#i feel like ladies as a song only works because it's a woman in drag singing it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

librosamarillos · 2 years ago

Text

passed down like folk songs

chapter 19: in waves

Maegor Targaryen x OC

Also on Ao3

chapter index

Tags: hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, angst, mature themes, targaryen incest, violence, Maegor is a red flag himself, characters are ooc probably, MINORS DNI

I'm back and alive! Sorry for the long hiatus babes, hope you enjoy <3

Grief came to Visenya in waves. Some days, she’d wake up from dreaming about fighting with Aegon, screaming and crying at him for abandoning her just when she finally felt some normalcy and happiness, because he ran to Rhaenys in the afterlife. Those days she’d have to keep herself beyond busy, her anger was like wildfire, unpredictable and explosive, everyone knew not to bother her. She couldn’t be alone those days, for she would then be forced to be alone with her thoughts, and that was a scary place to be. Other days, Visenya would wake up with the phantom feeling of Aegon’s arms around her, his breath on her neck and the warm feeling that everything was alright. Those days were the days when it was hardest to get out of bed.

Today was one of those days. She dragged herself out of the warm comfort of her bed, and got ready for the day. Sometimes Visenya didn’t feel like she was all there, like she was in her head about Aegon’s death, part of her wishing to wake up in his arms and realise it was just some nightmare. She had work to do today, and she was definitely not in the mood, but she could not trust Aenys with making such big decisions without her council.

Upon entering her solar, she was relieved to see that Rowan was there, having prepared everything for the meeting, and now, preparing a small breakfast for her to eat. Visenya smiled at the girl, and also the routine they had developed these days. She looked at the plate of food, some bread, cheese, jam, fruit, something light for her to eat. Visenya had lost her appetite quite a bit since Aegon’s death, and Rowan was gently urging her to eat. She appreciated the offer.

“Good morning, I see you have everything prepared.” Visenya smiled, accepting the plate and sitting down to eat. Rowan smiled as well, looking quite relaxed. The meeting was with her father after all. Duncan was a very wise ally to have, especially in the matters that were plaguing her. Perhaps she couldn’t admit it out loud, but Visenya needed her old friend. Duncan was always there to listen, and now, he completely understood her.

“All is ready, your grace. My father will arrive shortly.” Rowan’s voice was soft and calm, as she approached Visenya with a pitcher of water, pouring some in her cup. “Shall I get something else for you from the kitchens?” she asked.

“No, no. This is more than enough, Rowan, thank you.” Visenya smiled, glad for the cooling and refreshing sensation of the water. She studied the young woman in front of her. Rowan seemed to be far more at ease now that Maegor was back. She was never one to doubt Maegor, but of course, as a young woman who had never seen battle, it was only normal for her to worry. It was her childhood friend after all. Well, things between them seemed to be going back to normal. It would be a good thing for everyone involved.

Duncan arrived right on time, if not a bit early, as he always did. It was crazy that it had been two whole decades that she knew the man, and he had never changed. Always punctual, soft spoken and practical. And most importantly, he never lied or sugar coated things for Visenya. An admirable ally indeed. Rowan took her place next to Visenya, preparing all the notes she was asked to, and opening her notepad to write important things down. He must be so proud of her.

Visenya never would admit it, but she really envied the closeness that Rowan had with her father. It was as if the two were perfectly in tune. Aerion Targaryen was never that sweet or patient or interested in her. With time, he did grow to dote on Rhaenys, who acted more like the proper lady he expected her to be. It was a strange dynamic they had, where he didn’t treat her like a beloved daughter, but allowed her to train with the sword and fight, but still didn’t give her the respect he gave to Aegon as his son. She could never approach her father with her troubles or questions, not the way Rowan could with Duncan. Perhaps that was why she seemed to be so fond of Duncan, because he was the devoted father she wished she had, and she admired that.

“Good morning, your grace. I trust all is well?” he asked as he took his seat across from her, like he always did. Visenya set aside her place, wiping her mouth with a napkin, before taking a look at her notes.

“Good morning, Duncan, things are as well as they could be with the rebellion. Let us not waste any time, I have some things I’d like your opinion on.” she said with a small sigh. She had hoped things would be peaceful, but then again, when had her hopes ever come to be? “Harrenhal. I’ve convinced Aenys to send five hundred men to accompany my son, but I’m having some doubts. If this Red Harren managed to take and hold Harrenhal with only a few hundred men, perhaps we should send more.” her voice held a bit of doubt, something she never allowed anyone else to see or hear.

“You can call for Lord Tully to raise his banners, to send five hundred more men to join Prince Maegor. With Balerion, I highly doubt they’ll be needed at all, but we’re better safe than sorry. It’ll be a show of strength for the crown, to show anyone thinking to rebel that all great houses follow the King’s orders loyally and faithfully.” Duncan spoke. He had clearly given the topic much thought, thinking about all possible opportunities. Visenya gave a small smile.

“Yes, Balerion is a great advantage to have, but you know Maegor better than that. He wishes to fight the rebels himself, to show them that they have more than our dragons to fear.” she almost laughed, as if Maegor was still her little boy playing with the wooden swords she had made for him. It didn’t escape her that Rowan tensed up after hearing this. Of course she’d worry over him, she always did. “I have been in correspondence with Lord Tully, he will provide us with his soldiers, all we need is the King’s order…” she sighed.

“Do you doubt the King will give the order?” Duncan asked, but knew the answer. Duncan shared her worries about Aenys, she didn’t feel the need to hide or hold back her words.

“You know how he can be. His squeamishness, I’ll never understand, hells, I find myself wondering what he even inherited from Aegon. The more he hesitates, the worse these rebels will be. They can sense the weakness from miles away.” she said, her brows furrowing more with each word, before she pinched the bridge of her nose. “But it doesn't matter. If I cannot convince him, Maegor will. He’ll listen to his hand, I hope.”

Duncan nodded.

“Have you given any thought as to who will be granted Harrenhal afterward? House Qoherys has been wiped clean as of last week.” he explained. In truth, Visenya hadn’t given it much thought yet, since technically, it was the job of the King to think over such matters, but she knew better than to trust Aenys with this. He’d just do what appeased the majority of his court and council.

“I haven’t given it much thought, in truth. I’ve been thinking of House Towers, but I’m not sure. Did you have someone in mind? Ah- Which Houses are in that area again?” she turned her head to Rowan.

“There’s lots of smaller Houses, your grace. The most prominent ones are House Towers, Butterwell, Harroway and Darry.” Rowan explained, and Visenya nodded.

“Well then, we’ll see which of these lords proves himself worthy of the honour. We’ll pick the one who’s most useful to us.” Visenya concluded.

The meeting went over a few more technicalities, details and doubts, but the conclusion had been reached. Maegor would march to the Riverlands with five hundred men and meet up with the other five hundred Tully men, along with Balerion. Visenya was certain her son would prevail once more. She had no doubt about that. He would show the world the true blood of the dragon, what it truly means to be a King- unlike her pathetic excuse of a nephew. She’d still have to convince him to send word to lord Tully, hoping that he wouldn’t deny it for some imaginary fear.

She looked over Rowan’s neat notes, the calendar she had asked her to make for the day. She’d meet up with her nephew before lunch, and convince him this was the best course of action. She could also ask Maegor to join her in this, but it could appear that they were ganging up on him, which couldn’t end well, should Aenys finally decide to grow a spine.

Visenya turned her attention to Rowan, who was tidying up all the used dishes and cups to send to the kitchens, while also handing her a fresh goblet of water. Dutiful as always. They were now alone again in the room, as Duncan took his leave.

“He was very fond of that pin, you know?” Visenya said, taking a sip of water. Rowan seemed completely caught off guard and if Visenya were any crueller, she would have laughed.

“I- your grace- I only wished to-”

“Breathe, my girl. I’m not condemning you!” she couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “Aenys noticed it and thought Ceryse was the one who made it. Maegor told him that I was the one who made it instead.” she laughed at the absurdity of the idea, that she’d ever participate in anything of the faith, but also in the fact that Aenys believed it. Rowan, however, looked incredibly guilty. Perhaps it was the reminder of Ceryse’s name. Visenya smiled and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t dwell on any guilt. She doesn’t care for him, and neither does he care about her.” she explained what she knew was obvious to everyone.

“Still… it was…” Rowan trailed, lightly picking at her hands nervously.

“It was sweet.” Visenya concluded, patting her shoulder comfortingly.

Things would’ve been a whole lot easier if the two didn’t hold such strong feelings for each other, but Visenya had hopes that with Lord Tybolt’s interest, at the very least Rowan could move on. It would be easier on her heart. If her and Maegor’s plans were to succeed, if he indeed ascended the throne and Aenys gave up the crown, she didn’t know how far Maegor would go to keep her close. He could barely keep it together as a Prince, she didn’t wish to know how far he’d go as KIng. If he knew she had moved on and had a family of her own, he could also move on. All he needed was an heir with Ceryse and he could surround himself with all the whores in King’s Landing for all Visenya cared. An heir was necessary for their plans to work. An heir, a spare and it would be enough for Maegor’s claim to be secured.

To say that Maegor was gloating would be an understatement. He had managed to convince his brother of his mother’s plans for Harrenhal, and now he stood in front of her, basking in her praise. Visenya was difficult to please and he was fully enjoying every second of his mother’s affection.

“It wasn’t that hard to get him to write to Lord Tully. Even though he claims that brute force is not the way.” Maegor explained as he took a sip of wine. He’d be leaving in the morning to fly to Lord Tully, who had already been preparing his men weeks ago, from Visenya’s request. He was eager for battle and blood.

“Brute force is the only way to deal with rebels. It’s the only way these fools will learn. You’ll need to know when it’s wise to use diplomacy and when to rain fire on them. A King must know these things.” Visenya stated, as if it were the clearest thing in the world. They were alone in the solar, she didn’t feel the need to hide her truth. Maegor almost gave a faint smirk, enjoying every second of his gloating.

“A King…” Maegor trailed, as if enjoying the taste of the words in his mouth. King. What he had wanted to be since he was a boy. He had a lot to prove to make himself the obvious choice. He’d be lying if he didn’t smirk when he heard the whispers in court or in the city, saying that he was most fit for the role.

“Yes, Maegor. Everyone sees it, everyone knows. Even Aenys. He himself admitted it when he gave you Blackfyre and when he made you his hand. Every mess, he relies on you to fix because he cannot. You already have a lot of support, Harrenhal could be a turning point. You’ll be King in all but name, Aenys will have no choice but to admit it. By then giving up the crown will be appealing to him, when he fully realises he cannot do this. Now all you need to secure your claim is an heir.” his mother explained.

“I know, I’m trying.” Maegor frowned. She was right, as always, but he highly doubted he was the one at fault for his lack of heir. He had been visiting Ceryse’s room nightly, like a chore they both hated, for the sake of a child, with nothing to show for it. Perhaps it was all Ceryse’s fault. She was older than him, not by too much, but still older. She still had her moonblood, which meant she should’ve gotten pregnant by now. Gods, this was fucking frustrating. He was growing resentful, even though he knew it was unfair and he knew Ceryse and Rowan were right, but he couldn’t let go of this blame he wanted to throw her way.

“I know you are. All in due time. Now your focus should be Harrenhal. The rest will fall in line soon, I know it.” she said, patting his cheek, like she always did when he was a boy and she’d give him praise. He sighed and nodded.

He left his mother’s solar as the sun was nearing its set. He made his way for a “spontaneous” walk in the gardens, even though it was entirely purposeful, to catch a glimpse of his beloved. These times, she’d either be walking around with her father or with Ceryse and Lana, and sometimes, if he was truly lucky, she’d be alone, strolling the flowers and getting lost in thought. His violet eyes were scanning his surroundings, and he almost smirked as people got out of his way in fear.

He caught a glimpse of her auburn curls near a bench. He stood almost behind a pillar, just to admire her beauty as she looked on to the city in thought. He wanted to embrace her and reassure her of any worries she might've had, but he knew he couldn’t do such a thing.

His eyes went from soft and loving, to angry and suspicious when he saw that damn Lannister approaching her. Rowan seemed surprised to see him, knowing he were to begin his journey to the Riverlands in the morning. Maegor was going to make sure to give him the most taxing and difficult tasks. Maegor frowned as he heard the two exchange pleasantries, and even more so at how close Tybolt stood to Rowan.

“I’ll be leaving with the rest of the knights in the morning. You know, I’ll be more than eager to return to you, my lady.” Tybolt’s stupid voice was soft and smooth like silk, and Maegor heard her pause. Her innocent green eyes were wide in surprise and Maegor wanted to strangle him right there and then.

“I- Lord Tybolt- I do not know what to say…” she spoke, her voice startled and unsure. He heard her speak like that before, when his aunt Rhaenys was still alive, she had asked Rowan to accompany her in the city. Rowan’s voice was unsure and startled then, because he knew she didn’t want to do it, but was in a position where she couldn’t say no.

“Then do not say a thing, my lady. You do not have to. I am merely expressing my appreciation for your presence. I can only wish to be in your presence more when I return to you from battle.” Tybolt smiled an easy smile, placing a kiss on Rowan’s hand. It made Maegor’s blood boil. He wanted to rip off his arms for daring to stand so close to her- let alone press a kiss on her hand.

“I’m very flattered, my lord.” Rowan replied in a soft, quiet voice. She seemed flustered at the attention. She then wished him well in the upcoming battle and turned to leave, before she accidentally dropped the notepad she was carrying. Tybolt was quick to help her gather the fallen objects.

“Oh! My lady, let me help you!”

“Please, it’s really nothing, I-” Rowan quickly gathered most of her things, but Tybolt still knelt to help. She seemed panicked, and it made Maegor raise a brow. He was ready to step out of the shadows and scare him off, but Tybolt’s voice stopped him.

“My, my…what’s this?” Tybolt held up something that Maegor couldn’t quite make out. He squinted a bit, before he felt his heart pound in his chest. It was a pin. A pin just like the one Rowan had made for him before he left for the Vale. “I didn’t know you had your heart set on someone, a daring knight that has beaten me in the race for your affections? Who has defeated me, if I may ask?” Tybolt’s eyes were now staring right into Rowan’s, and she seemed like she was about to faint.

“I-... I made it for you, my lord…I was just unsure if it was proper to give it to you.” Rowan’s voice was shaky, in a way that someone who didn’t know her would assume she was being shy. But Maegor knew her. She was lying. She was always such a bad liar, her eyes always betraying her true emotions, but it seemed like Tybolt didn’t see right through her. No, the bastard was beaming.

“Lady Rowan, how happy you have made me! I shall cherish this forever, and I swear it that I shall return to you from this battle safe and sound, for your kind prayers shall keep me safe.” Tybolt grinned his stupid grin as he pressed another kiss on Rowan’s hand, one that lasted far too long for Maegor’s liking.

The scene was almost picturesque, the charming knight accepting the gift of protection from the beautiful lady, all in front of this sunset in the palace gardens. It made Maegor want to scream and rage, especially since he knew that the pin was meant for him and him alone. Tybolt at some point finally left the gardens, gloating and grinning, while Rowan stood there frozen. She eventually sighed, her face betraying complete defeat, when she finally began to make her way back to her room. As she walked toward Maegor, their eyes met.

His piercing gaze immediately softened as he looked at her, her eyes wide as she realised that he witnessed the whole interaction. Her eyes were now apologetic, as if she had anything to apologise for. Still, Maegor couldn’t help but feel frustrated with her. He knew it was completely misplaced, but he wanted so badly to argue with her about why she ever even considered to grace that blond fool with her presence, let alone hand him such an intimate and personal gift. One that he knew was meant for him. The love he had for her was turning animalistic and primal, as he wanted to kill that man off for even daring to look at her.

Maegor was still frowning as he gestured with his eyes to his mother’s solar, silently telling her to meet him there. Rowan followed suit, under the guise of her obligations to the dowager Queen. The room was empty, silent and tense. Rowan placed the notepad on its usual spot on the table, while her green eyes looked into his violet ones apologetically.

“Why?” Maegor was the first to break the silence. His voice was heavy, almost angry. “Why did you give it to him? Why did you tell him it was for him?” he asked, trying his hardest to not make it sound like it was an accusation, but failing, as Rowan read him like an open book. She furrowed her brows at this.

“I didn’t mean to- I didn’t know what to say! I couldn’t tell him the truth, and I couldn’t think of anyone else to say the name of- I felt like it would just make things more complicated. I couldn’t think of anything else.” Rowan explained, clearly pained by what just happened.

“So now this fool is walking around, thinking you just promised him your hand?” Maegor frowned even more if that were even possible. Rowan stood silent for a moment, looking down at the floor with shame. He hated this. He only wanted to scoop her in his arms and tell her he’d get rid of him, but he knew it wasn’t something he could do.

“I… I suppose…” she trailed. “I didn’t think he’d take it so eagerly, nor that he’d imply courtship-”

“He plans to court you?” his eyes widened at how calm she seemed to be. “And you’re alright with this?” he almost laughed, feeling the anger he tried to push away return in full force. Rowan seemed puzzled for a moment.

“I don’t know if he plans to- are you angry with me?” she asked, abandoning the notepad she had been fumbling with this whole time.

“I know it’s not your fault, but I cannot help but feel frustrated. If you had never entertained his foolish attempts, he’d be off annoying someone else. But now he’s gloating to everyone willing to listen, I am sure.” Maegor spat out, his hands finding the corner of the table to fumble with.

“Maegor, I never wanted him to find the pin! I felt awkward with how forward he was being, I didn’t mean to drop it, let alone for him to see it! I meant to give it to you! You know this!” she stepped closer to him, but still too far for Maegor’s liking. “Believe me, I am frustrated with myself too for not being more careful, for not coming up with a better lie- but I cannot sit here and pretend I did anything inappropriate.” she protested.

“You didn’t. Technically you didn’t. But you’re okay with that man courting you? You’d entertain the idea of being his wife? Of going off to Casterly Rock forever, away from me?” he argued back, his voice heavy but his eyes pleading.

“I don’t know!” she raised her voice, frustration clear in it. “I don’t know, Maegor! You know what I’ve always wished for, you know what I’ve always yearned for, but you also know that can never come to be. I can’t- I can’t stay here forever. I cannot bear to stand by and watch you have a family- I cannot bear it. I didn’t mean for him to find it, but I cannot deny that he’d make a good match one day. I- everything just happened way too fast, I couldn’t think.” her voice was shaking.

Maegor was so torn. He wanted to run to her, to hold her and kiss her and comfort her and take her away from this place and everyone that held them apart. But another part of him seethed in anger at hearing her admit that she was considering Tybolt as a worthy match. Just the thought made him want to take blackfyre and leave the Lannister boy in pieces, along with his pathetic house.

“I shall take my leave then. I have to prepare for battle tomorrow, I’d hate to interrupt your new dreams of becoming Lady Lannister.” he said through gritted teeth.

He heard Rowan protest as he left the solar, but he didn’t return, he couldn’t. He knew his anger was violent and ruthless, he wanted to shield her from it. He already regretted what he said, he knew if he turned back he might say something even worse. Rowan, his sweet girl, she didn’t deserve to be around him when he was like this. He was practically blowing steam through his nose as he stomped through the halls. He made his way to his wife’s room, and turned all this frustration into something that could at least bring him closer to his goals.

He didn’t look for her the next day. He couldn’t bear to look at her, feeling so ashamed at his own anger, he couldn’t face her. He’d crumble when he looked into her eyes, and he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Especially not when he had a battle to focus on. He still wore the previous pin she had made for him under his armour, refusing to let anyone see it this time.

This battle was far too important for him to not be focused. This battle could bring him even closer to the throne and crown. This battle could be life changing. He gripped the reigns of Balerion as he took off, his anger turning into a dangerous and calm focus. It was supposedly a dangerous man they were heading to fight, it would sure be a shame if Tybolt Lannister never returned. He smirked dangerously as he landed Balerion near the entrance of House Tully’s seat, before getting down to meet with the Lord of the house.

taglist:@heartstalked@stupidocupido@discowizard88@slytherisstuff

#maegor targaryen #maegor targaryen x oc #maegor the cruel #visenya targaryen #i live yall

23 notes · View notes

thesmollestnerd · 2 years ago

Text

Star Wars Characters + their signature Burlesque songs

This is going to be mostly Clone Wars + Bad Batch era characters in this specific post.

Links are available by clicking the song title.

Clone Wars

Obi-Wan Kenobi | “Feeling Good” Muse

The original version of “Feeling Good” is one of the go-to songs for burlesque, it in a lot of ways, it mimics classic big-band cabaret showgirl tunes. Obi-wan has a lot of respect for tradition and those who came before him but he’s also his own jedi and deviates where he wants to. This cover by muse has that element of showy, flirty-ness and the flaunt of a song that can hold its own. The tradition of the brass overlaid with more pop-rock elements mean Obi-Wan can showgirl parade and peel to his heart’s content.

Anakin Skywalker | “I See Red” Everyone Loves an Outlaw

The lyrics are about cheating but the overall theme of this song is about being betrayed by loved ones. This could work for the fix-it timeline where he feels betrayed by someone he thought was a friend (Palpatine) or canon where he’s feeling betrayed by the order. It’s an angry, broody strong with a lot of strong beats and would mimic Anakin’s aggressive fighting, and sparks of wrath. We’re talking a LOT of very assertive, physical dance here.

Padme Amidala | “My Strongest Suit” Aida

This song is about fashion being a woman’s strongest asset, literally its in the musical. I can see Padme doing this as a tongue-and-cheek number because she gets teased for her prolific wardrobe as a Queen and Senator. Everyone knows she’s a powerhouse and this ballad, even tongue-and-cheek- is a BALLAD. The audience is going to worship at the altar of this high-energy strip-tease. And the costumes? Oh, they are encrusted in rhinestones.

Mace Windu | “Bad News” Melody Gardot

This is very in-line with classic lounge-style burlesque. Mace likes it because its slow and he has four + a half-minutes of the audience’s time and he uses them rolling around the stage floor with a thickass purple boa, eye fucking people and they thank him for the gift of that.

Cody | “You Make My Dreams” Hall & Oates

This act was created for one person, and one person only, others get to see it by the grace of the force. Obi-Wan has never missed a performance of it, which is good because Cody spends a majority of his time flirting with the man while casually whipping around tribute fans with impressively playful precision. It’s kinda like watching a bird do a courtship dance for his mate but with body shimmer.

Rex | “Lost Without” Shane Guerrette

Rex heard this song in a cantina in the middle of nowhere and that was the first time anyone knew the man had rhythm. The raspy, vintage-feel, simple chords, and easy percussion with a vocals that have a brass-like quality mean he’s going to toe the line of flirty classic tease, and sultry slow-burn. He’ll be in the audience, flirting and soaking up their attention before he saunters back to the stage to do floorwork that is hotter than sex..

