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bakugosbratx · 3 years

Note

hmm maybe a yandere katsuki x reader when y/n locks herself in another room and hes trying to talk to her calmly to get her out

Trust Me — Yandere Katsuki Bakugo x Fem! Reader

Warning: 18+ Content. Yandere, Stockholm syndrome, kidnapping, abuse, angst, cursing, etc.

Check out my other fics here

A/N: Now anon 👀 you got my wheels turning. I love me some yandere Katsuki. It’s my weakness. I’m actually going to use a scene that wasn’t used for Beautifully Obsessed for this request so enjoy!

Words: 1.3k

Tags: @awilddreamerwrites @peachsenpie @miriobaby @bakugous-trauma @bakugousbrat @lanarist @milkthistletea @vinny-likes-to-play21 @ssplague @ahbeautifulexistence @m779 @milkshoyoo

“Oh, Y/N.” Katsuki sings aloud, walking along the long hallway of his mansion, hands stuffed in his joggers. “Come out, come out wherever you are.”

Just the sound of his voice being calm sends waves of chills down your spine. Katsuki is not one to be calm. Especially in moments like these. You know it’s all a trap just like the several times before. This time, though, he let you run. All a sick game to stimulate his twisted mind.

You hear his natural heavy footsteps enter the room you are hiding in. It was a guest room that he hardly ever uses. So, you had the bright idea to hide in the closet. You just forgot to close and lock the door like an idiot. This lets Katsuki know you are somewhere in here.

Katsuki loudly sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose after he scans the room. His crimson eyes lock on the closet. “I know you’re in here, Y/N. If you come out now, I will not punish you.”

That is a lie. You both know it is.

You cover your mouth with your trembling hands. Tears dance down your cheeks. You are hoping this is all some terrible nightmare and you will wake up in your bed once again, never knowing Katsuki’s existence just as he should not know yours. Each passing day, though, your prayers are ignored as you see Katsuki’s face. You hated his face.

“One.” Katsuki’s counting begins, breaking you from your thoughts. You hated when he did this. You felt infantilized. You are a grown adult. You never asked to submit to this monster but you have no choice.

“Two.” His footsteps come closer. You did not budge. You are going to get punished regardless of what you do. At least attempt to show you have a backbone.

“Three.” The closet doors fly open to reveal an angry Katsuki. He did not expect you to already be on your feet. Using all of your strength, you attempt to push him away just enough for you to brush past him. Sadly, this was a failure.

Grabbing onto your arm with a strong grip, you still put up a fight. “Let me go!” You demand, squirming with all of your hollow might.

“Y’know, I’m really sick of playing these stupid little games of yours, Y/N.” Katsuki huffed, rolling his eyes as he witnessed you struggle to be released from his grip.

“I’m not playing a game!” You argued. “I want to be free from you!”

Katsuki snorted, seeing you all worked up feeding his inflated ego. “Oh, Y/N. You’re really fuckin’ stupid to think you can live life without me. I protect you from this cruel world. You should be thanking me.”

“Thanking you?” You repeat in disbelief. “You only cause me pain! I hate it here and I hate you!”

Katsuki let go of your arm causing you to stumble onto the ground below. You scramble to your feet, not giving Katsuki the chance to beat you until you learned a lesson. You needed to hide and fast.

The front door is the ideal option, but it is way too far. Plus, knowing Katsuki, it is heavily locked. Your best bet is to hide somewhere else in the house.

Seeing no other option than another room, you find one closest and lock yourself inside. Unfortunately, you picked the one you hated the most. This is the room he locked you in before. The room you deeply despised because of him. Just the sight of the shackles on the bed was causing you to feel nauseated.

Katsuki casually strolls towards the room he knows you reside in. Gently — well, Katsuki’s version of gentle — tapping his knuckles on the wood, he sighs. “Open the door, Y/N.”

“No.” You argued.

“C’mon, this game of yours is really fuckin’ old and I’m tired. Let’s go to bed and forget this shit ever happened, yeah?” Katsuki negotiated.

You refused to answer, still pushing all of your weight against the door to attempt a fighting chance. The lock should be enough to keep anyone out yet with Katsuki’s strength, the lock was nothing but a minor inconvenience.

Katsuki deeply sighed, not even bothering pushing the door down to your surprise. Instead, he walked away, collecting a fresh cold beer bottle from the refrigerator, and making himself comfortable on the floor on the other side of the door. You finally decided to sit as well, bringing your knees to your chin. Your heart raced, unsure of what he was doing. You did not want to let your guard down. Katsuki wants you to do that and you don’t want to give in anymore. You want to be the strong, independent woman you know you can be.

Silence fell over you two. Both of your minds wandered. Katsuki’s alcohol slowly became digested which called for more alcohol. You have not seen him drunk often nor did you want to. If he is abusive sober, you are certain he is an abusive drunk as well.

“Did you mean it?” Katsuki finally spoke. You arched an eyebrow, not sure what the male was speaking of. He sounded buzzed from the consumption of liquor.

“Mean what?” You questioned, your tone barely above a whisper.

“Do you really hate me?”

Something about the way Katsuki’s words flowed swallowed your heart whole. The shaken breath, the shattered tone, and the sentence seeming hard to comprehend. You should hate him. You should want to hurt him just how he hurts you, but just the mere thought of hurting Katsuki hurts your pure soul.

You stared at your trembling limbs, your lip wobbling as well. “No.” You admit.

“Then why did you say it?” Katsuki quickly retorted, a little too aggressive than he intended. The man is hurting. Cut him some slack, Y/N.

You shrugged, though he could not see it. “I-I,” you gulped, “don’t know.”

Katsuki swirled the little liquor left in his bottle with a chuckle. “You don’t know, huh?”

“I mean it, I swear!” You exclaimed, fear striking through your nerves once more. Katsuki leaned the back of his head on the door.

“Calm down, brat. I’m not going to punish you.” Katsuki reassures, drinking what is last of his beer. “Trust me.”

Time passed once more. Silence was overwhelming you both. As much as you would love to come out of the room, you refused to trust Katsuki nor did he trust you. You both do play mind games in your own way. Maybe that’s why Katsuki fell in love with you. You two are very similar yet so different all at once.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s why you love him too.

“Katsuki?” You called with a racing heart, standing up.

“Hm?” He responded.

“If I open the door, will you promise to not punish me?” You pondered, hoping that you are not led by blind hope like so many times before. You wanted out of this room and in all honesty, you wanted to be in Katsuki’s arms. These waves of emotions are so overwhelming. One minute you hate him and the next you crave his embrace.

Katsuki really messed up your mind, huh Y/N?

Katsuki stood up, the alcohol from before slowly fading but still present on the tip of his breath. He jiggled the door knob. “Just open the damn door, Y/N.”

“Promise me first.” You mumbled. You should know Katsuki does not care for your boundaries or promises, but something about this was important to you.

Let Y/N trust you, Katsuki.

Katsuki rolled his tired orbs. “Fine. I promise. Now open the door.”

Hesitant with trembling limbs, you unlock the door to reveal Katsuki on the other side.

©bakugosbratx

#tw yandere #tw yandere themes #bakugosbratx #bakugou katsuki #bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugou #bnha #katsuki bakugō #yandere my hero academia #yandere bakugou #yandere bakugo x reader #yandere katsuki #yandere #yandere bnha #yandere bakugo katsuki #bakugo x female reader #bakugo x you

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celeste-clearwater-06 · 3 years

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Hi! Could I please request headcanons with the Durins, Bofur, Dwalin, Legolas, Elrond and anyone you'd like to add (or take out, sorry if that's too many characters) with a reader that tics? Like sometimes, random sounds slip out of them and they repeat them periodically for like a minute or so? Or sometimes hand movements or little gestures? I feel kinda embarassed of mine, so it would really help me. Thank you (also I read the nail polish headcanons and I loved them, you're amazing!)!

Absolutely!! And don't ever feel embarrassed! You are amazing, beautiful and perfect just the way you are!! Hope this meets up to your expectations! I'm not very familiar with tics and such, (I did a bit of research) so let me know how I did with the writing!

Tics (Thorin's Company x reader)

Thorin

At first, our king under the mountain doesn't know what to think

Surely he didn't hear you squeak...

To be honest, he thought you were doing it to annoy him, since your first interaction, you might have gotten off on the wrong foot 😅

And it wasn't the easiest to explain to Thorin, knowing he can be a tad thick-headed sometimes

It took a while to help him comprehend and had never seen it in your light

He understands now though, and has the most patience you have ever seen

He's never been more understanding to one person, even with his stubborn and sometimes grumpy demeanor

Thorin knows you can't help it, which is why he's instantly overprotective of you

If anyone dares make one comment, he's on their case like CRAZY

"Y/N can not help it, gilthock!"

"If you improperly console with her/him/them again, you'll face the wrath of my kin."

When the company was being chased down by Beorn, your tics were triggered and the great skin-changer could hear you from inside, clawing at the door with fury

You felt terrible, not able to contain the short exclamations and noises slipping from your mouth

But Thorin sent an icy glare to anyone who tried to hush you or tell you to keep it down

He's constantly reminding you that it's not your fault, and has become like a fatherly figure to you... Or perhaps, something more 😉

Fili and Kili

Unsurprisingly, both are also very confused little princes

Fili seems to have a bit more understanding of the seriousness of the situation, or at least maturity

(He is next in line to be king after all)

It took a while for them to adjust, since they'd never met anyone with tics before

One night, as you all sat down by the fire, the company grew a bit rowdy, which became stressful for our poor Y/N

Your tics were triggered easily by then with short yelps, and lines of curses that even made bofur blush

Ofc, you couldn't control it, but since the company had little idea of what was going on

the two brothers were quick to rush to your aid, rubbing a hand on your back as you let out a frustrated groan

"What's wrong with her, Oin?"

"I'm not sure. Is it a curse?"

"Probably dark magic!" Dori gasped

You just shook your head and managed to explain your predicament through tics that annoyed the absolute shit out of you

and embarrassed you as well >:(

After that, the princes were stuck to you like flies to honey

They would always ride their ponies by yours, offer to carry your bags, spend all day cheering you up

And more often than not, you would become less stressed and the thought of your tics would float away in the wind 😌✨

Hell, they even stood up to their own uncle after he continued to press some stressful questions about your unfortunate condition

Even if Fili and Kili are both very aware of the randomness of your outbursts, they still treat you as a normal part of the company

They'd hate for you to feel "out-of-place" as Kili put it, in their traveling party

You are so important to them both, and they'd never let you get hurt

Bofur

Meet Mr. Comedic relief

Whenever Bofur had first met you, he giggled at your little tics

Of course, he'd never meant to make you feel bad, he just thought they were absolutely adorable

Sometimes he playfully teased you about it, and that certainly didn't make you feel better

One night, he had gotten the others in the company to join him in his seemingly harmless jesting,

You just forced out laughter, hoping to convince them that you too, thought it hilarious

But after everyone had fallen asleep by the dying fire, your quiet sobs and tics were what stirred bofur

He came over and asked what was wrong, apparent worry shining in his deep brown eyes

So, reluctantly, you explained why you had little outbursts

Bofur felt awful

"Oh...oh. Oh I'm so sorry lass/laddie/leddie! I never meant any harm!"

He wrapped his huge arms around you in a big bear hug

Bofur never wanted to make anyone feel bad about themselves, especially you (his favorite member of the company 🥺)

"It's okay Bo. It's not your fault that they happen."

It takes a while for you to convince him he's not at fault, and once you do, he's never reluctant to approach you and spark up a silly conversation 😊

He has THE BEST stories

Is very good at keeping your thoughts away from your tics and cheering you up during stressful or upsetting situations

You call him "Bofur-Bear" 🥺

And he adores you so much

He doesn't really know how to react when you have ongoing outbursts, that go on for a minute or two

So he makes really corny jokes and stupidly hilarious innuendos that extract giggles from you while your having an episode

He will never let you go 🥴👉👈

Dwalin

(This Gif is so GOD DAMN FUNNY 💀)

Dwalin is, in some ways, like Thorin

Except 10x more grumpy 🙄

That's okay though, because we still love him 🥰

SUPER confused

At first, he was kinda rude :/

Said it was "disturbing to his duties"

tHAT HURT-

But one night, in the quiet of Rivendell, after everyone else had fallen asleep, you walked around the kingdom to enjoy the peace and tranquility of the elvish land

Dwalin had followed you, and when he called your name, you jumped in surprise, and it sparked a string of swearing

His eyes widened in shock in first, and then some incredible happened

He smiled :)

Just a tiny little grin, that was hardly noticeable under his thick mustache, but a smile nonetheless

"I didn't know ya' could use yer mouth like that."

You grumbled and turned back to the balcony, trying to rid yourself of his company

Regardless, he took heavy steps next to you, and slapped a thick hand against your back, as a friendly gesture

"Why are being so nice to me all of a sudden?" You asked incredulously

Dwalin sighed, but before he could answer, you yelled and slapped your hands against the marble railing

"I hadn't meant ta upset ya' that much."

You just shook your head, and proceeded to describe to him what was really going on

After that, Dwalin was silent, but gave a quick nod

He still needed time to really let the information seep through his thick head

You thought you had scared him off at first, but as your journey continued on, Dwalin actually grew closer than before

Whenever an enemy was nearby, he would look for you first, and place you behind h, out of harms way

Extra dinner? Dwalin made sure you were the first to get second portions, despite your humble protests

He gets teased by the rest of the company, and though he'll never openly admit it, he's grown very fond of you 🥴

He's not really the best at picking up on your social cues, like if he's being way overprotective

Though he tries his best, he also won't can't treat you like a regular person, more like someone who's physically injured

"Come on, Y/N let me carry ya'"

"Dwalin, seriously, I'm fine, I know how to walk-"

*picks you up anyways*

Overall, very sweet, just a bit excessive sometimes 😅❤

I just decided to stick with these few characters if you don't mind, since I have a lot of other requests to fill out, but I hope these are okay!! Thank you for your request, and I hope these were accurate enough 😅🥰

You're amazing, beautiful and never feel ashamed or embarrassed for something you can't control!! Stay strong!! ❤

#thorin oakenshield #thorin oakenshield x reader #xreader #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit #bofur the dwarf #dwarves #dwalin #dwalin x reader #fili durin #kili durin #kili x reader #fili x reader #bofur x reader #peter jackson #headcanons #nervous tics #tourrettes #comfort stuff

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angel-riki · 3 years

Text

Dazed & Dreaming {Ch. 1}

summary: Y/N's life was always quite normal, some may even consider it boring. However, Y/N enjoyed her simple life and the little pleasures it brought. Unfortunately, that all changed the day she found out her best friend's biggest secret. Her discovery leads her down a rabbit hole of a new and confusing world she never knew existed. She must now navigate this new life filled with love, fear, and the supernatural. What awaits her down this path?

pairing: enhypen x reader (vampire au)

warnings: light swearing

word count: 1,435

chapters: [Ch.2] [Ch.3] [Ch.4]

~~~~~~~~~~

The brisk autumn air pricked at your cheeks, making you shiver as you clutched your coat tighter around your body. You picked up your pace as your shoes tapped lightly against the pavement. Walking to school was nice this time of year, you loved the autumn scenery which was full of rich colors and leaves dancing in the wind. Winter on the other hand, was another story. It was also quite pretty, yet much more inconvenient and impractical. However, right now it was a pleasant walk.

Before you know it, you're at the entrance of your school, trudging up the stairs. Oh how you longed to be back in your warm, soft bed, asleep. You begrudgingly continued on your way when you heard a familiar voice ring out,

"Y/N! Wait up!"

You recognize the voice without even needing to turn around, it was Jake. Jake had been your best friend since he had moved here from Australia way back in middle school. He meant the world to you. You've grown so close over the years, he practically knows everything about you at this point. And you know all about him as well. You smiled and waved at the cheerful boy as he jogged to catch up with you. Slightly out of breath and with flushed cheeks, he greeted you,

"Good morninggg!" He drew out the last syllable with a dorky grin on his face. You giggled, he was always so cute without even trying.

"Good morning," you replied, happily.

"Kind of chilly this morning, huh? Did you walk to school again?" He asked.

"Yeah, I did. I always walk to school, you know that," you chuckled at his silly question.

"You knowww," he began,

Oh boy here we go, you thought.

"Heeseung would totally give you a ride to school if you'd like," he stated. Jake had made this offer to you a few times, however, you always declined. Heeseung was a close friend of Jake's yet he was merely an acquaintance to you at best, you would feel bad having him drive you around. Especially since he already gave Jake rides every morning.

Also not to mention, you found Heeseung incredibly attractive and you don't think your heart could handle that...

"No that's okay, I wouldn't want to impose," you politely declined like always. Jake sighed. You were always so considerate, almost to a fault.

"Y/N, Heeseung totally wouldn't mind, he isn't like that, you know." He smiled, trying to convince you to accept the offer. Especially, knowing that winter was just around the corner.

"I know...I just would rather not," you said trying to escape the topic as your cheeks began to heat up. Jake sighed defeatedly and decided to let it go as you both continued your way into the building.

*****

The end of the day couldn't come soon enough as you headed towards your final class; physics. Yay. You've always hated physics and although you were a straight A student, your grades suffered in that class. Thankfully, Jake was quite good at physics and was always happy to help. Over time, he basically became your tutor. You scanned the front board to see what the topic of the lesson was today. Like usual, you couldn't make sense of any of it. God, I wish I had Jake's brain, you thought to yourself.

As much as you tried not to, you ended up tuning out the teacher and his lecture as your mind wandered to anything but physics. Before you knew it, class was over and students began gathering their books and shuffling out of the classroom. Shit. I didn't pay attention to any of that. You mentally kicked yourself for slacking off. Well, at least the school day is over. You headed back to your locker where you saw Jake waiting for you.

"Hey Y/N, how was physics? I know it's your favorite class," he said sarcastically.

"Shut up," you slapped him playfully on the arm, "I actually totally zoned out the whole period. Therefore, I'm lost and you really have your work cut out for you as my tutor," you retorted.

He laughed and shook his head, "Y/N, you're killing me!" He said while jokingly clutching his chest in imaginary pain.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry I should honestly be paying you at this point," you laughed.

"Nah don't worry about it, I'm happy to help," he said. Gosh he's so sweet, you thought. Sometimes you felt like you didn't deserve him. But if you ever dared to say that out loud, you know you would receive an immediate rebuttal from him. Because that's just how Jake is.

*****

*BZZZ* *BZZZ* * BZZZ*

You rolled over and groaned. Ughhh, it's already time to get up? You had stayed up later than usual the night before. You had been facetiming with Jake as he tried to explain your physics homework to you. Unfortunately, it took you quite a while to understand it since you hadn't paid attention in class earlier that day.

Just 5 more minutes...you thought as you lazily snoozed your alarm.

*****

Your eyes fluttered open as you awoke for the second time. Hm, that's weird. Why didn't my alarm go off yet? You grabbed your phone to check the time. You squinted as your eyes adjusted to the bright screen. Oh shit. You had overslept for 45 minutes. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. You mentally cursed at yourself as you scrambled to get ready in half the time you usually do. You frantically threw on your school uniform and hurried to the bathroom to brush you teeth. You gasped as you saw your reflection. You had the worst bed head you had EVER seen. Just my luck. You quickly threw your hair up into a half updo. Guess I'm going for the messy look today. You hurried downstairs and grabbed a granola bar on your way out. You headed down your driveway only to see a car parked on the side of the road right in front of your house. You were a bit confused but as you got closer you were met with two familiar faces. Oh no. This is Heeseung's car. Your stomach did a backflip. Heeseung smiled and gave a small wave as Jake greeted you from the passenger seat,

"Hey, Y/N! Sorry for the surprise, I knew you would never accept the ride but the weather's getting colder and I don't want you to get sick," Jake rambled.

"Jake told me that you walk to school every morning, but I don't mind giving you a ride, it's no problem at all," Heeseung added with a kind smile.

You appreciated the kind gesture, however, you were mortified. Here you were, looking like the hottest mess of the century in front of the hottest boy of the century. This can't be happening. Of all days, why today?!

You smiled meekly, "Wow, uh, thank you that's very kind of you! I guess I'll take you up on that offer since you already went out of your way to come here," you said apologetically. The two boys smiled at you as you opened the car door and climbed into the back seat.

*****

So far, the ride had been fairly quiet until Jake suddenly broke the silence,

"Y/N, did you do something different with your hair?" Jake asked as he turned around to face you.

God, why did he have to bring that up??

"Uh, yeah, I actually woke up late and my hair was a mess so I just tried to make the best of it," you laughed nervously.

"Ohh, well it looks nice!" he complimented.

"Yeah, you look cute." Heeseung added with his eyes still on the road.

You froze. Your brain began malfunctioning as you tried to compute what Heeseung just said. He called me cute. You chuckled anxiously as you felt your cheeks burning up.

"Thank you," you said shyly.

Jake had noticed your abrupt change in body language, which confused him. But then, it all clicked. Oh...She has a crush on Heeseung. He didn't know how he hadn't noticed it sooner. He grinned to himself, amused by his realization. Suddenly, it made sense why you never accepted a ride.

