Trick Or Treat! Can I Get A Treat With Mephistopheles From Obey Me?

trick or treat! can i get a treat with mephistopheles from obey me? 🍬

"this is an... odd tradition you have in the human realm," mephistopheles murmurs stiffly, snapping another photo with the professional camera in his hands.

"why? the devildom has haunted houses."

"in the devildom, haunted houses aren't so... juvenile."

click! another photo, this time focused on the ambient lighting outside the entrance of the spooky attraction you'd brought him to. he lowers the camera from his eye and looks around once more.

"well, at least give it a try first before you write it all off. c'mon."

fair enough. mephisto follows you into the haunted house, lingering a little closer than he usually would. why? it's a question he ponders himself as the two of you stroll side by side through unimpressive decorations and flashing lights inside this pseudo-maze.

you're human. utterly, completely insignificant. in the grand scheme of it all, you'll be six feet under within a century. if he blinks too long, you'll be a withered like a rotten apple on the ground in autumn, waiting to become one with the dirt from which you rose.

and yet-- mephisto moves a little closer.

a scare actor pops out from around the corner. you jump in surprise, shrieking and clutching onto his sleeve as you're startled. he's startled, too-- not by the actor (he saw that jumpscare coming a mile away), but by your decision to cling on to him in a moment of fear and irrationality. suddenly this boring attraction feels a little warmer than it did before.

"is that all it takes to scare you, human?" mephisto asks smugly. "i should have realized a lowly creature like yourself could be scared so easily."

despite his harsh words, the usual bite of a bitter tone was absent, replaced by something almost... fond? he was surprised to hear it himself.

maybe you would be gone in the blink of an eye-- humans, after all, are very fragile. but mephisto is starting to see something in you, something deeper than the surface that he initially brushed off. is this why diavolo adores you so?

"come," he beckons. his gloved hand finds your bare wrist and tugs you close, coaxing you against his side as you continue to walk through the haunted house. "let's keep going."

KNEW BETTER — e42!miles x fem!reader

SUMMARY. the alluring pull of a stranger entices you to make a risky decision all too familiar to your last WORD COUNT. 3,754 CONTENTS. miles and reader are in their late teens for realistic purposes, language, brief mention of a kiss, my attempt at an adequate plot and characterizations that actually have substance SONG INSPO. “knew better/forever boy” by ariana grande AUTHOR’S NOTE. i currently have no plans to take this further but inspiration struck and i had to write it lolll

How did you end up here?

Sticking out like a sore thumb on the roof top of a family party that definitely wasn’t yours, though they’d started to feel like it in the last few months. It’s not like your family would be mature enough to come together, put their pride aside for five minutes, and get along the way these people were. And after your parents’ separation became official earlier this year, negotiation was way out of the question. This distraction from the chaos you left back home was more than welcomed.

Your friend’s hand was starting to pale from how hard you were clutching onto it, yet you didn’t notice. The music was loud and a little upbeat for your taste, but you slightly bobbed your head to it anyway, a mindless thing you found yourself doing regardless of whether you could understand the lyrics to the song or not. There's no way you’d be caught dead at a party looking as if you didn’t have at least an ounce of rhythm.

Noticing your nerves, as well as the growing ache of her fingers, your friend Camila turned her head to the side, her silky, chestnut brown tresses flowing over her shoulder when she shouted over the bass of the speakers.

“Don’t be nervous! They’re all real nice, I promise!”

"Camila—" barely hearing what she said, you stopped for a second to give a sweet smile to an older lady who passed you, then softly tugged her arm to get her attention. “Can’t we just, stay in that cute little corner over there with the—“ you paused. “What are those— enchiladas?”

“Empanadas.” She corrected with a lighthearted eyeroll, her Queen’s accent heavy on her tongue. “And no way! I want you to meet everyone.”

"Everyone—wait what?” Your eyes bulged. You probably resembled a looney-tunes character at the moment. “I thought I’d officially met everyone last month at the uhh— the fuckin—“ You made a wafting motion with your hands, as if it’d prompt your brain to get your thoughts out as quickly as the two of you were walking. “The Heritage Month BBQ, thingy?”

This was the first time the doe-eyed girl had stopped to look at you throughout your walk through the venue—like, actually look at you—and of course it was only to laugh at your ridiculous observation. She nearly doubled over.

“Ha!- Yeah, nah. That was a funny joke though.” she giggled. “That was family family. This is family and family friends. So basically, more family. You know that!”

