, he would stare at you when you weren't paying attention, without knowing that you actually felt his look on you. the girl agreed to his proposal, kissing your cheek goodbye and giving her friend a small hug before you took your things and got out of the place, followed by the tall man.

the walk was silence after you told him you lived near enough to walk, him just nodding to your words. you didn't feel uncomfortable, though, and you wanted to believe neither did he. both of you were at a really short distance, and he didn't seem to care, but you smell of strawberry shortcake coming out of him. you giggled, thinking how funny it was that such an intimidating guy smelled like cake. tsukishima glared at you, disconcerted by your sudden laugh at no apparent reason.

"i used to go to this coffee house in highschool, they had the best strawberry cake i have ever eaten" your random fact caught tsukishima off guard, because he went to a coffee house with a really good strawberry cake since highschool too. he stayed silence, affraid to keep finding more shared details betweent the two of you. "i mean, don't think i talk about cake when- you smell like- i'm sorry" had you just made the situation hundred times worse? yes, you had.

the rest of the walk was as silent as the first half, now, tsukishima was uncomfortable, so much that you could tell, but still, he choose to stay close to you instead of making distance. despite being a autumn night, you felt hot, your multiples layers of clothing were now making you sweat. without giving it much thought, you took off your jacket and sweater, leaving at sight you tattoo in you collarbone. tsukki tried, he really did, to not look at you, stripping like it was nothing, so when he did, and saw his exact same tattoo in your body, he stopped walking. his jaw barely hit the floor, you could swear he saw a ghost.

"are you okay? d-do you...? what are you doing?" he got over his shocked, and in a light of boldness, he started to take off his coat and sweater, not only that, but lifting his shirt until you could see his nipple and ribs. it was then when you saw it too, your tatto, the exact same details, were on his skin, like it was printed of the same printer. you hadn't chose a design from an artist, you drew one on your own, wanting to be the only of its kind, yet, there you were.

like someone had opened a door in your mind, memories of lost dreams came back, you remembered from where tsukishima seemed so familiar. that damned dream you had for years, of him, who you thought was a creation from your subconscious, was now standing right in front of you, in flesh and bones. not you nor tsukishima knew how to react, maybe, fearing that the other would run away. a strange urge to cry invaded you, and for some reason, a intense desire to feel the blonde closer.

"i want to take you on a date, if that's okay with you"

"yes" you said not a second late, almost begging him to be with you from that day to your last.

"and i wanna kiss you right now" he didn't even let you answered before jumping to your lips, leaning a bit. you sighed in the middle of the kiss, relieved to feel him and his warm arms around you, your lips moving at synch.

his lips tasted like strawberry too.

⌙ 𝟐𝟎𝟎 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 🥳

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itmighthavebeenintentional · 3 years

Text

We've Got Tonight - Ch 4

Summary: “It’s not your job to do this, Andy. You make people happy. I was in the diner all of ten minutes, and you knew exactly how to get me to smile. You do normal, real things like garden and sing karaoke. Saving the world is my job, Sam’s job. Sometimes it’s even Cas’s job, but it’s not yours.”

Inspired by Bob Seger’s “We’ve Got Tonight”

Warnings: Major Character Death, More Major Character Deaths (sort of?), higher than show level violence, blood, light smutting, language, demons, apocalypse, inferred suicide, cult activity.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Author’s Note: This story is set hazily around season 8. Just squint a little, and it’ll settle in somewhere. I wrote this story after certain big revelations in the show, but before other big ones; you’ll most likely be able to tell which. I play with time a bit in the story itself, so if things seem out of order, they are. Hopefully, by the end, all the pieces will fit together.

What the hell, let’s give it a shot.

EXTRA WARNING: THIS CHAPTER IS THE SOURCE OF MOST OF THE WARNINGS FOR THE STORY. Please don't kill me. THIS IS NOT THE LAST CHAPTER, I PROMISE. It's not over yet. I can't promise you won't hate me when it's over, but I will not leave you here. There's more.

Image and major edits by the incomparable @there-must-be-a-lock . Heavy editing and cheering by @thoughtslikeaminefield . Thank you both so much.

In case you missed it: Chapter 3 ItMightHaveBeenintentional’s Masterlist

...

We’ve Got Tonight

Ch 4

Pre-dawn is too damn cold, she decides. She has to visually check that her fingers are actually doing up the buttons to her ragged denim jacket. She lost sensation in her hands a while back, and it’s the only way to make sure they’re actually doing their job. Her jacket is utterly unsuitable for the current temperature, but she doesn’t expect to need it for much longer.

