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muns0n · 2 years

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Best Kept Secret

Chapter 2 - The Leader of Hellfire Club

The door to Family Video creaked as you shoved it open with the back of your shoulder, arms laden with snacks and candy. Robin and Steve stood behind the counter, glancing between the play screen of ‘Taxi Driver’ and you making your way toward them.

“Anyone hungry?” You said with a smile, dumping the selection onto the countertop. Robin jumped forward immediately, hands scrabbling through the reams of plastic as Steve hit play on the movie. Tapping gently against your chin, you tried to choose which sugar-laden treat to go for first, when a familiar hand appeared in your peripheral vision, snatching up a bag of chips.

Your head shot to the right, your breath suddenly catching in your throat as you took in the figure in front of you. He towered slightly over you, clad in a long sleeved shirt emblazoned with an image of a devil and the words ‘HELLFIRE CLUB’. You recognised that shirt. And, of course, you recognised the impressive head of hair on his head, too.

He only seemed to notice you then, hands already deep in the chip bag and mouth crunching smoothly away. Brown eyes flitting to yours, he took you in, recognition settling almost indiscernibly into his own gaze. Smooth as a cat and slick as a predator, his head tipped to the side. The way he stared down at you made you feel.. strange. Hot and cold.

“Hm,” he began, voice low. “Have we met before?” The question was light, simple curiosity, but you didn’t miss the sly undertone coloring his words. He knew exactly where he knew you from.

You feigned confusion. “I don’t think so.”

“She just moved here, Munson,” Steve said, finally joining you at the counter and ripping open a Three Musketeers bar. He pulled the counter door open and latched a smooth hand around your arm, pulling you up onto the dais.

“Fresh meat, huh?” The guy - ‘Munson’ - hummed disinterestedly. He didn’t take his eyes off you as you settled down on a stool behind the counter, turning away from him to face the TV hanging from the ceiling.

“You renting anything?” Steve said, slightly impatient as he chewed on the nougat. The way he addressed Munson was a little weird, slightly friendly but almost slightly fearful too.

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied, slapping a VHS down on the counter as he tossed the bag of chips back into the pile. Robin grabbed them, eyes still glued to the movie, and dug in. Steve rung him up quietly, neither of them speaking to the other. And then, Munson was moving away, the sound of his footsteps growing quieter. “Hey.” His voice came once more. Assuming he was speaking to Steve, you let your focus remain on the screen above you. But - “Hey.” He grumbled, more insistent. Naturally, your gaze moved until it landed on him. And, sure as hell, he was staring straight back. Long, dark-wash jean clad legs offset the glinting silver of his rings, fingers clasped around the door handle. He held a denim jacket - or, no, a denim vest - over his shoulder, hanging off a finger. Regarding you with cool indifference, he let his mouth quirk up into a knowing smirk.

“Next time you want to watch me and the guys in Hellfire Club, just ask.” He let his gaze drop slightly, roving up along your legs and torso. “I’m sure we’d all love to have you there.”

And then he was gone, door swinging shut anti-climactically behind him. You tried to ignore that feeling again, of being both hot and cold, as you turned back to face the movie. You tried to ignore how his voice had sounded, how it had dropped lower after he openly checked you out. You tried, and you failed.

“That was some shameless flirting.” Robin commented, laughing slightly. You felt heat creep up your neck, and were suddenly glad that she was still focused on the screen.

“Who is that guy?” You mumbled.

“That, Y/n, is Hawkins’ resident freak. Eddie Munson. He’s bad news.” Steve replied, sitting down on an empty stool beside you.

“Bad news?”

“Mm,” he mumbled around a mouthful of nougat. Swallowing, he continued. “A bit of a metal head. Does some drugs. I’m pretty sure he deals, too.”

“Oh.” Your voice was quiet, and the sound from the TV droned on in the silence that followed. You had the distinct impression that everyone was focusing on the movie, the plot starting to pick up, but you had more questions. Munson intrigued you. “Is he.. does he go to Hawkins High?”

“Yeah, but he’s 20.” Your eyebrows flew up, incredulous, and Steve smiled slightly at your reaction. “He kept failing classes so he couldn’t graduate. Is he in any of yours?”

“Not any of the ones I’ve had so far, but I still haven’t had any O-Chem or History classes.” An uneasy feeling settled low in your stomach. If this guy was bad news, you’d be trying to avoid him as much as possible. So I hope he isn’t in either of those classes.

“Well, I’m sure it’ll be fine. It’s not like you have to talk to him or anything.” Steve mused, focus returning to the movie. The three of you settled into comfortable silence, mostly broken by the rustling of packets or a bout of laughter at the on-screen happenings.

——————

The next few weeks passed without anything of interest happening. You were hanging out with Steve and Robin pretty often, mostly after school at Family Video. Sometimes, Steve’s friend Dustin (one of the younger guys from Eddie’s Hellfire Club, you had discovered with some disinclination) joined you, too. Thankfully, he was not as intense neither as intimidating as his older, metal-head friend. In fact, he was a sweet guy.

“Wait, so what exactly is Hellfire Club, Henderson?” You asked Dustin one day, hand gesturing vaguely at his t-shirt. He turned to you slowly, eyes narrowed.

“‘What exactly is Hellfire Club?’” He mocked, and you tried not to laugh at how serious he sounded. “Hellfire Club is only the best thing to happen to me since starting High School.”

“It’s a total nerd fest.” Steve laughed, stacking shelves with new VHS releases.

“Yeah, and a sausage-fest, too. Hey, Y/n, you should join. Eddie did say they’d like to have you.” Robin joined in. She flicked through something you couldn’t see on the computer screen as you and Dustin sat sprawled on the floor, your homework strewn around in front of you.

“Eddie said that?” Dustin questioned, genuine surprise in his voice.

“In passing, I think,” you said nonchalantly, brushing off Robin’s comment. You thought back to that night you had seen their meeting - to the figurines and dice on the table in front of the group. “You guys play board games or something?”

“Board games?” He spat, placing a hand on his chest as he reeled away from you in disgust. “No, we do not play board games. We play Dungeons and Dragons. A sophisticated, epic story game that demands both intelligence and wit from its’ players.”

You could only grin and shake your head as you tried to work on the math problem in front of you. You still had questions, though. Calculus could wait a few more minutes. “And Eddie is.. what? Your club president?”

Henderson scoffed lightly. “He’s our game master. So, our leader, sure.”

So you hung out there for a couple hours after school. And then went home, and studied, and ate alone. You were starting to get used to being alone at home, but you still missed your Dad more than you cared to admit. And when he was home, he was so tired from overworking himself that he just wanted to sleep or lay on the couch.

Of course, not everything could be sunshine and rainbows. Something had to go wrong somewhere, and go wrong it did. It started, you supposed, with Steve’s passing comment that first night you had met him.

‘It’s not like you have to talk to him or anything.’

Maybe he had cursed you that day. Or maybe you just had really, really shitty luck. Because when you walked into O-Chem the next morning, a couple minutes late because of traffic, there was only one seat left. In the second to last row. And Eddie Munson was sat in the chair directly behind it.

He sent you a wicked grin as you settled in, murmuring a rushed apology to the teacher and pulling out your textbook. You jotted down the notes that were already on the board, ignoring the presence at your back. Or at least, you were ignoring him, until you felt something small and sharp pressing gently into the back of your shoulder blade.

Glancing down and back slightly, your eyebrows furrowed as you watched Eddie drive the tip of his pencil gently back and forth. It wasn’t hurting, but it was clearly a ploy for attention.

“What do you want, Munson?” You hissed.

“Oh, we’re calling each other our names now, are we?” He murmured quietly. He set the pencil back on the table in front of him, content. “That’s not fair, sweetheart. I don’t know your name.” Something shot to the pit of your stomach at that nickname. It was jarring, and sudden, and not entirely unwelcome. But it was grinding your gears, too. The teacher continued his lesson, more complex topics cropping up in the notes.

“I’m trying to focus here.”

“Okay, okay, sorry.” He hummed, leaning back in his chair. You shot him a distasteful look and went back to your notes, highlighting keywords and definitions in your textbook. It didn’t escape your notice that Eddie was writing down exactly nothing behind you.

And it also didn’t surprise you when the air at your neck became slightly warmer once more, slightly thicker. It didn’t surprise you when his voice came again, this time in a whisper.

“Pretty handwriting.”

You said nothing for a moment, hand stilling and fingers pressing slightly harder against the pen. Maybe it was better to just ignore him.

“Don’t ignore me.”

Never mind.

You spun in your chair, sending him a withering look that would have had your classmates back home running. He only tilted his head again, the same way he had last night, and regarded you from beneath dark lashes.

“I really need to focus.”

“Then tell me your name.” He said, shoulders shrugging indifferently. He was just messing around, doing anything but the work. And you really did need to focus, so you gritted your teeth and sent him a smile you hoped would get him off your back.

“It’s Y/n.”

You didn’t know how you expected him to react. Maybe you thought he would finally pull out a notebook, suddenly inspired to actually do what he was supposed to be doing. Then again, a high school senior at 20 wasn’t someone you thought would be subject to sudden enlightenment. Either way, you didn’t expect his lips to pull slowly into a smile, or for him to test out your name on his own tongue.

“Y/n.” It was as if he was seeing how it felt. His forearms were braced on the edge of his desk that was closest to yours, and he let out a breath through his nose before pushing back to lean against his chair. When you kept staring, his smile turned into a frown of confusion. “What is it, Y/n? I thought you needed to focus.”

You turned away before he could see the warmth creeping up your cheeks. Shaking your head, you picked back up your pen and got back to work, reminding yourself of exactly who this guy was.

A drug dealer. And bad news. And I need to graduate and go to college without any distractions.

You decided then and there that you would have nothing to do with Eddie Munson.

#reader x eddie munson #eddie st4 #eddiexreader #eddiemunsonxreader #eddiemunson #eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie #Joseph Quinn #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #dustin henderson #stranger things eddie #hellfire stranger things #stranger things #st4 #robin buckley

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velvethopewrites · 2 years

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Hearts & Flour

“Is all of this…for me?”

Ginny asks, gazing around their kitchen. No, correction, Harry’s kitchen. He’s always sort of staked his claim to it, right from the start. Ginny has been okay to let him have it, truth be told.

But right now his kitchen is an absolute mess. There are pans everywhere; racks with varying types of pastries cooling on them and flour is everywhere. It’s even on Harry. And he looks adorable, she has to admit, but oh no, she’s not going to tell him that. Because as well as being covered in white powder and (what Ginny hopes is) chocolate along his face, Harry also looks pretty hacked off. He glares at her almost accusingly.

“What are you doing home! You weren’t supposed to be back until late!”

“The meeting turned out shorter than I thought,” Ginny said, coming into the kitchen proper. She pretends to look disinterestedly into a large orange bowl of something that smells remarkably like treacle. With a wave of his wand, Harry floats the bowl over to the counter and frowns at her, his hands on his hips.

“What exactly are you doing, Harry?” Ginny asked.

He looks shy for a moment, but she finally sees his shoulders relax. “It was for our Valentine’s celebration.”

“But Valentine’s Day was last week.”

“I know, Gin. But we missed it because I was gone on that mission. I thought…I thought I could make it up to you. With….” Harry shrugs and moves his arm in a circle to indicate the mess around him.

Ginny bites her lip and looks away to hide her smile. She raises what she hopes is a cool eyebrow and glances back at him. “You thought I would appreciate a messy kitchen as a romantic gift?”

Harry purses his lips and only grunts at her. He waves his wand a few times and the kitchen looks marginally better but there is still a sense of chaos in the air. Not to mention the scent of something burning. Ginny nods at their stove and Harry follows her gaze and then swears a rather bad word indeed as he rushes to pull out whatever it is he’s forgotten about.

As his shoulders slump, Ginny comes up beside him and stares at what looks like a charred pan of strawberry tarts.

“Bugger. Those looked kind of good. Well, minus the dark, burned bottoms.”

Harry only gives her a disgruntled look and sets the pan on the counter, checking each tart to see if there are any to be saved. There’s not. He sighs and pulls his oven gloves off in a huff of frustration.

Ginny smirks and touches his arm. “Harry, love, it’s okay. I don’t need you killing yourself baking. You more than made it up to me by keeping me in bed all weekend. Or have you forgotten already?”

Harry blushes, but then shrugs sort of helplessly as he looks around the kitchen.

“I just wanted to do something nice. A surprise. A romantic surprise.”

Ginny leans in and before she captures his mouth for a kiss, she brushes a bit of flour off of his cheek. His eyes spark at hers when she pulls back and she smirks at him.

“What happened, anyway? It’s unlike you to be so…chaotic while baking.”

“Ron floo’d and I got distracted with, erm, something. I’m sorry. I wanted it to be perfect.”

“You should know by now that I never expect perfection from you.”

Harry fixes her with an unamused look. “Ha-hah.”

Ginny laughs and runs her hands through his hair, making it stand up even more. “Not the way I meant that and you know it. Is there anything worth salvaging? Or should we just order out for afters tonight?”

“The chocolate croissants should be all right,” Harry said, frowning. “And I hadn’t had a chance to ruin the treacle yet.”

“Then that’s all we need,” Ginny said, smiling.

Harry just stares at her and then runs a hand down his face. When he finally meets her gaze again, there’s a sheepish look on his face that Ginny doesn’t understand. Fumbling for a moment, Harry steps back and with an almost timid grin, he pulls a red velvet box from his jeans pocket and simply holds it out to her.

Ginny feels her heart start to beat a staccato in her chest but she makes herself take a deep breath before tentatively reaching out and touching the jewelry box.

“Harry?”

“Go on then,” he said, shaking his head. “I was going to give it to you surrounded by all your favorite sweets so I, er, could wear you down, I reckon, I don’t….” Harry gets a sudden determined air and pushes the box firmly into Ginny’s hand. He uses his fingers to close hers around it and there’s a certain look in his eye….

Her heart, now beating like a dervish, is suddenly in her throat and although they have talked about marriage before this, it feels almost too soon, too much, too….

Ginny opens the box and finds a lovely golden ring on a soft rose colored pillow. It is delicate and intricate - a band made of vines, like a trellis almost, and the stone, a beautiful diamond in a filigree setting winks at her. She looks at Harry, who nods, an adorable smile on his face and she bites her lip, almost afraid that if she reaches out and touches the ring it will break the spell.

“Gin,” Harry whispers, his voice low and trembling. He removes the ring from the box and holds her hand in his as he slips it over her finger. His green eyes are bright and full of unsaid things - and she exhales slowly, suddenly unable to find her voice.

“Ginny Weasley, will you do me the honor of being my wife?” Harry eventually asks, his voice a bit gruff, but his eyes are amused and full of life. She nods, still missing her voice and he smirks, the git, as he slips the ring over her finger slowly and surely. They both stare at it, and Ginny knows she should say something, anything, but she’s gone very quiet inside and she hears everything and nothing both at the same time and she loves the man in front of her so much it almost breaks her.

“Well, if I knew this would be what finally makes you stop talking around me again, I might have proposed sooner—oomph.”

Ginny throws herself into his arms and her heart feels 1000 times too big for her rib cage and damn it, she’s crying! How can he always make her cry when she doesn’t want to be teary? And then they’re kissing, and like a spell has been lifted, her voice is back! And she’s saying yes, yes, yes, a thousand times yes, and when they finally break apart, Harry’s eyes have darkened and his lips are an almost violent shade of red from all of her kisses and the eleven year old girl inside her screams unintelligently but the 20 year old woman she is on the outside sighs quite happily.

Harry links his hand with hers, bringing them up together and he’s blushing, which makes him look too adorable and they kiss again - Ginny doesn’t know which one of them moved first but it doesn’t matter.

And later, after they decide to christen their table yet again with Harry’s fine backside and she has flour in her hair and other places - later when Harry’s scent is all over her and she can hear the strong beat of his heart as she rests her head on his chest, then and only then, does it sink in that she is going to be Mrs Ginny Potter.

Harry reaches over and grabs one of the by-now-completely-cooled chocolate croissants and feeds her a piece. She licks her way around his finger, the delectable taste of rich chocolate and the light flaky butter of the pastry making her swoon.

“Well, how are they?” Harry asks, always eager to know he’s got it right. She has never understood his insecurity over his baking; everyone always tells him his desserts are heavenly.

“Delicious,” Ginny says. She tosses her hair over her shoulder and winks at him. “The croissant isn’t bad, either.”

Harry snorts and raises an eyebrow at her. “A bit corny, Miss Soon to Be Mrs Potter. I thought you were above such things.”

“I was swept away,” Ginny deadpans and then smiles as she looks around. “You know, I’d like to try everything you’ve made, but…can we maybe get off the table first?”

Harry laughs as they sit up. “Yes, please.” He smirks at her. “When we retell this story, let’s leave out the part where you couldn’t wait to have me, just to protect any future children we may have. For the record, I proposed to you surrounded by flowers and a perfectly clean kitchen. With no burned bits. And definitely no flour up my—”

“No promises,” Ginny whispers, stopping him.

She moves her mouth to a particularly sensitive spot she knows he has on his neck, right below his ear. “Especially since I expect a re-enactment of this proposal every single year. Even when we’re too old to bend our knees.”

“We’ll have to use the levitation charm to get up here,” Harry says, smirking.

Ginny laughs and runs her hand’s down Harry’s still semi-clothed body. “Hmm, sounds kinky.”

“So, what do you reckon?” Harry asks as he helps her down and they pick up their discarded pieces of clothing. “Long engagement or right away?”

“My mum is not going to let you get away with anything under six months and you know it. Besides it’s Quidditch season.”

“You want to get married on the pitch?”

Ginny snorts as they embrace again. “No. As much as I love Quidditch, no.”

They both chuckle and look around the kitchen, which is still messy. She glances at Harry and uses her wand to tidy it up a bit more.

“I suppose that’ll do until morning, if you wanted to continue this celebration some place softer? Like a bed?” Ginny asked, raising an eyebrow.

Harry just smiles and takes her hand into his to lead her upstairs. And Ginny grabs a couple of more croissants for them. Just to keep their strength up, of course.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Note: Yes, I know it’s almost March and Valentine’s Day is blip in the rearview mirror, but this is for all of you. ❤️ I wish it could have been on time and longer and well, just better, but my muse is a persnickety _____.

#hinny #fanfic #my writing #harry and ginny #ficlet #harry potter #ginny weasley #baking harry!#is a thing apparently #fluff #a belated valentines gift

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heyiwrotesomethings · 2 years

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Hi hi !!