Oh yeah. Makes complete sense. Family didn’t even sound like a word anymore at this point, you thought to yourself as she pulled the both of you to a stop at the drink table.

You and Camila had been friends ever since the second grade. The girl had the prettiest hazel eyes and the longest, shiniest hair you'd ever seen. Since time she’s liked to refer to herself as the “Puerto Rican-Filipina Rapunzel", and though the term she’d come up with was a bit of a mouthful, you’d be lying if you tried to disagree.

She’d waltzed up to your secluded spot at indoor recess in Mrs. Walter’s class, demanded the two of you be friends, and even gave you a pink Hello Kitty sticker to accompany her proposition.

And seeing as you couldn’t remember much before that, you really couldn’t remember a time when Camila wasn’t in your life, either. Protecting you from anyone who might have anything to say about her bestfriend, and always quick to step in front of you and get in someone’s face about it, even if the someone in question was a burly 6’3 football player who had to crane his neck to look down at who was cursing him out a mile a minute.

If people saw Camila, they saw you, too. That’s just how the two of you rolled. And yeah, you’d been to more than a few family parties, slapped on some low-waisted, bejeweled miss-me jeans and boots to fit in with the dress code, and attended a few bailes even though you couldn’t dance for shit. But you’d never been to a gathering of theirs that was this large. What was the occasion?

As you watched her scoop a ladle of some sort of homemade drink mix into a red solo cup, you realized you’d unintentionally asked the question in your head.

“So, what’s the big occasion?” You took in your surroundings, noting how happy everyone looked.

“Ah, my aunt finished her M.D program, or somethin’ like that. Basically, she’s gonna be a real big doctor soon, so you know we had to party. My cousin invited me."

“Mm,” you nodded stalely, accepting the cup she quickly pushed into your hand before she went to pour another for herself.

“Speaking of my cousin…”

There was a mischievous glint in Camila’s eyes. Was mischevious the right word? Maybe excited, but either way, you didn’t like it one bit.

Mid sip, you slowly lowered your drink from your lips, eyes narrowing at her in suspicion.

“Camila Janaé Reyes. What are you plotting?”

“Nothingggg!”

Judging by that tone, it was definitely not nothing.

“I just want you to meet him, that’s all.” Her words drawled as she gave you one of her sickeningly sweet smiles, and you whined like a child who’d just been asked to put a coat on before leaving the house.

“Seriously, ‘Mila? That’s why you invited me?”

“No! Well… Kinda?” she grimaced.

Your bestfriend could be quite persistent, especially with specific things others didn’t want her to be persistent with. Every human on this earth had a trait that irritated someone or made them slightly less favorable, and of course, that trait is almost impossible to recognize in yourself.

This—the overbearing persistence, the thinking that she knew better for everyone than they did themselves—was Camila’s, and it irked you to your core like no other.

“Camila, I told you, no boys. I don’t even think I have it in me after..." The rest of the sentence died on your tongue as your hand came up to pinch the bridge of your nose, prompting Camila to give you a knowing head nod. With her, you didn’t even have to finish the thought.

“I know, I know,” she said. “But his mom’s been a little worried about how quiet he’s gotten and asked if I could bring someone for him to talk to. So, I thought maybe you guys could be friends or something. That’s it! He don’t got many, and you—well…”

You almost cracked a smile at that, even though you were still annoyed with her. “Don’t finish that sentence.”

You somehow found it in you to let your guard down a bit, which, in theory, would probably come back to bite you in the ass later. You just didn’t know how soon that would be the case.

Your shoulders slumped, a telltale sign of you ready to throw in the towel, just this once like you always did. Camila was already getting excited.

“Alright, alright. Who’s your cousin?”

The petite girl rolled her lips inward to bite back a wide grin, and instead of answering you, she slid beside you and slunk her arm around your shoulders. Her neck stretched for a second as she scanned the lively gathering, her eyes widening once she found who she was scouting for.

She gestured with her chin, not wanting to make it obvious.

“See that guy by himself over there? Like, six foot two, wide shoulders, lowkey thinks he’s Batman, kinda gotta mug on him? He’s nice though, swear. When he wants to be.”

You squinted into the distance. “Uhh… I think that’s a woman, ‘Mila.”

She gasped at that, shoving your shoulder hard enough to almost make you stumble. “No not my Tia Beatriz, you bitch!”

“Oh shit—“

A laugh tore through your apology before you could stop it, and the girl next to you made a sound with her throat that was clearly her trying to hold back her own laughter.

