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thebestofoneshots · 5 months

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MARAUDWEEEN

Renegades | Remus Lupin x reader

Pairing: Remus L. x Reader + bits of Sirius x reader

Word Count: 6.8 k

Warnings: Smut, fingering, P in V, lots of praise, bit of oral near the end (male receiving) consent is sexy, lusty!Remus, childhood friends to enemies to lovers.

Prompt: As a part of the Maraudween Series, this fic takes you to an Alternate Universe where Remus Lupin is the Sheriff of Moonridge and you’re an outlaw he’s bound to chase after, but there’s a catch, you knew each other in the past, and the tension between the two is palpable, to say the least.

Maraudween is a Halloween-inspired anthology series where each chapter transports you into a distinct alternate universe. From the real world to old western Texas and even through the dark times of vampires. These standalone tales invite you into a realm of boundless potential. Experience the enchantment of Halloween as it weaves its spell, intertwining the magic of costumes, AUs, terror and spice.

NSFW (Smut under the cut) ♡

The sun was hot against you, almost burning the unclothed soft skin of the back of your hand as you stared at the long dirt road ahead of you. There was a man a few feet from you, tall, broad chest, handsome. The Sheriff of Moonridge, Moony, as Sirius would call him, just to spite the man. Or… The Wolf, like most criminals, knew him.

Things didn’t go awry on his watch, Moonridge was the safest town in the west and it was because they had a protecting Wolf against all the bandits that even dared get close enough. No one had managed to cause havoc in his town. No one except yourself.

His hand was on his hostler, so was yours, you could see his grip tightening in the distance, a warning, telling you he was ready, telling you he was faster, telling you you’d be gone in an instant if he took it out. He was the fastest gunsIinger of the West. You smiled, placing your own hand on your own hostler, because it didn’t matter if he was faster, not today at least.

3 seconds passed, he was looking at the way you smiled when a horse barged in from the side. Sirius and Firebolt. Your smile grew wider as the man on the horse extended his hand and hauled you over it, zigzagging his way towards the Sheriff.

“Took you long enough,” you huffed.

Sirius looked back and flashed you a smile as he bit his lip “Saw this beauty,” He said as he raised one of his hands up to your face, there was a small gold ring on his pinky, contrasting against the rest of silver rings he wore “Had to get it for my favourite outlaw.”

“You’re not gonna appease me with a little trinket.”

He pouted “Come on baby, you really think I only got one little trinket?” he asked as he nodded to the thick bag that hung from his belt “I’d get you the entire jewellery if that’s what you wanted.”

You smiled and rolled your eyes, pulling out his gun and firing a warning shot against the Sheriff's feet even in the horse, you had one hell of an aim. That’s how Sirius had discovered you and hauled you into the life of an outlaw after your parents passed away and your uncle was ready to sell you to an old man in exchange for a piece of land.

When you were about to pass next to the man, you put the gun back on Sirius’ hostler and placed your hand on his shoulder, “What are you…?” he started to ask, but shut his mouth when he noticed.

You had leaned down and taken the Sheriff’s hat from his head, and placed it on yours “Thanks Sheriff,” you said in a cocksure tone, a mocking smile and a wink before taking the gun from Sirius again and shooting another warning shot. A few more horses had gathered around you, the rest of the gang.

“Just shoot him somewhere Fox!” Barty said as he got slightly close.

“Oh, but Sheriff Moons is the only one that puts up a fight, it will be boring if he’s gone,” you responded with a pout.

“Why the hat?” asked Sirius, he looked to you over his shoulder before turning back ahead, you could hear the hooves clicking against the ground, approaching your group fast. You turned around and saw the Sheriff, chasing after you on his massive steed, a gift from the bankers after he stopped a robbery, if the rumours were true.

“A little souvenir,” you said with a shrug as you turned around and waved at the Sheriff, hoisting your own gun out and shooting at the side of a light post, causing it to fall down on the floor, a few metres ahead of the man.

“You missed,” teased Crouch. You just smiled, the kerosene from the broken street lamp was on the floor, slipping through the sides and making almost the perfect line, you shot at that this time around and the fire started ablaze.

“You were saying?” you asked your friend, he gave you an approving look. There was a reason you had been made a member of The Marauders, and it wasn’t just to be the leader’s little plaything as some other bands assumed.

Regardless of the fire, the Sheriff’s horse had no fear, and jumped over it, still trailing close behind, “Prongs, you got the timing right still, correct?” Sirius asked.

James nodded, he was Sirius’ best friend, and one of the minds behind the plan of this heist, “Of course,” he said and Sirius tightened his grip on the reins and spurred Firebolt.

Things were getting faster, you kept shooting at things to deter the Sheriff from following, but he was just as relentless as your gang, and followed behind the three of you. “It’s coming,” you said when you heard the whistle of the train. The chug-chug of it would have been enough to deter any horse, but you had trained yours well.

When the train was about to reach the spot you walked through, the horses jumped, to the other side of the tracks, your hat –Remus hat– almost flew off your head, but you managed to hold it with one hand while you used the other to grab onto Sirius and avoid falling of the horse yourself. Once Crouch, the last one to cross made it, the train passed right in front of you, making the perfect wall, in between you and the sheriff.

But that wasn’t the end of the plan, there was a chirping sound from a few carts back and suddenly a side of the train fell open, inside waited for you the rest of the gang. Peter, the mousy guy nicknamed Wormtail and Evan, Bartie's lover. The second guy was a lot more on the peaceful side, but when Barty joined he clarified that he came as a package. Either Evan came with him or he continued by himself, the way he always had been.

James and Sirius agreed, and he was glad he did, since it was thanks to that, that they had another master planner in the team. All the horses jumped up the ramp and into the train, and Evan and Wormy quickly picked the latch up and closed the cart. You smiled and looked at Sirius, a shine in your eyes that let him know exactly what you wanted, “Was it perhaps dangerous?” Yes. But Sirius already knew you found a thrill for danger when he recruited you. He also knew you ended up in a better mood when he indulged you.

You gave him a wink and went to the door of the wagon and opened it with a rather strong pull, slipping out only partially, the Sheriff, had been shocked when the train passed and there was no one left, being stunned by the magic of it before realising you’d somehow gotten on the train and chasing behind. He was a few blocks back, and you smiled, pulling off the hat in a small nod and waving to him with it “Thanks for the souvenir,” you shouted. He pulled his gun and aimed a shot, but you moved to the side and he missed by the hair, you were expecting it. You gave the man a pout as he aimed again, but Sirius was faster, pulling you inside and shutting the door before the second shot even reached the cart.

“You’re absolutely insane,” Evan said in disbelief.

You shrugged “I like to think I’m fun.” You then placed the hat back in your head “What do we think?” you asked with a smile “Nice souvenir, right?”

“It’s rather elegant,” agreed Barty.

“How long are we staying?” Sirius asked Evan.

“12 more minutes,” the blonde responded as he checked his pocket watch, “then we’re out and ride towards Hideout 6.”

You smiled and hummed “I love Hideout 6.”

Barty almost rolled his eyes, he knew why you liked it, he liked it for the same reason. It was big, it had comfortable beds and private rooms. He just didn’t like when Sirius and you were too loud.

A few minutes later, you heard a clock chime and James spoke “Time to get down.”

Peter rode with him, while Evan got on Barty’s horse. You, as you had done earlier, mounted Firebolt along Sirius. They opened the ramp and you all rode down and towards the hideout. In less than half an hour, you’d already gotten there. Evan checked the traps, to make sure no one had sneaked inside while you were gone and you all got in. You took a piece of dried jerky to snack on and walked upstairs, Sirius and the rest stayed, splitting the plunder. While on a normal gang, you wouldn’t trust them to do it evenly without you, you knew Sirius and James would never allow such scheming inside the Marauders. More than a team, the group was like a family.

You were lying on the bed, the sheriff’s hat over your head blocking out the light when you heard a knock on the door “Who?”

“The love of your life,” he responded, you rolled your eyes but mumbled something that sounded close to “come in”, not that it had been necessary, Sirius was already walking inside. “I see you’ve kept the hat,” he said before sitting beside you, turning the bag he’d hold onto and letting the contents fall on the bed.

You took it from your head and sat down beside him, to take a peek at what he’d kept, “Smells nice,” you said pointing at the hat dismissively. Sirius took the hat to his nose, and it really did smell nice. While most cowboys’ hats smelled like nothing more than sweat, this one had a rather distinctive and pleasant aroma, most likely from whatever grooming products the owner used “We should ask him what cologne he’s using now.”

Sirius sighed “You miss him, do you not?”

You shrugged, ignoring the question “We’ve picked very different paths to his own,” you said simply, a tone that let Sirius know that you did not want to talk about it. But after all, it had also been why you never shot him directly.

You all knew The Wolf of Moonridge, except you knew him as Remus.

Sirius traced his finger over your clothed thigh, and you gave him a soft smile, one that contrasted with whatever mask it was you wore when you stepped outside the hideouts and onto a raid. One that only he and maybe James were allowed to see, he loved it. And then gave you a similar face in return. He grabbed onto your hand and pulled it towards his, taking the ring from his small finger and slipping it onto your ring one. Sirius had always had relatively thin fingers, even for a man.

You extended your hand with a half smile and looked at it, turning it around swiftly as you stared “Looks good on me, doesn’t it?”

“Anything looks beautiful on you,” he said, and then smirked “In fact, nothing looks better on you.”

You gave him a rather incredulous look with his suggestive little tone, he pulled you by the hips on top of him, the rest of the gems and jewels he had stolen already forgotten on the bed as he pulled you into a heated kiss. You were already halfway removing the buttons of his shirt when there was a rather urgent knock on the door.

You both ignored it, and went back to kissing, but the person persisted, both of you separated from each other and looked at the door “What?” you said at the same time, annoyance laced in your tone.

“We’ve been found out. Moony followed us somehow.”

“What?!” You asked with a frown “Not Hideout 6!” you whined.

“That clever son of a bitch,” Sirius huffed “Alright luv,” he said, his hand patting your leg “Time for some action,” he added with a half smile.

You hummed in response. As Sirius stood up, you grabbed the bag and threw all the jewels inside, fastening it to your belt before putting your boots on, “Hey babe?” He hummed, “Don’t you think Sheriff Moons grew up rather handsome?”

Sirius threw you a look “He grew up fine,” he responded.

“Aye he did,” you said. “If it were a different situation, perhaps we could drag him to our bed.”

He looked at you, eyes narrowing “You want to drag him to your bed, don’t you?”

You shrugged, putting on the sheriff’s hat again “He smells really nice.”

Sirius laughed at the silly innocent smile you were giving him after hearing such a request “If anyone can convince him, it’s definitely you darling…” He dragged you by the waist and placed another kiss on your lips, taking some time to smell the sides of your face, exactly where you had placed the hat earlier “You’re right, he does.”

When you separated you smiled up at him, and then you heard a gunshot, “I hope he doesn’t fucking ruin hideout 6 for everyone,” you said with a huff as you took a кnife and placed your gun in your hostler. Sirius grabbed you by the waist again, pulling you to him. Your eyes shone with lust at the instructions he whispered into your ear, “And that would work?” you asked, turning to him with a shrewd look.

“Don’t overestimate your abilities, darling,” he told you with a wink and nodded, a sly smirk forming on your face as you both placed yourselves on each side of the door. Sirius opened it carefully, the gunshots still going off in the distance.

There was a moment of heavy breathing as the door opened completely, and then Sirius leaned over the frame, only letting a little of his head out as he searched for signs of someone. He pulled back and nodded. The two of you stepped out, guns held high as you walked down the stairs.

Midway down, you heard a gunshot, the bullet biting onto the wood of the railling and spluttering to the side. You looked around, they were shooting from the outside, Barty and Evan were shooting from one of the windows while Peter and James were on the sides of the front door, the hinges had been torn apart by a gunslinger with surprising accuracy and the door was currently laying on the floor.

“Well there goes hideout six,” you mumbled “How many?”

“At least 6 of them,” Barty responded.

“Sheriff’s with them,” James warned.

You took a deep breath but nodded looking at Sirius and tilted your head just a little “Andromeda's Strategy?”

Sirius took a second to process your suggestion and nodded in response “We’re doing Andromeda, get ready.”

You smiled, in seconds the boys were shooting and both you and Sirius finished walking down the stairs and into a more secluded area. You walked to the side of the house and used a lighter to turn on a long fuse that was connected to the garden with an underground pipe. “Ears!” you shouted, and everyone placed their hands over their own.

3…2…1… Boom!

The explosion caused some of the men to fall back and then started emitting a good deal of smoke. You didn’t say a thing, everyone knew what they had to do. Sirius mounted Firebolt and offered you his hand, but you shook your head “I’m taking his horse, he’ll have to follow.”

Sirius gave you an incredulous look, and then smiled proudly “I’ll see you at our spot later, deal?”

You nodded with a little smirk as you bit your lip. “If things go as planned, we’ll definitely have fun.”

Sirius winked at you and started riding away. You took that as your sign and went through the smoke. The others were still distracted enough not to notice you when you walked behind them, uniting most of their horses and firing a shot just next to them to scare them away. You mounted Moony’s horse and let the last one free, but you didn’t prompt it to run, after all, Remus would have to find a way to follow you.

Once some of the smoke dissipated, you made sure Remus saw you, pulling the horse back a little to make him stand on his back legs for just a second before riding away. The boys were already riding in all sorts of directions, all different to your own and the men didn’t know who to follow behind, until Remus gave them orders.

He’s certainly good at giving orders, you thought as you waved at him with a taunting smile on your face. One of his men, a short, disagreeable-looking dude pointed his gun at you, and you stared at him, you knew he was a bad shot from the sole way he stood, legs wobbling and posture askew, poor dude, it might have been his first day. He fired the shot, but Remus pushed him away before he tried again “Not at my horse,” he said sternly.

You smiled “Yeah, not at his horse,” you repeated and rode off. Remus mounted the only horse left and indicated the others to follow behind the trial of the rest of the marauders.

“She’s the best shot in the county boss, it’s a bad idea to go alone.”

“I’ll be fine,” Remus said, offering no further explanation before following behind you.

You both sped through the desert, it didn’t take him that long to catch up with you “Darling, I’m gonna need you to give back my horse and my hat,” he shouted, as he levelled with you.

“And surrender like that?” you asked with a pout “That wouldn’t be fun Remus,” you said before spurring the horse, leaving Moony behind.

Eventually, when you lost sight of him, you walked inside a small abandoned-looking little house, where you used to live before your family passed away. You walked inside and waited, you started to get bored at some point and went to rummage through the kitchen. You heard the creak of a floorboard and then someone was hauling you from the back, a кnife at your throat and a strong arm pressing you against his chest with enough force to keep you there but not enough to hurt you.

You pulled your hips back against his “Is that a gun or are you just happy to see me?”

He tightened his grip, кnife prickling at the tender skin of your neck “Come on… why do you do this?” he asked.

“Because it’s fun Moons,” you replied as you felt the кnife pierce just slightly, deciding to pull your hips back again, this time making sure to roll them against his.

“Stop that!” he ordered.

“Make me,” you responded with a devilish little smirk, he hauled you off him and onto a nearby wall, кnife still at your throat.

“Come on darling-“

“It’s Fox now,” you interrupted.

“Does Sirius also call you that now?”

You didn’t respond, jaw clenching slightly.

“Thought so,” he said with a nod and whispered your name, almost a plea, completely in contrast with the way he had you against the wall, a small line of bIood already dripping from your neck, “Just… come back.”

“Back where?!” you said with a frown “With Uncle Cliff? So he can sell me off to the first old banker that asks for my hand? No, thank you.”

“Marry me, I’ll ask Cliff for your hand.”

You scoffed the кnife digging deeper into your skin, Remus pulled it back when he noticed, not having realised he had caused you to bleed, “What a hell of a proposal, with a кnife against my neck and one against your ribs.”

“What кnife against my–?” He looked down and realised your hand toying with one of the buttons of his vest, he sighed and turned back to you “I’m faster. I’ve always been faster.”

“No doubt,” you smiled, “but you want to slice my throat as much as I want to get married to an old rich banker.”

“You don’t want to stab me either,” he said as he pulled back, raising his hand and placing the кnife on its hoster. “The offer’s on, either way.”

You raised your eyebrows, leaning back against the wall and using your ascot to clean the bIood from your neck. “The marriage proposal you mean?” He looked to the side but nodded. “Why didn’t you ask me before?”

That seemed to take him by surprise “I’m sorry?”

“Before this,” you said, arms open, trying to express before you became who you were now.

He swallowed “You’d always liked Sirius.”

“That’s bullshit.”

He huffed “I thought you wouldn’t want me.”

That pulled a frown “What? Why?”

Then he pulled a look at you, a frown and a small tilt of his head as if he didn’t want to say it. He didn’t want to say it was because of the way he looked, because of the scars, because he had nothing to offer you back then.

You gasped “Don’t be ridiculous, you must get hundreds of women thrown at you, the Handsome Wolf of Moonridge, you think I haven’t heard the stories?”

“They’re not like you.”

“You hold way too high standards for me Moons, I think I’m just like them, swayed by the handsome cowboy,” you said and walked towards him, placing your hand on his badge “And the little shiny star on his chest.”

He frowned, “You just want me to let you go,” he said bitterly.

“Au contraire,” you said with a tilt of the head. “I want you to join us. We could use a great gunslinger.”

He raised his eyebrows “to stop being the Sheriff and join your gang of outlaws?”

“Mh-hm,” you said, your hands were now on his neck, tracing over some of the scars with a feather-like touch.

“No.”

You stood on your toes to whisper in his ear, “Allow me to persuade you.”

“NO,” he repeated, stronger this time, you smiled. You could hear the wavering in his voice.

