#and i make no promises you'll ever see anything posted about him ever again after this post

[cheeseceli]

When they have a crush

Pairing: ot7 BTS × Gn!reader (individually)

Genre: headcanon, fluff

Request: types of dumb or random things bts members will do while they are crushing on someone and wants their attention?

Warnings: mentions of food at jin's

A/n: I feel like I'm getting better at making the layout of these posts :)

Jin

‌This man ain't even trying to bring out his boyfriend material

‌He's going for the husband material

‌Cooks for you quite a lot

‌Always bringing you some lunch or just a few baked goodies (and never allowing the boys to eat it beforehand)

‌Runs errands with you because he "has nothing better to do" when in reality he's just desperate to be with you for a while

‌He even has "cleaning dates" with you😭

‌I see him to be a huge fan of domesticity ngl

‌So if there's anything he can do to bring out this side in your relationship, even if you're only on the friendship stage yet, you can bet that's what he's gonna do

‌And he 100% expects your friends to make the "you seem like an old married couple" jokes because !!

‌That's precisely his goal!!

‌Once he gets to know your family, he even wants your family to be expecting the day you'll both start to date

‌Jin is just the definition of husband material and he knows it, that's how he tries to make you look at him

Suga

‌Stick to the end and hear me out

‌Jokes

‌I know how that sounds but I promise you it makes sense😭

‌Yoongi is the typa guy to be effortlessly (and questionably) funny

‌Like that one time the staff said "whoever has the ball wins" and he replied with "then we are all winners"

‌However !

‌He keeps on doing those jokes like he'd always do

‌But now he unconsciously looks at your direction

‌Would you laugh? Would you find it weird? Did you even pay attention?

‌If, after developing this crush of him, he notices that you actually laugh at his jokes

‌You can be sure he'll do them a lot

‌But it's so subtle you don't even notice he's doing it to make you laugh/have your attention

‌However, he does pay attention to you quite a lot so he can always be the first one to notice your smile growing

J-hope

‌Endless excuses to see you

‌He will purposely "forget" his things at your place just so he can go back there (and forget some more things)

‌It's an infinite cycle

‌Sometimes he will accidentally leave his sweatshirts with you

‌And then he'll be like "could you give it back to me? We can go to that restaurant I was telling you about and then you can give it to me"

‌But then he will tell you that the night is cold so it's okay if you want to wear his sweatshirt while you're both out

‌And then he also forgets to take it back

‌Wow who would ever imagine this could happen

‌So now you both need to see each other again because he really wants that sweatshirt

‌Bro is still trying to grow the courage to properly ask you out

‌So even if you do catch up on his small antics, please engage on it

‌He just needs a little bit of impulse 😭

Namjoon

‌Whenever he wants your attention, he starts to talk

‌And with that I mean he TALKS

‌Won't shut up for a second

‌And he won't even make sense, bro is talking about the dumbest and more random things you could ever imagine

‌ "I wouldn't want to live in mars, it sounds depressing. Neptune sounds cool though, don't you think?"

‌Like?? How do you want me to answer to that hun😭

‌But it's kinda sweet because he becomes a professional yapper to gain your attention, but once he gets it he let's you do all the talking

‌He didn't really want to talk, he just wanted you to be there with him

‌So you can talk all you want, he will pay attention to every single word with a little smile on his face

Jimin

‌Deadass stares at you

‌Not in a creepy way tho, just in a "please look at me I really want your attention right now"

‌And will keep on staring at you until you give in

‌Heavy on physical touch as well

‌At this stage of your relationship, everything is friendly of course

‌Because he is scared of letting you know he's in love with you💀 even if that's pretty much the whole point

‌However

‌He still craves a lot of your touch

‌Hugs all the time, holds and plays with your hand, the same goes to your hair...

‌Sometimes you can't even go somewhere without him following you like a shadow

‌Trust me, if he wants your attention he will find a way to have it

Taehyung

‌He will ask for it

‌Like, literally

‌I see him as a very straightforward person so he'll just be like "y/n pay attention to me"

‌Multiple times, until you actually do stop whatever you were doing and look at him

‌And his reaction will be like 😄

‌I see him doing this slightly more subtly when he's trying to get your attention from someone else

‌If he feels you're talking to Jin, for example, for a very long while now, he won't hesitate on sitting next to you

‌And kinda throwing himself on top of you

‌lmao scratch what I said, that's not subtle at all

‌But at least he doesn't say what he wants from you out loud ig

Jungkook

‌You think this man is competitive?

‌That's because you haven't seen him trying to impress you

‌Are you watching the dance practice? You can bet that Jungkook is giving 3 times his all

‌Are you watching the recording? Bro becomes Mariah Carey in two seconds

‌The boys' biggest fear is when they are playing basketball or something like that and you're watching it

‌They KNOW they are going to lose

‌It can be a 6×1, nothing is stopping him from impressing you like that

‌But if you're the one playing against him? He's probably gonna win the match no matter what, but he's going to be extremely soft at least!

‌Please do compliment him on how he was, he needs to know it was worth it😭

Masterlist | you'll probably like: when you're rejected by your crush

Thank you for reading <3

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans

Credits for images 1 , 2 and 3

Dividers by @k1ssyoursister

[jiminrings]

PRESIDENT RINGS your m&ms... emmy nems... ANYWAY YOUR HIGHNESS PLEASE . i am begging for higher power sneak peek PLEASE PELASE i will ask once and twice until we get it and nothing more

higher power aka brother's best friend n Yearning fic sneak peek :D

waiting for jungkook to love again doesn't guarantee you a permanent romantic spot in his life, even if you've been in love with him the longest.

alternatively, you promised yourself to keep confessing to jungkook, your brother's best friend, every year until you turn twenty-eight.

Jungkook has a habit of coming over unannounced.

In between all your parents' insisting that your house is also his for him to run to anytime, to your brother realizing that being friends with Jungkook meant having to see him in unhealthy doses because he has no other choice, Jungkook effectively integrated himself to the quilt of your life.

He's a lived-in, well-loved shirt that's cut up and fashioned into a granny square, along with a hundred other versions of him that you've had the privilege of seeing; it's actually ironic because Jungkook's left a lot of his items, of himself, both in your childhood house and your shared apartment with your brother, and he's never batted an eye once about their whereabouts.

Jungkook doesn't question why your parents posted a picture of your old beloved dog wearing a shirt of his from elementary to Facebook, but he does save the picture immediately and make it his wallpaper.

He doesn't question either why Yoongi's cap collection is growing and why he keeps insisting that he bought it himself (even if Jungkook can still place the faint smell of his shampoo on it), but he does make sure every now and then to actually gift him one in exchange for the uncountable favors your brother's done for him.

Most importantly, Jungkook doesn't question you either when he sees his hairtie on your wrist when you open the door for him.

He knows not to bring up anything about your crush over him (not unless it's you starting the conversation about Your Feelings For Him, which practically happens only once a year), or how he really hates it when his hairties go missing. Even Yoongi isn't spared from his annoyance, because in Jungkook's defense, your brother's too rich to go steal from the godsend, usually-expensive ten-pack that he managed to buy on sale.

Jungkook doesn't point out the red elastic on your wrist. He ignores the starry-gazed look you only have for him, except now, your eyes are only narrowed and hollow over his sudden appearance.

That's the only thing he can't shake off.

"Is your brother home?" he asks his original intention for his visit, shifting his weight from one foot to another because of the lackluster, blank gaze you have on that keeps piercing him. "You okay?"

"Won't be home for another hour."

Jungkook laughs at your curt reply, eyes widening in sarcasm as he shakes his head, the snort that leaves him catching him off-guard too. He can’t place why he’s annoyed over the possibility of you being any less than delighted to see him, and truly, he’s trying not to sound like a narcissist; he’s only ever really cared about his image when you were concerned.

"That was a lot of attitude."

You and Jungkook don't really fight. You don't fight with each other because there's barely anything that you disagree about, but when you do fight with him (not if), it's unlike any of the fights you have with Yoongi.

You don't fight with Jungkook as if he's your brother, because he's not.

You don't fight with him either as if he's only your brother's friend, because you don't want him to be.

With Jungkook, there's guilt that settles in your bones when you don't reconcile before you go to sleep. There's an unspeakable force that actually makes you doubt yourself, when usually, you'd know to your gut that you were in the right every single time you fought with Yoongi.

With Jungkook, you don't get an unspoken promise that you'll just forget about whatever happened.

It's him, after all.

"Hey, woah. What's wrong with you?" Jungkook reacts with a frown when you refuse to grace him with a reply, following you into the apartment with a firm grasp on your forearm.

It's not the first time you've ever turned your back on because you didn't want to talk, and it's not the first time either that he's had to physically chase after you. Jungkook's been through this before: he's been through it as the occasional referee between you and Yoongi on your heated fights growing up. He knows how quickly you could shut yourself off, but he didn't know it would feel this weird being at the receiving end of it.

He didn't know it would feel this jarring.

"Nothing. Let me go," you mutter, jerking your arm away from him that only makes Jungkook huff.

He's supposed to be understanding, that much he knows. He's supposed to be the older, mature one between you both, but there's just something about you being short with him that makes Jungkook feel rewired, for better and for worse.

"So something is wrong with you," he insists, rolling his eyes when he follows you even into the kitchen, the two of you knowing well that you're just passively opening the fridge (and a hundred other cupboards) so you could lose him.

"Can you leave me alone?"

"You opened the door for me, sweetheart," Jungkook sarcastically hums, the smile on his face even more insufferable than your furrowed brows that have not loosened even once since seeing him.

"Because you're clearly here for Yoongi," you remind, the edge of your voice slamming harder than the last drawer against its base. Jungkook would wince about it if only he hadn’t spent the better part of your entire interaction loathing the way you talk to him, making his ears ring.

"Can't I be here for you too?" he offers, the sincerity coming across as half-baked pity into your system.

Jungkook didn't even look sure with his own question.

The roll of your eyes makes Jungkook even more annoyed, his irritation bordering on anger that he can't even place. He didn't even get this worked up over his fights with your brother, and the two of them have even went so close as to getting physical multiple times.

"What was that for?"

"You're clearly lying," you mutter, settling for folding your clothes angrily right in front of him. You’re not even fazed that you’re just three sleep shirts away from folding your own underwear in front of him because it’s the least of your concerns.

Now, the only thing you can think about is how Jungkook’s beyond clueless. For all you know, he doesn’t even care about why you’re acting the way you were because simply (and realistically, in your case) put, Jungkook just wants you to remain the same. He just wants you to remain as the mainstay, familiar figure everywhere he goes who makes him feel better just by giving him a default, love-sick glance and nothing less.

You’re not a dog waiting around for him by the front door.

You think you’re more of a mutt waiting to be seen at the porch when nobody else inside wants to do his tricks.

"What are we even talking about right now?" Jungkook nudges the laundry basket away with his foot, the scowl you give him making him shrink momentarily. "You're the one who's starting something and I literally just got here."

"I'm not starting anything."

"Then why won't you tell me what's wrong, huh?"

The simple and seemingly mundane question makes you dart up, unceremoniously dropping the same shirt you’ve been pretending to fold in the neatest, tightest rectangle as possible.

You should be relieved at the prompt because it meant you didn’t have to bring it up out of nowhere. You should be happy at the cue because whatever you’ll answer, it would mean that Jungkook asked for it.

You should be anything but the way you’re feeling now with the words scratching your throat from the inside, because with your feelings out in the open (even more than what you’ve already given time and time again), you feel even more tense.

"Why didn't you tell me you and Sora were back together?"

Jungkook expected everything but the simple, one-dimension question. He didn’t anticipate for you to ask something that he could give you an answer to but refuse to. He just sits beside you, eerily still with the dumbest look on his face that keeps pleading you to just drop this even if you barely even started, his wide eyes blinking with confusion.

"I didn't-..." he clears his throat, looking down on his lap briefly because looking at you the whole time, as he composes his words, would mean his defeat. He didn’t know exactly why or how he’d be losing by looking at you directly as he professes the truth, but all he knows for sure is that however he does it, you’d never be the winner. “I didn't think I had to tell you, Y/N," he laughs uneasily. "I know you're not exactly the biggest fan of her."

"Neither is Yoongi, but he still got to know," you chuckle dryly, the shrug of your shoulder being far too lax that it convinces neither of you that you were really okay with it.

"Because he's my best friend," Jungkook exasperates, the tired sigh that leaves his lips making you buckle by the knees despite being seated.

You never wanted to disappoint him. You never wanted to be looked down upon, most especially by Jungkook, because every little detail adds up into your head like an overtired piggy bank you don’t ever want to let go of, even if keeping it close to you means it would lose its value.

You’re keeping score, even if Jungkook never did. You’re more wired than he’ll ever be, and just the slightest slip of his attitude (even the tiniest upset sigh from his lips or a clench of his jaw) makes it known to you that he wouldn’t understand how it feels to be pathetically reliant over the slightest chance at love.

"Am I not?" you snap. "Will I just be Yoongi's little sister to you forever?"

"Stop putting words in my mouth. You know that's not what I meant," he spits defensively, brows knitting in genuine disdain because he can’t even think how a vile thought has ever crossed your mind.

"Then finish the sentence, Jungkook," you goad. “If I'm not your best friend, and if I'm not your best friend's sister either, what exactly am I?"

Jungkook sharply sucks in a breath, screwing his eyes shut as you mess with every last bit of his inhibition. He never liked fighting with you, and whenever you actually did, he’d be ridden with guilt even before said fight is concluded. He doesn’t like hurting you that way because Jungkook knows, truly, that he’d be more capable of inflicting it on you than you ever could for him.

Or so he thinks.

He knows he does it every time (even if he shoves the fact deep to the back of his memory) that he comes around. He knows he does every time he gives you either a carefree laugh or a sorry hand on the small of your back every time you confess.

He even knows he’s hurting you now.

"I didn't tell you because I know you would disapprove."

"When has that ever stopped you?" you scoff, the soft, lived-in quality of the hairtie on your person suddenly making your wrist itch. ”If I never saw her story, that's just it then? If I never asked Yoongi, you wouldn't tell me?"

"Why's it such a big deal?" Jungkook throws his head back in disbelief, briefly recalling the way he looked happy, content, in the picture Sora shared from last night. “Why does it matter so badly to you whether I get back with Sora or not?"

"Because you matter badly to me!" you exclaim, digging your nails into the palms of your hands to stop them from flailing and finding their way to Jungkook’s arms to hold him still, not because he’s thinking about leaving, but because you don’t want to leave and you want to be reminded of it. ”Are we not best friends, Jungkook? A-are we— are we just people who see each other practically everyday?" you swallow the lump in your throat. “When I see you, I tell you about how my day went. I tell you about what I'm thinking. I... I've never withheld anything from you.”

There was never a time you’ve hidden anything from Jungkook. He’d been the witness of everything, both significant and pointless, in your life. He’s your best friend. He’s your Jungkook, whether or not in the way you want him to be.

The only thing is that Jungkook can’t say the same for you.

.

.

.

heh... this has been living in my drafts since december of last year n i'm beyond glad to finally get this out, meaning i could Finally scratch the itch in my brain n get back to regular programming (aka putting out big fics atleast once a month) :D

to get ahead of questions, YES this is a general fic, meaning it will be posted here on tumblr this april 21st, 12 am kst 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ but if u wanna read it now, along with a couple hundred exclusive pieces (get to know here), then head to my patreon :D

[eyelessfaces]

ahead, ahead

poe dameron x reader

summary: “We– You’ll never settle down, Poe. We both know this. And neither will I, as long as we’re in this.” Your eyes rake over his face, his eyes softly fluttering with hurt when he averts his gaze from you. “It'll never work.”

or; your fear of the future forces you to reject the man you love.

warnings: rejecting poe but we're not actually truly rejecting him (who, in their right mind would reject this man), talks of the war, of being scared of the future, extremely brief mentions of an injury, death and grief

tags: gn!reader, idiots in love, angst, fluff, celebration, kissing, idk man I hate tagging this stuff you'll see

word count: 2.9k

masterlist | taglist | ao3

updates blog: @eyelessupdates

lmao hey I'm back ig if this fic doesn't hit ten thousand notes in 48hrs I'm dipping again

The night is fairly quiet, save for the occasional crackle over the comms. You and Poe are tucked away in an observation post, overlooking a seemingly endless empty desert; it feels like you've been here for hours, time blending now that the only light around is the shining stars and the small dots of your devices. 

Poe lightly clears his throat, breaking the comfortable silence between you. “You can't go away from any conversation right now, so,” 

You shouldn’t even be surprised that he can not keep his mouth shut for longer than three minutes. “Why won't you let me take you out on a date?”

You sigh. “Poe, not now.” 

You can feel his eyes burning holes through you, knowing exactly what gaze he’s using on you, knowing his big, warm, pleading brown eyes will have the exact effect he intends to cast over you if you happen to turn to him.

You keep watching ahead, trying your best to ignore his too obvious firm gaze over you in your peripheral vision, feigning focus on trying to notice anything unusual in the broad land of sand ahead of you. He makes it really hard.

“What? Perfect situation to talk about this” he says, his gaze on you unwavering. “For me” he shrugs with a teasing smile.

You bite the inside of your cheek, hoping that your silence will make him drop it. But he’s Poe Dameron. 

“Tell me. Tell me why. I genuinely want to know your reasons.” he says, leaning back into his seat. “Hurt my feelings if you have to. I just wanna know”

You can feel the pressure starting to pull down on you. You know he won’t let it go, but you also don’t want to hurt your friend while you’re stuck with him for what could be hours.

“So what, because no one ever says no to you you can’t take someone rejecting you?” you scoff, turning to him before you check the comms again though you know there’s nothing new. 

He laughs, a choked, startled laugh. “We both know it’s not that. You kissed me”

You sigh, tension coiling tight and your heart leaping in your chest as you set the comms down again, at this point begging the maker for something to happen, maybe even for a First Order ambush just to get you out of this conversation. “Maybe I was just pitying you.” you mutter under your breath, busying yourself out of it by picking the underside of your nails.

“Oh, you were shitting your pants at the idea of losing me. That's why you kissed me. You were so scared I might be dead you ran to kiss me when you found out I wasn't.” 

Your eyes close wearily. He’s on point. 

“And you almost could have chipped my teeth with how hard our mouths clashed, so,” he trails off. “Come on. Why won’t you tell me? I really just wanna know. I can handle it.” he murmurs, more softly this time. Your head shakes as you tut impatiently. His gentle tone doesn’t make it less painful to be in this situation. “I promise you won’t hurt my feelings, you already kinda did anyway, so I guess I’m not really–” Poe stops when you suddenly grab his arm and hold a finger up, your eyes widening as you freeze.

“Listen”

Poe halts and goes silent, alert to any sound around, any faint wind breeze, any footstep, anything. 

“...I’m not hearing anything” he declares after a while, eyebrows furrowed.

You recline into your seat, releasing your grip on him. “Exactly. How peaceful”

He lets out a soft, bitter chuckle and looks away, into the waves of sand, pretending to get his focus back onto the task at hand. 

He finally, as you wished, lets the tight space be silent again, but after a while, you come to admit that the heavy silence is arguably more agonizing than having Poe run his mouth about something you don’t really want to talk about.

“You'll always care about the Resistance more than you could care about me.”

“What?” Poe scoffs and glances back over you, eyebrows raised. You give him a small shrug. “That’s not true. You know that’s not true.”

Your gaze darts to him before you look back out the window at your side. “It’s not even a bad thing, it’s who you are, and that’s why people follow you, that’s why I follow you, but–”

He stares at you, his gaze burning through you again, caught somewhere between confusion and frustration. “But what? What makes you think that?” 

You can hear the startled hurt in his tone, the clear bewilderment, the clear need and urge in him to argue.

“You're a busy man. You're always on the run–” 

“So are you” he cuts you off.

“That's what I mean. We’re both so busy with this– this endless fight. We barely have time to sleep, let alone,” you gesture vaguely between the both of you, catching the pleading gaze you were desperately trying to avoid earlier, hoping he will get what you mean without you having to say it out loud, without having to stab him right through the heart once again.

“So what?” he insists, his tone firmer. “We both know that. That’s part of the deal. But that doesn’t mean we couldn’t make it work”

You shake your head, sensing it will only keep going down from there. “We– You’ll never settle down, Poe. We both know this. And neither will I, as long as we’re in this.” Your eyes rake over his face, his eyes softly fluttering with hurt when he averts his gaze from you. “It'll never work.”

The thick silence painfully grips at your throat, and just when it feels Poe might start to speak again, the comms crackle with a signal, alerting a presence on the grounds. 

You stand up and gather the stuff you need, the mission you let aside needing your full focus again, and as you take your blaster out of your holster, you can still feel Poe’s lingering gaze over you, your chest tightening in a sense of guilt you’ve never felt before.

—

It’s spontaneous and unconstrained when you fall into Poe’s embrace, but you do, and it’s like nothing ever happened in that observation post a few weeks ago. Your hands fist tightly into the fabric of his flight suit while you're still careful not to press yourself too close against his wounded arm. The general hubbub of celebration is rumbling on the ground of Ajan Kloss, thrumming through the air, and you can only feel relief as Poe’s hand cups the back of your head, pulling you closer into the embrace. For a brief moment, you just stay here, mingling with each other, breathing him in like you didn't completely push him away the last time you faced him.

“Are you okay?” he asks when you pull back slightly, looking you up and down, eyes raking through as he searches for any sign of injury.

“Are you?” you ask back, eyeing his arm wrapped in a cloth and held against his chest by a sling. 

He shrugs, grimacing as he quickly waves it off, trying to downplay it. “That's fine. Nothing I've never seen before. I got things to celebrate before I start whining about this” he grins. 

He smiles wider when he sees your smile, your cheeks warming up as his gaze lingers over you, taking in every detail of your face. You have barely been able to catch each other for longer than two minutes outside of missions these past few weeks, so knowing he will now be able to see you for maybe three minutes longer now that the galaxy isn’t at stake anymore brings another layer to the wider sense of relief of this war being over. “I’m glad you made it out alright” he says quietly, his voice just loud enough for you to hear over the noise. 

“Couldn’t have done it without such an amazing leader” you tease, and he lets out a genuine laugh, shaking his head, but your own laughter fades as he gets cornered by his fellow squadron pilots, pulling him away from you.

You smile when you see his eyes crinkle as they cheer with him, and you give him another smile and nod when he mouths you a quick apology as they drag him away.

—

You stare off into the distance, a small smile tugging at your lips when from afar, you notice Finn being swirled around by Rose, all smiles. 

There’s a bittersweet feeling to this, all of this. It’s supposedly all over, but you also have no idea what to expect for tomorrow, and the next day, and all the ones after that, and the idea is terrifying. 

You put your glass down beside you on the crate that serves you as a bench, turning when you feel a presence approaching.

“Hey” Poe smiles, sitting by your side on the wide crate.

“Hey,” you reply, a hint of tiredness in your voice though his presence lifts you up a little.

“Overwhelmed?” 

You scoff, giving him a half nod, barely a tilt of the head. “Yeah, you could say that”

He gives you a nod of comprehension, staring off at the loud, joyful celebration in the distance. 

Puffs of dirt are flowing off the ground from being beaten by dancing feet, the particles visible from the strings and poles of lanterns set up for the occasion, revealing the figures of people overflowing with energy though that layer will peel off and reveal the true exhaustion stemming from the battle soon enough.

The night is warm, making sweat cling to skins, making tears of all kinds short-lived, visual proofs of joy and grief drying and disappearing quickly.

Poe’s gaze turns back to you, his hand settling over yours. “You should join us. You shouldn’t be staying by yourself at a time like this” he prompts, lightly nudging your side, a gentle smile on his face.

“I will, eventually” you nod, glancing at a couple linking foreheads, swaying side by side. “Just having a moment,” you chuckle softly, bringing your glass back to your lips.

“Ouh, okay” he teases, begrudgingly removing his hand. “Mind if I have this moment with you?”

“Sure,” you scoff, silently offering to share your glass with Poe, disposing of it again when he silently declines.

“So, what now?” he questions, a renewed brightness filling his voice. “What are your plans now that this war’s over?” he asks, eyes roaming along your figure.

You take a deep breath, clearing yourself of a discomfort you barely realized had been smothering your chest. “I don’t know. That’s what’s terrifying” you admit. He hums in agreement, nodding. “But maybe I’m gonna apologize to a certain pilot I pushed away first” you grin, glancing at him, meeting his eyes that crinkle in the corners as he smiles. “I wanted to apologize earlier. Before they snatched you away to worship you for your feats” you tease.

He scoffs. “Sorry. Busy man as you said”

“Yeah” you exhale, taking a sip of your drink. You lick the liquid off your lips, before looking back at Poe. “I was too harsh on you. I didn’t mean to hurt you” 

He gives you a single nod and a forgiving smile. “I know. We don’t have to talk about that”

You shrug softly, averting your gaze from him again. All those people cheering and laughing and kissing could have been you and Poe instead of that slightly awkward tension between you, in a parallel reality where you hadn’t pushed your pride to the first plan, leaving your feelings behind. 

You glance at him, at the way his brown eyes catch the warm glow of the lanterns. “I wanted to kiss you again” you admit, in a faint murmur. “When we came back winning.”

Your gaze falls to your lap, your fingers drumming against your glass as you feel the weight of Poe’s gaze over you, attentive to your every word. “But I didn’t want you to think I was playing with your feelings and being cruel again, just the way I was in the observation post”

Poe’s gaze softens, his hand closing as he tries to keep himself from reaching for you again. He nods in understanding, unsure how to go on from this admission. 

“It’s not about cruelty,” he mutters, still looking at you. “It hurt because I knew you were scared. And I didn’t know how to make you not be.”

Your heart tightens inside your ribcage, your eyes briefly closing at his words. You nod, having to admit he is probably right. Scared of losing any more people you love, for the cause that has already taken so much from you.

Scared of losing him when your feelings already weighed enough on you.

“Hey,” he calls, tearing you out of your knot of blooming thoughts, nudging your knee with his own. “That’s why we’re here tonight. Because we made it” he nods. “We're all supposed to be less scared now, to enjoy the celebration and to properly take time to process our griefs.”

A faint smile grows over his face when you rest your head against his shoulder. You try to ignore the tears threatening your eyes.

“So things are supposed to be quieter now, right?” you question quietly, feeling his arm wrap around your back.

He hums in reflection. “There’s still a lot to do but, yeah, supposedly”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Always”

You let out a small, vulnerable sigh. “I never thought this day would actually happen. It was just a distant vision” you confess. “And now that it’s here I don’t know what to do”

He slightly tilts his head, glancing at you without dislodging your head from his shoulder. “You’ve never fantasized about what your life would be like after the war?”

You stay quiet for a bit, thinking about it. “Not really. Not seriously. Mostly because it didn’t really feel like this day would come, and now everyone knows what they want for themselves and I feel completely lost”

He nods. “You don't have to figure it all out now. The Resistance still has lots to sort out” he affirms, his thumb idly caressing your arm. “But you can think about it differently. You have every option now. You can start again” You pull your head away from his shoulder, considering this point of view as you grab your drink to finish it. You hum softly, rubbing your eyes when you let go of your drink, trying to chase the lingering doubts away.

“Come on, we should join the others” he clutches your shoulder before standing up. “And you need a refill”

You nod, looking back at your empty glass, propping yourself onto your feet. “Poe, wait” he turns back to you, an expectant curiosity painted over his face, watching as you step closer to him. 

