#I definitely... did Not spend several minutes worth of time looking over and staring at the gutspill art of him... not at all.............. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

breadqueen95 · 4 years ago

Text

Dress - Bucky Barnes

bucky barnes x fem!reader

wc: 5k

plot: bucky and y/n’s relationship is new, and they don’t want to share with their friends just yet. but something as simple as a dress can change anyone’s mind, even the winter soldier.

content warnings: kissing. physical affection. flirting. allusions to sex. drinking. being drunk. language. bucky being a flirt.

a/n: this is for @natasha-romancff and her taylor swift writing challenge! it took me awhile, but i’ve had a ton of fun writing this. so many bucky fics are angsty, and rightly so the man has some TRAUMA. but for my first bucky fic, based on dress by taylor swift, i wanted something happier for him

***

Damn. That was a lot of leg.

“I don’t know,” you muttered as you stared into the mirror, “aren’t these things…a little classier than this?”

“Uh…have you met Tony Stark?” Natasha grumbled as she continued to scroll through her phone. “The man has never been classy a day in his life.”

“Well I know he isn’t, but fancy people show up to these things. I just don’t want to embarrass myself.” You were currently standing in front of the full-length mirror in Wanda’s room, staring at the reflection of a woman who didn’t quite look like you.

But it was you, wasn’t it? It was just…that you was wearing a very short, very sexy red cocktail dress. The sweetheart neckline was a nice touch, but the back was completely open. And that hemline? Definitely hiked way up past your knees.

“Y/n, relax,” Wanda reassured in her lilting accent, “sure, the dress is a little…spicier…than you’re used to, but it’s in a good way.”

“I’m pretty sure every single person would be able to tell I spend my days in tactical gear. God, I’m not sure I even know how to walk in heels this high!”

Heaving a dramatic sigh, Natasha threw her phone down and looked at you in the mirror. Her eyebrows were raised, and she was giving you her usual ‘don’t give me that shit’ look. It nearly had you shaking in your very strappy black heels.

“Are you kidding me, y/n? I’ve seen you strut in enough fancy parties during undercover missions to know that you’ve got this.”

“Yeah,” Wanda scoffed as she took a sip of red wine from her glass, “all she’s nervous about is what Bucky will think.”

Rolling your eyes, you tried to hide how much that sentence affected you.

“C’mon, Wanda. You know Bucky and I are just friends.”

“Do friends undress each other with their eyes whenever they’re in the same room?”

Damn it. Damn Wanda and her stupid perceptiveness.

“You’re reading too much into it, Wanda.” She just laughed at you, acting like she knew so much better.

What you knew and wasn’t ready to admit to your two best friends, was that she was right on the money.

Bucky Barnes, the infamous Winter Soldier, your favorite person in the entire world, was now your boyfriend. He had been for a few weeks now. The two of you were insanely private people. Hell, it had been years before the two of you had finally learned everything about each other. Once you had gotten past the walls the other had so carefully crafted, well…

At that point you were in love.

But the others didn’t need to know that, not yet at least. The Avengers were a family, your family. They were really the only true family you’d ever had. But Bucky…Bucky was finally yours. And you were his. You didn’t think it was crazy to just want to enjoy that, just the two of you, without everyone else sharing their jokes and opinions just yet. They did it out of love, you both knew that, but you just wanted him all to yourself.

As you looked back at your reflection in the mirror, you took a minute to really consider what Bucky’s reaction might be. He had the best poker face in the room no matter who he was with, but you knew him well enough to know how he was feeling just based on his eyes. He’d always said how much he loved red on you, and he adored every and any excuse to touch your skin. Those steel blue eyes of his would absolutely burn once he saw you in this dress.

And fuck, that was something you really wanted to see.

“Well, if you aren’t going to wear that dress, you better pick something else,” Nat said, jerking you from your fantasies, “we need to be there in twenty minutes, and we all need to touch up our makeup.”

“Actually…I think I’ll wear it,” you said confidently, trying to hide your grin as you ran your hands down the silky fabric.

What you didn’t see was Natasha and Wanda sharing a secret smirk behind you, like they’d known what you’d do the whole time.

***

Six weeks ago, everything had changed for you and Bucky.

You’d known how you felt for a long time. Bucky Barnes, despite his past, was the kind of man anyone could fall in love with. He was sincere, kind, generous, witty…everything you’d ever wanted in a partner. He had been your best friend for even longer.

It had been a long time before you could even admit your feelings to yourself, let alone to him. After everything the two of you had been through, who had the time and mental capacity for romance? It just didn’t seem important. You just chalked up your feelings to being such close friends. All you wanted was to be near him, even if you just sat in silence doing different things. Just being in the same room as Bucky brought you a sort of peace you’d never had before. Whenever he touched you, even if it was just a brief hug or brushing your back to get past you, your skin erupted into goosebumps. But that was just because physical touch was still foreign to you, right?

And his smile. God, his wonderful smile…

Bucky didn’t smile much. He hid behind a mask of stoicism, a remnant from the trauma of his horrible history as the Winter Soldier. Showing any sort of emotion, especially happiness, was hard for him. But when he finally let himself smile? It was the most beautiful thing you’d ever see.

It took several sleepless nights wrestling with those confusing feelings to figure it out. You didn’t just see Bucky as your best friend. You had it bad. Not just “oh my god he’s so handsome” bad, like the “I would take a bullet for you I’m so in love” bad. That revelation? It left you euphoric. It also left you scared.

Because you were so sure Bucky didn’t feel the same. And that thought was like a knife to the heart every time it flashed through your mind.

So you kept it to yourself. You tried to keep things as normal as possible, but your heart kept fluttering whenever he walked into a room. Being so close to Bucky meant you confided in each other about pretty much everything, and he knew you well enough to know you were hiding something.

It all exploded on a Tuesday night in the compound.

Tuesdays were your movie nights. Bucky had a lot of pop culture to catch up on, so on this night every week he would come by your room to watch a movie. It was a weekly tradition that kind of started by accident. You were shocked he still hadn’t made time to watch Lord of the Rings, so you forced him onto your couch with popcorn and The Fellowship of the Ring. He loved it so much, and immediately asked if you guys could watch The Two Towers the next week. How could you say no to him?

Tonight, you were watching 13 Going on 30. It was your all-time favorite romcom, and you figured you could both use a break from all the action and fantasy movies you’d been cycling through. Something with a happy ending was worth indulging in.

“Does that Matt guy look like Banner to you? Or is it just me?” Bucky asked through a mouthful of popcorn.

“Heh, maybe a little,” you said, “Give or take a few years.” He laughed at that, and you forced yourself to laugh quietly. You wanted to blurt out your feelings every time you looked at Bucky, so you’d gotten quieter and quieter every time you spent time with him. It was an awful reaction, and you knew he noticed. But it was better than losing his friendship, right?

After that awful and painfully obvious forced laugh, Bucky let out a huge sigh and paused the movie. He set the bowl of popcorn down on the coffee table in front of the couch, then turned to face you. Exasperation and hurt glimmered in his eyes.

“Y/n, what the fuck is going on with you?”

“W-what do you mean?”

“Oh come on, don’t give me that,” he said sharply, “I know you better than anyone, and I know for a fact there’s something you’re not telling me. Is it me? Did I do something wrong?”

“What? No, god no!” You exclaimed.

“Well it must be something I did, because you’ve never been this quiet around me and it keeps getting worse. I hate it, and I want to know what I did so I can fix it.”

“Bucky, I’m serious, it’s nothing you did—”

“Then why? Why are you shutting me out?” He cut you off angrily, arms thrown wide. “You’re my best friend, I just don’t get why—”

“I don’t want you like a best friend, Bucky!” Your eyes went wide as the words flew from your lips. In the most comical way, you clapped your hand over your mouth as if you could stop the words that had already been said. Bucky’s eyes narrowed in confusion.

Oh fuck. He didn’t get it. Curse him and his old man ways.

“What does that even mean, Y/n? Are you saying you don’t want me around anymore?”

“Bucky, of course not. God, I would never want that. Never in a million years.”

“Then you better explain, because if you haven’t noticed, I’m over 100 years old. I need a little help here.”

“It means, uh…um,” you stuttered, wringing your hands together. “Is there any chance we can just forget I said that?”

“Nope, not a chance.”

“It means…it means that I care about you. As more than a friend.”

His entire face seemed to crinkle as he processed that. If you weren’t freaking out, you’d be obsessing over how damn cute it made him look. Then his eyes got wide as he began to make the connection. Your stomach nearly fell out of your ass as his eyes lifted again to meet yours.

“I…I think I know what you’re saying,” he nearly whispered, “I just need you to get real specific real fast, because I’m not about to say anything until I know exactly what you mean.”

“It means I’m in love with you, okay?” You burst out. Even through your mortification, there was a sudden sense of relief. A secret as big as that had definitely been weighing you down. Now that it was out there, that was one less thing you had to worry about.

His eyes grew even wider. How that was possible, you didn’t even know. That beautiful mouth of his began to turn up into a small smile as he gazed softly at you.

“You’re in love with me?” He asked, his smile getting wider with each passing second.

“What, you need it carved into stone or something?” You couldn’t help but sass him. Did you fucking stutter?

“No, it’s just…I never thought you’d feel that way about me.”

“Well, clearly I do. So you – wait, you mean you’ve thought about this before?”

“Of course I have,” he said as he shrugged, “I’ve been in love with you for two years now, how could I not think about it?”

You were instantly filled with warmth and pure bliss. In all your obsessing over your own feelings, you’d never allowed yourself to consider that he might feel the same about you. It just didn’t seem possible.

“I’m sorry,” you burst out, holding a hand up, “you’re telling me you’ve been into me for two years and didn’t say anything?”

“Why didn’t you?” He shot back, inching closer to you.

“Because you’re my best friend. I didn’t want to lose you because of stupid feelings I have.”

“But…I have those same ‘stupid feelings’ for you. So can we just cut the whole act and get on with it?” Bucky brought a hand up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing along your skin so gently.

“Uh…um…get on with what?”

“Well I’d kinda like to kiss you, if you’re cool with it.”

“Bucky Barnes did you just use current slang to ask if you could kiss me?” You didn’t move an inch as his face moved right in front of yours, breath intermingling as you gazed into each other’s eyes. God, was this really happening?

“Yeah, guess your lessons worked,” he murmured.

“Well you better kiss me, then.”

As soon as your lips met, it was like coming home.

***

That memory, your favorite memory, replayed in your head as the three of you stepped into the elevator. Nat and Wanda were happily chatting about who would be there, what kind of antics Tony would cook up tonight, if there would be music we could actually dance to. You know, normal party things.

All you could think about was how long you had to stay until you could sneak off with your boyfriend.

You were so happy Wanda and Natasha had convinced you to wear this dress. When you’d first put it on, the difference from your normal look was so jarring that it took you a few minutes to get used to it. But now that you had, now that you felt the silky fabric shifting against your skin as you moved, now that you saw how dangerously long your legs looked in these heels…

Damn, you felt sexy.

And that sexy feeling? It made you want Bucky’s hands all over you.

But this was a party. A party thrown by Tony Stark, one of the most perceptive and observant people you’d ever met. If you left too soon, if he thought you weren’t “having enough fun��, he’d be more than a little upset. So you had to stay, drink, mingle, maybe dance a little…and then, maybe later, you could go do what you actually wanted.

The elevator pinged, indicating you had reached the topmost floor of the compound. This floor was home to a huge communal space, often used for just hanging out with the team. But on nights like tonight, Tony went all out and turned the space into something that resembled…a club?

The three of you stepped out into the massive room, upbeat music already blasting from the speakers. Typical Tony – he never really outgrew his love for dancing and parties. The bass thrummed through your body, making you want to move to the music. The lights were dim, but you could still tell who was around. It looked like you were some of the last members of the team to arrive. There was a huge bar off to the side, and Natasha headed that way right away. You turned to ask Wanda if she wanted to follow Nat, but she was already making a beeline for Vision. Smiling, you just turned right back around to follow Natasha. A drink sounded pretty good right now.

As you made your way to the bar, you felt more than a few pairs of eyes on you as you walked. You sneakily looked around as you went, noticing men and women watching you with admiration, and dare you say it, longing. As someone whose job was to blend in with the background all the time, this was a different and slightly addictive feeling. You leaned on the bar next to Nat right as the bartender slid her drink over to her.

“Straight whiskey tonight? Damn, going hard.” You quipped.

“Hey now, you know I can handle my liquor. It’s you we need to watch out for, you lightweight.”

Laughing, you scanned the party guests, looking for the one person you wanted to see. Tony had had arm around Pepper’s waist, both laughing at something Rhodey had said. Bruce lingered around them, drink in hand and looking a little nervous, but still happy to be included. Wanda and Vision were sitting quietly on one of the couches, both looking absolutely smitten with each other. Scott Lang, one of the newest additions, was busting some moves, while Peter Parker laughed as he watched. Thor, who was visiting from Asgard, laughed boisterously as he watched various guests try to lift his hammer. You couldn’t help the smile growing on your face. You loved these people so much.

Then, you saw him.

Bucky was with Sam and Steve, as usual. But even as Sam and Steve were talking animatedly next to him, those gorgeous blue eyes of his were glued to you. There was a kind of intensity in them you hadn’t seen before. Your breath whooshed from you body as he grinned at you. Trying to maintain the suggestive image your dress gave you, you managed to send a flirtatious smile his way, then turned back around to face the bar. Leaning against the counter, you knew he’d get an eyeful of your bare back. God, this was fun.

The bartender finally made his way over to you, and you ordered two tequila shots.

Nat turned to you, one eyebrow arched in surprise as she asked, “And you say I’m going hard? You can’t just down two shots right away, babe.”

“I’m not doing two shots; you think I’m stupid?” The bartender slid the shots over to you along with two lime wedges. “One is clearly for you.”

Unable to hold back a laugh, Natasha put her arm around your shoulders and pulled you into her side as she said, “Why the fuck not, let’s do it.” The two of you went through the process: salt, shot, lime. You couldn’t help but wince as you downed the harsh liquor. Of all the shots in the world, tequila probably tasted the worst. The only reason you kept going for it was the warmth it traced down your body, and you felt your muscles begin to loosen up.

“Two more,” you called over to the bartender.

“Uh, no,” Natasha shot at you, grabbing her whiskey, and pushing off the bar, “I’m good with my top shelf shit, you keep going after that gasoline if you want but I’m out.”

“C’mon, Nat,” you called out, “what am I gonna do with two shots?”

“I’m sure you’ll find someone else, babe.” She said with a wave over her shoulder.

Sighing, you turned back to the ridiculously pretty bar (seriously, how much had Tony paid for this thing?). Who else would help you look cool and sexy at a bar for your secret boyfriend?

Okay, that was the cringiest thought you’d ever had. Gross.

As the bartender slid the tequila in front of you, you steeled yourself for the nastiness that was about to happen.

“Fuck, I didn’t think this through,” you mumbled.

“Yeah, you tend to do that,” a deep voice answered on your right. Instead of being the slightest bit surprised, you couldn’t help but smile. You’d know that voice anywhere.

“Something I can do for you, Barnes?” You looked up at him from under your lashes.

“Well, it looks like you’ve got an extra shot there. Thought I could bail you out.”

“Is that all?”

Bucky shifted so that your arms were just barely touching. His hand was right next to yours, and you reached out with your pinky to lightly brush his.

“Doll, you have the gall to show up in that dress and ask what I want as if you don’t already know?”

“Sorry Buck, I’m a little slow, must be the tequila. You should probably be a little clearer.”

Putting on quite the show of reaching for one of the shots, his mouth somehow ended up right next to your ear.

“I want you.”

It was lucky everyone was so distracted and couldn’t see how you shuddered at his words. Trying to maintain brain function, you managed to take the shot with him. You were now fully facing each other. He was wearing the cockiest smirk you’d ever seen, one that would put Tony Stark to shame. You couldn’t help but respond with that same energy despite the jitteriness his three little words had reduced you to.

“Well why don’t you—”

“Hello, my friends!” A booming voice sounded between you as Thor threw a huge arm over each of you. Bucky, with his stupid super soldier strength, didn’t really have a reaction to it. You, on the other hand, stumbled a little under the weight and force of it. “It’s so good to be back with you tiny humans.”

Was…was he slurring his words?

“Thor…are you drunk right now?”

He simply laughed in response. Well, that answered that.

“Of course I am, tiny person! It can’t be a party without good Asgardian wine.”

“Wait…you have literal god wine?” Bucky, who had a look of vague irritation on his face up to this point, now looked interested. Maybe even a little excited?

“Of course, metal appendage.”

“Dude, you can’t just call Bucky ‘metal appendage’—”

“He can if he lets me have some,” Bucky interrupted.

“We have a bargain!” Thor slapped Bucky on the back before scurrying back over to where he had come from, probably to get the wine he had promised.

“Bucky, you can’t even get drunk,” you hissed, “what exactly is the point of this?”

“Since everything happened, I haven’t found any alcohol strong enough to get me drunk. I figure god wine is worth a shot.”

“Bucky—”

“When I kiss you against a wall later, I wanna be a little tipsy,” he whispered in your ear, “that cool with you?”

Unable to keep yourself from smiling again, you nodded as Thor sauntered back over. Ever since that moment a few weeks ago, right before he kissed you for the first time, asking “is that cool with you?” had become your thing.

And the idea of Bucky kissing you against a wall? Yeah, that sounded pretty good.

***

As it turns out, Asgardian wine is just as potent as Thor had promised.

For the first time in over seventy years, Bucky Barnes was certifiably drunk. It made him feel like the Bucky from all those years ago, and it was the most incredible thing. Here he was, over 100 years old, partying, and all his favorite people were here.

Including his ridiculously hot girlfriend.

Even as they both flitted around the party, Bucky and y/n still found each other’s eyes, even from across the room. They would send winks, smiles, even funny faces. All he wanted to do was be right next to her, talk and dance with her all night…

But they had agreed. They wanted to keep their relationship a secret for now, keep the attention off of them for a bit while they got to know each other in this new way.

But god damn, that dress.

Y/n in red was…indescribable. It didn’t matter what she wore, she was always the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. But in red? In this dress?

She was breathtaking.

“Buck, you breathing?”

A hand waved in front of his face, snapping Bucky’s attention back to the people around him from Y/n’s back. He had been imagining putting his hands all over that back later and had gotten more than a little mesmerized. He managed to get his eyes to refocus, finding a drunk Sam smirking right next to him and an even drunker Steve dancing next to him. But what Steve was doing couldn’t really be called ‘dancing’ per say…more like an aggressive wiggle.

“Why wouldn’t I be breathing?” Of all the things he could’ve said to get Sam’s attention off of him, that wasn’t it.

“Uh, probably because the girl you’re in love with decided to show up and show off tonight? Pretty sure you’re drooling, man.”

Despite himself, Bucky slapped a hand across his mouth, only reducing Sam to wheezing laughter. Knowing he had been caught, he rolled his eyes and grimaced a little. Of all the people to catch him, he wished it hadn’t been Sam.

“I wasn’t…staring… at y/n, I just never see her dressed up is all.”

“I never said anything about the girl being y/n.”

“…fuck.”

“LANGUAGE,” Steve yelled out, pointing a finger at his two friends before returning to his shimmying.

Turning back to him, Sam added, “Just go be with her, Buck. You’re not fooling anyone, and neither is she.”

“We’re that obvious?”

“A few weeks ago you’d at least try to hide it. Now I’m surprised you’re not jumping each other’s bones right here right now.”

“Point taken,” Bucky said, lightly slapping Sam’s shoulder before power walking over to his girl.

***

“Nat, if you don’t stop asking about Bucky and I’s relationship, I’m going to kick you,” you called over the music before taking another swig from your glass. It was no Asgardian wine, but the human stuff wasn’t half bad in your opinion. It wasn’t like you could drink the god shit, anyway. If you had even one sip, you’d be swinging from the ceiling like Miley fucking Cyrus. You were pretty drunk as it was.

“Okay, fine,” she said with a shrug as she took a sip of her whiskey, still as calm and collected as ever. “You’re almost as drunk as he is, you’ll be talking soon enough.”

“Oh? Is that your spy master plan?”

Natasha was still looking as unbothered as ever, but as she looked across the room over your shoulder, her face split into a savage grin.

“It was, but it looks like I might not need it.”

“What do you me—”

Your words were cut off as a large, warm hand enclosed around yours. Whirling around, you were suddenly face to face with the man himself. Bucky was clearly having a good time. His mouth was relaxed into the cutest smile you’d ever seen him wear, and he moved without his normal stiffness and intensity. He threaded your fingers together, smiling down at you with so much love it was a wonder Nat hadn’t said anything yet.

Looking back in front of you, ready to explain yourself, you only found empty air. Guess she’d seen all she needed to, but honestly, you really didn’t care. All you’d wanted the whole night was to be exactly where you were right now; hand in hand with the man you loved.

“We’re just kidding ourselves, doll,” Bucky called next to your ear, “Sam said we’ve been pretty obvious.”

“Nat said the same,” you answered with a sheepish smile, “kind of hard to keep my face under control when you’ve got that leather jacket on.”

“You’re blaming me?” He asked with mock indignation. “You’re the one who looks,” he gestured wildly to your whole body, “like that!”

Trying ignore the heat spreading over your cheeks, you shot back, “Like what?”

“Like the most…” he screwed his face up in the most adorable way as he searched for words, “like the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” As the last few words tumbled out of his mouth, he gazed at you with such a softness you almost melted right into the floor.

“Wanna get out of here?” You asked, finally giving up the game. It was pointless, really. Now, all you wanted to do was for your boyfriend to keep his promise and kiss you against a wall.

Wrapping an arm around your waist, he answered, “Absolutely.” Without looking at a single soul, the two of you began walking as quickly as you could for the exit. You and Bucky were both leaning on each other a bit, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Stepping out into the light of the hallway, you blinked as your eyes adjusted after the dark room you’d spent the last few hours in. Bucky led you until you were right in front of the elevator, and he lazily pressed the button to go up. There was tension in the air between you, like a thread that was being pulled. Biting your lip, you stared at the doors in front of you. You knew if you so much as looked at the man next to you, you’d jump him right then and there.

The shining doors slid open, and the pair of you walked in, his strong arm still around your waist. His grip wasn’t loose in any sense of the word. Bucky kept you right next to him, even as your legs wanted to drift all over the place. You pressed the button for the residential floor.

As soon as those doors slid shut, that thread of tension snapped.

Bucky whirled you to face him, then walked you backward until you were pressed against the wall of the elevator.

“I promised I’d kiss you against the wall, didn’t I?”

He didn’t even wait for a response. His mouth was on yours in an instant, lips moving together like a dance. The kiss was slow and unhurried. You tried to bring him closer, linking your hands behind his neck and pressing yourself to him. Instead of responding in kind, he unwound your arms from around him and pinned them above your head.

Oh damn.

Okay.

No complaints here.

“You’ve been teasin’ me all night just by wearing that dress, sweetheart,” he murmured in between the kisses he trailed down your jaw, “I think it’s my turn.”

“Would it change your mind knowing I only wore this dress so you could take it off?”

The heat that bloomed in those blue eyes of his was unmistakable. As the doors opened on your floor, he swept you up into his arms and began to walk purposefully to his apartment. All the while, he kept that signature cocky smirk of his you’d come to adore.

“Bucky?” You asked once he’d walked into his unit.

“That sentence was the single most attractive thing you’ve ever said,” he murmured as he set you down. Even still, he kept you pressed against him. “But nah, I’m a patient guy. I think I’ll take my time.” He followed this by resuming his slow and sensual kisses, and you couldn’t help but melt into them.

“I love you,” you whispered against his lips.

“I’ll never get tired of hearing that, doll. I love you too.”

***

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes x you #dress #jenna writes #i love lanie #laniestaylorswiftwc

573 notes · View notes

tainted-wine · 5 years ago

Text

Caring For Your Hormonally-Charged Bird

Hawks x Reader (NSFW)

(I didn’t mean for this to turn into a monster with over 7k words, but I finally finished it. This is based off of my mutant headcanons and also takes some inspiration from user kazooli’s awesome thirst posts about Hawks. Happy Springtime, everyone!)

Edit: Now there’s a Part 2!

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

The songs of lovestruck birds rang across the streets. Freshly bloomed cherry blossoms rained petals down onto the pavement. Butterflies and bees hovered around the flourishing flowers. It was undoubtedly a beautiful day. Too bad you had to spend it in an office with an oncoming headache. A familiar voice spoke behind you.

“Wow, look at that. I don’t know what’s more gorgeous; the scenery outside or the lady staring at it.”

Hawks’s charm doesn’t affect you when he has pissed you off so many times in such a short span.