I just read ur Mina fic an I thought it was adorable !! An I was curious if I could request a Mina x Reader (they/them) where Mina accedentally melts one of her favorite pens (like she sneezed and her reflexes activated her quirk) and maybe the reader takes her out shopping for new pens or or surprises her by buying her a new one ?

Sorry if this is too short or somethin I just got really excited ansnnsnm

For You!

Mina Ashido x They/Them Reader

A/N: Yay more Mina! Don’t worry, you did great :D Word Count: 777 (Ooo jackpot)

“These are the main disaster settings and their accompanying rescue protocols. Be sure to write these down and be able to explain why these rescues are done in these situations if you want to do well on the next test.” Aizawa droned on disinterestedly.

Mina was in the zone.

She was feeling like a note taking god right now. Usually by now her hand would start to cramp or she would start doodling in the margins of her notebook or begin flagging and fall asleep on accident. Something about the fit of her favorite pen in her hand as it glided effortlessly across the page, leaving behind glittery characters in its wake made her feel way happier than any simple pen should.

She looked up at the board to copy the next line of text and felt a familiar tickling in her nose. She rubbed at her nose to try to get rid of the feeling, but only served to irritate it more. She inhaled sharply and barely had time to cover her nose and mouth in her elbow before,

“Achoo!”

“Geeze, Mina, you good?” Kirishima asked.

“Yeah, excuse me…” She snuffled then looked down at her paper, “No, no, no!”

She had reflexively shot acid all over her desk. Something she hadn’t done since elementary school. Her acid had ruined her notebook, eaten through her desk and worse yet, her favorite pen, melted! What kind of injustice was this!

“Ashido, I’m in the middle of a lecture. Keep your cries of despair to yourself until after class is over.” Aizawa asked, not even bothering to turn around. “A new desk will be waiting for you tomorrow.”

Forget the desk! What about her notes? Her pen! This is the thanks she gets for participating in class? With a soft moan of defeat, Mina thumped her head against her corroded desk and waited for school to end. Unbeknownst to her, a fellow classmate made a plan to stop at a nearby store before heading back to the dormitory.

***

Mina went right to her room after school and flopped lifelessly onto her bed. Her face smothered against her plush pillow, she fell asleep almost immediately and only awoke to a faint knocking a couple hours later.

“Who is it?” She yawned, taking note of the time. Man, she missed dinner! What a crappy day.

“It’s (Y/n), can I come in?”

“Oh yeah, of course! Door’s open!” Mina jumped up and fixed her hair quickly before greeting (Y/n) at the door. “Hey, what’s up? Whaddaya got there?“ she asked almost in one breath, motioning (Y/n) further into the room and offering them a seat.

“Just a couple things I thought you might find helpful.” They smiled, offering the plastic bag to Mina.

“Aw, (Y/n), what’s this for?”

“I noticed you were working hard today and I felt bad about what happened with the whole sneezing incident. I figured you could use a pick me up.” They said, their hands in their pockets as they rocked on their feet.

Mina, dug into the bag and made a delighted sound, grabbing (Y/n) in a side hug.

“You got me a new notebook? Thanks! That’s really sweet!” She thumbed through the pages and was surprised to find that some pages had already been filled. She looked to (Y/n) who quickly gave her an explanation.

“I copied down my notes for you. I thought it might be helpful.”

“It is! It is! Thanks a lot! I was dreading having to write all of that again!”

The bag still had some heft to it so she placed the notebook on her desk and reached inside, jumping for joy when she pulled out a ten pack count of her favorite sparkly gel pens in various fun colors.

“Aw, (Y/n) you are the best, honestly! Thank you so much! What else could you have possibly given me? This is too sweet!”

“YaoMomo texted me. She said she didn’t see you at dinner so I picked something up for you while I was out.”

Mina put everything on her desk to give (Y/n) a proper full contact hug that almost sent them sailing through the wall.

“You are the most thoughtful person ever! Did you get yourself dinner too?”

“Yeah, I dropped it off at my room.” They said, jabbing their thumb in the direction of the hall.

“Well go get it! Let’s eat together and watch some tv!”

“Yeah? Okay, I’ll be right back!”

While waiting for (Y/n) to return, Mina opened the fresh pack of pens and arranged them how she liked while thinking of a way to repay (Y/n) for the extremely kind gesture.

#mha oneshots #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bnha oneshots #mina ashido #mina ashido x reader #mina x reader #requests #hutaosleftbang

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notchesandbullets · 3 years

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Wherever You Go, I Will Follow (Boxer! Metal Arm! Bakugou x Reader) Underground!AU

Art credit: @/helloclonion on Instagram

Warnings: violence, drinking (everyone is of age), hints of ptsd and depression, mentions of cloning norms, angst but fluffy ending.

Synopsis: Bakugou doesn’t like to talk about what happened to his left arm. Years of fighting underground had made him harder than nails. Society was messed up. Children weren’t born, they were made and any who aren’t adopted are raised in mass orphanages. But you’re special. And you’ve chosen the light even though you’ve seen the darkness. Who else to get through to his heart other than someone like you?

Words: 7.8k

The lights blind you momentarily as they flashed on. The humidity in such a crowded space packed with people was making your skin crawl but it was worth it for the greatly anticipated show.

An underground arena that had this much hype was rare since most fighters didn’t make it past their 20s due to injuries so severe from boxing that it cost them their lives.

There were zero qualified doctors here in the society riddled with old factories that didn't exist anymore and sleazy underground cities where nothing could grow anymore due to the pollution. It had fallen to ruin and only a select handful that could heal like they claimed to.

Due to that little insignificant fact, that meant the expected lifespan of everyone down here wasn’t more than 30 years of age.

Of course, it varied from section to section, but there was enough pattern to know that there wasn’t long to live once you got to your teens.

Therefore, everyone lived fast and hard down here, trying to experience as much as they could before it was their time to go.

And while you couldn’t say that you blamed them, that wasn’t how you wanted to live. You wanted to fight back against the norm and make a difference that would change this world.

Which is why you were so interested in this particular fighter.

Bakugou Katsuki.

A reformed individual with a criminal record after a looting with his crew went sideways. He was stronger than most with an attitude and ego bigger than the city itself.

He was renowned to be one of the baddest in the underground and had a personality as difficult as a cloned Siberian tiger.

You sighed and rolled your eyes. You didn’t know why Mic couldn’t come scout today instead of you, you hated how jam packed Bakugou’s fights got, which is why you always steered clear of them.

Well, that and because you weren’t exactly partial to his famed temper.

Then, the glint of metal had you on the edge of your seat, eyes sparkling with curiosity as you caught a better look the second time around as he stomped into the ring.

Was that… a metal arm?

It looked like something straight out of Marvel’s Winter Soldier from back in the day. Scarily so.

You faintly recalled that his opponent’s name was Shindou, supposedly the underground’s upcoming rising star to the top. His undefeated reputation preceded him and he certainly was easy on the eyes.

So why did you find your gaze drawn to the arrogant boxer with a cocky smirk on his face across from the guy that was cuter than him?

Metal arm flexing, sweat dripped down his brow, his crimson eyes narrowed in concentration and tinged with a hint of malice as his much larger rival took a swing at him to kick off the round.

Bakugou blocked it head on, retaliating with a force that sent him spiraling towards the cage. His wrapped hands were crusted with blood and he hastily brushed the dirtied, spiky hair that fell into his eyes out of his face, a ravenous hunger coming through as he bounced on the balls of his feet.

“Is that all you fucking got, extra?!” He screamed in Shindou’s face and you actually had to cover your ears at the sheer volume that carried through the stadium, egging him on.

Your mouth dried as Bakugou caught him across the jaw the second he flew at him, knocking out his opponent in one go, calling the match in under thirty seconds flat.

Holy shit, he’s good. You thought to yourself, thoroughly impressed, barely able to hear yourself over the crowd’s roar as Bakugou punched his fist in the air victoriously.

His technique seemed rough to the naked eye but taking a closer look, his form and tactics were flawless. His overall strategy could use a little work, since he seemed particularly keen on using brute strength, but he was really good at turning the tables on his opponent in an instant.

And really good at making sure that they couldn’t get up again after he threw them down.

You had your share of good fighters. Not like that, you dirty minded creature, you were a scout for your father’s gym.

Aizawa wasn’t a revered name by any means, but that didn’t mean he lacked skill. He was the one who could take down more people than any other pro could, but he absolutely hated media attention. Hence why almost no one knew of his abilities, other than a select few of his colleagues and fellow fighters.

And you of course. You were so incredibly proud of your him.

He had recently been scouting new talent after taking in several kids: Shinsou, Todoroki and Midoriya.

The female boxers in his ring were a literal force to be reckoned with. You weren’t sure you’d ever seen someone pack a punch with as much power as Uraraka when she got serious. And no one could beat Yaoyorozu when they stepped in the same arena as her.

In the underground, it was normal to come across those that talked big, but rarely have you ever seen them deliver.

This guy had some raw talent. Perfect.

Looks like Uncle Hizashi’s instinct was right.

After the fights ended and the exciting night came to a close, you wormed your way through the rows of people lining up to claim their bets that they had placed at the beginning of the night. You were at least smart enough not to get sucked into all that.

A cage match had too many variables. The odds could change in a split second, no matter how good or bad the fighter was. And since there were no rules, anybody could win.

You found the boxer in the designated fighters’ alcove security had put there especially for them to wind down. Here, they would be hidden away from the crowd and only the fighters knew about this spot aside from those that protected it.

“You’re good.”

Bakugou snorted, not looking up at the sound of your voice as he continued to unwrap the tape from his hands. “Of course I am, dumbass.”

You cocked an eyebrow at his arrogant attitude but after a fight like that, you guessed the pride was well deserved. After all, the guy he went up against was undefeated. No one had beat him and after Shindou earned his reputation of tearing the limbs off of the fighters he faced, no one wanted to step into the ring with him after that.

But Bakugou didn’t back away, even going so far as to taunt this guy, boldly proclaiming that he’d beat him.

Normally, you would brush off those guys as no good but he made good on what he said he would do, so you were at least a little bit curious.

A little.

You still didn’t like his attitude though.

Tossing the bloodied wraps in his bag, he ignored you as you just stood there like a lost puppy. People like you didn’t belong in the underground.

Soft.

Bakugou scowled and huffed scornfully, throwing his bandages down with a little more force than necessary.

Patching up wasn’t too bad this time around. He was lucky the round ended when it did though, that fucking extra had too much boisterous energy and willpower that had carried him this far. Still, it was better than fighting bare-knuckled.

There was a time when wraps or gloves weren’t allowed. People liked the blood and violence, and craved someone to come out victorious by taking the other’s life.

Fucking sickos if anyone asked him.

Bakugou slung his gym bag over his shoulder and shouldered his way past you since you had yet to say a word after that initial, begrudging praise. He couldn’t care less if you hung around but he wasn’t going to stick around for the damn media to catch whiff of this fight.

Once it was leaked that he had won, they would take a percentage of his cut and he would have to go without food for another week just to pay rent on that shitty place he stayed at.

It wasn’t much but it was better than the streets.

“Wait.” You called out, inwardly chastising yourself for being so pathetic.

You weren’t star-struck or nothing, so why were you feeling so tongue-tied?

Taking a deep breath when he snapped his head around to glare at you in annoyance for stopping him, you rolled your eyes when he tapped his foot impatiently.

“You gonna take all fucking night, extra?” Bakugou barked at you, clearly not playing around.

Your eyes widened as the metal plates on his left arm clinked together as he raised up his fist threateningly.

“I’ve got places to go and shit to do.” He grumbled. “So if you’re just going to stand there like a fucking—”

“Do you want to be a part of Aizawa’s gym?” You blurted out before he could get too carried away on his rant.

Bakugou arched an eyebrow in surprise. He hadn’t been expecting that. It was rare that the scruffy old man took on recruits.

Huffing, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and scrutinized you. “Who the hell are you?”

You cringed at how rough his voice laced with suspicion came out but you supposed you could understand.

Collectors were far too common these days, usually rich scouts from corporations that searched for talented fighters to partake in their financial war when it turned bloody.

You weren’t really sure how it was possible for those airheads to train delinquents into soldiers for their military to fight in the wars that they created, but all you were really concerned about was dodging those scouts.

They weren’t people to trifle with.

Bakugou’s suspicions were misplaced this time around though and you jutted out your hip, planting your hand on it as you regarded him disinterestedly.

There was only one thing that you could say to get him to trust you.

“He’s my dad.” You said quietly.

The boxer nearly choked on air and you flashed him a cheeky grin when he whipped his head around to glare at you.

“Fuck, seriously?”

You nodded and a heavy exhale whooshed out of his lungs in one breath.

Bakugou cocked up an eyebrow, seeing you in a completely different light. “Holy shit.”

You resisted the urge to dash away under his intrigue but you flinched when his eyes landed on you again.

“Sorry.” Bakugou muttered, averting his eyes. “Just never seen one before.”

You scratched the back of your neck, a habit you picked up from your introverted father whenever he was put in uncomfortable situations. “Yeah…”

Children weren’t born anymore, it was illegal. Partly because expenses couldn’t be covered if people got pregnant and partly because the kids would have nowhere to go, but mostly because the government wanted a controlled population.

By controlling the gene pool, they could create whoever and whomever they chose, placing them in different status’ around the world to fill in the gaps and create the perfect society.

Except, it really wasn’t all that perfect.

You had been a product of your mom and dad’s unconditional love for each other, something else that was also forbidden, especially in the underground cities where disease ran rampant and claimed numerous innocent lives everyday.

Your mother wasn’t dead but she did have to leave soon after you were born to protect you from the government officials that would come if she stayed.

Your dad was heartbroken but once every three years, the three of you were reunited under the bridge where seagulls cried and the waves crashed upon the shore.

Once upon a time.

Bakugou crossed his arms over his chest, his bicep bulging and you were willing to wager that he specifically got those measurements for his metal arm tailored to those specifications just so his huge muscles were distractingly the same size.

He was still not entirely convinced you were who you said you were. He knew that you had to at least be a bastard’s biological child, no one was bold enough or fucking stupid to say that much out loud, but he still wasn’t sure that the old man was your dad.

Not bothering to be discreet as he eyed you up and down, he motioned for you to give him a little more information.

“Aizawa, huh?” Bakugou drawled. “You don’t fucking look like a brat that belongs to him.”

Clearing your throat, you smirked. Now you were the one tapping your foot impatiently. “Thanks, I’m told I have my mother’s eyes.”

He glared at your sarcasm but you didn’t care.

Craning your neck to the side to get a better look at that beautiful arm of his, you pouted when he ducked out of range.

“Prove that he’s your dad.” He demanded and you feigned innocence before shooting him a grin when he rolled his eyes irritably.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you responded cheekily, “Coffee and cats are his two favorite things in the world, and he only tolerates Uncle Hizashi on a whim when he’s wasted.”

Bakugou barked out laughing and you smiled at the boisterous sound escaping from his lungs.

“So,” You kicked your feet, scuffing the dirt as you sidled over to him. “You in or what?”

His left arm glinted in the dim, flickering light of the alcove and he tucked in his chin the slightest bit to stare down at you, the corner of his mouth quirked up.

“Hell yeah.”

Exactly one year later, you were weaving in between the clustered bodies in the dingy underground bar you were at to make your way to the obnoxious and rowdy group in the back, all while balancing a tray of beers in one hand.

They had just arrived a few minutes ago, eagerly chatting with your dad, who was their trainer, even though he looked like he’d rather be anywhere else but here.

Your skirt flared around your ankles as you sashayed through the crowd dancing on the dancefloor, a couple strands of hair sticking to your forehead from the exertion of how many tables you waited on already.

“First round’s here!!” You announced, beaming brightly at the packed group of 15.

Shoji, Mineta, and a few others couldn’t make it due to conflicting schedules. But it was alright, they would come again another time. Besides, you were quite sure that a special someone couldn’t care less if they made it or not for this particular day.

“YES!!” Kaminari shouted escatically, throwing his hands up in the air.

A chorus of “thank you’s” came from the girls as Ashido eagerly reached for her first drink of the night, downing half the bottle in one go. You predicted she was going to be out like a light within the hour if she kept that pace up.

“Don’t get shitfaced, Kaminari.” Jirou twirled a strand of her dark hair cockily as she teasingly held the last one out of arm’s reach. “Lightweight.”

“Jirou!!” Kaminari protested while the table burst into laughter.

The edgy fighter eventually gave into him, shaking her head in disapproval when he proceeded to chug all of it straight like it was some kind of shot. A knowing smirk appeared on her face when he choked.

“Told you so.” She rubbed in his face as Asui leaned into her side.

“Shut up!!” Kaminari shouted between violent bouts of coughing. It only got worse when Ashido slapped his back, already drunk.

But the slight pink dusted across his cheeks clued you in on what he was really doing.

You shook your head. If he was any more dense, you would’ve smacked him upside the head. Maybe then he would’ve come to his senses and that he didn’t need to do all these things to impress her.

Jirou never hated anything more than someone who felt fake to her.

As you distributed the rest of the drinks to a clueless Todoroki, a way too eager Midoriya, and handed water to Koda, who thanked you shyly with a small nod.

You smiled at him, then left to the bar that your uncle was managing to get the order for the next table while Iida shouted for everyone to make sure they drank responsibly so that they didn’t cause any problems for you.

But it was largely ignored in favor of raising their beers in a toast for the birthday boy.

Bakugou scowled in the corner that he was shoved into, wondering why he of all people had to be dragged to this shitty celebration for a birthday he couldn’t care less about. It was too loud here and it was making his head hurt. The only consolation he got was that you were a rare sight, wearing a dress that he had bought for you a week ago.

The seamstress who had made it for him specifically had charged him an incredible amount of money for it, since fabric of any kind that wasn’t made from recycled garbage liners was nearly impossible to come by.

But being a part of the ring of fighters that made up Aizawa’s Warriors gave him credibility and enabled him to make even more money than he did before, so it wasn’t a problem.

That much.

After rent on his rundown place and scrounging for food, he had saved up the rest for weeks before he was able to afford the pale blue satin dress edged with delicate white lace around the sleeves that cascaded off your shoulders. The tightly-fitted bodice that wrapped around your waist was a simple leather corset, accentuating those curves of yours more than should be legally allowed.

You looked absolutely delicious.

You continued to sweep around the tavern, oblivious to the looks you were getting. You had a bit of expertise in waitressing due to the lack of income your dad was able to provide so you had to convince him that you really didn’t mind helping out with the staff tonight.

The bar, owned by your Uncle Hizashi, a retired fighter but not retired in spirit, had all the profits go to the orphanages the city couldn’t keep track of or be bothered to pay for; which enabled those kids who were abandoned to have a roof over their heads in all the uncertainty.

