#and oh boy like i really like the idea that Prowl is kind of a hopeless romantic if you get close enought to him
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So unlike you
Oh boy oh boy angst time. This was requested by my mutual @callisto-moon-bot150 she asked for angst with a happy ending, involving Prowl and Bulkhead arguing.
Honestly it was hard to think of something they'd argue about but i figured it out, this ficlet takes place during\after that one episode where Prowl teams up with Lockdown and has a sort of craze for mods.
"Prowl?.... PROWL! What do you think you're doing?! You can't go after Starscream alone!" Bulkhead looked towards the sky at the small ship that Prowl took to go after the allspark signal on the moon.
"Don't worry, Bulkhead. I know what I'm doing, I have the emp and stasis cuffs there's nothing to worry about". Prowl's tone was as calm as ever, but something about the confidence in his voice felt different. Prowl wasn't one to doubt his abilities, but he was never cocky. Now his words were laced with the kind of overconfidence that Bulkhead wold moreso expect from Bumblebee.
Soon thereafter Prowl went into complete radio silence. Of course this worried everyone, especially Bulkhead. But they could still pick up his energy signature and no distress calls so they all hoped for the best.
But nobody could have guessed what would happen next.
To see Lockdown again was bad on it's own, to see Lockdown with Prowl was worse. But to see Prowl and Lockdown working together? It made the fact there now somehow was two of Sarscream into nothing more than an afterthough.
"Prowl... what are you doing?! Why are you working with Lockdown?!" Optimus stared in disbelief at Prowl. Ratchet looked a lot more angry "and why do you have all of those..." he vaguely geastured towards Prowl "...things?"
Prowl deflected all of his teammates' comments, and they didn't have any time to argue with multiple Starscreams to deal with. During the whole ordeal Prowl acted so unlike himself that it felt like he was someone else.
In the end he snapped out of it and threw aside all the mods that he borrowed from Lockdown. But it wasn't that easy for everyone else to forget it...
Prowl was firstly scolded and grilled with questions. And he understood that, he really did and he didn't argue about it. But even after that he could still feel the distrust coming from his teammates. As much as they tried to hide it it was obvious that everyone was still worried about if this was a sign of worse things to come. Prowl understood that too, he wasn't oblivious to how the others could see this as some sort of implication.
But what really hurt was the distrust from Bulkhead. It was like he was avoiding Prowl, and as much as it hurt Prowl really didn't have a hard time rationalizing it. Bulkhead was the one who told him not to go alone, and Prowl remembered acutely the look of betrayal he got from Bulkhead when they saw each other after Prowl returned.
It was the worst punishment of all. To have the person who's supposed to love the most you avoid you completely. Prowl tried to talk thing out, he wanted so badly to apologise, to beg for forgiveness. But every time Bulkhead would just talk for as short as possible, or avoided talking all together.
This lasted for days, and it was absolutely unbearable. Everyone else was slowly moving on from it, except for Bulkhead and it was driving Prowl insane. It made the worst case scenarios play through his head on repeat. Did this mean the end? Did this mean that Bulkhead didn't want to be together anymore? The thought made Prowl's spark clench, how could he have ever even though of somthing so idiotic? He should've listened, he should've stayed and not gone out on his own.
Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. One evening Prowl went to Bulkhead's room, he took a deep breath an knocked on the door. He entered slowly, looking at Bulkhead with both anxiety and hope. Seeing the way that Bulkhead looked at him cut deeper than any blade.
"Bulkhead.... I... came to apologise" Prowl was hoping so dearly that Bulkhead would listen. "You were right, I shouldn't have gone out on my own, I should've never even considered working with Lockdown. Please, how can I make it up to you? Please, talk to me", his voice was pleading as he hoped so deeply to get any sort of response.
When he didn't get any response he sighed and hanged his head in defeat, "I... understand, if this means.. the end, then I'll accept it", Prowl turned around and was about to leave the room when Bulkhead spoke up.
"I was so worried about you", he spoke quietly, but with a slur of emotions in his voice. He turned to look at Prowl "I thought that the worst had happened when you would't respond. And when you did come back you acted so... unlike yourself... I thought I'd lose you in a different way".
Prowl looked positively baffled, he took a step closer to Bulkhead "you... though that i would..." he searched for the right way to say it "... go with Lockdown? Become like him? Bulkhead, I... I could never. Yes, I admit I acted like an absolute fool but I could never do something like that".
Bulkhead still looked apprehensive but didn't look away from Prowl, didn't object to Prowl approaching him. Prowl took it as a good sign, and continued "I'm so sorry, you were right! I should have listened to you! I acted like an idiot... please forgive me, I'll do anything" he was almost on his knees. If begging is what it took then by god he'd beg.
Bulkhead stood up, and walked up to Prow, "Anything?".
"Yes! Anything! Anything it takes!" Bulkhead's willingnees to talk made Prowl hopeful, when he said he'd do anything he meant it.
Bulkhead took another step forwards and grabbed Prowl, holding him close to his chest. "Never scare me like that again. I know I can't force you do listen to me but just... promise me that".
Prowl immediatly wrapped his arms around Bulkhead's neck, even if it had only been a few days since they last heald each other it was still far too long. "I promise, I promise I'll listen more, and i won't pull any stunts like that ever again", he said this wholehearthedly. This was a lesson that he wouldn't forget.
"Thanks. And uhm, sorry for the silent treatment... I just didn't know how to react" Bulkhead looked a lot more at ease and he leaned in to kiss Prowl.
Prowl accepted the affection like it was what kept him alive, "I understand, though I must admit these past few days must have been the worst ones of my life". He couldn't resist, he kept kissing Bulkhead like there was no tomorrow. It was almost hard to believe that he's normally so distant with everyone.
And it seemed like Bulkhead also didn't like the consequenses of his silent treatment, because he seemes equally as needy for attention. "Yeah, mine too. Now come here, I'm not letting you go until we've both had our fill", he smiles and picks Prowl up, holding him close.
With that it was like whatever invisible wall that stood between them fell. They held onto each other as if letting go would kill them, they exchanged kisses and words of adoration like they needed it more than anything else.
"I'm never giving you the silent treatment again", Bulkhead chuckled a little to himself "honestly, I wanted to stop after a day and a half. You're real irresistible you know that?".
Prowl was already flustered but hearing that only made it worse. He laughed and smiled warmly, it was rare sight but he couldn't help it when Bulkhead was so damn charming. "Likewise, I know I act very distant a lot of the time but now I simply can't imagine a life without you", he leaned in and kissed Bulkhead, this time more passionatley, "but enough talking, I have a few days worth of attentoin to catch up on".
#transformers animated#tfa prowl#tfa#transformers#tfa bulkhead#prowlbulk#bulkprowl#hoooooooo boy#like honestly i could not imagine any other scenario where these two would disagree this badly#but hey if it works it works#and oh boy like i really like the idea that Prowl is kind of a hopeless romantic if you get close enought to him#like mr tall dark and distant becoming the sappyest fuck ever behind closed doors#so obviously he wouldn't like the silent treatment#and bulky would not do any better since he is defo touch starved#and insecure so not getting his daily dose of affection would suck for him#basically they're both just super affectionate and absolutely love the attention they get from each other
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Hello!! Just found your blog recently and your bf scenarios of heartsteel members were endearing to read!! Id like to request a scenario of f reader was a childhood friend of kayn and reader always been tbere for him even if he got kicked out of the band multiple times, reader will always support him because hes number 1 in her heart , there can be angst n fluff or whichever, take your time and thank you!!
Thanks so much for your request! I am WAY excited about getting one haha!
This prompt is simply great. I LOVE the idea of Kayn having a ride or die from childhood! Here it goes!
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TW- Fluff, angst, kissing, suggestive themes kinda???. Enter at your own risk!
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You had always admired Kayn.
Even when he is hot headed, when he lacks in confidence, you were, and always will be, there.
It all started when the two of you were in grade school. Kayn was often getting into little tiffs on the playground, and you made it a personal challenge to engage with him and try to make him a little happier.
"Hey, Kayn, right? It's good to meetcha. I was wondering if you wanted to play tag with me?" You had said, twiddling your thumbs and smiling shyly at him.
The little boy glared at you for a moment. Right as you were about to lose hope and turn away, it appeared something had switched in his brain.
"Sure, but no cheating!"
From that day forward, the two of you were like peas in a pod. Kayn was everchanging, as were you.
Eventually, Kayn developed some kind of alter ego he called Rhaast. You didn't really understand it. All you knew was that when he switched, someone was going to get hurt or something was going to happen.
Kayn was never really a sensitive or open person in a traditional sense. The two of you had off and on flings throughout middle and high school, until Kayn got into the band and party scene. You never gave up on your friendship, though.
There had been a few bands before the most recent. You went to all of their shows, accompanied him when he went to his little (mostly unsuccessful) meet and greets.
He was always so protective of you. If there was ever someone who was coming onto you or making you feel uncomfortable at a show, he would literally get off stage in the middle of a set and teach the person a lesson. You couldn't help but admire the way his dark pink hair brushed across his face as he prowled over to you to face the culprit. It made you blush, thinking of how he handled these situations.
One day, after a busy day at work, you got home to see Kayn sitting on the couch at your apartment looking wholly defeated.
"Oh, I wasn't expecting to see you here," you had said, your brow furrowed as you approached him. "Whatcha up to?"
"I don't want to talk," was all he said as you sat next to him. It was hard to accept that as an answer, so you pushed him just enough to get a reason.
"Well, you're sitting on my couch looking really upset. What happened?"
"I said I don't want to-," he looked at you swiftly, his nostrils flared and eyes angry. You knew Rhaast was close to the surface, but you held strong because you knew Kayn liked it when you stood up for yourself, even to him. He sighed when he saw the determined look in your eye. "Fine, I got kicked out of the band."
"Oh!" You exclaimed, shocked because it seemed like everything had been going really well for him and who you thought were his friends. They had done a couple shows, mostly just hanging out and jamming together. "What happened, Shadow?" He sighed again, a tad bit more dramatically, when you used his nickname. You had called him that ever since middle school when you would find him sulking in dark places like a weirdo.
"Well, apparently the guys don't like pranks. It was out of character for me to pull one, sure, but I didn't think a little 'poop on fire at your door' gag would piss them off so much. Whatever, I don't need them."
You tried and failed to hold back a laugh at his admitted fault. He looked back at you with his mismatched eyes and his lips quirked upward ever so slightly.
"Oh, Kayn, I'm so sorry. I don't mean to laugh but that is honestly really funny! I thought you all were chill; I'm surprised a stupid prank like that got them so riled up." Without realizing it, you reached up to adjust a piece of his hair that had fallen in front of his eyes while you let out another soft chuckle. You quickly snatched your hand away, mouth closing and eyes widening.
Kayn looked at you with a shocked expression for a moment, before he did something that made your heart race just like all the times previously when you two had dated. He leaned in and kissed you gently on the lips.
"Thank you, Y/N, for making me realize how funny I truly am," he smirked, clearly trying to adjust the topic from the kiss that had just happened.
That day, things had been different between the two of you. You weren't sure if it was because it was the first time the two of you had kissed in your adulthood, or if it was because you realized he chose your place to go to when he was feeling down.
It made you feel warm and fuzzy inside.
Your usual hangouts had turned into you stumbling over your words, blushing when he did anything remotely attractive, and overall, just a little more awkward.
It didn't take long for Kayn to find a new band, after that. You were excited to meet all of his new bandmates; Ezreal, Sett, Aphelios, Yone, and K'Sante. They were all sweethearts, and you couldn't help but think that this might be the band.
They named their band Heartsteel, and you were awestruck at how popular they became and how quickly. With that, of course, came consequences.
Every show, event, even just strolling through stores together, there were paparazzi and fans jumping all over Kayn. Inevitably, this drove a wedge between the two of you. He became so busy all of the time, and it was hard to find a moment for the two of you to see each other.
Back to present, you are working your usual nine to five office job. It's boring, but it pays the bills. You get to see all the fancy magazine articles and covers that Kayn and his band are in. You get to hear all of the stupid annoying girls at your office giggle and talk about how hot they all are.
You huff when one of them walks by your desk, joking about how she'd "do anything to get into Kayn's bed".
I bet you would. You thought. Unbeknownst to her, you had been in Kayn's bed, more than once in fact. Never daring to say anything about your relation to him in fear of being shut down or gaining too much attention, you just did your best to ignore it all.
The day was finally reaching its end when your phone vibrated in your purse. You opened it to see a text from Yone.
Hey, Y/N. It's Yone.
Oh, hey Yone. What's up?
Kayn is having some sort of... well, he's really upset right now, and he just keeps asking to see you. He doesn't sound like himself. Can I come get you and bring you over here?
You raise a brow at the message on your screen. It had been at least a month since the last time the two of you had spoken, as it was like pulling teeth to get Kayn to answer a text or a phone call in the first place, let alone now.
Don't worry about picking me up, I'll head over there now.
You quickly gathered your belongings and let your boss know you were heading out ten minutes early. Bidding your farewells, you left the building and climbed into your car. You took your heels off, adjusting your skirt so that your ass didn't stick to the leather as you flung your purse into the passenger seat.
A million thoughts raced through your mind, but one thing you were certain of. When you got there, that wasn't going to be Kayn.
It was going to be Rhaast.
The drive was about an hour, and when you pulled through the iron gates after inputting your code, Yone and Aphelios were waiting outside looking at their phones.
You put your car in park, put your shoes back on and quickly got out and speed-walked up to them.
"Hey guys, sorry it took me so lo-."
"No time for small talk, let's go," Yone all but dragged you through the door of the house they shared, leading you down a long hallway to the small practice and recording studio they put in. He didn't release your elbow until the two of you were standing right in front of the door, and he turned to look at you.
"I hate to say it but, be careful. He's acting a little...," Yone trailed off, as if trying to find a way to describe it.
"Manic? Crazy? Off the rails? Yeah, don't worry, I got this," You smiled politely at him, pushing him softly out of the way and opening the door to the room.
Contrary to your feigned confidence, your heart was beating out of your chest. What you saw when you entered had it racing even more.
Kayn was standing against the wall with no shirt, his arms crossed, smoking a cigarette. When he looked up and caught your gaze, his mouth turned up in a devilish grin. You hadn't realized it, but your mouth was dangling open as you ogled him.
His hair was damp from sweat, his muscles rigid as he stared back at you.
"Y/N, finally, you're here!" He greeted you, pushing himself off the wall and walking your direction after pinching the cherry off his smoke. Contrary to what you were thinking was going to happen, he walked past you and shut the door.
You blinked in shock when you heard the click of a lock.
"What's going on, Kayn?" your voice trembled as you asked, but you squared your shoulders and raised your chin none the less.
"Tsk tsk tsk, is that how you greet your best friend?" He murmurs, coming up behind you and wrapping his large arms around you. "I've missed you, Y/N."
You shuddered in his grasp before looking around the room with a sigh. "Is that why you trashed the studio? Because you missed me?"
He nuzzled his face into your neck and breathed in deeply, causing goosebumps to raise all over.
"Yes," he stated plainly. You weren't even surprised in his nonchalance about it. "Everything has been so overwhelming, lately. It doesn't take much for me to snap anymore, but when I see you all of those problems seem to melt away...". You were surprised, however, at how open he was being as soon as you got there. Kayn was never one to open up without a fight first. Perhaps the fight had already happened within himself.
You turned around in his arms to face him, looking up at him with a weak smile.
"I've missed you too, Shadow. I've got to admit, I don't like all the attention you're getting from girls either," you sigh. The vulnerability he approached you with must have been rubbing off. You didn't mind though. It was time for you to tell him how you really feel. "Kayn, I- I want to be-".
"Can you just be mine, already?" He interrupts, his eyes locked to yours. "I want you. I want every part of you. Nothing... Nothing feels right when you're not with me. The girls, the shows, none of it. So can you please please be mine?"
"I always have been, Shadow. And I always will be," leaning up, you place a kiss on his mouth. Retreating, you only get a moment before he slams his lips back onto your own, and you let out a little moan in acceptance.
"Always." He growls against your lips, and you know for once in all the time you've been his number one fan, that this time is forever.
The end :3
I kind of just went with the flow on this one. Hope you enjoyed!
#Heartsteel Kayn x Reader#Heartsteel Kayn#Heartsteel x Reader#League of Legends Fanfic#Kayn x Reader#Kayn Fanfic
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I absolutely love the au where bee is a con!! if you don't mind, do you have anymore info on it? I'd love to know more on bee's own reputation and conjunx lol!
That is not a thing i expected to pop off. Oh well. This is an old idea i had like few months back that i just remembered. It's not really an AU, more like a continuation from the present.
So for short introduction- Bee is one of the counselors to Megatron, he's more of a "give ideas" guy than the one to make them work. Blitzwing, who he's been dating back on earth, is now his Conjunx and got himself his own fleet of soldiers to command. Basically Elite Guard. Bee is known to be very kind and caring but also merciless and strict when needed. He's either feared or loved among the lower status folks. He was the one that helped Megs work out the laws for the workers since he has experienced it himself. On free cycles he plays video games like always, he hangs out on videocall or in person with Longarm/Shockwave(depending on which the transformer is feeling like that cycle). If he's not doing that or working then he's spending time with Blitzwing in their apartment. They have a knack for watching romcoms from earth on evenings. They love each other very much. <3
Anyway, oh boy- a text wall!
As i said it all happened because the others basically neglected their friendship with him. They ignored or didn't notice when he was genuinely feeling bad or upset. He learned that the Autobot Council basically screwed the 'cons over from Blitzwing when they were dating- he met up with Megatron in secret and discussed few things, Blitzwing was so surprised when he saw him at the 'con base wearing the Decepticon insignia.
And so, Bee had few arguments with his team before he disappeared for good and the 'cons gained advantage after advantage and before they knew it they were arrested in their own base and taken hostage along with Sari. Megatron got the Allspark and won the war and now Cybertron's laws are being reformatted, there are few questionable changes but overall it's not that bad- truth be told but denied, it's actually better than what the Council had going on.
The next thing they know is that they are being de-armed and set free to do their job as repair bots. Sari couldn't bring herself leave them alone so she tagged along. She was about 24 i'd say when they arrive at the construction zone in New Iacon, they overhear the coversation and recognise one of the voices- they couldn't believe when the small dark cybertronian turned to them. It was Bee, his paint was matte black with shiny yellow with orange gradient stripes. His frame was different from the yellow one they knew, his alt mode was a Lamborghini. He had heels like Prowl and his horns were bigger, kind of making his helm look like a V shape. And he had doorwings. To add to it all the Decepticon Elite insignia proudly shined on his chassis and his deep lavender optics matched its color.
(think Elite Guard symbol but Decepticon, it's really just to show high-placed status of the one wearing it.)
He was oddly cold to them, even corrected Ratchet when he called him 'kid'- "It's 'Sir' to you, old bot. And so is to everyone else in the facility." The others asked him questions but stopped when Bee ignored the first few and just kept talkign about what they will do here. He led them to their temporary quarters before going off somewhere.
The job would be long to be sure, they were building a space bridge gate from scratch- they had supplies assigned and more of them coming soon promised. In the first few cycles there were no issues, Bee was always on topic and polite, which was weird to see. He seemed cold whenever he spoke with them- which is why when one of the guards started talking crap to Sari for being slow and weak, Bee seemed to materialize out of this air behid the guy. He only said 3 words when the guard looked at him, petrified. "My office. Now." He wasn't angry, he spoke in a cold tone with an uncanny calm expression, optics locked on the big 'con guard. Which maybe made it more scary. He only glanced at Sari breifly before walking away, presumably into his office. What surprised them the most was how scared the guard seemed in that moment, like he just insulted Megatron himself.
It was then another guard spoke up, a femme this time. It was she that told the group that guards that mistreat workers end up without jobs and that Bee is a high ranking advisor to Megatron. And that this place is a future orphanage. Bee was strict but with a kind Spark, a respect well earned. For that and for what he did with some of the laws. They never expected Bee out of all people to be so concerned about the law n stuff. It was odd enough to see him sit by his desk signing datapads in his office.
They knew Bee was raised in an Carequarters(orphanage) with awful staff so knowing Bee was in charge of building and almost running the facility they were working on warmed their Sparks.
On all construction sites, it's bound for accidents to happen- one of the heavy-duty workers dropped a metal pillar from the upper scaffolding and Prowl was about to get hit. But Bee pushed him out of the way, unfortunatelly damaging his stabilizer. He even asked if Prowl was fine before being concerned about himself. Prowl helped him to the medbay and they had a little chat; Prowl didn't expect Bee to do that, he asked few question and Bee straight up scolded him for thinking he would be a tyrant and told him that not all of the 'cons are bad, just rough on the surface.
Then there was an accident where the weakly supported ceiling crashed on one of the constructicons. Bee was speeding down the hallway to the repair crew's quarters- they were just talking about Bee when Ratchet said something that might have been offending- "Ratchet!!" Bee yelled as he bursted thru the door- Before the medic could say something let alone apologize if Bee had some 'someone insulted me' senses, "Accident in the front hall! Medic needed- NOW!" All in a worried but stern tone. It was enough to make him grab his medical kit and rush down the hall after Bee. After that Ratchet was put on Medic duty and didn't have to work with the rest of the repair crew.
When Bee was speaking with Optimus one time he noticed a worker having troubles with lifting some materials they had no issue carrying last cycle. He left Optimus mid-conversation and came up to them to ask if eveything's alright. The big bot did say he was feeling a bit under the weather and Bee send him to get checked out in medbay and that he was off-duty for the rest of the cycle. Then he came back to Optimus and resumed the talk just like nothing happened. It only showed that Bee cared a lot about everyone.
The Bulkhead got the offer to paint the play area since it was finished. Of course for a hefty pay bonus. The play area was in a dome, in the middle stood a bronze statue representing earth's tree with swings hanging and a tunnel thru it. Prowl was also artistic in a way so he also got to paint it- the final result was a beautiful mural of a flowery meadow with a forest all around the room. And the higher you looked, there were clouds, stars and even planets near the glass ceiling. The two deemed the work as a success, seeing Bee with that childish smile again as he looked around with wonder was worth more than any of the sights from the most beautiful galaxies.
The moment the facility was finished, Bee gathered all the workers and gave a speech even Optimus was jealous of- He thanked everyone and said how grateful and happy he is to be building a better future for everyone along with them. Everything was perfect- but then the alarm rang and the Autobot rebellio bursted thru the wall and started taking everything apart. And wouldn't you know, it was the old friend Sentinel who led the pack. He tried to get Optimus to join him before being pulled into a fight with Bee who had a staff similar to the ones the guards had. Sentinel and few others were arrested(again) and the rest of the rebellion fled. Don't worry they got caught by another fleet of soldiers further away from the facility.
But that didn't matter- everything Bee was working hard for was ruined. The beautiful area was a ruin covered in dust and gunpowder. "Bee? Are you o-" "What are you staring at?! Get back to your quarters!" He had snapped before retreating to his office to cry his Spark out. The call to Megatron was hard to make, but it was even harder to answer Blitzwing's call after he was done speaking with the Warlord. They called each other at the end of each cycle, this was the first time Bee didn't answer. And he didn't answer them until Blitz was assigned to go aid him with security and arrived at the place the next cycle. He comforted his hummel as he cried- a small conversation between them happened, which Sari managed to overhear when she was passing by Bee's quarters.
From then on, whenever Bee was present on the construction-again zone Blitzwing was always near. Another worker told them about gossips that they were Conjunxes. Later Sari confirmed when they were speaking in private.
