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bakuthedeku · 4 years ago

Text

their everyday game

Read on AO3

Words: 3,000

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

Things Midoriya Izuku is: A student, a sugar baby, a boyfriend, a brat.

Things Midoriya Izuku is not: Patient.

Or: Izuku wants attention from Kacchan and he is going to get it.

A commissioned fic for @insinirate !

Clack clack clack. The room is silent but for the steady breaths of its occupants and the rhythmic beat of fingers on plastic. Clear, wall-to-ceiling windows wash the sun’s gentle light into the room, and reveal a picturesque view of the sparkling city, looking like something straight out of a magazine.

Izuku glares at the extravagant view. He bets Kacchan is writing another one of those stupid reports of his.

Buzz. The clacking halts and Kacchan glances at his work phone for but a moment before the typing resumes.

Izuku takes a deep breath. Holds it. Puffs out his cheeks.

He slumps over in his seat and sighs obnoxiously.

God, he’s so damn bored.

Kacchan said he had to get one more hour of work done, and then he’d take a break. That had been almost three hours ago. ‘One hour’ had turned into two when Izuku left Kacchan to get ready for their lunch date and had foolishly gone straight to the cafe instead of meeting up with Kacchan at the office first. He’d waited all of ten minutes at their usual table before calling a company car and returning to find Kacchan still working in his office.

If not for Kacchan’s genuine surprise at the time and his gruff, yet sweet apologies, he would be a dead man already.

But Izuku still isn’t satisfied. Kacchan needs a break, and Izuku needs attention, stat. There’s only one solution: Izuku’s gonna annoy the shit out of Kacchan. So Izuku sucks in another breath and pouts at the ceiling. “Kacchaaaaan!”

Kacchan sighs, but he doesn’t respond. The silence in the room grows thick with expectation; Izuku’s long-perfect attention-seeking tone signals the start of the game they play every day.

For a moment, the only sound in the room is the clack of keys and occasional buzz from Kacchan’s work phone. Izuku wriggles against his plush seat, making the leather squeak obnoxiously, and clears his throat daintily, earning himself a glance. “Kacchan, I’m hungry…” Izuku peaks at Kacchan from beneath fluttering eyelashes.

Kacchan shifts his eyes back to his computer and types another line, pointedly loud against the room’s still silence.

When they play this game, whoever breaks first (or whoever wants whatever they’re after more) will relent and go to the other, so this can go one of two ways; Izuku will pull himself from his lounging position to drape himself over Kacchan, or Kacchan will pull himself from his work and lavish Izuku with the attention he deserves.

Today, Izuku takes it upon himself to move things forward—Kacchan is in one of those moods where it could take hours to break him down, and Izuku needs results now.

So with an impatient, gusty sigh pulled deep from his lungs, Izuku heaves himself up and slinks over to Kacchan’s grand desk, stalking up from behind him. When Kacchan makes the mistake of glancing at Izuku from the corner of his eye, Izuku pounces.

Izuku wrenches Kacchan’s chair around and jumps into his lap, laying himself over Kacchan as well as the plush arms of his chair. Kacchan grunts out a quiet oof at the sudden weight but wraps an arm around his waist nonetheless.

“I’m working, Deku,” Kacchan says dryly.

“Actually, Kacchan, I think you’ll find that you’re cuddling me and giving me attention right now, and I can’t imagine why you’d want to stop.”

Kacchan exhales quietly and wrestles down the corners of his lips—it’s not quite a smile, but it’s a good enough start for Izuku. “I have a lot to do, so as much as I’d love to keep giving you all the attention you desire, I really do have to get back to work.”

Izuku wraps an arm around Kacchan’s neck and pretends to think, then shakes his head solemnly. “Unfortunately, it’s a no from me. I’m hungry and I want lunch.”

“Then go get lunch.”

Izuku gives Kacchan a look for being deliberately obtuse.

“I’ll order in for you, then,” Kacchan offers.

Izuku huffs and pushes himself away from his comfortable spot against Kacchan’s broad chest. “Not good enough, Kacchan! We organised a lunch date, so I am getting a lunch date. Now.” Izuku sticks out his chin and dares Kacchan to say no.

Eyes lock. Izuku stares with determination, burying his will into impenetrable crystal red and steadfastly ignoring their alluring pull. Kacchan makes an aborted noise in the back of his throat, as if he was about to say something stupid but thought better of it, and finally sighs.

“Half an hour.”

Izuku smiles sweetly. “Two. You’re late, so you’ve accrued interest.”

Kacchan decides to focus on their negotiations over Izuku’s mockingly business-like tone: “Forty-five is the best you’re going to get from me.”

“An hour, not including travel time, or I’ll get our contract from your room and tear it up myself.” Izuku juts out a petulant lip. He’d never do it, but it gets his point across—Izuku isn’t budging on this.

Kacchan stares hard for a moment, then sags and rests his head in the crook of Izuku’s neck. “You’re such an annoying little shit,” he murmurs, warm against Izuku’s skin.

Izuku hides his smile in Kacchan’s hair and holds him tight. Another victory secured.

/-/

The cafe is a relaxing, familiar space for Izuku. He’s been a regular since before his arrangement with Kacchan began, and when it breached the confines of Kacchan’s highrise office, it was only natural Izuku would drag Kacchan to his favourite little spot.

After enough of their regular visits, the staff have stopped staring at Kacchan and his crisp suits and shiny Rolex watches, and they interact more or less normally with the pair when they stop by.

They place their orders, as usual, and Kacchan pays, as usual, before they settle in their favourite corner, waiting for drinks and food.

Izuku relaxes into his plush chair. He breathes in happiness, the scent of sugar and coffee and Kacchan’s handsome cologne, and breathes out his worries. He’s already plotting ways to extend the hour he was so graciously granted.

On the table before him is a generous slice of cake, which is ‘not a meal,’ according to Kacchan, but Izuku wanted it and he doesn’t care what Kacchan has to say about it. Kacchan is still waiting on his own food; some kind of salmon dish, which is about the fanciest thing he might be able to get his hands on at a casual place like this.

Before Kacchan can grouse at Izuku further, Izuku digs into his treat with no regard for manners, or as Kacchan calls them, “basic fucking social etiquette.” Whenever Kacchan attempts to spout this particular kind of bullshit, Izuku rather enjoys pointing out the hypocrisy of Kacchan of all people criticising other people’s social graces.

Izuku glances at Kacchan and licks his lips before he fills his mouth with fluffy, sugary goodness, making eye-contact with him as he lets out an exaggerated moan. “So good,” Izuku takes care to lick his lips and smiles, warm and sweet like molten honey.

Kacchan rolls his eyes, but he swallows like his mouth is dry. “You’re a damn menace, you little brat,” he says hoarsely, despite the way his eyes have been stuck on Izuku’s lips since he licked them.

“Hey!” Izuku kicks out with all the gentleness of a fussy toddler, landing a solid kick on Kacchan’s shin. “Don’t be mean. You would’ve missed our lunch date altogether if I hadn’t dragged you here.” Izuku tilts his head and gives an Oscar-worthy kicked-puppy pout.

“Deku…” Kacchan obviously misses the point of his pouting by a mile, because now he just looks sad, and that is not what Izuku was going for! “I’m sorry I forgot, baby. It’s not that I don’t want to spend time with you, it’s just...”

“You’re busy,” Izuku finishes for him, and leans across the table to (affectionately) swat his dumb boyfriend’s head. “I know. I’m not mad, but I do want your attention right now, so cut out the sadness and shower me with compliments like you’re supposed to.”

This earns a snort of laughter from Kacchan, who finally catches on and plays along with their usual game. His whole face brightens with his smile. “Ah yes, of course, dear. How could I spend even a second not overwhelming you with compliments?”

Izuku nods seriously. “Exactly. I’m just so shocked. You should know better than to neglect me by now,” Izuku winks, “Daddy.”

Kacchan makes a point of rolling his eyes, but he’s smiling broadly now, all teeth and crinkled eyes. “Alright, you’ve made your point, asshole. Eat your stupid cake already.”

/-/

Once they’ve eaten, and the redundant alarm Kacchan had set goes off, they return to the car. It’s time for Izuku to execute his plan.

Before Kacchan can put his belt on like the square he is, Izuku swings a leg over his lap and wraps himself around his boyfriend. Kacchan raises a questioning eyebrow before Izuku makes his demand: “Take me shopping.”

Kacchan smacks his head back against the headrest dramatically. “You have my card. I’ll have the driver drop you off wherever you want to go, okay?”

“I said take me shopping, not send me. You have to be there or there’s no use! Kacchan needs to come with me.”

Kacchan looks sad, then, and the stupid man has apparently learnt a thing or two from Izuku, because he’s got the bestest, heart-wrenchingest puppy-dog eyes without even trying. Resting his forehead against Izuku’s, Kacchan sighs softly against his lips. “You know I spend as much time as I can with you, baby. I can only ignore my work for so long, for you.”

Izuku aches, sudden and raw. “Oh, Kacchan… I know you’re busy, you work so hard! Kacchan really is amazing. But sometimes I want to be selfish and snatch up more of your time. You put too much pressure on yourself at work. You have so many employees so you don’t have to run yourself in the ground.”

“There are things my employees can’t do-”

“Like stopping you from working yourself to death? Right, that’s my job.” Izuku wiggles in Kacchan’s lap and captures his lips in a whisper-soft kiss. “So let me take care of you.” Izuku flutters his eyelashes and pulls his trump card. “Please, Daddy?” he asks, words sugar-sweet on his lips.

Cheeks glowing a suspicious strawberry red, Kacchan huffs and grabs Izuku by the waist, easily picking him up off his lap and depositing him on the seat next to him. He waits patiently for Kacchan to break, all the while butterflies dance in Izuku’s belly at his Daddy’s casual display of strength.

“The hell do you need so badly anyway?”

Truthfully, Izuku has no idea what he would wish to buy. Spoiled as he is, there are few things he’s wanted through life that he doesn’t now own, thanks to Kacchan. “I saw this gorgeous lingerie set and I just have to try it on before I buy it. And I need you there to tell me how good it looks,” Izuku states matter-of-factly.

Kacchan clears his throat and pinches Izuku’s cheek. “Fine. Let’s go look at this lingerie, then, baby.”

/-/

Izuku drags Kacchan out of the car by his hand and refuses to let go even after they’ve made it inside the shopping center.

“Come on, come on, I wanna see what this store has!” With Kacchan in tow, Izuku makes a beeline for his favourite lingerie store.

Izuku chatters away as he makes his way up and down the store, fluttering about pretty displays and shiny, luxurious lingerie sets hung up on the walls. He semi-consciously gives Kacchan a consistent stream of observations, rhetorical questions and mumbled postulations about what Kacchan might like best. He picks out half a dozen sets in just a few minutes, handing each one over to Kacchan for him to judge and/or hold like a handsome sentient display rack.

Soon enough, Kacchan flags down someone from the store to do the grunt work for him as he follows Izuku around the store like a loyal dog, face warring between fondness and annoyance.

Izuku is quite certain that the fondness far outweighs the annoyance, though. Izuku is, after all, impossible to hate.

After completing one circuit of the store, Kacchan interrupts Izuku before he can begin on a second. “What happened to the ‘one’ set you wanted, huh?” The man crosses his arms like a brute, biceps flexing handsomely as he pours disapproval into the question.

Izuku tuts at him. “There’s nothing wrong with browsing. Just look at how pretty this one is!” Izuku pulls out the dainty belt and harness set he was looking at, wiggling it around for Kacchan’s judgment.

“Mm,” Kacchan acknowledges, carefully collected as he judges the set. With his nod of approval, Izuku gleefully adds it to his soon-to-be-towering pile of things to try on, heedless of the fact that Kacchan immediately passes it off to the poor retail worker trailing after them.

Kacchan crosses his arms. “Don’t think I don’t realise what you’re doing, baby boy.”

Izuku ought to feel sheepish at being caught out so easily, but it’s to be expected when he’s trying to con Kacchan. Instead, he tilts his head and bats his big, round eyes, the perfect picture of innocence. “But Daddy, what exactly are you going to do about it?”

Kacchan crosses his arms, but Izuku’s got him there. Kacchan wants to see Izuku in this lingerie just as much as Izuku wants to try them on. And if all of this has the bonus of Izuku keeping Kacchan to himself for a little longer, then they don’t need to talk about that, really.

“I don’t know why I put up with you,” Kacchan says, and Izuku giggles, wrapping his arms around his Daddy’s neck.

“I can think of a few reasons,” he laughs. “Now come tell me how pretty I look in these!”

/-/

The driver has to help them get everything into the car. As soon as they’re in, Kacchan orders the driver to start the car and get them back to his work quickly.

It’s cute that Kacchan thinks they’d be going anywhere near his office if not for Izuku allowing it.

“Are you satisfied now, brat?” Kacchan asks, pulling on his seatbelt only after the car has started moving (ooh, rebellious).

Izuku hums. He takes a long few moments to rearrange the copious amount of bags around him, just because he can. He pretends to think very hard about it before nodding exaggeratedly. “Yes, I think I am. For today, at least.”

When Kacchan groans, Izuku shuts him up with a kiss, and they smile like kids in love against each other’s lips.

/-/

Deku seems to have tuckered himself out during their shopping trip, which is understandable considering the sheer amount of clothes he insisted he try on before making Katsuki buy everything for him. He spends the car ride back draped over Katsuki’s side, giving a docile little mumble every now and then when he sees a dog on the sidewalk or a pretty flower that apparently reminds him of Katsuki’s eyes.

(How can the fucker get even cuter than usual just because he tired himself out being a whiny brat all day? How is that fair at all to Katsuki’s heart? Not to mention his wallet...)

(It’s not like Katsuki can’t afford it, but damn, lingerie is surprisingly fucking expensive.)

Katsuki carefully shakes Deku awake when they arrive, because he has learnt the hard way that if he leaves Deku to doze or wakes him too quickly, there will be hell to pay. So he accepts Deku’s blindly groping hand into his own and leads him into the building, where Izuku says something vague about harassing his friend in reception and stumbles off, bleary-eyed.

Katsuki has some interns come down and transfer Deku’s things into his private car so he can attempt to get some work done before Deku makes it upstairs. Deku usually settles down after a few hours of monopolising Katsuki’s time and attention, but with the mood he’s in today, Katsuki doesn’t like his chances of getting anything else done.

He’s gotten as far as opening up an email from a partner company when the door clicks open and Deku sashays in like he owns the place.

And, okay. Katsuki owns the place, and Deku has him wrapped around his pinky finger, so he does own the place in every way but name. But only Katsuki is allowed to know that, god damn it.

“You look like a bumbling fawn like that,” Katsuki informs him, just to see Deku’s sleepy eyes flash with indignation, and watch his cheeks glow a pretty, flustered pink.

Deku’s response doesn’t disappoint, and his nose even scrunches up like a disgruntled bunny, but Katsuki’s gone and shot himself in the foot because now Deku is stomping up to him in a way that says he means business. Deku collapses heavily and claims the space of Katsuki’s lap, steadfast in the fact that it is his and his alone.

Deku slaps him petulantly on the chest. “Meanie,” he mumbles, and curls up on Katsuki’s lap, nestling his head beneath his chin and settling against him, a puzzle piece slotted perfectly in its place. “I’m tired,” Deku says, as if that isn’t obvious already.