“If you asked me out again,” you say, a playful smirk forming on your lips. “I’d say yes. It’d be part of my new life”

His grin widens as he fully turns to you. “Oh yeah?” he asks, an eyebrow raised and a teasing edge to his voice. 

His eyes roam over your face, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as you nod. “Yeah”

He steps closer, the space between you shrinking as his hand brushes yours before he holds it again, this time more deliberately and more confidently. “You should have. Kissed me” he murmurs as your gaze darts to your linked hands then back to him, unable to repress the smile growing onto your face.

“I know,” you chuckle, watching him let his fingers intertwine with yours when you don’t pull away, his touch firm, grounding you with a peacefulness you haven’t felt in what seems to be ages. “But who says it's too late?”

“If I was that petty, I would” he grins, a teasing glint in his eyes, but the warmth in them conveys the playfulness of his words. 

You lean in to kiss him before either of you can overthink it, your free hand instinctively grabbing at the back of his neck like he can somehow still slip away from you, your fingers burying in his mass of hair damp from the heavy atmosphere.

His hand slides out of yours to cup your face and the kiss lingers, warm and unhurried, neither of you caring about the laughter and music of the celebration in the background. When you finally pull back, your foreheads touch, and you see the playful grin on his face that makes your chest ache with fondness. “Took you long enough” he teases.

“You’re so desperate” you shoot back, your tone lacking any real bite, significantly softened by the smile that refuses to leave your face. 

“You were hard to get.”

“Alright, okay” you scoff, your hand sliding to rest against his torso, adjusting the collar of his shirt on the way. 

The teasing slowly fades from his face, his hand reaching up to cover yours over the rise and fall of his torso, gently closing around your fingers

“I’ll make time for you.” he says, his voice low and sincere. “Between work, flying, building everything we’ve lost and our lives again… I’ll make time for us. I promise”

You find yourself nodding, swallowing his every word, blindly trusting him; because if there is one thing you know for sure, it is that Poe Dameron never makes empty promises.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you had been holding, and for the first time in what feels forever, moving forward doesn’t seem as terrifying.

—

any and every feedback/reblog/comment is greatly appreciated and keeps authors going!!

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[invidiia]

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ "you're obsessed.." 𖤐 various bsd yanderes // reader.

bsd yanderes ada, pm, doa, hd + the jealousy scale.

[ a/n; hi i was bored and gotta feed the people bc my next big post is takin a bit 🏃‍♂️]

[ warning; jealous yanderes lolol ]

atsushi is a 6 of 10. definitely hides any jealous thoughts, at least until you're both home, but is absolutely bitter about it after

dazai is a fair 7 of 10. i don't have a lot to say about him, but he most definitely gets jealous easily

kunikida is a 5 of 10. when he's with you and you get hit spoken to by someone else, he just takes control of the situation and leaves with you. obviously against your choices, but he doesn't trust you.

ranpo is a 6 of 10. doesn't get too worried about other guys because he knows you wouldn't go for anyone else other than the greatest detective ever, but when another guy flirts with you, he just feels the need to.. step in.

yosano is a 7 of 10. she doesn't mind when others speak to you, as long as they aren't flirting with you, and that's a loose term with her. asking for directions in a large mall could get someone's fingers chopped off if she was in a particularly annoyed mood.

fukuzawa is a 4 of 10. he doesn't care if people talk to you either, but flirting is off the table with him. even so, he'll just leave the area and take you with him, he can't just let some other guy talk to you, are you crazy?

akutagawa is a 8 of 10. if someone's making small talk or something he doesn't care, but even speaking to you or looking at you for too long is just like asking for him to beat them senselessly.

chuuya is a 8 of 10. like akutagawa, small talk doesn't matter to him. you're socializing, who cares? but he's absolutely jealous of your friends, especially your close ones. strangers, he can beat the shit out of those, but your friends? he can't do anything there, so he just sits in silence.

higuchi is an 9 of 10. she hates when anyone else talks to you, she just can't stand it. she'll openly tell you how much she hates it when other people beside her 'flirt' with you, and makes you promise not to hurt her like that again.

gin is a 3 of 10. she does get jealous of other people like your closer friends, but doesn't act on anything, just sits in silence. maybe she'll express to you she was jealous, but she won't hurt anyone unless they make advances on you

tachihara is a 6 of 10. he does get jealous of your friends, but doesn't hate them. he just wants to be in their place. who says you should spend all your time with them? leave some room for him, won't you?

sigma is a 7 of 10. he won't make direct moves if he's jealous, he'll only tell you he's jealous afterward, or work behind scenes to get rid of the certain person he thinks talks to you a little too much for his liking.

fyodor is a 9 of 10. he doesn't think you'll talk to anyone else, it's about others talking to you. he just can't have you talking to anyone but him. why would you need to anyway?

nikolai is a 8 of 10. i don't have a whole lot to say about him either, but he's not afraid to be... himself,, if someone talks to you a little too much.

jouno is a 9 of 10. he knows you won't actually speak to other guys.. but still. he isn't chill when other guys talk to you, and gets worse when they eye you the wrong way,

tecchou is a 4 of 10. this man sees no reason to be jealous of your friends, or anyone who says they don't want you. why would they lie to him anyway? look at him, he's strong as hell. would you lie to him? didn't think so

[ a/n; sobs im so tired can you telllll ?? i only wrote doa trio bc.. fukuchi is strange, bram is just.. bram, plus i kinda only see him as platonic yandere loll, didnt do teruko cuz idk her actual age.. sorry this is so rushed lol its 2am i gotta go to beddd, but next post is dazai fr!!!!! ]

[dbnightingale24]

React

A Stepceat Love Story about Jim

~~

~~

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4,Chapter 5

It took forever, but I finally have this part the way I like it! Thank you for your support, and thank you to everyone who checked in on me. It means so much to me! I hope it was the wait!

Word Count: 5,994

Warning(s): Swearing (MINORS DNI), Fluff, Drinking, Emotional Cheating, Forbidden Love, Crying, Family Drama, Sneaking Around, Stepcest, Step-Daughter/Step-Father, Angst...I think that's it?

Summary: You're officially done trying with your Mother. You've done everything in your power to make things right with her, but after the Christmas dinner you just had, you know none of it will ever be good enough. You'll never be good enough. Accepting this new reality also means that you need to come to a decision about Jim once and for all.

~~

I do not give permission/consent for my works/stories to be posted elsewhere. I do not condone this type of relationship, this is clearly for entertainment purposes only.

~~

Chapter 6

“Angel?” you faintly hear Jim’s voice call as he approaches you on the swing. 

You’re not sure how long you’ve been at the park and, thanks to the whiskey, you can’t tell how cold you actually are. 

A small silver lining on the shittiest day you’ve in a while.

“Go away,” you squeak out with a sniffle, using the back of your hand to wipe your nose.

“Angel-”

“Don’t Jim. Don’t comfort me-”

“She was wrong. Ciara almost lunged across the table after you left, and your Mother and I got into a huge yelling match in the bedroom. She knows that both she and Rose were out of line.”

“I just wanna leave,” you sob with a slight slur.

“Angel,” he sighs, crouching down in front of you and cupping your face in his hands, “I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”

“I didn’t even wanna come!”

“I know, Angel. I know. Lets just go back-”

“No, I never want to see her again. I know what we did was fucked up, but she doesn’t even know about that! That’s just how she feels about me! How she’ll always feel about me! That’s just how she fuckin’ feels, and I...I have no choice but to accept that.”

“She’s drunk-”

“She’s always drunk, always angry with me, always blaming me, and I’m fucking tired of it. I’m tired of her!”

“You can’t stay out here all night, it’s too damn cold-”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Where do ya want to go?” he sighs, getting up and sitting on the swing next to you, taking the bottle from you and taking a drink from it.

“You have to get back-”

“Danielle took the kids with her, along with the gifts ya got ‘em. Ciara and Darragh took Nora home, because Ciara was too furious to think straight. I told your Mother I wasn’t coming back tonight during our argument-”

“Jim-”

“Rose is gonna stay with her, Angel. Whatever you want to do, I’ll do.”

“I just want to be with you, Jim. We don’t have to do anything, I just want to be with you-ya clothes!”

“It’s fine, Angel. I know everywhere is booked, but I know I’ll be able to find us somethin’.”

“What about-”

“Just let me take care of ya, Angel.”

He always makes it all seem so easy. He always seems to have a plan and he’s so damn calm. No matter what happens, he’s always so calm, and maybe that’s part of the reason you’re so tethered to him. 

After a few more swigs from the bottle, and a couple of phone calls, Jim is able to find you both a room for the next few nights. 

“Don’t you have to go back-”

“No,” he answers confidently as he stands up and holds out his hand. “Lets get your clothes from Ciara.”

“What about your-”

“I can get em tomorrow. C’mon, Angel.”

“Jim-”

“I promise to get em tomorrow. Now, lets go,” he smiles softly towards you.

You take his hand and as you stand up, you realize just how stiff you are.

“How much was the room?” you as you two slowly make your way to his car. 

“It’s a gift.”

“Jim-”

“I’m not tellin’ ya, so drop it,” he chuckles softly, opening the door for you.

“I feel bad-”

“Stop feelin’ bad for the mistakes she makes. You didn’t even want to come and, truth be told, I was gonna bring the kids to see ya at school,” he smirks before closing the door.

WHAT?!

“Jim, what do ya mean-”

“They’ve missed you,” he shrugs as he gets into the car, closing the door and starting the engine. “I almost suggested that we take them to see you a few times, but I knew it’d make you unhappy.”

“Jim-”

“I keep tellin’ you I want this, Angel. Yes, the sex is phenomenal,” he laughs softly as you giggle, “but there’s so much more to us than that. I’m not confused or angry, or any of that shite. I love you, Y/N. I’m in love with you. You’re the first thought I have in the morning, and the last one I have at night. I’ve missed watching movies with you, eating dinner with you, cuddling up and talking about nothing...this isn’t just physical for me, Angel. I have a lot to consider with us perusing this, and I don’t think you understand that. I have to deal with the possibility of my children hating me, your Mother berating me, Rose being...Rose, and I can only imagine what Danielle will do and I can’t blame her. Still, with knowing all of that, I still came after you tonight. I’ve been trying to get you to see that since we started this.”

“I just don’t see why ya’d want me,” you mumble before taking a drink from your bottle. 

Yes, you know you shouldn’t be drinking in the car while he’s driving, but you’ve had a nightmare of a day.

“None of the things your Mother says about ya are true. How can I not love ya? Not want ya? Angel, I’m amazed that you want anythin’ to do with me,” he scoffs as he pulls up to Ciara’s place. “I love you for all the reasons I’ve already told ya, and a million more that I’m just not ready to tell ya,” he promises as he kills the engine and looks over at you. “Lets get ya things.”

The second Ciara opens the door, she engulfs you in a hug and is apologizing profusely.

“You were just tryin’ to protect me,” you sigh as you and Jim make your way inside, “and I love ya.”

“Ya drunk,” she sighs, once she notices you stumbling a little.

“Only a little, besides, I’m not stayin’ here tonight-”

“You know you’re always welcome to-”

“I know, I know,” you quickly clarify, “but I don’t want Nora seeing me like this, and Jim got us a room for a few nights, so I’ll be there. I’ll come by before I go back,” you smile weakly.

“I’m so sorry, I really-”

“Ci, you didn’t do anything wrong. It was a dumb idea to begin with,” you sigh as you wipe away a lone tear falling down her face with your thumb. “Let me get my stuff.”

It’s not like you brought a lot to begin with, but you still pack your things with a heavy heart. It’s not like you’d expected the trip be amazing by any means, but you’d hoped for more than...this. You’d expected your Mother to be shit faced, but you really had done your best to keep her happy. You stayed out of the way, avoided Jim, made dinner, kept the children happy and entertained, and even played nice with Jim’s ex-wife even when she showed her claws. All of that work, and for what? You to end up alone in a park, drunk, and your...situationship to rescue you.

Happy fuckin’ Christmas.

“I don’t have my charger,” you sigh once you’re back downstairs with your one duffle bag packed.

You really hadn’t packed much.

“Do ya need it tonight, Angel?” Jim asks, taking your bag from you.

“She’s gonna-”

“Fuckin’ let her call and call!” Ciara snaps. “She deserves to feel like shit.” “Ci-”

“No Y/N. Do not try and protect her. She should feel horrible. Besides, you know that Rose is only over there encouraging her bad behavior. Your Mother never defends you, so why should you defend her?”

She has a valid point.

“I’ll let you know when we’re at the place,” you promise, wrapping her in a tight hug.

“Y/N, do not try and-”

“I promise I won’t.”

“I love you.”

“And I love you.”

The both of you exchange gifts before you and Jim finally leave, and you somehow feel more defeated than you did before.

“What are you thinkin’, Angel?” he asks after a few minutes.

“Just tryin’ to figure out when she really started to hate me,” you chuckle humorlessly. “When did I really start to ruin her life?”

“Angel-”

“Cause it wasn’t always this bad. Sure, she’s never shown up all that much, but we could at least have fun together. We could skate, watch movies, have dance parties...we had some sort of a relationship, but now? Now, it’s all gone to Hell.”

“Angel, we’ll focus on that tomorrow. Lets just try and salvage the rest of this Christmas.”

“I ruined it for-”

“She ruined it,” he sighs, parking the car.

“Where are we?”

“A friend of mine manages this place. He was able to give us a discounted price on a room for a few nights.”

“Does he know about...us?”

“Yes.”

You groan as you put your head in your hands, “Jim!”

“Ciara knows!”

“That’s different!”

“How so?”

“She’s known my Mum for as long as she’s known me. She knows how terrible she is, how terrible she’s always been, and is very understanding of this whole...us. Your friend doesn’t know me from a can of fuckin’ paint,” you mutter, hating how much you feel like a child. 

“You’re right, he doesn’t know you, but he knows about the situation between your Mother and I. It’s fine, Angel.” “Jim-”

“I’d never bring ya somewhere where ya not safe. Lets get inside,” he smiles softly. 

You slowly get out while Jim grabs your bag out of the backseat. As your eyes trail over the building, you can’t help but wonder-

“No, this is not where Yvonne and I would go when we had our affair,” he sighs heavily, walking ahead of you, and you slowly follow after.

Now you feel like an even bigger asshole. 

“Hey, can we speak with Charlie, please?” he kindly asks the man behind the desk. 

“I’ll get ‘im for ya,” the young man smiles before disappearing behind the door.

“Jim, I’m-”

“It’s fine, Angel. We’ll talk in the room, okay?”

“I can stay with Ciara-”

“Angel, please just let me take care of you. I love you, I want to be here with you, and I want to do this. It’s all going to be fine, so please don’t worry.”

“I love you too, Jim,” you mumble, looking down at your feet. 

Today is making you feel so incredibly small and you hate it. 

“Thought you’d be here much earlier,” a man you’re assuming is Charlie laughs as he greets Jim.

“Had to get a few things together, but we’re here now.”

“One bag?”

“I’ll pick up some of my things tomorrow.”

“Really goin’ through with it this time, eh?”

“After tonight? Yeah, long overdue,” Jim scoffs, shaking his head as the man hands him a room key. 

“I’ll get ya when ya leave.”

“You sure?”

“You’ve got enough to think on, just leave it. Is this the little lady?” Charlie asks, smiling at you.

“She’s a little somethin’,” Jim laughs and you roll your eyes. “Y/N, this is Charlie. Charlie, this is Y/N.”

“It’s nice to know ya,” you offer with a small smile shaking his hand. 

“Well, I’ve got food and a few bottles waitin’ up there for ya. Try to enjoy the rest of your night. We’ll talk in the mornin,” he nods towards Jim, who just nods in response, taking the key and heading towards the elevator.

God knows what that means.

“Angel, just be here for now,” he encourages as you two take the ride up.

“You’re doin’ all of this and I’m just-”

“Y/N, please stop. I love ya. I love ya so much, and I’m happy.”

“Jim-”

“I’m so happy to be here with you, and it’s not like I pictured it at all, but I’m still with you.”

“Jim...today has been such a mess and, if we stay together, they’re gonna be a lot more days like this before they get better.” 

“I know that. This isn’t like before for me. I know what’s waiting for me when we go through with this. I’m goin’ to be looked at as the dirty old man who seduced you, and ruined your relationship with ya Mum. I know Danielle is goin’ to be disgusted with me, and she’s gonna have an issue with the kids stayin’ with me. Rose is gonna raise hell and convince your Mother to do the same...I know what’s waiting for me,” he sighs as he opens the door to the room. 

“Jim...” you gasp as you marvel at it.

“I didn’t tell him to do this much,” he laughs, walking in behind you and closing the door, “I just told him I want somethin’ nice for ya.”

“This is...oh Jim,” you smile at him as your eyes start to water. 

Jim honestly could have gotten the two of you a rat hole, and you would’ve thanked him endlessly, but this? The room was gorgeous. Beautiful shades, a spacious bed, bottles of your favorite wine and champagne, food (which you’re more than thankful for because you’re ravenous), a gorgeous bathroom, and a small living area.

“Let me help you pay-”

“No,” he laughs, tossing your bag down. “Let me do this.”

“Jim-”

“I love you,” he whispers, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close.

“I love you.”

“So lets enjoy this, yeah?”

“Bathe with me.”

“Angel-”

“No tricks, no sex. I just wanna be with you a bit,” you promise, slowly breaking out of his hold and taking your shirt off. “I’ll get the water ready,” you call over your shoulder, grabbing the half finished bottle of whiskey, an unopened bottle of wine, and two glasses along with a wine opener, before making your way into the bathroom.

No, you shouldn’t mix alcohol, or be drinking anymore for that matter, but you’ve earned this. 

You’re quick to shed the rest of your clothes, grabbing your phone from the pocket of your jeans and scoffing when you see that your Mother has called 40 times and has sent 20 texts, then finally start the water. You’re well aware that between the two of you, you like your water hotter than Jim does. However, thinking back on how the whole day went, you know you both can use a bit a warmth to shield you from the cold of life awaiting you.

“I expected you to find you texting your Mother back,” Jim laughs, making his way into the bathroom in just his boxer briefs.

“I am tempted to, but I just want us to enjoy whats left of the day. There’s not much left anyway,” you shrug, turning to face him as he steps out of his boxer briefs. “You get in first, I wanna lay against ya.’

“How bad am I about to get burned?”

“I’m playing nice tonight,” you giggle, pouring the both of you a drink.

He’s slow to stand in it, but the second hes completely seated, he lets out a sigh of content, and looks up at you with the most loving look in his eyes. You hand him his drink before carefully stepping in. Once you’re settled comfortably between his legs, you lean against him and close your eyes as he wraps his arms around you tight.

You’re home.

You sit in a comfortable silence for a few minutes before asking, “Jim?”

“Yeah, Angel?”

“I love you.”

He presses a soft kiss to the top of your head and strokes your arm softly, “I love ya too.”

“What did you mean earlier?”

“Hmm? When?” 

“When you said they’re a million reasons you love me, but you’re not ready to tell me.”

He lets out a heavy sigh before taking a sip of his drink, “ya keep runnin’ from me, Angel.”

You didn’t think it was possible for you to feel any worse, but you stand corrected.

“And I understand,” Jim quickly adds, trying to lessen the pain from the blow he just landed on you. “I’d be a fool if I didn’t, but I’m not gonna lie to ya.”

“Jim...it’s just hard-”

“You have your reservations and rightfully so. I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t hurt, but I know how this looks from your point of view. I cheated before, married your Mum, and now I’m cheating on her with you. Her daughter. I know how much of a scum bag I look like right now.”

“Ya told me about the cheatin, though,” you sigh, grabbing your own glass off the floor, and taking a drink from it.

“I can understand why it doesn’t mean anythin’ to you.”

“I don’t want to hurt ya, Jim-”

“I know you don’t, Angel. That’s why I don’t get angry or frustrated. This is a lot and I know it’s nothing either of us ever imagined. All of this is complicated, and it’s worse for you. If you really decide you don’t want this, then I’ll walk away. Either way, I’ll be divorcing your Mother and you’ll never hear from or see me again.”

“I don’t want that.”

“But I can understand if that’s what ya decide.”

“How are ya so sure, Jim? Why are you so confident?”

“When I cheated on Danielle...that was me being stupid. Yes, a large part of me had feelings for Yvonne, I thought she was pretty, but it wasn’t love. It was so exciting at the time, that I told myself it was love and made excuses for my actions, but I knew better. That’s why it was so easy for me to turn the idea of trying again with her down when she brought it up. After everything settled and I could think clearly again, I knew it was just a moment. It wouldn’t have lasted. That’s probably why I rushed to be with Orla. God, what a fuckin’ nightmare that was,” he mutters, before taking another sip of drink.

You start making little circles on his chest with your index finger, “what went wrong there?”

“You’re gonna think so much less of me,” he groans and you giggle softly. “I could never.”

“The first time I met Orla, she was a mess. Swearin’ in front of my kids, short tempered, combative, and I later found out that she drinks a bit much, which is a lot comin’ from me. That’s why I fell in love with your Mother, or, at least thought I fell in love with your Mother. At the time, she was the exact opposite. No, I didn’t feel as strongly for her as I do for you, and maybe all it was, was a sense of relief. She didn’t drink as much, she wasn’t so short with me, she didn’t assume that I was always out cheating...it felt like it used to with Yvonne. Then...”

“Then I came home,” you scoff.

“You came home.”

“What do you feel for me now that makes all of those times different?”

“None of it is gonna make any sense,” he chuckles, pulling you closer to him. “I just felt it when I first saw you in person. I had seen pictures of you and thought you were beautiful, but seeing you in person...I really wish I knew how to explain it. I just felt this...”

“Connection?”

“You felt it too?”

You hang your head and sigh in defeat, “yeah, I did.”

“Angel, I need you to understand that I didn’t intend for any of this to happen. I honestly did my best to try and stop this, but you...you are everything. This isn’t about the chase, this isn’t for my fuckin’ ego, and I won’t be someone else to hurt and let ya down.”

“Jim...it’s gonna be so bad.”

“I’ll face all of it with you, Angel.”

You turn a little in his hold and look up at him. You can tell that he means every words, but that he’s just as terrified as you are. Not that he’ll fuck it up, but that you’ll go running for the hills again. You reach up and cup the right side of his face into your hand and closes his eyes and leans into it.

You’re both so tired of fighting and running from what you both truly want.

“I love you, Jim.”

He dips down and kisses you passionately, “I love you so much, Angel,” he breathes once you two break apart. 

“Can we stay in here just a bit longer?” you question with a small smile as tears come to your eyes.

“We can do whatever ya want, Angel.”

You resume the position you were in before and lay your head on his chest, as he plays with the ends of your hair that are in the water. Why can’t it always be this easy?

“Have you always had Charlie’s support about us?”

“Fuck no,” he laughs softly and you giggle a little. “He asked me if I was out of my fuckin’ mind, and told me that I can’t be with you.”

“You told him-”

“After the first night I met you. I met up with him at that pub round the way and told him that I fucked up.”

“Were you and my Mother having issues before I came back?”

“Honestly? No, not really. We had little arguments here and there, but nothin’ to make me think there was a completely different side to her. After the first night, he convinced me that I was just angry and I’d get over it, and I tried to get myself to believe he was right.”

“What changed his mind?”

“At first, it was that every damn thing that came out of my mouth was about you,” he chuckles sheepishly, moving some of your hair off of your shoulder and kissing it. “No matter what we were talkin’ about, I always found a way to bring it back to you. Then, when I’d come ‘round with ya Mum, he could see the difference in the way I looked at her. The way I touched her. He saw me at her birthday party, and saw that I was constantly lookin’ around for ya. The way I smiled when my eyes finally found you...he could see it was much more than physical. He saw your Mum gettin’ worse, and the way you were always there, even when ya weren’t. When I told him that we...he wasn’t the least bit surprised. I guess anyone who knew what was goin’ on with us wasn’t. I could tell that he wanted to be angry with me, but he understood. He hated that he did, but he did nonetheless.”

“What does he know about me?”

“What doesn’t he know about ya? He knows that you’re in ya final year, he knows what you’re studyin’, he knows your favorite food, your favorite movies, he knows what my favorite things about you are, he knows that you’re scared...I tell him everything,” he shrugs, placing another soft kiss on your shoulder.

“When did you meet him?”

“His ex is best friends with Orla. We both broke up with them around the same time, and we just started hanging out. He’s a good one.”

“Can I ask-”

“I never cheated on Orla,” he sighs and it breaks your heart.

“Don’t get mad-”

“I’m not, Angel. I expect the questions. I just feel horrible that you feel like you need to ask.”

“I just-”

“I know.”

“I do believe ya, Jim. I believe that you love me and want this just as much as I do. I just...” “You’re scared, and you’d be a fool if ya weren’t. This isn’t gunna make things perfect overnight just because we want them to. I know I have to show you, and I know it’s gonna take time, and that’s fine with me.”

“I just know-”

“Angel-”

“Just let me get this out, please,” you sniffle softly. “I know ‘ve said some things that weren’t the nicest in an attempt to keep ya away. I want you to know that I’ve always loved ya, I was just tryin’ to do what was best. What I thought was best. I just want you to be happy, and I know you want the same for me. I know it’s gonna take some time and it’ll be tough, but I truly do want this. I’m all in,” you promise softly.

This time, he’s the one cupping your face and forcing your attention to him.

“Angel, don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

“You know me well enough to know better. ‘m not gonna say somethin’ to make you feel better. If I’m sayin’ it, I mean it.”

“Say it again.”

“I’m all in.”

“I need to hear it one more time, Angel. Only say it if you’re sure.”

You take a deep breath as you turn in his hold and face him on your hands and knees.

“I’m all in.”

You laugh as he kisses you, pushing you back a little as water splashes around, and you kiss him back just as enthusiastically as you finally feel peace for the first time in a long time.

“I want to give you one of your gifts tonight,” he breathes once you two break apart.

“One? Jim-”

“One tonight, one tomorrow, and one when you’re back in school.”

“Jim-”

“I’ve already bought them, so you may as well let me do it,” he laughs as you shake your head.

“Jim?” you call softly once his laughter subsides.

“Yeah, Angel?”

“Say it for me, please?”

He smiles as his thumb caresses your cheek, “I love you.”

Yes, his smile is reaching his eyes, but you still see a bit of trepidation in them.

“What’s wrong, Jim?”

“Nothin’, lets just-”

“We’re not startin’ off like this. What’s wrong?”

“It’s dumb and it doesn’t-”

“Jim, it’s not dumb to me and it matters to me. What’s wrong?”

He sighs and leans back a little, “it really doesn’t matter.”

“Jim.”

“Remember when you rang your Mum...two months ago? She was askin’ about school and boys?”

You already know where this is headed.

You sit back down as you mutter, “yeah.”

“Did ya really-”

“It was only two dates and it didn’t go any farther than makin’ out. I felt so guilty the entire time, but I was tryin’ to get over you. It was wrong and, while ya still married to my Mum, it’s still wrong.”

“I’m changing that once you’re back at school. You don’t need to be here for that.”

“Jim, tell me that ya aren’t mad.”

“I’m not, Angel. I promise. I know why and I understand, it just...”

“It just...?”

“It irritates me because I don’t want you with anyone else but me. It scares me because maybe you’ll realize you don’t actually want this.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“It’s not lost on either of us that I’m the older one. Maybe you’ll realize you actually do want someone younger-”

“Jim, no. That’s not...no. I love you. I’m in love with you. Those dates only happened because I was tryin’ to get over ya, and....maybe get a reaction out of you.”

