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malice-ov-mercy · 6 months

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Somewhere Along the Way - Part 5: She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not

Pairing: Will Ramos x fem!Reader

Content Warnings: 18+!, a little angst, oral (male and female receiving), fingering, praise kink

A/N: I worked on this particular part for two weeks. I also wasn’t going to use this pic, but uh it kinda fits a scene soooo….. strap in cuz it’s a fucking long one but well worth it. It’s the final part, so I hope you enjoy it :).

Word Count: 6.1k

Tag List: @circle-with-me @witchyweeb34 @xxrainstorm @sammyjoeee @littlefoxkota @cookiesupplier @bngurngheart @nyxthedestroyerofworlds @lacktoesandtoddlerants @foliosriot

If you would like to be added, please let me know for who! If you tell me everyone/everything, just know that includes anything I may write for Bad Omens AND/OR Will Ramos.

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Will Ramos Masterlist

Somewhere Masterlist

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While Will showered, I took it upon myself to start unpacking for him. There was a lot, so I knew he’d greatly appreciate it. I didn’t touch any of his gear or equipment since I had no clue where any of it went. I expected the smell of his tour and stage clothes to be worse, but I still scrunched my nose when I opened the suitcase. I sorted through everything, compiling the dirty clothes in a neat, organized pile to be washed whenever Will got the chance.

I opened a smaller bag, finding toiletries and an assortment of hair care products. Either he forgot to grab it, or he had more in the bathroom. I decided to leave the contents inside, setting it on his dresser and rummaged through my own stuff for some pajamas. I settled for an oversized t-shirt.

“(Y/N)?”

Will’s voice accompanied his knock on the door.

“You can come in!” I hollered.

“I forgot my hair goop.”

“Goop?” I snickered, grabbing the bag of his hair care products.

I turned to hand him his bag and my breath caught in my throat. Will’s hair was sopping wet. Water droplets dripped onto his shoulders, trickling down his bare chest. A towel hung loosely—and lowly— around his hips, his v-line exposed. He might’ve as well not been wearing one.

I didn’t realize how blatantly I was staring until Will grabbed the bag from me, an amused smirk on his face.

“You’re staring, flower.” He teased.

“Sorry. I—“

Will chuckled fondly and pecked my lips.

“It’s fine. I don’t mind.” He reassured me. “You can stare as much as you want.”

Will gave me another chaste kiss followed by a wink before leaving.

I buried my face in my hands. My face burned fiercely. I knew I was as red as the roses Will gave me.

———

I found any excuse I could to busy myself so I didn’t think of Will. I reorganized his pile of clothes about three more times. I peeked in his other bags to see if there was anything else I could sort through and put away. I even sorted through my own bag to make sure I had everything packed to leave tomorrow. Nothing I did scrubbed the image from my mind.

I breathed shakily as I fidgeted with the two bouquets of flowers on his dresser, ignoring the ache and dampness growing between my legs. The scent of the tulips and roses was pleasantly overwhelming, helping to calm my nerves. I needed Will to hurry so I could go make a beeline for the couch and get to sleep.

“There’s nothing better than a shower after a tour.”

Will’s voice tore through the silence in the room, startling me. I glanced at him then quickly busied myself with the flowers again when I saw he was still sporting just the towel.

He stepped behind me and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. His body was enticingly warm. My eyes fluttered shut as I subtly inhaled the scent of his body wash. It was a stark contrast to the soft floral aroma in front of me.

“Do you like your flowers?” Will whispered in my ear. His fingers grazed my skin as he brushed my hair away from my neck.

“Yeah.” My reply was breathy.

He hummed, lips ghosting across my nape.

“I like mine too.”

My fingers gripped the edge of the dresser when he pressed a hot, breathy kiss on my neck. His hands slid over my chest, just barely above my breasts. He trailed his hands down my arms, his touch gentle and soft. Will closed the already minuscule space between us, his chest flush to my back, fingers lacing with mine. Heat from his body against mine enveloped me, turning my blood hot.

“You’re sleeping with me, right?”

The low rasp in Will’s voice and innuendo went straight to my core. Regardless of whether or not he meant it the way I interpreted, my heart and mind started racing. It was impossible to decipher any of the thoughts in my brain. They were loud but incoherent, tangled in variously complicated webs. The voice in my heart, however, was the loudest it's ever been. It knew what it wanted and what it forever and always wanted was presenting itself, finally. But the noise trapped in my skull won in the end, and hesitation spoke.

“I’m fine with the cou—“

My sentence was cut short by Will biting my neck, eliciting an unexpected, quiet moan from my throat. He rutted his hips against my rear. I could feel the outline of his semi hard erection confined under his towel.

“Will,” I don’t know what I wanted to say.

“Yes, flower?” He husked.

“I…” I still had no clue what I wanted to say. My mind went blank.

Will spun me around so I was facing him. Without much thought, I rested my hands on his hips, pulling them flush against mine. I noticed him clench his jaw as he brought his hands to my face.

“We shouldn’t.” I whispered, sneaking my index fingers in the towel.

“We don’t have to.” Will stared deeply in my eyes.

His eyes always put me in a trance. They were so inviting and sweet and kind. The cacophony of shouting silenced for a moment while we gazed at each other. There was a thread holding me together, and I felt it fray the longer we stayed like this.

“But I want to.”

I threw my arms around his neck and pulled him into a bruising kiss. He groaned into my mouth, not wasting any time in tangling our tongues together. He held a vice-like grip on my waist. The voice in my head was now much clearer and yelling at me to stop, but I willfully chose to ignore it.

It got louder as I pressed against Will, pushing him back towards his bed, toppling onto the mattress. I pinned him down with my legs, straddling him, grinding down on his erection. His nails dug into my skin. He forced my hips down, rocking them forward and back while he arched, shamelessly and desperately rutting against me. My pussy throbbed and clenched. I was grateful for the towel between us because I didn’t want him to know just how wet seeing him in just a towel made me.

I moved my mouth to his jaw, nipping softly and leaving a trail of wet, open mouthed kisses all over his neck. His tattoos would likely mask any marks I made, so I wasn’t shy or soft with my bites. I scraped my teeth down to his collarbone, nipping every inch of his chest.

His hold on my hips was starting to hurt. I managed to free myself from his death grip, and lifted myself slightly, just enough to slip my hand between us, and started palming him. Will’s heavy breaths filled the room. I reached for the slit in the towel, slipping my hand inside when I found it.

An airy gasp escaped Will as I wrapped my fingers around his cock. He thrust lightly while I leisurely stroked a few times, long enough to tease and be rewarded with a quiet whimper when I stopped. I brushed my lips below his collarbone, ghosting soft kisses down his chest, down to his belly.

This was the only place I could completely ravage with lovebites and bruises, and I intended to do just that. I covered every blank spot of his skin, biting and sucking after every kiss. His taut ab muscles flexed under my lips.

I ventured further south, getting closer and closer to his dick. I peered up at him as I took him in my hand again.

“This towel might be a problem.” I said coyly.

Will lifted his hips so I could fully free him from the thick fabric. His gaze held firm on me as I slowly brought his dick to my lips. Precum was leaking from the tip. I tentatively licked it clean then closed my mouth, swirling my tongue all around.

“Shit.” He panted.

The sound transformed into a low groan as I lowered, taking him fully in my eager waiting mouth. I bobbed slowly, enjoying the quiet little gasps tumbling from Will’s lips. He thrust his hips, urging me to go faster. I picked up my pace and hallowed my cheeks. My tongue curved and pressed against the underside of his shaft.

“Oh fuck,” Will groaned. “That feels so good. Just like that.”

I purred at the praise. His fingers threaded in my hair; the tender caress of his hand at the back of my head had my skin buzzing. I dropped my jaw and once again filled my mouth entirely with his length. The tip of his cock hit the back of my throat. Saliva pooled at the corners of my lips. The sound of my gagging prompted Will to hold my head in place.

“You sound so pretty choking, flower.”

He kept me there, relishing the sound of my struggling. Tears pricked my eyes. I tapped Will’s hip and took a gasp of air. Drool and spit covered my mouth and chin.

“Look at you. Such a messy girl.” His heated gaze made my stomach flip.

I gripped his spit slicked dick and began stroking him, twisting my hand as I pumped. A strained sigh emanated deep in his chest.

