#i told him not to expect it very often right now and he was like ‘no i know. it’s just good to hear it. it’s been days

[majoryeager104]

I know we can’t say what we mean

Part 2 of Number one Girl in your eyes

Katsuki Bakugo x Reader

Summary: Now that the cats out of the bag, you try to get closer to Katsuki, despite the fact that he seems to be avoiding you. But, his behavior is way less petty than it seems

Warnings: language

1.1k Word Count

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After last night, you weren’t entirely sure what to do. You’d confessed. You’d told him you liked him, and he said it back. He liked you back. And yet, he left right afterwards, not saying another word. Anyone else would be confused, but who am I kidding? It’s Katsuki. So instead of worrying, you called Mina up and told her everything. But as time ticked by, you wondered if letting him leave was the right choice, but really, you were just happy to have that confession off your chest. 

Meanwhile, Katsuki was panicking. Why had he done that? Were you serious? Why had he done that? Surely it was a prank. And the whole way down the hallway, to the elevator back down to the common room? The only thing he was thinking? Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit-

But while he ranted to Kirishima for the rest of the night, you slept like a baby. You’d finally told him, and realized you were content with that. Surely, since he’d admitted his crush too, that the two of you would talk about it later, right?

Wrong. 

Because who am I kidding? It’s Katsuki.

You walked to class the next morning refreshed and happy- excited even, after all who wouldn’t be in this situation? You walked in, your eyes absentmindedly landing on Katsuki. You always gave him a quick glance when you were walking into class, it was a habit at this point… only this time he was looking back.

You blushed and waved, and, to your confusion and dismay, he narrowed his eyes and looked away, crossing his arms on his desk. You frowned, but figured he was probably a little embarrassed about it, and dismissed his behavior, and yet your eyes still lingered on him, the moment sticking in your mind.

And he noticed. Oh boy he noticed the frown. And once again, Katsuki Bakugo was in a state of pure panic. Why did I glare at her? Why couldn’t I just wave back? What kind of an asshole-

His thoughts were interrupted by Mr. Aizawa’s entrance, and he did his very best to focus on class after that, he really did. But he felt terrible. What kind of guy confesses to the girl he likes, and then leaves? What kind of guy then glares at her when he sees her the next day? God he felt so stupid.

After class, it was only a matter of time before you began to be anxious. He seemed to be avoiding you, and it confused you to no end. He did say he liked you back right? You weren’t dreaming? So then why was this all so…awkward?

It took till late that evening for you to really get an answer. You’d decided to take a walk around campus before heading back to your dorm, when you saw you-know-who (no reader, not Voldemort) doing the exact same thing. He was walking in the opposite direction, on the same strip of sidewalk, Katsuki Bakugo in his messed up tie, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. 

At first, when he spotted you, he’d made an attempt to look away and ignore you, walking past like you weren’t there like he usually did. It was a simple tactic that he didn’t realize he used fairly often to avoid people. One small issue is that you literally did not care.

“Hey Bakugo, can we talk for a minute?”

He froze, his already tense shoulders flinching slightly as he turned to look at you, but he managed to play off his anxiety as annoyance fairly well, as he always did. “What do you want?” He said bluntly, glaring back at you. You stared at him for a moment- after last night, you hadn’t really expected him to be this…snappy. You took a deep breath, sighing as you spoke.

“A straight answer” you replied, making the boys brow furrow even more. “Huh?” He replied, glancing away a few times, anything to avoid facing the music. “I mean it’s my turn to ask you…what’s wrong?” You replied, walking a tad bit closer to him. As expected, he backed away from you, scoffing. “Nothings wrong. Leave me alone” he replied, about to turn when you grabbed his hand.

He completely froze, his head slowly turning to look down at your hand on his, the way you held it so gently, it stuck with him. You knew that if he was mad at you he could probably rip it away from you in less than a second, but your grip was gentle anyways. Maybe it was because you didn’t want to make him more upset. Or maybe it was because you knew he wouldn’t pull away, wouldn’t stop you. You were right.

“I confessed to you last night, Ba- Katsuki. And you said you liked me too. Now are you gonna keep being an asshole, or are you gonna be a normal person and invite me on a date?”

Your words hit his ears louder than any of his explosions could- they rang and rang until eventually he finally looked up at you. His mind was full of so many anxieties and nerves that he couldn’t really tell which thoughts were his own, or were a figment of his fear anymore. He was so scared of making you hate him that it was driving him crazy. 

He pulled his hand away slowly, staring at yours for a moment before straightening up and looking at you, letting out a sigh. “Y/n L/n… will you… can… this is stupid-” he stopped, shaking his head and about to turn around before you grabbed his hand again. “no you’ve got it, keep going” you replied, and damn it, he’d think, you cheering him on wasn’t helping. Now he was a blushing mess, and had absolutely no idea what to say, so instead of acting like it, he just acted like he usually did.

“Damn it- Just go out with me!….please”

His words hung in the air, his gaze pleading with yours until you finally smiled at him. “Yeah, i’d love to” you said softly, still holding his hand. You weren’t really thinking about the touch, too happy in the moment, but he certainly was. He had to look away and turn from you entirely to hide his blush, and even then you could still see the pink tinge on his ears.

“K..whatever. See ya"

He began to walk away, his hands stuffed in his pockets once more. 

“Katsuki?”

Once again, his shoulders tense

“What”

“Don’t you want my number so we can plan the date?”

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For the record, he was locked in for every other date after this. Pookies still learning.

Tags: @mikestuffffs @ilovemushroomss @misfortvne @blue-sky336

[hishumanbelle]

All I want is for Alastor to like the reader 🙏 and for him to blush at the smallest thing or get even goofier! I really can't find things like this, and even when I do, it's so hard

(Alastor's behavior doesn't have to be as I mentioned, just silly)

You didn't think much of it at first. It was just an offhanded compliment, something casual. You were both sitting in the lounge of the Hazbin Hotel, and Alastor had been talking—well, monologuing—about some old radio show he used to love. His voice was full of that usual eerie cheer, smooth and rich with old-timey charisma.

“You have a really nice voice, you know that?” you said absentmindedly, sipping your drink.

The moment the words left your mouth, the room shifted. The ever-present hum of Alastor’s static stuttered, cut out entirely—like a record player yanked off its track. You glanced up to find him staring at you, his grin frozen, his red eyes wide as if you’d just told him the most scandalous secret in all of Hell.

“Oh—” he let out a single, clipped chuckle, then slapped a hand over his mouth so fast you barely registered the movement.

You raised an eyebrow. “You okay?”

“I—! Oh, HA!” the laugh that followed was too loud, too forced. He practically threw himself into it, tilting his head back dramatically, but you caught it—the twitch of his ears, the way his fingers fumbled against his cane.

And… was he blushing?

Oh.

Oh, this was golden.

“You like being complimented, don’t you?” you teased, leaning in just a bit.

Alastor’s entire body stiffened. “Hah! Preposterous!”, his voice cracked ever so slightly, and his shadow flickered—its edges fraying like it was trying to retreat. “Why, I—oh dear, would you look at the time!” he yanked a pocket watch from nowhere, squinting at it with exaggerated scrutiny. “Yes, yes! Time for me to be—anywhere else!”

He practically teleported across the room, straightening his tie with far too much focus. But even from there, you could still see the red dusting his cheeks.

“You’re flustered.”

“HA! I do not get flustered!” his grin was too wide now, his hands too twitchy. The air itself crackled with restless energy, like a radio struggling to tune in.

You smirked. “So if I said I liked your smile too…?”

Pop.

His shadow completely short-circuited—tendrils recoiling, curling in on themselves like dying antennae. His ears flicked violently, and for a split second, his entire face went redder than his eyes.

Then—

BAM!—he hit the floor.

Just collapsed, legs giving out as he wheezed through gritted teeth.

You stared. “…Alastor?”

“…Damn it.” His voice was barely above a whisper, forehead pressed against the carpet as his shadow flailed helplessly around him.

You had never, ever seen him look so defeated.

And you were absolutely going to use this against him.

You had expected Alastor to recover quickly. After all, he was a smooth talker, always on top of things, never truly caught off guard.

But no.

It had been days since you had called his voice nice, and he was still acting weird about it.

For example, right now: you were in the kitchen, just trying to make yourself something to eat, when Alastor appeared out of nowhere, as he often did.

“Ah, darling, you must let me handle that! A delicate thing like yourself shouldn’t trouble those lovely hands with such menial labor!” he reached for the knife you were using to cut vegetables, practically tripping over himself in the process.

You pulled it away. “Alastor, I am literally just making a sandwich.”

“Ah-ah-ah! That’s where the trouble starts! First, it’s a sandwich—then suddenly, you’re engaging in the culinary arts, and before you know it, you’re—you're—!” he hesitated, waving his hands wildly like the very thought was too much to handle. “Burning down the whole hotel!”

You narrowed your eyes. “Are you saying I can’t cook?”

“No, no, not at all! I simply wouldn’t dream of letting you lift a finger when I could do it for you!” his grin twitched—too wide, too forced. “Why, I—ah—!”

You placed a hand on his wrist.

Just lightly. Just to push him away so you could finish your damn sandwich.

And that was all it took.

Alastor froze. Completely. His grin went rigid, his pupils shrinking, his whole body locking up like someone had yanked his power cord straight out of the wall.

You blinked. “Uh. Alastor?”

Silence.

Then—

Bzzt.

A short burst of static popped in the air. The room dimmed. The radio in the corner hissed. And then—

“Oh, DEAR—”

Alastor all but flung himself backwards, twisting his body so abruptly that he nearly knocked over an entire chair. His shadow—his ever-present, eerie, independent shadow—actually fled the room without him, slithering away like it wanted nothing to do with this.

You stared. “Did you just—?”

“I REMEMBER I HAVE SOMEWHERE TO BE!” he bellowed, voice cracking as he smacked his cane against the floor. “SOMETHING! VERY! IMPORTANT!”

“Uh-huh.” You crossed your arms, watching him scramble. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I HAVE NEVER BEEN MORE OKAY IN MY ENTIRE LIFE!” his ears twitched violently, and then, before you could say anything else, he vanished. Just—gone. Poof.

Silence fell over the kitchen.

You sighed, shaking your head, before taking a bite of your sandwich.

Yeah. You were definitely going to have fun with this.

You had already established that Alastor did not handle affection well. Or rather, he handled it about as well as a radio with a frayed wire—lots of static, sparks, and the occasional dramatic system failure.

Which is exactly why you decided to push it.

Just a little.

For science.

So here you were, leaning against the lobby counter, watching Alastor chatter away to Charlie about something. You weren’t really listening—not because it wasn’t interesting, but because you were too busy planning your next move.

You had complimented him. You had touched him.

But you had never done both at the same time.

Until now.

“Alastor,” you interrupted smoothly, stepping closer.

His attention snapped to you immediately, and oh—perfect. His ears were already twitching, his grip tightening ever so slightly around his cane.

“Yes?” his grin was steady, but his voice—just the faintest bit strained.

You hummed, pretending to consider something. Then, before he could say anything else, you reached up and placed your hand gently against his cheek.

The effect was instantaneous.