You’ve had the ‘privilege’ of working for the Hero Public Safety Commission for several years, from supporting public events to endless desk work. The pay was generous and life was overall more comfortable. All you had to do to stay on their good side was comply with every demand, ignore the condescending tones of the bigwigs, and turn a blind eye whenever you witnessed the occasional sketchy practice.

When they offered you a job as the personal handler of one of the top heroes of Japan, you almost fainted. You have always been a fan of Hawks. Fast, handsome, charismatic, he may not have the godly strength of All Might, yet he still felt just as flawless. You’ve been helping and guiding the winged young man since last summer and learned that he’s even more than what you imagined. He wasn’t just good-looking, he wasn’t just a sweet-talker…

He was also a fucking nightmare to work with.

You turned around to see said man ogling you a bit more than you were used to, his trademark crooked smile on his face, but you ignored that and went straight to business. “Your carelessness is trending again for the third time this week, Hawks.”

He drew a sharp breath in an exaggerated gasp. “Again? Oh, what could they possibly be on my ass for this time? Was I smacking on chicken wings too loudly in public? Did they catch the moment I almost flew into that crystal-clear window?”

You whipped out your phone, already prepared to show him a news page with a rather shocking photo. A man with an elegant and sleek appearance was beaten and bruised, his dazzling peacock tail fanned out behind him. The attacker was none other than Hawks, who was gripping the other man by the collar, his wings fully spread out with several sharpened feathers floating around his victim as an unnecessary precaution. It was a very aggressive display.

‘HAWKS LAYS SMACKDOWN ON PERVERTED PEACOCK’ was the headline.

“This is beyond excessive force. You could have just as easily restrained him with your quirk.” You scolded, fixing him with the steely authoritarian stare that you’ve been working on.

Hawks flinched, but you couldn’t tell if he was just playing with you or not. “Ma’am! I was simply defending the girl’s honor! She was very clearly uncomfortable and besides, wouldn’t flashing his tail like that be considered indecent exposure?” Yeah, that tone told you that he was clearly not intimidated.

“No, and even if it did, indecency and harassment wouldn’t excuse such a violent subduing. Furthermore,” you gestured at his threatening wing display in the photo. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were demonstrating similar behavior.”

He simply shrugged. “Just showing him who the bigger bird is around here.”

Your eye twitched. “For God’s sake, Hawks, you’re not an animal. Part of my job is ensuring that you maintain a friendly image that will keep the public at ease. This is not friendly. Shall I go through some of the comments for examples?” You scrolled down and cleared your throat in preparation. “Anyone else put off by how violent Hawks looks here? I didn’t know he had it in him to beat someone down like that. He’s usually all about being quick and efficient.” You scrolled down to the next one. “What’s the deal with Hawks? I was there and it was like watching a cockfight.” You clicked on a reply to that particular comment. “I know, right? I always wanted to meet Hawks in person, but after that, I was honestly too scared to-”

“Hold on, babe, I know you’re cherry-picking here,” Hawks, the little bastard, had taken out his own phone while listening to your reading. “Because those are nothing like my personal faves that I found on my Tweeter page.” You watched with silent frustration as his eyes scanned his phone until he found what he was looking for. “Ah, here we go. ‘Oh my GAWD, that look, those spread wings, he looks like such a beast!” He had raised the pitch of his voice for a mock feminine tone. “Leave it to Hawks to make all of us women feel safe. That pervert deserves to lose a few more teeth.’ Oh, and here’s the winner right here. ‘Just as I always expected, that hunk of a bird knows how to dominate. I can just imagine him towering over me, giving that same look while I take his big fat-”

“Hawks.”

He paused, but his shit-eating grin didn’t fade when he noticed your head being held in one of your hands. You hoped he didn’t notice that you were trying to hide the red that crept into your cheeks.

“…cock.”

You groaned loudly enough to most definitely be heard outside of the office. There truly were days when he would cut you some slack and be easy to deal with, but he has become downright unbearable for the past few weeks. His teasing has increased ten fold, yet he’s also been keeping his distance from you for whatever reason. It had taken you a while to notice, but he was normally more than happy to get in your face and ruin your professional act, but now, even when you’re the one trying to approach, he would casually step back to prevent the gap between you from closing.

And then it hit you.

Shit, it shouldn’t have taken you this long to connect the dots. You had even noticed how his wings appeared to be a shade brighter for the past few days, but dismissed it as a trick of the light. No, he had grown in his spring plumage.

“Uh, babe? You still there? Did the ‘C’ word break you?” Watching you stare into space was getting him a little concerned.

“You’re rutting,” was your simple reply.

Hawks’s face flashed into something more serious for a split second before giving a ‘tsk’ and looking away. “Took you long enough,” he scoffed. “Surprised the Commission hasn’t fired you for letting me go wild for so long. They must not have any replacements available right now.”

“Watch it,” you ordered. You pondered for a moment before asking, “Have you not been taking your hormonal medication? I know that you’ve been prescribed some for this time of year.”

He sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck, as if he was the one who should be feeling annoyed right now. Bitch, please. “Sometimes,” he muttered.

“Sometimes? They don’t work if you only take them sometimes, Hawks. I know you’re a busy hero, but you can put some effort into keeping track of your dosage.”

“Look,” it was the first time you’ve seen a genuine scowl on his face, the expression taking you back. “I just really hate that stuff, okay? They sap all of my energy and I put on a few extra pounds.”

You shook your head at his complaints. “Is that really worse than what you’re dealing with right now?”

“Yes. I’d rather be a horndog than a slug that doesn’t even have the will to move. It wouldn’t even be so bad if I could just sleep around every now and then, but that’s more trouble than it’s worth. I don’t wanna make your job that miserable.” He eyed you up and down for a minute, while you tried not to shy away from his piercing gaze. “Or I could find just one loyal partner that will help me scratch the itch?”

You stepped back, your heart racing at the unspoken request. “E-excuse me?” you stuttered.

Hawks raised his hands harmlessly. “Hey now, it’s just a suggestion. I’m pretty into you, you’re obviously into me, this could work out pretty well.”

An array of emotions were flowing through you, but you were more upset than anything else. “And what exactly makes you think I’ve been ‘into you’, as you’ve said?” Denial. You’re pretty sure that’s what this is. You know that you’ve been attracted to him since before you even met, but you weren’t going to let this overgrown brat have his way.

His sudden burst of laughter startled you. “You’re kidding, right? I still remember that look you had the first time we were in this room together, and it wasn’t the innocent ‘I wanna support my favorite hero’ look,” He was willingly approaching you for the first time in what felt like forever, every step sounding like thunder to your ears. “It was a ‘bend me over the desk and fuck me’ look.”

You were the one stepping back this time. You wanted to remind him not to use such foul language, to berate him for making such vulgar claims, but your voice was caught in your throat.

“We’d be doing each other a favor, right?” he continued, wings slowly expanding. “Keeping me in top shape is part of your job, isn’t it? I promise you that I’m gonna feel a lot better after this.”

You bumped into his desk, leaning back slightly as he finally closed the distance. His wings draped around each side of you, filling your peripheral vision with pure red. His face was only inches away from yours as he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

“You’ve been smelling so damn good lately. Been afraid that I just might pounce you if I get too close.”

A thickly gloved hand reached out and cupped your face with such a surprising amount of tenderness, you couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel bare. You were so entranced by his lustful gaze that you couldn’t find it in you to resist as he leaned in, feeling his hot breath as his lips drew closer to yours.

The door busted open accompanied by a shout. “Hawks sir! Your help has been requested at-OH!”

A genuine growl rumbles through Hawks’s throat and damn, that makes you tremble. By the time he turns toward the stumbling sidekick, he was already back to his cool and friendly self.

“Don’t stop on my account, buddy,” he beamed the younger man with an unwavering smile. “What’s the request?”

———

The next day, you tried very hard to pretend that little office incident never happened. You were not going to let something so unprofessional ever happen again. That was a promise.

Hawks, on the other hand, was being a persistent bastard. You were determined to win this battle. If he wanted the urges to go away so badly, then he can take his damn medication like he always has, not use your lack of authority and experience as an excuse to rebel. The only reason you haven’t informed the Commission about this is because you know that your head will be on the chopping block as well as Hawks’s. You will most definitely be in some shit once they realize that you can’t keep their most prized possession in check.

And to be fair, as the week went on, you really were wondering if you were cut out for this job. With his wings getting more vibrant, his advances becoming more frequent, and his feral rivalry against other men growing more severe, Hawks has officially become too unruly for you to handle, and you’re the goddamned handler. You couldn’t lose this job! What if they terminated you completely and you couldn’t get another position from the Commission?

You paced back and forth in the empty office. Hawks was late this morning, leaving you alone with your endless worries. He may act lazy, but he was never actually late for his meet ups. Looks like you’ll have to call him and pray that nothing serious has happened.

You jumped when your phone vibrated before you even reached into your pocket. Ah, looks like Hawks reached out before you did. You held your phone up, prepared to answer, and froze.

It wasn’t Hawks. It was the deputy, the very man that was kind enough to give you this job. He hasn’t called you since your first few days here to help get you started. With your progress, you doubt he was calling to give you a raise.

Well, as much as you wanted to throw the phone out of the window and find an appropriate place to bury yourself, you didn’t make it this far by cowering from these guys. Taking a deep breath, you picked up and greeted the man on the other side with a steady voice. “Good morning, Deputy.”

He addressed you with the same bored and unimpressed tone that you hear from every member in this cursed organization. Jeez, if you keep working here long enough, are you going to eventually sound as soulless as them? “I assume you are aware of Hawks’s current condition?” he asked.

Dammit. “My apologies, sir. I know that I have been neglectful of Hawks’s health and his behavior during this time. I have been doing my best t-”

“That isn’t the issue I am talking about, but thank you for confirming that you have indeed failed in keeping Hawks’s unsavory habits under control.” You flinched. Way to rat yourself out. “Hawks had managed to find and subdue the troublesome villain Libido.”

“Ah, of course. I have been informed of that, sir.” Libido was a cunning little criminal that has been causing trouble all over the city of Fukuoka. His ‘Love Breath’ quirk gave him the ability to exhale fumes with powerful aphrodisiacal qualities. The guy even made his own gas bombs, releasing them among unsuspecting crowds in the public. He was less of a villain and more of just a chaos-loving hoodlum that was too slippery for his own good.

The deputy carried on. “One of the sidekicks has told us that Hawks was exposed to his quirk.”

Oh. Oh dear. That’s some strong stuff to be subjected to.

“We have ordered Hawks to go home immediately and wait patiently instead of heading to a hospital. We will be sending treatment his way.”

Some of the tension left your body. “That’s good to know, sir. May I ask what kind of treatment he will be taking? I know I haven’t convinced you yet, but I want to do anything I can for his well being.” You hesitantly asked. Please, oh please let me make up for everything that has been happening.

You heard a faint chuckle from the other end. “That’s very good to know, because the treatment is you.”

You’re glad he couldn’t see the confusion on your face. “I’m sorry, sir. Are you saying I’ll be the one to doctor him? I’ll need to know what medicine he needs and how much rest he’ll be expected to-”

“Do you know how people affected by aphrodisiac quirks are normally treated?” he interrupted you for the second time. He didn’t even give you a chance to answer before continuing. “Given your questions, I’m assuming that you don’t. We can indeed offer drugs to weaken the effects, but Hawks will still be in great distress and will take a long time to recover, especially since he’s neglected to take his hormone medication with the help of an incompetent handler.” Ugh, you get it already. You screwed up. “But the quickest and most efficient remedy is, without a doubt, sexual contact and allowing the quirk to run its course. That is what we expect you to provide for him.”

What.

You took a full minute to collect your thoughts and ensure that you heard everything correctly. The deputy waited patiently. How kind of him. Once you gathered yourself, you conjured the most constructive response you could think of.

“Huh?”

An overly loud sigh sounded in your ear. Hey, it’s his fault for dropping this bomb of a request on you. “We can’t have the number two hero out of action for too long. The alternative is to strap him to a bed and sedate him for an uncertain amount of time. His rut has enhanced the quirk’s effects; this may even strengthen his arousal for the rest of the season.”

Your face paled. That sounds ten times worse than the way Hawks was already acting. “So, if I were to…be with him,” you blushed at the very thought. “That would provide the best relief?”

“That is the gist of it. You told me you would do anything for Hawks’s well being. Can I hold you to that?”

Your pounding heart was almost drowning out his voice. You didn’t mean to corner yourself like this. “O-of course. I’ll see what I can, um, do.” This discussion was getting uncomfortable.

“I didn’t expect you to be so hesitant. You’re a loyal fan of his, aren’t you? You should be thrilled. Few fangirls get this opportunity.” He laughed at his own joke. You sure as hell weren’t laughing with him.

“Yeah, of course, sir,” you grumbled. “I suppose I shouldn’t leave Hawks alone for too long. I’ll be on my way soon.”

“Excellent,” he said. “You’ll need to take some precautions, of course. Here’s what you need to keep in mind…”

———

You walked out of the local pharmacy, cradling the pills tightly to your chest like some sort of security blanket. The deputy’s advice echoed in your head.

“It’s best that you take contraceptives. Hawks’s mind will be clouded with feral cravings, such as the urge to breed. He is not going to accept condoms.”

You tossed the pills onto the passenger seat in your car.

“Again, Hawks is suffering from both the magnified effects of Libido’s quirk and his annual rut. It’s possible that he will not be of sound mind. If things get out of hand, you have the right to protect yourself.” the deputy paused for a moment. “Just try not to leave any marks on him, if you can. Hawks must look presentable at all times.”

Well, you did have a stun gun that you thankfully never had to use, and hopefully it will stay that way.

The deputy’s help made you way more anxious than before. Were you about to have sex with a horny man, or tame a dangerous beast? You still didn’t know what to make of this predicament.

You take your phone and select Hawks’s number. It’s probably best not to surprise him at his door. Hopefully he wasn’t too riled up and ignores your call.

The phone rings once, then twice, then you hear…whimpers? Shit, was it getting that bad?

“Hawks? Are you there?” you asked calmly.

“Babe.” Goodness, his voice was rough. He sounds like he just ran across the country. “Oh thank God. Talk dirty to me, baby.”

“Wha—no.” This was a mistake. You really weren’t prepared for such levels of horniness. He just blurted that out like it was nothing! “Look, um, I heard your urges are becoming too much to handle. I’m heading on over there to…help you.”

For a while you just heard what sounded like breathless laughs and weeping. Hearing him in such a fragile state had you genuinely concerned. “Y’serious? We’re-ah-we’re gonna fuck?” He was panting heavily between words.

Heat was gathering in your face. “Yes, that’s the plan.”

“Oh, fuck yeah. Get over here-fuck-so I can stuff you, babe. You’re gonna be mine. Oh I can’t wait to fucking have you.” This sounded like a goddamned porno and you couldn’t handle it. There was a strange sound in the background as he rambled, something like wet smacks. You kept hearing it in sync with his grunts and…

Oh.

“Just hang in there, alright?” You said quickly, wanting to end this call right now. “I’m coming.”

“Well, I’m not. My hand’s really not doin’ it for me. Gotta be inside you, babe. Gotta cum in that tight-“

You hung up.

You banged your head against the steering wheel harder than intended, but at least the pain got your mind off of…whatever all of that was. You can’t believe you just heard your favorite hero breathlessly talking about how he wants to bang you while jerking off. You didn’t know it was possible to feel this mortified, but that wasn’t the worst part.

The worst part was the tingle between your legs.

Hawks, one of the top heroes of Japan, the heartthrob of the generation, was lusting for you. It had you both excited and on edge. You remember the deputy’s comment.

“You’re a loyal fan of his, aren’t you? You should be thrilled. Few fangirls get this opportunity.”

You probably would indeed be thrilled if the circumstances were less dire. Your fantasies normally involved something simpler and more romantic, not saving him from his own sex-hazed mind. You still weren’t sure what you were walking into, and that was admittedly a different kind of excitement.

There was no time to waste with the state Hawks was in. Calming your nerves, you started your car and began taking the route to his place.

———

Here you are, at the doorstep of Hawks’s house. His place was surprisingly humble for a top hero, it made this encounter just a little less nerve-wracking. Pressing a finger to the buzzer, you waited anxiously, rocking back and forth on your heels. You really hope he’ll be dressed decently when he answers the door.

Your heart skips once you hear a click and the doorknob twists. It feels like it takes an eternity for the door to open and reveal…nobody.

Instead, you were greeted by a small flock of feathers suspended in the air. They slowly floated a distance away from you before stopping, as if they were waiting for something. You cautiously stepped inside, some of the feathers closing the door behind you. You don’t know what type of welcome you were expecting, but it wasn’t this. The feathers guided you, drifting up a flight of stairs and into a room with its door hanging open. You can hear harsh breathing inside, reigniting your fear. “Hawks?” You hesistantly called out without getting any closer.

A cracking voice cried out your name. “Help me. It fucking hurts. I’m so hot. Make it stop.” He sounded like he was crying. The desperate pleas prompted you to mask your fears for the umpteenth time and approach the room, taking in the sight of the man that has been waiting for you.

Hawks was naked, not to your surprise, but still to your absolute horror. He sat on his bed, skin glistening with sweat and a deep blush spreading throughout his upper body, making him look more feverish than aroused. His chest heaved with the irregular breaths that left his hanging mouth. His hair was even more unruly as usual, some of his locks sticking to his damp face. Your eyes locked onto his, pupils dilated and looking right through you.

He looked awful.

You came closer, trying your best not to stare at the very swollen and throbbing member between his legs. “I’m sorry,” you said softly, stopping right in front of him. “I didn’t think it would get this bad. I-I want to help. Just tell me what to do.”

He was on his feet the moment you finished, nude body just inches away from yours, but you kept your feet planted where they were. As his large wings slowly opened and enclosed around you, you noticed how brilliantly hued his feathers have become, practically glowing a vivid scarlet. It was captivating.

Two clammy hands came up to hold your face, the same hands he was furiously pleasuring himself with just a moment ago holy shit, and his mouth was on yours before you could even react. You gasped in shock of it all, allowing his tongue to slip past your lips. It was less of a kiss and more of just him hungrily ravaging every inch of your mouth, your own tongue wrestling with his to keep him away from the back of your throat. One of his arms lowered to wrap around your waist and pull you flush against his bare form, making you yelp when you felt his erection pressing against you. Hawks’s dick was on you.

You were too overwhelmed by his restless mouth and his DICK to notice the stray feathers hovering over you. A tug and a loud rip made you jolt. Hawks held you still, the sound of expensive fabric tearing making you flinch as your skin was slowly being exposed. The feathers were shredding your clothes.

You pulled away from his suffocating mouth just enough to take a breath and attempt to speak. “Hawks! Wha—” only for him to smother you once again.

“Don’t move,” he uttered between kisses. “Don’t want to cut you.”

With a few more slashes, your cherished suit was now scattered on the carpet in tatters, revealing your body to him, but the feathers weren’t done. The floating blades carefully slid under your panties and bra. You stood completely still, Hawks kissing you with less aggression in an attempt to soothe you as the feathers sliced through the last of your clothes. You were now just as bare as him. He simply held you tightly, face rubbing against yours with the occasional lick against your heated skin. Your eyes were closed shut, unable to process his frantic tongue, his surrounding body that felt like fire, his cock that was now pressed to your stomach you were going to drop dead holy shit.

“Smell so good. Tastes so good.” he groaned, still sounding short of breath. His mouth went down to your neck, sucking at it hungrily and giving the occasional nip, forcing a faint moan out of you. He continued his descent and reached your breasts, molding them roughly and attacking your nipples with hard sucks. Despite the rough treatment, a tight heat was building up in your abdomen, your hands cradling his head as he explored you. He ventured lower, now on his knees with his face right at your womanly mound.

Your heart was pounding when he leaned in, his nose lightly touching you as he drew in a long breath and giving a pleased sighed. His nose pressed in further and poked at your glistening pussy, your thighs clenching in surprise while he happily took in your scent. Fuck, he was really just kneeling between your legs and smelling you. You were ready to protest and tell him that this was getting too embarrassing before something wet and hot slid against your folds, replacing your planned words with a yelp.

Hawks apparently approved of your taste, strong hands grasping the back of your thighs as he brought you in closer to fully devour you. Your cries were impossible to hold in while he lapped at you, mind becoming too clouded with pleasure to stay modest. He moaned loudly into you, the erotic sound vibrating against you, tongue fondling every inch of your folds before his lips closed around them, sucking greedily and almost making your knees collapse. You were getting close, grasping onto his head in a desperate attempt to stay balanced, his mouth now assaulting your sensitive bud. Your blissful whimpers joined the filthy sounds of his feasting when your orgasm washed over you like throbbing magma. Once your legs lost the last of their strength, Hawks set you down gently on the floor, still licking your sensitive lips.

“Ah, Hawks…too much…” You whined weakly.

He got the message and pulled away to immediately climb over you, giving you a clear view of his face glistening with your juices. Bright wings were fully spread out once more; it feels like you were about to be taken by an angel, the most savage angel you could ever imagine.

He came down for a sloppy kiss, spreading your own womanly nectar all over your lips. “Hope you’re nice and ready now. Ready to take everything I’ve got.” He mumbled against your mouth. You couldn’t help but smile and feel grateful that even in such a frenzied state, he was still kind enough not to jump you the moment you were within sight.

You brought a hand up to caress the side of his face, watching his eyes flutter shut as he leaned into your touch like the needy animal that he was at the moment. His body was still unnaturally hot and he was still breathing harshly. It’s time to finally give this poor man some relief.

“Go ahead, Hawks. I’m all yours.” You were indeed ready for everything he has.

Hawks said no more, gripping himself and aiming right for your opening. The moment his head was pushing past your lips, he thrust forward, filling you completely and knocking the wind out of you.

You honestly thought he came right then and there with the totally profane howl that left him. “Fuck…!” he choked, looking on the verge of tears. Despite the seemingly paralyzing pleasure, he wasted no time in moving, his pace quickening at an alarming rate. Your pussy was still sensitive from his wonderful licking, his dick currently sending painfully powerful shocks that you just weren’t ready for, and yet heat began to pool within your core for a second time. Your arms were wrapped around his sweaty form, nails biting into his skin and forcing rugged grunts out of his throat.

The wet slaps of your bodies rang throughout the room, your limbs quivering as he pumped into you faster, his heavy balls slapping against your ass, full and prepared to pour every drop of its contents into your womb. Hawks had buried his head into the crook of your neck, letting you feel every breathless moan right against your ear.

All you could do was hold on and take the increasingly rough pounding. His rhythm was sloppy from the start, but the thrusts were becoming even more irregular as a sign that he was already reaching his peak. Not surprising, given the state that he’s been in all day. One well-aimed thrust hits your sweet spot, making you moan loudly against him.

The sound eggs him on, driving his hips at a bruising pace and fuck it feels so good it hurts. Your eyes shut tightly as another orgasm breaks free, your feminine walls clamping around Hawks, squeezing his own climax out of him. You gasped at the powerful throbs of his cock as it shot out stream after stream of cum inside you. The purely animalistic growl that rumbled through him had you shaking in the best way while you watched his wings twitch and flap, hitting you with a light gust.

After an impressive amount of spurts, Hawks collapsed on top of you. He was heavy, but having his weight on you like this was pretty nice. You rubbed soothing circles around his back, listening to the rather inhuman cooing sounds he made in response.

You just had sex with Hawks, your favorite hero and the very man you were paid to look after. Oh man, how badly have you screwed up your relationship? Not that you two had much of a bond in the first place, but now things will most certainly get even more awkward.

A twitch inside you interrupted your thoughts. What the hell? Hawks’s breathing was accelerating again as he suddenly lifted his weight off of you, and that’s when you realized even though he came, he was still hard.

With newfound energy, he pushed your thighs towards your chest and rammed into you before you could even register what was happening. His new angle had you seeing stars with each thrust, hitting you even deeper than before. The sensation was dizzying, your overstimulated body beginning to throb all over. Hawks had the most obscene expression on his face, glazed eyes watching your tits bounce while his mouth hung open, drool trailing down his chin. You didn’t know such a look existed outside of adult videos, and having it aimed at you was enhancing your stinging pleasure.

Looking down granted you the view of his drenched dick pushing into you, each slam of his hips rocking you into the carpet, which honestly burned like ouch. Thankfully Hawks was reaching his tipping point once again, his hips moving at a bruising pace before one final smack. You were spoiled with another wonderful image of his head thrown back as a choked moan escaped him, another round of cum shooting into you.

He finally slid out of you as he sat back to catch his breath, wings limply dropping to his sides. Finally. You didn’t know how much more your womanhood could take. The strain of moving your legs made you wince. Did he have to pin you so roughly?