~~~~~~~~~~

Hi, guys! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! I know it was a bit slow, but once the introductory part is out of the way, hopefully things will pick up the pace. Regardless, thank you for reading! I am also uploading this series on wattpad, so if you’d like to support it over there, that would mean a lot! I'm hoping to publish new chapters a couple times a week so keep your eyes peeled hehehe

~Elle <3

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capricorn-stark · 3 years

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Othello

pairing: jason todd x reader, reader is a psych major because i think the concept of psych majors in Gotham is funny lmao

warning: i wrote this at 1 am, kinda short, swearing

a/n: i got strong feelings towards Othello, The Catcher in the Rye, and Jason Todd, but this one’s for @tadpole-san smirk smirk smirk

part 2

You liked studying at Gotham University’s library for the ambience.

Whether or not you got any actual “studying” done depended wholly on your mood and whatever being that may or may not have been watching you from above, but even if you somehow managed to procrastinate the entire time you were there, at least you could walk back to your dorm with the comforting fact that you had gotten in your cardio for the day.

The place itself was gorgeous with its overarching ceilings, long hall lined with pillars supporting a seemingly endless array of books, the cozy golden glow of the lights, and the generally pleasant atmosphere provided by the myriads of students sitting around its tables and lounging on its couches. The entire campus was stunning - but it would only be surprising if it wasn’t thanks to the very generous grants from patrons of the Gotham elite, most notably people like Bruce Wayne.

You had a particular spot you liked near the edge of the library, in a little corner mostly surrounded by shelves with enough space for a few usually-unoccupied couches. Aside from you, the only regulars to sit there mainly just consisted of one other guy who recently had started to drop in every few days or so to listen to music and do his own work. You didn’t mind him - he never bothered you, and you both kept up your mutual solidarity towards maintaining a very comfortable silence.

That was, until one particular day.

“Is that Othello?” You glanced over the book in your hand and saw the guy’s startlingly green eyes gazing right at you over his dark-rimmed reading glasses. He wasn’t wearing his earbuds as per usual, so you figured your agonized sigh of boredom must’ve come out a little too loudly.

“Yeah,” you finally answered, slowly lowering the book a little. “Unfortunately.” He cracked a slight grin at that.

“What, you’re not a fan of Shakespeare?”

“I don’t hate him,” you started with a fairly nonchalant shrug, “I just think this book in particular is just kinda-”

“Boring as fuck?” he finished very eloquently, causing you to grin back despite yourself.

“Yeah. Pretty much.”

“I can agree with that,” he said with a nod towards the book. “Definitely not one of my favorites, that’s for sure. Good premise, dynamics were pretty interesting, but I couldn’t really get into it either.” The fact that he was discussing Shakespeare’s works in a way that suggested he had fully read the book (without wholly relying on CliffNotes) and that he did perhaps genuinely enjoy some of them suggested to you that he was probably an English major. “And Iago was a bitch-”

“I know!” you nearly exclaimed, throwing your hands up in very evident frustration. “Iago was shady as hell, and I don’t get how Othello never saw it coming from him. Like, no one can be that oblivious, come on. I wouldn’t have listened to him.” RIP to Othello, but you were different.

He was actually laughing at that point, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You and me both. You an English major?” You shook your head, holding up your Psychology Twelfth Edition textbook that had been resting on the table beside you.

“Psych.” He raised a brow and you inwardly sighed.

“Jeez - at GU? I’m impressed.”

Being a psych student at your particular Gotham-based university was both a blessing and somewhat of a curse. The classes were phenomenal and your professors consisted of some of the best and most experienced in the nation - but that also came with the downside that the city you lived in had some of the biggest psychopaths and the largest insane asylum in the nation as well.

Well, you win some, you lose some.

“It’s not that bad,” you tried to say, but the smirk playing at his lips proved that you weren’t convincing anyone. ��Let me guess, you’re an English major.”

“What gave it away?” he deadpanned, chuckling regardless as he closed up his own book and extended a hand out. “Name’s Jason Todd. I’ve seen you around a lot, but we never really talked, huh?” You smiled as you reached out to shake his hand, introducing yourself as well.

“I guess not. You usually look like you’re pretty busy.”

“Something like that,” Jason grinned, leaning back against his chair and sliding off his glasses. Without them, the lights somehow gave them an almost glowing effect. “I figured you wouldn’t want me to bother you.”

Bantering over Shakespeare with a cute boy wasn’t exactly your definition of being bothered, so you shook your head.

“Believe me, that was a lot better than Othello was.”

You saw Jason at your spot again the next day, then the day after and the next, lounging across from your couch and always seeming rather out-of-place with his black leather jackets and ripped jeans, but a welcome sight to you nonetheless. And just like that, suddenly, your visits to the library weren’t just for the sake of cardio and the ambience anymore.

He was surprisingly amusing to talk to, whether it was complaining about more books for your respective English courses or just ranting to each other about the struggles of being a student at GU. It was easy to bond over things like getting your midterms interrupted by random threats from the likes of the Riddler, or arguing over whether or not the city’s latest vigilante, some guy named Red Hood, was actually cooler than Batman himself.

He had been particularly passionate about that last debate.

Aside from being easy-going and annoyingly attractive, you also figured out that he was ridiculously smart, especially when it came to helping you with your English course. Whether it was explaining the deeper societal message behind a particular reading or helping you research topics for your thesis, Jason had a knack towards figuring out exactly the things you yourself seemed to struggle with.

“How do you figure all of this out?” You asked one day out of sheer disbelief after he connected The Catcher in the Rye to themes of disillusionment about innocence and one’s childhood, and not just towards the protagonist, Holden, being an ass. “Seriously, I thought I was pretty decent with this stuff, but you blow me out of the water.”

He shrugged it off like it was no big deal, sliding off his reading glasses and setting it on top of the wooden table you were at. You had grown fond of the way they looked on him.

“It’s nothing special,” he dismissed in response, lifting his gaze from the book to fixate it back on you. “You do great by yourself, I just kinda give you a little push with my interpretations.”

He did that a lot - downplaying the fact that he was actually smart as hell like it really was no big deal. The way your grades had started rising after he started helping you out proved otherwise, though.

“Still, thanks for helping me out,” you insisted, eliciting another slight smile from him. “It means a lot.”

“Oh yeah?” His tone had gotten cheekier as he leaned closer to you. “How much is a lot?”

“That’s up for you to decide,” you smirked, moving back and closing up your laptop. “Not me.”

“You know, if you really wanted to thank me, you should get a coffee with me sometime.”

“We get coffee together like every week,” you deadpanned and he sighed.

“Not like that. Like a date.”

It hit you like a truck.

“A date,” you repeated, like you hadn’t heard him the first time.

“Only if you were into that,” he added, trying to play it cool as he moved to pack his things into his bag. “I’m not working tonight, so I thought you might wanna give it a shot.” That was even more surprising, because he always happened to have a mysterious night shift going on. He never told you what exactly that was, aside from off-handedly mentioning something about motorcycles and Crime Alley every once in a while.

You were still letting it process.

“...if you don’t want to-”

“No, no - that sounds great,” you interjected, already starting to smile. At the sight of it, he managed another grin himself, an evident hint of relief flashing across his face.

“Right. Yeah. Cool.” He cleared his throat and shot you another grin as he tossed his bag over his shoulder. “Let’s head out. And I’m telling you right now, I’m not letting your broke ass pay for it.”

“Jason!” you protested as he laughed and nudged your shoulder with his, making you join in despite yourself.

At least Othello had managed to lead you to one good thing.

#pandemonium scrawl #I kinda want to see a fic where he works at like a bookstore or something #will i write it?#lmao who knows #jason is an english major #I like that headcanon surprisingly #jason todd is in college #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #dc comics #dc #reader imagine #dc imagine #red hood #red hood x reader #fluff #college au #kinda cute i guess

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dynyamight · 3 years

Note

meet cute number 47 is interesting!

send me a writting ask

47. Texting the incorrect number but continuing the conversation.

“You got all that, right?” Shinsou asks, readjusting his stance, so others can leave their classroom door easily.

Midoriya hums absentmindedly. He’s still quickly jotting down the last few digits onto his planner. “And, you said tomorrow morning, around 7? At the library?”

“Yeah,” Shinsou shrugs, “Or anytime really. The deadline isn’t until next month, you know.”

“I kinda just want to get it done, as soon as possible.”

Shinsou breathes out a snort. “Figured you’d say that much. Just make sure you got my number. Repeat it, if you need to.”

“No time.” Midoriya drops his bag to the side, shoving his now closed notebook inside. “Thank you! I’ll text you later tonight!” He offers hurriedly, before taking off down the campus halls.

Shinsou’s warning falls deaf to his rushed mind.

He has to run the entire way, in order to graciously catch the last bus for the hour. Sweaty and flushed, Midoriya slumps into his seat in relief. Fortunately, he was able to cop a seat for himself, settling by the window and his backpack right next to him.

Staring out, Midoriya tries to remind himself of the rest of his priorities he needed to do.

He still needed to start on Doctor Chiyo’s online Physiology exam, and gather his notes for the open book portion. It was a bit bothersome to handle tests online, but if the rest of class prefers it, there’s nothing Midoriya can do about it.

Speaking of which, Ochako had requested for copies of those exact same notes, since apparently she barely writes anything during lectures. He wants to suggest to her to just simply take better notes, but alas, he will gladly help her out.

And, finally, Midoriya has to collect reliable, approved research articles for his and Shinsou’s debate, in their argumentative project in Communications. Being assigned “PRO SOCIAL MEDIA INFLUENCE”, while being the most uninvolved people on the internet, Midoriya and Shinsou had a lot of work to do.

Not to mention it was already 18:00 by the time he reached the school’s dormitories. And yet, he needed to shower, make dinner, water his plants, and watch the newest episode of his favorite drama, airing tonight.

University was eating him alive.

Thankfully, he’s able to complete half of his list.

He finishes the exam with a 98%, and quickly snaps the pages of his notes over to Ochako and Iida, making sure to highlight the main topics questioned in the exam. Ochako sends a ‘thank you’ gif, and Iida texts a long, yet endearing message of gratitude.

Midoriya doesn’t have time to shower, instead blasting the TV volume loud, as he waters his indoor plants at the same time. He overwaters them a little bit, busy glancing back at the screen for too long. But, at least he’s able to watch the episode. He pouts when it ends on a cliffhanger, almost drowning his bonsai tree in frustration.

He’s only able to warm up a plate of leftovers, and read through only one research article, by the time it’s already blinking 21:30 on his phone. Sighing, Midoriya closes his laptop and grabs his cell phone instead.

An all nighter wasn’t preferable. But, if Shinsou is working overtime at his late night job, Midoriya supposes he can stay up and keep looking through more articles, until he has at least the required ten.

Flipping open his planner, Midoriya inputs Shinsou’s number into his phone. He adds his name, a contact photo of him sleeping, and finally taps a quick message.

(21:38) < You working?

When Shinsou doesn’t respond right away, Midoriya simply sets aside his phone on his desk. Stretching his arms, he sighs in defeat, now expecting Shinsou to be stuck at work.

He’s never worked at a restaurant, but he bets Friday nights can get pretty busy. And, Shinsou always complains that group outings and dates tend to stay over, even after the place is supposed to close. And, Midoriya trusts his word.

So, by the time his phone dings, Midoriya has been clicking through more articles on social media, bookmarking a few to go over later, as he went.

He lifts his phone, and with a bright screen, a message stares back at him.

shinsou hitoshi (21:58) > Who’s this

Oh, he did forget to specify. But, Midoriya smiles, having a small prank in mind. There was no harm in teasing his friends, let alone Shinsou, who definitely needed a good laugh, now and then.

(21:58) < It's the cutie from your communications class ;)

shinsou hitoshi (21:58) > So, no one

(21:59) < Haha! I guess you’re right about that

(21:59) < Anyways, it’s Izuku! You still working late, Hitoshi?

shinsou hitoshi (21:59) > This ain’t Hitoshi

Midoriya's face drops, blinking. Oh god, did he mistype the number?

(21:38) < Wait, you’re not???

Another text pops up, shortly after.

shinsou hitoshi (22:02) > You got the wrong number

Embarrassment burning his entire face red, Midoriya wishes he could delete himself from the world.

(22:03) < I’m so so so so sorry!

(22:03) < God, I thought I wrote down my friend’s number right

(22:03) < But, I was in this stupid rush to get on the bus that I didn’t make sure

(22:04) < And, listen, if I had missed that bus, I would’ve had to wait

(22:04) < Not like a few minutes wait

(22:04) < Like, a whole two hours wait!

shinsou hitoshi (22:05) > I didn’t ask

Deleting the conversation, Midoriya erases the new contact completely. And instead, he looks back to his planner, and retypes the numbers in his phone onto a new conversation.

Hopefully, he has typed the correct series of digits.

(22:07) < Hey, Hitoshi! It’s Izuku

unknown (22:08) > ...

unknown (22:08) > What the actual fuck

unknown (22:08) > You've still got the wrong number, you goddamn idiot

Slamming his phone onto his desk, Midoriya grabs a pillow off his bed and shoves it in his face. The temptation to scream sounds awfully pleasant, but it’s too late at night to do so. His dorm neighbors would definitely wonder what the hell is wrong with him.

What’s wrong? Oh, he has completely done one of the most dreaded imaginary scenarios in his head; text a complete stranger. Twice.

What was he supposed to do now? Never text back? Delete it? Block it?

How is he supposed to contact Shinsou now?

His phone dings again.

Lifting the pillow off his face slightly, Midoriya eyes his phone warily from his swivel chair.

That definitely wasn’t supposed to happen. Another text from the same stranger sounds a bit unheard of.

After a seconds-long hesitation, Midoriya lifts his phone and opens it once more.

unknown (22:13) > Double check next time

unknown (22:13) > You can fucking wait the two hours, dumbass

Midoriya grows a little irked. He has a bad feeling that his stranger isn’t too friendly, to say that least.

There was literally no reason to text back something so rude.

(22:14) < Well, that wasn’t nice

unknown (22:15) > Wasn’t trying to be

(22:15) < ..Are you always like this?

unknown (22:16) > Pretty much

(22:16) < That’s sad

unknown (22:17) > What’s fucking sad is that I was woken up from my sleep

unknown (22:17) > Because a damn moron didn’t write down the right number

Midoriya winces. He hadn’t even thought about the other person’s predicament, let alone if he had interrupted anything.

(22:20) > I really didn’t mean to do that, I’m sorry :(

unknown (22:22) > Yeah whatever

(22:24) > You should try to go back to sleep, then

unknown (22:25) > I was

unknown (22:25) > But the same moron from before keeps texting me

(22:27) > Who?

(22:33) > Oh.

(22:33) > It’s me, huh?

unknown (22:34) > No shit

(22:35) > Right, of course. My bad!

(22:35) > I’m going to just stop now

unknown (22:36) > Thanks

(22:36) > For the umpteenth time, sorry! ><

(22:37) > Okay, Okay! I’m stopping now, for real

Midoriya desperately needs to call it a night.

After going through his nightly routine, he slips under his bedsheets, exhausted. He sets an alarm for 5:00 on his phone, hoping Shinsou will show up at the library, regardless of the missing confirmation text on Midoriya’s end.

He keeps his phone on awhile longer, swiping through his professors’ emails, before a surprising text notification pops in front of him.

unknown (23:01) > FUCK YOU FUCK YOU

(23:02) > …

(23:02) > What was that for??

unknown (23:04) > I CAN’T SLEEP

unknown (23:04) > GOD, I CAN’T GO BACK TO FUCKING SLEEP

unknown (23:05) > AND IT’S YOUR FAULT

(23:06) > What do you expect me to do????

unknown (23:07) > HAHAHAHA OH DON’T WORRY

unknown (23:07) > IF I CAN’T SLEEP, NEITHER CAN YOU

unknown (23:08) > AND IF YOU TURN YOUR PHONE OFF I WILL SEND HELLFIRE

(23:09) > Wait

(23:09) > No, please

(23:09) > My alarm is on my phone, I need it on

(23:10) > I need to go to an important meeting for a group project at 7:00!

unknown (23:10) > Aw, really? :0?!

(23:11) > Yeah! I really do!

unknown (23:11) > Sike. I don’t fucking care

unknown (23:12) > Hope you eat shit tomorrow

(23:13) > ..Why are you like this?

(23:13) > I could literally be a twelve year old, for all you know

unknown (23:14) > I doubt fucking twelve years do group projects

unknown (23:15) > But whether you’re a damn infant, or grown adult, I hate you

(23:16) > I wouldn’t say I hate you. That’s too harsh

(23:16) > But, wow, you are very unlikable :/

unknown (23:17) > That’s the fucking nicest thing anyone has said about me

(23:18) > It wasn’t supposed

(23:19) > Nevermind.

(23:19) > Do you have any friends? Just might as well ask

unknown (23:21) > Surprisingly yeah

(23:22) > Oh, so you also agree. That it’s a surprise

(23:22) > At least you’re self aware :0

unknown (23:23) > Yeah, they are annoying as hell

unknown (23:24) > But, also pretty good people, I guess

(23:25) > Pretty good or pretty dumb?

unknown (23:26) > SHUT IT

unknown (23:27) > Only I can make fun of them

unknown (23:27) > You. Don’t.

(23:28) > You’re right, I shouldn’t have said that

(23:29) > I’m sorry :(

unknown (23:30) > You like apologizing, huh

(23:29) > There’s a lot to apologize for tonight

unknown (23:30) > Still, you don’t have to say it every damn minute

(23:32) > You probably don’t ever apologize

unknown (23:33) > Fuck no

(23:35) > Right, of course

(23:36) > Well, you know what I need to do tomorrow

unknown (23:37) > Unfortunately

(23:38) > What about you?

unknown (23:39) > I’m covering a shift at my shit job at the ass crack of dawn

(23:40) > Unnecessary visual, but I digress

(23:40) > Uh, where do you work?

unknown (23:42) > No. I don’t even know your damn name

(23:43) > I told you?? It was in my first text

unknown (23:44) > Yeah, I ain’t scrolling

(23:48) > Well, it’s Izuku. Midoriya Izuku :)

unknown (23:49) > Great. I still ain’t giving you mine

(23:50) > ?? Is there anything I can know about you??

(23:50) > You know more about me, than I do about you

unknown (23:51) > You know I hate you

unknown (23:51) > That’s plenty

(23:52) > But, I have been staying up for you :(

unknown (23:53) > Because it’s your fault I can’t sleep

(23:54) > You aren’t feeling sleepy yet?

unknown (23:56) > ..Are you

(23:57) > I asked you first

unknown (23:58) > I asked you second

(23:59) > That

(23:59) > Look, it’s almost midnight

(24:00) > Oh, now, it’s actually midnight

unknown (00:01) > I have fucking eyes. I can see the time

(00:02) > And we BOTH have places to be tomorrow

(00:02) > So, let’s just sleep. Call a truce, please

unknown (00:03) > What about my petty retribution

(00:04) > PLEASE LET ME SLEEP

unknown (00:10) > FUCK

unknown (00:10) > FINE

unknown (00:11) > I STILL CAN’T SLEEP BUT WHATEVER

unknown (00:12) > HOPE YOU FUCKING OVERSLEEP TOMORROW

The rest of the night, Midoriya hears his phone go off, but he doesn’t bother to open the messages. Fortunately for him, the time staying awake quickly catches up to his body, the moment he shuts his eyes. And, in an instant, he falls asleep, heavy.