“A reaction?” he scoffs, sitting up and taking a sip of his drink.

“I know I kept tellin’ ya to stay away, and maybe it was just because I wanted to feel like I was a good daughter after everything that happened over the Summer. I think it’s clear that, that’s not what I wanted at all, and in the back of my mind...I was jealous. She had you and I didn’t. Yes, that was my doing, but it didn’t change the fact that I hated that she had you and I didn’t. I wanted to see if you’d react. How you’d react. I wanted you to show up and tell me that I’m yours or...somethin’,” you scoff sheepishly. “It was childish and dumb, but it’s the truth.”

“You really are somethin’ else,” he laughs, shaking his head and you smile sheepishly. “Lets get out of here.”

You lean forward and pull him close, wrap your arms around his neck, and kiss him passionately. It’s not sexual and it’s not teasing. You just want him to feel that you truly do love him as much as he loves you, and you’re in this for the long haul.

You want him to feel and know that you’ll never need or want anything or anyone else ever again.

When you two break apart, he’s smiling wide and you giggle softly. Once you’re both out, you drain the tub and Jim wraps you in a towel, holding your waist tight.

“I promise, it’s all going to be okay, Angel,” he whispers in your ear before kissing the shell of it.

It’s so hard to be afraid of anything when you’re with him.

“C’mon, I’ anxious to give ya your gift,” you giggle before squealing as he kisses your sweet spot.

Soon enough, he’s back in his boxer briefs and you’re in a pair of panties and an old Bangles t-shirt.

“Alright,” you start, reaching into your bag. “Don’t scold me.”

“What did ya do?”

“You need it.”

“Angel-”

“It’s fine,” you promise, handing him a neatly wrapped box and a card.

“You need to focus on yourself.”

“I’m fine,” you laugh. “Open them!”

“I’m openin’ the card first,” he smirks, and you roll your eyes as you finish off your drink, pouring yourself another glass. “Jim, I’m hoping you’re reading this after everyone’s gone to sleep. Also, burn this letter after reading,” he laughs, giving you a quick wink. “I know that this...relationship (I guess) between us hasn’t been anywhere close to ideal, but I want you to know...I want you to know that I truly do love you,” he reads a bit softer, clearing his throat. “It’s never goin’ to be ideal for us, and I’ve accepted that, but I don’t want you to think I hate or resent you, or any of the time we’ve spent together, because being with you is the happiest I’ve ever been. I don’t regret a second of it and my heart is always with you. No matter what happens...my heart will always be with you and it will always be yours. I love you, Jim. I am so in love with you, and I hope you never forget that. Anyway, I hope you enjoy your gift. Before you try and argue with me, the one you have now is a piece of shite and you’re too stubborn to buy yourself a new one. Happy Christmas and I love you. Yours, always; Angel,” he finishes with a sniffle.  “You are so fuckin’ precious, ya know that?” he laughs, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “I love you, Angel, and I’m not gonna burn this letter,” he laughs as he reaches for the box.

You sit back, crossing your legs as he rips up the paper like a child.

“Angel...”

“You need it!”

“You have so much to save for-”

“Stop it, Jim. I’m happy to do it for you.”

“I’ll pay ya-”

“That’s not how gifts work,” you laugh.

“Angel-”

“I saved up for it. Just take it.”

“I love it, thank you,” he smiles and you laugh as he tackles you with a hug.

You hadn’t initially meant to buy him a Mac Book Pro, it just kind of happened. The first few nights you were at your Mother’s, you’d heard him silently gripping about it. A few days after that, you just decided you’d start saving for the damn laptop. You honestly hadn’t meant to, it just happened. You liked him, you could tell he’d never buy it for himself, and you knew your Mother hadn’t even thought to. The more you got to know him, the more you liked him. By the time you two started fooling around, the money was more than half way saved.

You told yourself that this would be the last thing you ever gave him, and that seems to have been a complete lie. 

“How are even making money?” he laughs, looking over the box.

“I write papers for other students, I write little stories here and there, dog sit-”

“You should be spendin’ that money on yourself.”

“Jim, I was happy to do it and I love you. Enjoy ya gift,” you smile. 

He cups your face again, capturing you in a soul stealing kiss, before grabbing a small box and handing it to you, “I love you.”

“Jim-”

“If you’re allowed to give me this, I’m allowed to give this.”

“Jim...”

“Just open it, Angel.”

You timidly take the box, but you’re quick to rip off the wrapping paper.

“Jim...”

“It’s not gonna bite ya,” he laughs, eyeing you with small hints of amusement in his eyes.

“Did ya spend too much?” “Nothin’ is too much for you. Now, no more questions, open it.”

“Jim-”

“Open,” he laughs.

Slowly, you open the small velvet box, and gasp at what’s inside. Two bracelets that have your favorite charms on them. You’d been eyeing them a few months ago, but decided against getting them because you wanted to make sure you had enough for everyone’s gifts.

“Jim!”

“Read the inside.”

You cocked an eyebrow holding them up and reading the inscription.

‘Mar sin, más rud é, a stór, is cosúil go mbeidh uaireanta Sean droichid ag briseadh idir tú féin agus mise’ the first one reads.

‘Ná eagla. B’fhéidir go ligfimid na scafaill ag titim muiníneach go bhfuil ár balla tógtha againn’ finishes the second.

“You are so...I love them so much,” you sniffle, tackling him with the biggest hug.

“Top marks if you can guess the poet,” he chuckles, pulling you into his lap before hugging you back just as tight.

“Seamus Heaney,” you giggle as you try and reign in your emotions. “The poem is ‘Scaffolding’.”

“Looks like school is paying off,” he teases.

“I love you so much, Jim.”

“I love you too, Angel. No matter what.”

“I really want this to work, Jim. I don’t want this to end. I don’t was us to end.”

“We won’t. It’s not gonna be easy, but we can do this.”

“Promise me.”

He presses a soft kiss to your head as his hold on you tightens, “I promise.”

You two stay like that for a while, and you honestly can’t remember the last time you felt this safe and happy. You can’t remember the last time you felt this loved.

This is probably the best Christmas you’ve ever had. Setbacks and all. 

“What are my other gifts?” you joke with a sniffle, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand.

“I told you when you’ll get them.”

“Why not tonight?”

“Because you need to learn patience,” he teases. “Do you wanna watch a movie?”

“I don’t care what we do, as long as you’re here,” you mumble, putting on your bracelets and settling under the sheets. 

“You need to eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Love.”

“I’m not.”

“You’ve had water, a few bites of potatoes, and too much whiskey. You need food,” he reaffirms as he makes you a small plate of food.

“Jim-”

“Eat,” he tells you as he hands you a plate of many different things.

All of which are your favorite. “You take such good care of me,” you tease, taking the plate from him.

“I plan on doin’ it forever.”

“That’s awfully long time.”

“Not long enough if you ask me, Angel,” he smiles towards you softly. “I love ya.”

“I love you too, Jim. Always will.”

As you both settle in and find a movie to watch, Jim pulls you close and you feel as if you’re finally home. Yes, the road ahead is going to be scary and bumpy, but you know that as long as you have Jim, it’s all going to be okay. However, you don’t want to think about any of that right now. Hell is headed both your ways, and you just want a little calm before the storm.

You just wanna live in this moment you’ve been dreaming of.

~~

[bahrtofane]

here we go again - pt.3

pt. 1 , pt.2

jude x fem!reader , trent x fem!reader

empty promise after another leaves you walking in the cold. alone. on valentines day. youre never speaking to another player again. or will you? can things be forgiven?

Word count - 1.9K +

Watch it - reader so sad but dw bae it gets better ! jude. Just jude. hehehe

—--

Madrid is bleak and bland when you get back, eager to find a routine, to busy yourself with anything, everything.

It's almost like there's a big joke being played on you because you're given Jude to create promotional posters for. It makes you want to cry, but you suck it up, download the pictures and get to work. Even if you have to scribble his face out the whole time.

Avoiding Jude becomes your obsession. You make it your top priority to avoid seeing him in person under any and all costs. You refuse to go anywhere near the stadium, training facilities. Blocking official accounts and avoiding tv when you know they're set to play.

You find jude everywhere. In the cracks of sidewalks where flowers bloom. Inside coffee shops when the smell of vanilla hits your face, under bridges where graffiti of smiley faces litter the concrete. 

His presence looms over the city like a specter, mocking your attempts to move on. You long for the day when his memory no longer haunts you, when you can walk through Madrid without feeling his presence at every turn.

Until then, you cling to the hope that time will heal the wounds he left behind, and that one day, you'll be able to reclaim the city as your own. But for now, Madrid remains a bleak and lonely place, haunted by the ghost of a love lost.

—-

Trent calls you about a week after you land, in the middle of your morning routine.

“How are you?”

You stifle a sigh, picking at your nails, “I'm really just peachy Trent,” padding over to your kitchen, opening the fridge.

“You know what I mean.”

You grab what you need, using your hip to close the fridge “I don't know why you keep calling me Trent. I'm fine. Tell jude to fuck off yeah?”

You hear a sigh from the other end, “jude has nothing to do with me checking up on you.”

“Sure.” you hang up. And he doesn’t call again.

—--

The office is always full of energy on match days, and you hate how it's become a tradition to all watch together. Weather in the stands or from the actual office. Your desire to show up in a barca jersey is very very strong.

Today is one day where you walk single file to the stadium and find your seats. Curse working for madrid, it brings you a little too close to the pitch for comfort. You spend half the game on your phone, even when your coworkers gently nudge your shoulder when Jude speeds to the post, you mumble something about work that needs to be done (you're on your settings.)

Jude scores, of course he does. And it's a beautiful goal, straight power, nothing but net. You're up cheering before you can stop yourself, smiling. You're smiling at Jude scoring. 

He jogs over to the crowd per usual, caught up in the adrenaline. He doesn't think he'll ever get used to scoring at home. The feeling is unbeatable. His eyes scan the crowd, and they just so happen to land on you. 

You're here? The cheers of the crowd fade out, his arms falling to his side, he's staring right at you. He's taken back to the night he left you alone. He’s a fucking idiot. You don't look away, if anything you lean forward in your seat. You're here. 

—--

Against better judgment he goes looking for you after the game. Running down hallways still in his kit, looking a mess with grass stuck all over him. At least he managed to kick his cleats off and grab the nearest slides he could find. He's pretty sure these aren't his but he doesn't care. Not right now.

He knows the staff tend to hang around after games, the issue is where.

Curse the never ending construction. The  place is a maze, an awful one without, with it feels like he's entering a different dimension at every turn.

He hears laughing and speeds down to find himself in a lounge full of people, all who rush to him to sing praises. He smiles. Trying not to get blinded by flash photography. A voice cuts through the crowd, a soft laugh. 

You're here. Oh you're here. 

He sees you tuck a piece of paper into a folder, smiling softly, patting the back of what he assumes to be a coworker as you make your way to the exit.

He tries to get past the people who surround him, but you're already gone. He's lost you again, all while you were right in front of him.

He goes home that night unable to sleep, eat, think. He blames himself, of course he does. It's his fault isn't it?

Somewhere during his night routine he thinks that there's an ounce of hope to fix this. 

He calls trent. 

“I don't know man.” Trent mumbles on the other end. 

“I gotta at least try right?” 

There's a beat of silence that lasts a moment too long, “if that's what you want.”

Jude thanks him for his time anyway. Tucking himself into bed. 

He scrolls through instagram on his burner account, finding your account again. The request button taunts him, but he knows you wont accept. Instead clicking on your profile picture, watching it take up his screen and he sighs. He really has to get his life together doesn't he.

—--

The next time Jude sees you is at an event. Black tie in a nearby hotel. He misses getting ready with you for these, with all your products and accessories lining his sink while he watched you fondly.

“Do I look okay?” you would ask each time, leaning a hand on the sink while the other smoothed down the creases on your dress. Doing a once over in his mirror.

He would hum softly, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, “you look amazing.”

You'd blush, swatting him away playfully. Pressing a kiss to his cheek and promising to see him there.

The same mirror now stares back at him cooly. His sink is empty, as his house is. He misses the smell of your perfume, your clothes that littered his space. He misses how you made it a home.

He sees you there all the same, mingling with your coworkers. You look amazing, that hasn't changed. The dark circles under your eyes have, two purple half moons stamped rather aggressively on your skin. How long has it been since you got proper nights rest jeez.

He makes his rounds to everyone. Brand ambassadors, staff, teammates, a list of high profile people he doesn't care to repeat. He leaves your little corner last on purpose. He doesn't want anything to get in the way.

He slides over to where you hug a glass of water to your chest, nodding along to something a man in a blue suit is saying. Pfft blue what a rookie choice. Jude is in all black, did you notice? It was your favorite on him.

You did notice, and try to suppress the desire to hurl when he walks over to you. 

Jude gets to say no more than a sloppy greeting in Spanish before he's grabbed by the arm and taken back to where he thinks the owner of the hotel is standing.

You sigh in relief, and he sighs in frustration.

Fate has driven you apart once more it seems.

—--

Jude is a stubborn stubborn man. You can't seem to outrun him, no matter how many calls and texts you ignore, or block his accounts. Nor how you manage to slip out from right in front of him. Fate is on his side today it seems.

He shows up to your office, flowers in hand. Your favorite flowers, tied neatly with a ribbon of your favorite color, a card neatly tucked under the petals. 

Your coworkers are in uttersock, not even trying to hide their surprise as he marches over to your desk.

You type faster, ignoring him, or trying to. The gazes on you burn, almost as much as they did on the night he left you to rot. Why is he here?

“Hey,” he tries, meekly. He wants to punch himself in the face. Hey? Really? 

You don't look up from your monitor, opening more tabs, swiping your mouse against your desk furiously. You think the battery just fell out.

“Listen, I know I'm horrible, a piece of shit, the worst man alive, I don't deserve you in the slightless. But I love you.” he scrambled out in one breath.

You whip your head up at him,”love? You love me so much you took me to a club on valentines day?”

He winces, “it was so stupid. I'm so stupid. Please, let me make it up to you.” he pleads. 

You sigh, throwing your head back in your chair, rolling your eyes,”are you actually going to change Jude. Are you going to stop this nonsense and treat me like you actually mean what you say?”

“Yes,” he nods furiously, “I promise. Not a day will go by without me proving it to you, I swear.”

You look back at him. He's worn your favorite cologne, the sweater you used to always steal on cold nights. The flowers are beautiful. You missed him, you missed him so much, to the point that you're really considering it. 

Someone coughs in the cubicle next to you and you groan, gathering your things and hastily walking to the door, motioning for Jude to follow.

He looks like a newborn puppy, almost tripping on his feet while he follows you through hallways and corridors till you reach a stairwell you know for certain no one will walk through.

“Jude, I hope you know what you did broke me, it really broke me. I think you ruined my ego, permanently.”

He nods, leaning on the railing while he clutches the bouquet with so much force you're scared they're going to be wrung like a wet rag. 

“But,” you raise a finger to him, “ and this is a big big but, if you can prove these things instead of saying them, i'll consider giving you another proper chance okay?”

You see the tension visibly ease from his shoulders as he sighs softly, “Okay, yes, thank you. Thank you so much,” he brings the flowers forward, waiting for you to take them.

And you do, gently picking the note from the petals, you'll read this when you get home.

“I uh also, booked a dinner of your favorite place in a few days, in case you were willing to give me another chance i didn't want to mess it up again and if you don't have anything else going on and i just-” you take his hand in yours, stopping his ramblings effectively as he looks away. All of a sudden so shy as if you haven't stayed at his place for days at a time.

“I'll go Jude. I'm free, don't worry.”

“Great. 7 sound good?”

“Sounds perfect. Ill see you then okay?”

“Okay,” he mumbles, soft and sweet.

With a smile you send him off, almost flying down the stairs in pure glee. You shake your head fondly, heading back to your work. The flowers weigh more than just their physical weight. The letters feel like a ton on its own.

You hope you made the right choice.

[strawberry-nugget]

Pairing: Kirishima Eijiro x Reader

~You swore you were done with Eijiro Kirishima when he shattered your heart and left you to pick up the pieces. At Mina’s birthday party, her and Ochaco are desperately trying to get you to avoid him. This is what happens when both of you you let your feelings linger though; you find each other no matter what. And, not surprisingly, you both give in.

Tags // Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, smut, unprotected sex, oral (f!receiving), fingering, kitchen sex, shower sex, dr*g use (reader and Kirishima smoke together), alcohol, slight angst througout, Ex!Kirishima, dacryphilia

All CHARACTERS ARE 20+

Word Count: 25.5k

One last look at the screen of your phone is all it takes before you decide to tap that dreadful post button. 

It’s an itch you can't scratch, the nervousness you feel now that you’re posting on your story with only one person in mind, but you tell yourself it's only partially because of him.

Kirishima is the type of person that needs to be punched into next year and certainly not to have someone post a hot story for him on instagram. You indulge, first and foremost, only because the thrill of being able to tell your friends you got him back is exciting.

Definitely not for any other reason.

There's incoherent screaming from the girls all over their apartment and the sound of blow dryer eventually comes to a halt when Mina marches in the bathroom, angry about the time her phone screen displays.

“Just tell me you'll be ready soon”

“I’ll be ready in five” 

Mina curses under her breath at Ochako’s response. 

Tonight is her party, after all, and she's at least an hour late so by now it really doesn't matter that she's having it at Sero’s place; it's much bigger than the apartment she shares with Ochako, much bigger than yours and it has a rooftop. Who wouldn't want to host their or any party there? 

“Ugh whatever, what. Ever.” She shakes her head, bopping her pink ponytail from left to right. “How much time ‘till you're ready?”

You eye her, lip gloss in hand, frenzied about the lipliner you're sure you did not just lose in this mess of a sink you've created, searching left and right, bumping into everything in your way.

“Girl, how can you post a fucking story on instagram when you’re not ready?”

“Uhm”

“No okay,” she shakes her head again, silently rejecting her nerves, truthfully promising herself that she's trying to stay positive “uhm, what shoes are you wearing?”

You glance at her, before Ochako manages to slip once more into the bathroom as well, crowding the space just enough so that you feel pressured to answer both her questions. Chest heaving and breasts almost slipping out of the front of your dress, you open your mouth, words ready to bubble out, when Ochako asks you to move enough so that she can put on her own lipstick.

“Uhm.. heels?” you gulp. “And I'm ready, I just.. I can't go there without that lipliner and you know that.”

Mina stares at your feet and you're so sure she's going to make a comment any second now. Yet ever so sweetly, she opens her lips with a response so peculiar that she doesn’t ever let out. She presses them together instead like she never flapped them open to speak, eyes fluttering close for a second that's enough to make your heart want to jump out of your chest.

Is she on to you? What does she know that you don't want her to know?

“Sero has been calling nonstop. That's all.” she sighs. “We’re supposed to be throwing my party and I'm late. I hate to be late.”

“I know,” You mouth it quietly. Carefully. Even if it's Ochako’s fault for running late to show up, you feel guilty. Even more so that your secret goal of the night is to get back at -or with- Kirishima. 

“So please just get ready, you can post to your heart's content when we’re there. ‘Chako, you too baby girl.”

“Nah, I don't need to post anything tonight, Izuku will be the first to see me either way since he’s picking us up!”

Damn you’d actually be happy too if you could say that so casually. But Ochako and Izuku have been dating since high school, so they’re not flaunting anything—other than the fact that she’s crazy and head over heels in love with her man since her teens. Mina has been perfectly adjusted to her beloved city girl life. Wanted by everyone, touched by none. She doesn’t need to be in love to have a good time, unlike you. And in a way, you're too jealous of both. 

In a nice way nonetheless. 

“I did like your story. I'm sorry I keep mentioning it like that. You look hot.” Your friend smiles at you as she's fixing her ponytail in the mirror next to Ochako. 

You go to thank her, as you see her feel just a bit of guilt, past Ochako and the perfume that she’s spraying, when your phone goes off and your screen lights up with the first notification of the night since you posted. Both your eyes and hers land on the notification, as your phone lay in front of her on the sink. 

You feel amber orbs are on you, horrified, perfectly overdrawn lips pursing in agony. You try to mouth something like ‘sorry’ to her, but your excitement is too hard to hide.

How do you explain to your best friend that the man who dumped you over someone else, asked you for space and had you bedridden for like a month with all your crying, the man you blocked on all socials and whose phone number you deleted—the man you swore on your life you wouldn't take back even if he came crawling, whom you were supposed to avoid at all costs tonight, just reacted a fire emoji to your story? 

“Oh my god.” She speaks, too quietly for your own sanity. She's fuming. “You don’t actually want to come to my party. You want to meet the founding father.”

Ochako turns her head and cocks an eyebrow.

That horrible, heavy feeling is back in your chest again. They're so going to kill you. Your friends are actually going to murder you. 

Over still being head over heels and absolutely down for Kirishima that is.

“Oh you mean this lipliner, i just found it,” Ochako shoves the lipliner in your face and Mina instantly gets the chance to snatch your phone. You latch onto her immediately “What founding father are we meeting… When did we decide to go to church?”

Both you and Mina look at Ochako and shake your heads, still fighting over your phone.

“Please, Mina listen,” you cry out, trying to get a grip at your phone. “He's the one. I'm telling you–”

“Kirishima?” Mina scoffs, "Are you insanely delusional? After all that’s happened?”

“Wait, who's the one? God’s the one?”

“Chako what the actual fuck! Lock in please. Kirishima just messaged her!”

Ochako yelps your name. “Oh my god. No!” Mina shakes her head, simply to agree with her and you pout, almost -almost- embarrassed that they found out. They've done their absolute best to keep you away from Kirishima, from hangouts to parties, they've been splitting the group for months to keep the two of you away and up until now they've been very successful. 

But definitely not successful enough so that you don't find out Kirishima has broken up with his girlfriend. They've tried to be slick. They've tried to keep it a secret kept away, so very well and so far away from you, but you inevitably overhear it—Mina doesn't know how to work on her apartment's new intercom yet, and you have good ears, when you want to. 

All their efforts to keep any information about Kirishima’s break up go to the deepest level of hell, on vacation, and they take you with them because when you hear it slip out their mouths your heart skips so many beats that you think you're actually dying. 

You unblock him on Instagram. You make your profile public. You manage to post a story the next time you meet with your shared friends and tag them and they all repost it. And Kirishima adds you again. 

You haven't thought of even mentioning it to your friends because you're supposed to never, ever take him back, but it ultimately comes down to tonight. Your phone in Mina's palms. 

She's probably going to shove it down your throat. 

Instead of actually fleeting to the most brutal and criminal action one can come up with though, Mina hands you your phone, sighing. Her fingers linger on the back of your hand. 

“We'll keep you away from him. Promise. ‘Chako we have a mission”

“You have no actual mission. I'm a big girl. I can take responsibility.” you say, and Mina almost holds back her laughter. 

“Honey the responsibility shouldn't be having to apologize for sleeping with him, but rather it should be avoiding him. You won't do that. So me and Ochako are going to do it for you.”

As. If

You pucker your lips when Ochako nods, happily. The next ten minutes are spent on wearing shoes and running down the stairs from the third floor in heels. Mina forgets to lock and curses under her breath as she reaches for her keys and runs back up. 

Ochako settles in the passenger’s seat of Izuku’s car and you settle right behind her, strapping yourself with the safety belt while greeting an Izuku who already has a mouth stuffed with his girlfriend's tongue. He greets back, politely, slightly flushed; his hands haven’t even left the steering wheel but Ochako’s are palming his cheeks.

Mind you, she practically lives with him. 

Before you even have the chance to cringe, or have a whole back arching shiver run through your whole body, Mina slams herself right next to you and her door follows asuit. Izuku complains with a muffled “Please, slower.”

“Oops, im sorry”

Sero’s house is a 15 minute drive from Mina’s and for the first 5 minutes of it, the atmosphere in the car is unbearable. Mina is frantically typing on her phone and thanks to her privacy screen you can't peek -not that you’re not sure what's going on- and Ochako is fixed on holding Izuku’s thigh while his muscles flex everytime he presses the gas to his car. You’re too scared of Mina’s murderous face, so you keep staring at her, back and forth, while trying to get your mind off how nervous you are.

Your thoughts of being salvaged are cut short at the next red light. Izuku’s hands on the steering wheel flex, thumbs only holding onto the leather cover for a second and he eyes you through the mirror.

Uh, oh.

“So.. Kirishima, huh? You haven't seen him in a whil-”

Mina is quicker than his mouth, his words, even his feet when he steps on the gas again and the light that turns green. You simply flinch when you somehow find yourself with muffled ears, eyes wide, hearing almost impaled apart from the fact that you can hear her screech. 

“Oh my god! NO! Kirishima does not exist to her. Absolutely not, she's not seeing him!”

“Mina calm the fuck down!” you yell, ripping her hands off your ears while Ochako purses her lips together awkwardly to stare at Izuku.

“Izuku baby, he messaged her”

He stares and stares and stares, with wide eyes and mouth open wide enough or a fly to crawl in. And then he blinks like he’s never blinked again. Rapidly.

“Girl you invited him.” you say, mimicking Ochako’s awkward smile, lips pressed together in a thin line. 

Your friend doesn't respond, she too blinks like it's her first time blinking and you feel that awful feeling that Kirishima is to you and your close friend group as it creeps up to your chest. It bubbles and boils like tea in an electric kettle, it messes up your stomach so much that the one shot that you and Ochako had before leaving is about to leap up your throat like it needs to jump off a cliff. 

But it’s not like you said something out of lane. What you said was more than justified, because you don’t understand why everyone still hangs out with Kirishima after how he treated you —you do; he’s an amazing friend, truly— but you've long come to accept that you would eventually have to show up to parties you were both invited to.

There’s not a second in which you think that Mina didn’t actually want you to come to her party and only invited you out of sheer pity, just so you wouldn't get mad at her for leaving you out of it.

She loves all her friends and wouldn't discriminate, you tell yourself, but in this case had she really been serious about you avoiding him, she could have skipped inviting Kirishima.

Nonetheless, by the time Izuku parks his car outside of Sero’s house, Mina is looking at you only with kindness. Izuku mentions something about Bakugo cooking to the three of you and Mina assures him she’s going to thank him first things first.

You hesitate as you step out of the car; the hot night air brushing against your skin raises peculiar goosebumps and your nervousness is through the roof. Mina loops an arm around your shoulders, her grip firm. Just enough to remind you she’s not letting you out of her sight. Ochako bounds ahead with Izuku, hand-in-hand and all bubbly, and you're sure they're off for her boyfriend to manage to greet Bakugou first, leaving you alone with Mina’s quiet resolve.

“This is going to be fine,” she murmurs. It’s almost convincing. “you’ll ignore each other and it’ll pass in no time”

You just wish you had her certainty. Instead, your phone burns in your hand like a live wire, and despite yourself, you unlock it and open Instagram for the upteenth time tonight. Kirishima’s notification still oozes in anger, like he’s mocking your very own resolve to momentarily act indifferent towards it. You lock your phone as fast as you open it and Mina has never been happier about an action of yours tonight so far.

“Do not let him ruin this for you,” she says firmly “Tonight is about me, not you thirsting over bad decisions.” and then she laughs, like it's the only thing she could actually do after such a sentence. 

“Thirsting is a strong word,” you mutter, but it’s too late. Mina’s already dragging you toward the front door, where the bass from the party’s music thuds so loudly you can feel it in your chest. “It's more like, i really, really love him”

She laughs again, not wide eyed, but out of sheer embarrassment for you. She shall not get angry at you just yet. Perhaps it's just your pregame speaking. For the annoyance and disgust for those feelings you just uttered for the world to hear and hold are too much, too unnecessary.