Hawks watched silently as you pushed yourself up. You felt behind your back and…dammit, you really did bruise back there. Maybe you should go find a mirror; hopefully it didn’t look too bad. You noticed that Mr. Horny Wings continued to just stare, pupils still enlarged and his dick was still hard what the fuck. He suddenly shifted onto all fours and crawled behind you. The light brush of fingers over your blemished skin made you shiver. They weren’t big enough to be that painful, but you still hissed when he applied a little too much pressure, making him pull away.

“Sorry.” His voice was still raspy as he apologized.

You shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. Could’ve been wor—AH!”

Hawks shoved you forward, manhandling you until you were properly on your hands and knees. Fuck, your entire lower body was starting to ache, and here he was, ready to go another round. The head of his still-swollen dick was already pressing at your entrance. Grasping your hips, he pushed past your puffy lips and re-entered your heat. You bit your bottom lip and took the limitless strength in his hips, his balls sometimes smacking right into your clit and bringing you closer to your next climax.

His pace slowed down briefly in order to lower himself and suck at your bruises. “Nnngh, fuck, Hawks!” The combined pain and pleasure had your insides burning. He moaned and panted into your back, kissing up to your neck and sucking there as well. A pair of strong arms wrapped around your torso, pressing your body against his in an intimate embrace as he plunged into you more deeply.

It was impossible to not moan after each stroke. His face rested on your shoulder, and you reached behind to bury a hand in his hair. Shit, this was all getting so intimate. He was holding you and was so close, you could feel the ripple of his muscles as he caressed every inch of your inner walls. Your third burst of pleasure had you quivering against him as he continued to chase his own orgasm, stars appearing in your vision with each thrust. Hawks sank his teeth into your neck before bottoming out and releasing more cum inside you.

Both of you were lost in your sensual spasms before you collapsed. Hawks didn’t lay on you completely this time, his sweat-soaked form crouched over you, close enough to still be inside of you…

And rock hard.

You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.

You stayed as you were, your face down and your ass up, as you felt him humping away at you again. You could barely whimper as your tender pussy took another pounding. Christ, why wasn’t he getting tired? If the quirk was getting any closer to wearing off, it sure as hell didn’t feel like it.

It wasn’t long before he came again, grunting with each hard buck as he filled you with his apparently endless supply of cum. Was he done? Please be done. You turned your head just enough to check the state of his erection.

Nope.

Hawks had enough mercy to carry you to his much more comfortable bed before continuing. He took you again.

And again

And again.

You were positively ruined, no more strength left in your body as he repeatedly claimed you with fervor. Whenever it appeared you were getting uncomfortable in a certain position, he would simply switch things up before carrying on. Despite how utterly exhausted and raw you felt, your orgasms kept coming, every surge of pleasure clouding your mind more and more.

You had lost track of time. Was this his fifteenth go? seventeenth? Keeping count was becoming a drag. It didn’t help that Hawks was in too much of a trance to even speak, giving you nothing but moans and growls. At least he didn’t sound on the verge of tears anymore, so maybe he was making progress.

Another orgasm was approaching; could your tired body even handle it? You were laying on the edge of the bed as Hawks stood and fucked you. Even through all of the overwhelming passion, you never got tired of staring at his wings, the dazzling red never failing to mesmerize you. They fluttered rapidly as the tension in your core spilled over, your mouth opening in a silent scream and a blackness closing in on you with every blink.

Your body was finished.

———

Everything hurts.

That’s the first thing you noticed when you woke up and made the mistake of stretching. Your arms and legs ached, a sharp pain shot through your back whenever you shifted, and between your legs…well, the throb down there didn’t at all feel pleasurable anymore.

Still, you fought the pain to sit up and examine yourself. Your nether regions were surprisingly clean, almost as if someone had already taken care of it. With all of the cum Hawks pumped into you, it should frankly be an awful mess down there.

Speaking of, where was the guy?

“Hey.”

Oh, there he was leaning in the door frame. He had obviously tidied up, no longer a flushed and sweaty wreck, and was now sporting a pair of loose pants and a tee. You had never seen him looking so casual. It was probably a privilege very few had, and knowing that ignited something in your chest.

He glanced around before looking back at you. “You alright?”

Realizing you were just gawking at him and haven’t said anything yet, you coughed to ensure your voice was still clear and functioning. “I’m fine.”

He snickered. It was a sound you were used to whenever he knew he had the upper-hand in some way, but something about it felt softer this time. “I just fucked you into high heaven for a whole day.” He could’ve acknowledged it in a less shameless manner, dammit. “I just wanna know if you’re alright. You look pretty stiff.”

A jolt shot through your lower back in perfect timing with his statement, making you flinch. “Yeah, I’m—I’m pretty sore. Very sore,” you admitted.

“Ah,” He stood up straight. “I’ll go get some, uh, pain relief. Be right back.” And with that, he was out of your sight.

You waited patiently for his return, actually observing his bedroom for the first time. It was surprisingly bare, the room of someone who didn’t spend much time at home. There was a window that you didn’t notice and holy shit he was right. It was nighttime; you spent the entire day in Hawks’s bedroom. The fangirl in you was squealing in delight. You told her to shut the hell up.

The man returned with a glass of water in one hand, a pill in the other, and a set of clothes draped across his arm. “Here,” he handed the water and medicine over before sitting beside you on the bed. You gulped down the capsule, sputtering a bit as the cold water flowed down your dry throat. “I’ve got some clothes that might fit you well enough. Sorry about your suit. I’ll give you some money for a new one.”

He’s never sounded so wooden before and you couldn’t stand it. You let out your best good-hearted laugh as you took the offered clothes. “Stop that, Hawks. You sound as bland as your bosses right now,” you joked.

He laughed along with you. “Heh, sorry babe. Just worried that I came on a little too strong at the beginning there.”

You simply hummed in response. His clothes were so warm and smelled like him. Despite being surrounded by his strong scent for hours, you still welcomed it.

“So…looks like you’re feeling better.” You took in his appearance again now that he was closer. There was still a tinge of red in his face, but he seemed overall back to his usual relaxed self.

“Oh yeah, much better. The feeling’s still there, honestly,” he saw your eyes widen and instantly blurted out, “Just barely! I can ignore it and think clearly just fine now.” A boyish smile spread across his face. “Looks like I’ve got a hero. You really saved me back there.”

A ridiculous snort left you after hearing such praise. “Is that all it takes to be the great Hawks’s hero? I’m flattered.”

“Hey, I’m serious,” He looked you square in the face, and you couldn’t look away from his sincere expression. “It’s never been that bad before. Not gonna lie, I’m embarrassed you saw me like that. That was worse than all of my teenage ruts combined. Damn villain’s quirk really messed me up, felt like I was going fucking rabid. I don’t know what state I’d be in if it weren’t for you.”

Your mouth opened and closed, unsure of how to respond to his gratitude. “You’re welcome,” was all you could say. “You don’t need to feel bad about it. It’s…” You looked down at your feet. “It’s not like I didn’t like it. It was very draining, honestly lost track of time at a certain point, but it, uh, it was an experience.”

Hawks nodded in response. “Sure was. Never thought I’d rail a girl so hard and for so long that she’d pass out. I��m impressed with myself.”

“Hawks.”

He hung his head in mock shame. “My apologies, ma’am! I completely forgot that such vulgar language isn’t tolerated around you.” And there’s the infuriating grin that you were beginning to miss.

Both of you were laughing, slowly melting away the tension and stress that filled the room since morning. This…this was nice.

“So, you probably still don’t feel all that great, sooo…” Hawks rubbed at the back of his neck. “You wanna stay for dinner? Already ordered a chicken pizza with some wings.”

“Oh?” You raised your eyebrows. “Taking me to dinner after the sex?”

“Hey now, you know me. ‘The hero who’s too fast for his own good.’ Sometimes I miss a step or two.” He winked before getting up to leave. “You just lay there and rest, and go pee already. Don’t need an infection on top of everything else you’re going through. I already cleaned up the horrifying scene between your legs.”

You shuddered at the crude comment before falling backwards onto the poor mattress that had endured so much today.

Tomorrow, it will be back to professionalism. Back to pretending that you’re Hawks’s superior. Back to sucking up to the Commission. You’re going to cherish every minute of tonight, enjoying the company of Keigo Takami, not Hawks.

A shout echoed from downstairs. “The bathroom’s still empty, babe! Get your ass in there and pee!”

#bnha #hawks #smut #hawks x reader #takami keigo #i applaud you if you read the whole thing #this fic had a mind of its own

9K notes · View notes

cocochannel00 · 4 years ago

Text

Things that Husband!Harry would definitely do (a thread)

(If you don’t think that Tiny Desk Harry doesn’t give off mad husband!harry vibes - he looks so fluffy- then we can’t be friends)

- He’d sneak into your room the night before the wedding because he missed you even though he knows its bad luck and when you’re mad at him for it he would just smile and place a kiss on your forehead and say “I don’t need any luck, I just need you”

- At your wedding reception he would walk around the room introducing you to everyone as “my wife” as if they didn’t already know who you were

- During your wedding dinner he’d spend the whole night whispering dirty jokes in your ear trying to make you laugh because he knew that even though it was your wedding day you were still spooked by all of the attention

- On your first year anniversary Harry wanted to surprise you by making you breakfast in bed so he started making pancakes as you slept. You woke up to the sound of your fire alarm going off and Harry blowing the smoke off a pan with a pillow. He’d give you a sheepish smile before mumbling a “maybe we get takeout this year?”

- During the holidays he’d hang mistletoe all around your house and force you to kiss him at every one. “Look love it’s mistletoe, you know what that means” he’d state with a grin. “Harry I just kissed you literally 2 minutes ago in the other room” you’d grumble “Doesn’t matter love, it’s mistletoe and those are the rules. Now come here and kiss your husband”

- Anytime the two of you would get into any sort of major fight where you would say “I hate you” he would shoot back “Well I love you so I guess you’re stuck with me” before going to sulk on the couch

- Whenever you went to his shows or stayed with him on tour he would force you to sit back stage and watch him from the wings so he could watch your reaction to his corny jokes and steal a kiss from you in between sets and on his bathroom breaks

- You agreed to be the designated drive for your group for a night out so Harry gets drunk and becomes extra clingy. He spends the entire night stuck to your side, shoving his face in your neck whispering “I’m going to marry you one day” to which you’d remind him quietly that you were already married. He’d then nod thoughtfully and mumbled “Well then I’m going to marry you again just in case”

- One night you would be tossing and turning in bed unable to sleep and you would accidentally wake up Harry. You’d apologies because you knew he had to wake up early the next day, but he would just shush you with a quick peck before repositioning you so that you could lay your head on his chest. He’d then softly start humming the tune to one of the new songs he was working on until you’d fall asleep

- Harry would convince you that he was capable of building the Ikea coat rack the two of you had bought for your new home on his own so you’d go into the room next door to take a nap. When you woke up and hour later you found him laying on the floor facetiming Mitch as he tried to figure out why the last piece wasn’t fitting properly only for you to look at it and realize he had built half of it backwards

- Harry would come home late from one his movie shoots and would mumble a quick hello as he walked in through the door. You’d be sitting on the couch watching and episode of Dateline and he would throw himself next to you and lay his head on your lap. You’d start running your hands through his hair as you finished watching the last couple of minutes of the episode before asking Harry how his day was only to realize he had passed out on your lap and was now quietly snoring, a small trail of drool slowly coming out of his mouth

- The next season of your favorite show Handmaid’s Tale had come out so you and Harry started watching it. Every five minutes Harry would ask you a question about the show until mid way through you looked at him and bursted out “Harry if you ask me one more question about the show I’m sending you to our room”. Harry would pout at you and sink into the couch, grumbling about how it wasn’t his fault he couldn’t remember what happened last season before he shoved some popcorn into his mouth

- You’d need to go shopping at Target one day to get some decorations for your niece's birthday party and Harry would decide to come along. “This is our list Harry, we’re not buying anything that’s not on the list” you’d say in the car before getting out, but it would be hopeless because every other aisle Harry would pick something up and say “babe we need to get this” and you would stare at him and say “is it on the list?” and he would grumble a no before sulking back down the aisle to put it back

- On road trips when he let you pick the music he would grumble when you would change the song every 30 seconds. “Love just choose a song, it’s not that difficult, gave you the bloody playlist” he’d state as you would continue to skip through the songs mumbling “I’m tired of that song though, just wanted to hear the chorus”. “Is that what you do with my songs too, just skip all the good parts to get to the bloody chorus?” he’d ask mockingly as you gave him a sheepish smile and mumbled a “sometimes” before finally picking a song

- It would be nearly 4 am and you would still be awake reading your book in bed as Harry slept soundly next to you. You could feel the tears running down your face as the main character just had their heartbroken and a soft sniffle left your nose which caused Harry to startle awake. “Babe what time is it?” he’d mumble as you continue reading, paying him no mind. He’d turn on his phone and groan as he saw the 4 flash at him before turning to see the tears on your face. “Oh no love did she get her heartbroken again? Sure they’ll get back together by the end” he’d state, knowing this was your third rom-com book of the month. You’d mumble a yes as Harry gently dog eared the page before you could protest. He turned off your lamp before tucking you into his side, pulling the covers up to your chin, letting you crying into his chest over your fictional characters

- You and Harry going to your 15th high school reunion together and he gets jealous when he sees you talking to your ex-boyfriend from when you were 16. He’d come up behind you and wrap an arm around your waist while placing a kiss to the side of your temple before reaching out his free hand to introduce himself. “Hello I’m Harry. The Husband” he’d say as he shook your ex’s hand just a little tighter then necessary

- Harry would be overly invested in your work place gossip so when the two of you would have dinner together he would constantly ask questions about what happened with your coworkers that day. “So did Stacy and Justin get caught yet or does Janet still have no idea? Did Kathleen ever get that promotion? If I ever see Garrett I’m going to punch him”

- He’d force you to wake up early with him so the two of you could workout together in your home gym, but you’d just sit on the floor against the mirror in your workout clothes staring at him. After several attempts at trying to get you to stretch with him he’d give up and say “If you’re not gonna workout at least give me some motivation babe” so he’d do his abs workout in front of you and every time he came up from a sit-up you’d give him a kiss

- Harry would come down with a cold and he would turn into a 5 year old boy and try to milk it for everything it’s worth. “Think the doctor mentioned that cuddles would really help with my headache, love.” “Harry I don’t think that’s what the doctor said” you’d reply as you placed a cold wash cloth on his forehead. “Don’t think I would have forgotten such an important order from her. Now, come here I want to cuddle my wife”

- He’d come home from the studio fidgeting with his beat-up blue iPod in his hand as you were finishing up a quick dinner for the two of you. He would gently place the iPod on the counter next to you as he poured himself a drink to calm his nerves. You’d stare at it for a minute before asking “Is it finished? Can I listen?”. He’d nod before you gave him a quick kiss and took the device to the living room, leaving him there with his thoughts. An hour later you came back into the kitchen, tears streaming down your face as you ran up to hug him. “Liked it?” he’d ask nervously, this being the first time you’d heard the finished album. “Absolutely loved it” you’d whisper back causing Harry to release a deep breath before taking your face in his hands and kissing you roughly

- He’d start every award acceptance speech with “I’d like to first thank my wife for always supporting me” and then try to catch your eye in the crowd, giving you a soft smile that was only meant for you before going on to thank everyone else

- “We need an intervention Harry. Why are your suits in my side of the closet?” you asked as you came down stairs with one of Harry’s Gucci suits. “I was running out of space and I didn’t think you would notice” he replied with a blush. “Well I did so either you move them or I’m throwing them out” “Love but they’re Gucci you can’t just-” “Ah ah ah I don’t care. My side of the closet” you’d state before dropping the suit in his lap and walking back upstairs

So many others come to mind but these are just a couple that came to mind. I’ll probably do a Dad!Harry version at some point as well

#harry styles imagines #harry styles x reader #husband!harry #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic #harry styles masterlist #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic

521 notes · View notes

absolutepokemontrash · 4 years ago

Note

You don't need to write this if you dont want too because it's up to you but this is something wholsome

WHAT IF L!MC M!M & BBY A!MC BECOME BABIES AND THERE EVEONES HAS TO CARE FOR THEM,

I apologize for having such horrible writing and grammer. I never payed attention in school, nor could I afford to pay attention 👉😎👉

Bro I feel you on the not paying attention in school thing. Fear not, dearest asker, ask for demon babies, and since I am a merciful writer, you shall receive.

Oh Shit, Half-Demon Babies are Running Amok Send Diapers and Help-

Mini summary for the casual reader, L!MC is Lucifer’s half demon child who got summoned into the Devildom to be one of the human exchange students, M!MC is Mammon’s half demon kid, and A!MC is Asmo’s. Let’s get to the fic!

Ah, what a relaxing day... Lucifer was sitting back in his desk chair, enjoying a nice glass of Demonus and listening to one of his favourite cursed vinyls. He had done a damn good job on his work earlier and Diavolo had insisted there was no more work to be done and he could have the weekend all to himself.

Of course, his brothers were still a factor that could have ruined his me-time... on any other weekend! Satan had just gotten a new encyclopedia to read, so he wouldn’t be causing any trouble, Beel and Belphie were going to take that Devildom food tour, Mammon and M!MC were planning on spending the entire weekend shopping, Asmo and A!MC were going up to the human world on Saturday and staying until Sunday, and Levi... He got a sudden burst of inspiration for his Animal Crossing Island and most likely wouldn’t be leaving his room for the next month. Lastly, L!MC wouldn’t be causing any problems, his child would probably spend their time with him rambling about musicals or anime they had seen, and Lucifer found their intense interest very adorable.

Ah... peace and quiet...

...

...why did Lucifer hear crying?

There, standing in the entrance hall of the House of Lamentation, was Solomon, holding three screaming babies.

What, and I cannot stress this enough, THE HELL?!

“Ah, Lucifer,” Solomon attempted to wave hello, but needing to continue to bounce one of the babies on his hip kind of hindered the gesture, not that Lucifer wanted a wave at that moment. “I’m sure you have questions.”

After everyone had gathered into the living room, Solomon explained how a spell gone awry had hit L!MC, M!MC, and A!MC with the effect of turning the three into the screaming infants that stood (or... awkwardly sprawled out) in front of them.

On the bright side, the spell only had a timespan of roughly two days, so they wouldn’t be stuck like that forever.

Everyone sat in silence for a few minutes (save for the babies, who were still either crying or incoherently babbling) as they processed that information. Lucifer, ever the flawless older brother and leader, stood up and clapped his hands together once.

“Alright then, everyone cancel your weekend plans, we need to deal with this.”

Lucifer’s dearest little brothers all whined in protest, Satan in particular. “They’re not our kids, why do Belphie, Beel, Levi, and I need to cancel our plans?!”

“Satan,” Lucifer said sternly. “You don’t remember this, but it took six people to take care of one of you. The kids may only be half demons but there are three of them. We need all hands on deck. Besides, if you all want someone to blame, blame Solomon.”

Everyone turned and levelled their practically murderous glared at the sorcerer, who suddenly pulled baby A!MC into his lap and began to rock them back and forth.

“I have never felt more unsafe.” Solomon laughed nervously. “But you wouldn’t kill me while I’m holding my not-child would you?”

Asmo stomped over and snatched A!MC away from Solomon. “I can’t believe you- ACK! A!MC! Stop drooling!”

A!MC had a long trail of drool coming out of their mouth which caused Asmo to shriek and hold A!MC at arms length away. “Stop that! That’s gross, A!MC, you know better.”

The adorable baby continued to babble and drool.

Mammon picked up M!MC, who almost immediately stopped crying upon seeing Mammon’s watch, they began making grab hands at it. “Ah, ya want the watch?”

M!MC squealed in delight as Mammon dangled the watch above them, Mammon was delighted that his little brat still had their expensive taste, even as a baby. “Hey, look at me! I’m doin’ pretty good! Suck it, Asmo!”

As Asmo and Mammon bickered, Lucifer took the time to look at L!MC, they pulled at Lucifer’s tie and hummed to themselves. They were mind numbingly cute despite the screeching they were doing earlier. The sight tugged at the cold spot where Lucifer’s heart should have been, he had missed this part of his child’s life... maybe just that weekend he’d get a chance to-

“Solomon where do you think you’re going?” Lucifer was pulled from his thoughts when he noticed the shifty bastard trying to make his escape. “You’re staying to help manage this nonsense.”

—————

A!MC may have been an absolute ray of sunshine normally, but as a baby, they definitely lived up to the term demon-spawn.

A!MC would scream, cry and pitch a fit if they didn’t get what they wanted immediately, not that they had any way of articulating what they wanted because they were a god damn baby! Asmo and Solomon were at the point where they were just holding stuff out to A!MC to see if it would make them stop crying.

“Come on butterfly, don’t you like this... antique perfume bottle?” Asmo asked, A!MC took one look at it, then burst into flames and started wailing again. “For the love of my father WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!”

Now there were two sobbing messes in the room, and one was on fire. Solomon quickly magically took care of A!MC’s little fire problem (the baby was fiiiiiiine, demon babies light themselves on fire all the time!), picked A!MC up, sat down on Asmo’s bed, and snapped his fingers. Tiny balls of light gently floated into the air around the three, Asmo looked up from his pity party upon hearing A!MC stop their crying.

“See, you still like my magic, even as a baby, right A!MC?” Solomon asked, A!MC looked around in silent wonder, trying to reach up and touch the lights.

“Oh Solomon, this almost makes me forgive you for screwing up my weekend plans...” Asmo sighed in relief, he sat next to Solomon and pulled A!MC into his lap. “Not very colourful though, is it? Let me fix that.”

Asmo smiled as his own magic added streaks of colour, it was like their very own private showing of the northern lights. A!MC had on one of those goofy baby smiles that can make even the grumpiest person smile back.

Solomon and Asmo shaped some of the lights into shapes and animals, Asmo let a pink butterfly land on A!MC’s nose, much to their adorable delight.

“And that one’s a bird, and that one’s a giraffe,”

“That’s an alpaca.”

“Sorry, an alpaca with a weirdly long neck, oh! And a sheep!” Asmo looked down at his lap where A!MC sat and tickled their sides. “Everyone likes sheep!”

He then quickly shaped a ball of light into a scorpion and made it scuttle into A!MC’s lap. “But I have to say, scorpions are the best.”

The fifth born sighed in contentment as their sweet little hellspawn continued to watch the magic show. Never in his life did Asmodeus ever think he’d be this happy holding a baby, usually babies were things he thought should be handled with hazmat suits, but not at that moment. His little butterfly truly did have him wrapped around their finger.

“Asmo, hey, Asmo,” Asmo looked over at Solomon, who had a glowing triangle over one of his eyes. “Would you like to join my secret society?”

“Solomon, you are ruining the moment.”

——————

“C’mon kiddo! Eat your damn food!” Mammon once again tried to shove the spoon into his kid’s mouth with the same result as the 50 previous attempts.

“YUCKY!” M!MC shouted and slapped the spoon away.

“Here,” Beel took the spoon from Mammon. “Maybe it’s yucky like they said.”

Beel ate what was on the spoon, then smiled brightly. “You can really taste the mango!”

“See bud..? Beel likes it.” Mammon gestured at Beel, who was eating the entire jar of baby food as Belphie watched in amusement. He was such an asset to the team. “Beel! They need to eat!”

“Fine, let me try.” Belphie grabbed another spoon, and waved it in M!MC’s face. “Here comes the airplane... whoosh... whoosh...”

M!MC didn’t budge, Belphie knitted his eyebrows and rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine, be that way.”

Levi pushed open the door to the kitchen, and upon seeing the scene before him, immediately turned and tried to leave. “Nope! Food isn’t worth getting spit up all over me-”

Mammon lunged forward, grabbed the back of Levi’s jacket and practically yanked him into the kitchen, he slapped a spoon into his hand and smiled. “C’mon, do a favour for your super great big brother!”

The third born looked at M!MC, who defiantly stared back at him, the baby had the upper hand and the little brat knew it. Babies were so much cuter in anime...

Levi nervously stepped forward and held out the spoon like a weapon. “O-okay M-M-M!MC... you need to eat your food... pls... pls eat.”

M!MC said nothing, they only did what most babies did.

...

They spun their head 90 degrees until the back of their head was all Levi could see.

Everyone in the kitchen stood in complete silence, until Mammon jumped a foot in the air and started screaming bloody murder. “MY BABY!”

He dove forward and scooped M!MC up in his arms, the baby, obviously freaked out by the sudden loud noise, had begun to cry.

“It’s okay! It’s okay! Uh... uh...” Mammon looked around frantically. “Hush little baby don’t say a word... papas gonna buy you a mockingbird. And if that mockingbird don’t sing, papa’s gonna buy you a diamond ring... and if that diamond ring is brass, butitwon’tbebecauseyouroldmanwouldn’tgetcheatedlikethat-”

M!MC spun their head back to its correct position, but their crying sounds were now several octaves lower... It sounded like if someone put a baby in the Darth Vader mask but without the weird breathing sounds...

