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wornoutmouse · 4 years

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Illumi x Poc Reader

I wrote this cause I don't see any Poc readers with hxh like I do mha😫 Also not sure if I'll make this into a story what do you think?

You weren't the strongest nen user in the world, hell you weren't even in the top 50. So if someone were to ask you why you were currently having dinner with the most feared family in Padokea you would have no choice but to just shrug your shoulders. You glanced around quietly eating your meal as your posture became stiff as a board the longer the silence became. You were not naive to the fact that there were many eyes on you both literally and figuratively.

Sitting across from you was a rather large man with long white hair calmly eating his food. He was almost a mirror image of the older man to his left. Although shorter in stature you could practically taste the power radiating from him.

'This must be Illumi's grandfather' you thought

Next to the old man was a large boy with shiny black hair similar to Illumi's noisily chewing while focusing with a mobile game in his right hand. Someone you deducted to be his sister sat next to him in a black and pink kimono quite similar to the one your were forced to wear before arriving, she ate her food quietly. Finally turning towards the lady of the house who's hard gaze you could feel on your face ever since you arrived.

Clearing your throat you opted for small talk trying to lessen the tension. "Who made dinner, it's delicious." The woman clapped her hands together in a gleeful manor, "Do you really think so? The new butler prepared it but I found it a bit dry so they were promptly fired!" She replied voice getting hard at the word fired. It was not hard to understand that fired was Zoldyck for killed. You stared down incredulously at the rice and beef on the table that was practically oozing in tenderness and moisture. "Oh really?" You respond lightly trying to keep a blank face as the woman snapped her silver spoon in half bellowing a obnoxious, 'Oh dear!'

You swallowed shallowly as you watched a servant immediately present her a new fork. You came to a decided conclusion that this woman was off her rocker. You opened your mouth to speak again before a quick sharp pain spread up your leg piercing through all the layers of your kimono. Tensed you pluck some beef into your mouth at the same time you plucked the object out of your flesh. Based on the thin length leading to a round end you shuddered glacing at Illumi who was now missing one of his needless from his vest. This was obviously a warning to stay quiet.

After the meal Illumi ushered you down the hall and up many stairs before shoving you into a dark room causing you to trip and almost fall. You huff angrily turning to your captor, "What is this about Illumi?" You ask flicking his needle towards his face marveling at how easily he caught it gently between his long slender fingers returning it to his place above his heart. "It was only to get you to stop speaking. It wouldn't have been long before my mother threw a fit and that would be rather annoying." He replied nonchalantly his dark eyes staring into yours before promptly turning and walking towards a linen closet.

You combed your hand through your disheveled afro that you were unable to fix after Illumi had made you open his heavy ass 'front door' you personally called bullshit on that one. But had no choice since you were immediately threatened if you refused.

"If you are unable to open at least one of the doors then you are not worth my time and will be disposed of."

Plopping down on the plush bed you gasp as you sank down a few inches grasping at the silk sheets. "What could I have possibly done to upset your mama? I opened 2 of your stupid doors and I put on this kimono just like you asked!" You asked exasperated as you tugged on the kimono that had clung to your round figure no matter how much you loosened the sash. Illumi closed the closet turning with two stacks of purple linen in his hands perfectly folded. "That is true. Infact she was estatic at your efforts at first. But that all changed of course when I told her that I was open to marrying you."

Your heart sunk into your stomach like your body in the bed at those words. You shuttered at the thought of marrying this deranged man and bearing his fish eyed offspring. His monotone voice and blank face only fueled your reasoning as he spoke about marriage as though he was shopping for bread. "What the hell do you mean marriage!?" The only reaction you received was a show blink, "You managed to intrigue me, anyone capable of that needs to be monitored closely and what better way to do that than marriage?" You roll your eyes and gestured universally, "How about, I don't know, literally ANYTHING! Be roommates you know, like normal people!" Illumi looked almost as though he was pondering on the idea before shaking his head

"No, besides it's about time I've settled down don't you think." You dead panned absolutely positive that your ideas of settling down where vastly different. "I'm sure your mother does not approve of you marrying someone you just met." Illumi's mouth twitched up hinting at a smirk, "No, things like that are common around here, her problem is about how weak you are." He paused for a moment waking towards making you mean away as he sets his long arms on either side of you, caging you between the bed and himself examining your features before continuing, "And she's not too keen on mixing different backgrounds into our pure Japanese heritage." Your blink slowly trying to calm your heart beat at the proximity before scoffing looking towards the window to your left so you wouldn't cry in fear, "Offend me why don't you?"

He leaned away plopping one of the purple stacks into your lap, "Let's go shower." He says heading to the bathroom stopping when he realized you weren't following. "Well, come along." You looked at him like he'd lost his damn mind, which he had apparently. "You got me messed up if you think I'm getting in the shower with you Playboy continue your journey and leave me alone." You say rolling into your side facing away from him in order for you not to go back on your choice in fear only to relax at the sound of the bathroom door opening and closing.

FLASHBACK

You gasped in exhaustion as you ran as far as your legs would take you. Flying through the dense forest trying to keep a close ear on the sounds of twigs snapping at your right. 'I'm totally fucked' you thought as the sound easily caught up to you.

You didn't understand how you got into this situation. You were simply visiting your uncle at his new estate. You knew he got his wealth in greasy ways but not enough to put a hit on himself.

You propel yourself off of a branch trying to get higher into the trees. You wondered if your uncle was still alive. He was a more advanced nen user so if he doesn't survive you surely won't. You pushed yourself harder through the trees thinking back to seconds before the ambush.

Your uncle was giving you a saphire necklace that he had aquired through questionable means. The only thing that gave away something was wrong was the fact that the estate was completely silent with no sound of his rowdy partners celebrating through booze and marijuana. At that realization, he ushered you though the bedroom window just as his room door slammed open. All you saw before you jumped was long ebony hair and dull black eyes. You landed on the ground in a awkward way, spraining your ankle but wasted no time pushing through the pain; breifly recalling what your mother said when she sent you here.

"You just learned nen basics so you're not adept to protecting yourself. Your uncle Ricky messes around with dirty folk so if he tells you to run then run baby and don't look back."

So here you were, flying through the air just 2 months after your first nen training, putting everything you knew to the test. After long last, you burst through the trees finally able to see your surroundings illuminated with the moonlight.

You began bounding across the tops before something sharp stabbed through your sprained tendon, causing you to fall far and hard back into the forest.

You groaned, sitting up and blinking rapidly, you try to adjust your eyes to the change in scenery. Standing up shakily, you take a step forward before you feel a large weight land on your back, pushing you face down into dirt and dried leaves.

"There is no use resisting child. Stay still and I will consider making your death quick~" Came a silky voice above you. "Such wasted potential~" Before you could respond, everything went black signalling that your clone had met it's demise. You blinked yourself bringing your consiousness back into your real body. "Wow that nen trick really did work, maybe that old lady wasn't crazy." You mutter wincing at the ghost of pain you felt drumming through your ankle. Once you casted your nen on a pile of twigs, you quickly ran in the opposite direction. Only watching from it's own eyes so the movements would seem fluid.

"I should hurry it won't be long till they realise they were tricked."

You quickly ran into a small tourist town and headed to the nearest bar so you could ease your pain. Sliding onto the stool you wave over the bar keep. "A shot of vodka for the road!" You call out, already grimacing at the taste you'd have to force yourself through. The bartender looked at you and smirked before sliding you a root beer float.

You stared at the ice cream floating in your glass before looking at him like he was crazy. "Sorry sweety but your babysitter said to give you something light."

He gestures behind you, and you turn to look choking sightly as breath catches in your throat.

Right behind you were familiar dull black eyes pearing down at you. This man was tall, at least 6 feet plus with pale white skin, and long hair. He was dressed like a Christmas tree with gold bulbs adorning his green top. "Can I help you?" You ask trying to feign innocence. The man stiffly sat down in the stool next to you ignoring you for the time being. "Barkeep please give me what you gave her." He said point to your float. Once he received his, he looked at it for a while as the ice cream sunk into the root beer. The silence was terrifying but you found yourself getting lost in his sharp features and his calculating hands as they wrapped around the tall glass.

"How did you do your little trick?" He asked pulling you out of your trance. You blink slowly, "What trick?" You ask tensing as his head turns towards you looking into your eyes almost daring you to lie

"I told my colleague to rid the area of any strays in the area. He informed me that he was persueing the 'cute Cocoa girl with the curly hair." He faced his drink swiping the dripping cream and slowly licking it off his finger never breaking eye contact. "So you can imagine my surprise when I find my self persueing the same girl. So I want to know how you did it."

You fold your arms and began drinking your float indignant to the situation. "Sorry, family secret, I can't tell you." You suddenly feel something thin yet sharp pressing into yout neck as a sultry voice chuckled from behind you. "How sneaky of you my dear, tricking me into following a ploy."

The ebony haired man watched your face looking for a reaction and you looked back the best you could without provoking your neck being slit. With a sigh the man drunk some of his float licking the ice cream from his lips, "Stand down Hisoka, we don't want a repeat of last time." And you could only imagine what that meant. There was a chuckle, "Oh Illumi my dear your no fun~" the mystery person replied. But the force was removed from your neck.

#illumi #hxh #illumi zoldyck #x reader #poc reader #hisoka

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hitsuackerman · 4 years

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Why Did It Have to be Him? pt. 4 (Aizawa x Reader)

a/n: sorry this got delayed :( this was supposed to be uploaded a lot earlier but then my laptop is basically dead at this point huhuhu legit waited for 30mins just for the chrome to stop lagging T.T welp... thank quirks for company laptops XD

that being said... here is part 4 for our Daddyzawa! <3

ps. i had to put an age for this fic :3 so you are 17 as the rest are 16 xD

Warnings: Student-Teacher relationship, Age-gap, Cursing, Not so subtle flirting

Link: Part 1, Part 2, part 3, part 5

Materlist for my other fics :) here

All aboard the Aizawa-train!: @yukiimanic @leeeah-loooser

A few days have passed and you were now fully settled in your dorm. There wasn’t much to it but Aizawa managed to persuade you to buy new sheets and curtains to match. You weren’t exactly sure why but you complied nonetheless.

Monochromatic that’s how you liked things. Since he gave you full control as to what colors you could choose, you simply went for black.Of course, you made sure that a pop of color would add life to your room. A few trinkets here and there, your room looked good to go. Simplicity is key, that’s what you kept reminding yourself.

But it was rather ironic how your “love life” wasn’t as simple. It was much easier to see him back in your house. Now that you were living only a mere block away from the teacher’s dorm, it only made things much harder. Though, you understood, it was still frustrating not being able to see him as much as you wanted.

While doing your assignments, your phone rang. Not bothering to see who the caller was, you picked it up. Slowly, the corners of your mouth turned upwards. Right on schedule.

“Not disturbing anything, am I?” He asked. In the background, you could hear the keyboard’s soft tapping.

“Nope. I’m just about finished here.” Gathering your books and papers, you neatly stacked and put them away. Looking at the time, there was still 45 minutes before curfew starts. “I am hungry though, so I might have to run to the nearest convenient store~”

“Isn’t the fridge stacked with snacks, though?” The typing sounds had stopped and you heard a soft grunt.

“It is but they don’t have those juice packs I like.” There was some risk to this but you wanted to see him. It was hard enough that all you could do inside the classroom was to sit and stare at him. “Of course, I’m not implying anything. I do plan on leaving in about 5 minutes or so.”

“Do as you please, (Y/N).” He let out a soft chuckle before hanging up the call.

Grabbing your sweatshirt and wallet, you silently exited your room. Thankfully, the majority of rooms had their lights on. And, technically, it wasn’t curfew so you could still manage to buy a few snacks the dorm’s fridge had to offer. Shaking your head, you knew you couldn’t fool yourself.

Ever since the kiss, he became even more intoxicating. His musky scent and how you felt his arms wrapping around your small stature (compared to his at least) was addicting. It was a picture hard to forget, him straddling you in the comforts of your bed. The strands of his soft hair caging you from the outside world. Or maybe it was how his hot breath brushed your cheeks that made things even more irresistible? Closing the doors to the building, you were met with the row of streetlights. Each of them casting enough light to ensure safety to those who would walk the streets at this time of night. Of course, everyone knew this area was safe, afterall, only an idiot villain would dare attack near UA.

A little further and you could see the neon sign of the convenience store. Near the entrance, a man caught your eye. He was wearing an all black ensemble and his grayish pale skin made him look unreal. Yet, the all too familiar bun caused your heart to race.

Upon seeing your figure approaching his, he could feel the smirk forming on his mouth. It had only been a few hours since he last saw you but it was inside classroom settings. The secret glances you two would give each other was fun but he somehow wanted more. When you passed by him, he could make out the faint smell of your lingering body lotion. Very stimulating to the senses.

Trailing behind you, his eyes began to linger all over your back. Sure, you had a sweatshirt on but in his eyes you looked too good not to hug. When you turned towards the small aisle for chips, he glanced at the ceiling. The cameras were on the other side of the store. As you were choosing what junk to munch on, he leaned forward and rested his head on your shoulder.

Jumping at the sudden sensation of his warmth radiating on your cheek, all the heat travelled upwards as your eyes met his. The dullness to them now replaced with a hint of playfulness. His calloused hand began to brush yours. Slowly making their way up before he let go to grab a bag for himself.

Once again, your stomach felt all the butterflies going crazy with his touch. Chewing on your lower lip, you let out a shaky sigh as he lifted his head. Slowly walking away without looking back.

Such a tease.

Two can play that little game, you thought.

Aizawa made his way towards the refreshments. Searching for the perfect drink to pair with his chips, he settled for a can of beer. It wasn’t allowed but he could easily sneak it in knowing it was almost curfew. In his peripheral version, he could see you choosing as well. Following your hands, he saw how you had just chosen a can of soda.

“Got everything you need?” He asked.

“Not yet. I need some chocolate.” Pulling him towards the aisle with chocolates, you saw your target. The one you had been craving for a week now. Scanning the area, you saw how the coast was clear and it was your turn to make your move. “Hey, can you hold these for a sec?”

Handing him your stuff, you turned around and began to tug on the hems of your sweatshirt. His eyebrows jumped at your small actions. When you began to strip off your sweatshirt. The heavy material lifted your undershirt quite a bit. A bit of your skin got exposed to the coldness the store had to offer.

The coldness had no effect on Aizawa. Instead, he felt heat growing in his system. His mouth suddenly felt dry. His finger twitched and his jaw clenched. The hold he had on the goods tightened. Upon seeing you bend down to grab a bar of chocolate, the neckline of your shirt was big enough to expose the black strap of your bra.

‘Behave, Shota.’ His mind scolded him. ‘This is the only line you should NOT cross. At least not yet.’

Through your peripheral vision, you could see just how much your plan had worked. His squinted eyes only gave away his deposition. Flicking your hair just as you faced him, you caught a hold of his stare and blinked innocently.

“What’s wrong,” You took a step forward as you got a hold of your things. “Shota?”

His eyebrow jerked and his mouth was now a desert. Not wanting for things to get out of hand, he walked past you and made his way to the counter. Every ounce of his concentration focused on not pinning you against the wall and giving the cashier a show. Biting the corner of his tongue he paid for his purchase and waited outside as you paid for yours.

“You okay, sensei?” The last word was rather breathy, just as you intended it to be. Seeing him controlling himself was rather fun. He was struggling and the signs were very subtle. The only thing giving him away were his twitching eyes and furrowed brows.

Grabbing the bag of food from you, he led the way back to campus grounds. His eyes scanning the area and taking note of the small cameras set up on the street lights. The both of you were now approaching a blind spot. Letting out a rather long sigh, he held on to your wrist and pulled you into the dimly lit area.

“Be quiet.” Aizawa instructed.

Your eyes widened as you began to realize what he was planning on doing. The cameras would surely pick all of that up but then again, if he knew the area well then it should be fine. Heart now racing, you chewed on your inner cheek as the both of you were now approaching the blind spot. The small alcove one of the buildings had.

Things were now a blur.

The small squeak that escaped your mouth as your back hit the wall was immediately muted when his lips crashed into yours. Literally taking your breath away, you eased into the kiss. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled the elastic band from his hair. On your tiptoes, you leaned on to his torso for support. Your knees were now barely functioning.

Knowing what was running through your thoughts, he bent down a little. His hands held tracing whatever curves your body had to offer. When you began to nibble on his lip, his hand grabbed your knee pit and lifted you. More than happy that you instantly clung your legs around his waist.

Tugging on his hair, he accidentally let out a small groan. Feeling your soft lips making their way towards his neck sent was enough for him to tighten his hold on you. The sucking sensation that followed made his member twitch and his pants tighten. A chill ran down his spine when your tongue trailed its way up to his jaw.

“Fuck...” He growled once your noses were touching once more. Running his tongue across your lip, you parted your mouth to give him entry. Tugging on your lower lip, he went back in with a much more long and thorough kiss. When he parted his lips from yours, his hot citrusy breath brushed your face. “Don’t tease me unless you know what you want, kitten.”

“Oops.” You brushed your nose against his. Your heavy lidded eyes hazy with need. The way he gave you a pet name hit differently. “My bad~”

The tips of his lips began to travel down your neck. Using his nose to move the neckline of your shirt, he licked a patch of your skin before biting on to it. The small moan echoing in his ears made curious. What other sounds could he make you do if he were given the chance?

‘This isn’t the right place, Shota.’ Once again his thoughts managed to save him from moving any further.

Pecking your lips once more, he put you down and patted your head. Despite the dimness, he could still see how flushed you were. Fixing himself, he looked at his watch and gestured that it was time to head back.

“Just in time for curfew~” You teased. “I won’t get in trouble now, right?”