The moment you step outside, the energy of the party hits you like a wave —music blasting, bodies moving, laughter ringing out from every corner. Sero’s place is lit up in string lights and cheap party decorations, a mix of chaotic vibes and casual elegance that only he could pull off. You wonder if he decorated the place with only his own personal preferences or if Mina actually had anything to do with it, since it’s her birthday party after all.

It seems like everyone is immediately stuck on her like glue, pushing different sizes of bags into her hands while hugging her. You greet everyone you can lay an eye on, politely, like your typical best friend at a birthday party. It's just too fortunate you know most people in here, it’d be an awkward pain in the ass if you didn’t, especially with how everyone is trying to get as much of Mina as they can.

It’s soothing to see that she’s so loved.

“Hey, you made it!” Sero Screams over the music, a red solo cup in hand and a broad grin on his face, grabbing both you and Mina by the waist—god, that mustache he grew has him thinking he’s smoother than water. “Looking sharp as always.”

Mina kisses both his cheeks while he plays with her ponytail and you notice a strange tension in the air that you don’t want to admit. She looks like she was just swept by his waterfall.

In turn, you muster a smile as you hurriedly look for Ochako in the crowd, hoping it’s enough to mask your nerves. “Thanks”

Mina asks him where Bakugo is by whispering it in his ear and covering her mouth with her hand, yet Sero is neither smart nor sober or subtle enough to do such a thing as she does, so he points at the blond with his finger.

“Thats rude, don’t point at him”

“Huh?”

“Ugh whatever” She sighs and fortunately the tension between her and the ravenette spreads thin, slowly. “You! Stay put with Sero”

You swallow hard as your sweaty hand is momentarily left to your own premises, empty of hers, as she’s off to find Bakugo too, just like she announces and you're left alone with Sero, scared to even look at the direction that she’s heading towards. But only while she turns to look back to check you. 

He who shall not be named, is right next to his blond friend. Your stomach flips. He looks good —extraordinary good, with his red hair, that white fitted t-shirt and that stupidly charming grin that’s burned into your memory. He’s looking like you couldn't get enough of him even if you had a mouthful. These thoughts are, though, forbidden. So you avoid even batting an eye at him. It’s infuriating how easy he makes it look, existing in the corner of a rooftop that you are also on, at your best friend’s party, so casually. 

Sero, who’s obviously noticed the trail of drool running down your mouth at the red head's sight, leans in conspiratorially, lowering his voice to speak to your ear. “Heads up. He was asking about you.”

Note to self. Avoid Sero for the rest of the night! 

Before you can spiral further, Mina reappears, slipping a drink into your hand. You smell it subtly, recognizing the scent as cognac. “Sero, leave her alone. She doesn’t need your running commentary.”

Nonetheless the topic of conversation is changed faster than light, and you share a laugh or two with Sero, you grab another drink, then Mina wants you to help her with putting away her gifts, then you're off to grab another drink.

Bad idea?

No, not really.

Not when your third drink is going to be just beer. You absolutely will not get drunk this way because in your case, beer should be considered a chaser for the two drinks of cognac you had. 

So, you don't even trip on your way to the makeshift bar. 

On the other edge of the table that serves as a bar, Kirishima and Bakugo are hot on a conversation and you edge closer when you notice the redhead looking at you, ever so aware of your presence. 

Bakugo greets you, Kirishima doesn’t, so you greet Bakugo back before he somehow, immediately disappears into the bunch of the people that are at Sero’s rooftop. Typical. The two of them have this uncanny, wordless way of communicating, and it’s more than likely that this sudden departure is part of some unspoken plan. 

You try not to care, shake it off, try to focus on your drink, but your head buzzes too loud, whether it's because you're so close to Kirishima for the first time tonight or the cognac, you don't even know. 

When you turn to look at Kirishima again, he's not at the spot he was seconds ago and assuming he's gone like his friend, you sigh in relief, for that was so close. So narrowly avoided.

Just when you feel like you can get your drink and run towards Ochako, life slips away from your poor body. It's him, closing in, muttering something. To you? Yes, to you and god you can’t hear him over the music or the sound of your heart palpitating and spilling all your stress to block your eardrums. 

You're sure you look like an absolute clown —this isn't even a Halloween party thus it's so not justified, your clownery is woefully out of place— with your wide eyes and pursed lips. Hadn’t you baked your lip liner you're sure with all the pursing you’re doing you could actually be able to look worse. Oh great. Now he's towering over you, he’s just so close that you can't ignore him anymore even if you want to. 

You’ll have to be forced to speak to him. And you shouldn’t have worn these heels because your knees are wobbly -jello even- and your breath is short. On top of that your head is ringing and that really sharp pain under your left breast is trying to poke right through your dress like a blade. Perhaps this is what a stroke feels like. Or, or, a heart attack. 

You shouldn't be feeling like this. You should be thinking of all the times you’ve cried over him, the times you’ve laid on the floor of your bathroom asking yourself what you did so wrong in telling him you love him that he never said it back. You just shouldn’t be thinking that he looks fucking good, while he’s looking at you like you’re his pray.

Maybe Mina should have killed you in her bathroom, or in the car. So you wouldn’t be anticipating every step that led Kirishima to you in this very instant.

“Bakugo made the canapes so you should-”

Kirishima’s hands are almost hovering above your naked waist, you’re almost a puddle and the world is seconds away from disappearing underneath your feet when Mina stomps in between you. She hip bumps him away with a gracious sway and a devious smile.

“Excuuuuuse me” She laughs, you giggle too, while being dragged away from him. 

One breath in and one out eventually make your heartbeat normal. Even while stalling soundly after your friend, your feet are dragging like dead weight.

You will be just fine; Mina will not leave your side, even when you try to slip away. For how dare he approach you without a warning on casual intentions. How could he not even inform you that you're at the basis where you ignore the last few events that have occurred between you? 

At least Mina has some common sense when looking out for you. 

You look at her and she looks back at you and she’s got that disappointed motherly facade that's painted on her features that you can’t bring yourself to like. 

Come to think of it, whether you had or hadn’t wished she could come to your saving there’s a coil spinning ever so slightly in the pit of your stomach about it— it’s fixed by her expression right now. You can't even begin to describe the feeling inside you, can’t still place it in the rage of emotions you recognise. But you're willing to let it simmer to a simple boil in the pits of your stomach for now. Tuck it away until you find a word to title it with. 

A chit-chat with someone else, a smoke with Sero and a swirl on the side of the rooftop that everyone uses to dance and Mina corners you on the edge of the railing between Izuku and Ochako before disappearing into the crowd. Beer in one hand and Ochako clasped in the other you dance awkwardly to a pop song that she knows all the lyrics to. Mina still looks sour, maybe a little less than before though. 

She whispers something to Ochako and you know who it is about, without even having to guess. A thoughtless, drunk mind such as yours right now can only be occupied by facts such as the one before your eyes. The one being whispered about you amongst your friends and another fact that is standing a few feet away from you. 

Desperate eyes fall on desperate ones and you share a look with Kirishima -all you can do apparently- that Ochako doesn’t notice, though she's turned in your direction, as she closes her eyelids and shoots her hands in the air to dance, draggin your poor hand with her. 

This is a plea to dance, but you stand motionless like a wooden pencil. Balanced. You’re not going to dance when Kirishima watches you, because you don’t quite enjoy looking ridiculous in front of him. 

Your stomach takes another twist when you sip some more of your beer. 

He shoots you a silly expression, one you’re accustomed to, one you’ve seen so many times. Averting your eyes, refusing to ruin your mood further, you’re back to your setting; Ochako, Izuku and a Mina that’s back with shots that she obviously shouldn’t have carried on her own, because they’re spilling everywhere. You don't know when she left to go get them, but a glass is shoved in your hands hurriedly. 

You down it and your hands are sticky. 

It’s so hot outside that your skin feels heavy, your dress is sticking to you in the most overstimulating places on your skin.

You find Kirishima watching you when you comply with the itch in your chest to just check on him again and your stomach is doing flips about it—coils that were previously burning in it be damned and all. He’s. Watching. You.

You wonder if it’s just the alcohol, the summer weather, or if you’re genuinely burning alive under Kirishima’s gaze. 

It's almost unbearable, really, that he’s close enough to breathe the same air as you, and yet here you are, locked in this tug-of-war with your own impulses. Fight or flight, or just stand there, paralyzed, pretending you have better things to do with your friends than simply admire the way his stupidly perfect jawline catches the light. It has to look like you’re having fun.

If only you could manage to slip away from your friends, bent on this newly found desire within you to properly greet him. 

You want to play in the scenario of ignoring everything that's happened so far just to fake being kind to him. The shot you had isn't helping at having any clear thoughts at all. 

A good excuse to leave on your own would be to ask for more shots, but you doubt that three people would go fetch them, they'd either take you with them or they would just send the less drunk right now to do so. In this case, Izuku. Which leaves you with two people sworn to keep you away from your red headed target. 

It seems like every plan you come up with sounds absolutely useless before this cerberus that your friends have formed into, transforming your gaze into a deeper level of despair with every thought you throw away from your brain. 

Mina will absolutely not let you leave on your own, unless, if it's to see someone else. You try to think fast, past the buzz inside your head. 

Maybe Jirou, since she's the DJ for tonight. Why wouldn't you want to request a song at your best friend's party? 

Seeing that your new idea is so brilliant you're off without announcing it, slipping through people, shot glasses that clank against each other and a yelling Bakugo who serves as a beacon for Kirishima’s location. Can't lose your favorite man if his best friend is so loud. 

They're so close to where Jirou is, right next to her booth and they're chatting with Kaminari, so until they notice you charging to their direction you straighten your pose and run your hands up and down your dress, in case you need to smooth any wrinkle. It’s not like your walk is as proud as you're hoping it is, given the fact that you have a buzz and there's a ton of people that you have to slip in between, but at least every step gets you closer to your target's location. You'll keep the hot girl facade on as long as you can, though. 

The first sign of your arrival -even if you yourself consider the distance between you too big, still- is that Jirou smiles when she sees you and instantly yells your name. Kirishima, Kaminari and Bakugo look at you at the same time, but it's only Kaminari that smiles along with his girlfriend. 

Jirou hits him softly with her elbow, signing to him to step in the booth so she can come to you and he immediately plugs his headphones in the aux the same time Jirou pounces on you. 

“I haven't seen you all night! How are you?”

“I'm okay” You say, opting to glare at Kirishima for only a second. “I'm on Minachako arrest!” He stares back. 

“Ohh,” She pauses to think, and her thoughts land her just behind her back “Eiji?”

All your friends know you. Too well for your own good. It's almost making your skin crawl. 

“Yeah”

Jirou looks at you like she actually understands you. With lips pressed in a thin line on the side of her face and eyebrows furrowed in what resembles pity; she places her glance back and forth between you and the redhead. 

“You could talk to him”

“Oh absolutely not, it's okay, we did greet each other”

There it is; your million dollar, Oscar worthy performance. You pretend to be so nice about it, yet, you speak loud enough so that Kirishima cocks an eyebrow in your direction, smacking his lips. You need to smile in triumph now that your plan has worked.

“But” She pauses, unsure if what she wants to tell you is correct “he's right there. Come on”

“It’s complicated,” you mutter, turning back to Jirou and taking a long, burning sip of your drink.

“Complicated,” she repeats, deadpan. “Yeah, no kidding.”

“Right,” she drawls, rolling her eyes. “like it's totally normal behavior to stare at someone like you want to eat them alive but not actually say anything. Y'all need to grow up. Both of you”

Your eyes dart to Kirishima before you can stop yourself. He’s still there, still looking, and it feels like the moment freezes when your gazes collide. The playful smile that tugs at the corners of his lips is like a match to a gasoline-drenched nerve.

You look away first.

‘Grow up.’ That's such bullshit. You're both all grown up. Grown ups make humiliating choices all the time. 

You deadpan Jirou, pouting your lower lip. She raises her hands in mock surrender, but there’s a knowing glint in her eyes that you hate.

“I just wanted to request a song though”

“Kay! Denki! Song request!”

You don't dare tell her you only used her as an excuse to get to Kirishima and you definitely can't tell her you're so glad you found him there. So you turn to Kaminari, looking somewhat like a wet dog, as if he would ever let you leave this down had he not been drunk and tell him the first song that comes to your mind. 

Your request is a transition away and your body is pressed next to Kirishima's faster than you can process. Should it actually feel so awkward to be a winner? 

Despite the eternally painful awkwardness of your body language, you could kiss Jirou on the mouth for playing devil's advocate right now. She simply smiles in a way only she thinks is subtle, because truthfully everyone sees, but you're so past the embarrassment of your intentions being known. 

In a way that's smoother than water, she grabs Bakugo and pulls him to her, for a hug, and both you and Kirishima chuckle when he whines and tries to throw her hands away from him, to no avail. 

Had you been Kaminari, you'd cry your eyes out daily at how good a relationship she's got with Bakugo. 

“He's still acting like this?” You ask, for no one but Kirishima to answer. He's the only one who listens to you nonetheless. 

“Well you do hang out with him, you know him.”

Ouch. 

You've expected a remark like this from him, coated in irony so it's not like he catches you off guard with his tone. It's the context in which he speaks his words that's infuriating. Your face grows sour, in realization of his complaint, lips pouting when you think you also hate it that the two of you share most of your friends. 

And yet, instead of actually barking back like you'd always do, you roll your eyes at him, completely consumed by that well known feeling that is him making you mad. The shaking, the weak knees, the empty feeling in your stomach; you've not felt that in so long that it seems like you're able to experience emotions again. 

Εven if that's not something you want to dwell on, given that there are a thousand negative emotions and a lot of crushed healing journeys hidden behind it, you choose to only look at him again - since that’s the only thing you can both physically do for the night, back turned against Jirou and Bakugo, finally, so you can inspect the people dancing on the rooftop, once you decide Kirishima is not a sight for sore eyes.

He meets your eyes with a tilt of his head even if his body is turned facefront and towards his friends. None of you notice how quiet Jirou, Denki and Bakugo are, and even if you did, you both would consider that it’s only because you can’t listen to them over the loudness of the music.

There's a peculiar shift in the air between you, something that screams for salvation like a prey, trapped in a beast's sharp mouth. It's just the nuisance of the two of you, the tenderness of a moment that shouldn't exist outside of shared memories. 

Yet here you are, same as him, totally engulfed and engrossed in the twilight of it. 

The nature of the pull that's still evident between the two of you blooms and spurts seeds of painful flowers in your lungs. 

You lick some of your lipgloss, longing for a taste that's sweeter than the bitter feeling in your chest and it's no use; the poison that’s dripping within your insides is contributing to the ignition of a fire that no cherry flavored lip gloss can put out.

You put so much effort to just say “I won't do it anymore then” just for his voice to overlap yours. 

“Dance a little”

Your dislike for what he spurt out is too evident in your face, but your expression softens when he wiggles a hand underneath the railing your chest has weighted on, to pull you closer to him.

Does his hand have to feel so warm?

You’re stuck side to side with Kirishima and your small audience is left speechless; Bakugo averts his eyes, mouth all wide before he shoots Jirou’s hands off him, ready to walk away again, but you don’t notice, you wouldn’t even if you could, not when Eijiro’s palm wraps so smoothly around your waist. There’s nothing to see, not even for Jirou, in your small corner. Your lack of interest in your surroundings confirms that.

He gives you a shake, the smallest one, to just introduce some movement to your body and you follow his lead blindly as he handles you in front of him, back pressed against his chest. It’s so smooth that you let yourself go, ignoring that silly voice in the back of your head that tells you you’re going to embarrass yourself if you dance with him.

Big hands rest on where your hips start, at the curve of your waist but they don’t apply pressure. He sways with you, bobs his head when you do and you don't seem to remember that he never dances either, hell you don’t even remember you don’t.

It feels so good to just link your body like this with his, with his breath cooling your neck. If it wasn’t the middle of the summer and you weren't dripping in sweat you would dare to move even more. For a few more moments, you let him move your body the way he pleases as the music moves him.

Your buzz is delicious right now, so much that you can’t even decide if what's going on is actually true. Your hips work, finally, beyond his hands and you’re grinding against him, before you even realise it.

The monster that resides deep within your thoughts awakens your lust and eats away every possible thought that could lead you to rejecting his touch.

The tips of Kirishima’s fingers dig into your hip bone, snatching a handful of satin clothed skin and he presses you impossibly onto him. You whine your hips to his, eyes closed, ignoring the twitch between your legs when he rests his forehead to the crook of your neck just so he can muster up the courage to move his hands in exploring a body that’s so well known to him.

In a big effort to try and show him that you want him too, you wrap one arm around his head, touching his face, the back of his neck, the dimple on top of his shoulder through his shirt. 

From that moment on it's like you’ve unleashed a beast.

The thin, elastic band of your underwear softly snaps against your skin -is this too fast?- and you can't think of anything other than how firm the pads or his fingers are -were? always have been?- over your dress. Your stomach sinks inside your skin and bones.

This is you slowly giving in to him again. Empty headed. Teary eyed. Pressed onto him for dear life.

You barely feel the vibration of your phone, too engulfed in this moment of finally getting what you want and for a while it’s easy to ignore it, like it doesn't happen. It never even rang. But your eyes shoot open when you come to your senses, a few more rings in.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

Mina.

You split yourself from Kirishima so fast, it could actually sound like ripping paper in half. Like velcro on shoes. 

“What?” He asks, brows furrowed. He looks like a child whose christmas gift has been ripped away from his hands by his sibling. His hands even maintain their hold on you. 

“Fuck i gotta go! Mina will kill me”

“You could—wait! I wanna talk!”

You look at him exactly how he deserves with the nonsense he’s speaking, in disbelief and confusion. Talk? Even if you did stay to talk, Mina would find you, anywhere. You’re still contemplating whether this girl has made you eat an airtag without you realising and the fact that you’ve even managed to slip away from her for this long is remarkable.

It's as simple as this; Ochaco may not get mad at you if she catches you with Kirishima, she might just give you ‘a talk’, but Mina will absolutely murder you.

Rightfully so. You're hidden away from the friends that want nothing but you to be well, with the only person that is able to send you to psychosis in the case he decides it's so funny to break your heart again. And you danced with him, in front of your friends.

Everyone must think you’re an idiot. And Kirishima, he just might know it for sure. Talking is nothing but an excuse to get you to hook up with him.

You shake your head instead of responding ‘no’ to him and wiggle yourself away from him, ready to run to Mina.

_________

As you weave your way through the crowd, you’re hyper aware of everything—your pounding heart, the lingering warmth of Kirishima's touch on your skin, and the faint scent of his cologne that still clings to your dress. The guilt gnaws at you with every step, but it’s drowned out by the electric buzz in your veins. Mina is going to tear you apart, but somehow, the bigger fear isn’t her wrath; it’s the thought of looking back and seeing Kirishima standing there, watching you leave again.

When you finally spot Mina across the rooftop, she’s mid-laugh with Ochaco, drink in hand, her head thrown back as though she hasn’t a care in the world. Relief surges through you.

When you think of it, there's no possible way in the whole known and unknown universe that Mina and Ochacko don’t know where you had been for all the while you were gone. No matter how much you fix your dress, your hair, no matter how much lipgloss you reapply, you reek of Kirishima's heavy cologne, or so you believe, and your heart has ceased to exist. 

Their eyes look nothing but innocent, deprived of any mean thoughts concerning you and the redhead, hell you're not even sure they could imagine you would find ways to facilitate a plan to just get some time alone with him. 

It's so splitting, they're not stupid enough to believe this. The issue is they probably trust you enough to not do such a thing. 

You steel yourself, pulling your best ‘everything’s fine’ expression onto your face and saunter over as casually as you can muster. But Mina’s sharp eyes catch yours almost immediately, and her smile falters just slightly. 

“Where have you been?” she asks, her tone deceptively light but laced with the edge of suspicion. You are not surprised.

“Just… talking to Jirou,” you reply, keeping your voice steady as you point in the vague direction of the DJ booth. It’s technically true. At least for a moment.

Mina smiles at you, warmly this time, Ochako smiles at you again but your head is buzzing. You're too nervous, almost blurting everything in a tone of denial. I definitely didn't dance with Kirishima while I was at it.

“Thank god, I thought you were with him again. I started to get so worried”

Your stomach drops, and the heat rushes to your face. Did she see you?. Mina always sees and it's nerve wracking to wait for confirmation on her part.

“I wasn’t-" You try to deflect, but her raised eyebrow silences you. Lying would only dig you deeper into the hole you’re already in, but you do it anyway “I'm a big girl, Mina, I told you.  Just went to request a song from Jirou.” Technically, that is true.

You glance at Ochako, whose gaze softens when she meets yours. She offers you a small smile, and you feel a twinge of guilt. If anyone is going to see through your facade, it’s her.

“Did Jirou play it yet?” Ochaco asks, sipping from her cup and you nod in response.

“Did you see Kirishima over there? Bakugo’s being his usual loud self, so I bet they’re hanging out by the booth. He’s hard to miss.”

Your stomach twists at the mention of his name, but you keep your face neutral, shrugging casually. Mina raises an eyebrow at you, her grin turning sly. “You sure you didn’t go over there just to sneak a peek?”

Ochaco gives her a light nudge. “Mina, leave her alone. She’s probably just trying to enjoy the party.”

“I am enjoying the party,” you say, forcing a lightness into your tone, bopping your head to the side like it's the most natural thing in the world.

There's anxiety running in your bloodstream with every spoken word, making your hands shake. Even when you want them to believe you, you're not entirely sure they do and your tummy is churning. 

“Great, just don’t stroll off on your own!”

Ochako smiles and places her hand on your shoulder “Mmh, Mina relax, the night is young”

“OCHAKO!” Mina screams “m'not leaving her outta my sight” 

She's warmer than the hot summer air when she wraps her arms around you from behind, excited to place a lipstick stained kiss over your hair, right where your ear is. 

In any other scenario you wouldn't feel so suffocated. But you lied to her, slipped away from her and grinded against him for no other reason than giving in to your carnal desires when she just wants to desperately keep you away from someone who’s been cruel to you. Secretly, dizzy in your buzzed out state, you hate the remembrance that it's fine when she goes back to her exes. 

Whatever it is you feel, you don't speak on it once you realize that the churning pit in your stomach is your need to pee -such a relief- and you inform your friends you are going to the bathroom, in case you can escape the back and forth movement of Mina's sway while she's got you in her arms. 

“Kay i’m coming with you” Mina says and lingers her fingers in between yours.

You roll your eyes, laughing along even though the tension in your chest refuses to ease. “You don’t have to, I'm not going to see him there too.” 

But she comes, nonetheless, almost skipping the steps downstairs and through the hall of Sero’s house. It’s too hot inside, it’s too humid outside and yours and Mina’s sticky hands merged together are almost giving you a sensory hell; Perhaps it was a good idea to let her come with you to the bathroom, so both of you can wash your hands from spilled booze and gathered sweat. 

Every step you take is frenzied, and she notices, being the better alcohol handler that she is in comparison to you. Your mind is a warzone, flashing images of Kirishima's hands on your waist, reminding you of the way his forehead pressed against the curve of your neck, the heat of his body against yours. You shake your head, trying to snap yourself out of it. Mina doesn’t know. She can’t know. If you act normal, everything will be fine.

The bathroom is your personal oasis, a sole chance of salvation, to tuck yourself away from everyone for even a few moments. 

You go in first and in seconds you’re done, allowing Mina to go inside after you. You don’t look at yourself in the mirror, scared to see anything in your makeup that isn’t perfect. You’d rather not be aware of something you ultimately can't fix. 

With your back against the wall, you find some of the coolness of it almost soothing. For a moment, you almost feel normal, safe, like you can forget the whirlwind of emotions threatening to pull you under.

Almost, because concrete drinks up the heat worse than a sponge does water, almost, because that red haired devil announces himself to you all of a sudden again. It'd be silly to think you can actually escape him when you've infiltrated his mind. Assuming you've managed to rile him up. 

He wouldn't have followed your tail to the bathroom had you not done so. Right? 

Nonetheless, your heart stops as Kirishima’s voice cuts through the muffled music in the distance.  He’s closer than you expected, leaning casually against the doorframe at the far end of the hall. His eyes meet yours, warm and intense, and you feel your throat tighten.

This time he greets you casually again, with “Mina’s in?” 

Oh dear god how you wish to escape him. 

You shoot him what you can only hope to be one of your most murderous looks and reply. “Yeah” 

“Cool. I’ll wait”

Panic flashes through you. Mina is just a few feet away, the bathroom door closed but the lock undone. She could walk out any second and catch the two of you like this. Your brain screams at you to do something -anything- to put distance between you and him. But your body betrays you, frozen in place.

There’s so much effort put into being silent or not looking at him that you think you’re going to burst. Whatever cool girl persona you’re trying and failing to put on is just… so, so bad. You wonder if there’s anything you can do, or say, to just ease this. Ask him how he’s been? Anything? No? You did grind the entirety of your ass against his groin just a little while ago. So you're not sure it's really appropriate to casually ask anything like that. 

“Listen i-” He speaks first, like he can read your mind but this time you are the one to overlap your voices.

“What are you doing here?” you manage, your voice barely above a whisper but still authoritative.

Kirishima tilts his head, studying you for a moment before answering. “Looking for you.” He clears his throat before he continues “I wanted to say.. I hope you’ve been okay”

You huff in response.

“Don’t want to talk to me? That’s fine” he pouts. And you suddenly think you can forget that time you thought you could die from how much you had been crying about the heartbreaker that he is. “You did dance with me though”

“You shouldn’t be here,” you hiss, glancing toward the bathroom door.

“I know,” he interrupts, stepping closer. Not enough to breach your space entirely, but enough that you feel the heat of his presence. 

You want to tell him a drunken dance isn't enough to have the two of you on casual terms again. But while studying his face, you come across realities you just need to ignore. 

His lips are so plum, his nose is so delicate, the strands of hair that fall from his low bun are so magical. It’s really no wonder what you've ever liked in him. You’ve liked everything. It's so infuriating. He shouldn’t really be doing this to you. Because every minute MIna takes in the bathroom is a minute that you forget the past. And you look at his chest so you don’t look him in the face but he looks so soft. It could actually kill you—but It just makes you mad instead.

“Why do you care how I've been?” you ask.

He leans on his bicep, right onto the wall, right next to you. 

His hair is so wild. The carmine of his eyes is too piercing for that expression that’s adorning his face. And oh dear god his arms are huge. You're so ruined by him and it kills you to realize that you already knew that and you're still choosing to engage with him. 

Eijiro Kirishima looks soft— he’s so far from it. Alas, for some reason you mimic him so much that you’re standing face to face. There’s not an answer to your question, not a direct one at least and you tell yourself it's because he does care about you. Just not in the way you care about him. 

The two of you stare at each other for what seems like an eternity, lips tucked tightly under teeth and crossed armed. One is determined to break a wall, the other trying to crawl up that wall with blood, sweat and tears.

“You know i-”

“No i don’t” You cut him off and he leans in impossibly closer. “Don't say it”

You’re suddenly aware of how long his eyelashes are and this party isn’t fun anymore. 

The tension between you could snap the air in two. Kirishima’s gaze locks onto yours, heavy and unyielding, and your heart is pounding so hard you swear he can hear it. Every nerve in your body screams at you to push him away, to step back, to run—but you don’t. You can’t. His presence is magnetic, pulling you into his orbit against all reason.