"Idiota," she mumbled.

Two hands clamped down on your shoulders before you felt your body shift to the side a bit, someone else coming into view once your perspective changed.

“I’m talkin’bout him.”

The last time you could recall your heart dropping into your ass at this same rate was when your mom caught you trying to stuff your bra in the sixth grade before the bus arrived. And somehow, that feeling still wasn’t comparable to this.

This—this was much different.

“Y’see him?”

How could you not?

A little ways down, casually leaned back on an elbow at the tall edge of the roof, stood a lanky-looking, brownskinned boy who was far too handsome for his own good. Clad in a fitted black shirt and a cropped leather jacket, you could tell that piece of clothing alone cost more than your entire outfit. He was rocking some straight-legged, black cargo pants and a pair of Air Jordan 1’s you’d never seen before. There was a jaded look plastered on his face, and something about his body language led you to believe that he was forcing himself to be here.

You swallowed,

“That’s your cousin?”

Camila’s insanely, good looking, cousin, if you hadn’t mentioned that already. Not even her older brother was this fine. This boy put the childish crush you had on Luis to absolute shame.

“Mm-hm.”

Your gaze alternated back and forth between her and the boy in the distance. "But, you guys don’t—“

“Yeah, yeah, I know. We get that a lot, big family.” She waved you off, probably having heard this a million times.

Her posture suddenly straightened with newfound determination, and it made your heart jump.

“Well, what are we just standin’ here for? Let’s go-“

“Nope. Nuh uh.”

Camila’s head recoiled when she raised a questioning brow at you. “Fuck you mean ‘nuh uh’?”

You balked at her as if the answer were obvious.

“I am not talking to that man!”

“Well why not?” she asked incredulously.

“Because he is fine as hell, are you crazy? I ain’t got no business goin’ over there.” You don’t know why you were lowering your voice; it’s not like he’d be able to hear you over the music anyway.

But, just by a stroke of luck, he suddenly looked up, probably due to the sweltering heat of your eyes dissecting his entire persona.

“Anddd now he’s looking at me. Oh my god,” you whisked around as casually as you could play off, fingers pressed to your hot forehead as you cursed beneath your breath.

His line of sight was cast in your direction, and though he could’ve been looking right past you, which was simply wishful thinking on your end, that was a chance you absolutely weren’t going to take.

“Yeah, he’s always able to catch people staring. I don't know how he does it… And s’kinda weird now that I think about it…” Camila mumbled distractedly to herself, her pondering eyes drifting skywards. A sharp elbow to her side, yours to be exact, was enough to pull her out of her observation and earn you a pained whine.

“Focus! What do I do now? He probably thinks I’m a creep.” you groaned.

A puff of amused air blew from her nose. “Yeah, I doubt that. He’s a bit of an odd ball himself.”

That definitely did nothing to make you feel better.

“Besides, he don’t bite,"

Your feet weren’t moving on your own accord as you began walking; it was Camila tugging you out of your in-plain sight hiding spot and towards the very boy you were just marveling at.

“I think.” she added.

“Camila, I really don’t think this is a good idea—“

Through the rush of the brief murmur-screamed argument you had with her, the walk over to him was surprisingly much shorter than your brain had estimated it to be. And of course, ever the gentleman with perfect manners, the boy in question clicked his phone off and tucked it away in his front pocket once he saw the both of you approaching him.

Camila put on her sweetest voice, and albeit a bit annoying, her intentions were pure.

“Heyyy, Miles! How are you?”

Miles. That’s a cute name. Or is it only cute because I think he’s cute? Fuck, I’m spacing out, aren’t I?

The light baritone in his voice edged you to believe that it was the latter.

“Hey cous’, I’m straight.”

Miles was talking to Camila, but he was staring dead at you while he did, as if he was purposely trying to send you into a terribly premature fit of cardiac arrest.

He had a solemn look to him; face hardened with faint frown lines that seemed a bit unfitting for his age. The only resemblance these two shared was the striking allure of hazeled eyes and how they were both able to have people lost in them without even trying. There was an energy that radiated from him—something about his presence that you felt a pull towards. It wasn’t intimidating, or brooding, no. It was more on the lines of intoxicating. And it didn’t necessarily make you uncomfortable, per se, but the fact that you couldn’t pinpoint the exact feeling his stare was giving you most definitely did.

