#and her death. i've screamed about it enough.

[glacierbash]

thinking about that one post about "he's a girl to me" or whatever. and that has me thinking about heavensward so much. and also stormblood! kinda just ffxiv in general but I feel the later expansions have this issue less but ESPECIALLY like. estinien, aymeric, and zenos when compared to the actual women in the expansion. it feels to me like the women of the expansion are by and far overlooked by people for the sake of the men and that general "he's so girl to me" contributes to it. Like there ARE women right there you know. like there are very very very good women just a few feet to the left. you can talk about how girlie estinien is to you but like. ysayle is right there. you can talk about how babygirl zenos is but also. there's fordola. you know that right. like you can enjoy the women too. it's ok.

and ofc genuine actual transfem headcanons are SO fucking good. I love them so much. keep going. But like that post has said, when it's only men in the fandom being treated as "he's so girl" (AND NEVER WOMAN!!!! ALWAYS GIRL!!!!!) it gets really really fucking tiring.

i love estinien! I really like Zenos! I get it! And if they are your favorite characters and you want specifically content about them and to make content specifically about them that is FINE!! but also, holy shit is it exhausting when it's like 99% about them and not a single glimpse towards the women of the story. yeah ffxiv's writing has a huuuuuuge fucking issue with women. and also.

#i dunno it's hard to write something ranty like this without it feeling like #i'm bashing people for their faves. i'm not!!! #im just a really fucking tired lesbian who wants to see women get content #and not just the men of the media with the excuse 'he's so girlie to me' or WHATEVER!!!! #please for the love of god like. it almost feels like people are scared to hc characters as trans. #and if you don't want to who CARES but also come on. come on do it. your faves are trans now. enjoy. #anyways. sorry for the rant. bleh. #I'M JUST MAD WHEN THERE ARE SUPER WELL WRITTEN WOMEN 20 FEET TO THE LEFT WHO GET ENTIRELY IGNOREDDDDDD #ok. 'super well written' is sometimes an exaggeration. and fuck it i'll admit it. MY babygirl has her issues. #you can really feel the pivot where they were like 'oh fuck we don't want her to be a VILLAIN villain what do we do' #'we already had her evil cackle at ish/gard being assaulted and people dying. what now.' #and her death. i've screamed about it enough. #but my point stands she's still just as solid as the other characters. give her some love. #ok. that's all. rant over.

[valkyrietookmoved]

Now it's my turn to grill you about twisted wonderland dating options

Between Malleus and HiMERU?

And between Vil and Shu? 🎤

God... You had fun with this one didn't you ya devil /j

Though it pains my soul because I absolutely adore Himeru as a character I... I have to say Malleus. He's just... It's just like you said at the very least for now he's well mannered he shows he cares and cares deeply and yeah he's a bit awkward and doesn't really understand his own feelings well (and at the very least from some of his lines you can infer he's definetly lying to himself about some of them just to cope, at least imho) he doesn't really wear the same sort of mask Himeru constantly has to out on. I feel like while Malleus confusion about his own feelings might make it difficult to get closer to him he isn't actively putting up a wall (like himeru would do) and just by talking eventually he'd get used to it and would be able to express himself a bit more freely. Also he's chill I'd listen to him rant about gargoyles and grotesques and I'd accompany him to walk around decrepit and desolate ruins any day. We'll cross the bridges of "this means your royalty now" and "your life spans are wildly different how will you cope" when we get there... Probably.

*inhales*..... Okay the difficult one is now god you're evil. They're just... They're like different flavors of the same person god what am I going to do... (Also I love them both extremely how dare you make me chose). Okay so... After thinking a lot about this a lot (I got this ask while walking my dog about uh.... Two hours ago I've been thinking about it ever since), I think I have to say Vil. He might be a perfectionist but I feel like it's a lot more focused on himself unless his goal needs to include other people. Yes he's very strict but partially it's due to his responsibility as a house warden and I think that as long as he sees you're putting effort even if you don't reach the level he's at that's enough to kinda ease up on you and let some things slide. In the hand Shu's getting better but he still would be very much pushy about his ideas and he believes is perfect and if you don't reach a certain level I feel like he'll definetly jumo at you and I cannot deal with that. Also I feel Vil is a lot more outwardly affectionate and a lot more able to read other's emotional states and actually take it into account more than Shu has ever been unless they explode in his face. Also from a more "how would I survive this situation and get to a point where I can be more or less comfortable" point of view, I'm prone to crying even when I feel extreme levels of anger and I think Shu would need the raw power of dry anger to be able to drive a point home while I might be able to manipulate Vil into being nicer to me if I just end up crying in front of him sjdldjdosodkskd

Ask game

#this is why you're wrong #yes you're right #ash asks answers #korka 🩸 #enjoy I had fun thinking about this #i needed to be a bit evil at the end I feel like either of those two men would break my emotional state if I spend too much time with them #also I definitely hold some very /very/ different values of beauty to bith Shu and Vil #but I feel Vil would at least respect my point of view if I sound confident enough and show that I've spent a long time thinking about it #while Shu would just be like and I would have to play the card (upon my death) #or just end up in a screaming match and end up crying out if anger and frustration because it just doesn't get through his thick skull #I'm being very hard on Shu he can get ro be very sweet if we go by lines he says but I partially belive that's #1. because he's talking to the Producer so they don't actually see each other that often and soend that much time together #and 2. anzu is actually extremely hard working and actually productive and good at her job so that probably softens him up a lot more #and I am definetly not that so it would cause problems #WELL THAT GOT LONG EVEN IN THE TAGS OK IWKDDKKDKD #i still oove you Shu but by god you'd be such a nightmare to live alongside with #call me when you get some therapy and some more emotional stability <3

[autismserenity]

know someone who enjoys horror stories? share this one! it's true!

hahahahahahahahahaha aarrggghhhhhhhhhh 3,000,000 deaths due to COVID-19 last year. Globally. Three million. Case rates higher than 90% of the rest of the pandemic. The reason people are still worried about COVID is because it has a way of quietly fucking up your body. And the risk is cumulative.

I'm going to say that again: the risk is cumulative.

It's not just that a lot of people get bad long-term effects from it. One in seven or so? Enough that it's kind of the Russian Roulette of diseases. It's also that the more times you get it, the higher that risk becomes. Like if each time you survived Russian Roulette, the empty chamber was removed from the gun entirely. The worst part is that, psychologically, we have the absolute opposite reaction. If we survive something with no ill effects, we assume it's pretty safe. It is really, really hard to override that sense of, "Ok, well, I got it and now I probably have a lot of immunity and also it wasn't that bad." It is not a respiratory disease. Airborne, yes. Respiratory disease, no: not a cold, not a flu, not RSV.

Like measles (or maybe chickenpox?), it starts with respiratory symptoms. And then it moves to other parts of your body. It seems to target the lungs, the digestive system, the heart, and the brain the most.

It also hits the immune system really hard - a lot of people are suddenly more susceptible to completely unrelated viruses. People get brain fog, migraines, forget things they used to know.

(I really, really hate that it can cross the blood-brain barrier. NOTHING SHOULD EVER CROSS THE BLOOD-BRAIN BARRIER IT IS THERE FOR A REASON.) Anecdotal examples of this shit are horrifying. I've seen people talk about coworkers who've had COVID five or more times, and now their work... just often doesn't make sense? They send emails that say things like, "Sorry, I didn't mean Los Angeles, I meant Los Angeles."

Or they insist they've never heard of some project that they were actually in charge of a year or two before.

Or their work is just kind of falling apart, and they don't seem to be aware of it.

People talk about how they don't want to get the person in trouble, so their team just works around it. Or they describe neighbors and relatives who had COVID repeatedly, were nearly hospitalized, talked about how incredibly sick they felt at the time... and now swear they've only had it once and it wasn't bad, they barely even noticed it.

(As someone who lived with severe dissociation for most of my life, this is a genuinely terrifying idea to me. I've already spent my whole life being like, "but what if I told them that already? but what if I did do that? what if that did happen to me and I just don't remember?") One of its known effects in the brain is to increase impulsivity and risk-taking, which is real fucking convenient honestly. What a fantastic fucking mutation. So happy for it on that one. Yes, please make it seem less important to wear a mask and get vaccinated. I'm not screaming internally at all now.

I saw a tweet from someone last year whose family hadn't had COVID yet, who were still masking in public, including school.

She said that her son was no kind of an athlete. Solidly bottom middle of the pack in gym.

And suddenly, this year, he was absolutely blowing past all the other kids who had to run the mile. He wasn't running any faster. His times weren't fantastic or anything. It's just that the rest of the kids were worse than him now. For some reason. I think about that a lot. (Like my incredibly active six-year-old getting a cold, and suddenly developing post-viral asthma that looked like pneumonia.

He went back to school the day before yesterday, after being home for a month and using preventative inhalers for almost week.

He told me that it was GREAT - except that he couldn't run as much at recess, because he immediately got really tired. Like how I went outside with him to do some yard work and felt like my body couldn't figure out how to increase breathing and heart rate.

I wasn't physically out of breath, but I felt like I was out of breath. That COVID feeling people describe, of "I'm not getting enough air." Except that I didn't have that problem when I had COVID.) Some people don't observe any long (or medium) term side effects after they have it.

But researchers have found viral reservoirs of COVID-19 in everyone they've studied who had it.

It just seems to hang out, dormant, for... well, longer than we've had an opportunity to observe it, so far.

(I definitely watched that literal horror movie. I think that's an entire genre. The alien dormant under ice in the Arctic.)

(oh hey I don't like that either!!!!!!!!!) All of which is to explain why we should still care about avoiding it, and how it manages to still cause excess deaths. Measuring excess deaths has been a standard tool in public health for a long time.

We know how many people usually die from all different causes, every year. So we can tell if, for example, deaths from heart disease have gone way up in the past three years, and look for reasons. Those are excess deaths: deaths that, four years ago, would not have happened. During the pandemic, excess death rates have been a really important tool. For all sorts of reasons. Like, sometimes people die from COVID without ever getting tested, and the official cause is listed as something else because nobody knows they had COVID. But also, people are dying from cardiovascular illness much younger now.

People are having strokes and heart attacks younger, and more often, than they did before the pandemic started. COVID causes a lot of problems. And some of those problems kill people. And some of them make it easier for other things to kill us. Lung damage from COVID leading to lungs collapsing, or to pneumonia, or to a pulmonary embolism, for example. The Economist built a machine-learning model with a 95% confidence interval that gauges excess death statistics around the world, to tell them what the true toll of the ongoing COVID pandemic has been so far.

Total excess deaths globally in 2023: Three million.

3,000,000.

Official COVID-19 deaths globally so far: Seven million. 7,000,000. Total excess deaths during COVID so far: Thirty-five point two million. 35,200,000.

Five times as many.

That's bad. I don't like that at all. I'm glad last year was less than a tenth of that. I'm not particularly confident about that continuing, though, because last year we started a period of really high COVID transmission. Case rates higher than 90% of the rest of the pandemic. Here's their data, and charts you can play with, and links to detailed information on how they did all of this:

Here's a non-paywalled link to it:

https://archive.vn/2024.01.26-012536/https://www.economist.com/graphic-detail/coronavirus-excess-deaths-estimates

Oh: here's a link to where you can buy comfy, effective N95 masks in all sizes:

Those ones are about a buck each after shipping - about $30 for a box of 30. They also have sample packs for a dollar, so you can try a couple of different sizes and styles.

You can wear an N95 mask for about 40 total hours before the effectiveness really drops, so that's like a dollar for a week of wear.

They're also family-owned and have cat-shaped masks and I really love them. These ones are cuter and in a much wider range of colors, prints, and styles, but they're also more expensive; they range from $1.80 to $3 for a mask. ($18-$30 for a box of ten.)

#covid isn't over #covid 19 #disability rights #disability advocacy #wear a mask #covid conscious #covid cautious #mask up #wall of words #public health #health care

[canyourfavesurvivecastledracula]

Would Rincewind from Discworld survive Castle Dracula?

I've got multiple asks apiece for Sam Vimes and Moist von Lipwig, but HECK YES I wanna talk about Rincewind!

If Rincewind knows one thing, it's when to run away from a bad situation. The Dead travel fast but Rincewind is faster. Rincewind does not want to be here. Nobody nopes like him. At the very first red flag Rincewind is RinceOUT.

...unfortunately Fate hates him. Inevitably, he ends up sheltering for the night... at Castle Dracula.

(Re: the crucifix, "for your mother's sake" is unlikely to move him, since she ran away before he was born. But Rincewind doesn't shave - he needs his beard, he has too little as it is!)

Rincewind is a coward by birth, upbringing and vocation. He is pretty good at convincing people not to kill him and he usually looks too pathetic to be worth the bother. He is not at all good at convincing people not to force him into heroic roles that he absolutely does not want. But staying alive is pretty much his speciality.

Rincewind is afraid of perfectly ordinary women - he is terrified of the Girlies, and is just as good at running from them screaming as Jonathan is. Better, arguably. I don't think anyone has ever said "I too can love" about him though, and I don't think anyone is going to. Dracula may not rescue him from the Girlies ... but he gets lucky and escapes them somehow.

Fate may hate him, but the Lady think he's her specialist little guy. Rincewind's luck is extraordinary.

And that's the clincher for me. Rincewind is Fate's chewtoy and DEATH's hobby, but he is the champion of an actual literal god, and She is going to pull him through kicking and screaming.

For anyone asking why he doesn't try magic, magic is not going to help him because he's real bad at it. Dracula is an objectively better wizard than he is, and I honestly don't know how this informs their relationship.

...oh man if Dracula takes his hat he's gonna be so mad. So mad.

His one biggest hurdle is going to be the wall due to his crippling fear of grounds. But I think the Lady will have his back on this one, so when he accidentally trips and falls out the window he'll have no choice but to climb. He'll hate ever second of it. But once he makes it down, the Jon-a-Thon is precisely what he's best at.

I sadly don't think Dracula's library is extensive enough to allow him to access L-space.

I do think Rincewind would try to fight Dracula with a half-brick in a sock over the baby steal. Rincewind loves kids and gets occasional bouts of heroism in spite if himself. But the door is locked and he can't get out of his room.

I am fudging this a bit, but I do not believe the Lady will let him die if it can be avoided through sheer dumb luck. And so therefore Rincewind the Wizzard can survive Castle Dracula, but would vastly prefer not to have to

#Rincewind #Discworld #wizards and spellcasters

[totheblood]

i still hear you. (prologue)

PAIRING: post tlou2!ellie williams x reader

SUMMARY: ellie stumbles upon your self-run town after her life is destroyed, except there's more to this town then what meets the eye. and it seems like there is more to you too.

WARNINGS: 18+ mentions of death, grief, related subjects; cursing, mentions of drinking/drugs, mentions of s*x

A/N: i've been working on this one for a while... i hope you enjoy! please send asks, reblog, and reply to this post <;3

WORD COUNT: 3k

"i still hear you laughing, but only for a minute"

Spring couldn’t come fast enough for Ellie. 

The cold still nipped at the exposed skin on her hands, ghosting the phantom limbs of the two fingers she was now missing. Everything was cold. The tip of her nose, her ears, and most importantly her heart. As she wandered aimlessly, unsure of where to go, she knew there was one place she couldn’t go: home. 

Jackson was no longer a place for her. Joel was gone, Tommy thought she was weak, and Dina…Well, Dina wanted nothing to do with her. Dina had a lot she could blame Ellie for before Ellie left, but she never did. She stayed. And now, on top of all of that, Ellie had left one of the few people in her life who cared enough about her to stay. Spring could come tomorrow but it would forever be winter inside her. 

She didn’t know where she was going, but she knew she was going west. She couldn’t handle the harsh winters of the East Coast, and Wyoming stopped feeling like home before she left for Seattle. She thought about staying on the farm and living out whatever short life she was going to have there, but staying in that home painted with memories of “what ifs” would drive her crazy. 

So she packed enough supplies to last her a few months if she hunted her food and headed to the West Coast. The first few days were silent, she only encountered a few infected and found shelter in abandoned buildings. She lived off of expired food she found in vending machines in old universities and occasionally sang herself to sleep. 

On her tenth day, she found a car that lasted her about 2 days. Once it broke down, she just kept walking. Over abandoned highways and thick forests, she just kept walking. On day 17, she reached California and stumbled upon an eerily similar set of walls. It looked just like the gates at Jackson, except these were concrete and better built. They were much higher, and the gates almost looked… automatic. 

Ellie was hesitant. She didn’t know what she was looking for, but she definitely wasn’t looking for another hometown to destroy. She approached the large walls cautiously, with her hands up and slowly. As she walked closer she was screaming, “I come in peace,” over and over again. She was almost 50 feet near the gate when she heard a girl's voice shout, “Don’t come any closer.”

She stopped in her tracks as the automatic gates began to open. Ellie expected an army of people with guns blazing, just how it was when she first arrived at Jackson, but when the gates opened there just stood you, grounded in all your glory, and a gun aimed right at her face. She wanted to laugh, but that just seemed sexist. 

Instead, you pressed forward, unwavering, with your gun aimed right at her. She didn’t step backward, or even breathe, she just stood there until you were close enough to her to make out all the freckles on her face and the slit in her eyebrow. 

“Who are you?” you spat at her.

“Ellie,” she breathed out, her hands faltering a bit. 

With your hand firmly wrapped around the cold metal of the gun, you inched forward again, pulling back the slide, a metallic click echoing in the silence. The gun was loaded, and you were letting Ellie know that you weren’t afraid to shoot. Her hands stiffened again. 

“What are you doing here?” Your tone was tough and the look on your face was enough to send Ellie running for the hills, but it also made her want to crack a smile. Your nose scrunched up as you spoke, and your lips were somehow not chapped in this weather. But Ellie didn’t smile, she was sure if she did you would put one right between her eyes. That much she was sure of.

“I-” Ellie hadn’t thought this far. What was she doing here? “I’m just looking for a place to stay.” 

Your eyebrows creased as you gave her a once over, looking for any sign she was trouble. It was in your nature to search for danger, but she wasn’t raising any red flags. Except the fact that she made it here alone and unscathed, and was missing two fingers. 

“What happened to your hand?” you asked, tipping the gun slightly to her hand. A pained expression crossed her face, it was almost like she forgot that two of her fingers were quite literally bitten off, but that fight was somewhere shoved deep inside her mind. It wasn’t something she wanted to remember.

“Lost them in a fight,” she replied simply, there was no point in telling the full story. It’s not like you had the time. 

“You can’t stay here if you’re going to be trouble,” finally you put the gun down, resting your hands on your hips, giving her a firm look. Ellie would hand it to you, you were absolutely scary. In her mind, she knew she could take you, but she also wasn’t so sure of that.  

“I’m,” she sighed, lowering her hands slowly, “I’m done with that. I won’t be trouble,” and for the first time in Ellie’s life, she meant that. She was ready to start over. She knew the fighter in her would always be there, itching to come out but she had been fighting her whole life. It was time to give up. She had already lost everything. Or so she thought. 

Your face softened slightly before firming up again, your empathy peeking through like it always did. You looked her over again, sighing, as you signaled for someone at the gate to come. A man with short blonde hair trotted over, a leash in his hand. He looked kind as he offered a smile to Ellie.

“Old girl here is just gonna check to make sure you’re not infected,” he smiled, dropping the leash. Ellie’s heart rate picked up again as she watched the German Shepherd approach her slowly, sniffing around her as it circled her. You stood behind the blonde guy with your arms crossed across your chest. The dog found nothing and returned to the man, sitting down next to him, “Looks like you’re all clear!”

“Welcome to Mono City,” you deadpanned, rolling your eyes as you turned back towards the gate, walking in that direction. You were halfway there when you realized Ellie wasn’t moving. Turning on your heel again you stared at her, hand on your hip again. You had an attitude, Ellie thought, cute. “You coming or what?”

The small town sat on a large lake, glistening as the sun's rays bounced off the surface. Buildings were built close together, trees without leaves scattered on the walkway, and about a hundred people out on the street as she trailed behind you, earning dirty looks from half of them. Ellie scowled back. Ellie smiled when you introduced yourself to her, telling her your name and a few key details about yourself. She learned you served as some sort of mayor here, keeping everything in order, and that you were the person that people came to. She would be lying if she said that didn’t intimidate her. But all Ellie did was give you her name again and tell you that she was from Jackson, anything else she said would fall short. 

“How are you with your hands?” you asked, voice flat and simple. Ellie choked on her words, stuttering a response. 

“I’m, well,” she coughed, “I’m just okay with them now, since,” she shrugged gesturing to what she now called her ‘bad hand’, “you know.”

A wave of guilt crossed your face as you composed yourself, somehow already forgetting your previous interaction. You shook your head solemnly, cursing quietly under your breath as you stopped. 

“Shit,” you turned to her, eyes squeezed shut, “sorry, I’m so used to asking the same questions, I didn’t even think.”

“It’s fine don’t worry about it,” she gave a tight-lipped smile. Now, with the illumination of the buildings, she could see your whole face. You were pretty, that she was sure of, but it was a more down-to-earth pretty. A type of pretty that you had to take in. You had scars around your face, and a pretty big scar down the side of your neck. It almost looked like the one Ellie had on her arm. But still, scars and all, you were just nice to look at. 

“Well, just for that reason we probably won’t have you be on guard duty,” you stated, eyes flicking around her face, “do you have any other strengths?”

“Uhm,” Ellie had to think for a minute. She had never really been asked anything like this before. What were her strengths? Did she have any at all? She used to be good at guitar, but now she couldn’t play, and that probably wouldn’t be useful at all to anyone here. She was good at art still, something she couldn’t take for granted anymore. It was all she had. The scratched-out drawings of Dina, JJ, Jesse, and Joel were stuffed deep into her bag.

“I’m good at art,” she shrugged, “and writing, maybe.”

“Okay,” you smiled, showing off your teeth, making her warm a bit, “that we can work with. Maybe you can teach at the school.”

“You have a school here?” Ellie gawked. Jackson had a school but it was small and had maybe two or three teachers. 

“Yeah,” you turned to keep walking, making Ellie stumble behind you to keep up, “we have three. An elementary, middle, and high school.”

“Wow,” Ellie was in awe, “It’s not like a military school or anything?” 

“No,” you answered quickly, your voice tight, “It’s not like any of that shit. We don’t fuck with FEDRA here.”

Ellie would be lying if she said that wasn’t music to her ears.

“It’s just like a normal school except we teach a lot more practical things. Things we can use like, cooking, science, and English. Like reading or writing. Since you’re new you will probably start with the elementary school. We also have little extracurriculars and we’ve wanted to introduce art but haven’t been able to find anyone yet.”

“Oh, cool,” was all Ellie said as you both stumbled on what looked like a residential street. There were rows of houses, all that looked the same. There was a road, with cars parked on them and driveways with gates. Most of the houses looked about two stories tall, some had toys lying in the front yards and a few animals were roaming about, small cats and dogs. The porches had furniture on them, little couches and chairs, and as she walked she noticed some people outside with mugs in their hands as if they were drinking their morning coffee. The town looked like something she saw out of a movie, only something she could dream about. Her eyes were wide in awe as you rambled on about something but Ellie was honestly too entranced in everything. Here, in the middle of nowhere was a whole town of people living their lives, as if nothing had ever happened to them. 

“Ellie?” you stopped in your tracks, crossing your arms over your chest. There was your attitude again, “are you even listening?”

“Y-yeah, I am. It’s just-”

“A lot, I know,” you sighed, “but you gotta listen, there are a lot of rules here. Rules that make this place function and if you don’t follow them, you could easily be kicked out.”

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, genuinely meaning it, “I’m listening, promise.”

“It’s fine,” you gave her a fake smile, turning to push open a gate to a nice house, “This will be your place.”

“Uhm,” Ellie stopped, not entering the front yard, “what do you mean ‘my place’? This is far too big for me.”

“This is the only size our houses come in,” you replied matter-of-factly, “you can just say thank you.”

Ellie blinked as she looked up at the blue house, that looked like it was built yesterday. It had a wrap-around porch and two white columns right by the entrance. The door was a giant white door with a gold handle. This was nicer than any house she’s ever been in, and way too big for one girl.  

“Thank you,” Ellie replied, still awe-struck, “this is just so nice.”

“You’re welcome,” you smiled, fishing around in your bag for something. You pulled out a pair of keys, and handed them to her, “Here’s your house keys. You don’t get a car quite yet, that’s something you have to work your way up to, but there is a bike in the garage. Spring is around the corner so it will get warmer and you should have your car by next winter so don’t worry too much. My house is right across the block, but I’m usually in the City Center if you need me.”

She wrapped her right hand around the keys, tightening them in her palm. She watched as you searched through your bag again and pulled out a little device. 

“This is your walkie,” you took a deep breath, “Try to find me before using it. It’s usually only used for emergencies so just be mindful of that. I’ll be by tomorrow to take you to work, so you have time to get settled in today. Okay?”

“Okay,” Ellie smiled, her voice sounding a little bit breathless.

That night Ellie settled into her new home. Well, she tried to settle into her new home but kept shifting around in every seat and couch, like she couldn’t find something to get comfortable on. She examined every part of the house, picking the smallest room for herself and shoving her backpack in the closet. She took a bath for the first time in months, washing all the dirt and grime off of her. Left in the shower was a bar of soap that looked like it had been handmade and unused. It smelled so good she almost took a bite, but instead chose to use it how it was meant to be used.

As the sun began to set she stepped outside, watching the activity on the block and smiling to herself. Everything just seemed so normal, but with the state of this world this town was certainly abnormal. From her window she could see you in your front yard, feeding a pack of cats that slipped through your white picket fence. She smiled to herself as she watched one rub against your leg, and your gentle hand coming down to pet it. She continued to watch as kids passed your house, waving to you and running back to their homes. 

The next few days were uneventful. Ellie found herself getting used to teaching young kids, always laughing when they asked about her missing fingers. It was out of her comfort zone, but she was around JJ enough to know what kids liked. Her voice always got so high-pitched when she spoke to them, and they liked being chased around the room. On her fifth day of working, a kid ran in screaming, “Miss Ellie! Miss Ellie!” with a chicken scratch drawing of his family. He was so proud that all Ellie could say was “Good job, bud!” and ruffle his hair. He left with the biggest smile on his face.

But now, Ellie found herself at the city’s most popular bar, with the other teachers who wanted to congratulate her on her first week. Della, who invited Ellie out in the first place, made a toast to her, clinking her glass with Ellie’s and taking a long swig of her drink. Ellie took a sip of hers too and fuck, this shit was strong. 

She felt human again, laughing with people her age in a bar and old music playing. She was almost having a good time until a song came on that reminded her of Joel. It was like her whole demeanor changed and everyone could tell. She excused herself from the group finding a small corner to sit on and finish the rest of her drink, hoping maybe it would make her forget everything. But then, the bell at the front door rang making Ellie look up to see who had entered. 

There you were in all your glory, tight shirt on and hair completely loose. It almost looked as if you were wearing makeup. Ellie must’ve been staring too long because she blinked and you were standing in front of her. 

“See you got yourself a drink,” you laughed, voice making Ellie’s cheeks turn pink. She was… really drunk.

“Yeah, I could get you one too,” she slurred a bit, goofy smile spread across her face. She watched as something odd crossed your face and now she was worried she said something wrong, “I just mean, like.. you know… I mean like as a thank you.”

“Right,” you sighed.

“For my mansion, you know,” she shrugged and you giggled. You giggled and it went straight to her head. What was she doing?

“You haven’t been paid yet,” you smiled back at her, now moving to sit down, “and it’s okay, I don’t drink unless it’s a special occasion.”

“What? Meeting me is not special enough,” she teased, knocking her shoulder with yours. Her eyes scanned your face, your smile reaching your eyes as you giggled again. Her stomach sank again. She wasn’t so sure if this was just the alcohol anymore, she felt like she was 12 and crushing on Riley again. 

“No, it’s special,” you reassured, “Maybe, I’ll drink when you decide to stay.”

“Who said I’m not staying?” she questioned sitting up.

“Some people don’t,” you shrugged, smile fading. Ellie’s brain wanted to make it better, make you laugh again, or shit do anything to put the smile back on your face. 

“Well, I’m gonna,” she said gently, so only you could hear her, “I need to get my paycheck.”

You laughed and Ellie breathed a sigh of relief, laughing with you. 

“I’ll get that to you,” you smiled, “and we don’t use paychecks.”

“What’re you gonna pay me with?” she smirked, “I know some other ways you can pay me.” Then the same look from earlier crossed your face and she cursed quietly to herself, muttering an apology. 

“No, no,” you said, like you were about to let her down gently, “I just try not to get… involved with anyone since…” your voice trailed off.

“Since?” Ellie questioned, but as you opened your mouth to speak the group from earlier made their way over, noticing your arrival and screaming your name. She watched as you got up, hugged everyone and started chatting with them, leaving her with her drink and too many questions. 

There was one thing that scared her though. She knew you needed someone who could stay, and the only thing she was good at was leaving.

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams x reader smut #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fan fic #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams oneshot #modern!ellie williams #college!ellie williams #ellie williams one shot

[reiderwriter]

The One Thing You Can't Have

Pairing: Spencer Reid × Female Reader (DBF! Spencer × Hotchner! Reader)

Summary: After five years away, you move back to your hometown. Reconnecting with many of your father's friends and coworkers, you start to get suspicious when you lose multiple pairs of panties. Or; Spencer risks it all by stealing Hotch's adult daughter's underwear. And maybe her heart, too.

Warnings: Day 15 of Kinktober - panties, mentions canon character death, age difference (ten years), panties, underwear kink, underwear stealing, masturbation, sexual fantasies discussed, PinV Sex, clitoral stimulation, partial creampie, mentions of emergency contraception

A/N: It is done! I shit you not the writing time on this is longer than most of the fics I've ever written, it took me so long that I don't have any other fics prewritten for Kinktober now and have to spend the day hastily writing them... But it was worth it. As always, you can find all my work in my masterlist and all my kinktober fics here. My requests are open until the end of the month, so if there's a specific fic you want, don't hesitate to let me know!

With your family the way it was, you'd dealt with a lot over the years. Aaron Hotchner loved his wife and kids, but that hadn't been enough to protect you from George Foyet. When your mom and kid brother had gone into protective custody, you'd been away at college, and apart from a protective detail, they'd not seen fit to move you anywhere special at all. Foyet was so caught up on your mom that he'd forgotten you existed.

When you got the call from your dad that Foyet was resurfacing, you'd known in your gut that you had to go back. You'd ditched your handlers and driven through the night but when you arrived at the house you'd grown up in, all you could see was police lights and caution tape.

You'd run as fast as you could into the house, but a pair of strong arms grabbed you and lifted you away as you screamed and sobbed. Derek Morgan held you firm as he tried to calm you, but you barely registered his words.

"My mom is in there, my dad too, and Jack, let me fucking go, Derek." You'd only stopped raging when they'd bought out the first body bag. And then the second.

The anguish that filled your lungs stole your breath and you didn't know it was you screaming until your throat was red and completely sore. Another set of hands led you away and into an ambulance, skillfully anticipating your needs.

"Y/N, look at me. Look at my eyes, we're going to breathe together, okay?" Staring up into his dark eyes you suddenly remembered that you needed the air to breathe, his calm voice bringing you back to life.

He was wearing an FBI vest but you'd never seen him before. Not a surprise since you'd avoided everything to do with your father's job for the last five years. You only really knew Derek from when he'd been sent to deliver the news to you about Foyet's initial targeting of you.

The Man in front of you was young, but still older than you. He was tall, but he'd shrunk himself down into the space, leaning over you so that he was the only thing you could see. He looked tired, but he was the only thing for miles around keeping you grounded and you clung to him in desperation.

"My Name is Doctor Spencer Reid, I work with your dad. You're Y/N, right?" His voice was soft and even, like he was taming a temperamental animal. Even though you knew what he was doing, trying to calm you so he could deliver a devastating blow, you let him do it, drinking in each word as total calm swept over you. You nodded at him and waited for him to continue.

"Your brother is fine, he's at your aunt's house, he didn't touch him. Your dad is in the hospital and they think he's going to pull through, but he was stabbed a few times so he's going to be weak for a while." You searched his eyes for the words he wasn't saying as panic rose in your body.

"My mom, where is my mom? Haley Hotchner, she's… She should have been with Jack, where is she?" The look in his eyes was enough to tell you what in your heart you already knew. Your mom was in that bag and your family was broken, again.

You don't know what happened next, but you knew you were bundled up in Spencer Reid's arms and clinging to him for dear life. You knew he'd somehow got you to your aunt's house, and you knew he'd stayed until you were ready to let him go. Even years later you don't know how long he'd held you. Maybe only minutes, maybe hours. He had let you sit and grieve, finding small comfort in the contours of his body.

After that, college wasn't a priority for you. Your brother was only a baby, and he needed you around, so even the three-hour drive upstate seemed too far to be away from him. You stuck around, taking your courses as remotely as they'd let you for the semester and struggling for it.

Your dad felt guilty, of course. For your mom, for the derailing of your life, and for the way he had to keep leaving because that was the job. In all honesty, you didn't mind being home more at that time.

There was Jack, who was great, and your Aunt was so much like your mom that sometimes it was like she was still with you, even a little bit. And there was Spencer, too.

After it had become evident that you were going to fail the only required course you were taking that semester (algebra was your enemy), your dad had sought out the only person he knew with a good grasp of mathematics and no weekend plans and roped them into tutoring you. Which meant that your weekends were suddenly fully booked by him.

He seemed a little different from the first time you’d met him, but that was a given considering the circumstances. He held himself a little taller, and more relaxed as he talked about the kinds of equations you were supposed to use and formulas you were supposed to memorize. He was attentive but not too close, and he’d shown up with shorter hair and now that you could see more of his face, more of his neck, you found yourself getting distracted by the oddest things. The stubborn but small stubble on his neck, the way sweat trailed down his face, the movement of his Adam’s Apple as he swallowed, the way the breeze from your open window tousled his hair.

It took you a distractingly long time to realize that you were physically attracted to him, but when you did realize, it was suddenly all you could think about. You spent most of your days working on math so you’d have some excuse to call or text him. The mornings before your lessons together you’d taken to hogging the bathroom long enough to shave, wash and dry your hair and apply a natural but still skilled amount of make-up. You were surprised that neither of the big bad profilers had caught onto the stench of your puppy love, because you were dripping with desperation.

He never budged of course, too oblivious or too noble to lay a hand on an eighteen-year-old. Or just smart enough to know not to lay a hand on his boss's daughter.

You certainly weren’t making it easy for him though.

“Spencer, what do you think of my outfit today? I’m going out with some friends from high school tonight for a meal, do I look okay?” You’d twirled for him innocently, knowing full well the speed of your spin would throw your already short skirt up past your panties for a split second.

“I don’t think I’m the best person to ask about clothes, Y/N. Maybe ask your dad.” His flush was evident enough that you knew it had worked but his hands were rigid by his sides and he carefully guided you back to the topic at hand.

It turned out that after a semester of tutoring, you’d become such a whizz at mathematics that you’d passed with flying colors. You’d been so excited to tell Spencer that you drove straight to Quantico, using the family pass your father had given you for emergencies to gain access. Spencer didn’t know what hit him when you launched yourself into his arms and wrapped your legs around him, but he’d somehow stayed upright as you buried your face once again in his neck.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, Spencer! I got an A, the Professor was so shocked by my improvement that he asked me if I’d cheated. When I dropped your name, he freaked.” Spencer’s eyes were wide and blinking frantically as his hands struggled to find a place to hold you. You’d worn another scandalously low skirt and it seemed the only way to pry you off of him was to put a hand on or dangerously close to your ass.

You enjoyed watching his internal struggle, and so did quite the number of FBI agents, until your father spoiled the fun by walking out of his office to check the commotion.

“Y/N Hotchner, get down from there, now.” Your father rarely raised his voice at you, choosing a softer approach to parenting than many would expect. That meant that on the rare occasion that he did feel the need to speak up, you shut your mouth and listened. Detangling yourself from Spencer’s arms with an awkward smile, you tried your best to nonchalantly bounce over to your father and explain why you were there.

He motioned for you to follow him to his office, and you complied, letting one ear stay clear to focus on the sound of Reid being teased by all of his coworkers about the scene you’d just caused.

Your dad didn’t exactly scold you for the incident, so much as he tried to insinuate that you should head back home, and then head back to college, too. With months between you and the Foyet incident, he’d been hinting at letting you get back to your life for a while, but your stunt with Reid had him suddenly addressing it more overtly.

To say that your family dinner that night was a pain in the ass was an understatement.

“Y/N, Daddy said you went to his work today!” Jack had started the conversation, and you knew the tactical warfare was beginning.

“That’s right, buddy! I had to thank Spencer for helping me with my schoolwork.” You smiled at your brother before turning a suspicious glance toward your dad, who sat peacefully eating his dinner. The fact that you were even all eating together should’ve alerted you to something going on behind the scenes.

“Uncle Spencer is the best!” It wasn’t Jack’s fault he’d just given your father the best ammunition he could’ve asked for.

“Do you agree, Y/N? Do you think your Uncle Spencer is the best?” He was using his calm interrogation voice and you hated it.

“Dad, please, he’s not that much older than me, it’s weird for me to call him Uncle.”

“He’s ten years your senior, Y/N. You know that right?” You didn’t move as your eyes locked together with his, as he seemingly asked a more serious question in the subtext. You weren’t ready to answer it though, and so you buckled under the pressure, looking away first and eating the rest of your meal in silence.

Without saying much of a goodbye to any member of your father’s teammates, you decided that it was about time you continued with your life, not letting the actions of George Foyet hold you in a standstill any longer. You went back to college full-time, got your degree, and got a job in a city near your college town. You came back home regularly, but in the five years since your mother's death, you hadn’t talked to or heard from Spencer Reid.

Job opportunities were better in D.C. though, so after growing up and having some time away, you came right back to your childhood home, ready to start over. It was only temporary, of course, and you had a job lined up, but apartments were so hard to come by, especially ones that were actually livable, that you needed to do a lot of searching to find one that felt right.

So your dad’s home it was. With Jack a bit older and constantly away at school or clubs or friend’s houses, and your dad’s schedule the way it was, you’d practically got the house to yourself. And after living alone and with female roommates for half a decade, you’d almost grown too comfortable in your own skin. The summer between your move and the start of your new job was hot and sticky, and you found yourself taking more and more cold showers after your morning workouts.

Normally at 11 a.m., you had the house to yourself, and you’d happily stroll around in a small towel and dry yourself off. If your father or brother were home, you’d cover yourself up a bit more, sure, or just head to your room quicker, obviously.

So emerging from your shower, the last thing you expected was coming face to face with Doctor Spencer Reid sitting on your couch, the one that was directly on your path between the bathroom you’d just emerged from and the room you needed to be in. You cursed your father and his practically-sized apartment as you floundered your way through a greeting of the man you hadn’t seen in five years.

“Spencer, hi. What... What are you doing on my dad’s couch?” You clutched the towel close to your body, trying not to shiver as he trailed his eyes over your body, eyes just as big and wide as the last time you’d seen him.

“We were on our way to a local crime scene, he went to grab something from…” His voice trailed off as he pointed towards the master suite where you could now faintly hear the sound of your dad on the phone to someone.

“Right. Great. I should probably…” You gestured to the room and quickly started making your way toward it, trying not to visibly cringe at the most awkward post-shower interaction you’d ever had.

“What are you doing here?” His voice shot out quickly, and you whipped around so fast, that you almost panicked and dropped the towel completely.

“Oh, I… Did my dad not mention? I got a job at a company nearby, so I moved back. I’m staying here with Dad and Jack until I can find a decent apartment.”

“Oh, wow. Well, it’s nice to have you back. It’s been like five years since you left, right?” His tone was bright and he was nodding his head, but the words set fire to your nerve endings as you remembered that you’d practically run away from him. Even after half a decade, he was having a physical impact on you.

“Yeah, that sounds about right. You have a good memory.”

“You know, I get that a lot.” His grin ignited something in your chest, and you gathered the laundry you’d left on the sofa and quickly excused yourself before you could prove yourself more of a idiot than you could already make a case for.

Spencer watched you go, wondering just when Hotchner was going to emerge from his hiding place to attack him for so openly ogling his half-naked daughter. He stood on the spot staring at your door for a moment too long before dragging his eyes away. Unluckily for him, what he found on the floor had him panicking all over again.

“Y/N, your forgot…” He grabbed the lacy material in his fingers and went to open the door before stopping, realizing that you were probably completely bare behind that door now. The thought sent him into a tailspin, and he once again stood clueless for a beat too long with a pair of your freshly laundered panties in his hands.

He considered dropping them back on the floor, but he didn’t want them to get dirty again after you’d washed them so nicely. He should’ve just left them on the sofa for you to find later, but when Hotch’s voice grew louder and clearer behind him, fear took over and he shoved them into the closest hiding space he could find. His pocket.

“Callahan found something for us at the ME’s office, she’s meeting us at the precinct, let’s go.”

And just like that he was out the door, and he had officially signed his own death warrant.

You never noticed that the first pair went missing. When it became a pattern though, you did become suspicious. Three pairs of underwear in thirty days seemed a bit much, and unless your building's laundry machines were eating them, you had no clue where they could've been.

It's not that Spencer even meant to do it any of the times he did. But when he'd returned home that first day, overwhelmed with the caseload he'd been handed and found the offending item still right there in his coat pocket, the blood had rushed straight to his head.

He'd spent a half hour in agony staring at them, trying to smooth them out so they wouldn't get crumpled, his dick twitching at every slight movement he made. It had been quite a few months since he'd had sex, never really one for casual hook-ups. But if the result of several months of celibacy was stealing underwear then he thought maybe it would be best to have sex sooner rather than later.

He couldn't resist the temptation. Popping the button of his pants, he'd taken his cock in his hand and worked his way up and down his shaft imagining you dropping that towel. He imagined you wearing the panties and nothing else as you replaced his hand with your mouth, desperate to please. Taking the panties in his hand, he began directly masturbating into them, wishing so needily that you were still inside them.

When he shot his load, he soaked them through, and the shame that overcame him was intense and swift.

You never realized that he'd somewhat avoided you after that, doing his best to stay away for fear he'd let his perversions rule his actions. You had somehow made yourself unavoidable though.

The first time he saw you again it was at one of Rossi's family get-togethers. It had been years since you'd seen some of the members of the team, so you were really looking forward to it. Plus, Rossi had boasted of a recently installed pool and jacuzzi within his invitation, and you were excited to check them out with the fine summer weather actually staying fine.

You'd brought your bikini with you and changed in one of the ground-floor bathrooms, wrapping another towel around yourself before you finally made your way to the pool. But once again, wrapped in a towel, you'd come face to face with Spencer Reid.

"Y/N, I didn't know you were coming." He looked like a deer caught in the headlights, and this time worked especially hard to not let his gaze travel all over your skin. He regretted his entire existence as he realized he'd have to hide his micro-expressions around countless profilers, some of whom were present and accounted for when you'd last been seen together.

Derek was going to give him hell.

"Yeah, Uncle David invited me! I'm so excited for the jacuzzi, I haven't been in one since college."

"You call Rossi 'Uncle David?'" The thought had tickled him, humor sparkling in his eyes as he finally smiled at you.

"Why yes I do, and if you're not careful, my dad is going to make me start calling you Uncle Spencer again." You skipped off merrily after that, leaving your spare clothes and your discarded ones in the bathroom Reid had obviously been waiting for.

His smile soured as he realized the impact of your words. Uncle Spencer. Huh. Some fucking "Uncle" he was. He washed his hands thoroughly, having spilled some kind of drink down himself before greeting you, as his eyes fell to the pile of clothes you'd left neatly in the corner.

He tried to tell himself he couldn't do it again, but curiosity and arousal lit up his entire body and carried him forward. Jeans, a t-shirt, socks, and shoes were left tidily discarded, but he couldn't obviously see any underwear. There was a second pile of neat clothes and he looked at that one thoroughly as well, but after a minute it was evident that you'd hidden your unmentionables from clear sight.

He heard the happy cheers and smiles from outside, and painstakingly attempted to pull away, but he couldn't. Rooting through your things, he found them. He found two of them, really. The used underwear you'd likely just taken off, and the fresh pair you were going to change into. Spoiled for choice he sat in a stasis, mentally cursing himself for being so stupidly horny.

It would be wrong to take another pair. And certainly wrong of him to take the clean pair which you'd instantly noticed were missing when you tried to put them on to wear them.

The used pair though. He held them delicately in both hands, the slip of material not as fancy as the ones he'd used before, but somehow more enticing.

Letting his cock rule his thoughts he brought them up to his face and inhaled deeply, and it was like a bomb going off in the back of his head. He had to have them.

Organizing the bathroom into the exact layout as he'd found it, making sure not even a hair was out of place. The panties were safely in his pocket, and he took a minute to get his body physically and mentally under control before exiting the bathroom and rejoining his friends.

The next time he'd taken some, they'd really been handed to him like a gift. One month back at home, and you felt slightly stifled by the overbearing presence of your father. You needed a nice, messy night out, and you sure got it.

The friends you'd reconnected with had taken you out to a slew of clubs, and by the end of the night, you were tripping and stumbling into anything and anyone in your path. It was as if you were magnetically drawn to every object in your way, unfortunately, one just happened to be tall and lean and caught you before you could tumble off again.

"Y/N?" He looked down at you, confused as he took in your intoxicated state.

"Uncle Spencie!" You relaunched yourself into his arms, reminiscent of that day in the bullpen. "Uncle Spencie I can't believe you're here!" You giggled into his neck as you buried yourself there, pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck as you pulled away to grin at him again.

"Y/N, how drunk are you?"

"How you are drunk, huh? Why don't we ever ask that question?" You sent yourself into a fit of giggles as your friends watched the scene play out behind you.

"Girls, this is Doctor Spencer Reid. My daddy is his boss. Isn't he cute?" Your arms still wrapped territorially around Spencer, you introduced your friends who cackled approvingly at your drunk shenanigans.

"Y/N, you need to let me go, the others…"

"Others? Is daddy here? AARON!! AAAAROOOOOO-" He clamped a hand over your mouth and moved you to the side of the road to hail a taxi as fast as possible. Apologizing to your friends, he quickly stuffed you into the cab and gave the driver your address.

"Uncle Spencer, I just wanted to see my daddy and his other friends. Why are you being so mean?" The exaggerated pout on your face had him dragging a hand down over his face as he struggled to pull a seatbelt over you.

"If your dad had seen you wrapped around me like that, he'd have killed one of us."

"Both of us," you nodded and giggled. Your short dress was riding up your thighs, the leather seats of the car feeling unbearably hot and sticky under your skin. You shifted uncomfortably a few times, your underwear eating into your skin in an uncomfortable manner.

"Y/N, what are you doing?" He sternly whispered the words into your ears as he grabbed your wrists. It was too late though, you'd already worked your underwear down your thighs enough that they'd reached your knees and then fallen around your ankles.

"It felt bad, I didn't like it." You leaned your head back and let your legs hang open slightly, just enough that Spencer could see the taxi driver angling for a look.

He snapped a hand between your legs, closing off the view before snatching up the underwear from the floor and pocketing it. You didn't know nor care though, the motion of the car rocking you off into a deep sleep. He'd ended up having to carry you up to your apartment, getting you ready for bed, and leaving just fast enough for Hotch to not catch him hanging over his unconscious daughter.

And he had a third pair of your underwear.

He spent his days wondering just what the fuck was wrong with him, and his nights jerking off to your scent, wondering just how willing he'd be to climb into bed with you and if he'd have the strength to say no.

He was normal enough in your interactions with one another. You'd seen each other at various case celebrations, at parties hosted by the team members, which that summer were high in total. You couldn't resist the temptation to flirt with him, but it was only when the two of you were well out of earshot of anyone who might frown upon it. You didn't think he even noticed that's what you were doing anyway.

Spencer did notice. And he kept noticing and was disgusted by how much he wanted you. You were Hotch’s daughter. He’d seen pictures of you as a child, he’d held you while you cried over your mom and the stress of having to be a responsible adult after everything happened with Foyet, he’d known how much you hated having to grow up quickly when you had Hotch for a dad, and he felt gross that despite all of that he wanted to fuck you so badly that he’d resorted to petty thievery and letting you flirt with him under your father's nose.

It was towards the end of your summer at home when you finally noticed the missing pieces. You'd even almost mentioned it to your dad before thinking it through a bit more. If it wasn't some laundry mix-up, he was going to go full FBI on every man who came close to you, and that was a risk you weren't willing to take.

In the end, you were thankful you said nothing.

The BAU team had been out on a case for ten days, the largest amount of time they'd been away since you'd moved home, and you'd decided to greet them as soon as they returned, congratulate them on a job well done.

You knew they were already heading to their regular bar after they finished their paperwork, but you had some morale to boost in the meantime, so a donut delivery plus enough coffee to stay awake for hours was in order.

They'd practically thrown themselves off the jet and into the box of donuts, each of them thanking you for the happy greeting after what had to have been a hard time away.

"Y/N, you didn't have to do this, but thank you. The team really appreciates it." Your dad had looked at you with a proud look before showing you up to his office, letting you wait on his couch until everyone was finished.

You got bored quickly and asked if you could help with anything, which is how you became your dad's errand-runner. He sent you to the printer to pick up papers, you'd run to get him more coffee from the pot twice and he sent you to ask the others about their progress. Which was totally fine had they not looked like paperwork-writing zombies on the verge of collapse.

"Y/N, head down to Spencer's desk, he should have a file on the geographical profile I need." He hadn't even glanced up to ask you that, but he did shout a thank you out the door, so you suppose he could be forgiven for now.

Bouncing down the stairs you noticed Spencer was deep in the middle of reading some files, doing that speed reading thing you'd heard him talk about but never witnessed.

"Spencer." He didn't look up, too focused on the words in front of him. "Spencer, my dad needs a file."

"Go-bag. Reading, give me a minute." He still hadn't even glanced at you so you pulled yourself around his desk to search for his go-bag yourself. It was on the floor, and you pulled it towards you, settling down on the floor to open it up and look for the files you needed.

You probably should have had more reservations about rooting through Spencer's things because just as you pulled the zip fully open, it seemed like his eyes shot wide and he threw his head in your direction, finally distracted from his work.

"Wait, don't look in-" He whisper-screamed the words at you frantically, but it was too late. The first thing your hand had closed around in the bag was small and delicate and somewhat rumpled, and your hand had a mind of its own pulling it out into your lap so the two of you could see it.

Your panties. One of your missing pairs of panties was in Spencer Reid's go-bag.

Both of you sat there for a few moments, neither of you moving, the eye contact not breaking one second as you both stared at each other in fear and surprise.

He cleared his throat quietly and whispered down at you, "I can explain…" but he didn't get a chance as you swiftly grabbed the file you'd come for - helpfully pulled into plain view by your rustling about - hid your panties back in your own pocket, zipped his bag up and swiftly ran all the way back to your dad's office.

You sat on the couch for the rest of the afternoon, no longer eager to do chores. Spencer had your underwear. He'd stolen it. He'd taken it across the country with him. He'd…You didn't know what he was doing with it, really, but you knew that every image of him with them had the most dirty, exciting, disgusting thoughts running through your head.

You grabbed your things and quickly headed out after that. Penelope caught you by the elevator as you made to leave.

"No, sweetie, where are you going? I thought you were coming to celebrate with us after this, I was so looking forward to having the fun Hotchner around, not the grumpy, serious one."

"I'm just going home to freshen up. I smell like coffee and Quantico, which when you're not nose blind to it isn't the most optimal scent." You promised her you'd see her there, and with a quick glance back at the office, where Spencer was sat tense, looking like he wanted to either run after you or shout something across the room, you left.

By the time you'd arrived home, there were ten missed calls on your cell, and you didn't have to even speculate about who they might be from because there were texts too.

Spencer: I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, call me when you get this.

Spencer: I know it's weird and I'll understand if you hate me, but please talk to me.

Spencer: Please don't tell your dad.

You'd scoffed at that last one as if you'd ever have been that stupid. But you didn't reply or call him, letting him suffer in silence.

This entire time, you'd been operating on the basis that Spencer Reid didn't see you the way you saw him. That he didn't think of you as an adult but as your father's daughter. And now you were confronted with the truth that he was just as fucking lustful and horny as you'd been since you met him at 18? You weren't letting this opportunity pass you by.

Taking the panties out, you stared at them again, trying to figure out just what he'd been doing with them. You recognized them as the pair you'd lost on your night out, bright red and lacy, eye-catching, and definitely yours. He hadn't even tried to lie to you about that, but how willing would you have been to accept the fact that Spencer had stolen someone else's panties? Or been gifted them? Probably not very.

You'd assumed you'd left this pair in the taxi, not entirely sure how you'd ended up in the car in the first place or why you would decide they were uncomfortable right there. Now you had sudden recollections of Spencer also being there, and suddenly your actions made sense.

He'd not only taken your panties, he'd taken your used panties, and it looked as though he'd used them even more. You decided not to think too closely about how he had used them.

But he'd also got you home safe, making sure your things were stored neatly and tucked you into bed nice and tight. And then he'd stolen your panties.

Thinking about it was frustrating but there was nothing else in your mind at that moment. Spencer taking them out secretly to look at. Spencer smelling them. Spencer wrapping them around his big cock and stroking himself to the thought of you.

You wanted to know precisely what he'd done, and you intended to find out.

Penelope called you as soon as they'd left work, and sent you the location, too, and you decided it was time to get ready to mess with Spencer.

The dress you'd worn on the night he'd stolen your panties was freshly laundered. Usually, you wouldn't wear anything so risky in front of your father, but he'd likely only be there for an hour or two before leaving you be. You pulled out a fresh pair of red panties as well, hoping to jog Spencer's memory a little bit to entice him to talk.

With a quick make-up retouch, you climbed into your car, and within twenty minutes you were walking into O'Keefe's.

Miserably, Spencer couldn't come up with an excuse to stay home quick enough and was tumbled into the car by Derek and Penelope. He had a feeling, too, that he wouldn't be able to leave early, either, which was only confirmed when you walked in wearing that dress.

His hopes to sit and nurse his non-alcoholic cocktail peacefully at the edge of the booth are shattered as he watches you saunter over. It clings tight to your skin, twisting around every peak on your body, revealing every part that he'd spent the last few weeks dreaming about.

He was screwed.

"Hi, Dad! Hi everyone!" You smiled innocently enough, but your sickly sweet smile turned on Spencer was an omen, and he suddenly wanted to be down on his knees begging for forgiveness. Or something else.

Instead of sticking by your dad's side, you make your way to Spencer and force him to shuffle further into the booth so you can sit next to him. It's cramped and you're on the edge still, so you let your hand rest on his thigh for a beat too long as you join the conversation.

"What did I miss?"

"Just talking about the craziest things that have happened to us on cases."

"Reid was propositioned by a prostitute once," Derek chuckled.

"Please, Reid has been propositioned by multiple prostitutes, multiple times." Penelope and Derek continued to joke and giggle about the younger man's apparent cluelessness to flirting.

"I guess they just assumed you were a pervert, Spence. I wonder why they'd think that?" His eyes shot wide as you snuck your hand into his pocket under the table, watching to see if anyone else had noticed the bold actions.

But you looked away from him quickly and didn't let your hand spend too long there, sliding it out slowly, feeling up his leg as you went. He took another sip of his drink before shifting uncomfortably in his seat. His cock had been rudely awoken, and he didn't want it to stay awake, so he attempted to let it fall into a less obvious position.

But as he shifted he felt something else in his pants, and curiously he put his own hand into his pocket. You'd returned your stolen underwear to the thief.

He took in a shaky breath and held them inside his pants while he willed himself to calm down. Partly because you were in public and partly because your dad was present. He almost had himself under control when you decided it was time for your next move.

"I need to go get a drink, I'll be back soon." You stood and pushed away from the table, bouncing away swiftly. He watched you go from the corner of his eye and then had to do a double take as you pushed yourself up against the bar ordering your drink.

You stuck your ass out, not enough to make it look intentional to anybody but him, but just enough so he could see the red underwear you had on underneath your dress.

He downed his drink and made his excuses before making his way right to the bar where you stood.

"What are you doing?" He demanded, so close behind you that you felt his breath in you before you heard his voice.

"Buying a drink, what does it look like I'm doing?" You scooted your ass back until it was pressed up against his crotch and he groaned, hard and loud in your ear.

"Y/N, you can't do that, your dad is right fucking there."

"I sure hope my dad isn't fucking over there, that'd really be a sight I didn't want to see." He shut his eyes for a second, taking a deep breath before he put his hands on you. Grabbing your hips, he walked you closer to the bar so that your ass was no longer on display, nor touching him in any way, then he moved to your side and left only one hand firmly touching your back so you knew not to immediately try something else again.

"This is your last warning. Now, you're going to order that drink and then you're going to walk back to that table like a good fucking girl, or so help me god, I will show your dad just how much of a slut you're being." His voice was a dark growl and you felt your panties growing more wet with each syllable, nodding instantly as the bartender came over.

For a minute, he'd genuinely thought that had worked. You'd ordered your drink without another word and then turned back to the table and walked nicely, having pulled your skirt back down a little bit. He'd thought he'd won until the second he'd sat down when Aaron Hotchner had grabbed his coat and stood up.

"Spencer, you're not drinking? Can you drive Y/N home tonight? I’m leaving now, and I’m sure she doesn’t want to leave so early.” You watched as his jaw twitched, taking only a second to compose himself before he agreed.

“Great, have a fun night sweetheart,” he said, kissing your head, before turning out and leaving with Rossi.

“Now, Spencer, what was that you were saying about good behavior at the bar? It was really so very interesting to me and I’d love to hear more.”

You spent the next half hour draining your drink and his self-control, stroking a hand down his chest as the others comfortably ignored your purring at him. He answered all your questions coldly, but every time your hand trailed a little bit too low he stopped it with a heavy hand and a warning look, letting you know that you were still getting to him.

Once you’d finished the first drink, you got up and moved to the bar once again, making sure that his eyes were on you completely as you swayed your hips on the way over. You pulled exactly the same move as you had earlier and made sure he knew you were going to be hard to handle the entire night.

When you returned, he was the only one left at the table, the others having scattered to the dance floor, the bathroom, and the bar. Taking the chance you climb directly into his lap.

“What’s wrong, Spence, you’re looking so lonely over here?” You rest your hands on his shoulders and let your ass fall to his lap, grinding down gently to feel him underneath you.

“How could I be lonely when you’re out here throwing yourself at me like a cheap whore?”

“Oh, we’ve already established how much cheap whores love you today, Spencer. Why would you be so surprised that I’m having the same reaction?”

The others slowly started returning so you pushed away from him for a second, straightening your clothes before they noticed anything amiss.

