How about we switch things up a bit đ I always see Dabura written super dominant like Sukuna⊠but what about a devoted Dabura with a dom female reader instead? Not gonna lie, I fully support powerful ladies taking the lead here you get it đ„đ
Dabura the Deskunte warrior, the one who once made entire clans kneel with a single look turns into the softest, most obedient mess the second you take control. This man is not just willing, he craves your dominance like itâs the only thing that quiets the storm inside him after centuries of carrying everything alone.
You donât need chains or cuffs to bind him. sometimes all it takes is your voice. He loves it so much it was low, firm, saying âkneelâ and he drops to his knees instantly, head bowed, horns tilted forward in perfect submission. His red eyes lift to meet yours with that quiet, reverent hunger, waiting for your next command like itâs the only thing that matters.
He loves when you tie his wrists behind his back with soft silk ropes (he could snap them in a heartbeat, but he never does). You straddle his lap while heâs bound, grinding slow and teasing against his aching cock, denying him entry until heâs trembling and whispering broken pleas: â Please⊠let me feel you⊠iâll be good.â you cup his face, thumb brushing over his sharp cheekbone and murmur âyouâre already so good for me, baby,â before finally sinking down on him inch by torturous inch.
The impact play is sacred between you. You love spanking him, hard, deliberate swats across his ass while heâs bent over the edge of the bed, muscles flexing under obsidian skin. each strike makes him groan deep in his chest, hips jerking forward involuntarily. Afterward you soothe the red marks with gentle kisses, licking slow circles over the heat, telling him âlook how pretty you mark up for me⊠my perfect warrior.â
Collaring him is your favorite ritual. you have a custom black leather collar, it was simple, elegant, engraved with a tiny flame on the inside tag. When you buckle it around his thick neck he exhales like a weight has lifted. You tug the o-ring lightly to guide him where you want him: between your thighs, mouth on your clit, tongue working slow and worshipful while you card fingers through his hair and praise him: âsuch a good boy⊠making me feel so good⊠donât stop until i tell you.â
He has a massive praise kink when youâre in charge. call him âmy good boy,â âmy sweet warrior,â âso strong and still so soft for me,â and he melts. His cock twitches every time you say it. Edge him for hours stroking him slow, stopping right before he comes, only letting him finish when heâs shaking and begging with small tears in his eyes. When he finally spills across your hand or your stomach, you kiss him through it, whispering âyou did so well⊠iâm so proud of you.â
Aftercare is non-negotiable and ridiculously tender. Once the scene ends you untie him immediately, pull him into your lap (yes, you make this 7-foot alien curl up on you like a giant puppy) and wrap him in blankets. you stroke his horns, kiss every inch of his face, rub salve into any marks you left and hold him while he comes down. He buries his face in your neck and mumbles soft, shy things like âthank you⊠for seeing me⊠for wanting me like this.â you always reply âi love every part of you, especially the parts only i get to see.â
When you dominate dabura, itâs fierce, filthy, and full of power exchange, but underneath every command, every rope, every slap, is the sweetest trust. He gives you his submission because youâre the only one he trusts to hold it gently and you take it because you know exactly how precious it is.
He is hot, sweet and so perfectly yours.
My devoted Dabura is kinda my favorite to write lately he is so sweet and hot. Actually I can imagine him like that in a few situationsđ
if youâve got any requests, drop them, Iâm always open for more smut stuff đ
If I have any Cross and Maru fans here I am also open to write of them some smut stuff
Idc, normalize kink shaming. Cause y'all be using âdonât kink shameâ and âitâs fictionâ to excuse being into incest, pedophilia, cannibalism, etc. Like, be so fr, you ship a 14 year old with a 30 year, want to get railed by your dad and want to see two brothers f*ck each other. I donât engage with things fictionally that I donât like/wouldnât want to do in real life. Yes, Iâm judging you.
Summary:Well known for working with some of the top A-listers in manhattan, doesnât say much, when he does he has very strong opinions that not very many people wanna hear them. Protected countless people over the years, the reader's father gets into some financial trouble due to getting revenge on his late wife's death. You hate everything about the life you have been forced into, but keep it to yourself as you knows how much image is important to your father. Ben gets requested to look after you due to your father being too involved in money frauds, after they killed your mother he instantly goes to protect you by hiring a bodyguard for you.
Warnings: no use of y/n, MDNI , language, mature, soldier boy need I say more, mention of parent death.
A/N:So excited for the start of this new series, please lmk if you would like to be added to the taglist of this fic or my permanent taglist for everything I upload!!!
The house had never truly felt like yours, even though one day your name would inevitably become attached to it in the same suffocating way generations before you had been tied to the estate, because despite how breathtaking people always claimed it was whenever they stepped through the front doors for the first time, there had always been something hollow about the place that no amount of wealth could soften. Guests spoke about the house with the same reverence people reserved for museums and historical landmarks, their voices lowering instinctively beneath towering painted ceilings imported from Italy decades before you were born while their eyes wandered across marble floors polished so perfectly that the crystal chandeliers overhead reflected across them like pools of liquid gold. The estate itself sat tucked far enough away from the rest of Manhattan that silence settled unnaturally over the grounds once the gates closed behind arriving cars, hidden behind wrought iron fencing, ancient trees wrapped in delicate white lights throughout every season, and security so discreetly placed around the property that most visitors never even noticed it existed.
Everything about the house screamed old money in the most intimidating way possible, not the kind of wealth people flaunted desperately through designer logos and social media attention, but the kind that had existed for generations and therefore never felt the need to prove itself to anyone. Imported artwork lined the walls beneath antique sconces glowing softly against dark wooden panels, fresh flowers were replaced every morning before the previous arrangements had the chance to wilt, and chefs moved through the industrial kitchen preparing elaborate meals for guests who would ultimately pick at the food more than they actually ate it. Every single detail within the estate had been perfected carefully over time until the entire place felt less like a home and more like a monument dedicated to power itself. Your father preferred it that way.
He liked permanence, tradition, and control in equal measure, and the house reflected all three perfectly.
âYouâll greet everyone personally tonight.â
His voice cut cleanly through the music and conversation drifting upward from downstairs while you stood beside him at the top of the grand staircase overlooking the entrance hall below, one hand resting lightly against the polished banister as black cars rolled steadily into the circular driveway outside. Women draped in diamonds stepped gracefully onto marble floors while men in perfectly tailored suits laughed loudly over glasses of whiskey older than most of the people serving it, and somewhere in the background a pianist played softly enough that the music blended seamlessly into the atmosphere rather than standing out from it. You glanced toward your father beside you, already knowing exactly what kind of evening this was going to become before he even continued speaking.
âI always greet everyone personally.â you replied carefully. âYes,â he answered calmly while adjusting the cuff of his jacket, âbut tonight I need more than politeness.â That immediately told you enough. Business. Everything in your family always circled back to business eventually, no matter how elegant the setting surrounding it happened to be. âThere are people attending tonight who are considering partnerships with us,â your father continued while his eyes briefly shifted toward the front doors where another group of guests entered the house. âPeople whose trust matters greatly, and I expect you to make them feel comfortable while theyâre here.â You swallowed the sigh threatening to rise in your throat because there was never any point arguing during conversations like these, especially not when your father had already decided exactly how the evening would unfold before either of you even stepped downstairs.
Appearances had always mattered more than anything else in your family. Appearances mattered when your mother died. Appearances mattered during the funeral where politicians offered carefully rehearsed condolences while reporters crowded outside the gates waiting for statements nobody in your family ever intended to give. Appearances mattered every single day afterward while your father slowly buried himself beneath grief, revenge, and business so completely that sometimes you barely recognized the man standing in front of you anymore. You looked back toward the crowd gathering downstairs beneath the warm glow of chandeliers, watching strangers drift through the entrance hall holding expensive drinks while pretending corruption did not exist within the very circles they occupied so comfortably. âOf course.â you said quietly. Your father seemed satisfied enough with the response because he rested a hand briefly against your shoulder before nodding toward the staircase stretching downward beneath you.
âYou look beautiful tonight.â The words sounded less like affection and more like approval, which somehow made them feel heavier. The gown you wore had been selected earlier that afternoon by someone your father paid specifically to understand how wealthy women should present themselves publicly, black silk fitted elegantly enough to attract attention without appearing desperate for it, paired with understated diamond earrings and the necklace that had once belonged to your mother before it became another object preserved carefully inside the house after her death.
You hated wearing her jewelry, not because you disliked it, but because every piece felt like carrying around fragments of someone you could never get back no matter how tightly your father tried preserving her memory inside these walls.
âGo downstairs.â he told you softly.
And like always, you obeyed.
The staircase curved dramatically beneath your heels while conversations lowered subtly around your arrival, heads turning instinctively toward you the same way they always had for as long as you could remember. You had grown up surrounded by people wealthy enough to recognize one another instantly through posture, clothing, and surnames alone, and you already knew exactly what most of them saw whenever they looked at you. Privilege. Luxury. Perfection.
Another polished daughter raised carefully inside Manhattanâs elite circles. You smiled gracefully through introductions while guests kissed your cheeks and complimented how much older you looked now, how strikingly you resembled your mother, and how proud your father must be every time you entered a room. Every conversation eventually blurred into the next until they all sounded identical, filled with rehearsed observations and compliments nobody genuinely meant beneath layers of practiced sophistication.
âYou look stunning tonight.â
âYour father speaks so highly of you.â
âYouâve become the image of your mother.â
You wanted to scream every time someone said that last one because nobody ever understood how exhausting it felt constantly being compared to someone whose absence still haunted every corner of your life, but instead you smiled politely because girls raised like you learned very early how to perform no matter how disconnected they actually felt inside. You let investors monopolize conversations while pretending interest in stories you barely listened to, laughed softly at jokes that were not remotely funny, and thanked women dripping in diamonds for compliments you had heard hundreds of times before. Nobody ever noticed how detached you truly were because nobody expected someone surrounded by luxury to be unhappy, and from the outside your life looked far too perfect for anybody to question whether you actually enjoyed living it.
Hours passed beneath the haze of expensive wine and low conversation before the pressure of constant socializing finally became too suffocating to tolerate any longer, so you excused yourself quietly and slipped upstairs toward the quieter side of the house before another stranger had the chance to ask whether your father planned on arranging your marriage anytime soon.
The second floor remained dimmer and far calmer than the chaos downstairs, with antique sconces casting soft golden light across thick carpets stretching beneath polished floors while enormous oil paintings stared down from the walls in ornate frames older than half the city itself. Generations of carefully preserved wealth looked back at you from every portrait lining the hallway, and despite how elegant each painting appeared, not a single person immortalized there had ever looked genuinely happy. You moved toward the secondary staircase near the library, intending to return downstairs through the less crowded side of the estate when you rounded the corner too quickly and collided directly into someone hard enough that the force nearly knocked you backwards completely. A hand closed firmly around your arm before you lost balance.
âWatch your step.â
The voice was low, rough, and entirely unimpressed. You looked up instantly, irritation flashing through you before embarrassment had the chance to settle in properly. The man standing in front of you looked nothing like the guests downstairs. He was taller than almost everyone you had spoken to that evening, broad shoulders outlined beneath dark clothing that looked practical instead of fashionable, with sharp eyes fixed on you in obvious annoyance rather than forced politeness. Faint stubble shadowed his jaw while strands of silver threaded subtly through his hair near his temples, and there was something about him that felt harsher than the carefully polished people crowding your fatherâs parties downstairs. Dangerous, maybe. Or perhaps simply honest in a way most wealthy men were not. Either way, he looked at you like you had personally inconvenienced him. âYou were standing in the middle of the hallway,â you replied coldly while pulling your arm from his grip. âIt was kind of difficult to avoid you.â
His gaze moved over you once, slow and completely unimpressed. âThen maybe pay attention next time.â The harshness in his tone caught you off guard because people rarely spoke to you that way, especially not inside your fatherâs house where most guests either tried too hard to impress you or avoided offending you entirely. This man looked like he could not possibly care less about either. Something about that irritated you instantly. âMaybe move next time.â you shot back. One corner of his mouth twitched slightly, though it looked more sarcastic than amused. âYeah,â he muttered. âYou definitely sound like a rich kid.â Your expression hardened immediately. âAnd you sound incredibly rude.â He leaned casually against the wall beside him, completely relaxed despite the tension beginning to sharpen between you.
