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fayes-fics · 8 months

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When The World Is Free: Chapter 5 - Sans Y Penser

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Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: none really... mildly angsty situations, some flirting and interesting proposals.

Word Count: 2.9k

Author’s Note: Multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl! Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. HERE BE PLOT. A lot of things happen in this one afternoon. Thanks to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy!

Le Havre, September 1939

The port city of Le Havre is bustling with travellers hauling suitcases and steamer trunks, all walks of life converging on this point of exit. You weave through the crowds from the train station as a trio, headed for the bright red awnings of the company sailing to the USA. Benedict and Eloise hang back as you approach the ticket window.

“Name?” the brusque man in the booth opens with a crisp American accent.

“Y/n y/l/n,” you smile politely.

“You are not on the manifest,” he sighs after a pause to scan down the paperwork, impatience colouring his tone.

“But I must be,” you frown, “I was given this here…”

You push your ticket under the window, clearly marked with today’s date.

“Fraudsters,” his economic response.

“But… they were from your company? Outside your offices in Paris? And wearing your company livery? They… They said I could bring forward my sailing date from August to today. They took my original ticket and gave me this! It looks the same!” Panic rises in your voice with each sentence, dread churning behind your ribs as you realise you have likely been duped.

“I'm sorry, ma’am, but that is not a valid ticket,” is his monotone reply.

“Oh god. What can I do? May I buy another ticket now?!?”

His responding laugh is a loud bark, “Hah! Ma’am, we are booked up for weeks in advance. There is a long line every day of people hoping for last-minute availability,” he signals to a line of weary-looking, luggage-laden folks under a makeshift shelter.

“But I….” you feel your eyes watering and dread in the pit of your stomach like you are falling down an endless chasm.

“Ma’am, please step aside; I need to ensure valid passengers can board this ship…” he warns in a tone that is wholly without sympathy.

With a weak nod, you stumble away, back towards Benedict and Eloise. As you draw closer, their faces are a picture of concern, realising something is amiss. As you tearfully recount what happened, Benedict seethes, and Eloise wraps her arm around you, looking pained.

“I’m going up there. This is unacceptable!” Benedict grits out, righteous indignation fizzing from his very being.

You have to hold out a hand to physically stop him. “It's likely no use,” you appease.

His ire deflates a fraction at your hold on his coat sleeve. “At least let me try, y/n,” he modifies after a few beats.

“Alright,” you relent, dropping your hand, “but I do not expect a different answer.”

You and Eloise cling to each other as you watch Benedict remonstrate with the same man and then a different one at the window. All the while, your stomach is in knots, equal parts fear and hope.

It's five or more minutes before Benedict returns to you, his face pinched.

“I was not successful,” he screws his mouth, looking away as if he cannot meet your eye as he says it. “They don't seem to care that criminals are posing as agents for their organisation,” he rubs his eyebrow in irritation. “I would report it to the police, but it's not their jurisdiction here, and it still does not solve our dilemma…”

“Thank you anyway…” you breathe, “for trying at least…”

There is a long silence as the three of you stand there, stupified by the conundrum before you. The chime of a clock on the harbour building breaks your thoughts.

“It's 3pm. Your sailing back to England is in less than an hour. You should go. You two leave without me,” you demure.

“NO!” they both exclaim in almost comic sibling unison.

“I’ll be fine, seriously.”

“I’m not leaving you alone here for god knows how long until there is room on a ship to America. You can’t be alone. This isn’t Paris; this is a port city. It’s definitely not safe,” Eloise rattles off, looking at you imploringly.

“She’s right,” Benedict concurs. “You were safe in Paris together before the war. You are not safe here. A beautiful young woman. You are a target for thieves or even worse. You cannot stay here alone.”

You try your hardest not to let Benedict calling you beautiful derail your whole thought train, but it’s futile. Your mind is scattered like a pile of wooden toy railway coaches.

“I... I could return to Paris?” You finally suggest after what feels like an eternity of buffering. “I could call to check for last-minute availability every morning. It’s only a couple of hours by train. I’ll be always packed and ready to go…” you argue, not as yet realising the naivety behind your own idea.

“Paris will be the first target for Hitler’s invasion,” Benedict says gravely. “It could be much worse to remain there…”

“So what am I to do? I’m damned if I do, and I’m damned if I don’t…”

“There is only one solution, and that is for us to remain here as well until you can secure passage out of the country,” Benedict shrugs.

“Agreed,” Eloise nods emphatically as you go to protest.

“There are many more sailings back to England, and tickets are easier to come by,” Benedict points out. “We can move our tickets up. At least by a few days until we can devise a plan.”

“Wait… if there are no ships to America, why don't you come to England with us?” Eloise pipes up in a lightbulb moment.

“I have nowhere I could stay…”

“Nonsense! You will stay with us at Aubrey Hall. Won’t she, Benedict?”

“Oh yes, of course. There are plenty of spare rooms,” he assures.

“Gosh, umm... Maybe? I…” you hesitate. The whiplash of the last few minutes and the generosity of their offer momentarily overwhelm you. “That's very generous of you. The problem is I don’t know for how long it would be, or even if I should. My parents only agreed to me living in Paris under the watchful eye of Solene. This… this is entirely other…”

You startle as Benedict places his hands on your shoulders, pulling your attention to his sincere expression. “Y/n, you need to worry less about what your family thinks and more about yourself - what you need and your safety. This is escaping impending war; it’s a completely different circumstance from how you arrived here. The decisions you make right now have to be selfish and unburdened by expectations. It’s easy for others to judge from the distance of safety. But look around you. This town is teeming with people clambering to leave the country before an invasion. We do what we have to in unpredictable circumstances to survive.”

“You sound like a soldier,” you murmur.

“It’s what my father was,” he replies, releasing his grip but not moving away. “As a very young man in The Great War. He was lucky to survive, being an officer away from the front lines, but he taught me many things before he died. And one was about always making the smart choice if you can see one, even if it feels uncomfortable. The smart choice here is to escape by any means necessary. We all know Hitler has his sights set on France, especially Paris, as the figurative and cultural capital of Europe. You must get out. You must come with us.” You are captivated by his hazy eyes as he speaks, your heart beating fast as his face and voice grow softer. “Please. I could not live with myself if we left you behind,” he admits in a much quieter tone, but the plea is no less impassioned.

You cannot help it. You stare up at him, transfixed. Stanley has never been so eloquent. Or indeed so invested in your well-being.

“Alright…” your hesitancy soft, “but you must let me pay you for my ticket…”

His face seems to light up at your acquiescence. “One day… maybe,” he smiles.

And so that is what he does - leaves you and Eloise ensconced in a nice bistro overlooking the harbour with a large bottle of white wine as he walks over to the ticket office for the ferry company and swaps their tickets for a few days hence and purchases an additional ticket for you, steadfastly refusing to tell you the cost for it even for many weeks hence.

While you are in the ladies' room, Eloise strikes up a conversation with a young man in uniform at the adjacent table; you fondly roll your eyes as you retake your seat and leave them be. Your gaze, however, is never far from the window, to where Benedict last left your line of sight, somehow anxious for his return. When he reappears, striding purposefully towards the cafe, your chest flutters hard, his coat swishing around his legs, his hat at an attractive slant. If there is one thing you swear you could spend a lifetime doing, it’s watching Benedict Bridgerton just… be.

“Any luck?” you ask as he arrives and doffs his hat, taking a seat on your other side, throwing an exasperated glance at his little sister and the uniformed man.

“We are set to sail Thursday,” he smiles and signals for the waiter, ordering a glass of Beaujolais. “I also stopped in the post office to call Solene. She has said we can stay as long as we need to at her sister’s cottage a few miles from town.”

“Oh, that's wonderful news!” your shoulders relax for the first time in what feels like hours. “But wait, I remember she said there is only one bedroom,” you point out. “You’ve been sleeping on our sofa for days now… you deserve a bed. I’ll take the sofa…”

“No. Also, I’m not sharing a bed with my sister,” he shudders, “she kicks in her sleep!”

“Oh, thanks. So I guess you want me to have bruised shins, then??” You laugh with gusto, the ricochet day making all your emotions heightened, seemingly bouncing from one extreme to another. Right now, a strange bubble of joy at this lighthearted exchange.

“Not at all. In fact, I’d happily share with you instead to save your legs from the abuse!”

You know it’s said in jest, the comedic relief of the moment evident on his face, but still, a shot fires in your chest at the thought of sharing a bed with him. You decide to make light of it, even as your heart quickens.

“How do I know this kicking is not a problem that runs in the family? And you’re way stronger than her!”

“You can tie me down if it would make you feel better!” he chuckles loudly.

You flush all over, the very thought so beguiling yet scandalous. And yet you cannot stop your mouth running away with you, this flirtatious banter too tasty to resist, the wine you’ve been drinking far too quickly for the last half hour loosening your lips.

“I think you would enjoy that far too much, Mr Bridgerton,” you volley back, raising an eyebrow with a giggle.

His cheeks turn the most adorable shade of pink even as his eyes dilate rapidly, a corner of his tongue flicking out to pull his bottom lip under his teeth. It makes you want to sink your teeth right there, this impulse to be so physical with someone discombobulating. You've never had such errant, feral desires for Stanley.

“You're probably right…” he rumbles quietly after a pause.

You dare to hold his gaze even though you know it’s a mistake. This nightmare of a day makes you uncaring of propriety. He looks as wild as you feel inside, a glint in his eye that is at once permission and danger.

“Theo here has been telling me all sorts of helpful information,” Eloise leans in, breaking the spell between you, a slight slur in her voice from her wine.

Theo nods to you and Benedict. On closer inspection, he appears to be in a British soldier uniform.

“I have to get back on duty,” he explains apologetically as he rises from his seat, “but I hope the information I’ve provided to your sister here will help.” He adds with a tiny salute.

You look surprised at Eloise as she just shrugs. You thought her up to her usual flirtatious banter, not researching. Benedict looks impressed too. You both, however, don’t miss the note he slips to Eloise before he takes his leave. Perhaps not purely intelligence gathering, then.

“Theo is helping process entry to Britain for foreign nationals wanting safe harbour. The numbers have spiralled since the war was declared.” She begins to explain when he is out of sight. “There is sadly a waiting list. But there are a few ways to skip the queue…

“Those being?” Benedict prompts before you can.

“Having family relatives residing in Britain already or, top of the pile, being the spouse of a British national.”

You slump your shoulders. “I have no relations there. Uncle Robert was visiting, but he was already at sea returning to America when the war was declared,” you explain, wishing he had stayed a few weeks longer.

“I wonder if we can find any paperwork forgers around?” Eloise ponders aloud.

“Eloise,” Benedict's tone is one of brotherly warning and disapproval, “we will not be taking that route.” his tone striking a chord of finality.

“But… how else can we get her into the country without bending the rules?” she exclaims at him, frustrated, gesticulating.

“I’m thinking…” Benedict grouses back, rubbing his chin and looking deep in thought.

Eloise leans back in her chair and twists her mouth into a pout. She takes a swig of wine before twisting to you and casually making a suggestion that flips your entire being.

“You could marry this one,” she jokes, shrugging and gesturing at Benedict.

Your eyes dart to Benedict and his to you. A tidal wave of a hundred different feelings crashing through you at once.

“I’ll do it…” he offers, quick and quiet.

“El, don't be ridic…” your denial, spoken over his, dies on your tongue as you process what he said.

You can't help it, you gape open-mouthed at him. As does Eloise.

“You would?” you stutter.

He nods, mien sincere, but you could swear there is more, too, a rousing intensity.

“I was joking, brother,” Eloise frowns.

“It's the only solution that guarantees her passage out of France,” he argues, “that's the most important thing here…”

“But marriage? That is such a sacrifice… I could never ask that of you…” you shake your head, even as your stomach feels like a rollercoaster.

“That's why I'm offering, so you don't have to ask,” he shrugs as if this is not a big deal. “It is not me who has to make the sacrifice. It is you who has an intended…”

Stanley.

Your face falls as you think of the consequences. Marrying Benedict, if only for escape, would wound Stanley beyond belief. Your father, both your parents, in fact, would vehemently disapprove.

“We can annul it as soon as we get to England…” he assures.

“French marriages can be annulled, brother, yes, but in France. Not in England,” Eloise pipes up, ever the font of knowledge.

“Then I will grant you an immediate divorce,” he amends.

“I can't believe you are taking me seriously,,,” Eloise mutters, but both of you seem to ignore it.

“I’d still be a divorcee, damaged goods as my father would say…” you wince at the phrase but know it to be accurate in Long Island, as much as you hate it.

“I don't know how else to help you escape, y/n,” Benedict implores, slightly alarmed.

“Keep thinking!” Eloise interjects hotly. “I won't have my poor best friend here shackled to a Bridgerton brother. She has done absolutely nothing to deserve such a sentence, however short.”

“Eloise!” you scold without thought, “don't be so rude about your brother! He's wonderful….”

You immediately flush with embarrassment as she looks at you suspiciously. You dare not even look over to the subject of your praise, but you can feel the weight of his stare.

“But umm yes, let's keep thinking…” you mumble, embarrassed, looking down and picking at your cuticles in your lap.

“I need a bloody cigarette,” Eloise pronounces, suddenly standing up, her chair scraping loudly over the tiled floor.

“Sister, you do not smoke,” Benedict frowns up at her, again with that air of elder sibling forbearance.

“Sometimes I do,” she shrugs, her tone defiant, “and this situation definitely warrants one.” She jabs her finger by her side to emphasise her opinion.

With that, she marches up to the bar and orders one but does not return to the table, shooting you both a look before heading to the wall outside and sitting alone, staring out at the horizon and taking deep draws.

You and Benedict sit in silence, heads bowed in thought for what feels like an age, only interspersed with small sips of wine.

“I honestly can't think of another way out of this mess…” Benedict sighs, breaking the hush. “But I understand it's such an enormous decision; you need time to consider it.”

You are scared by how much your heart and mind are screaming, ‘I really don't, I will marry you,’ even if your gut churns with the idea of how you will explain it to everyone. You look up, and again, those blue eyes bore into yours. Sincerity, concern, empathy, and something that looks dangerously like desire. You could get lost in that look. Forever.

“I’ll do it…” you whisper, knowing you are playing with fire… and yet yearning to be burned.

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genyawritesshizz · 5 months

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A Hum of Time Toshinori Yagi X Reader

Part 2

Part 1

Summary: An innocent relationship between two workaholics could not possibly be that eventful. Just two individuals finding comfort within each other's company and the occasional cup of coffee. What happens when a secret that could ruin both of their careers brings the whole thing crashing down? In a heart wrenching decision, you must do what is best for all three of you and brave the future alone. Will you ever tell the truth? You might not have a choice.

10661-word count

first part of the fluff. Gotta get all cute and mushy before I go in for the kill ;)

To go back to when the two of you actually had time to talk and frolic within each other's company. When the future seemed brighter: When things were easier.

You had signed to work for All Might’s agency a few months ago, and so far, it has been an absolute delight. The pay was incredible, but the most remarkable aspect was how well organized the staff conducted missions and reports. As an up-and-coming hero, you needed a stable foundation to grow.

Toshinori typically kept to himself, pushing his full focus onto the task at hand when it came to anything work related. Head always glued to his computer screen and hands typing away on keyboard. A crucial and unrecognized portion of hero work involved never ending hours of paperwork. Between reports, emails and the overflowing inbox of media or fan mail he rarely found time for breaks when in office. However, he’d force himself to take short breathers from time to time, just to rest his reddened eyes from the blazing screen.

He always picked the same seat in the cafeteria; tucked into a corner beside one of the many extensive windows to gaze out at the surprisingly still busy street he sat alone. The room was silent as it was well past lunch, in fact most of his employees had already gone home for the night as it was nearing 8PM. Recapping his daily to-do list within his mind he sighed, so much to do with so little time in the day.

“Um excuse me” whipping away from the street view he is faced with a woman standing before him, a laptop in hand and frustration evident on her face. “I'm so sorry to interrupt your break sir but I had a question, and I was wondering if you could help.”

Shocked, his train of thought fell off the rails. In his weakened form it was exceedingly rare for anyone to approach him much less ask for help.

“Of course,” Nodding to the seat in front of him, his mind scrambled to recover. Sitting down with the laptop you sighed in defeat.

