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abbacchiosbelt · 3 years

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Someone Great | Yandere!Satoru Gojo x GN!Reader

Word Count: 3.1k.

CW: Manipulation, yandere behavior, kidnapping. SFW but allusions to not sfw acts.

"What's wrong, sugar?"

Gojo's sing-song voice makes you cringe - he knows what's wrong. It's just like him to play the fool, to pretend that he was innocent in all of this and that you were the one with the problem. You glare at him and he holds his hands up, the grin on his face never faltering.

"You know I'm just doing this to keep you safe. How many times do I have to tell you—"

You cut him off, repeating the phrase he had attempted to drill into your head back to him. "You're the strongest. No need to tell me again."

Gojo shrugs, unbothered. "I'm the strongest." You roll your eyes at his need to repeat what you'd just said, the words only meant to stroke his out-of-control ego. Gojo plops down where you're tied up on his couch, snaking an arm around your shoulder. Even if you pulled away, there would be no escape from him. Some bullshit jujutsu sorcery kept you bound to your current spot, unable to move. Gojo squeezes your shoulders with his broad arm, making you wince. "C'mon, at least look at me. You know I love you."

Anyone else in the world would be lucky to see Gojo's eyes and hear those words from him - you'd felt lucky once, too. But that was before Gojo took an interest in you, before he took control of your life.

"Baby," he sighs, pressing a peck to your cheek. "You've gotta get used to this. You can't keep fighting me forever. I know you love me too."

"It's been a week," you spit. "A week since you trapped me here."

"And haven't I treated you well?" Gojo replies, calm.

"I would never hurt you. You'll realize one day that this is what's best for you."

There was a distinct divide in the world you lived in - there were civilians, and there were Jujutsu Sorcerers. With the sorcerers came curses, although the average civilian wasn't meant to be aware of curses or what they entailed. You, however, had become a frequent flyer when it came to needing the help of Jujutsu Sorcerers.

When you were born, a curse attached itself to your back. Later, you'd learn that there was a man in the hospital room with your parents meant to dispatch the very thing that had attached itself to your back. You were only 5 when your grandmother had told you about the family curse - each child born in your family was cursed upon birth. It had been happening for centuries. Allegedly, one of your ancestors had done something to anger an obscenely powerful curse. Your life would be filled with troublesome events, she'd said. But it wasn't all bad. There were people in this world who could dispatch such curses. They could see them, unlike you or your family. Your life wouldn't be easy, but it wasn't over before it began.

It wasn't easy. People tended to avoid you, even when you were young and innocent. It was hard to make friends, and most of the interaction you got aside from your family involved the sorcerers dispatched to take care of the ever-returning curse on your back. They were kind to you, but they were always distant. You did the best you could, hoping that one day someone would be able to see past the gloomy aura that followed you around.

That someone came in the form of one Satoru Gojo, dispatched to dispel your curse when you were in your mid-twenties. You had recently moved and registered with the local technical college. By now, it wasn't a big deal to you to tell people about your curse, especially to jujutsu sorcerers. They always were a bit odd, and though you had never grown close to any of the sorcerers who had serviced you, their presence was more calming than the presence of your peers.

Gojo had been sent to your home, the technical college hoping to ease your burden (and unknown to you, hoping to offload Gojo for just a couple of hours) by not making you take the train. His arrival was like no other jujutsu sorcerer you had met - he'd barged in your house without knocking, a broad smile on his face and stylish sunglasses covering his eyes.

The shriek you made at his surprise intrusion was undignified, but the white-haired sorcerer didn't seem bothered. He had laughed and rubbed the back of his head. "Aah, sorry. I thought this was an urgent deal." He raises his eyebrows as he watches your lips contort into a frown. "I'll knock next time."

"You'd better," you mumble, and Gojo smiles.

"Or else?" He quips, taking a step towards you. You didn't even know this man, and he was acting like this? This is who the technical college had sent over?

"I'll request someone else." You respond, curt. He laughs, loud and jovial. What was with this man?

"They didn't tell you about me, then?" He crosses the distance between the two of you and sticks his hand out, tongue poking out of his mouth. You take his hand, dubious, and he shakes it with vigor. "I'm Satoru Goju, and I'm the strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer."

You stare at him for a moment, dumbfounded. He really had an ego on him. He takes your silence in stride, still smiling. "I know. You don't meet people like me every day. But trust me, I'm here to help you. Don't you feel better knowing that I'm here?"

As much as you wanted to tell him no, that he's a certified, over-bearing maniac who just barged into your house... You can't help but bask in the comforting aura he emits. Something about him, despite his manic personality, felt safe. The air in the room felt calming—

Gojo notices your sudden shift in behavior and tilts his head, still smiling "When we shook hands. No need to worry about it coming back for a while."

"Oh," you reply, amazed. It didn't take the other sorcerers long to dispel the curse on your back, but it usually was a bit of an affair. Satoru Gojo had gotten rid of the damn thing without needing to lift his pinky finger. "Well... Thanks." You shift from side to side, suddenly feeling small in his presence. Maybe he really was the strongest.

Gojo puts his hands in his pockets and leans back, relaxed. "If you really want to thank me, let's go into town. I'm starved."

The awe you felt immediately dissipates and turns back into annoyance. Sure, he had done you a great favor, but it was part of a contract you had with the college. Now he wanted food? Still... You couldn't deny that you were curious about him, even if he was managing to press all your buttons upon your very first meeting. You sigh, resigned to the fact that you knew you would regret it if you didn't take him up on his offer.

"Fine. Let me grab my bag." Gojo claps his hands together at your response, humming contentedly.

"Great! I have a bit of a sweet tooth, so I hope you're okay with sweets for lunch..."

Gojo goes on and on about his favorites while you grab your bag, fighting with yourself not to roll your eyes at him. What had the college gotten you into?

II.

As time passes and Gojo visits you to remove your clingy curse, the two of you grow closer. It's slow, at first. He gloms onto the fact that he annoys you and revels in it, smiling with glee every time you roll your eyes at him. At one point, he removes his shades when he arrives and teases you about the expression on your face for the rest of the day. It's like he can read your mind - you want to kick yourself for being so obvious, but it's impossible with someone like Gojo around. No matter what he does or how much he makes your blood boil, the calming aura surrounding him never falters. You feel at home around him. When you start to feel something tugging at your heart whenever he's around, you know you're at the point of no return.

You don't expect anything, though. Gojo is beyond your level - it's not a judgment of yourself, but simply a fact of life. Besides, Jujutsu Sorcerers were hesitant to get in relationships with civilians from what you'd learned over the years. You couldn't blame them, as their line of duty would put their partner in harm's way. The least they could do was be with another sorcerer who was able to defend themselves.

It comes to a head one evening when Gojo had stopped by unannounced. You weren't due for another curse removal, but you didn't mind his company. You had answered the door in your pajamas, not expecting anyone other than perhaps a neighbor wanting to ask you a question. Instead, you opened the door to see Gojo standing there dressed to the nines and holding a gigantic bag from the sweets store you and he frequented.

"U-uh." You stammer, feeling at a loss for words. "Gojo?"

He shifts from side to side, and you catch the tiniest hint of nervousness from him. Odd. "I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop by. I know you're curse-free right now, but I always want to check on you."

You balk at how smoothly he'd confessed, ushering him in without saying another word. You weren't sure what to say - had Gojo really just said what you think he'd said? He always wanted to check on you? Surely he meant it platonically, there was no way he looked at you romantically.

Gojo sits down on your couch likes he owns it and pats the spot next to him. You sit down without thinking, watching Gojo carefully as he unloads the bag of sweets on the coffee table. He talks about the different sweets as he places them gently onto the table. His blindfold had been pushed up, revealing those sparkling blue eyes of his that made you feel like you could gaze at him forever.

"Are you even listening?" You snap your head towards Gojo, finding his lips just a breadth away from yours. He had moved closer, close enough so that you could feel the warmth of his body, and you had been too distracted by your thoughts about him to notice the very real physicality of him.

"Gojo," you mumble, He pulls back a little and simply gazes into your eyes, waiting for you to continue. For a man who always talked, he was being rather quiet right now. "Why did you come here?"

Gojo smiles, soft - it's a look you haven't seen on him before. "Why else?" He leans towards you, oh-so-close again. "I can't stay away from you."

Whatever self-control you had is gone, and you lean forward to press your lips against his. He responded immediately, using one of his broad hands to cup your face as he deepens the kiss. The tension between the two of you is palpable, and the heat flooding through your veins is telling you more, more, more—

But just like that, he pulls away, sighing.

"Gojo?" You ask, concerned. Was it you? He looks at you, the longing in his eyes obvious.

"You know you can call me Satoru," He says, playful. But a second later, his face falls into a serious expression again. "I want this. I want you." He turns to face you, sliding one of his hands onto your thigh. "But this isn't what jujutsu sorcerers do. The danger you would be in if we were together... I can't put you through that."

As much as you want to argue, you know he's telling you the truth. You place a hand atop his. "Satoru, then. I think it's obvious I want this too." He smiles and gives your thigh a tiny squeeze. "I won't force you to do something you're not comfortable with. But, you'll still be my friend, won't you?"

Gojo chuckles, but there's no mirth in his laugh. "Who else would annoy you? Ah... I could never be without you, either." He turns away from you and stares into the distance, closing his eyes. "Maybe..." He shakes his head suddenly and turns back towards you.

"I should go." He bites his lip, staring at you. "Or maybe... just once. We could be together."

Oh. Oh.

"I'd love to, Satoru."

III.

Once turns into twice, and twice turns into three times. Gojo departs after cleaning your sheets and making you breakfast, ignoring your pleas that he didn't have to do any of that. 'It's the least I can do,' he'd said, smiling all the while. It had felt off, though - like there was something unsaid. You'd chalked it off to melancholy over the fact that things could go no further, and had spent the rest of the day busying yourself with chores.

The visits continue, though, even when you don't have a curse that needs expelling. Things don't make it to the bedroom again, but Gojo is intense. His eyes are always on you, and he's practically plastered to your side. When you go out he keeps his distance, but he's always on alert. He takes your hand when he knows no one is looking and sneaks kisses to the top of your head in private. You accept it, knowing that this is how things have to be.

It concerns you when suddenly, Gojo starts to appear at your apartment every day. You'd thought about giving him a key, but you couldn't remember if you had or not - yet he had a key, and he'd told you that you'd very much given it to him. Perhaps it was the curse muddling with your memory, he'd suggested. It had happened before.

It's fine, then. He's just looking out for you - it's the best he can do in the current situation. Gojo starts to spend the night, walking around your apartment at inane hours to make sure things were okay. When you're sleeping, he checks your phone (he'd watched you put in the password) and your calendar. He deletes texts from people he doesn't approve of and removes calendar dates when they interfere with his schedule. It's all to keep you safe, of course. You are the most important thing in the world to him.

You're blissfully unaware of this, writing off any strange incidents happening to you simply because of the curse that clung to your back. Even when it wasn't present, it still appeared to meddle in your life. As long as Gojo was there, though, you felt safe.

You never expect Gojo to be the one who makes you feel unsafe.

IV.

A particularly busy week at work left you unable to see Gojo for longer than usual - you were working, and he was out of the country on official business. You couldn't answer his calls or texts like usual, only replying every once and a while when you had the chance.

When Gojo returned, he was angry. You'd never seen him angry before, yet here he stood in front of you, eyebrows furrowed as he lectured you about answering his texts. It was unusual, and it felt wrong. You weren't dating him. You were just friends. That had been established by Gojo himself, so why was he acting like this?

"Satoru, you're not my boyfriend. You don't need to keep track of me every second. Even if we were dating, it'd still be too much."

He grits his teeth at that, clearly not impressed. "Don't you understand how much you mean to me? I can't stand it when I'm not with you."

You give him a pointed look. "This is... too much. I don't like it when you act like this." As much as you cared about him, this was ridiculous. He wasn't your keeper. You think of the threat you made the first day you met him. "I can request someone else to dispel my curse." He glares at you. "We'll still be friends. We just need some time apart."

"You don't get it." Gojo scolds. "I didn't want to do this, but I can't take it any longer. You can't take care of yourself. I need to protect you." He's on you faster than you can blink, and the last thing you see before your vision goes black is his angry expression softening back into bliss. "Just go to sleep. We'll be home soon."

When you wake up, you're in a strange room with no windows. It's pitch black, but whatever you're laying on is heavenly. It's plush, and it smells like Gojo— Gojo. You panic, sitting up in a hurry and rushing towards the door. Locked. You shake the handle and pound on the door, confused and terrified. "Satoru? Are you there?" You yell, panic in your throat. "Please, let's talk! Please, Satoru!"

The door swings open and you fall back, gazing up at the towering figure before you. Gojo had never intimidated you, but the way he stood above you now was terrifying.

"How are you feeling, sugar? I hope that didn't hurt." He steps into the room and flicks on the light switch, alighting the room with a soft blue glow. He crouches in front of you and pushes his blindfold up, a manic smile crossing his lips. "I love you. I want to keep you safe. This is the best solution," Gojo says. "It's the easiest solution."

"W-what?" You're baffled by his words, by his behavior. What had he done? "Satoru, this isn't... This isn't normal. You have to let me out of here." You pause, trying to think of something to push him towards your favor. "We can figure our relationship out. I-I didn't mean what I said about requesting someone new, I just got scared."

"And I don't want you to be scared of anything," Gojo says, giving your head a condescending pat. "You won't be as long as you're here with me."

You grunt, frustrated. He was the reason you were scared! "I can't stay here forever. You won't do this to me."

"I will." Gojo tilts his head. "I told you, I love you. I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe."

Tears well in your eyes - what else could you say or do? Nothing was getting through to him. Gojo notices the tears brimming in your eyes and leans forward, wrapping his arms around you. What once felt comforting feels suffocating, the warmth of his body and the familiar scent of him all too much.

"This is what's best for you. I promise."

#jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #gender neutral reader #yandere #yandere satoru gojo #manipulation cw #kidnapping cw #my writing #jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere gojo

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some-messed-up-writing-for-you · 3 years

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I really liked this prompt by @nuttynutcycle and felt the need to write something with it. Soo, here it is! (NOTE: the story starts before the prompt, so it appears in the middle.)