âOccupational hazard.â
You opened your mouth to respond again when another voice interrupted sharply from further down the hallway.
âThere you are.â
Your father approached quickly, relief crossing his face almost immediately when he noticed who you were standing beside. âIâm so glad you finally met Ben.â You blinked once in confusion.
Ben.
Before you had the chance to process the name properly, your father rested a hand against your shoulder and continued speaking casually.
âBen will be keeping you safe for a while until I have some business matters sorted.â For several seconds all you could do was stare at him while embarrassment flooded through your chest so quickly it felt physical. A bodyguard. The man you had just argued with was apparently your bodyguard. Perfect. Beside you, Ben looked amused enough that you caught the faintest smirk tugging briefly at the corner of his mouth before he looked away again, like he already found the entire interaction entertaining. âI can protect myself.â you said tightly. Ben finally spoke again then, his voice dry enough to scrape directly against your nerves. âBased on what Iâve seen so far, probably not.â
Your eyes snapped toward him instantly while your father laughed lightly, completely unaware of how badly you wanted the floor beneath you to split open from humiliation.
âYouâll get along eventually,â your father said distractedly before turning toward Ben again. âExcuse us for a moment because there are people downstairs asking for introductions.â Ben nodded once. âOf course.â Then his gaze shifted back toward you briefly beneath the soft hallway lighting before he stepped aside to let both of you pass, his expression unreadable except for the unmistakable judgment sitting quietly behind it.
Cold.
Dismissive.
Like he had already figured you out completely within the span of five minutes, and standing there inside the same mansion everyone else envied from the outside, you realized with growing irritation that Ben saw you exactly the way the rest of Manhattan probably did. Spoiled. Privileged. Blind to the blood stained reality funding every luxurious detail surrounding your life. The worst part was knowing you could not entirely blame him for believing it because from the outside looking in, your family had spent years making sure the lie looked flawless.
By the time you returned downstairs, the party had somehow grown even louder and more suffocating than before, the atmosphere inside the house thickening beneath layers of expensive perfume, aged whiskey, low conversation, and laughter that sounded rehearsed the longer you listened to it. The entrance hall had become overcrowded with people drifting effortlessly between rooms carrying crystal glasses and perfectly practiced smiles while waiters moved carefully through the crowd balancing silver trays beneath chandeliers large enough to flood every polished surface in golden light. Somewhere near the piano room, a woman laughed too sharply at something a politician had said, the sound briefly cutting through the endless hum of conversation before dissolving back into the noise surrounding it, followed immediately by the clinking of glasses and another wave of empty praise exchanged between people who treated wealth like both entertainment and power.
Usually you could survive nights like this without issue because you had spent your entire life learning exactly how to move through rooms filled with influential people without ever truly engaging with any of them, but tonight something felt entirely different in a way you could not properly explain no matter how hard you tried to ignore it. Or maybe the difference simply had a name now.
Ben.
You hated how aware of him you suddenly were. Even while trying to focus on the conversations happening around you, you could still feel him somewhere nearby like an unwanted pressure sitting against the back of your neck, the constant awareness of someone observing too closely. Every time you moved between rooms, every time another guest stopped you for conversation, every time you forced yourself to smile politely at another joke you did not care enough to actually listen to, there remained a part of you painfully conscious of the fact that somewhere inside the house, Ben was watching. Not because he cared. That somehow would have been easier to tolerate. No, Ben watched you the way someone studied a situation they had already decided they disliked, cold and detached and entirely convinced he understood exactly what kind of person you were before you had even spoken more than a few sentences to him. You could practically see the assumptions sitting behind his eyes every time he looked at you. Spoiled. Sheltered. Another rich girl floating comfortably through a life funded by blood stained money without ever questioning where any of it came from.
The thought irritated you enough that by the time another older businessman stopped you near the dining room to begin an exhausting conversation about âfamily legacyâ and investment opportunities, your patience had almost completely disappeared.
âYou must feel incredibly lucky,â the man remarked while slowly swirling amber liquid around the bottom of his glass. âYour father built an extraordinary life for you.â You smiled automatically because years of conditioning made it impossible not to. âYes.â you answered softly while ignoring the bitterness rising quietly inside your chest.
Lucky.
The word echoed unpleasantly around your mind long after the conversation finally ended. By midnight, the house had become unbearably warm from the number of people crowded inside it, heat gathering beneath expensive fabrics and dim lighting until every room felt smaller than it actually was. Conversations overlapped endlessly while soft piano music drifted through the hallways in elegant melodies that somehow only made the entire evening feel more artificial, and eventually the pressure of pretending became too exhausting to tolerate any longer. So you began avoiding people. Not obviously enough for anyone to notice because disappearing entirely during one of your fatherâs events would immediately raise questions you had no interest in answering, but subtly enough that your conversations became shorter, your smiles less convincing, and your movements quicker between rooms. You lingered near doorways instead of standing in the center of crowds, excused yourself before anyone could trap you in another painfully long discussion, and avoided eye contact whenever possible.
Still, no matter where you went, you felt watched. At one point while crossing the ballroom, your eyes lifted instinctively toward the staircase overlooking the lower level, and there he was. Ben stood near the balcony rail above the crowd dressed entirely in black, broad shoulders outlined sharply beneath dim golden lighting while his gaze moved slowly across the room below with the kind of alertness that made him look entirely separate from everyone else surrounding him. Unlike the guests drifting carelessly through the house pretending nothing ugly existed beneath Manhattanâs wealthiest circles, Ben looked aware of everything, every movement, every entrance, every conversation hidden beneath lowered voices and expensive smiles. Then his eyes landed directly on you. Even from across the room, the weight of his stare felt heavy enough to stop you in place for half a second longer than necessary. There was absolutely nothing soft about the way he looked at you. No admiration. No curiosity. Only observation. Like he was still trying to determine whether you were genuinely naive or simply pretending to be. You looked away first, and somehow the realization irritated you immediately afterward.
Needing distance from both the crowd and the growing anxiety tightening steadily inside your chest, you moved through the ballroom toward the bar positioned near the west sitting room where the noise became slightly quieter beneath softer lighting. Crystal glasses lined the marble counter while one of the bartenders poured champagne for a group of women laughing nearby, and thankfully most people seemed too distracted by their own conversations to notice when you slipped quietly onto one of the empty stools near the far end. âFor once,â you murmured softly toward the bartender while resting one hand against the cool marble surface, âI would really appreciate something stronger than champagne.â The older man smiled knowingly before immediately reaching for a bottle without asking any further questions.
You exhaled slowly while waiting, finally allowing yourself a brief moment to breathe beneath the noise surrounding you. From this distance, the party almost looked beautiful in a detached sort of way, guests drifting through enormous rooms beneath chandelier light while music wrapped itself carefully around conversation like another decorative detail added to the evening. Everything looked effortless from the outside. Perfect. That had always been the problem with your family. Everything looked perfect from the outside. The bartender slid the glass toward you before moving away to help another guest, and you lifted it immediately, welcoming the sharp burn of whiskey against your throat more than you probably should have.
âHeâs getting desperate.â
The unfamiliar voice cut through the noise around you so suddenly that your attention shifted instinctively toward the partially closed doorway beside the bar leading into one of the smaller private sitting rooms. You could not see clearly inside from where you sat, only faint shadows moving beyond the narrow opening in the door, but something about the tone alone made cold unease settle heavily inside your stomach. âHeâs not desperate,â another man answered quietly from inside the room. âHeâs angry.â
âAngry men make mistakes.â You should have ignored the conversation. You should have looked away immediately and returned to the party before hearing something you were clearly never meant to hear. Instead you remained perfectly still. âHe already made mistakes,â the first voice continued. âThat revenge bullshit after his wife died cost him more money than anybody expected.â Your grip tightened automatically around the glass in your hand.
Wife.
Mother.
The room suddenly felt too warm again. âHeâs trying to recover it.â
âAnd dragging Manhattan into his mess while he does it.â A low scoff followed somewhere inside the room before the first voice spoke again. âThey already took his wife. You really think his daughter stays untouchable forever?â Your stomach dropped so violently it almost hurt. For a moment you genuinely thought you might be sick. The glass trembled slightly between your fingers while the words repeated themselves endlessly inside your head. They already took his wife. His daughter stays untouchable. You could barely breathe suddenly, not because you fully understood what they meant, but because somewhere deep down you already did. Your father had enemies. Of course he did. You had always known that much.
But hearing strangers discuss your motherâs death so casually, like it belonged in the same category as money, revenge, and business deals, made something inside your chest tighten so sharply it became painful. You stood abruptly before the men inside the room could continue speaking, pulse hammering violently against your ribs while panic spread through you faster than logic could catch up to it. The hallway outside the bar suddenly felt too narrow. The music too loud. The people too close. You needed air. Distance. Anything. Your heels struck sharply against polished floors while voices blurred together around you, guests turning slightly as you passed through the crowd faster than before, though you barely noticed any of them because the only thing repeating inside your head was that sentence.
They already took his wife.
Your mother.
Your chest tightened harder.
Had she really been killed?
Not an accident.
Not random.
Killed.
The thought alone made nausea twist violently inside your stomach. You reached the staircase almost too quickly, gripping the banister harder than necessary while moving upward toward the quieter second floor, desperate to escape the suffocating noise downstairs before your breathing completely lost control. You barely noticed him until you nearly collided with him again. Ben stepped aside instantly at the top of the staircase, his eyes narrowing the second he properly saw your face, and for the first time since meeting him earlier that evening, his expression shifted completely. Not softer. But sharper. Alert in a way that immediately made it obvious he noticed far more than most people did. You tried moving past him immediately without speaking, but his voice stopped you halfway down the hallway. âWhat happened?â You kept walking. âNothing.â The word came out too quickly, too strained to sound convincing. Behind you, footsteps followed almost immediately. You should not have been surprised. âI donât think thatâs true.â The sound of his voice closer behind you only made your pulse spike harder because suddenly the entire house felt wrong in a way it never had before, every hallway colder, every shadow heavier. You reached the far end of the corridor near the library before stopping abruptly beside one of the enormous windows overlooking the front grounds, gripping the edge of the windowsill tightly while trying to steady your breathing without humiliating yourself completely in front of him.
Outside, black cars still lined the driveway while lights glowed softly across the estate grounds, everything appearing painfully normal despite the chaos unraveling violently inside your head. Ben stopped several feet behind you. For a moment neither of you spoke. Then quietly, âWhat did you hear?â Your eyes closed briefly. Of course he knew. People like Ben noticed everything.
âI didnât hear anything.â you answered automatically. âRight.â The sarcasm in his voice sounded quieter now, less mocking than before. You turned sharply toward him then, anger finally breaking through the panic flooding your chest. âWhy does everyone keep acting like Iâm incapable of understanding things?â Benâs expression remained unreadable. âDepends what things youâre talking about.â
âMy mother.â The words escaped before you could stop them. Something shifted almost imperceptibly across his face at the mention of her. You swallowed hard against the sickness still twisting violently inside you.
