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angelamajiki · 3 years

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PAIRINGS: Father! Yandere! Enji Todoroki x Daughter! Reader

CW: yandere, incest, soulmate AU, fluff, slight angst, nsfw, kissing, praise kink, virginity kink, size kink, bathroom sex

A BNHarem Collab!

AN: my longest piece to date! the prompt this month was sex work, so i decided to stretch the prompt and do sexual slavery. wanted to go for a softer version of daddy endeavor, so please enjoy <3

5.2k words

The mark on his wrist was one that was shared with yours. Enji had given up on finding his soulmate, deciding that his career and legacy were far more important than some silly marking on another’s body. Love was something he thought he could go without. But when he saw your bright eyes gaze up at him, your chubby hand wrapped around his index finger, his heart had fallen hard—such a sweet, gentle thing. No traces of fear, of disdain, of disgust for him as a human being. Just pure curiosity and unconditional love. His heart leaped for his little girl.

Enji was determined, then and there, that he would never fail you, not like he forgot the others.

Oh, what plans he had for you, his precious princess. He couldn’t wait to spoil you, to marry you and start a new family once you were old enough. Rei realized this as well. Her youngest daughter, her last hope at salvaging her broken family, was to be had by her husband. The thought frightened her, especially after seeing the adoring look in her husband's eyes when she saw him cradle you for the first time. It was so unlike the stoic nature he held for the other children when they were born, only caring to see that they were healthy before leaving off back to his agency, never giving them more than a fleeting touch. It was nothing like when he held you, snarling at any nurse who dared to take his soulmate from the grips of his arms.

Something that had Enji’s conviction more so than his career was something to be feared. Your mother swore to herself that she would not let her husband ruin you.

Once he fell asleep with you tucked in the crook of his arm, a social worker came and collected you to be sent to a foster home and be set up for adoption. It was better than falling into the hands of the monster of a husband.

After the death of Touya, the pair decided to have one more child in hopes of fixing their broken family, but Rei now knew it was for naught. Nothing could save them know, especially now that Enji had nearly burned the building down when he discovered that his little girl was gone, just hours after he had finally found you.

Rei alerted the commission as well for your protection, that utter bitch of a woman. They very well couldn't have the number two hero caught in an incestuous bond with his daughter, now could they. All information of your whereabouts was hidden from him, blacklisting him from working with any foster children, lest he loses his hero license. Enji may have lost you for the time being, but his patience grew as he did. They couldn't keep him from you forever. You'd be reunited one day; he knows it.

The first time he saw you again was when you were fifteen. It was your birthday and the day he had become the number one hero officially, plenty of reason to celebrate. Usually, he would have taken the time to sit near the rose bush he planted in your honor in his courtyard on your birthday, renewing his vows to find and love you to the best of his ability. Enji took great pride in keeping your memory alive with the bush for his beautiful little rose gone too soon from his grasp. But there you were, mere meters from him.

The foster home you stayed at took you out for dinner when he was meeting with Hawks after the billboard awards. Your eyes were unmistakable, a perfect cerulean just like his own. He was so close, yet so far. My, how you had grown since he saw you. Unlike him, you bore your mark proudly on your wrist, not ashamed to admit to the world who your soulmate was. Not like you actually knew who it was anyway.

Enji was prepared to leave Hawks at the table; a new flame lit under his ass, one far more exhilarating than the thought of being the number one hero. He was up and on his way to speak to you before Nomu attacked him. Damn villains, they'd pay for separating the two of you once again. But his conviction only grew stronger. It wasn’t hard to find you after that; he knew what city you were living in. Instincts lashed out at him, demanding that he go sweep you up and hide you away. No, no. That would make you frightened; he can't have that. He’ll watch from the sidelines, waiting until you were of age to make a move. He was curious to see just how life as a foster child was treating you.

Growing up in the foster system had been a nightmare from hell for you. A cursed child is what they saw you as when your skin sprouted flames every time it was touched by the human hand, burning everything and everyone who came in contact with it. From the moment your quirk manifested, you were an outcast, an untouchable, unlovable freak. Someone destined never to feel the touch of their new parents, their lover, their soulmate.

It wasn't long before you realized that you would remain in the foster system until you aged out. Who would adopt a child they couldn't hug when they cried, hold their hand when they crossed the street, snuggle up to when it was chilly outside? Any potential parent was taken aback by your quirk once you reached for the warm touch of mommy and daddy, only to singe their hand or burn a hole in their shirt.

You learned quickly that your touch was something to be feared, that you were something to be feared. You supposed that’s why you looked up to him so much. So much so that you thought about him late at night when the loneliness seemed to drown you in the sea of your insecurities.

Endeavor was the only one who could understand you, understand your quirk. If only your soulmate mark could match him, maybe you feel the warmth of another human being without hurting or mauling them with your power. Abrasive he may be with the media, but there something about him that was so comforting and endearing to you. In your eyes, he was simply misunderstood, a gentle giant amongst the mass personalities of the other pro heroes.

Watching his interviews brought you comfort when you were lonely, his merchandise made you swell with pride and confidence, and his posters on the wall reminded you that you were never alone. It was a silly crush, but it made you feel better about your miserable life.

You even got to see him on your birthday! Well, not exactly. You happened to be in the same restaurant when your foster parents took you out for your birthday. It was apparent that they just felt bad for you, having looked after you for 15 years only to still have custody of your sorry ass. You were almost certain that they were going to kick you to the curb the morning of your 18th birthday.

Too bad they never had the chance. That fate would have been much kinder than the reality you faced now.

Once the Paranormal Liberation Front had effectively ripped society up by the roots and let the tree of life rot for the world to see, your foster parents packed their shit and left the country while you were at school. You’d been alone in the world ever since and were snatched off the streets, ready to be sold into slavery by the villains of the world. Your quirk was the only thing keeping you from being bought like a bitch from the auction floor.

Enji, on the other hand, was more than eager to do just that. After his public smear campaign by his allegedly dead son, he was dead to the world, finally abandoning his family for good in hopes of finding his beloved daughter. His life was dedicated to searching for you, having managed to track you down through his vigilante work. He likes to lie to himself and say that he’s continuing to fight for the greater good, but Enji does it just to have the chance to see your sweet face again. There wasn’t much to go off of, but he’d rather see his fiery end than to give up. That's how he found you at the auction.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Another auction night was approaching, which meant another night of humiliation and being displayed like a slab of meat for a crowd of degenerate wolves. Your quirk was the only thing keeping you from being sold; no one wants a fucktoy they can’t touch. It reduced you to physical labor for your captors, but you were better fed because of it. That didn’t mean they still didn’t try to sell you.

After being stripped down into nothing but a collar, leash, and a muzzle, you were brought to the stage and shoved in front of the ravenous, roaring crowd. You could feel their stares seep into your bones, the grime from the floor on your bare feet only adding to the overwhelming sensation of disgust you couldn’t even begin to describe.

The crowd’s excitement was raucous, jeers and shouts echoing off the halls of the underground auditorium. Masks covered their faces for the sake of privacy lest a vigilante break-in and hunt them all down. Even in the lawlessness of the world, heroes were still crawling everywhere to trail after even the slightest scent of villainy. Doesn't mean they’ll win, but hey, the death of a hero is just the same as the auction was to them.

“Up next, a darling girl with a fiery quirk!”

That was your cue. A handler had a fierce grip on your leash, giving it a few tugs for good measure as the crowd laughed at your stumbling. The auctioneer began to list your qualities and physical attributes, including your quirk.

“And she’s a virgin!”

Added for good measure, the crowd fell silent after listening to the abilities of your quirk. You couldn't hate it anymore; it's what was keeping you from being someone’s onahole until the day you kicked the bucket.

“Can I get $10,000?”

Ah the starting bid. The silence was relieving. Just a few more moments and you'd be off that damn stage.

“No? Going once, going twice, going-”

“One million.”

A booming voice came from the back row, the depths of the shadows to further hide the masked man who just bought your life. Why did it sound so familiar?

“Outstanding! One million dollars for the young lady!”

“Going once.”

It couldn't be.

“Going twice.”

This can't be happening.

“Sold for one million!”

No!

You were supposed to be unwanted, just like you have been your entire life! Yet some mysteriously familiar man outbid the entire auction for little ol’ you.

“Off the stage, bitch.”

The handler snarled, yanking you off the stage and causing you the fall and bruise yourself in the process.

“Watch it!” He spat, picking you up by the roots of your hair. “The merchandise needs to be handled carefully before reaching the customer. Let's hope he doesn't mind some bumps and bruises. For your sake.”

“That won't be necessary; I'll be taking her as is. Immediately, if you will.”

The mysterious man stood had already made his way backstage and behind you, standing formidably over your stark form. Your hair was released, dropping you back to the floor.

“Excellent, sir! I’m more than happy to get this welp off my hands.”

A brief exchange was made while you recovered on the floor, shaking in fear as the situation weighed heavily on your already broken self. The handler took the money and returned to the back room, leaving the two of you alone together.

The stranger crouched down to you and extended a hand to brush the stray hair out of your face, touch remaining tender and gentle when you flinched harshly.

“My poor girl, what has the world done to you?”

His coat enveloped your body as he scooped you up in his arms. The scent of him comforted you more than you would have liked to admit. Teakwood and coffee grounds filled your senses as he held you flush against his chest, leaving the auction house with a renewed sense of vigor.

You were placed in the backseat of a car before he dressed you in simple pajamas.

“Rest. You deserve it.”

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

At some point in the car ride, you let yourself fall asleep only to wake up in a cozy king-size bed wrapped up in a soft blanket next to a warm fireplace. The false sense of comfort lulled you for a few moments before your situation hit you like a ton of bricks. The anxiety you'd had known your whole life had finally kicked back into gear, forcing you out of bed and into the rest of the house.

It was daybreak, the sunlight slowly trickling in through heavily curtained windows as you walked through the halls and into the kitchen. The man was standing over the stove, sans mask, dressed in a wife-beater and his pajama bottoms. It couldn't be-

“Come in; breakfast will be on the table in a moment.”

Now you were certain.

“Who are you?” Your voice barely above a whisper. “Why did you buy me at the auction?”

A deep, rumbling chuckle flowed from the man.

“I think you know the answer to that, little one.”

His focus was retained on the meal in front of him. “I’ll explain myself over breakfast. Now sit.”

You couldn't help but feel compelled to obey him. While sitting, you took the time to honestly look him over for the first time in your life. Never did you think you would be so close to your childhood crush in such a domestic setting.

He had noticeably greyed but still possessed a majority of his red hair. Muscles were still taught and budging, but he had grown a little bit of a belly. Endeavor was as handsome as ever, aged like a fine wine that you couldn't wait to sip on.

The food was placed in front of you as he took the test next to you.

“Eat and have some water. Then we’ll talk.”

Once again, you obeyed him without question and refrained from eating like a rabid animal. It wasn't even a question, so much so that it is evident that you hadn't had a decent meal in a long time. You were still muscular from the labor you did for your handlers, though.

And Enji liked that about you. How resilient you were, he loved that you inherited his strength but still possessed Rei’s gentle nature. Not that he wanted to credit that woman for anything, but he couldn't deny the obvious. You were his strong, beautiful little girl who had to endure so much because his bitch of a wife decided to separate you from him.

But he was here now, ready to give all his love and protection to his only love. It took everything in his power not to swoop you up from your seat and hold you in his arms until his last breath.

Enji watched you eat, pride swelling in his chest at the thought that you liked his cooking. He couldn't help but wonder what your favorite meals were as well. There's certainly all the time in the world to get to know his little girl now that he had you. And he was never going to let you go.

Your breakfast was devoured quickly, both out of desperation for a real meal and answers to your questions.

“Why did you buy me from the auction?”

It was a complicated question, but you wanted a simple answer.

“I’m your soulmate.” His wrist was on display as he reached across the table to hold your hand.

For the first time in your life, you felt safe. Your one, shining hope was meant to yours and he wanted to be yours. You didn't even question how he knew at all.

His touch was warm and slightly rough, but it was welcome all the same. Even though your skin was lit aflame at his flesh against your, he paid it no mind. He was built to take your quirk, to take you.

“Endeavor…”

“Please, call me Enji.” His thumb rubbed over the palm of your hand. “I’m sure you feel better after having something to eat.”

“Why don't you go take a bath? It’ll help you relax, I can take care of your dishes.”

It was strange how insistent he was on taking care of you, but you can't say you don't enjoy the attention. He seemed to care for you in a way that went beyond caring for a partner, or in your case, a soulmate. But who were you to judge? It wasn't like you had a lot of experiences to use as a comparison.

Making your way back to the bedroom, you took the time to study the house you were in. A traditional, well-kept home, it practically looked like it was untouched. And maybe it was; buildings and homes fully intact were hard to come by these days, let alone ones that were clean and warm.

Enji seemed to lull you into an instinctual sense of safety, even though he bought you out of slavery. Just because he was your soulmate didn't mean that he had good intentions for you, but somehow, his presence alone filled a void in your heart that you had forgotten was even there.

Once you made it to the bathroom connected to the master bedroom, you drew yourself a bath just like Enji had instructed you to do. It wasn't the wisest decision to let your guard down like this, but the man already had plenty of opportunities to fuck you up by this point.

The water was warm and inviting when you sank yourself into it; you couldn't remember the last time you had warm water to clean yourself with. It made you feel light and hazy, slipping into a headspace you had long forgotten—a place of safety and comfort.

Three raps on the door pulled you from your haze as Enji entered the bathroom with fresh towels. Despite the fact that he had already seen you naked, the intimacy of the situation only left you feeling more vulnerable than ever.

“Let me help you.”

He kneeled next to you outside of the tub and pulled a lavender chamomile shampoo from the tub’s shelf. There was room to protest, but you couldn't find yourself willing to do so.

Water was poured over your head before he started a lather in your hair, gently scrubbing your scalp for a while. Even this simple touch made you shudder, it was a long time since you last felt the warmth of someone’s touch. And everything about this man was warm, for you at least. His words, his touch, his heart.

Conditioner was added to your hair as well before he moved onto washing your body. The scrub was gentle across your skin, his hand following after it to help keep the suds from rising too much. Strong hands massaged your back and your neck, both of which needed the much-deserved relief.

“So tense.” He murmured, mostly to himself.

There was a comfortable silence shared between the two of you as he massaged out all the knots and kinks that had built up over the years with your handlers. His touch should have made you flinch but you found yourself pressing into it. A small moan escaped your lips as he worked through a particularly tender spot on your neck.

“Are you enjoying this?”

His lips ghosted your ear as warm breath tickled your cheek and neck.

Your face flushed with a fiery warmth from a combination of the steam, your embarrassment, and the man whispering sweet nothings in your ear as his hands worked at your tired skin.

“Let me help you relax, sweet thing.”

Enji picked you up momentarily to slot himself behind you in the tub. Placed on his lap, you gasped when you could feel his erection hard against your back. Fear started to trickle into your veins as you squirmed slightly, attempting to get out of his grasp.

“Shhh, it's alright, you're okay.” His hand made its way to your throat and rested there gently, stroking over your artery with his thumb. “I’m not going to hurt you, sweetheart. Let me show you how much I've missed you.”

His touch made you feel alive, feel wanted for the first time in your life. You couldn't help but whine when his other hand made its way down your body, gently groping your breast as his lips were pressed to your ear.

“Do you trust me to take care of you?”

His fingers toyed with your nipples, obviously skilled.

“Do you trust me to make the sweetest love to you?”

Another whine caught in your throat as his hand went further, cupping your sex in his much larger hand. He kneaded gently, pressing a soft kiss to your temple when you writhed in his grip.

“Please! Enji-”

Shushing you gently, Enji’s thumb made its way to your clit to stroke in small circles.

“How does that feel, sweetheart?”

You were used to touching yourself, but oh God it never felt like this.

“Good!” You managed to choke out in a wanton moan. “So good! Enji, please, I need-”

A warm pair of lips sealed over yours, silencing you once again. Enji knew how wrong this was, to take advantage of you like this without revealing the truth. But he wanted at least to just once to have you in his arms willingly and eagerly. He wanted to kiss you breathless, listen to your cries and feel your nails dig into his skin as he gave you all of himself without a fight from you. He can worry about revealing himself to you later.

The rough pads of his large fingers started to apply pressure to your clit as his middle finger slipped into your tight hole under the water.

“Don't worry, little one. I'll give you what you need.”

Soft kisses were trailed along your cheek and hand that was on his that was still holding your throat tenderly. Finger pumping in and out of you, Enji whispered sweet praises to you as he felt your hole clench around him.

“Doing so well for me, sweetheart.”

Your breathy moans and whines only served to harden his cock. He felt like a teenager all over again, closing to cumming just from the sound of your voice.

Another finger slipped into your tight core, careful not to overwhelm you too fast. It was obvious you'd hadn't been touched before, not even by yourself. You felt full but greedy for more of his touch.

“Deeper, Enji! Please, can you?”

You were babbling at this point, writhing in his lap as he fingered you nice and slow with thick digits. Enji hummed as he pressed further into, curling his fingers into your G-spot.

Your cry was loud as he began to abuse your most sensitive spot, fully squirming in his arms as tears of pleasure breached your eyes. The sensation was too overpowering for you, making you thrash and arch in his arms.

“Shh, you're okay, sweetheart. You're okay; I'm right here.”

His fingers continued to stroke in a curled fashion, thumb still circling over your twitching clit. Enji kissed you again, deeper and more fierce as he began to fuck you earnestly with his fingers.

“Cum for me, darling.”

Squealing, you gripped his forearm and cried helplessly into his mouth. The build was slow and intense, allowing your orgasm to wash over you in waves of pleasure rather than a blinding, quick light.

“E-Enji!” You wailed. “Enji!”

You shook in his arms, holding onto the larger man for dear life as you experienced your first orgasm. It seemed like Enji knew your body better than you did.

No words were exchanged between the pair of you, but you could feel the tension of your desired hanging thick in the air. This man was going to take your virginity, here and now.

Enji removed his hand from your throat and between your legs in order to maneuver you to sit facing forward in his lap.

“Are you ready for me?”

His honesty made you flush even more. Biting your lip nervously, you hesitated to answer. Were you ready? It wasn’t like you had much of choice; the man could very well take you by force if he so chose to. But you felt safe in his arms, safe with him.

“Let me help you, my love.”

Warm, large hands gripped your backside as he held you steady above his cock. Your hand reached down to line yourself up with his throbbing sex, lowering yourself down on it slowly.

It burned in the best way, stretching you out fully as you pressed your forehead against his chin.

“Good girl, taking my cock so well, darling.”

A pitiful whine left your throat at the praise, hands gripping the forearms that held you in place.

“Can...Can you hold me?” You whimpered. “Please?”

Enji’s arms enveloped you and pulled you flush against his, tucking your head into the crook of his neck as you continued to lower yourself onto his cock. Your breath tickled his ears, making him groan lowly once he bottomed out inside of you.

“Such a sweet girl you are, taking all of me on your first try.”

Another whine responded for you as you ground your hips down on his.

“E-Enji.” You whimpered his name over and over again like a prayer. “Enji!”

“Be still, little one.” Hands back on your hips, holding you in place near the tip of his girthy length. “Let me take care of you.”

Hips in place, the man began to thrust up into you slowly, holding you tight as he stood up from the water. You only gripped and nuzzled yourself into him further, letting out sweet whines and whimpers into his ear while he thrust into you.

Your back was placed against the cool tile of the wall when he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze. Even in this position, he was still at least another head taller than you.

“Look at me when I make love to you.”

Through wet eyelashes, you gazed up at his eyes and let your mouth hang open as he rolled his hips into yours. His eyes shut briefly when he moaned, hissing at the feeling of your wet cunt hugging his cock so well.

“You were made to take my cock, little one.”

Arms reached up to wrap around his neck as he thrust into you, taking his time to make his strokes slow and deep. His hips were flush against yours when you asked him, “Kiss me, please? I want all of you Enji.”

Your bold proclamation stunned him for a moment before yielding, placing a deep kiss and a hot tongue against your lips.

His thrusts became faster as he kissed you with more passion and vitality. For an old man, he certainly had his stamina up to par. Your fingers thread through his red and grey tresses, tugging him closer to you gently as you moaned shamelessly into his mouth.

The pleasure in your core was more intense, fiercer this time around as his thrusts became hard and fast. The sounds of both of your moans and skin slapping against skin echoed off the tiled bathroom walls as the both of you felt your orgasms coming.

“Enji, fuck!” You whined, beginning to squirt on his fast-paced cock. “I-I’m cumming; I’m cumming!”

“Cum for me, princess.”

With a choked sob, you creamed yourself all over his cock, which continued to pound into your hole before he groaned your name and came deep inside you.

Nothing but the sounds of the water sloshing and your labored breathing could be heard as you both came down from your highs.

After a moment of rest, Enji pulled out and wrapped you in a towel before laying you gently on the bed. A towel was wrapped around his own waist as he looked at you fondly, brushing stray hairs out of your eye sight as he sat next to you on the bed.

“I must ask, how did you end up at the auction site?”

What a loaded question, but the intimacy you two shared allowed for it.

“I was kidnapped off the streets after my parents abandoned me when the prison break happened.”

He sighed gruffly and took your hand in his.

“What utter fools, tossing aside a beautiful rose such as yourself.”

His thumb traced over your soulmate mark. You still had yet to know how he knew before ever meeting you.

“It's alright; I never considered them my family. I just wish I could have met mine, but at least I met my soulmate.”

A crinkled smile adorned his face.

“You've done more than meet them.”

What could that have meant?

“I’m your father and your soulmate, little one.”

A rock hit the pit of your stomach as you retracted your hand from his.

“That isn't a funny joke, I'm serious.”

“So am I.” His hand was quick to snatch your back. “What could I possibly gain from lying to you?”

“P-Prove it.”

“Our soulmate marks, I saw yours the moment you were born in the Hosu hospital before my wife separated us all those years ago. I can recite your birthday if you'd like me to, for good measure.”

Fuck, he really wasn't lying. A lump formed in your throat as tears sprung in your eyes.

“Why would you do this to me?” You whispered, barely even able to hear yourself.

“Because I love you. I love you so much, sweetheart. Ever since I saw you for the first time in the hospital, my entire life has changed because of you. All I ever wanted was you.”

Enji was quick to shush your cries, using his free hand to wipe your tears away.

“Will you forgive me for being selfish?”

The disgust and horror filled everyone of your senses, especially when you came to a realization that he was everything you've ever wanted.

What came out of your mouth next stunned the both of you.

“You can apologize by begging on your knees and cleaning me up with your tongue, Daddy.”