“Y/N, I need some youthful arm candy, come to the dancefloor with us!” Penelope pulled you from your seat and you laughed as you followed her, sending a wink back over your shoulder to Spencer.

He sat grinding his teeth as you continue your games on the dancefloor, swaying your hips suggestively, not sparing him a single glance as you practically exposed yourself on a dancefloor. He decided he’d let you have your fun and then march you out quickly. He moved his timeline up exponentially the minute he saw a man saunter up behind you, whispering in your ear before walking you over to the bar.

Downing his drink, he made his way to your side, pulling you away from the man quickly.

“We’re leaving now.” He said, leaning down to your ear as he grabbed your coat and pulled it around you.

“Man, what do you think you’re doing?” The man who had pulled you away was visually drunk, looking rough and dangerous as he leered down at you.

“She’s not interested and she’s too young for you anyway.” He said, very close to flashing his badge to get him to back off.

“What, you her dad or something?” He scoffed, but you turned on him with a wide smile as you leaned your head back against Spencer’s chest.

“He’s my daddy, actually.” With a wink, you left the bar, letting Spencer chase after you as you walked directly over to your car. Throwing him the keys, you jumped into the passenger seat.

“I’m taking you home now, you’re being reckless, you’ve had too much to drink.”

“Reckless how? It’s not like I’m the one who has been stealing my boss' daughter's panties for the last month.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You jacked off into my panties and now you’re pissed I caught you…wow.”

“Can you just shut up? I’m sure your dad wouldn’t like me to tell him how you put them back in my pocket tonight, right?”

“Was that a threat, Spencer?”

“If I was going to threaten you, Y/N, you’d know.”

“You’ve changed, you know. Since I was a teenager. You’re different now.”

“No, I’m not. I’m very much the same.”

“You’re hotter now. I don’t know how that is possible because fuck did I want you back then, but now…” You let your eyes trail down his face as he continues to drive, jaw tense. His side profile had always been pretty, but with the bags under his eyes now more pronounced, you thought about what it’d be like to trail your mouth down his neck, what you would give to sit prettily on those lips of his.

Your tongue darts out to wet your own lips, as the fantasies grow to fill the car. Suddenly it’s his hands between your legs, making you moan like the whore he’d accused you of being earlier, it’s his tongue down your throat as he fucks his fingers into you, completely ruining you.

When you pull over, you’re certain that he’d heard your thoughts, because you didn’t recognize where you were at all.

“Spencer, this isn’t my dad’s house.”

“No, it’s mine. Get out of the car.” Suddenly obedient, you do exactly as he tells you, jumping out of the car as swiftly as you can and letting him march you up the stairs, right through his door and all the way to his bedroom. He pushes you forward gently but with a firm enough hand that you know he wants you on the bed. He doesn’t touch you any further as you prop yourself up on your elbows, but moves to another part of the room, grabbing something from a drawer before throwing it at you. Throwing them at you, you supposed, because when you looked down, you found your other pairs of missing underwear on your lap.

“I’m sorry for being so fucking dirty and disgusting, but you need to stop saying those things to me before I do something we both regret.”

You don’t reply, sitting and breathing heavily for a second before pushing your body further up the bed and reaching down. His eyes drink you in as he watches you hook two fingers underneath the underwear you’re wearing and drag them down your legs, not caring that he can see everything. You let go of them as soon as they’re hanging off your leg, holding them out to him.

“Peace offering?”

He’s on you in an instant, crawling on top of you so he can shut you up with his mouth, his hands, his whole being. You welcome him greedily, letting him take control as he pins your hips down underneath his.

“Little slut, you want me to fuck you so bad?” He says, a hand at your chest, pinching your nipple hard through your dress as you moan and writh underneath him. “Throwing yourself at your father’s friend like this, huh? Must be a little whore.”

He doesn’t let you respond, shoving two fingers into your mouth as you obediently wrap your lips around them and start sucking. Pushing your dress up, he groans at how wet you already are for him, swiping a finger over your clit carefully as you moan around his fingers, the vibrations shooting straight to his cock.

Lifting his hips, he unzips his pants in a second, not stopping to contemplate the consequences of his actions. His cock is pressed against you, gripped in his hand, but it’s hot and it’s heavy and fuck do you need it inside of you. He teases you with it as you whine around his fingers, trying to top from the bottom and grinding your hips up into him. He removes his fingers from your mouth reluctantly so he can hold your hips down.

“Spencer, don’t fucking tease me. Please just fuck me now.”

“Are all of you Hotchner’s this fucking bossy?” You roll your eyes, ignoring his question as you move to grab ahold of his cock, lining it up with your cunt and pushing it in slowly. A hand over yours stops you before it can get any deeper.

“Wait, I haven’t put a condom on yet.”

“Then you better make sure you pull out before I have to tell my dad exactly who it is that made him a grandaddy.” His hips snap up into yours then and with a few shallow pumps he’s fully sheathed inside of you as you scream at the feeling. You’d spent years thinking about this moment, but you’d never imagined he’d fill you so perfectly, stretching you out in all the best places.

His fingers return to your clit, working you up into a frenzy as you arch up into him, wrapping your legs around him to allow him better access. He growls into your ear with each thrust, before grabbing fistfuls of your ass and dragging you to the edge of the bed.

He pulls out quickly, repositioning you and holding your legs open wide as he stands between your legs, lining his cock up and pushing into you once again, immediately regaining his pace. He lifts one knee onto the bed, again pushing your legs down into the bed and opening you up further to him. The new angle hits deeper inside of you than you were sure anyone had ever been, momentarily leaving you breathless and soundless, listening only to the noises coming from your cunt.

Wet slaps of skin against skin, the arousal trickling down your leg to stain his sheets.

You regain your breath just as he knocks it out of you again, pushing you over the edge as you cum, hard, on his cock. Your head goes dizzy as you struggle to come down from the bliss he’d pulled you up into, legs twitching as he continues pounding into him.

You’re vaguely aware of some loud moans and screams, and it takes you an entire minute to realize the sinful noises are coming straight from your mouth.

“Fuck, Spencer, so fucking good for me, you made me feel so good, thank you.” His hips stutter inside you then, and you feel a heat flood you.

“Shit,” he pulls out quickly and sprays the rest of his load over your pretty black dress, falling down on top of you and reclaiming your lips passionately. You stay locked together in that embrace for god knows how long, rolling around back and forth in his bed until he finally detaches himself, pulling your clothes off and throwing a large old t-shirt over your head before grabbing you like an oversized stuffed toy and leading you into the depths of oblivion.

When you wake up in the morning, the pounding in your head is exaggerated considering you hadn’t really drank that much the night before. It takes you a shocking amount of time to realize that the pounding wasn’t in your head though, but instead a loud banging against Spencer’s door, ordering him to open up

You’re so comfortable though, you try to ignore it. Until your father’s voice is pouring through the paper-thin walls.

“Spencer, open the door, right now, or I’m kicking it down. You have five seconds.” The Spencer in question shoots out of bed immediately from beside you, scrambling to pull on pants and make his hair look like you hadn’t been tangled in it all night before running to the door.

You similarly panic around the room for a second, searching for a hiding place and grabbing your phone before settling on the absolutely genius position of under the bed.

You hear the confrontation like it’s happening right over you.

“Aaron, I really think you’re going to regret this.” David Rossi’s voice is calm, trying to talk some sense into your father, but he isn’t having any of it.

“Where is she? I told you to drop her off at home when she was finished drinking, but she wasn’t there when I woke up.”

“I can explain…” Spencer trailed off, and you cursed the man for being such a bad liar. That line hadn’t worked on you, either, so you doubted it’d work on your dad. Opening your phone, you check the time. 11:47. You quietly cursed yourself as you opened the multiple messages from your father.

You decide to help Spencer out by replying to one of them now.

“Hey, Dad. I ran into an old friend last night, and Spencer made sure we both got back to her’s safely. I’m still at her apartment, but I guess I forgot to text last night because I was so tired, sorry for worrying you!”

You heard his phone ping with the message, heard the tense silence as he read the message slowly, and heard the incredibly loud ping of your own phone, screaming from inside Spencer’s room as he replied.

Unfortunately, your dad hears it, too.

Pushing past Spencer, who in his defense is doing a great job of taking a stand by slowing down your father momentarily, Aaron Hotchner bursts into the room just as you poke your head up from the side of the bed.

“Morning, Daddy.” You try, hoping to sweet talk your way out of this whole situation.

“Living room, now.” He says, hesitating for only a moment. “You’re dressed, right?” You almost laugh at his pathetic tone before considering the situation, just nodding and walking out behind him as you try to make Spencer’s shirt cover more of your body than it originally did.

There’s a gleam in Rossi’s eye as you walk past him, head hung in embarrassment. You sit guiltily on the couch, and Spencer finds his way next to you, and you suddenly feel like two children about to get the scolding of a lifetime.

“What were you thinking?” He demands, and you grow suddenly angry at the indignant tone of his voice.

“Dad, I am 23 years old, I do not need a lecture for spending the night out.”

“I wasn’t talking to you, sit down. Spencer? Anything to say.” You slump back into your seat and wait for the answer just the same as your dad is, but it doesn’t come.

Instead, you feel a blanket being thrown over your legs, and it isn’t until then that you notice how cold you’ve been. He takes the time to wrap the material around your body, making sure you’re comfortable before he even thinks about looking up at your dad.

“Hotch, what is it that you want to know?” He levels his stare with your father, and it seems to dampen his anger a little bit. They’re having a silent war right now, in some kind of expressive language that you’ve never been able to decode, and somehow, it seems that Spencer is winning.

“Did you use protection?” Your sharp intake of breath is about all the answers your father needs, and you realize how majorly you’d fucked up by letting the conversation get this far.

“Dad!” you shout indignantly. “That is frankly none of your business.” He doesn’t look at you though, not even sparing you a glance as his eyes stay focused on Spencer, trying to figure out something you’re not even sure of yourself.

“For god’s sake, Dad, I’ve been in love with him for five years.” All the eyes in the room snap to you then, and if you hadn’t been feeling shy before, you certainly were now.

“Y/N, you’re barely an adult.”

“I’m sorry that’s entirely rich coming from the guy who had a child straight out of high school. I’m an adult, which is why I’m allowed to make my own mistakes and decisions, and I’d really prefer your support instead of your judgment.” Your father tries to speak again, to protest some part of what you just said, but unlistening, you groan in frustration and just climb directly into Spencer’s lap.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Spencer panics below you for a second, before resting comfortably on your legs, far enough down that he is spared your father’s dirty looks.

“Aaron, I think you’d better hear the girl out. She reminds me a lot of someone I know, so hard-headed these youths of today are.” You are intensely thankful for Rossi’s presence then and you send a thankful smile his way, just as your dad grumbles.

“Uncle David is right, you should listen to Uncle David.”

“Until a few days ago, you were calling Spencer “Uncle Spencer” so I’d be quiet if I were you, Y/N.”

“Heard.” He pauses for a second to think, the years finally etching into his skin as he breathes out a sigh of relief. You suddenly feel bad for not being home when he woke up, and you can only imagine how it must’ve felt to not know where you were, or if you were safe after everything that he’d already been through.

“I’m not against this, I suppose. But I swear to god if you ever go missing on me again, I will have an entire agency out for you.”

“You know where I’ll be, Dad.” He nods then turns to Spencer.

“You’re going to take her to a pharmacy in the next three hours to get emergency contraception, and then the both of you are going to come - fully clothed - to my house. It’s been a while since we had a family dinner.” You smile brightly up at him, and within another minute, it is just you and Spencer in the apartment alone.

You looked back up at him shyly and tried to awkwardly climb out of his lap, but he pulled you right back into him.

“For the record, I think I’ve only been in love with you for 37 days. Is that okay with you?” All of the confidence drains from your body as you struggle to find the words.

“In my defense, it’s not that I didn’t love you back then, it’s just that you were so young, I think I never considered it. And when I realized that you had those feelings, I felt so guilty about it, I never stopped to let myself think about what else I was feeling. And then you were gone and I didn’t have to think about it again, and then you came back, and I’ve been doing a lot more thinking now, and I think that-”

“I think that you should shut up and kiss me, Spencer Reid.” You said.

“Heard.” You giggled as he pressed his lips up into your own, pulling you further down into him as he held you tight. You didn’t come up for air for a long while, drinking as much of him in as you could as he gave you his heart.

“You know what this means?” You said, finally pulling away with a gasp.

“What?”

“You don’t have to steal my panties anymore. I can just give them to you now.” He lit up red underneath you and groaned as you laughed at his pained expression.

“As long as you never mention that to your father, I think we’ll escape this job and lives intact.” He said, a faraway look telling you he was likely running probability on those ideas right at that second.

“Just remember, my dad has two weapons and the ability to move you halfway across the country should he choose to.” You pressed your forehead against his, chuckling once again at his pained expression. “But also remember, that I’d happily follow you anywhere, Reid.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Hotchner. Oh, no, that was weird. We’re going to have to get you a new name sooner rather than later.” You gasped as he lifted you in his arms, standing and carrying you back to the bedroom.

“Spencer! What are you doing?”

“We need to go brainstorm some new names, too weird to call you Hotchner. And I do all of my best thinking in bed.”

“Really? I do mine in the shower,” you teased, holding tight to his shoulders as he continued forward.

“We can definitely try that next.” He said, carrying you through the door, and closing it shut behind him, hoarding your attentions for the rest of the morning.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #aaron hotchner #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid kinktober #criminal minds kinktober #kinktober 23

[cupidsdolll]

pairings: boyfriend!mafia!Harry x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k

summary: Harry's known for being ruthless in the way he does his job, a day out with his girlfriend takes a horrible turn.

content warnings. IMPORTANT: hurt no comfort. blood, guns, knifes, and death. please read with caution

authors note: this has to be the darkest story i've written and i just want to say please read with caution, don't read if you are uncomfortable with any of the warning written above. minors please don't interact. this may or may not have a second part following the aftermath.

----

It wasn’t supposed to end this way. 

Everything seems to go wrong one after another and Harry blames himself. If he hadn’t been so reckless, had been paying more attention he would’ve seen it coming. He figured they’d come for him eventually, there’s no denying that part. He had enemies, there’s no doubt about that. It just comes with the job, or the title he would say. Being a head boss of his huge mafia crew, he’s bound to have enemies because of the fact that he’s relentless in his ways. 

He doesn’t waste time with questions that most people ask before killing someone, he gathers the information beforehand and watches them before making his move. He’s mean in his acts, likes to torture them and prolong the pain before quickly putting them out of the misery (he just doesn’t like to hear their screams.) He’ll beat them and laugh while doing it, mocking their cries while he tortures them. He’s well known around the United States, his name sending fear through most people that hear it. No one wants to deal with him, to end up on his bad side, while other mafias will send their catch to him sometimes if one of their employees doesn't want to do it. He’s popular with the other bosses, constantly being invited to any events and to teach but he declines, it’s simply a waste of his time. 

While his hard exterior scares off anyone in sight, there’s one person who broke down his walls and quite frankly is  the complete opposite of him. While he’s all black and grumpy, she’s soft and sunshine-y, all bows and giggles and sweet smelling perfume. She doesn’t hang around him while he’s “Mafia Harry,” usually out shopping or baking or whatever because she can’t stand blood or seeing anyone get hurt though she understands why he does what he does. His men think he’s crazy half of the time, the amount of times they’ve walked into him smiling on the phone (when he’s not bossing his men around, barking orders over the phone or beating someone to a pulp) or chuckling to himself at certain points of the day is concerning to them. 

He doesn’t talk about his personal life to them aside from his closest man on the team, EJ who has heard bits and pieces about Harry’s girlfriend, his other men don’t get paid to listen to him gush on and on about the girl of his dreams. They whisper amongst themselves about how he’s smoked too much or needs to cut back on drinking and drugs and whatever else he does, they think it’s all gone to his head. None of them bring it up to him though, they know better than to do so. After all, he is the one that signs their checks and he treats them well enough that they don’t want to mess up any chances of keeping their job. They just don’t understand how their grumpy and uncaring boss can be so smiley and happy, especially before he has to take care of someone. 

He keeps her away from his job for a reason, there’s no need for anyone to see her, to know that he does in fact have a weakness. He doesn’t want to take a chance of a mole coming in and reporting to their boss about her. His main focus is protecting her and making her happy, always having her sporting his favorite smile. Besides, she’s too pretty to be around all the gruff men and blood and screams. He doesn’t want to tarnish her in any way, he loves her just the way she is and he refuses to be the one to ruin her view of the world. He doesn’t want her to end up like him, all grumpy and somewhat pessimistic of the world and always on the edge whenever he leaves the house. He wants her to keep laughing and cooing at cute animals they pass by, wants her to feel comfortable enough with him to always be able to shut her brain off and just follow him aimlessly. 

He’s a busy man, constantly having to answer phone calls and texts and emails and double checking surveillance videos to make sure they have the right guy, but he tries his best to leave work at the door when it’s just the two of them. He wants to be able to just enjoy the time together and not have to worry about who he needs to find next, wants to be able to look at her smiling and be content with that. He wants to enjoy their time together, doesn’t want to be distracted with his work duties and the constant sound of his phone dinging. 

They normally would just hang out at the house, watching whatever tv show either of them were interested in or just lounging around. That’s one of the main things that he loves about her is that she’s content with just existing with him, his past partner wanted to go out all of the time and party. He didn’t necessarily mind it, but he prefers to just unwind and relax on his off days; he just wanted to have a sense of normalcy, the peace amidst his chaos and his storms. That’s what happened when he met her. It was a cute little meeting that Harry still brings up quite frequently and is one of Y/N’s favorite memories of them. 

Harry was having a bad day, it all seemed to go wrong. While he’s always grumpy, he woke up especially grumpy that morning and of course he tried his best to not take it out on his employees, but of course still ended up being overly sarcastic with them, grumbling about whatever they did that upset him so he decided to make a trip to just breathe. He grabbed his jacket, hat and sunglasses and quickly let EJ know he’s leaving and he’s in charge for the meantime. He walked for what seemed like hours before he landed on a small coffee shop, a small run down looking building with plants in almost every corner and empty space. He figures this might help with his grumpy mood so he walks inside, the smell of coffee and different pastries fill his nose immediately, the sound of the different conversations happening all at once and the soft piano music coming from the speakers fill the space and his ears. 

He ordered a drink out of his normal, one that was recommended by EJ’s girlfriend actually, a tall white chocolate mocha with just a drizzle of caramel and it has to be iced. Those were her words exactly, it won’t taste as good if he doesn’t order it exactly how she says it.  The lady looked at him weird, a concerned glance that only says she knows how to do her job so she’d appreciate it if he didn’t doubt her abilities. He only gives her a nasty glare in return, one that flusters her so she walks away mumbling to herself as she starts making the order. He then walks to one of the nearby walls, leaning against it as his eyes scan the room and taking in the different personalities, mainly doing this to be aware of who else in the room with him (as if anyone who’s in the mafia would be ordering coffee, let alone from the same cheap looking building that he’s in,) but still just in case. 

Not even a couple minutes later, his order is being called out and he walks up to the register once more, hoping this will help his grumpy mood. He wasn’t paying as much attention as he should’ve been though, otherwise he would’ve known that this wasn’t his order actually. As he went to grab the cup of coffee, another hand reached out as well, one that was smaller and softer. Painted nails and a few rings on the fingers, and he immediately looks up with a scowl ready to tell the person off. It was his drink after all, what were they thinking? When he looked up, he was met with a soft apologetic smile and the prettiest of eyes, her hair held back with a big bow and an outfit to match. She smelt like heaven if that was a smell, sweet smelling and strong; a scent that matched her aura perfectly, although Harry wouldn’t call it her aura, he didn’t know the right word to describe it. 

He couldn’t go off on her, it’d be cruel and he’s not that mean, so he just stares at her. She immediately begins to fidget with her hands and he can tell he’s intimidating her. 

“I’m so so sorry! I just assumed this one was mine because I was here before you, but you can go ahead and take it!” She says through a breath, her eyes wide and face flushed. He furrowed his eyebrows at her, he doesn’t understand why she’s giving away her coffee if it’s true. He’s not gonna just take someone else’s coffee no matter his mood. 

“No, no go ahead. If you were here first then I’m not gonna just take it.” He says as he pushes the cup closer to her, he can feel the unnecessary glare from the worker at the whole interaction and it only irritates him further. 

“Are you sure? You seem very…um…. Grumpy and I’d hate to make your day worse.” She says as she pushes the cup towards him. 

This is all very silly, the whole situation. He’s just trying to be a gentleman and she can’t grasp that. He then grabs the cup and puts it in her hand, forcing a smile to seem as if he’s friendly and not trying to hide his frustration. 

“I’m serious, I don’t even know if I’ll like mine, it was a suggestion from a… friend of mine I guess. Enjoy it before it gets watery.” He says, but he doesn’t understand why he’s being so nice to her. Maybe because she’s pretty? But he doesn’t want to date her, he can’t afford to waste his time like this anymore.  She ends up telling him her name and asking a couple of questions to try to make small talk and unfortunately for Harry she’s fairly easy to talk to. They talk until his drink is ready, and then some more out the door as they walk to their destinations and then she has the confidence to ask for his number, which of course (and against his better judgment) he agrees. 

After that it’s pretty smooth sailing, conversations whenever they have the time, and of course a little white lie whenever she asks about what he does for work. Months later, Harry found himself asking her to be his girlfriend and of course she said yes. They usually spend their time lounging around and just existing in each other’s company, but today Y/N wanted to go for a little walk around the town. Normally Harry would be against it, especially when it’s right after he just took care of a member of a rival mafia who’s higher up on the scale and he knows he has several mad enemies looking for revenge. But Harry had thought that he’d been doing a good job hiding her from the public, having her dress as one of his men or wearing some sort of disguise after he told her the gist of what he actually does, so he doesn’t think much of it. He agrees but tells her they can only be out for half an hour, no more just to be on the safe side. She squeals excitedly before tugging on her shoes and throwing on one of his jackets and basically drags him out of their apartment. 

She shows him a couple of her favorite spots in town and gives him her favorite orders and practically begs for him to try, he will always try anything she wants. They talk quietly, wrapped in their own little bubble of bliss and this was Harry’s biggest mistake. He’s usually very attentive whenever they’re out and about, but he allowed himself to be distracted listening to her talk. She’s excited as she talks about some outfit she wants to get for the pet they don’t have, her eyes all bright and full of excitement. The air is warm against their skin and the clouds begin to roll in, dark and menacing and this is where Harry should’ve begun to take a hint. 

Things seemed too calm, aside from the storm beginning to roll in. It seemed too quiet, and then the rain began to fall. Small droplets of water cooled their skin and Y/N smiled brightly at the sky, silently thanking the universe because she always likes walking in the rain. It just always seemed so romantic to her. Harry didn’t think too much of it though he was still cautious. His eyes still scanned over the sidewalks and streets, trying to stay alert of his surroundings. He watched as Y/N tugged her jacket closer to her, a signal that she’s getting too cold but she’s always been too stubborn to let him know, she just enjoys being outside too much. 

He just assumed that time would be on his side with all of it, and had enough time to somehow throw the Gallegos family off of his tracks long enough to not have to be on edge anytime he’s out. He hates it whenever he feels as if he’s putting Y/N in harm's way, hates the feeling it gives him knowing he’s the reason she can’t just walk down the street or just even exist in this world. He’s too scared of someone linking her to him and then taking her away. Y/N says she doesn’t mind all that much, this is the happiest and the most taken care of she’s been in a really long time. As long as they’re both happy and safe, then she could care less. 

Harry didn’t see it coming. The breeze was picking up and the rain was coming down harder, thunder began to boom in the sky. The storm was coming, and it was coming fast. Everyone was scrambling to get indoors or to their cars and Y/N’s just smiling but still walking fast, she hates being too wet for too long. They were bumping into one another and Harry walked a beat behind her, just in case she happened to trip or anything. There was a slight commotion happening in front of them, the sound of gasps and the shuffling of feet as they were pushed to the side. Before long a man is running at them, a hood hiding his face and wearing baggy clothes. Harry still doesn’t think too much of it, maybe a burglary or he upset a store owner, but he’s still cautious. He walks closer to Y/N, his face turning mean in an attempt to deter the man from bothering them. It’s useless though, a good attempt at best but the man moves closer and Harry frowns. He wraps an arm around his girl and begins to move her onto the other side but the man is already right beside them, still moving. 

He’s an arm's length away and before anyone can realize it a knife is entering Y/N’s side and she’s groaning and leaning over. Harry can’t believe it, he frowns deeply and his eyes scan over her. He picks her up and begins to make his way through the crowd to find an empty spot, to make sure they’re safe before anything else happens. There’s more gasps and murmurs around them, more than likely the bystanders either assume he did it or they’re just shocked. It’s not every day that you see blood pouring out of someone. Right before Harry can get them into an alleyway and when he clicks on his ear piece to alert EJ about what’s happening, a gunshot sounds and the bullet goes into Y/N’s head, her blood splattering over his clothes and onto his face. 

He hurries into the alleyway, tears streaming down his face as he stares in disbelief. 

“EJ here, what’s up boss?” EJ’s voice comes through Harry’s earpiece. 

“EJ, they found me. They hurt her. I need you to get into all the security cameras on the strip and find out who did it, search for snipers as well. One Knifed her and someone else shot her,” His voice cracks on every word. He gently sets her down onto the ground near the wall, once he feels as if they’re far enough. Hidden enough by the shadows of the buildings but with just enough light to see the damage. 

It seemed as if the sky screamed with Harry. 

The rain was pouring down heavily, the clouds dark and the wind was unforgiving as it blew harshly against the trees and the ground below them. The lighting strikes were loud, bright flashes of light burst from the sky randomly and loud rumbles of thunder were deep in his ears. Mother Nature has to be upset as well, crying with and for Harry and his loss. He can’t believe it, the love of his life. Gone. Her breathing is shallow and her eyes are just barely opened, she doesn’t have much life left. 

“You fucking promised! You can’t leave me! Don’t hurt me like this… please” Harry’s voice cracks as he sobs over the body in his arms. 

“I’m so sorry, mama. I’m so fucking sorry, you didn’t deserve this and it’s all my fault. I knew me being in your life was a bad idea but I couldn’t help it. You made me so fucking happy, the happiest I’ve been in a while. You deserved nothing but happiness and smiles, you shouldn’t have to worry about hiding. I was selfish and I’ll forever blame myself, I should’ve let you go. I’m so fucking sorry. I love you, please. You can’t leave me. I need you.” He cries, his words are muffled into her neck, somehow hoping him speaking into her body will magically bring her back to life, keep her alive. He can’t hear anything aside from his own sobs, everyone else doesn’t matter to him at this moment. He’s sure that EJ is trying to talk to him, but he can only focus on the fact that he’ll never be able to hold her again. 

He’ll never be able to hear her laugh again. He holds her tighter to him, his tears landing in her skin and he screams. He screams and screams forever, he doesn’t care that he’s gaining attention from the people walking by. He doesn’t  care that they’re calling the police and ambulances, doesn’t care that he could be attracting his enemies. They took the only thing he truly cared for. He knows he’ll never be able to love again. There’s a few people trying to help, ask if he needs anything. Offering to take them to the hospital, even the paramedics can’t get to her. He won’t let them take her away from him, he can’t bear it. He can’t imagine a life away from her. They’re trying to convince him that she needs to go to the hospital, trying to take her from his hold. He just holds her limp body tighter, crying harder and yells at them. 

Eventually they’re able to calm him down enough to remove her from his hold and they begin to transfer her to the ambulance. 

“Don’t bother taking her to the hospital. Just take her to the morgue. She’s dead. There’s no saving her.” He says as he wipes his tears, everyone just stares at him. 

“Please.” He says and just walks through them, he doesn’t have it in him to argue. Right now, he has a mission. He’s determined to get revenge. 

He now has no reason to not hold back anymore, and he plans on finding each and every one from that group. 

He’s not going to play nice, and he’s going to take his dear sweet time. If they thought he was crazy and ruthless already, he’s going to prove that he’s insane now.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry edward styles #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles one direction #harrystyles #harry #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles angst

[octoberclidan]

This isn't You

Request: I've got this Supernatural idea for some time now and I guess I thought today would be the day ne being brave and sending you a request. I hope you doing fine. I love your stories so much and most of them I read already more than once=) so, sorry in advance, cause I'm a huuuge simp for drama, angst and hurt im case there will be a happy ending :D

Sam and female reader are in a relationship (don't know if I see the reader as a hunter or if she only helps them out with the research). After a hunt, Sam behaves weird towards his girlfriend, but that only when they're alone. In front of Dean Sam is the normal towards her. But when they're alone, it starts with him being distant. And gets worse when he's rude to her, shoving her out of the way etc. She talks to Dean about it, but he can't really belive it, cause he doesn't notice a change in his brother. Bit by bit she gets afraid of Sam and his behavior is getting worse when he is getting also physically rude to her (bruise her etc) and she's also desperate cause Dean doesn't belive her. During one night Sam seems to have a nightmare and hurts her really bad (choking and hitting or something like that), that Dean wakes up from the screaming and protects reader from Sam. So I imagine a witch cursed Sam and now they need to find the remedy and protect reader from Sam. Maybe you like to add after they cured him she's still afraid of Sam and flinches whenever he gets near her, afraid he's still the bad Sam. And it's hard work for Sam to gain her trust and overcome her trauma he being so evil to her.

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Masterlist

Story:

[Y/N] was sitting in the back of the Impala with several books laid out beside her on witches, and the two Winchester brothers were in the front, Dean driving, Sam flicking through a book of his own. It was a sunny day, and the windows were down just enough to let some cooler air in, but not enough to mess with the pages in the books.

"You sure it's a witch and not a wraith?" Dean asked, looking in the rearview mirror at [Y/N] and then glancing at Sam. "We've seen this kind of thing before, something sucking the life out of people in nursing homes or hospitals. Several times actually".

"It's definitely a witch", [Y/N] said, turning a page in her book. "It's one specific witch".

"Okay, yeah, but how do you know?"

"Dude", Sam spoke up, looking over at his brother. "She explained it all this morning, did you really not listen to anything?"

"What, before I had coffee? C'mon Sammy, you both know not to try and talk to me before I've had coffee". He tapped the steering wheel before glancing back at [Y/N]. "Mind giving me the run down again Sweetheart?"

She sighed and rolled her eyes at him. Dean was like an older brother to her - she loved him, but he could be annoyingly bad at listening sometimes. She took a deep breath and began to retell her story. "A few years back I was on a case, thought it was a wraith in a nursing home out in the middle of Texas", she turned another page of her book, trying to keep her mind on something tangible, since this wasn't a story she liked her mind wandering to, and she'd already told it earlier that morning. "I was hunting with an old friend, it was before I met you two. When we got there, we couldn't find the wraith. Long story short, it turned out to be two witches, a man and a woman, sucking the lives out of the patients to extend their own. They killed my friend, just caught him completely off guard", she gulped back a lump in her throat and rubbed the book's page between her fingers. "I only managed to kill the woman. I just injured the guy and he took off before I could kill him. I've been hunting him ever since. I think he's taunting me. He has this... signature. He reports unusually high numbers of deaths in nursing homes in small towns, I guess when he's getting close to moving on, to the local newspapers, and he always gives his name as 'Ross Murphy'", she looked out of the window of the car. "That was my friend's name".

Sam looked around at her and reached back to grab her hand, which she graciously took. She'd been in a relationship with Sam for several months now and she couldn't ask for a more caring boyfriend. His capacity for empathy and love after everything he'd seen, everything he'd been through, was extraordinary. "She follows the lead every time it comes up, which isn't very often", Sam continued for her. "Usually it takes too long, it's too far away and by the time she gets there he's long gone". He squeezed her hand. "But she caught the report the day it was released this time, today, and he's only a day's drive away. There's a real chance of getting him this time".

"Okay", Dean nodded and sat up straighter in his seat, gripping tighter onto the wheel with a new sense of determination. "This is your Yellow Eyes, we'll help you get him".

She managed a small smile and squeezed Sam's hand before letting go, nodding at him to let him know she was okay, and they went back to their reading.

***

After a quick stop at a motel to get a room and work out a plan, they made their way to the nursing home that had been named in the newspaper article. The witch would recognise [Y/N] straight away, he'd see her coming, so, even though [Y/N] wanted nothing more than to march inside and kill him, she'd agreed to wait in the car and let the boys go in first. She'd described him to them, and the plan was for them to locate him, let [Y/N] know if they found him, and then they'd get him into a room on his own and keep him distracted with FBI questions about the unusual deaths until [Y/N] made her way inside to face him.

She was trying to keep herself occupied by going through the different books she'd brought, and was just about to text them to ask for an update when she saw them walking towards the car. She was confused, an hour was a long time for them to find nothing, unless they'd decided to kill the witch themselves and leave her out of it. If it was the latter, she would not be happy with either of them. Dean got to the car first, opening up the driver's side and sliding into his seat. "Sorry [Y/N], he wasn't there. Handed in his resignation about two hours before we got here, he could be anywhere by now". Sam was quick to slide into his own seat.

"Sorry, I know you wanted this to be the time you got him", he gave her a sympathetic look and she sighed in disappointment.

"What were you doing in there for an hour?" She looked between both of them, and Sam spoke up.

"We decided to split up and do a sweep of the place just in case, ask some of the residents about him".

"Yeah", Dean said, "I spoke to a nurse there, she listed a few towns that she said he'd mentioned to her recently, so I'm thinking we can go through them, catch him before he leaves his signature". He put his hand into his inside pocket and pulled out his small notebook to hand back to [Y/N]. "What do you think? Want to go to the closest one on the list now?"

"Or we could head back to the bunker and regroup, keep an eye on death counts over the next few days in the nursing homes in those towns? I could call Charlie and get her help with coming up with some sort of monitor or notification system for that kind of thing. It would probably be more efficient than travelling around to all those different towns. I mean, some of them are pretty far apart". Sam suggested. The two boys waited for [Y/N] to say what she wanted to do. She was beyond disappointed that she'd missed him again, by such little time too.

"Can we just go back to the motel? I kind of just want to think it over".

"Sure, we can do that", Dean turned around to start up the engine, and Sam turned to face forward too. [Y/N] stared out of the window for the drive back, trying to keep her hopes up.

***

"Alright, you two out, I'll go grab some food", Dean said as they pulled up outside the motel. Sam and [Y/N] stepped out of the car, and she was too upset with how the hunt had gone that she didn't register the fact that Sam didn't wait for her, he just walked straight to the room. Sam always waited for her, he always wanted to walk with her, especially when he knew she was upset. She followed him through the door and set her bag down on the table.

"Can you put that somewhere else? We're going to eat at the table", Sam looked at her expectantly, and she was a bit taken aback by his tone, but picked her bag up and dropped it down on the floor beside one of the beds. "Thanks", he mumbled, looking through his own bag for a change of clothes. "I'm gonna shower". He turned and walked into the bathroom, locking it behind him. Sam always asked if she wanted to shower first, and he never locked the door when it was just the two of them. She stood in the middle of the room, wondering if she'd done something to annoy him, but she couldn't think of anything. She sat down at the table and stared out of the window, wondering what the chances were of them finding the witch before he made a report this time. Sam was quick in his shower, and when he came out he went straight to a bed, laying down on it and flicking through his notebook. After waiting a moment to see if he had anything to say, and he didn't, [Y/N] went for her shower.

When she emerged from the bathroom, Dean was back. The two of them were sitting at the table, taking food out of a bag. Sam looked up at [Y/N] and smiled, patting the chair beside him. "Dean got your favourite". Now even more confused at his sudden change in attitude, she hesitated, but walked over to take a seat beside him. He leaned his arm on the back of her chair and pulled the bag over for her to get her food out of.

"How are you doing now?" Dean asked, picking up a few fries. She shrugged, not really sure how she felt about how the day had gone. She felt Sam move his hand to her shoulder to give it a gentle squeeze.

"We'll get him. Trust me, with the three of us after him together for the first time, he doesn't stand a chance".

***

Sam remained his usual self for the rest of the evening, chatting with Dean and [Y/N]. He and [Y/N] shared a bed and Dean took the second bed like usual, and also like usual, Sam held [Y/N] close to his chest, stroking her back until she fell asleep. He seemed normal the following morning too, and when [Y/N] asked if they could go back to the bunker and work out the best strategy for hunting the witch down, both Sam and Dean were fully supportive.

However, once it got late enough and they'd all been sitting in the bunker's library for several hours looking through Dean's list and trying to figure out the best way to search for the witch, things changed again. Dean closed his laptop and announced that he was going to bed, and as soon as he left the room, Sam's demeanour changed almost instantly. He suddenly looked uncomfortable in his seat and closed his laptop too. "You going to bed too?" [Y/N] asked and he scoffed at her.

"I spent all of yesterday and all of today working on this case for you, and you're going to make a big deal out of me wanting to get some sleep?"

"What? No? Where's this coming from?" She asked, extremely confused by his defensiveness. She'd only asked if he was going to bed because then she'd call it a day too and join him.

"Come on, it's like I can never do enough to please you", he said as he stood up, tucking his laptop under his arm. He turned to leave but she stood up and grabbed his arm.

"Hey, wait. You can't just say that and then walk off!" She tried to turn him around but he shrugged her grip off his arm and continued to walk.

"Just do me a favour and sleep in your own bed tonight, I need a good night's sleep without you suffocating me". With that, he left. [Y/N] stood there with her mouth open, a wave of pain and nausea hitting her which she could most definitely describe as the feeling of rejection. She'd never officially moved into Sam's room, most of her stuff was in a room of her own, but she couldn't remember the last time she slept in there instead of in Sam's room.

"What's with the shouting?" Dean walked back into the room, now dressed in his MoL dressing gown. He walked past [Y/N] to grab his laptop, then walked back over to her. "[Y/N]? Why are you just standing there?" He looked down at her to wait for a response when he saw a tear escape from her eye. "Hey, what's wrong? Why were you shouting? Where's Sam?"

"He..." She swallowed and cleared her throat when her voice sounded shaky. "He told me to sleep in my own room tonight". Dean furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

"Why? That doesn't sound like him".

[Y/N] shook her head in agreement. "I think I did something to piss him off, but I have no idea what".

"Maybe he's just tired. I'm sure he'll be all apologetic in the morning", Dean gently patted her shoulder. "Go get some sleep, I think we're all tired". He smiled at her reassuringly before leaving the room to head to his bed for the night. [Y/N] sighed, trying to believe Dean's words that Sam was just overtired and he'd be back to normal in the morning. It was difficult, he'd never acted like this towards her. Sure, he'd been annoyed at her before, but she always knew why - like if she'd taken too big of a risk on a hunt, or if she'd ganged up on him with Dean during a prank war and gone a bit too far, but this time, she couldn't think of anything she'd done wrong. She walked towards her room, which was closer than Sam's was so she didn't have to walk by his room, and sat down on her bed. She'd gone for naps in this bed occasionally when Sam wasn't around, but couldn't remember the last time she spent a night in it. It was cold, and the room didn't smell like Sam at all. She changed into pyjama shorts and one of Sam's old t-shirts that she found in the back of her closet, and got into bed. It took her a long time to fall asleep, thoughts of Sam wanting to break up with her floating around her mind.

***

For a moment when she first woke up, she forgot that she was in her own bed. She stretched, and when the other side of her bed was cold, the memory of going to sleep alone hit her, forcing her eyes open. She looked to her side, where she'd usually find Sam, and there was no one there. Sighing, she forced herself up to go and get dressed and ready for another day of research, trying to push her anxiety about Sam to the background of her thoughts.

Dean was in the kitchen when she walked in, a stack of bacon in front of him and a cup of coffee in his hand. He looked up at her as she walked over to the coffee machine. "Did you get some sleep?" He asked and she looked over to him and nodded.

"Yeah, I did actually", she grabbed her cup when it was ready and sat down opposite him. "Look, if you don't want to research today, please don't feel like you have to. This is my case, it's on me, I've been on it for years on my own and I can continue it like that". She figured if Sam was annoyed at having to work on this case, then Dean must be too.

"What're you talking about?" Dean mumbled through a mouth full of bacon before swallowing. "This is a case, we work cases, it's what we do. I can't start a case and then just give it up when we've barely done anything".

She was about to thank him when a noise caught her attention. She turned around to see Sam walking through the doorway and the blood instantly drained from her face, having no idea what he was going to say to her. He walked over to her and leaned down, pressing a kiss to her hairline. "Good morning", he smiled down at her and walked away to get his own coffee.

"Good... morning?" What was going on with him?

"You seem to be in a good mood", Dean remarked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah, had a good night's sleep, ready to get back into the research", Sam sat down beside [Y/N], his words stinging knowing he slept well without her. "You seem a bit quiet, are you alright?" He gently nudged [Y/N] with his shoulder, she just blinked at him. He turned to Dean to see his confused expression too. "What?" He chuckled uncomfortable, glancing between the two of them. "Do I smell or something?"

"Why are you acting so weird?" She shifted to face him properly. "One minute it's all gentle touches and smiles and then the next you're all annoyed and telling me that I'm suffocating you?"

Sam scoffed and furrowed his eyebrows at her. "What are you talking about? Did you have a bad dream or something?"

"Don't do that Sam. Don't fucking gaslight me". She glared at him and Dean shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable at sitting opposite the two of them right now. He cleared his throat and mumbled some sort of excuse before leaving the room.

"Get a grip [Y/N], no one's gaslighting you". He rolled his eyes and took a sip of his coffee, leaving [Y/N] staring at him with her eyes wide open. Sam continued to drink his coffee, not saying anything else.

"Okay", she took a deep breath. "This isn't you. You need to tell me what's going on Sam, you're scaring me".

"Scaring you?" He scoffed. "You're a sad excuse for a hunter if you're scared of a normal person".

"You're not acting normal right now. Not at all. You're being weirdly rude, Sam". She watched as he finished his coffee and stood up, leaving his mug in the sink and walking out of the room without replying to her. She sat there for a moment until Dean walked in, whistling one of his favourite songs. "What's wrong with him Dean?" She asked and he stood beside the table, folding his arms and looking down at her.

"What do you mean?"

"You saw how he was, pretending nothing was going on even though he told me to sleep alone last night".

"I mean..." He shrugged at her. "I just passed him in the hallway and he seemed fine, he said he spoke with Charlie and they're going to work out some sort of algorithm for tracking down this witch of yours".

"So you don't think he's being rude or mean at all?

"Rude or mean?" He chuckled. "This is Sam we're talking about. Like I said yesterday, he was probably just tired, but he's ready to get to work today and help with the case".

***

[Y/N] kept her distance from Sam for most of the day, electing to go out for a supply run and then research in her room. When the evening rolled around, Dean came to find her to tell her that he'd cooked dinner for the three of them, and she followed him out into the kitchen where Sam was already seated. He hadn't come to check on her once throughout the entire day, but just like in the motel, he patted the seat beside him and smiled at her, seeming like his usual self. Once again she pushed all of the strangeness to the back of her mind, and let herself enjoy the meal with the brothers. They discussed their findings from the research, Sam explained the system he'd set up and that as soon as any of the nursing homes in their list reported a higher than usual number of deaths, they'd be notified. The conversation moved on to reminiscing about other witch hunts, then moved to funny stories about strange hunts which left all three of them laughing and relaxed until late into the night.

[Y/N] had almost forgotten about Sam's coldness towards her as they walked down the hall to his room, hand in hand as Dean walked with them. "Night Dean", she smiled at him as he headed into his room, and she and Sam walked into Sam's room. Sam let go of her hand and closed the door behind them, then started to take his clothes off, stripping down to his boxers. [Y/N] took her clothes off too, leaving herself in her underwear, and they both got into the bed. Usually, Sam would pull her over and hold her until she fell asleep, but this time, he turned onto his side and faced away from her. Propping herself up on her elbow to look at him, she paused for a moment before saying something. "Sam?"

"What?"

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Just go to sleep, I'm tired".

[Y/N] lay down and listened as Sam started to softly snore. There was definitely something up with him. He'd never treated her like this before, and since Sam was big on communication and letting people know when he was annoyed, she really couldn't understand what was going on between them. She tried to close her eyes and fall asleep, but she couldn't. She felt uncomfortable in the bed, like she wasn't wanted there. After twenty or so minutes of lying there, she gave up. She slowly and carefully pushed the covers off and stepped out of the bed, her bare feet cold on the floor as she crept out of the room. She made her way to her own room and slid into her bed, pulling the covers up over herself and hugging her pillow tightly. She cried herself to sleep.

***

"[Y/N]? You awake?" Dean knocked on her door. She groaned and opened one eye, grabbing her phone to check the time. 6am.

"What?" She called back, yawning and stretching.

"Get ready to head out onto the road, Sam got a hit and it's only an hour's drive from here", Dean shouted through the door. Sam. As much as she wanted to get out there and find the witch, she didn't want to face Sam. He'd obviously been up and awake for awhile if he'd gotten a hit and had time to go and wake Dean up. He must have noticed that [Y/N] was no longer in his bed, yet he hadn't bothered to go search for her.

She was quick to get washed and dressed and out to the car, where both brothers were waiting for her. She slid into her usual seat in the back, behind Dean, and Sam turned around to smile at her. "Hey, missed you this morning, was everything okay?" He asked. She searched for any sign of deception on his face, but he seemed completely genuine.

"I slept in my own bed last night".

"How come?" He furrowed his eyebrows at her. She gave him the same look back but turned to look towards Dean's direction instead.

"You said it was an hour away?" She asked, avoiding Sam's gaze. Dean started up the car and nodded.

"Yep, so make sure you're prepared. If he's in there, we're gonna want to corner him quickly before he escapes". The three of them didn't speak for the entirety of the car ride, it was early and neither Dean nor [Y/N] were morning people, and Sam knew well enough not to try and treat them like they were.

Dean suggested using the same plan as last time; the Winchesters would go in first and then call [Y/N] if they found the witch. [Y/N] agreed, but she was even less happy about it than last time with how weird Sam had been acting. She wasn't sure what was going on with him, but she didn't exactly trust him 100% at the moment. She waited in the car all but five minutes before deciding to go in after them.

She was greated by a nurse at the front desk, and she asked which way her partners had gone. After the nurse showed her that they had turned left down a hallway, she thanked the nurse and made her way down the hallway, smiling at an old woman on the way who said hello to her. She checked a few of the rooms along the hallway, but three were empty and one just had an elderly man with his family visiting. She reached the end of the hallway and found a staircase. When she reached the top, she was faced with another hallway. She stopped when she reached the first door on the left, which was ajar. She peaked inside and her heart instantly started to race. He was there. The witch was standing at the window, and when he heard her come in, he smirked at her. "It's been a long time", he said. She instantly pulled out her gun and pointed it at him. "Well, that's a bit rude of you", he sniggered and took a step towards her. "Why don't we try and have some manners? We haven't even introduced ourselves. You don't know my name, do you?"

"I don't give a fuck what your name is". She ground her teeth together. "You killed my friend".

"Ah... yes. He was your friend. Not exactly a fair trade, was it?" He looked back outside the window. "I noticed after I'd killed him that your friend had a wedding band, but you didn't".

"Yeah, his wife and kids were devastated. I had to give them the news". She took a step towards him. "And now I'm going to kill you".

"And they call me a monster", he chuckled. "My victims, my patients, are nearing the ends of their lives. They're in pain, they're lost in their own minds. I put them out of their misery. We put them out of their misery. You killed her. You stabbed her, you pushed her out a window, and she died a painful death. Are we really so dissimilar?" He faced her again and raised an eyebrow at her. "I killed your friend, but you killed my partner, my love, my life. Why shouldn't I do the same to you? Would I not be justified, taking him from you, making you suffer?" He looked over the top of her head with a smirk, and she glanced back to find the door being pushed open wider, and Sam walking through, instantly raising his gun and shooting. When she looked back, the witch was gone.

"Don't tell me you were in here having a conversation with him", Sam snarled.

"I was just about to shoot him when you walked in", she went to walk over to where the witch had been standing, but Sam shoved her out of the way, making her stumble and fall against the wall. She grabbed her arm, a sharp pain resonating from her wrist up to her shoulder. "What the hell Sam?!" She shouted at him, but Sam was ignoring her, looking at the space that the witch had been in looking out the window. He turned to her, his jaw clenched and nostrils flaring; she'd never seem him look so angry. He walked over to her, looking down at her and pointing his finger at her. "If you're going to stop to have a chat with every monster we hunt then we won't have space for you on our team. Get your priorities straight, fucking ridiculous". He scoffed. She cowered beneath him, Sam was a large and intimidating man, and being on the receiving end of his anger was terrifying, even for an experienced hunter. "I'm going to find Dean and tell him you fucked up, we're going back to the bunker". He didn't give her a chance to respond before leaving the room.

***

The car ride back to the bunker was weird. Well, Sam was weird. Dean didn't seem too bothered by the witch escaping, he just started to hum along to his music. Sam kept turning around to ask [Y/N] if she was okay since she was quiet. He asked if her wrist was okay after she tripped. Tripped. She didn't know what to say to him, any time she brought up how mean he'd been to her, he acted confused and so did Dean. It was like they thought something weird was going on with her. She didn't know if it was an act, or if he genuinely was completely oblivious to how he'd been behaving. She ignored him as she stared out of the window, thinking over what the witch had said to her. 'Would I not be justified, taking him from you, making you suffer?' She definitely had been suffering over the last few days, and she felt like Sam was being taken from her.

She was quick to get out of the car and go to her room, ignoring Sam's attempts at following after her. She closed the door behind her and lay back on her bed, wondering how on earth she was going to convince Dean that something was wrong with Sam. She decided to call Charlie, since she knew she'd been working with Sam on the notification system, to see if she noticed anything off about him. After a long talk (rant) on the phone about Sam, [Y/N] came to the conclusion that he was completely normal with everyone except towards her, and only when he was alone with her. She'd have to make sure that Dean was around until she figured out how to fix things, because after he'd pushed her and hurt her in the nursing home, she was scared of Sam.

She kept herself locked away in her room until well into the evening. Her stomach was rumbling, and when it got late enough for the likelihood of Sam being in the kitchen to be low, she ventured out into the hallway. She walked quietly down the corridor to the kitchen, and breathed a sigh of relief when it was empty. She quickly got to work, making something that was quick and easy so she could get back to her room. She felt ridiculous, she was anxious about her boyfriend walking into the room. If she couldn't figure out what was wrong with him, she knew she'd have to leave. She couldn't stay in the bunker like this, she couldn't live in fear of someone she loved.

***

It was late at night when she'd finished eating in her room, and she left to go clean up her plate and cutlery in the kitchen. She'd only taken a few steps out of her room when Sam strolled around the corner, bumping into her. "Shit sorry- oh. It's you. Watch where you're going, will you?" He rolled his eyes and shoved past her, but she grabbed his arm.

"Can we -" She was cut off by Sam grabbing her arm and ripping it off his. He pushed her back against the wall, the same sore wrist being the first part of her to hit the wall. She cried out in pain and slid down the wall, cradling her arm as tears started to spill from her eyes.

"Don't touch me", he snarled at her. "God you're so pathetic, crying on the floor. Get over yourself". He walked down the hallway to his room, leaving her there alone. She sat there, staring after him yet again, and just let herself cry. All of the pain, confusion, coldness, rudeness, the roughness, just crashed down on her. She couldn't help it.

"Hey, hey what happened?" Suddenly Dean was crouching down in front of her, pushing her hair out of her face and pulling her chin up to face him. "Shit, [Y/N] tell me what's wrong". He'd never seen her this upset before. Even when hunts went wrong, or she'd been injured by a monster and needed stitches or a trip to the ER, she'd never cried this much. When she continued to cry he gently grabbed her shoulders. "Breathe [Y/N], come on, you're okay". When she gave no sign of calming down, Dean looked down the hallway before looking back at her. "Okay, I'll get Sam".

"No!" She shouted, grabbing onto his flannel with her uninjured hand. "No, please", she sniffed, "please don't". He gave her a look of confusion but nodded.

"Right. You need to explain what's going on though, like right now".

"I... I think my wrist is broken", she looked down at it, it was definitely red and swollen, and if she tried to move it even slightly, a sharp stinging sensation ran throughout her hand and arm. She looked up at him, blinking the tears out of her eyes. "Could you maybe drive me to the hospital?"

"Yeah of course, and you definitely don't want me to get Sam?"

"Definitely not, he broke my wrist Dean. He pushed me, and not for the first time. I can't be around him, not like how he is. I know you don't see it, I know he seems normal to you, but I'm telling you. There's something wrong with him". She explained as he helped to get her up off the ground. They walked towards the car and she explained exactly what Sam had done and said to her over the last few days, and what the witch had said too.

They spoke about it on the way to the hospital, and Dean told her that he believed her, that he would help her figure it all out and that he would confront Sam about it later without [Y/N]. "You're like a little sister to me, and I know it sounds like a lie coming from me but I don't give a shit if it's Sam or if it's Lucifer that's hurting you, I won't allow it". He pulled up into a parking space before turning to her. "I'm sorry you've had to deal with this and I'm sorry I dismissed you when you tried telling me about it before. I'll help you".

"Thanks", she smiled at him. Dean really was like an older brother to her too, and now that she had someone on her team, especially Dean of all people, protecting her, she was a little bit less scared of going home.

***

"Okay, you should be good to go in just a minute. I'll write you up a prescription for some pain killers and then you can go on home", the doctor smiled kindly at [Y/N] as she finished up putting a cast on her wrist. She had a fractured wrist, not too bad, but it was still throbbing. The doctor left the room and [Y/N] turned to Dean, who'd been sitting patiently with her during the assessment.

"You remember when we went to the first nursing home, and the witch wasn't there?" [Y/N] asked, and Dean nodded. "Did you say you and Sam stuck together or did you say you split up?"

"We looked around the place together, but then split up when talking to the nurses and some of the residents", Dean said. "How come?"

"Just something the witch said. I think maybe he was there, and I think he may have done something to Sam", [Y/N] bit her lip, Sam being the only thing on her mind for days now.

"You think he's cursed?" Dean sat up a bit straighter. "I'll check his room and coat pockets for hexbags when we get back", he nodded.

"Yeah, that would be good. What if it's not a hexbag though? What if it's something we need the witch to undo?"

"Then we'll find the son of a bitch and make him fix it. There's no way in hell I'm letting Sam walk around cursed for the rest of his life", Dean scoffed. "One way or another we'll get him back to normal, I promise".

"Okay", the doctor walked back into the room with a prescription in hand, interrupting their cinversation. "You can fill this at the station downstairs, you'll pass it by on your way out", she handed the piece of paper to [Y/N]. "Come back and see me in six weeks, we'll get that off you and you'll be good as new", she smiled.

"Thank you", [Y/N] nodded and stood up, Dean standing with her and moving to shake the doctor's hand. The two of them left to fill the prescription and drive home. [Y/N] quietly hoped that Dean would find a hexbag and destroy it, and that would be the end of all her problems, but she knew not to let her hopes get too high. It was never that simple.

***

Dean didn't find any hexbags. He did however have a conversation with Sam, who seemed completely oblivious to how he'd been behaving when alone with [Y/N]. He told Dean that he thought [Y/N] was acting weird, he thought she wanted to break up with him because she'd been sleeping alone and avoiding him during the day. He was horrified when Dean told him about her wrist, and he went to apologise to her but Dean stopped him. Sam wasn't allowed to be alone with [Y/N] until they found the witch, and [Y/N] wasn't too enthusiastic about being around Sam even with Dean there. Sam respected her wishes, even though it felt like he was being stabbed through the heart, and kept to himself, only coming out of his room when [Y/N] texted him to say she was in her room and wasn't going to accidentally bump into him. They texted a little bit, and Sam was sweet through text, but it wasn't the same. She missed him. She missed his touch.

It was a week of this arrangement before Sam got a notification about another possible nursing home, and the three of them wasted no time in setting out onto the road. They suffered through yet another silent journey, this one nearly the entire day before they stopped in a motel for the night. [Y/N] had asked for two rooms, not wanting to share with Sam, but there was only one room left.

"I'll take the couch", she said quickly and she dropped her bag down onto it, noting that there were only two beds. Sam looked at her, a mixture of pleading and guilt in his eyes, but he didn't say anything. She avoided his gaze as she pulled out a towel and her pyjamas. "I'm gonna shower and then get some sleep, Dean will you be here when I get out?" She asked, not being able to address Sam without visions of him snarling at her.

"I think we'll take a look at the local bar, Sammy hasn't been out in awhile, right Sam?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at him. This was their silent conversation about how they figured [Y/N] would fall asleep more easily if she had the room to herself.

"Okay", she gave him a small smile, "Don't stay out too late". She finally looked at Sam and his eyes widened in surprise. "We want to have all of our energy to fix things tomorrow". She quickly walked to the bathroom and closed the door before Sam could say anything back. She sighed as she leaned back against the door, listening to the low rumble of the brothers talking briefly before she heard the room's door open and close. She pushed herself off the door and looked at herself in the mirror. "We'll find him tomorrow. We'll get Sam back to normal, it will all be okay", she tried to convince herself, but she didn't sound very convincing.

***

It took a long time for [Y/N] to fall asleep on the couch that night. It wasn't comfortable, there was noise coming from the TV in the room next door, and it was cold. She'd become so used to cuddling up to Sam whenever they were away on hunts that she'd forgotten how cold she could feel without him. It was late into the night when she fell asleep, and when Sam and Dean came back. They were both tired, and Sam instinctively walked over to [Y/N] and kneeled down, noticing that she'd pushed her cover off in her sleep, he grabbed it and gently pulled it back over her. He leaned towards her to kiss her forehead, and he sighed as he smelled her familiar shampoo in her hair. He brought his hand up to brush against her cheek and push her hair out of the way, realising that it had been too long since he'd properly seen her face.

Dean had drank quite a bit at the bar, and mixed with his tiredness from driving all day, he didn't think twice about walking into the bathroom and locking the door behind him, leaving Sam alone with [Y/N]. As soon as the door locked, Sam's hand in [Y/N]'s hair tightened, gripping a handful of it. She gasped as she woke up and tried to grab his hand, but he instantly covered her mouth with his free hand. At first when she looked at him, she thought a stranger had walked into the room. There was no resemblance of the Sam she knew and loved in the man in front of her. He looked angry, dangerous, and he was far too close to her.

"You", he snarled and shook his head. "You disgust me". She desperately tried to pull his hand off her mouth, but with one hand in a cast it was proving too difficult. She had no idea where Dean was, and she was terrified. "You're so fucking pathetic, having Dean act as a bodyguard for you, to keep you safe in your own home. You can't even look at me without terror in your eyes, I don't know how I ever liked you. I don't know why I ever wanted you. Maybe I didn't, maybe you were just there, and easy". He tightened his grip in her hair and pushed her down into the couch. "Life was better before you. Did I ever tell you that? When it was just me and Dean, I had my own room, my own space, and I wasn't constantly distracted on hunts by having my 'girlfriend' there, slowing us down". His grip in her hair suddenly let up, and she was confused until his hand travelled down to her neck and he began to apply pressure. "Life will be better when you're gone too".