You pressed a soft kiss, wet kiss to his jaw, and you felt him tense, another kiss and he was relaxing against you, his body giving in while his mind still raised with thoughts, you continued kissing until you reached the corner of his mouth, pressing a kiss that lasted just a second longer before pulling away “Tell me if you want me to stop,” you said looking at him, a deadIy serious tone in your voice.

Remus looked at you, eyes pleading before he placed his hands on the sides of your head and pulled you into a kiss. You kissed back instantly, brushing your tongue over his and deepening the kiss when he parted them to let you in. Remus was kissing you like you were the air he needed to breathe, and you kissed back in a similarly desperate manner.

Eventually, you pulled apart to take a breath, and you saw his doubtful face. He was about to say something when you leaned down to trail kisses from his jaw to his neck, fighting with the collar of his shirt for more space.

He saw you reach for your кnife, and he let you, if he was going to diе in between your kisses, then it would be the sweetest farewell a man like him could hope for. But you only used it to cut the buttons of his vest, letting the кnife fall on the floor before pulling the piece of clothing off from him. He allowed you, he’d allow you to do whatever the hell you wanted to him at that point if he was being honest.

He had been pretty passive up until then, but the moment you grazed over his thin linen shirt with your fingernails he seemed to be brought back. Placing his hand on your hips and pushing you further onto the wall, you smiled in between kisses as he pressed his knee in between your legs. You were still kissing him as you started to rock your hips against his leg, grinding on him shamelessly.

He groaned at the feeling of your hips rolling back and forth, grabbing your hair and pulling it lightly to get your lips away from his neck, to be able to look at your face again, to make sure it was real, to make sure it really had been you.

You smiled when you realised he was staring, thinking of a snarky remark to give only for it to be caught in your throat the moment he leaned down to kiss it. Licking over the place he had unwittingly cut and savouring the taste of sweat and copper “I’m sorry,” he mumbled against it as he continued to press kisses, “I’m sorry,” he repeated. Neither Remus nor you were sure if he was sorry for slicing your skin, for not daring to ask you to marry him before you became “Fox”, or for taking this long to finally press his lips to yours, perhaps it was all of it.

“Then make it up to me,” you managed to say with another roll of your hips against his leg.

He hummed into your neck, a mischievous smile, reminiscent of when you were children appeared on his lips “Tell me what you want.”

There were so many things that you wanted, but the only thing that could come to your mind in that precise instant was “Fewer clothes.”

“Yours or mine?” he teased and you huffed in response as he pulled his hands from you to unbutton his shirt and pull it off, he then went for yours, untying the ascot with his hands and teeth and immitting your earlier movement by taking his кnife to break the buttons of your shirt apart, and pulling it off along with your jacket, leaving you only with a corset.

He took his moment to look, to appreciate, before you spoke “Commission a drawing, it’ll last longer,” you teased.

“Sirius must have hundreds already, I could always confiscate them when we finally trap you.”

“Or you could ask for them nicely once you join our team,” you countered.

He huffed a laugh in response “And now?”

“And now?” You repeated.

“What else do you want?” he asked, his fingers tracing over your collarbone, torturous feather light touches that made you feel like you were on fire.

You flushed and his gaze darkened, “touch me,” you whispered and he complied, his hands trailing all over your body shamelessly as he started to flex his thigh muscles, causing you to go back to riding it, with his help now.

He too, without being prompted, went back to kissing your neck, now trailing kisses down your collarbone and towards the valley of your breasts. Lucious, soft breasts that would press against the fabric of your corset whenever you breathed, taunting him. He wanted to see them bare, and so he trailed his hands through your back and felt the laces. He toyed with one of the ends before looking at you, you nodded and he undid the top, trying to unlace it as he kissed.

But Remus wasn’t a particularly patient man, even being often teased by his friends due to his sometimes explosive temperament. He went back to his hoster and took the кnife out. “Don’t move,” he commanded. You stared at him with a smirk as he peered over your shoulder, grazing the skin of your back with the кnife before latching it against the lacing of your corset and cutting them all open in one swift motion.

You smiled, holding the piece of clothing against yourself and releasing only when he had pulled back enough to see. You let it slowly fall from your chest, it wasn’t even halfway down when he fisted it and threw it to the side, desperate to see you.

To see you up front, to see what his imagination had been showing him for so many years but better, brighter, warmer, softer and alive. He had seen a few of Sirius’ drawings, all from the fantasies of his head from when they were younger, but nothing compared to this, nothing compared to you.

“Fuck you’re so beautiful,” he murmured under his breath.

“Could have it every day if you joined us,” you said, taking one of his hands in yours and leading it to one of your breasts.

He smiled at you, eyebrows raised but complied, letting your hand guide his, squeezing and then pinching your now hardened nipples “Could also have the entire law system behind my back, having to turn my head and worrying about getting shot every ten seconds,” he responded sarcastically as he trailed kisses down your neck towards the breast he wasn’t touching yet, “Not being able to sleep properly, always with a gun under my pillow and a кnife strapped to my leg.”

You moaned when he kissed your breast, he was enjoying the way the soft, supple flesh pushed under his mouth and sprang back just as he pulled away to look “Wouldn’t it be worth it?” you asked, breathless.

The sounds you were making were driving the man to insanity, him fading and fading away, leaving only the hungry wolf. He hummed as he took your nipple in between his teeth and nibbled on it softly, causing yet another moan to erupt from your mouth. Perhaps it would be, he thought.

You lowered your hand towards his pants, palming him softly as he groaned into your breast. He was hard and he was definitely big, a testament to his height after all. You couldn’t be sure until you actually saw him, but he felt bigger than Sirius did.

“Fuck, dove…” he said as you started stroking him gently, hand still over his pants, dragging up and down and gripping unto him when you felt the outline against your palm.

“Language Sheriff,” you teased, this time it was you who pulled his hair and dragged him towards your lips, kissing him with an almost feverish ardour that left the two of you breathless, all the while you continued to rock your hips against his thigh and he continued to flex his muscles against your cunt. And your hand, that devious hand of yours, the sharpest shot in the west, trading the gun for his cock, never stopping the lazy and soft strokes. “Ask me that question of yours again Remus…” you breathed into his mouth when your lips separated for just a second.

He smirked into your lips “Tell me doll, what do you want?”

You smiled “I want you to…” you breathed “touch more.”

He looked surprised at your request, and you used the moment to drag the hand on your waist lower, enough to bring it in between your pants. Remus took the opportunity and seized it, using his free hand to unbutton the few buttons that kept the pants in position and freely roam around, you were wet, almost impossibly wet. He didn’t wait too much, tracing his fingers through your folds as he used his knee to hoist you up and get better access, massaging and exploring the sensitive area until he discovered a spot that made you tighten your grip around his bicep, digging your nails so hard you almost pierced his skin.

“You want more of that?” he asked as he brought his lips back to your neck, you nodded and pushed your hips against his hand again, chasing for more friction and he chuckled, shaking his head in between kisses “No, no, use that pretty little mouth of yours to ask for it dove,” he tutted.

You whined in response, and he just chuckled further, taking his hand away and placing it on your leg “Remus!” you warned.

“Yes, dove? What do you want?” he asked calmly.

You scoffed in frustration licking your lips as you fought your way to surrender, and then you thought of yet another way to rile the man up “I want your fingers, Remus. I want them inside me, now.”

He considered asking you to say please at least, to beg, but he was mildly aware that you may or may not bonk him in the head if he dared to do such a thing, so he only listened, dragging his fingers back to your cunt, toying with your clit until he was satisfied with how wet his hands were and then, without a warning, digging two fingers inside you. Your breath hitched in your throat and your nails dug into his bicep even more, leaving little crescent moons imprinted on his skin, very proper for the Wolf of Moonridge.

“Hurts?” he asked breathlessly. You buckled your hips against his fingers in response. “Good,” he added and started pumping them in and out, curling them inside of you and toying with your clit as he did “You’re so fucking tight,” he mumbled, more to himself, but you heard either way, and clenched around his fingers, causing yet a few other curses to leave his mouth.

As he fingerfucked you, you brought your free hand down, stopping your own strokes to take it off, unbuttoning his pants and letting them fall on the floor with a thud as you also took the button of his briefs off. His cock pretty much sprang and bumped with his belly as they too fell on the floor. You buckled your hips against his hand, head pulling back and biting your lips as he touched a particularly sensitive spot.

“Fuck Remus,” you breathed out, his name on your lips making the most pleasurable sound he’d ever heard.

He repeated his actions and in a matter of seconds, he had you panting, barely managing to make a coherent thought until you clenched around him again, hips making the most erratic movements until you leaned down your head against his bare shoulder as he slowed his pace.

“So… You still very sure you don’t want to be the Sheriff’s little wife?” he asked in cocky tone.

It took you a minute to process his question, his fingers still moving inside you although the pace had slowed significantly, and then you stared down, his cock was still there, hard and proud, a bit of precum brimming from the tip, you smiled and reached down, wrapping your hand around him and relishing on the way he groaned, the sound so close to your ear you almost shivered in return. You moved your hand up and then down and then toyed with the tip. Sirius had taught you how good it made men feel, seemed to be working just as well on Moony.

As you stroked him, Remus’ fingers became less confident, less focused, almost lost in the pleasure you were giving him, he was panting, you had managed to stand straighter and he had his head on your shoulder now, head cloudy and kissing your neck whenever his head allowed him to make a coherent thought. He had never felt this good with anyone. Whatever it was you were doing to him, you clearly knew what to do.

“Ask me that question again,” you taunted.

He seemed fazed, blinking at you in between pants “What,” breath “do you,” another deep breath “want?”

You smiled at that “I want this,” you tightened your grip around his cock just a little “now.”

That seemed to bring Remus’ vigour back, he pulled his leg from under you and allowed you to fall back on the ground, you pushed your pants off as fast as you could and Remus took a moment to look at you, to really look at your naked frame and his pupils were blown, much more that they had been in the past. He tried to memorise every curve and corner and crevice, scared he wouldn’t be able to see them again, you saw the way he stared at you and bit your lip “I said now, Remus.”

He didn’t make you wait another second, placing both of his hands on the side of your waist and hoisting you up on him, so you were straddling him, you bit your lip at the feeling of his thick and warm cock against your folds, and grinded against him by pushing your hips and tightening your legs around his torso. He tightened his hold on your waist, his breath growing heavier as he felt your wetness against him directly.

You rolled your hips again “All right, hold on,” he said “I’m trying to adjust.” You just rolled your hips against him again, causing the skin around his cock to ride down, and prompting him to hiss. “I said wait goddamnit,” he insisted a bit more commanding this time around.

You smirked “I like it when you order me around Sheriff Moons,” you joked, and he threw you a warning look, you opened your mouth again, but he had taken his cock into his hands and rubbed the tip to your clit, so instead of another witty remark you only managed to gasp.

It was he who smirked now, but then he stared at you, looking at you attentively “I’m going in,” he informed, and then he did, slowly, to allow you to adjust to his size, not completely at first, only the tip before pulling out again, next time he went in he pushed a little further again. You breathed slowly, he didn’t move, not until you started to clench around him, almost drawing him in even more “You feel so fucking good dove.”

That was all the encouragement you needed, you rolled your hips against his, a little harshly and he pushed towards you again, you let a sound in between a whine and a moan and he repeated the action, pushing in and out just to hear that sweet sound of yours again. The sound that made him go wolfish, undomesticated, wild.

Like an animal, like the wolf they always compared him with, he had no control, not when he was with you. At some point, you felt his lips on yours again, and you kissed back eagerly, you’d never taken Remus as a romantic, but then again, the way he was fucking you against the wall wasn’t exactly the most romantic either, he was harsh and strong and he pushed in and out of you with a ferocity that had you mumbling his name incoherently, sometimes Moons, sometimes Moony, sometimes Remus. That was his favourite.

Regardless, there was something about the way he held you close to him, the way his hands would travel up and down your thigh, almost reverently, that you could see there was care behind his actions, perhaps something more, something hidden and locked up for years out of fear.

At some point his movements became a little erratic, you clenched around him, just to tease and he bit your earlobe in response “I’m going to…”

“Yeah, I know…” you responded. He pulled out of you, ready to catch it with his hand, but then he turned to you, a mischievous smile on his lips “where do you want me?”

You were almost taken aback by his words, but you wouldn’t pass out such an opportunity, you kneeled down in front of him, and peered at him through your lashes “In my mouth.”

He froze, and you smiled, the very reaction you had expected. Then you nodded your head and dragged it closer to him, wrapping your lips around his tip, and bobbing your head, just once, and you felt the spurts of liquid into your mouth, you bobbed again, helping him empty himself before separating completely, a line of spit forming between your mouth and his cock. You looked up at him as you panted, breath heavy and chest rising up and down, your nipples still perked, your lips wet and glossy, you were the prettiest sight he’d ever seen and he was about to lean down to kiss you again when you spoke.

“Have I convinced you yet?”

Remus didn’t say a thing, he looked at you as a deer trapped in the headlights would, still hazy and seeing stars from his close orgasm, but then he heard someone clear his throat, and he was quite literally looking at a star now, Sirius.“If she hasn’t,” Sirius said as he tilted his head in the most lustful and cocksure expression he had ever seen in his life, biting his lascivious lips before he spoke again “I may have an idea of how we can convince you… together.”

A/N: well I’d been wanting to write e Cowboy au for a while, and while there are still some other tropes that I would have liked to use (like the ties to the railroad trope) I’m pretty happy with the final result hehe. Especially with some of those dialogues between the reader and Remus. I literally had to stop writing to take a breather more than once.

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hotpinkboots · 1 year

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~𝕽𝖊𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙 𝕲𝖚𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖘~

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HELLO THERE, DARLING! My requests are always OPEN! Feel free to spam my inbox as much as you like, there is no limit! I have a wide variety of things for you to request- from popular videogames and action-packed movie trilogies, spooky Tim Burton movies and cult classics, to the most obscure and underrated media, I've got something for everybody! Drop in a few requests, love! Tags: #pinkie speakie (random/related to fanfic/answering anons) #pink's fanfic (fanfiction tag)

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Movies: (Note: I have seen SO many movies, I would hit the Tumblr character limit if I listed them all. There are a lot of movies I'd write with that aren't listed here, so always feel free to ask about unlisted movies!)

•Rocky Horror Picture Show •Shock Treatment •Edward Scissorhands •Corpse Bride •Charlie and the Chocolate Factory •Sweeney Todd The Demon Barber of Fleet Street(2007) •Beetlejuice (1988) •Nightmare Before Christmas •Miss Peregrine's Home For Peculiar Children(2016) •Dark Shadows (2012) •Alice In Wonderland(2010)+ Alice Through The Looking Glass(2016) •Les Miserables (2012) •Great Expectations (2012) •Hocus Pocus •The Lone Ranger (2013) •Maleficent •Oceans 8 •Coraline •The Addams Family (1991) + Addams Family Values (1993) •Halloween(Michael Myers) •Friday The 13th (Jason Voorhees) •The Phantom Of The Opera (2004) •Little Shop Of Horrors (1986) •Labyrinth (1986) •The Lost Boys (1987) •The Princess Bride •Psycho (1960) •Dracula (1931) •Death Becomes Her •Clue

Movie Sagas and Trilogies:

•Star Wars(Originals, prequels, sequels, The Mandalorian. Wil not write animated Star Wars.) •Harry Potter •Pirates Of The Caribbean •Lord Of The Rings

Shows and YouTube Series:

•Steven Universe •Adventure Time •Over The Garden Wall •What We Do In The Shadows •ENA •Don't Hug Me I'm Scared •Salad Fingers

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•Undertale •Deltarune •Five Nights At Freddy's •SCP Containment Breach

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•Yandere •Angst •Fluff •ADHD •Love Triangles (Character A + Character B fighting over the Reader) •Mildly Heated Scenes (but NOT full-on smut) •Random+Obscure Headcanon Ideas •Mixing Fandoms (Example(s): Erik Destler x Reader x Dracula, Mettaton x Nightmare Animatronic!Reader) •Headcanons •Female reader (You may also request gender-neutral, but be aware that all of my writing will be aimed at the ladies.)

etc., feel free to ask questions!

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✨Note:✨ I will not write about something I do not have, or something I don't have experience with, for I don't know the topic enough to do so. It's not my place to write with things I have no personal experience with.

•Disabilities (such as autism, deaf/hard of hearing, physical disabilities, ect.) •Trans Reader •Pregnancy •Smut (implied smut is fine) •Male Reader (Only Female/Gender Neutral) •As stated before, no smut, but can be implied. •Incest (Magenta & Riff Raff + Nation & Cosmo are the ONLY EXCEPTIONS. Do NOT ASK for anything beyond them, you will be blocked.) •Homophobia •Racism

etc., feel free to ask questions!

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unhinged-summer-fun · 2 years

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my chernabog romance

Happy Danktober 1st! Today's prompts are Breathplay, Gargoyle, and National Coffee Day! (It legit is national coffee day, drink up babes)

Chernabog x F!Reader (22+ Only)

Summary: Sometimes it's difficult dating one of Satan's most trusted lieutenants. Somehow you make it work.

Warnings: If you're put off by relationships where one of the people beings involved can't communicate by means of language, this is one of those. Methods of consent are there but removed from context for HUMOR purposes not kink purposes. This is utter monsterfuckery.

Word Count: 1,457

A/N: Y'all idk. Proceed at your own risk. This is absolutely the tone I'm setting for the next month. Happy halloween, it's fuckin bats.

[full danktober list here]

"You fucking gargoyle! What have you done?!" you shrieked.

The hulking, winged monster in the corner stayed quiet as he glowered, more put off by the name you called him than your outrage. You stormed up to him with the damning tatters of fabric in your hands, presenting them to him in an accusatory manner.

"This is the fifth time. Five times you've done this to my bras. Five!"

His glower shifted to indignant confusion. Your rage only multiplied.