TAGLIST: @tomurasprincess @bonesoftheimpala @sightoru @cxnicalsweetheart

#yandere endeavor #yandere endeavor x reader #endeavor x reader #endeavor #enji todoroki x reader #yandere enji x reader #yandere enji todoroki #yandere enji todoroki x reader #yandere my hero academia #my hero academia #my hero academy fanfiction #my hero x reader #yandere boku no hero academia

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teklarn · 3 years

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hi, this is my first ever ask so I'm not sure I'm doing this correctly, if that's the case I'm sorry; I don't know how tumblr works just yet >:')

would it be possible for you to write something about bakugo, pining incredibly hard for fem!reader and initially hating how strongly he feels about her? because they're not even friends, they only exchange few words occasionally and she doesn't even glance at his way whereas he slowly finds himself unable to divert his eyes from her during classes? shes always with damn deku and his friends and doesn't even seem interested in him at all but his heart can't ignore the way she looks at him proudly whenever they spar together, the way she sends him small confident smiles as they fight each other with all they have; so he thinks that maybe, maybe he might have a chance. basically bakugo liking reader so much he's completely lost in self-hatred because he always thought feelings were for weak romantics and not great people like him, but everytime he sees reader doing some badass things (again, like sparring with him and basically matching his skills etc...) he's reminded of how badly he likes reader? but when he finally accepts he's fallen for reader, after ignoring and trying to forget about how she makes him feel, he masters up the courage to confess? and it's a very clumsy confession because he's awkward and has no idea how to deal with those feelings? and he tries so hard to make reader realise he's never been more serious than now? and reader is startled and speechless before rejecting him? and at that point he's just completely humiliated, so he nods and walks away.

it might be a little dramatic but I've always been into unrequited love and one-sided pining. thank you, its okay if you don't want to write about this, i'll understand <33

𝓫𝓻𝓾𝓽𝓪𝓵 - 𝓴. 𝓫𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓰𝓸𝓾

character(s): katsuki bakugou x fem!reader (my hero academia)

reblogs are greatly appreciated!

a/n: AHHHHH this is so cute <33 honestly this is super exciting for me and this ask made me so happy, lovey. i’m fairly new to tumblr, i’m usually just a reader but i wanted to migrate here from wattpad so this made me so happy. here u are my love <33 i hope this lives up to what u wanted !! :)) a bit lengthy, but i had a lot of fun writing it !!!

summary: bakugou finds he’s rejecting his feelings for you in fear of becoming weak, however he just can’t seem to ignore you.

genre: fluffy, fluffier than the clouds istg, however the clouds are sprinking a little teeny weeny droplet of angst.

warnings: cursing (bakugou, duhh), one-sided pining (on bakugou’s part) second hand embarrassment (on bakugou’s part bc we can all agree he’s a complete idiot when it comes to trying to get someone’s attention), just bakugou being a jackass, i gave the reader a quirk

word count: 3,859

(pls excuse any typos or mistakes, i edited to the best of my ability but i miss some things sometimes !)

- - -

part 2 is here my loves <3

brutal. it was utterly ruthless. he couldn’t focus, couldn’t think right. his hands were already exceptionally sweaty, but gosh when he saw your damn face, he was ready to explode. literally.

what the hell was it about you? was it your stupid smile? or the way you just seemed to carry every battle on your back? was it all the undeniably sweet things you do for others ‘just because’?

it made him angry that he thought about you, but gosh he couldn’t wait to see you every day.

just like any other day, bakugou found himself staring at the large door to the classroom, awaiting the moment you would bounce into his day, skirt shifting around your legs, bag slung loosely around your shoulders.

his leg was bouncing eagerly.

bakugou didn’t know when the feelings came. his cheeks just started flaring up all of a sudden and one day you just looked...different. you hadn’t done anything different to yourself. it was just him. not that he would ever admit that, to you or anybody else.

you were insufferable. you were stupid and obnoxious and so...so damn...

“y/n! come look at this!”

you’d come walking into class just as expected, and as soon as you did, that stupid nerd had called you over.

it didn’t help that deku sat right behind him, either. the two of you had recently gotten closer. bakugou noticed it last month when he yelled at the two of you to shut up about all might and get to work. he’d turned around to find you leaning over deku, hands resting on his shoulders while you peered at his phone.

“sorry, bakugou,” you’d said, barely acknowledging him. you had waved him off like an annoying fly. is that all you were to him? some nuisance that got in the way of your oh-so-entertaining conversations with deku?

all he heard nearly every day was your chipper voice talking to deku. always, “oh my gosh, midoriya, did you see the fight edgeshot was in last night?” or “midoriya! i have something to add to our quirk analysis book!”

that was the one that took the cake. you two dorks shared a notebook, occasionally passed between one another, and filled it with junk about quirks and pro heroes. but no matter how much he tried to tune you out, no matter how he tried to zone off and think about something else, you were always there. it made him want to vomit how much he thought about you.

you were doing an adorable shuffle over to midoriya’s desk and leaned over the table as you usually did while he angled his phone your way. “did you see this hero report?”

deku let you slip the phone out of his grasp to get a better look.

“no,” you breathed. “was this just recent?”

“yeah,” deku said, taking the phone back. “last night.”

“holy—”

“can you guys shut up over there?” bakugou said, his voice quaking.

“sorry, kacchan.” deku scrolled through the article.

dammit, bakugou thought. “i wasn’t talking to you, nerd. i was talking to shitface over here.” he jerked his head towards you. his eyes flared in anger when he saw you were looking down at your phone, now focused in on the article yourself. “i was talking to you, asshat!”

your eyes flicked up to his. you looked around for a moment before slowly pointing to yourself as if to say, “me?”

his face scrunched. “yeah, you. you’re so damn loud.” gosh, he hated how his voice was cracking, how he could feel his ears and cheeks lighting up in a swollen, cherry red. his stomach flipped.

she’s looking at you, gosh i’m sweating. i’m going to throw up. she’s so gorgeous. what the hell? they’re ugly as shit, i don’t think anything of them.

his eyes bore into yours.

“did you...need something?”

your voice broke his trance.

“kacchan, are you okay? you dozed off there for a second. you look like you’re burning up.”

bakugou looked to deku who was currently stretching out of his seat, arm extended. he pressed the back of his hand to bakugou’s forehead. “you’re really warm, kacchan. should we call recovery girl?”

it took him a moment to realize what was happening. his vision got blurry every time he was with you. bakugou smacked deku’s hand away. “i’m fine!” his voice lifted at the end, cracking. “i’m not sick. don’t you think i’d take better care of myself?”

“i don’t doubt you take good care of yourself, kacchan, but everyone gets sick once in a while. there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“i never get sick!” besides, if i got sick, i wouldn’t want you to be the one taking care of me.

he was still pissed. he was always in a bad mood, however, more so right now because you’d gone straight back to your phone and that stupid hero article that was supposedly so damn interesting.

soon enough, the bell rang, and you were seated at your desk. it was jirou’s old spot, however, after much convincing, you two had switched spots so you could be closer to deku. just a few months of getting close to the idiot and you two are suddenly best friends. jirou hadn’t minded one tiny bit, claiming she needed a break from how loud that section of the room was.

late as always, aizawa came trudging into your room. thankfully, his entire body wasn’t obscured by a yellow sleeping bag that smelled of something unwashed and coffee and gasoline. (for some reason, aizawa’s clothes always smelled of it.)

“lucky for you,” he began while shuffling papers on his desk, “all of you are doing training for these first periods.”

the class cheered in perfect unison, followed by their individual chatter. you had erupted with glee along with them, and bakugou was sure he felt his heart clench and then explode. just a tiny bit. but he shoved the feeling down just as quickly as it had come up.

“go out to the field and wait for further instructions. don’t make a sound in the halls otherwise, i’ll expel all of you.”

this shut everyone up in almost a second, the sound draining out just as water does. the first years trailed out into the hall, single-file mimicking the positions baby ducklings would take when following their mother.

bakugou found himself walking faster when he saw you take up your spot in the line, hoping to land his spot right behind you.

unfortunately, this idiot who considered himself bakugou’s friend tugged him back. “bakugou!” a familiar voice rasped.

“shitty hair, let go of me.”

“hey man, chill out. wanna partner up if we’re doing training in pairs?”

bakugou glanced at the line, the spot that should have been reserved for him now taken up by sato.

bakugou tugged his sleeve from kirishima’s hand. “whatever,” he snapped.

“sounds good!” kirishima flashed him a toothy grin and a thumbs-up. the bubbly feeling in bakugou’s chest died down as he stood behind sato, the overwhelming scent of sugar filling his nose, various candies that would go straight to your arteries.

“you smell like ass, damn,” bakugou remarked, squeezing his nostrils together.

luckily, sato was tall enough to not hear the insult, as he towered over bakugou by just another head. the line began moving like a sloppy train down to the change rooms.

bakugou scoffed as he listened to your giggle. he should be making you laugh.

“you’ll be given partners randomly from this box.” aizawa held up a familiar red box. “inside are all your names. i’ll select one, then that person will come up and pick another name from the box. that will be your assigned partner for today. as soon as you have your assigned partner, i want you guys to get straight to work.”

denki raised a hand, speaking before being called on. “sensei, why are we getting random partners? we’re always allowed to choose.”

“in the real world, you’re going to come across different villains every day. you’ll never improve your skills or your quirks if you keep fighting the same person.”

denki sighed, slumping back.

dammit, bakugou thought, gritting his teeth together. there wasn’t any way he wanted to be partners with you. it’s obvious he’d win the fight in the first few seconds.

yes! exactly right! bakugou internally grinned. his fluctuating feelings had finally soothed themselves. you were just another extra, and he had no room for you in his head.

aizawa took a moment to fiddle with the slips of paper inside the box. soon enough, he pulled out a name. “todoroki.”

todoroki walked up, digging his hand into the box when aizawa held it out for him. he pulled out a name, delicately unraveling the slip. “uraraka, you’re my partner.” he deadpanned.

the brunette grinned. “great!”

the two found their own spot on the field, and the class’s attention was once again diverted to their grouchy teacher as he pulled out another name.

“bakugou.”

bakugou strutted up without a worry in his mind. he pulled a name to find...

“y/n,” he said, voice a low growl. instead of the annoying fluttering in his chest, his eyes met yours, and they were filled with a different, new ferocity. he crumpled the paper in one hand, letting it twirl to the ground.

you looked at him, unsmiling. your eyes gave away nothing, and to bakugou’s knowledge, all you saw in him was another opponent.

it took him a moment to realize you had both locked eyes for about a minute. perhaps the two of you would have stayed as you were if aizawa hadn’t snapped at the two of you to get moving as yaomomo’s name was called.

bakugou was on his way to the back of the field, you followed close behind. while there was plenty of room still, he chose a secluded area. while it was still open enough to view everything going on so nobody got hurt, it was often nobody chose to train here. for whatever reason, you weren’t sure.

“wait up, bakugou,” you said. after a bit, you caught up to him.

“if you can’t keep up, then...” then what? he looked at you from the side of his eye. “then don’t keep up...” gosh, here came the embarrassing, disgusting feeling of redness in his cheeks.

you laughed. “what?”

“shut up.”

“you’re an idiot, bakugou.”

“i said shut the hell up!”

“what, so you can call me shitface in front of the entire class but you get all pissed when i call you an idiot?”

so you had heard him!

he tongued his cheek, curling his hands around an invisible ball, explosions sparking in the centers of his palms. “don’t expect me to hold back, dumbass.”

“i wouldn’t dream of it.”

gosh he loved that about you.

bakugou caught his thought in the air.

ahem...gosh he hated that about you.

you both charged in at the same time. his cry was louder than yours, but you struck first.

he admired your quirk. while he’d overhead you explaining all the drawbacks it had, it was strong, and you were strong because you knew how to control it.

purple arrows flew from your arms, going in your desired directions. if you lost focus for one moment, they’d vanish and weaken. if you focused too hard or long, you’d be plagued by a splitting headache.

he’d spent too much time obsessing over your strengths and weaknesses.

your arrows were weightless, however they were solid objects capable of carrying any mass, any thing, and worked as extensions of your body.

the violet arrow had shot out at him, twisting around his right gauntlet and crushing inwards. it’d snaked around him without him noticing, slithering along his back.

bakugou struggled to get the air-light arrow off his wrist, but it was no use. he glared back, only to see your focused, furrowed brows. he’d expected to see your cocky ass smiling. it was nice to see you weren’t.

that was one thing that had also caught his eye. you never underestimate your opponent, but you never underestimate yourself, either.

you conjured a larger arrow. it snaked around your right arm as you hurled bakugou into the air, releasing your grasp on him. you shot your other arrow into the air, and it raced into the sky.

it swerved. bakugou’s eyes went wide as the tip of the arrow came down on his chest. if they weren’t intangible things, he would have been bleeding out.

another drawback: the arrows, while they could solidify, they couldn’t do any actual damage. you had to use your surroundings to inflict harm on your opponent.

he coughed out as the arrow shot him into the ground. he hadn’t even touched you, and here he was, vulnerable and so...so...

you stood over him, hands on your hips.

vulnerable and so lost in that adorable, winning smile.

“get away from me, idiot,” he grunted and turned onto his side, his back crying out in pain.

“i think i won this fight, bakugou,” you chirped, rocking on your heels.

“don’t get arrogant, shithead. you won’t be winning against me anymore.”

you grinned, arrows shooting out behind your back.

the dorms were exceptionally quiet. you were typing away in the common room, bakugou on the couch reading. everyone was off doing something else. it was the weekend, luckily. he’d expected you to go bounding out with everyone else, however you’d stayed back, claiming you had some homework to catch up on.

bakugou being classic bakugou had stayed back. he was excited to have the dorm to himself, but your dumbass was stuck here with him. couldn’t you have done your typing in your room?

you were so aggressive on that poor keyboard.

“oi, quiet down with your shit typing.”

you barely grunted in response.

“don’t ignore me.”

“i heard you, mom.”

“the hell did you call me?”

no response. only your aggressive typing is a bit less aggressive.

“i can still hear it,” bakugou remarked, eyes fixed on your back.

“‘kay,” you said. your typing slowed a tad, and your pressure on the keys lessened.

it was quiet now. bakugou should go back to his book. he shouldn’t still be looking for a reason to talk to you.

the pages crinkled in his fingers. he bit his tongue, keeping his snarky comments in.

“you’re a fucking idiot, you know that? doing your damn homework. it’s due tomorrow.”

you turned, pursing your lips. “and how would you know what i’m working on? are you stalking me?”

“i- what? no. you’re such an idiot, of course i’m not—”

“i’m messing with you,” you breathed, face un-moving.

“o-oh,” bakugou stuttered out. he blinked awkwardly.

“gosh, what’s gotten your panties in a twist?”

“you’re annoying.”

“you’re a jackass.” you returned to your work. bakugou settled with reading in his room. reading consisted of jumping onto his bed just as the stereotypical high school girl would in an eighties movie. he buried his face in his pillow, face burning bright red. he cursed you for making him feel this way, and hated himself even more for how much he enjoyed it.

the next day came swiftly. you’d left early to go train with midoriya. there were many improvements needed to be made, but you weren’t doing too bad.

you propelled yourself forwards with an arrow, and your green-haired friend shot back, lightning flickering around his body.

landing back on the ground, you panted and swiped the sweat from your brow. from the corner of your eye, you could make out both kirishima and bakugou coming to the training grounds.

bakugou stopped in his tracks, frowning at the sight of you.

it was evident he hated you a bit more than everyone else. he was always making his annoying comments, he was always snubbing you. you saw no reason to talk to him, so you didn’t. either way, even if you tried, he would still get angry for no reason.

it’d taken you quite some time to get used to his obnoxious attitude. tuning him out had been the best course of action, in your opinion.

the way you and midoriya had bonded was through bakugou, in a way. the first day of school, bakugou had snapped at you for tripping over your laces and nearly crashing into him. later that day, midoriya had stepped up and apologized for his old friend’s actions.

you two had never been too close until now. the recent incidents going on with the league of villains had snagged your attention, and it seemed you were the only person who didn’t mind listening to him ramble on about heroes.

you were just as passionate and just as dorky, but midoriya could talk your ear off. you never minded, and he always took the hint when you didn’t want to listen.

you brought your leg up, twirling in the air with ease and watched your heel collide with midoriya’s face. he grunted, stumbling back.

you were about to charge in again when a hand landed on your shoulder, big and rough. you turned to see bakugou standing behind you, a scowl on his face.

“fight me again,” he demanded.

“excuse me?”

“don’t act like you didn’t hear me.”

“i’m in the middle of fighting midoriya right now.”

“so?”

“so if you think that i’m just going to ditch my friend because you want to fight, i won’t.”

“you’re being stubborn.”

“i’m being reasonable. back off.”

“y/n?” midoriya rubbed his jaw—right where you had struck him. “what’s going on?” he jogged up to you and bakugou.

“he wants to fight me in the middle of our fight. it’s nothing serious. don’t worry about it, midoriya. let’s just ignore him.”

bakugou made a sound someone would only make if they were choking. “the hell did you just say?”

“we’re ignoring you!” you waved him off and placed your hand on midoriya’s shoulder, wandering away.

it was new to him, not getting what he wanted. and what he wanted right now was to be around you. again, it wasn’t like he would ever admit that to himself.

“dude? you good? i thought you went off to fight y/n. i was so ready to cheer you on, dude,” kirishima’s chipper voice piped in. “she’s not fighting with you? why not?”

“the dumbass was just probably scared of getting her ass beat by me.”

“dude...that sounds really weird.”

“whatever, shitty hair. let’s go.”

the clock ticked. his ears were on fire. again.

gosh, it was happening again. it was all you. his face scrunched up, his voice would surely crack if someone were to ask him what was wrong.

bakugou was once again stuffing his face in his pillow, hiding his expression from no one. why did you have to go train with that shitty nerd? why were you always around deku? deku, of all people. what did he have? why was he so great?

bakugou was a man of many insecurities, but losing to deku? that was possibly his biggest fear.

perhaps he wasn’t the nicest, or the most soft person out there. bakugou could admit that, at least. but he was smarter than deku. he was stronger and he was better and people liked him more. right?

what was so...amazing about deku?

it was often bakugou would find himself obsessing over little, insignificant things such as these.

you were what he was thinking of most of the time. just yesterday, he’d gotten a test returned. he was expecting an eighty at the lowest, but more so expecting a high ninety. it’d come back exactly sixty percent.

sixty. percent.

bakugou vividly remembered staring at your face. he also remembered not being able to focus because of it. his grades were dropping because of you.

you were the only person to be able to do this to him.

his heart grew quiet, but the pounding of his didn’t cease. he lifted his head.

“alright, fine,” he said aloud. “you win, y/n. you win.”

he settled with getting over his feelings the way he’d read them in his collection of romance manga.

bakugou left his room and knocked on your door. (he was banging on it, but it was his nice way of knocking.)

you answered, looking around awkwardly. “yes?”

his hands shook. how was this supposed to go? sure, he’d seen it in romance movies and read it in books but it was always easy to tell whether the guy would get the girl or not.

in this instance, bakugou was clueless. for once in his life, he was clueless. you stood, tapping your foot with a hand on your hip, waiting expectantly for him to tell you why he was here.

“um.” he scratched behind his neck. “you uh- i uh...i’m sorry i called you a, um...a shitface.”

“okay? is that it?”

what? come on! it was already unlike him to apologize. what else did you want from him?

“did you...i’ve been thinking, maybe? maybe we could..train together as...friends?”

“...what?”

gosh dammit, as friends?

“whatever, um...the uh...” oh gosh, what did the boys do in all the books he’d read? right! bakugou stretched out his arm, resting his forearm on the door, leaning to the side.

although he didn’t, really, because like the clumsy jackass he was, bakugou missed completely and nearly toppled to the floor.

this earned a snicker from you.

his stomach flipped and churned, and bakugou found himself unable to reach your eyes. “uh, would you maybe..? okay, um. do you want to go on a date with me? you absolute fucking dumbass.”

your eyes flew wide. “...what?”

“no, that’s not what i— i mean i didn’t mean the last part. um, i meant the first part. the first two parts. the part where i was asking you if you wanted to go on a date with me and then before that when i said maybe because it’s still a maybe until you say yes. or...or no because that’s an option too.”

he swallowed.

you resisted the urge to mock him, just a little bit. “um, bakugou, listen.”

he leaned closer. “yes?”

“it’s going to be a no. i’m sorry, but i’m just not interested in you like that.”

it took him a moment to register everything. his shoulders sagged. gosh that was brutal.

“oh, alright.”

“yeah, uh, sorry about that.” you offered him a weak smile, still a bit shocked yourself. he did his best to return it, and when you closed the door, his face was ready to explode.

it was so damn difficult to deal with these feelings, but maybe it was better this way. knowing where you stood on your end, he knew he wouldn’t miss out on anything.

perhaps it was alright to admire from afar. things could happen in the future, right?

right now, he’d just wait. for a long, long time. bakugou pressed a hand to his chest, feeling his erratic heartbeat. maybe it was alright to not have you right now. perhaps he could better himself for you. just for you.

320 notes · View notes

kyunisixx · 3 years

Text

chiaroscuro

artist!Robert Plant AU one shot.

a/n: this really started out as a song I wanted to write. But I knew I had to turn it into a longer writing!!

themes: fluff, mild implications of nsfw and tw: childhood trauma.

summary: in which Y/N becomes a muse for Robert, a landscape artist in more ways than one. (Man, that summary is so shit but let's roll with it)

pairing: artist!Robert Plant x fem!reader

chi·a·ro·scu·ro

the treatment of light and shade in drawing and painting.

an effect of contrasted light and shadow created by light falling unevenly or from a particular direction on something.

"Lean back for me a bit more, darling. That's right, relax."

As she moves, the old sofa creaks beneath her. Chilled air gusts through a partially opened window, making her shiver and sending miniscule bumps all over her bare skin. Her eyes drift over the fixtures inside the cozy cabin, illuminated by an outmoded oil lamp situated on the man's table. Several tiny moths were floating around it as the flame wavered ever so slightly from the breeze.

Scattered were all paintbrushes and smudges of paint were messily smeared all over the table. A round board was placed so close at the edge (one she heard him call before —a palette). In the middle is a rustic cup with half-empty, now cold tea. But a paint-smudged hand grasped on its handle and swiftly brought it over to a mouth.

Then her eyes met his.

His frizzled, curly blond locks are pulled into a disheveled bun. One he pinned up so carelessly with a thin, unused paintbrush as to prevent it from obstructing his view but a few ringlets managed to escape and are now framing his face.

Ivory-colored shirt, a few buttons undone to reveal smooth skin of his collarbones which were also marked with a few shades of paint. Some scattered across his jawline to his cheek.

Lips are pursed and eyes are pulled into deep concentration, they are set into a particular part of her. As if to capture the exact curvature of the crease on her waist.

Salient was the cleft on his chin and the sharp edge of his cheekbones by the incandescent light lent by the lamp, making him look like a contrast between sinister and elegance.

He dipped a brush and carefully made short strokes on the canvas, pausing every now and then to look at her.

The sun was setting and the sky was shaded a dull gray, providing so little of brightness which seemed to have darkened even more being situated in a lush forest.

Many months ago at this time of the day, she would have just been getting up from her sleep. Wake up and get ready for a long shift. It was a routine she had gotten so used to every day.

Take a bath. Eat. Pick out an outfit. Put on makeup. Be into the persona.

She would become a completely different person as soon as she stepped into the establishment she knew for as long as she moved into the town a few months ago.

From having to move into different cities and using different names to hide her identity. All of it to escape the filthy and haunted ghost of her past.

Screaming. Glass breaking. Bruises. Slamming doors. All of the things a child shouldn't have to go through. She took a risk and ran away from it.