Kastuki huffs, presses a feather-soft kiss to the crown of his head. “Just rest, idiot.”

“‘Mkay Daddy…”

Katsuki strokes his fingers through the softness of Izuku’s hair and cradles him as Deku’s body relaxes into Katsuki’s own. “Good boy,” he murmurs.

Pressed tenderly together, Deku continues babbling quietly to fill the peaceful sunset air. Katsuki nods along and holds his baby securely in his arms until he floats off into sleep.

Clack clack clack. With a watchful eye on Deku, lovely and sleep-soft against his chest, Katsuki quietly gets back to work.

#bakudeku #katsudeku #bnha #my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #sugar daddy AU #my fic #commissioned writing #commission #post #long post

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aizawaskittenwhore · 4 years ago

Text

𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘦.

𝘧𝘵. 𝘪𝘻𝘶𝘬𝘶, 𝘣𝘢𝘬𝘶𝘨𝘰, 𝘥𝘢𝘣𝘪 (+𝘩𝘢𝘸𝘬𝘴), 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘪𝘻𝘢𝘸𝘢.

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦: 18+ 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵. 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵.

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴: 1.5𝘬

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘵𝘰𝘺𝘴/𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨/𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘶𝘯𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦, 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘥𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢, 𝘤𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺/𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘦𝘹𝘩𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 18. 𝘯𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵, 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬. 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺, 𝘪 𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘴. 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺. 𝘮𝘸𝘢𝘩.

“man, fuck you, the horse you rode in on, and your weak ass dick! just leave me the fuck alone.” you spit, arms crossed as you shoot the man in front of you a glare hot like jet fuel.

𝘪𝘻𝘶𝘬𝘶:

izuku midoriya is one of the sweetest people to grace the earth

there’s no doubt about it.

but know he is not afraid to put yo ass in a fucking headlock and pound his way into you, voice thick and raspy as he asks you just who the fuck you think you’re talking to.

he’s grown up quite a bit since high school

and refuses to get bitched by anyone, especially his own girlfriend.

a saccharine smile inches across peony pink lips, spreading over porcelain teeth

“you uh... you wanna repeat that, honey?”

you know you’ve made a mistake

he’s got that look in his eye, ravenous and wicked

“look...izuku, baby, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to snap like that—“

“that’s not what i asked. i asked you...if you wanna repeat that.”

would definitely strap your ankles to a spreader bar, reveling in the way you continue to writhe against it

only to cry out in desperation once you realize that the more you struggle, the wider your legs go

or he’ll make you cry as you struggle to form a coherent apology, words choppy from the the remote controlled vibe is sending shockwaves through your heavily sensitive clit

he’d kneel above you, smile wide and innocent as he turns it up to the second most powerful setting, hard-on growing at the sight of your head lolling back while you try to appease him with sorry after sorry

“i-izuku—fuck, fuck! mmh�� it’s too much....please, please, ‘m sorry! i didn’t mean it, ’m too sensitive—please just let me make it up to you baby—“

“all you gotta do is say the magic words sweetheart, and i’ll give you what you need.”

yeah, he’s one of those motherfuckers.

“remind me who’s pussy this is, and this’ll all be over with.”

“god, fine!! it’s yours okay! nobody else’s..now please, please fuck me izuku, i need you—“

doesn’t hold back for a second when he’s staking his claim all over your body, a calloused thumb roving over your clit gently, mindful of your sensitivity but edging you closer and closer to a fifth orgasm

happily smears strings of thick, sticky cum all over your stomach to mark you as his

and doesn’t hesitate to lick it off the supple, soft skin of your torso, the milky white substance congealing with transparent slippery saliva

he grasps your face firmly, fingers pushing your cheeks inwards and causing your spit slicked lips to jut out in a pretty little pout

“open.” he mutters before dripping the salty concoction onto your awaiting tongue, a throaty groan rumbling in his chest as he watches you happily swallow every last drop

“good girl.”

the aftercare is immaculate, izuku taking his time to wipe you clean so tenderly, lips pressing against each and every bruise, your body pliant as he whispers sweet reassurances into your sweat soaked skin

“much better now, right?”

you nod, eyes heavy as you sink into the warmth of his chest, hands clinging to him like he could disappear at any moment

“happy i could help you relieve some of that tension honey.”

“but talk to me like that again, and i promise you that’ll be the last time you call anything about me weak, especially how i fuck you. got it?”

prepare to be not only throughly sore the next day, but to have to conceal fingerprint shaped bruises on your hips and thighs

takes pictures of your fucked out face to have for future incidents where you decide you wanna talk like you have zero home training

and isn’t afraid to flash katsuki one or two whenever he gets to talking about how he could take you from him.

𝘣𝘢𝘬𝘶𝘨𝘰:

“so that’s how you wanna act, hm? if you needed some dick you should’ve just fuckin’ said so instead of always runnin’ your damn mouth.”

he whirls you around, pelvis pressing into the small of your back, rivulets of sweat beading at the base of your neck from his close proximity

he’s such a glutton for putting little bitches like you in their place.

blade sharp canines dragging against the curve of your neck, pathetic attempts to maintain your resolve falling from unsteady lips

“the hell’s wrong with you—you already know i’m with izuku...i’m not doing this shit to him again—”

but you were already gone when his lips slotted against yours, body throbbing at the contact

now izuku was a good lover, a giver, a pleaser at heart

always putting your enjoyment above his

but eventually one grows tired of slick tongues and curved fingers, pretty whines and gentle kisses

you wanted “fuck you”s, spit flying along sick expletives hurled at your bowed, desperate figure, sweet sticky semen coating your throat after it was abused and stroked as though you were a piece of plastic.

and as luck may have it, katsuki was more than willing to provide.

yet today you’d had enough, his subtle touches when you passed one another had garnered izuku’s attention; you’d reassured the male that it was nothing to bother with, that the two of you were just coworkers.

at least when his balls aren’t in your slutty fucking mouth, thick bubbled spit dripping onto your home screen as you text izuku that you’ll be home late for “stir-friday” once again.

the best sex was on days like today, when you got just a little too reckless at the mouth

when you needed a not so gentle reminder of who’s leaving you breathless all hours of the night

takes his time with you, fingers teeming with a slight brine as they’re sloppily thrust into your mouth with a “shut the fuck up talking to me like you don’t know who the fuck i am.”

degradation? baby, you’ve met the man.

“wanna act like a bitch, that’s fine. just don’t complain when i leave you limping like one, got it?”

you’re shoved atop a desk, it’s contents forgotten as katsuki latches onto a tit and proceeds to leave mark after mark, striving to rid any trace of your lover

panties tugged to the side, fingerpads waltzing up the length of your—no, his pussy

kisses down your sternum and the plush skin of your stomach, flipping you opposite him before snaking his tongue between your southernmost lips, devouring you like a man starved

but doesn’t let you cum, not yet anyway

“katsuki—please, i need it, don’t fucking tease..”

hates when you whine because it chips at his hard exterior, he’d give anything to pull another cry from you

“beg for it then. you had so much to say earlier, eh? go ahead and put your mouth to better use, fuckin’ slut.”

spanks you while he eats it from the back cause he can

and don’t even get me started on his size kink

lives for making you feel small against his large stature and even larger ego

“damn, you’re tight...thought deku would’ve broken you in a bit more for me by now—”

his pace is angry and unforgiving like his mouth, leaving you no mercy when he finally takes his place between your thighs

“that’s it...take that shit. don’t run...come on, tell me who’s dick you go dumb for, say it—“

“yours! j-just yours, never ‘zuku. fuck! m’ so fucking close please, please—“

cant fill you up like he wants, but settles for painting your body with splotches of white, watching them mix with your now-purpling bruises

and when izuku calls your phone on the hour to ask when you’ll be home, that cocky fuck answers

“relax. your little girlfriend and i are at the office with some reports, she’s so damn uptight...been on my dick this entire time. “

“should probably loosen her up more, maybe she’d be less annoying.”

𝘥𝘢𝘣𝘪:

he secretly loves it when you get like this

while dabi loves the rush of tossing around some brainless slut with a thing for fucking mass murderers

pussy was much better when it came with a little resistance, a little push back before he got what he wanted

“dabi come on..let her be. i’m sorry sweetness, this guy botherin’ you?”

his counterpart, keigo, was a top tier scumbag with grade-A looks, words mingling with a dulcet voice that could turn water into wine if he pleased

sienna wings bristled against his shoulder blades as he leaned down, an arm coming across your chest casually, bent over the back of the couch

“don’t call me that shit. actually, both of you are bothering me.” you grit, a hand swatting away tanned nimble fingers that were slowly making their way towards a breast

“see what i mean kei? she’s being a fucking brat. can’t stand bitches like her, always thinking they’re too good for guys like us.”

dabi takes a seat to your left, cyan eyes raking over the curve of your hips ravenously, staples gleaming in the bar’s gentle yellow glow

he was going to have so much fun breaking you in.

“ i think i know what her problem is....somebody just wants a little attention, right? hell, look at how she’s dressed...”

keigo’s eyes have taken on a darker energy, a hand winding around the width of your neck and squeezing lightly

“i don’t want anything from either of you assholes—wait, the hell are you trying to—ah!”

taking advantage of your pliant state, dabi’s hands begin to roam over exposed skin, a scarred set of hands slithering up your top

his abrasive fingers tweak your nipples roughly, rolling them between a forefinger and thumb with a lustful glare

“come on...don’t you want us to make you feel good? tell us you don’t want us to cream you like a fuckin’ twinkie, and we’ll leave your bitchy ass high and fucking dry, just like this.”

you hate them, the last thing you want is for either of these douchebags to be what gets you off

but god do keigo’s lips feel like heaven on earth when they’re against your pulse point like that, and dabi’s profuse experience shows in the way he manipulates your body to make you sigh in ecstasy, fingers slipping past drenched lace with ease to tease your sensitive clit...

“we—we shouldn’t do this out here, someone might see...s-shit, ah fuck—”

“so what? don’t want everyone to see how much you like getting double teamed?” keigo taunts, tongue darting out to soothe the harsh bruise he’d finished sucking into the skin beneath your ear

“nah, i think we’ll take you right here. besides, it’s just us and the boss man tonight. ‘should let him watch though, maybe he’d learn a thing or two about what a good fuck really looks like instead of that hentai shit.”

“so...you in or not? my hand’s starting to cramp.”

you nod, the motion serving at the catalyst for a number of debaucherous things that would soon happen to your body

marking is an absolute must

keigo’s practically feral once he knows you’re his to play with, love bites littering the expanse of your tits, neck, even the inside of your thighs

dabi marks you too, but he’s not nearly as nice as keigo, leaving handprints all over your ass, each one accompanied by a harsh yet tolerable burn

you can thank his quirk for that

they’re sloppy and they know it, dabi’s spit creating web-like strings connecting your pussy lips together, the metal barbell wedged between tongue muscle retreating from beneath your trembling thighs

meanwhile keigo’s reveling in the way your spit coats his dick in an effortless gloss, a hand keeping your head steady as he drives into your throat with reckless abandon

the saliva making its way down through the valley of your breasts while you struggle to breathe, eyes watering in both panic and pleasure as the two use you like a toy

they take turns, metal and heady sweat flood your tastebuds when dabi takes on keigo’s previous stance

dabi certainly makes sure you give his balls special attention. it doesnt enhance his pleasure, he just likes seeing you get so nasty for him.

not so high and mighty when you’re gargling the dick of one of japan’s most wanted, are you?

keigo’s dick reaches depths you didn’t think possible, tip prodding your innermost spots and making you sputter pathetically around dabi’s length, eyes burning as you try to control the heat in your lungs

“nah nah nah, don’t get all teary eyed now—thought it was “fuck us and our weak ass dick”? hm? well this weak ass dick’s makin’ you choke like a two dollar whore, and keigo’s about to pump that sloppy cunt full of cum...still think you’re better than us?”

you’re tossed between the two men like a ragdoll, until your body’s spent and you’re bred so good that you drip with their mix of fluids every time you shift a little

the men don’t hesitate to compliment your endurance, praising you for being “such a good little fucktoy”.

which in dabi’s words, is the closest you’ll ever get to a “sorry for bothering you”.

𝘢𝘪𝘻𝘢𝘸𝘢:

let me tell you a thing or two about shota.

he has no time, or tolerance, for bullshit.

between his atrocious sleep schedule, nightly patrols, and his day job as a high school teacher, he doesn’t have the capacity for mind games

so when you’d snapped on him like that, he did what he felt like was the most logical thing

he left you alone. he wasn’t about to get into some childish argument all because he didn’t give you the reaction you’d wanted over a dress

aizawa’s not a reactive man by nature

so when you’d purchased the sultry number, seams tight and neckline waivering on indecent

he’d merely hummed at the article of clothing in approval, committing the sight to memory before going back to finish reviewing his lesson plans for next week

which to you, wasn’t good enough. you wanted him to exhibit some sort of lust, something that made you feel like you still had him in the palm of your hand

it wasn’t like the two of you weren’t having sex, no not at all. but you wanted to feel like he wasn’t just attracted to you, but craved, desired, was desperate for your touch every now and again

and when he’d given his...lackluster feedback, you exploded, the two of you briefly exchanging words before you’d said that. shota was in no mood to argue, so he excused himself from the room to continue his work

“sorry if i actually want to, you know, feel desired by my own boyfriend? god, it’s like you don’t even look at me anymore.”

that comment stung, even recalling your wounded tone made his heart ache

was he really not paying attention to you?

but, unsurprisingly, the feelings of anger didn’t abate. just what made you think you could play these games with him, the two of you were grown, you knew if you wanted something all you had to do was ask—it made no sense

steel pen tip digging into the hurried scrawl of kaminari’s essay....if you could even call it that, he rose from his desk, relieved his tense neck from the presence of hair by knotting it into a high ponytail

beginning to strip as he made his way toward your shower

you wanted him to look at you? alright. he’d do exactly that, and then some. just remember, be careful what you wish for.

“shota? look... i’m sorry for how i acted earlier. i should’ve just communicated how i felt instead of blowing up on you like that, i just get frustrated with how much you work and how we never see each other, and it makes it hard for me to—mmph!”

he meets your lips with a subdued roughness, hands splayed across your hips, water trickling across stiffened knuckles while he fumbled and scoured for any piece of you he could manage to grasp

“you said you feel like i don’t look at you anymore.”

“lets fix that. i have a proposition for you. if you manage to hold eye contact with me for however long it takes for you to cum, my body’s yours to do whatever you want with.”

“however...look away for even a second, and i’ll have no problem reminding you just how much you can take before you’re begging for me to fuck you. you know how...efficient i can be. sound fair?”

now something he’d alluded to, but never said about this little agreement? there was no way for you to win.

on days where his exhaustion levels weren’t at an all time low, he’d find himself lapping at the slightly acidic, rich nectar between your thighs for hours and hours on end

so what made you think you even had the resolve to maintain eye contact the entire time?

you lose, though that was to be expected

and shota couldn’t be happier about it

now while it’s practically canon that he’s into bondage, let’s switch things up a bit

honestly, he’s the type to love proving a point.

he’ll make you ride his dick, not letting you stop for a second even though he’s practically in your stomach at this point

bad at it? he doesn’t care. your knees are giving out? not his problem.