She tried to scream, to bite his hand, to push him away, but Sam was far stronger than she was. She was becoming lightheaded, she couldn't breathe, and Sam's face was starting to become clouded by dark spots. She didn't hear Dean shouting, and she didn't know when Sam's touch turned to Dean's. Dean shook her shoulders and his hand cupped her cheek, but she couldn't open her eyes. "Come on", he said, leaning his face down to try and hear her breathing. "Come back to us, [Y/N]", he pleaded.

"D...Dean?" She whispered, her eyes still closed.

"Yes, it's me, you're safe, I promise. Can you open your eyes for me please?"

"Is Sam here?" She asked. "I-" She cleared her throat and it burned. "I don't want to see him".

"Okay, okay, you don't have to. Give me one minute". Dean looked behind himself at Sam, who was sitting on one of the beds staring at his hands in disbelief and confusion. "Sam", Dean said lowly, and caught his attention. He stuck his hand into his pocket and pulled out his keys, throwing them to Sam. "Hotel Winchester tonight". [Y/N] waited until she heard the door open and close again before she opened her eyes. She found Dean looking down at her, his face flooded with concern. "Do we need to go to the hospital?" His finger traced lightly on her neck, and he frowned at the red fingerprints left behind by Sam. She shook her head, and reached up to grab his hand in hers. As soon as he looked into her eyes, she began to cry. She couldn't help it. The person she loved most in the world had just tried to kill her. She knew he was cursed, she knew this wasn't really him, but it was his face, his voice, and he wasn't possessed, there was no one else inside him.

Dean pulled her up and into his chest, his hand resting on the back of her head as she wrapped her arms around his waist. He gently rocked her back and forth as she let it all out, whispering soothing things to her, trying to convince her, and himself, that they'd fix everything in the morning.

***

[Y/N] was alone when she woke up the following morning, and she was no longer on the couch, but in one of the beds. She looked around and noticed that the bathroom door was open, it didn't sound like anyone was in there. Her eyes landed on a piece of paper on the table beside the couch, and she got out of bed to see what it said.

You need to rest. We've got this. Call me if you need anything. - Dean

She put it down and looked out of the window. It was raining, the sky was a dark grey and it looked cold, but she didn't feel as cold as she had during the night. She looked down and realised her hands were covered by the sleeves of a flannel that was too big for her. She recognised it as Dean's. She must have cried herself to sleep in his arms, and he must have put her to bed after. She hugged herself and sat down at the table, staring at the note. She stared at the note until the sky lightened and the rain stopped, until the rumble of the Impala filled her ears and headlights flashed through the window, pulling her from dark thoughts. They were back.

She braced herself as the door opened, and she watched Dean walk in. She knew Sam was standing just out of sight, but he didn't come inside. Dean walked over to her and crouched down to look up at her. "Hey", she said. Her throat was still sore, and her voice was hoarse.

"Hey", Dean smiled at her. He glanced at the door and cleared his throat before looking back at her. "We killed the witch. I know you wanted to do it, but we cornered him, and it was the only way to break the curse".

"He's dead?" She looked into Dean's eyes, and all she could see was uncertainty. He had no idea how she was going to react or what was going on inside her head.

"He's dead. You were right, he cursed Sam in that first nursing home. Sam didn't remember it until we killed the witch. And uh..", he glanced at the door again. "And Sam should be back to normal, but we can't really test that without you".

"Yeah", she took a shaky breath. "He hurt me".

"I know. If you don't want to test it today, we don't have to. I won't leave you alone with Sam until you're ready, okay?" He gently squeezed her knees and she nodded her head.

"I want to try it now".

Dean raised his eyebrows in surprise. He could see Sam fidgeting out of the corner of his eye, trying to listen. "Are you sure?" Dean asked her.

"Yes. You can tell him he can come inside".

Before Dean could even call Sam, he stepped inside. He stood awkwardly in the doorway, desperately wanting to run over to her and gather her up in his arms, but he knew he couldn't. He suddenly felt more clear-headed than he had since the first nursing home. It was like he'd been in some sort of trance, and now he could remember everything he'd said and done to [Y/N] while they'd been alone. "Hey", he said.

"Hi", she said back.

"How do you want to do this? Want me to leave now or do you want me to stay for a bit first?" Dean asked, standing up from his crouching position.

"You can leave now, but can you just stay outside and not go anywhere?" She asked, and Sam nodded in agreement, scared of himself now too.

"Of course. I'll be right outside if you need me". He leaned down to kiss the top of her head before he walked over to Sam and patted his back. He left the room, and for a few moments neither Sam or [Y/N] moved.

"I don't feel... angry or anything", Sam said, his voice slightly shaky.

"That's good", [Y/N] nodded. 'Do you.. um.. feel like you're annoyed at me?"

"No", Sam shook his head. "I only feel love for you". He clenched his jaw in anticipation of what [Y/N] had to say to him. He was extremely anxious that she was about to break up with him and tell him that she never wanted to see him again. He never wanted to see himself again now that he remembered everything he'd done.

[Y/N] let out a cautious sigh of relief. "Sam-".

"[Y/N] I am so sorry", he blurted out, and for the first time, she looked him in the eyes and saw tears threatening to spill over. He was her Sam again. "I... I have no idea how to fix it, I love you, please believe me that I never would have hurt you if I wasn't cursed".

"I know. I knew there was something wrong with you, I knew you would never want to hurt me. I'm not angry with you, and I still love you". She gave him a small smile, but she could feel a lump in her throat as she swallowed back her nervousness.

"Thank you", he took a step towards her, but she flinched back and he froze in his spot.

"Sorry", she mumbled, looking down. "I do still love you, but I need some time. You... cursed you", she corrected herself, "tried to kill me last night".

"You're right", he took a step back again. "Yeah, you take all the time you need, and when you.. I mean, if you want to be around me again, I'll be here".

"Thank you. I've missed you a lot. And thanks for killing the witch, I've been hunting him for so many years, I can't believe he's finally dead".

"He won't be hurting anyone else. Or cursing anyone else", Sam added. He walked over to the door and opened it, signalling for Dean to come back in.

"All good?" Dean asked as he stepped inside, and both Sam and [Y/N] nodded. "Great!" Dean clapped his hands together. "How about getting some food? On me", he winked at [Y/N] and she smiled, getting up to walk over to them but still keeping a distance between her and Sam.

***

[Y/N] kept her distance for the next few weeks. She continued to sleep in her own room, though not very well as her nights were often accompanied by nightmares of Sam trying to kill her. She still spent more time with Dean and kept to herself a lot, but she had begun warming up to Sam more. She no longer flinched whenever he moved suddenly, or whenever he got too close. She no longer hurried to leave a room whenever he walked in. It was a painfully slow process, for both of them, but it was getting better. Sam respected her space, but was no longer too anxious to make small talk with her over breakfast, or discussing something with her while researching.

It was a cool, early morning when [Y/N] woke up from her first night's sleep that went without a nightmare. She felt refreshed and relaxed for the first time since the curse. She took her time getting up, enjoying the warmth under her covers before starting the day. When her stomach started to rumble, she pushed her covers back and quickly slid into her slippers and wrapped her dressing gown around herself. She strolled to the kitchen and paused in the doorway. Sam was at the sink, washing up. She leaned against the doorway and watched as he worked, and she felt no anxiety or fear as he stepped back for a moment to shake his hands dry and grab another mug to clean.

"Hey", she finally said, and he looked around at her.

"Hey, good morning". He smiled and nervously tucked his hair behind his ear, getting it wet in the process. [Y/N] giggled at him and his cheeks turned pink as he turned back around to turn the water off. She took a deep breath and stepped down into the kitchen. She walked over to him as he was drying his hands, and wrapped her arms around his waist, tucking herself into his side. He lifted his arm up and looked down at her, and not being able to help the smile spreading across his face, he lowered his arm down around her shoulders. She took a deep breath, his familiar scent bringing back memories of the two of them cuddling up together, and she relaxed into him. He turned so that she was in front of him, and he brought his other hand up to thread his fingers through her hair, holding her to his chest. He leaned his chin on top of her head and closed his eyes. His heart was beating quickly, but it was out of excitement instead of worry. "This is nice", he breathed out, and he felt her nod and tighten her grip around his waist.

"Do you have plans for today?" She asked, looking up at him and leaning her chin against his chest. He looked down at her and shook his head. "Can we just hang out today? Maybe watch a movie or something?"

"Yes. Of course, whatever you want to do, I'm here".

"Sam?"

"Yeah Sweetheart?"

"Can you kiss me?"

He smiled as he leaned down, and she leaned up on her toes to meet him halfway. The kiss was gentle, and neither of them could help but moan into it. [Y/N] slid her hands up to Sam's shoulders, while he let his hands drop down to her waist. When they broke away, [Y/N] could see nothing but adoration in his eyes. "I really missed you", she said.

"I love you [Y/N]. The witch gave me an insight into what it would be like to lose you, and I never want it. I don't want to feel like I have over the last few weeks again, and I never want you to be afraid of me again. I promise that I will love you and keep you safe for as long as I live". There was no hint of uncertainty in his voice, he meant every word.

"I love you too". She said, meaning every word too.

The end

Sam Winchester taglist: @123passwort @janineb86 @hobby27 @angelwiththeshotgun @pizzagirlxnsfwx

#supernatural #supernatural fanfic #dean winchester #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #sam x reader #mean sam winchester #protective dean #sam winchester angst #sam winchester fluff #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester x reader #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #sam winchester #spn angst #spn fic #spn reader insert #spn #spn comfort #dean winchester comfort #supernatural comfort #supernatural angst #supernatural fluff #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester comfort

[pxrxcxa]

Off Limits 

✶ One shot - is a part 2 to untouchable but can be read as a stand alone

Pairing | Eddie x his best friends little sister

Post summary | You’ve been in love with Eddie since you can remember. When he refused to see you as anything except for his best friends, untouchable, innocent, little sister, you worked out a way to get him to look at you differently, now you deal with the fall out of it.

What to expect | Established friendship, mutual pining, jealous Eddie & reader, lots of tension - no use of y/n

Post Warnings | Drug mention, F oral, Fingering, voyeurism, public sex acts, slight choking - let me know if I missed any

Word count | 6 K

Pt 1 | Pt 3 |

Authors Note | Okay first of all - Tumblr was being a B and wouldn't let me post, so I had to refresh and lost all of the tagging I did (which took me for effing ever) I'm posting this and I'll tag everyone once I've had a goddamn ciggerate. Anyways, I wrote a long ass part 2 and then decided I wanted to halve it and make a part 3 because I have an unhealthy obsession with ending things on a cliff hanger (sorta) but it's written and proof read and will be posted 24 hours after this. I hope this lived up to everyones expectations

As always, any & all comments/reblogs are most appreciated - Love, P. x 🌿

I jumped at every sound that drifted down the entry hall, flipping through an open novel spread across the kitchen counter that I wasn’t paying attention to, as I re read the same paragraph for the fifth time. My nerves spiked and my fingers gripped the next page, in danger of ripping it from the spine of the book as the front door smacked open and my brothers voice rang out.

I hadn’t seen or heard from Eddie since what happened under his Hellfire table. He’d ushered his club out as soon as the campaign ended, providing me with a quick escape as I fled from the room and didn’t look back. I’d worried about what to say – or not to say – the next time he turned up with Trevor, but I shouldn’t have bothered panicking about it because Eddie had been ominously absent without an excuse. 

I couldn’t very well go and ask my brother about it, his response making me choke up before I could even figure out the words, and I didn’t want to give myself away as the reason why Eddie might be avoiding me – and by extension Trevor. But tonight was movie night, and if Eddie missed this without a good enough reason – like a broken leg or death – Trevor would get suspicious. 

I definitely had not changed my outfit three times and spent an hour on my makeup just in case Eddie turned up for tonight. 

A shiver shot down my spine as I leant further over the counter, burying my head further into the book as I fidget, trying hard to look relaxed and unbothered as footsteps filled the empty hallway.

I couldn’t help my glance up as an unfamiliar footfall slapped against the linoleum. 

“Umm… Hi?” 

“Hey” The tall blonde smirked at me, helping herself to a drink from the fridge as her short mini skirt rode up her thighs. My stomach sunk as I watched her prance around the island bench, leaning on it as she popped open the soda can and glared at me over the lip of it. 

“Who are you?” I hissed, slamming my book shut as I straightened up. 

“Laura.” Her eyes flashed in surprise at my animosity and her smile was sickly sweet as she took a loud slurp, leaving makeup stains on the can. 

“Right… and you’re here why?” I was afraid of the answer. 

“Movie night.” She grinned and tossed her hair back as my face dropped, my lunch threatening to make a reappearance.  

“Or a movie date, whatever you want to call it, we met at the Hideout.” At that moment she glanced towards the hallway, and I spun around to face what my anger was internally screaming at. 

Eddie was hovering in the darkened entry space, turned towards the living room but facing to where I stood shaking in fury next to the stranger dressed like a whore in my kitchen. His brows knotted as he spared her a glance and his hand moved to rub at his jaw as his gaze reluctantly moved to mine. 

I didn’t know what I expected, something along the lines of how he’d looked at me between his legs in front of his throne, or if he wanted to pretend it didn’t happen then maybe how he’d always looked at me, like a kid sister. The dark resolute of disinterest bordering on anger was not what I thought I was going to find when his glowering stare met mine. 

Trevor chose that moment to burst through the doorway, shoving past Eddie as he came to stand around the bench. He slowed and rested his fist on the countertop as the thick tension hit him, his eyes flickering between our faces. 

“You ready babe?” I spun around as he slid his arm around Laura’s waist, accepting her kiss eagerly as he scowled at me over her shoulder, not knowing what caused the awkward atmosphere but blaming me for it anyway. 

“Wait she’s here for you?” My voice came out in an unplanned shocked screech.

“Obviously, who else?” He stared at me like he wouldn’t expect me to consider Eddie as a possibility. I tried to not be noticeable as I dropped my eyes from them and turned back to face him but he’d disappeared from the door frame.

“You joining us?” The microwave door creaked as Trevor slid a bowl of unpopped corn kernels into it.  

“Uh yeah.” The whole situation had caught me off guard, and I’d answered without thinking. 

I hesitated in the kitchen as my brother and what appeared to be his new girlfriend, giggled and groped at each other as the occasional pop echoed off the cabinets, I groaned and grabbed my water bottle as they started making out without shame, heading for the living room filled with the blue glow from the tv set that was geared up and ready to play Trevor’s horror movie choice of the night. 

I waited for him to acknowledge me, but his eyes were glued to the paused screen, leaning his head into his arm perched on the side of the couch. I briefly considered taking up residence in the uncomfortable chair directly next to the tv and facing away from it, but that would look more suspicious to Trevor than sitting next to Eddie on the couch we always shared. 

“Hi.” My voice was small as I gripped the bottle tighter to my chest, unsure where we stood after what happened between us. His eyes flashed to my face, softening as they moved behind me to see that I was alone. 

“Hey you.” He allowed me half a smug smirk as I took a probing step forward, returning his smile with a careful one as my heart unclenched a little. 

“Haven’t seen you for a bit.” I walked past his spread knees as I plopped onto the furthest end of the couch, trying to keep my eyes on his and not how tight his pants were around his hips as he stretched and tugged his jeans down an inch. 

“Yeah, had some stuff to sort out.” He titled his head towards me as his stare burned into me, and even in the cold space between us, the night time sky seeping in through the open window casting long shadows over us, I could feel the suffocating zaps of electricity that flared between us. 

It was strong enough to steal my breath away, too strong for me to have imagined it, and from the way Eddie’s eyes darkened as his eyes fell to my lips, he had to be feeling it to. 

I opened my mouth to say something when the entry hall light flicked off and Trevor strutted into the room, bringing the strong smell of butter with him. 

“Bunch up man.” He nodded at Eddie as he gestured for Laura to take a seat, handing her the bowl as he went to go grab the tv remote. 

I heard Eddie’s low sigh as he balled up his hands and used them to push into the couch, propelling him towards my end as I shuffled up against the very edge of it. The room blackened completely as the screen went dark, the quiet static creeping through the speakers. 

Fuck

In the darkness the tingling tension between us hiked up a hundred times more, almost palpable in the air. My breathing stopped, and from the way Eddie froze beside me as he went rigid from trying to keep the non-existent space between us, so had he. 

The couch groaned under Trevor’s weight as he folded himself onto the opposite end of it, slinging an arm over Laura and pulling her into his side from where she was wedged between him and Eddie. 

The screen lighted up, the words ‘based on a true story’ spread across it as it faded back into blackness and a scene of a happy couple making out at a lookout, took its place. 

“Thought this was supposed to be a horror, not a romance Trevor.” Eddie hissed, digging his hand into his knee as he picked at the loose threads and grimaced at the display of affection in front of us. 

“It is, dude.” Trevor glanced over the mound of blonde hair to shoot Eddie a concerned look. I burrowed down into the cushions away from Eddie, crossing my arms across my chest as I tried to melt away. 

Any other night if I was sat in front of an R-rated movie, I’d be jumping and letting out little squeals the same as Laura. But I was too focused on snatching my hand back when it reached out to brush against Eddie’s thigh like it had a mind of its own, barely catching myself in time. I was literally having to remind myself to breath as every little shift that brought our bodies together, sent a flash of heat from wherever our skin touched. 

He was driving me insane, but most infuriatingly of all was how unbothered Eddie seemed. Even though it felt like he was going to strenuous lengths to avoid touching me as much as possible, he was slouched in a relaxed position with his head leaning against the back of the couch, his hands resting in loose fists along the curve of his lap. 

I swallowed hard as his lashes lowered against his cheeks, his breath fluttering from his parted lips as the mixed colours of gore from the tv, reflected off his sharp features prettily. 

I’d turned my head too far and he noticed me, I dropped my gaze just as Eddie’s eyes slid to mine, watching my cheeks blaze in indignation at being caught. I felt his stare burning heat into me like an actual physical touch and I couldn’t help myself, I glanced back up shyly to find his almost black eyes focused entirely on me now. 

The upturned corner of his lips twitched as a tight coil constricted around my chest, making it impossible to breath as his eyes trapped me. I caught my lip between my teeth as Eddie leant across my lap, his fingers brushed my knees as he swiped up the bundle of blankets at the corner of the couch. 

“It’s cold.” He didn’t give the others a choice as he tossed a blanket into Trevor’s face, turning his back on him as he tucked the fleecy material into the contours of my body. I stayed as still as stone as Eddie draped it over my shoulders, his warm breath tickled my neck as he bent close to whisper in my ear. 

“If you bite your fucking lip one more time, I’m going to do it for you.” 

Fuck

I was lucky it was dark because my face was on fire, my breath blew past my lips in a shudder as Eddie sunk back against the pillows. A satisfied scoff vibrated through his chest as he lightly hung the rest of the blanket over his lap, his arms disappearing beneath it. 

Spurts of red danced across the screen as the movie reached the point of the killer going on a spree, his victims screams bounced off the walls and drowned out my gasp as Eddie’s fingers brushed against my thigh. 

His light touch traced across the fabric of my skirt, quickly moving down the side of my naked leg as my breath tumbled out in gasps. The thin blanket bunched up in my lap as I twisted it in my hands, gulping as Eddie’s fingers tips crawled over the top of my thighs, making his way to the blazing heat between them. 

Eddie kept his eyes on the screen as he bantered back with Trevor over the low budget gore effects, squeezing my inner thigh until I relaxed and spread them apart for him. 

I didn’t know what was in the air between us that made even the slightest touch feel like a lightning strike. But my body betrayed me as it became alert to every delicate brush of Eddie’s fingers, every inch that brought him closer to my drenched panties made me tremble against him. 

I buried my groan by biting into my fist but he wasn’t so subtle. Eddie’s head fell back against his shoulders and let out a sigh through clenched teeth as his fingers slipped between my folds, flicking up and down through my slick as I anchored myself to the couch, holding on for dear life as his finger tip moved over my swollen bud, rubbing constant circles until my legs were shaking so hard the pillows beneath us started moving. 

I whimpered as Eddie’s hand curved, pressing his first long finger inside of me, the intrusion burned slightly as he stretched me out before drifting off into a new sense of pleasure. I’d played with myself before, too many nights to remember where I pretended my smaller fingers were Eddie’s long ones, covered in bulky rings as they slammed into me. 

But out of all the times I’d imagined this, I didn’t expect to have to have to swallow my cries because Eddie was secretly touching me in front of other people. Eddie laughed loudly to cover my moan as he slid a second finger deep into me, leaning forward over his lap to block me from view as I grabbed his wrists above the blanket, using him to keep me steady as the feeling of his hand threaten to send me over the edge. 

“You’re actually enjoying the movie?” Laura scoffed, glaring at Eddie as I tried to blink through my tears of pleasure. 

“Uh yeah, I actually really like what I’m watching.” He smirked, covering his mouth with his free hand as he glanced over at me through his thick lashes. 

My head snapped back as I couldn’t stop the shudder and soft whimper that fled me as Eddie pushed up against a sensitive soft spot deep in my pussy. I squeezed my eyes and shook my head as Trevor asked me if the movie was too scary, not trusting myself to speak. 

There was a roar of a chainsaw and Laura shrieked. 

“Oh my god stop stop stop.” I scrambled as Eddie ripped his hand from between my legs, rubbing his jaw with the fingers still drenched in my essence as he glanced at my brother reaching for the remote. I used the distraction to shimmy my skirt back down my thighs, pinching the fabric of my panties to cover my slit again after Eddie had shoved it out of the way for himself. 

He turned his head to look at me with alight eyes as my chest heaved and I sat up straighter, breathing deeply as I tore the blanket off my lap and let it fall to our feet, wanting to hide the evidence. Eddie grunted and curled over like he’d been punched in the gut as he glared at me, his hand pressed against his crotch. 

I narrowed my eyes back confusingly at him before he huffed and his hands quickly dipped beneath his pant line, readjusting his hard on before the others noticed it straining against his jeans. 

“I cannot believe you thought a double date watching a gross horror movie was a good idea.” Trevor’s face flared in anger as we all snapped our necks towards Laura and the boys almost yelled over each other. 

“This is not a fucking double date –“ 

“-God no, she’s just Trevor’s sister.” Eddie shook his head with a look of – what I could only describe as disgust – clouding his face. 

Just Trevor’s sister

The rush of air that was knocked from my chest was quiet, but he heard it. Eddie’s face was cold and devoid of any emotion, hiding whatever thoughts burned behind those pretty dark eyes as hurt flared in my face. That hurt quickly spiralled in anger as Trevor laughed like Laura had told the funniest joke in existence and she glanced between us in confusion. 

I was only ever going to be the little sister. Nothing more, nothing less. Never my own person. The cold gut wrenching feeling of being used washed over me as everyone’s eyes settled on me. 

Eddie had been right. He knew what guys wanted, what all guys wanted. 

What he wanted.

My pathetically pining heart that had chased him for the last decade, cracked as I struggled with the realisation.

It didn’t matter how much I tried to fight and prove myself against the ‘innocent’ label they’d branded me with, because Eddie wasn’t going to feel anything genuine for me, he was just going to treat me like his little play thing. 

I was such a fucking idiot 

That knowledge made the corner of my vision turn red as my nails bit into my palms, the words falling from me without fear or hesitation. 

“You know what Laura? I completely agree with you, it is a stupid idea. And I’m really glad that the guy that asked me to go out this weekend, doesn’t think I’d enjoy watching a horror movie under a blanket for a first date.” I spat the words at the shocked face of my brother and the stone cold, barely concealed simmering rage of Eddie’s. His eyes followed me as I launched myself from the couch, kicking his feet out of the way as I sped from the room before my building tears could fall. 

The cold press wasn’t helping to dim the puffiness around both of my eyes, I slammed the wet cloth against the sink as I sighed and leant over it, glaring at my reflection in the mirror. My scream mutilated in my throat as I clutched my chest and spun around, cowering against the vanity as the pair of reflective eyes that scared me, emerged from the darkness. 

Eddie hovered in the doorway with a grim expression, anger tightening the corner of his mouth as he crossed his arms over his chest. 

“You’ve been crying.” His voice didn’t reveal anything as he pointed out the obvious. 

“Clearly, genius.” I swallowed as my eyes roamed over his bare chest, flitting away as he shifted and his plaid pyjama pants dipped lower against his v-line. 

“What’s wrong?” His jaw clenched as he stumbled over the question, his eyes flaring with the answer he knew was coming. 

“Why would you bother asking me that? I’m just Trevor’s little, innocent, stupid sister.” For the first time real anger flowed between us, pure undiluted rage as I stood my ground, copying his stance as I cocked a brow at him, daring him to deny the truth. 

“Untouchable. Remember?” My hushed yell was still far too loud in the quiet house, cutting through the darkness as something burned in Eddie’s eyes and tears threatened to make a reappearance in mine. 

“I never said you were stupid.” His face blazed with his own anger now as he took a few steps towards me. I backed into the few inches of space I still had behind me, needing to stay away from him to keep my head clear. 

Eddie muttered my name as my eyes closed on their own, squeezing shut tighter and his rough, cold hands cradled my face. 

“Open your eyes.” He demanded, pressing his hold on me as I shook my head. They flew open in shock and widened as Eddie’s chest pressed against mine, feeling it expand as he sucked in a deep breath and tilted his face towards me. 

He was so close it was hard to look up at him, his lips moved closer to me as he whispered his question, the words vibrating through both of our bodies as he pressed me to him. 

“What do you want?” It was barely a sigh, sending my mind blank as the minty smell of him washed over me. Eddie’s lashes brushed his cheeks as they focused on my quivering lips, patiently waiting for an answer that I couldn’t comprehend. 

I caved

I couldn’t resist him

Even if he only wanted what every guy wanted 

“You.” I didn’t say it, I just mouthed the word because Eddie’s dark stare had stolen the power of speech from me. 

“Say it again. Louder.” His jaw flexed as our shaky breaths mingled, our lips moving closer together as his loose hair brushed past my collar bones. He paused, just as his bottom lip caressed mine and my knees gave out. 

Eddie’s arm slid around my waist to keep me upright and the corner of his mouth twitched as he tried to force his smirk away. 

“Say it.” 

“You.” Eddie’s lips encased mine. 

His heat flooded through me as they moved in a way that I’d only ever read about in my romance novels. They were softer than his hair looked, firm but they moved perfectly in sync with mine. God, the taste of him was more than I could have imagined, somehow a perfect mix of his cologne and weed and cigarettes and our peppermint mouthwash.

He was everywhere, his hands touching each bare patch of skin that I needed him to as I gave in completely, twisting my hands in his hair to pull him closer to me as I revelled in finally having our first kiss, never wanting to feel the cold air between our lips again. 

Eddie groaned in response to my own one that tumbled from my lips, gripping the fabric of my shorts at my hip until I was afraid he was going to tear it away, his free hand trapped the side of my face, tilting my head up so he could attack my neck. 

Each gentle bite followed by a kiss elected a desperate moan from me, flowing faster from me before I could stop them, almost like Eddie was chasing after them and finding pleasure in each sound he forced from me. My head rested back against the mirror with a sigh as his lips traced across my collar bone, teasing at the base of my neck as his hand brushed past the side of my breast, seeming almost like an accident until I spotted the smirk on Eddie’s face. 

His hand tightened behind my ear and the nape of my neck as our eyes met, Eddie rose to his full height as an electric bolt shot through me from where our bare skin touched, straight to between my legs. 

A tremor of cold reality washed over as his hand moved to trace the outline of my lips and I remembered where his fingers had been only a couple of hours ago. His face dropped as I gasped and lightly shoved at his shoulders, slipping out of his grip as I pulled up the strap of my shirt that Eddie had sneakily slipped off my shoulder. 

“Don’t do this. Please, if you don’t care about me, don’t act like you do. I’m not some whore you can have when you want.” I couldn’t hold his stare as my breath quivered from me, sounding embarrassingly like I was going to cry as Eddie gripped the sides of the vanity beside me and leaned over it, forcing me to bow back against it and look up at him.

His jaw was clenched and his eyes flashed dangerously, Eddie ran his tongue along his bottom lip as his stare flicked between mine, trying to read something in them as his brows creased angrily. 

“You have no idea how much I fucking care about you.” 

I refused to believe him

“Like a sister.” I mumbled. 

Heat flashed up my arm as Eddie wrenched it away from his chest, pressing my fingers against his hard length hidden beneath his pants. I glanced up at him as he let out a hollow sigh, smiling without humour as he shook his head. 

“I haven’t stopped being hard since you decided to hide under that fucking table. I haven’t been able to stop thinking you. You have no idea-.” Eddie tilted his forehead until it was pressing against mine, letting his eyes fall shut as he loosened his grip around my wrist. 

I kept my hand pressed against him, my cheeks blushing as I waited. 

“-what you do to me. Fucks sake you pretty, silly girl. I tried to stay away because I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you. Look what happened tonight, I thought I could handle seeing you but I fucking can’tstay away from you. I love Trevor like a brother, and because of that, you’re off limits.” Eddie dropped his grip completely and took a step back, shaking his head to clear it as he stared up at the ceiling, clenching his fists together before he yanked them through his hair roughly. 

Eddie glanced back down at me with a sad smile as I froze, soaking up every syllable. 

“Like a sister.” He mocked me. “You’ve got no idea how hard it is not to corrupt you. I was able to stay away from you for ten years, but you just had to prove how bad you actually are didn’t you?” Eddie shook his head again, his hand squeezing my cheeks until my lips mushed together. 

“Not so innocent, am I?” White, hot pleasure cut through me. I’d won

Eddie groaned and threw his head back, muttering the word Succubus 

“The things I want to do to you, what I dream about doing, what I need to do to you. You don’t do that to a sister.” Eddie took a few more steps back, like he needed the space between us as a foreign heat spurred me across the tiles of the bathroom a couple of paces. 

“Like what?” I demanded, excitement urging me on as the walls between my legs fluttered at his words. 

“That’s not the sort of thing I should tell someone like you.” Eddie wrapped his hands around my wrists to pull them away as I reached up to cup his face, pinning them between us as he smirked at the pout on my lips. 

“Someone like me?” I scowled. 

“Virgin.” Eddie grinned widely, whispering the word like he was embarrassed.

“How would you know.” I shot back, flinching away from him. 

“Because from the first day I met you, I haven’t taken my eyes off you. Trust me, I would know if you weren’t one anymore.” Eddie’s eyes flashed a warning in them as his face coloured, his chest heaving as he ran his gaze over my body. 

“Show me.” 

“What?” I enjoyed catching him off guard for a split second before I pushed forward, refusing to lose my false sense of confidence. 

“Show me… what you want to do to me.” My voice sounded heavy with lust even to my own ears, a blush creeping up my neck as Eddie halted. 

Eddie’s hands fell to my hips as he pushed me back against the counter, kicking the bathroom door shut with his heel as he lifted me onto the counter behind us, sliding my legs apart as he moved between them.  

“That’s it. Keep those pretty eyes on me.” My breaths were shallow as Eddie dipped against my chest, biting at my breasts beneath the thin fabric of my shirt as he moved across my stomach, his hands tracing the trails of fire that his mouth left behind. 

My head pressed back against the cold surface of the mirror as I knotted my hands in Eddie’s hair, holding onto him to keep me on earth as his face pressed against my slit covered by my pyjama shorts.

I wasn’t wearing panties and Eddie knew that. His eyes glinted up at me as I peeked down, shutting my eyes and throwing my head to the side as he pressed his nose against me and rubbed it against my swollen clit, laughing deeply as I trembled and hooked my legs around his back to trap him against me. Eddie pushed my thighs up further until they were resting on his shoulders and I was sitting half off the vanity, my pelvis angled perfectly towards him as he looked at me like I was edible. 

“So goddamn corruptible.” Whatever snarky response I might have had, died on my lips as Eddie devoured me like a mad man. His lips latched around my clit as he tugged slightly, grinning into my thigh as a loud moan slid out of my chest. He squeezed my legs and shushed me before he brought his tongue to my puffy lips drenched in my own arousal and his saliva, spreading the mixture around and burying his face in it as I twisted beneath him and tugged his hair up towards me, begging for him to suck on my clit again as I whimpered. 

“Please Eddie please.” I arched away from the mirror as I reached up to cup my own breasts, surprising myself as I pinched and twisted my hard nipples until I was crying out from both the pain and the laps of pleasure Eddie’s tongue was erecting from me. 

“Uhh I’m fucking powerless if you beg.” He rolled his eyes as he moved higher on his knees, digging his fingers into the tops of my thighs as his teeth dragged along my throbbing bud, each tug from his mouth made my legs ache to snap shut and trap him there forever. 

The mirror steamed up as heat billowed around us, a lusty concoction of my moans and Eddie’s grunts and the erotic sounds of his tongue on my pussy was enough to suffocate us both. 

Something tightened just below my stomach, forcing my eyes shut as my legs twitched and I froze, almost seizing as Eddie’s tongue circled around my clit as his longest finger slid inside of my drenched hole easily, almost like he recognised some unseen cue to go faster. 

His free hand that wasn’t working between my legs shot up to shove his fingers in my mouth so that my gag muted my scream, coating my tongue in the sticky residue that his hand had fucked out of me. 

It all happened at once, something invisible broke inside of me and my legs snapped shut against the sides of Eddie’s face, my crossed ankles digging into the middle of his back as I arched up off the mirror, ripping his hair from the roots as my lips locked around a silent scream and choked on his hand. 

Waves of immense pleasure, nothing like I had ever been able to elicit out of my body myself, destroyed my composure. This feeling came deep from within my soul, no, Hell. 

It had to come from Hell because nothing could so devilishly intoxicating, I would ruin my soul searching for this feeling for the rest of the time. 

As quickly as it came, it was over. I slumped against the vanity as I melted, my eyes ringing and blocking out Eddie’s question as he rose to his feet, grinning as he wiped the wetness from his chin and wrapped his hand around my ass, crushing me to him as he dipped his head down to me. 

“You still think I’m innocent?” My hypothetical question came out groggy, like I was drunk as I clasped my fingers around the back of his neck. I couldn’t help the stupid grin on my face as I shivered, unable to block out the tingling between my thighs as my internal walls fluttered around nothing, begging for something. 

“You just came on my face, what do you think?” His grin was twice as wide as his lips moved to mine. 

“Yo Eddie, is that you in there?” Eddie’s face froze inches from mine as Trevor’s voice rung out from the hallway, his heavy footsteps thudding against the carpet runner as he headed towards the bathroom.

“Uh yeah man, just taking a piss.” I jumped as my brother’s fist pounded down against the wooden door, flinching as it rattled on its hinges. Eddie’s face was an exact image of fear the same as mine, as we tensed in each other’s arms. 

“Well I’m gonna smoke if you wanna come.” There was a pause as Eddie’s eyes snapped shut and he pinched the bridge of his nose, I could see his thoughts ticking over as my head swam, my thoughts turning foggy from the breath I refused to let go off. 

I tightened my hold around his shoulders as Eddie’s hands gripped my sides, lifting me off the bench and placing me with a feather light touch next to where the door would swing back on. His hand wrapped around my mouth as he turned towards the closed doorway. 

“I’m going to tell him.” His words were barely more than a whisper as resolve hardened in his eyes, speaking more to himself than me as my face narrowed in shock. 

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a sec.” Eddie’s eyes flashed back to mine as his hand dropped to my throat, not tight enough to hurt but he squeezed it until my core throbbed for him again. Eddie mashed his lips to mine, wiping the smile off my face as his free hand cradled the curve of my cheek softly, he pulled away only to whisper in my ear. 

“You’re not going on that date this weekend.” Eddie’s smirk disappeared from my shocked glance as he placed a soft kiss at the side of my neck, leaving me alone with my shiver as cold air replaced his hold and he tugged the door open, wide enough to slip through but still hiding me and my reflection, from view. 

“You been jerking off in there or something?” I pressed both hands against my mouth as my knees shook, my brothers voice barely audible over the roaring in my ears. 

“Yeah, couldn’t help myself.” There was a tinge of nerves and annoyance in his voice that Trevor didn’t pick up on, drowning in his forced laugh and my brothers boisterous one. 

“You need a girl man.” It sounded like Trevor slapped Eddie on the shoulder and I glanced up in the mirror. 

Eddie’s pained and honest stare met mine in the reflection as he glanced over his shoulder, a war raging in his face as he pulled the door closed behind him. 

“Believe me, I’m trying.”

Part Three

Also readers - if anyone’s looking for a slow burn Eddie x enemies to lovers, check out my Opposite Ends series (almost completed)

Copyright ©️ 2022 P.McCann

All Rights Reserved

#untouchable #off limits #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie x reader #eddie imagine #Eddie brothers best friend #eddie x y/n

[ayabeanworks]

Title: Hold me tighter

Synopsis: You knew Suguru wasn't well, and you did everything within your power to be there for him, including inviting yourself on a certain mission where two young girls were rescued.

Character: Geto Suguru x reader

Series: Let's Meet in the Spring (SaShiSu x reader)

Notes: Fluff, angst, swearing, feral!reader who probably hung out with Gojo too much, Geto pining, mentions of death and alludes to depression. AU where Geto doesn't defect.

Somewhat of a prequel to this AU.

You were amazing. You were strong. You were also terrifying.

That's how Geto Suguru saw you during a certain mission.

He and you had been assigned on the mission in a small town inhabiting only more of 100 people, with weird things like deaths and disappearances of the villagers.

You begged the higher ups to go because you were worried about Suguru's health, and you didn't want to leave him alone. You had noticed a downward spiral from him, and these days, it seemed to be getting worse. You also had a very bad feeling about this mission, and you were going to do whatever you could to make sure Suguru's sanity remained intact.

Even if the elders said no, you were going to go anyway. And that's exactly what you did.

"What exactly is this?"

Suguru had an expression of exasperation as he saw the young girls locked up in the wooden cage, bloodied and bruised, holding onto each other for support.

You could smell the thick scent of blood in the air, as well as see the dried, old patches of blood here and there when you eyes darted around the room. Apart from blood, there were other smells, similar to an abandoned alleyway where the homeless would reside.

Your jaw clenched and your eyes, widened with the need to see every and anything in the room, hoped they were lying when they landed on the girls. You counted the number of bruises on their limbs, the blood on their clothes, the blood on their face, the eye injuries each of them had.

It made your blood run cold. They looked to be just around 6-7 years old, only just old enough to understand and learn more complicated math in a school setting.

Not here.

Not here, bloodied and bruised.

It was like something inside you snapped, and all inhibitions went out the window. Like boiling water, it started to simmer, and you slowly turned to the two villagers as they conversed with Suguru, holding down your anger as your fists clenched and released.

"What do you mean? They're the cause of this, right?" One of the two who accompanied you both raised a hairy brow, his arm raising and trying to make a point.

"No." You could feel Suguru trying to continue being polite, but the slight edge in his voice was obvious.

"But those two strange ones are using their strange powers to attack the villagers!"

"I've already determined the cause of the incidents." Suguru gave a statement, one that he determined after being in the village for 5 days with you.

"My grandson was killed by these two." The older lady chipped in, a terrible frown on her wrinkly features.

Ugly.

Your shoulders relaxed and a light exhale released from your lips. You took a couple of steps forward to stand by Suguru, placing a hand on his shoulder softly, patting it a couple of times.

So they want to die?

Suguru glanced at you, his hand still up, about to summon a curse as he battled with his inner demons.

You gave him a little smile, one you'd give him all the time, but the underlying feeling made him tense. It was much darker, much more sinister.

"He's the one who-!" The girls from the cage exclaimed, but was shut down by the shouting of the male villager.

"Shut up, you monster!!! Your parents were exactly the same! We should have killed you when you were babies!"

"Shut the fuck up."

A loud thump from your fist embued with cursed energy, as well as a resounding crack from the same area tore a bloodhurdling scream from the middle aged male villager.

Suguru's eyes widened as his tensed hand lowered to his side, lips parting in shock at your actions.

That was the first time Suguru has ever seen you so angry you snapped. It sent chills down his spine and the hairs on his body to raise. His body tensed from the accumulation of cursed energy around you.

"Does having a broken rib hurt?" Your words were laced with worry, but with the unyielding mocking tilt in it, it was hardly convincing. "Do you want me to break your arm as well? That'll numb the pain a little."

You strode forward a couple of steps, coming in closer to the older male, crouching down slightly as you grabbed his arm roughly, pulling him in as your foot landed on the shoulder of the arm you pulled, about to dislocate his arm with a rough pull.

A strangled cry for you to stop made you raise your brow as a scowl adorned your face. Your eyes narrowed at the man below you. He was breathing heavily as he grabbed your ankle, trying to pry you off weakly, but to no avail. His grip was painfully weak, and he was struggling to breathe. You wondered if the broken rib pierced his lungs or any other organ?

"Oh? You want me to stop?" You taunted, an amused chuckle resonating through your chest. "Did you stop when you and the village were tormenting those poor kids? Beating them up and locking them up in here?" You dug your heel into his shoulder as you pushed him into the concrete wall, twisting it a couple of times for good measure. He writhed in pain as his grip on your ankle tightened, but you pulled at his arm, making him scream out.

The older lady on the side, who had been trembling the whole time in shock, suddenly let out a screech and flung herself at you, her arms flailing to hit you to let go of her fellow villager.

You grit your teeth as you grab the village man's arm with your left arm, using your elbow as an anchor point to throw a perfectly timed slap to the woman's face, causing her to hit the wall next to him after spinning in the air a couple of times.

"Wow, didn't know a human could spin so much. Especially for an old lady!" You light up into a smile. The smile didn't reach your eyes and was instead habouring a deep hatred for the types of people you were fighting, ready to rip off their arms and limbs if necessary.

"You can join you grandson now. I'm sure he's waiting for you."

What a sorry excuse for a human being.

"[name]..." Suguru called our your name hesitantly, glancing at the two girls in the wooden cage. They were trembling, hugging each other as they watched you. However, it didn't seem like they were scared. Their eyes showed admiration, and were widened in a surprise that could be interpreted as positive.

His eyes once again landed on you. You didn't even react to him saying your name - it was like you were in a state of mania, with such a fluctation in temperament and emotions, it felt like a different person. It didn't feel like you.

Did he even know you?

Who was the person in front of him?

He looked back at the girls, walking a couple of steps closer before trying to shield what you were doing with his body.

"Answer my question. Did you or did you not stop when you were tormenting those kids?" You looked to the wall where the woman hit, seeing her barely unconscious on the ground after the smack made her life flash before her very eyes.

The villager man screamed, "I-AAHHh-hah, you...you'RE THE DEVIL!"

"Oh, wow, you think I'm the devil?" You didn't even miss a beat at responding, giving him a doe eyed look to vouch for your innocence. Your expression shifted to a crazed grin, a laughter erupting in your throat as you pulled roughly at his arm, a loud pop ringing in the air as you dislocated it. You let him scream, collapsing over as you let go of his arm, allowing it to drop to his side as he cried, streaks of tears staining his shirt as drool flowed out of his mouth at the pain. You lean in, a smile on your lips as you coo at his current state, "Honey, if I'm the devil, then what are you and the other villagers? I think you're all devil's incarnate, so we should be the same, no? Why the scared face? Just like you said, I'm a devil. No, we're both devils."

You watch as his expression contorts to one where he wanted to scream something in your face, anger taking hold of him as the fear takes a seat. He was sweating, and the colour was draining from his face from the pain you inflicted.

You could only chuckle at his sorry state, clicking your tongue at him a couple of times. "But there's one thing you got wrong, darling. I'm not the devil, I'm your grim reaper."

You pull your foot back as the man's consciousness finally breaks, and he slumps over to join his fellow unconscious villager after enduring the pain.

"Didn't even answer the fucking question." You muttered, clicking your tongue once more. You fished your phone from your pocket and gave a call to the Windows nearby to alert them of what happened.

As you did so, Suguru watched you. He was frozen in his spot, unable to move. He was in shock at the way you handled the two just now. It was different to when you sparred together, and it made him realise you always unconsciously held back.

While he watched you release your anger at them, he had calmed down. His mind and heart less cloudy than before as he watched everything unfold before him. It gave him a rationality of thought, juxtaposed with your outburst. It almost made thinking a lot easier, with you by his side in such a state.

It reminded him of his best friend Satoru, and he wondered how much time you spent with him to become like this. After all, that mocking tone and speech was actually quite similar that it scared him - or, did you have this side hidden the whole time, but had control over yourself that you didn't break until the situation called for it?

By no means did he condone what you did, but if you didn't handle it the way you did, he didn't know what he would've done. He was so close to breaking that it was almost a miracle he didn't.

"[name]." Suguru repeated your name again after you finished your phone call, taking a couple of steps towards you.

"Hm, yes, Sugu?" You questioned him with a genuine smile. Your usual smile was on your lips as you tilt your head slightly at him, wondering what he wanted to ask.

He paused, wondering which was the real you. The switch was so fast, and oh so sudden. Your cursed energy had dissipated and wasn't so condensed, and your calm temperament was back. It confused him, and he wondered if he was in the wrong for thinking of such horrible things before you literally broke a person's rib.

He grabbed the hand you used to hit the man in the stomach and slap the other, seeing no injuries. Gliding his thumb over the areas that made contact, he closed his eyes for a moment, heaving a light sigh, before making eye contact with you again.

"We should get the girls to safety." You nod to the girls in the cage, placing a hand on Suguru's hand as you pat it a couple of times before releasing from his grip.

Suguru watched as you broke the lock of the cage, taking the girls out carefully. They latched onto you and murmured quiet thank yous as they cried in your arms. It hurt his heart to see such young children suffer from the hands of horrible adults. They didn't deserve this.

He walked over and leaned down slightly, placing his large hands on the girls' heads, gently ruffling their hair. He also ruffled your one too since you were crouched down to their level, a funny noise coming from your throat at the unexpected affection. Seeing your reaction, the girls glanced at each other and did the same, placing their hands gently on your head as they pet it like they did a small animal.

You laughed lightly, a sound so delightful to Suguru's ears at this current moment that it slowly wedged its way into his darker thoughts.

"The Windows should be here soon," You looked from Suguru to the girls, "We'll be taking you back with us. You'll be provided shelter and food, and life will be much better than here." You grabbed a hand from each girl, thumb caressing the back of their hand.

They fervently nodded their heads, ready to depart from the wretched village they used to call home.

The minute the four of you arrived back at Jujutsu High, you were pulled over by an angry Yaga, who began berating you for going on the mission regardless of what the elders have said, and that you were to see them immediately.

"This is unlike you, [name]! Suguru could have handled it on his own." Yaga pinched his nose bridge, obviously frustrated at your handling of the situation.

You crossed your arms, quickly glancing over at Suguru, the girls and the Window accompanying them. They were watching you, and the girls were getting tugged to go to Shoko for their injuries, but they didn't want to leave since you were getting yelled at.

You met Geto's eyes, which held yours for a moment, before you looked back at Yaga with a heavy exhale. "Well, yes." You said simply. Yaga stared at you like you'd grown another head, wondering why what you said was different from your actions.

"Since you understand that, then why--"

"So do the elders want to see me now?" You interrupted. You didn't want to hear it from him nor did you want to elaborate. It wasn't like they were going to understand what you were doing anyway.

Yaga made an expression he normally did when dealing with Satoru, before sighing. "They'll see you now. You're probably not going to get out of this unscathed."

"So what are they going to do? Kill me? The villagers are still alive and well, just a little bit in pain." You waved at the girls and Suguru as you left with Yaga.

"I'll be back in a bit. Gonna get ripped a new one." You joked light-heartedly. It was the elders, after all. They're going to rip into any and every material and weakness they had on you so they could bring you under their control.

But you weren't going to succumb.

No fucking way.

Suguru watched as you left, his waving hand falling to his side. He felt little hands grab his pants as you left, each one belonging to the little girls saved.

"Is [name] going to get in trouble for saving us?" Their worried tone of voice was so sweet, so young, it hurt Geto.

He shook his head, "Only a little bit. But they'll be ok." He placed his large hands on each of their heads and ruffled their hair gently, careful not to get any healing areas.

"I think [name] will be happy if you go to Shoko and get healed up." Suguru nodded at the Window, who tried to get the little girls with them.

The girls stared up at him for a moment, then let go and nodded, trusting his words. They each grabbed the Window's hands and asked them to lead the way.

And, Geto Suguru was alone once again with his thoughts, the whole fiasco weighing on his mind as his feet took him to your room.

Geto Suguru wandered why he sat in your room all the time. He practically lived in there now, with how often he was there instead of his own room or house.

You often dragged him when you saw him alone, to your room so he could keep you company, citing 'loneliness', but really, later down the track he realised he was the one needing your company instead, and he looked forward to when he was able to be around you. He also knew you weren't really 'lonely', but rather wanted him to know someone was willing to be there for him.

Could you read minds?

Sure, his other best friend Satoru wasn't around as often due to taking more solo missions, and Shoko was in the morgue, but at least he was able to see her. But out of the three, he saw you the most, and he was glad he did.

When did it start?

He wondered when he started coming to yours, now considered normal without any asking, without any hesitation.

He thinks it was right after the mission with Riko, the star plasma vessel. That was when you started inviting him to things way more often, trying whatever you could to fill up his time and space whenever Satoru and Shoko weren't there. So he was never alone.

The compliments, the time, attention, and love he was showered was almost too much for him when he realised it after this specific mission, and he had to lean forward and hold his head in his hands as the burden of his own thoughts made his eyes glassy.

The one who had reached out their hand, unwavering and steady, was you.

It was always you.

And since it started, the others did their best to support whenever they could, and that would've been an effort on your behalf, most likely you letting them know what you were doing.

Geto let out a choked sob as he let the tears fall in silence. Even though it tore him inside with which side he wanted to take when it came to protecting or not protecting non-sorcerers, he thought of you, he thought of Satoru, and he thought of Shoko. He thought of the girls you and him rescued, and the lives of the other sorcerers he went to school with. He thought of the non-sorcerers who didn't understand what it meant to live as a shaman, and he thought of the ones who cried and thanked him gratefully.

He hated the Jujutsu society and how it was structured. He hated how non-sorcerers were the bane and root of their existence, and the discrimination that comes with being a Jujutsu sorcerer as a minority.

Even though he was combating the very notion of accepting either side of the war raging inside him, he wondered how you were able to be as you are. How you were able to continue on your missions, how you were able to continue on the marathon race called shamantism? Did it not affect you?

But he knew it did, but how deeply he did not know.

He had heard you crying your heart out for Haibara, who was easily one of your favourite underclassmen, alone, when you woke up in the middle of the night before and during the mission you both came back from. But, even though he heard your sobs and cries, he couldn't say anything. All he could do was pretend to sleep and move so one of his arms was draping over you stomach, his forehead touching your shoulder as a way of saying 'I'm here for you'.

He would notice the way you calmed down when he did so, and it was something he noted for next time.

In his mind, he could recognise your smile and your voice, every one of your words drilled into his head as the tears fell onto the floorboards.

He was originally doing this for himself and wanted a solid foundation to base his beliefs off. Before, it was strong, but after the Riko mission, it faltered, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to continue down the same path.

And now, he was at a crossroad.

He wanted to trust in those who had faith in him, and the good in the people who were not the bad kind of non-sorcerers. Because the world had both. If his noble cause was just to protect the weak, those who weren't able to protect themselves and were good people, then so be it. Those who were corrupt, there will be another punishment waiting for them.

And so, he made up his mind.

"Sugu! Those elders put me under house arrest! For disobeying orders!" You opened the door to your room, half exclaiming and half grinning at the punishment given.

You gave a momentary pause when you saw Suguru with his head in his hands, hunched over where he normally sat at the foot of your bed.

With your arrival, he looked up, his loose hair slightly covering his face. But you could tell, he looked like he'd been crying, or was he still crying?

You took off your shoes, shut the door and immediately made a beeline to him, standing between his legs and cupping his cheeks with both your hands as you stared at him, searching his eyes for answers, for reasons, for everything. He stared up at you, sniffing every couple of seconds as his tears dried.

"Sugu." Your voice was a whisper, "What are you thinking?"

The softness of your voice didn't go unnoticed. Suguru always noticed. His hands hesitantly held your wrist, fingers wrapped around loosely so if you wanted to get out of his grip, you could.

The silence was palpable. It was heavy, and it tasted thick. He could only feel the warmth of your hands on his face and the warmth radiating off the close proximity of your body.

Since you didn't get an answer straight away, you gently swiped your thumb in the area just under his eyes like he did for you, on both sides, one at a time. He blinked a couple of times, the grip on your wrists loosening further as it fell down between his legs.

When you ran your fingers through his hair as a makeshift comb, he closed his eyes, basking in the affection you gave him, calming his tumultuous heart.

"Thank you..." His words were quiet, all too quiet that it seemed like you were the only one who he spoke to, in the bubble of the two of you, "For coming with me on that mission."

You hummed lightly as you continued to thread your hands through his hair, giving him a light head massage here and there as he struggled to find the words to convey his thoughts to you.

"I wavered." It was a statement, a statement that had many emotions in it, spoken to himself more than to you. It made you pause your movements, the raw feeling of his words sinking into you as you waited for him to continue, along with your massage.

"After Riko's death, those non-sorcerers, those monkeys, I can still hear them clapping, applauding her death." Suguru lets out a breathy sigh at the end, finally letting out his thoughts. "I used to believe the strong exists to protect the weak. But now...what about the strong? The strong are dying because of these non-sorcerers, because they aren't able to control their cursed energy, and they create curses that cause our deaths. There's no end."

"Being a Jujutsu sorcerer is a marathon race. What if...at the end, it's just a pile of our corpses? Our friends' corpses?" Suguru opened his eyes again, holding a sadness in his eyes he wasn't able to show until now.

You put your hands back on his cheeks. "Do you still believe the strong exists to protect the weak?"

You weren't able to answer this marathon race question. It was impossible to. Whatever answer you had, it would be negative. And you didn't want to dampen his spirits with something he already knew, deep inside him.

It was silent before he finally replied, "I don't know."

"The strong protect the weak. That was your philosophy, wasn't it?" A pause, "It's also what makes the strong, strong. You know, if there weren't any 'weak' people, you wouldn't even be considered 'strong', you know."

"As someone who's been saved by the strong and now becoming stronger because of them, I will hold that in my heart forever. Those non-sorcerers and sorcerers you've saved, Sugu, will remember you as their saviour."

Suguru's lips parted, but he closed them again, waiting for you to continue. He didn't know what to say.

"If you decide you don't want to protect non-sorcerers anymore and you look down on them, and it's the alternative to saving non-sorcerers because they're weak, then..." Your forehead presses on his as you close your eyes, "I'll let you go."

Suguru's throat became dry. He wanted to badly to say that he wasn't going to leave, but he couldn't deny the feelings he had when it came to whichever road he would pick.

"But, if you do end up hating non-sorcerers, you'll become one of those corpses you didn't want to see. And as a fellow sorcerer, I'd hate for that to happen." You lean down and move to hug him to your smaller body, pressing his face into the crook of your neck.

"Non-sorcerers are weak, yes, but they can also be strong. Not strong enough to kill curses, but strong in other aspects. Strength is not equal to pulverising curses." You gently pet the back of his head, "Riko was strong, wasn't she? She's not a bad non-sorcerer. She was almost like a friend to you, wasn't she?"

Suguru's arms wrap around your mid section, grabbing onto the back of your shirt like life support. "...yes." He managed to whisper.

"There's good and bad in everyone, Sugu, regardless of if they're sorcerers or not. If you're worried about the sorcerers in the world, wouldn't it be best to fix it at its core rather than to to just kill them all?"

Suguru didn't respond. He already had his answer.

You felt a wetness on your neck as his body shook, sobs ripping through his body as relief filled his veins at your words. You hummed, gently patting his back as he cried.

You knew, Suguru was a soft person inside. No matter how troublesome he and Satoru can become when they're together, Suguru was undoubtedly the softer one. Satoru also had a soft heart, but he had walls and walls around so it wasn't easily penetrated. Whereas for Suguru, the environment he's in affects him easier, and the suffering of others will easily shake him. Especially with his job as a sorcerer, it was even harder since it was a job with an abundance of negative energy.

You must've stayed like this for a while, and you felt him move to face you, his face still in your neck. You could feel his exhales on your skin, a soft hum from him as he murmured an apology to you into your skin.

"You okay there, Sugu?" You leaned your head on his, nuzzling a little.

He let go of the back of your shirt, and instead grabbed your waist and under your legs, bringing you to his lap as you yelped in surprise at the sudden lightweightedness.

"Sorry, it's easier this way." He adjusted you so you were directly in front of him, your legs to the side on the bed. His arms encased you as he hugged you tighter than before, not wanting to let go. He wanted to feel your pulse and heartbeat, to know you're present and there with him.

He buried his face into the crook of your neck again, his eyes closing as he tried to burrow impossibly closer, just like you're his lifeline.

You didn't mind since occasionally he would do this, but as of now, this was the most intimate he had become with you, and it was making your heartbeat speed up.

You tried to calm yourself as you continued to pat his back and smooth the back of his hair, chin on his shoulder as you leaned your head on his.

"Your heart's racing." You felt his lips curl into a smile, "You like this?"

Slightly annoyed by his teasing during such a tender moment, especially for him, the next pat was a lot harsher than the rest of them. You pouted as he chuckled into your skin, loosening his grip. He kept one arm around you as he wiped any tears with his sleeve, gently patting the areas on you he made damp.

You noticed he looked a lot better. A lot lighter, even. Even though he was crying, whatever was weighing him down seemed to have lessened or disappeared, like it was never there in the first place. It was like the Suguru pre star plasma vessel mission had returned.

You unknowingly held your breath, wondering if the Suguru in front of you would go back to the one who was conflicted.

"Do I have something on my face?" Suguru could feel your intense gaze on him the whole time, and he felt like he was under a microscope at how strong your gaze was.

He suddenly became self-conscious; did he look that bad after crying?

"You're back." You stated, almost incredulously.

At the tip of his tongue, he wanted to ask 'I'm back?', but he realised, you meant him. You meant the him from before Riko, the him before he started spiralling. The him who had a strong resolve and foundation.

"I've always been here." He gave you a little smile, the smile sincerely reaching his eyes as he gave you a little forehead bump.

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks at such a gentle motion, not unnoticed by him.

"You blush at this but not the hugging before?" He stared at you like you were the strangest thing on this earth, but the mirth was clearly dancing around his purple eyes, making you hit him lightly in the chest, giving him an unimpressed look.

"Welcome back, I guess." You rolled your eyes playfully at him, but you were glad he was back.

"So what's this about a house arrest for you?" Suddenly, you remembered you'd come to deliver the news to him after your meeting with the elders.