And so the construction works go monitored by a lot of guards and soldiers- few of them seemed to recognize the crew from earth but they never mentioned it- whether that was intentional or an order from Bumblebee they may never know. Blitzwing is there for Bee on every step of the way, and even his old friends had few cases to reassure him.
The carequarters are finally finished and Megatron himself comes thru the newly-built space bridge for the final check-up before grand opening later. Bee is very happy and does compliment his workers- he said how good of a job the repair crew has done right in front of them. Once the grand opening is held and done, Optimus and his crew are about to leave- but not before Bee catches them to talk.
"Actually... it's just Bumblebee." He says with a smile when they call him 'sir'. he wishes them safe travel and leaves to get the facility going. Upon entering their ship, they are met with a stack of boxes and a note saying "A bonus for fast work!" signed with a cartoony earth bee doodle. Each of the boxes were signed for different crew members. In the end, Bee hasn't changed much.
Later down the timeline he and the crew regain contact after few of other projects Bee was in charge of. Bee gives them better stuff and gifts and invites them to a grand gala. He and Sari have a proper reunition then, he cannot apologize enough for leaving her like that. There is a happy ending after all.
And that's it. I don't have any more info on this. The well is dry. Feel free to ask about anything else.
Lol, on the side note; this Bee's theme song would be Little Girl Gone by CHINCHILLA. (The "Say that again i didn't quite hear ya" song)
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happy sts! who is the main character of your wip and what are they like?
Oh boy, thank you!
I'm gonna do Pride & Justice because I have brain worms.
The main character of P&J is... Pride. Pride, as in the Root of All Sin, and he definitely acts like it. I like to call him my rat bastard man.
He is irritable, self-absorbed, arrogant, and at times violent. He really doesn't give a shit about anyone but himself. He's known for breaking rules and having problems with authority, but only because he thinks regulations are beneath him and he should be in charge instead. His idea of a good time is prowling around at night and making people sin—in other words, making them just like him. He lives up to his name, for sure.
This pride of his manifests as the kind of false-confidence that deeply, deeply insecure people use to make themselves seem larger and more important than they truly believe. And... yeah. He is. Even though he doesn't do anything for anyone, he's very invested in being liked. He wants to be important and cool and special. He needs you to like him, or it's a personal offense. His ego is very fragile, shattered by the slightest breeze.
Pride is every mediocre white guy you've ever met. And I am going to beat character development into him with a baseball bat.
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Death Blow
>"Sale, you wouldn't even know what to do with the money. Do you even have a crew of your own? What could two low-level crooks possibly hope to accomplish with 5 billion lire?"
"...A hitman! And if you two idiots want to make it out of this car unharmed, you WILL send me the results of your search. Understood? (5 billion might work as a suitable token for the others)"
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>"I see you glancing towards the side. You don't find the joke very funny?"
"Do not lie, Formaggio. It is beneath you."
"Who me? Carry on, you two."
>"...Shut up. Shut up! Everyone, shut the hell up...! SHUT THE FUCK UP EVERYONE!! I can't... Hear..."
>"Aw... Little Narancia. But this is certainly a... unique way of killing someone. I'm sure a certain doctor over on the special unit would be proud with that idea!"
"...Alright, alright, geez! I was just making a suggestion, you two!"
>"This isn't my battle, so I have no reason to find Trish Una. Here, take this!"
"How're you going to explain this to your capo... Still, I hope that we aren't enemies once we meet again. Bye, Narancia!"
______________________________________________________________>"Ooo, let me see! ...Yo, just HOW DID you get all this info?! Show me Leone's next!"
>"Bro! Stop lying to yourself! We don't need two masochists on this group!"
>"Motherfucker, I asked you first! You can't claim any kind of superiority, can you?! This is exactly why I hate you, Leone... Can you not be so fucking difficult for once, you dick, and answer my question?!"
______________________________________________________________>"Here's my 2 cents now that he's gone: It's all a bunch of bullshit. He can run his mouth all he wants, but the truth is, there's nothing else that separates us, besides our own standards... The gap that divides us assassins, and the common filth that prowl the streets is just that; a gap in the canyon. And Prosciutto doesn't like to admit it, but for all his talk of the gap, he implies that, to mature, you have to fall into the gap... You have to lose your standards to regain them, and to become stronger. But don't take it from me, I see it all the time, and it happens to the best of people..."
>"Uh... Let me see. ...Um, Pesci? Prosciutto's nowhere to be found-"
"I knew you had in in you!! Okay, I've got it! I'll go look for Bucciarati and the others, while you and Beach Boy finish the deed on my shout! See ya Pesci!"
>"I have no interest in seeing the little fisherman grow up. Snuff them out quickly, you two, and let's hurry up and claim Trish Una before the day ends. But first... some ice cream?"
>"Has anyone ever told you that you look like a stereotypical rich boy? Probably not, right? But you sure as hell don't act like one, that's for sure."
>"Okay, this guy is called Krow, and his level is titled 'Krow's Nest'. As expected, he's only the first boss. The eggs are most likely from a divorce. Again, since he's the first boss in the game, he doesn't have anything really noteworthy, but pay close attention to him as he's defeated. Did you notice the thing leaving the body? Correct, that's the soul of Krow. Do you think we'll encounter it later on? ...Bucciarati, are you even listening to me?
"...Oh, right, I should head back. It wouldn't do good for us if I stayed here any longer. Byeeee, Bucciarati!"
>No no, you're fine. I'm not interested in the girl now. Here you are, one little guy! See ya never!"
______________________________________________________________
>"Hehe. You really think they are, Melo? Actually, don't answer that, do you have any pills on hand? As it turns out, not even Proscuitto's immune to the despair of death..."
>"Hey, Melo, which one do you think would go best in beating the Champion?"
"Oh. Oops."
>"Hey, Giovanna. I just noticed, looking at your Stand... Were you the one that killed Polpo, indirectly of course?"
"I'm not really gonna use that answer for anything, I'm just curious."
______________________________________________________________
>"Oh, you've just reminded me. I need to go return the copy of 'Death In'-Actually, it may be best if I don't finish that title."
>"Come now, hurry up! You need to go after them! Hurry Ghiaccio! Run run run! Wheeeee!"
______________________________________________________________>"Look, I'd love to watch you two make out in public, but we have men to hunt down. But, just in case... Can you keep the white-haired man alive, and bring him to me? The goth one, yes."
>"Not cool. And why is there only 5 of you with the girl now? What happened to, oh what was his name, Fugo? Why is he not with you?"
______________________________________________________________
>"You all can go shoot my hands off if you want, my Stand is only focused on my fists, if that helps. And I can't keep vouching on my own innocence, so I'll just hang back here."
>"You know, Trish, maybe if we, my men, I mean, were more thorough in our search, this wouldn't have happened... Oh, don't look so surprised. But that's all in the past. And one of us, Nero, is already heading to Sardegna right now. He thinks I died alongside the other guys, and wishes to avenge us all. And the little underboss is heading there as well, under orders. They are, admittedly, not important to me. Not ever. But I do not want to know if they would attempt to kill the other as penance. If I'm there, they'd hold off on attacks, and the underboss is my ex-boyfriend as well, so he wouldn't want to kill me if he was ordered to do so. We all have to go to Sardegna for our own goals, but to think that reducing Carne from the Special Unit into a pincushion would bring this disaster to you all. Well... I'll go head to the cockpit."
>"Yeah, I should leave here. Hope we'll never see each other again, Bucciarati and friends! Wahoooooo!"
______________________________________________________________
>"Nero... I get it, but you yourself seem... heavier now. Is my guess on where you came from correct? You of all people, too... Why do you look so sad?"
>"I see, and where and what time should I go when you call? ...Ah, okay. That works. Thanks Nero."
>"Doppio... Ugh, what IS that smell?! And what happened to Nero... Urgh, get away from me! And for the love of sardines, take a goddamned shower!"
"NO! SHUT UP AND LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE! WE ARE SO NOT GETTING BACK TOGETHER AFTER THIS!!"
______________________________________________________________
>"Huh, so it does follow the slightest descent. Oopsie! That was useless!"
>"Doppio...? *sigh* Look, I meant what I said. I don't even think I find you the least bit attractive. Never have, never will."
______________________________________________________________
>"Hey... What gives? I was enjoying myself in there. Can you put me back in... whatever that was?"
"Let's see... It was dark, and like I was drowning in ink. But it felt so peaceful... I heard the voices of my men in there, talking to me as if their heart still beat. The nine of the great hitmen, whom I thought didn't care of me at all, talking to me about mundane things... And Doppio, I heard him as well, his gentle voice as if I didn't say that I never liked him at all... The only thing that would've completed it... would be Big Sis's voice again too. Why did you pull me back out here? Hello, Giorno?"
#dialogue is fun#dialogue#wisp rambles#wisp writes#paulla izza/billie jean ojiro#vento aureo#jjba oc#jjba original character#denial
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Ok but like, what if MC's fandom starts to make ships with MC and the guys. Just think about the ship wars, the fancams, the fanarts, the absolute CHAOS when the brothers find out. It would be even worse if they start shipping MC with the undatables, one day everything is normal and the next day there are ship wars fighting over MC x Barbatos vs MC x Solomon (who are both very smug about it)
The MC's Fanclub are… Shippers?!
Perhaps… The italics blurb has been fulfilling its greater purpose all along…? Perhaps in its state of existential angst, it has in fact developed a plot of its own… An arc of introspection and self-discovery in which its own longing for purpose has forged a meaningful identity… It now has… a story…
Lucifer
As if they couldn't get any MORE frustrating…
He's not an otaku. He's not a part of ship culture. He's not even sure why anyone would care about who dates who around this school, but apparently it's a big deal to some people...
He only became aware of their interest in him and the MC's relationship through some very… subtle clues…
Like the groups that would follow them around in the hallways with their phones out.
Or the multitude of fan rumors about their relationship that Satan spams him with from time to time just to irritate him.
"MC refused hug from Luci in halls today!! Are they bout breakup??? 🥺"
"Tots got pic of kiss today!! Relationship upgrade??"
"IS ARE MC+LUCIFER SECET LVRS?!? PLEASE RESPOND"
It only got worse after he found out the MC gets shipped out a loooooot….
If he had to pick his least favorite ship, it'd be MC x Mammon. He can kind of see it with any of his other brothers (admittedly, Levi is also a little mystifying) but the idea of them ending up with Mammon makes his skin crawl...
He once found a drawing of the MC and Mammon in an… explicit position in one of the classrooms and he was so disgusted that he wouldn’t even touch it. He just set fire to the paper outright. Disgusting...
Mammon
Shipping, eh…? More money making opportunities!
Has some passing idea of what shipping is from Levi and, from what he knows of it, shippers eat cutesy couples stuff right up!! If all he's got to do to make bank is to look all couple-y around the MC then sounds like a win-win to him!
He'll happily pose for a photo or two (paid in advance) of him throwing his arm around the MC or something. Want him to hold their hand? Sure thing!
But since this is still Mammon we're talking about, the second MC actually starts getting into any of it he'll still turn into a blushy, stuttery mess...
For WEEKS the headline picture on so many of their fans' blogs was an image of him turning beet red while the MC kissed him on the cheek. (A fan really got their money's worth there... 😏)
Though he doesn’t exactly like the MC getting shipped with other people, he'll still totally sell pictures of any of them together. He almost paid off an entire credit card with the money he got from the t-shirt sales of the MC and Satan!
If he had to point to one ship he doesn't like it's either MC x Asmo or MC x Levi. His opinion, but Asmo won't treat them right and they could do waaay better than a shut-in. Like him. Ship the MC with just the Great Mammon, got it?
Leviathan
… Lowkey super active in the MC shipping community but is a self-shipper to the extreme.
Like, he never uses his real name on anything (and would probably die from embarrassment if anyone ever found out) but a lot of their fans probably know a couple of his aliases.
He does everything from mod forums, runs a couple blogs, even anonymously posts his own work of him and MC that are totally not his secret fantasy dates or AU versions of themselves, shaddup.
It’s a lot easier for him to keep his involvement secret because he’s hardly at RAD, but the few times he does show up he tries to keep an eye out for anybody prowling for pictures so he can get in a good pose and save the image later.
Mind you, his version of a “good pose” rarely gets more spicy than linking pinkies, but even then he’s still lit up a Christmas Tree throughout.
Naturally, he’s also not a big fan of any ships that aren’t just him and MC and he can find a reason to be jealous at almost anything. But he keeps a special corner of hate for MC x Mammon and MC x Diavolo. Like, the first one doesn’t even need an explanation but MC x Diavolo?? Really??? Do those two even talk?? (please, please, please make sure they never actually talk because a guy like him versus literal royalty? He’d lose MC for sure….!! 😫)
Satan
He hates to actually agree with Lucifer on something, but their fans are starting to get out of hand...
Knows what shipping is in concept, he may have done it once or twice to characters in his books, but he was kind of surprised how it could evolve into such a… group activity?
He was pretty quick to pick up that the MC’s fans had a bit more interest in them together than they did when they both were apart…
I mean, those hideous shirts that Mammon was pedaling were kind of a dead giveaway…
Considering he finds their fanclub all rather annoying, even without their bizarre interest in his love life, when they started actively meddling with him and the MC he was ready to smash some heads.
No. He will not stop for pictures. No. What things they do together is none of your business. No. He has zero interest in seeing your explicit fanart and if you don’t start running that will be the last question you ever ask.
He DOES, however, appreciate the cringy “annoy Lucifer” ammo. They could keep that up for a lifetime... 😏
He doesn’t have a least favorite ship because he doesn’t care about any of this, leave him alone. (That’s a lie, it’s MC x Lucifer. He pokes fun at Lucifer, but he can’t stand it either. Big shock, I know 🙄).
Asmodeus
Oh he is shamelessly a part of the community, are you kidding??
He could practically call “Shipping the MC” one of his favorite pastimes. He’ll openly gossip with their fanclub about who they’ve been with, who they’re seeing, who’s got a chance, etc… He lives for this shit!
He’s the only person who knows that Levi is also in the community and what his aliases are (not because he told him, but because Levi’s not as subtle as he thinks he is… Who else would call themselves “SupremeRuri666” and speak mostly in outdated chat lingo?) but he doesn’t out him because he thinks his very obvious crush is kind of cute.
Plus, Levi needs the outlet waaaay more than him…
Doesn’t stop him from constantly trolling him and getting into arguments over who the MC would be better with though (the two are “virtual nemeses” as far as Levi is concerned).
Appreciates all forms of expression that comes out of the community (especially the saucy kind 😏) and will happily feed into his own shippers without a care in the world.
Truthfully, Asmo will say that there isn’t a ship he doesn’t like but if someone mentions one that he thinks is kind of “eh,” he’ll just add himself into the mix. “Oh, you like MC x Barbatos? Well how about Asmo x MC x Barbatos? That sounds loads more interesting doesn’t it??”
Beelzebub
Oh, Beel… Sweet, sweet Beel… Beel doesn’t even know what their club is doing…
Because Beel has a reputation of being pretty protective of MC - and against the fanclub in general - the club keeps a healthy distance… but that doesn’t mean they’re not going to sneak in some picture or make a SHITLOAD of fanwork about them.
Between classes and practice Beel is a busy guy, so sometimes he just doesn’t notice that there’s people hiding behind trees when he’s out with MC.
Honestly, his complete ignorance of it all makes it even cuter because when he acts sweet, it’s not just for the camera. That’s the real deal.
Mammon was the one who eventually let it slip that there was even shipping happening and Beel was… kind of creeped out because isn’t this stalking? But also kind of weirdly happy(?) that MC x Beel was so popular… Very conflicted boy here.
He never actually acknowledges the community, though, and just keeps on being Beel (which still gave the fans more than enough material so all’s well that ends well?)
Beel genuinely doesn’t have a least favorite ship (because he believes the best ship is whoever makes the MC happy) but his second favorite under himself is probably MC x Belphie. They look very cute together... 😊
Belphegor
Ride or die, Beel x MC x Belphie.
Just kidding (kind of), Belphie isn’t into the shipping but if asked he’d be pretty okay with that one.
His campaign against the MC’s fanclub and their attention stealing ways means that he found out about their shipping thing only slightly ahead of Beel when Mammon was trying to get pictures of them napping together…
Honestly, he couldn’t care less if a bunch of weirdos were weirdly invested in their relationship, but he’s not about to let Mammon just make a quick Grimm off of it. Belphie makes sure that he gives him NOTHING to work with.
Since Mammon is the main dealer, the shippers in both the MC fanclub and Belphie fanclub aren’t nearly as well fed and pretty desperate for anything... You best believe he plays that to his advantage (because it’s okay if he does. He’s not Mammon).
Really helps that MC x Belphie is legitimately a very cute looking couple, carried by Belphie’s cuteness alone if nothing else. Add an adorable MC and you reach levels so cute it could actually melt people into puddles of goo... They could be a registered weapon.
Least favorite MC ships are any that don’t involve him or Beel. Any others may as well just not exist, he won’t even acknowledge them. MC x Who? Yeah, that’s what he thought.
#i guess this is a series now#wasn't expecting that#obey me#obey me shall we date#shall-we-date-obey-me#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#obey me asmodeus#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphegor#obey me headcanons#obey me scenarios#obey me suggestions
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Ok you amazing person. Demon Sapnap, but the reader is really sick or maybe is in an accident and ends up in hospital. Sapnap and Dream both visit and get jealous of eachother. Eventually Dream leaves and Sapnap is just there like 👁👄👁 And then after a day or two the reader is finally home and Sapnap is like really pent up because he has been jealous Horny and reader has been in hospital and he just rails them, but softly because reader is still weak. Basically jealous soft-dom Demon Sapnap.
This is just an idea- by no means do you have to write it :)
I'm begrudgingly writing Dre as Mr. Steal Your Girl for obvious reasons (/ j), but also I couldn't pass down this idea for incubus 3 ;) I'm also going to include a few other requests I had about Sap's backstory and some smut. enjoy!
𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐒 & 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒. ⛧ 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐮𝐛𝐮𝐬!𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐧𝐚𝐩 (𝟏𝟖+)
warnings: smut (18+), spanking, degradation, thigh riding, domination, literally quoting the b!ble
here's a playlist for those of you that were asking for it. i would love to see what the rest of you are listening to :)
previous part
You opened your eyes slowly, the ache in your body fully coming to your attention as you noticed the metronome of beeps coming from the machines connected to the tubes in your arm. You turned your head, squinting as your eyes struggled to focus on the figure beside you. After a few minutes, your brain pieced together his features and your heart eased when you realized it was Sapnap. For some, obviously ungodly reason, his presence brought you a sense of calm.
His feet were kicked up on the edge of your bed, his eyes scanning over a magazine as he chewed on his bottom lip absent-mindedly. He was dressed more casually than he usually was, probably an attempt at blending into the general public. You reached out a hand, fingers brushing against the soft material of his dark crewneck to get his attention. His gaze moved to look at you, a smirk painting across his pink lips.
You cleared your throat, tongue feeling like sandpaper. “What happened?” You grumbled, reaching beside him for the remote to elevate your head.
He watched your movements carefully. “You got a fever and then passed out cold,” he reminded you softly, making you groan. “Dehydration.” You couldn’t remember what he was talking about, only feeling nauseous in the middle of the night.
“How long have I been here?” You asked, rolling your head on your shoulders as your neck cracked, your limbs popping as you moved slightly. The IV pinched your arm as you moved, making you hiss quietly, making his eyes focus on where it was attached.
He hummed in thought. “A few hours. They wanna keep you until tomorrow, just in case you die or something,” he shrugged, tossing the magazine on the couch in the corner of the room.
You rubbed one of your eyes, a yawn rippling through you. “And why are you here?”
He chuckled. “Obvious reasons,” he stated, nodding towards the bite on your shoulder. “Also, Saint Dream was the first on your emergency contact list, so…” You pulled your knees to your chest as you looked at him.
“Even if it’s just because you have a quota to meet, I’m glad you’re here,” you muttered and something flickered behind his eyes, a smug expression tugging at his lips.
He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, feet planted on the ground. “You’re not part of my quota, baby.” Your cheeks flushed at his words but before you could respond, he tensed up, eyes clouding with a darkened gold. They always shifted when something was intruding. You furrowed your brows at him. “Lupus in fabula venit enim ad me,” he mumbled darkly, the venom of sarcasm dripping from his voice as a knock came at your door.
Clay stuck his head through the threshold, eyes softening at you. Sapnap watched him silently as he stepped inside, rambling off how worried he was about you. Clay seemed to ignore Sapnap’s presence as he settled a batch of roses on your nightstand. Sapnap rolled his eyes and once Clay finally acknowledged him, he made a face like he was smelling something rotten. Sapnap looked like he was ready to snap Clay in half if he approached you closer, yet his dark demeanor didn’t dissuade Clay. In fact, it seemed like Clay was hell-bent on ruffling his feathers more, pulling up a chair on the other side of you.
“I didn’t think he would be here,” Clay commented, voice dipping slightly as his sights shifted toward Sapnap, irises flashing brighter. You perked an eyebrow at him.
Sapnap scoffed, leaning back in his seat. “I’m here because she wants me here,” he commented, nearly with a boasting tone. “So, it seems like I’m in the right role to ask what the fuck you think you’re doing.” You kept silent as the two played their game of wits and egos.
Clay smirked at him as if he was in possession of some esoteric knowledge. It dawned on you that you weren’t sure how old either of them actually was. You had dated Clay for god knows how many years, yet you learned more about his past from Sapnap than you had in any of the years you were together. “It’s still in her best interest that she be given options that don’t involve your kind,” he gritted.
Sapnap laughed shortly, a cockiness settling into his appearance. “Oh yeah? In her best interest or in yours, you selfish prick.”
Clay’s jaw tensed, a sigh flooding from his nose. “We can do this more maturely, you know? Like fucking professionals.”
Sapnap shook his head. “I’m not up for negotiating,” the stated bluntly. “Go near her again and I’ll report you,” he assured, his deadpanned stare making your heartbeat quicken.
Clay swallowed, eyes glued to Sapnap’s as the pair of them flexed their dominant personalities. Clay’s eyebrow twitched as if he had thought of something, almost mockingly. “Begone, Satan, inventor and master of all deceit,” he began, making Sapnap roll his eyes again before cutting into Clay’s quote.
“-enemy of man’s salvation. Give place to Christ in Whom you have found none of your works,” he mocked. “Try and exorcise me all you want, feather boy.”
Clay’s hand moved to curl around your wrist and Sapnap leaned against the bed, as if asking Clay to make his next move. “Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour-“
“Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that the family of believers throughout the world is undergoing the same kind of sufferings,” Sapnap cantered without a thought. “It’s not even the right verse for this, stupid bitch,” he grumbled.
You cleared your throat, pulling your arm away from Clay and trying not to look as if you were slinking towards Sapnap. “You should leave,” you stated, Clay’s lips pursing at your words. “I need to rest.” Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Sapnap’s sly expression cutting into Clay.
After spending another night in the hospital, you were finally unlocking your apartment door and letting Sapnap help you out of your coat. You mumbled something about getting yourself a drink and he brushed you off, already doing it himself. Your mind was racing with questions after what you had witnessed between Clay and Sapnap. You hadn’t doubted the authenticity of Sapnap, but your mind still ran with what had happened to him. He handed you a water, sitting down on your couch as you paced slightly.
He broke into your thoughts. “Go on, tell me what you’re thinking,” he stated, unbuttoning his shirt slightly. You wanted to hex him about the fact that he probably already knew what was pounding against your temples to be asked.