“You’re doing so good, flower. Could you do that while you blow me?” Will asked.

Who was I to say no to that?

I happily obliged. Will’s chuckle at my eagerness swiftly switched to a pleasure filled moan as I closed my mouth around him again, closely following the movement of my hand. His hand gripped my hair and set a quick pace. Every time his cock hit the back of my throat, I groaned, hoping he would shower me in more praise— or at least be rewarded with more of his noises.

“Just like that.” Will gasped. “Fuck, I’m getting close.

Wet slurping and a barrage of low guttural moans filled the room. Will stopped bobbing my head and instead thrusted staggeredly. I kept up the pace he set.

“Can I cum in your mouth? Fuck!“ He whined. “Please let me cum in your fuckkng mouth.”

When I looked up at him, he was already staring at me. The muscles in his neck were taut, his jaw hung slightly open, desperation clung to his expression. He was doing his best to hold until I answered. I hummed and did my best to give an approving nod.

He came with a choked grunt, the bitter saltiness of his semen coating my mouth and tongue. My eyes fluttered shut. Typically, I hated the taste, but there wasn’t anything I hated about the way Will tasted. I loved it, if I was honest. I kept my mouth around him, slowly and softly sucking as he continued to spill his load into my mouth.

I peered at him. His eyes were closed tight, face scrunched in pleasure; his other hand was tangled in his hair, tugging it firmly. It made my heart swell seeing him be so lost in pleasure and satisfied, how good I made him feel.

“Fuck,” Will whined through gritted teeth. His hand at the back of my head flexed, like he wanted to pull my hair. “Flower, please. Enough.”

I stayed a few moments longer, teasingly running and pressing my tongue along the underside of his shaft before pulling away from him. He sighed breathlessly. His chest heaved, eyes still closed, breaths deep as he tried to collect himself. I laid my head on his hip and just looked at him, admiring him. A relaxed calm settled over his face, stress and worry free.

Will gently massaged the top of my head. His eyes finally fluttered open, his breath catching when he saw me. He gave me the kindest, softest, most heartwarming and sincere smile I think I’ve ever seen. It told me everything I needed to know.

He beckoned me to him with a curl of his finger. I laced my fingers with his, allowing him to pull me closer. I dipped my head to kiss him then nestled into his side. Will draped his arm over me, his embrace warm and comforting. I felt my heartbeat synchronize with his. The delicate touch of his fingers grazing my skin had me melting further into him.

There were countless times throughout the years that I could pinpoint specific moments where I knew I was in love—even before the realization hit me like a truck. This was another one of those moments, in the afterglow of intimacy.

The signs were always there, but neither of us could see them. I knew it as a teen, though I chalked it up as nothing more than a silly little crush. Another telling instance was the shift in our friendship after his first Europe tour. Will wouldn’t let me leave his sight and always found an excuse to be near me. He kept me so close after coming back. I hope he keeps me even closer this time.

And then this most recent tour. This moment right now. The night before he left. The kiss at the airport. The three little words that were spoken that had me in a tizzy for a month. I thought of nothing else the entire time he was gone. It plagued my every waking thought. I lost sleep over it.

Everything came bubbling to the surface. We hadn’t talked yet, and here we were again, doing more of what we did a month ago. Maybe now wasn’t the time to ask, but it couldn’t be ignored any longer. I knew how I felt. And if I didn’t ask now, I never would.

“What did you mean when you said you love me?”

The question sucked all the air from my lungs. I was terrified of his answer, but I needed to know. Will stopped tracing his fingers on my arm. He hooked his index finger under my chin and titled my head so we were eye to eye. His brows furrowed.

“What do you mean?” He seemed genuinely confused.

“At the airport. Before you left.” I swallowed the knot in my throat. “You said you love me.”

“Yeah, I know that. I meant what do you mean, ‘what did I mean?’”

Now I found myself confused. I propped myself up enough so I was looking fully at his face, but still in his embrace. His arm slipped to my waist.

“Will,” my gaze held firm on his, “You don’t get intimate with someone the night before and then tell them you love them the next morning at the airport moments before leaving for a month. Especially when they’re your best friend.”

I heard my voice crack as tears pricked my eyes. I didn’t bother trying to hide it. Everything I bottled up was now pouring out of me.

“Do you have any idea how much that fucked with me? And now this? Are you aware of how much you’re screwing with my head and heart?”

“Flower—“

“And the fucking nickname.”

Unable to bear being next to him any longer, I pushed out of his hold, moving to sit on the edge of his bed. A chill crept up the side of my body that was pressed to him. I cradled my head in my hands, a violent sob ripping through my body. Every labored breath I took seared my lungs, burning from the inside out. There was so much pressure in my head, it felt like it could explode. My heart started to crumble. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe Will would harm me. Maybe he wouldn’t be as careful with this stupid thing in my chest as I used to think.

My shoulders tensed as Will cautiously sat next to me, running his hand across my back. The screaming in my head told me to shove him away and leave, but I didn’t have the strength. My limbs and muscles were limp, weak. If I tried to move, I feared my body would crumple to the floor.

“Flower.”

Will tentatively pulled me to him, nestling my fragile figure under his arm; my face was still buried in my hands. He placed his hands over mine and I pressed my hands harder against my face.

“(Y/N), look at me. Please.”

I reluctantly let him uncover my tear soaked face, but I refused to look at him. He tightly clasped one set of fingers around my hands while the others rested under my chin. I kept my eyes closed as he turned my head towards him.

“Can you please let me see you?” Will whispered, his breath ghosting over my lips. The closeness made me dizzy. I dug my nails deeper into my palms.

“I’ll beg if I have to.” He pressed his lips to mine.

A beat of silence passed. The space next to me shifted and Will’s body left mine. I heard shuffling in front of me. The soft warmth of his hands slowly caressing my calves and his arms wrapping around them startled me enough to peek; my breathing faltered at the sight before me. Will was on his knees, chin propped on my knee, gazing intensely at me. His brown eyes were pleading, tender.

A surge of emotions festered in my blood. I snapped my lids closed again, unable to hold his gaze.

“I don’t have anywhere to go for a while.” Will spoke. “Would it calm you any if I told you I love you now?”

I sucked in a sharp breath. “Will—“

“Because I do.” He kissed each of my knees. His hands slid up to the sides of my thighs, squeezing them gently. “I love you.”

My skin buzzed under his touch and declaration. The pounding of my heart thudded loudly in my ears. I could feel my blood pumping in my veins. I gripped the edge of the mattress so hard my fingers ached. Will brushed his lips higher up my thigh.

“I’m sorry.”

His apology prompted me to open my eyes once more. A sincere and unconditional gaze greeted me, piercing straight into the depths of my heart. The thread holding me from finally falling head over heels was fraying rapidly. It was never that strong, and truth be told, I’m surprised it didn’t break a month ago.

“Sorry for what?” I swallowed thickly.

“Everything.” His breath was so warm. The muscles in my thighs twitched. “Especially for playing with your heart. I never meant to.”

A painful lump formed in my throat. “You’re still doing it.”

“What can I do to show you I’m sorry?” His hands rubbed the tops of my thighs, setting my senses ablaze.

“I don’t know.” My voice sounded weak. Tears threatened to fall again.

I kept my eyes locked on Will’s as he stood. He stepped between my legs; his hands cradled my jaw, thumbs brushing away the wetness that stained my face.”

“Let me return the favor.” He whispered, smiling sweetly. “I’ll spend the rest of the night making it up to you if you let me.”

My cheeks reddened at the thought. Will quickly picked up on my hesitation.

“I meant what I said. You’re stuck with me. No matter what. You mean far too much to me. I’m not letting go unless you tell me to.”

The protesting voices I expected to be screaming in my head never happened. They fought and yelled at me all night, but now there was dead silence. The only sound in my head being that of my heart and Will’s words.

“I swear to fucking god Will, if you fuck me over, I’ll never forgive you.”

“Never. Not in a million years.” He said with a shake of his head.

I took a deep, shaky breath and focused my gaze intensely on Will.

“Then tell me. Show me.”

“Lay back.”

Slowly, I slipped from his grasp, shimmying so my body was further on his bed. Will followed suit, straddling my hips.