"THIS WEEK!" your voice reached a shrill pitch, and the dark spirits which lived (well, dwelled) ever-present in the corners of your apartment slunk away into the drywall to avoid your wrath. With the room just a shade brighter, your boyfriend seemed to grow alarmed, defensive but almost hurt.

He made a confused grunt, a grating noise only some cellos could recreate. Those soulless black eyes that didn't glint so much as flash with the fires of hell, widened, almost pleading, if a monster like him could even plead.

You sighed and held your head. "Don't look at me like that, fuck."

You sank down onto the couch and hung your head, running your thumbs over the shredded remains of the last in-tact bra you had in your wardrobe. Another sigh, weary and resigned, left your lips, and a gray clawed hand wrapped around your shoulder, one razor-sharp talon plucking at the edge of your sweater and unraveling the threads just a little.

He hummed, a sinister noise that shook your bones like earthquakes.

He was trying to apologize through foreplay.

"No, I don't think so, mister." You shrugged off his hand and turned away, pouting.

The noise he made next was aghast, joined by a single flap of a wing in protest to your refusal.

"No, you know the rules. You know th--" The hand returned to your shoulder and you shrugged it off again. "Stop that."

Now the chernabog was truly confused. He could always apologize through orgasmic methods before. Those deep, furrowed lines that filled the role of eyebrows grew deeper and furrowed-er. You ignored him.

He wasn't having that. The clawed hand wrapped around your throat, fingers too large to hold all of it at once. His pinky trailed under the collar of your sweater and he tilted your head up easily with his infernal strength. You glared.

It wasn't a look he was used to. He snarled at you, demanding you answer for your behavior.

"No."

Another snarl, brimstone heat forced from behind his teeth.

"You cannot give me that look and expect me to bow to every whim of yours, babe."

A 'brow' lifted, a look he learned from you that you were regretting ever teaching him to do.

"Quit it. No pussy for misbehaving monsters."

He released you and stalked off, before taking flight and landing in the steel rafters of the industrial loft you cohabited. He took a page from your book, perching and facing away from you with his tail even tucked up under him.

You threw your hands up and stomped over to the kitchen. "Fine then. Pout. Would you like some coffee?"

The question slipped out on reflex in the way it always did when you started up the coffee maker. You were hospitable, but you really needed a task to do with your hands right now. He was pissing you off. That was the last fucking bra...

He didn't answer.

The dark spirits were curiously returning to their corners, watching you with soulless eyes from faceless heads. You ignored them, making two cups. His cup was significantly bigger by virtue of him being significantly bigger. You thought you saw one of his pointed ears twitch when you opened a bottle of lamb's blood to use as his coffee creamer, but he stayed resolutely in the rafters.

You sighed again, feeling anxious. "I'm going to leave your cup over here..." You set it on the unholy stone altar he'd demanded of you upon moving in. You didn't have the heart (literally, after last Valentine's Day) to tell him it was a fireplace.

Fwoosh. Thump. Click click.

"What are you doing?" you asked, when he wrapped his arms around your waist. You held onto them, tracing the massive bones in his wrist. He was cool, like marble or granite. You loved the feeling of being trapped here within his grasp, like he'd been carved from stone just to hold you. He didn't say anything, but you felt his head rest on top of yours, making you look up. He quietly spun you around.

He looked bashful, if a heinous beast could ever be. You were starting to second-guess his inability to beg.

"Of course I forgive you, I just... I liked that bra."

A snort, matching the heat of a train emerging from a tunnel.

"I know, I know, I've told you a billion times I hate bras. But this one was at least kinda comfortable."

Another snort. Doubt.

"I don't hate the physical actual bra, I hate the concept of bras."

He had no irises or eyes, but he was rolling them nonetheless.

You put a hand on his chest, over the place where your heart now beat inside him. "I know you want to solve all my problems for me, you want to kill all my enemies until none but worshipers and the fearful remain, and I like that. It's sweet of you. Bras are just kind of... essential enemies?"

That cello-noise again, genuine confusion. It strung out a little higher, and those not-brows lifted as one.

"No! Not you. You're not an essential enemy. You're just evil. I love that about you, I promise. I would never want you to change." You took his face in your hands, ignoring the slight burn that came. Oh no, you'd embarrassed him. You tried to explain. "Sometimes you just have to let me deal with my own enemies in my own way. Bras are like that. It's my eternal torture to bear. And I don't mind it."

He sighed (another affect he'd learned from you) and unhinged his jaw to envelop your face in his mouth. Peering into the back of his throat, you could still see the bloody mess of your heart, beating even though he'd swallowed it months ago.

"I love you too," you said, your voice echoing like whispers in a mausoleum.

He pulled back and embraced you in a way that made your ribs ache, before letting you go and accepting his coffering (coffee offering, he didn't think it was funny but you did) and devouring it instantly, almost eating the mug again like last time. He sent a hellish wind to carry it to the sink, gently resting it beside the others you'd yet to wash.

It was a far cry from the broken porcelain of when you first joined households.

He looked to the ground, the way foolish mortals looked to the heavens for answers. A waking nightmare pushed into your mind, the vision of a bottomless black pit and spectral fog of misty malice rising eternal from the abyssal void.

"No, I don't think your mother would understand, but she's an amazing woman, I could be wrong. Do void-mists wear bras?"

He shrugged, and stroked a possessive hand over your head, pulling you closer. The sound of your heart in the cage of his chest filled you with regret.

"I'm sorry I called you a gargoyle. You're more to me than that."

A soft grunt most men would have pissed themselves at hearing told you that you were forgiven. The hand on your head moved back around to where it had been before, around your throat.

You smiled, and he leered. He was sweet to ask.

"Okay, okay, you can choke me this time." He crooned a soft and haunting moan that shook the bricks of the apartment, and you felt his dick stiffen at the offer to defile your body once more. "But no--" you put your hands on his fingers to get him to release you enough to speak. "Hold on. Hold on. Don't kill me this time, babe. I have to work Tuesday and the resurrection spell makes me feel all woozy. Don't kill me this time. Save it for the weekend."

The promise of getting to kill you lit a literal fire in his eyes. You felt your stomach fill with butterflies. Those eyes raked over your body as he lifted you from the ground by your neck.

"Okay, big guy. You can rip my clothes off this time."

He did end up killing you on accident again, but he also killed your boss later, so you really didn't have to worry about the wooziness after all.

#danktober 2022 #unhingery #f!reader #chernabog #chernabog x reader #hot nights on bald mountain

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freedfromthegalactichivemind · 2 years

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Hordak and the Hair!

She-Ra Fanfiction Entrapdak Entrapdak Mini-Month Prompt / Theme - Halloween Summary: Entrapta convinces Hordak to help her take Imp and some of the clones out Trick or Treating. ____________________

Hordak and the Hair

“They’re Hordak and the Hair! Yes! Hordak and the Hair! One’s a dark overlord! The other’s just there! To prove their oddball worth, they’ll overthrow…Etheria…” “Kadroh! That doesn’t even rhyme!” “Well, it’s all I could come up with on short notice, Sister Entrapta!” Entrapta had decided to introduce her family to the tradition of “Trick or Treating” for the Harvest Holiday – All Hallows Eve, meant to honor the year’s dead, to face one’s fears and to exercise imagination. The activity entailed going out in costumes and begging people for candy. At least “begging” was how Hordak put it and he couldn’t feel any less dignified. It made Entrapta and Imp happy, so he engaged. Entrapta and Hordak were walking the streets of Bright Moon, followed by Kadroh (formerly Wrong Hordak), Imp, Emily (with an expanded cargo compartment) and several clones. They were all dressed in interesting costumes. Emily was painted to resemble a giant pumpkin. Imp had a fuzzy black and yellow sweater on, a headband with bobbling antennae and his tail was painted black – all to make him resemble a bumblebee – a strange, bat-winged bumblebee, but one nonetheless. Kadroh was wearing a cape and a medallion and had colored his hair black. He was meant to be a character called “Dracula.” There were others meant to resemble characters from stories that Entrapta and Hordak had picked up on their “inter-dimensional cable” service (harvesting tele-visual waves from across the cosmos) as well as characters from Etherian folklore. One clone had his hair frizzed out and a fake patch of “drool” painted upon his chin. He carried a prop-device filled with a knockoff version of amniotic fluid. Another was dressed in a fake fur bikini-bottom and a big faux-metal chest-plate, meant to be a barbarian warrior from an ancient native story. There was, of course, someone dressed as the She-Ra. Still another donned a dark cape and cowl, a spacebat being a “Batman.” There was a pair in long black robes carrying pole and cardboard scythes meant to be “Grim Reapers.” Hordak and Entrapta… wore big fake white mouse ears and long pink tails. They were cosplaying “Pinky and the Brain.” It was a tele-visual broadcast harvested from deep space that Entrapta had become obsessed with. Hordak enjoyed it, too, despite its theme of constant failure striking quite close to his hearts uncomfortably. The fact that “The Brain’s” schemes were incredibly convoluted made up for that and he learned to appreciate the humor, as well as the character’s determination. It still rather embarrassed him to be out in the open in such a ridiculous costume pretending to be a lab mouse. He thought that Kadroh’s costume would suit him much better, or that of one of the Reapers. Kadroh insisted upon singing that ridiculous song the whole way – a modified version of the show’s theme. The reception they got at people’s doorways was mixed. Etherian adults accustomed to passing out candy to children indulged the clones, as the “poor dears” had spent their lives without a childhood. Hordak’s glowing red-eyed glare, expending a sense of menace, did not hurt in influencing the populace. Everyone got the large size candy bars, except for Entrapta, who preferred the Fun Size. At one of the houses, Kadroh got a rock. It was a pretty rock, a very shiny rock, so he had no complaints. By the evening’s close, Hordak couldn’t help but smile at the ridiculous song since “The Hair” had decided to wrap herself around him, holding on by her long locks. His armor was holding up well and she’d grown tired – something that he thought almost an impossibility for her. “Please do not eat all of the candy at once, Brothers,” he said to the other clones. “Why not?” Entrapta said. “Could sure use the energy for what we’ve been working on.” “You, too,” Hordak said, securing her close with one armored arm. “There is a difference between working-energy and making yourself sick.” “We should do this again next year.” “Absolutely not. You and I are a little old for it.” “Hmm…never too old for Halloween.”

#spop #she-ra fanfiction #entrapta #hordak #imp (spop)#emily (spop)#horde clones #spacebats #wrong hordak #reaper brothers #entrapdak mini month #halloween

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everythingcanadian · 2 years

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The Forbidden Forest Conceals

Summary:

Thomas ends up with a confession on his hands in the Forbidden Forest. Halloween Prompts day 3: Forest Rated for Teen and up. Tags: Forest, 31 days of Halloween

The forbidden forest, the place where the first through seventh years get detention. And Mr Thomas Barrow happened to be the one to dole out the punishment tonight. Surprisingly it was two Hufflepuffs and, least surprisingly, a Slytherin. The Hufflepuffs had set off glitter bomb howlers from friends they grew up with.

The Slytherin had ended up not paying attention in Mrs. Patmore’s potions class and caused a blazing fire to be set off in his cauldron, burning a nice ring of soot into the ceiling. Not only that but his blond hair had to be trimmed back due to the ends burning off. Even in his seventh year he still did not know when it was time to pay attention or risk life and limb.

Thomas had heard of Mr. Jimmy Kent’s escapades in his younger years but it had been Jimmy’s sixth year that Thomas had come on as a professor. Finding out quickly that Jimmy was not as stupid as he made himself out to be but was just getting himself into trouble because he was bored. That and he had found that he quite liked Thomas’s company whenever he was in detention or in his Arithmancy class.

Thomas, being the arithmancy professor, had had the two Hufflepuffs in his class when the howlers came soaring into his classroom, screaming "EAT THIS" before exploding into rainbow shaped glitter on their desks. Desks that were at opposite corners of the room. One such desk was close to Thomas's and the glitter landed right into his tea cup and pot, soiling his orange blossom blend that was gifted to him at Christmas.

He was the head of Ravenclaw house now in his older twenties, his smarts outweighing his cunning nature as he grew up. He had mellowed out from being a Slytherin, enrolling into muggle classes after his seventh year, learning mathematics, english, sciences, and history in the muggle world. All of which helped him in his teaching at Hogwarts. However plain the subjects were, he soaked up the information.

None of that however helped him when dealing with three moronic students. They were just at the edge of the forest on the grounds, the lake not too far away as they had taken a boat to one of the older docks along the shore. Here was where the best mulch was for Herbology lessons for the fifth years. Mrs. Bates had asked specifically for it and Thomas had begrudgingly said he would collect a couple bagfuls for her. This was even before he had students to look after for detention. He was prepared with a gardening apron over his clothes, he had a couple shovels for the lot and the two canvas bags plus gloves for the work.

All three students were not as prepared for dirty work but for all of it they rolled up their sleeves and walked a little more into the forest, the darkness suddenly shrouding them and the couple lanterns they had brought. In this change of both light and temperature the two Hufflepuffs walked closer together in front of them, seeing the path ahead with the little markers the groundskeeper had placed years back. In seeing the closeness of the ones in front of them Jimmy got a little bit closer to Thomas, even so much as brushing their hands together and dragging behind a little.

“You must not do that Mr. Kent, or there will be trouble to pay.” Thomas warned softly, voice quiet but the sharpness loud and clear.

Jimmy just smirked. “And why not? It’s not as if you don’t like my teasing.” trying now to hook his pinkie into Thomas’s

Thomas stopped in his tracks and snatched his hand back, glaring at Jimmy. “Exactly why you should not be doing this. I am a professor at this school and I already have a target on my back. The last thing needed for me is to be seen flirting around with an underage student.”

“I’m not- underage, I mean. Nor are you my professor. I turned 18 this past January Mr Barrow. As of June I am free to be who I am. And the plan for my life may very well include you.” Jimmy licked his lips, finally a crack in his ever smug mask showed the nerves and the heartfelt confession if there ever was one.

Looking at Jimmy and seeing the fear of rejection in his eyes sealed it for Thomas. He sighed and shook his head, eyes squeezed closed, before opening his mouth with a quick intake of breath. “On one condition. And only this condition. We will not speak of this until the day you graduate from here, there will be nothing unbecoming of either of us. And-” his voice cracked and it felt as if the forest breathed with his anxiety, “I will- we will court properly. I want to make a proper go of it. Even if it doesn’t work.”

“Professor Barrow!” one of the Hufflepuffs yelled up ahead, probably at the digging grounds.

Thomas went to go say something else but was stopped by Jimmy’s hands on his shoulders, pulling him into a messy kiss that clashed their teeth together. It wasn’t unpleasant but it was a little painful. “Ouch.” Thomas whispered with a small laugh.

“Until school is over this is all I will have to get through the year.” Jimmy said sweetly, a smirk back on his face. He turned in the direction of the other two students and yelled out. “We’re coming. I just tripped over some roots!” He knelt into the dirt for good measure to sell his story. “I plan to make good on your condition Mr. Barrow. And hope one day I will be able to call you Thomas outside of me own head.”

#downton abbey #downton abbey cast #fic #my fic #halloween prompts #autumn #otp: thommy #thommy

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andypantsx3 · 3 years

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BABY ARE YOU PLAYING TRICKS | 2 | KIRISHIMA x READER

SUMMARY: Dressing up as sexy Red Riot for Halloween had been embarrassing enough on its own. Then you actually run into Red Riot. TAGS/WARNINGS: romance, halloween, aged-up characters, fem pronouns + afab reader, smut, oral (f receiving), 18+ mdni

FIC MASTERLIST

Yuki had laughed herself sick.

She’d doubled over and laughed long and loud, for nearly thirty full seconds, as you regarded her in utter chagrin.

“Only you,” she’d choked out, wiping tears from her eyes, careful not to smudge the vibrant color of her Pinky makeup. “Imagine if you’d saved that money to buy cheese instead.”

You groaned, prompting her to slip back into the role of actual good friend again. She straightened up and led you to the kitchen to pour you a generous glass of red wine. “Come on, it can’t have actually been that bad. You look cute.”

You scoffed. “Red Riot didn’t think so.”

She paused over your glass, then added another very large splash of wine. “If he didn’t, then he’s gay. I’ve long suspected, anyway. Ground Zero nags him like a wife on twitter.”

A huff of laughter escaped you. You knew she was just trying to make you feel better, but the quip calmed you anyway. You’d hadn’t really considered that Kirishima could be gay. He’d never had a public relationship, as far as you knew, so really his horror over the exposed pieces of your body could have been chalked up to orientation. And the thing about Ground Zero was pretty true, besides. Still, though...

“Just because he wasn’t into me doesn’t mean he’s gay,” you argued.

Yuki made an impatient noise, shoved a handful of candy corn at you, then grabbed you by a gear-shaped shoulder piece and dragged you into the living room where the rest of your friends were assembled, already several minutes into a movie that looked very dark and already quite graphic. “Ladies, smash or pass?”

She shoved you at the couch, just as several of your friends chorused, “Smash!”

You suppressed a furious blush as Yuki’s roommate Miko looked you over appreciatively, raising a suggestive eyebrow before declaring, “United States of Smash, even.”

You threw an arm over your face, feeling warm. Ugh, they were so good. With enough praise like this--and enough alcohol--you could probably forget what had happened with Red Riot and go back to living your life like before.

Now that it had been brought to your attention, the ambiguity of his orientation helped as well. Not that he was obligated to be into you, if he was straight or if he was maybe bi, but the way he’d gone so still had been absolutely mortifying. You really, really hoped it was because he was gay.

You settled into the couch, accepting more handfuls of snacks from Miko, and helped yourself to a sip of wine. The tart richness of the wine distracted you, and after a few more minutes of idle chatter, onscreen gore, and comforting handfuls of radioactively colored snacks, the tension in your shoulders began to unravel.