âI heard people downstairs talking about her,â you continued quietly, your voice unsteady despite how hard you tried controlling it. âTalking about revenge and money and-â You stopped abruptly because saying the words aloud suddenly made them feel horrifyingly real. Ben watched you carefully for several long seconds before finally speaking. âYou shouldnât listen to conversations that arenât meant for you.â The response instantly made anger flare through the panic. âThatâs your advice?â
âMy advice,â he answered calmly, âis to stop wandering around this house alone while your fatherâs business falls apart around him.â The words hit harder than they probably should have. Your fatherâs business falls apart. So it was true. Something really was happening. You stared at him, searching desperately for answers he clearly had no intention of giving you. âYou know something.â His jaw tightened slightly. âI know enough.â
âAbout my mother?â
Silence. That silence told you more than any answer possibly could have. Cold dread settled heavily inside your stomach. Ben looked briefly toward the staircase before returning his attention to you again, and for the first time all evening he seemed less irritated by your presence and more concerned by your reaction.
âYou need to calm down.â The statement almost made you laugh. âCalm down?â you repeated softly in disbelief. âYou expect me to calm down after hearing people talk about my mother like she was some kind of warning?â His expression hardened slightly again. âThis isnât the place for this conversation.â
âThen where is?â Another silence stretched painfully between you while downstairs music continued drifting faintly upward through the mansion and laughter echoed somewhere below, completely detached from the tension thickening inside the hallway around both of you.
Finally Ben stepped closer, not enough to touch you, but enough that his presence suddenly felt impossible to ignore. âYou really donât know anything, do you?â The question landed somewhere deep enough to hurt because no, you didnât. Your father had spent years keeping you carefully separated from every ugly part of the family business while simultaneously trapping you inside it, protecting you from truths you were apparently old enough to become collateral damage for but not old enough to actually understand. And standing there beneath dim golden lighting while panic and confusion twisted violently inside your chest, you realized how humiliating that truly was. Ben studied your expression for another second before exhaling quietly through his nose. Then his voice lowered. âGo to your room and stay there until your father finishes downstairs.â The order immediately reignited your frustration. âYou donât get to tell me what to do.â
âNo,â he replied evenly, âbut your father is paying me to keep you alive, which gets significantly harder when you start overhearing conversations from people who absolutely do not care whether youâre standing nearby.â The bluntness of the statement stole the remaining breath from your lungs. Keep you alive. Not safe. Alive. The distinction mattered far too much. You stared at him while the reality of the night finally settled heavily around you piece by piece, and suddenly the mansion no longer felt elegant or familiar beneath the warm lighting and expensive decor. It felt dangerous.
And somehow the most unsettling part of all was realizing Ben had known that from the moment he walked through the front doors.
Part 2
A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed this one! Pls lmk if you like to be added to the taglist for this fic or my permanent taglist for all of my fics!!!
photographer!rafe was one of the best trained photographers to come out of his school. teachers loved him because he was punctual and always wanted to go the extra mile to be better and thatâs why they gave him the work experience of taking moviestar!reader promo shots!
moviestar!reader who quickly mesmerised photographer!rafe when you marched onto set screaming at your manager. stilettos clicked ruthlessly against the ground as you walked across the set letting the cameras catch a blur of you; not even caring about the shots you mightâve ruined but in photographer!rafeâs opinion the pictures would look much better that way.
during the shoot photographer!rafe stared bashfully through the detailed lens. mentally preying on each curve and dimple that you sported, often having to get screamed at by his manager. heâd scratch his head looking all star struck before getting snapped out of his daze with a frantic hand waving infront of him.
you laughed at his shy appearance; teasing his thin gold rims and inability to hold eye contact or a conversation but photographer!rafe didnât mind in the slightest. heâd give a soft âyeahâ in response just to see you laugh.
it was clear he had some sort of degradation kink because he never retaliated. maybe it was because photographer!rafe replayed each remark in his head when he was drifting off to sleep. smiling like a teenager about a girl that asked his name every time she saw him.
photographer!rafe who called your manager asking for your number under the guise of needing to revise what photos were best to use. of course your manager declined but after a few jokes about your pickiness which made him feel sick to say he got it.
photographer!rafe paced around his kitchen, counter decorated with your magazine shots wondering if he could build up the strength to call you. eventually he did after some moral support from a fellow photographer nerd with the advice of âif it gets awkward you can always hide from her when the shoots over.â
the conversation with moviestar!reader wasnât as difficult as he thought itâd beâ sure he stuttered for majority of it and as hard as he tried couldnât avert his eyes from your lips or your cleavage but nonetheless better than what he expected.
for you photographer!rafe was amusing. the slight quiver in his lip when you told him your eyes were higher than where he was looking, the profuse apologies that flooded out making him more nervous. after the teasing was over photographer!rafe noticed that talking to you was the one time his brain wasnât flooded with a million words and pre-anticipated answers.
when the topic finally came back to the photos photographer!rafe was useless when it came to deciding which ones were best for the front page. for anyone else the statement âyou look beautiful in all of themâ wouldâve been something moviestar!reader rolled her eyes at but coming from photographer!rafe it settled more heartfelt with her.
moviestar!reader was utterly stunned when photographer!rafe came in the nexts day with a beautiful collage of all of the photos complied together. so beautiful that as soon as she saw them photographer!rafe had lipliner smudged onto the side of his cheek and hundreds of compliments about the sheer creativity rushing his way.
if it was up to him he would never wash it again.
moviestar!reader who started specifically requesting photographer!rafe for everything she did, wether it was a movie or another photoshoot because he simply knew her best. it got so bad that other crew members often described him as a puppy from the way it was nearly impossible to see him away from you and you.
moviestar!reader and photographer!rafe started hanging out outside of the work aspect of things. getting to know each other when everything wasnât so professional but then again the way you two joked (more so you) wasnât very professional anyway.
soon enough that cafe became your place to go, strangely where the two of you found out that you understood each other more than you thought. moviestar!reader who thought it would be a casually flirting thing. youâd lean close get him flustered maybe trace his fingers with your own thinking it would only affect him.
if it was so casual why did moviestar!reader start to become nervous of what she was doing; less touchy and definitely less talkative when photographer!rafe was around. she used to grant him monologues about a world that he wasnât in but had come to understand and now the best he could get was a unusually shy greeting.
photographer!rafe who was hoping he didnât score things up by never reciprocating anything. laying awake replaying every moment there was an opportunity and instead he froze up and turned red. cursing himself for being too awkward.
normally the two of you would have your breaks together but then he could never find you. little did he know moviestar!reader may have been absolutely was hiding in her stylists room complaining about his inability to get hints and asking if she was being delusional about this.
moviestar!readerâs stylist comforted her telling her she wasnât too much and the guy was too shy. that eased your tension for a bit but the thought was still lingering in the back of your mind. turns out your stylist was friends with one of the camera guys that photographer!rafe was always going to for advice and specs and asked him to put in a good word for moviestar!reader
photographer!rafe who came up with an idea on how to show you he was just a stuttering ball of nerves. so he spent some time creating what mightâve been his masterpiece.
moviestar!reader tried to be lowkey with her silent confusion to photographer!rafeâs newfound unavailability. thinking he must have found something or someone else to with his time.
it showed with how easily irritable you became, making you the hard to work with actor all over again.
photographer!rafe who was not at all busy with anything else but moviestar!reader and called her as soon as he had everything perfect asking her to come over.
moviestar!reader who was pissed at first, declining every call but never blocking him. when she finally did pick up he was quick to apologise and beg for forgiveness; telling
moviestar!reader that if it was the last the you did with him then he would leave you be.
the drive with photographer!rafe was quiet apart from your heavy sighs signifying he really messed up. the two of you stood outside of his apartment as he asked you to close your eyes.
photographer!rafe led you inside reminding you to be careful with every step you took. when he finally brought you to a halt and you were finally able to see again you were met with to most gorgeous canvas made. stepping closer to inspect it you saw candid's you didnt even notice being taken, cute pictures of the two of you together. one of some random walk the two of you went on, only seeing the DO NOT FEED THE DUCKS sign after finishing the whole loaf of bread.
you laughed softly at the memory turning back to see rafe with the most cliche confessions ever. a poster with a tick box yes or no to the question âwill you be my girlfriend?â
âi-i know that iâm not the best walker but i really like you and i was wonderingââ
âyes! yes!â you exclaimed, pulling him into a kiss to stop his rambling which he did not disagree with.
i saw this art and it did something lowkey strange to me......
1.5k
not proof read
.
.
.
maid!toji was only in this situation because of an assassination attempt gone wrong. standing at the foot of his new bed with a maid attire placed delicately on the sheets as if it would soften the shattering blow to his very evident masculinity.
âthatâs what those old hags were looking for.â he grumbles remembering how after he was caught old hags with measuring tape came into the makeshift cell and surrounded him noting every length that they could. saying some dumb shit about the clan heads daughters wishes and he knew it was you.
the not being dead yet confused him because the stories shui told him about how trigger happy the clan head was. shui ward him that the job he was offering was practically a suicide mission but maid!toji got too prideful. he laughed in his face and reminded him of how many times heâd been told this before and still deposited the lengthy checkâ even though he lost more than half to the races you get the point.
all he had to do was get in and kill the sack of skin and get out but no his mission became laughable in a matter of minutes.
.
.
maid!toji already made it onto the clans grounds and into the main building. the place was like a fucking maze and he didnât study those blueprints shui handed for shit. he gave it a quick glance the morning before and thought heâd be ok; couldnât even take a picture for a hint because the place had signal jammers surrounding it.
âfuckâ he gruntedâone of manyâ blade scoring the wooden planks below as he struggled to make sense of the layout. it was sharpened just so it could be a one and done, not making any sound as far as he knew but he was wrong. you were walking the hallways as you always did, making your daily rounds if you will.
and you heard it the faint yet continuous sound of creaking. most likely from the palace being slowly sliced by the brute wielding deathly steel. you slid into one of the nearby room not bothering to check its occupancy but waiting. waiting so you watch the foreigner walk by so you could investigateâ not for the clan but your own interests. his massive frame was marvellous and considering the weight he carried he treaded along lightly.
a small âpsstt!â came from his left side, sure itâs just a clan member doing whatever inside a room he continues forward; eyes closed trying to imagine the layout until everything goes black.
maid!toji finally comes to with a sharp exhale and roll of his neck. looming over him is the man he was sent to kill in all his cocky glory and his little followers crowded around him. he knew he couldnât move but that didnât stop him from trying to finish what he came for; he struggled against the binds that tightened as he moved. and the other men forced him to stay put. âfuck you.â he manages through heavy breaths.
the clan leader smiles in response reminiscing on how he caught him or how you alerted the clan guards of his arrival. âthe fact you got around my security means youâll be talent wastedâŠâ he pauses looking between his advisors and with the wave of his fingers heâs lifted from the floor and escorted out.
he doesnât go willingly no he screams obscenities that the women and children should have to be shielded from and. but you, this lurking predator that saunters past him and back into the room with a devilish smile. nightmarish shouts flood his thick voice once again through out his journey to the private cells before he is eventually gagged.
you went into the room pleading with your father to keep him and though he was skeptical the soldier may prove useful for other things.
like doing his daughters bidding.
it was such luck he planned the assassination just 3 days before you were to travel outside the extremely claustrophobic grounds.
the duration of the time you spent getting to know your new bodyguard, though he couldnât really speak you established a nodding system for a yes or no. you could feel his not so silent begs and constant thrashing for the gag to be removed but you only met those please with a deliberate and unhurried swipe over his bottom lip and a breathy âaww i wish baby.â
and every time he couldnât help that slow blink at your touch, maybe even the occasional hushed moan through the gag that made you force your thighs closed from their subconscious opening.
it was going to be his last night in here and it unexpectedly made you sad that you wouldnât see him so pathetic any longer. âso fucking pretty arenât you.â you cooed, in response he turned his head feeling his cheeks burn with a furious heat. âcâmon mister,â you sighed hand forcing his face back, âgive me a smile and iâll give you a minute of free speech.â
his sharp eyes locked in on yours and he mustered up the biggest one he could; wincing in pain from the limited movement. âgood boyyy.â you praised bringing your hands to undo the straps laced at the back of his head.
a broken exhale fills your ears as it falls down into your hands and his eyes flutter open. he stretches his jaw readjusting to his new found freedom not even taking notice of your admiring gaze. âam i gonna hear your voice mister? maybe even learn your name?â your tone is hopeful and it settles weirdly in his chest, like he wants to listen to what you say. maybe your ceaseless talking rewired his brain somehow.