Fives | "Betty (Get Money)” Yung Gravy

If you don’t expect this from that absolute sentient shit-post of a vod, I’ve got news for you: He does it dressed like a Chippendale’s Dancer and always loses his merkin.

Bly | “Mr. Sandman” SYML

This is a song about longing and we know how Bly feels about his Jedi. This is a soft cover, beautiful, elegant. It’s not a tease, its a tribute. I can see some beautiful fanwork happening, a lot of peel-cover-reveal. The choreo is slow but the audience is enthralled.

Fox | “Smooth” Santana, Rob Thomas

Fox chose this song because it was playing at 79s and he liked how easy it was to dance to. He likes to slide back and forth between a raunchy bump n’ grind with some hits and just holding the stage and staring down the audience while dragging a piece of clothing. At least once during the bridge when he’s in the audience, he steals someone’s drink and downs it.

Wolffe | “Teeth” Lady Gaga

The Tempo of this song is very driving, very authoritative but the lyrics are assertive yet dirty which Wolffe would appreciate. He’d bump n’ grind the hell out of this and probably howl for effect.

The Bad Batch

Crosshair | “Death Don’t Have no Mercy” (Stripped Version) Esterly, Eric McSpadden

This is a slow-burn about the inevitability of death. It’s very Crosshair. The twangy-bluesy guitar with the rolling drums and choral backing vocals make this an unexpected choice for those more familiar with classic burlesque but Crosshair plays everything close to the chest but with the presence to really make this song captivate. He’ll be walking the stage, staring down the audience, and peeling off clothing, slooooowly to keep the tease alive.

Echo | “Say My Name” KNGDAVD

No one was expecting this, even even Echo. The first time he performed, he wasn’t even sure he wanted to perform. This song kicked on, the dirty verb of the guitar, the kick of the beat, the croon of the singer summoned the Domino Twin in him and he went for it. There was bump n’ grind, there was parade and peel, there were so many credits on the floor that this boy slipped and went into the sexiest split of any of the rings.

(Echo now has rhinestoned plastoid plates that snap on to his legs, not head canon, canon, I will not be accepting feedback.)

Hunter | “Desperado” (Slowed TikTok vers) Rhianna, RH Music

The man is a tracker. The audience is his prey. This version is a sultry slowest-of-the-slow burns. It’s all about drawing the tease out, the audience on the edge of their seats, not to see the skin (but also yes) but to just watch this man who has complete control over every single muscle through fluid physicality take off one garment at a time. It’s about the connection he can maintain with the audience, the presence he takes up just by breathing (which is part of his choreo).

Tech | “People Are Strange” Tribe Society

Some performers tend not to engage with their audience because they are so into what they’re doing, enjoying themselves. Others prefer to be observed, to be art. That’s Tech. This song is sultry and smokey and slow, anyone else would be slithering across the stage and stripping. Tech is using this song to showcase the flexibility of the human body, there are alot of acrobatic poses with very slow transitions. Since Tech is an inventive mind, he also likely likes to innovate new and interesting ways to remove clothing (such as an inverted hand-stand on a chair while removing a thigh-high from one leg with his toes of the other).

Wrecker | “I Believe in a thing Called Love” The Darkness

Classic-rock with a super playful vibe. I could totally see Wrecker choosing a hair-metal inspired track. It’s high energy, perfect for a guy with little impulse control and a whole lot of love to give. He’s gonna rip his shirt off within the first 30 seconds of the song, swing it around and then chuck it into the audience and they are going to eat.it.up. He’s going to have a lot of fun on stage, that’s what its all about for him, he’ll do bump and grind, he’ll do (his version of) classic flirty, he’s gonna tease but in a delightful way and during the clapping-bridge he’s gonna gonna reveal assels (they’re tassels for your butt).

Bonus:

Yoda | “Pour some sugar on me” Def Leopard

He doesn’t take any clothing off and still ends up buried in credits.

#star wars #clone wars #the bad batch #tbb #sw tbb #head canon #fanon #sw hc #source: I'm a burlesque performer

8 notes · View notes

vanessasancheznavarro · 1 year ago

Text

She has a face straight out of a magazine God only knows, but you'll never leave her...

whoa! VANESSA SANCHEZ-NAVARRO just stole my cab! not cool, but maybe they needed it more. they have lived in the city for ONE MONTH, working as A/AN CON-ARTIST/CLUB OWNER. that can’t be easy, especially at only 39. some people say they can be a little bit MANIPULATIVE and SARCASTIC, but i know them to be CLEVER and ENTERTAINING. whatever. i guess i’ll catch the next cab. hope they like the ride back to QUEENS!

►GENERAL INFORMATION

FULL NAME: Vanessa Sanchez-Navarro NICKNAME(S): Nessa, V, Navarro LABEL: The Miscreant AGE: 39 DATE OF BIRTH: May 25, 1984 ZODIAC: Gemini Sun, Aquarius Rising, Capricorn Moon GENDER & PRONOUNS: Female; She/Her HERITAGE: Taíno, Puerto Rican, Irish, English SPOKEN LANGUAGE(S): English OCCUPATION: Con Artist / Club Owner ( Seventh Heaven / Club Rouge ) SEXUALITY & ROMANCE: Bisexual; Biromantic

► APPEARANCE

FACE CLAIM: Aubrey Plaza HEIGHT: 5'6" WEIGHT: 119 lbs. DOMINANT HAND: Right HAIR COLOR: Brunette EYE COLOR: Brown SCARS: None notable. TATTOOS: Black dainty outline of an Ace on her right inner wrist

►PERSONALITY

POSITIVE TRAITS: Clever, Entertaining, Charming, Accepting, Driven, Comedic. NEGATIVE TRAITS: Sarcastic, Manipulative, Headstrong, Secretive, Reckless. LIKES: Drag shows, brunch, cocktails with more alcohol than mix, pop music, spontaneous weekend trips, card games, the feeling of silk, popping champagne. DISLIKES: When people ask questions with obvious answers, the law, loud chewers, when forks scrape against plates, when you're looking forward to eating something specific but the establishment is sold out for the day.

►MENTALITY

PHOBIAS: None. DISORDERS: Not diagnosed. ALLERGIES: N/A

►BACKGROUND

HOMETOWN: Las Vegas, NV CURRENT RESIDENCE: Queens, NYC, NY EDUCATION LEVEL: High School Drop-out FAMILIAL CONNECTIONS: - FAMILY UNKNOWN

►FAVORITES

FOOD: In-and-Out Burger DRINK: Carmel Macchiato, extra shot and upside down MOVIE: The Hangover, Killer Klowns from Outerspace TV SHOW: *Doesn't really watch TV* BAND/ARTIST: The1975, Gorillaz, Ween, Lady GaGa SONG: Robbers - The1975

► EXTRA INFORMATION

JUNG TYPE: INTJ ENNEAGRAM: The Confidant (6w7) TEMPERAMENT: Stoic MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Evil SIN: Glutton VIRTUE: Acceptance ELEMENT: Air CHARACTER PLAYLIST

Be a riot, 'cause I know you

► BIOGRAPHY

TW; Neglect, homelessness, con-artistry

Vanessa was found in a dumpster. Swaddled in a towel and screaming. It was an elderly homeless woman who took her in, only to pass away when Nessa turned 9. To a degree, she never understood why the woman would take her in when there was nothing to her name. Though, she did manage to survive for 9 years, and it was because of that very woman that Nessa understood how to run the streets to her advantage. It wasn't until Nessa was 16 that she was caught by a magician for pickpocketing his wallet. It was the only time she's ever been caught in her 7 years of trickery. Through this man, she made a deal to be his magician's assistant in order to be partners and run a con, all to be able to learn some better slight of hand. It was a very great act, entertaining people only to then take from them. This way of life not only excited Nessa, but it also was keeping her lights on in her shoebox of a shitty apartment. When she turned 18, she took all the money they made together and seemed to disappear to the richer area of Vegas. Her eyes were saucers, the greed mixed with her need for survival having her take all she learned and turn it on the rich and wealthy bachelors who turned up in Vegas. Her favorite where the ones on a business trip. Their black cards the reason she has the amount of Chanel she does and her Maserati. It was an easy con, to portray herself as something she wasn't in order to get close, bleed them dry and then go off to the next. The last con, she married a billionaire, waited for him to go on a business trip, took the money and bolted. This time, instead of just a new area of Vegas, she took off to New York City. Now, she's living her best life. She won a little run-down club in Brooklyn and flipped it into Seventh Heaven. Rumor is that she has a secret area of the club that turns into Club Rouge - where anyone's wildest dream could come true. Even hers.

► PERSONALITY (DEEP DIVE)

Vanessa is always the life of the party. She's jokingly awkward, and it's all a part of her charm. She's definitely guarded, and hasn't ever been caught by the police because she's so good at coming up with stories on-the-spot and throwing off suspicion. Nessa is loyal, but only if she feels there is something in it for her in the relationship. She's accepting of anyone and everyone and really pushes for people to be their authentic selves, mostly because she hides pieces of herself due to her past and has no choice. She's the type to drag you out if you're having a bad day and getting up on tables to dance. She has her hand on the pulse of the city and usually has an in for all the newest and hottest areas due to the fact she's a nightclub owner. She loves weed, card games, and conspiracy theories (grab your foil hat). She appreciates humor and intelligence in others, and shows her sarcasm when she thinks someone is stupid lol. Uh, she is brilliant and it's interesting because she dropped out of high school - mostly cause it bored her. She somewhat regrets it now and wishes she got a degree. She doesn't do serious relationships really - mostly because of her conartistry. It sucks though because she is charming and she draws people to her but they tend to not leave and declare themselves her friends; She's very black cat energy. Overall, she's a fun time. She's air-coded with how she switches up.

#boroughs.intro #tw neglect #tw homelessness #tw conartistry

0 notes

yagurl-snow · 3 years ago

Text

Beyond the stars (Royal AU)

Summary: She’s a queen who only loved and hoped to be loved.

Pairings: King!Steve x Queen!reader x King!Bucky

Warnings: MINORS DNI 18+, historical inaccuracies, angst, mentions of death, character death, mentions of blood, treason, angst, violence, mentions of manipulation

Word count: 4,321~

A/n: Inspired by the song the one that got away. I made a playlist, y’all might want to listen to it while reading. I hope you like it. This is not beta’d, all mistakes are my own.

The hall towards your chamber was empty, too empty, and too quiet for a Queen who’s wed to two Kings. You held your head high with no fear, only dropping that façade for a moment, letting your shoulders drop; your head hung low as the anxiety came out in the process. You stopped, feeling your whole body tremble.

You were sure you’d fall down the floor but held your ground, leaning against the wall to keep your body upright. A sigh came out of your mouth, placing a hand against your head almost as if you caught a headache.

You knew what awaited at the end of the hall. Your ladies-in-waiting are nowhere to be seen.

You scanned the surroundings. “There are no guards,” it came out a whisper. You were prepared for this, aware of the consequences. You swore you were, and yet here you are, clutching your dress for dear life, swallowing hard to ease your growing fear.

There’s no doubt about it. You were caught. The crime is exposed, and you were afraid, but you can’t let them see through that, can you? No. You can’t afford to let them see the fear on your face, yet you still felt it crawling onto your skin.

You stared at your trembling hand, admitting to yourself what you’re afraid of. Afraid to see the betrayal written across their eyes, afraid to die.

Gritting your teeth, you forced yourself to stop trembling, letting out a few more breaths and allowing to void your face of any emotion.

Putting aside the fear, you held your head up high again. This time, you strode like you have nothing to lose, nothing to fear. Like you still have the power to wield against all those who dared to oppose you.

Knowing what’s at the end of the hall, you walked with no care. You’re still the queen, and they shall at least have the respect not to drag you to the dungeon and wait until you calmly stood before them. As your palm touched the walls and the memories came flooding back.

The first time you met them was during that victory feast, a war they won. A war that the council didn’t expect the Kings to come back from, and yet they hid that surprise by preparing a week-long feast and a coronation for the two Princes, now Kings.

With your father being a powerful Duke who’s loyal to the crown, you were present. The Duke showed no fear, he flaunted to everyone that he’s fully supporting the newly crowned Royals.

You weren’t sure how the rumors spread, but it’s already out there, the stories of Steve and Bucky betrothed to you. It’s normal for people to assume that because your father worked closely with the royals and you are the only daughter he has.

You weren’t paying attention to the rumors even if you were being asked, swiftly moving the conversation into another one despite loving the idea of the rumor. If only it became true.

It couldn’t be helped but reach their ears as it slipped your father’s tongue asking if you were hiding the relationship, and making it known to the two Kings that he has no problem with it. “There’s no need to keep it hidden, my Kings,”

The Kings, Steve and Bucky, took that opportunity to make it real, to get to know the woman famous for being demure, almost perfect. In their eyes you’re perfect. They needed that—need you to rise in ranks—power.

Both men knew you had felt something for them. Love, perhaps, and they couldn’t help but smile as you desperately try to cover it up. The subtle glances, the small smiles you sent their way, the way your eyes widen every time one of them caught you staring, or how you linger a little longer around your father to chime in the conversation with them. “She’s good at masking it, pretending like it’s no more than a small interaction,”

“Yet, it meant a lot to her,”

“You can’t miss that proud look or the way her lips curl up, Steve.” Bucky shrugged.

Steve took a swig from his goblet, humming in agreement. They had been watching you for a while now since the rumors reached their ears, and they knew they couldn’t reciprocate your love for them, but they could use that for their benefit. It isn’t good, but you’re strong enough to hold your own—to be their queen.

The look they shared and the smirk Bucky sent towards Steve had him groaning, watching as the other King walked towards you with purpose. Of course, Bucky is impatient. Steve took another sip from his goblet before placing it down as eyeing you with Bucky now standing right beside you. You’re perfect for the both of them.

“It’s pleasing to meet the famous young duchess,” It was Bucky who you first met. His icy blue eyes felt like they could see right through you.

“Your majesty,” you greeted, lowering your head before meeting his eyes which had Bucky smiling wide. He knew you’d have no fear to meet his eyes. Strong enough for us, confident to take on the responsibility. He thought. He didn’t know that that trait of yours would also bring you down.

Bucky waved his hand and showed you that charming smile of his. No, you weren’t obsessed but smitten, and you’re not going to lie that you did like him—them.

You can probably call it to love if you consider the fact that you took the time to study anything about war to join their conversation. You didn’t mind the way your father looked at you in confusion or how amused Steve and Bucky were about you. You’re responsible for your own actions, you shall take the consequences for yourself not letting others involved.

You were ready to do just about anything for them, even if you couldn’t have them. You’re satisfied with small interactions. After all, they’re Kings, and even if your title allows you to be one of the suitable women worthy of the title queen, you weren’t sure if they’d bat an eye to look at you. Can’t you bring your hope up?

“May I have this dance?”

“Of course, my King,” Bucky wasted no time to grab your waist and lead you to dance. His hands gently placed on your back guide you to move. You blinked trying to wake yourself up, thinking this isn’t real.

As if he heard you, Bucky began saying, “this is real, Lady (Y/N),” you were sure that the moment you heard your name fell off his lips had you swooned. He knows your name. Does King Steve know my name too? The small gasp that escaped your lips had his curl up in a smirk.

The way Bucky looked at you felt intimate like he’s not interested in anything but you. Behind the soft and gentle expressions he’s showing you was a ruthless man everyone feared. The thought of them having no power and control over the council or the castle seems like a lie.

When the music changed, you faced the other king with the golden hair. You were sure his careful smile towards you was out of respect. The next thing that came out of his mouth almost made you stumble, if not for Bucky, whose hand was still holding you by your elbow.

“If it isn’t our betrothed, Lady (Y/N),” the eyes of every lady at the ball gawking in surprise. What he said quickly spread, and in no time, the rumor became true. You had to pinch yourself to see if this was a dream secretly. It wasn’t. The heat that rushed to your cheeks made the golden king chuckle.

When Bucky reached out to give him your hand, Steve took it and gently brought it to his lips. He did it all while looking at you. The flustered face you made was making his heart sing. Bucky smirked to your side.

“It wouldn’t be rude to steal your dance right after King Bucky?” all you could do was nod as Steve held your hand to dance right at the center of the ballroom.

The dance felt magical. He looked at you like nobody existed except you, him, and Bucky.

It was after the dance when your father grinned at you from ear to ear and the whole place buzzed with whispers and claps that you knew. You realized why it happened. The rumors are now true; It wasn’t a lie. They didn’t have power, and they needed you to get that. Maybe you’re a fool or obsessed by this time, and you didn’t want to admit it, but you’re not upset despite knowing why they had to do that.

So they made the other rumor true. You became the King's betrothed. The courting process came late, but they started it after Steve's announcement.

You were sure that the moment Bucky started the courting process and Steve followed suit, that you craved their love more than you should even when you knew why they did that, the hope still came alive. There’s a hope they’d feel the same way you do towards them to you. It was the start.

They’re transferring you to the dungeon whether you like it or not. And you just knew. That at the end of the hall stood knights waiting for you to get out.

You’re unified for power in the guise of love—there’s no love. Behind the palace walls, it’s a battle for survival.

Left alone after the wedding, Steve and Bucky never visited unless it’s something for your father, a warning, or a problem that needs to be taken care of.

The warmth and the hope during the courting process are gone. They made it clear that they felt nothing other than it being a marriage of convenience. Steve and Bucky had to do it. They had to do it. You repeated in your head. They may have treated you slightly different than the others, but it was nonetheless a ruse.

The struggle to keep the throne is going, and the Kings are on the losing side. The coldness you felt since the day you got married turned into envy.

You envy your past self where they used to care for you and shower you with affection, feigned affection. Despite knowing it’s all for a show, you loved it.

The hands that were once touching the wall fell to your side as you reached the end of the hall. There stood the knights blocking the way, making sure there was no other exit for you to run off.

Your ladies-in-waiting by their side, getting ready to strip every jewelry, every garment that would scream queen. The girls stepped closer, hesitant, but they had to move. You smiled to assure your ladies-in-waiting.

“It’s alright,” you mouthed, and they started by removing your necklace and then the rings that adorn your fingers.

It reminded you of why you were brought in. You have to help them gain control and win the battle of power. Now they’re closer to it because of you, and you’re not needed anymore. You knew that from the very start, you knew it’s all for recognition. Still, you couldn’t help but fall in love even the smallest gesture from them got you bewitched.

Smitten, they would say, and you couldn’t help but resent them for not loving you back; for not letting it evident that they love you, but they had to act that way.

The crown was the last piece taken off your body. Steve appeared along with Bucky at the entrance. The golden hair shines through the sun, a complete contrast to the other king. You looked on blankly with complete expertise of showing no emotion. It’s inevitable to learn the moment you decide to walk your path.

“Anything you want to plead to?” You know it’s Steve who asked you and yet the fluttering on your stomach that you always feel whenever he speaks was gone.

“Nothing? Well then, put the—“ Steve’s annoyance was cut short when you took a step forward. One of the knights raised his sword and pointed it at you. You didn’t care.

“Leave the ducal house out of this. It’s my plan alone. No one’s involved but the council and me,” what came out of your mouth was true, and the dismissive tone made Bucky clench his jaw.

You were going without a fight, and he hated it. He hated that you willingly admitted to everything. They almost had it. They almost had it; why does it have to be you? The tick of his jaw and the squint of his eyes showed how angry he was.

There’s nothing left for them to uncover. All they need to do was put you in the dungeon and wait until your sentence.

You’re only a woman in love, a woman who gave to the whispers of traitors, of greedy council members—a woman who stupidly allowed herself to become blinded and be a puppet. You tried to correct your wrongs when Bucky started to show you affection.

They reciprocated the love you were giving them. Almost a promise that at the end of this battle, you’d be spoiled, and they wouldn’t let a single person hurt you.

You tried to leave hell when Steve gave you a ring, a symbol of trust, of binding.

It was true, what your father told you. All thrones come with a cost. Something will be lost if you let even a small amount of weakness out and that you did.

They’re beginning to show you they care. That it’s more than a ruse, more than a political marriage, they love you. The slightest control they have, and they start showing you signs that you’d stay by their side for the rest of your life. Steve and Bucky’s rise in power was evident, and they’re slowly getting it, and you didn’t wait for them.

You blinded yourself with your greed for their love to wait for them. You had become a puppet, and you couldn’t bring back the control you once had.

Even when they knew they couldn’t—shouldn’t lead you on, they also couldn’t stop themselves from loving you. They couldn’t stop but show subtle affections hidden in the form of giving you gifts.

Sometimes when Steve couldn’t refrain himself from seeing you, he’d be informing you of a problem that needed to be passed to your father to know how you’re doing. It’s easy to fall for you. You’re everything they needed and wanted. They loved you from afar, and Bucky knew he needed the power to protect you. Steve knew that too so they chose to leave you alone than to get you even more involved than they think you already are.

There were days where they’d never visit you at all, while some are as full of warmth as they do.

You can’t fall off your chair and lose the trust you’re slowly gaining because, at last, your love reciprocated.

If it weren’t for the assholes who got you shackled, you wouldn’t be here.

The dungeon you were situated in isn’t made to let you be comfortable. It’s only fitting that it wasn’t.

Both of them missed the signs, and that’s what annoyed Steve the most.

As the sound of metal clacked, you realized it wasn’t the dungeon closing. It’s you put in chains. With only two knights posted by the door, the candles lighting the hall didn’t reach yours. Unable to distinguish the time, you decided to sit there silently until you fell asleep.

The sound of footsteps made you open your eyes. The metal that met the cold floor, you recognized. You didn’t ask how many hours or days it has been since you’ve been placed in the dungeon. You knew it must’ve been a few days by now.

Instead, you waited until the footsteps stopped in front of your cell. You knew who it was by the sound of their steps. Even with your eyes closed, you could tell who’s who: the one who’s always wearing the armor and the one in the finest robes.

“(Y/N),” You looked up at the two kings with the most beautiful ocean eyes you’d never get tired looking at. One with a bit of green in it and the other pale as the ice.

“We’re what cannot be,” Bucky’s words rang in your ear for a long time. They went quiet—unmoving, just watching you.

Bucky tried to save you, tried to bargain for your life, but the rest of the council didn’t want to. He felt as if it was their fault for not protecting you enough.

The words went right through your chest like a stake. You stopped yourself from saying more. We’re what cannot be. Right, because we’ll end up using each other for power, and yet, we end up hurting each other because of love. The one thing we shouldn’t have crossed.

“Marrying you became our greatest mistake.”