“Thank you so much, nobody else is here and this report is due tonight.” Turning the screen to face him you began explaining your dilemma, something about incorrect formatting, an easy fix for someone like him who could practically type one of these up in his sleep. Though he did not recognize you with a quick scan of the file you were attempting to submit he recognized it as a heroic police report. A document that all heroes must submit after an arrest. To the average secretary it would not have sparked suspicion from a simple glance. However the discretely marked fine print was all too familiar to him. You must be one of the newly contracted heroes. He hadn’t had the time to properly look over the roster of employees in quite some time, truly a neglectful fault of his. He made a mental note to check.

After showing and explaining how to fix the format your report was submitted.

“Again, thank you so much…” You trailed off “Oh yeah, I completely forgot! Im (Y/N).” You felt like a total ass; You had marched up to this complete stranger durring his break, made demands that he assist you and didn’t even introduce yourself. Your cheeks tinted in embarrassment. The man chuckled, he hadn’t even noticed the lack of formalities.

“No worries (y/n), Im Toshinori Yagi” He reached a slender hand out, which you happily shook. Taking your own mental note of how his digits completely encased your own hand, nearly reaching the wrist. “Let me know if you ever need help again.” He smiled and let go.

“It’s nice meeting you Toshinori, I’ll be seeing you around!” Returning the smile graciously and folding the laptop closed, you got up to walk away. His eyes trailed your retreating form.

He thought that this would surely be the only time your two paths crossed. A fluke scenario.

Oh, how fate had a funny way of making things happen.

It was another long night of burning the candle at both ends for the symbol. The weight on his eyelids begged him to call it a night as he finally wrapped up his nightly duties. Yet when rounding the corner and coming face to face with someone, almost knocking both parties over, he was wide awake. Focusing instead on ensuring the person he’d carelessly almost ran over was unharmed with profuse apologies. There you stood, a steaming hot cup of coffee in hand, thankfully non spilled onto your wrinkled blouse, and a pile of papers the size of Texas in the other.

“Hey Toshinori! ” His name rolled casually off your tongue. You looked dead on your feet, the same bags that lined his eyes matched yours. “You’re good! No harm done”

“Hey?” Confused, he glanced over to the double handed clock on the wall, 11:34pm. His thin eyebrows furrowed, casting a dark shadow. “What are you doing here so late? It’s almost midnight.” Laughing lightly you eyed him skeptically, your own eyebrow quirked.

“I could ask you the same thing.” Before he could try and concoct an excuse you continued “I figured I’d get the last of this finished otherwise it’ll just pile up.” He could argue that it already was.

“Did you need help with that?” The aforementioned exhaustion had crawled away into the deep recesses of his mind, most likely to return with a vengeance later, at the thought of being able to help you again.

“No no, I'm okay, besides a bunch of this stuff is pretty classified.” He wanted to chuckle at that, as All Might he had full access to any and all files in this building, from a delivery receipt to top secret government documents. His reach most likely exceeded that but, as Toshinori Yagi the department head he had to respect the illusion of limitations.

“Oh right, sorry.” He scratched at the back of his neck, feeling a bit of awkwardness sink in.

“No worries, thank you for the offer though” once again he watched you walk away, down the hallway and out of sight.

His own personal curiosity nagged at him to finally find the time to properly look at your file. Taking his rebound of energy now was as good a time as any, best to do it while it was fresh on the mind. Turning his computer on again he pulled up the agency's employee catalog and searched your name. There you were, that same smile you gave him moments ago reflected in the photo.

‘(Y/n) (y/l/n) - Siren. Quirk; Voice. ’ Scrolling through your profile he skimmed over the most recent reports. Not shocked to see some having been posted mere minutes ago. Not bad, great in fact, you’d only started here two months ago and already had a substantial amount of arrests under your belt. Although most were for minor offenses it set a promising future. Scrolling back up he read through the short biography under your photo graduated UA with substantially high marks seven years ago, studied at The University of Kyoto with a major in business, had been a sidekick under various different heroes for two years, and over the last year have been working as a private pro hero. Now at the age of twenty five you’d been contracted under his prestigious agency. The recruiting team really knew how to pick the best, he’d have to praise them for their dedication. With the itch satisfyingly scratched he, for the final time tonight, shut his computer off.

Like clockwork, late at night, when the halls were barren wastelands, the sound of a coffee pot brewing another batch and the buzz of overhead fluorescents somehow always connected the two of you.

“Good evening (y/n)” Yagi greeted from the other side of the printer, both of you sporting matching stacks of paperwork in hand.

“ Evening Toshi, how are you?” He always enjoyed these little chats and the nickname you’d given him, it made him feel more like a person.

As strange as it sounds, if he wasn’t out being a public symbol he was in meetings or filing paperwork about it, not that he minded of course. It was his job, his sole purpose in life, yet it often left him feeling like a ghost when in his normal form. If he wasn’t actively being All Might then he was simply just existing. But with you, you actually spoke to him, to Toshinori Yagi. He found himself yearning for more, even if ‘more’ meant just brief casual workplace conversation.

“I’m fine thank you, and yourself?” Gathering the warm paper from under the collection doc he organized his stack.

“Oh you know me.” You laughed. It’s true, throughout the passing weeks he had grown to know you as a workaholic, just like himself. With your coffee freshly poured you turned to exit.

“Would you mind if I joined you?” The words left his mouth so effortlessly, spilling out without giving himself time to process what exactly he’d asked.

“That’d be nice, I’d love the company.” Before his mind could spasm with embarrassment and explode with apologies for intruding, your reply stopped the thoughts dead in their tracks. Grabbing his items the two walked down the hall side by side. He no longer had to watch you leave.

The sounds of keys tapping, papers shuffling, and the occasional quiet sip of coffee filed the otherwise silent room. To compromise from your refusal before he sat in a swivel chair oppositely facing your own along with any papers not currently being worked on were to remain downward facing, as to keep some privacy. Though with his height, if he wanted to, he could easily look down at your screen. Even sitting Toshinori towered over you. Not that he would ever break the thin layer of trust you’d built together by peaking. The clock ticked on, minutes turned to hours and soon it was half past one. Yagi had finished his daily reports and scanning through his emails about an hour ago yet he could not bring himself to get up and leave. Instead he chose to sit and wait for you. The silence brought a sense of comfort. That was until a soft humming called his attention. The sound so smooth and airy if it hadn’t been for the dead quiet he would’ve lost it. Taking a quick glance down at you, still weary of possibly invading privacy, he noted your body language. Your eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration, yet your forefinger tapped to the same beat you hummed. It must’ve been absent minded. Not wanting to break your focus to ask the name of the song, as he did not recognize it, he instead gladly listened as your voice swelled and lowered to the beat your finger set.

“Alright and done” With one final mouse click you had finally finished for the night. “How are you doing over there Toshi?” Peaking over your screen you scanned his work area, everything had been stacked and paperclipped into neat piles. Looking from the stack up the man he meekly smiled down to you.

“Just finished” Not a complete lie, he had actually busied himself with organizing. Not something he typically ever had time to do, but a nice way to pass time and something his future self would be thankful for.

“Perfect, well, thank you for your company.” This was your dismissal of him, and as kindly as you worded it, it still gave him sinking disappointment. His body begged for him to say something to stall and give more time. He did not want to watch you leave, not yet.

“I'll walk you to your car if that’s okay.” Once again he found himself speaking without thinking. ‘What has gotten into me?’ He's never been this outspoken while in his weakened form.

“Oh that’s okay, I walked” This ignited a spark in him, he could feel the hidden inner All Might guiding his actions.

“It’s one in the morning and way too dangerous for you to walk home alone! Please allow me to go with you.” You were more than capable of handling yourself. Toshinori of course knew this, but it was always better to be safe than sorry. Especially with the spiked rate of crime recently. At least that was his excuse for the offer, instead of his true selfishness of wanting more human interaction. You contemplated the offer for a few seconds. For anyone else to ask such a thing you would’ve found it to be creepy, but from Yagi, your quiet but friendly late-night coworker, it felt nobel. Though you knew little to nothing about the tall blonde who sat in your office, he practically radiated a sense of safety and honesty. Like the first ray of sunshine peeking through the cloud after a storm. Besides, if he tried anything with malicious intent you’d deal with it swiftly. A small smile tugged at the edges of your lips as you caved and agreed to his offer.

As the two of you awaited the next elevator cart you sparked a small conversation, curious about the man who’d taken a bit of your interest.

“So Toshinori, tell me a little about yourself.”

“What would you like to know?”

“Well, for starters how long have you been working for the agency?”

“I’ve been here since the beginning.”

“The beginning as in the opening of the department?” Your eyebrow rose in suspicion while his furrowed. Nervously fiddled with the sleeve of his cuffed shirt he knew he was about to give away his age with this next admission. Already knowing there was a bit of a gap between the two of you he hoped you wouldn’t think of him as some old geezer.

“No, the beginning as in the opening of the agency. So about ten years.” Your eyes widened with a light gasp.

‘If he's truly been here for that long then he must be some higher up, a boss, most likely a department head or upper ranked manager. I hope I’ve made a good impression. This job is critical to my career.’ You thought. Taking notice of your shocked expression, his worries flooded.

“Are you friends with All Might or something?” You teased with a chuckle, hoping he’d laugh as well to quail your own insecurities. Finally the doors to the elevator opened awaiting its passengers. Walking inside you pressed the ground floor button. Thankfully missing the way his face dropped for a split second before quickly regaining his composure. He tried to laugh with you, sounding a bit forced but still managed to convince you. Now standing beside you he felt both relieved you hadn’t thought of his age but hearing the possible connection to All Might sent a shiver down his back.

“Something like that, I know him.” You once again felt intimidated at his words. You had meant it as a rhetorical question but hearing him admit he did in fact know All Might had your mind buzzing with curiosity. “But then again who doesn’t?” Visibly relaxing you knew you’d most definitely blown his words out of proportion. He was right, who didn’t know All Might? He was the world's number one, the best of the best.

‘Surely having worked for him for over a decade I’d hope he knew him.’ Again you pushed the little part of you that spewed anxiety down.

“Ya know, I’ve worked here for almost half a year and have yet to actually meet him. Though, I can't say I'm surprised, being the symbol of peace he must be unbelievably busy.”

‘You have no idea’ The fact that he had any downtime to even sleep was a miracle. Yet, here he was, spending those precious free moments to stand in this elevator and walk you home. In his eyes, it was time well spent even if his aching body begged for his bed.

“From what I’ve seen over the years, yes, his schedule is usually packed. But who knows maybe you’ll run into him one day.” He prayed it would be under pleasant circumstances. Most people who met his heroic form were in danger or in need of help. Another mental note was made to try and squeeze in time around the office as All Might, for morality's sake of course. You hummed at his statement, allowing the comfort of silence to once again fill the air. The ding of the elevator signaled it had reached its destination.

The walk was similar to your time together in the office, quiet, but never awkward, oddly relaxing. You had begun humming again, the same song from before. His curiosity grew, without the constraint of breaking focus he had to ask.

“What song is that?”

“Oh sorry, was I being annoying?” You felt your cheeks redden, you hadn’t realized you were humming aloud, It was something you did absentmindedly. Normally you could catch yourself but with the lack of sleep it must’ve slipped past the filter.

“No, no, you sounded great, but I don’t recognize the song. I just wanted to know what it was.” Toshinori felt his own embarrassment rise, he didn’t mean to come off as rude for asking, he simply wanted to have a conversation. Looking up at the man who towered over you, an eyebrow raised and your eyes glowed with excitement, their own curiosity flowing.

“Do you like classical music?” Pondering your question, Toshinori reminisced on his limited collection of music. Recently he preoccupied the otherwise tense silence of car rides with whatever was on the radio. Not paying it much attention, just something to fill the void. In his younger years he enjoyed light rock and the occasional new wave. The only time he could recall ever hearing anything related to classical was when attending mandatory formals.

“To be honest it’s not something I've ever really listened to, but I am open to giving it a try.”

You smiled up at him, “The song was La Boheme, maybe next time I'll play it for you” His heart picked up its pace, lightly hammering against his chest. You said ‘next time’, as in these office hangouts would be a recurring thing? He definitely would not mind that. In fact, he hoped you had meant it.

“Well this is my stop, thank you for walking with me Toshi. It was really thoughtful of you.”

“Of course” Standing on your doorstep you looked back at him, it felt wrong to leave him like this; out in the driveway, walking alone down the lamppost lit sidewalk. As if there was something else that needed to be done or said, strange. You watched as he waved goodbye and began walking away. Just for a few more moments before shaking away the odd feeling.

Your nighttime routine quickly evolved,it wasn’t everyday, but most that he found himself sitting across from you. Both whittling away at the never ending piles of papers. You’d happily hum a song as time ticked by and Toshinori listened. Sometimes he’d surprise you with a coffee from the break room, made a tad on the bitter side for your liking but you’d always drink it anyways. The gesture always had you smiling, to know such simple things made you giddy, had him wishing he could do more.

At the end of the long grind out of paperwork he would always walk you home, it truly made your heart soar as this was one of the sweetest things anyone had ever done for you. Even if you were a hero and would 100% be okay with walking the short fifteen minutes home, the fact that he did not know this and was willing to risk his own safety to protect you caused a warmth within your chest. Truly selfless, a quality all heroes should have. Your emotions ran high, each time growing fonder.

Walking into the office you felt as light as air, despite the still stinging scratch in your throat, nothing could bring you down. You had successfully infiltrated and apprehended an underground trading ring. As an up and coming hero having your first major headliner was no small feat. Opening the door to your office your eyes immediately landed on the still steaming cup of coffee resting on the desk with a sticky note attached to the side. The cup was not the cheap styrofoam from the break room, instead the cardboard had elegantly swirly floral patterns, it must have been from a cafe.

Peeling the note off it read,

‘Won’t be in, Have a great night (y/n) -Toshi’

Although you were a little disheartened at the fact your…friend would not be accompanying you tonight, the fact that he bought you a coffee sent your heart doubling in beats. As the sweet foamed top hit your lips you could not help but acknowledge the fact that Toshinori was truly a charming man. You’d have to thank him for this sometime.

It was an odd morning, the agency had decided to schedule you for night patrol as opposed to your normal daytime route. Being at the office within its peak business rush felt nauseating, you could handle the crowded streets at the crosswalks, reporters, and flocks of fans but the overcrowded elevators and lines out the door to reach the front desk had your heart palpitating.

Typically when walking in you’d be suited up, as you’d just finished patrolling, and any left over crowds would part like Moses to the sea for you. However as a regular appearing worker you were just another person clogging the flow. All you had to do was make it to your office then things would be normal again, or so you thought. Finally maneuvering out from the crowd you found relief at last. Sitting down with a huff at your swivel chair and opening the encrypted browser it hit you, what were you supposed to do? Typically in office you’d be filling reports from the patrol but seeing as though your schedule was flipped left you scrambling to fill time. You never thought you’d be cursing yourself for staying up to date on reports until now. The only thing to do was read through your emails and hopefully, well maybe not hopefully, get called out to the field early.

Your jaw nearly fell to the floor when opening your email. The glowing red notification bell chimed and a triple digit number filled the box. Closing the tab and reopening it you find that it was in fact not a glitch, that number was real. Scrolling through the unread emails your mind began fizzling with both pure excitement and dread. From cute to weird, hundreds of new and old fans congratulated you on your recent arrest. Even some lesser known newspaper outlets and beginner journalists had sent emails asking for interviews.

An email that stood out and had you grinning from ear to ear was from a mother and son. She said that her little boy had a quirk similar to yours and that he had ‘fallen in love’ with you. Attached was a video of him. His vibrant blond hair had been styled into an outlandishly tall spike atop his head, dazzling green eyes stared up into the camera. He could be no older than eleven.

“You’re the coolest hero ever, Siren! I want to be a hero just like you! YEEEAAAHHH” He held out a peace sign as his vocal quirk activated causing the camera to shake and wobble. Laughing and being sure to save the video onto your desktop you made a mental note to send a video response encouraging the boy once you were suited up.

Of course a few bad apples left you feeling a bit grossed out with their overly sexual comments, which were promptly blocked, yet your chest swelled with pride and devotion. With the first couple dozen email replies you tried to take time to appreciate their support. However as your finger typed then deleted and retyped again you felt at a loss for words. Staring at the bouncing line waiting for your text you felt restless. Yes, of course you wanted to pour your heart out to each and every one of them but the sheer number had you overwhelmed and flustered. Already sending over two hundred emails you eyed the clock and sighed with relief, it’s almost lunch time. Before you could look back down your eyes did a double take outside the sliver of a window was a towering figure walking. Quickly sliding out from behind your desk you dashed to the door and pulled it open, managed to catch the backside of the slender built man.