And here is where she ended up thirteen years later.

Lacklustre eyes unmoving as they steadily stared back at her in a blurry mirror inside the changing room. All the girls' chattering seemed to have been muted and faded in the background as she gazed at her reflection. She picked up the small item in her hand, before taking the cap off and swiped the crimson lipstick across her chapped lips, creating a thick shade.

"Y/N, you ready to go?"

She turned her head back to Don, the club manager. She smiled and moved her head in a single nod.

“Sure, Don. Just give me a short moment”. She adjusted the strap of her black velvet dress and walked on the familiar, dimly lit hallway. Her stilettos clapped quietly on the floor as she padded and stopped in front of a red curtain covering the doorway from the side to the stage.

"How's it going, folks? Alright, alright. I'd get right into it. This is the moment you've all been waiting for. The crowd favourite, slithers like a python, mistress of the night; Marilyn"

Then, she waited as the main lights switched off and took her cue to enter as smoke filled the platform. Coloured lights gleamed right through. She situated herself right in the middle then circled her hand on the pole as the first note of the song started to hum quietly. Like a distant patter of rain—calm before the storm. Her hips moved into the rhythm and fluidly sneaked around the pole as the cloud of smoke started to clear out. Gazing into the crowd of men, her blood-red lips quirk into a smirk.

It was the only time she knew she had complete power and control. And she relished it, savoring the potency.

Her hands smoothed all over her now slightly perspired skin as men clamored and hooted for her. Bills were haphazardly thrown into the dancefloor. Something that she wasn't used to when she first started, it made her feel cheap. Dirty. But her routine carried on almost every night, she eventually got used to it and had even grown to like it.

Then she spotted him.

Big ball of golden hair illuminated by stage lights. He was situated amongst the sea of predators, his eyes followed the fluidity of her movements. But what struck her the most was the way he was watching her. It wasn't shadowed by lust, but more of an intense wonder and curiosity. It was as if he was memorizing each part of her curves, but for another purpose.

Her gaze somewhat mirrored his. He definitely wasn't strange-looking. Hell, he might have been the most beautiful man she has ever seen. He didn't belong to a place where no good men wander around. Both his beguiling beauty and aura was completely out of place for such a place like this.

The song then came to a stop. Her number was over but her eyes remained locked with his. It was only then she came back to consciousness as Don's voice boomed into the large speakers, signalling the end of her performance. She collected the bills scattered on the floor and walked off the stage, throwing a last glance into the crowd as she took her exit.

He was gone.

He wouldn't show up for a couple of days. She was sure, of course. The moment she steps out, her eyes would already be skimming through the lounge, and would sigh in disappointment if she didn't spot any sign of him.

"Have you seen your mysterious man yet?"

One of the girls she was closest to, Hershey, asked as she counted the thick block of bills on her hand.

"He wasn't out there tonight"

"You could have been hallucinating. Anyway, you told me he was 'like an angel'"

Hershey laughed, mimicking the way she had said the last part with a breathy tone and added, "Or could have been disappointed in your dance number, ran away and swore to not step a foot into this place again"

She stopped momentarily, chuckled lightly and sighed, "You may not be far from the truth but we'll see."

Then he would be there the next night, positioned right at a table at the back. His curly locks gave his identity right away, with his elbows propped up and fingers poised against his chin, bearing the same gaze.

Later that night, he'd be waiting right outside of the club.

"The show was spectacular."

She tilted her head to him, nodded and smiled.

"Thank you."

She wasn't sure how it ended up with her sitting on a stool inside a cozy 24-hour operating diner so late at night, chatting with her "mysterious man" late at night, who introduced himself as Robert. He was apparently a landscape artist and has traveled the world where he finds inspirations for his works.

"The best place I have ever been to? Hm. I'd say Machu Picchu, set in the high mountains of Andes in Peru, above a river called Urubamba. I had to hike all the way up, and you could see the breathtaking view when you reach the top."

"That does sound very lovely." She sighed wistfully.

"Have you ever traveled anywhere outside the country?"

"Oh no, I have not. I move to different places a lot but I've never gone out, never had the chance to."

"Ah, you should! It's wonderful."

She nodded, "Do you only do landscaping?"

"Well, no. I do a little bit of abstract art but I focus mainly on landscaping. I was thinking of expanding more, though. Maybe portrait, or nude art."

"That's a good idea. An artist has to come out of his comfort zone and be able to become great."

"Yeah…", he trailed off, as if lost in thought. "I hope this doesn't come off as strange or I as a creep. But may I ask you to be my muse? Don't worry! We'll only do portrait." He added the last sentence quickly.

She tilted her head to the side and looked at him, her brows furrowed deep in thought.

"You don't have to s—"

"I'll do it."

A few days later, she was again popped up on a stool inside his flat just a few blocks away from the club. His place was spacious, but had a very rustic feel to the interior design. A few souvenirs from different countries were neatly placed on a shelf and most of his paintings were hung stylistically on the walls (in which she stared at in complete awe for what she could tell an hour each painting until he had to drag her away to his studio)

Her fingers fiddled as she tried to stay still under his calculating gaze. She never had much problem with how she looked and never had insecurities. Perhaps she just didn't care enough to be insecure. But at that moment, she thought of how she must've appeared to him and if she was good-looking enough to be an inspiration for his art.

"Are you alright there?"

"Yes! Yes, I… Yeah I'm alright."

His hand stopped and placed the paintbrush on the table. "Are you sure? If you're not comfortable or if you need a break, we could stop for a bit."

She shook her head vigorously, "No, it's okay. Don't worry."

"If you say so."

She let her eyes travel from his bare foot, to his khaki trousers, to his satin shirt with top three buttons undone, to his face. Oh, his gorgeous face. It was pulled into a deep concentration as he stared at his work, giving her some time to study his majestic features.

His eyes flickered to hers as if sensing her stare and playfully frowned, a small smile curled on the side of his lips.

"What?"

He laughed, "You were staring."

"I was. Is it a crime?"

"No, I wouldn't say it is." He said with a teasing edge to his voice.

It was their arrangement which they stick to a few times a week. On her day off, after work if she wasn't feeling too exhausted. There was an obvious attraction lingering inside the room of his small studio but none of them acted upon it other than just casual flirtations thrown around. He was a perfect gentleman and had always been accommodating. A couple of times he would insist on paying her in which she would always refuse to accept.

"The tea you make for me is enough for a payment." She had jokingly said. "Do not worry about it, Robert. Really, it's okay. I'm making enough from my job."

One night, after their sessions, they had too many drinks and bottles were littered over the table along with his paint brushes which had long dried of paint.

"Tell me about you, Marilyn. Mistress of the night, who apparently, slithers like a python." He mused, mentioning her alias. His glossy eyes filled with mirth.

She snorted, took a long swig of beer and swiped the back of her hand across her mouth.

"Marilyn is… Nobody. I'm nobody. I came from somewhere that in my mind, ceased to exist." She stared ahead. "I ran away from home. Who calls it a home anyway?" She laughed humorlessly.

"My parents fought a lot. They spent so much time fighting, they didn't even have time for me. Looking back at it now, I could have just preferred that. But then, they turned their anger towards me." She sniffed and quickly wiped the salty tears before they even slid down to her flushed cheeks.

"I went to my grandparents. They loved me so much and I loved them so dearly. But they were not my parents. Eventually, both of them passed away and I was left on my own. But I was eighteen. I didn't have to go back to my parents. So I went to different cities, finding places where I could feel like I could fit in. Looked for jobs, and then I ended up here. I made friends and I have my own place, but it still never felt like home."

He was quietly staring at her, and the silence was deafening. Then he lifted his free hand to her face and ran the back of his index finger to dry her cheeks. Her hand caught his and brought it to her lips and placed a soft kiss.

"But with you, it feels… different. I like hanging out with you. I like being with you. You feel like home to me, Robert."

Her voice echoed softly as he took his time to reply. But he didn't, instead, he leaned down and sealed his lips against hers.

He layed limply on top of her body as he shuddered from his release. Both tried to desperately catch for their breath as her hand smoothed down his back and the other combed through his damp locks. He slid out of her and dropped beside her, not too long before he enclosed his arms over her and pulled closer. He catches her lips on his in a lazy kiss and smiled.

"You feel like home to me too, Y/N."

Her heart soared and nuzzled her nose against his.

"I want to paint you like this. May I? You are so beautiful. In light and in shadow."

She blushed, "Yes, but right now? I'm tired."

"No, no. We'll do it tomorrow. I'll take you somewhere." His warm breath hit her skin as he whispered.

"Where?" She whispered back.

"Well, I'm not telling you that. But it was what I helped my Father build when I was younger. It's somewhat like a special place for me, and I want you to see it."

He gazed at her as he waited for her to respond.

"Okay."

Under the light of the lamp, she peers at him under her lashes.

"Don't look at me like that."

"Mm? I have no idea what you are talking about."

"You know what it is. Cut it out or I'll never get to finish this."

She huffs. "You're no fun"

"I can prove you otherwise in a few minutes."

He continued to do his finishing touches and leaned back to admire his work.

"That isn't too bad. But nothing compares to the real art."

"And what might that be?"

"You, my love." He stood up, walked over to where she was, placed his hand at the back of her neck and pulled her to him.

"I've been waiting for this for hours."

"I've been giving you hints and you insist on finishing your art."

He chuckled. "Of course I had to."

His fingers danced their way from her sides to her hips, rubbing along the marks littered across her skin.

"Are you ready to see it?" He murmured against her neck. She shudders as she nodded, giving their playful banter a break.

He bit her earlobe softly, "Okay."

He walked over to his canvas and carefully turned it around to face her.

She gasps.

⭐ writings list ⭐

taglist: @jonesyjonesyjonesy , @princesspagey , @ritacaroline , @jimmys-zeppelin , @rebel-without-a-zeppelin , @reincarnated70sbaby (if you wanted to be added in, let me know 🤘🏻🤗)

#robert plant x reader #robert plant #led zeppelin #fanfic #led zeppelin fanfic #led zeppelin imagines #john paul jones #john bonham #jimmy page #fluff #cabincore #rustic #artist!au

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kittykat222 · 3 years

Text

Dedicated to @mango-bango-bby

Yandere Deku x Female Reader

Can’t really give a summary because it would for sure ruin the first chapter.

Trigger Warnings for this chapter: VIOLENCE

————-

Chapter 1 of ?

Three disgusting bullets ripped through the summer night air, screeching into the young man's chest. He buckles, library books spilling from his grasp as he falls backwards against the pavement. The white van that had careened close to the boy sped off, the gang members inside hollering and rejoicing the death of a teenager. So much noise, so much action, and yet as he lay sprawled out on the pavement no one dared leave their house to save him. He was as good as dead.

A small squeak of a door emits from across the road, a shaking pale faced girl peaking out. She had heard the shots, had witnessed the attack, and had come to the realization that no one would help that young man. So, with terror biting at her heels she runs into the street in only her pajamas, she could hear the van and knew it would circle around the neighborhood a second time. This was stupid. Utterly, undeniably stupid. And yet she moved anyway, it was as if her entire body was moving on its own.

She gets on her knees next to the boy, he has green hair she notices, and freckles dot his face. The young man looks up at her with a pained expression, it seemed that the library books he was carrying had shielded him from two of the bullets. However, there was one bullet that had succeeded in tearing through his right shoulder.

"We have to run; can you get up?"

He blinks in response, still in shock by what just happened. She decides not to wait for a clear answer and forces him onto his feet. The two teenagers run across the street, the music blasting from the van becoming louder as the vehicle was making a turn back into the street. As if by pure luck the two reach her house in time and with a push she forces the young man inside, tripping and falling directly on top of him. The two lie still as the van screeches to a stop, angry voices and loud music fill the air. Much to the gang's disappointment, their target practice had ended.

Deku was beginning to become aware of what was going on. UA had sent class 1A on a supervised field trip in some beat up town. The heroes-to-be had to do community service and volunteer work in order to learn how to form bonds with people. This town had a curfew due to gang violence and drive by shootings. Deku tried to be good, but his curiosity had gotten the better of him and he found himself in the town's library researching how such a vibrant town could be overrun with criminals. Deku had completely forgotten about the curfew and was soon lost on the many unfamiliar streets whilst trying to find his way back to Class 1A.

Gingerly, as if one move may break the man under her, the girl gets up. "I think they're gone now." She whispers, "Don't move, I need you to stay still."

His savior runs further into the house only to come back with a first aid kit and...a cup? He can't seem to speak right now, the shock not completely gone, so he just watches her get everything ready. With a certain amount of skill, she effectively rids him of his shirt and begins using tweezers and a flashlight, the whole time she's fishing out the bullet she tries to talk to him.

"You're going to be okay," She says, "Alright, it's out, you're doing great friend." The tiny bullet makes a little clink sound once she drops it into the cup and as his savior begins bandaging him up, she casually explains herself.

"My name is y/n, I saw what happened and I just had to act- no no don't move you need to stay absolutely still. I can't call an ambulance with that van outside, so we'll have to wait for the morning."

"Y/n." Her name sounded so beautiful to him. "Thank you."

It felt strange to be rescued by a stranger, and yet here he was. She gives him a small smile before turning back to her work, making sure the blood has finally congealed so he doesn't continue bleeding out.

"What is your quirk?" With the shock finally leaving him Deku is now becoming ever more curious about this adorable girl.

"Don't have one."

He stills, she's quirkless? A quirkless girl saved him?

"Now what did I say about staying still?"

#izuku midoriya #yandere deku #yandere Izuku #bnha #my hero academy #izuku x reader

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alj4890 · 3 years

Text

I have a few things I’m still working on. This weekend I had planned to write and post more, yet a family emergency completely destroyed that notion. Here’s some (longer than usual) peeks into what I’ve been creating in case anyone is interested. I will be posting the next chapter to And The I Left You within the next couple of days. That series will be wrapping up soon and I’ll be posting for these next ones along with requests and such. The three I’m sharing are the Dark TRR AU All Through the Night, The Thomas Hunt Worth the Wait What If AU to this series, and my first Open Heart series, Mixed Signals

Tagging those who might want to see what’s coming next 😉

@gkittylove99 @krsnlove @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30 @yourmajesty09 @mom2000aggie @ofpixelsandscribbles @twinkleallnight @lodberg @twinkleallnight @amandablink @neotericthemis @mm2305 @sfb123 @iufilms @sophxwithers @flyawayboo @trappedinfanfiction

All Through the Night

Cordonia's Royal Palace, 2 a.m.

"Heeeerah!” Olivia threw her daggers as hard as she could while doing a roundhouse kick.

The blades struck into the chest, head, and groin of the makeshift dummy.

She brushed the few strands of red hair that had escaped her hair clip out of her eyes. With a great deal of scrutiny, she studied her dagger placement.

"The one to the head needs to go deeper."

She spun around with a start at that all too familiar voice.

"You're late." She folded her arms and tapped her foot.

Liam rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry. Had to stop off for a quick bite."

Olivia rolled her eyes. "That's not funny."

"Not that kind of bite." He teased, holding up a styrofoam box.

"Oh." She blinked in surprise. "I forget that you enjoy normal food too."

He chuckled at that. "There are certain foods that I don't think any man could ever give up."

Olivia decided to ignore that as she wiped the sweat from her face and neck. "Now that you're here, let's get the formalities over with."

"Very well." Liam gestured toward her. "You may go first."

She sat down on a bench lining one side of the palace gym. She motioned for him to join her.

"Not you!" She hissed when she saw his all too familiar guard.

Drake Walker bristled at her tone. His brown eyes clashed with her green.

"Give us a moment, please." Liam asked him.

"Don't let your guard down." Drake warned. "Remember, she's a Nevarkis."

Olivia tensed. "Perhaps you should remember what happened the last time you said something like that."

She quirked one eyebrow at the man and felt a sense of glee when he winced in memory.

His hand automatically drifted to his side where one of her daggers had once struck true.

With a quick bow to Liam, Drake stepped back out into the hallway.

Liam shook his head. "Are you two ever going to get along?"

"Stop talking stupid." Olivia snapped. "Now then, as you know...I must have my revenge."

"I know." Liam folded his arms and leaned casually against a column.

She eyed him for any sign of hatred.

It drove her crazy how unvampiric he could be.

He seemed almost human.

He seemed...kind.

A vampire is nature's evil incarnate. You can never trust a Rhys.

Those words had been drummed into her skull by her parents and then her aunt after their deaths by Constantine's hand.

And yet...Liam had done the unthinkable.

He had actually been a friend to Olivia.

*************

The night after her parents' funeral, five year old Olivia had been sitting alone before the fireplace, weeping over them.

Her aunt had left her to deal with her own grief and to plan the next attack upon Constantine.

As she searched for a tissue, Olivia jumped back with a shriek at the little blonde haired boy that held the Kleenex box.

His eyes were filled with unshed tears as he handed her a tissue.

"Who are you?" She asked, remembering that a Nevarkis must always be brave.

"I'm Liam." He explained. "I wanted to...I wanted to tell you I'm sorry about your parents." He sniffed and took a tissue for himself. "My mom died too."

Olivia blinked and took a cautious step forward. "Are you...are you a vampire?!"

He nodded.

She whipped out the dagger her mother had given her and rushed at him.

Liam moved faster than she could comprehend, gently keeping her hand above her head.

"Let go of me, monster!" She ordered. "You're why I'm all alone!"

"I didn't do anything." He told her, anguish taking over his handsome features. "I don't want to hurt you or anyone."

"Liar!" She snapped. "That's what you do. Lie and kill." Her tears ran faster down her cheeks. "And now you'll kill me."

"I won't." He promised. "I swear I won't hurt you." He ignored his own tears trickling down his cheeks. His blue eyes burned with resolve. "My mother made me promise never to hurt a human."

Olivia shook her head. It had to be lies. Isn't that what vampires and monsters do? Lull you into letting your guard down so that they could have an easy kill.

"Your father will pay for what he did." She said, hoping to see his true, evil nature. "He must die!"

"I know." Liam slowly released her and took a step back.

Olivia watched in surprise as he sat down before her fireplace and pulled out a silk blue ribbon from his pocket.

He motioned for her to join him.

She slowly lowered herself down, dagger poised in her little fist in case he made a move.

"May I have your hand, please?" He asked.

He patiently waited on her to decide whether or not to give it to him.

She tentatively placed her hand in his.

His lips turned up into a relieved smile as he wrapped the ribbon over their joined hands.

"What are you doing?" She asked, lowering her dagger.

"Making a bond." He explained. "I, Liam Rhys, Crown Prince of the Dark Kingdom, promise to never seek out revenge and to end all vendettas against the Nevarkis family." His blue eyes held her green. "Just as my mother, Queen Eleanor wanted me to."

Oliva's lips parted. "You mean it?"

"I do." Liam's voice held a great deal of sincerity. "I would rather walk into the sun than not do as she asked."

"Oh." Olivia sniffed. She could understand that kind of devotion.

"Do you," Liam's cheeks colored. "Do you think we can be allies?"

"A Nevarkis will never be friends with a monster." She repeated the rhetoric that she knew by heart.

"But," Liam's shoulders slumped. "We're not all bad."

"All monsters are bad at heart."

"I'm not." He pouted. "I don't want to be."

"You're so weird." She muttered.

"Am not." Liam grumbled. "I hope I'm not."

Olivia looked down at their hands still bound together. "I guess since you promised something, I should too."

He didn't bother to hide his surprise.

She stuck her tongue out at him. "I, Olivia Nevarkis, The Crown Princess of Cordonia, swear that after I kill Constantine Rhys, I will lay down my weapons." Her brow furrowed. "I'll pick them back up though if you or any other monster tries anything."

Liam's smile grew. Before she could react, he tugged her into a quick hug.

"Now we can be friends!" He cheered.

"Friends?" She shook her head. "I'm a Nevarkis and you're a Rhys. We can't be friends."

"We will be." He vowed, jumping to his feet. "I have to go before Father finds out I've sneaked out. I'll try to come back in a few nights."

Olivia didn't have a chance to tell him whether or not she wanted him to. In the blink of an eye, he had jumped from her balcony and was already out the palace gates.

*****************

That had been the beginning of Liam's visits. Through the years, he had remained true to his promise. He did all he could to befriend her and never tried to sway her from seeking vengeance.

Olivia had once asked him how he could take her threat against his father so easily.

He had merely shrugged, explaining that he knew it was the way of things. His father had killed both her parents, while he had only lost one. He hoped she didn't since he did not wish to see his father or her dead.

Olivia had then told him again how weird he was, bringing another smile to his lips.

And now here he was again, calmly taking her promised vengeance well.

"So what business brings you here tonight?" She asked.

"Father thinks it is time I chose a wife." Liam responded. "I thought you should know that I will be spending more time in your kingdom to find one."

Olivia shot up off the bench. "What? But you promised to never hurt a human!"

"And I will keep true to that." He explained.

"But..." Olivia's brow furrowed. "You'll turn her into a vampire."

"Only if she wishes it." Liam explained. "I won't force her to make such a decision."

"I see." She began to pace while thinking. "You'll have vampire children."

"Only if she's a vampire." He reminded her. "Remember my brother."

Olivia paused. She had forgotten about Leo Rhys, The Great Disappointment of the Dark Kingdom. His mother had begged Constantine not to turn her. It had never been asked before, and in his mercy he had agreed. That was when they all discovered that a monster and a human could only produce a human child. In order for the heir to the Dark Kingdom to be a vampire, both parents had to be the same being.

"And you'll be fine having human children?" She asked. "If you're chosen bride refuses the Vampire's Kiss?"

"Of course." He responded.

"Lord, you're so weird." She muttered.

His smirk flashed. "Let's hope the woman I choose doesn't think so."

"Are there no women in your kingdom you can choose from?" She asked.

"I've looked." He shook his head. "It's hard to explain, but if one doesn't have an arranged marriage, then we must search until we see the one meant for us."

"And you somehow got weirder." She brushed her hands down her pants and held one out to him. "Good luck, I suppose."

"Thank you." He grasped her hand and lifted it to his lips. "I'll keep you updated on my progress."

"There's no need."

"Of course there is." He winked at her on his way out. "We're friends."

Her lips parted to once again remind him that they couldn't be. For some reason, she decided not to say it.

Liam had somehow wormed his way into her life and had become the closest friend she had ever had.

***********************

Worth the Wait (RCD/TRR What If AU)

Amanda grimaced once more over her swollen eyes. Thank goodness she had gone with waterproof eye makeup. At least she only looked swollen instead of a puffy eyed racoon.

Her stomach gurgled when Thomas opened the door.

She hid her face in her hands. "I'm sorry. I've not eaten since I threw up a muffin this morning."

He couldn't help but smile at her embarrassment. "You don't have to worry about what I think when that happens.

When she lifted her head, his eyes narrowed in concern.

"You've been crying." He gently took her face in his hands.

"Hormones." She wondered how she was able to say such a falsehood so easily.

His hands lingered, thumbs brushing her cheeks, then dropped to his sides. "I should forewarn you. Rachel and Stephen are here."

Amanda stepped back, nearly falling backwards off his front stoop.

Thomas caught her in his arms, turning them both until she was safely between him and a wall.

"Are you all right?" He could feel her heart thumping against his chest.