“sho-please, i can’t, ‘s too big...fuck—“

“damn, and to think i had ‘weak ass dick’ before. now you can’t take it? pick a side sweetheart, your desperation is showing.”

he’s not incredibly vocal in the bedroom as that’s just not who he is

but makes an exception when it comes to making fun of you

“come on, you can swallow more than that, right? tch. you’ve gotten lazy.”

is another one of those “take a photo for future reference” type of people. but he’s respectful of not only your privacy but his own, and keeps it in the hidden photos folder of his camera roll like a sane adult.

he had to learn the hard way about the importance of concealing scandalous materials that one time hizashi was using screen sharing to suggest a new learning course during a staff meeting

only for the blonde to scroll and several pairs of eyes in the room to be blessed (or cursed) with the sight of a rather ecstatic looking woman bent in a position that would make a gymnast blush

also likes to give you sloppy, shallow half strokes to drive you to the point of insanity before spreading your ass cheeks and molding your body to the bed beneath you

“you wanna know what i was thinking about when you walked out with that dress on? hm? i wondered... ‘how long it would take before we used it as a cumrag after i was done with you?’ i thought about doing this.”

oh, and by the way, there’s a mirror above your bed for a reason. but we’ll get into that some other time, won’t we?

#izuku midoriya x reader #bakugo x reader #dabi x reader #hawks x reader #aizawa x reader #deku smut #bakugo smut #dabi smut #hawks smut #aizawa smut #mha smut #mha x reader #bnha x reader #kittybutmakeitferal #thanks once again for 1k you nasties!

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troubatrain · 4 years ago

Text

want you to want me - m. tkachuk

a/n: i’m awful at intros but this fic is my whole ass child. i started it months ago and i picked it up back and then i just couldn’t stop writing. now we’re at a whopping 10k words and i’m really happy with the way this one came out. i hope you guys like it as much as i loved writing it.

big thanks to @hookingminor @igor-shestyorkin & @tkafuckit for reading this as i wrote it and gassing me up ily all sm

warnings: smut

You were Matthew’s dream girl, and you didn’t have a fucking clue. You were leaning against the cold metal bleachers of your former high school, chatting with whatever teacher probably wanted to hear all about that shiny NWSL contract you signed right out of college with the Chicago Red Stars. It was well deserved, a few national titles in college put you in the position in the first place, and Matthew respected the hell out of you. You wouldn’t know, by the way he never seems like he actually wants to speak to you and the few snide remarks about your sport in general. That started forever ago, when Matthew royally fucked up any chance he had with you later in life because he was a competitive asshole.

It started when you were twelve, and middle school was nothing short of a mess. Matthew was growing into his own, adding a near foot to his height over one summer while his father and coaches doted on the fact that he was getting bigger. Getting bigger meant getting better, and for a few years winning was the most important thing in the world. But, becoming a hormonal preteen came with something else, feelings about the girl who sat three rows behind him in almost all of his classes.

Then third period gym class came around, and Matthew was a competitive monster. The kind of kid who took that way too seriously, and you accidentally became public enemy number one. You were the only person in his class who could even come close to beating him at anything, because you were just as much of an athlete as he was. Soccer had become your craft, and much like Matthew, you declared you’d go pro one day. So, Matthew did what any other insecure twelve year old boy would, he teased you relentlessly. It was awful, but by the time Matthew had gone off to play for the National team you had forgotten about his bullshit.

Apparently, you’d done something in a past life to warrant dealing with Matthew for longer than you ever anticipated. Jamie was your little sister, and Taryn’s best friend. Best friend was probably understatement, the pair were inseparable on and off the field. They trained together, they played on the same teams and that meant way too much time with the rest of the Tkachuk’s. You learned quickly, that the rest of their family was wonderful and Matthew seemed to be too thick headed to fall in line.

You tolerated Matthew, brushing his silly remarks off just like you did when you were younger. The thing was, Matthew didn’t want you to just tolerate him, but he didn’t know how to get you to stop hating him. You make your way over to Matthew who’d been standing next to his brother since the start of your sister’s game.

“Hi Brady,” You greet, tapping Brady on the shoulder who pulled you into a bone crushing hug. That annoyed Matthew the most, the way you seemed to love his siblings and despise him. In your defense, nobody was more supportive of your professional career than Brady, who’d made a promise to catch a game the second he could, “Hi Matthew.”

You were waiting for something from Matthew, an acknowledgement for finally achieving a dream of yours. You’d gotten the congratulations from the rest of his family, a massive celebration because Keith thought you deserved it. Matthew probably didn’t think you did. You could practically hear his smug little voice about how much his recently inked contract was compared to yours, because you’d heard it since you were kids. He used to rip on your athletic abilities every chance he could, something about how it didn’t matter how hard you could kick a ball you couldn’t hold a hockey stick so he was just better.

“You’re here!” You hear the chipper voice of your little sister approach, Jamie’s sweaty postgame arms wrapped around your waist. You’d been in Chicago, signing some paperwork and looking into finding a place to stay when you had to go for camp. You promised you’d make it back in time, and your flight landed less than five hours ago but you made it.

Matthew bit the inside of his cheek to keep his smile to himself, watching his own sister push past him to see you. Taryn loved you, because sometimes she just needed a big sister and her brothers were in another country most

of the time. It was the part that killed him the most, seeing you with his family. You fit right in, a fierce athlete with drive that rivaled his own. Brady side-eyed his own brother, watching him instead of the scene unfolding in front of him. He was frustrated with his own brother for not just telling you the truth, that he teased you because he was an idiot who didn’t know how to handle having a crush on you.

But Brady was going to do it himself if his brother didn’t.

***

Matt, you don’t have a girlfriend right?

Matthew knew damn well he should not have answered his sister’s question, but when he realized her best friend had been sitting right next to her in the kitchen, his curiosity got the best of him. So he did, telling his sister he was single and sparing her details of any of the girls he’d gone on dates with the past year. That was his life is Calgary, a constant revolving door so no one would see what was underneath layers of sarcasm and angst. But every summer, he’d come home and wonder when he’d start to build a life for himself, and if he’d ever find that person to do it with. That was when his brain would start to wander, fantasies of a future that always seemed to involve you. He loved to imagine it, the years that you’d both spend supporting the other’s dream. Matthew would do anything to make sure you achieved yours, and he thought you’d do the same. Then you’d both settle down, the big house with the white picket fence and a shiny ring on your finger Matthew put there himself and years of arguing about what sport your future children would play - he’d even consider letting you have just one.

Unfortunately, none of that could be real until he figured out how to get you to hate him less. Taryn apparently had the same idea, and had been scheming with your sister for months. The two girls were looking at Matthew with devilish grins on their faces, like whatever they came up with would totally work.

“Y/N doesn’t have a boyfriend,” Your sister hums, sipping the smoothie they forced Matthew to drive them to go get, “It’s sad actually-”

“We think you should date,” Taryn explains, Matthew’s eyes went wide. His sister didn’t know the whole story, or just how far back this stupid fued went. Taryn always loved you, so Matthew just kept his remarks to himself.

“I know you know Y/N doesn’t like me very much,” Matthew explains, “So tell me how that’s going to work.”

“Apologize to her, if she can forgive me for anything she’ll forgive you,” Jamie sighs, thinking of all the times you’d shown her mercy when she didn’t deserve it.

“You’ve got to be sorry,” Brady interrupts, mouth full of food while he goes to go look for more in the fridge. He turns around, Matthew’s eyes giving him daggers, “What? You were a dick to her for years, you’ve got to fix that first.”

It didn’t take much convincing after that, Taryn had already planned out what Matthew should say to you. Matthew wasn’t going to repeat those words, because he knew exactly what he’d say to you if he ever got the chance. He was trying to fix his past, because the way he acted towards you was the one thing he regrets.

So with the help of your little sister and the Find my Friends app, Matthew was pulling up to a soccer field he’d been to plenty of times. He used to run through the park nearby, catching a glimpse of your practices when you were in high school and Matthew was an afterthought. He hops out of his car, smiling when he could see you running drills alone. You were dribbling the ball, counting to yourself while you were weaving through cones you set up.

“I’ve never been good at those,” Matthew calls out, walking over to you while you stopped and caught your breath, “I kick the cones with my skate every single time.”

“Maybe you’re not as good as you think you are,” You tease, grabbing your water and guzzling it down, “What are you doing here?”

“I, uh, I came to apologize?” Matthew admits, knowing his face was probably bright red. He was nervous, the good kind like he got before a big game, “I was just an insecure kid then, and you didn’t deserve what I did just because I was afraid you’d beat in something.”

Matthew left out the part where he felt like he was still that kid all the time. All of those insecurities about himself seemed to be picked up by every reporter in Canada when he was there. You bit your lip, pretending like you were trying to debate whether or not you should forgive Matthew at all. In reality, you would have forgiven him ages ago if he’d just apologized sooner. It was so long ago, and sometimes you thought Matthew’s constant taunting made you better. He was pleading, baby blue eyes staring at you sadly while he waited for your answer. He looked like he didn’t think he deserved to be forgiven, shoulders slumped while he tried to read your body language. It was something you noticed about Matthew forever ago, he could have everything in the world but when he looked at you he seemed almost sad.

“I mean I could forgive you, but only if you beat me,” You cross your arms, raising an eyebrow at Matthew, “If I win, I don’t have to and if you win all is forgiven.”

“Really? Isn’t that why we were in this situation to begin with?” Matthew points out, crossing his arms at you.

“I thought you weren’t that kid anymore,” You remind of his own words, testing him to see if he’d put his money where his mouth was. Matthew smirks, chuckling to himself, “C’mon Tkachuk let’s see what you got.”

Matthew shook his head, laughing and lining up next to you. You both counted to three, sprinting down the field at full force. Matthew knew his height was the only thing working to his advantage while he tried to keep up with you. You were nearing your finish line, and Matthew didn’t think he was going to win. You were going to forgive him regardless, but Matthew didn’t know that. His arms stretched out, grabbing your waist and pulling you into his chest. Matthew turned his body around, stepping over the line before you did.

“God, you’re such a fucking cheater Matthew,” You hit his chest, Matthew’s hands still firmly placed on your hips.

“I didn’t want to lose,” Matthew admits, all of his smug attitude diminishing immediately, “Just want you to forgive me.”

“I’ll forgive you if you never pull that shit on me again,” You poke his chest, slipping out of his grip and running to your stuff before he could notice how nervous he was making you.

No. Absolutely not. You told yourself while you checked your phone, rolling your eyes at the warning text from Jamie that Matthew was on his way, you couldn’t have anything but indifference to Matthew Tkachuk. It got harder everytime you saw him, the past few years had been nothing short of kind to him, he was growing from a dumb immature boy to a man more and more every summer. You turn around, peeking at Matthew who was sitting down and catching his breath, a winning smile on his face, the same kind he had the very first time he schooled everyone at floor hockey in middle school.

Maybe you could be friends.

***

Matthew liked having you as a friend, mostly because as of right now that was all he was going to get. You definitely didn’t trust him, which was valid considering Matthew had been a dick to you for years, but he was working on it. He had to, that uncontrollable feeling that he cared about you was getting harder to shove back down with every year that passed.

“You’re friends now, you don’t need to stare at her like a creep anymore,” Brady scoffs, watching his brother gawk at you from afar. Matthew couldn’t help it, you just had a glow about you, you always did, but somehow in the summer you were golden. Tonight you looked even better, maybe it’s because you smiled at him when he walked instead of scowling like you usually did.

“He’s in love with you,” Steph giggles, sipping her drink and giving Matthew a side eye, “He’s been staring at you all night.”

“He apologized to me,” You confess, holding in that little secret about Matthew’s visit to the field even from your best friend. You had the same friends, the same group of people who’d been pushing the two of you to work it out for years. It wasn’t that you didn’t want them to know that they no longer had to worry about one of you blowing up because the other was there, you just wanted everyone to let it go too. Matthew deserved a little forgiveness, you could only imagine the pressure he felt on himself back then, and while he didn’t totally deserve your protection - you were going to give it to him, “Don’t-”

“Oh wonder why, I know it’s because he looooves you,” Steph teases, “Did you forgive him?”

“Yeah I mean we’re both older and I’d like to think he’s wiser, and besides our parents are way too close,” You knew this was going to be your excuse for a while. It was better for everyone that you forgave him, Jamie and Taryn spent more time together than you’d spend with anyone and you're just as close with the rest of their family. It wasn’t untrue that it was in fact for the best, but that didn’t mean Matthew’s stupid dimples didn’t persuade you before you could think about anyone else, “Can we stop talking about this?”

Matthew’s eyes didn’t leave you once that night, especially after the way Steph downed tequila shots and convinced you to join her. You deserved to celebrate, you’d accomplished something Matthew knew was your biggest dream because it was the same as his. He was proud of you, not that he’d gotten a chance to show it.

“If you’re going to go pro Y/N, you’ve got to start keeping up,” Brady chirps, watching you stumble over your own feet to walk over to him and Matthew. Matthew had seen this once before, a level of drunkenness where you turned into bambi but that was so long ago he never thought he’d see it again.

“I’ll go pro in beating your ass Brady,” You snap back, shooting daggers over Brady who was already cracking up, “Hi Matthew.”

“Hi,” Matthew’s voice was small, a weird sound considering he was usually the loudest in the room. Brady scoffs, walking away from the two of you before he snaps at how hopelessly in love his brother was. You turn your head in confusion, your mind far too hazy to realize why Brady was so annoyed in the first place, causing Matthew to chuckle, “Want to play? Might be best if we’re on the same team.”

Matthew’s thumb shot over to the beer pong set up on the other side of the room, a mischievous smirk on face, “I mean if it’s for the best.”

Matthew’s arm wrapped around your shoulders holding you close to his chest while you both played pong was definitely not for the best, and it wasn’t helping that stupid crush you had on him. You could feel Steph’s stare from the corner of the room, and you look at her to mouth a don’t at her. It was nice having Matthew on your team, finally a moment where instead of arguing with each other about who’s elbow was clearly over the table - you got to do the same thing to Brady.

“Brady you’re cheating,” You call out, Matthew’s head thrown back in laughter at your seriousness.

“You heard her Brady, elbows over the table,” Matthew breathes out, his body still rumbling with laughter at his little brother’s expense.

“Oh look at you two, you’re just gonna raise some winners one day aren’t you?” Brady chirps back, both happy to see you getting along and annoyed once he realizes that means he was going to get roasted by both of you now. You felt heat rush to your cheeks, tucking your face into Matthew’s arm in hopes no one saw the way you shrunk at that stupid joke.

“We’re winners right now,” Matthew calls out, his last ball landing in the cup and sealing the game for the two of you. Matthew would raise winners with you, it was something he thought about from time to time, but those thoughts were never going to see the light of day, “Alright drunky I think it’s time to get you home.”

“You can stay, I’ll just catch a ride with someone,” You waive Matthew off, who shook his head no at you before you even started speaking.

“One, my dad would kick my ass if he knew I left you,” Matthew starts with, holding up one finger with another on the way, “Two, we’re friends now and I’d like to make sure you don’t die before you see a pro game.”