The rest of the evening passed in much the same way, and eventually you forgot all about the incident, focusing on the warmth of your friends, the tannins on your tongue, and the campy horror of several more movies. The girls made sure to keep you in wine and an artery-clogging amount of junk foods the entire night. Yuki took the liberty of piling herself directly on top of you, eventually giving up on maintaining the integrity of her Pinky makeup, and ended the evening with her entire face smooshed into your shoulder, leaving a large, rosy smudge in between the foam divots of your shoulder pieces.

The entire night left you relaxed, warm and loose-limbed with adoration for your friends. It was only as you were leaving that you stepped back into your costume boots and remembered what had happened. After hours with the girl squad, however, some of the bite of the incident had worn off, and you shook the feeling off as you stepped back out into the dark streets to head home.

The moon was high in the sky, almost full, a bright flash where it winked at you from between buildings. The wind had picked up, carrying the cold in, and you began to wish that Red Riot had a more insulated and conservative costume, one that covered a much larger surface area. Much as you (and the rest of the earth’s population, really) loved the sight of those heroic abs of manly justice, your own midriff was really not loving the current situation.

Few others were out this late, and you managed most of the journey without incident, treading the sidewalks quickly and quietly, the only sound the leaves crackling softly underfoot. It was only as you exited downtown, near the site of your earlier humiliation, that you became aware of another set of footsteps behind you, silent but for the whisper of leaves as they crunched in time to your own quick steps.

Instinctively, you quickened your pace. An unsettled feeling churned in your stomach as the footsteps picked up in sync with your own. Your hand shot to your bag and you groped around for your phone, fingers hovering over the dialpad.

You chanced a nervous glance behind you, anticipating the dark silhouette of a hulking man. Only, it was a woman, tall and pretty, wearing a tight, dark dress, her makeup done in the style of elaborate stitches to make her look like a doll. She gave you a small smile, and your shoulders relaxed.

And that’s when she struck.

A kick had your phone out of your hands and clattering onto the pavement, and you let out a startled yelp as she leapt onto you. The two of you went tumbling into the hard pavement, punching the breath from your lungs. She raised her arm, something clutched in her fingers glinting liquid silver in the moonlight, and you just managed to move your head out of the way as a knife plunged down, right where your face had been. You gasped, frantically trying to draw air back into your lungs.

“Fuck, what--” you choked, trying to buck her off you, but she was far too strong and had too firm a grip on your shoulder, pinning you down to the cold pavement.

“You like heroes, girly? Well you might get to meet one soon enough. Now hold still, doll, this will be over in a pinch,” she panted, raising the knife again. You caught her around the wrist, sucking enough air back into your lungs to finally, finally scream for help.

Your shout seemed to startle her for a second, but she pressed down with renewed vigor. Your arm shook with the effort to hold her off you, and slowly, horrifyingly, the knife began to sink downward. You swore, twisting underneath her, trying to free your other arm from her grip but you couldn’t get her off of you. A horrible smile cut into her mouth as the knife descended past your shoulder piece.

A scarlet blur tackled her off of you, and she went rolling into the street, the knife pinging off the pavement with a grating metallic noise. You lay for a moment, staring up at the starlit sky, panting desperately.

The sounds of a scuffle drew your attention back into the street. To your horror, the woman had already managed to get on top of her assailant, swinging the knife wildly down at his throat. You let out a strangled scream of warning but it was too late. You closed your eyes, waiting for the slick sound of blood spraying onto the pavement. Instead, the knife clattered off something hard, and you heard a sharp swear and the thump of a body.

Your eyes shot open. The man had her pinned to the pavement, the edges of his skin looked weirdly angular, jagged under the moonlight... You jerked in surprise when you realized just who had tackled the woman off of you--Red Riot. Impossibly, your adrenaline spiked even higher at the sight of him.

Kirishima wrestled the knife out of her hand, and the edges of his skin went even craggier. The woman made an aborted attempt to throw him off but he held her down, grunting.

“Sorry, my quirk is a bad matchup for you! And you’re not going anywhere this time--the police will be here any minute,” he said, reaching back and retrieving quirk suppressors from his belt. He buckled them around her wrists with practiced efficiency, the woman swearing and spitting underneath him like a feral alleycat.

Kirishima’s scarlet gaze flickered to you, and a surprised look crept over his face. “Hey--it’s you! I was hoping I might see you again tonight. Stay right there and give me one minute!”

You nodded dumbly, freezing where you had stood. You were suddenly locked in place, like you'd grown roots on the spot.

Kirishima kept on smiling at you, like he wasn’t currently pinning a wild, knife-wielding murderer into the concrete.

True to his word, the police were there in minutes, sirens blaring and bright lights flickering off the glass of the buildings nearby. Kirishima offloaded the snarling woman into their waiting hands. He had a brief conversation with one of the officers, casting a dour look at the woman as she was hurried into a patrol car, and then he was trudging back towards you, looking a little windswept but as handsome as he had this afternoon.

Your heart leapt into your throat at his approach. Words burbled up inside you, desperate to get out.

“Thank you for saving me,” you gabbled once he was close enough, “I really thought she was going to--I mean, who was that? Why was she trying to murder me?”

Kirishima rolled a strong shoulder, crimson eyes flickering over you curiously. “I'm really glad I was nearby when I heard you shout. She’s called the Dollmaker -- gave a friend of mine the slip the other week. She’s got a totally creepy quirk where she can control you if she gets a little of your blood. She’s been using people to rob jewelry stores and stuff and avoid capture by heroes herself.”

You shuddered. Creepy didn’t even cover the half of it. The thought of you being turned into a mindless puppet to be used at someone else's whims was more than a little disturbing. You'd probably have trouble sleeping tonight.

A warm touch at your elbow jerked you out of your thoughts. Kirishshima’s strong fingers grasped your arm carefully, pulling you closer to him.

“Looks like you got a little scraped up,” he observed quietly, murmuring almost to himself. He fished around on his belt for something, coming up with a pocket-sized medical kit.

“Here, let me,” he said.

You watched as he produced rubbing alcohol and cotton swabs, your cheeks heating when he leaned in close to get a good look at your scrapes and scratches. The warmth from his skin washed over you, a boon against the October chill, and that faint orange peel scent met your nose again. You sucked in a hiccuping breath, feeling weirdly dizzy. You'd been right earlier this evening--he was so overwhelming in person.

You frantically rooted around in your brain for thoughts with more dimension than boy handsome, want kiss, cringing when you landed on the thing that you actually should say to him. You felt your hands ball themselves into fists, and you gritted your teeth. You might as well get it over with. You could do this.

“I’m, um, I’m really sorry about the costume. Again,” you said. “It was a stupid joke, and I apologize for embarrassing you like that. I appreciate you saving me even though I did that.”

Kirishima’s eyebrows shot almost to his hairline, and his gaze jerked up from where he was dabbing lightly at a scrape on your forearm. “What? No! You didn’t embarrass me--why would you think that?”

You swallowed heavily, heart rate going haywire. Kirishima seemed to sense it, fingers flexing restlessly where he held your wrist.

“Earlier you froze up--I just thought…” you sighed, steeling yourself against what you were about to say. “Listen, it’s fine. I know you’re not into and that’s totally okay. I appreciate you being nice about things, and I’m really grateful to you for saving me. I just wanted to let you know I’m really sorry and it won’t happen again.”

He blinked in perplexity, long dark lashes sweeping over his high cheekbones. “You think I’m not into it. Because I...froze up.”

He suddenly let out a sigh, scrubbing a rough hand over his face. “Listen, that’s not--I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but that isn’t why I froze up a little earlier.”

You stared up at him, eyebrows knitting. “It’s not?”

Your mind ran wild loops. If it wasn't his disgust at your costume choice, then what had made him act like that? Had you said something to him, maybe, that had offended him? It was hard to remember what you'd talked about, as the whole interaction had been one giant adrenaline rush on your part...

His scarlet eyes darted back up to catch yours. “It’s not. I got weird earlier because...because I--liked it. I was trying to stay cool and I didn’t realize I had made you feel weird about it until you apologized, and you ran off before I could tell you it didn’t bother me. It does the opposite of bother me,” he admitted, his cheeks pinking.

Your mouth dropped open. You gaped at him, not daring to believe what he was saying. Had he...had he suffered some kind of concussion when he’d tackled the Dollmaker off of you? Had someone else hit him in the head on patrol? Had you actually been murdered and were you right now in heaven instead??

“What?” was all that escaped you.

Kirishima’s fingers trailed idly across the skin of your wrist, and he smiled a little ruefully. “I didn’t expect to see my costume like that, and then, you know, there was a really cute girl wearing it, and it felt like I’d kind of been punched in the gut. And then you were all adorable when you got embarrassed like that and ran off. I just--I wanted you to know that you had the wrong idea.”

Your mind raced with a million thoughts a second. “You think I’m cute?”

Kirishima’s cheeks got darker and he lifted a hand to rub at the back of his neck. This had the consequence of showing his bicep to its best effect, and your mouth went dry as you watched the muscle coil and pull.

“Yeah,” he said, gnawing at the corner of his lip with a sharp tooth. “It was totally unmanly of me to make you feel like that, though, so I’m sorry.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “Red Riot thinks I’m cute.”

He shifted his attention back to the cotton swab he had pressed to your elbow, looking embarrassed. “Really cute, actually.”

His words were like a password for disabling your brain to mouth filter. You found yourself instantly blurting the thought that was burning a hole in your brain. “I want to kiss you.”

Kirishima jerked in surprise, blinking down at you. The cotton pad swiped harshly across your elbow, leaving a stinging trail in its wake. “You want, uh--you want what?”

Your whole face went hot, but you held firm. “I want to kiss you. If that’s okay. I’m sorry if I’m overstepping. But you’re really, really nice, and you’re really, really handsome, and I really, really want to kiss you.”

Kirishima looked like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He leaned down, ducking that head of wild red spikes to look into your face. “Wow that's, I mean, I'd love--but did you bang your head maybe?” He took your chin in his hand, angling your face to the side to look you over for signs of a head injury.

You were flabbergasted. Why was he acting like you had when you'd been embarrassed earlier? Was Red Riot actually...self-conscious? Self-conscious enough that he was having trouble believing that you thought he was nice and handsome and wanted to kiss him for no other reason than that?

For the first time in this insane situation, you wondered if maybe you had a better handle on things than he did. You never did things like this, but this was a once in a lifetime chance, and if it was up to you to take the lead, then you were going to do it.

So, sucking in a deep breath, you did.

You leaned forward, pressing your mouth to his. His mouth was unexpectedly soft, and he was warm and tasted minty, like he’d been chewing gum on patrol. He made a noise of surprise low in his throat, and you thought he might push you away, but after a moment, the hand on your face slid up to your cheek, cupping your face closer to his. He returned the kiss, and your thoughts instantly turned to liquid, melding together into a puddle of stupid. Holy shit he was good.

You tried your best to kiss all the self doubt straight out of his mouth, head spinning when you finally pulled away. The wry little grin at the corner of his mouth gave you all the courage you needed to do what you did next.

“Come home with me,” you said, feeling yourself flush with the audacity of your own words. You literally never did anything like this, and the man was a public figure--you felt half-insane--but if there was ever a moment to try something insane, now was it. He’d saved your life, he thought you were cute, and he was so fucking nice you wanted to kiss the living shit out of him. Plus you'd already looked stupid as hell in front of him and he apparently was kind of into it? He was worth at least trying this.

Kirishima studied you intently, eyebrows lifted in surprise. “You’re sure about this?”

You nodded. “If you are. I don’t normally do things like this but you--you’re just--you’re so…” you gave up on trying to describe him, instead gesturing at him helplessly.

Kirishima laughed, a bright smile working its way over his mouth. The mouth you had just kissed. Your face went hotter.

“You’re pretty--” he waved, gesturing to all of you “--yourself, too.”

A grin pulled at your mouth. “Thanks, I think.”

His eyes creased when he smiled again. “It was definitely a compliment. But, are you sure? I don’t even have your name yet. And I’m normally a little more traditional about these things...a little more of a gentleman,” he ran a hand through those scarlet spikes, looking a little self-conscious again.

You nodded. “I’m sure. If you really want, maybe you can be a gentleman in the morning instead and take me for pancakes? And my name is Y/N.”

He grinned, a flash of those sharp teeth sending a small shiver down your spine. “It’s a deal, then, Y/N.”

You laughed. Feeling bolder than you’d ever felt, you reached for his hand, steering him along the sidewalk with you. His hand was warm and calloused in yours, and you idly mused on how large it was, his long fingers tangling playfully with yours now that he'd gotten over the shock of your ask. You spent the walk in idle chatter, feeling giddy with the knowledge of what was going to come next. You literally could not believe that you had asked Red Riot to come home with you, and not only that, but he’d said yes.

You made it to your apartment in record time, rocket-fueled by your enthusiasm. Kirishima seemed to share the same energy--once the door was shut, he wasted no time shepherding you against it and kissing all the thoughts straight out of your brain again.

“You’re really sure about this?” he asked when he let you up for air. “We could always do pancakes first. No pressure or anything.”

“I’ve never been so sure about anything in my whole life,” you blurted. He grinned, and you pulled him through the living room and into your room with you, kicking the door shut for good measure. As much fun as it would be to let Red Riot fuck you stupid in the middle of your living room, it was going to be harder to explain to your roommate if she walked in on it.

Kirishima walked you back to your bed and had you pressed into your sheets in seconds, kissing you sweetly like he had all the time in the world to take you apart. You were torn between melting into it and wanting to rip all his clothes right off of him. Seeming to sense your impatience, Kirishima leaned back, pulling off his shoulder pieces and arm guards, leaving them in a pile by your bedside. His abs flexed enticingly, and you couldn’t help but reach out and touch.

He huffed a laugh at your dazed expression, leaning back over you to take your mouth again. You curled your fingers in that nest of red hair, feeling the gel crunch under your fingers.

“I couldn’t believe how good you looked when I first saw you,” he breathed, kissing a hot path down your throat. Your fingers clenched down of their own accord. “Wearing my costume and looking like you were mine. I couldn’t even think straight.”

Well that was relatable. You were having trouble thinking straight yourself, especially as his mouth dipped below the fabric of your chest piece.

“You know, my costume doesn’t have one of these,” he said suddenly, glancing up at you. You flushed at the sudden spark of mischief in his eyes. “Maybe we should make it a little more accurate?”

You nodded dumbly, hissing when a calloused hand made its way underneath the fabric, a thumb sliding over one peaked nipple. Kirishima smiled, doing it again, and you jerked underneath him, your hips lifting into him on their own.

In seconds, he had you bare to him, and then a hot mouth was capturing a nipple. You seized a fistful of his hair, letting out a mortifying little moan. Kirishima seemed to like it, however, sliding a rough hand up your waist to the other breast, thumbing over it with equal fervor.

“Fuck, you’re so cute,” he breathed, breath ghosting over your nipple. He pressed himself harder against you, the weight of his dense muscle pressing you down firmly into the sheets of your bed.

You shuddered under his mouth. You literally couldn’t believe Red Riot was in your apartment, in your bed, singing your praises as he worked you into a messy, incoherent lather. He was so warm and his weight pressed you down everywhere, which was lucky since you felt like you might float away if he wasn’t there to keep you pinned.

For someone who had been so self-conscious earlier, he sure knew that the hell he was doing once he'd gotten over that. He moved slowly, working a leisurely path down your chest that drove you half wild until he met the torn crimson fabric of your skirt, grasping your calf in a firm hold.

“Can I?” he asked, red eyes looking up at you.

You made a noise something like assent, and he grinned brightly again, peeling your skirt down. You’d thought he'd meant to get his hands on you, but instead he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to your core, licking a hot stripe up your center.

You swore, hips bucking, but a heavy arm banded across your hips, holding you down.

“I can’t believe you thought I wasn’t into it,” he said into your thigh. “You’re like the hottest thing I have ever seen.”

Then he latched his mouth back over you, and you saw literal stars. He took his time with you, working you over so carefully and thoroughly you thought you might shoot out of your own skin. You writhed and panted underneath him, whining, “Kirishima, oh my god!”

He paused for a moment, glancing up at you. “Call me Eijirou. Please.”

You nodded desperately. You would do literally whatever he wanted to get that incredible mouth back on you. He grinned again, boyishly handsome for just a moment, before he captured your clit again. It was mere minutes before you were whining again, fingers clenched for dear life in his hair.

“Eijirou, oh my god, please. Please, I'm going to--!”

“Hmm you can come for me, sweetheart,” he intoned against you. Another firm suck and the light scrape of one of those sharp, sharp teeth was all it took to send you over the edge. Your vision exploded in a galaxy of stars, and he hardened an arm to hold you down against the mattress as you squirmed wildly against his mouth.

When you returned to yourself, he was watching your face with unabashed interest, looking very pleased with himself. “That was the hottest moment of my life,” he said, sounding a little disbelieving.

You pulled him back up to you, and he let you roll on top of him, grasping your thighs where you planted them on either side of him.

“Mine too,” you admitted, eyes tracing over his pert nose, those smiling scarlet eyes. You spent some time just looking him over, hardly daring to believe that this was happening. Then you inched your way down his chest, feeling braver than you ever had before. It was insane how good he made you feel--he really was too nice, and utterly perfect.

“Let’s see if we can’t beat that, though. Loser pays for pancakes tomorrow?” you said.

“Fuck," he groaned, fingers flexing on your thigh. "You’re on."

You smiled, crawling lower.

Challenge accepted, then. You didn't know what the hell you thought you were doing, but you were going to give things your all this evening. You were definitely not paying for pancakes in the morning.

The costume had been money well spent, it turned out. But you still had fancy cheese to budget for, after all.

#kirishima eijirou #kirishima x reader #bnha x reader #kirishima #fanfic #bnha #smut #my hero academia #halloween

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i-lovethatforme · 3 years

Note

Halloween prompt if you're still accepting x Peter and MJ hold hands for the first time 😁

Day one: take my hand, don’t let go. Ao3. G.