âtojiâ he awnsers with his gravelly voice obviously hoarse from the lack of use. âthen iâll call you âji hmm?â he gave a slow nod in response.
.
.
that was the night before when he didnât know how much you got off on treating him like he was a baby maybe even a girl.
ââm not fucking wearing this shit.â he growled turning back to see your smug grin, hands hidden behind your back holding something he feels like he doesnât want to see. âyouâd look so cute for me!â you beamed as your voice ran saccharine through his head.
he was actually considering itâ no he wasnât. heâs toji the guy thatâs been killing sorcerers for years. thereâs nothing stopping him from turning around and choking you you it right⊠right? this was supposed to be he last mission for a long time and now it feels like heâs just getting started. god when was this fucking nightmare gonna be over.
âso?â you drawled, inching closer until your hand was splayed out on his back subtly encouraging him. âdâya wanna clean in a little skirt or take your chances with the guards outside?â
maid!toji who begrudgingly accepts your little ultimatum and wears the skimpy outfit when preforming his maid like duties.
itâs like the roles reversed because instead of him being the perverted old man making you shy away from him it was maid!toji that jumped at every time the two of you made contact of any kind. and more than often it was you initiating it.
itâs been weeks since this whole ordeal yet could feel your eyes burning through the humiliating outfit whenever he found himself in a compromising position like it was fresh. âyouâre sick.â heâd growl not even knowing if you were truly there but that looming presence was unforgettable. âcan a girl not admire her work now? after all it was me making sure it looked soâŠinviting.â
âsick and depraved.â he reiterated, âjust for you âji!â this wasnât the first of your declarations and it would be the last. it was the opposite of anything romantic it was twisted and lustful and seemingly never ending. âyou could leave at anytime, i know it and so do you.â he shakes his head as if it discredits what youâve said. you move closer like you always did but this time it feels like all the tension and suspense that has been piling may finally feel some sort of relief.
your mouth is next to his ear now, words taunting him worse than ever. âiâll be in my room mister fushiguro,â you plant a kiss underneath his ear before retreating and toji shivers at the loss of warmth.
.
.
toji enters your room with a heavy exhale, like you forced his legs to walk up the stairs and to the farthest room in the building.
youâd already changed into a teal robe one that proved no use if it was so see through. sat at the edge of the laid sheets with a smirk even he couldnât replicate. âi called⊠you came.â you pause hand lifting to toy with the hem of the fabric. you let out a light chuckle before resuming, âits like you want me like i you.â you tut tugging him closer and looking up at him with eyes that forced his on yours.
he doesnât reply. just moves as you want him until heâs already standing right infront of you. itâs a relentless internal battle that forces his mouth shut. makes him unable to share his words.
summary: where princess!reader battles the trouble of being derelict in her royal duties (marrying a man of nobility) and trying her hardest to maintain a friendship the was never bound to remain one
a/n : repost
âyou use me.â satoru whispers eyes burning holes into the dark oak before him but all other senses focused on your presence around the room. you laugh lightly, fingertips drifting over book spines as you step inside. it figures heâd know it was you seeing as no one else ever came close to the shunned room. âfor books in my own library?â you tease.
âyou know i yearn for you yet you turn your head at my every declaration,â the words tumbled out. a heavy sigh following them, âyou think of me lowlyâŠ?â
you brows knit, concern laced between them âof course not. why would you ever utter such words?â you inch closer to the desk; hand just about to lay atop his until it is quickly drawn back âyou do!â he bursts out. salty signals of emotion run from those impossibly blue eyes. âbecause you are royalty and i am nothing but the one who mans your affinity for ink meeting paper.â
âyou are not nothing.â
âi am sorry my princess but i render that disputable.â
âi treat you nothing of the sort.â
âyou treat me nothing regardless!â he snaps, you blink back at his vexed tone and soon enough he realises his mistake and cowers back into himself. âapologies your majesty. i do not mean to appear so disgruntled with my words.â he bows and your heart aches.
âthat is how you will address me now? after having such affliction to the words?â youâre sure your voice betrayed you many times in that sentence but refusing to let the tears blurring your vision drop was on the forefront of your mind.
°â.àłàż*
you first met satoru three years back when he was simply a frosty haired boy that sat in your boundless garden. behind the flowering shrubs and castle guards peering eyes pen in hand and a leather bound notebook that looked just about ready to wither away but he clearly wasnât prepared to let go. youâd wandered off on another attempted adventure but upon the sounds of marching knights youâd quickly run to hiding spot that apparently was not your own anymore.
satoru quickly clutched his book to himself at the shadow approaching; taking a quick glance at royal before him and forcing his eyes back to the sharp blades below. âi do not wish to see what you write only to be awarded my place of refuge.â
âwell i would have refused your greed ridden eyes anyway.â he huffs trying to stand but the small space and your towering figure forced him to stay seated. âgreed ridden?â you shriek and he actually contemplates putting a hand over your mouth so he wouldn't be reprimanded but your reaction was unpredictable at the time. âmy eyes are suited to fine arts not whatever incessant rambling youâve put to that undeserving page.â
instead of dignifying you with a witty response he stands tall giving you a final glare and marching back to the castle.
he just walked away from you.
a random boy not even meant to step foot on palace grounds just walked away from you.
a random commoner boy that you had the power to get beheaded just walked away from you.
you were quick to run after him ready to give him another piece of your mind and force him to take it because youâre royalty. but all the plans you made simply wafted away, the diatribe you were ready to launch at him died right in your throat because you saw him hugging a maid.
comforting one another though no tears flushed either ones face. youâd never hugged anyone except to give them that fleeting show of comfort and seeing this made you feel sick. like you had an obligation to fulfil that was never meant to be yours.
the absolute stranger called empathy that youâd never asked to meet came over you; pushing your feet to meet the pathway to your quarters. immediately flopping onto the comforting italian sheets. royals werenât meant to feel bad about things itâs been your example to conduct yourself so why did you feel differently now.
it felt like awakening something that was meant to sleep indefinitely within you because youâve never seen a glimpse of it in anyone else. not when your mother made a fit at the dinner table, sending the expensive imported fruits and cheeses onto the hardwood floor. glaring daggers into the servants then screeching for them to âclean their messâ. that malevolent glint in her eyes when she knew that no one could object.
not when your eldest sister had her difficult modiste appointments, belittling every adjustment and refusing to cooperate. squealing at the final look and not even gifting a small smile to the seamstress. just leaving the small shop with her chin held high hand in hand with your mother. theyâd shout for you to cease dawdling and make haste but it was only because you were complimenting her immaculate stitches though you nothing about them for a reason unknown to you.
so with the overwhelming feeling to do something for the boy in which you had no obligations to. you stood and searched those vast bookshelves of yours for that notebook youâd never used. gifted from the duke of somewhere a cerulean leather shrouded the neatly lined paper after finding out you were fond of reading.
as if you would ever have the want to write?
anyway as a peaceful offering you searched the castle for him and which wouldnât much hard with the rarity of the features he sported. except he had an exceptional talent for hiding which you shouldâve expected since he had found yours.
searching everyone room and place youâd even considered hiding with a sigh you pulled open the doors to the dining hall. peeking inside you caught sight of the woman from earlier you stepped in fully. âmy princess is there something that you need?â she rushed over voice panicked whilst you simply scanned the room. âall is well miss..?â
her face was struck with confusion, why would you want to know her name. were you reporting her? would she lose the work that she fought so hard for?
you laughed lightly at the exceeding pause âi did not know giving your name would be such a heinous act.â
âof course not your majesty.â she hesitated clutching the broom tighter.â âgojoâ. the book slipped to one hand as you offered the other to her. âit is wonderful to meet you miss gojo⊠the boy you were with earlier, your son?â
âoh goodness he doesnât mean to get in trouble your majesty. heâs learning the ways of the palace and i promise heâll learn quick.â she blurts practically ready to fall to her knees. âi- itâs fine. i am not here to chastise though he may deserve it.â and yet again the tone you took for playful fell on scared ears. ears that were prepared to hear the worst in whatever you said.
âiâm sorry my princess itâs just my nephew wanted so badly to visit the palace i never knew heâd bother you.â the book shifted to one hand as you lowered the other to meet hers. âyou mistake me for the queen, i have no ill intent just⊠a gift.â she lets her hand fall lose in yours finally meeting relief. âa gift? have the two of you made friends oh his mother would be so proud!â she exclaims the jittery and shy demeanour she once held fractured now housing an overly excited âhe likes to linger around that old library if thatâs any aid your majesty. i hope the two of you become best of friends if thats alright.â
giving her hand a small squeeze you saunter back into the hallways feeling somewhat excited which was strange.
you'd barely ever felt this way when meeting another princess a or a daughter of a family highly favoured in your mothers eyes that you âjust had to meet her!â. but all the conversation ever amounted to was how lovely the sky looked that morning and what new stitch theyâd learnt with their embroidery class. topics that you could barely add to so you sat shrinking into yourself wondering when you'd just get the courage to just say the right thing and not make a fool of yourself in front of them.
the thought alone is enough to make you overthink your upcoming interaction, you wouldn't be able to stomach it if he refused it because of how the last one went. maybe he'd think you were no different from your family and be reluctant to even respond.
god why did you get yourself worked up like this. now you stand infront of the wooden door unprepared yet ready to put on the best brave face you could.
-
âfor you.â you said pushing the book towards him. you wouldnât have seen him because heâd chosen to sit in the darkest corner of the room, in fact the only thing that told you of his presence was the loud turning of pages. âhave you laced the pages with some sort of poison?â he scoffs eyeing it with precision meant for the men's hunting groups or something of the sort.
âwould you just take the peace offering...please.â
and he did begrudgingly but it was obvious how he fought to hide a smile. and it was even more obvious when he moved over to let you sit and see what he was reading, something you already had before but that didnât stop him from articulating every single thought he had about it.
°â.àłàż*
you step around the desk releasing a sound of disbelief. your hand instinctively raises to his porcelain cheek. âtoru where does this come from.â he immediately recoils from your touch stepping backwards until his heel meets the wall. âsatoru, your majesty. people in this castle whisper, servants overhear and relay to the likes of me.â
âthe likes of meâ he always spoke so negatively of himself when upset making you feel horrible in turn. his soft eyes that once followed your every movement now refused you being in their lens.
âiâm not understanding, has someone rumoured somethââ
âit was not a rumour but a truth you refused to speak aloud. you are to be wed to the prince of spain are you not!â
âi- i have not yet decided.â you sputter. sure your family encouraged the union but in no way were they forcing you, not with the many calling cards theyâd been given.
insignificant little pieces of paper that acted in place of an actual introduction. theyâd preform their whole bowing ordeal then without a word hand the card to your mother and walk off.
âso it is true.â it wasnât a question, it was a sentence meant to end the friendship that you held. to give closure to him but his own words caused him greater pain than anything else. âi think you should take your leave your majesty. i have organising to do thatâll take silence.â
âare you telling me i talk to much.â
âi am telling you iâd like you to leave.â
without objection you pick up the unnecessarily huge gown and walk out of the now suffocating room. every inch of the palace was drenched in velvety redâs and luxurious goldâs. to a visitor it was splendid, on a bad day itâs an eye sore that makes you want to run to your chambers and scream into your pillows until you randomly awoke the next day.
though your nails werenât that sharp they still tore small holes in the lace you held as if it were grounding. your stomping around the castle must have been heard because your younger sisters voice calls your name.