It was a known fact that you couldn’t hold eye contact for shit, and an observing Miles easily picked up on that after the third time your eyes had darted back and forth between his own and any random object you could keep your attention on. So, when he finally decided to spare you and directed them towards his chirpy cousin instead, you felt like you could finally breathe again and stole an embarrassingly deep inhale that nearly made you lightheaded.

“So wassup, who’s this?” Miles motioned towards you with a slight tilt of his head, hands nonchalantly planted in the pockets of his jacket.

Now that the focus was off you for a second, you used this to your advantage and took a moment to get a good, close look at him.

Everything about him was clean cut and neat—strategic. From his sharp, tapered hairline that was so precise that not a single strand of hair was out of place, to the tidy twin braids that kissed his shoulders, and even down to his shoes. They were crisp, and looked like he’d taken them right out the box before he came here, but you could tell that wasn’t the case. It was clear from the way he carried himself and the fresh ass silver cuban link hanging round his neck that he simply cared about his appearance enough to keep them that way.

“This,” A subtle, yet intentional squeeze to your right arm brought you back to the conversation. “is Y/n, my bestfriend. I don’t think she’s met you yet, so I just thought I’d introduce the two of you.”

He didn’t even nod. You weren’t even sure if he blinked. All he gave was a vague,

“Mm.”

What the fuck did that mean? Was that a good mm, or a bad mm?

Your ruminating was interrupted when Camila quietly murmured something to Miles that you couldn’t quite make out, her eyes hard in warning.

“Sé amable y no hagas nada estúpido. De verdad.” (Be nice and don’t do anything stupid. For real.)

He kissed his teeth at that, an indistinct irritation lingering in his tone at the latent reprimanding. “Nunca hago nada estúpido.” (I never do anything stupid.)

Brows bunched in confusion, your lashes fluttered in annoyance upon realizing it was their intent to keep you out of the brief exchange.

“Well,” Camila clapped her hands. “I’ll leave y’all kids to it! I need to go grab some of those pinchos before they’re all gone.” Both you and Miles sent an irked look her way when she gave a cheesy thumbs up and dipped.

It was just the two of you now, and since names were already out of the way, you hadn’t the slightest idea of where to start. But the worry didn’t last long; Miles was the first to speak up, which you were more than grateful for.

“So, how you know my cousin again?” His brow peaked. “Don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

Miles was good with faces—excellent, actually. He spent a lot of time people watching; knew most of Brooklyn by now, and he definitely wouldn’t have forgotten a face like yours. So he let his eyes drink you in from head to toe, committing you to memory. And damn, he sure picked a good day to be social.

You tried to focus on your answer instead of the glint of his earrings or the sharp of his jaw when his head turned to the side, so you settled on studying the buildings that lined the magenta-stained skyline in the distance.

“Well, there’s not much to it, really. I met her in the second grade, and she said we were bestfriends now, no questions asked. Guess it’s been that way ever since.” you shrugged.

“Yeah, sounds like her," he chuckled, shifting to rest both his elbows on the ledge as his back leaned against it. “She can be a little—“

“Persistent?” you interjected knowingly, a small smile painting your features.

“Shit, you tellin’ me," he snorted. “I guess that’s a nicer way to put it.”

Miles picked his cup up from where he’d previously set it down and took a swig. So far, this conversation wasn’t nearly as grueling as he’d expected it to be, and shockingly enough, he might’ve even been enjoying your company.

But unknown to you, this wasn’t the first time Miles had been introduced to one of Camila’s friends. He’d met probably three of them at this point, and honestly, he was a little over his cousin trying to throw him a bone he didn’t ask for. Did he entertain them? Possibly, for fun. Though it’s not like he actually enjoyed their presence. But there was something intriguing about you that he didn’t pick up on with the others, and he was starting to wonder what was in this punch.

“Hol’ on,” a curious look crossed his face. “You from Queens, right?”

“Mhm, grew up in the same building as Camila and everything. Why?”

“You’on really sound like it, that’s all.” he noted. Poking at the inside of your cheek with your tongue, you battled with an answer.

“Yeah, I… go back and forth, a lot.” You gave a half-hearted smile, in which he responded to with a simple nod.

Your brows furrowed as a sudden realization dawned on you.

“Y’know, now that I think about it... I don’t think I’ve ever seen you, either. You don’t come around often, do you?”

“Mm,” His lips pushed into an upturned frown—that thing people usually did when someone wasn’t far from being correct. He gave a shadowy answer and changed the subject.

“You could say that. Camila’s brought you to one of these before, I’m guessing?”