“Oh my God,” MJ groans, her voice shaking slightly. It’s not the first time Peter has ever seen her scared, though this is under better circumstances.

“I didn’t think it would be that bad!”

“You watch scary movies all the time, MJ,” Peter laughs, watching her frown at him as he does. They’re walking alone now, Ned having to get a lift to go with his mum. But the film they just watched is taking some of the tension out of the air, which usually follows him around when he’s just with MJ.

She still looks unfairly beautiful but he can watch her face now without her calling him out on it because she’s too caught up in the frenzy that comes from watching a horror film.

“I know, but I usually do that in bed and then I don’t have to walk home in the dark after, it’s like I’m asking Freddy Krueger to catch me.”

“What a way to blame the victim,” he jokes, his voice breathy because she mentioned watching films in bed and now he’s imagining her watching films in bed. He’s only seen MJ in pyjamas once and it was pretty much all he thought about for the next seven working weeks. Or least until he saw her in denim shorts over summer.

"Shut up, loser," she jokes, knocking her shoulder into his. He wants to be bold when she's playful and grab her hand but he never does. He just lets the warmth of her almost touch grace his skin as his face turns red.

She's smiling, the first of the holiday lights lining the houses in her more suburban neighbourhood shining in her eyes. It's almost peaceful, the chill of the air, the way he's letting his hands hang by his side on the off chance she might want to hold his hand.

It's peaceful until it isn't. He feels it before he sees it, so he doesn't jump the way MJ does, her whole body leaving the ground as she yelps.

Her body moves closer to his and one of her hands clamps around him while the other reaches across her body to hold onto his arm.

"Fuck me," she breathes, as the cat saunters off down the road, the bush it jumped out from no longer moving. MJ's heart is beating from the shock almost as fast as his is because he's holding her hand.

"It's just a cat, Em," he teases, squeezing her fingers. She seems to remember she grabbed hold of him as her head darts to look and she drops her hold on him altogether.

"Sorry," she mumbles.

"It's okay," he replies, trying to keep the heartache out of his voice. He wants to tell her she can hold his hand whenever she wants. That she can reach inside his chest and fumble around for whatever she might like the look of and she can keep it.

The tension is back and it makes the blush that resides on his cheeks whenever he's alone with MJ spread down his chest. He feels too hot in his jumper now. But at least it gives him a question to ask instead of trying and failing not to look at her.

"Are you going to wear pumpkins or cats tomorrow?" he asks, remembering the Halloween tradition they have at school.

“What?”

“For the Halloween jumper day,” he says, tilting his head at her. She loves jumper day.

"Er, I don't - I dunno," she replies, her hands twisting together in front of her. He wants to tell her it's okay, he really didn't mind. She was scared and there's never going to be a time where he won't save her from whatever it might be.

"Well if you wear pumpkins," he starts, his voice shaking only slightly as her hand drops back to her side. "Because you look great in orange. Maybe I could borrow your cat one? Because I don't have a jumper that fits MJ! I grew out of it when I got bitten and you know Flash will laugh if my stomachs out."

"Hmmm," she replies. "Okay but on one condition."

"Yes, Em, I'll let you draw me," he says, smiling at her as she turns to face him.

She raises one of her eyebrows, her cool exterior back though he can hear her heart and it's a little sickening how gone for her he is.

"And I'll bring you a muffin with your tea."

"Deal," she says, her head nodding as she turns back to the road. They're so close to her road now and he's going to have to leave her and he doesn't want to. Maybe he could offer to walk her to school and pick the jumper up in the morning because then he'd be able to see her at least thirty minutes early.

His hand brushes hers as they turn onto her road and he’s so desperate to feel what her fingers feel like looped with his that he takes a deep breath, reaching his pinky out to brush along the back of her hand.

She inhales and lets out a shaky breath as she links their fingers together.

They don't say anything and they take it in turns to look at each other while the other looks ahead. And he tries to bite down a smile but it's no use. He catches her looking just once and she looks away quickly, but he sees the roundness of her cheeks and he can barely keep the skip out of his step.

They come to a stop outside her house and if she'd let him he would walk the eight steps to her front door but she won't. She never has. Probably something to do with the curtain twitching he sees whenever he walks her home and the tiny version of MJ he sees clad in pyjamas.

MJ stands in front of him and he's missed seeing her entire face and he wants to tell her that so she might blush and call him a nerd but he can't get the words out when her arm is stretched in front of her because she hasn't dropped his hand.

"So erm, I'll come to your place tomorrow before school and grab the jumper?" he asks so he doesn't do something stupid like lunge forwards and kiss her.

She's looking at him with her confused face which is one of his favourites because she's never confused unless she's looking at him so he can pretend no one else ever gets to see her like this which he knows isn't true and is borderline possessive but it makes his heart thump anyway.

"But you take the bus."

And that's true. He does take the bus because it's right down the street from his place and not in the opposite direction to school but the bus in no way incorporates seeing MJ.

And morning MJ is just one of the best ever things. Because morning MJ is sleepy MJ which makes her soft and soft MJ lets him get away with brushing her hair from her face, or opening the door for her and sometimes she tells him about her dreams and her hands move so fast she accidentally touches his arm and sometimes she doesn't say anything at all and it's really not his fault he's so stupidly in love with her that he would get up forty minutes earlier just so he can walk her to school.

Blame the universe or the way her hair bounces when she walks or the way she draws on every surface she can find or the way she stands up for what’s right even if it means calling out the most popular guy in school in the middle of the canteen. Really, it’s not his fault. It’s all her.

"Yeah," he replies, breathless as her thumb seems to absentmindedly run over the back of his hand. "But tomorrow, erm, I could walk with you?"

"But you'd have to get up so early," she says, her brows furrowing more and her lips are pouting and fuck has she ever not been the prettiest thing in the world?

Her heart is at a normal pace so he doesn't think she's messing with him. But how is it that he brings her different tea every morning and he sneaks chocolate into her locker when she's having a bad day and they're still holding hands even though they've been outside her house for a quarter of an hour and she doesn't know that he'd walk to the ends of the earth if it meant he could spend five more minutes with her?

"Yeah - but I want to walk with you. Um, like - I want to walk you to school."

" Oh ."

Now he can feel the frantic beating of her heart through her fingertips and he can see the blush forming on her cheeks when he gathers up the courage to look up from the floor.

"Okay," she replies with a small smile, though he's pretty sure she's hiding her other hand in her pocket so she can squeeze her hand into a fist to stop her smile from spreading. Whenever she does that he likes to see if he can make her break. So he smiles brightly at her, waiting for her to look away pretending to look for something in the sky. She tilts her head towards her bedroom window and he laughs lightly.

"Okay," he repeats, still looking at her with the biggest smile, he's not even really putting it on. He's always smiling around her.

"See you tomorrow then," he says, waiting for her to look at him again. Maybe hoping to see if he can add this tally to his winning side.

She looks at him. She rolls her eyes but the smile spreads across her face anyway. She's beautiful. He's not shocked but it takes the air out of his lungs all the same. It does every time he wins his game - though he's not sure what would happen if he ever lost.

"See you in the morning," she whispers, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth as she squeezes his hand to let go.

He watches her until she's safely in her house. She turns back to look at him three times (not that he's counting) and if he falls asleep thinking about the wave she gave him at the door or the way she shouted at him to text her when he got home.

Well.

He spends all of his nights falling asleep thinking about MJ anyway, so it just makes sense.

#spideychelle #petermj #jssc spooky season

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jobean12-blog · 4 years

Text

Bewitched

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 1,062

Summary: You and Bucky attempt to make it through a haunted maze and get more than a scare (sort of friends to lovers)

Author’s Note: This is for the HBC’s @the-ss-horniest-book-club continuation of drunk drabbles and the fun prompt below by @buckys-henley and the Fall in Love challenge- corn maze theme-hope you enjoy this! Thank you all for reading! Much love always! ❤❤❤

Warnings: Halloween scary themes (very light), protective Bucky, soft and sweet fluff, a kiss, friends to more, some laughs- it’s fun!

“Are you cold?” You look up at Bucky, his eyes soft when he starts to take off his jacket. “Um, I think so?” you say apprehensively, holding your arms tight to your body. He stops with one arm in and one arm out, “you don’t have to take it. You just looked cold.” Your hands shoot out, “no, no, that would be great, thank you.” He smiles, draping it over your shoulders and helping your get your arms in.

You’re drowning in it but it’s warm from his body and smells like him. “You look really cute.” Looking down at your feet you say a quiet, “thank you,” and start walking again, staying a few steps ahead of him near Nat. She turns to you, “is that his jacket?” she whispers, and you nod. “Yes!” You giggle at her enthusiasm and peek over your shoulder to find Bucky’s eyes on you while he chats with Steve.

Turning back quickly you take Nat’s hand and continue walking toward the haunted maze. Your heart starts to beat faster, and your stomach is in knots by the time you reach the entrance. Everyone piles up close while you show your tickets and walk in. Steve, Sam, Clint and Nat start teasing each other about who will scream first and Rhodey, Tony, Wanda and Vision are arguing about whether or not they can use their powers against any ghouls.

You haven’t walked through yet, your hands clasped tightly in front of you while you try to calm your breathing. “Hey doll, you ok?” Bucky’s soft voice startles you, his warm hand resting on your lower back as he looks you over. “Yea. Yea, thanks. Guess it’s time to go in.” You gulp and take a step forward, leaning into his hand only slightly as you concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other.

“Where did everyone go?” he laughs from behind you. Your eyes scan the nearby bales of hay and large stalks of corn, no one else in sight. “They left us,” you whisper, starting to feel more freaked out by the second. “Well you’re not alone. Come on, we can do this.” Bucky determinedly starts walking ahead and you fall right in line next to him, your hands touching softly every so often.

The night is cool and clear, small smatterings of stars twinkling above even through the bright light of the full moon. “It’s so quiet,” you mumble, wrapping Bucky’s jacket tighter around your body. “I know right. I don’t even hear any animals.” You look at Bucky and give him a weak smile, “they are probably in on this.” You both let out a small laugh, not realizing that you’ve taken a wrong turn in the maze.

“Hey Buck? I think we may have gone the wrong way.” You stop walking and spin in a circle, starting to feel dizzy. “Yea, it looks like it.” His voice is quiet, like he’s trying to make sure he doesn’t draw unwanted attention your way. The two of you end up back to back in the middle of the row, Bucky’s hand reaching back so his fingertips lightly brush against yours. Slowly, his pinky curls around your pinky and each finger follows suit until you’re holding hands.

Your skin tingles with a spark of electricity from his touch and when you turn to face each other his grip on your hand tightens, “it’s ok babe, we’ll find our way out.” His thumb gently caresses the top of your hand and you give him a squeeze, almost forgetting your current situation when his eyes drift down to your lips. “Yea, we’ll be fine,” you whisper, inching closer to him. He pulls his gaze away, clearly trying to focus on the task at hand and not the feel of your body so near.

“So um, which way should we go?” you ask, looking around. When you don’t get an answer you look up, “Bucky?” His eyes are locked on yours and his hand reaches up to cup your cheek. “Uhhh, I have no idea.” Giving him a knowing smile, you grab the front of his shirt, your other hand still holding his, “me either.”

Just when his lips are a breath away you hear the rustle of hay and leaves, Bucky’s arms shooting around your waist and pulling you into his chest protectively. “What the hell was that?” You can feel his heartbeat against your cheek, and you close your eyes, too scared to open them and look. “I don’t know Bucky!” He rubs your back soothingly, keeping his eyes glued on the two dark rows of corn in front of you. “It’s ok, it’s fine,” he whispers into your hair, walking you both backward.

Another strange sound pulls your attention to the left and before you have a chance to register what it is someone jumps in front of you and screams. Bucky’s metal arm shoots out lightning quick and knocks the person down, the loud and annoyed groans of Steve echoing through the night.

“Jeez, Buck, ouch.” Shaking your head, you finally register what happened and watch as the rest of the team comes out of the shadows. Steve stands and rubs his cheek, glaring at Bucky, “you didn’t have to try to knock me out.” Bucky takes a step forward, “I had to protect my girl, you scared the shit out of us!” Steve’s glare softens and his lips turn up into a smirk, your own doing the same when he winks your way.

“Your girl huh?” Bucky clenches and unclenches his fist, opening his mouth to speak then snapping it shut. “Yea. That’s right,” he huffs out, throwing his arm around your shoulder. “Thanks for interrupting us.” Everyone starts laughing, including you as you snuggle closer to him, “I’d love to be your girl, Bucky.” He beams, a cocky grin thrown Steve’s way before he leans down and cradles your jaw, “then let’s make it official.”

Maybe time stops when his lips meet yours, but the flutters in your stomach only intensify. Your heart pounding in your chest as your knees get weaker. You can only focus on how soft he feels against your mouth, how addictively he invades all your senses. The cheers of your friends die away as he parts your lips, hungry and intense and silencing all thoughts.

@aesthetical-bucky @auro-ora @bugsbucky @book-dragon-13 @buckstaybucky @buckys-henley @buckosawrus @buckys-broody-muffin @buckys-minty-breath @bucky-on-my-mind @breezy1415 @chuuulip @eurynome827 @hiddles-rose @hailmary-yramliah @hawksmagnolia @ikaris-whore @imgaril-lindru @itsunclebucky @jhangelface0523 @jewels2876 @lorilane33 @addikted-2-dopamine @lokilvrr @littledarlinhavefaithinme @littleredstarfish @loricameback @lookiamtrying @mushyjellybeans @marvelandotherfandomimagines @marvelgirl7 @nano--raptor @pinkdiamond1016 @nerdypinupcrystal @randomfandompenguin @sallycanwait68 @softpeachbarnes @tuiccim @this-kitten-is-smitten @the-wayward-robot @yansi1923 @tales-of-spring @hopefuldreamers-world @survivor-reborn

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader fluff #bucky barnes drabble #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader fluff #friends to lovers #bucky barnes x you #bucky fluff #bucky #bucky barnes imagine #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfic #hbc fall in love drabbles #hbc drunk drabbles

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wickedgamesoyaoya · 4 years

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❧ part of Jan’s Halloween Circus

❧ about: atsumu hates ghosts, but free food and the company of his friends leads him to the angel inn where he meets a journalist who is seeking more than a cheap thrill.

❧ prompts: Anybody else notice the small child staring at us & wait! its too dangerous to go alone, take this! *puts my hand in yours*

❧ pairing: Atsumu x F!reader

❧ wc: 2.7k

❧ triggers: anxiety, mentions of death and murder, a touch of dark humor, ghost children.

❧ A/N: I hope you guys like this! I had so much fun writing it. I edited this twice but if I missed anything pls ignore. MWAH.

The Angel Inn was not merely famous for their delectable burger, no – its name had been splattered across dozens of newspapers for a reason far more dreadful. In 1954, a tragedy occurred on the property, drawing the attention of locals and foreigners alike. On the morning of October 31st four lifeless bodies were discovered by the unsuspecting housekeeper. She was sent to the room after the neighboring occupants complained of a nauseating smell to the front desk.

After initiating an investigation, the authorities ruled that it was a triple homicide and suicide. The Angel Inn remained closed for months to allow the authorities 24-hour access to the crime scene, and when it was time to reopen, they opted to covert the establishment into a restaurant instead.

During the renovation the owner had received various complaints from the contracted party, who claimed that something was amiss. There were reported sightings of a little pale boy, along with concerns about flickering lights and screeches that would ring through the narrow hallways. Soon the haunting of the Angel Inn was assigned the status of town gossip, alluring ghost hunters and disbelievers alike to the newly opened restaurant. Though, fearful of a potential lawsuit, the owner of the property elected to lock each of the bedrooms – whether it was to keep the humans out or the ghosts in was questionable. Yet, she hoped either way it would save her from enduring another investigation.

When your boss originally assigned you the story for the Halloween edition of the magazine, not a single protest left your mouth. Instead, the sound of excitement crawling up your throat had to be swallowed, to spare your manager from a potential earache. Not only would your dinner be covered, you were being paid to explore a haunted motel, something you would have agreed to do if your boss had simply asked. Ghost stories had always captured your interest as a child, partially due to the fact your grandmother was a self-proclaimed psychic.

Was it bad that communicating with a ghost was on your list of life goals?

Maybe you should aim higher, but the possibility of encountering a ghost child had electricity surging throughout your nerves. It was going to be perfect.

When four vouchers were allocated to the Ace of the MSBY Black Jackals for dinner at the Angel Inn, he naturally decided to invite his closest team-mates. Hinata agreed immediately, oblivious to the reputation of the property. Sakusa declined the invite promptly, until he noticed the colour drain from the setter’s face. The panic flaring in Atsumu’s eyes and the strained smile tugging at the corners of his mouth indicated that at minimum, the dinner would be interesting. He could sacrifice peace for one evening if it meant watching his friend tremor the entire time.

“Tsum Tsum, don’t worry! If any ghosts come, I’ll protect us. I am the Ace after-all.” A teasing laugh rose from Bokuto’s chest as he snuck an arm around the setter’s shoulder. The blonde responded with a low grunt, mumbling something inaudible. Ghosts were not his thing, and he failed to understand how they could be anyone’s thing.

But alas, on October 30th, the setter found himself sat at the Angel Inn with his three team-mates. Earlier in the day, he attempted to bribe his brother to colour his hair and attend on his behalf. While Osamu was certainly tempted – it was food after-all, he was unwilling to colour his hair to match his brothers. Blonde was a colour that suited only a subsection of society, and he was not fortunate enough to be granted permission into that branch. And so, he left his older brother to fend for himself.

Nothing could distract Atsumu from the supposed danger that loomed over him, his senses were sensitive to every noise that vibrated within the confines of the establishment. For most of the night, the setter found himself observing every creak, sneeze or laugh, to ensure that its source was not supernatural. However, the anxiety gripping his heart had released its hold when the sound of a melodic laugh touched his ears. It took him a few seconds to discover the source of the laughter, and when he connected it to you, eagerness brought him to his feet.

