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fayes-fics · 10 months ago

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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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mariacallous · 25 days ago

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Earlier this week, journalists at WIRED and The Washington Post reported that a “Russian-aligned propaganda network notorious for creating deepfake whistleblower videos” appears to be behind a coordinated effort to promote false sexual misconduct allegations against vice presidential candidate Tim Walz.

At WIRED, David Gilbert wrote that researchers have linked a group they’re calling “Storm-1516” to the campaign against Walz. “Storm-1516 has a long history of posting fake whistleblower videos, and often deepfake videos, to push Kremlin talking points to the West,” Gilbert explained. A few days earlier, NBC News also reported on Storm-1516, citing its work as demonstrative of Russian propaganda’s growing utilization of artificial intelligence and more sophisticated bot networks.

Two days after the WIRED report, Washington Post journalist and Russia expert Catherine Belton reported on another bad actor implicated in spreading the allegations against Walz: John Mark Dougan, a former Florida cop with a long and winding record that includes internal affairs investigations, early discharge from the Marines, and a penchant for posting confidential data about thousands of police officers, federal agents, and judges on his blog, which led to 21 state charges of extortion and wiretapping. To escape that indictment, Dougan fled to Moscow, where he soon put his conspiratorial blogging skills to work, effectively enlisting in the Russian intelligence community’s “Internet war” against America.

Records show and disinformation researchers argue that Dougan is responsible for content on dozens of fake news sites with deliberately misleading names like DC Weekly, Chicago Chronicle, and Atlanta Observer. Lately, he’s reportedly started using a GRU-facilitated server and AI generator to create phony videos like the deepfake video showing one of Walz’s former students accusing him of sexual abuse.

With a little more than a week until the U.S. presidential election, Meduza spoke to Renée DiResta — the author of Invisible Rulers: The People Who Turn Lies Into Reality and an associate research professor at Georgetown University’s McCourt School of Public Policy — about Russian propaganda, how it’s evolved over the years, and how American social networks are responding (and not responding) ahead of the November 2024 vote.

Timestamps for this episode:

(5:00) The Role of Social Networks in Identifying Fake Accounts

(9:35) Government and Platform Collaboration on Inauthentic Behavior

(16:46) A Case Study: Maxim Shugaley and Russian Influence in Libya

(21:45) Twitter’s Public Data Dilemma

(24:25) Bespoke Realities and Content Moderation

(25:57) The Tenet Media Case

(27:28) The Role of Influencers in Propaganda

(35:26) Marketing and Propaganda: A Historical Perspective

(38:27) The Democratization of Propaganda

(39:36) Name Your Poison: Tyranny or Chaos

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genyawritesshizz · 7 months ago

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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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koukouture · 20 days ago

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I think everyone has their own Transformers continuity living inside their head so here's mine:

(technically I have two I but think this one is more interesting)

Okay first of all I'm flipping things a little- experienced leader and soldier Optimus and a younger, more inexperienced Megatron who's a prodigy. Do you see the vision??? Optimus who leads by example and wisdom vs Megatron who has the fire of youth and wants to revolutionize everything but lacks experience and humility.

For this hypothetical universe- Orion Pax is a police officer and Megatron is an aimless youth who recently earned his freedom from the Gladitorial scene via a sponsor (Starscream but I'll get to that later) On that- Megatron has his name already because it's a nickname he got during his gladiatorial days and now he's just kinda rolling with it lol. Orion is kind to a fault but undeniably wise and is set for a promotion to chief of his precinct and Megatron is the rookie who gets to shadow him.

(Note: The age disparity isn't extreme like Orion isn't Megatron's dad it's more of a senior/junior or older brother/younger brother type situation. I don't like these two having such a large gap between them because they're yk rivals. Equals. That doesn't work when there's a power disparity. And I think Megatron's rough life has made him quite mature anyways)

They work together for a time and the most interesting part of this whole thing (at least in my opinion) is that Megatron is the much more effective fighter. So it becomes this cute buddy cop thing for a while where Megatron is the brawns and Orion is the brain which will eventually parallel how Megatron becomes the weapon or instrument of destruction while Optimus is the reason or guiding light.

So when they inevitably have their disastrous split Orion is actually horrendously outmatched and dies. But you know, Optimus rises from the ashes and his strength as a Prime gives him just enough leverage over Megatron.

