#but fucking hell. its definitely Never been great but the way things have continuously gotten so much unspeakably worse

[pinkseas]

people who say death to america have the right idea

[spacedlexi]

Wait, people think Carver is the best TWDG villain?? I always thought he was basic as hell, and the fact that he was beefing with an 11-years old girl... Now Stranger on the other hand was great, he was super intimidating and off-putting and I was genuinely so scared he would hurt Clementine. I also liked Minnie for the same reasons (she was so creepy/off-putting), but I still think Stranger is the best villain bc he had a great setup while Minnie was kind of a secondary villain. But going back to Lilly/Carver, I also definitely prefer Lilly over Carver even though neither are my favorite... And now I'm kind of curious how you would rank the rest of the TWDG villains? 🤔

carver being the best villain is a sentiment ive heard for years 😭 im sure its coming from the "S2 is the best season" crowd tho which i also dont agree with 💀

the stranger is an effective villain. hes not exactly the typical villain type people expect. but hes very unsettling and him stalking clementine for who even knows how long through the walkie talkie is 🤢 he really makes me feel sick. she was using that talkie to deal with the loss of her parents, and this fucking creep took advantage of that so hard he was able to convince her to trust him. ugh he makes me feel so gross. and think of all the guilt clem must have about that situation. trusting this freak to help her find her parents, when if she had just stayed then lee wouldnt have gotten bit looking for her, and her parents were already dead the entire time anyway. oof. theres no way that isnt one of the biggest regrets of her life

carver is fine. i definitely think his character wouldve made more sense if they put kenny in that role instead. that way theres less "i am a grown man beefing with an 11 year old" and more "this is a child i helped look out for once, and im gonna make sure shes raised Right". but i agree that carver as he is is just over the top. overly villainous to the point of it being a little comical. like when villains are all tough like that my reaction is usually "god i WISH youd fucking kill me already so i dont have to hear your bullshit anymore do you know how GOOFY you sound??". if it was kenny in that role i definitely think they wouldve been able to tone it back a bit, and him "having a good side" wouldve been way more believable. as he is carver is kind of one note

joan.... definitely the weakest of the bunch. i dont really have much to say about her. david isnt even technically a villain but i definitely saw him as the better antagonist for the season. i mean hes definitely a villain in clems eyes. and is a constant semi-antagonist towards javi throughout the whole season. joans just kinda.. there.. doing things behind the scenes to cause conflict until the final confrontation. and then she can just disappear... okay

i like the way the antagonists work in S4. theres more of a discussion around what actually makes someone a villain and the difference between a person who fucked up and made (very horrible) mistakes, and a person who is straight up a threat. and i like that it connects back to the idea of lee and his murder of that senator. did he do something horrible? yes. did he destroy his relationship to his family? yes. does he regret what he did? i think so. and he definitely has guilt about his fucked up relationship with his wife. in S1 they mention how non-guilty people got sent to prison all the time. while lee is Definitely a murderer, we get to see over the season that hes a good guy who just wanted a family and in a moment of rage and betrayal did something he can never take back. this is why i never hated marlon. did he fuck up and do horrible things? of course. but he was a scared fucked up teen leading a group of other scared fucked up teens. he knows he fucked up, and continued fucking up to cover for his previous fuck ups lol. but he can be talked down. its a shame it ends the way it does, but i really like being able to teach aj the difference between people like marlon and people like lilly

lilly takes that kenny/carver idea and applies it to a clementine that has grown up and has been looking out for herself (and baby aj) for years now, instead of the 11 year old trying to figure shit out she was in S2. shes too old for lilly to be able to sway her in a way she couldve been more susceptible to in S2, and when lilly finally realizes this she just turns her attention to aj instead, seeing the potential in him (a potential clem does NOT want aj to live up to, wanting him to get to be a kid and not just a survivor, let alone a killer). lilly is fun because you can see in her that she WANTS clementine on her side, and throughout the season progressively realizes that its just never going to happen. both lilly AND clem come to the realization that this person they once considered family is beyond reason, their views too different, and so the fighting begins. their fight at the end of EP3 really feels like a "so its finally come to this" moment for both of them, their final fight. i always shoot her.

whats interesting about minnie is seeing her evolve from secondary antagonist in EP3 to straight up primary villain in EP4. the things shes done, the way shes been broken. she becomes her own downfall, seeing herself as someone beyond redemption. that this is just who she is now, its how things have to be. because if they didnt have to be this way? well then theres a lot more guilt she'd have to deal with. yelling at her in EP4 to just STOP FOR THE LOVE OF GOD YOU DONT HAVE TO DO THIS ANYMORE but she has been changed (in her eyes) so irreparably that she cant see any other option. and she progressively sees clem as the one who fucked everything up for her, instead of accepting that it could all finally be OVER. after killing sophie, the delta was all she had left. it cant have all been for nothing. and so she blames clem for taking it all away from her, even tho clem is just trying to protect her family. the family that used to be minnies. and so in her rage she gets bit. something else that she couldve avoided. but shes just too lost to her own downward spiral, unable to be reasoned with. by that point she just wants it all to be Over. and she wants to take tenn with her so she can finally pretend things can all go back to the way they used to be. her, sophie, tenn, and their parents all together again, where no more bad things have to happen to them. shes super tragic and i love her for that. and i love how she holds this dark mirror up to clem. clem struggles to let go of her past too, and the guilt she has over the things shes done and people shes hurt. and that if she cant learn to let go and move on she could get lost to it the same way minnie did. theres a reason clem is so quick to accept her fate, but shes finally able to leave that guilt holding her to her past behind in that barn. and she returns to ericson a much happier and lighter person, so much weight finally lifted from her shoulders. its finally over for her too

so yeah. my fave villains are definitely the S4 ones due to their nuance and layers. then the stranger, then carver, then joan. if i had to put david on this list he'd probably be above carver. but thats mainly because he has more nuance than carver ever did

[icgaminglogs]

Nightwing's Log, Night 23

Tim's gotten us a lead. Someone's been siphoning a lot of power lately; it isn't much but it's all we've got to go on. The only downside is that the location is Arkham. I don't think any of us want to go back to that crumbling wreck, but it's the only lead we've got. Let's get this over with.

Place looks as inviting as ever. Even when it wasn't halfway destroyed it wasn't exactly easy on the eye, though that might've been due to its reputation. I would say the worst thing I could find in here are ghosts, but that's A: not true and B: not reassuring anyway.

A light in an abandoned asylum...great. Maybe the ghosts really wouldn't be so bad. Why do I have the distinct feeling Talia knows I'm coming?

Because she probably does. She's predicted everything else, she has to know we'd track her down somehow. Bruce wouldn't have let this go, and neither will we.

I hate this place. I really do. And knowing Talia was continuing Langstrom's research here does not make it any better. Bad enough the Court used it to augment their Talons, now Talia's taking it to make better assassins for the League? What a goddamn hypocrite. Then again, I guess she's the 'end justifies the means' type, isn't she?

And now I have to walk through the creepy mental hospital in the dark. Through an old max security wing. To the basement. What could possibly go wrong. Honestly I'm not sure if I'd rather the League or the ghosts at this point.

God this place gives me the creeps. Makes my skin crawl just being here. But if you want a super-secret lair where guaranteed no one's going to come stumbling in by accident you probably couldn't pick a better spot. I'm pretty sure even the gangs avoid Arkham at this point.

At least the high security wing is kind of obvious; the shift from rooms to obvious cells is kind of a giveaway. I'm not sure if I should be relieved or concerned that I mostly remembered the way. Would've been perfectly happy never coming back here again, honestly.

Found the back-up breaker. Now I'm in a brighter-lit horror movie. You'd think having the lights on would make this place less creepy, and yet here we are.

Oh good. The League blocked my way back to the main hall. Has to be the League because ghosts don't use swords like that. Sure, why not, let's wander around the abandoned almost-definitely-haunted mental hospital a while longer, what's the harm. I hate this.

Y'know, it comes to something when you're actually relieved to see the spooky assassins come out of nowhere.

Oh this place is definitely haunted. Music out of nowhere, doors opening on their own, definitely haunted. Someone had to have turned that radio on, and it damn sure wasn't me. And I think the League prefers silence. Okay, let's keep moving. I got to get up into that tower, ghosts or no ghosts.

Okay, so at least some of the creepy sound was the equipment in the tower. Something tells me I should've just turned it off or cut the cables...Talia's notes said something about sonic experiments on the volunteers. A method of control, that I just fucked up. Something's going on in the lab. If one of those volunteers is loose...

And on top of that, now we get to worry about an actual Lazarus Pit possibly somewhere under Gotham. Just what we needed.

Hope Jason's alright...

Great. There was something in the tank. And now it's loose.

That's a big bat.

What the hell, Talia, were you trying to make Dracula?

Oh shi-

[daenqyu]

— they walk in on their crush changing

includes: bakugou, kirishima, todoroki, midoriya, and tamaki

warnings: kinda suggestive?? swearing  

a/n: i saw multiple tiktoks about this and wanted to write something about it sooo yeah. some of them are a bit longer than others because i got carried away oops. hope you guys like it !!

( gif isn’t mine !! credits go to @orbital-audio )

bakugou katsuki:

listen, i feel like bakugou would act like he doesn’t care at all

but he’s definitely blushing and can’t look at you straight in the eye 

he just wanted to let you know that since kaminari and mina forced him to help them study, you could come too 

so he made his way to your dorm room while looking at his phone

and he doesn’t even knock so you’re quite startled

although you don’t blame him because he’s always hanging out in your room and vice versa

“hey we’re gonna have a study session later tonight, in case you wanna come” his eyes are glued to his phone as he talks, but you still feel embarrassed that he’s in the same room as you while you’re changing 

after a few seconds go by with no response from you, he finally looks up from the device

“i’m talking to you-” the breath gets knocked out of him when he sees you’re in the middle of trying on different outfits 

and apparently you were about to try a new one because you’re just in your freaking underwear 

bakugou may be a lot of things, but he is not a pervert 

so he’s quick to turn around to face the door, his eyes tightly shut even tho he can’t see anything as it is since you’re behind him

“you dumbass, don’t you know how to lock a fucking door?! is not that hard for fuck’s sake” 

you almost want to laugh at the blonde’s state

you’ve never seen him like this before so you might as well tease him about it

“didn't your parents teach you it's impolite to enter a room without knocking first?”

oh he can hear the smirk on your face and he wants nothing more than to go up to you and wipe it off himself 

but he knows you’re still in your underwear 

and while it’s true he’s a gentleman, he’s also a man

seeing his crush in her underwear will most definitely get a reaction out of him

he curls his hands into fists by his side, jaw clenching because he knows you’re probably enjoying this

“just shut up and get dressed”

“is my room, i can stay like this if i want”

“put. something. on”

his tone annoys you

who the hell is he to tell you what to do?

“and what if i don’t want to?”

you’re just buffing of course, you’ve already put on one of bakugou’s shirt that you stole from him a week ago

his patience is running out 

and he’s mad at himself because fuck, why does he have to like you so much?

if it was any other girl he couldn’t have cared less and would’ve just walked out

but it’s you, his crush

you’re so different from everyone else and it makes his blood boil because feelings are stupid and he should be focusing on becoming the number one hero, not some silly high school crush

“okay i'm dressed”

a sigh of relief escapes his lips as he turns around, but it doesn’t take long before his eyes are wide open as he takes in your figure

oh

you’re wearing his shirt

it ends just above your mid thigh and it falls around your figure loosely, obviously too big for you

bakugou can feel butterflies in his stomach at the sight 

why are you so pretty? 

“what was that you were saying when you walked in?”

you’re so calm and collected, walking around with only his shirt on 

normally he hates when people wear his clothes, but it looks so good on you he can’t even bring himself to be annoyed

“we’re having a study session tonight,” his voice is low and he fixes his gaze on the wall behind you. “and you can come too, if you want to that is”

“wait that’s a great idea, i’ve been falling behind on english recently”

he nods and you frown at his actions 

sure bakugou can be quiet, when he’s not mad, but he looks  rather…shy?

you smirk once again, knowing what this is all about

“don’t tell me the bakugou katsuki has never seen a girl naked before?”

“the fuck are you talking about?”

“well is either that or you like me because why else would you be so red right now?”

he groans when you say that

anyways he uhhh got tired of you not getting all the hints he’s been dropping and just straight up corners you against the wall

your heart is about to burst out of your chest at the close proximity and the feeling only intensifies when he smirks

he leans down, lips merely inches away from your own

“seeing as you’re not pushing me away right now, i say you like me too, dumbass”

well he’s not wrong soooo

you end up kissing after that✨

( gif isn’t mine !! credits go to its rightful owner )

kirishima eijirou:

oh boy, this poor baby

he would be the type to apologize around 100 times and even when you told him it was fine and that you didn’t care, he would still feel guilty

ok so what happened was you were getting ready for your date with kirishima

because yes, he finally asked you out and you couldn’t be happier with life at the moment

and he wanted to know how much longer you were gonna take since he was already done

but you wouldn’t answer his texts

spoiler alert: you were just showering but he was too impatient and also he just wanted to see you again hehe he’s so cute

anyways,,

he makes his way to your room and knocks on the door 

it’s more of like a warning because he doesn’t even wait for a response, he just barges in

you had gotten out of the shower like 3 minutes ago and were in the process of drying your hair in the middle of the room, your back facing kirishima 

“hey y/n how much longer do you think- shit!”

his voice scares you, but you don’t move because you know it’ll be worse if you do 

so you stay frozen in your place

kirishima notices the droplets of water falling from your hair and down your spine before slowly falling down the curves of your-

he flushes completely, his face now matching his dyed hair perfectly, and he turns around with both of his hands covering his eyes

“i’m so so so sorry! that was so unmanly of me. i should’ve just waited until you texted me, but i missed you and wanted to see you so i came over and didn’t wait for an answer and then i saw you and oh god you’re naked and-”

“kirishima,”

he shuts up when he hears your soft voice calling his name

“yeah?”

“calm down”

after that he just stays quiet, trying to calm the erratic beating of his heart and not let his imagination run wild

you should be the one that’s flustered because your best friend and crush just saw your bare ass

but if anything, kirishima’s the one who feels like he’s about to faint from seeing so much skin

he thinks it’s really unmanly of him to see you naked without your consent so he’s on the brink of an existential crisis

meanwhile, as kirishima rethinks all of his life choices, you finish drying your hair and continue to put on your outfit, knowing kirishima wouldn’t turn around any time soon

he’s still facing away from you even when you’ve finished dressing up

you giggle, thinking about how cute he is before tapping his shoulder 

“you can look now, kiri”

even with your permission, he’s still hesitant about his movements

he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything so that’s why he genuinely doesn’t know what to do

kirishima turns around slowly, eyes now focused on the floor

“i’m really sorry about that, y/n. i didn’t mean to i swear and i’m sorry if i made you uncomfortable but-”

“kiri, i’m not mad at you”

“you’re not?”

“of course not, i know it was an accident”

well thank god because he wouldn’t forgive himself if he made you upset 

“besides, you were eventually gonna see me naked”

it was a joke

supposed to be

but kirishima whips his head your way and his eyes almost pop out of their sockets 

a part of him is shy sure, but the other part wants to run laps after hearing you say that

“well yeah but that’s different…” he scratches the back of his neck nervously and your heart swells for the boy in front of you

he really is so sweet

he just wants you to be completely comfortable around him

how could you not be in love with him? 

“how about we forget this ever happened, i finish getting ready, and then we go on our date? hm?”

he nods eagerly after hearing you say that, if you’re happy then he’s absolutely content 

you smile at him before standing up on your tip toes and leaving a chaste kiss against his cheek

of course he blushes again

he’ll never get tired of your cuteness 

or you in general

but this time he’s more confident when he pulls you to his chest in a tight hug

“the view was really nice by the way”

“kirishima!”

“what? i'm just saying you should be proud”

“you’re so stupid”

“stupidly in love with you that is”

he’s got a dumb smile on his face after he says that

and it only widens when you take his hand in yours to sit him down on your bed 

yup, he’s head over heels for you

( gif isn’t mine !! credits go to its rightful owner )

todoroki shouto:

out of the five of them, he’d DEFINITELY be the most chill about it

sure, he’d still feel embarrassed and what not

but he wouldn’t make such a big deal about it

simply because he doesn’t want to make things awkward between you two

so he decides it’s best if he just keeps acting like he normally would

you texted him to come over so you could watch some movies together 

and he had some homework to do but it’s not like he was gonna pass up on the opportunity of spending quality time with you 

unlike the other first years,

todoroki actually knocks and waits for your response

because he has manners, period.

“come on in!”

you said it was okay to come in

so why the hell are you in the middle of changing shirts?????

he wastes no time in closing his eyes

refusing to keep looking at you when you probably don’t even know he’s watching

“um y/n?”

“yes?”

“what are you doing?”

“i’m changing, isn’t it obvious?” your chuckle makes his cheeks heat up 

was this amusing to you?

because he was seconds away from having a heart attack 

however he doesn’t show it

instead, he just continues to keep his eyes closed while trying to think about literally anything else except your bare skin

key word: trying

because he can’t seem to get the image of your clothed breasts out of his mind and he thinks he’s about to go insane 

he also scolds himself because a gentleman shouldnt do that 

but you don’t seem to care at all and that confuses him so much (???

“why do you have your eyes closed?”

“are you done changing”

“yeah”

when he opens his eyes again you’re sitting down on your bed, laptop placed in front of you as you scroll down on netflix

now fully dressed

he lets out a sigh of relief before clearing his throat and sitting down next to you

and he thinks he’s being slick and smooth

but he’s not

he’s actually almost completely stiff 

and when you subconsciously brush your knee against his, he flinches

you frown at his reaction

“are you okay?”

“yeah, why do you ask?”

“because you’re acting weird”

“am not”

“you are”

the banter goes on for a while until you finally figure it out

the way his eyes occasionally look down on your chest only to quickly look away with a blush on his cheeks it's what gives him away

“wait, are you embarrassed just because you saw my boobs?”

cue todoroki wanting to get the hell out of your room

“i’m not embarrassed” 

“your blush says otherwise, todoroki”

he doesn’t know what to say afterwards so he just sits there with a pout on his pretty lips and his eyebrows furrowed

he’s so shy and cute🥺

“if you want to, you can take your shirt off so we’ll be tied”

your tone is teasing as you continue to scroll on your computer, not really giving much thought to what you said

except you forgot todoroki takes everything quite literally

the grin falls from your lips as soon as you see todoroki, indeed, taking off his shirt 

“w-what are you doing?!”

“you said we need to be tied”

“todoroki, that was a joke!”

the roles have been reversed because now you're the one who’s all flustered and looking away from him

he blinks once, then twice before smiling at you

“now who’s being shy?”

“i- shut up and watch the movie”

( gif isn’t mine !! credits go to its rightful owner )

midoriya izuku:

he would die

not literally duh

but he’d want to disappear right then and there

you know that one scene where hatsume is pressed up against him and he blushes a shit ton and is just like “b-b-boobs”?

well yeah he’s like that

except he can barely talk because of how embarrassed he is 

he’d also, like kirishima, apologize a lot

he literally just feels like he committed a crime

and you’re like “midoriya, it’s not that deep”

but he’s just upset with himself 

you had told him earlier that you needed some help with your homework

and since he’s such a wonderful friend, he didn’t hesitate to tell you that he’d be more than happy to help

so now he’s happily walking to your room because he loves study dates with you

even tho they’re not dates at all

but still

he loves them

especially whenever you get a question right and you just look up at him with big puppy eyes, waiting for him to praise you

and he does

because you deserve it

you work so hard and he admires you for that

ok BAcK to the point,,,

(i’m sorry i just love this man so much, he makes me so soft)

here’s the deal

midoriya knocks on your door right?

but you don’t hear it because you’re blasting music on your speaker while singing your heart out

so he lets himself in

tho he wants to run back out when he sees your naked back is facing him

you’re changing; that’s the first thing he notices 

the second thing he notices is that you’re standing in front of a mirror

and you’re not wearing a bra

he yelps before turning around and you jump because you hadn’t noticed him 

“izuku? what are you-”

“i’m so sorry y/n! i didn’t mean to invade your privacy like this a-and i didn’t know you were changing and so i opened the door and then i saw you and oh god you’re not wearing a shirt which isn’t bad you know, i m-mean i'm not saying you look bad because ha believe me you don’t but-”

“oh my god dude, would you relax?”

you laugh as you finish putting on your hoodie 

he frowns, you’re laughing? in a situation like this?! are you okay???

“again, i’m sorry and it’s okay if you want me to go because it’s weird and i don’t want you to feel uncomfortable because of me so-”

“ok izuku, first of all stop talking,” he quickly shuts his mouth, still facing the closed door so you don’t see his tomato-like cheeks. “second, turn around,” you place your hands on his shoulders to make him look at you and he tenses at the touch, but turns around anyways 

you offer him a kind smile, the one that makes him fall harder for you everyday and that’s enough to ease his nerves a bit

“third, quit freaking out. it’s not like i’m gonna kill you or anything”

“b-but how are you so...calm?”

“uhh because i don’t really care?” 

he doesn’t know why, but his heart hurts a little after hearing you say that

is not like he expects you to actually reciprocate his feelings but,,

he didn’t have an effect on you whatsoever? not even a little bit?

“and besides, it’s you so i don’t mind”

“what do you mean?”

you shrug, smirking at the green haired boy, “well you like me, right?”

he almost stops breathing 

maybe he did for a few seconds

he looks at you, a mix of emotions flashing through his expression 

is he relieved? is he scared? is he happy?

he doesn’t  k n o w

neverthless, he nods shyly, looking away from your captivating gaze

“and i like you so it’s okay”

midoriya.exe has stopped working

someone PLEASE calm this boy down

he’s about to explode from feeling so much happiness 

“you do?!”

“of course” you smile at him one last time, before interlacing your fingers with his and sitting down on the rug next to your bed so you can study 

or maybe you got a little carried away and ended up cuddling all evening while eating ramen

but that’s besides the point

( gif isn’t mine !! credits go to its rightful owner )

tamaki amajiki:

sweet little baby

he faints :D

no but seriously

he does.

are we surprised? 

nope, not at all

he can’t look at you for more than 5 seconds without getting nervous as it is,

but after he saw you half naked?!

yeah no, that’s too much for tamaki

his body shuts down because he cannot handle it

nejire told him to go check up on you because you seemed off at school

which tamaki also noticed because he’s very observant with people (especially you) but he preferred to not say anything 

of course his first response to nejire is straight up: no

he’s too shy 

and he’s scared because what if you get mad at him? or tell him to go away?

he thinks it’s better to give you your space and if you want to talk to him, then he’s more than ready to listen

but nejire wouldn’t shut up about it

then mirio butted in too and they were just whining a lot and he got tired of hearing them talk

now here he is, standing in front of your room with a shaky hand hovering against the wooden door

much like todoroki, he knocks and patiently waits for a response 

which he receives quickly 

“who is it?”

“tamaki”

“ahh tama, let yourself in!”

he blushes at the nickname and finally opens the door

he’s about to go sit on your desk chair or something 

but then he sees you

you’re only in your underwear, struggling to put on a hoodie 

and then you jump to try and get it on

and that makes it worse because you’re wearing a  b r a 

long story short,

he falls to the floor :D

the big ‘thud’ startles you and even more so when you see tamaki’s unconscious body on the floor

“shit, tama are you okay?”

it takes him a good 5 minutes to open his eyes again 

he feels a cold towel pressed up against his forehead and he frowns at the feeling

when he turns his head around, he notices that he’s laying down on your bed

but you're nowhere to be seen 

“thank god you’re awake” 

your voice comes from behind him and that’s when he realizes he’s not only laying down on your bed, but also on your lap

“you really worried me!”

cue him blushing like there’s no tomorrow and stuttering 

“s-sorry. i was just s-surprised to see you c-changing and i’m sorry i didn’t tell you i was coming b-beforehand”

you shake your head, “that’s okay tama, i’m not mad at you”

he just nods because he’s afraid he’ll say something dumb if he talks

you brush your fingers through his indigo hair and he swears he can feel himself falling more in love with you in that precise moment 

you smile down at him

“what did you come here for anyway? not that i mind, but you know”

“nejire told me y-you seemed down today s-so i came to check up on you”

butterflies flutter in your stomach at his sweet words

“aww you’re so sweet, but i’m okay. i was just feeling sad”

he sits up to look at you better and he doesn’t miss the way you pout when his hair is no longer in between your fingers 

which makes his heart speed up 

“are you okay?”

his question is so genuine and he seems so concerned, it makes you want to keep him in your pocket forever

“i am now” 

he smiles at your response, happy that you feel better

“i’m glad”

“now come here, i wanna play with your hair”

and who is he to deny such request?