Warning: none.

~~~~ Flying through the air, Hero held onto Villain's body so hard they swore they could feel their knuckles cracking. All their limbs had tightly wrapped around the other as soon as they jumped out of the burning building, the hero's face buried in the other's shoulder to not inhale the smoke, and also so they wouldn't have to see the destruction around them.

The entire city had fallen into ruin, and the villain's henchmen were everywhere. Hero wasn't aware they had so many people working for them, as their enemy only ever had a couple of men with them. But- But this? This was an army.

Was that all part of the plan? Was Villain sparely using their minions to trick the hero? To make them think they weren't capable of something like this?

To make them think they couldn't possibly take over the capital city? Take over the country?

...

As the villain's boots thumped against solid ground, they loosened their hold on Hero, letting them crumple to the floor and frantically scramble away until their wounds forced them to stop moving. Villain had flown them both over to a nearby rooftop, which building had yet to catch aflame.

From their spot on the ground, the hero shivered under their nemesis' silent stare. As a fire burned brightly in the distance behind the villain, their form became shrouded in shadows, adding to their terrifying aura.

The silence was unbearable, and Hero decided to be the first one to break it.

"Y-You saved me." - The hero trembled like a leaf in the wind, head still swimming from the intensity of the last few minutes. "W-Why?"

Villain, still quiet, slowly approached them, making them tense up in anticipation. Hero's breathing grew shaky as their enemy knelt beside them and gently cradled their face with one hand.

"I want you there when I win." - The villain brushed their cheek softly, a small smile on their face. "Whether it's by my side or at my feet is up to you."

"I- I-" - the hero struggled to answer, stuttering out nonsense as they looked into the other's dark eyes. Villain's smile fell at their hesitance, and they flinched in fright as the criminal let go of their face and stood back at full height, towering over them again.

Taking deep breaths in hopes of calming their racing heart, Hero observed as their nemesis walked to the nearby edge of the rooftop, just a few steps away from their shaking body. Villain looked out over the burning city, one arm neatly held behind their back and the other one resting on the parapet wall protecting them from falling off the building.

Not that it mattered if the villain fell off or not. With how many powers they had, Hero was, at this point, pretty convinced nothing could hurt them.

"That would be the correct assumption to make." - Villain calmly said, still admiring the view.

Confusion decorated Hero's face shortly before they realized what had happened. Telekinesis. You can add that to the endless list of their abilities.

Expression still neutral, the villain asked, "Hero, do you want to know how I managed to pull this off?"

Honestly, the hero just wanted this craziness to end, but they'd be lying if they said that their curiosity wasn't eating away at them. So, like the cat that put his nose where it didn't belong, they replied, "I- I do..."

Slightly turning their head to look at their nemesis, Villain quietly explained, "I became a god."

Worry instantly gripped Hero's chest at the other's answer. What- What was that supposed to mean? They- They were a human! A powerful one, true, but... b-but a god? H-How-

"How could y-you possibly achieve s-something like- like that?"

The villain smiled again, and the hero really wasn't liking the look on their face. It made them feel weak, like they were only prey waiting to get caught.

"You're not like the others, Hero... Surely you've noticed over the years how I became stronger and stronger?"

Hero... Hero had noticed it. The process was gradual, barely visible unless you've been there from the start like they had been. It went from Villain getting shot, going into hiding, and reappearing a few days later fully recovered to Villain conveniently surviving deadly explosions or poisons. Until, eventually, years later, they were straight-up getting their limbs blown off and regrowing them instantly right before the hero's very eyes.

Shakily exhaling, Hero's mind floated to a memory from a few weeks ago, back when this hell had first started. They still remembered the dread that filled them at the sight of their nemesis floating high up in the sky, their voice bellowing across the city as they commanded their army. The sheer amount of power that came off Villain at that moment made the hero's knees nearly give out under them. At that moment, Villain was truly above everyone else in every sense of the word.

"Exactly." - the villain's voice suddenly sounded in their ears, and Hero jumped back as their eyes refocused and recognized that their enemy was suddenly right in their face.

The hero's breath hitched as Villain held their face again, this time with both their hands, as they lowly continued. "I've made myself unkillable, indestructible, invincible."

As a glint of possessiveness shined in the criminal's eyes, Hero's eyebrows furrowed in concern, the villain bringing their faces closer. "And I could- No. I will make you the same, whether you want it or not."

Trembling in the other's grasp, the hero questioned, "B-B-But h-how?"

Resting their foreheads against one another, Villain answered, "The same way I've made myself so powerful... The same way I've made my henchmen so loyal and unbeatable..."

Voice barely above a whisper, they claimed, "I will share my powers with you."

Hero froze, only able to keep listening as the villain caressed their cheek again and continued talking. "Not all of them, of course, but know that... where the hierarchy is concerned... you could be my equal, my partner."

Removing themself from their nemesis yet again, Villain loomed over them ominously. "And this is where my question returns, dear Hero."

Standing tall, arms neatly held behind their back, their mere presence demanded that the hero answer them as their shadow fell over them.

"Do you stand by my side and rule together with me, or... do you go from being the government's dog to being my dog... for all eternity?"

With tears stinging at their eyes, Hero pleaded, "V-Villain, please, just- How?! How c-can you share your-?!"

"It's a power that I stole."

"Wh- What...?"

Eyes shining brighter than the fire, the villain explained once more, "My power... The power that I was born with... Is the ability to steal the powers of others."

As they ranted, they looked off into the distance, for a moment getting lost in the past. "And over the years... I've gathered every power that I'd need and more."

Turning back to the hero, they ignored the fear in the other's eyes. "With time, I've learned how to mutate them, how to combine them to make them even stronger, to make myself stronger."

Done explaining, they squared their shoulders. "Now, answer me." - Villain growled out, odd desperation in their voice. "Will you lay at my side or at my feet?"

Hero stared at them for a long while, battling internally before ultimately, their gaze turned away from them, making them sigh in frustration. Clearly, they had to go about this a different way.

"Hero, you can't deny that we're not so different."

That got the hero's attention again, so the villain continued, "We both want what's best for this country."

Now it was Hero's turn to get upset, their face twisted into an appalled snarl as they demanded, "What's best for the country...?! HOW IS THIS WHAT'S BEST FOR THE COUNTRY?!"

They pointed at the destruction around them, nostrils blaring, as they paid no heed to the pain in their lungs, and Villain had to take a deep breath due to the other's stubbornness. Why did they have to be so difficult?

"Changes needed to be made. The system was broken, and you know it."

"W-Well yes, but-" - Hero faltered, trying to argue back, but their enemy cut them off.

"But what? Have you bothered to make a change, hmm? Bothered to take action?"

Not awaiting a response, Villain answered for them. "No, you didn't. You just followed your little orders, thinking that things would magically turn better."

"How is this better...?" - Hero croaked out, losing hope of winning this argument.

Frustrated, the villain yelled, startling the other. "GAH! JUST TAKE A PROPER LOOK AROUND, HERO!"

The criminal grabbed their nemesis by the arm and effortlessly dragged them over to the edge, making them look at the city, this time not through the lens of fear but the lens of truth.

As they finally took a real look at what was happening, a look not misguided by being down there in the heat of the moment, Hero noticed the way Villain's henchmen weren't attacking the civilians, but rather... escorting them away from the danger...?

They finally saw how the people willingly went with them, how they didn't even look scared of them. No, they only grew frightened when... when the heroes showed up... and... started mindlessly firing in the henchmen's direction..., not caring about the people who would... who would get caught in the crossfire...

...

"Do you understand yet, Hero...?" - Villain softly whispered, watching as their henchmen dutifully followed their orders, knocking the heroes out and capturing them, protecting the civilians from the necessary chaos.

"I want peace... I want equality... I want things to be right just as much as you do..."

As the wind softly blew against them, Hero turned to face their... enemy...? and was surprised to see tears spilling from their eyes as they continued.

"...But I can't make things right unless I'm in charge..."

Shaking, Villain questioned, "So tell me, Hero. Are you going to stand in my way? In the way of progress?"

With their fists clenching at their sides, the villain whispered painfully, "I don't want to force you to your knees..., but I will do it if I have to."

The hero looked at them, an array of emotions on their face, their own tears having fallen down their cheeks long ago. They opened their mouth to reply but failed to utter even a word. With conflicted feelings, their face scrunched up in thought, their gaze returning to the city below.

Villain stood beside them silently, awaiting their answer. Their body was more tense than the day they had opened fire upon the city. They didn't want to hurt Hero. They didn't. But... But if they had no other choice...

"Villain..." - the hero's meek voice barely reached their ears, but they stiffened nonetheless. "You..."

Arms suddenly wrapped around the villain's waist as Hero held onto them, muttering into their shoulder with an unsteady voice.

"...You better not make me regret this..."

With hope twinkling in their eyes, Villain asked, "D-Does... Does that mean you...?"

"I'll join you. I'll be at your side."

Relief flooded Villain's entire being at the hero's decision. They returned the embrace, tightly holding onto the other as if they would disappear at any moment.

"Thank you, Hero... And..., I'm sorry..."

Sorry? About what-?

Pain suddenly erupted in Hero's chest, their first thought being betrayal as their entire body burned with agony. They screamed and thrashed, trying to get away, but Villain held onto them with an unyielding grip, their heart aching at the hero's frantic shouts and thoughts.

Luckily, the whole ordeal only lasted about a minute, and Hero fell limp in the other's hold once it was over, breathing shakily, a few sobs escaping them from the unexpected pain and stress. As their heart rate began to slow back down and their mind had managed to calm down, they noticed that something was different and gasped quietly, as they felt something inside of themself.

Power.

So, so much power it made them shudder.

Was... Was this how Villain always...?

No, the villain didn't feel like this; they were stronger. Much stronger. Hero could feel it now, could feel the power thrumming inside their ex-nemesis. And as their mind focused, in the distance, all around them, they could sense Villain's henchmen, and even then, all the henchmens' and Hero's power combined was nothing compared to the villain's.

Villain was so much grander than all of them. They...

They really did become a god.

...

The feeling of a hand gently rubbing circles into their back brought the hero back to the present. Their eyes had closed at some point, so they fluttered them open again and lifted themself off the villain's shoulder.

Oh, when had they fallen to the ground? Both of them were on their knees, Hero's legs must've given out, and Villain probably lowered the two of them.

"I'm really sorry about that..." - the villain apologized again, a bit of concern on their face. "How... How do you feel?"

It was then that Hero noticed that they felt... good. Amazing even. They felt better than they ever had before. They were so full of energy, and their wounds had disappeared too.

"I-I'm good." - they eventually responded with a small smile. "And apology accepted."

With a smile of their own, Villain pulled themself to their feet, the hero moving with them. They stood there in silence for a few seconds, softly holding each other's hands. Both their gazes momentarily caught on one another's lips, but no. That could wait. After all, they had all the time in the world now and... some more pressing matters at hand.

Calling forth their power, the villain slowly lifted themself into the air, Hero following suit, listening intently as their partner instructed them on how to use their new powers. Together, they went off, conquering the country and at last making things right.

#hero x villain #villain x hero #writing #writeblr #prompt #writing prompt #short story #story #hero x villain community #writing community

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weareallstardustfallen · 3 years

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Minecraft world building is always interesting!! What are your nether worldbuilding ideas? T

well i do Not feel like giving the entire 4k so i will just talk about my thoughts on the history of the nether bc that is the part that i like best of it

so the nether was canonically not always like that; the soul sand valley might have once been "a habitable paradise full of huge, bygone creatures," the ancient debris is the remains of historical netherite mining by piglins, stuff like that. as such, i decided that i wanted to take what we're given in the game, use that to figure out what the original nether was like, and then go from there to the modern nether.

and me and @bananasofthorns were listening to some of the ambiance tracks for the different nether biomes, and we realized that hey, some of these sound very Hm. like, there's a couple in the basalt deltas that sound a little like laughter, or like war drums. and after listening to literally all of the nether ambiance tracks and tossing ideas back and forth and such, i settled on this idea, under the cut because it's Long:

the nether was originally a much more habitable place, with a lot more biodiversity than exists now. originally, there were four intelligent races, not just piglins, and they were loosely settled into the four biomes which existed at the time- the crimson forests, the nether wastes, the basalt deltas, and the soul sand valleys, though they weren't very wasteland-y or soul sand-y at all, so they were probably called something else.

the soul sand valley was home to a bunch of very powerful mages, as well as the massive beasts which became the fossils. they were probably the most able to use magic of all of the societies, and any overworld enchantments which can be found originated in the nether (like the ones on piglin armor) are actually a completely different form of that enchantment derived from ancient enchanted books from this society; soul speed was essentially reverse-engineered from them. the valleys were probably the most utopian of all the biomes at the time, full of many, many different kinds of flora and fauna.

the basalt deltas, on the other hand, were very hostile even then, with practically nothing living there except for the delta warriors. they were very warlike and probably conquerors, and were the ones who built the nether fortresses for military purposes. they spent decades at war with the valley mages, and while they most definitely had access to some pretty powerful magic it was not to their level of artistry.

there was also a society in the nether wastes, which has been next to forgotten. both the biome and the people were caught in the crossfire between the valley mages and the delta warriors and over a very long period of time, their entire civilization pretty much got wiped out. the land itself is still basically barren, and sometimes unstable.

the fourth, of course, was the piglins of the crimson forests. they didn't get involved with the wars, and managed to avoid getting much damage from the massive amount of fighting. they, and the hoglins, are the only mobs who are still around from this period of time.

the war did, of course, come to a catastrophic end in what i'm calling the cataclysm. the delta warriors gained access to very powerful and very volatile magic. what did they do with it? attempt to smite the valley mages off the face of the earth, of course- a little too effectively.

they did manage to totally wipe out the valley mages, which was their goal! they decimated the mages, as well as literally every other living thing in the biome, their own society, and did a lot of Bad Shit to the environment of the nether as a whole.

because the area and the people were so charged with magic already, the mages weren't just completely killed- instead, they were trapped in the newly-created soul sand, half-alive, with their souls only being released upon the sand being burnt. the valleys are now completely devastated, and you can hear the mages whispering or calling in the distance, sometimes enough to lure an unwary traveler to their death, though this isn't out of malice.

the delta warriors, also killed by the cataclysm, became the wither skeletons and skeletons of the nether. those who were in the valley at the time of the cataclysm became the wither skeletons due to the magic of the area; they spend their eternities protecting the fortresses they built. those who weren't there are the normal skeletons, forever attempting to provide reinforcements for a battle which is long since over.

and the piglins? they were adversely affected by the cataclysm, of course, everything was, and their glory days are past. but they're alive, where the other two are not- despite this extinction-level event, they are still continuing on, essentially the same as they were before. and this continues even through the most major thing that would harm the crimson forests after the cataclysm, that being the introduction of the warped forests.

the warped forests were essentially corruption which crept in just after the cataclysm when the environment was still unsettled; it began to slowly expand, eating away at the crimson forests, and it is also very... weird, as far as the biomes go. it's not really hostile, it won't kill you to enter or anything and there's even some helpful stuff there, but... it is Deeply Wrong. the endermen there are numb and expressionless, like they're sleepwalking. they never really react to stimuli other than being looked in the eye, but sometimes they scream in the distance like they're being tortured.

and, bonus, because i'm not sure whether it's piglin legend or reality but i think it's cool:

each of the biomes has an Entity to it, not quite sentient but enough to have intent, like a manifestation of the ones who used to live there. it's not quite a god, not quite real, but it is there and you can feel it, when you step into its domain.

the basalt delta is a conqueror imprisoned, the warrior who lost. the Entity of the deltas is trapped far beneath the surface, but it is still there, angry and vengeful, straining to get out, and sometimes you can hear it laughing, or the distant echo of the drums of war. the basalt delta is angry. the basalt delta hates you. the basalt delta wants you fucking dead.

the soul sand valleys are asleep. it's not quite dead, nothing with so much power and life could just die like that, but it isn't quite there, either. the valleys are a tragedy of unimaginable scale, and there is murmuring in the distance, never quite close enough to make out.

the nether wastes are dead. they are barren, empty, lifeless; nothing really grows and nothing really lives. the wastes died a long time ago, even before the cataclysm- the only trace of it is in the occasional odd noise, and the way the rock shifts and crumbles at random, unsettled by the fighting which reduced it to nothing.

the crimson forests are the only one left as it was- weaker, tired, but still alive and still awake and still free. the crimson forests do not get involved with wars not their own, do not play with the kind of power that can reduce a civilization to dust. the crimson forest, and its residents, are survivors above all. they will still be there, living, and so will the forests.

the warped forest, on the other hand... the warped forest is not of the nether. the warped forest is a foreigner, come slinking into the gaps left behind and slowly gaining ground, bit by bit. if any of the biomes has a mind, it's this one- the warped forests make odd, terrifying sounds, and the endermen are screaming in the distance or wandering like ghosts, and there is something laughing, low and heavy.

best not to stay too long.

#mc ambiance noises are TERRIFYING and i love them #if anyone wants to know which ones inspired certain stuff just ask #minecraft #minecraft lore #minecraft worldbuilding #minecraft nether #rain chatter

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myafterlifeisbetterthenyours · 3 years

Note

basically a Striker x male imp with powerful regeneration powers, the two knew each other before Striker worked as a noble assassin, y/n by having these powers was almost always in extreme danger situations (like fighting a noble without a head and still somehow win), the two constantly bickered and usually ended up with broken bones. Now these days they meet again after years without seeing each other and with repressed feelings they finally have time to talk... after fighting a little more

Striker x Male Imp with a healing factor.

You and Striker first met each other years ago.

The two of you ran into each other during a job. You both had been hired to kill some petty mob boss.

Striker was seconds away from killing the target, when you jumped through the guy's skylight splatting onto the ground.

Jumping up you effortlessly killed the mob boss and all his bodyguards.

Striker confronted you outside the building, surprised at how good you look after falling through a plate glass windows.

He told you that was good work, if sloppy, but that was his kill. And he just couldn't tolerate theives.

He was surprised by just how nonchalant you were, as though he were telling you something you'd heard a hundred times.

You told him a job is a job, and you wouldn't hold it against him if it were the other way around. And much to Strikers surprise, you turned, and began walking away from him.

Striker, froze, processing what was happening, before he raised his rifle and blew your brains out.

Usually didn't like shooting people in the back, especially a fellow assassin like you. But hey, you practically asked him to do it.

He began to leave, only for you to suddenly jump him from behind, scratching up his shoulders and back, almost managing to cut his throat.

He threw you off, before spinning around and fired three more shots into your chest. That seemed to keep you down this time.

Dragging himself away, he looked back to find you weren't there.

He found himself on edge for weeks after that, never sure If you were gonna go coming looking for pay back.

He only calmed down after running into you at a bar.

And much to his surprise you didn't seem to hold any animosity towards him, in fact, you actually offered to buy him a drink.

Not wanting to offend you, he said yes.

He ended up actually enjoying the night, the two of you having a lively conversation over a few drinks

He couldnt help but ask about the whole, "I shot you in the head, why aren't you dead" thing.

So over a few glasses of whiskey, you explained that you had a serious healing factor, so serious, you were borderline immortal.

Needless to say Striker was amazed and honestly found it kinda hard to believe.

Although what happened next put it all into perspective.

A large demon walked up to you, saying a few words he sunk a large blade into your chest.

Before he could draw his pistol you placed your hand on his shoulder.

Taking a large gulp of your drink, you pulled the blade from your chest and plunged it into the demons stomach. And like nothing had happened, you went back to the conversation.

After that Striker finished his drink, thanking you before he got the fuck out of there.

That was not the last time you and Striker crossed paths. The two of you often ending up taking the same job.

You always having an advantage as you could just recklessly run into a fight, absorbing every attack before killing the target, and walking away unscathed. Where as Striker had to more carefully think his strikes through.

And much to your surprise and joy, you found that through the many jobs you and Striker fought over, you developed something of a frienemy complex.

As annoying as you stealing his jobs was, he couldn't deny, he was having the most fun of his life.

Striker was an extraordinary Imp and it was exceedingly rare he found anyone on his level. So getting to test his skills against you was great.

The two of you were constantly fighting.

Most of the fights were picked by you, usually finding something petty to fight over.

You found the fights good fun, since you weren't really in any danger and Striker always gave his all in a fight.

Your fights got more common, Striker randomly attacking you on the street. The two of you fighting for hours, both refusing to submit.

Bloody knuckles, bruised bodies and broken noses, the two of you were relentless.

And oddly enough, between the brutal smackdowns and all night benders, you found you began enjoying each other's company.

It was an odd dynamic.

The way you could go from brutal fighting, to casually enjoying a meal together, back to a brutal melee.

Though despite your questionable relationship, the teo of you ended up seeing less and less of each other.

Striker began taking much higher risk jobs, often taking on nobility, and as such becoming harder to find.

While you on the other hand, with the pile of cash you made through your killing work you decided to take up several hobbies.

Painting, music, craft, but you would quickly grow bored of them, they were all too easy.

So you decided to travel, taking up any job that caught your fancy.

You tried to let Striker know, you know, for old times sake. But just couldn't get in contact wirh him.

A by-product of being known as a royal killer, you suppose.

You travelled for a few years, traveling the seven rings, taking up various jobs and drastically expanding your resume.

Eventually you'd find yourself in the wrath ring, finding work on a very quaint little ranch.

Usually you'd spend a couple months on the job before moving on to the next one. You'd done this for years, never sticking around for more than six months.

But you found yourself sticking around.

Life on the ranch was good. It was lots of hard work, but you were never bored. And the annual blood moon festival was always something to look forward too.

And over time, you found yourself genuinely enjoying your work. finally finding some sort of purpose in your life, finding yourself being treated like a member of the family. Eventually you worked your way up to foreman.