Were you really about to chase after him?

With feet thudding against the carpeted floor, not quite running but fast enough to try and catch up, you tailed after him.

Yes, yes you were.

Rounding the corner you felt like an ant as you were met with a bustling swarm of people, the room was ariot of voices all merging together to create a hive minded roar. Peering over their heads on your tippy toes you finally spotted your target. Thankfully he towered over the average person. You’d have to ask him exactly how tall he was, for now you needed to sift through the hoard to even talk to him.

“Excuse me” “Pardon” “Just trying to squeeze by” “Sorry”

“(Y/n)?” Stopping your struggle, you stopped dead in your tracks, finally, Toshinori stood a few feet away. Confusion clearly read across his face.

“Toshi!” You called, waving a hand out. Somehow the man was able to cut through the winding lanes of traffic with ease and soon he stood before you in silence, an eyebrow raised but a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Realizing he was waiting for an explanation as to why you had followed him your mind short circuited and snapped back to reality. Why exactly did you race after him again?

“I, uh, wanted to thank you for the coffee last night, that was really nice of you.” You felt like a bashful schoolgirl, a deer caught in the headlights, so shy and exposed. Even with your half thought out reasoning his hinted smile blossomed into a full teeth flaunting grin. A bony hand coming up to comb the spiked hair at his nape, a nervous habit he had yet to nix.

“It was no problem at all, really.” A moment of silence passed the two of you once again locked in a stalemate of bashful eye contact. Thinking on your feet an idea popped into your head.

“Would you like to grab some with me?” The tips of Toshinori’s ears and apples of his cheeks felt hot as a rush of blush spread over them. His ears heard the words yet his poor brain failed to understand their meaning, over analyzing and exaggerating the situation. Surely you weren’t asking him on a date, no, this was simply just to return his kindness. Not that he’d mind if it was, but if it was then wh-

“If you’re free, that is, I’m pretty much done with everything for now” You lied. Truth be told you desperately needed out of that office for if you read one more email your corneas would combust. Feeling rather awkward at his growing silence, your brain scrambled to make light of the situation. Knocked out of his own spiraling mind he regained his composure.

“Yeah sure, I was actually on my way out now.” He was not lying completely. His full truth was that he’d been on his way to get some much needed rest, he had been up all night tracking down a potential lead. Hurried and ready to return to his bed before exhaustion had him passing out on the way, he felt a second wind at your offer. Suddenly awake and well aware of his surroundings. “Where would you like to go?”

Your own mind pondered the depth of your offer. Did you just ask him on a date? Not necessarily, however if he wanted to think of it as one you were not opposed.

“I know a place.”

The walk was brief, just had to cross a few streets over. However, the violent whip of wind against your bodies had both of you shivering. Hastily trying to telepathically speed up the timer of the cross walk. Looking over to Toshinori you took pity on the thin male. His thin long nose was beat red and face pale aside from his cheeks which looked almost frostbitten. His hands rubbed together to try and generate some form of warmth. Shivers racked through his body, his coat and long-sleeved shirt did nothing to protect him from the unfortunate cold front that had swept through Japan. At any moment you expected him to sprout icicles. Winter was approaching with a vengeance. As an avid weather watcher you had been more than prepared for the front. With your winter coat, thick knit sweater and scarf you were faring much better. Just as another blast of wind threatened to reap the blonde's soul, a weight wrapped itself around his neck. Instantly warmth surrounded his frozen skin.

“Here, you look frozen solid” Looking down to you he watched as you stood on your tippy toes. Hands outstretched as you wrapped your scarf around him. A tender smile, the softness in your eyes coupled with the gesture had him astonished. You were so close. Bringing his own hands up he held the fabric, running his fingertips along the crocheted yarn. He felt his face warm up and not just from the scarf. He’s certain that if it wasn’t for the blood already pooling in his chilled skin he’d rival a tomato.

“Thank you (y/n)” You did not reply, instead you gave him a simple nod of reassurance. Your own cheeks turn a shade of crimson, surely just due to the cold. The signal at last changed and the couple briskly walked the last stretch.

A ‘place’ being a hole in the wall cafe located a few blocks away from the tower. Yagi never had a chance to frequent this shop as every time he was out and about it was either far too early or late and the cafe was closed. That or he was in a rush to get somewhere. Either way he just never could find the time. For you, this cafe was a home away from home. A place where you break your couple hour fast, also known as sleeping, from caffeine first thing in the morning.

Even though the staff only recognized you as Siren walking through the chiming door frame and having the delicious smell of black coffee with a hint of cigarette smoke still felt nostalgic.

“What can I get started for you?” The larger women behind the counter typically automatically rang up your order however, In civilian clothes and with a man you were unrecognizable. Though rough around the edges she was truly excellent at her craft.

“Good afternoon, I’ll have a medium brown sugar espresso please.” You started, glancing over at Toshinori awaiting his order. He bit lightly at the inside of his lip while scanning the menu. Truth be told he had no idea what he was looking at. Before meeting you he was always more of a tea drinker. Very few times had he dabbled in the world of coffee. The one he bought for you yesterday was a shot in the dark, completely at the barista's discretion.

“I’ll have the same.” You smiled up at him, you did not expect him to copy your order. You found it oddly adorable.

“Never hurts to try new things.” He sheepishly smiled back at you, the irony to be saying that over coffee given the recent enlightenment of feelings felt rather silly. Hopefully you hadn’t picked up on his hidden innuendo. However, the light blush on your cheeks and the way you quickly looked away in search of a table suggested otherwise. Picking a cozy table beside the window you attempted to calm your raging emotions. A light coating of frost coated the window, it was snowing. Taking a seat across from you, his long arms resting atop the table folding in on the other. His eyes scan the retro decor, taking everything in him not to stare at the women before him. The faint smell of your perfume and body wash wafted into his nose thanks to the scarf, which he found so fitting for you. Warm and inviting, cozy, he could drown in it. Allowing himself to steal a glance over to you, your eyes watched the small tv in the corner of the cafe. The older flatscreen showed one of the many local news channels.

Broadcasting was an overview of this week's crime report, “Several arrests have been made following the take down of a local drug trading ring at the hands of newcomer hero Siren. It is believed to be linked to a much larger operation; the case is currently still under police investigation.”

He saw the way your lips curled in a proud and determined grin as the reporter spoke of your accomplishment. His own mind felt the same. He had taken down thousands of villains yet the satisfaction of it never dulled. Seeing his fellow heroes succeed in chipping away at the tyranny of evil always made his chest swell with pride.

“She did an amazing job.” He stated, distracting you from the casting. Keeping your composure as to not give anything away you nodded in agreement. Even if he was complimenting you without realizing it you felt your heart hammering against your chest and suppressed giddiness bubbling.

A call of your name signaled your order was ready. Taking the coffees in hand you passed one to Toshi. He eyed it before taking a small sip.

“This is delicious!” He proclaimed, taking another gulp from the cup. Those few times he did try coffee had been less than pleasurable, even with the occasional splash of creamer. However, the lack of nose scrunching bitterness combined with the silky-smooth foam top had his mind soaring. You couldn’t help but giggle at the newly formed foam mustache that sat atop his thin lip. Subconsciously you had grabbed a napkin and began wiping it away. Upon realizing you had crudely invaded his personal space you quickly pulled your hand back.

“Sorry!”

Toshi once again felt heated, he could not catch a break from being flustered. He had not been touched by a woman in… He was vastly unprepared, almost intimidated at the intimacy. Your touch was tender and gentle against him. A sputtering cough wrecked through his body. Taking a napkin of his own he coughed into it for a few seconds before finishing wiping it away.

“No no, thank you. I didn’t even realize I’d made a mess.” He tried to sound confident, You responded with a nervous laugh, trying to push your own embarrassment aside.

“Ever considered growing a mustache?” He joined in your laughter. The sound of his lower baritone voice mingling with your higher pitch was music to your ears.

“Definitely not my style.” His style in question seemed to only consist of wearing clothing far too large for him and allowing his spiked blonde hair to go wild, yet somehow you still found it alluring. In its own messy Toshinori way.

“So” You paused, contemplating your next move. You’d never asked personal questions throughout all the endless nights of paperwork, keeping everything somewhat professional and surface level. Weather, the local news, or how the damned coffee maker in the breakroom sometimes spit grounds in the bottom of the pot. However, with the ever-growing flame between you two it only felt right to dig a little deeper now out of the confines of the office walls. His thin eyebrow rose, and his head tilted to the side. Stirring the contents of your own coffee cup you thought of a couple questions, again, nothing too deep yet nothing superficial.

“Do you have a quirk?” He sighed; a shot of fear ran down your spine. Had you crossed a line? Was that too personal? It seemed pretty standard in modern society to ask w-

“Unfortunately, no, I don't. Back then when I was younger it was a lot more common than it is today.” Once again, he found himself dancing around the truth. It was not a complete lie per se. “What about you?” Curious as to if you’d also white lie.

“Yes but, it’s really nothing to write home about.” Knowing that you wanted to keep your identity as Siren a secret he should not have pressed it any further, but his curiosity as to where you’d take the conversation compelled him to.

“What is it? Can I see?”

“Haha, you do know it’s illegal to use a quirk without a license.” Easy cop out, a way to evade his question without seeming suspicious. Smart.

“Alright alright, you got me there. What made you want to start working at the agency?”

“Helping people has always been a passion of mine, whether that meant becoming a hero or filling the paperwork. I’ve always been willing to do whatever it takes to protect those around me.” Another well worded reply as to not give away your true profession, Toshinori again felt a ping of pride radiate in his chest. Being a hero, he knew you had to be at least a little selfless but hearing the determination in your words and the glimmer in your eyes solidified that suspicion.

“I feel the same way. After all these years I’ve put into the office my biggest driving factor is that I'm helping others.”

The two heroes sat together until both cups were empty. Throwing away the now empty containers they began the trek back to the agency. This time you did not mind the push of the wind as it forced your bodies closer. You were so close, if he had the moxy he could reach out and hold your hand. It taunted him, every gust of strong air brought it closer and closer. Maybe if he was in his mighty form he would. But as Yagi Toshinori he felt far too shy. Part of you purposefully baited him, yet he did not take it.

‘interesting’

The days melted together as the weeks slowly ticked by. Your conjoined nightly routine meant the blond was starting to become a regular fixture in your life, not that you minded one bit. His company was always welcomed after a stressfully long patrol; it felt rejuvenating to sit down and relax while wrapping up the daily reports with him. He in turn felt the same. Of course it could not be every night but on the ones it was, both heroes felt the sparks of their blooming relationship burn.

That was until Thursday, the fourth day in a row of an empty office. It wasn’t uncommon for heroes to be out of the office for a few days, however he knew that you were not on any missions as he hadn’t assigned any. This worried him, had something happened? Initially he thought you were out on patrols, perhaps you had shifted to the night crew permanently. Looking at the schedule it was clear that was not the case. Did he scare you away at the coffee shop? He thought it had gone well, great even. Upon checking your profile he found his answer.

‘Injured in Recover. One week suspension’.

You’d been hurt fighting a group of thugs, not severely but enough to put you out of commission for a week. Yagi felt an immeasurable amount of guilt, seeing his fellow hero’s hurt always lit a fire inside him but you being hurt unleashed a whole new array of emotions.

‘But why? Why do I feel like this?’

Why did this make his hands shake and his emotions run rampant? Yes, he considered you were his friend by now, but he’d never felt this way. So raw, so charged, possessive even.

It scared him.

Monday was when he finally saw you again. It had been eight days since your injury, and you were finally cleared to come back to work.

When he initially recognized that it was you walking down the hallway a large smile graced his lips, ready to give you a warm hello. However, the way your head hung low and the bend in your posture caused it to slip away. You did not acknowledge him, you never even glanced up, instead you beelined it down the hall and made a swift turn towards your office; the door slamming shut behind you. This did nothing to quail his raging emotions, in fact it just added fuel to the inferno. He could practically feel the sadness radiating off of you. But he remained hopeful, perhaps you had a bad morning.

It was still early in the day, maybe he’d see you in the break room later gathering your usual coffee. It was not to be. He could however hear the buzz of chatter in the room. The way people openly discussed their theories on what happened to you. From an abusive relationship to villian attacks, the rumors spread like wildfire. His fist grew tight as he left the breakroom, having heard enough. He’d have to send a mass email to his department heads about workplace drama. This was absolutely unacceptable behavior.

He understood the embarrassment that came from being hurt better than anyone, as a hero you're supposed to be ‘invincible’, like nothing could possibly hurt you, yet it happened. It happened to him and he was undeniably the strongest hero of them all.

It had only been one year since his injury first occurred and all he ever wanted was for people to stop looking at him with pity, stop coddling him, stop bringing it up and just let him move on. So that’s what he intended to do with you.

As the clock struck midnight he had yet to see you emerge from your office, the only indicator that you were inside was the sliver of light escaping from under the door. The small window had been drawn closed. As he rounded the corner to check once more the sound of violins and symphony caught his attention. Only loud enough to escape under the door it still caught his attention.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked. Receiving no answer he contemplated leaving, giving you the space you seemed to demand. But, the pit in his stomach demanded to at least check on you. He had to, needed to know if you were okay. He knocked again.

“(y/n)? It’s Toshi.” The music stopped. His breath caught in the back of his throat, until finally the door opened. Standing in the half-cracked entryway you finally made eye contact with him. Finally seeing you face to face again he felt fury flow through his veins. Your lip was bruised a deep purple and split down the side, your cheek did not fare much better matching in shade and your once vibrant eyes seemed dull and puffy. He’d both seen and had worse but seeing those marks on you made his heart sink and hands wad up in a white knuckles fist. He released the stuck air, reminding himself of what he would want in this situation and pushed his concern down “Mind if I join you?”

When you first heard the knock on the door you wanted to ignore it, let whoever was there to piss off, for surely it was another coworker asking questions about your injuries. All day that’s all you heard, whispers and talks about your appearance. If you saw another pamphlet from the local health department on domestic abuse slid under your door you would actually have a meltdown. It was demoralizing and utterly humiliating. You are a hero; you're not supposed to be so weak. Your whole job is to protect the weak.

However, hearing Toshinori call from the other side made the once dampened spark of happiness light up inside you. Testing the waters to gauge his reaction you opened the door. Seeing him have little to no facial reaction and hearing his question made your tense posture slightly relax. He simply wanted to work with you again.

You opened the door wider for him to step in, like all the times before he sat his laptop across from yours and sat oppositely. You slowly took your usual seat body tense. He noticed the way you flinched when bending to sit, you must be bruised elsewhere as well. Instead of bringing up his concerns he chose to ask something else.

“Could you turn the music back on? It sounded nice.” Your eyebrows raised, looking at him for a second before hitting the play button on your phone. Music filled the quiet room. A soft solo with supporting instruments brought a sense of serenity to the air, melting away the thick tension. Toshinori had hoped to hear you hum to the beat, though unfortunately you did not. Truth be told he just wanted to hear your voice, you had yet to say anything to him. However, he did not want to push for anything more, you were clearly under a lot of emotional conflict and stress. He was simply happy to see you again.

Instead, he allowed the swell and flow of the music to fill his mind.

Your throat felt unbearably dry, definitely an improvement from last week but still the burning sensation had you reaching into your desk drawer for another cough drop. Toshinori couldn’t keep his eyes from wandering down at the contents, lozenges, throat sprays, syrups and tea packets overflowed the wooden drawer. Glancing over to the wastebasket, it was filled with handfuls of wrappers, a few used tea bags and crumpled pamphlets.

You caught his eyes, the way they glanced between the drawer, the trash and finally to yourself. Yet, he did not say anything. As if having enough over the counter numbing spray to stock a pharmacy was normal. You squinted at him, analyzing, searching for a reaction to which there was none. Taking a small sticky note out of your pocket you quickly scribbled a message down and slid it over to his side of the desk.

Looking down at the note Yagi smiled.

‘The name of the song is A time for us - Nina Rota’

Taking his pen he wrote his response and passed it back.

‘The violin solo was pretty. What is the name of the other instrument?’

‘It’s an oboe, a double reeded woodwind instrument.’

He had never heard of such an instrument. The night was spent filing paperwork and passing notes recapping each song that played. A pile of sticky notes now collected on each side. He never questioned aloud your use of notes instead of actual spoken conversation, he was smart enough to put the pieces together. A vocal quirk and that amount of medication must have meant overuse of it results in lack or hindrance in speech.