Mammon looked to Belphie. “I’m blankin’ on nursery rhymes! Ya hafta know some kid songs!”

Belphie, after being put on the spot, suddenly forgot every single nursery rhyme and lullaby any of his brothers had ever sung to him. Oh! A song popped into his head! He could sing that!

“Lizzie Borden took an axe, gave her mother forty whacks, when she saw what she had done, she gave her father forty one-”

“Not that one!” Mammon squeaked, holding M!MC closer to him. M!MC’s voice had returned to normal, the next problem is that they were only speaking in infernal. “Somethin’ else!”

“There was an old lady who swallowed a fly,” Beel began to sing. “I don’t know why she swallowed that fly... I forgot the rest of the song...”

“Dammit... Leviiiiii!” Mammon wheezed, desperately trying to calm the angrily growling M!MC. “Sing! Sing anything!”

“A-anything?” Only one song came to mind. “Uh um... With the doors of heaven and Hell barred, there is no other but the guard, Master of the Hellish Yard...”

Mammon lit up and nodded like Levi had just offered him a million Grimm. “Aw hell yeah! This song!”

He handed M!MC to Beel and began to dance and sing next to Levi, who had really gotten into the song as well!

“With those sins that you've committed, If you pay you'll be acquitted, and your crimes all permitted,” the two paused for dramatic effect before both belting out the best line in the song.

“ONLY ONES WITH CASH DO WELL, WELL AT LEAST IN HELL!”

As Levi and Mammon continued to sing, M!MC became so entranced by the dance, that they stopped their demonic babbling and just watched the second and third born dance and sing the English cover of an old vocaloid song. Belphie and Beel made brief confused eye contact to make sure the other twin was seeing the same thing.

The duo finished the song and took a bow, Beel lightly tapped M!MC’s chubby baby hands together to make it look like they were clapping. It was enough for Mammon and Levi.

“Thank you, thank you,” Mammon said. “We’ll be here forever, next show ain’t free.”

“We should sing The Tailor on Enbizaka next!”

“Levi! No! That song is like... seven minutes long!”

“Hey, morons,” Belphie stuck his thumb at M!MC. “They still haven’t eaten.”

Mammon’s triumphant expression dropped right to the floor. “Ah fuck...”

——————

“Satan, where’s L!MC-” Lucifer looked up at the ceiling of Satan’s room and his jaw dropped. “WHAT ARE THEY DOING UP THERE?!”

“I can’t get them down!” Satan hissed back.

L!MC. L!MC the BABY. They were on the ceiling. They were sitting upside down on the ceiling like it was an average Friday. Lucifer was too old for this shit...

“L!MC.” Lucifer held out his arms, L!MC squinted at him, that’s when Lucifer remembered L!MC was practically blind without their glasses. “L!MC, it’s your father, come here.”

“Don’t you think I’ve tried calling them down like that?!” Satan spat as he quickly ran a hand through his hair.

Lucifer shot a glare at Satan, then Lucifer heard something that nearly made his (lack of) heart stop. Oh no- L!MC was yawning-

L!MC yawned and suddenly detached from the ceiling. Lucifer and Satan both dove forward to catch L!MC, which culminated in one of Satan’s piles of books falling down, but with L!MC safe and sound.

“Damn it.” Satan grumbled as Lucifer shifted to properly hold L!MC. “This is going to take forever to clean...”

“That was clean?” Lucifer raised an eyebrow as L!MC began to fuss slightly.

Satan growled and rolled his eyes. “Yes, it was clean thank you very much. I knew exactly where everything was.”

The cat that unofficially ruled the House of Lamentation pranced into Satan’s room like it didn’t have a care in the world, it began to bat at one of the loose papers that had been scattered around the floor. Detective Toe Beans, you’re an esteemed detective, and technically RAD’s mascot, stop that!

Satan scooped up the cat and began to put the books back in the pile, when Lucifer noticed a familiar, beat-up old book lying near the bottom of the pile.

“Ah, I remember this book,” Lucifer leaned down and picked it up, showing the cover to L!MC, who didn’t seem very interested and continued petting the fur part of Lucifer’s jacket. “It’s good for a bedtime story, right L!MC?”

Lucifer tucked the book under his arm and turned to leave when Satan practically shot upwards. “If you think you can just take that out of my room, you’re completely delusional.”

“Are you seriously going to whine about getting a bedtime story for L!MC?”

“CAT!” L!MC looked over Lucifer’s shoulder and reached for Detective Toe Beans. “CAT!”

“Yes L!MC, cat.” Lucifer whispered to them, then turned back to Satan. “And if I’m remembering correctly, I used to read this to you. Do you really want to deprive poor L!MC of bedtime stories from me?”

“Pff... deprive...” Satan rolled his eyes and huffed. “I’d be saving them. You were the only one who never did any voices for the characters, I was bored to sleep.”

Satan walked forward and swiped the book from Lucifer. “If anyone’s reading L!MC a bedtime story, it should be me. I’m twice the storyteller you’ll ever be.”

Lucifer scoffed. “Ridiculous. We’ll both read L!MC a story and they can tell us who did best when they get back to normal.”

“Fine by me.”

The three (four if you count Bean) were soon seated on the couch in Lucifer’s room. Lucifer took the first story.

Satan listened along and absentmindedly pet Bean, hearing a story he had heard over and over again had managed to bring back memories of a time where he had significantly less control over his wrath. Every night he’d demand a bedtime story or he’d throw a tantrum unlike anything the Devildom had ever seen.

The eldest was always there to swoop in and read Satan a story whenever the little ball of seething rage looked ready to kill the unfortunate brother who told him it was bedtime.

It had gotten to the point that Satan could recite most of the stories in the book completely by heart. He chuckled under his breath as he remembered the time he matter of factly told Lucifer that he’d be reading him the bedtime story that night and proceeded to pretend to read the story of The Hydra and the Pufferfish. He hadn’t actually learned to read, much to Lucifer’s dismay, Satan just memorized what to say and when to turn the pages.

Though, it was apparently impressive enough at the time to warrant a head pat from Lucifer.

The fourth born leaned closer to Lucifer to get a better look at the book’s illustrations. They were always slightly off and strange looking, much like the pictures in the Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark book that L!MC had given Satan for his birthday.

Lucifer abruptly stopped reading.

“Why’d you stop?” Satan looked up at Lucifer, then over at L!MC. Aw... Satan didn’t even get a chance to read...

“Our audience has fallen asleep.” Lucifer stifled a yawn and prepared to close the book, Satan quickly shoved his hand on the page to stop him.

“You started reading,” Satan looked away and grumbled. “So at least finish the story...”

Lucifer smirked and opened the book back up. “If you insist, Satan.”

————————

Yayyyyy! Babies! I’m sure the three get back to normal by Monday... hopefully...

Here’s a link to the song Levi and Mammon are singing!

I hope you all enjoyed! As of the time I’m posting this, the next set of Lessons 1-5 Headcanons will be out tomorrow at 8:30 pm EST.

221 notes · View notes

orangeoctopi7 · 4 years ago

Text

Buzzfeed Unsolved: The Suspicious Crash of Stanley Pines

The theme for @stanuary week 3 is Crime... what about... TRUE CRIME? I started watching Buzzfeed Unsolved this last summer, so I’ve been wanting to do something like this.

If you don’t watch Buzzfeed Unsolved, this is probably gonna seem like a lot of rambling.

On the morning of July Fourth, 1982 in the sleepy logging town of Gravity Falls, Oregon, there was a firey explosion that wasn't part of the fireworks and festivities. A car had gone over the edge of the town's famed floating cliffs.

"Floating cliffs?" Shane asked

"They're like, giant overhangs. They're not just floating up in the middle of the air like Pandora or something." Ryan explained, showing Shane a photo on his phone.

"Oh, that's pretty."

"It is really pretty."

"What a beautiful place for a car to careen over a cliff."

Ryan cracked up.

"You get a lovely view as you plummet to your death." Shane imagined.

Between 6:15 and 6:20 PM, the Gravity Falls Police Department received six separate calls reporting seeing a yellow car in flames drive off the edge of the cliff and crash to the valley below.

When investigators arrived on the scene, they found the remains of a crushed and burnt 1971 Subaru DL Coupe. The police report notes finding that the brakes were cut, and evidence of gasoline being poured into the driver’s seat to start the fire. Strangest of all, no body was found in or around the crash, only a few burnt strands of hair.

“So, right off the bat, real suspicious.” Shane commented.

“Yeah, and it only gets more suspicious from here.” Ryan assured his co-host.

“And I’m assuming there’s no chance that they guy, y’know, got up and walked away from the crash?”

“Oh, no, no way. You saw the picture of the cliffs.”

“Oh yeah, no way.”

“There’s no way anyone in the car would have survived that fall.”

“And it was on fire.”

Despite the lack of a body, the police determined from the few burnt strands of hair and an anonymous tip they received at 6:15 PM on the day of the crash, the driver of the car was one Stanley Pines, a 31 year old man from Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey. Allegedly, he had been coming to Gravity Falls, Oregon to visit his twin brother, Stanford, who lived just a ten minute drive from the cliff Stan’s car had driven off.

“Wait, wait, wait--” Shane interrupted Ryan’s explanation, “Twin brothers. Named Stanley and Stanford.”

“Yeah.”

“Who the f___ names their kids like that?”

“I know, right?”

“Were they identical twins?”

“Uh, I couldn’t find anything saying they were definitely genetically identical, but, uh, with the way this case goes, it’s safe to assume they were identical enough.”

“Yikes, I feel sorry for them growing up, can you imagine how often people got them mixed up?”

“Yeah, but imagine the kinds of shenanigans they must have gotten up to!”

“Oh, that’s true. There would have been plenty of shenanigans. Lots and lots of shenanigans.”

“If you had twins, would you give them cutesy twin names?” Ryan asked.

“No.” Shane answered firmly.

“I think I’d just do like, alliterative names. Nothing too similar.”

“Yeah, no I think twins probably have to deal with enough confusion bull___ without having to throw similar names or the same initials into the mix.”

“Interestingly enough…” Ryan started.

“Yeah, I’m guessing from your comments that the twin thing plays into this.”

When interviewed by the police, Stanford claimed his brother never arrived at his house. However, testimonies of other townsfolk reported seeing a red 1967 El Diablo with a distinctive “STNLYMBL” vanity license plate driving up the road to Stanford’s house earlier that winter. The house is out in the woods, isolated from the rest of the town, so no one would drive up that way unless they were going to see the cabin.

“Well what if they just wanted to take a walk out in the woods?” Shane countered.

“It was in early February.”

“Snowshoeing.”

“In a blizzard.”

“Ok, you do not have a weather report for the exact day they saw this car!”

“Two of the testimonies mention there was a snow storm that day. Plus, the license plate says STANLEY MOBILE.”

“Well, Stanley is a fairly common name.”

“You-you’re just being contrary to bug me now, aren’t you?” Ryan accused.

Shane just grinned.

What’s more, that same red El Diablo was the car Stanford now drove.

“What!?” Shane laughed with disbelief for a moment before putting on a mocking tone. “Uh, yeah, he never showed up, but, uh, I have his car. I’m still driving it. Y’know, seemed like a waste to just let it sit in the driveway.”

“He didn’t even change the license plate.” Ryan added.

“Oh, of course not!” Shane said sarcastically. “Why go through all that trouble?”

Upon further inspection, the car that crashed was registered to Stanford, and had been reported totaled almost seven years prior.

“It’s interesting that they say it was totaled.” Ryan commented. “Because totalled just means that the damage is more expensive to fix than the car is worth, so it could have still been drivable.”

“And if you’re trying to fake a car crash, what better to use than an already worthless car?” Shane agreed.

“Exactly.”

Stanley Pines was declared dead by auto accident and the case was closed in September of 1982, due to lack of evidence and quote: “A lack of interest from the involved parties”.

“A lack of interest from the involved parties!? What the h___ does that even mean?” Shane asked in bewilderment.

“It’s odd, to be sure.”

It’s when we look into the background of the presumed dead Stanley, and his brother Stanford, that this case becomes truly bizarre.

Stanley Pines left home at the age of 17, and had brief but unsuccessful careers as an amature prize fighter and as a salesman, before he turned to a life of crime. Prior to his reported death, he had been in prison five times, in three different countries, and had lived under at least eight different assumed names, with several others that were never confirmed. He had known ties to the mob and drug cartels.

“Quite the shady character. That might explain why the police didn’t look too closely into his ‘death’.” Shane put air quotes around “death”.

“Well, does it? I mean, if they thought his death might have been related to the mob…” Ryan argued.

“They know better than to mess with the mob, even in Oregon.”

“I mean, we have seen in several past True Crime episodes, what can happen if you mess with the mob.”

“Oh yeah.”

“You don’t wanna do it.”

“Nope.”

His brother Stanford was no less strange. He was born with fully-functional polydactyly, meaning he had six fingers on each hand. It’s worth noting that after 1982, Stanford no longer had 6 fingers. He claims that he had them surgically removed, because, quote: “I was sick of people staring.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” Shane said doubtfully.

“You don’t believe that explanation?”

“Let’s just say I find it highly suspect.”

Stanford was also a certified genius, graduating with the most PhDs Backupsmore University had ever awarded. As a graduate student, he worked as a researcher and inventor for the US Government. Some sources say he worked on top-secret experiments.

In 1975, he received a $100,000 research grant, which he used to move to Gravity Falls and become a Paranormal Researcher. When he arrived in Gravity Falls, he was the subject of many rumors throughout the town, due to his reclusive nature and strange area of study.

“Oh, so this guy was basically you.” Shane pointed out.

“He’s basically me if I didn’t have you.” Ryan agreed.

“Awww, that’s sweet!” Shane placed a hand over his heart.

Many residents reported seeing strange lights coming from Stanford’s home in the woods starting almost as soon as he moved in, as well as strange sounds.

“Well, it seems like Gravity Falls is a pretty small town. People gossip.” Shane reasoned.

“Ok, yeah, but people gossip about who’s cheating on who, or what business secretly sells drugs out the back. They don’t gossip about strange lights coming out of the new neighbor’s basement.”

“They could. It’s gossip. Gossip can be about anything.”

Reports of the lights stopped in late January of 1982. Just four months later, in March, Stanford began opening up his home for tours, and in a matter of weeks, transformed his home into a tourist stop called the “Murder Hut.”

“Oh my g__.” Shane stifled a laugh. “A little on the nose there, don’t you think?”

“He did rename it to the Mystery Shack about a year later.”

“Hmm, yeah I wonder why?” Shane asked facetiously.

Stanford also exhibited paranoid behavior on several occasions before the crash, especially in the early months of 1982.

One local reported seeing Stanford screaming “No it isn’t, you creeps! I can see you just fine!” down an alleyway. Several other eyewitnesses reported seeing him fall out of his seat at the Triple Digits Truck Stop Diner on Route 14 and scream for something to “get out of his mind” before fleeing the building.

“So, he definitely seemed to think something was out to get him.” Ryan commented.

“Not the words of a sane man.”

“Unless something really was out to get him.”

“Eeeeh, even then…” Shane wiggled his hand in a so-so motion.

Dan Corduroy, one of the few people who had regular contact with Stanford before he opened the Mystery Shack, had this to say about the sudden change from research lab to tourist trap:

“Oh, he’s definitely been acting differently. He was really shy before, hard to talk to even. He seemed uncomfortable spending a lot of time with people. I’d invite him over to one of my family’s cabins to visit, but he only ever wanted to visit the haunted one while we were all out of town. I’d say it was a good change, though. It wasn’t good for him to be alone all the time like that. I’m glad he’s finally spending time with other people.”

“He only wanted to visit our haunted cabin.” Shane repeated with disbelief. “Hey, do you wanna come over to visit one of our cabins?” He put on a voice. “Uh, that depends, what kind of cabins have you got?’ ‘Well there’s one by the lake, one with a nice view of the valley, and one that’s haunted.’ ‘Oh, I’ll take the haunted one!”

“What gets me is he only wanted to visit the haunted cabin while everyone else was out of town. We’ve stayed in our fair share of haunted places, and it was bad enough staying overnight, just me and you, but there is nothing that could convince me to spend the night in one of those places all by myself.”

“I mean, I’m pretty sure none of the places we’ve been to have actually been haunted, but I see what you mean. It’s not fun to go to a haunted house by yourself. It’s kinda boring.”

“Um, we’re not gonna get into this discussion now, because we still haven’t even gotten to the theories yet, but you’re wrong.”

The case came to light again in August of 2012, when Federal agents arrested Stanford Pines, and detained him for several hours for questioning. By the next day, he had been released, and officials stated that his arrest had been due to a false lead. What exactly that false lead was, however, was never stated.

Now that we’ve gone over the extensive background of this case, let’s get into the theories of what really happened that 4th of July in 1982.

Theory #1: The theory put forth by the police, that Stanley Pines died in a fiery car accident.

“So then how do they explain what happened to the body?” Shane asked.

“It doesn’t say.” Ryan.

“And why were the breaks cut?”

“No explanation given.”

“That’s a stupid theory, those cops ought to be fired.”

Ryan stifled a laugh. “You’re not wrong.”

Theory #2: That Stanley killed his brother, made it look like his own death, and took over his brother’s life. This would explain the loss of his extra fingers, the sudden change in behavior that led him to open up the Mystery Shack, and his sudden acquisition of Stanley’s car. It does not, however, explain the lack of a body in the crash.

“He could have disposed of his brother’s body somewhere else, and then just like, left an ice block on the gas pedal and let the car run itself off the cliff.” Shane theorized.

“That’s possible. I was also thinking, maybe the body was gone. Maybe Stanley didn’t necessarily kill Stanford, maybe they met up in the woods, Stanford got eaten by a bear, and Stanley, who was already in trouble with the mob, took advantage of the situation, and faked his own death.”

“How--why did you work your fear of bears into this?”

“That’s just my variation on this theory.”

“Then why all the secrecy? Why not say that he was the one who got eaten by the bear? Why fake the car crash and then say his brother never showed up?”

“Because if the mob knew he’d talked to his brother before he died, maybe they’d come question him?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s a possibility.”

Theory #3: That Stanford killed Stanley and made it look like an accident. People who support this theory say the psychological trauma and guilt of killing his own brother may have driven Stanford to change his appearance and behavior to more closely resemble that of his dead brother.

“That’s… kind of a stretch.” Shane said slowly. “I feel like, Occam's Razor, theory 2 is more plausible.”

“What makes you say that one’s more plausible?”

“I dunno, just saying ‘He killed his brother and took his place’ seems a lot more likely than ‘The other brother killed him and the guilt drove him to act like his brother. I don’t think that’s how psychology works.”

Theory #4: Both brothers are still alive. Stanley, on the run from the mob, came to his brother Stanford for help. Meanwhile, Stanford was worried about someone or something that was out to get him. They came to a solution that would solve both their problems: switching places. They would fake Stanley’s death, throwing the mob off of Stanley’s trail. Then, Stanley would take Stanford’s place in the public eye, while Stanford went into hiding.

This theory is supported by photos that surfaced on Facebook in 2012. Several photos of Gravity Falls after a series of earthquakes did extensive damage to the town show what is supposed to be Stanford. However, another man that looks just like him is seen standing in the background. Interestingly enough, both mens’ hands are obscured in all of these photos.

While the photos haven’t been analysed by any professionals to definitively determine if either of the men are Stanley Pines, it has been determined that the photos are not edited.

“Would the whole photo recognition software even work on identical twins?” Ryan wondered.

“I don’t think so?” Shane answered unsurely. “I mean, my Facebook facial recognition auto-tag doesn’t even recognize my mom half the time, so I wouldn’t be surprised if twins throw it off.”

“Just looking at some of these photos yourself, what do you think?” Ryan handed a few print-outs from his folder to Shane.

“Oh wow, yeah, they do look alike.” Shane nodded. “Alright, yeah, I’m convinced. We solved it, guys! Video over!”

“We actually do have one more theory.” Ryan informed him.

Theory #5: Stanford was abducted by aliens.

“Oh for f___’s sake--” Shane threw his hands up in frustration. “We have four perfectly good, plausible explanations, and you have to throw that in!”

“This one actually does have some evidence behind it.”

“Bull____, but go on.”

Stanford was a professional paranormal researcher. Although he was very secretive about his research, even to his grant committee, some of his research notes do list looking for proof of ancient aliens visiting the valley before European contact. Could it be the thing he was afraid of was aliens?

“... That’s it?” Shane asked. “When you said this one actually had some evidence behind it, I thought you meant there was a UFO sighting in the same area around the same time.”

“The negative space between the floating cliffs kinda looks like a UFO” Ryan pointed out.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean a random researcher in the 80’s was abducted by aliens! That’s like, if I found a ransom note for you in the office, but I said ‘Well, Ryan was afraid of bears. Bears used to live in California, there’s one on the state flag outside our building. He must have been eaten by a bear.’ That’s the kind of leap in logic we’re talking about!”

Was this a case of fratricide? Or is this the longest and most elaborate twin switch of all time? For now, this case remains… UNSOLVED.

* * *

“It was really hard for me to stay on topic while I was researching this one.” Ryan admitted as they wrapped things up. “There is a lot of weird stuff related to Gravity Falls, we should go there for an episode one of these days.”

“I’d love to do that, it looks like a beautiful place to visit.” Shane agreed. “Are you sure you wanna do that though? It seems like the place is crawling with haunted cabins and bears.”

“Well, one could argue this entire series is about me conquering my fears, so… Why not?”

#Gravity Falls #Fanfiction #Buzzfeed Unsolved #Stanuary 2021 #Stanley pines #My Writing

424 notes · View notes

kaylaxwrites · 5 years ago

Text

Bar Fight

Pairing: Frank Castle x Reader Words: 2.1k Request: “Idk if you are up for it but if you are, a request: Frank Castle x reader where he has to stitch her up after she gets into a fight with a guy at the bar who was hitting on her and touched her inappropriately, Frank being both mad at her for putting herself in danger and fighting a bigger guy and also being impressed at how baddass she is because he didnt expect her to get into a fight” (anon) A/N: god I wish I could write smut bc this got real close folks. and this accidentally skipped the two requests above this, but I’m finishing up Punisher season 2, so I have a little bit more inspo for Frank

Warnings: reader gets groped nonconsensually by a stranger, reader gets called a bitch (but I don’t think I used anything worse), lots of cursing, but I mean, it’s a punisher fic

You sipped at your drink as you sat at the bar, fiddling idly with the straw your drink was served with, waiting for Frank to show up. It was your weekly date—between your job and Frank’s…whatever he did, it was hard to find the time to spend with one another. But Frank was running late. And you were getting annoyed.

As you debated sending Frank a text, a man slid against the bar next to you, despite the numerous empty seats on either side of you. You rolled your eyes. You didn’t feel like dealing with whatever bullshit this was about to bring. You tried your best to ignore him, but looks like he was going to make that impossible.

“Hey there,” he said, ducking his head down to try and get in your line of sight.

“Hi,” you deadpanned. You glanced around the room, hoping Frank had arrived without you noticing.

“What’s your name, gorgeous? I’m Aaron.”

You finished the last of your drink in one quick gulp. “Does it matter?”

“Just making conversation, baby, what’s the big deal?”

You swiveled in your chair to face him. “The deal is I’m clearly not interested. Now fuck off and go bother someone else.”

“Don’t be like that, baby,” he said as he slid his hand down your back to grope at your ass and hip. You ducked your head down and grimaced. Looks like it was gonna take more than a verbal no to get rid of this guy. Fuck. You rolled your head back up to look at the man, a fake smile plastered on your face. From his answering smirk, he fell for it.

You slid down from your seat and swung your jacket over your shoulders, tossing a handful of dollar bills on the counter to cover your tab. “Let’s take this outside, handsome,” you said, brushing past him and heading for the door. The instant your face was out of his sight, your smiled dropped and you rolled your eyes as he trailed after you. You could practically feel his gaze on the swing of your hips as you walked.

Pushing the door open, you breathed in the crisp fall air as you stepped outside, thankful for the easy breeze that cooled your skin and settled your mind. You were already wound up from the workday you just had and this definitely wasn’t how you wanted to finish out your evening. You just wanted to be with Frank and not have to worry about anything other than you and him.

As you walked around the corner of the building to the alleyway, you briefly went over the self-defense moves Frank had taught you in the past year or so you’d known him. With the practice from all the drills he made you run, you were confident you could take this guy—at least enough to shake some decency into his head and to send him running with his tail tucked between his legs.

You allowed the man to cage you in against the wall, a hand on either side of your head. You fought down your gag reflex as his smoke-coated breath fanned over your face. “You gave in pretty quick,” he said. “The chase is half the fun.” He leaned in closer to you, widening his stance. You grinned to yourself at the opportunity the movement presented.