What you heard next took a lot of strength to carry on your shoulder. If words could make a wound, it will leave a large one. Those words weren’t easy to accept. You made no move to stand, but your gaze never faltered. You stared, not giving them the satisfaction to see hurt in your eyes. Except for the lone tear that fell before you could stop it, hoping none of them noticed. You’re a queen, their Queen. You’re strong. Even today, Steve believes in it, his queen is strong, but he couldn’t stand not seeing a single hurt on your face. He stared right at you in hopes of seeing something, anything in your eyes.

With a clenched fist and expressionless face, you spat, “and loving the both of you is mine.”

The moment that escaped your lips, betrayal, and disbelief that flashed in their eyes didn’t escape your sight. Even the slightest hint of pain didn’t go past your eyes. If they could leave a wound on you, so would you.

A small smile spread on your lips as you saw their reaction, and that one didn’t escape Bucky.

Steve, ready to kill the two knights posted by the door with all that anger and hurt his eyes showed, had to clench his fist to stop himself from doing so. The disbelief he felt when you said that was too much for him to handle. He wanted to drag you from the dungeon and up their chamber to show you how much of it wasn’t a mistake. He wanted to let you escape.

Steve had to stop himself from doing that. The grip he had on his sword became too tight that it shook. Even the way Steve clenched his jaw, you could see. Every move they make you catch.

Bucky clicked his tongue and moved his sword to his other hand. He’s anxious and hurt from the words that fell from your mouth, but the smile you tried to hide put him at ease. To him, you smiling means you were only trying to get on their nerves. Yet, the pain was still there. It’s as if his heart’s ripped out of his chest.

He frowned a moment after. The sting he felt when he realized you regret loving them was too much. They never said loving you was a mistake, not like you would know. It would never come across them to think that way.

Good God, did you want to take your words back, but what’s done is done. What’s said is said.

You didn’t regret loving them. Goodness, you never did. You regret letting others use you as a means to get to them. It was a mistake; showing people how much you love both of them was the mistake. They succeeded in using that against you. Turning you into a puppet, and you let it happen. Fool.

“I—“ you never let Steve finish and instead said, “don’t cry when I’m gone. Kings don’t weep nor mourn when villains fall, they rejoice,” you stated with the unspoken words rang in the air. You have to, even it hurts.

You held the urge to say; I loved you, I still love you, Bucky bit his lips and averted his gaze. It’s time to let go. You can’t stay.

You sided with them, became the unknown source of information to right the wrongs. But that’s something they’d never know, and you would like to keep it to your grave, what you gave up to save them and the kingdom they love so much.

They gained control, and you lost yours. You became the obstacle people had to go through before they get to your Kings. You had to look strong, pretend to be strong.

In the end, you lost, but that’s better than them losing. Steve and Bucky have to kill you to prove a point. They had to. It’s a show of power. It’s a step to finally purging the council, ridding of the rats.

After all, you worked behind Steve and Bucky’s backs. You tried to control them, take charge, stop them from gaining the power they so wanted, kill them, and try to bring them down. You were even using some of the essential people in their life. You spilled too much blood and were about to spill theirs. Greed almost leads you to make the greatest mistake of your life. It’s treason.

With you gone, HYDRA will fall with no other person to hold on to as Bucky and Steve wield full power. Their hard work will not be for naught.

Your past actions cannot be covered up for as long as you’re not making any moves to do so. Even if you tried—attempted to, you didn’t. You didn’t because you gave yourself to the council of HYDRA willingly, in hopes that, maybe, your marriage isn’t purely political. Blinded by the fact they weren’t in love as you are, you knew it was your fault. Everything is your fault, but surely you had corrected some by giving Steve and Bucky what they have now, something they earned, and you passed.

You didn’t bother to cover up your tracks. All those drops of blood that you spilled were out in the open. All the corruptions were purposely not covered because if you did, your Kings would be the ones in your place now, and the kingdom would fall under the council of HYDRA’s control.

“It’s time, your majesties,” one of the guards told them. Bucky immediately turned to leave as Steve watched you get hauled out of the dungeon.

Bucky couldn’t watch you get dragged out. He would immediately kill those who tried to get their hands on you, and he knew he couldn’t do that.

You were brought to the edge of the forest, along the field where the river separates the whole kingdom from the castle. As you knelt on the grass, the cold breeze made you shiver, and the thin clothes did nothing to make the cold less.

Branded as a traitor and asked to run, up you did. You ran until your lungs burned. You ran as if it could free you as if it would change anything. You ran until your feet bled. You ran until your whole being gave up running and then stopped when you stumbled down when your legs no longer functioned.

You were the prey stalked by predators, and there’s no escape no matter where you run.

Bucky stopped in front of you first, holding the sword, “must we do this, Steve?” he asked. You didn’t lookup. You cannot recover from the shock you felt when you heard what Bucky said.

“Yes,” his sorrow can be felt through the bones. They’re the ones who’ll wield the sword and bring you to your death.

They’re going to watch you fall, and they’re going to feel the weight of your life in their hands for the rest of their life. No. That’s too much. Can’t it be another knight? Can it be not you? You wanted to say, but the words didn’t escape your lips.

You didn’t know you were trembling until Bucky crouched to your level. “My queen,” he called. Despite his cold demeanor, Bucky treated you with so much care. His eyes expressed it too much that it hurt to see.

Steve stood holding a dagger. It’s the dagger you gave him as a gift. He’s using it. You closed your eyes hard.

When you opened them again, it was met with two sets of eyes with the bluest of all blues that you love. At least you get to die seeing them. You grit your teeth in hopes that it’ll make you stop shaking.

You swallowed once and then twice before speaking, your voice hoarse, “if we weren’t in this world, in this universe, if we weren’t in opposing sides, would you have sided with me? Helped me? Loved me?” you had to hear it. You had to. Even when your face betrayed no emotion, your voice says otherwise; the fear, the hurt, the longing, it’s all there, and it broke Steve and Bucky to hear it.

“Yes. It’s always a yes, my queen.”

“We’d make sure to protect you the next time we meet,”

“I love you,”

“I love you” was the last thing you heard before you felt the cold blade against your neck and saw the pained look they had. Your whole head blank, preparing for the strike.

You didn’t notice how Steve stopped Bucky as he raised his sword or how Bucky shook his head in response to that.

They have to carry that guilt. Maybe in another life, you’d all be lucky and live happily. Another wish you hoped would come true.

You tried to smile; you did. You even wanted to say it’s alright and tried to hold their face as they kneeled before you: Bucky’s tear and Steve’s touch.

But you don’t know if you ever did it, or it was all an illusion your head was making because the next thing you felt was cold. It was freezing, as if you were submerged in cold water. Finally, it’s all done.

#bucky barnes #angst #steve rogers #stucky x you #royal au #king bucky #king steve rogers #stucky angst #stucky x reader #King!stucky x queen!reader #stucky royal au #bucky angst #steve rogers angst #Spotify

243 notes · View notes

katsukikitten · 4 years ago

Text

Just some general warnings and disclaimers, this is an aged up Victorian era AU that I did a sort of collab with @bakugotrashpanda, so please check out BTP’s work as well. We had so much fun discussing this idea and breathing life into it, we would love to hear how these stories made you feel. Please also note that the woman in the banner is NOT the set skin tone for reader so please feel free to have that match your own skin tone! Also this is one of my bigger works coming in at a little over 14,000 words! (maybe a part two idk) but enjoy~

The room ebbs in the low light of flickering candles, people gather in clusters like lost geese as they honk their gossip at one another causing you to sigh. It would be another long night of mental games as your cold eyes fail to warm from the eccentric sights. Silk dresses, long gloves, shimmering gems, and endless drink and food.

Yet you hated how little power you had over your choice of being here or not.

Countless eyes rake over your long dress, always choosing a color so deep in hue it is often mistaken for black. They often murmur curiosities as they ponder over what exactly you are mourning.

Little do they know it is your freedom.

Tonight you are in blood red with matching gloves to your elbows, diamonds, garnets and rubies drip from your throat and ears. A sight to be seen in your bold dark colors that are often frowned upon during the bright season of spring and summer.

A bold male approaches and yet the closer he gets to your stunning form the more meek he becomes. He nods his head and reaches for your hand, pressing his lips to your gloved knuckles.

"May I have your first dance?" He peers up at you as you stare down with an icy glare. Removing your hand with deadly precision from a man you know of but could not care less about.

"You may not." You say simply and all he can do is stew in his rejection, affirming your wishes with a small nod. Another male in a smooth storm grey suit approaches. His large hand grasping onto your fingers, bringing your knuckles to his lips.

"You look exquisite my dear. Would you honor me with your first dance?"

"I shall not." Another subtle yet swift removal of your hand from his, wishing you had worn two pairs of gloves for this sniveling little asshole. Not everyone knew his secret love for abusing women but you did. He would never get the pleasure of dancing with you and in the two years since your introduction into the market you've made sure he had no one to wed. Using the power and respect people had towards your Father's name, towards you for guidance, ultimately steering them away from this pathetic sack of bones.

And with your power you were dubbed the icy hot debutante of Alryne, fierce as a flame so hot, it felt cold.

You wear a neutral face, but you do not smile, making yourself a touch unapproachable. This already weeds out the weak men who want nothing more than to suck the blood and money from your father's estate.

But it wasn't as if the neutral face was easy to achieve, oftentimes you had to fight a scowl. For two years you've hated every second of every ball, party, or soiree since the Queen smiled in your favor during your first debut. She often praised, as did your mother, your cold precision, quick wit, and intelligent political decisions that were so well disguised that men just thought you modest.

When in actuality you were playing the game, and since you were being forced to play by your father then by Hell's flames you would win it all.

The first half of the ball drags in stupor of tedious repetition as you idly chat with women of various titles to gather any information you could without revealing your own hand.

Besides all of the pestering gnats, everyone knows that your first dance is always reserved for important males, to never approach until after the two of your six stamps have already been taken. Even then there was a high chance of rejection, as there were no men of value to be seen.

At least not yet. For as long as you could remember the higher ranked males arrived a touch late, "fashionably late" they claim. Abhorrently annoying is what you call it.

Fashionably late men such as Lord Bakugou, son to the Duke of Summer or his distant cousin Lord Kirishima, son to the Duke of Spring.

Bakugou arrives first, his grin wolfish as he scans the crowd, women flock to his arrogance in troves, although he ignores them. He has one woman in his sights yet it is not the woman he stands before. You give a small courtesy as you speak.

"My Lord." Offering your hand gently.

"My Starlight." He presses his lips to your silky glove for a long moment unable to keep his cocky smirk off of his face, "May I take your first dance?"

Fighting to keep the delighted smile off of your face you offer a flutter of your lashes. He kisses your knuckles once more as if you needed convincing but the two of you know what you are doing.

"You may." And with that his wolfish grin returns as he sweeps you onto the dance floor, showcasing your abilities as he shows off his own. Not to mention the dance floor is a great place to talk in private. His hand lingers just above your lower back, firm in his grip as his other hand holds yours almost delicately.

"We match tonight, my Starlight. A brilliant touch." He guides you along the floor with ease, his eyes gesturing towards his vest and tie.

"I only took an educated guess as to what you would wear, my Lord."

"Do not sell yourself short. I know how sharp that mind is." Another wolfish grin, his eyes never leaving yours while feeling the court gaze upon the two of you. You give him a knowing smile before asking.

"Any luck with her majesty, the prized diamond?" You ask, eyes blazing with curiosity. He smirks again, only his eyes revealing his true scoff as he twirls you in your jeweled slippers.

"I did as you instructed and went with my father to that dreaded stay at the countryside Manor, how did you know her Majesty and Princess Amila would be close by."

"I took an educated guess." A blatant lie that has him grinning from ear to ear. He leans closer, pulling the attention of the ladies especially as his ember eyes burn into you.

"Far more than an educated guess." He spins you again and you fight the tightness in your gut. Enjoying the dance as he parades you around the room as if to say look at what I have that you could never.

Even if the two of you agreed you would never be his. The two of you having struck up an arrangement of sorts on your first dance. He was forced by his Grace to ask at least one woman to dance and he had only chosen you with hopes that you would say no.

But you loved the honest, irritated look that lingered in his eyes and on his lips. So of course you said yes as misery loves company. It was then he told you not to fall for him as he had his eyes set on the Crown, you laughed loudly and said "As if I would ever fall for an arrogant pig such as yourself, my Lord." His smile was wild as he enjoyed your insult, it was then you told him you would help him with the Crown, only if he made you his first and last dance of the evening at every event.

Back then he had hesitantly agreed, now he can see how far your scheming mind went. Saw the numerous callers and suitors who loitered in your parlor, the extravagant flowers that they sent in excess. The rings they bestowed to you as they dropped to one knee, bold enough to peacock the large diamonds in front of other callers.

And all after Bakugou had done as you asked for only three parties. He got a front row seat to rejection every single time, which in turn started the talk, the gossip, that this city loved. You were desired because of how you painted yourself and in turn made Lord Bakugou desired as well. Talked about, all because he was the only male who had your approval.

He loved your scheming mind so much he could kiss you, but alas you did not wear a crown. Although you often had a braid of jewels atop your head, sadly you were not kin to royalty, only a Baron's daughter after all.

Bakugou wonders what you could have done as a queen. He would think you an empress.

"Is that all the detail I get? Just a confirmation that I was correct about their holiday?" He spins the two of you in step, hand guiding you although you did not need it. Having memorized every step to every dance there was since before your debut.

"She saw me."

"And?!" You can hardly keep up the façade of calm collection as you wait.

"And she flushed. Her cheeks were as red as any rose, Starlight, she was a rare red diamond sparkling by the lake. She must already be in love with me." You snort, unable to stop the smile on your lips.

"I've never heard you so poetic before. Normally you leave that to Lord Kirishima. How many times did you run into her? Not more than three I hope."

"Oi, I am a well versed student and I listened to my teacher. I made her wait for the fourth and denied it. Left her in wonder and hope as you said." He rolls his eyes, fingers sliding up to your dress line touching your bare skin with his beneath your guise of hair. The sensation of his warm fingers against your cool skin does not go unnoticed.

"Are you practicing for your dance with the 'rare red diamond' now?" You taunt, earning that chest tightening wolf grin.

"I'm only doing as my teacher has instructed."

"Well the Princess will fall for you the moment you kiss her hand."

"One can only hope. Her official debut is less than a month away. I want it to be perfect." His eyes shimmer with plotting mischief as does yours.

"So it shall."

The music flows and ebbs to the end of the song as Bakugou deposits you right back where he got you. Bringing your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles as he holds your gaze once more.

"My Starlight." When he straightens you curtsy.

"My Grace." With that he leaves, heading towards the table of sweets and beverages, you were sure he would be ordering bourbon. Your mother clears her throat from her chair, the out of season silk blanket over her thick skirts pulls at your heart. She sits on that plush chair as if it were her throne.

"You dance with Lord Bakugou often." An observation.

"Indeed." A dry retort.

"I am sure Lord Kirishima will be your next dance, correct?"

"One can only hope."

"So you have an eye for a Duke's son?"

"I am happy to dance with those deserving, Mother." Your mother keeps her eyes on the turning bodies on the hardwood floor, Kirishima makes his way through the crowd once he spies you. Your mother turns to face you as she says

"Is the Duke of Winter's son deserving?"

"Hmm, he has three sons, mother." You keep your eyes away from her until she finally looks back into the crowd.

"Ah yes but only one is ever at these events." You follow your mother's gaze and they fall upon the Lord, he is the third son, he opted to chase after the world of medicine rather than women. Earning his doctorate much faster than his peers, he only just returned to conduct his practice in Alryne.

Pity he returned at all.

He catches your eye and you make a point to turn your cheek, unable to stomach his heterochromatic, condensing gaze. Your turned cheek was as close to fuck you as you could ever say to the high and mighty Lord. Still the words burned on your tongue as if you swallowed acid.

"It is not as if he ever dances mother. Therefore, how can I give him my attention? As you taught me a woman must wait to be asked as it is every woman's dream to be wed to a handsome, skilled dancer." Out of the corner of your eye you can feel her displeased look before she straightens.

"At least do not string along Lord Kirishima, that boy is not as zealous as his cousin." She says just as the large man slips through the last throng of the crowd.

"My shining gem." He smiles with sharp teeth before he places a chaste kiss atop your hand.

"My Lord." A curtsy before he asks.

"May I have this dance?" His smile is plastered on his face as he knows your answer.

"You may." Kirishima sweeps you across the floor in a different manner than Bakugou. Lord Kirishima is more flirtatious in the way that he guides you. Always choosing more of the upbeat dances as opposed to his cousin's serious selection. You do not hesitate to go in for the kill.

"So when do you plan to ask Lady Mina for her hand?" He blushes at your words. Biting the inside of his lip subtly, a habit you could only notice from being up close.

"Have you even attempted to court her? What fear plagues you, Lord?" Confusion dots your features as a sad smile paints his soft lips.

"I am not sure she would- That we would be an ideal fit." Kirishima admits, turning you gracefully, pulling you close to his body. Scandalous some would say had the two of you been an inch closer.

"Well my Lord, I believe, had you actually talked to her while the two of you danced, as I suggested, then you would come to find out that she is lovely. Pure hearted as she is honest in this game seeking love. Most women here are making attempts to move up in position, my Lord. As a Duke's first son the title of Grace is yours to master. She is a delight and air is not the only thing between her ears as some of these…"You survey the room as everyone watches with greedy eyes, "Vultures."

He laughs never used to your own unwavering honesty. He knows you are not participating by your own free will, he knows because you are helping himself and his cousin when he was sure you could have had anyone in this room.

If the Majesty's nephew, Prince of the Yarrow were to attend even one ball this season, Kirishima was sure you would have his attention too.

He twirls your body away from his and brings you back to the safety of his sturdy form. Your eyes are molten determination as you all but hiss

"Ask her to dance next. You know the host prefers the set to be serious, flirtatious, and then a slow dance. It will be the perfect time to talk."

Lord Kirishima sighs, squeezing your hand as he guides the two of you closer to your mother so he can leave you in her company.

"You could turn any dull man into something more. Whoever wins your hand is getting a precious gem indeed." He kisses your hand as the music begins to change into something slower as you had predicted.

"One shall only hope." You curtsy as he takes his flushed neck towards a certain Countess. Your mother gives you a knowing look and you offer her a cat smirk. She shakes her head but even she cannot hide her own satisfied smile.

A blonde male approaches, as he does every third ball after he ensures your first two dances have been taken. The flamboyant male has not once asked for a dance first, trying to be just as calculating as you. Although he is much more obvious.

You suppose it was not half bad for a male.

"My lady." He bends lower than he should for his station in life, but he is obviously copying the cousins before him having seen how it makes you smile.

Lavender eyes shine up at you as the Viscount brings his lips to your gloved hand. You debate if you should say yes tonight. Having left him in the dark as your desire to dance with him solely depended on your mood.

"May I show the room the grace in which steals the breath from my lungs?" Your eyes smirk as your lips form a small smile. It seems flattery would earn him a dance tonight.

"You may."

The Viscount smiles with delight as he gently takes you to the dance floor, holding you to him as he takes you across the hardwood. The candle lights play along your features as Monoma's face grows soft. Had he been anyone else his gaze might have brought a flush about you. The two of you shared a few dances before, he has sat in your parlor in the time he has attempted to court you and the flowers he sends are always the most expensive.

He has even brought you chocolate from a month's long trip. Even you had to admit that was thoughtful, not too many people knew of your Achilles heel. A small part of you thought that if no one else would do, at least this man would bring you luxurious chocolates.

"No trips this season?" You smile politely, he blinks as he seems to come to.

"Only if I can take you with me." He smiles, a hint. You pretend yourself modest and look away to fight the roll of your eyes.

Maybe chocolate would not be enough to sate you.

His eyes flicker to your mother as a question forms on his lips.

"Neither your brothers nor the Baron attended tonight?"

"Ah unfortunately no. My mother is my chaperone tonight." You say tilting your head, he turns so you can face her, stepping slowly as the song lulls on.

"I am elated she is well enough to attend." He smiles, you cannot tell if it reaches his eyes so instead you offer

"As am I."

The rest of the night is filled with rejection tumbling from your rouged lips as champagne flutes seem to find their way into your hand.

"Not too much of that dear or you will not be able to enjoy the company of your suitors."

"Truly a pity." You say taking another from a passing waiter. Eyes trained on Lord Iida and the lovely dancer in his hands, a blue dress sweeping across the floor and a white carnation nestled in her hair.

A beautiful touch and it pays homage to their first dance before they were even wed.

The love that embraced the couple could turn anyone in the room green with envy.

You down your flute as you reach for another.

Night brightens into morning much too soon as curtains are ripped open in your room.

"My lady callers will be here soon." Rose, your handmaiden says softly, "I have a bath waiting for you."

You groan in response having not had enough sleep after pouring over your drafts for your book until your candle snuffed itself out.

"Turn them all away Rose." You growl turning away from the irritating light, could it not have rained this morning to delay the suitors as it always did in this forsaken town?

"She will do no such thing." Your mother says as she walks into your room with her cane, her hand gripping onto the golden beak of a bird.

"Mother, why not marry off Hendrix or Hideki?"

"Hendrix must apprentice under your Father for a period of time while Hideki can do as he pleases for now. He is only 20, besides he makes an excellent chaperone does he not? He isn't too nosy nor does he neglect his duties to intimidate pushy men." She pushes some of your hair back as she sighs, "Although I doubt you need help in that manor."

"I deserve a strong bloodline, so I will do what I must to ensure that. Even if my face has to be scary at times." You and your mother share a laugh before she adds.

"Your face is far from scary my dear." She touches your cheek softly rising from the bed to allow you to get ready, "The suitors shall arrive within the hour. Make haste."

"Yes mother." You half groan rising to wash. Enjoying the warm water that Rose has so kindly added aromatic flora and citrus to. Once you enter your bedroom Rose has a dress picked out for you, waiting for your final approval. You nod allowing Rose to assist you with your corset and strings of your dress before you pick out jewelry to match your silver finery. You choose a silver bracelet with little diamonds as stars that Lord Bakugou had given you for your birthday this past year, smiling down at the small thing before assessing yourself in the mirror.

"What do you think Rose, should I add some rouge to my lips?" She gives you a smile of delight.

"And your cheeks too, my Lady."

Breakfast is served in the parlor as it consists mostly of fruits and finger pastries that will be served to the other guests. Hideki comes down in a fine and deep sapphire suit.

“Sister.” He gives a smirk to which you nod.

“Brother.”

“And what trouble will you get into today?” He stage whispers, causing you to cut him a glare as your father comes around to loom in the arch way of the parlor.