âwhat has got you walking like a man.â rolling your eyes you turn to her finally letting the abused gown rest at your sides. âthere was no beast you could compare me to? only that of a man?â she laughs as you sigh walking towards you. a teal dress with floras stitched into the lace finally comes into frame.
âtea?â she proposes, âso you can tell me all your worries and iâll promise not to tell mother or our eldest.â you hook arms with her now walking side by side. âyou know iâd never drink that murky excuse for a beverage⊠but iâd settle for hot cocoa.â
âthen so be it, we shall sit and chat over tea and hot cocoa.â she beams leading you to the drawing room.
°â.àłàż*
âit seems to me your recent upset may be the fault of a certain spaniard?â her pinkie raises as she sips from the decorated teacup.
she'd sat in on every one of his calls, stifling laughs at his weak attempts at flirting and at your so called amusing evidently confused face when he'd tried to show any sort of affection. your mother often whisper shouted at her antics to no avail because you would start trying to hide a smile beneath a gloved hand only resulting in an eruption of laughter causing the prince to chuckle awkwardly opposite you.
âdo you not like him? you make it so obvious iâm surprised he hasn't left you to your devices already.â you exhale softly unsure of how to awnser to the impossible. âit is not that i donât like himââ
âmother says she expects heâs giving you a proposal soon. will you accept?â
âand move my whole life the country whoâs language i couldnât care to know? and must you cut my words short.â she giggles placing a hand on your thigh, âiâm truly sorry but might i find solace in the fact my very own sister may become a princess.â
âno you may not.â maybe your finally understanding the ramifications of the union. youâd leave the only family you know, the only buildings youâd ever actually bothered to learn. and worst of all youâd be blatantly picking him over your currently distant friend satoru. âit would never work. he is far too him and i am far too me.â she fiddles with the embroidery already awaiting your disproval. âmaybe.â she whispers, âand just! maybe. the two of you could learn how to be enough for one another.â
you straighten taking tentative sips, the graceful way you once held the china was now corrupted by the stiffest grip of all. âi take no interest in trying to be enough for him.â you mumble trying to find anything else in the smothering room. this is not the first time nor the last sheâs portrayed a prying eye in your relationships and unfortunately she refuses to take no for an answer. the only time you'd find a glimpse of respite is in the library.
with he who shall not be named as of now.
with his ridiculous way with words. with how tedious ways of making sure every book laid perfectly though it made you laugh like never before or the absurd softening of his eyes whenever you were together.
a softening you could not replicate because you did not know how are a noble woman and should not be playing silly games with someone of a different class. someone your family would definitely refuse.
âit is as if you are not interested.â she chimes setting down the cup and looking at you.
really looking at you.
it makes you feel naked like with the intense examination she stared with you couldn't hold the secrets you buried within. perhaps youâd falsify a sickness before she asks a question. though she would quickly dispute that and cause a fit for your âwithholding of salient knowledgeâ.
âmaybe i am not.â you manage; voice abandoning its presumed confident tone shifting into that of a feeble squeak. âexcuse me?â she gasps, âthen i couldn't possibly fathom whom is making you so detached from reality.â
then finally she squeals as if sheâs deciphered something standing up to pace like a madman. âsurely you have some sort of lover that youâve hidden outside castle wallsââ
âno i do not.â you grit.
âit explains why youâre never seen around the palace. but of course you always hide yourself in that airless library with that very strange boyâ of which i am still confused as to why he took your offering of manning it when there is no one but you in there..â her words trail off eyes widening in realization that you refused to match.
âtell me it is not true sister. tell me my mind has run loose and i am grasping at ideas we should bear not the thought of.â
your lack of defence is what proves her thesis true and she chcukles to your surprise. âiâm sure you would have had choice of the world yet your fancies lay on a royal book manager.â
summary: toji was supposed to stay an unshakeable and unsociable person but you come by threatening to change his assigned destiny
song recs: vanilla sky. wrong faces. butterflies. peter pan. by brent faiyaz things and such by PND art of war by avenoir breathe by malcom todd trillions by alicia keys & brent faiyaz
part 1
leading you up the stairs tojiâs his grip was surprisingly soft considering the scowl on his face. well you couldnât see it directly because he was making sure to hide it from you but with how tense he was walking (stomping like the stairs had very personally offended him on his way up) it was obvious.
silence gave you time to look at the pictures decorating the walls. surprisingly it wasnât something youâd thought to do before because seeing a real time glare seemed more important thanâ âbaby toji in a pumpkin patch!?!â you squealed already untangling yourself from him and running back.
toji doesnât hear you properly, thinking itâs something random youâll get distracted by and then leave alone in a minute or so. but he remembers the what might be the most embarrassing thing for you to see is hung up right there. âw-wait fuck donât look at it.â with anyone else he could brush it off and leave it there. but not you when most of your compliments were how he was so un-baby like if thatâs even a thing.
how big his arms were, how he looked so strong. it was probably just things you said to see if you could make him flustered or something but now heâs hearing you coo over his younger self and itâs making him want to hide in a different kind of embarrassment.
to you it was the cutest thing ever. his face was so chubby and cute back then; nothing like how defined it was now but you werenât complaining. you spot megumi in his mothers arms and if you didnât know any better youâd think they were identical, same long raven black hair and tired eyes that would make the adult trying to befriend them cry.
âbut this is sooo cuteee.â you sing pointing at it like youâre trying to enter it.
âitâs not,â he huffs trying to change your course to his room again. letâs just say it took way longer than expected for the two of you to make it inside, and by the time you were finished doting on his younger self his face felt like it was on fire and looked a searing red. maybe it was whatever that was in your cup that made you so oblivious to his very visible reaction but you carried on like nothing happened at all.
tojiâs room isnât the stark white hospital prison that you thought it would be. instead itâs painted a dark navy blue; not something you wouldâve expected but it was very him regardless. âsooo,â you start eyes quickly exploring the space, darting to his desk thatâs decorated with textbooks and pens. âthis mean you ready to express your undying love for me?â you tease dragging a hand down his chest painfully slow.
âstop reading into everything.â he grumbled eyes staring at your hand trailing before so cruelly leaving him. âcanât blame me. i thought iâd never get an invite to your house let alone your room.â he stares at you wandering for a moment, watching every movement you made thinking about how everything about one person could be so impulsive yet graceful.
but you werenât supposed to be someone he thought about like this so he shakes his head free of the thought and resumes his usual stoic demeanour. âiâm pretty sure you wouldâve followed me home anyway.â he states matter of factly like you were actually that weird. which is crazy because he definitely didnât start tagging along with yuji to the very prestigious fushiguro house just to catch a glimpse of him before he sulked back into his cave. and you absolutely did not spend your time walking past his room 20 or so times until you got scared because he was his face got so angry when annoyed.
or when his mother offered you dinner and you quickly refused because you werenât sure what youâd say or do if he was sitting opposite you.
âdonât insult me when iâm trying to be kind.â you chime, already setting your eyes on the rest of the room. who knew he was such a spider-man fan? posters, the biggest lego figure youâd ever seen. you pointed at it wordlessly smile playing on your face as per usual. he stutters before falling silent and this might be the shyest toji has been in his life at this point.
âyou made that?â examining the details toji instinctively flinches as you move closer. he doesnât respond, not because of arrogance but he couldnât figure out what he could say without sounding too desperate or too indifferent.
why did talking to people have to be so difficult?
he shakes his head and moves toward the tv opposite his bed. scrolling through movies though he knows heâll watch the same one as he did last night, and the night before, and the night before that. the previews almost muffle your never ending questions that for some reason he just couldnât answer.
âwhereâs that from?â he groans.
âhow long did that take?â he rolls his eyes.
âwhy would you get that?â and you were talking about a collectors spider-man comic that he spent three weeks in a bidding war for. surprisingly he has no intention of telling you to shut up or giving you a mean remark like he was used to. instead heâs already steering you back to his bed and âMARVELâ is appearing on the screen before you and heâs practically ordering you to stay focused on it like heâll quiz you on it after.
.
.
its been 20 minutes. 20 minutes and you were already sleeping, curled into yourself like you were freezing which couldnât be possible because he felt like he was in a sauna. he slipped away when you started asking questions already knowing youâd be to stubborn to tell him you were cold.
like the times you sat in the library with him, tank top and a mini skirt that no one could survive in but somehow you did. hugging yourself whilst you looked pissed until he offered you his hoodie, then you were smiling and laughing at the fact he had to hide his face in his hands because he turned red so quickly. embarrassing how words alone so quickly became his undoing and worst of all he couldnât control it to save his life.
mourning the loss of conversation that he wanted to have he stared longer than he shouldâve, contemplating if waking you up was the best option. giving up the bed was the most gentlemanly thing to do plus heâs slept at his desk hundreds of times.
heâs about to get up he swears! just.. maybe till he finishes the movie because itâs his favourite and not because having you next to him whilst his mind wasnât thinking about every possible situation felt better than it shouldâve. comfort.
thatâs it, comfort.
the movie is less interesting nowâ something toji would never say in his life. the sounds of webs shooting and mystical humming that used to radiate off the walls and provide sweet solace to him every time he hit play. but it was lost to the back of his mind when your rhythmic breathing was right next to him.
you shifted in your sleep a lot which was news to toji, he imagined youâd be one to lay back with your hands delicately laid across your stomach. of course you would sleep perfectly when everything you did was. of course he moved each time. accommodating for each new piece of mattress you chose to conquer next, slowly easing him out of his own space.
.
.
the sun that streaked through the room forced you to open your eyes. one leg pendulous off the side of the bed. dress ridden halfway up your body. and this was definitely not your room. you standâwith a lot of internal motivation neededâ and make your way down the steps you were trying to not get closely acquainted with.
you can hear a pan hit another, a splatter and clearly irritated sigh. tojiâs eyes flick to you as the wood creaks, eyes squinting at the lights and your hands drag down your face in protest. âi donât think anyone thatâs normal is cooking this early.â you groan. âitâs not early.â the words are clipped probably because heâs been at this stupid recipe for an hour.
âyou went to class without me?â you shriek memories of your history professor goading you about your attendance. âi didnât go.â curt yet in his own way kind. âyou mean you sacrificed your 100% attendance for me?â the smile you wore was almost enough to make him smile. almost.
âi waited because iâve never seen you hungover,â he pauses pouring different things into a mixer, âmaybe you become deranged and commit arson.â
âyou have a horrible way with words toji.â
he doesnât look up, only replays what you said whilst telling his brain not to think about it.he wasn't much of one to start up a conversation and especially with you. for someone that found a 10,000 word minimum essays easy heâd always end up going silent, staring into the distance because maybe with enough determination he could just dr strange himself out of there.
heâd hoped that he could get his point across in other ways. when he wasâin his mindâstaring at you through a reflection on the glass because why wouldnât you. or when he saw you in the hallways and looked like he was about to start a conversation before his eyes immediately ran from yours and suddenly it was like he never saw you in the first place.
you said it was him being shy as normal the last time it happened.
yuki walked beside you attention off her phone for a millisecond to catch what you were so captivated by; barking out the loudest laugh which more than likely scared him (however much a guy like to toji could be) from ever interacting with you again. being herself she brushed it off saying âthe only thing he cares about was getting all aâs, not some random girl laughing at him.â
âbut that random girl was next to me and he might think i was laughing as wellâ he might think im evil and trying to get with him as a jokeââ âbreatheeeee,â she interrupts as comforting as the most sarcastic person you know could be. âiâm pretty sure he wasnât even looking.â
âitâs easy to think that when you have not one empathetic bone in your body.â
toji walked away from that awkward ordeal and straight to the other most talkative person he knows, unfortunately.
yuji lies starfish on the bench table nobara and megumi on either side seemingly uncaring. âyuji.â he peeks up instantly finding the approaching voice. âfinally not embarrassed be seen with me?â
ânot in a million years.â
toji spends his time being laughed at by three idiot he should have never tried to consult, especially the one that he could easily murder in his sleep considering he was only next door. they gave advice that was too outgoing, like him going up to you and saying hi and complementing you. in what world is that not the worst way things could go.