This will lead to Optimus shutting down his emotions- not necessarily becoming cruel or cold but just very distant as he believed that his kindness made him weak. Megatron meanwhile isn't exactly kind- but he has compassion and conviction. He's a good public speaker and a relatable figure to many people who are oppressed. That is how he rallies people to his cause.

What's interesting about Starscream in this AU/continuity is that he's almost Megatron's mentor. Starscream is a noble who sponsored Megatron's last fight and essentially bought him his freedom. Why? Starscream is a hedonist- everything he does is in pursuit of his own pleasure and enjoyment. He frees Megatron because even as a gladiator he was outspoken and it entertained Starscream. He joins and funds the Decepticons because he enjoys the revolution and carnage. He helps Megatron initially because Megatron's ideas entertain him. Starscream doesn't actually believe in anything; that's why he's chosen to be a follower. As for his eventual and inevitable betrayal of Megatron- he does so because he felt like it. I think the moral dilemma of "what does it mean to have a "good" reason?" is very interesting because is chasing after your own pleasure hollow or is it a worthwhile endeavor? (yes it's because of final fantasy Zenos sue me)

To parallel Starscream we have Shockwave who is a nihilist. Shockwave also believes in nothing and joins Megatron's side on a whim because the Decepticons approve and would fund his inhumane experiments. My running idea here is that Shockwave was originally a pretty upbeat, cool guy who was also after his own pleasure but eventually fell into depravity which may or may not be an indicator of where Starscream ends up.

I don't have much on the Autobots for this continuity, however I will say that Sentinel and Optimus are at odds for a while as the last two Primes. Sentinel is much more morally ambiguous and desperate while Optimus is more firm in him beliefs. It's this odd inversion of Orion and Megatron's dynamic where Sentinel is spineless and impulsive and Optimus is one again the voice of reason. But you can't exactly say that Sentinel is wrong- he is willing to do anything to survive which has earned him his status as a Prime while Optimus wants to minimize sacrifice. It's this push and pull of "you cannot save everyone" and "I have to try and save everyone." Yes, even though Optimus tries to shut down his emotions he is still incredibly sympathetic and not as unfeeling as he's like himself to be. Sentinel is the same but only suppresses his negative emotions and tries to put on a brave face for the Autobots. So when Sentinel dies and Optimus becomes the last Prime standing and the sole leader of the Autobots they take a blow to their morale.

Anyways yeah that's all I got because if I say anything else stupid shit will come out of my mouth and I will also never shit up

#is this too much nuance for a franchise about giant transforming robots fighting each other?#probably lol #can you tell i'm a decepticon girly lmao #transformers #maccadam #megatron #optimus prime #orion pax #d16 #shockwave #starscream transformers

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dragoneyes618 · 6 months ago

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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

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the-garbanzo-annex-jr · 2 months ago

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Reports that some police officers don’t want to be deployed to protect Jewish institutions over moral objections to the violence in Gaza and Lebanon have caused outrage in the Netherlands. The police said it makes space for officers’ moral objections and switches shifts to accommodate for that where possible, but if there is an emergency or urgent situation, police officers respond regardless of their personal feelings. Justice Minister David van Weel and several parliamentarians are very critical.

“During the preparations that were made for the security of the Holocaust Museum, there were colleagues who did not want to be deployed there,” Michiel Theeboom, part of the Jewish Police Network within the national police, told the Telegraaf. “They talk about ‘moral dilemmas,’ and I see a tendency to give in to that.” He called that very concerning and “the beginning of the end.”

Mireille Beentjes, a spokesperson for the police force management, confirmed that there are police officers who object to certain assignments. “There is no strict policy for this. The line is that police officers are allowed to have moral objections,” she told the Telegraaf. “We take moral objections into account when drawing up schedules. But if there is an urgent response, you are simply deployed. Whether you object or not. You have to behave professionally. Others should not notice anything.”

Beentjes said that objections aren’t isolated to Jewish institutions. Officers also have moral objections to being deployed to farmers' protests, climate protests, and the Koran burning by Pegida. “It hurts them when the Koran is burned, but at the same time, they have to protect the people who do it,” she said.

#netherlands #moral objections #mireille beentjes #dutch police

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holykratos · 1 year ago

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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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