You chewed on the inside of your cheek, rolling over your questions to censor some of them. “The bible’s been translated and reprinted so many times, how are you still…” you gestured with your hands, unable to explain where you were going with your statement.
He chuckled, brushing a hand against his chin. “It really doesn’t matter if it’s actually God’s word or not. It’s a guide, like an outline. Rules, I guess. Think about it like the Constitution.”
“I thought demons like… burned up when someone quoted the bible at them…”
His face fell a bit at this. “No, we just can’t read it,” his tone was almost regretful, sending guilt to pulse through your body because you had asked. “It’s like it’s in a completely different language, and each time I look at it, it shifts around the page. When you get dragged into hell, something happens with your eyes.” He huffed slightly, wetting his lips. “It's kind of like an isolation thing. He wants you to be completely aside from him.”
Your mind clicked, eyeing your heirloom display case. “Can I try something?” You asked, popping open one of the doors after he hummed in response. You fished out your grandmother’s rosary, the cross feeling almost heavy in your hands. You turned on your heel, bringing it closer to him before dangling it in front of him. His eyes drifted away from it, his gaze turning up to you. “Does this bug you?” You probed, making him snort. He took it in his hand, thumb caressing over the design.
He shook his head, chewing on his lip. “It’s a shameful thing really. I feel guilty whenever I look at this kind of stuff,” he muttered; you sat on the arm of his chair and looked over his shoulder. He turned, looping it around your neck. “Does it bug you?”
You held it away from your chest. “For different reasons, I guess.” You stood again, putting it back in its spot beside a photo of your grandfather. “Why’d you get kicked out?” You queried softly, peering over your shoulder.
He was watching you. “Maybe another time.”
“What about your childhood?” You asked. “Did you have one?”
“I know more about your childhood than I do my own. Why all the questions?” He countered with a soft laugh.
You shrugged. “I want to get to know you…” You mumbled, your hand drifting up to rest on your shoulder, feeling heat coming off of his scaring bite mark. “How do you know when to show up?”
He sighed, leaning his back against the chair and stretching his legs. “I can feel when you get anxious. Angels have some kind of block though, that’s why it took me so long to realize you needed me when that bastard was over here.” He shook his head almost like a new fire about Dream had been lit. His eyes flickered up to you. “Unless you weren’t scared.” You shook your head quickly at his joke. He chuckled. “How does it make you feel that I’m in your head sometimes?”
You approached him again. “Narcissistic,” you answered plainly, sinking to your knees before him. You ran your hands up his thighs, a smirk growing on his features as he sat up to be closer to you. “What happens after I die? Eternal damnation?” You questioned, as his hand went to brush against your arms.
He pressed his lips to your neck before digging his fingers into your hair as if he’d been waiting to touch you for days. You hummed as he kissed you, the slight scruff of his unshaven face feeling soft against your cheek. “You shouldn’t have to worry about that. I think I’ll make you immortal or something. Being with me should be enough damnation,” he jeered, making you laugh. “Most of my colleagues take the souls of their targets and leave, but I enjoy your company,” he teased.
“But you already have my soul, right?” The line felt strange coming from your mouth.
His lips brushed against yours. “There’s still an innocent piece of you that I haven’t tapped into. Everyone has it; I like it in you.”
Your eyebrows perked at this, fingers digging into his thighs to make him groan. “What do you mean?”
He kissed you briefly, actions getting needier the longer you were between his legs. “It’s completely pure. Untampered by sin or desire. When a demon gets it, they go feral,” he mumbled, nose pressing into the crook of your neck, teeth dragging across your skin.
You tilted your head to the side, fingers tracing over his zipper. “Take it from me,” you breathed, leaning into his touch.
“No,” he answered blatantly.
You moaned as his tongue slipped against your collarbones. “I want you to have it,” you continued, voice uneven. His fingers tugged at your hair.
His breath was warm against your shoulders. “I’ll take it after a few years. I don’t want it now.”
You pushed him away from you, his eyes already blown with lust as you looked into them. “You just said demons want it so badly. Take mine.”
He chuckled, hands dropping to your jaw. “No,” he repeated, voice light.
You sat back on your heels, looking up at him with a tilted expression. “Is mine not good enough for you?”
He wheezed. “No, it’s perfect. I just… After I take it, it’s like you’re dead. You’re not the same. Your humanity is gone.” He pulled you back up towards him. “I’ll take it when I’m ready to escort you to hell.”
You quipped an eyebrow. “Oh, so you just don’t want me to see your place?” You joked, making him roll his eyes. “Maybe Clay was right. What’s the verse about confession?”
His eyes darkened playfully. “For with the heart one believes and is justified, and with the mouth one confesses and is saved.” It was mind boggling how he could probably quote the whole Bible and was as… sinful… as he was. “Bring up Dream again, and I’ll make sure you can’t walk for a week.”
Your eyelashes fluttered. “You bargain for a fun game," you quipped.
He chuckled darkly. "It was more a light-hearted threat, dove," he muttered.
You sat forward and pressed your lips against his hungrily, letting him pull you into his lap as his fingers curled into the loose ends of your hair. Your fingers ripped at the buttons of his shirt, exposing his chest to you as he tugged at your own clothing. Your teeth dragged against his lips as his hips ground up against you, needy for friction.
You pushed your tongue into his mouth, moaning as his hands moved to your thighs, his blunt nails raking against your jeans. You rolled your hips against his lap, feeling him harden beneath you. He spread his legs further, coaxing you to grind against him as his hands pushed you down to rut against his leg.
You were breathless as you pulled away from him, one of his hands fisting in your t-shirt to bring you close to him, lips and tongue pressing against your neck. "I didn't tell you to stop riding my thigh," he commented darkly, bouncing his knee to make you moan.
Your hand wrapped around the wrist of his hand holding you in place, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth as heat spread across your body. He pulled your shirt over your head, your bare chest at his mercy. Your mind blurred at the sensation and the feeling of him sucking his mark into your skin, making it clear who you belonged to.
You moaned, digging your face into his neck as he rolled his hips against your leg. "Please, Sapnap. I need you," you whimpered, voice a soft whisper in his ear. He chuckled darkly, ripping your pants down your legs as you fumbled to unzip his slacks.
He pulled you onto him without warning, a groan leaving your lips as he suddenly filled you up. "Bold of you to beg for me after associating with that bastard," he bit, thrusting up into you. "I should tie you up and let you suffer for that."
You moaned at his dark tone, grinding your hips against him. Your lips ghosted against his as your cheeks began to feel warm from the stimulation. "I might like that," you jested, your sentence breaking with your voice as he harshly grabbed your hips, driving himself into you harder.
"You're lucky you're still weak," he nipped, voice swirling with lust and power. "I'd throw you over my knee for that comment." His fingers dug into your hips, grinding against you as you bounced on top of him. You moaned at his words. His hand snaked up to wrap around your throat, threatening to apply pressure as he continued to direct your movements, thrusting into you at a deep and reserved pace. "Dirty girl. You want me to punish you, don't you?"
When all you could do was mutter a small beg, he pulled you closer to him, lips meeting yours in a mess of hair, teeth, and tongue. He moaned into your mouth, the taste of his breath was addictive and bliss-inducing.
He pulled you off of him and onto the couch beside him, slipping his shirt the rest of the way off. "I'll fuck the angel lover out of you," he joshed, a hand coming down sharply across your ass; the pain making you moan his name, hands gripping the couch as he pressed your shoulders into the cushion.
He dragged your hips into the air, pushing into you again, rocking his hips against yours with a small grunt. His teeth were sharp against your skin as he pounded into you and an animalistic pace, your mind numbing at the feeling. He pushed your knees further apart to pump himself deeper into you.
You moaned as his weight settled on the hand pinning you to the couch, your hair sticking to your sweaty face as he spanked you again, hand gripping your irritated skin. "Good girl. Take it," he nearly growled, making your skin crawl with an added layer of pleasure. While his pace and mannerisms were ruthless, he was definitely holding back, knowingly going easy on you because of your already weak body. That didn't mean he wasn't reminding you of your sour attitude as he pulled your arm behind your back, his hips snapping against your own to firmly instill his name in your mind.
You reached for the arm rest, a grounding element for you as his motions drove you over the edge in a teeth gritting orgasm, boy flushing with goosebumps under his command. You rocked your hips back against him as he pulled out, jerking himself off instead of giving you the satisfaction of finishing him off.
You groaned as you turned to look at him. "Feeling okay?" He asked, pressing his lips to your shoulder blade. You shook your head quickly and his eyebrow quipped ever so slightly. "Good," he stated, pulling you up and onto the ground in front of him again. He grabbed your cheeks. "I still don't think you've learned," he muttered, leaning back into his previous position. "Blow me," he directed, tucking an arm behind his head. "And with the mouth, one confesses and is saved, remember," he taunted.
Your eyes flashed up to his devious expression as he leered at you from his commanding spot.
It was going to be a long night.
And you were ready for it.
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#incubus!sapnap#sapnap smut#sapnap x reader#sapnap imagine#sapnap au#sapnap x y/n#mcyt fanfiction#mcyt x y/n#mcyt smut#mcyt imagine#incubus au
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15 + buddie
15. "Shouldn't you be with her?" On ao3 here.
When Eddie is eleven, his class gets a new student. Her name is Maria Esparza and her family is from Arizona. She has dark curls that look like they would be soft to touch and a smattering of freckles across her nose and she’s so smart—always reading and forever raising her hand in class, always with the right answers—but she never acts stuck up about it.
He thinks she’s beautiful and when he gets home from the first day of school he promptly announces that he’s in love. He doesn’t understand why his mother laughs or why Sophia rolls her eyes and calls him an idiot when he’s perfectly serious.
He’s in love, he insists, and goes on believing it for three whole weeks until he gets up the courage to give Maria a flower at recess and she looks at him like he has two heads. The rejection smarts for a couple of days, but then he’s fine. So, he figures...maybe it wasn’t love after all.
Eddie is fifteen when he finds his eyes slipping too frequently to Diego Reed in autoshop, lingering on the other boy’s long, dexterous fingers, his forearms, the sharp edge of his jaw. Eddie can’t explain it, he just knows those stolen glances make him squirm, make him flush, make him feel too warm and like his very skin is too tight.
Diego steals Eddie’s first kiss two weeks before winter break, pushes him up against the back wall of the shop where they’re hidden by a truck and licks into his mouth with a confidence that Eddie can’t imagine ever having when he himself can’t even figure out what to do with his hands. But it makes his knees weak and leaves him breathless and panting when Diego pulls away with a smirk and tells him not to say anything.
It’s not love—for one thing, Eddie knows he’s not supposed to love boys, and for another, the only time he suggests it might be anything at all, Diego gives him the same look Maria had once upon a time and walks away—but it’s nothing he’s ever felt before. The next year, Angelica Phelan asks him to go to the winter formal and he gets to second base in the science lab when they slip away from the chaperones. It’s different from kissing Diego. But it’s just as good, he enjoys it just as much, and part of him is…relieved.
He doesn’t think about that too much.
Eddie is eighteen when he’s not watching where he’s going and runs directly into his future on the sidewalk. Thankfully, the only casualty is Shannon’s coffee, and after she snaps at him for not paying attention and he offers to replace her drink—well. They close down the coffee shop, emerging, startled, from conversation only when interrupted by a mildly disgruntled employee trying to lock up. Eddie walks home in a daze, Shannon’s phone number burning a hole in his pocket, and he’s simultaneously elated and terrified because it’s never been so easy being with someone, he’s never felt so seen so quickly. He’s old enough to realize that love at first sight is bullshit, but he thinks he could fall very fast.
He’s right.
They take things slow because Eddie wants to do things right, doesn’t want to risk confusing love with the heady cocktail of teenage hormones and sex. So he knows by the time he does fall into bed with her, eight months in, that he’s in love. Really in love, thinking about the future in love, factoring her into the mix when he thinks about what the hell he’s going to do with his life in love.
And then Shannon gets pregnant. And it’s too soon, he loves her but it’s too soon, and he’s terrified all over again—
He loves her though. He loves her. And she’s pregnant so—they get married. He wants to do the right thing.
At their wedding the readings are selections from Song of Songs and Corinthians.
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud....Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things...
With all due respect to St. Paul, Eddie doesn’t think he knew what the hell he was talking about. Or at least, maybe he did, but he was being pretty damn aspirational and left out a few things.
Because after the wedding…after the wedding, Eddie learns a lot more about love.
Love is beautiful, yes. But love is also…trying to do the right thing and fucking up. Love is fighting and knowing exactly what to say to cut the deepest and not always holding back. Love is forgiving, but after a point finding it difficult to forget.
Or maybe that’s not love, maybe that’s just marriage. Maybe it’s a little of both. Because love endures—sure. Love endured with Shannon even when trust was nonexistent, when their marriage was fractured, shattered pieces strewn across the floor ready to draw blood if either of them tried to pick them up.
Love isn’t enough. That’s what Eddie knows. Or maybe it is, maybe love would have been enough to fix what was broken if it hadn’t been his. Shannon’s gone, so they’ll never be able to have that conversation. He’ll never know the answer.
Love endures. Eddie kind of wishes it didn’t. It would make a lot of things a lot easier.
But…it’s fine. He’s fine. Shannon dies and he locks that piece of himself away and has no plans to ever fall in love again.
Then again, God has a funny sense of humor and never seems to resist an opportunity to be an asshole, so of course…he does. Slowly. Quietly. The threads slipping through the cracks in his walls so carefully that he doesn’t even notice until they’re twined around his heart, unspooling through his blood, through his veins with every pulse. Eddie doesn’t notice.
And then he gets shot and it’s like being hit by lightning, an electric shock of clarity down his spine, rooting him in place as he meets Buck’s eyes.
Oh.
Oh, fuck.
***
Eddie despises recovery.
He’s never been good at being still, at being useless, at being left alone with nothing but his own head. And maybe he’s not entirely alone—he has Christopher, after all, and Christopher is understandably a little clingy now that he’s home from the hospital—but Christopher sleeps and has play dates and spends time in his room and just in general isn’t in Eddie’s space every second of every day.
And then there’s Buck. Buck who offered to keep staying on the couch to take care of everything they needed when Eddie came home from the hospital. Buck who Eddie sent home to his own bed with promises to call if he needed help because having Buck so close after Eddie’s little realization was stirring him up, making everything a million times more difficult in his head. Buck’s still over frequently, but it’s less dangerous if he’s not staying overnight, if Eddie can’t wake up and be tempted to walk out to the living room and pull Buck into his bed. Not for anything sexual—he’s on too many medications and too immobilized for that even if it was remotely a good idea—but to be held. To feel wanted. To feel safe.
He knows Buck probably wouldn’t say no, wouldn’t think anything of it except that maybe he’s a little raw and fragile, which he is. Which is exactly why he can’t ask. So. Removing the temptation it is.
But. Being left alone with his own head is a terrible idea. He’s in pain because he lowered the doses of his pain meds so he would stop worrying about developing any dependency. He can’t sleep without waking up with screams trapped behind his teeth and the smell of blood and gunpowder in his nose. And he can’t stop thinking about Buck. About being in love with Buck. About wanting Buck. About whether he could ever have him or whether he’ll ever be okay enough to be in a relationship. About whether Buck could ever want him back or if he’ll ever feel safe enough to risk their friendship by even asking.
He broke up with Ana the second he was able to figure out how to do it without feeling like a complete dick. But he hasn’t told Buck that. He doesn’t know why.
And then there’s—
The key turns in the lock and Eddie starts, looking up from his place on the couch. Christopher is with his abuela for the night, and he didn’t expect—
“Hey,” Buck calls, stepping through the door. “I brought dinner.”
Eddie stares.
“What are you doing here?” He asks, before he can stop himself. “Shouldn’t you be with Taylor?”
—Taylor. Buck and Taylor. Which, Buck waited weeks to tell him about, hedging about why he wanted to know if it was okay to invite her to Eddie’s welcome home party. Which, Buck only did admit to when Eddie called one night at 2AM and Taylor answered Buck’s phone.
Eddie clears his throat, the question sounding a little too sharp and accusatory to his ears.
“I just meant,” he adds, softening, “I thought you said you had a date tonight.”
An odd look passes over Buck’s face.
“Isabel called me,” he replies. “She said you were by yourself, asked if I would check on you. We rescheduled, it’s fine.”
Eddie nods once and pulls the couch throw tighter around his shoulders with his good arm. A petty, possessive piece of him is pleased. That Buck’s there. That Buck would drop everything for him.
He’s always been wary of Taylor. Even way back when they first met and she was prowling around the station filming everyone and flirting with Buck. But now? Now he’s jealous, his stomach twisting at the very reminder that she has Buck the way Eddie wants him.
But at the same time…he hates that. Hates the jealousy, hates feeling possessive. Because what claim does he have over Buck’s affections? None. Especially not when he can’t even admit to loving him outside his head.
He hates it because he knows that more than anything, Buck deserves to be happy. And maybe Eddie could make him happy, but—
Even if Buck felt the same—and Eddie isn’t convinced of that, doesn’t have the arrogance to assume—what right does he have to say please, to say wait, to ask Buck to put his life on hold indefinitely while Eddie sorts through the tangled mess in his head in the hope that one day he’ll finally be ready? He can’t be that selfish. Especially not with Buck.
Buck deserves to be happy. Even if that’s with Taylor Kelly. Even if it means Eddie loses him.
He doesn’t get to be jealous.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Eddie replies quietly. “I’m fine.”
Buck sets the bag in his arms down on the coffee table.
“You don’t look fine,” he points out. “Actually, you look like shit. Isabel was right to call me.”
“I’m fine,” Eddie repeats. His heart pangs at the concern in Buck’s eyes. “Really, it’s okay—you should—you should—”
Go. Call Taylor back. Enjoy your date.
He wants to do the right thing. He really does. But the rest of the words refuse to leave his throat.
Buck shakes his head anyway. “I’m not going anywhere,” he insists. “So tell me what’s going on. How can I help?”
Eddie bites his lip. Drags his hand over his jaw before making a face. The messy, overgrown scruff is itchy and difficult to manage on his own, and the foreignness of it doesn’t help him feel grounded in his own body when he wakes up gasping in the middle of the night.
“It’s stupid,” he says.
“I’m sure it’s not,” Buck replies. “And I’m here, so you might as well just talk.”
I’m in love with you, Eddie thinks. And I can’t sleep. And I can’t shave. And everything hurts. And I just want to stop being afraid—
He swallows. He can’t say all of that. He can’t blow everything up that way.
So, he picks the easiest one.
“I can’t shave with my left hand and it’s driving me insane.”
Buck blinks. Then he laughs as the worry in his brow smooths out.
“That’s it?” He asks. “Well, that’s easy. I can do that. Come on.”
And that’s how Eddie winds up sitting on the bathroom counter with shaving cream all over his face while Buck wets a razor and steps between his legs.
His breath catches.
“You good?” Buck asks, his voice low. His eyes are soft and focused, and Eddie almost regrets everything because the proximity—god, the proximity. He’s been so cold since the shooting and Buck is so warm, heat spreading through Eddie’s body from every discrete point of contact. Buck tips his chin back and Eddie lets his eyes slip closed.
“Yeah,” he breathes. “I’m good.”
The razor drags along his skin. Neither of them say a word, the main sound in the room the drip of the faucet when Buck rinses the razor between passes. They’ve always been physical with each other, but this sort of thing is new. Intimate.
Eddie aches.
His eyes open a crack to watch. Buck’s lower lip is caught between his teeth, and having every ounce of that focus on him is…intoxicating.
I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.
Buck steps in closer, Eddie’s legs spread ever so slightly wider. A spark of heat flashes through him and he inhales sharply—Buck’s startled enough that his hand slips and the razor nicks Eddie’s jaw.
“Shit,” Buck swears. The razor clatters into the sink. “Shit. I’m sorry.”
Eddie opens his eyes the rest of the way. “It’s fine,” he assures. “What, you think I’ve never cut myself shaving before? It’s still better than I would have managed myself.”
“I’m—” Buck looks stricken, his fingers reaching out to gently cradle Eddie’s jaw only for him to snatch them back almost instantly, the tip of one faintly smeared with blood. His hand trembles.
“Buck,” Eddie says quietly. Buck’s eyes are fixed on the red smear and Eddie is sent back—
Watching his blood splash across Buck’s face and not realizing at first that it was his. Being half-delirious on the way to the hospital worrying that Buck had been hurt—
All this time, Buck’s been moving forward, pushing ahead, for Christopher, for him, for everyone, and Eddie knew he wasn’t entirely okay, knew he was fucked up from the moment in the hospital when he said I think it would have been better if I was the one who got shot, but since Eddie’s been home, Buck has seemed…better.
Maybe not. Maybe he’s been struggling to pretend as much as Eddie has.
Eddie twists around to grab the towel draped over the faucet and wets it enough to wash the rest of the shaving cream off his face, feels the sting of soap and water in the cut. And then he reaches out to grab Buck’s hand, wiping the blood off of his finger.
There’s something profane about blood staining skin. And something sacred in the act of washing it clean.
Eddie wonders if anyone helped Buck wash his blood off when he was in surgery. Taylor, maybe.
But no, that doesn’t feel right.
Buck probably did it himself. Alone.
“Hey.” Eddie squeezes Buck’s fingers. When Buck doesn’t look at him, he reaches out and curls his hand around the side of Buck’s neck, tips Buck’s chin up with his thumb to force him to meet his eyes. “Hey. It’s okay. I’m okay. No harm done.”
Buck breathes out shakily. His throat works, his face passes through a million stages—finally, his hands fall to the counter on either side of Eddie’s hips and his forehead drops to Eddie’s good shoulder. Eddie lets his hand slip around to the back of Buck’s neck, his fingers combing up through the short hairs there. He turns his head and he’s close enough to kiss the side of Buck’s, but he holds off. It feels like it would be too much. Too much when Buck doesn’t know how he really feels, what he really wants. But even just this—the closeness, the touch—is good. Needed. A balm to the itch under his skin.
When Buck turns his face into Eddie’s neck and inhales, Eddie thinks maybe Buck might need this just as badly.
“I’m okay,” he repeats, closing his eyes again as his fingers comb through Buck’s hair. “We’re okay. We’re okay.”
They stay like that for a long time. Buck’s phone rings out once, but neither of them moves to answer it. Eventually, Buck lifts his head and clears his throat roughly as he steps back.
Eddie’s hand falls away from Buck’s neck. He feels the absence keenly.
“You good?” He asks. Buck nods. His eyes are red.
“Yeah,” Buck replies. He pauses. Shakes his head. “No. But—can we just—can I just finish this for now? I want to finish this.”
Eddie watches him for a moment. Wets his lips. Then finally nods and passes over the shaving cream again.
“Sure,” he says. “I trust you.”
I love you.
Maybe…maybe eventually he’ll be braver. Maybe eventually, both of them will be free at the same time and he’ll be whole and healed, or at least something closer to it than he is now. Maybe eventually…love will be enough. Maybe.
For now, he has this.
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Could you do a F! Byleth and Felix “kiss to hide from bad guys”? :) You’re the best for doing these. Love them!
(got a little long, I’m sure you all don’t mind lol Post-Blue Lion’s route but I don’t think there’s any spoilers!)
17. Needing to kiss to hide from bad guys
The couple had been staring at Byleth all evening. Granted, as new Archbishop, many people had been staring at her since she arrived. But this couple prickled the hairs on the back of Byleth’s neck. They had yet to approached her, even when she was visibly free for introductions, so it couldn’t be they were looking for an opening for conversation.
In fact, Byleth realized all at once, they only stared when she was near Felix.