“Harass all your girls like that?” you asked. A confused raise of an eyebrow was all he had time for before you were moving.

In one quick exhale, you brought your knee up into the man’s groin. As he doubled over, you slammed your elbow into the side of his head. You took a few steps away to give yourself distance and prepare for you next move, but he recovered faster than you thought he would. Within a few seconds, he was on you, wrapping you in a bear hug from behind. This was the most recent move you learned from Frank, but you had no time to hesitate. You dropped your center of gravity and rolled forward, flipping the taller man over your shoulder. You scrambled to your feet, but a sharp pain at your calf nearly brought you to your knees. You glanced down and the deep red on your pant leg nearly made you nauseous.

The fucker had a knife and he sliced your leg open. And these were your favorite pair of pants!

Before you could let your anger and adrenaline consume you and make you attempt to beat the man within an inch of his life (keyword: attempt), he let out a squeal. You glanced over. A boot was pressed none-too-gently into his wrist—you could almost hear the bone snap. You followed the leg up until you met Frank’s eyes.

You breathed a sigh of relief.

Frank slid his attention back to the man at his feet. Aaron was frantically trying to pry Frank’s boot off of his arm, but Frank was immovable. “The hell is going on here?” he asked, looking to you for answers.

Before you could answer, Aaron started stammering out an answer. “She—she started it, man! I was just—I was just defending myself!”

“That right?” Frank’s eyes turned to yours once more.

“More or less,” you shrugged, more focused on the gash on your leg. Maybe you had started the altercation, but… “Asshole groped me at the bar. Thought I knew enough to teach him some manners.”

“Yeah? We’ll talk about that later,” he said, pointing to you before returning his attention to the man at his feet. “You out here assaulting women?”

“It’s not like that, man! C’mon, get off me!” Aaron cried, struggling to pull his arm free.

Frank knelt to get closer to the man’s face, never easing the pressure on his wrist. “Calling my girl a liar, then?”

“Goddamn bitch led me on!” Aaron shouted.

“I was minding my own goddamn business!” you shouted back, plopping yourself onto the ground and pressing your hand against your still-bleeding wound.

“See?” Frank said, leaning even closer to the man pinned on the ground. “I think I believe her over you.” He pressed harder into the man’s arm, pressing until you could hear it snap from several feet away. You almost winced in sympathy.

“I didn’t know she was yours!” Aaron screamed as his forearm snapped clean in two.

“Doesn’t fucking matter.”

The next few moments were a blur. You kept your eyes on your leg, trying to ignore the constant sound of Frank’s fist pounding into flesh. Sure, maybe you started the fight, but you hated watching Frank finish them. After several minutes, you called out his name.

“Frank,” you said, softly at first. Then louder. “Frank. Frank!” On the third call of his name, he paused. He didn’t look at you, but you knew he was listening. “Piece of shit’s not worth it.” He moved to swing another punch, but you called out again, “He’s not worth it. Frank, please. I just want to go home.”

With a huff, Frank rose from his knees. He gave one last kick to Aaron’s ribs before turning to you. You took his outstretched hands and he pulled you to your feet. You wobbled for a moment, but Frank was there to steady you. He pulled your arm over his shoulder and grabbed you around the waist. Half carrying you, he helped you limp home.

The stairs to your apartment turned out to be one hurdle you couldn’t clear. After gasping and whimpering your way up a handful of stairs, Frank had had enough and pulled you into his arms, carrying you up the remaining flights.

Once in your apartment, Frank sat you gently on the bathroom counter before ducking down to grab the first aid kit from the cabinet underneath you. He sat on the closed toilet seat and pulled your injured leg across his lap. You winced as he pulled your pant leg up and over your wound. He poured medical-grade alcohol onto a gauze pad and began cleaning the skin around the gash. “What, no scotch to pour over my open wound dramatically?” you tried to joke. You’d seen Frank stitch himself up dozens of times now and not once did he ever use the actual alcohol meant for cleaning wounds.

Frank just glanced up at you before returning to the task at hand. “It’s gonna need stitches,” he said.

“Shit, really?” You leaned down to take a closer look. Surely it couldn’t be that bad, right? But the sight nearly turned your stomach and you leaned back, closing your eyes. “Yeah, okay.” You tried to psych yourself up. It couldn’t be that bad, right? Frank did it all the time without flinching, you could handle it, right?

Frank gave no warning before sliding the needle through your skin. “Fucking shit,” you cried out, clutching the edge of the sink so hard you thought it might break. The other seven stitches were a similar stream of curses. At one point, Frank had to hook his elbow around your ankle to keep you from kicking out. He scolded you for squirming, but you didn’t really register the words.

You breathed heavily when it was over, panting against the wall. Frank carefully wrapped gauze around your calf and tapped your knee when he was finished. He slid you to the edge of the counter to make enough room for him to wash his hands in the sink. “How…do you do that?” you asked him.

“Years of practice,” he deadpanned.

He packed up the first aid kit wordlessly, not once looking at you. When he was finished, he just stared blankly into the sink, thoughts churning in his head. His anger radiated off him in waves. You were the first to break under the oppressive silence. “Frank?” you asked hesitantly.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he exploded after a heavy inhale. “Huh, Y/N? What made you think you could go up against a man twice your size?”

“I was thinking I had a great teacher—”

“For self-defense! Not to go after the first guy you see!”

“He fucking groped me, Frank! What, I’m supposed to let that slide by? Ignore him until he finds some other girl to harass, to assault?”

“That’s not what I’m saying—”

You let out a dry laugh. “Then what are you saying, huh?”

“You call me. You call me and I handle it.”

“I don’t need some knight in shining armor to come and rescue me!” you shouted, leaning into his personal space.

Just as quick, he was right back in your face, pushing himself between your thighs to be that much closer. “And I don’t need you throwing yourself into harm’s way!”

You stared into each other’s eyes, chests heaving. Like a coil snapping back into place, his lips were on yours. Your head ricocheted off the mirror behind you, but you barely felt it. Your arms were looping around his neck, ankles hooking over his hips, pulling him closer, closer. But it wasn’t close enough.

His hands roamed over every inch of skin he could touch. Starting by rubbing his thumbs softly over your cheekbones, sliding down your neck, palms brushing over your collarbones. Easing over your shoulders and down your arms next, gripping protectively at your waist, massaging at your hips. Grazing over your thighs, down your calf—one misplaced press against your newly stitched wound had you gasping and pulling away.

Frank instinctually moved to step away from you, but you grasped at the collar of his shirt to keep him in place. You leaned your forehead against his, using the time to catch your breath. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—” Frank started quietly.

“I’m fine,” you whispered in response. “Just caught me off guard, that’s all.”

Frank settled back between your thighs, leaning his weight against the bathroom counter you were still sat upon. He took a minute to let his eyes roam over your face before you spoke. “You’re pretty great, you know that?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Watching you toss that man over your shoulder like he was nothin’… Sexiest goddamn thing I’ve seen.”

You laughed, throwing your head back. “Well, I did learn from the sexiest man alive. Think if I petitioned to get you on the cover of People’s Magazine it would blow your cover?” He laughed, shaking his head. “Just a bit?”

“Let’s get you to bed,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“So you can ravage me, Mr. Castle?”

Frank pulled you to the edge of the bathroom counter and wrapped an arm under your thighs, lifting you and carrying you to your bedroom. “We’ll see about that.”

#frank castle x reader #the punisher x reader #punisher x reader #the punisher imagine #frank castle imagine #mcu imagine #mine

483 notes · View notes

oldguardhc · 5 years ago

Text

Old Guard hc #123

AN: @flamingbluepanda always says they love Joe and Nicky and how Nicky loves Joe and Joe loves Nicky. They’re wise words, so I wrote this. I used @sunshineandchemistry art for Joe painting.

There are many things Nicky doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand how information travels from the device in his hand to somebody else’s on the other half of the world. He doesn’t understand why his body always insists on pressing the mental-mute button from 1-4 every afternoon or how Booker’s neck doesn’t ache every single morning. He definitely doesn’t understand why his heart is suddenly pounding in his chest, spreading nervous-like jitters from his tongue to his toes that reminds him of those early years, when just peeking at Joe, Yusuf, from the corner of his eyes would have the words tangling in his mouth, making him come across as a total fool.

It’s strange; he isn’t that boy anymore. He grew up. He married that man who brought out all the emotions in him. Several times. 42 times, to be exact. He’s had centuries more experience than the boy clutching the cross around his neck, whispering prayers to the stars. He’s not that kid anymore.

His body begs to differ.

Joe’s painting. He’s in nothing but his plaid-striped pajama pants that cling to his hips and stretch across his ass in an obscene manner that Nicky loves. They’re still playing the game where they both pretend he didn’t re-stitch the pants before gifting them to Joe a year ago. Nicky suspects the only reason Joe hasn’t given in is because he enjoys the ego boost whenever he walks in-front of Nicky in those pants. It’s a good enough reason for Nicky.

But as tantalizing his husband’s beautiful ass is, it’s not what’s currently messing Nicky up.

Well, not entirely.

What’s currently messing Nicky up is Joe is painting shirtless. Joe never paints shirtless. Joe likes to wear over-sized t-shirts under jackets under an apron and his “lucky” pants when he paints. Not to mention socks under boots. Nicky has heard the ‘Paint is a bitch to scrub off of toes’ rant so many times, he could recite it in a coma by now.

The point is, when Joe paints, he has more layers than The Grand Canyon; meaning that whatever muse crawled into his dreams last night must have bit hard for Joe to even consider skipping the sock drawer.

“Morning,” Joe says. Nicky blinks. He’s been standing in the doorway of Joe’s studio for at least two minutes and 34 seconds if Joe has noticed and verbally acknowledged him. Did he really just spend two and a half-minutes staring at his husband? He doesn’t even remember thinking anything besides Yusuf since laying eyes on his shirtless husband.

Nicky clears his parched throat, follows the smooth flick of Joe’s wrist to his paint splattered fingers and says, “Good.” He feels like there’s something missing in that sentence, like it’s only half-spoken and for the life of him, he cannot remember what goes next. Not when Joe tilts his head to the right, catching the first rays of the rising sun with the gentle slope of his cheek.

He looks like a god: all warm skin over defined muscles.

Nicky could worship him forever.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there. Watching Joe paint is its own form of art that could entertain Nicky for hours. When working on small details, Joe grips the brush practically by the bristles, nose occasionally skimming the canvas. Nicky’s half-convinced he does this because the fumes stimulate creativity. It’s a theory Joe vehemently denies. When Joe isn’t working on the smaller details, he’s two feet away, right arm outstretched with a paintbrush in a more comfortable and higher-up grip, left leg a step behind. He’s on the balls of his feet today, something he would never do if he had his paint boots on.

The jitters fade into a manageable swirl of emotions inside his stomach with every stroke on the canvas. No more does he feel like the boy stealing glances. Instead, he feels like the boy who stared at Yusuf, bursting with love and adoration. As for his pounding heart? Nicky doesn’t think his heart rate will go back down until Joe showers and puts some regular clothes on. Maybe not even then. It’s fine. He’s not going to complain about the way the muscles in Joe’s back ripple every time he picks up more paint with his brush. Or the way streaks of blue paint have slowly accumulated on Joe’s torso.

When the sun begins to hit Nicky, Joe sets down his paint palette on the table and paint brush in a cup of cloudy black water and picks up the canvas he’s been working on all morning. He flips it and...

It’s him.

It’s his eyes staring back at him in the soft tones of watercolor. It’s his mouth, quirked up at the corners. It’s his nose, standing out on the flat canvas. It’s his mole being the only splash of gray amongst the blue. It’s him.

Joe, Mr. 11 AM-is-the-same-as-6 AM, stumbled out of bed at 4:30 AM today, skipping the sock drawer, the boots, the shirt, the apron, the “lucky” pants, because he had to paint this, paint him.

Suddenly, he’s that boy hearing ‘I love you’ from Yusuf for the first time. He’s the boy with tears welling and blurring the world. He’s the boy tripping over a simple ‘I love you too’.

He’s acting like a fool. He needs to swallow the lump in his throat, blink away the tears and form the easiest words in the world; the truest words in the world because he’s not that dumb boy anymore.

He is.

He sniffs, wipes his eyes with the back of his hand and reaches out for Joe because words are failing him and he doesn’t know how to tell Joe that he loves him too. At least, not verbally.

He tells Joe that he loves him by wrapping his arms around his husband and burying his face in his neck. He tells Joe he loves him by squeezing tight and dropping small kisses in-between his tiny gasps. He tells Joe he loves him with small nuzzles and both hands splayed over ribs.

And Joe, his perfect and wonderful husband, whispers the words backs.

There are a lot of things Nicky doesn’t understand. Some are worth pursuing to uncover the mystery — like why pizza rolls keep on appearing in the freezer or how to use fiber lasers to engrave his and Joe’s swords. His body occasionally reacting to Joe like a boy discovering love? Nicky’s perfectly okay with never understanding that.

#the old guard #nicolo di genova #yusuf al kaysani #joe x nicky #kaysanova #hc #i hope i'm not disappointed when i re-read this tmrw morning lol

290 notes · View notes

blu-joons · 4 years ago

Text

Lazy Mornings ~ Jay Park

The feeling of Jay’s breath tickling against the back of your neck caused you to stir, slowly turning around to come face to face with him already wide awake. His smile grew as his eyes met yours, trailing one of his hands up to brush your hair out of your face. You nuzzled gently into his palm as it ran through to your cheek, choosing to settle it there for a few moments.

The room was still dark as you glanced past his shoulder at the clock noticing just how early it still was. It was the one thing about Jay you never understood, he always loved to wake up early in the morning and crack on with his day.

“Did you sleep well?” You asked him, breaking the comfortable silence. “This is early, even for you.”

“I did,” he smiled back at you, “I woke up, and saw you were fast asleep. I didn’t realise I was looking for so long, but then time just ran away with me, and the next thing I knew, you were up.”

Your eyes rolled at his attempts to charm you, pushing the duvet away from your body only for Jay to pull it back over you. “Don’t you have to get ready for work soon?”

“Nope,” he whispered, “I’ve got the day off, so I can spend all day with you.”

His strong arms wrapped back around you, keeping you tightly in position leaving you unable to move. You settled back against his chest comfortably, allowing your eyes to close for a few moments before you felt a trail of kisses press against your neck.

“What do you say to me getting breakfast sorted? I could go down and make us something nice,” he whispered into your ear, proudly smiling as your head nodded in response.

His arms unwrapped from around you, as you went to stand up, Jay quickly pinned you back down, letting you know to relax whilst he took control. You laid in bed whilst he went downstairs and sorted out breakfast. It had been a while since the chance had come around for him to cook for you, and he was determined to make the most of it and show off to you.

After twenty minutes, he reappeared at the top of the stairs with a tray in his hands and two plates of food served. Your eyes lit up at the delicious smell that followed him back into the bedroom, sitting down beside you as you pushed yourself up.

“Now, I’ve tried hard to make it perfect, but I’m no chef, so don’t get too excited,” he told you, passing one of the plates across to you. “If you don’t like it though, I will be offended.”

Your head shook, nudging his bicep gently before taking your first mouthful of food. A hum of delight came from you as you took in the strong taste of the avocado and eggs that he’d made for you, as he liked to describe it, his signature dish.

“It’s delicious,” you complimented, resting your head against his shoulder. “When you retire, you can definitely get yourself a job as my personal chef, that role is yours.”

The two of you fell back into your usual comfortable silence whilst you enjoyed your breakfast, waiting until you’d both finished to start planning your day. Jay had positioned you between his legs, allowing your back to press against his chest.

“What do you reckon to a day of nothing?” You suggested.

It had been a long time since the two of you found the time to spend a full day together. Jay’s schedule had been packed with all the work he’d been doing, any time he could fit you in he tried to spend as much time with you as possible. He knew you’d sit and tell him that you understood, but that never stopped him from feeling guilty whenever he neglected you.

“I think you can read my mind,” he chuckled, “I’m thinking as much food as we can possibly eat and some good movies on Netflix, how does that sound to you?”

Your head nodded instantly, if your morning were so much as a hint of how the rest of your day would play out, it sounded like a dream to you. “I think that sounds perfect.”

“And for once, there’s no one around to tell me what I can and can’t eat, I can do what I want.”

“You’ll pay for it at the gym tomorrow,” you reminded him, but his shoulders shrugged, the extra work would be worth it if it compensated a day spent with you.

He reached around the sides of the duvet, carefully pulling it back up to cover your bodies. His lips pressed several times against your shoulder making you squirm as you tightened the duvet around yourself to try and generate a bit of warmth.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were cold,” Jay scolded, running his arms up and down your body. “Do you want me to go and make you a hot drink or something?”

Your head shook, pressing yourself harder against him so that he couldn’t move. “A drink will be no good, I’d much rather use you to warm me up. Your muscles are like my blanket these days, they always keep me nice and warm.”

He was proud of his body, every opportunity he had to flex in front of you he took, and now was no different as he made sure to show off the strength in his arms to you.

Your eyes rolled, but you still couldn’t help but inspect closely at how defined his arms were. Coupled with his tattoos, you often found yourself getting lost in them, tracing around all of his inks with the tip of your fingers when you needed a distraction.

His lips pressed to your cheek to snap you out of your daydream. He knew you always found yourself getting lost, even if you’d try and protest that you weren’t staring at him. He craved the attention that he got from you, always searching for more.

“It’s alright to admit that you like what you see.”

“Don’t you start,” you warned him, pushing your elbow into his waist. “I was just staring because I was tired, I’m not used to waking up so early, no thanks to you. How do you wake up at this time so early every day, it’s ridiculous?”

“Close your eyes for a while if you’re tired,” he instructed, “I’m happy to lay here with you until you wake back up.”

With his words, you laid your head back into the crook of your neck, allowing your eyes to close. Jay tucked the duvet back up underneath your neck to keep you warm, pressing the side of his head against yours. His eyes tilted down as light snores came from you soon after, feeling over your heart as it rose and fell.

“You’re cute,” he blushed, squeezing your body gently. He thought you were asleep until he felt your hand press over his.

“At least be quiet whilst I’m trying to sleep,” you joked, “how am I supposed to sleep if you’re going to start talking to me?”

“I’ll be quiet from now on, promise. I just thought you’d want to know how cute you were.”

---

Masterlist

#jay park #jay park imagine #park jaebeom #park jaebeom imagine #2pm #2pm imagine #2pm jaebeom #jay park scenario #jay park reaction #jay park one shot #jay park drabble #jay park fluff #park jaebeom scenario #park jaebeom reaction #park jaebeom drabble #park jaebeom one shot #park jaebeom fluff #kpop #kpop imagine

254 notes · View notes

chatonne-rousse · 4 years ago

Text

Orange You Glad I'm Not Seeing Green (Nope, Totally Not Jealous At All)

A continuation of my Gifts from the Heart series, the whole of which is written as a gift for my dear friend @sketchy-panda.

Read it on Ao3 here.

Follows Great Minds (and Kind Hearts) Think Alike, which can be found here.

*********

The first forty-two minutes had gone so well.

Marinette was acting weird, but a normal, endearing weird - the kind of weird that warms his chest with affection and makes him smile. There is no one quite like her, and Adrien knows her friendship is a sweet blessing indeed. Even if it takes a moment or two to decipher her jumbled sentences sometimes. Even if she's a teeny tiny bit of a disaster.

When Ms. Bustier had paired them up for a literature project, he was thrilled. Adrien would never scoff at the chance to spend time with his dear friend, much less to enjoy a window of escape, however short, from the echoing silence of his own home. He'd turned to her with unabashed excitement to find her cheeks and ears pink and a strange mix of joy and terror in her eyes.

"Yay!" she'd squeaked, the word accompanied by awkward jazz hands. This had prompted a nudge under the table from Alya that didn't escape his notice. With that, she'd taken a deep breath, set her shoulders, and asked if he'd like to come over after school to work on it together.

Would he ever! The wave of happiness that had risen in his chest must have shown on his face, but when Marinette's smile had softened to match, he realized he didn't care if he grinned like a fool in front of the class. An afternoon with a friend - a friend! - was such a rare treat. And he's already read The Three Musketeers, so he'd been sure this would be a breeze.

And it was. Until six minutes ago, when they realized that the plate of cookies they'd been snacking on had dwindled to one. This discovery came by way of both of them reaching for it without looking, hands meeting over the plate amidst blushing cheeks and murmured apologies. With an awkward laugh, he'd taken the final cookie, carefully broken it roughly in half, and offered the slightly larger piece to his wide-eyed project partner.

Their fingers brushed in the handoff. She breathed a thank you. He smiled graciously.

It all happened so quickly after that.

Before he could take a bite of his cookie, her elbow had knocked into her glass, sending orange juice across her desk, her lap, his stocking feet.

"Disaster!" Marinette had shrieked, prompting Mrs. Cheng to peek through the open trap door a few moments later, looking first at her daughter dancing frantically around her now-toppled desk chair and then to a bewildered Adrien, still holding half a cookie in one hand and Marinette's keyboard, rescued from the rogue wave of orange juice, in the other.

She'd just smiled. "I'll bring up some towels, dears."

Adrien could only nod.

Now, Marinette stands in front of her sink, wiping the front of her pants with a damp towel and sighing every thirty seconds. He's barefoot, his socks whisked off to parts unknown, ostensibly to be laundered, though he'd protested that wasn't necessary. Their cookie and juice supply has been refilled, and calm has settled over the room again. Sort of.

"I'm so sorry, Adrien," she says quietly, a tinge of misery at the edge of her voice. "I'm so clumsy."

He tries to make her smile the best way he knows how. "It's okay, Marinette. Orange you glad it didn't get on your drawings for the project?"

She stops trying to clean off her jeans and raises her eyes to his. "Did you just...?"

His eyes gleam. "You know, workers in the orange juice factory will lose their jobs if they can't concentrate."

Her surprised giggle is incredibly gratifying. He takes it as a green light to continue. "Do you know what language oranges use to talk to each other?" When she shakes her head, he gleefully answers, "Mandarin!"

"You'd fit right in, then!" Marinette laughs heartily, the sound making his grin widen until it hurts. (It's worth it.)

"Well, I am very a-peeling. I have a real zest for life."

She groans, though she's still laughing, and facepalms with the hand holding the towel. Adrien watches as she realizes how sticky it is against her face, throws it on the counter, and blushes when she makes eye contact with him once more. His own smile never dims. Making a friend laugh like this is one of life's great joys. Laughing with a friend like this is one of the greatest.

Finally, she washes her hands at the sink and he takes a moment to right her desk chair, gazing around the room to the sound of her drying her hands. Magazine photos of him still remain, though they mix on corkboards and wall collages with pictures of friends and family. His own face smiles - truly smiles - back at him from several of them. He remembers each of these days, shining memories with beloved friends that he treasures. He's glad Marinette treasures them, too.

His gaze slides to the corner of her desk, near her sewing machine and a large box he assumes is full of sewing notions, and his breath catches. There, on twin display stands to keep them upright, are two figurines he doesn't know how he missed earlier. Ladybug holds her yo-yo in her right hand, Chat Noir's baton is held in his left. Their tiny plastic hands clasp in the middle, just as they were molded to do for the 1st Anniversary Special Partners Edition figures he would know anywhere.

Marinette sits back down in her desk chair, looks at him, then follows his gaze to the figurines. Adrien turns his eyes to her.

"I didn't know you were a superhero fan, Marinette!"

She laughs a nervous laugh as a blush rises to her cheeks. "Me? A fan of Chat Noir? Psssh." She waves a hand as if to dismiss the idea.

He isn't sure if he should be offended or gratified. He'd certainly prefer the latter.

"Why wouldn't you be a fan? I am. I think the heroes are awesome."

"You do?" she breathes, eyes wide.

"Of course! Paris is lucky," he elbows her arm gently and winks, "to have them."

Her giggle makes him smile again. He always feels so light and so carefree here, in her warm home, with her friendly parents and a plate of cookies and the sweetness she seems to radiate in his presence. Paris is lucky to have superhero protectors, but he's lucky in his own way to have found this kind of gentle contentment in a world denied to him for so long.

"I guess we should get back to the project--"

"Where did you get them?"

They each speak at the same time, twin blushes and stammered apologies following just as with the cookie incident.

Marinette breaks the ensuing awkward silence first. "One of my best friends gave them to me."

"I'm not surprised," Adrien responds with a grin. "Alya might be the biggest fan in Paris!"

The blush on her cheeks spreads to the tips of her ears and her eyes widen before she blinks. "Oh, um...it wasn't Alya." Marinette looks at her hands in her lap and then back up to him. "But she does have this set. She's kind of obsessed."