The state of those houses holding those homeless children were horrendous.

But your dad and uncle were taking steps to create something new that would provide them with some relief and a new family.

Kirishima clapped the ash-blond on the shoulder, jarring him out of his annoyance. “Come on, Bakugou, loosen up!!”

He clicked his tongue and scowled at the red-haired guy’s energy. No one would think that this fun-loving guy and people person would be such a terrifying fighter in the arena.

Kirishima frowned when he noticed his lack of enthusiasm. “C’mon man, I know this isn’t your scene but Y/N worked really hard on this.”

Bakugou’s drink nearly spilled as he set it down abruptly. He wasn’t expecting that. Aizawa had told him that his friends had arranged this.

Picking up on his confusion, Kirishima then proceeded to tell him about how you gathered everybody to ask if they’d be willing to attend the party and how all of them enthusiastically said yes. You had gotten special permission from your Uncle Hizashi to borrow the VIP section of his bar and convinced your father to go easy on their training today.

Really, the grumpy man with the metal arm should be thanking you since you were the reason all of them weren’t sore to death with barely enough energy to keep their heads up.

Kirishima was going to blame it on Aizawa. He was tough on them. Too tough. No one should be that determined to make their students push past their limits but everyone knew it came from him caring more than anyone else.

They were all like his adopted children, in a weird, skewed way. But, no one was going to argue against it. None of them had their biological parents in the picture.

Besides, Aizawa had enough room for them all to crash in his home. An abandoned mansion overrun with thick green vines but had no working electricity whatsoever looked like something straight out of one of those old horror movies back in the 3000s.

Bakugou scoffed. Like hell should he care about whether or not you planned this. He didn’t ask you to do any of this, you decided to do it all on your own.

“Whatever.” He grumbled, snatching his bottle before stalking away from his shocked friends left in the dust.

Todoroki raised an eyebrow as Kirishima sighed and Midoriya’s expression saddened when he saw him leave. They were supposed to be celebrating…

And yet, all three of them knew why today was so hard for the explosive boxer.

You frowned as you noticed the slumped figure retreating to the back of the establishment. Finishing up serving the drinks for the table you were waiting on, you briefly made a detour to your uncle and asked if it was alright that you take a break.

Ever the doting uncle who loved to spoil you rotten, Mic’s eyes softened understandingly when he noticed who you were staring after and granted you permission.

“Just don’t tell your dad I let you off the hook.” He bargained with an exaggerated wink and you giggled.

“I won’t.” You reassured, setting down the tray and squeezing his hand in thanks.

Then, you followed Bakugou.

He disappeared around the corner and as soon as you tailed him, you came to a stop in front of a heavy door. Your brow furrowed, wondering why he would be coming here.

Step after familiar step you took until you eventually came to a standstill on the roof.

Behind you, the heavy door slammed close but it sounded different than usual. Something metal crashed into it, denting it by the sounds of it, and it wasn’t until you turned around that you found Bakugou’s vermilion eyes boring into yours.

The wind was stronger up here and you pinned your arms down to your side, knowing full well from experience how mortifying it would be if your skirt decided to flip up right now.

“What the fuck are you doing up here?” He snapped angrily.

To his surprise, you didn’t look the least bit fazed by his outburst.

“I live here.” You responded nonchalantly, undeterred by his characteristic abrasiveness.

If Bakugou was startled at that revelation, he didn’t show it. If anything, he looked even more irked, though you didn’t know why. He didn’t have any reason to suspect you of lying but in this world, it was safer to be skeptical than sorry.

However, you hadn’t given him one reason to doubt you the entire year you’ve known him. Not one.

So if anything, he trusted you more than the majority of the rats in his rundown city and just as much as his small circle of extras.

Picking your way past him carefully since the roof didn’t have a safety rail, you made your way towards the curtained tent hiding behind the generator. Pushing the tattered material back, you showed him the bedroll and small table set up with a few bottles of water, a case of beer and a worn book.

Bakugou’s mouth dropped open but he recovered quickly so by the time you turned back around, he had the same indifferent, kind of irritated look on his face.

Then, he was a bit at a loss of what to do. It wasn’t often he was faced with the dilemma of being wrong so blatantly. Should he apologize? Even when he didn’t say anything but the thought that you were crazy ran through his head? Should he apologize for something you weren’t even aware of?

Nah, fuck that.

You gingerly took a seat at the edge of the roof, leaning back on your hands as your legs dangled. Patting the spot next to you invitingly, a soft smile curved on the corners of your mouth as he grumbled but came over anyway. He plopped down on your right side and you took a moment to study him.

He looked exhausted, spirit whittled down to the bone until there was nothing left for him to salvage. His eyes were bloodshot and the beer bottle in his hand probably wasn’t doing any favors for him.

Glancing at him out of the corner of your eyes, you asked worriedly, “You okay?”

He huffed in annoyance at your question.

“Fine.” He ground out through clenched teeth and you shut your mouth.

Bakugou clearly wasn’t looking to talk but you yearned to help. You wanted to be there for him.

Kirishima hadn’t told you much, only that the incident that took Bakugou’s arm happened a long time ago and wasn’t something he liked to relive.

You didn’t push it. You had your own share of traumatic experiences in this god-forsaken place and hated nothing more than being forced to talk about by a well meaning friend. So you understood it well.

Instead of pushing the topic, you sat with him in silence. You didn’t ask why he walked away from the party or why it looked like he was drowning himself in his sorrows to forget something, you just offered him a quiet place to sit, with the company of yours truly.

Fate was flawed. You knew that ever since you were born.

The warped sense of justice that the city had was suffocating. People were put away in prison only to be left to rot with no chance of redemption. Those that made it out were casted out to the underground with no hope to see the light.

Combatants-for-hire wasn’t an unusual job to take on in the ruined city. All Might knew you too had been mixed up in some shit.

But it was what made you strong in the end.

“I’m here.” Was all you said softly, staring out at the city lights that were especially illuminating tonight.

Thanks to the heavy pollution, the stars could no longer be seen with the naked eye so this was the closest thing you could get to those twinkling lights raised high in the sky.

“It’s funny.”

You tilted your head towards him as he spoke and was a bit surprised to find him looking directly back at you with an expression you couldn’t quite decipher.

His eyes were a little dazed, probably from the alcohol, but he looked a little more grounded than he did a minute ago.

Bakugou chuckled but it was short and grated against your ears for a second.

It was mocking.

He tipped his head back, downing the rest of his drink before harshly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand while he crushed the bottle in his metal fist.

Leaning over, he let go and let the shiny crystals plummet to the ground below.

You smiled faintly, watching how they sparkled. It looked so pretty.

Sitting back down, Bakugou mimicked your posture and huffed out a dry laugh. “Out of all the shitty extras in the world, you would be the only one to fucking get through to me.”

Your puzzlement must’ve shown through his alcohol-induced haze because the next thing you knew was that he teetered to the side as he lost control of his equilibrium and careened into you.

Out of reflex, you caught him and gasped at the temperature difference as his cold metal arm pressed against you. You could feel it through the thin fabric of your dress and latched onto it when he moved to pull away.

“Sorry.” Bakugou slurred curtly as he gathered his bearings and tried to detangle you from him.

But his coordination wasn’t the best and he was growing more and more frustrated when you wouldn’t let go.

He snarled. “Let go.”

You shook your head firmly. “You could fall.”

Oh yeah. You two were on the roof.

This was a bad idea.

He didn’t know how he ended up here with you but he needed to leave. Immediately.

Bakugou stumbled to his feet, somehow managing to lose his way halfway to the door and face-planted in something that smelled faintly of lavender. Snuggling into the soft thing that was rubbing against his face, his brow furrowed in annoyance as you giggled at him.

“You have to take me out on a date first if you want that.” You teased lightly and he immediately sat up as he realized he had crashed in your bed.

He scrambled upright, nearly falling over again in his haste. “Fuck, I’m—”

“It’s alright, Katsuki.” You reassured nonchalantly, coming down to sit beside him, but not close enough where your legs were touching.

Bakugou’s mouth twitched at the sound of his first name but his eyes softened the barest bit and he didn’t fight against it.

Before he met you, he hated his name. It was a reminder that the place he came from was from a lab, cooked up like some sort of sick science experiment to fulfill a role in society that was chosen by some prick who had money.

It was a reminder that he wasn’t real. That he was expendable to all those bastards that ran the world.

But when you used it, when you spoke it with such tentative curiosity and genuine concern, he didn’t feel so unimportant anymore.

“Fuck.” Bakugou breathed as you leaned closer to examine his face.

Your forehead creased in worry and you raised a hand to his head to check his temperature to make sure he wasn’t running a fever. “Are you feeling alright?”

Squeaking when he suddenly grabbed your hand, you gasped in shock when he tugged you towards him.

You crashed into his chest and your cheeks flushed hotly as his chiseled form honed from years of training molded against your front.

His arm wrapped around your shoulders and it took a second to realize that his metal arm was planted firmly on the ground, keeping the two of you steady.

But when you reached out your fingers to brush against it, he ripped away from you.

You pulled back immediately, apology weighing in your gaze as your eyes flicked away from him. “I’m sorry, I—”

“It’s fucking hideous.”

You balked at his tenor. “W-What?!”

Bakugou looked away from you, his gaze fixed on the ground behind you as he rested his chin on top of your head, stubbornly refusing to look you in the eye as you breathed steadily against the base of his neck.

You were warm. Delicate.

Precious.

He didn’t expect someone like you to understand.

His vermilion eyes were shadowed by the ghosts of his past that continued to haunt him and he sighed heavily, curling his arm around you tighter. He didn’t want to let you go just let but he didn’t know why you weren’t pushing him away.

Your soft voice rang out. “Katsuki, what do you mean? It’s not hideous at all.”

He clicked his tongue but otherwise didn’t verbalize his disagreement.

“How could someone like you possibly understand this shit?” He spat but you didn’t recoil like he was half hoping you would.

At least then he would have an excuse to leave, under the guise that he had upset you. But you didn’t do any of that.

Too fucking precious. Always saw the good in everything just like that shitty nerd.

You closed your eyes in defeat. “No… I suppose I can’t.”

You didn’t quite understand him.

The bite in his tone sounded like you had hit too close to home, and yet, his thumb was absentmindedly running over the satin of your dress that he had bought you, your side heating up under his chest and warmth bloomed from your heart.

And yet, he wasn’t pushing you away.

Leaning down, you rested your forehead against his shoulder, your heart beating too loud for your own ears. “You don’t have to say anything, but I know what it feels like to be an outcast too.”

Bakugou eyed you cautiously, wondering if this was some sort of trick because he was drunk and definitely not as attentive as normally but your tone was open.

Honest.

“Yeah, maybe you do.” He scoffed, scorning you under his breath. “Maybe you don’t. It doesn’t fucking matter to me.”

“Maybe it doesn’t.” You whispered, tracing patterns on his chest as your head lolled to the side to gaze at him with complete vulnerability. “But just know that you aren’t alone.”

Bakugou whipped his head around as you stared at him. Didn’t you get it already? He didn’t want to fucking taint you with all of this shit that went on down here.

He didn’t want to tell you that he had to settle tinkering with whatever scrap metal he could find in the junkyard just to make his left arm operational again, didn’t want to tell you that the government had offered him a real replacement prosthetic but at the cost of becoming one of their combatants fighting in a war he never chose and as a result, he was casted to the side when something went wrong.

He had lost everything.

The second he had been tossed out on the street, he had come crawling back to Kiko, a spunky little girl a part of the UA orphanage in the east, one of the ones that Mic funneled money towards to fund their food and supply them with fresh water every three days.

The girl, no more than ten at the time, with her dirty blonde pigtails sticking out on either side of her lopsided head, had been born with a unique appearance.

The officials called it a defect, as though they were talking about an object of mass production.

Fucking disgusting.

It never seemed to bother the girl though, and she often claimed that she was tougher than all those men in fancy suits. Bakugou liked her spirit already.

Kiko had had this habit of tracing her stubby little fingers all over the scars from his fights whenever he came to visit and it had been her idea to forgo a realistic prosthetic from the corporation that was looking to hire him and just go out, full badass, just like Bucky in the Winter Soldier.

It was her favorite movie but Bakugou claimed he had absolutely no idea where she learned that kind of language from.

He had chuckled and patted her on the head at the time, swearing to hell and back that there was no fucking way he was going to build a metal arm. He would scare the kids if he did that, not to mention, full-grown adults.

But Kiko simply bounded over to him and beamed up at him like nothing was wrong in the world. It was fucking contagious, begging for him to at least consider it, selling the point of how cool it would look.

“You would be a superhero, Bakugou!!” She cheered, raising her hands up high, demanding for him to lift her up even though she wasn’t five anymore. “And you could save everybody, just like you want to!!”

He never got a chance to show her the finished product. Would she have liked it? Would she run around, screaming in his shitty apartment as she played with it when he detached it for cleaning? Would she try to hit him over the head with it when she thought he wasn’t looking like the cheeky brat he knew that she was?

Bakugou could hear her squeals of excitement so vividly some nights that he woke up from his terror of that night, soaked in cold sweat from a memory of the girl he had failed to save.

Defeated and overwhelmed by his circumstances after being rejected by the very people who sought him out because of his talent, he had ventured to the orphanage that night and on a whim, demanded her to live with him. He would take care of her, protect her, teach her things that she couldn’t learn from anyone else.

The widest smile he had ever seen stretched across Kiko’s face and she accepted his demands with eyes tearing up with joy.

He vowed to protect her.

He failed.

He had an unsettled score with the government officials he had upset on his way out from the lab that day they told him he had been scraped from the program.

The enraged fighter went on a rampage, tearing down anything in his path and clearing out the experiment rooms, offering freedom and a second chance to anyone willing and brave enough to take it.

And as a result, many took him up on his offer and fled that place with white walls and food too bland to actually be considered nutritious.

There was no doubt about it. He pissed them off the day he saved the others.

They had come for her and taken her last year on his birthday as revenge for freeing those they were experimenting on. He found a crumpled, poorly wrapped, newspaper covered package lost in the clutter of his apartment when he got home.

The creaking old door that kept out winter drafts had caved in, signifying that it had broken in with considerable force, and Kiko was gone.

That crushed gift hidden under the stairwell was the only thing that remained of her.

Inside, there was a small metal pin in the shape of an explosion. For his personality. Corny, but the little girl was simple-minded and liked the sentiment she found in things that she repurposed.

Bakugou always thought it was fucking weird but he hadn’t taken it off ever since that day.

The metal plates of his arm glided, clinking together softly as the polished steel lifted to trace your jaw, the pin visible on the inside of his wrist.

To keep her close to him always.

He had stormed their stronghold but by the time he got there, they were gone. Everything.

Every vial, all the equipment, every single one of the samples and officials had disappeared into thin air.

Bakugou had tried everything to track Kiko down, paying off the highest crime organizations to get more eyes out on the street but nothing worked. She was gone.

And she wasn’t ever going to come back.

You were silent when he finished telling you his depressing life story, sure you were bored to death but when he started to get up, he found that he couldn’t get very far with you draped over his body like this.

Bakugou had a fleeting thought that you had fallen asleep while he had been lamenting and rehashing every depressing detail from his past but he noticed the stuttering rise and fall of your back.

Well, at least you weren’t asleep, but now he didn’t know how to feel when he had told you all of that and you had yet to say anything.

“I know you don’t want pity.” You whispered into his shoulder.

He raised an eyebrow but waited for you to continue.

“I know there’s nothing that I can say that would make the pain go away or bring Kiko back,” You said softly. “But I’m here for you.”

Bakugou pressed his cheek against your hair and inhaled your sweet scent, closing his eyes as an unseen weight lifted from off of his shoulders.

“Thank you.” He murmured quietly with great difficulty.

You smiled slightly, glad that you were able to provide him with a little bit of comfort. “Anytime.”

The two of you stayed entwined for a few more moments, time stretching as he held onto you, soaking up your soothing presence while you relaxed against his hold.

“Katsuki?” You called quietly when he still didn’t let go after five more minutes.

Tightening his arm around you, he frowned when you struggled in his grip.

“Stop fucking moving.” He demanded and you ceased fighting in favor of pulling back to flick him on the forehead. “Oi, did you just fucking flick me?!”

“Yes.” You replied bluntly, snickering when he rolled his eyes.

There he was.

Bakugou protested hotly when you pushed down his arms to untangle from him but you shushed him with a giggle, leaning back to open the box of beer by your bed, grabbing two bottles and fishing for something from underneath your pillow

In the underground city where liquor was the only thing that was plentiful, you would take what you could get.

Bakugou caught the beer that you threw at him in midair with an expression a mix between annoyance that you tossed it at his face and gratitude that you knew how he needed another drink after that tale.

“What the fuck is that for?” He scoffed, pointing to the roll of gauze in your hand. “You get a papercut or some shit?”

You rolled your eyes in disbelief, failing to notice how his eyes raked over you to look for any kind of injury you might be hiding from him, and held it up to him. “No, but it looks like you did.”

He almost spilled his beer that he just popped the lid off of, mouth furrowing in a deep-seated frown when he followed your gaze and landed on the cuts on his knuckles from the fight that happened earlier that night.

“Fuck.” He cursed, setting down the beer hard to wipe up the blood.

He hadn’t even known when he got hurt.

But he didn’t even get started on tending to it when your gentle hands wrapped around his and you took over for him.

“Here.” You murmured, pouring some water onto a clean cloth and dabbing carefully at his cuts. “Let me.”

“You’re fucking weird.” Bakugou grumbled but allowed you to take over.

Your touch was so much lighter than the rough pads of his fingers. He was always too impatient whenever he had to patch himself up, jerking at the bandages to get them to lay flat when they wouldn’t cooperate.

It was a fucking pain to stop the bleeding when his shitty fingers fumbled with it. It was a trip to hell and back every single time he had to attend to wounds he got from boxing.

Your nose scrunched up in concentration as you finished cleaning the area before securely wrapping the soft cotton around his knuckles.

“There.” You declared in satisfaction, sitting back on your knees.

Admiring your handiwork with an unreadable expression, it was a second before Bakugou nodded begrudgingly with thanks.

“It’s not complete shit.”

You giggled. “Thanks.”

He picked back up his drink and took a swig.

Offering up yours, you hid your surprise when he actually recognized the gesture and clinked his glass against yours.

The distinct hum from the music in the establishment below filtered up to the roof, filling the silence and the occasional echo of steel grating against each other. The low lights were pleasant and the ambiance was soothing as you two drank away the night.