"Ah, yeah, so I'm under house arrest! For 1 week! They told me to not leave the school and if I do, they're gonna do something." You tried to recall the information, but all you had in your head was Suguru, Suguru and more Suguru.

You blinked once, twice, thrice, but you couldn't remember shit all. "Maybe I should get 'toru to bail me out if I get in trouble. He can threaten them easily."

"...why not me?" Suguru gave his best attempt at puppy dog eyes, making your brows raise at him for the effort.

"Nice try," You pinch his cheeks, trying to stop the smile from pulling your lips upwards, "I don't want you going alone, so go with 'toru if you want to. Double trouble from the two strongest sorcerers, right?" You finally give him a grin as he held a baffled look.

Then, he laughed.

The sound was like a melody to your ears, one which was so genuine and heartfelt, one you hadn't heard in so long. It moved you.

"I'll do that, then. Does that mean you have to stay here the whole time?"

"Nah, as long as I'm in Tengen's barrier."

"That's a pretty good holiday for you."

"I know right?"

"You've worked hard enough so I think you deserve some rest."

The chatter continued until the night, until you fell asleep on him from how tiring the whole day was. Geto cradled you close, like you were made of glass (not that he wasn't hugging you like his lifeline before). Instead of caressing your cheek like he was used to, this time, he mustered up some courage, gave a quick peck on your cheek, then nuzzled your cheeks together as he stood up and got you into your bed.

As he tucked you in, he gently pushed the stray hairs out of your face, his finger caressing your cheek ever so gently.

"...thank you, [name]." He spoke so, so softly he barely heard his own voice, a calm and gentle smile on his face as he reluctantly left. He was going to hop into bed next to you to sleep as well, but he figured he should clean up first before doing so.

Turns out, Suguru didn't have any missions in the same week you were under house arrest.

You were still sleeping even after Suguru tried to wake you up in the morning, so he just left you there so you could rest. After all, you probably needed some extra time since you worked so hard for him.

"I'm surprised I don't have any missions this week." The martial artist sat down with a cup of tea.

"Wonder why that is?" Shoko had shrugged off the question, eating together with the curse manipulation user in the common area.

She already knew why that was, since she heard it all from you, but she wasn't going to tell Suguru so easily.

"[name] probably complained to the elders." Suguru stated with a laugh. He could see it happening, with you giving them attitude until you got what you want. Almost like a kid trowing a tantrum.

Shoko let out a hum as she agreed. There was a little more to the story, but he didn't need to know yet.

They were so worried about you they actually begged the elders this time. Probably the first time they've begged them, so they allowed it with one condition: [name] had to do whatever they wanted for a week after their house arrest.

But Suguru didn't need to know that, at least, until [name] told him, which they probably didn't want to do.

Seeing Shoko's nonchalant personality was normal, but for Suguru he felt like there was definitely something she knew. After all, [name] was at Shoko's before they came back to their room yesterday. And knowing the elders and from what [name]'s said about them, Suguru assumed there would be some form of condition.

Seeing he wasn't convinced, Shoko decided she was going to allude to it a little, since [name] probably wasn't going to say anything.

To speed up the process, was Shoko's determining factor.

"I think they're going to be quite busy after their week off. My spider senses are telling me this." She joked, leaning back on the chair.

Suguru thought for a moment, "So the elders are going to force [name] to go on difficult missions."

Shoko shrugged, taking out a cigarette and placing it between her lips. She didn't light it inside, but it didn't feel right without it. "Aren't they already doing that?"

Geto didn't give a response, thinking what the elders would do especially since [name] was involved. From his observations, they were much more strict on you than they were on anybody else. Satoru could get away with things because he was one of the strongest and could actually end them and everything else, but you on the other hand, were not able to do that and effectively just danced in the palm of their hands trying to bite your way out.

He let out a low hum in thought. If he was granted no missions during this time and you were under house arrest, but Shoko alluded to you being busy the next week even after knowing you'll be taking up missions just like usual, that effectively means something was up. Was there another variable he wasn't sure about? Did you have something to do with him having no missions right now?

"Shoko, why not just tell me [name] had a deal with the elders?" He let out a sigh at the roundabout way of getting to the answer. "I'm guessing they agreed to do whatever the elders asked for, for 1 week, right? In exchange for giving me a break and going on that mission even after getting told not to."

"Bingo." Shoko made finger guns at his correct answer. She definitely didn't tell him, he just figured it out on his own, she tells herself.

Suguru's lips pressed into a thin line, wondering what the elders had planned. After all, you were a semi grade-1 sorcerer, but you kept getting pushed into missions which were grade 1 or higher, somehow managing to always come back alive even after facing a grade 1 curse.

Which is why the elders were always assigning you to go on difficult missions.

"You know, the girls you brought back, Mimiko and Nanako, are doing well. They've been put into a foster home associated with Jujutsu High, so you'll be able to see them if you want." Shoko forgot to give him this piece of information.

"That's good to hear." He smiled, now knowing the girls were doing well. It brought him back to the day prior, where he was so, so close to losing it and choosing another path. "I'm sure [name] would like to see them too."

Shoko shifted in her seat when she heard your name from his lips this time, finding it was different to earlier. It was softer? She couldn't quite put her finger to it, but it was like his soft spot for you was even softer than before, if that could even be a thing.

"You sound like a lovesick fool." Shoko commented with a non-commited laugh. She was just teasing, but she was also curious.

Suguru rolled his eyes at her, taking a sip of his tea. "They saved them too. Of course they'd want to see them."

He didn't agree nor deny, making Shoko raise her brows in surprise.

"I heard my name." You yawned as you entered the common area, still in the clothes you wore yesterday.

"Looks like you slept well." Geto examined your hair, which stuck up in some places, a smile on his face at the scene.

You hummed in response, giving a wave to both of them before sauntering over to the kitchenette to make yourself a glass of warm water, uncaring of the eyes trailing after you.

Shoko's gaze landed on Suguru, watching him watch you.

His gaze on you was definitely different. She definitely wasn't seeing things. She swore it was softer than before. The way his expression changed to a more relaxed one the minute you came into the picture, the way his shoulders relaxed when he talked to you, the tone of his voice shifting spectacularly to include an affectionate tilt, all of it was presented right in from of Shoko, who had known Suguru for a while, so she could tell these differences easily.

Wow, damn. He's down bad.

She smirked to herself, wanting so badly to tell Satoru of Suguru's little crush.

Except, both of them would probably deny it to the ends of the earth.

You slip into the seat next to Geto, eyes half open as you slowly blinked away your sleepiness, drinking the water here and there. Suguru laughed lightly at your state, scooting a little closer to detangle your hair with his fingers, running his hands through your hair to fix it.

Shoko's eyes nearly bulged out of her head, watching this blatant public display of affection. She was used to Suguru being a little touchy with [name] and expressing it here and there, but this was a new high. It made her sip the coffee she'd forgotten she had on the side, not sure if she should be there to experience such a thing.

You hummed in content, "Thanks Sugu."

"Should've brushed your hair before coming out." He gently chided, taking a sip of his tea.

"Probably should've changed, too..." You yawn again, taking another sip of water. "But yeah, I'd like to see the kids too, Shoko, when they're ready and all healed up."

Shoko, having been distracted for a moment, returned to her nonchalant self as she grinned, promising to let both of you know when that was possible.

The week of house arrest was a blessing for you, especially before the files for the missions you were undertaking were handed to you by a Window.

There were 2 missions you were asked to undertake - a grade 1 solo mission, and then a special grade one with Satoru.

A special grade with Satoru? If you didn't already feel alarmed, you were definitely feeling alarmed now. Hell, if Satoru is on any missions, it meant that there was serious harm that could be done.

You flipped through the papers wordlessly, your expression changing here and there before going back to normal.

These were the two missions asked by the elders, the ones who you were to obey for the week.

There can't be anything good here, you thought, going through the documents a second time to remember the information.

"Are you going on a mission soon?" Suguru suddenly appeared out of nowhere, nearly making you jump in surprise. His face was right next to yours, overlooking your shoulders to peer at the documents.

"Yeah, these two are for next week. One solo, one with 'toru." You showed him the front pages of each and the basic information.

He let out a low hum in response and pulled back, plucking the papers with him to sift through them.

He already knew they were missions the elders specifically picked out for you, but for one with Satoru? He was sure something was up there.

Of course, you didn't know he knew about your little deal with the elders, and he didn't plan on telling you he knew. Instead, he just showed up wherever you were because he wanted to be near you. And, who knows, the elders might have something planned so he wanted to know you were safe.

"It's too bad I have my own missions to go to. Otherwise I'd have gone with you." He handed you back the papers, seeing your confused expression.

"I'm sure the elders would love that." You spoke sarcastically, but laughed all the same. It would've been great to go on missions with Suguru, just like not too long ago. "Maybe we'll go on missions together soon!"

"I'd like that."

He'll pretend he didn't see the big red words on the special grade mission with Satoru, one which spelled out '2 special grades'.

"So, apparently there are 2 special grades." Satoru ate a crepe filled to the brim with toppings, walking side by side with you as you both headed to the site of the mission.

He'd come back a day or so ago and didn't even bother looking through the documents, leaving it to you since you had them before him. Also because he was strong and he didn't care enough; he would've beaten them regardless.

"Which is why I have no idea why I'm here." You muttered, sighing. You snack on your on crepe, much more simple than his, wondering why in the earth the elders wanted to put you on such a mission. You were semi grade 1, for fuck's sake! Just because you survived a special grade and grade 1 mission before doesn't necessarily mean you'll survive the next ones?!

Satoru glanced at you and took a large chomp of his crepe, munching gleefully. Once he finished that bite, he said, "They should've sent Suguru with me if anything."

"I know right? Special grades against special grades, not special grade and semi grade 1 versus 2 special grades. Are they telling me to die?" You let out an exasperated sigh.

"They're probably planning something." Satoru and you both knew how much they were assholes, but cunning was also a word that could be used to describe them.

He left out the part about how he knew you did this for Suguru, and all the nitty gritty details Shoko filled him in about after he came back from the mission prior. He also left out the information only he has access to, one which was more in line with the ability you had, that the elders were convinced you were able to awaken at a later stage.

After all, if you could unlock your cursed energy output channels so abruptly and have so much CE, there was bound to be some locked potential there, right?

Which is why you were put onto this mission to assist Satoru.

"Let's just get this over and done with." You finished the rest of your crepe, downing some bitter green tea before heading to the Windows waiting at the site.

Satoru followed you, feeling the CE ooze strongly from the site.

This will be interesting.

A couple of nights after you and Satoru went on the mission, Suguru began to get worried. He shouldn't be worried about you since you were with the Gojo heir, but he couldn't shake the feeling something happened to you.

It was when he woke up from a nightmare of you dying in his arms that he feels his stomach drop, and cold sweat run down his face and body.

The feeling was unmistakenably so humane, so real that it fucked his head in. He sat up in bed for a moment, feeling your side of the bed before finding it cold and empty. He started to panic, wondering if the dream was indeed real, but then he realised you were still on a mission, and it's been a couple of days since you went. He sighed to himself, slipping out of the covers to go cool down.

When he opened the door, he saw the light at the end of the hallway was open, the one belonging to the common room.

He didn't know what time it was, but it definitely wasn't a time to be up. But, he still went, curious about who was up this late.

"Satoru?" He questioned, seeing the white haired man in question sprawled out on the couch. "You two finished the mission?"

"Yeah." Gojo leaned back, turning his head to meet Suguru's tired ones. "Can't sleep?"

"Had a nightmare."

"Yikes."

"Where's [name]?"

"Getting examined by Shoko."

"What happened to them?" Suguru didn't want to sound too panicked, but Satoru could see through him right away.

"[name]'s fine. Maybe super tired now since they activated their curse technique for the first time."

"Cursed technique?" Suguru echoed. From what he knew, you didn't have a CT.

"Yeah." Satoru leaned on one side, crossing his legs as he faced Suguru. "Nullfication. Can cancel anything with cursed energy within a radius of 2 metres. Curses die just being in contact with it, but depends on grade."

"Isn't that an extremely rare ability?" Geto had to get himself something to drink, he was parched. He also made one for Satoru as well, knowing he'd want one too after the mission.

"Yeah. It bypassed my infinity." Satoru made an expression as he clicked his tongue, "But then my infinity worked again. Was the first time something like this happened."

Suguru couldn't help but let his jaw drop. "Is that even possible?"

Satoru frowned, taking the cup from Suguru and taking a drink. "I don't know, but the CT uses CE to maintain it. Still trying to figure out how it works."

Suguru breathed out in relief, "Wow."

"Not a moment to be celebrating, Suguru." Satoru clicked his tongue at him again, "I think this was exactly what the elders wanted."

Suguru backtracked for a moment - he knew the elders wanted something, but this? He didn't expect them to look at [name] and go 'this one will have a CT manifested'. Usually CT are manifested at an earlier age, so for you to awaken one so much later was a miracle in itself.

"Back then, and now, too." Gojo let out an exasperated sigh. "Those old bastards."

Suguru finished off his drink, "I'm going to go see them."

"Oh, ok." Satoru saw Suguru's expression, it did hold worry, but it was more contemplative due to the situation around it. He quickly finished off his drink and followed his best friend.

Suguru breathed a sigh of relief he didn't know he was holding when he saw you getting a check up from Shoko. You looked tired, but you were still alive and kicking.

"Sugu? Why are you awake? It's 3am." You raise a brow, then quickly realised Shoko was up too because of you and apologised with a little bow.

"I couldn't sleep." He strode to where you were. The tension in his body was replaced with relief as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a hug. He nuzzled into your hair, even if it was dirty from the mission.

"Sugu? I haven't cleaned up, you know." You let out a laugh as you let him do his thing, giving him a light hug back and some pats on the back.

Satoru made an expression, almost pouty, before he also came over and enveloped both you and Suguru into a hug. "I don't know what's going on but I'll hug you too. Shoko, come!" He dragged her by the arm so everyone was in a hug, much to your delight.

It's been a while since there was a group hug.

"If the elders say anything, drop my name and I'll come kill them." Satoru murmured, ready to throw hands. He nuzzled his face into the top of your head, ignoring how his hair tickled Suguru and Shoko's noses.

"If you do that, let me examine their dead bodies." Shoko joked.

"If there are any difficult missions, bring me or Satoru along." Suguru scrunched his nose as he delved deeper, leaning his body weight on you ever so slightly.

"Guys, I think I'll pass out..." You tapped at their arms, not having enough strength to pull them off.

Not even a minute passed and you were tucked into your bed, the other three shoved into your bed with you, hugging at least one part of your body as they drifted off into sleep.

You were facing Suguru, who hadn't slept yet, but was waiting for you to close your eyes and rest.

"Sugu, let's visit the kids soon, ok?" You yawned, closing your eyes, "Goodnight."

He moved slightly to bump his forehead to yours, moving back when a small smile curled your lips. He was ready to sleep now, and he didn't think he'd have anymore nightmares.

"Let's do that. Goodnight."

A/N: This is almost a little prequel to this angsty one, but can be a fluffy-ish angsty-ish standalone as well!

Fun fact, after Suguru cried his eyes out, his eyes were puffy for the first day of this break, and you and Shoko gave him so much shit for it.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #geto suguru #jjk season 2 #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #jjk fluff #jjk gojo #jjk x reader #jjk spoilers #ieiri shoko x reader #jjk shoko #shoko ieiri #jujutsu kaisen shoko #jujutsu shoko #geto #suguru geto x reader #jjk geto #geto x reader #jujutsu geto #suguru #suguru x reader #getou suguru x reader #jjk suguru #jujutsu kaisen suguru

[obsessedwrhys]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ The Seven x Deadpool!Reader

t/w: loooots of dark humour/jokes, reader is insensitive and an asshole since they're also a supe working at vought, your powers are the exact same as Deadpool (even the skin condition), mention about killing, death, gore, r-pe, n@zis?!?!, alcohol, some intimacy (?). Also reader is gn!!

ᯓ★ here's a version with the boys <3

HOMELANDER

This man hates you so fking much

Has tried to kill you multiple times, he tried lasering you, tearing you in half and even throwing you into the sky but you just always manage to come back like the damn plague

Eventually he gives up trying to kill you and just had to deal with the fact you'll be kept alive... just temporarily though... he's still looking for ways to kill you

However, your powers gave you dozens of advantages when around Homelander.

He can be having a meeting about something serious and everyone would be listening to him due to their fear towards him, then there's you who'd be doing your own thing and just shout out unrelated things like "Donald Trump just blocked me on Twitter!! HAH!! SUCK IT CORNFLACKS!!"

Everyone turning to you with startled expressions while Homelander simply rolls his eyes before continuing his presentation.

You are a complete nightmare to the PR team, that's why for interviews or any events, you'll always be paired up with Homelander so he can keep you under control and stop you from saying weird shit that could ruin the company's image.

"So Deadpool, how does it feel being in the Seven working alongside Homelander? You've been working together for almost 3 years now" A reporter would ask as you two are surrounded by screaming fans.

"Like I'm in the twilight series, not because of the fantasy but because I'm still waiting for the part where he impregnates me—"

"O-kay! That's enough, just silly ol' Deadpool with those inside jokes"

"You can tell in this eyes that he wants to fuck me right now. HE'S GONNA FUCK ME!!" You shouted as you're being dragged away by him.

Obviously when you had found out about his relationship with Stormfront, especially her background, you had to say some shit about it. Not giving the slightest care about the fact he could be grieving over her death.

He'll be in his room standing in front of the window and you'd just storm in, being as loud as possible.

"I can't believe you dated a N@zi!! Is it because I'm Jewish?!" Which may or may not be true, nobody knows your origin.

He may hate your guts but if he ever needs someone to help him do some dirty work, you're the person for the job, you never ask why or how, which could be the only thing he likes about you.

"Y'know, maybe if you didn't have such a big mouth, you'd be tolerable"

"All the people I've slept with have said otherwise"

Compatibility? 50%

STARLIGHT

Before she joined the Seven, she had an image of what kind of person you were, she just didn't know it was this worse.

When you found out she used to work at this Sunday School Church, you just haaaaad to say something about it.

"So like, you say that prayer always works, but every night I pray for my hair to grow and it never does. Do you think God has me blocked? How do I get unblock?"

"Uh..."

You two surprisingly get along without one wanting to slice the other's throat, except sometimes the things you say can really piss her off. Which is why when the company assigned her a new costume, she was trying her hardest to avoid you, but you found out anyways.

"Holy shit Starlight! Nice costume, is this your Miley Cyrus breakthrough? Girl power!"

Insert her groaning out of annoyance.

Again, the second you discovered she was dating a guy behind the death of Translucent, you were heartbroken :(

"Of course this happens right when my therapist gives up on me!"

Despite your behaviour, you pitied her when it was revealed that she was taken advantage of by The Deep, so like any good friend, you took revenge by cooking his friend octopus and eating it happily in front of him.

"Revenge does taste sweet" You'd say happily while Starlight just watches by the side, both grateful and horrified at your actions.

In my opinion, you would definitely be the person she goes to once she starts working with the boys, you'll always be providing whatever information that happens in the company for her to use.

It helps her worry less about getting anyone killed 'cause you literally can't die.

Compatibility? 60%

QUEEN MAEVE

You're half the reason why she rethinks about her life choices when she wakes up in the morning

Not because you're a handful (which you are) but because you're always paired together on missions

"Deadpool! The hostages!"

"OKAY! God... you act just like my drunk uncle"

Which is a joke/nickname you like to address her by because of her alcoholism (yikes)

Whenever the company needs you for something, half of the time she's the one assigned to search for you.

There was this one time she caught you trying to have Anika track down Kanye West's location, nobody knows what shenanigans you were up to.

Another thing to mention was that you two were chosen by the company to sing a Christmas song for the year's Christmas ceremony.

Just imagine during the bridge of the song, she's singing normally while you're completely going off, your high note so high you were sure you had Mariah Carey a run for her money.

Even though she finds you a lot to deal with, you're actually her buddy to train with.

Since you're very skilled with Katanas, she likes to practice her swordsmanship with you.

You like to tease or make fun of her everytime she fails to strike you which is good motivation for her to get better. Maybe you guys bring out the best of each other?

Last thing I'd like to add is when she was found out by the public that she was a lesbian (She's bi but you get the running joke), you had gifted her a t-shirt that says, 'Biggest Dick in Town'

Compatibility? 80%

THE DEEP

Your human punching bag

If Vought was a high school instead of a company, you'd be the bully and he'd be the nerd getting stuffed inside the locker room.

For example, Homelander could be confronting Starlight about her relationship with Hughie and everyone would just start raising their voices til you come in yelling "SHUT UP!" to the Deep who had not said a single thing during the entire time.

Just imagine him staring at you like 😐

To be honest you also ate his friend octopus so you guys are actually never getting the chance to make up.

"Look dude, I don't appreciate your tone"

"I don't appreciate your haircut either but we can't all get what we want"

You may be a crazy person but you weren't going to be okay with the fact he violates every woman he sees, so not only did you cook the octopus but you also called in a male stripper disguised as a woman just for him to celebrate on his birthday.

Just imagine him all happy when you tell him the news and later that night he'll run inside your room, completely pissed off at your act after finding out but you just laughed and said.

"Happy April Fools 😚!"

"That's next month dipshit!"

Also, you never understood his weird fantasies. He has a thing for sea animals??You've caught him multiple times either flirting or getting off to one. It was concerning even for you.

"From how many animals you've fucked, you might just turn from the ocean's 'Seaman' to 'Semen'." You joked which he did not find funny.

Maybe you messing with him could just be your way of getting along with him since you're the same with everybody else, it's just he has more flaws to poke fun of and he's sensitive about them.

Compatibility? 5%

A-Train

He thinks you're fucked up in the head.

Half of the shit that comes out of your mouth just has him reacting like in the GIF

Buuuuuut you're the one he always brings to the club because you always know ways to give the party life.

You've somehow even got on the wall of fame, a lovely portrait of you with your hands making out a heart.

Also, you know about his business with Compound V waaaaay before anyone else did. He's still grateful you didn't tell anyone.

Just like everyone else, you also enjoy messing with him except he's fast and constantly avoiding you.

"Hey A-Train, how much do you wanna bet that I can die faster than you?"

"Dude... seriously?"

You guys rarely get sent on missions together because you're always slowing him down, not basing off the fact he's fast but because you get easily sidetracked with other things.

"Alright, we're here now, how much C4 do we use?"

"Fuck math! Let's use all of 'em!"

You ended up detonating all of the C4 on you before he could object the idea, he was able to run out in time, your action nearly getting him killed while you ended up dead.

But it's fine you'll just grow back.

You know that race he has against Shockwave? You'd be at the VIP section standing near where Homelander and Queen Maeve is, waving your huge banner that has a picture of A-Train's face and yours pasted over a figure carrying the other in bridal style.

Compatibility? 55%

TRANSLUCENT

He makes people paranoid but you make him disgusted.

There was this one time he was bored so he snuck in your room to see what you were doing.

At first he was confused why you had so many cute plushies but then the more he explored your room, he realised your room is basically every collector's dream.

You even had a huge teddy bear in the corner of your dressing room.

The reason why he doesn't like to spy on you is because the last time he did, he saw you putting your hand in the blender, then proceeding to put your private part into it.

Never again, he thought, never again.

He doesn't need to witness you carry out your intrusive thoughts.

Surprising enough, you're close with his son, I'd like to think that after his death, you practically became the kid's godparent. Though you can be sort of a bad influence, leading up to how he is in Gen V.

You always tell him you hate kids but he thinks otherwise.

After all, he can read people well.

You guys like to pull pranks on each other since you guys like competing on who's more sneaky

There was this one time, you woke up to find your suit gone so you ended up walking around the building, completely naked and unfazed by people's stares.

It was when you walked around the corner that you found your suit worn by someone else, turns out it was Translucent under it.

"Why is it so fucking tight dude? How do you stay in this shit all day?"

"You get used to it"

Compatibility? 85%

BLACK NOIR

Lovers.

He doesn't mind your attitude because he actually can't say anything about it.

No seriously... he can't talk.

But hey he's got a good shoulder to cry on.

"I just... hffgh... I can't believe my album didn't surpass lady gaga's... She doesn't even know how to use Katanas like I do!" You'd let out a loud sob while he just stares at you for a while before placing a hand on your shoulder, patting you gently.

You know the scene where he's playing the piano for one of the company's party? You'll be laying down on top of it and singing in your usual overdramatic high pitched voice.

He finds your humour amusing so he always does this little head tilt like in the GIF when you say some weird shit while waiting for his response.

Since both of you are the only members of the Seven that wears a full body suit, obviously you had to try on his but since it was impossible to achieve that, you just had the company make a copy for you.

He'll be walking down the hallway doing his normal routine until he notises another person in his suit, the moment you speak and he realises its just you is when he let's his guard down.

"I just got some transplants done to my ass, that's why I look different"

You both are never sent on missions together 'cause you guys don't work well, pretty much nobody works well with him since he's the silent type.

Example, you two were hiding behind some crates ready to jump on the bad guys who were snucking in illegal drugs. He gestured for you to wait as he went to check again, only to turn back to see you gone.

"Marry Christmas motherfuckers!"

He heard your voice shout and he found you standing on top of the stacked crates, machine gun in hand and began shooting aimlessly.

He didn't even do anything but just watch until you ran out of bullets. However, multiple survived and began shooting at you so you ended running towards where he's hiding at.

"Yankee yankee!" You yelped.

You know the video of the two girls taking off their wigs to reveal that they're bald and they start bonding over it? I'd like to imagine that's you and Black Noir with the skin condition under the suits.

One more scenario I wanna add, you guys could be having a meeting but since you were bored and you always hated meetings, you'd draw a big heart on a piece of paper and show it to Black Noir from across the table. Surprisingly he'd draw a heart back to you.

You were overjoyed so you began to draw you and him doing it, doggy style. He stares at your doodle for a while before choosing to just focus on the meeting instead.

Compatibility? 90%

(This took a while cause I was on vacation)

#the boys #the boys x reader #the boys x you #the boys homelander #the boys starlight #the boys queen maeve #the boys the deep #the boys a train #the boys translucent #the boys black noir #the boys tv #homelander x reader #starlight x reader #queen maeve x reader #the deep x reader #a train x reader #translucent x reader #black noir x reader #homelander #starlight #queen maeve #the deep #a train #translucent #black noir #x reader #the boys amazon

[greywritesthings]

overwhelmed

Spencer Reid x Autistic!Reader

Warnings: description of overwhelm? sensory overload if there's any more let me know!

A/N: not sure what the inspo what behind this but here it is, i am working on another longer fic so this is a filler for the mean time, likes, reblogs and comments appreciated! Im autistic so i have a bunch of stuff I'd like to put in for a second (possible series?). For specific senarios ect ect please feel free to send them to my ask box!!

Requests are open for Spencer Reid! Disabled & multilingual characters encouraged

Part 2

Masterlist!

The buzz of the air con unit, the incessant hum if the fluorescent lights, the constant chatter of the co workers you were unfamiliar with all came together to create an almost physically painful environment. You adored working in the BAU but these days where it was lengthy paperwork done on painfully bright computers with the general hubbub of the office made you want to scream. It often ended with Hotch sending you home with paper files to do with spencer but he was off today and you were still intimidated by Rossi so couldn't ask him. Spencer would normally ask for the both of you but he was out with Hotch, they were doing a local death row interview together. You were exhausted and it wasn't even eleven am. You decided to stop by Penelope's office who had made it as sensory friendly as possible once she found out about your autism, something you had appreciated immensely, especially for days like today. “Hey pen? Can i stay in here for a bit?” You ask, walking into the dim room. “Sure thing sugar, you can stay in here for the rest of the day, Rossi told me to come get you for a thing anyway so come over here my fine furry friend.” she beacons you over to the seat next to her. 

You couldn't have gotten out of the office faster. Penelope had helped as much as possible but the sensory overload was too much from nine am and you haven't been able to do anything about it aside from chew on some ice every so often. 

The idea of taking the subway home made your skin crawl, but you hadn't brought your car to the office this morning, driving was also being far too overwhelming. You would have called Spencer but you had no idea when he would be home given death row inmates either got really chatty or liked to drag on the interview. You decide to just sit on the curb for a while allowing the cooler night air to calm you down enough so you can try and get on the metro without crying. 

You weren't sure how long you were sitting there, legs curled tightly against you, head resting against your knees and back pressed against the wall but you flinched when someone walked up and tapped you on the shoulder and scrambled to stand up. “How long have you been out here?” the stranger asks in the darkness. As your eyes adjust you realise its Hotch, meaning Spencer is probably here too. You just shake your head with a pleading look hoping he wouldn't ask you any more questions tonight. “Spencer is in the SUV, I've told him to take that home to save you both taking the metro tonight. Go home, tomorrow's paperwork will be dropped off at your house.He didn't let you get a word in edgewise so you just nod, thank him and wish him and Jack a goodnight, setting off towards the remaining SUV with the lights on. 

“Hi honey, you okay?” Spencer asks as you hop into the car, throwing off your blazer before settling in and pulling on your belt. “Bad day?” he asks again trying to gauge how your day went without getting you to talk. You just nod as you reach across to put a hand on his thigh to try and signal that you were okay, just exhausted in every sense of the word. You tap his thigh three times then five, three to say I love you then five to encourage him to talk about his day and not worry about rambling even if you didn’t respond. 

Once you get home you drop your things and make a beeline for the couch, flopping face down and screaming into the pillows. “Bath, shower or later sweetheart?” He knew you wouldn’t go to bed without showering but also knew you were too overwhelmed to do anything that required mental effort right now given the whine you let out into the cushions at his question. “I'm going to order some Thai, then do you want to get changed and we can watch a movie? He suggests. “Nada en inglés, por favor” is all you mumble back. He was used to your disdain of English, despite it being your first language. You knew bits and pieces of French, Spanish and German prior to meeting Spencer but since meeting him you had come to learn some Korean and Russian. “Okay dear, i'll go order, you get changed.” he says as he leaves the room going to the phone. You drag yourself off the sofa across the apartment to the bedroom. Grabbing Spencer's caltech sweatshirt and joggers from the bed that you had left there this morning and throwing your suit in the hamper to be washed tomorrow.

You spent the rest of the night curled up under the weighted throw Penelope had knitted you for Christmas on your first anniversary at the BAU and watching old Russian movies. Spencer played with your hair until you fell asleep contemplating how he was going to get you to bed without waking you up.

#greyswritings #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds

[cosmerelists]

Cosmere Characters in the Hunger Games

As requested by @sweetteaanddragons :)

I haven't read or watched Hunger Games, but I've picked up enough through cultural osmosis...I hope. They're kids in an arena fighting to the death, right? And it's a media circus? And there are 12 districts? And they're poor? I think I got it! Anyway, let's stick Cosmere characters in that arena and see how they do!

By the way, for the most part I'm imagining these characters in their own separate hunger games, not all together, just because I didn't want to imagine all of my blorbos killing each other.

1. Kaladin

After a kid who looks just like Tien literally dies in Kaladin's arms (note: all of the kids look exactly like Tien so far as Kaladin is concerned), Kaladin realizes that the Hunger Games are about kids dying, not about kids surviving. He decides that he has to save everyone, and quickly builds a coalition with the other tributes. They all die anyway and Kaladin wins.

He's not happy about it.

2. Shallan

Sadly, Shallan dies while trying unsuccessfully to convince a stick to become fire. Technically, I think this means the stick wins, but they give the award to some kid instead, for some reason.

3. Adolin

Adolin was doing really well until FOUR other tributes all decided to gang up on him. Even then, he fought like an uncaged tiger and very nearly survived. Nearly. (Hey, uh, most characters die in Hunger Games, right?)

4. Vin

Vin slices through the competition like a vengeful god. Emphasis on vengeful. And god. She barely even lets herself get distracted by the weird love triangle between that guy who wants to make the world better and the one who wants to burn it all down. She's too busy, like, killing everyone.

5. Zane

Zane thinks it's pretty swell to be in this killing arena killing people. What isn't swell is that Vin isn't into him, even AFTER their romantic killing spree. What gives? Anyway. Vin kills him.

6. Elend

Elend has a lot of thoughts about the sociological implications of the games. He does not have a lot of thoughts about how to sharpen a stick into a crude spear and ram it through someone's chest. (Is that what happens in the Hunger Games?) Regardless, I don't think he makes it long... Sorry, Elend.

7. Spook

Spook is a wraith. No one ever sees him coming. Or sees him at all. He keeps receiving supplies and weapons from a mysterious benefactor. At one point he starts wearing a handkerchief over his eyes and killing people by sound alone. I don't really see him winning, tbh (sorry Spook), but he is definitely a crowd favorite who makes it super far.

8. Szeth

"To kill innocent children for the amusement of distant viewers blackens my soul with a stain that shall never be removed. Oh, how I hate this. Oh, how I hate this senseless, senseless killing," Szeth thinks to himself as he constructs an unnecessarily elaborate death trap that kills his opponents horribly. "No one suffers like me," Szeth thinks, over all of the screaming.

9. Renarin

Hey remember when Renarin killed a Thunderclast mostly off-screen? Plus he has future sight. If they've got their powers in this game, then Radiant Renarin is probably taking it all. If not, well...let's not go there.

10. Vivenna

After her sister is sent as a tribute in Vivenna's place, Vivenna enters the Hunger Games anyway, determined to somehow put a stop to them. For example, she takes all the food she can find and hides it in one place so that it will be safe for everyone. She figures out how to predict supply drops to ensure that she always gets to them first. While convinced that she is the Hunger Games Breaker, she is actually the season's most notorious villain and eventually everyone bands together to kill her. Sorry, Vivenna.

11. Kelsier

Kelsier wins the hearts of viewers everywhere, mostly due to his determination to keep smiling no matter what horrors he must survive. He's, like, really good at killing people also. The Survivor, people call him. But when he is shockingly cut down and killed, his death galvanizes a rebellion against, uh, President Snow? Is that the big bad? Anyway. There's a religion about him now.

12. Ann

Oh, Ann. So excited to shoot guns. (Do they have guns?) So excited to shoot bows and arrows maybe. But she can't shoot worth a damn. She has a splendid time and hits no one. And, well, she does not win.

13. Cord

Frankly, Cord wants to win and bring glory and money (?) back home to her people, who desperately need it. I'm assuming the districts get stuff if their person wins. Cord is in it to win it. And she's awfully good with that bow and arrow...

14. Lift

Man, I don't want Lift to be in the Hunger Games! Lift thinks killing is lazy and boring! Sure, she'd be great at hiding in trees and getting food, but I definitely do not see Lift actually being able to kill anyone. Is that allowed? Will she be disqualified?

15. Tress

Tress looks at the Death Arena Whose Purpose Is Death and says, "But is anyone gonna Make Friends about it" and doesn't wait for an answer. Somehow, by the end, basically everyone IS friends. Except for that one person who really did want to kill. But she and Tress went off together and only Tress returned. So.

Basically, Tress's influence ruins the Hunger Games that year. Nobody wants the Friendship Games.

#Cosmere #Cosmerelists #Kaladin #Adolin #Shallan #Vin #Elend #Spook #Zane #Lift #Tress #Vivenna #Kelsier #Szeth #Ann #Renarin #Cord

[i-cant-sing]

Okay okay, time for me to word vomit an idea:

So imagine that after Dabi does his whole vengeful arc, kills dozens of people and publicly calls out Enji's abusive ass, my man just gets caught by the cops and he's like put in a psychiatric hospital (because obviously Enji pulled some strings to save his son from death row to ease his own guilt).

Anyways, Dabi is like majorly depressed obviously and he's like "well, I've done everything I wanted to, so I might as well off myself" and cue reader's entry.

So basically, reader could be a nurse/doctor(NOT A PSYCHIATRIST) and she's all warm and fuzzy and a literal Ray of sunshine and Dabi hates her, but he doesn't give a crap atm.

And like everytime Dabi tries to kill himself, reader is there to stop him. It obviously started with "nooo, please don't kill yourself🥺 you are precious🥺🥺" to reader just swooping in and foiling his plans like "can you not die during my shift? I need an early night off🥱". Dabi is actively trying to kill himself, like he's standing on the ledge to jump, and reader is tackling him down and then punching him for making you run all the way up to the roof.

And like reader is bandaging him up with great gentleness and care and Dabi is staring at her being all close to him (he is mesmerised), and he goes-

"I'll be successful in my suicide one day."

And you just smile and shake your head. "Not as long as I'm praying." And at first, Dabi is super annoyed because he's think you're into the whole religious mumbo jumbo, but he actually caught you one day praying (insert whatever religion) and he's bewitched by the sincerity you pray for his (and others) well being. As if you believed with your whole heart that someone up there is listening to you.

He doesn't know what or when exactly he fell for you, but he did. And he decides that he'll confess to you after he gets out of psychiatric hospital (after tugging at Rei's and Enji's heart strings and them using money and influence to free their menace son). After spending 6 years in the hospital, 6 years where you were the only one who truly cared for him, he'll finally confess to you.

But then you don't come. Not even the next day, or the week after that. Turns out, you left your job.

Out of the blue? Dabi's suspicions rose.

He got out of the hospital and began doing his own research on you until he found your address and well... he sort of came in unannounced (look he knocked, you didn't answer, so he melted the lock and let himself in. At least he came in bearing flowers and wine).

He wasn't expecting you to be at home, but there you were, lying in your bed, a little too still for someone to be asleep.

He throws the covers off you, eyes narrowing on the red stains on your sheet before moving to your bleeding wrists.

Dabi's world stops, every cell in his body stops before every fiber in his being screams and makes him move. He doesn't check for pulse, doesn't check if you're still breathing, perhaps he'd die himself if he didn't like the answer he found. He picks you up and immeadiately goes to the nearest hospital, which fortunately was near.

While you were being operated on, Dabi sat outside, heart thumping as he prayed to whatever deity you did.

Please... not yet.

His prayers were answered as tge doctors told him that you're going to be alright... physically that is. Mentally? Well, Dabi is about to figure it out.

He sat by your side waiting for you to wake up. When you finally did, he saw how different you looked. Obviously he had noticed that you were physically weak, but your eyes... they lost their shine.

Your eyes turned to confusion when you looked at him. "D-Dabi? What are you-"

"I found you." That was enough for you to put together what he meant. You turned your eyes away from him, ashamed.

"Why?" He asks in a quiet tone. "What made you do it?"

"My choices." You whispered. "Bad decisions in the past."

Dabi wanted to pry more out of you, but he knew you wouldn't explain more. So, he takes matter into his own hands and leaves the hospital, telling you that he needs to run some errands, but he's actually going back to your apartment and starts rummaging through your stuff to find some clues as to what exactly caused you to do this.

He didn't have to look around too much because he found your phone and snooped through your messages. Someone was blackmailing you. They had some explicit pictures of you, seems like a toxic ex who was threatening to share these photos with your family and social circle.

So Dabi pays a visit to your ex, takes care of him and the pictures he had,making sure to get rid of all the copies too. All in a day!

By night he had returned to the hospital, you were asleep. He slept there too, in the uncomfortable hospital chair, heart at peace as he watched your chest rise and fall steadily.

Next morning, when it was time for you to leave, Dabi helped you and took you home. You thanked him for everything, and Dabi made sure to tell you that he'll be picking you up for lunch later. You agreed hesitantly. And at lunch, he finally revealed that he came to you because he wanted to ask you out.

You look surprised, more so when he reveals that he had fancied you for a while and that he understands that relationships might not be a priority for you at the moment but-

"I understand if dating is not a priority for you right now but if you ever do consider falling in love, know that I've been on the top of your wait list for the past 6 years and will wait another lifetime if that's all the time you need."

You're in tears at his words, and you have a hard time not breaking down as he takes your hands in his, his thumbs carefully tracing over your bandaged wrists as he promises to wait by your side, that he'll always be there to help you with anything, that if you gave him a chance, he'll spend the rest of his life trying to make you happy.

"Dabi, i- I am not good for you." You say, voice wobbly. "My past, it'll always haunt me and I care too much about you to let it haunt you as well."

"Your ex? His pictures?" He asked watching shock appear on your face. "You won't ever have to worry about him, Y/n."

You shook off your surprise. "That's not it. It's not the only problem I have!"

"Then tell me. I'll fix all of your problems." Dabi promises with such sincerity that you're compelled to believe him.

You don't tell him obviously, saying that it is your burden, your mess to deal with. Dabi doesn't push more, only because he knows he'll figure it out later anyways. Hey, he may be a criminal but he was once the son of the top hero who trained him, so Dabi's IQ is through the fucking roof.

And a man in love has no limitations.

Had a DUI? He deals with it. Parents disowned you? He'll make them regret it. Killed someone? He'll make sure you have an alibi to prove your innocence. Cheated off a test in grade 2? He'll make sure there are no witnesses alive. He'll burn the world- burn himself if it means keeping you warm.

You don't wanna date a criminal? Fine, he's working a cooperate job and since he's so smart, he'll be a fucking CEO in no time and have enough money and time to spend on you. Youre crying because you feel ugly when you see your scars? Dabi makes sure to kiss them every day and pulls out his turtleneck (aka the trademark Todoroki fit) for you, while he buys the best treatment money can buy for your scars. Mental health is going down? He's taking you to the best therapist in town. You're sad he's an atheist because it means you won't be with him in heaven? Damn, he's a convert now.

I just adore men in love :(

Okay but I don't think we're focusing on how scary smart Dabi actually is😳😳😳 I just know it, I KNOW he's super smart but he downplays it all the time because he's depressed or whatever.

#yandere dabi #yandere dabi x reader #yandere bnha #bnha headcanons #yandere mha #bnha imagines

[tteokdoroki]

*ੈ🌩️‧₊˚— the mystery of misery + katsuki bakugou, eijirou kirishima.

૮˶ᵕ ༝ᵕ˶ა synopsis — you’ve spent your whole life running from the shackles of your past and the misery surrounding it, but, after the death of your estranged mother— you return to your small hometown to lay her to rest. while you’re there, the whispers of whiteridge begin to unravel, revealing mysteries of love, loss and lies that all tie back to a childhood flame and the town’s recluse.

⭑ general warnings — please read + mdni ! heavy!angst, heavy!smut, fluff, happy ending, characters aged up to twenties, strangers/childhood friends to lovers, major character deaths, themes of death, injury descriptions (bones), murder mystery, childhood trauma, gaslighting, manipulation, arguments, fight scenes, anxiety, panic attacks, therapy, pet names (sweetheart, darling, baby etc.), fem!reader, southern!au, small town!au, quirkless!au.

⭑ smut warnings — three scenes, protected/unprotected sex, drunk sex, clothed sex, oral sex (m + f!receiving), blowjobs, handjobs, fingering (f!receiving), nipple play, body worship, dry humping, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, orgasm control, choking, biting, scratching, marking, threesomes, cucking, frottage, double vaginal penetration, squirting, creampies, possession, birth control, condom usage, aftercare, light!degradation, light!dumbification, light!dacryphilia, light!baby trapping, strength!kink, praise!kink, size!kink, spit!kink, uses of cunt, pussy, cock dick etc. reader is picked up/carried.

⭑ words — 51.1K.

⭑ notes — waah !! here it is !! my baby, my passion project. this fic is an accumulation of of a month of screaming, crying + throwing up but i'm so happy to give it to you all. i've never been so proud of something, it's a lot, its heavy but its very much me and indulgent. sorry in advance for the text walls/length but i hope you guys will love it as much as i do! special thanks to @yuki-no-akumu for all the support and editing and formatting!! and @heartdevil too ! m.list / playlist / ao3 ✩

some memories are easier to forget than others.

like scars, they can fade with time until they’re hardly noticeable— as if they were never even there to begin with. others cling to familiar scents and sights and sensations, etched into the landscape of your brain never to be erased, never to be replaced. no matter how hard you try, certain memories will always come back to you— close in on you like a shadow in the night, jolting you from your peaceful present day. 

at least, that’s how you feel when you get a call from your hometown about your estranged mother’s sudden death— and all of those painful memories from your childhood you worked so hard to forget, constantly pushing them to the back of your mind come crashing down on you in a giant wave of stinging nostalgia. and you feel as though you're drowning in the weight of them. 

as soon as you were old enough, and on the cusp of your eighteenth birthday— you’d abandoned your life in a small town in the south to make it big in the city. you wanted to write, wanted your name on big billboards and your books in every store, so you left it all behind as a naive young woman to follow a man who’d promised you a fruitful career and that all of your wildest dreams would come true. back then, you’d have done anything to get out of that tiny town. 

and you did, though just barely breaking into your mid-twenties you made a name for yourself as a best-selling author of fiction books. known far and wide, you thought that your career was your way out, but you’d never thought that you’d be dragged back to the hellhole of your childhood hometown either. the place where people cursed your name instead of cheered it, where you were an outsider instead of someone to be loved. 

the memories of your bitter mother and piece of shit father ( who’d abandoned you all very early on ) sit at the forefront of your mind as you make the long drive to your old southern home— you would only go back to sell your dead mother’s house, see to her funeral arrangements and be back to your new, better life in the city within the week. you couldn’t possibly stay any longer, you refused to.

except, the words of your publicist, mina ashido, serve as a haunting reminder that your plan isn’t just a quick in and out.

‘when you go on this trip and go back home, sit in your feelings. talk to the people you used to know! write something. something refreshing that your fans have never seen before.’

you remember the conversation as clear as day, after having received the news of your mother’s passing— your nosey publicist thought it would be a good idea to pester you to consider writing that autobiography. she’d told you that your fans wanted to know the real you, that you were too private for your own good and apparently your science fiction romance novels just weren’t cutting it anymore. 

you scoff to yourself, alone in your rented jeep, cruising down mountainous dirt roads with nothing but dust and rocks kicked up by your tires, cold air and the clear sky above to keep you company. “the real me, my ass.” there was a reason that no one knew anything about you prior to who you are now. why your childhood memories were kept safely behind lock and key. no one needed to know the neglect you faced after your elder brother’s death, they could be spared the details on how your mother went bat-shit crazy trying to investigate his accident. what good would it do anyone to know how the town and its people turned against your mother when she couldn’t handle her duties, being too consumed with grief to help those that needed her? 

to help you, when you needed her? 

everyone in town hated her, and by extension, you. 

what good of a story would a life like that make to your readers? 

a sign for the town of whiteridge, population 356, comes into view— a little rustier than when you’d left it, and for a moment, you bring your car to a complete stop.

though the darkened memories of your past sink their claws into your mind, you take a deep breath and push forward— facing the demons that taunted you throughout your childhood, making them your bitch in your adulthood. 

as it turns out, funerals are much harder to plan than expected. 

the town’s coroner had already picked the date for said celebration of life ( a good riddance for you ), which settled on the day after you had arrived in lovely old whiteridge. there was much to organise in such little time. 

dealing with the funeral director had been exhausting, picking colours and flower arrangements and headstone designs— you end up throwing a wad of cash at the coroner, too tired to deal with the matter or to care. you doubt that your mother would have spared enough of her attention to do the same for you if you’d swapped places with one another. in the end, you put down enough money to cover twice the budget for the funeral and after party and whatever wages will be needed by any staff involved at the director with a polite, yet strained smile.

whatever you need to give to put your mother in the ground and bury your past with her— you’ll give. 

after more discussion, you come to find that the only condition the woman who raised you had for her death was that any celebration in her honour was to take place in your childhood home— the one with creaky floorboards and wailing walls that accompanied the symphony of your mother’s sobs each night. the funeral director had told you that, and again, you agreed to the condition without a care, paying off the decorators with your hard earned money ( not what your mother had left you or what was kept for her funeral arrangements ), telling them to get it sorted for the following day. 

you couldn’t bear to deal with the house yourself, at least not yet, and decide to put yourself up in the town’s nicest hotel for one last night of peace. 

the hotel is on the far side of whiteridge, by the town centre surrounded by warm looking diner’s and old rickety antique shops you remember being coated in fresh licks of paint as a child. the owners are a sweet couple, who sign you up to their cosiest room right away— the taller, momo, desperately trying to hold back on asking for your autograph while her partner, jirou, looks for your set of keys in the back behind their reception desk. 

eyeing momo— taking in her round, soft cheeks, her gentle obsidian eyes and silken dark locks, you wonder how she ever survived a place like this looking so kind and hopeful and make a mental note to buy an extra copy of your latest novel from the gift shop later on, so you can leave her with a signed copy as a thank you for being so hospitable throughout your stay. 

a mop of purple hair returns from the darkness, each one of jirou’s steps jingling with the set of keys dedicated to your space for the night. “you’ll wanna head ta room 205, it’s up the stairs ‘n to the right,” she explains nonchalantly, her southern twang ringing in your ears as she twirls the keychain over her perfectly manicured finger before pushing the set of keys across the desk towards you. “checkout is at noon, breakfast is served by sato from eight am sharp ‘till then.” 

her hands settle onto her hips afterwards, returning to momo’s side— the picture perfect painting of a happy couple residing in this fucked up world. with a smile that barely reaches your eyes, you take the keys graciously and slip them into your coat pocket— fiddling with them before you speak. “is it possible for me to get a later checkout, or leave my luggage somewhere safe?” casting your gaze around the hotel’s reception, you click your tongue before looking back at the pair with a smirk. “got a funeral first thing tomorrow morning,” 

both women soften at your words, but your grin remains— not faltering at the expression of sympathy that flashes across their features. “oh goodness! of course! we can keep your bags locked up back here until you’re ready to get them,” the words rush out of momo, quick to correct their blunder before she elbow’s jirou— who gazes up at her in a gleeful mix of shock and irritation.

it makes you laugh, how natural they are with one another— like a married couple with their own special ticks and love language. nothing like what you saw around whiteridge growing up. they fuel a small fire of inspiration in the back of your mind, characters for your next book forming from nothing in your imagination but then you suddenly remember that you have an autobiography to write while being here— not a means to escape reality. your face sags at the thought.

“‘m sorry for your loss,” jirou hums quietly. “may i ask who it was?” 

adjusting your posture, your hand forms a fist around the keys in your pocket— the cool silver metal cutting into the soft skin of your palm. 

“my mother,” you give her name, letting out an amused chuff as recognition takes its place on the couple’s faces. you shrug next. “and don’t be.” bringing a single finger to your lips, you make them wordlessly promise not to say anything. not to leak your little secret to anyone outside of this town. 

the world beyond whiteridge knows nothing of your family and the person you were before you left your town. not only that, but ashido would quite literally kick the bucket too if she found out your mother’s death had spread to the wider internet. it was a secret, the goldmine and key to your autobiography’s success. the chilly outside calls to you through a blue and red stained glass window— the yellow street lamps just shining through, accompanied by happy shouts from residents in the town. the sights and sounds lure you out of your own stuffy thoughts and taunting memories. you feel like you’re holding your breath, that you’re suffocating in the pressures of trying to live up to and prove yourself to your mom even though she’s stone cold and long gone.

twirling on your feet, you face the happy couple and plant your hands on the front desk eagerly. “i’m dying for a drink,” you blurt out brightly and try not to laugh at your awful choice of words. the tone of your voice carries something much more chipper to what it was mere seconds ago— shocking the hotel owners standing before you. “any recommendations? i haven't been to whiteridge in years!” 

jirou hesitantly lifts her finger to the window that had beckoned to you earlier— seemingly pointing to a busy joint just across the street. “liquid gold bar, s’owned by a friend of mine. used to be the town’s chapel ‘fore it got burned down a few years back by a couple of highschool grads,” she says fondly, as if remembering something happy. “i may or may not have been one of ‘em. they’ve moved further out now. but if ya do go to the bar, tell kaminari we said hello.” 

you both share a wicked grin at the story— laughing between each other while momo only scolds her partner lightly. they can’t be much older than yourself, meaning the chapel had burned down just after you’d finished highschool as well. ironic, you think.

“they do a great roast as well! if you’re hungry for dinner while you’re over there!” the ravenette beside jirou chips in, offering you a warm smile. 

thanking them both, you muster up a genuine smile of your own before asking for a pen and some paper— which momo is quick to shove at you. satisfaction flits through your body as your signature glides easily across the bit of scrap that she’d given you ( which you’re pretty sure is a receipt for their maintenance bill ). you step back after pushing it across towards her, nodding in acknowledgement. 

“thank you both for your help. i’ll be sure to find a copy of one of my books so i can give you a proper signature as thanks. have a great night.” 

you take your leave after that, gathering your bags and suitcase in your arms as you trot up the stairs. you can hear the excited squeal and kisses that follow your departure, momo blabbing on about your parting gift, her fondness of your works accompanied by jirou’s gentle and exasperated ‘i know, momo’ and ‘calm down or i’ll kiss you!'. you can only grin once you reach the landing, glad that at least some positivity has manifested in this wretched town. 

the atmosphere of liquid gold is buzzing.

after setting up in your room, showering and switching into something clean and comfortable— you head over to the bar and restaurant per jirou and momo’s recommendation. upon entering the establishment, you can already feel the life burning bright in every single corner of the room. it’s not busy, but people from every walk of life, people you don’t recognise from your awful childhood seem to be having fun. you feel safe here, free from the tendrils of trauma whiteridge usually had clinging to you.

you arrive at the bar in a few short strides, tugging the sleeves of your old woollen sweater over your hands, not bothering to flag down the bartender as you enjoy the animated and rustling atmosphere you’re currently surrounded in. 

“yer not from around here, are ya?” an electric blonde appears before you, startling you from the peace and quiet of your mind. he notices you jump, a smile breaking out across his chirpy looking face as he pours you a shot of brown liquor and passes it to you. 

folding your arms against the top of the bar, you quirk a brow before knocking back the shot with ease— the alcohol leaving a comfortable burn in the back of your throat. one that doesn’t hurt to feel, like the burn of hearing your mother’s name again when the solicitor called to tell you the news of her death. “what makes you say that?” slamming the glass down against the smooth sweet-cherry countertop, you lick your lips, and hum at the taste of dark rum coating them. 

the chipper blonde gives you a look from his place behind the bar, amber orbs dragging up and down your frame as he gestures to…well, all of you. “for starters, you’re at the hottest spot in town dressed like yer about to join a seniors knitting class!” he starts, topping you up with another shot as you lean over to get a better look at him. he’s pretty, with wild hair and bright eyes and a cheeky aura about him— someone way too positive for a town that haunts your nightmares. “and second, yer just too pretty for a town like this.”

scoffing, you roll your eyes and look away. “could say the same about you,” you say to yourself— a little too quiet for him to hear before downing your second shot of the night. “thanks, but i was actually born at the hospital just up the street.” 

“no kiddin’! me too!” the blonde seems giddy at the news that you, a stranger, has shared with him.

“aren’t we all…” you mumble back, blinking slow as the alcohol steadily begins to simmer through your body in the heat of the blood flowing in your veins.

“you don’t have the accent either,” he comments.

“skipped town at eighteen ‘n dropped it t’get where i needed to be in the industry i work in.” you fire back, locking your gaze with the bartender who seems thoroughly impressed by your ability to bring back the southern twang on command. 

“i hear that,” the bartender looks you over, gesturing to the bottles of water behind him in concern and nods when you shake your head, gripping the bar. he’s fast to set you up with a third shot of rum, hesitant to give it to you. “so what brings ya back? tourism can’t be it.” 

you swallow the rum, satisfied with how it calms your raging mind and temporarily eats up any anxieties you might have about the funeral tomorrow. 

“dead mother.” 

your companion reaches under the bar with a handful of black polished nails to grab a bigger glass for you— pouring you a heavier drink and a shot for himself. “bummer…” he laughs, as if understanding why you’re drinking tonight and lifts his shot glass to cheers with you. you share his laughter, already feeling lighter and clink your glass against his. “‘m denki kaminari, the owner of this joint, so if ya need anything, just holler at me, okay?” 

with that, denki backs off to go tend to his other customers and gives you a sweet salute as you wave him off. “i-i will!” you hiccup cheerily. “oh! jirou and momo say hi!” 

tapping your nails against the cool surface of your glass, you try not to think about the loneliness creeping up on you and the dread you have for the funeral. though, you’re somewhat relieved to let go of the woman who took away your childhood and failed to raise you in favour of digging deep into your older brother’s accident, in turn letting you be swallowed by the hate from the people in town. there was dread— fear for confronting your demons, the townspeople who failed you and the alcohol could only numb that for such little time. 

“can i get a drink, please?” someone rasps and the sound of a chair scraping against the floor next to you pulls you from your thoughts for the second time that night— but you don’t bother to look up, wanting to be alone. and like denki had said, you’re pretty. it’s not uncommon for you to get hit on in a place like this. 

tracing the rim of your glass, an irritated sigh leaves your lips as you take another sip of the dark liquid filling it. “before you ask, i’m not interested, but thanks anyway,” you reply smoothly, voice lowered by the alcohol clinging to the ridges of your throat. 

the voice speaks pipes up again, this time sounding as though it’s directed at you. “‘nd i wasn’t fuckin’ talkin’ to you, sweetheart,”  only then do you spare a glance at the person speaking— his voice husky, lower than yours and filtering through your ears like liquid gold honey. “but thanks for the clarification anyways.” 

oh fuck.

you pause, meeting a pair of narrowed ruby red eyes, deep and enticing— calling to you like riches call to a man of greed. once you look up, you can’t tear your own eyes away, pulled into the trance of the handsome man before you. his hair looks like it’s been touched by only the brightest days of sunlight, a soft pale blonde that just barely covers his eyes. his skin is golden despite the cool and bone chilling weather outside— dotted with honeycomb freckles that remind you of stars in the sky. his lashes are long, long enough to make you insanely jealous of how pretty they are and your mind dares you to think about how soft they must feel when brushing against your skin.

you can tell that the man is strapping from the way his arms bulge and how broad his chest is, barely hidden by the fabric of his black turtleneck that stretches over his bulky frame. he seems familiar, but blurred from your memory— as if you knew him but weren’t supposed to.

he also looks like he was made by the gods.

like he’s the love interest that's walked straight out of one of your most famous books.

“don’t they teach you outsiders that it’s rude t’fuckin’ stare?” the stranger asks, a brow raised into his hairline as he accepts a drink from an amused denki. 

shaking your head in surprise at being called out, you splutter out a response. “an outsider?” 

“yer clearly not from around here.” 

“you’re the second person who’s told me that tonight. what’s your reason?” 

raising his drink to you, ice clinking against the sides of the glass, he utters simply. “firstly, ya don’t have an accent, sweetheart.” 

rolling your eyes again, you swivel in your seat to fully face the handsome and apparently— all knowing, yet unknown person with an unimpressed glare. “let me guess,” leaning an elbow on the bar top, you bat your lashes at him and push your arms together to mockingly accentuate your chest. “i’m too pretty to be from ‘round here too.” you add in a faux dumb tone, scoffing when he falls for your trick to take a glance at your tits from over your sweater. “unbelievable.”

“was gonna say ya just give off the vibe that yer uptight, but that too.” 