Strange, he'd never heard about any other best friends from Nino or Alya, though that didn't mean Marinette didn't have a very close online friend or someone in the design community she just hadn't talked much about before. He hopes this person knows what a good friend she has in Marinette, that she treasures her like Marinette deserves to be treasured. Though of course she'd gifted her with the set of figurines, so this friend at least knows quality merch when she sees it. Adrien's heart warms at the thought of Marinette having such good friends. She deserves nothing less.

"Adrien? Are you okay?"

He blinks twice, shaking himself from his reverie. "Oh. Yeah. I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You were far away for a minute there."

He smiles warmly. Marinette is so thoughtful. "I promise. I was just thinking what a great best friend she must be to have given you such a cool gift."

"Oh," she says quietly, looking at the figures again, though Adrien is still focused on his friend. He watches as her eyes soften and her smile turns gentle before she speaks again. "He definitely is. There's no one better."

Her gaze snaps to his again. "I mean! I'll bet you're better! At being hot. I mean cool! I mean..." She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. "So! The Three Musketeers, eh?" She pulls her notebook back in front of her and opens it to a random page that contains nothing having to do with Alexandre Dumas. She laughs nervously, resolutely staring at the page and not the boy beside her.

The boy who hasn't breathed since her quiet "oh." The boy whose brain is still stuck on one word.

He.

Adrien can feel his smile turn brittle at the edges and forces his face to remain neutral, but it's difficult all of a sudden.

It shouldn't bother him. It shouldn't affect him at all. Marinette is friends with Nino, Kim, and Max, and he doesn't think twice about it. Why should he? This is different, though, somehow. An unknown entity. A boy friend he's never heard of who makes her expression soften like that, with memories of private jokes and gift exchanges and laughter. Probably. That's probably what it's like with Marinette and her other best friend, who isn't Alya and whose name he doesn't know.

An odd feeling twists his stomach. Adrien doesn't like it.

"Well," he starts, sliding his own notebook over and opening to the last page they'd been working on before the orange juice spill, "he has very good taste in Ladybug and Chat Noir merchandise. I have that same set myself."

"You do?" she squeaks, and their eyes meet again.

"I do. But I didn't take mine out of the packaging." He chances a cheeky half-smile at her, the knot in his stomach loosening just a fraction at the smile she returns. "Mine will be pristine when the set is worth millions someday."

When she laughs, the tension in his chest dissipates like springtime dandelion seeds, floating away on a sudden breeze of fresh, sweet joy.

Maybe Marinette's mysterious best friend can make her laugh like this, but right now, Adrien is the one sitting beside her - something rare and precious and not to be taken for granted - and it makes no sense to do anything other than enjoy the moment.

#gifts from the heart series #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #adrien 👏 loves 👏 marinette 👏#but he's not jealous at all #why would he be?#gift fic #love you sketchy!#miraculous ladybug #ml fan fiction #ml fic #my writing

62 notes · View notes

going-fancognito · 5 years ago

Note

could you do some headcanons of Link and his female s/o going to gerudo town and the guys outside the town flirting with his s/o and Link gets a teensie bit jealous? owo?

The second I read the ask, this scenario immediately popped into my head haha :)

Link tends to be fairly patient and easy-going, so not much can get under his skin that easily

He also knew that you were both very committed in your relationship, so there were no concerns for unfaithfulness

However, he still did not like the stares you were currently getting

The two of you were walking towards Gerudo town so you could do some browsing

While walking through the Bazaar checkpoint, you run into a group of travellers (who were all conveniently male)

They just ‘happened’ to be heading the same way and decide to accompany you. Neither of you saw any reason to refuse, so you agreed.

Link soon wishes you hadn’t, as he watches you walk, oblivious to the admirers practically ogling you from behind

Yes, he knows you look gorgeous wearing that Gerudo outfit, but there was a fine line between admiring and ogling

And those guys were definitely crossing it

He doesn’t want you to become uncomfortable, so he stays silent for now

It wasn’t easy though

They’d constantly use different pick-up-lines on you the entire way there

Each one was worse then the last

(Link’s starting to understand why they’re single)

“Do you have a map miss, ‘cause I’m getting lost in your eyes.”

“You’re beauty is the oasis to my desert.”

You somehow don’t pick up on the heavy flirting

You just assume it was an odd sense of humour and laugh it off

Meanwhile, Link’s not to break out the master sword

“You must be a sand seal, because you managed to seal my heart away.”

...Ok, that last one was kind of clever

(Not it’s not Link, I made that up myself wtf-)

Once you arrive at the town entrance, you make your way inside after promising him to be quick

By the archway, he notices your fan group has also decided to wait for you

He tried to ignore them, But it was impossible to avoid overhearing their loud chatter

One of the men confesses their plan to ask you out once you return

That’s what makes him snap

Without a word, Link angrily stomps his way back to the checkpoint

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

You were currently admiring an array of jewelry displayed at the market

The Gorons may be the experts in mining, but Dear Hylia, these people knew how to bring out a gems beauty

You were having trouble picking between a pair of opal and topaz earrings, when a slender hand presents a sapphire circlet in front of you

Oh wow, how’d you miss this while browsing?

You carefully take the jewelry in your hands, and notice how it’s similar colour your boyfriends tunic

That’s what seals the deal for you (The pun’s unintentional I swear)

The price is a bit over your original budget you’d, but it was worth it

You almost forget to thank the woman that showed it to you in you excitement

You turn around to smile at them. “Thank you, I really appreciate the help- LIN-”

A hand quickly covers your mouth, and your boyfriend quickly makes a shushing gesture at you

Luckily no-one else seems to paid you any mind. You both sigh in relief and Link removes his hand

“What the hell are you doing?” You hiss.

There’d undoubtedly be severe punishment if he was caught inside here

Link just shrugs his shoulders as if to say, “Just felt like it.”

After a minute of incredulity, you just sigh and go along with it

It was Link after all, this wasn’t the first time he’d pulled a stunt like this

He’s honestly just relived he kept the outfit Urbosa had lent him

You both spend the next few hours browsing the many wares offered around town, enjoying each others company all the while

All too soon, it’s time for you to head back

As you both leave, you see the men from that morning still by the entrance

Link tenses up as they grow closer, and tries to block you from the lovestruck idiots

“Well hello cutie, it’s pleasure meeting you on a fine night like this.” One of the men takes Links hand and pecks it

...Say what now?

Link suddenly finds himself surrounded and getting hit on from every side

Oh right, he’s still wearing the Gerudo outfit

Meanwhile, you’re standing nearby as you watch these men shamelessly flirt with you’re boyfriend

Now who’s the jealous one?

(How the turns have tabled)

You manage to force your way past the crowd and to Link’s side.

You grab his arm, and toss a wink at your audience

“Sorry gentleman, I’m afraid this one’s taken.” As soon as you say that, you turn and plant a kiss right on Links lips

The group is left speechless

With your point made, you grab a now very flustered Links hand, and head back to the bazaar

#Link wears the Gerudo outfit all too well #he be a heart breaker for everyone #hide your husbands and wives #botw link x reader #linkxreader #link x reader #botw link #botw headcanons #botw imagines #my writing

487 notes · View notes

aethersea · 4 years ago

Note

May I request 41 - First Kiss and 94 - Hair Brushing/Braiding for the Leverage OT3, please? (Also extra bonus points if you give Eliot beads in his hair like in The Ice Man Job, because we didn't get NEARLY enough of that in the show) Thank you!

I cannot believe I wrote this whole thing out and then never published it. I’m so sorry, it’s been at least twenty-four years since you sent in this ask, please accept my humble apologies and also this ficlet.

However, this prompt is just pure fluff, and I hate to tell you this but I am not a fluff writer. I just can’t pull off that unadulterated sweetness. I am in this fandom for the shenanigans, first, last and foremost! So this fic is now a 5+1 of Eliot and Parker trying to seduce Hardison.

1. Parker thinks they need to give him gifts, so she goes through her stash and picks out the largest, fanciest jewel she’s ever stolen. Then she realizes: Hardison likes stories. He spends hours giving their aliases histories and pets and allergies and favorite foods, he can get a whole sordid history of jealousy and betrayal from a single corporate email chain, and Parker knows for a cold fact that he writes little stories with his online friends about being wizards together.

She goes through her stash again and picks out the most cursed thing she’s ever stolen.

It’s a jeweled statuette, almost as tall as her forearm, made of gold and studded with precious and semi-precious stones. Mysterious deaths have befallen five separate owners of this thing. Its base is dented from the time it was used to bludgeon Owner Number Three to death. The tiny rubies it has for eyes follow you across the room.

Parker puts a bow on it and leaves it in Hardison’s room while he’s sleeping. He wakes up to this horrible little statue watching him from his bedside table.

He texts the group chat, Hey did anyone put an evil little gold guy in my bedroom last night? But Parker chickens out and says nothing (drunkenly betting Eliot that she can seduce Hardison is one thing, but admitting that she likes him is something else altogether). Everyone else texts back variations on “nope.” (Except Sophie, who just sends back a string of heart eyes emojis and a wikipedia link. She loves cursed artifacts.) So Hardison puts the statue away in a closet somewhere and figures he’ll deal with it later.

Parker is mildly offended that he put her gift in a closet. She goes into his room the next night and puts it back on the bedside table, where it clearly belongs.

This goes on for a week. Hardison puts the statue in a desk drawer, then in one of the cabinets in the office downstairs, then in the dumpster down the street. Every day he wakes up to those glittering red eyes watching him sleep. He’s asked his internet buddies if anyone knows a good exorcist. Hardison doesn’t really believe in curses, but also? What the fuck. What the fuck.

2. Eliot assumes the drunken bet will be forgotten by morning. What kind of world would it be if people always followed through on promises they made while they could barely stay vertical? So he spends the morning nursing his hangover and cleaning his knives. Cleaning guns is no good while hungover—all the snaps and clicks of popping things in and out of place sound like actual gunfire when you’re hungover, it’s a nightmare—but knives are quiet and have no moving parts. Buffing and polishing them is soothingly repetitive work, and every once in a while he can throw one at one of the dartboards on the walls and reassure himself that his reflexes are still sound even after that much tequila.

It’s only when he gets Hardison’s text about the golden statuette that magically appeared in his room overnight that Eliot realizes Parker’s actually going for it. After some internal debate about whether he’s going to stoop to this or not, Eliot decides what the hell and starts making plans.

Eliot agrees that gifts are the way to go, but not stolen gifts. Not things. Anyone can give a thing. Proper wooing is about giving experiences.

Eliot plans for three days. On the fourth day, he and Hardison have their irregularly scheduled monthly coffee date, and Eliot texts him beforehand to say he wants to do it at the brewpub this time. Hardison arrives to find a deceptively simple meal: basic country fare perfected through years of experimentation, made with the best ingredients Eliot can get his hands on. And Eliot, after all, is still a retrieval specialist. There’s very little in the world he can’t get his hands on.

And yet the night ends and somehow he has not gotten his hands on Hardison.

This is just not right. Eliot knows how to deploy a smolder, okay, Tangled reference aside he is damn good at flirting and he knows the looks he’s giving Hardison are clear as day. It’d be one thing if Hardison had turned him down, or if he’d been uneasily unwilling, or even if his eyes had widened slightly in suppressed panic and he’d abruptly found a reason to leave. Eliot can take rejection, bet or no, and he’d have bowed out graciously without a fuss. But this was much, much worse.

Hardison didn’t even notice he was flirting.

He’s going to have to up his game.

3. “How do you seduce people?” Parker asks bluntly, turning up at Sophie’s door just past midnight.

Sophie, despite the hour, is utterly delighted by the question.

This goes as well as you would expect.

4. Eliot’s taken a lot of dates to sports games. Hardison may prefer sparkly elves with purple lightning magic to a decent MMA fight, but baseball is the American pastime. Eliot gets them perfect seats, hot dogs from the best vendor in the stadium, even chilled beer that he smuggles in without letting it get warm. It’s going to be a perfect game.

And it is. At first. Hardison, it turns out, has a lot of opinions about baseball. What he does not have is an understanding of the rules. They’re not even into the second inning by the time Eliot finally snaps and starts arguing with him about it.

They make it all the way to the fifth inning before Eliot realizes that Hardison’s basing his complaints off the rules of a game from a Star Wars novel.

They’re at the bottom of the eighth before Eliot will speak to him again.

5. Eliot and Parker are drunk again. This is not intentional. They didn’t even mean to come to this bar, but the smoothie place with the fried oreos that Eliot had brought Parker here to try was playing such incredibly bad music that they’d ordered the oreos to go and fled. The bar was just the coziest looking place on the block, and of course they’d ordered drinks to avoid being rude––Eliot had entertained himself for a few minutes scouring the menu for something that would pair well with fried oreos and popcorn chicken.

And now they’re drunk. The conversation has, perhaps inevitably, turned to the ongoing bet.

“I tried everything!” Parker wails. “I laughed at every joke, I touched my hair constantly, I got him talking about things he likes.” She thunks her forehead on the bar. “All that happened is now I know the complete history of orcs in western literature.”

“Hardison wouldn’t know flirting if it pinched him on the ass,” Eliot grumbles.

Parker slaps his arm. “No pinching Hardison!”

“I’m not going to—I don’t pinch people!”

Parker’s ignoring him. Eliot pouts and takes another sip of his drink. He’s not entirely sure what this one is––it’s blue and kind of fizzy, that’s all he can say for sure. Parker took over the drinks menu several glasses ago, and she’s been picking them based on what has the most fun name to say. Eliot’s pretty sure the alcohol content’s been doubling with each order.

“Eliot,” Parker slurs, “we need to work together.”

“What?”

Parker lifts her head from the bar and frowns at him, the way she does when she’s figured out the obvious solution and is just waiting for everyone else to get on the same page. It’s adorable. It’s always adorable, but right now her eyes are wide and slightly unfocused from the alcohol and she’s listing sideways a little, almost as if she’s unbalanced, and it is the most adorable thing Eliot has ever seen. Parker’s never unbalanced, but some part of Eliot’s fuzzy brain thinks she’s about to fall on top of him and cannot wait to catch her.

“You can’t seduce Hardison,” Parker points out. Eliot is drunk enough to get offended by this, but too drunk to get out a complaint before she continues, “I can’t seduce Hardison. But if we work together, the two of us can definitely seduce Hardison. Together.”

Eliot stares at her. Then he takes another sip of his fizzy blue drink. Later, when questioned, he will blame his next words on that drink.

“Worth a shot.”

They take Hardison to a movie. They research for three weeks beforehand. They find the best movie theater in town, with the nicest seats, the biggest screens, and concession snacks that Hardison likes, and they buy tickets for the midnight premiere of the superhero movie that Hardison hasn’t shut up about for the past month. Parker even hacks into the theater’s computers in a last-minute fit of nerves and cross-references the credit cards with drivers’ licenses to make sure the people sitting in front of them won’t be too tall.

Parker witnesses a kidnapping in the parking lot while the boys are getting popcorn. They don’t even stay long enough to catch the commercials.

+ 1. “Hey Eliot,” Hardison says during movie night, a little over a week later. “Remember the Ice Man Job?”

Eliot groans. “I try not to.”

Hardison throws a piece of popcorn at his face. “Shut up. Remember how you did your hair for that one? With the little—those little beads on, like, a braid?”

Eliot shoots Hardison a suspicious glance. “Yeah, I remember.”

“Teach me how to do that.”

Eliot shoots Hardison another, more deliberate look, this one pointedly directed at Hardison’s complete lack of braidable locks.

Hardison rolls his eyes as if that’s a silly detail to get hung up on and leans forward to dig around in one of the boxes he has under his coffee table. He emerges with a ziplock bag of plastic beads in no time flat and hands it triumphantly to Eliot. Then he yanks a few cushions out from behind Parker, who’s sitting on his other side, and puts them on the floor in front of him. “Sit here?” he asks Parker, patting the cushion pile.

Parker takes a moment to consider being offended at having her cushions stolen, but curiosity gets the better of her and she just plops down between Hardison’s legs, grabbing the bowl of popcorn as she goes, and waits.

Hardison lifts her hair with sudden gentleness, drawing it over her shoulders and letting it fall down her back in a golden wave. His fingers brush against her neck. Parker shivers. Eliot is distantly aware that he’s gone perfectly still, focused with a hunter’s intensity on Hardison’s dark, graceful fingers carding through Parker’s hair.

Hardison leans back, hands on his knees, and Eliot breathes again. “Well?” Hardison looks over at Eliot, a tiny smirk of challenge on his lips. “Show me how it’s done.”

Eliot is suddenly, brutally aware of how close they are. Hardison’s couch is obscenely comfortable, which is half the reason movie nights are at Hardison’s in the first place, but it is not large. Their thighs are touching. Hardison leans away, to give Eliot access to Parker’s hair, and he’s still so close that Eliot would barely have to reach out a hand to—

Eliot ruthlessly shoves that thought down into the dark where it belongs. He dealt with this, he dealt with this years ago, and accepting Parker’s stupid bet doesn’t mean he’s forgotten the way Hardison and Parker look at each other. It just means he doesn’t mind losing for a good cause.

So he keeps his tone steady and his fingers brisk as he shows Hardison how to braid the clunky plastic beads into Parker’s hair, and if he flushes with heat when their hands brush each other, well, nobody has to know. He’s been trained to withstand eight different schools of torture. It won’t show on his face. His voice never once falters.

Parker has had no such training. Her lips have parted, and her breathing is shallow. She’s staring glassy-eyed at the TV. Hardison can’t see her face, sitting behind her, but Eliot watches her carefully, worried that they need to call this off. Parker’s not used to intimacy, to closeness that means something, and for all the three of them have spent half their movie nights literally on top of each other, this is something else. This has weight.

Eliot puts a hand on her shoulder, pressing down just enough that Parker startles and cants a glance over at him. Eliot raises his eyebrows in question, and Parker glares back: don’t you fucking dare. Eliot backs off. Hardison, frowning in concentration as he threads a wisp of Parker’s hair through a green bead, graciously pretends he didn’t see the exchange.

Hardison gets the hang of the beading fairly quickly, and Eliot shows him a few different techniques. He’s almost managed to convince himself that nothing is actually happening when Hardison says, conversationally, “You two are really bad at this.”

Eliot glowers his confusion. “At movie night? You started this, if you wanted to actually watch Alien then you shouldn’t have—”

Hardison’s smile is soft, but Eliot decides for his own safety to focus on the laughter at its edge. “No, at this.” And then he slides his hand onto Parker’s neck, caresses her cheek, and isn’t the slightest bit surprised when she gasps.

Parker whips around, and there’s hurt on her face but it dies in the glow of Hardison’s gentle, unteasing smile. Hardison pulls her up with the lightest of touches, and she goes, eyes fixed on his like salvation.

They kiss sweet and slow, and Eliot’s heart twists in his chest and he can’t breathe. He needs to leave now before he shatters in half, but if he moves then they will look at him, and he would rather never breathe again than meet their eyes right now.

Hardison breaks off the kiss, gazing at Parker with something just this side of wonder, and then he does look at Eliot. Eliot flinches. He opens his mouth to…say something, make some joke or hasty excuse and scramble out the door, but Hardison raises a hand to Eliot’s face, slides his long fingers to cup Eliot’s neck, and pulls him forward, as gently as he did Parker.

It’s a chaste kiss, no more than a soft press of lips, because Eliot is too stunned to respond and Hardison doesn’t push. It lasts a long time. A whole era of change happens in the span of that kiss, as everything Eliot thought he knew tears out of place and then settles, gingerly, into a new understanding.

Hardison pulls away, his hand still warm on the back of Eliot’s neck. His smile is pure sunshine. Eliot finds himself smiling back, helpless.

Hardison’s grin turns smug. “And that,” he says, looking between Eliot and Parker, “is how you do it. Y’all are disasters, honestly, I can’t believe two master criminals working together couldn’t manage a single real date—”

Eliot heaves a deep sigh and drags Hardison into a headlock, pinning his arms when he flails. Parker surges to her knees and starts tickling him mercilessly.

They don’t finish the movie.

#finx writes #I didn't quite get Eliot's hair in there but I hope this works anyway #leverage #leverage fic #leverage ot3

60 notes · View notes

ladyeliot · 4 years ago

Photo

Before we go (Part One)

Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

Pairing: Chris Evans x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your company has sent you to Boston to close a deal on the same day you have the most important date of your life at night in New York. Things get complicated, you can't return to New York and you have to spend the night in Boston with a complete stranger.

Warning: Fluff and a bit angst.

Word count: 3319

Notes: Sorry for my spelling and grammatical mistakes, English is not my native language, I am learning.

"Sometimes we are so focused on finding our happy ending that we don't learn to analyse the signs that life offers us".

It was a clear night in April, the city of Boston, Massachusetts had welcomed you that morning, but at that moment you needed to leave it behind. You had made an express trip from New York, your home, for business knows no days or hours, so it had fallen to you to catch an early Sunday morning train to Boston, when you had a really important Sunday night appointment. You figured it wouldn't take you too long to close the deal with the big multinational, and that you'd be in New York before ten o'clock at night. So that morning you headed for Pennsylvania Station in downtown Manhattan and 3 hours and 40 minutes later you arrived at South Station in downtown Boston.

You had never been to Boston, a magnificent city with a great history that you barely had time to enjoy. You arrived carrying your coat and your bag, you didn't need anything else, besides, the less stuff you had on you the better it would be for your mobility. When you arrived you realised that the city was preparing for a nearby holiday, as many streets were blocked off, preventing traffic from passing, which meant that your taxi driver was late arriving at the company's headquarters located in "East Boston".

The meetings went on forever, your potential shareholders were not entirely sure about the future that your company could offer them, and so the hours passed incessantly without reaching any concrete agreement. The constant interruptions from your boss wanting to know the situation were not very helpful either, and the bad mood that was taking over your body, as it was your day off and therefore you shouldn't be there, was a little bump in the road.

You had set yourself a time limit, but you knew you could not return to New York City without signing that agreement or you would be removed from your position at the company. Sometimes you begged for that reinstatement, because the position of head of external relations made your life more bitter than happy. This was evident when your partner of five years, Michael, decided to give up on your relationship, you were barely home and you discovered that he had been having several encounters with a former colleague at work, finally when you told him you knew, your partner opted to leave home and take a job in Los Angeles.

At first you thought that maybe it was for the best, that you should focus on your work projects, for which you had been fighting so hard, but eventually you realised that you were really in love with him, although at no time did you justify his cheating behind your back. Your ex-partner came to you two months later regretting his behaviour and asking for a second chance, at first you were reluctant, but finally you agreed to have dinner with him, he was returning to New York for a work trip, because you loved him. The dinner was that night, the Sunday night you had to travel to Boston, Michael had been in New York for a week, but you had barely seen each other, and first thing Sunday morning he returns to Los Angeles, so you only had that opportunity to find out if it was really worth it to resume something that had been lost.

The contract was signed at exactly 9:20pm, you had to call Michael, and inform him that you were not going to make it to the dinner, but that you would go to his hotel first thing in the morning to have breakfast with him before he got on the plane, he begged you to go straight to his hotel when you arrived, whatever time it was, you finally agreed.

You were inside a taxi, the last train leaving for New York was at 9:50pm, but as usual the universe was against you. The streets had become increasingly busy, the driver informed you that the following day was Patriot's Day, an annual event commemorating the battles of Lexington and Concord, and the Battle of Menotomy, the first battles of the American Revolutionary War. You tuned out completely as I explained the history of the holiday, just staring out the window praying that you would be on time to catch that train.

"How far is it from here to South Station?" you asked when the car could barely move because of the traffic jam.

"Fifteen minutes if you walk fast and shortcut down this avenue," he commented.

Without a second thought, you offered him the fifty-dollar note you had in your hand at the ready and dashed out of the car, dodging the other cars that were crowded together at the intersection. Your negative orienteering experiences were alleviated by the city's good signage that constantly pointed you in the direction of the South Boston station. Your mind was focused on getting there before 9:50pm when the last train was leaving, it was now 9:30pm and if you were informed by the conductor that if you were going at a brisk pace you could be there in 15 minutes, that is 9:45pm.

You ran trying to dodge the crowd, constantly uttering "excuse me" and keeping a proper rhythm in your breathing so as not to choke before your time, you could tell it had been months since you had been out for exercise as you had to stop twice to catch your breath. But what took your breath away the most was when you discovered that you were carrying too little weight. You stopped dead in your tracks and looked at your arms, your hands, your bag was gone. You looked around, quickly thought about whether you might have lost it running, but realised that you had actually run so fast out of the taxi that you had completely forgotten to take your bag.

Panic invaded every limb of your body, but as you reached into your coat pockets and found the ticket that would take you back to New York you thought that was all you really needed, everything inside your bag might be replaceable in the future. You continued on your way to the station, in a few minutes you could see the entrance at the bottom of Federal Street. You quickened your pace across the square, as you tried to enter you bumped into people who were trying to exit the building slowing you down. You entered the hall a little disoriented and ran towards the platforms where the trains were leaving, you ran down the stairs, but your eyes discovered something that your mind did not want to think about, they saw how the rear lights of the last train were lost in the darkness of the night.