However, he’s jolted awake by the ringing of his phone, the tone alerting him of an incoming phone call. Banging his head on the headboard, Midoriya blindly grabs and answers his phone. “Uh, H-Hello?” He blurts quickly.

“Tch.” A low voice emits, “You owe me, Deku.”

Click. The phone call ends.

Confused, Midoriya hurriedly rubs his eyes open. Running his messy curls through his fingers, he lifts his bangs up, in order to correctly look at the time.

The time was 5:10. And, his 5:00 alarm had been off the entire time.

And, instead, that same unknown number from last night was his saving grace.

#star responds #MY FIRST TEXT FIC??? WOW #i kinda struggled with how i wanted to format the texts #but alas here it is #poor midoriya smh next time repeat the numbers back #never wake bakugou up from his 8PM to 6AM sleeps LMAO #i hope this was okay !!#bakudeku #tigridiae #my beloved #FICLET

53 notes · View notes

hockeywhy · 3 years

Text

lights out (1); t. konecny

PART 2 WARNINGS: language, smut. WORD COUNT: 5.7k

You [attachment: photo taken in what appears to be a dimly lit room. The image is taken from the nose down, mouth slightly open and evidently smiling, two fingers pushed down against your tongue. A white shirt hangs off your shoulders around your elbows, revealing a cage bra, the straps and lining black and the orange lace of the cup sheer.]

You bet you wish you were here now

You released a small sigh, sliding down the headboard of your bed until you felt the plush pillows behind your head again. For a while, you stared blankly upwards at your ceiling, your phone held loosely in one hand while the other rested against your stomach, fingers tapping idly against the exposed skin.

It had only been around a month since you allowed your friendship with Troy to develop into something a little more than that, but less than a relationship should be. You have known him almost for as long as you could remember, going way back to the days when the two of you would be made to stand side-by-side for photographs while your families cooed over how adorable you looked. Had anyone told you that years down the line you and Troy would be exchanging messages meant for each other’s eyes only, you would’ve laughed at them, spun on your heel and walked away. He never once struck you as someone you would even consider dating, much less send semi-naked photos of yourself to for the simple fact that Troy was a friend and nothing else. Not once did you even bother sparing a thought to the possibility of liking him beyond that but, well, coming to think of it, you still didn’t. And you were pretty sure he thought the same but occasionally, desperate times called for desperate measures.

Measures which just simply happened to coincide with word floating about Travis possibly keeping a relationship away from public eyes.

Your brother being traded to the Philadelphia Flyers coincided with your own college admission in the city roughly three years ago and you’d guess it was almost just as long since you started carrying a torch for Travis. If spectators got to see him as a dynamic, feisty, valuable for the team yet annoying for others sort of player, you got to know him as a laidback, funny, endearing and…well, occasionally annoying guy though apparently, only towards you. As if drawn to him by some invisible force, you found yourself in his vicinity often enough and it seemed that Travis welcomed it as an opportunity to tease you one way or another. You gave as good as you got though, and admittedly, that also helped you keep your feelings in check a little. Or at least, enough to never give even the smallest of hints to those around you that you might have a thing for Travis. Tolerate him, sure. Hold a genuine conversation by resisting the temptation to push each other’s buttons, no way. If, behind closed doors in the privacy of your own room, you wondered what it’d be like to have him next to you and occasionally, allowed that idea to take on an entirely different meaning while sliding a hand between your legs, then that was for you to know only.

When you caught wind of the rumor that Travis may have finally, finally found someone at last, it was as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice-cold water, cubes and all, on you. Of course, there wasn’t anything more to whatever weird back-and-forth the two of you had going. After all, the two of you were fully grown adults not five-year olds who pushed each other around in the playground by way of saying hey dummy, I like you. Part of you expected that to come at some point. Travis was handsome, young and successful, and you were witness to numerous instances in which he was approached by girls who wouldn’t hesitate to press their numbers scribbled on napkins or small pieces of paper in his hand. It was only a matter of time until one of them caught his eye and it was painfully obvious that person wouldn’t be you. There wouldn’t be a chance, anyway. Too weird with your older brother on the team, probably. And besides, you couldn’t see yourself as being his type. Regardless of how often you tried making a conscious effort of not comparing yourself to others, nagging thoughts starting with I wish I had or I wish I was or Maybe I should too still crept up on you now and then. Sure, you were plenty confident in yourself: personality, looks, individuality, but you could see little of yourself in the girls who Travis let his eyes linger on a moment longer than maybe necessary before pocketing their number.

Troy was, for the lack of better word, convenient and not that awful of a distraction from Travis. Initially, you wanted to feel bad for thinking of him as such, but it quickly became clear to you that what Troy wanted was nothing more than someone he could count on for some release every now and then. So, really, you carried your fair share of convenience also.

You casually dated since starting college, but you couldn’t bring yourself to trust anyone as much as you trusted Troy to get to the level where you’d exchange nudes. Perhaps it had something to do with the two of you being friends for so long, but you also knew that if you ever wanted to call it quits with Troy, you’d be able to go back to how you were before. Simple as that. No way would he ever reveal anything you sent him to anyone. Troy proved his honesty and ability to keep to his word on several occasions, and that was more than enough for you.

Your phone vibrated and you blinked rapidly several times, pulling yourself away from your thoughts. Lifting the device above your face, you unlocked it and pressed the message notification, focus zeroing in on the response.

Travis is this your way of getting me to agree with you and say that this party really is boring?

A quiet giggle left your mouth but in the next second, you would swear you actually heard your breathing being cut short. You scrambled up on the bed and in your haste, almost dropped the device on the floor. As if someone had suddenly intruded, you pulled the shirt up on your shoulders and gripped the material tightly around you, bunching it up in your free hand to hide your torso. The seconds during which that happened, you could swear you read wrong or were imagining things. Surely…surely you just didn’t click into the wrong messaging thread, right? Right. That’d have to be it. You breathed in, then out. In, then out once more and looked at your phone again. As you did, it vibrated again, indicating a new message.

Travis if that’s the case, it’s working

It couldn’t be. You weren’t that careless. You always made an even greater effort of double checking the contact you clicked into whenever you messaged Troy, except… Except you were a little distracted this time around. Distracted and somewhat excited, truth be told. It’d been a while since the two of you have had the opportunity to get together and during this time, your conversations were of the ordinary sort: general comments about campus gossip, heated agreements about surely written exams were an outdated method of testing.

Your hands visibly trembled and you tried to steady yourself by inhaling deeply before daring to scroll just a little further up on the screen. There wasn’t any real need for that though: your photo was in clear view, not in the message thread you had with Troy but the message thread you had with Travis. Because he was the last person you messaged. Because he was the one who asked if you’d also be joining them for a get-together your brother organised at a venue often frequented by the team. Because maybe all you saw were the first two letters of the name and decided that was about as far as your concentration could manage before sending the photo. In hopes of getting a different type of attention from Troy at the time, you messaged Travis back to say that unfortunately, they ‘won’t benefit from my wonderful presence tonight, much as I know that’ll make things boring but try to find a silver lining if you can’.

“Fuck,” you whispered, squeezing your eyes shut momentarily as if that’d help erase what you’d done.

What you saw behind your eyes, however, wasn’t stars but Travis’ own messages relayed back to you over and over like blinding Times Square ads. You had to blink several times to clear your vision when you opened your eyes again, looking down at your phone to re-read them. As if, again, in your haste you’d done something wrong like misread what he responded with. It was there, though, on your screen – clear as day. You frowned.

You could think of a hundred different ways in which Travis could have responded to that – or even, not bothered with a response and save all the awkwardness for the next time you’d both be under the same roof. You read that back to yourself and it sounded less like what the fuck are you doing and more like now you have my attention. But that couldn’t be it… Had he not paid attention to the display name, hooked in simply by the photo alone? You wouldn’t put it past him. Or anyone else who’d be on the receiving end of photos like that, really. The selfie was suggestive in a way that invited action to try and get a better sneak peek. Maybe Travis hadn’t even checked to see who it was coming from. And besides, what about the rumors of him seeing someone? There couldn’t be smoke without fire, and you lived by that.

You shit, sorry! wrong person

You do me a favor and forget this happened

Not your smoothest moment, you had to admit but it’s as if your brain had short-circuited. You had to direct most of your attention and effort in trying to not read too deeply into Travis’ response. As if you reeled him in. As if he were willing to allow it to happen and wanted more. It couldn’t be because at no point did he leave anything to the imagination that he might have a thing for you. All the teasing, all the back-and-forth, there was never anything more to it than what was on the surface. Besides, something told you that if there was even the smallest chance of Travis having a thing for you, he would’ve made it fairly clear. He was anything but shy. Definitely not the sort of person to beat around the bush, regardless of whether you were the younger sibling of a teammate or not. Maybe he was just surprised. Yeah, that had to be it.

When your phone vibrated again, it wasn’t just a short notification for a new message. It vibrated and vibrated until you registered that actually, it was a call.

“Hey,” you answered, voice a little raspy. Your mouth felt dry, throat scratchy.

“You’re asking a lot from me,” came Travis’ response. On his end, you could just barely make out the muffled sound of thudding bass-heavy music. “Who were you going to send that to if not me, doll?”

The pet name sent a rush of heat all the way down to your belly. Much as you didn’t want to, you knew you’d end up playing that back to yourself for days to come. Regardless of how much you tried to direct your feelings elsewhere, Travis always found a way to weasel back to being at the center of your attention. Or better said, you found a way to put him back there, but it was easier to deal with the idea if you blamed it on him. It was equal parts pitiful and desperate to carry a torch for him for so long, knowing damn well nothing good would come out of it.

“Just a friend,” you responded, fingers tightening around the material of your shirt. “Travis, please—”

“I’m just a friend, aren’t I?” he interrupted, emphasizing his words in such way that he sounded almost…spiteful. “You still wearing that?” he added, a little lighter this time around.

“Travis.” His name fell from your mouth the way a plea would: whispered, urgent, tight.

“Only a simple question, Y/N, all you’ve gotta do is answer it.” You were ready to respond, but Travis added, “and then I’ll forget about it.”

You glared at the wall across from you. “Sounds a hell of a lot like blackmail to me,” you said without heat because suddenly, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. Saying yes, you were still wearing that. Yes, you still looked exactly as your photo indicated you did, all delicate lace and glossy lips. Minimal effort from your part that always seemed to do the trick for boys like Troy. For boys in general because most were easy to hook in like that. “Yes,” you finally admitted, and you were surprised by how confident your voice sounded.

In your ear, Travis hummed thoughtfully. “Is it a matching set?”

You can’t help the small, breathless laugh that slipped from your mouth. It doesn’t take away from the fact that your hands were shaking, but it releases some tension from your shoulders. It was all it took for you to realize you wanted to cling to this, if even for just a few more minutes. “The second photo would’ve been the one to answer that.”

A small pause followed during which you could hear the bounce of what sounded to be wood against wood and then, the unmistakable fiddling of a metal latch catching. “Tell me about it instead. If you want.”

You wanted. You wanted so much that for a moment, his request made your breath hitch. Pressing your lips together into a tight line, you cast a glance towards your reflection caught in a tall mirror resting just opposite your bed. Unconsciously, you loosened your grip on the shirt and you shrugged the material off your shoulders again, tentatively as if you were being watched while doing so. The dim yellow lamp at the side cast a warm glow across the entire room which seemed to amplify the entire picture: you in the middle of your bed, legs bent at the knees and slightly spread to reveal a little of the thin lace material of your panties that left little to the imagination. You swallowed quietly, falling back against the pillows, eyes fluttering shut. There’d be no going back from this, you knew that, and you knew Travis was well aware of it also. But you could see his face behind your eyes, could easily recall the intensity of your feelings towards him and you heard the pet name he used just moments ago bouncing around in your mind incessantly. It didn’t just make heat crawl along the expanse of your skin. It made you actually throb for him.

“It’s not the usual red lace or black silk, but I could help myself when I saw it,” you admitted quietly, no lie in your words whatsoever. “It’s more memorable. More unique. Kind of reminded me of your alternative jersey, coming to think of it.”

On the other end, Travis sighed a long, low sigh. “You thought about it when you saw it?”

I thought of you, you think, but what you said instead was, “orange and black is a surprisingly good combination. That, and it was also one of the simpler sets. Made for taking off quickly, no hassle.” You could swear you could hear the pounding of your heart in your own ears. “Doesn’t need to all come off, though. I’m a panty pulled to the side sort of person if we’re short on time.” You swallow quietly, pulling in your lips a little to run your tongue across them. “Are we?” you asked quietly.

“A little,” Travis responded after a short moment of silence. His voice sounded a little weak; worn. “Panty pulled to the side sort of person, huh? Wouldn’t have pinned that on you.”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures, Travis. Don’t tell me you didn’t at least think about that before,” you encouraged, thighs pressing together. “Wanting someone so much, so desperately that there’s no time to take all clothes off. Push them down on the bed, against a door…wherever it is you are just to get a little taste. I did. I do,” you admitted, turning a little to the side, eyes falling shut, all and any form of shame flying out the window. Might as well enjoy it. “I think about someone seeing me like this, wanting me so badly that that they can’t even bring themselves to take it all off. All it’d take with a little number like this is a pull to the side. It’s fucking sexy. Did you ever think about it?”

You heard him draw in a shaky breath and a moment later, the sound of metal and clothes being fumbled with joined as background noise. You closed your eyes and imagined him in a cubicle, tugging on the buckle of his belt, pulling on the zipper of his jeans, pressing a palm against his length to add that extra bit of much needed pressure. The idea of him growing hard for you, because of you, in a public place was nothing short of arousing.

“Often,” came his response, voice gravelly in your ear. “That time you came along for the party at the end of our summer training camp, I thought about taking you away from all those people to a place where it’d be only us two. Thought about it again a couple of weeks ago when we went out to celebrate that win, remember? I thought, what would it look like if I took you in the nearest restroom, locked it and fucked you in front of one of these mirrors? What would you look like with my hand between your legs? How would you feel like?” he questioned and, when you didn’t respond to him immediately, too caught up in the fantasy he was helping build in your mind, demanded, “tell me”.

Your hand was caught between your thighs, fingers brushing against your panties and there was no denying how wet you were becoming. “’m wet,” you whispered, turning your head slightly more into your pillow while pressing the heel of your hand against your clothed clit, circling it over your panties. “Travis, just… Just thinking about it makes me so wet.”

Travis hummed a small, satisfied hum and you heard him release a low exhale. “Do me a favor, doll. Bring your hand up to your mouth and wet your fingers. Make them nice and slick, okay? It’s what you were doing in your photo, no? Do it properly this time,” he instructed.

You withdrew your hand from between your legs with difficulty and once you did, you whined at the loss of contact. But you were weak for the guidance Travis was giving you and you did as you were told. You brought your hand up to your mouth, taking your index and middle fingers in the heat of your mouth and without hesitation, your tongue swirled around them, ensuring they were as wet as you were told they should be.

All the while, Travis continued speaking in your ear. “Think of my mouth when you touch yourself with them, doll. Think about how willing I’d be to get on my knees for you to get a taste of you. Come on, touch yourself for me,” he encouraged gently. When you removed your fingers from your mouth, you released them with a ‘pop’ sound that had Travis groaning into the phone, the noise sending another rush of heat across your body, goosebumps forming over it. “Panties to the side, doll. Just like you like it, okay?”

You hummed in agreement and did as you were told. You lifted your top leg just enough for you to be able to push the lace aside and when you dragged your wet fingers between your folds, you shuddered, moan muffled into the pillow. With your eyes closed, it was easy to picture Travis kneeling between your spread legs, tongue flat against your core, dragging upwards and downwards in slow languid strokes. You knew your fingers couldn’t compare but the sound of his heavy breathing into the phone meshing with your own breathless, almost restrained groans helped push your fantasy further.

“Bet you’d taste so good on my tongue, doll,” Travis whispered just as the tips of your fingers pressed against your clit, causing you to curl forward a little as a small whimper slips from your mouth. He chuckled, although it sounded strained to your ears. “Right there. That’s the spot I’ll circle back to time and time again just to hear you cry out for it. Quietly though. Remember there’s a bunch of people just outside the room. Can’t let ‘em know what we’re doing behind closed doors, okay? Seeing you so worked up, so wet… We’ll need to keep that for my eyes only, yeah?”

You nodded, belatedly remembering he couldn’t see it so you whispered a “yes” as you circled your clit, adding pressure and removing it the moment stars began dotting your vision. “God, Travis, I wish I could…just want to feel you inside.”

“And you will,” he promised. “I’d want to be inside you too, so of course you will. I’d want to use my tongue first though. Get as much of you in my mouth as possible so that I’ll remember how you taste. You know what to do, doll. Tell me how it feels.”

You did. Slowly, you guided your hand down to the center of your heat, pushing a finger inside you. You did so with ease yet you still sighed in relief at the warmth surrounding you. “It feels so good, Travis,” you sighed, curling your finger upward tentatively and your breath caught in your throat. “Oh god, it feels so fucking good. All because of you.”

You pushed part of your face into the pillow as you added a second finger, slipping it in with ease as a result of how wet you’d become and with every upward push, you rubbed the heel of your hand against your clit. The sensation, coupled with Travis’ heavy breathing in your ear, was heady. Knowing he was on the other end touching himself to a fantasy the two of you shared, knowing you were in his mind as much as he was in yours while doing that pushed you just that much closer to the edge.

“Travis, I’m gonna…ah, I’m gonna come,” you muttered, words leaving your mouth in a muffled slur. “Fuck, I’m so close…”

“You’re doing so well, doll. I want to hear you when you do, okay? Don’t hold back. I need to hear you,” he emphasized.

You were nothing if not obedient at the best of times and this, well this was one of the best times you’d ever gone through. All it took was just a few more thrusts of your hand, fingers finding that right spot and pressing against it continuously while your thighs closed around your wrist for extra tightness and finally, finally you called out Travis’ name followed promptly by an unrestrained cry. Your hips bucked unconsciously against your palm, trying to ride out your orgasm as much as you could and when you slowly withdrew from your core, you brought your glistening fingers up to your mouth. You didn’t lick them clean, opting instead to suck on them so that Travis knew exactly what you were doing. He did. You could tell by the way he let a curse slip from his mouth and when you took your hand away from your mouth, you did so with a satisfied hum.

“Good girl,” he praised, evidently straining.

Whether it was your heightened sensitivity, his words or a mix of both, the same dull white-hot heat crawled across your already warm skin. You allowed yourself an extra moment to compose yourself before the idea struck you as soon as your limbs ceased feeling like jelly.

“I want to ride you, Travis,” you declared pushing yourself on your knees. You shrugged out of the shirt entirely, discarding it somewhere on the side of your bed and pulled one of your pillows lower down the mattress. “Imagine that. I’d be so warm for you, still so wet and loose. Bet I could take all of you at once,” you said, pitching your voice to a more playful though undoubtedly teasing tone. You pulled your panties to the side again before lowering yourself down on the side of the pillow, straddling it. “There’d really be no better time than now for you to be inside me properly, baby.”

“Fuck,” he bit out sharply and you heard the unmistakable sound of him spitting into his hand. And well, wasn’t that a thought?

You chuckled in response. “You’d let me fuck myself on you however I want to, right? I’ll start off slow. You already made me come once, so gotta take it nice and easy,” you told him, rolling your hips gently against the pillow between your legs. Still pretty sensitive, the friction of the cotton made you tremble when you rolled your hips against it, almost losing your balance but you managed to support yourself just in time by pressing your free palm against the headboard. “Ha… I’d feel so good around you, Travis. You know I would. And it’s all thanks to you,” you praised softly, moving your hips back and forth against the pillow. “I swear, I’ll end up thinking of how good you made me feel for days to come. I’ll think of you for nights to come.”