This was the first ball House Fraldarius had thrown in over a decade. The guest list was half a room long, or so the rumor went. Byleth, who hadn’t seen her students since the war’s end the year before, had been prepared to beg Seteth for a free week to attend--only to find out he had already made all her travel arrangements.
Meeting with Felix again had been a bit of a shock. Even now, standing beside him on the edge of the dance floor, Byleth couldn’t believe this was the boy who used to prowl the battlefield for the strongest opponent, waving his sword like he was already the best of the best.
Now Felix was Duke Fraldarius and stood tall with a regal coat and neatly arranged hair. His sword --just one sword-- was on his hip. There was no scowl on his face as he surveyed his crowded hall.
Likely that sword was far from dull. Counting on that, Byleth shifted closer. “Don’t look now, but we are being watched,” she mumbled.
Felix stiffened. “I’ll alert the guards.”
“I don’t think we need them, do we?”
And just like that, Felix “fight me” Fraldarius was back. He smirked, looking at her sidelong. “No, we don’t.”
“Follow me.” Byleth wound her arm through his as causally as possible and lead him from the hall. Out of the corner of her eye, Byleth saw the couple move to follow. The idea of being able to fight again, and alongside Felix no less, sent a thrill through Byleth. She had spent too long cooped up with her church duties. Judging by Felix’s expression, he was suffering similarly.
The courtyard outside the reception hall was empty. Lanterns lit the open space and benches were scattered about. It wouldn’t do to attack a pair of guests, Byleth reasoned, so they had to wait for the couple to make the first move. Forming a strategy, Byleth led Felix to the edge of the courtyard.
She backed him against a low wall and placed her hands on his shoulders. In the low light, she could see him frown. “What are you--”
“Stay on guard,” Byleth ordered in a whisper, for she had her back to the courtyard and thus had to trust him to keep an eye out. She stepped close, registered his look of surprise, and kissed him.
Felix responded by dropping a hand on her waist to pull her closer. He trailed his fingers lower, obviously searching, until he came to the sword hidden under Byleth’s dress. She was slightly insulted he’d had to check she was combat ready. Just because she couldn’t flaunt her weapon in this outfit...
Ignoring her irritation, Byleth closed her eyes and kept her focus on listening for their enemies. A duet of boots and heels were making their way closer as Felix’s lips moved over hers. If the couple really meant either of them harm, they would take this opportunity to strike-- while Felix and Byleth were ‘distracted’ by one another.
Byleth heard them stop. Felix tensed. Then, inexplicably, he deepened the kiss, opening his mouth to her, his tongue darting out to hers as if asking permission. Unsure of his strategy, she responded in kind, angling her mouth this way and that to really put on a show.
A voice said “Oh my...” and another voice shushed them. Then the heels and boots shuffled away. Byleth broke the kiss slowly, naturally, just in case they were still watching. Felix was breathless. Palms on his chest, Byleth could feel his heart pounding.
“Did you get a look at them?” Byleth whispered.
Felix nodded. He pushed her back from him but didn’t let her go completely. “Yeah. They’re my aunt and uncle.”
“Your--” Byleth cocked her head. “Why were they staring?”
“They want me to get married. Sooner rather than later, they think. As if there aren’t more important things to worry about.” Felix looked away. Byleth’s lips were still tingling as she watched him purse his own. “That’s why I... Well, if they think I’m involved with someone, maybe they’ll back off a bit.”
Byleth nodded. It certainly explained why they had barely paid her any mind when she was on her own. They had been staring at Felix, not her. And to think she had been ready to strike them down. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Felix cleared his throat. “We should get back. The host can only be gone so long.”
Duke Fraldarius was returning. Byleth found she didn’t like that much at all. “Or,” she said, stepping forward, “if we stay here longer, your aunt and uncle will truly be convinced.”
The smirk was back. Felix’s hands slid back to her waist. “Sound strategy,” he praised against her lips.
(kiss prompts!)
#sunshineonacloudydayfe3h#byleth eisner#felix hugo fraldarius#felileth#fire emblem three houses#fe3h#kiss prompts#different kind of bad guys#cant remember the fate of felixs uncle but lets pretend hes a busybody
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“Fuck You!””I Just Might.”
Bakugou Katsuki
word count : 7.1k holy hecc
[ ✘ (nsfw!) ]
themes : nasty nasties hehe.. choking, angry sex, dom bakugou (what’s new lmao), lots of sexy vengeful teasing, & almost being caught (? idk what to call that haha)
bio : You and Ground Zero are far from getting along in almost every aspect… except for getting off perhaps.
author’s note : wow another smut whodathunkit !!! This isn’t super romantic (Happy VDay my sweets!!) but goddamn if u thirstin today drink tf up bc the SALOON IS OPEN AND HERE’S THE SPECIAL ON DA HOUSE
side note: (Y/H/N) = your hero name, also the sidekick is 100% out my ass not real bc I didn’t feel like doing legit research heheh. also, all characters are aged up to long past UA-grad in this (so everyone is 18+!!)
tagging: @lordexplosionsextra per request -- hope you enjoy bb :) happy vday!
also available on AO3 here
─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───
🄰rms crossed, chest puffing in defiance, your gaze shoots daggers into his stupid smirk. “I’m not your fucking sidekick, Boom-Boy, so you can crawl back into the putrid swamp you came from and take your damn paperwork with you!”
“H-hey now,” Bakugou’s sidekick laughs nervously, hands waving in front of him as he shakes off the jab you just took at him inadvertently.
Bakugou laces his gloved fingers over his lap and kicks back in his chair, straightening his legs so his boots rest on the table across from you. “Listen, Princess, you know the rules. Whoever gets the final blow doesn’t have to do the nitty-gritty shit,” he answers, shrugging nonchalantly.
“You only got the finisher in ‘cuz I was busy doing everything else! You pop in at the last second and get all the credit and no busywork? Fuck off,” you fume, hooking your foot around the leg of his chair and ripping it toward you. Bakugou’s eyes widen as he falls backwards, tumbling onto the hard floor. He grimaces at you from the floor, vermillion eyes ablaze.
“It’s not my fault you’re too stupid to strategize! Don’t start shit you can’t fucking finish yourself!” He barks, voice spiking with fury. Ouch, that one stung your pride a little.
“You’re such an asshole,” you snarl, shoving the stack of papers off the table. The pages swirl in the air and scatter onto the tiled floor, some landing on the instigator’s lap. Bakugou’s palms crackle as his breath is stolen at your audacity. Your sidekick lets out a startled noise, jumping at the sudden popping. Bakugou’s sidekick has his hand on his temple, attempting to rub out the headache forming at this mess.
Why did you two have to hate each other so much?
The two sidekicks stand stiffly against the wall as you shove by them, Bakugou glaring at your ass as your hips swing around the doorway, out of his sight.
It’s late, the purple sky littered with the lights of the lively city. The villain you— or Bakugou, you suppose— had taken down earlier had been the last job of the day and you’re tired of the stupid bullshit he always serves you when the two of you work together.
Usually your agency kept the two of you on opposite boundaries of the patrol area, but you had begrudgingly needed help with this last offender of the day. Your quirk didn’t do incredibly well against villains with close-combat styles, but you could still manage. Unfortunately, the guy that had been causing mayhem earlier was beyond powerful up close, and he had landed a hit that knocked the wind out of you and made you slower than usual. It wasn’t a major injury or anything, but you’d probably have a nasty bruise on your torso after you took off this goddamn gimp-suit of a costume. Luckily, you had visited the in-house, agency healer in the infirmary upon arrival from the job, and they had sucked the nasty welt off your skin and redirected it somewhere else as their quirk allowed. The pain subsided mostly, just a bit sore where the bruise would’ve been.
You close the door to your office gently, a heavy sigh releasing as you make your way toward the desk. It was almost quitting time, but you still had to finish up the paperwork from the other case you had dealt with this morning. Clicking on the desk lamp, you breathe in to calm your frayed nerves, eyes closing briefly as you try to find the energy to finish your work.
The door bursts open, slamming almost immediately and tearing you out of your attempt at meditation. Bakugou stands in there, steam practically billowing from his nose and scarlet eyes flashing with agitation.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” He snarls, prowling toward you with an accusatory, gloved finger raised.
“Excuse me?” You quip, irritation revitalized almost instantly. “Who do you think you are, storming into my office after the shit you pulled today?”
He stops in front of you, glowering down at you. You turn your face slightly, your eye level meeting his chest and not wanting to look at that. He was kind of muscular up close like this, you’d never noticed because you’d always created the most distance as possible between you two.
“Oh, you mean me saving your ass? Yeah, my bad, woman,” he growls, letting his gaze linger on the way your eyelashes kiss your cheek bones as you scoff, eyes closed in annoyance.
You glare at him, infuriated. “I didn’t need your fucking help! Did I ask you to come?”
He takes his time to reply, stare holding your attention briefly before he licks his lips. “No, but your sidekick did.”
The sentence is like a cold slap to the face, and you push him backwards with newfound anger. “Don’t fucking lie to me Bakugou,” you seethe, hands clenched into fists. “If you’re gonna lie at least come up with something believable!”
“Tch. She did call me, brat, and she begged me to come to your rescue like you were a goddamn damsel in distress,” he grunts, breaking eye contact with you as he hunches slightly, strong hands shoved into his pockets. Bristling at the refreshed anger rippling off of you, he already knows what you’re going to say. “She said that shitty villain got his hands on you, yeah right you had it under control.”
You don’t know what to say. You can’t really refute that the assailant had managed to hurt you, but you still wish Bakugou hadn’t heard that information. The asshole already thinks he’s the hottest shit in the agency, you really don’t want to give him any evidence of your weaknesses. So you sit on the edge of your desk, sighing once again. “I can handle one hit, dipshit,” you mutter. “It’s already healed anyway.”
“Yeah, yeah, you can take care of yourself,” he grumbles, gaze flickering to your grim expression before he looks intently at the picture on your wall.
The silence that ensues is uncomfortable. You had never really talked to Bakugou before-- usually every time the two of you were together you were having a shouting match, throwing insults back and forth relentlessly. You aren’t really sure how to reply, and you absolutely did not want to acknowledge that he had come to your rescue when you actually needed him.
Bakugou is as silent as you are. He wonders where you’d been hit momentarily, before pushing off the thought because god forbid he show emotions. He’d already had his fill of feelings for the day. He sure as hell would never tell a soul, but the second he had seen your sidekick’s name flash across his phone screen this evening, his stomach dropped like he’d been the one to receive the villain's punch, not you. Shoving away the intrusive thought, his trademark scowl surfaces to his face.
“You know, I still haven’t heard a ‘thank you’.”
His irritating voice slices through the tension in the room, and you bristle at his impudence. “Gee, Ground Zero,” he ruffles at his hero name, a frown bending his thin lips,” thanks so much for stealing my job and taking the credit for it too, and really— thank you so much for the paperwork as well. I’m just so grateful.”
“Tch. Don’t be so bitchy, you know I saved your ass today so just fess up and thank me already. You’ll feel better once you spit it out,” he provokes, thick arms crossing over his chest.
“Fuck you,” you hiss, scowling at his smug face. The snarl that breaks his lips is ignored as your eyes turn to slits directed toward him.
He laughs at your malicious look, mouth transforming into a sleazy grin. He can’t stop himself even though he’s a tad hesitant, but his bold and loud nature wins out and he says cooly, “I just might.”
You gape at him, the smile on his mouth escalating your agitation. “W-What?” You choke out meekly, palms pushing you off the desk to stand upright.
He has the gall to grin, taking a step toward you. His heavy boots clunk against the floor, and you move backwards only to bump into the desk again. You cast a futile glare at the desk, and when you look back at him, he’s looming over you. “I think it’s time we acknowledge this thing we have, (Y/H/N).”
Your lips part in surprise, the blush tainting your cheeks slightly. “I have no idea what you’re referring to,” you stammer. Your arms crossing over your chest, he can’t help but notice how your breasts squish upwards, cleavage visible through your skin-tight costume.
“I think you do,” he chuckles with a low voice, gaze regarding the pink pigment gracing your cheeks. He savors it, lips curling into a smirk. His hands meeting the edge of your desk as he leans in, his body brushes against your arms. You rear back, shock evident on your face with lips parted as he tips his head to the side. He cages you in, an unfamiliar look simmering in his crimson irises. “You can feel the tension between us too. I know it, Princess.”
You’re once again at a loss for words. What the hell is happening right now? You think, mind reeling desperately to change the subject. “I hate it when you call me that,” you spit out, looking up to catch his intense stare. It wasn’t dishonest, you hated his pet name for you. Just because you weren’t as careless as him, he’d tacked the snide nickname to you awhile back because he knew it pissed you off. “It’s a stupid name that only your idiot brain could come up with.”
Take the bait, please take the bait.
“The way you treat me like I’m beneath you, what else can I call you?” His breath fans against your cheek and you hate to admit it’s fresh and minty, not at all as nasty and troll-like as you’d convinced yourself it would be. “But I guess that’s ‘cuz you really wouldn’t mind having me under your lap, right?”
You gasp at his crude suggestion, knees smacking together as your thighs clench automatically. “Fuck off, Bakugou,” your voice trembles slightly, your palms hesitantly landing on his chest. Your attempt to push him is less than half-hearted, and he smiles at your crumbling resolve.
His fingers skim along the small of your back, perching his hand on your waist. You can feel its warmth through your costume and his glove, and your body bends into his hold on its own accord, your ass pushing back while your chest grazes his. He exhales harshly, his other hand docking on the top of your stiffened thigh, thumb falling into the curve between your legs. You wish it was higher up, and the recognition of your craving makes your blush a few shades darker.
“What was that?” He snickers, lips brushing your earlobe as his nose pushes away your cascading hair. He didn’t expect you to smell so good after a long day of fighting crime.
Your fingers grab onto his costume, clawing at the material and you’re not sure if it’s in anger or desire. But Bakugou is sure, his fingers rubbing your waist as he glances at your restless hold on his costume. “Oh, bite me,” you spit out, your bottom lip caught between your teeth.
His lips touch your jaw, and you can feel the sneer that rests so prominently there. “Manners, Princess… say please,” he chides, tongue poking out to trace the soft skin there.
A quiet moan escapes you and Bakugou groans loudly in response. He draws his face back to lock eyes with you, stare taught with the tension the two of you have built over all this time.
“You gonna tell me you’ve never thought about us fucking?” He inquires, eyes darting to your lips and returning to your gaze. “All those times we riled each other up, every time we pushed each other’s buttons over and over— you gonna say you never thought about getting me to shut the hell up by any means necessary?”
Your eyes roll in your head, from a combination of lust and disbelief. You cannot believe you're letting him hold you like butter in his hot hands, melting you and licking you up. You glare at him, his lips just close enough to distract you. You weren’t going to let him mould you like putty anymore. “I bet you wanna think that I have, Bakugou,” you whisper, and he looks at you with mild surprise adorning his handsome face. Your blush infects him immediately, a flush spreading over his own cheeks and he’s suddenly very glad his costume has a mask. “You think I haven’t noticed you checking me out every second of the day, Boom-Boy?”
He seems at a loss for words as your wrists wrap around the back of his neck, pulling his face down and level to yours. His brow bursts into a sweat as one of your hand curls around his costume’s throat piece, trailing south and following the delicious line between his pecs down his abs. Your fingernails scraping through his costume, his skin prickles as he gasps. Your lips meet his stubbled jaw, mirroring the action he had performed to you a moment ago. His fingers tighten their hold on you, his body jerking almost invisibly at the contact. “You ogle at me much more, little Miss Priss,” he says cockily even though his voice sounds forced.
It was your turn to curl your lips into a sultry smile, half-lidded eyes regarding his shocked, eager stare. “I thought I told you not to tell your phony lies, Bakugou,” your murmur against his jawline, hand curving around his pelvis and to drag down his outer thigh. “It’s a sin to lie, you know.” Your fingers skim the very ridge of the bulge in his pants, teasingly tracing the outline and watching him close his eyes, his grin seeming strained.
“You know a lot about sins, then?” he pants, sliding his hand down from your waist slowly, fingertips stretching eagerly to push into your plush ass.
You nip at his skin playfully, and he shudders in response. Your raise your head to meet his hungry gaze, your coy smile still beaming. “I might… You want me to demonstrate my knowledge?” Your tongue parts your lips, eyes falling to his slightly agape mouth. Your breath tangles, and his eyelids flutter shut as your lips graze.
The hand on your thigh grips your flesh tighter and you whimper, your mouth tingling at the harder contact of the kiss. His other hand slides south and cups your tailbone, calloused fingers bringing your ass toward him. The sudden movement surprises you, and you grab onto his neck, making his chin dip down as your hips slide into his crotch. You clash into him, your lips colliding as sparks fly through the air.
You both moan into each other’s mouths, the kiss desperate and hot. Your tongue pokes out to probe his bottom lip and he gladly receives your wet muscle with his own. Your legs trapped between his shuffle as you wiggle your hips, savoring his fiery hands gliding over your figure.
Bakugou’s hands are firm but warm, caressing your waist and hips and heating them up. He growls as your hips buck against his, rubbing the tent in his baggy pants. One of his hands slides along the smooth fabric of your hero suit, cupping the swell of your breast in his large palm as his thumb runs over your nipple. You throw your head back, and his lips gladly blaze the trail of your throat with a scorching urgency. Your fingers move to his arm pieces, clamoring at the top of the machinery near his elbows. He gladly slides the gadgets off, placing them in one of the chairs facing your desk while he rips off his black gloves. He hastily throws the neck piece onto the seat as well before he turns and captures your lips once more.
When his fingers return to your hips, you can feel the true heat of his burning palms through your bodysuit, making you arch into him wantonly. His tongue battles yours fiercely, both of you fighting for dominance as his hands glide up to your waist and fumble with your belt. You can feel his rigid muscles through his thin tank top, your hands wandering greedily underneath the right material to touch his smooth skin.
Bakugou smirks as your belt falls onto the desk, hands falling and grabbing onto your ass cheeks eagerly, pulling you closer to his body. You take the chance to shove your tongue into his mouth and he groans at the impact, jaw slackening as he allows your tongue to take control. He grinds into you slowly, making your thighs tremble with apprehension. His mouth detaches from yours, and the string of saliva connecting your tongues is sliced as his shirt flies through the air. You drink in the sight of his naked chest, muscles swelling and flexing, tapering down into a delicious V that disappears underneath his belt.
You grab the belt, yanking his body close to yours again and sighing as your lips meet once more. “You’re really man-handling me Princess,” he comments amusedly into your lips as your fingers grapple with his belt, toying with the latch.
“Shut the fuck up,” you snarl, teeth sinking into his bottom lip and harnessing a moan from him,” and touch me already, pussy.”
His vermillion gaze ignites, mouth crashing onto yours as his fingers slide underneath the swell of your ass. He lifts you like you’re but a paperweight, and you moan as your legs wrap around his hips. His tongue crushing yours, his kisses so intense that your head leans back at the sizzling force. You jump slightly as your ass meets the cushion of your desk chair, eyes opening to see he’d rounded the desk and knelt in front of you. His knees on the ground, he looks up at you haughtily, hands coasting slowly down your legs toward your center. “Is this where you want me?” he feigns innocence and you glare down at him. His thumb hooks the crotch of your leotard, and he shoves the material to the side roughly, making you gasp.
The cool office air greets your cunt, making it throb even more in arousal. “Bakugou,” you whine as he watches your face, shifting your hips in a feeble attempt to catch his attention. He slinks down, lips brushing over your panties softly as he watches you squirm. He grins against the black lace, thumb curling around the skinny part of the thong over your asshole, making you shiver.
“You’re right Princess,” he grumbles, tongue gliding over the wet spot that had leaked through the material, inhaling your scent pervertedly as he closes his eyes in triumph. Your bottom lip is prisoner to your teeth again as you watch his teasing movements, unable to tear your eyes away from him. “Sometimes when you’ve got me all riled up, I jerk off thinking about how good your bratty little ass would look bouncing on my dick.” You can’t help but whimper at his confession, rolling your hips against his mouth in desperation.
He smirks up at you, crimson irises glittering with savory mischief. His hands snake around your thighs, clutching onto the junction they meet your hips with vigor. He pushes your body down into the seat so you can’t wriggle any longer, and he feels your cunt clench against his chin when he nips at your panties, teeth dragging along your clit. You wail his name again lowly, harsh breaths ripping through your lungs.
He growls in response, thumb ripping the lace to the side and exhaling at the sight of your swollen cunt, grin broadening at the excessive glaze that he had caused. “Fuck,” he laments, tongue poking out to graze your clit experimentally. Satisfied with the way your hand flies to cover your mouth, he places a teasing kiss there. “You know,” he murmurs against your slick nerve,” More than once I’ve wondered how hot and sweet your cunt must be, hiding underneath this skimpy little leotard.”
You let out a shaky breath, eyebrows cinching as you glower down at him, meeting his pleased gaze. “Why don’t you find out for yourself then?” you hiss, baring your teeth at his infuriatingly proud smirk.
“Bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you, Princess?” Bakugou’s tongue glides along the side of your slit, making you stiffen and shut your eyes tightly. Of course he’s a fucking tease.
A knock sounds at your door to pull you out of your collapsing mind, and you sit up straight, eyes wide as Bakugou’s sidekick peeks into the room.
Bakugou stills, unsure as to who it is, staying hidden behind your desk and still holding your hips harshly.
“Hey Y/N, have you seen Ground Zero possibly? He’s stormed off as usual and I can’t find him anywhere,” the sidekick says, blinking at you with unsuspecting eyes.
“Oh, H-Hikaru,” you gulp, hesitantly placing your hands on your desk. Bakugou is quiet underneath you but you’re preparing yourself for the little shit to pull something stupid.
And he does.
Bakugou’s tongue slips between your folds suddenly, licking a large stripe from the bottom to the top of your slit, sucking in your clit and rolling his tongue around it brazenly.
“Oh my god!” you yell, hand slapping over your mouth too late. Hikaru looks at you incredulously, regarding your pink cheeks and sweaty forehead. “I can’t believe him! W-what an asshole!” you pant as Bakugou sucks harder, your pussy clenching onto itself. “He probably left so you’d do the paper… mmm, paperwork for h-him.” You abs are flexed so hard, straining in order to restrain the mess of moans that Bakugou is summoning.
Hikaru finds your tone a bit peculiar, but he continues anyway. “Uh, probably… Are you okay Y/N? You look kind of… sick,” he comments, head tilting to the left. “Did you get that jab checked out yet? I can take you to the infirmary if you want. If it’s bad I can drop you off at your place, too.”
Bakugou doesn’t like that suggestion. He doesn’t need to lick his fingers, your drenched core welcomes the digits instantly. Your walls accommodate his middle and ring finger eagerly and he smirks as they sink into you, knuckle-deep.
“Yes!” you shriek, quickly shooting a glare down at the blonde, your hair covering your face from his sidekick. “I mean— yes, I had it checked out and I’m f-fine, thank you for the concern, Hikaru,” you explain, a forced smile on your lips as you silently beg him to leave.
Bakugou stretches his fingers inside you, scissoring them to coat them in your essence before he puts them together again. His wrist strained in the forced position, he flicks the digits back and forth, almost laughing in glee as he recognizes that soft velvety spot deep within you.
Hikaru blinks at you again before he nods half-heartedly. “Okay… Well if you need me, I’ll be in the conference room doing Bakugou’s job,” he laughs, tucking out of the door and closing it finally.
“He wishes he could do my job, fucker,” Bakugou grunts, mouth immediately returning to satiating your needy hole.