I let my eyes wander his body. I’ve seen him shirtless thousands of times, but never this way. So little of him wasn’t covered in permanent images. His tattoos were committed to my memory. He happily told me the meaning and significance behind each one any time I asked. I’ve traced my fingers over the ink on his arms and neck in once hopeless attempts to grab his attention— and tonight, for the first time, my lips and tongue.

Small bite marks and bruises were spread across his belly. I sunk my teeth so deep into his skin on my way down. I’m glad there’s evidence somewhere on him.

“You can tell me to stop at any time, okay?” His voice lured out of my thoughts.

I nodded. “Okay.”

Will fiddled with the hem of my shirt. “Can I take this off?”

I nodded again. He locked his eyes on mine. His hands slipped under my shirt, caressing my hips and his thumbs pressing softly into the skin above the waistband of my panties. I sucked in a short breath. He delicately gripped my waist then splayed his hands over my stomach, tenderly and affectionately kneading higher. The cool air of the room hit my skin, making me shudder.

“Cold?” Will chuckled lightly.

My reply stuck in my throat as his fingertips grazed the bottom of my breasts. He tenderly massaged them, circling my nipples with his thumbs. Goosebumps pricked my skin.

“Don’t worry, my pretty little flower,” He said, helping me remove my shirt. “I’ll keep you warm.”

The soft thud of the clothing hitting the floor was the only sound other than our heightened breathing. The last remaining piece of clothing between us were my panties—and at some point soon, they would be peeled away just as easily.

Will planted his hands back at my waist, his eyes roaming my mostly naked body, soaking in the sight of my chest and its heavy rise and fall. He looked lost in his thoughts. His touch was gentle up my stomach, pressing his palms into the soft tissue, fingers crawling to my breasts once more. A different type of shiver spread across my skin.

“There are so many things I love about you, (Y/N).”

My heart fluttered at his words.

“Like what?” I croaked. My mouth felt dry.

“For starters,” Will bent down and pressed his forehead to mine, “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

He softly captured my lips with his, a kiss so lovingly and sweet, I swore I levitated. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. My teeth nipped his lip. His tongue licked my bottom lip, enticing me to part my lips and tangle my tongue with his.

One of his hands wandered my body, delicately caressing every dip and curve, while the other held a firm grip on my hip. He kissed a path to my ear.

“Your smile lights up the room.” His voice was soft, airy. “You’re kind. Caring. Thoughtful.”

He trailed his lips to my neck, sucking kisses all over.

“You take such good care of my cats.”

That one made me giggle. Will’s lips curved into a smile.

“I love your laugh.” He said, pressing kiss to my pulse.

Will nuzzled the crook of my neck, his hair tickling my jaw. He kissed down to my collarbone, all tongue and hot breath. His teeth softly nipped the expanse of my chest. A quiet moan escaped me. I didn’t want to rush him because fuck if I wasn’t enjoying him almost worshipping me, but I was aching. I needed so much more than gentle touches and praise between kisses.

“Will,” I said, my voice strained.

“Yes flower?” He replied, taking my left breast in his mouth and squeezing the other with hand. His tongue swirled around my nipple. “What is it?”

“I need you.”

“Yeah?” The low rumble of his voice sent more heat to my core.

The hand on my hip slipped under the waistband of my panties, inching painstakingly slow to my slick folds. I wiggled my hips, trying to urge him to move faster.

“Aren’t you a needy one?” He tsked.

I nearly cried out when I felt one of his fingers reach the top of my slit. I bit my lip to keep me silent, but ultimately failed as his middle finger glided past my clit and spread my lips open.

“Oh fuck. My flower is soaked.” He palmed my pussy. “Is this all because of me?”

Will took his time exploring my pussy. He stroked my outer lips softly, slipping between them to feel and coat his fingers in my arousal. I clutched at his sheets. He’d barely even started touching me and I was already going mindless and turning into putty, waiting to be played and toyed with.

“Will, please. I need you to do something, anything.” I shamelessly begged.

He hummed, removing his hand from my panties much to my dismay. Will’s soft lips wandered the rest of my body. His kisses were sopping wet down my stomach, deliberately pressing his tongue against my skin. He crawled off of me and settled once again between my legs. The firm yet delicate caress along my thighs had me whimpering.

Will hooked his thumbs in my panties and peeled them away. I knew they were absolutely drenched. I could feel how wet I was before Will teasingly touched me. I was prepared for the remarks, however, I wasn’t prepared for him to sniff my panties. Something told me that if he were wearing pants, he would have shoved them in a pocket.

He tossed the garment over his shoulder then spread my legs completely open. I watched as he hooked his arms under my thighs, pulling my lower half closer. My ass sat dangerously close on the edge of the bed. His gaze was fixed on my glistening pussy.

“I can’t wait to taste you.” He licked his lips, and delved his tongue between my folds, licking from my entrance to my clit.

A deep moan erupted from me. My hands shot to his head and tangled in his soft hair. I’d seen his vocal covers and one takes. I’d been with him when he practiced. I saw first hand the capabilities of his tongue. He knew the perfect way to move it.

Will closed his mouth around my clit, audibly sucking the sensitive bud between his lips. I scratched his scalp and gasped breathlessly. He groaned. His tongue left no part of me untouched, practically licking my pussy clean and replacing my slick with his saliva.

“You taste so good.” He husked. “I’ve been dying to feel you again though.”

He easily slipped a finger deep inside, already curling and reaching for my sweet spot.

“You feel even better than I remember.” He slipped another finger inside and pumped slowly. “I wonder how you would feel clenching around my dick like this.”

That thought alone almost made me cum. I was already so close.

“Hm, fuck. You’d like that wouldn’t you, flower?” Will attached himself to my clit again, relentlessly flicking and swirling his tongue.

I closed my eyes and nodded.

“Eyes on me, love.”

Love.

Love tormented me the very moment I met Will. It tormented me for years. It mocked me endlessly and relentlessly for thirty days. I almost started to hate it, and more specifically, Will. But right here, right now, I couldn’t fathom how I would ever hate him. He made all my worries and fears disintegrate into nothing. Between his confessions and touches, it was blindingly clear that my feelings were reciprocated.

I glanced down at Will. His eyes were blown wide. Love poured from his gaze.

What do you see looking back at me?

Love. Pure, unconditional love. That’s what I saw— and that’s what I felt as my orgasm came crashing through me, the thread holding me together finally snapping in two.

I wanted to keep my eyes open, keep them focused on him, but I couldn’t. They rolled back in my head as my back arched off the bed, pushing my pussy further into his face. Will held my legs open despite me trying to clamp them around his head. All I could do was grip Will’s hair tightly and moan as he lapped at my juices, greedily and hungrily like a man starved.

The relentless movements of his tongue and mouth combined with his fingers quickly brought me to another intense climax, pulling me towards my ecstasy again and overwhelming my body. I cried out his name and pulled his hair, desperately trying to unlatch him.

“Will, no more.” I begged.

He slowed down, but didn’t stop completely. I felt him smirk when I whimpered.

“I could listen to that forever, flower.” Will said, detaching and removing his fingers.

I released my grip on his hair and sighed heavily. My bones felt like gelatin. I blinked my eyes open then glanced at Will. He was sitting back on his legs, looking at me with an adoring, satisfied smile. His mouth and chin were drenched in my arousal, glistening like the morning dew. Will hoisted himself up and crawled over top of me, gazing lovingly in my eyes. He rested his forehead on mine, the scent of me heavy on his breath.

Softly, he pecked my lips, then whispered against them, “I hope you love me too, because I don’t know if I can’t pretend this never happened.”

“Me either.” I replied, threading my fingers in his hair.

Will kissed my cheek, then carefully laid on top of me, nestling his head in the crook of my neck. His skin was so warm. I wrapped my arms around him, hugging him close. I softly raked my nails up and down his back. He sighed, his body relaxing and sinking into me. He shifted his weight slightly, and I felt his semi hard dick brush against me.

“Will?”

“Hm?”

“Do… you have condoms?”

My voice was so quiet, I wondered if he heard me— he did. He snapped his head up and stared at me.

“(Y/N), we don’t—“

I cut him off. “I know, Will. But I want to—if you want to.”

Will searched my face. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He cupped my cheek, then kissed me tenderly.

“Let me check.”

I immediately missed the warmth of his body. I propped myself up on my elbows. Will walked to his dresser and opened the top drawer. He rummaged through it.

“Bad news, no condoms.”