On the other end of the line, Travis groaned. “Only me,” he demanded and there was so much clarity in his tone that for a moment, you thought that was something he meant even outside of the heat of the moment.

“Only you,” you confirmed and knew there would be no lie in that whatsoever. “Who else do you think would get me to fuck against a fucking pillow, Travis?” A breathless, exhausted laugh left his mouth and you leaned forward, resting your forehead against the cushioned headboard. You could feel yourself approaching that very same edge again with every roll of your hip, every brush of the soft material against your sensitive clit and you had to bite down on your lip to hold back a shaky whimper. “Wish you were here though… I’d prefer you underneath me rather than a pillow. Doubt it appreciates the roll of my hips as much as you would, don’t you think?”

“Fuck, I’d be there in an instant if I could,” he agreed, voice tight. You’d bet anything his jaw was clenched, biting back on the back of his teeth.

One thing was for certain: occasionally, Travis made his emotions clear so easily, you could even read him over the phone. A part of you was focused on the way you ground your hips down against the pillow though you paid as close attention to the noises Travis was making; he didn’t deprive you of them. It was only as he hissed into the phone that it dawned on you just how unfair it was you couldn’t also see him. Couldn’t even think of the sort of expressions he was making solely because you knew the reality would just be so much better than what your mind could conjure through the haze of the moment. Frustrated, you rocked your hips against the pillow quicker, eyebrows furrowing a little as you whimpered at the friction. It wasn’t enough. It simply wasn’t enough. If anything, it was only adding fuel to a fire you hadn’t even managed to come close to at least dimming, if even a little bit.

“Travis, I’m close—fuck, I’m so—”

“I know, doll. Fuck, I know,” he said shakily and your name fell from his mouth gruffly, accompanied by a rough, drawn out moan that you knew would haunt you for as long as possible.

You fell forward against the headboard, blinking slowly as you stared down at the disheveled sheets. Vaguely, you could make out a small voice at the back of your head chastising you for needing to replace them even if you’d just changed them earlier in the day. And then, clearly, a louder, more rational voice suddenly snapped you to attention as the magnitude of your actions came at you like a bullet speed train with no breaks to hold it back. You swallowed quietly, heart hammering against the cage of your ribs. The feeling of frustration cleared the heavy post-orgasm fog fairly quickly and you wanted to yell. To scream and wish there was a way to turn back time.

This wasn’t how your evening was supposed to go. You weren’t supposed to be straddling a pillow, half naked with Travis’ heavy breathing in your ear after he guided you through two orgasms. Whatever it was you felt for him should’ve remained locked off in a box at the back of your mind, guarded by the loudest warnings possible so you knew never to touch. And yet here you were, past the blaring sirens, flashing neon lights and spray painted ‘STAND BACK!’ warnings and into a corner of your mind that now had Travis’ moans and the way he spoke your name recorded second by second.

“Fuck,” you whispered quietly, lips pressed against your forearm. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Y/N, listen to me—”

“No. What the fuck? Travis, what the fuck did we—did I do?” In a flash, you scrambled off the bed but found you didn’t even know what to get started on. Ripping off the bedsheets? Reaching for the discarded shirt to cover yourself with as if that’d undone what was said and done? “Travis, you promised,” you said suddenly, vaguely recalling his words from earlier. “You said you’ll forget about it.”

On the other end of the line, you could just barely make out the sound of a roll of tissues being spun and then, a few seconds later, water being flushed. “You’re freaking out on me and you need to take a deep breath, okay?” Travis instructed.

You shook your head, to hell with whether he could see that or not. “No, no, you don’t understand—Travis, this shouldn’t have—It shouldn’t have happened.”

“Listen. Listen, Y/N,” he insisted more loudly when you were about to interrupt him. “And I will, okay? If it makes you feel better I can just… I’ll forget about it, okay? It didn’t happen if that’s what you want from me.”

“Okay,” you said, tone neutral. You ceased your pacing but didn’t stop from casting a glare towards your bed as if it was the very thing that pushed you to do what you’d done. “Okay. That’s—yeah. Yeah, let’s forget about it,” you concluded tightly, vehemently trying to deny to yourself that the head you felt behind your eyes wasn’t the telltale sign of approaching tears and rather it was…shame. “Thanks. Uh. Look, Travis, I have to go. I have to… I have something to do.” He didn’t respond for so long that you thought the call had ended. You had to take the phone away from your ear to check the seconds were still ticking upwards and when you noticed they were, you frowned. “Travis?”

“What are your plans?” he questioned, tone neutral.

Nothing aside from stripping my bed bare again and then taking a long, cold shower in hopes of not thinking about how you sounded like moaning in my ear, you thought. What you said instead was, “just”.

More silence. Again, you had to double check the call didn’t cut. “You meeting that friend of yours?”

“Which one?” you asked, genuinely confused and then it dawned on you: Troy. The guy who should’ve been in Travis’ position instead. “Oh. Uh. Maybe…maybe not. It’s pretty late, so…”

“Okay. Good. Yeah, good thinking. Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe don’t send photos like that next time. To anyone. Just in case the wrong person gets them again,” he suggested and there was a certain sharpness to his tone you couldn’t quite put your finger on. It wasn’t a demand, but it sure sounded like it cocooned in a half-hearted excuse. “Can’t be too careful these days.”

You swallowed, teeth clenching. Without thinking of it, you blinked rapidly several times and yeah, there they were. Those tears that’d threatened you only moments ago. You wished you could pour a bucket of ice over your feelings for Travis and wipe your hands clean of them instead of trying to distract yourself from them instead of searching for a convenient fuck and in turn, becoming a convenient fuck.

“I’ll pay closer attention next time, then,” you said by way of goodbye and ended the call before he could get another word in.

Across from you, a framed photo of just you and Travis taken during the previous summer vacation was staring up at you. His arm was thrown around your shoulders, trying to reel you in just a little closer despite the look of disgust on your face while he held up a fish by its hook in his other hand, head thrown back with laughter at your reaction. In two short strides, you lowered it face down on the dresser before rushing into the adjoining bathroom.

Regardless of how well you scrubbed your skin clean of all evidence to what you’d done, there was no soap and water that could wash away Travis’ praise and pet names. Certainly nothing that could remove the memory of how your name rolled off his tongue while at the height of his pleasure.

#travis konecny #travis konecny imagine #travis konecny fic #nhl imagine #nhl fanfic #nhl fic #*#lol i forgot what the tags are #so i hope these work 🙃#aa feistykonecny url o7 gonna miss ya buddy lol #me: i'll re-edit this properly before posting!!!#me actually: *rearranges a few commas* :)

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azucanela · 3 years

Text

chapter ii

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

warnings: cursing. mentions of a bomb.

word count: 3k

summary: the internet is enamored with the idea of y/n l/n and bakugou katsuki, two renowned pro heroes, dating. the first issue? the pair rarely interacts. the second issue? apparently, they hate each other, not that anyone knows about that bit. of course, after one night of many mistakes, the whole world knows.

series masterlist

THE MEETING WAS NOT SUCCESSFUL. AT ALL. Or at least, that’s how it seemed in Y/N’s eyes. Seeing as the only thing that had come out of it was… spending more time with Bakugou. Which was the opposite of what she wanted to do at the moment seeing as she despised him. Y/N actually had a feeling that any further interactions with Bakugou would only end in more chaos. So, Y/N decided she would set to work, as she would any other day.

Ignore the problem until it goes away, right?

Slipping on her hero costume feels like a chore, pulling the gloves of her suit on with a grimace. They only served as a reminder of her inability to fully control her ability— though Y/N was known as someone with some of the most impressive quirk control. There was always that underlying feeling, of course that feeling never belonged to her. It had always been hard, shutting out the emotions of others, Y/N had found that those who feel the most strongly were the ones she would avoid.

Clearly she had failed.

Regardless, those emotions tended to be distracting as she went about her day. Y/N had learnt to ignore them, to block them out for periods of time, but in a career like hers it was unavoidable. The pain, the rage, the panic, the pure feeling of fear. It could get overwhelming and that often put her at a disadvantage. Emotions were viewed as a weakness, and oftentimes allowing your emotions to get the best of you resulted in unnecessary deaths. But allowing the emotions of others to do so?

It got even worse when she actually activated her quirk to its fullest extent. With a single touch, she could utilize the abilities of a person— all their abilities. When it came to quirks, if you controlled your quirk well, so could she. Otherwise, she would adapt the skills of a person, their intelligence, their athleticism, even their hobbies. Y/N could even the fact that she’d made it through UA to this ability. After all, she’d never been athletic, but her classmates had been.

But her setback had always been a pain, especially in battle, Y/N felt the pain of whoever’s quirk she mimicked. If they were shot, Y/N felt it as if she had been shot as well. She’d never experienced someone dying on her. Nor did she want to. But Y/N was capable of holding as many quirks and capabilities as she could handle— and pain added up very quickly.

It had been worse when she was younger, but Y/N had grown during her time at UA, and now she was capable of ignoring the emotions of others to an extent, and her pain tolerance had grown exponentially.

Y/N was grateful for her success, for the agency she’d been working at. She was not grateful for the looks she got on the way there, Y/N could feel the whispers of those who watched her enter as they walked past. Though she could only hope her own staff had more respect for her.

Her lips pressed together into a tight lipped smile as she entered, and Y/N found herself bracing for whatever could greet her. And to her delight, it appeared that everything was normal. Save for Lorelai’s presence by the entrance, her phone in hand. As though she had known Y/N had entered, the girl in question looks up from her phone before Y/N even has the chance to speak.

“We need to go over our plan, Y/N.”

In response, Y/N waves her off, continuing down the corridor. She smiles to those who greet her, mumbling back to them as Lorelai follows her. “Actually, I need to plan my first patrol of the morning.” She says, looking back to her friend momentarily.

“Then I’ll plan. And my plan includes a real nice fake dating scheme, kinda like those movies.”

Almost instantly Y/N turns around, glaring at Lorelai— who simply offers her a smile in response, clearly pleased with herself as she begins to move alongside Y/N rather than behind her. Y/N had no doubt that they would plan a fake dating scheme if it came down to it, unless she got involved that is. “So?”

“Well, the fake dating scheme was an actual option but you clearly don't like that.” Lorelai mumbles out in response, now holding a tablet as she guides them into a room. “Aside from that, basic press events together,” Lorelai looks up from her tablet pointedly, “where you actually look like you’re enjoying yourself, should amend the situation easily enough.”

Y/N raised a brow, taking a step around the long meeting table where those who worked at Hawk’s agency would soon congregate for their weekly assignments, “a little too easy if you ask me.” She looks to Lorelai, “Bakugou agreed to this?”

“I’m sure his PR team will convince him.” Came her response, shrugging as she took a seat on the table and crossed her legs. “We can do a public statement but there’s no real reason for making this a bigger thing than it already is. It would only end badly.”

With a frown, Y/N’s eyes drift back towards the window. They’re still on the first floor so it’s not like she’s seeing much, but it’s almost astonishing, how there are people just… going about their days without a single fear in the world. All Might’s downfall had eradicated the mindset but on days like these it felt as though not a single thing had changed. As though there weren’t still dozens of underground organizations planning horrid things, and there weren’t hero agencies like her own devising ways to stop them.

Hero Society was a fragile, and corrupt thing.

Y/N had watched as they threw children into every battle, she remembered when she’d been forced to do such things herself. She had watched her comrades, her friends, nearly die for a cause they were too young to comprehend. And she watched as civilians criticized them for not doing enough. Why did her publicity even matter? Shouldn’t that be the least of her concerns? Y/N found it funny that she needed to do well in polls to do her job well. It was the only real way to guarantee access to certain information that low ranked heroes didn’t get.

With a sigh,Y/N turns back, brows furrowed, “so when does this start?”

Placing the tablet beside her on the table, Lorelai rests her palms against it and leans back against them, “next week probably. Haru still needs to work out the details with the rest of the PR team and Bakugou.”

A small laugh escapes Y/N as she mumbles out, “it takes a whole team to keep that man from ruining himself.”

“Most Pro Heroes have a PR team, Y/N. You’re one of few exceptions.” Lorelai corrects, looking to her. It was true, Y/N was aware that more popular heroes often had teams of people coordinating their social media, schedules, public outings, and more.

Y/N tilts her head at Lorelai, “why is that?”

Lorelai raises a brow at her friend’s words, “what, you want to get rid of me?”

Y/N laughs once more, shaking her head, “no… it’s just—” She turns to face her friend, “when I hired you I couldn’t really afford anyone else. Now I can. But you do all the work by yourself.” Biting her lip, Y/N asks, “why is that? I could get you an assistant or something, easily.”

“Well you aren’t exactly the most problematic,” Lorelai responds, offering her a small smile.

Nodding, Y/N pulls out a chair at the head of the table, taking a seat, “but you also have plenty of other clients—”

The door opens, drawing their attention to the person who stands there, one of many heroes who worked at the agency., Pro Hero Telen, a simple hero name with an equally simple quirk. But his ability had saved them numerous times in battle. He pauses as he enters, “is it— is it not time for the briefing? Have I interrupted something? I apologize I can—”

He moves to shut the door but Lorelai simply hops off the table, collecting her tablet as she heads to the door and rests a hand on his shoulder, “don’t worry— we’re done here, right Y/N?” Y/N simply nods, and Lorelai offers her a smile, “be careful today.” She mumbles out, before turning back to Telen. Y/N doesn’t know what she says, but he pales and nods before entering. Shortly after, everyone else seems to file inside, and Y/N finds herself sighing as she spins around in her chair as she waits.

It would be a long day. A very, very, long day.

BAKUGOU WAS TIRED. He really was. Working at Endeavor’s Agency meant long hours, endless paperwork, constant cases. And right now he was assigned to the current big thing; the Stain copycat that had yet to be caught. Unfortunately, this guy didn’t seem to be an amateur like the rest. Of course, whoever it was, they’d primarily been attacking minor Pro Heroes, until recently.

Slowly working their way up the food chain of heroes until they ended up coming across someone who was relevant. It was inevitable, at one point whoever it was, they’d bite more than they can chew. Trying to take on a hero that surpassed their skills, whatever those skills may be— or they would slip up. Leaving behind some sort of evidence that would result in their capture.

The only issue was, there was no telling where or when this would be. How many would have to die before they were caught? Bakugou didn’t necessarily want to know, and it was his job to make sure no one ever knew how many.

A job he was failing. Alongside Deku, who had also been assigned to the case, it was a curious partnership but he had no choice to make it work. And his publicist had insisted that any presence with a hero like him would be good publicity. After all, most of the public knew about their little rivalry so it would make him seem diplomatic in a way. But Deku was…

“So… the gala, huh.”

Well, he was Deku.

“Shut up.”

Thankfully, they hadn’t run into any reporters, though he was sure someone had caught pictures of them on duty together. Which was bound to end either ridiculously well for him, or incredibly poorly. It was always hit or miss with the press and Bakugou despised the entire aspect of the job. It was the one thing he could admit he was bad at. He wasn’t the most approachable, meaning it was rare for reporters to approach him in the first place due to his renowned temper.

The pair was making their way through the streets of the city, patrol was normal but they were currently on their way to the police station. They were supposed to be collaborating with the police to handle this copycat, and for some reason Deku was… panicked. It was subtle but the guy had been practically sweating bullets since Endeavor told them they’d need to work with the police.

If Bakugou was honest this whole job was busy work. Why else would Endeavor’s agency be working on it? The Number One hero had to have better things to do. Maybe this was a punishment for what happened on the last mission they went on.

Bakugou frowns at the thought, electing to push those thoughts to the back of his mind as they come to stand in front of the Police Station. He finds himself bringing a hand to rub his temple. It was definitely going to be a long day. And he hadn’t even spoken to Haru about how the meeting with Lorelai went yet. Not that he wanted to know at this point, Bakugou had a feeling he wouldn’t be satisfied with any solution they proposed.

He really didn’t feel like dealing with any of this. So, Bakugou finds himself thinking that it might be time to use all those vacation days he’d been holding onto since he’d started working with Endeavor. They were piling up after all.

With a huff, he and Deku make their way up the steps up the police station, and Bakugou pushes the door open. It’s busy inside, as expected. A bustling atmosphere that reeks of blood, sweat, and tears, literally. There are some people seated, likely waiting to be processed, they’re handcuffed and Bakugou is fairly sure he recognizes one of them. Not that he has the time to dwell on it as they move through the police station.

One of the officers makes their way towards them, “you’re the heroes Endeavor’s agency sent?” He asks, looking to Deku, brow raised. “Welcome back.”

Bakugou looks at Izuku incredulously as they begin to follow the man through the mess of a building, “the hell is that supposed to mean?” He hisses, but Izuku’s face has already flushed as he covers it with his hands, shaking his head.

“It was one time, how do all of you know about it!” Izuku cried out, and Bakugou finds himself glaring at his partner for the day, even without context.

The officer simply laughs, waving him off as they make their way into a room. There stands the police chief, Kenji Tsuragamae, and a few others seated at some of the many seats in the room, in front of white board that seems to be more of a mess than those around them. They look tired, exhausted even.

Tsuragamae seems to notice their presence, clapping to garner the attention of the few inside the room, “everyone, please welcome the Pro Heroes from Endeavor’s agency. They’ll be assisting us with this case moving forwards.”

The officers seem rather unimpressed, and since Izuku still seems rather embarrassed for some reason, Bakugou finds himself stepping forwards, “what’s going on?”

With a sigh, he goes to answer. But he doesn’t get the chance as an explosion sounds and the building shakes. A siren goes off above them and suddenly the sprinklers began shooting out water as a woman entered, “sir! There’s been an explosion.”

Bakugou fights the urge to say, no shit, as he and Izuku exchange looks, “is it an attack?”

“On the police? That’s bold.” The officer from earlier comments as they all rise from their seats. But the fear in the room is abundantly evident as they all await her response, anticipation amongst them all. Because who would do such a thing, and so strategically placed on the day

The woman only shakes her head, and this time a man appears beside her, based on the way he’s dressed— Bakugou would have to guess he’s a plumber of some sort, but the man simply explains, “we think it’s an issue with the boiler room.”

Bakugou finds himself rolling his eyes, “then why are you still here?” He turns to the rest of the room, “get on with the briefing and get the damn plumber down there.” He grumbles out, before taking a seat once more and redirecting his attention back to the chief, gesturing for him to carry on with his presentation. All the while Izuku is apologizing rather profusely for his attitude.

Now, crime had worsened exponentially after All Might’s downfall. It’s not that other heroes were suddenly less capable, although some were discouraged by the fall of the greatest hero. It’s just that All Might was a symbol. Even years after the fact, Bakugou could still see it. Things had changed. Although in recent times, crime had lessened thanks to the work of today’s Pro Heroes, there were still… issues.

Many had gone the vigilante route as a result of the League of Villains and Stain— and speaking of Stain, there had been several copycats over the years, people who agreed with his ideals and his actions. Which is what brought them here. The issue at hand was this most recent copycat was… decent. Most of the time it was amateurs who didn’t plan that far ahead, quick and easy to catch with minimal casualties, if any.

Essentially, the police had nothing on him. Just a list of his victims and what they had in common. They were underground heroes, like that of his own teacher from UA, but something about them seemed off, different from what they’d seen in other copycats in the past. They weren’t like the flashy heroes you would find, the ones who seemed… fake. The ones most targeted because they fit Stain’s idea of a false hero.

And even then, there was no being sure which were the victims of this copycat and which were that of others. As the anniversary of Stain’s capture grew closer, more attacks were popping up.

Shaking away these thoughts, Bakugou grimaces. All he had gotten from that briefing was that they knew nothing, had done nothing, and were going nowhere. Which wasn’t necessarily encouraging. So far, there were four confirmed victims of the copycat, and three additional deaths that were viewed as possible victims of the copycat. Technically, one of the copycats, but that wasn’t something he necessarily wanted to think about.