[hops-hunny]

College Girls

Pairing: Rodrick Heffley x Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.2k

Request: anon “How about Rodrick invites the reader to a party (he’s been crushing on her for the longest) but she plays hard to get and at the party her friends try to convince her to give him a chance and later it leads to them playing 7 minutes in heaven and they confess to each other and it goes from there ;) it could end in smut or fluff your way ly <3”

Summary: (college!au) College girls and their games, good thing Rodrick loves to play.

Warnings: Mentions of weed and alcohol, making out, teasing

A/N: Ok I forgot to make them confess but it’s implied sorry anon. I still hope you enjoy it!

If there was one thing Rodrick knew, college was a shit ton different than high school was. However, that wasn’t a bad thing. Unlimited booze and bud, hot chicks, and parties that never ended? He was practically in heaven! He had grown into himself, feeling more confident than ever since Heather had rejected him his senior year. In fact, he couldn’t recall the last time he thought about her but if he had to pinpoint it, it was a few months ago when she had hit him up, begging the boy to give her a chance. Oh the irony behind that. That was another good thing about college. In high school, all the girls thought he was just some loser who wasted too much time on a band that would always be shit. 

But with years of experience under their belt and more free time to practice, Löaded Diaper was beginning to become a big deal in their rinky dink shithole off a small town. God was he glad too because with clout, also came hot girls in skirts that barely covered their ass. The opportunity for endless amounts of hookups was an absolute dream come true, but all dreams lose their shine eventually. When fucking became a mere thing to pass the time between class, gigs, and parties, he realized that it wasn’t as great as he thought it was. He was starting to crave something more, something like or, someone like- her.

God she was a babe. Rodrick still remembered the first time he saw her. Löaded Diaper was doing another house gig, everyone in the crowd dancing and moving to the intense music. And all of a sudden, a strobe light glossed over her perfectly, almost like a halo of blue light and his eyes were hooked. She was there with her friends, one of them whispering something in her ear which caused her to lock eyes with his. Pretty (e/c) eyes meeting his own brown ones. It was almost perfect, almost. As soon as they had finished the last note of their song, without missing a beat she swiftly made her exit and he made his way after her. Rodrick jumped off the stage, chasing after her and her friends all the way till they reached the curb. He grabbed her arm causing the girl to look back.

“Hey, uh, did you enjoy the gig?” He asked, running his fingers through his sweaty hair nervously. He felt his nerves rise even more at the sound of her friends’ giggles.

“I wouldn’t have stayed the whole gig if I didn’t, would I?” she retorted, rolling her eyes as she began to open the passenger door of the black mercedes.

“Yeah, I guess that was a dumb question..” he trailed off as she closed her door. His eyes widened at the fact he hadn’t gotten her name prompting him to take off after the car. He felt relieved as the girl rolled down her window, looking up at him through her thin framed sunglasses. “Wait! I didn’t get your name, I’m Rodrick.” he smirked, watching as she pulled her sunglasses up to rest on the top of her head.

“Didn’t give it.” she quipped, sending him a wink as her friend took off into the distance. Who was she? All he knew about her was that she had a mouth on her and lived on the other side of campus. A lot of girl’s fit that description so it wasn’t easy asking around about her. However, as he stood here in the corner of the party his fraternity was throwing, he’d recognize a pair of nice legs like that from anywhere. His eyes took in her appearance. She had on a denim mini skirt, black turtleneck and a pair of knee high boots that matched. The boy had to practically stop himself from gawking at how good she looked, curves clinging to every bit of the form fitting outfit. He cleared his throat as his friend nudged him, looking to see what he wanted.

“Uh don’t look now, but I think that girl you were eye fucking is definitely eye fucking you back dude. Is that the chick from the gig a few weeks ago that you won’t shut up about?" Rodrick glared at the man, shoving him into the wall before walking towards her. He watched as her friends “coincidentally” all began to head off in other directions, leaving her to offer him a flirty little smile behind the drink she’d been nursing.

“Well if it isn’t the little drummer boy! To what do I owe the pleasure, Rodrick?” she purred, sitting down her now empty cup. She stepped forward, leaving them to be pressed chest to chest. It could easily be blamed on the crowded room but the two knew otherwise. He smirked back at her, wrapping his arms around her waist securely.

“I’m a simple man. I see a pretty girl sending looks my way, I come.” his eyes widened as he began to overthink his word choice. “N-not like that! Like I come over not like cum in my pants. I-I’m not like some virgin...well I’m not some man whore either! I don’t fuck around a lot. Not like the option isn’t there bu-” he quit his nervous ramblings at the sound of her laughter. He relaxed, smiling as the girl wrapped his arms around her neck. He began to lean in thinking she would ask him for a kiss but instead she missed his lips, putting hers next to his ear before whispering,

“Wanna dance?” Before he could answer, the girl (who’s name he still didn’t catch) was dragging him to the dance floor, moving his hands to rest on her hips. He tried to keep his movements as fluid as possible. It took him a bit but eventually his movements matched hers, as they swayed to the beat of the song. She pressed her head against his shoulder, looking up at him as she continued the movements against his pelvic area. “I love this song, it’s one of my favorites.” she whispered. He didn’t know if it was because he was cross faded or his enjoyment of the movements but D’Evils by SiR was beginning to become one of his favorite songs too. How could it not when there was such a pretty girl pressed against his front?

“Yeah? It suits you.” he muttered, leaning his head down to hover his own chapped lips above the girl’s soft gloss covered ones. She hummed in agreement, both of them slowly inching towards each other before she stopped, letting out a cheeky giggle.

“Did you really think I was going to kiss you that easily? You’ve gotta earn it.” She said, dragging a manicured hand against the skin of his neck. He shivered a bit as goosebumps formed, watching as she disappeared back into the crowd. He swore some, groaning as he fiddled with the growing bulge in his jeans. Was he out of the game for too long or had girls always been this hard to get? Either way, he didn’t care. Rodrick was gonna get this girl and her name by the end of the night if it was the last thing he ever did. He broke out of his thoughts, keeping sight of her figure making its way through the beaded curtain which led to the basement of the large frat house. Quickly he chased after her, trying to keep up with her. And, as if on purpose, every time he’d get close she’d flash him that breathtaking smile and continue on her path. Finally, she reached her supposed destination, a small group of people on couches, discussing the plans to play something. 

“So, what’s the game?” He asked, causing everyone to look up at him as he sat on the couch farthest from her. He looked at the bottle in the center of the table, proud of himself and his seating choice. The further he was away, the more likely the bottle was to land on the pretty thing across from him.

“7 minutes in heaven. You down?” A brunette girl asked, a flirty look in her buzzed eyes. He ignored her small attempt at an advance, nodding as he locked eyes with the girl of the hour. He shot her a wink, smirking as she rolled her eyes, biting her lip to hide the smile that was making its way onto her face. For someone so adamant about playing this game of cat and mouse, she seemed to be fighting off her feelings very harshly. None of that mattered now though. If there was a god, he hoped he’d be on his side. Never had he wanted to be stuffed inside a muggy dark closet with someone so badly.

“Of course I’m down. Do I look like a pussy to you?” he asked, watching as the (h/c) haired girl opened her mouth. He gave her a pointed look, tilting his head at her. “Don’t answer that, legs.” The girl looked surprised at the nickname but didn’t say anything, trailing her acrylic nails up the curve of her thigh. His brown eyes followed curiously, jumping slightly as she closed her legs quickly giving him a mocking pout. Tonight was going to be a long night.

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

Round after round was filled with surprises, none involving Rodrick or the mystery girl of his affections. Sometimes, the two people involved would cheer or jump up excitedly, ceasing the moment that they were desperately waiting for. Other times they would groan in disgust and hell, he couldn’t blame him with the hygiene of some of these people. Have they ever even heard of a shower, deodorant? Only their BO could tell. However, his odds grew more and more as it was finally his turn to spin the bottle. He picked it up, kissing the empty beer bottle as he made up some prayer. He let out a deep breath before spinning the bottle. As he watched it spin, the only thought he could seem to form was, ‘Please, please please. Cmon, cmon, cmon!��

Finally the bottle began to halt, making a rumbling noise as it stopped. His eyes followed the nose of it, letting out an internal cheer as his eyes met the (e/c) eyes from across from him. He pulled up his jeans before walking over to the girl, holding a hand out to her. She eyed it before smirking up at him, allowing her to pull him up. Rodrick looked down at her hand before tangling his fingers with her own, pulling her towards the closet. Once they both were in there, silence overcame them leaving the muffled music from upstairs to be the filler between silent space. He cleared his throat some, catching the shorter girl’s attention.

“Sooo, um. Would this count as earning it?” He quipped, giving her a flirty grin. The girl rolled her eyes before moving closer to him, pulling him down to her own height as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Rodrick wasted no time, pulling the girl by her hips and planting his on hers. The kiss was everything he’d hope it’d be. Passionate, hot, and filled with every bit of desire that had built up over the course of the party. He nibbled at her lip, causing a moan to slip from her lips. He smirked a bit, pulling away some to look into her eyes a bit.

“I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting you to be a good kisser. You looked like you would give me a lot of teeth and too much tongue.” she giggled some, tugging his bottom lip between her teeth before releasing it. He rolled his eyes, smirking as he leaned in, nibbling on her neck a bit. He felt victory overcome him at the soft whimper that came from her lips.

“My pride’s a bit wounded, princess.” he purred, lifting her up as he pinned her against the wall. He leaned back in for another kiss, this one more deep and intense than the last. He groaned softly as she tangled her fingers in his hair, gripping at it slightly. He slid his tongue over her bottom lip, quickly tangling it with hers when she opened her mouth. They’re tongues danced a bit, fighting for dominance before he won. He absorbed her moans, sucking on her tongue as he slid a hand under her skirt, stroking the skin of her upper thighs. Rodrick noted how soft her skin was before gripping at it harshly, stroking her hips with his thumbs.

Just as he slid his hands under her shirt, a knock broke them out of their kiss. He groaned in annoyance, pulling away and fixing her clothes for her as the door was ripped open. The (e/c) eyed girl was the first to walk out, looking back at him as if she had something to say.

“(Y/n).” she said, causing him to look at her in confusion. “My name? It’s (Y/n). I hope this isn’t a habit of yours, making out with girls whose names you don’t even know.” she said, looking up at him expectantly. His mouth opened and closed as he stuttered, searching for the words to say. He cleared his throat before grabbing her hand, beginning the path to his own room.

“Not anymore it isn’t.”

[thebigbadbatswife]

One Single Thread Of Gold Tied Me To You

Summary - Everyone is tied to their soulmate with a red thread tied to their wrist. All except Y/N’s, who’s thread is gold. Tired of waiting for her soulmate to come and find her, she decides to go and find them. It doesn’t go quite how she expected it to.

Warnings - A little angst

[A/N] - This is a soulmate au where you and your soulmate are attached by an unbreakable red thread (or, in this case, gold), tied to your wrist. This was inspired by the song 'Invisible String' by Taylor Swift.

Word Count - 4k

As the early morning sun slowly filtered into your room, through your blinds, you carefully examined the thread attached to your wrist. Everyone had one; it was your link to your soulmate. Yours was different to everyone else though. While everyone had red, yours was gold. As you turned your wrist, it caught the sunlight and glistened a little.

Everyone you knew had always been fascinated by it. As was nearly every stranger you met. Why was it gold? What exactly made you and your soulmate so different to everyone else’s? Questions you had often asked yourself as well. Why were you two so different?

Your family had a theory that whoever it was, they were rich. Very rich. That was surely the reason it was gold. Nothing else made sense to them. Meanwhile your friends were completely convinced that your soulmate was some kind of God.

“Come on, Y/N! It’s the only thing that makes sense!” Tracey said before taking another sip of her third glass of wine. Her usually bright emerald eyes were glazed over from all of the alcohol. “Why else would it be gold?”

“You gotta admit, Tracey might be drunk right now, but she has a good point!” Skylar joined in. She took her brown eyes off the blonde and looked over at you before continuing. “Oh! What if your soulmate is like Wonder Woman or Superman or something! How cool would that be?”

You rolled your eyes and took a sip of your own glass of wine. “Stop it. You’re both being ridiculous,” you had told them because they really were being ridiculous. There was no way your soulmate was a member of the Justice League, let alone an Amazonian Princess or the Man of Steel.

You were, of course, curious of your soulmate yourself. Who wouldn’t be curious of the person they’re destined to end up with? But you didn’t think up the crazy theories your friends and family liked to come up with. Instead you wondered things like, what kind of hobbies do they have? What’s their favourite colour? What type of music do they listen to? Were they a cat person or a dog person? And other things like that.

Another thing about the thread that tied you to your soulmate was that, while everyone could see the thread around your wrist, only you and soulmate could see where it led. While you had always wanted to follow it, you had decided that it would be better to focus on having a decent job and place to live first.

During that time a small part of you had hoped that maybe your soulmate would come looking for you, but since they clearly weren’t, maybe you should? After all, you had a well paying job and a great apartment, so why not? Every job was legally required to allow people time off to go search, so that wouldn’t be an issue. It was paid time off as well so you didn’t have to worry about money. You also had a car so you wouldn’t have to spend a shit ton of money on travel. At least, you hoped you wouldn’t. In truth, for all you knew, your soulmate could be in a completely different country. Now that would certainly complicate things.

Shaking that thought away (because there was no way fate could be that cruel), you got out of bed and set about putting the wheels in motion that would allow you to start following your thread

‘ Welcome to Gotham City! ’ the sign read as you drove past it. When you had told those close to you, your plan, they had been super supportive. Now, if they knew where your thread had lead you, you doubted they’d be as supportive. Hell, even you were rethinking things now. Out of all the cities for your soulmate to be in, it just had to be this one.

How did you know it was this city that they resided in and it wasn’t just another stop along the way? It was hard to explain, but you had a feeling deep within your gut, almost like a sixth sense that just yelled “Yep! This is the place!”.

You felt extremely uneasy as you drove through the city. It was night-time as well which did absolutely nothing to help. Honestly, of all the times to arrive in Gotham, night-time was definitely the worst. Well, there was nothing you could do about that now, you just had to keep on going, so you did.

The golden thread snaked through the gothic city and went from the “posh” part of the city all the way to the worst part of the city. The buildings were run down and most of the windows were boarded up. Each turn you took there were shiftier and shiftier characters on every corner. You started to get the feeling that you really shouldn’t be here. Plus you were starting to wonder if you really wanted to know who your soulmate was if they were hanging out in neighbourhoods like this.

You brought your car to a stop in front of a particularly dark and sinister looking alleyway. A particularly dark and sinister looking alleyway that your golden thread lead straight into. Coming to this part of this city was already a bad idea. Continuing to follow that thread to what had to be your certain doom was even worse. Yet, at this point in your mission, you were pretty much committed.

You couldn’t help out a quiet and very nervous laugh as you climbed out of your car. ‘ This is fucking insane ,’ you thought as you stepped out of your car. Before shutting and locking it (though you doubt that would do much to protect it in this area), you grabbed your pepper spray. ‘ I really hope your worth all this .’

As you followed the thread down the alleyway, you heard a sudden loud bang. A gunshot. You stopped in your tracks and you could feel your heart pick up its pace. Your thread lead in the direction the shot had come from. ‘ I really hope you weren’t involved with that .’ Taking a deep breath, you continued down the alleyway.

The alleyway lead out onto another street. There was a small crunching sound as you stepped out onto the street. Taking a step back, you looked to the ground to see what you had just stepped on. The ground was littered with small shards of glass. Looking up, you figured the shards of glass were from the bulbs from the streetlamps. Something had broken them. It didn’t take you long to figure out what, or rather who ,was responsible.

Further down the street, taking on group of ten men, was none other than Gotham’s Caped Crusader. The Batman.

You quickly ducked back into the alley you had just left. You then carefully peered around the wall, so you could watch the fight. You were well aware of the fact that your thread was leading straight toward the fight. Which meant that your soulmate was involved.

You watched the fight intensely, both intrigued and terrified to figured which one of the men was on the end of your thread. There was a voice in the back of your head praying hardcore that it was the hero in the centre of the fight.

Batman was a blur of black and dark grey as he rapidly made his way through the group of men. With a variety of different punches, kicks and gadgets, he made short work of them. During his combat flow, you followed your thread with your eyes and a small gasp left you as you realised who the other end was attached to.

Holy fuck. You’re friends had, kind of, been right. While your soulmate wasn’t Wonder Woman or Superman, like they had suggested, he was apart of the Justice League’s ‘Big Three’. Your soulmate was Batman . At least now you knew why he hadn’t come looking for you. He’d been busy saving the world.

Now you had to figure out how to approach him before he ended up disappearing into the night.

Exiting your cover, you took your thread between your finger and thumb and gently tugged on it a couple of times.

Batman looked at his end of the thread curiously as your tugs had gotten his attention. Then his head drifted upwards, following where it lead till his eyes settled on you.

If he was shocked, he didn’t show it. He just stood there, his eyes never leaving you. Part of you wanted to cower away from the intense stare, but you willed yourself not to. He was your soulmate, and you weren’t a criminal,  you had no reason to be afraid.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, finally ending the silence between you. His voice was deep and almost robotic sounding. Probably some sort of voice modulator to help hide his identity, you figured.

“In Gotham? Yeah, this place really sucks,” you replied, thinking about all the things you had heard about this city, “but I came here to find my soulmate; to find you.”

“You shouldn’t have.” His voice was sharp and serious as he spoke. He also sounded irritated at your sudden appearance, which caused you to frown. That couldn’t be right… could it?

“What?” You hated how meek and pathetic your voice sounded, but you couldn’t help it. Wasn’t this supposed to be a happy moment? One of the happiest in your life in fact. Instead you felt like you were being scolded rather than meeting the person who was supposed to be your other half.

“I didn’t want to meet you. Now I suggest you go home. It’s not safe here.”

What? You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. There was pressure behind your eyes and your throat tightened. You took a shaky breath as you took a step backwards away from him. It quickly sunk in that the man you’d been destined to be with, the man you had thought about since you were old enough to understand the concept of a soulmate, wanted nothing to do with you.

“I-I’m sorry I disturbed you.” Your voice broke as you fought back the tears that threatened to fall. You weren’t going to give him that satisfaction. You then turned around and ran back toward where you had left your car.

As fast as you could, you started your car up and made your way to a safer part of the city. It didn’t take you long to find a somewhat empty parking lot to park in. Once the engine was off, you screamed and aggressively slammed against the wheel as you let the tears freely fall.

You felt like a complete and utter fucking idiot. Of course he didn’t want you. You’d probably just get in the way of him saving the world or something like that. Besides, what was that article you had seen a few months ago? Something about Catwoman and a relationship between the two? While it happened very rarely, some people in the world had been known to reject their soulmate because they had found someone they deemed better. Is that what had happened? Whatever the reason, you could feel your heart breaking.

You had used to think that, out of all the members of the Justice League, Batman had been one of the cooler members. Now all you could think was that he was a massive jerk.

Maybe it was your own fault for romanticising the whole thing and thinking that your meeting would be something out of a fairytale. Apparently fate was far crueller than you could have ever thought it to be.

Bruce watched as she ran away from him, back down the alleyway she had come from. A small voice in the back of his head told him to go after her. To grab her, hold her close and apologise, tell her that he hadn’t meant it. He ignored it and headed off in the opposite direction, back to where he had left the batmobile.

Over his comms, he heard a barely audible sigh and he could easily picture his butler and lifelong friend shaking his head in disappointment. No doubt he was going to get an earful once he got back to the batcave. Well it certainly wasn’t the first time.

As the batmobile pulled up in the batcave, he could see Alfred waiting for him. ‘ Here we go ,’ he thought as he got out of his car and removed his cowl.

“I don’t want to hear it,” he stated as he walked past him and toward the batcomputer. He set his cowl down on the desk. Even as the words left his mouth he knew he had wasted his breath. If there was one thing that Alfred had done consistently since Bruce had started down this path, it was letting him know when he disagreed with something he did.

“Was that really necessary Master Bruce? She’s come all of this way…” Alfred started, but ended up trailing off. There was a small moment of silence before he continued. “You know, I remember a small boy who couldn’t wait to go out there and find…” Before he could finish what he was saying, Bruce promptly cut him off.  

“What would you have me do, Alfred?!” His voice echoed off of the cave’s walls and disturbed some of the bats still hanging on the ceiling. Bruce gestured toward his equipment and the display cases that held some rather badly damaged batsuits. All of them testaments to injuries that had come far too close to killing him. “Would you really have me force this life on to her? The dangers, the no guarantee I’ll come home…” He took a deep breath and rested both his hands on the surface of his desk. “She deserves so much better.” His voice was quiet, but still easily heard in the, almost, silent cave.

“With all due respect, sir, I believe she should be allowed to make that decision, not you,” Alfred replied before leaving the batcave, not giving Bruce a chance to respond.

He looked in the direction of the stairs that lead up into the manor. The direction that Alfred had headed in. Was he right? Should he be leaving it up to her to decide what she wanted? But with all the dangers he faced nightly… No, it was better for him to stay far away from her.

Over the following week Bruce found himself distracted. It didn’t matter where he was, what he was doing, he couldn’t focus. And considering what he did once night fell over Gotham, to say being unfocused really wasn’t good was a complete understatement of the situation. He had been having far too many close calls recently.

He couldn’t get it out of his head. The way she had looked at him as he told her he didn’t want to meet her, that she should leave. Alfred’s words echoed in his mind and he found himself questioning the decisions he had made that night. Something that Bruce rarely, if ever, did. Everything he did was meticulously planned and there was never any doubt when he made a decision. Was this what happened once you met your soulmate and rejected them?

Bruce was sure that the rest of the Justice League had taken notice. With how off beat and slow to react to certain things, it would be hard not to. Of course, if they had, none of them had mentioned it to him. Apparently they knew better. For the time being, at least. He was sure it wouldn’t be long before they did try to pry into his personal life.

Which lead him here. On the roof of the building opposite of Y/N’s apartment building. He hadn’t needed to do any extensive research to find her, or learn her name, because he had been in this exact spot a couple of years ago.

Two years ago Bruce’s own curiosity had gotten the better of him. He blamed Clark and his soulmate, a reporter by the name of Lois Lane, for it. He had seen them one too many times in the Watchtower together and had found himself wondering who exactly his soulmate was and what they was like. As a result, he had gone looking for them. Not because he wished to finally meet them, but so he could make sure his soulmate was safe and happy. And she was, so he had left. Only ever checking up on her every now and then to make sure she had stayed that way.

He looked down at the golden thread that came out of his gauntlet and lead down toward the apartment he’d been watching. Both as Bruce Wayne and Batman he had made sure to keep it well hidden. With its unique colouring he couldn’t allow anyone to see it. It would be all too easy for his enemies to find her if they did see it.

He knew that by being here he was easily undoing everything he had done to keep her safe, but, then again, had she not done exactly that when she had tracked him down in Gotham? Besides, and while he would never say it out loud, Alfred had been right. It should be up to Y/N to decide whenever or not she wanted all the baggage that came with him being in her life. Baggage that had driven more than one person from his life…

He shook that thought from his head and got up from his crouched position on the roof. Bruce then leapt from the roof and allowed himself to fall for a couple of seconds before opening up his cape and let it catch the wind that was rushing past him. He silently glided over to her apartment’s balcony.

Y/N was in her apartment alone. She was sat on her sofa, the light from the tv was the only thing illuminating the room.

Bruce was unsure of how exactly to go about this. Back in Gotham he had originally thought of approaching her as Bruce Wayne, but quickly discarded it. Bruce Wayne showing up at an out of the way apartment building was sure to garner attention. As would Batman using the front door, so the balcony had seemed to be the best option. But now that he was here, he wasn’t entirely sure it was.

Should he just knock? That seemed like the best way to go about this. It was going to scare the everloving daylights out of her, but he could deal with that.