His entire body locked up, his spine going ramrod straight like a puppet whose strings had just been yanked. The moment your fingers made contact, a deep buzzing filled the air—his own radio frequencies betraying him as static crackled wildly around you both.

You leaned in slightly, looking up at him with the sweetest smile you could manage.

“You really are quite handsome, you know,” you mused.

BZZZZT.

Oh.

Oh, that one might have fried him completely.

Alastor stopped breathing. His eyes—normally sharp, always brimming with mischief—went completely blank. The static around him peaked, the air distorting like an overloading signal. His hand twitched at his side, and then—

“Oh NO.”

That was all he managed before his legs gave out entirely, sending him CRASHING to the floor with a dramatic thud.

Charlie screamed. “OH MY DAD, DID YOU KILL HIM?!”

“I—” You blinked, looking down at him.

He was flat on his back, completely sprawled out, one hand clutching his chest like you had just sniped him straight through the heart. His ears were flicking wildly, his shadow writhing on the walls like it was experiencing second-hand embarrassment.

Then, finally—his mouth opened, and he let out the most broken, wheezing laugh.

“HAHA! Ohhh, dear me—” his voice was weak, pathetic, like a dying radio host gasping out his final words. “I—I’ve been bested! What a cruel, cruel fate!”

Charlie looked horrified. “WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?!”

You shrugged. “I just called him handsome.”

Charlie gaped at you, then down at Alastor—who was still collapsed like some kind of tragic Victorian widow, his fingers trembling against his chest.

“Ohhh, the humanity,” he crooned, his face still red as hell. “The sheer, unbearable agony of it all!”

You crouched down beside him, resting your chin in your hand. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Oh, am I?” he cracked one eye open, still refusing to move from his self-imposed exile on the floor. “Tell me, darling, how am I meant to react when you so brazenly deliver a fatal blow to my very existence?”

“… You just fell over.”

“I was struck down by love’s cruel hand!”

Charlie groaned, running a hand down her face. “I can’t deal with this.” She turned on her heel and walked out of the room.

You, however, stayed put, watching as Alastor’s ears twitched violently the longer you stared at him.

Slowly, carefully, you leaned in just a bit more.

“You really are handsome, though,” you murmured, just for good measure.

Alastor made a garbled noise—like an old radio short-circuiting—before disappearing entirely, his static bursting into the air like a dying transmission.

… Gone.

You sat back with a smug little smile.

Yeah. This was way too much fun.

\\ I thought about this too last night. //

Alastor prided himself on his composure. He had faced eldritch horrors, orchestrated the demise of powerful demons, and smiled through it all like a well-rehearsed showman. Nothing rattled him. Nothing made his grin falter.

Until you.

You, with your impossible ability to throw him off balance. You, with your warm laughter that sent an unfamiliar sensation crawling up his spine. You, who were currently standing too close—far too close—as you adjusted his tie with the gentlest touch imaginable.

“Honestly, Alastor, how do you manage to mess this up?” you teased, tugging lightly at the knot.

“I—I most certainly did not mess it up!” he protested, his voice a notch higher than usual. “It was a stylistic choice! A statement of chaotic fashion!”

You raised an eyebrow. “So having it completely lopsided was intentional?”

Alastor’s mouth opened, then closed. Then opened again. A rare silence followed.

Oh.

Oh, this was terrible. He never lost his words. But as you straightened his tie, your fingers grazing his collarbone, something warm and foreign spread across his face. He felt it in his ears first, then his cheeks.

Heat.

Oh, for the love of the airwaves—was he blushing?

His hands twitched, unsure what to do with themselves, so he awkwardly clasped them behind his back, rocking slightly on his heels. He had to regain control of the situation.

With a dramatic wave of his hand, he burst into song.

“♪ My tie was fine, but you made it divine, and now I—oh dear, my dear, I think I might die! ♪”

You burst into laughter, shaking your head. “Alastor, what was that?”

“A completely normal reaction!” he declared, twirling away from you. But as he turned, his foot caught on the edge of a rug.

There was a pause. A moment of realization.

And then—

THUMP.

Alastor, the terrifying Radio Demon, master of manipulation and chaos, was now sprawled on the floor, limbs tangled, staring at the ceiling in stunned disbelief.

You gasped before bursting into uncontrollable laughter. “Oh my Lord, are you okay?!”

Alastor shot up immediately, hands adjusting his coat as if nothing had happened. “Of course I’m okay! That was—uh—an illusion! A grand trick to keep you entertained!”

You crossed your arms, still giggling. “You tripped.”

“I did not trip!” he pointed a finger at you, his face still flushed. “You—You’re imagining things! You must have been dazzled by my impeccable charm and lost track of reality!”

You smirked. “So you’re saying I make you lose control?”

Alastor’s mouth opened again—before he immediately clamped it shut, red creeping up his face once more. His ears twitched violently as he let out a short, nervous chuckle.

“Oh, would you look at that!” he blurted, gesturing wildly to nowhere in particular. “The weather today! Isn’t it just swell?!”

You stepped closer, peering at him. “Alastor. You’re flustered.”

“I most certainly am not!”

“You’re blushing.”

“I’m just radiating warmth!”

“Mhm.” You grinned. “Adorable.”

Alastor choked. Actually choked.

Then, with an over-the-top, dramatic twirl, he practically phased through the nearest wall, his voice trailing behind him.

“I HAVE A VERY IMPORTANT RADIO BROADCAST TO ATTEND TO, GOODBYE FOREVER—”

You covered your mouth, shaking with laughter. Oh, you were never letting him live this down.

[radioiaci]

Alastor fell silent as Michael seemed to be caught somewhere in his thoughts. Uncertain as to what answer he was going to be provided with, what Michael eventually did say... did not surprise him. And Michael was still not wrong. Expectations did stress him out. But it was not a matter of not wanting to meet them. Often, it was the concern and fear of what if he did not.

But at the same time...

He seemed to mull over the other's words too, ensuring that he did not offer a snap judgment or response. Instead, one of his hands drifted upwards to lightly card through the other's hair. Always appreciative of it. Eyeing him still with clear fondness.

"...I would be a hypocrite if I forbid you from wanting things, Michael," he finally said, his voice a steady, but low murmur. "When I told you that... Well, it was not entirely untrue. And I still have my doubts - like... a few moments ago. But you are not meant to be robotic and stagnant. You are a being with desires and needs. And in spite of my own trepidation... I want to make an effort to meet them." Something something about the definition of courage. Being afraid any doing something anyway. He recalled reading that somewhere.

"...But even if it is not something that you want-" To spend the rest of his life with Alastor, that is. "...Maybe I do."

The last words were said in very near a whisper, certain that his face was red for the effort alone. And he gave a small exhale to steady his own nerves about it. Though he could not say whether that feeling was permanent or he was just swept up in a moment... It did not quite matter. It was what he felt. Right then and there.

Alastor leaned then, tucking his face against the other to spare himself the bruising to his ego.

"...Regardless, you have me. Now. In the future. However long you will have me." And he did what he could to crystallize that thought, that desire in his mind.

"My love is yours."

ㅤIt was a bit reassuring that Alastor was touching him again. Michael truly had not meant to upset him as much as he had with his poorly chosen words. No one ever said he had good beside manner though, there was a reason he did not volunteer at the hospital in Heaven.

ㅤHe takes the kisses as they're given, a small hum leaving him as he shouted a bit on top of Alastor. His gaze averts slightly at the question he's asked, a bit of worry gathering in his chest knowing how flighty Alastor can get when it comes to expectations. Just trying to ask him if he wanted to do this has resulted in a lot of stress between them. Marriage? That sounds like a disaster to talk about.

ㅤHe feels like there's a wrong answer to this and the idea of bringing that up was stressing him out too. What if Alastor gets upset that Michael is worried about talking about these things? That he assumes Alastor would freak out again?

ㅤBut what if it does? What if it upsets him because he thinks Michael has big expectations for them? Or what if it's the opposite and he hasn't even considered the idea of spending the rest of his life with Alastor? Would that upset him too that the expectations are set to low? Like he's not even worth considering the future with?

ㅤMichael took a breath and tried to lean back a little bit, keeping his gaze averted from Alastor's face as he tries to actually think his words through first this time. Something he has a habit of not doing and it ends him up in trouble. Often. Like a few minutes ago.

ㅤ"You don't… like when I add expectations to things. They stress you out." That constant fear of not giving enough in this or reaching those expectations. So Michael has really—just gone with the motions of all of this. As long as he had Alastor, with an understanding of what they were, he could go with the rest of it. Could take whatever he was given with, ran with it, and managed to find a way for them to move around each other.

ㅤ"As long as things continue the way they are, I'm alright with however it ends up going." Open ended, failure or success, no pressure. He was trying to find what made Alastor happy, since that was all he was ever concerned with. Ensuring the Radio Demon was content.

[goblinbabe666]

my brother just said “dude. it’s so good to hear you laughing again.” CRYING AND THROWING UP BRB.

[somnoir]

My father's secretary

Danny Fenton did not expect to be secretary material but after 7 years of being a hero and having Jazz as his elder sister, he was damn good at it. He needed a job, he knew that, and Wayne Enterprises was willing to hire a 21 year old taking online college classes for aerospace engineering.

And he was fucking thankful for that cause Mr. Wayne was pretty neat and bought him good food and coffee whenever he looked out of it. Half his family were already in Gotham with only his parents in Amity. They were finally reformed and now their research finally advocated for the rights of ghosts and spread awareness on their culture. Good for them.

Jazz and Dante were in Arkham working as a psychologist and guard. Elle was still in school, enrolled into Gotham Academy once Vlad insisted on paying her tuition. To be fair, he was paying for Danny's tuition too.

But back to his secretary duties. His boss was Bruce Wayne, yes, but he did often work with the man's son and the current CEO. Tim was nice and had the same caffeine addiction as him. (Jazz highly discouraged this friendship in case they both made a monstrosity of coffee and energy drinks.)

But Mr. Wayne was the best. He was rather clumsy and a bit airheaded but he was the best fucking boss he could ever ask for. The man's paternal instincts were on point and Danny was almost intimidated when the man started handing him extra cash whenever Danny came to the office looking more tired than usual. When that failed, Mr. Wayne resorted to giving him more material things.

Now, he doesn't want to take advantage of this ridiculously kind man with a lack of self preservation (God, was this what Jazz felt about him?). But Mr. Wayne had given him this amazing coffee maker and then proceeded to give Danny the best toaster ever. And Danny has always been known to resolutely be against Billionaires adopting him. But Mr. Wayne?

Danny had honed his back talking skills to perfection to talk down arrogant elites that kept demanding for his boss. He mastered his customer service voice and that condescending look he saw the receptionists give people like they were tantruming toddlers. Danny was ready to fight for that man (Vlad was choking somewhere as the Fentons worriedly look at him).

Jason has heard about Danny Fenton a couple of times. Tim, Dick, and Bruce had mentioned him a lot. Bruce's new secretary that looked like he'd woken up from a coma and was comparable to a grumpy cat on his best days. He's seen the guy a couple times, noticed how he was almost as tall as Jason. Honestly, he kinda looked like a twig (but then that was because of Danny's suit that he made sure didn't completely fit him).