Matthew had seen you this drunk before, but what he didn’t know was that getting you home would be more difficult than he thought. You started in the direction of your house, but apparently you were a runner and a speedy one at that. Now you were barely two blocks away from Matthew’s parents place and if he could at least get you there he’d be able to call it a night - which wasn’t fucking easy.

“Alright I’ve had enough,” Matthew huffs, jogging to catch up with you and scooping you into his arms. You were hanging over his shoulder, Matthew making his way down the street with the house in his sightline. You could have cared less, laughing your ass off while Matthew walked up the stairs and finally placed you back down on your feet, “Be quiet, go up to my room and get some clothes and go sleep in the guest room.”

You weren’t quiet, not at all and Matthew was amazed not one of his parents came down to see what all the chaos was about. After Matthew had to walk you up the stairs, running back down for some water and hoping you weren’t a disaster by the time he got back - he found you in his bed. You were curled up right in the middle, an old London Knights shirt on your body, Matthew’s favorite. Matthew grabs his comforter, throwing it over your body. He sighs, leaning against his door frame and smiling to himself at how comfortable you looked, flicking off the light and retreating to the guest room.

Matthew hated the guest room. He hated how hard the mattress was and after a few hours of no sleep and tossing and turning - he gave up. Matthew hoped no one else was up, but not to his surprise his mother was already in the kitchen, and judging by the look on her face, she knew who was upstairs.

“Care to explain?” Chantal smirks, raising her eyebrows at her son. Matthew’s face got red, his landing on the back of his neck to cover the blush.

“She fell asleep before I could even get her to the guest room,” Matthew shrugs, hoping his mom wouldn’t push it any further, “I, uh, apologized the other day.”

“Good,” Chantal hums, a knowing look on her face. She didn’t like to push Matthew, her one kid who seemed to be a little rougher around the edges than the others, but that silly feud never sat right with her, “Here, bring her a coffee, I’m sure she needs it.”

Matthew nods, grabbing the mug his mother was holding out and starting to make his way up the stairs. He heard the tell her you made it from his mother and shook his head. He knew what she was thinking, especially with the way Chantal seemed to talk about you. His mother thought you were nothing short of perfect, and Matthew would be a liar if he didn’t think the same thing.

“Did I fall asleep here?” You’d woken up confused, your question only answered by the jerseys hanging on the walls, you were in Matthew’s room. You rub your eyes, the door creaking open way too loudly for how dead you felt.

“Only after you almost fell down the stairs and ran three blocks in the wrong direction,” Matthew chuckles, sitting on the edge of the bed and handing you the mug, “You know you’re fast right?”

“Yeah,” You muse, smirking to yourself and taking a sip of coffee, “I’m sorry I did that to you, and stole your bed - I can go.”

Matthew stopped you, telling to finish your coffee and relax and he’d drive you home after. You fell into a comfortable conversation, something Matthew never thought would happen.

And watching you walk up to your steps in his shirt still wasn’t something he thought he’d see, but it was better than he imagined.

***

“Hey it’s Jamie, can’t get to the phone right now…”

You groan, tossing your phone onto your bed and continuing your pace around the room. It was well after midnight, and your sister had been out all night, and past her curfew. Usually you’d cover for her, definitely taking the prize home for the cool older sister who picks her siblings and their friends up from parties. That’s what had you so worried. Sure, Jamie was a teenager and she snuck in a few little white lies with your parents just like you’d done, but Jamie always told you the truth. She’d check in with you more than her parents, letting you know that she’s going to be out late but she’s safe and if she needed anything she knew who to call. You texted sometime around ten, just checking in since it was Saturday and you were sure she had a more riveting social life than yourself. No answer. Then eleven rolled around and you didn’t hear anything, so naturally you double texted and now it’s twelve thirty and you still haven’t heard anything. You cross your arms, looking at your phone as if you could will an answer into existence. You grab it, dialing a number you weren’t even sure would work.

“Hello?” Matthew’s voice appeared on the other side of the line, clear confusion in his voice. You let out a sigh of relief, hoping Matthew would have the answer you wanted to hear so desperately.

“Is my sister at your house?” You ask, biting your lip and throwing on a pair of sweats so you could pick her up and murder her for scaring you like that. You were sure it was innocent, Jamie slept over at Taryn’s all the time, staying up way too late watching movies or when Jamie would hide going to a party from your much stricter parents.

Matthew tells you to give him a minute, and you can hear him walking through the house. By the time you heard a door open and a small fuck under his breath, your stomach dropped, “She was supposed to be home by midnight.”

“Alright, thanks anyways,” You sigh, “Do you know where they might have gone? It’s just, Jamie hasn’t answered me in hours and she usually does even if she’s out past curfew and I’m just-”

“I’ll be at your house in ten,” Matthew says, his keys alright in his hand and his foot halfway out the door. He was more mad than worried, sure his sister was out a party past curfew. Matthew was her biggest brother, and he was far more protective over her than Brady ever could be. He hated when she did this, and Matthew was pissed. You waited on your steps, Matthew car coming into view while you sprung up and practically sprinted into his car.

“You look mad,” You observe, as if it wasn’t completely obvious. You knew why, trying countless times to remind Taryn that her brother loves her and that’s why he’s like that. You thought he could go a little easier on her, but you wouldn’t dare get in the middle of that.

“I am mad,” Matthew grits out, knuckles white on his steering wheel while he drives slowly down the street. You just drove, in hopes you’d find what was obviously a house party and hopes your sisters were inside. You squint, hoping your eyes weren’t fooling you.

“Wait, pull over I think I see my neighbor,” You yell, Matthew’s foot flying on the break and you hop out. You were right, the bright orange tuft of hair you saw was like a miracle, “Hey Henry have you seen my sister?”

“Oh yeah I think she’s still inside,” Henry points to the house behind him, music blasting and a party in full swing, “I think she’s with Taryn.”

Matthew hops out of the car, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the house with him. Matthew’s fingers were laced with yours with every step he took, weaving through the crowd in hopes you’d see them. It took three bedrooms and a laundry room until you finally saw Taryn standing in the doorway. Her eyes went wide, and you pushed past them both to see Jamie with her head in the toilet. She was fine, well she was definitely in deep shit, but it wasn’t the worst thing to stumble upon. You throw her hair up, your attention moving to Matthew yelling at his sister in the hallway.

“Why didn’t you call someone,” Matthew yells, trying so damn hard to not completely snap on his baby sister. Taryn yells that her phone had died and then Jamie got sick and she didn’t know what to do. Of course they didn’t. You were probably more sympathetic, and you knew just how pissed off Matthew could get. You get up, pushing Taryn back into the bathroom and telling her to watch your sister.

“Calm down before you talk to her, please,” You plead, grabbing Matthew’s shoulders, “Besides, I sort of need some help right now.”

There it was. The very moment Matthew realized all along you could’ve been helping him. Your hands were wrapped around his biceps, a finger gently rubbing the skin right under the sleeve of his shirt. Every bit of anger disappeared from his body, a calm feeling replacing it. He knew you were right, and he’d be thankful for it later. Matthew knew he had to do the right thing by you, and he nodded, willing to follow any directions you gave him.

Matthew carried Jamie out of the house, getting both of your sisters in the car and finally heading back to your house. You knew he was still pissed off, a present frown on his face so you just took the chance. Just like he’d done before for you, you grabbed one of his hands from his steering wheel, lacing your fingers together. You caught the smile on his face, your thumb rubbing over his hand while his shoulders seemed to just relax. Once

Matthew finally helped you get Jamie inside, a night of laying on her floor to make sure she was okay ahead of you stood in the doorway with Matthew across from you.

“Thank you, I know we’re working on this friendship thing but you really didn’t have to do that,” You were eternally grateful, wrapping your arms around Matthew’s waist and tucking your head into his chest.

“You’d do the same thing for Taryn,” Matthew hums, knowing full well he definitely owed you for being Taryn’s replacement sibling with him and Brady in Canada for most of the year, “Get some rest okay?”

“Wait,” You stop Matthew, grabbing his hand one more time, “Don’t kill your sister, please she’s just a kid-”

“You’re way too easy on them,” Matthew chuckles, shaking his head at you. He knew Taryn was probably scared, and after he calmed a bit he understood where you were coming from. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to tell her that if she ever pulls that shit again - he was going to rat her out to their parents.

And when Matthew finally got back in the car, he could see his sister’s grin in the backseat, “Don’t say it.”

She held your hand, are you sure you’re not going to malfunction now?

***

Maybe you were spiraling.

You’d been waiting for this moment your entire life, now you had a few more weeks until camp started and you were afraid. You knew you were good enough, you had to be. But what if you weren’t? You could feel the anxiety settling in, a feeling you hadn’t felt since Matthew told you soccer wasn’t a real sport in fourth grace. It’d been eating at you for weeks, deteriorating any confidence you had left in yourself. So you started pushing yourself even harder. The harder you worked the less like you were to fuck it all up. Your muscles were sore, your body was tired and it was just all becoming too much.

And Matthew noticed.

You were pushing yourself too hard, even the time you were supposed to relax with your families before your seasons started was being spent training. He understood it, the term first round exit lived rent free in his head every single time his skate hit the ice over the summer, but that didn’t make it okay. You looked tired, sluggish while you moved because you were running twice a day and training in between. And he was pissed everyone seemed to be fine with it. You should start working harder then Matthew. If it bothers you so much maybe you could join her. It wasn’t that he was jealous of your work ethic, he was worried. Matthew’s eyes followed you as you ran past his house again. The third time in one day, he’d finally decided he had enough.

Matthew took the walk to your house, charming the pants off your mother for her to tell him you were upstairs because you just got back in. He knocks twice, hearing a come in from the other side.

“What are you doing here?” You question, rolling one of your ankles that just seemed to be getting more swollen every time you started to practice. Matthew noticed it, your hands freezing one you caught his gaze.

“You’re overworking yourself,” Matthew stands his ground, he knew you could have told him to fuck off because no one hates advice they didn’t ask for quite like him, “Don’t tell me I’m wrong.”

“That’s rich coming from the kid who’s played with more broken bones than anyone I know,” You remind him of a few mistakes Matthew’s made playing through injuries he really shouldn’t, “I’m not fucking frail.”

“That’s not what this is about,” Matthew scoffs, it never once crossed his mind that he thought he was tough enough to play through injuries but you weren’t, “It’s about taking a break so you don’t get hurt.”

“I’m fine,” You huff, getting up and trying your best to hide the pain in your ankle when you stood on it. You fell forward, Matthew catching you in his arms and putting you back down the edge of your bed.

“Tell me what’s wrong?” Matthew asks with soft eyes, he bent down to take your ankle in his hand and inspect it the best he could. It was swelling, probably from the amount of pressure you’d been putting on your body with no breaks.

“What if I never score a goal?” You whisper, teary eyes finally meeting Matthew’s. His brows shot up, alarmed at how one of the best athletes he’s ever seen could feel the same way he felt right before his first NHL game. Matthew sits down next to you, hand on your thigh while you let out a cry, “What if I’m just a bust? Like I get there and nothing works and I suck.”

“You’ll score eventually,” Matthew scoffs, understanding how ridiculous you sounded but just how you felt at the same time, “Everyone does.”

“You scored like four games into your fucking career Matt,” You remind him, Matthew smiling a bit that you knew that to begin with. It would have been impossible not to know, or pretend like you didn’t keep a few tabs on his career. Matthew Tkachuk was a legend in the making, and whether or not you could feel butterflies in your stomach every time he dropped the gloves was a secret you’d take to the grave.

“I got suspended my first season too,” Matthew jokes, a teary eyed laugh escaping your lips, “I’d put down money you score in your first game.”

“Well good thing you have money to lose,” You sigh dramatically, the fear of fucking up still on your mind.

“You’ll find your groove, all legends do,” Matthew promises, throwing his arm around your shoulders. You snuggled into his side, a realization that he was becoming a comforting presence in your life with each passing day, “And if you don’t, you can always hide out in Canada with me.”

“Matty!” The same silly nickname Matthew introduced himself to you on your very first day of kindergarten slipped through your lips without realizing it. Matthew hadn’t been called that in ages, but it was welcome from you. You push his chest, “That’s not making me feel any better.”

“What if I told you the only reason I was so mean to you was because I was intimidated by how talented you were?” Matthew confesses, scratching your head with his fingers, “If I win a cup one day I think I owe you one.”

Matthew didn’t mention that in his wildest fantasies of raising that cup over his head, you were there. He’d owe you one and he hoped it was because you were there for him until he got there. Matthew saw it the same way every time, you’d tell him to go see his parents first but he’d fly right past them to get to you - the person who accidentally pushed him to be his best. He had plenty of daydreams about you winning too, remembering times you used to brag you’d go to the Olympics one day, and he hoped you were right. He wanted to see you succeed, more than anything, and he thought it would work.

“Legally you have to let me drink out of it,” You muse, shutting your eyes and letting yourself just rest against Matthew.

“It has to be Bud Light,” Matthew teases while watching you fake a gag. You grab his outstretched hand, letting him pull you up. His hands rested on the side of your face, eyes flickering to your lips for just a second. He wanted to kiss you, but he knew he had to wait. Wait for you to be ready. Wait for you to settle down. Or even just wait until he thought he had a real shot at forever.

Forever with you.

***

Matthew was kind of pissed off.

The press didn’t bother him, none of that mattered and at the end of the day Matthew was able to sleep at night knowing he was a good teammate and a decent person most of the time. This one got him though, some writer criticizing the A on his jersey, and how someone who plays like he does didn’t deserve a letter.

A letter he earned.

You could tell something was off, the way Matthew had been running alongside you was aggressive to say the least. He insisted he came with you, something about forcing you to take breaks. He was being your friend, even though your sisters seemed to disagree. Taryn’s words were replaying in your head, Matt doesn’t even care if I get hurt. That didn’t mean anything, those two had no idea what love was and Matthew caring about you a little bit didn’t mean he loved you. Besides, the way he was acting right now told a completely different story.

“Are you mad at me?” You finally slow down, sitting on a rock that was next to the hiking trail you were on.

“No?” Matthew stops dead in his tracks, his heart sinking to the pit of his stomach that he fucked this up too, “I’m fine, don’t worry about it.”

“No, tell me what’s wrong,” You push, crossing your arms and narrowing your eyes at Matthew. You could tell he was pressed about something, his neck covered in a red flush the same way it used to.

“Some stupid article about my letter, don’t worry about it,” Matthew grits, repeating his words again. His defense was up, even after you confessed to him that you were scared of not being enough.

“Get the fuck out of here with the tough guy act Matthew,” You challenge him, poking him right in the chest, “If we’re going to be friends you need to cut that shit out.”

“You really want to hear it?” Matthew barks back, fully yelling at you, “I’m tired of people thinking I don’t deserve things because I threw a few bad hits. Do you know how it feels to have everyone think you’re shitty? No you don’t, because you’re so fucking perfect that my own parents like you more than me.”

You stood there, silent while you tried to figure out how to tell him that simply wasn’t true. His entire body was shaking, the anger coursing through his veins like you’d seen many times before that. Matthew looked like he did the first time you hit a homerun in gym class, except this time it was because that same pressure never got released. You couldn’t come close to understanding the way he probably felt. You didn’t have the comparables in your own family, the constant reminders of Brady’s points tally compared to his, let alone the career his father had.

