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lord-explosion-baku · 4 years

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Keep Away

Yandere!Bakugou x reader

It’s a special occasion, so Bakugou decides to wine and dine you. It’s too bad for him that you’re intent on ignoring him.

Warnings: yandere, dark themes, lime, forced orgasm, minor food kink, stockholm syndrome, spanking, light violence

A/N: I woke up at like three in the morning and decided to finish this. I saw a bad ending to a certain cyberpunk bl dating sim, and thought “would be kinda cool to be force fed cake,” but then it didn’t really turn into all that much cake feeding which is probably for the best. Who’s to say. It’s just kinda fun to say “it came to me during a cyberpunk bl dating sim bad end,” rather than, “it came to me in a dream.” Also, I’m so sorry if you read this and go “ew strawberry cake isn’t my jam. Belgium chocolate 5evah!!!!1!!” but if you do happen to like strawberry cake, I got you fam.

“So you’re not talkin’ to me now, is that it?”

You keep your gaze low, careful not to even lock eyes with your captor—because no, you’re not talking to him, you’re not looking at him, you’re not even going to acknowledge his existence. It’s your verbal keep away. You’ve decided that it’s the worst possible punishment for Bakugou—ignoring him. You’ve tried just about everything: screaming at him, hitting him, crying to him, begging for your release, and it’s all given you nothing. You figure, why be anymore of a source for his entertainment?

“You should at least thank me for cookin’ you a proper meal.”

From across the candlelit table, Bakugou uncrosses his arms, glaring from the admittedly very well-made plate, to you. He clicks his tongue when you don’t respond, then moans around a mouthful of pad-see-ew, just like he knows you can’t stand.

“It’s so good, baby. Practically melts on my tongue…”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at that. It would be different if it wasn’t his food he complimented, but that’s Bakugou for you. Insolent, prideful, and terrible.

Bakugou stabs his chopsticks into his plate. “You’re not wearing the dress I bought. Not good enough for you?”

You didn’t even try it on. You want to tell him, but that would only spur him on. Bakugou likes it when you challenge him. He always gets that stupid smirk on his face, that daring look in his eye—always like he’s ready to bend you over and fuck you into submission. More often than not, that’s what ends up happening.

“Your ass would look great in it,” he says before taking another mouthful. You can feel his crimson glower scorching your skin, but you won’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. “You can wear whatever you want, though. I want your ass even in those sweats.”

You exhale and lean back back in your chair. He really has to be so vulgar, doesn’t he? Well, that’s not gonna make you crack.

“Yeah, I won’t force you in it. Not yet, at least.” Bakugou grins at the thought, chewing loudly. “I wouldn’t mind playing a little dress up with my doll.”

Your lip twitches, and you hope he doesn’t see. You have to squeeze your thighs together and ignore impending thoughts of Bakugou’s hands on you—first tearing your clothes off, then slowly, sensually zipping that tight, black dress up. You can’t keep from imagining his lips grazing your back, hands running through your hair, him pressing into your backside…

“Need some water, babe? You’re looking a little flushed.”

Your eyes snap to Bakugou’s and your cheeks warm even more when you realize he’s just caught you fantasizing. At least he doesn’t know what you were thinking about. Christ, you could only imagine the field day he’d have with you if he found out you ever thought about him like that.

After you’ve spent plenty of time hating yourself for having these thoughts, you’ve come to the conclusion that it has to be natural. In a psyche class you’ve taken, you learned a bit about Stockholm syndrome, and though you’re sure you’re definitely not falling in love with your captor, it’s perfectly fine that you occasionally think about him in the lusty kinda way. Admittedly, he’s earned it with the amount of orgasms he’s given you since you’ve been taken. But he hasn’t earned your love. Definitely not.

Bakugou stands, folding his napkin onto the table, and walks over to the ice chest he has on standby. He’s wearing his red dress shirt, paired with that white floral vest and nice slacks. You want to know what the occasion is for, but you won’t ask. You’re definitely underdressed, and a part of you wishes you had put on that dress he picked out for you.

You close your eyes and empty your mind of such stupid thoughts.

“How about some champagne?” Bakugou flips a knife out and cuts the cork off with a pop!, making you jump a little bit. He glides over to you, puts his hand on your shoulder, leans in, and fills the crystalline flute sitting on the table. He smells like spice and that natural burnt toffee aroma he has. It’s so nice that you can’t help but lean into him just a teeny bit. And he notices.

“You’re gonna eat somethin’ for me, yeah?” he whispers lowly into your hair before kissing your temple. You freeze while he moves down your neck, brushing a finger along the opposing side of your face, coaxing your head to turn. “Or are you not in the mood for Thai? We can always skip straight to dessert.”

Bakugou dips down to kiss you, but you turn so he misses and kisses your ear. He growls out a sigh and you clench your hands into fists. You’re waiting for it—for him to lose his cool. You don’t know why he’s trying to act kindly to you, but that’s sure to end at any moment, and when it does, he’s going to feel guilty. You’re planning on exposing him as the monster you’re always accusing him of being.

“I’m serious, I made cake,” he says, a slight edge in his voice. He twirls a finger around a strand of your hair, tugging it so you face him. “Your favorite. Strawberry cream frosting, and it tastes fucking fantastic.”

Bakugou’s gaze drops down to your lips before finding your eyes. “I could feed it to you—have you lick that sweet cream right off the tips of my fingers.”

Your scowl tightens on him. He smirks.

“Your lips always look the prettiest when they’re wrapped around something. I’m startin’ to really like that idea.”

“Why?” you bite out, because you can’t take it anymore. You’re either going to die from curiosity or die from embarrassment when he inevitably undresses you and finds out just how much his teasing gets to you, and you won’t let him have that.

Even still, Bakugou looks as triumphant as ever because you gave him what he wants: your attention.

“Why what, huh?”

“Why the dress!” You bark, resolve out the damn window. “The meal, the champagne, the cake?! Why are you trying to be so nice to me all of a sudden?”

“I’m not trying to be nice. I am nice.” Bakugou rolls his eyes as if he’s explaining something simple to a child.

“No, you’re not!” You insist. “You’re...you’re…” Shock sets in and your shoulders grow rigid. He couldn’t possibly be...but if he is...he’d be absolutely daft to think you’ll say yes. “You’re not proposing to me, are you?”

“Hah?” Bakugou’s eyes widen. You definitely caught him off guard, and you could melt from the steaming blaze in your cheeks. “You want me to put a rock on those pretty fingers of yours? Make an honest man out of me?”

“No! No!” You exclaim on a head shake. “I just thought...with the whole atmosphere-“

“Princess,” he interrupts, taking your hand into his. He brings the back of your wrist to his lips, and for a moment, you think you could be right about him proposing after all. At least, until he speaks again. “We ain’t gonna get hitched ‘til you’re good and knocked up—at least four months in, too. That way, there won’t be a chance in hell you can skip out on me.”

There won’t be a chance in hell he will knock you up with your IUD in, so good luck to him on that endeavor. It’s not like he doesn’t know about it, either. There’s a reason why he’s never been hesitant to enter you unwrapped. Although, considering what he just said, you don’t believe he’d be any different if the circumstances were different.

Your lips curl into a snarl. “Then what’s going on?!”

“You seriously don’t know?” He scoffs, then leads your hand to your champagne flute. Once you take it, Bakugou tells you he’ll be right back, and you down the drink. You let the bubbles wash down your throat and quickly take a bite of noodles before he sees. You sigh. They really do melt on your tongue. Bastard.

Before you know it, the faint smell of burning wics envelope your space, and all the lights in the room besides the candles on the table dim. Then, there’s a cake placed in front of you—pink, with intricate, white designs lining its frosted edges. You count the candles and there are exactly the same amount of years you’ve been on this earth, plus one—no, not plus one.

You look up to Bakugou for an explanation. He’s simply grinning down at you, looking proud.

“Happy birthday, baby.” Bakugou kisses the top of your head. “Make a wish.”

Absently, you blow the candles out, but you don’t make a wish, because your brain is too busy doing mental math. On your last birthday, you’d gone on a date with Hitoshi Shinsou. He took you to a cute, little café, bought you a coffee and a tiny cake. He’d ended the night with one of the shyest, sweetest kisses you’ve ever received. Not even four days later, Bakugou took you. You never got to thank Shinsou for that perfect day.

The hair on the back of your neck rises with the sudden realization that you’ve been with Bakugou for nearly an entire year. That’s one year of your life ripped away from you. One year where you haven’t made any progress achieving your dreams. One year that you’ll never get back.

“What’d ya wish for?” Bakugou asks, but you hardly hear him due to the scathing fury that rings in your ears and burns your back. You’re unsure of what you should say or how you should react; you already pulled the silent treatment and you think you’re far too livid to go zipping your lips again.

There’s only one thing you can do: go absolutely batshit crazy.

“I hate you!”

With a quick shuffle, the cake is splattered on the table, your plate flies across the room, and chopsticks are in your hand, aiming for Bakugou’s eyes. It’s too bad for you that Bakugou either expects it, or his reflexes are just so good that he catches you by the wrist before you can stab him. You’re immediately twisted around, chest on the table, arm pinned to your back, and his erection pressing into your ass.

“Yeah? You hate me?” Bakugou’s voice is erratic, husky, dripping with lust. He climbs on top of you, grinds into your behind, and hisses, “wanna say that again?”

“Let me go, asshole!” You below and try to buck him off of you, which only encourages him to pull your arm tighter, forcing you into paralysis. You grit your teeth while tears sting your lower lashes. The only weapon you have is your voice, and that’s always proven ineffective against him in the past. Still, you can’t stop yourself from yelling. “It’s been a goddamn year! I’m sick of being your prisoner!”

“Is that right?” Bakugou shifts, and you hear the sounds of metal clanking. You know instantly that he’s taking off his belt. You writhe as much as you possibly can, fearing a lashing. He hasn’t ever really hit you before, and though getting him to the point had been your end goal, taking the belt is a whole other level of pain you’re not willing to endure.

“Katsuki,” you pant, desperate. “Please, no. Please don’t. It’s...it’s my birthday!”

“You think I don’t fucking know that?” Bakugou releases your wrist, and goes for your hair instead. He yanks you back so that his chest presses against your back. His lips are against the junction of your shoulder and neck as he growls, “after everything I’ve fuckin’ done for you? Ungrateful little slut.”

He pulls your sweats down, cupping your ass roughly with his large, calloused hands. They feel good—his rough touch against your soft cheeks—and despite feeling fearful for the state of your ass, you can feel yourself getting aroused. “I really gotta put you in your place today of all days?” He squeezes your ass tight and possessive, like he owns it, and in the moment, you can’t really say that he doesn’t.

“No,” you cry and god you’re pathetic. You had this entire plan set up and now it’s barreling out of your control. As his lips graze your shoulder, you let out a sigh and say, “the cake was really, really pretty, Katsuki. I’m sure I would’ve loved it. I’m sorry I did that. I just…”

“Just what?” He rasps against your neck before his hot tongue draws a long line across your skin, making you shiver in response.

“I was just...overwhelmed,” you admit. “Our anniversary-“ you choke out, the words sour on your tongue, but you manage to make it sound sweet-“is just around the corner. I wasn’t prepared...I don’t have a whole lot of resources to do something special for you…”

Katsuki Bakugou sure is a lot of things, but he’s not a moron. You’re positive he can read your facade like a book and he’s certainly not one to play along. .

“Oh yeah? You wanna do something for me?” He sucks in your earlobe between his teeth, nibbling playfully. You mewl as Bakugou reaches around your body, large fingers moving down the front of you and sliding down your pubic bone. He dips two fingers between your lips, swiping smugly at the traitorous puddling at your core. “Is this really what gets you off, sweetheart? Lying to me just so I get a little rough with you?”