Just before sunrise, Crowley told her.

The sky is already lightening on the horizon, the medium gray more obvious than she would have thought against the stark black, but, then, she’s never had much occasion to be out quite this late before. She’s usually done at the diner by six, singing at the club by ten, and in bed by two at the latest. She hopes Crowley is punctual. She can’t decide if the waiting or the cold is worse.

Except that, yes, she really can. The waiting is definitely worse.

The sound of shifting gravel pulls her out of her thoughts, and she turns to find the King of Hell himself smiling beatifically at her. She shivers, not bothering to search out the source of her discomfort, as she is rather spoiled for choice at the moment. She’s out in the freezing dark, about to hand over her life and soul to a demon because deranged cultists got it into their heads that they should use her blood to start an apocalypse (and who knew there was more than one of those outside of Sunnydale, seriously).

Shivering is probably the most rational reaction she’s had in a while.

“Hello, darling. Pleasant evening with the boys?”

He’s got more sass in one off-the cuff remark than she has in her entire history, and for a moment she can only marvel at the affected innocence in his expression. It's almost convincing. She opts to remain silent rather than take his bait. He smirks, the expression natural and only a touch derisive.

“No surprises, then? No sidekicks to save you at the last minute from the bad, bad demon?”

“I thought the torture didn’t start until after you kill me,” she sighs, hugging her arms tighter around herself, a futile attempt to ward off the chill. Maybe she’s got a little spark in her, after all. He laughs, a friendly, personable chuckle that would set anyone else at ease, reassure them of his honorable, benign intentions.

“Come on, Crowley, what's the hold up? I was here on time. Can we just get this over with already? I could have gotten one more round in with Dean if we were just going to stand around, shootin’ the breeze.”

Even watching for it, she can only just see the tick in Crowley's jaw, the slightest tension that betrays...something. She doesn't know what or why, but Crowley has more than a little unhealthy obsession with the elder Winchester brother, and she is pleased she managed to crack his veneer even for the briefest moment.

At least I don't have to worry about Dean, Andy thinks, relief creeping into the sea of dread that is her stomach. Her deal with Crowley was not only about stopping the apocalypse but also keeping Sam and Dean and even Castiel safe.

“Once you're gone, I won’t harm a hair on their precious heads, nor any other part of them,” he swore to her a mere eighteen hours earlier.

“I’m hurt you don't find my company more pleasant, love,” he murmurs, taking a couple of steps closer. He slides his hands in his coat pockets, the very picture of nonchalance. “I do try my best to be cordial, even congenial, after all. But since you’re so very uncomfortable, I suppose you won't object, then, that I took the liberty of inviting a few friends whose company you seem to prefer. What a lovely party we’ll have when they get here.”

As if he’s summoned them, a pair of lights appear in the distance, growing larger with every passing moment. Headlights, she realizes; a second later, she hears the distinctive roaring of a very particular car engine, and before she can turn back to Crowley, the Impala leaps out of the darkness, skidding across the hard-packed dirt road, coming to a halt bare inches from the demon’s impeccably shined shoes.

Andy stumbles back, choking in the cloud of dust the car kicks up, only to hit something solid. Impossibly strong fingers dig into her chin, lifting her face out and away as cold, thin metal is pressed to the side of her neck, and only now does she freeze.

“Let her go, Crowley,” Dean growls, his gun drawn and aimed even before he exits the car. “This isn't her fight, and you know it!” On the other side, Sam and Castiel climb out, Sam drawing his gun and moving to flank the demon.

“I do heartily protest, sir,” Crowley says, his tone mild and conversational. The blade digs in ever so slightly under her ear, and a thin trickle of warmth slides down her skin to soak into her collar. Dean doesn't flinch, but his eyes narrow, and he readjusts his aim.

“Not only is the lady at the epicenter of this fight, she's gone and made herself the brightest star in the show. Ask her yourself, if you don’t believe me.”

“How-” she manages through fear-numbed vocal cords. Dean should be unconscious, snoring blissfully away in his bed where she left him. She made sure to leave no sort of trail they could follow, and she checked that they were all asleep or otherwise occupied before she took off.

“I wasn’t asleep, Andy,” Dean replies, leveling his gun at Crowley. “And I’ve been tracking since I was seven. Gimme some credit.”