Seriously. Danny was willing to fucking fight anyone and everyone for Bruce Wayne.

The guy was strange. Very strange. Especially when the pits seemed to either become frantic or calm whenever he was around. It depended on the situation really, but mostly the pits grew calmer around Fenton. Like a cat that finally saw its favorite person. It was so weird.

He was drawn to Fenton, sometimes finding himself walking towards the man before he snaps out of it.

It's on this day where Danny was by Bruce's side, a stylus and tablet in hand. He was furiously tapping away at his phone, cursing under his breath about bothersome and stuck up cialiteses.

"Jason!" Bruce happily greets, "Don't mind Danny for a bit. He's telling of some investors for trying to meddle with the company. Tim is too sleep deprived to handle it."

"Where is Tim?"

"Danny threatened to throw the company's coffee maker out the window if he doesn't take a nap." Bruce chuckles, glancing fondly at his fiesty secretary. "Danny?"

"Give me a minute, Mr. Wayne. Some people are trying to squeeze into your schedule when I specifically told them that they can't." Danny says, clearly irritated but looks at Bruce with an apologetic gaze. "No—Mr. Luthor, neither Mr. Drake nor Mr. Wayne are available on that day—"

And it dissolved into Danny telling of what Jason assumes was Lex Luthor to stop his attempts. In other words, corporate for Fuck off.

"He's good, isn't he?" Jason humms as he follows Bruce down the hall, glancing at the tired employees that looked utterly exhausted and horrifically motivated. "Looks like adoption bait."

"Unfortunately, Danny is a very much against Billionaires adopting him. His godfather is one and has attempted multiple times." Bruce sighs, feigning a sorrowful look as he sends Danny a small pout. "What did you do when he tried the fifth time again?"

"I blew up his car, Mr. Wayne." Danny nonchalantly says, "But that only made him want to adopt me more."

Jason blinks, baffled before he's laughing at the utter absurdity of the situation.

"That sounds similar to—"

Gunshots tore through the air as people immediately screamed. At the entrance of the building was the Joker in all his insanity, guns blazing. Jason froze, sucking in a deep breath as he took one step back. They weren't in costume, they weren't the Red Hood and Batman in that moment.

"Nightwing, Robin, and Spoiler are on their way." Oracle says through the comms but that doesn't comfort him in the slightest.

It's chaos in moments and people are ducking their heads to avoid the bullets. Jason and Bruce look right at each other, taking cover as bullets ruin the walls and furniture. But Bruce is dragged from his spot, pulled towards the Joker who laughs maniacally as he pressed a gun against Bruce's head.

"Mr. Wayne!" Many people yell as they all stared in horror as the Joker threatens Gotham's beloved prince.

Jason immediately remembers an explosion and a crowbar.

(Reminder, Danny Fenton was very much ready to go to war for Bruce Wayne).

A tablet and a stylus was suddenly shoved into his arms. Jason blinks, turning to Danny who tugs at his tie and rummages through the counter for something. The Joker sees this, clearly irritated.

"You! Eyes on me!" The Joker practically demands, hysterical that not everyone was paying attention.

Danny apparently doesn't give a damn before looking the Joker straight in the eye.

"Eyes in me." Danny repeats.

A second later something was thrown and a cutter was cutting through the Joker's eye.

Jason gaped at the seemingly harmless secretary, unable to comprehend that this man had just thrown a fucking cutter into the Joker's eye.

Bruce is set free.

Everyone is frozen in place.

Everyone watched as Bruce Wayne's tired and overworked secretary beats the shit out of the Joker, saying something about how he wasn't going to lose a good boss.

No one particularly knows what to do once Danny pulls out the cutter with the Jokers blood and... Fucking shit, was that his eyeball?!

Dick and Damian arrived at some point, also too shocked to do anything. When Danny was done and satisfied, with the Joker still alive, groaning and whimpering from the pain that Danny inflicted.

As if he hadn't almost killed the Joker, Danny turns to them with a tired smile.

"Mr. Wayne, I implore you not to die. I can't lose the best boss that I've had." He plainly says and takes the tablet and stylus back from Jason.

Jason thinks he might just marry this feral man.

Yeah.

Yeah, he was definitely going to marry Danny Fenton.

Part 2 | Masterpost

[cxffecoupx]

seungcheol's mad. the members know just how to calm him down.

"YN! yn! you need to come to the practice room right now. seungcheol's furious!"

that's all you need to know before you leave your office in the pretext of grabbing lunch and head towards seungcheol's company building. even in the crazy traffic of the afternoon, the only thing running in your mind is the image of your angry boyfriend, eyes wide and lips pouted in annoyance.

which is exactly what greets you when you reach the boys' usual dance practice room that seungkwan called you to. you push open the door and see a few of them sitting down, faces pale from exhaustion, a few scattered doing some random tasks, and jeonghan standing next to seungcheol, chewing on his lips.

but seungcheol doesn't notice anything: he doesn't notice the way chan gently tugs at his shirt; the way his teammates take tense, heavy breaths in worry; the way jeonghan now pats his back, and certainly not your arrival into the room. you sidle over to seungkwan, who's face melts into relief at seeing you. he pulls you aside to brief you about the situation.

"the thing is, last week, we were told that we could take tomorrow off. but then they came in a few minutes ago, saying that we'd have extra practice tomorrow, since they pushed the broadcast recording a week earlier," he takes a moment to pause and looks over at seungcheol, who's still very unaware of everything around him.

"hyung's losing his mind because we'd all made individual plans for tomorrow. some of us were gonna go home for the weekend..." seungkwan's lips turn into a pout as he becomes aware of the fact that now he won't be able to. you turn around to look at your boyfriend.

"i want you to tell us why you preponed the date without consulting us first. it's not the extra practice we're worried about. it's the fact that you didn't care to ask us in the first place! aren't we the artists- no, i need you to listen to me right now- don't tell me to calm down!"

your lips press together in concern as you walk over to him. he doesn't see you even when you're standing right beside him, more intent on getting his point across.

"we've been working overtime since last month..."

"seungcheol..." you call him.

"...and yet, we haven't gotten a single break day-

"seungcheol."

"-and then you expect us to do our best and get more wins-"

"love..."

you hold his chin with your hand and gently turn his face towards you. the sudden shift in his glance is noticed only by you. the angry, outraged expression of his turns into a soft, meek look with just a single touch, sparkles automatically forming in his eyes as they focus on you. the staff beside you bows and leaves the room. your eyes follow them until they shut the door before moving back to his.

he slumps into your hand as you lean in to press a kiss, and wraps his around you, body feeling heavy. jeonghan nods and you lead seungcheol out into the breakroom.

his face still hangs low, lips losing their pout only when you press your lips to them. his frown turns into the smallest of smiles.

"thanks for getting me out of there. i was starting to lose my mind."

"kwan told me you were furious. i had to come running," you hold his cheek and he leans into your touch. his stomach grumbles in response.

"you might have been a little hangry back then. come on, let's get you some food," you drag him out of the building to a cafe nearby you often visit.

"sho you mean to shay you'd alwaysh come for me?" he mumbles through a mouthful of the hideously large croissant he'd ordered, a few crumbs and some chocolate filling dusting his lips.

"i don't like to be rushed..." you lean forward to wipe it off with your thumb with a fond smile, before licking it off.

"...but for you, i'd always come running."

inspired from this video on twitter (that completely, absolutely destroyed me because LOOK AT HIM?! adorable pouty cutie pie

[finelinevogue]

Hi I just read your work bigger than all of them and I loved it sm!! Wondered abt a follow up fic where one of the girls let’s slip that they talked abt it to the boys and Cass and Rhys are like upset that Az is the biggest maybe? Idk just thought it would be funny ❤️❤️

this is so funny yess of course!!! this is only short but… hope it’s worth it!! tysm for reading <33

word count - >500

pairing - azriel x mate!reader

[ part 1 here ]

It was family dinner night.

Everyone together for a lovely meal, cooked by Elain and Mor since they were the best chefs the family had to offer. Cassian would pretend he chipped in, but realistically he only licked the pudding bowl after it had been finished with.

“Pass me the sauce please, Az.” Rhys asked, holding an arm out for his brother to pass him the sauce pot.

“Feyre are you seriously ogling Rhys’ arms at the dinner table?” Amren snorted.

“They’re right in front of me what do you expect?” Feyre blushed and everyone laughed at how easy it was to wind her up.

“We know what to expect, don’t we little miss High Lady.” Mor raised her eyebrows, which caused Feyre to go all shy and dip her head into Rhys’ body for protection.

“Did we miss something?”

Cassian, the ever oblivious male, asked.

“You certainly did.” Nesta smirked.

Each of you girls began to catch each other’s eyes from around the room, trying your best not to snicker or expose yourselves.

Mor looked at you and held her hands up in front of her, palm facing palm. She slowly dragged them from a centimetre apart to about nine inches.

Your breath hitched as you remembered what she was implying - how her actions related to the other night - and now it was your turn to blush.

“Oh..” You sighed awkwardly.

“What?” Azriel asked from beside you.

“Nothing, nothing.” You smiled, using your face to stuff a potato in your mouth so you wouldn’t have to answer any more questions.

Curse Azriel to be so perceptive though.

He looked over to Mor, who was still holding up her hands the exact same way. She held eye contact with Azriel and then switched to looking at the gap between her hands, before looking back at him with an impressed look on her face.

If it weren’t for the well-known fact that Mor’s mind was constantly horny then he wouldn’t have a clue what she was doing. But because of that fact, plus Azriel being so clever, he put it all together.

Azriel coughed subtly, before taking his hands away from his cutlery and holding out his own hands. He held them slightly further apart than Mor’s.

“It’s actually more like this.”

Mor’s jaw went slack.

She could not believe that quiet, shy-boy, Azriel had just said what he said and did what he did.

You watched the whole thing and sunk further down into your chair.

“Please stop.” You mumbled.

The girls started squealing again, meaning that they’d seen the little dramatic too. You’d been too busy focusing on Azriel and his hands to notice though.

It was his fault he was too distracting. You often told him his beauty would one day get him in trouble.

“That’s….” Feyre gawked.

“Big!”

“Huge!”

“Oh Mother above… Y/N how are you still alive?”

A flurry of comments from the girls made you go cherry red. This was worse than the wine evening itself. Now under the spotlight of your mate too, it only increased the embarrassing situation tenfold.

Cassian stopped eating for a minute to find that Rhys looked very unimpressed by his giggling mate. Nesta and Elain were fanning themselves like they were in heat. Mor looked like she was majorly impressed by something. You looked like you wanted the Mother to swallow you whole and Azriel… well he looked like a the cockiest Illyrian he had ever seen.

“Wait?! Did I miss something again?”