âyou⊠you look nice.â
âno i donât.â he sounded like he was questioning himself and you shot back because you were sure. maybe context clues needed be his next lesson.
summary: toji was supposed to stay an unshakeable and unsociable person but you come by threatening to change his assigned destiny
song recs: vanilla sky. wrong faces. butterflies. peter pan. by brent faiyaz things and such by PND art of war by avenoir breathe by malcom todd trillions by alicia keys & brent faiyaz
part 1
leading you up the stairs tojiâs his grip was surprisingly soft considering the scowl on his face. well you couldnât see it directly because he was making sure to hide it from you but with how tense he was walking (stomping like the stairs had very personally offended him on his way up) it was obvious.
silence gave you time to look at the pictures decorating the walls. surprisingly it wasnât something youâd thought to do before because seeing a real time glare seemed more important thanâ âbaby toji in a pumpkin patch!?!â you squealed already untangling yourself from him and running back.
toji doesnât hear you properly, thinking itâs something random youâll get distracted by and then leave alone in a minute or so. but he remembers the what might be the most embarrassing thing for you to see is hung up right there. âw-wait fuck donât look at it.â with anyone else he could brush it off and leave it there. but not you when most of your compliments were how he was so un-baby like if thatâs even a thing.
how big his arms were, how he looked so strong. it was probably just things you said to see if you could make him flustered or something but now heâs hearing you coo over his younger self and itâs making him want to hide in a different kind of embarrassment.
to you it was the cutest thing ever. his face was so chubby and cute back then; nothing like how defined it was now but you werenât complaining. you spot megumi in his mothers arms and if you didnât know any better youâd think they were identical, same long raven black hair and tired eyes that would make the adult trying to befriend them cry.
âbut this is sooo cuteee.â you sing pointing at it like youâre trying to enter it.
âitâs not,â he huffs trying to change your course to his room again. letâs just say it took way longer than expected for the two of you to make it inside, and by the time you were finished doting on his younger self his face felt like it was on fire and looked a searing red. maybe it was whatever that was in your cup that made you so oblivious to his very visible reaction but you carried on like nothing happened at all.
tojiâs room isnât the stark white hospital prison that you thought it would be. instead itâs painted a dark navy blue; not something you wouldâve expected but it was very him regardless. âsooo,â you start eyes quickly exploring the space, darting to his desk thatâs decorated with textbooks and pens. âthis mean you ready to express your undying love for me?â you tease dragging a hand down his chest painfully slow.
âstop reading into everything.â he grumbled eyes staring at your hand trailing before so cruelly leaving him. âcanât blame me. i thought iâd never get an invite to your house let alone your room.â he stares at you wandering for a moment, watching every movement you made thinking about how everything about one person could be so impulsive yet graceful.
but you werenât supposed to be someone he thought about like this so he shakes his head free of the thought and resumes his usual stoic demeanour. âiâm pretty sure you wouldâve followed me home anyway.â he states matter of factly like you were actually that weird. which is crazy because he definitely didnât start tagging along with yuji to the very prestigious fushiguro house just to catch a glimpse of him before he sulked back into his cave. and you absolutely did not spend your time walking past his room 20 or so times until you got scared because he was his face got so angry when annoyed.
or when his mother offered you dinner and you quickly refused because you werenât sure what youâd say or do if he was sitting opposite you.
âdonât insult me when iâm trying to be kind.â you chime, already setting your eyes on the rest of the room. who knew he was such a spider-man fan? posters, the biggest lego figure youâd ever seen. you pointed at it wordlessly smile playing on your face as per usual. he stutters before falling silent and this might be the shyest toji has been in his life at this point.
âyou made that?â examining the details toji instinctively flinches as you move closer. he doesnât respond, not because of arrogance but he couldnât figure out what he could say without sounding too desperate or too indifferent.
why did talking to people have to be so difficult?
he shakes his head and moves toward the tv opposite his bed. scrolling through movies though he knows heâll watch the same one as he did last night, and the night before, and the night before that. the previews almost muffle your never ending questions that for some reason he just couldnât answer.
âwhereâs that from?â he groans.
âhow long did that take?â he rolls his eyes.
âwhy would you get that?â and you were talking about a collectors spider-man comic that he spent three weeks in a bidding war for. surprisingly he has no intention of telling you to shut up or giving you a mean remark like he was used to. instead heâs already steering you back to his bed and âMARVELâ is appearing on the screen before you and heâs practically ordering you to stay focused on it like heâll quiz you on it after.
.
.
its been 20 minutes. 20 minutes and you were already sleeping, curled into yourself like you were freezing which couldnât be possible because he felt like he was in a sauna. he slipped away when you started asking questions already knowing youâd be to stubborn to tell him you were cold.
like the times you sat in the library with him, tank top and a mini skirt that no one could survive in but somehow you did. hugging yourself whilst you looked pissed until he offered you his hoodie, then you were smiling and laughing at the fact he had to hide his face in his hands because he turned red so quickly. embarrassing how words alone so quickly became his undoing and worst of all he couldnât control it to save his life.
mourning the loss of conversation that he wanted to have he stared longer than he shouldâve, contemplating if waking you up was the best option. giving up the bed was the most gentlemanly thing to do plus heâs slept at his desk hundreds of times.
heâs about to get up he swears! just.. maybe till he finishes the movie because itâs his favourite and not because having you next to him whilst his mind wasnât thinking about every possible situation felt better than it shouldâve. comfort.
thatâs it, comfort.
the movie is less interesting nowâ something toji would never say in his life. the sounds of webs shooting and mystical humming that used to radiate off the walls and provide sweet solace to him every time he hit play. but it was lost to the back of his mind when your rhythmic breathing was right next to him.
you shifted in your sleep a lot which was news to toji, he imagined youâd be one to lay back with your hands delicately laid across your stomach. of course you would sleep perfectly when everything you did was. of course he moved each time. accommodating for each new piece of mattress you chose to conquer next, slowly easing him out of his own space.
.
.
the sun that streaked through the room forced you to open your eyes. one leg pendulous off the side of the bed. dress ridden halfway up your body. and this was definitely not your room. you standâwith a lot of internal motivation neededâ and make your way down the steps you were trying to not get closely acquainted with.
you can hear a pan hit another, a splatter and clearly irritated sigh. tojiâs eyes flick to you as the wood creaks, eyes squinting at the lights and your hands drag down your face in protest. âi donât think anyone thatâs normal is cooking this early.â you groan. âitâs not early.â the words are clipped probably because heâs been at this stupid recipe for an hour.
âyou went to class without me?â you shriek memories of your history professor goading you about your attendance. âi didnât go.â curt yet in his own way kind. âyou mean you sacrificed your 100% attendance for me?â the smile you wore was almost enough to make him smile. almost.
âi waited because iâve never seen you hungover,â he pauses pouring different things into a mixer, âmaybe you become deranged and commit arson.â
âyou have a horrible way with words toji.â
he doesnât look up, only replays what you said whilst telling his brain not to think about it.he wasn't much of one to start up a conversation and especially with you. for someone that found a 10,000 word minimum essays easy heâd always end up going silent, staring into the distance because maybe with enough determination he could just dr strange himself out of there.
heâd hoped that he could get his point across in other ways. when he wasâin his mindâstaring at you through a reflection on the glass because why wouldnât you. or when he saw you in the hallways and looked like he was about to start a conversation before his eyes immediately ran from yours and suddenly it was like he never saw you in the first place.
you said it was him being shy as normal the last time it happened.
yuki walked beside you attention off her phone for a millisecond to catch what you were so captivated by; barking out the loudest laugh which more than likely scared him (however much a guy like to toji could be) from ever interacting with you again. being herself she brushed it off saying âthe only thing he cares about was getting all aâs, not some random girl laughing at him.â
âbut that random girl was next to me and he might think i was laughing as wellâ he might think im evil and trying to get with him as a jokeââ âbreatheeeee,â she interrupts as comforting as the most sarcastic person you know could be. âiâm pretty sure he wasnât even looking.â
âitâs easy to think that when you have not one empathetic bone in your body.â
toji walked away from that awkward ordeal and straight to the other most talkative person he knows, unfortunately.
yuji lies starfish on the bench table nobara and megumi on either side seemingly uncaring. âyuji.â he peeks up instantly finding the approaching voice. âfinally not embarrassed be seen with me?â
ânot in a million years.â
toji spends his time being laughed at by three idiot he should have never tried to consult, especially the one that he could easily murder in his sleep considering he was only next door. they gave advice that was too outgoing, like him going up to you and saying hi and complementing you. in what world is that not the worst way things could go.
âyou⊠you look nice.â
âno i donât.â he sounded like he was questioning himself and you shot back because you were sure. maybe context clues needed be his next lesson.
summary: toji was supposed to stay an unshakeable and unsociable person but you come by threatening to change his assigned destiny
song recs: vanilla sky. wrong faces. butterflies. by brent faiyaz
toji fushiguro was the first thing youâd see of you searched up antisocial. you were the very opposite of that and sadly for him youâd made it your mission to befriend the very unfriendly giant.
toji isnât the most outgoing person and we know this. but we also know that normal introverted people never growl at someone for asking for a pen that he had like forty replicas of. for the sole purpose of him hating interactions with people that he didnât have to have.
thatâs why the library became his second home, silent and serene was his preferred environment so heâd be there before and after school and all his breaks. the librarian saw him so much even started letting him get first pick of the new books that came in.
it wouldâve been the perfect place but of course the gremlins he shares earth with decided to become very unwanted roommates the minute finals came around, which forced him to stay in his room which was even worse because yuji acted like he didnât have one to go back to and spent all his time next door.
he was about to walk away before you started shrieking about the fact that he mightâve broken the phone you just got. you demanded he picked it up which he didnât, just sighed and told you it was a dumb choice to not have a phone case but who would hide the gorgeous colour of the back glass.
you finally got a good look at him and realised that had to be megumiâs older brother. you always heard he was an oaf but due to him shielding himself away from the public you never got to see his pretty face for yourself. and you just had to see it again so with a little convincing of his little brother you got his number.
not wanting face embarrassment on your own you decided to gather shoko and yuki as emotional support. the yuki was laying down at the side of you whilst you sat against the headboard and shoko sat at the open window unlit cigarette twisting between her fingers. âsurprised youâd care enough to get his number.â she says pulling a lighter from her back pocket.
âwhatâs that supposed to mean.â
âthat heâs not your usual. maybe a gojo or a sukuna.â
âiâd rather not the definition of ran through
you [10:47 pm] toji right ;)
toji [10:52 pm] no.
you [10:53 pm] anyway its me the very gorgeous girl you nearly ran over
toji [10:53 pm] i donât drive.
you [10:54 pm] itâs a metaphor u should know. plus megumi says you drive him around a lot?
toji [10:55] suspended.
you [10:55] why
toji [10:56] speeding.
you [10:56] here i thought you guys were slow đ
toji [10:56] you guys meaning?
you [10:57] yâknow extra smart guys, writes essays for fun đ„ž
he left you on read but that just made you burst out laughing earning you a few weird looks from the girls next to you, god he really was funny without trying.