“N-no.” You try to sound stern, sure of yourself, but Bakugou is light to the touch, fingers barely teasing your sensitivity. You catch yourself grinding into them, directly resulting in your ass moving against his erection. You can feel him pulse against you, and it only makes your pussy throb in direct result, which doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Just admit you want me,” he seethes, pressing more firmly against you while his middle finger teases your entrance. “You like me like this. You don’t want sweet—you want me to be a hard ass, don't you? Why else would you act like such a slutty little brat? Good girls don’t get wet after shit like this, baby. Good girls don’t like to be thrown around.”

“Katsuki,” you say on a sigh while bringing a hand to his arm, hoping to direct him to break through your surface.

“Put your hands on the table,” he growls.

“Please.” You ignore him, pulling his arm more insistently, needing him to deepen his touch.

“This is the last time I’m gonna ask you; put your hands on the table, or I won’t hesitate to use this belt against your bare fuckin’ ass. I’ll lick you so good, you’ll have bruises for months. You’ll need to sit on a fuckin’ ice pack the next time I’m courteous enough to have you dine with me at my table.”

Shuddering, you obey him, planting your palms against the flat of the table, away from the splattered cake. Bakugou lets out a contemptuous scoff, brings your wrists together, and easily wraps his belt around them, tight and with no leeway.

He then pushes your shirt up so that it’s around your wrist with the belt, and pulls your sweats down all the way off of your legs. You’re virtually naked in front of him, with the exception of your bra and panties, helpless to do anything about it. Just like he likes it. He always wants you to bite back until he gets you to submit. He was probably enjoying your little silent treatment show, too; it was just another kind of rebellion, another barbel that he’s fought and won.

A tingle runs down your spine as he traces it with calloused fingers. You feel your stomach tighten from anticipation when he reaches your tailbone and his touch leaves your body. You hear him chuckle as he pulls at a strap of your thong, snapping it back into place. “At least I know you like the panties I got you.”

Pain bursts on your right cheek as the sound of his sharp slap ricochets around the dining room. You have to bite your lip to keep from crying out—even still, you’re trembling when he rubs the sore spot.

“Awww,” he coos, snickering. “You gonna try and act tough?”

You exhale, trying and failing to keep a steady breath, but it’s all wrong and you’re already panting.

“Show me how much you hate me, baby, I wanna hear you sing it.”

The next lick comes without any precursor, no warning, no time for you to brace yourself, so when he slaps your ass, you can’t help but cry out—ecstatic or indignant—it’s not your place to decide.

“Katsuki!” You fall forward, forehead on the table, inches away from the ruined cake.

He chuckles at your position, petting the back of your hair. “If you want me to stop, you’re gonna have to lick it up, Princess.”

Your eyes narrow and you shoot a sideways glare back at him. “I’m not a dog.”

His lips tilt sideways, cocky and annoyingly hot, cheeks red, brow raised provocatively. “You sure look like a bitch to me.”

He spanks you a third and fourth time, and your mouth hangs open with unspoken yelps, a familiar, shameful feeling traveling down your stomach to your throbbing heat.

Taking a second, Bakugou dips his fingers into the pink frosted mess in front of your eyes, and brings it to your mouth. “Taste it for me. I worked hard to get the flavor right,” he commands, smearing the cream over your bottom lip. You’re helpless to oblige. Only, when you stick your tongue out, he pushes two fingers into your mouth.

“Bite me, and I’ll have you tied up for the entire night. I’ll make you scream until you’re on the edge of passing out, then I’ll fuck you awake. I’ll use you—fill every hole you’ve got ‘til you’re nothing but a leaky drainpipe full of my cum. Do I make myself clear?”

“Mhmm…” Not wanting to test to see if he was just making empty promises, because he never makes empty promises, you glide your tongue around his fingers, aiming to please. You let out a soft, appreciative hum when you taste the sweet, strawberry flavored frosting, and suck his fingers clean.

“Good girl,” he says, his fingers leaving your mouth, only to dip back into the cake. He brings them back to your lips and you take him in willingly. “Now, I don’t want to hear another word out of that pretty little mouth, until I tell you to speak. Understand?”

You look at him with affirmation. He spanks you again.

Your body jolts, spit and cream drooling out of your mouth as you moan, trying not to utter a comprehensive word. The vibrations from the impact sends waves of pleasure dancing across your clenching heat. He hasn’t even really touched your sex, and yet, you feel the coils of an approaching orgasm winding up in the pit of your stomach.

The sixth and seventh spank has tears falling down your cheeks. The heat is too much to bear and you can feel sweat sliding down your back. You want to warn him—to request that he takes a break, because the oncoming shame that’s making your toes tingle and your heart race might be a little more humiliating than having him torture you for the entire night. But you say nothing, your curiosity besting your dignity. The next spank does you in. Your body shakes as you wail, your coils breaking while you pool out, thighs sheened with your arousal. There’s absolutely no hiding yourself, and Bakugou is going to be all too smug about this. You simply cannot believe yourself.

“No way,” Bakugou husks, fingers leaving your mouth. You’re panting again when he brings his fingers to your fluttering pussy. He pushes them in and all you can offer is a sigh when he’s up to his digits in you.

“Aww...oh no.” You can’t tell if his concern is genuine or not, but it doesn’t matter to you. You’re ashamed, embarrassed, and defeated. He’s never going to let you live this down. You can already hear his future taunts buzzing around in your head. ‘You can’t pretend like you don’t like me when I’ve made you cum just by spanking your perfect little ass.’

God-fucking-damn it.

He has all the merit to tease you for it now, and you’re expecting him to—hell, you’re practically bracing yourself for it, but instead, he pulls his fingers back and pushes your bottom over, so you face him.

“Ah~Ow!” You wince when your butt hits the table.

“Ah. C’mere.” He frowns and pulls you up by the belt at your wrist. You don’t stop yourself from falling into his embrace. He might be the source of all of your dread, but he’s also your only means of comfort. You let your tears roll onto his chest, muffling your sobs into his shirt. He hushes you, nails tickling your back as he kisses your hair. “S’okay, princess. You’re okay. I’m here.”

“I’m s-sorry,” you cry, and though your wrists are still bound, you manage to clutch onto his shirt. You pull him into you, shamelessly reveling in the familiarity of his scent.

“Hmm?” He lifts your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “What for?”

Your lips tremble and you shake your head, unable to voice exactly what you’re sorry for. Climaxing? Telling him that you hate him? Treating him so poorly when all he does is take care of you? You shake your head again when the actualization of your situation sets into the forefront of your mind. There’s practically a river of tears streaming down your face now and you wish for nothing more than to do disappear, because you’re a stupid girl, there’s cake in your hair, and Stockholm syndrome is bullshit!

“What is it?” He insists, he is tone low, caring.

Dumb. You’re so dumb. Your brain is screaming at you to not say anything, but your skin still buzzes from the thrill of your orgasm. Despite loathing yourself more than ever, you’re practically high, both from catharsis and euphoria.

“I don’t...hate you.” It’s small but it’s there—your voice. There’s a lot to decode from your confession, and by the way Bakugou’s eyes soften just the tiniest bit, you know that he knows what you will not say..

His thumb brushes across the corner of your mouth, wiping away at some residual frosting, then brings it up to where your lips part.

“I know,” he says as you take him in again, swirling your tongue around his thumb, now enjoying the taste of the cake. “Of course I know.”

Your heart swells when he doesn’t laugh at you. He doesn’t even look all that proud of himself. He simply gazes at you with adoration and amazement—and, of course, lust because you have your lips wrapped around something. Prick.

“That was very hot, babe,” he says before kissing your forehead. “I really didn’t think that you could be so responsive to me.” He chuckles darkly, but it lacks his familiar malicious undertone. “Don’t really feel like I earned it, either.”

His thumb leaves your mouth, slides against your bottom lip, and is abruptly replaced with a kiss. Bakugou’s tongue teases your mouth open, then caresses yours with his. “Mmm,” he hums, the reverberations of his voice sending sensational buzzes down your neck. He nips at your bottom lip, then smirks against you. “Tastes good.”

He kisses you again, molding his lips perfectly to yours, and you feel his arousal poke at your bound hands. Not quite lucid enough to think it through, but feeling a bit mischievous yourself, you cup his girth through his trousers, rubbing his hard length up and down. You run your tongue against his, wanting to taste the power he has over you.

“You want me, baby?” Bakugou asks, pressing himself more firmly into your hands. “You wanna feel me slide inside that wet pussy of yours?”

Still not willing to give him a verbal confirmation, you squeeze his cock, legs wrapping around his torso to pull him closer to you. He growls when you have him grinding against your heat, a dark stain appearing on the prominent bulge he rubs against you. When he pulls away, you see that his pupils are blown, barely a sliver of his crimson iris to be seen. He looks moonstruck, predatory, and beautiful.

“Naughty girl,” he scolds, a tick in his jaw. He pushes you lightly, easing so that your back is on the table, your legs spread out for him. He groans when he runs a finger up your damp, clothed slit.

“I asked you a question,” he continues, playing with your core. He gets a dreamy look in his eye when he pulls your panties to the side, and feels exactly how wet you are for him. Then, he shoots a scathing glower your way. “Do. You. Want. Me. To. Fuck. You?”

“Yes,” you say with a nod. “I want you to fuck me, Katsuki.”

“That’s really too bad.” He snickers arrogantly and your heart falls into your stomach. Didn’t you just have a soft moment?! “Only good girls get fucked, pretty baby. You can’t confess your undying love for me and expect that gets you out of your punishment.”

“I did not!” You argue which earns you a dangerous look.

“You and I both know what the hell you meant,” he says with a threateningly sexy lilt. “You can’t take something like that back at the drop of a hat.”

”I think you’ve punished me enough already,” you bite out defensively, quick to change the subject, because you‘re bitterly aware that he’s right.

“And who are you to decide that?” He smirks, brushing a thumb across your pubic bone. “Thought you were my prisoner.”

“I didn’t mean that!”

“No?” Bakugou gets down to his knees, leveling his face with your center. “Actions speak louder than words, angelface.” He kisses your clit, making the same noise he does when he’s trying to bother you while eating, only when he does it on your cunt, all of your nerve endings catch flame and you’re spiraling back to needy senselessness. “Prove to me that you’ve earned my cock by riding my tongue.”

He’s nothing if not altruistic when he’s between your legs. He’s always been generous and dedicated to getting you off, but there’s something different about how he’s moving now. He uses the flat of his tongue and draws languid strokes up your entrance, taking his time while he swirls around your clit. He groans into you, and if the vibrations of his voice weren’t enough to finish you off then and there, his fingers sure as hell do it for you. He pushes them into you, reveling in the feel of your spongy walls hugging him tightly. He traces intricate patterns across your skin, mapping out the places that make you moan the loudest, just to be keen on teasing you for harrowing minutes. He’s going about this agonizing slow, but there’s something about him taking his time, rather than completely ravaging you to prove just how good he is at eating you out, that already has your walls clamping down around his fingers, your back arching, whimpers and pleas tumbling out of your mouth.

It hits you like a brisk wave crashing against the oceanic shoreline. First it was one liquescent sensation, then a pandemonium of your nerves roaring to life. Your thighs close against his head, locking him into place while your fingers twine with his hair. He moans into you, multiplying the excruciating thrill tenfold. You rock against his tongue, savoring this magnificently prolonged ecstatic escapade.

When your nerves cool down and you’re no longer twitching too much, Bakugou offers you a wry grin before licking his lips.

“Look at what a mess you’ve become,” he coos , kissing your shaking thighs, eyes locked on yours. “Was that all because of me, princess.”

“I...don’t think I’ve come so hard in my life.” You breathe, disoriented by the fact. “Oh my god.”

“That so?” He asks as his tongue travels up your thigh.