Yeah, he would definitely be taking those vacation days.

#this is not the end series #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo x you #bakugou x you #katsuki x you #katsuki bakugo x you #bakugou katsuki x you #katsuki bakugou x you #bakugo katsuki x you #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha x you #mha x you

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suicidalslasher · 3 years

Text

forever & always. ➤ tom. h.

Happy Valentine’s Day~!!! I couldn’t contain myself and or stop myself from writing about my favorite Valentine’s day killer. So, here you go :)

WARNING: descriptions of gore and blood. in this one-shot, the reader’s pronouns are she&her. i might make a part two of this, depending on how well it does. maybe not. i like how it ends, regardless. either way. enjoy.

The news spread like wildfire. No matter which way you went, there was always a flame, reaching out towards those to burn. Try as you may, you can't get away. The words that littered the air was nothing more than burnt ashes fluttering around, burning each object as it flies above said thing or said person. In this case, the people of a small town called Valentine Bluffs were the ones burning from the inside and out. They felt trapped within the smoke, unable to seek out which way to escape the dangers that had followed. The terror; the trauma; the panic and anxiety attacks; All of it - they thought it was long gone.... they were finally going back to being normal, how things used to be.

They were going back to a life that wasn't full of fear, having to look behind your shoulder constantly and being careful of who you trust. It was all going to be okay, happy once more. They'd finally be able to celebrate their favorite day once again. But... as you may have guessed, it's not quite easy to put out a rapid wildfire. All it takes is a small fire to expand out into something bigger, bolder, and scarier. You can't escape the flames. No matter how big or small. You cannot ignore the overwhelming burning sensation that glazes across your skin as the fire around you grows larger, making you feel smaller and smaller by the second. The words, however, the statement that was fluttering around like specks of ash, wasn't at all a sentence (nor an actual fire) but a name - Harry Warden. 1997. Valentine's day. Everybody, in & out of town, knows what happened. For a brief period of time there, nobody celebrated Valentine's day, having thought it out to be cursed. Yet, as time went on, there was no sign of Harry Warden. No copy cat killer version of him, neither. So, the people went back to celebrating. Writing hand written love letters, buying cheaply made cards at the local supermarket, buying and or receiving overly priced chocolates. Anything, everything, people did it with love in their hearts and a smile on their face. Today was Valentine's Day, once more. Expect it wasn't the way it had been for the past 9 years. It was exactly like the day in 1997. History was repeating itself. Instead of love, presents, and reserved dinner dates being celebrated and shared, the town of Valentine Bluffs got decomposed, rotting corpses, instead. Blood scattered outside and inside of buildings.

It was worse than before, more bodies were showing up without their hearts and the missing body piece would be found neatly placed in between a plastic heart shaped box. All of which would be sent to the police station as a joke, as a threat. Even a card would be taped on top or under the container, though the sentences were far from cheerful and loveable. A few of them had been thrown aside, only having been read once. Those who opened it and read it aloud usually found themselves cringing in dismay as they read the paragraph out loud all while shifting around in their seat, uncomfortably.

Once they read it, they shook their heads as tears welled up in their eyes before they threw it into the trash bin or ripped it into hundreds of tiny pieces, not daring to open another letter that's brought in. Evidence or not, the workers couldn't keep their breakfast or lunch down when they'd read the cards. The recent two cards had said; From the heart comes a warning, filled with bloody good cheer, remember what happened as the 14th draws near! And the last victim, a girl named Maryanne Anderson, had gotten a card right before she was found dead, her body laying in a ditch to rot. Her card had read; Roses are red, violets are blue, one is dead, and so are you. Nobody knew who the new killer was, or if it even was a new killer, copying Harry's schemes and following in his footsteps. It could have very well been the same man all those years ago. That's what they were saying. (Y/N) (L/N) was in her car, driving back home from work when her favorite song had been replaced with an alarm, cutting off her favorite part. "Oh, c'mon!" She groaned, hands hitting the steering wheel in annoyance before she goes to turn up the volume anyways, wondering what's so important that the town and the police station had to turn off her favorite song.

She knew about the murders, she knew there was a serial killer around, she already knew this already. And yes, she was petrified, as most people were. When the first body showed up, the mayor of town announced there'd be a curfew until they found out who is doing all of this. Whether it was one person or more, they'd find a way to capture the killer. No matter what. There was not going to be another murder.

(Of course, there was more.)

(The original curfew was getting home at 9:30. Now, it had gone down and you'd have to be indoors, at your house, by 6:30 PM.) Students in school would get out earlier, as well as the adults in town. The only ones who didn't get to go home so early in the day were those who were trying to protect the people of Valentine Bluffs. "We are sorry to interrupt that song there," came the radio host's deep and groggy voice. "However, this is more important than your favorite throwback jams. I've gotten an officer here with me, he had just shown up not even a second ago to tell us more news on the situation we are currently in. So, please, listen carefully." "Yeah, whatever. I already know what's going on. Tell me something I don't know." (Y/N) turns off the radio as she pulls up in her driveway, feeling a sense of comfort clouding over her, another day, she's okay; safe and sound, unlike a few of her old high school friends that were gutted like fish and butchered like pigs.

She shivers at both the bitter and harsh wind brushing against her as she steps out of her vehicle and the obvious visual of whatever masked man (or men) that's around, killing innocent people for whatever given reason. Hurrying along the steps to her porch, she digs her keys out of her jacket pocket, finding them within seconds before she's pushing them into the door as quickly as she could. She didn't show it, tried not to show it, but she was as anxious and paranoid as everyone else was.

(Y/N) was trying to hold back her fear but the moment she gets home, locking all the doors and windows, the uneasy feelings creep up on her and every negative emotion takes charge. With a sigh, she falls down onto the couch with a plop, reaching for the remote, she turns on the TV, attempting to try and get her mind off of things. Of course, every station wasn't what she wanted to watch, the news replacing every channel. She skipped and skipped but it all remained the exact same. With a groan, she decides to listen to what they were saying, even though she really didn't want to hear it as it'd only make her anxiety worse. "I am Jonathan Godfrey. We're sorry to interrupt your daily scheduled programs, however, a man you may know as Tom Hanniger has escaped from his stay from a mental hospital." (Y/N)'s eyes nearly budge out of her head at the mention of the man's name, the remote she had in the palm of her hand goes flying, falling down onto the ground by her feet. Tom? Mental hospital? It didn't make any sense! Everyone... including her, thought he was dead! She, with shaky fingers, grabs the remote to turn the volume up. Jonathan's own eyes were wide as he read the teleprompter, his voice now grew shaky as he spoke. Fear was written across both his and his co-worker’s face. "Unfortunately, we don't have any more information or news as to where he's escaped off to. Or where he may be as of the moment. All the reports, every last piece of information we have been received has said he's been missing since two days ago. He can be anywhere. More importantly, he can be here, hiding out." His voice trembled as he spoke, it was also very faint - almost ghostly. Quiet as a mouse. His skin was pale, making it appear as if he was a ghost rather than a living person that sat in the chair there.

Jonathan couldn't continue, this much was obvious, therefore his co-host, Abigail Miller, continued where he had left off. "This being said, please, lock the doors and windows of your home. If you have a weapon to guard your own life and protect your ground, get it out now. Please, protect yourself the very best you can. And do not, I repeat, do not answer the door. Do not leave your home whatsoever. Whatever is outside of your house is surely not more important than your life.

“Whether it is Tom that has been doing this or not, we're not exactly sure. All we tell you is to be careful and remain indoors until we can find Tom and or find the Valentine's killer. This has been Jonathan Godfrey and Abigail Miller, with the news. Stay safe and God bless." The program that was previously playing showed up finally, the neon colors swirling together to form the title of the show, along with a fairly way too cheerful theme song playing faintly in the distance as the introduction played out. (Y/N) had never heard of it before, but from a quick glance, it appeared to be a sitcom from the late 70's. The only source of light was coming from the television screen, casting colorful shadows across (Y/N)'s face. She had felt too tired to have turned on the lights upon entering her house. Work was short, the hours having grown thinner because of the curfew, however, it was still tiring all the same. She instantly regretted not doing so now, however.

She sat in the dark, her heart thumping loudly against her chest as she pulled a near by blanket around her shoulders as if the thick fabric would comfort her and protect her. The room had gotten colder ever since the report was announced. Goosebumps ran up and down (Y/N)'s body, the baby hairs on her neck stood on end as a shiver slid up and down her spine. Despite the blanket being around her body, she felt nothing but cold, numb. Suddenly, the TV went out with a soft 'ping'. (Y/N) gasped and her heart stopped beating all together. She felt like she couldn't breathe, she couldn't tell if she was going crazy either when she heard what sounded like footsteps coming down from the hallway. She sat, frozen, on her couch, unable to move, unable to breathe. Then.... a knock. Followed by another and another. It was right outside, coming from not the front entrance but the back yard. "(Y/N)? (Y/N), please..." came the voice. And (Y/N) recognized that voice anywhere. She knows she shouldn't.... everybody said not to but... she couldn't help herself. Getting up as quickly as she could, she runs down the hallway, the sounds of her feet echoing against the thin walls as she reaches the door, tugging it open. There, on the other half of the door, stood nobody other than Tom Hanniger himself. He looked up, surprised she had answered the door. Giving her a weak, lopsided smile, Tom's pulling her into a tight hug, his head falling down in the crook between her shoulder and neck, tears flooding his eyes as he soaks her shirt, silently weeping. "(Y/N).... fuck, I've missed you so much, missed you so bad." Tom confesses with a sniffle. "Tom... I- what're you doing here? They're looking for you, you know this, right? Everybody's looking for you. And.... and I- fuck, Tom! I thought you were dead. Everybody in town thought you died the day your father did." (Y/N) didn't hesitate to hide her true feelings. She was a mixture of emotions. Angry, happy, sad, scared - she was feeling every single emotion there possibly was. "I know... I know. I-I have a lot to explain and a lot to tell you but please, right now, can we just- can we just play pretend?" He asked, moving away from her shoulder as he wiped his nose on the sleeve of his sweater, his eyes remained watery and his skin was flushed as he looked up at (Y/N). (Y/N) guessed it was a mixture of three things - running away from the mental hospital to where her house was to the bitter and harsh February air. Plus, the crying he had just done, too. His face was red and blotchy from all three. Despite it being so cold, sweat trickled his face, a few drips of it falling along side his cheeks. "Play pretend?" (Y/N) echoed, tilting her head to the side, unsure of what he meant. "Let's play pretend." He repeated, licking his lips. "Let's play pretend and imagine none of this horrid, crazed shit is going on right now. Let's pretend it's only me and you. It's Valentine's day, isn't it? Let's celebrate. After all, it was one of our favorite days to spend together." Heat rose to (Y/N)'s cheeks and she bit on her bottom lip, rocking back and forth on the bottom of her feet. "Tom.... I-I'm...You want-" She couldn't from sentences, her thoughts were mushing together and it was all too much for her to handle. She felt like she was going to pass out. "I want you, (Y/N). I want you as bad as I did then and I want you just as badly right now. There has never been a day where I wasn't thinking about you. You were the love of my life. I still love you, maybe even more, now. Let's celebrate, please. We can talk about everything tomorrow morning. I promise I'll tell you everything. Right now, let's play pretend, let's act like it's just us again, like when we were teens.... I've missed you. And.... and I know you've missed me too or else you wouldn't have opened the door." And, yeah, okay, he was right. "Tom..." "(Y/N)." He stepped closer to her, closer than he had done before, as he rests his hand against her cheek, fingers brushing against her skin as he looked into her (E/C) eyes. "I love you. I never stopped. And I know you love me, too.... so, please, baby girl.... can I just show you how much I love you?" (Y/N) shouldn't have answered the door. She should have called the cops when she heard his voice. Everything was too much of a coincidence.

Her power was working perfectly fine until Tom had shown up.

Now that she was thinking about it....

There was also no victims until she had heard the news Tom had left the asylum. Three days ago....

Three days ago, there was the first victim; Maryanne. If she thought too much about it, got too deep into the rabbit hole, she would have assumed Tom Hanniger was the Valentine's killer - The Miner. Yet... looking at Tom, she knew he wasn't - couldn't - be the killer. If he was, he would've killed her too, right? Tom Hanniger's been through too much, and just like she was there before, she was going to be there for him now. Through Hell and back.

She would stay by his side, no matter what. She still kept the old promise ring he had given her in high school, along with the note in which he confessed his feelings. In which, he told her - one day - he'd marry her. She was the perfect girl for him, as he was the perfect man for her. A promise is a promise. When she said 'forever and always', she meant that. (Y/N) knew Tom meant it, too. "I love you too." Tom's quick to place his lips on (Y/N)'s and (Y/N) is quick to kiss him back just as hungry, just as fierce. She tangles her fingers through her hair and pulls on it, earning a groan from Tom. Satisfied with the result, she tugs him into her house by the sleeve of his shirt, slamming the door shut with her foot.

"I've missed you, baby." He says, not daring to pull away from the kiss.

"Show me how much you've missed me then, baby." She mumbles against his lips. "Oh, I'm going to." "Let's go celebrate Valentine's day the right way then. Come on, let's go upstairs." Tom grins and (Y/N) smiles back before she's pulling him up the stairs and into her bedroom.

Forever and Always. It was them until the end. Nobody would ever separate the two of them, again.... not even Harry Warden was going to destroy Tom’s happiness... not this time.

#Tom Hanniger x reader #Tom Hanniger x Y/N #slasher imagines #slasher one shots #slasher x reader #Jensen Ackles x Y/N #My Bloody Valentine #Jensen Ackles x reader #Slasher fanfictions #Jensen Ackles fanfictions #Jensen Ackles imagines #Tom Hanniger imagines #Jensen Ackles one shots #my works #Tom Hanniger one shots #Tom Hanniger fanfictions #Harry Warden x reader #Harry Warden x Y/N #cierra's stories

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the-siren-and-the-sailor · 3 years

Text

Tag list: @caloroso-cosmos @kissthe-gogoat Let me know if you wanted to be added or taken off!

Nadox once compared himself to Cain. I wonder now what it’d be like if they ever met. I’m gonna edit this to say that since Nadox is Sarkic, there’s gonna be mentions of gore. Mild stuff though, it’s only mentioned.

Can air become like lava’s equal?

It certainly did here. But then, it had easily tasted like bitter winter not a few weeks and several hundred leagues ago- the season’s fluidity by locale was more than typical for this eternal wanderer.

Yes, the man thought, I suppose it can. The sun was sweltering and the sand burned Cain’s feet, yet he did not falter between them. He did hope to find a town soon- he seemed to only ever stumble across one when he was most desperate. Forlorn of fresh water and conversation, Cain sighed and kept trudging.

A nearby hill obstructed vision of the continuing path in all directions, allowing a separate, similar man- one who in actuality, could not be any more different than his sunbeaten analogue- to be hidden in it’s gracious shadow.

He sat, cocooned in his cloak, not worried about anyone seeing the scroll he so plainly pulled out of his own body (he had several extra eyes grown around and about to watch for the prying ones of strangers).

Not enough, however, and he straightened upon finding that some blue-clad traveler had managed to evade him. By no means had they snuck up, but their progress was certainly noteworthy- only his serpentine little sister had ever managed that fully.

Regardless, he covertly tucked the parchment and the rest of his far-spread flesh back into a compact, human form again. Hopefully he would be ignored this way.

He was successful in replicating a mundane appearance, but was nevertheless a perfect fit for the other’s lacks.

“Hello there!” the person, a man, said with a voice that was distinctly… metallic, somehow.

Shrinking back into his coat wouldn’t work now, so he simply waved back as dismissively as he could. Of course, it was no use. But as the man approached, an odd thing became clear; it seemed at first that his skin tone differed from face to limb, but this was in fact, not skin at all. The tinny clicking of his ankles proved that.

“I was beginning to lose hope of finding my way, but it seems the gods have been merciful. You wouldn’t happen to have a map, would you? I’m afraid I may have lost my way.”

Gods, plural? Perhaps the assumption that this was just another Mekhanite was incorrect. What a strange occurrence. The cloaked sage shook his head. He did possess one, but would rather not be forced to speak, let alone quite literally spit it out.

“Oh that’s unfortunate,” he paused for a moment, a finger sheathed in leather curved to his chin in thought. The loose sleeves of his tunic fell around his elbows. If he was trying to cover up his metal parts, he was doing an extraordinarily terrible job.

“Well, you must’ve gotten here somehow. Do you know where the nearest dwelling is?” From Cain’s perspective, this fellow was being more than slightly suspicious, and he was curious to draw the conversation out.

The cloaked man simply pointed down the path. Cain was about to give up and be on his way, when a thought seemed to occur to the other, and he reached to his side. It struck Cain that he had not yet seen the man’s face.

He faced back a moment more, this time producing a parchment and quill (from where?), and simply wrote on it, Forgive me, I cannot speak. Turning his head, it appeared that his mouth was coarsely sewn shut with thread.

“I’m terribly sorry. If I have been a bother at all-” but the mute shook his head, returning to the writing, coming back with a, Who are you?

And he meant the question. What was someone like this doing out, alone, in the hot desert? He had a hunch, but-

“My name is Cain, I come from far away. You seem to as well. And who might you be, if I may ask?”

Cain? Certainly not that Cain. Well, it made some semblance of sense. But in that case…

Certainly you know already, he wrote.

This only served to confuse Cain. He didn’t- should he have? Oh, if he should’ve, it would’ve come across as so very rude.

“I hate to say it, but I do not. Could you perhaps elaborate?”

I fear I would frighten you away with the only method I have for a voice.

“I’ve had conversations in strange ways before. Whatever it is, I’ll understand.”

Instead of responding by text, the man stood to his full height, several inches taller than Cain, and motioned for them to walk. Cain, still confused, obliged.

After only a few paces, the gaunt man turned his head, still in step, divulging his brilliant orange eyes. A voice, silvery yet brittle, rang through his mind. “I am Klavigar Nadox. Perhaps you recognize me now?”

Cain stumbled and gulped. Oh, just his luck that his only company was a Sarkic saint! “Oh my, I do. I mean you no harm, I swear! I was travelling to visit my cousin, I only met you by accident-”

“I heard stories of you as a child. Perhaps you even inspired me, in a way. Are you truly the son of Adam? King of Canaan, the Reassembled One?”

Cain stared at Nadox, a mixture of expressions along the lines of confused fear on his face. The henchman of Ion himself, simply… talking?

“I don’t understand. Am I not your enemy?” Cain paused, trailing off and warily eyeing the other.

“You tell me.”

“…”

Well, this was awkward. Nadox, while wanting to know more about Cain, was really just as scared of him as he was of him. Derdekeas had been formidable, and he was just a man- this, on the other hand, was no less than a demigod.

“Do I have to be?” Came Cain’s response. Ah, there it was. A note of distinctly regal conviction.

Cain’s mind was, in all honesty, made up before they met- for he had also heard stories of Nadox. The Flesh was not the be all, end all of evil, nor was Bronze designed to be its foe. This was not a confrontation: it was a learning opportunity.

“I don’t suppose you are, then. If this is true, then I am not yours.” He really wasn’t. It was rare to cross an immortal’s path, why mire the chance with old tired conflict of broken and dying gods? Surely Ion could not be upset with this bid for knowledge, upon his return.

“Well then. Would you care to walk with me? I’m sure I am as curious of you as you are of me.”

“I am, and I would.”

Yes, this was a shining arrangement. The only problem was…

“A moment. Does this restless wanderer’s feet always know where to take him?”

“They don’t usually do an especially decent job, no.”

“I’ll give you a map if you promise to remain level-headed despite its whereabouts.”

Cain’s nod quickly turned to gagging upon the sight of the paper’s… method of containment. Was this how all shepherds of the flesh kept their documents? It begged many questions that the metal man did not particularly want answers to.

But then, Nadox had bristled later on, when Cain unlocked a compartment in the metal of his leg to retrieve a quill and compass.

Clearly, they each had much to learn.