“uptight?” you gasp incredulously and if looks could kill, this man would be six feet under. “you don’t even know me.” 

“know enough to know you don’t give a fuck ‘bout yer mom dyin’ or… at least you pretend not to. yeah i heard that.” he mumbles and takes a sip of his cool beverage, swirling it around the tempered glass before locking eyes with you again. “but then again, who am i ta judge? if she was from this shitty town, then that old hag was probably a pain in the fuckin’ ass jus’ like the rest of ‘em, hah?” 

he looks to you as if reading your face, but you don’t have it in you to tell him that he’s wrong— so you laugh and raise your half empty glass to him. “right on the money…” you trail off, hoping to get his name. 

“bakugou.” 

“bakugou…” you repeat his last name, playing with the taste of it on your tongue, happy with it. “the people in this place are fake as shit.” 

he grins in response. “they’re all bullshit, i’d rather avoid these fuckers as if they had the plague.” 

you grin back. “cheers to that then.” 

“cheers to bein’ the only sane people in this god-awful town,” bakugou holds his glass up to yours, cheers-ing  with you before you both down your drinks in one smooth shot. when he looks back at you, you softly give him your own name, buzzing with newfound confidence as the alcohol once again takes up residence in your bloodstream.

“can i get’cha another drink, bakugou?” you ask, flagging denki over with a wave of your dainty fingers. “my tab’s already open.” 

“i won’t say no t’that, sweetheart. start me off easy, yeah? don’t wanna get too drunk before i get ta know ya.” 

now, that shocks you. someone interested in you for more than just your books and your money, someone who seems not to know you like the rest of the world does…or even this town. you tilt your head, intrigued by bakugou and speak softly to him again. “you wanna get to know me?” 

“no one hates this place as much as i do, people like us gotta stick together.” the pale blonde with the dauntingly beautiful vermillion stare; smirks— exposing a row of sharpened pearly whites that make your heart stutter in its place residing in your chest. “’sides, i meant what i said earlier. i think yer pretty.” his smirk turns dopey, a coy smile crossing his perfectly slanted lips, sending your brain into some kind of frenzy. bakugou leans in real close, having turned to face you fully as well, and lets his hand slide over your jean clad knee— further and further until it settles on the swell of your thigh, giving it a hearty squeeze. 

walking your fingers up bakugou’s own thigh, you drop your tone into a sultry. “yeah? you’re not so bad yourself.” you coo, twirling your fingers through his belt loops and tugging on them shyly. though there aren’t many people in the bar, you feel like the temperature of the room is rising— scorching you from the inside out. maybe it’s his touch, maybe it’s how close you both are, but it’s almost as if bakugou is swallowing you whole, pulling you into his air of mystery. 

“not bad, hah? don’t act like i didn’t catch ya starin’, sweetheart.” he responds darkly, cocking his head to the side. 

your hands travel upwards, fisting the fabric of his turtleneck as you follow the tilt of bakugou’s head. “god, you have something to say for everything, don’t you?” there’s nothing but an inch of air separating you both, your lips ghosting over one another. 

“‘course i do, s’cause i never lose.” he whispers softly, his breath warm and wet against your cupid’s bow before bakugou closes the gap— pressing his lips against yours in a slow, alcohol and lust driven kiss. you briefly seize up, before letting the man lead you further into the dark. bakugou’s tongue drags over the seam of your lips, tasting the rum that’s caught on the chapped skin of them. he groans deep, the sound vibrating through you and straight down to the heat between your thighs— making you uncomfortable in your denim jeans.

you tug him close, desperate for more, for something else— but kaminari comes over, waving his rag about the place until both you and bakugou part. 

“hey! hey now! get a room! you’re scaring away the customers!” 

“can it, dunce face!” bakugou grumbles at the loss of contact but keeps a hand on your thigh to keep you in place while you calm your breath. “what customers?"

“um, rude!” 

“‘nd s’not even like that anyways,” the lighter blonde continues, grabbing his coat and subsequently pulling his hand from your thigh— making you whimper at the loss of his warmth. 

grabbing onto his sleeve before bakugou can vacate the bar, you pout, giving him your best doe eyes and pleading voice. “it can be…like that if you want.” you say breathlessly, not quite ready for your evening with the handsome stranger to end just yet. “i’ve got a room at the hotel across the street for tonight.” 

and then bakugou gives you the same, slow sexy smirk from earlier and steps in between your thighs. 

“yeah? then show me the way, princess.” 

that’s how you end up slamming bakugou against the door of your hotel room— roughing him up between sloppy, spit swapping kisses. your hands cascade down the blonde’s well built frame, feeling his chiselled and washboard abs from over the thick fabric of his clothing, squeezing the meat of his pecs and tugging on his belt loops— hardly giving the man any room between your sensual lip locks. bakugou groans into your temperate mouth, following each movement of your lips like it’s a perilous siren song calling to him, like he can’t bare to be without your tongue crawling across his, both pink muscles dancing in a salaciously sinful song too debauched to happen between two complete strangers. 

his lips feel so good, they’re soft and plump— balmier than you expected them to be for someone who seems so rough on the exterior. they move with calculated precision, not too rough, yet hungry enough to make you feel wanted and elicit a light blaze in your lower stomach, right between the plushness of your thighs. though you’re the one who has bakugou pinned against the maple wood door behind you, he’s the one that controls the flame of your desire— poking at it until it roars bright and orange, scalding you from the inside out as he pushes a thick, muscled thigh between your legs and making sure it’s snug against your clothed cunt through your jeans. 

though he kisses you in a way you’d described as unhurried, cushiony and ductile, bakugou’s hands cup the maturing curve of your face between calloused fingers to tilt it upwards so he can pour more of his passion into you— enough to fill you to the brim as though to replace your soul with his own and leave you with a piece of him. his fingertips feel scarred with memories not quite sure you want to know the history of, fluidly sinking downwards until they cup the scope of your neck, dragging against your smooth unmarred flesh before finding purchase in your pesky clothes— tugging you closer to him to kiss you more, tease you more with his thigh grinding painfully slow into your aroused core. 

you can’t be any closer to a man you’ve only just met, noses becoming neighbours with how frequently they bump against one another between your sticky lip locks and the blaze in the base of two sets of lungs whenever either of you come up for air. your chests expand with every ragged breath you take and the more your lips touch and tongues glide over chapped surfaces before meeting in the middle. alcohol clouds your judgement, should you really be doing this? your dread and fear of the day to come simmering on the stove into something more raunchy and taboo— a one night stand the day before your mother is due to meet the ground and possibly her maker. maybe you’re a little sick for that. 

bakugou’s tongue feels like a new weight in your mouth, damn near down your throat but in a sexy way— drooling against your own, his spit shining against your chin as your makeout becomes nastier, sloppier and his thigh tenses up beneath every swirl of your hips down on him. there’s some sort of hunger, a growing and untamed appetite you have for one another, showing only the worst intentions for the rest of your night. 

“fuckin’…take it off—“ bakugou grunts, restless and hot under his collar. his pupils dilate until they’re filled with a menacing shade of obsidian black that’s diluted with the red in his eye. you can tell that he wants you, his touch searing straight through the layers of thick winter clothes you have on, scorching the mark of his fingertips against the fat at your hips while he plays with a loose thread on your sweater. “wanna fuckin’ see what’cha hidin’ sweetheart,” he adds in a disguised plea, letting you pull back only slightly so you can shrug of the top layer of clothing until you’re bare to the predator’s stare. admiring the view, bakugou drags a digit up the softness of your tummy, pinging your laced bra against your skin once he reaches the valley between your breasts and exhaling deep at the sight of them bouncing for him. 

a muscled arm circles your waist until you’re flush against bakugou’s bulky frame, hearts beating in sync, eyes fluttering across one another’s features illuminated by the shy sparkle of the moon peeking through the curtains and right into your room. bakugou’s skin sparkles under the silver light. his mouth is on yours again within a matter of seconds, a light blush panting his cheeks and the bridge if your nose all the while, his tongue licks into your mouth with insatiable wanton, the tip of it curling around the strings of saliva that connect the roof of your mouth to the pink muscle below.

it’s all to sedate himself, satisfy his raging ravenousness while the sweetness of your mouth drips onto his palette, making him go cross eyed and a throaty moan echo between you both. 

all this from kissing a woman he just met— from kissing you.

the situation is insanely absurd, not even close to bakugou’s regular style, but he can’t help but feel enticed by the way you nip at his bottom lip and run your fingers through his blonde locks from their roots to their ends, fisting them when he lets out a breathless chuckle against your open mouth and flexes his thigh against your jean-clad pussy once again. it’s only then that you seize the opportunity— pushing the stronger, well-built man up against the door once more with some force before you quickly sink to your knees beneath him. your eyes shimmer, your mind clouded over and your lips wet and parted— you’re a fallen angel for sure, a walking temptation for bakugou himself. 

he’s not a man strong enough to resist. 

the descent upon bakugou’s body, one seemingly built by the highest of gods and carved out of ingenious rock, had been too quick for him to notice. and now, the sight of you on your knees for him has him embarrassingly hot all over. he’s burning bright like molten lava as you make quick work of his snake-skin looking belt and push his jeans down with his boxers in one swift motion. your fingers twirl the soft tufts of blonde hair forming a happy trail, lips twisted into a giddy, wet smile as it leads you down to his cock. 

you press scorching kisses to bakugou’s pelvis, tracing your name against his golden skin with the tip of your tongue and grab at his tight ass with your eager hands, nails digging into the flesh until he snarls down at you. 

“fuckin’ hell sweetheart,” he laughs through the thickness of ardour caught in the ridges of his throat. “fuck me, yer an animal.” bakugou manages through stuttered breaths. he runs a hand through his mussed and sweaty locks, staring down at you with a wolfish grin as he does so.

mirroring his expression, you toy with the elastic waistband of his boxers and hum in content when his entire body tenses up. “what? did you think i was just gonna roll over and take it? you must not know girls from the city.” 

you can barely remember the journey back up to your room, both of you taking staggered and exaggerated steps across the slippery cobblestone surface of the whiteridge plaza, fuelled by sex crazed hormones and the thirty-five percent alcohol drinks pumping through your systems. the pair of you had stumbled up the stairs, curious hands slipping between layers of clothes and laughter. the sight of bakugou trembling above you makes the judgemental stares jirou and momo had given you completely worth it. 

you’d failed to notice that their sights were set on the blonde and not you.

after making yourself comfortable—your tongue twists at his skin just above the button of his jeans, tasting the salt on him, sucking a cute little pink mark there so bakugou leaves here tonight with the memory of you and the best head he’ll ever get in his life. you’re almost ashamed to admit how fast your thighs squish and squeeze together as you peel back the fabric and reveal bakugou’s cock to your greedy gaze— you drink in the sight of him, heavy as his length thuds against his tummy due to the weight of it. his tip shines under the moonlight with a thin layer of white which only indicates just how turned on the blonde stranger is.

the rest of him is thick— mouthwatering— and you can feel saliva pooling on the palette of your tongue as you run your fingertips up the blue-ish, purple-ish forked veins that prettily decorate the man’s shaft and his balls sit heavy with cum.

the drooling only gets worse when you take hold of bakugou’s cock, feeling it twitch to life beneath your fingertips— your hand dwarfed by his size. you can only imagine the deliciousness of the stretch you’ll experience when he takes you later, you don’t think you can wait either. 

“c’mon princess,” bakugou grumbles, his voice carnivorous and eyes intense as you squeeze him lightly between smaller-than-his fingers. his broad chest rises and falls rapidly, face twisting in a salacious mix of pain and pleasure with every teasing pump you give his cock. “f-fuckin’ put that pretty mouth t’good use, yeah? since ya got s’much to— fuck… t’fuckin’ say…” your thumb just grazes the leaky slit running across the centre of his bulbous, blistering tip, and the plumpness of your lips trace over each pulsating vein that’s wrapped carefully around his length as if they’re a perfect bow on the perfect present just for you. “open wide, sweetheart.” 

you hardly know this man, but in the time you’ve spent together it’s easy to tell that he’s far from a patient one. bakugou is a go getter, he gets what he wants, when he wants and by whatever means— so he thrusts up, hurting his gooey-cockhead against the seam of your lips, glossing them up with a salty-sweet layer of precum. he flinches at the contact and his head falls back against the door with a dull thump, bakugou fighting back a timbre moan when your grip on him tightens and you palm starts to stroke him at a steady pace— slickening up the centre of your hand. 

experimentally, you kitten lick his tip and your own eyes flutter at the taste of him— it’s addictive, drugging you up with an agonisingly amatory desire. “no one’s ever made you wait, have they?” you ask, voice dripping dangerously with arousal before taking bakugou deep into the wet cavern of your mouth— the spark residing in his blood red eyes tells you that you’re right, but you have little time to focus on his answer now that you have the heavy weight of his cock sitting against your writhing pink tongue. your own eyes flutter at the feeling, drool pooling in your mouth like an erotically hot flash flood. you’re completely full, feeling as if the blonde is halfway down your throat already— and that very idea only makes you crave more. 

you want all of what bakugou has to offer, content with how he pushes further into your mouth until his balls sit on your chin and precum oozes in thick waves against your tastebuds. “oh fuck…yer tight. shit, sweetheart,”  he curses from above you, his brawny arm thrown over his face as it burns bright with heat— bakugou draws his hips back while panting, hands fisted at his sides as he barely escapes the clutches of your needy little mouth so he can give you room to breathe. he swears he might cum when he hears you gargling. “can’t wait to see ya fuckin’ cry fer this cock. g’nna make y’such a pretty mess…”

missing his dick inside your mouth, you lean forward, pawing at his spit-slicked erection like a desperate little puppy— flicking your wrist in quick movements as you glare up at him. “then stop interruptin’ me and let me suck yer fuckin’ cock.” you say breathlessly, with a twinge of your old accent before sucking your one night-stand down again. his angry, sticky cockhead bulges against the inside of your cheek, sensitive slit rubbing along the soft epidermis there, only making him shudder until his back and slender waist arch away from the door. 

bobbing your head, you waste no time in working up a pace fast enough to have the blonde above you melting like putty in your hands— you fist what doesn’t fit, the movement of your soft palms guided by the copious amounts of precum that leaks onto your tongue, that you spit out onto bakugou’s shaft only to slurp back up and repeat the process. 

you breathe harshly through your nose, hollowing your cheeks as your nails sink deep into bakugou’s toned, beefy and jean-covered thighs to steady yourself before the plunge— they twitch beneath your grip and his hands slowly make their way to the back of your head. with erogenous doe eyes full of delirium you push down on the blonde’s cock, letting it hit the back of your throat while you’re forced to gag on him— nose pressed into the fluff of his happy trail. 

“that’s it pretty girl, so fuckin’ pretty takin’ me like this, look s’good with my dick down that slutty throat,” bakugou drawls, his accent layered thick on top of his praise makes your own essence soak the crotch of your panties, makes your head dizzy too— though that may be because of the lack of oxygen you’re getting, struggling to breathe around the fat cock plugging your drooling mouth. 

both of you keep still, letting your jaw go slack around him. one second you’re nursing on his precum, giggling around him and the next bakugou is fucking your throat until it bulges, using it as his own personal fleshlight. a frothy mix of spit and pre dribbles down your chin— his balls slapping against them with every weighty thrust of the blonde’s hips.

you grip those same swollen balls, rolling them between your soft fingers, breaking bakugou’s mind. all the while, he throws his head back, deep and throaty whimpers escaping his lips that he has caught between a row of pearly white teeth. 

bakugou’s hips roll languidly into the addictive heat of your mouth, dopamine sparking in small explosions across his brain. he thrusts again, and again, and again— his pupils dilated like a rabid animal while his gaze hones in on the way your tight little throat takes him over and over. he doesn’t know how he’ll cope after tonight, if he’ll be able to survive without your greedy mouth happily sucking on his dick. 

sweat beads in fat droplets against bakugou’s hairline, soaking through his sweater before he lets you go to breathe— watching you slowly pull off his cock with arousal glossed lips, coughing as oxygen fills your lungs and your chest heaves. “what’s the matter?” you chuckle once you’ve regained composure, going back to making out with the sloppy tip of bakugou’s girth. “can’t keep up?” 

your hook-up laughs back, using the hem of his shirt to wipe his brow before shrugging it off. within seconds, he’s cupping the roundness of your face and his rough thumbs are digging deep into your soft cheeks.

“oh. i could go all fuckin’ night, sweetheart, whether you make me cum or not, ‘m gonna make sure i fuck that dirty lil’pussy ‘till you forget how t’walk.” 

bakugou slurs in his heavy southern accent like it’s a promise, grabbing your tiny hand ( at least compared to his calloused one ) and guiding it into a fist around his achey, creamy cock. staying haunched over you, he finds your lips— tugging the bottom one away from you with his teeth before capturing you fully in a searing, messy kiss. he simpers at the taste of himself on you, mixed with the sweat sitting on your cupid’s bow.

he laps at your mouth, cupping the back of your head to deepen the lip lock— both of you moaning like fools into one another’s mouths and swallowing your raunchy song of laments and whines. the tune is only accompanied by the slick, dewy sounds of your hand jerking bakugou off. his hips continue to ram forward, never letting up their aberrant and urgent rhythm— fuelled by your hook-up’s innate need to cum. 

“shit— ‘m right there… ‘m right fuckin’ there, sweetheart,” he pants against your tongue avidly, losing pieces of himself to you as you palm him faster and faster— the lewd mix of your drool and his arousal slinging from his cockhead to your knuckles. “gonna fuckin’ cum… g-g’nna fuckin’ cum!” 

you work at him for a few seconds longer, kissing his red-hot tip every time it peeks through your closed fist and using your other hand to circle the seat of your palm against it, too.

he leaks ungodly amounts of arousal the closer you take him to orgasm, the world seconds away from crumbling around bakugou’s crimson gaze. “gimme that cum,” you say lowly, voice dipping. “want all of it.” you command, causing the dam to break and bakugou to finally hit his high. strings of his hot, viscous seed spurt from his sore, ravaged cock, painting your tongue, face and chest in his possessive shade of white. 

“holy…holy fuckin’—shit!” bakugou cries out, and you don’t slow your fist around him until he’s done cumming, catching any smaller spurts of his orgasm with your eager tongue— looking up at your hook up with a smile as bright as the moon when he finally stops trembling and starts coming back down to earth. 

though there’s static ringing in his ears and bakugou’s legs are beyond weak thanks to the life shattering head you’d given him— he still finds the strength within himself to haul you up from your knees and push you back until you hit the plush bed on the other side of the room. you squeal, bouncing in the sheets and pillows, but can’t help the streak of excitement that runs through you when you catch the darkened expression on bakugou’s handsome features as he looks down at you splayed out for him. 

“t-take…take off those fuckin’ jeans ‘n let me get at that cunt, s’my turn now, sweetheart.” 

you do as you’re told, unbuttoning the denim that suddenly feels a little too tight around your waist and kick your jeans off before bakugou cages you in against the bed— two sturdy arms stay planted firmly either side of your head.

the scent of flowers mixed with cotton that was embedded into the sheets is quickly replaced with the heavy musk of sex and caramel, which radiates off of bakugou in strong waves as he swoops down for another kiss. it’s softer than before, more fluid as his hot fingertips push their limits and explore what hides beneath the underwire of your bra. the blonde gropes at your plush mounds of flesh, twisting a nipple between a thumb and forefinger and leaves a trail of burning kisses down your neck— chuckling darkly at your shoulder when a feather-light gasp escapes you.

“b-bakugou,” you murmur needily, arching your back on instinct while he moves to unclip your bra with practised ease. “bakugou, please.” you add, all other logical words wasted on you as he encapsulates your pebbled nipple in his mouth and runs his tongue over it in smooth, wet circles. the mattress dips beside you from where bakugou’s shifted his weight to lie on his side to your right. tufts of sand blonde hair tickle your skin only causing goosebumps to rise against it in a ripple effect. 

“hmm?” comes his lazy reply, the man still lapping at your heaving chest, all while sucking pretty marks against your tits that you know will feel tender to the touch in the morning. he only looks up at you when he switches, leaving one fleshy mound covered in saliva in favour for tending to the other. “try moanin’ my name. that’ll get my attention, sweetheart.” bakugou knows exactly what you want, what you crave for next— leaving you teetering on the edge of insanity with his hand smoothing over your tummy. it’s destination beyond the little bow on the hem of your mismatched panties. 

pouting, you let your hips rise from the sheets only to have them forcibly pushed back down. “you’ve told me your name,” you say in an exasperated cry that has built up in the back of your throat. “it’s baku—“ 

“katsuki…s’katsuki when yer moanin’ pretty f’me, baby.” bakugou— katsuki— cuts you off, pressing his thumb into the crotch of your underwear to get a feel for how wet you are. “fuck, yer soaked. y’get this wet from suckin’ a stranger's cock, hah?” you almost hate that him teasing you only serves to turn you on more, your tight little hole gushing and clenching around nothing. the blonde grins at the whimpers you let out through gritted teeth, carefully tracing the letters of his name into your swelling clit. 

reaching down, you grip katsuki’s wrist to keep him in place, locked between your thighs— as if he might choose to pull away from your honeyed cunt at your next words. “f-fuck you.”

“fuck me, baby?” he coos to you condescendingly, his teeth sinking into the shell of your ear. “don’t think yer pussy can handle that just yet, need’a stretch her open first.” the blonde pulls your trembling, doughy thighs apart until his palm can fully cup your sex— already so sticky and warm for him even through the thin layer of fabric. bakugou growls in satisfaction, yanking your panties to the side and watching with perverted crimson eyes as your slick ties the material to your dripping mound. 

“please katsuki!” you try again, wailing like a petulant child for something…anything to relieve you of the unbearable heat twisting knots of ecstasy in your lower belly. 

he tsks in response, pushing his lips into mocking pout as if to console a baby. “a’ight, a’ight…calm down sweetheart. y’want my fingers? wanna feel good?” the blonde says airily as he eases a single finger past your fluttering entrance, curling it immediately against your molten ichorous insides. lust lodges itself into your throat, a silent scream on the seam of your lips while you reach out for something to hold, to bring you back down from cloud nine. 

your fingernails take residence in the pure white sheets beneath your writhing body and with your other hand, make a home for themselves in katsuki’s bulging biceps as he starts to finger you. they break crescent moons against sunshine skin, not hard enough to draw blood but enough to leave a reminder of your night with him.

he pushes in another digit alongside the first, slipping into you with a little resistance from just how thick they are. marvelling at the sensation of you rippling around him, of how hot your inner walls feel, bakugou curls his fingers once again— causing lewd, squelching sounds to reverberate in the air between your sweat-slicked bodies.

his dull fingertips brush against pleasure spots inside you that you didn’t even know existed, silver tears blessed by the moon starting to clump in your lashes, threatening to spill over at any moment. 

“yer so fuckin’ sensitive,” your hook up muses outloud ruthlessly. he forgets that he’s being mean, too entranced by the way your cute little sex sucks him in— tries so hard to stop his fingers from pulling out. “this fucked up from grindin’ against my thigh? from a couple of fingers? ‘ve barely even touched ya.” he’s forced to grind the seat of his palm against your puffy clit, helping your tight hole ease up just enough for him to pull his fingers back with your sweet juices running down his wrist before he pumps them forward— sending you into a fit of squeals. 

your brain actually lags, failing to register katsuki’s rapid and ravaging movements between your thighs that send your manuka honey mess flying up his arm and across your skin. he has your eyes rolling back into the abyss of your skull, your legs locking around his wrist and trapping him in place so that he can send you to the high heavens of electrifying pleasure over and over again. 

he’s reduced you to a puddle against the bed, all moans and hiccuped sobs and begs for mercy. you can’t breathe, can’t feel anything as bakugou continues his erotic assault on your ravaged pussy— searching for that one spot inside you that he knows will shut your brain off for good. “d’awh, that’s it baby, look at that pretty pussy— she likes gettin’ finger fucked like this. i can fuckin’ tell,” he rambles, a man lost in the sight of your arousal spewing out of your spasming hole in small streams every time he thrusts his fingers into you. “you spread your legs like this fer every man you meet?”

shaking your head, you can’t help the pathetic yowl that tumbles from your cherry-bitten lips when katsuki pins your hips to the ruined duvet— stopping you from chasing the blinding ecstasy he dangles in front of you like a carrot for a working horse.

“n-nuh..n-no.” 

“no?” your hook up smiles, pearly whites on display. you’re so cute underneath him, letting him stroke your enticing, sopping insides into the shape of him— preparing you to take him later on. the way you twitch and stir against the sheets with your mouth so full of saliva and your tongue rolling out over the plumpness of your lips. you’re such a fucking mess, but it pleases katsuki to no end. to have a stranger this fucked up and all for him.

“just the ones with blonde hair ‘n red eyes that say just what’cha like to hear, hah?” your feedback is nonexistent aside from your useless babbles that katsuki swallows, losing his battle in the urge to kiss you once again. he burns right through you, frying your nerve endings and neurons carrying logical thought across your brain. 

instead, katsuki fills you like an overflowing glass with pure, unadulterated bliss— forcing it into your bloodstream like alcohol, poisoning your veins with a slow stack of pleasure. building the stairs to your high. letting your lips go, he leans down to spit onto your pulsing mound, rubbing the frothy mix of your shared saliva into your budding pleasure nub, making you open up for him like a blooming flower even though it’s the middle of winter. 

your mind is still blank when the blonde speaks again, only grabbing your attention with a sharp slap to the cunt. “can’t even fuckin’ answer me that’s how much of a messy slut you are.” katsuki snarls mean, but angles his hand just right to press sweetly against your g-spot, grinning when your face crumples at the new pressure.

“‘m going to cum, katsuki.” you tell him earnestly, squeezing his bicep at the same time your cunt squeezes down on his fingers— practically falling apart on them. 

tilting his head to the side, katsuki speeds up the unrelenting pace of his digits thrusting in and out of you— pressing encouraging smooches to your shoulder as he watches you lose the fight to your high. “c’mon then, can feel ya clenchin’ around my fingers. make a mess on ‘em, sweetheart. so i can fuck ya nice ‘n proper after.” and your body follows his raspy command, reaching your orgasm with a high pitched and borderline pornographic moan, squirting hard right up katsuki’s arm and virtually forcing him out of you with how much leaks from your pulsating gushing cunt. 

katsuki gives you a second to calm down, nosing at your neck while your breathing slows and you feel ready enough to keep going. “can you take another?” he asks you huskily, slipping his fingers into his mouth with a moan— tasting your nectar on him. 

“i thought you said you were g’nna fuck me. good ‘n proper?” you slur, old accent slipping through when you finally open your eyes to look at him. bakugou shines all while smirking down at you, the crown of sweat on his head illuminated by the moonlight— giving him the appearance of an angel. maybe you’ve scored lucky tonight, comforted by the presence of your own angel after the loss of your mother. maybe that’s fucked up too, but you push the thought to the back of your mind— reaching up to soft blonde locks and tug him down for a wet, encouraging kiss. 

“a’ight, roll over baby. ass up, i’ll give ya what’cha want.” bakugou grunts smugly, tracing your hips as you roll onto your tummy and tuck your face into the pillows. “you know how fuckin’ gorgeous you are? your body…s’perfect,” he grabs handfuls of your ass, pulling your cheeks apart slowly as threads of your arousal drip between them. “y’want a condom? ‘m clean, but i wanna make sure yer comfortable.”

casting a sultry glance over your shoulder, you debate the choice. while you’re sure katsuki would feel amazing raw, you know for a fact your publicist would chew your head off for possibly getting pregnant and or sick from fucking a stranger before a funeral. so you decide to be smart, for once, and give him a nod. 

“gonna need a verbal response, sweetheart.” 

rolling your hips back until your ass pushes back against his growing erection. “a condom, please, katsuki.” 

he pats your bottom once, watching it jiggle proudly before reaching into his back pocket for a silver packet and shrugging off the rest of his jeans. sharp teeth sink into the curve of your behind, accompanied by sloppy kisses at the dimple of your spine and right up to your shoulder blades. “so you do follow orders…good girl,” he simpers, tearing the condom open with his piercing canines before rolling it onto his pulsing girth in one fluid motion. 

it’s not long before bakugou finds himself at your neck again, the knife-like edges of his teeth sinking into your neck while he lets you adjust to the weight of his body caging you in against the sheets. “you ready f’me, baby? ‘m gonna give you my cock now. wanna make sure you can take it.” he interrogates you lightly, searching the sex tainted air in the room for your consent, brushing his lips along your neckline and shoulders patiently.

“y-yeah. can take it, katsuki,” you stutter and rest your head back against his shoulder, bowing your body into his with a pleasingly fuzzy mind. grunting in approval, bakugou uses his knee to part you by the soiled meat of your thighs and spread you open for him again— manhandling you until you’re positioned in a way he likes.

grabbing hold of his dripping dick, katsuki runs his shaft through the length of your quivering pussy lips, grinding it against the heartbeat in your clit and tapping your clenched hole a few times before he whines needily at the sticky and indecent sounds your sexes make when they slot together perfectly.

you’re so wet, oozing at every chance you get, breathing hot and heavy as the blonde slips his mushroomed tip past your tight entrance— he snickers smugly at how well you take him and so fast, clamping down on katsuki as if never to let him go. he rocks his hips experimentally, testing your sensitivity and how badly you want him by fucking you with only the tip at first— taking at you when you whine.

pushing back onto him, pleading with your body for more— you sigh desperately. “don’t tease, bakugou…” 

“s’katsuki,” bakugou cups your throat as he corrects you, giving it a reassuring squeeze as his nose nudges the side of your head. “hold on f’me baby, doin’ such a good job. waitin’ to be fucked. have a little patience, will ya?” he rasps, taunting you as he thrusts all the way in, hips flush against your fleshy ass and bottoming out inside the warmth of your crying cunt. he sticks a thumb in your mouth to pacify your cloying cries— letting you suck on it as he pushes your arched back down onto the sheets and relishes in the warmth of your sloppy, syrupy walls wrapped around his painfully bricked up shaft.

and while he loves the feeling— katsuki finds it within himself to pull back from your selfish and darling little hole to set a sensual, deep-hitting tempo, dragging his seedy latex covered tip along your ribbed walls and pleasure spots. he rolls his hips like a rushing river, making sure that they hit so deep you feel him stirring up your guts.

the sheer force of his thrusts already have the headboard bouncing off of the wall, tearing crybaby-like and pitiful yelps from between your cherry-bitten and tear stained lips. katsuki takes rein over your body like a barbarian brute claiming occupied land, ruling over what little thought runs through your mind. your hands take purchase in the poor pillows bellow you— the ones that swallow your gluttonous screams while you’re fucked to the moon and back, stars dotting your tear lined vision.

mind blanking, there’s hardly anything left for you to do except take what you’re given while bakugou takes you from behind— moulding your insides into his shape with every wild and feverish buck of his hips into yours. “f-fuck, katsuki. m-more, need it!” you squeal hungrily, succumbing to his intensity as you throw your sticky ass back onto him in your best attempt to match his rhythm. squeezing around every pulsing vein that decorates his fat, milky cock while it pushes and pulls at your gummy walls with lewd squelches, bakugou nudges your g-spot over and over again. “god, fuck…you’re so deep.” 

“yer such a greedy girl, so eager to get fucked by the first man who calls ya pretty.” katsuki moans condescendingly, thrusting his thumb past your lips in perfect harmony with his dick plunging into your tight hole. using his free hand, the blonde grabs at your ass and spreads your slicked up cheeks apart— working himself further into your heat, stretching you open for him and him alone.

“love the way you feel around me, sweetheart, how you suck me in.” the praise relieves any anxiety that rattled through your body before— a lustful haze fogging your mind so you don’t have to think for yourself for once. it’s like bakugou knows the pain  whiteridge has caused you, knows what it’s like to be forced away from what you love and written behind his rough touches is a sense of sympathy. 

you hate the feeling of sympathy, but crave the numb mind you know that sex with katsuki bakugou can give you— even if that makes you a self-centred brat. “actually you’re the second to have—oh fuck!” you choke on the tail end of your words as bakugou lands a sharp spank against your bottom, a different kind of pain blooming under the skin there. it makes you drip nastily, juices running down bakugou’s length until it practically bathes his balls as they clap against the curve of your ass, heavy and full of a brand new load of cum just for you, ruining the sheets and blankets in turn.

the way he fucks you is hard, pounding you into the mattress which spring’s squeak for dear life. katsuki ravages you like he loves you— though he hardly knows you…but you feel his vulnerability, what you’re sure you’d see in the red hues of his eyes if you were on your back instead. 

“‘m always gonna be first, baby,” bakugou growls like a feral animal, pressing his body hotly against yours until his chest is to your sweaty back, hardly peeling away from you. greed, anguish and yearning spark within you both, their explosions compressed between your bodies as they move in sync— skin meeting skin, slapping throughout the hotel room.

“the first person y’think about when you touch yerself after this, first dick you’ll imagine when you’re gettin’ fucked by any person after me—“ the blonde’s voice is tight, stuck on the ridges of his throat as he pounds away at your creamy pussy, just brushing against your cervix in a way that has you howling at the moon. your core locks and unlocks around the curve of his dick, choking precum out of katsuki, fat drops of it beading at his sensitive slit— making him falter for only a second.” r’member sweetheart, i. never. fucking. lose.”

katsuki punctuates each of his words with lunges of his hips forward, practically forcing you up the bed since you wobble weakly on your hands and knees. you’re sure that by now your nails have torn holes in the linen below from how much you’ve gripped and scratched at them— but the amount couldn’t even begin to compare to how much of his precum smears along the inside of the condom, which slides against your wrecked insides, juices drooling down your thighs in a honeyed, viscous and gooey mess each time bakugou jackhammers into you. “you’re s’fuckin’ filthy,” he drawls, red stare laser focused on where your bodies meet. “remind me, sweetheart, who’s makin’ you such a fuckin’ mess?” 

“y-you!” you babble brainlessly, somehow finding the strength to reach behind you to grab at straw blonde hair— forcing katsuki back onto his haunches while you bring him down for an uncoordinated kiss. you mewl happily at the taste of salt on his cupid’s bow and shift onto your knees as well. he grins, licking impressed curse words into your mouth as he gets the idea— a singular arm of his curling around the fat at your waist to support you as you bounce back onto his thick cock. “you make me a mess, katsuki, only you.” you mumble against his swollen lips, spewing the lust blown words against his strawberry tongue and memorising the taste of sex in his mouth while he fumbles around your connected bodies to toy with your pleasure nub. 

appeased by your hands lost in his hair and your pussy working itself down on him, sucking him in like magic— katsuki rewards you with a pinch to your clit and a barrage of love bites along the column of your throat, grinning wicked at the ocean deep purples and blues begin to blossom underneath your skin. “wanna see you cum f’me like this, stuff you full. y’deserve it, baby. fer grindin’ this cute lil’ cunt down on me.” he wants it, so bad— you can tell by the way he pulses to life inside of you, drives his dick upwards to chase the sweltering heat of your mound and your arousal every time you pull off of him only to slam back down.

bakugou pushes his creamy cock deep, deeper, as far as it can go until your back arches away from the safety of his chest and your lips part in loud, open mouthed moans— all with the hope of sending you over the edge, to make sure he stays true to his word and has you hooked on the way he fucks for weeks and weeks on end. “god, you make me wanna lose it.” 

you’ll remember nothing else but the shape of him, once you’re out of this hell hole. 

and neither of you can tell who wants that more.

vulnerability trickles into the air, intertwining with the heartache that neither of you dare to voice but anchors you both down to the same shitty town. bakugou changes the angle of his hips, grinding it so that his bulbous cockhead never lets up on that one special spot inside of you— sending shocks of serotonin, dopamine and other happy sex hormones from your brain straight to the tips of your toes. they curl and your fingers clench, pulling on katsuki’s hair so hard that it lulls a desperate bleat out of him while his freehand brushes over your nipples in a weak attempt to drag you towards your high. 

his lashes tickle your shoulders as he buries his face against you, praises and curses drenching your skin— alternating between little nips here and there. neither of you seem to care when bakugou breaks skin, your blood on his lips. “a-are you close?” you simper, tears of lust dotting your lashes as he slams his cock into your tight hole over and over again. “‘m sorry…don’t think i can—oh shit— hold it, ka’suki!” 

he nods his head at your question, eyes screwed shut while you gush all about the place. “cum f’me, let go. don’t need’ya t’hold on, sweetheart,” he moans to you through gritted teeth, rolling your clit between a finger and thumb, grinding his tip into your pleasure spot. “‘m right behind ya…oh fuck! there we go,” he squeezes your swollen nub once, cooing to you through a chuckle as white flashes behind your eyes and the damn finally breaks— release trickling from your body in clear streams. bakugou swallows the scream of his name that rips through you, holding you tight through the aftershocks of your high before he follows you over the edge. 

you’re still twitching when he pulls out of you and shoves you face first into the bed— tearing off the condom to jerk himself off over you, hot stripes of his seed landing against your back, potent and milky before exhaustion settles into his bones and katsuki collapses to the right of you once again. 

the pair of you lay there, together in a comfortable silence as you catch your breaths, neither of you having the brain capacity to speak just yet. you roll over to face the blonde stranger, not sure if your night together solicits the comfort you crave after being fucked stupid. “c’mere,” bakugou says tiredly, though his eyes are still closed. “can feel you starin’ at me… ‘nd contrary to your first thoughts on me from the bar, ‘m not entirely an asshole.” he cracks one eye open to look at you expectantly— lifting an arm up so you can snuggle into his chest. 

you take the chance before he can change his mind, settling against katsuki sleepily. “you might not be an asshole but you fuck like one,” you laugh into his skin, feeling his chest rise and fall with yours. “which is a good thing, by the way.” 

“i’d hope so. i didn’t wreck yer shit only t’get called a terrible fuck.” katsuki smirks. “where’s my thanks, by the way?”

“you can have the free hotel soaps ‘nd first dibs on the shower in the morning, that good enough for you, blondie?” you shoot back, fighting back the sleep beginning to creep up on you.

it’s a fight worth losing though, for bakugou makes sure to pull enough blankets over you both for a good night’s sleep, barely hanging on himself.

“ya got’cha self a deal, sweetheart.” is the last thing you hear him say, before drifting off to sleep. 

you wake up the next day with a steady pound against the inside of your skull, the world spinning as if someone has grabbed you by the head and shaken up your brain— like a never ending rollercoaster with enough twists and loops to make you want to spew out your guts. it’s still dark outside, from what you can tell, and winter’s grasp on the early morning sky is as strong as ever, fighting off the sun’s need to rise.

in the inky abyss of your hotel room, you shift around the bed in search for your phone— finding it plugged in and fully charged on the nightstand next to you…though you don’t remember doing so last night. there’s a few emails from mina asking you if you arrived safely, some tweets from fans playfully complaining about the cliffhanger ending of your last book and one message from the funeral director with a few details about today’s plans. 

funeral director at 6:29 AM - the procession starts at 8:30 AM sharp! ceremony will last until 3:50 PM taking place at ‘the freedom’ chapel with any celebration taking place at your old residence at—

clicking your phone shut, you don’t bother to read the rest of the text and stare blankly at yourself on its screen. she, your reflection, looks back at you tiredly, mascara clumped in your lashes and panda circles around your eyes— you feel a little greasy, feel exhaustion in your bones like weights have been tied to you only to pull you down. 

she did this to you, the person who was supposed to raise you, left you a hollow mess and a void of emotion who couldn’t feel a single thing towards her death except for fear or anxiety. 

your mother. 

turning on the bedside lamp, you’re immediately met with the sight with a note, orange juice and an array of medications to combat your raging hangover— a piece of bakugou left with you after your whirlwind of a night together. you pop the pills and swallow the juice with a twitch of your face at how bitter it tastes after being so freshly squeezed, and through the clarity of your glass you spot your freshly pressed clothes across the room for the funeral. a simple black, sleek jumpsuit and matching blazer. crisp and hanging from the wardrobe. 

a kind gesture from a man you hardly knew, spoke volumes compared to what you’d been shown as a child. 

it wasn’t anything close to the love you needed, but it was the kindness that you deserved all along. 

you don’t go down for breakfast, with barely two hours to get ready and be on your way. showering off the grit, grime and sex from the night before and slip into your clothes— into someone new. a woman who’s meant to miss her mother and not the woman who had been forced to grow up fast and raise herself. by the time you’re all dressed and ready for the day’s events, you’d only just remembered the note left by your hook up from the night before so you swipe it up from your mess on the bed, tucking it into your designer bag and slide on your red-bottom heels.

“o-oh! you look nice,” momo chirps after you come down from the landing, heels clicking against the trusty wooden flooring of the hotel. her hair is notably slicked back, wearing a form fitting black dress as she checks over her front of the house book. “i love your—“ pulling up your shades with leather gloved hands, you smile bright at the hostess and makes her stutter— red painted lips seeping into your cheeks. “look. you look beautiful.” 

you reach the receptionist’s desk in three short strides and clicks, and hum with appreciation. “a girl’s gotta show up and show out at these things, don’t you agree?” you say, and you’re sure she might think you’re insane for the nonchalant front you have up. “where are you headed looking so pretty?” 

“the funeral,” jirou responds for her, appearing from the back in the same manner as before, dressed in a similar manner to her partner. “we uh— our parents were invited along.” 

momo adds on. “a-and! we thought you could do with the company, since you’re here for your mother’s funeral alone and all. we could even go together! i can't image how hard this must all be!“

“it’s not hard,” you snap without meaning to and your back straightens like a steel rod. though you hadn’t cared enough to think of a guest list, telling the organisers to invite whoever they pleased so long as they got the job done, you didn’t anticipate that they would hand out passes to everyone in town— to everyone who hated you. “and thank you for the offer ladies, but i have a car waiting for me. i’ll send it back later for my luggage.”

turning swiftly on your designer heels, you leave the hostess couple before you can feel a flick of remorse— before they can see even a crack in the foundation of walls you’d spent years building up. because no one deserves to know how much this town and your mother hurt you. no one.

it’s not hard. today will be easy. you tell yourself, buckling yourself into the black expensive car that’ll be parading you around all day— following right behind the hearse, carrying the villain from your childhood inside. with some time alone before being exposed to the fake tears and falsely sympathetic apologies, you dig into your bag for the note from bakugou, thumb trailing over his chicken scratch handwriting on the front of the folded paper.

‘good luck out there tomorrow or break a leg, whatever they say. give this town fucking hell like you did me last night.

— k.bakugou.’ 

his words bring an eruption of laughter out of you. so like him, though you’re not really sure what him really is. katsuki bakugou is a man you shared a night of passion with, not a friend you’ve known all your life— even if flashes of a face so similar to his resonate with memories of your brother and your childhood. your heart settles then, right there in your chest, no longer battling the anxiety of facing your old home and all its inhabitants. 

and maybe, you’re not alone in all this— maybe really you do have an ally here. 

you’re not unfamiliar with the concept of death, nor sudden ones either. you have your older brother, izuku to blame for that. 

your memories of him had always been fond. you remember luscious curls of evergreen hair and sun-spotted freckles that looked like the constellations he’d point out to you through the bedroom window late at night. his hands were warm, always handling you with care as if you were a wounded baby bird— especially when you’d cried or scraped your knee. you remember how smart he was, nose always buried deep into a book rather than going outside to kick rocks and snap twigs with the other boys his age. you remember loving izuku, chest bursting with adoration and admiration whenever you looked at your brother because he always held the same emotions when his forest eyes were settled on you. 

he was only a few years older, but he felt like your platonic soulmate— your twin flame. back then, your mother had always said you were inseparable, when it was just the three of you in your big, old and creaky house on the far side of the town. you were happy then. without your dad who had left you, you were happy. and even then, with only a few years of life under your belt, you knew that izuku would be your person forever. 

what a naive and childish wish you’d had. 

nothing lasts forever; not every flower on the forest blooms into something brilliant. some things die, outcompeted by others in the quest for survival. you wanted that for izuku— so badly— wanted that for you both together. 

one day he was there, and another, he was gone. 

izuku midoriya died just shy of his eleventh birthday— in the summer when whiteridge was warm and the golden leaves hadn’t fallen and the rivers hadn’t frozen over yet. for everyone except your mother, his death was an unfortunate accident, a miscalculation and a misstep on your brother’s part. he was smart, but accidents don’t happen to smart people— is what your mother lived by. his death was no mistake to her, and she chased every single lead until she’d chased away everything and everyone in town trying to prove that. 

she gave up her duty. she was the town’s main source of produce and other food products, and while she was allowed to feel her pain and, to cry for help like any grieving mother would— loosing her only son and in that process, she’d given up on the town’s people and her job leading the grocers to feed everyone. 

even when your dear izuku was put into the ground, his soul could not rest— because your mother was no longer looking out for you. instead, she searched for whatever truth she thought lay behind his death. your only parent neglected you, subjected you to the vicious cruelty to the people in the town who had thought she’d gone mad trying to find something that wasn’t there. 

from the moment izuku died, you no longer had a mother or a brother or a family to fall back on. you only had yourself, and what you could do to take care of your inner child. you didn’t have time to grieve, to cry after losing your soulmate because of how much your mother needed someone to keep her alive and eating and drinking and bathing. for years, you were her lifeline; for years, you were her shield and her foundation until you could no longer handle it. 

until you had to run away. 

so, of course, you’re no stranger to the black mist known as death that had taken the precious light from your only sibling and clouded your mother’s judgement. maybe that’s the sick reason why you feel numb and look as blank as a canvas during the entirety of your mother’s funeral service. it’s beautiful, you suppose— the organ playing while someone blathers on and on about the miracle of life and the woes of death.

but you hate the entirety of it— how people speak of the woman who failed at raising you as if they knew her personally. you’re surrounded by people who hide their resentment for the midoriya name behind fake tears they’d cultured in their eyes. you catch it in slight twitches in their faces while whiteridge townsfolk mutter their fondest encounters with your mom with wobbles in their voices that sound overly rehearsed and pauses in the perfect places that give others the time to weep. the whole ordeal makes you feel queasy and sick to your stomach, how these people can find the most tender words to speak all while holding some of the most blackened hearts you’ve ever come across right in their chests— beating selfishly strong. 

you sit alone, on the front pew of the chapel— radiating resentment in thick waves. for your mother, for whiteridge, for even your darling brother. wishing that he never left you, so that he could be sitting right next to you right now, suffering with you through this ceremony. wondering what life would be like if he were still by your side. would the people of whiteridge have turned their backs on you if he were still here? 

would he hold your hand as they lowered your mother’s casket into the dirt a few paces away from where his lay? 

the day doesn’t end at the chapel, plenty of cars clog the driveway to your mother’s house where the ‘after-party’ is being held. though the place is rackety and a little gross, the organisers had done it up well enough for people to forget the death that lingers in every corner as they pop open bottles of expensive wine and champagne you’d had imported for the very occasion. they’re hypocrites. celebrating her death rather than the life she lead— and perhaps that makes you the same, being relieved that she’s no longer breathing to torture you with how much more she loved your brother compared to you. 

everywhere you turn, there’s someone apologising to you, someone patronisingly telling you that they’re sorry for your loss and wishing you well in wherever life may take you next, cooing at you about how good you look and how pretty you’ve gotten since they last saw you. you wonder if they really pity you for having no family or if they’re after the fortune and name you’ve made for yourself since leaving town. you’d changed, of course, carried a classy air about you and that was enough to fuel their gossip for weeks.

they were all but dying to ask you about how wealthy you were now. after all, your outfit cost a fortune. neighbours and doctors and store owners and highschool classmates that you used to know suffocate you with their condolences until you feel like you really might cry from how overwhelmed you are— it’d be the first time that day. 

hastily, you make a break from the kitchen for a moment to breathe— taking large gulps of air as you steady yourself against the rusting, cool metal of the kitchen sink. “give ‘em hell, he said,” you chuckle to yourself, reminding yourself of the words bakugou had left you with. “more like they’re giving me hell.” you wonder where he is, almost everyone in town is here invading your childhood home and your personal space… you’d have thought he would’ve at least been one of those people but then again, he was just like you.

he fucking hated this place. you grab a full bottle of aged red wine and a handful of hors d’oeuvres that have yet to be served up and shove them down your throat— chewing at them unceremoniously just to kill time and give yourself a moment to think.

it’ll only be a few more hours until you run out of the alcohol that warms them up and loosens their lips, then you’ll have the house to yourself— see over a few repairs and head back to the city within the week. free of all of your childhood trauma and hopefully enough material to write a short book on your life so you can please mina, your publicist. until then, you decide, you’ll camp out here in the kitchen where it’s safe and quiet and peaceful. 

at least that’s what you thought.

“i am so sorry for your loss.” a nasally voice cuts through your silence and you sigh, exasperated. 

popping the cork on the wine bottle in hand, you take a swig before turning around to superficially thank your guest. “that’s so kind of you to say…” you begin, voice trailing off and gaze dropping a few centimetres as you meet the beady eyes of an old schoolmate. 

“you probably don’t remember me, now that’cha all big and famous. we went to school together, i sat next to you in calculus. i’m minoru—“ 

“mineta.” you finish for the purple haired male with an obvious grimace and sip your wine again, leaning back against the kitchen counter. “i remember you. you peaked up my skirt every day throughout highschool ‘n tried to sell my underwear after gym twice a week in senior year.” you state, tongue glossing over your teeth from under your painted red lips. “you made my life a living hell.” 

you hated him, it burns bright in your eyes as you look down on mineta. you hated everyone who watched on as he made a fool of you throughout your teen years. you hated this place.

he laughs you off, taking a step closer to you and you stand up straight. “let’s put that in the past shall we? we were just kids!” mineta gestures between the two of you, making the hairs on your neck stand up on end. “besides, we both know you could’a done with the cash. since your mom went kinda cookoo ‘n wasn’t supporting you—“ 

“what do you want?” you breathe out, frustrated and hot under the collar, torn between throwing up and killing the man. “you still here to bother me, mineta?” you’re not the same girl you were in highschool, a victim to your mother’s mistakes and the cruelty of the people around you. but, fucking hell, it stings. to have come all this way as someone who established herself as a writer, with more fame and fortune than this town can ever hope to see— only to be seen as an easy target again, like you’re a worthless piece of meat.

“i just wanted you to know, that if you ever need anything,” mineta winks, his behaviour scummy and reminiscent of your old school days. “then ‘m right here to—“ 

“help?” a timbre, calm voice cuts through— making the short and slimey man before you jump out of his skin. “she won’t be needin’ any of that from you, minoru.” 

looking up, relief and recognition washes over you. your saviour looks a little different than you remember, but his ruby gem eyes are still warm and still safe— he’s a lot taller now, a broad strapping young man that has to duck as he makes himself known in your mother’s tiny and cluttered kitchen. locks of silky, eye-catching cherry hair would have been tumbling down his back had it not been effortlessly thrown up into a fitting man bun. he glows, skin golden and clear— with only a few scars littering his bulging arms, peeking out from his rolled up sleeves. his suit jacketed abandoned somewhere else in the house. 

“k-kirishima!” mineta squeaks.

“why don’cha head outside, minoru? i heard they’re startin’ to serve up cake. wouldn’t want ya to miss out.” though he says his words slowly and his handsome face remains kind, there’s something eerily threatening about the way kirishima speaks to the other man that makes him scramble outside to join your other unwanted guests. “hey,” the redhead greets you next, muttering your name and approaching you as if you’re a deer about to be spooked. “you okay?” 

letting out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding, you nod your head vigorously and set down your wine— face bursting with your first genuine smile of the evening. “well, if it isn’t eijirou kirishima!” you squeal excitedly, tipsily thrusting yourself into his arms and giving him a tight squeeze. 

eijirou kirishima was probably the one thing that kept you sane during your time at whiteridge. growing up, he was the boy next door, the one who always had missing teeth but the biggest grin you’d ever seen. and even though you’d spent most of your childhood by izuku‘s side, you remember afternoons full of sunshine playing with the redhead from across the street, digging up worms and rolling in mud puddles that you’d both get in trouble for doing later on. you were close, up until you lost your brother.

other parents keeping their children away from you didn’t stop eijirou from splitting his lunch with you at recess or lending you his protractor in geometry class ( in exchange for your help, of course, it wasn’t his strongest subject ). 

the pair of you officially cut ties when kirishima didn’t continue with highschool in favour for taking over the family repair business— and after you’d graduated, you skipped town, not leaving him with anything to contact you by. so eventually, you lost touch. 

“lil’ midoriya!” eijirou cheers back, arms wrapping around your waist to squeeze you into him. his hugs were always incredibly comforting, and being tucked into the plushness of his chest does wonders for soothing your inner turmoil. “s’been a while.” 

“i-uh, i actually don’t go by that name anymore,” you mumble to him, feeling like a sheepish school girl under his inquisitive gaze. 

“oh yeah, i forgot. yer like some big-shot writer now, huh? ya even look the part!” kirishima keeps his hands on you as he pulls back to give you a once over, twirling you lightly while the fabrics of your clothes fly about.

you can’t quite place it, how he makes you feel so small, in a good way but you don’t dwell on it— happiness simmering in your veins instead of anguish. for once. “i haven't completely changed! like you said…it’s just been a while!” 

“change ain’t a bad thing, darlin’,” he grins, the casual use of the pet name nearly making you short-circuit. “but ya did lose yer accent.” 

“oh my god, shut up! you’re like the third person who’s mentioned my accent since i’ve been back!” 

the pair of you share a laugh, which quickly fizzles into thin air as nostalgia clouds over you both. kirishima hasn’t heard you laugh in almost a decade, and you haven’t seen him at all in the same amount of time. he slowly lets you go, and an odd mix of pity and sadness crosses his features as he looks down at you. “ya looked so gloomy t’day. i-i wanted to speak with you earlier. it’s just…been so long,” he whispers, the happiness of the previous moment fading away. “you can’t be holdin’ up well.” 

you’ve tried your hardest, not to feel sadness, to seem weak in front of the adults who failed you as a child. but it has been hard. your mother is gone; your brother is gone; and even though it always has been just you— that feeling is even more real to you now. 

shaking your head, you blink back tears you didn’t know had, as if it’ll make them stop. “i’m not,” you reply quietly. “but such is life, right? we’re all a little miserable.” 

kirishima hums in agreement but doesn’t seem pleased with your answer. “wanna get outta here? looks t’me like you could do with a lil’break. my moms are around, they could clear this place out while we go for a drive?” he suggests without thinking, the kindness in his heart speaking for him. 

eijirou’s always been like that. kind.

he was one of the few people in your life to show true kindness to you. 

so trusting him blindly, and without hesitation, you take the metaphorical hand he holds out to you and give him a simple…

“yes, i’d love to.” 

“r’member when we were little, ‘nd izuku used to make us sneak out t’come watch shooting stars ‘nd meteor showers?”

like he’d promised, kirishima took you for a drive ten or fifteen minutes just outside of whiteridge where the woods are peaceful and the sky is clearest. it had gotten dark, fast, the moon making herself at home up above and her children shining bright right along with her as your red haired companion parked up just shy of a spot you recognised from when you were kids.

the little clearing, you remember frequenting, was surrounded by the cool scent of pine as if it were a blanket— crystal streams running through with a soft rippling tune to them, and the perfect view of every star ever to be named if you find yourself there on a clear night. its almost ironic how eijirou had driven you here, as if he knew you needed a moment with your brother after such an emotionally draining day. even after all of these years, he still knows you, what comforts you when you’re overwhelmed and need a breath of fresh air. 

kirishima sits in the back of his truck, leaning back with eyes illuminated by the balls of fire burning a million miles away as he speaks. he looks to you after— his face soft and smile…adorably toothy. his entire aura, comforting. 

you turn to face him with a warm smile of your own, fixing his suit jacket that he’d given you over your frame, your fingers just barely peeking out of the sleeves. “yeah, and you used to make me hold your hand ‘cause you were scared of walking here in the dark.” you’re teasing the red head as if no time has passed, like you’re still that little squadron of neighbours and other kids that would follow your brother’s lead. kirishima was just the one you were closest to out of all your older brother’s friends. he lets you saddle up to him once you get cold, wrapping a bulking arm around you— his hand on your knee, practically dwarfing you in size. 

“it was f’protection!” eijirou whines as you nestle yourself into him, praying that you don’t hear fast and hard his heart is beating. 

“oh sure, for protection,” scoffing, you don’t even bother looking up at your old friend— choosing to press the chub of your right cheek further into his warmth. “it was like you were in love with me or something.”

it’s a joke, initially. you’re still teasing him like you would have when you were younger— back then you thought you were the only pretty girl eijirou knew. he was much more squirmish and easily flustered back then. and even though it feels like no time has gone by, kirishima has gotten bolder. he doesn’t try to push you away, but instead pinches your waist playfully and rests his head on top of yours as if to hide his raging red cheeks under the guise of keeping you warm. 

“…’nd what if i had been.”

a comfortable silence settles between you both in the back of eijirou’s truck— punctuated by the odd chirps of wild animals and the bristle of the trees around you. “then i wish you’d have said something…maybe i would’ve stuck around.” you say quietly, your voice a little hoarse from the alcohol you’d consumed earlier on in the day. 

you feel him shake his head above you, soft hair tickling your forehead. “then i’d just have been holdin’ you back,” kirishima tells you like he means it, as if he knew the outcome of telling you how he really felt in the past. he doesn’t want you to dwell, to feel regret on a day of loss like this. “i mean look at’cha! you’ve got the job of your dreams. you’re successful. ya must be happy!”

your response is immediate and solemn, your pretty features airbrushed with an unwritten expression. “i wouldn’t quite call it happiness, eiji.” in the mess of your limbs huddled for heat, you walk your digits down the length of the red head’s arm and play with his fingers timidly. “but look at you! you’ve grown so much, i’m sure i used to be taller than you.”

“oh yeah?” kirishima doesn’t like that you’re sad. he spent too much of his teen years watching you drown in it. “well maybe—!”  pulling himself off of you ( regretfully ), he quickly hops off the truck to stand between your legs— hoisting you by the backs of your thighs into the air so he can twirl you around in his arms. “you just got shorter!”  the night sky twists into a Milky Way cocktail above you, pure and genuine laughter spilling from between your lips ( your lipstick has long worn off by now ) as you hook your ankles at the small of kirishima’s back to keep yourself secure.

coming to a standstill once more so he can catch his breath, your childhood friend brushes a thumb over your hip before he whispers to you. “…there’s one other reason why i dragged you out here.” he says your name, garnering your attention.

“and what might that be?”

“my moms wanted to know when i’d be able to start the repairs on your house, they got the call from your solicitor a couple days ago and—“

your nails dig into his broad shoulders out of excitement, head whipping down in a happy rush. “no way! you’re the repairman? thank god! at least i’ll be seeing someone i like everyday.” 

kirishima breaks out into a grin at your joke and pokes at your cheek “ya like me?”

of course you do. he’s your friend, your reason for sanity…maybe your first love.

but you won’t ever admit that. you don’t need anything tying you down to this town— no less, someone like kirishima. 

someone who actually cares for you. 