“(Y/N).” He brushed his fingers with yours. The short contact the both of you shared was something his body still yearned for. “You are aware that you're still 17 right?”

“Yes.” Your step still had a certain hop to them. “And I’m aware that my birthday is coming up.”

“I’m not implying anything.” He handed your bag of food. Now giving a safe distance between you two. “I just want us to be careful. You’re still young.”

“Are you doubting?” The slight sadness in your voice was something you couldn’t hold back. “If it clears things up, I really am serious about you. I was shocked but elated that you were more than willing to try if things would work out. But, if you really don’t want to do this then I’ll back out. At least it’s still early and won’t hurt as much.”

“I never said I didn’t want to do it.” He stated. “What happened back there, I almost got carried away. I wouldn’t want you to regret this or… us.”

“Us?” The smile on your face was rather adorable for him. You felt your cheeks heating up at the confirmation that there really is something between you two and that it wasn’t just you carrying the feelings.

Lifting the corners of his mouth, he patted your head once more before picking his pace up. Ready to head back to the teacher’s dorms.

“Wait for my call later,” He glanced at you over his shoulder. A smirk on his face. “Kitten.”

“That I will, Aizawa-sensei.” You replied with a huge smile on your face.

Running back to the dorms, you carefully opened the doors. Making sure that no one was around, you snuck across the hall and took the stairs. The dimly lit hallway towards your room made things easier.

Moments later, you were now munching on chips. Your phone rang and for the rest of the night, till one of you finally caved in to slumber, Aizawa and you spent it on talking about whatever topics came to your mind.

At the end of call, both of you agreed that convenience stores would now be a recurring thing.

- - - - -

if you want to be tagged in part 5 :) feel free to leave a comment :)

#aizawa x reader #mha aizawa #bnha aizawa #aizawa shouta #shouta x reader #shota aizawa x reader #eraserhead

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supernaturalfreewill · 4 years

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Words: 5,089 Demon!Dean x Reader Warnings: None really! Summary: Y/N meets Lucifer and moves forward with plans. We learn a little more about what once happened between Y/N and Dean. A/N: This has been a long time coming. I have had writer's block on this story for some time, but I think I've worked through it! This is part of a series! Read the other parts first! Part 1 :: Part 2 :: Part 3 :: Part 4 :: Part 5 :: Part 6 :: Part 7 :: Part 8.

Your name: submit What is this?

The constant thunder served to cover the sound of your approaching footsteps. You entered alone—the demon underlings refused to enter the chamber and were quite literally shaking in their boots. But not you. You strolled into the darkness, broken at first only by the blinding flashes of lightning. As you approached the hulking structure, flames rose up and licked around it in a circle, obscuring any view of what you knew to be inside. You stopped at the edge of the fire, the intense heat blowing back your hair, and raised a hand before slowly dropping it to the ground. The fire abated, obeying your command. The interior of the rectangular cage was cloaked in shadow and stillness. You stared hard into the abyss, trying to pick up some movement or shape. You didn’t have to strain your eyes for long.

There were suddenly two points of fiery light burning deep within the darkness—his eyes. They were red hot, like the irises were made of flame, but after a moment they dimmed and disappeared. Footsteps followed, slow and deliberate, and echoing loudly in the cavernous chamber, even over the sound of the thunder cracking and rolling overhead. You marveled at this inwardly now. How could there be thunder and lightning? Wasn’t there a ceiling of some sort way up there? Something, somewhere above you? But apparently He and His effects defied explanation.

You stepped over the line of holy oil that had been burning at your feet and he came into view. And he was looking right at you with curiosity as he emerged from shadow.

Your heart beat a little faster.

“Yes, I can see that easily,” he said, turning his eyes back to you again, guessing at what you were thinking. His lips curled into a devious smirk. “But there’s something else, isn’t there?” You did your best to keep very still and to keep your face impassive. He pressed his face close to the bars and his eyes bored into you. The intensity of his gaze was unbelievable and you almost quailed under it for a brief moment before you steeled yourself again. Best not to show weakness to the literal Devil during your first meeting. “How is it that a Knight of Hell is walking around with an almost untouched human soul still?”

You gulped at the tightness in your throat but said nothing. He only smiled wider. “Where, oh, where did you get that?” He let out a chuckle and stretched his arms up over his head casually and sighed. “Aren’t we going to meet properly?” he asked.

You gulped, hoping your voice wouldn’t come out strained and tight with nerves. “You don’t know who I am?” you asked him.

“Can’t exactly get the news or the weather down here,” he said in a singsong voice. “And you’re not one of the old Knights of Hell.” The devious smirk grew on his face again. “I certainly would remember you. You’re all shiny and brand new.”

You swallowed again at the tightness in your throat. You hated to admit it, but he radiated power.

“So, you have me at a disadvantage, you see,” he said. He kept his voice low, the tone still casual, like you were two strangers meeting at a bar. “You obviously know who I am because you came looking for me. No way to stumble on this place by accident—and I’m a little conspicuous. But I don’t know who you are, so let’s remedy that.” He stuck an outstretched hand through the bars. You eyed him warily. What was your move here? Could you snub a handshake from frickin’ Lucifer? Was it some sort of trick? Could he really do anything to you? Afterall, he was still in the cage.

You stepped forward and grasped his hand, your heart hammering in your chest. He took a firm hold of yours and tugged suddenly. You couldn’t stop a small, surprised gasp from leaving your lips as you were pulled right up to the bars in front of him. His eyes, no longer wreathed in flame, were an icy gray blue and they were again boring into yours. You felt a chill climbing up your arm from the hand he was clutching. He lifted your hand in his and brought it slightly through the bars, kissing the back of it before his lips curved into a mischievous smile. “Enchanté,” he said. The corners of his eyes crinkled with his smile. He finally let your hand fall from his, leaving your fingers still feeling strangely cold. You stepped back.

“I’m Y/N,” you finally managed.

For some reason this sent him chuckling again and he hopped a little playfully away from the edge of the cage, one foot at a time. “Oh, you are? …perhaps I do know something about you,” he said. The smile was still on his lips and there was a brightness in his eyes as he turned back in your direction. You gave him a questioning look. He shrugged. “I used to have some loyal followers who managed to get the occasional message to me. Before Crowley put a stop to that… In any case, you,” he said, pointing at you with his index finger, “run with the Winchesters.”

“I used to,” you corrected him. He looked at you with renewed interest.

“Are you sure? From what I’ve seen the only way out with those two is six feet under, you know what I mean?” he said with a fake grimace. He rubbed at the stubble on his chin. He gripped a bar in each hand and stared at you, seemingly studying your face again. “How exactly did you become a Knight of Hell?”

“That really isn’t important,” you replied.

A smile flickered on his lips again and he shrugged carelessly. “Right. I’m sure it has nothing to do with Dean being a Knight of Hell…”

You licked your lips a little nervously but said nothing. He seemed to know more than he first let on.

“Hmm. And, uhh, Y/N, that human soul glowing inside you… is that yours? It seems surprisingly unmarred. Pretty unusual. In fact, I can’t think of ever hearing of anything like it in all my eons.”

“I have a proposition for you,” you interrupted loudly, wanting to steer him back toward your purpose and away from your backstory.

“Ooh? Is that so? You have a proposition for me? Because I have several in mind for you.” Lucifer bit his bottom lip. “As you can imagine it has been a very, very long time since I had any visitors, let alone one quite as striking at you are. And I’d really like to get to know you better,” he smirked.

You ignored his innuendo. “How would you feel about running Hell?” you asked him bluntly.

You saw a flash of something in his eyes, maybe desire or surprise. “From in here?” he asked, gesturing to the cage. “Well, that’s quite impossible,” he chuckled. “Besides, I don’t think Crowley would concede.” There was a question in his voice and you knew he was trying to feel you out.

“You don’t have to worry about Crowley. He’s… let’s say, indisposed.”

“Is he dead?” Lucifer asked, an eager and hopeful look on his face. “Because that would be great news. I’m so sick of that little, meddling twerp…”

“So, you’d be interested?” you asked again.

“Sign me up,” he said, again leaning casually on the bars, wiggling his eyebrows at you. “But what’s the catch?” Every time he looked at you, you felt like he could see you without your clothes on… and you couldn’t figure out if he actually could, or if perhaps he was seeing your true form, your soul or some Knight of Hell version of it… It was a vulnerable feeling, and if there was one feeling you hated as a demon it was vulnerability.

“There would be certain concessions you’d have to make. Things you would need to agree to,” you said. “Terms.”

He smiled deviously. “Really? And you’d just take Big Bad Lucifer at his word?”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “Of course not.”

He pointed at you enthusiastically and chewed on his bottom lip again. “I like you. You have spunk.” He paced slowly in the cage, but his eyes stayed fixed on you. “I’d like to know more about these concessions and exactly how you think you’re going to hold me to them. But more importantly I want to know why you’re even here in the first place.”

You thought about how to answer that question for a long moment. There were several reasons you had ended up where you were… which one should you offer up? Or should you offer up none of them? But, finally, you settled on a half-truth. “Revenge,” you said. This snapped Lucifer’s eyes to your face and a faint smile grew on his lips.

He chuckled and wiped a thumb over his bottom lip. “Personally, one of my favorite reasons for mayhem.” He paused thoughtfully. “On whom, may I ask?”

You crossed your arms a little guardedly. “I’ve fallen into this whole… running Hell thing,” you said. “It’s more a side effect really. Turns out, someone does actually need to do it. And I have essentially zero interest in most of the job.”

“So, revenge on Crowley? You took over just to piss off Crowley and now you’re stuck with it. Amazing how much administration and bureaucracy is involved in running a realm, isn’t it? Not to mention all the eager underlings,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“It’s simple. I have my own plans and I want to be able to do them when I want, how I want.”

“Sounds like what we all want, doesn’t it?”

“Let me be perfectly clear: you would not set foot outside of Hell. You can do whatever you want regarding… let’s call them, day to day operations. But that’s it.”

He held up his hands, palms out, lips pressed into a tight line. “Hey. Considering my current position, I would still call that a huge upgrade…” He leaned on the bars again. “So, when is my coming out party? Where do I sign?” He was looking you up and down without the slightest effort to hide it, and you felt the hair raise on the back of your neck under his gaze, but you weren’t quite sure exactly why. Was it just the pure power that he radiated? Was it some foreshadowing? You didn’t know, but it did make you uneasy. Still, you plunged recklessly ahead. What exactly did you have to lose?

“I have some things to prepare first,” you said vaguely.

“Oh, preparations? Party decorations? I’d like black streamers and Devil’s Food cake,” he quipped. You shot him a blank look which only elicited a shrug. “I get it. Enough with the questions. I just find you so… interesting. I’ve been sitting down here, rotting in obscurity and boredom and suddenly a brand new Knight of Hell shows up at the Devil’s cage wanting revenge on Crowley and some sort of, let’s say partnership. I’m not supposed to ask questions?”

“You can ask questions. Just don’t expect an answer.”

A wide smile broke out on his lips and he pulled the bottom one in between his teeth again. “Are you flirting with me? Because it’s working.”

You felt another prickle run up your spine and gulped at the nervous tightness in your throat which you were trying so hard to hide. “Just… sit tight. I’ll be back.”

“Like I have any other choice!” he said with a smile. “You’re just trying to play hard to get, trying to keep me titillated!” he called after you.

You stepped away back, breaking the gaze between you and him, and flicked a hand and the holy fire sprang up around the cage again. You could feel Lucifer’s eyes on you the whole way to the door, even though your back was to him. It was with some sense of relief that you finally closed it behind you. This was insane. What the hell were you doing? Did you seriously think you could pull this off? The alternative was to keep going the way you were—annoyed, frustrated, angry—you hadn’t asked for any of this. Crowley had turned you. So, whatever happened, ultimately, it was on him… Right? And Dean—just the thought of him sent you reeling with anger, frustration, and… shit. How was it that Dean was somehow still eliciting this whirlwind of emotions? You’d had enough. You wanted control again, so you were taking it.

There was a small gaggle of demons waiting just outside the door looking amazed and scared and you turned to the one in front. “Did you get them?”

He gulped and looked a little sheepish. “We—we still have to find a couple more.”

Your jaw tensed. “Well, do it. Now.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

Sam gritted his teeth when he stepped into the kitchen early in the morning to see Dean sitting at the island with a mug, apparently at his ease.

“Sammy,” he said, raising his mug slightly. “Little brother… How’d you sleep?”

Sam let out an irritated scoff. “How did I sleep? How’d I—you want to know how I slept? I didn’t. I didn’t sleep. Because the King of Hell is in one room, and a Knight of Hell was wandering the bunker. So, I didn’t sleep.”

One corner of Dean’s mouth flicked upward. “You really need to learn to relax…”

Sam grabbed the empty carafe off the coffee pot and gestured vaguely. “I thought you made coffee,” he said.

“What do I look like, a barista?” Dean’s gruff voice answered.

Sam glared at him. “You’ve got a mug.”

Dean looked down into it and back up at Sam. “This is whiskey.”

Sam rubbed a hand over his face. “Whiskey. It’s 6 am.”

“I run on demon time now, Sam,” he said, sipping carelessly at his drink. “It’s where I do whatever I want, whenever I want.”

Sam’s eyebrows lifted. “Really?”

“Yeah. Really.”

“So, you’re telling me of all the possible things you could be doing, running on ‘demon time,’ this is what you want? Sitting in the bunker with me, Cas, and Crowley.” Dean didn’t say anything, just held his brother’s eyes with a blank expression on his face. “For some reason I find that a little hard to believe,” Sam said skeptically, turning to fill the carafe with water and put some actual coffee on.

“Do you have some sort of point you’d like to make? Something you want to say to me?” There was a dangerous growl in his voice now.

Sam sighed heavily and turned around to face him again. “I’m sick of this ‘I don’t give a shit’ act, Dean! You showed up here because of Y/N, so some part of you, no matter how small or how far down you’ve shoved it, actually cares about something. And yet you won’t even tell us what happened when you saw her! Make up your mind—you can’t have it both ways! You either want to figure out how to get Y/N back or you don’t. …But I don’t know. Maybe you really don’t care. Maybe you don’t care if Y/N ends up dead or—”

Dean was on him so fast that before Sam even realized it he was up against the wall with Dean’s hand on his throat and the glass carafe was shattered on the floor. The puddle of water was slowly expanding, weaving its way around the shards of glass, making them look even more like jagged ice crystals floating in a shallow sea. Dean’s breath was hot on Sam’s face. “Don’t you ever say that about Y/N again. You have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.” With some effort, his hand shaking as he drew back, he released Sam. His eyes were filled with a savage light that Sam had never seen before and for a moment he was reminded of the power and anger this version of Dean was capable of wielding. Dean gave him one final glare and stormed from the room.

Sam heaved a frustrated sigh and reached up to rub at his throat. Gulping down the sudden wave of fear, he grabbed a broom, starting to sweep up the shards of broken glass into a pile. Cas breezed in.

His face immediately darkened as he took in the mess on the floor and Sam bending to pick up a few particularly large pieces of debris. “I heard something. What happened?”

Sam sighed and tossed the pieces forcefully into the trash before running a hand through his hair to push it out of his face. He gestured vaguely at the mess. “Dean. Dean happened…”

Cas swallowed at the uncomfortable tightness in his throat and gave him a questioning look. “What do you mean?”

Sam sank heavily onto a nearby stool. “I don’t know. Nothing. It’s probably my fault… I was—challenging him.”

Cas’s brow sank even lower over his blue eyes. “Sam—don’t do that. I know it’s hard to reconcile but he’s not entirely the brother you knew… He’s not the same.”

Sam let out a dry scoff. “Yeah. Tell me about it…” He sighed again, deep in thought now. “There’s something though…”

Cas nodded. “With Dean. About Y/N.”

Sam’s eyes shot up to meet Cas’s. “Yes. Exactly. He threatened us about messing with him, warned us about messing with Y/N, and then he just freely shows up here all of a sudden? And then just now… I said something about Y/N and that just set him off. It was like a switch flipped.”

Cas continued. “I’ve noticed it too. If the old Dean, some part of him, wasn’t still in there with this Knight of Hell, he wouldn’t give a damn that Crowley turned Y/N. He wouldn’t care about anything. He wouldn’t be here. Or he would have killed all of us by now...”

Sam nodded. “And yet he called us. He showed up here. He’s furious with Crowley...” He gave Cas a knowing look and the angel nodded.

“We need to know what happened between the two of them. It might explain why Y/N suddenly went barreling into Hell,” Cas mused. “I don’t believe it was only to punish Crowley.” The look in the angel’s eyes grew faraway as he sunk further into thought. “We need Dean to talk to us.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Sam scoffed. “He’s obviously being tight-lipped about it on purpose. There’s something he doesn’t want us to know, for whatever reason.” Sam stood up and resumed his kitchen clean-up. “And no one is going to force it out of him.”

“I just can’t shake the feeling that somehow Y/N is going to be his way back from all of this…” Cas said. Sam gave him a thoughtful looking, his brow wrinkled with worry.

“Then we better try our best to find out what really happened when they last saw each other.”

Cas went in search of Dean and after checking the usual common areas he headed deeper into the bunker, peeking into every open door. He was expecting to find him in his old room but was surprised to see it empty and undisturbed. Just next door, however, was your room, and Cas found Dean inside, standing over your desk.

He cautiously stepped across the threshold and waited patiently for Dean to speak, not entirely sure that he even would.

Dean was studying the books, notebooks, and stray paper spread out all over your desk. He paged through it gently, almost tentatively, with slow, intentioned movements. “All this—all of it… it’s about me. I mean, about Knights of Hell and demons… Every single note, every marked page.” His deep voice was absent its usual gruffness, and Cas noted that this wasn’t the first time he had seen Dean, the Knight of Hell, soften when thinking of you.