Your final report was sent, and with that your last sticky note was sent his way. A small blush dusted your cheeks as you pushed it into his awaiting hand.

‘Walk me home?’

After reading the note a large genuine smile stretched up to his hallowed cheek bones. In that moment time felt as though it slowed down, just for a few seconds. With the lack of collagen and much body fat he’d seem somewhat unappealing to some, however taking a genuine look at the man before you, things started popping out like they never had before. The way his messy blond hair framed his prominent sunken cheekbones, you subconsciously wondered if it was as soft as it looked. How deep his cerulean eyes truly went, so much admiration and kindness swam within them as he looked down at you, they almost appeared to be glowing. Did he look at all his friends like this? The note being slid back broke your daze.

‘I’d love to’ You could not help the explosion of blush that spanned from your cheeks to your neck. Quickly gathering your items, you tried to hide from the blond. What has gotten into you? What had provoked such intimate thoughts?

Were you…

Developing a crush?

Nonsense, Toshinori was simply a friend of yours. A friend that you enjoyed spending time with, a friend that did not judge you, a friend that had your palms feeling sweaty and your head airy with just a smile. A friend that you had just wondered if their hair was soft or if they looked at you in a special way… Yeah, just a friend.

Your body betrayed your mind on the walk back to your house. Just like at the coffee shop you found yourself standing closer than usual, absentmindedly seeking him out. Never close enough to accidentally touch, but if either of you wanted to you could easily reach out. Almost but not quite. If he noticed he said nothing, allowing you to walk as close or as far as you wanted.

When the walk came to a close and he turned to leave, you could not help but reach for him. Toshinori was shocked, your hand was gripping his white sleeve. Unsure of what to say he turned back to face you, head leaned slightly down to study your expression. Wanting to question if you were alright, if there was something wrong, however the words never came to fruition. Eyes locked together in a silent stalemate you felt alive, energetic even, in a bold and impulsive move you sent yourself forward. Arms outstretched, to embrace the lean man with your head crashing against his chest.

Body overcoming the mind.

Time felt stagnant in that moment, despite his initial shock his own body took charge, as his longer arms fell around your waist bringing you closer. Craning his neck down to rest atop your head to fully envelope you. He reciprocated the physical affection full heartedly. The scent of your perfume and shampoo nuzzling his senses once again. Oh how he had missed it, the scarf you lent him weeks ago had long since lost the scent. The softness of your hair, the way you fit so perfectly against him, and the overwhelming sense of tranquility was intoxicating.

Hugs did not have to be inherently romantic, as he hugged his adoring fans frequently but this time it felt different. Intimate. Harmonious.

The two remained silent, reveling in the warmth that grew between your met bodies. Emotions ran rampant yet neither felt embarrassed.

Lifting your heads, eyes again looked into each other, the emotional doors were clearly open for the other to see. Longing, want, and adoration swam in both sets. The distance between slowly decreased, eyes still open, never detaching. No thoughts, only actions.

You both wanted more, to stand with the other a little longer, to allow the space between to completely close. However a buzz from his phone signaled the moment was over. Realizing the situation you both pulled away, faces a glaze and radiating heat. Neither one made apologies, however the air felt bogged down with words unspoken. Closing his eyes he sighed. Relaxing a bit before opening them again he looked back down to you with a smile, cheeks still rosy.

“Goodnight (y/n)”

“Goodnight Toshi.” Returning the grin you turned on your heels and headed up the driveway. The same guilty feeling from the first night returned.

Your relationship had changed forever that night.

Was this a good change? You were not sure, but one thing was for certain, it felt right and You wanted more. Of all the people that bowed at your feet, drooled at your magazine covers and begged for your affection, the one that managed to catch your attention was a quiet man shrouded in mystery and clothing three times his size from the office.

‘What the hell am I getting myself into?’

That night Toshinori sat atop a roof, peering over the city. He should’ve called it a night long ago however, his mind was in disarray with thoughts.

‘What am I doing with her?’

All the hours of sitting inside your office he had convinced himself he purly wanted a friendship. Just someone to occasionally talk with to quench his selfish need for human interaction. All these feelings were out of concern for a friend, simply being nice. However after tonight his resolve was faltering. Maybe the hug was out of solace, a way for you to find comfort after a rough week. Possibly. However the more he reminisced on his own feelings and the way you looked at him had that solution increasingly incorrect. He recognized the eyes of someone enamored, people looked to him with such eyes daily in his Mighty form daily but, never as his weak regular self.

The feelings he had not even realized he suppressed bursted out of him. He could deny them no longer. He wanted to be more than a friend with you. But, could he allow himself that? Could he really go through with this?

Back on patrol you finally felt like your old self again, fully healed and ready to be back in on the action. Taking the information you had gathered from the thugs you set your sights on getting to the bottom of this rabbit hole. The men were simple guards, goons, middle of the food chain. What you wanted was their employer, the top. Based on the information they’d spilled and the matching tattoos on their bodies you were clearly dealing with a deep rooted ring. Well-established and on the rise if they could afford to hire people with half decent quirks and fighting skills. Not to mention this would be the third established branch you’d snuffed out. One man kept mentioning an abandoned building, that must’ve been their headquarters, with a distinctive graffitied symbol the same as their tattoos on the door. Walking down the damp alleyways closer to where you apprehended the suspects you stuck close to the walls and quieted your footsteps. Scoping out the building you find five men standing post outside.

‘Must’ve stirred the hornet's nest’ you thought. This could be difficult. You had to be strategic about this, fighting five on one was not optimal. As a licensed hero you could not engage unless they were actively committing a crime. Just had to find evidence of illegal activity and another way in. A broken window on the second floor gave you an opening.

Controlling the frequency of your voice you produced an infrasonic sound wave to propel you onto a nearby building. The pitch was far too low for the natural human ear to pick up. Latching onto the wall you waited for the men to turn their backs, just for a second then strategically propelled yourself again, gliding through the air, you aimed yourself for the window. Successfully landing within the confines of the building with a light thud. Sweeping a look at your surroundings you analyzed the situation, luckily no one was on the floor. Hearing loud thumps race up the stairwell you darted out of sight.

“I heard something. Didn’t you?” Two more men emerged, taking a quick profile of them. You determined one was young, far too young to be in a place like this, while the other was far older, perhaps a mentor of some kind. You calmed yourself, huddling closer to the stacks of boxes you took shelter behind.

“Stupid boy, there is nothing here.” The older man swung on the boy, a solid smack to the back of his head had him stumbling forward. Landing right beside your hiding place his face lifted from the creaking wood floor. For a brief second the two of you made eye contact. Wild eyes widening in fear and mouth agape ready to scream you thought on your feet. Breathed in, focusing on the boy you whispered a command.

“Quietly leave”

The sound waves penetrated his ears as it was made only for them. His mouth shut and eyes glazed over devoid of emotion. In a fugue state he stood up, turned to the older man without acknowledgment and began walking back down the stairs.

This was your special move, how you got the name Siren in the first place. ‘The command’ as you dubbed it could only be heard by its intended target as you directed the waves directly through their canals forcing their eardrums to verberate. As long as the frequency of the pitch was just right and the subject could understand your words their mind felt compelled to follow. A hypnotized state. Your ultimate trump card to get out of any sticky situation. Though you always paid the price with each use. Your throat felt raw and scratchy. Sighing you pulled out a small bottle of spray from your utility pouch and coated your throat. The medication managed to subdue the burn for now.

Moving down the stairs, the room before you confirmed the suspicion. Tables piled high with stacks of wrapped substances, presumably drugs, with several men including the two from before taking from the stacks to packaging them into small shipping containers and stacking them onto a pallet. Several guards watching the men work, occasional barking orders with threats of punishment should they not comply.

You had to find a way to take them out without destroying too much of the evidence. With the state of your throat it wouldn’t be possible to unleash a full screech without ending up like last time. Knowing this could get sticky you clicked the side of your ear piece. A signal was sent out to other members of the agency.

All Might’s phone buzzed, looking down to the small device his thick eyebrows furrowed, causing deep creases to shadow over his gaze.

‘Siren - Stand By - Location Attached. Video Attached’

This was a non-emergency broadcast, a precaution set in place as a ‘just in case’. It was not uncommon for his contracted heroes to send signals like this, in fact it was promoted, should the situation get out of hand back up already had been alerted. However, seeing the signal from you put a bad taste in his mouth. His intuition bell rang. All complicated feelings aside, given your recent accident and being fresh off of recovery, he chose to make his way over.

He’s thankful he did.

The dilapidated building arose with commotion, bursts of flames spewed from the doorway and thunderous yells echoed into the alleyway. Bullets flew freely and ricocheted off the brick.

Unfortunately, you had only managed to take out four guards before being spotted, the ensuing firefight had you pinned against a wall for cover. The workers with heads ducked down and looks of pure terror had scrambled to escape once the battle began. The last guard inside possessed a pyro quirk. His haphazardly thrown fireballs had the shabby wooden wall you hid behind beginning to crumble. Seeing as though most of the evidence was burning to ashes a sound wave could help extinguish and knock out the man. Just had to time it in between attacks and be wary not to over do it again.

Capering out from behind the wall you took in a deep gulp of air, full of ash from the fire the air burned your lungs. Your mouth opened, and a haunting screech howled through the air. The fires extinguished and the man was sent flying through the front door.

Still cautious of the guards outside you carefully peaked around the doorframe, only to find all five bound together. The man who you’d successfully blasted lay in a groaning heap before them. His head surly buzzed as earrings rang. Stepping outside, the sun had begun dipping below the towering building painting the sky a muted marmalade. Sweeping the area your breath caught in the back of your throat in a gasp despite the ever-growing pain.

All Might stood before you, his smile wide across his chiseled face as he tied the final knot around the men. The remaining sunlight streaked out from the space between buildings painting the already vibrant man in a brilliance of light. “I’ve dispatched these evil doers. How many more are inside?”

In all the months you had been working at his agency you had yet to meet the man himself. To finally meet him in response to your direct signal had you giddy and awe-inspired. All Might rose to fame while you were in your late teens. You had watched him even in his early days in America as he swiftly became the world's number one hero. A true hero. Your hero. He was who pushed you to try harder in your early years. Through the toughest courses as UA to the years of side kicking he made you truly strive for the top. To push yourself above and beyond ‘Plus Ultra’!

“All men inside are taken care of” Pushing past the burn in your throat you swallowed back your saliva and mustered a reply through strained vocal cords.

“Great work Siren! I’ve already alerted the authorities. They should be here soon.” Together the two of you drug out the rest of the thugs from inside.

Paparazzi, reporters and fans gathered at the alleyway entrance, curious to get a glimpse of the action. With any heroic arrest or commotion they flocked. However, with All Might making an appearance they came in droves. A police barricade pushed the swarm back however sooner or later you’d have to entertain them.

A million cameras flashed and a thousand questions asked as the two heroes stood together taking the brunt of the media assault. Both you and All Might gave short brief answers to the first few questions until a woman holding a giant lensed camera pushed herself to the front announcing she was from The Musutaful Times, the most prestigious paper around, and would like a photo.

“Of course!” Before you could think, All Might's muscular arm draped around your shoulders and pulled you against his hulking body. His smile widened and his opposite hand's thumb stuck out. He stole a glance down at you, through your mask you looked at him. Seering cerulean blue locked onto you, even with the barrier it felt as though he could look through it. The moment lasted less than a second, yet it sent a shiver down your spine with a heatwave of blush rushing across your cheeks. A lopsided smile stretched across your own face as the camera flashed.

In the blinding blitz of it all you had failed to realize the fire-quirked villain had burned through his rope restraints. The rest of his gang had already been loaded up into cars leaving him the last one standing.

“You’ve ruined everything!” In a fit of retaliation, he summoned a blazing ball of fire and launched it directly at you. Quick on your feet you attempted to dodge the attack aimed at your head, however the smoldering projectile managed to graze over your face. Scorching your mask. Shaking off the initial attack you readied yourself to attack. A loud smash and burst of dusty air signaled the fight was once again over. All Might had stopped it, but what he could not stop was the flash of the cameras and the shocked gasps from the crowd as your mask fell into melted pieces. Your face was on full display. Horrified you backed away, terrified of the once adoring crowd.

“Come on” Strong arms grabbed you from behind. In an instant the ground fell away and became distant.

#fanfic #all might #all might x reader #mha all might #mha all might x reader #toshinori yagi x you #yagi toshinori #yagi toshinori x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha x reader #bnha fanfiction #all might fluff #yagi toshinori fluff

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dragoneyes618 · 4 months

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The expression "like lambs to the slaughter" is taken from a verse in Psalms (44:23; see also Isaiah 53:7) in which the psalmist describes Jews dying for God's sake, and beseeches God not to hide His face from the Jews' affliction. These very words had been cited years earlier, when poet Abba Kovner called on his fellow Vilna Jews to revolt: "We will not be led like sheep to the slaughter....Brothers! It is better to die fighting like free men than to live at the mercy of the murderers. Arise! Arise [and fight] with your last breath!" (January 1, 1942).

While a significant number of Jews did rebel, there are several reasons why the overwhelming majority did not. The most important reason is that almost no Jews had weapons, and arms and legs are of little utility against machine guns and an organized army. (Indeed, while most American Jews support gun-control laws, the few Jews I know who oppose them invariably argue that had European Jewry been armed, many more Jews might have survived.) Few people realize that because of their lack of arms, almost none of the several million prisoners taken by the Germans fought back, including several million Russian soldiers, a large percentage of whom died in Nazi camps.

There was also a moral reason for the relatively low number of revolts: The Jews knew that other Jews would be the ultimate victims of any act of rebellion, even a successful one: The Germans would murder them in retaliation. A prominent Jewish philosopher has articulated the moral dilemma that would-be resisters confronted:

"Was it morally right to kill an SS officer if, as a consequence, hundreds and even thousands of men, women, and children would perish immediately?" - Eliezer Berkovitz (1910-1993), Faith After the Holocaust, page 30

In one notable case, Jewish fighters attacked a German police detachment in the old Jewish quarter of Amsterdam; the German response was terrible:

"Four hundred and thirty Jews were arrested in reprisal and they were literally tortured to death, first in Buchenwald and then in the Austrian camp of Mauthausen. For months on end they died a thousand deaths, and every single one of them would have envied his brethren in Auschwitz, and even in Riga and Minsk. There exist many things considerably worse than death, and the SS saw to it that none of them was ever very far from their victims' minds and imagination."

- K Shabbetai, As Sheep to the Slaughter? The Myth of Cowardice. The survivors' sensitivity to charges of cowardice is underscored by the fact that Shabbetai's book was published by the World Federation of Bergen-Belsen Survivors' Association.

Yet many instances of Jewish resistance did still occur, the most famous in the Warsaw Ghetto:

"The dream of my life has become true. Jewish self-defense in the Warsaw Ghetto has become a fact. Jewish armed resistance and retaliation have become a reality. I have been witness to the magnificent heroic struggle of the Jewish fighters."

- Mordechai Anielewicz, April 23, 1943, four days after the outbreak of the Warsaw Ghetto revolt, in a note to Yitzchak Zuckerman, a unit commander in the revolt

Only twenty-four years old when he helped organize the Warsaw Ghetto revolt, Anielewicz realized that the Germans intended to deport and murder every remaining Jew in Warsaw. The revilt was triggered by word that yet another Nazi deportation was imminent.

The Warsaw Ghetto fighters held out for about a month, longer than the Polish army withstood the 1939 Nazi invasion.

Yitzchak Zuckerman, the heroic unit commander to whom Anielewicz addressed the above note, was among the few Warsaw Ghetto fighters who survived the war. Some forty years later, he was interviewed by Claude Lanzmann for the movie Shoah:

"I began drinking after the war. It was very difficult....You asked my impression. If you could lick my heart, it would poison you."

Despite the Warsaw Ghetto revolt and other acts of resistance, during the 1961 Eichmann trial it became fashionable among some Jews and non-Jews alike to express shock and a certain contempt for those Jews who "failed to resist." Elie Wiesel responded:

"The Talmud teaches man never to judge his friend until he has been in his place. But, for the world, the Jews are not friends. They have never been. Because they had no friends they are dead. So learn to be silent."