You sag into the chair, a quiet moan floating out of you as Bakugou continues to finger you, his lips slurping up your clit once more. Shooting a heated look at him, you bare your teeth at him, and choke out a hiss,” Fuck you!”
Bakugou only chuckles, savoring the way your cunt throbs around his digits. “I didn’t think you were so impatient, brat.” He doesn’t slow his actions though, knuckles ramming against your skin. He enjoys the way you gasp as he moves your thigh over his shoulder, his tidy fingernails pressing into your trembling leg. “You taste pretty good, Y/N. I guess it’s just your personality that’s bitter,” he remarks, smiling against your sex as his fingers slide out of you.
You toss him a pointed look as he wipes his chin with the back of his hand. “Excuse you, Boom-Boy,” you chide,” only my friends get to call me that!”
“Tch, I get to eat your pussy but I can’t call you by your name? You really know how to make a guy work for it,” he scoffs, sounding mock-hurt, and now menacing over you.
You frown in response but it quickly melts into a smirk. “Don’t worry, Katsuki,” you observe how he closes his eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching as his hand turns into a fist,” I’ll return the favor.” You tentatively place your hands on his belt, undoing the clasp and resting the heel of your palm against his clothed, hard cock. You gently undo the fastenings around his thick thighs, placing the belt with his grenades onto your desk cautiously. You weren’t trying to be blown up just for some dick.
He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of both his black pants and underwear, annoyed with you taking your sweet ass time. His bare cock springs free, greeting your hungry gaze with an inviting sheen of sticky precum trailing down his hard length. You gawk at the sight, genuinely surprised to find he was so… well equipped.
“So this is why you’re so cocky, huh?” you state, eyes following the protruding vein running the entirety of his full, flushed member.
He barks out a laugh which dies in his throat as you press a chaste kiss to his weeping pink tip. Your tongue flat against your bottom lip, you slide his cock into your mouth and moan at the salty, provocative taste of him. His length almost as thick as your throat itself, you gag gently as you take him whole into your mouth before quickly pulling back. You place your hand around the base of his now-slick cock, your mouth sucking and bobbing on the top half of him as you jerk your fist at the same tempo.
Bakugou is much louder than you expected him to be, and the way his erotic, serrated breath is tearing from his lungs makes your pussy clench in desire. His chest heaves, the bulging muscles on his torso tense underneath his surprisingly smooth skin. Your other hand wanders up his abs, enjoying the way the ridges between them are so defined. He growls as your finger rubs over his nipple, his hand catching your wrist in a tight grasp but not doing anything to stop the action.
You purr on his cock, slippery hand leaving the base to cup his balls, eliciting a hiss from him as he sucks air in between his gnashing teeth. Confidence torrenting through your veins at his reaction, your jaw drops as wide as you can muster, your mouth gliding further down his length.
Bakugou’s empty hand collects the hair falling around your face, holding it for you as you weave back and forth. His jaw falls slack as the head of his dick rubs the back of your throat, summoning a soft gag that makes your mouth vibrate around him. Your wrist hurts a little from his tight grasp, but the way his fingernails dig into your skin makes your core shiver in delight. “Shit, Y/N.”
You don’t bother to correct him this time, thumb running over his balls just hard enough to make him shake a bit, savoring the way he is panting and quaking before you. The hand grasping your hair nimbly shimmies closer to your skull, his fingers twisting almost too tightly onto the roots of your hair. You allow him to coax your mouth closer, his arm guiding your face to take his length deeply. A low growl tears from the bottom of his lungs as you lock eyes with his impassioned stare. His hips nudge smally against your lips, his tongue poking out to run over his lip as he pulls back and glides back inside your sweltering throat.
You moan forcefully, savoring the the strangled noise that slithers from his now gaping mouth. Taking initiative once more, you begin to jerk your neck back and forth quickly, wincing as his grip tightens on your wrist. Bakugou tries his best to repress his moans but the way your bratty throat welcomes his hard cock makes him see tiny, fizzling explosions when he closes his eyes.
His hips rear back, and you almost fall off the chair as you lean in to close the distance. He catches you easily, hot hands landing on your shoulders as his gaze locks with yours, inexplicable desire sizzling between the two of you. His hands fly down to collect your ass cheeks, and he picks you up just to place the apple of your cheeks on the desk behind him. Teetering on the edge of the wooden furniture, your legs wrap around his waist, and his lips slam onto yours again. His fingers frantically running over your super suit, he snarls in frustration when he can’t find the zipper.
You laugh at him mockingly, catching his eye as you pinch the zipper on the side of your neck, the material shrinking away immediately with elasticity. He watches as your breasts pop out of the silky, neoprene-like fabric, bouncing with hardened, pink nipples standing perkily to greet him.
“No bra?” He reprimands but his time sounds more turned on than accusatory. “Princess, you’re so naughty.” His hands fly to your tits, groping the soft and supple flesh with fervor. You unzip the rest of your side, pulling your arms out of the sleeves and carefully angling your hips so you can slide the suit off into a crumpled pile on the ground. In just your tiny little thong now, Bakugou closes the gap, pressing flush against your clothed center and grinding his wet cock against your damp underwear.
Your head tilts back and you whine, gasping as his mouth slides along your throat, hot tongue caressing the tender skin. “Please, Bakugou,” you wail, his thumbs rubbing your sensitive nipples hastily.
“God, you must be tight if you’re this high-strung,” he purrs next to your ear, enjoying the way your cunt clenches noticeably underneath your panties. Speaking of those… his fingers snatch the delicate lace to the side, his other hand grabbing his dick and running his swollen tip over your slit. He dips the head into your hole but recedes instantly, brushing it over your glistening trove before repeating the action. The teasing has your head spinning, harsh pants falling from you both and mingling in the thin divide between you. He can’t take it any longer, his hips snapping into yours as his dick easily disappears halfway into your steamy, aching cunt. “I fucking knew it,” he grunts, jaw clenching as your velvety walls embrace his girth, your cry of pleasure music to his ears. “Your cunt is so snug around my cock.”
His hips push into your thighs further, only stopping once he’s balls-deep, sunk completely in your flittering sex. Hand leaving your thong to the side of your cunt, he grabs your hip and pulls your ass close. You groan at his cock nestling even deeper into your sopping hole, and your hips jerk against his as his hand curls around your lower back, securing itself so his fingers coil snugly around your waist. You choke on a sob as he thrusts into you again, his thick member prodding you in a very private place.
“You better fuck me already,” you growl at his pace that was testing your nerves, ready to be fucked into submission. Not that you were going to go down without a fight.
He chuckles cockily, a sly grin on his lips. “Your wish is my command.” His hips slam against yours and your teeth sink into his shoulder, muffling a scream of desire. He ruts into you with ease, your arousal making it almost effortless for his cock to spread the tense walls of your desperate pussy. His free hand claps against the swell of your ass, the noise slicing through the air and you scowl at him. It’s like he wants to be caught.
Ragged breaths tumble from the both of you, your saliva trickling down his chest as your teeth are still fastened into his broad shoulder. “F-Fuck, Bakugou,” you keen, each time his pelvis pressing against you tightly forcing your vision to shake.
“Katsuki,” he huffs, his left hand pushing your chin up to capture your half-lidded gaze. “Say it, Princess— fuck, tell me who’s making you feel so good,” he demands, eager to hear his name leave your lips in such an intimate way once more. His hips change tempo from his fast and hard pace to a slower, more sensual rolling motion, milking the desired reaction out of you.
The novel movement pressing deliciously against your clit, your unabashed whimpers fall onto his eager ears. Your fingers raise to pinch the top of his black eye mask, pushing the material up over his forehead so it tucks his ash blonde hair back. Looking into his eyes and admiring his uncovered, handsome features, you shoot him a sinful pout. “Ka— ah! Oh, Katsuki,” you gasp, your hands flying up to claw desperately at his muscular back.
Bakugou relishes in your lewd reply, eyes rolling back into his skull in delight. He lets out a gravely groan, increasing the tempo to a needy, impatient pace. The extra stimulation on your clit makes your legs shiver around him, your heels digging into the plush top of his ass. His hand slides back to grip around the back of your neck, leaning in to take the side of your ear between his teeth. His fingers on your throat press into your skin, his thumb pushed into your racing pulse. Hand squeezing just the right amount, it becomes pleasurably harder to breathe and you pant, tongue poking out as you wanton gaze meets his. “I’m gonna make you cum so hard Y/N,” he growls, almost snarling at you as your body bounces against his, watching your hair dance and shake around the erotic expression on your face.
“Eat shit,” your nose twitches in annoyance,” You’re gonna burst any minute now.” Your cheeks are dusted in a telling flush, your body feeling heat spread throughout. His hand tightens on your throat and you moan, loving the way your breath tears slightly.
“You’ve been clenched down on me this whole time,” he reasons, lips close enough so you can feel his ragged breath. “You can’t deny how your body reacts to me, even if you don’t want it to.”
You roll your eyes. Even buried between your legs at a time like this, he insists on pushing your buttons. “Oh, you want me to clench, Katsuki?” you inquire, tone confident in contrast to the wanton shake of your body.
He shivers as his name leaves your sinful lips, and the breath in his lungs is sucked out of him as you clamp your pussy as tight as you can around him. His hips stutter and you revel in the lustful way his face contorts, his eyes screwing shut temporarily.
When his vermillion eyes open again, his predatory gaze adding wood to the fire between your legs. “Bad girl,” he admonishes, an unruly grin lifting the corners of his mouth. His hips slam against yours, railing into you at an unimaginable speed and harshness. “That’s a cute try, Princess, but you’re gonna cum before me no matter what.”
You can’t even respond as he thrusts into you, your pants ripping through the air and mingling with the quick slapping noise echoing through the room. You hate to let him win but you can’t hold yourself off from your impending orgasm, the pressure in your core multiplying at an alarming rate as each thrust deliciously stimulates your deepest, most secret place.
“Katsuki,” you whimper, your spine arching into his touch while his hand keeps its hold on your throat. “I’m so close, please,” you beg, your toes curling forcefully as your eyes roll back.
Bakugou smiles at your submissive tone, purring out, “That’s better.” His hand leaving your throat to rub his finger on your clit, your body trembles in his hands. He leans into you and his lips conquer yours passionately, tongue darting in between your lips to caress with yours. His tongue pulls back as he takes your bottom lip between his teeth, his wolfish stare daring you to follow his ensuing command. “Cum for me, Y/N.”
Your body tenses as you reach your climax, but Bakugou continues to assault your g-spot mercilessly. Your arms shake in euphoria, nails pressing in to form desperate scratches on his skin. It feels like he is snapping you in two, and you absolutely love it. Tears prick the corner of your eyes as you wail out, relief washing over your limbs feeling like ice cold lemonade on a torrid summer day.
Pussy fluttering around his cock so deliciously, Bakugou moans at the new intensity. He swears as he keeps going, despite his own orgasm approaching. The image of you squirming in ecstasy underneath him makes him gasp immodestly. His hands clasp down on your hips roughly, making it even easier for him to pound into your soaked cunt as his teeth release your reddened lip. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight,” he huffs, sweat glistening on his built chest as he thrusts into you particularly hard. “So much better than I could’ve ever imagined, holy shit, Princess.” He moans a little loudly, not holding anything back anymore. He is so fucking close.
“Katsuki, please,” you sob, your g-spot still being pummeled relentlessly, never getting a break from his assault and dragging your orgasm out longer than you thought possible. “I want your cum on me so bad!”
Bakugou throws his chin into the air, harsh breaths floating out as the flesh of your hips turns white under his oppressive grip. He grunts as he pulls out, his searing streaks of cum spurting out forcefully, shooting up to lace over your tits and down your stomach. His thighs tremble as he snarls, his first immediately jerking his cock as more of his cum gushes out of the tip. He gasps for breath, and he groans as your lips press to his captivatingly. He leans into your kiss, savoring the feeling of your sweet lips against his.
You shift in his hands, the once-rough palms now sliding over your skin carefully, fondling your body as his lips nibble at your own. You entertain it for a moment, nails trailing down his chest, thumbs rubbing into the ample muscles beneath his skin.
He pulls back, a lazy grin and satisfied eyes regarding you. “Well, that was hot,” he admits, eyebrow quirking upwards as he tries to even his choppy breath. You pull a handful of tissues out of the box on the corner of your desk, handing him a few which he gladly wipes over his drenched member. You sigh in content, head leaning back as you regulate your own breathing.
Bakugou makes you jump in surprise as he runs a new tissue along your torso, cleaning up his mess. You eye him playfully, secretly relishing in the way he is so considerate. He shuffles back a step like he can feel you appreciating his uncharacteristically caring actions, tugging up his underwear and tucking himself in with a smug grin on his lips.
“It was pretty good,” you say casually, sliding off the desk and pausing as your still-tingling core shifts, making you realize how tender you already are.
Bakugou rolls his eyes, handing you your costume from the floor. You snatch it out of his grasp condescendingly, glaring at him as you step into the leotard with quivering legs. “Pretty good?” he barks, eyeing your slow movements. “You’re still shaking, Princess.”
You shoot a glare at him, arms slipping into your costume and tucking your breasts away from his lingering eyes. “Fuck you.”
“You just did.” He replies smugly, and you ponder relieving the sudden urge you have to slap the look off his face.
“Whatever, Boom-Boy,” you quip, zipping up the side of your suit.
Bakugou chortles as he pulls on his shirt, fastening the loops around his thighs. “By the way,” he looks sideways at you with a smirk. “You came first, so I won.”
“You were, like, ten seconds behind me,” you scoff.
“After you, nonetheless,” he almost chirps, savoring in the irritation visibly building in you. He slips on his gloves, sliding his arms into his grenade-looking arm pieces. “Do I get a prize, Princess?”
You glance at his suggestive crimson eyes, pondering the idea of it. “You can choose the place next time,” you wink at him, clipping the belt on your waist with finality.
He seems pleased with the answer, his smirk widening as he steps closer to you. Your fingers pinch the bottom of his mask, dragging the material down to its correct location over his eyes. He shamelessly allows his gaze to rove over your body, recalling how tight and needy you’d been just minutes ago.
“Next time, I’m gonna make you beg,” he warns, opening the door and slipping through, seductive gaze locking with yours. “Can’t wait ‘til then, Y/H/N.”
And after that, working together became a whole lot easier.
─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───
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make sure to shoot me a comment/ask/reblog if you enjoyed ♥︎ I’d love to receive any feedback!!!
thank you so much for reading!! Happy Valentine’s Day sweethearts :)
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𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.
#whewwwww#somebody call the fire departmentttt lawd#lmao not to toot my own horn but this was hot#i finished this ln when i was lit af and was so pleased to find this morning when editing minimal errors and i managed to stay on track woo#ok ok ill get over myself now#bakugou fic#bnha fic#mha fic#ground zero fic#bakugou katsuki fic#bakugou smut#bnha smut#mha smut#bakugou katsuki smut#bakugo smut#my fics#my fics katsuki
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Broken Things 2/24
by: mldrgrl
Rating: varies by chapter, rated R overall
See Chapter 1 for summary and notes
Mulder blinks in surprise at the widow’s sudden dismissal. He’s overwhelmingly concerned for the welfare of this woman he’s just met and he has no idea what to do about it, but he does know he can’t just leave her here.
Moments ago he was looking around this house, thinking that it might just crumble around them where they stood. The place looks to be already abandoned, far worse than when Old Man Goodwin was living here, and he wasn’t much of a housekeeper. There are no furnishings. No dishware or pots and pans that he can see. No lamps. Not a knick knack or vase of flowers. She has nothing. Less than nothing, really, and he finds that to be unbearable.
The only thing Mulder knows about the widow, Katherine, is that she’s well-spoken and has been educated. Somewhere along the way there has to have been a fall from grace. Life has handed her a raw deal, that much he can gather, but there’s a spark of determination in her to keep her head above it all. She’s utterly captivated him and he’ll be damned if he’s going to let anything happen to her.
A wild idea pops into his head and he’s never been one to pass on a whim, wild or not. His gut tells him what he’s thinking might be crazy, but he’s followed his gut on crazier notions before and he’s learned to trust his instincts.
“Marry me,” he says.
“I’m...sorry?” Katherine asks. Her right eyebrow lifts into a perfectly peaked arch and he’s never found anything so endearing in his life.
“Hear me out before you object.”
“I’m listening.”
“Do you have a copy of the lease your husband signed?”
“I do.”
“May I see it?”
She hesitates for a moment, but then turns and moves to the back of the room. She reaches under the bedstead and returns with a tattered bible which she thumbs through and takes out a folded scrap of paper. He takes it from her, unfolds it, and then reads it.
“This is good,” he says. “Exactly as I’d hoped. Your husband signed a five-year lease with an option to purchase at the end of the term. Do you know if he has a will?”
“None I’m aware of.”
“And there are no children?”
Her lips part on a breath and then she closes them again and swallows before answering. “I am unable to have children.”
“I see.” He folds the lease agreement back along the original creases and hands it back to her. She slips it into the pages of the bible again. “Well, in the absence of any will, you would be the sole beneficiary. If we were to marry, I would assume your assets as well as your debts. I can pay what’s owed and if Mr. Skinner will allow it, make good on the option early. And you do know that it would also mean that what I own becomes yours as well.”
“I am quite certain you could own this land without marrying me.”
“That’s true I probably could. But, then where would that leave you?”
“I haven’t quite solved that particular problem yet, but you certainly don’t need to concern yourself with it.”
“Oh, but I do. Now that I know you, I can’t leave you here. You’ll be removed from the property soon enough and with no people to come for you or to return to...well, I couldn’t stand by and see that happen. My conscience would not allow it.”
“I could find work.”
“Out here? The only spot in town that would hire you is a house of ill-repute. Unless you plan to walk to Fort Worth, and even then there aren’t a lot of...look, I bet you know how to mend things? Cook some? Clean?”
“Of course.”
“I would offer you a job in that respect, but towns are small and people talk. If I take you on as a single woman to a ranch with six men about, people may think something improper was going on and that would affect business.”
“I’m not your responsibility, Mr. Mulder.”
“All my friends just call me Mulder. You might not be my responsibility, but I happen to like you.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“I know you’re smart and you’re kind and I enjoy speaking with you. And I know you don’t deserve to be put out on the street with nowhere to go and no people to turn to.”
She looks down and away from him and he moves his hand out to lift her chin, but thinks better of it and doesn’t touch her. He knows horses a lot better than he knows people, and hardly knows a thing about women, but she reminds him of a spooked colt and he doesn’t want to overwhelm her and cause her to retreat. Horses will hurt themselves out of fear, and she just might do the same.
“Think of it as a business arrangement,” he says. “You will be in charge of the household duties, and if you ever decide you’d like to leave, I will be sure you’ll go with the value of this land in your pocket.”
“Cooking, cleaning, mending,” she mumbles. “What else might you be expecting?”
“I’m not looking for sport, if that’s what you’re thinking. I told you, there’s a house in town and If it was sport I was after, there are certainly far cheaper alternatives. Excuse me for being blunt.”
“No, I appreciate your honesty.”
“You can trust me.”
“I’d like to believe that.” With her head still lowered, she reaches up and brushes the side of her hand across her eye. “What if one day you find a woman you actually wish to marry? Start a family. What would happen then?”
“You don’t have to worry about that. I have a singular focus and nothing else matters to me. But, if you should wish to marry, one day-”
“I won’t,” she says quickly, and firmly, shaking her head down at the floor. “I do not wish to marry again. I mean...aside from what you’re proposing.”
“Is that a yes?”
“You would really do all of this for a bit of land?”
“It’s good land.” He pauses and twists his lips for a moment or two. “But, as I’ve told you, it’s not just for the land.”
She finally glances up at him, but then quickly looks away again.
“Do you believe in fate?” he asks.
“I believe God has a plan for everyone.” Her brows furrow. “But, fate? Logically, I would have to say no.”
“One of my horses threw a shoe today. I wasn’t supposed to go into town this morning, and yet I did. If Faithful Jenny hadn’t thrown that shoe, I wouldn’t have been in town and I wouldn’t have found out about your husband. If I hadn’t found out about your husband, I wouldn’t have ridden out here. If I wouldn’t have ridden out here, I wouldn’t have met you.”
“But, if you weren’t away on business, you could have had this land six months ago, as you said.”
“Exactly my point. If I had purchased this plot six months ago, you never would’ve shown up here. I think this is meant to be. I think this is fate.”
“I don’t know about that, but...may I have a day to think this over?”
“Of course you may. And please, let me take you away from here. There are coyotes and bears that are apt to prowl around at night and this door doesn’t look very stable. Not to mention the drifters that pass through and the Indians that roam about, though they won’t usually do you any harm unless provoked. Still, I’d feel better if you’d come with me now.”
“Wouldn’t that look improper?” she asks, and her brow quirks again, only this time it feels a little more playful.
“Yes, Ma’am, it would, if I were to bring you home. I was planning on setting you up in town.”
“Surely not to the house of ill-repute?”
He smiles, glad that she’s in good enough humor to engage in a bit of banter. “John Byers and his wife Susannah operate the mercantile in town. They also have extra room since their boy, Franklin, has gone off to school. When I tell you that Susannah would be delighted for a lady friend, it might be an understatement.”
“If I leave with you, what if Mr. Skinner shows up?”
“I’ll handle Skinner.”
↭
Leaving with this stranger will not be the most rash thing she’s ever done, but it will be high on the list amongst the impetuous things she has done in her life. There’s something about him though that calms her insecurities and makes her feel like she can trust him. Besides, there really doesn’t seem to be any other option except to sit and wait to be evicted.
“Bring with you whatever you might need for a short time,” he tells her. “We can come back with a cart for anything else.”
But, there is nothing to come back for once she packs her nightgown, her bible, a tin cup, a broken hair comb, and a deerskin blanket into a burlap sack she’s been toting for the last few years. He looks at the sack and then at her and around the small sod house as if he’s waiting for more possessions to magically present themselves.
“This is everything I have,” she tells him.
“Alright then.” He nods and puts his hat back on.
His horse is very fine looking. Yellow, with a white mane. It whinnies when it sees him and he scratches it under the chin and rubs its nose. For a moment, it almost looks as though they’re holding a private conversation, with the horse nodding and whinnying and Mulder whispering softly to it. The horse scrapes a front hoof into the dirt and Mulder pats it gently on the shoulder.
“This is Blondie,” he says, smiling as he turns to her. “I was letting her know to be on her best behavior while you’re on her back. Do you ride?”
“I’ve ridden some when I was younger. I can walk, though.”
“We have to cross a creek up a bit and you’ll be safer and drier up here. Don’t worry, she’s nice and gentle. I’ll lead her. All you have to worry about is sitting straight and not falling off.”
“And getting up.” She eyes the stirrups on the saddle and estimates they’re at least as high as her shoulders.
Mulder chuckles and takes the sack from her. She notes the consideration he takes in placing it down on a patch of grass a few feet away and doesn’t drop it in the dirt. He comes back very close to the horse’s side and lunges forward a bit and slaps his knee.
“Go on and grab the saddle horn with your left hand and step on up with your left foot. You may have to lift your skirts a bit to throw your leg on over.”
It takes her three starts to gain the momentum to hoist herself up. She does what he tells her to though and gathers her skirts up. She knows she should be embarrassed by the holes in her shoes and that she has no stockings, but she lost the ability to care about such things a long time ago.
“Well done,” he says, and then passes the sack up to her. “I’m going to adjust these stirrups to fit and we’ll be on our way.”