The bathroom door creaks slightly, and both your heads snap toward the sound. It’s still closed. Mina’s still inside. But the reminder of her so close, the precariousness of this situation, sends a wave of panic crashing over you.

“Go,” you hiss, your voice trembling with the effort to keep it steady. “Before she comes out.”

You move your hands as in to go and push against his chest when ultimately, you decide not to— and so you awkwardly stand with your hands hanging mid air. You’re unsure of what to do with them.

Kirishima, however, doesn’t budge. He stays exactly where he is, his arm braced against the wall beside you, his body a shield between you and the rest of the world. His lips part, and you think he’s going to argue, but instead, he says something that takes your breath away.

“I miss you.”

You try to hold on to your anger, your hurt, but it slips through your fingers like specs of sand. It doesn’t matter that you can’t fall for this again. His bluntness, the way he speaks it like it’s a given fact that you should absolutely know on your own, kills you.

“Kirishima,” you start, your voice sharp but still wavering. The bathroom door clicks open before you can have a chance to reply, to even weave a coherent sequence of words with your weakened thoughts, and Mina steps out, immediately clocking the two of you. Her eyes narrow, suspicion flaring to life as she takes in the scene. You push yourself off the wall, putting some much needed space between you and Kirishima.

You look at her with your mouth agape and your hands still dance awkwardly before your chest.

Mina swoops her hand and locks her elbow into yours in the right -or rather wrong- time and you’re dragged away from Kirishima again. He, in return, chuckles in amusement like he knows better and as the music starts to become loud and clear in your hearing and you’re drifting away from him, watching him as he turns smaller and smaller with your every step you realise— this party can be fun again. 

Your friend is furious this time, though, muttering something like “you cannot be left alone for a second”. That horrible coil in your stomach is back “You’ll just stay by me the whole night”

You’re tossed on cushion and if your heart trying to jump out of your chest wasn’t enough to make your whole body shake, Mina plops right next to you, imprisoning you to your seat. 

Thus, you find yourself trapped, like a highschooler on detention, with half your heart up your sleeve, on one of the couches that are on the rooftop, squeezed between Tetsutetsu and Mina, blinking at their conversation about a recent paper they had to finish for one of their shared classes. You’re so naturally bored out of your mind and drunk and all you can think about is the way Kirishima looked at you outside of the bathroom.

The words he spoke. 

Your first instinct to make this wave of boredom -and these poisonous thoughts- wash away from your mind and body, is to open your phone and scroll through Instagram, refusing so profoundly to even acknowledge the only conversation you get to hear at a party in the middle of the summer is about university.

Quick and as instinctively as it gets, you glance at the pink and yellow gradient of Instagram story icons, and you tap at the screen fast, pretending you haven’t seen Kirishima's icon lined up at the top of your homepage, bright green adorning it. 

Mina sees. 

Strike one.

You tap out, faking a small scroll on your homepage as you swipe the screen, carefully, eyeing the conversation with Kirishima that screams unread. You're sure, if this notification could speak, i’d be screaming at you to open it like a caged and hurt tiger cub. 

Naughty fingers linger just above it and you wish you too had a privacy screen right now, like Mina, because all you can do is sink into the soft pillow of the couch, elbows close to your waist. You almost think you have shielded yourself away from her.

Eyes scanning the area, you manage to spot Kirishima. And he spots you instantly. You don’t smile at each other, you don't wave, there’s nothing you can do to cover for what he said to you a few minutes before because Mina made it awkward. 

You just blink at him, slowly and he eyes you up and down. Legs, hair, face, shoulders, the phone in your hands and then your eyes again.

Both Tetsutetsu and Mina see. 

Strike two.

He reaches for his pocket, frantically searching for his phone—perhaps he's not as clueless as they get, after all. With a quick lock of gazes that speak in the same, delinquent language of lust, you open the chat while he unlocks his phone. 

Strike three. 

Mina snatches your phone. 

Tetsutsetu looks at you apologetically but your furrowed brows and your perked ears shoo him away from even steering a word. You're angry, mad, furious, that your best friend is treating you like you're her property. Like you should hereby follow her orders like they're vital. 

“This is so not funny. Give me my phone” You yell, even if the music is louder than your voice and extend your open palm to her, expecting your device to be handed to you.

“Absolutely not. You’re gonna text him.”

“And what’s it to you? Why do you care so much?”

Your friend widens her eyes in confusion, anger, sadness. You know you shouldn’t have said that, with how much she’s been by your side all this time but her behavior tonight is crippling you. It's suffocating you. If you want Kirishima and he wants you, then there’s absolutely nothing that your friends can do to stop the two of you. You wanna have your heart ripped out again and have the pieces fed to you by force? Fine—not fine, really, that heartbreak almost killed you, but it should be your choice!

You want to scream. You want to yell at her, at Tetsutetsu, at the universe for orchestrating this whole damn night against you. Instead, you grit your teeth so hard you can feel your jaw tighten and pull at your temples.

Mina’s holding your phone like it’s the nuclear launch codes, her lips pursed into a line that’s both furious and disappointed and her ponytail bops. It’s not a look you’re unfamiliar with tonight, but that doesn't make it sting any less. And there’s Kirishima, somewhere in the periphery, probably wondering why you haven’t texted him yet, silently demanding a response from you- probably thinking about that goddamn dance and how easy it is for him to pull you back in and make you nervous with his confession.

Your chest heaves as you force yourself to take a breath.

“I’m not a child, Mina,” you say, your voice barely above the music, but it’s sharper than glass, intended to be mean. 

Mina crosses her arms, holding your phone to her chest like she’s guarding your entire future. “No, you’re just acting like one. What’s your plan here, huh? Just let him screw you over again?”

Tetsutetsu shifts awkwardly beside you, eyes flicking between the two of you like he’s waiting for someone to call timeout. It gets worse when you think that he’s friends with the person you're fighting with Mina about.

“This isn’t about you!”

Mina yells something incoherent back and you decide you can't just ruin her party because you want that red devil to eat your heart out. You are not a bad friend. But the frustration and heat of the night makes your blood boil. “Why do you care so much if I want to talk to him?”

“Because you’re my friend!” Mina snaps, stepping closer, her voice trembling just enough to let you know she’s holding back from bursting to tears. “Because I saw what he did to you last time. Because I care about you more than that asshole ever will!”

It feels like she’s just punched you in the chest. It pains you more than the notion that you’re the terrible friend that’s making her cry on her birthday. And maybe she has a point—maybe she’s entirely right- but you’re so tired of everyone else deciding what’s best for you, like you’re some fragile thing that’ll shatter if you make one wrong move, just because they’ve all watched you break once doesn't mean they can stop it from happening again. It’s your own heart that’s to decide if the need to shatter again is or isn’t vital.

“But you’re friends with him!”

“Uh, maybe we should all just, you know, calm down?” Tetsutetsu interferes awkwardly, glancing between you and Mina.

Her face twists into something unreadable because you’re right, and for a second you think she’s going to throw your phone off the rooftop just so you can avoid him. But she sighs, loud and sharp and shoves the device into your hand. There's no real winning when he's in the same space as you. Whether you have your phone or not, it's pointless. 

“Fine. Whatever.” She turns away, her arms folded tight across her chest “Do what you want.” She yells, finally, and your eyes are too watery to notice hers are a mirror of yours.

You don’t move at first, your heart still pounding, the weight of the phone in your hand feeling like it might just crush you. Tetsutetsu mutters something about grabbing another drink and slips far away, leaving you and Mina in silence, the distant bass of the party the only thing keeping the moment from completely unraveling.

“Go ahead. Text him. Meet him. Fuck him all you want. Let him stomp on your heart all over again. But don’t say I didn’t warn you and don’t come crying to me afterwards either.”

Her words sting more than you want to admit, it’s evident in your face when you mutter that you want to go home.

Mina softens her eyes immediately at that. Maybe you both took it too far, but there’s no satisfaction in the kindness she tries to show you when she goes to hug you. She’s not the one who looks like she’s going to burst into tears anymore. You are. And you avoid her open arms, choosing to back away.

You take a step back, avoiding her touch like it burns. The lump in your throat feels like it might choke you, and the tears threaten to spill over. “I can’t do this right now,” you say, your voice trembling. “I need space.”

Her hands drop to her sides, and her face falls, stricken. “I didn’t mean-” she begins, but you shake your head, cutting her off.

“I’ll be fine,” you say, though you’re not sure if you believe it. “I just need some air.” backing away further. The music, the party, the noise; it all fades into the background as you turn and weave through the crowd, desperate to escape. Desperate to breathe.

You don’t know what makes you look up, but when you do, before you storm off the party and leave Mina to have her fun without having to look out for your excuse of an ass,  your eyes find Kirishima again, like they always do tonight. He’s still standing there, leaning against the edge of the rooftop with one hand in his pocket, his head tilted just slightly as he watches you.

You wish this was one of the times you could confide in him about the problems that you’re facing, as you’ve done so a lot of past times, but it’s so hard to want him when he’s not even willing to do that anymore. You’re not sure you can trust him with your heart again. Part of you just wants to behave to Mina’s advice. You just want to be a good friend.

You fall victim to the ghost of stomping off at parties every time you’re invited to one and to think that this would be different would be a false hope. The worst is that this time everyone is here to witness it. You’re gone, slipping past the crowd and toward the stairs, your heart pounding louder than the music.

______

If you could physically cool down in the middle of the summer, from that nasty attitude of yours to your best friend and that need for a douchebag that will chew you and spit you again, you would. The trick of sticking your open back to any concrete wall is so banal by now. Your legs are shaking. The cigarette you’re smoking is almost out -halfway- and you feel so emotionally tired that you don’t even want to light it up again.

You want to go home, somehow, even considering getting yourself an Uber so you can get out as fast as you can. Mina is everywhere watching over like a tyrant and so is Kirishima. They've been hot on your every step.

But Kirishima's too good at finding you when you're not even trying to hide. 

He finds you -hidden this time- on the outside of that small kitchen door that leads to the backyard of Sero’s house. Although he doesn’t ask you if you’re alright, your lips are pouted, your eyebrows scrunched into a line in the middle of your forehead. He knows that you're mad since he's inflicted anger on you a thousand times before. 

“Shoo. I'm not supposed to talk to you” You almost bark, not even looking at him, yet, he simply ignores it. He wants to talk to you and there's nothing you can do to stop him. 

“Mina doesn’t allow you to? huh”

You cringe at his chuckle and he giggles again. It's almost hard to believe they were such good friends all these years ago. But you do confirm what he asks when you don't reply. You're so tired of wishing it was different and you really want to go home. Avoid all this trouble, avoid him, avoid getting swooned by him. 

“Ahh, you know-”

It's just a few syllables and you're locked in his eyes, heart palpitating as red fills everything in your vision. Whether it's him or the hotness of your feelings.

The coil in your stomach is back—finally, as if it ever left- revealing itself as dread and anger for everyone. Anger for Mina trying to force you to act a certain way, anger at Kirishima for not leaving you alone, anger at yourself for giving him a chance to make you fold again. You choose to bark when you can't bite. There's no universe in which you win a fight over Kirishima. 

“You look like you want to say something,” he says softly, stepping closer, his tone both curious and coaxing.

Your hands ball into fists at your sides, nails biting into your palms as you try to steady yourself. The ache in your chest sharpens as the weight of everything presses down on you. You can’t hold it in any longer. You’re so angry and confused.

“No, fuck you. Go back to the girlfriend that you love so much”

For a moment, his expression flickers. Surprise, then hurt, flashing so quickly you almost miss it. Then his lips curl into a smirk, the sharp edge of it cutting through the tension like a blade.

“Awww..Thought you knew we broke up, when you unblocked me and all”

Oh so he’s playing you. Great. 

Your stomach churns. The way he says it, so casual, so smug, choking on a little laugh while he’s at it, makes your blood boil. You cross your arms, leaning against the cool brick wall as if it could shield you from his presence.

“You think this is funny?” you snap, glaring at him.

“Not at all,” he says, his smirk softening into something more genuine, something more infuriatingly earnest. “I just think it’s interesting.”

“Interesting?”

He shrugs, his broad shoulders moving effortlessly, the motion somehow both casual and loaded. “You’re still this angry. Still... passionate.”

“Passionate?” you echo, the word sour on your tongue. Had you been passionate about it he still wouldn’t be seeing the end of it. You thought he knew you like that. “I’m pissed. There’s a difference.”

“Sure there is.” His voice is calm, maddeningly so, as he leans a little closer. “But I think you’re pissed because you still care.”

His words hit like a slap, the kind that stings and lingers long after. The kind that leaves an angrily red handprint after. You want to deny it, to tell him he’s wrong, but the words won’t come. Instead, you press your palms against the wall behind you, your nails scraping against the rough surface.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you mutter. It lacks the venom you wish it carried, because you hope he does the opposite of what you’re saying.

He doesn’t back off. Instead, he tilts his head slightly, studying you like he’s trying to read a book that’s just out of reach. “You ever think maybe I’m still bothering because I care too?”

That shuts you up. Your mouth opens, but no sound comes out. The weight of his words hangs heavy between you, thickening the already charged air.

Is it more embarrassing that he knows what exact action lies behind your thoughts or that he’s calling you on it? He could have stayed silent and spared you of this uncomfortable notion that finally answers to his name and you could have tried not to speak any venom at him with your words. You’ve always found yourself unable to, alas, even when you told him you love him, it was meant to hurt him, more than it meant to take that weight off your chest. So why hold back now of all times? 

“I meant what i said before. And I know that you meant that you loved me when you said it.”

Standing face to face with him is inevitable at this point. He’s not so keen on pushing his back against the wall anymore, seeing that you don’t turn to face him again, not even once, and he’s determined to face you. You look at him tired, by blinking into his eyes and you’re so thankful for the safety distance he puts in between the two of you. 

For the first time tonight he’s looking at you apologetically and he even waits until you put out your cigarette to open his arms in front of your very eyes.

It’s a welcoming invite which you receive with disbelief, but he doesn’t ask if he can hug you. He just does. Two fucking seconds is all it takes until you’re burying yourself into him. The crook of his neck. That soft spot that emits his scent the strongest. It’s too tender against your nose. Perhaps he's tender too. 

You’re melting; Whether it's sweat or a tear that you’ve tried so hard to contain in your lower eyelids, there's something about him that’s turning you into a puddle. Right here, right now. Perhaps, your soft spot for Kirishima is really so physical. That devil of a man moans into the crook of your neck and you know he’s smiling without having to witness it to make sure. 

It’s refreshing in such a twisted way to know you can’t get away from each other.

An eternity later, when you pull back, with empty arms, he reaches for his pocket, sweetness emitting from the expression on his face. Thick fingers idle on a bent roll of a cigarette that's too big to just be filled with normal tobacco. 

“Wanna smoke with me?” He asks and plops right next to you on the wall -his and yours original spot- to which you shrug in response. What’s the worst that could happen? 

You had a drag or even two a little while ago, in the presence of Sero and there’s not enough alcohol in your system -you think- to make you spiral. Even if the blunt that Kirishima is holding is fatter than the ones you would normally smoke with a whole bunch of people, there’s really no harm in just a little. It'll help you unwind, just so you don't choke him with your bare hands at the cost of your heartbreaks. 

Your lighter is used to light the blunt in between his lips and everything around you suddenly smells like sativa. Kirishima takes a long drag, his eyes slipping shut “Ahh, that’s the stuff” He says and moves his hand accordingly to pass it to you.

So generous. You could cry.  For a moment, you forget how much you hate him. It’s in the way his lips curl around the blunt, casually unbothered, like he has all the time in the world to figure you out. “What?” he asks, tilting his head like he doesn’t already know the answer. 

You glance at the lit end as he offers it to you. The unspoken invitation hangs in the humid summer air. You take a drag and pass it to him again, careful to let the smoke linger in your lungs as you count the seconds before you exhale. 

Fingers touch and stay there. It’s enough to send a jolt through your already frayed nerves and you try not to ponder over the question on whether his hands are hot because of you or the hot summer weather. Closing your eyes for a second, you decide to open them in his direction just to find him already staring at you.

“Shut up,” you mutter. 

“You gonna let me smoke this whole thing by myself?”

The smoke burns going down, but the buzz hits almost instantly, and you let out a shaky breath. “I’m not doing this because of you.” You snatch it from him. He laughs, low and quiet, like he’s savoring some private joke you’ll never be in on.

“Sure you’re not.”

You don’t dignify that with a response. That idiot thinks he knows all about you, even the unspoken. That's so far from your own truth. 

Everything around you is so muffled and peaceful. The party is an eon away and Kirishima doesn’t utter a word. Heaven. But it lasts so little, now that your thoughts are dizzy again, every minor word you could jab at him is woven and hidden under your tongue. Your heads are itching to get closer and closer.

You turn to look at him again but you can’t hold a laugh in. The situation is hilarious on its very own when you think about it. You’re hidden away with the only person you’re never supposed to acknowledge ever again and he’s laughing back at you for laughing in his face. You danced with him, tried to message him, you stared at each other too much, like you're both insane. 

There's no normal, or humane way to approach anything that has to do with the two of you together and it would be a lie if you said you hadn't missed this. 

The more smoke enters your lungs the more you feel like you're loosening up, stiff shoulders finally relaxed.

This new point of view is fun; foreheads almost clashing, crossed staring. You'll try to keep away from him as much as you can, but he breaks that uncomfortable silence that's otherwise only broken by the occasional sound of inhaling. It’s the way he leans his head back against the wall, exposing the line of his throat, the way his hair falls just right even when it’s sweaty and unkempt. You hate it. You hate him. He’s so unexpected.

The silence between you stretches again, heavy and loaded, but not suffocating this time. You let yourself look at him—really look at him-and for a moment, you see the Kirishima you used to know. The one who made you laugh until your sides ached, who held you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

“I hate you,” you mutter, though there’s no venom in your voice. It’s a feeble attempt to guard yourself, to keep him at arm’s length.

He chuckles softly, and the sound is warm, familiar. “I know.”

You shake your head, your lips twitching into a reluctant smile despite yourself. “You’re insufferable.”

“Maybe,” he agrees, a playful glint returning to his eyes. “But you still haven’t walked away.” The sound of exhaling echoes before he speaks again “Why’d you unblock me?”

You freeze, the blunt paused halfway to your lips. It’s not like you hadn’t expected this question, but you thought you’d have more time to come up with an answer. “I don’t know,” you say. Big lie for a topic you don’t want to actually talk about. 

Kirishima shifts, turning his body toward you just enough to make you squirm, his forehead still on yours even if the laughter has died  “Bullshit.”

You glare at him, but there’s no real heat behind it anymore. “Maybe I was bored. Maybe I wanted to see if you’d embarrass yourself trying to message me.”

He smirks, but it’s softer than usual, like he’s trying not to scare you off. “And? Did I?”

You roll your eyes. “You were predictable.”

“To think I almost didn't come because I didn't want to see you.” In any other instance this phrase would hurt like a bitch. “Bakugo said I shouldn't act like a dick tonight.”

You're not sure if he's referring to you or the party, but you choose to test him, pretending to be oblivious to his advance. 

“Mina won't forgive you if you're a shitty friend to her again”

“Mm I know” He giggles “never meant to be like that”

You don't reply out of nothing but embarrassment. It was you who would kept in contact with Kirishima when Mina had a fight with him, and you acted like a fool, telling her everything about him when he messed up. Something she just didn't do for you when she was friends with him and the two of you were a casual thing. 

Hell, you didn't even know they were this close again before she announced that he'll be at the party. 

Perhaps right now you don't find it in you to give a damn about their friendship. Whenever she's in the middle of you there's only disaster. You'd rather only count on yourself to ruin things with him. 

“I just… I don't care. Treat Mina however she allows you to.” This would usually make him bite, just enough so you could feel sharp canines, but now that he's intoxicated he just smiles softly. How long has it been since you've seen that expression on him? 

“Damn you're so harsh again”

Closed eyes, smile from one ear to another; you have to show him and his stupidly beautiful face that you're not the person he once knew. Your forehead sticks to his with a muffled sound. “Then what'll you do to make me soft?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Suddenly you come to realize, that getting Kirishima back is the easiest thing in the universe. Which just isn't a very good sign, at all. 

Α curious hand travels to your cheek, pushing back a loose strand of hair away from your face and you convince yourself you wouldn’t have accepted this touch if it wasn’t for another reason -no- but he cups the left side of your face so smoothly, your faces still stuck together, that the world is reduced to this hidden part of Sero’s backyard. To just the two of you. 

He’s so not good for you, damaged goods, been with other people that aren't you, you tell yourself in a last frail attempt to pull away, yet your body does not comply with any negative comment about him your mind has to offer to restrain you.

He chuckles for another time and it’s downright annoying how much you want him “I think i'm getting the munchies” 

You’re sold on every single word.

______

Under any other circumstance you’d avoid anything edible in Sero’s fridge given the fact that he owns a snake as a pet. There’s a plateau filled with canapes, there’s soda and there’s beer neatly placed in the vegetable drawer and that’s about all you can see from behind Kirishima’s back. He’s searching frantically for something while you hate how loud the music sounds now, your stomach growls much like his and he obviously hears it. It’s so loud even that he gives one of his searching hands a break and extends it to you, to pull you next to him. Tucked underneath his bicep you’re now met with the heavenly chill of the fridge.

You look up at him while he roams through the fridge, tongue out and lips pressed into a line. This isn’t a hidden place anymore; anyone can walk in and see you hugging. Yet and ever so fortunately your friends seem to have forgotten about the menace of the two of you being together apparently.

Kirishima pulls back from the fridge and closes it, taking the needed chilly air away with the stainless steel door. There’s victory in his hands. An unopened pack of prosciutto and a squeeze bottle of honey. Seeing that you don’t really get a chance to wiggle yourself from his arm, he swings you so that your back is facing the cabinets, your ass hitting the wooden countertop as your dress hitches slightly upwards. 

Big breath in. Slow exhale. His naked knee is in contact with your thigh.

He struggles with the packaging for a second but it doesn’t put up a long fight. With a stomach so viciously hungry his hands win for the second time this evening. With every movement you’re pressed further onto the countertop, but still not on it yet.

A small bite of prosciutto goes onto the tip of his finger and he finally sets his eyes on you. “Mouth” he orders and you open almost instinctively, taking the finger into your mouth. You whine at how salty it is but he’s got the solution for you, trapped in that golden squeeze bottle.

When he has his own share of the delicatessen he drops just a golden bit on the same finger and puts it in your mouth. Finally past your surprised lips, you suckle the honey, gaze fixated on him while his thumb brushes against your upper lip.

So long lip combo. You will not be missed.

“Great idea” You tell him ever so content. Everything is so balanced in your little bubble right now. Even the way he sucks the same finger into his mouth.

One more round of prosciutto means one more round of honey and you almost wonder if he came up with this on the spot, or if he’s ever done this before. You’ve never seen him with such menace in his red eyes. He’s just so evil.

Even more so, when he squeezes more honey on his finger and smears it against your lips. For a sinister moment everything goes completely silent and static. Your tongue dances on the tip of his finger as he pushes it further and further into your mouth, stroking your chin and your cheek when his hand moves in a circular motion.

“Fuck” He hisses, licking his lips and pulling his finger way from your mouth. The popping sound it makes is enough to get him riled up just enough, so that he grabs your face with his hands. He takes the smallest leap towards you, given the fact that you’re not that far away from each other, smacking his lips on yours.

With a heart that’s heavy as a rainy cloud, you moan at how rough his are. There’s nothing but neediness in his movements, from how he bites your lower lip between his teeth to how his hands just won’t let the sides of your face. You couldn’t even get yourself out of this situation with a written petition.

And when he feels and tastes like everything you remember, you can’t find it in you to kiss him back with the same burning fever. You want to be mean.

You push him away, whispering “Kirishima. Don’t kiss me” but your own hands are on his face too.

“Eijiro” He corrects you, like he hasn’t heard the second part of your words. “Now's not the time for my last name” His thumbs stroke your cheeks, so gentle it makes your chest ache. You hate how good his touch feels, how much you want to lean into it even as you tell yourself you shouldn’t.

He simply doesn't understand your inner turbulence.

“Don’t call me by my last name when I’m about to fuck you”

You’d hate to call him that; Kirishima is nothing but himself and he’s definitely not ‘your Eijiro’ even if you might as well have always been his. There’s just no way of showing him how much you want him while you absolutely hate him. Tonight was never meant to end up like this. you weren't supposed to land on Sero’s kitchen counter, trapped by him, kissing him. You were supposed to be having fun.

So long is the distance between fun and the notion of you doubting everything that’s happening to you at the moment. So short is the route in your brain that combines Kirishima’s behavior that is lust driven to the one you assume is him getting what he wants and chewing you and spitting you out for anyone to have his leftovers.

You count on him to put the invisible block between these two thoughts, to put an end at your turbulence. In the way his nose nuzzles to yours, in the warmth of his body against your own.

The tension is thick in the air between the two of you, and for a moment, his hands linger on your face like he’s memorizing the shape of it. His red eyes are half-lidded, drunk on the moment or the haze of the evening-or maybe just on you.

“Don’t kiss me,” you repeat, but this time it’s weaker, softer, almost like you’re trying to convince yourself more than him. He doesn’t move, doesn’t push forward, but he doesn’t let go either. His thumbs brush over your cheeks, so gentle it’s maddening. Your own lips are barely brushing his and despite what's coming out of your mouth you almost kiss him yourself. 

“You keep saying that,” he murmurs, voice low and raspy. “But you’re not pulling away.”

Your hands are still on his face, and it’s infuriating how good his skin feels under your palms. Warm, alive, familiar in a way that makes you want to scream.

There's so much nuisance in your bloodstream that you kiss him, ignoring whether he can respond or not. It’s not gentle, not sweet—just messy, desperate, and filled with all the things you can’t bring yourself to say. His hands tighten on your waist, pulling you closer, and the world narrows until it’s just him. Just you.

There’s no logic anymore, no reason, just the heat of his mouth, the scrape of his teeth, the roughness of his hands as they grip your thighs and push the hem of your dress higher.

Its decided then, by both of you, when your nails scrape against the nape of his neck desperately, that it's no use in denying each other. The feeling that use to dying both of you to pull away is faint now, reduced to something that resembles burnt out charcoal, ashes of a hateful fire. 

It's a whirlpool of emotions that's pulling you both in after that. It was a mistake to ever think it'd be okay you smoke with him or let him feed you, because your hands move on their own accord, pulling him as close to you as possible, chest heaving and eyes so heavy with teardrops that never dare fall. Your hands grip on everywhere and anywhere on his neck, face and hair that you can land them on. 

Every breath you take through your nose is hitched, like the sniffle of a crying session, but you refuse to part with lips that move in sync with agony. You forgot how good his lips feel on yours, you'll forget once again. Soon enough. 

For now, you block the angst of him and you away and instead, you feel dizzy like you're drowning. In an ocean so vast and dark that it's impossible to try and reach the surface for air. 

There's no word spoken, no other sound, no warning when his hands hitch under the skirt of your dress, angry and desperate to finish what he started when the two of you were dancing all this while ago. The pads of his fingers examine the band of your panties, as if they can tell the color just through that and for a second he stops kissing you, to hiss, breathe and whimper at how soft your skin feels against him. 

You run your fingers through his hair. A disheveled ponytail that finally comes to ruins is the outcome and his revenge is pulling your hips towards him, fingers laced between your panties, barely touching the skin of your ass. 