Bakugou fervently laps up your post-orgasmic juices all the way back up to your drenched cunt. He groans dramatically while his tongue dives back into you. You’re far too sensitive now, and he doesn’t stop—he likes having you squirm around, bucking your hips this was and that, all attempts at finding an escape for his erotic torture futile. Soon he has you spasming out of control for the third time this night, and he rides the waves of your grudging pleasure with delight.

“K-katsukiiii, pleeease!” You’re breathless, hot, and irrational. He has a large hand gripped tightly on your side while three fingers continue to curl inside of you. “I can’t t-take it anymore! It’s t-too much!”

“What? You don’t think you’ve got another one in you?” He keeps your eyes locked on his as his hands push your thighs farther apart, his tongue slowly gliding across your throbbing clit.

You shake your head, practically sputtering your pleas. “I will do whatever you want, so please-“

‘’S that right?” Bakugou grins up at you, smug and triumphant. He pushes you farther up on the table and climbs over you, one hand at the side of your head, holding him up—the other reaching out to grab a coin-sized piece of cake. He presses it against your mouth as he prompts you with an, “ahh.”

“Ah,” you mimic and he pushes the cake into your mouth. The moment you swallow is the moment his lips latch onto yours. You taste your headiness mixing in with the creamy texture of the cake and you can’t help but moan openly into his mouth.

Bakugou ends the kiss too soon, catching you out of breath and wanting more.

“You can be a good girl, can’t you?” His voice is raspy, thick with need, and you know he’s close to falling apart. You want him to. You need him to. He’s broken you, so it’s only just that he breaks sometimes too.

You nod, cautious to see what he’ll be doing next. He’s certainly not taking off his pants, which was the only thing he should be doing.

He moves your arms over his shoulders and leans down low, breath hot on your ear. “You’ll do anything for my cock?”

“Yes,” you sigh and wish more than anything for your hands to be free so tear his shirt off.

“Because you don’t hate me at all. In fact, you fuckin’ love me. You love everything I do to you, but you’re too stubborn to admit it. That right?”

You scowl ahead, teeth clenched. “Yes.”

He draws a line with his tongue against the most sensitive part of your neck, making you shudder, and asks, “yes, what, princess?”

You narrow your eyes. “Yes, I am stubborn.”

With a “teh!” Bakugou kisses your cheek and leads you up so that you’re sitting straight, and guides you both carefully off the table, sweeping you up to carry you so that you don’t step in any of the food you’ve tossed around. He cradles you in his arms, you half-naked, him fully dressed, and smiles sardonically.

“I’m not gonna make you say it, because it is your birthday, but I will have you know that your punishment is not over.”

“You’re kidding me!” You bark back, leaning away to look him in the eyes to see if he’s serious.

“Sorry, baby.” He laughs. “But I had a romantic evening planned out for the two of us and you just had to throw your little bratty tantrums.”

“What do I have to do—?”

“—to get me to fuck you?”

“Yes!”

“You’re going to take a shower, put on that fuckin’ dress, then we’re gonna do this whole dinner thing over again. If you can behave, then maybe—maybe you’ll get my cock. If not—well princess, history tends to repeat itself, but I was hoping we could act like a normal couple just for one night. Thought maybe you’d be into it too, but that’s not what you want at all, is it?”

“I...want to be a normal couple,” you say unenthusiastically. You’re not sure if you meant you wanted to be a normal couple with Bakugou or if you wanted to be free and normal with somebody else entirely.

Bakugou snickers, as if you said something childish. “No you don’t.”

“Because you think I don’t want to be with you.”

“Nah...I know you want to be with me. But you don’t want to be a normal couple. You want this, babe. You want what we have. You want the chaos. You revel in it.”

“Well, I—“ you begin, desperate to find an argument point that doesn’t make you sound dumb. Is he right? Do you enjoy this? Everyday is like a game with him, and it drives you up the fucking wall, but what would you be without it?

“I hope you can keep your self-control,” you retort flippantly, abandoning the argument. “Hope your dick didn’t burst your buttons, Katsuki.” Your gaze drops down to the tent in his pants, then snaps pointedly back at his face.

He’s absolutely unfazed. In fact, he’s more chipper than you’ve ever seen him—like he’s the cat who caught the mouse. “Just for that, I’m gonna join you in the shower. Keep my belt around those wrists and have you watch me wash myself—see all that you’re missing out on.”

You groan, head falling into his chest as he begins walking towards the stairs. “I really do fucking hate you.”

“Keep tellin’ yourself that, sweetheart,” he says back, a smile in his voice. “Just as long as you know that you’re not the only person here that knows how to play keep away.”

#bnha x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #mha x reader #yandere!bakugou #yandere!bakugou x reader #yandere bnha #yandere male #bnha yandere #yandere au #bnha au #bnha imagines #bnha reader insert #reader insert #tw yandere #katsuki x reader

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suttttton · 4 years

Text

An Invitation

How do you get Jonathan Sims to go on a date with you? Easy. Step one: Trick him by giving him a fake statement filled with puzzles that lead him to the date location of your choice. Step two: Profit?

---

“Jon,” Sasha says, leaning against his desk.

“Hmm?” He doesn’t look up from his work.

“D’you want to get lunch with me today?” she asks. It’s just a casual question. They’ve gotten lunch together before, and she knows that Jon won’t interpret her question in a romantic way, but her stomach still thrums with nervousness. It’s… different, now that she’s decided to let herself have a crush on him. Now that she’s decided that, eventually, she’ll ask him on a real date.

He doesn’t even look at her, just shakes his head. “Can’t, I’m a bit swamped this week. I’ve got a lot of—things…” he trails off, drawn back into his work. The exciting world of follow-up research. She stands there for another minute, just watching him, knowing that he has forgotten her entirely. It’s one of those things that should be annoying, but is really just… deeply endearing. Ugh.

She’s going to ask him on that date soon.

***

When she asks Jon out, she tries to be obvious about it. Jon has a hard time reading social signals at the best of times, and she wants to make things easy for him. She’s not the most comfortable with grand gestures, but she’s got a bit theater kid in her yet, and she’s sure she can make it work.

She finds Jon in the break room, eating a bowl of microwavable soup and staring blankly at nothing. Very adorable. She knocks twice on the table, getting his attention, and he blinks once and smiles at her.

“Jon, there’s something I want to ask you,” she says. She can feel heat rising in her face. God, this is about to be embarrassing. She really, really hopes he doesn’t turn her down. (Why would he turn you down, James? You’re a catch.)

She gets on one knee, takes his hand. “Jonathan Sims,” she says dramatically. “Would you do me the honor of coming to dinner with me on Friday?”

He looks at her, and his eyebrows furrow. “Sorry Sasha,” he says, “but I can’t. I requested some books, and they’re supposed to arrive Friday. I was planning to get started on them Friday evening.”

She sighs. She’d take it as a graceful rejection, if she hadn’t seen Jon reject people before. He got nervous and stuttery and hyper-apologetic. He doesn’t look at all uncomfortable now, just confused as to why she’s on the floor.

He doesn’t know that she’s trying to ask him on a date.

Later, replaying the scene in her mind, she realizes what the problem was. They were at work. Even with her making it as dramatic as possible, the environment was too casual. She asked him to do platonic activities with her all the time while they were at work—why would he assume differently?

She needs to ask him when they aren’t at the Institute, somewhere where she can make a whole presentation of it. She’ll buy him flowers, sweep him off his feet.

Except.

He keeps turning down her offers to spend time together. When he isn’t busy with follow-up, he’s busy researching the Leitner books. It’s… stupidly endearing. And unhealthy. Jon doesn’t look unwell, really, but he does look… stressed, hunched over his desk all day. Jon needs a break from work, not just so she can ask him on a date, but also so he doesn’t drive himself into a nervous breakdown.

Sasha hatches a plan.

***

It doesn’t take long to put together. Just an evening, researching cryptic puzzles, scouting out locations that aren’t too far from the Institute, writing a nonsensical statement in the ‘I saw a ghost in a graveyard and it was spooky’ vein.

The only problem is how to get the fake statement into Jon’s caseload without him noticing. She can’t just drop it on his desk, not with him there all day long. She could get Lydia involved, but she isn’t sure the Head of Research would approve of her plan, and even if she did, Lydia is a bad liar. Jon would know something was up.

In the end, Jon solves the problem for her. He leans back in his chair, hisses over to her, “Sasha! Swap with me?”

“Spiders?” she asks, and he winces, nods. She holds out her hand, and flicks through the offending file. It has all the hallmarks of a false statement, but—

“I felt thousands of legs swarming over me, filling up my mouth, my nose—”

She snaps the folder shut, wrinkling her nose. “No problem,” she says. She hands Jon the fake statement. “You can take this one, I haven’t gotten started on it yet.”

“Thanks,” he says, smiling. Her stomach flips, and she watches for a few moments longer as he gets to work.

***

It would be suspicious for her to be staring at Jon the entire time he’s working on the statement, so instead she just glances over every once in a while, making sure he doesn’t immediately drop the statement in the ‘discredited’ pile.

He doesn’t. Instead, his frown deepens as he’s drawn in, trying to figure out the puzzle she’s left for him. The statement is clearly fake, but a few of the words are—wrong. Nonsensical. Gibberish.

She sees Jon go over and over the text, marking every strange word. Then he picks up his phone, dials the number listed on the statement. It’s a disconnected number, and Jon’s frown deepens.

He thinks for a few seconds, tapping his fingers on his desk. Then he pulls out a notepad, begins writing on it, consulting the statement to transcribe the strange words exactly.

At that point, Sasha knows she has him. Jon loves puzzles, and now that he knows there’s a puzzle to solve in the statement, he’s not going to stop until he figures it out.

It’s a simple Caesar cipher, with the phone number as its key. It yields the message:

Here are the coordinates:

CH.HCGDHCGFYERE, -HB.KGICCECIF0WI

In order to crack the coordinates, Jon simply has to replace each letter with its numerical position in the alphabet. Jon is smart, he’ll figure it out. The coordinates belong to a cryptid-themed restaurant in America called the Moth Man Urban Legends Bar and Grille.

Once, the Moth Man Urban Legends Bar and Grill website landing page contained several blurry photos of “Moth Man,” along with a somehow even blurrier photo of a restaurant menu. Now, it’s a nightmarish jumble of the strangest stock photos Sasha could find, along with a single hyperlink that just says, “Click me!”

(Sasha included this step because she finds it deeply entertaining to watch Jon click on the shadiest links possible. It’s revenge for all the viruses she’s had to clean off his computer.)

The link leads to a much more tasteful webpage. It’s has a single picture of a rose on it, and below that it just says, “An Invitation”. Then it gives the address of a very cute little cafe just a short walk from the Institute. Beneath that, “Tonight. 7:00pm.”

It takes about an hour for Jon to figure out the Caesar cipher, and after that he works through the puzzle quickly. It’s a delight, watching his face when he sees “Moth Man Urban Legends Bar and Grille,” and even better when he sees the monstrosity she’s made of their website.

He clicks the link without even a second of hesitation, which almost makes Sasha laugh out loud. And then he’s just staring at the invitation. He opens a new tab, opens Google Maps, puts in the address. She sees the back-in-forth in his head—‘Tonight’ has probably long since passed, and he isn’t likely to find anything if he shows up at the cafe at 7:00pm tonight.

But Jon is stubborn, and if he doesn’t go ‘Tonight,’ it’ll eat at him. She’s trapped him. He’ll show up. She’s certain of it.

***

She debates for a long time if she should wear a dress, or a button-up shirt and tie. She decides on the tie. It has ferns on it, and she needs the calming vibes.

It’s starting to sink in, what she’s done.

Why didn’t she just say, “Jon, I am asking you on a date”? That would have been so much easier! Christ, she’s tricked her crush into going on a date with her. What kind of creep does that?

She’s terrified Jon will be angry with her. Or worse, hurt. This whole thing is technically a prank. What if Jon thinks she’s just… making fun of him?