-
you started to seek him out on campus and to his dismay started discovering the hiding spots heâd used to hide from incessant talkers like you. he d only sigh and grunt or the very occasional leave me alone but of course you ignored.
sitting across from him at every library visit; tapping him and moving his books so you could get in an inch of conversation which apparently he struggled greatly with. at least with you.
heâd complain to megumi that his weird friend wouldnât leave him alone and youâd be standing right there smiling as if he were talking about someone else. megumi would reprimand you just so heâd stop complaining but you noticed the very faint smile he had, toji did too and you could tell because the hidden smirks between you caused him to start grumbling all over again and muttering something not so faintly about being surround by idiots whilst walking away.
another time yuji somehow convinced megumi to have a party at his and he clearly didnt think to mention to toji that his best friend was at the top of the guest list.
you danced through the party hand in hand wth shoko until she got lost in the crowd, turning to the stairs to reach some high ground you bumped into something hands splaying on the same chest they had before. âtojiiiiâ you laughed. he wondered why you would even know why it was him but there was no other reason than your strangeness.
âdont tell me you were looking for me.â he groans still expecting a yes or a comment he can only stare at in response.
âas if. im looking for my very lost wife, shoko.â you said matter of factly and weirdly he felt off because you were meant to be chasing after him thatâs whatâs normal.
right?
becuase weirdly you just started to be there like it wasnât a game or something you had to conquer. and it became silence that was comfortable and he didnât want it to be. heâd be sitting face so close to the textbook it was like he was going to enter it. glasses resting in his nose bridge whilst you sat opposite sometimes glancing up at him, the rest in your phone because not even your infatuation with him could force you to actually open a book and learn.
heâd often wondered if he could change that, make you see that you didn't have to be a so called nerd to do well. though heâs never seen you study you had to be doing something to not be failing but then again it wouldnât be a shock if someone was getting paid. he quickly grimaced at the thought. you paying someone else to do assignments he could do with his eyes closed.
so what if youâve asked him a million times and heâs said no he was the only smart person that you were supposed to know. the rest could be the stupid frat guys and sorority girls but any other nerd wasnât supposed to be anywhere near your social circle.
he scoffed but helped you up the stairs anyway like he wasnât about to get the party shutdown so he could right an essay on tectonic plates and whatever bullshit about the earths core. you peer over the banister trying to focus on the many blurry faces in the dimly lit room. he wasnât helping. he couldnât. not when your face actually looked focused and not the doom scrolling kind the one where you were actually needed whatever you were looking at.
but did it have to be someone that wasnât him?
your features were highlighted by the ledâs that they bought to bring some sort of light into the den they made out of his house. and it shouldnât have made him feel so weird and he knew what it was. it wasnât some foreign thing because itâd been explained to him by everyone. family telling him that âheâll feel it soon enoughâ and or âwhen you know youâll knowâ.
he knows but he doesnât want to. and why you. not because you arenât his type cause god thatâd be a lie. there was nothing that connected you except his brother and your weird fascination that is bound to dissipate the second he gives in. so no he isnât meant to feel this way and definitely not for someone thatâs probably been through this thousands of times. when you would be his first.
because lets face it he didnât think of himself much of a looker. fucked up scar tracing down his lips, weird towering frame that would look good on a guy that plays a sport and isnât walking down every hallway looking down at people like he wants to kill them.
maybe he was just hallucinating, not from weed or a random drink but staring at his computer 24/7 and making sure the brightness was at max because his glasses stopped helping a long time ago.
âwhatâs with the mute act.â brings him out of his thoughts, he doesnât bother to look back at you. maybe he wouldnât be able to stop staring if he did you looked up at him and paused a smile quickly creeping on your face. âthe whole hard to get thing gets boring, just say you miss me.â
âi donât think itâs possible to miss you because youâre always here.â you finally stop leaning over the wood some ominous fear of heights washing over you. probably a side effect from whatever shoko had in her cup because sheâs always had a higher tolerance than you. âlike youâre telling me to leave.â you quip noticing a thread you canât help but pick at the stray red string on his sweater. âshut up.â he turns his head back to the crowd below. âseems like your wife is busy.â
he points over to the ivory couch and lo and behold sheâs sat with a pretty girl to her side who definitely isnât used to whatever sheâs saying. âso much for inseparable.â you sigh more to yourself than him but he takes it into account either way.
against everything the logic focused part of his brain said (which was the majority.) âyou can uh... watch a movie if you wanted. with me.â he said the last two words so soft so there could be the chance you didnât hear and he wouldnât feel so embarrassed.
you mockingly rolled your eyes already eyeing the room to see who you could dance with next. he had to be joking though that annoying sarcasm you knew all to well didnât seem to follow. instead it was shy and shrunken but again it was probably a joke heâd laugh at if you had agreed.
âyeah right.â you snorted already letting go of him and making your way down the first steps. âw-â, he clears his throat hand softly reaching out for your arm. âwhy?â your eyes meet his searching for some sort of clue as to what heâs up to but they couldnât find anything.
âyou mean it?â the confidence that was barely there depletes to nothing because your staring at him all wide eyed blinking like he told you he won the lottery. he looks away hand leaving you and dragging slowly down his face and with a shaky voice he says âi- i mean if you want.â
his stomach twists when you walk towards him wrapping your hands around a freakishly large bicep. the comfort didnât feel odd but he knew it shouldâve infact in took him to a forbidden place in his mind where heâd imagined that maybe the two of you were more than friends.
somewhere it was normal for him be the one to initiate the hug instead of standing there like a tree or text with some sort of emotion withought over thinking his tone and just settling for being blunt because he always is but thats not how he wanted to be with you.
just before he could settle into the thought he pushed it away with a deep and harsh breath leading you up to his room.
soldier boy x black!vampire!reader soldier boy makes his visit to countess only to find an old friend
you'd been at countessâs house for a couple days recharging after some weird bomb incident that you got caught up in. it was an ugly sight to see for someone with less blood lust than you. but there was something off about it, i mean visually it was magnificent but the blood felt corrupted if you could put it that way.
so instead of satisfying yourself thirst there you found some creep bothering a girl. one human act a day right.
you werent inside when the whole explosion happened because who would want to listen to the filthy things being traded between computer screens. the blow reached far enough to jolt you forward just barely missing a tree but landing not so far from a group of people.
you groan picking a small branch from your thigh the blood seeping through your jeans. âi just got these.â you sigh atleast the cut was small. the skin quickly began clawing itself back together . you dust off your jeans and regain your balance. in the distance you could hear bickering , your ears rang as you tried to pinpoint where but before you could you felt another presence approaching.
you raised a hand to the side of your head in attempt to soothe the pain. the explosions had to have some sort of chemical in them to be affecting you this way.
âyou.â an accusing voice bellows through the ruins that followed you. âplaying best buddies with my fuckinâ ex?â youâd recognised the voice hearing the annoyance within it brought a small smirk to your face.
âstill donât owe you anything ben.â he scoffs running a hand through his hair. âcommon fuckinâ decency is too hard for you now?â he mocks. youâre about to retort when you finally put the pieces together. âit was you wasnât it.â he gives you a confused look anger still present. âyou killed those people.â
he trains his eyes to the ground caught off guard by the topic change. âi knew you were destructive butâŠâ your voice trailed off. âi didnât mean to.â he whispers voice still gruff, same as all those years ago âi didnât know.â
âiâve had my fair share of wipeouts over the centuries no judgement here.â he lets out a small chuckle before stiffening. âcountess.â he resumes. âdead i presume.â he doesnât answer. âthen who cares.â
âdonât give me that bullshit she sold me out!â he finally brings his eyes to meet yours. youâd missed the way those stupid green eyes would ask you questions before heâd ever verbalised them and right now you understood the question looming.
âi didnât know okay. but did you really expect me to have the whole country out for me?â
âi wouldâve turned my back on the damn world for you. i damn well did.â his voice rises. you step back not because he was shouting god you'd heard enough of that for a lifetime but because someone was on their way and you werenât in the mood for a group meeting âbecause your soldier boy not me and trust me thereâs some stark differences between us.â
you werenât a part of his wonder group. didnât want to be but you doubted they were in the diversity mood. instead you spent your time singing at small clubs which was where you met him. he was as subtle as he could be, meaning he glared at you from his section because you refused to acknowledge him with the amount of people around him.
was it a touch of social anxiety, could be. or the fact you werenât a big fan of sharing, more so.
but at the end of that night heâd followed you to the private parking lotâcourtesy of the owner being a fanâ expecting you to have a cigarette in hand maybe even a bottle, instead he was greeted with the sight of your lips to a hecklers neck.
âand here i planned to deal with your friend there myself.â he spoke proudly, ego dripping from every word. he didnât even react to the blood dripping from your mouth nor his neck instead he steps closer and you drop the body to your side the man groaned in the process. âyou got a name darlin'.â âyou werenât listening to me on the stage?" you pout wiping the blood from your lips and smoothing the dress down your sides, the metal taste lingered. âlistened loud and clear, your real name sweetheart.â he paused taking a second to look at the body beneath then brings his gaze back to you. âthe one thatâs fâme.â
safe to say the two of you got close. you didnât care for him and countess because it wasnât like you were serious, that played with his head some because it made him feel like he had no right to comment on whatever new friend you made and everytime he saw he'd lash out at the next server offering him a drink. sure you cared for him but people die and you unfortunately donât.
when he got sold out you tried to play the unaffected lover but somewhere in there you cared for the jackass. so you did the whole asking around thing but it got you nowhere even with the mind control you just never got to the right person, and if you did their brains were mush by then. deciding to move on you packed your things, even tried to get into his place for a souvenir but it was cleared out.
ânot even a damn shirt.â you grumbled.
since then youâve been out and about, disappeared so long that most of vought is a rebrand and extremely easy to manipulate for money, information whatever you needed. everything but ben.
the footsteps get closer and you can hear an accent, british maybe? "have fun on your little rampage."
"get out of my damn head." he notices you retracting yourself and grabs your arm. "you're not leaving me again." he mutters not noticing the group searching behind him. "ill find you benny." and he couldn't argue, just let you slip out of his hands again.
"can't 'ave you disappearing on us again." butcher taps his shoulder and he rolls it off. inside he's berating himself 'i'm goddamn soldier boy should've grabbed her on told her she's stayin'' 'weak just weak couldn't even get the girl back' his fathers voice encircling his mind.
"shut it." he growls. the others look between themselves assuming its whatever he'd smoked previously. "found yourself a new lady just after wackin' the old one." butcher intends to joke but ben just storms off.
âwanker.â butcher mumbles signalling to the rest to follow the man. "where to next soldier boy."
àč áŻâ zᶻ
and here was your next stop the TNT Twins humble abode. the chaos interested you after seeing what ben was capable of, maybe that time being probed by the russians was worth it. he was a man of carnage before but now he's inexplicable.
so you watched from the sidelines as people were skinned alive and revenge hunted and again because that hazy head of his homelander got away.
"bravo." you teased voice sardonic. he narrowed his eyes to find you. continuing on the biting pathway, thorns snagged at his clothes in attempts to pull him back "where are you." he grunts. "missed me benny?" he comes to a stop infront of you. "all my life." he grinned. before you could get another quip in he pulled you in for a slow kiss one hand snaking its way to your cheek whilst the other fumbled to drop the shield. as soon as he could he brought the other to cradle the other side as did you. the two of you worked cohesivley finding a tree for you to rest your back on.
you paused to listen but he took no hint, that same accent you'd heard before vibrating of the branches began proceeding. "ben." you breathe placing a hand on his chest to form some sort of space. "not brushing me off again." he mumbles still pushing his lips against yours.