“don’t push it, red.” you warn him simply, your tone etched with a light friskiness to let him know you’re joking— biting the tip of his finger too. “you can come work on the house whenever you’re ready. it’s not a problem to me since i’ll be a little busy working on something the whole time. just let me know the costs of anything you need, i’ll pay full price for everything, and then some.” 

adjusting you in his grip, eijirou bounces you and smirks sexily when you squeak in surprise at his movements— at his brute strength. “oh? what’cha workin’ on lil’miss writer?” 

“i don’t kiss and tell, eijirou.” you wink.

“really? even if i kiss ya right now? if i offer you a discount on the house?” he keeps his voice low and gravelly as he talks quietly against your earlobe— and you don’t believe for a second the stupid southern hunk doesn’t know what effect he’s having on you. 

so you swat him, right in the chest and pout like a petulant child— trying to hide how easily flustered he makes you. “nuhuh! and it’s full price or no work for you, mister.”

“alright, alright! i got it!” kirishima grins, twirling you both once more. “full price and no spoilers. now c’mon, let’s get’cha home. yer shiverin’ like a city purse dog.”

calming down, you steady your hands on his broad shoulders— feeling the muscle ripple beneath your touch. “thank you for tonight, eiji.” there’s a certain wistfulness that you speak with, satisfaction and happiness breaking through your usual simple tone of voice. eijirou kirishima has always brought out the better sides in you, soothing your inner child. “all of this, it helped me feel better about not being sad for my ma’s death. helped me feel a little more free.” before you can back down or change your mind, you plant a soft smooch against the side of his face— staining his skin with the last of a crimson lipstick mark. 

his gaze that matches the colour painted onto the plushness of your lips flicks down to them, before looking away— embarrassed. “oh… well s’nothin’... you deserve t’have someone t’rely on. everyone does,” kirishima mumbles as he sets you down on two feet, scratching the back of his head bashfully, letting out a nervous chuckle. “we should uh…really get’cha back. ‘fore i do somethin’ reckless.” 

he bundles you up into his truck after that, guiding you into the passenger’s seat and buckling your seatbelt in— even though you both know that you’re more than capable of doing so yourself. you let him, because for once, you feel like you deserve to be cared for and looked after. the drive back is shorter than it was to the creak, mostly because you spend it teasing your old friend, swiping his cowboy hat from the back seat and shoving it atop his messy red mane to make him laugh so hard that his truck swerves along the empty mountain roads.

your mother’s house is clear and vacant when kirishima’s truck pulls into its gravel driveway, just like he’d promised you. both of his moms had texted him on your drive back to let him know that all of your guests had been promptly kicked out, leaving the place near spotless— sparing you the worry of having to clean up in the morning. like the gentleman he is, eijirou offers his hand to you when you hop out of his truck, and the novelty of it all warms you from the inside out, wrapping around your ice cold heart. 

the steps to the front porch creak under the weight of the well-built man, almost dwarfing the thing as kirishima ducks his head to stand under it more comfortably— towering over you at the front door in the process. “i uh—probably should give you this back—” you say breathlessly, watching the air wrapped around the syllables of your words come out in cool puffs. you gesture to his suit jacket, still drowning you and move to shrug off the fabric, remembering how he’d so sweetly given it to you. 

“n-no! keep it,” kirishima blurts out quickly, before you can even finish speaking. he grabs your hands— face hot and tainted with a bright rosey blush. “i’ll be round in a few days t’come pick it up ‘n fix a few things around the house anyways… maybe y’could try and get the lipstick stain out until then?” he’s staring down at you like he’s going to kiss you, like he wants a little more than an innocent lip lock too.

and you’d be a liar to say you weren’t thinking of inviting your childhood friend upstairs for something not so innocent either. 

“i think you like it this way,” comes your response as you stand on your tiptoes, meeting kirishima halfway— giving him the space to back off or to swoop down and take what he wants. 

“yeah,” eijirou breathes while his eyes flutter shut, long lashes brushing against his cheeks and in that moment— he’s close enough to have his nose nudge yours. “i do.” he takes off his hat, a hand resting on his chest as he leans down to press his lips against yours— not moving until he feels you fall into him, reciprocating with a tenderness that has you melting like butter in a pan even in the coolness of the night. your arms reach up to wrap around his thick neck as his finds your waist, tangling in the tiny carmine curls at its base while you pour unspoken words and thankfulness into the sweet smooch. 

“i should go…don’t know what i’ll do if i don’t hold back so…goodnight,” he murmurs your name in pillowy hushed tones as he pulls away— barely wanting to let you go in favour of filling his lungs with oxygen again. “sleep well, kay?” 

“k-kay, g-goodnight!” you sway in place, waving kirishima off with a dreamy smile before unlocking the door, rushing in and slamming it shut behind you. 

there’s a tremble to your fingers as you touch your kiss-swollen lips, a squeal erupting from your throat shortly after. 

you hated this place, everything about it. 

except for maybe one person, who’s maybe made your trip to whiteridge worth it, after all. 

‘my life fucking sucks…’ 

the cursor flashes on the page of your google doc teasingly— taunting you to add to the four existing words meant to be the catalyst of your origin story.  the crème de la crème of your life. the piece de resistance. your god awful fucking autobiography. your brows knit together, meeting like two bristled and angry caterpillars in the centre of your forehead as you stare at the near naked document. the words don’t feel right on the page, nothing like anything you’ve ever written before and you struggle to write more. 

because this doesn’t feel like you.

yes, this is meant to be a book on your life— a dedication to how you got where you are, an ode to everything you’ve ever made but… it’s not you. you’re used to building worlds from nothing but the eightieth song on your favourite playlist and three minutes of the best music you’ve ever heard. you’re familiar with designing a character based on the colour gradients in the sky that afternoon and garnering their personalities from interactions you’d seen in coffee shops or on trains throughout your week. what you were born to write is fiction, cultivating your own escape from your memories— a solace, somewhere else to breathe and exist away from real life and world issues.

writing about yourself feels like a grotesque science project, or learning about punnett squares in your tenth grade biology class. it’s like writing an essay on a concept you can’t quite wrap your brain around no matter how many sources you read into. you’re forced to analyse every little detail you spent smoothing over in your adolescence, synthesising a new skin for yourself to live in, pretending your trauma wasn’t really there. 

pressing the backspace button your laptop’s keyboard, you delete the words and pull back from the screen to crack your knuckles— holding your interlinked fingers high above your head to stretch the lethargic muscles in your back. you’d been sitting at the desk in your mother's master bedroom for hours at this point— waiting for words that never come, anticipating a bigbang of inspiration to hit you until your words hit the page. you wonder if this is how the higher power felt before they created the universe, if they sat in silence, annoyance and confusion. just…waiting.

your fingertips coast over the keyboard again, typing out another sentence to start your story with.

‘my life really fucking sucks…’ 

did adding that extra curse word help? does starting it off like that come off as too ungrateful? you have everything, you muse, a life people only dream of having. money in your account, the number never falling too low— healthcare, basically free of charge, a secure job with rich foods to fill your stomach and all the fans where you could only ever wish to meet them all in person. that’s how your readers would perceive you, at least.

in reality, you’re bitter and lonely— you have no family, you’re too scarred from your past to make new friends and all you really have is yourself. and your publicist, mina, but she’d been pissing you off with pestering you about this book. 

maybe you could be vulnerable here, use the solitude of your adulthood as material for your book. your mind starts to drift with fresh new ideas printed into some lobe of your brain until you land on a certain someone from the other night. a warm glow in your current state of gloom. kirishima…he could still be your friend. after all, you’d made a connection when you’d reunited at your mother’s funeral and his number was right there in your phone. for repairs, of course, but it was still there…

no. you shake your head, trying to realign your focus with the task and craft at hand— you could go back to your roots and do an internet search for sentence starters, a ‘how to a start book for dummies’ might help you out, too. however, the goddess of higher power seems to be messing with you, for when you click on your internet browser, you’re met with the foul message that the wifi in your mom’s house has completely gone out. 

you’re so fucking lucky google docs is able to work offline— otherwise you’re sure you would have lost what little progress you’d made on the start of your book. that surely would have ruined your morning. it does appear, in spite of it all, that having no wifi gives you an excuse to take a break from your work and from mina’s nagging to call a certain hunky and red-haired repairman for assistance. 

at least fate is on your side— sort of… she has a funny way of toying with you. for now, you take it as a positive sign and shake off your frustration, reaching for your phone to make the call.

“kirishima repair service, where your repairs make us riot!” 

eijirou picks up your call before you can even hit the first dial tone— he’d been eager, drinking up your words like a cool glass of water on a hot summer’s day as you complained to him about the wifi, the creaky floorboards in the bathroom that freaked you out last night and the mysterious drip in the hallway connecting the living room to the kitchen. you’d been lodged up in the house since the funeral, no point in spending money on a hotel when you’d need to oversee the work on your mother’s old place anyways— sorting through her belongs for sale or storage while you worked on your book.

and, you hadn’t thought much of it at the time, one casual comment about the god-forsaken house slipping out after another and the redhead hadn’t even protested. ‘i’ll be right over,’ he said, so proud you could hear the smile in his voice from over the crackles of the line. ‘i was plannin’ to start today anyway. wanted to see your face too…’ 

“hmm, that’s cute.” 

giggling and hiding your smile, you hold open the door wide enough for eijirou to slip past you— trying not to dwell on his size as he ducks his head to enter your childhood home, ridding yourself of any inappropriate thought. like how he nearly had you pinned against the door the other night, with the vague confirmation that he was thinking about fucking you right then and there. 

“will you be needing anything, ei? i, uh, found some tools and the instructions for the router back in the kitchen…” you mumble, planning an escape route from the bulking man and your thirsty thoughts as he practically dwarfs everything in the house. 

kirishima looks at you once, his inquisitive and bright eyes having swept over the interior— as if he was trying to match the look of the house to his memory. it’d been a while since either of you had been here together. “oh! nah. got everythin’ i need right here, darlin’,” he says, gaze still set on your face and neither of you making a move. right…where? did he mean you? were you everything he needed? after a beat of awkward silence he coughs, probably having realised his words and lifts his toolbox sheepishly— cheeks a shade darker than his hair. “i-i mean in here, the toolbox.” 

“right…um should i point you to the—?” 

“the wifi router? please.”

“don’t sound so desperate to get away from me eiji, it’ll make me feel bad.” 

“‘m not!” he defends quickly, letting you guide him to the living room and to a high rustic bookshelf where the point of internet connection sits. the device is too high up for you to reach, but kirishima swipes it down with ease— avoiding eye contact with you as he inspects the red lights indicating a bad signal. “s’just…yer lookin’ at me in ways that’ll make me forget that ‘m here to work. and i need to focus, sweetheart.” 

oh.

so he had been thinking about the other night too. 

grinning slyly, you cross your arms over your chest— avoiding the heat bubbling under your skin when your repair man’s gaze drops down to follow your movement. “i’ll leave you to work then, eijirou. wouldn’t want to distract you from your hard work,” you coo, cocking your head to the side in satisfaction when his whole body stutters— the wifi router slipping from his grip before you catch it and pass it to him, getting a little too close. “call me if you need me, i’ll be across the hall, working on my book.” 

“i-i will. if i need you. f-for the wifi! i’ll probably need’ya to check if the connection works once i reset everythin’—“ he stumbles over his words, not quite saying what he means, not quite knowing what he means, if you’re even talking about the repairs anymore. “yanno what? i’ll just start workin’ now.” 

he’s so cute, so easily riled up just like you remember from back in the day. with one last pinch to his bulging bicep, you skip back to the kitchen to try and get started on your dreadful own task at hand. 

“good luck, cowboy.” 

about an hour and a half later, eijirou politely ( disrespectfully ) disrupts your bubble of failed creativity by clearing his throat, an apologetic expression plastered across his face before he hesitantly steps into the kitchen. you glance up from your laptop and from where you sit at the rustic, hand carved wooden dining table in the centre of the room— blinking twice to stop your eyes from bulging out of their place in your skull when they finally land on kirishima. 

“any luck?” you whisper, breathing deep through your nose as he approaches the table in short strides— the scent of pine and his own musk filling the air. 

“not an ounce,” kirishima huffs, clearly annoyed and you can tell by the adorable pout spread across the shine on his lips. “damn router won’t connect for more than fifteen minutes! can’t freakin’ figure the thing out!"

the red head’s shoulders slouch as he takes a seat at the table with you, squeezing himself into one of the chairs he used to have to climb into when he was little. letting out a fond laugh, you put your hand on top of his and give it a comforting squeeze— not wanting eijirou to be too annoyed with himself. “if it helps i’ve not made much progress either,” you gesture to the chicken scratch notes you’ve resorted to taking on the various sheets of paper, scattered across the table. “i can’t seem to figure out how to start this book. it’s killing me.” 

this time it’s eijirou who gives your hand a soft squeeze, flipping his palm to lace your fingers together— you try not to dwell on how thick and rough they are. “‘m sure you’ll get it,” he whispers to you, a dopey look on his face— pride, for you, dancing in his ruby gem eyes. “yer amazing at what you do…” 

“thanks eiji,” you chirp at his praise, bristling with happiness. “you always know what to say, huh?” 

“of course, i’ll never stop tellin’ you how proud i am of you fer gettin’ outta this place. makin’ a name for yourself.” he goes on, rambling earnestly with excited dips and dives sprinkled throughout his voice. “how about this? i needa go into town to get you a new router, so after that, we can grab some grub at that old diner ‘n maybe take our frustrations out on that? my treat.” 

your stomach rumbles at the thought— hunger sneaking up on you like a big cat on its prey.

“y-yeah, that sounds great!” 

“one black coffee for the ‘lil lady, and one super sweet hot chocolate supreme with extra whipped cream ‘n marshmallows for you, baby.” 

you try to ignore the trill of displeasure that runs through you as the waitress places your drinks on the table— leaning in real close to eijirou as she passes him his hot cocoa. he’s too distracted to notice her blatant flirting, like a child on christmas as soon as he’s got his sickly sweet beverage in front of him. but you do. she was cute, definitely from around here and pretty as a picture too— she’d make a cute little wife, and if he wanted, she could give eijirou as many kids as he damn well pleased. 

you sit across from him as you stir a teaspoon of sugar or two into your coffee—bitter, tired but still mysteriously sexy so at least you had that going for you and eijirou kirishima would be a fool to pass you up for some hillbilly bit—

“black coffee? is that seriously all ya want to drink?” he cuts off your trail of thought, staring straight past the waitress and right at you— as if you’re the only person in the room. 

smiling to yourself when the waitress scurries away, you circle the spoon around your mug— watching the white sugar crystals dissolve into the dark, piping hot  liquid. “as black as my soul,” you joke, eyes darting up just in time to watch kirishima snort his whipped cream. “what’s so funny, ‘shima?”

“your humour was never this…dark when we’re kids.” he chuckles in response, nose scrunched and eyes bright. 

you take a sip, hiding behind the rim of your cup. “being a writer does that to you.” as does being abandoned by your mom, losing your brother.

kirishima quickly senses the dip in mood and overs you a tender smile, resting his hand atop yours just like in the kitchen back home and rubbing his thumb over the backs of your knuckles. “so…this book yer workin’ on?” he pokes the bear, running back to sip on his cocoa when you playfully scowl at him.

“i said no spoilers, eiji!” 

“c’mon, just one? i am treating you to breakfast — at least tell me what it’s about.”

you can’t resist when he begs like that, like a big puppy awaiting his treats— so you reply, hesitant words clinging to the steam rising from your coffee. “it’s…” you start. “it’s about my life?”

“and you’re struggling to write that?” kirishima quips incredulously, whipped cream tainting the cupid’s bow of his full lips.

body flushing with embarrassment, your lips turn into a frown. “h-hey! it’s a lot harder than it looks!”

pulling his hand from yours to wave the pair of them about, eijirou is quick to apologise— nearly knocking over your drinks in the process. “n-no! i just mean—“ the words die on his sugar-coated lips as he flounders for the right thing to say, to articulate himself properly. “i-i mean yeah, what would i know?” he speaks quieter now, looking down at his lap while his jubilant actions calm, and you cock your head to the side— curious to pick his brain for an explanation as you prompt him with a tiny ‘go on…’ “like, i dunno, i dropped outta school but…you’re interestin’, ya always have been! a-at least to me…so i figured… you’d have a whole lot t’talk about.”

you’re the one who turns bashful after that, picking at the sleeves of the random sweater you’d thrown on, discovering it at the bottom of your suitcase. your gaze wonders to the wet and frosted windows of the diner noticing the chipped paint on its panes and the walls now coated in an inviting shade of yellow— different from the colours you remember from coming here as a child on saturday mornings. there was never any consideration for how other people perceived you when it came to yourself.

you had to learn fast and hard that society didn’t take kindly to children who didn’t meet the norms, whose families were a little twisted with tragedy like yours. almost everyone you knew growing up had turned on you as soon as your brother lost his life, same as when your mother started to lose herself, too. 

it never occurred to you— that someone outside of the damaging thoughts plaguing your mind would care for your story, would care about you and the little details that make up your DNA. perhaps your readers would take interest in how you and izuku would play hopscotch on the way to school, how you preferred wearing your tie loose on your neck or not at all because you didn’t like to feel too constricted, how you liked your eggs fried until their edges were a little black in your bentos or how you would trade them with the kids in the playground before it all came crashing down. 

before the accident.

and maybe, your readers would take comfort in the girl the accident forced you to become. the one who kept her head down, got the grades she needed and fucked right out of town. the one who got lost in the city and published story after story in smaller anthologies until she got her big break— until someone noticed the passion she’d penned onto paper. until someone saw her for more than just her mother, and her brother and her harrowing past. 

until someone finally saw you. 

but someone had been seeing you all this time, rooting for you from here. from home. and he was sitting right in front of you. 

“i didn’t think—” you pause, looking back at the rugged man before you. “i never knew you saw me…t-that way! that way. i never knew you saw me that way.” 

kirishima hums content, an expression of wistfulness taking residence on his face. 

“i don’t think you ever really noticed how i saw you.”

you open your mouth to speak— dying to know what eijirou means, but the waitress from earlier returns with the steaming hot plates of breakfast you both had ordered with the red haired repairman quick to steal a bite from yours. he forks his way through half of the omelette on your plate in favour of scraping it onto his own, giving you a wolfish grin as he downs a bite in mere seconds. 

the whole ordeal makes you forget what you were planning to say. “hey! i was gonna eat that!”

“oh yeah? but’cha never finished your plate back when we were kids.” he taunts, daring to swipe more food from you. 

“that’s ‘cause you always ate what was on it before i got the chance!” you squeak back through your laughter, blocking his fork with your own.

after breakfast at the diner, the rest of your day is spent pressed right up to eijirou’s side as he guides you around whiteridge’s town centre. he’d fought you over the bill, let you stand on your tiptoes to ruffle his mane when you paid a tip worth greater than the bill as he pouted on the way out too. his fingers graze yours along the way, not too far out of reach but enough to remind you that he’s there— walking with you through the memories that you relive.

he points out the tuck shops you would sneak into after class. he forces you to press your nose against the glass with him watching the bakery put out fresh loaves of milk bread and tucks his hat over your ears when the breeze starts to pick up, sending ice chills down your spine. 

kirishima is unbelievably warm and it’s intoxicating, his joyous spirit floods through your dark memories of whiteridge with hues of soft pinks— removing the taint of loneliness from your childhood. he’ll kiss your knuckles after every spot you visit— good and bad, reminding you that he’s there with every step you take through the town that left you to rot when you were too young to defend yourself. 

kirishima is there, kirishima will always be there and he’ll always choose you. and you remind yourself not to take his comforting presence in your life for granted from now on. 

you both fly back almost ten years when you stumble upon the playground you used to frequent as little ones. like children, you race to the rusted and red painted swing set— slipping on the ice, with your cheeks bitten raw by the cold as it shows in each puffed out breath you take. it makes you feel alive, makes you feel the blood pumping hotly through your veins again.

there are mothers with their infants that look down on you both, but neither of you can think to care, too wrapped up in the happy bubble of nostalgia that shelters you both from the cruel world. of course, eijirou beats you to it, claiming the last remaining swing and sitting on it with all his weight— nearly pulling the damn thing from its old and worn out chains.

“push me, darlin’,” eijirou demands jocosely, his big hands gripping the chains— his crimson eyes rioting and roaring with a teasing glint as he looks up at you. flirts with you. “or yer chicken.” 

rolling your eyes, you stand in front of him. “you think i can’t, red?” placing your hands over his on the chain and muster all your strength to start swinging him back and forth, the heels of your boots crunching against the frosted tarmac beneath them. “you’ve gotten bolder while i’ve been away! what’s gotten into you?” you goad him, picking up momentum while you both sway with the swing. “did you look up flirting tips after that girl… who was it? nejire from two grades above found out you had a crush on her in middle school—“ 

“you still don’t get it,” he says. the swinging comes to a dramatic halt, kirishima forcefully digging his boots into the rubber flooring below to stop you both— his grip on the chains dropping to cling to your waist, dragging you to stand between his wide spread legs. “do you?” 

“e-eijirou—?” 

your words die with the gust of wind that blows over you both and you can’t tell if you’re shivering because of how cool it is or because of kirishima’s warmth as it spreads through you like a flame taking over kindling— his lips ghosting over yours, pressing a feather light kiss to them as if to test the waters. when you tilt your head to meet him at a better angle, the redhead knows it’s safe to continue— deepening his actions, gliding his tongue against the seam of your lips as though to ask permission for more before you let him.

the kiss is a little rougher than you’ve felt with him before, contradicting with his gentlemanly nature— not that you mind, feeling all the emotions he pours into it. 

“meant what i said, yanno,” kirishima breathes into your mouth after you pull apart, eyes half lidded and his hold on you still tight— as if he doesn’t want you to slip away. “ya never noticed the way i looked at you. how much i liked ya. even now, there’s been no one else since you left.”

“eiji…” you gasp, wordless for the moment but he presses on, brushing a thumb over your cheek. 

warm, unlike the weather.

“i’m not asking for all of you now…or for you to magically have feelings for me. i can wait, i’ve had to for this long anyways.” he adds with a smile, one so soft compared to how he just kissed you— sending you reeling and making your heart a rapid beating mess. “no pressure or anything, we can make this whatever you want it to be.” 

“a-and what if…what if i want you by my side?” 

“then i’ll be here.” 

“for how long?” 

“as long as you’ll have me.” 

you fist kirishima’s jacket under your grip and steady yourself— blinking back tears of appreciation before they fall, letting kirishima thumb them away when they do. “that’ll be a while red, i hope you know that.” you huff, holding onto him so that he doesn’t let you go.

kirishima only wraps the entirety of his arm around your waist— keeping you close as he says. “i know, i’ll make that time worth your while,” he presses a small smooch to your midriff, looking up at you with those same rioting and lovesick red eyes and speaking again. “let’s get’cha back home ‘n set that wifi up, yeah? i think me kissin’ you in front of all those mommas has them a little spooked ‘n to be honest, ‘m barely holdin’ myself back here.” 

“you’re insatiable, red.” you swat at his chest, stepping back so he can tower over you once again. 

“and who’s to blame for that?” kirishima pinches your side back all while taking your hand to lead you out of the park and back to the bustling square of whiteridge.

‘me.’ you think giddily and your heart settles in its place, soothed by eijirou’s heavy hand in yours.

for once you’re happy to take the blame for this one.

there’s a car you don’t recognise in your driveway when you get back— blocking kirishima’s truck from parking up next to your own vehicle. 

“do y’know whose car that is? were you expecting guests?”

raising a brow, you peer up at kirishima who sits confused behind the wheel. “you’re the only person i like in this town and all of my family is dead. of course i’m not expecting guests.” you deadpan, but raise your hands in defence when the repairman glares down at you. “i kid! i kid!” 

“not funny, darlin’,” he grunts and sets the car into park, making sure she’s steady before opening the door on the driver’s side. “stay here, ‘m gonna check it out. robberies aren’t that common here but i don’t wanna risk it.” risk you.

with your face scrunching up, your actions follow the same path as your red haired companion and you unbuckle your seatbelt swiftly to jump out of the truck. “you’re not leaving me here! what if mineta’s lurking around, waiting to get me alone!” you huff, boots crunching on the ice below as you follow kirishima’s tacks up towards your mother’s house and current place of residence. 

“neither of those jokes were funny, stop makin’ fun of yer trauma, kay?” he scolds you gently, casting his gaze over his shoulder to check on you. only when eijirou‘s back is turned again, do you mimic and mock him a little before slipping your hand into his— noticing he was holding it out for you from behind. you hear the porch creek up above, breath hitching as kirishima yells at the intruder. “hey! don’cha know that this is private property— you can’t be here!” 

“calm yer tits shitty hair, ‘m just here to get my stuff. i ain’t botherin’ no one.” a rough voice responds, sending a wave of familiarity through you. “b’sides, i got. a fuckin’. key.” the last sentence is punctuated with pockets of a condescending tone— causing light bulb memories to flash through your mind and back to the night at the bar.

“bakugou?”

stepping out from behind the mountain that is eijirou kirishima, you reveal yourself to another set of red eyes— watching as recognition flood’s the blonde’s features and smooths over the crease between his knitted brows. “well, well, well. who do we fuckin’ have here…” bakugou rasps, his signature smirk tugging the corners of his lips upwards as he gives you the once over. “how ya doin’, sweetheart? mind gettin’ this big red oaf off my back?” 

“oaf? sweetheart, do you two know each other?” kirishima grunts defensively, squaring himself in front of you as if to protect you from katsuki’s leering gaze.

“know each other?” bakugou interjects before you can, smirk only widening. “we slept together, shitty hair. couple days ago, weren’t it, baby? she took me real fuckin’ good—“ 

“now hold on a second!” 

“are we lyin’ now, bakugou? doesn’t the town hate you enough for that already?” 

“e-eiji! that’s not nice—“ 

“you don’t know shit, fuckface.” 

“oh, i know all about whiteridge’s shitty little recluse—“ 

growing more irritated and embarrassed by the boys’ back and forth arguing— you reach into bakugou’s car through the window ( as it’s still running and open ) and press down on the horn until it shocks them both out of their bickering. “that’s enough!” you growl, eyes shooting between them angrily as you take turns pointing fingers at them. “kirishima, backdown. you’re not my guard dog…and bakugou! what the fuck are you doing here? is your name really even bakugou?” 

both the blonde and the redhead settle for a second. “it is, i am katsuki bakugou.” bakugou shifts on your front porch and lifts a box up high for you to see, once that you didn’t notice before. “used to live here, helped ya ma out since she looked after me durin’ a rough time…after ya skipped town ‘n stuff.” he explains simply, wincing when you let out a quiet gasp that’s slightly visible in the cold air. “just came t’get the last of my shit. couldn’t bring myself to tell ya before…and it wasn’t appropriate at the funeral. ‘m sorry for that.” 

“you…knew my mom?” you frown, clutching onto kirishima who stays as still as stone, watching the exchange. 

“yeah…she wasn’t as crazy as ya made out to be at the bar, yanno.” the blonde smiles sad, yet wistfully, passing by both you and eijirou to get to his car.

kirishima barks from beside you, tracking bakugou’s movements like he’s defending his territory. “don’t you think it’s rude to speak ill of the dead?”

“don’t you know that i ain’t fuckin’ talkin’ to you?”

“boys,” you warn again before turning to katsuki to give him your name. your real one, with the midoriya last name and all, and it brings you comfort when he doesn’t immediately point it out or apologise for your loss like everyone else. “thanks for stopping by bakugou, and thank you for that night, i guess?” 

he nods, slipping into his vehicle with the box now in the passenger’s seat— the rest stashed away safely in his trunk. “anytime, princess,” he coos, revving up his engine to drive away and around eijirou’s truck— only reminding you even more of the explicit night that you both shared before your mother’s funeral.

you watch him go with the redhead as your company, jumping out of your skin when he speaks to you, roughly. “y’should head up to the house. i’ll get the new wifi router from the truck ‘n set up for you.” 

“do you need any help again?” 

“no need. i got this.” 

just like he said, eijirou handles everything on his own— fixing your wifi and setting it up with speed. except, he’s icy the whole time, rejecting your advances, meaner and slightly ruder than before as he works until he doesn’t anymore. gone is the soft, warm and comforting heat of eijirou kirishima from earlier, where he kissed you and practically begged you for a chance. you can only assume it has something to do with your hook up and encounter with bakugou… but that was before and it’s not like your sex life was any of his business. 

kirishima rushes off before tending to any other repairs to the house— grumbling something about coming back in a few days time as he slams the door shut behind him, leaving you to fester in silence once more. men are fuckin’ weird, you decide.

with no inspiration left in the tank and you feeling a little butt-hurt from the boys— you take solace in exploring your old house and the memories that dance within it’s creaking walls. pictures line the pathway up the staircase to your childhood or teenage bedroom, and you can’t help but stop to look at framed and dusty photographs of you and your brother throughout your early years. all toothless and gappy smiles.

a particular one catches your attention— a snap of both you and izuku decked out in swimmer’s gear, juice stains from red popsicles smeared along your chubby cheeks and orange against izuku’s freckled ones. you remember it being taken on a summer’s day before you ventured into the woods to swim about in the streams so you could cool off. 

lifting the frame from the wall, you blow off the dirt, thumbing your older brother’s youthful face— missing him, hurting for him and pressing the trinket close to your chest as if to hold him for one last time. you squeeze a little too tight, jumping back as paper slips from behind the frame and onto the wooden steps with a light thud. 

“what the—?” you muse to yourself, hanging the portrait back on its nail before carefully scooping up the sheets of paper.

the notes, with your mother’s writing on them. 

a photo of deku, katsuki and eijirou all together. 

‘they know something.’ one reads. ‘the boys, izuku’s friends.’ says another. 

a chill runs down your spine, your body not liking the ominous wording or the idea that you’re reading a dead woman’s thoughts. a million questions race through your mind all at once while you dart up the stairs and to your room, snapping pictures of the notes just in case— sending them to your laptop. just in case.

they were hidden for a reason, tucked behind one of your happiest memories in hopes that you’d…find them? perhaps? you can’t figure out for the life of you what they mean, why your mother wrote them or her motive to have tucked them away…but what you do know, is that something doesn’t feel right about them. that something tells you that she might have been right about izuku‘s death being somewhat suspicious.

you can’t help but dwell on the thought, even up until you’re tucked into bed, an idea for the startling line of your book coming to you once you finally manage to drift off. 

‘my life, is a complete and utter fucking mystery. and you’re going to help me solve it…’

apparently, being simultaneously ghosted and pissed off makes you write a whole lot faster.

it’s been a few days since the stand-off outside your house between the two men you’ve somehow gotten yourself involved with— resulting in you getting ghosted by both of them. bakugou, mostly because you don’t have his number. and kirishima? well he’s just been a prick. since beginning his work on the house he’s probably said all but twenty words to you— clearly still riled up by the fact that you’ve slept with someone else.

fuelled by your annoyance at the two, you’d managed to make a breakthrough on your book and kept yourself hauled up in your mom’s old room, writing away while staying to oversee repairs on the house for a little while longer. it’d been at least two weeks since everything went down.

silence and the sound of your fingertips married to your keyboard have been your only friends since eijirou started to ignore you— not that you mind, they were great company growing up too. with more than three pages filled with the intricate details of your early life, your birth, your first crawl and then your first walk, you decide to take a break from your work before delving deeper and head for a piping hot shower.

the water soothes your tense muscles, washes away the fear and anxiety you’ve felt since discovering your mother’s notes and trying to figure out what they mean. lathering up, you scrub at your skin until you feel clean of any discomfort and mystery clinging to it before the water suddenly runs cold— acting as a shockwave that runs through your system.

it forces you to begrudgingly send a text to eijirou, asking him to fix the shower while you work and he sends a quick, disinterested reply of ‘sure.’ as you towel yourself dry for his arrival. he’d wanted to do some repairs to the house anyway.

you’re lucky that the house is warm, waltzing around in nothing but an oversized shirt and fuzzy winter socks by the time kirishima pulls up in your driveway— a hot mug of coffee and milk between your fingertips when you open up for him. “coffee?” you ask him politely as if the redhead is a stranger, closing the door behind him as he kicks the ice from his boots and sets his toolbox down. 

“is it black?” 

“no.” 

“then yeah, i’ll have one.” 

he’s still being cold, a bit of an ass— but perhaps you can’t really blame him. literal minutes before bakugou had shown up on your doorstep, he’d been asking for a part of you. telling you that he’d wait for you and you’d agreed after many years of being apart. kirishima had a right to be mad, but you were, too— nobody ghosted you. in the kitchen, you brew and sweeten up his coffee, setting it on the counter above his head as he works on the water source in the cupboard beneath the kitchen sink, tools splayed out beside him. 

now, as you write at the dining table, you’re accompanied by an awkward silence, clanking tools and your fingers on the keys. every now and again, red eyes stray over to your bare thighs squeezed together ( from sneaking peeks at the way the burly redhead’s arms bulge with every twist of the water pipe with his wrench or whatever the hell it is ). tension layers itself thickly in the air, and you know eijirou’s been holding himself back when it comes to you, so you take this opportunity to try and get him to talk to you. to get the answers you need about the notes you found the other night.

“hey kirishima?” you call out to him as he stands up to finish off his hot drink, closing your laptop. 

“hmm?”

“uh…” you pause, gnawing nervously on your lower lip. if you ask him now, there’s no telling how kirishima will respond, you’re not on speaking terms and as far as he knows, he doesn’t owe you anything. just like you don’t owe him an explanation on bakugou— who he doesn’t seem to like very much. “were you…you and bakugou, friends?” 

kirishima stiffens— gaze shooting up from your thighs to your face, as if to read it. “why you askin’, dollface?”

“my mom,” you start, fisting the hem of your shirt between your fingers and fiddling with a loose thread. “i found some photos of hers, of the two of you with izuku…some notes too. it just got me thinking…maybe she was right about the accident and something happened, and i just want to know if you truly know anything about what happened to him.” 

the red-haired repairman shakes his head slow at first, picking up in velocity as if he’s denying any thought that comes to mind— turning away from you to get back to fixing your water. “i’ll tell you what i told y’mom ‘n the police at the time. i don’t know anythin’ much about what happened to midoriya,” he huffs simply, grunting with exertion. “and look, midoriya, you and i were good childhood friends and … i’ve no idea why bakugou was hanging around us or in the photo from back then. so, maybe…just drop it?” 

your face scrunches up sourly at his words, anger flashing through you. “drop it?” you snap— tone so harsh that both you and kirishima jump out of your skin. “eijirou, this is my family…i never understood what my mother meant as a kid. i didn’t get her pain or why she suddenly turned on me, but i feel like this is a sign, her way of reaching out to me after she—“ 

“after she what? died? you didn’t even care up until now! and now ya wanna go diggin’ through skeletons in the closet because of some…some note? blaming me?”

“that's not fair, eijirou! and that’s not what i’m saying!” 

he dares to bite— baring his fangs at you like you do with him. “oh? so what are you sayin’?”

“that maybe there’s some truth to what my mom believed. that something really did happen to my brother…to izuku. to your friend.”  you fight back, standing from your seat so fast that it flies back and hits the floor with a loud clang. “why else would she have hidden the clues, the pictures in the house?”

“why are you even lookin’ into this shit now?” 

silence. 

kirishima folds his arms over his chest, breathing heavy from all the yelling before he prompts you again. “why are you doin’ all this?” he asks, nursing your name bitterly. 

“for my book.” you state, quieter and shamefully. 

watching eijirou’s face morph from an expression of confusion to one of hurt, and shock, and betrayal makes you feel sick to your stomach— knowing that you caused it. “yer fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” he slurs angrily, brows furrowed and meeting in the centre of his forehead. “seriously? your brother died. and you’re diggin’ into his past, his death for some fuckin’ clout?” 

“eijirou it’s not like that—“ 

“don’t you ‘eijirou’ me!” this time, the redhead roars so loud it makes you cower back— surprised that he would ever direct such a tone towards you. “yer not the only person who lost a brother. yer not the only person who fuckin’ grieved. stop sticking your nose in places they shouldn’t be and let izuku rest! do yourself a favour and quit while you’re ahead b’fore you end up goin’ crazy just like your ma—“ 

the world around you shatters like glass as eijirou hits you where he knows it’ll hurt the most. it’s like he knew exactly what cells and nerves of yours to target in order to cause you the most pain. before you go crazy, like your mother. the one thing you couldn’t possibly stand in this world, would be to end up exactly like her. to have driven away everyone, to be perceived as a freak who just couldn’t let her loved one rest in peace. you didn’t want that for izuku, and hell, eijirou was right. you didn’t want that for her either, in a way. 

still, it doesn’t make his words ache any less— tears stinging at your eyes like acid or poison before you can even stop them, letting them fill the silence echoing between you both. 

“fuck,” kirishima abandons his tools faster than the speed of light, brushing a hand through his red mane before striding over to you— lifting you to sit on the kitchen label and pulling you into his plush chest since you’re too numb to resist him. “‘m sorry, i— i shouldn’ta said that to ya.” his forehead presses against yours, his large hands parting your thighs to stand between them as he rubs circles into the swell of them— doing anything he can to bring you back down to him, to soothe your quiet sobbing. “‘m so fuckin’ sorry darlin’, dunno what came over me. what i was thinkin’. that was an asshole move from me.” 

he goes on, mumbling apologies over and over again— but you’re numb to them all, eyes glazed over and mind blank…because maybe it’s true. maybe eijirou is right and you really should just leave it all alone. 

you let him kiss you softly, a few times, gentle pecks against your lips until they’re brushed with unspoken forgiveness. because it feels nice to have him close again, to not be ignored by the only person in this shitty world who might, still actually give a fuck about you. 

“‘m so sorry,” kirishima says when you finally make an effort to kiss him back, angling your head just right for him to lick at your lips— tasting the coffee on them. 

you shake your head, letting your fingers tangle in his luscious mane— gripping him as he calms your frenzied mind. clears it of any thought. “it’s okay, kirishima, it’s okay.” you offer in comfort, even though he should be the one comforting you.

you let kirishima stay the night after he fixes up the water and a few other things— with it being too dark and the colder weather starting to pick up a little bit more now that the temperatures have dropped below zero. he orders takeout, on him, from a quaint little business owned by someone else you went to school with— someone who went by the name sato.

it almost freaks you out how tenderly he treats you after damn near tearing your head off earlier— spoon feeding you, keeping you tucked into his toned and blisteringly hot side while you watch silly cartoons to fill the space as you finish off your writing for the day. neither of you speak about the argument, nor dare to bring it up in fear of setting one another off again but you can’t seem to shake the suspicion feeling— debating whether or not kirishima has something to hide.

you have a moment to breathe when he asks to wash up before bed, and you agree, offering to make you both a warm cocoa so you can settle down for the night. though, when you return, you don’t expect to see eijirou hunched over your open laptop at your desk— seemingly clicking through files even though he’s fresh out of the shower, red hair dripping about the place and broad, bare and golden shoulders decorated with crystalline droplets of water, a pair of cotton sweatpants hanging low around his waist. 

“what are you doing?” you ask hoarsely, using your voice properly for what feels like the first time in hours. 

spinning around in his seat, eijirou looks at you with an expression that reads ‘a deer caught in headlights’, quickly clicking out of whatever he was obviously snooping in. “oh um— i was lookin’ f’some music, somethin’ romantic so i could set the mood for tonight,” he turns back to your laptop and pulls up the draft for the intro to your book, reading over it proudly as you walk up behind him and set the mugs of cocoa to the side. “then i came across this, and i know you said no spoilers but… s’really good. i like it, pays homage to izuku.” 

kirishima lies smoothly, to the point where you almost believe what he’s saying— but a quick glance at your files from over his shoulder tells him he’d been looking through the notes and photos your mother had hidden, the ones you’d sent to yourself. “please don’t go through my stuff, eiji. it’s private,” you murmur, realising that only one of the files is missing, and you shoo eijirou out of his seat at the desk to recover it and password lock the data.

“s-sorry,” he seems apologetic, holding his hands up as a sign of retreat as you stand to face him once again. “i didn’t know you were that serious ‘bout that stuff, wouldn’t have looked if i had known.” you almost hate how timbre and hypnotic kirishima’s voice is— feeling as though you can’t be mad at or irritated with him for long; like he knows just what to say to get your mind to do a clean sweep and forget any wrongs he might have done. it’s hard to put your walls up around him, shut him out when he’s so inviting— cautiously taking you into his arms, his lips finding your neck to place calculated smooches along the path of it. 

feather light, barely there as if the kisses never existed in the first place. 

“i-i told you,” you reply, holding your breath— depriving your brain of the oxygen it needs to be able to think properly. “no spoilers, eijirou.” 

his sharpened teeth come into play next, just barely puncturing your skin with little marks and bites between ever growing sloppy kisses, his spit leaving a warm shine against your throat. “alright, alright, no more spoilers,” he whines against your neck, heated breath coasting along your skin until it rises with goosebumps. “just…didn’t think that y’cared about yer past that much.”

writhing in his hold and letting eijirou push you back to lean against the desk, you whine back— sounding needier than he did. “i don’t… i just got curious.” you let your counter argument slip away from you as kirishima sucks a mark just under the shell of your ear, humming at your speeding pulse beneath his lips. 

he uses a knee to nudge your legs apart, both of you growing more desperate— hungrier, the red haired repairman lifting you to sit on the edge of the table by the waist. “thought we weren’t supposed to talk about it, though,” he keeps going, teasing you and taunting you— picking you apart under his touch as eijirou’s fingertips ghost up your shirt to massage the swell of your thighs. 

your breath hitches, lips parting in a quiet moan at every squeeze of your flesh— your own fingers curling in a sea of ruby locks. “eijirou…please,” you plead with him— wanting to hear anything but talk of your book, wanting to hear your name coat the inside of his mouth. you buck your hips up into nothing, using your grip on his hair to tug kirishima close enough for some friction, grinding your clothed cunt against his girth showing through his sweatpants. 

“please, what, darlin’?” his words hang between a set of shark sharp teeth— ones that leave bruising marks against your skin while his hips follow your movements, pushing back and forth against your panties for some relief too. “what? y’want me to fuck you, is that it? that why you’re grinding this cute cunt against my—fuck— cock?” kirishima soothes what he bites, pink tongue peeking out between pearly whites to gloss over the inflamed areas he’s left on you, knowing that they’ll be more visible come sunrise. “say it, darlin— say you want me.” 

“i need you,” you wheeze, at a loss for words with kirishima descending from your neck, placing open mouthed kisses along your collarbones, tugging the collar of your shirt down to give the same treatment to your chest. before he can go any further, one of your hands leaves his hair to tilt his chiselled chin up to face you, a neediness taking over your tone and desire spreading through your bloodstream. “come up here, kiss me.” 

eijirou’s mouth is quick to melt against yours just as it has done many times before, his wet tongue grazing your bottom lip before forcing its way into your mouth— claiming you as his. his cheeks flame at his own boldness, while you surge forward and chase the dopamine high he gives to you every time your lips lock. your teeth sink into his bottom lip, daring the man to pull away as you drag the flesh away from him but kirishima is just as hungry for you as you are for him, hands sliding up your shirt and over your rib cage, thumbing the bare skin until you gasp— letting your tongues come together sloppily, lips slotting against one another in mismatched ways.

kirishima doesn’t stop the route of his hands under your shirt, letting them settle on the clasp of your bra before he pulls way— both of you panting for breath. 

“w-what?” you grumble, nosing his face, missing his kisses already. “is something the matter?” you’re impatient, you don’t like waiting for something you feel you deserve. kirishima had been pining after you for years, there’s no doubt in your mind that he’s imagined having you like this for several of them so you don’t understand why he pauses, ghosting his fingertips under the curve of your breast where it meets your rib cage— marvelling as you arch into him subtly.

the repairman shakes his head, a slow smile tugging on the corner of his lips, as if he knows how much he affects you— knows that your body tingles with anticipation, craving something more than a few kisses and playful touches. “yer just so pretty, darlin’, wanna take my time with you,” he drawls, finally undoing your bra and letting the nylon material fall away from your breasts and revealing them to his hungry hooded eyes. “that okay?” rough padded thumbs press into your budded nipples from under your shirt, the cotton material only serving to make them more sensitive— you can’t even think straight to answer eijirou, writhing and shaking your head from a few simple touches. “c’mon gorgeous, don’t be like that. you wanna feel good, right? lemme take care of that.” 

his voice oozes with condensation accompanied by gentle tones of adoration watching you react to him in such a way— it’s like your body knows to love him, to trust him even if your mind doesn’t and you whine out for him. “wanna feel good eijirou, i’ll do anything just—please,” 

“awh, s’fuckin’ cute,” he laughs, leaning back down to kiss you hungrily, making his goal to swallow you whole and fill you with every ounce of lust he has for you. kirishima’s mountainous frame looms over you, chest to chest as his teeth sink into your lower lip— pulling back while you desperately attempt to lick up into his mouth and suck in his devious tongue. “god, you’re so fuckin’ cute, baby, taste so good, so sweet.” spit slings between your eager mouths, drool running down your chins the messier you both become and as he gropes and pinches and tweaks at your sensitive chest, your own hands make the trek down his muscled back— the dull edge of your nails carving a red streaked patch down his flesh as well. 

your tongues dance messily with one another, a little out of sync for new lovers or the teenagers that you once were finally admitting your feelings for one another after all this time— truly proving to you that kirishima had waited. that there was no one else while you had been away, just as he’d told you earlier on. his hips rut against your arousal soaked panties, pressing against your fluttering cunt and riling him up beyond belief— both of you shudder as you practically ride his precum loaded tip, the dull head of it nudging your clit over and over again to the point where you’re scared you might cum to soon.

“eijirou,” you croak, needy and without shame— your soft hand darting between the bump and grind of your bodies to grasp at his thick, temperate shaft as it glides through the length of your cotton clad slit. “s-slow down…’m sensitive,” you breathe heavily into his mouth while both of you gasp into each other’s open mouths and share high-pitched moans, your chest rising and falling as if you’ve been running a marathon. his forehead, lightly doused with sweat, rests against yours as he pouts— leaning close to tug on your bottom lip.

his usually kind and bright ruby eyes are lust blown, the black in them nearly eclipsing the red colour. “but sweetness,” he whines, cock twitching in your hold as blood pulses through the pretty purple veins wrapped around it. “fuck, s-sweetness, ‘m barely holdin’ back here.” kirishima sounds like a broken man, more wrecked than you from only a little dry humping. his grip on your thighs tightens in anticipation, the broad and muscular man close to collapsing on top of you. 

“lemme touch you,” you whisper, voice silky smooth and sultry while you work your hand past the band of his sweats to get a better proximity to his hardness. “make you feel it,” your gentle fingers explore him, tracing over the thick veins on the underside of his length before forming a fist around the rest of him— creating the perfect sticky fleshlight for eijirou to fuck. he hisses, jutting his hips forward into your hand while the air tingles with a newfound desire to be close— to forget whatever bad blood had brewed between you both earlier on in the day.

wet, slick sounds fill the room, acting as a personalised soundtrack to jerking kirishima off. he leaks copious amounts of arousal, white and loose from his bright red tip coloured in a shade to rival his hair and eyes. his precum guides the movement of your hand despite the restriction from his waistband, slipping and sliding up and down his dick. saliva pools on the palette of your tongue as you gauge the sheer size of your childhood crush— he’s huge, swollen and fat with an oncoming orgasm, with the seed that weighs down his balls that swing with each rut of his hips.

the wild whine that resounds from deep within kirishima’s rock hard chest makes your cunt quiver, your juices darkening the crotch of your underwear. all the while, the redhead ravishes you pulling your atoms apart and putting them back together with just his touch— running from your thighs, over your hips and stopping just below your ribcage, thumbs sitting under the flesh of your breasts. “pretty girl, you’re g’nna be the death of me if ya keep jerkin’ me off like that,” he stutters out, breath condensing on spit shining top lip. it makes him throb knowing that it’s him, that did that to you— using his saliva as his claim over you. “ohhh fuck, just like that…god, i-i can’t.”

you feel a little powerful, breaking such a big and strong man down into nothing but a resolve of pathetic squeaks and hiccuped mewls. though, you fail to remember that you’re just a puppet on eijirou’s strings— he’s the master in this scenario, his large hands moving up to cup the entirety of your chest, groping them roughly as the feverishness of hips increases. without a second thought, he tweaks your nipples, brushes over them with the heat of your palm as if to make you as much of a mess as himself. levelling the playing field. 

though he’s hunched over you, kirishima falls like an angel with burning wings angel from up above and descends down on your clothed chest— ravenous teeth biting into your right sensitive and stimulated mound, hot mouth sucking on it while his free hand cruelly toys with the other. his strawberry tongue rolls languidly over your nipples, earning him those darling babyish cries from between your bruised lips and a squeeze to his dick— the sensation sending his eyes rolling far back into his skull. “d-don’t get too cocky, baby,” the redhead rasps nice and low despite his voice cracking like the slow burn of firewood. “‘m in charge r’member?” and he is, even if you pump his slick cock to your heart's content, he still dominates every corner of your mind. he still has mastery of your every waking thought, raunchy or not. kirishima owns you, whether you like it or not. 

without another word, he latches back onto you— biting and sucking at whatever he can like he’s teething, marking up your raw and covered flesh like a man starved of his last meal. you don’t dare to think of anything else, drinking up the sight of kirishima’s wet and sloppy cock in your hands instead, sure that his sweatpants are tainted with the preview of his impending high, a charcoal coloured patch forming where his clear and stringy arousal seeps through the fabric and dirties your hands with salacious sin. 

your watery eyes dart upwards to watch the man’s face, serene, pretty as he uses you…and in a way, you use him. a crutch for your emotional imbalances, a numbing drug for the pain lodged in your chest. eijirou kirishima is the visage of beauty that distracts you from the harsh, ugly reality of your daunting world— with fuzzy and contented eyes, ropes of his own drool connecting the roof of his mouth to his eager tongue and rose tinted cheeks that are coloured almost the same shade as the apple the snake offered to eve ( a perfect match ).

he’s forbidden, he’s a trap set out to get you— and you find yourself going against all the alarm bells ringing off in your head.

because you want him. you want to be wanted by him. 

“can ya do me a favour, darlin’?” eijirou shakes in your hold, crumbling as your thumb glides over the oozing slit on his tip before you circle it subtly. “think ya can make me cum? be so fuckin’ good f’me, hm?” they’re not questions, more like candy wrapped order and you follow them blindly— led head first by his alluring voice into a pool of honeyed praises with each syllable running through your ears, sending a shiver right down your spine and to the tips of your toes. “got so much f’you sweet girl…fuck, wanna give it all to you.”

when you nod— desperate to please him, the corners of kirishima’s lips twitch up into slow sick grin that you know shouldn’t make you melt, should strike fear into your heart, before he kisses you tenderly, letting you know how good you are for him.

your free hand joins its partner beneath the layers of eijirou’s clothes, letting him fuck through both of your fists as if they’re the tight, velvety depth of your cute little pussy clenching around him. “are you close, ei?” you ask him softly, pleadingly with a growing appetite to see him weak above you. the pace of your fingers switches from fast to tantalisingly slow, and the changes in stimulation only serve to bring kirishima closer and closer to his high— his chest heaving and speech pattern slurred, like he’s losing touch with reality and the last remainders of his sanity. 

it doesn’t take much for him to tumble over the edge, just a small whimper of his name on your cherry bitten lips has kirishima seconds away from cumming— hard. he pushes your hands away, hazy and swaying on his feet as kirishima takes over on tugging one off on his fat cock. “lemme see that pussy baby, need’a see her, w-wanna—!” his rambled words taper off into a strangled groan as you lift your night shirt high and yank your soiled panties to the side with freed hands— revealing your warm shiny mound to his greedy gaze. “f-fuck!”  he can’t help it, how much he cums— white hot seed spewing from his aching cock all over your thighs, your shirt and your adorable twitching sex, so wet and sticky all for him. his orgasm shakes the mountain that is eijirou kirishima like an earthquake, and much like a rockslide, he tumbles over you— humping the creaminess between your thighs like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do.

kirishima doesn’t stop cumming, his heavy load thick and lubing you up while he pushes his milky shaft through your bare folds, convulsing over you on the desk as your pussy lips cling to him— tied to his shaft by your syrupy nectar and the remnants of his orgasm. “oh…eijirou,” you sigh, barely holding back your hips as they circle upwards to meet his, grinding your naked mound against his— the scent of sex beginning to hang in the fizzling air between you both. “w-we should grab a condom… or somethin’…” you add half heartedly, the rawness of his cock slotting perfectly against you replacing all rationale in your mind as you commit the feeling to memory.

“but i like you like this darlin’, so close, so wet up against me…makes me wanna fuck you raw,” kirishima says like a petulant child, blissed out and already throbbing with life again— gearing up for another round. “don’t you wanna feel me that way? lemme stretch you out, get nice ‘n fuckin’ deep…ohmyfuckin’ god, y’feel like heaven, baby...” just being pressed up against you like this makes his dick spurt tiny streams of seed, eijirou’s eyes screwing shut as he pushes himself past his overstimulation to grind into your addictive heat  some more.

your jaw goes slack, muscles giving out on you as you collapse against the desk— an electric current of pleasure humming through your body each time eijirou catches your clit, pushing his milky seed through the length of your puffy pussy and letting it stick between your folds. “w-we can’t…” you weakly protest through your clouded judgement. “‘m s’pposed to be responsible.”

shaking his head, kirishima pouts down at you. “baby please…, please,” there’s no denying that eijirou knows his way around people, maybe a little more so than you. he knows just what to say to a customer to get a better price for his work, knows how to charm someone into doing exactly what he wants with just a smile. “won’t put it in, we’ll just keep goin’ just this,” he pants, slowly drawing his hips back until the only thing that connects him to your sopping cunt is strings of your mixed arousals. “we’ll get’cha plan b in the mornin’ too…please, i’ll do anythin’,” pushing back against you, it’s clear that he knows how to get to you, predicts your next move in every game of chess you play. so when he grins down at you dopily, noses your cheek softly and almost romantically, you can’t help but give in. 

“p-promise, eiji?” you ask him wetly, with big bambi eyes and your lips caught between your teeth. both of you cry out in unison when the repair man reaches between your sweaty bodies to take hold of his cock— making sure to circle the bulbous tip into the swollen nub peeking out from between your folds.  

he coos when your puckered and clenching hole gushes from the new stimulation— calling out to him, begging to be filled and fucked. “yeah yeah, i promise,” he says under his breath distantly, stretching his thumb up to spread your pussy, groaning from deep within his chest at the raunchy view. it’s a picture of scandal— viscous, treacle-like tides of your nectar, like dew drops on an early morning, run down the length of your slit and drip to the desk below.

no one would believe kirishima if he told the world he had you like this, and part of him selfishly wants to keep you writhing against his hot and heavy dick all to himself, anyway. “god…ain’t i lucky, got the cutest lil’ cunt in the world right here. all mine.” 

“all yours,” you slur back and trip over each word, throwing an ambrosial and avid look kirishima’s way— telling him without words how much you crave him. “move, please.” your hands take purchase on the curve of his taut ass so that you can lazily grind into one another— your hips rocking fluidly like a boat on waves. you feel like you’re going fucking insane beneath kirishima, but god’d make him a liar if he said he didn’t feel the same. he chases after your sweltering, soused sex like a dog after a bone— pushing forward when you pull back and vice versa.

“baby…y’so wet, can you hear that?” kirishima simpers, his dick slotting against you perfectly,  both of you moving with an air of vigour and restlessness— grasping and tugging at one another wherever and whenever you can. “so nasty, so sweet. s’adorable!” he praises you over the crude sound of your sexes echoing into the night air, each sugar-coated word running through you like honey in your system.

he cups your neck while your eyes roll back in an attempt to keep your blurry gaze on him, ensure that you can watch the man fall apart on top of you, so you know he only gets like this for you. so you remember you can only get like this for him. “you look like you’re about to cum, darlin’… must be so close, huh?”

the feeling of your orgasm twists in your lower tummy, the pressure building right above your pelvis at a painfully slow pace. a gargled gasp and the pinch of your nails into his flesh will tell kirishima that— though he’d earned it, tapping the weight of his shaft against your spasming pussy to test his theory. “mhm…so you are about t’cum?” he guesses, the vibration from his condescending gripes rattling you beneath him. “gonna make a pretty mess of me, yeah?” 

“uhuh,” you sigh out, voice increasing in octave while your tongue darts out to wet your lips and the tips of your ears start to burn. “‘m right there, s-shit! don’t stop—!” 

“don’t cum.” one second, eijirou’s teasing your clit— dangling your orgasm right in front of you like a carrot in front of an animal, the next he’s plunging the monstrosity he calls a cock deep within your warmth— letting her welcome him home all while telling you to fight your body’s instincts. telling you not to cum. “you cum, ‘nd i fuckin’ stop, you got that?” the way he stretches you out is delicious, stinging at the rim of your entrance with a delightful twinge of pain. he’s lucky you’re so fucked out, wet too, otherwise you would have chewed him out for forcing his hefty girth all the way into you and without a condom too. “g’nna hold it f’me baby, promise it’ll feel so much fuckin’ better…” 

losing his composure, the repairman sets a brutal tone to the pace of his hips— jack hammering into your poor swollen pussy without a second thought, groaning loud and proud over the desk that creaks under the burden of your animalistic ministrations. “k-kirishima!” you wail in surprise, tears biting at your waterline, spilling out onto your salt licked cheeks. “y-you’re bein’ unfair!” everything you say is hiccuped out and warbled, shaken up by the forceful thrusts kirishima gives to your lush and goey sex. 