She nodded. "Just caught off guard." Biting her lip, she lifted her eyes to his. "Did you tell them about," she gestured toward her belly.

"I did."

"And?"

"And they are thrilled with the knowledge that they will have a niece or nephew before the year is through.”

Amanda finally asked the question that was really bothering her. “Do they, of course they must, but do they hate me too much for my,” she took a deep breath, “for ending things between us?”

If Thomas was to go with how his sister had not only readily jumped into planning a wedding for them as well as becoming angry over his not proposing to Amanda yet, he seriously doubted she held anything against his ex.

“They don’t hate you at all.” He kept an arm around her waist. “Come inside.”

Leaning a bit closer than necessary to him for comfort, she allowed him to lead her to his living room.

Rachel jumped up and hugged her, pushing her brother out of the way. “I’m so excited!”

Amanda laughed when Stephen thanked her for getting pregnant.

“Now Rach will stop pestering me about getting a puppy or kitten. All her time will be spent in preparation of becoming an aunt.”

“We will get one of those if my niece or nephew wants one.” Rachel snapped at him.

She ignored his teasing grin and focused on Amanda. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” She lied.

“She suffers with severe morning sickness.” Thomas corrected.

Rachel’s brow furrowed. “Who is taking care of you?”

“Me.” Amanda said with a laugh that wasn’t quite sincere. “Servants, occasionally my friends, and of course Thomas when we are together.”

Rachel glared at her brother. “She needs help all the time.”

He glared back, knowing she was heavily hinting that they should get married.

“I’ll be fine. Hopefully by my next appointment it will have lessened.” Amanda said, wondering at their sudden irritation.

“And if it doesn’t?” Rachel continued to stare Thomas down.

“Then I’ll do what I have been doing.” Amanda shrugged. “I really don’t have much of a choice in the matter.”

She moved away from them to sit down.

“Some people have a choice.” Rachel muttered where only Thomas could hear.

Ignoring her, he asked Amanda what she felt like eating.

“I’m not sure. This baby and I have very different views on what I should eat." She tried to joke.

He had to stop himself from brushing her hair back from her face. That lopsided grin of hers had a way of making him feel the need to comfort her.

"I was thinking of taking you to The Palm for dinner."

Her surprise made him smile. It used to be one of their favorite places to eat. Thomas hadn't been there since they broke up. For some reason, he had gone ahead and made a reservation for them.

"The Palm?" Rachel leaned forward. "What kind of food do they have."

"Italian." Amanda smiled at him. "I have had a craving for tomatoes recently."

"Then hopefully you'll be able to enjoy a meal for a change."

"We'll go to the guest house and get cleaned up." Rachel tugged Stephen up out of his chair. "What time should we be ready?"

"You have thirty minutes." Thomas warned.

"Thirty?!" Rachel dashed out.

Stephen chuckled. "How long do we really have?"

"Forty-five minutes." Thomas replied. "But I know my sister and if i say forty-five, she'll take an hour or more."

Stephen snorted in amusement. "Yes, she will."

Once they were alone, Thomas sat down across from Amanda.

"The Palm." Her smile dimmed some over the memories of romantic evenings spent at that particular establishment. "I can't remember the last time we had dinner there."

"November." Thomas fought squirming when she looked up in surprise once more.

"I'm looking forward to it." Amanda said to break the uncomfortable silence that had fallen between him.

"So am I." He got up to get something to drink. He offered to get her something just to have something to do.

He could feel her eyes following him out of his living room. When he was out of eyesight he pinched the bridge of his nose. He still didn't know if he could risk his heart again. He knew she was leaving soon and that things between them were up in the air.

And he was wanting to settle once more into how they once were.

But then that would bring up whether or not they should go ahead and marry.

Should we? If it doesn't work out, how much more will it hurt to walk away from her and our child? To break the life I once dreamed of having with her...should I really jump into it without seeing if it's worth the chance?

He didn't know. He knew his fear was keeping him from so much. Yet...hadn't his fear kept him from horrible decisions in the past?

Or had it kept him from something great?

He prepared her a glass of ginger ale and brought it to her.

He grasped on the topic of what she planned to do once back in Cordonia while he debated on what to do.

************************

Mixed Signals (Open Heart AU) exert

A few minutes later, Bryce motioned for her to follow him to the cafeteria. It was for the most part empty, save for a couple of doctors grabbing a late lunch.

"You want anything?" He asked.

"No thanks." She sat down at a table while he went to get a snack.

He grinned as he sat down across from her. "Here." He pushed a bag of peanuts toward her. "You should eat something."

Her nose wrinkled. "I haven't really got my appetite back yet."

She noticed the concern in his eyes so like her roommates' and knew she would have to force down some of it just to make it stop.

"So?" She tried not to gag on what once was her favorite go to snack. "How have you been?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" He bit into a burger. "I mean," he said between bites, "of the two of us, you've been the patient."

"Yeah." She slumped some in her seat. "I wasn't too sick to talk on the phone though." Her eyes narrowed somewhat on his. "Or have visitors."

Bryce winced. "Sorry about that, Chris. I guess I didn't know what to say or do?"

"Really?" Her eyes narrowed more.

How often had she stressed to him within the past year that he was important to her, that she wanted to be with him. Then when he wouldn't say he wanted that too and reverted back to calling her a friend, she gave in to trying something with Ethan.

Only for both men to keep her on a yoyo string to pull back and forth whenever they needed her.

What do I see in them to keep swallowing my pride and allowing them to basically use me for sex whenever they want?

Chris was fed up. The longer Bryce stammered about his busy schedule and not wanting to disturb her rest, the more she wanted to chunk the peanuts at his stupid, much too handsome face.

She didn't even want the damn things. Might as well use them as a quick release to her frustration.

Her fingers curled around the bag. Her bicep tightened in preparation to throw them, when Sienna walked up.

Her friend's excited hug and squeals of seeing her at work again were what saved Bryce's overly confident face.

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming back?!" Sienna sat down next to her. "I would have made celebration pancakes this morning!"

Chris couldn't stop from smiling. She could always depend on Sienna's sweetness to boost her mood.

"I didn't really decide until you had left for work. Then Farley came by to check on me and he wasn't feeling too good..."

She continued to tell her about his diagnosis of lime disease.

"Hate to break this up, but I have to get ready for surgery." Bryce smiled at them both. "Take it easy, Valentine. I don't want to have to operate on you next."

Chris bit back a bitter retort that he better hope she needed surgery. It would be his only chance to catch her naked again.

"Meet us at Donahue's later!" Sienna shouted. "We will celebrate Chris being back."

"There's no need." Chris began.

"Yes, there is!" Sienna squeezed another hug out of her. "My best friend is back with us and I'm over the moon about it!"

Bryce smirked at her. "She's right. We have to celebrate our friend's return."

Our friend. Chris despised the word, friend. Why did she keep placing her hope on him seeing her as something more than a mere friend?

And to make things worse, Ethan walked past.

"Dr. Ramsey!" Sienna called out before Chris could stop her. "Come have a drink with us tonight in honor of Chris's return!"

Ethan hesitated. That action nearly earned him peanuts in his much too handsome face too.

Gawd, I hate that look. The sad, yearning eyes. The slight frown. Man up and either say you want to date me or leave me alone for good! This back and forth is killing me worse than the poison did.

"Where at?" Ethan finally asked.

"Donahue's." Sienna beamed when he said he would try and stop by on his way home.

Chris mumbled a goodbye as Bryce left and Ethan headed off to find something to eat.

"Who else should we invite? I know Rafe is still too sick to get out." Sienna tapped her fingers on the table while scrolling through her contacts. "We can invite the rest of the diagnostic team and Ines and--"

"I'll send an invite to Tobias." Chris decided.

"Tobias? Who's...oh!" Sienna's eyes widened. "Dr. Carrick, right?"

"Yeah." Chris sent a text to him before she could think too much about it. "He did rush over with Aurora to try and save my life."

"I thought he was the enemy?" Sienna whispered while her eyes cut to Ethan. "Don't they have bad blood between them?"

"Something like that." Chris grumbled. "They can get over it."

Her phone vibrated with Tobias's response.

You want me to come deep into Edenbrook territory for a drink?

She snorted while answering.

Too scared, huh? And here I was longing for your company.

Well hell, Chris. I've never been able to refuse someone longing for my company. I'll be there. Just make sure no one sticks a scalpel in my back.

Don't worry. I'll protect you.

My hero.

Sienna leaned over, her eyes growing larger with each of their responses.

"Oh my gosh! You like Tobias!"

Chris's smile disappeared. "I don't hate him. But like like him? No."

"You're flirting in your texts!" Sienna giggled. "That is so cute. I haven't see you like this since our first year with--" she clapped a hand over her mouth.

"Uh huh." Chris pushed her chair back. "Anyway, I'll see you after work." She patted her friend's shoulder as she walked away. "Don't worry, I'm not upset with you over the name you almost said."

"Yeah, but." Sienna chased after her. "There is also another person who is interested in you."

"If you mean the one I think, then no. He made it perfectly clear this morning that we can't."

"No!" Sienna wrapped a comforting arm around Chris. "Why not?"

"He's still my boss." Chris mumbled. "And he won't abuse that. No matter how often he gives in to temptation."

"I think he's in love with you." Sienna whispered.

"Not enough to be with me." Chris grumbled.

#choices the royal romance #choices red carpet diaries #choices open heart #sneak peek #upcoming series #choices fanfiction #rcd thomas hunt #trr liam #oh ethan ramsey #oh bryce lahela #oh tobias carrick

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nvvermore · 3 years

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Angel of Music

Beatrice’s vocal lessons with Amaryllis begin, and the both of them learn much more during these lessons than they’d ever expected to

words: 9k~

Amaryllis’s POV by me/Beatrice’s POV by @juliandev0rak

—

Unfortunately for Amaryllis, Beatrice was a good student.

It sounded like a silly thing to lament over, but it was easy for a good student to sniff out a bad teacher. So, Amaryllis needed to work extra hard to appear as natural as possible in such a position. It didn’t help that yesterday Nadia had also informed them that Beatrice happened to be a teacher herself. Not versed in music, but there had to be a method to these things that it was clear they would be missing.

She’d come prepared, with a journal for notes, water, and even mentioned she took time to practice last night. Despite her outward anxiety, it was clear Beatrice felt excited. But, her attitude didn’t change Amaryllis’s unpreparedness. So far, they had been improvising, banking on her lack of experience and their charisma to fill in the blanks. They were nothing if not an actor.

Now, the two had finished discussing Beatrice’s experience level, as never having had an instructor meant very little. Amaryllis never had one either and they were doing fine. That detail they left out though. But she was proficient on the piano and had a secure grasp on reading music, and had sung for fun her entire life.

Amaryllis stood from the chaise where the two had been sitting side by side. They held out a hand to Beatrice, whose eyes flashed from their face to the offered hand before taking it. Without thought, their thumb brushed over the back of her hand, her skin soft to the touch. As soon as she was on her feet she pulled away, and Amaryllis mourned the loss.

“An important part of singing is remembering your whole body is the instrument. You need to be mindful of your entire being. It may sound difficult, but with practice it will become second nature.” Amaryllis explains as they watch Beatrice watch them. Her hazel eyes dart away when the two make eye contact.

“First step to a session is to stretch. You want your body to be loose, especially your torso. Follow after me.” Amaryllis raises their arms above their head, stretching their shoulders. “Hold for thirty,” They instruct, looking to Beatrice for understanding. Though instead of stretching, she’s starting again. This time, her gaze is on the hem of their dress, where it’s ridden up due to the stretching. The already risqué length had become even more revealing, pale skin a striking contrast to their dark outfit.

“See something you like?” The taunt snaps Beatrice out of it, and her hands nervously dart to the clasp of her cloak. “That seems a little heavy, perhaps you'd like to take it off?”

“Ah, um, yes! Of course.” her fingers stop their fiddling to undo the clasp, and she slips off the garment and hangs it on the back of a chair. Now, it’s Amaryllis’s turn to stare. Sans-cloak, Beatrice is in a light-colored lace gown. It was modest— especially compared to Amaryllis— but not any less mesmerizing. Beatrice catches them staring and they do nothing to hide that they were, lips quirked into a sly grin. She clears her throat, eager to continue.

“So what exactly is the reasoning for loosening up?”

“Tension in your body puts strain on your muscles, including the ones used in signing. When that happens, your ability and range gets cut a significant amount. Proper posture goes hand in hand with relaxation. One can have the most beautiful voice, but it all falls apart if they’re holding themself wrong.”

Together, they finish up the basic stretches, and Amaryllis retreats to the piano. They finger out a simple scale a few times over, ruby eyes never leaving Beatrice.

“Sing for me.“

An inhale, a shaky exhale, and then she begins to vocalize. She’s very quiet, Amaryllis can hardly hear her over the sound of the piano. But they smile at her and nod, a small push of encouragement. Little by little, she loosens up, growing louder as they go through the scales. Moving up and down in octaves until they pass Beatrice’s range. Her voice is light and airy, ethereal despite the hesitation behind it. An impressive high range, and that was with no breath control practice. When they told her yesterday they'd make her into a prima donna, it had been to tease. But now they’ve heard her, Amaryllis thought it might not be an impossible feat.

Amaryllis ceases their playing. Still watching Beatrice, they could pick up on the subtle tremors that ran through her. She was doing her very best to be discreet in regards to her nerves. They stood from the bench to direct her to sit back down on the chaise, fetching water for her in the process. As she drank it down, Amaryllis fought the impulse to brush her hair back out of her face. The urge to comfort her with any touch. But they didn't know how such a gesture would be received, and the unusual desire to do so brought them discomfort.

“You have a beautiful voice,” their soft complement breaks through the silence. Beatrice looked at them with wide eyes, expression flattered and confused all at once. “It’s true. Right now, your biggest setback is your nerves, and that will fade in time. But the tension you carry because of it can create pitch issues.”

“Oh,” Beatrice whispers, voice trailing off as she takes in the information. Her mouth opens to finish her thought, but loses her words when Amaryllis’s hand is on her chin. They tilt her head up to look at them, the same way they'd done so yesterday.

“You should always accept a compliment as if you truly believe it. That way, one day, you will.”

“I-”

“Your voice is beautiful.” Beatrice looks torn, face flushed and Amaryllis can tell she wants to glance away from them so badly. But she doesn't, and they stand over her patiently while she finds the resolve they know she has.

“Thank you.” Her voice is steady, and while Amaryllis knows it's not likely she believes it yet, it's certainly a good start. Satisfied, their thumb brushes across Beatrice’s jaw before pulling away. They don't watch for any reaction, deciding they've maybe pushed her a bit too much already. Standing across the room now, they decide to get back to the actual vocal lesson.

“Now that I've heard you sing without any corrections, let's go over what exactly we'll work on together.”

The rest of the lesson passes faster than Amaryllis wanted it to. They go over breath control and pitch issues, how to practice and how to work the areas she needed to in particular. Beatrice was attentive, asked careful questions and took detailed notes. The next time Amaryllis had her sing she did so with a little less hesitance. Their own hesitance surrounding teaching faded too. It felt less like they were teacher and student, and more like they were having a conversation. Before they knew it, two hours had passed, and didn’t want to keep Beatrice any longer. Even if a persistent part of their mind said they did.

“Well, It's about time you gave your voice a rest. I‘d consider this first session a great success.” Beatrice stood a few feet away from where Amaryllis sat on the bench. She looked almost disappointed at the concept of the lesson’s conclusion. Glancing around the room, her eyes landed on the grandfather clock in the corner.

“Ah, I suppose you are correct,” her hands darted to where her cloak normally sat. When she found it missing, her fingers faltered. “So how often do you think I should have lessons?”

“Weekly will be best. Much of the progress you're going to make will happen during practice. And as long as you take time to do so each day, you'll see it in little time. But if you have questions or need assistance outside of lessons, you know where to find me.” Amaryllis retrieved their grimoire from the piano lid as Beatrice gathered her things. The green cloak resumed its place on her shoulders, and Amaryllis felt endeared by the quirk. Together, they made for the doors.

“Amaryllis, I,” Beatrice began once they exited the room, “I’d like to thank you. I never thought I'd ever take lessons, let alone ones from you.” The admiration of others rarely phased them, it was another aspect of their everyday. But Beatrice’s gratitude made them feel something unlike any kind they’d received before.

“The pleasure is all mine. You're a very promising student after all.”

“Thank you,” she said with the same conviction as she did after Amaryllis’s complement earlier. Feeling a sense of pride, they smiled at her, genuine.

“Have a good evening, Beatrice.”

⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯

Beatrice shows up to the next lesson early, notebook and water in hand. She tries the door to the practice room and finds it locked, so she sinks down onto the floor to sit and wait. She’s just pulled her notebook out of her bag and is reviewing her notes from last week when she hears the now familiar sound of Amaryllis’ heels approaching down the hallway. She hurriedly stuffs the notebook back into her bag just as Amaryllis turns the corner. “Well hello,” Amaryllis smiles, offering their hand to help Beatrice up, “Need a hand?”

“Oh, yes thank you,” Beatrice takes their hand, trying not to seem too eager as she reaches for them. She lets go of their hand as soon as she’s up, not wanting to make things awkward by lingering.

“Shall we begin?” Amaryllis says, holding the door open for her. She sets her bag down on the chaise and takes her cloak off, not noticing the way Amaryllis watches her from across the room. Her hands go to her clothes, making sure her blouse is tucked in properly and fluffing the fabric of her skirt to make sure it lays flat. She takes a sip of water, a deep breath, and turns to face Amaryllis.

This lesson starts better than the last. Beatrice is less nervous now that she knows what to expect, now that she knows that Amaryllis is both a good teacher and a kind person. She hadn’t expected ridicule by any means, but hearing genuine compliments from them had made her both slightly giddy and a lot more confident. Beatrice loves to learn and if she simply treats these lessons as just that, a lesson, a chance to learn something, she’ll be fine.

As she sings through a few warm up exercises her eyes follow Amaryllis as they play the piano. They seem to notice her staring at them and look up to meet her eyes, causing Beatrice to falter on the note. She tries to recover from the mistake quickly but Amaryllis stops playing and stands up from the piano bench, taking a step towards her.

“You’re too tense again,” Amaryllis explains, their hands going to her shoulders to gently push them down from where she’d lifted them as she'd sung, “Relax your shoulders, remember what I said about tension and stress?”

“Yes, I remember,” Beatrice smiles, willing her voice to stay steady and her shoulders not to shake under their touch. Amaryllis returns the smile as their left hand gently moves further down her shoulder. They fiddle with the ruffle on her sleeve briefly before removing both of their hands and taking a step away from her. Beatrice breathes in sharply in response and tries to ignore the feeling of her sleeves pressing against her arms just as Amaryllis’ fingers had been

“You’re doing very well, Beatrice. Just relax,” Amaryllis says as they return to their place at the piano bench. She’s grateful that they’re busy shuffling through sheet music and can’t see the way her cheeks color at the praise. They start to play one of the songs she’d sung last week and nod at her to begin.

Beatrice makes it through with only minor mistakes but she still can’t seem to focus when Amaryllis looks up from the piano to watch her. She messes up words, sings off key, and even sometimes grows so quiet she can’t be heard until Amaryllis looks away. She struggles to fight against these reactions, deciding to stare at a spot on the wall behind them so that she won’t notice Amaryllis looking at her. It seems to work and the next run through of the song goes more smoothly.

During a water break Beatrice gives herself a pep talk, reminding herself that this is simply a lesson, something she can learn to excel at if she follows the rules. The reminder gives her some resolve and she’s able to focus her attention on singing rather than her (very distracting) teacher. As she sings she remembers to breathe and relax her shoulders, she tries to tune out everything but the notes from the piano. She hits a note she’d struggled to hit the week before and smiles in surprise. Her eyes float down from their safe spot on the wall to look at Amaryllis, who watches them with an unreadable expression on their face before it fades into something more neutral.

“That was great!” Amaryllis says, “Let’s do that part again to see if you can hit the note twice in a row.”

The lesson moves quickly once she’s able to focus, and before she knows it Beatrice is pulling her cloak back on and preparing to leave. She stands by the door for a moment, watching as Amaryllis gathers their sheet music. Though the sight of them still makes her a bit nervous, the feeling has faded from self consciousness to something else, something she doesn’t quite want to think about yet.

“You’ve improved since last week,” Amaryllis says, turning around to face her. They give her an encouraging smile and Beatrice meets their eyes, for once managing not to blush as they gaze at her.

“You think so?” Beatrice asks, returning the smile.

“You’re a very quick learner when you’re using that brain of yours to focus instead of overthinking,” Amaryllis replies, their smile turning into more of a smirk. Beatrice does blush then, laughing under her breath as she stares down at her boots.

“Yes, well, I’m working on it,” She says, fiddling with the closure on her overstuffed bag, “I’m glad to hear I’m improving.”

“You really are, just make sure to practice so you can remember everything you’ve learned this week.” Amaryllis holds the door open for her, gesturing for her to walk out before them. She suddenly feels like she should say something else, the lesson had come to a close too quickly.

“Amaryllis,” Beatrice starts, wondering what she should even say. Should she ask them if they’re going to dinner at the palace? Should she suggest going somewhere else together? No. Surely Amaryllis sees her as nothing more than a student, or maybe a friend if she’s lucky. There’s no guarantee Amaryllis would want to spend more time with her than is necessary, so she changes course, “Thanks again.”

“You’re very welcome. I’ll see you next week, Beatrice,” Amaryllis replies, turning to walk down the hall.

Beatrice watches them go, trying not to let her eyes linger in places they shouldn’t. Amaryllis’ tight dress leaves nothing to the imagination, and if Beatrice is being honest she has been imagining. She clears her throat and turns the other direction, headed back to the safety of the palace proper. It’ll be a long week waiting to see them again.

⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯

“It’s impressive,” Beatrice comments one day, in the middle of a lesson.

“What’s impressive?” They hadn’t been discussing anything in particular, so it seemed out of place.

“The dedication you have for your craft, all the effort you put into it. And I'm sure I don't even know the half of it.” As she explained, Beatrice sounded composed, but her rosy cheeks gave her away.

Amaryllis blinked, somewhat stunned, though they gave no outward indication of it. They had already recognized that hearing praise from Beatrice felt different somehow. But since their lessons had begun, the flutter they felt when she did so had only grown.

“Please,” Amaryllis waved a dismissive hand, “when you've been at it for as long as I have, it’s hardly any effort at all.”

“You know, I recall you telling me a few weeks ago to, ‘always accept a compliment as if you truly believe it’.”

Beatrice’s words paired with the smug air she said them with caught Amaryllis by surprise. For a split-second, all they could do was stare at her. Being called out for deflection, with their own words, was unexpected from her. As they'd known Beatrice thus far, it was uncharacteristic. And so was their own delight at the notion Beatrice was becoming more comfortable with them. Recovered, they propped their elbows back on the piano, leaning back against it.

All Amaryllis could think of was different ways they'd like to wipe the smirk off her rose-tinted lips. They favored the concept of doing so with their own mouth.