“Mm-hm, all the time.” You nodded, swirling around the fizzy liquid in your cup. “I usually chill with the elders, though.”

“Heard that.” Miles understood you completely, the corner of his mouth lifting into a lopsided smile.

Now that you’d had the chance to actually speak with him, he wasn’t nearly as aloof as you’d presumed him to be.

“This your mom’s party?”

“Yes ma'am." he hummed.

You took a quick breath in through your nostrils, and Miles almost laughed at how much one word affected you.

"So..." Your eyes cautiously dragged their way over to him. “Why aren’t you celebrating with everyone else?”

Your tone was careful. Like you already knew your question was personal.

His jaw tensed for a beat and his smile dimmed a little, but he was shrugging and back to his coolheaded mien before you could make any inferences on how your question might’ve made him feel.

“Just like bein’ by my lonely, I guess. Better this way.”

Every human on this earth had a trait that irritated someone or made themselves slightly less favorable, and this was yours. Asking intimate questions too soon, unintentionally trying to uproot information about someone’s life through the innocent curiosity that usually got you into trouble.

“S’ain’t really my kind of vibe anyway." he admitted with a flippant gesture toward the party.

You mindlessly fiddled with the charm bracelet dangling from your wrist.

“And what’s your ‘kind of vibe?’”

It was a genuine question. Honest. You knew his confession came in passing, yet that didn’t deter you from wondering what he was thinking when he said it.

Miles’ aureate gaze floated to your person, and you watched as he studied your features. Eyes flitting between the both of yours, as if he were trying to get a read on you without having to ask.

You relaxed a little when he finally cracked a mirth-kissed grin.

“You just full of questions, huh?” he teased, a glint in his eye.

Somewhere in the midst of this conversation, his body had turned towards yours, and you hadn’t noticed until now that he was facing you completely. You looked to him with the same intensity he gave you and played right back.

“You could say that.”

There were a few seconds of internal struggle, seen in the way he fought to pull his gaze away. Teeth biting at the inside of his cheek like he needed a taste of pain to remind him to behave. But, when he caught sight of the way you were looking at him, that little voice in the deep of his mind wasn’t nearly loud enough for him to listen to it.

Licking at his dry lips, he knew better, but he asked anyway with an appetent tilt of his head.

“You wanna get outta here?”

—

Now how did you end up here?

Party forgotten like an old toy on Christmas morning. A newfound agenda on your mind and a new pair of lips on yours to match.

You knew good and well that the question he asked didn’t entail stepping away from the party to get a breath of clean air; in fact, you were finding it quite difficult to breathe right about now.

Huh, and here you thought he was a gentleman.

And Miles was fully aware that this was probably a bad idea, but when he wanted something, it was as if tunnel vision clouded any chance of better judgement.

Every human on this earth had a trait that irritated someone or made them slightly less favorable, and Miles was not excluded from this verity.

Starting things he knew he wouldn’t finish, was his.

lie detector test w influencer or actor y/n and bkg. Asking all the juicy questions either to each other or from the interviewer. From like Twitter questions/interviewer it would def be juicy funny questions like “who do you think is a better kisser” or some shit and from each other it’s like “do you actually get annoyed when I ___” and just overall gossipy but so funny to see each other intrigued by the answer lol

LIE DETECTOR TEST

cw: okay so fuck me because i wrote this and then it didn’t save as a draft so back again. FAVE TYPE OF FICS ARE THE YOUTUBERY JOINT VIDEO INTERVIEWS !!! LOVE THEM !!!!! edit: fank u to those who helped me with the questions !! my brain was not working

bakugou would hate them. he doesn’t get worried about many things, he usually always has his strength and skills to back him up in most cases. but sharing actual intimate feelings, thoughts and opinions with the world isn’t his thing. he likes the way the public only knows what he lets them know though he also knows your questions are gonna push him far out of his comfort zone.

you’re both wearing the same designer. it’s part of the shoot with the magazine and you look stunning. bandeau top and maxi skirt. while he’s in an easy cream linen shirt and black slacks.

“y’look beautiful,” he says to you, honest and true. he drags your hand onto his lap when the makeup artist that was patting your face finally leaves.

“thanks gorgeous but don’t try and butter me up now. i’ve got all my questions ready,” you grin and bakugou answers by pecking your lips.

“you’re not gonna try ruin my name are you?” he smirks and you only shrug.

“maybe.”

he’s strapped up first. velcro bands at his arms and chest. apparently they’re checking his heartbeat and blood pressure. wires at his temples and scattered all over his skin. honestly it reminds him similarly of a mission he was on a few years back and when he was captured but he pushes that to the back of his mind.