“Matty,” You whisper, grabbing his hand and running your fingers over the scars on his knuckles, “Why is this bothering you so much?”

You were sure this wasn’t the first time someone’s said he was a pest, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be the last. Matthew sighed, the better part of his brain screaming at him to stop before he lost you too.

“I’ve felt like this forever,” Matthew whispers, eyes fixated on your hand in his, “From the moment I started getting bigger, there’s just been this pressure to play a certain way and act a certain way. I was a fucking kid, and while all of my friends got to go wherever they wanted all I ever did was practice. Then I finally get to where I wanted and I’m still getting shit on.”

“Except no one thinks you don’t deserve to be where you are,” You whisper, quiet words as if you were going to startle him, “And I know it doesn’t make up for things people say, but the people who love you think you deserve it.”

Matthew nods, pulling you into his arms and holding you close. Your arms wrapped around his waist, his words mumbled against your forehead, “I needed that.”

“I know,” You nod, smiling wide up at him, “And we need to practice more because you’re too slow, soooo catch me if you can!”

You slipped out of his arms, running away with a giggle and a smile. Matthew stopped for a second, his Neanderthal brain checking out your ass while you jogged away and his more logical one trying to process what just happened.

But what mattered most was that whatever you did worked and that meant something to Matthew.

***

Just admit you think he’s hot.

You wanted to kill your sister for making this weekend harder than it had to be. You were doing a good job at just friends with Matthew until Jamie was curled up in your bed while you packed for a lake trip with your friends. She pushed it for hours, rambling on about Matthew is actually your type and Taryn swears he’d be a good boyfriend if someone just understood him. The problem was, you were starting to see her point. Matthew had a glow up a few years ago, like one summer he’d gotten home and you were infatuated with him. It used to annoy you, because he’d been such an ass to you that you hated how attractive he was. Then things changed, and now looking at him was just frustrating you. You were terrified about the way he made you feel, like everything would be okay with one look of those blue eyes and a smirk. You felt like he had your back, a vast change from how you used to feel and it was just getting hard to hide it anymore.

Especially when Matthew looked like he did right now. He was holding himself up on the dock, shoulders broad and glistening in the moonlight above you. All your friends were inside, moving their party away from the water as the night lingered on. You wanted to run your fingers through his wet curls, the temptation was almost too much.

“I’ll be in Chicago a few times you know,” Matthew hums, enjoying the time alone he was getting with you. Anytime without Brady teasing him about what the Tkachuk’s had been referring to as the hand holding incident. He didn’t want them to think he didn’t want you, because he did, but he just needed to move at his own pace.

“You want to come see me play?” You ask, leaning back on the palms of your hands. You were surprised by the kind of man Matthew had become, it was a completely different person that he used to be. He cared so much about his loved ones, and you were starting to feel like maybe you had a place there.

“Actually thinking you could come see me play,” Matthew teases, sarcasm dripping from his words. You lifted your foot up, kicking some of the water below you to splash him, but he’d caught your ankle before you could. He stopped for a moment, running a thumb over your skin, “This looks better.”

“Don’t make you admit you were right,” You whine, Matthew swiftly pulling you into the water with him. You yelp, the water way too cold for any normal person, “It’s freezing.”

“C’mere then,” Matthew grabs your waist, pulling your body against his. His hands were splayed across your back, heat radiating off of them. One of your hands was on his shoulder, your other on his chest. You could feel his heart beating quickly, his eyes locked on yours, “Middle school Matthew would be so jealous of me right now.”

“Why’s that?” You hum, running your fingers along Matthew to play connect the dots with the beauty marks on his skin.

“Because he had the biggest crush on you,” Matthew confesses, his grip on you a little tighter, as if he was afraid you’d slip right through his fingers again, “But he was too thick headed to do anything about it.”

“What about grown up Matthew?” You ask, biting your lip. Matthew was practically holding you both up in the water, pressed so close together you could hear the hitch in his breath at your question, “Is he too thick headed to do something too?”

You wrapped your legs around Matthew’s waist, pressing your lips to his and tugging on the curls at the base of his neck. He pushed you up against the dock, helping you back up and pulling himself up next to you. You grabbed the back of his neck, latching your lips back on his. His hand was on your back, fingers toying with the back of your bathing suit, “Think we can get upstairs without anyone noticing?”

Matthew was cool most of the time. He never faltered under the pressure from his career, most of the time, and he definitely didn’t fold when it came to a pretty girl. You had him in the palm of your hand, every part of his brain malfunctioning in response to your words. You bit your lip, wondering if you’d read this entire situation. Matthew rubs a thumb along your lip, “When are you going to realize I’d do whatever you asked me to?”

The two of you snuck up the stairs, giggles and stolen kisses left in your wake. You open the door, Matthew’s hands still toying your bathing suit top, “Just take it off already Matty.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice,” Matthew breathes, his lips pressed against your neck while the garment falls to the floor, “So fucking beautiful.”

You back hit the mattress, Matthew’s hands running up your body slowly. Slow wasn’t in Matthew’s vocabulary, but he was taking his time just in case he never got this opportunity again. His fingers hooked under your bathing suit bottoms, sliding the wet fabric down your legs. You looked so beautiful, spread out just for Matthew like he’d dreamed about numerous times. His lips moved down to your breasts, teeth grazing against your skin while his tongue swirled against your nipple. You let out a breathy moan, Matthew’s ego boosting from the sound. You plucked at his curls while his mouth moved down to where you were craving him most, a gentle kiss to your clit, “Matty, please.”

“I didn’t peg you for the type to beg,” Matthew hums, pressing feather light kisses around your core. He stopped, gripping your thighs and looking up at you, “You sure about this?”

“Yes, please,” You whine, pussy dripping from Matthew’s hot breath fanning over it. Matthew chuckles darkly, fingers digging into your thighs when he flicked his tongue over your clit. You moan, completely unbothered by the blaring music a floor below you. Matthew didn’t seem to be bothered either, his tongue teasing your entrance while his nose rubbed against your clit, living for the way you were whimpering above him, “Matty-”

“Close baby?” Matthew groans, slipping a finger inside of you and curling it. You back arched, his name falling through your lips was enough to answer his question. Your legs shook, pleasure washing over your body from Matthew and all of it just felt so right. Matthew’s lips were latched to your skin until he finally met your eyes again. He smiles softly, nudging his nose with yours while you caught your breath, “So good for me.”

“Should’ve known you were that good with your mouth with the way you run it,” You tease smiling against his lips.

“Not with you, not anymore,” Matthew promises, soft blue eyes looking into yours, he meant it. He didn’t know how else to make it clearer, he wanted you. You kissed him slowly, hands trailing down his abs and stopping where his shorts hit his waist. Matthew kicks off his swim trunks, cock springing free. You grab the back of his neck, pulling your lips to his and rolling over top of him and straddling his waist. It was criminal how good you looked on top of him, “Gonna ride me babe?”

You nod, lining his dick up your core and lowering yourself on top of him. You let out a whine, Matthew’s smug smile on full display once he realized it was because of how big he was, “We don’t have to if my dick’s too big.”

“Oh shut up,” You roll your hips, watching the way Matthew’s head fell back, smirking because he really thought he had control here. Matthew’s hands gripped your waist, moving your hips faster. His finger flicked over your clit, causing you to lunge forward on top of him. Matthew flipped you over, wrapping a leg around his waist so he could hit your g-spot. Your hands gripped his shoulders, nails leaving scratches Matthew was going to wear pride later. You were seeing stars, noises leaving your throat you’d never even heard yourself make, “Fuck, Matty, I’m gonna cum again.”

“Look at me,” Matthew grabs your chin, pressing his forehead against yours and watching while your eyes roll back with pleasure. Your pussy clenched around him, his own cum spilling into you from the sensation, a loud groan following. Matthew pressed a kiss to your forehead, his cock still buried inside of you, “I wasn’t bullshitting you, I mean every word Y/N.”

“Matthew,” You whisper, running a finger along his back, “The distance…”

You didn’t mention everything, the way that if this was real it meant it would end up ripping you both apart. You were set to live in a different city, Matthew all the way in another country. The way your dreams included a spot on the U.S. National team, and the idea that wanting to be with Matthew would hold you back was terrifying. The way his dreams probably meant staying in Calgary forever, a C on his jersey and a cup over his head. It wasn’t going to be easy, you weren’t ever going to be the doting girlfriend he probably needed. There would be years of travel schedules and games that overlapped, and a part of you thought that maybe Matthew wouldn’t be able to do it. You’d get a year in and he’d find someone who would be there more and finally you’d end it.

“We can make it work, baby I want you, I always have and I probably always will,” Matthew starts, baring his soul to another person for the first time in his goddamn life, “I want to support your dreams and have you be there for mine. I’m all in here, I don’t know how else to tell you.”

“Can I have some time?” You plead, holding onto Matthew’s shoulders because you knew he could leave and tell you to never speak to him again. Matthew sighs, understanding the way you were shitting yourself about starting your own professional career, remembering the way rookie Matthew would have died before he considered settling down that first year, “Please don’t leave me-”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Matthew promises, rolling over and letting your rest on his chest, “I’ll wait for you.”

You smile, snuggling closer to him. Matthew didn’t sleep a minute that night, running every single scenario that could possibly happen with the two of you. Matthew was sure it would work out, it had to, because if it didn’t he wasn’t sure he’d be able to recover.

So now all he could was wait.

***

You know this is creepy right?

Matthew stares at Sam, punching his teammate in the arm lightly and telling him to shut up. He had a night off in Chicago, and after four straight hours of staring at your contact in his phone, Matthew finally just bought the tickets. He’d been good at keeping his distance, you needed space and he respected you enough to try and give it to you. He wasn’t doing so hot, Matthew consuming more soccer games than hockey games at this point. It started with your first game, because how was he supposed to just pretend like it wasn’t happening? You scored too, and it took everything in his power not to call you to tell you that not only was he right, he was insanely proud of you.

And he’d been hearing it from everyone. Your sister thought it was bullshit, Taryn and Jamie almost had Matthew on a flight to Chicago ready to show up like a terrible Lifetime movie. Brady thought it was hilarious the way Matthew was simping like this for one girl. Now, his teammates were on him, wondering why on Earth their friend who historically ran through women faster than he did mouthguards could be this hung up on someone he had a crush on in middle school.

“What number is she?” Sam asks, sipping the beer he forced Matthew to buy after making him go along with this.

“Nineteen,” Matthew smiles, pointing down at you on the field. You looked so happy, warming up with one of your teammates and a bright smile on your face. It seemed like a good fit, your team and your new city, and it made Matthew’s heart grow four sizes.

“Did she choose your number?” Sam jokes and Matthew mumbles something under his breath, “What?”

“It was her number first,” Matthew admits, not wanting to ever confess to another soul that you crossed his mind when he kept that camp number. Sam howled next to him, leaning over his seat and cracking up at his teammate.

You looked out in the crowd about halfway through the game, rubbing your eyes to make sure you weren’t seeing things. That tuft of curls was hard to miss, not to mention you knew just how big Matthew was. He was far too into the game to realize you caught him, up in arms about a call against your team that was valid but he’d argue it wasn’t. You asked for space, and it was getting harder to stick to your guns. Especially when he was making it so clear that he wanted this.

And whether or not you went to his game the next night, was a secret you’d take to the grave.

***

You were so close you could have tasted it.

While the final seconds of your season came to a close, all you could do was hold your head in your hands and hope no one caught the tears. A semi-final loss was devastating, but a semi-final loss where there wasn’t anything you could have done differently was even worse. Every athlete had off nights, a point Keith pushed right before you left to start your season, and he was right. Unfortunately, that was this game. Your biggest fear had come true and there was nothing you could do about it now. The game was over and you weren’t moving on.

And Matthew watched it.

Matthew promised you space, and he swore he’d give you the time you needed to settle down. But, this was something he couldn’t ignore. He could tell you were off, your entire rookie season was almost perfect and watching the way you folded during this game was gut wrenching. Matthew knew better than anyone, losing sucked. So he took the chance, grabbing his phone and shooting you a text he’d been waiting to send.

Doors open in Calgary.

and I’m so fucking proud of you.

It was the very last text you saw before you went to bed that night, tossing and turning for a few hours thinking about that loss. You couldn’t stop, every bone in your body was aching and you didn’t know what to do. So you bought a flight, packed your shit and was walking down the hallway to Matthew’s apartment without a second thought. You’d left him on read, calling Brady in the middle of the night and asking for his address, who gave it to you reluctantly with a reminder that if you needed to see him this badly you should rethink the needing time thing.

Matthew let out a groan when he had a bang at his door at three in the morning. Noah definitely was trying to walk into the wrong apartment again, and Matthew was grouchy when he whipped his door open. Except it wasn’t Noah after he’d had too many. It was you, teary eyed with your shit in a suitcase and a broken heart.

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” You admit, whispering something you never thought you’d say to anyone, “I just didn’t do enough-”

Matthew didn’t say a word, pulling you into a bone crushing hug and holding you as tightly as he could. You didn’t need to hear it from him, about how things were out of your control and you did your best. You didn’t want that right now, you wanted him, “Baby…”

“Everything hurts,” You whimper, finally just letting it all out. You were bruised and battered from the season, the physical pain alone was enough to upset you, let alone the loss you just took. Matthew carded his fingers through your hair, letting you soak his bare chest with your tears because he wouldn’t have it any other way. You came back to him. You came back to him when things got too tough because you trusted him to bring you some peace, and he was happy about it.

You passed out sometime after that, your tears finally running dry and the exchaustion taking over your body. Matthew woke up early the next day, grateful for the optional morning skate so he could stay with you for just a little bit longer. The sun was just starting to peek through the curtains in his room, a calm snowy morning in Calgary so the city was just a bit quieter.

Matthew settled on breakfast, working away in his kitchen with the only thing he knew how to make. Tell her you made it, his mom’s words from just a few months prior in his head while he cooked. You padded out his bedroom, one of Matthew’s god awful beer shirts hanging from your frame while you wrapped your arms around his waist and pressed a kiss into his back, “It’s cold here.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Matthew hums, internally pumping his fist when he felt your lips form a smile against his skin. You turned your head, pressing your cheek against his against and letting out a laugh, “What’s so funny?”

“You framed my jersey?” You ask, your eye catching a jersey that was way too familiar. It was hung up beside Matthew’s from his first all star game, both number nineteens staring back at you.

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re my favorite player,” Matthew hums, a blush covering his cheeks, “I’m so proud of you.”

“You keep saying that,” Matthew finally turns around, pressing a quick peck to your lips.

“I’ll keep saying it long after we both retire,” Matthew speaks, words clear and sure because he’s had plenty of time to practice this one, “I’ll say it when you win a World Cup gold, I’ll say it when we have kids, I’ll say when you play at the Olympics. I’m going to say it over and over again.”

“But…” You trail off, all of those same demons you’d been fighting when it came to your whatever this was with Matthew, “What I’m not around enough for you?”

Matthew knew what you were thinking about, he’d thought about it plenty too. There were countless sleepless nights where all he did was wonder if you’d find someone in Chicago who could support you better than he could. He’d do his best, he swore he would, but in order for you to be happy, your passion came first. There was always going to be times when he couldn’t be there and it killed him.