She stops by a flower shop on her way there, and the shop assistant asks what she needs, and she’s so nervous by then that she actually says, “I tricked my friend into going on a date with me, and I need flowers that will prevent him from hating me forever.”

“Right,” the man says, uncertainly. “Well—” And then he makes Sasha a very, very nice arrangement because, unlike Sasha, he isn’t a complete mess.

Sasha arrives at the cafe thirty minutes early, because she knows Jon. She knows he’ll want to stake out the place ahead of time. She knows she has to arrive ridiculously early to beat him there.

But apparently, she’s underestimated him because he’s already there.

He’s seated at a table in the corner, where he can see the entire dining room. He’s still wearing his clothes from work, and there’s a pastry in front of him.

He’s watching the door, of course he is, so he sees her come in.

“Sasha!” he calls, waving wildly at her. It makes something pang in her chest, that Jon’s instinct upon seeing her in a public place is to excitedly greet her. She certainly isn’t that kind of person.

She smiles, walks over to him. Her fingers are curled tightly around the flowers, crinkling the paper just slightly.

“Do you have a date tonight?” he asks, looking her over, his eyes still flicking back and forth between her and the door.

“I hope so,” she says.

He frowns. “Are they late? Or—”

She hands him the flowers. “These are for you.”

He looks at them, bewildered, then back at Sasha. “What—”

“The invitation was from me,” Sasha says, sitting down across from him. “I faked the statement, and I made the puzzles.”

He stares at her for moment, then at the flowers, then back at her. She waits for him to yell at her, or run off, or—she doesn’t know.

Then he starts laughing. It’s—wonderful, when he laughs. He always tries to hide his face, and this time he decides to use the flowers for that purpose, stifling his giggles against the petals. “Sasha, I—I thought it was going to be the, the Mob, or something.”

Sasha can’t help but start laughing too. “You thought the Mob sent secret messages to each other using a Caesar cipher?”

“I don’t know!” Jon says. “This is—” He lets out a long breath. “Well, I did enjoy the—game, I suppose.”

They look at each other for a long moment.

“Wait,” Jon says. “So I’m your date?”

“If you want to be,” Sasha says.

Jon smiles. “I—” He laughs again. “Yes. Of course I do.”

#tma #tma fic #my fic #jonsasha #fluff #this idea grabbed me this morning and wouldn't let go until i wrote it #i just love Agent of Chaos!Sasha so much

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macybeckham7 · 4 years

Text

Nine Months -Ben Chilwell

October 2019

Ben found himself in nightclub in London and because it was Halloween it was the perfect excuse for the girls to dress up as sluts. Ben couldn’t help but crinkle his nose up at some of the girls, who was practically not leaving anything to the imagination. He looked at the girls that James and Demarai invited over. His eyes roamed around and saw a girl who looked gorgeous, she was in a cow girl, wearing short shorts and knee high cow print boots.

He decided to take his chance and walk towards the girl. He felt his heart rate rise as his eyes met with hers, and she was definitely even more goodlooking up close. He offered to by her a drink which she instantly agreed. The pair talked and drank and danced and had a good time. He learned her name was YN which was the perfect name for a stunning girl like her.

James appeared and introduced himself as Ben’s ‘wing man’ which she instantly sassed that he wasn’t a good one then as he came over by himself. James making a cheeky comment about Ben bagging a cow girl because they are good at riding, which instantly made her fake gag at his awful joke.

The two of of them decided to leave the club and call it a night. They both went back to YN’s place and into bed together.

November 2019

It had been a month since Ben walked out on her the next morning as if he had never been there. The two did swap numbers and YN didn’t want to be the one to slide into his DMs. But hadn’t stopped her friends for telling her everything the guy seems to do. Whether he has got a goal for Leicester or if he has got into the England call up.

It was mid November when YN started to feel alittle funny, her friend instantly telling her to take a pregnancy test which she does was complaining all the way through. Sat on her bed with her bed friend beside her she felt like her whole world had just paused and in slow motion as she looked at the two lines that means positive she was pregnant. She felt herself getting nervous as she questioned how she was going to tell Ben. Should she even tell him?

YN was pacing outside of Wembley stadium where England played, everytime the door opened she looked like a little meerkat hoping to find Ben walking towards the coach. But nothing. He was one of the last ones out, he was laughing and joking with a brunette guy with loads of freckles covering his face and a olive skinned toned guy with a cross earring.

‘Ben’ she calls reaching out for him.

He instantly recognised her, he told the guys to go without him, his hand was in hers as he distanced them away from the fans.

‘Why did you just up and bolt?’ She mutters. ‘Was I just a quick shag for you, wasn’t I good enough?’ She rambles.

His face softens. ‘I was late, I had a meeting that day’ he explained.

She didn’t believe him. He could of left a note to tell her or even wake her up, anything was better than leaving her high and dry.

She lets out a shaky breath before handing him the test. ‘Just thought you would like to know.. I don’t want anything from you’ she says before turning hot on her heels and walking off.

He was about to chase after her but James appeared and told him to get on the bus.

December 2019

Ben was sat beside YN as she winced slightly as she felt the cold gel on her stomach. The midwife spoke to the two of them as she talked about mummy and baby classes that they could go to before the baby arrives. Asking the two whether they are going to find out what they were having or if they have any names ready. Ben noticed as she gave a blank look, he answering for her and getting the lady of their backs. The three of them looked at the monitor with a confused look as there was nothing there but the midwife knew exactly what she was looking at.

The two of them decided to go for coffee in the hospital, he walks with two hot chocolate and slides one over to her.

‘Why did you come?’ YN questions.

His brows furrow at her. ‘Because I don’t want you to go through this alone, I know this was a drunken night out and neither of us planned this but I want to be there for you and my child’ he says softly. ‘If you’ll allow me that is’ he mutters.

She nods her head slowly before sipping her drink.

‘We should start thinking of telling family’ he mutters as he sees her wince.

He held her hand before knocking on his parents door, they had already told YN’s parents and now it was time to meet the Chilwell’s. They were surprised when they saw their son wasn’t alone, as they sat around the dining table YN couldn’t help but feel awkward as they tried to find out the pretty female was to their son.

‘I’m pregnant’ she announces, before see Ben’s face scrunch up slightly wanting to announce it a little bit more delicately.

Their reacts was probably how you imagined, his mum jumped up and walked out leaving you with his sister and brother. The three of the stayed quiet as they heard them call her every name under the sun. As they left YN muttering a small ‘that couldn’t of went any more worse’.

January 2020

YN was now four months into her pregnancy and Ben was always round when he wasn’t training or at games. He started waiting on her hand and foot. He made sure that she had everything she needed in the house and catered to her craving.

The two of them had got to know each other more, wanting to have a better relationship as the two of them were always going to be connected with this little person.

The two sat on the sofa with the two bidding names that they liked.

‘Curtis?’ YN questioned.

‘Absolutely not’ Ben chuckled.

‘I like Jamie for a girl’ YN announces.

‘Jamie Chilwell’ he says slowly before they both crinkled their noses and shook their heads.

‘Saint?’ Ben suggests.

YN bursts out laughing. ‘We’re not boujee enough for that’

February 2020

Ben had told YN that she could live with him, not really wanting her living alone and being close whenever he needed him.

He had a girl round when YN came walking into the living room gushing that the baby has kicked. Ben instantly jumped up and ran towards her, his hands instantly on her growing stomach. The girl stayed sat on the sofa as she watched the two freeze as they waited for movement. There was a suddenly squeal coming from the two as Ben instantly sinks to his knees.

‘That was amazing, that was a big kick’ he gushed. ‘Practicing your free kicks buddy’ he giggles.

He has recently got in his head that the baby is a boy and started pushing his favourite names.

‘Sorry to interrupt but who is this?’ The girl spoke up.

The two looking at, suddenly remembering that they weren’t alone in and realising how weird this looked. Ben stepped away from YN and the bump as he looked awkward.

‘I’m....’ she starts.

‘My sister, she’s my sister’ he quickly cutting her off. YN raises her brows at him as he tells her to go to his bedroom and he’ll meet her in their.

The girl smiles at YN and then walks down the hall.

‘Oh will me and the bump be your cock block’ she rolls her eyes at her. ‘Wear a condom this time, don’t want to be in this mess again’ she sasses.

She sits in the kitchen alone as she hears everything the two is getting up to as she eats icecream from the tub.

March 2020

‘Are you uncomfortable?’ James instantly freaks as he sees her wince and runs her hand over her bump.

She shakes her head as she lets James guides her to sit down.

After the last month situation, they both spoke about Ben not bringing any girls back. It hurt YN even though she wouldn’t admit it, she thought they were going well, even thought they could even try to be a thing. The two of them were so alike they even started finishing eachothers sentences.

‘I need to get the nursery done’ YN groans as James doesn’t let her get up.

‘You need to take it slow’ he mutters. ‘Let Ben do it’ he says softly.

She instantly bursts into tears. ‘Where is he? He missed the scan’ she cries, as he pulls her into him.

Ben comes waltzing through the door and sees his best mate with his baby mumma, he couldn’t help but burst out laughing. Mentioning that before they jump into bed wait till this baby gets out. YN jumps up and barges past him before pushing the scan into his chest.

May 2020

The past two months James has been the middle person between YN and Ben, they have been arguing a lot more and YN has really began to hate Ben with him saying some really mean things to her. They learned that they were having a boy. Whenever YN needed something she didn’t want anything from Ben, even though he was so desperate to help. Her comeback was to go to his latest slut.

James just wishing he could just banging their heads together and tell them to act like grown ups. He knew that they will be amazing parents but they needed to get on as they were on the same team.

‘Guys the baby is coming in 2 months let’s get your shit together’ he sassed.

He looks at his friend gives him a stern look.

‘You are old enough to fuck and get pregnant, act your age’ he mutters before leaving them.

Ben lets out a small sigh before sitting beside her. Her head going to his shoulder as they start having it out with eachother.

July 2020

‘BABE!’ YN calls in a panic tone which gets Ben running towards her voice. ‘My waters-‘ she says.

He instantly starts panicking looking like a stressed sim. She held onto the sink as he panicked called his mum. He was surprised when he looked over at YN she was starting a bath. He helped her in the bath and relaxed in there and overcome a few of her contractions.

A few hours went by of YN relaxing at home and riding her contractions, Ben being completely on edge.

The Labour was a few hours and Ben instantly burst into tears as the midwife places the large baby on YN’s chest. YN let out a small crying laugh as she looks down at her little man. Ben kissing her forehead as he tells her how proud he was of her.

‘Luke James Chilwell’ YN gushes.

They both gush over the little creation they made, the last crazy nine months completely forgotten about because it was now about the next eighteen years of being the best parents to this little guy. Neither of them would of believed when they were at that Halloween party that their lives would change forever.

#ben chilwell imagines #ben chilwell blurbs #ben chilwell

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aurora--briar · 4 years

Photo

Get together with your employees/coworkers and create a floorplan for your business! You can use any medium you want: the Sims, floorplan programs (here is a good one), or draw it and take a picture! (Or do it in Microsoft paint, w/e). (If you don’t have a business, do your character’s house, make sure to do it with the people you live with!)

ignore measurements we couldn’t get rid of them and this is just the idea of how it all looks

Princess House:

@cinderellaashbourne @almosttiana @aurora-rosewood

Basics: 3 Bedroom, 2 1/2 Bath, Sitting Room, Kitchen + Dining Area, Garden (Back and Front), Conservatory.

Aurora’s Room:

Originally Aurora had set up in the Master bedroom but with her new roommate and Willa, Aurora switched with Ella taking a slightly smaller room but as long as it fit her plants she’s more than okay. Lolly’s got her dog bed in the corner and Aurora’s bed is pressed against the window for sun.