You shivered, catching a chill as the night air blew by, but before you could reach for your blanket, Bakugou was tucking you in his side.

“Get over here, dumbass.” He mumbled, turning his face away so that you wouldn’t see his blush. “You’re gonna get fucking sick.”

You noticed how he still kept your metal arm away from you. That wound was still too fresh and somehow you had a feeling that no matter how much time would pass, things would never quite be the same again.

Playing with the hem of your dress, you smiled softly. “But I wanted to wear it today, it was a special occasion.”

Special occasion his ass. It was fucking freezing out here and all you were wearing was that summer dress. His brow knitted as you puffed out your cheeks, breath visible, and he wasn’t so sure he wanted to leave you out here when it was so cold out.

“I’m sorry.” Bakugou apologized quietly as you lost interest in toying with the pale blue satin and folded your hands neatly in your lap.

At your questioning gaze, he suppressed the urge to roll his eyes but heat crept up his neck.

“For storming out on the celebration you planned, dumbass.” He grumbled, flicking you on the forehead in a similar fashion hat you had done earlier.

Whining, you held onto your forehead as you made an exaggeration of pain. He rolled his eyes at your antics and you giggled, snuggling further into his side.

“You’re warm.” You mused.

Bakugou scowled, cheeks still pink from the embarrassment tingling through his whole body. “Oi, are you fucking ignoring m—”

“Of course not.” You retorted, pinching his side in retaliation for the flick he gave you before your voice dropped a little. “It’s just— There isn’t anything you need to apologize for. I understand.”

Those words, they were so simple and yet, warmth bloomed in his chest from how they fell from your lips.

And he could see that you were truly genuine.

He had rejected your kindness earlier when Kirishima had told him you had planned out all of this for him. He had never quite been accustomed to generously that lacked a price or some kind of condition.

Then again, he had never met someone quite like you.

As you rested against his shoulder, Bakugou took the empty beer bottle from you and placed it on the other side of him so that you didn’t break it and cut yourself when you woke up from your little nap.

He gazed out into the city that had caused him so much misery and wondered how it was even possible for someone like you to exist.

Birthdays, he still hated them, but maybe, just maybe, he could start to heal.

It would start by telling that old man that you fucking needed a new place to sleep that wasn’t the goddamn roof.

It was a good thing he knew just the place you could go.

Brushing back the hair out of your eyes, he allowed a small smile to form on his face as you breathed softly, evenly and he smirked against the top of your head as a thought crossed his mind. And even though he knew you couldn’t hear him, he still murmured quietly.

“How do you feel about seagulls and sand, princess?”

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helpistolethesecharacters · 3 years

Text

Death Does Not Discriminate Between the Sinners and the Saints

Part 1

Tony Stark x Male Demon Reader

Word Count: 3361

This is for the amazing @charliedakotariley who keeps absolutely making my day with all the sweet things they say.

This one is a bit angsty, but there is fantastic tooth rotting fluff at the end for anyone who gets that far. Keep yourselves safe and don't read anything that will make you go down a bad path.

Warnings: The title kind of says it, we are going to be dealing with the concept of a loved one dying in this. NO-ONE ACTUALLY DIES.

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

Y/n had known for months now that something was wrong with Tony. They had gotten past the hurdle of Tony's new self-consciousness thanks to the arc reactor that was a part of him now, or at least Y/n thought they had. He had spent weeks reassuring Tony (in and out of bed) that he still found him attractive.

Of course, the rest of the world would be surprised to see Tony Stark be self-conscious about anything, but they didn't know him like Y/n did. He found Tony's public persona to be hilarious. As a literal demon he loved to watch Tony wind up anyone who thought they could get under his skin.

That had been a surprise to Y/n. He had approached Tony at a party one night for a little bit of fun. Hey, he wasn't about to censure himself, he was a demon. Fun was what he did best.

As cliche as it is, Y/n hadn't expected to fall for the dashing young man so many years before. He sighed for at least the tenth time that night. They had been together for years and still no-one had connected the dots.

'Friends my ass,' Y/n snorted as he thought back to that latest tabloid headline, 'or Tony's ass, as the case may be.'

The problem right now was that Tony was avoiding him. Y/n watched disinterestedly as Tony got eye-wateringly drunk at his birthday party.

Y/n was long over the days where all chaos was his preferred fun. That had stopped when he fell properly for the billionaire. He much preferred it when the chaos didn't stem from his boyfriend getting drunk, putting on his Iron Man suit and proceeding to destroy large parts of his home.

Pepper stood beside him looking equal parts furious and worried. She was alternating between biting her fingernails and sighing in frustration. She looked up at the much taller man.

"Isn't there anything you can do to stop him Y/n?"

Y/n's expression soured.

"No, he hasn't told me what's bugging him. He hasn't even looked at me once tonight."

That was when Rhodey came busting in wearing one of Tony's other suits. For a minute Y/n considered getting between them, but then he decided that if Tony couldn't be bothered to even talk to him, then he could get out of his own mess.

It wasn't until Y/n was back in his own apartment staring out into the darkness of the night sky that he realised what it was that had been bugging him.

Tony smelled like death.

----------

Y/n was a man of many talents. As a demon, he had lived for over a hundred years, all the while, seemingly never aging a day. He had been all over the world and met (and ruined) many amazing people. (Thank the devil for the light telepathic abilities he had that allowed him to make people see him as human looking. Well, at least more human than he really was.)

He had never once been in love. Until Tony. Y/n was starting to regret not getting closer to other humans over the years, because now he had no idea how to deal with the idea of Tony dying.

What was he going to do? He was a demon, they lived for over a thousand years at least. That was like the lowest natural age to die for a demon. He couldn't live the rest of his life without Tony, he was his everything.

That pulled Y/n up short. When had he fallen so low as to be so affected by the death of a lowly human? But that lowly human was Tony, his adorable chaos-creating boyfriend. He wasn't even dead yet, but Y/n was already acting like he was gone.

A glimmer of a thought flickered through Y/n's head.

There had to be something he could do, instead of sitting back and letting this happen. Tony could NOT die. Y/n wouldn't let it happen, no matter who had to fall in his place.

'How do you stop the death of someone who doesn't even know they are dying. If only there was a google search for something like this.'

Y/n grinned manically. They had healers in Asgard. Some of the best in the universe. He had heard whispers of paths between the realms here on Earth. Heck, he had even used some of them himself, how else did you think he got here in the first place?

Y/n's face set in determination. He could do this. He would stop Tony from dying even if it meant his own death.

He wasn't a demon for nothing after all.

-----------

Getting into Asgard shouldn't have been that easy Y/n lamented as he stepped out into the lush forest that surrounded the portal. He was pretty sure that there was supposed to be some all powerful, all seeing God that watched over the realms. Y/n wasn't sure what to do about that, but figured that if there wasn't a squad of Asgardian guards waiting to arrest/remove him on arrival then he must not be a valid concern.

Y/n bared his teeth at the thought. He considered letting his perception field fall and making a big dramatic entrance, but let it go.

'For Tony.'

Y/n walked as carefully as he could through the forest. It wouldn't do to get all tattered and look even more suspicious than he already would.

Luckily it didn't take more than an hour to get to the edge of the forest, and even more luckily it bordered on the golden city itself.

Y/n stopped to take in the grandeur of the city of Asgard and thought that he must be the only demon to have ever set foot in this realm. How ironic that he wasn't even there to try to destroy it like so many of his kin had dreamed of doing.

No one really paid Y/n much mind as he made his way into the city proper. It turned out Asgardians were taller than humans generally speaking, so Y/n actually fit in better here than on Earth where he just about towered over everyone.

He even saw a couple of other people with skin as pale as his was, and the same white hair. No one had eyes like his though. Y/n knew that his eyes looked like the lava that covered so much of his home realm. They even glowed if he got too emotional.

This realm was so much more open. The streets were wider, there was so much more room to move than on Earth. Y/n was starting to feel like a tourist, gaping at every little thing in the city. That wouldn't help him in blending in, but he couldn't help it. He had the sudden urge to see if he could do a full spin and not knock anything over.

That had been one of the hardest things to unlearn when he first made it to Earth. His long armored tail was pretty unwieldy in such tight enclosed spaces, so he had had to learn to balance all over again with his tail tucked closer to his body. Unfortunately his perception field only changed how people saw him, so if they tripped over his tail and really looked to see what had tripped them, they sometimes saw what he really looked like. Luckily for him, they were usually written off as insane or, as one really unlucky woman found, it was written off as women's hysteria.

Y/n reined that thought back in and tucked it away for later. If he got out of this alive he would think about it later.

Y/n was sure that the best healers would work in the palace, but that would mean trying to sneak in and abscond with a royal physician. That would be noticed much more quickly, and would be met with a much harsher response.

Y/n set his shoulders back in determination. He would just have to be incredibly convincing, or this would go sideways much too quickly.

'Well,' Y/n thought grimly, 'at least that would solve the problem of watching Tony die slowly.'

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

The palace was quiet. This was just too odd. Something supernatural must be at work here.

Y/n was starting to freak out. He had made his way into the palace totally unhindered, and even his admittedly amazing luck had never been that good.

He slunk around another corner, still on high alert. Which was why he didn't miss the shimmer in the air that meant something else was in this space with him.

Y/n shot out an arm at it, aiming for the same height as his own neck.

His hand caught around a slimmer neck than his own, and he tightened his grip to almost unbearable for a demon. He wasn't about to underestimate the people of Asgard.

The stories of Asgardians from back on his own realm lauded them as incredibly strong and fast, and able to live as long as demons themselves.

The Asgardian struggled fiercely for a moment, but when it became apparent that Y/n was stronger than them, they slumped and dropped whatever incantation had allowed them to be invisible.

They appeared to be male, and around the same age as Y/n, but then, so had Tony when they had first met.

Y/n shoved the man away from him hard, and took up a fighting stance.

The other man sputtered and heaved in deep breaths to make up for his previous lack, thanks to Y/n. He looked pretty pathetic, laying against the wall, black hair falling over his face, which was red from lack of air.

"Why have you brought me here mage?"

The man looked up, affecting a surprised expression.

"What makes you think I have brought you here? Are you not an assassin, here to remove either the King or Crown Prince? Both are in the throne room, if you were interested."

Y/n remained in his stance, passive.

"I have the feeling that you know why I'm here already."

The man pulled himself up at last.

"Fine, I might have sensed you when you first stepped foot in our realm. I must say, I haven't seen anyone from Helheim before. Whatever are you doing here, a place that some have dubbed the promised land, home of the Gods?"

"You don't half think highly of yourself, do you?"

The man's response is a sneer.

"I need help."

Y/n stood up from his stance. It didn't feel like this man was going to attack him, and he could hardly ask for help much less receive it while preparing to attack.

He definitely gave off an odd vibe, but it wasn't an 'I'm about to kill you and all of your family just for breathing near me' vibe.

The man looked positively delighted.

"A demon of Helheim needs help," He crowed. "What can I, the humble Loki of Asgard, do to help you Oh Great Demon of Helheim?"

Y/n's left eye twitched, but he reigned himself in once again. Just because Loki seemed like he would benefit from a good smack upside the head, that didn't make it his job to deliver it.

"My, paramour, is in need of a healer. We do not have the ability to heal him, and I will not see his life ended without every attempt having been made to save it."

Loki apparently noticed the pause at the beginning of my request.

"My, my, what type of paramour could you possibly have that would warrant such a delicately put request? Surely not another demon, I thought you were nigh on indestructible?"

He was wandering around Y/n now, getting closer in his circling, all the better to whisper intimidatingly in his ear.

"Perhaps, to be in such desperate need of rescue that you, a demon, would risk everything by coming here of all places, your 'paramour' is something a little more frail?"

Y/n took it back, Loki was pure evil. He grit his teeth and squashed the urge to deck him in his smug face.

"Me thinks, perhaps, something so frail as, a human?"

They stood face to face in silence.

"Your silence speaks volumes my dear."

Y/n lost the battle. With a cry of outrage that came from somewhere deep inside he leapt at the smug God and prepared to smash his stupid face into pieces.

Shockingly his fist simply went through Loki's face. The image rippled and flickered out as it did so.

It flickered back into place beside him.

He spun into a roundhouse kick and the God went down.

"Stop! Dammit, just stop!"

'Some God,' thought Y/n.

"I was sent to get you."

Y/n was done with these so-called Gods and their mind games.

"What do you mean you were sent to get me? Spit it out!"

Loki looked up and glared at Y/n from his position on the floor.

"You were Seen. The moment you stepped foot into Asgard Heimdall Saw you and reported it to the All-Father. Luckily for you Queen Frigga Saw that you weren't here to attack, and that you only sought our help. I was sent to collect you and bring you to her rooms."

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

The Queen turned out to be much sweeter than Y/n had assumed. He had heard stories of course, but how much could be believed from the daughter who was banished to Helheim?

"Y/n, come, sit. How was your trip dear?"

Y/n was confused. She was acting like they were old friends. As far as he knew he had never met the Queen of Asgard before.

"Ma'am, I'm here for aid. My partner is not long for our home realm. I could smell death on him."

Y/n looked at the ground and clenched his hands into fists.

"I can't lose him. I thought once before that he was gone for good, but he fought tooth and nail to come back to me. Now I am having to sit and watch as something pulls him ever closer to deaths waiting arms. Please, I'll do anything, but please, heal him."

Y/n knew he was begging, but what else could be done. He had thought maybe he could intimidate a regular healer into healing Tony. After that was hazy, but he had been prepared to do anything that would be necessary to make Tony better.

This was not going to plan. He couldn't do anything to make the Queen decide to help him, he would just have to appeal to her softer side.

Frigga knelt by Y/n's side and softly took one of his hands in hers. Her eyes softened as she took in the genuine distress on Y/n's face.

"There is nothing to be done dear. No, don't panic, your loved one is fine. You were right, he was dying, but events have conspired to keep Tony Stark alive. Something needs him still alive, and I am talking about something bigger than you or I. He lives, and at this moment is going just a little bit more out of his mind than normal in his search for you."

Y/n was on his feet and by the door before Frigga had even finished speaking.

"Wait!"

Y/n turned, not wanting to waste another second when he knew that Tony was looking for him, but not able to be disrespectful of the one who had given him hope back.

"Eventually, when you are both ready for that next step, come back and bring your partner. I can organise for one of Idunn's golden apples. You can grow old together."

Tears gathered in Y/n's eyes at the offer.

"But, why? I'm a demon. Tony is a human. Neither of us are anything special. Why are you offering this to us?"

Frigga smiled, beautiful but so broken.

"Because you remind me of someone. So passionate and loyal to the ones who you love that you are willing to flatten entire realms."

Y/n didn't know what to say to that, so he turned back to face Frigga fully. He bowed from the waist to her.

"Thank you Queen Frigga of Asgard. I am in your debt."

Y/n heard her words spoken softly as he left, not entirely for his ears.

"Will you ever forgive us, my dear daughter?"

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

Tony was broken. He had thought that the lowest he could get was knowing that he was dying from something that was supposed to be saving his life.

He was wrong. When he had finally come up for air after the whole thing with his arc reactor, Shield and the Hammer Fiasco as he was calling it, he had realised that he hadn't seen Y/n since his disastrous birthday.

He had searched for what felt like forever. Not even Jarvis could find any mention of Y/n anywhere in the world. It was like he had dropped off the face of the planet.

Tony was now spending his time in his boyfriends apartment. He was sure that when he finally came back from wherever he had been, this was one of the first places he would go. He loved his boyfriend, but they were both equally as vain as the other. Any big dramatic entrance back into Tony's life would need to be planned out meticulously by Y/n. So he was sure if he just waited in his apartment he would see him again.

He was not wrong, he realised with rising hope as he heard the door swing open. He poked his head up over the back of Y/n's couch, hair a mess, goatee completely unkempt, knowing that he was wearing rumpled clothes that hadn't been washed in a few days.

In short, he was the only thing that Y/n wanted to see when he got home.

They collided with a slightly painful thump, banging limbs into each other, but not caring in the slightest.

"Oh God, Y/n, I'm so sorry! I--"

"Tony! Thank God you're alright!"

They fell into hysterics at this. Both knew that it wasn't funny at all, but after all the stress they had been through lately, simply being in each others arms was the most amazing feeling in the world.

Neither of them wanted to move, but common sense won out in the end, and they found themselves on the couch some time later.

They had pulled a soft blanket out of somewhere and where wrapped up together, totally unwilling to move for as long as possible.

"I was so scared when I realised you were dying. Why didn't you tell me?"

Tony had never heard Y/n so quiet before. He sighed heavily.

"I wanted to, but then whenever I tried to tell anyone, it wouldn't come out. It was never the right time, and then I realised that I didn't want anyone's last memories of me to be clouded with the knowledge that I was going to die soon. You especially. I didn't want you to have to carry that around, that I was dying and there was nothing you could have done about it."

They were silent for a while after that.

"Maybe that makes me selfish, but I couldn't bear the thought of adding to the hurt you were already going to feel when it happened. God, I'm so sorry."

Y/n just pulled Tony in closer, wrapped him up a little tighter into his arms.

"It's okay, but next time, tell me. I know you remember that I'm a demon. You have the best memory in the world. Next time you have some unsolvable problem, let me in. There might be something I can do that you can't, but even if there isn't, we would still shoulder that problem together. There's nothing I would rather do, than try to help lighten the load."

Tony was crying now, he could feel the tears dripping openly down his face, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"I love you, so much it hurts. Never leave me."

"I will always love you Tony. You've changed me irrevocably. If there ever was a point where I could have turned away from you, if was long ago. You're never getting rid of me now."

#Tony Stark x male reader #Male reader #iron man #tony stark #Iron man 2 #Loki #Death does not discriminate between the sinners and the saints

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obeymeluv · 4 years

Text

Random Spooky Thing

Something spooky I thought about. I don’t know what really got me thinking about it besides spooky season and the fact that the boys are 5,000+ years old and have probably made secret friends/lovers with a few non-RAD humans over the years.

This is pre-RAD program, post-fall. Boys are still probably at odds with their new demon instincts or have just barely settled into them.

Trigger warning for scary situation. Namely: almost being a legit sacrifice for a demon summoning.