“Remember, you need to pick a husband this season or I will pick for you. It is disgraceful to have gone through two seasons at your age.”

“I am only twenty four, dearest Father..”

“That just proves my point. You have a month before I extend an offer to the Duke's-.” He takes in a sharp breath to chide you further only for his Grace to swoop in and save the day.

“Baron.” Bakugou says, his eyes challenging as your father bows his head. As Bakugou makes his way towards the delicate foods. Father cuts you a knowing glare. As if to say I know your games child.

You offer a sweet smile as you make your way towards your small writing desk, fighting off the urge to groan outwardly. You just wanted to work on your manuscript or read for that matter. Instead you would have to entertain men who cared not what you thought only what your pretty mouth would not say. They would swarm you, demanding attention as you waved them off gently, half you had never even spoken too. Bakugou gives you a wicked smile from beside you as if he could read your thoughts. At least he always sat closest to you, saving you in a way although you never instructed him to sit close.

He just always had.

"Do you not want to play the piano today, my shining Gem?" Kirishima asks from the door.

"Ah I am not sure I am in the mood for it, my Lord."

"Easier to avoid people as the bench is only meant for one." Bakugou gives a devilish smirk, Kirishima almost pouts, his sullen expression does not go unnoticed by his cousin.

"It has been an eon since you last played for us." Bakugou adds.

"Am I to be your song bird today?" You cut a glare at him.

"Yes, Starlight I believe you are." It seems it had no effect. Sighing you stand, collecting your skirts as your wrist twinkles in the morning sun. Garnet eyes bore into the delicate wristlet. Your fingers pluck a key here or there until you begin to play. Losing yourself in the music as you sing ballads from ages ago, melding them into songs you've written until it all sounds like a cohesive piece. Each old song is lost in transition to the new one, time ticks on but you do not notice the string of men who come and go from your parlor. Resting your voice for the time being as your fingers fly across the keys to something you composed while thinking of your father and his ever pushing hand towards a Duke's son you had great distaste for. The notes are sharp, almost jarring at times yet still the piece is stunning. In that time you had not noticed the lavender eyed man who sat closest to you, right in front of the piano in the corner of the couch. The finger cramping song ends on a somber, harsh note.

"What a beautifully charged song." Monoma says breathlessly.

“Well I was thinking of my enemies when I composed it.” You smile at the sunshine blonde with a devilish grin, he feels unsettled by it but says nothing nonetheless. His lavender eyes glance over to the wolves at the back of your den. Hideki gives him a small nod, Kirishima a soft smile but Bakugou gives him a glare that feels like Monoma is gripping needles.

He swallows thickly, adjusting himself on the plushed silk of the couch before your small piano.

“Ah before I forget.” He smiles pulling out a box setting it atop the polished wood. Gifts were a natural part of courtship or so your mother said. You offer a smile, grabbing for the box with poised eagerness and yet not overly so.

Not that you were excited but you had to pretend to be. You unbox the obvious jewelry and fight back the distaste as you stare down at a gaudy, overly large necklace. The colors are a soft green and yellow, colors you avoid for many reasons.

“Thank you.” You think to add a chord or two to your unnamed song in honor of Monoma. Bakugou laughs loudly from the back of the room, feeling how much you hate the gift, you look over your shoulder to send him a glare that he can only smile at.

After hours of trepid and boring conversation Monoma takes his leave.

“Another evening my Lady.” He smiles softly and you return it half heartedly.

“Another evening.” Lavender looks over your shoulder before Monoma clears his throat

“Your Grace and your Grace.” He bows his head, the ash blonde and redhead nod in unison.

"Shall we go and drink my high friends?" Hideki asks, hoping for an excuse to leave the stuff house. He was more than over bearing witness to gag worthy stares and compliments some of these men gave you.

"An excellent idea!" Kirishima exclaims, standing before stopping by you. He takes your gloveless hand with a sharp, flirtatious smile.

"My shining gem." He presses his lips to your skin and you return his smile.

"My Lord." He nods and takes his leave, Hideki at his heels as Bakugou approaches. He does an exaggerated sigh unable to hide his smirk.

"Little songbird how will I ever get through the night without my Starlight?" He holds your hand, lowering his upper half as did his cousin before him.

"I suppose you will fumble in the dark."

"If only I had the pleasure." He purrs as he presses his lips to your bare skin. Suddenly his fingers are too warm as he holds your gaze, he looks as if he could devour you.

Lest he forget he is staring down a panther himself.

"Have fun fumbling in the dark by yourself, my Lord." You remove your hand and look out of the corner of your eye at him. He backs towards the door of the room.

"I should hope to have thoughts of Starlight." He calls before he disappears into the hall. You tap a key as your mind wanders before you rise, famished and ready for dinner before you would take a long night of writing.

A month passes by faster than you'd like and you find yourself outside of the ballroom in the grand hall of the castle. Soft music filters in through the doors as your Father insisted the family be a bit late this evening.

For he wanted to make a statement and one at your expense.

"If Duke Enji's son asks you for a dance you will oblige." Your father hisses, his large hand curling around your bicep. You bare your teeth, stepping out of his grip as you collect yourself.

"He has three." Acid drips from your tongue as sure as morning dew.

"The doctor. Not the failure first born and not the inadequate second. The third. Shoto. Think of your ailing mother...would you abandon her for such vile, pointless ambitions?"

"I think you will not weaponize her. So do as I please and decline." You hold his burning glare as you add, "If the Duke's family is as bad off as you make it seem."

"Oh I think you shall accept his dance. Or so help me God I will burn every book your ill, grief stricken mother ever shoved into your scrubby little hands." He leans closer, a nasty smile forming as his lips, "And if that is not enough I will throw your manuscript into the fire for fodder."

Your eyes blaze with a rage that ignites beneath your skin, burning your blood as your eyes make unspoken promises. When I am through with you

You part your lips to retort but your eye catches Hendrix and Hideki, their eyes filled with pity before your mother slowly approaches.

Father chose his battleground well, knowing you would be unable to react as you pleased and with Bakugou already at the party there was no other male to save you. You bite your tongue until you taste blood.

"Is everything alright?" Mother asks tentatively, fussing with your hair, "Darling you must mind your face, my love."

You swat her away, breathing through your nose as if you were a dragon. Heat still dancing in your veins as you allow your feet to move on their own.

"Announce me. Only me. And do not announce another soul until I am beyond the last step." You hiss to the harbinger whose eyes grow wide before he nods. His voice booms over the murmurers of the crowd and once eyes begin to land on you they are silenced.

Your eyes are set hard and as cold as stone as you look over the crowd, slowly descending the steps in your deep ombre gown. Starless night black from the bodice before it lightens gradually into a charcoal grey, glittering crystals sewn into the material shine in the candle light like miniature stars. Your gloves followed the same gradual pattern except it seemed as if each finger was dipped in glittering silver and atop your wrist was your favorite piece, diamonds winking in the low light set into silver pointed stars. Woven in your hair were diamonds and pale citrine alike forming a crown in its own nature.

Had Her Royal Highness not have already been announced and seated it would be easy to mistake you for the Crown. Considering how you commanded attention and held yourself, eyes looking at no one but seeing all.

The envy, the awe, the lust.

A pivotal moment was coming, the last three stairs is where a woman would normally hold out their hand, expecting their favorite suitor to take action but you did not hold out your hand. Keeping one firmly on the dark wood of the banister while the other was eloquently posed beside you. Even if you had held out your hand the men in the room were too stunned to step up to help you. This allowed a soft, devilish smile to form on your painted lips as they performed exactly as you had planned. Finally your gem encrusted slipper touched the hardwood, parting the crowd before the spell was broken by the announcement of the rest of your family. The room let out a collective breath and instantly erupted in hot gossip. All of it falling on deaf ears as you grabbed onto a flute of trusted champaign.

From across the room you felt burning garnet eyes on you, you met them briefly before sipping at your bubbly beverage. He begins to cross the sea of bodies when a large man steps into your view.

His eyes are cold as they bore into you, a shining sapphire paired with a smokey quartz. Distaste curdles your stomach as you fight to keep your face neutral and your eyes trained on him. Fans block painted lips as they spread more gossip about the man before you.

"Is she ensnaring another Duke's son?"

"She is becoming too haughty for a Baron's daughter."

"Do you think she insulted the Crown with her entrance?"

"Would you allow me your first dance?" His deep voice cuts through the vultures' cries pulling you back to him. He has your glittering left hand in his. Brining the dazzling glove to his lips in greeting, there is no joy in his gemstone gaze.

The hot rage bears its teeth again as it surges through your blood like liquid fire, burning so hot it felt cold as it licked at your bones. Your lip barely twitches, No poised on your tongue as your father's grating voice echoes in your head.

"Think of your ailing mother...would you abandon her for such vile, pointless ambitions?"

And so your mouth finally forms the words.

"You may." He looks surprised, surrounding faces mirror his own before he fully takes your hand. Guiding you to the floor during one of your favorite songs that you always sat out as no dance partner ever dared the secret, advanced steps. You were steeling yourself for disappointment

Shoto's grip on your body is tight but not uncomfortable as he sweeps you across the dance floor, twirling you, guiding you as he holds your gaze. His stare is heavy and intense in a different manner from Bakugou's with a hint of something that could be mistaken as flirtatious. But you saw it for what it was, discontent.

As the song pushed on the discontent seemed to change into something new entirely as he showcased your skill while hiding his own. Allowing you to twirl away from him in several rotations that would make even the most skillful dancer fearful of misstep and yet you breathed in the music as if it were precious air. Neither of you notice how the other dancers give you room, allowing for more twirls and advanced steps as the two of you are becoming lost to the music. His fingers brush your bare skin as he pulls you back to him for guided, sharp steps as the music heightens. His skin brushes yours again, electricity thrums beneath the pads of his fingers before he sends you into another dizzying rotation but to you it was nothing. Briefly you wonder if this were a test until you see the soft smile on his lips when you return to his arms safely for the final set of guided steps before the music were to abruptly end, just as the dance was intended. His eyes were glued to yours the entirety of the dance, softening with each step.

Both of you stop in beat with the last soaring note panting as the movement seems to catch up with the two of you. Neither of you realize how quiet the room is until clapping comes from the royal dais high above the room, the rest of the crowd follows suit. Shock melts into a smile as your eyes return to his. A sharp pain rings out in his chest.

"Not bad for a Baron's daughter." Disgust settles on your face faster than you can stop it spewing from your lips.

"Not bad for a recluse of a Duke's son." You tilt your head up, fighting the snarl of your lip as his face becomes so mind numbingly neutral while his eyes darken. Shoto drops you off by your mother only for Bakugou to approach, swiftly bringing you to the floor for a slow song.

"Starlight. How did I not know you could dance like that?" He is astonished by your skill, "I've never seen you so happy. Maybe the Duke of Winter's third son will do you justice yet."

You scoff but all Bakugou can do is offer you a deadly smile.

"Enough about my dead end dancing." Your eyes glance towards the dias, the Princess cannot look away from the two of you, "This should be enough for the Princess to want to dance soon."

It is Bakugou's turn to scoff.

"Are you sure she is even going to have the opportunity to dance? No one is even allowed on the stairs to their enclave."

"Ah but this is her debut. The Queen will allow it, besides the princess cannot keep her gaze off of a certain ash blonde."

"How could she ever?" Your laugh rings out, it warms even the coldest hearts as Bakugou pulls you closer to him. Heat radiates from his body in a calming manner, your fingers squeeze his.

"Arrogant as ever." You smile, thinking how you will miss dancing with him or even having him at the back of your parlor to laugh with over sad attempts at your hand, "Remember once you take her one dance for the night, she must be your first and last dance of the night in the future, if not your only."

Bakugou cannot hide the dejection in his eyes even as he feigns cockiness.

"I am a well versed student, remember?" His fingers brush over your skin, his middle finger tracing a small circle.

"The best student I could ask for." The music comes to a close on more than just the song as Bakugou returns you to your family. He presses a long kiss to your glittering glove.

"Until we meet again, my Starlight." He holds your stare.

"Until then my Grace." With that the night sets into motion as you turn down dances left and right. Eyeing a ruby haired man who twirls a certain countess in his hands. As the music ends the Queen stands earning a hushed crowd.

"My daughter, the Royal Princess shall take the dance floor, she will only allow one dance on the night of her debut." It is not a shock that she is allowed so little but there is no worry on Bakugou's face. The princess straightens at the top of the stairs, trying to exude the same commanding energy you did. She falls short in power but outshines you in other wordly innocence and grace. As if she were a lily that only bloomed for the moon, her beauty unmatched in her pale pink dress. Carefully she guides the layers of it down the steps as diamonds and pearls drip from her hair and throat. She tries to keep her eyes from sticking to a broad shouldered man and yet at the same time from wandering, as she stares at the back wall of the room.

As she nears the third step Bakugou struts towards his prize with the ease of a relaxed swagger, glaring at men as he passes before he reaches the bottom of the steps. Extending his hand to the Princess just as she hits the third step from the bottom. She cannot keep the smile off of her face as her gloved hand claps onto his bare fingers. He bows deeply, raising her hand above him to look from beneath long lashes before he brings his lips to the silk.

"Your Royal Highness, my shining diamond. You are truly the envy of the night." A flush gives the Princess' lack of experience away, "May I have this dance?"

"You may." It is a breathy answer before Bakugou sweeps her off of her feet. Charming her with each calculated step and arrogant quip. The princess smiles wide and almost pouts once the music begins to ebb. Bakugou returns her to the stairs, supporting her hand as long as he can before she rises out of reach.

But to Bakugou she never was and never will be unattainable.

Before the night is over an envelope is pressed into your hands with the Crown's seal pressed into the wax. You quirk your brow, tucking it away to be read at home.

"I am so elated you came." Her voice is like honey as the butler opens the doors to a parlor so large it could hold your entire home. She guides you towards a small table and fights with the layers of her silk dress before sitting.

"How could I reject a personal invitation from her majesty?" You sit across from her, eyes going over the deck of cards and a set of tea.

"Well, believe it or not, I do not have the pleasure of friends, so please call me Amila."

"Everyone would desire to be a friend of the Crown, your Royal Highness." You counter, quickly she points her fan towards you, tapping your side of the small ornate card table.

"Ah but you do not have the desire to befriend the Crown, so I have high hopes that you will befriend me for me." She smiles, a certain gleam to her eye before she says, "Now let's talk about handsome Bakugou and how well you played me."

Your face gives nothing away as you look up from the cards you've been dealt. Your mind rushes down all possible avenues but you know to avoid the one of playing dumb. It is obvious that the Princess has a keen eye.

"Surely you'll reveal to me what gave us away."

"After that dance Bakugou had with me, had I been anyone else he would have returned to you. He either has his only dance with you or his last dance with you. I figured him or Lord Kirishima to be heavily interested in you. You are a sparkling gem amongst the coal down there so I know you have many callers and suitors. But the last to leave are always Lord Bakugou and Lord Kirishima. That is what has thrown me off the scent." You laugh at her honesty of the knowledge she has obviously collected about you or was tactful enough to guess.

"This is what we do, your Royal Highness." Your gloved hand gestures to the table, "I take them for all that they are worth." An honest giggle leaves Amilia's lips.

"For that I am grateful and some would dare say I am in your debt."

"A brazen statement." Your eyes return to your cards, "I would not state it as a debt although I am happy to receive your gratitude. Especially since it is in the form of cards and cake."

A laugh falls from her lips as a smile settles on yours. The round of cards continues. You win the first few rounds and then Amelia has a lucky hand. Winning the last white tea macaron.

"Did you allow me to best you?"

"Lady Luck just happened to take favor of the Crown."

"Or maybe she took pity. " She smiles, fingers fidgeting nervously, "Would you care to admire the art? Mother allows me to have this as my own personal parlor so I decorate it as I wish."

"I would love to admire some of these lovely paintings. Starting with the one behind you." You stand, heading to the large piece you had been eyeing for some time during the games. You could tell by the stroke of the brush that the artist was newer to painting but they were quite talented, the strokes almost went unnoticed even by your sharp eye.

Most importantly were the emotions the work of art evoked from the viewer.

Silently the two of you drank in the large oil painting. The canvas colored in deep pinks, reds and oranges as the sun laid to rest to allow its lover the full scope of the sky. Shadows stretched far and towards the viewer and if one paid close attention they would notice the black cat in the corner with two large moon eyes.

You especially liked this painting, the ease it made you feel even earning a small smile.

"I can already tell this one is by far my favorite, your Royal Highness you have a fine eye for art." She blushes at your compliment, twisting some of her low hanging hair. You keep your amusement of her flustering to yourself, eyes trained on the swirling colors of the rippling blue mirror of the sky, looking for a signature.

Odd, there isn't a looping set of initials in the corner like most have. As if reading it on your face she speaks.

"I- I am the artist…" It is shy and soft, unlike the Princess and you realize the weight of the truth. That she had not heard one genuine compliment of anything that she had ever done.

All she would ever receive is flattery and only for the hopes of kindness from the Crown. Finally time swallows up her sudden meekness as she blurts out.

"Are you sure Lord Bakugou is not in love with you? I know you fancy Lord Todoroki, Doctor Shoto."

"I do not fancy the Doctor, he simply is the most logical option I have currently, he would make a fine partner and husband. The seasons have not brought anyone new and my days of spring are limited." You idly move to the next painting as you speak, "As far as Lord Bakugou, he and I are too much alike. Too ambitious for our own good, we'd either explode or implode I'm afraid. Like some tragic star in the vast galaxy."

"You would not marry for love?"

"It is best to marry for a strong partnership, love is a possible byproduct, however it proves to be a rarity. Love comes with time, your Royal Highness, a luxury us women do not have." You glance her way, "Not even a Princess is immune to this unfortunate condition from which all women suffer."

"But he looks at you with intense burning, with...love."

A quiet moment passes between the two of you before you offer your honesty.

"He would learn to look at you that way, more than he would see the Crown. Especially with your mind and artistic skill. He would be a fool not to fall for you." Her eyes water at your response, "Come, let me teach you how to best Bakugou at his favorite card game, Amelia."

When you return home later that afternoon Bakugou is fidgeting outside of the manor causing your brow to furrow. Then it dawns on you that one of your brother's has a big mouth and told his Grace where you would be.

"My Lord."

"Starlight." He offers you a strong arm and you take it as he guides you up the stairs and into the parlor just off the foyer.

"Are you here to gossip?" You trust Bakugou enough to go without a chaperone, besides the doors to the parlor are wide open. You sink into your writing chair as he takes his normal seat by your side. The plush cushions do not ease his twitching fingers before you give him a playful shove.

"Out with it then!" You giggle, the sound pulls a devilish smirk from the blonde seemingly easing whatever troubled his mind. He leans back into the cushions.

"So, how much did her Highness speak of me? Endless compliments no doubt." His teeth flash white as you roll your eyes.

"And here I thought you had a pressing matter." You move to turn away from him to focus on writing but he grabs onto your knee. Giving it a gentle squeeze as his face gives him away. The tips of his ears burn before he clears his throat.

"I have to show you something and I need your honest opinion." Silence is his answer as you patiently wait for him to produce the mystery item. Slowly he reaches into his pocket, a black velvet box is in his hands. A smile blooms on your lips as you anticipate the ring he must have picked for the princess. He opens the box and your heart free falls into your stomach.

It is a pear shaped black diamond flanked by silvery diamonds that wink in the afternoon sun. At the top of the circle of diamonds was a deep red garnet that looked like a drop of blood. The ring felt powerful if it could make one feel such a thing. You fist your skirts as you collect yourself. He watches your face contort as you look over the ring, his jaw ticking with worry as you assess what is essentially both his ego and pride.

But the ring is breathtaking, perfect really.

"Katsuki, it is a gorgeous ring…" Your voice trails as you admire it, "But I believe the princess to have less...moody tastes. She does not normally wear dark colors."

A small silence stretches between the two of you, almost as if he expects something else, quickly he snaps the box shut.

"This is why I ask you things, my stunning Starlight." He pulls out a red velvet box popping it open. This ring is beautiful as well but does not have your heart as much as the first.

It is a stunning and giant marquise cut white diamond. Blinding in the light with a halo of pale pink diamonds. It is vibrant, radiant like the princess. Katsuki always did pick out the perfect jewelry to match a woman's tastes. Bakugou watches your face carefully, the sad smile that pulls your lips upward causes a deep ache in his chest. His jaw ticks again but you answer before he can even think to lash out.

"Your Grace, this will surely win her heart." He looks you in your eyes, a flash of an emotion you cannot quite catch before his arrogance returns.

"Indeed it shall. We can discuss the best date to ask another time." He closes the box and tucks them both away, he grabs your left hand, fingers ghosting over the bracelet he gave you, "You seem tired, you should get some rest."

"I believe that to be a grand idea." You say softly as he kisses each knuckle. He squeezes your fingers.

"My life would be dark without you my Starlight." You fight to keep the bitterness out of your voice as you reply.

"Soon you will have a shining diamond to light up your life."

"Only thanks to you." With that he takes his leave.

With burning eyes you add to your manuscript, foolishly writing a love story as your other novels have been completed. The candle dwindles as the hours pass before your hunched shoulders ache from the poor posture and lack of movement. You stretch, yawning as you do before you decide to head to bed.

Expecting an empty foyer you are surprised to see your father looming in the hall, your mother standing solemn by his side. Her fingers clutch at her pearls as your eyes catch sight of bags at their feet. It is not unusual for them to leave in the middle of the night in order to keep the severity of your mother's health from the limelight.

"Is there troubling news?" Anxiety twitches in your fingers as you clasp them together. Although your father's next words make your fingers want to wrap around his thick neck.

"We have been invited for an extended stay at Duke Enji's manner in the countryside in hopes the two of you will court one another."

"Father that is scandalous in itself."

"Not if an engagement comes of it. Which one will, whether you fall for him or not, young lady. The matter has been decided among the men." His words sting like a slap in the face. Where most would cry you lash out.

"Oh, I get it. Per usual the men can think with nothing more than what hangs between their legs, fearful that theirs is not long enough. So the men do all that they can to control everything but their own fragility." You step towards your father and he takes a step back, "Or is it more gruesome than that? One blackmailing the other? I just cannot imagine the ambitious Duke wanting a Baron's daughter for his son. Unless his family is so far in decline he must place the weight on his new heir and bride."

His eyes widen unnaturally before he is frothing at the mouth.

"YOU WILL NOT SPEAK OUT OF TURN. YOU WILL LEARN YOUR DAMN PLACE. " He slaps you, causing a hush to fall over your family. Your eyes are wide with animalistic rage as you lunge only for Hendrix and Hideki to hold you back. Both strong men begin dragging you away.