He works the buckles and straps swiftly and expertly and apologizes for touching her ankle when her foot momentarily gets in the way. After he’s done, he brings the reins down over the horse’s head and turns it away from the house. Katherine realizes, once they’re some ways away, that she never even had the thought of turning back for a last look.
He tells her about the potential he sees in the land as they walk. He tells her about the corral he’d like to put up and how he would like to expand his business of training horses.
“You’re not from here,” she says at one point when he’s lost in his rambling.
“No, I grew up back east. Massachusetts.”
“How did you come to be so interested in horses?”
“Hand down that sack and hold on tight here, we’ll be crossing the creek and the horse could slip.”
She gives him her burlap bag and holds firm to the horn of the saddle. He throws the sack over one shoulder and guides the horse towards a small embankment and then tests the footing before they cross. She’s barely jostled by it. He stomps his boots once they’re back on dry land and hands the sack back up to her.
“That’s my girl,” he says, patting the horse lightly on the neck. The horse snorts and its ears twitch. “That creek was the dividing line of our properties.”
“Perhaps not for long.”
“Hopefully.”
The faint aroma of fire is in the air and she can see a thin curl of grey smoke in the distance. She sees Mr. Mulder breathe deep and then smile broadly.
“Looks like Melvin has noon dinner on the stove,” he says. “We’ll eat before we head into town.”
She doesn’t tell him, but she hasn’t eaten for almost three days. The pump behind the house gave plenty of water, but their food stock was depleted even before her late husband left last Saturday. She was able to boil some dandelions for a couple of days, but quickly ran out of matchsticks. Her stomach clenches and her mouth waters at the thought of food.
“So, you want to know how I came by the horse business,” he says.
“Mmhm,” she murmurs.
“When I was five years of age, there was a cholera outbreak in Boston. My parents, in their wisdom, felt that the city was unsafe for their children and they sent us away to live with my father’s dowager aunt at her country estate.”
“Was that difficult? Being away from your parents?”
“Not at all, actually. Auntie was a great lover of the outdoors and of children. She cared for my sister and I like we were her own, spoiled us as though we were as well. She gave me a little pony with a little cart for my birthday and that’s where it started, I suppose.”
“What happened when you went back to Boston?”
“Ah, well. I didn’t.”
“You didn’t?”
“The cholera took my mother. My father was not as equipped to care for children as Auntie was. He allowed my aunt to adopt us and then he eventually remarried and I have a younger stepbrother named Jeffrey who I don’t know much about except that he’s probably of the age to start college soon enough.”
“And what about your sister?”
“Her name was Samantha.”
“Was? Oh. I’m sorry to have-”
“You do not have to apologize.” He stops the horse and looks up at her. “It was a long time ago. She was eight when she passed on. Smallpox. She loved horses even more than I do. Blondie was actually her horse. Of course, she was a bitty little filly at the time, but Sam made me promise to take care of her, and I have. She’s been with me nigh on thirteen years now.”
Katherine doesn’t know what to say to this. The small smile Mulder gives her after he stroke’s the horse’s cheek is a sad one. It’s a painful reminder of the grief she also carries that she’s never spoken so freely about. She’s never spoken about it at all, in fact, and she can’t ever see a time when she will be able to.
The rest of the journey to the ranch is in silence.
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Romanced Companions react to Sole Shusing Them With A Kiss.
(Enemies or argument.)
Cait:
Listen, she loved it when you surprised her with kisses- but why now? The two of you were just finished with a shoot out- did her blowing a raider’s head off really arouse you that much? Must have, seeing as you suddenly toppled her over and made her duck behind the old rickety bar of the hotel lobby- making sure your lips stayed right on her own.
That’s when she caught onto the cause of your sudden lust.
Footsteps, quite a few of them at that. Footsteps slowly moving further away from the two of you.
Fuck.
Curie:
She just knew that this “Museum of Witchcraft” thing was a terrible idea. She knew it from the second she saw the mangled remains of some unfortunate soul outside and she especially knew it whenever you lead her up the stairs.
What really got her was the pure dread in her stomach when she laid eyes on the slumbering beast held within, a soft gasp erupting from her- only to be stopped by you pressing a chaste kiss to her lips, quick to begin backing away to safety.
Had it not been for the inherent danger in front of you, she might’ve just been excited and pleased with the contact.
Oh well, she’ll get you back for it later when death wasn’t almost a guarantee.
Danse:
It was far and few between that he would argue with you, but with how stubborn both he and yourself were- it was only a matter of time until you butted heads on something. He still didn’t like it but that surely didn’t stop him from adamantly bickering back- at least until you let out a frustrated growl, your eyes a pool of fiery fury as you grasped the back of his head- fingers tugging pulling his short hair and forcing him down from his larger stature and into a rough kiss.
At first he was surprised, amber eyes wide and a startled moan spilling from his lips. That quickly dissipated into his eyes fluttering closed, the anger he felt transforming into butterflies in his stomach.
Even as you tried to pull away, his head would follow your’s in attempt to savor the kiss.
What were you arguing about again?
Deacon:
Deacon knew that his humor could at the very worst- be ill timed and annoying, but that was the beauty of it..right? Well, sure. Especially whenever he brought to the breaking point of your nerves- seeing your eye visibly twitch before you whipped around to face him , practically seething when you roughly pressed a kiss to his annoying lips. If only you could’ve seen behind his sunglasses, his eyes having almost doubled in size in response.
Needless to say, he never had someone shut him up like that.
Gage:
Though it didn’t happen often, sometimes Gage just couldn’t help himself but get mouthy with you. Nothing terrible mean, just the occasional complaint. However he never got far- just like now..
As soon as he rolled his eye at you, you forcefully pulled him to you by his ass- keeping him firmly in place so you could press your lips against his, biting down onto the plump flesh right when he attempted to kiss back.
“Dotcha dare forget who I am, understand?” “Fuck..yes, boss.”
Hancock:
Look here, he didn’t think it was a good idea- but seeing how eagerly you threw yourself at him, he couldn’t help but eagerly kiss back. Even reaching down to cup his hands around the curve of your backside and pull you deeper into the pleasant surprise of your kiss. He even though that he may get a little more out of this affection, maybe even get to try outdoor sex in the alleyway- until you pulled away with wide eyes.
Before he could ask what was wrong, he heard your giggle quietly- pointing over towards the sewage drain that had a pair of menacing horns slowly descending down.
Oh shit.
Macready:
For having such good vision and talent, Mac was terrible at sensing danger- but not nearly as bad as he was at keeping his damn mouth shut.
Gasping, you quickly pulled Mac back around the corner of the old brick building- praying to a higher being that it would provide enough cover- before caving him in with your hands and kissing him, using your own body weight to keep him perfectly still.
Whenever you finally deemed it safe, you withdrew and he gazed upon you with a lovestruck expression- a pretty blush dusting his face.
“Youre going to end up killing me one day..”
And yes...he was still somehow completely unaware of the lack of mongrels prowling the street over.
Maxson:
I think we all know that Arthur is proud, stubborn, and very much so opinionated. Put all that together and you have a recipe for a person willing to relentlessly argue, even with the person he loved the most.
Luckily, you would not stand for it. All acknowledgment of his superior rank and reputation flying out the window as you grabbed him by his coat lapels, shaking your head one last finale time before crushing your lips against his to make him shut up.
His head felt like it was spinning, the obvious need to push you away being thrown from his kind in favor of relishing the sudden contact. No matter what he wanted to do, you had succeeded- having rendered him speechless even after you broke away.
Nick Valentine:
He thought that surely you had lost your mind. The place was crawling with all kinds of unsavory characters and yet you for some reason thought that now was a good time for smooching? I mean, he wouldn’t dare ever push you away but this was a seriously bad lapse in judgement.
At least that is what he though up until he saw the feral ghouls off to the far corner of the subway car stumble into another section.
If he could soil his pants, that would’ve been the time.
Old Longfellow:
No, Absolutely not. Do it, even for good reasons and he’ll bend you over his knee and swat your ass like the little brat you were being.
Piper:
Piper was nothing if not passionate. That much was certain.
Due to her nature and her sometimes extreme opinions, arguments were unfortunately inevitable. Especially if you were sympathetic towards the institue.
Sometimes they just got so bad, both of yelling at each other without saying much of anything at all. That’s when actions would become the only reasonable solution, and you were not one to delay. Pushing forward, you’d grab her by her shoulders- pulling her to you without second thought and silencing the both of you in a rough, toothy kiss.
She’d of course not take too kindly to being interrupted, but because it was you...next thing she knew, she was wrapping her legs around your waist and moaning into your mouth.
Preston:
Goddamn Mirelurks. Ever the scourge of the castle, hardly ever worth wasting the ammunition though.
Rolling your eyes, you noticed the movement behind your lover’s back. However the panic set in whenever he opened his mouth to speak.
Unable to formulate any other idea, you promptly grabbed him by his upper arm, pushed him against the stony wall of your fortress before kissing him.
Boy was he shocked when he figured out what gotten into you.
Sturges:
Sturges was usually a very easy going man, so when the two of you “argued” it wasn’t like how most couples did. For instance, like now..it was nothing serious, more or less him griping at you for eating the last of his reserved snack cakes out of the cabinet.
Honestly, you knew you were wrong for it- but that surely didn’t stop the pleased smile on your face as you sauntered up to him, your hips bouncing side to side until you were close enough to wrap your arms around his neck and stop him from pestering you any more by shushing him with a kiss.
“There, is that sweet enough for you?” “Uh, I..I think so. *chuckle*.”
X6-88:
Honestly he was more surprised with the occasion more than your abrupt actions.
Everything had been going so smoothly, the two of you walking the streets of Boston ruins with an unnatural calmness. At least that is until he went to open his mouth and speak, to which you quickly raised to the tips of your toes and stopped his words before they could even form with a searing kiss.
His gloved fingers would instinctively press into your arms, unknowing wether he should push you away or if he should pull you closer. Regardless of what he wanted, he didn’t have time to decide because all too soon- you had pulled away.
It was later on that he figured out that there was a whole ass supermutant group walking the alleyway over.
#fallout#fallout 4#paladin danse#fo4 companions#fallout companions#elder maxson#danse#porter gage#curie#companions react#fallout companions react#fo4 companions react#fo4 reacts#arthur maxson#brotherhood of steel#cait#deacon#hancock#macready#fo4#nick valentine#nuka world#piper wright#preston garvey#x6 88#fallout 4 companions
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Maybe
WARNING: SPOILERS FOR LOKI SEASON 01 EPISODE 05: ‘JOURNEY INTO MYSTERY’ AND SEASON 01 EPISODE 04: ‘THE NEXUS EVENT’
Pairings: Loki/Sylvie
Rating: General Audiences
Word Count: 4,124
Status: One Shot - Complete
Chapter Preview:
He had meant for it to come out more as a question, an offering. A possibility for the both of them. But what it really sounded like was a… well; a sincere, hope-filled attempt to keep hold of… this. Whatever this was, he knew he wanted it. However things went, he knew-
He wanted Sylvie in his life.
His heart was racing in his chest, pounding almost as hard as it does in the midst of battle. In the unlikely event he’s a free man after all of this over, he’ll have to go and find his brother - if he’ll even talk to him, that is - and apologize for the harsh insult he used; for berating his older brother over his affection for that Earth woman.
He understood now.
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Author Note:
Oh Boy, here I go again, getting sucked into yet another ship. Basically, this is a dive into Loki's thoughts during the blanket scene in Episode 5 "Journey Into Mystery" because man, I sure do love getting into a character's head and breaking down their thought process.
P.S. No joke, I think I re-watched the blanket scene like... over 40 times I counted, roughly. Wanted to make sure I got every detail right lmao.
Oh wow, would you look at that - yet ANOTHER fic based on the blanket scene? I'm sure this hasn't been done by many different people ever since Episode 5 aired! Nah, I'm sure this is purely original stuff.
(Listen, this scene and - consequently - this fic got stuck in my head and I just had to write it down and... well here we are.
* * *
This was, as he had said, new for him.
It was… strange, to say the least. Not just because the woman who was sat next to him was, technically, on some sort of level, himself. And yet… not. Sylvie was her own person, that was for sure. And the only Loki, from who he’s met, who refuses to be called Loki. She had chosen her own name, and was currently choosing – or carving, was more accurate – her own path. A way out of the never-ending, self-sabotaging, “only use is for improving others” apparent destiny they’ve all found themselves in.
She had lived an entirely different life from him - and the use of the word ‘different’ here is strongly applied. It makes him a little uneasy when he dwells on it for too long if he’s being honest with himself. Yes, there may some similarities between them, as to be expected, but Sylvie had lived her own set of experiences different to his. Differences that had shaped her, made her see the world… universe… timeline? All of that, in a different way to him. Learning of the things she had gone through, what she’s trying to accomplish… it made his “glorious purpose” of ruling over “Mid-guard” seem like a spoiled boy's desperate attempt to feel important.
Everything with Sylvie and the TVA had shut down that ideal very quickly. Or, at least, has changed his view of his “Glorious Purpose”. The one change that he hadn’t seen coming, that Sylvie herself had told him; the very first words she had actually said to him:
“This isn’t about you.”
No, it wasn’t about him. Not just him, anyway. It was… it was all of him. Every version of himself out there, and every other variant of... Of everyone to have ever existed. Those, just like him, who are punished for stepping out of their pre-written timeline. Those that, when they try to change themselves, to be the person who those that loved him did everything in their power to guide them to be, were snatched away by the TVA and sent here to this pit of unwanted, broken things; left with nothing but unforgiving and dirty survival, only to lead to their inevitable death.
And it’s cold.
“Mobius isn’t so bad.”
Sylvie breaks the comfortable lull of silence they had found themselves in. They were, technically, supposed to be ironing out the details of this plan to enchant a creature much, much larger than them, whose only desire is to eat everything that enters the world they’re currently in. Which is why, perhaps, they had taken the moment to just… breathe. A moment of rest, side by side. Whilst it was true that his plan of killing the gargantuan cloud thing was near suicidal, it would be fair to say that Sylvie’s plan was equally as dangerous. Then again, what did he expect? Seemed that every type of Loki out there isn’t the best at creating plans…
“Or so good,” Loki counters. It seemed almost cruel to say, but… it was also true, wasn’t it? Sure, Mobius had done the things he’d done because he thought they were the right things to do – but that didn’t take away from the fact that he’d done them. How many variants, not only of him, but of so many other poor souls had been doomed to this place because of his work? Still, it wasn’t like Mobius had the full picture with everything. Mobius had been lied to just as much as he had. “I think that’s why we get along.”
A small smile pulls at Sylvie’s lips. She takes a deep breath in, staring out to the horizon where Alioth awaits prowling his territory. “He cares about you.”
That catches him off guard. He supposed that she and Mobius must have had some type of conversation in however long they’d spent driving to reach them. Apparently, the topic of conversation must have steered towards him at some point. And somehow, through that, Sylvie had deduced that Mobius… cared about him?
There’s a soft, knowing smile on Sylvie’s face as she catches sight of his reaction. It was probably the closest similarity they shared: friendships… didn’t quite seem to happen for them.
But there’s something else there in Sylvie’s expression as she looks to him. Almost a twinge of… of sadness. It sends an aching sort of pain through his chest as he sees it, coming to a sudden realization in his head. He knew that, deep down, the reason for his own loneliness was all due to himself. He knows now that there were plenty in his life that loved him, that always treated him like family even when, genetically, he wasn’t. But he had been blinded by jealousy and hatred, hatred that they had kept the secret of his true nature quiet for so long. It was because of this; this stubbornness and this selfish, false ideal that he deserves more, that he had made himself alone.
But Sylvie…? She had been well and truly alone. From such a young age, an age where his mother had barely begun teaching him the basics of magic, she had been snatched away from her life. Everything she ever knew and loved had been wiped away, the timeline dumped here just like everything else the TVA – or whoever the hell is actually in charge of the damn universe and its multiple timelines – decided was too much of a threat. Ever since then, from that very same day she had managed to escape their clutches, she had been running alone. All those years, fighting to survive, completely alone, existing in one apocalypse after the other. Even if she did try and interact with the people in those timelines, what would be the point? They were doomed to die, anyway…
Her words echo in his head for a moment, her sad smile seemingly etched into his memory. A part of him, that strangely soft side he didn’t know existed that had been growing stronger and stronger these past few days, burst with the need to do something, to remove the pain she was feeling. For just a split second, he nearly gives into it. He nearly says the words that were forcing their way to the forefront of his brain.
‘I care about you.’
But the words stay safely locked away in his head. Sylvie looks away from him, and the moment passes. He didn’t know if she had been expecting for him to say anything, and he certainly didn’t know what it is she might have thought he would say. His mind clambers for something, for anything to try and bring the moment back.
A strong gust of cool wind blows over them, sending chills across his pale skin - despite the long-sleeved shirt he was wearing. He knew that, if he really wanted to warm himself up, he could shift into his true form. Except, he didn’t see it as his true form. He has been an Asgardian as long as he can remember, and for all intents and purpose, this is who he’s meant to be. He is the son of Odin, son of Frigga, brother to Thor, an Asgardian, and he’s proud of that.
And that’s when the idea pops into his head.
“It’s cold,” Loki states the obvious to Sylvie with a shiver of his upper body, glancing over to try and catch her reaction out of the corner of his eye. For a moment, he wonders if Sylvie has the same views on their true heritage as he does, considering that, in her timeline, she was told she was adopted much earlier than he was.
She doesn’t mention anything about it, though. Instead, she simply agrees with his statement with a hum of “Mmm-Hmm,” but it’s exactly the kind of answer he’s looking for.
From the outside, it looks like an easy twirl of his fingers and a burst of lime-green light, but in reality, it’s years and years of practice, both by himself and… and with his mother. The weight of the blanket - though light - is comforting as it wraps around his shoulders; silky smooth to the touch and of a darker green than the light of his their magic.
The burst of color gets Sylvie’s attention, looking over to Loki again to see the new blanket he had materialized out of seemingly thin air - which… he did.
“I could conjure one for you, if you like?” Loki offers.
Sylvie smiles for just a split second, enough for Loki to believe that she might just say yes. But then her nose scrunches as she comes back to herself, and the belief is gone. “Tell you what, you could conjure me a new outfit,” Sylvie says off-handedly, pulling at the tight collar of her outfit. “You have no idea how uncomfortable something like this is.”
It’s a deflection. He knows that all too well, because… because it’s something he’d do. Not that he can blame her in the slightest. As he had said, just before he was pruned through the heart and sent here - this was entirely new for him. Sure, he had had his fair share of flings back home. Rare occasions when he would give in to temptations, let himself experience a slice of normality. But it was never real. He did not doubt that those that fell into his bed did not do so because they felt a connection, or saw a future. And neither did he. He was a prince, a God, and for most, saying you were able to seduce a prince was an achievement. And for him? Well, it was an easy means to an end, he supposed.
But this? This felt real. It was strange, it was something he had never experience before, and quite frankly, it scared the ever-living God’s out of him. So sure, he knew how to flirt… somewhat. But with this, with Sylvie? Everything was different, and he had no clue whatsoever what he should do.
“So…” Sylvie breaks him out of his thoughts. “Mobius, and his theory about…”
Oh. Well, he certainly hadn’t been expecting for the conversation to go there. Really, he had thought she might try and pretend to have never heard what Mobius had said.
“Right, right. About our Nexus event-,”
“Total rubbish, right?”
He’d be lying if he said that didn’t sting a little bit. “Absolutely,” ‘Liar’, a voice in his head hisses. “Of course, I mean-,”
“I don’t mean that it wasn’t a nice moment,” Sylvie hurries to say, and it lessens that sting just a little bit.
“No, it was great! It was really nice.”
“It just… sounds like another TVA lie.”
Which... Yes, when he thinks about it, could you easily have been a lie. Not that he thinks that Mobius would lie to them about this, no, but that someone else within the TVA had fed Mobius the lie. For what reason, he's not entirely sure. To throw them off the scent perhaps? Keep them from figuring out what can really cause a Nexus Event so powerful that it could conceivably take the TVA down.
Or, perhaps they just enjoyed lying. More than him even - and that's saying something.
"A hundred percent. I mean totally, yeah."
And oh, what was this? Loki tries to meet her eye, expecting her to nod her head vehemently in agreement to his statement. But... She won't look at him. She gives a somewhat strained-looking smile, more like a grimace than anything, and if he looks hard enough - by which he means projects his own feelings onto Sylvie and hopes she feels the same - he could almost imagine there was a flicker of disappointment there, too.
"I don't know how to do this," Sylvie says, an admission he didn't expect. She looks about as awkward as he feels, eyes fixated on her fingers as she plays with them.
"I don't even know what we're doing," Loki returns, and dear oh dear did he genuinely mean that. One moment he thinks he should take that step, say something, anything. And then the very next moment it becomes the wrong time, the wrong thing to say, and he's back to square one.
It was frustrating, to say the least.
"I don't have friends," Sylvie carries on, and it's another dagger through the heart. Yet another thing that was so similar, yet so, so different. He had been given so many opportunities for companionship, for friends, but he repeatedly threw them all away. But Sylvie? She wasn't even given the chance. She truly had-
"I don't have..." Sylvie trails off, a long gap where she struggles to find the right word to use. Her eyes had locked onto his, and he knew that nothing less than Alioth appearing right above their heads would get him to tear his eyes away.
"... Anyone."
"Well, there are more important things, right?" Loki desperately grasps for something to wipe away the blank, dejected look that was etched onto her features.
"Right? Yeah, like bringing down the TVA."
For once, one of his plans was going well. "Saving the universe, even."
"Well, there's no need to be dramatic - but yeah, kind of!"
Then there it was again - a particularly strong breeze pushing up to the little hill they were sat on. Sylvie gives a little shiver as it washes over them, a barely noticeable shuffle in an attempt to get warm, and Loki jumps at the opportunity.
It only takes one small adjustment, a brief push of magic, and then the blanket is growing, wrapping itself around Sylvie's shoulders in a motion so smooth, you'd think he'd done something like this hundreds of times before. Loki smiles gently to her when she notices the change, and his smile only grows more as Sylvie pulls the blanket tighter around her shoulders, shuffling closer to him by just the smallest of movements. Yet another plan he could now say was a success.
"It's not very snuggly."
Or, maybe not. "Okay," Loki manages to get out through a surprised laugh, but he does get some sort of gratification in seeing her smile at his response.
"Is it a tablecloth?"
"No, it's a blanket," Loki finds himself strangely defending his materialized choice of cloth.
There’s a pause, the quickest of glances up to him. He sees a brief flash of pink as she pokes out the tip of her tongue between her lips, wetting them as she struggles to get out her next words. “Thank you.”
Loki gets a strange feeling she doesn’t get to say that all too often. Whether that be because she chooses not to, or because she’s never had the opportunity to. When was the last time someone did something nice for her…?
“My pleasure.”
Sure, this was all new, and all types of scary. But, as he sat here, shoulder to shoulder with Sylvie, looking out to the dreary yet oddly beautiful landscape scattered with remnants from pruned timelines, he can't help but feel that this moment right here? It was… nice. Despite the TVA, despite Alioth, despite the fear of imminent death he’s had to live through nearly every moment since the Tesseract flung him into that desert in Mongolia, he had managed to find himself some semblance of peace.
And it was because of the person next to him.
“How do I know that, in the final moments, you won't betray me?”
Now, this was a conversation he had been expecting. How can he not? It seemed that nearly every single person he’s ever come across, who he hasn’t immediately tried to murder, wonders the exact same thing. The ‘inevitable’ betrayal every Loki seems incapable not to carry out.