Your body stood still for a few moments, while your consciousness didn't understand what had just happened, or rather didn't want to understand it. In your right hand waved the ticket to New York, your only possession at the moment. You stood to one side of the stairs, so that the last two people could walk up to the station hall, while you stood for a few minutes staring at the train tracks.

You decided that all was not lost, there would be more train or even bus stations that could take you to New York that night. You retraced your steps, finding that the shops in the hall were closing, but the information window was still open. You waited until he had finished serving a customer and bowed to the gentleman.

"Excuse me, I need to go to New York tonight," you said, showing him the ticket, being as calm as possible.

"I'm sorry, but the last train had just left," he said without so much as a glance at you, counting the cash register.

"I know, I know, but I need to get to New York tonight," you insisted again. "I suppose there's another train station in the city, or even a bus station."

"I'm sorry, but the last transport to New York City is the Northeast Regional that just left this station right now," he finally laid his eyes on you, interlacing his fingers. "But first thing tomorrow morning, you'll have trains available again so you can go to New York.

"First thing tomorrow morning?" you asked a little hopefully.

"At 6:05am the first train leaves for Pennsylvania Station," he reported, staring at his electronic screen.

"I can't wait until 6:00 am tomorrow," you said, raising your tone a little. "Do you think a taxi driver would be willing to take me to New York?

"You can try," he said with a shrug. "But they're not licensed to drive outside the state of Massachusetts."

"Okay..." you said with a blank stare. "Excuse me, one last thing, if I forgot my purse in a taxi, where can I go to pick it up?"

"If he is an honest person he will have taken it to Boston police headquarters to be handed over to the Hackney lost property division," he informed you, offering me a small card. "Call here.

"Alright, thank you." Your voice sounded utterly depressed.

With a tremendous disappointment inside you, you definitely accepted his words and did not insist any more, you understood, the last means of transport connecting the Boston and New York line had left, there was no more. You took a breath nodding and realising that there was a person behind you who wanted to ask a question, you opted to head towards the nearest seats to think. You were in a completely unfamiliar city, you had to spend the night there and you had barely a coat and a useless train ticket until the next morning. Even though your thoughts were racing, trying to find a solution, you couldn't find one, there were too many negative feelings that were making you despair.

"Are you all right?" the voice came from a shadow that covered the light of the station's harsh floodlights.

You didn't answer him, just stared at him and nodded slowly, but at that very moment a station cleaner approached you.

"I'm sorry but we are closing," he reported.

"Closing?" you asked a little confused.

"The station closes from 10pm until 5am," he commented, walking away again.

That was another inconvenience your head didn't count on, you had thought that since you had to wait for a new train to leave, you could spend the night there, since you had nowhere else to go, nor money or identification that could allow you to do so. You nodded to yourself and totally disoriented you got up from your seat and headed towards the main exit of the building, you barely noticed what was going on around you, you didn't even realise how the boy who had asked you if you were alright had followed you and stood next to you.

"Do you want to share a taxi?" he asked, which brought you out of your thoughts for a moment.

"Excuse me?" you had barely heard his words.

"I was saying do you want us to share a taxi," he repeated again showing kind features on his face.

"No, I'm fine," you said and looked around again for solutions.

The young man was not giving up after your refusals, so he finally closed the taxi door and approached you again, hoping that you would finally accept the help he wanted to offer.

"Really?" he insisted, "Because it didn't look like it in there."

"I'm fine," you frowned, beginning to feel uncomfortable at his intrusion, you didn't need anyone to help you. "Really."

"Alright," he held up his hands and headed towards the taxi again. "Hey buddy! Do you think you could get this lady closer to New York?"

His words fully captured your attention, you raised your face and turned it towards the man who was talking to the driver through a rolled down window.

"To New York City?!" exclaimed the driver somewhat taken aback by your words.

"Yes!" you exclaimed running towards the rolled down window. "Specifically to Midtown Manhattan, the corner of Sixth Avenue and Bryant Park."

"Midtown Manhattan, Sixth Avenue and Bryant Park," repeated the young man who was trying to help you.

"That would be an all-night drive," declared the taxi driver hesitantly. "Besides, I can't drive in another state, they might take away my license..."

"I'll pay whatever it takes if you can get me back to New York by six in the morning," you begged with a thread of hope in your gut.

"It must be 220 miles one way," he said, doing the math. "All told, about 440, counting gas and the risk that my license could be revoked..."

"Whatever," you insisted again. "I'll pay you anything."

"All right," nodded the man, gesturing for you to get into the taxi. "We'll leave it at $1,200."

"Thank you very much, I'll pay you as soon as we get there," you informed humbly before getting into the car, which caused the situation to take an unexpected turn.

"Wait, I need half the money up front," the taxi driver began. "Otherwise we won't get out of this block."

"The truth is..." you began as your hopes dwindled.

"It's on me," said the young man next to you quickly, which caused you to half-open your lips and look at him in complete bewilderment. "You'll pay me back."

"Wait," you said stopping his hands before he pulled out his credit card. How do you know I'll pay you back, and why are you doing this?"

"I guess I'm trying to do my good deed for the day," a smile appeared on his face, which confused you even more if that was possible. "Besides, do you have another option?"

The boy offered his credit card to the taxi driver, and you were stunned when you realised that the man was paying 600 dollars to a complete stranger to travel to New York. Who the hell does that these days? Who was that guy?

"This card is expired," the driver reported, handing the card back to him through the window of the car.

"Expired?" the boy looked at it. "Shit, it expired last week. Don't worry, I've got another one."

The blue-eyed young man looked at you and smiled a sheepish smile, you had hardly smiled all day.

"It's not active," the taxi driver reported again, handing back the card.

"Shit..." the young man looked at her, " Alright, let me get my phone out and... fuck, no battery."

"Really?!" you exclaimed at the situation before your eyes. "Is there anything working in your life?"

That question you blurted out without thinking that the most unfortunate person at that moment was you, you even surpassed what had just happened to that boy. Finally the taxi driver, seeing the situation, decided to roll up his window and leave instead of wasting his time with you.

" Oh shit!" you exclaimed, holding your hands to your head as you realised that your hopes were lost.

You were the same as you were, well worse, because now you had one more disappointment inside you. You opted that the best decision was to reap your own destiny, alone, so you returned to your original position and stood looking at the car traffic at that wide intersection in the city of Boston, wondering what to do. Surely you would find another taxi driver who would decide to take you to New York, even if you didn't pay him on the spot.

"Well," said the young man approaching you again. "What do you feel like doing?"

You narrowed your eyes, not understanding why he was trying to help you, nor the need he had to spend more time with you. What was clear to you was that he was not helping.

"Do you really have nothing better to do tonight?" you asked him somewhat quizzically, with an edge to your tone.

"Wow," he arched his eyebrows in a smirk. "Is that how you treat someone who's trying to help you?"

"Help me?" you laughed, shoving your hands into your coat. "Well, I guess it's the thought that counts."

"Yeah... even if my cards don't work and I have no battery in my mobile, at least I'm at my destination," he said with irony, provoking a shudder inside you. "Come on, what do you want to do, do you want to go to a hotel?" you frowned at his words to which he laughed as he contemplated your reaction. "Oh no, I mean spend the night, correction, for you to spend the night... Alright, leave it."

"I'm not going to sit idle in a hotel," you said gruffly. "I need to get to New York before dawn."

" Alright..."

You were both silent for a while, trying to avoid thinking about Michael, how he would be waiting all night for you to come and you probably wouldn't even get there before he left for Los Angeles. But in trying not to remember your situation, you realised how rude you had been to this young man, who only seemed to be kind to you and whose name you barely knew.

"I'm sorry," you said, turning to him and nodding.

"No problem," he said smiling at you and held out his hand to you. "I'm Chris, by the way."

You nodded looking at his hand, after all he was a complete stranger and somewhat peculiar, so you opted to offer a fake name.

"Adriana," you finally shook his hand.

"Nice name," he said, putting on his red sox cap, at which point you realised that his features were somewhat familiar. "I really love the night in Boston, so I could stay here forever, but I'm pretty hungry after the trip. I know you need to get to New York, but standing here you won't be able to do much, do you feel like joining me for a bite to eat? We can figure something out while we eat."

Those words reminded you that you hadn't had a bite to eat since lunchtime, and your stomach felt resentful, it was begging for some food to be shoved in, so that plan sounded really good. On the other hand, you weren't receptive to the idea of leaving the place with a complete stranger, and you didn't have any money on you.

"I don't have any money," you reminded him. "And you don't look like you do either."

"Just because I don't have six hundred dollars on me doesn't mean I don't have money on me so we can afford to eat something," he said, flashing his sweet smile again. "Come on. I know just the place on Beacon Hill. It's not too far from here."

You took a full breath, surrendering to her idea and nodded, if you had to stay awake until six in the morning, at least you'd have a full stomach. So you started to walk to your left.

"Hey! Where are you going?" he asked hanging up his backpack again.

"Beacon Hill?" you pointed to your left.

"Beacon Hill," he said, pulling his hand out of his pocket and pointing to the opposite side.

You accepted your confusion and misdirection and with a smile you nodded and stood next to him.

"Wow, you can smile," he exclaimed. "It could be a nice night after all."

to be continued . . .

Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

Taglist Open (DM)

MAIN MASTERLIST

82 notes · View notes

fromthedeskofelizabeththird · 4 years ago

Text

Habanero

You're a good girl, well behaved.

Absolutely not the type to rail random guys in nightclubs.

Until you are.

Fandom: BNHA

Pairing: Aizawa x Reader, Present Mic x Reader, a sprinkling of Erasermic and eventual polyamorous Erasermic x Reader

Rating: Mature, not smutty but it is a bit gory

Trigger Warnings: Blood and Gore, descriptions of physical violence, nothing worse than on the show, but it’s there all the same. Also some Shirakumo related spoilers.

AO3: Here | Want to support me? I have a Kofi

Chapter: 13/16 (all chapters)

16-ISH YEARS AGO

“This is a terrible idea, just so you know.”

Shouta hugged his arms around his body, turning to look at the path behind him. His eyes were still growing accustomed to the dark and he had been almost entirely reliant on Shirakumo and Hizashi to guide him through the undergrowth, along a path tucked away by several layers of branches.

He had no idea where they were going, only that it was long after curfew.

“You worry too much,” said Hizashi. “Trust me, it’ll be worth it!”

Shouta pursed his lips together, more than a little conscious of how new he was to class 1-A. More specifically, how any wrong move could realistically end in him being returned to general studies.

He hadn’t wanted to go to the summer training camp, but ultimately the pros far outweighed the cons. Sure, he’d have to eat bad curry and share a room with students he barely knew, but missing out on the opportunity to master his quirk wasn’t something to be taken lightly. His presence there alone was a test, unofficially or not.

He had been exhausted when he finally rested his head, only to spend hours staring at the ceiling. In a matter of hours, he would have to push himself harder than ever and that knowledge alone made him nervous. He hadn’t been able to sleep the night before either, instead stealing glances at the packed bag by his bedroom door. The more he tried to sleep, the more nervous he got, a vicious cycle he knew all too well.

He was still awake at light’s out; still awake when the majority of the other guys tucked themselves into bed and began to snore. He was still awake when Shirakumo and Yamada got up to leave.

He knew them from class, of course. If he had to label them anything, and was loath to do so, they were the closest thing he had to friends on the hero course. Yamada had offered up one of his earphones on the bus ride over to show him the song he’d been obsessed with, while Shirakumo frowned into the other. Shirakumo had nudged Shouta with a wink before dropping so many chilli flakes into the curry that it shone an angry shade of red. Shouta had no idea what his ultimate goal had been, only that the two members of class 1-A who finished their dinner did it on a dare.

Shouta knew they were up to no good the second he saw them tiptoeing across the room, dodging the arms and legs of their sleeping classmates. Whatever they were up to would almost certainly get him into trouble if caught. Even so, he followed them when they motioned for him to.

“We found it earlier,” said Shirakumo, crouching down beside a fallen tree and linking his hands to give Yamada a boost over the top.

Yamada whined as he climbed up and slid down onto the other side, far from pleased at having to touch the tree bark in so little light. Shirakumo turned to him and held out his hands, leaving Shouta grateful for the darkness. In this light, no one could see him blush.

He set his foot down into Shirakumo’s hands and put a hand on his shoulder for balance. He took a deep breath as Shirakumo boosted him, planting both hands down on the damp bark and pulling himself up. He was still much slower than they were, regardless of how long he spent running laps or doing pull ups. He landed on the other side without any sort of grace, stumbling on his ankle and grazing his hands across the floor. In any other setting it would have hurt, but the grass was soft and incredibly forgiving.

“Man,” said Yamada, who was still checking himself for bugs, “I’m going to itch for a week.”

“You’ll be fine,” said Shirakumo, landing softly. “C’mon, it’s this way!”

He raced on ahead, no longer concerned about waking up any of the professors. Shouta turned to Yamada, who grinned back and reached for his hand.

“C’mon!”

He squeezed tightly and followed suit, Shouta trailing behind and staring at their linked hands. It was so intimate and yet so casual and he didn’t know what to do.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to think about it for long, as they reached a gap in the trees and Yamada let him go. Shouta stumbled to a stop, jaw dropping as he took in their new surroundings.

They had arrived at the base of a waterfall, its waters twinkling in a near perfect imitation of the stars overhead. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but it definitely wasn’t this.

Yamada and Shirakumo weren’t nearly as overwhelmed as he was, already in the process of settling down on the grass. Shouta followed suit, wishing he had a dozen or more heads just to take in every detail.

“It’s good, right?!” Shirakumo said as he and Yamada flopped back into the grass.

Shouta laid back far more slowly, taking care to listen to the whisper of the water and cool night breeze. He made sure to smell the flowers that crowned their heads.

“I…” he said, closing his eyes.

He wanted to say it was beautiful, that he was happy they had shared this secret with him.

He wanted to say how grateful he was to have such welcoming classmates who hadn’t hesitated to welcome him into their class.

In the end, though, he merely shrugged.

“It’s okay.”

~~~~

PRESENT

“What do you mean you can’t come? I need you to chaperone the girls.”

“Eraser, be more sympathetic,” wailed Nemuri. “I’ve never had such bad cramps before! I feel like I’ve swallowed a chainsaw.”

Shouta leaned against the bus, rubbing his temples and toeing the gravel.

He had hated summer training camps as a teenager and he definitely hated them now.

Shouta was sick of planning the summer camp. He was tired of so much as hearing about it. It was necessary, he knew that, but this one seemed to have been doomed from the beginning.

The last thing he needed was to have to replace a chaperone at the last minute, especially so early on into summer vacation.

“You’ll be fine,” he said. “Just take an aspirin.”

“I don't have any!”

“I do. Now hurry up, we’re leaving soon.”

He hung up before she could protest, only for his phone to start ringing again almost immediately.

“I already organised a replacement,” said Nemuri the moment he picked up. “A little last minute, but she’s definitely qualified!”

“What are you tal-“

He never got the chance to reply, for you strolled around the corner, rucksack strapped to your back and sunglasses perched on top of your head. You waved the moment you saw him and came rushing over, completely oblivious to the conflict playing out in front of you.

“I’ll call you back,” he said, hanging up on Nemuri for a second time.

She had a point and he knew it. You were the only member of the faculty who didn’t have lessons to plan and papers to grade. Even so, it made him nervous and he told himself it had nothing at all to do with the cutoffs you had on.

“(Name),” he said, “you…”

“Did you speak to Nemuri? Is she okay?”

Shouta slipped his phone back into his pocket, wondering exactly how much she had told you.

“She’ll be fine,” he said. “I’m sorry to put you out like this.”

“No, no,” you said, waving away his concerns, “I was already packed for Yamanashi. It’s not putting me out at all!”

It was just like you and he sighed, cursing Nemuri. He wanted to tell you to go home, but he didn’t know who else he could call in on such short notice and, given the current climate, it was important to keep as few people in the know about where you were going as humanly possible. Even if he called Recovery Girl or Thirteen, it was unlikely either of them would be packed and ready on time and he didn’t like the idea of having them arrive at the camp later, putting more vehicles on the road for the League of Villains to follow.

“We’re taking separate routes,” he said, against his better judgement. “You should travel with 1-B. They’re taking the shorter path.”

He pointed out the second bus, where Vlad was checking over his student rosters.

“Okay,” you said with a wide smile, “I’ll go and tell him about the change of plans.”

He watched as you left, all but bouncing on your heels. He knew you hadn’t experienced much close contact with heroes until recently and your excitement was only natural. Even so, he had a bad feeling about bringing you along, one that he wouldn’t put his finger on until it was too late.

~~~~

Your friends had laughed at you for packing your bags so early. The trip to Yamanashi was weeks away and you had more free time than usual thanks to summer break. Nemuri’s early morning phone call was satisfying in more ways than one. You didn’t need to worry about buying bug spray or picking out walking shoes. All you had to do was throw on some clothes and grab your bag on the way out.

You spent the bus ride turning the pages of a suspense novel, so absorbed in the action that you barely noticed where you were going or how much time had passed. You were almost a quarter of the way through when the bus finally came to a stop and the students pushed their faces to the windows.

“Everyone, calm down,” said Vlad, “back in your seats. You’ll have plenty of time to explore later.”

They groaned, but obeyed, prompting you to giggle and slip a bookmark between the pages of your novel. You were used to dealing with the chaos of 1-A. It was almost a relief to spend time with 1-B.

You and Vlad were the first ones off the bus and you gazed in awe at your forest surroundings. There were trees and mountains as far as the eye could see, wild and unapologetically untamed. You turned on the spot, wishing you could see everything all at once, only to find yourself on the receiving end of a bone breaking handshake.

“Good morning, good morning,” said the stranger. “Welcome to The Beast’s Forest.”

You took in the stranger’s enormous form; his broad shoulders and kitten paw gloves.

“I...um...thank you…”

“The Wild Wild Pussycats are helping us out with the training camp this year,” said Vlad, taking a moment to look away as the students filed off the bus. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

“It’s our pleasure,” said the stranger. “I’m Tiger and this is Ragdoll!”

He gestured to the woman beside him, who had on a matching set of kitten paw gloves.

“Pleased to meet you,” she cried out, hopping on the spot. “We’re so happy you chose to come here and train with us!”

“We’ll show you to your rooms,” followed up Tiger.

“1-B,” said Vlad, turning to the students, who by then had started to huddle round you. “Grab your things and get ready to unpack. We have a lot to do today, so no goofing off!”

~~~~

After everyone had unpacked, Vlad and Ragdoll left to take the students on a short hike. You stayed behind to help Tiger prepare dinner, as well as to help the girls from 1-A unpack and settle in once they finally arrived.

By all accounts it didn’t make sense. 1-A had set off before you, yet still hadn’t arrived. You thought about it as you washed and peeled vegetables, wondering if Shouta had done so deliberately as part of a training exercise.

They trailed out of the forest and through the doors at sundown, filthy, exhausted and starving.

“What on earth happened?” you asked, guiding them to the dorms while Pixie Bob and Mandalay finished up the food.

You didn’t get much of an answer, just whimpers of despair.

You watched as they trailed into their room, dragging their legs and clutching their hands over their stomachs, wondering what kinds of tortures they had endured in the forest.

As expected of UA , you considered. This isn’t even day one.

~~~~~~~

After dinner, the students took a dip in the hot springs and retired to bed, exhausted from the day’s events and anticipating an early start. You checked in on them before leaving the dorms, meaning to explore the grounds a little. You weren’t sure how much time you would have to yourself once the training actually started and wanted to make the most of it.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had taken a break outside of the city. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been away from the city at all. Akira had always promised that one day you would take a week away in a cabin somewhere, though he had always been too busy for one reason or another to follow through. You had told yourself you thrived in the city, but the peaceful night air was proof enough of how wrong you had been.

The air was clean here; the silence broken only by the cry of cicadas in the distance. You had never seen the stars so clearly before and, now that they glimmered above you, you never wanted to stop looking at them.

At that moment, all you could think about was Hizashi. You remembered how it had felt to explore Musutafu with his hand in yours, so caught up in the beauty of your surroundings that you forgot how it felt to be sad.

What movie are we in?

You pulled your phone from your pocket and scrolled through your own songs as you walked, following the dirt path to an exposed area of grass framed by trees. You gave each tree an appraising look, trying to figure out which one would give you the best view, only to flop down in the middle and gaze up at the sky. You had never seen such a clear view of the summer triangle before: Orihime and Hikoboshi reunited in the stars.

Their story had always been one of your favourites, which proved fortunate, as it was your mother’s favourite too. She liked to sit you and your brother down and recite the story of the beautiful princess and her humble lover as a cautionary tale, meant to remind you of the importance of contributing to society, as opposed to childish fleets of fancy. Your brother, ever the dutiful son, had nodded along to her words and condemned the lovers for their passion, but you had always been something of a romantic. You often slipped up and said how happy you were that the lovers were reunited, to which your mother would pinch your cheeks. She liked to remind you that they would not have been separated in the first place if they hadn’t been selfish, nor would they have been reunited without the generosity of Orihime’s father.

Your mother was the only person you had ever met who spent Tanabata wishing for a rainstorm.

You hadn’t talked to either of your parents for well over a year. You hadn’t told them about the break up, nor mentioned your change in career. You weren’t naive enough to think they didn’t know. Your brother was still the obedient one and had texted you on the night of the USJ incident.

You wondered what your mother would say if she saw you now; if she knew Akira proposed to you and you had turned him down. She would probably faint if she knew you had slept with two of your coworkers, one of which had been a complete stranger at the time.

You gazed up at the sky and the summer triangle, finally understanding that you had always wished for Orihime’s happiness because you saw yourself in her. Perhaps your mother did too and that was why she pinched your cheeks so much.

You reached up to touch your own cheek and smiled, thinking of Hizashi and Shouta.

Hizashi was just as much of a romantic as you were and Shouta’s passions ran deeper than you’d ever presume to understand.

You couldn’t choose between them and never wanted to.

You were ready to be selfish and chase the stars.

~~~~

You weren’t the only one watching the stars that night.

Shouta perched in the branches of a tall tree several feet away, hiding in the summer foliage and watching the dorms for any signs of students breaking curfew. The irony wasn’t lost on him.

He had reached for his capture weapon the moment he heard the front door, only to loosen his grip when he saw who was coming.

He had watched you lay down in the grass to watch the stars; had watched you reach out to touch your cheek. He was reminded of a different summer camp at a different time; a time when he too laid his head in the grass to look up at the sky.

He lifted his hand and examined it in the moonlight. This was the hand that Hizashi had taken all of that time ago and, even though the skin had hardened and formed calluses, still tingled at the memory. He could jump fallen trees faster than Hizashi now; could navigate the dark without even trying. Even so, he still thought of hands in his and didn’t know what to do.

He wanted to go back to the waterfall from all those summers ago; wanted to link his hand in Hizashi’s again and lay back to watch the stars with your lap for a pillow.

He wanted to tell you that you were beautiful; that if anyone was to make him feel so illogical, he was glad it was you.

The more things changed, though, the more they stayed the same. He touched his fingers to his lips, tracing the spaces you had kissed even as you got back up to your feet and headed to the dorms, an expression of determination on your face.

He wanted to go after you, but his legs wouldn’t move.

He wanted to whisper the truth of his complicated feelings in your ear, but couldn’t say a word.

He was taller and stronger, yet still no different to the boy from all of those years ago. Now, just like then, he told himself that you were better off not knowing; that one day he would be brave enough to say his feelings out loud, but it wasn’t this one.

He had no idea how far the parallels ran. Now, just like then, he was running out of time.

~~~~~~

On a day to day basis, Vlad didn’t spend too much time with Aizawa or the students of 1-A. He definitely didn’t spend much time with you . 1-B hadn’t experienced as many traumas as 1-A. The only motivation he might have had to stop by your office unexpectedly was to make conversation, though you always seemed to be busy whenever he passed. When you weren’t chatting with students or rearranging the notice board outside of your office, you were chatting with Kayama and Yamada and sometimes even Aizawa.

He had been surprised when you came over to him the previous morning, sheepishly admitting that you had come to join them in Midnight’s stead, but he hadn’t questioned it.

The night before, though, he had definitely started to question some things.

He had drifted out of sleep to the sound of a soft tapping outside of his bedroom door. It was too faint to be his own door, though the idea that it might be a student bothered him. He got up and opened his own door by a sliver and peered out into the darkness.

Aizawa’s room was a little further down the corridor and you were standing in front of it, softly tapping at the wood and shifting on the spot.

“Everything okay?” he had asked, prompting you to jump in surprise.