“you’re such a crybaby, gorgeous, i—fuck— only asked you to hang on fer a lil’bit longer,” he snaps back through harsh breaths, throwing his hips back and forth, back and forth— cock smearing it’s precum along the pleasure spots on your ribbed and overstimulated walls. “thought you wanted to be my good little baby, now you’re bein’ a brat? now you can’t wait? such a fuckin’ pitty,” this kiri is meaner, harsher, but still tops up your lungs with a blistering lust in explosive shades of red and orange.

though they hurt so good, it feels even better too, there’s not a moment where you don’t feel filled to the brim with bliss, the redhead’s huge dick repeatedly jamming against your g-spot, lightly pressing into your tummy— at least that’s what it feels like.

eijirou is bigger than you could have ever imagined, but you should have realised that from the moment you couldn’t wrap your hand around the entirety of his cock. he’s weighted, chubby against the sugar-glazed stickiness lining your gummy walls the further he presses into you. if you squeeze down on him, douse him in your candied essence then kirishima shakes like a leaf above you— a mountain brought down to his knees by an earthquake as his uneven breathing prickles at the shell of your ears. the raunchy sound crackling across your brain like electrical static. 

usually, the redhead is a man of restraint, patience and kindness— but he’s done holding himself back from indulging in the treasure he’s been hunting for most of his life. you. “i wanna move, darlin’,” he seethes through gritted teeth with your bodies flush and close, pelvis to pelvis when he reaches the hilt. your cunt clamps down on him so hard that he feels like he can barely move, suffocated by the selfishness of your creamy hole. he’s barely keeping himself together at this point, pulled another step closer to the edge by every ripple of your sex around him. “s’fuckin’ tight, almost like you want me to fuck you open…”

something on your face changes, the slightest twitch of your features indicating your desperation. your brows are knitted, lips parted and doe eyes dazzling bright— it makes kirishima grin, lick his lips like he sees right through you, right down to the cells and DNA that make up who you are. make you a needy little bitch who’s hips buck up to coax more of his pulsating, scorching hot cock deep into your guts. “i want you t’do whatever you want with me, eiji,” you hiccup pathetically, oozing nectar down both his thighs and balls. 

“what a sweet expression…” he mumbles fondly, using his brute strength to manhandle your calves up and over his wide and toned shoulders— the pair of you choking on pitiful groans with how deep he gets. “y’makin’ me wanna kiss you again.” with both of you positioned like this, kirishima drops his entire weight onto you and pulls his length back from the snugness of your heat, simultaneously diving back in for a lewd and uncoordinated kiss. you yelp at the loss, but your eyes roll back when his hips surge forward and kirishima fills you up to brim in one powerful thrust. 

the desk squeals louder than you do, overpowered by the force that eijirou used to brutally pound into you— fat drops of his precum beading along your ripe insides, the ones that welcome him home with every push and pull of your sexes dancing together. your pussy froths at the base of him, as does your mouth as it slots against his— sharing moans and swapping spit, tongues rolling over one another’s. it makes you twitch, makes you scale your nails down his back possessively knowing that he waited this long to ravage you like this, even if he’d lied and hurt you just to get you to take his dick.

“s-say it,” you fight through the thick drool on your tongue and the tears that burn in your throat to whisper to him. at first, the redhead doesn’t hear you— hyper focused on his large hands spreading your pussy lips apart so he can spit onto your mound, watching the crude mixture disappear inside of you. “eijirou.” you grunt a little more sternly, speaking over the wet pap pap pap of his dick plunging in and out of you. “you’re mine. n-no one else’s. you’re only like this for me.” cupping his cheeks, you pin his blood ruby stare onto you, watching as it softens only just.

kirishima falters, the rhythm of his hips stuttering just a little. “‘m yours, darlin’,” he says genuinely, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as if to keep you from slipping between his fingers. “f’as long as you want me.” he pulls at your heart strings, pulls little whines from deep within your chest, eijirou kirishima stretches you both physically and mentally beyond your limits to the point where everything feels so good that it hurts. you’re afraid of what lies on the other end, what waits for you after all this blinding and mind numbing ecstasy is over— you don’t want him to stop.

“i gotta cum, sweetness… ‘m close,” he huffs against your shoulder, wisps of his red mane sticking to your damp, sweaty skin. he shifts, resting a hand against the wall behind you for leverage— ravaging you with the last of his energy driven into frantic, hungry movements. “you r’member what i said right? n-no fuckin’ cummin’ until i say so.” 

gone is your darling kirishima, his warmth replaced by the beast of lies and lust. “fuck…’m so close, gonna cum all over this lil’cunt,” he drawls loud enough to wake anyone in a ten mile radius, swaying with you in sacriligeous dance, speeding up to chase his own high. almost leaving you forgotten and left behind.

“s-slow down eiji, i can’t— can’t hold back if you don’t—!” 

you squeal out, but he doesn’t care, lost in his own pleasure. “maybe i’ll fuck it into ya, fill you so good…” the redhead simpers when you sieze up and trap him inside of you. the dam bursts before you can push him off, his fingers shakily snaking between your bodies to roll over your clit as he creams your insides— potent seed clinging to every ridge and soft spot of your inner pussy. 

tainting you. 

ruining you. 

“s-shit. sorry baby.” he mumbles, never letting up or slowing down despite how sensitive he is— rubbing at you until you’re rendered weak and useless, your own release crashing over you in a sudden wave. “c’mon…let go for me… that’s it, good girl.” 

you claw at his back hard enough to draw blood the entire time. you want him to hurt, just like he had done so with you.

“pretty girl,” his voice cuts through the fog settling over your mind. “let’s…let’s get you cleaned up, yeah? do you wanna shower or i could grab a cloth and—“ 

it amazes you, how he can switch between personalities so easily— make an emotional mess of you one second and treat you like you’re the only person in the world the next. “i just want to sleep, eiji,” you say numbly as he carefully sets you back down, as if you’re made of glass. 

he frowns, for only a split second, replacing it with a tight lipped smile. “at least let me take you to the bathroom, i don’t want you getting sick.” 

“fine, red.” you oblige, letting the man lift you into his arms to clean you up— an uneasy sleepiness taking over you as you follow his command, helplessly once again.

if there’s one thing you know for certain, it’s that eijirou kirishima has always been sweet.

perhaps it’s in his nature, hardwired into each individual fibre of his DNA, to be as kind and as caring as he— like he was genetically coded from conception to some incredibly gentle giant. a man who would cherish his partner or romantic interest above all else, or maybe it was down to his two mothers and the way they raised him. 

but being a person who’s experienced all sides of the dice, who’s had to read into the eyes of others to know what they’re really thinking about you— you can feel that something is eerily off with kirishima. despite the night of passion that you’d shared, succumbing to days, if not weeks of want directed towards one another— you still feel somewhat afraid. he stays over most nights, and you fall into the same routine in the sheets, waking up to mornings of regret and staring at the ceiling when he kisses the pulse point on your neck. you feel scared. like he might try to rip your lifeline out every time he does. 

eijirou is sweet, you have to remind yourself when he randomly squeezes your hip during the day, passing by to work on repairs on another part of the house. eijirou is not bad. he would never cause harm to you, but the thought still lingers in the back of your mind every time you catch him lingering around corners; or following you around the house only to surprise you with affections that don’t feel real— don’t feel like him. perhaps kirishima was never nice, never sweet or never good— and you’re only just seeing through his gentlemanly facade.

your rose tinted window is beginning to crack. 

if he hadn’t been so avoidant of your questions about izuku, about what you need to know for your book, maybe you could see past the true parts of him that begin to show. for now, you shift uncomfortably underneath his coal furnace heated limbs after another night tangled in the sheets with kirishima, his arm is slung heavily over your waist as you struggle to find your phone amongst the mess you’ve created. 

the device chimes with two notifications, though early in the morning and you grunt with both annoyance and success once you pull it out from beneath your pillows and the screen blares blue light into your face. 

mina ashido ( publicist beloved ) at 9:45AM: hey love, just checking in to see how the draft for that first chapter is coming along, gonna need an update soon x

reminders app at 10:27AM: izuku’s anniversary. 

your vision swims, that sickly feeling of grief flooding your veins like thick black tar— suffocating you from within your own body. the anniversary of your brother’s death has never slipped your mind like this before, it usually arrives weeks before the actual date does, a mental reminder creeping up on you like that wolf in the children’s fable of little red riding hood— but this year, you’d almost forgotten the event.

the tragedy that changed the trajectory of your life forever. 

maybe you can place the blame on your mother, like you do for most things, blame her for not holding on long enough to see another torturous year without izuku by your side— torture her for a little longer with the loss of her golden child. 

it can still be her fault that you forgot, if you try hard enough. after all, she’s the one who decided to kick the bucket, too, making it all about her grief— yet again.

“that’s today?” kirishima utters from over your shoulder, voice laced with sleep with his gaze settled on the digital glow from your phone. you’d failed to notice him wake up, too engrossed in the notification to feel his movements around you. “are ya okay?” 

shaking your head, you shrug and allow yourself to use the redhead as your crutch and as your comfort— no matter how confused you might feel about him right now, you know that he’s been through this loss too and deserves some solace like you do. so you lean into his grip as you speak. “i had no idea that it was going to be today either,” your voice is the most devoid of emotion it’s ever been. at least to eijirou it is. you look empty, feel lifeless in his arms and he hugs you close to try alleviate the shockwaves of pain running through you. “i think… i think i wanna go see him. his grave.” 

“you sure? ya want me to come along or somethin’?” 

“no, i should go alone.” shaking your head no again, you turn to look eijirou dead in the eye. “it’s been a while since i’ve been and i’m sure you go to see him all the time.” eijirou stiffens and loosens his hold on you— almost as if he’s revealing a part of himself that he doesn’t quite want you to see. taking off his mask as the rose tinted glass above you both threatens to shatter once more. “but we can do something together when i get back, a family dinner? like the ones we used to have. i think izuku would like that.” 

“for sure,” eijirou responds quickly, perking up again and pressing kisses up your arm in an attempt to keep you calm. you almost hate that it works, that he plays you for a fool even though you know he holds secrets above your head. little white lies that he feeds you just to keep you sedated— you hate that at this moment, it’s still not enough to steer you away from your sweet old eijirou kirishima. that you don’t distrust him enough yet, despite what your dead mother might have believed about him and your brother’s death. “i could cook his favourites after ‘m done re-paintin’ some of the rooms today.” 

you seemed to have forgotten that eijirou stuck around out of convenience to work on the house and not just to keep you company and ravage your body night after night as a distraction from your discoveries or anguish— perking up too at the mention of paint. 

“oh, you finally picked out colours then?” 

“mhm, though some are mostly different shades’a green.” 

“why green?” 

“t’honour him, was his colour after all.” kirishima says simply, checking your face for permission for his idea. 

the colour green is supposed to represent health, the shade of life. your brother’s colour. and you despise that, how it’ll be immortalised in the walls of your childhood home… because to you, none of it is true. green when associated with deku means death, it means sickness, it means envy of the happy life others around you lead when yours fell apart as soon as he was taken from you. 

green walls wouldn’t even begin to honour the person you loved most. 

but it was his. it was present in his glistening and curious eyes, his unruly and wild curly hair. it was definitely his. 

so, you push through the pain and you pull yourself together enough to offer kirishima a half-hearted and appreciative smile— instead of screaming the protests your lonely heart sings. 

“thank you eiji, i’m sure izuku would love that.” 

kirishima insists that you take his truck up to the graveyard. it’s a little ways away out of town, up one of the rockier trails where lost loved ones can quite literally rest in peace. overnight, it had snowed up to your ankle, and there was absolutely no way your little sports car-convertible had the strength to pump itself uphill in this weather. you weren’t sure if it was worth the risk either. 

your brother was a sentimental person, that much you remembered. he found something to cherish in almost everything he touched, appreciated gifts no matter how big or how small— just knowing that you’d thought about him was enough. that’s how you knew not to splurge on the overly priced bouquets of flowers in the whiteridge gift shop, how you figured something homemade for his grave would be better than the half-assed and plastic-wrapped wilted flowers sold in the convenience store next to liquid gold.

so, with this in mind, you stop kiri’s truck just outside of the woods— trudge through the thick snow and black ice in search of something…something thoughtful.

wildflowers.

you gather sweet violets in the shade of a rich purple, barren strawberry for their delicate white petals and the gentle blush pink of butterbur. each flower, growing wild and unruly at the foot of overarching pine trees or huddled together, reminds you of him— the way his curls couldn’t be tamed, the way his star-spotted cheeks still held warmth despite the bite of cold in the winter seasons. they all somehow connect back to izuku. you don’t know how long you spend picking flowers as you make your way up to the graveyard, your fingers growing stiff with the frosty air, your nose sore and chest a little tight from the oncoming cold you’re about to catch…but you can’t find it in you to care. 

izuku would have loved this, you know that, you can practically hear the quiver of gratefulness in his youthful voice— see the smile stretching across his lips and the fresh stream of tears in his eyes. ‘f-for me?’ he would have said to you. ‘t-thank you so much!’ he would have added. because izuku was not a materialistic person, he was not one for gestures of grandeur; he'd always want something from the heart. you can only hope that your small bouquet of children from nature is enough for him, enough to make him feel loved even while he rests. 

you love him so much, you miss him more and you even hate him just a little— for leaving you alone so soon. 

by the time you reach the top of the hill, melted snow has infiltrated your boots and soaked through to your socks— you’re shuddering, you’re teary eyed but you’re there and a little more ready to see his stone. kirishima had told you that he hadn’t visited your brother in a while, so the headstone might have needed a little sprucing up but when you arrive, it’s already clean.

there’s not a cobweb in sight, it looks like it’s been scrubbed of any grime brought on by the countless types of weather that falls upon the little town of whiteridge and there’s a bouquet of flowers that look similar to the ones you clutch tightly in your right hand sitting on the ledge— a box of steaming pork katsu right beside it. 

izuku’s favourite.

approaching the grave, you drag your fingers along the engraved cursive of your brother’s name— brows crinkling and face sagging with a muddled lour. a twig snaps behind you and between the snowflakes that fall hard but slow, you manage to make out tufts of straw blonde hair poking out from beneath a thick cable-knit hat and a pair of blazing crimson eyes. “hey,” as he gets closer, you can just about follow the movement of his lips as words form around them, the man from the bar towering over you— his hand with a flask in it, outstretched. “want some green tea? ya look like a shakin’ purse dog.” bakugou offers so casually as if running into him at the grave of your dead brother isn’t the strangest thing in the world. 

a beat of silence passes, filled only with the wind's wails— a symphony of pathetic howls and cries that only your mother could recreate. when you don’t respond, katsuki shrugs with the rustling of his winter coat and unscrews the cap of his flask, pouring a cup of tea out for you and shoving it between your nimble fingers. 

he almost thinks that you’re frozen in place, before the piping hot mug thaws at your state of shock. “what the fuck are you doing here?” you blink up at him with snowflakes in your lashes, a warm puff of breath condensating on your lips from how much your chest heaves— annoyance and bewilderment rattling about amongst the sparse oxygen in your lungs, from being so high up.

bakugou looks at you like he’s holding back— pained as he debates on what to tell you. “it’s deku’s anniversary—“ 

“izuku’s.” you snap back harshly, correcting him, snarling and baring your teeth like a provoked and angry dog. “first the bar, then my mom’s place and now here. it’s like you’re obsessed with my family or somethin’. you don’t— did you even know him? my brother?” it’s irrational the way you speak to him, using your heightened grief to lash out at a man you barely know. regardless, bakugou stands his ground— let’s you vent at him over the steaming drink he’d been so kind as to pour you. “it’s not like you were even friends—“

but every man has his limits, his invisible line before the point at which he snaps. “that’s a damn lie.” he barks back a little too honestly and with just as much force, words piercing through the blizzard and your force field of anguish. “we were more than friends…fuckin’ brothers and i—“ everything he had planned to say, dies on the tip of katsuki’s tongue, lost in the wind as if he can’t tell you anymore. as if he’s too far over that invisible line.

“and you miss him,” you finish for him, gesturing to the small display of flowers the blonde had set up— crouching a little so yours can join them. “how…how did you know him?” prying gently, you think back to the photos of them that your mother had hidden— he and kirishima and your brother— and take advantage of the vulnerability clinging to katsuki like the heavy snowfall. 

“we met at school, like everyone else did.” bakugou fixes his blood red stare onto your other hand clasped around the mug and nudges at it after a few moments, prompting you to take a sip and not saying anymore until the temperate liquid slides down your throat and earthy tones spread across your tongue. he notices it then, the satisfied twitch of your face amongst the wretched snow, and continues— knowing that you’re warmed up, doing what izuku would have done for you.

“he was the only kid that spoke t’me after the town practically fuckin’ villainised me. a freakin’ kid.” he laughs bitterly, nervous fingers tapping the cool marble of izuku’s headstone. “not that it mattered, was the drug addict’s son, all of whiteridge hated that. hated me.” then he looks at you, right at you— as if he’s reading deep into your soul and picking out the parts of your brother he sees in you. “‘cept for deku. he showed me kindness, hung out with me when other kids wouldn’t…” 

“he even got’cha ma t’look take care’a me from time to time. s’why i stayed with her after everythin’. we really were friends,” the blonde continues, telling you this like it was a promise. “we all were. ‘nd i shoulda done more t’save him.”

perking up, you grab bakugou’s wrist. “if you’d done what? what did you say?” 

“n-nothin’,” he yanks his hand back, walls building back up and sheltering his grief stricken heat by pulling his sleeve back over it. “i just meant, that maybe if i had been there f’deku like he was from me…he wouldn’t have died. not like that.” 

to hear someone else take the blame you’ve been bearing all these years, to be gifted with the knowledge that they’d been loved and cared for by izuku too is enough to bring you to tears— and you can’t even remember the last time you cried like this. crystalline and salty droplets strike a hot and stinging path down the apples of your cheeks as you realise. you are not the only person this town wounded in the war, you’re not the only person whiteridge viciously chewed up and spat back out. for once, you are not alone in the pain that you feel. 

you might not have remembered bakugou from back then and you might have even played your hand in his suffering, but if he truly meant a lot to your brother, then he now meant a lot to you too. more than a hook-up. a friend.

“‘m sure izuku would be happy that you came to see him today, you even brought his favourite.” you offer, reaching out to the blonde in the storm of grief— letting him know that he has you too.

“was gonna share it with ‘im, yanno just fer old time’s sake,” bakugou quips in response, relieved to have the topic changed. he fiddles with the box of the convenience store version of your brother’s favourite curry and passes you the set of wooden chopsticks it comes with before closing his eyes and putting his hands together to thank whoever’s out there for the meal. “but ‘m sure the nerd wouldn’t mind if i split with ya too.” 

bakugou peeks an eye open to look at you from the side, admiring how the blanket of settled powder white illuminates your features. “i don’t think he would mind, izuku loved to share,” mimicking the blonde, you clap your hands together and thank izuku for the food, for the memories and for bringing you someone to walk through the rest of your loss with. “and he had this weird habit of bringing people together,” snapping the chopsticks and rubbing them together, you take a mouthful of the food, humming at the warmth that embraces you— as if you’re being held by your brother himself. “in the most unconventional of ways.” 

you let the blonde take the dish and utensils from you— parting your lips when he holds another bite to them before feeding himself. “like gettin’ us to sleep together, sweetheart?” he chuckles, light and full of life— as if he’s feeling the same pain relief you are. 

“alright hot-shot, this is my dead brother you’re talking about.” you joke back, pulling another sweet symphony of laughter from bakugou. “what’s so funny, hah?”

“you mockin’ me, sweetheart?” katsuki cocks his head at you, swiping a thumb over the corner of your mouth— wiping away some leftover sauce.

“what if i am, sweetheart?”

at that, bakugou scrunches up his nose adorably, nearly killing you in the process, and pinches your cheek hard— tugging the flesh away from your face until you apologise between fits of giggles and squeals, begging for the blonde to let you go. 

the rest of your visit to izuku’s grave is spent in much higher spirits. you understand now what it means to share your grief with someone else. yourself and katsuki spend hours by your brother’s side, reminiscing, laughing and crying— drinking through the green tea flask to warm your souls until it’s finished and your fingertips are close to freezing off. 

taking your fingers between his, bakugou rubs the heat of his hands over yours— blowing some breath over them as he tenderly looks to you between the slowing snowfall. “yer freezin’ up, doll,” he murmurs, pressing his lightly chapped lips to the backs of your knuckles. “do ya need a lift back t’the house? i think deku would have my head from beyond the grave if i left’ya to walk back on yer own.”

your shoulders raise as you shrink in on yourself, not because you’re cold…but because of the way the blonde looks at you. as if you remind him of all things good in the world, as if you’re special and important and all things wonderful wrapped up in a gift with a pretty little bow. no one’s looked at you that way for as long as you can remember, not since your brother at least. 

katsuki looks at you as if you matter.

“uh, no,” you start, clearing your throat as you shy away from his intense stare. “i drove out here.”

“in that shitty ‘lil sports car ya got?”

screwing your face up into a pout, you send a playful glare his way. “you leave duchess outta this!” 

“pfft,” bakugou sucks his teeth, but grins at you and facetiously pets your head, nonetheless. “whatever.” 

“i took kirishima’s truck on the way up,” the blonde grimaces, visibly wincing at your words. “he insisted because my baby duchess couldn’t handle the snow and iced up roads…but if you drove too, you could follow me back to the house?” you explain calmly, pulling bakugou’s attention back onto you and not the fact that you’re so buddy-buddy with the aforementioned redhead. “kirishima and i are having a dinner for deku and…we—i’d love it if you came to celebrate him.” 

the man before you doesn’t respond, still eyeing you with that same intense and calculating stare before he shrugs, slinging his arm over his bent knee. “what’s in it fer me?” 

you smile at that, remembering his words from your night at the hotel. “a free meal and spending some extra time with me?” 

“fine,” he says, standing and outstretching his hand for you to take so that he can help you up. “sounds like a deal, princess.” 

“hey darlin’, is that you? you back already? i was just about to finish up with the—“

kirishima’s voice fails him when he notices you standing in the doorway to the kitchen sheepishly, your jacket folded over your arms neatly while bakugou shrugs his off from behind you. subtle scents of fresh paint and spices that once filled the room quickly become mellowed out by tones of testosterone and quiet rage that both men exude. “hi eiji…i hope you don’t mind but i brought one of izuku’s strays over for dinner…” setting your clothes to the side, you step forward to greet the now brooding redhead, but he looks straight past you— his face hardened while his usually sparkling ruby eyes darken with the clouds of an oncoming storm. “eijirou…” you whisper with a little more firmness, only to be shrugged off once more.

“what is he doing here?” he asks, keeping his voice short despite the anger skimming just below the surface of his skin, particles of the emotion vibrating against kirishima’s vocal chords.

innocently, albeit mockingly, katsuki tilts his head to the side— rows of his pearly white teeth on display as he smirks slow. “you got cotton between ya ears or somethin’ red? she invited me over fer dinner,” he juts his chin out to gesture towards you as you turn away from kirishima, exasperated with both of their behaviours. “‘m here to celebrate izuku’s anniversary.”

kirishima rolls his eyes and tugs on the sleeves of his green-chequered button up  even though they’re already rolled up snug on his convex biceps. “celebrate.” he throws down the towel that’s slung over his shoulder, snarling his words with an incredulous tone. “you weren’t even friends with izuku!”

“shut the hell up, y’don’t know a damn thing, red!” bakugou fired back, equally as riled up as the other man in the room— his own wrath bubbling over like the soup kirishima has going on the stove. “talkin’ shit about friendships like what you had with him even meant somethin—“

“oh, i call bullshit, bakugou.”

“yeah? ya sure that stencha shit ain’t comin’ from you?”

you feel as though you’re in the middle of a war zone, dazed and confused at the two people who seemingly meant a lot to your brother ( as far as the picture you had of them went ). they fire worded missiles and shrapnel insults at each other, not caring that you stand in the middle of no-man's land, seconds away from being hurt— too caught up in whatever conflict that’s brewed between them over the years.

“will you two just shut it?” you screech into the midst of the battle, eyes screwed shut and fists balled at your sides. “what’s the matter with you guys? arguing like this on the day your close friend died.” both men reach out to touch you, silenced and apologetic but you shake them off, inhaling deep to calm yourself down. “yanno, i have this nagging feeling that the two of you were supposed to mean something to izuku, that he cared for you both so…profoundly…and i have no idea what happened between you both, but i know that he would hate it— hate this.” opening your eyes slowly, you look between kirishima and bakugou with helplessness and a pleading gaze. “so please, just for today. can you try to get along for him? and if not for izuku, then for me?”

a tension lays thick and suffocatingly over the three of you, so much so that you’re sure not even the sharpest of butter knives would be able to cut through it. yet, slowly but surely, the redhead and the blonde nod their heads, grumbling out their agreements. 

“yeah, of course, darlin’.”

“whatever ya say, sweetheart.” 

though, both of them fail to admit that they’ve only agreed for a selfish reason— only agreeing because of you.

the rest of the meal goes without ( and you say this lightly ) a hitch, aside from the few snide remarks bakugou makes about kirishima’s cooking and the way that the taller redhead barges him back in response. they, at least, try to be on their best behaviour when you begin clearing up after your meal, three sets of dishes and cutlery all stacked up to the left of the sink with bakugou on washing and kirishima on drying. 

“see,” you coo, watching the boys work dutifully side by side. “that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

passing a bowl to kirishima, katsuki shakes his hands of the apple-scented suds on them and grabs another, grumbling and he does so. “yeah, i guess,” he grunts with an irritated tick to his actions. “the food weren’t half bad, shitty hair.”

“neither are you, asshole.” the other responds, running a tea towel over the water droplets on the bowl.

“what’cha say t’me?”

“what’s the matter, bakugou, y’got cotton between your ears?”

sighing again, you find yourself stepping between them both before fists are swung and break up the fight with a bribe. “okay, okay, while you boys play nice, imma go sift through my mom’s stuff and see if i can find a place to call for dessert,” you tell them, pushing yourself from the dining table to leave the room. “be good.”

and as soon as you’re gone, the claws come out.

keeping his voice low, eijirou is the first to pounce, practically tossing the dish he was drying into a nearby cupboard to point an accusing finger in your other companion’s face. “the fuck is yer game, bakugou? what the hell are you doin’ here? we promised to never speak to each other ag—“ the bulking redhead hardly ever gets like this, hardly ever feels the urge to put his hands on someone else— thats not how he was raised…but looking at the blonde before him drives him crazy and up the walls, his piping hot blood carrying vexed hormones straight through the logic in his brain.

“you think i wanna be here, red?” katsuki snaps back and cuts his rival off with stinging words, bearing his fangs, showing the pink of his gums. “the only reason i came was for her.” that much is true, after everything that’s happened between them, katsuki bakugou wouldn’t have been caught within a ten mile radius of this red haired jerk. 

“her? since when did ya give a fuck about anyone aside from yourself?” the whole idea is entertaining to kirikshima…the idea that the brooding blonde could possibly care for someone outside of his own being. it’s practically laughable, a joke so unheard of anyone would cackle the first time they heard it.

scrunching up his nose, nostrils flared—bakugou jeers back at the younger male, throwing the sponge he’d been using to wash up into the sink in a fit full of pent up irritation “yanno that’s real fuckin’ rich comin’ from you, asshole.” 

eijirou hisses back, refusing to back down in this fight for who’s right. “fuck you, katsuki, you were never supposed to come back, you got some damn nerve bein’ around her.”

“well unlike you, she’s got more reason t’trust me over anyone else in this fuckin’ town! even over you. ya don’t deserve her, you don’t deserve half the shit you got.” katsuki’s words are like acid, singeing right through eijirou’s supposedly unbreakable skin. they hit him right where it hurts the most, in his strong heart that beats for you. the girl he’s loved since before he even really knew what that meant and what it entailed. 

eijirou moves before he thinks, acting on instinct as his fist suddenly collides with katsuki’s face— stunning them both. bakugou barely has time to recoil, blood oozing thickly from his now busted lip before the redhead grabs him by the collar— seething directly in his face. “and you do?” he whispers through gritted teeth. “you’re nothin’ but a lowlife, a sad lil’ man livin’ on the out-skirts of town ‘cause no one’s given a fuck ‘bout’ya since your precious old lady died.” the back and forth between the two men never dies down, like a continuous game of tug of war with both of them pulling as hard as they can, giving the other burns from the rope in the process. 

seeing who can cause the other the most pain.

“you take that shit back, eijirou. she was like a mother to us. you know that.” bakugou’s voice wobbles, near crying out like a wounded animal.

“ah, so you’d still defend the woman, even after everything she put her through.” your childhood friend, he’s talking about you and the suffering your mother put you through— but neither man can tell if it's because he cares for you, or if it's to put the blonde through another round of mental agony.

“and you’d still keep on lyin’ to her, even if it meant costin’ her feelin’s instead of tellin’ her the truth!” he barks venomously. 

“what truth?” interjecting softly, you re-enter the kitchen with your phone in hand, the dial tone echoing from the device. “who’s feelings?”

bakugou is the first to say your name. “you’re back.”

“y-yeah, i found a place to order from…i just came to ask what either of you wanted,” you trail off. “what’s going on, you guys?’

you must look scared because both men relax their stances, worry cascading over two sets of features. “n-nothin’ gorgeous, we were just talkin’, s’all good,” kirishima says, using that sickly sweet tone that makes your skin crawl, the one he uses to play pretend and act like nothing’s wrong. “right, bakugou?”

the blonde looks over eijirou with disbelief, failing to fall for his nice guy facade where you usually do. “fuck you.” he spits, pushing kirishima away from him. “fuck this shit, ‘m leaving.”

“w-wait, katsuki!” 

“i shouldn’t have even come here,” he brushes you off, grabbing his coat as he curses under his breath. “i knew this shit was a bad idea, can’t fuckin’ be around him when he lies like that.”

eijirou moves to defend himself, but you catch katsuki by the sleeve desperately, searching his face for answers. “eiji wouldn’t lie to me...and please, stop being vague, i just want to know what’s going on,” you exclaim, equally as desperate as when you’d grabbed ahold of him.

“get off’a me!”

“don’t talk to her like that, bakugou.”

“i thought i told you, shitty hair, fuck. off.” katsuki froths like a rabid dog, pulling away from you both.

reaching out for him again, you try your best to plead with the man from the bar. “what’s the truth? eijirou would never lie to me!”

sparing you a glance, his eyes bore deep into your soul, reading you— looking for something you can’t see. “do ya trust him?” you hang back before nodding ‘yes’ in response. “do ya trust me?”

your throat bobs, an uncomfortable soundlessness feasting on the oxygen in the room. do you trust him? “i-i…” you hesitate to admit your truth. “i hardly know you, bakugou. kiri…he— we grew up together, he’s always been there for me.”

“and where was he these last couple years, hah?” bakugou laughs coldly when you don’t reply. “exactly. but that don’t matter, does it? as long as he puts his dick in ya t’keep y’quiet at night, you’ll keep on believin’ whatever bullshit he feeds you, ain’t that right, sweetheart?” he sends a heated glare over your shoulder. “right, kirishima?”

“i think you need to leave.” the other male voices from behind you, stern, level.

bakugou looks back down at you, waiting for you to wake up, offering you his metaphorical hand to shake yourself from this nightmare…but no matter what suspicions you hold to kirishima— you know him. you’ve known him all your life, and you’d be a fool to pick a stranger over him. 

bakugou takes your silence as his answer, and scoffs in sad mixture of disappointment and amusement. “fuckin’ figures. yer just like ‘em, everyone else in this shitty fuckin’ town.” he turns on his heel, marching out of the room before you can even stop him, slamming the front door to your mother’s house as he makes his own way out. “i hope yer makin’ the right choice,” he adds as he goes, the words echoing down the halls eerily. as if its a warning.

eijirou is quick to swaddle you in his candied, overbearing affections, wrapping his arms around you from behind— his chin resting on your forehead while you tremble from hurt. from fear. “‘m sorry, pretty girl,” he says, breath just tickling the shell of your ear. “i shoulda warned ya, kept ya away from him. that bakugou’s no good. the whole town knows that.”

ripping yourself from your childhood friend’s grip, you glower up at him— the look on your face is enough to put him six feet under. “what makes you think anything the town thinks of people is the least bit true?” you hiss, unimpressed.

“woah, hey! i’m not the bad guy here…” kirishima throws his hands up in defence, confusion taking residence on his face— evident in the crease between his brows and the downturned corners of his lips. “his parents did drugs yanno, he was practically raised by himself! you don’t know what kinda things guys like him get up to!”

“i practically raised myself! you have no fucking clue, eijirou! no clue what it was like for me or for him!” you’re screaming now, hot all over— so angry that you can feel the lump in your throat telling you that you’re about to cry. “does that make me bad? does that mean i deserved the way this town treated me?”

“n-no, darlin’ that’s not what i meant!” he tries to coo at you, tries to hold you again— but all you feel is disgust, betrayal towards him.

your head pounds, a migraine brewing at the back of your mind like a thunderstorm over the horizon. maybe everything you’d found, the letters and pictures from your mother had been a sign. a warning. trust no one, believe nothing but your intuition. “i want you to go.” deadpanning, you circle the sides of your head with two fingers in order to alleviate its ache. everything both bakugou and kirishima had said has your mind a whirlwind of a mess, like the aftermath of a hurricane and just having eijirou near makes your head hurt even more. “i need you to go.”

“baby…please, i didn’t mean it. t’mess this all up. what i said…i—“ the repairman attempts to reason with you, but you resist yet again.

“please!” you scream until you feel like your throat is bloody and raw, tears glimmering in your rain-clouded eyes. “just leave me the fuck alone!” from here, kirishima is quick to gather his belongings as you continue to scream and scream, following after him. “don’t come back, don’t call unless you’re going to be useful and fix this damn house instead of lying to me!”

you don’t stop yelling until he’s out of your childhood home, in his truck and halfway down the drive. 

you don’t stop crying until you know that he’s gone for sure.

nothing stops hurting until you crawl into your mother’s bed, wrap yourself in the sheets that smell like her and fall asleep to the warm memories of her, yourself and izuku back in your happier days.

and you swear, right before you drift off, you feel them both embracing you— telling you that the truth will come out and that it’ll all be okay.

some questions are best left unanswered.

its a common saying that you used to believe. you’d scream it at your mother all throughout your teenage years, begging her to open her eyes and see that you were suffering behind her cloud of desperation to uncover what had happened to your brother. but the longer you spent in the clutches of white ridge, the less faith you had in the saying— there were too many questions, too many puzzle pieces that fit together to paint the perfect picture. something happened here, that both kirishima and bakugou refuse to tell you, despite all the signs and odd behaviours that lead to them.

curiosity killed the cat.

you think you understand that one a little better now. your inquisitiveness and investigative nature will be the death of you. you need to find out what truly happened to izuku midoriya, the urge to uncover any ounce of the truth spreading through your body like a virus, your bloodstream teeming with the deadly infection known as said curiosity. it rots at your brain, sitting at the back of your mind like a heavy weight that stops you from concentrating on your original task. your book.

a few deys after your dumpster fire dinner for deku, mina had sent you the edits she’d made on the beginnings of your transcript. it wasn’t enough, she’d told you more or less, you needed something more captivating and in depth. your work just wasn’t enough. the thousands of words you’d poured your heart and soul into, every little raw and scalding detail of your early years deemed uninteresting in a matter of small and yellow highlighted notes. no matter how much digging you’d done, no matter how many pictures of them boys you’d uncovered— it wasn’t enough. 

“fuck that,” the cursor on your laptop and google doc flashes at you mockingly, daring you to type up more words that’ll only be obliterated by your publicist. you can’t write like this, with so much on your mind so you slam the lid of your device shut and rush yourself to get ready. there’s somewhere that you need to be, some questions that you need answered, no matter how much of a risk the truth may cause to you. 

to your destination, you take more hidden photographs that you’d uncovered beneath your mother’s mattress, ones of eijirou and katsuki, their arms around the shoulders of your shorter and youthful older brother. their smiles had been wide, eyes innocent and much unlike what you see in them today. on the back of the glossed papers, you find hand written messages— a list of belongings owned by your brother that had never been returned, friendship marks of tiny hearts on their inner wrists that indicate a lifelong bond. 

a bond that’s seemingly fallen to pieces, leaving you with clues to solve the mystery the shattered glass has left behind.

anxiety blossoms in the soils and flesh of your chest cavity once your car pulls up outside the whiteridge police station, it grows faster than you can keep up with, fertilised by the blood rushing through your ears and your levels of cortisol, the stress hormones, that spike. you remember it vividly, memories of frequent visits and damp questioning rooms and jingling handcuffs rush forth in your mind— making you swing open the door to the driver’s side in fear that you might throw up out of nervousness.

you feel your inner-child recoil with a hunger to escape with each step you take into the police building, remembering the hours you spent sat against PVC covered chairs in the waiting room, listening to your mother sob and plead for investigators to re-open izuku’s case.

you think about how she died without being able to rest, without bringing justice to her son.

you feel guilty for putting the blame on her for all these years too.

with a shaky breath, you approach the front desk and the officer behind it, coughing to grab their attention. “hi,” you mumble your name softly, leaning against the cool varnished wood for some relief that combats the world spinning around you. “i need to look at a case file? whatever you have on the midoriya incident.” you give him the date too, stumbling over the exact day and month.

“sorry lady, but that case has been closed for years,” the officer, officer monomania, drawls— grey eyes dragging lazily up and down your frame. “since before i started workin’ here, and we don’t give out scoop t’primp ‘n proper city journalists like you.” that same feeling of sickness from before crashes over you like a strong tidal wave and you grip the ledge of the desk to steady yourself. you wonder if that was how your mother felt, denied time and time again the opportunity to seek rectitude for her eldest child.

“i’m not a journalist, i have rights to the case,” you say simply, trying to keep the edge off of your trembling voice— this town has done you no good, chipping away at the strong walls you’ve built to protect yourself from all the harm it’d caused you while you were young. you may be from the city, you may not look like you’re from the quaint life of quiet little whiteridge, but this had been your home, and you’d be damned if you let it wear you down again. withhold the truth from you again.

standing tall, eyes darkening— you lower your voice to a bone chilling sneer. “if looking at me isn’t enough indication of who i am, then you’re going to have to listen to me very carefully, officer monoma.”

“i am one of this country’s best selling authors, the cost of my car parked right outside this building is probably worth more than every person in this shitty, filthy little town alone.” you’re tired of the world and the way in which it's treated you up to now, so you say fuck it all and direct all your rage at the one person who stands between you and your truth in this moment. “you don’t even want to know how much is in my bank account right now, and how little of a dent suing you and this place will make in my earnings. so i suggest, you take your ass to the back, get me the case file and whatever belongings you’re holding from these pictures and bring them back to this prim ‘n pretty fuckin’ author. y’got that?”

monoma visibly shrinks underneath your steeled gaze. “y-yes ma’am.”

you feel like you can finally breathe again once you’re back in the safety of your car, duchess, whipping out a bottle of water from the glove compartment and chugging it back just to wash the taste of bile out of your mouth. you can feel the weight of izuku’s case file sitting in your lap, scared to open it, scared to see what you might find— his belongings that they’d found at the scene fitting into a small ziplock bag, wrapped in a brown paper envelope. 

using careful fingers, you flip open the file— eyes skimming over the report, the autopsy and the witness statements. it tells the same story that had been relayed to your mother all those years ago. izuku midoriya, nearly two decades ago, had wandered into the woods just outside of west whiteridge unaccompanied at mid-day, and passed away alone after falling into a nearby river. the autopsy revealed a broken ankle, blood bond markings on his inner wrist that were freshly made the day of his death, and his shirt and accessories tucked away into a nearby bush.

final ruling: accident.

the contents of the ziplock bag reveal just that of the report, and you feel like your whole world has come crashing down. izuku knew how to swim, izuku was smart— he wouldn't have just wandered off injured and exposed himself to danger like that. not on his own.

that’s not who he was, and it wasn’t fair for the world to treat him that way.

with the evidence now in your possession, and every possible route or bridge to the truth burned and fizzled out, you make your way back to the house at top speeds— fuelled by your emotions, aching to get back into bed and scream into your pillow about how unbalanced the world seems. however, on your journey home, you notice a familiar looking jeep, one that you know belongs to a certain blonde who you haven’t seen or heard from since the night of deku’s dinner.

you know that the abrupt ending to such a pleasant night had mostly been your fault, taking kirishima's side over bakugou’s was a bad move, especially after the scene you’d walked in on. they were both equally to blame.

for the millionth time since you’d arrived in whiteridge, you move before your brain can catch up— turning your steering wheel so that your car blocks up the middle of the empty, icy country road and bakugou is forced to come to emergency stop. “are ya fuckin’ insane?” he yells, hauling himself from his driver’s seat and slamming the jeep door shut with force. “i coulda hit ya, or worse, killed ya!”

is it weird? that even when katsuki’s fuming he’s one of the most beautiful people you’ve ever seen? cherry red eyes suddenly fiery while he marches over to your car, your ribcage dramatically lifting and dropping with your ragged breathing from behind the wheel. 

“k-katsuki,” you breathe out when he opens your car door from where you’ve left it unlocked for him.

“jesus sweetheart,” his gaze sweeps over your face, eyes brimming with concern as all of his anger dissipates just from taking in your teary expression. “have you been cryin’? why the fuck’ve you been drivin’ so recklessly?”

his calloused fingers brush over the swell of your wet cheeks, and instinctively, you lean into his touch. “i wanted to apologise for the other night…i shouldn’t have put so much pressure on you and…” your voice tapers off, still confused by katsuki’s dynamic with eijirou and where they might stand today. 

he shakes his head, offering you a soft smirk. “don’cha worry about that, we shouldn’t have put’ya in that situation,” shrugging, bakugou nudges a stray tear from your cheek with his knuckle.“‘m skippin’ town anyways, so none of that matters anymore.”

this makes you perk up, and not in a good way. “y-you’re leaving whiteridge?” you grab at katsuki’s sleeve just like you did that night, a silent plea for him to stay and not leave you behind. 

“yeah, s’like kirishima said, i ain’t worth shit ‘round here.”

that's not true, bakugou has to know that. he was kind where the world had chewed him up and spat him right back out, he was honest where others were cruel and fed you lies on a silver spoon…and most importantly, he cared. for you, for your mother and for your brother. 

he had to know, that at least to you, bakugou was worth the world and then some. 

“you’re…you mean something to me, katsuki,” your hand on his wrist shoots up to his collar, tugging him down. so fast that bakugou has to balance himself with one hand on the roof of your car— his lips falling to meet yours in a gentle, pillowy kiss. having him like this, compared to the fast paced and rough nature of the sex you’d had before is like walking on clouds.

he tastes like caramel apples, feels like heaven and slowly but surely, he relaxes in your hold— noses brushing and his long golden lashes brushing against the apples of your cheeks. 

when the need for oxygen becomes too much for you to bare, you look at him yearly, brushing your own thumb over his kiss-swollen lips. “i-i like you, and i’m thankful to you for being my support this past month,” you hum, sniffing a little from the cold. “don’t forget me when you leave, kay?”

“how could i ever forget the girl at the bar that night, hah?” katsuki responds like its a promise, resting his forehead against yours.

déjà vu is a funny thing.

as soon as your back hits the inside of the door to your mom’s place, you feel as though you’re reliving your first night in whiteridge again. katsuki’s all over you, having followed you back here after your rushed confession— both of you deciding to say fuck it all and have one last hurrah. he floods your senses, he’s all that you can taste as his tongue sloppily glides over yours.

he’s all that you can smell, the scent of burning sugars filling your nostrils— poking at the flame burning in your lower belly. his low moans vibrate around in your skull erotically, between your own gasps for air and the rustling of your clothes.

you feel him everywhere, his hands on your waist, the back of your neck and up your skirt, groping at the flesh of your ass as bakugou hoists you up, lips still melting against yours like hot candy, and carrying you to the living room.

in a pile of limbs, you collapse onto the couch which squeaks underneath your combined weight. katsuki briefly pulls away from the alluring prison of your kiss— he would have been destined to a life sentence if he didn’t— and rest his head against your shoulder for a moment. 

katuski’s breath is balmy against your skin at the nape of your neck, and if you focus your fuzzy brain hard enough, you can feel his lashes there too. the steadiness of your pulse lulls katsuki closer, the blonde descending on your neck and whining at the taste of your skin spreading across his tongue. the man’s mouth is right against the column of your throat, and he’s embarrassed to admit, he’s had your body committed to memory from the very first night he’d touched you— knowing exactly which spot made you whine and which one had you arching into him too.

there’s an odd sense of tenderness about katsuki as his teeth graze your skin to paint deep shades of purples and blues against it— wet tongue lolling over any bruise he leaves. 

he treated you like a flower left to fend for itself out in the cold, covering you with the heat of his muscled body while your nails scratch down his back and fingers move up to curl in the blonde baby hairs on his nape. “k-katsuki,” the syllables of his name tumble from between your lips wistfully as knocks at your front door echo through the shell of the house. “katsuki…should probably get that, s’probably kiri—“

bakugou who had above you for a moment, his palm resting against the arm of the couch swoops down before you’re able to finish your sentence, delving deep into your mouth, his lips moving feverishly as if to leave one last claim on you. “he can fuckin’ wait, can’t he sweetheart?” he chuckles into the sweltering ambience of the room, licking into your mouth to swallow any protests you may make.

kirishima finds his way into the house anyway, using the spare key under the plant pot to get in as he usually would if you had overslept on days that he came for repairs. or, more recently, when you’d started ignoring him after the dinner incident. he hadn’t expected you to let him in for his job today, but he did plan on apologising for the way he’d treated you up to now.

that is until he catches you mewling on the couch pinned down by the man he hates more than anything in this world, katsuki’s hand practically half way down your panties, rubbing one off on you from under your skirt.

“what the fuck—?”

“don’t get pissed ‘n calm the fuck down, red. you’ll have yer chance with ‘er once i skip down s’dont fuck it up.” bakugou moans into your mouth, showing off a little as he sucks on your sucking on your syrupy tongue. “so either fuck off or come join us, she’d love it. she needs it. don’cha baby, s’fuckin’ pent up, poor thing.”

stepping into the room, kirishima reaches the pair of you in three short strides— using a rough thumb and forefinger to tilt your head over to face him, luring you into a slow and sultry kiss with the flavour of a bad decision. the blonde continues to draw shapes into the crotch of your panties, faster and faster to get you panting and drooling into the redhead’s mouth. your fingers curl in two sets of hair, keeping both of them close to ground yourself and when kirishima finally gives you the chance to breathe, you shyly push their heads together as the temperature of the room rises to a scalding heat.

bakugou makes the first move, cupping the sharpness of eijirou’s jawline and bringing him into a similarly sinful lip lock, dragging the tip of his strawberry tongue over the seam of the other man’s plump lips. “gonna let me in, red? g’nna lemme kiss ya?” he slurs with hooded eyes and a predatory gaze. 

“go ahead blondie, ‘m waitin’,” kirishima goads in response once they’re a breath’s width apart, not giving bakugou any time to dwell on the nickname before they’re kissing welty, all teeth and tongue in an uncoordinated rhythm. 

“f-fuck,” you whimper between the two of them, thighs squeezing together as if to hide the slickness pooling in the middle of them— far too turned on at the sight of them messily making out in front of you.

bakugou laughs at the sound, breaking away first. “she enjoyed that, look atcha pantin’ so fuckin’ nasty, hah?”

“don’t be mean bakugou,” kirishima reaches between his thighs, giving katsuki’s growing hard-on a playful squeeze. “you obviously liked it too.” vivid and merlot eyes drip into something dangerously dark as the redhead palms your other lover faster and faster— dragging salacious moans from between stubborn lips with each precise touch. “yer rock hard blondie, practically drippin’ all over my fingers. c’mere darlin’, feel what a mess you’ve made him.” giving katsuki some time to breathe, eijirou guides the three of you to sit up— your frame pressed between the heat of the two large men before he guides your smaller hand to the erection twitching in the middle of the shorter man’s thighs. 

“feel that? all that from just kissin’ ya doll.” there’s a hint of a smirk tied to the dips and dives of eijirou’s voice as if he’s mocking bakugou, gluttonously drinking up the way you gently pull bakugou’s cock out from his rough denim jeans— a wet patch formed at the crotch from where you’d smeared your pretty panty clad pussy all over him earlier. 

now that you have him in your grasp, you can already tell the difference between the two and their cocks. where bakugou is longer, his tip a shade of terracotta though slightly flushed from him being so aroused, kirishima is chubbier, his tip usually a bright red— harder to stretch around in a way that causes you to remember his delicious burn when pushing into you. bakugou is pretty and kirishima is monstrous. both make your mouth water. 

glancing over to the blonde, you drag your soft fingertips over the slit on his bulbous cockhead— rubbing a thumb through it a little more confidently when he exhales deep through his nose and his tip lip twitches upward, his eyes fluttering shut. “shuddap, kirishima,” he snarls, though the insides of his mouth are coated with a quiet moan just for you. “feels good baby, such a tease. you gonna keep playin’ with me or are ya gonna get me off like the good lil’girl i know you can be?” 

the air of nonchalance about him, despite how bakugou throbs in your hold, has your stomach in desire laced knots— an innate urge to make him feel good taking over you. “fuck that’s good,” he mumbles, opening one eye to look at you, a carnal lechery simmering between the flecks in them as you slowly start to flick your wrist and jerk him off. you smile to yourself after spitting down onto his dick, watching it bob in response before the frothy mixture disappears into his pre that helps guide your hand up and down his shaft.

“awh, come now gorgeous,” kirishima sighs darkly from your other side— again using a soft touch, which contrasts starkly with his rough hands, to pull your focus onto him by cupping your chin. “can’t let the two of you have all the fun. i want some attention too,” 

eijirou makes you watch as he fiddles with his belt buckle to get to his own length— he doesn’t kiss you like you want him to, holding it against you until his girth is free, pinkish tip bleeding with milky arousal as he stands tall and proud, smearing precum against his shirt that covers his tummy. the redhead is cruel as he brushes his lips over yours, goading you, coaxing you to take a hold of him and give him the same treatment as a blissed out katsuki on your other side.

you fist what you can— tiny fingers barely fitting around the entirety of kirishima… but lewd squelches from both of your hands around two cocks only serves to spur you on, making lust bubble hotly under your skin. you alternate between the two boys, thumbing at katsuki’s slit while you squeeze eijirou, drinking up their moans and the way their hips keen into your touch— giving them attention in different ways. and even with them both a wreck between your sticky fingertips, the duo still find ways to dominate you…make you feel like a treasured fuck toy even though they’ve yet to touch you themselves.

kirishima noses up the side of your neck, as if the very scent of you drives him wild and sucks his claim into your skin, grazing you with the tips of his pointed pearly white teeth. “don’t stop now, angel,” he rasps, the hint of a smirk rippling throughout his voice when your breath hitches at the sultry contact. “keep goin’…makin’ us feel so good,” you can’t help the way your body twitches to follow his command, speeding up your gentle fists around them, both sets of your knuckles coated in stringy opaque. “would…fuck, hate to see what happens if you get too distracted…” 

the redhead’s mouth is back on yours before you can register his shift in movement, tongue dragging over the chapped skin of your lips, twisting around your own. “thas’ right baby, s-shut him up…mmm fuck, feels fuckin’ good,” katsuki slurs, blending his words together messily. he’s red in the face and hot to the touch, fiercely bucking his hips in an attempt to keep up with you jerking him off. the softness of your palm messes drastically with the chemistry of the blonde’s brain— altering it’s levels of dopamine until they’re sky high and katsuki feels as if he’s just high off of wanting you. “y’talk too much red, why can’t ya just moan pretty like her, hah?”

crimson cut and covetous eyes flutter open, drifting over to where you play with kirishima too and bakugou would be lying if he said the sight didn’t make him hornier, the glint of your hands covered in arousal causing him to swallow thickly. eijirou grins against your lips, reluctantly letting you free from his sinful hold to cock his head over at your blonde lover. “katsuki, you’re hard as a rock just from watchin’ me with her, d’ya really need to hear me moan for you too?”

“bet you’d sound like a pretty lil’ bitch too.”

“alright,” kirishima hums, finding your mouth again and hisses into it— as if relieved to be making out with you once more. this time he presses his fingers between your thighs, prying them open with a growl when you resist a little. “c’mon sweet thing, lets put on a show f’him, yeah?” the biology of your body tells you that you have no choice, blindly following his domineering lead and falling in tune with eijirou as he guides you into lifting your hips and tears off your skirt and panties in one go. “yeah that's it… you’re so cute, doll, moan a little, tell us who’s makin’ you feel good…”

at first, he spreads your swollen pussy lips apart to give your other lover a nice, nasty view of your juices that slide between them— his eyes goad you, tell you what to do as you quiver and the pad of his thumb slips over your budding clit. “k-katsuki! f-fuck!” you cry out, like the song of an angel, at the same time bakugou groans from deep within his chest.

“look at you baby, grindin’ all over red like that, so fuckin’ pretty,” his breath stutters, cock throbbing and spurting pre in your hold.”‘nd what ‘bout you, red? gonna whine like that for me too?”

kirishima only scoffs, spitting onto your dripping mound and watching as the frothy mixture slowly slides between your folds. he’s quick to gather it up before it hits the couch or your ass, dragging his fingers over your hole as if to push the mixture into you. the very feeling makes you jolt, one hand jumping up and into tousled red locks— pulling on them hard to ground yourself during your spiralling desire and neediness. all the while, you never let up on pleasuring eijirou, though your fist tightens around kirishima’s shaft, as if to mimic your fingers clenching down hard on his thick fingers working their way inside of you.

“katsuki!” eijirou quite literally whimpers, the sound high-pitched and breathy— surprising both you and bakugou. 

bakugou hums cruelly, content with the pair of you calling out for him, toying with one another like cute little sluts just for his amusement. “both of ya need me that badly, huh?” he coos, pulling your hand off of his dick to suck your tiny fingers into his mouth. both you and kirishima watch like dazed animals as katsuki cleans you up, moaning hungrily at the taste of himself. “wanna see you play fer a ‘lil longer. eijirou, use your fingers…and you sweetheart,” the blonde recluse leans in real close, the scent of him mingling with the obvious tones of sex in the air clearing your mind of reasonable thought. “touch yourself f’me…”

the repairman at your side wastes no more time, sinking from beside you to his knees on the floor. kirishima swirls his digits over your entrance once more, threading your slick between them with a hearty grouse tainting his lips. “katsuki, he murmurs, looking up at your face from below. “she’s cryin…” and he’s right, silver tears brim in your waterline as eijirou slips a finger into you and immediately curls it against your slippery walls.

katsuki’s latched onto your neck now, marking over wherever kirishima might have with jealousy-rich blood pumping through his heart. “she can cry all she wants, but it better be from pleasure, red. want you makin’ her see fuckin’ stars,” he warms between licking and sucking at your salty skin. 

kirishima marvels at the creamy, viscous mess growing between your thighs— amazed at how wet and tight you are while he pushes another finger in alongside the first. he’s eager to please, to explore you, blunt tips brushing along your most sensitive spots and even landing on your g-spot almost instantly. 

“she takes me so well too, always does. there you go, darlin’… just like that,” you can’t tell who it is that krisihima is talking to you, whether its you, your puffy salacious sex or katsuki who’s mumbling sweet nothings and praises into your ear. but no matter which way you look at it, the desperate lilt to his voice seems to have only one purpose, and that’s to drive you insane. 

bakugou can’t help but laugh in amusement as you fall apart between the two of them— exploding into a million tiny pieces and letting them put you back together. kirishima pumps his fingers in and out clenching hole while the blonde wraps his hand around your wrist and ushers your hand towards your clit. “touch yourself baby, wanna see you fall apart.” he hums, tongue darting out to wet his lips while you slowly trace shapes on your pleasure nub, blossoming for the boys like a spring flower.

“k-kats…e-eji,” you gasp at as the pair of them pick up their pace, bakugou using your hand to smack down on your sticky bud while kirishima bites down on your inner thigh as if its a fresh fruit for the taking. you bruise, soft like a peach, and he’s quick to soothe the pain sprinkled into your bloodstream with a roll of his greedy tongue over the inflamed area. “i can’t…”

“yes, you can.” the redhead grunts menacingly, the carmine in his eyes darkening with bloodlust while your cunt dribbles and drools into the seat of his palm. you’re close, he can practically taste it— salivating at the scent of your honeyed sex. “gonna cum for us, darlin’?”

your body flashes with heat, like you’re being swept up by an inferno and all you can do is nod weakly in reply— gasping for air, desperate for oxygen to fill your lungs instead of the smoky fragrance that the two men exude. “why don’cha let go for us, sweetheart? be messy, wanna fuckin’ see it.” bakugou adds on, tempting you over the edge with sadistic dip to his tone of voice. it’s low, hot against the shell of your ear and you find yourself unable to resist, giving in to katsuki as well as kirishima.

eijirou scissors his fingers one more time, just enough to get you where you need to be, and then you’re cumming— release crashing over you like a vicious wave amidst a raging storm. pleasure pulls you under, and your body is rendered useless between the two beefy men. shaking, writhing and trembling as bakugou slaps down on your pulsating mound to help guide you through the rest of your high.

“fuck…that’s hot,” kirishima comments wistfully, watching your orgasm trickle down his thick fingers, soaking your thighs. “i gotta…wanna…taste—“

a hand on his forehead pushes the thirsty redhead back, his blonde counterpart snarling in warning. “nuh-uh. s’my turn, shitty hair.”

the next few moments are a whirlwind, your mind still spinning and still heavy from cummings just seconds ago. you’re lifted into a pair of well-built arms, your face tucked into a sturdy chest and you’re not far gone to know who is who. footsteps trek along the creaky floorboards of your childhood home, and you’re familiar enough with the sound to know where you’re headed.

the bedroom.

when you finally come to, eyes fluttering open— bakugou is lying fully naked on his back at the head of your bed, his expression almost as needy as kirishima’s was earlier. “crawl t’me, baby, come sit on my face.” he purrs, chest rising up and down with ragged breaths as the vines of fervour have wrapped themselves around each of his ribs, taking root deep in his lungs.

before you have a chance to respond, kirishima ( who had been holding you this entire time ), unceremoniously tosses you onto the bed to join the blonde— nodding his head over to him. “go ahead, be a good girl for us.” 

you make your way up the sheets, tossing off your top and shuddering as your now bare skin brushes up against the heat of katsuki’s. he welcomes you with a dirty, uncoordinated kiss before guiding you up to and over his face with a pair of rough palms on the globes of your ass. grabbing the headboard, you take a peek down at the ravenous man beneath you, nervousness flickering over your sweat-licked features.

“what’cha waitin’ for, sweetheart?” he mumbles, squeezing your flesh between his fingers in encouragement. “y’don’t think i can take it?”

shaking your head, your lips part in protest. “n-no, ‘m just—“

“sit on him,” eijirou barks at you like its an order, looking up from stripping himself of the rest of his clothes. “he can handle it.”

it amuses bakugou, how thin the other man’s patience has worn and he nips at your inner thighs to test the waters. “you heard shitty hair. sit.” neither of them give you much choice after that, katsuki wrapping his arms around your waist to drag you down onto his awaiting mouth. the entirety of his tongue presses flat against your slit, sucking the juices from them as he groans— sending vibrations straight up to your clit. “god…kirishima, she’s so fucking wet down here.”