“hello everyone! i’m yn and this is—,”

“katsuki.” always katsuki with you in interviews. on his own he’s dynamight. the thought makes your chest heat.

“and we are doing the lie detector test! katsuki’s already wired up so i’m going to be asking some raw, hard hitting questions.”

bakugou’s eyebrows raise and you know he’s dying to say an inappropriate innuendo. you both blink at each other before you burst out laughing and he smirks.

“yeah, what she said.”

the first one is easy but it’s what you want to hear. you already know the answer, you’re sure the whole world does since this isn’t something he keeps a secret.

“do you love me?”

bakugou grins at you. you’re holding a clip board, eyes bright at excitement towards him and he soaks it all up.

“no. not at all,” he says. he sort of regrets it right after because he sees a hint of disappointment behind your eyes. it’s not like he tells you daily and you’ve been together for a year now.

john, the lie detector guy shakes his head behind you. “he’s lying. a lot. his heart rate is high.”

bakugou flexes his fingers, looking down at them, “just checkin’ this shit works.”

you kick his foot, “don’t lie about that!”

bakugou drops his head onto his shoulder, slow smirk, “you know i love you though?”

a rare bakugou katsuki for the viewers. even the crew is leaning in to know more.

you’re all overwhelmed by his attention, whispering a tiny, “shut up.” then, “@dynamiteforever212, dynamite spelt the right way, asks who do you prefer? deku or yn.”

bakugou scoffs, “obviously you. you’re both annoyin’ though, especially together.”

you fake a gasp, hand to your mouth, “you’re jealous of our beautiful friendship.”

“yeah, no. i think i have more benefits with you than he does.”

you chuckle, “you’re so annoying. next question, @virtualizated asks would you be okay waxing my ass hair?”

bakugou breathes out heavy through his nose, not expecting that question. “no. you should keep it.”

you cover your grin with your mouth, “you’re so silly.”

john speaks, “erm, answer is inconclusive.”

you turn back to katsuki, “you’re lying?”

bakugou shakes his head, “yes i would wax your ass. yes you should keep it.”

“you’re nasty.”

“just for you,” he grins and you roll your eyes.

“he’s telling the truth.”

“do you genuinely think you love me more than i love you?”

bakugou scoffs. this is a conversation you have a lot in your relationship. a cute ‘love you’ ‘love you more’ exchange gone wrong. he knows what the truth is and you’re wrong.

“yeah i do. i do. you don’t get it.”

“he’s telling the truth.”

“see it’s true, i do.”

you frown, “no that just means your head’s so big you think you’re right.” you look at the cameras, pointing at bakugou with your thumb, “i love him more.”

he stares down the camera lens, “she’s wrong. i do.”

“we aren’t doing this again.”

“you brought it up baby.”

“just checking you’re still delusional.”

“sure i am.”

you flick through your cards, “@moominsuki asks, do you think i’m more attractive than you?”

bakugou rolls his eyes. these questions feel obvious, don’t the viewers have eyes?

“of fuckin’ course you are. you seen her? you seen yourself?” he points at you, “i pray to whoever’s up there daily that you keep me around another day.”

your smile fights it’s way onto your cheeks and you feel your body getting warm from his attention.

“he’s telling the truth.”

“you say that like you aren’t completely gorgeous.”

“but babe, we’re not the same. i know i’m not ugly but you’re actually different.”

you bite down on your lip before letting go. he tells you this at home but having an audience to this conversation makes you shy. “good different?”

he nods and there’s no room for you to disagree, “miles away from me. good different.”

you both stare each other for a few seconds, him looking longingly, a tilt of his cheek while you can’t stop fidgeting. you look away abruptly, “okay, n-next question!”

“have you been jealous of anyone recently?”

this time bakugou isn’t as quick to answer so already you know the answer.

he groans, throwing his head back but not being able to move from being strapped in the chair. “how are you askin’ me questions you already know the answer to?”

“because when i asked you before, you denied it.”

bakugou tongues the inside of his cheek. looking at you then away. he’s sexy when he’s stubborn. tense jaw, intriguing frown. even his muscles bulge when he crosses his arm across his chest.

“yes i have been.”

you smirk, “when?”

“oi, let’s wait for john to answer.”

you roll your eyes, “john?”

“he’s telling the truth.”

bakugou grunts, “fucker.”

you laugh, “okay when?”