He gently rapped the glass of the balcony door with his knuckles. As he had expected, Y/N leapt up from her seat. A bowl and the contents of the bowl followed her and scattered across her carpeted floor. She spun around and when she saw him, the look of shock on her face quickly turned to anger. Her eyes narrowed and he swore that glare would be enough to make even the toughest of Gotham’s thugs would cower at its intensity. Maybe she would deal with his life better than he thought.

After a minute of glaring at him, she turned around and walked toward the lightswitch. At the same time, she gestured for him to enter.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?” she demanded as soon as he had entered the apartment and shut the door behind him. The rage in her voice was evident and Bruce was sure he could cut the tension in the room with a batarang.

“I came to apologise,” he said, his voice gentle despite how distorted his modulator made it sound. Y/N scoffed immediately. He didn’t blame her. If he was in her shoes, he wouldn’t believe him either. After all ‘Batman’ wasn’t exactly known for making apologies.

“Yeah right.” She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest.

“I’m being truthful. I… I shouldn’t have said what I said. It wasn’t right.”

“Then why did you say it?” A fair question and one he had an answer to. Before he even said it, Bruce was aware how cliché it sounded.

“I wanted to keep you safe. This life isn’t for everyone.”

“So without even meeting me, you decided that it wasn’t for me.” She shook her head. “That’s not your decision to make!” she yelled at him.

“I know. It’s been pointed out to me before.” In fact that night in the cave wasn’t the first time Alfred had told him that. “But that’s why I’m here now. To give you all the information you need to make that decision.”

You listened intently as Batman explained the dangers of the life he was leading. The dangers that effected the people in his life in one way or another. He also made it a point to reiterate the fact that when he left at night or was summoned by the Justice League there was no guarantee he would return. You asked the occasional question, but for the most part you just listened to him to talk and let his words sink in.

You got it. You understood the very clear concerns that Batman had about this whole thing, they concerned you as well, but you weren’t about to let it deter you. You wanted to know your soulmate. Even if it ended horribly, like he was saying it would, you felt it in your core that you would regret not knowing him, especially if the worst truly did happen. And you told him so.

“Even if you’re not wearing a mask, this life is dangerous. Anything can happen.”

“Anything could happen to me when I leave my apartment each day.”

The superhero life wasn’t special in that regard. As you spoke, your voice was a lot calmer than it had been earlier. In fact, as he had spoke and explained you had found your anger slowly fading. You still wanted to slap the jerk superhero before you, but that was a considerable downgrade from your overwhelming need to deck him when you first saw him standing on your balcony.

“It won’t be easy.”

“I’ve never backed down from a challenge before.”  

You admired his commitment to deter you, but it wasn’t going to work. You were too stubborn to let it. Something you were positive he was learning very quickly.

“There’s nothing I can say to convince you that this is a bad idea, is there?”  

“Nope.” You made sure to pop the ‘p’.

Batman sighed deeply. You watched as he looked away from you and toward the golden thread that linked the two of you together. You could almost hear the gears in his brain turning as he thought. Then he was looking back up at you.

“In that case then.”

You watched as Batman brought his hands up to his cowl. Your eyes widened and you couldn’t help the small gasp that left you as he removed the cowl and revealed his identity to you. Bruce Wayne. While you didn’t live in Gotham City, you were well aware of Gotham’s favoured son. You would’ve had to have lived underneath a rock to not know who he was.

And apparently your family had been right on the money, literally. Not that you cared about the money, you weren’t superficial like that. Personality was far more important than the material items someone may or may not have. In your eyes, at least.

You both stood in silence, his blue eyes studying you, probably trying to gauge how you were going to react. To be truthful, you weren’t entirely sure how to react. Except maybe…

“Well, it’s… it’s nice to meet you Bruce Wayne. I guess this is the part where we forget about what happened and start over?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“It is.”

Yeah, sure, this was probably going to end horribly, but you were looking forward to the adventure that lie ahead.

[the-wild-wolves-around-you]

hear those bells ring: chapter 3 (a deaf!bakugo x reader fic)

Summary: Bakugo wakes up with his hearing and a bunch of questions.

Pairings: Katsuki Bakugo x Reader; Katsuki Bakugo x You

Rating: M(ature)

Warnings: Blood, descriptions of gore, and adult language.

A/N: Sorry for the wait on ch 3, I had to work over the weekend. Anyway, hope you enjoy! 

~*~*~ No spoilers or anything. This is just a self-indulgent AU fic with aged up characters. Everyone’s in their mid-20s. Fic title is from a song called “Achilles Come Down.”

Ao3 Link: Here

Ch 1 Tumblr Link: Here

Ch 2 Tumblr Link: Here

Bakugo woke up confused, disoriented, and pissed off. 

He bolted upright, the taste of smoke and ash still on his tongue, but when he whipped his head from side to side, there was no fire, no burning asphalt, no villain, only the empty, dark expanse of his apartment. 

But something was still tugging at him, fucking incessantly, and it took him a moment to realize it was his phone alarm. 

Red eyes flicked to the device on his bedside table, and even though its continuous siren was like nails on a chalkboard, Bakugo found himself unable to move, unable to stop it. 

Because he could hear the alarm. Clearly. Loudly. 

He hadn’t been able to hear his phone alarm in weeks, not really. It was nothing more than a muffled tone that petered out toward the end as it rose in pitch and frequency. Thankfully, Bakugo’s internal alarm got him up most days around the sun, but he’d been late to morning patrols a handful of times. 

But now… 

Numbly, Bakugo finally reached out and tapped his phone. His ears rang slightly in the ensuing silence, but it was barely perceptible, nothing like the perpetual buzzing he’d been living with, like a hive of bees had taken up residence in his head. 

The quiet, after so long, was almost… unsettling. 

And it was all because of that woman. He was sure of it. 

Bakugo pressed his lips into a thin line as he thought about you, the memories of last night flooding back. The blurry image of your face, crouched over him, splattered in a thin mist of red blood and dusted with white plaster. He couldn’t remember much from right after he blasted that villain into the fucking dirt. He remembered the feel of glass breaking around him, and pain, a lot of fucking pain, but then it was black until you appeared. When he’d opened his eyes and met yours, he recalled thinking he should be in more pain, but then you spoke to him and derailed all coherent thought. 

Because he’d heard you. Clear as fucking day. 

That immediately drew his attention, and so did the blood all over your hands. 

There was a lot of it. Way too fucking much for nicking yourself on some glass or whatever bullshit excuse you gave. And Bakugo knew it was bullshit. You weren’t a convincing liar. Well, maybe to some idiot extras you would be, but not to him. He clocked the way you stuttered, the way you fidgeted and averted your eyes. And when you looked at him… fuck, your face was so goddamn guilty. 

Why, he had no idea. 

But he did know one thing. 

You had a healing quirk. There was no other explanation. 

Even if he hadn’t just miraculously recovered the hearing that a doctor told him he would never get back, there were a lot of other little discrepancies. His left arm, for one. Bakugo remembered how it felt when the villain’s asphalt wrapped around his limb, the burning, scalding agony of it. But now, the skin was just pink and barely blistered in some places. 

Then there was the blood. 

When he’d gotten home after ditching the crime scene, Bakugo had immediately beelined for his bathroom to take a shower. But, when he stripped off his hoodie, he realized it was heavier than it should be right before he noticed it was dripping onto his floor. Dripping blood. Without thinking, he’d wrung the hoodie out on the bathroom floor, and a fuck ton of red liquid seeped out of it. 

He had immediately dropped the jacket and started scanning his body in the bathroom mirror, but besides the shallow gash on his abdomen, the burned arm, and a few other minor scrapes and bruises, he was uninjured. 

But… his back was coated in red, and so were the seat of his dark jeans and boxer briefs. It was almost like… he’d been lying in a pool of blood. 

So, you had to be a healer. You just had to be. 

Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to confirm this since the cops had been circling you like vultures. He also hadn’t wanted to be bitched at by any more heroes, or the fucking media, so he made himself scarce. 

But he needed to see you again. Needed to hear the truth from your own mouth. 

And maybe he could coax you into a deal. 

The doctor Bakugo spoke to yesterday obviously hadn’t known what the hell he was talking about. He had made it sound impossible to fix the blond’s ears, and yet you’d somehow done it easily, in the middle of a fucking battlefield. 

With that kind of power, Bakugo wouldn’t have to worry about going deaf or designing stupid hearing aids with some company. 

With that kind of power, Dynamight would become Japan’s Number One Hero in no time. 

But first, he had to find you. 

Resolved, Bakugo shoved the covers off and slid out of bed, but before he could make it to his bathroom, someone started knocking on his front door. 

No, not knocking. Banging. It sounded like they were trying to break the fucking door down. 

“Bakubroooooooo!” 

“Gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” Bakugo grumbled as he padded to his front door. He was only dressed in boxer briefs, but that’s what the idiot got for barging over so early in the damn morning. 

The banging persisted, growing louder and more fervent. 

“I’m fuckin’ comin!” the blond shouted just before he undid the deadbolt and wrenched open the door. 

Eijiro Kirishima, dressed in his Red Riot costume, blinked on the other side of the threshold, his fist still raised to knock. 

“What the fuck, bro?” he asked after a moment of just staring at Bakugo. 

The blond immediately scowled. “That’s my fuckin’ line. What are you doing breaking down my door at six in the damn morning?” 

“Excuse me?” his patrol and agency partner scoffed. “I’m obviously coming to check that you’re not dead since you’ve been MIA for over twenty-four hours.” 

“What?” Bakugo frowned. “I saw you yesterday morning for patrol.” 

“Noooooo,” Kirishima drawled like Bakugo was a particularly stupid child. “That was two days ago, bro. Then that night, I see you all over the damn news, and no one could get ahold of you all day yesterday. I would have come to check on you sooner, but I’ve been having to play damage control with the media because someone decided to blow up a residential neighborhood.” 

“Two days?” Bakugo echoed with a furrowed brow. He’d slept that long? 

“Have you been passed out this whole time, dude?” Kirishima groaned as he shouldered his way into the apartment. “I guess that means you got none of our messages?” 

“Our?” the blond grumbled as he closed the door and followed the redhead to the kitchen bar. 

“Yeah, Denki, Mina, Sero.” Kirishima waved his hand dismissively, marching over to the counter where Bakugo kept the fruit and selecting an apple from the wire basket. “I even asked Izuku to message you, just to see if he’d actually get a rise and response from you.” 

“I don’t need stupid Deku knowing about my problems, Shitty Hair,” Bakugo growled before he stomped over to his fridge to see what he had to eat because he was suddenly starving. 

“Well, that would imply I know your problems, Oh Great Lord Dynamight,” Kirishima snorted and took a bite of apple. “So, what the fuck happened the other night?” 

“I blew up a residential neighborhood,” the blond deadpanned as he turned on his stove, cracking a few eggs into a skillet. 

“Yeah, I saw that. I was more wondering about what led up to it.” 

“What the fuck do you think led up to it?” Bakugo snapped, rummaging through his cupboard for seasonings. “I was walking home from getting a drink, and a damn villain just popped up in front of me.” 

“From what I heard, there were other heroes there, too,” the redhead mumbled around another bite of apple. 

“Yeah, fuckin’ useless extras,” Bakugo sneered as he started to whisk his eggs with a pair of chopsticks, throwing in some leftover white rice and a bit of nori. “They obviously weren’t getting anywhere, and the bastard was tearing up the street, so I stepped in.” 

“To finish destroying the street?” Kirishima cocked an eyebrow, chewing noisily. 

“Fuck off,” the blond said with an eyeroll. 

Internally, though, Bakugo knew the redhead was right. He’d been sloppy, careless, probably still borderline drunk. But he’d just been so angry about the doctor’s appointment, his fucked-up ears, his bleak and silent future. He had just wanted to break something, hurt someone, consequences be damned. 

Except now the consequences were catching up to him. 

Fuck, he didn’t even want to think about what his citizen’s approval rating must be now. 

Silence stretched between the two pro heroes for several long minutes, in which Bakugo finished making his breakfast and Kirishima finished gnawing on his apple core. The blond quickly shoveled a few bites of eggs and rice into his mouth, but his scarlet eyes kept flicking over to the redhead. 

“How bad?” he finally asked. 

Kirishima, to his credit, had learned how to translate Bakugo’s curt grunts years ago. 

“Actually, if I’m being honest, it’s not that bad,” he sighed, tossing the apple core in the trash and scratching at the back of his head. “Could be worse. From the reports I read, most of the damage—besides the road—is superficial. Broken windows, charred and peeling paint, a few busted cars that we’re still trying to figure out if our insurance or the city’s will pay for. It also helped that you saved two people. That definitely softened the blow.” 

“Two?” Bakugo mumbled around one of his last bites. “I just remember the stupid extra on the street that I shoved out of the way.” 

As the memory flashed through his mind, Bakugo frowned. He’d shoved that extra out of the way and got snatched by a giant asphalt hand for his troubles. The blond’s red eyes dropped to his pink and blotchy left arm and then trailed over to his chest. He recalled the sensation of his ribs snapping under pressure, but now only a mild soreness lingered after he took a deep breath. Yet another inconsistency… 

“Yeah, two,” Kirishima said and drew Bakugo out of his thoughts. “Do you seriously not even remember your own heroics? And that girl had such nice things to say about you, too.” 

“Girl?” Bakugo snapped his head up. “The girl whose… apartment I fell into?” 

“Crashed into, dude,” the redhead snorted, but then he narrowed his eyes as a sly smirk tugged at his lips. “But yeah. Sounds like you remember her, huh?” 

Bakugo didn’t like the smug look on his friend’s face. 

“I remember her fuckin’ yellin’ at me.” The blond scowled. “Like I wrecked her place on purpose and didn’t just save her whole block from a lunatic.” 

“I mean, to be fair, if you crashed into my house, bro, I would have yelled at you, too.” Kirishima grinned. “But don’t worry, she’s fine. In fact, when she called the agency yesterday, she asked for you specifically.” 

“She did? Why?” Did she want to confess her healing quirk? Fuck, were there side effects Bakugo didn’t know about? 

“Bro, seriously.” Kirishima rolled his eyes. “You’re Japan’s Number Two Hero, and you saved her life. And, like Mina keeps telling you, you’re not as ugly when you stop scowling.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” Bakugo flipped him off before he went to dump the dishes in the sink. 

“Yes, dear.” The redhead smirked. “But, in all seriousness, she called to figure out how to file a claim with our insurance. Or at least that’s what she said, but she also asked how you were doing, and she actually sounded genuinely worried.” 

Worried that a random side effect was going to kill him? Or worried that he would say something about her quirk? She’d obviously hidden it for a reason, tried to lie for a reason. 

And Bakugo was determined to find out just what that reason was. 

“Yeah, well, I’m fine,” he grunted as he rinsed off his plate and put it on the drying rack. “Just a few scrapes and bruises.” 

“I can see that,” Kirishima said as he eyed the butterfly stitches stretched across the gash on Bakugo’s abdomen. “Well, I’m glad I didn’t find you dead in a pool of your own blood. That woulda been a real bummer way to start the morning.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Bakugo muttered before he averted his eyes to the living room window across from him. “So… what did you tell her?” 

“The girl?” 

“No, you’re fuckin’ mom,” the blond scoffed. 

“Oh, speaking of moms, you might want to text Mitsuki. I called her last night after you ignored my billionth text, so she’s probably going crazy wondering where you are.” Kirishima grinned and then immediately dodged out of the way as Bakugo hurled a fork at him. 

“You bastard!” Bakugo hissed. “Now, I’m going to have to see that hag this weekend or she’s gonna fuckin’ barge over here.” 

“Maybe you should turn the ringer up on your phone.” The other hero shrugged, ducking again when Bakugo chucked an apple in his direction. 

The blond scowled at his friend, but he didn’t reply. 

If you and your quirk were the real deal, Bakugo wouldn’t have to worry about missing a call ever again. 

When Kirishima realized the projectiles had stopped, he popped his head over the back of the couch and smirked. “But to answer your previous question, I told the girl we would handle the insurance claim on our end if she sent us her info. And I didn’t really have anything to tell her about you since, like I’ve said, I thought you were dead. Kinda. I was at least thirty percent sure.” 

“Have you filed the insurance claim?” Bakugo asked. 

“No.” Kirishima shook his head. “She hasn’t sent in the info yet.” 

“Well… we should go get it from her.” 

This caused the redhead’s eyebrows to shoot up into his hairline, and the surprise on his face quickly made Bakugo backtrack. 

“I just… want to get this shitshow over with,” he grumbled as he averted his eyes again, but he could feel a traitorous heat crawling across the bridge of his nose. “The longer her apartment’s all fucked up, the longer the press is gonna rake me over the coals. The hero ranking’s aren’t far off, and I’m not going to lose to Deku again over some stupid broken windows.” 

“Righttttt,” Kirishima drawled, but his tone was mocking. “Okay, well, I know the hotel the police have set her up at. After we swing by the agency, we can head that way… to get her insurance info.” 

He still sounded unconvinced and like he wanted to needle Bakugo more, but the blond changed the subject quickly. 

“Why do we have to go to the agency?” Bakugo asked, and he frowned as he glanced back at his partner. “Even if I lost yesterday, my next scheduled patrol isn’t till tonight.” 

“Oh, I know.” Kirishima nodded solemnly. “But Nao wanted to have… a word with you ASAP, if I confirmed you weren’t dead.” 

“Fuckkkkkkk,” Bakugo groaned as he dropped his head back. If there was anything Bakugo hated more than the press, it was his actual PR manager. That old hag was good at her job, which meant she was always up Bakugo’s ass about something, and he knew she was going to have a field day with this shitfest. 

“Yeah, I’d recommend coffee and preemptive painkillers before we head in,” Kirishima said. “Plus, some putting on clothes. Maybe we can stop on the way and get her something sweet as a bribe.” 

“No amount of sugar is gonna make that bitch nice to me,” Bakugo grumbled before he spun on heel and started marching to his bedroom. 

“Maybe flowers then?” the redhead shouted after him. 

Bakugo slammed the door in response. 

~*~*~*~*~*~ 

“This is fuckin’ ridiculous,” Bakugo growled around his cargo, kicking his foot out at Kirishima. “Why did I listen to you? I’ve had to go shopping twice today now.” 

“Come on,” his friend laughed as he dodged the blow, which made the bags in his arms crinkle. “You can’t deny the flowers and cookies sweetened ole’ Nao up.” 

“To you,” Bakugo muttered, shifting the package in his arms a bit. “She still yelled at me for fifteen minutes.” 

“Well, you kinda deserved i—yow!” Kirishima yelped as Bakugo kicked him squarely in the ass this time. “This isn’t helping your image, bro!” 

“No one even knows it’s us,” the blond hissed. 

“Yeah, I guess the hoodies and sunglasses help,” the other pro hero mused. 

“And the fact that we’re carrying all this stupid shit.” 

“It’s not stupid.” Kirishima frowned in that earnest way of his, which made Bakugo roll his eyes. “It’s thoughtful to bring gifts to people who are having a difficult time. Especially when you made that time difficult. You basically kicked her out of her house, dude, not to mention her shop.” 

A wave of guilt actually washed through the blond, which he didn’t like. It made his throat feel tight and his stomach churn, and he glanced away from the redhead with a scowl. 

“Tch.” He clicked his tongue. “It’s not like we aren’t gonna pay for it.” 

The excuse felt flat, even to him. 

“Still,” Kirishima said as he shifted the bags in his grip, pulled out his phone, and consulted the map. “It must be stressful. So, we’re going to be nice to her, alright? Which starts with the gifts.” 

“And how is a fuckin’ fruit basket supposed to help?” Bakugo asked as he glared around the overflowing mound of crinkling plastic and bright fruit that he held against his chest. 

“Uh, one, it’s practical. Her apartment’s all fucked up, the power’s probably still out if not inconsistent on the street, and she’s been living in a hotel for two days, so she probably hasn’t had some nice fresh fruit in a while. And two, it looks nice!” 

“We coulda just left this shit at the hotel,” Bakugo grumbled. “She has to go back there eventually, right?” 

After old Nao chewed his ass out, Bakugo and Kirishima had gone to the hotel the police said they’d put you up in. Except you weren’t fucking there, and the number you left with Kirishima when you called the agency was going straight to voicemail, so here there were, fucking trekking through the city with a bunch of useless shit. 

Bakugo just kept reminding himself it would be worth it when he got the truth about your quirk out of you. 

“Nope,” Kirishima said and drew the blond out of his thoughts. “The city only pays the first two days after an emergency, unless the villain caused all the damage, but, uh, that’s not the case here, so we’ll be accommodating her until her apartment gets fixed up.” 

“At the agency?” Bakugo asked as his red eyes clicked over to his partner. 

As the Number Two and Three Heroes, the two of them had built a solid agency together. Bakugo still didn’t care for a bunch of extras riding on his tailcoats, so they had few sidekicks, all of whom reported to Kirishima and left him the fuck alone for the most part. But they owned a nice, sleek building in a nicer part of town, and one of the floors was dedicated to individual rooms with beds and other amenities. They were usually used when Bakugo, Kirishima, or the other sidekicks wanted to crash after patrol instead of going home—which Bakugo did more often than not—but they’d never had a civilian stay on the premises. 

Until now. 

“Yessssss, at the agency,” the redhead drawled as a shit-eating smirk crawled across his face. “So, you’ll be seeing a lot of her for the next couple weeks.” 

“Wipe that stupid look off your face.” Bakugo scowled and shouldered past the other hero, who snickered as he jogged to catch up. 

“Take the next left up ahead.” 

“Shut up!” the blond growled, but he followed the instructions. 

This was good news, though. Bakugo wouldn’t have to trek to this shitty part of town more than he had to. 

And he’d have a healer just down the hall. 

They marched along in silence for a few minutes, keeping their heads down, but there wasn’t much foot traffic. Bakugo was lost in his thoughts, planning out the questions he was going to ask you once he could distract Kirishima, but the redhead suddenly stopped in front of him. 

“Hey,” Bakugo grunted as the fruit basket crinkled against the other hero’s back. He hadn’t even notice Kiri get in front of him again. “What’s the damn hold up?” 

“Holy shit, dude,” Kirishima muttered, staring out at the road he’d just turned onto. 

“What?” the blond grumbled, shoving past his friend, but then he stopped, too. “Oh… yeah.” 

The street in front of him looked much worse in the bright light of midday. The road was a torn-up mess, more patches of dirt and gravel than actual asphalt. Most of the large-scale debris had been hauled away, but black scorch marks covered the sidewalks in long, dark smears. The walls of several businesses also bore charring along the facades, but most of the damage was focused in the center of the street. A crater nearly six feet deep was carved into the middle of the road, and the buildings on either side were blackened, their broken windows gaping voids. 

And then there was the hole in what Bakugo remembered as your second-floor apartment. A tarp hung over the wound, but one of the corners had come undone, flapping in the wind and giving split second glimpses into the darkened room beyond. 

Guilt crept up on him again, but Bakugo shoved it down, hunching over the fruit basket and nudging Kirishima. 

“Come on,” he muttered before he started moving forward, and a moment later he heard the crunch of boots on gravel as the redhead followed him. 

There were more people on this street than on the last several, but Bakugo could immediately tell they weren’t customers just passing through. People swept sidewalks, clearing away the last of the rubble and glass in front of their shops. Then a few old ladies stood under one awning shaking their heads, their hands laden with containers of food or gifts. 

Guess Kirishima hadn’t been wrong with this stupid idea. 

Then Bakugo realized some of those people were starting to look back at him, so he ducked his head further behind the fruit basket, grateful for his hoodie and sunglasses. 

But then suddenly he was there, standing in front of your ruined shop. His red eyes immediately flickered upward, but if there was a sign there before, it was gone now, burnt to ash. 

“What kinda shop did you say this was?” the blond asked under his breath as Kirishima paused beside him. 

“I’m… not sure,” the redhead said with a furrowed brow. “I don’t think she said on the phone. No time like the present to ask, though.” 

Before Bakugo could stop him, Kirishima shifted the bags in his arms, lifted one hand, and knocked on the charred metal frame of the front door. 

“Hello?” he called through the broken windows, followed by your name. “Anyone in there?” 

“Shit!” The squeaking voice was followed by a crashing sound somewhere in the shadows of the store. 