[sleepyjuice]

toxic!rafe will blow your phone up the second you post something on instagram that he’s ‘iffy’ about.

you posted a photo dump which consisted of some random photos of the beach, some of your friends, one of you and rafe of course, but the one that had rafe seeing red was the last slide, which was you in a bikini. he texted you several times at first, and while you were literally typing your response, he called you. your fingers were typing so fast to respond to him that you accidentally declined the call, and he did not like that. you immediately went to call him back, but another text from rafe rolled in, saying ‘fuck you don’t talk to me we’re done’ you sighed loudly, knowing damn well he was talking out of his ass right now, so you sat back and waited for the inevitable next string of texts to roll in. which they did, only seconds later.

rafe <3: do you get off on making me mad or something

rafe <3: like i’m racking my brain trying to understand why you do the things you do and that’s all i can come up with

rafe <3: and i see at least 4 guys have already liked your post like that’s crazy to me?? thought i told you to block all the guys that followed you?? of course you didn’t

rafe <3: also who even took that pic of you??? bc i know damn well it wasn’t me so who the fuck you posing for with your fucking ass and tits out? WHAT THE FUCK

rafe <3: DO NOT PUT YOUR SHIT ON DO NOT DISTURB answer me rn.

rafe <3: nah it’s cool actually i’m gonna go hit up my other gfs so you have a good night.

you rolled your eyes at that last text, deciding to fully turn your phone off. you knew he would likely try to text or call you again very soon but you didn’t want to deal with it right now. this wasn’t your first rodeo, you knew nothing you could say to him right now would calm him down, so letting him freak out on his own was the best method to his madness.

three hours had passed since you turned your phone off. you had caught up on some reading and turned on your current favorite show, but found yourself interrupted by a knock at your front door. you expected it to be rafe, but instead it was a large bouquet of your favorite flowers and a gift bag. you glanced around to see if rafe was lurking around, but saw nothing. when he freaked out over text and was able to reread his actions, he usually waited a bit longer to show his face as opposed to a verbal argument.

you brought the flowers inside and set them on the counter before grabbing the card attached to the side of the bouquet.

sorry we argued. you are so beautiful and i love you so much. got you a little gift and sent you some money for food and i set your appointment with your nail girl for tomorrow at 10. love you forever baby -rafe

you couldn’t help but smile just a little. the flowers were beautiful and the note was pretty sweet, so you chose to ignore the part where he said ‘we argued.’ you didn’t get a word in, but you let it slide. especially after you opened the gift bag to see the new dior bag you had been wanting.

you hurried to turn on your phone, immediately seeing a $500 apple payment from rafe as well as a new text from a few minutes ago.

rafe <3: hope you like the flowers and bag baby. love you! :)

you: i love them. thanks rafe, love you too

rafe <3: good to hear. lmk what you end up getting for dinner and i’ll pick you up tomorrow to take you to your nail apt. can’t wait to see you baby

you would order yourself dinner that was obviously way less than $500, but you would send rafe a picture and thank him again. you’d facetime him before bed and conversation flowed like nothing had even happened just hours before. he’d ask you what color nails you were getting, tell you funny stories about the old men at the country club and excitedly plan what you two were going to do the next day. the cycle seemed like it would never end, but you often forgot about the bad when he was talking so sweetly to you and all you could think about was how excited you were to see him tomorrow.

[moonstruckme]

hi !! for sirius requests, what about a whimsical! reader x jealous! sirius?? i think it would be fun to think about what would cause it and whimsical! reader would probably be a little oblivious 🤔

if not, feel free to ignore! i love ur works 🫶🫶

Thanks for requesting angel !

cw: jealousy/possessiveness, Sirius losing it a bit, James and Remus being reasonable but also here for the drama, reader is hit on and is oblivious so I wouldn't call it cheating but beware if that's gonna be weird for you

Sirius Black x whimsical!reader ♡ 955 words

“Sirius, mate.” There’s laughter in James’ voice, a hint of knowing humor. “You’re gonna break a tooth.”

Sirius unclenches his jaw almost reluctantly. He needs a physical outlet for his ire. If he doesn’t grind his teeth, he’s going to break the pint in his hand, he’s sure of it. 

“Can’t glare him out of existence either,” Remus hums, sounding altogether too smug. Remus finds endless amusement in Sirius’ torment, will likely recount it to you later so you can laugh at him together. Sirius makes a mental note to salt Remus’ coffee the next time he has opportunity. 

You’re a funny sight in the rowdy pub, lovely, resplendent, your long skirt with its grass stains a notable contrast to the jeans and trackies surrounding you. You slip between tables like a wood nymph, like a creature plucked from the next world. Sirius wishes he were the only one to notice, to admire you, but often he isn’t. 

You’ve been arrested on your way to the bar. It’s Sirius’ fault for not going to get your drink for you, really, but he wasn’t expecting some bloke to chat you up for so long you sat down with him. Now you’re all lovely and resplendent sitting at the bar with another man, and James is right—Sirius very well might break a tooth over it. His, or preferably someone else’s. 

“Oh god, this is really dire, isn’t it?” James whispers to Remus. He has terrible friends, Sirius thinks. He should get rid of them both. “He’s gone all quiet and broody.” 

“Mm. Might never speak again.” 

“You think?”

“If we’re lucky.” 

“Y/n seems rather fond of him speaking, though. Maybe she will run off with some other bloke then.” 

You smile at something the man says, and Sirius’ chair is shoved back before he knows he’s doing it. 

“Wait, wait.” James is laughing now, the prick. He reaches out to hold Sirius’ arm. “We’re only joking. She’s fine, mate, relax.” 

“I know,” Sirius says, clipped. “I’m going to get her so she can be fine over here instead.” 

Remus hums. “Seems like she’s beating you to it.” 

Sirius turns back around, and you’re headed towards them, smiling with four drinks in your hands. Four large, fruity-looking drinks. 

“Hi,” James greets you, eyebrows lifting, “are these for us?” 

“Mhm.” You set them down on the table, sliding one to each of the boys. “I’m not sure what’s in them, but I asked for something sweet. Is that alright?” 

“More than alright.” James nods enthusiastically, claiming his. “Thanks, lovely.” 

“Did you make a friend?” Sirius asks. He can hear the grit in his own voice, but you don’t seem to. Your head only bobs placidly. 

“Yeah. A man at the bar said he wanted to buy me a drink, but I told him I wouldn’t feel right about it if he didn’t get some for my friends, too.” You guide your straw to your mouth, sipping. “His name is Marty, he seems very nice.” 

“Is that what you called us, then? Your friends?” 

You look perplexed. “Well, James and Remus are my friends. Is that okay?” 

Sirius softens. “Yeah,” he says, tearing his gaze away from Marty to look at you. “Sure it is. C’mere, doll.” 

You know what he wants without asking, moving your drink before slipping onto his lap unquestioningly. Sirius slips his arms around your waist, thumb stroking near your hip. You turn your face so your words brush his cheek. 

“You’re my friend, too, you know,” you say, softly. “Even if you’re also my love.” 

That makes Sirius smile, ignoring the way James and Remus are murmuring and snickering with each other. “Yeah?” 

“Of course.” You touch his arm. His sleeves are rolled up to the elbow, and you slip a finger inside one absently, running the circumference of his bicep. Little shivers of electricity crackle upwards from your touch. 

“Thanks, angel. I like that you’re my friend, too.” 

Conversation becomes easier after a while. Sirius finds he can talk with his friends, even laugh, so long as he keeps his hold on you and makes sure that every time Marty looks over at you, it’s Sirius’ eyes he meets instead. You seem oblivious to it all, the looking and the touching and the intermittent, silent fury that radiates off your boyfriend every time he remembers Marty making you smile, but after you’ve all finished your drinks you lean back and put your nose to Sirius’ cheek. 

“I don’t think,” you murmur, nosing at his stubble almost absently, “that Marty is going to buy us any more drinks if you keep looking at him like that.” 

Remus, overhearing, turns a smile into his glass. Sirius tries to act surprised. “Me? How am I looking at him?”

“You’re being mean.”

“I’m not.” 

“You are.” You deliver this news ever so gently, with a kiss to his jaw. “I don’t see why. He was nice to us.” 

“He was nice to you,” Sirius says automatically, some of the vitriol returning to his tone. He squeezes your hip just to feel the solidity of you in his hands. “I don’t think he’d have been quite so nice if he knew you had a boyfriend, sweetness.” 

Your brows come together. “Why not?” 

Oh, you’re adorable. Sirius kisses your frown, his fondness for you almost eclipsing his pique. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll get our drinks from now on, okay?” 

“Okay,” you say, dubious. “Though I don’t see why we’d turn down free drinks if someone wants to be kind.” 

“Let me be kind to you, doll. Okay?” 

You soften, your eyes going sweet and liquid. “You’re always kind to me.” 

Sirius kisses you again, grinning now. “Damn right.” 

[daylighted]

dean winchester x angel!reader — innocence is a virtue.

or, how on earth is he supposed to corrupt you? you? or, dean's newest passenger princess is killing him slowly and violently.

cw, fluff but with sexual elements. mostly fluffy though. reckless driving DO NOTTT do this!! professionals only!! dirty minded!dean. honestly just horny!dean really. innuendos galore.

word count : 2.9k

notes, guys can i be so honest i have not even gotten to the seasons where angels come into spn. this is all based on the lil bits n pieces i know of the future stuff ok. ik i'm a fraud but BE GENTLE IF IT'S OOC OR ANYTHING < /3

req. by anon & in honor of kas's dean & angel fics bc i LOVEEE them

★ ˚⋆

dean, honestly, had never met someone quite like you. when he'd told cas in passing that he was about the most naive, innocent thing he'd ever met, all he did was give him one of those looks he reserved only for dean. he thought, then, that it was just because he was being a bit of a shithead, and cas was telling him without telling him so.

very quickly, he found out how wrong he was about both of his assessments.

the day you came down to earth and graced everyone, literally, with your presence, dean was smitten. never before had he met someone so sweet. so honestly pure. until you, he thought that purity was nothing but an ideology based on impossible feats. a pipe dream and a half for the faithful. no, the reality was that he just hadn't met you yet.

sam was pouring himself into research, too focused to realize that dean was all but whittling away in his starvation, so when he offered to go grab some cheap shit from the diner a few minutes from the motel, all he got in response was a mumble of agreement and a wave of his hand from him.

but you, who'd been sitting on the motel bed, stiff as if you had something stuck up your ass holding you in place, turned to him and asked to come with. that struck dean off kilter immediately, because he hadn't been asked for anything in a long ass while. sam just usually assumed he'd be writing shotgun wherever they went. john — no, he'd never ask his son anything, usually buried that sentiment in harsh demands and orders. cas asked him lots of questions, but permission was not often one of them.

and when he looked at you, read over your features and saw the genuineness in your wide, expectant eyes... god, how could he say no?

so you sat there in the passenger seat. dean had to buckle you in with a joke that flew right over your head — another joke you would not get, even though he was fucking killing it with them right now — about not wanting to send you flying if they got into a wreck.

you proceeded to unbuckle and buckle and unbuckle again a few times, seemingly fascinated with the click of the mechanism. dean wanted to be annoyed. genuinely. if sam had started pulling this shit, dean would have pulled over and drove a few feet ahead as a warning to cut it the fuck out.

but with you, it was adorable in its own right. god, it was! somehow it surprised you, every time it clicked, even if you'd already done it eight times. like, how did anyone expect him to get pissy at you when you were doing those sharp, surprised gasps every few seconds? a few more times and he'd be pulling over to give you something to gasp at, he thought idly.

and then winced, scrunching up his face, when he realized how deep in the gutter his head was. no, he wouldn't touch you. wouldn't even try to plant that idea in your pretty little head.

dean didn't want to corrupt you. if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that he wanted to keep that pretty little head as clear as his nose was, alright? he wasn't going to be the one to break you into what this world was, its hardships and its cruelties — and its more deviant pleasures.

but fuck, you made it so hard to keep his head straight.

you did this thing, he realized too, on that silent, clicky drive, where you tugged your bottom lip between your teeth when you were in deep thought. thought about what, fuck if he knew, because if you said something to him in the moments that he watched you do it, he'd never know. he was watching your mouth but not to listen.

dean was about to start reprimanding himself in his head, for what must have been the third time already, when you said something, nearly making him slam on the brakes in his surprise.