“i’m sure you’re not even allowed this many questions,” he mutters but he still gives in anyway, “when we had that dumb hero event and that guy started flirtin’ with you.”

you roll your lips in your mouth, loving the entertainment, “why were you jealous when you know i love you?”

bakugou blushes, red flushing his neck and the apples of his cheeks. “i am not admitting this in front of the cameras.” he jolts his head to them and you watch all the crew studying you both, eager for an answer.

you cross your arms, “fine.”

“dynamight, could you? just for editing sake?” a staff member chips in and you do too, “come on dynamight!”

he huffs, closing his eyes before opening them, “he looked similar to your ex boyfriend, who i look nothing alike.”

you pout, rubbing your hand across his thigh, “and you know i love you, that’s an irrational thought and—,”

“you’ll always choose me. yeah i know. you all happy now?”

you and the camera crew all begin to nod.

trick or treat!!! can i get something for solomon, maybe doing some halloween traditions with reader? could be platonic or romantic, whichever you prefer lol. thank you and happy halloween!! 👻🍬

note: this takes place during the nightbringer timeline. don't ever assume i won't JUMP at the chance to write solomon playing househusband (said in jest)

"should i enchant these? i can have them scream at anyone who approaches the porch. we'll save a fortune on our candy budget."

you chide solomon loudly, and he lets out a devious little giggle in response. his cape flutters behind him as you urge him back inside-- the last thing you need is to start rumors about cocytus hall while you're still stuck living there.

"alright," he starts up again once you're safely inside. "that's pumpkin carving and our final decorations finished."

"... and that's after i made the treats for that halloween party this weekend."

"why couldn't i help with that again? it looked like a lot of fun."

"i needed you to buy candy for the trick-or-treaters, remember? it was a very important task, and i was right to trust you! you did so well." you sell your excuse with a smile. solomon's cheeks grow rosy at your praise, and he smiles right back at you.

"i suppose i like when i you trust me so much." he begins to mumble to himself as his mind wanders. "the costumes are ready upstairs for later this week... yeah, i think that's everything."

"i can't think of anything else," you agree.

"so..."

"so?"

"what now?"

"did you have something in mind?"

solomon's grin sharpens the tiniest bit as he takes your face into his lukewarm palms. "i'm sure we could entertain ourselves accordingly. like, maybe--"

"-- watching scary movies and snuggling on the couch?" whatever flirtatious remark he had waiting for you dies on his tongue at your suggestion. he seems pleased, though-- his cheeks flush at your boldness.

"that's... nice, actually. i'd like that." a grin. "feel free to hold on to me if you get scared, though."

your eyes narrow suspiciously. "if i do, you'll use that as an excuse to scare me more often."

"maybe so. just think of it as another halloween tradition to add to the list."

"ugh. i don't want to watch a movie with you anymore," you groan, spinning on your heel to playfully scurry off so solomon'll chase after you.

"wait! mc! i was just kidding!"

here and there, about him.

summary: is he perfect? no, just like anyone else. but there will always be something about him. (aka a snippets of one of many, many things he will do for you.)

notes: missing lovesick bllk boys trope for a hot minute while doing other stuffs. short and light stuffs to scratch the itch. was about to isagi and nagi, but turns out self control is still a thing for me. warning: none, just minor swearing + fluffs capital f of smitten boys, chigiri is ready to fight for you. reader's gender unspecified.

characters: rin, chigiri, kaiser.

itoshi rin is very, very much very obvious in his favoritism to you. so obvious that both his teammates and his brother told him to tone it down a little bit. of course, rin only scoffs and tell them to mind their own business (actually he said it more as ’fuck off, cretins’, but details). but, really, no one could exactly blame them. this guy could be in an ongoing tirade of how person a is an utterly pathetic soggy wet trash, then you greet him with a smile and he turns into a cold, suave, rich boyfriend in a snowy winter day. drape his jacket on you, hold your hand, let you hug him from behind while discreetly intertwining your finger with his type of stuffs. it’s a bit disgusting, honestly. and no one wants to start commenting on how he immediately looks at your direction after scoring a goal. also if he buys something, the only one who has the slightest bit of hope of ever receiving anything is his brother here—and that chance is very miniscule on its own since none of them are you. put simply, it’s a bit infuriating, yet undeniably infuriatingly cute in its own way to watch. especially when there is a very high chance you will be the one and only romance this anti social guy will ever have. everyone in the team supports the two of you, but by gods maybe please do something about him a little bit?