- Elie Wiesel, "A Plea for the Dead"

- Jewish Wisdom, Rabbi Joseph Telushkin, pages 532-535

#history #jewish history #the holocaust #holocaust #world war ii #elie wiesel #jews #jumblr #antisemitism

72 notes · View notes

holykratos · 1 year

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Professor’s Dilemma

Leon Kennedy/Reader

Summary: Based off an AI audio on TikTok ;) reader’s phone is going off during class, taking pictures of Professor Kennedy without his permission. The ringing is incessant, and Kennedy’s patience can only last so long. (ib: @/xkeiira on tt!)

Warnings: Smut, Rough, 18+ (I know none of yall abide by that but think abt it <3), deepthroating, penetration, degradation, slight humiliation, slight (but not really) unconsensual touching, slight hate sex (but also not really)

(Y/N)’s first day of university was supposed to be all glimmer and shines—almost Elle Wood’s esque, at least in her imagination. The campus dazzled passerby’s like a shiny ring, and students could only marvel at the very buildings they were able to step into everyday. Her expectations were extremely high, and she set her expectations on her professors even higher.

Her eyes scanned across her bland schedule sheet, skimming every class with disinterested. ‘Thompson on English 101, Ford on Communications 113, Kennedy on Criminology 111…’ She thought to herself, head tilting in slight amusement and boredom. College was incredibly important to her, yes, but her schedule for today wasn’t interesting. She lamented over English for days, dreading to her roommates about her professor from hell whom had already assigned essay’s on the first week. Communications was okay—besides the communicating part, she couldn’t complain. Criminology was slightly new: she was aware that another professor had switched in recently, hence making the start of the class later. Originally, she was to start a week ago, but it was offset by the large—and apparently sudden—change.

She groaned haughtily, staring at her watch with disdain. It was 11:00–15 minutes from Kennedy’s first class. She stood up slowly, stretching her bones and shining a small smile to the science building ahead. “Alright, criminology, let’s give this a go…” She whispered, smirking mischievously at the students flooding into the building.

As everyone sat down, (Y/N) grew incredibly anxious. Her Professor was to arrive 5 minutes ago—the lecture was 2 hours long, and she’d immensely prefer to not be late for her daily nap session. Just as she was about to grab her books and ditch the first day, the two wooden doors of the classroom slowly bleared. The creaked and groaned with the weight of a push, a muscular arm protruding from the doorwar. A man slowly sauntered in, large duffel bag in hand and a plain baby blue button-up shirt on. His dirty blonde locks swayed in the wind, tussling along his slightly glistening forehead. (Y/N) was no less than mesmerized, staring into his cold blue eyes that held nothing but discomfort but determination. She could tell he was nervous, but ready to educate nontheless. ‘What a sweet man,’ She thought offhandedly, smiling softly as she watched his arms flex under his bag.

He reached his post, setting his bag down and clearing his throat. “Good morning everyone, my name is Leon Kennedy. I am a previous police officer, as well as a retired DSO agent. I’ve been active in the force generally for more than 20 years-“

A hand raised.

Leon stared perplexed, wondering how a student could already have a question. He pointed towards the girl, dressed in plaid and cheap hairpins, he noted cruelly. “How old are you, sir?”

He grimaced at the title, smiling slightly in discomfort. “I’m 40, and Professor Kennedy is fine. Anyways, I-“

Another hand.

He sighed, pointing to a man in the back, an excited smile on the latter’s face. “Are you married, Professor Kennedy?!”

He groaned, slapping a palm on the side of his face in annoyance. He’d only been speaking for 30 seconds, how could they fire these now? “No, I’m not—but this isn’t exactly an appropriate question now, is it?”

The student shook his head, a small smirk on his face regardless. Kennedy cleared his throat once more, serving a restrained smile to the students. “Now, as I was saying-“

Ping.

Kennedy was about to snap.

He turned over angrily to the recipient of the message, staring at a woman with beautiful, silky hair, textured and defined in it’s own way. He stopped for a moment, staring into the girl’s eyes—she was nervous, understanding that she’d been caught with her phone out. His breath hitched slightly at her parted lips, and he turned away quickly, grasping his jaw in shame. ‘Am I still in puberty or somethin’?’ He thought, grimacing at the thought. He turned back around, a small glare on his face. “Turn the phone off—I better not see it again.” He ordered, staring at her as she embarrassingly shut off her phone, slowly shoving it into her bag.

Kennedy was able to get 15 more minutes into the lecture before he heard a small snap, and a phone ping once more. He froze, turning to the girl from earlier. (Y/N), he noted from his attendance sheet, a small frown forming on his face. “Hey, phone off. What did I say earlier?” He said in a disappointed tone, almost like an unapproving father.

“Sorry, Professor Kennedy…” She apologized softly, tucking her phone into her bag once more. He shivered at her words, unexpectedly reacting to the mention of his title quite well. It sounded different coming from her—more alluring, more telling. He shook his head, turning back to the board and furrowing his brows. ‘Ignore her, she’s a student…’ His brows furrowed harder, the chalk in his hand smashing into bits from his built up annoyance—not only at the girl, but at himself. He sighed, grabbing another piece of chalk and writing messily on the board.

Another 20 minutes passed of peace and lecture, before one last ring was caught. And this time, she was caught mid message, a hand slamming down onto her text almost seconds after the initial ring. He glared at her deeply, veins protruding on his forehead from anger. “Everyone’s dismissed—out, now.” He called angrily, scanning the room as students stood in bewilderment, slowly flooding out of the room. (Y/N) slowly rose from her own seat, slowly gripping her bag before a hand placed itself on her shoulder, a small growl leaving the professor’s throat. “Not you, you stay.”

She gulped nervously, sitting down silently in her seat. When all of the students slowly left, Kennedy beconned her over to his desk, motioning to the seat in front of it. She took a seat, fiddling with the straps on her bag in anxiety. “I-I’m really sorry, Professor Kennedy, it was an emergency and—“

“Shut it.”

This ceased all conversation for a moment as Kennedy tacked at his keyboard, pulling up her file and information. “(Y/N) (L/N), 20, science major…” He read out slowly, scanning his eyes down the entirety of the file. She quirked a brow at him, unsure of why he would be searching her so fervently—and in front of her. “Okay, show me your phone. Let’s see this emergency, shall we?”

(Y/N) froze, a heavy blush forming on her face. “W-What? My phone? I-I can’t show you, it’s personal!” She nervously stuttered, looking away from the man and his domineering aura.

“No, look at me. Let me see your phone, or I’ll fail you for your first day.” He said strictly, reaching a hand out and grabbing her chin, pulling it towards him. “Now, give it to me.”

She frowned, eyes downturned towards her phone. She sighed, unlocking it and pulling up the messages. ‘This might be the most embarrassing of thing I’ve done,’ She thought anxiously, foot tapping against the floor.

He sighed, an accomplished smile forming on his face as he scanned through the messages. This face slowly morphed into one of embarrassment, shame, and heavy—heavy lust. In her messages contained multiple pictures of his backside and front, with replies such as “I’d hit that”, “You think he’d pull my hair?” and “I want him to leave me unable to walk” with various emojis. His face glowed a bright red, clearing his throat in shame as he set his phone down. His pants were becoming incredibly tight, and he couldn’t bear the restriction any longer, an evil thought brewing in his mind. He smirked at her, slowly handing her the phone, brushing his fingers over hers purposefully. “Y’know, I should report you for this—this behavior isn’t normal, and to take pictures of me without my consent is almost abhorrent.”

She frowned, small tears forming at the corners of her eyes. ‘What a baby…’ He thought with a malicious smirk, eyes glinting as he watched droplets fall from her beautiful eyes. ‘She’d look better crying on my cock.’ “I’m so sorry, Professor—I swear, I’ll take any punishment you give, I really am sorry.” She turned her head towards her lap, tears still dripping from her eyes.

The chair ruffled, and Leon sat up properly, patting his thigh. “C’mere—since you wanna take picture so bad.”

She slowly stood, perplexed but body warming as she approached. He grabbed her hands, softly rubbing his thumb along her knuckles almost lovingly. He smirked up at her confused eyes, standing for a moment to push her down to her knees. He grabbed her phone, sliding open the camera app and setting it down as he unbuckled his belt, much to her surprise.

“W-Wait, professor-“

“Shut up. Unless you want to be on academic probation your first year, you’re gonna sit pretty, understand?”

She gulped, face flaming in embarrassment and arousal. Though she was incredibly nervous, she couldn’t deny she didn’t want this. It was her end goal, truly, but she didn’t expect it to happen so quickly. She inched her own hands forward, fiddling with his button and zipper. She released them slowly—teasingly—as she stared at him with a sultry expression, eyes twinkling in mischief. “Alright, professor—let’s make a movie then.” She teased, sliding her tongue along the outside of his boxers. He groaned, fingers maneuvering into her hair, gripping as she pressed light kisses against his covered shaft.

“Stop teasing, you slut,” He growled, pressing her face against his bulge. “Suck it—after all, you wanted my punishments so badly. Do it properly, or else.” He stated strictly, eyes lidded and face red as he kept grinding her face against his bulge. She pulled back slowly, hands still kept on her scalp, pulling his boxers down. His cock sprang free, bouncing slightly against his covered chest. Pre-cum stained his baby blue button-up, soaking through the fabric almost immediately. He hissed at the sudden cold air, a smirk forming. “Cmon now, baby, suck.”

She nodded, almost mesmerized, slowly wrapping her lips around the tip of his cock. She suckled the head, lips and tongue wrapping around the start of the shaft as she slowly worked her way down. Kennedy groaned, hands gripping her hair tightly as he resisted the urge to fully face throttle her. He wanted to enjoy her little licks and teases so he could pay her back tenfold, but he couldn’t bring himself to—not when he’d already been teased for so long (5 minutes). He chuckled, hands gripping her hair tightly and shoving her head down, moaning loudly as she gagged and choked against his cock. Her arms flailed, finding purchase on his thighs and squeezing harshly on his bare skin. He moaned louder as he quickly rocked her head, tears almost filling his eyes at the intensity.

“Fuck, baby, your mouth’s so good—shit.” He cursed, pushing her head down closer to his shaft. She reached the bottom, gagging and choking as her hands slowly lifted to touch his balls. She sucked desperately—whatever she could reach—and moaned as he continuously shoved her head down. She adored the rough treatment, and could only wait patiently as she prepared mentally for the main event. Her core throbbed and her pussy grew incredibly wet, soaking through her underwear. She groaned as she felt a shoe lift underneath her, the tip of a brown martin rubbing against her lips. She squealed against his cock, feeling his shoe rub back and forth, a deep chuckle leaving his lips in response. “Yeah? You like that? Like my dirty shoe rubbing against your pussy?” He laughed, shoving her head down harder onto his cock. He bobbed her head harder, loud moans leaving his mouth as he came closer to cumming. “Fuck, you’re such a dirty whore—my dirty whore.” He moaned out, saliva dripping down the corner of his mouth. He thrusted a few more times before thrusting into her throat hard, holding her head flat against his pelvis. She choked and sputtered, smacking at his thighs as his cum flooded her throat.

She pulled back immediately as he let go, coughing and hacking. The cum in her mouth saturated on her tongue, and she grimaced, ready to spit it out when a strong hand gripped her jaw. She whined, turning towards Leon with her mouth wide open. He gazed at her cum soaked tongue, smiling devilishly. “Swallow it, now. Don’t waste a drop.” He chided, eyes lidded in enjoyment. He spit onto her tongue in addition, tapping her cheek, signaling for her to close and swallow.

She shamefully closed her mouth, swallowing the various liquids in her mouth. She groaned as the salty tastes cascaded against her taste buds, eyes crinkling in disgust. “Salty…” She whispered, rubbing her mouth of the sweat and extra cum. Kennedy only laughed, pulling her to her feet and slowly pulling off her shirt.

“Lift your arms baby, let me see you.” He whispered softly, smiling as she relented and allowed him to remove her shirt. He immediately moved to her bra, embracing her momentarily to reach around. She almost moaned as she felt his bare and slowly hardening cock press against her, and she swore to herself she couldn’t handle waiting any longer. But, it wasn’t worth pissing him off and not getting dicked down at all.

Once her bra was removed, he repositioned them, slowly laying her down onto his desk. He frivolously swiped his arm across the desk, moving a lamp and stacks of papers. She laid down, back aching as she tried positioning herself correctly. Leon wasted no time in undressing her fully, pulling down her pants as soon as she was laid down. He trailed his fingers along her neck, moving to her chest and circling her pebbled nipples. She moaned as he prodded and pinched, a smirk plastered on his face the entire time. “Smug bastard…” She mumbled, moaning as he pinched incredibly hard. “Fuck!”

“Say that again, slut.” He squeezed again, leaning down and taking the other one into his mouth with a harsh suck. “Insult me again—I dare you.”

She kept quiet, moaning as he placed kisses and suckled on her chest and sensitive parts of her neck, slowly trailing down to her panties which he hadn’t removed. His fingers delicately danced around her pelvis, drawing circles on her inner thighs and slowly onto her lips. She gasped, feeling the cold panties press against her. Her core throbbed harder, muscles spasming as immense pleasure filled her. “Sensitive from just a few touches—you’re so cute, baby.” He mocked, pressing kisses to her panties. She moaned loudly as his lips made contact with her covered pussy, eyes shooting open in pleasure.

“F-Fuck… more, please, Professor,” She pleaded, wrapping a hand into his hair and tugging softly. He chuckled, teeth grabbing onto her panties and slowly pulling down. He tugged all the way to her knees, using his hands to finish the rest.

“I want you to be good for me baby—I’m not gonna let you off easy, so just be good and there will be no punishment after, okay?” He smiled softly, stroking her cheek gently. ‘After…?’ She thought excitedly, nodding almost too eagerly.

“Yes, Professor,” She whispered in a sultry tone, leaning up to match the height to his face. She placed small kisses at the corner of his mouth, reaching them towards his neck and ear. He moaned softly, breathing heavily in her ear as she continued her ministrations. He grew tired, resistance faltering, and he couldn’t bear not being inside of her any longer. Preparation be damned—she’d be made to take him. She felt the tip prod at her entrance, and she squealed, slightly drawing back in surprise. “W-Wait, won’t fit—“ She tried to plead, but her cries fell on deaf ears, and he slowly hammered his way into her pussy.

“Fuck, so god damn tight, baby,” He groaned loudly, pulling her into an embrace as he bullied his way in. She almost howled in pain and immense pleasure, a stinging sensation bullying her cunt. She groaned as he finally settled in, practically sitting in his arms. She breathed heavily, trying to regain her strength and sanity as he slowly pulled out. She worriedly looked down, wondering why he had left, before she launched back, head hanging off the desk with her mouth agape. He shoved himself back into her quickly, wildly rocking himself back in forth in her tight entrance.

“God, you’re such a good whore—all mine, baby, I can’t let you go after this.” He laughed sorely, hands gripping her waist so tight it’d have left bruises. She whined loudly, grabbing into his shoulders with haste.

“Fuck, fuck! So big, professor-“ She choked out, moaning as he continued thrusting, balls slapping harshly against her ass. “Too much, fuck!”

Kennedy laughed cruelly, hand wrapping around her throat and squeezing tightly. “Take it baby, take it—you can do it, you will do it.” He remarked, a crazed grin playing onto his lips. His eyes showed nothing but pure lust and admiration, hearts almost forming in his eyes. One lick of pussy had him drawn in, and he wasn’t willing to let go of a gold mine like this. He thrusted harder, loud moans escaping his lips as he gripped her throat hard, watching the breath leave her form. He released her, laughing as she frantically gulped down air before grabbing hold again, thrusting frantically into her.

He could almost cry from how good he felt—both the blowjob and now, he was truly addicted. One taste of an elixir and he was hooked, unable to think of anything else besides the beauty he was inside. He was purely pussy drunk. “God you’re so tight, fuck, this hole’s all mine. You’re gonna be my fucktoy—stick you under this desk and make you suck my dick as I teach the class.” He stuttered slightly, words wavering as he came closer to cumming. He felt her constrict around her, and he almost burst out laughing, a cruel smile appearing. “You like the sound of it? Like the risk of getting caught by your classmates? Naughty bitch.” He hissed, thrusting into her sore body even harder. She cried out, eyes closing tightly as tears streamed down her face.

“M’ gonna cum, please, please, please,” She pleaded, hand reaching down to rub her clit. It was harshly smacked away only moments later, a rougher hand replacing it with slow circles.

“Think you deserve to cum, baby? You’ve been so bad all day—distracting the class with your horny mind. Do bad girls really deserve to cum, huh?” He questioned, slowly his thrusts but still deepening them. He grinned as tears fell down her face quicker, small whines leaving her lips.