#scp 073 #klavigar nadox #writing #my writing #scp-073 #scp cain #nadox #📝 Written in the History Books 📜#sarkic #sarkicism #mekhanite #mekhanism #let’s face it i’m in love with both of them

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damianosismyking · 3 years

Note

from the prompt list: 3 or 6 for lamen :) love your writing sm!

Hello dear anon! Thank you so much for the prompts and kind words <3 Unfortunately, this turned out a little long. I hope you enjoy it anyway.

|Prompts chosen from this list! |

#3: “Come with me to the other room” – “We are not going to talk about this now.”

#6: “Here, take my jacket” – “I told you I’m not cold” *shivering*

[1,9K words]

It had everything to be the perfect night, but of course, fucking Aimeric would ruin it.

Laurent had been impossible to convince, deadly opposed to getting out of the house unless it was indispensable, and more so getting out of the house to be somewhere loud and crowded.

In the end, Damen managed to convince Laurent through bargain: if he came with him to this one party his friend was throwing, just this time, then Damen would spend the next three months giving Laurent as many back rubs as he wished without complaint.

More than anything, Damen was just happy to get Laurent out of the house. It did him well to be around people that weren’t Damen or his coworkers for a change. To talk about things that didn’t include slide presentations and spreadsheets and whatever he saw on the TV or read on some site. Shake things up a little.

And it worked wonders. Laurent had found a clever girl with whom he connected and had been chatting for a while. He even allowed himself a soft drink (which didn’t have enough alcohol to qualify as an alcoholic beverage). Damen’s heart lurched as Laurent smiled politely, very obviously entertained.

Convinced that Laurent was fine on his own, Damen left the room to witness a drinking competition unfolding in the backyard. He fully intended to take part in it when the lightweight college boy on the left inevitably passed out.

It couldn’t have been more than five minutes. It was just enough time for Damen to step out to the backyard and see the college boy hurl his insides on the grass, and Laurent was poking Damen’s back with a brutal force.

The light quality that had been on Laurent’s face a moment ago had vanished. His jaw was locked, and Laurent seemed angry like Damen hadn’t seen in a while.

“What happened?” Damen asked, but as soon as the words were out, the reason materialized into the backyard.

Aimeric. Fucking Aimeric.

He came hand in hand with an older guy who was not Jord but might as well have been, greying beard, receding hairline and all. Aimeric’s hair had grown long enough to tie up into a bun since the last time Damen saw him. He greeted and smiled a very politician smile at some folks by the pool, making his way to them.

“What are you doing?” Laurent clutched the front of Damen’s shirt. His eyes on Damen were piercing, and Damen knew it was in an attempt to not let them travel east, to the last person any of them expected to see there.

If only Damen had known, he’d never have invited Laurent along. “Let’s go home,” he suggested.

“No,” Laurent replied steadfastly. “I want to see what you’re doing.”

Damen pulled Laurent to his side, a protective arm swung over his shoulders to keep him from view. The issue was that even trying to keep Laurent from harm, the harm had already reached him. Before Damen had a say in it, Laurent was stepping into the place emptied by the college kid, asking the host to explain the rules for the game.

Calling after him resulted in nothing. A second after, Laurent’s hands were tied back, and he was bending over shot glasses placed at the table, grabbing them with his mouth and tossing his head back to drink. He dropped the glass unceremoniously at the table to mouth the next one and the next one, down the line like it was water.

Laurent won, finishing his shots first. The next opponent took the place of the girl Laurent beat. Once again, Laurent won. He was getting ready for a third round when Damen stepped in.

“Come here.” Damen pulled Laurent closer reaching behind him to untie the hands.

“I was playing a game,” Laurent protested but ultimately allowed himself to be untied and dragged away.

Damen returned inside the house, guiding Laurent by the hand. The shots hadn’t hit him yet, but they would soon. Finally, they made it to the kitchen in search of water.

And there was Aimeric too, like a bad presage. In his heart, Damen prayed Laurent would overlook Aimeric with the back pressed to the stove talking to some guy who very evidently drooled over him.

Of course, Damen wouldn’t be so lucky, and Laurent would gulp his water while burying Aimeric with a deadly glare. It certainly didn’t help that Aimeric met the gaze and leaned into not-Jord’s ear to whisper something and giggle.

It certainly didn’t help that it happened again and again. One too many times.

If it bothered Damen, who objectively had nothing against Aimeric, he could only imagine what it did to Laurent to see his ex-friend magically pop up at every location they ran to and very conveniently start whispering to the nearest drooling idiot.

Laurent’s pupils were blown wide already and his lids heavy. It would get worse, and when it did, it was for the best if Aimeric wasn’t anywhere within Laurent’s sight.

“Come with me to the other room,” Damen whispered into Laurent’s ear.

“We are not going to talk about this now,” Laurent’s groggy response. He didn’t even bother masking that he was intently staring at Aimeric, who laughed carefree with not-Jord’s hand in his back pocket.

“Who said anything about talking?”

Laurent tagged along with Damen, wavering behind him. They crossed the restriction rope to make it upstairs, to the room area Pallas may get angry at him for invading.

But Damen knew the place, and he knew that in Pallas’ parents’ room, there was a nice balcony with a bench where he had sat more than once to get high with his friends throughout high school. It opened to the view of the sleeping neighborhood and blocked the noises from the party happening downstairs.

The night was chilly, even for late Autumn. It ruffled the tops of the trees and shifted strands of Laurent’s hair.

Damen started to remove his jacket, but Laurent rose a hand to his face. “I’m not cold.”

Laurent walked right past the bench and propped himself up to sit at the balcony with a leg hanging off each side. Damen went to stand beside him, in case Laurent lost balance.

Laurent breathed in deeply, his head lolling against a column. “I hate drinking,” he said, squeezing his eyes.

“Do you need more water?”

“No. I need to be sober.”

“Water could help you with that,” Damen pointed.

Laurent shook his head lazily. He swayed until his head hit Damen’s chest. “No.”

Damen tilted Laurent’s chin up to peck at his lips. Laurent’s mouth tasted disgusting, but he leaned in with a soft sigh, and Damen kissed him deeper. It went on for some time. When Damen pulled back, Laurent shivered.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Damen offered, tucking a strand of hair behind Laurent’s ear.

“About what?” Laurent said. His speech was even more dragged than before, but he knew precisely what Damen had referred to. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Laurent.”

“There is nothing to talk about.” Damen recognized a sign to drop the subject when he saw one.

He knew, however, that the fallout with Aimeric was still a sore spot for Laurent. And that regardless of his claims, he missed his friend. Aimeric had been one of the few people Laurent trusted enough to befriend, and after the blown-out fight that resulted in them never speaking again, Aimeric changed drastically into the role of one of Laurent’s fiercer – if not to say most dedicated – antagonists.

Laurent had been telling Damen for months that Aimeric fed people lies about him and twisted his secrets to tarnish Laurent’s image all around. Damen had thought it was the paranoia speaking, the way sometimes Laurent thought people were looking at him a certain way or laughing behind his back. But, as it turned out, Laurent had been right. The realization curled Damen’s stomach and boiled his blood.

“Are you going to tell Nicaise?” Damen asked, running his fingernails lightly up and down Laurent’s nape.

Laurent smiled. “I don’t want him to kill Aimeric.”

“Wise.”

Laurent’s eyelids grew heavier with each passing moment. His pupils were so wide his irises were reduced to little blue bands. He shivered, losing a battle against his trembling jaw. “Here,” Damen said, “Take my jacket.”

“I told you, I’m not cold.” A strong shiver followed the statement.

Damen wrapped his leather jacket around Laurent and pulled him close, resting his chin at the top of Laurent’s head, blond strands tickling his neck. There was a good chance Laurent may fall asleep like that, and Damen would have a tough time getting him off the balcony. “Are you going to throw up?”

“No. I think.”

Damen laughed into Laurent’s hair. “Come lay down.”

“I’m not in the mood tonight, Damen,” Laurent frowned.

“I meant actually lay down. You’re barely awake as it is.”

“I’m awake,” Laurent said, but he swung his leg over the balcony and hopped off, staggering on his feet.

It was an easy task to take off Laurent’s sneakers and tuck him in bed, always so impossibly pliable when he had a little too much to drink. He was reaching the worse of his drunkenness, barely capable of keeping his eyes open anymore.

“Please tell me if you need to throw up,” Damen said, sitting at his bedside just to look at him. Even poorly illuminated and wholly wasted, Laurent managed to be the most beautiful thing Damen’s ever laid eyes on.

“Lay with me,” Laurent whined.

“In a minute,” Damen said. He planned to go back downstairs once he was sure Laurent had blacked out, to explain the situation to Pallas and try to save face, but Laurent didn’t need to know that.

“You think Ric is going to hate me forever?” Laurent’s eyes were closed, face going lax. The chances he’d remember that conversation after he woke up were minimum.

Damen ran a finger down Laurent’s cheek. His face was flushed red and warm. “Will you?”

Laurent nuzzled Damen’s hand, pinning it in place with his own. “Probably.”

Laurent’s breathing evened out. He didn’t stir when Damen pulled his hand from under his or when Damen stood. To make sure, Damen whispered, “I’ll be back in a minute,” into Laurent’s ear just to see if he’d react. When Laurent remained the way he was, without a muscle on his face twitching to indicate any part of his subconscious remained awake, Damen snuck out with silent steps.

He’d bring a bucket up with him when he came back. And a bottle of water.

Before that, though, he may have a thing or two to solve with a certain brunette.

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hongjoongslut · 3 years

Text

Royal Enemies

psychopath!hongjoong x queen!reader

summary: ever since you were young, kim hongjoong was your enemy. you hated him but he was so perfect in every way. for years, he tried to be with you. due to his criminal family and your royal family, it was taboo. now that you’re both grown, he comes to find you, but not without leaving hints before he shows up.

word count: 3.2k

warnings:royal!au, mentions of blood, knives, parents death but doesn’t describe the actual death, beheading, crime scene photos. hongjoong being kinda a psychopath (obviously), tatted!joong, personalservant!mingi, personalbodyguard!yunho, hongjoong uses a shit ton of pet names, oral (m receiving), talk of birth control, unprotected sex, aftercare, sorta enemies to lovers??, mentions of hongjoong’s gang

A/N: i think that’s all the warnings, let me know if i missed something. also i was inspired by a tiktok imagine to write this 😂 also the italics are when reader is in thought mode

why did he have to be so damn perfect? you were raised to hate his...kind. your parents have had his parents arrested before, even threatened to behead them. he wanted you for so long, even when you were such young children. he would always come to you with a dandelion, saying it would match the yellow earrings you always wore. time after time, you refused him, hurting him and you inside.

your crowing ceremony was filled with the town citizens. you knew hongjoong and his family was banished from this town. you didn’t have to worry about dealing with them no further, or so you thought. unfortunately your parents passed a year after you became queen. you luckily had enough experience and knowledge to fight for yourself.

“your majesty, this was sent in. it has nothing on it but your name. should i throw it away?” your servant asks. “actually Mingi, let me see it please.” he hands you the envelope and bows before leaving you be. you opened the envelope slowly, slightly worried of what was inside. it was a letter from what you can see.

“Y/N, it’s been so long sweetheart. im proud of you finally becoming the queen. you always deserved that crown. you looked gorgeous that day.” you pause reading to see a polariod of you being crowned taped to the back of the envelope. “it’s a gorgeous picture, isn’t it? im going to let you hold it for me while i do some business. im coming back to town soon to see you, my love. you can no longer deny me now that your family is gone. i know you felt the same way about me as i did you. don’t worry pretty princess, everything will be okay. see you soon.-Joongie”

your eyes widen. he was there at the ceremony. he was banished, how did he pass through without detection? part of you felt nervous, knowing his family reputation, but the other actually felt a little...excited? it’s been so long, he’s probably grown into a handsome man. you shake your head, clearing all thoughts.

“everyone, i called you here because someone from my past is supposed to come into town. he isn’t an old friend...well, he kinda is. but he’s dangerous.” you somehow managed to find a sorta recent picture of him. damn did he look good. “his name is kim hongjoong. if you see him, bring him to me immediately, alive. he is too dangerous to be in this town.” your guards all bowed and left, except for yunho. “your majesty?” you turn, seeing your personal guard. “what’s up yunho?” you smile. he really is like a lost puppy. “that’s...the kid from our childhood, right? the one who was so in love with you and would try everyday to be with you?” you sigh, nodding along. “how do you know he’s dangerous? maybe he just wants to reunite?” he’s too innocent. “yunho, his family is an infamous killer group. he was probably born holding a cleaver in his fist. he wants to come here to see me, and me alone. god knows what he’ll do to the people if they get in his way.” he nods. “yes, your majesty. My guards and I will do everything it takes to protect you and this town.” you smile at him, watching him leave the room.

now it’s getting scary. the other day, a dandelion was on your nightstand. none of your guards or anyone else in the castle put it there. notes were left almost everyday, containing pictures of you and stuff he has said to you in the past.

“these will match your yellow earrings perfectly, darling.”

“black has always been your color, my love.”

“i will see you soon. dress nice for me,will you?”

you may have been nervous, but regardless tradition is tradition. for centuries, this town has a big party at the castle to celebrate the queen and her 2 year anniversary. your parents never told you why, and it was kinda confusing. why was it 2 years instead of 5 or 10? you stare at the mirror, preparing yourself to give a speech due to the suspicious activity in the town recently.

“Hello everyone. I know lately there have been some suspicious activity happening around here, but do not fear. my guards have this place locked down. we are safe here. we will have the traditional party at 6. dress as you like and just remember to be careful!” the crowd cheers. you smile and bow before rushing to get ready.

your makeup was done so heavenly. a beautiful smoky eye look to compliment your gorgeous black lace dress. of course, you asked your suitor to add a lace cape. yes, you were extra alright. his words kept replaying in your head. is he coming tonight? he said see you soon. he said to dress pretty. what’s gonna happen? you check your watch, seeing it’s almost time to open the doors. you got this.

it’s been an hour and so far everything has runned smoothly. people have come up to you and thanked you, took pictures with you and some old childhood friends came to catch up and they were totally not jealous.

it’s rounding 10:30 PM and most have left due to having work early next morning. you couldn’t relate. you didn’t realize you had pockets in your dress until now, when you tried to scratch your thigh. some fabrics always make you itch. there was something in there, however. maybe it was a surprise letter from the suitor, or someone in the castle or one of the townspeople? you opened it, all you read was a time.

“12 PM. i suggest you be in the castle, waiting for me on your throne.

-joongie”

you told the guards to end the party early, and to tell everyone to be safe and careful. you sat in your thone, not because he told you to. you wanted to. or maybe it was both. you told yunho of the little note you found and he has been by you ever since.

screams fill your ears. he’s here. yunho eased you, holding his weapon ready. the front doors swung open, revealing a bloody, wearing all black kim hongjoong.

“stop right now, hongjoong.” hongjoong laughs. “Jeong Yunho? it’s been a minute man. hope everything is well. don’t worry, i won’t your pretty little princess. all i want is a talk. “i’m not leaving her side. you’re dangerous.” he laughs, slightly louder. “dangerous? oh please, you remember how i was. i would cry if someone killed a fly near me. i need to talk to her alone.” before yunho could say anything, you stopped him. “i got this yunho, you go check on the other staff and stay away from here.” he hesitated but nodded and ran.

“Y/N. you look as lovely as ever. and you even wore black like i mentioned? you must love me.” you scoff. “i barely remembered you name. what makes you think you can come into my town and scare all these innocent people, when all you wanted was me?” he steps closer, now about a foot in front of you. “you don’t remember how mischievous and sneaky i was? i’d always make a little treasure hunt for you. if you lost your earring, i’d find it fast and make a little hunt for you just so you can find it. plus, the dandelions.” he always was a little mischievous. “so why did you come to see me, joongie?” he smiles. “you really are innocent, aren’t you? i know you know that i was madly in love with you, and still am.” your jaw drops. you knew he loved you then but still now? “you can’t love someone if you know little to nothing about them.” he steps closer, making you grip your hidden knife. gotta love having hidey spots. “really? i saw your eyes light up when they showed the photos of murders my parents did. i always saw it. the way you got excited when they would lock someone up. the way you smiled when they beheaded that guard that was secretly our bitch. you’re a psychopath just as i am. you can just easily hide it.” no, he’s not right. is he? you stood there, trying to find words to spit at him. “princess, listen to me. we can rule this town. there wouldn’t be any criminal activity at all. especially if my crew were part of the guards. i’ll spare you the details for now, but they get the job done efficiently.”

you step back, revealing your knife, which is ironically black. “if you want me joongie, come get me then.” he pulls his bloody knife out, flicking some blood on the marble floor. someone will clean this up later. “you said if i want you, well in what way sweetheart? i don’t want to kill you unless you harm me. but…” he pauses, a smirk crawling into his lips “i want you under me screaming for me. take that as you will, but tell me which way you want so i can know how to proceed. why did he have to be so damn attractive. “then throw your knife to the side. i will mine at the same time.” he lowers his knife, staring at you. “i’ll throw mine, but i’ll let you keep yours honey. in case you need it to protect you from actual harm.” his knife clatters on the floor, spots of blood flying from it. why was it so beautiful? his hands were raised in the air. “do what you want, your majesty.” shouldn’t have said that.