It wasn't long after a tornado tore through the ranch, you and another worker getting caught up in it.

Only managing to survive because of your healing factor.

You limped back to the ranch, you had to at least act like you were injured. The whole family was overjoyed to see you alive.

But it wasn't long after that a familiar face showed up.

Striker. In all his cowboy glory.

Initially you were overjoyed, tackling the Imp to the ground. Striker effortlessly throwing you off, before he recognised you.

He seemed just as happy to see you, the two of two sharing a hug.

You couldn't explain it, but it felt amazing to hug the Imp. The two of you sharing an long moment together. Staring into each other's eyes.

Apparently he was in town and looking for work.

You didn't buy it for a second, of course. Striker was a cold blooded killer, not some field hand.

But when the boss asked, you still backed his story, telling the boss he was the hardest working guy you knew.

Which wasn't Untrue.

So Striker began working under you, which was great, since he had to do everything you told him to.

But eventually you confronted him about it, telling him you knew he wasn't there for a field hand job.

Striker tried to keep the facade going, but he quickly gave in and told you he was there for a target.

You figured as much, striker telling you he actually planned on taking the position of foreman, as his cover and after hearing that you knew you couldn't let this opportunity go to waste.

So you didn't.

For the first few weeks he was there, you made sure he got all the grunt work, the two of you often getting into fights like the old times.

Though you did take emense pleasure in watching Striker struggle to do basic field work.

But if striker was one thing, it was adaptable.

And soon enough he was working as hard as anyone.

The two of you became close again, alot like last time, but there seemed to be something new between the two of you.

Like a longing that had grown between the two of you, after spending years apart.

Your feeling would grow come to a head after a trip into town.

Striker would use his first pay check to buy a bottle of local brew. Which in wrath, was essentially moonshine. You'd find a hill not to far from the ranch, before popping the bottle.

The two of you would go through the bottle fairly quickly, reminiscing about the good old days.

Both of you getting more and more inebriated as you dug deeper and deeper into your past.

Telling him you had tried to sat goodbye, but couldn't find him. Striker would admit that he had missed you desperately. Hed tell you how it was only his work that kept his mind off of you.

You would lean in close, inches from each other, leaning in, you'd share a much over due kiss.

You weren't sure how Striker would react. You half expected him to knock your lights out.

But instead, Striker pulled you deeper into the kiss, his hands beginning to roam your body.

The kiss would only grow in intensity, the two of you shedding layer after layer of clothing.

You would embrace each other in that field.

You couldn't remember who was on top, and who was bottom, but you woke up the next morning feeling very satisfied.

The next morning was... interesting.

Youd woken up in lots of interesting situations. But hungover, buck naked in the middle of a field besides your long time friend, was a first.

The weird part though, was that It wasn't awkward.

You woke up about the same time. The two of you just laying there, Basking in the early morning sun.

You would just curl up together for a while, quietly discussing what should happen next.

You were shocked when Striker said he wanted to be with you.

Not really sure how to answer, you just kissed him. The two of you ending up having some early morning sex.

So after hundreds of fights, years apart and a pretty severe hangover, you and Striker were finally together.

Thanks for the request y'all. Usually I like don't write for Striker as I just felt there was a bit too much content surrounding him. My headcanon is a little more intimate than the prompt suggested, but none the less, this was still fun to write. Thanks for reading I hope you liked it.

#helluva boss x reader #helluva boss #headcanon #x reader #helluva boss headcanon #helluva striker #striker #striker x reader #helluva boss striker #helluva boss striker x reader

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mooniefics · 3 years

Text

— beck and call

pairings : yelena / fem reader

word count : 10.2k

tags : one-sided relationship, lowkey master / servant dynamic, eventual smut, mild body worship, dom / sub undertones, power imbalance

warnings : contains nsfw, mildly dub-con at some points, yelena being physically rough w you for disobedience

summary : serving as yelena's personal guard turned out to yield many unexpected consequences.

to say that you were unnerved by the task of guarding an anti-marleyan volunteer would be an understatement.

you hadn't quite digested the fact there even existed a world beyond the walls that had towered over you for your entire life, looming high in the sky like a reminder that you would be trapped, penned like an animal for the rest of your prospective future. that had been your initial motivation to become a soldier, to at least advance to a garrison position where you could have a taste of exclusive information regarding what lay beyond the stone and metal bearings. but in the final year of your basic training, everything had changed. there were talks of outlandish things, of traitors from another land that had hidden amongst the native people, talks of islands and foreign soil and something more than the confines of the walls.

upon graduating, you had ultimately chosen the scouting legion, seeing how the garrison was quickly being disbanded and the remaining soldiers that hadn't stepped into their early days of retirement were joining the aforementioned regiment. the benefits only seemed to become greater and greater with the extinction of titans, the whispers of allies and retribution and rebuilding a lost legacy of your people. but somehow, all that novel luster had become muted, completely darkened by the imposing presence of this singular individual seated before you. you had only been debriefed on their name and role in military operations before your assignment, leaving you worryingly unprepared for arguably the most important assignment of your career.

the sound of your name passing from your squad leader's lips grounded you, the formal introduction quickly drawing to a close as he relayed the information to the striking foreigner. "she will be your personal escort for the remainder of your stay. if you have any questions regarding the island, feel free to ask her at any time."

"wonderful." their voice was rich, smooth with confidence and underlined with something unfamiliar—it was the way their lips rounded out the first syllable, or perhaps the way they spoke from the depths of their throat.

you felt your back stiffen as they rose from their seat, somehow rising taller and taller, their stature reaching much higher than anyone you'd ever met. immediately, your right hand clamped into a fist, thudding over your heart as your left arm hooked behind your back, spitting out your full name and designation just as you had while saluting hundreds of times. "i'm incredibly grateful for this opportunity to occupy you. thank you for all that you and the volunteers have done for paradis."

you were shocked that your voice hadn't quivered with the way their eyes dragged down your body, grey and barren of any emotion besides a hint of intrigue, sharp features framed by short, fair hair. they were strikingly handsome, masculine yet feminine at the same time, an indiscernible sort of beauty that perplexed and enthralled you.

"no need to thank me, soldier." whether they were assuring or commanding you, you didn't know, only cognizant of how they nearly purred out your title. swallowing, you lowered your hands, standing at ease and forcing yourself to not look to your superior for encouragement.

"then i shall show you to your lodgings. please follow me."

you forced yourself to turn your back to them and take a step, then another, mentally counting them one by one until you reached the door. you could hear their heavy footfalls following behind you, the distance steadily beginning to close until you forced your own pace to quicken. on the silent walk out of the management building, you had found a speed that worked, one long stride of theirs equaling two of yours, leaving you straining to keep a comfortable yet polite space between the both of you. you risked a glance back, having to crane your head up to catch a glimpse of their face. they had been staring idly at the back of your head, meeting your eyes when you turned to briefly face them, the moment cut short by your own haste to fix your view back onto the path before you.

"how shall i address you?" you attempted to fill the cool void of discomfort that had suddenly settled in the air around you, shoulders tense and brow taut.

"anything works."

their answer offered nothing in return to your inquiry, the faint image of their face flitting across your mind. you hadn't looked at them long enough to commit their features to memory, but you had looked enough to remember their startlingly cold eyes, angular nose and full lips, sharp jaw and heavy brow.

"m-miss yelena?" you attempted, fighting the urge to nervously fidget or give away any sign of your unease.

"if it suits you." was their final reply before the two of you fell silent once again.

the lack of discussion persisted through the remainder of the journey, the only sounds occupying the space being the fall of your boots against the ground and the jingle of your keyring that you drew from your pocket to unlock the front door. you stood aside to hold it open as she walked in, feeling an odd sensation flutter in the pit of your stomach when she had to duck under the frame to enter. the housing itself wasn't extravagant, only a single open room with a desk, bookshelf, dresser, kitchenette, bed, and a small bathroom area to the side to occupy the space, the ceiling seeming much lower than it was due to yelena's formidable height. she looked out at the room, flicking a stray lock of hair out of her eyes, face neutral and inexpressive.

"how quaint," she turned to face you, a prick of unease making your posture pin-straight once again, "is there any reason they've put us volunteers away from the main soldier barracks?"

your mind suddenly went blank at the worst of times, unknowing of the exact answer but knowing you had to over something in response. "s-simply for your comfort. we wouldn't like it to seem as if we don't trust you to stay on your own."

"ah, so considerate of you." for the first time she smiled, a barely-there tilt at the corner of her lips that made your heart stutter, "then i'll be sure to make myself at home."

she stepped slowly over to the bookshelf, dragging her fingers over the backs of the books with an apparent interest. you stayed standing where you were, unsure if you should leave then or wait a bit longer for just the right moment. something about her presence was unnerving, but there was also an undeniable allure that you almost gravitated to, despite her being a stranger.

"do you need anything else?" you piped up, letting your hands link behind your back, fingers twisting together.

"not that i can think of." each word seemed scripted, as if she'd practiced this entire conversation a dozen times before it'd ever happened.

"then i'll be on my way." you shakily smiled in an attempt to seem put together, hoping that she didn't immediately see through the weak front, "i'll be back in a couple of hours to escort you to dinner."

you bowed and took your leave, almost desperate to escape her all-consuming gaze and find refuge outside her line of sight. but even after you'd shut the door behind you and stepped off the porch, well on your way down the path you'd taken, you could still feel how her eyes had examined every fine detail of your stance, analyzing every shift and subtle movement you made with a calculating look. deep down, you already knew that this position would be completely exhausting from the get-go.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

you had fulfilled your typical nightly routine—fetch yelena from her quarters to escort her to the cafeteria, go your separate ways and sit at your usual tables after getting food, finish your dinner with five minutes to spare in the dining hour to go inform yelena that it was time for her to wrap up her meal so you could take her back. she'd followed you down the usual path, now lit with newly placed street lamps that turned on after the sun sunk below the horizon and night fell. there had been nothing out of the ordinary, aside from the way the volunteer table had eyed you with a formerly absent intrigue when you came to speak to yelena.

that comfortable distance you'd kept between the two of you had slowly been narrowing over the last few days, a development which had peaked both your curiosity and your anxiety. while you still kept yourself a few paces ahead of her, you could feel how close her presence had become, an almost physical weight that settled itself over your back and urged you to walk faster and faster to escape its grasp. but you knew that she was all too good at reading your body language, somehow having familiarized herself with even the finest idiosyncrasies that incriminated you in just about a month, an understanding that had only grown deeper as more and more time had passed. although you felt as if you'd gained the upper hand for a few days when you realized that she always let a bit of emotion slip in her large, ashen eyes when you said something just enough out of the ordinary to catch her interest, any progress you thought you'd made was quickly squandered by her own advancements. today was no different, another morning and afternoon filled with dodging the occasional pervasive question from her about the simplest of things.

were you an only child? had you been closer to your mother or father when you were younger? did you join the scouts to explore the world or because you simply found no value in living out your life doing something different? they had started out with an ambiguous end-goal, but slowly evolved into even more unprofessional matters—attempts to provoke a discussion about your love life, what you might look for in a prospective partner, whether you wanted to settle down after you retired or stay unattached for the remainder of your life.

you always dodged, and she always let up for a while, lulling you into a sense of safety that was always broken by that same question again, worded differently but asking for an answer that was the same as the last. the more you ran from her company, the more she seemed to push it upon you, pleased when you would slip up and get flustered when she caught you off guard. so you held your ground this evening, even when your fingers quivered at the realization that she was practically peering over your shoulder, watching you unlock the door to her quarters with just barely enough space separating you to not feel her breath fanning down the back of your neck.

you quickly opened the door and began moving to hold it open for her like you always did, but felt a large hand resting at your shoulder, prompting you to quickly spin on your heel to face her. she was usually finished with her casual interrogating by this hour, which was why you were more than surprised to see that she was staring down at you, having lowered yourself to your level enough for you to not have to tilt your head completely back to meet her eye.

you took an instinctive step back, flinching at the sound of the door falling shut behind you, effectively caging you in between it and the woman before you. pale, dangerously alert irises traversed your expression, drinking in every small feature that had been drawn back into a confused look, stomach already knotting into a twisted tangle of warmth and icy panic.

"are you afraid of me?"

the immediate answer sat on the tip of your tongue, lips parting to deliver the lie you had ready for such an inquiry. but something in her eyes spoke to you, silently, warning you not to give into dishonesty. you couldn't possibly admit to still being fearful of her, not when you were meant to be the powerful one in this relationship. you weren't supposed to say yes, but you also found yourself unable to lie as you always did, not when the path you'd walked with her was still worryingly empty and you felt the hard wood of the door now pressing unforgivingly into your back with each minuscule step back.

"sh-should i be?" you cursed your stammer, betraying your evident lack of control, the only redeeming aspect being the non-committal implication that responding with another question held.

that seemed to throw her off a bit, owlish eyes slowly blinking at you as she thought. even up close like this, you couldn't identify a single flaw in her appearance—pale skin smooth like porcelain, unconcerned by any sort of natural imperfections, hair like fine silk and eyes piercingly bright, yet clouded like a stormy sky. you squeaked at a hand seizing your collar, right hand instinctively flying down to the scabbard strapped around your thigh, clammy palm shakily clenching around the hilt of your blade, the other clamping firmly around her wrist.

she only smirked at the presumed threat, pressing herself even closer to you, enough that you could feel the radiant heat of her lips just barely grazing your own. you suppressed the trembling threatening to shake through your every limb, beginning to feel lightheaded with the effort to contain your quickening breaths, swallowing down your dread, forcing yourself to meet her gaze when she spoke.

"if it suits you. it doesn't affect me either way, does it?"

you just barely shook your head side to side, not realizing you were rising up onto your tiptoes until she pulled you forward that last inch by your shirt, eyes falling shut as her lips melded easily against yours. an inexplicable warmth flourished in your chest, heart tripping up to match the frantic speed of your thoughts, fingers clenching around her slender, clothed wrist. you forced yourself back with a sharp intake of breath, backing yourself far enough into the door that you could feel the wood digging into the small of your back.

"m-miss yelena, you can't—!"

she didn't allow you to finish, tugging you back to your previous position with a low huff, the faint snap of a stitch popping somewhere on your collar going unregarded as you let out a small noise of surprise, wide eyes relenting and squeezing shut. a voice in the back of your mind screamed for you to draw your knife, push her away, force her into her quarters, anything but just standing there and allowing her to exert such a humiliating power over you. but it was so much easier to sink into her grasp, to feel her fingers slowly relax and hold you at a comfortable height rather than force you up, to allow the hot flush of an unknown intimacy to settle deep into your skin.

you'd been kissed before, it wasn't as if she stole your first chance from you, but it had never been like this. you had only brushed the surface of gentle pecks and lingering hands on the other's face until you both giggled and pulled away, never faced with such a certain confidence that almost frightened you more than it allured you, an unspoken order that left you at her mercy rather than on equal footing. and though you'd all but forgotten about your initial rejection, yelena had not, chastising you with a firm bite to your lower lip that drew a less-than-composed whimper from the back of your throat.

"i would advise you to not dictate what i can and cannot do in the future." she stated firmly, tone devoid of any personal inflection, barely pulling away enough for you to meet her stare, hand tightening around your collar once more, "understood?"

"y-yes, miss yelena." you barely whispered, nodding affirmatively. a flicker of amusement momentarily lightened her expression when you drew your tongue over the aching skin of your lips, the taste of faint copper and black tea clinging to your taste buds.

she slowly slackened her grip, not even so much as blinking as she straightened her posture and reached past you to open the door, allowing you a moment to scamper out of her path and pull your shirt back into place with trembling hands. "then, you are dismissed, soldier."

she didn't spare you a second glance before proceeding into her quarters, shutting the door behind her without another word. you stood dumbly for a moment, licking over your bottom lip once more, just then realizing how shallow and quick your breathing was. you steadied yourself enough to lock her door, shaking away the mental fog of such an abrupt change of scenery, pulling your jacket tighter around you to make up for the lack of her warmth pressing into you, confused as to why you had just allowed yourself to be ordered around by the individual that you were meant to be keeping in check. the walk back to your dorm was blurry at best, a few good-nights from your colleagues that prompted a hum of acknowledgement, thankfully nothing that required you to recount your daily fulfilled duties or anything past a few minutes prior.

even after you'd shed your clothes, pointedly ignoring how wrinkled your shirt front had become, cleaned yourself up and crawled into the isolated comfort of your bed, you found yourself unable to sleep. perhaps you could learn from this experience, remind yourself at all times to put even more distance between the two of you. maybe you would have to stop conversing with her so casually, or perhaps your best option would be to cut your losses and request an assignment change, consequences or record mark-ups be damned. but as you tossed and turned on your mattress, burying your face into your pillows and trying to rid your skin of any memory of her touch, a voice at the back of your head ceaselessly murmured, a rambled premonition of more turbulence to come.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

this day marked five weeks since the initial incident, there had been no activity like it since—although you couldn't say whether you thought that was a bad thing or not. not to say that you hadn't been keeping your distance, the first few days were spent cautiously looking over your shoulder, making sure to keep her even further than arm's length but still close enough to guarantee that she couldn't slip away on her own. she behaved respectfully enough, although she herself seemed to be acting as if nothing had even happened, greeting you like normal and allowing you to escort her to meals and strategy meetings when necessary, despite how she'd affirmed that you weren't to give her any orders.

you hadn't reported the infraction to any superiors, knowing that you would get caught up in an unnecessary fuss that might even get you stuck at the bottom of the ranking list once again, an unthinkable outcome that only made you sure that the right decision was to keep your mouth shut. the previous afternoon was the first time yelena had made a special request, describing how unfortunate it was that she was lacking just a few proper amenities that would really make her lodgings "feel just like home". your persistent hesitance had eased after the first week of safety, and you fulfilled your responsibility of maintaining her comfort by arriving early this morning, toting a small bag of a dark ground powder and cups.

you were surprised to see that yelena was already awake upon your arrival, seated at a table that looked far too small for her, reading one of the many books from her provided bookshelf. you exchanged polite greetings, her not rising from her place until you'd lit the fire beneath the stove and set out a plate and cup for her at the counter, stowing away the rest in whatever free space you could find. you stood by while she took care of making whatever it was she wanted herself, noting the fragrant richness that had filled the air upon her steeping the powder in heated water.

"they only serve black tea in the cafeteria," she said, speaking to no one in particular, plucking a ladle from the utensil rack, "it's been ages since i had a cup of coffee in the morning."

the heat of the stove was beginning to warm the room, prompting you to shed your jacket and place it on the back of the chair yelena had not been previously seated at. your shirt beneath it was more forgiving, a thin material that had always hung a bit loosely from your shoulders, great for the hotter days when you were still expected to be in uniform.

"have you ever had a cup of coffee?" her voice interrupted your meandering stream of thought, the sound of liquid being poured into a cup faintly catching your attention.

"no, i don't think i have."

"would you like to try some?"

the offer stoked the spark of bothersome curiosity, the scent filling the air and mingling with the ambient sound of crackling wood and the feel of the hot air making you want to accept. perhaps this was her way of making amends, or just doing something pleasant for the worker that she was made to follow behind like their second shadow.

"if it's not too much trouble, then.."

"of course it isn't."

you felt a light sweat beginning to bead down your back, pulling your handkerchief from your pocket and dabbing at your neck. this space wasn't properly suited for a stove to be used, seeing as the unlatching mechanisms on the window had been removed for the sake of thwarting any sort of curfew breaking by the volunteers, meaning there was little ventilation aside from the small chimney extending out of the kitchenette area. you stole a glance at yelena, now opening the cabinet that you had strained to reach with ease.

the memory of her hand fisting your shirt, the collar that now hugged just the slightest bit looser at the base of your neck, the long healed-over bite that had left the soft flesh of your lips feeling raw for the following few days. the external heat of the still burning stove was only intensified by the flush climbing up to your cheeks, the desire to release a button or two on your shirt and free some of your skin to the open air becoming undeniable. it felt a bit ironic that the one time you'd properly stepped into her quarters for more than a quick minute to help her get something sorted was the one time the tension that always hung in the air between the two of you was replaced by something tangibly suffocating, the sweltering heat that made you kick off your blankets in the dreary silence at night when the recollection of her kiss relentlessly looped in your mind and chased away any thought of sleep.

you hooked a finger on the collar of your shirt, gently tugging it to the side to absentmindedly press the soft cloth over the skin, wiping away any bothersome perspiration that would leave you uncomfortable by the time you were allowed to change out of your uniform and shower it away.

"what's that?" your eyes darted up at her question, catching sight of the two plated teacups in her hands before you met her gaze.

"i beg your pardon?" you asked meekly.

"that. at your shoulder." you glanced down to where your handkerchief had previously been.

"oh, do you mean this?" she nodded when you pointed to the raised line of skin marring your shoulder, a thick scar that you'd stopped fussing over after realizing that it was an inevitable outcome. "it's a scar," you clarified, tucking your personal cloth back in your pocket, "just about everyone in the military has the same one."

she didn't respond, but held your gaze as she proceeded to the table to set the cups down. you'd become more accustomed to these silent requests, and you knew that she was telling you to continue.