Cas swallowed a little nervously. “She wanted to get you back. We all did. But she was the one who refused to give up. Even when I stepped away. Even when Sam couldn’t go on.”

Something changed suddenly and Dean let out a wry laugh. “Waste of time,” he said, dropping the paper in his hand and withdrawing suddenly from the stacks of notes like he had been burned.

Cas’s brow contracted. “Is it?” he asked, meeting Dean’s eyes.

“Well, a lot of good it did her. Clearly, I’m still a Knight of Hell. And on top of that, it seems she is too. There is one thing I do know,” Dean said a little quietly, “Y/N doesn’t belong in this world. A frickin’ Knight of Hell,” he said, shaking his head.

“She would say you don’t either,” Cas asserted.

“That’s not the same.” Dean licked his lips thoughtfully and stared back at the angel for a long moment.

“Let me ask you something,” the angel started cautiously. He hoped if he could just keep Dean talking about you, perhaps he would explain what had occurred when you saw each other. “Why the hunting? The monsters? The humans?” Cas asked him. “I mean the demon underlings make sense. Might as well be an annoying fly under a newspaper but… why is going after the human criminals?”

Dean’s mouth lifted on one side and he crossed his arms over his chest. “You know, at first I thought she was just experimenting, trying out her new form and they were convenient targets. But I think it’s more than that.”

“What do you mean?”

The deep bass of Dean’s voice was now touched with gravel again and he paced over to sit on the edge of your bed, glancing at the novel and trinkets on your bedside table, now dull with a layer of dust in your absence. “Think about it. If she just wanted to learn new tricks she didn’t need to hunt down bad guys and monsters. She could have smoked the first thing she came across. But even now she has a conscience or something like it. She isn’t just killing just to kill. She’s clinging to some purpose, however self-manufactured it is,” he said, getting up from your bed and dusting off his hands. “She’s just trying to feel something…” Dean trailed off here and Cas watched as a cloudy veil came over his eyes.

“You saw her?” Cas asked, already knowing that he had, but hoping Dean would reveal more.

“Oh, yeah, I saw her. She threw me into a wall,” he said with a smirk. Cas’s expression darkened.

“Why?”

“Because she could,” Dean said. “But after that I made a point of getting in her way,” he said, stretching his arms out in front of him.

Cas shook his head, not completely understanding, but he felt like he was getting close to something. “What do you mean?”

“I got in the way of her hunts. She didn’t like that.”

“How?” Cas pressed him. For now, Dean seemed content to talk, but the angel continued to press for more details.

“Killing who and what she was going to before she could. She really didn’t like that,” he said, one corner of his mouth flicking upward again. “All I was doing was pushing her buttons, trying to get a response. Payback for what she had been doing to me…” Here he trailed off again and Cas watched a change come over his face.

“What had she been doing?”

Dean’s green eyes flickered up to meet the angel’s and for a moment Castiel felt certain he was about to explain, but the next second the that had passed and he offered only a vague explanation. “There’s some connection between the two of us, probably just a Knight of Hell thing, but… it made it easy for us to get at each other.”

“Hmm.” Cas was pretty sure that it had much less to do with being a Knight of Hell than it did with whatever was between you and Dean.

“I could find her. Somehow, I just knew where she was and where she would be next.”

“Well, where is she now?” Cas asked.

Dean stood up and shrugged, the corners of his mouth turning down. “I don’t know. Based on that voicemail she left, my best guess is that she is actually in Hell, and if so then it seems I can’t reach her there the way I could when she was just running around icing douchebags.” He shrugged again.

“And all that happened between you was a fight?” Cas asked again.

Dean seemed a little caught off guard by the question and it took him a long moment to answer. “Apparently.” And with that he strode out, leaving Cas standing alone in your room with a peculiar feeling that wasn’t true and almost more questions than when he started.

Some years ago

The trip to South Dakota and what had happened between you and Dean while you were locked in Bobby’s panic room left you with a hopeful excitement in your chest. As you rode in the back seat of the Impala, heading back to the bunker, you couldn’t help glancing up at Dean behind the wheel and you caught him looking over his shoulder at you several times as well. As soon as your eyes met, both of you broke into nervous smiles and you felt your cheeks respond with a warm flush which lingered long after you turned your attention to the waves of grass whizzing by outside.

Finally making it home late that night, Sam immediately muttered sleepy goodnights and headed for bed. This suddenly left you and Dean standing alone in the front room and the atmosphere was thick with expectation. Dean tossed the Impala keys down on the table with a loud rattle and his green eyes caught yours.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, shifting his weight a little nervously, the eye contact between the two of you magnetic. “Sooo…”

You laughed a little anxiously. “So. Alone again,” you said, unconsciously biting your bottom lip.

Goddamn… Dean couldn’t handle that and he tilted his head at you a little as he gave you an almost desperate look, his lips falling partially open as if he was about to say something. Your blush deepened and you were about to ask him something in return when suddenly he was right in front of you, slipping an arm around your lower back and his fingers into your hair and crashing into you, pulling you against him so suddenly, so forcefully that you were unbalanced on your tiptoes. The heat and passion of that kiss was staggering and you sank into it, giving yourself over entirely to the sensations of Dean—the rough stubble on his jaw, his strong arm tight around you, his lips moving effortlessly with yours, hungry and pleading.

Your lips broke apart for a brief moment and Dean studied your face, you doing the same in turn. The green of his eyes was olive in the dim light and there was a flame burning that you felt spreading straight to the center of your chest, heating you up.

“Is this—was that okay?” Dean asked you, suddenly a little unsure, a little worried he wasn’t reading the moment right. He had told himself for so long that wanting you was pointless, because it was impossible you wanted him back in the same way. He didn’t deserve you. So, the idea that this was happening at all was surreal and he was terrified of screwing it up.

“More than okay,” you replied. Your voice was breathy, like you’d just run a marathon. “Dean—”

His lips met yours again before you could even get the rest of your thought out and the next second it was gone as you were surrounded by, enveloped in Dean again.

You broke apart with no small amount of effort, your arms around his neck, and gave him a shy smile.

His eyes were questioning as he studied your expression.

You slipped your fingers in between his and gave him a warm look, starting to tug him in the direction of your room.

Dean’s heart pounded. He wanted this so badly. There wasn’t a single other thought in his mind. All he could think about was the feeling of you beneath his fingers, the taste of you, the intoxicating scent of your hair… He followed you down the hallway toward your room, but when you both were rounding the last corner there was a familiar rustling noise behind him and he spun to see Cas standing there with a grave expression on his face. His fingers slipped from between yours and you stood beside him, your heart sinking from stratospheric heights to the lowest depths at the shadow that was on the angel’s face.

“We have a big problem,” Cas said. And just like that, it was like you were yanked out of the perfect dream into a nightmare.

#demon!dean #deamon #dean x reader #demon!dean x reader #reader insert #supernatural #spn fics #fanfiction

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ushijimaenthusiast · 3 years

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a smol iwasemi for iwas bday! semi pretends iwa is his bc to make another dude back off but it fails

[ao3]

Hajime considers himself a patient man.

He’s been best friends with Oikawa since they were kids, so he’s used to his flamboyant, eccentric, egotistical personality getting them into all sorts of shit whenever they’re together, but lately, it seems as though something is throwing Oikawa out of whack, and it’s driving Hajime crazy.

Like tonight: instead of serving Hajime the beer he asked for five minutes ago, Oikawa is standing a foot away from a couple further down the bar pretending to polish a glass as he eavesdrops on the sleazy guy spew disgusting pick-up lines on the clearly uninterested girl. He knows Oikawa is paying attention because he’s seen some horrible things happen while working behind the counter, but Hajime can plainly tell that the woman would be able to handle herself no matter what happened. Even Hajime wouldn’t approach her unless prompted.

Normally Hajime wouldn’t mind Oikawa being so observant of something that has the potential to be dangerous; he’d commend his friend instead of criticizing him. But tonight was supposed to be about him.

It’s his birthday! He was supposed to have a fun night out with his best friend while the two did something exciting and chaotic and stupid, not spend the night on his usual barstool watching as his best friend works.

Hajime knows he’s fine with Oikawa working this evening. He’s fine with them not having a weekend off together for the foreseeable future and he’s even fine with the fact that he’s once again at this stupid bar nursing a drink as a single topic of conversation is dragged out over twenty minutes because Oikawa keeps getting pulled away to serve other customers.

It’s fine.

Hajime also knows he’s allowed to be a little bitter over it all, and he’s fine with that, too.

After another handful of minutes have passed and Oikawa still hasn’t moved from his spot despite the woman leaving, Hajime decides to throw caution to the wind and reach over the counter to grab the closest thing he can. He’s not scared about repercussions since Oikawa’s brother is the owner and likes him more than he likes Oikawa.

Just as he stands and plants his chest against the counter to see what he can find, something bumps into him and has the edge digging sharply into his stomach, followed by something wet landing on his shoulder.

“Hey!” he coughs out, pushing off from the counter and spinning around to chew out whoever bumped into him, only to have the words die in his throat.

Hajime’s been around Oikawa too long to really ever be interested in pretty guys, but the man pressed up against him throws everything out the window. From his dip-dyed ashy blond hair curling softly around his ears, his narrowed eyes darkened with smeared eyeliner, his sneering lips glinting with something silver. Hajime is captivated by the expression that’s not directed at him, and it takes a moment for what’s happening to catch up with him.

There’s another man standing next to them, taller and bigger than Hajime and it has him leaning away, wondering what the hell is going on. He’s scowling and wiping liquid off his face, probably the remnants from the glass in Pretty Boy’s hand.

“And I told you it was none of your business! It doesn't matter what’s in my pants, no still means no you dipshit.”

God, even his voice is pretty. Hajime feels himself start to smile a little, wanting to hear more of it despite the hostility, but is forced back when the intruder leans in and Pretty Boy pushes him further into the counter.

He starts to open his mouth, but Pretty Boy interrupts, “If you don’t back off I’ll have my boyfriend kick the shit out of you.”

Hajime’s sure his eyebrows meet his hairline. And then disappear completely when Pretty Boy wraps his arm around Hajime’s waist.

The intruder stares Hajime up and down, sizing him up and thinking if he’d win a fight, but all Hajime can focus on is the warmth now pressed all against his left side, wondering if he should return the gesture and play along or politely back off, not wanting to get in the middle of this feud.

The longer he’s silent, the more the arm around him tightens and the more the intruder starts to sneer and puff out his chest, shoulders squaring back and head tilting him. Hajime suddenly doesn’t remember how to block a punch.

“If you throw one punch at my best friend I’ll shove this bottle so far up your ass they’ll have to break your rib cage to dig it out.”

They all turn to stare at Oikawa who’s brandishing a still-full bottle of Smirnoff as he glares at the intruder, his lips twisted up into a dangerous smirk. It’s a look Hajime has seen too many times to count and knows what’s about to happen.

He spins out of Pretty Boy’s arms and leans across the counter to whisper-shout at Oikawa. “If you get into another fight you’re gonna get fired, brother or not.”

Oikawa doesn’t take his eyes off the intruder, nor does he keep his voice low. “You underestimate my persuasion skills over my brother. Now, Mr. Neanderthal,” he directs at the intruder, “this isn’t the first time I’ve seen you push yourself onto nice people, so I’m only gonna ask you once. Leave my bar, or I’ll kick your ass.”

One glance over his shoulder at the intruder and Hajime knows what’s going to happen next. He knows his best friend enough that he will literally follow up with his threat, and Hajime has a second to decide if he needs to continue to intervene or just steer Pretty Boy out of harm’s way until everything’s over.

What Hajime did not expect was to end up in urgent care, the blond sitting next to him with one hand rubbing circles on his back and the other holding Hajime’s.

The cab ride had been a little blurry, Hajime more focused on the blood seeping from his scalp and the hands pushing him out the bar than what was really going on, Oikawa’s laughter trailing after them like a maniacal echo.

Pretty Boy took charge and Hajime let him, not paying much attention to anything except the tone of the man’s voice.

By the time they get to the urgent care, Hajime’s head is killing him and it seems as if the blood has slowed down, if it was even that bad to begin with. Pretty Boy does most of the paperwork, even going so far as to dig out Hajime’s wallet and search for an insurance card. Hajime keeps a close eye on him then, but Pretty Boy doesn’t even try to touch his cash or credit cards.

He sits with Hajime through the hour-long wait and through the twenty-minute doctor visit, detailing the events leading up to the visit as the doctor pulls shards of glass from Hajime’s scalp. He doesn’t need stitches, which is great, and he doesn’t have a concussion, which is even better. The news has Pretty Boy sighing in relief, throwing Hajime a beautiful tiny smile.

Hajime expects them to part ways after the exam, but Pretty Boy directs him to the nearest diner, and it’s not until they’re collapsing into a booth that Hajime realizes he’s exhausted, but can admit that it was nice being babied for a while.

He even tells Pretty Boy that, and it earns him a small laugh that has Hajime swooning. He wipes at his eyes, smearing his already smudged eyeliner, but it just adds another level of intrigue to him that has Hajime leaning further over the table as they start to talk.

The man’s name is Semi Eita, and by the time their drinks arrive, Hajime thinks he’s a little bit in love.

“It’s not the first night I’ve seen you there, ya know,” Semi says after the waiter brings their meals. He grabs a fry and points it at Hajime before plopping it into his mouth. Hajime’s eyes track the movement, catching another glint of silver on Semi’s tongue that’s quickly hidden behind pink lips. He almost can’t take his eyes off Semi’s lips, following the curve of the cupid’s bow and trailing along the edge until he’s met with the spiral piercing curving at the bottom corner of his mouth. It’s captivating, and Hajime finds it hard to focus whenever it moves.

A fry hits him in the face, startling Hajime back into his seat. Semi gives him a curious look before his lips stretch in a grin that he tries to duck and hide.

His earlier words catch up with Hajime. “Why haven’t you approached me before then?”

Semi shrugs, not meeting Hajime’s eyes. He plops another fry into his mouth and takes a moment to answer. “I kind of thought you were with that bartender since I see you talkin’ with him all the time. Or you were straight since I’ve only seen you with girls hanging off your arm.”

Hajime snorts at that, quickly shaking the image of him and Oikawa out of his head. “I might swing for the right girl, but uh, I’m pretty gay. A lot of them pull a stunt like you did tonight, and I go with it because there are some sleazy assholes out there. And Oikawa’s my best friend. He’s more like an annoying brother I wish I could auction off for all the trouble he’s caused me.”

Semi winces at the jab, but Hajime continues, smiling. “He couldn’t get the night off, so I figured it’d be better to spend my birthday at the bar instead of home alone, even though he still ignored me all night because he was working.” Hajime rubs at his eyes, suddenly realizing how pathetic his idea for the evening was.

Semi hisses, and when Hajime peeks through his fingers at the other man, he catches a look of pity. “And I went and made everything worse for you.”

Hajime shakes his head, lowering his hands and offering a hopefully charming smile.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty happy with how my evening is going.”

Semi’s eyes widen, and the very top of his cheeks flush. Hajime finds it absolutely adorable.

“Even though you got into a bar fight because of a total stranger and ended up in urgent care because someone broke a bottle over your skull?”

Hajime laughs, nods.

“I met a really pretty guy who’s interested in me and took care of me. I’m interested in him too, and I’m hoping this night ends with me getting his number and a plan for a second date.”

Hajime watches as Semi's cheeks darken, and the very tip of his nose starts to pinken. Hajime wants to lean over the table and kiss him.

“Well shit,” Semi coughs, obviously flustered. Hajime grins even wider, finally giving in enough to reach out and gently grasp one of Semi’s hands, tangling their fingers together to reassure him. Hajime’s sure that despite the alt look, Semi might be on the softer side.

Hajime can’t wait to get to know Semi Eita, can’t wait to find out a million mundane things about the man who started a fight just so he could get to know Hajime. Maybe it’s a little weird or unorthodox, but it’s also something new and exciting. It’s the beginning of something that Hajime is actually looking forward to, and if the pleased and longing look in Semi’s eyes is anything to go by, it’s safe to say the other man is excited too.

Hajime’s glad he’s a patient man, because he hopes this will take a while.

#haikyuu!!#iwaizumi hajime #semi eita #oikawa tooru #iwasemi #writing #meet cute

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heartofsnark · 4 years

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Black Market Wonderland (Chapter Ten): The Fire It Ignites

Notes: Holo, here’s some Tsuneko for y’all. This chapter is honestly one of my faves so far.

Word Count: 7290

Warnings: POV changes; men being perverts? that's about it.

Missed the last chapter? Link Here!

Another day over, another day closer to the end of the bet. Tomorrow is the auction. Her throat tightens and her stomach churns at the thought. She hasn’t seen Hachirou around since last night and with any luck he won’t be around anymore for a while. Especially, with the auction right around the corner, thoughts of Hachirou taking her place in that cage, nearly makes her puke when she’s making a bed. Her pager buzzes after she drops Anais off at her parent’s suite for lunch.

“Bring Kishi to the auction hall.”

“Huh?”

“Five Minutes.”

His voice cuts out and she pinches the bridge of her nose, of course he didn’t even tell her where Kishi is. Not that it’s a real mystery, he doesn’t exactly move a lot. He’s either up in the penthouse sleeping or smoking outside the hotel. She’s closer to the penthouse, so that’s her first choice. Her face falls the second she reaches the empty penthouse lounge. Literally, any other day he’d be napping on the couch. But, of course, not today.

“Kishi!”

Her voice echoes in the empty room, the only noise before she groans. If she looks out a window and he’s smoking by the dumpsters, she’s spitting on his head. He should know if they need to talk to him about something, he shouldn’t need a recovery team. Following her next guess, other than dumpster smoking, she makes her way to his suite.