“follow me to my bedroom, i don’t want anyone to see what im about to do to you. it will absolutely scar them.” he smiles. “you’re a kinky queen? was not expecting that.” he starts to laugh but you point right at his adam’s apple. “i would watch what you say right now. i’m in charge of how you die.” he nods, following you.

you have the knife to his back, slowly leading him to sit on your bed. “i wanted to talk in here so it’s more private. this is my business, not the castles.” he smirks, nothing leaving his lips. “why do you..” you pause, feeling your anger boil up. you push him back and crawl on top of him. “always have to be so attractive, yet so dangerous? why do i want you when i know i shouldn’t? tell me why you have been fucking with my head since i was a kid!” you yell, not realizing how close your lips are to his. “because princess, that’s how attraction works. your brain and heart go at war until one wins. how about you end the war and kiss me?” he whispers, grabbing your cheek softly. your breath shakes before you crash your lips to his.

instantly, fire fills your body. you want to make him pay for making you feel this way about him. your tongues fought for dominance. you were going to win, but his hand comes to your throat, bringing you off his lips. “such a dirty girl. are you sure you want this?” yes, more than you fucking know. “maybe i should ask you the same thing, you fucking bottom.” that switched something in him, his eyes fueling with even more lust. he slaps your ass, you do your best to keep your moan in. you won’t win this easily, joongie. “such a filthy fucking mouth for a queen. don’t you think? you may be a brat to others, but you will not be one with me. you will take what i give you and obey me. or else…” his hand grazes your thigh, right near your knife. “we might have to see how well this knife really works.”

he stand you up off the bed. “im gonna take my sweet time with you princess. i’ve been waiting for this for years.” he slowly unzips your back, letting the dress fall to your hips. surprise, i wore expensive lingerie, waiting for you. “look at this, looks like you’re dirtier than i thought. the people think you’re this sweet, innocent woman. i know you’re nothing but a psychopath who loves to play a facade.” you step out of the dress, facing you and hongjoong in the mirror. “look at how sexy you are princess. so beautiful, so pure. this skin…” he stops to feel your body, his main focus on your chest. “so markable...fuck.” you turn to face him, smirking. “get on the bed, criminal.” he quirked his eyebrow, smiling at the name. you’re back on top of him, kissing him fiercely as you unbutton his shirt. his chest reveals so many tattoos that blend so beautifully together. you stopped to feel his toned ink covered chest. “like what you see princess?” you nod, feeling your way to where his pants border his hips. he leans you off him, pulling his pants down. holy shit. he looks so sexy. it looks so.. big. “you’re staring, princess.” you snap out of your thoughts, remembering where you were. he lays you so gently on the bed, slowly kissing down your body. he leaves marks all down your chest. “joongie-“ you moan in such bliss, your hands finding his hair to tug. you can feel your arousal almost running down your thigh. luckily this lingerie set was crotch-less.

he slowly runs his fingers through your folds, groaning when he felt your arousal drown his digits. “so fucking wet baby…fuck”. he slowly inserts one finger, both of you groaning in unison. “so tight..no one has taken proper care of you,have they princess?” you shake your head, your mind too clouded with lust to speak a word. please keep going joongie. he removed his finger, sucking your arousal off. “so sweet, sweeter than anything i’ve ever had.” he comes back to kiss you, slowly to allow you to taste your arousal. you push him back to take off his boxers, watching his cock spring free from the almost offensive material. holy shit. he is big. “don’t worry pretty, it will fit and i’ll make sure to not hurt you...too much” you laugh at his comment. you stick your tongue out to tease his tip. he hisses at the contact. “you better not fucking tease me y/n. you will not like the consequences.” try me. you so wanted to tease him, but you were desperate to have his cock in you one way or another. you slowly lower your mouth almost all the way to the base, beautiful moans and choked groans leaving hongjoong’s lips. “shit, your mouth is so perfect baby.” you lick the underside of his cock, spreading your saliva everywhere. he owes me for ruining my makeup. his hands reach behind your head, placing his hands on you, but not moving. i see what you want. you come off his cock to catch a breath. “fyi joongie, i know what you wanna do.” you smile and wink. he smirks. “what’s your safe world darling?” he grabs your cheek, rubbing it softly. “you’re gonna think it’s stupid, but it’s pepper.” he laughs. “i mean, if it works it works.” you laugh with him, staring into his eyes. why did i choose to ignore this side of him? you slowly ease his cock back into your mouth, his hands resuming his previous placement. he slowly thrust into your mouth, the tip reaching the back of your throat. “fuck..” he sighs. he slowly speeds up, your body is trying to make you gag, but you push it down. i’m not showing him any signs of weakness. his pace is almost inhumane, your throat beginning to burn at the force. “shit shit shit...god you’re so perfect.” he removes your head, lifting it to see your makeup ruined. “i already thought you were gorgeous, but with your makeup ruined, you look so heavenly.” you smile, crawling back into the bed. he follows you, crawling on top. “are you on birth control baby?” he asks as he leaves more hickies down your chest. “y-yes, just fuck me joongie, please” he lines himself up, coating his tip in your arousal. he slowly pushes himself in, watching your face scrunch in pleasure. fuck. he’s so big. “holy shit y/n, i am not gonna last long. your pussy is so fucking perfect” he inches himself in until he bottoms out. his eyes close, the pleasure being too much. “joongie, please move” he pulls back a little, just to push himself all the way back in. his pace started off slow, low groans emitting from his lips. “so beautiful baby, so fucking beautiful” he goes faster, moans filling the room. “so big, so full joongie” he smiles, kissing your forehead. i love him. a knot in your stomach begins to tighten. “so-so close joongie-e..please please let me cum” he thrusts so fast, bringing his hand to rub your clit. “me too angel. you can do it baby, cum all over my fucking cock. show me what a dirty girl you really are.” the knot snaps, your vision flashing white. “good girl.” you’re still coming down from your euphoria when you feel his hot cum paint your walls. he eases himself out of you and lays next to you. “are you okay princess? did i hurt you?” you laugh. that’s really ironic. “im okay joongie. you didn’t hurt me.” you cuddle up in his arms, not wanting to leave your bed. “i know you’re comfy, but i have to clean you up” he gets up, grabbing your hand. “to your bath, my queen”

warmth fills your body. you’ve never let anyone bathe you before. you were way too insecure and wouldn’t dare make one of your workers do so. “such a beautiful woman.” he washes your body, being very careful around your chest area. “how am i gonna hide these baby?” you pout. he giggles, kissing your cheek. “don’t worry my love, i have a right hand woman that is absolutely excellent in makeup. she’s good at covering wounds and etc, so i assume she can hide a hickey.” you smile, tiredness filling your eyes. he dries you off and carries you back to your bed. “i would let you wear my clothes, but they’re kinda dirty at the moment..” you and him laugh. “i’ll be okay. but you owe me.” he nods and bows. he joins you in your bed, cuddling you close. “thank you princess for finally accepting my love. you don’t know how long i’ve wanted this. us together, you.” you were too tired to form a sentence, so you hummed in agreement. should i tell him? you both lay in silence, basking in each other’s warmth. “baby?” you ask, opening your eyes. you lean your head up to see hongjoong’s face. “yes my love?” you smile and kiss him. “I love you.” he smiles and brings you impossibly closer.

“i love you more my queen.”

#ateez #hongjoong smut #hongjoong #atiny

59 notes · View notes

joonie-beanie · 4 years

Text

Helping Hands

Pairing: Barbatos x Reader

Word Count: 5,526

Preview: The royal butler decides to pay you a visit when he hears that your back is acting up.

However, when he offers to give you a massage, things get a little out of hand.

** Please note that this is a cross-posting **

This chapter is also being posted on 7/10/2020 as a part of my “Devil Doms” series on AO3.

Obviously, you’re not as close to the residents of the Demon King’s Palace, or the other exchange students, as you are with the demon brothers. That’s to be expected, considering you literally live with the seven demons, and are pretty much around them at all times.

However, your relationships with the others are far from distant.

In fact, for the last two months, Diavolo and Barbatos have been inviting you over for tea every Sunday evening.

At first, you’d found it a bit strange to partake in a tea party so late in the day, and on a Sunday no less, but you’ve grown quite fond of your quiet evenings with the Devildom Prince and his faithful butler. Usually conversation is pleasant. Diavolo loves to ask you about your experiences in the human world, and never gets enough of your stories—even if it’s just you retelling simple parts of your day.

It has also been a good opportunity to get to know Diavolo and Barbatos more. Diavolo is very forthcoming with any information you’d like to know, but still tends to have this…front about him. Like he’s willing to let you in, but just not too deep. After all, he is the ruler of the Devildom, so you don’t blame him for keeping certain things to himself.

Barbatos…also feels like a puzzle, but a puzzle that with time, he will gladly let you put together. In the past month, you’ve managed to learn an array of information about him—his favorite foods, what he likes to drink, what he does when he’s not tending to Diavolo, etc.

Apparently, he enjoys baking, reading, and taking long, hot baths. He’s always formal out of habit, but ever so slowly has begun to shed such formality with you—making little remarks that would have seemed out of character in the past, but are becoming much more frequent nowadays.

In fact, last week when you’d showed up exhausted, he’d quipped about whether you were having any “late nights” with the brothers. The twinkle in his eye had confirmed that yes, he was implying it in a sexual manner, and Diavolo’s full belly laugh when he’d seen the shock and embarrassment on your face had echoed throughout the entire castle.

So, least to say, you and Barbatos are starting to get along quite well.

Unfortunately…you’re not sure that you’ll be able to make your weekly tea tonight—on account of the fact that you can barely walk.

Hand pressed against your lower back, you openly groan in pain as you press to your feet. You need to get to your DDD to let the two know of your predicament, but of course you’d managed to leave your phone on the other side of the room.

With your body curved at a horribly awkward angle, you stagger your way across the wooden floor. You think the source of your problem is a kink in your neck, that is throwing your entire body out of alignment, but you can’t say for sure considering everything hurts.

Sighing, you unlock your DDD and open up the messaging app. You click into your chat with the royals.

You: Hi there. I’m not sure I’ll be able to make it tonight. I’m not feeling too well…

It only takes a few seconds before Diavolo responds.

Diavolo: I was actually just about to text you. Something quite urgent came up, so I’m unavailable this evening.

Diavolo: Also, I’m so sorry to hear you’re not feeling well! Please, be sure to get rest and take care of yourself!

Smiling at his kind words, you respond with your gratitude. A moment later, you see ellipses pop up at the bottom of the chat, but they soon disappear. No message comes through, and you frown a little. However, after another few seconds, you receive a new notification.

A text from Barbatos, but outside of the group chat the two of you share with Diavolo.

Barbatos: May I ask what’s the matter? I was intending to still invite you over for tea since I enjoy your company regardless.

Barbatos: If you’re ill, however, I’d like to know if there’s anything I can do to help.

You’d be lying if you said a small part of you didn’t swoon at his concern, and the declaration of the fact that he enjoys having you around.

You: I have a kink in my back, and it’s honestly affecting my ability to do…anything, at the moment. I would have loved to have tea with you, though.

Barbatos responds right away.

Barbatos: If it’s alright with you, I’d be more than happy to bring the tea to you instead. Lord Diavolo has already departed for the evening, and I have nothing else to do.

Barbatos: Plus, I’ve heard that I’m a pretty skilled masseuse, as well. I may be able to assist with your current ailment.

Your heart flutters a bit at the idea of letting Barbatos massage you, since you’ve yet to be physical with the butler beyond hugs, but you can’t deny how appealing a massage sounds right about now. Your muscles are oh so sore, and at this point, you should be accepting any type of help you can get.

You: I don’t want to impose, but that sounds wonderful…

Barbatos: Think nothing of it. I will be over shortly. Do not feel the need to come and greet me, I shall ask Lucifer to guide me to your room.

You text back your confirmation before stumbling back to your bed—rolling onto the messy sheets with a pained hiss as you wait for Barbatos to arrive.

Only 20 or so minutes later, you hear the sound of knuckles wrapping against your bedroom door.

“Y/N?” It’s Lucifer’s voice. “Barbatos is here to see you.”

“Come in,” you call, knowing full well that you probably look a mess—laying belly down on your mattress with one leg hiked high, and one arm hanging low. It’s the comfiest position you could find, though.

Lucifer turns the knob and steps into the room first, a frown tugging at his lips when he notes how you’re positioned on your bed. Barbatos follows him in, worry in his eyes as well, but he still manages to smile.

“My, you weren’t kidding when you mentioned having a kink in your back.”

“I think death is approaching,” you respond, overly dramatic, and your words have both Barbatos and Lucifer chuckling.

“I shall leave you two to enjoy your tea. Please contact me if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Lucifer.”

With that, the Avatar of Pride makes his way from your room—closing the door behind him. Now, it’s just you and Barbatos.

“I think the tea may have to wait,” he comments, moving to set the basket he’d brought with him on the table at the far side of your room. You note that it’s woven wood—practically a picnic basket, and smile a little. How cute.

Forgetting about your pain for a moment, you watch as the butler opens the basket up and reaches inside. You expect him to produce some tea cups, or saucers, but instead he pulls out what looks to be a bottle of oil.

Realization strikes you, and your cheeks begin to heat up.

“You know, Barbatos, you really don’t need to give me a massage…,” you tell him quietly, mumbling the words as you watch him begin to roll up his sleeves. He’s dressed more casually than usual—his overcoat and tie nowhere to be found. Instead, he’s simply donning his green button up shirt, and a pair of black slacks.

It’s…a good look on him. Especially with the sleeves folded neatly up to his elbows. And when he slowly plucks off his white gloves, revealing fingernails painted the same color as the highlights in his hair, you feel your heart skip a beat.

“It’s clear that you’re in desperate need of one, and I already reassured you that you’re not imposing,” he tells you, making his way to your side with the bottle of oil in his hands. Per usual, there’s a pleasant smile on his face as he surveys you.

You hope that you’re not blushing brightly enough for him to notice.

“It’s just that…I’ve never had a massage before, so…,” you trail off, and it’s not a lie. Massages have always seemed like a luxury to you, so you’ve never gone out of your way to get one, despite how much you’ve heard about their wonders.

“Ah,” Barbatos hums, a look of understanding in his eyes. “Well, we can always stop if it has an adverse effect on the situation. And I of course want you to feel comfortable.”

His words put your mind at ease. He’s always so kind, no matter who he’s talking to, or who is watching.

“So…how do we…start?” you ask, feeling far too awkward. You already have a suspicion that you know what he’s going to say, and yet—

“Are you mobile enough to take your shirt off?”

Ah, yep, there it is.

If there was any hope of hiding your blush before, there’s certainly none now. And yes, you’re aware that Barbatos is only offering to do this because you’re friends, and because you’re in pain. There should be no reason to be embarrassed by the situation, and yet you are.

You take a second to try and calm your mind.

“I…I think I can--,” you eventually say, attempting to sit up. However, as soon as you place your palms on the mattress and try to push yourself up, a bolt of pain shoots straight down your spine, and a high-pitched cry falls from your lips.

Barbatos’ hand is immediately on your back—a gesture of comfort. The warmth from his palm soaks through your t-shirt, and a small part of you wishes that he’d make a point of touching you more often.

“Well, I will take that as a resounding no.”

There’s a perplexed frown on his face as he looks at you—his worry deepening by the second.

“Can you lift your arms, at the very least?”

You grunt, miraculously managing to lift both of your arms above your head. Barbatos breathes a laugh, the position a little amusing. You’re beginning to look like a horrible contortionist.

“Would you be opposed to me undressing you?” Your brain short circuits for a moment. “Since you were able to lift your arms, it’s likely the easiest option at this point.”

“Sure,” you respond without hesitation. You’re desperately trying to keep your wits about you, and yet, you can’t help the way your body jolts when you feel Barbatos’ fingers grip the hem of your shirt.

He pauses for a moment.

“Did I startle you?”

“No…,” you grumble, causing him to laugh. He drags his hands upwards—the t-shirt slowly peeling up your back. When he gets near your breasts, you manage to inch your body off the mattress so it doesn’t get…well, caught.

Of course, as Barbatos pulls the fabric past your chest, you also realize that you hadn’t bothered to put on a bra today—entirely due to the fact that 1. Your body was too stiff to attempt even putting one on, and 2. Bras suck.

So now here you are—Barbatos finally ridding you of your shirt—which means you’re entirely bare from the waist up. Oh, and the only thing saving you from being completely naked in front of the royal butler is the pair of shorts you’re wearing, which suddenly feel far too short, and far too tight for comfort.

“Are you alright?” he questions. His hand settles between your shoulder blades, and you feel goosebumps rise on your flesh. You’re so used to the sensation of his soft gloves, that the skin on skin contact is making you react in ways you hadn’t expected…

“I’m okay,” you respond, nodding a little. You move your arms so they’re folded beneath your cheek, and you carefully turn your head—facing yourself away from Barbatos. The last thing you want is him seeing how red you’ve become.

“If so, then I’ll begin,” he says. You hear him pop open the cap on the bottle, and you take a quiet breath—trying to prepare yourself. “If you ever feel uncomfortable, please let me know.”

“Will do, Barb.”

You mumble the words without thinking, and it takes your brain a second to realize what you’ve said.

“I-I mean--,” your words cut off, breath hitching as Barbatos grips your sides. He moves his hands gently against your back, spreading the oil on his palms across your soft skin.

“Barb?” he echoes, chuckling to himself. “That’s a first.”

“I--,” you shiver as he continues rubbing his hands up and down your spine. Apparently, you’re much more sensitive to touch than you’d realized. Just great. “—just…I mean. Slip of the tongue?”

“You may call me “Barb” if you so wish,” he responds, and you can hear the amusement lining his tone. The demon drags his hands back up to your shoulders, his thumbs kneading at the tense muscles near your neck, and whine leaves your lips.

“Good or bad?” he questions, and as another shiver rakes up your spine, you realize just how fucked you are. Your body, of course, aches beneath the surface, but your skin is just so sensitive. It takes all of your willpower to keep from writhing against the sheets as he continues his ministrations—rubbing circles between your shoulder blades.

“Um…a little of both?”

He hums considerately at your comment, his eyes surveying you closely. Even as you attempt to stifle the instinctive reactions of your body, there’s a subtle twitch of your muscles—a small intake of breath, or a flex of your toes.

When he reaches your mid-back—his fingers curling around your sides as he presses his thumbs into the muscles near your spine—he hears you gasp. Your body stiffens, fingers digging into the sheets near your head. Barbatos debates stopping, but…he gets the feeling that you’re not in pain.

As the thought occurs to him, a little bit of heat rise to his face. Until now, he hadn’t thought twice about your current position, or the fact that he’s touching you so intimately, but…

Barbatos swallows, yet his hands continue on their journey down the length of your back. He works slowly, doing his best to thoroughly rub every inch of skin—hoping to soothe the tight muscles that lay beneath. Perhaps if he focuses on the task at hand, he’ll forget about the little whines that spill from your lips, or the way your body shivers beneath his fingers.

As Barbatos faces his own dilemma, you find yourself rapidly descending into insanity. Each second that ticks by with the demon butler’s hands roaming your body has tendrils of heat snaking through your limbs. As much as you attempt to ignore the way his touches are making you feel, it’s nearly impossible.

Quicker than you had expected, you feel arousal beginning to pool between your legs. You’d hadn’t intended to get turned on by the massage, but here you are—desperately trying to smother the array of embarrassing sounds that have built in your chest.

However, the instant Barbatos’ hands move to your lower back—thumbs pressing into the muscles near your spine—your lips part.

“Fuck,” you moan, your body curving into the mattress. Your toes curl, knees bending as your calves lift from the sheets.

Barbatos’ hands still. You go stiff, all of the blood in your body rushing to your face.

“I…Barbatos, I am so sorry, I—”

“I’ve never witnessed anyone react to a massage so…vocally,” he says, picking his words carefully. His fingers coast up your sides, once against making you shiver, and you bite your lip to keep from gasping when you feel his hair tickle your cheek.

“Would you prefer if I stopped now?” The words are whispered into your ear. You can feel his hot breath on your skin—the curl of his fingers around your ribcage as he holds you—and your heartbeat quickens.

“I…I don’t want you to stop,” you respond honestly, voice quiet. “But I’m not sure I can stop myself either…”

“I never could have imagined that you would be so affected by a simple massage,” he chuckles, his fingers giving you a little squeeze as he leans back, retaking his standing position beside you. You release a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

“I didn’t realize I would be either…I don’t blame you if you want to stop.”

“As long as you’re alright, I would like to keep going,” he informs you, his palms coasting down either side of your spine until his grip is once again settled near the sensitive spot on your tailbone. You keen as his hands cup either side of your ass, thumbs working into the tense muscles at the center of your back.

“Hah…,” your fingers once again grip the sheets. Now that Barbatos has addressed your reactions to his touches, you feel a bit more playful. “Are you actually enjoying my reactions?”

He chuckles. “Would it be inappropriate if I said yes?”

The gears in your head grind to a halt. Your tongue pokes out to wet your lips. That’s not what you had expected.

“…Really?”

“Perhaps it is a bit disgraceful for me to admit, but…,” his movements still, his fingers flexing and giving your ass the lightest of squeezes. “…I would very much enjoy it if we could continue.”

You’re surprised to hear such words from him, but you’d be lying if you said they didn’t excite you.

You nod your consent. “Go ahead.”

Barbatos reaches for the bottle of oil at his feet, pouring a little more into his hands. You jolt when his palms encase one of your thighs—his touch dragging down your leg until he gets to your ankle. He then repeats the action on your other leg, a smile tugging at his lips as he notes your body’s instinctual response to his touches.

However, he doesn’t make comment. Instead, he focuses on working at the muscles in your thighs—his thumbs carving a path down the center of the supple flesh. As he does so, you become acutely aware of how close his fingers are to your clothed womanhood.

The realization causes more wetness to pool between your legs, and you bite your lip, wondering exactly how much longer you’ll be able to withstand the massage before you finally crack.

You want to say that your current affliction is entirely your fault—that it’s solely a product of your oversensitive body’s reaction to the massage—but you know it’s not. Barbatos is obviously getting something out of this situation as well, and that something definitely bridges beyond the pride of being a good masseuse.

Your toes curl as he works at the muscles in your calves—a sigh heavy with need passing through your parted lips.

You want him to touch you more. Where you’re aching to be touched.

“Barb--,” you start, mentally preparing yourself for the embarrassing question you’re about to ask, but you never get there. Barbatos presses his fingers into the back of your knee, and a moan tears from your throat.

The butler pauses, his gaze turning to your face. Until now, you’ve spent the massage facing away from him, but when he glances up, he finds that you’re returning his stare. Your entire face is red, bottom lip tugged between your teeth as a clear sign of your embarrassment. However, he can tell by the look in your eyes—your pupils blown wide—that you’re aroused.

His heart thumps painfully against his ribs.