She has a desk in the other side of the room where she keeps a lot of her handmade paper and any sorcery books. She keeps her wand accessible at all times usually on the stand with all those succulents. Hidden behind a few plants is an old picture of her family from the last time she saw them.

Garden

There really isn’t a good picture that could explain what the garden looks like. First off it’s a mix of looking almost overgrown but when you take a look you should be able to appreciate the twists and turns of all the plants. Most of the plants are all something Aurora can use in spells but anything that might be a little more dangerous is located in the back. Along with the garden that Aurora take care of, Ella has a plot for a veggie garden that she is showing Tiana how to garden veggie’s as well.

Aurora spends at least an hour in the garden every day if not more because it’s a large task. All the crops are definitely going to come out well with Aurora looking after them.

Conservatory

This was the main point of the house that got Aurora wanting to live in this house. Attached to the back of the house you can walk out into the conservatory which Aurora had placed most of her plants. There’s a little sitting table that the girls will have tea at. There’s so many windows that you might as well be outside.

Tiana’s Room

Tiana's room is pretty bare right now-- just her bed, a somewhat-messy desk where she does work for the restaurant, and a small closet that she tries to clean out twice a year. Tiana hates clutter, but it tends to accumulate when she gets busy. The shelves over her bed hold pictures of her friends and family as well as her diploma from culinary school and some prints of her culinary icons: Leah Chase, Julia Child, Tanya Holland. She also has a photo of her father on her bedside table next to a plant that Tiana adopted after seeing how much Aurora loves greenery. Her window lets in lots of sunlight and Tiana only turns the light on when it's very dark outside.

Kitchen

The kitchen is small but lively, and Tiana was mostly excited that the appliances were nicer than what she had gotten used to in Benbow. She tries to keep the space tidy, but on days when she cooks more complex meals, the kitchen can get very cluttered. With some help from Aurora and Ella, Tiana has a small herb garden on the window that she draws on from time to time when cooking and natural light comes in through the windows on sunny days. Tiana likes to listen to music when she cooks, so it's not uncommon to come home from work and hear motown or disco blasting from that part of the house.

Ella’s Room

Ella very graciously accepted the room from Aurora when she moved in, which means she has enough room for herself and a nursery nook for Willa. She’s tried to create a space for each of them, with her bed, desk and wardrobe to one side, and Willa’s crib, a comfy chair for story time, her toy chest and other things toward the other side of the room. There isn’t as much foliage in her room as in the rest of the house, but she does still have a few potted plants dotted around the place. She has a lot of books, and her sewing machine is tucked away in the corner, and there’s a little cosy space for the mice if they want to stay inside. Like the others she likes a lot of light in her room, so unless Willa is sleeping she tries to keep the curtains open to catch as much light as possible.

Sitting Room

The sitting room has a modern boho vibe that fits the rest of the house, featuring lots of repurposed furniture, nice soft furnishings, and of course plants. Ella tries to keep it as tidy as possible, but there are quite often toys lying about the place. The sitting room can be really cosy of an evening, and it’s a good space to share for movie nights.

#bdrpwrimoashley #bdrpwrimobee #bdrpwrimoemma

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talkfastromance4 · 5 years

Text

For Your Eyes Only--bodyguard!Ashton [Chapter Two]

Summary: Ashton Irwin is the head of security for Princess Alouette who is a kind, gentle young woman. Secretly pining for one another, those feelings will soon come to light as an occurrence will change Alouette’s life forever, and Ashton’s.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: a guy hitting on Alouette

Author’s note: This story is near and dear to my heart, please give it a chance!❤❤❤❤❤

Masterlist

Chap. 1

If you’d like to chat with me, please do so here. I’d love feedback!

____________________________

The next day is spent of them shopping along the streets of Barcelona and Ashton had his three best confidants, Michael, Calum and Luke to follow the Princess and Neva around while they did their shopping. It was a warm day with the sun beating down on them and at one point Ashton pulled out a tube of sunscreen striding up to Alouette who just put her hair in a ponytail.

“Here my lady, for your neck and nose,” he hands her the tube which she takes, her bracelet sparkles in the Spanish sun.

“You’re a lifesaver,” she sighs popping the tab and applies it right away.

“Security man,” Neva pipes up looking to Ashton.

“Yes, Neva?”

“Since it’s so warm, how about we go to the beach? There’s a private one not too far from my home.”

“Neve,” Alouette shoots her best friend a warning look as she applies the sunscreen to her nose and cheeks. Neva knows how Ashton is about her safety and now she’s spewing out a random beach trip?

“How many people frequent there?” Ashton immediately goes into security detail mode.

“A handful, maybe ten. It’s mainly just me and a neighbor or two but usually it’s just me. I promise it’s safe otherwise I wouldn’t have suggested it,” Neva smiles radiantly.

Alouette sighs, Ashton glances at her then at Neva.

“I’ll make a call. This is the only spontaneous thing we’ll be doing this weekend,” he warns taking back the sunscreen that Alouette hands him when she’s finished.

“Wait, really?” Alouette’s eyebrows raise in shock that he actually agreed to the plan.

“Really,” he answers her softly, “I know how much you love the beach, my lady. Let me make a few calls while you finish shopping then we can head back to the villa.”

•••

Ashton’s breath hitches when he sees Alouette yanking off her sundress to reveal a peach colored swimsuit. It fits her perfectly with small gems adorning the breasts that shimmer and sparkle in the sunlight. He tries—and fails—to keep his eyes from lowering to her ass as she runs to the edge of the water but it’s toned and tan and—

“Put your shades on if you’re going to check her out, mate,” Calum snickers standing next to him in the sand.

“What are you on about?” Ashton clears his throat.

“You were totally checking the Princess out while she was running just now. Are you ever going to act on your feelings for her?”

“I don’t have feelings for her,” Ashton slips his shades down anyway though. “I’m her head security guard, nothing can ever happen.”

“It’s been three years, Ash. Three years that you’ve been in love with her and I think she feels the same way.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“She never takes off that bracelet you got her and Luke says she always gets antsy when you’re not around.”

“First of all, that was a gift and second of all it’s because she trusts me to protect her, not because she’s in love with me.”

“Look, I get the risks that could come with it but you know her like the back of your hand and she knows you, too.”

“It’s my job, Calum. Drop it and keep an eye out,” Ashton commands and turns his gaze back to Alouette who is splashing in the water with Neva. He clasps his hands together in front of him and tries not to think about what Calum has said.

•••

Later that night after everyone sang ‘Feliz cumpleaños’ to Neva, Alouette is at the dessert table trying to find a sweet treat to eat. Ashton is nearby and tenses when he notices a young man approaching her.

The man’s white linen shirt is completely open revealing tattoos on his chest and gold chains hang around his neck accompanied by a confident smirk as he approaches her. He sidles up next to her saying something in her ear; Ashton isn’t close enough to hear what he’s saying but Alouette smiles brightly and turns to him.

Ashton keeps watch as the interaction unfolds in front of him. The guy rests his hand on Alouette’s lower back, a little too low for Ashton’s liking and he clenches his jaw. Then the guy runs his finger over Alouette’s lips as he drunkenly sings

“Alouette, gentile alouette,

Alouette, je te plumerai…”

Alouette’s body language sets Ashton into action as the guy’s hand lowers onto her bum and his face inches closer to hers. She’s trying to get out of his grasp and Ashton can hear her protests but the guy persists with his slurred singing. Ashton is in between them instantly, pushing the guy forcefully back.

“I think it’s time for you to go,” Ashton warns, his voice icy.

“Ah c’mon, chico! It’s a party! She needs to loosen up, let’s go querida.”

“I don’t think you heard me,” Ashton’s voice turns severe as he steps closer towering over him. “You don’t touch her, you don’t approach her. Leave or I’ll make you.”

Ashton turns around to ask Alouette if she’s all right when the guy darts around Ashton and tries to grab her. Alouette screams and Ashton elbows the man in the jaw making him stumble away from her but Ashton is quick and grabs him by his collar throwing a punch to his nose. Blood flows instantly and Luke is in front of Ashton.

“Get him out of here,” Ashton mumbles shoving him away into Luke’s strong arms.

The guy is slurring curses in Spanish but Ashton couldn’t care less because he turns to Alouette who is visibly shaken after the altercation. He approaches her slowly with his hand out as if he’s offering his trust to a frightened dog, her eyes are downcast to the cobbled stone of the balcony.

“Are you all right, my lady?” he asks her gently making sure to keep a safe distance from her in case she was scared of him.

Her eyes slide up to meet his as another shiver courses through her body. Tears are pooling in her big blue eyes and Ashton’s heart aches.

“I’m fine,” she whispers folding her arms across her chest.

That’s a telltale sign she’s withdrawing within herself and Ashton knows she needs to be somewhere quiet. With the loud music and even louder party guests, he knows it won’t be happening here.

“Let’s head inside, yeah?” he motions his arm forward while his other hand hovers behind her as she takes tentative steps to the doors leading inside.

He figured they’d go to the kitchen so he could get her a glass of water but when she walks past the kitchen he’s curious to see where she’s headed. They walk past the living room and the dining room, her heels clacking on the tiled floor until she turns left into the large bathroom. Ashton stops at the doorway wanting to respect her privacy but she keeps the door open and he purses his lips watching her.

She washes her hands quickly-- it’s as if she’s trying to find something to do-- and dries them before moving to the toilet. She sits down with her head in her hands as she cries silently into them.

Without a second thought Ashton rushes into the room closing the door so no one disturbs her and kneels in front of her.

“Are you hurt? Did he hurt you? Where’s the pain?” he asks frantically, eyes scanning over her body but he doesn’t see blood or any mark of concern. She continues to cry in her hands and Ashton starts to get even more worried. “My lady, talk to me please so I can help.”

She takes a shuddering breath before removing her shaking hands from her face. Her cheeks and eyelashes are wet but her makeup isn’t smudged because Ashton knows she wears high quality stuff. He looks into her sad eyes trying to figure out what’s going on in her head.

“I’m so tired,” she sighs finally and rubs under her eyes with her palms.

“Let’s get you to bed then. We can—“

“No, Ashton,” she sniffs, “Not that kind of tired. I’m tired of . . . being me, sometimes. It’s so hard to keep this face on all the time, where nothing appears to bother me but so many things do. I’m tired of being wary. I’m tired of always thinking someone is out to get me and I’m. . . I’m tired of waking up scared. Every day.”

“I can promise you that you don’t have to worry about getting hurt, it’s my job to protect you and I will never let anything happen to you,” he says with conviction and grabs her a tissue.

He desperately wants to hold her so he can console her better, but he can’t.

“I know,” she sighs, “that’s another thing I’m tired of.”

“My protection?”

“I appreciate your protection, more than you’ll know but I hate how it’s your whole life. Have you slept at all since we got here?” she asks.

To his surprise her thumb touches the dark circles he knows he has under his eyes. He jumps at her delicate touch as her other thumb moves to his other eye.

“An hour here and there,” he says swallowing thickly. He feels his skin warm where her gentle touch continues to linger.

“You need to sleep, Ashton,” she reprimands gently.

“I’ll get around to it,” he shrugs. “I’m sorry you’re feeling this way, my lady, I wish I could take it all away for you.”

Her thumbs stop rubbing under his eyes and her fingers move up to his forehead probing along his hairline. Ashton watches her, heart pounding in his ears as she admires his face and trails her fingers along his cheeks.

“Why don’t you call me by my name?” she asks stroking his cheek with the backs of her fingers while her other hand brushes his hair away from his forehead.

“Because it’d be crossing the line of my profession,” he says.

He regrettably grabs hold of her wrists to pull her soft touches off him. This is the first time he’s touched her this way and he can feel the cool of her bracelet beneath his fingertips.

“It’s been three years Ashton, I think we’re past the professionalism of our relationship.”