"Forgive her, Father." Hendrix starts before Hideki finishes, "You know how the heat gives women a touch of hysteria."

"We will help her pack her bags."

All the while your mother looks at her husband in horror. The sight falls beneath the stairs before you are shoved onto your bed.

"Sister!" Hendrix roars while the youngest brother looks flustered, worried, "What were you thinking? You know how closed minded father is."

Hideki cuts the eldest a look before he adds.

"We are just worried. Normally you keep your wrath at bay."

"As much as it may come as a surprise. I am only human." You rise from the bed asking Rose to prepare you a trunk. To pack anything, that you did not care as you sat at your desk furiously writing. Your bothers watch you with curious eyes as the tension seems to subside before they take their leave.

Minutes tick by before you're standing in the foyer. Father and mother were already sitting in the carriage that waited outside under the cover of misty rain. Hendrix and Hideki stand awkwardly by the round table in the middle of the foyer. Pretending to fuss over lavish flowers Lord Bakugou had sent that morning. A beautiful arrangement of roses and hydrangeas, two of your favorites, the Lord knew of them through observation alone. You wait patiently until one brother makes eye contact with you. Hideki breaks first, guilt shining in his eyes as it threatens to spill over. It is obvious he does not want you to leave the house, his normally crooked smile falters. You cup his cheek, smiling up at your sentimental younger brother, he acts as if you will never come back.

Maybe there is some truth in that.

"Cry not, for I have an iron will while father's is but made of glass." You swipe the tear, before pressing two letters into his chest, "Besides I have an important task for you."

"Is it your scheming?" Hendrix chides and you laugh in answer before continuing.

"These are for Lord Bakugou and Lord Kirishima, it is imperative you deliver these letters." The paper contained important instructions for not only a successful proposal but a marriage as well.

You'd be damned if all three of you would turn out miserable.

"I'll put them in the post."

"No hand deliver them." Your eyes turn icy causing both brothers to go rigid, "And should I find out the seal has been broken before their arrival I shall take the family jewels from between your legs."

"Is that any way for a lady to talk, my dearest sister?" A jest in an attempt to lighten your souring mood.

"Yes, it is."

"They will be in their hands by this evening. We are wagering on a fight tonight. Enjoy your stay." Hideki leans in close with a tease but his voice almost cracks, "Make sure the rock is huge."

"Indeed." Hendrix agrees with an almost sad look in his eye, leaving you to wonder what it is that they know and you do not.

Well, you do know why they have such long faces, you just do not care to admit. You wave to them and their eyes catch on the silvery reflection of diamonds on your wrist.

The manner is stifling to say the least. The large, grand thing is as your trunk is set in your room that overlooks a small garden and the long sweeping hill that leads home. You pace your room before a knock comes at your door.

Hoping to ignore it, having not the desire to speak to a soul, your feet quiet. You listen for them to retreat but instead a louder knock sounds out. Before his grating voice floats from beneath the door and through the keyhole.

"I know you are in there, my lady."

Ugh, that stupid doctor stood on the other side of the door. Still you ignore him.

"It is rude to ignore your host." It ignites something in your stomach before you rip the door open. Eyes ablaze as Todoroki stands perfectly still in his onyx black suit sans jacket. White sleeves rolled up showcasing his strong forearms.

"Surely, a good host would not force his guests to his estate?"

"A good host would not mention how unwanted their guest is." His smile is sickeningly polite, eyes as cold as yours. It is hard to keep your composure as you breathe in deeply through your nose, eyes widening before you slam the door in his face.

Only once you hear his footfalls retreat and the moon shines long on your floor boards do you finally make your way towards the door. A woman on a mission as you yank the door open, uncaring that you were not in much but a thick white nightgown that could be mistaken for a dress. You rush for the stairs and through the door just off their back parlor, having memorized it from the long winded tour both your father and his Grace Enji insisted the small party take of the grounds.

A cool summer breeze whips your hair this way and that as it dries the sweat that sits at your nape. Normally people would describe this feeling as miserable, that even the breeze had a bit of heat to it, but you.

You lived for it. Twirling in the moonlight you allow yourself a moment for vulnerability you often cannot afford before you go deeper on the grounds, closer to the woods that lie just beyond the manor.

Once you are at the edge you give the grand home a glare with your back towards the woods. The creatures of the night sing their symphonies well into the late hour. A twig snaps behind you cause you to turn about face, your eyes meet with lavender framed beneath light lashes.

Ice runs through your blood as you faintly recall him speaking of these trees by his own countryside manor. He often went to these grounds to hunt.

So why was he standing on the Todoroki grounds?

"So it is true?" Monoma chokes out an ugly sound. It is between defeat and a snarl. He takes a step closer, "Whisked away in the night. Did Todoroki steal your maiden head from me?"

Your eyes widen at his scandalous accusation and it is then you see how truly disheveled he is. Hair plastered to his forehead, his canary suit stained green from foliage. The fabric even darkening beneath his armpits and at his collar, it sends a sort of frantic look to his eye. He steps forward and for once in your life you yield, stepping back.

"That is a damning accusation." You fight to keep the cracking rage from your voice, the small fear that blooms in your belly like poison nightshade. Swallowing thickly he steps forward.

"He, he can't take what's mine. I- I was going to propose today. But that damn Bakugou is always lingering around like toxic gas. Poisoning your mind with his….ambitions." It is then you see red.

How dare anyone thing you were so fucking fragile and innocent some young blonde could corrupt you. Your palm strikes his cheek with enough force that he is facing away from you. You strike again and then as you rear up your fist he pulls you to him. Pressing his whisky soaked lips to yours as he swallows you whole. Mouth extended over your lips, sloppily engulfing you as he makes sounds that make you want to retch. His tongue slides past your lips and you bite.

Not enough that he loses it, although you wish you could afford to do such a thing. But you still lived in a society where a man's word was far more valuable than that of a "whore." Shaking you pull back, so much rage that you do not see the flash of light until it is too late.

"Fucking bitch!" He slashes at your nightgown, cutting the fabric away as you think you've doged, he goes to slash again, "God damn whore!"

His voice echoes through the trees and that scares you more than the knife in his hand, his sloppy demnor creates an opening as you kick him so hard between his legs he falls to the ground, puking up his belly full of liquor onto the moss floor.

Suddenly the summer night is too hot, the frogs and crickets too loud as an owl calls deep within the wood. Thunder roars overhead before the clouds become too heavy. Panic slicks your skin before the pounding rain as you turn to run, hopping you kicked hard enough to rupture something in this cowardly man.

If you lived in any other world, you would have tried your best to seize that knife and plunge it into his chest.

But you didn't, so you ran. Vision blurring as the pain finally catches up to you. Hand instinctively flying to your stomach only to come up wet.

"It's the rain, it's just the rain." You gasp out rushing into the house and shutting the glass paned door as quickly and quietly as you can. Fumbling for a lock before you give up all together, arms outstretched in the dim room looking for a candle or a mirror. Shaking fingers find a match that you light using the wallpaper, uncaring of the risks as you frantically look for a stick of wax. Lighting the wick once you've found one and taking it to the mirror above a small runner table. You set the wax down, close to the glass, thunder shakes the windows and the house as you pull the fabric from your torso. It reveals an angry red slash that weeps crimson, a choked gasp leaves your lips as lightning flashes illuminating the whole room. Still you do not see the reflection of the man in the mirror.

"What happened?" It sounds animalistic as it comes from the corner. Your whirl to face him, pulling the cloth back down to cover your decency. A lie falls from your lips as easy as breath.

"Nothing." Your rasp, feigning embarrassment, "My-my courses have come early. Your Grace this is not something you should witness."

"Do you take me for a fool?" He steps closer, eyes burning in the candle light, "I may not be an expert of female anatomy but I know the basics."

You swallow thickly, trying to jest.

"Then my Lord you are far more experienced than myself. I am bashful to be in the presence of a skilled womanizer. This truly is nothing." He closes the distance, wrapping his deadly hand around your small wrist. Pulling it away from your body.

"That laceration does not look like 'nothing'." He mocks, "I will not ask again."

Silence engulfs you as the storm rages on, it competes with the roaring in your head. Your knees slowly buckle as Shoto keeps you up right. His winter's night by the hearth scent floods your senses.

"I feel a bit faint." Your voice sounds so small, so far away that it stirs something in Todoroki. In the year that he has watched you, he has not once seen your falter or become meek. He makes way to scoop you into your arms and is a mixed of relieved and agitated as you swat him away.

"I-I can walk." You straighten your back, smoothing the reddening fabric over your bodess and for once you're thankful the blasted nightgown is so thick. He gently guides you to your room.

Once there he prepares a basin as you try to sit on the plush bed.

"Aht!" He whispers harshly, "Change."

You relax into the foot of the bed anyway, unable to hold yourself up right any longer. He sucks his teeth, bringing the supplies to the bedside table before searching through your trunk.

"A Lady's things should not just be rummaged through."

"Hmm is that so?" He finds another night gown before he hovers over you, face pinched as he asks, "Can you undress yourself, truthfully?"

Moments pass before you admit that you are not sure that you can with a shake of your head. Slowly he eases you out of the damp fabric, dabbing at your wet skin with a towel. He avoids looking at your breasts and as much as he would love to stare a weeping wound commands his attention. He places the gown just enough to hide your breasts before he lies you down on your back.

"From beginning to end, tell me what happened." When you do not answer he forces your chin to face him, "Tell me, now."

And your name slips off his lips like poisoned honey, a truth serum you swallow whole. You retell the quick exchange, including the damning kiss as you watch rage blister across Shoto's handsome features as he silently begins to work.

"We must prosecute him."

"We must not!" You exclaim as he dabs antiseptic at your wound. He gives your an exasperated

"What would have happened if he had nicked an internal organ?"

"I suppose I would be free of this wretched world." A nonchalant shrug as best as you can manage.a glare cuts your way as his roar turns soft.

"Why would you say such a thing? Do you think no one would mourn the loss of you? Do you think he would not weep at your service?" Shoto touches the bracelet of dancing stars and you pull your wrist back. Tears burning your eyes, you do not allow them to fall.

"He is not up for discussion!" It's a loud whisper before you grip Shoto's jaw with enough force it grinds, "I am more than capable of taking care of myself, Lord. You can take your leave as I do not need a soul."

He melts as he watches the pain flutter in your eyes, a long sigh escapes him as he melts into your touch. His fingers feathering over your forearm.

"Pride is a deadly sin. Allow me to help. I will be quick." Slowly you drop your arm away from him. He digs around in his bag before you change your mind. He disinfects the sutures before he sends the needle through tender flesh, your tears dry as you allow your mind to retreat. Shoto takes quick notice.

"You do that a lot…" He comments softly, pulling the suture through your skin, you glance his way, "You seem to disassociate."

"Well, feelings hurt so it is better to not feel at all." You grind your teeth as he pulls the widest part of your wound together.

"Is that why you push him away so often?" He holds your gaze before returning to his work.

"Did I not tell you that he is not up for discussion. No matter, I do not have feelings for Lord Bakugou." He scoffs at your lie.

"Ah so then it was not you who suggested the Princess in the form of flattery? Lord Bakugou is a smart man but you played into his blind spot, stroking his ego and enticing his ambition." Your gritted teeth say it all.

"And how pray tell would you even guess at such grandor things when you are not in attendance at even half of these events?"

"I am privy to this knowledge because I too keep everyone and everything at arm's length. It is much easier to see the moves when one is far enough away from the board." He dabs at your abdomen, "And you my Lady are by far the best player."

"Flattery does not go far with me." You sigh softly, fingers idly playing with the wrinkles in the sheets, "Father wants me to set a final round."

"Mine wishes for me to begin and end in the same turn." He slowly places your nightgown down, "Which is why we should make an effort to at least get to know one another. With your wound I suggest staying an extra week or two to ensure it closes properly. I can convince our Wardens that the extension is for an attempt to win your hand."

He leans back in his chair, sweat on his brow from fusing with your wound, from worry as it furrows. Your chest tightens and suddenly the urge to be in control sinks its teeth into your skin. Quickly you unclasp the birthday present Lord Katsuki had given you, setting it on the nightstand beside Shoto with dramatic flare. His eyes widen as he reads between the lines, the silent vow of "I will make an effort...for now". The promise seems to pierce his heart.

"Fine. I enjoy picnics, I suggest we do that on the grounds so that we may be chaperoned from afar and yet have privacy. My expectation is unbashful honesty from both parties." You turn over to give him your back as you pull the fine blankets to your shoulders, "Furthermore you must come up with some sort of endearment for me. Anyone who has ever tried to seriously court me has. I have come quite fond of them as titles bore me. Something lovely so give it thought."

Shoto is stunned into silence for a moment before he lets out a dark laugh.

"I see, this is still your game"

"Precisely." You say, he stands, lingering in the doorway before shutting the heavy oak.

It was difficult to sleep to say the least. Still you were grateful to have risen before Rose. Dressing yourself before she could see your wound. More grateful still when Rose set down some tea claiming Lord Shoto sent it.

You downed the scalding liquid in three swallows, surprising Rose, before she passes you a folded note.

Meet me in the back garden for lunch.

-Shoto

A muscle ticks in your jaw as pain blooms across your stomach as you stare at his lovely script.

Shoto hates to admit that the first thing he looks for is that bracelet on your wrist, when he does not see it he lets out his held breath. Drinking in your deep, sapphire dress. It sparkles as if covered in stardust, his heart clenches. He looks towards your stomach, worry etched on his features.

"How are your stitches? No corset right?" He asks, gently guiding you to the plush pillows on the ground. Maybe he should have asked the butler to bring out chairs instead.

"I feel naked without it." You admit, he sees a bit of nervousness you have normally schooled away.

"You look lovely." His eyes are gentle, lips formed in a soft, genuine smile. Your heart tried to skip a beat. It's the heat you tell yourself.

"Flattery will not get you far remember?"

"I'm only being honest, my sweet petunia." You give him a puzzled look, was this going to be his nickname for you? You were not a delicate thing.

"A flower?" You give him a look but his smile does not falter.

"Ah would you rather I say my dew kissed rose? My begonia?"

You both laugh at his last suggestion.

"My sunflower." Your heart stutters, you glance away for just a moment and he takes notice.

"Ah so you approve," He collects a strand of your hair between his fingertips, "Sunflower?"

Heat rushes your cheeks as you fight the smile on your lips. You lose as he kisses your hair. Maybe you could be a delicate thing.

"Did you know sunflowers can remediate soil? It is why they are planted after tobacco is harvested in hopes to use the fields once more." He is quiet as he waits for your admission.

"It is my favorite flower, it is in season now. Alas not one suitor has sent them. Roses and hydrangeas are my favorites too but nothing quite says summer like a sunflower." You sigh, looking over the manicured bushes and flowers in the garden.

"Is that your favorite season?" He is perceptive, you take a moment to breathe in the sweltering breeze with closed eyes. Humming your answer.

"Indeed." You kick off your shoes and place your feet into the grass, leaning back to allow your face in the sun. Not many women would be so open to sitting on only a blanket and with no umbrella or covering. And yet here you were soaking up the sun like a lazy cat. Heat rushes Shoto's cheeks as he realizes just how perfect his name for you is.

"Have you ever had intercourse with a woman?" You ask, eyes still closed as Shoto flushes further. His cheeks are as red as part of his hair.

"Sunflower." He gasps but you giggle.

"Unbashful honesty, remember?" He lets small silence stretch between the two of you before he answers.

"I have. My brother convinced me it was a good idea." His eyes look sad, it makes your gut clench as you look away for a moment. Question burning on your tongue.

"What if I were to say my maiden head was taken?"

"Who am I to judge after I have slept with another. Sadly I know some are stolen." He answers without hesitation.

"This is true. Mine is still intact, I am grateful Monoma had only stolen a kiss." You sigh.

"You'd never kissed anyone?" His tone is curious although his eyes are dark with anger for you.

"I tried to be a proper lady. More so because I do not like to touch people or feel their skin. Touching them makes them real, you know? And when someone is real they can have power over your heart." Shoto mulls over your words and realizes how much he relates. He places his hands near your fingers but does not touch them. You notice the gesture and scoff without the pretension you skillfully lace his fingers with his. Delighted to see the burning blush on his cheeks.

Maybe life with Shoto would not be half bad, if only he gave you more moments like this.

Moments like this last over the two weeks that drag into three. Days are spent beneath the summer sun with exchanged and often heated, intellectual debates. Both of you feeling mentally stimulated for the first time as each of you allowed a few walls to come down, pulling each other closer than arm's length. While a few hours of the night are spent beneath the moon. His gem stone eyes raking over your abdomen in worry but nothing more than his checking on your wound as he was ever the gentlemen.

On Monday of the second week Shoto has come fond of his summer sunflower, so much so he brings a large black box to the next picnic, tucked away in his pocket is a matching, much smaller box. He presents to you the medium sized box as you giggle in delight.

"My Lord, my shining Shoto. What could this be?" Your cheeks hurt from the width of your smile as he opens the box for you to see. Your face flutters into shock before joy returns as you hold out your wrist. Shoto takes the delicate golden bracelet that has several round onyx surrounded by citrine in the shape of petals. Sunflowers dance on your wrist as you twist it this way and that, unable to school your features into your normal distaste for guadry gifts from suitors. But this gift was far from gaudy, only one man before Shoto had earned this reaction. You bring your parasol to hide your face and his from the prying eyes of the manor as you gently press your lips to Shoto's cheeks.

"I love it." You admit. It gives him enough courage to commit to ask you on Friday, the bigger question.

Having you walk for "therapy" through the grounds, pointing over your shoulder to point out phantom ducks on the lake as he nervously sinks to one knee.

"Shoto, love I do not see-" You turn to face him and see his loving eyes, wavering smile and shaking fingers holding open the box that reveals a giant oval ruby surrounded by diamonds. He clears his throat.

"My sunflower," You fling your arms around him, making him fall off balance as you land on top of him. Peppering his face with uncharacteristic kisses as excitement, for once, rushes through your veins like a second blood. He laughs lifting you by your ribs, careful of your slowly closing wound as he spins you before setting you on your feet. He fumbles for the momentarily forgotten ring before he slips it onto your ring finger. He presses a kiss to your cheek, smiling warmly. It reaches his eyes in such a way your gut clenches.

And for a moment you forgot you were ever anyone's starlight.

For one returning to the manor seems almost dreadful and not because of waiting suitors but because you would be without your own. He insisted the two of you be seperate as your mother and his, prepared to arrange the wedding, as you demanded the ceremony to be small. Despite your desire for to keep the engagement quiet for just a week or so, your mother and father took it upon themselves to spread word back home before you could even arrive.

You exit the carriage as the house looks quiet, earning a soft smile. Your ring catches your eye and you remind yourself that this truly was the best possible outcome.

The foyer is covered in flowers, from congratulations to a giant trove of sunflowers on the center table.

You smile at the flowers Shoto must have sent this morning, they sit in a glass globe of a vase, their usually tall stems cut short. Their flower heads are large and vibrant even in the ambient candle light. You finger a petal as you reminisce over the past few weeks, your stomach hardly protesting as you stand on tip toe to look at them all. Relishing the moment of silence before you realize you are most likely home alone. Your brothers lost in some fighting match while your parents took their leave from the Todoroki manor to busy themselves with venues. You figured a change of clothes would do you nicely before you settled down over your much neglected work.

A black nightgown and almost sheer robe clung to your frame as you stepped down the grand staircase, smiling once more at the flowers before slipping into your parlor. Lighting only one other candle by the door before taking yours to your desk. With deft hands you pull out one of your manuscripts and tap along the top with a manicured nail. A sigh leaves your lips, you finger with your bracelet, with the ring on your finger before a fresh page is found on your desk. You write furiously.

About something as trivial as love.

Still the quil seems to move on its own as if enchanted as words dot the parchment in ink. Suddenly your work is disturbed by someone entering your parlor. You assume it is a brother who has come home, glancing up you see locks of ash blonde causing you to grip at your robe to close it tighter. The moment you realize it is just Bakugou your grip on the fabric loosens.

"I wasn't expecting you at this hour." Fear of needing a chaperone barely crosses your mind since it was Lord Bakugou who was your company. You relax into your seat as he crosses the room to sit in his normal seat, on the corner of the couch, closest to you. His posture is poor as he leans his forearms on thick thighs, garnet eyes cast downward, he grips at his own hands as his knuckles turn white. You wonder if he did not heed your letter.

"How did the proposal go with Princess Amelia?" Your voice sounds out over the silence of the room, still he remains quiet. It is unnerving how solemn and silent the normally wolfish man is. Something pulls at the strings of your heart. His eyes seem misty. He keeps them to the ground or so you think, as they rake over the ring on your finger, on the bracelet on your wrist. The onyx and citrine dance in the low light of your burning candle. Bakugou feels a sheen of sweat coat his hands, bile rising in his throat that he has to swallow down.

You think the worst, you think the Princess rejected him but that didn't make sense either. She was so obviously in love with the ambitious man, you heard while away that she even turned down a dance with a forgein prince.

"What's wrong, Katsuki?" The way your voice forms around his name, the way your eyes look with unbiased worry causes Katsuki's limbs to act on their own. In one swift motion he cups your face in his broad hands, bringing his lips to yours so softly. Once the plush of your lips touch his he cannot stop as his hunger for you comes to the forefront. He kisses you with a fervor unmatched as his lips move yours, his hand moves to the back of your neck. Tilting your head so he may deepen the kiss, tongue sliding over yours as the world falls from beneath your feet.

But as quickly as it fell it returns, pushing him away while turning to face away from him. You keep your head held high as he pants on the couch beside you. He grabs your thigh, desperate for touch, for anything but rejection.

"Starlight." His voice is deep, rough from what might be disuse as it cracks on the second syllable. A question runs rampid in your mind. How long had he felt like this?

"Please, my starlight." He squeezes your smooth thigh and you look towards him. Watch his force contort with pain, as if you held his beating heart in his hands and crushed it.

Really it is what he had done to you, as you look down at him with hot tears.

He is the first and only soul to see you cry in decades. It seemingly tears him about but he brought this among himself.

The kiss is answer enough as to why he is here.

It should not be this tempting to throw it all away.

"Get. Out." You seethe, fat droplets catching on your sheer robe, falling down your cheeks as if you were an actress going through a tragic scene. He does not move, does not breathe as he hopes your temper will cool.

Instead it heats.

"Get out, Get OUT. GET OUT GET OUT!!" More composure lost with each increase of volume before you completely lose it, "FUCKING GET OUT!"