I bit my lip. “I mean, you could pull out.”

Will chuckled, glancing over his shoulder. “No way. I barely held it together earlier. I’d one hundred percent bust in you. I’m not ready for human kids.”

“Me neither. Though, I think you’d be a fun dad.” I laid back on the bed. “Hm, papi might be more appropriate, actually.”

His eyes darkened. “Watch it.”

Noted. Checked. Save that for when condoms are available.

With curious eyes, I watched Will pluck a sunflower and rose from the bouquet he gifted me. A playful gleam twinkled in his eye.

“She loves me, she loves me not. She loves me, she loves not.”

He made a dramatic show of plucking the sunflower petals. I couldn’t help the giggle that erupted from my chest.

“Well, this flower says she loves me,” Will said, setting the plucked sunflower aside. He grabbed the rose and pointed it at me, his eyes fixed on mine. “But what does this flower say?”

I smiled wholeheartedly. “She does.”

Will placed the stem of the rose between his teeth and sauntered the bed. He hovered over my body, caging me beneath him. A deep desire burned intensely and brightly in his eyes. It radiated off of him and spread over my skin, seeping into my blood and setting my heart ablaze.

He took the rose out his mouth and brushed the petals against my nose. “‘She does’ what?”

I grabbed the rose from him and wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

“I love you.”

His face lit up and broke into a wide grin.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Will lowered his head and I let go of the rose, threading my fingers in his hair. His lips captured mine in a heated kiss. The taste of me was heavy on his breath. I licked his lip, eager to tangle our tongues together and taste what he did. Both of us moaned into each other’s mouths. I moved my hands to his back and softly raked my nails across his skin. Will dipped his hips, his growing erection grazing my center. I gasped breathlessly.

“I could kiss you forever.” Will husked, attaching his mouth to my neck.

“I wouldn’t stop you.”

He sunk his teeth harshly into my neck. “You have no idea how badly I wanna fuck you.”

I arched my back, causing me to brush against him. The growl he let out made me shudder. It took every ounce of restraint to not reach down and stroke him. He hurriedly slid his hand to my pussy, slipping his fingers between my folds.

“You’re so wet again.”

Will grabbed his cock and ran the tip from my clit to my entrance. A soft whine fell from my lips.

“Don’t make that sound,” he growled, biting down on my neck again. “I might lose myself.”

“I wouldn’t stop you.” I repeated, digging my nails into his back.

My breath hitched as he gently pressed the head of his dick to my waiting entrance. He quietly cursed as I shifted, pushing myself against him more. My pussy throbbed, desperate to coax Will inside..

“Will.” I whimpered.

“Everything about you is so tempting.” His voice was hoarse and strained, his breathing ragged.

I hooked a leg behind him and cautiously pulled his lower half closer. He let out a breathy whine. The tip of his cock was dangerously close to slipping inside. I could feel precum leaking. He clamped his mouth into the crook of my neck.

A soft meow broke through our lust filled haze, followed by the cat jumping on the bed. Will collapsed on top of me, both of us erupting into a fit of giggles as the feline crawled onto his back and laid down.

“I’ve never had one of them cockblock me before.” He said through his laughter. “I’m gonna be stuck here for a while, I think.”

Will laid his head in the space between my breasts.

“That’s okay, I don’t mind.” I lazily stroked one hand up and down his back and pet Dusty with the other.

Comfortable silence and subtle purring surrounded us. My mind wandered, my thoughts not bearing near the weight they held earlier. A few what ifs and negative scenarios tried to overtake the pleasantries, but I was quick to dismiss them. They had no place in my head anymore.

“I have something to ask you, flower.” Will turned his head, pressing a kiss over my thumping heart.

“What is it?”

“Can I call you mine?”

The question caught me off guard—and so did my reaction because panic flicked across Will’s face.

“Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

“Yes, but it’s fine if—“

“No, no— I mean yes. Fuck.”

I laughed nervously and took a breath. I placed my hand on his head and affectionately scratched his scalp. His eyes fluttered shut.

“Yes.” I said confidently. “I’ve been waiting years for you to ask.”

“I’m sorry it’s taken me so long.”

I smiled sweetly at him.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

It’s true what they say: Distance makes the heart grow fonder. There were countless times throughout the years that I could pinpoint specific moments where I knew I was in love—even before the realization hit me like a truck. His heated lingering gazes, the gentle affection filled gestures and hugs. If there was an opportunity to hold my hand, no matter how long, he always grabbed it. He never let me stray too far.

This was another one of those moments, in the afterglow of intimacy and the hopeful promise of a future together.

#will ramos x reader #will ramos fanfiction #will ramos fanfic #will ramos fic #lorna shore fanfiction #lorna shore fanfic #lorna shore fic

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hyuge · 4 months

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Say Something

Chapter One

It has to be you, Kirishima.

Visions of hopeful, scarlet eyes smiling at Eijirou as they soared through the sky, filled his mind; only for that smile to immediately falter. Black goop burst forth from Bakugou’s mouth as he coughed and gagged. The hand that had reached for Eijirou’s slipped; fingertips brushed against his palm. Bakugou's cheeks flushed red, tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. He clawed at his throat as he fell out of the air towards the ground, out of Eijirou’s reach, until the black goop of the teleportation quirk consumed him. At the same time, the villains disappeared into the warp gate forced open by All for One on the ground. All hope for the future hero erased right before their eyes. Bakugou was gone, their rescue mission a failure, and Eijirou screamed.

His throat was hoarse as he was jolted awake from his slumber. The shout hadn’t just been something concocted from his imagination, it seemed. Eijirou reached for the glass of water on the nightstand, downing however much was left in a single gulp. He had the dream again. It was like a bad omen, meant to warn him of impending doom. Every time Eijirou had that dream, he had a run-in with the source of his nightmares, almost like a premonition, but his quirk wasn’t clairvoyance, it was hardening. And no matter how much he hardened his skin, it couldn’t ease the thoughts that plagued his mind. He could take a punch. He couldn’t take the psychological warfare that was his guilty conscience.

Eijirou swung his legs out of bed with a groan, scrubbing at his face with his hand in an attempt to wipe away the horrible nightmare. It had been years, and that day still haunted him – a permanent reminder of his greatest failure. Eijirou had strived to be better. He wouldn't lose anyone else the way they had lost Bakugou, and for the most part, he had accomplished that. Even through the war they had minimal casualties, but lives were still lost, and many were gravely injured. They had all been scarred over time.

Pale white lines wove against skin, disfiguring the ones who bore them. Years of therapy could never undo the trauma that had befallen Eijirou’s classmates. Some had it more difficult than others. Midoriya had taken things especially hard. He lost his childhood friend, his rival, his motivation to make himself stronger, but he also lost his mentor. Back then, no one knew the secret All Might and Midoriya shared, so they didn’t understand just how bad off he was. When Bakugou was taken away, so was All Might.

The number one hero’s attention had been pulled away from the fight. He had let his emotions get the best of him when his student was taken for a second time. Anger clouded his judgement, and his life was lost. All for One had been stopped, but at the cost of the Symbol of Peace. All Might held his fist up into the air, and he fell forward into the ground. Midoriya mourned the loss of his friend and teacher for months. Eijirou felt terrible, but he couldn't relate to Midoriya’s pain.

That small ball of green fluff went from the happy-go-lucky kid that he was, to one hell-bent on vengeance. Deku was no longer the name of a hero, but an antihero. Midoriya got the job done, but he was no longer the type to consider how another person felt. He was ruthless, and Eijirou blamed himself. If he had just done a better job at saving Bakugou, then he wouldn't have lost so many lives that night. If they had listened to the others and stayed put as instructed, then maybe the heroes could have saved his friend after all. The what ifs were endless.

Now, no one would ever know. Instead, he was forced to rise every morning, put on his hero costume, and pray no one else got hurt. He would not be the source of yet another tragedy. Eijirou ran his hand through his hair, feeling the greasy remnants of the last of the hair gel in his red locks that he hadn't washed out the night before. He would need to shower before work. Eijirou could only hope that the warm water would wash away the feelings of foreboding he found himself waking to.