“Do you now?” they mimicked her attitude, cocky expression falling into place as easy as breathing. Easier, even. “I hope you’ve been practicing that part of my lessons too. I’m sure you get enough compliments to do so.” At least, Amaryllis hoped she did, that at least someone was out there taking the time to cherish her. Instead of the bashful reaction they had been hoping for, Beatrice frowned.

“Ah, not usually, no-“

“That’s a shame,” they cut her off, stepping away from the piano to stand before her. Being this close made that flutter Amaryllis was feeling speed up. The last thing they wanted was for Beatrice to frown. And if no one else was taking the time to tell her all the sweet things she should hear, they were more than happy to step up. Accepting compliments built confidence, and confidence was vital to singing. It was simply another part of the lesson, that was all. With a gentle hand, Amaryllis brushed tawny waves out of her face, keeping her from hiding behind them now. “With how lovely you are, I had expected there'd be someone to shower you with sweet words."

Voice low and velvety, they ran their fingers down her cheek. Nails just barely grazing her neck before their hand pulled away. Beatrice wasn't frowning anymore, but was watching them with wide-eyed astonishment. For a moment, Amaryllis's resolve faltered.

They thought about kissing her, it would only take another step, a tilt of her head. But, what actually shocked Amaryllis is that they did not. Instead, as swift as they had approached, they were back against the piano.

Beatrice was their student, and so it would be improper to persue her...

…Which didn’t hold up in the slightest, because never in their life had they cared about what was proper or not. Student or not, under typical circumstances, Amaryllis would have had her in their bed by now. But that was it, wasn’t it? That nothing concerning Beatrice was at all typical. From their opposition to simply seducing her to their reactions to the things that she did. Amaryllis couldn’t recall a time when they’d felt this way before.

They had decided to entertain their intrigue when they offered her lessons. But Amaryllis hadn’t imagined that it would shift in the direction they were afraid it was heading.

“Thank you,” her breathy voice pulled them back into the room. It took them a second to realize she was thanking them for the compliment. Beatrice was biting her lip, watching them with those hazel eyes they couldn’t quite get a read on.

All they could do was turn away from her, but not before they could hide away their smile. Amaryllis tried to stay focused on the lesson, and not on the dangerous territory they were heading into.

⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯

They’ve done more talking than singing, Beatrice realizes as she looks at the clock. It’s been an hour since the lesson started and they’ve been sitting on the couch talking the entire time, neither realizing how much time has passed. The topics of conversation have ranged, what began as small talk about the rainy weather had evolved into how they’d each come to be employed at the palace. Amaryllis doesn’t give many details, but Beatrice drinks in every piece of their story she can get and tries to ignore the urge to pry.

Over the course of the hour Beatrice has loosened up considerably, her posture is slouched and her legs are tucked under her as she sits criss cross on the couch rather than her usual polite ankle cross. She’s surprised to find how easy it is to talk to Amaryllis, how easily she can let her guard down to talk about herself more than she usually would. When Amaryllis asks a question she finds herself answering without thinking. They seem genuinely interested in her answers, leaning towards her as she speaks and asking follow up questions.

“What made you want to teach?” Amaryllis asks, their voice pulling her gaze back from the clock on the wall.

“Well, I never had a real education as a child, I learned manners and needlepoint and all sorts of useless things like that, but science, literature, history- everything I know I’ve learned on my own,” Beatrice explains, her voice rising in volume as it often does when she’s excited, “Vesuvia doesn’t offer an education for those who can’t afford to pay tutors, and I think that should change.”

“So you just marched up to the Countess and suggested opening a school?” Amaryllis grins, their eyes trained to Beatrice’s face which is for once free of any hint of anxiety as she smiles proudly at them. The image of Beatrice stomping up the palace steps in her green cloak with a look of determination on her face makes Amaryllis suppress a laugh.

“Believe it or not, I did! I requested a meeting and left less than an hour later to pick a spot to build the school,” Beatrice laughs, “Nadia wasn’t difficult to convince.”

“I’m sure you can be very convincing when you want to be,” Amaryllis says, reaching to play with the lace trim at the bottom of her dress. Beatrice watches the action closely, not pulling away when their hand briefly brushes against her leg. “Well, I suppose we should get started on the singing lesson, we’ve delayed quite a bit.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Beatrice nearly trips over her dress as she gets up from the chaise.

“You have nothing to apologize for, I very much enjoyed getting to know you better,” Amaryllis replies, smoothing their clothing down as they walk across the room to the piano.

“I enjoyed it too,” Beatrice smiles, “getting to know you.”

“I should have you play sometime, I remember you being quite proficient during our first lesson,” Amaryllis says as they take their seat at the instrument.

“Well, I’m afraid I’m not very accomplished anymore. I wish I had more time to practice the piano, but there are only so many hours in a day,” Beatrice replies, taking her usual spot standing next to them.

“Would you like to play something now?” Amaryllis suggests, patting the spot next to them on the piano bench, “I’m sure you’re great.”

“Oh, well, sure if you’d like to hear me play,” Beatrice hesitates for a moment before she takes a seat next to them, trying to smooth her dress down a bit so she doesn’t take up too much room on the bench. Amaryllis smiles and moves a bit closer so that their leg is pressed to hers, she can feel the warmth of their skin through the fabric of her dress and works hard to regain her composure.

“I would love to hear you play,” Amaryllis says directly into her ear, their mouth barely brushing against her skin. She manages to only shiver the tiniest bit as Amaryllis leans away from her again, turning their attention back to the piano. Beatrice takes an only slightly shaky breath and reaches for the keys. Her fingers pluck a familiar tune, one she’d learned when she was younger and forced to sit through hours of lessons every day. She shuts her eyes as she plays it by memory, tuning out Amaryllis next to her and the distracting ticking of the clock on the wall behind her.

When she finishes the song, a short piece designed more for practice than performance, she pulls her hands back into her lap and looks up at Amaryllis to gauge their reaction. The smile on their face is different than any Beatrice has seen before. It has more emotion behind it, admiration perhaps, and she feels a flutter in her stomach at the thought.

“That was lovely, Beatrice. I thought you said you were out of practice? That sounded well practiced to me,” Amaryllis laughs, the smile replaced by their usual expression.

“Thank you. I used to hate that song so much, it would get stuck in my head for hours and I’d find myself playing the notes in the air all the time like some sort of compulsion,” Beatrice sighs, her fingers flexing in her lap at the memory, “But I’m glad the torment payed off.”

“Well I’ll stop torturing you then,” Amaryllis jokes, bumping Beatrice slightly off the piano bench with their hip, “I think we’ll leave the piano to me for now, let’s begin the lesson.”

⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯

Amaryllis’s fingers still on the keys of the piano as the song comes to an end. Beatrice’s singing was lovely— as always— but something was off. What, they weren’t exactly sure. The warm up went fine, she didn’t seem stiff or nervous in the slightest, and minimal issues with her pitch. She’d taken a breath or two at a bad moment, and at one point a whole note became a half, but neither of those were serious.

They realize that they may just be projecting their feelings onto her. A comment of hers from before had been bothering Amaryllis, much more than it should have. Beatrice’s anecdote about having no say in performing a song that she hated had struck close to home. Literally.

Beatrice had never given any indication that she was unhappy with the music they chose for her. But Amaryllis had never directly asked her what she wanted to sing either.

“Amaryllis, is everything alright?” Beatrice spoke up. Suddenly they realized they hadn’t said a word in the time since the song had concluded. There was a nervous edge to her voice, the tone making an unwelcome appearance for the first time in weeks.

“Yes, I apologize,” they stood from the bench, feeling the sudden urge to move.

“Is there, um, a problem?” Her words were hesitant, uneasy. When Amaryllis turned to her, Beatrice's eyes were downcast, focused on the carpet.

“Oh, ma chérie, no. You were wonderful, don’t worry.” The endearment had slipped out without thought. Bringing a hand to her back, Amaryllis ushered her over to sit with them. They felt uneasy, but maintained their composure, focused on how soft the satin of her dress felt.

“Sorry, I-” Amaryllis faltered. Their hand was still at her back, lower now, and as much as they longed to leave it there they knew they shouldn't. Not only was the gesture a little too friendly, but feeling how thin her dress seemed to be was distracting. “I’d like to ask, what kind of music do you want to sing?”

Once Beatrice had taken in their question, she relaxed, taking a moment to consider her answer.

“I suppose whatever kind suits my voice best?” She sounded uncertain, and her hazel eyes flitting back to the ground was a confirmation. Amaryllis was having none of that.

“Ah,” their hand came up to her chin, tilting her gaze back to them, “that’s not how this works.” The two were close, but not quite as close as they had been at the piano bench last week. As Amaryllis looked down at her, the rose-colored lipstick she wore caught their eye. They gave into the temptation to stare, for a little too long.

Amaryllis is back to the same dilemma as they had been weeks ago. They wanted to kiss her, wanted to see the color on her lips smeared and mixed with their own. It was the same conundrum, but it had grown far more complicated than it had been weeks ago.

They dreaded the conclusion of their lessons, and counted the days until the next one. And between lessons they’d started seeing each other much more often during the rest of the week. During court functions and other meetings, Amaryllis had found themself in Beatrice's company. They ran into each other in the halls of the palace— literally, one time— and when on stage they looked for her in the crowd. She was never difficult to spot.

As of late, their compositions reflected their feelings. Even inspiration for the masquerade came easy, knowing she'd be in that crowd too.

Amaryllis wanted her. But now, they wanted far more than a kiss or a single night, and not in the way they were familiar with wanting someone. Wanted to hold her hand, wanted to listen to her ramble, wanted to sing with her. Wanted to know her, and had even contemplated letting her know them in return.

But they couldn’t let themself. It was foolish— to be afraid of the feelings and to have them at all in the first place. In some ways, it felt like something of a betrayal. Beatrice had trusted Amaryllis to instruct her, not to fall for her.

Finally, they avert their gaze, torn to see Beatrice watching them with a similar longing. It would have been far easier to lean into her instead of pulling themself away completely. Even if Amaryllis knew she'd be receptive, they had to have some self-preservation. They knew it wouldn’t be enough to just take what they could get from her. It would be better to let the infatuation fade than feed the fire; it would hurt far less.

“Passion is far more important.” Amaryllis leans back against the chaise. “Doing what’s ‘technically’ correct means nothing if it's not what makes you happy. Singing for the sake of arbitrary rules will only bring you dread.” They're familiar with the way it feels to lose your passion, and the trauma of it was a deep-seated pain. Beatrice’s brow creases as they speak, picking up on what their insistence indicates. “So when I ask you what you’d like to sing, I need you to answer with how you feel.”

“I’d like to sing things that I can find meaning in. The song we’ve been working on, it’s beautiful, but I can’t relate to it no matter how I attempt to interpret it. Coming from me it feels insincere.”

“I may have something in particular you'd like.” The words are out before Amaryllis can even grasp what exactly they were deciding to offer. But they couldn't take it back now, not with the delighted way Beatrice was looking at them.

Without standing, they motion in the air, and their grimoire soars over from where it had placed on the piano. Amaryllis sets the book of music before them. With their hands on the cover, they whisper the incantation that unlocks it.

Beatrice had scooted forward, leaning in, but still far enough for her to pretend she wasn't being nosy. Amaryllis knew she must have a billion questions, and they would happily listen to her voice each one. But, she only asked one.

“What is it about?”

It was a simple question, but not one with a simple answer. That was why Amaryllis had written it into a song after all. Emotions and experiences were too difficult for them to express in a usual manner. If their feelings were to be expressed at all, they had to do so in a different way.

“You’ll see,” they left it at that, casting the projection spell for the piano. Sitting up straight, Amaryllis rolled their shoulders back, and began to sing.

The lyrics they sang painted the picture of a neglected child. The intense sorrow they felt. What they dreamed of to help them through each day. The helplessness that came when they realized the dreams were only that. Dreams, and nothing more.

With a final, shaky note, they looked to Beatrice. She was silent, lips parted and eyes glassy. For a moment, Amaryllis worries they'd upset her, but then she reaches out to rest her hand on their knee.

“Amaryllis, that was beautiful,” she blinks away the tears that had threatened to fall. “You’d trust me to sing that?”

“Of course,” they place their hand over hers.

“Then, I’d love to.”

⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯

Beatrice wakes up groggily, rolling over in bed only to come face to face with a rabbit staring directly at her. “Oh, good morning, Bramble,” she says, reaching to scratch the rabbit between her ears. She winces at the sound of her voice, it sounds scratchy and her throat hurts a bit when she swallows. She decides to test her voice again, “Shall we get some breakfast?” it’s definitely still scratchy.

She worries as she goes about her morning routine, wondering if she’ll be able to sing at all later. She’s been practicing in all of her spare moments, and perhaps that’s why she has no voice left for her real practice. Still, work doesn’t stop for a lost voice and she has a meeting with Nadia in an hour so she clasps her cloak, grabs her bag, and starts the trek across town.

When she arrives in Nadia’s parlor, a prompt five minutes early, she realizes how winded she feels. The moment she opens her mouth to greet Nadia she knows she might really be in trouble.

“Good morning,” She croaks, pasting a cheerful smile on her face in the hopes of distracting the Countess.

“Oh dear, Beatrice are you feeling alright? You sound quite ill,” Nadia says, looking worried as she stands in the doorway regarding her.

“I’m fine, just a sore throat,” Beatrice replies, holding back a wince as her throat grates.

‘You don’t sound fine, I believe you should go home and rest. You’re in no position to give a presentation this morning,” Nadia’s tone of voice brooks no argument and Beatrice hangs her head a bit as she tries to think of a way to convince her. Beatrice doesn’t take days off, certainly not for a sore throat. “I shall have a servant get you a carriage.”

“I’m fine, really! Don’t go to the trouble,” She pleads, but Nadia simply shakes her head and points to the doorway.

“Go home, take some time to rest, Beatrice,” Nadia says kindly. Beatrice sighs and starts to gather her things, there’s no use, Nadia’s right. She can barely make an audible sound, there’s nothing to do but wait for her voice to come back.

As Beatrice heads to the Palace gates she’s so lost in her thoughts that she doesn’t think about her lesson with Amaryllis. She all but forgets about it until she spots a familiar maroon haired figure approaching from across the foyer.

“Beatrice, you’re here early,” Amaryllis says, looking equal parts bemused and excited to see her.

“I was just leaving,” Beatrice rasps, “ Lost my voice,”

“Yes I should say you have,” Amaryllis frowns, putting a hand on Beatrice’s forehead as if to check for a fever. She stares at them wide-eyed as they deliberate and finally pull their hand away. “Does your throat hurt as well?”

“Yes,” She says, “I’m sorry, I don’t think I can sing today.”

“No, I don’t think you can. You should go home and rest, you’ve been practicing too much,” They reply, they’re still stooped down a bit to meet her eyes and Beatrice finds it hard to focus with them this close to her.

“I’m sorry,” Beatrice manages to say, feeling terrible from the pain and because she’ll be missing out on a lesson.

Beatrice thinks back to their last lesson, the way Amaryllis had opened up to her and allowed her to listen to their music. She doesn’t want to miss another chance at that closeness, both emotional and physical. There had been times over the last few weeks where Beatrice could have sworn Amaryllis might kiss her. They’d stared directly at her lips, only a slight tilt of the head away from meeting her lips with their own. But it hadn't happened, and it never will, Beatrice reminds herself. Amaryllis is her teacher, and though they’ve begun to spend more time together outside of lessons she’s sure it’s out of friendly obligation and nothing more.

“Don’t apologize to me, apologize to your poor vocal chords.” Amaryllis straightens up to their full height and takes a step back from her. They seem to be deep in thought for a moment before almost hesitantly adding, “Go home, I’ll bring you some tea to help with your throat.”

“Oh, you really don’t have to do that,” Beatrice protests, her face already flushing at the thought of them being so concerned for her.

“Stop talking, you’ll make things worse,” Amaryllis says, “It’s the building on the corner by the hat shop, yes?” Beatrice is a little surprised that Amaryllis remembers where she lives, she’d only mentioned it once in passing a few weeks ago.

“Yes,” Beatrice starts, but at Amaryllis’ stern look she shuts her mouth and nods instead.

“Now go rest,” They say, red lips pulling into their characteristic smile, “I’ll be by later.”

When she gets home Beatrice kicks her boots off and changes into something comfortable. She chugs a glass of water but it’s too cold and burns the whole way down. It might just be her throat that hurts, but she finds herself quite tired. She’d refused the carriage ride home, deeming it unnecessary, and the walk back home had taken her longer than usual. She wants to take a nap, but if Amaryllis is coming by later she wants to make sure her house is tidy first.

After a quick speed clean, which she might’ve used some magic to do more quickly, she collapses into bed. What feels like five minutes later there's a knock on the door and she sits up with a start, hurriedly smoothing her hair down as she goes to answer the door. She holds her breath a little as she opens the door, seeing Amaryllis standing in her doorway is not a sight she’d ever expected to see.

“Hello,” Amaryllis smiles as they take in Beatrice standing before them in her socks and a simple tunic, so different from her usual fancy clothing. She fidgets uncomfortably under their gaze, “Aren’t you going to invite me in?” They raise an eyebrow, and Beatrice rushes to open the door wider for them to enter.

“You didn’t have to come all this way,” She says hoarsely, watching as Amaryllis looks around her apartment. It’s not large, just the living area and a separate bedroom and bathroom off of a hallway. She’s glad she’d tidied before Amaryllis arrived, they’re used to Palace accommodations, and her little home in Center City certainly isn’t that.

“I took a carriage, it took no time at all,” Amaryllis replies, taking a small pouch of tea leaves out of their bag. “The coachman said you decided to walk, why would you do that when you were already feeling unwell?”

The question takes Beatrice off guard and she watches as Amaryllis walks into her kitchen like they live there, filling her kettle with water and setting it to boil. “It was unnecessary,” she responds when they turn around to look at her, “I didn’t need anyone to go to the trouble on my behalf.”

“If someone offers to help you, let them help you,” Amaryllis says, their face gone serious as they work to prepare the tea. “And it’s no trouble to take care of someone who’s always taking care of others.”

They look a bit taken aback at their own words and immediately turn their back to Beatrice as they pour the tea. Though she wonders at their reaction it gives Beatrice a chance to take a deep breath and rid herself of the blush on her face. When Amaryllis turns around they’re brandishing a teacup, Beatrice’s favorite though they couldn’t have known that.

“Do you have any honey? It’ll help your throat even more,” They ask. Beatrice nods and goes to the cupboard next to them, reaching on her tiptoes to grab the jar of honey from the back. Amaryllis watches her with a smirk as she manages to reach it and hands the jar to them.

“What tea is that?” Beatrice asks, taking in the slightly familiar aroma.

“It’s ginger tea, now sit,” They point to the couch in the middle of the room, “And drink.”

Beatrice takes the cup from them, trying not to react to their fingers brushing hers, and takes a seat. The tea tastes better than she thought it would, and the honey makes it sweet enough for her to actually enjoy. Amaryllis sits on the opposite end of the couch and watches as she sips the tea. She holds back a sigh as the warm beverage soothes her throat.

“I think you need to cut down on how much you’re practicing. You also need to take more frequent vocal breaks to rest, and I’m leaving this tea with you. You should have some after you practice,” Amaryllis says. Beatrice nods and continues to drink her tea, not wanting to interrupt their instruction. Amaryllis moves a bit closer to her and Beatrice turns towards them, nearly losing her grip on the teacup when they reach out to twist their finger around one of the curls that hangs near her face. Though she’s grown more used to their casual touches over time, she still finds herself flustered by how delicately they brush the lock of hair behind her ear.

“You’re making a lot of progress, Beatrice, but you shouldn’t push yourself so hard that you get hurt,” Amaryllis explains, their eyes locked to hers, “You need to take better care of your instrument.”

“I will,” Beatrice says in assurance. Her voice already sounds a bit better, and it didn’t hurt as much to speak. She smiles at the realization that the tea really had helped, and Amaryllis watches in amusement as Beatrice downs the rest of the cup like one would take a shot of alcohol.

“I need to get back for a performance tonight, promise me you’ll stay home and rest? If I see you at the Palace next week and you’re still croaking I’ll have to come up with something stronger, and it won’t be sweetened with honey,” Amaryllis threatens, but the smile on their face takes away from the effect.

“I promise,” Beatrice replies, holding her pinky out to theirs to make a pinky promise. Amaryllis stares at her finger for a moment before laughing under their breath and linking their pinky with hers.

“Good,” They stand up to gather their belongings and head towards the door, “Thanks for letting me visit your lovely home, I do hope I can make a return visit someday.”

“I hope so too,” Beatrice says, meeting their eyes for a moment before her eyes dart away to the bookcase next to them, something safer to stare at, “Thank you for the tea.”

“My pleasure, anything to help my favorite student,” Amaryllis smiles, dipping into a dramatic bow.

“As far as I know, I’m your only student,” Beatrice laughs, glad that the action didn’t seem to hurt her throat.

“Just take the compliment, Beatrice,” They say, opening the door, “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” She replies, but they’ve already shut the door behind them.

Beatrice makes herself another cup of ginger tea and considers writing Amaryllis a thank you note, it’s the least she can do. She gets to work, pulling out her special personalized stationery and her favorite golden ink. It takes her nearly fifteen minutes just to write their name, she tries to get the curve of the A just right, the y looped perfectly around the other letters. The actual contents of the note is short. There are lots of things she’d like to say to Amaryllis, and maybe someday she’ll get up the courage to do so, but for today she just says “thank you”.

She’d thought that writing the note might help her clear her head a bit, but when she tries to go to sleep she can’t stop the thoughts of Amaryllis. She thinks about the way Amaryllis had called her ma chérie last week, and how much she wants them to call her that again. She wants to hear more of their words spoken and sung only for her. Before she can help herself, Beatrice thinks about their lips again, bright red and so close to her own. Would it have been a mistake for her to have leaned in? Would Amaryllis have pushed her away or kissed her back?

She really needs to get over this infatuation. Even if Amaryllis had wanted to kiss her, it doesn’t mean they would want anything more. Just when she thinks Amaryllis is interested they take a step back, or they return to their calm and collected demeanor and the moment passes. Beatrice really doesn’t know what to make of their attention, their casual touches and lingering eye contact. She’s seen them flirt with others in the same way, it seems to be a facet of their personality to be familiar with people, and if that’s the case then what makes her any different?

Beatrice isn’t used to being treated like this. She’s not used to being told that she’s talented and pretty and full of potential, and though she believes their words to be genuine, she wonders if their time spent together means as much to Amaryllis as it does to her. She hopes it does.

⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯

“So, what’s going on today that has you so cheerful?” Amaryllis asks as they begin to tidy up the rehearsal room now that the lesson had concluded. They're more than content to linger, packing their bag with little haste.

“I'm usually cheerful,” Beatrice fights a grin, acting coy.

“Especially so today. It certainly reflected in your performance. Now that I think about it, the past few days you’ve seemed so excited.” Amaryllis had been thinking about it, giddy each time they’d run into her and the dazzling smile she had on display.

Beatrice avoided their gaze, eyes mischievous, and Amaryllis expected her to deflect again. “It’s my birthday today!”

“Oh! Happy birthday,” they smile, full of adoration, “are you doing anything to celebrate?”