“I...I um,” you had said, glancing from him to Aizawa’s door. “Everything’s fine, I just needed to…”

You had waved almost frantically, a blush peppering your cheeks.

“It’s nothing...I’m sorry I disturbed you!”

He had watched you scurry out of the men’s dorms, chancing glances over your shoulder at him and shooting awkward smiles.

It was strange to say the least, and he wondered about it long into the night. It still played on his mind as he took a seat at the breakfast table. The students were still in the process of getting up and only you, Aizawa and Vlad himself were around, helping yourselves to bowls of rice and cups of coffee. Vlad picked at his own food, still curious about the night before. He watched as you shot second and third glances at Aizawa, visibly gathering your nerves. He saw you get to your feet the second Aizawa did and follow him to the buffet table. He listened in as you began to speak in nervous whispers.

“Shouta,” you whispered, glancing over your shoulder, “I need to talk to you.”

“You’re talking to me now.”

“I mean...I need to talk to you... alone .”

Vlad dropped his gaze as you looked in his direction and shovelled food into his mouth to disguise the fact that he had been eavesdropping.

“Are you sick?”

“No.”

“Are the students okay?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” said Aizawa, lowering his cup. “We can talk about it later.”

“But…”

“Later.”

Aizawa left you at the breakfast buffet with no further room for argument, slipping back down into his seat on Vlad’s left as if nothing had happened. You followed, flopping down into your own seat on Vlad’s right, all three of you eating in silence. Vlad’s eyes darted from his left to his right, as intrigued by this new development as he was annoyed.

~~~~~

“It’s okay, deep breaths, deep breaths!”

You patted Uraraka on the back, holding her hair back from her face as she wretched. She clasped her hands over her mouth, self conscious about throwing up in front of her classmates, but too wobbly on her feet to reach the portable toilet nearby.

“Come on,” you said, easing her arm over your shoulders and guiding her to her feet. “Slow steps.”

You guided her to the toilet, only letting go as she shut the door behind her and taking the chance to look around at your surroundings. The sun was up and training well underway. 1-A and 1-B had been assigned individual training exercises to improve their quirks and the result was organised chaos.

You didn’t have any sort of combat training, so settled for weaving your way through the crowds, offering up sips of water, pats to the back and encouraging words. It was something, at least, and gave you ample opportunities to try and get Shouta alone.

You had decided to tell him everything, from your night with Hizashi to your realisations about yourself and your own feelings. You had to be honest with him, even if it meant being rejected. You knew he had some kind of feelings for you. You knew that he wanted you on some level. You needed him to see your side of things, though so far had been unsuccessful. Every time you got closer, he found somewhere else to be.

It was disheartening, to say the least. You wondered if telling him the truth was a mistake, though shrugged off the idea almost immediately. If you never told him the truth, you’d never know his reaction.

You knew that the moment you returned home, back to your house and regular job, you would lose all of your confidence. You’d not only go back to your regular bed, but your regular demons as well.

You thought you knew better than anyone that you were running out of time and the clock was ticking, but had no idea that the end was much sooner than you thought.

You thought you had until the end of the week.

In reality, you had about 36 hours.

35:48:32

~~~~

23:59:47

“So what’s the story with you and Eraserhead?”

Your eyes bulged.

“W-what do you mean?”

You switched off the showerhead and turned back towards the onsen, realising too late that you were on the receiving end of not one but three sets of eyes.

You had tried to get Shouta’s attention again at dinner, but he had announced plans for extra lessons with the underperformers in his class. Whatever it was you had to say to him could wait until later.

You had been more than a little depressed at this development, though nowhere near as upset as Kaminari and Ashido, both of whom had begged for you to rescue them.

You must have looked unhappy as you stepped outside, for you were almost immediately jumped by Pixie Bob, Ragdoll and Mandalay, who invited you to take a soak in the hot springs with them. Maybe it was the prospect of girl talk or the fact that they reminded you so much of your own trio of girlfriends, but you took them up on it.

You hadn't expected them to ask your love life so directly.

“I...I...uh…haha, Eraserhead? Eraserhead and me?”

They grinned at that and you didn’t blame them. In their position you wouldn’t have been convinced either.

You sighed, setting aside the showerhead and getting to your feet.

“We had sex,” you said, sinking into the water. “Twice.”

“I knew it,” said Pixie Bob, nudging Mandalay. “See? I told you. I always know when people are sleeping together.”

“Oh, we’re not sleeping together anym-“

“But you’d like to?!” Ragdoll asked, tilting her head to one side.

“I…I…”

“It’s like a sixth sense,” Pixie Bob continued, seeming not to notice. “A second quirk, if you will.”

“ Sure going to come in handy during a rescue mission,” sighed Mandalay.

“Don’t be so dismissive! We could...I could,” Pixie Bob scratched her chin until inspiration struck. “If someone had heavy blood loss, I could ask their lover for their blood type!”

“What kind of guys have you been hooking up with? Vampires?”

Pixie Bob looked offended at the very idea, though Ragdoll only smiled.

“Does Eraserhead know your blood type, (Name)?” she asked, returning you to the center of attention.

“Honestly? Probably.”

It wouldn’t surprise you, all things considered. You were still convinced he’d read your staff dossier during your first few weeks at UA.

“See,” said Pixie Bob. “Sixth sense. Incredibly useful.”

Mandalay sighed and rubbed her temples.

“You must think we’re crazy.”

“I work for UA,” you laughed, “I can handle crazy.”

“I’m sure you can,” said Pixie Bob, with a suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows that made Mandalay groan. “Seriously, though, what’s the story with you two? How’d you end up... knowing each other’s blood types?”

You weighed up the pros and cons of telling them, before ultimately throwing caution to the wind. You hadn’t even gotten around to telling your friends the full story, much less about your intentions to confess to Shouta. Hizashi and Nemuri didn’t know about the night at Ego ; it had always seemed inappropriate to tell them.

It was a relief to finally have the whole story off your chest and, for the first time since your arrival, all three of the Pussycats were silent, all pondering the same thing.

It was Mandalay who spoke first.

“We’ll help.”

“H-huh?!”

“Yes,” said Ragdoll, giggling with glee. “We’ll take care of everything. ”

To their credit, they really did have everything worked out.

The following evening, once training was complete, they planned to host a ghost walk, pitting class A against class B. While the walk took place, the teachers would host remedial classes with their underperforming students, just as they were doing now.

Unbeknownst to any of the students, however, they also planned to have a barbecue once the ghost walk was finished. Both Vlad and Shouta had agreed to take a break from the remedial classes around that time in the hopes of restoring the morale of the underperformers, giving them at least one good memory of summer camp.

While the students gathered around the campfire, the Pussycats would send you and Shouta back into the woods to double check all of them had returned. It was the perfect opportunity to have a private conversation and you could hardly wait.

You returned to your room on a high, both so anxious and excited that you could barely concentrate on your book.

Your fingers trembled. You wondered what you would say. You had originally planned to make it up as you went along, but having a deadline gave you more of an incentive to think it through.

You rested your head against your pillows and laid your book down on your chest.

You had a feeling the next day was going to be eventful, though had no idea how right you really were.

~~~~

17:30:24

Remedial classes went about as well as was to be expected. By the time he escorted them back to the dorms, they were in varying states of despair.

“Don’t look so sad,” he said, “it takes dedication to be heroes. If you fall apart at every hurdle, your career won’t last very long.”

He dropped Mina off at the girls’ dorms last of all, waiting for her to close the door behind her before continuing up the corridor and back out towards the entrance. He paused midway, noticing that your bedroom door was open by a sliver and the light still on.

He remembered what you had said to him at breakfast; how nervous you had been. He felt a little guilty for keeping his distance, but had a feeling whatever it was you had to say to him was something that would require one hundred percent of his attention and time, which at that moment he was unable to give.

He knocked at your door before stepping inside, a soft smile creeping across his face at what greeted him. You had fallen asleep reading, a book resting over your face and cell phone in your hand. He could hear you snoring underneath it and took a couple of silent steps forward, just until he was close enough to pick up the front and back covers between his thumb and forefingers and peel it off your face. He slipped your bookmark between the pages and rested the book down on your bedside table, finally reaching across to try and slip the phone out from your hand.

You had starfished your body across the bed and it wasn’t difficult to loosen your grip on the phone. For one nerve wracking second, Shouta thought he’d woken you, for you crumpled up your face and rolled over onto your side to face him, murmuring in your sleep.

“...fair,” you said. “Sh...fair.”

He looked down at the hand closest to him, palm upwards across the bed. His own fingers twitched at the sight. He remembered how it had felt to hold your hand at Ego ; how you had trembled as you followed him through the club. At the time he had dismissed it as excitement, but now that he knew you better he understood it was nerves.

“Shouta,” you murmured, eyes closed and words slurred from sleep.

“I’m here,” he said, putting your phone down on top of your book.

“Sh…” you said again. “...un.”

He pulled the blanket across your body and you snuggled into it, a peaceful smile breaking out across your face. He wanted so badly to wake you up, but couldn't bring himself to. He knew he’d regret it later, though had no idea how much.

“Sleep tight,” he said, stepping back out of your room and switching off the light.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked back towards the entrance, oblivious to the fact that he was being watched.

Mina Ashido had gone into the washroom to brush her teeth and comb her hair and noticed your open door on the way back. Initially she had wandered over to wish you goodnight, but froze on the spot when she saw Aizawa tucking you in.

She clasped her hands over her mouth as he walked out of the door, pressing herself against the corner of the wall to remain out of sight. She was curious, yes, but not so curious that she was willing to risk even more remedial classes.

She rushed into the girls’ dorm room the moment he was gone and slammed the door shut behind her.

“Everyone,” she hissed, as the others groaned and rubbed their eyes, far from impressed at the early morning interruption. “Wake up! You’re not going to believe this!”

~~~~~~

14:42:45

“I don’t believe you.”

“I know what I saw!”

News of your late night interlude with Aizawa was the talk of the 1-A breakfast table, even if everyone was divided. While Aizawa’s presence in your room definitely raised questions, there was no evidence it had been anything other than innocent. Mina had seen him tucking you into bed and nothing more, leaving the events of that night up to personal interpretation, of which there were many.

“I’m telling you,” said Mina, “he was smiling . It was weird.”

“She could have told him a really good joke,” shrugged Kaminari.

“In her sleep ?”

“Remember that time I told Professor Aizawa a knock knock joke?” Sero said, grimly. “He made me do laps.”

“It was a pretty bad joke,” chuckled Tsuyu.

“You’re all wrong,” said Hagakure. “She’s dating Present Mic!”

“Present Mic?” said Uraraka, sounding more than a little confused.

“They do seem to get along well on his radio show,” said Deku. “That doesn’t mean they’re a couple, though.”

“Maybe she’s dating both of them,” shrugged Kirishima, to which everyone began to chatter in uproar.

“In any case,” said Iida, bellowing over everyone as he lowered his orange juice, “it’s inappropriate to speculate on the private lives of our teachers.”

“But that’s what makes it fun ,” said Mina, who was more than a little put out that people still didn’t believe her.

She glanced over at the teacher’s table, where you and the Pussycats were deep in discussion and Aizawa and Vlad compared notes on their lesson planning.

She knew what she had seen, but had no idea how to prove it.

~~~~~

1:24:21

The third day of training passed just as quickly as the first. You rushed around the grounds, handing over bottles of water and offering words of reassurance. It felt like a workout even though you weren’t the one training and you breathed a sigh of relief when it finally came to a close.

You mopped your brow and peered out over the horizon, taking in the golden sunset.

It was almost time.

~~~~~

00:24:12

Shouta...I’ve been thinking…

We need to be honest with ourselves. You aren’t Hizashi and Hizashi’s not you. You aren’t each other’s substitute and it’s unfair to everyone to pretend you are.

You frowned as you took a sip of soda.

You’d been lost in thought ever since you’d arrived at the midpoint with Ragdoll, going over and over everything you wanted to say to Shouta. In many respects you felt guilty, for you knew you weren’t paying as much attention to the ghost walk as you should.

You didn’t notice the thump of heavy footsteps nearby until Ragdoll herself hopped to her feet to listen.

“What...is that…”

“Is it a student?”

Ragdoll squinted and moved closer to the trees. The footsteps had slowed, but were still audible in the distance. You got up yourself, but she motioned for you to stay where you were.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” she said with a smile. “Maybe Pixie Bob made one of her earth creatures for extra scares.”

She walked towards the trees, disappearing into the shadows and out of sight. It made you nervous, though you didn’t know why. You tapped your foot against the ground and chewed your bottom lip, listening as both Ragdoll’s footsteps and the heavy ones fell silent.

It lasted only for a second, though it felt like years. You reached for the satchel of extra gear the two of you had packed and rummaged inside of it for a torch. You knew you shouldn’t leave your post, but you wanted to feel just a little safer.

“R-Ragdoll?” you called out, fiddling with the switch. “Are you-“

The footsteps started again and you froze in place, watching as something emerged from the trees. You dropped the torch and it flashed on when it hit the ground, illuminating the enormous creature stumbling towards you.

Your heart froze in your chest and you took a step backwards, insides turning to water.

You recognised this sort of creature from Tsukauchi’s investigation of the events of USJ, though had only ever seen them in photos. You shivered as you took in its exposed brain and dead, fishlike eyes, watching helplessly as Ragdoll thrashed in its grip.

“Get out of here, (Name),” she called out, the creature squeezing her body until the radio fell from her head. “Tell the others!”

You knew that you should obey her, but you were frozen to the spot, unable to do anything but watch as two other figures emerged from the trees. One was a young man with a patchworked face; the other wore a black and white costume that hid any identifying features from view.

The man with the patchworked face glanced from the creature to you, examining you from head to toe as if coming to a decision.

“Hmmm,” he said. “You aren’t on the list.”

You had no idea what list he was talking about, nor why you weren’t on it. You wondered if he was talking about the list of attendees to the summer camp, though prayed you were wrong. The camp’s location was a secret, or rather, was supposed to be one.

“Run!” Ragdoll screamed again and this time you obeyed, sprinting away along the dirt track and back towards camp.

The patchwork-faced man turned languidly to face his companion and shrugged.

“Twice,” he said, “make a copy. We can’t have her alert the others.”

“Right away! Just leave it to me!”

“Honestly, we only just got here and already you’re telling me what to do.”

You glanced over your shoulder just in time to see two identical men with patchwork faces, one of which was beginning to follow you.

Shit, shit, shit.

You ran away, reaching into your pocket for your phone. You needed to warn the others, you needed to-

Shit

You stumbled over an uneven spot in the floor, phone soaring out of your hand and into the trees as your mouth filled with blood.

You rolled over onto your back and crawled over to reach for it, though the tumble had slowed you down significantly. The second patchwork man strolled towards you at a leisurely pace as if you hadn’t bothered to run from him at all. You pushed yourself up onto your feet, but your ankle throbbed and caved in, leaving you crashing back to the ground.

“Ow,” you muttered, shuffling back towards the trees and out of danger, though not remotely fast enough to get away.

“They said I’m not s’posed to hurt you,” he said, taking a step closer, “just scare you a little.”

He smirked, taking in your burst lip and grazed knees; your frantic rummaging through the bag of supplies.

“Looks like my job’s already been done for m-“

He inched backwards as you dragged out the thing you’d been looking for: a flare gun, packed in case of emergencies. It was harmless, of course, but in the darkness looked just like the real thing.

“Tell me,” you said, “are you a clone?”

He raised his hands in mock surrender, conflict visibly playing out across his face at the activation of your quirk.

“I am,” he said.

“Tell me,” you said again, far more forcefully, “do you share memories? Will you both remember this conversation?”

“I share his memories. He doesn't share mine.”

You didn’t know if the clone shared the original’s quirk as well as his memories and were more than a little aware that you only had a short window before he figured out you weren’t holding a real gun.

“ Tell me ,” you said. “Where is the league of villains? Where do they gather?”

He squeezed his hands together, blue flames rippling across his skin as he recited an address. You committed it to memory and then pulled the trigger, limping off into the trees as he dodged the red sparks.

You limped as fast as your legs would carry you, finally collapsing behind a tree to catch your breath. You reached for your phone with shaking hands, writing out the address in a message to Shouta and cursing under your breath when it failed to send.

“Come on, come on, come on,” you said, tapping ‘resend’ over and over to no avail. You had to warn them, had to tell them.

You gave up on sending the message and used the tree as a guide to get back up onto your feet, wincing as almost every inch of your body ached in protest.

Come on , you willed yourself. Come on, (Name), you can do this.

You weren’t a hero, but none of the kids were yet. You had joined UA to guide and protect them and cuts and bruises didn’t change that obligation.

You froze in place at the sound of footsteps, clapping a hand over your nose and mouth, eyes darting around at your surroundings. The trees swayed in the evening breeze, the stars shone brightly overhead, seemingly oblivious to what was happening within the forest. You squeezed your eyes shut, heart pounding and skin clammy.

Why had the villains come here?

What was their goal?

You wished you had asked the patchwork faced man while you still had a chance.

The footsteps faded, their owner retreating in the opposite direction. You breathed a steady sigh of relief and peeped out behind you at the path you would need to take to get back to the main path. It would probably be faster to go through the woodland and you turned back to get your bearings, heart stopping as you found yourself looking into the mouth of another stranger, one who was currently dangling from the branch above you and grinning widely, revealing a set of shining teeth.

“M...meat,” he said, dropping to the floor and leaning back, one of his canines stretching from his mouth and slicing open your arm. “Fresh meat.”

You knew this villain. You remembered his court case; your father led the prosecution and landed him on death row.

Moonfish

You remembered going for coffee with your brother, who at the time was interning at your father’s law firm. It was his first real case and it affected him deeply. He refused to talk about it, even now that years had passed.

After seeing the villain in the flesh, you thought you understood why. He moved with inhuman dexterity, landing in front of you before you could so much as move.

You saw the blade coming. You heard it pierce the tree.

You didn’t, however, feel it go through your body, not until he jerked his head back in an attempt to free his tooth from the tree bark. You screamed in pain, the wound burning every time he moved.

“Show me,” he said, yanking his head, “show me how you look on the inside.”

His tooth snapped and he stumbled backwards, leaving you to flop forward, blood soaking through your shirt.

“Show me,” said Moonfish, stumbling forwards. “Let me taste your flesh.”

You opened your mouth to protest, ears ringing.

You didn’t know what you meant to say to him, only that you never got the chance. He stepped forwards to land the finishing blow, only to hear a noise in the distance. You heard it, too, eyes bulging in realisation.

The students still didn’t know about the attack and were continuing on the ghost walk. A pair of them were nearby, discussing the possible tactics of 1-B.

You searched your brain for the order, though struggling to settle on a single thought, skin prickling as Moonfish retracted his teeth and disappeared into the night, far more interested in a different sort of prey.

You tried to move, only to cry out in pain. The broken tooth seemed to have gone right through not only you, but the tree. If you tried to pull it out, you would almost certainly bleed to death far faster, but if you stayed there it wouldn’t just be you who bled.

You snatched up your phone and frantically dialled everyone in your phone book, blood soaking through your shirt and shorts.

You dialled Shouta to no avail.

You dialled Hizashi, who was in the middle of recording his radio show.

You dialled Nemuri, who was filming an interview on a late night television show.

“Someone,” you murmured, vision going dark and limbs going floppy. “Someone…”

You looked up towards the sky, taking in the bright stars with a bitter smile.

You knew it was impossible, and she was far away, but you could feel your mother pinching your cheeks.

~~~~~

00:05:20

Of all of the heroes in all of the world, Eraserhead was perhaps the most mysterious. What few people knew of his existence knew even less about the man. He was a shadow, venturing out of the darkness only to ambush would be criminals and vanish just as quickly as he came.

He worked best after dark where he could travel unseen. Ironic, therefore, that on this night in particular he stumbled over his feet. He sprinted through the undergrowth, phone pressed to his ear.

Hello, this is (Name). I’m not around at the moment, please leave a message!

“Come on,” he hissed, coming to an abrupt halt and dialling again.

Shouta glanced around at his surroundings, entirely in his element, yet powerless to act.

After returning Kota to the lodge, his phone had exploded with missed calls and messages.

“What is it?” Vlad had asked, noticing the blood drain from his face.

“I’m forwarding an address,” he said, copying one of your messages. “Pass it onto the police when they get here.”

“An address? What-”

“Just pass it onto them! It’s important!”

He had no idea why it was important, of course, only that you wouldn’t have sent it to him so many times if it wasn’t.

Your phone went through to voicemail again and he swore under his breath,

“Idiot,” he hissed. “What did I tell you about facing unknown villains?”

He remembered the night you got him with pepper spray.

Why would you try and confront a villain without help? You could have gotten yourself killed.

“You better not have done anything stupid,” he said, dialling your number again to distract himself from the fact that if you had gotten that information by using your quirk, you must have gotten close to a villain.

“Over here!” Tiger yelled nearby. Shouta followed the sound of his voice, arriving at what had previously been the midpoint.

His ears began to ring when he saw what remained of it: an abandoned table, soaked with blood, an abandoned torch flickering on the ground.

“This...this is Ragdoll’s radio,” said Tiger, lifting it up from the floor. “Oh my god…this...this is blood!”

“This blood’s cold,” said Shouta, dipping his pinky finger into it and glancing across at the radio in Tiger’s hands, “most likely hers.”

“There’s so much,” said Tiger, voice breaking, “that idiot...her quirk isn’t suitable for combat. She knows that.”

Shouta crouched down to pick up the abandoned torch.

“There’s no blood on this,” he said, turning it over in his hands. “Whoever dropped it wasn’t injured.” He fiddled with the on switch and turned to face the table, where Tiger had picked up Ragdoll’s abandoned radio. “They were frightened, though.”

“(Name),” said Tiger, picking up his train of thought. “Ragdoll...she must have told her to run.”

Shouta cursed and followed the dirt track, dialling your number as he went. He froze on the spot when he spotted an abandoned flare in the mud.

“This way,” he called out, rushing over and crouching down to examine it.

By then, it had largely burned out, but that wasn’t what caught his attention.

Generally speaking, people fired flare guns into the sky. This one had pretty clearly ricocheted off a tree. Whoever fired it had done so in self defense, as a distraction.

“Did you find anything?”

Shouta glanced over his shoulder to see Vlad arriving from the opposite direction.

“Did you see anyone on your route here?” he asked, stomach churning at the head shake he got in response.

“They’ve sent out a helicopter to track down any stragglers,” said Vlad, pointing to the sky. “We’ll soon have a better idea of what we’re dealing with.”

“There’s not enough time,” said Shouta, dialling your number.

He had a pretty good idea of the sequence of events so far and didn’t like it one bit. You and Ragdoll had likely been ambushed by multiple villains. Ragdoll had almost certainly told you to run, not only because you were a civilian, but to raise the alarm. Someone had followed you to this spot, but what had happened next?

He got his answer a few seconds later, for somewhere to his left a phone started to ring.

“That way,” he said, sprinting in that direction, Vlad not far behind.

He couldn’t seem to move fast enough; his legs felt heavy, as if he was wading through water.

He followed the sound to its source and froze on the spot at what greeted him.

It was you, impaled by a long, jagged piece of metal that ran all of the way through the tree behind you. Your hands, lips and clothes were covered in blood, cell phone still ringing in your lifeless hand.

He couldn’t move, couldn’t say a thing, not even as Vlad arrived behind him.

“(Name),” said Vlad, dropping to the ground and examining your wounds. “(Name)...”

He turned to Shouta, ready to tell him that you were still warm, only to fall silent at the sight of him standing there. His mouth opened and closed helplessly, an expression of unspeakable horror and dread across his face.

He clasped a hand over his mouth and turned away from the scene, the scent of blood and smoke making him retch. He remembered every time you had asked to talk to him; every time he had chickened out of saying how he really felt.

Vlad was calling out to him, but he couldn’t make out a word, too lost in memories to be at all coherent.

He remembered you tapping a wet cloth to his face so many months ago. He had been furious then, though it all felt meaningless now.

You need to be more rational in these things. Running head on into danger gets people killed.

Good job I had a big, strong Eraserhead around to protect me.

“Aizawa,” said Vlad, “Aizawa...she’s…”

He didn’t get an answer, though, just a yell as Aizawa dropped onto his hands and knees.

They were in the forest, but all he could hear was rubble crashing to the floor, silently taking Shirakumo with it.

To this day, he still wasn’t fast enough.

Vlad turned back to you and tucked your hair behind your ear, face dropping at the muffled mumbling coming from your lips, intertwined with the muffled sobs coming from Aizawa that he would later pretend he didn’t hear.

“Shouta...it’s unfair...unfair...un...fair.”

00:00:00

#aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #eraserhead x reader #there is some like #references to #yamada hizashi x reader #but this chapter is mainly aizawa x reader #habanero

61 notes · View notes