He used to talk to the others about it—his sense of guilt and the dreams that plagued him—but after so many years, they had all moved on. They didn’t understand his pain, or his guilt. They would tell him it was the villains’ fault things ended up the way they did, and while that may have been true, Eijirou could never truly place the blame on the villains. He had been shouldering it himself for so long. It was his failure to grasp Bakugou’s outstretched hand that caused the destruction of the hero society they once knew. He could never take that back.

Soapy water swirled into the floor drain of his bathroom shower, spinning in circles like a whirlpool threatening to swallow him whole. Sometimes, Eijirou wished he could just disappear like the bathroom soap scum. It would be simple, effortless. He wouldn't have to risk his life fighting villains and he wouldn't feel as shitty as he did anymore. It would be someone else’s problem. Everything would be perfect, at least until the dreams started again. Or would they stop if he no longer put himself in a position to see the cause of his nightmares?

He stepped out of the shower, red hair hanging off his shoulders; water droplets falling off the tips, onto his skin, and down to the floor. Eijirou wrapped a towel around his waist, then grabbed a second one to dry his hair, ruffling the locks between the terrycloth. The shower cleansed him in body, but not mind. Eijirou stood there in the mirror, one hand holding the towel to his head, the other resting on his hip. He looked tired. The bags under his eyes were prominent and the shower did little to help energize him like he had hoped. It would make for a long day of work if he couldn't bring himself to perk up.

Eijirou knew he couldn't dwell on that day forever; years of therapy had instilled the fact that it was okay to move on, but every time he dreamt that dream, his smile would disappear. He spent so much time wondering what their lives would be like if they had succeeded. They had only known each other for a few months, he shouldn't have been so worked up about it, but they had grown close in that brief time—close enough for Bakugou to take Eijirou as his plus one on an exclusive island getaway. Like most things, it had been interrupted by villains, but they still had fun, given the circumstances.

He tossed the towel into the hamper and reached for a comb and his container of hair gel to make up his signature spiked look. Eijirou had been a pro long enough to know how to fake a positive attitude. He couldn’t let the citizens see him with such a sour disposition. When his hair was sufficiently spiked and his teeth were brushed, he slipped on a plain, black tank top and a pair of red jogging short. He would run to his agency. Some early morning fresh air could possibly be the thing he needed to help clear his mind. If not, then at least he would get his cardio in for the day.

Eijirou slipped his phone, wallet, and keys into his shorts pocket and kicked on his shoes, locking his apartment door as he left. He shivered slightly, goosebumps causing his skin to pucker, and he rubbed at his arms before starting his run. Spring mornings in Tokyo were always kind of chilly, but the cold never really bothered him too much. He would manage dressed as is, until he got to his agency. Eijirou had picked a medium-priced apartment complex only a few blocks from where he set up shop, so that he could quickly get to work in the event of an emergency. He was always on call, even with the others at his agency would yell at him to take a day off.

He couldn’t rest, not when lives were at stake. Eijirou waved to an old woman out walking her dog first thing in the morning. She was there every day. One morning, he had stopped and offered to walk the dog for her, but she said her walks were the only time she ever got out of her house anymore. Now when he has free time, he joins her. This morning however, he just gave her a small wave as he made his way to the brick building up the street. He was in no mood for small talk. She waved back with a gentle smile and the little white dog barked enthusiastically after him. So maybe the run was helping at least a little bit. Eijirou found himself chuckling at the dog’s excitement.

“Morning,” he greeted the young sidekick sitting behind the reception desk as he walked into the office.

“Mr. Red Riot, sir, I wasn’t expecting you here for another two hours!” The sidekick, Tatsuya, jumped to his feet.

Eijirou waved for him to return to his seat and the newbie sidekick obliged. He was a fresh recruit from Shiketsu Academy, and they were always so eager to please this early into their hero careers. Eijirou was reminded of his time with Fat Gum. Recruiting new sidekicks was always his favorite part about spring. The newly graduated students were always ready to take on the world and he was there to watch them grow. “I couldn’t sleep,” he simply told Tatsuya, patting the young hero on the head as he went. The fledgling hero nodded in reply.

Tatsuya was a diligent worker, and a strong young hero, with a highly sought after Quirk. Eijirou knew recruiting the kid was a battle. He had been given dozens of offers for agencies to join, but the Sturdy Hero held strong in the end.

Eijirou made his way to his office, shutting the door behind him as he walked in. He had a personal closet in his office where his hero costume was kept rather than using the communal locker room. His costume hadn’t changed much over the years, just some resizing for his increased stature. Eijirou secured the face mask around his head and slid the protective sleeves over his arms. As he laced up his boots, his stomach grumbled, and he regretted not stopping for breakfast on the way in.

He leaned over his desk, pressing the call button on his office phone to reach reception. Tatsuya picked up on the first ring. “Mr. Red Riot, sir?”

Eijirou shook his head with a smile, wondering when the kid would stop being so formal. “Hey Tatsuya, I’m getting hungry.”

“What can I get you sir? Do you want food from the bakery down the street? I can be there and back in fifteen minutes.”

He laughed. “No, no, no. I’ll go. I just wanted to see if you wanted anything while I was out.” Eijirou finished lacing the other boot and rose to his feet, scooping up the clothes he had worn to work and folding them to place in the closet.

“You can’t do that! I’m the sidekick. I should be getting you food.”

Eijirou rolled his eyes and pressed the red button on the phone, ending the call. He walked out of his office and leaned against the wall in the hall, arms crossed. “Kid, relax. I want to get you breakfast. You’ve been here all night.”

Tatsuya hesitated, but finally, green eyes looked up at Eijirou and he nodded. “Melon bread? And iced coffee?”

Eijirou smirked. “You got it.” He ruffled the boy’s sandy brown hair as he walked by, heading for the exit.

As Eijirou walked outside, he turned to stare at the giant red letters that read: Riot Agency. Even after two years of running his own agency, it still felt strange. Someone thought it would be okay to let him, Kirishima Eijirou, be in charge – mind boggling. Every time he looked at the logo, it reinvigorated him to do his best. Today would be no different. He would get breakfast for Tatsuya and himself, then send the kid home and route the agency calls to his cell phone so that he could go out on patrols. The other two sidekicks Eijirou employed would be in in the afternoon. Riot Agency was still small, but in the last two years, he had already climbed the hero ranks to secure the twenty-fourth spot.

His former classmates were all doing well in their respective careers as well. If only—he shook his head. Don’t think about it. Eijirou was trying to make his day better, not worse. He crossed the street and headed in the direction of the bakery. Eijirou could smell the scent of freshly baked bread coming from the shop before he even opened the door.

The baker was a kind old man that Eijirou had grown to know quite well over the last few years. His wife had passed some time ago, so his grandson helped out in the shop. It was too much work for one person, and try as he might, he could never figure out how to work the espresso machine. “Coffee shouldn’t be so complicated,” he would always grumble. It reminded Eijirou of someone else that had always insisted on only drinking black, drip coffee.

He wandered through the small aisles of the bakery and picked up a set of tongs. There was a tray by one of the displays and Eijirou set the melon bread Tatsuya requested on it. His crimson eyes roamed over all the sweet treats until he decided on a couple slices of cinnamon pound cake. With his tray of food in hand, Eijirou set the tongs in a wash bin and carried the bread to the counter. “Morning, Mr. Yagima,” he greeted with a smile.

Mr. Yagima turned around from his spot behind the counter and squinted his wrinkled eyes at Eijirou. “You should really wear a shirt, young man,” he chided, “you’ll catch cold.” That was routine with them. Mr. Yagima would always treat Eijirou like one of his own children, and Eijirou would laugh off whatever remark he made.

“I need a cappuccino and an iced coffee with extra cream today!”

Mr. Yagima grunted in reply. “I’ll get you rang up. Kenma is out back sorting the recycling. He should be back in a minute. He’ll get you your drinks.”

Eijirou smiled fondly and pulled his wallet out of the pants pocket of his costume. He rifled through for a thousand yen note and placed it in the weathered hand outstretched before him. “Things fairing okay? Those kids from the middle school not bothering you anymore?”

“I told you I could handle it on my own. Bunch of no-good punks,” Mr. Yagima muttered as he placed the money in the register.

“Grandpa, you would have literally started them on fire if it wasn't for Red Riot intervening.” Kenma appeared through a door behind the counter, carrying a tray of freshly baked loaves of bread in his arms. He was about the same age as Eijirou, but when he spoke, his voice held a wisdom that was beyond his years.