“I wouldn't do that, if I were you, Moose.” Crowley’s words freeze Sam in his tracks, and the blade on Andy’s neck digs in a little deeper. The flow of warmth down her neck widens just a touch. The sheer smugness in Crowley’s tone sets her teeth on edge, breaking through her stupor, and she grabs the hand with the knife, pulling at it with all her might. She, of course, doesn’t make a dent in the demonic strength, but she’s got to try something.

If you asked her later, Andy would swear to you that the searing pain that drags along her neck parallel to her jaw line right then is pure Hellfire. Deep down in the darkest recesses of her mind where all the worst truths lurk, she knows she’s feeling the bite from Crowley’s knife, but in that instant all she is aware of is the agony of the wound, of Dean’s enraged roar, and the juxtaposition of Crowley’s gentle touch pressing her own fingers to something hot and slippery under her jaw.

“Hold pressure there, sweetheart, or you’ll bleed out too soon. Wouldn’t want you to miss the finale.”

Her knees buckle, and she drops, but somehow she stays upright long enough to see Crowley’s demons approach out of the darkness. She tries to warn the boys, but time moves with a dreamlike lethargy that betrays every one of her good intentions, and, anyway, her voice doesn’t seem to be working at the moment. The roar of gunfire all around her sounds faint in comparison to the rushing in her ears, and she is powerless to stop Crowley’s plans from reaching fruition.

“You...said...you wouldn’t...”

“Well, pet, you aren’t dead yet, are you? I’ve got, what, at least another three minutes before you snuff it, by my count. Plenty of time to conclude my business with the Winchesters and their featherbrained friend before you expire.”

Though he was right behind her only a moment ago, Crowley appears abruptly next to Castiel, who at the moment is distracted by two lesser demons both wielding machetes. She realizes as she watches Cas easily fend them off that they, just like Andy, are only a distraction, only bait to tempt the bigger players to overextend themselves.

Too late, she sees the perfection of Crowley’s plan. In all the confusion, she loses track of Sam, and she wrenches her eyes away from Dean’s staggering form only to watch as the angel blade in Crowley’s hand bursts through Castiel’s chest. Then her gentle, confused friend is gone in a flash. The demons vanish, and she can’t find Sam or Dean, can’t reach them, can’t make her voice work to call out.

The quiet is wrong, so out of place after the violent cacophony. The roaring is gone, the gunfire silenced, and all that’s left is a terrible wheezing, gurgling sound that takes her too long to recognize as her own labored breathing.

“Crow...ley…”

“I’m here, darling. What do you need?”

“Lying...bastard…”

“Now, now, sweetheart, are those really what you want your last words to be?” He lifts her easily from the ground, carrying her the few yards to where Dean lies sprawled in the dusty gravel. His shirt is stained black in the retreating darkness, and Andy can only be thankful that she won’t make it to sunrise to see what exact shade of red is spreading over him. Dean’s far hand scrabbles on the ground, stopping its frantic search only when it finds his brother’s.

Sam’s still form doesn’t return his brother’s grip.

“After all, I’ve done you a favor; I didn’t have to give you the opportunity to say good-bye. I can’t promise you adjoining cells, but I’m sure your torture will coincide with his occasionally,” Crowley continues conversationally, “so, really, the two of you should be thanking me that you’ll at least get occasional visiting privileges. It pays to be on good terms with the king, after all. And, who knows? After a couple hundred years of good behavior, I might even be persuaded to-”

“Why?” It’s all she can manage as he lays her on the ground. Dean reaches for her with his free hand, and she is just able to find his fingers. Their eyes meet, but her vision is blurring as breathing gets tougher, and she can’t see what he’s mouthing to her. Even his eyes, such a luminescent green only hours ago, are fading into the remaining dark of the night.

“The Winchesters, dear, it’s always been about the Winchesters. Oh, the fanatics and their doomsday ritual were real enough, as was your blood. I just simply took advantage of the situation, as any intelligent monarch would do. Settled things with the apocalypse groupies, rid myself of some major pains in my rear, and now I get you, to boot! I do love when a plan comes together.”

Dean’s fingers tighten in hers, and she tries to grip his back, but the harder she holds on, the less she can feel him.

She’s not really feeling much of anything but cold now.

“Shut...up...already.”

“Always ungrateful in the end, even after everything I do for them,” Crowley grumbles from above her. But then he does shut up, and she finally feels something besides the cold.

Relief. ...

Chapter 5

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