"you work with the equipment engineers, right?" she nodded. "then you've seen our harnesses. all those leather straps end up digging into our skin and leaving scars pretty much all over. although, i did practice on the omnidirectional gear a bit more than all the other recruits during basic training to increase my proficiency, so mine may be deeper.."

you tensed as she approached, slow, deliberate steps steadily closing the distance between the two of you until she was right in front of you. she had started stooping down more often around you, only when she was directly addressing you alone, but it was something that you noticed all the same. a part of you wanted to feel offended, that she thought it necessary to lower yourself to your level as if you were beneath her in a way besides physical stature, but you couldn't deny that you enjoyed the exclusive treatment. she never seemed concerned with doing any sort of thing with anyone else—not with her colleagues, not with other soldiers of or below your ranking, not with any of your own superiors, only you. in a way, it made you feel acknowledged.

"could i see?"

"huh?" was your unprofessional response, but she didn't allow you any time to correct it.

"your scars. where else do you have them?"

"oh." you swallowed, forcing yourself to look up into her steely eyes, "well, i have them on the soles of my feet, and around my thighs, mostly around my torso."

a hand on your abdomen made your back go stiff, her touch pressing lightly over your shirt. "here?"

you nodded, small and timid before her, a trickle of sweat beginning to slide down your back. you realized that you had never had to look down at yelena, not until this present moment where she had knelt down on one knee in front of you, holding your gaze for just a moment before she undid a single button from the bottom of your shirt, glancing up at you as if to check for any sign of refusal before she undid another, then another.

there was nothing forceful about her motions today, nimble fingers patiently unfastening each clasp with care until your shirt revealed your midsection. one slender hand pulled aside the cotton fabric, the other reaching out, just barely grazing the skin of your stomach where the long, pale scar from your utility belt stretched horizontally across your body. her fingertips were warm from handling the kitchenware, but the shiver that crawled up your spine was cold, almost electric, a strange sensation squeezing around your heart and lungs, making each breath quicker than the last.

"was it painful?" she asked quietly, a tinge of earnesty lining her words, features entirely relaxed as they always were.

you let out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding, voice barely reaching a whisper. "yes."

she focused her eyes onto the marred skin, following the raised line of flesh to your sides, brow cinching upwards the slightest bit at the sight of another carving down your waist, following the curvature of your ribs.

"what resilience.." she murmured, free hand returning to undo the remaining buttons of your shirt, "determination is such a beautiful trait, don't you think?" her eyes flitted up to meet yours, sharp and observant, fingers gingerly wrapping around your waist, thumb stroking down your lumbar. "for most, i have to hear it in their voice, or through their words—but it has always been different with you." she pulled a button free. "i see it in your eyes, the way you carry yourself, it's written all over your body." another undone button, you could feel the warmth of her breath fanning across your stomach, the graze of her fingertips tracing up your side and halting at the cloth wrappings over your breasts. "are there more under this?"

your knees felt a few flattering words away from buckling, each gentle touch making the fine hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. you nodded, lips parting to take in a much-needed deep breath, realizing that your shirt was now completely open, exposing the entirety of your scarred torso aside from what remained covered by your chest bindings. your fingers curled into your palm, trembling, just then noticing how soft yelena's hands were in comparison to your own, absent of callous and work-roughened skin. you bit at the inside of your cheek, blinking down at her as you watched a thin finger trace the seam of the cloth, finding the tucked end within moments and gently pulling it free.

a few loud knocks at the door were startling enough to make you jump, head snapping to the side to face the front of the house, a muffled call of your last name from the other side making an anxious knot twist painfully tight deep in your gut. you quickly stepped away, leaving yelena kneeling on the floor, struggling to button up your shirt without even bothering to fix your chest cloth. as soon as you'd gotten yourself situated, you opened the door to find your squad leader awaiting you on the other side.

"is everything alright? breakfast started five minutes ago."

you hoped that the disbelief on your face could be taken as the expression of someone who had simply lost track of time. "i apologize, sir! m-miss yelena put in a request for marleyan coffee yesterday, and i was simply waiting for her to finish before i escorted her to the cafeteria."

you forced yourself to stay composed, trying to focus on the impassive face of your squad leader. there was a stark difference between the emotionlessness of yelena and that of everyone else around you, she somehow made her lack of any sort of feeling or warmth a beautiful kind of coldness, unlike the unnatural stoicism of your superiors. you saw his mouth open to reply, but you were both surprised by a sudden presence behind you, a firm hand at your shoulder, his eyes moving from looking down at you to looking up at the woman behind you, a flicker of genuine unease flitted across his hardened features.

"please don't fault her for my lack of punctuality," she said, a false sincerity lightening her usual low tone, "i simply wanted to enjoy a taste of home, is all. is my presence imperative?"

"i was only making sure everyone was accounted for." your squad leader asserted, staring up at her in an obvious attempt to intimidate that you knew would fail, "as long as you're being properly monitored, do as you please."

"understood." her fingers curled around your shoulder, gently urging you back, away from the door, "then i won't dawdle any longer, i'll join you all in the cafeteria momentarily."

yelena shut the door for you as soon as you took a step back, waiting until the steps of your squad leader had descended off of the porch and disappeared down the path before speaking to you. "i do hope i didn't get you in trouble."

you turned on your heel to face her, feeling a slight flutter in your chest at the sight of her already having lowered herself to your height. "oh, no, you don't have to worry about that.. he's always been a bit on the uptight side of things."

the corners of her lips perked up into the faintest smile before she proceeded back to the table, pressing a finger to the side of one of the teacups. "the coffee's gone cold now. my apologies for the distraction."

distraction, the wry thought flitted across your mind. you guessed that word was suitably to describe allowing her to nearly undress you before the sun had even fully risen in the sky. this was becoming a dangerous game, an ever-lengthening round of cat and mouse, and each day that passed made your more and more certain that you were the one who was running despite your inherent position of power over her. there was something absolutely captivating about her, whether it be the air of mystery that no amount of questions could dispel, or the way that she could practically bring you to your knees with just a few careful words—the more thought you put into it, the more instances of appeal that you seemed to find that only made you want to sink deeper and deeper into the depths that was her subtle control over you.

"i just don't want us to arrive late and miss out on anything." you said lamely, empty words to fill the air as you moved across the room to grab your jacket.

"perhaps another time." she replied, removing the dishes from the table to deposit them in the sink, leaving you with that sole promise that insinuated much more than just another cup of coffee.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"miss yelena, i don't know if we're allowed to be in this section of the building—"

"no one has stopped us yet, have they?" yelena didn't turn back to address you, only continuing forward with that long stride that took two quick steps of your own to match.

she was correct in the regard that no one had questioned her presence in the west wing of the management building, and the few that had begun to object stopped immediately upon catching sight of you following obediently behind her. you felt a bit like a prop, being used as almost a badge of clearance by the one and only individual that you were meant to keep from unauthorized locations such as this one. but her flat assertion that she had important business that gave you nothing in the way of information of direction before she'd taken off for the barracks, leaving you only able to chase after her and hope that no one figured out that she wasn't supposed to be there in the event that she truly wasn't meant to be.

you didn't have long to ruminate on your circumstances before you arrived at a door flanked by a single soldier, a young man that you recognized as someone affiliated with the more well-known soldiers from the 104th graduating class. though you didn't recall his name, you nodded politely to him as he opened the door for yelena, trailing closely behind her while still trying to peek around her slender frame. it was one of the smaller meeting rooms, a large window providing a fair amount of natural illumination down onto the round table, the sole occupant being another one of the anti-marleyan volunteers.

"glad to see you could make it." onyankopon smiled broadly up at yelena, his warm gaze flitting to you momentarily before traveling back to his associate, "no trouble, i assume?"

"none at all." she replied as she took a seat at the head of the table, looking as if she belonged there more than any of the superiors you'd seen seated there, "this one made sure no one interrupted our trip."

you flushed at the praise, standing pin straight beside her chair, hands lowering from behind your back to at your sides, trying not to let the enjoyment of her commendation show on your face. he turned his attention to you, inspiring a quick skip of your heart, fingers tapping nervously at your thighs.

"it's great to hear that yelena has been treating you well." he said matter-of-factly, but a cocked eyebrow and tilt of his head seemed to request a verbal confirmation of his statement.

you blinked, your words catching in your throat as your eyes involuntarily glanced to yelena, an instinctive desire to hold your tongue in the face of speaking about her, an odd sort of insecurity concerning your character flaring in your chest. but that split second of silence was all that she needed to take up the task of answering onyankopon, planting an elbow down on the tabletop and resting her chin in her palm.

"i have been treating her well." she affirmed, almost sounding bored, tilting her head to address you as she reached out and took the hand of yours that was closest to her, drawing it close to her face as she examined your expression, "isn't that right?"

you swallowed, mouth dry, nodding at yelena before remembering that you were meant to be answering onyankopon. "oh, y-yes. miss yelena has been very easy to work with."

pale eyes glimmered at your positive answer, mouth twitching upwards into that rare, barely noticeable smile. you felt your heart jump into your throat as she brought her lips to your knuckles, planting a soft, brief kiss over the back of your hand before gently placing it down at your side. she looked at you as if she knew exactly what you were thinking, like she could hear that unspoken worry of whether she should be doing this in front of her colleague, like she was giving the silent reply that she could do as she pleased.

"then, shall we begin?" onyankopon's voice brought you back to the present, shooting you another momentary glance before fixing his eyes on yelena.

"oh, right." she turned back to you, "be a dear and leave us for a moment to chat."

the mix of confusion at her request and surprise at the affectionate title halted your thoughts. "i'm sorry, miss yelena, but i don't think i'm allowed to do that."

your heart sank as you watched a look of annoyance draw across her features, large eyes narrowing, brow knitting together. she didn't speak for a moment, almost like she was waiting for you to take back your refusal and head on your way without any further discussion. when you did neither, she frowned, reaching out her hand once more, her fingers drawing up your palm to wrap around your wrist.

you nearly yelped as she clinched her grasp almost painfully tight, thumb pressing down hard over the bone at the side of your wrist, nails digging in your skin. her voice was low when she spoke, dangerously commanding and castigating, each word carefully enunciated.

"i said go."

only after you'd earnestly nodded did she release you, allowing you to scamper out of the room, blinking away the tears that had begun to well in your eyes from your stinging skin and the way she'd spoken to you. you took your place at the side of the door unoccupied by the soldier you'd seen before entering, fingers shakily tracing over the underside of your wrist.

though you weren't bleeding, the skin felt raw and irritated, your pulse racing fast in your veins. perhaps it wasn't so bad that you'd left them in there on their own, seeing as the older, more experienced guard was also standing by, well aware that there was no one monitoring them in the meeting room. so you obediently stood and waited, straining to make out coherent words from their muffled voices, contemplating why seeing yelena upset with you was so distressing.

why had you allowed her to order you around? why had you even complied with her demands instead of outright refusing like you were supposed to? why were you worried that she would still be angry with you by the time she walked out of that meeting room? you couldn’t understand what concerned you so deeply about what yelena thought of you, but somehow, the overbearing silence of the empty hallway made it even more difficult to wrap your head around your thoughts. you were so wrapped up in your panicked attempt at contemplation that you didn’t even notice the sound of their footsteps approaching from the other side of the door, only torn from your mind when the door opened from beside you. the two marleyans emerged, laughing affably together, exchanging temporary farewells until they could see each other at dinner that evening.

you looked up at her anxiously, wishing she’d spare you a glance for even just a moment instead of keeping her gaze fixed on the only other individuals populating the space. you hid your hands behind your back rather than in your pockets, knowing that it’d look horrendously unprofessional. but before you could worry about anyone catching sight of the reddened marks, the familiar soldier addressed you directly.

“i do look forward to working more closely with you in the future, i don’t believe we’ve met before. ” he said, outstretching a hand for you to shake, “floch forster.”

you quickly tugged the sleeve of your coat over your injured wrist, grasping his hand and giving a firm up and down, only offering your own name and a polite nod in return. you didn’t exactly know what he meant by working together in the future, but you assumed that it was in reference to your shared position of personal guards to marleyan volunteers.

you tensed at the familiar weight of a hand on your shoulder, feeling a firm squeeze that you knew all too well. “then we shall be going now. come.”

you immediately complied, giving a brief goodbye to the two men before proceeding quickly behind yelena, practically at her heels as the two of you walked further and further down the hall, shrouded in another bout of tense silence. you escorted her out of the building without issue, through the barracks and all the way to her lodgings, receiving nothing in the way of assurance or acknowledgment the entire way.

you wanted to speak up for yourself, ask if she was angered with you, anything to fill the quiet void, but you couldn't bring your mouth to push the words free. you hoped that she'd at least offer you her usual goodbye, as inherently lifeless and out of polite necessity as it may be, but it didn't come even as you unlocked the door to her quarters and held it open for her to enter, not even turning back before she sat herself at her desk and got to work on the clutter of papers occupying it.

you left her, feeling strangely heavy with defeat, unable to focus on anything for long before your mind strayed back to her upset expression, or the physical evidence of her displeasure with you. over the next hours, you constantly checked your watch, counting down the minutes to dinner, to when you'd be able to justify being in her presence and hopefully receive some sort of indicator that you were in the clear. you'd always been someone who did what was asked of you, a people pleaser—but there was something different about the inclination you felt towards yelena. it wasn't the kind of obedience that you gave to your superiors, she wasn't anything close to your superior in a technical sense, but somehow it felt natural, a servitude borne out of free will rather than one determined by ranking.

you knew you hadn't done anything wrong by denying her initially, but yet you still hoped for her forgiveness.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

you quivered at the feeling of her lips sucking at the already marked skin of your neck, thighs squeezing tighter around her waist, her nails digging deep enough into them that they nearly threatened to tear the fabric of your pants. you swallowed down yet another moan, one hand working its way deeper into her short hair, the other clenching tightly to the fabric of her barely-buttoned dress shirt. your soft, shuddering breaths filled the space of the open air around you, the fear of knowing your squad leader was just outside the door waiting for a reply, adjacent to the wall that she'd pushed you up against despite your meek warnings that dinner would be starting any minute now, was almost tangible in your stomach.

she pulled away from the reddened flesh with a low hum, nipping at your ear as she demanded, "make him go away."

you barely nodded, eyes screwing shut when she began yet another bruising assault to your shoulder, not even giving you enough time to collect yourself and speak. "i apologize, s-sir. miss yelena wasn't f-feeling well, so i brought her meal h-h-here instead of escorting her to the cafeteria..!"

you nearly whimpered as her teeth sank into the soft junction between your neck and shoulder, silently praying to any higher power that may be listening for your superior to just leave already. "understood. please return the plates to the cafeteria before they close up and make it to the dormitories before curfew."

"y-yes, sir..!"

you could barely count his descending steps down the porch over the sound of your own blood roaring in your ears, only completely assured of his absence when she sighed against your skin, soothing the ache with a few apologetic licks, pressing her lips everywhere they could reach. you often found yourself recalling the first time this had happened, when the two of you were sitting at the table in her quarters and she had been apologizing for the day she'd ordered you out of the meeting room. you could still remember how her touch had trailed from stroking at your wrist, crescent nail prints still occupying your skin, to cupping your face, drawing you close to kiss her again and again—the heat of her proximity, how her hands had felt and caressed every inch of your body, whispering a breathless, endless stream of praises into your ear as you came apart under her.

though you had vowed to yourself that wouldn't allow it to happen again, that that night would be your first and only instance of giving into that weakness she'd slowly but surely carved into you, but you found yourself sinking into her arms when she beckoned you, sewing the buttons of your shirt back into place without complaint after the nights where she had become impatient and accidentally popped them free, staring at your naked body in the mirror after your long showers and tracing your fingers over the bruises she'd sucked and bitten into your tender skin.

she only marked you in places where you could hide them beneath your clothes, places which assured that she would be the sole individual to see them when she stripped you bare, only to add more and more. there was no set time between those late evenings, sometimes the interval would be less than a few days, and other times it would stretch out for weeks with no indication as to when the next occasion would come. but when it did, any semblance of self-restraint had completely diminished.

"you're such a good pet for me.." she cooed, her words sending a warm spark through every inch of you.

she'd become fond of calling you that, and a part of you wondered if that was all she saw you as, as only a pet or a possession. you'd accepted that she had the upper hand in this relationship, whatever it may be, but you couldn't help enjoying the feeling of being desired so deeply, being touched and admired in ways you'd never even imagined before you met her. your arms clasped tighter around her neck as she pulled you away from the wall, laying you out on her bed, taking a moment to strip out of her shirt before lowering herself on top of you.

her hands busied themselves ridding you of your chest wrappings, lips attentively traversing each inch of newly revealed skin, murmuring curses and sweet nothings that only made you squirm more beneath her, impatient and eager. you mewled when she'd finally settled her hands over her bare breast, large palms pressing into soft flesh, slender fingers pinching at your nipples. she turned her head up to kiss you, tongue outlining the seam of your lips before sliding into your mouth, claiming it as her own.

you were left panting when she pulled away despite its briefness, hazy, low-lidded eyes finding her own, intoxicated by that carnal look, dark pupils nearly overtaking the piercing grey of her irises. she only smirked at your lack of composure, dipping her head back down to suck and bite at the valley of your breasts, your fingers reflexively tightening in her hair. your hips bucked up into nothing, desperate for any sort of friction, much to yelena's amusement.

"aren't you just the neediest little thing?" she paused to lave her tongue over a pert bud, drawing another heated sigh from you as you nodded, hoping that your agreement could persuade her to not spend so much time teasing you.

she granted you the slightest relief, taking your nipple between your lips and sucking at it, the hand not occupied with another breast trailing down the scar etched into your side, following the path down to your navel to begin unbuttoning your pants. each second seemed to drag on longer than the last, and though you knew that she wasn't purposely drawing out the process of undressing you, it was still not enough. you were practically kicking your underwear to the floor by the time they made their way around your ankles, skin still burning hot despite being fully exposed to the air.

"p-please, miss yelena.." you whimpered at the feeling of her hand tracing up and down your inner thigh, occasionally stopping to stroke across the raised lines of skin that had been inscribed into your skin by the series of belts and buckles on your gear harness, but never proceeding that final inch up to where you needed it.

she pulled away to let out a low chuckle, peering up at you through dark lashes, bare chest pressed flush against your stomach. she drank in the way your face shifted as she rested the pad of her thumb over your clit, rubbing languid circles over it as her pointer finger dipped down your cunt, instantly slick with your arousal.

"you're so worked up from just that?" she taunted, speaking at barely a murmur, "or was it because somebody was listening?"

you felt the knot of anticipation drawing tight in the pit of your stomach, watching as she took her fingers in her mouth and licked over them, thighs shuddering when she returned to their previous position. "i-it was— i j-just— please.."

you could barely form a coherent thought, back arching up to urge your body as close to hers as you could manage, only cognizant of just how close you were to being relieved of that unbearable pressure welling within you. she only smiled, close-lipped and cunning, resting her head over your heaving chest.

"your heart is racing. i wonder how much faster i could make it go.."

you nearly whined as two fingers slid into you with little resistance, her mouth closing over a nipple, alternating between gently tugging at it with her teeth and flicking over it with the tip of her tongue. your hips rocked up into her hand, matching the pace of her wrist as your head dug back into the mattress, moans and incoherent pleas spilling from your parted lips.

you could feel yourself quickly approaching that rapturous peak, hands fisting the sheets under you, white stars blotting out your vision as she curled her fingers just right. you shuddered, gasping, eyes rolling aimlessly into the back of your head as the tension that had wound itself into every muscle finally released, coming completely undone beneath her. you pressed a shaking hand over your mouth, muffling the sound of your winded breaths, letting out a small noise when she relieved you of her fingers. you felt her lips grazing over your chest, forcing your head up to look at her with bleary eyes when their feather-light touch proceeded lower and lower down your stomach.

you had expected things to come to an end as they usually did, with her pulling her clothes back on before you even had the chance to see straight and gathering your own garments from the floor to hand to you, leaving you to walk back to your dormitories on trembling legs in your wrinkled uniform. but there was no sign of that immediate withdrawal as she gathered your thighs in her hands, lifting your legs up onto her shoulders as she pressed a brief kiss over your naval.

you licked your lips nervously, already more than too sensitive at just the feeling of her breath over your soaked cunt. you opened your mouth to meekly object or ask for just a moment longer to catch your breath, but she shushed you, her heavy-lidded gaze sending a fresh bout of heat across your skin. each little quiver of your thighs only made her grip fasten, unable to keep still as she kissed at the scars and soft flesh, drawing a stifled whimper when she stopped to suck a deep mark at a spot of untarnished skin.

you could see the pale expanse of yelena's back, pristine and absent of any previous traumas, the complete opposite of your own. the first time you'd see her undressed, you couldn't take your eyes off of her slender frame, lined with muscle from her days as a soldier but still so delicate. you'd never left any marks when she'd allow you to kiss at her neck and chest, only enough to see the rosy flush settle over her body, but by that time she was more than eager to get back to playing with you instead.