I also have personal headcanons that the bros used to be Avatars in heaven, but for the trait opposite of their sin (Lucifer would be humility, Mammon would be charity/giving, Asmodeus would be love (I guess?), Satan doesn’t count because I don’t think he was in the Celestial Realm when it all happened (based on where I’m at in the game). Beel championed a good harvest/abundance. and Belphegor had the blessing of reinforcement/encouragement/inspiration/productivity)

Lucifer’s got unexpectedly long so this part will have Lucifer and Mammon only. I have to study for exams and stuff TT_TT

Lucifer:

The concept of being summoned by dark magic is very foreign and forceful. He hates it, and he hates that this is what his life is now

There was a certain beseeching vulnerability to humans when they prayed - it was soft and glowing and he misses it

This is a rough yank, like he’s nothing more than a petulant child that needs to be dragged around. Or worse, some dog.

He spills out into the human world and it smells of smoke and brimstone and ground ingredients he’s starting to get familiar with

Lucifer’s used to being intimidating in an angelic way, but he can feel the magic spill off of him here. He can feel his aura manifest into something dark and terrifying.

His eyes now glow in the dark; he can see a reflection of them in the humans’ eyes.

They give a very archaic, overdone address (”O’ great Lucifer...”) and he doesn’t even let them finish before he’s scoffing.

The fall may have broken his wings and shattered his reality, but he’s still fairly arrogant and ready to lash out

There’s a beautiful smell that makes his stomach ache something ungodly now that he’s a demon, and Lucifer realizes with abject horror that a wounded human is somewhere in this room

Celestial Realm or not, his eyes still have the ability to see human souls and intentions. There seems to be a lamb among these idiotic wolves

He sees that dagger rise, the muffled wail enough to pierce his ear and Lucifer snarls as he snatches that hilt in an iron grip

It’s enough to break the human’s grip and send his hands down the dagger, spilling rancid blood

“If you wish to summon me, do it with your own blood. Lay yourself before me and beg.” he says in a voice that is so grating and booming that it makes him flinch a little

His voice was never like this in the Celestial Realm and it makes him angry that it will never be angelically velvety again. Just something semi-twisted and possible of corruption

Perhaps because of the blood or the injustice, Lucifer throws out his wings and punishes the mortal for their insolence. Then the others who try to dogpile him and throw their books at him and shout words that have no meaning.

His grip now crushes things, and he forgets. Pinching is basically stabbing. A shove is basically a fracture.

You’re sobbing uncontrollably when he approaches where you’re being held and Lucifer realizes that he looks a sight. Truly frightening. He never had these murderous impulses as an angel and still surprises himself when he falls to them. They’re still so new!

“Be not afraid,” the words are comforting but fuzzy. They feel foreign on his tongue. He pets your hair. “I shall do you no harm.”

He has to remind himself that he’s so much stronger in this form, tugging and ripping at the rope while trying not to break your little limbs.

You have this resigned trust, this hope, this faith that he will keep his word and it makes him miss humans. Makes him miss Lilith and how he’d catch her and Belphie sneaking around to watch them.

You ask him if he’s really Lucifer, like that Lucifer. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he is. Instead he says, “I am the Morning Star.” and insists on taking you home.

He will guide you home, the bringer of light.

You hug him and it’s the first burst of warmth--genuine warmth--he’s felt since the fall. “Thank you, Lucifer.”

He’s called back by a greater force--Lord Diavolo--and prefers to forget the whole thing happened. That he ate people. That they almost hurt you.

He secretly checks in on you from time to time but doesn’t have the courage to talk to you again.

Every time he looks at you, he’s emotionally drained for the rest of the day. He’s starting to understand what Lilith felt so strongly about and it just makes that gaping wound that much deeper.

He drowns his guilt in Demonus and damns his hypocrisy.

Mammon

He hates being summoned because it burns like when he fell

It reminds him of his body screaming in pain as he adamantly tried to hold onto his Holy Weapons during the fall. His body converted during the fall and Holy Weapons are sheer agony for demons.

The burns on his hands were deep and tender and took days to heal. He doesn’t even remember how he broke his wing, but he knows it drags and its lame. It can’t unfold as well as the other one.

Being summoned just leaves a bad taste in his mouth because he disagrees with being cast out, in general. Seems like some of those angels were morally corrupt, not them! How could what he and the others did be considered wrong?!

Mammon hates the fact that turning into a demon really ripped the veil off his eyes. He used to be a symbol of charity and giving, bringing joy to people, and now he just sees how nasty they are on the inside. Scummy, scummy people.

“What’s your business with the GREAT Mammon, hm? I’m a busy guy, ya know.” he stuffs his hands in his pockets as he looks disinterestedly around the room.

Dull souls, the lot of ‘em. Not a nice smell in the bunch! Some shiny bits and bobs he might take for his time, though.

Sometimes he bites his own tongue to try and fight off the demonic powers that converted him. To get his brain back on track. He doesn’t WANT to be so blunt and careless, so trained on shiny things. but it’s like he can’t help it!

It burns in his soul and sometimes he can hear his old self, his old ways, fizzling out like his wings as they disintegrated not long ago

The dumb humans start ranting about sacrifice and exchange and Mammon stops them cold, louder than them. It’s mostly the ‘older brother’ voice but he forgets that a demon is just scary to humans.

“Not really interested. What else ya got?”

No one expects that. He can tell. They take the thing off your head as if that will change his mind and something about the shininess of you catches his eye. Makes him feel kind of like a puppy.

Is it your soul? Your earrings? The genuine innocence of a human? How glittery your tears look?

He knocks them aside with his wings, stomps over to you, and picks you up (chair and all).

They start yipping about how he technically accepted the deal and how he needs to do their bidding or grant them a favor. “Hang tight, sweets,” Mammon sets your chair down before pointing out every technicality on how the deal wasn’t finished and the terms weren’t agreed upon.

Technically they just summoned him; they didn’t complete a pact ritual

“I’m takin’ that--he points to you--just because I can!” Mammon laughs at the dumb little humans. “You guys didn’t do your homework! I’m the Avatar of Greed!”

One of them tries to sneak around behind him and stab you (like that will change anything?!) and Mammon notices. He grabs the one in front of him by the face, throws him into the one by you, and just starts swinging

He doesn’t kill them, but he DOES raid their pockets of shiny things and interesting things.

Mammon takes the knife, the weird clasps off their ensembles, and breaks the chair to set you free. Debates on taking the screws, but tosses them over his shoulder (not good enough)

As an act of good will, you’re recruited to pillage this lame location they picked

He gets you home with a spell, some kind of homing magic, and just stands there looking at you quietly. He didn’t really look after humans like Belphie and Lilith did so he’s not sure what to do

The urge to comfort is strong but the genteel pat is corrupted by the desire to feel your earring between his fingers. Some guttural demon noise of glee comes out of him and it makes him embarrassed. He never used to make noises like that...

You unhook your earrings with a tentativeness that reminds him of the humans who left offerings at his alter, fretting over if they were good enough and wondering what they would bring.

You fold his big, tan fingers over the earrings and Mammon holds onto them for a while after he finds his way back to the Devildom. It’s his first gift as a demon.

He ignores getting yelled at and the little brothers pestering him about why he smells good, telling him that they’re hungry. and all their other little gripes.

Mammon never goes looking for you after that, trying to fill the ache in his soul with time and money and fame (oddly?) but he thinks of you often. He keeps your earrings in a special box at the front of his magic-locked hoard room. On his bad days, he’ll go sit in that empty room of knickknacks, open the box, and stare.

He picks up the little things, careful not to break them with his nails or strength. “You’re one silly human, aren’t you?” he smiles at the twinkling jewelry.

#Obey me!#Obey me! x Reader #Obey me! Lucifer #Lucifer x Reader #Mammon x Reader #Obey me! Mammon #Lucifer #Mammon

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babycracker · 3 years

Text

Fire Meet Gasoline: Chapter 5

chapter rating: teen & up story rating: explicit pairing: morgan/m!oc (tanner drake) & farah/f!oc (sadie kennedy) word count: ~2.7k chapter warnings: none story warnings: eventual smut, canon-typical violence, au - canon divergent

read it on ao3 here

This is so far from ideal, being stuck in the city with this jackass. Morgan glances over at him as they walk side by side, just as Tanner sits a cigarette between his lips and lights it up.

"I'm not any happier about this than you, trust me," he says suddenly without looking at her, his eyes instead darting between the piece of paper that he'd taken back from her when they'd got here and the buildings lining the street.

It's relatively empty right now, but the sun is starting to set and with the shadows and the orange and pink hues that stretch across the shop fronts and sidewalk comes obvious preparations for what looks to be a very busy night life.

Chairs are being moved outside to accommodate alfresco dinners and ropes are going up out the front of nightclubs, several of the neon signs already flickering to life. Morgan really does not want to be here when-

"I assume you're gonna want to be out of here before all this kicks off?" he says her own thoughts out loud back to her, and she stares at him in surprise for a moment before nodding.

"Yeah."

He gives only a short nod in response before nodding up ahead. "There's a motel up here, we can check the bar out tomorrow."

She trails along beside him, surprised that he's being so considerate, yet too grateful that she's not going to have to deal with the lights and noise of the city once the nightlife’s in full swing to question it.

By the time they reach the hotel he's talking about, it's obvious to her that he's been here before. More than once. She watches as he flirts his way around the fact that they don't have a booking with the man behind the counter, then turns to flash her their key card with a grin on his face.

"You want a gold star or something?" she grumbles as he walks back over to her, eager to get away from the bright lights of the lobby.

"If you're offering, I wouldn't object," his grin grows wider, and she rolls her eyes before snatching the card from him and stalking away towards the lift.

"I'm bored," Tanner complains, slouching so low on the couch that he may as well be laying down, tie hanging loosely down either side of his chest, jacket discarded and shirt half open.

Morgan looks away from the reality show they're watching, trying not to let her gaze linger on what she can see of his bare chest as she rolls her eyes at him. "Go to bed."

"That's boring."

If she'd known she was going to have to babysit the bloody guy she might have put up more of a fight about being sent away with him.

"If I could stand you a little more, I might offer to join you," she smirks at him and he narrows his eyes at her.

"Pass," he sits up suddenly, starting to button his shirt again. "I'm going out."

She scowls at his nonchalant dismissal of her offer, starting to grow tired of it. She should be used to it by now, she should’ve already given up. But he shows some interest, sometimes. Just enough to keep her thinking that there might be a chance, and what can she say? She loves a challenge.

"You can't," she protests, and he raises an eyebrow at her as he fixes his tie.

"You gonna stop me?"

She rolls her eyes again, "don't get drunk and don't bring anyone back here."

"You jealous?" he grins at her, and she huffs out a sigh and turns the television off.

"Of your ability to get drunk? Very,” she answers disinterestedly as she pulls her jacket on, pausing when she sees him watching her. “What? I’m coming with you.”

“Why?”

“To make sure you don’t do anything stupid.”

“I’m not a child.”

“Don’t act like one and you won’t get treated like one,” she snaps back at him as he pulls his jacket on, and he just chuckles and holds an arm out to her as though he expects her to hook hers in with it.

“Shall we?” he asks, nothing but laughter in his voice as she stares at his arm in what could almost pass as disgust.

She slaps his arm away and stalks out into the hall ahead of him. “I’m not one of your bimbos.”

“You’d have to get in my pants to be one of my bimbos,” he answers from behind her, and she doesn’t even bother to spare him a glance over her shoulder, let alone answer him.

“I can feel you staring, you know,” she informs him once they’ve made it out onto the street without bothering to look back at him, and he grins and jogs a couple of steps to catch up and walk beside her.

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it.”

“No one’s pretending, sweetheart,” she answers distractedly as they get closer to the nightclubs they’d seen being set up earlier and she catches him frowning at her in the corner of her eye.

“You good?” he asks, and she rolls her eyes.

“I don’t need you to pretend you give a shit.”

He doesn’t answer, to her surprise, but after a moment he slings an arm around her shoulder and pulls her in close to him, turning her down a side street and away from the noise and the bright lights.

She doesn’t want to admit it, even to herself, and she’s definitely not about to tell him, but being tucked into his side like this is somewhat grounding. The sounds and the smells start to fade away as she focuses on the feel of being pressed against him and his firm grip on her shoulder. It somehow makes everything else around them a little less overwhelming.

The background distractions finally fade away enough for her to realise that she’s not in a position she wants to be in, and she shrugs his arm off and gives him a small shove away from her. “Alright, don’t get comfortable.”

They make their way through a few more small streets, barely more than alleys, coming to stop at a rundown building, the quiet murmur of voices filtering through the partly splintered wooden door.

"If you're planning to try and kill me you better have brought your A-game," she tells him, giving him a pointed glare before turning back towards the door.

He chuckles lightly and pushes the door open, pressing himself against it to make room for her to reluctantly sidestep past him into what she now sees is a pub.

It's dark, only a few dull lights dotted through the entire building, just enough to make it possible for humans to make their way around. Dark and quiet. There's background music playing, but it's so quiet that she's sure she'd barely hear it without her heightened senses.

The other patrons are gathered in small groups in booths, talking quietly amongst themselves. None of them even seem to notice Morgan and Tanner as they make their way over to the bar.

There are no pool tables, no dart boards, no nothing, and Morgan can't help but shoot Tanner a questioning glance as she slips onto a bar stool and he leans back against the bar on his elbows almost directly in front of her. Why would he bring her to a place like this? Not that she's complaining - far from it, really - but she'd been almost certain that he was going to deliberately expose her to agonisingly bright strobe lighting and thumping bass just as some kind of pay back for her insistence on accompanying him.

"What?" he asks, his defensive tone contrasting the casual way he's leaning against the surface behind him, how weirdly comfortable and at home he seems to be here.

A large, heavy pair of hands slap down on the bar in front of her before she can say anything, and she looks away from him towards who she assumes is the bartender.

He's big. He'd make Adam and Nate look small. He certainly makes Tanner look small. Half of his face has been scarred to the point of almost being unrecognisable by what looks to be slashes done with either a sharp blade or a sharp set of claws. His eyes narrow and his lips twist into a snarl as he eyes the back of Tanner, who lets out a huff of a sigh.

"Thought I told you not to come here again, Drake," he growls, his voice deep and rough, very real threat dripping from every slow spoken word.

Tanner rolls his eyes, shooting Morgan a grin before curving it into a placating and annoyingly charming smile as he turns around. "But I didn't think you were serious, Mickey. You have to admit I pretty the place up."

Morgan’s eyes dart between the two, waiting to get kicked out, but to her surprise Mickey lets out a defeated sigh and turns his attention to her. “Who’s this?”

“Vampire,” Tanner answers without hesitation, and Morgan’s eyes widen, her hand shooting out to slap him on the shoulder before she can stop it and making the large bartender laugh.

“Don’t worry honey, this one’s about the closest to a human you’ll find in here,” he reassures her, nodding towards Tanner as he takes a seat beside her.

A supernatural bar. Now it’s making a little more sense; the unassuming entrance that you wouldn’t even suspect an establishment was hiding behind if you didn’t already know it was there, the lowered lighting, the peaceful quiet in comparison to other bars she’s been in.

She quirks a brow at Tanner as he orders two beers, surprised that he’s bothered to bring her to such a place.

“Not what you were expecting?” he asks, casting a small smirk in her direction.

“I’m learning not to expect much from you,” she answers disinterestedly, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much she appreciates that she’s brought her here instead of somewhere noisier and brighter.

So maybe she’s not so bad. Maybe he was a little off when he’d assumed that she’s a bitch and his interest would never stretch beyond wanting to sleep with her. Maybe he’s actually enjoying her company a little now that she’s loosened up a little and isn’t acting as though she’s counting down the seconds until she can be done with him.

Not that he was doing anything different until about an hour ago, when he’d finally managed to convince her to get away from the bar and into an especially shadowed booth with him in the corner of the room. She’s still a little off, her hands wrapped around her beer bottle, tapping on it slowly and not offering much of a response to his conversation, but at least she’s not looking at him with quite as much disdain as she was in the beginning.

He supposes it’s his own fault. He has been kind of a prick to her since he met her.

“So, how’d you find this place?” she asks after a moment of silence and he hesitates, drumming his fingers on the table in front of them before glancing over at her.

“Work,” he answers simply. It’s not a complete lie. Not exactly the whole truth either.

She looks up at him, a slow smirk stretching across her face before she nods towards Mickey behind the bar. “It took me a while, but I recognise him.”

Well, shit. He didn’t think that Units not directly involved in missions knew about anyone who was.

“Yeah?”

She nods, then gives a shake of her head and looks away from him, though the smirk remains on her face. “We’ve been looking for him for a while,” she pauses, taking a swig of her beer before looking back over at him. “Didn’t realise you’d already found him.”

“Not everyone deserves to have to live by their rules,” he comments bitterly.

“You know I need to report this when we get back.”

“You could, but then I’d have to kill you,” he retorts jokingly, though he’s not entirely sure that it’s as much of a joke as her scoffed laughter has him believe that she thinks it is.

So he doesn’t turn everyone over, it’s not the big deal that the Agency makes it out to be. Some of the supernaturals that refuse to sign the treaty do so for reasons that have nothing to do with chaos or violence. Sometimes they just want to do their own thing. Like opening a bar specifically for supernaturals with heightened senses who struggle to cope with standard human recreation. Supernaturals like her.

Sometimes he lets people go because he knows it’s going to benefit him in the future. Sometimes he’s just feeling particularly rebellious and pissed off at the Agency and just lets them go because he can. None of it changes the fact that he has one of the best track records of all the bounty hunters associated with the Agency. Good enough for no one to really have anything to say on the rare occasion that he doesn’t return successful.

“You could try,” she replies after a while when it seems to dawn on her that he might be more serious than she’d initially thought.

“I don’t try.”

His response draws a halt to their conversation, reminding them both that they’re not friends and they’re only stuck here together because they have to be. Because she does as she’s told and he has no intention of Adam du fucking Mortain snitching on him for bailing on his duties and getting him caged.

The silence is starting to grate on his nerves when her phone ringing in her pocket disturbs it, and he lets out a sigh of relief, relaxing back against the seat and watching her carefully as she talks to who he assumes is either Adam or Rebecca, judging from the amount of respect she’s showing.

Respect or not, she lets out a displeased sounding sigh when she hangs up and looks over at him.

“Well, this is going to take longer than we thought.”

“Because?”

“Because your next bounty is in this city. And now I’ve been drafted to help you.”

He stares at her blankly, hoping that the horror he feels is just as obvious on his face as it is on the inside.

“I work alone,” is all he manages, his mind racing through everything that could go wrong with a loyal Agent tailing him.

“Not this time.”

“Every time.”

She shrugs and nudges at him to get him out of her way so that she can get to her feet. “I don’t know what to tell you, you’ll be getting a call about it tomorrow. Adam just wanted to give me a heads up that we’re gonna be here a while, I need to get to the facility for extra rations.”

He groans dramatically and lets his head fall to the table with a thud, closing his eyes and already trying to think of ways to ditch her.