He hardly moves and the ruckus calls alarm for your brothers who were home, who let Bakugou in at such a late hour. They come from the office across the hall in hurried steps, expecting to see an assailant, hoping that Bakugou could fight them off.

They silently determine what they see is far worse. Bakugou gripping at your thighs with this pleading look while your face is now firmly buried in your hands. A sob racks through your body setting your brothers ablaze.

Hendrix speaks first.

"What did you do?!" His eyes are flaming as he sets them on Bakugou, who ignores the two men. Hideki begins to close the distance and his eldest brother follows suit.

"What have you done to make my lovely sister cry?" Hideki's voice is full of hurt, disappointment and when they receive no answer they decide it is time to remove your true assailant.

Both grab at Bakugou, pulling him away from the couch as you wet your palms with years worth of tears.

Everything in your life, no matter how hard you tried to conduct it, was truly wrong wasn't it?

The fresh swirling ink on the pages answered you enough, the love story you did not know you needed with a protagonist with soft ash blonde hair.

"Please. Do not make me BEG!" He yells as your brothers' sad attempt at forcing him from the room topples furniture and the like.

Still you weep your self pity away.

His next words are deafening as your heart finally cleaves apart, the pieces falling to the floor before shattering like glass at your feet. He brandishes the black velvet box with the black diamond ring tucked inside as you finally look up to him.

"IT HAS ALWAYS BEEN YOU, STARLIGHT!"

#bakugou x reader #todoroki x reader #bnha historical au #bnha imagine #bnha x reader

1K notes · View notes

oro-e-diamanti · 4 years ago

Text

The one with Victoria’s boobs

Description | Victoria needs help taping her boobs for an upcoming performance. You get more than you bargained for.

Content | fluff

Pairing | Victoria x gn!Reader

Word Count | 2420

Some situations in life simply could not be dealt with without a strong cup of coffee. Heading out to an exam, waking up to a text from that ex who still grinds your gears, missing your train, and being late for work ... You, however, thought you were doing fine today, mood high and excited for the day ahead. You had slept in and left the hotel at a reasonable time. You’d do what you loved - make-up - and then watch the band play a kickass show. No additional kick needed to pump you up or help you deal with the hours ahead. You changed your mind the second you opened the dressing room door and came face to face with Victoria's tits. Actually - scratch that - you would need a drink to deal with this.

"Y/n! Finally! I need you, come here." While Victoria's face brightened up considerably as her eyes met yours, a smile spreading on her gorgeous lips, you could feel your cheeks heating up. She didn't seem to notice or mind, instead grabbing your hand and dragging you further into the room. Your bag slid off your shoulder, unceremoniously hitting the ground and staying there, forgotten and in the way. "If Damiano keeps ripping off the tape one more time to readjust, he's going to take my nipple off."

"Hey!" He objected. "I'm just trying to improve your boobs, lady!"

"You can't improve perfection, Damiano."

The bickering gave you a moment to evaluate the scene before you. The dressing room was a mess, clothes everywhere and a stylist bustling around, trying to keep the damage to a minimum. Ethan was currently admiring his reflection in the mirror, hands running through his hair, while Thomas kept rummaging around the chaos. And right before your eyes, Victoria, in satin trousers but topless, with Damiano still trying to fix the cross he had put across her left nipple, as Vic kept slapping his hand away.

"Honestly, babe, I need you," she pleaded as your eyes managed to remove themselves from her bare chest and met hers instead. "I can't do it myself because when I try to do it in the mirror it looks weird when I put my arms down. And Damiano just about managed one cross that doesn't look wonky as hell after about 43 attempts."

"I did not need 43 attempts! I was just trying to -"

"Stop it!" Vic slapped his hand away once more, harshly enough for the sound to echo. "Go gel your hair or something, I've got Y/n now."

"I'm your make-up artist, not -" You didn't quite know how to finish your sentence. You weren't what? Victoria's personal boob inspector? Professional nipple-taper?

"Exactly, which means you've got an eye for aesthetic, so please put this tape on me."

You couldn't refuse Vic either way. Not when she was staring at you with those impossibly blue eyes, silently begging for your help. With a sigh, you grabbed the tape out of her hand, slowly unrolling a bit. You had only known her for a little while, but well enough to be aware that she wouldn't back down. Vic was already reaching for a pair of scissors, but you were quicker, tearing the piece of tape off with your teeth.

"Sexy, but scary," Victoria concluded. "But mainly sexy."

You didn't have the mental capacity to deal with what she had just said. Actually, you didn't have the capacity to deal with what you were about to do, but that was a pill you'd simply have to swallow. You hoped your shaky fingers weren't giving you away, as you crouched to eye-level with Vic's boob.

You had never much thought about the feminine beauty of a naked woman's chest before, but your current angle was making you question all your past convictions.

Maybe you were into girls after all.

Maybe you were just into Victoria. It was a thought that had been lingering in the back of your mind for a while now.

As your fingers lightly touched her skin, careful to get the placement just right, she flinched. You looked up, gazes meeting, and for a second there was something in her eyes you couldn't quite pinpoint, but it was gone before you had a chance to reflect on it. Instead, she giggled, "It's way too hot for your hands to be this cold."

Way too hot indeed.

You tried to make quick work of the task ahead and not to stare at her breasts too intently. Not to touch her soft skin too obviously. Not to let your beating heart get the better of you.

"I knew you'd get it perfectly!" Victoria exclaimed, turning towards the mirror and examining her now partly covered boobs. "You just got that kind of eye, Y/n. Thank you so much."

She had thrown her arms around you before you could react. It shouldn't have come as much of a surprise, Vic always being a rather touchy person by nature, but this time she was half-naked, her chest pressed against your shirt. Your arms carefully wrapped around her back, briefly letting yourself enjoy the feeling of silk-like skin under your fingertips, then quickly letting go and taking a step back. Your heart had gone from beating to straight-up racing. You were in so much trouble.

"I'll just put on the rest of my outfit and then you can do my make-up, yeah?" Her eyes shone at you in gradients you hadn't seen before. All you could do was nod dumbly, knowing that nothing was ever going to be the same again.

***

You hadn't meant to go out drinking with the band, you really really hadn't, yet here you were, sitting in a dark corner of some trendy bar in the middle of Berlin, trying to duck out of every video they filmed for Instagram and sipping on your drink. The mood was euphoric and everyone kept singing along to the songs playing in the background, but you kept to yourself. Your mind was still spinning with images of Victoria, memories of her skin on yours, and the fact that she was standing in front of you right now didn’t help. She was beauty personified.

“Y/n! Dance with me!” Victoria pulled you out of my thoughts as she pulled you up into a standing position.

“Vic, no one is dancing in this bar.”

“So?”

She had never been much impressed with what other people were doing. You quickly downed the rest of your drink, handing the glass to Damiano, who sent you a conspicuous wink. Whatever that was supposed to mean. You were still standing a little awkwardly when Victoria took your hand and twirled you around, a heavy slap to the bum hitting you while your back was towards her.

“Come on, Y/n, let loose!”

The shock of her actions only lasted a split second, before you broke out into giggles and let her pull you further into her. Her arms wrapped around your neck, trying to move you to a beat that was much too fast to be this close and entangled. You didn’t mind. Hell, you decided, you would never mind anything she did to you ever again. You didn’t even take notice of Damiano, Ethan, and Thomas dancing along around you, too focused on the way Vic was holding you and pressing you against herself. You couldn’t tell anymore if the elation you were feeling was because of the drink you’ve had or because she was looking at you the way she was. In the heat of the moment, you pushed a strand of her from her face, fingers lightly trailing along her cheek. Her mouth was on yours in an instant, pressing a bold kiss against your lips, but it was over before it started and suddenly her body wasn’t pushed up against yours anymore and you felt lost and cold. Victoria was now slinging her arms around Thomas’ neck instead, leaving a similar kiss on him, before giving Ethan and Damiano the same treatment.

Your heart couldn’t decide if it wanted to keep beating or start breaking.

***

The next days were pure torture. It didn’t help that Victoria had developed a newfound love for going bra-less - and an appreciation for you taping her up. Her behaviour wasn’t much better. You bent over to pick something up? Slap on the butt. She walked by you? No way she wasn’t going to brush past you in some way. Sitting on the couch? She was cuddled up to you in a heartbeat, face mushed into your neck, her breath softly tickling your skin.

Pure torture.

It all came crashing down the night Victoria decided to shake up the hotel room arrangement. She would usually room with Damiano, while you shared with other members of the team that worked behind the scenes. Until you were all gathered in the lobby of your hotel for the night and she loudly announced she was sick of listening to Damiano snore every night - “What the hell, I’ve never snored in my life?!” - and instead was going to sleep with you. Sleep with you. You didn’t miss the looks and snickers of the others as she phrased it exactly like that.

You didn’t have a choice, really. You simply weren’t the type of person to protest - and Vic knew. So you followed her up in the elevator, down the corridor, and into the room like a lovesick puppy, internally debating whether you were dreading this or looking forward to it. As soon as you had both dropped your luggage, she disappeared into the bathroom without another word. You didn’t miss the fact that she did not even attempt to close the door.

Two single beds. You breathed a sigh of relief. No awkward there-was-only-one-bed situation. Or maybe you felt a bit of disappointment. Maybe- No. This needed to stop. You were going crazy. You were supposed to do a job on this promo tour, be professional, maybe make friends with the band if you were lucky, but instead, you were falling deeper and deeper and it all ended with the fact that you had never felt this way about anyone else. It pained you to think that Victoria wasn’t feeling the same. And she definitely wasn’t - you were sure of that. She was a flirty person, she liked to touch and kiss those around her, but none of it went deeper than that. And you were going to have to accept it for what it was.

You were still in the middle of convincing yourself of not feeling anything more than friendship for Victoria when she emerged from the bathroom. Wearing nothing but a pair of panties. It was in that moment you knew you would never get over her.

“VIc, you need to stop doing this.”

Her face fell immediately, going from overly cheeky - which seemed to be her default expression these days - to genuinely concerned. Concerned, and confused. She was by your side in an instant, holding you by your upper arms, seemingly searching your face for answers.

“Do what?”

The direct question was filled with a softness that almost brought tears to your eyes. For a second you contemplated taking it back, changing the topic, and ignoring how emotionally draining the past days had been, but one look into her eyes told you that you needed to be honest with her. Now or never.

“You need to stop touching me. You need to stop riling me up at every opportunity, you need to stop teasing me and brushing up against me because-” The words seemed trapped in your throat. Victoria had moved away, immediately adhering to your request to stop touching you and you hated it. You wanted her hands back on you, you wanted all of her on you. One more deep breath. “Because I cannot stop thinking about kissing you. And I’m not talking about a little friendly peck. I’m talking about kissing the ever-loving shit out of you now and forever.”

It happened so fast. Victoria was on you before you had even finished your last words, lips pressed to yours in a heated and hurried manner, arms wrapping around you to press her body against yours. You reacted as if on autopilot, as if your body knew what to do simply because it had been waiting for it. Your hands tangled themselves in her hair as you responded eagerly to her kiss, before running them down her cheeks and to her neck.

This was nothing like the time she kissed you in the bar in Berlin. That time didn’t even come close to what was happening now. If your heart had been beating before, it was pounding out of your chest now. You thought that for as long as she promised to put her mouth on yours anytime you asked, you would be invincible.

The kiss ended rather slowly. A few pecks and staying close, breath fanning on each other’s faces, eyes still shut for a while until you two managed to separate. Victoria’s smirk was back, tenfold and you couldn’t help but giggle.

“Imagined anything like that?”

“You know I did,” you admitted, feeling slightly shy all of a sudden.

“Honestly, though,” Vic said, brushing your hair from your face in the most tender motion. “I’m sorry I put you in a weird position. I think my way of flirting just didn’t work on you.”

“Oh, it worked alright,” you laughed. “I just wasn’t sure you meant it that way. Especially when you kissed me that night and then proceeded to kiss everyone.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t clever. I think I was just scared because you didn’t react so I tried to play it off.”

Victoria pushed another kiss onto your lips, sweet and short and full of reassurance, then promptly hugging you with a force that sent both of you tumbling onto one of the beds. Laughing with all your heart, you pushed her off you but made sure she never strayed too far. You couldn’t help but be amused at the state you were both in, faces heated up and giggly, you fully clothed while Victoria was still lounging in nothing but a pair of black panties.

“For God’s sake, Victoria put some clothes on,” you mocked her, even though you both knew there was no reason for you to mind it anymore.

“You know, I think it’s quite fitting,” she contemplated instead. “It started and ended with my boobs out.”

#maneskin #victoria de angelis #maneskin imagine #maneskin fiction #victoria de angelis x reader #victoria de angelis x you #maneskin x reader #maneskin x you #victoria de angelis fiction #victoria de angelis imagine #my writings

890 notes · View notes

oreoambitions · 3 years ago

Note

46 for agentreign please

Anon I'm sorry this took me a thousand years, but here you go. This gets wildly NSFW after the cut. Enjoy!

/// The first time it happens, Alex figures it's a fluke.

There are, after all, extenuating circumstances. She's not sure how many glasses of wine she's had because every time she turns around Sam has topped her off again, and maybe she should stop indulging but the wine is good and the company is better and this is the first day off off she's had for so long that it's hard not to let go a little. Kara's been keeping the showtunes coming all afternoon, a little louder than her old bluetooth speaker can really handle but it doesn't matter because Spotify is really just an excuse for Kara and Sam to sing at the top of their lungs. Alex is not participating, but she is appreciating. Appreciating because it's nice to see her sister laugh and smile like maybe things are getting better and maybe things are going to be okay. And also appreciating because, well, Sam. It's hard not to appreciate anything and everything Sam.

The activity of the afternoon is ostensibly the production of baked goods for a fundraiser related to Ruby's soccer team. Alex says 'ostensibly' because the reality is that it's been more than three hours and they haven't gotten the first batch of cookies into the oven yet. There's flour all over the floor, and she's pretty sure Kara got butter stuck to ceiling before Sam took the mixer away, but sometimes that's just the cost of a slightly raucous afternoon well spent, isn't it? And they'll have it all done in time anyway. In fact, Sam is just now finishing up the first batch of cookie dough in the confiscated kitchen aid when Alex, perhaps inebriated or perhaps just feeling emboldened by the domestic comfort of the whole affair, lunges for the beater.

This, it turns out, is either a mistake or the best decision she's ever made in her life. Her hand does contact the beater. She does come within a few seconds of pure raw cookie dough bliss. But Sam is faster, and in a flash Alex finds herself pinned between the counter and Sam's hips, one wrist wrapped up in Sam's fingers, the beater now soundly out of reach in Sam's other hand.

"Mine," Sam growls, but her eyes have dropped to Alex's mouth and for one disorienting moment Alex thinks she might be about to kiss her, thinks maybe the word 'mine' has nothing to do with the beater at all, that maybe they've crossed into some alternate dimension where there's a future for her and Sam that doesn't involve a lot of politely smiling and politely never mentioning one another's romantic entanglements or the absence thereof.

And the thing is, Alex thinks to herself, contemplating the heat of Sam's gaze and the fact that she literally cannot move beneath Sam's hips, this is... attractive. This is very attractive, in an immediate and throbbing sort of way that would be frankly embarrassing approximately half a glass of wine earlier in the afternoon. But that can't be right, because Alex doesn't like to be pushed around. Alex is the one who does the pushing. Isn't she? Sam's grip tightens around her wrist and Alex's lips part of their own accord and-

"Oh for heaven's sake," Kara says, snatching the beater out of Sam's hand. "It's mine, because you two are both being ridiculous." She rolls her eyes. "I hate being the only adult in the room."

It was a fluke. That's what Alex thinks to herself later that night when she wakes with a start from a just-dozing-off dream featuring the immovable nature of Sam's hips. They were drinking and it was a long afternoon and everyone was a little wound up and a little giddy and Alex has been single for a long time. That's it. That's all it was. That's all it has to be.

///

It's harder to write it off as a fluke the second time, but she manages.

James is in town and so it's game night. Not their monthly game night as scheduled, but an extra at-the-last-second game night, and Alex is on call. Which is fine. She can count on her fingers the number of times she's had to handle something in the middle of the night while on call for the DEO, and she's not particularly worried. But it's a problem because she can't be drinking, which means she's sober when Sam corners her in the kitchen.

It's been a long night. Not in a bad way. Just in the sense that things have been a little more risque than usual, what with Nia falling over herself trying to make it clear to Brainy that she'd like to sleep with him without actually making it clear, and Lena shooting those long smoldering looks at a characteristically oblivious Kara, and then there's Sam. Alex can't stop looking at Sam in that shirt where it sits a little too tight across the shoulders, can't stop tracing the line of that necklace to the place where it disappears just below her collar, can't stop following the meaningless movement of her fingers as she absently fiddles with a beer that wouldn't have an effect on her even if she drank the whole case. She wonders idly if it's for the aesthetic or if Sam just likes the taste of a craft IPA.

The trouble is that every time Alex catches herself looking at Sam, she also catches Sam looking at her. And so, upon dragging her eyes up once more from Sam's fingers to find Sam staring back at her, eyes dark and expression unreadable, Alex decides it's time for a drink after all. One beer won't hurt, even if the world decides to consider coming to an abrupt conclusion in the next hour or so and it turns out to be her responsibility. It's just that her mouth is suddenly dry, and the room is suddenly too loud, and she needs something to roll between her fingers the way Sam is rolling that IPA back and forth and back and forth and- Yeah. Just one beer will be fine.

She slips into the kitchen while Nia is yelling about how they should all do a TikTok together. It's quieter here, and a cool breeze through the window over the sink raises goosebumps across her arms. She pops the fridge open, pulls a beer at random, leans up against the counter. Maybe she doesn't want a drink after all. Maybe she just needs a minute.

"Aren't you on call, Ms. Danvers?"

Sam. Alex pouts. "What are you, the party police?"

Sam steps up close, takes the beer from Alex without so much as looking at it. "Aren't you the alien invader police?"

That's a dumb line and it doesn't remotely reflect Alex's actual job description, but she laughs anyway. "It's just one beer. Like 4%. I can handle it."

"I know," Sam murmurs.

Alex thinks she's forgotten how to breathe. Sam's eyes are on her mouth and those hips are pressing into her again and when Sam slips one arm around her waist and one hand into her hair a sound comes out of her that might have been a whimper. There's an inevitability to the way Sam leans in, to the way Alex's lips part as Sam tilts her head back with a firm tug. There's a moment of hesitation, a lingering, an opportunity to say no. Instead, Alex whispers, "Please."

Sam obliges. She kisses her slow, languid almost, holds her firm against the counter as she licks into her mouth and Alex is thinking that maybe she's going to come right here just letting Sam kiss her like this when Sam presses a thigh between her legs and she gasps, grinds down hard without meaning to.

Sam chuckles into her mouth, drags one hand around to her throat, traces feather light kisses along her jaw, tugs on her earlobe with her teeth. "Good girl," she whispers.

Alex isn't sure if it's the heat of Sam's breath, or the praise, or the way she's been casually immobilized, but she shudders, and Sam chuckles again, lips against her ear, and that only makes it worse.

"Fuck," Sam says. "If I had my strap with me I'd rail you right here."

Alex is pretty sure that would kill her. She's pretty sure just the thought of it is going to kill her. Just the pad of Sam's thumb dragging across her throat as she kisses her again, just the roll of those hips, that thigh pressing hard into her, that deep ache coiling tighter as Sam pulls back just far enough to meet her eyes and-

"Hey, Nia wants- Oh!" Lena stops short just inside the kitchen door. "I'll just." She plucks a bottle of wine from the counter. "Take this and tell her that you've uhm. That you're busy."

"We'll be right there," Sam says. She straightens Alex's shirt with a tug and a smirk. "Wouldn't want to miss the TikTok dance."

"Nope," Alex chokes out. "Wouldn't want to miss that."

It's a fluke. Alex takes a long shower when she gets home, and she takes care of the lingering ache that's now outlived not one but two TikTok dances, and she thinks about texting Sam. She falls asleep with her phone in her hand and if she has dreams about a tall, handsome, strong woman railing her against a kitchen counter, well. That happens sometimes. Could happen to anyone. Doesn't mean anything except that Alex has been single for probably too long . She downloads Hinge in the morning and considers explicitly mentioning in her bio that she's the one who wears the strap.

///

The Hinge profile lasts about three days. Alex scrolls through a ridiculous number of women, all of whom are... fine, before she comes to the conclusion that the problem is that none of them are Sam. She's sitting on this stupid app pedaling her stupid profile and all she wants is the woman whose attention prompted her to download a dating app in the first place. And she can't want Sam because it would never work. They're fundamentally incompatible. This bedroom ain't big enough for two tops. It's not going to happen.

But the words if I had my strap with me I'd rail you right here are as stuck in Alex's head as that Lady Gaga song Brainy won't stop playing over the speakers at the DEO. She can't stop thinking about it. Picturing it, even. Dreaming about it when her mind should be anywhere else, on anything else. And she'd just avoid Sam, just look the other way until her hormones sort themselves out, except that Sam is virtually impossible to avoid.

Kara doesn't make it any easier when she calls on Friday night to ask her about a movie night at Sam's apartment.

"Ruby's on a school trip, so it'll be just the four of us," Kara says over the phone. "I'll bring snacks, and we can order whatever you want for dinner. Please? Lena's never seen Star Wars; we have to do something."

Alex doesn't know how to say no. No, I won't come to what feels suspiciously like a double date movie night at Sam's apartment, because Sam's strap is at Sam's apartment, and I'm not sure that she isn't going to try to fuck me on the bathroom floor, and furthermore, I'm not sure that I don't want her to. Instead she says, "Any Star Wars? That's a crime. Which movie are we starting with?"

It's probably a safe bet anyway. Kara and Lena will be there the whole time; Alex and Sam will never be alone. All Alex has to do is make sure that she leaves when everyone else does and they can avoid the awkwardness altogether, and no that is definitely not anticipation she's feeling in the pit of her stomach, and she certainly does not spend an extra half an hour in bed on Saturday morning keeping herself busy with the thought of offering to stay and help clean up, of finding herself pinned against the refrigerator door while Sam takes her from behind. That absolutely does not happen because that would be ridiculous, undignified, untoplike behavior.

Alex is certainly feeling ridiculous, undignified, and untoplike standing outside Sam's door that evening, anxiously smoothing out her shirt with one hand, a case of that IPA from game night in the other. She's arrived a carefully calculated fifteen minutes late just to be absolutely sure Kara and Lena will get here first, but she didn't spot Kara's car outside, and so she isn't particularly surprised when Sam opens the door with a warm smile and welcomes her into an empty apartment.

"Kara and Lena?" she asks as Sam takes the proffered beer.