He closes his eyes at the word relationship and takes a deep breath. He pushes his desires down, he can’t give in to them, he simply can’t because it would complicate things. He doesn’t realize he’s stroking the inside of her wrists until he opens his eyes to look into hers. Her face is dangerously close to his.

“I can’t,” he whispers pulling away.

“Why not? It’s just my name.”

He sighs then releases her wrists and stands up, she gazes up at him with a saddened look.

“It’s a beautiful name, my lady, for a beautiful woman. But I can’t, it will change things. I’ll be outside if you want to return to the party.”

Each step away from her pangs his heart and when he opens the door, he has to force himself not to look at her. He hears her sniff and curses himself because now he’s the reason for her tears.

#ashton irwin #ashton irwin fic #ashton writing #ashton irwin writing #ashton 5sos #ashton 5sos writing #ashton fluff #ashton smut #5sos writings #ashton imagine #calum hood #luke hemmings #bodyguard! ashton #ashton irwin imagine #ashton irwin fluff #ashton irwin smut

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its-rockin-pete · 5 years

Text

Extended Drabble Pt.2

Chapter 4

I wake up to somebody gently nudging the back of my shoulder. I deeply inhale before turning over to see who’s trying to get me out of bed- I blink a couple of times to focus my eyes that are still heavy with sleep and see Albert standing next to my bunk.

“Hey- I know you’re not a morning person, but I think you should give yourself some time to wake up before we start the fear sims today. I was thinking maybe we could grab some breakfast together and then go for a jog or something if we have time?” He sounds nervous.

I smile at the gesture- He’s right, I should probably prepare myself before being thrown head-first into a mental prison in which the only way out is to face my fears.

“Yeah-” my sentence is interrupted with a yawn- “That sounds great actually…” I sit up and push my blanket off of myself, feeling the cold air embrace my body through my long-sleeved shirt. “Just let me get dressed and then we can head to the dining hall.”

He smiles and nods before walking towards the stairs, passing Peter on his way up the steps.

Great.

I act like I didn’t just see him and stand up to begin getting ready.

Don’t talk to me, don’t talk to me, please don’t talk to me.

Just as I start looking through my drawer for an outfit, he opens his mouth.

“Hey, Doormat, you’re up early for a Monday morning.”

“What do you want?” I continue to look through my clothes, keeping my eyes down to make it clear that I'm not exactly in the chatty mood today.

“I wanted to talk about your little boy toy. Saw you guys sneak out last night. Where’d you go? Did you two need some privacy? Was the dorm a little too public for you?”

I stand up and set my folded clothes on the bed, still not making any eye contact with him. Even though I’m pissed off and embarrassed beyond belief, I respond calmly.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to, but I would appreciate it if you left me alone.”

“You’re a liar. A pretty horrible one too, your face is beet red and your hands are shaking.”

Goddamned ex-Candor.

“Why are you so concerned about it? It's none of your business and it never will be your business. Maybe you should focus on your own life before worrying about mine.”

He scoffs and I can see him cross his arms and lean against my bunk out of the corner of my eye. At this point, I'm just fumbling with my clothes so I look like I have a reason to not be looking at Peter- there's no way in hell I’m undressing in front of him during an argument.

“Oh, that's strange coming from you. You seemed to be pretty interested in my life the last time we talked.” He briefly pauses- “Hey, how are your mommy issues panning out, you alright?”

I finally turn to look at his dumb smug face- Blood tickles my cheeks as it rushes into my face. How did he know about that?

“Excuse me?”

“Oh- You’ve got some pretty interesting reading material in that little drawer.” He smirks and nods towards the drawer underneath my bunk.

He read my journal that had written back home.

“You sick bastard- you went through my stuff?! How did you-?” I squat down again and pull open my drawer again to see if the book is still there, and surely enough, it's not.

“Where did you put it? Tell me right now or else you’re gonna have my foot up your ass in about five seconds.”

“You know, Your earlier teen years were very interesting. Didn’t know Amity did more than farm wheat and play banjos.”

“Peter, I’m not playing with you, tell me where you put the book right now,” I growl at him; It is way too early in the morning for this shit.

He chuckles and shakes his head, peeling away from my bunk and walking over to his own. I watch him lift the mattress and search around with his hand for a couple of seconds before pulling out a generic-looking black hardcover notebook.

“I was done reading anyways,” He saunters over to me and holds out the book, but before I can grab it, he pulls it away and turns his back to me. I circle around and try to pry it from his grasp, but he’s having too much fun watching me struggle. Suddenly I am glad that almost everyone from the dorm is already at breakfast.

Finally, I tackle him to the ground and punch him in the shoulder- he’s still laughing. As soon as I see his grip loosen up, I rip the book out of his hands. When I get up off of him, I kick him in the center of his spine before he gets to his feet as well, only causing him to let out a little “ow” through his laughter.

“Feisty... Just like I like them.”

“I hate you. I really do.”

He looks at me with his arms crossed again, wearing a smirk that I don’t like one bit. “No, you don’t.”

I don’t respond, I simply toss my journal back into my drawer and kick it shut.

He turns around and heads back upstairs, “See you around, Sweetheart. Good luck today. You’ll need it.”

As soon as I’m sure he’s gone, I sit on the edge of my bed and cover my face; I feel sick.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

I stand up again and finally start getting dressed- my shoulders are trembling and the heat behind my eyes makes me clench my jaw-I can’t cry right now. I can’t, not this early in the morning.

Chapter 5

I walk up the stairs and see Al waiting at the end of the hallway- I’m shocked he waited that long for me.

“There you are, I was beginning to think you went back to bed,” he chuckles.

I smile back at him despite the tight feeling in my chest and pray that he doesn’t suspect anything is wrong with me. If he were to ask me if I was okay, I would instantly start crying without a doubt.

“Let's go get some breakfast. You look exhausted. I mean- in a good way…”

I can’t help but snort at his anxiousness- usually, I’m the one who’s tongue-tied and nervous, so seeing it on someone else makes me realize how silly I must look in these types of situations. Not that it's a bad thing- I actually think it's really cute.

“I am exhausted- I hardly slept last night.”

“Got a lot on the mind?”

I nod and slip my hands into my pockets, “Yeah… It's actually pretty similar to what you’re going through.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Except my mom wanted me to stay in Amity- I wanted to go into Dauntless. She stopped talking to me the day I told her I wanted to transfer. Well, she stopped talking to me after she finished telling me how disappointed she was in me and how she didn’t think I could make it.” It's strange hearing myself say it out loud. My voice didn’t tremble when I said it, but my vision became hazed with tears. I hope that he can’t see that through the dim blue lighting of the hallway. I have a feeling that it was easier to tell Al about my past because my privacy had already been invaded today- or whenever it was that Peter had stolen my journal.

“That's awful… Did she even say goodbye to you during the Choosing Ceremony? Or- wait, you don’t have to answer that- it's personal. It’s not my place to be asking about that sort of thing… Sorry…”

I look at the ground, almost unphased by his question, “No, it's okay… She did say goodbye to me, but it wasn’t really- her… you know?”

He looks at the ground as well, “Yeah…" he's quiet for a second, "Hey, I’m sorry…”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s fine.” I look up again and try to discreetly wipe the tears out of my eyes, but I’m almost positive that he had already figured out that I started crying a few seconds ago.

“Let's just forget the whole thing, alright?” I smile and lace my fingers between Al’s.

He seems caught off guard by the gesture- looking up at me with wide eyes at first but soon easing into a soft smile. I don’t think either of us knows if this is platonic or romantic, but I know that neither of us cares.

╳╳╳

When we get to the dining hall, we unlink our hands, grab plates and sit next to one another at a table with Al's friends.

“Guys, this is Aria- Aria, this is Tris, Christina, and Will.”

I smile at the three others sitting across from me, “Nice to finally talk to you guys- Sorry I hadn’t introduced myself earlier…”

Christina is the first to talk, “Ah, don’t worry about it. It's not a crime to be a little shy.”

I smile and exhale through my nose as if to chuckle, then start filling my plate.

“I have to say, you’re very impressive.” Will looks at me and nods.

“Oh- thank you! Wait, why am I impressive? I barely made it through stage one.”

“Because-” he takes a bite of his toast- “Amity-born very rarely transfer to Dauntless which has to mean that those who do usually don’t make it. Amity- all about kindness; so much so that they often lack the common sense required to know how to defend themselves.”

My smile becomes a neutral expression- I’m not sure if I should be offended or not.

“...Where did you hear all of this?”

“I’m an Erudite transfer- I used to read a lot about the factions when I was in school- and outside of school. I’m just telling you the facts,” he continues.

I pause, suddenly losing an appetite- but then I realize that he’s not completely wrong. It's the whole reason that I transferred. “Unfortunately, I can’t say that you’re wrong. But me making it this far should prove that I never really belonged there in the first place.” I resume putting a couple slices of toast onto my plate.

“Oh, your progress isn’t the only thing tells me that you weren't meant for Amity. The fact that you didn’t just defend your past faction or tell me that my observations were “rude” is the deal-breaker for me.”

I smirk and begin to eat my breakfast while Christina adds on to the conversation.

“You do look Amity though. You look the complete opposite of Dauntless- it's crazy. Like, seeing such an innocent-looking person dressed in all black and kicking ass during training is definitely strange.”

I put my hand over my mouth and try to contain laughter; I never really took into consideration that I stick out like a sore thumb compared to everyone else.

“I look like a horrible Dauntless impersonator at best.” I chuckle after I swallow my food; everyone else laughs with me.

“Ever thought about getting piercings or something? I mean you already have that tattoo, but it's almost always covered up.” Christina gestures towards my left arm. She’s referring to the large tattoo of a bare tree that takes up most of my inner-forearm.

“Maybe,” I respond, lifting my sleeve to show anyone who had never seen it before. I honestly am kind of surprised that Christina noticed at some point before today. I didn’t think anyone really paid any attention to me.

“What are we talking about over here?” I feel someone grasp my shoulders tightly in their hands and kiss my neck.

I pull my neck down and lean forward to jerk away from whoever just violated me.

When I turn around, I immediately feel like I’m about to be sick.

“What the fuck?”

Peter wraps his arms around me just beneath my arms and rests his chin on my shoulder, “I’m sorry, honey, am I embarrassing you?”

I pry his hands off of me and stand up to face him, ignoring everybody’s confused and concerned looks- especially Al’s.

“No, you’re embarrassing yourself. Don’t touch me again.” I growl at him, my fists clenched at my sides.

He takes a couple steps closer to me and puts his hands on my waist, “I love when you get mad.”

I quickly push his wrists down as soon as I process what's happening and knee him between the legs. I watch him fall to his knees and hold his stomach, getting satisfaction from his grunts of pain.

“Then I bet you loved that.”

The little altercation got some attention; everyone in the next row of tables over is staring at me now. My face is hot again- I can tell that my cheeks are bright red, and I hate it. I hate what just happened. I know exactly what he was doing and why, and I have to resist the urge to kick him in the jaw while he’s still on the ground. I can’t even think about turning around to look at Tris, Christina, Will or Al- I fear the questions that are bound to be thrown my way.

Without a word, I walk out of the dining hall as quickly as I can without looking like I’m running; I need to be alone.

#divergent #divergent series #divergent fanfiction #tris prior #peter hayes #tobias eaton #eric coulter #albert divergent #abnegation #amity #candor #dauntless #erudite #these tags are purely for clout don't mind me #fanfiction

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the-magnus-archives-archiver · 6 years

Text

Growing Dark

Case: 0151904

Name: Mark Bilham Subject: Events culminating in his visit to Hither Green Chapel Date: April 18th, 2015 Recorded by: Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London

Let's get one thing straight right now. I don't think I should be here. What happened was really weird and I'm pretty sure it was illegal, but it can't have been actually supernatural. Like ghosts and stuff. That's not real. No offence, I guess. I'm just here because I told Kathy what happened, and she insisted that I tell your Institute. She's more open to that kind of thing than me. Maybe that's why she chose to live with Natalie.