"how are you doing this?" you asked, as if that wasn't the vaguest question he'd heard in his entire life.

dean blinked a couple of times as he waited for elaboration that never came. he switched hands on the steering wheel, resting his right loosely over the gearstick. "doing..." he trailed off, shaking his head slowly in a gesture to make you keep talking, "what, exactly?"

you did not catch the hint, and he was probably a fool for expecting you to. it took a few more seconds of you staring very intently at his thighs for you to speak up, and by then, he was fucking squirming in his leather seat, trying to not let it get to either of his heads that you were so blatantly staring at his dick.

"this," you answered, twinges of frustration evident in your tone. he couldn't blame you. he was getting frustrated in this car ride, too. "making it move."

christ. he was going to hell. he was going to hell again, this time because of his own drifting thoughts.

"you're gonna have to be a little more clear, dove," he managed through his teeth, voice strained, "'cause i don't think we are on the same train of thought right now."

another blink, and another few seconds pass. your hand shot up in his direction and he flinched, honestly flinched, convinced from the filthy thoughts circling in his head that you were about to grab him by the—

"this," you repeated, and he almost bristled at the attitude, almost told you off about virtues or whatever, when he finally got it. your arm stuck out in gesture to his legs, which pushed the gas pedal and rested against the doorframe, as he drove.

dean closed his eyes briefly, metaphorically swapping his metaphorical wrist for his headspace. he was not, was not, the person that should be introducing you to this world.

dean shifted again, bringing his left leg closer to the leather seat as he readjusted into more of a comfortable position. he hadn't even realized how tense he'd gotten on this short car ride until now. he was as straight backed as you were, and breathing just as slow. "driving?" he asked anyways, like an idiot.

"driving..." you repeated, like the word was as fascinating to you as the process was. "how?"

the diner sign was right there. it was teal and glowed, retro in style, announcing benny's bistro as open.

he drove past it.

dean knew that you did not sign up for a driver's ed course with him with your question, knew even more that he was risking his baby for a pathetic attempt at flirting with someone who did not even know the definition of the word, but to hell with it. you'd asked to come along with him, and therefore placed yourself in his hands for his guidance. the least he could do was make some sort of effort, couldn't he?

"c'mere," he grumbled once he'd pulled baby off into an unassuming back road, parking it dead in the center. you'd need all the open space. he patted his spread thighs a couple of times.

your stupidly pretty pink lips sucked into your stupidly straight teeth. fuck. "why?"

"just—" he cut himself off when he realized he was about to get snippy. you didn't deserve snippy. he was just hungry and horny and you were pretty and he was...

he was pathetic. looking for reasons to get you into his lap. he'd already been to hell, what are they gonna do, drag him back by his ear?

"just do it," dean finished on a sigh, his hand dropping to the front of his leather seat, grabbing the handle and shoving the seat back as far as it could go. there you were, staring at his dick again, making him feel hotter and more bothered.

he felt his heart stop solidly in his chest when you started to climb over the middle console, so oblivious to the faceful of ass he was getting. dean was practically praying to god at that point. he knew he'd been a shit until then, and definitely a sinner by every means, but if he could grant him a little fucking strength—

you plopped your happy little ass right between his muscular, jean-clad thighs. you were warm, was his first thought. he was screwed, was his second.

"what now?" you asked him, that innocent lilt to your voice as you did, and he felt like a dirty little freak for wanting to bend you over the steering wheel moments before ( who was he kidding? for still wanting to bend you over the steering wheel ).

dean took both of your hands and placed them on the steering wheel. once he'd closed your fingers around the wheel, he dropped his hands to your thighs.

"this one," he patted the left one, and nearly went molten behind you, when you lifted that thigh and placed it on his palm. "nuh uh," he tried to lightly correct, "this one you don't use. jus' keep it out of the way." dean's voice was strained in his ears, in his throat.

you slipped your thigh out of his grasp, pressing it up against the inner of his own thigh, your foot tucked around his ankle. you were so trusting and compliant. he was so, so screwed, and so, so awful for thinking about breaking that sweet naivety.

"this one," he said, patting your right thigh, and when you didn't move it this time, he smiled, just a little, to himself. "you use to make it move."

the flush on your cheeks that followed his tease was so damn pretty it took his breath away.

he lifted his leg, not able to reach the pedals with you sat between them and his seat all the way back. he pointed his boot at the left pedal, knowing you were watching each of his movements intently. "that's the stop pedal. push it down to stop." he repeated the process he'd done with your legs, boot pointing at the right pedal as he explained it. "that's the ignition."

pause.

"that's the go," he corrected, sparing you any momentary confusion and any more questions, he hoped. dean could not keep sitting here idle with you between his legs. "makes the car drive. harder you push, faster it goes."

hell, hell, hell. he wasn't going to hell, because he was already in it, strung up and burning.

"i'll handle the gears," he added quickly, when he caught your head turning downward to the shift stick. "don't wanna overwhelm that pretty little head of yours, dove, with too much at once."

dean rested his right hand on the gear stick, his left hand gripping the handle on the driver's door for dear life. he needed the support; you were driving him up a wall with his claws out, and you were about to be driving him. driving his baby. it took a lot of coaxing from sam for dean to let sam behind the wheel. all you did was ask how do you make it move? and he was letting you drive.

you. who did not even know what a car was. who was learning how to drive literally that moment.

god help him. he'd prayed more in this fifteen minute drive than he had in years.

you pressed down on the gas pedal, and the car revved all pretty and loud. dean watched with bated breath as the response to your efforts registered in your head, the way your eyes lit up in that curious glimmer, the fucking teeth biting on your lip.

once you let up, he pushed on the gear stick's release, and tugged it down from park to drive. the car slowly began to move down the dirt path.

you slammed the brakes so hard that his head knocked into the back of your shoulders. "fuck, dove, gentle."

and you were, when you shifted your foot over to the gas pedal again. you pushed it down on it tentatively, the car starting to glide down the dirt road, the sound of pebbles grinding beneath the tires.

"better," he mumbled in your ear, leant forward to keep his eyes on the windshield. it's not that he didn't trust you, he just... yeah, he didn't trust you. "just like that, dove."

the praise, though, goes in one ear and out the other, because the gentle ease of baby's tires along the road is interrupted by you slamming the gas. the tires squeal. clouds of dirt and dust puff out from behind the car as it takes off.

dean's heart went from in his ass to in his throat in a manner of a second. "whoa, whoa, whoa!" he exclaimed, a nervous laughter bubbling out of his throat. "slower, slower, will ya? crashin' in the middle of nowhere is the last—"

you hit the brakes again, still hard but less this time. just enough to send his head knocking into your shoulder again as the car slowed.

slowed, but still headed toward the ditch. "right, see your hands?" he asked, chin nuzzling into the plush spot between your neck and your shoulder so he could see better. "twist 'em. nice n' gentle for me, to your left, yeah, good girl. makes the whole car move, yeah? jus' keep it on the dirt, not off "

you follow his instructions, and dean feels a swell of pride at this. maybe he should have gone into driver's ed or some shit. he was a good ass teacher.

"like this?" you asked, drawing him out of his self glazing. your voice, soft and hesitant, breathless with your excitement, has his chest heaving.

"yeah, dove, jus' like that," he rasped, his left hand moving from the doorframe to rest where your thigh met your hips. the car kept its slow pace down the long dirt road, and for the first time since you'd gotten your hands on the wheel, his heart doesn't feel like it's pounding in his throat. "no, no, don't stop. keep goin', you're doing so good for me."

his phone starts to buzz in his pocket, and like that, his self indulgent driver's ed lesson comes to a screeching halt. "you jus' keep on going like this, alright?" he asked you, patting your hip with his hand before he reluctantly let go.

he definitely answered the phone with more attitude than necessary. couldn't help it. he was having a great time. "what, sam?"

"everything alright?" sam asked, and then dean felt like a prickhead for giving him shit at all. "s'been thirty minutes."

dean sighed, his eyes lifting again to look out the front windshield. a stop sign was quickly approaching, and you didn't even need his guidance for that. you were slowing to a stop all on your own. he was so fucking proud, it was sick. "all good. long line at the burger place."

it was dead empty, four miles back.

"we'll be back in a few, alright? chew on one of your books or somethin' while you wait, make 'em useful."

"dean—"

he hung up before he could hear sam's sighed response.

his hand fell to your waist again, squeezing lightly to stop you from lifting your foot off of the brake just yet. "play time's over. calvary's callin' us back."

dean pushed the gear stick into park again before he moved both of his hands to your hips, helping guide you back into the passenger seat.

he adjusted the seat again, his hands finding their typical place on the wheel. he did a very illegal u-turn at the four-way intersection and headed back down the road that you'd driven him down.

"have fun?" he asked after a beat, eyes flicking over to see you. you looked so pretty in the orange glow of the sunset, your face lit up in deep gold.

you turned to meet his eyes, and he had to look away quickly, the bright glimmer of adrenaline in them knocking all the wind out of him. "yes."

"good." dean meant it. there were so few things he'd risk everything for, but that toothy smile of yours jumped to the top of that list.

"dean?" your voice rung out again, earning him another glance your way in acknowledgement. "what part of the car was in my back the whole time?"

dean faltered, eyes blinking in a bout of surprise and lips parting, searching for a response he did not have. his eyes dropped down to his lap for a second, dread and embarrassment pooling like ice water in his stomach at what he hoped wasn't— yeah. yeah, it was.

"i dunno, dove," he mumbled through his teeth, staring straight ahead, fingers tapping on the steering wheel, doing basically anything to not meet that curious look of yours. especially knowing you'd have your lip in your teeth all over again. "might have t'take it to the shop, while we're in town... get it checked out or somethin'..."

he was so damn screwed.

tags, @figthoughts @jasvtsc @titsout4nicholas @deanswidow @deansbite

[natalievoncatte]

There was something decidedly… insistent about Lena’s footsteps. Kara knew it was her, of course, when she picked up Lena heading towards her apartment. Not just her heart rate but her breathing and mumbling to herself and the way she walked, her footfalls painting a picture of how she was walking, and she was mad.

Kara expected a complaint when she opened the door. Lena would sometimes launch without preamble into a rant about this investor or that senator or some such executive at this or that company and just rant adorably, balling her little fists. Kara would never tell her, because she’d feel patronized, but Lena genuinely was cute when she was angry.

Well, annoyed. When she was really angry, throwing a fit angry, fed up with the world angry, she was something else entirely. Kara would move heaven and earth, quite literally, to address whatever bothered her. When she was sad it was even worse and Kara just wanted to bundle her up in her invulnerable arms and shelter her from everything forever.