And he couldn’t blame them, just as he can’t blame Sylvie for wondering the same thing. Really, he had thought the whole reason she had wanted this moment to talk to him was to have this very conversation. It was… it was something he had thought about himself, ever since being dragged in by the TVA. It was Mobius that had shown him his consistent deceitful nature - quite literally, by showing him film of every moment in his life where his flair for dramatics and affiliation for backstabbing was apparently used for ‘the bettering of others’.
It had become deeply ingrained into his nature. It became what he was known for, what his family knew him for. He supposed it gave him some sense of… satisfaction, perhaps? A false sense of security, that he always has the upper hand when need be. It was almost like a trial, opportunities to prove to himself that, when the time comes, he can do what it takes to claim what he, false-fully, felt he was owed. He was certain that the only path to being a rightful ruler was one filled with betrayal.
And now, after only a few days with Mobius - and an even shorter amount of days with Sylvie, his previous ambition he’s been working towards for so long suddenly wasn’t as important. Things had changed.
He had changed.
And that was part of the reason the TVA wanted him dead.
“Listen, Sylvie, I…” Loki starts, but then stops. He sighs deeply, wanting to find the best way to get this across to her. He needed her to understand. “I betrayed everyone who ever loved me. I betrayed my father, my brother… my home.”
He at least had her full attention now. No more awkward glances at one another, unable to maintain more than a few seconds of eye contact. This was important, and they both knew it. “I know what I did. And I know why I did it. And that’s not who I am anymore. Okay?”
There’s nothing on her face that he can read, nothing that says whether she believes him or not. She had been expecting him to say this, he supposed. “I won't let you down,” Loki says, and he says it like a promise - one he fully intends to keep.
“You sure?” Sylvie asks, and he nods his head straight away in response. “ ‘Cause if we make it, and the TVA is gone, there might be a timeline for you to rule.” Sylvie continues with a challenging - yet slightly teasing- narrowing of her eyes.
“Ah,” Loki says wistfully, looking out to the horizon as if dreaming of such an event. “And then I’d finally be happy.”
Except, he wouldn’t. He only has to look at his older self to know that. The only one of himself that had beaten the one event that’s supposed to define their lives. He had tricked the mad titan himself, found himself a little corner of the universe to live out his life in peace. No more people he has to challenge, no more opportunities for betrayal - by him, or to him.
And he looked… miserable.
Now, though? Right here and now, he wasn’t miserable. He certainly wasn’t relaxed, that was for sure, but far from miserable. He had ended his little exclamation with a rare smile that wasn’t a smirk - or forced- and miraculously, Sylvie returned one just as wide as his; wide enough even for him to see the little laughter lines crinkling at the corner of her eyes.
“What about you?” Loki asks. “What will you do when this is all over?”
Sylvie takes a moment to think, tucking an unruly strand of hair away from her face. “I don’t know.”
He couldn’t even begin to try and put himself in her shoes. Sylvie had spent… hundreds, perhaps even a thousand years of her life just running. Surviving. Doing whatever it takes to make sure she wasn’t wiped off the board by some mystery figure, or group, that had deemed her too dangerous to the timeline. And for what? Some kind of sick desire to have control over every single living thing in every type of Universe to ever exist?
Which… which sounded an awful lot like himself, now he thought about it. Maybe whoever was in charge of the TVA was another variant of himself…
“I don’t know either,” Loki said, and that added to the tally of growing truths he was admitting to people - perhaps the most in his life.
At some point, this all had to be over. Whether… whether it ends in his death once again, another defeat by a power-hungry being, or with their victory. No more TVA. No more pruning of variants. No more control. Sure, Sylvie had made that joke about him ruling a separate timeline, but… what would he do once this was all over, assuming her survives it? What did he want to do?
What does he want?
‘Look at your eyes! You like her!’
‘What?’
‘You like her! Does she like you?’
‘Was she pruned-’
‘No wonder you have no clue what caused the Nexus Event on Lamentis; both of you are swooning over each other!’
‘Tell me the truth-’
‘It’s the apocalypse! Two Variants of the same being, especially you, forming this sick, twisted romantic relationship - that’s pure chaos! That could break reality, it’s breaking my reality right now! What an incredible, seismic narcissist - you fell for yourself!’
‘Her name was Sylvie’.
Mobius had truly tricked him there. At least now he knew how cruel it was to be on the other side of such a bluff, he supposed. He had always prided himself on his acting abilities, his innate way of lying to others. Yet, apparently, when it came to Sylvie… he puts his full emotions on display. He had become too overcome with emotions at the mere thought of Mobius telling the truth, that Sylvie was well and truly gone, and he had snapped. He was…
Yes… That was the word.
He was heartbroken.
‘You conniving, craven, pathetic worm. I hope you know you deserve to be alone and you always will be.’
‘Do you really think you deserve to be alone?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Well then you better figure it out quick, because the Nexus Event the two of you caused, whatever that connection is, can bring this whole place down.’
Maybe, just maybe… Mobius was onto something there. Maybe Sif, even in that small, once insignificant memory buried in his mind, was wrong.
Maybe he didn’t deserve to be alone.
Maybe he didn’t have to be.
“Maybe…” The words get caught in his throat, spoken softer than he intended to. He involuntary finds himself leaning closer to Sylvie, to the warmth radiating from her, trapped within the blanket wrapped around them. “Maybe we could figure it out... together.”
He had meant for it to come out more as a question, an offering. A possibility for the both of them. But what it really sounded like was a… well; a sincere, hope-filled attempt to keep hold of… this. Whatever this was, he knew he wanted it. However things went, he knew-
He wanted Sylvie in his life.
His heart was racing in his chest, pounding almost as hard as it does in the midst of battle. In the unlikely event he’s a free man after all of this over, he’ll have to go and find his brother - if he’ll even talk to him, that is - and apologize for the harsh insult he used; for berating his older brother over his affection for that Earth woman.
He understood now.
He almost misses the slightest of reactions as Sylvie looks up to him - and what he knows is an earnest, vulnerable glaze in his eyes. It’s the smallest of things, almost impossible to see, but there’s a slight pull to the corner of her lips as she looks to him. Almost as if she was fighting back a smile at his proposition.
“Maybe,” She whispers back to him, just as quiet and tender as his own words. It’s not a yes, not in the way his frantically racing heart was hoping to hear, but it was a start. It was Sylvie’s own returning of a proposition, her own olive branch. The possibility he had given that she was extending right back to him.
Maybe.
Maybe.
Maybe.
Yes… Maybe they’d survive this. Maybe he and Sylvie would bring down the tyrant who oversees ‘the sacred timeline’. Maybe he’ll find Mobius again, alive and well, having turned the entirety of the TVA’s workforce against the organization they devoted their lives to, and burn it to the ground.
Maybe Sylvie will let him stay by her side.
Maybe, he’ll carve that new path in his life - with Sylvie’s intertwined with his.
Maybe he’ll find that new Glorious Purpose.
Maybe he won’t be alone.
Maybe he’ll be happy.
Maybe…
You know what? He was starting to like that word.
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Serial Killer Boyfriend
YoungFP x Reader
Werewolves howl, Phantoms prowl, where witches go riding and black cats are seen, the moon full and bright whispers tis Halloween.
It feels like magic in the night when you see the pumpkins light. Time for the ghouls and ghost to seek goodies, for people hoping for treats not tricks.
Halloween time in our town with pep. Everyone from school invited and some not invited to this years Spooktacular Party surely must be getting ready as i am.
🎃Now I have a story that I'd like to tell
About this guy you all know him, he had me scared as hell!
He comes to me at night after I crawl into bed
He's burnt up like a weenie and his name is Fred!🎃
As A nightmare on my street song plays on my radio I apply my lipstick and smile when the song mentions the name Fred as it makes me think of my friend Fred Andrews, i also cant help but love the nightmare on elm street movie. Freddy Kruger what an intense killer to get you in your precious dreams i hope they make more movies like that. A noise interrupted my thoughts slightly making me jump. heading towards where it had come from i look out my window to the left then right side seeing some children running around on my street dressed up in their costumes trick or treating, the street lights shinned on my street sign that read ELM STREET.
Thinking the noise must of been from those who are outside simply wanting candy i turn away from the half way open window i scream as i felt something grab my arm from where the window was i turn fast to face it seeing my boyfriend trying to climb through the window. I let a relived sigh leave my lips and step back in no mood to help him through my window but to watch his struggle he sure deserves it after that stunt.
“Thank for the help babe” FP says sarcastically while finally getting him self through my window his eyes not yet even looking really at me until he stands up straight turning to fully face where i was standing by my bedroom wall.
FP’s eyebrows raised in what looked like surprise “Wow babe, damn you look good not like that’s anything new”
“Well i tried thank you, uh what are you suppose to be, some poor victim of a serial killer stabbing, some messed up boy with mommy issues and a daddy who just doesn't seem to love him the same these days who has a issue filled girlfriend that seems so awkward all the time who probably kills his own girlfriend because ya know always some bullshit reason to kill your girlfriend, he must of watched way to many movies” I ask him as he slowly creeps closer to where i have been standing. This is when i notice the knife in his hand. It sure don’t look like the typical cheap fake ones used for such things as Halloween costumes. That makes me raise an eyebrow at the sharp metal in his hand. Fps eyes caught my reaction to his choice in accessory for his costume and he smirks getting closer to me.
“Nah babe this blood is of my victims” he smirks wider as his eyes seem to burn into mine “I’m the killer” he adds while he brings his knife up to his bottom lip resting it there.
“Shit does that mean i’m the girlfriend you want to kill for some bullshit reason” i fake seriousness.
“Hmm I think ill keep you around you look to good to ruin that tight outfit” he smirks checking me out.
“Thanks. Oh and next time use the front door you ass”
“Did i give you a fright” FP stalks even closer to just inches apart. Like he is stalking his prey. I deny that he frightened me and i lightly push him backwards from my bubble of space done with his creepy killer vibes in my bedroom and wanting to get my party on.
Walking out my front door like a normal none creepy person uses i turn to FP “Your not really gonna walk around with that legit knife are you, because that seems like big ole trouble to me”
“You have no idea” FP says quietly but loud enough to hear him. I watch as he passes by me down my steps and put the knife into a holster on his jeans.
“Wait what?” I ask confused on his statement. only for him to act as if he never heard me.
I spot a boy who looks like our friend a small ways down coming from his front lawn as we approach and it is indeed my best guy friend!
“Oh my gosh Fred i love it i absolutely approve of this years choice in costume” I say excitedly going to hug him not caring for his eyes to slightly open wider at my revealing chest area.
“You look.. uh wow yeah wow a good wow very good wow” Fred rambled
“Watch it Fred” FP warned in what seemed to be a half joke half serious threat as he slaps Fred’s check lightly and they do a quick bro hug.
“Awe my guys, my killer boyfriend and killer best friend, my Freddy as Freddy i love it, glad you didn’t go with a mask of Freddy Kruger though i prefer your pretty face” I smack Fred on the same cheek FP had done.
“I knew you would” Fred smiles.
“Okay i could use a drink and Hiram douche as rich as he is must have plenty at his party so hurry up move it along” FP says nodding his head ahead of us indicating for us to start walking that way.
Hiram Lodge, rich and rude mostly describes him. someone who many of us don’t particularly like. Fred dislikes him for many reasons one being Hermione Gomez the girl Fred was into and thought she could be the one. Until she chose Hiram and his pearls over Fred and his heart. FP dislikes him for many of the same reasons Fred does but one being Me the ex girlfriend of Hiram, I thought he could be the one until our once fun filled relationship turned into a cold one into a distant one into me choosing FP over Hiram. But hey a party with free booze is our kind of party and we got the invite well me and Fred did anyways.
Walking through the streets of Riverdale seeing all the Halloween decorations like the lights from jack-o lanterns and ghosts hanging from trees, feeling the chilling vibes of the magic that is Halloween night run through my body, the feel of a cold hand in mine making me smile at my serial killer looking boyfriend.
I watch as few children pass us by seeing the looks shared by Fred and FP raising my eyebrow at what they could be thinking then suddenly the two teenagers yell and jump forward towards the little kids scaring them making the children scream and run off. Rolling my eyes at the two men in front of me laughing like hyenas.
“Real mature boys” I say unimpressed at the child like behaviour
“Its Halloween y/n lighten up” Fred laughs
“Yeah babe its meant to be scary” FP adds
“True but no need to terrorise little kids” I shake my head at them. And continue our walk.
Nearing the house holding the Halloween party hosted by Hiram i notice some familiar faces as much as i can being with all the Halloween costumes. my eyes came upon sierra dressed as wonder woman, a perfect costume for her and her girl power woman on a mission thing she has going on. a short distance a way as well seeing tom Keller in a army costume, another typically perfect costume for the boy.
The outside of the house isn't much decorated i try to push through some of my fellow classmates with FP and Fred hot on my tail walking through the front doors. I’m impressed by what my eyes are seeing the many outstanding lights making the house look like a nightclub ready for teenagers to dance the night away, i see Halloween theme streamers and garland, hanging bats all over the roof of the house, your typical mini orange pumpkins and some painted black placed on tables, and my favourite of all the creepy images on the walls that change.
“Boy Hiram of course with all the crap” FP looks around at all the decorations as i was. “Think he’s compensating for something Fred” FP chuckles looking to Fred who’s standing next to him. Fred laughs at his best friends remark.
“No comment” I smirk barley looking towards FP to see his glare thrown my way.
“Speak of the devil” Fred nods his head to where Hiram is walking towards us. Hiram lodge strolls head high nearing us wearing a medieval king costume, it makes me want to laugh at another super typical costume for the boy who think’s he is a real king, only kind of royal he happens to be is a royal pain in the ass.
“Well well well a sight for sore eyes, in all her black beauty” Hiram steps closely in front of me with that stupid smirk and ignorant eyes. I simply fake a big smile as my only response.
“Fred” Hiram greets in a major Hiram way that doesn't sound very greeting like. so Fred does the same. My eyes moves back and fourth between the two and landing on Hiram as his eyes land on my exposed chest thanks to my Elvira costume. This doesn't go unnoticed by my serial killer boyfriend who steps in front of me chest puffed out and eyes murdering the rich man who only smirks more at the exchange.
“Ah FP Jones i do believe you were not sent an invite but by all means enjoy my humble adobe, oh but please don’t let your serpent behaviour disturb my gathering”
“Hiram” is heard from behind him of course coming from Hermione. I roll my eyes at her presence dressed as a medieval queen. “Hello glad you guys can attend” she says playing the dutiful girlfriend.
“Mhm thanks” I say in the most super fake tone i can muster up and a smile to go with it as i move past them farther into the home of the devil incarnate.
Pouring my self a much needed beverage as FP pushes some guy lightly out of his way to reach a bottle of whiskey taken the whole thing for him self.
“Are you really just gonna take the whole thing?” i chuckle
“What like he cant afford to lose out on one damn bottle y/n”
“Okay then” i let out a small sigh hoping FP doesn't get to hammered.
“Hey it saves me from having to stab someone to move out my way for a drink” FP pulls out his knife he had in his holster waving it around near our faces with a wide smile. I’m not sure if its because it Halloween that this whole dressed in blood serial killer thing is legit creepy, but hey its pretend right.
“Stop waving that thing in my face before you make me lose an eye you psycho” I tell him half jokingly. he just stares at me for a moment like contemplating on something, maybe something i said. But finally after making a clicking noise with his tongue he puts the knife back into his holster.
“Good boy” I teasingly say to him as i grab his chin giving him a kiss to his cheek.
Hand in hand we walk around for a bit saying a few hellos to some friends of mine as FP stays silent drinking from his bottle and eyeing a few people dangerously creepy. We enter the dining room seeing people including Fred playing beer pong.
“Y/n come be on my team I’m kicking Tom’s ass” Fred shouts to where i stand with FP by the entrance. FP looks annoyed at the thought but i don’t care he can brood and mood alone for 5 minutes well i kick some major Keller toosh.
“Oh Keller boy its on” i challenge as Fred cheers at my comment.
I stand tall and elegantly yet cockily toss the ping pong ball, it lands perfectly into a cup filled half way with beer in front of Tom. Tom of course drinks it. Fred and I throw a few more times ultimately winning which causes us much joy giving us the need to jump around cheering for our self’s along with others in the room, i jump into Fred’s arms smiling at our victory he spins me around laughing.
“That was awesome y/n” Fred smiles as he put me down.
“Tha-” I’m cut off by the dark voice of FP
“I thought i said watch it” he remarks dryly to Fred as Fred gives him an unsure look.
“Wow okay babe laying on the crazy tonight real hard don’t you think” I tell FP furrowing my eyebrows at the bloody boy. FP scoffs and Fred backs away slowly to leave me to deal with my crazy boo.
FP moves close to my ear and says “Nah what would be crazy is if someone losses a hand because they can’t keep them off you” and he tilts his head in that weird way like a challenging way. Then all of a sudden he’s laughing. I can’t help my face reacting as if he has gone mad.
“Let’s keep checking out the place babe” FP says in his normal tone as if he wasn't just a crazy jealous boyfriend. And put’s his arm around my shoulders.
We came across a room that seems like a second living room it looks like the teenagers in it are playing a game as they all sit in whats suppose to be a circle.
“Oh look its Y/n, care to indulge us in a game of secrets and sins” Penelope’s voice rang out. she use to be a decent human being but it seems her adopted family the blossoms have really done a number on her after she accepted to be with Clifford her adopted brother. honestly I’m unsure if its even legal.
“I don’t know about that one” I shrug not really in the mood to share a secret of any sorts.
“Are you scared to tell us something” Clifford chimes in as he is sitting next to the red headed sister girlfriend of his.
“Let’s go babe” FP grumbles in my ear. But i shake my head at his words.
“No no i’ll stay” I smile and take a seat on one of the few couches in the room that have space. FP stay’s standing by the door.
“Well that makes it your turn y/n, any sinful secrets you might wanna share” Penelope asks with a wicked smirk plastered on her face as if she already knows any secrets i may have.
“Hmm i cheated on a math test once, no that’s a lame one, uh i keyed Hiram’s car after we broke up” that last so called secret made FP chuckle. but Penelope rolled her eyes not amused by my choices of secrets.
“I have a obsession with the movie the heather's i do as well imagine poisoning my classmates, I’m sure you’ll be able to relate” i tell Penelope with a small smile. She lets out a huff still not amused.
“So that’s your big secrets? Really. I think not Elm Street girl” she says smiling at me. Causing me to raise my eyebrow. And she continues on.
“You know who else lives on Elm Street, Fred Andrews right? Your friend, your boyfriends friend” she drags on
“So do you have a point or are you just obtuse” I laugh in my head at my own joke sense obtuse is opposite of something pointy.
“Funny. You like to do a lot with that mouth of yours, like talk when know one cares to listen or make out with Fred Andrews when you think know ones looking” she smiles deviously as my eyes widen in shock.
“What?!” is heard from the door FP in fit of rage.
“Wait let me explain” I say to FP but he doesn't hear it he’s to busy pushing his way out of the bedroom door so i follow him.
“FP can you slow down what are you doing let me explain” I yell for him to hear me but all i see is him on a hunt. oh no probably for Fred. Poor Fred.
Fp reaches Fred who is in the big living room area where the drinks are and teenager’s dancing. FP grab’s Fred by his shirt throwing him into a wall swiftly reaching for his knife
‘FP no” i shout as i near the two boys.
“What the hell FP” Fred asks his best friend.
“I outta kill you boy” FP barks in Fred face now holding his knife to his throat.
“FP stop please its not what you think i swear” I plead with my now looking like a real serial killer boyfriend.
“Y/n whats going on? Why do you have a knife? wait is that a real knife FP?!” Fred asks a bunch of questions in his nervous and scared state. We all barley notice the music had turned down a bit and people were gasping and whispering amongst them self's.
“You touched my girl!” FP says lowly very low dangerously low.
Fred looks beyond shocked at the news his best friend knew. He was speechless.
“FP please let’s talk outside or in a quite room” i beg of him.
“Screw this” FP says angrily and grab’s Fred again by the shirt only to throw him into the wall once more before backing away. “You better watch out boy” FP threatens Fred. FP disappear’s into the house and I tend to Fred.
“Oh my gosh are you okay i cant believe he just went that psycho” I held onto Fred’s head looking over his neck and face for any injuries. Seeing a small cut from the knife on is neck, making me cringe at the fact my boyfriend did that.
“I’m okay y/n how did he find out?” Fred asks looking guilty
“Secrets and sins and one red headed bitch of a blossom” I remark coldly.
“I’m going to find the bathroom see if i need anything for my neck” Fred tells me as he starts to move towards the door way.
I should look for FP to tell him the truth the whole truth to that secret. The fact that it was before i chose to be with FP, it was a drunk bad judgement call right after my break up with Hiram.
Its been some time looking for FP i think its safe to say he left the party. Maybe that’s a good thing give him some space to calm down and when he wants to talk i’ll gladly talk to him. I haven't seen Fred in awhile either, if he ditched me i’m going to kill that athletic guitar playing boy. No sign of my best friend and the party has majorly died down with only a few students i barley know from school and the few i do know decently well like Sierra, Tom, Penelope and Clifford, Marty Mantle and Darryl Doiley and of course the host him self and his little girlfriend Heromine.
I look around some more for Fred so we can leave, i check anywhere i can including upstairs. I come across a room at the very end of the hall and open the door slowly “Hello anyone in here?” I ask not wanting to intrude on anyone's personal business. There’s no answer. I cant make much of what’s in the room it’s very dark until i find the nearest light switch flicking it on my eyes instantly see a body on the ground.
“Oh my god Fred?!” I move fast towards the body now seeing the crimson colour seeping through his shirt as if he has been stabbed. I couldn't control it my mouth had i mind of its own as it let out a screeching sound of horror at the sight of my best friend bleeding not a single movement made on the floor.
I stood in shock for a moment after my scream rang through the walls catching the attention of a few of my fellow classmates as they run into the room.
I hear gasps and what happened and omgs come from a few mouths as i stare eyes wide open at Fred on the ground. I see Tom get closer to Fred’s body when i snap out of my trance of horror.
“Wait don’t touch his body!” i spit out before anyone can lay a finger on the boy.
Everyone looks at me as i’m insane.
“Finger prints and moving a body is like what tampering with a crime scene and if you have your finger prints on him guess who’s a suspect of murder” I tell everyone sternly.
“We need to see if he is breathing!” Tom says freaked out.
I move closer to Fred’s unconscious body not enough to touch and tell everyone to shut the hell up so i can listen for his breathing, I hear nothing. I then put my hand in front of his nose and mouth to see if i can feel air coming from his bloody body, I can not.
“He’s not breathing guys.. he’s dead” i cry out covering my mouth in more shock. I hear little cries from the girls Heromine and Sierra.
“This can’t be happening my parents will kill me if i through a party and there happens to be a dead body laying around” Hiram sighs
“My dad is probably gonna kick my ass” I hear Marty say in a fearful tone.
“We need to call the cop’s” Tom says
“I don’t know about that” Clifford chimes in.
“What are you talking about that’s what your suppose to do, unless you killed him?” Tom shouts back at Clifford. as Clifford scoffs
“This could ruin our life’s what colleges are wanting to accept people involved in a murder” Penelope say’s.
“Was that a confession?” Darryl Doiley ask’s The red head rolls her eye’s
“Who would do this” I let tear slip from my eyes.
Everyone looks around at one another eyes scanning each other with possible thoughts that one of us killed Fred Andrews.
“Hiram. I bet it was Hiram” Penelope says smugly as always these days.