you took in a deep, unsteady breath, jaw clenching and stomach tightening as her tongue drew flat up the length of your cunt, a small moan breaking from your parted lips. she pressed forward, flicking the tip of her tongue over your clit in a merciless rhythm, holding your thighs apart to accommodate her presence each time they attempted to squeeze shut. you writhed over the sheets, her name slipping from you between high-pitched whines and labored breaths, minutes melting past in an incomprehensible blur, leaving you only cognizant of her tongue and hands dragging you back over that edge again and again.

by the time she'd released you, you could barely hold your eyes open, thighs aching from her fingers digging into them, throat raw from crying out for her and gasping in what never seemed to be enough air, feeling too exhausted to even think about making the walk back to your own room. but rather than hand your clothes to you in a silent cue for your departure, you watched her make her way back up the mattress to lay beside you, pulling your heavy, sweat-slicked body against her own. you couldn't try to refuse the comfort of her warmth, face pressing into her chest, breathing in her soft, clean scent, still occasionally trembling as you tentatively allowed your hands to cling to her.

you told yourself not to get comfortable, to try to regain control of your limbs by the time her sympathy for overworking you had worn off and she ordered you away for the night, but the demand never came. you felt a large hand settle at the base of your neck, another splaying across the small of your back, her chin resting on the crown of your head, holding you close like a lover would.

"you could stay for the night if you'd like." her tone was even and collected as it always was, but hushed, like she was murmuring a secret to you.

you knew that sleeping her had already far overstepped whatever boundary had been abandoned that night she'd first kissed you, the morning where she'd marveled at your body and commended your courage, every instance you'd obeyed her rather than carry out the simple orders you were given. it was already too late to tear yourself away from this presence that you'd grown so familiar with—the one that you had feared, the one that you now craved despite how you knew you shouldn't.

"thank you, miss yelena." you whispered hoarsely, curling into her, allowing your heavy eyes to close.

that would be the first and last time you ever spent the night in her quarters.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

the banquet to celebrate the completion of the rail system in trost was minutes away from commencing. the speaking podium was empty for the moment, soldiers and civilians chattering amongst themselves as they waited for the military officials to gather at the stage. you were authorized to be in the private area as yelena's personal escort, seeing as she had participated in the mapping of the railroad through the district and would be acknowledged as a contributor to the advancement of paradis.

but as excited as you were to celebrate, eat good food and hopefully get a chance to drink, you weren't looking forward to transferring your position to floch forster for the remainder of the night. although, your desire to stay by yelena's side had been momentarily dissuaded by the desire to please her when she'd requested the change a few days prior. you hadn't bothered to hide your disappointment, nor did you hold back your questions.

"change to forster? but.. why?" you had asked, in the privacy of her quarters, feeling an immediate disheartening at her words.

she didn't directly respond, the hand that had been at your shoulder rising to pet at your cheek. "you trust me, don't you?"

"y-yes, but—"

"then file a request to change with him."

you couldn't explain why you had felt such a cool emptiness burrowing into your chest, a sudden spite for the other soldier beginning to fester in the back of your mind, the thought that she would choose him over you inspiring an indescribable irateness. you turned away from her hand, not thinking of how you were pouting like a child, unwilling to meet her eyes or compromise with her. you'd been fretting over how she hadn't spared you any sort of affection in the nearly two months that had passed, the fear that she'd grown tired of you an incessant whisper in your ear. but then she had reached for you, treated you gently, persuading with that hint of sincerity she rarely ever showed you.

"it would only be for the evening, i have business to attend to that night. i'm sure you've been looking forward to the celebration?" a frown tugged at your lips, only offering a small nod in reply, meeting her eyes when she guided you by your chin to face her. "then transfer with forster, have fun for the evening—you deserve it."

you couldn't help but preen under her praise, meeting her eyes, heart stuttering at the sight of her barely-there smile. you finally caved after a moment of thought, relenting to her wishes. "i'll put in a temporary transfer request tomorrow afternoon."

"thank you, dear."

despite how you weren't exactly looking forward to forster's arrival to relieve you from duty, those final words lifted your spirits just the slightest bit. perhaps she had simply been caught up in the stress of such a grand achievement, too busy attending meetings with engineers and generals and event staff to make any spare time for you for the past weeks. you had waited for weeks before, you could continue waiting if need be. you were at her beck and call, and as long as it pleased her, you were perfectly fine doing as such.

you let out a soft sigh at the sigh of floch forster approaching, weaving through the scattered crowd with a stoic, dutiful look plastered across his expression.

"good evening, floch." yelena said from beside you.

he replied with a polite good evening to both you and her, adding your name as more of an afterthought than anything, but turning his focus back to you when you still hadn't stepped away. "you can go, i'll take it from here."

your gaze flickered over to yelena, feeling yourself relax as she nodded to you, a hand resting at your shoulder to gently urge you forward. "i'll see you tomorrow morning. enjoy yourself tonight."

so you took your leave, watching the ceremony in the company of your fellow soldiers, eyes always wandering away from the speaker and to yelena at the side of the stage. the speech concluded, the crowd cheered and applauded, and everyone was directed to the banquet hall where the remainder of the event would be held. you watched yelena and floch walk off the stage with the other officials, becoming distracted for just a moment speaking to someone but having lost sight of them by the time you looked back.

you didn't see yelena for the remainder of the night, but you did as you were told, enjoying the good food, talking to your friends, avoiding any alcohol in preparation for your usual early morning. it was all over quite quickly, and the next morning came and went, business as usual for the remainder of the next few days—then came the news of eren jaeger's disappearance, then the plans of the all-hands-on-deck operation that was to be the retrieval effort for the young man, the entire scouting branch thrown into overdrive.

and, though you never mustered the courage to ask, you felt a sinking feeling deep inside, that yelena's nightly errand with floch and eren's absence were somehow connected, that there was much more going behind the scenes that you couldn't even begin to fathom.

just wanted to give u guys a little gift for my birthday (´･ᴗ･ ` )

#yelena #snk yelena #yelena x reader #yelena x reader smut #aot x reader #snk x reader #snk x y/n #snk x you #aot x you #aot x reader smut #snk x reader smut #yelena brainrot #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #shingeki no kyojin fanfiction

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pyro-chaos · 3 years

Text

The Dim Lighting

Daryl Dixon x F!Reader

*PICTURE NOT MINE*

Summary: With the additional population attributed to the prison after Woodbury's fall, your group was facing a rapid decrease in available supplies. You and Daryl had embarked on a quick supply run when Daryl shared something with you he hadn’t shared with others before.

Words: 11,185

WARNINGS: Lot’s of sexual innuendos. Mild smut, but no hot beef injection. Cannon violence. Otherwise, pretty much all fluff. Talk of scars.

Is this too much instant mashed potatoes for dinner? What if someone else needs the calories more? What if you eat like tomorrow's gonna be a big day, and you only do some minor ten-minute chores? Then you'll feel bad for taking someone else's portion of mashed potatoes.

You take a large scoop of the instant mashed potatoes from your plate and plop it back into the communally shared pot. Supplies were running short as it is. You didn't need more than a scoopful. Hopefully, there'd be leftovers tomorrow, and that'd be your 'filling' breakfast.

Due to the increased population at the prison, there wasn't a single supply that the prison wasn't running low on. It was common for someone to acquire a cut that needed a few stitches or break a bone after running through the woods and falling face-first into rocks, branches, and dirt. Medical supplies had begun to dwindle.

With the extra mouths to feed, food was being consumed faster than it was being produced. Weapons were used to keep protected when any quest included combat with walkers. With the increase in inhabitants, the demand for protection increased as well. Rick's been running around like a chicken with his head cut off. As the leader, most responsibilities fell on him.

Supply runs were never out of the question.

On the subject of diminishing resources, Rick suggested a casual supply run to a nearby mall. The name-brand department stores' clothing could be fashioned into makeshift splints, bandages, and reusable diapers for Rick's kid. If there was some kind of sporting goods store, there'd be a possibility for salvageable weapons. The kitchens in the food quart could be hiding unforeseen treasures, and the mall could be quickly cleared of walkers by a small party.

Daryl and yourself had been allowed to exit the safety of the prison on the notion you'd be back no later than the following day. Departing straight after waking would ensure you had a fair amount of time to gather supplies. You'd spend the night in the walker-infested territory and be back sometime the next day.

Daryl hadn't put his bike to use. Managing the cargo, milage, and whereabouts of two different vehicles would take an increased effort. Not to mention the fuel it would require. Plus, what if you found more supplies than the bike could carry? It wasn't worth it. Was that how Daryl thought of things? Or were you just vastly oversimplifying the nature of Daryl's actions? Either way, he wasn't putting the bike to use. Instead, he'd be the driver in a blue pick-up truck you'd been provided with to utilize for the run.

If Daryl had decided to take the motorcycle for a spin, you wouldn't complain. His biceps glowed when he gripped the handles. His muscles flexed as he'd put pressure on the acceleration or the breaks on the front handles of the mini-vehicle. Most of the time, the Georgia heat caused a light sheen of sweat to cover his skin. The sight prompted your throat to constrict and your mouth to water. A welcomed heat spreading throughout your body and radiating your most... concealed corners. The angel-winged vest tightened around his back as he directed the vehicle to go in whatever direction his biceps commanded. Driving the truck without him wouldn't be an issue. As long as you could enjoy the view.

Of course, you enjoyed being with Daryl as much as admiring him from a distance. The comfortable silence you allowed yourself to be engulfed in was just as rewarding as the gorgeous view of his well-developed arms.

Which brought you to where you were now. Staring at the various overgrown trees whiz by through the window.

Daryl had been keeping a steady hold on the steering wheel for the last couple of hours. He wore a sleeveless flannel and his black leather angel-winged vest. Due to the blistering heat the daytime provided, he'd ditched sleeves.

The sweat that came with the scorching weather was sticky, uncomfortable. Most of the time, it came with an unwelcome odor. Still, if the reward for powering through would be Daryl's glistening biceps, then you'd manage without Making any fuss.

Daryl's arms rippled as the man adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. Your fingers tingled and numbed simultaneously. A white-hot desire to - to feel him coursed through your palms to the tip of your fingers. The breath knocked clean out of your lungs. Your gaze slowly and tantalizingly traveled along the expanse of his tan skin. Taking in every blemish, every scar, and every mundane detail that made the skin his own. The man's hands gripped the wheel tightly, his grip shifted from time to time. Likely to keep the sweat from gathering on his palms. How hot was it outside? The air in the vehicle was undoubtedly cooler than the molten lava running through your veins.

Daryl's hands. Oh God, his fucking hands. They could hold onto something with a gentle tenderness you were surprised their build could offer. Then, they could ball into fists at a moment's notice and be used as a dangerous weapon against someone with the balls to challenge the man.

In more sensual scenarios, they'd been able to mind-numbingly twist, thrust, and flutter. Wherever Daryl's hands moved, heat followed. His fingers teased, gently dragging along your skin without pressing enough to properly satisfy. It left your skin tingling and overheating in anticipation. Your body writhing in the position he'd left you in. How could his hands be so attractive and so deadly at the same time?

You had explored the expanse of Daryl's skin that had been hidden away from others the same way he had with yours. More than once. There was no shame in admiring the gorgeousness of his features as long as spectators didn't tease. Embarrassment would make it hard to appropriately interact with others. Would Daryl be made uncomfortable? That was the last thing you wanted. However, if Daryl caught you staring, you'd be significantly less flustered.

The man's features had you sweating in nervousness, anticipation, and - something hotter. As long as you weren't making him uncomfortable, then you wouldn't be shy about voicing your attraction to the man you were attracted to.

"Keep starin'," Daryl moved his attention away from the asphalt, "I oughta do a trick."

Heat flooded into your cheeks from your neck to your ears. Without delay, you aimed your retinas to the clear windshield in front of you. How long since the paint had been repainted on the roads? How were the streets so mesmerizing after all this time? Oh, look a tree.

How the hell do you respond to that?

"Promise?" You quipped.

Your snark rewarded you with a side-eyed glare from the man before he returned his attention to keeping the car on the empty road. The man's lack of a witty remark caused your ego to inflate like a balloon. That's how you respond.

When the man's gaze was no longer on you, you turned your head to take in facial features. His forehead was covered by his chocolate-grown-out hair. He'd acquired a soft tan from being out in the sun every day. There weren't many clean, usable razors anymore. His facial hair had grown scruffy. His gaze had been fixed on the open road ahead of you.

Your gut filled with an odd... tingle, or was it a pull? Your heart swelled, pounded, and twisted all at once. The random wave of fondness almost made you order him to pull over to show him how much affection he really deserved.

"I...I like the way you look."

You turned your attention to the broken world outside the windshield. How awkward would it be if you continued to outwardly gawk at the man? You didn't want to find out. The random compliment you'd given enhanced the burning in your cheeks.

You may not be shy about voicing your obvious attraction towards the man, but that didn't mean you were immune to the awkwardness of being caught while staring.

Plus, you already needed a cold shower. You shouldn't fuel that fire right now.

You didn't see Daryl fiddle with his mouth as he snuck a glance towards you. You didn't get the opportunity to read the surprise behind his otherwise stoic expression. You'd caught the man off-guard with your compliment.

How - How should he react? Should he give you one back? That didn't... feel right. It would come out awkward and strained. What if what he said made you think he was a pervert? What was this strange twist in his nerves and heat in his bones?

If the swelling in his chest and the heat crawling up his neck were anything to go by, he didn't mind being on the receiving end of your affection.

What you did register was the moment Daryl took before scoffing and nudging your thigh with his large hand. You'd savored the light tingle Daryl's playful push had left on your thigh. The static spread a soft layer of goosebumps throughout your skin. Being alone with Daryl caused your body, mind, and hell, your soul to swell with affection.

As the blue truck pulled into the deserted parking lot, your fingers began to fidget with themselves. Your chin lowered, and your hand blindly reached for your hunting knife. If you pivoted and swerved correctly, the walkers in the parking lot could be evaded. How many walkers in the building? Would the building be vast enough for Daryl and yourself to move around comfortably? What if there were more walkers than expected?

Would the walkers in the mall herd up? God, you better hope they don't. A few could be taken out, a freaking herd? The undead in the parking lot didn't exceed more than ten. Not enough for the walkers to begin displaying herding behavior. The repercussions from the boom the firing of a gun usually came with wouldn't be worth the temporary gain. The waste of time it would be to erect and execute a plan in taking out the walkers wasn't worth the risk. As long as you didn't mess anything up while inside the mall, they wouldn't be a problem as you took your leave.

Daryl's blue pupils flipped in your direction before moving back to the outside world in front of them as he grabbed his pistol from the center console and cracked open the driver's-side door. You'd followed in suit. Opening the passenger's-side door and shutting it as quietly as possible. You took extra care in keeping your knees bent as you lightly duck walked towards the backseat of the car.

You pulled the handle, opening the backseat door and leaning into the vehicle. Handling Daryl's and your overnight packs. First, throwing Daryl's over your shoulders and then putting yours on over it. They'd been equipped with water canteens, a few meal bars each, and some extra ammunition—enough supplies for no more than a day. You'd also packed extra duffle bags. This was a supply run. If you'd hit the jackpot, different bags for the additional supplies would be helpful.

Holy fuck, since when was a couple of backpacks this heavy? The packs had two metal water bottles each. That couldn't be why holding your balance with additional weight on your shoulders caused you to lean forward. It couldn't be that, right? You'd thrown an extra carton of ammo in your pack on the way out of the prison. In all, that wasn't much.

When you'd equipped yourself with the packs, you shut the door slowly, taking care in being sure the door of the vehicle flushed with the rest. Daryl stepped in front of you. His crossbow was drawn as he surveyed the parking lot. You had stayed behind Daryl as he hastily led you to the row of entrances of the mall. You had your hunting knife drawn. You were prepared to stab skulls should the walkers get past Daryl's crossbow.

When you'd arrived at the blood-smudged glass doors, Daryl removed a hand from his crossbow and placed it on the pull-facing handle. He swiftly hauled open the door and turned towards the parking lot. He backed up against the glass, the hinges creaked, fueling the faint ring in your ears.

You quickly shuffled inside the building. Your heels off of the ground as much as possible as you promptly sidestepped past Daryl into the building. You were careful to stay out of the line of fire that Daryl's crossbow had been stationed towards. You figured getting shot with an arrow wouldn't help the supply situation back home.

You carefully, slowly, and quietly treaded further inside the abandoned mall. Keeping on your toes as much as possible. Preventing your heels from touching the filth-covered ground without losing your balance. You'd picked up on the habit of keeping your heels slightly raised from the floor to keep as quiet as possible on uncarpeted surfaces.

Your knife hadn't returned to its sheath. Instead of the blade pointing towards the sky as you held it, the sharp-end faced the floor. Your arms were raised to your breast. Your knife close enough to your chest to protect yourself, but far enough that fighting wouldn't be a problem. Your other arm positioned itself in front of your torso in a similar way to the knuckle wielding your weapon. You'd use your unarmed arm for protection and leverage rather than offense.

The mall had been abandoned for a while. The paint was caked in grime, blood, and other unidentifiable substances. The pair of escalators leading to and from the second story were covered in dirt. The usually clear glass rails that protected the steps were no longer evident. The ceiling was caving in. If you had to guess, you'd say the tiles and paneling had begun to fall onto the ground long before this place was discovered by your people. The stores were vacant, and the lack of illumination caused the unseen corners to appear as if a void had swallowed them whole.

What further unsettled you were the walkers within the building. From what you could see, there were four on the second story. They were clawing in your direction. Leaning and stumbling towards the newfound noises. Thank the fucking fences that some were too stupid to understand that the broken-down escalator would grant them passage to you. There were likely to be more, but you couldn't worry about that now. They weren't in your immediate vicinity, and there was the matter of more walkers moving towards you from the outside.

Daryl was doing his best to barricade the entrance to the mall. After all, this would be your place of residency for the night. Securing the openings as much as possible was a sensible choice. Even if the doors needed to be pulled from the outside, it was better safe than dead. What was a viable way to barricade the doors that wouldn't be permanent?

Malls usually contained movable seating. Places where people could sit while their company continued shopping. You'd often reclined on said seating areas when you shopped in malls before the apocalypse. You'd need to wait for your company in the hall because you'd get bored inside whatever department you'd been in before. The movable seating could be used for extra support for the doors.

When your gaze landed on the two eroded benches and mildly torn recliners across from the escalator, you quickly made your way to them from across the vacant hallway. A bench could be easily be moved. You'd need a recliner. A recliner may not have been the best long-term door-stopper, but it would suffice for the time you and Daryl needed.

As you closed the distance between yourself and the empty, unused recliners near the escalator, the sounds of the dead became louder. You didn't need to look up to understand the threat they posed when you'd travel up the stairs and search the top floor for possible supplies.

You tucked your knife in the waistband of your pants and braced your hands on the back of the recliner, and began to push it towards Daryl. You bent slightly over. Your arms directly in front of you as you dug your feet further into the floor and continued moving. The two backpacks dug into your shoulders, causing a slight strain in your muscles. As the chair gained momentum, you allowed yourself to speed up to a light power walk. You'd gotten to Daryl in no time.

When you arrived at his side, the man aided you in shoving the recliner against the glass door. The rest of the main entryways had been locked. Plus, if the walkers happened to have the strength to break the door open, the chair would make a skidding noise as they pushed it out of the way. Alerting Daryl or yourself about the oncoming threat.

You'd backed away from the door. The walkers who'd been aware of your presence in the parking lot had begun stumbling towards you, only to be caught on the transparent barrier. How many of them had piled up against the doors? One, two, three, four - whatever. They wouldn't stay forever. They wouldn't become strong enough to break the glass. Once they lost sight of you or something louder caught their attention, they'd be out of your hair.

Once Daryl was satisfied with the security of the front entrance, he backed towards you. He came to stand by your side as you untucked your knife from the waistband of your pants. The man scanned the main entrance before pulling his crossbow from his shoulder and pointing it towards the floor.

You turned on your heel and ventured further into the abandoned mall. Your gaze sweeping over the interior, "There's a couple of walkers on the second story. There's gonna be more - I can clear the top floor."

Daryl grunted halfheartedly, drawing his crossbow and aiming towards the groaning walker leaning on the railway. The arrow flew across the room quicker than your gaze could follow. When it hit the walker, its target immediately went limp. It tipped over the railing and fell to the floor with a disturbing splat without the extra back support. You could smell the rotting fluids that had been spattered all over the grimy marble floors.

He lowered his crossbow to the floor, pulling back the string that flung the arrows that were responsible for taking down what he'd aimed for.

"I got this floor, I'll check on the doors" He pulled an arrow from the quiver attached to the crossbow, "Make sure there ain't any secret entrances we gotta worry 'bout."

"Meet back here?"

Daryl's reply wasn't verbal. Instead, he grunted in confirmation and moved past you, his crossbow drawn. He was ready for any walker prepared to surprise him with a toothy smile when he turned the corner into the empty expanse of the mall.

"Hey, don't die" He removed a hand from his crossbow and waved you off, "Scream if something happens!"

Daryl moved farther from you.

"Don' hold your breath!" Daryl sassed from around the corner.

You smiled and made your way towards the offline escalator. Your knife was positioned to stab, slash, offend and or defend. You were ready.

-----

"Rotten, rotten, unusable, rotten," You listed off as you searched the walk-in refrigerator of the Dairy Queen in the rickety food quart. It smelled worse than your clothes, and your clothes were covered in rotting guts and blood.

The fridge was warm. There was no melted, rotting, putrid ice cream. Likely eaten before shit really hit the fan. If milk had been in the refrigerator, it had gone rancid long ago. The meat had browned and had appeared to be growing maggots for longer than Judith had been alive for. The fruit, lettuce, vegetables, and other perishables had grown rot, browned, and proceeded in their designated decomposition stages.

"The hell'd ya expect?"

Daryl had been bagging the kitchen knives that had been left behind. He'd taken his backpack from you after he'd finished searching for possible breaches in the entrances on the bottom floor. You didn't protest. Keeping your arms raised and flexed while holding the two packs had begun to cause your shoulders to lightly ache. The strain caused your aim to waver and your eyes to roll.

"Maybe some pickles," You answered haphazardly, shutting the door to the walk-in refrigerator.

You let out a long exhale and hooked your hands behind your head. Your fingers interlocked as you walked to where Daryl was stuffing the last handful of napkin-covered blades into the backpack.