“It would have taught them a lesson!”

“It would have gotten you arrested,” Eijirou corrected with a chuckle. “Morning, Kenma.”

“Morning,” said Kenma. “Cappuccino and iced coffee?” he asked, knowing the drink order by heart.

“You got it!”

Kenma smiled, set the tray of bread down on a stainless-steel table, then made his way to the machine to begin the drinks. When they were done, he set them on the counter in front of Eijirou. “Be careful out there.”

“Always,” replied Eijirou fondly, then he took the drinks and the bag of food and headed out the door back to his agency.

Tatsuya was still behind the desk when Eijirou returned. He jumped to his feet and took the offered iced coffee when Eijirou handed it to him, then the melon bread. “Thank you, sir.”

Eijirou nodded. “No problem, kid. You can head home. I've got things covered until the others get here.”

“You sure?” asked Tatsuya tentatively.

“Mhm,” Eijirou hummed with a nod. “Go home. Get some rest. You’ve been on all night.”

“Thank you, sir.” Tatsuya gathered his things and made a beeline for the locker room.

Concurrently, Eijirou headed for his office to eat his breakfast. He would head out on patrol when he was done.

***

Patrols almost always started the same way. He would wander the streets with no real direction in mind, just making his presence known to all that were about. It was a deterrent for anyone considering causing trouble. It also gave the civilians peace of mind, which was something they needed after everything they had been through. The citizens of Japan arguably suffered worse than any of the heroes did from the war. The League of Villains might have been gone, but they left a permanent stain on the nation.

His quiet morning turned into an afternoon of chaos when Eijirou heard the all too familiar sound of explosions in the distance and his heart clenched. Much like his former classmates, he spent years chasing the sound of explosions only to come up empty every time. His attention was pulled to a cloud of smoke rising high above the buildings down the street. Those damn dreams really were bad omens. He knew the source of the destruction without even seeing it. The haunting image of angry red eyes, a smug grin, and fair blond hair plagued his thoughts every time he was out on patrol.

For years, the explosive villain eluded him and the other heroes, and Eijirou knew it was because they couldn’t bring themselves to lock him up. Try as they might, the moment they laid eyes on the villain known as C4, their attacks would falter. He was a constant reminder of Eijirou’s biggest failure. As he rounded the corner, a head of grimy blond hair came into view. Eijirou sucked in a breath. His heart thrummed wildly in his chest and his muscles tensed, body going rigid as he hardened his skin.

Sensing his approach, the villain turned to face him. “You gonna fight me, hero?” C4 spat, hands poised in front of his body defensively. There were shouts from other heroes on the scene and despite his loud antics, C4 had managed to escape his pursuers with ease.

Blood pounded in Eijirou’s ears, and he wasn’t sure what was louder, his heart or the shouts of injured citizens screaming for help. C4 needed to be stopped at all costs. They had let him get away with his terrorism for far too long. He faced the person he used to call a friend—the person he failed to save. The memory of Bakugou’s hand slipping through his as they were hundreds of feet in the air played on loop every time his eyes shut. Like a tattoo, the memory was etched into the forefront of his mind. The hope in those scarlet eyes disappeared before Eijirou’s as Bakugou coughed up the black goop that All for One used to teleport the league of Villains. He was gone, left to the mercy of the League, and brainwashed for years to come.

If only there was a way to stop him without having to fight. If he could reason with C4, that would be the best outcome. Bakugou was loud and abrasive, but he was not without reason. Eijirou had always hoped a part of him was still in there somewhere, but there was no life left in those red eyes, devoid of all emotion. Emptiness stared back at him. “I won’t fight you, Bakugou.” He had tried talking to him so many times, but Eijirou’s words always seemed to fall on deaf ears.

C4 furrowed his brows, unamused by Eijirou’s refusal to battle. Fighting was the only thing the villain liked to do. It was the only thing he knew how to do. That part of Bakugou was unchanged after all these years. “What kind of fucking hero won’t fight a villain?” He spat at the ground, digging the front of his boot into the dirt, and letting off a small warning pop from his hand. “Guess I’ll have to kill you then.” C4 lunged forward.

Fighting the villain never seemed to work. He always flew away as soon as it looked like he might be at a disadvantage. Eijirou needed a tactical advantage in which he could suppress the villain so that he couldn’t escape. He was so tired of fighting his former friend. Every time they encountered one another, another tiny piece of him died inside. Eijirou bit his lip and sighed, taking a step forward. “Okay,” he said. He relaxed his arms, spreading them wide, and shut his eyes.

C4 stopped in his tracks, palms heated to attack. “What do you mean, okay? Is this some kind of shitty fucking trick?”

Eijirou cracked open one eye and gulped. He needed to go for broke. He only hoped that a bit of sincerity could break through the villain’s hardened shell. “No. No trick. If I’m going to die in a villain attack, I’d rather it be from you, for failing to save you. I’m sorry.”

C4 stared at him—sizing up Eijirou. “What the fuck are you apologizing for?”

He opened his other eye, looking the villain straight in the eye. Eijirou pressed his lips together into a sad smile. “For failing to be the hero you needed all those years ago. Midoriya was wrong. It shouldn’t have been me. It was never me.”

A blond brow ticked up and C4 twisted his face into a snarl. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Kamino,” Eijirou breathed.

Unrecognizable red eyes stared back at him, as if trying to put splinters of broken glass back together. There were pieces scattered about, but too small and shattered to reattach in the puzzle of C4’s mind. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.

Eijirou swallowed, his chest tight and his breathing labored. “You remember, don’t you? You have to remember. We came to save you that night, your friends—I came to save you. The League of Villains kidnapped you.”

“I was never kidnapped.” C4 cut in. “I joined the League of Villains of my own volition. They were recruiting people with strong Quirks, and I have a strong Quirk.” The lines coming from his mouth sounded prerecorded, as if they had been recited a thousand times.

Eijirou curled his hands into fists, nails digging half-moons into his palms. His knuckles were turning white, but he fought the urge to grab C4 by the shoulders and shake him until he remembered. “No,” Eijirou corrected. “You weren’t recruited. They kidnapped you. They brainwashed you. That bastard Aoyama told them where we would be—where you would be.” When the news came out that Aoyama was the mole, their entire class had been shaken. Midoriya beat the man bloody. It wasn’t until the teachers stopped him that he relented. Aoyama betrayed their class, their friendship, and got Bakugou kidnapped.

“I don’t know anyone by that name. You’re making shit up.” The villain’s hands began to crackle as he set up small explosions in warning.

“What about Midoriya? You have to remember him!” Eijirou was desperate to make a connection. Anything. If there was even the slightest flicker of hope that the old Bakugou was still in there somewhere, maybe he could still be saved.

“Midoriya.” C4 looked as if he was mulling the name over, still trying to fit those splinters together. “Deku.”

“Yes!” Eijirou clapped his hands together. “Deku! That’s his hero name now.”

“Deku is the wielder of One for All. The hero Deku is at the top of the kill list.” The small explosions coming from C4’s hands grew in size. They were no longer a warning, but the start of an attack.

No! No, no, no! That’s not what Eijirou wanted. All he had done was remind the villain of his mission. “Bakugou, please! You have to remember. They couldn’t have taken everything from you. You’re too strong for that. You wanted to be the number one hero more than anyone else.”

“That was a fantasy. Being a villain is reality. It’s what I’m most suited for.”

Eijirou shook his head in dismay. “You can’t believe that! We fought villains together, side by side. The two of us.” C4 grimaced and Eijirou decided to give it one last push. He could hear the sirens wailing. Police would be on them soon and he would never get through to the villain once that happened. His voice was much softer now, barely audible with the sounds of destruction going on around them. “Did the I-Expo mean nothing?”

They never talked about what happened between them. As soon as they returned to Japan, they had to pack their bags for the training camp. It all went by so fast. But there was a moment before the villains attacked the island and they were wrenched into another battle, when it was just the two of them, alone in an elevator ascending the floors of the tower to a botanical garden Eijirou had read about on the plane. Time seemed to stand still in that small box, and they shared a moment that was never spoken of again.

“Did that kiss mean nothing?” he asked, a little louder.