The familiar heavy smell of cigarettes hits her when she steps into the room, he’s not sleeping in the living room. Given his penchant for passing out on the couch, she was hoping he’d be there. She has no desire to go into his bedroom, obviously she’s been in there multiple times to clean, without him present. There’s just something odd about being in someone’s bedroom with them, like she’s crossing a boundary. The idea of someone she doesn’t know well in her bedroom makes her prickly, so she figures that must go for everyone.

Tsuneko presses her ear to the bedroom door, she doesn’t expect to hear much through the wood, but there’s a steady snore. He’s sleeping, because of course he is. It’s the middle of the afternoon and he’s got somewhere to be, so, he’s sleeping. He calls her a child but pulls this kind of shit.

“Hey,” she knocks hard enough to shake the door, “get up!”

There’s nothing but the same steady snore when she listens closely. No muffled words, no rustle of movement, she might as well stay quiet for how much good it did. She’s going to kill him, who sleeps that heavily. He never seemed to be that deep of a sleeper when he was passed out in the lounge, he never even snored when he was in there. She pounds her fists against the door again.

“You got until the count of three to get your ass up or else!”

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. She kicks the door in frustration, Ichinomiya sure likes making her do the nearly impossible. Waking Kishi up in five minutes is like trying to nail Jell-O to a tree.

“One! Two! Are you fucking serious? Three!”

She pushes the door open, letting it bang against the wall, hoping any noise might stir him. Kishi is sprawled out in his bed, tangled in half strewn sheets. Without the door filtering it, his snore is like a buzz saw going off in her skull. She’s half tempted to pinch his nose shut, to see if that’d stop it and wake him up. But there’s drool smeared down his chin and she’d rather die than risk touching his slobbers.

“Gross.”

She wrinkles her nose up at the sight of him, she’s never seen him out of his usual rumpled monochrome suits, now he’s in a baggy shirt and sweatpants. That looks stained. She kicks the side of his bed; his snoring cuts off for a moment as he flops around. His shirt rolling up to show his hairy stomach before his chainsaw snoring starts back up.

“Gross.”

There’s something even more weird about standing over him, while he’s sleeping. More reason for him to wake the fuck up. She really doesn’t want to touch him, at all.

“Wake up!” She screams, right near his nasty face. He’s not even almost fazed, this guy could sleep through a hurricane. Tsuneko chews her lip, contemplating what to do.

She’s in the kitchen of his suite within the next moment, yanking open the freezer. Ice buckets come standard with most rooms. Sure enough, the silver bucket is there, still piled high with ice. Kishi doesn’t strike her as a chilling wine sort of guy, so she's not shocked it’s never been used. But it ought to do the trick.

It takes both of her hands to pack it, the cold metal stinging and chilling her skin. She brings it into his room, sure enough; he’s still snoozing away. A grin pulls at her lips before she dumps the ice bucket onto him.

“Ah, fuck!” Kishi is up like a shot, smacking ice off as he flops off the bed.

“PFFFT,” she sputters and bursts out laughing, holding her stomach as she cracks up.

“What the hell is going on?!” He yells in a sleep leaden voice as he shakes ice out of his shirt.

“Ichinomiya,” she manages through her giggles, “told me to get you.”

“So, ya threw ice on me!?

“You wouldn’t wake up!”

He rubs a hand down his face, he’s shivering and there's a bit of water where the ice has melted against his skin. A groan leaves the back of his throat and he looks at the alarm clock on the bedside table, why does he even have that? That’s like buying a cat tower for a goldfish.

“It’s that damn auction meeting,” he grumbles.

“Yeah, that’s kind of important.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He grabs the back of his shirt and starts to yank it over his head.

“Hey! At least wait until I’m out of the room!”

She flusters to turn her back to him, not wanting to see Kishi without his clothes. It’s bad enough she was forced to endure Oh’s peepshow the first night.

“Pfff, no need to get your panties in a twist, not interested in kids,” he comments just as she starts to the door.

“Good, I’m not interested in seeing your nasty old man body!”

“Hey!” He yells after her as she leaves the room, shutting the bedroom door behind her.

She grimaces, even the idea that she’d want him to be interested in her or whatever he was suggesting is so gross. As far as the men who bought her goes, Kishi isn’t the worst of the bunch, but that’s a low bar. And he’s definitely not someone she’d be interested in.

Ichinomiya seemed to be implying he wants her there as well which makes sense, given she’s being forced to participate in this stupid auction. So, she waits outside the door for Kishi to finish changing, playing on her phone. She’s barely opened an app before he’s leaving the room in a wrinkled suit.

“You still here?”

“I’m pretty sure he wants me there too, besides I don’t trust you not to wander off and go nap somewhere.”

He gives a halfhearted shrug, halfheartedly admitting to his own incompetence. Tsuneko rolls her eyes before following him out of the suite, making a mental note that she’ll have to clean up the melted ice later. She leans against the elevator wall and pulls out her phone again, while Kishi punches in the floor they’re going to.

“I still have fucking water in my hair,” he grumbles and shoots her a glare.

“Then you should have dried it, dumbass.”

“You wanna hear more of Eisuke’s bitching about us being late?” Kishi pulls a cigarette out of his pack and starts to light it.

“What the,” she snatches it from his lips, “you are not smoking in this elevator!”

“Hey, what’s the big deal?!”

“It’s bad enough I get secondhand smoke just looking at you, you’re not trapping me in a cancer box, too.”

“Don’t boss adults around.”

“Then don’t act like a child.”

“I’m not the kid here.” He pokes his finger at her chubby cheek and she tries to bite him, just barely missing his finger as he pulls it away.

“At least I act like an adult, you look ninety but act like you’re twelve.”

“’Cause trying to bite me was real mature.”

“Shut up!” She kicks him in the shin, why is he such an asshole?!

“Ow, you little brat!”

The elevators comes to it’s stop just as he levels a glare at her, so she rushes out as soon as the doors open, trying not to laugh. It’s childish, stupid, and does nothing to convince anyone she’s a responsible adult, but he deserved that kick.

Ichinomiya said the auction hall, she knows where the stage and auction is, but that doesn’t seem like where they’d be meeting. Are they just loitering on the stage? Tsuneko is starting to look around the theater seats when there’s a sharp tug on the neck of her uniform, yanking her backwards.

“Eagh!” She chokes and sputters at the fabric pulled taught around her throat, craning her neck to see Kishi dragging her towards a flight of stairs.

“C’mon, ya fucking brat.”

She tries to cough out a response as she’s dragged by the scruff of the neck, but she can’t manage to. He drags her up a flight of stairs that goes up to balcony seating, where she sees the rest of the auction managers lounging around red velvet furniture. There are royal purple curtains pulled back to view the stage.

“That’s no way to handle a woman, Kishi,” Baba admonishes him with a look of concern as Tsuneko struggles.

“You’re late.”

“She threw ice on me,” Kishi lets her go with a slight shove, “and kicked me.”

“And I tried to bite you,” she adds in as she adjusts her uniform, making her way to the railing of the balcony.

There’s a wonderful view of the stage, she can almost envision how she looked in her cage from here, a chill creeps up her spine. She shakes it off and turns away, pulling herself up to sit on the railing while she listens in on their meeting.

“Wasting everyone’s time as usual.”

“What did you say?” Kishi narrows his eyes at Oh, it seems like they’re always picking a fight with each other.

“You heard me.”

“Knock it off!” Ichinomiya cuts off the bickering before it gets out of hand.

“We’re still waiting on Maddy anyway.”

Kisaki makes a scoff of disgust at the mention of the Hatter and Tsuneko imagines throwing him over the railing, what is his problem? As if on cue, the Mad Hatter makes his way in, bright painted smile stretched across his face.

“Hello, how are you all this lovely day?”

“Worse now that you’re here.”

“There you go with your jokes, again, Mr. Kisaki! Hehe~”

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Maddy, haven’t you Tsuneko?”

Baba moves closer to her perch on the railing as he asks his question, his hand lingering close to her lower back, the heat there but no direct touch. It’s hard to discern if he’s trying to get closer to her ass or is preparing to catch her if she falls off the railing. Or both.

“Yeah.”

She shrugs her shoulders and scoots a little further over, careful to keep her balance. Baba’s eyes widen for a moment, incredulous, as if he can’t believe she would ever be able to stand a day with the Hatter. Imagine if they knew she’s spent a night in Wonderland, in the weirdly already prepared bedroom.

“About the item list,” Ichinomiya redirects everyone’s attention back to the business at hand.

“Ah, yes, I’ve inspected all the pieces for the auction.”

“I got some great pieces this time, didn’t I?” Baba says with a bright smile, pride sparkling in his brown eyes.

“Yes, quite I got goosebumps!”

“Your presentation determines how much they sell for, I’m counting on you.”

“Leave it to me, good sir.”

Tsuneko resists the urge to scoff at Baba being called good sir, while the Hatter bows dramatically with a hand to his chest. Is she going to be expected to act like that in the Alice costume? She doesn’t even want to think about it, everything about that ordeal makes her nauseous. Ichinomiya clears his throat, bringing the focus back on him.

“Of course, Mr. Ichinomiya. Item number one is a female mummy clad in traditional dress, she was discovered in the desert during the thirteenth century.”

“Sounds like a regular mummy, nothing rare about that.”

“Ah, but she’s not just a regular mummy, she’s the key to unlocking the mysteries of an ancient Egyptian civilization.”

Ichinomiya bites his lip and gears seem to be turning in his head, before the Hatter continues.

“She was poisoned to death after learning secrets about the royal family.”

“Fine, put it in the lineup,” Ichinomiya agrees, showing the first modicum of compromise since she’s met him.

“Wait,” her head shoots up and Baba presses a hand to her back to keep her from falling, “you haven’t even finalized the item list?!”

Ichinomiya's eyes land on her, sharp and cold, almost daring her to keep interrupting.

“Why the hell did Oh give me three thousand pages to memorize if some of the items might not even be sold!? Now, I have useless garbage in my head!”

“You should be used to that.” A smirk tugs at the corner of Oh’s lips, he was fucking with her!

“I swear to god, you son of a, ahh-” she starts to try to climb off the railing, but Baba has a hold of the back of her uniform, so she swings her leg out instead, “you’re lucky my legs are too short to kick your ass from here!”

Kishi and Kisaki are cackling, pissing her off even more. Baba is just trying to keep her from flailing off the balcony. Ichinomiya is smirking and the Hatter seems to be a second away from laughing himself, she’s not entertainment for these assholes.

“I’m terrified.” Oh rolls his eyes, not even bothering to look at her.

“I’m gonna put my foot up your ass, you fuck-”

“Enough.”

Ichinomiya stops the second fight of the meeting and Tsuneko bites down harsh on her lip as anger settles in her stomach. On the bright side, her anxiety over the auction and stage has been burned away by rage.

“Continue,” he prompts the Hatter.

“Ah yes, item number two is hair, footprints, and scale impressions of an undiscovered mythical creature.”

“There’s not anyone dumb enough to buy that, is there?” The moment the first word leaves her mouth, Ichinomiya is glaring at her.

“Actually, I’ve heard is that the leader of the Jade Thorns was interested.” Oh almost seems ashamed that someone from his world would want bigfoot ‘evidence.’

“It’s a very large creature, as it’s footprints measure twenty-two by five inches. It’s body length is nearly ten feet and the hair sample is six and a half feet long.”

“So, there’s a bigfoot hunting mobster out there?”

“He’d pay high dollar for it, it stays.”

Tsuneko shakes her head, they’re selling some mobster fake footprints and nasty long hair. It’s ridiculous, but if he’s dumb enough to buy it then there’s no cure for being a sucker. The Hatter continues prattling off each item and it’s details, letting Ichinomiya keep or veto each one mentioned. Sometimes the Hatter makes a case for them, usually ending with Ichinomiya agreeing, and other times he agrees with the rejection. By the end of the excruciatingly long list, there’s only a few items decided not to be kept. So, it probably wasn’t a complete waste to memorize the entire list.

“I’d like to start the auction with the painting ‘The Weaver’, you appraised it?” Ichinomiya eyes flicker towards Kisaki.

“Yeah it’s real, Baba managed not to grab any fakes this time.”

“That’s only happened a few times and, in my defense, they were really well done.”

“You’re going senile.”

“I’d like to then follow that with the Duchess’ Bracelet.”

“Yes…but what did you think of introducing the ‘Box of Five-Hundred Pearls’ in between those items? Like a sorbet to cleanse the palate between courses.”

Tsuneko is too poor to even begin to understand what that’s supposed to mean, but the slight nod of Ichinomiya’s head tells her it’s good.

“Not a bad idea.”

“Let’s move on to the second half of the auction.”

“Why don’t we change the theme entirely?”

“So, the mermaid and mummy, then?”

“Yes! No one will be predicting those two items, I’m sure the audience will be delighted. Also, I was thinking about the ‘Pharaoh’s Sarcophagus’ for our showcase item. What do you think?”

“Yes, let’s go with that.”

They continue to prattle and hash things out, figuring out the order of items. Tsuneko makes notes on her phone, something else to study later, fantastic.

“What about security?’

“My men didn’t see anything of concern when they were bringing the items in, I’ve made sure all my men’s full attention will be on the auction tomorrow,” Oh tells him.

“What about the police?”

“Just as clueless as they were last time,” Kishi grumbles, “everyone is caught up in some drug bust.”

“Well, if everything is decided then-”

“Wait, Maddy, I was wondering something.” Baba stops him from scurrying off, the Hatter tilts his head.

“What is it?”

“How have things been going with Tsuneko, next to boss you get to spend the most alone time with her.”

“Oh, it’s been going wonderfully, I love spending time with Alice.”

“Though, I did get to see her fresh out of the shower.”

“I’m gonna gut you.”

Tsuneko shoots a glare at the winking Baba then she notices the way the Hatter’s expression has deflated and frozen. What’s wrong? She worries her lip between her teeth, the only reason he’s been going weird around her lately is when he’s been scared about her seeing him under the makeup. He was just getting out of the shower that night.

“Haha…” A forced chuckle makes its way out of the Hatter’s throat, tension floods the room, pulled tight from the out of character behavior.

“You okay, Maddy?”

“Hahaha…”

“Huh, did we break the Hatter?”

“Hahahaha…”

Tsuneko pushes herself off the railing, Baba finally letting her, she can’t just watch him freak out. She could never bring herself to hit him, probably, so instead she snaps her fingers beside his ear. His eyes go wide and he jolts, eyes then darting around the room as he realizes the tension in the room.

“Ah! Uh….I need to go prepare.”

Then he’s gone, leaving a pit in Tsuneko’s stomach. Even with the Craigslist fiasco happening, things are still awkward, he’s so scared of her even mentioning she’s seen his real face or his friend as he claimed.

“I’m gonna head back to work.”

She darts off before any of the auction managers can bother her about whatever inane bullshit they’d make up. Tsuneko returns to her work, but she finds herself constantly checking the time, dreading every minute that passes. She tries to stay engaged with her conversations with Anais, but the time feels like it’s creeping up on her.

Tomorrow is the auction; she’ll have to be on that stage again. She hates it. Absolutely hates it. She drops Anais off a little earlier than necessary, not wanting the young girl to worry about the way the color keeps draining from Tsuneko’s face. Every thought of stepping onto that stage feels like she’s pushed right back into that cage. She finishes her shift by cleaning up the penthouse, thanking whatever gods may be listening that none of them are there to see the way her hands are shaking.

Her shift is over, the day nearing its end. She’s changed out of her uniform and is fiddling with the good luck talisman as she takes slow deliberate steps towards the auction hall. She has to push past this. If not, she’s going to have a full-scale meltdown in front of hundreds of people which is not an option.

She reaches the door that leads backstage, all she has to do is open the door and step through. Her fingers twitch and clench around the charm, yep, just has to open the door. She runs a hand through her hair, untangling a knot her fingers catch on. Just has to open the door…She kicks the door, like that will help.

“Shit!” A voice calls out from behind the door and she hears a rustling sound, what the fuck?

Tsuneko pushes open the door with a slam and rushes out onto into the backstage, seeing a glimmer of someone running out to the main stage. She runs after them, just catching them fumbling to jump off the stage. Her blood goes cold. Sprawled between the rows of velvet chairs, just a short distance from the stage is Hachirou, the familiar head of messy auburn hair and green gold eyes. He freezes looking up at her.

“What the hell are you doing?” She marches across the stage and hops down from it, landing herself in front of him.

“I was….uh, just…” He struggles to answer as he climbs to his feet.

“Why the hell are you even here?”

“I was just looking around… What is this place for?”

“None of your business.”

The double doors that the audiences use start to push open and Tsuneko tackles Hachirou to the ground between two rows of chairs, hiding them from immediate view. Oh’s men are providing security with the I.V.C and the auction, she figured they’d be patrolling the floors around the hall and storage where the items are. She has an actual reason to be here, Hachirou does not.

Tsuneko presses a hand tight over his mouth, not letting another noise escape his mouth. Her body is over top of his, her weight on him, their noses practically touching. His body is lean and thin under her, she wonders if she should shift, fearful she might be crushing his small frame.

“Is anything in there?” A rough voice echoes through the auditorium.

“Not that I see, but I definitely heard something.”

Footsteps click down the aisles, growing louder and louder, closer and closer.

“Eh, it’s a big room, when there’s no auction going on every little sound echoes.”

“You’re probably right, I don’t see anything.”

The footsteps halt then slowly fade as the men agree to leave the room be. She hears the doors shut again and counts to three before climbing off of Hachirou and pulling him up to his feet, there’s a faint flush to his cheeks.

“C’mon we gotta go, dumbass.”