This time, you hiss. 

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, his voice barely more than a whisper.

You should. You know you should. This is dangerous, reckless, teetering on the edge of something you can’t take back. But instead of pulling away, you find yourself leaning in, your breath hitching in your throat.

“I’m not stopping you”  you admit, your voice soft and uneven. 

You kiss him.

That’s all the encouragement he honestly needs.

He pulls away from your lips with a smacking sound that's louder than the actual music and he tries, he tries to link his forehead against yours when smoking hot hands press against your tummy, just so his thumb can rub a painfully firm swipe across your throbbing clit and you don't let him have this moment in silence. 

You squirm at how delicious his touch is, and you're embarrassed that you feel this way about him still. Since it's just this time, you'll manage. 

You buck your hips into his thumb and squirm, your knees shaking like you’ve been hit by thunder. Embarrassment surges through you.

“Don't look at me” You whisper and throw your legs off the counter to stand on your feet. 

A hand on your waist and a furrowed brow is all that you get in response. After that, you're spun around the counter, released of any control in your own movements. Your right knee is thrown onto the counter, your neck is interlocked in his left hand, your back is stuck to his chest. 

He's smarter than you are, sometimes. 

You can feel how hard his heart is beating against your back, through tons of muscle. He's shaking, but you're not one to judge when you’re in the same position.

The fingers that held your knee against the counter top have already ordered your bones not to move and they're running up the side of your thigh. Grabby and needy as he is, he places a kiss at the crook of your neck when he feels the skin of your cheeks spill through his fingers. 

The departure of his hand upsets you only in the seconds before he gives you a small slap. 

You try to adjust yourself better against him so you don't feel your back hurting as you're stuck on him but it's no use, he applies pressure to your neck in response and hooks his pointer finger under your panties to pull them to the side. Your chest hitches a breath like he stole it from you. 

He's steady with his ministrations, catching some of your slick with his thumb from your entrance and drags it across your slit, landing to your clit, just to rub a few slow circles there. His lips find your shoulder and even though the stubble he has as a goatee hurts when it's poking you, the kiss he plants on your skin is hot- too sensual. 

He keeps rubbing circles against you, gradually introducing a few pinches to your clit when he traps it between his fingers. 

You groan and you yelp; it's unprovoked when his ring finger enters you, too sudden as he keeps rubbing you with his middle one. He's moving freely, in courtesy of how long and thick his fingers are and you're all but at his mercy. A whimpering mess that refuses to plead with him to move faster, or show him any ministration on how to please you most. 

He is aware of how to do exactly that. 

He is aware of every single detail; from how fast he can make you cum, to how much time he needs to prep you for simply the size of him, and you'd be insane to stop him now. One, because you'll die from your own lust if he leaves you empty even for a second and two-

“Fuuuck, don't stop” You whine, only because your head isn't working anymore, your thoughts are gone as he pulls out his finger for only a second. 

You don't see it, with your field of vision being a dark lit image of Sero's toaster on the counter you're on, but you listen to the sound of a finger getting sucked in Kirishima’s mouth. Albeit, you almost moan at the notion that he can't get enough of you. 

He works a second finger inside of you, introduces it with a few circles around your entrance and the sound of a hiss falls from his lips when he does so. He scissors his movements and everything applies pressure to that spot inside of you that has your knees shaking. 

That devious coil in your tummy is back, but now it's much lower, just under the spot where your skin is pressed on the edge of the counter. You're reduced to being a moaning mess of an orgasm that's building up, high off the feeling of Kirishima's fingers pistoning inside of you feverishly. 

He bites his lips hard enough to draw blood at the mere sight; but the faster he works to prep you, the worse it gets for him. His cock is twitching so hard between his legs, tugging uncomfortable at how it's tucked inside his underwear and cargo shorts. Every little moan of yours when he lazily flicks at your clit with the top of his pointer finger,  gets him impossibly harder, to the point he can't just ignore it anymore. 

“What are you-” You almost turn around to eat his heart out when he pulls his fingers out of you, so he can work on his button, his zipper, on the waistband of his underwear. Begrudgingly, your eyes rush to his side and you're too cocky with the anger of a ruined orgasm. 

Despite that, the sounds of his undressing, you respect. Until his palm grasps at the nape of your neck, to force your head to land next to the toaster again. 

“You said you don't wanna look at me, didn't you?”

His cock springs free, just as big and thick as you remember and not a single whine of yours is enough to make him get him to come closer. 

“I said,” You pant “I don't want you to look at me”

With one hand grabbing at his base, jerking himself slowly in a hammer motion, he lets the weight of him slap on your naked ass as he moves to completely bunch up your skirts around your waist. He ignores what you said as it's deemed impossible; there's no way in the whole world he will tear his eyes off of you right now. It's laced in his confession. 

“Fuck, I'm missed this view, so, don’t care. Don't look at. Me.”

You whine as his palms kneed softly at the soft skin of your ass, through layers of your muscle, thumbs so firm they're almost digging in holes on the two spots they've landed so he can spread you open even further. 

His cock moves like it has a brain of its own, leaving trails of precum against your ass and he thrusts his head across your slit a few and agonizingly slow times. You should speak up, tell him how much you love it, tell him you can just cum on the spot from just his cockchead rubbing against your clit like that but you don't want him to have that satisfaction. You don't need him to know he’s making you feel this good when he's barely done anything to you.He's cocky enough already, engrossed in his actions as his tip lines up exactly to your entrance. 

He teases you with his tip again, like he’s gonna torture you until you beg—which you’re not gonna do. Though your eyes roll to the back of your head at the sound of him slapping his dick against your folds. He slides against you again, hips stuttering out with a simple, muffled, motion of a hold back and just like that, when he’s spent on the feeling of squeezing his base so he gets even harder he lines up with your soppy entrance.

He slips right in. No warning, no effort. Your pussy pulls him in.

A guttural moan escapes you, coming from the depths of your chest as he thrusts his head in. The pain of being split open hits you like a wave. It hurts, like every single time you reconcile with him. You always forget that the girth and length of him are too much to not take in gradually. 

But he knows that too. 

“Babe,” he whimpers “Can I move?”

You wince at the desperation in his voice, the use of the nickname paired with it, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. ‘Babe’ how can such a simple word make your stomach twist into a knot? 

“Please-” It's nothing but a whisper, but it comes out of your mouth without much thought. It's needy and silent and full of guilt. 

“Oh fuck I like the sound of that. Say it again”

You hesitate for a moment, hips bucking towards him to take a little more in but he pushes your head down again. 

“Please Eijiro”

“Please what,” He pressures “say it”

“What? No!” 

“Then I could just pull out”

The sound of your mumbling is almost choked by his palm on your cheek, he's not letting go- he's not hurting you either- the pressure is just enough to get his point across because, frankly, the stuttering of his hips doesn't match his words. Had you not been pressed on the counter, you would have bucked away from him to teach him not to play boss with you. For now, you just whine as he pulls completely out of you.

“Eijiro- fuck, please”

“Fuck what?”

“Shit. Fuuuuck”

Eijiro presses his hand on your waist and pins you down, getting a hold of your hair in his hands—fuck, fuck, fuck, the word’s a mantra right now. Fuck it’s so hot, you’ve never even thought you could get this wet over a few motions. 

He growls when he yanks your head just a little upwards and your walls pulsate around nothing.

“Want me to turn you over and fuck your mouth? Huh?”

“N-no” you shake your head.

“Then speak”

You take a mental note; you’re going to chew his head off for this later on. When did Eijiro even learn how to dirty talk like that?

“Me! Fuck me, dammit” You hiss, cheeks are once again trapped between his palm and the cold counter. 

He places another kiss on your shoulder at that, giving your ass an encouraging slap as he chuckles. “There you go”

You feel the head of his cock press against your entrance once again, and despite yourself, you whimper. His hands squeeze your hips tightly as he begins to push inside of you, inch by slow inch. The burn of pain mixed with the heat of desire, making it almost impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins. You grit your teeth against the sensation, trying to ignore the way his cock stretches you open.

You’re so full if him that you could explode.

His voice is so low in his throat, so needy when he says "That's it, baby.”

Then be, once more again before he starts going at a steady pace, bucks his hips time after time, ever so slowly. Had you not been unadjusted to the shape of his cock by now you'd be screaming at him to go faster, but for now, this tortuous pace is as helpful as it's driving you insane. 

It's just the beginning, but the weight in your chest and your heart are starting to be felt. 

“Eiji” You say, eyes closing as you try to hold on to the counter top to no avail. He moans in response, rubbing his palm along the length of the leg that you've bunched up on the surface. 

You've no mind to consider the soreness you'll be feeling tomorrow, really. 

He tries to hook his other hand on your steady knee and you yelp, scared that you're going to fall, that your strength isn't enough to hold your weight in the strange position that you're in right now. 

“Let go of your leg” He pants giving the back of your thigh a few encouraging slaps “give it to me”

You slowly let go of your leg, exhaling shakily in fear of not feeling the ground under your foot anymore. Eijiro takes this as an invitation, his grip on your hips tightening as he helps you wrap your leg awkwardly around him just so he thrusts deeper into you. The sensation is almost overwhelming, too mouthwatering; you can't help but want to arch your back in response, despite being almost unable to.

Hick dick kisses your cervix with every movement, every roll of his hips.

Your breath, despite having been knocked out of your chest, with each of his thrusts, is loud, always conveyed into a moan or a yelp and that’s about all the encouragement Kirishima needs for his thrusts to source more force, more speed. 

His hips slam against yours in a rhythm that matches the pounding of your heart. You cry out in that delicious mixture that’s pleasure and the pain of him splitting you open, your body arching to meet his.

You are evil, sinister, malevolent for both you and him when you plead “Go faster”

He pants, half sober, half drunk as he digs his fingernails into your love handles and bottoms out again. Eijiro's thrusts quicken, his body shaking with the effort to keep up the pace. You can feel his cock pulsing inside you, head hitting every wall inside you as he drives deeper. Your breath comes in short gasps, and your body feels like it's on fire. This is new territory for both of you.

You've never had sex raw before, not even at the start of any session. So every time you squeeze around him, you can feel his veins and he can feel you get wet—wetter. It’s so sloppy, so messy, like it should have been happening all the time, like you two are made just for this.

Both of you whimper. Whether it’s the angle, the pace or the way he slips his hand, ever so subtly to rub lazy circles on your puffy clit, you absolutely cannot control your noises just as much as you cannot find it in you to care about whether you’re louder than the actual music on the party that's happening above.

You try and buck your hips towards him some more, yielding a moaned out version of his name in the process. Everything is just too much and you’ve never been this desperate to cum.

“Fuck babe, you feel so good” Kirishima hisses and your legs tremble 

“Yo-you too” 

“‘Pussy feels s’good, fffuck yeah work those hips for me”

You stretch your hand, in an effort to try to reach him, touch him. Anything to ground yourself to stop the shaking in your legs, but you ultimately cry out in disdain when he grabs your wrist to stop you, pining it on the small of your back. He holds it there for a moment, when his thrusts become slower, rougher, just enough to elicit louder moans from you before he finally lets go, running his hot palm on your back.

“Making me want to fuck you raw forever”

“Ei-” 

The only response you get is a whimper. Half lid eyes that look at your back with so much lust that it should be considered a sin.

You wish you could see his face, to land your eyes on that whiny expression that adorns his face when he’s inside you, but his hand is quick, too hot on the skin of the ape of your neck; he grabs your hair, lifts your head in the process.

“Take it” He whispers and you realize you haven't, in your dizzy state, even sensed him leaning on you to bite on your shoulder. The action alone makes you wince but Eijiro, ever so tender, immediately suckles the spot between his lips, hoping to soothe you, but your legs start shaking even more. “I'll give it to you slow then? ‘kay?”

“Ei” You’re so spent, so unable to call out anything other than his name, gooey walls clenching around him as his thrusts slow down even more. 

You’re so impossibly wet and tight, fluttering and squeezing and tightening around him. Mere seconds away from letting the beast that's gnawing inside you burst into existence. Like a flaming hot explosion. “'M gonna come” You manage to whisper and your stomach twists in an impossible way when Kirishima replies

“Can you wait for me baby, I want us to— fuck— come together”

And as much as you love the sound of that being whispered in your ear, you're not sure you can obey him. He feels that too, suddenly starting to quicken his thrusts while letting go of your hair, pushing it off your face. It's only now that he's so desperately chasing his own release, as you’re clamping impossibly around him, hips working faster than ever. 

“Can I cum in you? Fill you up?” The sound of skin clapping and your squelching with each buck of Kirishima's hips filling the kitchen. Hes’s frantic when you’re deprived of a reply, circling your clit, slapping it, gathering all of your mixed juices and rubbing at you again.

You yell out his name again like a mantra, your orgasm starting to blur out your vision as the top of his cock kisses all the right spots inside you. 

“Please say yes”

You moan.

“Say yes, wanna fill your pussy up.”

You moan again.

It feels so good— his hand on the small of your back, his scent, the notion that this is the worst thing that could happen tonight it all adds up to you finally coming to release all that's pent up tonight. 

—Clank!

From the corner of the kitchen, you hear a loud, unmistakable clatter, followed by the sound of rapid footsteps. Both yours and Kirishima's heads snap to the direction, his name being cut short from falling from your mouth as terror washes through both of you. 

White. 

Hot. 

A voice, too familiar, yells out in a burst of laughter and shock. 

“No fucking way!” Sero’s voice rings out, too high-pitched, way too obvious. “what the fuuuuuuck”

Kirishima locks eyes with him first, taking the first pinch of realisation in his gut, hands doing nothing of sort to shield any of you. There's no initial reaction that can be performed. He's just as deep in mud over this as you are. 

“Dude!” Sero paces his eyes between you and Kirishima as if to point out the profanity. Helaughs again, holding his stomach, never prying his gaze from the scenery in front of him “you guys are impossible. Get a room ‘cuz I want some more beer.”

Your eyes land on him, turn just in time to see his figure disappearing around the corner

heading straight to the direction he just came from, and you whine— both for your ruined orgasm, more so for the fact that you've been caught.

The wave of shame that should be washing over you is nowhere to be seen or felt. 

“No.” You don’t even realize you’ve said it until the words slip past your lips, but the panic that flares in your chest feels real. “No, no, no—he’s not— He's gonna tell— fuck!”

Kirishima swears under his breath, a hand running through his messy hair as he looks at you, his face caught between guilt and desperate frustration. “Shit—”

The two of you stand there, his cock still inside you, despite it starting to go limp, your leg still bunched around his back. Both of you too unsure of what to think, or do, in such situation. 

Seeing that the moment is ruined, that none of you have had enough self control to stop earlier or restrain yourselves, you lower your lifted leg to the ground. 

Kirishima takes the hint immediately. Patting your ass with both his palms for just a little leverage— like he needs it anyway and actually pushes out of you with a loud pop. He tucks his cock in his pants and zips them up in fast movements and actually makes an effort to make you look somewhat presentable too. 

Panties drawn to their initial position, even if they feel ruined and wet behind salvation, and dress smoothed nicely over your ass before he signs you to lift your head up. He guides you still, hand on your head, so you don't manage to land a hit at the cabinets over your head. 

For the first time in a while, you look at him again. He’s disheveled; red hair tousled and messy, lips burning a red as fiery as his eyes. There's a tiny remembrance of his quirk on the left side of his eyebrow. 

In an unfair and very beyond and out of character reaction for you, you reach to smooth it over with the tips of your fingers, pushing the red strands of hair away from the spot. He mumbles something that's beyond the realm of speech and you don't make an effort to understand as your hand slips to the side of his face, cupping his sharp jawline. 

You don't speak just yet, whether it's out of panic or because you're really not in a mental position to take in what just happened. Thus, you too, don't say a word when he brings both hands to your face. One to mimic your own hold, the other, to wipe some of the sticky residue of honey and some drool that has gathered in the corner of your lips. 

When your legs wobble on top of the heels that you just remembered you're wearing, the warmth of his hands on your face travels to your waist. It's only then that he talks. 

“Easy there, babe”

You let out a laugh “You did this to me, by the way”

“Well, I don't think I can hold myself when I'm around you. That's why I've been avoiding it.”

And that's exactly when it hits you. The party, Mina, every memoir of your past with him. You hate to be fucked silly to the point of no thought by him, never have an orgasm in his presence and then live in regret. You have to put an end to this. Mina was right. No one's gonna pick up your pieces ever again. 

You're looking dazzled, confused and out of your mind. The room starts to blur. 

You’re so out of words, it’s painful.

The tension hangs in the air as Kirishima grabs your hand, his grip firm but careful, and whispers hurriedly, “This way.” 

He leads you out of the kitchen, his eyes darting around the room like a predator looking for an escape route. You barely have time to register the shift in pace before he’s guiding you down the hall.

Your heart races—not just from the rush of adrenaline, but from the lingering haze of your interrupted moment. You’re still reeling from the intensity of it, your mind a chaotic blur of heat, panic, and something dangerously close to longing. Your hand, clasped inside his burns, like the very core of your being.

“Where are we going?” you hiss, glancing over your shoulder to make sure no one is following.

“Bathroom,” he mutters under his breath, his jaw tight. “We need a second of privacy”

Before you can protest, he’s already nudging open a door, ushering you inside with a quick glance down the hallway. The bathroom is as small and dimly lit as it was a while ago and the hum of the party muffles the moment the door clicks shut behind you.

The lock makes a noise of pure solace; Eijiro twists the key hurriedly but doesn’t pull it out of the lock. He opts to rush to you, even if you’re just a few literal feet away from him. 

Your poor heart is thudding. You’ve been cataclysmed with emotions of all kinds. The betrayal to your friends, to yourself even, the guilt of how a part of you feels joy, the panic of experiencing being found out. The embarrassment. Tears well in your eyes like silky beads. Head in your hands, you land on the semi wall of the bathtub and sit down. 

Eijiro follows, much dizzy and still high like you, and plops on the marble right next to you. 

He turns his head in your direction despite knowing full well you’re trying not to let the faucet in your eyes flood your face, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to stand there and watch you like this. He only does what he knows better. 

Huge arms are wrapped around you and he’s pulling you close. Part of you wants to beg him to let go, too afraid of what happens each time you’re in this position with him and your heartstrings are being pulled— despite your sniffles and in between your thoughts and your guilt you can’t find any strength to push him away.

You melt into his chest, the very second his palm presses your head against him. 

“Shhh” the redhead finally speaks “Sero’s going to forget this in seconds, even faster”

First and foremost and most foul of all, Eijiro thinks you’re only crying because you’ve been caught. That’s as much as you gather from his demeanor. 

“No, I-” Another wave of tears hits you before you get a chance to respond.

“Please tell me how can I help”

You loathe the fact that he sounds so willing. It’s the twist of the knife to your wound, why is he only willing when something’s in for…

“…you?”

Oh, oh no! You spoke that aloud. Cursing under your breath you decide you would rather swallow your tongue and die forever. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re still high, but had you realised sooner you wouldn’t have spoken this. It’s prone to cause turbulence.

“What? You really believe that?” 

There. There he is looking as confused as ever and he’s peeling you away from his chest just to lock eyes with you. 

“I just…” he pauses “I don’t know how to act, I’m sorry”

It’s… excruciating that he apologises over something he knows can’t be helped. Even when not intended to excuse him you just know he’s a person that reeks of insecurities, inner turmoil be damned and all, but so are you. Apologising for himself does absolutely nothing to you— he probably knows so as well.

But you breathe in his scent and his apology stops being one of manipulation. The man before you is nothing but himself. With roots such a deep shade of brown that just isn’t black, lashes that are full but not too long… he lacks in things that he’s so full of; Maybe if you had been more kind and understanding you and him would have worked. You wouldn’t have to cry in his arms after a catastrophic night. You wouldn’t get carried away by each other, rather, you’d get carried away together.

You don’t answer to him, but tears well in your eyes and they’re for him. So you cling onto his shirt and avert your eyes, not being able to bear another glance at him.

A few, new sobs in and he manhandles you onto him. You never protest —His lap is more comfortable than the marble, much warmer too. And you don’t need to be cool anymore.

“Baby” he whines and a hand is wrapped around your head, engulfing you in that huge bicep of his. His fingers linger on your face again but this time he holds you; one thumb brushes lightly against your wet cheek and the other wipes the teardrops that run down one of your eyes “Did I— Am I making you cry?”

You nod.

In response he kisses your forehead. A secret part of you wishes he’d never done that despite the fact that you find solace in the comfort.

“I’m sorry, I’ve made you cry a lot, haven’t I?”

You nod again.

This time he doesn’t continue on with words. He kisses your forehead again, then your wet cheeks, your nose, your eyes lids and your chin. You’re so lost in the moment, dizzy still. You lean into him, edging closer and closer to his face. Your body moves on its own against your better judgement.

“It’s not fair” you say as your lips hover right under his.

“I know”

Thus, this time, when you kiss, it’s not needy or desperate; it’s comforting. Your lips move in sync against each other and its numbing; his mouth feels just perfect against yours. He pecks your lower lip and you suck on his softly. 

Of course, you know that he knows. But neither of you pull away.

Kirishima's hands tremble slightly where they rest on your waist, like he's unsure if he should pull you closer or let you go before it’s too late. The way his lips move against yours—slow, deliberate, reverent—makes your stomach twist. This isn't rushed or reckless like before. It isn't an act of desperation or lust. It's something else. Something worse.

It’s a plea. A question. A confession.

And the moment you realize that, you break the kiss.

Your breath comes in shallow gasps as you stare at him, his forehead still resting against yours. His eyes—soft, carmine and burning all at once—search yours, waiting for an answer you don’t have.

His fingers flex against your hips, but he nods. “I know….” He pauses “I never got to tell you that I love you too”

Even if this confession is the end for him, he doesn’t let go. Neither do you.

You sit there, tangled together in the dim light of the bathroom, the party outside a distant echo compared to the roaring silence between you. His chest rises and falls beneath your hands, warm and steady, and for a fleeting second, you let yourself imagine a world where this could be simple. Where you could have him without all the chaos, the guilt, the inevitable heartbreak.

Αll you’ve ever wanted was for this to be your world.

“Then why do you punish me for it?”

Reality settles between you like an unspoken truth, thick and suffocating, making it hard to breathe, hard to think—hard to do anything but exist in this moment that shouldn’t have happened.

You’re nothing but truthful and honest. He’s punishing you because he loves you but you’re just no better —you’ve been doing nothing but the same.

Kirishima’s grip tightens just slightly, like he’s afraid that if he loosens it even a little, you’ll slip away completely. And maybe he’s right. Maybe you will. Maybe you don’t love him anymore and you have every right to. After everything he’s pulled, why on earth would you reciprocate his feelings?

Just take his heart and tip in two already. It’s either that or it’s just going to burst.

Your fingers twitch where they rest against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath them. It’s fast. Just as fast as yours.

You force yourself to pull back, just enough to see his face fully, to take in the way his brows pinch together in something like frustration. Or sadness. Or both.

You don’t trust yourself to speak. If you do, you’re not sure what will come out—anger, regret, longing. Maybe all three. Your words hurt more than a villain's attack.

But he speaks first.

“I don’t wanna let go,” he admits, voice low, barely above a whisper. “Not yet.”

The confession cracks something inside you.

You inhale sharply, closing your eyes for a moment before forcing yourself to move. You reach for his hands, prying them gently from your waist despite the way your entire body protests. He lets you, but his fingers linger, brushing against yours until you finally pull away completely.

The warmth of him is gone too soon, and you hate how cold you feel without it.

“Eijiro…” His name feels heavy on your tongue, like it’s not meant to be spoken in this way, not meant to carry this weight.

He shakes his head before you can say anything else. “I know” he repeats, but this time it sounds different. Defeated. And some stinky, dreadful part of you hates to see him this way.

You must be out of your head tonight—in a different dimension, this is another you from another reality. 

Kirishima is as surprised as you are, really. But your lips are on him when his eyes envisioned you leaving him cold, completely. 

After that, it’s clothes being thrown into bathroom tiles and the heavy sounds of kissing. It’s different from the one in the kitchen; there’s no fight for dominance, no physical rattling in battle. It’s just him and you, in the most uncomfortable spot in the world, naked, working together to walk on that tight rope that the love of you is.

This is the first time you’re making love. In sero’s bathroom. At Mina’s party. 

And you could die from how delicious it all feels.

It’s either that fact or something very guttural that’s gotten you feeling this way because the more Eijiro rams into you, the more you tighten around him.

Soft, gummy walls flutter around him, drenched in desire. It’s like you’re moulding the shape of him, every vein, every slope, every inch of him is moulded into you. And at the ache you whine your hips up and down, desperately, like you’re picking up where you left it off in the kitchen.

You’re finally aware that it’s summer again, when you realise your sweat is hot against your skin.

Kirishima holds you like he’s trying to convince himself that you’re real. That this is really happening. His hands wrap around you completely, like he’s got you in a headlock and you’re chest to chest.

You can feel his heartbeat once again, against the skin of your chest and it feels so animalistically intimate. Everything burns and you could just die. You could die like this, right here and right now!

The way your clit rubs on his navel eagerly, makes your whole body numb and in need of release. You set on screaming— his name becomes a mantra for every second passing.

Both of your hips work slow, in sync and he curses against the nape of your neck. You never make out what he says as you’re so drunk on him the second he starts placing open mouth kisses all over your neck.

You hiss in pleasure and your body jolts back—it causes Kirishima to twitch and tighten his grip around you, even now that your chest has departed from his. He looks at you like you’re a prey again; it’s one, two, three kisses on your neck before he travels lower, trapping the skin of your chest between his lips and teeth.

For better leverage, one of his hands grabs on your ass and guides you on your previously steady pace on him. You’re reduced to moaning, like a pornstar on set, when he hits it from this angle. His tip kisses the right spot inside you, repeatedly with an agonising pace and when you turn to look at him he’s kissing down your breast- right above your nipple.

The moment you lock eyes, he takes the hardened bud into his mouth and sucks. You can’t even rip your eyes away from him and oh my god you’ve never had your eyes open during sex like this. Not being able to shake the embarrassment of the action, you wrap your arms around his neck, his eyes still following your every movement, you plant a kiss to the top of his head.

The hand on your back turns as soft as good. And you hold, hold onto his neck like he’s any steady at all. Like the distance between you that closed the second you parted.

It’s all too much and not enough at all— his kisses on your neck and chest, the aching up and down and the sound of skin clapping. A coil forms at the lowest, deepest part of your stomach and you set on chasing it.

In a dazed state, you grab at Eijiro’s hair, right at the nape of his neck, just so he looks up at you and right when he does you kiss him, full force.

The movement makes both of you tilt to the back, but his dick slams inside you in such tremorous manner that you yelp into Eijiro’s mouth.

He moans too, feverishly, but moves his lips on yours. You dare to be the first to pull away, to lock his forehead with yours before you lean in for another kiss.

Again you depart with a smacking sound.

And then you kiss him again.

Through heavy breaths, you fail to acknowledge how long the two of you spend kissing like that, but your eyes wet again at the feeling of him.

He kisses your tears, like he’s trying to make them disappear, like if he presses his lips to your skin enough times, he can rewrite the stinging pain woven into this moment.

You feel him trembling beneath you, his hands gripping your hips like he’s trying to brand the feeling of you into his memory. And maybe he is. Maybe you are too.

Because no matter how much you try to pretend, no matter how much you tell yourself this is wrong, that this can’t be anything more than what it is—it doesn’t stop you from wanting it to be.