chigiri hyoma would never let anyone hurt you. it’s common knowledge already that he takes no shit from anyone and ever since he saw you as ‘the one’, he pretty much already thinks of you as an inseparable part of his life already. so, in other words, that means you have gotten yourself a boyfriend who is ready to became a biting guard dog at moments notice. someone insults you? tries to physically harms you? oh, baby, held your boyfriend back because he is also known to get angry real quick. save his reputation and held himself back from spouting words that would make someone’s ancestor cry or, worse, beat someone up. this is a speedster athlete trained by ego jinpachi himself—no one could escape unscathed from something like that. but hey, this is someone who naturally turns into a shoujo manga male lead with soft gazes and flowery smile the moment you put a hand on his cheek. this is, in a way, just another way for him to protect and make sure of your comfort. also, he needs to have an outlet for the less soft part somewhere other than soccer.

michael kaiser is very reliable and observant, despite whatever persona or deflection he will give you even in the ‘official already’ part of your relationship. this guy got a high ego and put on an air of someone high and mighty, beyond your league. but everyone all know if you got to the part where he proudly let you wore his clothes or make sure you stay pressed to his side during walks, he is down bad. still, for his sake and maybe everyone else’s, let him take care of you and act casual about it. don’t point it out when he suddenly crouch down and tie your untied shoelaces, keep talking as if nothing happened when he put a hand in the small of your back, and just act as if nothing happen when he gave someone a ferocious glare while making sure you cling unto his arm. don’t praise or, god forbid, swoon at those. it will only make him get flustered and lose his composure or, worse, get real annoying. he is indeed good at the whole act of service thing, surprisingly, but please do remember his attitude is indeed also in the ‘piece of shit’ category most of the time. just let the yellow and blue betta fish swim at his own pace and let what means to happen in the future, happen at its own time, including giving praises to him without him reacting like a lovesick brat.

miles “i got it” morales earth 42 miles 591 words

Between the both of you, Miles is always the first to stand up when the bell rings at the end of class. With all the textbooks you bring to school, he knows your backpack is just one mechanical pencil away from hitting a ton and for that reason he never lets you carry it yourself. In fact, he makes it his mission to pick it up before you do. With his own backpack on one shoulder, he’ll watch for the exact moment you’re done tucking your supplies away just to interrupt you as you’re mid-reach so he can scoop it up into his free hand by the top handle.

“I got it.”

Miles always pays for you guys’ dates. You knew this wasn’t abnormal when it came to relationships, seeing as he’s the guy, you’re the girl, and that’s just the ‘societal norm’ or whatever. It’s how your dad told you a male should treat the girl he’s with, and based off how Miles acts, you assumed his own father had given him the same speech as well before he passed. But even when you two take a stroll to the corner store to pick up some cheap snacks for a study session—the total coming out to as little as $4.37 for some sunchips and sour gummy worms—he still won’t let you pay.

He’s already getting his wallet out before the cashier can read the total off. And when you try and protest, he’s all—

“I got it.”

When your laces have come undone and you hadn’t noticed.

“Ma, your shoe’s untied.”

You’ll stop in your tracks and look down at your loosened laces, prepared to hand your phone off to him so you can bend down to tie them, and like always—

“I got it.”

When the pizza you ordered an hour ago finally shows up at the door and you get the ‘arrived’ notification on your phone—which he’s already seen because he’s always looking over your shoulder as you scroll your time away on tiktok, watching them with you as an excuse to be all up on you—you can bet your life on what his response will be.

“I got it.”

You knew he only wanted to be a gentleman, but at this point, you were convinced ‘I got it’ was his middle name instead of Gonzalo.

For a while now, Miles has felt like he has to take responsibility and do everything even when something isn’t asked of him, and you wanted him to know that same sentiment didn’t have to apply to the two of you. So you started trying to beat him at his own game.

Brushing past him and rushing down the concrete steps of his apartment building to make it to the passenger side door and open it for yourself before he can.

Keeping your backpack on the opposite side of your desk so you can have the chance to pick it up before him, even if it earns you a subtle glare each time. And while some days it really is too heavy for you to carry—heavy enough to make you question exactly what point you’re trying to prove here—you remain determined.

Having cash ready and smacking it down on the peeling countertop of the bodega before your snacks have even been rung up, and regardless of how insane you look and how the clerk squeezes his face at you to confirm that, the triumphant grin you give Miles (who’s struggling to contain a smile of his own) doesn’t falter.

“I got it.”