“What’s wrong with you? Are you possessed now?” Sakusa raised an eyebrow at the blonde as a small simper formed on his mouth. He had read that the weakest one in the room is the most likely to fall victim to possession, and so it made sense if Atsumu was their first target.

“I’m gonna go talk to that pretty girl.” With his fingers adjusting the collar of his shirt, a flirtatious expression adorned his features, washing away any hint of gloom that was once present. While Bokuto and Hinata strived to detect who their friend was referring to, Sakusa clicked his tongue in artificial distaste.

“Did it ever occur to you, that maybe she is a ghost?” The humour laced into the inquiry could not be successfully disguised by the outsider hitter’s pretentious attitude. It was clear to them all that it was his attempt at a joke.

“Shut up, Omi!” Before stepping away from the table, the blonde administered a glare at his friend. There was no way you were a ghost… Right?

When Atsumu was close enough to catch a glimpse of your face, any concerns on the status of your existence were banished. Although, he was not particularly enthusiastic when he spotted the notebook situated in front of you. Reporters were usually far too intrusive and insensitive for his liking. Yet he still found himself claiming the empty stool beside you.

“Whatcha got there?” Shifting his gaze to the sheet filled with scribbles, his breath caught in his throat at the title. The Haunting of The Angel Inn.

It took you a second to comprehend that the question was aimed at your work. The last thing you anticipated was for someone to seek you out during your little investigation today. Dressed in ordinary business attire, it was surprising that someone of his calibre would consider sparing you a second look, yet alone a conversation.

“Hm? Oh, I’m writing an article.” Despite instructing yourself to not stare, your y/e/c irises refused to leave the stranger’s face. There was something familiar about him – was he a model? As you racked through your mind for an answer to the question of his identity, you blinked in slow intervals.

“About the hauntings?” When his attention traveled from the notebook to you, it finally clicked. Miya Atsumu – pro volleyball player. The realization tempted you to pound your forehead with the edge of your palm.

“Yeah, I’m a journalist. Star here was just telling me about her experience with Haru.” His question about your work returned your mind to the task at hand. Gesturing towards the bartender with the pen nestled between two fingers, a soft laugh was exhaled. Right. You were on a mission tonight to gain an audience with the ghosts of Angel Inn.

“Haru?” Atsumu narrowed his brows, the smile on his lips slipping away into a frown. Who was Haru?

“The ghost kid who haunts this place?” Adjusting yourself on the seat, excitement sparkled in your eyes. It was at this point that Atsumu realized that you were the polar opposite of him – you were seeking a paranormal experience, whereas he simply wanted a burger.

“Well shit. Didn’t know he had a name.” The setter propped an elbow onto the wooden counter, directing artificial laughter to leave his lips.

“They call him that because he apparently looks like the child who was murdered here.” A knowing wiggle was given to your eyebrows. While he may have sought to disguise his discomfort with the topic, it quickly dawned on you that MSBY’s setter was afraid of ghosts.

“Right. So lemme get this straight, you came here willingly? You want to see a ghost?” His eyelids fell into a quizzical slit. He knew the answers to those questions, and still was foolish enough to vocalize them.

“Yeah. I think it would be fun.”

And there it was. Confirmation that you were less than sane.

“Not if they try to kill ya.” There was a bitter edge to his comment, earning him a puzzled titter.

“I doubt a four-year-old ghost is going to kill me.” A shake to your head accompanied the reassurance. His anxieties were rooted in foolish assumptions, but you found the pout on his lips to be oddly adorable. “But if you’re scared, you can sit with me and I promise if a ghost comes, I’ll do all the talking.” An eyelid was then dipped into a wink, which prompted the blonde to break into a laugh.

“Yer the second person to offer to protect me.” Embarrassment flooded his stomach with bees, instead of butterflies. Yet he refused to lower this façade, with laughter continuing to drip from his mouth.

“Hey, we all have our fears. You can protect me if a spider appears. Deal?” The arrangement prompted you to offer out your pinky to solidify the verbal contract.

“Yah. Okay. Deal.” Atsumu curled his pinky around yours, and the smallest touch had calmed the insects inside of him. Maybe you weren’t that bad, even if you were a little crazy.

“I’m l/n, f/n, by the way.”

“I’m Miya, Atsumu.”

The following hour contained various conversations, ranging from past paranormal experiences to locker-room gossip. Atsumu munched away at the plate of appetizers while you supplied him with stories of your childhood. He was beginning to piece together why you were so keen on communicating with the ghostly residences of the Angel Inn. You were halfway through another story when his attention drifted onto a figure in the corridor behind you.

“Err. L/n. Did ya notice the small child staring at us? Please tell me ya see it too.” It was never his intention to lock stares with the almost transparent being that was beckoning him over. The poor male choked on the fry in his mouth, and then dove for a glass of water.

“Hm? Where?!” Spinning around on the seat, you attempted to attain a visual of what had frightened the blonde. To your disappointment, there was no sign of a young child. “I think it ran away. I’m gonna follow it.” The announcement of your plans was followed by a little fist pump in the air. If Haru wanted a playmate, you were certainly available.

“Yer gonna follow the ghost child? Can we talk about this?” After administering a cough to clear his throat, the setter prepared his best impression of a puppy-dog, hoping it would convince you to abandon your endeavours.

“You don’t have to come with me, Miya. I’ll meet you back here when I’m done.” With laughter dancing up your throat, you settled onto your feet then presented a bright beam in the setter’s direction. Atsumu was appreciative of your efforts to reassure him, though he would refuse to allow you to leave without him.

“No. It’s too dangerous to go alone, take this.” Before you could question what he was referring to, the male intertwined his fingers with yours then casted his gaze aside shyly. “Alright. Now ya can go.”

“That was kinda corny and kinda cute. I’ll accept it.” The inside of your cheek was bit as you pushed to conceal the happiness the action brought you. For someone who was notorious for being a ‘bad boy’, he was ridiculously sweet. The circumstances surely called for an eerie chill to fill your bones, and yet warmth engulphed every inch of your skin.

The quest to find Haru was unsuccessful on the lower level. It was only when you proceeded up the staircase did you hear a strange giggle from one of the hallways. It appeared that you had accepted a game of hide and seek with the dead. When you tugged on Atsumu’s hand to indicate that you desired to follow the noise, a low whine vibrated inside of his throat.

“This is exactly what a couple does in those horror films before they get killed. Haven’t ya learned anything from Hollywood?” Despite his warnings and the anxiety swarming his insides, he trailed behind you closely, refusing to release your hand.

“Shh, Miya.” To drown out the laughter threatening to depart, you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip. The sound of varied giggles increased in volume until you reached room 204. What was strange about the guestroom was that the door was cracked open. Based on your research, each of the hotel rooms were said to be double locked. What made the circumstances significantly worse was that 204 was the room where the murders occurred… Not that you planned on sharing any of this information with the blonde male shivering behind you.

“L/n, I am begging ya.” He applied a bit of pressure against your hand, and regretted his decision to accompany you when he knew what was lurking behind the barrier would not be pleasant.

“Just a little peek, and we can go.”

You should have retreated when tiny needles prickled your palm as you ushered open the door, but you were far too stubborn to leave yet. And nothing could prepare you for the horrific sight that awaited you. In the center of the room stood a four-year-old boy with blood splattered across his face and a single hole penetrating his chest. His injured state did not stop the apparition from smiling ear to ear, and frankly that only added an additional layer of horror. Beside you Atsumu blinked wide eyes, unsure how to react to what had melted into view.

“No. Nope. No. We’re done here.” Releasing your hand, the setter scooped you into his arms, then began down the hallway before rushing down the stairs. He continued to utter his denial to the situation and refused to stop until reaching the parking lot outside.

“Miya!” Maybe it was his reaction that prompted laughter to erupt from inside you, or maybe you were terrible at handling distress. But you could not contain the melody that brought your chest to rise and fall, even after he returned you to your feet.

“We are not goin’ back in there. No.” The setter raked his fingers through his hair roughly, struggling to regain his composure. Did he really just see that? More importantly, why didn’t you listen to his warnings? And why were you laughing?! “How aren’t ya scared?!”

“I express my fear through laughter?” Your shoulders were pushed into a shrug as you delivered him a sheepish smile. Disbelief led the setter to lift a finger in your direction, communicating that he required a minute to accept this explanation.

“How about I get my things, then you and I go can grab some hot chocolate for your nerves.” Seconds after the suggestion was posed, you took his hand that was extended forward, cupping it with both of your palms. This was certainly not how you expected the evening to unfold. How could you have known that you would meet someone so fascinating and sweet as Atsumu while writing an article on a haunted motel? But you were glad you did. Not only did you secure details to an incredible story, you also thoroughly enjoyed yourself. It had been a while since you laughed this much – you missed it.

“Yah fine. Jus’ don’t bring back any uninvited guests with ya.” A dramatic sigh was blow out by the male to illustrate his exhaustion. If he saw another spirit today, he doubted his fragile little heart would survive.

“Oh, you mean like Haru?” Allowing your hands to drop to your side, you retreated a step away from him, prior to lowering an eyelid into a mischievous wink. The mention of the spirit’s name brought Atsumu to grimace. “I’m joking. I’ll see if his sister is available instead.”

“L/n! Stop!”

The whining of your name had never sounded more endearing, and for the first time this evening, you accepted that maybe just maybe...you weren’t the sanest.

Taglist: @newfriendjen @haikyuufairy @bringmelily @4fterh0urs @shegrewupwithoutafather @chocolaterumble @aquariarose @tsukkismamagucci @yourstarvic

#atsumu x reader #atsumu x y/n #atsumu imagines #atsumu miya #atsumu scenarios #atsumu fluff #atsumu x you #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu atsumu #atsumu x female reader

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wimsiecal · 1 year

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29th - Nightmare Before Christmas

"And they call him Sandy Clawwsss"

#dark pinky halloween prompt #you know I'm a sucker for dramatic lighting xD #pinky and the brain #my art #art #doodle #drawing #digital art #dark pinky #fanart

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c-o-z-m-o · 2 years

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Day 3/October 26th- Traditional Halloween Monster

Give him all your candy and health insurance or he'll beat you up

Ok, so for this one I really wanted to make him like, a vampire or a ghost who had died, but like.. cmon. It was easy and he looks like a menace.

#dark pinky halloween prompt #dark pinky #my art

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vannahfanfics · 4 years

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Face Your Fears

Category: Romantic Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Momo Yaoyorozu, Shoto Todoroki

Hey, everyone! Here’s a story for the @bnhabookclub’s Weekly SFW Prompt, “I think I’m in love with you, and that terrifies me.” I also decided to combine it with a prompt from the Bingo Event, “Scary Movies.” Happy reading!

The tip of Momo’s tongue stuck out from between her glossed lips as she carefully layered the thick nail gel over the little stub of her pinky toe. Once she had covered the small surface with a sheen of the glittering, ruby red polish, she stretched her toes and wiggled them experimentally. There! All done! she thought gleefully and reclined back against the couch. She propped her feet up on the coffee table so they could dry, then looked around to see how the other girls were progressing. Likewise, most of them had finished painting their nails, various colors shining on the clear, manicured surfaces.

“This was a good idea for girls’ night, Tooru!” Ochako hummed as she admired the bubblegum pink polish decorating her fingernails. The invisible girl, traipsing around the sofa with spring green nails seemingly hovering in thin air, giggled happily as she grabbed a throw pillow and hugged it to her chest.

“But of course! You feel like a new woman when you get your nails, hair, and make-up done!” Indeed, the girls had been spending the last several hours down in the common room, doing each other’s make-up and hair. Momo sported a set of bouncy curls; she wasn’t used to having her hair down, so she kept compulsively sweeping the corkscrewed hairs from her face. Tooru climbed over the side of the couch to sit beside Mina, who was waving her hands about to dry to pastel yellow polish that complimented her bright pink skin. “Mina, Mina, did you rent the movie?”

“Sure did!” their classmate responded and carefully plucked a DVD case from the table. “Ta-da! Halloween Slasher 3!” she grinned wildly and flipped the container around to show a masked man brandishing a chainsaw. Momo snickered disbelievingly.

“Oh, no, not another one of your slasher thriller movies!”

“Wahhh! Minaaaaa, you know I don’t like those,” Ochako whimpered and pushed her face into a throw pillow with a keening whine. Mina jumped up and down on the couch cushions, completely ignoring Ochako’s meek protests. The girl hopped up and scampered over to the DVD player to pop the disc in, and the whirring of a chainsaw accented by creepy music blared out of the speakers. Ochako squealed at the grotesque splashing of fake blood on the screen. “Noooooo! Hold me, Kyoka!” Ochako wailed and buried herself into the dark-haired girl’s lap. Kyoka scowled surprisedly as the brunette suddenly snuggled into her, but soothingly stroked her tresses of honey-brown hair.

“Jeez, Ochako, you’re such a fraidy-cat.” Mina whooped ecstatically as she pressed “play” and walked over the couch and coffee table to plop back down beside Tooru. As the introduction began to play, Shoto came strolling out of the kitchen, sipping at a mug of steaming black tea.

“Hello, ladies. Girls’ night?”

“That’s right, Todoroki! Sorry, but you can’t join!” Mina grinned over the back of the couch, winking and sticking her tongue out at him. Shoto chuckled and commented that he would never dream of it, but as he whirled on his heel to return upstairs, Momo spoke up.

“Oh, but I think it’s a little rude not to offer, don’t you?” she fretted, laying a hand against her cheek. “I think we can make an exception, right, girls?” She grimaced a little at a poorly-timed maniacal laugh and scream of chainsaw blades. Shoto peered over his shoulder at her with heterochromatic eyes widened in curiosity. Momo flushed on reflex; Shoto’s gaze was never anything less than intense, with those orbs of piercing blue and stormy gray.

“I don’t care,” Kyoka shrugged, staring idly at the screen with morbid fascination. Ochako just cried pitifully into her lap, causing Kyoka to stroke her back again. “There, there. It’s not real blood, Ochako.”

“Todoroki, do you like scary movies?” Tooru grinned as the red-and-white haired boy approached the arm of the couch on which Momo was seated. The boy glanced at the flickering screen with raised eyebrows.

“I’m indifferent to them. I don’t really find them scary- but I’ll keep you girls company, if you like. It’s not like I have anything better to do,” he responded simply. Momo scooched over a little as he eased himself down onto the couch beside her. The cushion dipped with his weight, making her slide in so that her thigh brushed against his. While Momo blushed fiercely, Shoto only glanced at her out of his peripheral vision. He calmly sipped at his tea, and, still gazing at her, said, “So, you guys did makeovers, did you?”

“That’s right? Don’t I look beauuuuutiful, Todoroki?” Tooru crooned. Shoto couldn’t see anything but the nail polish the invisible girl was sporting, but he still politely agreed. However, when he said it, he was staring intently at Momo. He reached up to tug lightly on one of the curls framing her face.

“Very beautiful,” he smiled slightly. When Momo’s face flared red, he suddenly realized what he was saying and snatched his hand away. Blank-faced, he returned to his tea, but Momo could feel his body stiffen beside her.

“Todoroki, Todoroki!” Mina beamed, draping herself over the arm of the couch to smile giddily at him. “If scary movies don’t scare you, what does?” Shoto blinked and put his hand on his chin thoughtfully.

“Nothing, really.” Momo found it exceptionally odd, but his gaze slid to her again, and his response almost sounded lifeless.

“Aw, come on,” Kyoka whined. Her eyes remained glued to the screen, watching the fake blood fly in arcs as the chainsaw maniac went to town on the innocent and ignorant protagonists. She was avidly listening to the conversation despite her rapt focus. Ochako peeked up from her lap, teary-eyed and white-faced from fright.

“You mean this doesn’t scare you?” she sniffed with a gesture at the television screen. As another burst of homicidal laughter came from the television screen, she screamed and jumped up in Kyoka’s lap to bury her face into the crook of her neck. Kyoka, unfazed, patted Ochako’s head reassuringly.

“Nope,” Shoto quipped and sipped at his tea again. “I don’t find things like this scary.”

“What about bugs? Creeeeeepy crawly bugs?” Mina asked, wiggling her fingers to mimic the spindly legs of a centipede. Shoto shrugged indifferently.

“They’re just bugs.”

“Clowns?!” Tooru gasped with her invisible hands over her mouth, as indicated by her polished nails. Shoto laughed airily.

“Why would I find some goofy guys with big shoes and gaudy make-up frightening?” Mina giggled at his response and returned to the movie, squealing with laughter when a girl bungled over her feet and tripped.

“Bahaha! You moron! Why are you running in those heels?” Shoto chuckled to himself, amused by Mina’s enthusiasm.

The girls continued to interrogate Shoto about his fears, listing every common phobia that they could think of, but he deflected them with cool, focused ease. At some point, he finished his tea and reclined back against the couch with his hands behind his head. As he responded to Tooru’s question concerning whether or not he was frightened by spiders that wear flip-flops, Momo tucked her legs against her body as a slight chill gripped her. It seemed the dormitory’s air conditioner had kicked in, spreading cold air throughout the room. As she shuddered, she unknowingly fell against Shoto’s right arm, making him stop short in the middle of his sentence and glance at her. It took Momo a minute to realize why he was so startled, and when she did, she began spluttering apologies.

“F-forgive me! I trembled a little and lost my balance; I didn’t mean anything by it!” Her friends were watching her with expressions of devious amusement, which made Momo blush all the harder. Shoto’s frosty eyes fixed on her with an unsettling intensity.

“Yaoyorozu… Are you cold?”