“I’m going back to the motel. Don’t come back until you’re done being a drama queen,” he hears her mutter, raising a hand to flip her off without looking up before he hears her walk away.

This is a fucking disaster. He doesn’t exactly complete his jobs entirely by the book. He’d had it drummed into him for months and months, whatever it takes, so that now he takes that phrase very literally. Except that he’d been taught that with the expectation that no one from the Agency would ever have to directly deal with what it takes, because what it takes is usually not pretty, not straight forward, and most likely heavily frowned upon, even by the people who want him to do it.

Having Morgan with him is going to make things immensely difficult, especially given how she’d reacted to him mildly threatening Helk in Wayhaven. If she can’t handle him threatening to break a couple of fingers, how is she going to go watching him do whatever it takes?

Not to mention the fact that most of his reputation comes from people knowing that he doesn’t work well with others, doesn’t get close to anyone, doesn’t care about anyone. How is it going to look when he shows up with a little vampire sidekick?

Like his job needs to be any more unbearable.

tags (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @admdmrtn @masonsfangs @homeformyheart @mmerengue @agentsunshine @bravomckenzie @freckles-spangledvampire @mistyeyedbi @kelseaaa @ambrosykim @amlovelies @forestcreatures @maraudern05 @kat-tia801 @alyssalauren @agentnolastname @utterlyinevitable @masonscig

#twc writing #the wayhaven chronicles #unit bravo #a du mortain #n sewell #f hauville #twc morgan #tanner drake #sadie kennedy #fire meet gasoline #chapter update #n*fw #kat writes

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everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years

Text

SNEEZE.

Obispo “Bishop” Losa x reader

Anon asked: hey darling i would like to request an imagine with bishop about something like this: you work on the scrapyard helping chucky (or in the bar at mayans parties) and he has a soft spot on you, but you think he is just nice but in fact it’s because he is in love with you but he is scared that you don’t reciprocate the feeling and because you are much younger than him

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @chibsytelford 💖

Word count: 3.6k

Author Comments: I hope you all enjoy. Gif isn't mine.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 @chibsytelford @dazzledamazon @mara-mpou @sammskellington @gemini0410 @1-800-imagines @briana-mishell24 @sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae @jade770 @arveeee @witchy-wish ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

After sneezing for sixth time, your nose starts to bleed, covering it with both hands and a “shit” drowned in your throat. Tranq and Bishop look at you with raised eyebrows, seen you using a cloth when the drops stain your shirt.

“You ok, kid?” The president asks visibly worried. You nod throwing your head forward and breathing by your mouth.

“I'll find you a shirt, wait”. The other mexican says, disappearing through the hallway to the dorms.

“Com'ere, sit down”. Bishop offers you a hand, guiding your steps to the closer sofa.

Nailing your elbows on your nap, you continue with your head down as your mother taught you when you were a child.

“Are you cold, or sick, or something like, ah?”

“I think so... Yesterday… the heating in my house just… broke. And when I sneeze too much, this happens”. You sigh pulling away the cloth to see how it's going. Still bleeding.

“Did you call a tec'?” Then, you shake your head because you actually forgot it. “What if I take you home, uh? You should rest”.

The man places his right palm on your forehead, noticing that it's warm than normal. The gesture gives you some chills, coughing because of the blood stuck in your throat. Tranq offers you the the shirt, he was looking for, as the president helps you to getting up.

“Change it, okay? I'll ride you home”.

“I'm ok, prez”. You shake your head taking it. “I just… gonna change it and go back to work. I have to… I have to get everything ready fo' tonight”.

“Querida, you're not gonna work having fever”.

“Yea', nor bleeding like that. Stockton is like an excited bull when they see something red”. Tranq makes you chuckle, nodding just one time before walking towards the bathroom.

“Find Coco, tell him I need his car for a couple hours”.

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

Your house feels like the North Pole, bearing in mind that the sun only gives you a couple of hours a day and that you forgot to close the large window of the living room. At least, you left it after clean the mess in it. Sideways, you find Bishop trying not to look around, so you would not think that he's ‘too curious’. Continuing your steps to the window, you close it and you also run the curtains. Sneezing again covering your nose with both hands, and turning to your boss, you sigh heavily.

“Have a cold shower and get some rest. I'll get you some pills to help you, and find a tec' who fix the heating, ok?”

“Sounds like ain't another option”. You joke a little, trying to breathe by your nose.

Bishop smirks at you, putting his gaze away before leaving your house. He's always attentive, kindly and gentle with you, helping with whatever he can help without even asking him to do it. And it feels nice having someone who takes care of you so disinterestedly, and wanting nothing back. Just doing it because it's what he desiderate. And because of that, you obey every indication the man gives you without complain about it.

After having a shower and putting on some comfy sport clothes, you lie down on the sofa hugging a cushion. You don't feel better, with the stuffy nose and the dry throat. Have fever and a cold on a day like this it's a big shit, because Mayans pays pretty good jack for some hours serving beers and shots. And even if you don't need it, not at all, it's always okay to save some more money. Turning on the tv and looking for whatever to watch, you wait for your boss to come back, falling asleep in the process.

You can't know how much time has passed, when you feel a hand narrowing your shoulder gently with a sweet voice calling you. Opening your eyes so slowly, you find Bishop there. Getting up to sit, you cough covering your mouth with a fist.

“How you feel, ah?”

“I'm okay”. You lie, making him chuckle for a second.

“The sales' told me you should take one of this, every six hours”. He says then, giving you a small box of analgesics by taking it off from a cardboard box. “And I also bought you an orange juice”.

Putting it on the table, he walks to the kitchen, coming back towards you in just a few seconds.

“Didn' know if you have a thermometer, so…” Having a sit by your side, he grabs it from inside the bag to take off the plastic that wraps it. “Okay, open your mouth”.

You can't help but laughing with some difficulties, taking it under your tongue and pressing your lips while he serves you the drink in the crystal glass. After exactly one minute, the thermometer beeps six times. Bishop removes it from your mouth, looking at the number that it's marking. The man clicks his tongue, somewhat disappointed.

“You will not work tonight”.

“But I'm okay!” You complain about his decision, whilst he's raising both eyebrows.

Ignoring you, the man takes one of the pills giving it to you and offering the juice with the other hand. Sighing heavy you obey again, pulling back your hair before it.

“You don' have to do'et”. You exhale resting the back against the sofa and turning your head to him.

“Do what?”

“Stay here. Take care of me like that”.

“Are you gonna do it?”

No. Not at all. If it were up to you, you would continue working on the scrapyard. But you have to recognize that you feel a little bit ashamed of Bishop seeing you looking like shit, and putting all your efforts so that he doesn't notice it.

“You can go, if you need it. I do—”.

“I'm staying till after lunch, you need to eat. So, go to bed and rest”. Palming one of your thighs, kicking off his boots and leaving the kutte on the armrest, he raises both eyebrows with no more gesture on his face.

You do it, again without any compliment knowing that you already lost the battle of working tonight at the Mayan party. Falling down on your bed and hugging your pillow with both arms, after lower the blind, you try to have some rest but because of your stuffy nose you know it's not a possibility. So you just lie there, with the door almost open but seeing Bishop focused in his phone through the opening.

Sometimes you ask yourself why he is so gentle with you, since the first moment you met. With the time, you thought that maybe he had a kid and he was just being protective, or something like. But then you knew that he hadn't more family than Marcus Alvarez, el Padrino. You feel like a stalker watching him enraptured, trying to pretend you're not looking at him when the man gets up after some hours there. Maybe it's time to eat, but you have your phone in the living room. So you just wait again for Bishop.

And when a delicious smell slices into your room, calling you as the sweetest and charming melody, flooding it completely; you hear two knocks on your door, finding his shadow on the floor.

“Lunch is ready, c'mon, kid”.

“I'm not a kid”. You snort getting out from your door, as he laughs softly.

“You are, compared with me”.

“Yea', I'm sorry, Mr. Mummy”. You joke on him, coughing again as soon as you try to laugh walking towards the table. “Boiled veggies… Seriously, Obispo? 'Amma joke to you?”

“See? You're a kid”.

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

After being sure that you can take care of yourself for the moment, the president left your house to attend the party. Highlighting thousands times to call him in case you continue worse. You're not going to do it, because he has the right to have some fun and don't wasting his time being a nurse, but you nod the thousand times back. Even if you enjoyed his company, it's not fair.

Desperate and rough knocks hits your door, waking you up violently and jumping off from the sofa very dizzy. Your heart is about to stop because of the hits, walking sleepy towards the main door.

“Why haven't you answered your phone, ah?! You scared the shit outta' me!”

“Shit, lower your voice, prez. My head is gonna explode”. You sob between growls.

Without expecting, he places a hand on your forehead and another on your nape. Clicking his tongue, he walks inside your house right to your room. With the door still open, he comes back holding a hoodie and a pair of sneakers.

“Put them on, we're going to the hospital”.

“Bishop, I'm fi—”.

“No, you're not”. He snorts somewhat upset, stretching both arms.

You know you can't fight against him, being more headstrong than you. So sitting on the closest chair, you put on the shoes before wearing the sweater. Walking by his side to the Coco's car, you have a seat on the copilot one, adjusting the seat belt around your body. You have never seen Bishop driving more than his bike, till today. And you have to recognize he does it pretty well too, thinking about something he's bad into. Nothing, apparently. Sometimes he's a little annoying, like now, knowing that you don't need to visit the urgencies.

In the road, you look for your insurance number in your phone, keeping it opened to fill the former as long as you're there. But he decided to do it for you, forcing you to wait for him at the waiting room. It's cold, at least, it's what you feel trembling slightly and curling your legs against your chest above the chair. Bishop doesn't look happy when he sits next to you, probably because the doctors are going to take a while to see you, with all the people there sitting behind your back. The man looks at you, with your eyes closed and breathing by your mouth, hearing somewhat like a zip being opened. You raise your gaze to him when he helps you to get up a little, so he can wraps you with his jacket.

“I got you, have some rest”. He speaks with a low tone, don't wanting to bother you, nor your headache, placing an arm on your shoulders pushing your body close to him.

Getting a little more comfy over his chest with your cheek resting there, you sigh closing your eyes feeling too tired. For you, it's just another cold. But for him, seems like you're dying. It's funny finding out how careful he can be. And you're starting to be okay with that when he ends up sitting you on his lap, thinking you could be better, curling your legs above the next chair whilst he's holding you tightly. Yes, it's feels so much better. Maybe it's not that bad being sick, even when you look like a helpless child sheathed by a jacket bigger than you and his arms surrounding your body.

Some long minutes after, when you're almost falling asleep and you're feeling warm, your name resonates through the megaphone. Bishops helps you to get up, still holding you and following the hallways to the doctor's office.

“(Y/N)?” The man asks seeing you both come in after calling to the door.

“Yea'”. You mutter going straight to the stretcher and sitting there.

“How you feel, miss?”

“Pretty good, doc—”. You cough again, putting a hand on your chest when it rips you internally.

“She has almost one hundred and four”. Bishop talks then. “I gave her some analgesic, but ain't no working”.

“Okay, let's see”. The doctor nods taking the stethoscope. “Are you her partn—?”

“Her boss”.

“Lucky girl, then. My boss would kick my ass if I felt like you, miss”.

“Yea', I like to… take care of my mechanic. That little trouble knows who to fuck up my bike”. He chuckles, leaving an unexpected kiss on your left temple.

“A wise man. But I need you to leave the consult, so she can take off her shirt”.

“Ye—Yes. Sure”. Bishop agrees clearing his throat. “I'll be right there, okay?”

The study begins once you're alone, hearing your lungs and your heart beat, looking inside your throat and taking your temperature. It doesn't take much longer than three or four minutes, when the doctor asks you to get dressed again, but pull down a little your sweatpants so he can puncture some medicine on your lower back. It hurts like hell, feeling how the cold liquid running under your skin, making you press a little cotton against it after it's done.

“I'll recipe you some analgesic. And water. Drink a lot of water. Sometimes looks like foolishness, but it actually helps”. The man says, sitting at his deck and writing something you can't understand.

Giving you the paper, he lets you go.

“And?” Bishop asks getting up from the wall, as long as he sees you.

“Medicine and water. And a gift prick”. You reply, putting his arm again on your shoulder and taking the recipe with his free hand. “My ass hurts”.

He laughs shaking his head, as you smirk softly surrounding his waist and resting your cheek against his cheek. You feel protected, even if you hate to feel defenseless. But with him, you accept it.

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

It's been two days and life has come back to you, under Bishop's care and paranoia of taking your meds at a exactly time of the day. And you need to reward him. Of course, Marcus is who knows him better and you know how much his cousin could appreciate a homemade lunch. Tacos al pastor. A small cliche, but easy to prepare. So you actually surprise him when he comes to your house, with a random text saying him you're feeling worse. Five minutes it's the time it takes him to get there, hitting your door bell insistently.

“Hey! What's up? You okay?” He's about to have a heart attack, with shaky breathe and a worried look on his face.

“Food is gonna get cold”.

“What food? Are you okay or not?” Bishop asks coming in, following the delicious smell of meat mixed with pineapple.

“I'm okay, relax. It was just a joke”. You chuckle closing the door and pushing him by your hands on his back, guiding him to the table already served.

“Amma' fuckin' kill you…” He growls turning to you, visibly upset and somewhat angry.

“Sit, grumpy mummy”. Rolling your eyes, you point a sit.

“What is that for?”

“I'm thankful 'you have been so annoying, taking care of me”.

“You did— Is tha— Who told you?”

“I have my own contacts, presidente”. You almost sing raising your chin proud.

And you don't know at what time you find yourself lying on the sofa under his weight. His waist between your legs, whilst his tongue is fighting yours and your lips biting his whenever they can. You have no air in your lungs, but seems like you don't care pushing him closer with both hands on his nape and head. His are running through your body with needy caresses that he was containing for so long. And he's hard, pretty hard, rubbing the lump under his jeans against your wetted crotch. You want more, moaning because of the friction among your thighs, when he wraps your throat with a hand, raising a little your neck so he can kiss and suck the exposed skin.

But something bad seems like clicks his neurons, when he snorts heavily against your skin.

“I'm sorry, I can't”. He just says getting up from the sofa. “I can't do it. I gotta go, sorry”.

You are confused, raising your back by your forearms, with your eyes on him seeing how he takes his jacket thrown above the floor. Bishop leaves your house in silence. Also leaving you there trying to find the point where you have fuck him up. But there's no point. You were good, having a great moment, taking a first step. You really wanted it, even if it wasn't the way you liked to start a relationship with him, so Bishop might think it's the only thing you want from him. Taking care of you those days it just made you fall in love a little bit more, and maybe he's not. And he only wants to protect you of making yourself illusion about something smoky.

You only can wait till night, hoping that maybe he could come back or text you at least. But nothing happened, and you're not going to give up.

It's the first time you reach the clubhouse in less than ten minutes, surprising yourself even, while you park the car next to the motorcycles. Seems like Mayans are having a party inside and, by that, you don't surprise. Coming in without calling, nor asking, being greeted by Gilly and Creeper with shouts and laughs. But you're not in the mood to joying them, finding Bishop dancing with one of Vicki's girl. Obviously. Sometimes it's too foreseeable. Without words, you walk towards him with a serious gesture on your face. He turns at you, as the blonde does.

“Isn't too soon to open the scrapyard?” The president is somewhat drunk, provoking some laughs around your.

It wasn't what you wanted, but plan b.

“I'm coming back to Guadalajara tomorrow, just came to return my uniform”. You reply, shaking your head a little, taking off the green shirt from your bag to leave it above the pool table.

The silence has been installed all around the clubhouse and even if he wants to hide his rage, he can't. Grabbing you by your left wrist, the president drags you inside the Templo letting you there with a soft push, at the same time he closes the glass door.

“The fuck is wrong with you?”

“With me? You're the one who is playing”.

“I'm not playing anything”.

“Oh, really? Then, you don't give a fuck if I go, or if I stay”.

He snort rubbing his face with both hands, supporting one on the column and other on his waist. He looks ratty, chuckling for no reason as he shakes his head.

“What the hell you want”.

“You”.

“That's not going to happen”.

“Why?”

Bishop clicks his tongue, about to leave you there alone. Supporting the door almost opened, he finally closes it again. Walking next to you cross-armed, looking at you from top to bottom.

“Lemme' tell yo—”.

“No. Now you're gonna hear me, Obispo. What the fuck is wrong with you? A fuckin' boss doesn't take care of a fuckin' mechanic just because ‘that little trouble knows who to fuck up my bike’”. Highlighting those last words he said some nights before, you're pointing his chest with your forefinger. “I don' know what the hell you thought this morning, but I wasn' trying to give you a ride to thank you what you did for me… I called Marcus, 'cause two or three or… I don't give a fuck. Some months ago I heard you telling the guys that… there was nothing better, after a long week, that come back home and have some good food on the table. And Padrino told me how much you like those tacos”.

The president is staring at you apparently impassive and unflappable.

“I like you, Obispo. I actually… love you”.

“Fuck is wrong with you?”

“Nothing is fuckin' wrong with me! Stop fuckin' asking that, Jesus Christ”.

“I could be your damn father”.

“But he's dead, and you're not. You don' even know my mother”.

“I'm not gonna ruin your life”.

“It was ruined before I met you, don't be so egocentric”. Rolling your eyes, you try to uncross his arms while he's pressing them tightly to his chest. “Fuck! Stop behaving like a child!”

“I'm not”.

“Yes, you are! Be a fuckin' man and recognize what you feel!” Reaching that point of the night, you're furious and mad as never, pushing his chest with both hands.

“I'm older than you and my hands aren't clean”. He insists walking back some steps.

“Good, congratulations. Do you want a medal, bad boy?”

“No, I want you to stay safe”.

“I am when we're together. I don' care about your age or mine, those are just numbers. And I don' care about your ‘job’, 'cause I know how to shoot a gun too”.

“It's n—”.

“You know what? You're a fuckin' coward”.

“Am I?” A bittersweet laughs escapes from his lips, putting away his eyes for a while.

“Yea'. You're letting me go 'cause you think you can ruin my life, actually ruining both whilst you're covering it with alcohol and putas, 'cause it's easier. That's not fair, Bishop. I can decided too”.

“You're coming back to Guadalajara”.

“'Course not! I just… Por el amor de Dios... I just wanted to talk with you. Alone”.

Bishop is about to reply with somebullshit. He sneezes. One time. Two times. Three times. You can't help but breaking in loud laughs, as he frowns his eyebrows cleaning his nose with the back of his hand.