“Barb, I--,” you don’t know what to say, entirely out of sorts. You’re ashamed, and horny, and a part of you wants to run away, but another part wants him to continue forever.

“Y/N,” he drags you out of your inner turmoil by speaking your name. One of his hands reaches forward, cupping your cheek. He leans in, your faces mere inches apart, and you finally notice the blush on his cheeks. It’s subtle, but there.

His gaze falls to your lips.

“May I kiss you?”

“Yes,” you breathe immediately, and he closes the gap without second thought.

The kiss is tender—a little hesitant, but full of need, and not just from you. Sighing pleasantly, you mold your lips with his once more, and then again, but before you can turn the kisses into a full out make out session, you feel Barbatos’ palm on your ass.

His hand moves downward, sneaking between your snug thighs. When he presses his digits against your clothed sex, you can’t help the lewd gasp that leaves you. Your hips instinctively grind against him, seeking more friction, and you feel him smile.

“Shall I stop?” he whispers.

“No, don’t,” you shake your head, and Barbatos leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. He’s pleased to hear those words.

Sitting back, Barbatos surveys you—watching you closely as he drags two of his fingers down the seam of your shorts. He hadn’t noticed before, but your arousal is already soaked into the dark fabric—a clear sign that you’d been enjoying his touches up until now.

When he finds that special bundle of nerves, drawing out another quiet cry falling from your lips, he chuckles. You bury your head in your folded arms, hips rocking back against his fingers.

“Ah, shit,” you breathe, unable to help yourself. You’re already so stupidly pent up from the massage—even him touching you through your shorts feels delicious. And Barbatos can’t help but get hard at the sight of you—your almost naked body curving against the mattress as you lift your hips and rock your pussy back and forth on his digits.

Reaching his free hand down, the demon butler gently squeezes your ass, relishing the little moan it draws from you. He helplessly craves to hear more of your sounds.

His fingers leave your clit, but before you can think to whine at the lost, you feel his digits curl around the crotch of your shorts. You freeze, heart hammering against your ribs, but don’t indicate for him to stop. While you’re nervous, you want this.

And Barbatos makes note of your reaction, giving you a few ample seconds to express any discontent. However, you do not, and so the butler tugs your shorts to the side, revealing your womanhood. You bite your lip, wriggling as his other hand slips beneath your shorts—once again taking hold of your ass without the fabric barrier.

As he holds you steady, two of his digits once more slide between your slick folds, gathering your arousal. You expect him to go back to rubbing your clit, but instead he curls his fingers into your pussy, and a gasp falls from your lips.

“Oh, fuck, Barb.” You groan. Your fingers take hold of the bed sheets, lip tugging between your teeth as you feel him experimentally pump his fingers in and out of you—stretching out your wet walls.

He moves slowly—testing the waters, and you clench around him—enjoying the girth of his fingers. Barbatos can’t take his eyes off of you.

“Is this alright?” he questions, curling his digits. The action has you moaning, and you nod your head.

“More, please.”

Barbatos breathes out through his nose at that, a little amused at the sound of your need.

Kneeling against the edge of the mattress to get a better angle, Barbatos begins picking up his pace. His fingers curl against your walls, and he smiles when he finds your sensitive spot—a surprised gasp escaping you. Immediately your stomach is curving into the mattress—hips pressing back as you attempt to take him deeper.

Barbatos gives your ass a squeeze, eyes sparkling. He debates asking if you’re feeling good, but he already knows the answer.

With his finger still fucking into you—your hips now rocking back ever so slightly to meet him—Barbatos moves his other hand between your legs. His thumb rests against your clit, drawing languid circles, and your breath catches.

“Fuck,” you bite the word out, muscles tensing. The demon butler feels your pussy clench around his fingers—orgasm quickly rising to the surface.

“Barb, please,” you whine, tugging at the sheets. Your heart is racing, breathless pants falling from your lips. Always one to please, Barbatos is more than happy to oblige. He presses against your clit harder, rubbing quicker, and in less than a minute, you’re coming undone for him.

Moan slipping past your lips, you tumble into your orgasm. Your pussy contracts around his still moving fingers, waves of pleasure rolling throughout your body. The butler doesn’t pull his digits from inside of you until he sees your body go slack against the sheets.

“You’re certainly one hell of a masseuse,” you mumble once you’ve regained your bearings, causing him to chuckle.

“I can assure you most of my clients don’t end up with my fingers inside of them.”

“No?” you question, a playful post-orgasm glow on your face as you turn to look at him. He smiles fondly at the sight of your pleasantly flushed cheeks.

“No,” he reassures, eyes creasing as he seats himself on the mattress beside you. For a moment, the two of you simply stare at each other, a sense of peace settling over the two of you. Then, your gaze falls to his lap. The tent against his slacks is quite obvious.

Noting where your eyes have strayed, Barbatos has the humility to blush.

“I apologize for my…reaction,” he quickly excuses himself, glancing away. “I assure you I didn’t intend to take advantage of you.”

Instead of responding, you press onto your hands and knees and turn to face him. With your face dangerously close to his crotch, you bat your eyelashes up at him innocently.

“If you don’t mind, I’d be perfectly alright with helping you in return, Barbatos.”

The butler looks shocked at the offer, but after a few seconds, he lifts a hand and gently cards it through your hair—a soft look of hunger in his eyes.

“Only if you wish.”

Smiling, you immediately prop onto your elbows—knees folding on the bed beneath you—and reach out to fiddle with his pants. Within seconds, you’ve managed to free his length. Your hand immediately wraps around the base of his shaft, and Barbatos closes his eyes at the sensation, taking a deep breath.

You smile at his pleased reaction, your mouth moving to press a kiss against his slit before you stick out your tongue and roll it around the head of his cock. And when you take him into your mouth—your hand still fisted around the lower half of his length, stroking languidly—his breath catches. The fingers in your hair grip a bit tighter.

You giggle around his cock.

“Good?” you question, pulling off. Your hand moves in bolder strokes against him, making up for the absence of your mouth as you turn to stare up at the demon. There’s a blush dusting his cheeks.

“I believe you’re asking a question you already know the answer to,” he responds, tongue darting out to wet his lips. You smile cheekily at his words, fingers tightening ever-so-slightly around his length. You see his jaw clench.

“Good.”

Turning, you once more take the tip of his cock between your lips. You focus yourself on pleasing Barbatos—alternating between trailing your tongue against him, and sucking him into your mouth. The combination of your hand pumping his shaft, and your mouth concentrating on his head is quite honestly devastating, and within minutes the demon butler finds himself nearing his release.

“Y/N,” he warns, his voice slightly strained. He gives your roots a little tug, and you release him from your mouth with an audible pop. You’re seriously going to drive him crazy.

“Yes?” you question, your hand continuing to stroke him. You feel his cock jump in your grip.

“Stay like this,” he says, keeping his hold on your hair. You take that as a sign to get him off with just your hand, and you don’t complain. If that’s his preference, then you’re more than happy to go with it.

Aware of his impending orgasm, you simply continue your ministrations—your fist pumping his shaft until he finally reaches his breaking point. With a shaky breath, Barbatos spills his seed into your hand. His chest rises and falls quickly as you pump him through his orgasm without missing a beat.

You only stop when he’s milked dry—his length beginning to go soft in your grasp.

“Is that fair payment for the massage?” you ask, looking up at him with a smile. He loosens his grip on your hair—his hand moving to cup your cheek as he stares at you. You can see the post-orgasm satisfaction swimming in his green eyes.

“No payment was required,” he tells you honestly. “But yes, that was very much enjoyable.”

A warm feeling of contentment settling in your chest, you move to sit up, but pause when you realize that you’re still topless. Eyes going wide, you cross your arms over your chest, face heating up, and Barbatos chuckles.

“After all we’ve experienced together tonight, you’re suddenly coy about me seeing your breasts?”

“You hush,” you tell him, swinging your legs off the side of the bed. You reach down to fetch your discarded t-shirt, and when you stand straight, an arm wraps around your waist from behind.

“You’re covered in oil, so I would suggest showering,” Barbatos tells you, pressing a soft kiss to your hair. The contact is only for a brief moment—his touch disappearing as he separates himself, taking a step back—and yet your heart flutters. “I’ll prepare the tea while you clean up.”

“Okay…,” you agree, glancing over your shoulder at him. He’s smiling pleasantly, looking far too put together for someone that just came a minute before. There’s not a hair out of place on his head—or even a stain on his trousers.

How unfair.

Turning, you head into your bathroom to rinse off, and Barbatos immediately busies himself with readying your beverages for the evening.

By the time you return from your shower—t-shirt back in place, and a towel atop your damp hair, the room is set up for a tea party. Barbatos is seated on one side of the table, casually surveying a book that you’d left on your desk. One you’d borrowed from Satan.

“I hope you don’t mind me taking up so much of your evening,” he says when he spots you, setting down the reading material.

“Not at all,” you say, moving to join him. Despite the newly shared intimacy between the two of you, the atmosphere feels comfortable, and you’re grateful for that.

Standing, Barbatos pours you both a cup of tea, and things fall into place as usual. You spend a long while chatting—catching up on events of the previous week, and talking about whatever topics cross your mind. By the time the snacks are gone, and the tea has gone cold, it’s quite late.

“I apologize for staying until such an hour,” he says as you help him clean the table. The screen of your DDD indicates that it’s already past 11. You shake your head.

“Seriously, Barb, it’s no big deal. I lost track of time too.”

He can’t help but chuckle at your nickname for him. It’s a nickname that will be solely reserved for you to say.

“Still, it is a school night. I’d best not stay any longer, or I fear Lucifer will have my head.”

“Well, I can’t exactly disagree with that,” you respond with a laugh, holding your arms in front of you. Your eyes trail on him as he finishes packing the basket he’d arrived with. He then picks it up, and starts for your door. You quietly follow after him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” you ask, although you already know you will. Of course you will—Barbatos is always at RAD during the week.

Nonetheless, the demon butler smiles at you.

“Yes, I look forward to seeing you.”

With that, he grasps the doorknob and pulls your door open. However, he makes it only one step into the hall before he pauses, turning back to face you.

“Oh, and Y/N?”

You blink. “Hmm?”

“If you’d ever like another massage, please don’t hesitate to let me know. It seems to have worked wonders for you.”

A playful grin pulls at his lips, and he’s gone before you are able to fully digest his words. It takes you a good few seconds to realize what he means—your eyes looking down at yourself, and registering that you’re standing and walking without a sliver of pain.

“Ah!” you say, shocked, and you swear you hear him laugh from up the hall.

#om!#obey me #barbatos #barbatos fic #barbatos smut #om! smut #obey me smut #obey me fic #om! fic

986 notes · View notes

lovelyirony · 4 years

Note

that rhodeytony piece with the bots........... iconic. do you think we could have more of that sweet sweet mit era?? I just think they’re neat

Look. Rhodey hadn’t meant to build another robot. But Tony was at some business conference for the weekend, and Dum-E was just pitifully sad. If Tony had been there, he would’ve convinced Rhodey that Dum-E is a drama queen and acts like the end of the world is happening at any minor inconvenience.

But why not give Dum-E a little sibling? This is how U comes to be, and he’s quite the gentleman, far more gentle than his big brother.

Rhodey enjoys teaching him how to pick up socks and shoes, and how to put the coffee mugs on the counter gently, something that Dum-E is not good at yet, but they’re trying their best. (He has a stuffed coffee mug that they got from the pet store that he’s flung at every single surface so far.)

Tony comes back from his business conference (which ugh) looking for cuddles, dinner, and maybe a movie date night if they can get Dum-E to stop trying to escape the apartment.

What he isn’t expecting is for his boyfriend to be mediating a fight between two robots.

Two.

He stares at his boyfriend for a moment.

“Rhodey, darling, is Dum-E having a...play-date?”

Rhodey freezes.

“Oh!” He says, grinning. “I, um...made him a sibling?”

“And they’re...fighting?”

“Well, for now. Dum-E’s mad because he didn’t get to put actual coffee mugs on the counter, and U is mad because Dum-E stole the couch blanket. I think U is really into decoration!”

“Yeah, that explains everything,” Tony says faintly, sitting. “So...U? Like, the letter?”

“Yeah, you like it?”

“And you thought that it made a good name for what?”

“Well, it was more of a placeholder, honestly. But then he liked it!”

U looks over at Tony curiously.

“U, this is Tony. Your other dad. We used part of his code to make you!”

The arm bumps softly against Tony’s, which is an improvement from Dum-E, who tends to go full-force. (Although they’ve worked on it.)

“So...” Tony says. “You think with U, we won’t need to look for a babysitter for date night?”

“No, we will. We definitely will. Dum-E hasn’t adjusted to a sibling yet.”

“Poor baby,” Tony coos, patting Dum-E on the claw. “You thought you were going to be the only attention-seeker for a while, didn’t you?”

He glowers, wheeling back and acting very high-and-mighty for a robot who just threw the equivalent of a tantrum.

Rhodey looks at Tony, kissing him on the forehead as he leans over to lay on his legs.

“How was the business conference, honey?”

“Utter shit. I didn’t need to go, I was an ego boost for Obie to tote around.”

“Told you that you shouldn’t have gone.”

“If I said ‘no’ one more time, we would’ve had to have a phone call about my ‘five year plan’ and ‘legacy’ bullshit. You know that that gives me a migraine. Besides, he gave me a gift certificate to a fancy restaurant, so that means we get to have a good meal one of these weekends when you visit.”

“Who said I would visit with you?”

“Because Jarvis adores you and I think Ana wants to adopt you and force you to stay.”

“You make a compelling argument,” Rhodey says, pretending to think about it. “I’ll...consider it.”

Tony snorts.

“And they say I’m the asshole here.”

Two years later, Dum-E and U demand that they get a sibling. The dads are back home together (for now) and Jarvis has grown tired of reason.

“They want a sibling, Sir.”

“What, each other isn’t enough?”

“They have requested many movie nights where there are siblings or groups of friends, and I think they want to, in a sense, replicate the scenarios.”

“They’ve already done all of it? Wasn’t it them who got onto a plane for DC just because they wanted to see Pops?”

“Yes, yes it was.”

“You know, J, I still think that you helped them with that one.”

“I most certainly did not.”

(Jarvis totally did. He gets bored, you know? Besides, Colonel Rhodes hadn’t been home for three months, which should have counted for cruel and unusual punishment.)

“Well, regardless of your guilt in certain situations, we’ll have a family discussion about maybe a new sibling.”

Rhodey gets a text as he’s grocery shopping.

hey, need to talk about family stuff. can you also pick up some more colby jack cheese?

sure. what’s it about?

your son has decided he wants a sibling. he convinced dum-e....

got it.

Rhodey laughs to himself as he turns his cart around, going towards the dairy section. Of course U would decide something like that, it makes sense.

Tony is looking at Rhodey with a disappointed look on his face.

“This is all your fault.”

“How is this my fault?”

“You dote on the boys too much.”

“Oh, I do that? Who makes them Halloween costumes every year and hosts a party with all of the other appliances we’ve made over the years?”

“Oh like you hate those, Mr. ‘Here’s-the-hand-made-Halloween-playlist’.”

“True,” Rhodey says, setting down the bags. “Help me put away all of this stuff, half of it is yours anyway.”

“We have a shared fridge, Honeybear.”

“Tell that to your pomegranates taking up about two shelves!”

“Only for now, and half of those are Pepper’s! They’re not all mine.”

“Do you think she would want a say in the robot? After all, she does have to deal with U and Dum-E worshiping the ground she walks on.”

“And she is the reason that Dum-E usually succeeds in his smoothie-making,” Tony admits. “Yeah, sure, invite her over.”

Whenever Pepper is asked what it’s like having to be a personal assistant to Tony Stark, she always wants to answer with something like “oh, it’s really fulfilling to help a company reach its goal and learn so much from my boss to apply to what comes next” or even “oh, it’s nice.”

She got invited to dinner, and is now in a conversation about whether or not Dum-E and U, her boss’s children, should get a sibling.

And the fact that her boss’s children are robots, have two dads, and think that Pepper is the best thing since life itself.

“Why do they need a sibling?” Pepper asks, chewing on her pasta.

“Because they’re bored, and we think that maybe we’ll stop getting calls from the fire stations around town that they’re trying to wreak havoc again,” Rhodey says. “They’ll want to teach the new sibling how life works around the house, and we can start on security measures.”

“Can’t you just put a genetic lock on the door or something?” Pepper asks.

“They’re surpassed it,” Tony says grumpily.

“How?”

“Don’t look at me!” Tony defends. “Look at Jim-dear, who is obsessed with true crime documentaries! They picked up how to gain evidence and use it for proof from him and Forensic Files!”

Pepper puts her head in her hands.

“Just once, I wish that we had a dinner to discuss a business proposal or something normal instead of whether or not your two boys need a sibling.”

“Well, we are thinking about a daughter,” James admits. “And we wanted to talk to you about that.”

“Why, because I’m the only female either of you know?!”

“No,” Tony says quickly. “We know plenty of women!”

“Name seven.”

“Plead the fifth,” Rhodey jokes. “But you spend time here, and so we wanted to know what you’d want to see in a robot.”

“How the hell should I know?”

“You work for the best tech mogul in two hundred years,” Tony says.

“Tones, you’re entirely too cocky.”

“Oh shut up babe,” Tony says, no real heat to the sentiment. “Besides, I’ve treated you well, haven’t I?”

“Other than embarrassing me in front of every single government official every time you interact, sure.”

“You love it, they hate it, win-win,” Tony says, stirring around his mocktail. “But Pepper, seriously. What do you think about a third robot?”

“Well, can’t get anymore chaotic,” Pepper sighs. “And I think having a girl around would be...nice. Not as chaotic.”

“You saying girls don’t bring as much chaos?”

“No,” Pepper says. “I’m just saying that we know when to bring it.”

Butterfingers is born, and she is the most perfect definition of a “daddy’s girl” any robot has ever been. She wheels around with grace, although she can’t stop bumping into things and dropping things, being worse than Dum-E. (Which he actually adores.)

She follows Pepper along in awe, and can be seen usually in her office.

Curiously enough, the only time she doesn’t live up to her name is in Pepper’s office, where she handles things with grace and Pepper gives her little tasks to do, like delivering cups of pens to employees or papers.

Rhodey gets her (and the brothers) little souvenirs from his time away, and Tony has an absolute ball of a time making them all costumes and taking a million little pictures that are hung up everywhere in the building.

But perhaps the crowning achievement are the Christmas photos.

Usually, Stark Industries will take pictures of their employees, put a newsletter out, and wish everyone a happy holiday and all that.

But then the employees have an entirely different idea.

It comes from one of Pepper’s assistants after she’s made CEO, Julia.

“Why not have the bots be the Christmas picture?” she muses, restacking some of the papers Miss Potts had to sign. “They’re always around the office, and they’re the unofficial mascots of the business. I think it’d be fun to see their Christmas hijinks!”

Pepper smiles.

“Julia, remind me to add a little extra to the Christmas bonus.”

Rhodey finds the idea to be the best idea anyone has come up with in years. (Although it just gives him an excuse to take more pictures of the bots during the festivities.)

Dum-E is only too happy to finally be allowed within two feet of tinsel. (Unfortunate incident in 1998.) U is very excited to show off his understanding of symmetry and how to pick out the perfect tree, and Butterfingers just wants Pepper to tie ribbons around her wheels so that she looks “extra-pretty.”

Stark Industries’ holiday card involves Dum-E and U at either side of the tree, with U gently readjusting one of the many ornaments they’ve had the bots make over the years, and Dum-E is trying to pull off a ribbon from the top of the tree. Butterfingers is at the center, guarding any attempt to unwrap presents, and presenting her bow-filled-wheels.

Pepper has the picture framed in her office.

#rhodeytony #ironhusbands #rhodey #tony stark #pepper potts #u #butterfingers #dum-e #iron fam #anyways yes U is very good at decoration #dum-e is not but that's okay bc he's enthusiastic #pepper is done with her boss. so done. but she loves them all #rhodey loves his husband so much and so dearly #lovelyirony writes

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