“A-a little,” she admitted timidly. He blinked slowly at her, then reached behind them to grab the throw blanket folded over the back of the couch. Momo sat there, electrified, as he calmly unfurled it and draped it over her shoulder, pulling it together just under his chin. When he smiled kindly at her, Momo felt her heart jump right into her throat to choke her with blossoming affection. “T-Todoroki,” she smiled bashfully and looked down at his fingers where they held the blanket shut. She reached up to take the cloth from him, and their fingertips brushed for just the slightest second. Such a simple touch, but it sent electricity shooting up her arm like liquid lightning.

“Better?” Shoto asked quietly. Entranced, Momo nodded without realizing it.

“Better…” Both of them stiffened when someone cleared their throat. Both of their heads whipped to the side to see Mina staring brightly at them with a giddy smile splitting her face.

“Gettin’ chummy, are we?” Shoto and Momo turned identical shades of crimson.

“No!” They exclaimed simultaneously. Mina wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and continued to grin at them as she slunk back from her position on the arm of the couch. Momo retreated into the confines of the blanket, deeply embarrassed, while Shoto grimaced and tried to push himself into the gap between the couch cushions and the frame. Silence settled between them, interrupted only by Mina’s snickers and the grotesque sounds pouring from the television. Eventually, the slasher movie ended, and Mina peeled herself from the couch with a loud yawn.

“Ahh, that was fun! <3 Let’s watch the fourth one next week!”

“You mean there’s more?” Ochako wailed in dismay and looked at the pink girl tearily. “Please! I can’t take it! Can’t we watch a rom-com next week or something?” Mina tsked and waggled her finger at Ochako as she squatted out to remove the disc from the DVD player, then grinned.

“I’m kidding, ‘Chako! Of course we can watch something cute next week.” Ochako exhaled deeply in relief and melted over Kyoka, who was scrolling through her social media feed now that the film had ended. Mina tossed the DVD back onto the coffee table to return to the rental kiosk later and stretched her arms above her head. “Ooooo-kaaaaaay! I’m off to bed, ladies! Girls’ Night Plus Todoroki was fun!” Shoto smiled at Mina.

“Oh, yes, I had a good time.”

One by one, the girls filed out, leaving Momo and Shoto alone. Neither of them made any move to rise from the sofa; they stared dully at the blank black screen. Momo had begun to sweat within the confines of the thick blanket, so she shrugged her arms out of it, letting it cover her legs. The silence deafened her, ringing in her ears, so she broke the silence before she could go insane.

“Todoroki… I’m glad you decided to join us tonight,” she offered lamely, looking up at him. He grunted and continued to gaze levelly at the television, so Momo studied his profile. He really is pretty, she thought absentmindedly as she drank in his sharp jawline and silky two-toned hair and gorgeous heterochromatic eyes. When the blue one flickered to her, she blushed pink, but found herself unable to look away. Slowly, Shoto turned to face her, and retook one of her curls to rub it softly between his thumb and forefinger.

“How could I refuse when such a beautiful girl asks me to join?” Momo laughed nervously, thinking that surely he was teasing, but his expression remained deadly serious. Her spine straightened like a steel rod as his fingers traveled up the crimped length of her hair to brush over her jawline, then traced a path up to her cheekbones until he cupped her cheek. Momo drew in a breath as fireworks exploded through her nerves, painting invisible crackling lines all over her face. “You all wanted to know what I was afraid of.”

“Y-yes…” she murmured and swallowed thickly. Her heart thumped hard in her chest, so loud that she thought surely Shoto could hear it. She shivered slightly as Shoto leaned in close, and her eyelashes fluttered as his warm breath puffed over her face.

“I think I’m in love with you, and that terrifies me.” Momo swallowed again as his expression grew slightly sad. His thumb traced arcs over her cheek in gentle motions. She licked her lips nervously, and then asked, “Why would that scare you?” Shoto smiled warmly, seemingly a little relieved that she hadn’t rejected him outright.

“I;ve never felt so strongly about someone as I do for you… I don’t know what to do with myself. I’m afraid I’ll mess it up.” Momo couldn’t help but snicker a little. Shoto blinked at her, confused. She smiled affectionately and leaned into his touch, raising a hand to cover the one that held her cheek so tenderly.

“You’re doing pretty good so far.” Shoto chuckled. He inhaled deeply, then pressed his forehead to hers, gazing deep into her eyes.

“You’re so beautiful, Momo.” The brazen use of her first name sent butterflies fluttering in her chest, spreading a bubbly giddy feeling finer than any champagne through her body. She smiled sweetly and pressed against him, bumping the tips of their noses slightly. Shoto’s gaze dropped to her lips, shiny with lip gloss, and he worried his bottom lip with his teeth. “Momo… Can I…” He trailed off when he glanced back into her eyes, because his answer swam within the gleaming dark depths of her irises. Slowly, he angled his face, and both their eyes drifted shut as he pressed his mouth to hers in a sweet, titillating kiss. Momo hummed at the foreign but not unwelcome sensation of his lips sliding smoothly over hers in gentle ministrations. While his one hand remained on her cheek, his other trailed up her arm, leaving fireworks behind.

They both sighed in contentment when he pulled away. Momo’s eyelashes fluttered as she came down from the small high, and then she smiled sweetly.

“So? Still afraid?”

“Not as much,” he laughed lightly. “Guess it’s true that it gets better when you face your fears.” Momo giggled, and once more, they grew lost in each other’s gazes. Just as Momo considered kissing him again-

“I KNEW IT!” The two sprang apart with startled yelps as Mina screamed from the entryway/ She was nearly sobbing as she filmed the two of them with her cell phone. “Momo, baby, you’re doing wonderful!”

“Mina!” Momo whined. Shoto had laid himself down on the floor between the couch and the coffee table, and resigned himself to a grim and embarrassing death. “This is what you call an invasion of privacy!”

“Look, when you guys make bedroom eyes in front of us, you relinquish your right to privacy,” the pink girl shrugged. Momo’s face turned that much redder.

“B-b-b-b-bedroom eyes?!”

“Oi!” came Aizawa’s grumpy voice as he opened his bedroom door to glower at them. “It’s almost lights out. Stop screaming and go to bed!” He made to shut the door, then opened it back up and glared shiftily at Mina, who was whistling innocently. “And you- no extortion or blackmail.” As he slammed the door shut, Mina wailed and stamped her foot.

“Booooo! You’re no fun, Mr. Aizawa!”

“What were you going to do with that footage?!” Momo exclaimed as she slapped her hands to her cheeks. Mina stuck out her tongue and giggled deviously.

“You’ll have to find out~!”

“Minaaaaaaa!” Momo howled as the girl skipped off back to her room. Momo flopped onto her belly against the cushions, groaning. “How mortifying…” She had to smile at the girl’s shenanigans- at least they kept things interesting.” Humming, she rolled on her side to run her fingers through Shoto’s hair as he remained face-down on the floor. “You okay?”

“I just want to die. Nothing unusual.” Momo snickered and played with the curling hairs at the base of his neck.

“She’s only teasing. She probably won’t do anything with the video.”

“But she’ll tell everyone and their mother,” he complained as he pushed himself up on his elbows and pouted at her. Momo giggled and cupped his face as he sat up on his knees in front of her.

“Oh, yes, she’ll definitely do that.” There was already a chorus of stomping steps and startled “Whaaaaaaat’s?” floated down from upstairs. Shoto groaned and leaned forward to press his forehead against hers, then smiled amusedly.

“Ah, well. I suppose it can’t be helped.” Momo hummed affirmingly. She wound her arms around his neck and pressed a kiss to his nose. In response, he grabbed her waist and rubbed little circles into the plush skin there. He then grimaced uncomfortably. “I don’t want to go up there.”

“Shoto, we can’t stay down here.”

“Why not?”

“Because! Come on. You’ve faced one fear; what’s another?” Shoto whined as she rose from the couch, letting the blanket fall from around her body. He remained kneeling on the floor, clinging to the hem of her nightshirt, and she nudged him with her painted toes. “Come on, Shoto. Better get it over with.”

“Fiiiiiiiine,” he grumbled, obediently rising. He remained clinging to the hem of her shirt and pressed his face into her curled hair, nearly smothering himself. “You can do the talking.” Momo snickered and patted his shoulder affectionately.

Who knew Shoto had such a fascinating fear? She thought amusedly as she toted him up the stairs. I would’ve never guessed…

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free toperuse my Table of Contents!

Tag List: @deliathedork @simplybakugou @lovelusional @wesparklebitch @gallickingun @songsforbnha @bnha-violetnote

#todomomo #todoroki x momo #todoroki x yaoyaorozu #yaoyaorozu x todroki #momo x todoroki #momo yaoyaorozu #yaoyaorozu momo #todoroki shoto #shoto todoroki #my hero academia #mha #bnha #my hero #boku no hero academia #mha fanfic #bnha fanfic #todomomo fanfic

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goodwriterwithbadhabits · 4 years

Text

Play Brave

(Alright, so as it turns out I can’t write mystery, so I made it kinda fluffy with lowkey hints of the beginning of a cop show. I hope you like it tho.)

Master List

“What you did was very brave.” The paramedic, a man whose name tag read “Wonpil”, complemented, dabbing the cut over your eyebrow with alcohol. “You’re lucky you aren’t seriously hurt.”

“I just wanted to protect my friends,” You confess, “Lots of crazy people out tonight.”

“Well, its a full moon, its Halloween, and everyone’s been cooped up for 6 months, I’m not really shocked everyone’s gone a little crazy.”

“Nurse Wonpil, how’s our little hero doing?” A new, yet familiar voice asks, which makes Wonpil roll his eyes.

“I’m an EMT, not a nurse. And Y/n here is fine, some cuts and bruises, but nothing warranting a hospital visit, unless you get a headache that persists longer than an hour, then go see a doctor.” You nod at the EMT, jumping down from the back of the ambulance to spot the mystery speaker.

“Detective-”

“Jaehyung Park.” You realize, “Everyone in town knows who you are.” You defend yourself awkwardly. He’s a lot more handsome in person, there's the hint of dark roots in his sandy blonde hair and his dark eyes are hidden behind big glasses. You wonder for a moment how people could think he’s intimidating. Yeah he was really tall, but he was kinda skinny and even in his dark clothes, didn’t look very threatening. “I thought you only worked as a violent crimes detective, I didn’t think a random dude with a knife would count.”

“It’s Halloween, the entire precinct is working where they’re needed.” He shrugs, “Besides, I think someone attacking trick or treaters is a bad thing.” You couldn’t stop the chuckle that bubbled up at his casual shrug. “Also, when Sungjin mentioned your name, I couldn’t help myself.” You freeze at his comment, more than just a little confused.

“Me? How come?”

“I read your book. “Something happened in Seoul” I’ve always liked mystery novels, so when I found out it was based on one of my cases, and you knew my Captain, I had to meet you.” He scratches at the back of his head nervously. “Kinda wish it was under more favorable circumstances.” You both laugh at his comment, and you’re thankful the darkness of the night is hiding your blush.

“Me too, but it’s always nice to meet a fan.” The silence that falls between you is heavy with something you can’t quite place. “Anyway, the investigation?” You prompt. Jae nods, laughing sheepishly as he pulls a pen and pad from his pocket.

“Right, you’re right. Where was I?” He double checks his notes, face falling serious as he refocuses on the case at hand. “Okay, your friends over there told me their version, can you tell me yours?” You nod, clearing your throat.

“My friends and I were walking home from Fabel, the bar on third. I was closest to the street and Minju was about a step behind me and in the middle and her brother Minsung was next to her on the house-side. We were talking about our plans for the rest of the night, when I heard what sounded like running footsteps. When I turned around, I thought it was maybe someone we knew, this guy was running towards us. He had something in his hand, but I couldn’t tell what it was. I don’t know why but I put myself between the twins and this guy and next thing I know he’s slamming into me. I didn’t fall, but when he tried going after them again I panicked. I grabbed his jacket and yanked him sideways, right into the bus stop. I didn’t realize he had grabbed my arms until I was already falling. I hit the other glass panel and went right though.” Jae winces as you gesture to the cuts on your face.

“Ouch.” He comments, “But Wonpil was right, that was pretty brave.” You huff at his words.

“Didn’t feel brave. I just panicked, the twins have never fought anyone ever, and I can survive a few cuts better than someone can a knife wound.” Jae nods, although you can tell its tentative.

“What can you tell me about the man?” You wrack your brain for a few moments, trying to recall all the small details.

“He had a kinda long beard, like maybe five inches, and it was curly and grey. I’m pretty sure he was Caucasian.” Jae nods along as you speak, diligently writing. “I’m pretty sure I was taller than him, and he was strong enough to take me down with him, so he isn’t weak.” Jae nods again, glancing up at you when you don’t add anything else.

“Is there more?” You shake your head, a little disappointed you couldn’t help further.

“I’m sorry, everything happened really quickly, I’m shocked I remembered that much.”

“Don’t be sorry. Did you see what happened to him after you fell?”

“He just got up and ran away like nothing happened. Minju called the police right after.” You pause thinking about the events of the last hour and can’t help but find it a little funny.

“What?”

“Nothing, I was just thinking, it’s Halloween, if you’re going to go around attacking people, why not wear a mask? Or dress up? This guy was just wearing jeans and a tshirt.” Jae lets out a small chuckle as well.

“That is kinda strange. Thank you for the information, and the call.” He glances back towards his partner and the twins. “I think Brian’s going to take them home, I’m sure he could drive you if you like?” You wave off his offer.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m only a few blocks from here, I can walk.” Jae looks at you like you’ve grown an extra head. “What?”

“Do you really think I’m going to let you just walk home alone after being attacked? Are you crazy?” He scoffs in disbelief when you don’t answer, turning back to the trio a few feet away. “Brian!” His partner sighs, reluctantly looking over.

“Don’t call me that.”

“I’m going to walk Y/n home. It’s not far, I’ll meet you back here in 15.” Brian nods, flashing you a thumbs up before turning back to the twins. Jae turns back to you, a lopsided grin on his face. “Shall we?”

You wave goodbye to the twins, who smile knowingly and wave enthusiastically before turning to lead Jae to your apartment.

“So, “Something Happened in Seoul” how’d you get that kind of information from Sungjin?” Jae begins, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his coat as you walk.

“Oh, we’re friends. I was working as a journalist at the time, so I was getting insider details.” You explain, trying not to glance over at him. He was very cute and it was very distracting.

“So how’d you two know each other?”

“College. His girlfriend at the time was my roommate. He used to hang out at our dorm all the time to avoid his roomie.” Jae’s laughter echoes off the houses around you and you have to physically restrain yourself from putting your hand over his mouth to quiet him down.

“I thought he and Dowoon were cool?” He wonders, tugging you closer by the wrist when someone on a bike rides past. You have to pray he can’t feel the way your heartbeat increases at his touch.

“They are now. But in the beginning when Dowoon was still figuring out his major he just played video games all night.” Jae laughter is much quieter this time around.

“So tell me, Y/n, how did you go from being a reporter, to writing a New York Times Bestseller?” You’re thankful, once again, for the darkness as your cheeks heat up again.

“I always wanted to be a writer.” You shrug. “Nothing had really piqued my interest, until Sungjin told me how you had found the kidnapper. I thought it would make a really interesting story.”

“And the romance? How did you come up with the idea of the reporter and the detective?” He glances over at you, a cheeky smile on his face.

“I um, everybody likes a cliche.” You’re pretty sure he can see right through your lie, but let's be real, you were not about to say “well the real detective was really hot and I was basically writing fanfiction” because that would be embarrassing. “This is my complex.” You point to the coded gate a few feet away.

“Ah, okay.” Neither of you move for a second, somehow feeling like this was some kind of date, and yet knowing it wasn’t. “So um, how about you give me your number so I can update you on what’s happening. Maybe you can write about it.” He refuses to look you in the eyes, but you’re pretty sure his cheeks are turning red.

“Maybe you can leave yours with my publisher?” You tease, turning to the gate to punch in the code.

“Maybe I can leave it with you?” He tries again, which makes you laugh to yourself. You tug open the gate, turning back to look at him.

“I’m having a book signing tomorrow at the Public Library. Second floor conference room. Bring your book and I’ll give you my number.” Jae’s smile is contagious as he shakes his head in disbelief.

“Alright, what time?”

“Noon.”

“Okay then, tomorrow at noon. Second floor conference room of the library.” He jots this down in his notebook with a nod. “I will see you then.”

“Have a good night, Detective.”

“You as well, Y/n, stay safe.” He closes the gate between you, his fingers lingering next to yours. He has a small, far-off smile as he stares at you. “See you tomorrow.” You tap his pinky with yours, some kind of silent promise to fulfill your end of the bargain.

“See you then.”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” You’re the first to move, taking a small step back, which seems to draw him back into himself. He offers you a small bow, and one last smile before heading back the way you came.

#jae park imagines #jae park imagine #jaehyung imagine #jaehyung imagines #day6 imagine #day6 imagines #jae #jae park #eaj #eajpark

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cagestark · 4 years

Note

Ok here's my prompt: college winterironspider, established winterspider and they want to do a trio costume with Tony as a way to show him they want him 💕💕

A late Halloween Prompt whipped up in thanks for boosting my friend’s rpg. Thank you! (Also you all say that Halloween is a 365 day event so 3 days late shouldn’t stop you right? ;)

Warnings: homophobia including slurs, some mention of smuttiness but nothing explicit, foul language. WinterIronSpider. 3.6k.

Tony flings open the dorm room door, already toeing off his sodden shoes. New England weather could turn on dime, and it had a habit of turning unfavorable on the 15 minute trek from the Chem labs back to his dorm room. His shirt is sticking to his skin, jeans heavy with rain. He can feel his hair, getting just this side of too long for how Howard likes it, dripping down the back of his neck.

Mother Nature hates him, and she’s not the only one, because Peter Parker is lounging on Tony’s roommate’s bed. Bucky is nowhere in sight, but the bathroom door is closed, so deductive reasoning is barely required. They’ve probably been fucking; the room has that musty scent that makes him twitch in his wet pants. Parker lays among the mussed sheets and blankets like the pillow princess he must be, curls riotous, beaming at the sight of Tony.