The tension in your stomach coils tighter, electric and overwhelming, your body moving on instinct, chasing the high you’ve been denied one too many times tonight. Every thrust, every kiss, every desperate gasp that falls from Kirishima’s lips sends you spiraling deeper into something neither of you can name.

You whisper his name, not as a warning or a plea, but as a confession to match his.

And he hears it.

Because his arms wrap around you tighter, because his forehead presses to yours like he’s holding onto you for dear life, because his breath hitches when he murmurs back, “I got you, baby.”

It’s too much.

It’s not enough.

“I love it when you cry for -huh- me” he says between jagged breaths, while he kisses the tears that are running down your cheeks— why is he getting unbelievably hard at them?

It feels like he’s kissing away every mess that you’ve both made, like he loves seeing you this broken for him and vulnerable.

Your body tenses, nails digging into his shoulders as you come undone around him, a shuddering, whimpering mess in his arms. And when he follows, burying himself deep inside you with a groan that sends shivers down your spine, you swear you feel something break.

Not your heart—not yet.

But something close.

You’re only ever aware of the digging of your nails on his soft skin, like you’re aiming to draw blood as that white hot pleasure bundles in you again.

It’s a few more thrusts too long when you come, a few more that are absolutely pushing it before Eijiro comes too. 

He comes inside you; hot, spurting cun paitining your insides and slipping down any gap that’s between him and you —impossible— and overflows with gravity, right onto his lap.

He twitches inside you. Once. Twice. 

Your breath is knocked out of you relentlessly as he fucks both of you through your orgasms, slowly.

You flutter around him, sore and even more right from the overstimulation. Eijiro plants a few more kisses to your numb jaw before he attacks both your lips with a smack. He hopes to soothe you, let you know that you can breathe now, that he can breathe, but instead you hyperventilate. His mouth has engulfed yours wholly.

You’re kissing like there’s no tomorrow, no next time and your hands run around each other’s body, roaming, grabbing, digging in skin until your skin is itchy and irritated. He bites your lower lip so hard that you think he’s trying to draw blood. And in response you try to part away from him. 

Your mouth is still linked to his teeth but when it slips away it remains that way, through a string of saliva— he falls apart on you shortly after, pulls you impossibly closer to him.

Eijiro’s breathing is heavy against your skin, warm and steady, grounding you in a way that feels more dangerous than comforting. His arms are still wrapped around you, holding you like he doesn’t want to let go, like maybe if he keeps you here long enough, the rest of the world won’t come crashing in.

Slowly, reality starts to settle around you like an unwelcome guest. The muffled bass from the party outside, the distant chatter, the fact that anyone could be looking for either of you right now—Mina, Sero, anyone.

You swallow hard and finally, finally, force yourself to pull back just enough to look at him.

His face is flushed, red eyes lidded, hair a mess from where your fingers had been tangled in it. He looks beautiful in a way that makes your stomach twist, makes your chest ache with something dangerously close to regret.

But when you move, he follows.

His hands slide down your waist, holding you like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers. Like he knows you will.

“Eiji” you murmur, voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes snap to yours, something raw and unreadable flickering in them. He knows what you’re about to say. 

“I wanna go home. I want you to come with me.”

“I know,” he says first, just like before. “Wanna hold you in my arms tonight”

But this time, it’s not enough.

Because knowing doesn’t make this any easier. It doesn’t change the fact that this—whatever this is—is bound to hurt you both in the end.

You take a shaky breath and move to get off his lap, but his grip tightens just slightly, like he’s debating stopping you.

Like he wants to.

“Don’t fucking lie to me” 

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he lets you go, lets you shift off of him even though it feels like something inside him is breaking as you do. And maybe something inside you is breaking too.

The silence is thick, suffocating, as you fix yourself—pulling your dress down your body, smoothing over the fabric even though it feels wrong now. You just want to be naked in his presence. 

Kirishima tucks himself back into his pants, runs a hand through his hair, but doesn’t stand up.

He watches you. Just watches.

You open your mouth, but no words come out. What could you even say? That this was a mistake? That it wasn’t? That it didn’t mean anything, or worse—that it did?

Kirishima exhales through his nose and rubs the back of his neck before finally speaking.

“I really want to. I don’t want to sleep alo— I wanna hold you.” His voice is rough, hoarse from all the things he isn’t saying. He’s chewing the words like anything could be taken wrongly “Say yes, just for tonight. Babe, you can hate me all you want tomorrow”

You nod, because that’s all you can do. You don’t want to hate him tomorrow.

“Kay then, imma drive, I think I’m good. You okay with that?”

You nod again.

Kirishima lingers for a second longer, like he’s waiting for you to take it back—to say you’ve changed your mind, that this is stupid, reckless, wrong. But you don’t.

When he finally moves, pushing himself up from the bathtub’s edge, you follow.

The party outside is still alive, voices rising and falling over the heavy bass of the music, laughter spilling through the cracks beneath the door. It feels too loud, too real compared to the quiet that had settled between you both.

Kirishima hesitates before unlocking the door, turning to look at you one last time, searching your face for something—permission, reassurance, maybe even regret. But whatever he finds, it’s enough. 

You just want to grope on him again, kiss him, squish his face with yours.

He opens the door, and the world comes rushing back in.

No one is standing outside waiting for you, no god of fury Mina, no traitorous Sero, no one watching with knowing eyes. But the paranoia still lingers in your chest, coiled tight as Kirishima takes your hand again, intertwining your fingers like it’s second nature.

When you step outside, the hot air hits you hard. You inhale deeply, trying to shake the tension that’s clinging to your skin.

Kirishima’s truck is parked a little way down the street, away from the cluster of other cars. His grip on your hand is steady as he walks you there, thumb rubbing small circles against your skin absentmindedly. It makes your chest tighten.

Once you’re at the passenger door, he lets go just long enough to open it for you, waiting until you climb inside before shutting it gently. You shoot him a glance that falls apart in seconds. You don’t need him to open the door for you, but the fact that he did because he wanted to.

Perhaps he cares for you as you care for him.

The driver’s seat creaks when he settles in, and for a second, neither of you speak. The air feels different now, heavy with something unspoken.

“You remember where my house is?” You ask, voice barely anything but a whisper.

“Yeah” Kirishima exhales slowly, his hands gripping the steering wheel like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. His jaw is tight, eyes fixed on the road ahead even though he hasn’t started driving yet.

You steal a glance at him, at the way his brows furrow just slightly, at the way his chest rises and falls in measured breaths. He’s thinking. Hard. And so are you.

The weight of what just happened—what’s still happening—sits between you like a living, breathing thing. It presses into your ribs, wraps around your throat, makes it impossible to speak.

But the silence that follows once again is unbearable.

So you say the only thing that comes to mind.

“Kiri.”

His grip on the wheel tightens for a second before he forces himself to relax. He finally turns his head, meeting your eyes with something unreadable. “Yeah?”

You don’t even know what you want to say. Do you ask him if this is a mistake? If it means anything? If it means too much?

Instead, all that comes -ever so raggedy- out is, “Drive.”

He nods once, turning the key in the ignition. The truck rumbles to life, headlights cutting through the darkness as he pulls onto the road.

Soon, the city stretches out before you, neon lights casting strange reflections on the windshield. The hum of the engine fills the space between you, but it doesn’t drown out the thoughts racing through your mind.

Minutes pass. Maybe hours. You’re not sure. Wasn’t your house a 20 minute drive from Sero’s?

You’re not sure, not quite sure until you arrive, when the lack of Eijiro’s hand on your thigh is unbearable.

The moment he locks his car, both of you move in a rush.

Practically running up the stairs to your apartment, tripping over each other in a frantic, heated blur. Lips, tongues, hands pulling, pressing, taking.

You barely make it to the shower before you’re both tangled up in each other again.

The second the door swings shut behind you, Kirishima’s hands are on you again—steady, grounding, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go.

Neither of you speak as you move toward the shower, exhaustion finally settling in now that the night is behind you. The rush, the panic, the guilt—it’s all faded into something quieter, something heavier. You barely fight for the space, stepping inside together like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

The hot water soothes your skin, washing away the remnants of the night, but not the tension clinging to your chest. Kirishima stands behind you, arms wrapped loosely around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder. His breathing is slow, deep, and for the first time in months, you feel yourself start to relax.

“You okay?” he murmurs, voice thick with exhaustion.

You nod, leaning back against him. “Yeah. Just a little sore”

“Mmm, I can fix that”

He presses a lazy kiss to your damp shoulder, his grip tightening just slightly before he exhales, long and heavy. Neither of you move to leave, letting the water rinse away the weight of everything; said and unsaid.

Fix what? The sound of your beating heart, or the ache in it for more of him? Both?

His hands wander, slow and deliberate, fingers tracing the curve of your waist before sliding lower, pressing warm and firm against your stomach. A quiet, needy sound escapes you when he reaches your thighs, his touch featherlight. His lips find your neck, dragging lazy, open-mouthed kisses across your skin, like he’s memorizing the taste of you, like he can’t get enough.

And then, just when your body melts completely into his, his fingers slip between your thighs.

The first touch is teasing, the softest graze of his fingertips against your clit and folds, but it sends a shiver straight down your spine and your lower stomach. You gasp, your head tilting back against his shoulder as he circles, presses, works you open with patience, practiced ease.

“Want your pussy on my mouth, right now”

The moan that spills from your lips in response is inevitable, breathy and wanting, and Eijiro smiles against your skin, his voice a quiet rumble against your ear before he presses another kiss to the spot that's closer to your lips.

He shifts you just so he can kneel before you and place a kiss to your aching clit. Your breath hitches as his fingers trace up the plush skin of your leg, slowly, just barely grazing where you need him most.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan against you. He retaliates by pressing his tongue to your aching heat, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips.

“Eijiro—” His name slips from your lips in a breathless plea, but he only responds by dragging his tongue up again, his fingers sinking into your skin like he wants to claw your skin off. You hiss at the pain, but get high of the roughness of it.

One of his hands slides higher, palm pressing hard against your stomach before trailing lower again. He curls his tongue against you, circling it on your clit. He absolutely looks and sounds as if he’s devouring you. And you just can’t get enough.

Then, when he has you completely pressed against the wall, his fingers join the torturous rhythm of his mouth, slipping between your folds, teasing, pressing, pushing until your head falls back. Guttural noises swallowed between your thighs, his breath hot and ragged against your skin as he enters you with two fingers.

Dazed by how good it feels, you stop caring about the temperature of the water anymore, you buck your hips against his mouth. Chasing a release.

His licks get sloppy, his rhythm too and he opens his eyes to look at you. 

“Want you to come on my fucking tongue” he says between smacking sounds, like he’s drunk on you. 

He sucks your clit, licking at it again as he twists his fingers inside you. Your legs start shaking like earlier, but you don’t get embarrassed about it this time. Eijiro, as if he doesn’t want you to pressure yourself even a bit, shrugs his shoulder on your leg, signing at you to hook it over his shoulder. You do it, wordlessly.

This new angle has him feral on you. He nibbles and licks, either with the flat of his tongue or with the tip of it. 

You’re lost in the sensation, every nerve alight. You can feel the rawness in the way he moves, while he’s completely focused on you, as if the world has disappeared and it’s only the two of you left.

You jerk under his ministrations; it’s a warning. A telltale sign that you’re going to come soon.

And when you finally do—when your body tenses, then shudders with release—he doesn’t stop. He rides it out, dragging every last wave of pleasure from you until you’re left breathless, completely at his mercy.

Only then does he pull away, his lips slick, his eyes dark with something unreadable as he looks up at you. For a moment, neither of you speaks—just a silent understanding that passes through the air.

By the time you dry off and slip into bed, the exhaustion is impossible to ignore and he hasn’t fixed any soreness, if anything he’s made it worse, but you don’t dare to point it out to him. He plops onto your bed and pulls you close without hesitation, tucking you against his chest like it’s instinct, like it’s where you’ve always belonged. You coo into the touch, set on using the air conditioner for tonight, just so you can let him warm you up.

You kiss the middle of his chest, and he almost flinches at how soft the action is.

Eijiro’s fingers trace slow, absentminded patterns on your back, the warmth of his body lulling you into something dangerously soft, dangerously safe. You’re not sure you’re ever going to fall asleep without being in his arms ever again, but your kisses on his chest, his collarbones and neck, don't stop.

“You’re not leaving, right?” you murmur, barely awake by now. Desperate for anything that’ll let you be at ease to fall asleep.

His arms tighten around you. “Not tonight.” He says and he kisses the top of your head.

It’s the last thing you hear—or feel, before sleep pulls you under, his steady heartbeat the only thing keeping the rest of the world where he’s in, at bay. Just for tonight.

You’ll deal with Mina and Heartbreak Co. Tomorrow.

_______

When the morning comes you realise, you want to be domestic. Casual. Just like this.  

When you wake up curled under his enormous bicep, long red hair sprawled messily all over his chest, mingling with yours, with you, there's a false notion as to why he's here still. Though you can't dive into it right now, with your eyes begging you to shut them close again and the bigger part of your brain begging you to fall back asleep. But you can't..

That itchy corner in the back of your mind won't let you.

Because Eijiro is here. Holly fucking hell, Eijiro is sleeping right under you.

You've never seen him asleep -the time you slept on each other for a good 30 minutes doesn't really count- and you're itching to lay your eyes on him. To steal a glance, to imprint the image in your brain. To create a memory because you're not so sure youre gonna see him again after this, utterly convinced last night was a petty fuck to the result of being high and drunk at Mina's party. 

Then again that's Kirishima for you. 

But, despite the fact that you feel angst in your soul, looking at the way the sun reflects on his skin makes you think that anything he did last night is just so sweet of him. To give you a dose of something so addicting, just when you were getting over him. something to grab onto so you dont forget him, so you remember him. 

You're not sure you've slept this well in ages. You already know you'll spend endless sleepless nights staring at your ceiling wishing you could rest like this again, or maybe wishing you hadn't slept at all, so you could savor every single second with him.

You’re gonna miss this moment terribly and you know it. But then again, you'll miss something that doesn't exist. You crave days like this, their non-existence. It's what makes them more desirable. you want what you cant have and it's killing you. 

Your throbbing head and the heavy blanket that sleep is, condemn you unconscious again, the second you feel warm and safe once more. A heaving chest that won't stop hurting is nothing compared to how tiring the previous night has been—it's nothing before the continuation of that dream that you were watching. In desperation to continue it, you melt in the only embrace that makes you ignore the sunlight so you can fall asleep again. 

When Kirishima opens his eyes it's like reality comes crashing in. He pays little attention to you, such as to lift you off of him and stand on his butt, in search of his phone, nervously and just so keen on not waking you up still. 

‘Good morning’ you utter, so lightly that you're not really sure he can hear it, he's not sure you understand what you're uttering either. 

‘Good morning babe’ he smiles, lightly. 

There's a kiss planted at the top of your head and had you been awake you'd either coo at its healing properties or chew him out. Both of these outcomes are too scary for him though, but perhaps, one is more slightly manageable than the other. 

A quick ramming of your fridge for anything edible follows; He’s rushing to the kitchen after he kisses you, the rustling sounds dragging you from the edge of sleep. You groan softly, stretching beneath the warm sheets, but you don’t open your eyes. Not yet. You want to savor this—just a few more seconds of pretending. Pretending that this is normal, that this is real. That mornings like this aren’t borrowed time.

Kirishima hums under his breath as he moves around your kitchen, the sound of cabinets opening and closing filling the quiet space. You should probably get up, but instead, you burrow deeper into your pillow, inhaling the faint scent of him still lingering on your sheets.

Maybe you’ll just never wash them again, right? So they’ll smell like him forever…

You don't know how long you lay there, stuck in that limbo between wanting to hold onto this moment forever and knowing you can't. Eventually, though, curiosity wins. You shuffle out of bed, padding barefoot toward the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

He's standing by the counter, shirtless, hair messy, flipping through his phone with a piece of toast hanging from his mouth. The sight of him in your home, in your space, like this, makes your stomach twist. Because this… this is just what you want.

Domestic. Casual. Just. Like. This. 

He glances up when he hears you, grinning around the toast. “Mornin’ again, babe.”

You roll your eyes, ignoring the way your chest tightens at the nickname. “You found food?”

Kirishima shrugs, handing you the second piece of toast from his plate. “You don’t have much, but I made do.”

You take it wordlessly, biting into it as you lean against the counter next to him. Like he counts your bites for his own personal enjoyment, when you swallow your last bite, he’s suddenly leaning into you. Perhaps, for a kiss, if you would have it.

His movements are slow, deliberate—like he’s testing the waters, waiting to see if you’ll pull away. His eyes flicker to yours, searching, but you don’t move. You don’t stop him. You don’t stop him when he traps your chin between his fingers.

Instead, you hold your breath as he leans in, the warmth of him so close, the scent of soap and something uniquely him filling the space between you.

It’s not hurried or desperate, not like last night. This isn’t a kiss born from impulse or alcohol or the reckless heat of a party. This is something softer, something that lingers. Like those ones in Sero’s bathroom.

His lips brush against yours, featherlight, hesitant—giving you the chance to change your mind. But you don’t. You tilt your chin up, closing the distance, and the second your lips fully meet his, something inside you melts.

Kirishima exhales against your mouth, a sound almost like relief, like he’d been hoping for this, waiting for this. His fingers brush against your hip, not holding, just resting there, as if grounding himself in the moment.

The kiss is slow, unhurried, like he wants to savor every second. You let yourself do the same.

When you finally pull back, he’s still close enough that his breath ghosts over your lips. His eyes flicker open, warm, red as rubies and full of something you can’t quite detect.

You swallow. “What was that for?”

Kirishima grins, small and easy, like this is the most natural thing in the world. “Felt like the right thing to do babee.”

And when he leans in again, you don’t stop him.

“Don't call me that”

When he cocks his head to the side to look at you and he looks so cute at that, like a puppy, confused and with glimmering eyes, that’s when he laughs too, perfectly and and oh—you hate him by the way.

“Kay then” he kisses you and takes another bite of his toast before he chews his nexts words out “check your phone, Mina has been calling you non stop”

You groan, dropping your head against his chest for just a second before sighing and peeling yourself away. His warmth lingers, but the real world is creeping back in, persistent and unwelcome.

Your phone is face down on the counter, screen lighting up with yet another call from Mina. Just in time. You hesitate, glancing at Kirishima, who watches you with a strangely adorning expression, leaning against the counter like he has all the time in the world.

“You gonna answer?” he teases, nudging your hip with his, almost mocking the way Mina hip bumped him away from you last night.

Secretly, he wishes you don’t pick up. Just let him have a moment of comfortable silence with you.

You sigh dramatically, pouting, your shoulders almost drawn to your ankles, looking like a wet cat, before swiping to accept the call. “Mina, before you start yelling—”

‘Put her on speaker’ he mouths, but you ignore him.

“Oh, hell no!” Mina’s voice nearly bursts through the speaker, loud and full of chaotic energy. “Don’t you dare act like I wasn’t gonna start yelling! Where the hell are you? You left!—no text, no nothing! And guess who else was missing? Kirishima! Sero said he saw you and I didn't believe him and oh my gooood, girl, no!”

Kirishima snorts, completely unbothered. He steals the toast from your hand and takes a bite, cheeky as ever. You shoot him a glare, but he just grins and mouths busted over and over again.

“Relax, Mina,” you sigh. “I’m fine. I’m home. I just woke up.”

“Oh, I know you’re fine.” She gasps dramatically. “Wait, are you with him right now?”

You pause for half a second too long.

“You totally are!” Mina shrieks, and you have to hold the phone away from your ear. Kirishima just laughs, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. He towers beside you, tilting his head toward the phone. “Morning, Mina.” His voice is all lazy amusement, like he’s enjoying this way too much. Like he won.

“Oh, hell no, don’t ‘morning, Mina’ me! What the hell happened? Wait, don’t answer that—I don’t wanna know. Or maybe I do? Ugh! I’m having an existential crisis about your love life, what is this?”

You groan, covering your face with your hand. “Mina, I swear, it’s not a big deal—”

Mina’s voice explodes through the speaker, sharp and furious. “Are you kidding me right now?!  I was worried! What was I supposed to think when you just vanished with him?! I’ve been losing my damn mind trying to figure out if you were dead in a ditch somewhere?!”

Kirishima snickers, leaning in slightly.

“Ughhhhhh, I’ll see you later, Mina, Byeeeeee” you say quickly before hanging up, not giving her a chance to interrogate you further.

The moment you set your phone down, Kirishima is already grinning at you. “Busted,” he repeats playfully.

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms and pout. “I hate you.”

~All rights reserved: @/strawberry-nugget, 2025. Please do not copy, over write or steal my work.

Likes, reblogs and comments are all appreciated equally

[ysaefinn]

I saw your post about mean mommy sugu and I loved it so much!! You are literally one of my favorite writers and make me feel less weird about the stuff I like since i know its more niche (mommy sugu!!)

I wanted to ask how he would react with a darling who has a deadline and refuses to go to bed even though he's asking nicely. I know you said he only gets mean when you purposefully hurt yourself so would putting off your sleep so adamantly warrent mean mommy?!

He's all like "my little darling I told you it's time for bed we need to brush your teeth" and you're just like "No! Leave me alone i told you I have to get this done tonight"

Again I love your work!! Can I be 🦖 anon? 🫶🫶

OMG ANON HELLO HAIII!!!!! Im sooooo you found me YOU SHOULDN'T BE ASHAMED OF WHAT YOU'RE INTO!!!!! Not to sound self-centered but I think everyone should love and embrace him, if you haven't accepted him as your husband by now you're just in denial /j

AND OF YOUR FAVORITE WRITERS??? IM ABOUT TO EXPLODE LIKE?????? STOP IT RN ANON I LOVE U I LOVE U SO SO SO MUCH YOU HAVE NO IDEA TYSM FOR BEING HERE YOU ARE RIGHT WHERE YOU SHOULD BE 😭

Now...mommy sugu and overworked stubborn reader, i don't think he would be AS mean as he was on that post bcuz he understands!!! And he's so proud of you for all the work you're putting into succeeding, he really really only what's best for you, but when things get out of control is when he starts to pester you more.

It starts with gentle little reminds to "please come to bed, I can't sleep without my baby" Then he gets a little more stern each time you duck to avoid being scooped up, he realy does want to give you your space but eventually he snaps TOT he's already crashing out bcuz this is a burden he can't carry for you, and you're just making it worse by not listening. So one night when you're getting ready to take put ur notes he just grabs your books, puts them on top of the fridge, scoops you up into his arms and takes you to bed 😭😭 ANON HE WILL GET HIS WAY YOU ARE NOT WINNING!!!!!! suguru completely leaving you alone at times like these isn't ever going to happen, hus hands literally itch to hold you and touch you and cradle you to sleep, and mind you he's STILL being nice!! Still being gentle all smiles and coos petting your head and cooing that he understands but you still need to look after yourself!!!

Anon,,,, the switch up, the SWITCH UP WHEN HE CATCHES YOU TRYING TO SNEAK AWAY FROM HIM god that's when he gets mean. A cold menacing narrow-eyed death stare radiating PURE RAW UNFILTERED DISAPPOINTMENT he is not happy and you can't handle it no matter how tough you think you are </////3 he's towering over you and with his voice devoid of the usual warmth and softness asks "what do you think you're doing?" "Didn't i tell you that it was time for a break?" " Are you purposefully trying to hurt yourself?" "You said you'd be good" "do you realize how much it hurts me to see you like this?" HE DOESN'T EVEN MEAN TO SCARE YOU OR ANYTHING he is just being honest when you're clearly tired and it pains him to see you like this he wants to lock you up in a padded room. He does eventually realize that he shook you up with the way he confronted you and ends up apologizing and promising to be gentler next time, but you'll have to learn to listen to him too, keep him happy by keeping yourself safe and he won't have to be mean to you!!!!

AND ANON OFC!!!! 🦖emoji is all yours WELCOME ABOARD!!!!!

[hvaneyflowers]

Christmas Vacation! *********************

Pierre Gasly x femreader!

You and Pierre go on your first Christmas vacation together, but unexpectedly, you lose Pierre in the city.

yourusername

liked by pierregasly, f1wags, charles_leclerc, and 30.000 more.

tagged: pierregasly

yourusername: London at Christmas is just magical!

view all 100 comments.

username1: favorite couple in my favorite city!

username5: you look so cute together! please, never break up!

username3: would you take Pierre to your hometown?

username12: SO CUTE!!!!

username9: I need a photo of Pierre and y/n at Buckingham Palace ASAP!

username4: I swear, you're the cutest couple in the whole world!

username6: YES!! MY PARENTS!!!

pierregasly: love you!❤️

yourusername: love you, too! ❤️

username90: Power couple!

username7: best couple!

username8: love you!!!

username29: beautiful as always!

liked by pierregasly

pierregasly

liked by lewishamilton, charles_leclerc, and 500.000 more.

tagged: yourusername

pierregasly: Have you seen this woman? She's short and has brown long hair. Also, she responds to the name y/n, and she can be a little angry. I lost her at the city's market... but I found this cool friend!😎

view all 400 comments.

username1: Not Pierre posting on Instagram but answering y/n's texts!

username8: he's a dead man.

username2: Not Pierre taking a photo with Lewi's wax figure and y/n freaking out 'cause she can't find him😂

username4: that's why they're the best couple!

lewishamilton: not tag?

lewishamilton: 🧍‍♂️

username3: LEWIS COMMENTING!!

username5: yep, Pierre's dead. Lewis and y/n will kill him.

username10: 'not tag?' - lewis hamilton.

username71: Pierre committed a crime. He must pay for it.

yourusername: PIERRE GASLY!!! I WILL KILL YOU!!!

username8: what have I said? He's dead. username6: 100% confirm. username34: Pierre, run! pierregasly: 🙀🏃

liked by yourusername

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

"PIERRE GASLY, I WILL KILL YOU!" you screamed while opening the door of your hotel room.

You were angry at Pierre and Lord, he will be dead. You both were shopping at the city's market when you got distracted for only one second, and Pierre disappeared. You searched and searched for almost two hours, but you didn't find him. You also sent him texts and called him many times but without a response. You were so pissed off. This is beyond a joke! You were desperately looking for him, and he was in the wax museum taking photos with Lewis! You'll kill him without a doubt.

"Honey... how are you?" he asked with a nervous smile.

"I hate you!" you told him, falling on the bed.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't want this to happen, but while you were distracted by that salesman, I got distracted too by a baby goat," he explained, sitting by your side.

"A goat?" you asked him.

"Yes. It was the cutest goat I've ever seen. Look, I took a photo," he said happily while showing you the photo.

"I can't believe it. I freaked out because you got distracted by a goat?" you said in disbelief.

"It was a cute goat!" he tried to defend himself.

"Alright. It was a cute goat," you rolled your eyes. "But, why didn't you answer my texts and calls? Do you have any idea of how worried I was? I almost have a heart attack!"

He gave you a little smile and hugged you. You relaxed in his arms and started exhaling his smell. Thank God for putting him in your way. You loved him more than anything in the world.

"I'm so sorry, mon amour, but my cell phone died after my photos in the wax museum. I know I should've called or texted you, but I was so happy to see everything that I completely forgot about you. I'm so sorry, it won't happen again. It's a promise." he kissed your forehead.

"I forget you, baby. I love you, too. I was so scared to lose you." you said rubbing your nose against his cheek.

"Let me make up to you. We'll have fun tonight," he gave you one of his smiles that tells you you won't sleep.