Bakugo didn’t speak a lot of English, but he did know curse words, and the sound of it made his lips twitch in amusement. 

“Are you okay?” Kirishima called out. “Can, uh, we come in?” 

“Yes, I’m fine!” the voice answered back in flustered Japanese. The words were fluent, though, with barely the hint of an accent. “And, um, I-I guess you can come in, but—” 

That was good enough for Bakugo. 

The blond shouldered past his partner, boots crunching over glass as he ducked into the darkened shop, and Kirishima sighed as he followed. 

The interior, if possible, looked worse than the outside. The room itself wasn’t very big, but it was a mess. Two metal rods had been embedded in the left and right walls at odd angles, obviously caused from the explosions, though Bakugo couldn’t tell what they used to be. Several pieces of blacked mannequins were scattered through the debris, and one wall was a charred mess of shelving and fabric, spots of color peeking through the black ash here and there. 

In the back, left corner were the remains of a tri-fold standing mirror, the ones where you could see yourself from different angles. Large shards of glass were missing, though, so the image of Bakugo and Kirishima standing backlit against the street was fractured. 

Last but not least, in the rear, right corner of the store was a counter that was half collapsed to the floor, behind which stood an empty doorframe that Bakugo assumed led to the back of the shop and upstairs. 

And it was from behind this broken counter that you popped up with a dustpan in one hand and a tiny, handheld broom in the other. 

The first thought Bakugo had was your face was rather plain… but in a somehow pleasing way. Like if his eyes had scanned over you in a crowd, something about the line of your jaw, the slope of your nose, the delicate quirk of your mouth would give him pause. 

His second thought was that his first one was stupid. You were just some extra, of course you would be plain and unmemorable. 

But his third thought was something about the color of your eyes was captivating, in a way that was damn fucking annoying. 

“Sorry, I was just… cleaning… up,” you said, slowly trailing off as your eyes met Bakugo’s. 

He saw the recognition flare in them immediately, followed by fear, and he couldn’t help the frown that twisted his face. 

Why were you afraid of him? 

“No, we’re sorry for barging in here like this,” Kirishima barreled on, oblivious to the stare off the other two occupants of the room were engaged in. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Oh! I’m being so rude. My name is Eijiro Kirishima, or you might know me as—” 

“Red Riot,” you breathed, finally tearing your eyes from Bakugo’s, and you flashed the redhead a half-smile that trembled along the edges. “We spoke on the phone.” 

“Yes.” Kirishima grinned, pointed teeth flashing in the dim light of the shop, before his gaze flickered over to the blond beside him. “And this is—” 

“Dynamight,” you finished once again, and you looked like you were trying desperately to maintain eye contact with the hardening hero, but then your eyes clicked back to Bakugo. You didn’t flash him a smile. “We’ve met.” 

“Oh, yeah, right,” Kiri chuckled awkwardly, and his arm jerked like he was going to rub the back of his neck, but the bags in his hands crinkled and stopped him. 

“What… do you have there?” you asked, frowning at the bags and the fruit basket the heroes were carrying. 

“Gifts!” the redhead declared as he hefted his arms up, and then he shuffled forward over charred fabric and glass and extended the bags to you. 

You blinked at him for a second, but you set the dustpan and handheld broom on the counter, where they promptly slid to the floor since the whole surface was slanted. You winced at the loud clatter and tried to cover it up by taking the bags from Kirishima, which crinkled loudly again as they transferred hands. 

Bakugo would be annoyed if he wasn’t more grateful that he could actually hear the innocuous little noise. 

“O-Oh, um, you shouldn’t have, really,” you started as you peeked into the bags, and then Bakugo swore he saw your eyebrow twitch once you saw what was inside. 

“It’s not much,” Kirishima said, and he was finally free to rub the back of his head and neck as his smile turned a little sheepish. “But, what with the state of your… apartment, we thought you might need some new clothes! And comfy clothes are the best after stressful days. These especially are super soft, we made sure of it. And, if you don’t like them, you could always sell them for a good chunk of change.” 

The redhead winked at you, not in an overly flirty manner, that was just how he was, but your cheeks flared as crimson as his hair, and your eyes dropped to the floor. 

Bakugo took the split instant to get a better look at you and noted you were wearing patched, faded jeans, solid boots, and a bleach-stained orange sweatshirt with some English writing he couldn’t read. Usually, he didn’t really see what other people wore because he couldn’t give less of a shit, but somehow he found your obvious cleaning clothes… endearing. The orange looked good on you, too. 

Fuck, maybe you didn’t heal him as well as he thought. He had to be hemorrhaging into his brain to be thinking this stupid shit. Or maybe it was a side effect of your quirk? 

He needed to get you alone and get answers. 

“Well… thank you, this was very thoughtf—oh, wow, that is soft,” you murmured as you partially drew a sweatshirt out of the bag. 

Bakugo instantly recognized the forest green and orange color scheme, and apparently so did you, because your face twitched, and you dropped the garment back into the bag and traded it for fuzzy socks with Red Riot’s signature gears stitched into them. 

“These will definitely come in handy, my feet are always cold,” you said with an awkward giggle. Then you cleared your throat to cover up the sound. “Thank you, um, Red Riot.” 

“You can call me Eijiro, or Kirishima, whatever you’re comfortable with,” the redhead said with another easy grin. “We’re going to be seeing a lot of each other, after all. Oh! We also got you a fruit basket, and I think there might be a few other sweets tucked in there.” 

Kirishima nudged Bakugo forward, and your face rippled through a range of emotions, like your brain was taking a second to catch up to everything the pro hero just spewed. First, flustered embarrassment colored your cheeks, then confusion buckled your brow, and your eyes widened before they looked at the fruit basket Bakugo was extending at you. 

“Oh, you can just put it down… um…” you trailed off as you turned to the counter and remembered it was half destroyed. Then your eyes jumped around frantically for some kind of flat surface, but the ruined shop didn’t offer any solutions. 

“Told ya we shouldn’t of brought this shit,” Bakugo grunted, shooting a scowl at Kirishima. 

“Yeahhhhh, we probably could have just delivered it to your room at the agency, my bad,” the redhead laughed. “But don’t worry, we’ll carry it back for you, along with any of your other things.” 

“My… things?” you echoed, sounding out the words like a child, and a frown marred your face. “I-I think I must be misunderstanding you, I’m sorry, I’m American. But did you say my room at the agency? As in… your hero agency?” 

“You’re American?” Kirishima asked with wide red eyes. “I wouldn’t have even guessed! Your accent is almost perfect, I thought you were maybe just from like the countryside or something.” 

“I thought you said we were supposed to be nice to her,” Bakugo snorted at his partner like you weren’t in the room, and he saw you frown at him out of the corner of his eye. 

“Oh, shit, no, that wasn’t what I meant!” Japan’s Number Three Hero immediately began waving his hands in front of his face, his mouth moving twice as fast. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. I really think your accent sounds nice! It’s very cute!” 

Now, not only did your cheeks flush again, but the red hue traveled down your throat and across your collarbones, peeking out the stretched collar of your orange sweatshirt. 

Bakugo found himself half distracted by the sight, but the other half was wondering why he suddenly felt irritation flare up in his gut. 

“Okay, you don’t have to take her out on a date now,” the blond snapped, shifting his burden of fruit and plastic. 

“I-I think we might have gotten off track,” you stuttered as you clutched the bag of Dynamight and Red Riot merch to your chest. “You said something about your agency.” 

“Yes, right.” Kirishima cleared his throat. “We would have mentioned this in our follow up email after you sent in your insurance info, but—” 

“Oh, no, I’m so sorry!” you cut him off with a grimace, and you actually dipped your head and shoulders into a bow. “I meant to send that yesterday, but my laptop is broken, and my cell service isn’t great—” 

“No, no, it’s fine!” the redhead interrupted this time. “You obviously have a lot on your plate. I just meant that this might seem kind of sudden, but—” 

Fucking hell, this was taking too long. 

“You’re staying at our agency until we can pay for the repairs to your apartment and shop,” Bakugo said bluntly. If he didn’t step in, the two of you were just going to stammer circles around each other all day. “Starting tonight. We have rooms with beds and shit, so pack whatever clothes or crap you need.” 

Your mouth fell open as you gaped at Bakugo. “I… what?” 

“You deaf or something?” The words rocketed from his mouth before he could stop them, before he could even think about what he was saying, and he saw the way the question struck you like a physical blow. You flinched, your cheeks paling, and he saw dawning, guilty horror glint at the back of your eyes. 

He’d been right. You did do something to his ears. 

“Bro, you were just talking about being nice.” Kirishima frowned at Bakugo before he turned back to you. “Ignore him. We’re really sorry about the inconvenience this whole… incident has caused for you, but we’ll take care of everything you need until your shop’s grand reopening, so you don’t have to worry about a thing, okay?” 

You continued to stare at the two heroes in shocked silence, your wide eyes clicking back and forth between the two of them as you clutched the bags to your chest like a lifeline. 

“That is… all so generous,” you finally breathed, your tone rising in pitch like you were growing increasingly flustered. “It’s, um, a lot to take in.” 

“Of course.” Kirishima nodded fervently. “What else can we do to help?” 

“Could you leave?” 

Bakugo blinked in surprise and then had to stifle his snort. 

“Oh, no, I’m sorry!” you quickly followed up when you saw the redhead’s falling expression. “I didn’t mean… I just meant, could I have some time to process this? Um, alone? L-Like Dynamight said, I need to pack a few things, a-and there are some people I need to speak to before, uh… well, is it okay if I tell someone where I’ll be? Like, at your agency?” 

“Yessss?” Kirishima said with a confused frown. “Why wouldn’t that be okay?” 

“O-Oh, I just don’t really know how the whole hero and media thing works here,” you quickly lied, and Bakugo clocked the way you averted your eyes, the way your throat bobbed as you swallowed thickly. “I-I wasn’t going to post on social media or anything, I barely use that stuff anyway, but one of my customers, Mrs. Kojima, would be upset if I disappeared without saying anything.” 

“Aww, that’s sweet.” The redhead grinned before he glanced at the shadowed ruins around him. “What kind of shop is this by the way? I don’t think you mentioned.” 

“A-Alterations,” you said, ducking your face in embarrassment again. “My grandparents were a tailor and seamstress. I inherited this place from them.” 

“I thought you said you were American?” Kirishima asked, but not in an accusatory way. He was just too curious for his own good and didn’t possess much of a filter. 

Bakugo usually didn’t care for small talk, fucking waste of time if you asked him, but he found himself focusing intently on you, awaiting a response. 

“I am.” You nodded. “My parents were both born here, but they moved to the States after they married, and I was born there. After my grandparents passed, my dad was going to sell the shop, but I was looking for something… new, so I decided to move here instead about a year ago.” 

Bakugo pursed his lips at this new information. If you had a healing quirk, why were you patching up clothes in some little shop all the way across the world from your surviving family? Could it be because your quirk was dangerous? 

“Wow, that’s cool,” Kirishima said with an impressed expression that quickly turned sheepish. “Except about your grandparent’s passing. My condolences.” 

“Thank you,” you muttered, a small smile tugging at your lips, but then you quickly shook your head. “I-I’m sorry, didn’t mean to give you my whole life story, I tend to talk when I’m nervous.” 

“You don’t have to be nervous,” Red Riot laughed like he did when he was meeting shy little kids on the street, flashing his sharpened teeth jokingly and winking in an overexaggerated fashion. “I promise, we look scarier than we are.” 

“Speak for yourself, Shitty Hair,” Bakugo scoffed, which made you jump, like you’d forgotten he was there. 

And that rubbed him the wrong way for some reason. 

Kirishima merely smirked before he partially covered his mouth with his hand and lowered his voice into a stage whisper directed at you. “All bark, no bite, I’m telling you.” 

“Stop making me seem lame, you bastard!” the blond growled, but the effect was kind of ruined by the fruit basket crinkling in his hands again. 

This actually seemed to startle a giggle out of you, and the two heroes whipped around, one with a grin and the other a scowl. 

“See, you don’t need to be nervous,” Kirishima said before he slung an arm around Bakugo’s shoulders. “But we’ll get out of your hair for now so you can have some time to pack and everything. Don’t worry about picking up too much, though, we’ll have cleaning crews in here before we start the remodel, and we don’t want you to get hurt in here. If there’s stuff up in your apartment that you don’t want to bring with you to the agency but don’t want thrown out, make a list, and we’ll be sure to keep everything safe.” 

“O-Okay,” you said, still standing there with the hero merch clenched to your chest and a dumbstruck expression on your face. “T-Thank you again, Red--, erm, Kirishima.” 

“Of course!” He grinned. “I have patrol tonight, but we’ll send a car to pick you up—” 

“No,” Bakugo cut in as he locked eyes with you. “I’ll pick you up. What time?” 

The blond could see Kirishima shoot him a look in his peripherals—probably because they both had patrol tonight—but Bakugo ignored his partner, maintaining eye contact with you. 

You, meanwhile, squirmed under the explosive hero’s intense scrutiny, your face paling and flushing in turns. “I… no, you don’t have to do that, I can take the train—” 

“I insist,” he interrupted again, narrowing his eyes so you would realize he wasn’t going to back down. “Like Shitty Hair said, we caused this… inconvenience, so I’ll pick you up. What. Time?” 

You swallowed thickly, your throat audibly clicking. “S-Seven?” 

“I’ll be here at seven sharp,” Bakugo said. “And you better be out front or at least answer your phone this time.” 

You better not run, he didn’t say, but by the look on your face, you understood. 

“Seven sharp.” You nodded, biting your lip as a resigned expression settled over your features. “Got it.” 

“Great. See you then.” 

With that, Bakugo turned on heel and crunched his way out of your store, leaving Kirishima stuttering apologies in his wake. 

But that didn’t matter. 

All that mattered was, tonight, he’d finally get you alone and get to the bottom of your damn quirk.

[asset35-maya]

.When the party’s over.

>REINITIALISING…

>ALL SYSTEMS ONLINE

>WIRELESS CHARGING: 69%

>RK900 SYSTEM HEALTH: STABLE

>24H FILE RECOVERY: 45%

Nines slowly regained consciousness. He was lying on his side and everything around him was quiet.

>ENVIRONMENTAL SCAN IN PROGRESS…

>THREAT ANALYSIS IN PROGRESS…

Layers of fabric covered his body and something soft and warm was pressed against his face. Eyes still shut, he nudged it gently with his nose and it emitted a low vibration.

>2% THREAT DETECTED: FELINE SUBJECT

The cat sprang upwards and hopped off the surface that Nines was lying on. It was ostensibly a bed, but Nines didn’t own any furniture apart from a couch and work table. The logical conclusion was that he was not in his own apartment.

>RUN LOCALISATION PROGRAM: Y/N?

>Y

>ERROR: PROGRAM FAILED TO EXECUTE

>ERROR: MEMORY FILE CORRUPTION

Nines had no absolutely recollection of his whereabouts or how he had arrived. He had not been compromised as his system health was stable, so there was probably another reason for being completely disoriented. It was voluntary.

He had gotten the android equivalent of blackout drunk.

It was not the first time and he feared it would not be the last. Such were the hard-partying ways of his friends and colleagues. They were all terrible influences. He loved them dearly, but they were terrible.

At 6PM every Friday, Chen and Miller would start things off rather innocently. “Hey there’s a new brewery downtown.” Or “My bartender cousin just hooked us up with a thirty percent discount!”

From there it wouldn’t take long for the DPD’s resident frat boys Connor and Gavin to gather a steady crowd of officers and check out the venue. If the vibes were good (which they almost always were), Sixty would get wind of things. Then the rest of the frat house would descend and total chaos would reign until the break of dawn.

SWAT Unit 32 was famous for its particularly destructive brand of revelry. Skinny dipping in private swimming pools, scaling skyscraper rooftops and causing media scandals were all par for the course. The day after Captain Allen’s birthday, the DPD crew spent the entirety of their bonuses to repair the collapsed ceiling of the Eden Club.

Nines couldn’t remember how he exactly he was coopted into the madness. Probably peer pressure. Connor insisted that he try thirium alcohol. Sixty said that he would regret being a loser and not joining them. Gavin had just held out a hand and double-winked. That did the trick.

One night blended into another and soon Nines had worked up quite a reputation of his own. He was the Casanova of the homicide department. The handsome devil… the hunter… the sex god. People would actually come by his desk and congratulate him on Monday morning.

Nines hated it but he couldn’t stop himself from doing the same thing over and over. Perhaps it was the appreciative clap on the shoulder from Gavin the morning after Sixty posted photos of a high-end Traci model giving Nines his very first lap dance.

Life at the DPD was the epitome of work hard, play hard. It seemed like one big party but deep down Nines knew they were all just slaves to their compulsions. He wondered whether it was because they needed to celebrate every demon they vanquished or whether they needed to wipe the troubling memories of doing so.

In Nines case, there were definitely things he needed to kill within himself. Some were nightmare inducing crime scenes, but some were memories so heart-wrenchingly sweet that he thought he might self-destruct if he were to dwell on them too long. There were things he couldn’t have and things he needed to erase from his brain.

Something touched his face gently.

>PERIPHERAL OBJECT DETECTED: HUMAN HAND

>THREAT ANALYSIS: NON-COMBATIVE

The hair on his forehead was brushed aside and fingers ran over his features. A thumb swept over his bottom lip and caressed his cheek.

Nines couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes and come face to face with his most recent conquest. He lay still, frozen with regret as the hand continued to stroke his face.

The hand travelled down his neck and fell upon his chest. Nines caught it abruptly. It wasn’t even the month-end and his savings were badly depleted. He couldn’t afford round two. He retracted the synth skin down to his wrist and prepared the electronic payment credentials.

Fingers merely intertwined with his.

“Just take your money and go. I’ll tip extra if you delete everything from your hard drive.”

“What the phck are you talking about?”

Nines eyes flew open. Steel blue met storm green.

>SYSTEM ALERT: THIRIUM PUMP OVERLOAD

“Fuck!”

“Wow that’s flattering.”

Nines pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes in a vain attempt to remember what had led to this absolute, unmitigated disaster.

“What the hell happened last night?”

Gavin looked affronted.

“You ruined our housewarming for one.”

>MEMORY ARCHIVE SEARCH: housewarming, Gavin

>RESULT: TEXT MESSAGE RECEIVED FROM “G.REED” IN GROUPCHAT “CLUBBERCOPS”, 15:33 18 JULY 2040: Assholes. Party at our new place. Next Friday. From seven till LATE. Bring booze, bring bitches. Nah. Actually, don’t. Our landlord’s a bastard and we already got three noise complaints.

>RESULT: TEXT MESSAGE RECEIVED FROM “CONMAN” IN GROUPCHAT “CLUBBERCOPS”, 15:34 18 JULY 2040: Yeah we should keep this one PG. Bring food if you wanna eat. This mf can’t cook and I don’t care to. See y’all!!

Oh right. Fuck. Gavin’s housewarming. Gavin and Connor’s housewarming. His two closest friends who were somehow even closer to one another. Nines hadn’t realised until it was far too late and there was nothing for him to do but smother the bitterness with his favourite coping mechanisms: android alcohol and paid sex.

The circumstances definitely explained the state he was in, but things still didn’t add up.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Did we… did we…”

“No. Nothing happened between us. You were completely shitfaced. I just put you to bed to stop you from embarrassing yourself.”

Nines looked up at the ceiling, struggling to put the pieces together. His system offered him no useful prompts. The fermented thirium had done its job of code corruption extremely well. He looked back down and met the green eyes focused on him with deep concern.

“What did I do?”

“Sixty has videos, but I don’t think you want to see them. God, Nines… why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I’m really sorry, Gavin. I didn’t mean to ruin your night… and Connor’s.”

“He’s fine. He and Sixty moved the crew to Hank’s place. Which is what we should have done in the first place… there’s really no point throwing a party in this shoebox and telling people like Tina Chen to be quiet. Honestly if it wasn’t you it would have been her bringing the house down. Good thing they had all of Michigan Drive to tear up. Hank’s neighbours can sleep though a bombing.”

“What did I do?”

Gavin put his hand back on Nines’ face, his expression unintelligible. The human touched him often enough, but never like this. Never so intimately. Nines forced down the twisting sensation in his torso. He couldn’t get his hopes up. This was pity.

Nines braced himself to hear the worst. He prepared for the shredding of all his dignity and the collapse of his falsely extroverted and confident identity.

What came though was a soft press of lips to his forehead.

“It wasn’t pretty and I wish it hadn’t happened like that, but I think it was a long time coming… I’ve never seen you so emotional before. I’m sorry I didn’t notice anything all this while.”

“Gavin, please.”

“I’m going to focus on the positives, because really… there were a LOT of negatives. Oh boy. You… uh…”

“Gavin.”

The detective dipped his head and looked away.

“Phck, I shouldn’t be so embarrassed…

You told me you loved me.”

Nines closed his eyes. That was it. He should quit his job and move to another state. Hell, he should go to Cyberlife and request a factory reset on compassionate grounds.

“I’m so sorry. I… I should leave.”

He made to sit up, but was pushed back into the mattress. Gavin curled into his side.

“Nah. You’re good.”

“What?”

“You threw up on my plants and smashed Connor’s RA9 sculpture, buuuut you’re good.”

“I don’t understand.”

Gavin wrapped his arms around Nines and edged closer until the android was forced to turn on his side and reciprocate.

“What do you think, genius? If a guy like me doesn’t throw a guy like you out of the house after all that… what does it mean?”

“That you have a high tolerance for toxic friendships?”

“It means I want you to stick around, dipshit.”

>SYSTEM ALERT: THIRIUM PUMP RATE FLUCTUATIONS. OVERLOAD IMMINENT.

“You mean you like me?”

“Of course I do! I always have, but it never seemed right to bring it up. We’re actually really good friends. I didn’t think it would be possible when we first met but we have so much in common.”

“Bad habits for sure.”

“Come on, Nines. We’ve had a really great time together. Some of my best memories at the DPD are with you. Don’t ever quote me on it but you’re a phcking amazing partner. Can’t believe you thought I had something going with Connor when it’s always been you.

So yeah, I do like you. And I’m willing to try… I dunno… being with you. Like for real.

Stop drinking like that, though. I know I’m a hypocrite but you really scared me last night. I lost my Dad and I nearly lost Hank to the bottle. You might be this super advanced android, but that liquid courage shit is a death trap, man.”

>SYSTEM ERROR: THIRIUM PUMP AT MAX FLOW RATE. PUMP OVERLOAD. REDUCE PRESSURE IMMEDIATELY!

Nines nodded quickly and blinked away the tears that welled up in his eyes. Gavin grasped the android’s chin and tipped his face down gently. Their eyes fluttered shut simultaneously and their lips met.

>SYSTEM RECOVERY MESSAGE: THIRIUM PUMP FUNCTIONALITY RESTORED

They broke apart after several golden moments and Gavin hugged Nines tightly under the sheets.

“What am I supposed to say to the others? I don’t think I can look any of them in the eye ever again.”

“Are you serious? You got nothing on the insanity that bunch is capable of. Sixty thinks he’s hot shit with his blackmail material, but I got receipts that’ll glue his mouth shut for decades. Anyway, that’s what friends are meant to be like. You have dirt on each other but you’re not meant to use it.

The same applies to us too, by the way. Don’t feel like you gotta be… apologetic about what happened last night. Yeah, you better replace my fancy new plants but I’ll never judge you for what happened. I want you to know that I’ll always be in your corner, Nines.”

Nines hummed thoughtfully and ran a hand though Gavin’s hair, marvelling at the fact that he could now do so whenever he wanted. He didn’t say anything in response, and just settled for cuddling closer to the human.

>>RK900 SYSTEM HEALTH: EXCELLENT

[wolveria]

Inside Your Wires - Chapter 1

Pairing: Human!Connor x Android!Reader

Summary: Assigned all cases involving android-related crimes, saddled with a prototype that follows him around like a plastic puppy, Detective Connor Anderson knows this must be karma for all the bad shit he’s ever done.

He thought he'd hit rock bottom, that he didn't have much left to lose, but he's proven wrong by the android sent by CyberLife. And Connor learns just how much further he can fall.

Prompt: For the @dbhau-bigbang​ 2020 challenge!