“Fuckin' hate you”. He growls, with your hands surrounding his forearms to push him closer.

“Let's go home, prez…” The man wraps your waist, resting his forehead on your chest for a second.

“I'm fuckin' annoyen' when I'm sick”.

“Good that I don' care”.

#mayans mc x reader #mayans mc #mayans mc imagine #mayans x reader #bishop losa imagine #bishop losa #bishop losa x reader

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wakwarner · 3 years

Text

They

A/N: Hey guys!! First animanaics fic!!! please give cc and enjoy! TW: intentional misgendering

Prompt: “Why are you lying to me?”

Wakko slammed the door of the water tower angrily. They were completely fed up, and after the day they had had, Wakko figured no one could really blame them.

It had been a long day. A very long day. Full of missed lines, screwed up cues, and many, many misgenderings.

Wakko sighed, and flopped down onto their bunk, anger slightly diminishing and being replaced with embarrassment instead. They cringed inwardly as he remembered the worst of the misgenderings, which had happened once they’d messed up one of their lines.

“Hey, dude. Can you focus?” The director had asked impatiently. He turned to Yakko, who had been standing close by. “You. Can you get your little brother to focus? I don’t want to have to shoot this again.” The director sneered.

Yakko had gone to speak, probably to defend Wakko, but he was cut off. “No, no backtalk. Just do it. I don’t want to watch him mess this up again.” He had said, putting specific emphasis on the word him.

Wakko rolled his eyes at the memory, feeling upset. The staff had been told at the beginning of filming what their pronouns were. it had been made clear that Wakko was only to be referred to as “he” in script. The staff had been surprisingly open to it…

Well, most of them were, Wakko thought bitterly.

Wakko tumbled the interaction around in their head, becoming more and more annoyed as he recalled the situation. He barely even addressed Wakko. He had turned to Yakko, and asked him to take care of it. That made Wakko mad. They could control themself!

They stared bitterly up at the ceiling. Everyone had off days sometimes, Wakko reasoned to themself. That director was just mean.

His ears perked up as he heard Yakko and Dot enter the water tower. Yakko had mentioned something about him and Dot staying after filming. Wakko assumed they’d needed to film an extra scene or something. They were chatting away animatedly, though Wakko had no idea what about.

Wakko pulled the blanket over themself, completely covering themselves with it. They hoped this was a good enough indicator that they wanted to be left alone.

“Hey Wak?” He heard Yakko say from under the covers. They sighed. No such luck.

“Hmm?” Wakko replied disinterestedly. They still was holding onto hope that Yakko would take the hint and leave them alone.

Well, that and they just didn’t have very many words left in them after the day Wakko had had today.

They sighed as they heard Yakko close the bedroom door and walk over to where Wakko was laying in their bed. “What do ya want, Yakko?” Wakko deadpanned, trying to joke. They cringed as it didn’t come out right, and they peeked out of the covers just in time to see a flicker of annoyance cross over Yakko’s face.

“What, I can’t check in on my younger sibling?” Yakko replied, somewhat defensively. Wakko just shrugged, knowing after years of living with Yakko that there was more coming. “I just wanted to see what was up.” Yakko continued after a second. “You’ve been acting off all day.”

Wakko could feel annoyance rising up in them at the remark. So what? I’m not perfect. Sue me! They thought angrily. Wakko felt like unloading everything. You try acting and singing when people constantly take digs at you. You see how it feels! And anyways, why didn’t you stand up for me? You heard what the director said! What’s up with that? Some brother... Wakko was surprised at that last thought. They knew deep down they didn’t mean that. This bad day must’ve been affecting them more than they’d thought.

Wakko shrugged instead of responding, avoiding Yakko’s eyes. They knew their lack of response would make Yakko cross, but Wakko figured it was better than what they’d been thinking in their head.

Yakko crossed his arms impatiently. “Well,,,?” he prodded, somewhat unkindly. Wakko could tell he was getting annoyed, which made them feel worse. Can’t I do anything right?

“I’m fine!” Wakko huffed, now thoroughly upset. They’d already slowed down filming, and now Yakko was upset with them too? They could hardly stand the thought of another person being mad at them. Wakko turned to face away from Yakko, hoping to hide the tears that were threatening to rise in their eyes.

Yakko softened a bit, knowing that something was up but not knowing what. He placed an arm on Wakko’s back, rubbing absent-mindedly. “Why are you lying to me?” He asked sadly.

Wakko felt dangerously close to breaking after that. They sniffled, trying to keep the tears at bay, before answering honestly. “I dunno.”

“Can you please just tell me what’s wrong?” Yakko asked after a minute of silence. Wakko sighed shakily, closing their eyes before finally unloading.

“I’m j-just having a bad day. E-everyone was being mean to me.” They sniffed, tears finally falling just like they’d known they would. “And that director kept calling me he, a-and you d-didn’t even say anything!” They continued, finally voicing what had really made them the most upset. They were sobbing in earnest now, their hands covering their face as tears leaked through.

Wakko felt themself be gathered up into Yakko’s arms and simply let themself be held for a bit. Yakko didn’t say anything, just scratched behind their ears and rocked them back and forth.

After a few minutes of crying, Wakko finally found themselves starting to calm down. They looked up to Yakko, who was being uncharacteristically quiet. Yakko noticed them looking, and smiled back down at him.

“Why didn’t you say anything, Yak?” Wakko asked softly. They tried to avoid Yakko’s eyes, but felt themself looking up in surprise as Yakko laughed. “What?” They said, confused.

“You don’t have to worry about that stupid director anymore, pal.” Yakko said. Wakko waited for him to continue, still confused. “I took care of that.”

“What do ya mean?” Wakko said, dragging a sleeve across their face in an attempt to get rid of the few remaining tears. Yakko absent-mindedly pulled a handkerchief out of nowhere and wiped their face, before continuing.

“Let’s just say that particular guy uhhhhhh doesn’t work here anymore.” Yakko said, proudly.

Wakko looked up at him in shock. “What did you do?!”

Yakko smiled. “Me? Oh, not much.” He responded, relishing the memory. He started to explain.

“He’s not being respectful!! And I’m TIRED OF IT!” Yakko said in exasperation. The director in question just watched, dumbfounded. “If he’s not going to be treating people with respect, then I’m not going to be working with him!” Dot nodded, agreeing.

The CEO watched with wide eyes, mouth open in shock. “You can’t just-” She started, before Dot cut her off.

“If you ask ME, I think he’s been asked one too many times to use the right pronouns.” She said maliciously.

At this, the CEO turned to the director, who had yet to speak up for himself. “Is this true?” She asked, annoyed. The director sputtered, but she cut him off. “Because if it is, I have to say I’m not very impressed. This is a lot of trouble you’re causing over a simple word.” She glanced at Yakko and Dot nervously, who still looked enormously pissed off.

The director finally spoke up, trying to defend himself. “It was an accident!” He cried.

Dot laughed, not believing that for a second. Yakko cut in at the same time, crying out, “What? Can’t focus?” The director turned red at that, remembering how he had used that same line on the middle Warner earlier that day. They all argued for a bit more, as the CEO watched the exchange, exasperated.

“Maybe you’re just too stupid to remember!” Dot sneered, and they all watched as the director turned an unhuman shade of red.

“Maybe you’re just mad your freak brother is too stupid to know what he is!” The director screeched, enraged. It got very quiet after that.

Dot and Yakko both had murderous looks on their faces. The director, who was starting to calm down a bit, looked like he knew he had messed up. Majorly. Yakko was just about to respond when the CEO cut him off. “Out.” She said, quietly. They all looked over at her, shocked.

“I- What-” the director sputtered. The CEO simply cut him off again.

“You’re fired.�� She said, still entirely too calm. “Get out.” The director stood still, mouth agape. “GET OUT!” she said, louder and harsher this time.

The director glanced around once more, still in shock, before finally simply walking away.

Wakko laughed as Yakko retold the story, smiling at the funny voice he had used for the director. “Did Dot really threaten to quit?” they giggled.

Yakko nodded. “And worse. It took a lot of willpower to stop her from smashing him with a mallet.” Wakko smiled. “Honestly, I almost smashed him with a mallet. And he would have deserved it, too.” Yakko continued.

“You guys are the best.” Wakko said, more to themselves than anything. Wakko felt silly for ever doubting that their siblings would stand up for them.

They should've known better.

A/N: That’s it!! Hope you liked it :)

#animaniacs #animaniacs 2020 #wakwarner #fics #my fics #wakko warner #yakko warner #dot Warner #siblings

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babyybitchhhwrites · 4 years

Text

Endeavor x Reader 18+

Title: Temptation

Rating: Explicit/R-18+

Words: 2761

Warnings: phone sex, public masturbation, slight daddy kink

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25758232

A/N: This is not a new fic. I actually wrote it sometime back in 2017 but I never uploaded it outside of Tumblr. I was only recently able to retrieve it from my previously nuked blog so figured I’d go ahead and post it here. : /

♥♥♥♥

Whether because of his age or due to his stubborn ass personality, Enji was not a big fan of texting. He much preferred to make phone calls or, better yet, speak to someone in person. Try as you might to convince him otherwise, it proved to be a hard habit of his to break. Although you couldn’t really blame him for being so stuck in his ways, not when they’d served him so well over the years, you likewise had your own method of getting things done. Texting was your main source of communication these days and you’d long since accepted that he just wasn’t going to get on board with it anytime soon.

Thats why you were so terribly shocked when your phone buzzed and you glanced down at the screen to see a message from the flame hero himself. This was so unlike him and concern that there was some kind of problem washed over you before you could rationalize it as being something mundane. Fearing the worst, you opened the text only to balk incredulously.

Come to my office.

Surreptitiously glancing up at Best Jeanist, you offered the blonde a reassuring smile when he shot you a questioning look. This was so not the time for Enji to start getting demanding.

I can’t right now. I’m out on patrol with my boss. Maybe later?

You waited expectantly for some kind of response, but it was just dead silence on his end. After about three minutes and your text still unread, you slipped your phone into your pocket with every intention of getting back to work. It went off again not even thirty seconds later and you heaved a tired sigh. Once more fishing out your cellphone, you disinterestedly looked over the new message.

I’ve been thinking about you.

Your eyes bulged before you could catch yourself. Suddenly feeling quite flustered, you quickly glanced around to make sure no one was reading over your shoulder before carefully constructing your reply. No one knew about your relationship with Endeavor and it would have been disastrous if it came out like this. It was a PR nightmare just waiting to happen.

Oh ~? I can’t wait for you to tell me all about it! I’ll be done around 5

This time Enji’s reply came much quicker and you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling at the thought that he was starting to get the hang of it.

I want you now. Not later.

Too bad he was using his new found texting skills to get you all hot and bothered while you were at work and your boss was standing not even five feet away.

You were halfway through typing a firm but gentle reminder that you were a pro too and you couldn’t just drop everything to come blow him under his desk when you got another message from him. Blinking in surprise, your eyebrows shot up when you realized that he’d sent you a picture. You didn’t even really give it much thought as you clicked on it, and suddenly your screen was filled with … the front of Enji’s hero costume. The crotch to be exact. And boy, was he hard.

Blushing like a school girl, you hurriedly tapped the picture away. Another text was waiting for you.

See what you do to me?

You gasped for air, swinging your head up to find Best Jeanist approaching you. Panic was quick to set in but, thinking fast, you rushed to say that you were going to use the restroom and without even waiting for a answer, you took off in the opposite direction. It was suspicious. It was incredibly suspicious, your behavior. He’d no doubt ask what that had been all about when you returned and you sure hoped he bought whatever petty excuse you managed to come up with before then.

Halfway down the block, there was a fast food restaurant which is where you decided to slip into. You refused to meet any of the employees eyes as you made a bee line for the bathroom where you promptly locked yourself into one of the stalls. Gripping your phone in a white knuckled grip, you jabbed at the screen rather aggressively and brought it up to your ear. Enji answered on the first ring.

“I’m so glad that you’re finally catching up to this century, but you can’t send me stuff like that when I’m at work!” You snapped, almost immediately regretting your choice in words. You were flustered and anxious though, and your panties suddenly felt uncomfortably damp, so you didn’t even try to take it back.

To your surprise, Enji actually had the decency to fall into stunned silence for a brief moment. Then he growled through the receiver and you could practically see his teeth clamping down on that pouty bottom lip of his. “Watch how you speak to me, woman. I wont warn you again.”

That certainly took some of the bite out of your scathing mood. “Look, I’m sorry but …” You tried to reason with him, noticeably calmer. “I’m on patrol with Best Jeanist right now. You can’t ask me to just drop everything like that.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

You choked in disbelief. “W-wha -”

He cut you off with a vehement huff. “Where are you?”

“In a restaurant. In the bathroom.”

“Good.” You caught the sound of rustling on the other end. “I felt like a damn fool taking that picture. This is much better.”

Your gaze darted to the stall door, still locked. “Enji, I can’t -”

“You will.” A tense puff of air filtered through the line, and you were sure he had his straining cock in his hand now. “I’ll even take you out to dinner tonight instead of just breaking you over my desk. Now be a good girl and start playing with yourself.”

Static electricity shot up your spine, making you shudder. A soft moan escaped your parted lips. Enji didn’t miss it, he never did, and he chuckled in satisfaction. The sound alone made goosebumps erupt across your skin and before you realized what you were doing, your free hand had found your breast. It was small and delicate compared to his massive, callous rough palms, but it was so easy to imagine. So easy to dredge up the most recent memory of how it felt when he fondled your tits. Your nipples responded quickly, pebbling against the inside of your bra, just aching for some real attention.

“This is risky …” You murmured, your voice a little lower. Huskier.

Enji snorted. “Maybe for you.”

You flushed red hot at that, swaying on your feet. He was right. You were the only one doing this out in public where anyone could walk in without warning while he was safe in his office. Your breath hitched even as you rushed to unfasten the top of your costume with one hand. It was a struggle, but with jerky motions you finally managed to free yourself and you yanked your bra down under the swell of your chest.

“E-Enjiiii …” You keened into the phone as you pinched your left nipple. Tugged it, gave it a twist. Nothing could compare to his rough ministrations though.

A pleased hum drifted into your ear, followed by a deliberately slow inhale. “Not like that. You know better.”

You screwed your eyes shut and leaned back against the stall door, groaning. “Daddy!”

“Thats it.”

Enji sounded so self satisfied and you could practically envision him reclining into his highbacked leather chair, spreading his legs wide as he languidly stroked his cock with his hand. Maybe he was alternating between showing the head some special attention, slowly rubbing around the slit at the top, or perhaps he was reaching down to give his heavy balls a nice squeeze. God, there were so many possibilities and somehow not knowing exactly what he was doing made your knees go weak.

“I’ve been thinking about that pretty little mouth of yours all day.” He spoke slowly, almost sensually, truly stoking your fire. “I wanted you to come crawl under my desk and suck me off while I work on this mountain of paperwork. Be my little cock warmer.”

Your vision started to blur. “I want to, daddy. I want your dick in my mouth so bad. I wish it was you touching my nipples right now.”

He groaned, quietly. “Those perfect little tits of yours. Maybe I should have you squeeze them together so I can fuck them instead of your mouth.”

“Why not both?”

He issued a rumbling chuckle. “Smart girl.”

Your nipple was starting to get sore and tender, so you switched over to teasing the other one. “What else do you want to do to me? Please tell me, daddy.”

Enji made a thoughtful sound, as if he were in no rush to hurry this up. He probably wasn’t, in all honesty. “Well, first I want to take you over my knee and give you a nice, hard spanking for talking to me the way you did earlier. You know I don’t tolerate that kind of behavior.”

“And then?” You were quick to prompt him for more. Eager to hear his gruff voice saying filthy, humiliating things directly into your ear. “After you’re done spanking me?”

“Then I think I’ll play with that pretty pink asshole of yours for a while. You know how much I enjoy that.”

Its true. He was rather fond of fingering you after your behind was blistering red and sore. “I like it too …” You whimpered as you tugged on your nipple a little too hard.

“I know you do.” Enji’s voice dropped an octave, taking on a more carnal lilt. More predatory, hungry. “And I’ll force my fingers down your throat when I’m through. Make you clean up your mess. You’re such a messy girl, you know that?”

“Oh, god.” The words forced their way out of your mouth and you abandoned your chest in favor of fumbling with your pants. “I am, I really am, daddy. I’m so sorry.”

He moaned, clearly enjoying the needy desperation in your voice. “Thats what I’m here for. To keep you in check. Are you touching your clit yet?”

Practically tearing your jeans right off, you crumple them around your ankles and drop into a squat right there inside the stall. “Yes, daddy. I’m so wet, god. I wish you were here. I want you to fuck me in this bathroom so bad.”

“Next time. I promise.” His breath catches in his throat and you knew he was stroking himself faster now. “For the time being, I want you to dip those sweet fingers into your cunt and imagine its me stretching you out. Getting you ready to take me.”

“I’m always ready for you.” You practically sob, sending jittery fingertips skirting across your labia. You pause just long enough to smear your arousal, coating yourself with it, before slipping one digit inside your pussy. Its not nearly enough though and you quickly add another. You clench down on yourself tight. “Oh! God … please! I need you. I need you, daddyyyyy.”

Enji scoffs, sounding quite put out even in the heat of the moment. “Stop that whining. If you would’ve just done as I said, I could be fucking you right now.”

You’re so close to wailing in outright distress. “But -”

“No buts!” He barks at you. You were astounded to hear that familiar heat creeping into his voice even in this situation, when he was in the middle of jerking off at his own desk. “You had your chance. These are the consequences. I trust I don’t need to give you a refresher course on what that means?”

“No …” You pout up at the wall, still a little whiny but notably less so.

“Good. Now,” He pauses. Lets the anticipation hang in the air while you continue to thrust your fingers into your body. “I want you to rub your clit. Hard and fast. Do you understand me? I’ll know if you don’t do exactly what I said.”

Sucking in a haggard gulp of air, you pull out of your cunt and focus instead on that tight cluster of nerves with sharp, quick circles. The delicious friction leaves you openly groaning in the public restroom like you’ve forgotten where you are. The threat of being caught seemed like a distant memory though and it was hard to care about reputations or PR when you just felt so achingly good rubbing one out with Enji over the phone. Somehow the thought had never occurred to you before, so the resulting rush was nearly palpable. You could feel it scorching your veins with its intensity.

“Thats it. Such a good girl.” He sounded incredibly hot and heavy all of a sudden. “Who owns that tight cunt? Who does it belong to?”

“You! You do! Its yours, daddy, all yours!”