“yeah?” kirishima responds huskily, kneeling on the bed behind you both just as you start to roll your hips back and forth across the blonde’s eager mouth. “how does she taste, kats?” the bed dips underneath his weight, with eijirou swooping down between katsuki’s thighs this time, instead of yours. “is she sweet? i wouldn’t know… you wouldn’t let me…”

his words taper off, drowned out by his own gagging as bakugou bucks into the heat of his mouth in surprise. “thas’ a cheap shot, red.” he damn near howls, stuttering as he traces the tip of his tongue over your slit, spelling out his own name and slurping on your lower lips. “fuck thats it… quit yer talkin’ and use that mouth on me.” when kirshima licks, bakugou sucks and each time, a symphony of salacious moans bouncing off the bedroom walls.  katsuki alternates the pressure of his tongue against your clit, dragging the tip of it around the hood of the tiny nub in lazy circles before he forces it past your entrance as far as he can go. 

high pitched moans that burst through the saliva-slicked seams of your lips mingle with eijirou’s gargles from deep throating katsuki, bobbing his head up and down in a steady rhythm before he uses an arm to pin the blonde’s hips to the sheets below. “j-jesus, bakugou,” he pulls off of him with a layer of precum coating his tongue, aggressively spitting it down onto katsuki’s seedy cockhead and making it shine. “you tryna choke me t’death or somethin’?”

“w-what? can’t handle it red?” even katsuki struggles to get his words out, ruby framed eyes disappearing into the depths of his skull between the feeling of eijirou pressing their cocks together and you, gushing all over his lips and chin, glazing in him in your arousal. “thought you were a big boy, thought you could— mmph!”

“shut up,” you wail, tears threatening to spill once more as you force your hips down on the blonde’s face and muffle his speech— ecstasy rolls off of your body in waves, hypnotising the two men who’ve only come together to make you feel good and reach high heavens. “both of you talk too much… i wanna cum.” you gasp out, katsuki’s tongue now wrigglingly against your ribbed walls, making the knot in your lower stomach twist and twist until your insides burn with pleasure. “want us to cum, together.”

chuckling from behind you, kirishima makes a fist around both his and bakugou’s sopping lengths— creating a makeshift fleshlight for the both of them to fuck into. he alternates his grip to mimic the clenching of your raw, puffy mound and his grin broadens against the bare skin of your shoulder blade, causing goosebumps to rise across the expanse of it. “i don’t think you’re in the position to be makin’ any demands, gorgeous,” he coos, slowing down his words as if to dumb them down for you. after all, the way katsuki sucks on your pussy, languidly rolls his tongue between your folds is rendering you thoughtless. your only feedback being made up of pitiful mewls. “but i think your little friend here wants to cum too. and i, for one…well, ‘m hardly holdin’ back here.”

calculatedly, eijirou shushes a thumb through katsuki’s milky slit— spreading the beading precum across both of their cockheads. this earns you the vibrations of katsuki’s whine against your juicy pussy, and the stimulating sound of the redhead’s breath faltering. all you can do is take what your boys give you, the heat of your bodies slotted together sending your internal temperature off the charts. all you can hear is the wet slap of kirishima’s hand has he jerks himself off along with bakugou, their crude mix of frothy white arousal slinging about the place.

they’re a mess, but you’re in no better state than your lovers. the ones that pull you apart with every suck, bite and pinch as you choke or heave and piece you back together just by moaning your name. your body cries out for another orgasm, bakugou switching between leaving lovebites on your inner thighs and nipping at your clit while you tug on his hair— harder and harder each time. your legs shake either side of his head, every drag of his pink muscle in and out of you, fucking you as if it were his cock— drags you closer towards cloud nine. it’s so close you can almost touch it.

katsuki’s hips rut up to meet the slide of eijirou’s cock back and forth against his own, his bright red and almost sore cockhead catching on the thickened blue veins that wrap around kirishima’s shaft. the repairman throws his head back, pearls of sweat dripping from his forehead and running from it, down his throat and right over his adam’s apple. 

you jerk as that same and familiar feeling from earlier begins to simmer in your lower tummy, threatening to bubble over like a pot on a stove if you’re touched just right. you whinge and sniffle the closer you get, one hand raking through katsuki’s sweaty blonde locks and the other bracing your weight on the headboard as you throw your hips and sopping cunt down against his soaked face. “‘m gonna…oh god! think ‘m gonna—!”

connected by a heavy string of your clear, syrupy nectar that flows in streams from your gooey insides— bakugou pulls off of you with a lewd pop, panting for air. “she’s gonna cum, kirishima,” he mewls, lapping at you like a kitten. “wanna…fuckin’ cum with her too.”

“don’ worry, i’m…shit. ‘m right there with you guys,” eijirou sobs, biting down hard on his lip to suppress his pathetic squeaks, flicking his wrist faster, clumsier around their viscid and creamy cocks— desperate to get them both to the edge. “k-katsuki, b-baby!” the redhead chokes on the moan of your name, his orgasm hitting him first as his hot white seed spills over katsuki���s thighs and shaft. the blonde follows suit, back arching off the bed along with his hips as his potent load shoots up your back and adds to the mess.

he groans deep into your cunt, crying out your name as well, weakly. “oh fuck! fuck yeah…”

your orgasm breaks you.

blood rushes through your ears and static crackles across your brain— all that tension, all that ecstasy that’s been building up is finally released. your juices splash out against katsuki’s face, who gulps everything you give him down— three fingers on your clit, rubbing you in tight circles to coax you all the way through. colour dances behind your eyes and you squeal, and shake— collapsing back into kirishima’s plush chest as he catches you before you fall.

you watch contentedly and with hooded eyes, after rolling onto your side ( once again stuck in the middle of your boys ), as they reach over you to share the sweet, candied flavour of you in a kiss. bakugou’s tongue dominates kirishima’s, pushing into the hot cavern of his mouth in a nasty, hungry exchange— riling one another up even though you’ve all just cum. they turn to you next, with rose tinted cheeks and heart shaped pupils to pull you into the kiss as well. ensuring that you get a taste of yourself too. 

now, with the three of you catching your breath against solid sheets, you find yourself calming a bit— letting eijirou trace affectionate patterns into your left side, katsuki beginning to mumble praises to you on your right. “did so fuckin’ well for us, sweetheart, you okay to keep goin’? you came fuckin’ hard.” he’s teasing, you can tell, a bright and lazy smile on his face as he watches over you— the only hint of concern you detect being hidden behind the brownish flecks in his eyes.

“i-i think i can go again, if you both want to,” you say bashfully, pressing a soft kiss to bakugou’s cheek before rolling over to give kirishima the same treatment. “i-i like having both of you fuck me.”

kirishimma laughs fondly, his dick twitching against your side just as katsuku’s does. “is that so?” he inquires coyly, rough fingertips dancing over your slick thighs while he locks eyes with his blonde counterpart— as if to send him a message. “i think we can manage a double stuffin’, since y’want both of us, right?”

“d-double stuffing?” you breathe, brain lagging as you process the words.

the sound of moving fabric does nothing to cover the sound of your heart hammering against your ribcage at redhead’s suggestion, bakugou already shifting to get into position— lifting your thigh and grinding his half hard erection against the wetness of your cunt. “i mean, that’s what yer after, no?’ he chimes in, licking his lips and looking down at you as if you’re nothing but a hunk of prey. “to have both of our cocks, fillin’ ya up’ta the brim. pluggin’ you full.”

“y-yeah…i do,” is all you can respond with, especially with the newer friction from kirishima sliding his cock against katsukis over your pulsating pussy. you gladly bask in their attention. “oh god, i do. i want it so bad.”

someone speaks, but as lust tremors through you like the aftershock of an earthquake, you cant seem to tell who. “then say please.” the voice utters.

“p-please! fucking, please!” you comply, desperate.

“atta fuckin’ girl.” rasps the other voice.

kirishima hooks your knee over the bend of his arm and you end up back to chest with him while bakugou takes you into his arms so that you’re chest to chest for better positioning. his caramel skin is hot to the touch like molten sugar, comforting even when you become hyper-aware of eijirou’s cockhead pressing against your entrance— groaning as he tries to ease past your tightness. 

your nails form reddish crescent moons along katsuki’s biscep as you clutch onto him for dear life, still adapting to the stretch of the redhead behind you as he pushes deeper into your fluttering cunt slowly. “easy red, don’t want you hurtin’ her,” bakugou is gruff with his words and settleshis large and worn down palms on your waist, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your lower back to distract you from the burn between your ruined thighs. 

“i know what she can take, bakugou,” eijirou snaps back, staggering for breath but stops his hips in order to give you time to adjust. “j-just lemme know when i can move, kay baby?” he’s only got the tip in, your hole stinging only just as it resists his intrusion. the slight twinge of pain is enough to bring a fresh set of tears to your eyes but feels significantly better than it hurts.

“s’okay kiri, keep goin’,” you croak and lean forward, too needy to think and capture bakugou’s lips in a chaste kiss. you shiver at the taste of yourself and kirishima’s lip balm on him too. the display of affection is aimless, going nowhere except for consoling you the more kirishima thrusts into you.

a broken moan reverberates between the three of you, planted firmly against the blonde’s lips when your red haired partner finally bottoms out, snug against your slick walls. “shit darlin’…you’re so fucking wet ‘n hot ‘n tight,” he groans, fidgeting against your back. “have i not fucked you enough? poor thing.”

you respond with a sweet little mewl, near purring at the feeling of kirishima’s girth sitting heavy inside of you— practically in your guts even though he’s only shallowly thrusting into you. he whimpers against your shoulder, his grip bruising against your thigh to the point where you’re sure you’ll have handprints on it tomorrow. “kirishima, ya idiot, did’ya put a condom on?” bakugou fumbles for your clit again, tracing his initials over it as if the added stimulation will help. 

“no…you really gonna make me pull out?” he whines like a petulant child.

“s’okay, i just wanna…i need you. both of you.” you plead and cling to him, eyes wide and glittering— pushing back on kirishima and forth on the blonde’s fingers for some friction and some form of pleasure.

the repairman languidly juts his hips forward, smearing his new wave of precum along your ribbed walls, the sound of your laments and simpers syncing up with kirisima’s makes bakugou relent. “fine. but you better pull out before y’get close…” katsuki lets out a hiss, just as his counterpart grabs at his shaft and circles it around your stretched entrance where you and kirishima meet, a mix of your arousals making it easier for bakugou to slip right in. “damn…she’s so cute, y’gotta let me in baby, ease up…”

your body follows his command, relaxing as you slump between the two boys— mind too numbed and dumbed by the pair and their leaky cocks. you can barely move, only jolting with them whenever their dicks brush against each other inside of you. “move katsuki, wanna give her the fuckin’ that she needs.” kirishima pouts, losing his patience again.

the entire world spins, barely preparing you for the feeling of both boys thrusting into you at the same time. everything is so tight, vulgar and souse— neither of them wasting any time in pounding you to hell and back and the bed cries out under the intense and sudden movement, though it isn't any louder than you. when kirishima throws the weight of hips into you from behind, fucking you without thinking, bakugou pushes you back with his own passionate lunges of his hips too. as if they’re fighting for ownership of your spasming cunt. 

you soak their dicks in your honeyed nectar as they pump into you, and bakugou grabs at your waist roughly to stop you from writhing about the place. he quietens his moans with love bites and kisses across your skin, your throat— pulling you down onto his rock hard cock. they stretch you for all your worth, bathing in the essence that you give them all while sharing sloppy kisses from over your shoulder.

its not like you haven’t slept with either one of them before. you’ve spent plenty of nights with your fingers stuffed deep into your needy sex, trying to pleasure yourself to the memory of your first time with bakugou and just as many nights bouncing away on kirishima’s length— filling the void with a melody of your mixed moans. but this is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. being double stuffed by two brawny and beefy men has you losing your very last shreds of sanity with each hard rut into your drenched, convulsing cunt. bright red and lacteal tips brush up against your g spot at the same time, doubling down on the dopamine and rapture tingling in your bloodstream. 

poor eijirou sniffles, cries at how good your pussy grips him as he hits it from the back— his arousal and your juices tangling in his happy trail and slinging between your ass cheeks, glossing you up with a layer of sin. from behind, his palm snakes around your throat, giving it a light squeeze and restricting airflow into your lungs and to your brains. only serving to make you dizzier, easier to fuck. 

on your other side, katsuki drops his grip to play with the cute bubbly flesh of your ass— spreading it apart so he can force himself deeper against your gushing, gummy insides. the further he spreads you, the more of your scent fills the air, accompanied by timbre groans and heavy pants. clear, thick liquid seeps out from between your folds and against katsuki’s tummy which lubes up your tangled limbs. “sweet fuckin’ girl, you feel so good. basically milkin’ us dry,” the blonde praises though his tone is slightly patronising, barely surfacing through his husky sighs. “you like that?” he adds, slowing the roll of his hips to grind up into you, making kirishima growl and you squeak.

“he’s talkin’ to you sweetheart, y’got an answer for him?” the redhead teases, shifting his hand to grab at your tear stained baby fat cheeks to turn your face to him. his chest bristles against your back in entertained laughter, pride dancing in his bright red eyes. “oh poor baby… what’s the matter, huh? you been fucked dumb? too full? god, look at her katsuki. a fuckin’ mess.” he continues to mock you over the sound of skin slapping harshly on skin, nipping at one of your wet cheeks. they cream warmly inside you, backs arching whenever their sensitive cocks brush against one another during your nasty double stuffing.

“don’t be fuckin’ mean eijirou,” bakugou coos to you softly, contrasting to his usual personality and with kirishima’s brashness as they take turns in ravaging you. “she just wants t’cum. don’t worry, angel, we’ll get’cha there.”

“p-please, just wanna be fucked, want all of you. harder katsuki, more eiji.” you beg, tripping over your words as they’re punctuated by your pleasure filled gasps. what you want, they give to you. balls clapping against your ass and your cunt.

the three of you make the trek up to cloud nine, just touching the gates of heaven. your expression is lewd, eyes rolled back in your skull, lips parted and your mouth hanging open— strings of saliva connecting the roof of your mouth to your tongue as it lolls over your bottom lip. bakugou and kirishima press bare down hard on your g-spot, never letting up on it while they angle their hips just right to make you see stars. 

you’re seconds away from erupting, scratching down bakugou’s pecs while reaching behind you to tug on kirishima’s sweaty ruby strands of hair. their hips stutter but still attempt to delve further into your sopping, welcoming heat. “can feel how close you are, doll. clampin’ down on us. gonna make us lose it,” the blonde slurs.

“let go for us, c’mon baby. cum.” kirishima hiccups, working the three of you over the final hurdle— head first into an orgasm.

they pull out of you, as promised, just as you hit your high. your brain fuzzy and cleared of thought as you squirt for the boys, juices tainting their skin. they follow suit, two heavy loads of hot cum soil your thighs, your back and tummy— laying their claim on you for now.

the three of you flop against the ruined sheets, kirishima scoops up the mix of your arousals from the crudeness between you all and holds it to bakugou’s lips. the blonde blinks sleepily but complies, licking the redhead’s digits clean with a satisfied hum. and if you weren’t so fucked out, the view would have made you horny all over again.

“good boy, katsuki,” eijirou smiles, holding down his counterpart’s tongue.

bakugou bites down on his fingers cheekily, brows furrowing once the pink muscle is set free. “fuck you, eijirou.” looking down at you, a quivering cute little mess, and nudges your cheek. “you wanna get cleaned up, sweetheart? or do you wanna sleep.”

“sleep please,”

“‘m down for that. as hot as this was, you guys really wore me out.”

“yeah, yeah. settle down then red. let her sleep, alright?”

bakugou rolls his eyes, unimpressed, but smiling softly and throws an arm over you and the taller man in some form of a hug. completely blissed out, the three of you drift off into a deep slumber.

when you finally come to, one side of the bed is cold and the other warm from where a familiar figure has wrapped themselves around you. like a boa constrictor might do with its own prey.

“hey sleepin’ beauty,” eijirou greets you fondly, brushing a thumb over your pudgy cheek to gently coax you awake. “c’mon, katsuki said i had t’get you to go pee as soon as you woke up. don’t want you gettin’ sick.”

groaning, you rub the crusts of sleep from your eyes and stretch your limbs, sore from the countless rounds of sex earlier. “where is katsuki, anyways?” you mumble back, still drowsy, still clinging to the big muscular repair man in your bed. 

“shower, he woke up first ‘n said he felt gross. try not to miss him too much, darlin’, you have me to keep you company.” he explains as if the two were never at each other’s throats, sinking back into the linens with you and squeezing you close to his chest. you think you could get used to this, the domesticity of it all if the boys can get along well enough, at least for your sake. maybe katsuki wouldn’t have to leave whiteridge, maybe you wouldn't have to leave and the three of you could be like this, together. 

maybe you could help one another grieve in a healthy space. all together, as the found family izuku left you to be.

perhaps, this is the love that you’d been missing. deprived of.

you peer up at kirishima as he cradles you into the molten hot centre of his chest, sitting up with you in his arms slightly. even after everything you’ve been through you think that he’s beautiful, somewhat of a guardian angel to you and you can’t seem to fight the words trapped under your tongue. “eijirou i think i—“ love you. is what you want to say, but those butterflies carrying adoration start to go up in flames. they die under the wave of anxiety that crash over them. crash over you. 

you change your words with your changing mood. “eijirou, what’s that?”

the redhead had been playing with your fingers above the duvet, allowing you to catch a glimpse of his inner wrist. “hm? what’s what, darlin’?” 

there’s a mark embedded into his skin, familiar to you but you can’t quite put your finger on it. you wrack your brain, dash through your memories trying to place the little heart and match it up to what you know. 

izuku comes to mind again, but not pleasantly. he had the same friendship mark, the same blood bond on his inner wrist. you remember it from the files in the autopsy report. they’re practically a perfect match. grabbing the repairman's arm, you inspect it closely, brushing your fingers over the symbol. “izuku. he had one of these…” you whisper. 

“don’t be silly, i’ve had this for years and—“ 

“no.” you retort roughly, springing up from the bed and throwing on the nearest shirt. you ruffle through the papers on your desk until you find the report— frantically tearing out the photographic evidence and shoving it into eijirou’s face. “there’s no way you have the same intricately designed mark in the same place, faded like that. its not just some coincidence—“

panic starts to take over you, your brain running a mile a minute as you try to figure out the biggest question you have. why? 

“baby. calm down. you’re being hysterical.” kirishima says in an attempt to bring you back you down, but he looks tense— scared. he knows what he's said is wrong, highly aware of the minefield he’s just stepped on.

“don’t you dare call me crazy, eijirou. you’ve done it before and i won’t let you do it again.” you growl, protecting yourself from any sensual lies he may try to feed you. “tell me the truth or so help me i’ll scream. when and how did you get that mark?”

bakugou resurfaces from the bathroom, sweatpants low on his hips while he confusedly towel dries his hair. “what’s goin’ on in here? why are you screaming?”

this time, you yank at the blonde’s arm to get a good look at his wrist too— right after you whirl around to face him. you’re sure you look crazed and you don’t have the time to dwell on the fact that he’s still wet, the water droplets on his skin sinking through your clothes. “you…you have it too,” its like a shock to your system. the fact that all three of them have the exact same mark printed against their skin. 

you back away from katsuki, distance yourself from eijirou and tremble right in the middle of the bedroom. your head pounds as you try to figure out the possibilities and put the timeline together. bakugou looks between you and kirishima in confusion, and you watch as his face crumples upon making eye contact with your other lover.

“did…did he tell ya?” katsuki asks hesitantly, frowning deeper when you flinch as he steps towards you.

“t-tell me what?” you breathe out shakily, stomach dropping as katsuki confirms your suspicions. they’ve been hiding something from you. “no one tells me anything in this goddamn place! k-kirishima says i’m crazy, you can hardly look at me when i ask for the truth. i just want to know why you both have the same mark as izuku got on the day he died, why you were with him, why you won’t tell me shit!”

the room falls silent and all the air in it becomes replaced with a tension so thick you’re sure that not even the sharpest tool in the shed could cut through it. eijirou stands up from the bed this time, reaching out for you but you glare at him in warning to stay away. “let’s all just take a breather,” he proposes nervously and holds his hands out in deference. “you’ve had a long night doll, you gotta rest up—“

your face twists in disgust, hardly believing that kirishima would use the fact that the three of you had just had sex as an excuse to deny you the truth. “why do you keep denying me? why won’t you be honest with me?”

why. why. why.

katsuki makes a pained noise, mouth opening and closing as he debates his next words. he says your name welty and remorsefully. “because…we love you too much to hurt you.”

“katsuki.” eijirou says in warning, though he doesn’t rebuke the confession. they love you, they love you enough to lie to you. “don’t.”

“why not?” you fight back, even though you feel like you’re losing the battle already. “i know something went on between the two of you, i know now that my mother wasn’t crazy trying to find out either.” emotions rush through you all at once— guilt, anger, sadness. everything you thought you’d pushed away since leaving whiteridge coming right back to the forefront of your mind— brought forth by the last people you thought would ever hurt you. “if either of you cared about me like you say you do. love me like bakugou says—“

stepping forward and almost crossing your boundary, the redhead cuts you off, his throat dry and eyes wild. “we do!” he exclaims, trying his best to be convincing. “we do love you. i always have, you know that.” he says your name once and for some reason it feels like a punch to the gut, a betrayal to even utter the syllables after lying to you. “y’gotta believe me when i say it…”

“then let me put them to rest, kirishima! stop dodging my questions and being vague. quit gaslighting me into thinking there’s nothing fucked up about what’s going on here!” you argue, not even bothering to stop the flow of tears that fall freely from your glossy eyes. “i just want my mom and izuku to have their peace…and you’re not letting me do that.”

that seems to break something in katsuki. you can almost hear his heart break when he looks at you, like he’s been dying to say it all from the start. if just push a little more, he might crack, if you try a little harder, he might open up to you like you need him too. so you plead with him, try to appeal to the softer side you know exists within katsuki bakugou— hold that metaphorical hand out to him like he’d done for you at your brother’s grave some weeks ago.

“please,” you choke back a sob, not caring if you look insane or if you’re a snotty and teary eyed mess. “i deserve to know. i need to know, and if you have any sense of love for me, you’ll tell me what happened to izuku that day.”

“it was an accident,” he starts slowly, voice raw. bakugou looks like he’s hurting, taken a bullet to the chest as he bleeds his truth out for you. “we…we didn’t mean for it to happen.”

“katsuki, shut up!” 

“kirishima let him talk—“

“—god damn it, eijirou!” spinning on his heel, katsuki directs his frustrations at the latter— seething through his heartache. “quit playin’ around! she deserves to know…t’know what we did.”

kirishima’s lips form a thin line, expression solemn as he visibly gives up— stops building up his happy go lucky wall that keeps you on the outside of it all. it could have been his way of protecting you, like he had said but no matter what side of the card kirishima showed you, you knew in this moment, knew that somewhere in the back of your mind you couldn’t trust him. not anymore. not even if your heart wanted to. 

“it really was an accident,” he croaks after some time, his words punctuated by bakugou’s heavy breathing. “we were with deku that day too, just the three of us. like we always were. y’couldn't separate us back then…even if you tried.” kirishima is wistful as he speaks, almost as if that fateful day was a good one for him. he looks as though he can feel the sunshine on his cheeks and the fresh air in his lungs, hear izuku’s laughter accompanied by the sway of the canopy up above their youthful heads. “katsuki had given us the marking… they were stick ‘n poke tattoos, he stole the kit from the convenience store, you remember that kats?”

bakugou nods his head, but doesn’t dare look at you— aware of the fact that if he does, he’ll shatter like glass under the weight of his own guilt. “i r’member. you cried like a bitch when i got yours. deku…” he laughs, but it’s heartless and cold before he corrects himself. “deku took his like a champ. he was brave like that, the bravest out of all of us.” 

hearing them talk about your brother so softly makes you feel both sick and, in a weird way, happy at the same time. just knowing that even in his final hours he acted the same way as he always did— just like your izuku. “how did you guys end up by the lake?” you prompt. “what about his ankle? the picture my mom had of you guys?” 

the redhead rolls his shoulders, tense as he recalls the story to you. “we weren’t s’pposed to be that at the lake.” 

“w-what?” 

“we were only going for a hike, to izuku’s favourite spot— i swear we were just kids— just being fuckin’ stupid,” bakugou seems more panicked now, as if the memories were too anxiety inducing for even him to bare. “o-on the way up he tripped, i’d been messin’ with him ‘n made deku trip on a fuckin’ rock of all things.”

a rock? that would have explained how your brother had broken his ankle— the thought of his bone crunching makes your skin crawl, imagining his beautiful freckled face twisting in agony only pisses you off. you’re across the room before you can register, gripping him by the shoulders and shaking him. 

“what for? why did you touch him?” 

he’s never seen you so vicious, like a rabid dog pushing the bulking blonde back against the wall. and he lets you, barely putting up a fight. “i-i…” he stutters. 

“it’s because he liked you and deku didn’t approve.” it’s kirishima who confesses this to you and you stop your attack on bakugou to listen attentively— holding back despite your trembles. you hadn’t known the blonde back then, but you remember spots of him in your life. how he’d be kind to you when izuku wasn’t around, how he looked out for you behind the scenes. it hadn’t occurred to you that he might have liked you the way eijirou did, you’d hardly known each other after all. his lack of deku’s approval could been foresight, knowing what all comes next. “bakugou wanted to turn back after it happened, but midoriya insisted on getting to the clearin’ so we carried him up…he wanted to camp out ‘n see the stars that night.” 

“we found the lake by accident tryna find somewhere t’rest before we got there. we stopped and…” kirishima trails off, swallowing thickly and an awful feeling swirls around in your lower tummy. like that feeling you get just before you’re jump-scared while watching a horror movie. you’re stomach drops, your pupils dilate— air becomes scarce to you. 

this is the plot twist, the truth your mother died without knowing. 

“it was an accident,” eijirou repeats the same mantra from earlier, sounding as if he's about to burst into tears. 

“so you’ve said,” you say, voice devoid of any emotion as you wait for the big reveal, for the ball to drop. “what happened, eijirou?” 

“he pushed him.” 

ice runs through your veins— freezing your beating heart in its place as your gaze trails back up to katsuki’s face. he catches you as you stumble and the world starts to spin as if you’ve been thrown on an unstable rollercoaster. “pushed him…right over the edge. ‘cause deku said he weren’t brave enough for you.” bakugou mumbles, plainly— though the rubies in his red eyes are shattered with grief. 

it was stupid. the dumbest thing you’d ever heard— your older brother, the only person who’d ever truly loved you shoved over the edge of a fucking river bank over you. you who didn’t know the two men before you had loved you too. you were the reason eijirou kirishima had let him drown. you were the reason eijirou kirishima had pushed him to his death. 

“t-that doesn’t…that doesn’t make sense!” you try, clutching at your chest because you feel like you can’t breathe no matter how hard you try. something as simple as taking in oxygen and letting out carbon dioxide becomes a chore, eyes darting everywhere around the room only to settle on the man who took your world away from you. “izuku can swim. he could swim!” 

kirishima hiccups, doesn’t dare to move or touch you— knowing that you’ll lash out or tear him apart. “i didn’t mean it, i-i swear, if i could take it back i would have—!” 

“why didn’t you go in after him? why didn’t you save him?” you scream this time, realising the gravity of the situation. realising that izuku, like you now, in his last moments couldn’t breathe. how he’d slipped under the surface of water that’s meant to give life and instead had it taken away from him. he’d been cold, he’d been in pain— suffocating and neither of these men had gone in after him. how could they have possibly claimed to love you after all of this. “you…you murderer!”

even though your knees are weak and wobble, you follow your fit of rage and toss yourself in the redhead’s direction with the intent to kill— probably no better than him. bakugou circles his strong arms around your waist even though you kick and scream and cry, scratching at him until you draw blood. 

“we thought he’d come back up!” the blonde whimpers.

breaking free, you look at bakugou incredulously— like a wild animal in fear and you might as well be. you have no idea what these men are capable of almost a decade and a half later. you sniff, your eyes lined with red and liquid silver tears. “why didn’t you get help?” comes your choked out question.

“we were kids… we thought if we just went home…it’d all be over. that it’d never happened. what else could we have done?” eijirou warbles wetly. you don’t know how he can sit there after all this time and have the audacity cry. how either of them can act like they hid this from you out of love. love isn’t playing mind games or dragging you through rounds of mental gymnastics. love isn’t pushing the person you care for to the brink of insanity.

they don’t love you. 

only izuku was capable of that, it seems. 

“you could have helped him.” you utter quietly— as cold as the thick shards of ice once again guarding your heart. your next movements are quick, have you running on adrenaline and that same desire to escape this town from years ago. you grab what you can, the important stuff— clothes, your laptop and any notes, your mother’s pictures and something to remember izuku by before making a dash for your car. your second great escape. 

the men that you thought you could call your lovers are quick to follow you— calling out your name hopelessly through the loveless walls of your childhood home. every bad memory you thought you’d replaced here turns sour, every second you’d spent between them with katsuki and eijirou garners a visceral reaction from you. you can’t stand to hear their voices anymore, to think about how close you had allowed yourself to be with them. you’d been vulnerable, let them see the deepest parts of you that you’d kept safeguarded for years only to have it shown to the wrong people. 

to have everything thrown back into your face.

defeated tears burn at your tired eyes as you reach your car— fighting with its handle to get inside. you’d never given so much of yourself to other people before, only to find out they were the ones who’d hurt izuku. it breaks you, in the worst of ways— as if someone had taken the delicate vase of your heart and thrown it at a wall. you’re cut by the shards, worn down beyond repair. there’s no coming back from this, to this horrible place. 

“baby…baby please don’t go.” katsuki tells to you as he rushes down from the porch to meet you with eijirou in tow. despair dulls his once beautiful vermillion eyes, but just looking into them hurts you. you can’t trust what they say anymore. “we…we never fuckin’ meant for any of this to happen. to hurt’cha like this. please don’t go. let us make this right. give us a chance. just one—“

“just don’t go to the police.” kirishima cuts bakugou off once they’re fully by your sides, desperation clinging to his voice and ringing out into the night air. “it’ll ruin our lives.”

your actions pause, and you no longer find yourself slipping into your car but instead eerily turning around to face the duo. before you can realise what you’re doing— your hand flies back and lands harshly against the redhead’s cheek, stunning you all into silence. “are you fucking kidding me, kirishima? your lives?” there’s so many years of rage echoing in your voice, a wet tiredness in your face that no one else in the world could possibly relate to right now. his words sting, they fill you with a poison that only blackens your weak heart and you don’t bother to stop the viciousness that spills from your lips next.

“that’s all you can think about? you have no fucking idea what its like to have your life ruined, to live day by day absolutely-fucking-miserable because the only thing…the only person that you lived for, is gone. you don’t know shit about living life or having it ruined.” neither of them think to speak as you rant away, releasing everything you’d ever held back since leaving whiteridge. kirishima clutches his swelling cheek, an expression of regret plastered across his features and bakugou can’t even bare to look at you— gaze focused purely on the dirt beneath his shoes. 

“my brother is dead because of you. he is gone. he’s never ever coming back and it’s all your fault. i hate you. i hate you more than i’ve ever hated anyone in my entire life. both of you.” you spit, slurring over your words, crying the hardest you ever have in all your years of living. you’re still met with nothing, you’re not sure if you even want to hear what they have to say but you keep going, nonetheless. 

“that’s what it feels like to have your life ruined, when there’s no more love left in you. you will never know what that's like…what it’s like to be me. my life, all my hopes and dreams, they were ruined the day you took my brother from me. the day you murdered him.” 

taking a deep breath, you wipe your face on the hem of the shirt you’re wearing and throw yourself into your vehicle, duchess, reviving her up in frustration. kirishima sets his hand on the glass of your window and feebly mumbles your name, bakugou doesn’t budge. you’ve said your piece and now there’s nothing more to it. 

“fuck you. both of you.” you growl as best as you can before pulling out of the driveway and making sure you leave for good. 

you contemplate stopping at the police station, but without their confessions recorded you have as little evidence as your mother did when she fought for the lost life of her son— and you barely have it in you to spend a second longer in this town. god forbid they start calling you crazy too. 

so you drive, you drive through your choked tears and heaving sobs. you drive until you can’t see the sign to whiteridge anymore. you drive until your wrists hurt from holding the steering wheel too tight— and until you feel safe again.

safe like the day you left for the first time, all those years ago. 

your book releases exactly one year and one day from the day you’d left whiteridge for good. 

the loneliness of your luxury apartment deep in the bustling life of the big city had welcomed you back with working heating and open arms— giving you the space to recover from your emotional and mental wounds left on you by two men you thought you could trust. the ones you thought that you could love.

from there, it takes you six months, a shit tonne of black coffee and low-contact with the outside world to fully complete your autobiography. you tell every story you can think of, every lust, every love, every loss and every lie— permanently inking them as your life’s work for the whole world and it’s mother to see. you want anyone who will listen to know your story and know that there’s nothing more the universe could throw at you to mess with you. 

mina receives your full and completed manuscript via email right before she’s due to board a plane with her fiancé hanta sero ( the graphic designer for the cover of all your books, as it turns out ) and both of them drop everything to swing by your place to check that you’re alive and well. you’re far from it, actually. they can most certainly tell by your sunken red lined eyes and your kind-of gross pyjamas that you wear and the litter scattered across your living space— but at that time, neither of them question it. 

sero orders take-out for dinner ( or whatever meal of the day it’s supposed to be ) and ashido cleans up the apartment, before cleaning you up, and together the three of you read through the final transcript. 

of course, she loves it, she holds you when you cry and sero holds her when she cries. they don’t dare to ask you what happened out there, in the small town of whiteridge, its written clear as day in your heartfelt words… but for the first time in your life you feel that people really know you, and genuinely care.

mina gets you the best therapist money can buy after that night.

your book launch comes sooner than expected, and it does better than you expected as well. fans from all over the world sympathise with your story, they mourn the loss of your family right alongside you, they curse the two men you’ve named as ‘red’ and ‘blondie’ and most importantly, they hate the town that hurt you. these days, jirou tells you that almost every establishment in whiteridge has negative reviews on yelp, except for the hotel she runs with momo and denki’s bar right across the street— in fact, both businesses have been skyrocketing since your autobiography hit the shelves.

kirishima calls around that time too. when you answer, the line is full of static crackling over the loud silence and neither of you speak. “finished repairs on your mom’s house today,” he says, floundering for words and time. “think it’ll be up f’sale later this week.”

“thanks, kirishima.”

his breath had hitched at the use of his last name, no sweet pet name, no tone of affection or butterflies in your stomach. “i read your book too.”

“hasn’t everyone?”

“i should have told the truth, i shouldn’t have lied to you,” he goes on, clinging onto one last thread of hope. “then maybe—“

“then what?” you ask slowly, clutching your phone a little tighter. 

“then maybe we could have been something, like we’d always wanted.”

there’s more silence, and then you laugh— brightly, genuinely, rendering the repairman confused on the other end of the phone. “i doin’t think you ever wanted me that badly, eijirou. otherwise, you would have come after me.” you tell him once you catch your breath. “besides, we wouldn’t have worked out anyway.”

“why not?”

“because, even if you’d told me the truth. lying to spare my heart would’ve always been an option to you. you’d never be honest to hurt me and comfort me after— you’re too nice for that. you’d rather not see me hurting at all.” when you explain, he has no answer and your phone beeps signifying another call on another line. “kirishima?”

“maybe… maybe you’re right.”

“i think i am.”

“yeah,” he whispers in harmony with the static. “i guess this is goodbye then.”

“it is,” you whisper back as the beeping gets louder. “goodbye kirishima.”

“goodbye, lil’ midoriya.”

he never apologises after that, and the only time you hear from him is via text regarding the house. bakugou never makes contact with you, and you can’t help but wonder if he even bothered to read your book— that’s if he even knew about it.

according to management, and mina, a book tour was the next and final thing on your agenda before you were allowed a well earned break— the promise of freedom and the time to relax or write something a little less soul-damaging, getting a little closer with each tour stop you make.

“so, when you found out that these two men you’d been falling for had lied to you and hid the truth about your brother, how did you feel? i-i know you talk about it in the book…but i’d gone through something similar a-and i wanted to hear it from you.”

you end up back in the beautiful city you call home for the last tour-stop. the girl who had been asking you the question stands in the very front row, she seems nervous, like she’d been silenced her whole life— and the way she clutches onto your book gives you the impression that she’d found her voice through you. you see your old self in her too.

“well…” you start, carefully folding your hands into the centre of your lap. in the back of the auditorium mina had rented out for the event, the door swings open, and you swallow thickly as it reveals a pair of familiar and daunting red eyes. “well, to be honest… i felt the greatest loss i’d ever felt in my life.” you muse out loud, refocusing your attention to the timid girl in front of you. “you’d think, after everything i’d seen and been through, that i wouldn’t be able to feel anything aside from numbness at that point. i’d spent years of my life trying to fill the hole izuku left…that my mother left too. and to be betrayed like that? well you might as well have cut open my chest and ripped my heart out.”

the audience applauds your monologue, and the girl thanks you sweetly but most of it falls on deaf ears before your next question— those same red eyes locking with yours once again, saying only one thing.

‘i’m sorry.’

after your talk, there’s a two hour book-signing and you don’t expect your unexpected guest to be leaning against the wall, waiting for you outside, once everyone has gone.

“you didn’t want your copy signed?” you ask with a tiny hint of amusement, leaning against the opposite wall to your visitor. “i think i still have some ink in my pen if you do.”

adjusting his cap on his head and holding out his copy to you, bakugou scoffs but mirrors your playfulness with his signature toothy smirk. “don’t do too well with crowded spaces, so i figured i’d wait until after,” your fingers brush only just as you take the book from him and scribble your name across the first page with your dedication to both izuku and your mom on it. “was an amazin’ read, by the way, i loved the endin’— how y’solved yer own mystery ‘n shit. the girls at work loved it.”

looking up from the printed version of the story of your life, you give bakugou a small smile. “mystery and misery do seem to go together.”

“ya still miserable?”

“sometimes,” you admit to the blonde a little too quickly for your liking. “but i have more good days than bad now. what about you? is whiteridge still as shitty as ever?”

“nah,” katsuki hums proudly and matches your smile. it’s nice to see him happy, after to so long— but maybe a part of you is a little glad to see him when you should be hating him. “moved outta that shithole ‘bout six months ago. i live here in the city now, ‘n work in a small family owned restaurant downtown. they serve the best fuckin’ pork katsu you’ll ever have...”

you wrap your arms around yourself, a shiver running through you despite how warm the building is. your mom used to tell you that those random cold shivers were the spirits making their presence known to you— so you think that izuku might be watching right now. “i’ll have to try it someday,” comes your quiet voice.

“you’ hafta lemme take you sometime soon—“

“i don’t mean to be crass, bakugou, but...what are you even doing here?” then the conversation goes quiet.

you’ve come to hate the sound of silence these last few months— no one who knows you, no one who loves you knows what to say to you anymore.

your silences are no longer filled with the click and clack of a keyboard because you no longer have anything to write about, they’re no longer broken up by text chimes or ringtones because you’ve cut off kirishima and he used to call you almost everyday, they’re no longer filled with the laughter you would share from bantering off of bakugou. there’s no one to occupy your silence except for the frenzy of your own mind, because izuku is dead, your mom is dead and it’s just you now. 

but then, bakugou speaks up— rasps through the heavy hushness for you, reaching out for you like he always does. “i-i don’t fuckin’ know,” he begins aimlessly. “i wasn’t even s’pposed t’be here, ‘m meant to be on dinner service tonight but i got an ad fer ya book signin’ on the way over ‘n just…called in sick,'' the world comes to a standstill as he explains himself to you, the blonde is right in front of you but feels a million miles away all at the same time. katsuki looks to the ceiling, as if you’ll be scorched by his gaze. “i had this whole plan in my head, of what i was gonna say t’you when i got the chance, but now that ‘m here…well ‘m.. fuckin’ blankin’!”

“i don’t… i don’t need a long-winded monologue from you, katsuki, i just need to hear you say it and know that you mean it.”  your voice trembles with the threat of crying, tears already forming in your waterline. 

you don’t need much, is what you tell yourself, as bakugou’s mouth opens and closes— formulating the words, finding the right order to put them in. you just need one more ounce of truth. you’ve been given the bare minimum almost all of your life, but this is the highest standard you’ll ever hold someone to. taking accountability for hurting you.

katsuki takes a step towards you, and another more confident one when you don’t move. “‘m sorry,” strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you into his safety net of an embrace, one of his hands cupping the back of your head. “‘m sorry for all the fuckin’ pain i put you through, never wanna see you that hurt ever again.” you melt into him, tears falling freely as bakugou fights back his own. “i stayed away f’too long, tryna figure out if i was worth forgivin’, if i deserved a second chance but i know now… it was never about me. you jus’ needed me to apologise. so ‘m sorry, to you, your mom and to izuku.”

katsuki bakugou says it all, everything you’ve been needing to hear from every adult in your life since you lost your brother— so clutching his shirt tight between your fingers, you pull him into you, letting your eyes bore deep into his own. in the life you’ve lived, you’ve had to learn how to read people, see through their eyes to know what they truly mean and think when they look at you.

but staring into katsuki’s right now, all you can see is the honesty in them— intertwined with the dark brownish flecks that contrast with their rich vermillion colour. he truly means it. 

he’s truly sorry.

and with that, you lean up and press a feather light peck to his lips, feeling him tremble in your hold before hesitantly melting into you— saying the words he needs you to say. 

“i forgive you, katsuki, we both do.”

END.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #kirishima smut #kirishima x reader #bnha smut #bakugou x you #kirishima x you #bakugou katsuki smut #bakugou fanfic #bakugo smut #bakugou katsuki x reader #eijirou kirishima smut #mha smut #bakugou imagine #bakugou angst #kirishima imagine #bnha x reader #mha x reader #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki #tw: character death #tw: dark themes

[ellewritesalright]

Nine Long Years - Part 7/?

Nikolai Lantsov x Rietveld!reader, Kaz Brekker x sister!Rietveld!reader (platonic)

Part 1 --- Part 2 --- Part 3 --- Part 4 --- Part 5 --- Part 6

Synopsis: After watching your brothers die, you found yourself working on the Volkvolny. In the many years since then, you somehow became the queen of Ravka while your brother somehow survived firepox and life in the Barrel, rising through its ranks. In disguise during a diplomatic trip with your husband Nikolai, you meet Kaz Brekker for what you think is the first time, only to find out that he is your long-thought-dead little brother.

Author's Note: Well... long time no see. I'm happy to finally share this part. it's been several months in the works since I have been very busy with college. So thank you to all who have stuck around. This part takes place around the start of the Ruin and Rising book, and is a fair bit shorter than the last few parts have been (btw I can't believe I've written over 40k words for this series) but I hope you all like it. I went a bit easier with the angst than I expected by giving these two a slight break

Warnings: mentions of death, angst and fluff, mentions of sickness, injury, panic attacks, firepox. If I'm missing something pls lmk

Word Count: 3,570

……….

SIXTH YEAR

Genya's handiwork stung. Though she was fixing your injuries, the nature of her Corporalki abilities was that she had to undo your injuries in a similar process as their infliction. You tried not to complain as she treated your fractured and cut shoulder, but you were still swallowing back a scream. Tamar ran a soothing hand along your head as she and Tolya held you down.

"Hold still for me." You could vaguely hear Genya say.

You gave a slight nod, all you could manage at the moment. The pain was excruciating. There was fire all along your shoulder blade and up and over to the corner of your collarbone where the Darlking's nichevo'ya had clawed at you. Like sticking a red hot iron to flesh. You were biting down so hard on the handle of Tamar's axe that you thought you might break a tooth. The Tailor's hands hovered over your shoulder and your body jolted but Tolya tightened his grip.

Everything was dark. It never occurred to you how musty and dank an underground tunnel system would be. You'd never considered a place like this could even exist. But here you were, below ground, in the darkest, dankest little "room" you'd ever been in. And no amount of candles or incense trays staved your new fear of the dark.

When you closed your eyes, you could see Nikolai. The way his eyes frantically found yours across the room. How he screamed when his brother was torn apart by the Darkling's shadow creatures. The silent nod of understanding as you guarded Alina while he helped his parents escape.

You wondered where he was now. With any luck, Nikolai escaped on the Kingfisher. He was safe and sound and able to fight the war while Alina and the rest of you were all underground. He had to be safe. Saints above and below, by the grace of Ghezen, and on the holiness of even the Fjerdan god, he had to be safe.

Because if he wasn't, you simply wouldn't know what to do. 

You felt the pain end, and you glanced back at the trio of corporalki behind you.

"There," Genya spoke softly, easing her hands away from your shoulder. "This is about all I can do. The scarring doesn't go away completely."

Her eyes dropped in shame, one of the scars on her cheek pulling as she frowned slightly. Tamar and Tolya had released you, and you sat up. You gently took Genya's hand, giving her a grateful smile.

"You've healed me to full strength, and that's all that matters," you said kindly. "Thank you."

She smiled back at you.

……….

Time blurred together underground. You were still guarding Alina, and you'd constantly accompany her through the elaborate tunnels. You didn't trust the Apparat running this little underground cult. He had come to Alina's aid, that was true enough. But there was no doubt in your mind that the snivelly, power-hungry little man had some ulterior motive. Nikolai had told you about him many years ago while at sea.

"The religious counsel to my father is a weasel of a fellow. That man would bite the head off a live snake if it meant he would gain control of a single chapel, let alone the whole of Ravka," Nikolai said of the Apparat. 

You could only hope Alina wasn't the snake in this case.

You worried for your sun summoner. It was no wonder that you all looked worn after your fight with the Darkling, but most of you had healed up despite your weariness. Yet Alina didn't seem to recover. She had lost use of her summoning in the past few months. It was difficult to say if that was because you were so far away from the sun, or because of the strain from her last fight with the Darkling; either way, you'd never seen her look so pale and sickly. 

"It doesn't seem like anything helps her," Mal worriedly whispered to you one evening as you two ate off to the side of the usual huddle your group maintained. "Not water, or food, or any sort of activity."

"She probably just needs sun," you said, trying to ease his mind. "Once we figure out how to escape this place, we'll get her above ground and she'll be better."

"What if that's not all? When she fought the Darkling--"

"Don't think on it, Oretsev." You cut him off. "That's no way to be, with your worrying. We'll get her out, and she'll get better. That's it."

Mal let out a long sigh and went back to eating.

Your words had carried conviction. You had no idea how your group would escape, but you didn't mention that. It was all you could do to lift your friends' spirits, even though you were as unsettled as you'd felt since you were a girl in a Ketterdam harbour.

In the evenings, you roomed with Tamar and Tolya. Often sleeping between them, their breathing--and Tolya's snoring--reminded you that you were alive and somehow safe, no matter how temporary.

But even so, the dank underground smelled like death. It was like you were back on the cobbles of Ketterdam, seeing your brothers in every corner of every dark cavern in this place. They haunted you, even here. And, with no one to distract you from them, no one to hold you and reassure you that you weren't at fault for their sickness, their ghosts dogged you all hours of the day.

There were a few children underground, and sometimes when they'd cry you could just feel the sobs your baby brother cried against your shoulder when Da had passed away. You could taste the sick you emptied into the harbour after you lost your brothers. 

It occurred to you that maybe this was your lot in life; maybe you were just meant to be haunted. You were plagued, for lack of a better word.

You couldn't count how many times a day your mind strayed to Nikolai. Worries or memories would surface, and you were unable to stave them just as you couldn't stave thoughts of your family. Truthfully, you didn't want to keep them at bay anymore. If you could die tomorrow and join your brothers, you would rather die with Nikolai in your thoughts than with nothing but fear and grief dogging your brain.

The anger you'd harboured for Nikolai had vanished. Your grudge seemed so insignificant now that you were separated like this. Everything seemed insignificant when you were trapped in a tomb.

At night the only reprieve you had from all the ghosts was when you'd finally fall asleep, your fingers clutching Nikolai's ring on the chain around your neck. 

……….

When you and your friends finally surfaced again, it was a mad dash escape from that weasel and his cult. 

You were running through some forest with them. You had no idea where you surfaced, all you knew was that it wasn't just the Aparat's cult after you, but a sect of Vasily's old Grisha-hating First Army. The soldiers were hot on your tails as you dashed through the trees. Tolya and Tamar were on your right, Genya was to your left, and Alina and Mal were slightly ahead of you. Shots were being fired behind you, and you weaved and ducked to avoid bullets as you ran aimlessly. Some of the Grisha you were travelling with used their skills to take on those in pursuit of you, but there were too many of them. 

Just when it felt as though you would never make it out of this forest and away from the soldiers, you heard a familiar shouting of command. Repeat revolvers starting gunning from above, and you grabbed Genya and ducked to the side as the Kingfisher flew overhead, taking out your remaining foes. 

It was all a blur as the flying ship landed. Your mind was whirring as Genya helped you to your feet, guiding you to the ship. You watched the others climb aboard, then you took your turn as well. As you clutched the wooden rails, you remembered the last time you'd been on this vessel, how you fell asleep below deck, curled up against Nikolai.

Nikolai.

As soon as he reentered your mind, your head was whipping around to catch sight of him, for surely he was here. It didn't take you long to hone in on him. He was speaking with Mal, grim expressions on both of their faces. Alina was there too, guzzling down a water flask; she looked automatically healthier now that she was out of the dirt and into the sun, but still not at full strength. Your eyes went to Nikolai again, and he seemed to be glancing around as well. When his eyes locked on yours, you swore you almost started to cry. The tension in his brow loosened, his strong shoulders relaxing for a second before he quickly excused himself from Mal and Alina. He strode directly over to you, bracing you in a hug. You clutched him back, face bundled in his chest as he gripped you so tightly.

There was a long moment in his arms as you embraced, but you both needed it. You'd gone months without knowing if each other were alive, much less alright.

"Thank every Saint that ever was," Nikolai chuckled in relief as he held you. He leaned back, bracing your arms. He noticed the rip in your jacket where the nichevo’ya had cut up your shoulder in the chapel. While the cult was able to provide a new shirt and trousers for you, there'd been no replacement jacket for you underground. "That's no good. Here." 

He shed his military coat and slung it over you. He dusted off the sleeves as you just stood there watching him. You'd almost forgotten how warm his hazel eyes were.

"Are you alright?" He whispered, his hands still holding to your forearms almost as if reminding himself that you were really there in front of him.

There was no way to tell him about your time underground, about the scar on your shoulder and the feeling that maybe your whole life was just haunted. It took everything in you to reply with hope.

"Better now," you whispered back, nodding softly.

He smiled regretfully at you. You knew him well enough to know that he had something to say, but you weren't going to pressure it out of him. The last time you'd seen him you were still upset with him over his engagement–something that felt inconsequential now. Months away from him had turned your anger to dust, and now you just wanted to wipe clean and move on as best as you could--with or without him.

Nikolai looked at you for a moment, then hugged you again. He whispered something in Kerch, an old saying that you could remember your Ma and Da saying to one another when you were younger and your world was a farm and a family that was whole.

"My soul knows no richer than yours," he muttered into your ear, speaking your native tongue in his pretty lilt.

You teared up slightly. Your hand made a weak fist against his chest as you replied in Kerch. "You're infuriating."

"I know." 

He cupped your cheek, and you leaned into his palm, staring at his soft hazel eyes.

"Go below deck, and I'll join you in a moment, alright?" He whispered kindly.

You nodded and made your way below. It took Nikolai longer than expected to join. There were others below deck, a few injured Grisha and Nikolai's First Army soldiers being tended to. You watched bones being reset, blood being transferred, and breathing assisted. You flinched as one of the soldiers coughed up blood, making a hauntingly familiar noise. Just as you looked away for fear of nausea, a hand grabbed yours. Nikolai had sat down beside you, and he gave your hand a comforting squeeze.

He let you lean into his side as the two of you sat there in silence.

……….

The Kingfisher flew for nearly a half hour more, but Nikolai stayed with you below deck until they had to dock the flying ship. When you arrived at the Spinning Wheel, there were lots of Grisha-friendly First Army there to greet everyone. The rescued were all led to different rooms, and as someone approached you to get you settled, Nikolai murmured something to them. They nodded and helped you through the winding hallways. You were given a bedroom with an adjoining bathroom, and you wondered what you'd done to earn a private space like this. Surely many people at the Spinning Wheel had to share rooms. 

Once you were alone, you shed your dank, dirt-covered cult clothes and discarded them in the bedroom while you ran a bath for yourself. 

As you sank into the warm water you let your mind settle. It felt odd to feel safe again. After your time below ground, you didn’t know when you’d feel this way again, but you were grateful it was now.

There was a soft knock on the bathroom door, and you heard Nikolai's voice.

“I took your clothes to the washers and brought you clean trousers and a shirt. I'll leave them just outside the door here for when you're finished your bath," he said kindly.

"Thank you," you called out, your voice slightly unsteady. 

The thought of Nikolai on the other side of the door made your heart race. There was something about the moment that felt distinctly like your first trip to West Ravka back when you began to know him more as Nikolai than Sturmhond. The separation by only a door felt as excruciating as it used to feel watching him get into bed beside you without being able to reach for him. Prudence and politeness governed you both so strictly back them, and it had taken reign once again.

You shut your eyes and tried to relax some more in the bath, but your peace had shattered at the thought of Nikolai being so near yet so out of your reach.

You huffed to yourself as you got out of the bath and dried off. You took the clothes Nikolai had left for you and dressed yourself. The layers of soft white linen were slightly thin, but certainly not unappreciated. After months in the same clothes that you were rarely allowed to wash, you were overdue for something clean and fresh. 

Without realizing it, your feet carried you to your bedroom door. It wasn't as though you knew where anything was in this place, but you twisted the knob and stepped into the hallway anyways. You made it two steps before you realized he was there, leaning against the wall beside your door.

"Hi," he said, blushing slightly.

You nodded at him. "Hi."

"Can we talk?" He asked, his eyes earnest.

You nodded again, stepping back into your room and letting him follow.

There were no other chairs or seating in the room, so you sat on the edge of your bed.

Nikolai sat a respectable distance beside you. "I wanted to tell you that--what's this?" 

His eyes were on your shirt's wide collar, where the edge of your shoulder scar peeked out. You hooked a finger into your collar, pulling it to show a bit more of the scar as you angled your back to him too.

"Oh… it's from the nichevo’ya. One just barely nicked my shoulder as we first escaped into the tunnels." You felt a slight sting as he gently grazed his thumb along it. You relished his touch and the reminder that he was alive and with you so much so that you didn't even mind the sting. "Genya says it's permanent."

"I should have been there," he murmured.

You shook your head, turning back to look at him. "No, I'm glad you weren't. You needed to be above ground."

"I should have been with you." His eyes had that earnest look crossed with slight guilt.

"You had to get your parents to safety and rally what was left of the First Army, Nikolai."

"I wanted to be with you." He said as he held your hand, interlocking your fingers. "You're the woman I love, and I thought of you every second of every day I wasn't with you. Saints, I need you more than I need air."

You leaned closer to him, pressing your forehead against his collarbone. It wasn't meant in any romantic way, more just as a silent way to express that you loved him too, that you cared deeply for him. He brought his one arm around your shoulder as the other still held your hand.

"That's why I'm not going through with it," he said, and you could feel the rumble of his words against your head.

"With what?" You whispered.

"The engagement with Alina."

You leaned back slightly to look in his eyes. "What?"

He thumbed along your cheek. "Once the war is won, Alina and I will not be getting married. She and I have spoken already."

"But what about the unification of Ravka and the first and second army?"

"That can happen some other way." He looked deeply into your eyes. "But once we've won this war, I only want one thing."

You sighed and gave him a sad smile. "Niko–"

"Will you marry me?"

Your breath caught in your chest.

There was a time you thought he would ask you this, before you landed in Ravka more permanently, before you got launched into this war against the Darkling. But you knew he still had his ambitions.

"Is it because your brother's dead? Because you're guaranteed to be king now?" You asked.

He sighed and shook his head. It was hard to tell if he'd expected any apprehension from you. "It's because I love you. More than anything else I could ever think of. When I first arrived at the Spinning Wheel, everyone else whined about the cold of the mountains or the fact that they missed tea service and their evening kvas, but all I missed was you." He gently squeezed your hand. "Every day I spent not knowing if you were safe, if you were alive… I could barely sleep, barely eat… You're all I could ever want."

The look in his eyes was reminiscent of his soft yet resolute stare when he’d placed that crown on your head. It felt like a lifetime ago that he whispered honey in your ears and you listened without a shred of apprehension. But right now this wasn’t honey. This was raw. This was real. This was Nikolai in a state of total resolve. And you knew you wouldn’t be made a fool if you accepted him.

"I am all you want?" you whispered in response, your lips curling upwards slightly.

"You are. I want to spend my life with you," he smiled. "Will you marry me?"

“Yes." You nodded, a full smile forming on your lips. “I'll marry you. Of course I will.”

Nikolai broke into a grin. He cupped your cheeks and kept grinning at you, his eyes locked with yours. “Saints, I love you more than anything.” He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead, then dipped down to capture your lips.

It was the first you’d kissed him in months and months. Truly, you hadn’t felt his lips on yours since before you’d crossed the fold. It ignited a forgotten hunger in you, and you kissed him back with a deep longing.

“I missed you,” he murmured as you pulled back for a moment. You noticed tears in his eyes. “I was so stupid, and I’m sorry for how I treated you. I never should have proposed to Alina, or made you feel like I only wanted you in secret. I want you, I’m proud to want you, and I never want my love for you to be a secret. I want you as my queen–my truest companion, as you have always been. I just… I want you.”

You kissed him again, wrapping your arms around him. You leaned so far against him that he rested his back against the headboard, bringing you with him. You missed the closeness with him, the intimacy of being pressed into his body as you kissed. Your fingers threaded into his golden hair as you sighed into his soft lips.

“Do you forgive me?” He whispered and you took in a breath.

Your fingers idly traced the skin right above his shirt collar. “I’ll forgive you once you get me a ring and make it official.”

“I gave you a ring years ago, my dear.” His finger went to the chain around your neck, and he pulled it loose from under your shirt, making his old silver ring dangle between you. “One could argue that we’ve been engaged all this time.”

“Then one could also argue that you were most definitely cheating on your fiance when you proposed to someone else,” you smirked at him.

“Ouch. I deserved that,” he chuckled.

He cupped your face again, his palms warm against your skin.

“I’ll get you a new ring. Something regal and fit for the most beautiful queen Ravka will ever know, moi tsaritsa.”

You smiled and leaned down to kiss him again. “Good.”

..........

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Feel free to like, reblog, and comment on this new part--I really appreciate the feedback! If you want to be tagged in this series or to be added to the Nikolai taglist please comment on this part or send me an ask. Otherwise, I hope you have a great day/night :)

Masterlist

Taglist: I will reblog this part with the tags because there's too many of you to tag and tumblr won't let me do it all at once :)

#nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov fanfic #nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai lantsov fic #grishaverse fanfic #nine long years