“Hey, Tony,” says Parker in the softest, cracking voice that Tony’s ever heard come from a nineteen-year-old. He blinks dazed, whiskey-colored eyes. “Y’re all wet.”

“I know. Where’s Barnes?”

“Bathroom.”

Tony hums. Barnes liked to take ridiculously long showers, conditioning his ridiculously long hair, moisturizing his ridiculously huge and attractive body. The guy was the antithesis to his boyfriend, large where Parker was small, dark where he was light, brooding where Parker was a goddamn ray of sunshine sneaking in through a crack in the curtains and blinding Tony. With Barnes in the shower, Tony is stuck shivering in his wet clothes, wishing he’d stayed out in the downpour and smoked a cigarette. Instead, he just sits on his bed—his sheets have seen worse than some rainwater. Opening up his bookbag, he sees that his textbooks are unscathed. Thank fucking God.

All the time, he feels Parker’s eyes on him. The kid is too pretty for his own good—both he and his boyfriend. When he came to MIT, he had envisioned dozens of nightmare scenarios regarding roommates. Maybe they’d steal his clothes, eat his food, leave their hair in the drain. Instead, he’d gotten a goddamn Calvin Klein model and his twink. Sometimes, Tony had to lay awake facing the wall on his side of the dorm room, pretending he didn’t hear the breathy giggles and dirty, foul whispers as the two fooled around while their roommate was ‘sleeping’. It left him unbearably hard, determined not to rut into the mattress lest they find out that he was still awake (and stop, God, please don’t stop—).

It was all very, very fucked up: how much Tony liked them; how much it made him hate them.

“You’re gonna catch pneumonia,” Parker says.

“What do you want me to do about it, kid?” Tony asks. He’s only three years older than Parker, but the kid seems so young—the enthusiasm, the naivete, the buoyancy. Tony can’t help but call him kid.

Parker raises his eyebrows. “It’s your room. Take off your clothes.”

Tony stops where he’s flipping through his textbook. He lets it fall closed with a thud, assessing Parker’s gaze. He looks innocent enough, maybe a little sleepy, but he wasn’t dumb by any means (a full ride to MIT proved that). Surely he had to know how that sounded, for him to tell his boyfriend’s roommate to undress in front of him.

“In front of you, Parker? I’ll take the pneumonia.”

The kid just grins, shaking his head. “Whatever. Are you going to the Halloween Party at Delta Psi?”

“Everybody is going to the Halloween Party at Delta Psi,” Tony answers flatly.

“Are you going to wear a costume?”

“Fuck no.”

“Because you have no idea what to wear, right.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “You’re a shit, Parker. So, what if I don’t? I’m an engineer; what do I need to dress up for?”

“I’m dressing Bucky; I could dress you too.”

“Yeah,” Tony snarks. “That’s just what I want.”

The bathroom door opens. Bucky appears in nothing but a towel around his hips. His abs violate state and federal laws—or at least if they don’t, they should. His hair is wet and up in a bun. Eyes like the ocean iced over drag up and down Tony’s body, making him feel heated despite the goosebumps on his skin. Tony is keenly aware of how his nipples have hardened, somewhere between the icy downpour and the sight of Parker looking fucked out on the twin-sized bed.

“Took you long enough,” Tony mutters. He grabs some clothes from the drawer and disappears into the bathroom, cranking the shower (and the drain is spotless because Barnes is a fucking good guy who cleans up after himself, the asshole) up to hellish proportions and peeling his wet clothes from his body. On the other side of the door are warm voices that are easy enough to tune out, or to tune into when he’s standing under the burning spray with a hand on his cock.

When he gets out of the shower, Parker is gone back to his own dorm. Bucky is eating a bowl of cereal, still shirtless. The words come out of Tony’s mouth before he can stop them: “Barnes, I think your boyfriend hit on me when you were in the shower. I just thought you might want to know that.”

Barnes stops chewing. He’s got the best poker face Tony has ever seen, no hint of anger or jealousy or surprise. His jaw closes again with an obscene, sugary crunch. After he swallows, he says, “Thanks, Tony. You’re a good friend.”

The first package arrives two days later. It’s for Tony, with no return address. He rolls his eyes—that’s just like his mother to be so dramatic as to not even say she’s sending him anything nor leave her mark. When he opens it though, there are no deliciously baked treats, no heartfelt (maybe a little distant) cards with carefully crafted handwriting, no trinkets that are hideous which he will be forced to cherish. Instead, it’s the ugliest pair of pants he’s ever seen: straight-legged and a size too big for him and a dirty gray.

“The fuck, mom,” Tony mutters. He tosses them aside. “Really off your game, crazy old bat.”

But when Barnes gets out of class and spots the box sitting on Tony’s desk, he points to it. “Did you get the first part of your costume?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your costume?” Bucky enunciates more, the fucking asshole, like Tony didn’t hear him the first time. “Peter told me that you said you were cool with him getting you a costume. He gets really fucking into Halloween. I saw this picture of him up in his Aunt’s apartment in Queens—”

Tony holds up a hand. “Stop. Rewind. I in no way told Parker he could dress me up for Halloween. Period.”

Barnes just raises his eyebrows. “That’s not what Peter thinks.”

“I couldn’t care less what he thinks, I’m not some doll for him to play with.”

“Next time he’s over, you can tell him so.” The guy’s pale eyes fucking glitter—glitter—like he knows that’s not going to go over well for Tony. And maybe it won’t, maybe Tony’s going to have to break some fucking hearts, but there’s no chance in hell he’s going to be caught dead in a costume, especially not one picked by a doe-eyed little twink like Parker.

But when Parker arrives for his date with Bucky two hours later, pink-cheeked from the windy cold, he’s got another little box tucked under his arm that he thrusts into Tony’s hands.

Tony thrusts it back. “Nope. Don’t want it.”

Parker frowns, looking up at Tony with those flat brows curled in confusion. “What do you mean? It’s for your costume.”

Barnes watches everything through the reflection in the mirror he keeps by his bed. He’s currently combing his hair like a schmuck (fuck, he looks so handsome), mouth pressed into a flat line, though Tony suspects that it’s more from holding back laughter than expressing any discontent. Tony chooses a point on the wall above Parker’s head and stares at it. The kid’s got eyes like vortexes, and Tony isn’t getting sucked in, no sir, not today.

“No costume. I’m not wearing a costume.”

“Sure you are, I’ve already bought the stuff. It’s started to arrive—did you get the pants?”

“Pants? Is that what they’re called? They’re hideous—” Barnes makes a noise in the corner that has Tony throwing a fuming glare his way. “I’m not going to wear them, or anything else. So return the stuff, kid.”

Parker stares down at the small package in his hands. “I—I can’t. I had it expedited so that it would get here in time for Halloween. No returns.”

“No re—? Well, fuck. That’s not my problem. I didn’t ask you to buy me stuff for a costume. What the hell were you going to dress me up as, anyway? A corpse from the 80’s?”

When Parker looks up, his eyes are a little misty. He rubs at one with his forearm, probably scratching himself with the wool from his coat. “It was gonna be a surprise.”

And yep. There it is. That does Tony in, because as much as Tony wishes he was the no good cruel piece of shit that plenty of people around MIT and the New England area like to label him as, he’s a sucker for tears. He’s seen his mom cry too many times, it just—it gets to him.

Tony snatches the package out of the kid’s hands. He points a finger at him. “No cartoon characters. No cross-dressing. No dorky inanimate objects, like a fork or a wet floor sign. Got it? Swear to God, kid, if you embarrass me in front of the whole school, I will never forgive you.”

“Why would I want to embarrass you?” Parker asks. He holds out a pinky. “It’s not embarrassing. Promise.”

“Fuck your pinky, man. Go on your date. Get out—you too Barnes, I don’t want to see either of your faces for like, two hours or something. Swear to God. I’m at the end of my rope, do you hear me? The end of my fucking rope.”

In the box is a scarf, long and plain and red. Tony rolls his eyes and sets it with the pants.

That night when he returns from his evening class, he finds that Barnes and his boyfriend have dragged all the blankets off of Bucky’s bed and onto the floor creating the warmest, coziest looking nest Tony’s ever seen. It looks like a slice of Heaven after coming in from the brutal cold. The best spot of all looks to be somewhere in between Barnes who is sprawled on his back, one arm behind his head and the other outstretched, and Peter who lays with his head cushioned on that ridiculous bicep. The size different between the two of them makes Tony’s mouth go dry.

On the wall, a Star Wars movie plays: The Empire Strikes Back.

Parker leans his head up, blinking at the sight of Tony in the doorway. He smiles, so soft and sweet that it hurts. “Hey Tony,” he says. He pats the blanket beside him. “Want to join us? There’s room.”

Tony hasn’t the slightest idea what to make of that. Not even a little one. Doesn’t Parker know how awkward that would be? For Tony to just cuddle in a pillow fort with Barnes and his boyfriend? Doesn’t Parker know how much that would hurt—

“No, I’ve got somewhere to be,” Tony lies. He steps out the door he had just came through and shuts it behind him. The library is always open on campus, and Tony falls asleep bent over the table there, cheek pressed into a book about the latest breakthroughs in Artificial Intelligence.

The next day arrives a plain white t-shirt in a plastic bag. Begrudgingly, Tony tries it on. It clings to his chest and the gentle six-pack he sports (nothing like Barnes who spends five days a week at the on-campus gym and drinks protein shakes in the morning). Turning sideways, he eyes himself in the mirror. At least this doesn’t look bad, certainly not with the way it clings to his biceps, but he will be fucking freezing.

Barnes comes in and catches Tony checking himself out in the mirror. For a moment, Tony thinks that maybe Barnes is checking him out, too, but—

“Looks good,” Bucky purrs. Making fun of Tony, surely.

Tony flips him the bird, but the guy just laughs.

“What is he dressing you up as?” Tony asks. Purely out of curiosity. Knowing how whipped Barnes was, Peter could dress him up as anything and he’d take it. Even something embarrassing or emasculating.

Barnes just rolls his eyes. “You know him. It’s a secret.”

The comradery with which he says it, like of course Tony knows how Peter is—something about it itches at the back of Tony’s brain, a mosquito that has landed and started to suck at his blood. But it’s no surprise that Barnes and his boyfriend are weirdos who like to spend more time having ‘dates’ in their dorm room with Tony rather than at a restaurant or the movies or any fucking where else.

But, like all things that Tony doesn’t want to wonder about, he pushes to the back of his brain.

The next day, it is a denim jacket and hideous combat boots.

“Fashion homicide,” Tony mutters.

The day before Halloween brings Tony a red flannel shirt.

“Goddamnit,” he says, holding it up so Barnes can see. “What is he dressing me up as, a lesbian?”

It isn’t until he’s assembling it all in the bathroom that he puts it together—and okay. It’s not bad. Bender was easily the coolest character in the Breakfast Club, though his fashion sense was nothing like Tony’s. The layers—white shirt under flannel under denim—are a little stifling, but out in the cold fall air, it would be perfect. He even combs his hair back.

All in all, Parker could have done far, far worse.

But when he comes out of the bathroom and finds the two of them in the dorm room, he sees that Parker has done worse.

Matching costumes.

Parker is Brian through and through. He looks like a total scrub in his khakis with Nike sneakers on, the long-sleeved sweater that clings to his thin frame. A ballpoint pen is tucked behind his ear, wrist-watch circling the delicate little wrist, and to top it off, a pair of sunglasses are looped over the collar of his sweater.

And Barnes? Forgone are his goth threads. He sits on his bed wearing blue jeans that hug his broad thighs, the whitest shoes that Tony’s ever seen, and a goddamn blue wifebeater that shows off his arms, both heavily muscled. Folded on his pillow is a letterman jacket, and Tony doesn’t even like jocks, but his cock twitches at the sight, thinking of slipping it down off of Bucky’s bare shoulders.

“No—we match,” Tony says.

Peter lights up. “Yes! You got it! The Breakfast Club is a classic.”

“I should have said no matching costumes. We look like—” like boyfriends, Tony thinks, “—like queers. I’m not going out like this.”

“Watch the slurs you throw around,” Barnes says, his mouth an unhappy, flat line.

Tony winces. “I—I didn’t mean it like that. But this is taking it to a whole new level that I’m not comfortable with. Not to mention, three gays all going out in matching costumes? Isn’t that a little suggestive?”

“Suggestive of what?” Parker asks. He’s holding fingerless gloves—the last part of Tony’s costume. It’s the cherry on top. With the cigarettes that Tony plans to be chainsmoking thanks to the stress of this whole event, he’ll be method acting his character all night.

“Come on. Suggestive, suggestive. Like we’re all—” Tony mashes his hands together.

Barnes reaches out, hand flat, arm flexing nicely. He doesn’t even look at Parker and Parker doesn’t look at him, but they slap hands in a high five.

“Am I speaking in tongues? I’m not fucking leaving like this; I’m not going to have the whole campus thinking I’m your loser third wheel.” It would be too painful, when there’s a shameful part of him that would gladly be the third wheel to them, that’s desperate to be between them. This feels like the crudest parody.

“You wouldn’t be,” Peter says.

“Pete, maybe we shouldn’t do this right now,” Barnes interrupts.

“No, Bucky, this was supposed to—supposed to be cute!” Parker turns away from them, towards the wall by Tony’s bed. He drops the gloves there and crosses his arms. It would be petulant if it wasn’t so heartbroken, the curve of his shoulders, his head drooping down morosely. Instead, the kid just looks like he’s trying to hold himself together.

Tony sighs. It takes Herculean strength not to roll his eyes. “Kid. I’m sorry. Clearly this meant a lot to you. Fuck knows why, but—”

Peter turns around, eyes tearful and flashing with anger. He reaches up to his ear, fiddling with the lobe with trembling fingers. Grabbing Tony’s wrist, he puts a little diamond earing in his palm, just like Claire did with Bender.

“What’s this?” Tony says, shoulders hunching. “My ears aren’t pierced.”

“Yes they are,” Peter says through his teeth. “You probably got them pierced five or so years ago, but your dad was an asshole about it and made you take them out. It’s been ages and the holes are hard to see but they still won’t close.”

Tony blanches. He can still hear the way Howard demeaned him, spent the whole dinner talking his Tony’s mother about how ridiculous the boy looked, how it gave people ideas about him, because pierced ears are for women and the only men who have them are faggots. “How the fuck do you even know that?”

“Do you think I’m dumb?” This is the loudest Peter’s ever been, his usual fragile voice replaced by this one that is sure and angry and doesn’t crack. “One: I spend every moment that I’m not looking at Bucky looking at you. I’ve got eyes; I know what a hole in an ear looks like, thanks. Two: your dad is an asshole about everything. He’s probably the reason why you don’t drink mixed drinks, why you call us queers even though you’re bi, why you lie and say you’re going to spend the whole holiday break at home but then come back and spend it here alone in the dorm. Because your dad is an asshole.

“He’s probably the reason why you’re such a fucking dunce too. A thick skull must run in the family, because Bucky and I have been hitting on you the entire semester and even though you go into the bathroom to jerk off every time you come back to the dorm and catch us making out, you won’t make a move or, or let us make the move, and—”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Tony says, his own voice rising to a shout. “You’ve been doing all this bullshit on purpose? Blowing Barnes when you know I’m awake? Skipping around here in your underwear because, what, you know it turns me on? Because you want to out me? Am I a fucking joke to you?”

“No,” Peter shouts, slapping a hand flat on Tony’s chest. “We like you, fuckface!”

The force of Peter’s tiny hand barely makes Tony sway, but the words—those might as well knock him to his knees. He feels like the scarf around his neck is on too tight, like there’s not enough air in the room. He licks his lips, his eyes moving between Peter’s red-rimmed eyes and nose (he’s an ugly crier) and Bucky who is still sitting on the twin bed watching them, his face white and afraid.

“You like me?” Tony asks. “What does that even mean? You two are together.”

“It means,” Peter says, taking Tony’s fist, coaxing open the anxious fingers to wear the diamond stud earring still rests, cutting into his palm. Peter presses his thumb against it, tenderly. “That we like you. We want you. To get to know you. You—and not your hang-ups.”

Tony shakes his head, taking his hand from Peter’s burning grip. “I—I can’t do that. My dad—”

“—is an asshole,” Bucky mutters.

Tony snorts softly. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re not wrong.”

“We don’t have to go home with you at Thanksgiving or Christmas or ever, if you don’t want,” Peter says. “We just want a chance. We want you to do something for yourself. Not your dad. Does that make sense?”

The silence lingers around the room. Somewhere in the distance, Halloween music is playing, ghoulish noises and moans and witch-like cackling. Mouth dry, Tony takes the backing off of the stud earing and reaches up, feeling for the holes in the lobes of his ears. It’s been years since he wore them, and his hands are trembling so badly that he can’t even find them—

“I’ll help you,” Peter says tenderly, taking the earring. He has it in in a moment and leans back, taking Tony in from head to toe.

“Well?” Tony asks. He clears his throat—there’s something stuck in it, some lump that he has to swallow away. He holds out his arms. “How do I look?”

“Gay,” Bucky says from the corner, smiling.

“That’s it!” Tony shouts. “I’m not going! Thanks for nothing! I’m out!”

“Tony,” Peter groans. “He was just joking, he’s—”

But Tony is already stalking to the dorm room door and pulling it open. He stops to glance over his shoulder at Bucky and Peter who are watching him with wide eyes. “Well?” he says. “I’m all for being fashionably late, but if we don’t get going, there’s not going to be anything left of the keg—”

The two scramble for their jackets and follow him out the door.

#winterironspider #tw: homophobia #tw: f slur #tw: q slur #college!winterironspider #Halloween prompt #cagewrites #longfic

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