“I’m staying here for dinner tonight. A gangly birdie let it slip that Nadia may have planned something special for me.”

“I suppose that means I’ll get to see you at dinner.” Beatrice glances up, surprised, and Amaryllis attempts to suppress a laugh. “I usually dine here, I live here after all. Though, I often take meals in my room, but it seems that tonight is a special occasion.”

“Oh, you don’t have to come to dinner just for me, I’m sure you’re busy-“

“I’d like to. That is, if you don’t mind having me there.”

“Amie, of course not!”

For a moment, all is silent, both surprised that she called Amaryllis by a nickname. Beatrice looks like she’s about to rush to apologize, but their smile beats her to it.

“Then I’ll be there." Once the nickname sunk in, their face lit up— despite their attempt to stay neutral— and told her there was no issue. Beatrice nods, her demure smile doing nothing to hide how pleased she really is.

The two say their farewells for now, leaving in different directions. Beatrice, they assume, is off to get ready for a dinner in her honor, and Amaryllis is off to find a fitting last-minute gift.

After an hour, Amaryllis was approaching the dining room. A little late, but dressed for dinner and with a carefully-crafted bouquet in hand. They might have gone overboard with their gift, but Beatrice didn’t need to know. The arrangement they'd selected looked simple, but the meanings each flower held were far from it.

First, they'd started with violets, paired with sprigs of laurel. Individually, violets represented modesty, and laurel was for success. Together, they were for expressing that you were proud of the recipient. And Amaryllis was so proud of Beatrice. Their first real meeting all those months ago she was a ball of nerves, when it came to singing and being around them. But now, she had made leaps and bounds with her singing, and felt comfortable enough to call them ‘Amie’.

Then, the cowslip caught their eye. It was for gracefulness, and they'd decided it was fitting. Beatrice was graceful, even when she tripped over herself or her words, there was a certain charm to it. Even when nervous she always made her best attempt, and the way she lit up when she was successful. To Amaryllis, she was the portrait of grace.

Of course, it spiraled into dangerous territory from there. The buttercups came next, 'you are radiant with charm', they revealed. And when paired with the cowslip, they were often given as tokens of new and blooming affection. Amaryllis couldn't say their affection was new, but it was blooming into something far past a fleeting crush.

Finally, Amaryllis added purple pansies into the mix. They told themself it was simply to balance out the two bunches of yellow flowers, but that was a lie. Pansies confessed ‘you occupy my thoughts’, and gods, did she. So often they thought of her; when composing, when performing, during the day, at night, in bed. It almost felt wrong, how often their mind strayed to her and in the ways that it did.

The blooms had been wrapped together in cream-colored paper and tied with a violet ribbon. Amaryllis hoped the delicate yellows and purples would be to her liking. They also hoped that gifting this bouquet full of secrets would be symbolic. That they'd be handing off their feelings like they were handing off the flowers.

The dining room doors opened, and their worry-free façade fell back into place.

“She’s been taking lessons from a great teacher,” catches Amaryllis’s ear as they enter. To the side is what looks to be the gift table, and they place the bouquet down. It was Portia, with all her enthusiasm that they'd heard. She was at the center of the table, alongside Nadia of course, with Beatrice seated on her other side.

“Ah, well-“

“Gossiping about me?” Amaryllis stopped behind their seats, interrupting and startling Beatrice in the process. Instinctively, they place a hand on her shoulder to steady her, surprised to feel bare skin. When Amaryllis glances down at her, they regret it immediately.

She’s dressed to the nines, cloak nowhere to be seen. All they see is cream lace and tulle that drapes off her shoulders, and the satin corset hugging her frame. They’re at a wonderful angle to witness exactly how flattering it is on her.

Before they could be considered staring, they look away. But as flushed as she is, they doubt Beatrice missed the way their eyes dragged over her body. Her smile is bright, and Amaryllis is a little dizzy at the idea that reaction was for them. They certainly could dream.

“Wait, you’ve been instructing her?” Asra questions from Beatrice’s other side.

“Why are you so surprised?” Amaryllis shrugs, nonchalant, strolling away to their seat. They were well aware this news was about to be the largest scandal in Vesuvian history. Their lessons weren’t a secret, but Amaryllis hadn’t gone out of their way to mention it, and it seemed Beatrice hadn't either.

“I recall bringing up the idea of you taking on students last year. And I recall you declining, claiming you weren’t ‘teacher material’.” Nadia comments as they pass.

Lucio can’t help but join in, complaints ready as Amaryllis takes their seat between him and Julian. “I’ve begged you for lessons, and you always told me no!”

“That’s because you’re tone deaf.”

“Wait, I’m tone deaf, but we sing together all the time?” Julian adds.

“You aren’t tone deaf, you have trouble matching pitch on your own. There’s a difference.”

They aren't close to Beatrice at all, on the complete opposite side of the table, but they can see her trying to listen in.

“So Amaryllis, what prompted your change of heart about teaching?” Nadia asks them.

“There’s been no change of heart, I’m still not interested,” Amaryllis sips their wine.

“Then why is Beatrice taking lessons from you?” Julian butts in from between them.

“She stumbled upon a rehearsal of mine weeks ago, and mentioned lessons. I thought I would offer,” another sip, “I could tell she was special.”

“Is that so?”

Amaryllis makes sure Beatrice is still eavesdropping, her eyes wide and curious. “Beatrice is a very promising student. If it were up to me, I’d have her on the stage by now.”

Nadia turns to her, and the countess begins to ask her about it. Of course, Amaryllis's ability to hear what she has to say is cut off by Lucio and Julian’s bickering.

Dinner as a whole passes with no more awe directed at them for their, admittedly, out of character actions. They were thankful to no longer be in the spotlight for the night, it wasn’t for them after all.

After dessert— Beatrice’s favorite cake, of course— Nadia suggests they all move to the veranda. Amaryllis stands, but takes their time joining everyone else, finishing off their wine. Somehow, they hadn’t noticed Beatrice still in the room until her hand is on their arm. It’s just the two of them now, and her touch is a welcome surprise. Beatrice’s smile is radiant as she looks up at them through long lashes. In her other hand is the bouquet.

“How did you know violets were my favorite?”

“I didn’t, actually,” she glances between the flowers and Amaryllis. “I’m relieved to know that I chose well.”

“You did. Thank you, Amie. They’re beautiful.”

“They pale in comparison to you,” it’s cliché, and easily passed off as Amaryllis’s typical flirting. Even if now they mean it more than anything. “You look lovely tonight.”

“Thank you,” she’s blushing, but her smile is proud.

“Did you know that violets mean ‘modesty’?”

“They do?” Her eyes light up, always eager to learn about anything. “Do the other flowers mean anything specific?”

“All of them do, and some of them mean something else when paired together. It’s why I picked them.” Beatrice’s brow raises, anticipating that Amaryllis will explain. “I think I’ll leave it for you to figure out on your own.”

“What!” Beatrice pouts, and her grip on their arm tightens. “But it’s my birthday.”

“And you love to learn, so it's the best gift of all.”

“That is a wonderful gift,” she laughs. “Then would you tell me what your favorite is?”

“I like Hemlock.”

“Isn’t that…”

“Highly poisonous? Yes, though it is safe when dried.” She stares for a moment, somewhere between confusion and amusement, then laughs again.

“How am I not surprised?”

“I also like roses. But don’t tell anyone, I wouldn’t want word to get out that I’m just a romantic, it’d ruin my reputation.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” her expression turns pensive, “are you really? A romantic, that is.”

Amaryllis shifts a little closer to Beatrice. The arm that isn’t graced by her touch reaches out, hand on her bare shoulder. They notice a heart-shaped birthmark that they hadn't had the opportunity to see until now. Fingers brush over it before ghosting down her arm, wondering what her reaction would be if it was their lips instead. As they trace her skin, Amaryllis feels her shiver, and it takes every ounce of restraint to not seek that out over and over. They take her hand then, pulling it to their lips to place a soft kiss to the back of it, leaving behind a red lip print.

“I certainly can be, when someone piques my interest enough,” their ruby gaze doesn’t leave her face. Beatrice stifles a gasp, and Amaryllis wonders what to do now, how they could just walk away from this—

And then, they’re interrupted.

“Birthday girl! You’re about to miss your own toast!” Portia leans in to shout from the doorway. “and you have to lead the song, or else Ilya’s squawking is gonna give me a headache.”

Beatrice intertwines her fingers with Amaryllis's, and then leads them outside hand-in-hand. The walk from the dining room to the veranda is far too short.

⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯

#many beamie thoughts #if u read all of this... i love u #will smith poses at bea’s lovely writing #the image is concept art from the 2004 poto movie #beamie #beatrice viano #apprentice beatrice #amaryllis leroux #apprentice amaryllis #amie fic

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zuffer-weird-girl · 4 years

Text

Not happening. (Not again)

He sighed in pure annoyance and hatred while walking slowly behind the desperate girl that was running and whimpering for help on that filthy alley.

He didn't even wasted his energy running after, because he knew that no matter what, that girl would always come back to him by force or by will. Especially when she didn't want it any more deaths happening because of her curse...

Nobody understanded. Nobody. Eri's blood was essential for reviving the old man's wish and dream... and to free his dear one from her curse.

He didn't had much time...

"Sir?" The doctor spoked aprehensively with Chisaki while you got out from the hospital bed "Mind if we talk for just a bit?... alone?"

He arched his eyebrow in pure disgust and annoyance while you giggled and waved your hands up in the air.

"Is okay! I will get out." You looked at Chisaki with a smile before discretely caresing his gloved hand "I will wait for you outside on the waiting room, right?"

"Be careful." He said simply, the moment you closed the door his body immediately froze while his gut told him subsconciously that.. something bad was going to happen.

This usually appeared minutes before he saw you dying...

"Overhaul sir..." the doctor sighed with grief "About your partner's quirk.."

"Spit it out." He growled while glaring daggers at the doctor.

"... you might want to take a seat." The man showed with his palm at the chair in fron of his desk.

Despite being so aprehensive, and dare he say anxious, he sitted slowly, glaring at him for answers. The man sighed, while locking his hands together on the desk.

"She has not much time left." Kai's eyes widened like they never had before on his life, gloves dissapearing in one blink of a eye.

"..what?" He breathed out, his spine going colder and colder by the infuriating tic and toc from that clock hanging on the wall.

"Her quirk. I treated her father once, so I sadly know the deal..." he looked up at Chisaki with a sour expression "Pardon me for asking... but how many times did she..?"

"... I almost lost count. But I guess it was... 119..."

The doctor winced before taking inhaling, preparing to bring the bad news for the young man in front of him.

"Quirks like that have a certain... limit of atturing themselfs... You can guess that by many times she got weaker and more fragile to some of accidents right?" He saw Chisaki nodding a bit trembly.

"That means her body is not taking anymore... Overhaul, I am afraid to say this... but if she suffers another accident or even much loss of blood... her quirk is not going to work anymore and..."

"Will not... be back." He ßaid in oure horror while the doctor nodded sadly, never once expecting to see such a face on the yakusa boss future leader.

"I am afraid so... Her father died by something so indignant, he fell down some stairs, something that it seems normal for us. But his wife told me that he had presented death by the number 119... just like your partner out there."

His heart dropped to his stomach as his eyes remained wide... one more. One more and you would be gone for real...

"You can't tell me there isn't a fucking cure for this." He hissed teh words, griping on his pants so hard that his knuckles turned white.

"Only by a miracle... maybe if her quirl was removed or something, her cells of the body would be slowly recuperating their strenght and health..." he sighed "But that's impossible. Unless you have someone like Eraserhead in your house and keeps using his quirk on her."

He lifted up abruptly from his chair, scaring a bit the man before he nodded and left his room with a bitter and insufferable taste on hsi mouth.

He opened the door and bites his tongue to not just cry and fall on your arms when he saw you reading some magazine and gently waved at him when noticed presence.

One more time.. and he would lose this...

"So. Any bad news?" You asked worriedly before he carresed your cheek, sighing in relief when your face melt in bliss at his touch.

"No. No, nothing of bad news." He lied bitterly before walking besides you "Just warnings for you to be more.. careful."

"Does he know it doesn't depend on me?" You asked sadly, frow returning "It just happens out of no where... you know that."

He sighed trembling before reaching for your hand, pushing you gently for him to be on the side of the street instead.

"I know this better than anyone angel... trust me." He sighed heavily, you tilted your head at his expression.

He wasn't wearing that stoic facade of his... he seemed more... angry? Desperate? Even determined you would guess.

"Kai? Did he said something else?" You pried, only receuving a shake of his head and a squeeze on your hand.

You... had a bad feeling about this... yet, couldn't tell what it was...

She stills keep running even knowing that he will get her after... seriously, he knew that childs were dumb but why keep making him waste energy and time?

He doesn't have time for her tantrums. He has to make those bullets for testing, curing his angel and prepared the marketing of the bullets on the underground.

Crush hero society. Cure the world from the hero syndrome. Bring the yakusa back to their glory days.... save his (Y/n)...

Those were the only things that kept him living. That gave a life purpose...

He wouldn't let Pops or his angel down. He knew that. He was going to prove this.

"Have you completly lost your humanity Chisaki?" Pops asked in pure horror after interrupting Kai's explanation from his plan.

Again. Again being refused. Why he can't understand that he just wants to repay him?! Is that difficult to get that this is for him and her?!

"... Lost my humanity?" He said darkly, walking slowly towards the elder "You took me in, I just want to repay you."

He lowered a bit his glove with his thumb, the elder catching what was happening before Chisaki continued.

"Lost my humanity you say? Tell me pops. How would you feel if your father figurine turned your ideas down constantly? Or even better yet.." he looked Pops dead in the eye, clenching his jaw while controling himself to not just break down.

"How would you feel if the love and light of your life, simply had a curse that just can't be cured. Keeps dying in front of your eyes every damn time... if you got something to cure them you would take it wouldn't you?"

He aproached even more and his glove fell down...

"Just lay back and relax. Is going to hurt just for a moment."

He growled at her sudden pleas starting to come out while she runned and kept looking back at him.

He had to do this. Stop running like a damn pest.

"He what?!" You asked in horror while lifting youserlf from the couch, immediately coming to him with hands on his arms.

He was pleased when he discovered that Pops and you grew found of each other... this explained your reaction when he told about his... current condition.

"Kai I'm so sorry..." you said almost tearing while he only stared into your eyes.

"Is not a problem. He is going to be alright soon. I know it." He carresed your cheek before frowing. "What are these clothes for?"

You looked down at yourself and your gym clothes, making a confused noise while looking back at him.

"What's the matter with them? I was going in for a run like I always do. Remember? Around the block?"

His eyes darkened in worry and hatred. No. You couldn't get out. What if something happened?

"You're not going." He growled while you arched a eyebrow at his tone of voice.

He never once lowered his voice with you excluding in some couple fights which were rare... so why?

"Excuse me?" You asked in disbelief "I was going with Ku-"

"Not with Chrono. Not with Mimic. Not with ANYONE." He growled whiel he glared daggers at you "You're not getting out of this place."

You tsked in anger before turning in your feet to walk out before he grabbed your wrist.

"Kai let g-!"

"You're NOT leaving this house. Understand (Y/n)?"

"Give me a good reason then!" You shouted this time, not even caring about how he despised those things.

"You want to just die outside like the other times? Is that it?!" He hissed in pure anger while you gasped in disbelief.

"Chisaki is only around THE BLOCK."

"You can be attacked. Suffer a car accident. Hell even trip in your own foot by how careless you are!"

"Is this worry now?" You laughed bitterly before yanking a bit your hand... without success on getting out of his grasp.

"Yes it is dammit! I'm tired of seing the only light on my dark life dying over anD OVER AGAIN!" He shouted, catching you off guard immediately.

A uncomfortable silence got between teh both of you while he breathed in and out to catch his breath and his compusture back.

He flinched a bit at your hand in his cheek before looking at you.

"I know it hurts... I told you many times that you can let go of me-"

"Like hell I would." He growled, grabbing your hand on his cheek and pressing it even more to hsi face.

You made one of your most sad and broken face before oushing him in for a hug. He catched you again off of guard when he wrapped without hesitation his arms around your waist and buries his face on the crook of your neck.

"... You know that always I will come back to you right?"

He broke at those words... knowing exactly that this time it wasn't true.

He let out a cry and just burried his teary eyes in your neck as his back shocked with every sob pass through his lips.

He couldn't lose you...

Ah great... that brat bumped into some hero...

He inhale to remain his compusture and to remain pacient while talking with those socks.

"You should be more careful." He started, Eri looking at him with terror "We don't want to cause any problems for the heroes."

The green haired boy looked up at him with the same look Eri gabe to him while the older and blonde one just gave him a look.

"Let's go home. Eri."

#overhaul x reader #overhaul scenario #fanfic overhaul #overhaul #chisaki kai imagine scenario #kai chisaki x reader #chisaki kai x reader #chisaki kai #kai chisaki #bnha x reader #bnha imagine #bnha characters #bnha villains #bnha #my writing #zuffer writings

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iwritethat · 4 years

Text

Wally West: One

A/N: This was a detour from what I was doing. Oops.

Warnings: None

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"M'gann?"

"Yes."

"The cute alien chic?" You thought of the girl, clarifying it was indeed the correct one.

"Yes."

"And you're sure this one is the one because you said that 3 girls ago."

"Yes... I mean no, I don’t know - look can you please help me (Y/n)." Wally playfully pleaded with you like he’d done on multiple occaisions prior to this and you could only shrug in defeat.

"Sure but my conditions remain the same."

"I know, no bragging, pizza on me, you pick the film for the next 3 weeks."

"And?" You mockingly coaxed, knowing how much the next particular demand pained him which was evident in his deadpan but reluctant tone.

"And no mocking your dates."

"Good."

The following day you’d stategically accompanied Kid Flash on a visit to Mount Justice, the sight of you two together was no surprise to Robin, Aqualad nor Speedy though the remainder were intrigued by the mysterious stranger so Wally proudly made introductions.

"Hey M'gann, Conner, this is (Y/n)."

"Ah, this is who you love so much to talk about!" The Martian beamed grasping your hands as you shot a glare to a flustered Wally, the guy sheepishly running a hand through his strands.

"Is this your... girlfriend?" Superboy casually inquired after thinking of the correct terminology, yet again leaving you to wonder what your friend has been saying about you in your absence - also considering the implication this’d have on your scheme.

"No! Definitely not! I'm totally single, just because I've told you about (Y/n) doesn't mean we're dating. We're not dating by the way." Wally briskly recovered, blush fading as he emphasised his point specifically for the sake of M'gann.

"Nice to meet you both. Ah Kaldur!" You lit up once seeing the Atlantean, immediately embracing his form just as he did to you in hopes of catching up with him.

"It's been a while (Y/n), you look well."

"(Y/n) is here? Looking as lovely as ever, surprised you're still hanging with Wally though, you're way out of his league." Robin proudly joked as he walked toward you, genuinely happy to see you again and a girl called Artemis agreed with him despite only recently learning your name - supposedly teasing Wally was a commodity amount the Team.

"I'm here for training, Canary said she'd activated the sparring platform so I wanted to test it." With a content shrug you set your plan in motion, gesturing over to the designated area as indication.

Now you were very well trained, the team knew that so it wasn't a surprise when every single member landed with a 'FAIL' until Wally challenged your winning streak. You went two rounds, the first you played to his strengths allowing him to take you down with his speed and received the only 'PASS' of the day. M'gann cheered, flying over with questions and compliments whilst you comfortably sat up and proudly watched Wally bask in the desired attention. Meanwhile got to your feet, brushing yourself only to be met with a smirking Robin beside your figure.

"I know what you're doing and you are good at it, but I don't think it's gonna work."

"Does it ever work with Wally? He's never met a girl he's really caught deep feelings for but I'm only in it for the free food he's promised me." Came your knowing reply, softly smirking at Robin who seemed to disagree but accepted your justification nonetheless.

"There is one y'know..."

"Hey (Y/n) ready to get your ass whooped by the best there is? Fastest kid alive babe." The speedster smugly gained your deadly gaze, his boasting violating the agreement you’d struck less than 24 hours ago and thus not giving you a chance for Robin to elaborate like you’d wished.

This time you would not allow him a victory, like the others you took him out with a mischievous smile and then crouched over his waist whilst he leaned up on his elbows to meet you.

"No. Bragging." You raised a brow, tilting his chin towards you as you punctuated each word as a reminder before heading out. Although your plan had still succeeded to a degree, you walked backwards finding the Martian kneeling down to your friend inquiring about his condition as you winked at him - Wally seemingly impressed with your antics, as he usually was whenever he roped you into these scenarios.

You retained your attentive skills, even talking him up to M'gann but it became painfully obvious that her romantic affections were reserved for a certain clone which left you disappointed albeit pleased for her. Now, you had to break the news to Wally - you'd considered such measures while sitting against the wall in one of the Mountains many hallways bouncing a ball off of the other side as a form of contemplation.

Soon enough your felt a familiar comforting presence beside you, catching the ball and initiating a harmless game between the two of you.

"What's on your mind?" Wally knew you incredibly well, narrowing down I even the smallest quirks and he'd use that to his advantage.

"Nothing, but I'm afraid you might have to give up on M'gann."

"I know. Supes right?" He didn't seemed phased by your sympathetic disclosure, which surprised you slightly due to how long he’d spent gushing over the girl.

"Yeah, sorry West."

"It's alright. Thanks for trying, I'll still get you that pizza."

"But I didn't...?" His response was unexpected, leaving you somewhat speechless but he soon continued with conversation before you could finish, no evidence of heartbreak to be seen.

"That Dan guy you went out with? (Y/n) c'mon you're stunning, and he didn't even offer to pay the full check at the coffee shop. You deserve so much better, his flirting game was awful too." Wally reminisced on the details you’d cruelly given knowing he wouldn’t able to comment due to you deal, although such a thing was now void and you’d regretted that decision. Yet part of you enjoyed his mocking support.

"So I get the pizza but have to suffer your judgements for not getting you a date? I'm sure you have something to say about Jackson too." You threw your head back with an exaggerated sigh, Wally laughing as he replied.

"Don't get me started..."

How unaffected Wally seemed about the let down still puzzled you, although you believed something else must've attained his focus - not that you had any indication of what it was as you sat flicking through the channels.

"So... there's another girl." There it is.

"Dude, are you kidding me? Give yourself a month at least."

"No this one is the one, I know it." His tone was oddly confident compared to his usual dilemmas regarding that topic which automatically gained your full attention.

"Uh Huh. And when did you meet her? Love at first sight or whatever?"

"I've known her longer than a few days give me some credit here. But it wasn't at first sight, I didn't even notice it was happening or rather happened..." Wally's point was certainly more realistic in comparison and he was being truthful - again, maybe this peculiar circumstance held promise.

"You know my terms an-" You simply shrugged, assuming he wanted your assistance once more which dulled your growing investment slightly.

"No, not for this one."

"Hot damn, this woman must be special. Tell me everything!" That decision shocked you and it was evident in your tone, you excitedly encouraged him to indulge your lowkey interrogation since he never turned down your assistance.

"Yes she definitely is, but I don't know what to do for her y'know?"