Sorry, I should start at the beginning. Kathy's my girlfriend. Katherine Harper. We've been dating about a year and a half now. She graduated last year but I'm doing a medical degree, so I'm not leaving London for another couple of years. She managed to get a job as a trainee teacher up in East Ham, so ended up staying as well. I've got to say I'm glad about it. I'm not sure how good I'd be at a long- distance relationship. Anyway, the original plan was to move in together sooner, but stuff didn't match up properly and this was before she got the job, so she had to move back with her parents for a while. Long story short, I had to get a houseshare with some other med students, and she came up later, moving in with Natalie Ennis.

I don't know where Kathy met her. They've always been friends, but I don't think she was at uni with us. She never talked about it if she was. Kathy grew up in London, so maybe they were friends from school or something. She seemed nice, when I met her. Quiet, but nice. She was very serious, though. I don't know if I ever actually heard her laugh. Maybe she just didn't find my jokes funny. Who knows? She was religious, too. I've never had much time for God, myself, and Kathy didn't either. That's why I was kind of surprised the first time I visited her new place and found a framed Bible quote on the wall. Can't remember what it was. Something about Jesus and faith, I don't really know Bible stuff. Kathy said it was Natalie's. She didn't mind her putting it up there in the living room. Kathy's nice like that, you know? Just letting people be themselves.

Me and Natalie... didn't get on. I don't know if you picked up on that. We didn't hate each other or anything like that, we just... didn't have anything in common. She didn't really watch TV or movies, and I didn't know anything about crochet, politics or God, which were pretty much her only interests. Kathy was always trying to get her to come out with us, and she'd just say no, which was fine by me. She always seemed happy enough, though, hooking yarn into whatever she was making at the time, reading some boring book on the political history of the bonnet or something.

That changed last October, when Natalie's mum died. I don't know how it happened, exactly. Heart failure, I think. It was sudden, I know that much, and it hit her hard. I mean, obviously it did, it was her mum, but I think... I think she lost her faith. The Bible quote wasn't on the wall the next time I went over, and when I asked Kathy about it she gave me a look like I shouldn't bring it up. I didn't see much of Natalie after that. She was still around, I'd sometimes see her heading into the kitchen to get some food or tea or something, but apart from that she just stayed in her room.

So far, so normal, right? You lose your mum and it messes you up. That month was sad, but it's not what Kathy wanted us to talk to you about. No, it was what happened afterwards. It was after Natalie found her new church. It was Kathy who told me about it. This must have been about two months after Natalie's mum died. I must have asked how she was doing, if she was feeling any better. Kathy said that, yeah she was. Apparently, she'd found a new congregation and seemed to be getting some comfort there. She hadn't been crying so much at night, Kathy said, and hadn't been quite as prickly when she tried to talk. I noticed that the Bible quote hadn't gone back up, though.

I thought if she was doing better I'd probably see Natalie around more when I stayed with Kathy, but if anything she seemed to almost completely disappear. She never seemed to be there when I went over. I'd see her leave in the evening and come home early in the morning, just as the sky was starting to get light. She'd go straight into her room, ignoring us completely. When I asked her where she'd been one time, she just told me “church”. I asked her a few more questions, but she stared at me in this weird way until I got freaked out and left the room. I joked with Kathy that her flatmate was turning into a vampire, but instead of laughing she just got defensive and said that Natalie couldn't be a vampire. Then she started listing times she'd seen her in the sunlight, before just kind of trailing off. I think we both realised how messed up it was if she could list the number of times she'd seen Natalie in daylight.

Other strange stuff began to happen around the flat as well. The light bulbs kept blowing, to begin with. Well, that's not entirely true. It always seemed to be that when we got in after dark, we'd try to turn on the lights and, well, nothing would happen. At first we just threw the old bulbs out and replaced them, but it kept happening. We checked the fuses, the sockets, Kathy even called the landlord to have someone check out the wiring, but it all seemed fine. The lights kept not working, though. Then I had a thought. The next time it happened, instead of changing the light bulb, I just tightened it. Just like that it turned back on. The first time this happened I was so surprised I nearly fell off the chair I was stood on. The bulbs hadn't been breaking, someone had been unscrewing them. Not much, not enough that we could spot it, just enough for them to not work. I say ‘someone’ had been doing this, but there was only one person it could have been. For some reason, Natalie had been unscrewing all the lightbulbs in the flat, every chance she got.

That was also when Kathy started to look so tired. She kept nodding off when we went out for dinner and would often zone out when we were watching TV. I asked her about it, but she just brushed it off and said she hadn't been sleeping well. It wasn't until she was so tired she almost walked out in front of a car while she was crossing the road that I finally got her to tell me what was going on. She said that Natalie had started staying home at nights, but she was so loud that it stopped her sleeping. Natalie would wander through the living room and sing, in a language Kathy didn't know, and the tune was so discordant that it set her teeth on edge. Natalie would stop singing if she came into the living room, but would then just move to her room and the song would start again.

Kathy even said that when Natalie did leave, always at night, there would still be the sound of movement from her room. Shuffling, thumping noises, and occasionally the sound of something being knocked onto the floor. She'd come close to opening the door so often, but could never bring herself to do so. It seemed to be louder when she was trying to sleep, and once she thought it had moved into the living room, but she didn't go out to check. So no, Kathy wasn't getting much sleep. She started staying over with me a lot, as she said she just couldn’t handle living alone with Natalie.

One night, she arrived at my house almost in tears. I took her up to my room, and sat her on the bed. She stared at me for a few seconds and I was about to ask what was wrong, when she started to speak. She said that Natalie had tried to ‘convert’ her. She had come to Kathy's room earlier that night, knocked on the door, very polite. She'd seemed cheerier than she had since her mum's death, and asked if Kathy wanted to have some dinner and talk. Now, obviously, Kathy had wanted to discuss moving out for months, but she'd never been in a fit state, so she jumped at the chance.

The dining room was dark. Natalie must have unscrewed the lightbulb again because the switch did nothing. Thin slivers of moonlight coming through the curtains gave just enough light to see the table, and two bowls at either end. Natalie sat at one end, and waved for Kathy to sit at the other. Kathy had wanted to run... but didn't know quite how to do so. She said it would have felt... rude. So she sat down, and tried to eat what Natalie had prepared. She thought it might have been spinach, but if so it must have been boiled for far too long and all that remained was a stringy, limp mush. It was stone cold, and she could barely get through two forkfuls before she started to retch; it was so slimy. She pushed it away as gently as she could. She said Natalie just watched, not even glancing at her own bowl.

Finally, Kathy managed to get the nerve to speak, and told her she wanted to move out. There was silence for a long second, and then Natalie had said she did as well. I'll admit I sighed with relief when Kathy said that, but she shook her head and continued. Natalie had begun to speak, longer and in more detail than she had for a long time. She had said that she need to move out, that the she had a new home to being going to, a new family. She said that they were all going, that 300 years was a long time to wait, but she was lucky to have found it so close to the end. She said that it wasn't long until they were collected by Mr. Pitch. She said that Kathy could come too, if she liked. She could be saved.

It was at this point Kathy realised Natalie was talking about her ‘church’. She became... very scared, and stood up, telling Natalie thanks, but she wasn't really one for Christian worship. And Natalie laughed at this. Laughed long and hard, never breaking eye contact. She had said, “No, but you're a natural for Them. You're worshipping as we speak.” It was at that point Kathy ran, and came over to my house. Natalie hadn't tried to stop her.

At this point I was angry as all hell. If Natalie wanted to join some weird cult, and by that point we were both sure that's what it was, then that was her business, but she was scaring Kathy. There was no way I was going to let that stand. I told her that I was going over to her flat and was going to have it out with Natalie. I don't know what I was going to do. I mean, I wasn't going to hit her or anything; I just needed to make it clear that you couldn't just screw with people's lives like this. Kathy told me not to go, but she wasn't in any fit state to stop me. I got in the car and started to drive.

It was an overcast night, and without the moon the streets were dark. The lamps on the road seemed... dull, and even my headlights didn't reach as far as I thought they should. It wasn't far to the small house. I didn't expect any lights to be on, but the silent darkness of the place still sent a shivers down my spine. I had a key to the door, and let myself in. I'd taken a torch from my car, and sure enough the lights weren't turning on. The hallway was silent, but my nerves were on edge and I started to look through each room in turn. Nothing. There was no sign of Natalie at all.

I stood there, in front of her room. It just had a normal, wooden fire door, but my hand still hesitated as I reached to open it. I knew it was empty, by now I was sure she wasn’t home. Still, I was starting to feel that fear that Kathy had described, and I saw that my hand was shaking. I tried to ignore it, grit my teeth, and I opened the door.

The room inside was empty, as I had thought. But it wasn’t just that Natalie was out; it was completely bare. No furniture, no possessions, nothing. The carpet had been torn up, leaving the bare floorboards exposed and the wallpaper had been stripped from the wall. All of it had been stuffed and nailed up against the room’s only window, leaving it completely covered. No light from outside got through, and the torch was the only reason I could see at all. I started to look around for any clue to what Natalie had been doing, or where she had been.

In the corner, half-slipped between the boards, I spotted a piece of paper. It was small and thick, and seemed to have something written on it. Picking it up, I saw it had three words on it: Hither Green Dissenters. The other side had a symbol of some kind, written in thick marker pen: a curved line, with four straight lines coming off one side of it. Like a closed eye. I kept the paper, and your Institute can have it if you want. It’s not like the police were interested in it.

I called Kathy to tell her what I’d found. She was worried about me, but also about Natalie. Whatever this weird church was that she’d joined, I think we both reckoned it might be bad for her. Really bad. Kathy wanted to phone the police, but I told her there just wasn’t enough for it to be a crime. Not yet. I told her I’d keep looking. I might have lied, to be honest, and said I was just going to look around the house more, but... well, I did a search for Hither Green Dissenters and it looked like there was an old abandoned chapel, the Hither Green Dissenters Chapel, in a graveyard near Lewisham. I had decided that I needed to check it out. No idea what I was hoping to find. Enough to call the police in, I guess.

By now it was just past midnight; the drive down wasn’t too difficult. There was still that thickness to the night, a heavy gloom that deadened all light. Like someone had turned the brightness down on London. I found a parking spot not too far away from Hither Green Cemetery, and started to walk towards it. The iron gates stood wide open, so I went in.

The graveyard itself wasn’t as bad as I’d feared. If anything it felt quite peaceful. The darkness seemed right for it, and the stones stood silent and firm. I walked along the path, until my light fell across a small building. The chapel. It was tiny, surrounded by temporary fencing that looked like it had been there long enough to become permanent. It had a single, pointed bell tower, and the windows were covered with old boards that looked like they’d seen the worst of the rain. There was only a single entrance, a pair of double doors set at the front. To my surprise, they stood open. I called out Natalie’s name, shouted and asked if anyone was in there, but there was only silence.

I shouldn’t have gone in. Of course I shouldn’t have gone in. I’m not that stupid. I’ve never been that stupid. But for some reason, standing there in that dark, empty cemetery, I made the decision to look inside.

It was easy to squeeze past the barriers. I still had my torch with me, but it didn’t shine very far in. I entered slowly, casting my light over everything, just in case there were some hooded cultist freaks waiting to jump me, but there were only old, broken pews, discarded bottles and cigarette ends. The normal detritus any abandoned building collects. I was just about to turn around and leave... when my torch died.