Lena walked into the apartment, not looking at Kara, and clearly fuming. She dropped the order she’d picked up on the way into the kitchen island and stared at it, then finally glared at Kara. There was no mistaking the subject of her anger.

Kara fidgeted nervously. She shifted on her feet, feeling a pressure of Lena’s gaze that forced her own away.

“Lena? Is something wrong?” She swallowed, hard. “Bad day?”

“Something is wrong,” Lena said, very softly, in the icy tone she reserved for the fools she did not suffer gladly. “Take off your glasses.”

“What?”

“Take off your glasses, Kara.”

“But I can’t see…”

Lena stepped forward and put her hand on the takeout order in its plastic bag. Kara had ordered it and Lena had agreed to pick it up, far from be first time they’d done that. Lena often ordered for them and Kara brought it when Lena was hosting.

Right now Lena was trembling, head tilted forward like she meant to charge, eyes locked on Kara.

“Glasses. Off.”

Kara hesitated briefly.

“Okay,” she muttered, screaming at herself not to do this, pleading for some kind of distraction.

All she wanted to do tonight was curl up with Lena on the couch and watch a movie and focus very very hard on not giving away how badly she wanted to make out with her.

Kara slowly took the earpieces in her hands and slipped them off, setting the too-heavy frames on the table with a soft clunk. The word rushed in, sounds more vibrant and distracting, colors almost unpleasantly sharp.

Lena was staring at her. Her nostrils flared and her fists clenched. She took her hand from the food bag and took another step forward, then another, finally picking up the glasses in her own hand, feeling them. She raised them as if to put them on and stared through them.

“For someone who says she’s blind without them, these glasses don’t have a very strong prescription, do they.”

Possibilities raced through Kara’s mind. Things she could say, things she might do. She’d squeaked out of this before, somehow evaded Lena’s staggering intellect. She had seen curiosity darken her brows, maybe even brief moments of suspicion.

This was different. Heavier. More serious.

“What gave me away?”

“Everything, really. All the pieces were there this whole time, but I just refused to put them together on my own. It took a flat out slap in the face to make me choose to see it.”

Kara’s chest felt like it was caving in. Everything was going wrong. Her chin quivered and the tears began welling hot behind her eyes.

Lena looked at her flatly. “The guy at the take out place asked me why I was picking up Supergirl’s order. I asked him what the hell he was talking about and he told me Supergirl comes on all the time. Then he showed me a selfie.”

Kara licked her lips.

“It has to be a mistake.”

“They have your number on their speed dial as Supergirl, Kara. You let their delivery kid take a selfie in your suit. They wouldn’t let me pay for it. The old lady that owns the place said ‘Supergirls girlfriend, no charge!’ and started laughing.”

Kara stared at her.

“Lena…”

“You better have a good fucking explanation for why your favorite restaurant knows who you really are and not your supposed best friend.”

The tension in their air was palpable, electric. Kara could feel it like the gathering energy in the air before a storm, ready to burst forth with energy and life or mindless destruction. She folded her arms around herself and looked down.

“You do know me,” Kara finally said. “You do know who I really am. You’re the only person who does.”

Lena’s extension was fixed, intense, edging between a scowl and a pout, and Kara realized with a start that she was holding back tears of her own.

“You’re the only person that knows me as me. You know me without Supergirl, but without all the fake stuff I do so people won’t realize I’m Supergirl. I don’t have to pretend to be clumsy with you. You’re not always looking at me like I’m super strong or super fast. I can just be me when I’m with you.”

“You’ve lied to me so many times,” Lena said, after drawing in a deep breath. “Running away from our lunches, telling me wild stories about where you disappear to at work, and I just bought every bit of it. You must think I’m an easy mark.”

“No, never.”

“I’ve always had it in the back of my head. I always thought there was something there, something between us that kept you from really, truly being yourself with me. The way your touches are always so whisper-light and you’re always stealing glances at me. Like you were afraid with every word or movement that you’d give something away.”

“Lena,” Kara began.

“I knew you were hiding something. I had hoped it was something else.”

Kara licked her lips. She quickened her perception, a little trick of will that took her out of sync with the humans around her, processing the world at her natural speed, which made her peers seem almost frozen in place by comparison.

She took this drawn out instant to really look at Lena, truly take her in, savor what she was seeing because it might be the end. She was suddenly heavily, painfully aware that this might be the last time she ever looked on Lena in person.

Great father Rao, she was so beautiful. Not hot or pretty or even gorgeous or sexy, beautiful. She was dressed for the autumn chill in a pea coat and turtleneck and black leggings and her hair was down, letting itself soften into her natural waves. She was without makeup, and Kara suddenly realized that she only ever saw Lena without makeup when she meant to be alone with Kara. When she was her most pure, most true self.

Kara slowed herself again and as she did the world sped up, and she drank in the soft sadness in Lena’s blue-green eyes and all of those things she’d pushed deep down came bubbling to the surface: imagined sighs and the feeling of that lustrous inky hair slipping through her fingers, her name whispered on pillowy lips.

Human thoughts. Alien thoughts. Desires no Kryptonian should even apprehend, much less indulge. The very idea of the non-procreative act was shameful, and to develop these emotional entanglement…

Kara had once mourned her failure, for she had been charged with preserving the ways of her people. Her first command had been to keep Kal Kryptonian.

A task she had failed even within herself.

“You hoped it was something else?”

Lena looked at her so sadly and so sweetly and swallowed.

“Yeah,” she said in a thick voice, “I kinda did.”

Kara smiled in spite of herself. When she sighed, it was as if the weight of a world slid off her shoulders.

“Can’t a girl have two secrets?”

Lena’s eyes widened.

“One day a long time ago, very very far away, a young Kara looked over her shoulder and watched the shockwave shatter the crust of her planet as its core exploded. She lost everything. Her world, her family, her culture, so many things. Tastes. Colors. Places. All gone.”

Lena wrapped her arms around herself, averting her gaze.

“I knew I’d lose you eventually. I just wanted to keep you as long as I could.”

Lena reached up and rubbed at her eyelids with her fingers.

“Do you remember when your mom’s goons threw you off the balcony?”

“Yes,” said Lena.

“Do you remember how I held you when I caught you?”

“I do.”

“I wish I hadn’t lied. I wish I’d never put you down.”

Lena said nothing and did not look up. Kara could hear her heart racing, practically feel the tension in her limbs across the room.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I lied. I’ve always known I could never keep you, I just didn’t want to make it end.”

Lena looked up with tear-wet eyes.

Then she lunged across the room, crossing the gap between them in long strides. Kara Danvers -Kara Zoe-El, Supergirl- was caught almost completely off guard. It wasn’t until Lena was practically charging into her arms, leaping into her, that she remembered to cushion the impact, catch her gently and make sure she didn’t slam herself into an unyielding wall of Kara.

She was so surprised, so shocked into helpless acceptance, that she didn’t offer the slightest residence when Lena reached, grabbed her neck in a firm hold, and pulled her into a kiss. Kara’s stomach did a backflip and she was helpless, undone despite all her strength. For a moment both their eyes opened and they looked at each other in a wordless exchange and Kara began kissing her back in earnest. Lena’s sharp breaths and soft moans instantly kindled a hot need inside her, thrumming like a plucked guitar string, and she effortlessly lifted Lena onto the kitchen counter.

“Holy shit, you’re strong,” Lena breathed.

“Of course I am,” she whispered into Lena’s kiss. “I’m Supergirl.”

And at long last, Kara found something she wanted to taste more than potstickers.

[ozzgin]

Request/Idea-

Male Yandere Lawyer x Female Embroider Reader (a lady who works as a tailor is fine too)

Imagine a man falling head over heels for that newly employed lady who hand embroiders beautiful handkerchiefs in a luxury shop he visits to get his custom suits! And he just trying to coax her into dating him, marrying him, and becoming his stay at home wife (and mother of his children eventually) 🥰🤭

Age difference? I need some DILF Daddy energy more in my life (but don’t make him an actual father…yet)

P.S. I adore your OCs and writing. And your artwork is way too fucking good! You’re art is just *chef’s kiss* infuckingcredible

-👘

Ooh, you know what this reminds me of? I have a yaoi volume from Scarlet Beriko, “Queen and the tailor”, about an interior designer that visits a legendary tailor whose suits will supposedly help you achieve success. The tailor turns out to be a scary looking, blunt man but nonetheless extremely talented. I liked the premise a lot, so it’s definitely interesting to try out a different perspective.

In this case I have the image of a patient, soft-spoken reader and a hurried, short tempered lawyer. Comically different but in a way that eventually works out, you know? Also thank you for the kind words!

Yandere!Lawyer x Embroiderer!Reader Headcanons

Featuring a Reader that is blissfully unaware the lawyer she just stared dating has their entire life together already sorted out.

Content: female reader, age gap, older yandere, obsessive behavior

Your eyes begin to hurt mildly, so you look out the window and blink repeatedly, trying to refresh your poor sight. Such detailed works always strain you terribly, but you love seeing the finished result. Others must, too, given your handkerchiefs are often sold out the very same day. Right before your needle pierces the silk canvas anew, the door opens with a burst and you jolt. An older man in a suit, arguing loudly over the phone. He’s drumming his fingers over the counter, eyes darting around in search for an attendant. You know the type quite well, so you hurry over with the hoop still in your hand. “Might I help you with anything?” You mouth discreetly. He turns to you, stares for a couple of seconds, and promptly ends his call.

Out of all the places, he certainly didn’t expect regretting his rusty, unpolished flirting skills in a luxury tailor shop. Yet here he is now, clumsily mumbling something about his new suit he’s come to pick up and wondering how to connect that with your number. The name’s the easy part, as it’s neatly and conveniently printed out on the little badge pinned to your collar. Everything else, not so much. You excuse yourself and return moments later with his order. Shit. You tilt your head, confused by the delayed response, worrying whether you forgot something. Next time. He’ll figure it out for sure next time he comes here.

If there’s one good thing about his career, it’s that his eyes have been trained to spot every detail. For example the embroidery hoop you gently held while speaking to him, so he knows exactly what his next custom order will be. Truth be told, he didn’t anticipate your popularity and long waiting times, but a calculated raised tone with a sprinkle of intimidation has convinced the employee to assign him to you as earliest priority. Whether he can flirt remains to be seen, but arguing with others? Child’s play.

“Thank you for coming again today.” You bow slightly and extend the gift bag. “Although, I must say…I’ve never seen you using these before. What has caused your sudden interest in handkerchiefs?” Rather bold of you to begin such conversations, but your curiosity is too great. No matter how hard you try, you can’t imagine why a blunt, nonchalant man like him would abruptly become passionate about embroidery. A lover? You smile faintly at the idea. Whoever it is, they’ve taken quite the challenge upon themselves. The lawyer frowns at the inquiry. It seems you’re just as observant as him. Maybe this shall be the pretext he can finally cling onto. So he presents it in the factual truth you’d hear in a courthouse: it’s his excuse to see you. You raise your eyebrows in surprise. Well now, isn’t it just silly? He could’ve simply asked. Buying countless expensive handmade items instead of plainly confessing his intentions…He stumbles, flustered. The same man whose ruthless reputation has even reached your humble ears is anxiously awaiting your response with a deep blush on his face.