“You’re more than enough,” Matthew promises, his lips ghosting over yours, “I want you to seize every opportunity in the world, I just want to be there to tell you that I love you and use the goat emoji on Instagram when you do.”

You let out a laugh, Matthew’s smile wide enough to see his dimples you loved so much, “I think I want to stay a little while.”

“I think you should,” Matthew agrees, capturing your lips in his, “Besides I’m playing tonight and I think I need to show off now.”

“You’re a cocky asshole.”

“But now I’m your cocky asshole.”

***

One year Later

You had a good reason to be late.

You swore Matthew couldn’t possibly be mad at you for this one. You’d missed your flight to Calgary, a few days post a second loss in the semi finals that you’d been taking much better this time around. Mainly because Matthew wasn’t there, but his stupid smile and words of encouragement where there on facetime hours later. That wasn’t the reason you were late, the reason you were late was because you’d received the most insane news of your life and it was an important phone or that flight. You’d caught the next one, legs shaking not to just call him and share the news, but you needed to tell him in person.

You’d finally gotten by the doors to the locker room entrance, out of breath from spriting there from your cab. There was Matthew, tapping his phone and staring at the clock on his phone with furrowed eyebrows. He was still in his suit, tie pulled a little looser, a nervous habit you realized he had some time ago, “Matty-”

“Don’t call me that just because you know you’re late,” Matthew huffs, already ready for the pout that would have followed so he’d forget all about the fact that you promised you’d make it on time. He holds his hand out, waiting for the handshake he made up in the car on the way to the first game you went to after he finally locked it down. You laugh, slapping your hand against his and letting him pull you closer for a kiss.

“They want me on the National Team,” You mumble against his lips, the words spilling out of your mouth when you pull away with an excited smile. Matthew stood there stunned, while you shuffled your feet in the little dance you did when you were really happy. He grabs your cheeks, pressing kisses to your lips again and again.

“We’re celebrating after this, holy shit,” Matthew cheers, still stunned by your news, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, now go score a few goals so we have even more to celebrate,” You kiss him one more time, pushing him before the door before he was late.

“Anything I do seems unimportant now!” Matthew calls out, a light laugh to his voice as he watched you walk away to go sit in the stands.

And that’s how Matthew thought it should be.

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #my writing #nhl imagine #nhl imagines

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sugiwa · 3 years ago

Text

small dreams

It took one 27 second long video for Keigo to fall in love

The video looped through every news cycle, and each reaction varied from outright derision to almost mythical awe emerging. On YouTube, it was viral in fifty-three different countries and Starburst—a name derived from a candy company that the pro-hero was fond of—jokingly tweeted that she was more famous than All-Might.

And she might have been thanks to the reporter that not only caught her decking the father of a girl she just saved but also recorded the subsequent twenty-seven seconds it took for three police officers to pull her off him and pull her away. The peace sign Y/N threw up as the police led her into a car probably didn’t help, nor did the live stream of her twenty-four hours in a holding cell while they investigated her claim of the man’s abuse and finally released her.

Though there were news outlets that tried to pin Starburst down as a hero on the edge of villainy, her public reputation hadn’t taken any damage. It was hard, after all, to claim that she did the wrong thing when they heard the girl’s testimony and pulled her medical records. But, Starburst—or L/N Y/N—still faced punishment from the Hero Public Safety Commission despite all this.

Attacking an unarmed civilian was apparently a big no-no—even if he was an abusive asshole. She was spared having her license revoked until she retested the simple principle that she had refrained from using her quirk. Her sentence was lessened to a month-long suspension with a strict patrol schedule in some city near Tokyo.

Y/N could work with it. She could put up with the Commission’s inane chatter for the sake of her job, but she drew the line at issuing an apology. It took three hours to wiggle her way out of a press conference to address the event. By the time her meeting with the Commission and sentencing was done, Y/N retweeted the initial video with the caption: Totally worth it.

Keigo was slightly in love with Starburst. Maybe it was the way she strolled into the Hero Public Safety Commission building fresh out of handcuffs and bluntly told them that she wasn’t apologizing and would rather become a vigilante than listen to ten more minutes of them debating the future of her career.

Or maybe it was the video which he’d seen a hundred times over, where she looked like a hero. The kind he’d always dreamed of as a kid, the kind who swooped in and beat the bad guy and then offered you stickers and candy and told you everything would be alright because it was exactly what she’d done for that little girl.

Either way, L/N Y/N was a hero who deserved a little rest, which was why he was currently tailing her patrol route and taking care of the problems before she could move. Her quirk was right out of a comic book too. The golden energy that left her capable of issuing an instant KO.

“Will you leave me alone?” she snapped, finally turning around to glare at him. She had a warm face, not made for anger which was probably why the glare fell away a moment later, replaced by a smile. “I appreciate the help, but I’m not offering any fanservice in exchange.”

“Who said I was a fan?” His wings flapped, feathers flying back toward him.

“You regularly stalk girls mid-air? That sort of thing does not fly with me.” Y/N laughed, nose scrunching at her own joke. “Get it…cause we both fly….”

He smiled innocently, “Thought of that all on your own?”

Y/N groaned, twisting her earring, “Just because I didn’t go to a fancy-ass hero school like Wet Jeanist and Flameo Hotman doesn’t mean I’m dumb.”

Slight insulted by the nickname she gave his favorite hero, he asked, “Flameo Hotman? You mean Endeavor-san?”

“Ohhh, that’s a man-crush voice.” Her eyes tightened with mischief, “I’m gonna have to dip since I got a hot date with my credit card. See you later, Chicken Little.”

He watched her go in slight awe because Y/N really was as crazy as the stories said. Starburst was a hero that had a bit of a cult following. She wasn’t high enough in the rankings to be wildly popular the way he was—up until she went viral, that was. A graduate of Ketsubutsu who went on to attend college before actually becoming a hero, she was on a watch list with the Hero Public Safety Commission.

Apparently, non-conformity was an issue…who knew.

A rain of confetti fell over Keigo’s head, brightly colored and all covered in specks of glitter. He inhaled deeply, turning to see Starburst’s grinning face as she eagerly clapped. Endeavor, like always whenever he was forced to be in Starburst’s proximity, turned around and stalked down the hall. Her confetti burned in his wake. Y/N’s voice followed him, offering an empty congratulations to the hero.

“How’s my precious senpai doing?” she asked, turning her attention to him.

“You really know how to annoy him, huh?” asked Keigo staring at the empty hall. If you gave Y/N too much attention, she ran with it. “What’s the deal?”

Y/N shrugged, rolling her shoulders confidently, “Some people are not equipped to handle true talent.”

“Yeah, right,” snorted Keigo.

“I may or may not have drunkenly confessed that I had no idea who he was to a bunch of reporters during last week.” Y/N made a rude gesture with her hand. “I mean, if you’re not Number One, then do you really matter?”

“Harsh,” he ruffled his wings, freeing the last of her glitter confetti and letting it rain on the ground. “You all good with the Commission now?”

“All thanks to you! I owe you one, you know that?”

“Nah,” Keigo waved her off, resisting the urge to laugh as she made her bright eyes as wide as possible. “It was pretty brave of you. Plus, I think anyone would have done the same thing.”

Three months out of trouble, Y/N once again made headlines for ‘accidentally’ dropping a child trafficker off a building. She caught him before he hit the ground, but apparently, the authorities deemed the emotional damage a little extreme.

“They probably would have been a bit smarter about it, though.”

“Well, don’t worry, no one expects you to be the brains.”

Y/N pouted. “True.”

Keigo laughed. “What are you doing here anyway? You’re not in the top ten.”

“Is bullying the new rage these days?” Her pout grew, arms crossing over her chest, “Everyone’s got something snippy to say to me. Where’s Rumi when I need her?”

“Gonna hide behind her?”

“Fuck yeah.” Y/N nodded emphatically as she reached into her pocket for a pack of gum. She offered him a piece. “Let’s see how your chicken wings stand against her legs.”

Keigo looked at the gum and then her. The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them, “Wanna get something to eat?”

Her smile looked like the sun, “Thought you’d never ask.”

“So, what’s the deal with you and Dragonbreath?” asked Y/N, sprawling across his couch. It was the third time this week she was here. He should tell her to leave, but the words die in his throat in his mouth every time he tried.

There’s too much risk. Dabi’s listening in on everything he does these days, and he doesn’t want her anywhere near them. Not when he’s aware of what they’re planning. Not when he knows how Y/N would react.

She was rough and improper in everything she does, but there’s no one brighter or better when it came to genuine goodness.

Keigo dodged the question with his own. “Endeavor again?”

“Ran into him last week and got yelled at for ten minutes for getting in his way. The guy was in my path, and I’m the one getting yelled at? Next time, I’m drop-kicking him off his skyscraper.” She kicked her leg in the air, reminding him that she was scarcely dressed.

Was this what having a girlfriend like? Constantly jumping between fondness and horniness? He wasn’t complaining.

He heard this threat a million times. “Still mad about the fact that he has one?”

“I’m a simple country girl. I’d be happy with a peach orchard and some chickens.”

“Come here,” he crooked his finger at her. Y/N got up instantly, crossing the room toward the balcony where he stood. Her hands wrapped around his waist, slipping under his shirt, across his skin, over his chest. Too much and too little at the same time.

“You’ll get cold out here,” she murmured. He could sink in the warmth she offered.

“It’s nice seeing the world so still.”

A noise left her throat, wet and worried, “Hawks, whatever it is, whatever they’re making you do, I’ll be here. I promise.”

People joked about Y/N being dumb—he did it too often to count, but she saw more than most people did when it mattered.

“Why’d you become a hero?”

“Saved a cute boy once, and he gave me a kiss,” she said. He’d heard that story before. She offered it in every interview, never expanding on what boy or how she saved him. It was also a glaring lie.

He didn’t push her. He lied about too many things to count.

Keigo took her face between his hands—the urge to kiss that tiny speck by her eyes thrummed through him. It would take a thousand-thousand years for him to forget her face. Y/N turned, her lips skimming his palm, cold and warm at once.

He loved her because she was Y/N. Because in her, he could love himself and not grow cold from it. Because the numbness he’d always known leaked out in place of affection. He loved her boundlessly—above, below, and across—unhindered, without ill will, without enmity.

It was with her that he was Takami Keigo and not the current Number Two.

His hand cupped her neck, fingers tangling in the curls of her hair. Her lips opened under his. A trail of fire burst across his lips, and for a moment, he only knew the sweetness of her mouth. He drank her in, each breath, each hushed sound leaving her throat.

He would do what they asked and make the choices no one else could.

It was worth the world he dreamed of.

#hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #hawks x y/n #tamaki Keigo x y/n #bnha x reader #mha x reader #takami keigo #bnha #mha #hawks #mha hawks

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fan-of-encouragement · 3 years ago

Text

Honey I'm Still Free

This is a commissioned fic that @danniburgh wrote for me, and I'm absolutely In Love. Her commissions are open as of posting this, and she's amazing.

Marcus Pike × F!reader

No warnings, just fluff and mention of Marcus's past bad relationships.

He was new.

A new face to know.

And he was cheerful; almost too cheerful.

He was happy; you met him as a happy man, self realized, self assured, self-centered but not egotistical; he was kind, and he was good. And he was happy.

Marcus Pike arrived at the D.C. FBI office and you were the one that gave him the welcome tour; in between directions and pointings at where which room was located and who worked where, he told you almost everything about himself and that kicked off an unexpected friendship. One that began inside the four walls of his office and the four walls of yours, and the glass walls of the shared conference room that separated them and that most often than not, was used as a lunch room.

When you met Marcus, he was a once divorced, newly engaged man that was waiting patiently for his bride to arrive and live with him what he described as a life he wanted; he told you everything he had to tell about his girlfriend and how he felt, deep inside of him, that she was the one.

Until she broke up with him.

Then, as if by magic, or as if someone had flicked a switch, Marcus changed.

You didn’t understand, whenever you analyzed it, why a woman would leave a man like him; whenever you put a little bit of thought on the matter you came to the same conclusion: there was no good reason. The truth of the matter was, even having met Marcus for no more than a month when that went down, that he was a good man. And everyone that walked around him or worked with him or even talked to him knew it.

Marcus Pike was a good man with a good, kind, warm soul that radiated nothing but care and love for others; he was stern and he was good at his job; he managed a team like no other agent you saw before but, at the end of the workday; when all the reports had been signed, when all the field agents had called in and Marcus lit his desk lamp to finish the last of the paperwork of the day, when the floor was quiet enough to hear the cars drive sporadically on the highway next to the building, he was craving for something more. Something he didn’t have and he was desperate for. Love.

Six months into you knowing Marcus, as he laughed at a bad joke you told him, with his head thrown back and his lids closed and the wrinkles on the sides of his eyes showing at full contrast, you realized you had fallen in love with him.

But you didn’t fight it; it felt right. You knew he was still struggling with the fact that two serious relationships in his life had failed in what he described as a miserable, sad, incredibly stupid manner.

The remnants of that pain were still noticeable; when he looked outside the window for more time that he wanted to admit, whenever he heard a certain song on the radio, whenever someone mentioned any lines from Casablanca, the glowing ashes of the hot, scorching pain he had yet to get rid of and extinguish could be seen from his eyes.

You knew and you understood him; he needed time; he needed support to get out of the house in flames he was inside of because of people that didn’t know what they wanted. And you, as he hugged you goodbye, resolved you were gonna be there for him.

As you drove home, you realized there was some selfishness behind your resolution; but you figured out as much. You were in love with him, and besides trying to help him be himself; as you had met him or better, you hoped, just further back in your mind and your heart, he would notice you were there. Waiting for him to be the man he wanted to be.

When you opened your front door and you slipped out of your shoes, you thought of how would he react if you told him you were falling in love with him; you knew he wouldn’t let you wait for him like a damsel expecting a brave prince or a knight in shiny armor galloping to you on a mighty stallion. But you weren’t dropping everything until he decided he was better… You were just hoping he would notice you were there. And that was rightfully enough reason for you to do it.

And you were his friend.

The next morning you texted him before going out to work if he was in the mood for some pancakes; immediately getting a big YES in all caps as a response. You drove to your favorite diner; which had quickly become his too. And walked out of there with two white plastic bags filled with pancakes for him and waffles for you.

“Oh my god, bless you!” Marcus let out as you walked into his office with the two big bags. You gave him a smile as he moved his stuff to the side so you could put the bags down.

“Since when are you devoted, Mr. Pike?” you teased, when you put the bags on the desk and pushed his towards the other side, towards him.

“Since my best friend brings me breakfast,” he raised his eyebrows and pulled out the styrofoam packet from the bag and a plastic fork “how much do I owe you?” Marcus asked as he opened the plate and bit his lower lip when the chocolate chip and strawberry pancakes saluted him from the dish.

“Nothing?” you replied, doing the same with your honey caramel waffles, Marcus rolled his eyes.

“Then lunch is on me.” he shrugged, lifting his tie and loosening it a bit from around his neck, throwing it on his shoulder, you scoffed and saw him dig into the pancakes with a small smile adorning your features.

“The least you could do, baby.” you teased, making him smile through his pancake bite.