“I wonder how soaked your panties will be by the time you get to my office.” Enji somehow manages to sound thoughtful, like he’s working out an equation in his head. “Maybe I should tell you not to put them back on when you’re done. That bastard Best Jeansit will probably be able to smell you from a mile way, regardless.”

Trembling under the force of your quickly mounting orgasm, you strain your legs a little further apart. You just couldn’t seem to put enough pressure on your clit, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. “I - I’m close … I’m so close, daddy …”

“Then do it. Come for me, baby.”

You moaned in response, far louder than you should have, and the pace of your hand reached a frenzied speed. Teetering right on the edge, balancing precariously on your heels in a dirty bathroom, you just needed one little nudge.

Its a deep, low grunt from Enji that finally pushes you over the precipice into oblivion. The guttural sound echoes inside your ears for an eternity while you spasm. Throwing your head back with a strangled scream, you slam against the door so hard that the bolt rattles, and you don’t even have the wherewithal to be concerned about someone hearing you anymore. Not while your gushing pussy is on fire, ineffectually contracting around nothing and all you can do is ride it out to completion.

The orgasm is so intense that it leaves you momentarily shaken. Disoriented. Leaning heavily against the door, you almost drop your phone as you slowly stand up on shaky legs. Your pulse is still excited and jumpy but almost immediately you can feel the blissful high of endorphins swarming your body. You feel almost giddy.

“Wow, that was … actually kind of nice. Did you come too?” You ask, sounding out of it and a little loopy. You were sure to be on cloud nine for the rest of the day.

“No.”

The answer is so blunt and to the point that at first you’re not so sure you heard him correctly. “What?”

Enji sighs as more shuffling can be heard in the background and you wonder what he’s doing. “I think I’ll save it for later. That rude mouth of yours needs to be filled up with something, doesn’t it? Be here at five on the dot or don’t bother coming at all. Oh, and don’t put your panties back on. Throw them in the trash for all I care.”

And just like that, the line disconnected.

You stood there, stunned and feeling quite foolish with your pants pooling around your ankles. Twenty six minutes according to the call log. That was an awfully long bathroom break. Jeanist would definitely have some questions for you. But before you worry about that …

Smiling mischievously, you pull up your text log with Enji and open the picture again. The sheer girth of his engorged cock was really straining against the synthetic material of his costume, weighing heavy in the tight confines and leaving a rather mouthwatering outline on display. Overall, it left very little to the imagination and you wished you could make it the background on your phone. Sadly, you knew you couldn’t.

You gave his cock one last, longing look. It must have taken quite a bit of willpower for him to edge himself like that if he was this hard at the start, you mused. This certainly pointed towards an extra fun evening awaiting you when you got off work and your pussy tingled with residual excitement.

You saved the photo anyway, confident that you would still find some use for it.

#hero academia #endeavor #enji todoroki #enji x reader #self insert bullshit

83 notes · View notes

dewitty1 · 4 years

Link

Starts With a Spin

Maxine

@serasarahhhh

Chapters: 17/17 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Characters: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Seamus Finnigan Additional Tags: Romance, Slash, Spin the Bottle, Truth or Dare, Humor, First Time, Hogwarts Era

Summary:

It started with the spin of a bottle, and now Harry and Draco have gotten themselves so far into their own game there's almost no way out again. Except to keep playing.

***

Excerpt:

“The bottle’s landed on you, mate,” Seamus said, a strong Irish tilt in his voice. Harry blinked again and glanced at the bottle disinterestedly.

“Right then, who am I kissing?” Aside from one or two nervous coughs, silence answered him. Furrowing his eyebrows in confusion, the bespectacled boy turned to Hermione, who was also looking a bit confused. Finding no help there, he then turned to Ron, who was staring across the circle in horror. “Erm…” Harry followed his gaze and his eyes found Malfoy, the blond boy’s lips curled in disgust. He blinked once more, wondering who on Earth he would be kissing that had this effect on Malfoy even-

Wait.

Eyes going wide, Harry snapped his gaze back around to meet Malfoy’s and found, much to his own horror, that Malfoy’s disgust was directed at him.

“Oh no…no way, no way in hell am I kissing Malfoy,” Harry said, falling onto all fours and backing up slowly. “You can’t make me!” There was still silence around the circle until Malfoy smirked and started casually observing his fingernails.

“Well, well, well, Potter. So much for that notorious Gryffindor bravery.” He raised his eyes to meet Harry’s, and his smirk widened. “Scared off by a little kiss. Even Brown wasn’t afraid of kissing another girl.”

“I have no problem kissing another boy, Malfoy, I just have a problem kissing you,” Harry spat. Draco’s eyebrows rose.

“Oh ho ho! No problem kissing a boy? Something you’re not telling-“

“That’s not what I meant!”

“I think it was.”

“It was not!”

“Boys! I don’t care who has a problem with what, I want to see some kissing!” Pansy broke in. She had a strange glint in her eyes.

And that was when Harry realized that something was very wrong with his classmates. Glancing around nervously, he noticed the same hungry look in many of the other girls’ eyes, and Seamus’ for that matter, but he ignored that. Most of the other boys simply looked interested, aside from Ron who was outright disgusted.

“Ew, gross, I agree with Harry, he shouldn’t have to kiss Malfoy!” he exclaimed, nose wrinkling. Harry nodded vigorously and turned to Hermione, expecting the same support, only to find her with a thoughtful look in her eyes.

“No, Ron, I think Harry should do it,” she said softly. Pansy glanced at her and smirked. “After all, Lavender and Padma had to. It’s only fair.”

“Hermione!” Harry exclaimed, looking completely scandalized. Draco chuckled. “Shut up, Malfoy!”

“I just find it funny that you’re so scared, Potter. Maybe that’s what the Dark Lord should do, eh, offer to bugger you or some such? That’d send you running.” He looked very smug.

“And why are you so eager, Malfoy? Something you’re not telling us?” Harry snapped, finally turning back to face his nemesis. Draco opened his mouth to retort, paused, made some sort of indignant sound, and finally managed to speak something that made sense.

“Oh you wish, Potter!” Ok, so it wasn’t his best comeback.

“If I don’t see you two snogging in the next few seconds,” Pansy started threateningly, pulling out her wand.

“Alright, fine!” Harry finally conceded, eyes narrowed angrily. “Get over here, Malfoy.” Draco stared at him incredulously.

“Right, I think not. How about you come over here?”

“You were the one who was so eager to kiss me, you can move your own lazy arse!” Inwardly, Harry cringed as the argument quickly deteriorated into grade school nonsense.

“I don’t think so, Potter, I was not eager to-“

“Alright, that does it!” Hermione stood and pulled her own wand out. She suddenly seemed very intimidating, looming overhead with a stormy expression on her face. Harry scowled at her and reluctantly dragged himself across the circle towards Malfoy, wondering when he’d wandered into an alternate universe where Slytherins and Gryffindors had parties together and Hermione wanted him to kiss Draco Malfoy.

“I knew you wanted it, Potter,” Draco smirked at him. Harry decided not to point out the light pink blooming in his cheeks.

“Malfoy, shut up,” he said tiredly instead.

“Make me, Potter,” was Malfoy’s reply, until what he said caught up with him and the smirk fell right off his face and apparently onto Harry’s.

“Told you you wanted it,” he said, eyes glinting, and then he reached out and grasped Draco by the chin, pulling him forward and placing his mouth determinedly on the other boy’s.

Harry’d only kissed one other person before, and while the disaster with Cho had certainly not been the best experience of his life, he was glad he could still say he at least enjoyed that kiss far better than the one he was currently partaking in.

It lasted less than two seconds, but even that was too long for Harry. He pulled back almost immediately and wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve, though that was completely unnecessary because there had never been a kiss that was more tightly close-mouthed than the one that he and Draco had just shared.

Draco was doing the same thing, cheeks growing a deeper pink to match the color that Harry could feel burning in his own.

“Well that was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever experienced,” Draco eventually said, breaking the deafening silence that had fallen. He sneered at Harry, and the green-eyed boy scowled right back.

“Not my fault you suck at kissing.”

“Oh, sod off, Potter.”

* * *

And that was the start of it all. At some point during the hours of the night following what had been deemed ‘The Kiss,’ Pansy and Hermione decided that combined House parties should be a weekly event to allow for stress relief and to give the students something to look forward to. No one was quite sure how the two girls had managed to form their uneasy truce, but they both agreed together that the parties would continue.

So they did.

Every Saturday night.

And this was what Harry couldn’t quite figure out. The Spin the Bottle games stopped, replaced with the ever popular Truth or Dare, and things went from bad to worse. His classmates seemed determined to watch he and Draco kiss, and it was unnerving Harry more than he liked to admit.

❤︎⁄⁄꒰* ॢꈍ◡ꈍ ॢ꒱.*˚‧* ∗◌+*♡

#Maxine #serasarahhhh #Drarry squad #Drarry fic rec #fic rec #Long post #Drarry Party games #drarry fanfiction #Harry Potter #Draco Malfoy #Drarry Classic #Carey's Bookmark fic rec #Carey's personal bookmarks #Drarry #my recs

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twoidiotwriters1 · 4 years

Text

Pure Blood 24 (Sirius Black x F!Oc)

Words: 1,839

Masterlist:

Chapter 23 // Chapter 25

“Persephone," Regulus complains rolling his eyes. "How long are you going to be like this?"

"Until you tell me the truth.”

"You can't hold me forever.”

"Try me,” I tighten my grip around his torso and he sighs.

“There's no truth, I don’t hide anything from you.”

"I know you lie, I've known you since you were a baby.”

"Perse- let me go!"

"No!"

He grunts and falls silent and looks around, a bit embarrassed at the attention we're getting. I'm about to tell him something else, but a sneeze interrupts me.

“You're still sick and you’ll make me catch it too if you continue in this way!"

"It's worth it, so you won't go out with your mysterious friends anymore!”

"Ok, I'll tell you, but please let me go!”

Little by little I obey and we both stand face to face. He fidgets uncomfortably.

"It's not something… it's complicated, Persephone."

"I'm worried about you, Reg. Sirius told me that–”

"Wait, Sirius?" He asks raising an eyebrow.

"He saw you with Rosier, come on Reg, you always hated them, what’s changed?"

"Now you believe my brother?"

"Don't change the subject," I point out. "Why were you with them?"

"Nothing, it's a boys’ thing" he shrugs.

"Oh, come on. That doesn't work for me.”

"You can't know, Persephone," he says suddenly serious. "You better not go where it does not concern you.”

He walks past me and his shoulder bumps with mine. Never since I knew him had he treated me like this. He asks for space, and obviously I won't give it to him, he's hiding something from me and I must find out.

Trixie left, Sirius is acting suspiciously nice, I’ve to catch up on my assignments, Remus following me like a shadow and my cold, which is almost out of my system, but I'm still sneezing. And I can't enjoy winter, I’d love to see snow cover the school, but no.

What else can go wrong?

I walk into the Great Hall and sit at the lion's table. Jenna’s on my left, Lily is on my right, while Remus is in front of me and Peter’s next to him.

"And the other two musketeers?" I ask him. Remus shrugs.

"They've been acting pretty weird lately."

We didn’t give it importance and we continued talking. Lily’s explaining to me something they did in the history of magic, but I was distracted the moment two Ravenclaw girls passed very close to Remus, they see him with a smile, whisper something, laugh and continue on their way.

Lupin also notices but he just looks down and his cheeks turn red.

"What just happened?" I say interrupting Lily.

"It doesn't matter," Remus whispers.

"You say it like it's happened to you before, Wolfie," I raise an eyebrow and he just shakes his head.

"Didn't the girls leave you alone?" Lily adds looking at him worriedly.

"Wait, which girls?"

Remus looks at her pleadingly not to say anything to me, but Lily ignores him.

“Some girls find what happened with Trixie and Remus very funny. 'I can't believe she noticed him' and 'He's the worst of the marauders' is what they say–”

"They say what?!”

"Percy, forget it, it's not worth it,” Remus says trying to calm me down.

"Of course, those lies are not worth giving importance to–”

“No they aren't. They are right though, everyone is. I'm a laughingstock.”

"You can’t be serious.” I can't believe Remus thinks that. His eyes look at me sadly and I feel my heart shrink.

"Remus John Lupin stop thinking like that!” He rolls his eyes.

"Percy the faster I accept it, the less damage."

“I’m offended!"

“Persephone,” Lily warns me, but I ignore her.

"I can't understand how you think like that, Remus."

“Percy…”

“No, I will not allow it. If you only saw yourself as I do, you would think differently. You’re one of the best people I’ve ever met. You’re kind, intelligent, you defend your friends and family, you’re stronger than you think! You still don't believe me?"

He scratches the back of his neck.

"Remus, you’ve helped me in so many ways, I cannot see you as a bad person, or as a loser, do not compare yourself with your friends, everyone has their qualities and if others don’t see how incredible you are, then they lose. Besides, that's better since I'll have more of you all to myself,” I joke and he smirks.

"Thanks, Percy."

I want to answer, but I see another group of girls in the distance who point to my friend. My body feels tense and I stand up despite Remus and Lily's warnings.

"Hey!" I yell at the group and they stop laughing. "If you want to keep talking about Remus, it’d be better to say it to our face and not just laugh like kids and then run away!" The girls blush and try to hide at their table. Now I have the undivided attention of others. “And this goes for everyone else, why don't you get a life instead of continuing to talk about what happened with Trixie? She’s gone, stop being idiots and let others live!” I glance at Remus. “Remus Lupin is one of the best people who have studied here and is much better than the vast majority of you.”

Some others whisper among themselves. I ignore it and sit down again. I've never seen Remus so flushed, but at least he's smiling.

"You didn’t have to do that.”

“A ‘thank you’ would’ve been nice,” I joke and he laughs.

"Don't worry, Remus. Surely after that speech, the girls will be behind you,” adds Jenna sarcastically.

"Yeah sure," He snorts.

“Hey!" I complain "Didn't you just hear what I just said?”

"Thanks, Percy. But you have to admit that I’ve never been good at romantic relationships."

“What?"

"Name a girlfriend of mine, skipping the devil," He says with an amused smile at the nickname.

I think for a few minutes and realize that it’s true. Remus hasn't had a girlfriend. I completely ignore the thought of my older sister having a crush on him.

"It doesn't matter, you’ll find a great girl, who’ll have to be approved by Lily and me,” Lily rolls her eyes. "All in good time, Wolfie. Soon you will have to reject your admirers.” He laughs.

"Surely.”

"Enough of so much negativity! You’re a very handsome boy, any girl would die to be with you!”

"Whatever you say, Percy,” I don't like the way he says it. How can he not tell how wonderful he is?

“Remus," I complain.

"Okay, maybe you're right, but I don't think any girl would-"

I don't let him finish, I pull his shirt to bring him closer and I kiss him, closing my eyes. I never would have believed that Remus' lips were so soft and delicate. For a few seconds I feel that he wants to reciprocate the kiss and- damn- he’s good. But the kiss suddenly ends when he pushes me away. I open my eyes and meet his pale expression and that's when I realize what I just did.

Holy shit.

I sit back on the bench and I can feel many glances on me.

"P?" Jenna asks, but I don't dare look at her, I keep staring at Remus.

"Uh, that- that's a test… maybe now everyone will notice you?” I stutter.

I grab my bag and run out of the large dining room with my eyes downcast to avoid everyone's stares.

What else can go wrong?

“Sirius?"

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

"Only this happens to you.”

"Thanks for the support.”

"Why the fuck did you kiss him?"

"I don't know, Jenna!"

"Do you know what you need?"

"Kill myself?"

"No, a girls' night" she says excitedly and I complain.

"Not again…”

The girls have been having sleepovers for a long time and Jenna has always invited me, but I always decline. I know Lily's friends are good and our relationship has improved and blah blah blah. But I’ve never been one of those things, now less, they’ll want to ask about what happened.

"Come on, I just ask you to be one night!"

"That's what everyone says," I say putting a hand on my chest exaggerating. Jenna sighs.

“Please?"

"But they’ll about ask what happened and talk nonsense and I'm going to be uncomfortable…”

"P, If you feel like this, I’ll give you permission to go, please, just one night!"

I see her pleading face and I growl.

"At least I hope sweets.”

“Sure."

We were silent for a few seconds.

“Don’t you really know why you kissed Remus?"

“No!"

"There must be a reason…”

"Well, I don't have it.”

“P…”

I pout.

"Stop scolding me,” I say taking my green blanket and putting it over my head. Jenna sighs.

"We were just coming off the Trixie drama and now you come up with this!”

"You're going to make me cry.”

"I think that's my job," says a third voice. We look up and behind our couch is my older sister.

"I don't want to see anyone anymore, come back later or never, thank you.” I complain now, covering my face behind the blanket.

I feel the chair move and I hear a little "I'm sorry" from Jenna.

"They say you were in the infirmary.”

I uncover my face and glare at my sister.

"Yes, like three years ago, thanks for worrying, sister."

She rolls her eyes.

“Not all your rumors interest me and most are false. Like that one about you kissing Lupin,” She says disinterestedly or so it seems because her eyes are towards the fireplace.

My body tenses.

"Er, haha, yes, people make up a lot of things…”

“Did you?" She says suddenly, her voice fails a bit.

"I didn’t plan to fall into the black lake,” Felix did.

"You know I'm not talking about that.”

What, this is not the invisibility blanket?

“Juno…”

"Is it because of what you read in my journal?"

“It's not what you think, I don't know why I kissed him, I don't understand, I'm trying not to panic, but come on Juno. Your crush with Remus was nothing serious, was it?"

"That does not entitle you to–”

"You sound like dad already,” I wince.

"At least I'm on his side.”

“Now, let's talk about family favoritism!”

"It is not necessary, we both know that you’re no longer on that list.”

I grunt.

“Is that what you came to then? To claim something from me that you have no right to and to emphasize the obvious– don’t you have something else to do?"

Her response was a clean slap on my innocent cheek.

“You’re a mess, Persephone. You always were, now the whole family knows it and soon all the important people of the magical world will know it too,” She says and smiles falsely. “Can’t wait to see you at the meeting,” She ends and then walks away.

“Ouch…" I rub my cheek.

Taglist

@treestarrrrrrrr @siriuslysirius1107 @thagreenmoon @madmaiden2890 @ren-ela @avipshamitra @auroraawrites @findzelda @lizlil @siriusmuch @chloe-geoghegan1 @reverse-hxlland @may-rapp @the-specific-oceans

@bloodorangemoonlight

@eveft

#Pure blood #hpfanfic #sirius black #sirius black x reader #james potter #remus lupin #harry potter #twoidiots writing

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