The heat radiating off the villain’s hands dissipated, and he furrowed his brows. His lips were pursed in frustration as he tried to understand the question. Slowly, Eijirou could see the gears beginning to turn behind those dark, scarlet eyes. “It… it wasn’t… it didn’t—”

Before C4 could get out whatever it was he was trying to say, a squad of police officers came marching down the street, guns aimed on the villain. “Freeze! Put your hands up.”

C4 spun around, facing them, and shook his head. He pointed his palms down so that they were facing the pavement, and a large blast propelled him into the air. He was gone in a flash; just like always. Eijirou fell to his knees and a hardened fist slammed into the ground, cracking the asphalt. Son of a bitch! He had finally said something to get through to his old friend, and it was gone in the blink of an eye. Eijirou doubted the villain would allow him another chance like that again.

***

“You let him go.”

Eijirou slammed his fist down on the interrogation table, staring across the metal surface at Detective Tsukauchi. “I did not let him go! I connected with him. It’s the first time anyone has managed to do that in years!”

Detective Tsukauchi rubbed at his eyes between pinched brows. “Red Riot, please calm down. I understand how difficult this must be for you, but apprehending the villain is the fastest way we can go about helping him.”

“You mean locking him up in Tartarus for the rest of his life.”

The detective sighed, shaking his head. “Brainwashed or not, Bakugou Katsuki is responsible for the loss of hundreds of lives and countless destruction. There’s no guarantee the effects of the brainwashing can be reversed after such a long time. He needs to be detained. Only then can we attempt to help him, but he still has to pay for the crimes he has committed.”

Eijirou’s mouth felt dry, his tongue too thick to form words. He felt sick, like he might vomit at any second. He covered his mouth with his hand, breathing slowly through his nostrils. “Can I get you some water?” asked Detective Tsukauchi. Eijirou shook his head.

“Is there anything else that you need? Or can I head back to my agency?”

The detective grimaced but nodded in the direction of the security camera overhead and the door to the interrogation room opened from the outside. “You’re free to go. But please, Kirishima, remember that this villain is not the same person you knew almost a decade ago.”

Eijirou locked eyes with Detective Tsukauchi and nodded once before rising to his feet. “I know.” He knew better than anyone that Bakugou wasn’t the same person anymore. The others had run into him a number of times over the years, but no one more than Eijirou. He walked out the door of the interrogation room and followed an officer that escorted him to the exit. Eijirou gave the officer a small wave before leaving the police station and heading back in the direction of the Riot Agency.

He was sure to find his young sidekicks in a frenzy when he returned, but Eijirou decided to take the long way back. He needed a breather after the day’s events. Today’s encounter had been unlike any before and there was a lot to process. He made progress, small as it may have been, it was still progress. That meant there was the potential for him to get through to Bakugou. How many tries would it take? Could he even manage to convince the blond to listen to him a second time? Eijirou was lucky enough to breakthrough once. Twice would be a miracle.

Eijirou walked past a small park and took a seat on an isolated bench. He rested his head in his hands, propping his elbows on his knees. He had to think about what he could do differently in the future. If only they could figure out where C4 was hiding. The rest of the League had been done away with during the war. Only C4 remained. His friend was a puppet without a master. He acted on instinct and programming, nothing more. C4 was like a feral dog, abandoned by its owner.

Nobody knew how the villain got by on a day-to-day basis. Did he have an apartment? Pay bills? Go grocery shopping? C4 always looked filthy whenever Eijirou encountered him, but he wasn’t sure if that was from a lack of hygiene or just the throws of battle. “I wish I could follow him,” he said out loud, leaning back against the park bench. If only I had some sort of mobility quirk.

You can read it in full on AO3 or stay tuned for chapter updates every Friday until caught up to where it is at present.

#fanfiction #bnha #fanfic #krbk #kiribaku #mha #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou #pro hero kirishima eijirou #villian bakugou katsuki #heavy angst #canon divergent au #slow burn #enemies to lovers #Say Something #hyuge writes

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mizkit · 9 months

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new blog post: a rather lovely day

new blog post on https://mizkit.com/a-rather-lovely-day/

a rather lovely day

Today has been a rather lovely day. A long-time reader whom I’ve corresponded with for years is in Ireland, and we met for breakfast, which was a genuine delight. Even though she’s still mad at me for something I wrote in the Walker Papers, and took the chance to tell me I’m not yet forgiven. But I also told her a couple of SECRETS, so we were all even in the end, or something. *laughs*

I brought her a copy of GLADIATOR TIGER, which she had not known was dedicated to her, so that was quite a lot of fun. (She had figured something out about the characters after reading the first book in the series, GLADIATOR BEAR, and I was so delighted with her for doing all the leg work on it that I knew right away I’d be dedicating the last book in the series to her. And she’d read it, but in e-book, which typically skips the dedication pages, so it was a surprise to her! And then we both got sniffly, because I, at least, am a Big Goop. :))

I dropped her off at the National Museum, and contemplated lying in the middle of the floor to get a full picture of the beautiful whisper chamber ceiling in there. I asked Indy, who was with me at that particular moment, if it would embarrass him if I did so. “I’d just pretend I didn’t know you,” he said, but I spared him the humility and just took a picture like a normal person (featured image!).

I might swing by with my real camera and a wide angle lens, though, and see if they mind me lying on the floor for a minute. :) I hadn’t been in there in a long time and had forgotten how pretty it was.

Then I brought my poor starving child out for lunch, came home, and made dinner immediately so I didn’t have to think about it at actual dinner time. That was an extremely good idea, and is what I should pretty much always do if I’m responsible for feeding the family.

I have since been doing Work That Isn’t Writing, including this blog post, and later this evening, I shall start to watch the second series of Good Omens.

And that’s me for today.

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entropic-prince · 10 months

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okay okay i posted on twitter i was excited about some tattoos i'm gonna get but here i just wanted to expound upon it so the friends who're on twitter can have an idea owo

but the first tattoo is the one i'm gonna get with faith and we were going to do matching knife tattoos, but we were talking and we were thinking old school knife through wolf's head and i'm super excited for that - i'm hoping to get it so i can get it on the outer part of my forearm and we plan to grab it summer 2024!!! there might be a better placement depending on the design so we'll see but the initial idea was outer right forearm.

i would really like to get a tattoo for sleep token's take me back to eden? if i could manage to make it for "no amount of self-sought fury will bring back the glory of innocence" -- i'd really love to get something like a wolf's head wrapped in barbed wire or a barbed chain and a knife like locking it into that. in particularly i want the wolf to be biting down on the barbs and just you know the fur being cut into and stripped, etc. if it were crying tears of black goop a la sleep token aesthetique(tm) then that'd be okay too ;p i'd love if i could somehow get it on the side of my neck or my throat and make that work but idk if that's possible.

i'd also really like to get at least one bad omens tattoo -- i'd particularly like to get the lyric "way down would you say I'm worthy?" but i also like trying to figure out how to convert the song kimgdom of cards into a tattoo as well, since that's SUCH a vibe for me.

i'd really like to get more hand tattoos bc i fucking love mine so much -- in particular i'd love to get finger tattoos. i'd get norse runes but since the assholes like those so much i'll probably do abstract blackwork with triangles, dots, and rings. i'd also particularly love to get circuitry on at least one of my hands, but i like the idea of that coming from the bottom of my wrist and into my palm, curling up along the top of my hand. i've also thought about getting cyberpunk mantisblade markings on one of my arms but i'm not entirely sold on that (even though i do need a cyberpunk tattoo).

#about coop

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amuseoffyre · 4 years

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Rating: PG Summary: In 1999, a television programmed aired that would quickly become a cult classic. 20 years on, join the crew of the NSS Galaxy Quest as they embark on the most exciting adventure of their lives. Notes: No more images for now. no brain.

Snippet:

Every damn door in the corridors looked them same and Anathema tried yet another one. Another engineering bay or something. No pads, no circles, no glowy goop. Jesus, this couldn’t be happening! “But where are you going?” The nuns were chasing after them all down the hallways. “Oh, I would say that’s quite obvious!” Ezra snapped tersely over his shoulder. “We’re going.” “But you can’t do that!” One of the nuns – Mary? – said, alarmed. “I think you’ll find we can!” Ezra retorted. “No offence, my good… er… woman, but we did not sign up for mutilation and death!” “We want to go home!” Anathema put in furiously. “We don’t belong here.” “I definitely don’t!” Newton exclaimed. “I died in the show! All the time! I don’t want to die in space!”