"We should walk around, figure out what stores are here and what they might have"

"There ain't much."

You yawned, "Then we'll get creative,"

You untangled your fingers from behind your head and allowed them to fall to your sides. The overdrawn yawn allowed your muscles to pulse with temporary relief.

Daryl's gaze moved from his backpack to you. His brows were relaxed, and there was no trace of a frown on his lips. He didn't glare at you after your snide remark. He gave you a slight nod as he zipped up his backpack before slinging the bag over his shoulder. Then picked up his crossbow from where he'd set it leaning against the counter. Pushing off the counter to exit the Dairy Queen.

"I can get the bag. You have your crossbow."

He'd carried his primary weapon, now he was hauling around the bag as well. You only lugged your less-heavy backpack. The distribution of work It wasn't fair. You were able-bodied. You could help.

"Nah"

The man's path led him further away from the food quart. You'd spent valuable time rummaging through garbage in the kitchens hoping to find food or water. Daryl had found an abundance of kitchen knives, a fire blanket, and you'd found napkins. Napkins were flammable, and blankets would be in high demand when winter came. The kitchen knives would be suitable for training weapons or food preparation, much to your dismay, no food. Daryl carried the kitchen knives wrapped in the napkins. You had stuffed the fire blanket into your backpack.

"I'm good. I can carry something."

"There's a mattress shop aroun' this corner" He pointed to his left. Using the hand that wasn't currently holding the strap to his crossbow, "we could stay there for the night. Been a while since we slept on a real bed."

"We could tear a couple of them apart. Beds can have memory foam that could be good for something like bandaging or a... bleeder stopper."

"Bleeder stopper?" Daryl turned his head to you with his eyebrows slightly raised.

"Yeah, like thick gauze or a sponge."

Daryl stared at you for a long couple of seconds before shaking his head and turning his attention back to the path before him. You pursed your lips and continued to follow him on his way to the mattress store.

Wait, if you were planning on using materials in the store wouldn't it be better to change? Medical supplies were supposed to be sterile after all. If your clothes smeared blood all over the fabrics, the cleanliness of it would be compromised. Unclean cloth shouldn't be used for bandages or bleeder stoppers.

"We should clean up,"

"Clean up?" Daryl repeated. His tone was inquisitive and questioning.

"We're all bloody," you gestured to your shirt and the blood on his neck, "We shouldn't get the beds bloody."

"We're fine,"

"Ok. Well, I'm gonna change. This smells. I'll meet you at the mattress store."

"You don' know where it's at,"

"I'll find it," You reassured him as you began to speed walk towards a nearby Bath and Body Works. They carried shampoo. What would be the harm in checking it out?

Daryl resisted the urge to roll his eyes. You were living in an apocalypse. He didn't think hygiene should be very high on his list of priorities. So it wasn't. However, hygiene may be essential to you. You weren't content with sleeping in a bed with bloody clothes. Daryl couldn't blame you. He just didn't care about the grime as much as you did. When's a little dirt ever killed anybody?

You weren't worried about the possible threats that could still be lurking in the dark corners of the mall. You could protect yourself, and Daryl had already taken care of sealing all possible walker entrances. You would be safe without him.

The man wasn't convinced. He'd feel better if he was with you, keeping an eye on you. It didn't sit right with him that you'd be on the other side of the building. Hearing your screams would be more difficult than if he was right next to you. If something happened, he wouldn't be aware in time to help keep you alive. He'd follow you instead of allowing you to change without him. Keeping track of your safety would be easier that way.

You heard a loud scoff before heavy footsteps began to make their way towards you.

-----

"You should change too," You spoke from behind Daryl, pulling the new utility pants over your waist.

After you stuffed your backpack with shampoos, conditioners, lotions, and candles with various scents, you'd ventured into a sporting goods store. The former ship didn't disappoint. You'd found utility pants with a quick-drying military green material and more than four pockets, along with various other clothing items.

There'd be others at the prison that would enjoy a new pair of pants. Plus, the fabrics could be used for water filtration and reusable bandages.

You hadn't changed your bloody, wet, disgusting shirt yet. You'd change, pull out one of your additional backpacks and pack a few shirts along with the extra pants.

Daryl had been ruffling through the fishing gear about two yards away from you. The mall had been ransacked before you'd arrived. The gun rack was cleared out, fire equipment was nowhere to be seen, and any medical equipment had been rubut there were fishing hooks and some lines. Maybe there'd be bait. The prison was likely to be home to someone who could make do with the scarce fishing supplies.

You'd continue the search for supplies. You wouldn't leave any stone unturned.

"M' alright," Daryl said, stuffing a box of fishing hooks into his backpack.

"K, I'll just wash you up before bed."

You turned over to him and studied the expanse of his hair to his waist. How much grime would need to be scrubbed off before bed? He better not believe that dirty shirt was gonna keep with his skin as he slept.

"Might make you sleep without your pants."

"Yer jus' tryna get me naked," Daryl feigned seriousness, yanking a nearby t-shirt from its hanger and throwing it at you.

You caught it with two hands. It was your size. Did Daryl look through the shirts to find one for you, or had he just picked one up randomly? Did he pay attention to your sizes? Your heart jumped at the man's attentiveness. He did care.

You embarked on the quest of finding the sleeves. Once you found what you were looking for, you gripped the fabric using the shoulder sleeves and displayed the shirt in front of you. You scanned the clothing from the neckline to the hem. Assessing whether it was clean enough to change into.

When you were satisfied with the clothing item's quality, you threw the shirt onto a nearby clothing rack. You then slipped your shoulders from the backpack you'd been carrying all over the mall. The instant relief you felt from the newfound freedom of your shoulders almost made you let out a sigh of contentment. You lightly rolled your shoulders. Enough to butter the joints, but not enough to alert Daryl of your discomfort. The bag's heaviness had only increased with the candles and shampoos. You set the backpack on the floor, careful to avoid any bloody tiles.

You rolled the front of the shirt you'd been wearing into a scroll. Similar to a paper you'd roll up to smack someone over the head with. You then lifted the rolled hemline over your shoulders and pulled your arms from the sleeves. You'd scrolled-up the front of the shirt to avoid smearing walker guts all over your hair and face. It appeared to do the trick. You'd been able to undress without bathing in blood.

When you were officially shirtless, you flipped the shirt inside out and crinkled it up into a ball. Without properly aiming, you threw the shirt at an unsuspecting Daryl. Your aim wasn't exactly on point. The revolting fabric had ricochetted off his elbow before falling to the floor.

When he looked back at you with a glare lacking any actual malice or threat, you stuck your tongue out at him. He rolled his eyes and shook his head before returning his attention to the task he'd previously engrossed in.

You grabbed the shirt from the clothing rack you'd set it upon and began the process of clothing yourself.

Throughout the process of redressing, you didn't notice Daryl's side-eyed-stare directed towards you. Specifically, directed towards the parts of you that were.. uncovered. It wasn't often that he'd seen a pretty woman half-naked in front of him. You usually stuck to practicality over beauty. It was the apocalypse. So when he'd seen you without a shirt after throwing that rag at him. He had resisted the urge to shift in his tightening pants. After all, due to your lack of intentional provocativeness, it wasn't often you showed skin. When you did - Daryl's mind wandered.

He'd seen the things your body could do. He's - felt them. He's been under you as he watched your now, covered nipples perk under his attention. He's tasted the supple flesh that you'd been so adamant about covering in public. He's savored the taste of you as you dripped down his chin. He's indulged in your tongue's hidden talents - on more than one occasion. He's hovered over you as your chest pressed against his. He's felt your chest bounce with his unrelenting movements inside of you.

You only shared these moments with Daryl in private. He's only seen you when no one else was there to see you two with one another. Daryl didn't mind that. You trusted him enough to show him the most vulnerable parts of you, it made the strings of his heart pull, and his arms itch to wrap around you. He didn't expect you to flaunt your body if you didn't wish to. That being said, it wasn't often you'd undressed or showed any sensuality in public.

The rare times you did - Well, Daryl was still a man, and to him... You were an insanely attractive woman.

Daryl cleared his throat. Moving a hand to his crotch and adjusting himself, holding back the pleasured sounds building in the back of his throat. He tore his gaze away as your breasts were covered by the clean shirt he'd thrown at you. He hadn't expected you to redress in the item. He'd thought he was poking fun at you with what you'd been so particular about. He didn't expect you to give him such a gratifying show.

He'd been glad you did.

"Sporting goods store," You absentmindedly voiced, "Lanterns?" As you unpacked an extra duffle from your backpack, you kept your vision trained on Daryl.

The man needed a moment. You weren't always aware of the effect you had on other people. Daryl had to remember that you weren't trying to turn him on.

"Probly" The man's voice was strangely deep and gravelly as you set the extra bag on the floor and held up the original bag with the other.

You nodded in his direction before taking a handful of the same utility pants you'd changed into and stuffing a few pairs into your awaiting backpack. You grabbed another few pairs and stuffed them further into the sack before ultimately deciding what you'd captured had been enough. You then moved to the other side of the store and repeated the process with T-shirts and other wilderness clothing.

Daryl released a long breath and continued his search for more supplies.

-----

You scooped up the last of the memory foam as Daryl pulled out the supplies from the duffles you'd filled throughout the day. He'd already finished securing the mall fence enough to be safe for your overnight stay. Small establishments in malls were all equipped with private gates. When it was closing time, the gate could be pulled down, and that'd be the closing sign for the night. Now the gates would help keep out walkers.

Which is precisely what you'd use them for.

The sky had begun to darken—the sun disappearing behind the horizon. Walkers began to populate the parking lot outside of the mall. Daryl and yourself had vertically flipped mattresses before piling them against the gates. Then, you both had taken apart a bed and used the fabrics and frames to cover the gaps in the built-in gate. If there were any breaches in other areas of the mall, the mattresses would keep you and Daryl out of the sight of the intruding walkers.

Plus, You'd convinced Daryl that the memory foam inside would serve well as poor-man medical supplies. You'd left two mattresses for yourselves and carved out whatever memory foam would fit into the bag you and Daryl hadn't already packed.

"Lotions?" Daryl questioned as the ruffling of a bag sounded through the small, empty space you'd inhabit for the night.

"Yep, Women at the prison would like the lotion. It smells good, and keep a bottle of shampoo out."

Now, where was the zipper? Your hands traveled along the expanse of a memory foam-filled bag. When your palm caught the opening, your fingers followed the cool, bumpy metal. They discontinued their path when they found and grabbed hold of the tiny handle that would allow the bumps to click together and complete the packing process. With one hand, you held the two ends of the stuffed bag together. With the other, you pulled the tiny zipper handle along the path of the jagged metal lines and sealed the duffle while staring into the deep, dark void ahead of you.

Another zipper being zipped killed the silence that followed Daryl's quietness. The noise of the zipper had signaled he'd been finished rifling through your bag. You turned your head in his direction. Well, where you thought his direction would be.

Another zipper. This time being... Unzipped? Had he unzipped a second bag, or had he rezipped the bag he'd been rifling through earlier? He had your bag. Your bag contained a flashlight. Is that what he was searching for? It should be. If a hand was in front of you, the dark void cast over your eyes would make it impossible to register it.

You placed your hands on the cool floor in front of you. Performing a light sweep to clear your path. When your hands collided with no further obstacles, you proceeded to shift your weight. Your hands supporting your head and shoulders as you moved your knees to prop the second half of your body up.

You slowly itched forward. Your hand settling on an area further in front of you and your opposite knee following in suit.

For animals, the loss of vision meant death. If a mouse couldn't see, how would it find its food? How would it make its way through a structure without being caught by a predator or stumbling into something dangerous?

Before the apocalypse, human blindness could be worked with and still be survived. Now, the loss of vision was just as much of a death sentence as a bite. Blindness ensured that you wouldn't have the necessary sense to save yourself when a walker was on top of you. If you'd taken the route of running, where would you run to? What if a separate walker intercepted your path, but you were blind to the obstacles in the way of survival?

The darkness you were in the middle of was a void. A void that swallowed your every sound and crushed your lungs. Fingers... Rotten fingers clutched your upper arm. More of them moving onto the cold skin of your cheek. Your arms shook, your brow furrowing, and your eyes clamping shut. Where was the sound? Where was Daryl?

Where is anything? Where are your arms? They're gone... So are your legs. Where is the air? You can't find the air. If there's no air, you'll suffocate. If you suffocate, who'll help Daryl get the bags back to the prison? Where is the prison? You can't die now. You have to help Daryl. People at home are relying on you to provide supplies. Please not yet. No, this can't happen.

Your muscles clenched around your bones tightly enough to shatter them. The world was pitch black, and the roaring of blood in your ears dampened your ability to comprehensibly hear. It was a perfect time for the hands to drag you into the bottomless pits of despair, death, and self-undoing. How would you stop them? How could you fight and live to tell the tale?

The warm, rotten flesh of the hands smoothed along your skin, moving down your arms and your wrists, your weapon wielders. The hands were here to take away your primary defense method before feasting on your live flesh and taste the warmth of your blood.

Wait... Warm? Since when do the hands of walkers, of death bringers bear... warmth?

Light entering your sealed retinas caused your head to whip up from its slumped-over position between your shoulders. Light? If you were blind, would you be able to see the light? Were you dead? You had to be. The light was chasing away the darkness. The hands had withdrawn, and the pressure was disappearing from your bones. If this was the afterlife, then it was safe to open your eyes, right? You were dead. Nothing could kill you when you were dead.

When your eyelids lifted, Daryl was in the process of backing away from the dimly lit lantern and moving towards you for the second time. His arm outstretched, his hand returning to your cheek graciously and lightly, featherily stroking your skin.

"Are you dead too?"

Daryl's head slightly tilted, his brow furrowing, "Nah,"

The man's other hand moved to the nape of your neck. As if grounding you to him instead of allowing you to float away. Keeping the shadows from swallowing you after you drifted into the voidian abyss, melting into the dark to never be seen or heard from again.

"You ar'ight?"

A deep inhale and a deeper exhale. You weren't dead. The hands were capable of pulling heads from their shoulders, but they were cradling you so gently. How could you not feel safe? They weren't here to drag you into the bottomless pits of despair, death, and self-undoing. They were here to break you away from the paralyzing fear that came with the dark in the apocalypse.

Daryl's exhales fanned across your face. You only needed to lean forward a couple of inches, and your lips would touch. His facial hair had whisps of gray. Grime, blood, and grease caked his shoulders down to his collarbone. His eyes, his eyes were a mesmerizing Caribbean sea blue. If you stared for too long, the waves of his iris' would swallow you, and you'd never return to reality ever again.

If it weren't for the dirtiness in his skin, you would have allowed yourself to drift off into the sea of his gorgeous blue eyes.

"You kept a bottle of shampoo out?"

Daryl moved away from you, picking up a plastic bottle from behind him. As he held the bottle out to you, you shifted your weight to rest on your knees. You sat in an upright position, your hands being freed from the burden that came with keeping your shoulders upright.

You accepted the shampoo held in Daryl's hand, "Get me a water bottle,"

He nodded before moving behind him and ruffling through an opened bag.

"Then stand up and take off your clothes."

The shuffling of the bag was put to an abrupt end, Daryl's light tuffs of air freezing in time along with the movements of his muscles. His breath caught in his throat, and his mind raced with possible meanings behind your words. Did you just tell - order him to strip? What did you mean? Were you trying to undress him to embark on a sexual fantasy that involved... him?

"I'm not trying anything... sexy. I just refuse to sleep with you when you're caked in -" You gestured from Daryl's waist to the tip of his head "- That"

Daryl furrowed his brows and inspected the areas of his body you'd gestured to. His skin was its usual color. His clothing was normal. Was it not? Was the sleeveless too coolly dressed for the occasion? Was he sweaty? Did he spill something all over himself during breakfast? What the hell did you mean? You'd slept in worse conditions back at the Quarry.

"M' Fine"

"Yes, you are, but that's a fresh mattress when we've been sleeping on prison cots" You tip-toed to the gutted mattress adjacent to the untainted bed, "We should... savor it."

Daryl's brow relaxed, his shoulders sagging as his gaze fixed itself on your hopeful expression. You weren't... wrong. A nice, soft, genuine bed would do wonders for his back as he rested his eyes for the night. When was the last time you'd gotten a good night's sleep - together? Your methodical breathing lulling him into a sense of foreign safety. The sensation of your skin against his as he pressed his lips against your bare shoulder.

A quiet inhale and a longer exhale.

What was there for Daryl to lose or gain? If he removed his clothing in front of you... You'd wash him? The concept caused his head to spin and a scoff to rise in the back of his throat. Why wouldn't he? But why would he? It was a stupidly long process for a temporary gain.

You wanted to wash him. You would clean the dirt from his skin, so enjoying the night on a bed would be more... comfortable. To you, the lack of grime would make the experience more relaxing and feel less like the apocalypse. Allowing you to wash him would give you... satisfaction right? Taking his clothes off in front of you, letting you use the shampoo on his skin... Would make you happy? A frown pulled at his lips. He didn't want to do any of this. Couldn't he just sleep in the bed? A little dirt never hurt anybody.

Although, on his part, a small sacrifice would be worth your glee. That's all taking his clothes off would be, right? A small thing. He wasn't... exposing himself in front of you. Not at all. He was just keeping his clothes from being wet through the night. He wasn't... doing anything he hadn't done before.

Except he was. Naked sex was chasing an orgasm without clothing on. No one was staring or assessing appearances. If Daryl stripped in front of you without being in a situation where you'd been focusing on pleasuring one another, then you'd - see him. What if you didn't like what you saw? What if, after seeing him, you realized you didn't want him as much as you did before?

Daryl's dick brought you pleasure. That much was obvious. You'd never leave him for any incapabilities in sexually satisfying you, but what if you prefer the way someone else looked? Daryl's facial hair was scruffy, his eyes were often bloodshot, and his skin was rough compared to yours. He didn't bring home flowers or groceries. He was more qualified to take life on a motorcycle rather than life in a minivan. What if, after taking in what he had to offer, you decided he wasn't worth it?

"You could keep your underwear on."

Instead of replying, he fished a water bottle from his backpack and shrugged off his angel-winged vest. He was going to... let it happen. Daryl wanted you to belong to him, all of you. He longed for the mornings he could wake up cradling you in his arms. He'd never been willing to listen to someone so intently as much as he'd been with you. He wanted to be yours as much as he wanted you to be his. If he was going to... act upon that, he needed to be willing to do things like this, no matter how out of his comfort zone it was.

When he stood up and took in your position, he was pleasantly surprised to see you... without a shirt. Why were you without a shirt? Seeing you without the cloth covering your skin was both a dose of courage and an immense turn-on, but that didn't explain your lack of a shirt.

You bent down and retrieved a small memory foam patch from the bed. Your utility pants tightening around your ass was a sharp punch to the gut. The tightening in his pants was a reminder that Daryl wasn't fully undressed. He brought his thumb to his mouth and lightly began chewing on the skin there. Daryl moved his hand back to his side when you straightened your back, but he continued fiddling with the nail. Daryl had to remove his trousers and the shirt before the washing could... happen.

Fuck he hated this. Not only was it vastly uncomfortable, but it was pointless. Daryl was just going to get dirty again tomorrow. Why would he need to be washed today? Just for a nice night in a bed? He wasn't drunk enough for this. It was pointless and time-consuming.

When you turned around and stuffed the memory foam padding into one of your pockets and stuffed the other with the bottle of shampoo, Daryl's mental turmoils calmed to disagreeing whispers. You were gorgeous. The faint light of the lantern caused a soft golden glow to encapture the beauty of your skin. Your exposed curves and edges were viewable to him and only him. When your eyes found his blue iris', any whispers of protest in his mind were instantly put to rest.

Your eyes were so... encapturing. The colored pupils were so intense and soft at the same time. They bared into Daryl's eyes with innocence and adoration that was utterly, wholly foreign to him. No wonder he would do something like this for you. All you had to do was maintain eye contact with him, and he'd bend over backward as long as those orbs would continue to gaze at him with such pure devotion.

When your hands began to slowly and sensually unbuttoned his flannel from the neckline, any possible regret flowed from his body quicker than the blood flowing to his crotch. Daryl fiddled with his mouth, his teeth softly grinding together.

When his flannel was unbuttoned, the breaths coming from his brief exhales filled the silence in the room. The hairs at the back of his neck stood on end. The faint glow of the lantern only fueled the warmth flowing like magma in his veins. Your fingers delicately caressed against his sides before pushing back the fabric of his flannel, exposing Daryl's midsection.

When you were satisfied with your work on his waist, you dragged your hands up his sides, leaving a trail of goosebumps on his abdomen. The man's breath was shallow and weak. His heartbeat raced and thumped erratically. Your palms slithered under the cloth hanging on his shoulders. You softly kneaded the skin below the flannel, then trailed your hands down his shoulder blades and down to his elbows. The flannel slipped down his wrists, where he caught it and threw it into the gutted mattress for safekeeping. Letting it fall to the floor would defeat the entire purpose of this... experience.

Your chin rose to stare into the vast oceans of Daryl's eyes as you softly unbuckled his belt. The metal clinking together only fueled the burning hot tension filling the scent of the air. Your gaze was meek, innocent, and almost apologetic as you unbuttoned his jeans and unzipped the fly. Daryl's breath was knocked clean from his lungs as your hands circled around his waist to his lower back and slipped your thumbs into the belt loops. When you pulled the denim over the curve of his ass, the man's muscles tightened around his frame, his knuckles balling into fists. Your tugging was met with faint resistance when the hemline of Daryl's pants went below his hips. It hadn't proved to be a problem as you circled your hands over his sides. Your attention turning from his eyes to his lower body. Your fingers digging into his front pockets as you gave one last slow tug, his denim pooling at his ankles.

You lifted your chin, initiating eye contact with Daryl a second time. You ran your hands down his forearms and wrapped your fingers around the neck of the water bottle, then you softly drew the bottle out of his already fragile hold. Daryl's eyes searched through the vast expanse of your iris' as you backed away from your previous almost chest-to-chest position. His fingers tingled with the urge to keep you close. His chest ached to feel your curves press against his bare skin. Daryl was done waiting. He was done teasing. What would he gain by further delaying his urges?

The man bent down and unhooked his pants from his ankles, stumbling away from the denim unceremoniously. When he was free from the pants, he threw them in the same direction he threw his flannel. He didn't waste any time seizing you by the waist and molding your chests together. Pressing his half-hard crotch against your pelvis and attaching his lips to your neck, savoring the unique flavor of your skin.

A strike of white-hot pleasure shot from the pit of your stomach to the tip of your clit. Daryl's tongue peeked from behind his lips and quickly darted out of his mouth for a quick taste of your neck. The action caused a tuff of pleasured air to escape your lungs. You wrapped your arms around the man's neck, the hand free of the water bottle reached to the back of his head and gripped the hair at the bottom of his scalp, giving a soft, experimental tug. Daryl's deep, gravelly groan was followed by a jump in his pants and an expansion of the tent forming in his boxers.