“Please, oh god, please Professor,” She cried, hands gripping his shoulders tightly. “I’ll be a good girl, I promise, please make me cum!”

He shook his head, gently rocking into her body. “Mm mm, not good enough baby. Give me more.”

“Fuck, Leon, please fuck me! I need your cock to make me cum, please, only you could have me like this,” She pleaded, watery eyes staring into his.

His eyes widened for a fraction of a moment before he smirked, pulling back and slamming into her. He pistoned wildly against her hips, moans leaving the pair as they both approached rapidly to their climax. “Gonna fucking cum inside, shit—gonna breed this naughty pussy.”

She almost screamed at his words, walls contracting around his as she came all over his cock. “Fuck, inside, please,” She whined loudly, lower half shaking in aftershocks. He grinned, thrusting harder until he eventually slammed against her, a loud moan ripping from his throat. Cum flooded into her sensitive pussy, dripping down her thighs and onto his pelvis. He groaned, pulling out of her slowly and smacking her ass.

“Best pussy I’ve had in forever. Hope you know you won’t be leaving anytime soon, sweetheart.” He smirked, pulling her hair behind her ears as she blinked in and out of sleep. She only smiled softly back, whispering, “Wasn’t planning on it, professor.”

This is my first thing I’ve posted on heree ;) Would anyone like to see anything else? Might also cross post to AO3!

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #re4 leon #leon smut #resident evil #re4 remake #smut #x reader #reader insert

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brf-rumortrackinganon · 1 year

Text

Is the divorce coming?

The Sussexes have reissued their demands to Charles. This time, through Roya Nikkah (scroll to the end for the link). Except...I don't think this is Meghan. I think this is Harry trying to negotiate the terms of returning to the UK after a Sussex divorce with ultimatums (e.g., "I'll come back like you want me to, Pa, but only if...").

Look at this quote that Roya attributes to an unnamed friend of Harry's: "Meghan seems to have decided that coming back more [to the UK] is not what she wants to do, but Harry would like to." This is probably the most obvious, if not outright, hint that Harry and Meghan are planning to separate soon, if they haven't already. Reading between the lines, Harry planning for his children to live in the US while he works as a full-time royal in the UK.

Anyway. Harry's demands.

"Diplomatic" status back via official Counsellor of State status: "[Charles's] decision to keep Harry as a counsellor of state...has created a dilemma. By law, counsellors of state are requried to have a UK domicile, but Harry has no home here...courtiers have discussed leasing a property on the royal estate"

A permanent residence in the UK: "There is work to be done here [in the UK] in terms of the charities, and there would be opportunities in the future where [Harry] will want to be here a bit more. If they could have kept Frogmore, they would have done - it was the perfect setup for them."

The return of Harry's full permanent security detail: "The prince has challenged the decision by the Home Office to remove his Metropolitan Police protection when he is in the UK, even though he has offered to pay for it himself. A legal representative for Harry has said he is 'unable to return to his home' with his family because it is too dangerous."

BRF to make amends first: "...if Charles offered the Sussexes a home on the royal estate, 'it would be an ever-so-slight softening of relations.'"

Also, Roya's article makes it pointedly clear that from the Harry's perspective, it's the courtiers and the Waleses who don't want them back despite Charles leaving the door open for them:

Throwing the courtiers under the bus: "last week, courtiers were keen to ensure that William returned to the UK from his solo trip to New York on Wednesday morning, before Charles and Camilla departed for their state visit to France on the same day."

Throwing the Waleses under the bus: "According to royal sources, courtiers have discussed leasing a property on the royal estate to Harry and Meghan to try to resolve the counsellor-of-state conundrum. One option understood to have been considered is accommodation at Kensington Palace, where the Prince and Princess of a home and their private office. They spend few nights there, having moved their family to Windsor."

Here's the archived link to Roya's article: https://archive.ph/Gr8pJ

(I'm having a lot of trouble getting this link to post. Let me know in the comments if it doesn't work for you.)

#divorce watch #rumors #sussexes #brf #waleses #cambridges

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ofliterarynature · 1 month

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TBR TAKEDOWN: Week 12 (Aug 18)

TLDR: I have too many unread books, and I’m asking tumblr to help me downsize. Pick one or none, and comment if you can - a convincing sentence is worth a dozen votes! You’re also welcome to just choose the one that sounds the worst :D Book descriptions below the cut, see my pinned post for more info.

The Rector and the Rogue by W. A. Swanberg

It began quietly enough one morning in February 1880, with a mutton-chopped Acme Safe Company salesman knocking on the door of Reverend Morgan Dix, the starchiest clergyman in Manhattan's most respectable church. The salesman was surely misdirected, Reverend Dix explained--he had no need for a safe, and he had not made an appointment. But soon after, used clothes dealers arrived, followed by heavy machinery salesmen, and soon the street filled riotously with wave after wave of solicitor-tormentors--hundreds of funeral directors, horse traders, wigmakers, fellow clergymen, doctors--all insisting they'd been summoned by the bewildered Reverend Dix. And for weeks, it continued in this manner. Reporters from every newspaper in New York camped out to watch the fun, and as the story gained national attention, police and postal officers raced to capture the gleeful prankster-cum-performance artist who was making a mockery of the esteemed Trinity Church.

A fascinating tale of detection and revenge, The Rector and the Rogue uncovers for the first time the trail of celebrated Victorian trickster "Gentleman Joe"--the mysterious con-man whose innumerable identities, wild fabrications, baffling motives, and international trail of chaos would lead to one of the most bizarre criminal cases of the 19th century.

The Incredible Adventures of Cinnamon Girl by Melissa Kiel

Alba wants to stop time so she can stay in her small town forever - but the end of the world might just force her to confront her future.

Alba loves her life just as it is. She loves living behind the bakery and waking up in a cloud of sugar and cinnamon. She loves drawing comics and watching bad TV with her friends. The only problem is she's overlooked a few teeny details. Like, the guy she thought long gone has unexpectedly reappeared. And the boy who has been her best friend since forever has suddenly gone off the rails. Even her latest comic book creation is misbehaving. On top of all that, the world might be ending - which is proving to be awkward.

As doomsday enthusiasts flock to idyllic Eden Valley, Alba's life is thrown into chaos. Whatever happens next, it's the end of the world as she knows it. But when it comes to figuring out her heart, Armageddon might turn out to be the least of her problems.

Full of Keil's trademark quirky characters and witty dialogue, readers will be hooked by Alba's romantic dilemma and the hilarious plot that links the end of high school with the end of the world.

Moth and Spark by Anne Leonard

A prince with a quest. A commoner with mysterious powers. And dragons that demand to be freed—at any cost.

Prince Corin has been chosen to free the dragons from their bondage to the Empire, but dragons aren’t big on directions. They have given him some of their power, but none of their knowledge. No one, not the dragons nor their riders, is even sure what keeps the dragons in the Empire’s control.

Tam, sensible daughter of a well-respected doctor, had no idea before she arrived in the capital that she is a Seer, gifted with visions. When the two run into each other (quite literally) in the library, sparks fly and Corin impulsively asks Tam to dinner. But it’s not all happily ever after. Never mind that the prince isn’t allowed to marry a commoner: war is coming to Caithen.

Torn between Corin’s quest to free the dragons and his duty to his country, the lovers must both figure out how to master their powers in order to save Caithen. With a little help from a village of secret wizards and a rogue dragonrider, they just might pull it off.

#one of these I'm not sure I'm interested in and one of these is terribly reviewed #they are not the same alas #bec posts #tbr takedown #books #booklr #bookblr #poll #tbr #the rector and the rogue #w a swanberg #the incredible adventures of cinnamon girl #Melissa Kiel #moth and spark #Anne Leonard #book poll #bookish #book photos

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jinuaei · 1 year

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Yandere slasher/nearsighted darling - Roomies

Warning: supposedly yandere

So apparently the person you talked to last night was NOT your roomie, because her corpse was found 10 feet away from the house, hanged and gutted like a fish. You learned this the morning after, when a police officer knocked on your door which prompted you to wake up scrambling for your glasses, the interrogation was nerve wracking considering you just woke up and was immediately told that your roommate died. Luckily, you were able to explain where you were and what you were doing during the time she got slaughtered, it was around the same time you were on the phone with your friend, just moments before you made dinner. Still, you think the police consider you as a suspect considering your roommate died the day you finally moved in. Wait, who was that guy anyway? Shit, you forgot to tell the police officer about them.

You would be lying if you said you were sad, scared yes, but sad? Not really, you just met her after all, and the only time that you met it was when she ignored you after opening the front door. But now you’re in a small dilemma, should you live alone and bear the rent all by yourself or find a roomie to split the bills?

…

Yeah no, you can’t afford to rent the whole house, not only that, you barely know anyone in the town and your way around it. Maybe it’s better to find a new roomie, hopefully they are better than your old one, R.I.P to her…you didn’t even know her name, and now you feel horrible.

Shaking your head, you open your laptop to write an advertisement for a roommate, listing down the price for their part of the pay and other details. After pressing send you get up from your seat, you go downstairs to make some lunch for yourself, I should start finding a job… Which you did after eating your lunch. The day goes by without a hitch and you’re honestly glad about that, still, it’s pretty weird knowing that a murder happened so near the house. Ah, you should lock the doors and windows before going to bed.

Lost in your thoughts you almost didn’t notice the doorbell ringing. Confusion turned into worry as you did not expect anybody today, especially 7pm at night, is it the person from last night? You shook your head and walked towards the door, looking at the peephole to see who it was. A random guy is on your front porch! What the fuck? Your first reaction was to panic but you were able to calm yourself, maybe the guy just needed help, that’s all.

The door opens with a slight creak and the person behind the door peers between the crack, eyes darting towards the man. “Do you need anything sir…?”

“I’m here for the ad for a roommate? Is this the right house?”, Look at you, so nervous, so adorable. His expression is one of politeness but inside, the urge to kill you right here is winning against his plan to let you live and use you as an alibi of sorts. But when you fully open the door and greet him with a smile, the latter won without question…That was too quick of a decision, even for him. Whatever, you’ll be more useful alive anyways

#yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere #Honestly I keep thinking of ghosface as i wrote this.

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redpenship · 9 months

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Happy New Year! I’d love to know if you have any headcanons about Mobian culture and/or holidays, either based on things you’ve seen in the games/comics/movies etc OR just stuff you’ve made up for fun. :) Maybe this isn’t really your forte but I thought I’d ask haha!

Happy new year!

I actually don't have too many headcanons on Mobian culture itself. However, I do have HCs for their society in general which I guess would feed into the culture idea anyways. I'm just going to put all of it here because why not.

(Heads up: this post is 1.8k words long).

Thesis I: There is no Mobian state.

If you've read my fic Buzzsaw Dilemma, then you'll have already been given a basic run down on how I think this works. Since I like rambling about this kind of stuff, I will explain everything again, but this time with evidence from canon to support my theory!

To begin, it's always best to define what a "state" actually is. I prefer the Max Weber view as a state being an "organization with a monopoly on the legitimate use of force". Let's break down what this actually means with an example:

The state establishes a rule that you can't assault other people. One day, you feel that someone has wronged you and decide to punch them in the face. A police officer nearby notices this and responds by punching you in the face and detaining you. After spending the night in jail, you're charged with felony assault and the police officer is not. Why?

As a random citizen, you do not have a right to the legitimate use of force. You cannot punch people to get what you want with impunity. The police, as official arms of the state to use against domestic populations, do have a monopoly on the use of force. They can shoot people, put them in prison, and basically do whatever they want (within reason, technically, but the state doesn't like challenges to its authority and will always resist holding itself and its officers accountable for perceived illegitimate uses of force) because they're the only ones allowed to do so! Your boss at work can't kidnap you and hold you prisoner for a year because you broke a rule. The state can do that to you because it is seen as a legitimate use of force.

Now that we both know what a state is, I can explain why I don't think one exists on the Mobian islands. I am going to cite a lot of stuff from IDW since it's allegedly canon now and the games tend not to focus too much on day-to-day life on the islands anyways.

Point one: the Restoration. Since aid organizations apparently don't like working on the islands, which I suspect might be due to the Eggman Empire's fixed presence there, the Restoration was forced to step up after the war to fix up the islands. Although it's true that some states just don't give a shit about their populations, I don't think it's wrong to say that post-war clean up would typically be a job for an existing state. The lack of any central authority points to the conclusion that one may just not exist.

Here are some panels from IDW issue #42:

Here, Zavok is surprised about the lack of security at Restoration HQ. Master Zik explains that Mobians don't see a need to prepare for violence because they aren't violent to each other. This is an interesting assertion given Tails' backstory, but I guess his two tails were just that disturbing to the people at home!

The main takeaway here is that the islands don't really have security guards or police officers. I like these panels for that reason only. I'm afraid the reasoning provided by Zik still implies that police/guards would be necessary if there was violence among Mobians, so it's not really that revolutionary of a worldbuilding moment and realigns the comic with statist ideology.

So, let's summarize: the islands don't have a central authority. They don't have any means to enforce a monopoly on the use of force. Does this mean that they don't have a state? In the absence of government, does the Restoration pave the roads?

In my general opinion, yes. There are some instances that could be used to disprove this theory, such as the Everhold Prison seen in Bad Guys, which is seemingly guarded exclusively by dog Mobians:

The existence of a prison implies a functional penal system, which in turn implies that somebody on the islands has a legitimate monopoly on force. On the other hand, it's never explicitly stated that Everhold Prison is hosted on the islands, so for now I can still cope and pretend it never happened. Yippee!

Thesis II: The islands don't use money.

I hosted a poll on this subject a few weeks ago, in which I learned that most people think there's money on the islands. Allow me to argue otherwise!

The most common theory for the origin of money is that it came into existence because bartering for stuff fucking sucks and nobody likes doing it. Nothing has a standardized value, so if the guy in your village responsible for making shoes is a pompous asshole who makes ludicrous demands such as asking for FIVE bushels of wheat in exchange for a pair of shoes, even though you've heard the guy in the next town over only asks for three bushels, then you're shit out of luck and have to fork over all your wheat. Maybe the shoemaker is on a gluten-free diet and refuses to trade with you, so as a wheat farmer who only trades in wheat now you can't even barter for a new pair of shoes! Sucks to be you, buddy.

Under a monetary system, a bushel of wheat and a pair of shoes both gain a standardized value. A bushel of wheat is $1, and a pair of shoes is $4. After selling enough wheat that you have $4 in profits, you can walk over to the shoemaker, slap some coins down on the table, and tell him to get to work. Now, you might say, "wait, if you're in a captive market, can't he just charge whatever he wants and you have to deal with it?" The answer to that question is yes, but asking economic theorists to consider greed in their theories is a bit hard since they don't really care about fairness at all and still don't understand what's wrong with kids making carpets in factories since their hands are the perfect size for that sort of thing. All these stupid labour rights activists don't understand comparative advantages and it's sickening!

Here's the problem with an existing Mobian monetary system: it assumes greed! Or, at the very least, assumes that Mobians have normalized the hoarding of commodities for personal gain. I don't believe this is the case at all.

Let's recall Zik's statement to the Zeti: Mobians don't steal from each other because they are kind and compassionate to one another. I would argue that the origins of property/commodity ownership implies large-scale theft, as developing something like an apple orchard requires dispossessing your neighbours of a plot of land and claiming it for yourself. Then you grow a ton of apples on your land--that they once could have used as they pleased before you took over--and tell them that they can't eat any of these apples unless they give you something in exchange. But the apples are right there, bro, they'll complain. You can't eat all of those on your own. You'll tell them to suck it up and eventually they'll bring you items (or money) in exchange for some apples.

This doesn't seem like something we'd see the cute Sonic furries do to each other. Since we're talking about farming, here's a panel from there IDW 2022 annual where all the characters are helping out on some kind of communal farm:

Moving on, let's look at why Sonic hates Eggman so much. Eggman has always served as a representation of industrialization, environmental exploitation and degradation, and individualist greed. If the islands had a monetary system, and the ideals required to develop one in the first place, then a lot of what Eggman is attempting to implement would have already existed! Economic development requires exploitation, both of other people and natural resources. Money is the result of economic development. It just doesn't fit for me.

Thesis III: Equity as a norm.

This is basically the section on culture. Leading up to this section, I've established a rule: Mobians live in a stateless and moneyless society. Here are some cultural norms that might have lead to such a society in modern times.