"Lena got held up at the office," Sam replies, already disappearing into the kitchen. "They're running late. An hour or so. Told them we'd wait. Do you prefer an IPA or a lager? I don't have any stouts in the fridge right now. Might be a decent sour in here somewhere."

Alex lingers in the entryway, that not-anticipation feeling thrumming through her veins. She could follow Sam to the kitchen. Kitchens do seem to be their Thing. But Sam returns with two lagers, her question unanswered, and nods her head towards the living room.

Well, now they're alone together after all and Alex is feeling awkward. She settles onto one end of the couch and tries not to read into it when Sam deposits the lagers on the coffee table and settles in next to her, legs folded under her, almost too close, instead of occupying the perfectly good cushion on the other end.

"Sam," Alex tries. They should talk about this. "We should talk about this."

"Hmm." A hint of a smirk flickers across soft lips before Sam schools her expression. "Talk about what, exactly?"

If Alex had bothered to rehearse this conversation in her mind, she still wouldn't have imagined it going this way. Her eyes drop to Sam's mouth and then she struggles to look elsewhere. The records on the shelf under the window. The blank television screen.

"I-" she starts, but the words don't want to come out. The lager on the coffee table. She doesn't reach for it. "I can't stop thinking about game night," she forces out, and then she looks back up at Sam to gauge her reaction.

Sam is smirking openly now, a hint of laughter in her eyes. She reaches out to tangle long fingers in the hair at Alex's nape, the same grip she used to pull her into a kiss just last week, and Alex's arousal is embarrassingly immediate. "Really?" Sam asks. "Game night, huh? You want to know what I can't stop thinking about?"

It's Alex's gaze that drops first, to Sam's mouth again, and this time she can't look away. "What?"

"Tonight," Sam replies, close enough that Alex's eyes flutter closed, close enough that she can almost feel Sam's answer on her lips. There's probably a coy response for this somewhere in the lesbian handbook but Alex is reaching and coming up empty. She presses a soft kiss to Sam's mouth instead and feels that anticipation - there's no denying now that it's anticipation - thrum again when Sam's tongue immediately presses into her, hot and demanding.

"What's so special about tonight," Alex mumbles as Sam kisses along her jaw to her neck.

"Mmm." Sam nips hard against Alex's pulse point, smiles into her skin when she gasps. "Well, that depends."

"On what?"

"Take your shirt off."

Alex hesitates. That isn't remotely the answer to her question, but now Sam is sucking on her neck and her capacity for rational thought is rapidly diminishing. She fumbles with the first shirt button, fingers trembling, and then the second. Three undone is enough for Sam to pull the offending garment over her head. The sports bra follows, and then Sam is tugging on Alex's hips to reposition her so that she's lying back on the couch, and Alex suddenly understands what everyone finds so attractive about kryptonians, because it's effortless the way Sam moves her. She has about a half second to be transfixed by the abs peeking out from under Sam's own blouse before Sam is kissing down her collarbone and over her breast, chuckling when Alex's hips jerk underneath her.

"You know," Sam says, "I was expecting more of a fight out of Alex But-I'm-A-Top Danvers."

Alex opens her mouth to let out a retort but Sam's tongue is working a circle around her nipple and rational thought is once again threatening to fail. "Is that what you want?" She manages, struggling to sit up. "You want a fight?"

"No." Sam pushes her back again, pins her arms over her head with one hand, brushes the fingers of the other across her ribs, frowns. "No, I like you better like this."

Alex flushes and has to remind herself not to squirm, not to look away as Sam studies her in silence, drops kisses across her shoulders, traces the lines of her hip and the inside of her thigh. And then Sam reaches under the couch for a box, the implications of which are momentarily as immobilizing as the hand still holding Alex's wrists down, because Sam planned for this, planned far enough in advance to stash supplies where they might be convenient.

Alex swallows hard when Sam's pants exit the scenario, and Sam's eyes flicker over her face as she opens the box.

"How do you feel about being strapped on the couch?" she asks.

It's such a blunt question that Alex flushes again. "Uhm. Okay?"

Sam stops with her harness halfway out. "Just okay? I'm gonna need a clear yes or-"

"Yes. God. Yes please," Alex says, flushing an even darker shade. She's going to let... this... happen, but she's not going to beg. Christ. Consent granted; please let's move on before things get awkward. Sam chuckles a little at her discomfort and presses a kiss to her brow.

"Okay. But if you want me to stop you just say the word."

Alex nods, not trusting herself to speak, eyeing Sam's fingers where they're tightening the harness. And then all at once she blurts out, "Kara and Lena could be here at any moment," which she hadn't realized might be a concern until it came out of her mouth but now she can't stop thinking about it, and how embarrassing that would be, and Kara can see through walls for heaven's sake, and-

Sam chuckles. "Baby," she says, sliding herself between Alex's legs, "You're not going to last long enough to be worried about that."

Sam is embarrassingly, excruciatingly not wrong. By the time the strap is working into her Alex is pretty sure she's wound tighter than she's ever been, and she'd crack some kind of joke about how it's clearly been too long since she's had anyone inside of her but this is really not the time. Sam is pressing inexorably deeper and it's all she can do to hold her breath because otherwise she's going to come altogether undone before they've even gotten started.

Sam gives her a moment when she's all inside, waits for Alex to exhale, waits for her nod before she starts to rock her hips, and the drag of the strap is so intense that Alex loses her breath and her self control in the same instant with a groan that only deepens Sam's smirk. Alex is kind of wishing Sam would give her back the use of her hands, but that's not in the cards. She squirms instead, hips bucking of their own accord, head thrown back hard against the cushion of the couch.

"Thought about this every night," Sam murmurs, and Alex thinks she'll say since game night but she says, "Since the day I met you," which is almost as mindblowing as the pleasure somehow, incredibly, continuing to build between Alex's hips. "Thought about how good you'd be under me."

Alex shivers at that and then comes, bucking hard into Sam to take as much of the strap as she can, half aware of Sam whispering something in her ear that might have been what a good girl you are if Alex had been cognizant enough to comprehend it. She comes back down to soft kisses across her face, and when Sam lets go of her wrists she wraps her arms around her and tries to remember how to breathe, how to pull all the pieces of herself back together, how to be a competent and capable, dignified and toplike partner.

Alex runs a hand absently through Sam's hair and hums. "Do you want me to return the favor?" she asks. She doesn't have a strap with her but, well, it's not like that was ever the best trick up her sleeve anyway. She opens her mouth to make a quip about how a good top is always prepared but Sam reaches out and casually tips an untouched lager onto her discarded shirt.

Alex splutters.

"Too late," Sam says brightly. "You'll have to ask me after dinner. Lena and Kara are here."

"Lena and Kara are what-"

And there's the knock at the door. The door not ten paces from where Alex is lying in a state of naked disarray on the couch where they are supposed to be watching Star Wars. There is a moment of absolute stillness before Alex begins to scramble for her clothes.

"Bedroom is the second door on the left," Sam says, sneaking in a last kiss while Alex reaches for the underpants peeking out from under the coffee table. "Clean shirts in closet. Do pick something nice; I've been dying to see you in my clothes."

Alex scurries down the hall in her socks quietly cursing and thanking every star in the sky. It's going to be a long night. If she's lucky.

#Alex Danvers #Sam Arias #agentreign #Ask Pile

149 notes · View notes

drakenology · 4 years ago

Text

𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 - 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: smut, slight obsession, stalking?, yandere!reader, bakugo’s a fuck boy, kirishima’s his himbo roommate, mentions of drugs and alcohol use, & obsessive acts. reader is creepy and insane.

𝐀/𝐍: welcome to my first chaptered series! I really hope you guys enjoy this, seriously I have so many plans for this series. you guys may think this is pretty mild rn but remember... this is only the first chapter. feedback is welcome! please don’t be shy!

𝐓𝐀𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @quaranweeb & @vilbabywritess (wanna be tagged? reply to this post!)

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1.8k

ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP!

“Officials are looking for a woman who goes by the name of Y/N L/N as they are a prime suspect of the murder of-“

When you moved to Japan you never expected to fall for someone. No, not this hard. You remember the day you saw him last summer when you arrived, working with a tall red-head on a car in front of his house. They were on break it seemed as they passed each other a blunt to share, the blonde one leaning back against the hood as he took a drag. You saw him tilt his head up to greet a girl as she walked by, a smirk written across his lips as he waved to her.

The red-head waved to her in comradery, his smile warm and inviting. He was handsome, sure. But he couldn’t possibly compare to the blonde one. You watched from the window of your bedroom as they put out the blunt and continued their work, observing the way the blonde stranger held his wrench. His tanned skin glows under the heated sun, moaning at the sight of his sweat glistening off his building muscles. His blonde hair seemed to shine just like the sun that reflected upon it, noticing the way your heart slammed against your chest the longer you stared at him. He was beautiful. Like a breath of fresh air. Like as if just watching him through your window gave your body a pick me up. You had to know him. Had to smell him. Had to have him. You grab your keys and lock up your home, acting as if you’re just in the neighborhood and not a person who lives two doors from him that was watching him from her window. You pull down your tank top, pushing up your breasts to ensure you nab his attention as you walk by. You almost trip on your shoe laces when you hear his gruff voice up close, a feeling in your core set ablaze when you hear him call you over.

“Oi. Where you headed, sexy?” He asked, nudging his redhead buddy as if to tell him to watch and learn. You bite your lip before turning to him, putting up a front like he doesn’t make you nervous.

“Just passing by. I like walking in this weather.” You lie, feeling your forehead perspire as he turns around to grab his phone from his tool box. He strolls over to you with swagger in his steps, taking your breath away a second time as you realize he’s about to be up close and personal. Your eyes sprout visible hearts in your irises, looking up at him with a love sick gaze that causes him to smirk.

“Name’s Katsuki. What’s yours?” He asked, reaching his big hand out for you to shake. Katsuki. It was like a song when you said it aloud.

“Y/N… it’s nice to meet you.” You say, flustered; nearly dropping to the ground when he lifts your hand to kiss it. This feeling. It had to be what it felt like to be electrocuted -- like someone just took a defibrillator to your chest and made you feel alive. He hands you his phone with a smirk.

“Maybe we could get to know each other better? ‘M havin’ a party at my place. My roommate Kirishima’s still in college and he’s inviting his frat losers over for beers. It’d be nice to have a pretty girl like you to show off.” He says smoothly, the sound of his voice like a hymn to your ears.

“I’d like that..” You say, nodding, taking his phone to put in your phone number. You save your contact under your name, adding a few cute emojis before you hand him his phone.

“Oi, shitty hair! I’ve got a date to the party tonight. Catch up loser.” He says, turning to Kirishima to flip him the bird; Kirishima flipping him off back. “See you tonight? You’d better be there.” He winks, walking back over to the curb to finish fixing his car with his roommate. The redhead smiles at you and waves goodbye.

“Nice to meet you! Hope you come out tonight. Bakugo’s been slackin’ with the ladies.” He teased, Bakugo shooting him a glare as he threw a towel at his chest. You giggle, walking away with a shy wave. Looping back around the block, you arrive home; holding the hand he kissed against your face with a sigh. You didn’t wash that hand all day. It was like you could still feel his plush lips on your skin even hours after he kissed it. It was like a drug and you needed another fix.

You hear crickets chirping from the grass as you knock on his door, standing with a hot container of nachos for the party to make a good impression. The door swings open, your heart dropping when you only see Kirishima.

“Y/N! You made it! Come on in.” He chimes, taking the nachos from you and leading you inside. He leads you to Bakugo who’s playing beer pong with a few friends, not even noticing that you’re standing across the room.

“Yo, Bakugo! Our new neighbor’s here.” Kirishima beckoned, his mouth full of nachos as he turned to go to the other room with his other friends. After hearing his loud outburst and completely missing his shot because of it, he groaned and walked over to you.

“Glad you showed up. You would’ve made me look like a loser if you didn’t show up.” He teased, wrapping his arm around your waist to lead you over to the couch. The night started smoothly, drinking flowing and laughs shared as you both got to know each other.

“So you moved here a week ago. What brings you here?” He asked, sipping his beer. He doesn’t need to know the exact reason as to why you wandered here. Truth is, you’ve done some dark things in your past; things you don’t exactly regret no matter how gruesome.

“I just… love Japan.” You lie, your mind flashing to blood on your hands -- a blade clutched within your fingertips. You blink a few times when Bakugo turns away to greet a friend, trying to shake your flashback. Bakugo turns over to you, his eyes locked on your cleavage as he leans in close to you.

“Wanna go upstairs?” He asks randomly, tilting your chin up to his face and kissing your lips just about as randomly as that question. It didn’t make any sense how much control this man has over your thoughts -- over your body. Before you knew it you were upstairs in his room parting your thighs for him, feeling him deep inside your soaked cunt. It felt as if every thrust of his hips tugged at your heart strings, falling deeper in love -- yes in love.

Bakugo may just be using you for a quick fuck, but fine by you. As long as you can smell him, feel him, taste him; it didn’t matter. Or maybe it did. Maybe the sight of Bakugo with another woman would drive you mad. Maybe he was meant to be yours and he just didn’t know how much he loves you yet. You’ll show him, but for now you just claw at his back as his hips snap in harsh thrusts.

“Like that? Huh, slut?” He slurred in your ear, taking your breasts into his hands and squeezing tightly. You moan out in response, feeling your soul combine with his with every glide of his cock against your slick walls. His mean words sound like a love poem to you, relishing in his demeaning tone as he fucked your thoughts right out of your head. At this point you’re soaking, hearing your own wetness squelch when you cream around him. A knot forms in your stomach, whining when you feel him hitting your spongy spot with sloppy slaps of skin to skin.

“U-Uuhh, fuck, Y/N.” He moaned when he felt you get tighter, moving faster to get you both to the finish line of pleasure. The sound only drove you into euphoria, wanting to hear him moan your name for the rest of your life.

“‘M yours, Katsu. Anything you want. I’ll do anything to make you feel good. Anythin’ for you.” You plea, Bakugo groaning in response. It almost sounded endearing but being as you had only just met today and you’re this devoted to pleasing him is a little weird. Still, the thought of someone as hot as you at his every beck and call whenever he felt an ache in his cock sounded amazing.

“Dirty little slut. So desperate for my cock, aren’t you?” He grunts. His lips latch onto your swollen nipples, running his tongue over it to cause chills to run up and down your spine.

The knot in your stomach snaps as your mind blurs, only feeling an intense sensation of pleasure when you feel him cum in thick ropes inside you. Bakugo’s head hangs back as his hips ride out your highs, groaning as he looks at your fucked out state.

“Good, huh? Shiit.” He groaned, pulling his softening cock out of your used pussy. You whine at the loss, feeling like he just pulled out a piece of your heart with his dick. The careless and sloppy act of him wiping his cum from your thighs was the most romantic act of kindness you’d ever received, looking at him like a love sick puppy as he tossed the soiled towel into his hamper. After flopping into bed next to you, he was out like a light as he lay on his stomach. He let you stay there that night. In his room. The place he lives most of his day. A sudden rush of adrenaline surges through your body as you carefully climb out of bed, creeping around his room to look at all his stuff. You find his closet and steal a hoodie or two, moaning softly when you catch his scent still engraved in the fabric.

You fall to the floor as you inhale the faint scent of his cologne, nearly orgasming a second time that night as you writhe on the floor. Staring at the ceiling, you ponder about your potential life with Katsuki; even though you haven't even known him for 24 hours yet. What if you get pregnant from having sex with him tonight? Wouldn’t that just be wonderful? He’d be yours forever. No one could ever come between you.

You loved Katsuki, loved him. He doesn’t know he loves you yet, you thought. Having sex with him seemed to link you to him forever. This drunken hook up was destiny -- hell it was fate. You can’t wait to move in here and carry his child. You can’t wait to share the rest of your lives together raising a family once that red headed idiot moved out. What was his name again? He’s a little too close to Katsuki. Way too close. Was he trying to steal him? Trying to keep you away from him? You’ll put a stop to that. By any means necessary. Katsuki doesn’t have a choice.

“Y/N? Why are you on the floor?”

#bnha smut #katsuki smut #bakugo smut #bnha bakugo smut #— kill for you 🖤#bnha izuku smut #bnha todoroki smut

261 notes · View notes

sweetandsourfics · 4 years ago

Text

Glitter & Gold

Natasha Romanoff x Show Girl Reader | 1930s | NSFW | Masterlist

Summary: Natasha Romanoff is a woman in a man's world, tough and brilliant she is a force to be reckoned with, and she does all of this for her one true love. A little dancer with a mass amount of talent.

Warnings: slight mention of homophobia, smut, oral sex, vaginal fingering, edging, fxf, adult language.

Authors Note: I have a massive soft spot for my girl Natasha. Feedback is welcomed. I love hearing what you think of my stories. I'm also thinking of opening up my asks for requests.

Song used: The Naughty Lady of Shady Lane.

Natasha is a woman in a man's world. She demands respect. Unlike the other women who are laughed out of the room, she is given respect.

She protects the women of the city. Earning the nicknamed the Black Widow. Even worked enough recognition for her name that the group known as The Avengers came knowing at her door.

She takes a long drag of her cigarette, the stress of the night rolling off her shoulders.

Music erupts from the band pit, pulling all of the club's patrons to the stage. You step forward body shield with two giants fans.

A melody pours from your painted lips.

There you are, twirling around on the stage, dripping in jewels. A smirk pulls at the corners of Natasha couldn't help but laugh as Tony's mouth hangs open.

"Ain't that your girl?" Tony asks with a lazy gesture.

Flicking the cigarette butt into the crystal ashtray, a grin playing on her red lips. "That she is."

A true starlet, this tiny stage doesn't deserve you. You belong on Broadway. A life full of luxury, and she is going to make sure you get it.

Natasha watches as your eyes light up. You've noticed her.

You are now only singing for her, swaying your hips for her. A show that was meant for everyone now is all for the Black Widow.

They better enjoy the show because this is all they're getting.

Tony has managed to pick his jaw up from the floor. "That is one hell of a girl you got."

"Oh, I know." Natasha loves talking about you. Bragging about what a talented little lady she gets to come home to.

Her boys are the only people that she can talk to about her marital status. The rest of the city knows her as the man killer, single by choice. But in reality, she's wrapped around the finger of a certain female dancer.

Like everyone else in the club, they watched eyes fully focused on you. Tony feeling jealousy nipping at his nerves.

As the band fades out, you are rewarded with a standing ovation. Tony lets out a wolf whistle that surely has sent Natasha and the five closets tables deaf.

"You okay with closing this deal without me?" Natasha asks Tony.

She has some personal business to take care of. You can't expect to shake your hips and flutter your eyelash like that and expect nothing in return.

Tony gives her a knowing smile. He knows that look in her eye. Hell, he's the king of personal business.

"You want to go have some fun with your girl?" She was about to bite back, but he bet her to the punch. "Just go before I steal her away from you."

The look in Natasha screams bloody murder, and Tony raises his hands. "But I won't."

He downs the rest of his drink, "because I don't have a death wish."

Natasha stands, patting her boss on the shoulder. "That's what I thought."

Behind the closed door, Natasha can hear the beads of your dress rattle with your movements.

You're humming away to yourself, riding the high that comes with performing.

With no need to knock, Natasha lets herself in. The smile that you give her can brighten up the darkest days.

Your smile is the reason for her present and future.

Natasha grabs your hips and plants a heated kiss onto your lips. You're already whining for more.

You shiver in her hold, your cunt purring for her touch. Lord, she has only kissed you, and yet your body is craving her. She's like a drug, one that you know you'll never be able to kick.

She breaks the kiss, nipping at your bottom lip. "You really do know how to make that stage yours, don't you, baby girl?"

"Flattery will get you everywhere." You tease.

Her lips are back on yours, kissing you hungrily. Manicured hands wondering to your plush ass.

Natasha's lips wander from yours and down your neck. Sucking and biting into the subtle flesh.

You'll be packing on the foundation tomorrow.

You manage to rasp out a warning. "T-the door, baby."

With a frustrated noise and reluctant hands, Natasha pulls away. Taking the wooden chair from the dresser, she barricades the door.

Her coworkers may have no issue with your relationship, but you'd be out of a job and on the streets (Natasha would never let that happen) if one of the many club workers caught on.

By the time she returns, you sit atop the dresser, pantyhose, underwear and shoes on the floor.

"Why, aren't you a good girl?" She purrs, stalking you like a lioness. You can feel yourself grow wetter. "Ready and waiting just for me."

Natasha runs to fingers between your lips, collecting your arousal. "You are truly eager aren't you?"

You haven't the strength to speak. Your bottom lip sucked between your teeth. A pitiful needy noise is her only answer.

"You know the rules, Princess. No touching. Hands on the dresser." Natasha purs, pressing a finger to your clit. "If they move, the longer you'll have to wait to come."

Slowly she pushes two fingers into your tight entrance. Working you at an agonising pace. Your hands tremble at your side. You need to find some way to keep them busy or for Natasha to move faster,

You grind yourself against her. "That's it, princess. Nice and easy."

She knows your body as if it was her own. Curling her fingers she rips your breath from your lungs. Natasha meets you in a loving eager kiss.

you moan into the kiss as she quickens her movements. The small dressing from being filled with sinful noises. Your moans and the wet sounds of Natasha finger fucking you like some back alley whore.

"Yes! Yes, there!" You scream. Back arching from the mirror. Natasha applies much-needed attention to your clit.

Your orgasm approaches like a tidal wave, but just as the water is about to crash onto the shore. Natasha pulls away.

A devilish smirk on her lips. Licking you from her fingers.

The ache that radiates between your legs brings tears to your eyes. Helplessly you buck your hips hoping that something, anything! Will be able to scratch the itch.

"I love it when you're like this." Natasha takes a step back, taking a moment to admire her work. "Desperate. For me."

You beg, "please."

"Please, what?"

"Please, let me come."

"That's my girl."

Your legs are spread wide as Natash buries her tongue deep within you. The pink muscle pulls unholy sounds from you. Her thumb massaging your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Your hands tangled within her auburn locks as your hips abstinently roll against Natasha's tongue. Hungrily searching for release. Natasha has a death grip on your thighs.

Silent screams of pleasure falls from your lips. Thighs shake as the long-awaited wave of ecstasy swallows you whole.

The signs of your pleasure glisten on Natasha's lips and chin. Only her can make you cum this hard. Just one of the many reasons on the long list of why you love her.