"Romantic restaurant? Roses? Tell her over a romantic dinner." You listed things instantly, barely stopping for a breather.

"Would you want all that though?" Wally considered your ideas, furrowing his brows before he asked his question even if his posture radiated nervousness despite the confident facade he’d attempted to convey.

"Hah, no way! Honestly I'd love a chill night in, order a take out, put on a good series and just enjoy each other's company. I mean roses are nice too but I want to know my date likes me enough to relax and be themselves - you can't really do that in a fancy restaurant. Anyway, you should probably find out what this girl likes first." You simply smiled, giving him an honest opinion and advice for you felt he'd finally found someone more than just a crush to him.

"I guess..."

It was silent for a moment until familiar words echoed in your mind 'There is one y'know...' and instantly you stood up with your realisation.

"I know who it is!"

"What?! How?!" Wally snapped to with concern evident in his expression like a deer in headlights, unbeknownst to you why that was but he too halted in his tracks.

"Dick told me, I don't believe it Wally - it's great!" Now you had Artemis in your head, they'd hated one another at first so it certainly made sense that he'd grown to like her. They'd also kissed at New Years Eve or so you'd heard.

"Robin told you I liked you?! Are you kidding? He only knows because I thought he had a crush on you." That answer caught you off guard, practically disintegrating your ability to form a coherent sentence or even think straight due to the abruptness of it.

"Wait me? I didn't, um, I can't, since when? All the times I've been helping you with girls I... I..."

"Wait you didn't know? Okay stay there, I'm doing this again!" Wally held his hands out in defence, soon disappearing leaving you standing alone with your thoughts. A dangerous thing really.

Did you even have feelings for him? Quite possibly, that would explain why you occasionally compared dates to him and why you were always so willing to help him find his happiness but surely you wouldn't have suppressed them? It was so confusing.

Within a minute he appeared before you, a single red rose in hand and sheepish smile.

"I'm late I know that but there's no pressure for you. This is not how I expected you to find out, I aimed to flirt with you and only you before making a move so it wasn't thrown on you so suddenly but here we are. Guess I'm not great with girls without you."

With a mischievous grin, you pulled him close by his red hoodie and gently met his lips with your own and you couldn't deny how right it felt - an action you’d hope would quell the warring emotions. You pulled apart, his arms wrapped around your waist and yours on his shoulders.

"You're actually quite adequate, I'm just as surprised as you are."

"Oh you're hilarious." He matched your witty sarcasm, but still you find his happiness intoxicating.

"Can we, um could we take things slow? I know that's ironic to ask the fastest kid alive but please."

"I'd slow down for you, I want to take my time in every moment I get so it won't be a problem (Y/n). I promise." Despite the trace of concern in your voice, Wally was reassuring and sincere with his words so you both felt comfortable in whatever situation you'd crafted.

"So, I assume you won't be mocking my dates anymore."

"I think every date you'll have from now on is gonna be too great for me judge. Ah too bad, I know how much you loved me doing that." The speedster playfully responded with a knowingly satisfied smirk to which you threw him an 'are you serious?' expression.

Later, as you both sat comfortably on Wallys' bed eating pizza whilst a film played in the background, you received simultaneous texts from none other than Dick Grayson - his smugness translated even in a message.

[Dickiebird: Told you so.]

#wally west #wally west x reader #wally west imagine #kid flash #kid flash x reader #kid flash imagine #dc #dc imagine

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inviouswriting · 4 years

Text

In small moments between the clamor of cheers and those who enjoyed the Grand Melee. There is a moment that Lucia caught Aymeric staring after Kiya.

She sees that there is no mistaking the look in his eyes. It was the look of love and adoration for Kiya. She smiles to herself, she knew of his feelings since they first met, and when he met Kiya. Their relationship was a work and friendship based one. Even when she had voiced her own a long while back, he was kind in the way he turned her down.

She just knew, and seeing him shine bright this way. Kiya held more than she realized, but she catches the way even the miqo'te looks at Aymeric. How they danced around their feelings.

Aymeric was a solace for Kiya where she had no one, and Kiya was his after he lost so much himself.

Lucia approaches Aymeric and stands near him enough to draw a turn of his head.

"Lord Commander, you wear your love for her in your eyes."

"Is it that obvious? He feels sheepish that others see it so plainly.

"Aye it is. Does she know yet?” Aymeric looks away and Lucia guesses she does not know yet.

“You should tell her.”

“Aye, when the time is right. I do not think the middle of the Dragonsong War is the appropriate time for such feelings to be laid out.” Aymeric has his own fears in the form of if he tells Kiya his feelings just yet, she could end up snatched away by cruel fates, and he be left broken hearted.

“Understood, but speaking from a woman’s heart. I can tell she holds the same feelings. She too wears her emotions in her eyes.” Aymeric looks at Lucia then over to Kiya. Kiya meets his stare and holds it till she looks away sheepish for holding his gaze. When Kiya looks away Aymeric’s smile increases.

“We should set about the preparations for Falcon’s Nest.” Aymeric changes the subject, Lucia nods and starts ahead of him as they all walk back to Ishgard.

Kiya lingers near the Aetheryte Crystal, her eyes gazing up at it almost lost in thought. She had just spoken to Alphinaud about their options in meeting back at Falcon’s Nest. She was left alone with her thoughts, and feels another pair of eyes on her. She turns her head to see Aymeric approaching her.

“Kiya? I thought you would be at Falcon’s Nest already.” Kiya shakes her head out of her thoughts hearing his words.

“I’ll be there soon. I was just enjoying a moment of kind silence.” She earns a smile out of him.

“Is that so? Well, would not be good for you to be late. We both have some time... would you indulge me in something? Just brief?” Aymeric requests, Kiya quirks an eyebrow wondering if it is another task to do.

“Nothing serious, just follow me for a moment?” Aymeric reaches a hand out to her, and Kiya takes it while keeping a questioning look in her eyes. Aymeric once he has her hand, he guides her to a little spot near the edge of the Aetheryte Crystal, a broken archway. He has her stand close to the edge the light was about right with the sun about to rise.

Kiya keeps her gaze on him for the moment, but when the sun started to crest the horizon, she is greeted to a beautiful sight in how the orange and pink hues dance over the mist below. She is in awe over how pretty Ishgard really is. She is smiling wide, and when she turns her gaze back to Aymeric, she sees he is watching her face with a reverent smile of his own.

“Is this what you wanted to show me?” Aymeric nods to her question.

“There is that, and one more thing.” He thought about what everyone has been saying to him. To tell her his feelings, he reaches a hand for hers and she gives it to him. He feels her skin is icy, and notes she tends to wear less layers. He brings her hand up to his mouth and holds it in both of his hands to blow hot air on it.

Kiya feels a jolt in her spine, and turns away sheepish at such gentleness out of someone who towers over her and can be intimidating if he wanted to be.

“Pray, Kiya. You should wear warmer clothes. Would not do for you to get sick from the elements. Anyway, my other reasoning for bringing you over here. I have something I wish to tell you.” Aymeric starts and keeps her hand in his.

Kiya feels her heart thudding in her chest, she isn’t sure if she is blushing from cold or the tenderness she sees in his eyes. She also feels something else, terrified of what this could bring.

Aymeric could feel her tense from his touch and contemplates backing out of this and approaching her a different time. Her eyes betray her demeanor. They're bright, full of fire, and mayhap hope like his own hold for her.

"I have.... hope that we will save our friend." Aymeric curses himself internally as his words leave him. He turns his head wondering why he can't bring himself to say it.

"Oh... I do too." Kiya starts to take her hand back but he holds onto it tighter.

"Ah, before I forget!" Kiya stares at him, like she did in his office when he called her attention before she went to help the preparations. She can see the wry grin.

"Yes?" Kiya begins to wonder if her heart is getting away from her. Maybe he did not feel the same.

"This." Aymeric leans forward and presses a kiss to the top of her forehead. Kiya's eyes widen in shock that he did that. She glances up at him and he only smiles at her.

"Forgive mine forwardness. I can't find the right words I wish to say to you yet. Perhaps when this is all over. I can tell you honestly how I feel about you." Aymeric says while holding her stare. She nods then motions for him to meet her down.

He does and she returns his gentle gesture with a kiss on his cheek.

"I can't find the right words myself." She smiles up at him, and knows their time has come to an end. Aymeric keeps her hand in his until she finally pulls away.

They both look at each other with a yearning in their eyes and one they feel in their hearts.

"I need to go help with my friends then I shall be out there at Falcon's Nest." Kiya says and Aymeric nods.

"I look forward to seeing you in the crowd, My friend." After one more shared smile Kiya turns and runs off to The Forgotten Knigjt to meet up with Alphinaud and the others before they wander out to the location.

Aymeric watches her as she runs off. His own nerves on fire. He wants to forget all manners of what is normal and chase her and confess his feelings in a hushed and flustered uncomposed mess. His pride to look descent in public eye prevents him from doing so.

The next time he sees her is from the platform. Vidofnir listening to his speech, as he spoke his eyes focused on Kiya's face when he said a familiar phrase. "Some wounds cannot be healed." He sees how Kiya shakes in a jolt at her memories. But also sees how she is composed and smiles at him. She had made her peace.

Kiya also makes up her mind of her feelings in that moment with his words as her conviction. She loves him.

After the attack and he had called Alphinaud and Kiya into his office. He gave his conditions to ask Hraesvelgr for aid, how he needed their escort to the great wyrm.

The travel was made at post haste, Kiya seemed happy to have him along. They even made minor jokes or spoke of happier times.

Kiya fell behind as they traveled through Mourn. Aymeric understood now how the Dravanians too had a graveyard for their own. He was respectful walking through the cavern.

Once he and Alphinaud reached the peak and into the Churning Mists, it was just at the beginning of sunset. He walked till he was satisfied with the distance. He never beheld such a sight like this before.

Lost in his own world he doesn't hear the soft padding of feet next to him. Kiya stands next to him and smiles at such a look of bewilderment on Aymeric's face.

"Beautiful isn't it?" His attention drawn to her, he sees how the orange washes over Kiya casting a unique glow to her. Kiya accidentally brushes her hand to his and jolts it back.

"I'm sorry." His hand chases hers and he grasps it in his own.

"It is beautiful, and your touch is welcomed in mine." They both turn to look at each other. He tells her of how he had only heard tales of the place and seeing it is a whole other feeling itself.

Alphinaud stands back a ways, he can see something blooming right before his eyes. He was witnessing a love and relationship come to life before his eyes.

"Ser Aymeric? Do you think... when there are some peaceful times... we could... maybe.." Kiya feels the rest of her words caught in her throat.

"Date?" Aymeric tilts her head up to look at him. His fingers resting just under her chin to hold her there.

"Yes.. I mean... if our feelings are mutual." She feels a sudden regret but the way his eyes soften and how he lowers his head down to hers to press his forehead against hers.

"I would love that. In fact that was what I wanted to ask you back in Ishgard. Would you allow me to court you?" Kiya's eyes brighten and they both smile warm.

"I would love that. Ser -"

"Aymeric. Please call me Aymeric." He doesn't want his title attached when she addresses him now.

"Aymeric. I would love that." They hear a light cough and Alphinaud draws both of their attention. Kiya and Aymeric quickly separate with a flustered blush matching.

"Sorry to interrupt you two. But shall we get going to Zenith?" He earns both of them nodding. Kiya takes Aymeric's hand in her own and they lock their ring fingers together in a promise to talk later.

They must first take care of Nidhogg and hopefully save Estinien.

#aymeric #aymeric de borel #ser aymeric #kiya shinikami #aymeric x kiya #invi's ffxiv writing #ffxiv aymeric #estinien #alphinaud #ffxiv alphinaud #alphinaud leveilleur #actual relationship development i rewrote a scene in here for my collections to make it fit better

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brucenat · 5 years

Note

Prompt: This is kind of a continuation of the fic "Closed Doors", but one night when things get heated once again Natasha decides she's ready. Bruce being the gentleman that he is, still offers her an out, saying she doesn't have if she's not ready. But she is, and Bruce shows great care and a kind of gentleness that Natasha has never experienced before.

Hello, lovely!

I’m posting this fic in full both on AO3 and here, but not Fanfiction. I didn’t want to risk my account getting hit because of a guideline violation (and I know there have been some groups going around reporting people).

Before reading this piece, please note the trigger warning and the author’s note.

Trigger warning: sexual assault within the fic’s flashback. Please read on at your own discretion.

Note: Before diving into this piece, I wanted to assure that I crafted this narrative and its events with nothing but respect and understanding, and I apologize now if that doesn’t come across for anyone. Surviving sexual assault is tremendously difficult, and it is absolutely normal and okay to experience flashbacks and feel triggered. It’s okay to experience these things and not want to engage in sexual activity afterward. It’s okay to experience a flashback, take a moment, and continue at your own pace. How you cope is absolutely valid, please know that.

If you want resources for reporting sexual assault or you want to talk about anything (related to this or not), know that my inbox is always open and there are so many people out there ready to help you.

AO3

Arch (The Sequel to Closed Doors)

It’s utterly gentle how he has her pressed against the dresser. His kiss embraces her with more pressure than his hands cupping her face, more than his hips tilted into her. She’s enjoying their position, this foreplay of teasing nips, her tidal wave of touch over his bare torso, their tangled tongues. She melts into the wood, slouches into him when he dives down her neck and fastens onto the skin just above the collar of her shirt—technically his shirt. He might think himself clever—which he is—or sneaky—which he isn’t—when he moves his hands to the hem, inches the fabric up. The tongue now teasing her clavicle is almost enough to convince her, but acquiescing now would be a lot less fun.

She seizes his hands in hers and leans down to capture his mouth. His palms slide into her grip, their fingers interlace, and their lips meld in a slow dance. Fixed between him and the dresser, she remains, kisses lazy and long, her thighs where their joined hands rest. A grin tips onto her mouth when his thumb strokes the pillow of skin near her underwear.

It doesn’t make sense when the flashback hits her. She’s safe, she’s settled, yet it rams into her.

Too many tongues slither onto her skin. There’s her body and a horde of snakes clambering onto her, over her. They make her a burial ground, except she is still breathing. Her lungs are painfully functional and, without even blinking, she is back in the Red Room.

“Nat?”

His voice, along with the entirety of the present, stir in the back of her skull, all under gelatin with leeches suspended in it. Everything in front of her is a cursed crimson with a bleeding teenage corpse strewn across a mattress of nails. Fixating on the destruction itself is better than the images of the trauma inflicted against her, what she feels happening to her. The men allowed into the room, allowed access to her without her say, revoking possession of her own limbs—

“Natasha.”

Then she’s back. With questioning fingers brushed against her cheek, Bruce’s arms sturdy under her palms, she’s out of the red.

He folds a hand so his knuckles rest on her cheekbone. All of him is a support for her. She’s slumped further down the dresser, crouched halfway between standing and sitting on the floor. He’s right there with her.

“You’re here. Nat,” he murmurs, “I’m here.”

“I’m gonna…”

She doesn’t need to finish for him to know. “Yeah.”

He slides his arms back until both her palms cover his. He waits for her to latch on, then tugs both of them upright. There’s a threat of wobble in her legs, which she refuses. She will stay on her own feet. This is her body, and she will use it how she pleases. In this moment, that means walking to the bathroom and into the shower.

When Bruce pauses in the doorway as she enters, her stomach drops into fast nausea. Come with me. Her tongue won’t accept the words. Her throat is thick with suppression, gagged by the past. She reaches for Bruce and he’s at her side, in her grasp, in an instant. What’s supposed to happen next seems so obvious and, yet, she can’t find the will to do it.

The two of them linger on the tiles, joined palms like a liferaft, adrift toward an endless horizon. Who knows where she’ll sink if she lets go, if she’s left to tread in the dark depths of history too long.

It’s time likes this when Bruce steps in, does what she needs without hearing her verbalize it. There are other ways to speak.

For a few moments—less than fifty seconds—he relinquishes her touch, traverses over to the shower and turns it on. As the water warms, they wait. His shirt on her is a safety net; if she really wanted to—and she does—she’d shower with it on, and he’d have no qualms. She wouldn’t have gotten this far in life without pushing herself, though. She strips.

The shirt lifts and sinks to the floor in a parachute of navy blue fabric. Her underwear follows, and so does Bruce’s pants, his boxers. He looks to her for a signal, any direction. In response to the tiny nod she gives, he steps in, paving a path for her.

As soon as she enters, hot water hits her magma skin and, somewhere between, it becomes steam; it beckons the old infection out of her skin. The toxins seep out, the present replaces them. Bruce is right in front of her.

The phantoms of fingers stick to her skin like tiny spiders. She scrubs at her arms and stomach, swiping away rivulets of water and invasion. In here, in this square of a space dedicated to cleansing, she permits herself this outward rebellion against her memories.

“Nat. Nat.” Bruce murmurs. His touch whispers over her, brushes onto her jaw. She breathes, refocuses. Water, which rivals her burning skin in temperature, thickens the air with steam. Her pores sigh into the damp, her hair slicks into a wet sheet. Bruce cradles her face as the showerhead rains around them, splatters soft onto the glass barrier. He said her name and she holds it as an echo in her ears. He’s with her in one of the two spaces in the world where being viscerally herself is the default. He’s as there as she is.

She lifts her hands from herself to cover his, press them more firmly into her. Her head tilts forward, bowing ever so slightly into the space between them. It’s something she does out of instinct rather than thought or intention, but he nudges in the next second and strokes her crown with a kiss.

“You’re here. I’m right here with you.” He assures into her skull.

“I know,” she tells him.

“Whatever you need—whatever you want me to do—”

She lifts her mouth to meet his, not to quiet him but because this is what she wants: the person she loves, trusts, whose resonance matches hers, as close to her as possible. She wants his love beating right beside her heart. She wants him loud and utterly himself with her when she blocks out the rest of the world with her walls. He is the quintessence of what she wasn’t supposed to have.

She clutches him to her like he’s an oxygen mask, kisses him as though they’re raising a mountain together and not even the shower spray can get between them. He gives right back, melding into her mouth without overwhelming her whole body.

When they part to breathe something other than each other, he asks, “How are you feeling?”

They’re barely apart, so her noses brushes against him when she nods. “Better.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want me to get the water?” He gestures behind her to the shower handle with a flick of his eyes.

She nods and he cuts the spray. Emerging from the shower is easy—it’s existing beyond the bathroom she’s not prepared for.

He gets a towel for her before himself. She constricts her chest with the cotton, eliminates the nooks and crannies where shadows of the past can haunt her. As she stands there suppressing, Bruce bends down and retrieves his shirt from the floor. It’s a tranquil offering he holds out to her, which she gladly accepts. The scent of their detergent gusts over her when she tugs it on, trades the towel for the swath of him. While she does that, he slides back into his boxers, maybe his pajama pants too.

“Do you want these?”

She turns to see her own underwear held up to her. A glimmer of a grin cracks through the cement that’s settled on her face. Each action slow and steady, she takes the arm extended to her, plucks the fabric from his grasp, tosses it aside, and pulls him to her. She directs his hand to her waist, where he can keep them steady as their mouths press together. They create a gentle ebb and flow, his hands mirroring where hers drift on him.

“I, um—” He pecks her lips before continuing. “I have an idea—if you’re feeling up for anything. It’s okay if you’re…”

“I’m here with you,” she assures. “I’m okay.”

“Okay. Uh,” a sidelong look reveals what he has in mind before he says, “Could you…sit on the counter?”

An eyebrow quirks, more play than critical, but she doesn’t question. A thin layer of condensation makes sliding on effortless. In the interim, Bruce scoots a towel over and positions himself on it, kneeling. It’s second nature, the way her legs part for him.

He deposits a kiss onto her knee, slides his hands over her calves. When he looks up at her, his full eyes and lingering creases of concern in his face are nothing except loving. “If something doesn’t feel right, or you get another flashback—”

“I’ll let you know.” She promises, passing her fingers through his short curls.

He nudges his nose where he’d kissed her, lets her maneuver however she wants in the meantime. Knowing this part well, she drapes one leg over his shoulder and leaves the other propped against the cabinets below. Her hands don’t wander far from his head, which migrates toward her crux, a butterfly trail of kisses and the stroking of his fingers.

The warmth of his breath breezes through her lower hairs, coasts over her folds. She settles into his touch and trusts him to make her melt.

With the leftover moisture from the shower, he could enter her with a two fingers and she’d have no issue. It wouldn’t be him, wouldn’t be his typical touch, if he jumped to that without her asking. He dips into the damp with his tongue, eases her into the thaw. Out of the shape of her, he finds art, tracing her in a slow, fluid motion. An arm curls around her thigh, lighting scrapes up the taut skin on her hip, then slides back down. When he widens her part, he applies a slight pressure, just enough to spark the right nerves and get her to sigh the ghost of a moan.

She arrives fully into the present on blissful tides, his mouth wading around her, replacing the shower’s wet with her own. When he attends to her clit, he starts with a tease of tongue before a full embrace. She could cry from the softness of it. Instead, she hooks onto his hair, encourages him on.

He shimmers and flicks her clit, obeys the hand telling him to give more, and adds a finger to the mix. A firm tip drags through her damp, leaving more in its wake. Worship replaces the feeling of cursed.

Her orgasm happens quietly, with a gradual increase in his tongue’s pace combined with the coaxing of her G-spot. Sighs elevate into gentle moans as her thighs quiver from this blissful undoing. This time, when she’s unmade, it’s entirely with her consent. Reconstruction happens in the aftermath, where she doesn’t desire his shirt on her, but Bruce himself.

Once he removes his finger, she tugs the sole piece of clothing off her body and drops it on his head. He startles, and his lips stumble across her folds. Without removing it, he rises, meets her with a grin as she takes the fabric off his skull and sets it on the counter. Before either can say anything, they’re kissing. The tang of her slides from his mouth to hers, mingles between them like sweet oxygen. For some span of precious time, they stand, bodies pressed close, and simply kiss.

Want of him lingers in her core like an itch not properly scratched. Loath as she is to pull away from his kiss, she does so to see what he’s willing to give. “Bruce—”

He responds with minor surprise, sans condescension or judgement. “More?” To her nod, he coasts his hands over her thighs, one on either side of him, and asks, “Do you want fingers or…”

“Fingers.” Though he doesn’t feel hard—and she absolutely won’t apologize for what she feels—the receding wake of her flashback compels her to add, “I don’t think I could—”

He crashes into her before she can venture down the spiral. His fervor has him tugging her closer to the counter’s edge, her legs clamping tighter, both of them caught mid-exhale. When air becomes necessity, they part and he tells her, “You don’t need to justify anything. Not to me.”

This time, it’s her who pulls him in. Their lips meet and melt, and she’s indomitable inside this haven and out. It’s her who takes his hand and directs it over her body, her muscle, her skin. What she wants is him and her, him knowing how to touch her, her loving with him here and now. He senses this and listens. His hand cups her crux, her fingers feathery on his wrist, and he swirls through her damp heat.

She migrates two fingers to her clit and, with just light pressure, her spine shudders and bows. Their heads knock together, her thighs tremble and he adjusts one of her legs in an effort to hook her more firmly to him. The same digit teases her entrance while, elsewhere, his hand wanders, cherishes. Subtle sparks under her skin follow his touch up her hips, her waist, her brief collection of scars, her ribcage. When he cups her breast, squeezes light, in just the right way, his finger plunges in and she’s ascending toward a euphoric peak.