She grabs a hold of his shirt sleeve and drags him from the auditorium. Her eyes dart back and forth as they cut a path to the back exit, speeding up every time she there’s a sign of one of Oh’s men. An echo of steps, the muttering of voices, every little thing sends her reeling. If they catch him, he could get seriously hurt, especially so close to the auction. They bought her and she made the bet, which created some sort of buffer in the end. But, Oh was going to kill her before that. She runs faster, she needs to get him out of here.

Mamoru lets out a puff of smoke from his cigarette, gray fumes fading into the night air. There’s the familiar little headrush and the taste of nicotine heavy on his tongue as he relaxes against the Tres Spades, the grimy dumpsters just a few feet away as he enjoys the quiet.

The back doors swing open suddenly, nearly smashing into him, before he sees two people rush out. One familiar and one new. There’s some red-haired guy he's never seen before and the maid Eisuke has the bet with, Tsuki…Tsuru…something…They’re both panting, and their faces are flushed red like they’ve run a marathon, her hand is pulling at the guy’s sleeve.

“What the hell were you thinking!?” She spins around to screech at the boy, she’s always yelling about something and being a pain in the ass.

“I was curious!” He tries to defend himself, why the hell was he in the hotel?

“That’s not a fucking excuse, do you have any idea how much trouble you could have gotten into?! If it,” she’s gesturing wildly and she seems to finally notice Mamoru is there, “are you fucking kidding me?! Of course, of fucking course you’re here right now, fucking hell!”

As usual, she doesn’t even have the decency to pretend she’s happy to see anyone. He heaves a sigh; he doesn’t want to be bothered with whatever this is. It’s bad enough one annoying kid has been dragged into his life, but if this new one is poking around the auctions and if something goes sideways, it’s just going to be a bigger headache

“What’s goin’ on?” He slurs his question out around a cigarette.

“Oh, uh, I-” The scrawny boy stutters and fumbles over what to say.

“Officer Kishi,” she emphasizes his title with a stern voice, “would you mind telling him how his ass can be thrown in jail for trespassing if he were caught sneaking around the hotel basement?”

The guy’s face goes stark white at the realization that technically Mamoru is a cop, but as long as it doesn’t bite him in the ass too hard, he can’t say he really cares.

“Ain’t got nothing to do with me.” He shrugs, taking another inhale of smoke and the maid’s face goes bright red. There’s practically a vein throbbing in her forehead.

“Are you fucking kidding me?! Would it have killed you to help me for five fucking seconds?!”

“Look, I’m sorry okay, I just-” A loud growling and gurgling noise comes from the boy’s stomach and his face flushes red again. The pair of them are really just kids.

Tension drains from the maid’s face, a sputter of a laugh and a soft smile pulling at her lips. Her smiles are few and far between, it’s not bad seeing them. She ought to relax more, kids should be happy…not that it’s any of his business.

“You hungry?” She asks, that smile directed at the stranger. He can’t think of a time that it’s ever been directed at him or any of the other auction managers.

“Uh, I mean, I’ve only really ate some instant ramen for the past, um, week.” He scratches the back of his head, face flushed.

“Christ,” she rubs a hand down her face, and he can already see the gears turning in her head, there’s nowhere open or that delivers at this hour, “is that why you’re rail thin? C’mon, dumbass, I’ll at least let you eat while I lecture you.”

She starts to pull the guy towards the employee dorms, she’s not seriously going to let this man into her apartment, is she? Even if he’s a runt, he’s still a guy and one she doesn’t know well. Naïve can’t even begin to describe it, all he can liken it to is a toddler shoving their hand on a burning stove, everyone else able to see the potential danger but they don’t get it.

“Y’know if you feed strays they’ll just keep comin’ back.”

“Haha, you’re hilarious.”

She rolls her eyes and the pair continue on their way, Mamoru’s following after them, feet moving before he knows it. They’ve reached the door before she realizes he’s tagging along, she narrows her eyes at him, no hint of the smile from earlier.

“Where the hell are you going?”

“You gonna invite him over in front of me and not invite me too? That’s kinda rude, don’t you think?”

“You’re not starving, piss off.”

She rolls her eyes and continues pulling the boy into the dorm, he follows them anyway. If something happens to her, it’s just going to be a bigger pain later. For whatever reason, Eisuke’s taken a shine to her and there’ll be hell to pay if she gets hurt. Besides, he’s not turning down a free meal. They reach her door and she lets the younger guy in before shooting Mamoru a dirty look.

“You really gonna tell me to buzz off?” She groans and rolls her eyes.

“Hurry up, before people think a homeless guy broke in.”

Stepping into her dorm, he regrets bothering with this, it’s no place for a man. He immediately catches soft fresh smells, like flowers or something soft and girly. Everything in the place seems to be white, pastel, or has some cartoon character on it making him feel gross and dirty in comparison. Like if he breathes the wrong way, he might stain something.

The dorms aren’t tiny, but they aren’t huge either. Bigger than Mamoru’s own cheap rinky dink apartment. She shuts the door behind him, her eyes dart for a minute past the partial wall that provides some separation between her bedroom and the rest of the dorm, despite the studio apartment layout. He can just see part of a dresser. Maybe, she’s weird about people being in her bedroom, the kid is strange.

“You can only get to the bathroom through my bedroom, so you better not have to go at any point,” she grumbles before rummaging through her fridge and pantry, “I have the stuff to make ginger pork, so that better be okay.”

Mamoru plops himself in one of the pink wooden chairs at a little glass table she has near the kitchenette, a pale imitation of a dining room. The young guy is trying to look unbothered, staring off into space, but his leg is bouncing anxiously. She’s thrown on an apron as she starts to prepare food, something about it makes her seem even softer, like a housewife.

“Sounds fine to me,” the younger man mutters.

“Don’t think me cooking, gets you off the hook, Hachirou. We need to have a serious talk.”

“What are you his mom?”

“You don’t even need to be here, old man.”

“She really does act like a nagging mom, doesn’t she?” Hachirou snickers along with Mamoru.

“Do you two really wanna piss me off when I have a knife!?” She yells over her shoulder, the steady sound of her knife hitting a cutting board fills the gaps between her words.

“Look, I’m sorry okay-”

“Sorry, did you even think? Not only could you have gotten yourself locked away, I could have gotten in trouble for helping you!”

“I didn’t ask you to help me.” The chopping stops with that comment, the maid whirling around to face them, brows furrowed and eye twitching. Mamoru can’t help snickering, as long as it’s not directed at him, her short fuse is pretty funny.

“And what if I didn’t, huh? What do you think would have happened?” She walks closer, eyes harsh.

“I don’t know-”

“You would have been caught by security and you, me, and the guy in the basement would have been screwed.”

Eisuke mentioned something about the Hatter inviting strangers to his room, for some insane reason or another. That must be how Hachirou got curious about the hotel, creating a headache for everyone.

“I just wanted to know what’s going on, I didn’t hurt anyone,” Hachirou grumbles as the maid takes a seat across from her, obviously talking while she cooks wasn’t having the desired impact.

“Look, you know there are a lot of rich people at the Tres Spades, right,” she waits for a small nod, “well sometimes, rich people are fucking weird. The Hatter is really nice, but he’s strange okay. He has the money to do whatever little whim pops into his head, so he does. But, sometimes those things are stupid and dangerous, like inviting randos from the internet over. I already told the owner that everything was taken care of with it, so if it turns out that someone is sneaking around it’s going to come back on me and the Hatter, do you get that?”

“I…guess…”

“Even if you don’t care about your own wellbeing, at least worry about others, alright?”

She puts a hand on Hachirou’s shoulder, and the guy finally gives a small nod, looking like a dog that’s just been scolded. Content she finds her way back over the makeshift kitchen and starts cooking again. The smell of ginger pork starts to spread through the dorm and Mamoru can feel his stomach growling.

He’s not a picky eater, not by any right, but home cooked traditional Japanese food is always better than the professional made stuff they serve at the hotel. The smell alone is enough to make him drool and think of days when his mom would cook the same dish, making the unfamiliar apartment feel cozier in a sense. He finds his eyes continuously drawn to the maid, Tsu…whatever.

Everything about her has screamed child to him, since he first saw her, she’s nothing short of a brat with the way she pouts, throws tantrums, and never seems to shut up. A kid in almost every single way he can think of, but right now… Mamoru isn’t blind, if it wasn’t for her personality, she’d be real cute. And right now, as she works over the stove, apron tied around her, with her hair in a messy ponytail, and her soft features screwed up in concentration…that brattiness doesn’t shine through quite as much.

She shuts off the shove and plates the food, untying her apron and putting it aside before she brings the food to the table to hand over to him and Hachirou then sits down herself.

“If anyone has any complaints, they know where the door is,” she tells them, her personality once again killing any attraction he might have had to her, not that he had any.

Then maybe the little sparks of attraction, that definitely isn’t there, ignites again when he tastes her cooking. It may be something simple but it reminds him so much of home, almost exactly how his mom would make the dish. Mamoru wouldn’t consider himself sentimental, he’s a grown man. But, it’s hard to deny the warm feeling when her food reminds him of home and better times. He’s not ashamed of the way he devours it, so good. Tsu-something would probably make a good wife, if she ever finds someone willing to put up with her attitude.

“Do either of you plan on breathing?” She asks, covering her mouth and stifling a laugh, he looks over to see Hachirou scarfing down the meal in the same way. She’s smiling again, her eyes on the runt.

“It’s a compliment,” Mamoru tells her through a mouthful and her eyes land on him, nearly making him choke.

“Appreciate it.”

She’s smiling at him for the very first time. That bright smile that crinkles her eyes and shows that little dimple in her cheek and he’s suddenly grateful she’s never smiled at him before. It’s too much, his face is warm like the sun’s shining on him and he can’t keep looking at her. In his panic to look elsewhere, his eyes drift below her neck.

The way she’s sitting, elbows on the table and leaning forward, her cleavage is on display. Not a bad place to look instead. Again, while she is a brat and a kid, she’s one with a pretty smile and a nice pair of tits. The latter of which has been the topic of a few conversations in the penthouse, guy talk that would no doubt earn each of them her wrath. She’s curvy, chubby, with a full chest that constantly seems to be on the verge of spilling out of her top when she bends over. A little freckle on her cleavage is half covered by her shirt and he wonders how many she has, then a piece of broccoli hits his cheek with a splat.

He tears his gaze away from her chest to see that megawatt smile replaced with gritted teeth and furrowed eyebrows, her cheeks flushed red with anger. Now that’s a face he’s used to her making at him. Her chopsticks are poised to throw more food at him.

“Can you not be gross for like five seconds?!” She yells at him, voice shrill with her anger. If she just lost the ability to talk, she really would be decent wife material.

“I didn’t do anything,” he says, knowing full well what he was just caught doing.

“Yeah right, you dirty old man, do me a favor and keep your eyes on your food!”

“I’m done,” he says, showing off his empty plate, maybe he can con her into giving him more.

“Then leave!”

“There’s not any left?”

“Not for you!”

Mamoru tries not to grumble or pout, he’s a grown man, he doesn’t pout. But, when Hachirou finishes his plate and she gives him the rest of her own, well, it’s just rude. Finally, he finishes the last of the food and Mamoru is entirely too grown up to glare at some kid for eating the rest of the food, he would never ever do that, nope. It’s Hachirou who speaks up once he’s done eating.

“Uh, I guess I should getting out of your hair.”

“Are there still trains running to your dorm at this time?”

She’s not going to offer for the guy to stay the night, even she isn’t that naïve, right?

“Yeah, there is, I should be able to get back no problem.” Hachirou is blushing from her kindness and Mamoru rolls his eyes, damn brats.

“If you’re sure, if not, you can crash here.”

He’s not sure Hachirou brushes off the offer because he genuinely doesn’t feel it’s needed or because Mamoru is maybe glaring a little harsher at him than needed. If something happened to her, Eisuke would throw a hissy fit and he’s not dealing with that shit.

“Nah, I really can’t impose.”

“Fine, but at least let me give you some food to take back.”

“You don’t have to.”

She’s already in the fridge, getting out containers of home cooking, leftovers, boxes of bakery goods, and whatever else she deems fit to put in Hachirou’s arms. By the time she’s done he has Tupperware stacked up to beneath his chin, enough food to set him for at least a couple weeks.

“That should make things a bit easier, when you’ve finished it all just bring the Tupperware back and I’ll give you some more, I know things are tight when you’re in college, but I don’t want you going without, alright?”

He nods as she ruffles through his hair, she really is babying him, the guy might be young but he’s not an actual child. She doesn’t need to be this nice.

“Got anything for me?” Mamoru asks, unable to resist trying to insert himself into the situation. The glare she levels at him as she crosses her arms just makes him grin, she’s too easy to annoy and rile up.

“I got a boot to put up your ass.”

“Eh, I’m good,” he relents, knowing too well how real her threats of violence are.

“Get out, Kishi. You can come back whenever you feel like, Hachirou, just stay clear of the hotel, alright?”

“Alright,” he agrees as he starts to head for the door, but has difficulty opening it with the pile of food in his arms.

“Go help him.”

“So, fucking bossy,” Mamoru groans, but does what she asks, getting the door for Hachirou before following him out of the dorm.

They walk down the hall in silence, Mamoru yawning as they reach the elevator, his stomach full of good food, he’s going to sleep well tonight. Though, he still wishes he could have grabbed some more. Maybe next time he does a favor or something for her, he can badger her into cooking for him.

“Y’know…” Hachirou speaks up as they get into the elevator and the glint in his eyes makes Mamoru completely uncomfortable, reminiscent of Ota when he’s about to say or do something awful.

“What?”

“I’m not one to give advice or anything.”

“Then don’t.”

“But, I gotta say, I think you gotta have some lower expectations, old man.”

“Whazzat supposed to mean?” Mamoru slurs his words, as he starts to light up a cigarette, not caring about whether the little shit next to him minds.

“I’m just saying, I mean, I get we all aim our sights a little high sometimes, but Tsuneko is sooooo out of your league, it’s ridiculous.”

Tsuneko, that’s her fucking name, that was going to drive him crazy. Wait…

“What the fuck is that suppose to mean!?”

The door of the elevator opens and Hachirou steps out with a smirk and Mamoru trailing after him.

“Oh come on, you’re not exactly subtle, you were eyeing her like a slab of meat.”

“I like tits, fuckin’ sue me!”

“Yeah, it wasn’t just when you could see her tits, I’m just saying. A crush never hurts, but if I was you I wouldn’t get my hopes up.”

“I ain’t got any sort of crush on her, ‘cause unlike some people, I’m not a fuckin’ kid.”

“Well, that’s good,” Hachirou tells him as they leave the lobby, cold night air on their skin, “I’d hate to see you get hurt when she rejects your old ass.”

“Hey, what the hell makes you think she’s the one out of my league, huh? She’s nothing but a fuckin’ brat!”

Hachirou laughs, the little fucker actually laughs in Mamoru’s face. The older man’s fist twitches with the urge to deck the little shit, what the hell makes Tsuneko so out of his league? Sure, she’s young and cute, but her personality leaves a lot to be desired. And Mamoru, well he’s… He’s…got positive traits, probably somewhere, that would make him desirable to someone… Tsuneko isn’t perfect and that’s the point!

“Hey, if you don’t like her, then it’s not a problem. I’m just saying, I think if it came down between someone like you and someone who’s y’know younger, better looking, in college making something of themselves, that she’s already comfortable spending the night with, her choice would be kinda obvious, don’t you think?”

“Look here-”

“Ah, I gotta get to my train, see you around Kishi.”

Hachirou goes off towards the train station, vanishing off into the night lights and leaving Mamoru smoking between the dorms and hotel. His cigarette hangs from his lips, smoke swirling in the air. Something tight in his chest and he doesn’t know what.

He doesn’t like her. Not at all and not one little bit, the fact he’s just been practically challenged for the affection of a woman he doesn’t even want shouldn’t phase him. If Hachirou has a crush on Tsuneko, that’s his business. Hell, if the kid wants to talk down to his rivals, Mamoru can show him to some actual rivals for that brat, how even one let alone so many people like her is beyond him.. But it still pisses him off, just the suggestion that she was out of his league, the notion she’d never want him. Maybe, it’s just his ego, but something nags at the back of his mind, telling him to make that kid eat his words.

#kbtbb kissed by the baddest bidder #kbtbb #mamoru kishi #eisuke ichinomiya #soryu oh #ota kisaki #mitsunari baba #tsuneko tomori #black market wonderland #bmw

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asphalt-cocktail · 4 years

Text

Kinkmas Prompt #14: Cock Warming

A/N: Guys I had a really exhausting day today and if my writing doesn’t 100% project my feelings rn idk what does. Anyways, I hope you all like it, its super soft and cuddly, also I’ve never written cock warming before??? So let me know how it went! If you would like to request a prompt and character yourself please reference my Kinkmas masterpost.

Pairing: Warren Worthington x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Angst, SOFT, fluff, smut, injury, mentions of blood and fighting, probably some allusions to being kidnapped/imprisoned, asshole men, cock warming, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), unmentioned mutation,

Kinkmas 2019 Masterlist

General Masterlist

Asks

If you are considered a minor do NOT interact with this post. This is fictitious content and I own nothing.

Your muscles ached as you found yourself waking up pressed against the cool ground. A harsh voice pulling you from your slumber “Wake up!” It barked, jabbing a stiff boot harshly into your side.

You winced and hissed at the pain, “I can’t fight anymore tonight.” You said struggling to stand up.

A man in a uniform reminiscent to the military roughly grabbed your elbow and pulled you to your feet, “We’ve got something better for you.” He said letting go of you.