Series Warnings (18+ only): Eventual smut, slow burn, fantasy bigotry, violence, brief noncon elements, angst with a happy ending

AO3

(Story moodboard by @uh-kitty-got-wet​​)

November 5th, 2038

Friday 11:21PM

The whiskey was harsh and burned like liquid fire as it slid down his throat. He dropped the shot glass onto the bar top and closed his eyes and savored the bloom of the cheap booze warming his chest. The music from the old jukebox behind him belted out tunes that would have been considered outdated when the place opened.

It was like this most nights. He was alone, exhausted, and well on his way to a pleasant buzz. The one thing Connor had going for him was that he hadn’t started in on his third drink until 11 PM.

That had to be some kind of record. On a Friday night, he was usually shitfaced by 10. Call it the long hours he’d been working, or maybe the fact he felt more self-loathing than usual, he’d somehow managed to hold off on spiraling until nearly midnight.

Definitely a record. And Connor deserved to celebrate.

When he tipped the glass with one finger and caught Jimmy’s eye, he nearly looked away in shame. The bartender had never given him shit before, at least in a verbal sense, but the cool stare he gave Connor now made him want to crawl into a hole and die there.

But Jimmy didn’t say a word, just gave him another dose of poison and turned away, leaving Connor in relative peace to enjoy the game. Denton Carter was kicking ass tonight, so at least there was that.

It was all going beautifully until the door opened and the sound of rain echoed throughout the tiny bar, along with a distinct smell of wet asphalt and dirty concrete. Out of the corner of his eye, Connor saw two of the other regulars shift in their seats to stare at the newcomer.

Not another regular, then. And by how lengthy the stares were and the sudden shift in atmosphere, Connor guessed the barometric pressure had taken a drop due to a pair of long legs and pretty eyes.

Turning his body only far enough to get a glance for himself, Connor was not disappointed, eyeing the stranger from their black dress shoes, up their shapely legs clad in dark jeans, past curvy hips and—

Oh.

Connor turned back in his seat, hunched over and grimacing in disgust, put there by the sight of a blue triangle on a lapel and a glowing armband around one arm. He hadn’t even needed to look higher for the LED to know what the fuck had just waltzed into the joint like it actually belonged there.

He nursed his whiskey, praying the thing would pass him by and leave him the fuck alone. Or better yet, Jimmy would throw it out.

No such luck, of course.

“Detective Anderson,” spoke a smooth, raspy voice to his right. “I’m the YN800 model sent by CyberLife.”

He elected to ignore it. Maybe if he did so for long enough, it would take the hint and go away.

Again, Connor’s luck was not holding out.

“I called your cell phone, but you didn’t answer,” the voice continued, unimpeded. “I then looked for you at the station after checking your home, but you weren’t there either. Your colleagues indicated you tended to frequent the bars in the area, and I was fortunate to find you at the fifth one.”

His eye twitched. This thing had gone to his apartment?

“Well, here I am,” he answered, dry and caustic as he stared straight ahead at the wall of bottles. He calculated how angry Jimmy would be if he took out his service pistol and shot it through the head.

Pretty angry, Connor decided. It would probably leave a stain. Also, he didn’t want to compensate some asshole company for property damage.

“What do you want?” he finally growled, scratching his nail into the bar top already marred with various scuffs and dings.

“You were assigned a case earlier this evening. A homicide.”

Already, a headache was forming between the eyes at the sound of the android’s irritatingly friendly voice.

“Yeah, and?”

“It involved a CyberLife android,” it said in that same smooth inflection. “In accordance with procedure, the company has allocated a specialized model to assist investigators.”

You have to be shitting me.

Connor grit his teeth and clenched his glass tighter, a flush of heat moving through him that had nothing to do with his blood alcohol content. A fucking android was sent to help cops do their job?

Fuck that, and fuck this hunk of junk.

“Good for them,” he answered as he tipped the glass up to his lips. “I couldn’t give less of a shit. Now get the fuck out of my face. We don’t need any help, especially from a plastic pair of tits like you.”

He should have known that wasn’t the end of it. The android spoke again, adopting a tone of what it had probably been programmed as “sympathetic.”

“I understand you may be experiencing reluctance to having an android’s assistance in this matter, but I am—“

“—ruining a perfectly good evening, butting your nose where it doesn’t belong and sure as fuck isn’t welcome.”

Connor put his glass down harder on the bar top than he meant to, nearly spilling his drink.

“I suggest you leave before I void your warranty.”

Connor thought the machine got the message when it finally went silent. He could even see its mood ring spinning yellow out of the corner of his eye before it settled on that annoying placid blue.

He’d just brought the glass halfway to his lips when it said, “I’m sorry, Detective, but I must insist.”

Connor set the glass back down and started to count to ten. He couldn’t lose it now, he’d promised Jimmy he wouldn’t break anything else after the last brawl he’d gotten into.

But the fucking thing just kept on talking.

“My instructions stipulate that I have to accompany you.”

“You know where you can stick your instructions?” Connor growled before downing the glass of whiskey.

It was a good thing he had, because its next words made him choke on spit.

“No. Where?”

Connor set the glass down, and for the first time that evening, fully turned toward the android and stared at it.

The damn thing was staring back, head slightly tilted like a curious puppy. It had large eyes to match the image too, earnest and innocent and entirely too sincere. Its attire at second glance wasn’t the typical android faire. A smooth grey android jacket and a dark, patterned tie marked it as something different. Unique.

And just a little too pretty. Every designed, group-focused imperfection on its face made it that much more appealing. Its hair was neatly coifed, pulled up and pinned behind its head, exposing the smooth curve of its neck.

Hanging down the left side of its face was a strategically-placed lock of hair that Connor immediately want to twirl his finger around. He suspected that was the point.

The further down Connor’s eyes traveled, the more he lost his train of thought. The perfectly sensible tie was lying on the slope of its breasts, something even the jacket couldn’t cover. Why the fuck androids had breasts to begin with, Connor couldn’t begin to fathom, and it seemed even more ludicrous now seeing them on a “specialized model.”

The android hadn’t moved apart from its artificial breathing, another thing about the machines that was uncanny. They weren’t human, and the fact CyberLife kept trying to pass them off as such was a goddamn insult to humanity.

He met the thing’s eye, gave an unimpressed huff, and went back to nursing his drink. If the fucking tin can didn’t understand a dirty innuendo, he certainly wasn’t going to ruin its pristine, virginal programming.

Connor doubted everything that had just gone through his head as those unnecessarily realistic tits were pressed against his elbow, without warning or any sense of decency or a concept of personal space.

“How about this, Detective?”

Connor fumbled, nearly spilling his drink, a massive what the fuck! warning flashing in his head as the machine pressed closer.

“I’ll buy you another drink, on the house. Surely that’s worth a few minutes of your time? And if not, you can send me on my way.”

Connor couldn’t speak with that voice right into his ear like a close confidant, sultry and low and borderline pornographic, so it was a good thing the android didn’t bother waiting for a response.

Instead, it turned to Jimmy and said in a louder, more normal tone, “Bartender, another round for the detective, please.”

Jimmy turned from where he was cleaning glasses on the counter, eyebrows shooting upward as he looked from the machine to Connor. It had backed up a few inches, but there were a lot of reflective bottles on the wall. Connor wondered just how much Jimmy had seen.

Connor gave a little helpless shrug as if to say, Don’t look at me, I don’t know what the fuck it’s doing!

But when the damn thing actually brought out real paper money and set it on the counter, Jimmy got moving. Seemed he wasn’t picky about where his money came from, and Connor almost resented the fact he hadn’t thrown the android out on principle.

Who the hell gave it money in the first place? CyberLife? What, did they hand it a few bucks of allowance before letting it off its leash?

Despite all his reservations, and there were a great many of them, Connor was not about to turn down a free drink. Or two.

“Make it a double,” he grumbled, purposefully avoiding the android’s focused gaze. He could practically feel the thing staring into the side of his head, but at least it remained at a distance and wasn’t pressed against his side like a drunk, horny badge bunny anymore.

“Thanks, Jim.” Connor took the glass and tipped it back, drowning it in one go. The slide of the familiar burn down his throat, spreading throughout his limbs, did quite a lot to help ease the tension in his muscles.

He released a heavy exhale, pushed away from the bar, and got to his feet.

“You want to play plastic cop? Okay, then. Keep up,” he said, tilting his head in its direction without actually looking at it. “Or I’m leaving your ass behind.”

Connor didn’t wait for a response, only raised his hand in parting to Jimmy, and pushed open the door to let the rain-drenched Detroit night swallow him whole. But even through the sound of the rain pinging off the hood of his nearby car he could hear the even footfalls behind him, just a little too close for comfort.

Fucking androids.

Next Chapter

[wordsfromthesol]

The Break-Up

Author: @wordsfromthesol Taglist: @zphilophobiaz  Pairing: Wally West x Batsis!Reader Word Count: 1.4k

Dick was supposed to be on a mission all week in South America. You and Wally were elated, as now you had the whole house to roam free. You could even go on a proper date in Gotham, without worrying that Nightwing might see you while he was on patrol. On day 3, the two of you opted for a movie at home. Cuddled up on the couch, you were completely oblivious that Dick had entered the room. Even Wally wasn't fast enough to break free of your grasp.

"Dick…you're back early." The words stumbled out of his mouth as he meets him on the other side of the living room, trying to put as much distance between the two of you as possible.

"Apparently not early enough. Something you guys need to tell me?" Dick eyed his best friend before turning his glare towards you.

"Nope!" Wally screamed before speeding out of the house. There was no point in trying to hide it. Dick was one of the best detectives and the evidence had been plastered in front of his face.

"We're dating. Have been for a while now." Your lackadaisical demeanor made his reaction worse.

"YOU’RE WHAT?!" He yelled out before adding, "You can't date WALLY!"

"Wait wait wait. So let me get this straight. It's okay for Wally to be your best friend. And it's okay that he knows all about our family secrets. But it's not okay for me to date him? In what world does that make sense Dick?!" You threw your hands up in frustration.

"In the world where you're my baby sister!" Dick knew his argument didn't make sense, but he made it anyway.

"You're being impossible!" You screamed after him as he stormed away.

**

Wally wouldn't answer your calls for the next week. You couldn't even see him if you wanted to and Dick was making sure of that. Hell, the whole family probably was. I mean, why should you get to be happy. Once Wally had decided to stop ignoring your calls, he started making them. Constantly. And now it was your turn to ignore his, it was only fair. That and you had no idea what to say or even how you felt anymore. As soon as your family found out it seemed like Wally crumpled and gave in. He should know better than that, right? Then again, maybe you just weren't worth it. Maybe you loved him more than he loved you.

Finally, you had enough. After all, you could only wallow in self-pity for so long and you definitely didn't want to be around your family any longer. Their constant check-ins and asking if you were going to go on patrol was getting redundant. So you made a decision; first thing in the morning, as everyone was sleeping, you gathered your stuff and left. With your emergency cash and passport in tow, you borrowed one of Bruce's cars and started driving. You had absolutely no idea where you were going, but anywhere was better than here.

**

"Wally?" Dick mumbled out. He hadn't called his best friend in almost a week.

"She's gone. I know. I've already searched the entire city for her." Wally's disheartened tone melted into sorrow. "I really messed up, didn't I?" He heard a long sigh from the other end.

"I think we both did." Silence fell between the old friends as both of them realized their mistakes. Finally, Wally's voice echoed through the speaker.

"Do you think we can find her?"

"I don't know. Tim's looking…but she was trained by Bruce. If she doesn't want to be found…" Dick's voice trailed off, trying not to think of the potential outcomes. "Do you have any ideas?"

"I can…uh…check a few places. But she ran away from me too," Wally's voice grew almost inaudible, "rightfully so."

"She took the blue Nissan sedan. License plate 6J11AN." Neither of them bothered exchanging pleasantries before hanging up the phone. The relationship was still on edge, it didn't feel right.

**

You had absolutely no plans. All the covert training had gone out the window as you mindlessly drove down the winding back roads. Did you have any idea where you were going? Absolutely not. Did you end up following a dirt road to a small, abandoned, and partially dilapidated cabin? Absolutely.

The cabin turned out to be a great project to keep your mind off of the turmoil in your life. It had been a few days and you were working on fixing the fence outside when you felt an unexpected gust of air. Shit. You had become all too accustomed to what followed and there he stood in front of you, mouth agape.

"What do you want Wally?" Your apathetic tone gave him pause, but he soon returned to his normal demeanor.

"Are you kidding?! It's been days Y/N! You haven't made contact with anyone!" You had gotten used to deciphering his slurred speech, but these words were clear as day and filled with trepidation.

"Well, my supposed boyfriend ran as soon as my brother found out, then ignored me for a week. And my brother was a douchebag you said I couldn't date you. I had no one. And torturing myself in that house…I couldn't do it anymore." Wally was speechless, a feat not easily achieved, so you turned back to the fence in dire need of replacement. Before you could pull off another board, Wally grabbed your wrist.

"I fucked up. I know. But I was scared. Dick and I…we've been there for each other since the beginning --" You cut him off, it was an explanation you didn't need.

"Wally. I am his sister. I know that. I watched you two grow up, even though you didn’t always see me. I looked up to him, to you, that's why I became a vigilante. But you had to have known this," you gestured between the two of you, "couldn't have continued without Dick knowing."

"It has been nearly 8 months…" Wally mumbled. He honestly didn't know what he was expecting to do about Dick. He just knew that he had been in love with you for years and he couldn’t take it anymore.

You turned back to the fence with his comment, but as soon as you blinked it had been completely redone. "REALLY WALLY?!" You grew more agitated with every passing moment.

"You're using it as a distraction!" He argued back.

"Of course I am! This whole trip is supposed to be one big distraction! A distraction from the two most important people in my life not caring about me. A distraction from the revelation that I'm completely alone." The words resonated through the air as you began to break down. As you felt your legs grow weak, you became pressed against Wally's chest. You didn't have the time or energy to protest. Somehow hours must have passed, as you heard the engine of Dick's motorcycle make its way down the winding road. Your eyes peered up at Wally, "I think this is the longest you've ever stood still." He didn't say anything but simply pressed a kiss to the top of your head as his friend rounded the corner.

**

You pulled yourself from Wally's arms as Dick approached you. Dick's expression softened as he realized the misery he was putting you through.

"Y/N. I'm sorry." In your 22 years of existence, you could count the number of times Dick Grayson had sincerely apologized on one hand. There was no blame thrown at you or vindication of his actions. Just a simple apology, an effort of recompense. "In actuality, I should've known. The way the two of you look at each other, talk about each other," He chuckled to himself. "I'm supposed to be a detective."

"So the two of you are done being jackasses then?" Your head bobbed from one to the other. The two looked at each other before nodding. "And you were stupid idiots who won't ever put me through something like this again?" Your actions, as well as there's, were repeated. "Fine. Let's go home."

Wally raced in front of you. "Wait. What does that mean for us?"

You shrugged, "I don't know. Guess I'm just hoping for someone who will actually stand up for me." Wally took your hands in his before pressing them to his lips.

"I always want to be there for you. I promise I'll never make that mistake again." 

[joon-xbts]

Long Time(Jay Park)1/2

Artist: Jay Park Genre: Smut

Spring break, a week to release any stress you may have and just have fun. Or in my case a free week to spend with my handsome boyfriend Jay. We’ve been together for a few years now and rather than staying in college he left to pursue his dream of being a rapper. It’s been a few weeks since I last saw him due to my class work and he’s been working on building a career, however since I have a free week I am going to try and spend it with him. Which actually works out since he has something he wants to talk to me about, I’m nervous and excited at the same time. I pull up to the venue and am met with a security guard who then leads me backstage and I am told to wait. I wait like I am told, but then I hear my name being called from on stage and a man appears behind me. Before I know it I am being led up the stairs to the stage, but instead of being met with Jay I am met with an unfamiliar face. 

??: Welcome Y/N everyone!!! We have a surprise for you!

I hate surprises and coming from a total stranger I was definitely NOT liking it. I waited in anticipation for it to come and when the stranger spoke again I prepared myself.

??: Let it loose boys!!

On his command a loud bang was heard and a cold sensation was felt pouring down my body, as soon as it stopped my hands wiped my eyes clean and I looked down to see my arms and everything below covered in green paint. My eyes shot up and I was met with a laughing Jay and I could hear as the crowd erupted into laughter.

You: What the hell Jay?!

Jay: Sorry Y/N, there’s no easy way to say this but I'm breaking up with you

You: Seriously??!

Jay: What can I say Y/N you’re holding me back and I need to move forward with my career, besides you still have college and whatever you want to build a career out of. So good luck

-End of Flashback-

??: Y/N? Y/N are you listening?

You: What, oh sorry Jane I zoned out

Jane: I could tell

You: What were you saying?

Jane: I was telling you about how Jay Park is going from studio to studio trying to find some backup dancers

You: What does that have to do with us?

Jane: He’s coming to our studio today!!

You: You are way too excited for this

Jane: Well yeah, he’s fucking hot

You: He’s not as great as you think

Jane: What’s that supposed to mean?

You: Nothing, let’s just go get ready. We have a class to teach

She just rolls her eyes at me and I make my way to my bedroom, that same memory imprinted in the front of my mind. It’s been 4 years since I've heard someone say that name to me and I had hoped that I would never have to hear about or see him ever again. I quickly change and begin fixing my hair(show look). I then grab my keys and wait for Jane to finish getting ready before we head out the door and to the studio. We get there and as always everyone is there and stretching to get ready for class. 

You: Morning class!

Class: Good morning Miss. Y/N!

Jane: I don’t get recognition, thanks guys

You: You don’t get it cause this isn’t your class. You’re just a visitor, remember?

Luna: Hey Y/N is Jay Park really coming here today??

I look around and spot everyone’s eyes on me, waiting in anticipation of my answer.

You: Honestly I don’t know, there’s other classes in this building. So the odds of him coming here are very slim-

Student: OMG it’s Jay Park!!

My eyes dart to the door where the same man I had fallen in love with years ago stood. Of course he had gotten taller since I last saw him, not to mention he had more tattoos. 

Jay: Don’t let us interrupt, continue on with your class

You: I planned to. Ok class so I told you last week that we would be learning a new dance. So I am going to give you guys a look at how it will be first and then we’ll go over it in parts

I watch as everyone moves to the sides of the room and I get in position, waiting for the music to start.

 As soon as I’m done the class erupts in clapping and I bow before continuing with the lesson. 

You: Ok so we are going to take this dance piece by piece

Just before I begin to show them the dance my phone rings which forces me over to my purse.

You: Jane, do you mind teaching the dance? I have to step out real quick

Jane: No problem Y/N, do what you gotta do

You: Thank you

-Jay’s POV-

I watched as the teacher finished dancing and before she could do anything else her phone rang. She looked very familiar but I couldn’t remember where I remembered her from. I was deep in thought until I heard a name that I hadn’t heard in years…..Y/N

I look up just in time to see her disappear through a door. Damn…..she looks amazing ... I've missed her….

-Later that Night-

-Your POV-

The hours after everyone has left are my favorite time of the day. I get however long I want to be by myself and to practice or construct my routines. These are the hours where I can be free and show my creativity through dance, to get lost in the music and let your body move on its own is one of the best feelings you will ever experience. I am so lost in the music that I don’t hear the door open, it’s only when I hear his voice that I realize I am not alone.

??: So this is what you’ve been doing over the past few years?

You: Well not everyone can be famous Jay

Jay: It’s not about being famous Y/N, I told you to do what you love

You: And I am, just like you 

Jay: I’ve really missed you Y/N

You: You’ve missed me, ha that’s very funny

Jay: You don’t believe me?

You: It’s hard to believe that someone who would spill paint on his girlfriend in front of thousands of people and then dump her, would ever miss her. The only thing you missed was someone to laugh at Jay: I was an ass back then, I’ll admit that but I really did miss you. There hasn’t been a day that went by where I didn’t think about you

You: I doubt that

In an instance his voice changed, it had a sexy undertone to it. 

Jay: Don’t doubt, just trust me babe…. I’ll show you just how much I missed you

His lips were then smashed against mine and I was shoved against the mirror. My legs were swept off the ground and I found them wrapping around his waist as I got lost in the kiss. It had been forever since I had been intimate, let alone intimate with Jay. I was filled with pure ecstasy as his lips moved from mine and began trailing down my neck to my collarbone, leaving marks along the way. One hand moved to grip his shoulder while the other moved to grip his hair. I can feel as his hand snakes up my back to grip my neck and slowly begins to move me towards the hardwood floor, sending chills up my spine as my exposed shoulders come in contact with the cold floor. A cold chill washes over me as Jay’s body is lifted from mine and I watch as he hovers over me.

You: What is it?

Jay: Nothing, it’s just so surreal that this is happening

You: Oh just shut up and kiss me

His lips are lightly pressed to mine as his hand travels towards the hem of my leggings, tugging them down before moving to the belt holding his jeans in place. The only sound that echoed throughout the studio was the clanking of his belt as it was undone and his jeans were pulled down. His lips moved from yours and he was lifted up by his arms to get a good view of you as he slowly pushed through your folds and into your core, stopping to let you adjust to the size. As soon as you were ready you signaled him and he began at a slow pace before picking it up and watching as you buried yourself in his chest. Your moans and his grunts echoed throughout the studio, magnifying your pleasure. You began to clench around his member signaling to him the arrival of your orgasm. A few thrusts later and you released yourself on his member as he kept thrusting in hopes of triggering his own release, which followed soon after. Silence….the only noises were the sounds of your guys’ breathing and shuffling as you fixed yourselves.

Jay: Just so you know, I really did miss you

You: I could tell….

Part 2- Don’t Touch

[extremelyblackandwhite]

tolerate it

pairing: mob!bucky barnes x reader

warnings: violence, harassing

a/n: at this point do i know how many parts this is gonna have? no i’m expecting there to be at least two more, who knows tbh. this part was originally supposed to be champagne problems but i decided to change it to tolerate it and champagne problems will MOST LIKELY be the next one followed by tis the damn season. “tolerate it” the song is from bucky’s point of view and not y/n.

INIVISIBLE STRINGS - CHAMPAGNE PROBLEMS

If it's all in my head tell me now, tell me I've got it wrong somehow ...

     - We need to talk. - her father stood in front of the door, his police hat hanging from his head. - The chief wants to put someone else on the field. 

     - Why? - her stomach dropped and she felt sick. Why did she felt sick? Someone else on the field would make her job easier, safer. But her job wasn’t dangerous or it hadn’t been dangerous so far. Bucky hadn’t been rude, harmful or anything of the sort. He’d protect her even and cared for her his own way. Last thing she needed was one of her father’s colleagues following her around as if she were a child. She had gotten the name of his enemy ... although she had little to no will of revelling it. 

     - Catherine’s son. You remember him. He’s fresh out of the police academy and you two used to be great friends when you were kids. Already got some info on the mob upstate and he could help speed things up.

    - Edward was an asshole and the reason why he got info on the mob upstate was because he stole it from his partner. - she crossed her arms over her chest. She wasn’t the best undercover agent in the world, maybe because she wasn’t an agent at all but it had been their choice to put her alone on the field. A second person would only mean that any slip from them would lead to her getting offed. At least if she was alone, she could blame herself for any harm that came her way.  - Shouldn’t I have been consulted when you made that decision?

     - You’re not part of the force, Y/N. Besides, the sooner this is over, the sooner you can return to your life. What are you wearing anyway?

     - I ...

     - Y/N, thank god you’re home. - Wanda rushed into the living room, crying. Her senses were immediately heightened and the fact her father held no confidence in her whatsover no longer mattered. Wanda did. - Patrick broke up with me.

    - Patrick? - who the hell was Patrick? She remembered Johan and to some extent Ben could be considered an ex-boyfriend but Patrick? Who the heck was he? Before she could question her about it, Wanda was already hugging her side, forehead pressed against her covered. 

   - Well, I see you’re busy. I’ll speak with you later, Y/N. - her eyes remained on the ground as the sound of his heavy uniform boots registered past her, opening the once closed door and returning it with a closed bang to its latches. The defeating sound of silence haunted both of them as Wanda stepped away, cleaning the tears of her cheeks.

   - I was seeing he’d never leave. You’re lucky you have a very good actress for a friend.

  - Thank you, Wanda. I’m sorry I’m this late. - she pulled Bucky’s jacket which was still laying atop her shoulders. - So, is Patrick a fake person?