#natasha x you #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha romanoff #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #mcu fanfiction #mcu natasha romanoff #mcu x y/n #mcu x reader #mcu x you #black widow #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #black widow x y/n #alternative universe #reader insert #female x reader #female x female

171 notes · View notes

ncssian · 4 years ago

Text

A Favor: Part Fifteen

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: NSFW!!😈😈 please disregard colorado window tinting laws for this chapter

***

Cassian has yet to regret getting Nesta that personalized record, despite the fact that she plays it everyday on repeat with a near obsession. Is this what true love is? Letting your girlfriend blast the same songs through your home again and again, and never tiring of it? Never tiring of her?

He doesn’t get to ponder on it, because while Nesta spends the week lazing pantsless around the house (“I’m getting ready for the party,” she states while he rubs her feet. “Spiritually and all that.”), Cassian has to figure out how to turn the cabin into an inviting space for forty wealthy guests.

All of Nesta’s shit gets shoved in the back of his bedroom closet. Personal items and framed pictures of the two of them are swiped off any surfaces. Lights go up around the house. Catering is secured.

By the time it’s all finished, the cabin has been stripped of all warmth and familiarity and turned into something chic and upscale, suitable for a small gala. Nesta stares around at the space when it’s done, her face revealing nothing.

Cassian points to the small sitting area on the second floor, directly above the open living room, that leads outside to the wraparound balcony. “We’ll be able to see fireworks from there,” he says. He turns to see Nesta’s face is still carefully blank, the way it is when she’s thinking too many things at once. “You sure you want to do this?” he asks. “It’s not too late to cancel the whole thing.”

She looks at him in horror. “It most certainly is. The party’s tomorrow.”

“Still not too late.” Cassian might not have that much power in the overall Night Court hierarchy, but for Nesta he could figure it out.

She smiles wanly but shakes her head. “We’re doing this, and we’re not letting it go to hell like last time.”

***

Nesta knows her sisters are aware that she’s on the guest list for the party (though she can’t imagine what Cassian’s explanation for that one was), but she still stiffens when she enters the cabin through the open door. Her eyes fall on various men and women that she’s never seen in her life, all glammed up and dripping self-importance, until recognizing Feyre and her boyfriend laughing with an older couple in a corner. The only thing that brings Nesta a little peace is that the snide woman, Amren, isn’t here tonight, having chosen to spend New Year’s with her boyfriend in California instead.

Nesta eases up when nobody takes notice of her, though a few nearby guests throw appreciative glances in her direction. She looks like a disco ball in her sequined wrap dress, and a freezing one at that. She shuts the door behind her, sealing the winter air out, but quickly pulls her hand away from the knob. It feels like the door isn’t hers to touch. She realizes that even though the cabin is her home, no one here except Cassian knows that.

Speaking of Cassian, she needs to find him. Nesta is not such an advanced creature that she knows how to survive in a room full of strangers on her own, and she no longer cares if anyone finds her clinging to Cassian weird.

She makes it three feet before she’s accosted by Morrigan, carrying her usual champagne glass like it’s an extension of her.

“Nesta!” she exclaims, loud and bright as ever. She smiles broadly, with too many teeth. “You’re here.”

Nesta blinks in response. She doesn’t understand how Morrigan benefits from this exaggerated excitement. Is it supposed to be insulting or polite?

“By the way,” Morrigan adds when Nesta doesn’t reply, “what exactly are you doing here?”

A heavy arm slides around Nesta’s shoulders, pulling her close. “I invited her,” says Cassian with a smile. “Because she’s my friend, and this place is practically hers.”

“Oh, I think that’s an exaggeration,” Nesta says sharply, trying to step away from Cassian.

He holds her closer. “No it’s not. We were roomies for over two months, remember?”

Morrigan winces, looking between the two of them. “Right,” she says slowly. “I keep forgetting that. Cassian is like this with everybody,” she says apologetically to Nesta. “Don’t take him too seriously.”

Nesta nods solemnly, wanting this conversation to be over. “I won’t.”

Her exit is made clear when the doorbell rings. “I’ll get it,” she says quickly, escaping from under Cassian’s arm.

Hurrying to the door, she swings it open.

Eris Vanserra stands looking irritated on the other side. He freezes when he sees Nesta, and then his face lifts into a smug grin. “Oh, this is too good.”

“So Cassian Madani was your sugar daddy all along?” Eris asks her later.

“Say sugar daddy one more time. I dare you.” Nesta stands near the stairs with her arms crossed, trying to pretend she isn’t associated with Eris. Which is more than a bit difficult when he keeps badgering her with questions, and Cassian is giving the two of them odd looks from across the room.

“I mean, what are the odds?” he laughs.

“My sister is dating his CEO brother.”

Eris throws her a look of surprise, but Nesta says, “How do you even know him?”

Eris sticks an hors d'oeuvre from a nearby platter in his mouth. “He manages security and logistics at every event Night Court is involved in. Can be a real pain in the ass to work with when I’m trying to get shit done for my dad’s company.”

“You’re a pain in the ass,” she retorts.

They’re interrupted by Feyre and Rhys appearing before them, Feyre with her hostess smile and Rhysand with an inquisitive look on his face. Nesta can’t tell which one of them is more attached to the hip of the other.

“Eris,” Rhysand greets smoothly.

“I see you’re already acquainted with my sister,” Feyre says. Her tone is tense, either because she’s still pissed at Nesta or—even worse—she feels protective of her.

“We’re classmates,” Nesta says tightly. “Does it matter?”

Feyre tries not to look hurt. “No—I just didn’t know.”

“Well, now you do.”

“Ladies,” a new voice says warningly. Cassian’s left whatever droll conversation he was stuck in and made his way over to them.

“Is the entire party congregating here?” Eris looks around himself.

“No, we are not,” Cassian says, all his usual friendliness gone around Eris. “I just came to ask Feyre to talk to the representatives from Spellbreaker before they pull all their money out of our latest operation.”

Feyre’s eyes go wide and her tattooed hand goes to her chest. “That’s not really my job—”

“Oh, come on, darling.” Rhysand slides a hand around her waist. “I’ll go with you; the art of negotiating is easier than it looks.”

Nesta nearly pukes in her mouth, but she maintains a careful blank face until Feyre and Rhysand are successfully out of sight. Cassian turns to Eris with a stony look. “You’re still here?”

Nesta sighs internally; this man has never hidden his feelings in his life.

Eris shares an amused glance with Nesta as if he’s thinking the same thing. “Is there anywhere else I should be right now?” he replies.

“Maybe in hell.”

Nesta claps a hand on Cassian’s shoulder and fakes a smile at Eris. “Tell your brother hi for me,” she says while pulling Cassian away. “I miss talking to a sensible redhead.”

“That’s because you have awful taste,” Eris calls after her. Nesta drags Cassian deep into the hallway, where no one lingers.

She releases him without flourish. “Are you doing okay? Because it seems like you’re having a harder time with this than I am.”

“I’m fine,” Cassian defends. “I was just hit with a terrible memory back there.”

“Like what?”

“That you’re friends with Eris.”

Nesta rolls her eyes. Friends is a very liberal term, but she won’t correct Cassian while he’s acting like this. “Thank you for helping with Feyre and Mor,” she says instead. “I didn’t need it, but I still appreciate it.” It’s a hard thing to admit, but she wants him to hear it.

“I was just trying to get you alone,” he says, leaning against the bathroom door. “I’ve been trying to get you alone all night.”

Nesta looks him up and down, from his white dress shirt and tied back hair to his uncharacteristically polished shoes. “For what?” she says warily. “If this is about a sex thing, don’t bother. There’s nowhere in this house for us to go without raising suspicion.”

Cassian pushes off the door with a dark look. “I wasn’t going to suggest staying in the house.” He holds a bronzed hand out toward her. “Wanna get out of here?”

***

Cassian doesn’t remember how he ever managed to fit all six-four of himself into the cramped backseat of his truck when he was fucking girls in college, but for Nesta he figures it out somehow.

Her pretty little dress is shoved down to her midriff, baring her arms and flushed breasts, and her skirt is bunched up high enough that Cassian can watch as he moves his fingers inside her. The glow of lights from the cabin lands on her perfect face as she throws her head back in pleasure, and he can only watch her in awe.

He laughs lowly when she whimpers and eases a third finger into her wet heat, in no rush to return to the party anytime soon. Let them all wonder where he and Nesta wandered off to.

But Nesta has far less patience than him; she pulls him in for a frenzied kiss and uses the distraction to slide her hand into his boxer briefs, palming his cock. He groans into her mouth as she pulls out the length of him from his unzipped pants, and it’s at that very moment that two voices interrupt their panting.

“Thanks,” a muffled female voice says from outside the truck. Cassian looks up through the dark tinted windows to find—Jesus Christ—Mor accepting a cigarette from Rhys. The two of them stand some feet away from the truck, unaware that anyone is occupying it.

“Some way to end the year,” Rhys is saying, watching the clear night sky. Nesta’s gone completely still beneath Cassian, not needing to get up and look to know who stands in the driveway. “Would have been even better without Nesta terrorizing Feyre at every turn.”

Sickness turns Cassian’s stomach at hearing such ugly words about Nesta come from his brother, but that sickness is quickly replaced by rage as Mor huffs a laugh. “She’s not that bad,” Mor says, taking a pull from her cigarette. “Though I could do without the attitude at every damn gathering.”

Rhys clicks his tongue. “She’s always been like that, even when the sisters were kids. It kills Feyre.”

Cassian glances down at Nesta, terrified of what he’s going to find on her face. But Nesta doesn’t look hurt or enraged like he expects. Instead, she’s listening closely with her brows furrowed, studiously intrigued.

Noticing Cassian’s attention on her, she meets his eyes and her breath hitches. A blush takes over her cheeks, and she clenches involuntarily around the fingers still deep inside her. Cassian realizes that his fury is written all over his face. And she likes it.

His anger at his friends flickers—or rather, transforms. Slowly, he pulls his fingers out of Nesta. He sits up a bit straighter and kneels properly on the backseat, earning a curious look from her. Hunching so his head doesn’t hit the truck ceiling, he wraps his hands around her thighs and maneuvers her legs up, up until they’re hooked over his shoulders. She nearly chokes at the new position.

He adjusts them so his cock is pressed right up against her sex, and looks out the window again, where Rhys and Mor are still talking. It’s all idle gossip, he knows, but... “What do you think, baby?” He slides his length over her slick folds. “Should I go out there and defend your honor?”

“Absolutely not,” Nesta gasps, shaking her head.

“And it’s like when she’s not quiet as a brick, she’s being rude,” Mor rants outside, flicking her cigarette. “I know Cass is friendly with everybody, but I have no idea what he was thinking inviting her here.”

“Oh, she’s not so quiet when I have my head between her legs,” Cassian murmurs at Mor. He glances down at Nesta with a knowing smirk. “She’s not so rude when I give her the right incentive, either.” He pats her bottom lip with his thumb, the bright red lipstick smearing. “Isn’t that right, Nes?”

“Bastard.” Nesta squirms, trying to line up her entrance with the head of Cassian’s cock. She’s not even listening to the conversation outside anymore.

“I think he likes her,” Rhys says, his breath clouding in the freezing night air. If only he knew. “We don’t always use reason when it comes to people we like.”

“Maybe,” Mor ponders. “But I can’t imagine it going anywhere. They’re too different.”

“I disagree,” Cassian mutters. He finally gives in to Nesta’s efforts and pushes inside her, sliding to the hilt in one thrust. She claps a hand over her mouth to stifle her moan.

“There are plenty of things we have in common, don’t you think, Nesta?” He sets a steady rhythm with his hips, pumping in and out of her. “Like how well we fit together.” Her head bumps the car door with every thrust.

“You—you’re gonna rock the truck,” Nesta tries to whisper. Cassian hides his smile in the crook of her knee at the rare use of informal contraction. She’s adorable.

“We wouldn’t want that to happen,” he teases, leaning forward to take a pert nipple into his mouth. A whimper slips past her lips; she’s nearly bent in half beneath him. With this new, deeper angle, Cassian moves slow enough that Nesta feels every solid inch of him.

His loose hair falls around his face as he drops his head to the center of Nesta’s chest. It takes every bit of restraint he knows not to suckle at the space between her breasts, not to leave reddened marks there that everyone will be able to see when they go back inside. But damn if this position isn’t driving him crazy.

Mor, Rhys, everything beyond the haven of the truck falls away. He doesn’t know if anybody is still outside, or if people have noticed his and Nesta’s absence from the party. He doesn’t care, not as he swears and thrusts particularly deep into her tight warmth.

Even her hand can’t contain the sound she makes at that.

Cassian moves one of his own hands to the crown of Nesta’s head, creating a barrier between her and the car door. With his other arm, he locks her thighs into place against his chest, and begins slamming relentlessly into her.

“CassianCassianCassian—”

He silences her with a searing kiss, and flicks her clit with a calloused thumb. Nesta scrabbles at his arms, at the seat upholstery, as her orgasm crashes into her. Her walls milk his cock almost painfully, and with a few more thrusts he’s coming, too.

As he rides out his climax, he intertwines their fingers together and presses them to the freezing window. Outside, there is no one to see the handprint they leave on the fogged up glass.

***

Nesta needs a moment to catch her breath while Cassian zips himself up. Leaning against the hard truck door, she achingly fits one arm back into the sleeve of her dress, then the other. “I think I have a bruise from where that seatbelt buckle stabbed me in the ribs,” she mutters.

“Where?” Cassian looks her over, but she waves him away and reaches over to dig in the back pocket of the driver’s seat, finding a packet of makeup wipes she left there some weeks ago. She plucks out a wipe for herself and tosses the rest of the packet at Cassian’s chest, which is covered in her lipstick marks.

He accepts the wipes with a “thanks” and begins rubbing at his reddened mouth and neck. Nesta watches him instead of wiping at her own lipstick, taking in whatever the light of the moon highlights: his unbuttoned shirt, his loose hair that fell forward into her face while they fucked, his skin peppered with her marks.

He notices her stare. “What?” he says, smiling.

“Have you ever done that before?” She nods outside to where Mor and Rhys were standing ten minutes ago. It wasn’t exhibitionism since nobody had seen them, but it still felt... dirty.

Cassian snorts, starting to button up his shirt. “I’ve done far worse.” He meets her eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever gotten off to the sound of other people shit-talking my girl, though, so that’s new.”

Nesta blushes, and pretends to look around for her shoes to hide the reaction. She’s always known her bedroom experience was pathetically limited, but she’s just now starting to realize how much of that was Tomas’s fault. Not only was he boring when it came to sex, but he left her too hurt and untrusting to try anything with other men until Cassian came along.

Cassian nudges Nesta’s knee, and she finds him already holding her heels. Instead of letting her take them, he takes her feet and starts putting them on for her. “Clean yourself up,” he directs as he buckles a silver strap into place. “It’s almost an hour to midnight.”

Right. Cassian tosses her her panties, and she uses them to clean up the mess between her thighs before discarding them on the floor. “Don’t—” he tries to protest, but sighs and gives up. “You’re filthy.”

“You love it.” She picks up her forgotten makeup wipe to scrub at her smeared makeup. “Do I look okay?” She turns her face to him after a moment so he can check.

“You missed a spot.” He takes the wipe and rubs at her chin. “There,” he says softly, gazing more intimately at her than usual. “Beautiful.”

She most certainly doesn’t look beautiful right now, with the mess that’s been made of her face and hair. But he seems to believe it all the same.

I love you. The thought comes to her suddenly, unexpectedly.

“What?” Shock turns Cassian’s face.

Nesta blinks, realizing the words weren’t only in her head. “What?”

“You said—”

“I said ‘Let’s get out of here’,” she says quickly, swinging her legs down from the seat and reaching for the door handle. “Let’s go!”

She shoves out of the truck without waiting for Cassian and foots it for the cabin, breathing harshly like she just fell from a great height.

***

Nesta goes straight to the master bedroom to redo her makeup and pick up a new pair of underwear. She knows it’s cowardly to leave Cassian downstairs, stuck chatting with wealthy donors and unable to follow her, but she won’t let him confront her about the confession that spilled back in the truck. Not yet.

When she finally finds the courage to stick her head out of the room, she nearly jumps at the sight of Azriel leaning against the hallway wall.

“What are you doing in my brother’s room?” he says, as if he was waiting for her to come out.

The best lies are half-truths. “Avoiding people,” she answers vaguely, exiting the room fully and shutting the door behind her. She clears her throat. “What are you doing here?”

“Snooping.” He pushes off the wall and slides his hands into his pockets. “It’s interesting; I don’t think I’ve seen you all night, and now I find you in Cassian’s bedroom of all places.”

What is this, an interrogation? “I’m good at blending in,” Nesta says. “Few people ever notice me.”

“And I’m good at observing,” Azriel retorts, dark amusement gleaming in his gaze. “Where did you run off to earlier?”

Nesta looks him up and down, too bored to bother answering him. “I’m going to go now.” She shoves past his shoulder and walks away, leaving him too stunned to follow.

She comes across Elain near the top of the stairs.

“Nesta,” her sister says in surprise. Her brown eyes flicker past Nesta’s shoulder, to where Azriel still lurks in the hallway. She looks back to Nesta. “I wasn’t sure if you actually came tonight. I haven’t seen you at all.”

“Yeah, I’ve been hanging around.” Nesta waves a dismissive hand. It’s like Christmas Eve never happened between them. That’s the wonderful and terrible thing about sisters, Nesta supposes: there are no apologies, only moving on and moving past.

“Well, you look like you’re doing good.” Elain seems distracted. “I wish we could talk more, but I don’t have time for a fight tonight.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Azriel says, who’s snuck up behind Nesta. “If it’s me you’re worried about, I was just about to leave.” He’s addressing Elain, but won’t quite look her in the eyes. He turns to Nesta instead. “Happy New Year.” And then he’s gone down the stairs.

Elain stands there looking torn, wondering if she should go after him or not, but then Nesta says, “Why do you assume I would start a fight?”

“I—”

“Because if I remember correctly, our last fight was started by you.” She crosses her arms.

Elain sighs. “I just said I don’t have time for this.”

“I’m asking a question in response to a comment you made unprovoked.” When Nesta is calm, she can talk circles around Elain all night.

Elain throws her hands up. “It was just a stupid comment! I said it because we argue all the time. I can’t remember the last time we talked without arguing.”

“September twenty-eighth,” Nesta snaps.

Elain’s mouth drops open. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. You got the loan for your flower shop approved and you called me to celebrate. I was happy for you.”

Elain shakes her head, but Nesta can’t read what she’s feeling. “You remember the most inconsequential things.”

It doesn’t sound like an insult, so Nesta shrugs. “Don’t bother me and I won’t bother you.” She turns to go on her way. Of course, Elain doesn’t stop her. She’s never been one to get in the last word.

***

It’s ten minutes to midnight and Cassian still hasn’t been able to get a hold of Nesta since she ran from the truck. He doesn’t know why she’s running from such a simple truth, but he doesn’t plan on giving her much more time to hide. He has so much he needs to say to her—

A hand comes down on his shoulder as he’s about to slip away upstairs to find Nesta. Cassian turns to find Rhysand there, wearing the serious face he only uses for work-related business. “I need to talk to you about something.”

Cassian is not in the mood. He already had to repress the urge to find Mor and Rhys and tear into them when he returned to the party, and now he’s not sure if he can manage a conversation with his brother without snapping. Without spilling everything he’s worked so hard to hide.

“Not now,” Cassian says, trying to act chill. “It’s almost midnight and I’m trying to catch the...” He trails off as his eyes catch on Nesta, who’s appeared at the second floor sitting area with Eris.

“...fireworks,” he finishes. He turns to Rhys. “Let’s go upstairs to watch.” Half the guests, including the rest of his friends, are probably already outside for the countdown.

He keeps his eyes on Nesta as he climbs the stairs. Watching as she takes notice of him and quickly turns away, smiling at Eris instead. She lets the dickhead place his hand on her back to guide her out to the balcony.

Rage and disbelief take Cassian by the throat. Hiding in another man’s arms to avoid him? Coward fucking move, Archeron.

She steps outside with Eris, and before Cassian can follow he’s stopped once again by Rhys grabbing his arm. “Cass, will you slow down and listen to me for a minute?”

“What is it?” he snaps impatiently. They’re stopped at the top of the stairs, and other guests flow past them as they head for the balcony doors.

Rhys inhales, getting visibly irritated. He says, “I got a call from one of our overseas partners the other day—”

“Rhys!” Feyre calls from the balcony doors, waving her arms at him. “Get your ass over here, it’s almost midnight!”

Rhys turns to his girlfriend, his face lightening. “Be right there, darling.” He gives Cassian a sharp look. “We’ll finish this later.”

Cassian only nods and whirls on his heel, nearly shoving people out of his way to get outside. To get to Nesta.

Up on the wraparound balcony and down below on the frosty ground, guests are lined up with their partners, wrapped up in coats and eagerly awaiting midnight. He barely feels the cold, but he knows Nesta must. He should have grabbed a coat for her.

“Thirty seconds to midnight!” someone announces, answered by loud cheers.

Spotting shining red hair, Cassian grabs Eris by the suit jacket and whirls him around. “Where’s Nesta?” he demands over the loud chatter.

Eris makes a face like he’s been manhandled by a filthy dog. “Clearly not with me,” he retorts, shoving Cassian’s hand off him. “She got all pissy and went that way.” He gestures at a faraway section of balcony where most of the guests are crowding, hoping for an optimal view of the fireworks.

“TEN!” Someone starts the countdown. Others quickly catch on.

“NINE!” Cassian heads in the direction Eris pointed, searching through the sea of glitter and gold for a glimpse of Nesta.

“EIGHT!” He hears his friends calling after him distantly, asking where he’s going.

“SEVEN!” He catches sight of Nesta.

“SIX!” He doesn’t know what he’s thinking as he navigates through the crowd, reaching for her. But he knows she’s shining brighter than the moon right now. He knows he’s been fooling himself since the moment she stepped into his cabin this past September.

“FIVE!”

He closes in on her, her back turned to him.

“FOUR!”

Let’s not go out of our way to hide this anymore, they agreed after Christmas Eve. Let’s just be ourselves around our friends and family, and they’ll find out when they find out.

“THREE!”

In Cassian’s defense, he’s simply being himself in this moment.

“TWO!”

He takes Nesta by the elbow and spins her around. She meets his eyes in surprise. “Cassian. I was looking for you—”

“ONE!”

He pulls her into his arms and kisses her.

***

a/n: punk 57 was a shit book but i gotta give it credit for the truck scene

taglist: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @readiajin @nessiantrashh @live-the-fangirl-life @ifinallygavein

#nesta archeron #nessian #cassian #ncssianwrites #a favor #nessian fic #nessian au #for some reason i’m not showing up in the tags??#i’m gonna kill everybody

237 notes · View notes