"what can i say i'm shy now off." his feet retreat reluctantly, now giving you an 'are you serious look'. you lift your heels to give him a light kiss on the cheek. the warmth still remained though you had walked half way down the trail. "patience benny." you smiled turning back to see the harsh look on his face as if he'd been betrayed again. "we have all the time in the world hmm. your starting to catch up to me."
it's short but why is there absolutely zero black reader for him
failing history was very out of the question but you couldnât help it if the professor droning on acted as the perfect sleep aid. every class had become your reserved nap time, your special hour to dream about unicors jumping across rainbows and what tv show yuo were going to try the professor said some boring stuff that youâd just learn on the weekends because you werenât doing anything. maybe go look at a new library or cafe and spend an hour or so doing the work because you didnât mind.
that was until rafe decided that his new passer-by would be disrupting your routinely sleep. forcing you to submit to a new regime that no one in their right mind would agree to. having to attempt to try and hold the most brain dead conversations for an hour was rapidly becoming a part of your routine so you had to start ignoring him all together.
somehowâ and unknown to anyone operating on more than 3 brain cellsâ you and rafe were in the same modern history class. the fact the he was able to stay for so long was surprising because big words very evidently werenât really his thing.
on the very rare occasion that you actually try and have a semi intelligent discussion he always seems to make everything so difficult and plain stupid. or about his creepy frat that you saw preforming some weird ass initiations but no one acknowledges it. and how could you forget his beloved hockey that he would repeatedly ask you to go to so you could âsee him in actionâ and you said no. every. time. much to his disappointment.
when you asked out of actual curiosity why out of a hundred classes he picked this he gave some bullshit answer about wanting a âsmart subject on his records and if it was learning about stupid rocks then so be itâ. you deadpanned for a moment wondering if he was being serious and when he gave whiny âwhat?â you then had to tell him thatâs geography and he signed up to learn history. to which he brushed it off saying they were the same because âwhatâs the difference between old people and old rocks?â
god heâs dumb.
today rafe seated himself beside you once again, pestering you on the exam schedule for classes you werenât even in. you were getting ready to lay your head on unexpectedly comfortable wooden desk when the words âfield tripâ are spoken. like a sleeper agent the way you perk up is very much prominent and it doesnât go unnoticed.
âback from the dead already?â rafe snides, head laying in his palm with an obnoxious smirk on his face.
you groan internally and he sees it.
like the weirdo he is he likes it.
he watches you roll your eyes and not bother to look back it him but it was a reaction none the less. the professor goes on about a museum and a mandatory essay on what we find which doesnât bother you as much as when he calls your name out next to rafes.
âseeing as the two of you have chosen to sit together since we started so i donât mind if you guys pair up.â but you mindâ you mind so greatly that when class ends youâre ready to beg her to change this doomed decision. âi havenât chosen to sit near him at all! he follows me wherever i goâ i think this is borderline stalking.â you rush but the amused look on her face is a clear indicator of her lack of care.
ârelax relax,â she soothes although itâs no help at all, âitâs only for a couple of days and then this little match up is over with.â you sigh in silent acquiescence knowing that this conversation is revealing itself as useless and giving her a depleted thanks.
rafe knew you would try and get this resolved and as much as it was fun to play this âi know you like meâ game, which was fun at first the whole push and pull was enticing until he had to stop looking at things with rose tinted glasses and see them for what they were. as soon as he did it started to seem more delusional than underlying feelings. it kind of hurt because he didnât think he was that much of a bad guy. sure he was in a frat and people donât really like frat guys unless theyâre in sororities or just into a life of bullshit and intoxication but thatâs just what he does.
but heâs fairly normal in his opinion. he parties and sleeps just like any other college student, he may be the one thatâs hosting them every night. but what about the people that turn up to each one? and he is kinda failing but isnât everyone? but then again not everyoneâs future is surrounding on the fact that he needs at least a couple câs if he wants to keep playing hockey like he planned to. he was never good at school donât judge.
his life was filled with ghosting (on his end) and a hundred calls of a screaming girls asking for closure on something he didnât even remember opening in the first place. that isnât that far of off a lot of people, like topper and kelce and all of the other newly graduated frat pledges he has the pleasure of tormenting teaching as frat president. and think of how many frats are in the world right now, that means probably half of the population is blacking out on sunday and iâm a lecture on monday.
and when he wasnât busy with all of that he thought about you. well thatâs a lie itâs more like 99% of the time because his frat brothers started texting him about how he keeps zoning out and itâs starting to get embarrassing. he thinks about what you would be doing in the moment. maybe you thought about coming to a party, maybe you were thinking about him.
maybe you actually just wanted him to leave you alone.
when he thought like that it soured his mood until he saw you again. as if the slightest bit of interaction was the only thing keeping him from going insane.
heâd mope around like he had no responsibility even though he had his next hockey match and ârager of the yearâ to prep for. but he would miss the gym and training all week, of course he could get benched because he played to well but still. he stopped talking to other girls regardless but now he was snappier. wasnât afraid to curse and scream to his hearts delight. he would forget what booze people needed so he was lacking in the selection aspect he promised making them leave earlier or not come all together.
its not understandable in the slightest how he managed to form some sick dependency on someone who actually gave him nothing to work with.
but with rafe only the impossible is possible.
on the day of the field trip you tried to get your friend to drive you over but last minute she wasnât able to for some reasons. imagine your luck that rafe texted you that morning asking if you needed one; and then double texted to tell you he was still on campus.
you met him at his car because hell would freeze over by the time he learned where you lived. as expected it was a fancy two seater, which is pretty useless considering the amount of friends he has but it adds to his âimageâ. but he most likely he had a bigger one on those occasions.
rafe watched you as you walked in the distance. when you were far enough away and hopefully werenât able see all his movement trying to lean on the car, look on his phone and even act like he was inspecting his tire when he knew it was just fine.
he didnât even have to pose because you were marching towards him looking pissed. âit was your creep ass wasnât it?â expensive cotton was backed into a distgusting pedestrian pole. â i donât know what your talking about.â he states, back arching off it in disgust. âmy ride got cancelled because youâre too much of a stalker to just leave me alone.â
he finally steps around of it his expression morphing from one of repulsion to sinister pleasure. the guyâs got a serious degradation kink or something. âcanât a guy be pro active with his feelings?â you give him a dismissive sigh before something catches your eye behind him.
rafe quickly turns back because it must be so important to stop your usual disparaging remarks, only to be met with some weirdo in an apron cleaning the outdoor tables of a cafe. did you want a drink or did you want the guy because that would provoke very different reactions.
âwhat?â he spits like he already knows the answer.
ânothing.â
you answered quickly like you were hiding something. most of the time youâd deny him of answers but apparently that guy was worth dignifying him with one. he wasnât sure if he should thank him for the assist or try and murder him because that is a clear challenge to his manhood, one that he isnât planning on taking lightly.
his eyes are already narrowing like itâll brace him as he grits out, âsomeone important?â you shake your head but he doubts itâs true. now rafe doesnât read people and veryyyy rarely books but he can make a half attempt at you and see that the whole denial thing is weak.
âdoesnât seem like it.â rafeâs murmur goes noticed because you are very blatantly staring at the guy and now heâs decided to stare back. his hand is quickly waving infront of your face, waking you from your daze, and then on your shoulders moving you into the passenger seat.
the guy calls out your name with dopey smile and you almost responded probably wouldâve had a big happy conversation with him and had rafe standing there like a chauffeur. which he was not.
the drive was as quiet as anyone expected. rafe stewed in silence for a moment trying to prove to himself that he could do without a conversation with you. but he quickly proved himself wrong in the form of his thumb tapping the wheel for 20 minutes straight, him looking over at you staring into space and then huffing because you werenât even trying to grab his attention.
and you were avoiding anything to do with him like you planned to but even more so just because he mightâve screwed up your chance with an actual nice guy.
he was only in your psychology class and you guys only really texted for notes or your next study session because he worked in your regular cafe. he was awkward and cute which was a little endearing, an opposite to your more straight forward personality. brown hair and eyes made him the typical cute guy you saw around campus but never really had a full conversation with.
what if he tried to talk to you today but rafe cockblocked him back into his shell making him never want to speak to you again. ugh why did everything have to be so complicated with rafe? why did he have to ruin the little amount of socialising that you participated in? and why did he feel no remorse?
all he did was stare at the road which was better than his usual badgering. atleast there was no unwanted conversation and you could just stare into the fleeting buildings and people flying past whilst you sulked on hypotheticals and what might have beenâs.
*ping*
your phone screen lights with a text from the boy called nial saying âhey i saw you today!â and that told you that faith is not all lost and rafe in fact did not scare him away. whilst you were celebrating inwardly and in his head the smile that rafe was trying to make reserved for him was being wasted on some freak with a name from one direction.
is originality dead now? because the words âmy names rafe tooâ havenât been spoken to him and wonât be anytime soon, and what happened to your so called standards that you told him stopped you from even considering him an option multiple times? the guy didnât even look better than him and probably had a shitty past because everyone does.
he knew you werenât gonna throw yourself at him but come on not even a tiny bit of care. half the time girls were doting over him and begging to talk for a while, impress him just enough so they could get upstairs and do whatever ungodly sin he thought they were perfect for. it was shitty but who cares both parties got what they asked for unlike this situation. he was left in the dark where in really there was no light in the first place but to rafe that was up to consideration.
maybe he could handle it until you guys got there and it wouldnât look like he was giving in because if you donât talk then the two of you are failing and you canât stand failing. your stubbornness might make it impossible to have a conversation and you guys could end up doing it in silence.
rafe can only manage to stay silent around you for so long, he only kept sitting next to you because it brought him some sort of dialogue in an otherwise mute class. the first time he actually attended which was late into the course he sat at the very back scrolling on his phone the whole time, occasionally looking up to make eye contact with the professor a couple times before resuming. whilst he was looking up his eyes found a head down a couple seats away.
thinking that you might be someone he shared an uncaring attitude with the next class he chose the seat next to you. that didnât pan out as expected because his usual charm fell on deaf ears. his pretty blue eyes as heâs been told bought his way in to conversations and still does but they met uninterested ones. ever since heâs made it his mission to try and get you to like him because heâs never had to try before.
after a while a friendship liking turned it to something more. something very unattainable but he gets what he wants⊠eventually at least.
âshouldnât get so worked up about him his face looks weird.â he says breaking the silence. âwell i would be pretty weirded out if you told me you did like the way he looks.â
ân-no not like that just. i donât get why you wanted to talk to him so bad.â
âmaybe itâs not for you to get rafe.â you retort. âmaybe you donât need to be involved in everything like my rides to places.â right you were still hung up on a lot. so what if he kinda sorta paid your friend to stay out of his way so he could drive you. if anything that just shows real devotionâ in his opinion.
âwho says i had something to do with it? not that much of a friend if sheâs bailing on you.â he can feel your all too familiar glare, can practically hear the diatribe as a faint echo in the back of his head. âpreying on the fact that people need cash doesnât make you a good friend either.â he scoffs like he could never fathom that conclusion himself. âi donât prey on people i found a generous solution that benefits everyoneââ
you try to interrupt but he keeps going trying to justify it instead of listening as per usual. âi got to ride with you, she can fund a shopping trip or some shit and you getââ raising your hand to shush him âit isnât about every line getting âbenefitsâ you used someoneâs financial problems to get what you wanted. which by definition is predatory.â
he didnât say anything. was it that he finally understood your point or just didnât want to be told he was wrong anymore. thatâs exactly why you didnât like him; he acted like he had no room for correction even though mistakes was all he made.
at first you thought you might have been overreacting by despising him so quickly. but no he was just a very unlikeable person in general. soon enough you started dreading going to class because heâd be there; ready to talk you to an early grave but missing class wasnât an option.
hopefully you could get through this with a pass and leave him alone forever.