Ecology as a priority. This is consistent with the environmentalist themes in the series, but also with the way that most Mobians we meet in the series seem to really care about the environment. My personal take is that they simply haven't developed the view that they are above nature, which is something seen in Eggman and other industrialists. In Sonic Prime, we see Thorn Rose react aggressively when she notices that her friends harming plants by taking more than they need from them. This may have been because they violated a strict cultural norm! Although this occurred in an alternate dimension, I like to think about its implications for the main universe, too. Is the cultural pressure to maintain and protect the land they live on enough to suppress industrial development? Maybe!

Conformity as a means of social cohesion. Generally, I think Mobian society demands a lot of personal sacrifice from people. A core tenant of collectivism is that you have to put up with not getting what you want most of the time, and sometimes this even comes at a direct cost to you. Maybe your neighbour stole your favourite toy truck and you can't complain about it or everyone will accuse you of trying to establish private ownership over something stupid. Or, maybe, there hasn't been a lot of rain this year and your communal farms are flopping. Out of desperation one day, you wander into the woods and find some bushes of edible berries that could help you survive better for the next few days. However, since eating while your neighbours starve would violate the ethical values imposed on your by your collectivist society, you must accept only having a few berries instead and sharing the rest with your village. If you're someone like Tails, who stands out because of a physical mutation, then tough luck if your village cares about appearances. Everyone knows your business and you're dependent on them for support. As soon as they decide they don't like you, you're going to suffer severely. Upsides and downsides to everything.

Alternate methods of punishment. A society without a state likely wouldn't have prisons. Building on the concept of conformity, social crimes would be mitigated through social pressure--basically, if you do something wrong, everyone will be mean to you and not like you as much as they did before. Fear of risking the judgment of peers is a very strong deterrent for most crimes, arguably moreso than prison itself.

Everything I've written here is my basic take on Mobian culture and society! In terms of holidays, I'm sure they have stuff relating to harvest times and seasonal changes.

Thanks for the question!! Sorry if this isn't what you wanted at all haha.

#yogacatdeskknit #sonic the hedgehog #redposts #long post

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funficwriter · 6 months

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A Wolf and A Snake - Letters' Interlude #4

Taglist: @yue-caelum, @reyy-chanx, @mis-disaster, @ladyarchiviste, @keigo-hawks-takami-simp

Warnings: Cursing, sexism, corruption, mention of violence, some yandere shit but you know that by now. Moral dilemma? Lol.

From: Lady Y/N Balthazar - Balthazar Manor, Court Region, Fontaine

To: Duke Wriothesley of Meropide, Fortress of Meropide, Liffey Region, Fontaine

Wriothesley,

I know I risk sounding like a broken record saying this, but I really do wear each day. I'm just happy that I can still write to you because I feel that it's one of the few pleasures I have left. Between my piano lessons and reading time being interrupted by meeting with Archandelle, my parents' constant nagging, and the fact that I constantly have to sneak around their backs even for things unrelated to my marriage prospects... I'm exhausted, my love. And troubled. That's why I'm writing this.

When our last meeting ended abruptly, there was so much more I wanted to say to you. I was barely scraping the bottom of the barrel and our day lives tore us apart again. At least Frosty is good company and patiently waiting for me to finish this letter and send it to you.

Yesterday, I snuck out to the police station under the pretense of 'shopping'. Do you remember that young officer I once mentioned? Jacques? He looked scared when they let me in his office, even though everyone else seemed excited for him. I guess the visit of a noble does that.

I'm a terrible person, Wriothesley.

The first time I came here, I picked him specifically because he was young and new and a little naive, as all new cops are. He was so ready to help me, even more so when I said: "An injustice is being done upon me. I need evidence to counter it.". He almost jumped out of his seat until he understood what I meant: The 'injustice' is merely procedure. What woman says this, only for it to be her engagement that she, her parents, and the suitor agreed to? What sort of injustice was noble tradition that was carried out for centuries?

And I shoved the cash on the table, and it increased in volume. And I invoked his poor family that he was trying to feed, the girl he wanted to marry... "Do you really want to wait forever on your shitty wage, when you could propose in an hour? All you have to do is give me what I asked for. It's not that hard.". He couldn't. I was corrupting him, and by Focalors, what sort of noble am I - a Balthazar no less - if I use the very enemy of justice for my own selfish gains? All of this to not get married?

It was lengthy. It was uncomfortable and I could feel the fibers of my being twisting to accommodate this act that I would never have dreamed of committing. It was like exerting a muscle I didn't use, but way more intense. In the end, he gave me the pile you saw last time.

I did it again this evening. Wriothesley, last time, I was ridden with guilt. I think you'd understand why better than most. But this time? I started justifying it. With each reason I gave as to why this was fine, good even, my guilt washed away. After all, there would be no need to resort to such extreme measures if I could just be with you from the start. And then I thought: "I've never justified my father's deed until I started committing it. I am more like him and less just than I thought.". I wanted to cry. Who is this new person - no, these new people and this new logic? Why am I less like what I used to be?

Fuck my life, why do I have to be less like what I used to be just so I can marry the one I love? A privilege that many girls today have?

I'm sorry for the plaintive note today. I'm just... So torn. Yes, I think 'torn' comes closest to it. I am turning into what I was warned about my entire life, but it's not like I'm doing it to embezzle money or get someone wrongfully convicted. I just want to be with you, but even that's too much to ask in this stupid class and family...

Total truth? There are times where I want do more. Once, my father was talking to his friends about how excited he was for my prospects. Do you know what my brother said? "I was worried she wouldn't get her eyes off of that Meropide mutt. At least she's probably forgotten about him, as she should.". They laughed a lot and later joked about Father's lack of control during my first social. They said that they couldn't tell who needed a leash more: You for being "a dog", or me for giving you "loving eyes" back then, as if I wanted you for a bit. Father dismissed them by talking about another man's daughter and her bad marriage. He was embarrassed, but I wanted to go over there and scratch his eyes out. Maybe my brother's too, and the other men who were joking. I wanted to wrench my hand into Lord Carmichael's back and make his wife a widow to be judged. Maybe then he'd enjoy it down in hell. Or have some emotional intelligence.

I'm thinking of you, and hoping we can see each other soon. Maybe my spirits will be lifted....

---------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Duke Wriothesley of Meropide - Fortress of Meropide, Liffey Region, Fontaine

To: Lady Y/N Balthazar - Balthazar Manor, Court Region, Fontaine

Y/N dear,

It was only a matter of time until you sent me such a letter. For one, during our latest meeting, you looked like you had way more to say. I can only look forward to a life where the dawn doesn't shut us up and away.

First of all, please don't apologize for the sadness that you feel. Unlike that idiot suitor and father, I don't expect you to be happy 24/7, even if at your own inconvenience. I may call you 'my doll', but I know you've got a far wider emotional range than that.

I don't know how effective saying this would be, but your message reads a lot like my younger self. How it saddens me that you had to realize the double-faced quality of Fontainian justice like this... Even if you knew it deep down, as you grew up and understood how so many noblemen get away with their crimes, engaging with it is a whole greater beast. Sometimes I wonder whether there are judges, prosecutors, lawyers and other potential lawful agents who have lost faith in our judicial systems. Many of our current judges are indeed doing their best to combat it (I know Neuvillette will never rest as long as this issue remains), but it doesn't change the fact that many are still being failed today. Orphans. Young noble ladies. Poor people. Us. By Focalors, us.

As Meropide's administrator and a noble, I'm certain that you would think of me as a man of justice, just like many others. I think of myself that way, too. I know I have the power to end the laws and traditions that are screwing us over (and sometimes I wonder: How many other couples like us?). It sounds hypocritical, doesn't it? I am hiring back-alley investigators and threatening data out of whoever knows what I need. And you, a lady raised in the hearth of justice, you're lying to your parents and corrupting police officers. How could we possibly be good, you may ask?

After these few months, I came to a conclusion: A man of justice should not mean being a doormat, especially if the injustice will cost him his love.

For one, the change that could benefit us is nowhere near as fast as needed. What does this result in? Potentially happy couples are being torn apart. The point behind justice is to protect one's right to a life that he desires, that his loved ones desire and that harms no one. Is our union based on economic exploitation, power dynamics, sexism or leveraging? No. How is it that most noble couples stand on these crimes, while the only one with ours is that I am not fully human and that you want me? I am not going around slaughtering people or terrorizing the city. You, an angel sent by Focalors herself, have never commissioned your husband to kill, silence or bribe. Archons, what did you do to deserve this fate when I can think of women far more rotten than you?

Now you may counter me and say that you have engaged in bribery yourself, and that's bad. But you know what? It doesn't matter to me. I couldn't care less about it. This may sound worrisome to hear from a man of justice. But as a man, without fancy titles and more emotions and feelings, I'm getting real sick of this. I don't bring myself to care about judicial principles if an obvious double standard is taking place, one that is taking you away from me. I know what makes me get up and do my best everyday. I know what I'd turn savage for, who I'd risk a life sentence and a downfall for, and it's not justice. Justice can't enjoy brownies with me on a star-lit night. Justice can't lie in my bed. Justice can't wake me up with a good morning kiss and take me to go swim in Belleau. All of that is you, and it will always be you.

I care about justice. I really do. But justice, along with your father, money and Fontaine, can go fuck itself if it compromises my wife.

I look forward to the day that the noble class is held accountable, and choice unions are the norm. Until then, I'm just going to have to fight tooth and nail for my own. It's actually a must, my dear. We need to set a new precedent for the upcoming generation. Backing down is not going to challenge what your parents and their fellow nobles have always done.

I know your schedule is getting more hectic by the day. When you can, though, please let me know if a free window opens up. Perhaps we can see and update each other on our findings.

Always yours, and you're always mine,

Wriothesley.

#yandere wriothesley x reader #yandere fontaine x reader #wriothesley x reader #a wolf and a snake #yandere genshin x reader

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cevansbrat0007 · 2 years

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The Incident

Summary: An unsettling incident at your apartment forces you to rethink your current living situation. Takes place after the events in The Laundromat.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Smut, P in V Sex, Protective Andy, Scared/Anxious Reader, Discussions of Home Invasion and Theft, Smarmy Landlord, Physical Violence, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Part of my Growing Pains Series. All mistakes are my own. Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Stay or leave.

To be honest, you already knew which one you wanted to choose. You warily eye the baseball bat taking up space by your side on the bed. If you decided to stay at your apartment tonight, you at least had a weapon. You could post up in the hallway and keep watch. Listen out for any unusual noises, any out of place bumps or bangs...

Or the sound of someone trying to bust through the deadbolt on your door.

Tonight, you’d come home to find the door to your apartment open – just slightly ajar. The sight had stopped you dead in your tracks. You were positive that you had shut and locked it behind you this morning. In fact, you knew you had. Because you were the type to always double-check that shit.

Momentarily stunned, the dead cell phone you were holding had slipped from your hand and clattered to the floor. That small sound seemed to echo throughout the hallway, startling you into action. Picking it up, you had slowly backed away from the entrance, your eyes never leaving the scene in front of you.

Not even for a second.

When you’d finally reached the bottom of the steps, you had stepped outside of your two-family home before proceeding to bang on your retired downstairs neighbor’s door. Thankfully, Mr. Stranton had been home, along with his brother and nephew. After quickly explaining the situation, the three men had ushered you inside the residence before taking your keys and venturing back up to your apartment wielding a gun, a crowbar, and a butcher knife.

You’d waited nervously as the minutes ticked by, kicking yourself for not having had sense enough to charge your phone before you’d left work for the day. That way you could’ve at least called your boyfriend or something.

He would’ve been to you in record time.

Moments later, although it seemed like much longer than that, your neighbor and his family had returned unharmed. They’d assured you that they had searched every room in your place and found pretty nothing.

Except for two things.

One: a broken picture frame containing a sweet photo of you and Andy at some random event a few months back. It was laying smashed on the floor, almost as if it had simply...fallen off the shelf.

And two: when checking your bedroom, they’d found your underwear drawer wide open. And that it appeared that the contents had been rifled through. What they were looking for, you couldn’t be sure.

Unsure of what to make of things and concerned for your well-being, the men had asked if you wanted to call the police. You’d said no. And then they’d asked if you had somewhere else you could stay that night, just to be safe. Of course, you’d assured them that you did. And, should the need arise, you’d be heading over there tonight.

With nothing left to do beyond that, they’d kindly escorted you up to your floor. But not before writing down their phone numbers – just in case. You’d thanked them before letting yourself in and locking the door behind you. And then you’d gone to secure the chain.

Only for that piece of shit to break off in your fucking hand.

That brought you back to your current dilemma. Stay or leave.

With a sigh, you lean over to check your phone which is currently charging on the nightstand before flopping back on the bed. As soon as you were able, you’d plugged the damn thing in and waited for it to power back on. And then you’d made two calls.

The first being to 911. While you’d been hesitant to claim it was an emergency, after explaining the situation they had dispatched an officer out to your location. And then you’d called Rodney Perkins, your landlord. While the man still gave you the heebie-jeebies, you figured that he would want to be informed of the situation. You had also hoped that he would be willing to come over and fix the chain lock. If not right this minute, then first thing tomorrow morning.

You’d been wrong on both counts.

“That’s a real shame, sweetheart.” He’d said. “It’s why I tell all my female tenants to make sure they lock their doors, you never know who could be out there prowling around. Especially when it happens to be a young thing like you over there living all alone. Makes you easy pickins.”

You’d tried so hard to resist the urge to screech into your phone. As soon as your lease was up you were fucking gone!

“Rodney, I’m telling you I did! I locked it before I left and –”

“You couldn’t have. You just said that the door was open when you came home, honey. Maybe you just didn’t shut it properly. No one can get through my locks. And the only person with a spare key is me.”

Duly noted.

“Fine.” You’d said. “When can you come by to fix my chain? I’d feel better – safer – if I had a timeframe.”

“I’m afraid it’s gonna take me a while.”

“What’s a while, Rodney?” You’d struggled to blink back tears. “I’m not sure how comfortable I feel sleeping here without it.”

“Well, I’m currently in the middle of fixing up two new properties. And the construction is taking up a lot of my time. So, we’re looking at a few days at least. Maybe a week.”

Fucking ridiculous!

“That’s not going to work for me. A broken lock is an emergency maintenance issue and should be treated as such.”

“Look, Y/N, if you’re really that concerned for your safety, why don’t you go stay with your hotshot boyfriend, Archie, or whatever the hell his name is? Maybe get him to pay someone to fix the damned thing since he claims to know so much.”

You’d been shocked to say the least. And not just by his words, but also by the amount of venom in his tone.

“I pay you rent every month, Rodney. I’m your tenant and you’re my landlord. And as your tenant, I am telling you that my lock needs fixed immediately.”

“Is that so?” He’d sniped. “Well, then, you won’t mind paying a $200 convenience fee.”

“Wh-what? A convenience fee?” You’d hissed. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me, dude!”

“If you want it done, then you’ll pay. If not, then I’ll get to it when I get to it.”

“No.” You’d growled, your hand gripping the phone so hard you thought it might crack. “I’ve been a good tenant for the last two years. I’ve always paid on time, never been a bother –”

“Sweetheart, if you don’t have the cash then call up your rich pretty boy. Give me a ring when you have it.” And then the line had gone dead. Fucking bastard.

You grab a pillow and bury your face in it before letting out a frustrated scream. You’re actually in the middle of your third scream when you hear your phone buzz. Shit.

Leaning over to look at the screen, you see that it’s Andy calling. Again. During all of the chaos you’d missed his call. You sit there contemplating your next move while you let it go to voicemail.

And then you make a decision. There was no way you were staying at your place tonight. Something about this whole thing wasn’t sitting right in your belly. You wanted – no, needed – to be somewhere safe tonight so that you could begin planning your next move.

So, you shoot your man a simple text.

You: I’m coming over.

Andy Bear: Ok. What’s wrong?

You: I need a glass of Pinot. See you in 30.

Andy Bear: ???

You tuck the phone back in your pocket and then you’re on the move. Having felt exhausted only moments ago, you're now hustling around the room tossing items in your bag. Yeah, you had clothes at his place but you needed to bring more. Just in case. Not to mention the fact that he loved whenever you left your things behind. He’d been all too happy to clear out a set of drawers for you a few months ago.

You hadn't even had to ask. He'd just done it.