Your knees buckled under you, you were weak after having gone and won five rounds in the cage. They allowed you a break from your last fight because you were ‘making too much of a mess bleeding everywhere,’ that’s when you found yourself tossed into a cold dark cell and locked behind bars. Typically, you could hold your own in a cage fight, but this time your opponent had been significantly larger than you and had a strength enhancing mutation leaving you totally blind sided.

The guard pushed into your back with the barrel of his gun, the cold metal digging into your skin and pushed you forward, your mind was still hazed over with a sleep and exhaustion induced fog, “We need you to keep the Champ from tonight company.” He said giving you a wink that churned your stomach.

You felt bile stinging the back of your throat as you pushed it down, now over come with far “No!” You said harshly and turned to push past him. After a brief and weak struggle, you found the guards strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you kicking and screaming down the hall “Let me go!” You yelled trying to fight despite you weakened state. You would never let one of these sleezy men use you like that, over your dead body.

“You’ll have to kill me before I do anything with whatever pig you’ve got me lined up for.” You hissed, scratching at the arm that firmly gripped you.

The guard chuckled “I’ll leave that up to him.” He said, reaching to unlock the door before pushing you in and shutting it behind you.

You fell to your knees and scrambled up, running towards the door only to hear the lock on the outside click.

Locked in.

You looked around the room, it was nicer than the one you had but still shitty as far as living conditions went. It had a couch, an actual bed, a few books and records strewn about, and even a back room that you assumed was the bathroom. You continued to scope the room in a desperate attempt to find some where to hide. Your chest rose and fell rapidly as your breathing and heart rate increased, your panicked eyes darting around the room.

Moments passed and you found yourself with your knees pulled up against your chest sitting on the side of a dresser near the corner of the room, hopefully concealed by the shadows. You pressed your body against the wall and held your breath once you heard the shuffle of heavy footsteps coming into the main living area.

“I know you’re in here.” The voice sounded gruff, “Come on.”

You weighed your options, you could either A: go out and face him head on, or A: remain hiding in the shadows. Despite your urge to fight your brain settled with B, while your body was pumping with adrenaline your muscles screamed with your every move.

The footsteps padded around the room in search of you before a large, wide shadow loomed over you. You pressed yourself closer against the wooden dresser an pulled your knees tighter against you. A long feathery wing came into view and lowered as the man who held then knelt down, getting eye to eye with you.

He couldn’t have been much older than you, just barely twenty you guessed, his brows looked as though they were permanently furrowed with frustration, but his eyes were a surprisingly bright blue color and his chest was bare and scarred.

“Angel,” Your voice was soft and hoarse. He had horror stories about him in the ring, often going over 10 rounds before they pulled him simply just to shake up the predictability of a fight.

He winced at the sound of his fighting name and sat on the floor across from you; his wings relaxed at his sides, the feathers lightly gracing the floor. “Warren, please.” He looked away, avoiding eye contact.

You frowned and began to sputter an apology before you were interrupted, his hand reached up to cup your face and you winced, pulling away instinctively from his touch, he let out a soft ‘sshh’ to calm your skittish nerves “’M not gonna do anything.” He calmly spoke.

Your breathing hitched in your throat as you felt his warm, rough hand cup your face, the pads of his thumb lightly ghosting over the swollen bruise on your cheek. You hissed out and winced in pain before he pulled away “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” He asked.

You were surprised by his softness but accepted the hand he stretched out to you and allowed him to pull you from the ground, leading you into the bathroom. It was nice, nicer than what you had. There was a toilet, sink, and full shower and back. Just like you used to have before you were quite literally thrown into cage fighting.

Warren put the lid of the toilet seat down and motioned for you to sit which you promptly followed, “He grabbed an old and worn washcloth and wet it in the sink before pressing it against the patches of dried blood and dirt that had crusted to your face. You sighed against the warmth, you hadn’t been touched this kindly in what felt like ages. He pulled away, frowning, “I’m sorry,” He started before rinsing and ringing out the rag before going back to cleaning the muck and grime off your face, “That you got sent here.” He added, swallowing thickly.

You shook your head “It’s okay,” You added, it really wasn’t okay but then again it wasn’t either of your faults you ended up in this situation.

When Warren pulled away, you found yourself leaning in for more of his soft touch only to frown when he began to leave, “You can use the bathroom to clean up if you’d like.” He said and pulled out a worn-out towel from a shelf, “You look like you went a few too many rounds tonight.” He added with a small laugh.

You nodded your head and sheepishly looked away, “Can…” You tried to find your voice, “Can you stay with me?” You asked playing with the hem of your shirt.

Warren nodded his head, “Yeah,” He said before walking towards the shower and turning on the faucet and letting the water run. He plugged the tub, assuming you would want a bath considering you could hardly stand without wincing or walk without a limp. You adjusted the temperature to your liking and started to undress, letting out small gasps as your muscles ached with your movements. Warren’s face flushed pink when you asked him to help you into the tub, but he agreed, averting his eyes to allow you some modesty.

The water stung your open cuts but soothed your aching muscles and bones. The contrasting feeling causing a content sigh to escape your lips. You couldn’t remember the last time you properly bathed, it felt nice to be enveloped by warm water once again. After you bathed you felt refreshed even wrapped up in this raggedy old towel, Warren laid on his bed, his wings comfortably spread out underneath him. You stood on the side of the bed shifting nervously, still wrapped in your towel and damp.

Warren flashed you a clever smirk and patted the side, “I’m not going to let you sleep on the floor, come on.” He said moving to make room.

You felt your face flush before you nervously slipped onto the bed, laying atop the sheets. Your curled into yourself, your damp towel and wet skin doing nothing to keep you warm in the dark and cool room. You let out a small yelp, feeling Warren’s arm pull you onto his chest, his wings wrapping around you. His feathers tickled your skin lightly, they were soft and proved to be a good barrier against the cold.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your face into the crook of your shoulder. The two of you held each other tightly, for fear that you would never get a chance to be this close to someone again. But you still craved a closeness that hadn’t been achieved yet. Your arms wrapped tighter and tighter around him, pulling you flush against him and not cheek to cheek.

Warren’s chest rumbled with a deep laugh, “Christ you’re going to choke me if you keep that up.” He said straining against your surprisingly strong grip.

You loosened your arms, “Sorry,” You muttered into his shoulder, “I- I just,” You struggled to gather your thoughts “I just want to be close.” Your voice cracked with emotion.

Swallowing thickly Warren glanced down at you with a sympathetic expression, “I… well,” he chewed on his lip in ponderous thought “we… we can’t get closer, unless we -uh- well you know.” He struggled to articulate. Both of your faces flushed at his suggestion, “I mean we don’t have to actually do anything.” He quickly added, “It can just be inside… I guess.”

The cogs in your brain turned as you pieced together his poorly worded sentence, the thought of laying together so intimately caused your walls to clench, “Okay, we can try it.” You said and licked your lips nervously.

Warren had managed to slip his pants and boxers off with out much of a fuss leaving the two of you bare. You sat up and sank down on his half hard length and let out a shaky breath as you felt him stretch your walls. His brows furrowed and he let out a needy whine, struggling to control himself. You leaned forward and allowed his arms and wings to wrap firmly around you once again while the two of you shuttered with each one of your movements.

You wrapped your arms around his neck held Warren tight against you as he kept one hand firmly anchored around your waist with the other stroking lazily up and down your back. It felt surprisingly nice to be held and as close as humanly possible to someone, even if that someone was all but a stranger to you.

Soon Warren’s hand was running his fingers through your damp hair, lightly scratching against your scalp. You shifted, causing his hips to lightly buck against you, you gasped, and Warren muttered out a strangled apology. His arms squeezed you lightly against him and the heat radiating off his body was unimaginable.

Your breath was ragged as he held you close, neither of you dared to move, the threat of what might happen looming over and hoping to tempt either one of you to finally break. You sat up slightly to see him, your faces close and mouths just barely touching before he cupped your face and pulled you into a soft kiss. You moaned into his tender touches causing your hips to lightly rock against his own. You both pulled away and hissed from the pleasure erupting from your small movements and rested your forehead on Warren’s. Your noses touched as the two of you continued to make little and slow movements with your hips. Soft and needy whines escaped your mouth as you lazily moved against him, your slow languid motions both fulfilling and leaving the two of you wanting more.

Your walls clenched around Warren’s cock and he bucked his hips sharply against you, causing you to throw your head back and cry out. His suddenly wings unfurled and spread out on either side of him, fluffed with excitement. Warren sharply bucked his hips into you again, the skin lightly smacking together, and you planted your hands on his chest, arching your back as you let out a deep wanton moan.

Your hands remained splayed out against his scarred and defined chest as he began to pick up the pacing of his thrusts, pumping into you in a rhythmic fashion. You knew neither one of you would last long, taking the hints from your needy touches.

You sat up, proper, and rolled your hips against his, Warren gripping your hips and grinding you down onto him as your walls pulsated around him and threw your head back letting the waves of pleasure wash over you. Warren soon followed, pulling you close against his chest, his hips writhing against yours as he grunted and released inside you.

The two of you stilled in your post orgasm exhaustion and held each other listening to one another’s labored breaths.

#warren worthington #warren worthington x reader #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy #angel #angel x reader #archangel #archangel x reader #ben hardy x female reader #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy fluff #ben hardy smut #ACs Kinkmas

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lesbianfreyja · 5 years

Note

80 + macden 👀

80. You owe me.

“I’m not doing this. I don’twant to do this,” Mac insisted. His head tipped back, looking up at the sign hungabove the entrance to the building before them.

“You’re doing it,” said Dennisfirmly.

Mac felt Dennis’s knucklesbrush against his a few times before Dennis fumblingly caught his hand and squeezed.Mac snorted and rolled his head to the side to look at him, watching Dennisgrin back.

“We can’t afford it, Dennis,” he complained. “We paid rent late twice thisyear already. Last time we did date night, you took me to Denny’s!”

“Here’s the thing, baby boy.”Dennis moved in front of him, patting his chest. His fingers curled into thefront of Mac’s shirt. “Last year, you got me a bag of salt and vinegar chips formy birthday, and the year before that you forgot it completely.”

“I didn’t forget,” Mac interrupted.“I gave you that blowjob!”

“That was because you’d spentfour hours watching a Ryan Reynolds marathon that afternoon and you felt guiltyfor calling me the wrong name in bed,” said Dennis. “You didn’t even know you’dmissed it until the next day.”

Mac shifted around, his eyesrolling.

“Den…”

“So, this year, I’m picking outexactly what I want and all you have to do is swipe the card.” Dennis slung anarm around his shoulders. “You owe me.”

Mac sighed. “Fine, man. Whatever.But if one of them tries to scratch me like it did last time I’ll never forgiveyou.”

“You like cats,” Dennisreminded him. “It was one feral cat one time. Come on.”

He took Mac’s hand again andstarted pulling on him, and reluctantly Mac followed his boyfriend inside. A bellabove the door tinkled when they came in, and several animals in cages nearbylooked up eagerly at them, wagging their tails.

“Hi!” a saleswoman popped up togrin sunnily at them. “How can I—”

“Oh, Mac! Look at this one!”

Dennis pulled Mac around thegirl and released his hand to drop down to his haunches. He stuck his fingersthrough the slats in the cage, and the kitten inside slunk as far away from himas it could.

“Black cats are bad luck, dude,”said Mac. “Every time it runs by you, it means a witch is cursing God in yourhonor! I don’t wanna be cursed that much, bro.”

Dennis twisted around to lookup at him. “You don’t really believe in witches, do you?”

“It’s true! That’s a straightup fact!”

Dennis snorted softly, shakinghis head as he turned back to the cat. Even though he’d been waggling hisfingers through the cage at it, slow and hypnotic in an attempt to coax itcloser, it stayed trembling as far away from him as it could. Grunting, Dennispulled his hand away from the black cat and straightened up.

“Whatever,” said Dennis. “Youwere an ugly little bitch anyway.”

Mac trailed after him as he meanderedfurther down the same aisle.

“Maybe we could look at thedogs?” Mac suggested, eyes widening hopefully. “If we have to get a pet, a dogwould be way more badass—”

“Don’t even try it,” Dennis saiddryly, shooting Mac a look over his shoulder. “It’s my birthday. And I want a cat.”

Mac sighed. Dennis wandered pastmore cages, dismissing the animals inside as being too scrawny, too big, toobitchy-looking, not enthusiastic enough about him jamming his hand in their cage.They walked up and down a few more aisles, with Dennis rejecting every single catthat they saw. They were only a few cages left, filling Mac up with dread thatthis errand was about to extend well into the afternoon if they had to drive togo look at another pet shop.

Dennis frowned at a fat brownone who kept swiping at his hand. Mac’s eyes drifted away from his millionthpainful rejection, scanning the surrounding cages absently.

“Holy shit!” Mac shouted out. Hedarted past a few more cages and dropped hard to his knees on the floor. Heshoved his face in close to the bars of this cat’s enclosure. Instead ofrearing back, it stayed nibbling at its food bowl. “Dennis, look at him! He’s socool!”

He heard Dennis trailing afterhim and felt him settle just behind him to the side. When he glanced upeagerly, Dennis had his arms crossed and he was frowning down at Mac on the ground.

“What are you talking about, Mac?It’s just a—” Dennis picked at the nametag hung on the cage, squinting at thedescription. “—Mac, it’s just a stupid tabby cat. They’re like, everywhere.Charlie’s got about five that follow him from his building to the bar.”

“But he’s so orange!”

Mac’s face scrunched up in aweand he leaned back in close to the cat’s cage. It finally stopped eating longenough to acknowledge him, and it slinked closer, sniffing the air tentatively.Mac pressed his face right up near to the bars and it flinched back at first,minutely, at his sudden movement forward. After a second it padded closer againand ducked toward the side of the cage too. It pushed its snout near Mac’s noseand sniffed again. Mac laughed. When he looked up, a faint smile was tugging onthe edge of Dennis’s mouth. Mac grinned and stood up.

“He’s so cute, Dennis!” hesaid. “We have to get him! Can I hold him?”

Mac whipped around to look fora sales associate. Dennis spotted one first and flagged them over.

“This one’s a girl, bro,” saidDennis.

“No way. It’s way too cool-looking.Look how orange he is!”

“Yeah, she’s really orange.” Dennisrolled his eyes. “But look, dude, the tag says right here that her name is Chloe.”

Chloe lookedup at them both through the top of her cage, tilting her head. Behind them, someonecleared their throat and they both turned around to look at the girl from earlierstanding behind them.

“Hey there,” she said. “Youlike—”

“I wanna hold this one,” saidMac, pointing at Chloe.

“It’s my cat,” Dennis snapped, stepping in front of Mac. “She’s for me. Potentially. If we decide to gether.”

Mac leaned against Dennis’sback to get closer to the salesgirl.

“Whatever. Just take her out!”

The salesgirl stepped aroundthem to undo Chloe’s cage.

“Be careful,” she said, easingChloe up out of it. “She doesn’t usually like men.”

She handed the cat off toDennis, after he won the shoving fight between him and Mac to hold her first.Dennis was surprisingly still, and quiet, as he gathered her up in his arms. Shewas tense at first, but when Dennis stroked a hand down her back she started torelax.

“Wow,” said the girl. “I’m surprised,she generally doesn’t trust—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dennis interrupted.“We’re done with you. You can go now.”

“I — can’t just leave you herewith an animal unattended,” said the girl, uncertainly. “Um, I’ll stand overhere while you make a decision.”

She moved a little way away to watchthem from over by some fish tanks. Mac shuffled in closer to Dennis, reachingup to scratch at Chloe’s ears. Her eyes closed, and she nudged into Mac’s hand.

“She likes us!” Dennis said, lookingup to grin at him.

“It’s probably because we’regay, dude,” said Mac, moving to rub her under her chin. “She can sense that we’renon-threatening.”

“That’s not a — you know what, sure,”said Dennis. He knocked Mac’s hand out of the way so he could lift her up andlook her in the eyes. She blinked slowly at him. With one paw, she reached outlike she was going to touch him on the shoulder — then instead she brought herarm down and smacked Dennis in the face.

Mac doubled over laughing.

“Bitch,” Dennis gasped softly,but he brought her back to his chest and kept running his fingers down her backanyway.

“Oh, my God, dude! She’s perfect!”Mac said. “Dennis, bro, we have to get her! Look at her, she’s so cute…She’s alreadycopying me, we have to take her home. She’s…what’s the word? She’s imprintingon us!”

“Cats don’t do that,” Dennissaid. He still sounded a little annoyed but he tucked Chloe under his chin andhugged her closer.

“Yeah, they totally do!” Macinsisted. He reached out to pet her side, dancing around where Dennis’s arm wastucked beneath her.

“You’re thinking of ducks.”

“Ducks do it too. It’s a thingthat like, any small mammal does. Trust me, that’s science.”

“It is absolutely not,” said Dennis.“So what? You think that big dogs don’t imprint on people but little ones do?”

“Of course not, Dennis,” Macsaid, rolling his eyes. “That would be stupid! If they have the potential to become big, then they can’timprint. Duh. It’s a gene some animals have, bro, trust me.”

Dennis thought this over as heput Chloe back in her cage and the salesgirl brought them up to the counter tostart filling out adoption paperwork. They would need an interview-type meetingfirst, apparently, to bring them up to speed on Chloe’s background and historyand make sure they had the means of providing for her. Institutions were sostupid. Mac wanted to bring her back now but the saleswoman said it was literallyimpossible, even when he argued and got loud. Bitch.

“Lions,” said Dennis as theywere walking back to the car. He snapped his fingers in the air like he’d justsolved an impossible riddle.

“What?” Mac turned to look athim. “What are you talking about?”

“Lions are like big cats. So byyour own theory, cats can’t imprint.”

He smiled proudly.

“No, you’re getting confused,”said Mac, shaking his head. He pulled open the passenger side door to the carand climbed in. “Lions are just relativesof cats. One of the genes that makes them super big and gives them a mane alsomakes it so they can’t imprint. They’re different.”