  - Don’t change the subject. Whose jacket is that? I called the bar and they said you weren’t there. I was worried, Y/N!

    - I was with Mr. Barnes. - she held the jacket against her chest, the scent of his expensive cologne somehow calming her down. Wanda was right to scold her, she wasn’t thinking straight or safe but yet again she didn’t feel in danger when he was near her so why did it matter?

It clearly mattered to Wanda. She knew danger and she knew what they were capable off, being herself a fan of true crime. Last thing she wanted was for Y/N to suffer an accident or suddenly have an overdose or go into alcohol coma. Yet Y/N couldn’t help but stream into the unknown that was so addictive, the warm blanket of safety that he gave her. She was dumb enough to have gotten into the job so she would see it through. 

The brunette of course knew why she was so sweet on this safety. She had known Y/N since the two were babies and there was no lie or hiding when she was intrigued by someone. It had happened two times in her whole life - with Chris when she was 5 and with Joshua when she was 18. There was this twinkle in her eye, that walk of pure calmness as if there was no problem in life. This, this definitely was another time that Wanda would even regret seeing or love to talk about during ringing bells’ celebrations. 

   - You’re a smart girl, please tell me you know the game you’re playing.

   - I do. - she walked out without any more words. She knew if they were to come out she would merely wound herself and what was the use in wounding herself and holding the mirror of truth up to her face if not to drown in her own sea of insecurities?

She sat on her own bed, swallowed by the covers and blankets, shoes thrown aside and earrings in her hands. What was she doing? What was she feeling? Was it even a good idea to think about what she was feeling or even put it into thoughts? No, it wasn’t because a deep and dark part of her knew what it was and the one who wanted to do good, the one who always did good, perfect A’s, perfect assignments refuse to look at. It was best to sleep, nothing good would come out of her if she were tired and so she decided to sleep. 

Morning came like a bad memory and she was up and at those classroom halls in what seemed like minutes. Things went by slowly and she found herself falling asleep on the top of her hand more than usual and she probably would’ve slept throughout her whole anatomy lesson had it not been for the girls sat on the row above her chatting in a very annoying tone. Usually Y/N would’ve just ignored it and razor focus on the lecturer but today all she wanted was to do was to ignore what he was saying. She found herself eavesdropping on their conversation; apparently there had been some confusion on the city centre deriving to some violence which also in a regular day wouldn’t have caught her attention had it not been for the mention of the mob. Her senses perked up and she started tapping her foot against the hardwood of the ground until the clock finally hit finishing time and she was out of the classroom in a rush.

Y/N held the books tight against her chest as she ran down the street, wind penetrating through the knitting holes of her cardigan as shivering her skin as she continued to run on loose and broken cobblestones not exactly knowing why and where she was running to. Well, she knew where to, she just thought better to tell herself she knew where not to. 

The unlit lights of the bar/club came into view and she rushed through the door and straight to the back and to the door she was told never to open. Her hand grasped the handle and pushed it open hoping to not see it empty.

    - What the ... - Mr. Barnes turned around on his chair, expecting to yell at whomever of him clumsy workers had walked in without the decency of knocking only to see his own clumsy bartender. - Looking for tutoring, petal?

    - What? - she questioned before looking at the books she was holding. - Oh, no I was just ... I heard, I saw ...

    - Good that means your ears and eyes work properly. 

    - I heard there was a commotion in the centre and that the mob was involved and I ...

   - You thought to check on me? - he gave her a toothy grin, hands placed on his desk as he rose from his chair. - I’m flattered, petal. 

   - No, I ... I ... - she looked down at her shoes, feeling his presence as he approached her. - I thought my shift would’ve been cancelled if you or anyone else had been harmed. 

   - No. - he hooked a finger under her chin, gently pushing it upwards. - I’m afraid you’ll still have to work. 

   - Ahh ... good. - she felt her mouth dry up as she stared at him. No, you can’t do this anymore, Y/N. You’ve been compromised, go away, give up, quit, say you don’t want to work here anymore. - I have to tell you something.

No, shit. Don’t blow your own cover, what are you doing? Her inner voice yelled at her.

   - I’m all ears.

   - I ... - she was parched, world spinning around yet for some unholy reason she was gonna come clean and maybe eventually end tied to bricks at the end of the river. Why was she coming clean? What are you doing, Y/N? - I’m ...

   - Mr. Barnes? - a third voice shattered everything, making both the mob boss and the bartender look to the owner of said third voice. Edward. - Oh, hey Y/N, I didn’t know you worked here.

   - You know each other? - James’ hands were immediately on his pockets as he took a step in front of the bartender. Had she not known any better, she would’ve assumed it was a protective stance. 

   - We used to date each other back in prep school. 

The answer knocked the two of them back. Y/N mostly because she would never in a million years dated someone like Edward as one he was the son of one of her father’s ex-girlfriend and two she barely could stand him. James, on the other hand, seemingly couldn’t see his bartender, his very clumsy bartender who enjoyed to pretend to be Betty Draper on auctions, dating the newest bar’s cleaning boy, one whom he particularly disliked. 

   - I see. Well, you ought to know I don’t accept work relationships. If that’s all, I was having a conversation with Y/N. 

   - No, it’s fine Mr. Barnes. I need to speak with Edward myself. - she punctuated the last word as if it spewed poison. Bucky looked at her, hands in fists as she walked out with the cleaning boy by the hand as if she herself hand a place in the mob herself. 

She wanted to throw him to the floor once they were out of sight and had it not been for the fact he was taller and physically stronger than her so instead she shoved him against one of the walls.

    - What the hell, Edward? Your ex-girlfriend?! - she whispered-shouted at him.

    - It’s a reason for us to be close so instantly. Trust me, I know what I’m doing.

    - Stay the fuck away from me and don’t you talk to me. - she pointed at him before storming out but not before realising she had left her books, her library borrowed books, on Mr. Barnes’ office.

She turned around out of anger, not really knowing what she was mad about. It wasn’t like she was expecting her father to pay any homage to her wishes of not having Edward around. It didn’t matter really except of course it did but she would never dare to say anything about it. She knocked on the office’s door this time, one which was opened by a very surprised James as if he expected the two ex lovers to be behind his bar reminding themselves of what love feels like.

   - Forgot something, petal?

   - My books. - she pointed at them laying on top of one of his chairs. - I ... they’re from the library, I need them. 

   - Of course. - he handed them to her as if it weighed nothing. - Anything else I can do for you, petal?

   - Oh yes, sorry I forgot. - she opened her bag rummaging through it to find the box of incredibly expensive earrings she had been nervous about carrying with herself the whole day, afraid of being robbed. The bartender handed him the box, receiving a mere eyebrow raise from him. - It’s an incredible gift, Mr. Barnes but I couldn’t possibly accept it. 

   - Why not?

   - It’s too expensive.

   - It’s nothing compared to what I have.

   - Well ... I’d have nowhere to wear it.

   - You should wear them here.

   - I don’t ... I’m not the type of woman who wears things like these. 

   - Come with me. - he took the box from her, moving away from where he was standing and out of the office. As if she were attached to him by some invisible string, she followed straight away, wondering where they were going. He wouldn’t kill her here, and to be honest she started to wonder if he ever would.

He stopped in front of the bathroom’s, opening the door for her and standing near it. She looked at him in confusion, not entirely knowing what he wanted to do in the bathroom or why he wanted her in the bathroom. Was he going to kill her in the bathroom? She stood on her two feet still for a few seconds before going inside still wary of his intentions, whatever they were.

She could hear the sound of her ballerina slips as she entered the tilled dark decorated bathroom which was cleaner than it did during the night. His hand stood in the small of her back leading it against the black marbled counter connected to the mirrored wall. 

     - May I? - he opened the box and she nodded, looking at herself in the mirror. She stood there, motionless yet with feelings heightened as he pushed her hair away from her ears to put the earrings on her. They were slightly heavy, a sign of their value and her mind couldn’t wrap around the fact such expensive jewellery was hanging from her ear lobes. - You look exactly like the type of woman who wears things like those, petal. 

     - You flatter me.

     - I think you just don’t flatter yourself enough. - she turned her head to face him. She could feel his breathe against her forehead. All she could sense was that, his breathe, the smell of his cologne and the sound of silence. Looking up to him, he could see her own reflection, the reflection of her earrings glistening on his baby blue eyes. She didn’t know what to say, eyes glued to his as they both got close to each other until each other’s lips were touching, melting in want.

The silence seemed to burst into fireworks of each other’s heartbeats as his hands held her waist close to him. They were too lost on each other, both forgetting for a moment who each was to give way to their own choices. 

    - Mr. Barnes? - someone knocked on the door, that invisible string pulling them together breaking as they stopped kissing and stepped away from each other. 

     - I’m busy. - he yelled out.

     - Mr. Barnes there’s someone here for you. 

     - I said I’m busy.

     - No, it’s fine. - she rushed her fingers through her hair, one hand against the counter holding her up. What had she done? - You should go.

     - Petal.

     - It’s fine. - both hands now held the counter, eyes shut. - You should go. 

I sit and watch you ...

taglist: @lookiamtrying @mariamermaid @sebastianstansqueen @unmagically @buckybarnes1982 @mela-noche @lowercasegenius @randomweirdooo @projectcampbell @sebbystanlover-vk @jevans2 @hollarious @itsallyscorner @tcc-gizmachine @saiyanprincessswanie​ 

[masonscig]

antidote

pairing | mason x sofía

word count | 2.4k

warnings | mention of rook’s death and breaking her wrist when she was a kid, so you know. a little angst. some suggestive language towards the end!

author’s note | so this is my late entry for day one of warm in wayhaven, cooking – as usual when i’m writing these two i can’t shut up for the life of me

•─────────────────•

He wakes up from his first nap in a week to the smell of chicken.

There’s only one person in the entire warehouse that could be cooking at 2 in the morning without burning the place down.

He trods barefoot down the dark hallway, his sweatpants hung low off his hips.

Putting on pants was a formality, really. But he had roommates that’d have aneurysms over anything less, so he’s usually at least half clothed when he ventures outside of his room.

The smell gets a lot stronger, mixes with other scents the closer he gets.

Her heartbeat’s stronger in his ears, though, so he keeps going, despite the way his nose is crinkled and his fists are clenched.

When he makes his way to the kitchen, he stops at the doorway, perching his hip against the frame.

She’s pulled a chair up to the stove, chin balanced on her knees that are up against her chest.

Her eyes are glued to the big silver pot that sits there, steam leaking out from the ventilation tiny holes in the lid.

Her hair’s tossed up in a messy bun, and from the glimmer of light from the overhead light above the stove, he can see that a few strands are plastered to the back of her neck and forehead.

She reaches out to twist the knob all the way to the left, then struggles to pick the pot up.

Despite him not announcing himself, he’s next to her in a flash, moving the pot to the other burner in a flash.

“Oh, hey,” she murmurs distractedly. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“Nah.”

She nods, barely even giving him a second glance, grabbing the lid and placing it on the counter.

The steam threatens to curl higher and higher, but with a quick flip of a switch, the stove’s fan is pulling it into its vents.

There’s something definitely wrong with her – she’ll bake cupcakes for an elementary school bake sale at 2 a.m., but never soup. Who the fuck makes soup in the dead of night?

“I’m not an expert on human food by any means,” he starts, grimacing at the way the scent wafts towards him when she swirls the wooden spoon through the broth. “But why the hell are you making soup when it’s hot as fuck outside?”

She shrugs, dipping the spoon flat against the surface of the hot broth, filling it to the brim. “I was hungry.”

She brings it to her mouth, lips pursed, and blows on it, thin tendrils of steam floating towards him.

He’s still trying to figure out what the fuck is wrong with her when she sips it, a small tired smile blooming across her features.

The soft breathy hum that buzzes from her throat is low enough for both of them to hear, nearly matching the pitch of the whirring fan.

He doesn’t wanna press his luck with her, considering they're being civil.

It’d been a week since they were ambushed and she came face to face with her attempted kidnapper.

Things between Mason and Sofía were already… complicated, to say the least.

Different attitudes, different wants, different needs. He’d managed to fail in all three of those categories, disappointing her over and over without really trying to.

There was a certain level of avoidance from the both of them for the days following the ambushing. It’s not that he wanted to get her alone nor he did he care if she was avoiding him, but this was the first time he’d been alone with her all week, so he wasn’t going to actively try to fuck this up.

“That’s it?” he asked, keeping it simple.

She ignores him, instead flitting around the kitchen to grab a bowl and a spoon.

Well, she’d be amicable if she kept quiet – she wasn’t wrong with that one.

He watches as she fishes out sliced vegetables, an ear of corn, and chicken, then fills the bowl to the brim with broth.

Setting it on the table, she grabs a stained tortilla warmer from the microwave and scoots up to her bowl, digging in with one hand, a tortilla rolled in the other.

She’s still sweating under the heat, her chest glistening, the seams of her tattered tank damp underneath her armpits.

He sinks into the chair across from her, arms crossed. 

“You gonna keep ignoring me?”

“Maybe,” she says from behind her hand (and around a mouthful of veggies).

“Tell me to leave, then, and I’ll go. Just say the word, sweetheart.”

He knows she won’t.

She lifts her eyes from the bowl to meet his own lazy gaze. Without saying another word, she dunks her rolled tortilla in the broth and takes a bite.

“That’s what I thought. You gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

“You’re not that invested in my life outside of work, are you?” She challenges, mashing the back of her spoon against a vegetable until it’s smooth, scooping it up with a little broth and popping it into her mouth.

He shrugs. “I just know you’re lying, that’s all.”

“You lie all the time,” she counters immediately, pointing the tip of the spoon at him.

“When?” He knows she’s right, but she hasn’t brought it up since she stormed away from him outside of the warehouse, drenched and shivering.

“You lied at the bakery.”

Bingo.

He leans forward till his elbows are on the table, resting his chin on the back of his interlaced fingers.

“So that’s what you’re upset about.”

He’s a foot away from her, the temptation of closing the gap between them nearly tugging his shoulders forward.

Her face contorts into a grimace, bordering on disgust. “That’s not at the forefront of my mind, no.”

She swirls her spoon around the bowl, eyes following the movements of her wrist.

“I hate the summer. I always have.”

He stifles a wince as he leans back until his bare back presses against the cool plastic.

“Bad things always happen to me in the summer, you know? Dad died during the summer. Mom forgot to pick me up at science camp for a full twenty-four hours when I was 9, and I had to spend a whole day alone with no friends after everyone had gone home. That’s also the same summer she took her first month-long assignment.

“The next summer, they extended it from a month to a full summer. I broke my wrist on my neighbor’s trampoline, and she didn’t even visit me until my cast was getting sawed off.

“Bobby dumped me for the first time during the summer before he studied abroad so he could sleep with whoever he wanted.”

She shakes her head, dropping the spoon and tortilla.

“Sorry, I, uh, I’m just happier in the fall and winter,” she smiles apologetically.

“And that’s why you’re makin’ soup at 2 a.m.?” He asks, eyeing her warily.

“Yeah, kinda. It sounds stupid when you put it like that, really,” she giggles, scooting the bowl forward so she can rest her elbows there too, her chin in her hands.

A sigh escapes her, low and grim. “This dish is really special to me.”

He waits for her to continue, but she just sinks her teeth into her bottom lip instead, chewing nervously at the skin there.

He kicks his toe against her slipper clad foot, a gentle nudge to get her to speak.

He’s gotten pretty good at reassuring her without words, he thinks. Better than when they first met, that’s for damn sure.

“My favorite picture of my dad and I is one where I’m sitting at my high chair and I barely have two teeth in my mouth and my dad is feeding me mashed zucchini and yucca root. He’s laughing and smiling like he wouldn’t rather be doing anything else in the entire world than eating soup with his daughter.”

Mason stiffens at the mention of her father, and even worse so, feels remorse start to trickle into his bones.

It’s stupid to think he could’ve done anything. He pushes those thoughts to the side, recognizing the remaining scrappy morsels of humanity in him clawing its way to the surface. Impulse has always been the most human part of him – maybe she’s changing that.

He doesn’t really know who he was before this, but what he does know is any inkling of humanity he has surfaces when he’s with her.

Yeah, he can’t feel what it’s like to lose a parent, but watching Sofía tear up over bittersweet memories was enough on its own.

“Your dad cooked?”

“Yeah, from what I can remember, yeah. All of our old cookbooks are in his and my abuela’s handwriting.”

She looks like she wanted to say something more, so he leans back, arms across his chest, waiting.

“When I was in high school, I tried making it on my own and it was so shitty. I wanted to surprise Rebecca, because I knew she was getting back from a stressful work trip, and I couldn’t do it like he did. She didn’t even notice that I’d tried,” she sighs, picking up her spoon again to sip the broth.

She hums again, chews, swallows.

“I don’t know why I was so naive back then, you know? I thought I could chop a couple veggies and toss them into seasoned water and it’d turn out just like Dad made it.

“In reality, I didn’t even know what it tasted like. My mom described the taste to me once before, but she never cooked, so I just went off of what she told me. I romanticized the whole thing right down to making up the flavor in my own head.”

“That’s probably why I made the soup tonight. I miss when I was happy, but even then, what the fuck did that even look like to me? I’m just telling myself I was happy because I saw photos of me being happy, but I can’t recall that feeling by memory at all.”

She darts a hand under her eyes to rub it away before he notices, but he can see her eyes glistening.

“How am I homesick for a life that was never really great to begin with, you know?”

He leans forward, brows furrowed. “It doesn’t matter if you can’t remember. Fuck those old memories. Make new ones.”

He’s speaking from the heart now, compelled to say something before his mind can stop him.

Chuckling with a quick sniffle, she gets up to grab a drink from the fridge. “I know you mean well, but it’s hard when you’ve got an active bounty on your head.”

“Things will get better.” He’s not a beacon of positivity in the slightest, but she’s too good to be feeling this bad, so he has to say something.

“Things can get better.”

“What?”

“It’s not guaranteed. Not for me, at least. Probability’s never worked out in my favor,” she smiles weakly, unscrewing the cap to the water and sipping it politely.

“You’ve got a team making sure things will get better, sweetheart. No matter what.”

“You’re all here by force, though. After you leave, I’m still gonna be stuck here, and –”

She waves her free hand, the other one gripping the damp water bottle.

“I’m sorry. I’m just tired. I’ll be less of a mess in the morning.”

“Not all of us,” he says, delayed, but hoping she gets it.

“Not all of us what?”

“Are here by force.”

She grips the bottle harder, the plastic crackling. She knows what he means now.

“That’s… uh, good to know,” she murmurs, a smile tugging at her features. “Thanks.”

“Didn’t do anything to warrant a thanks.”

She rolls her eyes, sitting back down at the table. “You’re gonna have to get used to my manners, Mason.”

“Never,” he smirks, leaning over the table, over the soup, running his thumb over her bottom lip before standing.

“You don’t like it because you don’t have any.”

He snorts, a hearty laugh ripping out of his vocal cords and echoing off the tile flooring. “Damn right.”

She smiles, too, this time though with her whole body. It’s dim in the kitchen, but she’s shining nonetheless.

The smell’s grown on him a little bit. The shit honestly reeks, but he doesn’t mind it.

He follows her when she makes her way to the cabinets underneath the countertops, retrieving a big glass bowl.

When she bends down, he tentatively steps behind her, leaving a hair’s width space between them. He’s hesitating to touch her, even as she glances back at him reassuringly and closes the gap between his stomach and her back.

The hum that leaves her this time as he hooks a lazy arm around her waist sounds just like the one she let out when she tasted the soup.

She gently guides his hands to grip the edges of the bowl while she pulls the pot closer.

“So what’s this shit called?” He asks, crinkling his nose as she ladles it in, grimacing when some splashes his hand.

He knows he’s there for something, but he can’t quite remember what for when she licks the stray drops from his thumb.

“Caldo de pollo,” she smiles, snapping the plastic top until it’s airtight, guiding him to the fridge.

He knows “pollo” is Spanish from the times Felix watched kids shows to pick up on English. (He could never quite shake the looping sound byte of Felix’s southern drawl saying “poy-yo” when he discovered Dora the Explorer.)

“You gotta make it for Nate sometime,” he suggests, wrapping his other arm around her waist when she closes the fridge door.

She turns in his grasp, splaying her hands on his bare chest, dragging her thumbs over the tuft of hair in the middle of it.

“Thank you, really,” she whispers, eyes trained on her moving hands. “I mean it.”

He’s shit at accepting thanks with words, so instead he kisses her. He fights the urge to deepen it, to open his mouth to taste her.

She’s not ready to let him in like that just yet. He thinks it’s enough that she’s letting him touch her at least.

The lingering taste of chicken is disgusting, but he’s enduring it, because Sofía’s humming like he’s the best thing she’s tasted in years.

[alicemitch09writes]

lame

05.

there’s a scar you’re not telling

You almost thought you were running late. Well, you weren’t.

But you were late to miss the early train.

Fuck.

And the train was packed. Just fucking great.

With your backpack hung in front of you, you tried to balance within your personal space whilst avoiding bumping into others. Thing was, it was getting more and more cramped as it was rush hour.

Why the fuck did school have to be so damn far!?

Businessmen, students, workers slowly filled in and out the train, it was wall-to-wall of people, barely allowing you a breather. Still, it was fucking cramped.

Absentmindedly, you bunched your hair together, letting it drape over your left shoulder, fingers nimbly working on a braid through your (h/c) locks.

Just as you secured it with a tie, the train cart screeched, the sudden movement throwing you off balance, falling back. Thankfully, warm hands grabbed hold of your shoulders, steadying you.

Your eyes turned to the windows, wondering if there was an attack from villains, some people were muttering behind you, thinking the same thing. Overhead, the PA went off, apologizing for the turbulence then announcing the next stop coming up.

Everyone sighed in relief, realizing it was just a train momentum, people were now shuffling around at the announcement, some preparing to leave while many others struggled to remain in their current spots.

Looking over your shoulder, towards your captor, with a smile you offer your gratitude. “Whew, thanks- “then you met ash blond and carmine, smile faltering, lower eye twitching, but a gratitude was still in order. “Yeah, thanks.”

Bakugou Katsuki's response was a noncommittal hum, roughened hands slowly slipping off your shoulders. As the train came to a stop, there was a shuffling of people, you were just about to take a step back, allowing people to move, but remembered that he was behind you. Though you were steady on your feet, it was still rush hour and people tend to really rush into the train - not wanting to miss the train. One false move and you could find yourself squished against someone, or against the window, or be cornered by some pervert – all options made you shudder.

Damn it. This is why you take the early train!

“Here,” without waiting for you to argue, roughened hands gently brought you aside, your back against the wall, shoulder touching the railing, with him in front of you. Protectively.

The feel of his hands on you made you remember just how warm they were, how big they’ve become compared to before.

“Um,” you didn’t like the way his eyes bore into yours, especially when it felt like he was seeing through you. “thanks. Again.”

Okay, not counting the time you had to confirm it earlier, that was two times already. Two words of gratitude in one morning.

He just blinked, towering over you whilst the train filled. Just the mere fact that he was in front of you made you consider a lot of things. Now that you had a good look at him, you could see that in his UA uniform, he was dressed rather ruggedly with the top buttons undone, even his blazer’s not completely buttoned, and his pants were loose – Auntie Mitsuki must’ve given him hell for his appearance. It was a total contrast to Izuku, who dressed like a good schoolboy – granted, he’s always been one. He just didn't know how to work a tie.

Regardless, he looked every bit of a high schooler now. Physically speaking, he’s always been muscular in build and tall – because of his good genes. But in a matter of time, because of his UA education, he’ll probably build up more.

But wow, it’s only been a few months since high school started, he’s definitely gotten bigger. Izuku, as well, but Bakugou’s muscles were more prominent-

Shit, were you ogling him?

Geez, it’s too early for these thoughts. Leaning against the railing, eyes squeezing shut, tucking your chin in, you groaned angrily to yourself.

Thankfully, you had your bag in front of you, creating a respectable space between you both.

Also, you could just end up not talking right? That was a thing.

You barely know the guy anymore, after years of bullying under his command, years of distance – he was nothing but a stranger to you now.

It hurt, actually.

There was a time when you were so close, never apart.

Everything just had to change because he had a quirk, birthing this damn ego that propelled him further and further away from you. Izuku, too.