He strokes into her, shows her how even the inside of her can be caressed. The circles she presses into herself start regular, have her humming from her throat to her core, but the pattern crumbles into erratic movements as he increases his pace. Keeping her legs up around him is both a challenge and the only option. She clings to his hair, goes to kiss him but he eludes her. He sucks on her neck’s pulse point, makes her veins feel like they’re a lava flow.

Just as her trembles turn to quakes, he retracts his one finger and quickly returns with two. She can’t help but emit an, “Oh—”

Then he’s at her ear, scraping with his teeth, and the only recourse in the world is to kiss him, the only sensation is a pleasure that overwhelms the senses, has her shaking. He thumps into her through it all.

When orgasm hits, it crashes into her. Her back arches as she moans into his open mouth. His palm on her breast gets caught between them, which he doesn’t seem to mind. Even if he did, there’s not much he can do as she comes, vibrating around him and his fingers within her.

Everything’s as she left it when she returns to her normal state, minus the trembling in her panted breaths. Other than that, Bruce is still between her legs, his mouth dropped to the junction between her neck and shoulder, and she’s sitting on the bathroom counter in the home they share. She’s safe.

She’s also a little tight in the legs—definitely not in other places—and her calves are starting to throb from something other than orgasm-induced pleasure. She kisses the top of his head, then stretches out. His hands lift from where they’ve settled on her thighs. They cup her face as their lips peck, then he reaches for the cotton bundle beside her.

The blue clump gets a smile out of her. “You got your shirt back.”

“Not for long.” He holds it between them without condition.

Before taking it—because his clothes are an offer she can’t refuse, and one he can’t revoke—she slides back onto the floor, onto her own feet. She tells him, “Thank you,” and hopes he recognizes how far that goes. To be sure, she kisses his cheek then, for herself, she pulls him in, wraps her arms around her partner in life and soul and simply exists in the squeeze he reciprocates.

After that, she takes the shirt.

#ask Avian #tw: ptsd #tw: abuse #brutasha #brucenat #brucenat fanfiction #brutasha fanfiction #bruce banner #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha pov #avengers fic #avengers fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel #here be smut #avianink #as always i hope this is alright

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adilynia-kiden · 5 years

Note

How does Adi deal with her men being so flirty all the time? Doesn't she get pissed they sleep with all those people

IC:

An absolutely delighted laugh slipped from the small knights lips that she quickly tried to muffle with the tips of her fingers, but to no avail. Golden eyes shimmed with mirth and amusement at just the thought of her fiancee’s antics that she was subjected to on the daily being set upon another. “I quite think they should continue, then perhaps others will know exactly what it is like to have your cheeks burn as mine do on a near constant basis! Light bless, I’ll take a bit of pity in that regard…really, it hasn’t happened yet, but one of these days Teren and Lycan are going to make such a display that I’ll faint dead away at their feet!”

Tucking her chin into her hand, the corner of her mouth quirked to make the beaming smile turn impish when paired with dark brows that tilted in question and amusement. “I get… pissed… as you so eloquently stated, when uninformed shadows try and find threads of possible animosity to pull in order to unravel our Trinity. And so poorly executed… such a pity.” A droll tone slipped among whispered words, as she was genuinely disappointed by such a blatant and clumsy attempt at causing friction with such invasive questions. It wasn’t like they weren’t expected; few could understand the dynamic of the Trinity.

Leaning back into the bench, the tilt of her chin upwards could have been seen as an arrogant display, until one realized she was basking in the warm rays of light as they broke through the clouds. “At the end of the day, it is my lap they rest their head in. They find solace in my fingers running across not the exquisite lines of their bodies…but the souls they lay bare. They seek my heartbeat to find a sync with theirs…and my Light to find their way home when the shadows close in.”

Lacing her hands together in her lap, the index finger of her right hand moved slowly over the sapphire and diamond engagement ring on her left. “So, you see…there is no reason to harbor such toxic feelings like jealousy and possessiveness, not when I know where our hearts lie. Not when I know the truth of all their facets…when others only see the ones they wish them to.”

OOC:

Not quite sure what you were going for here, if I am honest. However, I realize that many people jump into a story halfway through and don’t grasp the dynamic of the Trinity as they haven’t followed it from the beginning. They don’t understand the almost year long journey it has taken them to get where they are now. And, if I’m honest.. tumblr gets the ‘highlight reel’ of our RP, as it’s a constant flow of writing and discussing characters thoughts and mindsets in discord.

The Trinity formed because they were thrown into a near impossible circumstance with everything working against them. They dealt with tragedy on every side for months and suffered numerous setback that even left the muns wondering if they would get through it.

But, they moved through their miscommunications and missteps like adults. They were forced to talk and eventually learned to understand one another in ways that, really, none of them wanted. But, what they all figured out, they needed. They learned to trust and eventually love… and let me tell you, that journey was hard fought for, my friends.

It’s bonded them beyond empathic abilities and elven threads, to a mutual place of absolute devotion. They work because they are only ever concerned with making the other two happy. The Trinity works because they are selfless, and make adult decisions and have hard conversations that often leave me, as the writer, in tears with how hard they go in. They strip their emotions down and are honest with one another, no matter how it might hurt. Then, they work towards righting the problems.

You can’t ‘right’ jealousy and none of them, by nature, is jealous. Territorial, yes. But petty jealousy isnt, and will never be their thing. Do they suffer doubts, fears and screw-ups that leave them emotional wrecks? Yes. God, yes. But do they let it stew and turn into something foul and toxic? No.

Yes, there is a great deal of sex involved, and lord have mercy is it hot, but that is not what is at the heart of the Trinity. BDSM is not at the heart of who and what they are, it is a dynamic they thrive in. It isn’t all whips, chains and edging, my dears. It’s the hand at your lower back guiding you through a crowded street to make sure you are safe. It’s not being able to decide what you want at a restaurant, and trusting someone to know you well enough to make that decision. It is laying all your troubles, fears and doubts at another’s feet and allowing them to guide you a healthier headspace that is supportive and within the confines of the dynamic and rules set in place. My suggestion would be to read up on the reality of the BDSM dynamic, and not rely just on what tumblr offers. It may help you grasp the nuances I’m likely describing poorly.

At it’s core, they have a healthy and beautiful relationship built on trust, communication and a commitment to building on the happiness they have already found in one another. Which, I can promise you, not one of them will give up without a fight… and a damned bloody and brutal one at that.

Yes, I went on a tiny bit of a rant.. but I often feel like some people can’t get past the ‘Two guys one girl’ mentality or feel as if any member of the Trinity is ‘filler’ for the other two.

They work as a trio, together…just as the writers work towards offering a committed and healthy view of a polyamorous relationship, so do the Trinity themselves to maintain it.

Thank you for coming to my AddieTalk. We now return you to your regularly scheduled display of shiny things and armor things. I’m returning to my pillowfort like the adult that I am.

@marquis-teren-kiden @marquis-lycan-kiden for the Trinity goodness!

#The Trinity #Anonymous

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pawprinterfanfic · 5 years

Note

How about Murphy & Raven with a meet-cute situation, in whatever AU you can think of. Or if that doesn't inspire you, how about that pairing where one of them is jealous in some way. Thanks!

Hey! I just finished writing this prompt! Thanks for sending it in; I got a little carried away (3000 words, anyone?). I mean, how could I not? It’s Murphy and Raven. I love writing their fire.

You can also read it on my AO3! (Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated).

Enjoy! And thank you for sending in this prompt!

A Situation Asking for Trouble

“Can you be my boyfriend?”

Exactly four seconds passed before Murphy responded.

“Who the hell are you?”

He turned away from the shelf lined with cereal, coming face to face with a stranger.

A stranger that just so happened to ask him to be her boyfriend.

Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, small wisps loose and hanging in her face. Her eyes were like fire, burning so bright and so fierce. She stood only a few feet away from him, her arms crossed and a pleading expression on her face.

She must’ve been a student, just like he was, as several an emblem from a university – his university – was just visible behind her open jacket. He could see a couple letters below the emblem; ‘aduate.’ Instantly, he recognized this sweater, after all, it was the same one he owned. It was their graduating class’ sweater.

“Do I know you?”

“I’m Raven.” Did she expect him to remember her? Dammit. Did he know a Raven?

“Uh. Okay.”

He glanced at her again, begging for a memory. He was sure he would’ve remembered someone with such striking features. Just her eyes were dark brown, burning with such intensity. Nope. He didn’t know her. He would’ve remembered her.

“Who are you?” he asked.

Raven glanced over her shoulder, clearly on the look for something. While he didn’t know her, he got the impression that she was nervous. Her fingers were pulling at a loose thread hanging from her sleeve and her bottom lip was firmly between her teeth.

“Sorry, I know this is weird,” she said, her voice strained, “but I see my ex with his new girlfriend over there.” She gestured vaguely down the aisle. Murphy looked up, noticing a couple halfway down the aisle from them. “I already know he’ll be a jerk to me, especially if I’m alone and he isn’t.” Murphy wasn’t following.

“What?” Why would she ask him to be her boyfriend if…?

Oh.

“Can you pretend to be my boyfriend if he comes over?” There it was. Finally, it clicked into place for Murphy. A grin lifted his lips, finding the situation more than amusing.

Maybe she wanted to get him to lay off, or to knock him down a few pegs, or to make him jealous – Murphy wasn’t exactly sure of her reasoning. But it was hilarious.

“I’ll, uh… I’ll buy your groceries,” she added quickly after seeing his reaction. Murphy glanced down in his basket of food, something settling over him. It was a mix of exhilaration and amusement.

He knew this was a situation asking for trouble.

But, if he knew that, then why was he considering her proposal?

His lips quirked up as he locked eyes with her. Maybe because he liked trouble.

“I’m in.”

She looked genuinely shocked. “Oh, don’t look so surprised. You asked me for a reason.”

“Yeah, because I’m desperate!” she said. “Well… thank you.” He smirked.

“Don’t thank me yet.” His eyes flicked up, focusing on the couple part way down the aisle. “I think we’ll have to put our acting skills to the test because I’m pretty sure that guy just spotted you.” If possible, Raven’s expression turned into one more of shock. She spun around, letting out a small groan when she seen that Murphy was right. A couple was walking towards them, the male cocky and grinning.

She swore. “Okay.” She turned to him, forcing a smile onto her face. “Quick crash course. His name is Wick and is a total jerk. We broke up a few months ago. Just… look pretty. Don’t say anything.” He snorted.

“Sure,” he said sarcastically. She shot him a look before sighing and holding out her palm.

“Grab my hand.” He shot her a look.

“What?”

“Grab my hand!”

“Listen, Raven, I-” It was too late to argue, as the other couple were already in hearing distance. Raven quickly dropped her hand away from him, curling it into a fist by her side.

“Raven!” The male, Wick, called out her name as he approached, cutting Murphy’s sentence off. She turned to him a fake smile plastered across her face. Murphy dropped his basket to the supermarket floor, examining the two newest people to join him.

Wick was taller than him, with frosted blond hair tousled around his forehead. Murphy wasn’t sure what he looked like normally, but he looked like he had a permanent sneer on his face, his overconfidence radiating out. There was something about the way he held himself that told Murphy he clearly thought he was better than everyone around him.

The girl attached to his side was smaller than him, her head only coming up to his shoulder. She looked quieter and more compassionate than Wick did, but that wasn’t saying much. Murphy was sure the box of Frosted Flakes beside him had more emotion than Raven’s ex, if his cocky vibe was anything to go by.

“Wick. Hi.” Raven’s voice was tense as she spoke to him. Murphy briefly wondered the history here. Why was she desperate enough to ask a complete stranger to be her boyfriend, just because she seen him walking around the store?

He shook himself. It wasn’t really his business.

Crap, he thought. I’m just standing here. Wouldn’t a real boyfriend be doing something? This was his girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend, not just a stranger. How would he act? How would a good boyfriend act?

Murphy wrapped his arm around Raven’s shoulders, trying his best to not touch her skin. While she already told him through her actions earlier that she was okay with physical contact, he wasn’t going to make her uncomfortable. He searched her face, trying to judge her reaction, looking for any discomfort.

To his surprise, Raven turned around, a soft smile on her face. While Murphy was not a romantic, he could’ve sworn her expression stole the air from the room. Her face held such softness that nobody else did when they regarded him. It made his throat feel tight.

It wasn’t real, he reminded himself. Still, even though it was all part of an act, nobody had looked at him like that before. It was an odd feeling.

She reached up with her hand, grasping his that was rested on her shoulder. Her fingers wound themselves through his, locking their hands together. Murphy took this as her permission for his arm to be there and released the tension in his body. She leaned into his side, almost like this was normal for them.

Seemingly having missed their interaction, Wick carried on with the conversation. “How’ve you been? It’s been too long.” She forced out a pained laugh.

“Oh, not long enough, Wick. Not long enough,” she said, her light like she was teasing, but Murphy had a feeling her words held a certain truth. “I’m good.”

“That’s nice.” Wick’s gaze moved from Raven, shifting over to Murphy.

Great. What would a boyfriend do?

In that second, Murphy really wished Raven would’ve told him this history with this guy, if only a brief one. Were they still friends? Did they have a messy breakup? Did Raven want to be on friendly terms with him or did she want to get rid of him? Should he trash talk him? Should he be glaring right now?

He felt out of his depth in that moment. He could play nice, no problem. But he could also play dirty. What did Raven want? He didn’t want to ruin her friendship with this guy by saying something sarcastic. Then again, he reminded himself, Raven asked me to pretend to be her boyfriend so she didn’t give the pleasure to her ex by seeing her alone. He doubted she wanted to keep her friendship with him if she had gone to these extremes.

“I’m Wick,” he said, sticking his hand out towards him. Murphy dropped his arm from Raven’s shoulders, reaching out to meet his grasp.

“Murphy.” Unsurprisingly, Wick’s grasp was so tight he felt his bones groan underneath it. Of course, he was the type of man to try to establish dominance through a simple handshake. He had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. When he let go, Murphy buried his hand in his pocket.

“You still eat that crap?” Wick questioned, his eyes falling to an item in Murphy’s basket. Inexplicably, he became defensive over the poor box of cereal. It was called junk food for a reason, jerk.

Just as he was about to come to defense over his food choice, Raven spoke. “Of course, I do.” She reached into the basket at the base of Murphy’s toes, lifting out a box of Lucky Charms. “You know they’re my favorites.”

Suddenly, it dawned on Murphy. Wick thought it was their shopping basket. Whatever he had picked out was supposedly for the both of them. Somehow, fortune had apparently been on his side that day, as his favorite cereal just so happened to be Raven’s favorite too.

“They’re delicious,” Murphy agreed. Raven’s lips lifted with a teasing smile, her eyes meeting his.

“Magically.” For the first time in that painfully awkward interaction, Murphy genuinely laughed. He could appreciate cereal humor.

“I thought we decided to stop eating them last year?” Wick commented lightly.

Murphy picked up on the more malicious undertones of that statement. He chose to say that, almost as if to remind Murphy that he knew Raven too, if not better than he did. His words were meant to remind him that he was a part of her past that Murphy never could be in.

While it was the honest truth, Murphy couldn’t help but feel a little offended at that, if only for the sake of playing the role of boyfriend. His opinion on Wick had dropped a few levels with that snide comment. While he wasn’t actually her boyfriend, Wick didn’t know that.

“I guess you did, but I’ve always loved them,” she responded.

“They’re a staple in our relationship,” Murphy responded, lifting his eyebrow in Wick direction. He tried to convey his thoughts with his stare. That’s right. Relationship. Jerk.

“Oh, totally,” Raven agreed, feigning seriousness. “Without them, I’m sure our relationship would just go up in flames.” Murphy smirked at her teasing tone. Their banter was light and playful. It was domestic and normal, more so than two strangers should have been.

“Definitely. We both know that cereal is the only reason why I’m in love you.” The words left his mouth before he could really consider the weight of them. Raven’s eyes widened slightly at that, as if she was shocked by his words. Make that the both of them shocked by his words.

It wasn’t true, not by a long shot. He didn’t love her. He barely knew her. But the feeling of normality sent a shock through him. It felt like it could be normal for him to say those words. For his whole life, he doubted he would ever say those words to anyone, in any situation. Even saying them as part of this act sent a shock through his system.

This could be his life one day, maybe. In love with a girl, standing their grounds in front of her ex, shopping for groceries together, buying a crap ton of Lucky Charms. He could have a normal life with someone.

While that wasn’t his life now, in that moment, he could almost see it. One day, maybe. Maybe not with her, not in this moment, or in this situation. But one day.

“I didn’t know you were seeing someone,” Wick commented, his eyes flicking back to Raven. Gathering her composure, her gaze left Murphy’s. She lifted her eyebrow in Wick’s direction, challenging him.

“I didn’t know it was any of your business.” Murphy felt a flash of pride for this stranger – she was a badass. So that’s how she wanted to play this. She wasn’t planning on staying friends with him.

Good. Maybe I can trash talk him, Murphy thought. Like he said, Murphy had an affinity for trouble.

“No need to be nasty, Ray. I was just saying.” He sent her a slick smile and she frowned, clearly not happen.

“It’s Raven, Wick.” She stepped closer to Murphy’s side, her shoulder brushing against his. His hand that had been resting against the side of his leg reached for her, grazing against the bare skin of her hand. She met his grasp, taking hold of it. Once again, their fingers twined together.

It was… Natural. It felt normal to be holding someone, to be looking at her ex with distain. It felt like it was everyday life that he was showing the tiniest signs of affection to someone.

Once again, he couldn’t help but think of a day where a situation like this might be possible – where it might be real. A different girl, a different store, seemingly a different lifetime. But maybe something like this could be a reality.

“Are you still doing mechanics?” the girl at Wick’s side asked, stepping into the conversation for the first time. Raven visibly gained more tension within her body by facing the girl.

“I am.” Murphy could sense her unease. What would a good boyfriend do? He squeezed her hand in his before continuing the conversation, trying to relieve the tension in the air.

“We’re graduating this year,” he added. Raven’s body went rigid at that, clearly surprised that he knew she was graduating. Apart from her standing a little straighter, there were no other signs of her surprise. Otherwise, she kept her composure. “She’s a brilliant mechanic, you know? She’s always working and studying hard. I’m sure she’ll be the top of her class.”

She glanced up, another soft smile on her face, this one more genuine than the one before. He met her eyes, letting a similar expression touch his own features. Where this softness was coming from, he wasn’t sure. The only thing he did know was how light his chest felt by staring at her.

“You go to TonDC, too?” Wick questioned, his eyes narrowed. Murphy met his gaze, his features turning stony.

“That’s how we met, actually,” Raven commented, quickly formulating a story in her head. “Murph is also graduating this year from his program.” Murphy had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing at her use of a nickname. Gods, he hated when people shortened his name, but hearing it from her somehow made him want to laugh.

“You’re studying mechanics, too?”

“No, actually. I’m studying criminal justice.”

“Ha.” Wick pressed his lips together to keep himself from laughing. Raven straightened her back and narrowed her eyes.

“Something funny, Wick?” Murphy knew he should’ve been annoyed at the guy for laughing at his major, but all Murphy wanted to do was burst out laughing. As if this random girl’s ex was trying to insult him. Gods, what drama he get himself in to? He loved it.

“Nothing,” he quickly said, a smug smile tugging at his lips. “It’s just… Humanities, you know?” She scoffed, as if she was actually offended that her ex was insulting him – a stranger. Murphy found it sweet, in an odd way.

This was a weird situation.

“No, actually, I don’t know. Care to explain?” Raven’s tone was tight, leaving no room for questions. Wick’s smile wavered.

“It’s just… It’s humanities, Raven. We both know how much better science is.” She snorted at that.

“Okaaaaay, Wick. I love how you’ve worked on your superiority problems.” With the roll of her eyes, she looked up at Murphy, her eyes softening. “Whatever Murphy does, he’ll be great at it. Plus, his life isn’t really any of your concern.” There was a heavy silence over the group for a long moment. “I think Murphy and I are going to head home.” She glanced back at Wick, annoyance on her features. “Thanks for stopping to say hi. It’s always so enjoyable catching up with you.” Murphy almost snorted out loud at her blatant sass and sarcasm. She reminded him of himself, in the best way possible.

“Nice meeting you, Murph!” Wick called back, his tone patronizing. Murphy smirked at him, his expression unreadable.

“I know.”

Raven led the way down the rest of the aisle, a wide smile across her face. It looked like it was taking everything in her not to burst out laughing that very second. Once they reached the line for the cash, she turned to look at him.

“Gods, that was good.” She dropped his hand, a slight softness on her features. “Thank you for doing that. Now do you see why I didn’t want him to see me without someone else beside me?” Murphy snorted. He could understand after meeting him. Wick was a jerk.

“It was fun,” he commented. “But, seriously, what kind of name is Wick?” Raven shrugged.

“It’s his last name. I could ask you the same thing. Murphy? Is that your real name?” As her items began getting scanned through, she glanced at him again. It was in that moment that he realized he never actually introduced himself to Raven, both of them being too caught up striking a deal to do so.

“Yeah. Murphy.” He chuckled. “It’s my last name, too.” Raven pulled a fake strained expression.

“Don’t tell me your name Kyle, too?” He assumed that must’ve been Wick’s first name, judging on the fact her expression was twisted like her finger touched a wet piece of food while doing dishes. He laughed at that.

“No,” he said, “it’s John. Not much better, I know, but…”

Her expression shifted to one of softness again. She glanced at him, tenderness in her expression that he hadn’t seen before. It was the same way she looked at him only minutes before, when they were acting in front of Wick and his girlfriend. But they were pretending to date then. All of that was fake – their soft glances, their kind words, their confessions of love.

But this expression was… real. It wasn’t his pretend girlfriend Raven looking at him with tenderness, it was the real Raven. The stranger.

“I like it,” she determined. She gathered her grocery bags in her hands, pointedly avoiding his gaze. The sound of his items being scanned through filled the silence between them. “Well, I really appreciate you playing along so well.”

“It wasn’t hard.” While his words weren’t meant to have a hidden meaning, he realized it once he seen Raven’s cheeks turn the faintest of pink. He understood at that. It wasn’t hard pretending to be your boyfriend. It wasn’t hard pretending to be in love with you.

“Well, it was easy to be with you, too, for the record.” Once they both paid for their groceries and their bags in hand, she glanced at him, an unreadable expression on her face. He lifted his eyebrow.

“What?”

“Do you eat Lucky Charms?” she asked, glancing at one bag in his hand. He snorted. He could’ve sworn she was going to ask him a serious question.

“They’re actually favorites; that wasn’t a lie.” With those words, that fiery spark in her eyes appeared once again. Their eyes met.

Four seconds passed before she spoke again.

“Did you want to get dinner, Murphy?” Staring into those fiery eyes, he had never felt so sure about an answer.

“I’m in.”

#fanfiction #murven #murven fanfiction #john murphy #raven reyes #the 100 #fanfic #modern au #alternate universe #alternate universe: university #fake dating #first meeting #mine #pawfic #minet100

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