"We-" You were cut off by a gentle nip to your neck, "We don't have any condoms."

"So?"

Daryl's hand moved from the top of your waist to your lower back, resting at the hem of your pants.

"So we can't... do it."

"Can't do what?" Daryl moved his lips to the skin just under your earlobe. A harsh bite to the sensitive skin of your neck caused your back to arch further into his chest and the muscles of your lower body to clench around nothing. You needed to hold a boundary. You weren't going to risk having a kid... the man pressed against you wasn't making it easy to say no.

"We can't fuck Daryl."

He replied with a slow, heavy thrust into your core. His hips moving back before slamming into yours so forcibly that it sent a whimper of pleasure to rip itself from your lips. His hands traveled around the bare skin of your back. Starting from the bottom of your lower spine and pausing at the strap of your bra. When he slipped a finger between your skin and the stretchy material. The entirety of your skin erupted in an all-consuming flame, goosebumps traveling throughout your body.

Condoms be damned. Who needs protection, right? As long as Daryl pulls out instead of finishing inside you, the chances of pregnancy were low. You wanted him now. You wanted the pulsing of his cock inside of you as huffs, and quiet grunts of pleasure filled the air of the closed-off mattress store. You slipped your thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, prepared to pull them down, and proceed with the deed.

That's when Daryl decided he didn't want to pulse inside of you. The man pulled away from your body. Unlatching his lips from below your ear and moving his arms back to his sides. With the lack of the man's body heat, the air around you was cold and empty. Your skin was no longer radiating heat, and the tingle between your thighs began to cool down.

"Wh-"

"Well, come on," Daryl gestured to his chest, "ya said you wou'dn't sleep with me 'till I was clean."

You gaped at him, your jaw pulled to the floor and your eyes wide. This cheeky little - not little - this cheeky fucker was going to use your words against him? That... wasn't fair. Ok, if he was going to be like that, you would just wash him then. You wouldn't try your attempts at seducing him or beg him to fuck you into the mattress. You were just going to wash him up and go to sleep. It was ok that you weren't getting fucked tonight. Sleeping was nice too. You wouldn't play into his game by playing into his game.

You unscrewed the water bottle, stuffing the top into your back pocket. You stepped closer to Daryl, your chests only inches apart. His eyes followed your every move as if you were a snack he wasn't patient enough to wait for. His predatory gaze sent shivers down your spine and strikes of pleasure to shoot like lightning between your legs.

Your unoccupied hand unveiled the memory foam sponge you planned to use to scrub his skin from any grime or potential dirtiness. With your eyes trained on the man's collarbone, you brought the water bottle above Daryl's shoulder and poured the water over his chest. The droplets cascaded down his chest, dripping down every edge, curve, and divot his skin had to offer.

Your throat had begun to dry. Imagine if you could just - lick the water from Daryl's chest to his collarbone. The liquid dripping from the man's skin would undoubtedly serve in purging the thirst rising in the back of your throat from the rather heated atmosphere. Too bad the water was mixed with dirt, sweat, and blood.

You poured water over the memory foam, drenching the surface before squeezing the contents over Daryl's midsection, wetting his skin to allow the soap to be put to proper use. Next, you had to uncap the bottle of shampoo.

When you'd unclicked the switch nozzle thing on the top of the bottle, you poured a sizable glob of shampoo onto the spongy memory foam before kneading the suds into the mattress material.

When you were satisfied with the results, you slapped the soapy foam onto Daryl's chest. Your lips quirked up, and a slight sound of amusement rose to the back of your throat as wetness spattered around the area of impact. Daryl's moved his neck, shying away from the suds that had been launched in different directions.

How long would it take to scrub away the dirt caking his surface? Daryl wasn't a piece of Tupperware that one could harshly scrub before throwing into a dishwasher. The man was a human being who had skin and bones and flesh. Bathing him utilizing the vanilla-scented shampoo would be an art, not a science. You wouldn't treat this as if you were washing a car. You'd treat this as if you were lightly polishing an antique sword you'd save for generations to come.

You softly swiped the soapy memory foam across Daryl's wet bicep. The suds turning from white to a dull brown as you continued to knead his flesh beneath the soft material. The man allowed his arms to be gently handled and caressed as you softly worked the grime off his skin from his shoulder to his wrist. Daryl wasn't just aesthetically pleasing or sexually astounding. He was a person so good and so unknowingly worthwhile. How many times had his hands defended something with such magnitude that afterward, they hurt? How often did he risk them to collect supplies for someone important enough to him to warrant his consideration and protection?

The scent of vanilla swirled in the air as you rinsed away the browned suds from his limbs. The beautiful pale of his skin revealing itself through the thick layer of dirt that once covered his original tone. When the skin of his front was clear of any foreign substances, you threw the shampoo-soaked memory foam into a random unoccupied corner. Then, you rinsed the residual suds off of your fingers before screwing the water bottle shut and setting it onto the nightstand Daryl had set the lantern upon. The shampoo bottle had been carelessly thrown to the floor after you'd drenched the makeshift sponge.

Without further ado, you turned your attention to the vast oceans of Daryl's eyes before hooking your wet hands behind his head and pulling his lips to yours. It's why you'd removed your shirt earlier. You'd wanted the option to press yourself against the man without dampening your new top.

Daryl's hands slithered around your waist. His left arm itching dangerously down your lower back as his right hand moved to cradle the back of your neck. You softly caressed his lips with yours, careful to be firm but not harsh enough to clash teeth. Your skin erupted in excitement as you fisted Daryl's hair, tingles moving down your spine as you savored the feeling of the man arching into you. After pulling you further into his chest, Daryl licked your bottom lip before tilting his head to further deepen the kiss.

You ran your hands down his neck and to his shoulders, softly gripping the joints as Daryl's tongue freely explored your mouth. His fervor caused your heartbeat to pound erratically and your lower muscles to twitch in anticipation. When you ran your hands down his shoulder blades, Daryl's lips detached themselves from yours, his arms moving to rest around your waist.

The man's blue orbs peered into your eyes with such a welcoming intensity. He studied not only you - but your very soul. His gaze hadn't wavered, and his body was stiff as a board under your fingertips. You stared back, your watch lacking the same intensity but unwavering nonetheless. Daryl pursed his lips and closed his eyes. He moved his forehead to rest on yours as his knuckles tightened into fists behind you. Was he ok? Had something happened?

Before you could verbalize your worry, Daryl's forehead removed itself from yours as his arms unwound themselves from around your back. You tilted your head as your own arms fell from his shoulders. The previous warmth of Daryl's skin leaving an empty coldness on yours. Was something wrong?

Daryl took a long exhale before turning around. He stood before you with his back turned to your front. You were puzzled at; first, your brows furrowed as he turned his head to lightly peer at you expectantly.

You hadn't washed his back. You'd left the area untouched. What if he didn't want to be touched there? And if you did, What if it made him uncomfortable? Daryl was already uncomfortable with the idea of you bathing him the way that you had. You didn't want to add to his discomfort directed towards a situation you'd put him in. So, you didn't say anything about washing that area of him.

Was that what he was prompting you to do?

Your mind span from the influence of the high Daryl gave you. He had been willing to bare himself in front of you so openly. The adoration swelling in you from his willingness to be so voluntarily vulnerable with you was almost overwhelming. The raw affection stirring in the pit of your belly knocked your breath from your lungs and chased away the coldness left from Daryl's skin departing from yours.

You bent over to retrieve the water bottle, your gaze never moving from his.

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

Daryl huffed out a scoff, "Jus' get on with it, woman."

His continuation to sass you pulled a slight smirk from your lips that disappeared after you broke eye contact with him. Your gaze moved to scan the flesh of his back. In the dim lighting the lantern provided, Daryl's skin glowed like a golden sunset after the sun disappeared behind the horizon. The curves of his shoulder blades and spine shifted along with the movements of his lungs and limbs. Scarred tissue was littered throughout the skin of his back like strokes of fresh paint on an artist's canvas. There was something poetic about his scars. You shouldn't romanticize the man's pain, but his marks weren't... frightful. Not that scars were frightful, but his spoke so much louder than any of yours.

The scars were proof that Daryl wasn't dealt an easy hand throughout his life. The man may have lived around harsh circumstances throughout his development, but somehow, he grew into something so caring, so beautiful, so - good.

Daryl was a rose that grew from concrete, and the former wounds were proof that he'd lived through hardships that molded him into something that made him different from others. His scars were proof that he was resilient. His personality and strength were evidence that he could produce the thorns responsible for protecting both himself and those he valued.

You unscrewed the cap of the water bottle after you picked the shampoo bottle up from the floor. The lantern's soft glow highlighted every indent on the slightly raised skin of Daryl's scars. The dim lighting caused his tattoo design to seem as if a shaped shadow had settled over his shoulder blade. His back was a painted canvas. Every detail becoming more and more authentically, beautifully, unique the longer your gaze traveled over his skin.

Daryl's gaze hadn't left the dark corner in front of him throughout your preparation for the... washing. The lack of physical contact on his back caused his palms to sweat and the thump of his heart to overpower all other sounds present in the room. What were you doing back there? Why was he dumbly standing here if you weren't going to finish the process of washing him?

Of course, he should have known better than to think you wouldn't be appalled by the sight of his scarred skin. After all, what kind of man lets something like this happen to him? How could you be attracted to him when you deserved something so much better? You probably didn't even want to touch him anymore. There was nothing about him that was attractive, and now you'd figured it out too.

Before he could growl a strained, 'forget it.', cold water spilled over his shoulders and spread a layer of goosebumps over his arms. A shallow breath escaped his lungs. Daryl lowered his head in the direction of the floor, shutting his eyes as your hands made contact with the back of his shoulders. The scent of vanilla that invaded his nostrils and the tingle of your palms tenderly dragging from his shoulder blades to his back with a gentle firmness caused shivers to sprint down his spine. Your fingers stroking his skin smoothed his intense waves of uncertainty and regret into a calm serenity and relief.

This was the first time he'd ever displayed himself so willingly. He hadn't expected it to be so... alleviating. He'd never showed anyone such raw vulnerability before. It wasn't easy; it made his palms sweat, his limbs turn to lead, and his heartbeat had begun to rush erratically. But, in the end, letting someone see him was a heavy, crushing weight being lifted from his shoulders.

His scars weren't something he hid, but they weren't something he allowed people to see. They were a part of himself that he had no interest in sharing with others... but now he was sharing it with you. He trusted you, wholly, implicitly, unconditionally. It made sense that he'd shown you a feature of himself that he wasn't proud of. You didn't treat that feature with the same harshness he treated it with, nor were you as astonished as someone like Merle when your eyes were met with the discolored skin on his back. It was a breath of fresh air he hadn't known he'd needed.

Your reaction wasn't a reaction. You didn't say anything... consoling, hell, you didn't say anything. You just continued kneading the grime off of Daryl's back. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, but it was tense. Packed with an unspoken emotional intensity that neither of you had addressed, but what was there to say? Should Daryl thank you for what you were doing? It would come out forced and strange. If you were to say anything about his scars, Daryl wouldn't respond. What could be said without driving a wedge between each other? The silence was better.

You poured the last of the water in the bottle over the backend of Daryl's shoulders. The brown suds spattering onto the floor and revealing a lighter skin tone on Daryl's back. The man remained in his place, as still as a statue. If it wasn't for the light fidgeting of his thumbs and the bowing of his head, you would have assumed he was one. Your lip quirked up as you wrapped your arms around the man's waist from behind. Pressing a quick peck to the divot in his spine between his shoulder blades.

"Can we go to sleep now?"

Your grip loosened on the man as he turned in your arms. Daryl lifted an arm to rest on your hip. The two of you were chest-to-chest as you closed the space between the two of you. Resting your head on his body and locking your hands together behind his back. Daryl's arms moving to interlock behind you.

"Mhm," Daryl grunted.

The warmth of Daryl's skin radiated yours as you clung to his chest. The heat spreading a pleasant satisfaction from your skin to the tips of your fingers. Couldn't you stay awhile? Just like this? Daryl was so warm, and the ache in your shoulders began to spread throughout your body, and the heat of Daryl's was the only comfort you'd found. Your eyelids weren't as light as they used to be when you blinked.

A light, playful tap to your ass startled you awake. Since when had you closed your eyes?

"Putchur shirt back on."

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goldenxddeonu · 3 years

Text

Unravel His Soul

paring: prince!niki x princess!reader

genre: royal au x rich kids au

warnings: violence, mentions of death

Word count: 2.4K

Authors note: this is my piece for the collab <33

Fall was slowly disintegrating, making winter the talk of the kingdoms. Winter might just mean snow and cold weather to anyone, but to the royal families it meant the annual winter ball. Fabrics and shoes swiftly snatched off of racks, whispers filling the cold air on who the prince will choose this year as his partner. “Rumor has it, the prince isn’t even allowed to choose, it’s all set up. And then, the prince shoos off the princess in the with money. These modern day princes throw around money like it’s nothing.” You heard a group of girls gossip over. You didn’t care about silly things like that, you had your own kingdom in your hands. You didn’t need to care— just yet.

“Find your way to the door. Now.” A sharp raspy voice stated, followed by a thud. An envelope, which you supposed was money, thrown at a girl who looked about your age. “You were here for this anyways, no need to beat around the bush.” You stood there in the door way of the extravagant castle. Sunoo, the eldest brother, stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at his brother, he looked tired, tired of this ongoing cycle, a cycle you never knew about, but felt the presence of. Both doors open, causing a gush of wind to come fleeing in, causing everyone to turn their heads to look at the commotion. You standing there, followed by two knights, each by your side. Riki’s anger in his eyes softened, turning into confusion. The boy at the top of the stairs jolted towards you, powered by the strike of understanding what was going on. You weren’t stupid, you knew what was going on too. You showed up too early and you saw something you weren’t supposed to see, backstage work that wasn’t for display, the secrets of the magician.

The girl’s eyes brimmed with tears, embarrassment smeared all over face. She grabbed the money and stormed out. Just as she did, one of the knights got ahold of her to let her know a few things before she leaves. “If any of what just happened now is spoken about to anyone, you and your family’s head will be hung above the kings’ bed.” The room went painfully quiet. Sunoo offered you to sit, and you did. Right in front of you was the one and only, Riki. He looked ashamed. “Is this what’s been going on?”, you stated. “You imbecile” you scoffed. “Let me guess, I’m next? I’m not going to spend my time and love into someone who’s going to shoo me away with money in the end. No need to worry about hurting me, I wasn’t expecting anything anyways.” Riki’s eyes flickered anywhere towards you. You stood up and adjusted your dress. “Which way to my room?”

Sunoo quickly got up, leading you up the stairs. “I’m so sorry you had to see that princess..” you laughed, “No need to ponder in the past, plus all of the royal families had a feeling something was off.” he laughed with you. You had finally made it to your room. “Here you are princess. Let us know if you need anything, from food, to clothing, or just company!” he said beaming. You felt your self unintentionally smiling back. Everything about him was so contagious, his smile, his peppiness, and his overall aura. “I shouldn’t get too used to things here, it’ll all be over soon..” you thought to yourself. You spent all your time mocking all the gossip about this family, and swearing you would never even come close to the Kim family. And now you were apart of them. Who knew the king would choose you, of all people to accompany his son. You took a look around the room, soaking in every inch of it, white cabinets embroidered in gold, shiny marble that covered the floor. You laid down on the bed, looking up at the ceiling, concealed in beautiful colors, every bit told a story. Angels holding harps, clouds on clouds.

Just as you were about to unpack, three little knocks on the door were heard followed by a, “Princess, the Prince requested to meet you outside!” One of the servants stated. You prayed it was Sunoo, there was no way you would face Riki after being so harsh. You got into your outside attire, and left the room. You were lead to the garden, bright pops of pink and yellow flowers showered the garden, beautiful vines wrapped around the bright white gazebo right in the middle of it, trickles of water were heard due to the fountain, kissing the air as it gracefully spewed water. You looked around eagerly waiting for Sunoo. Sadly your prayers were not answered. There stood Riki. Just as he showed up, the servant placed two cups of tea and left. “Do take a seat, please.” He said quietly as he pushed your chair out and bowed. “Well, someone straightened out.” You said slightly taunting him. He was about to open his mouth to explain what happened but you cut him off. “You don’t need to explain to me. I know what’s going on.” You said as you took a sip of your tea. He smiled, looked you in the eyes and thanked you. Those eyes. So sharp yet so pretty, bittersweet. The servant walked in. “I hope didn’t interrupting anything, but it’s almost time for the ball.” Riki thanked her for letting us know and she left. “We should get going” he said. And with that you both took a leave.

Riki left first, he got to his room and immediately started to get ready. You and Sunoo on the other hand, decided to play around. Looking at the frost bitten windows, You gasped, “It’s snowing!” You heard you voice echo through the halls of the enormous castle, causing you to go red, and Sunoo to laugh. He grabbed your hand and pushed the doors open. You two were running and chasing each other like children, chucking snowballs at him and screaming after. Riki looked down at you at the window. He felt his heart ache. A tightening feeling at the bottom of his stomach. He was jealous. Jealous his brother got more along with his partner more than him, and angered more by the fact that you saw him at his worst.

You and Sunoo were pulled inside by the guards like children. Still laughing over what just happened. Your cold hands aching at the feeling of being in the cold for that long. You and him were thrown in your rooms, getting your make up and hair done. You were quickly thrown into your dress, and you were done. “That felt like a blink of an eye, you guys work so quickly!” You exclaimed. “It’s our job.” The servants said smiling softly. You were escorted out of your room, and to the stair way. At the bottom of them stood Riki and Sunoo. As you walked down the stairs, Sunoo was clapping, cheering you on. You flashed a smile, and as you did breathless Riki’s eyes shot down to the floor, as if he didn’t have a care in the world, except he did. He had all the cares in the world . “Alright it’s time we go in, everyone’s waiting.” You slithered your hand into Riki’s and whispered “Shall we?” He looked down at you and replied, “We shall.”

Just as he said that, the doors of the ball room opened and there was everyone. You even spotted your family. You two walked down the stairs, all eyes on the both of you. You two taking steps at the tempo the orchestra was playing, gracefully glancing at the guests. You made your way to the table. You sat down next to Sunoo and whispered, “Was I okay?” “You were magnificent.” “I hope so..” you laughed. “I’m going to go say hello and pay my respects to the people of the other kingdoms.” Riki said to you. “Alright! I’ll be here with Sunoo.” “That’s the problem..” he whispered so ever quietly. “What?” “Nothing-“ he shot back and left. As he left, music started to play. “Oh my gosh, this is my favorite song to waltz to-“ Sunoo stated. Just as he did you pulled him up and took him straight to the dance floor. You both bowed and placed your hands in each other. You two swayed left and right, immersing yourselves into the music. Riki was with a group of his prince’s he grew up with, looking at you two. “Isn’t she supposed to be yours?” The brothers Sunghoon and Jake stated laughing as they jabbed at him, throwing their hands over Riki shoulders. Riki pushed their hands off of him angered. Not just angered at this, but angered at everything that’s happened between you two. It isn’t fair, the way you walked in the castle, immediately face to face with the most horrible version of himself. If only you knew how he would go to “check up on your kingdom to make sure everything is in check”, but in reality, he just likes the way you look when you work. Face full of passion and strength. Or the way you gifted the little girls and boys of your village flowers, hugging them with all your might.

You and Sunoo went back to sit at your table, tired from all the dancing, to come back to cake placed prettily in front of each seat. You both sat back and ate. “Say aaaa~” Sunoo laughed at his own remark. “Aaaaa~” you laughed back, not expecting him to actually do it, but to your surprise, he actually did it. You laughed uncontrollably, just thinking about how everyone in the ballroom probably witnessed all this. All of this was put to a stop by Riki, making his way to your table, “Sunoo. We need to talk.” The way he was speaking, his facial expression. It was just like the first day you walked in. Sunoo got up, surprised.

And just like that they left the room. Leaving everyone to whisper. You sat there uncomfortably, being eaten alive by your own thoughts. “Is it about me? Did I do something wrong?” You thought. And then it hit you: you haven’t been spending time with Riki. He was the reason you were there. Could he be offended? Maybe he was jealous?.. You waited a couple seconds after they left so nothing looked odd to the guests. You bunched your dress in your fists and ran to the door. The live music getting quieter, and your breathing getting louder.

The doors shut. Riki and Sunoo, outside noses pink from the snow. “What’s going on-“ his question was answered by a punch. “How come you never let me have anything? How come you can just sit back and watch me finally have something good? You can’t watch your younger brother succeed, right? It hurts your pride too much.” Sunoo’s lip was bleeding, he was getting dizzy, the world wouldn’t wait for him. He finally got up and shot a punch at his brother. “What are you talking about?” Sunoo stated, his voice harsh. “Y/n.” Riki said, wiping the blood off of his cheek. He grabbed Sunoo by the collar, and pushed him against the walls of the castle. “You know I like her, why are you playing your cards?” He said sobbing. He dropped Sunoo, leaving him on the floor. He wiped his tears and gritted his teeth, “Dont come after me, I don’t even want to see you.” Riki passed right by you, slamming the door after him. You stood there frozen in the cold.

“Sunoo are you okay?-“ his head rising from his knees, his eyes drained from life. “I’m fine. There’s no need for you to worry about me. It’s better that you don’t anyways.” You wanted to reply, but all your words seemed to die at your tongue. He wiped his tears, dusted his pants and left. The moon was the only presence you felt at the moment. It felt reassuring to know that the moon wouldn’t leave you, always illuminating through the night. Your feelings finally catching up to you, overwhelmed by everything that’s happened in the past week. A few tears falling from your face. They were warm, and stung against your cold face. You were called back in by the guards, wondering where you’ve gone. Everyone had left by now. You entered the quiet castle, ever so still and peaceful. You grabbed a candle to light the way to your room. Just on your way up, you heard something from one of the other bedrooms.

It was from Riki’s. Sniffles and quiet cries were heard. You felt your heart sting, he seems so misunderstood. You took a deep breath in and slipped in quietly. His back was facing you. He was sitting on the other side of the room. You swiftly walked up to him, placing your hand on his back, startling him. He quickly wiped his tears. “Stop that, all you’re doing is suppressing how you feel.” He turned to you, eyes beat red from all the crying. His glossy eyes glowed under the moonlight peeking through the windows. “I’m sorry I’m the way I am.” He said, arrow straight to the heart, picking at your soul. “It seems unfair for me to judge you based on the way you acted, you were angered. I’m sorry for that.” You said putting his hands in yours. He looked down at the sight, causing him to smile. A lightbulb went off in your head. “I have an idea.” The confused boy tilted his head at you. You pulled out a tie from his drawer and wrapped it around his eyes. “Should I trust you?” He sheepishly asked laughing. “I don’t know you ask me.”