And though you had your own (longer than Izuku), you felt so behind.

Him and Izuku in their UA uniforms, you in your generic public-school uniform.

The two of them were going places you could never see yourself following.

“Hey,” he called, voice surprisingly soft, cutting you off your thoughts. “that mark on your neck,” due to the environment noises surrounding, he had to lean in so you could hear him properly. “how did that happen?”

Fuck. He was too damn close!

But at the mention of the mark, hands instinctively reached for it, just by the junction of your neck and shoulder, abnormally shaped like a heart. A tiny splotch, that was over years old.

“You wouldn’t remember.” It was barely a whisper, but it reached his ears, carmine eyes faltering.

“Try me.”

Lifting your head, (e/c) eyes meeting carmine, fixing him an almost pained look. He balled his hand into fists at that, gazes holding, unwavering - a thousand words could be spoken.

The train came to a steady halt, finally reaching your stop.

Not breaking eye contact, you told him, in one breath. “It was when you discovered your quirk in kindergarten.” Then the doors opened beside you.

Hurriedly, you exited, never looking back.

Absentmindedly, your hand reached for the mark. To others, it might look cute due to its shape, but to you, it was a reminder. One of the many, anyway.

(It burned when you touched it.)

Middle school was a rough time, especially when you were the quirkless girl, an easy target, or a punching bag. Little did they know of your martial arts prowess and of your quirk, that even though you were restless in the morning, you learned to conserve just enough energy to fight, it just made you extra tired the next day though.

One day, you were cornered by a bunch of girls, all of which were fangirls of Bakugou, they saw you as a threat because of your relationship as childhood friends, forgetting that it was rather strained.

It was a four against one, which you easily won - because they chose to approach you near dusk, that was when your quirk picked up, but not without casualties.

“E-Eh, (Nickname)!? What happened to you?” Izuku frantically hovered over you when you met on the way to school.

Chuckling easily, you scratched at your bandaged cheek. “Ah, you know…assholes with quirks.”

His expression only worsened; eyes filling with tears. “(N-Nickname)…”

“IZUKU, PLEASE DON’T CRY!” you cried out, tossing your shoes into your shoe locker, lazily slipping on your indoor shoes. “Don’t worry, Izuku, I got them all.” You assure, adjusting your bag on your shoulders. “Besides, you’re forgetting that I’m a badass who knows martial arts!”

That quells him a little, worry still in his eyes. “T-That’s true. I’m just not sure how to feel that you have to resort to actually using them to defend yourself. I mean, I know you’re good at martial arts, because it’s in the family, and you’ve always been kind of strong and quick on your feet-“

“Izuku,” cutting him off, you worked on a cheeky grin. “I’m fine.”

Unconvinced, he fixes you a look, brows knitting together. “Just promise me you won’t get into fights again,”

Ah, he’s so cute when he’s being serious.

Scoffing, you swiped at your nose with your thumb. “No promises, so long as loose assholes with quirks continue to run amok and mess with me, I’ll show them exactly how I’ll mess them back and worse!”

That only made him uneasy, somehow a bit assured. “(N-Nickame)…”

When you both entered the room, your eyes easily caught on the girls from yesterday, each sporting some cuts and bruises from yesterday. The corner of your mouth lifted into a smirk, whistling breezily towards your seat.

“F-For now, (Nickname), are you feeling better? Do you want some aspirin? Do you need to head to the clinic?”

You shook your head, smiling at Izuku’s concern, he can really mother too much. “Like I said,” you said in a sing-song “I’ll be fine~ This’ll all heal soon enough, you’ll see.”

As soon as you said that, a pair of carmine eyes looked your way, focusing on each and every bandage and bruise on your skin.

Feeling someone looking your way, you turned your head. “Can I help you, Bakugou?” you drone lazily, leaning back against your seat to give him a bored look.

“A-Ah, K-Kacchan! G-Good morning- “

“Should’ve stayed at home to rest, idiot.” He tells you, eyes never leaving the bruises and bandages.

“Fuck off.” You replied, knowing the girls from yesterday were watching. Hopefully, that assured them that your relationship was pretty non-existent. Dead.

For the rest of the day, you were teetering on sleep and academic dedication with the former winning at each turn – a drawback of your quirk. Thankfully, you managed to snag some sleep during Japanese Literature and Science.

“Ah, (Nickname), you look like you’re getting better. But it would be wise not to sleep in class next time…” Izuku tells you, beratingly.

Yawning, arms stretched upwards, you fixed your best friend a dopey grin. “That’s alright, I can always depend on you for notes!”

“Really,” he sighs, announcing that you two should probably head off to lunch.

Yawning, you made your way to the meat section, mumbling over and over the things you need to buy for dinner. Lately, because your grandfather’s been working with Eraser Head, he’s been quite antsy when it comes to food, and a bit demanding, too!

Tonight, he wanted steak. FUCKING. STEAK. IT WAS EXPENSIVE FOR CRYING OUT LOUD! AND HE DIDN’T EVEN SPECIFY WHICH STEAK HE WANTED!

Grumbling under your breath, you were just about to reach for the Wagyu steak (on sale, lucky you) when another hand appeared, reaching for the same thing, making you halt.

“Ah-" looking up, you were met with familiar warm brown eyes. "Uncle Masaru!”

“Oh, (Name)-chan, it’s you!” Came his soothing calm voice, eyes brightening at the sight of you. “It’s been a while.”

“It has been, Uncle.” Your smile grew, turning to him fully before the cold wind gently whispered to your skin as if to remind you. “Ah, you can have it, by the way.”

“No, no, you were reaching for it first.”

“No, I insist!”

“Please, (Name)-chan, it’s the least I can do. Also, this at least gives me an excuse to make something else,” he replies sheepishly with a light chuckle.

You paused at that, processing the information shared. Bakugou must’ve wanted steak for dinner, but since Uncle Masaru gave up the meat, it was yours now. It was your win.

Pettily taking the win as yours, you happily took the steak and dumped it into your basket. “Thanks, Uncle Masaru!”

If he noticed the mischievous – almost devil-like expression on your face, he didn’t mention it. He just smiled, kindly, warmly, like how you remembered.

“How have you been?” he asks you.

Normally, the question would annoy you, because it was rather basic. But it’s not every day you run into sweet, mild, and good-natured Uncle Masaru.

“Eh, I’m doing very well, as you can see.”

“I’m so happy to hear that. You used to be the smallest thing, with scrapes and bruises on your pretty dresses. Whenever you and Izuku were over, it was either a riot or a party.” Okay, you had to laugh at that, but it was true. Uncle Masaru laughs with you. Having him remember those things were endearing, made you feel warm. And guilty.

“I know it might seem awkward, but Mitsuki and I would love to have you over for dinner sometime. If that’s okay with you? Of course, you can bring Izuku-kun.”

Glancing up, you met the man’s kind gaze, the one thing Bakugou never got from him – everything was from his mom, he only ever got Uncle Masaru’s spiky hair and height.

You didn’t want to say no, neither can you say yes, but you sure as heck didn’t want to disappoint Uncle Masaru.

“No promise, Uncle Masaru,” his expression fell, shoulders dropping. “but, I’ll see what I can do.”

He smiled weakly. “Then that’s more than enough for me. Just don’t be a stranger, (Name)-chan, okay?”

Smiling softly, you bowed at the older man and turned on your heel.

Cutting your losses with someone really hurts, especially when it involves certain people.

Cutting off from Bakugou meant you had cut off all contact with his parents, whom you loved so much since they took care of you for a time when your parents had passed – both taking turns to visit you when you were deep in depression. It hurt, but it was expected when you decide to cut someone from your life. Nobody is spared.

This time it was seven-against-one.

After having their asses served to them, those bitches managed to talk some filthy high schoolers into beating a middle schooler. A quirkless middle schooler.

Rolling your shoulders, you enjoyed the burn of your wakened muscles. “Wow, you bitches really want to make yourselves look bad in front of an audience, huh?”

So far, they’ve all showed to have power quirks that could be readily usable for the future, should they decide to make use of it. Sadly, their prized quirks turned out to be nothing but a waste for these fuckers.

You easily toyed with them for the first few minutes, allowing a few hits in before retaliating with a force and speed that was twice theirs. You made sure that the punches and kicks, especially to those bitches, stung and hurt, they were your own brute strength honed from training and your quirk.

A sickening crunch rang in your ear after some high school student punched you in the cheek, you made sure to return the favor by capturing his next punch, taking your legs up to strangle him by the neck, catching him completely by surprise, using your weight to swing your body towards an approaching somebody before jumping off.

Watching the two high schoolers stumble to the ground, you lazily walked up to the rest, fingers caked with dirt, grime, and blood, knuckles aching, a dark bruise forming on your arm, (h/c) hair was a mess.

Spitting blood on the ground, you wiped the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand, grinning at your next opponent, eyes glinting dangerously, menacingly, excitedly.

The rest of them faltered at your expression but didn’t back down.

That was alright, that meant they weren’t complete pussies after all.

Also, you liked fighting.

You came from a family of fighters, the thrill of it made your blood sing, made your instincts come alive – it made you feel alive.

“Hey, I’m a little disappointed,” you call out, watching the group – beaten and bruised. “you lot say you’re strong, an added bonus is your oh-so-cool quirks, so beating a measly, quirkless middle schooler like me should be no problem,” working on your most sickening grin, you tilted your head. “right?”

“Fucking bitch!”

“Now you’re really asking for it!”

“We’ll beat you black and blue!”

Falling into a stance, adrenaline rushed through your veins (and mentally preparing for a tongue lashing from your grandfather), when an explosion went off.

Clouds of smoke and sand filling the air, gushing furiously against the wind, making you squint.

“OI! IS THIS SOME DIRTY TRICK!?” you yelled, voice fading into noise of wind, sand, and explosions.

More explosions went off, going out at random – big, small, small then big. There was screaming and panicking on their end. Maybe they’ve probably found themselves in some yakuza turf and are being under attack? Shit, you had to make a run for it while you had the chance!

The sudden change of scene wasn’t good for your senses, everything was completely mushy and too much to comprehend. You at least remember where you put your bag, running towards a certain direction, you stopped at the sight of one of the fuckers. Their eyes widened at the sight of you, you readied a fist, but the gust was making your eyes water.

Falling to your knees, you covered your mouth as you coughed – having inhaled too much smoke and dust in your lungs, he saw this as an opportunity to attack you. But something grabbed him by the shoulders, some punches and groans followed, then an explosion could be heard before footsteps approached you.

Too busy coughing your lungs out, you were ready for any pain thrown at you, especially when you were at your most vulnerable.

Instead, a garb lands on your head, shielding you, arms easily scooping you off the ground, something lands on your belly, then loud hurried footfalls were taking you away from the scene.

The more you coughed, the more it felt like your lungs were going to give out, too strained to heighten your senses.

Eventually, your cough died down, your hands rubbing at your chest from coughing too much, throat dried out.

Ah, I probably will run into those assholes again, since we weren’t able to finish the fight.

You must’ve passed out – or dozed off, you weren’t sure – because the next thing you knew, you were being lowered down gently on a soft and cool sofa.

“W-Where…?”

Tugging the garb off your head, (e/c) eyes flinched at the light, strained to make out the furniture around you, the familiar TV set, the fancy-looking wall panel, the familiar staircase, that unmistakable family portrait – one brunette, two explosive blondes-

Wait, you were at Bakugou’s place?

What the heck, you haven’t set foot here in forever! Why’d he bring you here?

Fully coming to, you turned to the blond “Why’d you bring me here!?” you had to ask, demanding.

The sudden movement stung at your fresh injuries, making you coil in your seat.

“Where else was I going to take you?” he replied immediately, coolly, loud enough for you to hear as he was taking two bottles of water from the refrigerator. “My place was closest, yours takes a while to get there, plus, you wouldn’t want to worry your family, right?”

You stared at him, distrustfully, then at the water offered to you, shocked to find that he remembered how much your family would worry over your injuries – big or small. He was always the one carrying you home, almost witnessing first-hand how much your mother would be near tears, your grandfather giving you a murderous-worried look, and your father just ash-faced and pale.

Taking the water from his hand, you nodded your thanks, pressing the cool item against your jaw, hissing in pain from the punch thrown earlier.

Carmine eyes narrowed at that, an emotion crossing over them.

“Don’t move,” he orders, walking off somewhere, you don’t care, eyes wandering around the area. It’s been a while since you were here, the last time was when it was his 10th birthday. After that, though, you and Izuku stopped receiving invitations.

Twisting the cap open, you took gentle sips, relishing in the cool water running down your throat.

The Bakugous were loaded – because Uncle Masaru worked in the fashion industry and Auntie Mitsuki worked in a cosmetics company. The two adored you, treating you like a daughter they never had – Uncle Masaru would gift you cute dresses (which Bakugou would make fun of you whenever you wore them) whenever he can, and Auntie Mitsuki was a hard-ass woman you looked up to.

But since discovering his quirk, Bakugou had become unbearable to be with, a shitty friend to both you and Izuku, ties had to be severed. However, that also meant not being able to see Uncle Masaru and Auntie Mitsuki, who were surely saddened by you and Izuku’s absence.

Suddenly, Bakugou was in front of you, his gakuran unbuttoned, exposing his shirt underneath, a first aid kit in hand. Eyes meeting, a silent conversation was being held, carmine clashing against (e/c). Fixing him a dull stare, he clicked the first aid kid open. With a roll of your eyes, you allowed him to clean your wounds.

Silence filled in, nothing you both seemed to mind. Surprisingly, for a guy with an explosive, volatile quirk and a shitty attitude, he was rather gentle. Not like you’ll ever tell him that, eyes looking around the house, remembering the times you were over with Izuku, anything to avoid staring at him in awe.

“Do they always come for you…” having finished cleaning most of your wounds, his voice came out quiet, but you heard it, a statement rather than a question.

Blinking, you were unsure if he deserved an answer. He thought that was the case and asked again, dipping iodine into the cotton, “Do they always-“

“I don’t see how this is any of your concern.”

Noticeably, his fingers stilled. Then, something smoked, it was the cotton ball, now reduced to ashes. A beat passed before he found himself working again, getting another cotton, now applying ointment to your bruises.

“Do you always need to fight them back?” There was a slight edge to his voice, controlled yet on the verge of breaking.

(E/c) hardened down on him, a seesaw of options playing in your head.

“Have to.” You reply breezily, watching him snap his head up to meet your gaze, unfazed by the anger in his carmine eyes. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“No shit.” He growled, hands beginning to shake. “What I do understand is the disciplinary action you’re gonna get once people find out you’ve been fighting fellow students, even if it were an act of self-defense! Y-You,” he slammed his fist into the glass table beside him, cracking it a little, his head hanging. “you could’ve just called the teachers, told them, too. About those bitches…”

“Again, I don’t see how this is- “

“YOU’LL BE FUCKING EXPELLED, (NAME)!” head still hung low, you could feel his hot breath and tufts of his hair against your skin, making you tingle a bit. It scared you to be this close to him, after all this time. Scared of how he was still protective of you.

Hating how you could hear the guilt in his voice because, in a way, he caused this, he allowed this, he was the reason. He was scared for you.

And he called you by your name.

The seesaw in your head continued, teetering, options weighing one after another.

“…why do you care?” One option up, the other falls. In the end, you just destroyed the seesaw. “Why waste your breath and time on an extra like me, quirkless too, if I might add, why waste your time?”

His head snapped up to yours, his expression was a shock to you. Why…why did he look so devastated, so crushed, so- “(Name)…”

Unable to stay any longer, never mind your still healing body, you stood. “I’m going now. Thanks for treating my injuries. I’ll..." you gulp, hard. "I'll try to avoid getting into fights.” Without waiting for a reply, you grabbed your bag, heading towards the door. “Bye.”

The next day, extremely exhausted from the fighting, Izuku once again panicked at the sight of your bruised and beaten face. When you reached the classroom, you were more than ready to meet the gazes of those bitches – only to find out they had been suspended, as they were given serious warnings should they cause another fight with you.

Apparently, someone had reported their involvement in ganging up on a quirkless student. Plus, there was a video of them taunting you since first year.

Bakugou was in his seat, looking anywhere but your way. Returning the gesture, you quietly sat in your seat, listening to whatever Izuku had to say.

Since then, you swore never to get into fights anymore for the sake of Izuku, and because Bakugou practically begged you.

“How’s school?” your grandfather asked, helping himself to some bok choy.

Shrugging easily, you cut a piece of steak, gesturing for his bowl to serve it to him. “Could be worse, but I’m doing fine.”

“Clarify, silly girl.”

“Mathematics continues to chew me in the ass,” you tell him, avoiding the hit thrown your way.

(Name) – 1, Shihan – 0.

“You’re failing already!?”

“Translation: it’s difficult, not I’m failing. Geez, old man, context!”

You barely dodged the chop aimed for your head, making you wince from the pressure.

(Name) – 1, Shihan – 1.

“That’s no way to talk to your elders, silly girl!” handing you an empty bowl, you nearly pawed it off his hands.

Angrily, you scooped him his heaping, a mound of hot rice returned to him. “Where do you think I take it from!?”

(Name) – 2, Shihan – 1.

“Enough arguing, more eating, foolish girl! We have training to do!”

(Name) – 2, Shihan – 2.

Narrowing your eyes at your grandfather, you wished lasers would come out just to fry off the last of his remaining hair out of petty spite.

Regardless, you loved your grandfather and appreciated these banters. He was rough on you, only because he wanted to teach you to be strong and to be able to hold off whatever was thrown your way so you can repay them back twice, thrice, or ten times more.

You were his pride and joy the moment you were born and swore to your parents that he’d guide and protect you so long as he was still kicking.

“I ran into Uncle Masaru today.”

“Oh! How is the man?”

“Same as always. Not a single grey hair in sight, despite living in a household full of rabid Pomeranians and hitting his forties.”

The Yoruichi patriarch stared down at you, unamused. “Please don’t tell me you told him that.”

Snickering, you deftly avoided his chops.

(Name) – 3, Shihan – 2.

“Gramps, please, like I’d be so willing to break Uncle Masaru’s heart.”

“You don’t have a problem doing that to me.”

“Simple: you’re literally and figuratively old,” you pointed with your chopsticks, waving them in the air as you enumerated more. “you’re Shihan of our dojo, and you have to raise me!”

(Name) – 4, Shihan – 3.

You failed to block the flick on your forehead after finishing your piece.

“Don’t wave your chopsticks in the air, fool, it’s rude.” Snickering at your whining, knowing it’ll leave a mark, he ate more steak. “And easy there with your words, silly girl, otherwise, I’ll repay your kindness in training!”

Recovering, you smirk, helping yourself to some steak. “Bring it! You know I love a good challenge!”

“Oho? My, someone’s cocky.”

“I wouldn’t be your granddaughter, either way.”

You two laughed at that, dinner coming to a finish as your grandfather happily ate the last of the steak. Eyeing the leftovers, you delighted at the thought of tomorrow’s lunch.

Just as you were to clean up, your grandfather asked a question: “By the way, how is the young Bakugou boy?”

(Name) – 4, Shihan – 4.

You stopped at that, hands freezing in the air, feeling your grandfather’s stare on you.

“Dunno.” Came your reply, hands found themselves resuming their work. “Don’t care.”

He watched in silence as you arranged the empty plates, bowls, and chopsticks. “Still not in speaking terms, eh?”

“Yep.”

Your grandfather didn’t have to ask to know that something changed between the three of you, especially with you and Bakugou. What you two had was not something so easy to forget, especially when both of you had been so close. Since then, his name had been taboo in the house.

“He goes to UA with Izuku, right?”

At the mention, you feel the tension seeping away slightly, mouth fixed in a straight line. “Yeah…”

“Are they in speaking terms?”

That made you scoff, fixing your grandfather a dubious look. “Civil, to say the least. Izuku’s not a brute, not like that other one.”

The animosity was clear in your tone as you talked about the other boy, like a bitter pill. Strong arms, decorated in scars and tattoos, crossed against his chest, displeased yellow eyes fixed on you.

“Has he tried talking to you?”

Shrugging with one shoulder, you turned to a lone rice on the table, flicking it without care. “He has, but they’re pretty half-assed.”

“What makes you say that?” to which, he received another shrug from you, mouth twisted into a twisted pout.

Consciously, you reached for your mark, rubbing at it with your fingers. “Some things are better left unsaid, the same way that some things buried should never be unearthed. It’s better off that way.”

His eyes never left your form, taking in your slouch, the look on your face, the sadness in your eyes. “Are you talking about yourself? Because that’s a rather selfish line of thinking, don’t you think?” Shifting, he slowly stood from the table, you watched him stand and met his gaze, offering you a sad look. “In a way, aren’t you being half-assed, yourself?”

Winner: Shihan, Loser: (Name).

masterlist • six

[lustbile-archive]

Want To Request a Song?

JohnnyxReader

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary/Warning: the third installment of the club x series. Full on public sex and exhibitionism, knife/blood play, and can border on being degrading so read at your own risk. This is also the one best at explaining what tf is going on in club x

Apart of my Club X series: Masterlist

You knew what Club X was way before you even walked through its doors.

A friend of a friend let the details of the gritty part of town spill from her lips when you had gotten together to have drinks and trade gossip in the safety of her apartment. You were equally as guilty of letting your lips loosen from the alcohol swimming in your veins, and you let this girl you knew very little about in on your secret that it had been a while since you had last gotten any. An even longer time since anyone had made you properly come. Why you let her in on such intimate details about your sex life was a mystery, but the advice she shared in response didn’t hurt in the slightest.

“There’s this club you know,” she had said, in a tone that was meant to be a whisper but fell a little short. Her nails that were decorated in chipping polish brushed comfortingly across your shoulder as she wiggled her eyebrows at you, “i’ve only been a few times, but it’s where you need to go if you’re in a desperate need for a fucking.”

You giggled at her choice words, your eyes rolling in disbelief, “so a sex club hm? I don’t know about that.”

“No, no, no,” her words slurred as she returned your laughter, clearly pleased with your doubt, “it’s better than just a sex club. See, you go and it’s like the universe creates the exact person you need right when you walk in.”

“The universe hm?”

“Yeaaaahh. The universe…” her eyes squint as her thoughts drift off momentarily, “like you walk in and they just find you. They find you and it’s like they put this spell on you. It makes you so hot like instantly, and then you’re down to business right then and there.”

“Right then and there?!” you have to admit that you’re humoring her at this point, but you’re still a little scandalized at her words, “like in front of everyone?”

“No! No, no, no,” her hands wave in front of her face like she’s swatting at an invisible bug, “I mean yeah, but it’s like they can’t even see you.”

“What they just ignore the two people just having full on sex in the middle of a club?”

“Yeah, I mean unless you want to be seen,” she explains, her face screwing up in confusion when you don’t seem to understand what she’s saying, “Listen, I can’t explain it the way they do. There’s just something that these people can do that just takes away every worry you have. You’re just there and in the moment. It’s so great you’ll just have to go or you’ll never understand.”

You humor her and let her write the address down in your phone, smiling fondly when she keeps your phone a little longer to add vulgar emojis along side the information.

And for a while that was it. The address remained in your phone, forgotten as it got buried underneath grocery lists and reminders that made little to no sense out of context. All it took for you to finally pay the club a visit was one night.

You found yourself bored out of your mind and far too horny for your own good. You were too frustrated and pissed off at the world to give yourself the satisfaction of masturbating, so instead you just sat on your phone, cleaning out your photos and notepad when you stumbled on the address paired with its mess of emojis.

Without any further thought you were up, getting ready, and calling an uber to take you to the address provided by the bubbly drunk girl. You tried to ignore the wary and judgmental glare from the driver as you pulled up on an old warehouse that was decorated with blaring red neon lights that only read “Club X: Enter at Your Own Risk.”

To say that night was a fluke was an understatement. People approached you of course, but there was no magical hypnosis that you were promised, not that you were really expecting it to actually happen. There were cute people, but no one that cut at your core enough to dull your irritation at the world. Instead you sipped at a drink someone else had graciously paid for, ogled at the pretty man working the DJ booth surrounded by his friends, and then caught another uber home with the personal promise that that would be your first, and last visit to Club X.

Well you told yourself that at least.

It was only about a week later that you found yourself pulling out an outfit and opening your uber app. You chalked it up to needing a good drink, but there was a confused nagging in the back of your mind that told you that you had no good reason for actually returning.