Dennis rolled his eyes.

“Let’s just go buy stuff fordinner,” he said, twisting the key into the ignition.

They got to bring Chloe home aweek after they met her. Dennis had gone all out and bought her a bed andlitter box and several large bags of food from Walmart already, but Mac hadgone back to the pet store to pick up things for her to play with. Annoyingly,she avoided all of Mac’s super cool food-shaped toys to gnaw on the edge of thepillow they had sat her on so she could lay between them on the couch.

Dennis was obsessed with her,wouldn’t stop nudging her ears and stroking her back while she ignored him tokeep chewing on their pillow.

“I guess it’s okay that she’s agirl,” said Mac, frowning at her. “At least her color is still badass.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Dennis cooedat the kitten. “He’s just jealous that you like me more than you like him.”

“We should still call her somethingcool, though,” said Mac. “Hey! Remember how you promised to name your firstbornkid Murphy? After I died, remember?”

Dennis finally looked away fromthe cat to glare at him.

“No fucking way, Mac,” he said.“We are not naming her after Robocop. She’s sweet, we should name her somethingsmaller—”

“You promised!”

“When you actually die forreal, I’ll change her name to Murphy. Okay?” said Dennis. “Until you’re in theground I don’t have to do jack shit that was on your little list of funeraldemands.”

“But you’re—”

They were interrupted by a loud,plaintive meow coming from betweenthem. Mac glanced down at her, but Dennis was already lashing out to scoop herup in his arms. He petted at her head, pulling her into his chest and turning awayfrom Mac like he was trying to hide her from him. Mac made an irritated noise,trying to swipe out around Dennis to pet her again.

“I won’t let him name you Murphy,”Dennis promised.

“Well, we have to change it tosomething because Chloe was the name of the bitch who pushed me off a swingsetin fifth grade!” said Mac. He brought his fist down hard on his thigh. “We saidwe’d be cat dads together, Dennis.You don’t get to hog her.”

Dennis sighed. He lowered thecat onto his lap, where she promptly started kneading at him until he wassuitably comfortable enough for her to curl up on and go to sleep. Dennislooked up at Mac, smug.

“Why don’t you go scoop hersome food?” Dennis suggested. He gestured down at her. “I can’t move.”

Grumbling, Mac pushed himselfoff the couch to deal with her dinner. While he worked, he tried to come upwith a better name for her, but everything cool that he liked was a dude’s name.It wasn’t his fault that women were never in any good movies.

“What about Anne,” he said suddenly,spinning around with a finger in the air.

Dennis wasn’t listening to him.Dennis was bent over, rubbing at the cat’s stomach and murmuring something intoher ears. Mac softened, watching them for a minute or two. Eventually he turnedaround to keep scooping her some dinner. He guessed they could fight about what to name hersome other time.

DISCLAIMER! i clearly knownothing about cats or pet shops lol so that’s all creative liberty at work. i mean, i skimmed the pet smart website on adoption. and my friends have cats. also, adopt don’t shop x

#honeyreynolds #ask #iasip fic #fic #fic stuff #iasip #mac x dennis #drabble tag

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ilovehighhats · 6 years

Text

Missteps, ch. 02

Next instalment is here! Again, many thanks to @ihaveauseforyou

AO3 version here.

And you can find the first chapter here.

oOo

PART TWO:

COMMON PITFALL OF CONCEIT

oOo

For all the complaining I did, for all my snide remarks on the dangers of trekking through the desert under cover of the night, it is I who got his ass in a hole.

Right in the middle of a bright bloody day.

In my defence - the crevice was well concealed. One moment I stepped through loose rocks trying to find a path wide enough for the Reaver, and the next I was falling down an almost vertical wall of sandstone.

So, I’m in a ditch. Literally fucking trapped like a stupid animal.

For all the thoughts I wasted on the woman I never once suspected that I'd be the idiot who steps straight into a chasm. Like a sleepwalking baby.

I don't know, what was I thinking?!

My left arm is incapacitated - at best dislocated, at worst... No, I’m not even thinking about it. It’s only disjointed. Nothing I can’t fix. Pity that the bike is hanging right over my head. When I fell I didn’t want to let it go, so that got my shoulder sprained and the machine locked just above me. One water tank broke too.

The most idiotic thing is, I can’t even wiggle sideways. I’m like those deer, which got into a hole in the mountains - nowhere to move, only sing lower and lower into the chasm, until all that is left is a beautifully arranged cage of bleached bones.

Just my fucking luck. I could have died a thousand times over. I could have made it count. For someone. For something more significant than my sick, absent, filthy mind.

But no, I just had to make myself die the stupidest fucking way possible.

A misstep.

oOo

How long am I here?

I keep drifting in and out of consciousness. Funny thing, that. For once I can’t seem to find Sprog. Did I leave the kid with Jesse in the shop? Or are we at Aunt May’s?

No, I'm dizzy. I was just at the Citadel. Both Sprog and my wife are dead. All of my family is gone. Everything is destroyed.

I’m so alone…

Is it night already?

“Hey!”

I look up. There's the sky, midnight blue with a twinkling scar of Milky Way. The moon got so thin it barely gives any light, but I can see a dark blob hanging just ahead. Right, the bike.

“Hey, you fucker, are you dead?”

I don’t know that voice. Better stay quiet.

It’s so cold though. I can feel my teeth chatter, a distinct staccato of enamel hitting enamel fast like maracas in a tropical bar.

The voice gets muffled, and it sounds like I’ll be left in peace. Good. I just want to sleep. Maybe then I’ll get warm again. Maybe after I wake my head won’t be hurting as if it split in two…

That’ll be the day. A bright light hits my eyes, and I groan, too hurt to care; I just betrayed my position and condition to whoever is torturing me.

“Oh good, so you are alive after all. Wait there.”

There’s amusement in the voice. Stupid cunt.

Then I realise. It’s the woman I rescued. She trailed behind me, then I thought she changed course, but she must have just beelined to my trail. And she found me without falling into a ditch like a moron herself. Even though she was the one riding the bike by night.

How fucking unfair is that?

But of course, nothing at all is fair in the wasteland. Not one goddamn thing.

oOo

I must have drifted away, because when I come to again - right fucking now - the only thing I feel is piercing, searing pain.

“Don’t yell, you moron!” She hisses above me. Closer, than she should be. “Help me get that rope around you.”

There is a thick coil of strings under my right armpit. I look up to see the sky and a slender silhouette of the woman.

Where’s the Reaver?

“What?”

Did I say that out loud?

“Barely. You sound like a mumbling, raving lunatic.”

That’s because I am.

She chuckles, but it dies down soon in a grunt of exertion. I can’t feel anything.

When was the last time I heard a woman chuckle because of me?

“Don’t be a drongo mate, help me here.”

I try, but the darkness spills under my eyelids before I can do anything more than let out a grunt.

oOo

Another stab of pain, and then a relief so intense I can feel my mouth water, the salivary glands working so fast it’s unpleasant. Before I have a chance to finish a groan at the sharp ache, I can feel tepid liquid at my lips.

Water!

I gulp it down and try to gather my bearings. I’m sitting up, propped on something semi-comfortable. The crevice I fell into is close, on my right. There’s a bike standing neatly beside the Reaver. My ride has landed in a heap but is seemingly intact.

Where’s the woman?

I have my answer when a slender hand grabs the canteen from my palm. She’s the thing I’m resting on.

What in the actual fuck?!

Reflexively, I try to hit her with my elbow, but she deflects easily and bounces my limbs off as if I was a weak kitten. Flailing, I scramble away in a panic, patting my legs for a weapon. None. My left arm is less than useless. Good to know.

“I wouldn't get you out just to drown you, so don’t get your panties in a knot, handsome.”

She has them. My knives, my guns, everything.

She notices my eyes darting to the weapons, and her head sways slightly in a disappointed way.

“Nor would I like to be rewarded with a blade through my gut.”

The canteen drops at my feet.

“Drink. You need to rehydrate. I reset your shoulder, but you should spare it for a while.”

I nod and frown at her even as I take another blessed swig of the water. A sparse movement of my head towards the hole is all the thanks she’ll get, and I don’t care if she gets the meaning behind it.

She does.

“We’re even.”

I grunt in agreement. It seems that we are.

“It also seems we’re heading the same way.”

I try to shake the confusion away. My brain is fogged with exhaustion, and for once I can't mobilise enough to feel threatened. I need time to think.

“Dawn is near. I’ll set camp. Rest.”

There's no way I’ll sleep with someone this close.

No way in hell.

oOo

Under the scorching sun, I wake up.

It seems like I’m dreaming still. It’s so unfamiliar; two bikes are standing on each side of me, a canopy of softly rustling fabric over my head, stretched on the handles of the bikes. A canteen of water by my hand.

The only familiar detail is the barrel of a gun aimed at my face. This I know, intimately. The hand holding it is darkened with an extensive tattoo, for a while I thought it was a glove, and it doesn't tremble.

I smile and grunt, and get up, slowly and carefully, mindful of the hole beyond the safety of the makeshift camp. My back hurts, and the awareness of a stranger with a weapon trained on my head is tensing the muscles further. But I need a leak.

She follows my movement with her outstretched arm but otherwise does nothing.

I piss straight into the ravine. Take that, death. Not today.

“I didn't get your supplies from down there.”

Shit.

“Please, don’t.”

How in the hell can she be amused?

How in the hell can I smirk at her lame joke?

I turn back and crawl under the canopy. It’s the first time I see her up close in actual sunlight.

There’s not much to look at - a haphazard collection of rags, just like my shabby clothing, long and dusty hair in two thick, braided ropes trailing from under a dark hood. Her face is barely visible behind dark goggles, and a scarf draped all around her head. Evidently, she knows her way around the desert, even though her complexion is proof of how seldom she must have ever been here for extended periods of time.

I remember seeing her naked that first night. Her skin was abnormally white then, but now whatever was exposed to sun turned into an ugly shade of red. Nothing in her clothes hints at what is hidden underneath, and I imagine it's intentional.

Despite what she came through she boldly returns my appraising stare.

My eyes drop to her hands. Only one palm is adorned with a tattoo, but it's an actual work of art. Nothing like the abomination carved into my back. Hers is flat and subtle, rusty brown lines flowing delicately around themselves to form the shape of a drop. Like an intricately woven drop of blood.

Her taxing gaze is getting on my nerves. If my hand wasn’t lame, I could easily overpower her. Especially in this close quarters.

I close my eyes and calculate my odds.

My legs are still working. She’s not too strong. Fast, perhaps, at this moment surely much more agile than me. But I have the advantage in weight. And obviously - experience. How old is she? A decade younger?

An unfamiliar sound has me snapping my eyes open in an instant. I cautiously trail her hand as she reaches behind her back.

Food.

She rests the armed hand on one knee, and casually stretches the other foot towards me.

“I have a proposition for you.”

Of course. Nothing is free in this land, nothing is without a price. I listen, with a knowing smile, acknowledging her with a grunt.

“I need a bodyguard to get back home. You could use some help as well. Let’s move together for a week or two.”

I snort a short laugh. What an idiot!

“No.”

She smirks and chews on my fucking grilled grub.

“Suit yourself, fool.”

That nickname.

Curiosity gets the best of me. I always was reckless, the passing years didn't change this trait.

“Where to?” I speak automatically.

“That’s a funny question,” she says like it was the least amusing sentence in the world, drawing the words out. “Do you know Rainbow Valley?”

I do. It’s more than a fortnight away. Especially on foot.

“Not enough fuel.”

“We could scavenge.”

Already - we. Who's the fool now? There are no guarantees out here, nothing to rely on but the things at hand. And right now we have one tank of gas between the two of us. At best.

I shake my head.

“I make my own way.” It’s all I have to say on the matter.

“Fine,” she says.

Oh, this one I remember. I roll my eyes because it's the only way of expressing the exasperation every man feels at this word.

It's never fine. It never was fine. Nothing in this wasteland can ever be fine again.

“I'll leave you when the sun comes down, then. You'll find your weapons half a day that way.” She points her hand casually to the east.

oOo

Overpowering her was too easy.

As soon as she nodded off, I slid closer. She didn't move, didn't notice. Where was she living, that on the one hand she could hold her own out in the desert, but in the other - didn't have the necessary survival instincts? How could she not wake, when I was taking the gun from her loosened fingers?

But she did open her eyes alright when she felt the barrel by her temple.

Although, I could only glimpse a shadow of a movement behind the tinted glass of the goggles.

One movement of my head was enough to signal her to take them off. I frowned and settled firmly over her hips, sneaking right knee to the inside of her left elbow, pressing her steadily to the ground.

She slid the cover down, and when her eyes bore into mine, I lost my drift.

Green.

How?

The deep and lush green of moss growing in perpetual shade and moisture. The most unusual colour on the planet. I never knew how much I missed it, until now.

She’s crafty. That moment of hesitation was enough to butt me in the head and press that hand with the goggles straight into the junction of my bad shoulder. Fuck, does it hurt! I’m bloody pissed and act on instinct, tightening my legs around her rising body. It puts us both off balance, and we thud on the rocky ground, dangerously close to the ravine.

She whines but never stops her blows right to my injury. Something is missing in her attack. There's no edge to it.

I manage to press her back down flat on the ground and restrain her movements with my right forearm on her throat. Where's that fucking gun?

During our scuffle, her scarf slid down and finally, I can look at her. Her pupils are blown wide even despite the sun, the treacherous emerald of her iris mostly hidden. There's a tint of pink on her cheeks - so unbelievably pale! - and her mouth is wide open, gulping last panicking breaths.

"You really do need protection." I'm surprised at my own words, and it probably shows. With luck, she'd take that as a reaction to our little exercise. "That was pathetic."

Her eyebrows knit together and I can see she saw through my bluff. At least in part. She licks her lips, and my eyes involuntarily travel down with the movement. I catch a glimpse of teeth, as she bits down on her bottom lip, considering.

“How are you going to get your stuff from down there?”

Fuck. She could at least try not to be this smug. I do know that with a useless arm I’m nowhere near able to climb down for the supplies and then back up with the additional weight.

Shit.

I need her as much as she needs me.

She grins, once she can see capitulation written clearly all over my face.

“Let’s grab a shuteye and sort it out in an hour or two.”

Right. The sun is still scorching – no way we can reasonably do anything in this heat. Too wasteful, especially since nothing is rushing either me or her.

"You can tag along for a while," I say before she has a chance to speak.

Neither of us really sleeps, but we rest under swooshing wind. Tarp over my head dances on the breeze. Everything else is perfectly still, bracing under the sun for the respite of the evening.

For the first time in a long while, I have a set destination to drive to.

oOo

I thought I'm resilient and patient. Apparently, I'm not.

She takes all firearms with her when she climbs down the ravine for my things, and I can feel apprehension in tensing muscles on my back. As I feed the line down the hole, helping her descend gradually and safely, I have this overwhelming urge just to let her fall. I could just take her supplies and maybe go down to get three or four essential things.

These are just thoughts. I'm never going to actually do that.

At least that's what I let myself believe.

She makes a fast job of getting everything back to the surface, without complaints and comments. Before sunset, we have everything strapped down securely to the bikes. Ready to go.

Without any external threat its difficult to let her move with me.

I let her guide my way. It's to the best of my advantage - she’s lighter than me, so smaller risk of falling down a hole. And there's something uncanny in the way she moves in the dark, just like a bat, sure of everything in her path. The deciding factor though, is that I can't have her behind my back. She’s just fine letting me watch her, pretending she doesn't feel my gaze at the back of her neck.

Maybe she really doesn't. I could be projecting.

I catch myself thinking that I haven't seen Sprog in a while.

oOo

There is a rhythm in any journey.

Once the goal is set, you can measure leaps you do every day, weigh them against each other.

Every morning, way before sunrise, we break camp. She deals with fire, while I carefully distribute water and food. I don't sleep well with her by the other side of the bonfire, so every effort she makes to lure me into a conversation is snuffed out with my irritated grunting.

As a matter of fact, I don't talk neither with her nor with my ghosts.

Byt the end of the first week, we've entered a sandy patch of desert again. The dunes wind up and down, and we're using the fuel we've been conserving, to get through them. Midday sees us sitting under the tarp, resting. Then, it's trekking through the wasteland again, up until we find a suitable place for the camp, or are too tired to go on.

She is a good walker. Both bikes have small tanks, and a little bit against myself I'm impressed with her stamina and tenacity. Her bike is light, and she takes every shred of advantage she can, using that to conserve as many resources as she can. She rides only if the terrain is too difficult to get through on foot, even if it means scaling the desert by the moonlight.

oOo

There's a truck, right bang in the middle of an erg.

"It's a trap," I notice mildly.

The woman scoffs and dusts her goggles off with an errant end of her scarf.

"Maybe it is," she says, "but if it's not there could be supplies."

There also could be traps, I think. Greed kills just as quickly and as often as stupidity. The two are inseparably linked.

"Check it out then. I'll look after your bike."

She sends me a pointed look and shakes her head.

We slide down one dune, then drive up another, and find a similar picture. This time it's a bus.

"Now that's definitely a trap." I shake my finger at the raddled vehicle and look around saying that, looking for any signs of hostiles. But the sand is untouched, moving only with the wind. Not a soul in sight.

"Maybe it is," she repeats. "Your offer still stands?"

I frown and feel the wrinkles on my forehead crack a thin layer of caked on the sand.

Why not let her kill herself? Less trouble for myself.

I grunt an acknowledgement.

"Anything we find, I take seventy per cent."

"Okay."

That's not important. I'll take only as much, as I need anyway. Which will probably be all her supplies, as she heads straight down to the bus.

Lucky for me, she took only one gun.