Immediately I was plunged into complete darkness. No light was coming in through the door. I couldn’t even see where the door was, everything around me was pitch black. I tried to get the torch to turn back on, turning the bulb and hitting it in a near panic. I tried to take the batteries out and put them back in, but I couldn’t see anything and I ended up fumbling and dropping them. I knelt down and tried to feel where they were, but the ground felt... odd. I hadn’t paid much attention to it when I first came in, but the floor had been chipped, dusty and covered with a layer of junk. But... when I started to feel around for the batteries, it felt smooth and clean and very cold, like marble or something.

I called out for help, but my voice just echoed in the silence. Then the singing started. It seemed like there were dozens of voices, but they didn’t match together right. Some were singing really high and others so low it made my teeth hurt. The words were in some other language, but I remember they kept coming together for the words “Nee-allisand” or “allisunt”, I think. I was freaking out, so I got to my feet and started to walk forward as fast as I was able, my hands stretched out in front of me in case I hit anything. The chapel couldn’t have been more than thirty feet long, and maybe twenty wide, but I walked for well over a minute without hitting anything. I just staggered through the complete darkness, with that awful singing everywhere. At one point I honestly thought I might have died and gone to hell.

Finally, my fingers brushed against something. It was cold, like the floor, but rough. It felt like rusted metal. Thin strips of rusted metal in a criss-cross pattern, with small gaps between them. At least, that’s what it felt like. I didn’t hold on to them for very long, because as my hands rested there, I felt... fingers reach through the holes and try to grab me. I couldn’t see them, but they felt leathery as they brushed against my skin.

I screamed and leapt back, falling to the floor, and as I did so I felt something hard jab me in the hip. My phone. In all that had happened I had forgotten I had it. I reached in and pressed the button and the screen lit up, faint and barely visible, but I started crying like it was the first light I had seen in months. It didn’t light up anything else, but as the singing began to crescendo I desperately went to the torch function and turned it on. And it did turn on in a sudden flash of brilliance and the singing stopped.

In the silence I shone the makeshift torch in front of me and saw a broken pew. The floor was once again covered in junk and I could see the doorway behind me, leading out into the night. I ran, calling Kathy first, and then the police.

They didn’t find anything, of course. They gave me a telling off about trespassing and took down a missing person report about Natalie. Nothing was found, and as far as I know she’s still gone. I didn’t tell Kathy exactly what happened for a few weeks, but when I finally did, she made me come here and talk to you I think that’s everything. Can I go now?

Archivist Notes:

The last section, naturally, is the one that invites my scepticism, but let us disregard that for now and discuss the other aspects. Sasha has confirmed that Natalie Ennis was reported missing by Mr. Bilham on March the 11th 2015. There were no leads regarding her location beyond the piece of paper mentioned in the statement, and no traces of any church or cult was found within the Hither Green Dissenters Chapel or the graveyard surrounding it. When we contacted Mr. Bilham and Ms. Harper to follow up, neither of them had heard from her in the intervening year, nor did they have anything to add to the statement.

The symbol upon the piece of paper does indeed resemble a stylised, closed eye, and there are enough other parallels to Statement 0020312 to make me suspect – and a suspicion is all that it is at present – that the People’s Church of the Divine Host may still be in existence. Also of note, the words “Ny Alesund”. I don’t know for sure if Mr. Bilham remembered them correctly, but Tim pointed out that Ny-Ålesund is actually a small town in Norway. In fact, except for research installations, it is the most northerly human settlement on Earth, located at a latitude of North 78°55′30′′. It is a company town, owned and operated by Outer Bay, but what it has to do with Mr. Bilham’s account is anyone’s guess. Assuming it isn’t all... coincidence. That far north... during the winter... nights can last for a very long time.

Martin found one other thing while combing through police reports for the Hither Green area. About a month after this statement was given, on May 15th 2015, police were called out to once again investigate the chapel. Neighbours had apparently heard screams from inside, just after 11pm, but when officers arrived they found nothing to indicate any sort of incident or foul play. I’d be content enough to ignore this... if it wasn’t for the fact that, according to the official file, May 15th 2015 was day Gertrude Robinson, my predecessor, passed away.

Source: Official Transcript and Podcast (MAG 25 Growing Dark)

#the magnus archives #magnus archives #MAG #MAG25 #MAG 25 #GrowingDark #Growing Dark #Statement #The Dark #the People's Church of the Divine Host

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flusteredkeith · 7 years

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Keith: *orders pineapple on his pizza* Shiro: I should hate you but somehow I just love you more?

i’m cackling omg. also, totally titling this drabble:

a pizza my heart

(also on ao3)

*disclaimer: no hate against pineapples on pizzas. i was just following the prompt 😇😇😇

It’s not a big deal, Shiro thinks to himself for the fiftieth time as he walks down the hallway towards Keith’s room. We’re just studying.

He’s in casual clothes, fresh out of the shower after working out at the gym, completely dressed down. No cologne, no hair products, nothing. Because really, there isn’t anything weird about it. Just two people about to go over some homework together. That’s all.

If by studying, Matt’s words from earlier comes back to him, you mean devising a thinly veiled excuse to spend more time with your favorite little cadet when in actuality you’ll probably just end up trying to get a few steps closer to sucking each other’s face off, then sure. Call it studying.

Panic seizes inside his chest at the memory of Matt’s teasing. The cold, metal walls of the Garrison seem to stretch for an eternity, a never ending carpet leading to the Gates of Shame.

But it is just studying, Shiro frowns to himself. Sure, he had taken a liking to Keith, but everyone has someone they just click with. They’ve been behaving as casual friends — brotherly, even, — becoming sparring partners, discussing piloting tactics with each other, and occasionally teasing Matt — haven’t they? And as Keith is someone who doesn’t necessarily have a lot of friends, it’s completely natural for Shiro to feel like he wants to help, to want to look out for Keith… to want to know what it feels like to run his fingers through that black hai—

No, no — he’d have to work on controlling that particular platonic feeling.

At long last, he comes to a stop in front of Keith’s door. Shiro pauses, hesitant to knock.

Given their busy schedules, Shiro had skipped dinner for this. As Keith had known he’d be busy with classes and occupying himself in the training room, he had offered to order takeout for the both of them as a thank you to Shiro for helping him out, so Shiro figured he didn’t have to eat beforehand.

Yeah, that’s totally not a date, Matt’s voice echoes back in his mind. You might as well put away the books and select the cheesiest romance flick you have and cut the bullshit.

But it isn’t a fancy dinner or anything, Shiro tries to convince himself as he stares at the door knob, an uncomfortable knot twisting inside his stomach. And eating while studying is a completely normal past time that people in normal, platonic friendships often partake in, right?

It’s totally not a date.

Before he can second guess himself any further, Shiro takes a deep breath and knocks.

The scrape of a chair followed by wild scuffling erupts from within. Footsteps scramble loudly to the door. A few seconds later, the door opens a crack and Keith peeks out up at him.

“Oh, hey Shiro,” he says casually, as though no loud raucous has just occurred. “Come in.”

He swings the door open and Shiro walks in. It’s the first time Shiro’s ever been in his room. At a quick glance, he sees that the bed has been hastily made, Keith’s red jacket hangs on a wall hook by the entrance, and the hem of a black shirt sticks out from underneath the door of the closet.

It’s sparse. Aside from schoolwork, a few books, and a laundry basket, there aren’t too many other personal belongings. His heart squeezes at the sight of it. It’s a little sad but it’s Keith – it’s so Keith. And he can appreciate it for that.

“Nice room,” Shiro offers.

“Thanks,” Keith replies, taking a seat in his desk chair. He gestures vaguely towards the bed, indicating that Shiro should sit there, so he does.

“I ordered pizza,” Keith says as he takes his own seat at the desk chair. “Hope that’s okay.”

“Pizza sounds great,” Shiro smiles. “I love pizza.”

Totally not a date.

Keith nods and busies himself with flipping open his book. When the binding is flat on its back however, he pauses and turns his head to look at Shiro.

“Should we start now or wait to eat dinner first?”

“Probably a good idea to wait,” Shiro suggests, rubbing his stomach. “I’m starving.”

He pulls two small water bottles out of his pocket and hands one over to Keith. “Brought some from the dining hall.”

Keith takes it with another muttered thanks. Shiro is about to ask him how his day has been when a knock comes from the door.

“Pizza,” Keith says, jumping out of his seat. He dashes over to the door and unrolls a few bills from his pocket as he goes. Shiro waits patiently as he exchanges payment and goods with the delivery guy and walks back to the desk with a box of pizza in hand.

“Oh, good, they provided plates,” Shiro notes as Keith sets the pizza down on the table. His stomach grumbles as the smell of cheese and baked dough overwhelms him. He hasn’t eaten since noon and he can’t wait to dig in. He flashes Keith a warm smile as Keith hands him a plastic plate.

Excitement builds in his chest. Keith has his hands on both sides of the lid and is slowly tweaking it open. FInally, Keith drops his arms out of the line of his vision and —

Shiro’s face falls.

Across the beautiful and nearly flawless sea of mozzarella and tomato sauce, the worst offense that can possibly be wrought upon a pizza scatters itself all over the otherwise perfect surface.

Pineapples.

Shiro doesn’t understand. He thought he knew Keith. Keith, the ace pilot hotshot, the one who beat his sim score, the same exact Keith who’s pinned him down way more times than any of his other sparring partners has in the training room (and yet still not quite ever enough) — that Keith — likes pineapples on his pizza. Pineapples. Pineapples.

Pineapples.

Where did he go wrong?

“You okay?”

Keith’s voice jolts Shiro back into the cold, harsh reality before him. He wants to give Keith a betrayed look, one that says I thought I knew you, I trusted you, but he can’t bring himself to do it. Not when Keith is looking back at him with such an earnest and genuinely concerned expression.

“Is something wrong?” Keith frowns.

Oh, god. He has no idea. He has no idea. Shiro can’t do this. He isn’t strong enough.

Mustering up the best smile he can offer, Shiro crinkles his eyes and grins up at the young cadet.

“No, nothing’s wrong,” he says, the corner of his lips widening.

When Keith’s frown deepens, Shiro becomes aware of how much teeth he’s probably showing and immediately tries to tone the smile down a little.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he repeats. “Everything’s great. Thanks for ordering pizza. I can’t wait to eat.”

“Oh,” Keith says, looking down at the pineapples. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Shiro nods. To make his words more convincing, he reaches down and grabs two slices to put on his plate. “I’m hungry. Let’s dig in.”

“Okay,” Keith says, looking relieved.

After filling his own plate, he comes around and sits next to Shiro on the bed. A swarm of butterflies erupts in Shiro’s stomach as their shoulders brush and Shiro… he just doesn’t understand.

He really doesn’t understand. Not only are the negative feelings he normally associates with people who choose the sorry way of pineapples completely nonexistent, but by some strange magic, by some bizarre stroke of witchcraft, seeing Keith open his small mouth to chomp down on three of the offending fruit sends a warm, tingly flutter shooting straight through his chest.

It’s incredible. He never thought it possible that he could ever develop romantic feelings for someone who felt this way about their pizza, and yet, here he is.

Matt was right. This boy is a danger to Shiro.

“Are you gonna eat?” Keith asks.

Shiro gulps. The moment of truth.

“You sure you’re okay?” Keith frowns, and he’s giving Shiro that look again. That worried, wide-eyed, I’ll tear to shreds whatever offends you if you just tell me what it is look.

Shiro takes a deep breath. “Yeah, sorry, just… zoned out a bit.”

Then, trying desperately not to breathe at all, Shiro lifts a slice of pizza up to his mouth and takes a bite.

read it on ao3! | (wanna buy me a latte?)

#voltron #sheith #takashi shirogane #vld keith #keith kogane #justine writes #justinewrites #prompt fill #my husband gave me the idea of keith slicing pizza with his blade #but i thought it was too gross lol #blade of marinara #!anonymous #drabble #ask #!answered #idk if you can deliver pizza at this military school but IT'S A FIC #i'M JUST GONNA LET IT HAPPEN

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