“And why would I do that?” Hiram asks in almost to good to be true calm manner. Everyone turns their heads to Penelope so she can further explain her accusations.
“Oh please you never did like the boy so much you even stole his girlfriend” she replies nodding towards Hermione who still have many tears on her face.
“Please you strike me for the killing type both you Blossom’s and your weird family” Hiram spits back to the red headed girl.
“This is so not cool guys we need to do something” Sierra says.
“Yeah like the cops’” Tom says again
“No, no cop’s, not until we figure who might have done it” Hiram speaks.
“We can all point fingers at each other but nothing proves either of us did it” I tell them hoping their madness would stop i haven't even had time to really wrap my head around the dead body of my best friend.
“What about FP” Darryl Doiley speaks up from the corner of the room he’s been hiding in sense he came in after my scream. Everyone turns to look at the Doiley boy at the same time with looks that say what about him.
“He had a knife right he held it to Fred’s throat and went all psycho doesn't that prove anything” Darryl continued
“This is true, FP did have a weapon and is well crazy” Hiram says as a matter of fact. I roll my eyes at him.
“No way he wouldn't .. I don’t think he would, oh my no no he couldn't” i say unsure in my own words that my boyfriend and Fred’s best friend would commit such a crime.
“I don’t know the look in his eyes sure showed insanity” Penelope spoke
“Y/n it might be true look at the facts he was mad at Fred, he held Fred at knife point, and threatened him. It doesn’t look good for FP” Tom states
“What doesn't look good for me” FP appears in the door way of the room giving us all a fright many of us jumping at his voice. Some of our eyes wide in fear to see him in front of us hearing us talk about him. The girls Heromine, Sierra and Penelope move further away from him as they practically huddle together, Darryl and Marty look terrified, while Hiram and Tom have no expressions on their faces, then there’s me standing in the middle of everyone beside Fred’s body not knowing what to say and trying hard to keep my face a normal looking way.
“Say hey what happened here” FP says what almost seems like a question but more of a taunt, he takes a step inside the room with his head tiled in that creepy way he does.
“Get away from us you murderer” Penelope shouts at him.
“Hmm that’s not very nice” FP smirks deviously at her as he pulls out his knife pointing it at her “You are not very nice” he tell’s her. He looks at everyone in the room ‘In fact none of you really are. Not to me that’s for damn sure” he clicks his tongue.
“Hey man we no what you did and its cool we wont say anything to anyone” Marty tells FP in hopes to get out of a killer situation. FP just laughs at the boys attempts.
“FP tell them you didn't hurt Fred i know you didn't right?” i ask my own hopes rising
“We know you killed him FP” Hiram says to him
“How do we know your not the killer? huh? you like scary movies maybe your movie freak mind lost its reality button ever think of that” FP says challenging Hiram's words. Hiram scoffs.
“Okay well if FP didn't do it and none of us did lets just call the cops” Tom says starting to walk towards the door when FP’s knife ends up nearing his face
“Na na na Keller get back” FP demands so Tom goes back to his spot by Fred’s body and near me. I look to Fred’s dead body and to FP, feeling a wave of sadness wash over me finally seeing it feeling it , that FP killed him. My eyes water as i take small slow step to FP who bares his knife still in front of him.
“Why FP.. please tell me why” I cry slowly moving toward my killer boyfriend.
“Why y/n! why!” he shouts manically making me jump. He turns to face the door he had just shut then back to me.
Suddenly FP steps to me grabbing me by my throat facing me to everyone has his grip is tight on my neck keeping me in place close to him.
“Listen FP” Sierra says trying to defuse the ticking bomb
“No you listen you little bitch! Anyone moves and ill be happy to see what your insides look like. Takes the strength of a man to gut someone ya know” FP barks
“You all and your privileged life’s, you northsiders think your so better then everyone else!” FP shouts and his grip gets even tighter on my throat making me whimper. “Not anymore” FP drags his knife on my face as he speaks but not hard enough to cut into my skin.
“We are sorry i’m sorry we all are sorry!” Sierra shouts
“You don’t have to do this FP let y/n go” Tom says calmly reaching his hand out
“Let her go FP” Hiram says more demanding
“Please FP you don’t have to hurt anyone” Heromine chimes in
“Oh my ” Penelope mumbles
“Dude come on please” Darryl cries out
“We’re sorry dude” Marty says but not enough meaning to believe it.
“If any of us made you feel less then us we are sorry if any of us picked on you we are sorry or if we made fun of you FP” Sierra speaks again apologising for everyone. And everyone’s voice rings out say yes and yeah’s agreeing to what she had said in fear for their life’s.
“Nah” FP says then quickly spins me to face him and send’s his knife into my stomach instantly my hands go to the wound i feel the wet substance and my knees hit the floor as horror painful sounds escape my lips everyone runs to me as i turn around best i can hands red and dripping, the girls faces wet with tears the guys faces filled with horror i take one last look at my stomach hand covering it again.
“Gotcha” my head snaps up to everyone as i smile wide
“Really I’m dead no one calls the cop’s ” Fred says from the floor with his face looking towards us all.
“What?!” everyone shouts with wide eyes and still horrified yet shocked faces all around.
“Good job FP” Fred smiles getting up from the floor. “Man that’s tough playing dead for that long so glad no one saw me breathing when i needed to”
“You did great man” FP smiles
“But the blood” Hermione asks
“Corn syrup” I reply with a smile
“You are all seriously insane” Sierra says
“That was not funny” Hiram adds sternly
“Holy heck thank god” Tom sighs of relief
“I can’t believe you guys” Heromine says shaking her head in dismay.
“Not cool” Marty adds
“You had us all going” Penelope says in boredom
“Yeah” Clifford adds not making eye contact with anyone probably embarrassed that he got fooled.
“Well can’t say you guys didn’t deserve it” FP smiles a normal smile not a creepy one at last.
“Happy Halloween guys” Fred smiles
“I got me one hot serial killer boyfriend” I put my arm around FP’s waist as his arm goes around my shoulder.
“Happy Halloween” FP and i say at the same time to everyone.
#Halloween#halloween imagine#riverdale#riverdale imagines#fp jones#fp jones x reader#fp x reader#riverdale halloween imagine#fred andrews#hiram lodge#young fp jones#midnight club#the midnight club riverdale#Skeet Ulrich#jughead jones#archie andrews#veronica lodge#betty cooper#cheryl blossom#southside serpents
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okay here it is. The rest is below the cut.
You would think that living on a Hellmouth made the nightmares worse. That every night would be screaming torment, but really, the hollow earth below never really prowled the dreams of its lesser citizens. Sure, the vampires and their teeth made appearances, dead classmates, the prickling curent of the wind, but waking up and knowing your neighbor heard the same bump in the night, knowing you survived to see the sun: that’s your bitter reward. Your comfort. It’s normal here, perched on the lip above the sharpest tooth.
No, the nightmares get worse ten years down the line. You’re out of highschool. You wake up alone. You wake up in a city that doesn't understand you, strangers who want to prescribe you medicine or tell you to mediate. So you end up alone, and you know alone is how they like you. You’re not sure if demons lurk in your new city. You thought once that a man standing on the corner lit his cigarette with massive purple claws, and you ran, your feet echoing like gunshots through the streets.
You never did learn to shoot a gun. You keep it in your nightstand drawer, but you know it wouldn't stop anything that's followed you out of California, out of Sunnydale. Once, you had a girlfriend. Rummaging around for a hair tie she discovered your small handgun, your safety blanket. She picked it up with her forefinger and her thumb, like it was filthy, like she didn't understand. “Why do you keep one of these awful things?” You couldn't answer her.
There's no girlfriend now. No one to make you coffee in the morning, no one to rub your back when you wake up with the feeling of teeth in your throat, tight grips on your ankles. She got tired of you, you poor, novel thing from the west.
So it's been weeks. So it's been grocery shopping at 3am, staring at the wilting vegetables, trying to stay out of your apartment. It's been staying longer at the museum you work at. No, you don’t work there just to read the old books for some kind of answer, you lie. At your highschool, there was a librarian who kept swords. You think about sending him an email: Hey, Mr. Giles, do you sleep at night? Does it get easier? Where might I acquire a sword such as yours? You draft hundreds before you realize you have no idea where to send them.
Your classmates don't keep in touch. there is no Facebook group, there is no reunion. There can’t be: Sunnydale is no more. It collapsed in itself. This should be comforting: but all you can think of is the beasts who crawled out of the pit, who remember the stink of your fear. Some folks stayed local, moving just a town over, the low thrum from the throat of hell enough the lull them into a stupid haze of breakfast, lunch, and getting eaten for dinner. The rest left. There are two hundred, give or take, Sunnydale immigrants scattered around the country, waking up alone. Waking up with a gun in their hands. Waking up dead. Your school newspaper had an obituary page. The boy who ran it wrote well, you thought, if cynical. Who the hell can blame him? Mr. Giles, you write. How come it didn't get us? Why are we still left? Mr. Giles, can you tell me if it's following us?
Last week a friend of a friend called you to say Dennis had died. Dennis… you remember now. He was the lead singer in that band, what was it? Something about Dingoes. You ask how he died. Sunnydale habits: You keep an ear out for the signs. The friend says, puncture wounds, on the neck. Police suspect it was inflicted by a barbeque fork. You drop the phone. You sharpen stakes, get splinters in your palms. Buy crucifixes by the dozen. More than once, you’ve slept in a church pew, under the painted ceiling. At work, your boss asks with some concern about the dark circles under your eyes. Long night, you say. You are starting to hate this city. In this city, there’s no hero.
Yes, you remember her. You know everyone else does, too. Buffy. One time, you saw her sparring with the librarian. No swords, just fists. Another time, she crawled out of your biology classroom window at the arrival of a dark haired girl who blew her kisses. One time, she slammed the computer science teacher against her own desk. Wacky shit. You knew, though. That Sunnydale High had to be the safest place in town because of her. She killed things, probably. Definitely. Then she left. Sometimes, there are whispers: “I heard Buffy’s in Rome.” “I heard she lives in a castle.” “I heard she’s dead.” God, please, no. After every long night, you pray she still lives. That she hasn't let her guard down. It's midnight. You draft another email. Mr. Giles. Buffy’s still alive, right? Please tell me she’s okay. People keep dying, Mr. Giles, and we’re not even in Sunnydale anymore. Can you tell me what happened there? Why can't I stop dreaming about the destroyed graves of everyone who died? Can you tell me anything at all? Mr. Giles, Dennis is dead. Oz’s friend. I hope Oz is alive, too. I hope you’re alive. I hope you’re well. Take care. This time, you call a colleague in London. You track down Gile’s email through a stroke of luck, and you hit send. You don’t hear back at all.
Three months later, you receive a response. You’d almost forgotten about the message you sent. Your museum opened a new and successful gallery You received a promotion. You’ve been successful. (Yes, you’re even sleeping more. Shh, don’t say it too loud). You open the email.
Greetings and glad to hear from you- it’s wonderful to hear from old students. I do hope you’re well.
There is no easy way to answer these emails. Yes, you're not the only one who’s managed to reach me. I won’t disclose my location, or hers, but I can tell you that Buffy is safe, and alive, and I think she’s happy. She’s been happy for a while. I’ll tell her you asked, she likes to know that old classmates are doing well. Yes, Oz is alive. He’s been in Tibet for some time, though we do hear from him on occasion. He heard about Denis’s passing. Truly a tragedy.
I’m quite pleased to hear you’ve entered museum studies: a deeply satisfying and enriching work. I hope that you are finding enough answers with it. I know that living on- Well, where we lived is disorienting, confusing. I’ll try to answer you as best I can.
The swords I kept in the library (do never tell anyone I did that) I received as a present form a collector friend, who is long dead and whose collection is long scattered. The rest of the blade I received from my employers. I do not recommend keeping swords in your home as a safety measure. Invest in a good lock. Invest in protection charms found in books of the dark arts. I checked: your museum has some in collection. (Since you are emailing me, I can only guess that you’ve accepted explanations beyond those from the metaphysical realm).
I do sleep at night, thank you for asking. It gets easier. I don’t say this just because I’ve put an ocean between myself and Sunnydale, no: time does heal. It helps that I’m with people who understand. It helps to name the thing in the dark. I’ll put you in contact with a colleague of mine- he’s in your museum network- and you can begin to build yourself a circle, if you wish.
There is no reason that we live, my friend. There's no reason why any of our friends died. Your life is not a curse, I can promise you that. This isn’t borrowed time.
If you were being followed it would have gotten you by now. I apologize for my bluntness.
Oh, the ageless question of what happened. All the time in the world and I couldn’t give you a satisfactory answer. What would I say? That vampires haunt the sunniest part of California? That hell is real, and it can speak? I believe you already know the outline. What I can comfort you on is that yes. There are people who find evil, and they stop it. They haven't gone away. But that's not the point: don’t worry about them. Sunnydale is gone, dear student. It’s up to you to name the thing in the dark, keep it at bay. Be watchful, be wise. The world is bigger than most people know.
Sincerely,
Rupert Giles
You close your laptop. You stretch your legs. You go into the bedroom to retrieve the handgun, then place it on the kitchen counter. You stare at it. It doesn't move. You stare. The apartment is still, like the city is holding it in its throat. The clock strikes 4 am. It’s just a clock. It's just a gun. In your apartment, you’re just you, waiting for the sun to rise.
END
#well. here it is#reviews appreciated :)#btvs#buffy summers#btvs fanfic#btvs fanfiction#buffy#rupert giles#giles#vampires#daniel osbourne#sunnydale
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How about how the 12 warriors celebrate V-Day? (Bonus challenge being Doudecuple and Navi)
Thank you for the request @gale-dragon-writer
This was a long one! I hope you guys like!
Inounoshishi
Without S/O
This wouldn’t happen, let’s be real. If it did she planned this by choice, so she’s probably busy kicking ass and taking names...and numbers
Probably prowls bars for lonely men/women/they’s ect to buy her drinks.
Never pays for any food or drink of Valentines. She’s hot af and knows it
It’s 50/50 if she’s going to go home with someone
With S/O
Expects to be spoiled. Please spoil her
Despite her immense wealth, she doesn’t expect you to buy her expensive things. She can do that herself. What she’d really like is for a gift that’s full of thought.
If you make her a gift, she’ll play it off but she secretly loves it. It doesn’t matter how shitty it is. If you make her a cute boar figure out of clay and it’s lopsided, but you tried hard and painted it her favorite color, it’s going on her mantel in the living room.
Spoils you too. You will drown in gifts and kisses. Don’t worry, she uses amazing lipstick and it doesn’t stick to your face.
Dotsuku
Without S/O
Spends the day giving candy to the children.
Secretly gives his daughter a secret admirer letter, her confidence SKY ROCKETS
Decorates his classroom
This man is great at help kids learn about consent. No pulling pigtails, and if a boy likes a girl and she tells him no, he makes sure he knows not to keep bugging her. Same thing with the girls. If a boy doesn’t like them they’re not allowed to keep bugging them either.
Watches cute love movies with his daughter. He’s her prince charming.
With S/O
You better believe he has you help decorate his classroom
You make cute paper hearts and pick out candy
The kids leave you valentines
He takes you to dinner. His daughter comes too. You guys have a lot of fun. He buys you and his daughter a dessert. Somehow she eats here and half of yours
Snuggles on the couch and a cute movie.
Niwatori
Without an S/O
Doesn’t celebrate
She doesn’t understand why it’s a big deal
Indulges the day after on discount candy
With an S/O
Help her
She wants to celebrate but she’s in Ushii level awkward when it comes to doing anything
Picks the most popular movie out, watches it, and THAT is the basis for her whole idea
Gets you candy. Wears a cute dress. Picks a place to eat. Buys you roses, or do you get her roses? She’ll get them for you...just in case
Candy? Candy. Lots of candy.
Any small thing you get her she’s going to love. She never has really gotten gifts, and one out of love is a gift she’ll treasure forever
If you do get her flowers, she’s going to press them or dry them and keep them forever
Sharyu
Without an S/O
She had a fiancé for what seemed like forever, so a day without one is kind of difficult for her
She’s happy she’s alone, because she’s happy with who she is and now doesn’t have anyone to try and fit her into a mold that she didn’t belong
Kind of mopes though. She wants romance and someone who loves her for who she is and everything she does
Drinks hot coco and eats an ungodly amount of chocolate
With an S/O
So. Excited.
She cooks all day and makes cake, dinner, and everything else from scratch
You get her gifts and feel like it’s still not enough
Honestly? It doesn’t matter what you get her. She just love shaving you around and knowing how much you care for her for who she is
PLEASE slow dance with her in the kitchen while you’re doing the dishes. She’ll remember it forever
Hitsujii
Without an S/O
Hangs out at home
Waiting for the candy to go on sale
Babysits for his child so they can have a romantic evening
Watches random shows on TV, but avoids romance stuff
With an S/O
Still wants to hang out at home, but will go out if you want
Uses this as an excuse to DESTROY the candy aisle
Gets you flowers, they’re not red roses because that’s pretty expensive, but he gets cute ones...and a bear
Snuggles and falling asleep to bad rom coms on TV
Uuma
Without an S/O
Spends it alone
He wishes he had someone, but he’s alright for the most part
Okay he’s not
He’s a big softie inside and somewhat romanticizes the holiday more than he should
Eats cake...and chocolate
With an S/O
The man goes WILD
Roses everywhere
Candlelight
A romantic dinner he made meticulously after practicing for weeks
Remakes the titanic ship in a bottle, with you two as the figures on the front of the ship
He loves any gift you get him. He cries. He tries not to, but he does.
He writes you a poem he gets to embarrassed to read. You get it in a card.
Takeyasu
Without an S/O
Steals everything with his brother
Necklaces, candy, and even flowers just so he can light them on fire
Doesn’t think much of the holiday, never has. It’s stupid.
With an S/O
He’s awkward. He doesn’t know how to celebrate the holiday
He gets you the basics, candy, a bear, and flowers. That’s it right?
Oh wait, you wanna do something? Uh, can a theme park be romantic?
You have a lot of fun actually, and when inevitably he lights part of it on fire, he has stuff for smores.
You save the picture from the tunnel of love. You managed to snap it before he lit it on fire. The tunnel was the point of origin.
Later on down the road he plans more stuff. He may also use fireworks to do your name in the air or something
Steals you a car.
Nagayuki
Without an S/O
Steals stuff with his brother
Gets entirely to many snacks
Does anything but Holiday stuff
With an S/O
Doesn’t want to do anything, but will because you ask him
Takes you for dinner, and he enjoys spending time with you, but because social convention is making him he’s grumpy about it
If you’re the kind of person who is easily embarrassed, he may send you cheesy emails with stupid valentines cards
Chocolate and all KINDS of snacks
Later on down the line he’ll plan more romantic stuff, and buy you nice things with real money so you know he cares
Usagi
Without an S/O
He likes the Holiday and wants someone to do it with SOOOO BAD
Watches all those cute movies and cheesy rom coms
Has a “Friend” he takes out on a date
It doesn’t go well
With an S/O
Oh boy. He’s SO HAPPY
He gets you everything. Flower, roses (ignore the blood it’s fine), and he lets you know he’s arrived to pick you up by having his friends hold him high while he has a boom box playing your favorite song. Even if it’s metal. Even if he thinks the holiday begins at midnight. Your neighbors wont care, right?
You will go to ALL the cheesy stuff. Cute rides at a theme park, which somehow gets burned down later on thanks to someone (Takeyasu)
A dinner and flowers, chocolate. SO MUCH CANDY. He even likes the terrible heart ones. He made you a box filled with ones that have saying that remind him of you
Cuddles, kisses, and smooches that just...don’t stop. Even in public. You gotta tell him to tone it down.
Tora
Without an S/O
Drinks, and mopes
She doesn’t really want to date, but seeing other people happy kinda rubs it in when you’re single
Partakes in day after candy sales
She actually avoids the bars, to many couples being happy and cute
Angrily eats snacks
With an S/O
She doesn’t expect much, other than maybe being one of those annoying couples who steals Every. Booth. In. The. Restaurant.
Please get her presents. Please. She’ll get really happy and flustered
This girl will actually try and make you chocolate from scratch. Sharyu helps. She even wraps them in a cute wrapping paper she draws herself
It’s pretty casual and after bar hopping you spend it at home. You’re with her so she cuts back so she’s not sloshed. She wants to remember being with you.
So many cute kisses.
Hand holding. It still gets her flustered.
Please get your picture taken at some point. She’ll put it by her bed and fall asleep smiling
Ushii
Without an S/O
There’s a Holiday?
He guess he noticed it was harder than normal to get a table for his favorite restaurant
Doesn’t really like sweets so the holiday just annoys him
So many people confess to him and he’s just like “Okay. Cool. Thanks”
With an S/O
He’s not great with the holiday. He’s smart though, so he tries to research what to do
Googles top ten most romantic gesture, luckily has the sense not to propose
Gets you candy, roses, and all the stereotypical stuff
You have to tell him to relax, because all the stuff he’s saying is regurgitated rom com lines
When he does relax, he’s actually really sweet. Stupidly sweet actually.
“I don’t need a holiday to tell me you’re important, you’re already always on my mind, but the candy is nice I guess”
Will watch whatever you want. Is always confused by romance movies, but oh BOY does he love going out to eat with you. Hell. Yes. The desserts are amazing and now he gets to share them with you
Care you a card. It’s ugly, but he tries
Gets you a really cute necklace. It has a small ox on it, so he can always be with you.
Nezumi
Without an S/O
Eats candy and sleeps. It’s no different than any other day, other than people piss him off more.
He doesn’t like how weird people get
They also made out on his locker...and he needed his textbook. Please....Let him get his books
With an S/O
Uses his paths so much that he passes out and HARD CORE NAPS before you go out
Has the perfect gift.
Plays co op video games with you
He doesn’t like people, so you get take out and stay home
You watch movies, but they’re movies like Princess Bride, Warm Bodies, and love stories that aren’t so normal and are more fun
If you’re LGBT he goes out of his way to find a good movie ahead of time, because he loves and supports you and this day is about you two damn it! (The other’s would try to do this for their S/O, but would have a harder time. since most of them are not great with technology like Nezumi is)
So much candy and snacks
Selfies and filters
You fall asleep together and nap
get him a gift. He’ll know it’s coming but it still makes him happy
BONUS CHALLENGE
Doudecuple
Without an S/O
Doesn’t do a whole lot. Has wine and watches the mortals below
Maybe messes with people just a bit to amuse himself
Does his own thing. He really doesn’t care for the holiday
With an S/O
Wine and a dessert charcuterie board
Gets you an expensive gift, but practical. A coat, a scarf. Something to keep you warm and cozy you can use everyday and think of him.
Makes the impossible possible. A romantic setting with only a few people
Getting the tickets for some play or show the last minute
Please do something cheesy, it’ll amuse him, and he’ll secretly keep it
ON THE FLIP SIDE
He may get a gift from you, then anyone who goes in his office will see it.
“Look what my Love got me. Have you beheld it?”
It doesn’t matter if it’s stupid. He’s keeping it forever
Navi
Without and S/O
Stays home and has snacks and chocolates
Maybe organizes his hat collection
Watches fun game shows or anything without romance
With S/O
Has a special hat he wears for the occasion
Gets you one too
Gets you candy and a single rose, as well as a teddy bear
Uses his tablet to find the best places to go with the best rating. Uses his ability to multiply to hold your place in line so you can actually do other stuff
Ferris wheel. He has to hold his hat on but you guys get an AMAZING picture together. It’s his screensaver. He texts it to Nezumi. Nezumi and him start having a couple picture off. Next year, double date.
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