The childlike innocence doesn’t last long. You’ve agreed to date him and that’s great, but he’s a man with little time that has known exactly what he wants for many years. When he laid his eyes on you he didn’t imagine cheesy coffee dates as you discuss your favorite color and cautiously breach the topic of intimacy. What’s the point? He’s already certain he’ll spend the rest of his life with you. Skip the unnecessary steps. On the other hand, you’re not as cooperative as he’d wish. Truly, the tangible proof that opposites attract. You’re always calm and take your time with everything. It’s almost frustrating how easygoing you are. When asked when you’re moving in with him, you just smiled and wondered out loud what could be wrong with your small studio above the shop. Marriage? Good question, you never thought about it.

Oh, the irony. Last time a client was being particularly difficult, your lawyer boyfriend pulled him out by the collar under the mortified stares of the other attendants and shoppers. The exact attitude he himself would’ve shown before, yet this time it’s different. Of course it is, it involves you. His thin patience runs out if it’s you. That’s all there is to it. Can you blame a man for following his heart? They say you should always chase your dreams; he prefers hunting them down efficiently, and the shotgun is pointed in your direction. His sweet, exquisite prey he can never get enough of.

Finally you agree to move in with him. Your hesitation was maddening and he’d started coming up with downright psychotic alternatives to convince you, such as your studio burning down after a vicious attack of some unknown hooligans. So it was rather wise of you not to push someone that knows the law like the back of his hand, even if you aren’t aware of it yet. He enthusiastically guides you around your new forever home, omitting unimportant details. The spare office he emptied for a future nursery? You’ll get to that later.

He can’t wait to spoil you. See, that’s the advantage of dating an older man. He’s gotten his life sorted out a long time ago. All that was left was finding you. You just need to be a darling and behave. He knows you will. After all, you’re his talented little embroideress that won’t have to worry about anything else ever again.

[peter-pumpkin-eater]

Close your eyes

Caleb x gn!reader

summary: You and Caleb do face masks together

warnings: none, fluff, yearning

word count: 583

“Hold still.”

“I am.” 

“Shh don’t talk.”

Caleb glares at you, but does as he’s told. He’s standing between your legs, hands resting high on your thighs. His hair is pulled back with a kitty cat headband and you’re slowly working a very cold clay mask onto his face. You had stood so shyly in his room doorway, twisting your foot into the carpet that he folded before you even asked what you wanted him to do.

“This is said to help brighten your skin, and help with eyebags too.” You paused, booping his nose. “You need that.” you continued to spread the goo across his cheek bones. Your lips were slightly parted in concentration and they shined so nicely under the bathroom light. Caleb swallowed thickly, his eyes closing. The little spatula glides across his skin and he’s now fully covered. 

“Perfect!” You sing song, a large smile on your face. You were wearing a matching headband to keep your bangs off your forehead. You handed Caleb the pot and looked at him expectantly. His heart ached painfully in his chest.

“Close your eyes.” You do as you're told. Your lashes fanning out so prettily. Caleb was a selfish man. He took pride in knowing no one gets to see you like this. That no one else gets this side of you. He runs his thumb under your bottom lip. Your eyes open and head tilts to the side in question.

“Had some fluff.” he lies. You smile and close your eyes again. He takes the spatula and starts on your forehead. The cold dark coloured clay is thick going on and he takes his time spreading it evenly around. Down your temple, across your cheeks, onto your nose. He’s savouring this closeness, your breaths mingling in the quiet bathroom. 

He puts the pot down next to your leg and you open your eyes. Caleb brushed a stay hair away from your face. “Now we’re the prettiest people around.”

“I’m sure if we run into someone outside right now they might have a heart attack.”

“At how hot we are.” He counters. Hands back to idling on your thighs, thumbs rubbing circles into your skin. 

You suddenly remember the lip mask next to you. “Oh! Almost forgot this!” You pick up the little pink bottle and unscrew the top. “It’s the berry one.” You say bringing it up to his face to smell. He does, even though he knows the smell. Its always the same scent that lures him in when he’s overly tired at night. Always testing his willpower to not see if it tasted like berries too. 

Dipping your finger into the creamy palm, you bring it up to his lips. He dips his head down slightly. Your finger touches his upper lip, rubbing the sticky palm over it. Then move on to his lower lip. You’re lingering, he notices. He can see your eyes cloud over slightly as your finger slowly moves his plush lip. 

He pretends to bite at your finger and that shocks you back to reality. “Rude.” you huff. Eyes dropping back to the bottle. 

“My turn?” He tips his chin to his chest, looking at you through his lashes. You nod and hand over the palm. Wasting no time he dips his finger in and tilts your chin up with his free hand. It glided easily across your lip. They’re always much softer than he expects. He thinks about them often. His chest aches again.

[dyns33]

Flufftober 2024 - 29 Eddie Brock / Venom

Y/N had met Vee during a Halloween party.

A little intimidated by the crowd and not knowing anyone, she had stayed in her corner for a good part of it, until this giant with his incredible costume came to talk to her.

It would be a lie to say that she had not found him adorably charming, and she would have liked them to be more than friends, if he had not spent most of the time talking to her about his Eddie.

It was obvious that there was something strong and unique between Vee and this Eddie, even if he did not seem to appreciate him at his true value.

"He never agrees with me… He wants to control everything !" he had sobbed against her shoulder. "He says that I won't even be good at cleaning toilets."

"That's not nice. Maybe this relationship is not very healthy."

"But I love Eddie. He takes care of me and even though he's a stupid loser, he tries a lot. Maybe… Maybe I'm too hard on him."

"It's normal to have expectations from your partner. You need to sit down and communicate, to see what's wrong and find solutions."

"You're right, little morsel ! You're a good friend !"

Obviously very busy, Vee kept in touch with her by calling her almost every night and sending her messages, but never having time to see her.

He used Eddie's phone, while he slept. Before meeting her, Vee had never seen the point of having one, and he contacted her secretly because he found it funny to have a secret all to himself.

"But I'll tell him at some point, because we share everything. We're in symbiosis, we're one."

"That's cute. Do you think he'll be angry ?"

"No. Scared maybe."

"Oh." she wondered. "Is he the jealous type ? He'll be afraid that I'll steal you from him ?"

"I'd rather be afraid that he'll steal you from me, I think he'll love you a lot. And that's why he'll be afraid for you. He'll think I want to eat your brain."

Sometimes she didn't understand everything he said, but she found him funny and considered that he simply had a particular sense of humor.

But after several months of talking to him, he finally ended up running into him while a guy was trying to take her purse in an alley.

Vee jumped from a rooftop, growled at the thief, grabbing him with one hand, before biting his head off. Then he turned to Y/N, smiling.

"Eddie, she's my friend."

"Y/N ?" a voice that seemed to come from inside him asked. "Great, Vee, she's not going to freak out at all because you just killed someone. I already told you to go get some chickens if you were hungry."

"You never let me do anything ! He was mean ! He was attacking my Y/N !"

"Let me talk to her, okay ? So I don't traumatize her more than necessary."

In the end, Venom was an alien, and Eddie his host, a man not as horrible as she had imagined, simply trying to keep his symbiote from doing too much mischief so that they wouldn't be spotted by the government.

They fought often but they couldn't live without each other. Literally for Venom, even if they also loved each other too much to want to be apart.

As he had expected, the human had panicked a bit when he learned that he had a friend, that she didn't really know what he was, and that they were therefore putting her in danger just by talking to her. But Eddie had understood that she was important. He had felt it.

When Vee said that they shared everything, he was dead serious.

"I showed him a picture of you. He got an erection."

"Vee !" Eddie shouted, trying to silence the head floating next to his shoulder. "Shut up ! Those are not things to say ! Excuse him."

"Why ? I like Y/N, and you like her too, and she likes us. Her pheromones don't lie."

"Vee ! You're making everyone uncomfortable, stop."

"See ? He never agrees, he controls everything."

Y/N saw clearly, now understanding many things that had seemed a bit strange to her. She could have run away, but despite this surprising discovery, she really liked Vee, and Eddie seemed as charming as he was.

So she suggested that they spend the next Halloween, all together this time.

[roseyodditea]

Sneak a Quick Kiss - Harumasa x gn!Reader

Summary -> 1.6k words. Established relationship. 2 moments where Harumasa remembers you have to hide your relationship, and 1 when he decides he's had enough.

Warnings -> A 'lil suggestive in the middle (marked and optional)

A/N -> I'll be honest, I didn't expect to like writing as much as I do and I've been getting more support than I ever thought I would. Thank you :)

Image taken from ZZZ Wiki

— Close Call #1 —

You looked out of the window into the H.A.N.D Headquarters Plaza, watching people walk leisurely. You were in an empty meeting room, one of the many shoved in a forgotten corner of the large office building. This meeting room was often forgotten about, which just made it perfect for your purpose. The purpose that Asaba Harumasa was currently late to. You sat down on one of the chairs, spreading the folder of paperwork, figuring you might as well do work instead of letting the folder be just a quick excuse to anyone curious of the meeting between you and Harumasa. 

You were analyzing a document heavy with black bars of redaction, holding up the paper to the light to read the name of the hollow that was hidden under the dark ink, Melinoe. You bite back a small giggle, realizing that Harumasa definitely shouldn’t have told you about it on your last secret date night. You continue on your data analysis work, still waiting for the very late man. You two had started this little routine over a month ago, a weekly (sometimes happening even two to four times a week) recurring meeting disguised as a debriefing of Section 6’s hollow data. The meeting's true purpose was known to no one, and you hoped to keep it that way.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a door closing, familiar arms draping over your shoulder, quick playful kisses being pepper across your cheeks. “Hey, darling~” Harumasa placed one more exaggerated kiss on your cheek before hiding his face in your hair. 

“You’re late.” You chide lightly, leaning back in the chair.

Harumasa huffed and let go of you, moving to instead sit on the table in the room, shoving aside some of the work you were doing. “Yanagi caused a meeting to run late despite both me and Miyabi wanting to get out of there as soon as possible.”

You stood up, moving to stand in front of him, a familiar hug playing out as you leaned your head on his shoulder, his arms resting securely on your lower back. “You’re still late. You’ll pay for that.”

“Will I now?” He said, his tone light and teasing, his hands sliding down your sides before he hoists you up on the table with him, your thighs straddling his lap. “What’s your price?”

“You have to host a dinner and movie night at your place, meaning you have to clean your apartment.” You giggle, leaning in a bit.

“Highway robbery, absolutely unfair price, what has the world come to?” He mutters back playfully before sealing your lips in a kiss. It was slow and patient, one of his hands cupping your cheek sweetly, the other on your lower back, keeping you close in his safe grasp. 

The sound of footsteps causes the kiss to break unceremoniously, you crawling off his lap immediately, moving quickly to sit in front of the papers you had set out, Harumasa scrambling to snatch up one of the papers to look busy as the door swung open, a janitor looking up surprised to see people in this forgotten about meeting room. 

“Oh sorry, are we in the way?”