#fic: to the stars #good omens fic #galaxy quest au

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quirklesshero-old · 5 years

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I have one prompt left from this weekend, and I want to answer it before I work on the next chapter of GOOP.

Except I’m doing so much research for it because I like research, even if everything won’t be included. I thought I would be able to answer it today, but it’s getting late. Then tomorrow, a friend is coming over and spending the night.

But I will answer the prompt and write the next chapter of GOOP this week, don’t worry. I have a lot of free time; the only other things I’m doing is watching Good Omens, playing phone games, and reading fanfiction.

#the prompt is a pokémon au okay i am having so much fun researching stuff #i have a basic outline for it #also i'll be able to post some fun thoughts after i've answered the prompt

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rebustein94-blog · 7 years

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Clean Shoes

Yeah, I know. But I let it happen because the funny thing is I was just thinking about how dirty my shoes were. For a couple days, actually, I had been looking down at the bastards and thinking, “You bastards. Look at you. All grimed-up.”

And obviously they didn’t have anything to say for themselves.

The bastards.

I had very mixed feelings about my dirty shoes. For one thing, there was a thick line of white sludge along their tops and sides, from Manassas, where I had been trudging through snow all the time. There were big splotches of bright brown mud from Toccoa. Dust from Gainesville. Filthy white gum from Atlanta. More dust from New Orleans.

The mess of the journey, all mapped out.

And that’s what I liked about it. That stark white line and the mud and all told a story that only I could interpret. But at least anybody else could look at it and go, “You been places.”

I been places.

But I had really been feeling low the last day or two. My shoelaces snapped as I was putting on the dirty bastards and that felt like an ill omen of many kinds. My phone, in the middle of a text, went, “Actually, myeh,” and died suddenly. I had to buy a new one, the thing was so screwed. I had booked a swamp tour and they never listed me on their pickup sheet so I had to reschedule to a later one. The kid I “tutor” got his report card this week, so I texted his mother to ask how he did. His grades went down in both reading and writing, which nobody saw coming. He had been doing so well! It all added up.

Things really hit a head when I was walking down the street, talking on my phone. Just gabbing. Not a care. Suddenly, a soft “Excuse me” wandered up the street. I whirled around to see what it was and what it was was a woman on a bicycle. Coming right at me. I didn’t have time to react before she hurtled around me and almost into a pole. She paused, stared at the sky.

“Fuck!” she cried. I figured it couldn’t have been serious because she was smoking a cigarette and the cigarette stayed in her mouth. But I said sorry anyway and she pedaled off. A guy pedaled after her, also smoking.

A ways down the street, I stopped dead. The woman was sitting on the pavement. Her leg was stretched out before her. Her head back in pain. The guy had one hand on her knee, the other just hovering in the air by his head.

“Oops,” I thought, and “Shit” and turned down a side street. I planned to avoid them altogether, lest they shout, “YOU!” and come at me. I walked for what felt like a long time down this side street. Feeling like I had gone far enough, I turned back-- and almost ran right into them. Luckily they didn’t see me, so I spun about and went further up the other street. I never saw them again, but felt bad about it all day.

What I felt bad about specifically was the whirling motion I had done. Because some crazy secret part of me, which was actually all of me, strongly believed that in doing so, I had whipped my negative energy at her. I was a dark vortex. In my swirling, I had hurled a black wind her way and it hurt her leg just as much as I had been hurt. Just as much as I had been feeling hollowed-out by all the little and medium things happening to me.

So I used that as I made my vow to feel better about things.

And now we’re getting to the part where the shoes get clean.

***

It was night and I hadn’t eaten. I wandered for a long time down a lot of streets. I was hungry, looking for food. What I found was music popping out of the very ground. Bands on every corner, in every joint. But none of them were jazz and I considered them all a waste of time. Because I had heard so much about Orleans and Jazz and why listen if it wasn’t The Thing?

But then.

A small, linoleum and old wood place on the corner. Four men on stage. All in suits. All narrow-eyed and crooked. Finally. A band playing The Jazz. Everyone in there, at all the little tables, was over fifty. The young were in other places, other bars, behind windows, listening wrong. Gazing outwards at things on the street that just weren’t It. But here we had a catfish-looking guy in a newsboy cap on the drums. He pointed with his sticks at the others, and they careened into their own movements. They all wore suits. The trumpet-player did his thing. The pianist: a skinny guy named Big Al. The tuba: a big guy named Lil Ernie.

I leaned in the doorway and Listened for a very long time. They played up and down. All over the place. All the audience in awe that it was happening. You could feel it. A different decade. A guy crept up to the stage with his trombone. The drummer pointed to him and he took off, joining them.

I couldn’t believe it.

A table opened up. I could have pounced on it but I didn’t. Too nervous. Too shy. I just kept leaning in the doorway. Kept watching the table as it remained empty. Waiting. Just on the other side of the doorjamb. But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t go in. I was just too damn nervous.

And then I realized.

“This is everything,” I thought. “I lean in the doorway. Always the door, eyeing the table. Halfway through. And I’m in New Orleans to go through.”

But I never did.

The set ended and the band dispersed.

I peeled myself off the wall and ambled away. I wondered what I had done and what I would do now and if it mattered at all because I hadn’t gone in.

I hadn’t gone in when I was in New Orleans to become the guy who goes through the door.

So now the shoes.

***

“Sir, sir!” A man swung himself into my path. “How you doin’ sir? Those are some nice shoes, sir.”

“Thanks!”

“I bet I can guess the exact place--the state and town--you got them shoes.”

“Alright.”

I smelled the scam a mile away. But I needed to see where it went. Because I hadn’t gone through. It just mattered a lot, is all.

“Okay?” the guy said. He raised his fist. “A gentleman’s bump.”

We bumped fists. A fat man slowly eating pizza appeared on the edge of this scene. He watched.

“Okay, okay,” said my guy. He had gold teeth and eyes that didn’t sync up and always aimed over my shoulder. “Alright, I will guess the exact place you got those shoes. You ain’t from around here.”

“No.”

I knew I was doomed.

“Okay, okay. Now. You know where you got those shoes? Don’t tell me. Keep it to yoself. But if I guess right, you tell me?”

“Sure.”

“Alright, alright. Sir. I can tell you. You got those shoes on yo feet!” He clapped his hands. “You got them on yo mothafuckin’ feet in the city of New Orleans in Louisiana. And now you get them shined.”

He produced a bottle from thin air and spurted goop onto my shoes. He swatted at them with a rag. I just watched and smiled stupidly, saying, “Oh!”

“You got these shoes on yo feet, sir!” He laughed as he worked. Cleaned them right up. All the dirt, all the sludge. Gone.

Suddenly, the fat man was at my side. He spoke at a snail’s pace. “He played you, son.”

I gazed at him with this dumb wonder stuck on my mug. “Yeah, but wasn’t it great?”

The shine guy stood. “That’ll be twenty for the shine, sir.”

“And I was the judge,” said the pizza man. “So twenty for the bet. He got you.”

The shoe guy laughed again. He leaned into me, right up against my face. “Welcome to New Orleans, man.”

I looked down. My shoes looked almost new.

Feeling awestruck and wonderful and stupid and hungry and lobotomized and asleep and happy and upset, I paid the guy twenty bucks. He swiped the bill from my hand and vanished.

The pizza man remained. “Twenty for the bet.”

“I’ve only got these two ones.”

He took the last of my cash, rolled his eyes, and sauntered off.

I bought myself a drink with my debit card and meandered back to the hotel.

New Orleans had cleaned me the fuck out. My wallet, my phone, my soul. My shoes. My whole journey and selfhood up to that point had been spat out of existence. Sucked out of me with a grin, a wave of the hat and the blare of a trumpet.

I had been feeling low but I hadn’t gotten It yet. I hadn’t really hit refresh, because of all the things I was lugging around with me. Spinning this way and that. Vortexing, you know. Tugging myself down. And sticking myself on doorjambs. Instead of through them.

Listen. I know it was dumb. But I paid the twenty dollars because it’s one thing to look down at your shoes and go, “You’re dirty but you’re familiar and I love you.” It’s another thing to just have some clean fucking shoes.

(New Orleans, LA)

#shoes #clean #new orleans #pizza #jazz #thisisntforyoucarl

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