"Merry Christmas, lover of goats!" you laughed while pulling him near your body.

"Merry Christmas, my future killer." he kissed you.

[constantcrying]

Anger is a secondary emotion.

m!yandere x gn!reader

TW: obsession, some violence

This'll be my first post! If you have any feedback, I hope you'll share it.

He's trying. Honestly he is. He's putting in the work, biting his tongue and keeping his fists clenched. He'll never pick another jealous fight or cause a scene for the rest of your lives. He'll stop taking souvenirs from your home after every visit. Maybe he'll even go to therapy and unpick the fucked up weave of his childhood to find the origin of his every maladaption. Who knows, he might come out of this rough patch a better human being.

Promises between the two of you are worth something. You always say what you mean, do what you say. That consistency is another thing he loves about you, another one of the countless reasons he couldn't bear to lose you. It was why the look on your face that day had terrified him, as you confessed you were sick of his shit and struggling to be his friend—you meant it when you said you would go no-contact because he was obsessive.

It was bad enough being relegated to a mere friend after two years of adoring you. What was he supposed to do if you left him altogether? As much as he hated sharing your time and attention with the rest of the world, he couldn't bear to lose his humble slice of it. Before he met you, he hadn't cared so deeply about anything or anyone. He hadn't known what to do when he fell for you, except sink his teeth in and never let go.

Just the thought of life without you made him so sick, he fell to his knees on the spot. He fought his shaky voice and managed to utter an apology, begging for a chance to correct himself.

He isn't good with humility or patience or prostration. But he is honest. He does love you. He'll do anything for you, even act right.

You knew him well enough to believe his words. You also (rightly) pitied him. In the end you agreed that if he cleaned up his act, you wouldn't cut him off.

For now, he's on probation, seeing you once every eight days or so. He's not strong enough to go longer than that without being near you. In between those pressure control days, he journals, meditates, and reads self-help books. He'll even exercise more than he ever did before, because studies claim that it helps with emotional regulation. He thinks it's all stupid. He hopes it works and you think better of him. He continues this way for months.

The result? He isn't biting off your male friends' heads anymore. He isn't trying to monopolize your time. He doesn't obsessively check your location and text you like crazy. A touchy friend says hi to you at a cafe, and he doesn't get angry at them for interrupting and hugging you, he just says hi back. It's actually pleasant to hang out together in public again. For you, it's like the friend you made so long ago has actually come back. You don't ever say it, but he thinks you might believe he's actually over you.

He forgives you for that, and for the threat of leaving. He knows your peace is important to you, so you just said what you thought was best. And him...he'll stop with the outbursts, bury all of the feelings he's wrestling with. See? He changes for you. How many of your ex friends and lovers can say the same?

But there's nothing you can do about your missing possessions ex post facto. He still struggles, like anyone with bad habits. There's always an urge to come closer to you, to cradle you to his chest, to kiss you stupid. Just...let him keep the chapstick and the t-shirts, at least. He can tide himself over with the lingering scent of your favorite products.

And, of course, the anger remains simmering under his skin. It comes in waves, he notices, after every doubt and concern. Your casual smile at another person, for a split second, makes his gut churn before the heat of rage washes over him. After he sends a text you don't respond to, his heart sinks, and then it catches fire. He's always scared first. Maybe the journaling isn't so stupid if it can show him these patterns.

The problem is, he can't kill the source of his fear unless he can have you all to himself. That's not happening anytime soon.

So he's still struggling his way through your time together. You hang out like normal people, having dinner at a new restaurant before strolling down the street on a cool summer evening. Almost no one is outside, creating the sense that you two exist in your own little pocket dimension. You decide to go down a little alleyway, a shortcut that never presents any problems.

Somehow, a throw-away comment of his makes you laugh, and he wants to take the sound and inject it into his veins. The glory of your approval is bittersweet. He dreads the way this night will end: with you going to your place instead of coming home with him. It is all he can do, not to break the unspoken barrier between you. He wants to be optimistic. He wants to say that it's enough if you're happy, beside him right now.

As if you couldn't be happy elsewhere. As if he could be.

He can't handle thinking this way anymore, so he looks away. Just for a moment. Just to take some breaths and be something close to functional.

That's his big mistake.

The second you cry out, he turns back. You've been knocked to the ground by some staggering man, who trips over your leg and lands against a trash can. He must have come from the bar down the road because he reeks of bottom-shelf liquor.

"Son of a bitch!" The man growls. "Watch it! Watch where you're fucking going! You think you own the fucking street?"

"Fuck you!" You respond, trying to push yourself up off the ground. You hiss and stop, bringing your hand up to see that the palm is a scraped mess.

The drunk man mumbles some more curses at you and, in a fit of dionysian inspiration, kicks you.

It's not a hard blow. He's hammered, and totally out of shape besides. And maybe he never meant to hurt you at all—maybe he's just being childish and weird, his inhibitions drowned by a night of heavy drinking.

It doesn't matter to your friend.

His body has moved, he realizes, as he stares down at a pulpy mess. It used to be a face. His knuckles are raw, split from overuse. It feels like nothing at all. You're hurt, though, and the perpetrator is still breathing, so he needs to do something about that.

Without a hand gripping his collar, the drunk man splatters on the ground. He doesn't have the wherewithal to protect himself from further attacks, so with no resistance, your friend can just swing his foot into a perfectly vulnerable stomach. He does. He does it again. And again. And in the middle of this, even in his high-running emotions, he finds a sense of clarity that he's rarely afforded. Finally, someone pays the price for touching you. What a relief it is to have something nice and solid absorbing all the rage that he's always stuffing down.

You have apparently been calling his name nonstop. He only notices now as he's being yanked back by the arm. Like a spell is wearing off, he hears your voice. You sound far away, at first, the way you do in dreams. As he becomes aware of his pounding heart and aching knuckles, your muffled voice becomes clear.

"What the hell are you doing? Stop! You'll kill him!"

He's obedient, if you recall, so he stops. He turns to you, panting and shaking out his hand. Strangely, you flinch and back up. Your eyes are wide, your mouth pressed shut.

You've...never looked at him that way. He's irritated and embarrassed you, but nothing he's done has ever scared you.

He should worry about this, but he can't help smiling. You're so cute when you're frightened. You belong in his arms, where he can keep you safe.

He pulls you into him and squeezes you tight. As much as you do tremble, there's not an ounce of resistance from you as he does this. You are having the same epiphany is him right now—that he would never hurt you, that anyone who did would pay sevenfold.

But while he is imagining himself as your knight, you're thinking of all the strangers and friends who may be unkind, however briefly, to you. You're thinking of how sharp this man's memory is and how casually you complained about exes or classmates or coworkers when you thought everything was okay.

"It's okay. You're safe," he whispers into your hair, relishing the close contact.

He's going to stay good for you. It'll be easy now, knowing where to put all the excess energy.

[m-eowdy]

I already posted this Dead Boy Detectives fic over on AO3, but since it's so short I figured I'd post it here as well (only I kept forgetting lol).

Thank you, but please don’t ever do that again (614 words) Edwin thanks Crystal for trying to get him out of Hell.

It’s a grey March morning, about two weeks after they bid Port Townsend goodbye. Rain is ticking against the window, as a quiet lull hangs over the office. Charles is out running an errand, and it’s just Crystal and Edwin doing their own things. It’s quiet, with only the sound of Edwin rearranging papers in a file, and Crystal's soft mindless humming as she lounges on the sofa, reading something on her phone. At some point Edwin stops his organising as if deciding something.

“Hey, Crystal, can we talk?”

“Yeah sure, what’s up?” She puts away her phone and tucks up her legs to make space for him on the sofa.

He sits down, looking straight ahead, as is easiest for him to do during personal conversations.

“Listen, I… I’ve been trying to talk more about my…” Edwin’s face contorts. “feelings.” He sighs. “And, well, since what happened with Niko, I’ve realised that it could always be too late. And…” he trails off. 

Crystal nods in understanding, a small empathetic smile on her face.

He turns to her. “I haven’t properly thanked you. For trying to go to Hell for me.”

“Oh, you know, it’s whatever.” Crystal tries to wave away.

“No, no, it’s not ‘whatever’. You sought out your abusive Demon ex, he could have really hurt you! And he did hurt you, and Jenny. I know you ended up having everything under control, but that was really dangerous, Crystal.”

She shrugged, but he could see it was because she didn’t know how to reply, and not because it had been easy.

“You tried to go to Hell for me, even though you knew it would kill you. I know Charles made sure you knew that. But you still tried.”

She nodded. “Of course I tried, are you kidding me?”

“I am very lucky to have friends who are willing to sacrifice themselves. For me.” He looks up at her, eyes shiny. “Thank you.”

Crystal reaches over her hand and he accepts, holding it.

“You’re welcome.” she whispers.

“But you cannot do anything like that again.” His voice turned serious, stern. He tightens his grip on her hand “Please promise me you'll never try to go to Hell for me again.”

Crystal's eyes narrow. “Are you stupid? Do you think I'd be able to live with myself knowing you're being tortured in Hell? You must think of me or yourself very low.”

“If I'm back in Hell, and I have to worry about you getting trapped down there… You'd just be helping the demons torture me!” he fires back.

“Well, I can't do nothing,” Crystal huffs.

Edwin gives her a sideway nod in understanding and ponders it over.

“Edwin, you’re one of my best friends. You’re one of few people who actually care about me. And I care about you. Just talking about it now, thinking about you… There… I'm seriously nauseous.” She puts her hand on her stomach.

Edwin gives a wry laugh. “Well, that's a sentiment we share.” A beat. He purses his lips slightly. “What if I give you a list of things you can do to get me out of Hell before you actually attempt to get me yourself?”

Crystal smiles and points at his chest in agreement. “Look, now you've got yourself a deal.” Her left hand lets go of Edwin's, and she puts out her right hand to shake on it. He accepts, but lingers afterwards.

“Say it.” He looks her in the eyes and shifts on the couch. “Promise me.” It’s almost pleading.

She squeezes his hand firmly. “I promise that I will do your list first, before personally going there myself.” 

“Thank you.” he whispers.

[moraesong]

come and put that on my soul

park jisung x female reader | genre: fluff, light angst | word count: 452 words

every sunset, you'd go out to the sea to meet your merboy. merman? you're not really sure. 

every time you met him, you felt like it took you closer to the divine. he was the most beautiful person (unperson?) you'd ever met. and he was shy, too. he never came too far above the surface of the water, keeping his arms crossed in front of his chest, carefully, if he did. sometimes you'd reach out to ruffle his pretty black hair, and he'd look up at you with surprise in his wide eyes before shaking his head, little water droplets returning back to the sea. 

or, you'd boop his nose, making him blush. the two of you were just nineteen and at the sunrise of your lives. 

your merboy didn't really speak. you thought he couldn't and you were okay with that, his presence being enough for you. but one day you came to the shore and he greeted you, voice just as pretty as he was. he told you his name that day too. jisung. 

from that day on, the two of you talked plenty. he'd been hesitant but he trusted you, all-too-human you, and you felt honored. 

summer can't be forever. but he was your forever summer, and you promised that no matter what, you'd remember him for the rest of your life, that merboy you fell in love with when you were nineteen. 

you don't worry about anything because the time you shared will always be enough. the magic he gave you, the magic you two lived in together. 

on your last day together, jisung brings you a collection of the prettiest seashells he could find. he made a bracelet for you too, and you hold your hand out for him as he delicately fastens it around your wrist. 

you swear to him that you'll come back to see him next summer. jisung tells you it's no rush. he says he'll always wait for you, always think about you. you were the first he ever loved, after all.

you can tell he's trying to be strong, but there are tears in his ocean eyes. you reach out to wipe his eyes dry, making sure that if you have to leave him, you'll leave him with his eyes bright under the sunlight, just the way they were the day you first met him. 

when you look back at him one last time as you're leaving the beach, you see that he's giving you a hand heart. you were the one who taught him that. 

blinking back your own tears, you return the heart to him. yeah, it's going to be all right. you know you'll see him again next golden summer. 

Notes: For whatever reason, I was really inspired this morning, and I started imagining how beautiful it would be to interact with a young merman Jisung. The parts before the "Keep reading" cut are where this story originated from in my mind—those beautiful moments. I did tear up a bit while thinking about this, and near the end of my writing. Since I was feeling unusually inspired, I decided to indulge that, and this is what I ended up writing. I feel that it's important for me to be able to produce things without too much deliberation, so I'm posting this little piece with minimal editing, and I intentionally kept it short and not too elaborate. I will consider adding at least one more part to this story, but nothing has been decided yet. Also because this is a short piece, unlike my previous one, I've tried out a different, more minimalistic formatting. Lastly, because I believe in the importance of giving credit as much as possible, I want to note that this story was somewhat inspired and influenced by this one. That's all for now. Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!

Credits

Dividers: by enchanthings

Title from this song

—come and put that on my soul, fanfiction written by moraesong on tumblr, posted 2025

[mewnewew]

Sir Crocodile x Reader

Guess who deleted another one of their posts. Again. On another note, a few more edits and then I'll send out the sequel to the Boxer! Stay tuned!

It was early on in their relationship. He'd gone to clear up some pirates coming to Alabasta, doing his job as "hero". Routine work, not a hard job at all. The country was a sand based country anyway, and with him having a sand based power, what did you expect?

However, just before he walked out the door, she grabbed his hook. He'd noticed that, by the way. She was never afraid of the hook. She'd seen what it could do very well, oh yes. But never, ever shied or moved away from it. She had grabbed his hook and looked up at him, stars in her eyes.

"Promise you'll come back to me?"

Now, Crocodile had married her for the sake of appearances, really. She was not drop dead pretty nor the most financially smart person. In fact she was quite plain. He'd married her cause she was from a noble family who didn't have any major issues in their closet. Neither a very fixed relationship with the Marines.

Sure he'd bring her to parties and sleep in the same bed as her, but he didn't spend a lot of time with her. He'd see her sometimes during breakfast and give enough money for her to outright buy 3 decently sized shops. Yet she was sweet with him. And not ditzy kind of sweet, but genuinely sweet. She'd crack jokes to try to get him to laugh or even make a reaction. She'd tell him about her day and try to pry into what his day was as well. All with a smile on those lips.

So to answer her question, the only thing he did was exhale, pat her head and move on.

She kept doing that whenever she knew he was heading out to fight pirates. And he'd give her the same reaction every time.

To be honest, their relationship was essentially a business contract. She seemed to understand that in the first couple of weeks, and this suited Crocodile just fine. He didn't want a simpering wife who'd be too clingy or too loud.....pathetic.

One night though, things changed. Two bottle of vodka changed all that. Made him start to stay around, start to slowly lean into her, listening to what she wanted to say, to her jokes, to her chatter.

He had come back late after a hard night at the office. He hung up his coat, whisking it off his person with his sand, already thinking of the next day's job and suddenly felt a small object collide with his legs. A small, giggling, and very drunk object.

"Hehehe~...." chuckled the object.

He looked down and saw his wife, who was drunk, and clutched a bottle in her hand, grinning like a lunatic up at him. Her face was slightly red and her eyes glazed over. He hooked the back of her shirt which seemed oversized on her (was that...his?) And lifted her up to his eye level. She giggled and clutched the bottle to her chest with both hands now.

"You're back!" She cheered.

He raided an eyebrow.

"You're drunk." He stated.

"I got boooored!" She whined letting one hand go forwards and trying to grab at his face. He shifted her slightly backwards and frowned at her.

"So you got drunk? How does that make sense?"

"I didn't have anything to do! You weren't there, and I wanted to wait for you" she slurred, now in a whiny tone.

He sighed, moving towards the kitchen.

"How many bottles did you have?"

"Uh.....two?"

"Two? You got bored enough to drink two whole bottles of..." He leaned forwards reading the label.

"....Vodka." She burped, causing him to twist his face in disgust and hold her away from him again.

He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, and started going towards the kitchen.

"We need to get some water into you"

20 minutes and some negotiations about drinking the water later, she was sitting quiet on the bedside. He continued to get ready for bed, not paying her any mind. Honestly he was happy this was over and wouldn't be much of a problem anymore.

"You're very silly, y'know that?"

He froze, blinking at the still open closet before turning his head to see her drowsily watching him, a giddy smile on her face.

"....What?"

"You're so silly!" She repeated with the same joy.

He snorted, closing the closet sharply and walked over to her.

"You're drunk. Go to sleep."

She moved to stand on the bed shakily and cupped his cheeks. Crocodile froze. What the literal fuck was this woman doing? He should throw away all the liquor in the house immediately and-

In the softest voice Crocodile had ever heard from her, she spoke:

"You're the most beautiful being in all the four seas to me"

Crocodile's eyes widened. And distantly, a million and some miles away, an outrageously tall man with sunglasses felt ticked off for no rhyme or reason.

She then smiled prettily again and hugged him, leaning on him. Crocodile stood frozen for a few moments, till he heard some soft snores. This idiot had fallen asleep on him.

He carefully pulled her off him and lay her down on the mattress, pulling the sheet up to her shoulders. He stared at her sleeping figure for a few moments, then left the room. He needed a cigar.

In the coming weeks, his wife would be pleasantly surprised to see her husband be more receptive, by staying to eat more meals with her, and speaking more, if ever so little to her. She wouldn't ever know that those drunken words caused a small growth in her surly husband. She made him develop a crush on her.

[squiiv]

don't forget to kiss me!

..or else you'll have to miss me!

—    pavitr prabhakar x gn!reader

*reader knows that pav is spiderman

somewhat based off of ‘glue song’ by the one and only beabadoobee!

!!NOT PROOFREAD!!

☆ …

𒁷 sfw! 

𒁷 cw// a ton of smooching, clinginess, cheesy, pav is a little cutie patootie i love him :(

♥ waking up first thing in the morning to see your boyfriend peacefully sleeping, wrapped in your arms, clinging on to you as if he’ll lose you if he even dares to let go.

♥ you attempt to sit up, only to be brought closer (you're not even sure how it was possible to be even closer than you already were) to your boyfriend..he just can't let you go!

♥ after 20 long minutes, you've decided you should definitely get out of bed now, the two of you had already laid like this together for a long while..he won't mind, right?

♥ you were wrong. when you told your lovely, charming..boyfriend..that you needed to get up, this news only upset him.

“pav…. i really need to get up now.” you sighed, still holding on tightly to his figure. his eyes were still half closed, his long eyelashes batting against his face once he blinked to look up at your face, only to be met with a frown. once the words fully registered in his head, he pouts, “but..you promised you would stay in with me today..you wouldn't want to disappoint the spiderman, would you..?” 

you laugh softly at his words, you really didn't want to leave him, but some unexpected business came up. you began running your fingers through his hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “i know, i know. i don't want to leave you..but i'll be back so, so soon. you won't even notice i'm gone.” he pulls you in even closer, burying his head back into your chest. “can't you just do it later..? you're so warm..i could sleep here forever if it meant i would get to stay in your arms.” 

“...really?” you sigh, not denying the words he said did sound nice. you wish you could stay here forever with him, separated from the hectic lives you both lived. “i'm serious..! if i could stay here with you forever, i would be the happiest man alive..” you blush at his words, he always makes being forward seem so..easy. “i…i'm sorry, my love. i wish i could stay, i really do.” 

“..it's fine. i'll let you leave, if you promise me something..!” you're met with a disappointed look on pav’s face, and it only makes you feel even worse for leaving him like this. “oh, don't be sad..please. i promise, i'll do anything you wish, okay?” 

you start pressing soft kisses all over his face, starting with his forehead, down to his cheeks, and finally placing one on his lips. you continue peppering his face with soft, love-filled kisses, as you cup his cheeks with your hands. once you pull away, you finally see the blush covering his full face.

“my love, my darling..there isn't a single moment of us being apart from each other where i don't think about you and when i'll see you again..you brighten up my world, you lighten my every day.” he seems taken aback at your words, eyes widening ever so slightly. he then smiles, cupping your cheek in his hand while pressing a soft, gentle kiss to your lips as well.

“i love you so, so much my dear…i'm so glad i get to start and end every single day with you in my arms..i couldn't be happier.” he smiles, genuine love in his gaze as he makes eye contact with you. “now…promise me that tomorrow, we can stay here together all day in each other's arms..please?” he pleads, earning a soft grin from you.

“of course. nothing would make me happier than to spend my day wrapped up like this with you. i promise, when i get home later i’ll be back with presents in hand for you, alright?” you chuckle, pressing one last kiss to his forehead.

“i'll be waiting for you here…my love.”

this was my first fic btw, so i hope it's somewhat decent..😭 idk if i'll start posting on here or not! this was just a little test and i've been thinking about pav non stop lol ^_^ please remember he is a MINOR so i will not be posting anything nsfw. if i do end up posting on here my works will mostly be sfw!! i hope u enjoyed :)

P.S: ik in the description i said it was based off of glue song but it kinda isn't. i started writing this with the idea of that but i ended up forgetting about it.

[monsterritory]

I wonder if it's not spoilers, why is georgehd after c!dream and c!george? is there a reason why or it's just a part of his self inflicted selfishness?

I wanna answer this but it's literally explained in the story I'm planning to draw-

Ah whatever. I wanna talk about it. It just means you'll read it twice.

Laws of the multiverse dictate that Dreams and Georges will "always" be attracted to each other. Obviously exemptions exist, but they make up minority of the known multiverses. There's Dreams who are indifferent to their Georges and instead end up with their Sams, Punzes, Technos, Tommies. Or no one, you know.

(Referring specifically to My Versions of the characters for the rest of this post)

My DreamXD (they/them) has no interest in their George beyond the fact that they've made him. They love him the same amount they love all of their creations. DreamXD and George's romance is not canon to the Tale of a Dreamon.

GeorgeHD (he/they), however, as a God thinks that he was "meant" to be in love with DreamXD, because he knows that's how it goes in the majority of other universes. As gods they both know it.

He's not quite sure what happened that made Dee dislike him.

But he hates it. But fine, whatever, if Dee won't be in love with him, there's still Dream. Other DreamXDs make it work with Georges, why can't this GeorgeHD make it work with this Dream?

GeorgeHD sees Dream as something (lesser) that was promised to be theirs. A property they have a right to. A toy they're free to do with as they please. (What Dream feels about it is irrelevant. It's not like they have any empathy to care about his perception of them.)

Except DreamXD doesn't let them have him.

Which is extra annoying!! Not only does this god not want be in love with them, they're straight up saying "Never talk to me or my puppet again", hoarding all the fun!

Both DreamXD and Dream are deviants to the multiverse. Weirdos who have never found themselves attracted to the ones they were "meant" to love. They gave it a try, and it just didn't feel right to them. So they've chosen to follow their hearts instead.

(You see the metaphor? Yes? Good.)

GeorgeHD feels like he's the only "normal" person in this deviant universe. He's angry how unfair it is. He's disappointed. He's hurt, though he'd never admit it. All those feelings manifest in the idea that he would feel Whole, Complete, Content if he could just have Dream all to himself.

But as long as DreamXD is around - and they're around forever - that's not going to happen.

~ ~ ~

If you ask GeorgeHD what they think of George, they'll shrug. They'll "meh" about him. They're flattered that he's made in their image. But he is just another doll that DreamXD set out into the world. Nothing special.

Something buried deep down inside of GeorgeHD wonders if George also feels hurt that he's not with his Dream. If he is the only one who could ever understand them...

They'll shake their head about that familiar and yet forgotten feeling. There's no use wondering how someone else feels about anything.

In GeorgeHD's world, only what he wants matters.

[screamlet]

2024 Tumblr Top 10

tagged by @rcmclachlan​!!! what a fun journey through time, especially because this is the first time i've been in a tumblr-centric fandom... ever.

Share your top 10 tumblr posts from last year! Visit this site, scroll down to "Find your Tumblr Top 10," type in your username, and select 2024. When you get the results, simply click "Share to Tumblr" and you'll get an auto-generated draft for a post with links and previews. Make any adjustments you see fit.

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1. 558 notes - Nov 9 2024

Another hospital room. Buck takes a deep breath and closes his eyes again, letting it out and hoping he gets back to sleep. It doesn’t happen, though, because his brain catches up to his eyes: Maddie, wearing a yellow paper hospital mask, a hand anxiously on her belly, sitting in the chair next to him with that too-familiar oh-thank-god-you’re-finally-awake face… and Tommy leaning in the doorway.

this is from break and be mended, the 4.5k bucktommy fix-it fic i vomited up literally two days after the breakup aired. the spirit (of anger and spite) moved me i guess

2. 406 notes - Sep 17 2024

so imagine: s8e1, many bees, zero tommy until another last 5 minutes of the episode, the jeep pulling up to this small house...

this little whatever from a week before the s8 premiere when we thought the bees would be something and/or tommy would do anything and/or we would ever see tommy’s fucking house. the dodgeball of apollo missed me on every count.

3. 400 notes - Oct 4 2024

“well we’re so happy the co-pilot’s awake! everything’s gonna be just fine and we can land this plane now” god don’t they know they’re in part two of a three-part season opener, they did this to themselves

this random post from an episode live blog and it wouldn’t have gone anywhere without @dadvans​ and the assist, god this still makes me laugh

4. 232 notes - Dec 8 2024

It’s not until the elevator starts moving that he hears it through the doors: “Tommy! Tommy, wait—Tommy!”

the fic post for a wolf without a foot, my 34k bucktommy fix-it fic that just... 😐 i might write a buck interstitial to this one because buck’s (lack of) presence in it continues to bug me. no promises!!!!

5. 222 notes - Aug 28 2024

The plan doesn't involve kissing Evan, this man he's met three times. Disaster rescue, work tour, basketball disaster, Evan's apartment right now—four times. This is only the fourth time he's ever laid eyes on Evan Buckley, but Evan Buckley hasn't fucking blinked since he stepped into the room. Has Tommy?

for a random wip wednesday, i posted the whole tommy pov scene of The First Kiss from what are your intentions? and it’s still getting notes four and a half months later. this poor man!!! what’s a terrified gay to do!!!!!

6. 214 notes - Dec 11 2024

Tommy has one arm firmly around Buck and one finger pointing at Sal. "I'm from LA. When the hell would I have seen a live chicken?"

aw, this cute @118dailydrabble​ where buck learns about Maurice the Chicken while hanging out with tommy, sal, and bobby.

7. 213 notes - Dec 20 2024

Buck reads to himself: If my grief is violent enough, perhaps he will come back to life again... "Mayday, mayday, mayday, companies respond to an explosion at Harbor Station."

the beginning of blow up that chopper!!!!

8. 204 notes - Nov 16 2024

"Yeah, pretty much. You got some good parts, though. The really good ones." He swallows past the lump in his throat, and means it when he says, "I wouldn't give you any less." "But I wanted all of them," Evan says. "You gave me less, Tommy. Don't think you did me some favor, here. You didn't. You gave me less."

a wip wednesday excerpt from a wolf without a foot, gahhhhhhh yes it still kills me, too

9. 201 notes - Nov 26 2024

my favorite part of the bucktommy breakup fic explosion is seeing each writer focus on THE thing that bugs them most about this breakup and/or breakups in general...

"confessions” aired almost exactly two months ago and man has this fandom been a fucking ride since then

10. 198 notes - Dec 9 2024

unfortunately kinley cafe posits a REALLY interesting coffee shop au where the fluffy gay owners break up and a whole neighborhood has to scheme to get them back together so they don't sell the cafe

where is this coffee shop au!!!!!!!!!!!

tagging: YOU, YES, YOU