Then, there's a flash. Yelling Sprog, creamy fabric flowing on air, dust, dust, so much dust. A crash and the sickening echo of bones crushed under thick tires.

Angharad is smiling just before she slips.

And then there's Sprog again, asking so sweetly, so innocently...

'Max, is that you? Where were you?'

It's gone.

I blink rapidly and lower the hand I raised to shield my eyes from the vision. It never worked before, so now is no different. I shake my head to clear it a fraction. That never works either.

The woman is still descending the dune. Carefully, but steadily. She doesn't know what lies there, doesn't know if there are monsters beneath the sand. And still, she goes.

“Hey!” I yell after her. “I'll come with.”

She turns back. Her face is hidden behind cloth and glass, but I imagine she's frowning in confusion.

All this time and she never asked my name. I never offered it, and in return never inquired after hers.

She's still measuring my sudden change of heart.

This is the moment where one can just say a name and convey everything that's important in that one word. What am I supposed to say now?

Then she starts back, resolutely saying nothing as she reaches her bike.

I grunt and nod, she nods back. That's all it takes.

Were scaling the erg side by side.

oOo

She cleans her bike when I get back from a recon walk around the camp. The opportunity is rare, so I postpone entering into the scattered light of the bonfire to have another look at her.

Something is not right. She is both wise and foolish. The knowledge of how to remove sand from the machine may not be obscure, but she religiously tends to every single part of it each and every night. Knowing it's vital is one thing, but caring for her it like she does reveal a lot about her experience.

But then, she goes into what very well could be a trap, with her head high, one guna a hooray to keep her spirits up.

Something moves just beyond my peripheral and I act on instinct, sending my knife straight into the intruders' flesh. A goanna. I pick it up by the tail and return to the camp.

The noise reached the woman of course, and she slid into the shadows beyond the fires reach. Smart again. She moves back in, still aiming the gun she grabbed right at me - the source of the noise. I dangle the lizard before me, like a mock peace offering, or a white flag.

There's our dinner.

I clean the carcass and throw it onto coals. It will take a while to cook, so I use the time to tend to the Reaver.

The woman goes back to the maintenance of her own bike, wordlessly. When she's done, she fusses by her sacks, working with her back turned.

I listen to the mysterious rustles and scraping, then tearing, all accompanied by soft humming. She exhales sharply before turning towards me and scaling the few steps across the camp.

"Here," she says handing me something wrapped in a piece of dark cloth. "For sticking out your neck for me."

The jab is playful, and I smile a little. It was fortunate that the bus wasn't really a bait.

"Let's check out the truck in the morning, okay?"

I grunt in agreement, peeking curiously at the object she gave me. It's a white, waxy block of... Paraffin? I smell it.

It's fragrant. Sweet, flowery, decadent. Soap.

For many, it's worth more than my life.

My head snaps up in surprise, and I manage to catch a polite yet indifferent smirk from her before she tends again to her kit. Her white hands are a stark contrast to the worn, dark leather of the sacks.

"What's it for?" I ask. "The tattoo."

The reply is automatic, I'm sure because it comes in an instant. "It signifies my rank in the clan."

She seems to regret saying it the moment the words leave her tongue.

"Is it high?" I push.

"Nah, not really."

I can tell she's lying. Not because of her words, or their delivery. But no one regular treats a luxury like soap as a souvenir of an eventful trip. The bar is apparently cut in half, so she probably left herself the remaining piece. Not enough to bargain for anything significant. But just the right amount to use.

Sadly, that won't be possible. The water is just too valuable to use on frivolous things like cleaning up.

#fandom: mad max #mad max #Fanwork: Fanfiction #fanfiction #ilovehighhats #ihaveauseforyou #max rockatansky #tom hardy

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paintrider13-blog · 7 years

Text

If You Want Blood

This is my entry for the amazing @chaos-and-the-calm67 My prompt was If You Want Blood by AC/DC ;) Thanks to the ever wonderful @death2thevirgin for letting me bounce ideas and for reading it through for me! I hope you like it! It gets SUPER steamy!

Word Count: 3179 yeah its worth it.

Warning: smut, blood, gore, killing, talk of addiction, did I mention smut?

Pairing: Demon!Dean x Reader

Lyrics are in Bold and italics

“Crowley, it’s not enough.” You stormed into the throne room, making sure the doors crashed open, not giving a shit who was present.

“My pet, what is not enough?” He asked looking over the demons before him.

“Any of them. None of them! I’m on fire Crowley! I need something better!” You were almost shrieking at him at this point.

You felt like your veins were burning it didn’t matter how many demons he gave you, the blood couldn’t give you that high you needed. They only tied you over for so long, you knew that the addiction was getting worse but you couldn’t help it, the high that you got from the blood at first was better than anything you’d ever felt before. Now you were chasing more.

Crowley had found you shortly after you had gotten addicted. The demon had left you high and dry, literally. For some unknown reason the King of Hell took to you like a father, you were his little Princess. It probably helped that you were a nasty little thing and had a hell of a temper when provoked.

“Everyone out.” Crowley barked.

You turned to leave just as he called you back.

“Not you my pet, I have a solution.” He steepled his hands in front of him on the throne. Looking thoughtfully at you.

You chewed your bottom lip and waited. You knew that he would fix this. He had taken your addiction to the demon blood that magnified your psychic abilities and channeled all of that anger and destruction. You had been his Angel of Death for close to 70 years. Putting down any demons that crossed the line or that needed to be brought home. Only recently nothing satisfied you and the cravings had gotten worse.

“Since my demon population is not satisfying you, we are going to try something, off menu. However, you my pet, will have to track him down. He is a bit on the rogue side. Find him, you’ll be satisfied, however, you need to do something for me when you find him.” Crowley smiled at you.

“If he will fix this, I’ll find him. Who am I after and who do I have to put down?” You asked sitting on the step at his feet looking up at him. You knew whatever he needed was someone sent back to the depths of Hell.

“Dean Winchester.”

You made your way into the bar tugging your top down a little further. You had been stalking the black eyed hunter for the past few days. You wanted to make your move count. Plus, you had to so you could get his blood.

Dean was at the bar, dressed in a maroon button down shirt and fitted jeans that hugged his ass and a sexy pair of bow legs. God he was attractive, he oozed confidence and sex appeal. The man was a Demon in every sense of the word.

You smiled to yourself as you stalked towards the bar. You passed him at the corner, knowing he saw you, and stopped a few people down. You ordered two double shots of whiskey and turned your back to him.

His eyes fell on you like a caress. You could feel his gaze like a physical touch. You smirked looking down into your glass, you could feel the air shift as he moved towards you down the crowded bar.

“Mmmm, don’t you just smell perfect.” A masculine voice purred in your ear. You felt him slide his nose up the side of your neck as he pressed against your back. “I bet you I am much more fun than whoever you are waiting for.”

“Hello Dean.” You purred back, without turning around you slid the extra tumbler towards him on the bar. “You’re awfully cocky.”

“Do I know you princess?” He asked still pressed to your back.

“Not yet, but hopefully we will get to know each other very well.” You turned towards him drinking your whiskey. You looked up at him and smiled seductivley.

“My room or yours?” He asked smirking at you.

“Yours is probably closer, however, I have a job we need to get done first.” You trailed your finger over his chest.

“Who sent you?” He asked catching your wrist in his large hand in a vice like grip.

“Ooooh, I like it rough,” you almost moaned to him. “Crowley did.”

“I am not his dog to be told what to do. No thanks Princess,” he told you tossing his whiskey back. He still had a hold of your wrist.

“But it will be fun. Plus, you need to satisfy that itch. I can feel it,” you breathed leaning your body flush against the front of him. You could feel the power rolling off of him, it was intoxicating. You wanted to taste him so badly it took all of your control not to bite him hard enough to draw blood right here in the bar.

“Crowley sent you to help me?” He asked skeptically.

“Perse, more or less he sent me because we can help each other out.” You told him focusing on his lips. God they looked kissable.

“Meaning?” He licked his lips knowing full well that is where your focus was.

“Well you need to satisfy that nasty little thing,” you nodded towards his arm. “And I need some satisfaction that can only come from you.” You met his eyes.

“Not enough sex out there for you Princess?” He chuckled.

“Oh, it’s not the sex babe,” you leaned towards his ear. “It’s the blood. See as a Knight of Hell, you are top shelf kind of satisfaction. But I do bet you are one hell of a lay. All we have to do is clean up a couple of demons who don’t want to go home. You give me a little bite, or two, of you and we are square.”

“A bite? I know who you are. You’re Y/N, Crowley’s little bitch.” He leaned back and looked you over. You were dressed in tight black jeans, a halterneck black corset and heeled boots.

“Oh, now, now, you are Crowley’s Bitch the last I checked, and I prefer Princess. Two different things.” You told him shortly. You waved the bartender down and ordered two more whiskey’s.

“You’re a mouthy little shit.” Dean growled at you roughly grabbing your hip. Ooh, he had a temper.

“Hey babe, it takes one to know one. Now are you going to help me or not?” you looked pointedly at him. You knew you had to behave a little, you needed his blood and you were not going to survive without it. You could already feel the effects of the last demon fading.

“Why would I help you?”

You smiled at him and leaned into his chest, sliding your hand closest to the bar down below his belt line to cup him through his jeans.

“Because, you’re bored of trolling the bars for sex that is passable at best, and you need to satisfy the voice that is begging to be fed. Begging for you to kill, to feel that high.” You tighten your grip on his dick causing him to take a sharp breath through his teeth.

“Who do you have to put down?” He asked leaning in towards your face. He smelled of whiskey and excitement.

“There is a bar ten miles outside town called The Red Lantern. It the demons version of the hunter’s Roadhouse.” You slid your other hand up around the nape of his neck and pulled him closer.

“How am I supposed to help?” He asked following your pull.

“I can do ten on one, twenty is a little harder and thirty is rough. Help me take them out, let me feed and we are good.” You let your breath fall across his lips.

“How much do you need?” He asked focusing on you.

“After we are done, it will be worth it.” You whispered. “Let’s get out of here.” You grabbed his hand and led the way for the parking lot.

You talked him into your Chevelle and made your way out of town. He didn’t ask questions until you pulled into the lot.

“How many?” he asked quietly, looking at the front door of the bar.

“Forty give or take. I can only take half of them alone.” You told him following his look.

“All you need is for me to help send them back?”

“Yep, all you need to do is go tear through them. I am surprised you are asking questions. I give you the opportunity to kill and you are questioning me.” You reached across the seat to stroke his thigh.

“Well Princess, this all seemed a little too good to be true. I’ll get the back doors, let’s go,” he opened the door and slid out of the car. He rolled his head to loosen his neck and started towards the bar.

“Well okay then,” you huffed getting and following him.

Once inside you watched Dean make his way to the bar to get a drink, you discreetly flipped the lock on the front door biting your lip, surveying the mass of demons in the bar. 40 total. You sashayed your way to the jukebox in the corner, pulling most of the eyes in the bar to you when you bent over to pick your selection. You scrolled through and found the AC/DC cd’s and quickly made your selection.

As the song started you planted your hands on the sides of the jukebox and swayed your hips, tossing your head back and forth:

It’s criminal

There ought to be a law,

Criminal

There ought to be a whole lot more

You get nothing for nothing

Tell me who can you trust

We go what you want

And you got the lust

You bent down to slide your blade from your boot and turned suddenly, stabbing the demon who had come up behind you. Your mouth curved into a sadistic smile as you kicked the demon back to fall to the floor causing the entire bar to erupt into chaos.

If you want blood you got it

If you want blood, you got it

Blood on the streets

Blood on the rocks

Blood in the gutter

Every last drop

You want blood, you got it

You twirled around removing the head of another demon that came at you laughing as his head hit the floor with a thud. You winked at Dean who was still at the bar, he tossed his drink back and joined you in the fray shaking his head at you.

It’s animal

Livin’ in a human zoo

Animal

The shit they toss to you

Feeling like a Christian

Locked in a cage

Thrown to the lions

On the second page

You paused watching Dean cut through the demons as they scattered across the bar running for the exits. Watching him fight was like watching a finely rehearsed dance. He was smooth, vicious, he cut through everything in his path. He had a satisfied smirk on his face as he went. He was enjoying this. God his blood would be rich and full of adrenaline and power.

You had put the song on repeat, by the third time through there was nothing left standing in the bar. Dean was standing with his back to you breathing heavily. You watched him roll his head back looking up at the ceiling taking a deep breath. He was still on the high, the blood fueled drive.

He turned suddenly, his eyes landing on you, standing with your legs braced apart surrounded by bodies breathing heavily. You had blood running down your arm to drip off your blade, and you were sure it was splashed on your face, a little blood never did bother you.

You quirked an eyebrow at him and smirked as he started towards you. He dropped his blade on the way, not a word said as he scooped you up in his arms, his lips crashing to yours in a scorching kiss.

You moaned at the sensation of his hard body coming flush with yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist and let him carry you to the bar. He set you down and deepened the kiss.

His hands were everywhere, he ran them up your thighs to cup your ass, pressing your core into his hard dick. You moaned cupping his face in your hands. Good God the man could kiss, that alone set him apart from every other demon you had fed on. You could feel the passion coming off of him, he wanted sex, and he was going to take it.

His hands moved to the front of your corset making short work of the hooks before he pushed it back off your shoulders baring your breasts to him. You laced your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck as he attacked you, drawing a taut nipple into his mouth, a filthy moan spilling from your open lips.

You pushed at the button down shirt he was wearing to get it off his shoulders. He quickly took the hint and ripped it off followed by his t-shirt, only letting go of your nipple long enough to get his shirt over his head.

The man was gorgeous, he was all broad planes and freckled tan skin. You ran your hands over his shoulders and down his back, hooking your heels around his ass to pull him closer to you. You ran your hands back up into his hair pulling it to guide him back to your lips. You were met with solid black eyes as he looked up at you.

“God you’re hot,” you moaned as your lips came into contact with his. You ground yourself shamelessly against the front of him needing more than just the friction. Your hands slid down his chest to his belt, you pushed him back a little bit so you could unbuckle it.

“You in a hurry Princess?” He chuckled nibbling down your jawline. He slid his hands up your back and around to your front to knead your breasts causing your fingers to fumble with the button on his pants.

“I want you Dean, I want to feel you, and I need to taste you.” You growled in his ear finally getting the button on his pants to release. You slid your hand down the front of his boxers to cup his throbbing cock, he was huge and ready.

“I’m all yours,” he moaned as you slid your thumb over his head smearing precum.

“Good,” you nipped at his ear pushing his pants down over his hips.

He nibbled your neck and slowly unbuttoned your pants pulling a moan of protest from you with his leisurely pace. You wanted him now, and it was taking all you had not to sink your teeth into his neck or shoulder. You wanted him to really see how it was to be fed on by the King of Hell’s Princess.

“Hmmm impatient,” he cooed at you reaching down and tugging your boots off one at a time. You watched him drop them to the floor before he hooked his hands in the waistband of your pants. You lifted your hips so he could slide them down your let’s and deposit them on the floor with your boots.

He winked at you, cupping your ass, as he slid your hips to the edge of the bar. He drug the head of his cock through your soaking folds pulling a desperate moan from you.

“So wet,” he whispered looking up at you.

“All for you.” You breathed, rolling your hips.

His eyes flashed green for a slight second before being engulfed in black as he slid himself into your soaking pussy in one thrust.

“Fuck youre tight Princess,” he moaned pausing to let your body adjust to him.

“Please Dean,” you begged circling your hips pulling his face to yours to kiss him.

He clasped your hips in his large hands and slid almost all of the way out to pound back into you. You cried out meeting his thrust begging for more. He found a bruising rhythm pounding into you pulling obscene moans from you. You dug your fingers into his shoulders holding on for the ride, your body winding tighter and tighter as he took you higher.

“Tell me when you are going to cum,” you purred in his ear. You were already so close, you wanted to keep it at bay for a second longer.

“God, I’m close,” he growled grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you in for a hot kiss.

“Good,” you pulled away from him, wrapping your legs tightly around him, you cradled his head in your hand pulling it slightly to the side.

You licked along the column of his throat feeling his pulse under his skin, his rhythm faltering.

“Dean!” You screamed his name as your orgasm hit you hard, you latched onto his shoulder, your teeth breaking the skin. His blood was intoxicating as it flooded your mouth. You felt the heat spread through you pushing your orgasm even higher.

“Fuck!” he cried out thrusting a few more times before spilling himself inside you. You felt his whole body shudder as he pressed his dick as deep into you as he could, wrapping his arms around you, his whole body continuing to shake. You sucked at his shoulder causing him to cry out again as another shudder wracked his body.

You sucked for a second longer, before lapping at the broken skin pulling back, licking your lips.

“Jesus, that was… wow.” His eyes met yours, they were green now. His hand made its way up to his shoulder to finger the bite that was there.

“And you were worried about me biting you.” You smirked a him. “It wasn’t that bad was it?” You asked.

“Is that how it always is?” He looked up at you licking his lips, you would feel him softening inside you.

“If it is done right yes.” You draped your arms over his shoulders, tickling his back with one hand.

“Fuck me.” He chuckled rubbing his nose along the inside of your arm.

“Oh honey, I did.” You winked at him pulling him forward to kiss him. You knew he would be able to taste the ting of his blood on your lips.

“I can tell you, you taste the best by far,” you whispered against his lips. “All passion and power, you’re intoxicating.” You tilted his head with your arm and kissed down his jaw. You felt his dick twitch inside you.

“All you wanted was one bite,” he asked rolling his head back to give you more access.

“Oh no, I want to devour you, I am nowhere near done with you yet Dean.” You chuckled sucking at his pulse point.

There was going to be blood tonight, and he was going to be delicious.

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