— Close Call #2 —

(A/N) -> Make out scene contained betwixt the asterisks, feel free to skip if that's not your thing. Mwah mwah kissing, you get it.

***********************

Adrenaline pumped through Harumasa’s veins after a successful investigation in Melinoe, another large target successfully taken down. In this hyped up state, a lot of Harumasa’s rational thoughts when it came to you flew right out of the window, which was why you were currently pushed up against the wall of the parking garage outside of the H.A.N.D headquarters. You didn’t even care that the rough bricks of the wall were clinging to your clothes and your hair, how could you care when there were feverish touches and kisses being scattered across your body. 

Half gloved hands sliding up under the bottom of your shirt, tracing over your skin, desperately lips begging for more, wanting to celebrate this win with you. You haphazardly shoved off his bow and quiver, the sound of them clattering to the pavement beneath your feet not even reaching your ears, one of your hands moving to his tie, pulling and trying to loosen it in the heat of a moment. Harumasa didn't even care his beloved weapon was on the ground, instead moving to press his body even close, one his thighs moving between yours, wanting to be impossibly closer.

***********************

The sound of an “Enh-na!” caused the two of you to pull away from each other harshly with a pant, Harumasa looking down at the source of the sound. 

Agent Gulliver stared blankly, just holding up paperwork to you, the data analyst. His round eyes were unblinking, seemingly unaware of the situation he had just stumbled into. You and Harumasa were quiet for a few seconds before you reached out. “Uh… thank you, Agent Gulliver.” The bangboo saluted as you took it and walked off. 

Harumasa blinked a couple times. “He… He won’t tell anyone, right? Bangboo’s don’t gossip, do they?” You sighed, straightening up his tie before pushing him a bit off of you. “I’ll go pull his memory card. It’s standard for my reports. I’ll just… crop the video.” “Yeah thanks.” Harumasa scratched the back of his head. “We’ve got to be more careful.”

— Close Call #3 —

— Secret is Out —

You had told Harumasa not to push himself too hard, and what does he do? Run head first into battle without calling for backup, of course. He had it handled, but he was paying the consequences today, and of course you were sweet enough to give him company while he was holed up, miserable in his apartment. You swiped through the files on the tablet, a sleeping Harumasa laying in the bed next to you, his arm draped over your lap, holding you securely even in his sleep. An alarm buzzed and without looking up from the tablet, you shook Harumasa awake.

“Huh?” The tired man sat up, wiping the drool off of the corner of his mouth, smiling a bit when he saw you were in his bed.

“Second dose of medicine.” You replied without looking up, handing him one of the bottles. He opened it and placed one of the pills in his mouth, reaching across you to take your water and taking a couple big gulps. “Rude.” You scoff, finally looking up from your tablet.

He placed the cup back on the nightstand before grabbing the tablet, taking it from you and also placing it on the nightstand. “Your poor, sick boyfriend is suffering cold and alone in bed and you’re more focused on work?” He pouts as he pulls you to lay down with him, rather than sitting up.

“You’re only sick because you knowingly pushed your limits!” Your words had no real bite as you did, in fact, lay down with him.

“Your words wound me.” Harumasa cuddles close to you, his wheezing breath right next to your ear, but you didn’t mind, especially with the way one of his hands played with the hair at the base of your neck. “You know you don’t have to be here, right?” You let out a noise, not wanting to repeat this conversation yet again. “I love you, I want to be here, I’m not going anywhere.” You list quickly, and Harumasa didn't argue back, kissing your forehead. “I love you, too.” He whispered softly, his voice slightly hoarse. “And I love that you’re here.” The tender moment was interrupted by a knock at the door. “Oooh that’s probably our takeout.” You reluctantly get up out of his bed with a promise that you’d be right back. You opened the door holding the tip money, only to come face to face with quite possibly the worst person to see right now. “Yanagi?” You were going to ask something else, but your brain chugged when faced with this rather awkward situation.

“(y/n)?” Yanagi was honestly just as confused. “I didn’t know you and Harumasa were close.” Your silence was bordering on suspicious when you let out a polite, professional chuckle, very thankful you hadn’t changed into your pajamas yet and could still kind of pass this off as work. “I work very closely with Harumasa for my reports. A lot of the hollow data can be weird to work out so I often talk to him since he’s a really good scout. I just stopped by to grab some paperwork for him and I ended up helping him with a few things since he’s not feeling well today.” You lie through your teeth, but luckily Yanagi didn’t really seem to question it… or if she did she certainly didn’t let it be known.

“Ah, well I just wanted to drop off another set of folders for him to review. Soukaku tried to do his paperwork for him and I tried to read his handwriting through the scribbles and I wanted to double check it was accurate before I handed it in to you.” Yanagi offered politely.  

Harumasa, who you didn’t realize got out of bed, stood next to you, looking between you and Yanagi. He was tired, in pain, and frankly tired of hiding this relationship. It was his idea originally to keep the fans at bay, keep him out of hot water with the press, and make sure there wasn’t anything to report to HR, but seeing you try to cover up comforting your sick boyfriend with work? Absolutely not. He wrapped his arms around you from behind before placing a gentle kiss on your cheek, your body freezing as Harumasa looked at Yanagi from his hiding spot in your neck.

“Sorry, I’m off today!” He closed the door before dragging you back to bed with him.

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psssst I do, in fact, take requests. Okay thank you for reading <3

[ink-stainedkiss]

Boxer Katsuki Bakugo Headcannons ✧˖°

Boxer!Katsuki who finds it endearing that you research his opponents before his matches. While he doesn’t expect you, nor need you to, it shows how much you care about and support his career. In the car, if you give him a fact about the person he’s fighting, he’ll nod and accept the information. And sure, his manager and coach have already told him everything he needs to know, but he would never tell you that.

Boxer!Katsuki who always gets you into his games for free. No discussion. You walk in with the undefeated Dynamight, nobody is questioning you. The staff practically acts like you’re on the same level as Katsuki, but that’s because they know if they were to treat you rudely, Katsuki wouldn’t be too happy.

Boxer!Katsuki who lets you relax in his locker room. He loves practicing his moves while you watch, because you aren’t very subtle when you stare at his chest. Katsuki doesn’t complain though and he prides himself on how much you love his figure. He’ll add cocky comments now and then, telling you to quit gawking, but the threats are never truthful.

You sat on a foldable chair next to the wall of lockers as your boyfriend struck a large punching bag over and over. Sweat beaded down his forehead, making his blonde hair stick to the skin. Grunts and pants pushed their way out of his mouth and occasionally he would let out short growls. Even if you were ‘mindlessly scrolling on your phone’ you knew that Katsuki was sexy as hell. A smirk appeared on your face at the thought. Unknowingly, your boyfriend had caught you looking like a pervert at him and he slowed the swinging bag, raising a brow at your lost-in-thought face.

“Like what you see?” He teased from afar, noticing how you were torn from your thoughts and a small blush appeared on your face. You scoffed, going back to your phone that had turned off from lack of use,”I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He chuckled, obviously not believing you for a second,”You sure? ‘Cause it looks like you’re drooling over me.”

You looked up, glaring at the man, which he only found cute,”You’re clearly seeing things, maybe you want me to look at you.” Katsuki realized you wouldn’t accept your defeat and moved off of the platform, smirking as you didn’t look up from your screen. He removed one of his gloves and lifted your chin,”I’m just messing with you.” Before you could comment and deny, he locked his lips with yours, smiling just a bit as you melted against his mouth.

Boxer!Katsuki who doesn’t care if someone walks in during your guy’s make out sesh. You’ll stand next to him, blushing like crazy, and Katsuki won’t even bat an eye. He has his hand resting on your waist, listening to whatever the person had to say. He really doesn’t care about Pda and if he wants a kiss, he’s gonna get a kiss. In the beginning of your relationship, you often worried how the media would react to it, but after a certain game, Katsuki kissed you right in front of the cameras. He made it clear he didn’t give a shit what people thought about the two of you.

Boxer!Katsuki who finds it cute that you worry so much about him. He’s been boxing for years now and no one frets over his being as much as you do. When his manager tells him he has five minutes before entering the ring, he gives you a long kiss, then always expects you to tell him to be safe. If his opponent is known for being rough in the ring, then you are extra stressed out. You understand that there are paramedics for a reason and injuries are bound to happen, but you can’t stand to see Katsuki in pain.

Boxer!Katsuki who almost winds up late to the match because he forgets the time and can’t seem to leave without one more kiss. Though his manager gets annoyed, he could never ask you to leave, because if Katsuki heard of this, he would immediately drop him and find someone new to be his manager. Which wouldn’t be hard since people are already obsessed over his records and fame.

Boxer!Katsuki who searches for you in the crowd as he’s being introduced. Without failing, he’ll scan past the screaming and crazed fans and see you in the reserved area. Sometimes, you love having a little surprise for him as he walks out. Since he’s portrayed as a big bad boxer, you like making him chuckle by making large cardboard cutouts of his face and waving them around proudly.

Boxer!Katsuki who fights like an underdog coming to their senses and finally realizing their strength. And it’s all for you. He hits hard and fast, making sure when the ref breaks them up, he sneaks a glance at you and your astonished face.

Boxer!Katsuki who if he does end up with a small injury after the fight, like a nose bleed or his face burning up, never goes to the provided nurses, instead he lets you take care of him. Before you met Katsuki you had taken some medical classes for small things and injuries, so he sees you as a perfect nurse for him.

You had been sitting in the locker room for a while now, resting in the nicer area with a small tv and a large couch. When the door opened, you quickly looked over, gasping softly as you took notice of your boyfriend. He was wearing a bedazzled robe with his title on the back and still in his gloves but you were only focusing on the scarlet liquid dripping from his nose. Instantly you rise from the couch, grabbing his hand and yanking him to the wash room,”I didn’t see your nose start bleeding out there.”

He had a lazy smile as you walked around the bathroom, taking immediate action for something so small,”It started in the hallway and I knew you would help me.” You huffed, knowing he could easily clean it himself, but he needed you to do it. Although, you would be lying if you said you didn’t love seeing him watch you with such adoring eyes.

He leaned against the counter, arms crossed and you retried a small cotton pad and alcohol. You got to work, using the dry gauze to soak up any of the fresh blood,”You did good out there.” The boxer chuckled under his breath, wrapping an arm around your waist to drag you closer,”Just good?” You tossed the cotton into a small bin beside the two of you, smirking at his words,”Well, I can’t boost your ego that much.”

The blonde’s grin grew and leaned in for a kiss, but you put a finger up, pushing him away,”You still have blood all over you.” He frowned, suddenly not liking his bloodied nose. Fortunately for Katsuki, it didn’t take long for you to wipe away the dried substance that had gotten as far as his collarbone.

Once you were done, you put away the supplies and finally you cupped his cheeks, pulling him into a slow kiss. Alas, it didn’t last long as you felt his face was hot to the touch.

Boxer!Katsuki who rested his head in your lap, a cold rag across his forehead, and talked on about the fight from his perspective. You watched him dreamily, humming in response to his words, and you played with his messy golden locks. All you could really think about was how the media would react if they found out their scary champion, who had just K.O’d his opponent an hour earlier, enjoyed being pampered by his loving girlfriend.