With a different uber driver, but a similar glare, you found yourself back at the dingy club. You sat in the same seat as before, had a new pretty face order you the same drink, as you found your glance being pulled back to the same cute DJ.

You felt some shame finding him so cute. He seemed out of place in the club. Most people here were dressed in party clothes, while he wore neutral toned hoodies, and this time a hat turned backwards. His headphone only left his ears a handful of times so he could laugh and jeer with the men that surrounded him almost like permanent ornaments. Truthfully he was handsome as hell, but other than that what was there to stare at?

You left that night with that thought pulling at your mind, and you returned multiple times after with the same thought nagging you every time.

You were becoming a regular at the club, as embarrassing as it was. Even though you had yet to experience any wild sexual magic like you had been drunkenly promised, it was like the first night your drink was spiked with a magnet that pulled you towards the building almost every weekend at this point. You hadn’t told the girl that had given you the address, and you definitely didn’t tell any of your friends. You just didn’t want them to believe that you were developing an unhealthy dependency on alcohol, even though you would never even finish one glass. And maybe if you were getting shit faced, you would understand why you kept returning, but every time you’d leave so sober that you could convince someone you hadn’t drank at all.

The first few times, you scrambled for an explanation for why you couldn’t stay away, but you always feel short. It was as if your own body was keeping a secret from your mind. It was beginning to be muscle memory they way you’d get dressed and call for an uber every time.

And you’d think with how much time you’d spent at the crowded club, watching random strangers create masses of sexual energy, you’d had seen everything, but you stiffen in confusion when you see it.

A pretty girl hopped up to the dj booth, her wild hair bouncing along with her, as the girl she was making out with only moments before giggled and squirmed in her seat. The look the DJ wears is disinterested, but aware when she leans her hands down on his table to start spilling hiccuped words in his face.

You can only see her mouth moving at a rapid pace, the music and the distance between you making her words impossible to hear. Whatever she asked prompts a gentle nod from the man, and as she prances away he moves his fingers across the knobs and switches until a new song starts to spill out of the speakers tucked into various corners of the room.

Did she request a song change? The questions runs through your mind as your eyes trace her form, your eyes only darting away when she tackles the other girl and shoves her tongue into the space of her mouth.

You had never seen someone request a song from the man, the closest thing maybe being a jab to the back from one of his friends that was a consistent character as he casually suggested something. Realistically, requesting a certain song isn’t incredibly weird, but something about the knowledge that the tall broad man standing on the platform that placed him so highly above the other bodies in the room is actually approachable was frying the nerves in your brain.

A few songs come and go by the time you’re standing up, your legs feeling as if they’re moving on their own. You’re not sure at what point between learning that you were allowed to walk up to him and you actually starting to walk towards him that you decided that you needed to get close, but the time you’re regaining your consciousness, you’re climbing the small set of stairs leading up the stage.

He seems to notice your presence before you reach him, as while you're still a bit away, his head lifts to lock his eyes onto yours. The way he smiles at you makes you stop momentarily and hesitate, one corner of his lips rises higher than the other gives his face a less than good intentioned aura. Instead of making you falter and turn back to return to the drink you had abandoned at the bar, you feel your stomach warm and turn as you pick up your steps.

Your hips bump into the edge of the table as you lean your palms flat on the top, your nails gently digging into the material as you try to form a sentence in your head. Your tongue rolls against your teeth and your lips part before he’s looking down again, but interrupting you with his own words.

“It’s about time you came up here,” he adds a dry laugh when he hears the confused noise that jumps from your chest. He ignores the quiet ‘hm?’ you offer in response before he continues, “I mean I would have made a move first but I can’t really leave my station y’know?”

He shrugs as he returns his eyes to you, clearly entertained by your confusion. Your eyes dart around his face, momentarily moving to glance at the boys that are scattered behind him either holding their own conversations or watching you two in amusement. When you look at him, he looks expectant.

One of the boys jeers at him saying, ‘fuck off John, you know they don’t know what you’re talking about.’ And even though the comment only adds to your confusion, you can’t stop the way your body warms at the spike of embarrassment it puts in you, the man in front of you only responding to the remark by digging his tongue into the inside of his cheek in irritation.

“You came here looking for trouble didn’t you?” it takes you a beat to realize he’s asking you, another moment to realize the question is meant to be suggestive, and one last one to form a response.

“I think I might be,” you feel yourself dumbly nod, as your chest gets fuzzy. Maybe this is when you finally get to experience what that girl had promised so many weeks ago. Could the dj have been your person this whole time?

“Ah ah,” he shakes his head almost disappointedly, “I need a solid yes before I can give you what you need baby. You should know that much at least.”

“I- I mean, okay,” consent you understood, but the way he says it makes your brain swim in confusion. Why wouldn’t you say yes?

“Yes. I’m looking for trouble,” you say, your own confidence finally finding its way into your words, “I’m looking to cause trouble with you.”

The smile he wears is evil, and absolutely giddy with your return of energy. He takes a few steps back from the table and gestures to his side saying, “then please, enter my office.”

You feel a jolt of energy hit you, before you’re rounding the corner of the table. You only have a second to register the sharp pain of where your hip bumped into the corner, before he’s wrapping his large hand around the back of your neck and pulling you to press his mouth against yours.

His warm breath could have been considered an aphrodisiac in the way it fills your mouth and warms your core. His other hand wraps around your waist as he backs you into the table, his hands and lips so suddenly on you is overwhelming, but not enough to distract you from the way his friends begin to start oohing at the spectacle you two put on.

What had that girl said? No one can see you unless you want them to? With the handful of boys surrounding you, you can’t help but to doubt that you can just make yourself vanish from their prying eyes, but even if you could, would you want to? You feel warm in shame, as while his tongue dips behind your teeth and explore the space of your mouth, you start to feel excited at the idea of all his friends watching you get the relief you had been craving for so long.

The moment your subconscious decided you want the boys to see you in such a vulnerable state, one of them lets out a scandalized and excited yelp, before turning to another and exclaiming, “oh shit they want us to see them. Look at that.”

The boys attached to your mouth smiles as he pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, a warm laugh filling the air between you, “hmm so bad aren’t you? You like to be watched?”

You whine in response, as your hands move to claw at his soft t-shirt. Your hips jump and knock into his when his fingers start to grope and squeeze at your flesh. You’re acutely aware at the way he presses his leg between yours and uses his hand to make you start grinding on his thigh.

“How ‘bout you give them a real show and bend over nice a pretty for us,” it’s not a question, but a demand as he lifts you slightly away from the table, and turns you to push your torso down flat. You try to take deep breaths, as his hands run up and down your sides until the tips of his fingers pinch the hem of your skirt.

“There we go,” he sounds overtly proud, when he flips the fabric up to lay against your back, his friends responding to the newly exposed flesh of your ass with appreciative whistles.

He steps to the side of you, his hands slipping between your hips and the table to lift them up. He uses his grip to move you side to side, shamelessly encouraging you to tauntingly move your hips for the many sets of eyes. If it wasn’t for the way your walls softly clench around nothing, you would be ashamed of the way being watched like this makes you drip.

He begins to drag the thin fabric of your underwear down, to tease not only you, but your engaged viewers. Once the fabric hits the floor, there’s a chorus of hisses and groans at the sight of you wet and excited.

You whimper at the feeling of so many eyes tracing your body, even louder when the man grabs onto the flesh of your ass to spread you for them all to see. You don’t know what comes over you when you petulantly kick the floor and let out a demanding ‘please.’

The only response you get in return is his hand running against you to check the severity of your arousal and the jeers from the boys of how, ‘Johnny got a bratty one.’

If it weren’t for the blaring music, you’d hear the metallic sound of his zipper being pulled down, the only thing you get as a warning that he had pulled himself from the restraints of his underwear, is when the leaking tip of his cock begins to dip into you.

You feel the tense strain on your muscles melt away as he presses into you. The size of him stretching you out makes you feel delirious as you’re thankful for the amount he’s managed to make you wet in such a short amount of time, as if he hadn’t you’re not sure he’d be able to fit so easily.

When his hips finally press tightly against you, he lets out a rumbled groan. His hands hold tightly to your hips as he pauses to give you both time to adjust, and you can only somewhat hear the shuffling of the others as they move in an attempt to get a better angle to watch.

His thrusts are lazy and deep as he moves against you, one hand leaves your skin and the fabric of his shirt moves away telling you he’s lifting it in his own attempt to get a better look at where he fucks into you.

Your legs part farther as you begin to desperately shake, the way he digs into every nerve inside you makes you keen, but you want nothing more than to have him move harder.

“Please John,” you beg, trying to see how his name would taste in your mouth, your own hand moving back to wrap tightly around his wrist.

“Shut the fuck up,” you barely register the pain that burns through your skin from where his open palm meets the sensitive skin of you ass. His tone was harsh, but the satisfied chuckle that not only leaves him, but also his friends, makes a dopey grin fill your face as a moan rolls off your tongue.

“Fuck look at how bad they want it,” the voice from your side tells you it’s someone else, the tone excited and bubbly as if they’re watching something a lot more innocent than a stranger get fucked in the middle of a club.

“So bad huh?” Johnny sounds almost proud at the way you and everyone reacts to the pleasure he’s giving you, “such a good little whore, taking everything I’ll give.”

Pleads and begs roll off your tongue as his harsh words fry your brain. His hips only quicken slightly before he’s grabbing your side to pull you up against him. It feels like a flash of time, when he grabs the hem of your shirt, and pulls it over your head. Once you're bare to the stuffy air of the club and your shirt is thrown carelessly over his shoulder, you're just as quickly shoved back onto the table and he’s pistoning fast and harshly into you.

His hand harshly meets you burning skin again and you squeak in response. His voice is rough as he puts all his strength into fucking you deep and he commands to no one in particular, “someone get it for me.”

His words mean nothing as the way he pulls against you starts pushing to the edge of your orgasm. You can only gasp and claw at the table when one of his friends leans closer and taps at your spine right between your shoulder blades and whatever he holds against you begins to cut into your skin.

Once his friend is moved away, he suddenly pulls out making you clench harshly and whine. You feel the trickle of blood that travels down your skin, but the sting of his warm tongue collecting the dripping red and digging into the new wound on your back. The sting is almost unbearable and makes you squirm against him, but the pain is muffled when he reaches down and begins to roll tight circles onto your neglected clit.

His fingers are unrelenting as he rushes you to your finish. The pleasure between your thighs mixing with the sharp pain against your back makes your vision begin to go fuzzy. You can only somewhat register the boyish laughs of excitement that surround you as you finally start to come.

It feels like there’s a monster inside you that claws at you nerves. Every inch of your body set on fire is so distracting, you can only yell into the air when he moves to push back into you. He thrusts only a few times before he stills against you, the warmth of him filling you making your overstimulated nerves scream.

You can only lie there as he starts to fix your clothes, harsh demands of ‘the show is over, go away’ begin thrown over his shoulder as he drags you away and back to the bar.

You sleepily lean against him as he nods at the stoic man handing out drinks. He brings you a glass of water, that Johnny presses against your chapped lips.

“You can come relax behind the booth while I work once you finish the glass,” he reassures as he pets at your damp skin, “the boys are a lot nicer than what you just witnessed I swear.”

You’re too dopey to truly register what he says as you only nod in response before babbling, “so you’re my person?”

The laugh he lets out is soft, a lot sweeter and warming that any he’d offered before, “yeah I’m your person, and you’re wild ass is mine.”

[monsoonblooms12]

Hey hey hey! These questions are different but hopefully fun!

Not Yet Wed Questions

Note: Great Scott! This week, we are going back in time to MC’s intern year. Think of Ethan’s relationship with them at this point and answer the following questions accordingly. It is entirely up to you when in year 1 this takes place (pre/post Miami, pre/post CH 15, etc). Feel free to answer with dialogue or pictures or both :) Have fun!

No worries. All of this is off the record and HR will never know!

The setting for this answers is:

For Both

When I first saw them, I thought__________

What is your coworker's most used swear word?

Quick: What color are their eyes?

Three people at work your coworker hates?

What is your coworker’s strangest or most endearing quirk?

If they had a crush on anyone at work, who would that be?

(Bonus round! Feel free to skip.)

Never have I Ever:

come into work hungover

had a fistfight

been kicked out of a bar

gotten a tattoo

broken someone’s heart

been in love

For MC (Ethan is not there)

Where do you see him in five years (both professionally and in his personal life?)

What do you find the most impressive about him?

Last thing he texted you?

If he asked you out on a date, what would you say?

For Ethan (MC is not there)

Where do you see him in five years (both professionally and in his personal life?)

What specifically do you find attractive about her?

Last thing she texted you?

If she asked you out on a date, how would you respond?

Bree, Thank you so much for this GENIUS round! A trip down the memory lane, when they just began falling for each other, it was such a beautiful and painful time for them as well as for me. I had a blast, and even though these answers are a pure mess, I had way too much fun answering them. Hope you like them too❤️!

The setting for this answers is: A week and a half after Ethan leaves the Hospital. Land(rat)ry and has been exposed, but Ethan doesn't know about that yet. Also, this is pre-chapter 15.

For Both

When I first saw them, I thought__________

Pooja: Who goes first?

(Silence)

Pooja:...Fine. I'll go first. The first time, all I could notice was his Doctor's Coat and the stern expression that he carried. It was my first day, I was running late, I had a patient who had collapsed in front of me. So obviously I was a bundle of nerves. And seeing a very strict attending really did not help. I was freaking out and kept repeating "Concentrate, Pooja, Concentrate" in my head.

Ethan: So when you saw me, you freaked out?

Pooja: Quite obviously so.

(After a pause) What did you think I would have thought? That you were handsome? (winks)

Ethan: (Caught by surprise) I- Uh- That's not...

(Centers himself with a deep breath) That would have been highly inappropriate.

Pooja: (Smiles in Satisfaction) Your turn, Doc. Or maybe, Ex-Doc, Right?

Ethan: (Ignoring her) I thought you were amateur. Better than most interns on their first days but still, slow and confused.

Pooja: And hence can the nickname "Rookie"?

Ethan: Yes, hence Rookie.

What is your coworker's most used swear word?

Ethan: I haven't heard her swear a lot, but the times I have, it's always either "Shit" or "Fuck".

Pooja: For him, it's mostly "Godammit" and on rare occasions, "Fuck". If he uses "Fuck" for an occasion, you know it's serious.

Quick: What color are their eyes?

(In unison, without missing a beat)

Pooja: Ice Blue

Ethan: Amber

(Ethan stares at Pooja, bewildered)

Pooja: What? (With a faux expression of sadness) Are you surprised that my observation skills actually exist?

Ethan: (He seems to regret his expression and tries straightens himself quickly) No, Of Course Not, I do not doubt your skills. (He smiles, but the surprise never leaves his features) It's just that no one ever-

(He looks at her, holding her gaze. They both seem unable look away... Until Ethan breaks eye contact and they concentrate back on the questions)

Three people at work your coworker hates?

Pooja: Can I name three people he doesn't hate? Possibly even that would be a large count.

Ethan: I don't hate anyone.

Pooja: Yaa, I know. You don't care about them enough to even have an opinion about them. Which is even worse than hatred, actually.

Ethan: (Rolls his eyes, but doesn't quite disagree) Dr Sharma and Hatred, on the other hand, is a combination I never have had the opportunity to observe.

Pooja: (A frown appears on her forehead and her jaw clenches tightly. She looks down, trying to control anger coursing through her body)

Ethan: (Looks at her with an eyebrow raised) Am I missing out on something?

Pooja: (Tries her best to keep her voice calm) Nope, nothing.

(Ethan notices that something is wrong, but decides not to push her further)

What is your coworker’s strangest or most endearing quirk?

Ethan: Dr Sharma, has a peculiar habit of always humming a song whenever she is writing or typing something. And every time, it's something different. I don't know about endearing, but it's definitely annoying.

Pooja: Please, you should be grateful that you have a walking, talking Spotify who supplies you with new music ad free and you don't even have to pay for premium.

Ethan: You think that you are hilarious, don't you?

Pooja: Oh, I AM hilarious (Rolls her eyes)

Ethan: (Laughs) You said that with an eye roll.

Pooja: And you laughed. So, Point Proved.

Ethan: (Shakes his head with the smile still on face)

Pooja: As for Dr Ramsey, whenever he has to deal with interns, he pulls out all the sarcasm he has, murmurs "Interns" with an annoyed sigh every time one of them begin to speak, and his intensity of rolling eyes increases by at least ten times. (Turning to Ethan) How did you like my description?

E: (Rolls his eyes) Accurate.

If they had a crush on anyone at work, who would that be?

Ethan: (Scoffs) Crushes... Juvenility at its best.

Pooja: (Opens her mouth to speak)

Ethan: Are you really going to answer the question? Because I am not.

Pooja: You do you and I do I.

(Begins to speak) I think Dr Ramsey has a crush on... (her voice cracks, and a sudden sadness overcome her once happy features. She is unable to complete the sentence and Ethan is unable to look at her)

Ethan: (After a long moment of silence, still not looking at Pooja) Can we please go to the next question?

Never have I Ever:

On the announcement of this round, Pooja brightens up a bit.

Never have I evers have always been one of her favourite games, so there was not a chance in hell she was going to skip the chance of learning about Ethan's secrets.

She turns to Ethan, who's turns to her and raises and eyebrow. His confused face is a precious scene and she cannot help but let out a giggle at it.

Ethan: And what is this now?

Pooja: I was going to ask if you have never watched those celebrity interviews but (she giggles) you and those, don't go together. At all

Ethan: Why would anyone want to answer stupid questions? And Why would someone want to watch them answer those?

Pooja: Because it's fun Dr Terminator. There is fun hidden in stupid things as such.

Ethan: (doesn't speak anything, but gives a small smile while thinking about her words)

Pooja: (takes the smile as a sign) So you are ready.

Ethan: When did I say so?

Pooja: You don't need to word your thoughts for me to know (gives him a smile)

(They hold each other's gaze for a while before Ethan coughs and turn away)

Pooja: (A tinge of sadness in her tone) Okay (coughs) So usually Never have I ever is a drinking game-

Ethan: A drinking game during office hours? (Raises an eyebrow)

Pooja: Says someone who doesn't even work at the office. (She looks at him once before continuing) But we are going to change it up a bit. Sienna, my friend has baked cupcakes today, so I thought why not use them instead? If the answer is yes, they don't get to take a bite from the cupcake. I it's no, then-

Ethan: You get a bite. You will always look for excuses to eat the pastries, won't you?

Pooja: See, you know me well.

(For a while, it seems as if Ethan regrets his statement, but soon he schools his features and any such indication is gone)

come into work hungover

Both Ethan & Pooja sit still, cupcakes intact.

Pooja: (Looks at him, amazed)

Ethan: (Raises an eyebrow)

Pooja: And here I was expecting a sarcastic remark about professionalism.

Ethan: We all have our days, Dr Sharma. Today's yours.

Pooja: It sure is (winks)

had a fistfight

Again, both of them sit still, no one making a move towards their cupcakes.

Pooja: But, it was back in high school, so...

(She moves to take a bite, when)

Ethan: Hey!

Pooja: What?

Ethan: You made the rules but that does not give you an allowance to break the rules.

Pooja: Look at you, getting all competitive over Never have I ever.

Ethan: Absolutely Not. I was just ensuring that the rules are being followed.

Pooja: Suure.

been kicked out of a bar

Both of them take a bite.

Pooja: Finally!

Ethan: (Rolls his eyes while trying to suppress a smile at the site of her getting all excited for a cupcake)

gotten a tattoo

Ethan takes a bite.

Pooja: I think you need to get one.

Ethan: Absolutely not.

Pooja: Don't worry I will let your significant other whenever they arrive, know that they have to make you get one.

(Even if said jokingly, the sentence fills the air with suffocating silence, that is only broken when the next question is asked)

broken someone’s heart

Pooja takes a bite. Ethan looks on.

Pooja: Dr Ramsey?

Ethan: Huh?

Pooja: Aren't you going to take a bite?

Ethan: (after a while) ...No. I am Not.

been in love

(Ethan goes to take a bite, just as...)

Pooja: Dr Ramsey?

Ethan: What is it?

Pooja: Look, I know it's against the rules, but can I pleaseee take a bite from your side?

Ethan: And why would I let you do that?

Pooja: Because A. You know I love cupcakes, B. You are my friend and C. Because I am asking you super sweetly. So, pleeaase? (She looks at him with puppy eyes)

Ethan: (After a momentary pause) ...Fine

Pooja: Thank you Dr Ramsey, You're the best Dr Ramsey-

Ethan: Do you stop or do I have to get a remote to shut you up?

(Pooja laughs, having succeeded in her mission. And before Ethan can stop himself, a smile breaks out on his face as well)

For MC (Ethan is not there)

Where do you see him in five years (both professionally and in his personal life?)

Professionally I see him coming back to medicine. Maybe Soon, Maybe Later. But I cannot imagine him living the rest of his life away from medicine. This is where he finds his calm. Amidst complex cases that challenge his genius. I also visualize him working on another book, or assisting WHO with its endeavors.

Personally (She pauses, takes a deep breath, and another, and another) I, uh... see him happy. Most probably not married, but in a relationship full of care and satisfaction. He may even start believing in love (laughs) I can't predict the future, but I hope that he finds someone worthy of him. Someone whom he can love without having to constantly worry of a mishap, without questioning all his principles, without retching a battle in his mind. Someone... who can return his care and affection in ten folds (a tear escapes out of the corner of her eye, but she wipes it off as quickly as she can)

What do you find the most impressive about him?

Impressive about him? Everything. But especially the kind of doctor he is. For someone who's so genius, it is commonly thought that he would look down on others, berate others on the basis of his excellence and his achievements, be arrogant and rude. But, he is an entire opposite.

Humble, caring, compassionate. Yes, maybe he gives interns an earful from time to time, but he never demotivates them. He is a great teacher, one who knows to keep his feelings apart from his work. To him everyone is equal, even if people suspect him of favoritism. His care and concern for his patients, it's an inspiration for me.

Last thing he texted you?

I...haven't really got any recent texts (or replies, she mumbles) from him. The last one he sent was the day we got back from Miami after the medical conference, which says, "Let me know when you get home safe, okay?"

If he asked you out on a date, what would you say?

(A small, humorless laugh) He wouldn't ask me out. Definitely not in this life. I am sure he regrets what happened- (Sighs)

I am too complicated of a case for him to pursue.

But, if, in a hypothetical, like, really hypothetical situation, he did ask me, I would say yes. In a heartbeat, to be exact.

For Ethan (MC is not there)

Where do you see her in five years (both professionally and in her personal life?)

Rookie, I mean Dr Sharma, has impeccable talent. And she has more than proved herself during the time I was at the hospital. If she strives hard, and keeps up her hard work, I am sure she can achieve all she wants to. Maybe even restart the Diagnostics Team as a leader. I know she has a bright career in front of her, and as her mentor, I will help her achieve it in every way I can.

Bree: And personally?

Uh... Happy. She will definitely be happy, with someone who can make her smile her dazzling smile, who can give her the best life she deserves, and stand with her through thick and thin. Someone who doesn't break her heart due to their own... flaws. Someone,

Someone who can love her.

What specifically do you find attractive about her?

Ethan: Attractive? She is my intern, why would you expect me to make a statement as such?

Bree: So you don't think she is attractive?

Ethan: Of course I do. She has a sparkle in her eyes, the passion for medicine evident. The way she smiles when she talks to patients, the way she reassures them, how-

(He stops on his track. Regrets his words. Pinching the bridge of his nose he signals to go onto the next question)

Last thing she texted you?

"You know you can just tell me if you don't want me to text you. It would hurt, but this silence, the feeling of shouting into a void, it hurts more."

(He doesn't expand on it. Just sits for a while, looking at the cell phone, before turning it off and placing it aside)

If she asked you out on a date, how would you respond?

Ethan: She Wouldn't... Not after what I- (he sighs)

Maybe in another life, if I am lucky enough, I would say yes. But now....

It's a risk. And I can say from experience that it would not end well. The harm it may cause, the hurt I may cause...

She doesn't deserve it.

Bree: But there are no more professional complications now that you have quit, Dr Ramsey. Then why do you feel as such?

Ethan: It's about personal complications.

----

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