When lunch hour arrived that same day; he knocked on your door and opened it before you could say come in. He stuck his head inside your office and smiled at you.

“Lunch?” he asked with his eyebrows raised and his small smirk on his face, you reciprocated his smile and nodded, standing up from your chair and closing your computer.

“What are we ordering?” you asked as you walked around your desk and he opened the door wide.

“No, we’re going out.” he let out lowly. You narrowed your eyes as you crossed the threshold and he started walking towards the elevators.

“To what do I owe this honor?” you asked, following him, Marcus chuckled.

“What do you mean?” he said as he clicked the elevator button to call it.

“You’ve never taken me out to lunch, Marcus.” you remarked, the elevator doors opened and he frowned.

“Really?” he questioned, you nodded and hummed in affirmation as the both of you walked into the metal box. “why?” he chuckled.

“What do you mean why?” you laughed at his reaction.

“I mean…” he started, crossing his arms on his chest “we’ve been close almost since I arrived, don’t we?” you nodded with a small smile on your face, Marcus blinked a few times “I feel like we would've gone out together, at least once…” he said with a shrug.

“No, not once.” you remarked again as the elevator door opened on the basement parking lot and you walked out.

“Well, that’s on me, then, I’m the asshole friend.” he let out as he nodded his chin in direction to his car, you chuckled.

“Not an asshole, a busy friend.” you tried to reassure him as he remotely unlocked the car and the both of you hopped inside at the same time.

“I shouldn’t be busy for you, anyway,” he muttered, pushing the ignition button to turn on the engine. “I mean, you’re the one that helps me the most around here, I should be more grateful.”

“Nah,” you whispered as you buckled your seatbelt “I’m just the coworker that doesn’t like to see others struggling.” you teased with a smile as he backed up the car, he looked at you for a split second and sighed, calling your name.

“You know you’re not just my coworker.” he muttered, getting out of the parking lot and incorporating into the traffic. Your smile grew.

“No?” you turned to see him, knowing exactly what he was going to say if you dropped the question that was dangling on your lips, he shook his head. “then what am I?” you asked with a low voice that you hadn’t use in a long time because you didn’t find the time or the place to use it. But, as you were sitting inside the car of the man you were growing deep feelings for, with the tiniest opening to his heart and his mind, you decided to bring it out again.

Marcus almost slammed the brakes of the car. He felt his breath hitch in his throat and as he stopped the car on a red light; he turned to you.

“What?” he whispered. You raised an eyebrow and shrugged slightly.

“What am I?” you repeated the question. Marcus knew the look you were giving him; god he was sure he wouldn’t get that look from anyone anymore, and he had sworn to himself that he wouldn’t look for that look in any woman he met. But there it was; your gaze was deep on him, your lips were loose and open just slightly towards him, your eyes were steady on his and he felt the despicable, gut wrenching feeling of the most deep, disgusting, ingrained insecurity inside his mind and inside his chest that made him think of nothing but his trained instinct of fight or fly.

“My friend.” he whispered out just as the light changed to green. You smiled to yourself and looked out through the window, letting out a sigh.

“Good,” you let out, “besties.” you teased. Marcus let out a nervous chuckle and nodded. He didn’t say another word until he stirred the car to the restaurant’s parking lot.

Marcus heard two consecutive knocks on his door and lifted his head from the massive email he was reading.

“Come in.” he let out on a sigh as he stretched on his chair, and rubbed his eyes; the light of the computer wasn’t helping his sight.

“Brought you coffee.” he heard you, he opened his eyes and saw you closing the door behind you with your hip and two carton cups that were steaming.

“My lifesaver.” he smiled at you and shifted on the chair, you sat in front of him and handed him his cup.

“Cream and no sugar,” you let out “so you don’t get sleepy.” he smiled.

“What’s the occasion?” he asked, you rolled your eyes.

“The occasion is ten thirty at night and you’re still here.” you said, Marcus sipped his coffee and raised his eyebrows.

“You’re here as well.” he shrugged.

“I just finished,” you let out “kinda was waiting for you.” Marcus frowned, you leaned down and rested your back on the chair.

“Why?” he let out, tensing his shoulders.

“Wanted to talk to you.” you muttered, gazing at him. Marcus wanted to shrink on the chair and flee from the room, but he didn’t, he stayed at his full height of 5’11” and tried to hold your gaze.

“Okay? something happened?” he asked with a low voice, you shook your head twice and saw him partially relax.

“Marcus, how long have we known each other?” you asked him, he frowned a bit but looked at the surface of his desk.

“Almost a year, why?” he replied and you hummed in appreciation at it.

“You know why, don’t you?” you said, biting your lip and smiling at him.

“I have a suspicion.” he muttered.

“Good, so should I just say it?” you asked, Marcus shook his head immediately.

“Please, don’t,” he whispered, you were expecting his reaction so you just nodded “I’m so sorry.”

“I understand,” you smiled again at him and Marcus felt his chest contract inside his torso “I was just… making sure.”

“Honey…” he let out, you shook your head.

“Really, I get it.” you winked at him, taking your coffee and standing up.

“Wait,” he stood up as well, “am I gonna lose you?” he asked, trying to reach to you, you raised your hand and he took it.

“Of course not, silly,” you gripped his hand “I’m gonna be around, just let me know if you need me.” you said, Marcus nodded and you slipped your hand off his.

Marcus saw you leave his office and let out a deep sigh once you had closed the door. He threw himself on his chair and dropped his head back to look at the ceiling. God, what was wrong with him?

He tried to reason with himself as he started to breathe normally; you were amazing. He was sure of it because he saw you almost every day. You were beautiful and attractive and funny. You were smart and so damn capable it made him feel beneath you even when you were at the same rank; you meant a lot to him and you, for some reason that didn’t fit inside his head, never hesitated to tell him how much he meant to you, too.

And it was so damn obvious how you felt about him because you didn’t even bother to hide it; he admired the way you just showed it without advertising it and how you just didn’t let it affect your job or your life.

Jesus Christ, you were in love with him and he was there, sitting in his office after you just told him you understood him; you’d stayed close to him despite him being trapped in his own insecurities, despite the barrier he had put between you and him, despite looking at him clutching at the past and wrapping himself around his tragedies like an orphan child would do to a warm blanket.

You were there for him, loving him and caring for him as best as you could, even when you knew he was processing and working to be out in the open again; even when you knew it took him time to comprehend that he shouldn’t feel embarrassed or sad anymore.

Holy shit; you were there all that time and he was just choosing to be blind to what you were doing; even choosing to shove away all the deep, warm, involving love he felt for you.

Marcus stood up from his chair once again and he rushed to walk around his desk and out of the office, walking the few feet there was between his office and yours, he knocked a few times and opened the door; about to burst out his words, then he noticed the office was empty. He checked his watch. It was ten minutes past eleven and he cursed himself for thinking you meant you were going to be around literally.

He rushed again to his office for his things and his car key, desperately trying to order words inside his brain as he all but banged his foot on the elevator floor and trying at the same time to calm the fuck down as he walked to his car.

Marcus was sure it was a good idea with poor execution; he was a romantic at heart he should go pick up something that would tell you he just took his head out of his own ass and realized he was also in love with you; but the feeling of just tell you everything was stronger and was driving him crazy. He was driving like a madman through the highway that led to your apartment, and when he pulled over and looked at the building, he nodded to himself.

“Just say it, Marcus.” he muttered to himself, opening the car door and walking out.

The easiest part was to walk to the front door, buzz himself in and walk up the stairs to the fourth floor; the easiest part was stepping through the hall and towards your door and knocking on it three times.

You opened the door and the easiest part was over; you were in your pajamas; a silk, shimmering top and shorts too short for Marcus’s own good.

“Marcus, what’s going on?” you asked. He cursed himself inside his head. He had forgotten each and every word of the three point argument he had built inside his head on the way to your home; he saw his thoughts pour over his head and melt at your feet and he did nothing else but stand there, in your threshold; with his mouth dry and his eyes on your body. “Marcus?”

You frowned and stepped to the side, grabbing his forearm to pull him inside. Marcus had been in your apartment before, but he knew then it was different.

“You okay? I’m getting worried” you muttered. Closing the door, Marcus shook his head and tried to steady his heartbeat, failing.

“You told me to let you know if I needed you, right?” he asked, barely audibly. You nodded. Marcus licked his lower lip and sighed, “I kinda need you now.”

“Yeah, absolutely, what happened?” you told him, stepping closer to him, raising your hand to his arm.

Marcus felt a bolt of confidence because of your touch. He breathed in deeply and smiled at you, making you frown again.

He put his hand hesitantly on your waist and he felt you stiffen. His eyes traveled from your eyes to your lips and back, and he stepped even closer to you with a smile on his face.

“You’re here.” he whispered, leaning towards you to grab your lips in his with a kiss you didn’t expect, but didn’t dare to deny.

#danni dearest #Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike x reader #Marcus Pike x you #pedro pascal x reader #commissioned fic #soft FBI art nerd husband

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not-me-simping-for-blasty · 4 years ago

Text

Wrong Number, Asshole - A Bakugou Katsuki Soulmate AU

All Parts

Part 18:

“That’s pretty much all I got from him,” You sighed, picking at your fingernails. “That he doesn’t want me to know because other people talk bad about him.”

“That’s...” Selene trailed off, seemingly just as lost for words as you were.

Your best friend was making tea for the both of you, bustling around her kitchen as you spoke. Truthfully, you were thankful she invited you over. You didn’t think you could process this information by yourself.

You’d been going back and forth over it all day, trying to decide whether or not it was your place to share what you knew with Selene. You wanted to keep sacred the trust Bakugou had in you, but on the other hand, the longer you thought about his words the more worried you became. Deliberating on it further wouldn’t help you, but maybe talking about it would?

Either way, you just decided to cut your losses. Maybe a stronger woman could’ve kept this too herself and been fine, but you simply weren’t her.

“Yeah. I know.” You responded, falling back against her couch, and slumping into the armrest. “I have no idea what to do with that. I mean, I’ve been thinking about it all day, and I can’t come up with any scenario that’s good.”

“Yeah. I can see that.” She nods, bringing your mug over to you.

“It’s just- I can only think of two reasons why that’d upset him so much, right?” You sip your tea. “One- he’s just being overly dramatic about it, but honestly, considering Bakugou’s reactions, that doesn’t seem to be the case. And two...”

You wrung your hands nervously. Selene only sat down next to you, a hand on your shoulder urging you to continue.

“Or h-he’s a bad guy. A really bad guy.” You spoke, suddenly sick to your stomach. “Like, a criminal or something. I mean, that’s the only way right? He said people talked about him, a lot, using his name, and then said I could look him up and find bad things, so that has to mean he’s like comitting crimes right? That he’s probably not good, and he’s got a record, because why else would anyone talk that badly about him, so much to the point where it’s synonymous with his name, if he didn’t do something horrific?”

You pulled your knees up to your chest, curling your arms protectively around them. Saying all of this out loud made you feel sick, but you truly couldn’t think of another explanation.

“Maybe...” Selene tried, but she seemed to be coming to your same conclusions as well. “Yeah. That’s- I can’t think of another reason either.”

“Yep.” You admitted defeatedly.

Silence fell over the room as you sipped from your mug. You tea was piping hot, nearly boiling, but it didn’t make you feel any warmer. You were cold, and you couldn’t stop your fingers from trembling.

You wanted to believe he was good, and you still sort of did from your personal interactions with Bakugou- But if looking up his name would show you a record of all his past actions, and if he was ashamed of them? Then how good could your soulmate really be?

It made you sick to think about. You’d wanted to save people and help them and do good your entire life- you didn’t think you’d be able to handle learning that your soulmate didn’t feel the same. That he hurt people instead.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Selene slug an arm around you, pulling you into her side. “Maybe- maybe it’s a misunderstanding, you know? Have you tried talking to him again about it?”

“No. Can’t.” You pull your phone from your back pocket, opening your messages to him. “Look what he sent me this morning.”

“He sent that at 5? In the morning?” Selene asks. “That’s.....”

“Suspicious.” You huffed, grabbing your phone from her and turning it off. “You don’t have to tell me. I know.”

“Y/n,” Selene lays her head on yours, squeezing you close to her. “I’m sorry. I-I know you were excited about him.”

“Yep. I was.” You wrap your arms tighter around yourself. “You know what’s even worse though?”

“What?”

“I-I think I meant it when I told him I’d like him anyway.” You confessed quietly. “Even if I did find out he was bad, I-I’m not sure I’d stop talking to him.”

Selene didn’t say anything, only pulling you even closer as you sniffled.

If thinking about Bakugou’s words made you feel sick, your own feelings made you downright nauseous. You truly didn’t think you’d be able to stop talking to him- you were already far too attached.

You couldn’t explain it either: why you already felt so, so, tied to him.

All you knew was you’d been waiting your entire life to be as happy as Bakugou made you. All you knew was that the sound of his voice made your heart jump and settle at the same time. All you knew is that your soul was finally being completed- and, selfishly, so, so, selfishly you weren’t sure you could ever give that up.

Selene leaned forward, grabbing her TV remote off the coffee table in front of you.

“Don’t. Please.” You sighed. “I love you, but I really don’t want to watch your trashy reality shows right now.”

“I’m not, I’m not, don’t worry,” She knocks her shoulders lightly into yours. “Just local news for background noise.”

You groaned.

“What?” She asked, looking at you a little strangely. “Did Bakugou give you a problem with the news now, too?”

“No, this- it’s not about him.” You rubbed at your eyes tiredly. “I still have that project remember? I usually watch the news for inspiration, so it just reminded me of it ‘sall.”

“Oh, okay. You want me to turn it off?”

“No, it’s fine- it’s already on.” You curled into yourself just a bit more, voice tired and depressed as you felt. “Might as well just watch the hero stuff just incase I suddenly, like, get divine inspiration or something.”

“Oh my- you make it sound like you’re doomed!” She nudged you playfully. “C’mon, Y/n we can watch it together. You never know, maybe both of our single brain cells can think of something.”

You just huffed a laugh, taking another sip of your tea and focusing on the TV.

On screen was another disaster scene, except this time in Jaku City. The city was decimated- buildings were turned sideways, smoke and fire were billowing, and loud explosions could be heard. There was another tar monster, but this time it was a lot larger than the one in Hosu. It was a black, twitching, fluid mass of poison that sucked up everything in it’s path, and seemed to be resistant to almost all attacks.

There were multiple heroes on the scene, but it was all the same top pros you’d been seeing for what felt like years now. You recognized Deku, Shoto, and Uravity all working together, attacking and regrouping in the fray. It didn’t seem like they were making any progress, though.

“Top pros have been working to stop the threat for hours now, but almost no progress has been made,” A reporter suddenly stepped into the frame, face visibly anxious. “They’ve been at it since early in the morning, but there has been virtually no change since they first infiltrated the hideout....”

You zoned out. You didn’t know who you were kidding, you couldn’t get anything done. Your brain just couldn’t seem to focus on anything but your soulmate.

—/—

Bakugou still hadn’t texted you, and it’d been three days. You’d check your phone almost constantly, hoping and praying for even a single buzz, but it never made a difference.

On the fourth day, you texted him.

You don’t know what made you send the last two texts. You couldn’t explain it, even to yourself- but something just felt wrong.