Satisfied that you had pretty much everything you could think of, you grab your charger and your keys before heading towards your front door. Forcing yourself to take a deep breath, you rise on your toes to look out the peephole. And then you crack open the door to take a slow look around. Feeling the hairs rise on the back of your neck, you bolt out your apartment before locking the door and racing down the stairs.

You make it to your car, which is parked just a ways down the street, in record time. Throwing your stuff in the passenger seat, you slide inside and put it in drive. You pull off into the night, glancing at your apartment as it slowly fades in the rearview mirror.

Peace of mind was just a few miles away.

“Alright.” You huff out a tired sigh when you finally pull up in front of Andy’s brownstone. Feeling grateful, you see that he’s left on the front porch light in anticipation of your arrival. You take a moment to gather your things before exiting your vehicle and jogging the distance to his front door. You barely have time to get your key in the lock before the barrier is wrenched open to reveal a freshly showered, and very concerned, Andrew Barber.

“Hey.” You whisper as you reach out to wrap your small arms around his bigger, bulkier frame. “Thanks for letting me come over.”

“Of course. What’s going on, Y/N?” Andy smooths his palms over your back, drawing you even closer.

“I need a drink.” Another withering breath escapes you as you gently pull away. Leaving your bag by the door, you go about making your way to the kitchen with your man hot on your heels. Spying a previously opened bottle of wine sitting on the counter, you remove the cork and pour yourself a generous glass. And then you down it in one long gulp.

“Sorry.” You mutter over a tiny burp as you go to pour yourself another. Or, at least you would’ve, but both the bottle and the glass are plucked out of your grasp before you can. “Hey – !”

“Okay, you’ve had your drink.” Andy picks you up by the waist and sits you on the counter. Placing his arms on either side of your body, he effectively cages you in. “Now talk, please. I’m worried.”

“I, um…” That’s when it hits you that your boyfriend knows nothing about your nearly five-hour ordeal, and you weren’t quite sure how this was about to go. “I want to sleep here tonight, if that’s okay. I mean, I know it’s okay, but…can I please have some more wine?”

You could feel the shaking about to start.

“Sure. When we’re through talking.” His concerned eyes search your face as he waits for you to speak. “Tell me what’s wrong, baby girl.”

“I don’t want to stay at my place.” Your hands go to rest on his biceps, giving them a light squeeze. “At least not for the next few nights.”

“You know you’re always welcome here. You know that. In fact, I wish you'd quit playing and just fucking move in already." He smiles then, showcasing just a hint of a dimple on his right cheek. "But what’s happened now? What else is broken in that little spot you love so much?” Andy’s brief attempt at levity has you nervously chewing on your lower lip.

“My apartment.”

“I’m sorry. Say what, now?” He growls, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“When I got home tonight, my front door was open and I –”

“The fuck?! When the hell was this? Did you go inside? Please tell me that you didn’t fucking go inside!” Your man’s rapid fire questions are enough to make you dizzy.

“Of course I didn’t! At least not at first. My downstairs neighbor came up and checked everything for me –”

“The fucking schoolteacher?”

“Yes, Andy Bear. He and his brother and nephew went up and checked everything for me while I waited behind. The only thing they really found was a broken picture frame with a photo of you and I.” You shrug, taking in a steadying breath.

Andy waits a beat, his muscles tensing as he works to process the information. “Y/N, what aren’t you telling me?”

“Um…” Your man is quick to notice the hesitancy in your tone, and he doesn’t like it. Gripping your chin, he forces you to look him in the eyes.

“What else was missing?” He asks, his gruff voice dripping with authority.

“My panties.” You rasp, your throat suddenly burning as hot tears fill your eyes. “Who–whoever broke-in stole a couple pairs of my panties. Mostly the clean ones, but also a few dirty.” His eyes darken as feelings of rage threaten to consume him.

“Y/N, did he – could you tell if any of them had been used?” His other hand goes to the top of your head, brushing the curls away from your face.

“Used?” You blink up at him, unsure of what he means. “How would I know?” A lone tear falls, which your man swiftly dashes away.

“I’m talking about fluids, sweet girl.” Andy briefly closes his eyes and rests his forehead against yours before pressing a calming kiss to the bridge of your nose. “Did he leave a mess anywhere? Or stains, maybe?”

You shake your head as understanding finally dawns. “Not that I could tell, no.”

“Okay, okay.” He hisses through his teeth as he begins formulating a plan. “We need to file a police report and we need to do it tonight.”

“I already did that. And then I called Rodney –”

“Who?”

“My landlord. I spoke with that asshole before I texted you.” Wanting to get the conversation over with, you make the decision to spill your guts about the entire call with that awful man. You leave nothing out, even though you know it's enough to send him over the edge.

When you’re through, Andy’s jaw is clenched so tight that you’re afraid he might break a tooth. He’s even more upset than you are. And try as you might, there isn’t really much you can do to calm his strained nerves.

Needing to put something on your stomach, you go about reheating some of your man’s leftover Thai food and call it a day. While you’re eating, Andy also makes it clear that he doesn’t want you going back to your apartment without him for any reason.

“Not happening, Y/N.” He growls when you delicately broach the topic of maybe returning in a few days. “Try it and I’ll tie you to the fucking bed.” Deciding to leave it alone for now, you just shovel another bite of Pad See Ew into your hungry mouth.

After all, your Big Man never bluffed.

The two of you would be going back, with the understanding that you would only be there long enough to snag a copy of your leasing agreement, along with a suitcase filled with extra clothes. Sure you could stay with your man for now, but you still needed a place to live. Didn't you?

When you’re through eating, you try to help Andy with the dishes, only for him to send you off to bed.

He literally pats you on the ass and shoos you up the stairs.

“Go get comfortable, baby. I’ll be up soon.” He mutters before turning back to loading the dishwasher. You linger there for a moment, absently twirling your thumbs, before spinning on your heel and heading towards the steps.

Deciding you’re too wiped to shower, you rummage through your boyfriend’s bureau for one of his old cotton t-shirts. You make quick work of shimmying out of your clothes before brushing your teeth and crawling into bed.

Not wanting to chance falling asleep without him, you decide to sit there and wait. Drawing your knees up to your chest you play tonight’s events over and over again in your mind. Something about the whole incident just didn’t sit right. You just needed a moment to figure out what it was.

When Andy finally joins you in bed, he barely has enough time to get comfortable before you’re burrowing into his side. After everything you’d been through you were feeling more than a little needy. And you were grateful that the man you loved understood just how much you wanted to be held.

“I love you, Andrew.” You whisper as you begin to drift off.

“Love you more, Y/N. Get some rest and we’ll figure things out in the morning.” He murmurs as he cradles your head to his chest and strokes his fingers through your thick curls.

His words barely register as the world fades into unconsciousness.

You come-to a few hours later with the feeling that something is wrong. Turning over, you find Andy awake and sitting at the far edge of the bed, his face buried in his hands.

“Andy.” You whisper into the dimly lit room. “Andy..?” You try again when he doesn’t answer the first time. “Are you okay?” The blankets pool around your waist as you crawl over to his hunched form. “Baby, what is it?” Your hand goes to gently rest on his shoulder.

“Move in with me.” He rasps, his deep voice coming out slightly muffled.

“What?”

“Move. In. With. Me.” Your boyfriend looks at you then, his beautiful blue eyes wet with emotion.

“Oh, honey.” You come up on your knees so that you can wrap your arms around him. “I’m – everything’s okay.”

“No.” Andy growls, his body tensing in your hold. “No more jokes, no more games, no more fucking arguing. After we go and get your things in a few days, that’s it. I want you to promise that you’ll be here from now on.”

You stare back at him, momentarily speechless.

“I still have my lease to worry about.” You remind him, wishing you knew just how long he’d been up and stressing alone in the dark. “Maybe in a couple of months we can –” Just then he surprises you by turning in your arms and breaking your hold. His big hands going to grip your shoulders.

“Fuck your lease!” His eyes go wild as he gives you a light shake. “Whoever broke into your place tonight was into some fucked up shit. There is so much that could’ve gone wrong with all of this, so much that could’ve gone sideways so goddamned fast. And you would’ve been alone for all of it!”

“Andy, I’m gonna need you to calm down a little, okay? Because there’s literally no reasoning with you when you get like this.” Your hands come to rest themselves on his thick biceps.

“Well, maybe I don’t want to be reasoned with. Maybe I just want you to tell me that you’ll be coming home to me from here on out.” You work to control your breathing as your heart slowly threatens to beat its way out of your chest. “You promise me that right fucking now, Y/N, and I will calm down.”

“I – I don’t know. What if it’s too soon? What if we’re making a mistake?” But your man remains undeterred, even as he watches you pull away. Instead of letting the matter drop, Andy follows you, his big body chasing your own across the bed.

“The only mistake I’ve made is forcing myself to sleep without you night after night.” He pins you under him, forcing you to take his delicious weight. “Say you’ll move in with me, baby. You know you want to.” He rasps as his lips begin raining hot, wet kisses along your collarbone. “Say yes.”

A low whimper escapes you as more fevered kisses dance their way up and along your jaw at the same time as your man’s hands go to slip beneath the thin material of your shirt. He cups your soft, full breasts, his slightly roughened palms tenderly molding and caressing your delicate flesh.

“Say yes, baby girl. To me. To us.”

“It’s just – oooh – it’s such a big step, Andy Bear. And I…” Words fail you as your boyfriend begins grinding his hips against your increasingly wet core. “I…”

“Want you in my bed every night.” He growls against your mouth, his skilled tongue trailing its way across the seam of your plush lips. “Want to wake up to you every morning.” He keeps thrusting, his pace quickening as his desire for you grows even more frenzied.

“Yes, yes, yes –” You hiss as the broad head of cock makes contact with your swollen clit through the fabric of your cotton panties. “Oh-okay!”

“Give me the fucking words, Y/N.” Andy purrs as one of his hands removes itself from your shirt to cup your face, applying just enough pressure to get your attention. “I wanna hear you say it so I can make love to you tonight in our bed for the first fucking time.” He begins peppering your face and neck with kisses as he struggles to hold onto the last vestiges of his control.

“I’ll move in with you.”

“Again.” He grunts,his other hand jerking your panties to the side as he lines up his throbbing member with your eager pussy.

“I-I’ll move in with yoo-oou!” You cry as he thrusts home inside you, reveling in the burn as your velvety walls stretch to accommodate his size. “Oh, god!”

“Thank you, baby.” Your boyfriend pants as he finds his rhythm, his Boston accent growing thicker with every ardent surge of his hips. “Swear to god I’m so fuckin’ happy right now.”

You know you should put up a little more of a fight. But, truth be told, you simply don’t have it in you. Because at the end of the day, your heart belonged to this man. The man who wanted to claim all of your days as his. The man who wanted to own each and every one of your nights. So why fight when you could lay back and let your man love you in all the ways he knew you needed to be loved?

Three days later…

You and Andy are sitting in the living room of your apartment reviewing your lease. According to your legal expert and lover, you were well within your rights to file for early termination of your agreement due to gross negligence.

Per your man’s advice, your first step was going to involve speaking with Rodney directly. If that didn’t work, then you’d probably move forward with having to take him to court. But he was also going to drop a copy by a friend’s office to have them take a look.

Just in case.

In the interim, the two of you had packed a few things - clothes, mostly. But also a few pictures and knickknacks that you just could not do without. After slipping your lease back into a folder with a few other important documents, you begin mulling over lunch options. Only to pause when you hear the sound of a key being inserted into a lock.

Your lock.

Rising to your feet, Andy is quick to move so that he’s between you and whoever is apparently at your door.

Who the fuck else had a working key to your place?

You hold your breath as the seconds continue to tick by. And then, you watch in what seems like slow motion as the door opens to reveal none other than your landlord.

‘Rodney?” You breathe, startling him.

“Y/N! Uh, hi there.” The older man coughs as his hand flies to his chest. “I’m, uh, here to fix that chain. Just like I said I would.”

“Uh huh.” You reply, not bothering to hide the suspicion in your tone. “What happened to knocking?”

“Figured you wouldn’t be home and I could just, uh, fix that thing and be out of your hair.” Your landlord coughs again, his mottled face and neck turning an even deeper shade of red.

“So you just let yourself in?” You try to move around your boyfriend’s big body, but he keeps blocking your path. “I mean, what the hell?”

“Look, sweetheart, this is my property which means I can –”

“Rodney,” Andy interrupts, his voice eerily calm. “Where are your tools?”

“What?” You and he both ask at the same time.

“Mr. Perkins, you just said that you were here to fix Y/N’s door. But you also seem to have left your toolbox at home.” This time there’s no mistaking the quiet ice in his tone.

Oh god. Your eyes go wide as everything begins to click into place.

“I…I must have left ‘em in the truck or something.” The older, slightly greasy looking man responds nervously as he shifts from foot to foot. “I’ll go, uh, check on that.”

“Rodney, how come you never called to ask me what the police found?” You poke your man in the back, silently willing him to step aside so that you can face down your landlord.

“Figured it couldn’t have been much of anything.” He shrugs as he starts to back out of the door. “Ain’t much cops can do about a few missing panties. Anyway, you’ll, uh, actually have to excuse me. Gotta meet a plumber over at one of my houses on 95th. It was good seeing you, Archie.”

“Right.” You grunt, trying to tamp down the bile rising in your throat. “Except I never told you about that.”

“Sure you did. You said –”

“No!” You cut him off with an angry wave of your hand. “I never said a damned thing about what the fuck was missing from my apartment." You were about two seconds away from epically losing your shit. "You disgusting fucking pig.”

“You-you don’t know what you’re talking about.” Rodney hisses. “You’re clearly confused and more than a little emotional, so I’m gonna leave you with hotshot here so you can calm down.” He turns on his heel, fully prepared to bolt.

But Andy is faster.

Before you can form another coherent thought, your man hauls your landlord back inside with a hand wrapped around his neck.

“Let me go!” He squeaks, clawing at his throat. “I didn’t do anything! Y/N, tell him!”

“You know what, Perkins? I don’t think I will.” Andy snarls, ignoring the other man’s struggles as he applies even more pressure. “Could’ve sworn I made myself real clear the last time we had words. And then you pull this shit?”

“Andy.” You say, pressing the heels of your palms over your eyes.

“What the hell’d you do, man? Use ‘em to jack off while thinking about my girl? I oughta rip your dick off and –”

“ANDY.” Your man finally turns to you, his face a mask of pure, unadulterated fury.

“Let him go. Please.”

“No.” Instead of complying, you’re pretty sure Andy tightens his grip some more. Virtually cutting off the man’s oxygen supply. “Baby girl, you didn’t see your eyes when you came to me the other night. The fear I saw...” He shakes his head. “I never want to see that kind of shit again in those big, beautiful eyes.”

“But I’m safe now.” You tell him as you go to rest a calming hand on his arm. “You’ve made your point. And I think that after all this, I’m sure Rodney will be more than willing to let me out of my lease a little early. Isn’t that right?” Finally, your boyfriend lets go, letting the man crumple to the floor.

“Ri-right!” He wheezes as he fights to pull air back into his burning lungs.

“Along with returning my security deposit. And maybe I’ll decide not to press charges.”

“Now, wait a minute –!” Rodney lets out a small squeal when Andy suddenly crouches down next to him.

“Sorry, but I think my girl misspoke. You’re going to refund her security deposit, plus this month’s rent. And in return, I’ll let you keep on living, whether she decides to file charges or not. We good, Perkins?”

He nods as he struggles to his feet with the help of the wall.

“Glad we have an understanding. I’ll mail you my keys by the end of next week. Now please kindly get the fuck out of my apartment."

For once in his life, it seems that Rodney Perkins doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s out the door without another word. And just like that, you and Andy find yourselves alone once again.

You tug on the belt loops of your man’s jeans, wanting to make sure he was alright.

“I’m fine, Y/N.” He tells you, his eyes never leaving your now empty doorway.

“Are you actually? Because I’m not sure I am.”

“Okay. I’m not.”

“Hey.” You rise up on your tiptoes, trying your best to block his line of sight and make him refocus his attention. “You know what might help?”

“Chasing that fucker down and dangling him off the roof of this building?”

You're pretty sure he’s joking. Mostly.

“That’s one option I suppose. Or…” You trail off, feeling your belly flutter when he finally gazes down at you.

“Or what?” Andy asks, his voice gruff.

“We could go home.” You lightly stroke your knuckles along his jaw. “And you could take me to our bed, where we can spend hours getting lost in one another, until today fades away.” You pull his face down to your level so you can tease his lips with yours.

“Take me home, Andy.”

Take me home.

END

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