You took him in one hand and in the other the candle, the warm light reflecting on the walls. You walked him down to the ballroom. You quickly played music and ran back to him. You ripped off the tie, and placed your hand out. “May I have this dance?” He cringed at your statement, “I thought you’d never ask.” He said bringing the same energy to the table. You two danced all night until your feet were aching. Both of you fell to the floor, laying on your backs. “Thank you..thank you for hearing me out, you know? I feel like I’m just perceived as this evil monster, when no one even takes into account of what I go through.” He said chuckling, even though you know he was hurting. You sat up, looking down at him. You brushed his hair out of his face with your fingers. He held your wrist, softly pulling himself up and pulling you closer. “Everyone deserves a second chance.” You whispered. And with that, your lips met. Both of you cautious at first, slowly testing the waters. A warm kiss that sealed the envelope of the birth to a new young love.

[five month times skip]

There both of you were, looking down at the kingdom that now the both of you share. You laid your head on his chest, listening to the sound of his roaring heart. All it took was to unravel his secrets piece by piece to bring his soft soul to the surface.

#enhypen scenarios #enhypen soft layouts #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen niki #enhypen sunoo

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mellowyandere · 3 years

Text

SCP Academia Eraserhead Part 2

Reader: F

Characters: Aizawa Shouta (main); Kurogiri

Summary: After struggling to find his way out with Dr. L/N, Eraserhead is offered some help. (This turned into a lot more exposition than expected. Part 3 will get steamy though I promise! I’m just a hoe for setting the stage.)

Length: 1442 words

Warning: Yandere-themes.

He had been running for a while now. Hallways and corridors bleeding into one another in a way that turned his head upside down. He hadn’t had to open any doors so far, and a strange absence of security set off little alarms in the back of his head.

Left…no right? He snarled in frustration. Curse this stupid foundation. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy but this was simply ridiculous. He peered down at your unconscious form, nestled protectively against his chest in a layer of his tendrils. So small and weak... he had to keep pushing forwards.

He had been forced to kill a couple of SCP’s along the way, not all being as sentient and rational as himself. Their desire to kill you forfeiting their rights to life.

Shit. Another dead end.

Something cleared their throat behind him, causing him to spin on his heel. His tendrils flared out ready to cut down whatever it was. To his surprise there stood what appeared to be a man made of mist, wearing human clothing. His sharp attire strongly contrasted his own, which consisted of an orange jumpsuit, the top half having been torn to shreds when he unleashed his tendrils, and a pair of standard issued boots.

“Move out the way. Don’t make me hurt you.” He didn’t have time for this, who knew when security would appear to regain control of the breach.

The mist man raised his hands to show his non-hostility. “You look a bit lost… would you like some help leaving this place?”

Eraserhead narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Why would you help me?”

“Don’t you find it odd..” Ah great this might take a minute. If he wasn’t blocking off the hallway Eraserhead would have left by now, but the man in front of him didn’t look like someone he could simply side step.

“Beings such as ourselves don’t belong here. By all means humans are nothing more than fodder in comparison. And yet they contain us? They’re witty creatures with dangerous minds, it’s what gotten them this far. But so are we. This containment breach was no accident, I’m sure you’ve already noticed almost every enclosure open, save for the truly unhinged ones. And a complete lack of guards to corral you back to your prison. No, there are higher powers at play. But now isn’t the time to delve into that, so I’ll ask again… would you like some help leaving this place?”

The mist man finished his little speech and opened his arms, inviting Eraserhead forward.

“What’s the catch?” Eraserhead knew better. Nothing in this world was done from the kindness of one’s heart. Well, except for you. You were the only real kindness he had ever known.

The mist man chuckled. “I see you are a man of caution. Yes this exchange is not for free. We’ll be keeping tabs on you. Your intelligence and abilities make you a very strong creature indeed. One day we’ll need you to help free our kind from the shackles of humanity.”

Lowering his arms the man took on a more sinister aura. “Let it be known though, I don’t need your consent to teleport you. I’d choose my offer. After all that human in your arms looks so frail, she might not make it out here alive if you keep at it.”

Shit. This bastard wasn’t leaving him with much choice.. should he fight his way out? He wasn’t exactly sure what his opponents abilities were besides teleportation. Even if he erased them, can you punch a man made of mist? His clothes clung to him, but who knew his real body composition.

No. This man was too dangerous, and his threat towards your well-being still hung heavily in the air. “Alright. Deal.”

The mist mans nodded with a hum, satisfied with his answer. “Start with continent, State or province, then major nearby city. Small nearby towns if applicable.”

Eraserhead listed off what was asked of him. His goal was to bring you to his old self-isolation home. He used to live amongst humans with little to no problems. His larger than normal stature at 6’10” raised a few eyebrows but nothing too serious. He kept the dark markings along his torso covered, and a scarf helped to hide his deathly white complexion. As for the eyes, he always wore sunglasses.

His issue had arisen with the month of his “birth”. For as long as he could remember, during the month humans called November, he went absolutely feral. Losing all control over his himself he’d slaughter anything that crossed his path. He’d make sure to isolate before November came along, and for the most part it worked. He had lived many centuries alongside humans with only the occasional slip up.

Five years ago he slipped up. And the SCP foundation had been all over him ever since.

“I can’t get you to any of the nearby towns, but I can get you to the city,” the mist man stated. “Step forward, I’ll take you there now.”

With that the man began to spread out the mist that defined his body, pooling out until he filled the entirety of the corridor. Eraserhead stepped forward into the blackish purple abyss, his vision going dark. Squinting he tried to peer through the pitch black that surrounded him, until finally he could see again. Stars lit up the night sky above him, and the sound of cars echoed down far below. Stepping onto concrete he moved out of the portal. This creature had quite a powerful ability.

“What you do from here is up to you. We’ll give you some time to adjust and then we’ll contact you. Do not think that you can hide from us.” With that the mist vanished and Eraserhead was left alone atop a tall building with you in his arms.

It would be about a half a day of running to get you home from here. Meaning it would be wise to stock up on supplies now. That way he wouldn’t have any reason to leave you alone for the next week or two as you adjusted to your new home. The tall creature checked you over, making sure you wouldn’t wake up anytime soon before leaving you on the rooftop. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but he’d move fast.

Jumping from building to building he made quick work of locating and snagging some clothes from a local donation box in order to change out of the tattered orange jumpsuit. One extra-large black long sleeve shirt and accompanying extra-large pair of blacks pants. Grabbing a few bags that had also been inside, he headed for the nearest chain supermarket. He’d stock up on essentials like food and nest making materials, as well as daintier things that you might like such as feminine soaps and fluffy stuffed animals.

Due to the limitations in his interactions with you he didn’t really know what you’d want, but he had the rest of your time together to learn.

He was going to prove to you that he was the best mate you could ever dream of having. No one else would ever be good enough for you. And no one else would ever be good enough for him with you now in his life. He had never encountered a human like you before, and he’d be damned if anyone ever dared try to take you away or hurt you.

Making quick work of the supermarket he dashed out as the alarms rang. It hardly mattered though, he wouldn’t be coming back to this city. He had enough money stashed away that he’d be able to buy what he needed from small towns as to not draw attention to himself. Despite what the mist man had said about a new world order, he didn’t want to chance the foundation getting back on its feet and finding him.

Quickly climbing the building he left you on he was relieved to see your small form still sound asleep on the cold concrete. He wrapped his tendrils around his new stash of goods and scooped you up in his arms yet again, taking a moment to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck and deeply inhaling your scent.

Even if he had to give up part of his freedom to get here, holding you in his arms had all been worth it. Now all he had to do was get you home, and then he’d make sure to repay every gesture of kindness you had ever shown him tenfold. His precious cute little human.

#yandere aizawa #aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #yandere shouta aizawa #aizawa x you #bnha aizawa #SCP Academia

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nanagoswife · 3 years

Text

Noticing You, Noticing Me

Chapter Eleven

Summary: Reader introduces Obi-Wan to a friend.

W/C: 3.2k

Warnings: None? Please feel free to correct me.

A/N: Yes I used Epona from The Legend of Zelda as the model of reader's horse. Like, look at her. Can you blame me?😂

- - -

On the carriage ride home, you had fallen asleep in Obi-Wan’s loving grasp. You were awoken by a gentle call of your name.

Padmé hadn’t joined you on the way back. She instead elected to stay the night with her family.

So, it was just you and Obi-Wan as the carriage stopped. You had been a bit hazy, but he helped you. Every step of the way he made sure you wouldn’t fall back to sleep as you still stood.

You clung to his arm as you made your way through the hallways. The feeling of his warmth made you feel safe. There was no doubt in your mind that he would make sure you got back safe and sound back in your room.

Once you had gotten there, he made sure you were comfortable in your bed.

“Goodnight, my love,” he whispered, placing a kiss on your forehead before turning towards the door.

“Obi, wait!” you quietly exclaimed, a slight sense of panic rising in you. You didn’t want to be alone, not after all that had happened. No, you wanted your future husband to stay with you. You wanted the man you loved to stay.

The call made him pause in front of your door, turning to face you. “Yes, darling?”

“Will you… stay? Please?”

You watched as his expression softened in the light of his lamp. Then, you watched as he looked conflicted. Like he was thinking that it may be something that he shouldn’t do, but that’s not what won over.

Obi-Wan walked back over to the other side of your bed. “Alright,” he whispered, leaning across the mattress to cup your cheek as he leaned over you. “I’ll stay.”

That’s how you got to this moment as you watched Obi-Wan sleep as the sun slowly rose, welcoming the morning.

When you had first awakened, his back was facing you. You had to keep yourself from tracing all of the freckles that were sprinkled over his shoulders. It was like his back was its own night sky full of constellations.

Your admiration was cut short when he had turned in his sleep to face you. So, you studied his facial expression like you had the morning before. Slowly, your eyes drew down to look at a specific scar that lined his collar bone, cutting across his sternum. A part of you wondered how he got it, if it was painful.

It had taken a great deal of self control to not kiss it the night you first saw it. Hell, it had taken you immense self control to not kiss every inch of his skin that had been exposed. That wasn’t the time, though.

Unlike the other morning, you did nothing to wake him. You had no desire to. Not with the way his hair seemed like it burned like fire as the sunlight touched the amazingly soft strands. It was too perfect to ruin the moment just for his attention.

As you watched the slow rise and fall of his chest, excitement grew at the thought of spending so many mornings with him just like this. Only, when that happens, you’ll be his, and he’ll be yours. Eventually, the two of you would have a family.

The thought made you smile, having kids with him. It just seemed so natural with Daisy and Christian. Obi-Wan had even almost slipped and said that you were their mother. You thought it was sweet. Not only that, but it told you that he was thinking the same things you were that day.

Your thoughts were broken as Obi-Wan slowly opened his eyes, smiling when he saw you were already awake.

“Good morning,” you said quietly, feeling your lips curl into a smile as well.

He mumbled the words back as he raised a hand to cup your cheek. His blue eyes gazed into yours, switching between the two for a couple seconds before settling on one. Then, slowly, he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours.

Both of you seemed to sigh in relief at the contact. The longer you moved your lips against his, the more Obi-Wan seemed to lean over top of you. You didn’t mind, though. The feeling of his weight gently pressing into you was amazing. It made you feel something that you don’t think you’ve ever felt before.

What you did know was that your arms were wrapping around his neck, your hands finding their place in his hair at the back of his head. It wasn’t long after that, that you felt his tongue press against your lower lip.

Without a single thought, you opened for him, feeling his tongue glide over yours. The hand he had on your cheek slowly guided its way into your hair. It was a feeling that sent chills down your spine as you gently tugged at Obi-Wan’s hair. The light scratching of his beard didn’t help quell that feeling.

He groaned at the sensation, the vibration from his chest transferring to yours.

A few more moments went by before Obi-Wan pulled his lips away, resting his forehead against yours. Both of you were breathing heavily, your breathing fanning over the other’s face as you looked into each other’s eyes.

“Was that better than the poems?” Obi-Wan suddenly said cheekily.

You chuckled as your hands slid to hold both sides of his face. “Better than any literature I can think of.”

“Are you sure?” He kissed you. “Not even,” he kissed you again, “Shakespeare?”

Laughter erupted from you as he dipped down and rubbed his bearded cheek against your neck. It tickled you so much that you even had your legs nearly kicking underneath the blankets.

Obi-Wan’s own laughter filled your room before he kissed you again.

“Now, what were you thinking of doing today?” he asked, resting his forehead against yours.

“How are you with horses?”

“This is Graham,” you said as the horse greeted you.

Graham was a beautiful light brown. His flowing mane was a beige, as was his tail. The long, slender legs faded into the same colour around the hooves. He looked like a powerful horse, one that you would most likely see in a race.

Despite his appearance of what could seem like an intimidating figure, he was nuzzling into your face, causing you to giggle at the playfulness.

“Oh, Graham, I know. I know,” you said in laughter. “It’s been too long.”

Watching as your horse continued to shower you in attention, Obi-Wan could feel his smile never left his lips. It was plastered on as he saw the clear connection between you and Graham. All of it made him think about his similar connection with his own horse, Boga.

“I’ve had him for years,” you started, now turning your gaze to Obi-Wan’s as you pet the side of the horse’s neck. “He’s a huge cuddlebug. That doesn’t mean he can’t get in a good run, though. Right Graham?”

Graham gave a small whinny in response, solidifying his response with a stomp of his hoof.

Obi-Wan admired the moment. Nothing could make him move from this spot as he wished to only look at you like this. That was short lived as you came over to him and pulled him over to Graham.

“Graham, meet Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan, meet Graham.”

You watched as Obi-Wan put his hand into a loose fist, bringing it up to Graham’s nose. “Hello there, Graham,” he said softly.

If you were being honest, you were nervous for this interaction. Although the only negative interaction between your horse and another was Varlo, Graham had a habit of not acting… fairly.

With you, you never had a problem. But you had heard that there were odd times where Anakin would take him out and your trusty steed would be either stubborn or mischievous.

For a while, you never believed it until one day you witnessed it. At the time, it was kind of comical. Anakin had been riding Graham and you had been watching to see if your brother was telling the truth. He was. As soon as Graham had seen you, he almost seemed to snap back into the horse that you knew. You remember laughing for what felt like hours at Anakin’s defeated look.

Now, you were just hoping that reputation wouldn’t be passed on. A part of you was worried that Graham would possibly nip at Obi-Wan, like he had with Varlo.

That’s not what happened. Instead, you watched as Graham instead nuzzled his nose against Obi-Wan’s fist. With almost no hesitation, Obi-Wan switched laying his palm flat, running his hand up, across the white strip on Graham’s forehead, all the way to his ears. There, he ran his hand to the side of the horse’s neck.

You were amazed. Not once did you see Graham open up so quickly to anyone other than you.

“Do you have an apple?” Obi-Wan asked, breaking you from your stunned silence. You were glad that his attention was still on the horse in front of him. That meant he wouldn’t have seen how you almost panicked as you tried to register what he was asking.

“Um, yes, right here.”

From the bag that you had brought with you, you pulled one out and handed it to him.

“You’re a good boy, aren’t you?” Obi-Wan muttered as he let Graham eat the apple from his palm.

You smiled at the sight before joining the two. “Shall we go for a ride? Maybe find a place out by the lake once the sun goes down?”

Obi-Wan glanced at you with a smirk, nodding.

You could’ve sworn that the afternoon never even happened. All you knew that it was a time spent in laughter. Your cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

As you rode Graham through the countryside, Obi-Wan sat behind you. His arms were wrapped around your middle, holding himself close to you as the wind flew by.

At one point, your concentration on the sensation of riding a horse again was broken due to the man behind you. He had leaned down, letting his beard lightly scratch at the exposed area of skin on your shoulder. After what felt like an eternity, his lips caressed the skin there. A shiver ran down your spine as he pressed one more to your skin before moving up, kissing the delicate skin of your neck.

You had been so distracted by the feeling that you hadn’t noticed Obi-Wan taking the reins.

“One should not get distracted when controlling a horse, my dear,” he whispered into your ear, pulling back with a cheeky grin.

You rolled your eyes with a chuckle. “You are impossible, Prince Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan gave you a crooked smirk. “I apologize, Princess,” he said, bringing Graham to a stop as he continued to lean closer. “Is there something I can do to make it up to you?”

“Perhaps,” you whispered back, turning your head so you were facing him. Your lips were so close to his and soon it was gone. The feeling of his lips on yours was like a breath of fresh air. Sure, it hadn’t been that long since the two of you had kissed. It didn’t stop you from enjoying the feeling as if it were.

This moment felt like it could last forever before Graham whined, shifting and stomping a hoof. He wanted to get moving, and you could tell.

The two of you laughed at the impatience.

“Alright, alright,” you said to Graham with a chuckle, rubbing the side of his neck. “Just a couple more minutes.”

Graham responded with a small snort before turning his attention to a patch of grass.

You turned back to Obi-Wan who had an amused look on his face.

“Did that work?” Obi-Wan asked quietly, leaning closer to you once again.

“Maybe,” you replied teasingly.

Just as Obi-Wan’s lips were about to reconnect to yours, you prodded Graham back into motion. This caused Obi-Wan to scramble to get his grip back so that he wouldn’t fall due to the sudden start.

You laughed when you caught a glimpse of him. His hair was a mess while his eyes had widened. The shocked expression changed to one with mock disapproval before letting out a small chuckle.

This all went on for hours until the two of you decided to stop at the lake. It was the lake that was visible from the balcony the two of you met on. Each and every sight was just as fantastic as seeing it from that vantage point.

You had tied Graham up to one of the trees before grabbing a few things you had packed. One of which was a blanket. As you had set it up, you caught glances of Obi-Wan sneaking apples to Graham as he petted the horse. He tried to hide the fact that he was doing it, but failed. You knew exactly what he was up to.

Silently, you came up next to him as he pet Graham lovingly while sneaking another apple. Placing a gentle hand on his arm, he jumped, pretending like he wasn’t feeding your horse the fifth apple of the past few minutes.

“At least we know he’s not being starved,” Obi-Wan had said in protest when you told him that he was feeding Graham too many apples.

All you did was chuckle, shaking your head as you turned away.

“Are you going to join me? Or is Graham now the one you love?” you said over your shoulder playfully.

And that’s how the majority of the evening went. The two of you ate some food that you had packed before reading. Obi-Wan insisted on bringing a book that he thought you would like.

This all went on as the sun went down. At one point, the two of you stopped to watch the sunset. Together, you talked as you watched the sun dip below the horizon. You both watched as the light of the moon and the stars replaced their burning counterpart.

During this, the two of you laid back on the blanket. Your head rested in an area between his shoulder and chest, his one arm around you as his other propped up his head. With his arm wrapped around you, he gently rubbed his thumb in circles.

For a while, the two of you were silent as you listened to the night waking up. The sounds of frogs by the lake, the crickets chirped their lullabies, owls made themselves heard, a warning of a hunt about to begin. Everything combined was hauntingly beautiful as the two of you could only spectate.

Quietly, Obi-Wan began to hum. It was a song that you had heard before, but you couldn’t quite place a finger on it. Not until the song reached a specific part did you realize it was the first song the two of you ever danced to. It was your favourite song throughout your whole life. Now, the meaning has changed. Before, it was the song you learned to dance to with your mother. Oftentimes your father would join in, goofing around with you.

Now, as you listened to him hum the tune, you could only think of him. Everytime you heard it after the ball, you only ever could see him in your mind. The way he smiled when he looked at you, his amazingly blue eyes, the golden auburn hair that glowed in the sunlight. You wondered if he thought something similar whenever he heard it.

“Obi,” you called out quietly, tilting your head so you could look at him. He raised his eyebrows, interested in what you wanted to say as he continued humming. “Would you like to dance?”

Obi-Wan smiled in the moonlight, pausing his humming. “Of course.”

He let you sit up before following you, then helping you to stand. Easily, he pulled you against his body. His hands were immediately placed at your waist before he brought one to hold your hand.

For a moment, he only stared into your eyes as you placed your one hand on his shoulder.

It wasn’t until he once again began to softly hum that he started to sway. Yet, it wasn’t a proper dance just yet. You were admiring the small sparkle in his eyes from the moon. Even though the darkness kept you from seeing the proper blue, you didn’t mind.

After a few more minutes, Obi-Wan began to lead you as he never took his eyes from yours. His humming never wavered. It only seemed to grow in steadiness.

As the song went on, you dreaded its end. This was a moment you wished you could stay in forever. The feeling of his chest pressed to yours, his eyes staring into yours, the feeling of his hand drifting to your back to hold you ever closer, it all added to the experience.

When the song did end, Obi-Wan didn’t stop your dance. Instead, he rested his head against yours.

“I love you,” he muttered, almost in a way where if he didn’t say it that he would cease to exist.

With your hand that was on his shoulder, you brought it up to cradle the back of his head. You splayed your fingers through the soft strands of his hair as you tilted your head just so, slotting your lips with his.

A sigh of relief left your lips as he audibly announced his own. The small, happy groan sent a shiver down your spine.

“Is it… too cold… darling?” Obi-Wan asked between kisses, still slightly swaying with you.

You pulled away, resting your head on his once again.

You shook your head, looking into his eyes in the moonlight. “It’s just right.”

The news had spread like wildfire through the castle. To Varlo’s knowledge, this was something that only happened the night before. Why had no one told him that this was going to happen? Did his parents know? Did Anakin or even you know?

All Varlo knew was that he was pacing his room in anger. It was bad enough that the world was made aware of the relationship you and Prince Kenobi had. It would only get even worse as everyone would learn of the engagement.

All of it put a sour taste in his mouth. Before this, everyone was happy. Varlo had the popularity he needed to get around when it came to inter-kingdom relations all while Anakin and his father only helped it along. Although he loved you, Varlo was happy that you had no sort of popularity. Well, none other than being a way for people to get to him and Anakin.

Now, you were the one with the popularity. Ever since the ball, things had never been the same. No longer could the two of you joke around about how ridiculously in love Anakin was with Padmé. There were no more jokes because now you knew the feeling.

Varlo desperately wanted this to end. He wanted to be back on top. Nothing has been going well. He’s now turned into what you were. How you dealt with it nearly your whole life, he didn’t know.

The longer he paced, the more his thoughts rolled through his mind. It wasn’t until he thought of a way to change it back around that he stopped pacing.

“Brilliant,” he muttered to himself. Now all he needed to do was find a way to make his plan work.

- - -

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