Bakugou hadn’t missed a single text from you since the very first day you contacted him. He might’ve been angry, and harsh, and volatile, but he was consistent. Even if he’d complain the entire time, he’d answer you, he always did. And if you didn’t contact him first, then he reached out to you. Either way, he was always around for you.

But not this time.

Days went by and your texts stayed unread. There was a pit in your stomach, one that was steadily growing by the hour, and by the end of that week you felt like you were gonna cry. Every second was spent worrying, you couldn’t focus, and your school work was suffering. Nothing seemed to make you feel better. You weren’t sure when you let him burrow so far into your heart, but he was there now, and there was no use denying it.

Your earlier questions about who he was, and whether or not he was good, seemed to fade entirely. You just wanted to hear his voice again. You just missed him. The ache you carried with you became a solid thing- sitting cold and heavy on top of a heart that had just learned how to be warm and weightless. You hurt, everywhere, and all you wanted was for him to be okay.

Your phone was never far away, in your hands or pocket every second of the day- even when you fell asleep. But it didn’t matter. You phone never rang no matter how much you willed it to.

-/---

lmao this is kinda short,, but the original draft was wAY too long so i had to split it ahaha

#mha bakugou #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugou imagine #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugou soulmate au #bakugou soulmate textfic #bnha fic #mha fic

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brrrritscoldinhere · 3 years ago

Text

Brief mention of sex (but nothing explicit), brief relationship abuse, a lot of cursing, and heavy angst (idk if i know how to write angst but :D)

“Sirius?”

Sirius looked up from the ground to find a certain werewolf with a frown on his face. The rest of his expression remained neutral, even his eyes. Classic Remus Lupin, never showed his true emotions. Always so blank.

“Mm?” Sirius murmured, not meeting the other boy’s eyes so he couldn’t see the turmoil in them.

“You look,” Remus started, pausing awkwardly and rubbing the back of his neck, “sad.”

Sirius, with as much effort as he could muster, forced a hopefully convincing smile onto his lips. “I’m not. Just tired. You know, with exams and all.”

Remus paused again before slowly saying, “Exams are three months away.” He raised an eyebrow. “Even the teachers haven’t started pestering us on revision yet.”

Sirius mentally slapped himself. “Well, uh, I’m revising a bunch myself. It’s tiring, you know?”

Remus didn’t say anything back, just stared at him with those emotionless eyes of his.

“Well, I, uh, have go get going now. James wants me to... hang out with him.” Sirius internally cringed at his lie. “See you, Moons.”

As Sirius turned away, Remus asked abruptly, “It’s not about your boyfriend, is it? What’s his name, Philipp?”

Sirius froze before turning back to face the werewolf, faux smile already forming across his face. “No, of course not! Why would you think that?”

Remus stared at him with narrowed eyes before turning and walking away.

The truth was, Philipp had been the first to approach Sirius. Blonde, tall and good looking, Sirius had taken to him immediately. They both seemed to have the same humour and interests, and were able to hold on conversations for hours on end. They were like a perfect match.

It wasn’t long before Sirius started catching feelings. He hadn’t really liked someone in years, only going for flings and one night stands. But Philipp, he’d thought, was different from the others. Philipp was the guy who understood him most, apart from his best friends.

Sirius had confessed and they started dating immediately. Philipp was always one to initiate touches, which Sirius warmly welcomed. But James, Peter and even Remus showed discomfort whenever they had kissed or brought their hands just a little too low for others’ eyes. It made Sirius a little annoyed.

“It’s not that we don’t like you being with him, you look happy,” James had said when Sirius confronted them about it. “It’s just that... we barely know Philipp. And it’s a little... awkward whenever you guys get a little... handy.”

Peter scoffed. “That’s to put it mildly. You two were nearly having sex in the common room while we were trying to study. You had half your shirt off, Sirius.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes as anger began to brew in his stomach. “Like you’re any better, Wormy, you and your girlfriend in the dorms—"

Peter glared at him. “Shut up.”

Sirius had felt a sick sense of satisfaction before Remus cut in. “You both shut your mouths. This isn’t going anywhere. Simplest solution to this? Keep it in your goddamn pants until you’re alone. If that’s too much, do a quickie in a fucking bathroom or something.”

Sirius let out a huff before rolling his eyes. “Fine. Whatever. I’m going to go find Philipp.”

Now, Sirius regretted ever having anything to do with his boyfriend.

As they days passed, Philipp grew more and more obsessed and possesive over Sirius, not letting the boy talk to anyone without him just beside the boy, and looking through any letters he got and delivered. It crossed the line when Philipp started sorting out through letters Sirius had gotten from his family. The argument ended in screams and insults thrown at each other, which caused Sirius to nearly cry. They made up with sex a few hours later, though.

Sirius realised that, the morning after when he had woken up with his boyfriend gone from the bed, Philipp had never apologised once.

It got to the breaking point when Philipp suggested he stopped talking to the Marauders while they were sitting on the grass outside.

“What?” Sirius nearly yelled, turning his head to Philipp. “What do you mean, stop talking to them? That’s utter fucking bullshit! They’re my goddamn friends, Phil, you can’t just tell me not to ghost them!”

Philipp narrowed his eyes. “Fine. It’s either me or them, Sirius. Choose between us.”

Sirius was frozen, thoughts muddled and in a whirlwind. Philipp or the Marauders? It was supposed to be an obvious choice, an easy one. But Sirius couldn’t decide. Why didnhe even have to decide? Why couldn’t he have both?

But Sirius shook his head, eyes narrowing. “No. They were here for me first. You can’t just expect me to abandon my friends because you want me to. Especially after all the shit you’ve done to me.”

“I was trying to protect you!” Philipp roared, making Sirius flinch back. “I wanted the best for you! Clearly your so-called friends want me out of the picture because they’re jealous of the time we spend together!”

Before Sirius could even open his mouth to speak, Philipp raised a hand, and the other boy flinched back horribly.

A hand caught Philipp’s a centimetre away from Sirius’ cheek.

“Well. I see that this date is going well?”

Sirius raised his head to find Remus holding back Philipp’s hand. He shoved the blonde boy back, standing in front of Sirius, as if guarding him.

“Listen mate, you’re not really in any position to hit my best friend,” Remus said impassively. “Either hands off of him from now on or I’m reporting you.”

Philipp laughed, a manic, crazy sound. “Please, I’m his boyfriend. Do you think I’ll listen to you? Do you think he’ll listen to you?”

Remus raised an eyebrow and faced Sirius. “Well? You want to stay with this crazy bastard then, Sirius?”

Sirius swallowed, glancing at Philipp and back to Remus, hesitating. However, the few seconds of silence seemed to make Remus understand. His expression turned icy, back straightening. He nodded.

“I’ll be taking my leave now.”

Remus started walking away, and Philipp hung an arm around Sirius’ shoulders. “Bitch. Called me a crazy bastard.”

Sirius shrugged off his arm and ran towards where Remus had disappeared into the castle, ignoring Philipp’s shouts of his name.

“Remus?” Sirius yelled when he entered the common room. He found the werewolf curled up in an armchair, holding a book.

His hands were shaking.

“Remus?” Sirius whispered, walking towards the werewolf timidly.

“I don’t know why you’re with him,” Remus said suddenly, voice sharp. “Do you not see what he’s doing to you? He’s fucking crazy! He’s obsessed with controlling you and he hates knowing that you’re hanging with other people, even though they’re all clearly your friends. He’s toxic as fuck, he makes you second guess yourself constantly. Don’t even try to deny it, I’ve seen it happen more times than I can count. He does things to your head, Sirius. He’s fucked up. Why can’t you just see that?”

Sirius kept quiet, tears brimming in his eyes as the truth was forcefully shoved into his face. He knew he had realised this long ago, but only now was he coming to terms with it. Only now was he accepting the truth. So fucking stupid.

“You deserve more than him,” Remus croaked, voice breaking. It shattered Sirius’ heart. “You deserve so much more. But you won’t let yourself have it.”

Sirius felt tears spill down his cheeks.

“And it fucking hurts to know that I’m not worth enough for you.”

Sirius snapped his head up to look at Remus, whose eyes were closed tightly, but tears still streamed down his face.

“Remus,” Sirius whispered, voice broken.

“I’m sorry,” Remus whispered, pained breaths hissing through his clenched teeth. “I knew he was bad for you— but you looked so happy. I didn’t want to take that away. I— I knew I had no right to say anything, because I’m no better than him. And when he started— started acting like an asshole, I didn’t want to say anything. You were already so mad at James and Peter for telling you to stop being so touchy with him in front of them, how would you react if I told you he was a toxic bitch? What if you hated me? What if you thought that I was trying to, I don’t know, break you two apart?”

“Remus, please,” Sirius whispered brokenly.

“He was your everything,” Remus muttered. “And I... I’m nothing to you.”

Sirius didn’t even think. He just ripped the book from Remus’ hands and pressed his lips against the werewolf’s, grief and sadness and overwhelming emotion fuelling the kiss.

It was a mess of feelings and tears, and the ever growing need to be nearer to each other. It was pure, raw, and nothing like they’d ever experienced in their lives.

They broke apart after a few seconds, staring into each other’s eyes before Remus pushed him off.

“Sirius, no,” Remus whispered, not looking at him. “No. I’m— no. This— we can’t happen.”

Sirius glared at him. “And tell me why. Why it can’t work. Because, Remus, I seem to fucking like you. And it seems you do too, judging from that kiss we just had.”

“You’re still with Philipp,” Remus muttered.

“I’ll break up with him.”

They stayed silent for a while, before Sirius whispered, “If it’s because you think you’re not worthy of me, Remus Lupin, you’ve never been more wrong in your entire life.”

Remus sucked in a breath.

“You’re one of the smartest people I know,” Sirius said quietly. “You’re compassionate, kind, and caring as fuck. You don’t show it, but I can see through your facade. You’re determined when you want something, and you fight for it. You’re fucking amazing, Remus. You hold this— this fire in your eyes, and it’s like it’s driving you forward every day. Anything you face, you do it with as much courage and bravery anyone could possibly have. You’re— you’re a beacon, Rem. You’re a light that gives me direction. And I— I think I love you for that. I think I love you. And you being a werewolf doesn’t change any of that. An added bonus that you’re pretty cute, too.”

Finally, finally, a laugh from Remus. It sounded so much better than the ragged sobs he’d been trying to hide.

“I’ll break up with him,” Sirius murmured, nuzzling into Remus’ side, hands coming up to wipe away the tears on the werewolf’s face.

“What if he doesn’t let you?”

Sirius chuckled. “I’ll get James. And Lily.”

“You’re really trying to scare him shitless, really? Those two?”

Sirius shrugged. “Hey. He deserves it.”

Remus laughed, a breathy sound that was rarely heard by anyone. “That, I agree.”

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whisperlullaby · 4 years ago

Text

Just Say It And I’m Yours- Ch. 3

Summary: You and Steve are growing closer even inviting Bucky to your weekly pizza night, but when something happens at work you need their help before something bad happens.

Warnings: Mentions of Domestic violence, violence, cursing

A/N: Special thanks to @river-soul for betaing this for me. As with all of my work, if you are under 18 DNI please. If I missed any warnings please let me know!

It’s been one month since you started the job with the prosecutor's office, and although your caseload kept you busy Steve always made sure Friday nights were pizza nights. He told you he took your advice and put in for a leave of absence from The Avengers to get his head on straight. You swelled with pride knowing that a break would only help him come back a better person. On this particular Friday night, you were working late finishing up some paperwork on a domestic violence case that was going to court on Monday. You had set the victim up in a safehouse and gave her a burner cell to contact you if anything happened. It wasn’t a typical protocol for victim advocates to be that involved, but you couldn’t help feeling like something wasn’t right. As you were getting ready to leave there was a knock at your door.

“Come in,” you said while you packed up your desk.

Connor Pierce meandered into your office.

“Hey, there darling I was hoping to catch you.”

“Connor, I told you not to call me that,” you huffed. “What can I do for you?”

“Just thought I would let you know that my client made bail,” Connor said carefully.

You stopped breathing. Connor was representing the person who left your client for dead on the sidewalk outside their apartment after she ran late with his dinner.

“He was supposed to be in jail until the hearing. How did he make bail?” You seethed.

Connor sat in the chair in front of your desk and sighed. “I really have no idea. Off the record, I was kind of hoping he would rot in there for a few days, but I guess he has more pull than he led me to believe.”

You looked at Connor with your mouth agape. “Aren’t you supposed to be providing your clients the best representation?”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like them,” Connor smirked at you.

“Well, thanks for the heads up. Now, if you don’t mind I have to make a phone call.”

You pulled out your phone and started to call the safehouse. Connor stood up and placed a hand over your phone.

“It’s late, and there isn’t anything you can do. Why don’t I take you out to dinner? My treat.”

You pulled away from Connor and smiled. “It’s 5 o’clock, so not too late. Besides, I have plans tonight, which you know seeing as you ask me out every Friday and every Friday I tell you the same thing.”

He laughed and nodded his head. “You’ll go out with me eventually. I’m very persistent.”

“I’m sure you are sweetie, now if you’ll excuse me I have a phone call to make and plans to keep.”

You gestured for Connor to leave your office. Once he was gone you sent a text to your client to let her know about her husband making bail. When you left your office without a response you decided to call the safehouse.

“Hi, I’m calling about Ava Hendrix codeword: Sparrow. Her husband was released on bail and I am trying to get a hold of her.”

“Hello yes, Mrs. Hendrix left a few hours before curfew and hasn’t returned. We have been trying to get a hold of her too.”

Your stomach jumped into your throat. “Thank you. I’ll contact the authorities.”

You hung up with the safehouse and reached out to the police. Unfortunately, since there was no order of protection and Ava was an adult they were ‘unable to provide any assistance unless there was immediate danger.’ You called bullshit.

You took the steps to Steve’s apartment two at a time. When you got to his door you knocked frantically until he opened it.

“Jeeze, doll I know you love pizza but cool it with the knocking,” Steve teased before he saw your face and his smile dropped, “What’s going on?”

You pushed past Steve into his apartment. “I can’t find one of my clients and her dickbag husband made bail.”

You looked up and saw Bucky hovering around the counter next to the pizza. You squeezed your eyes shut and let out a small curse. You had forgotten that you invited Bucky to pizza night this week to help him relax after a particularly difficult mission. Shaking your head, you turned back to Steve.

“I need to find her Steve, he almost killed her.” You started shaking and Steve pulled you into a hug, rubbing soothing circles into your back.

“Okay, we’ll find her. Buck, can you call whoever isn’t on a mission for a personal favor?”

“Sure thing Stevie,” Bucky pulled out his phone and started making calls.

“I’m ruining pizza night. I forgot I invited Bucky this week. He was supposed to be relaxing after the mission, not be thrust into a new one.” You put your head in your hands as Steve chuckled.

“Don't worry about Bucky sweetheart, he's tough he'll manage.” Steve placed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, “Why don’t we take the pizza to go and drive around for a bit to see if we can spot her.”

“I would really like that Steve, thank you.”

You, Steve, and Bucky piled into Steve’s car. You had to admit you were shocked when you saw the clown car Steve drove. After effectively getting Bucky to agree to the backseat, you had to have a good view since you knew what Ava looked like, you gave Steve her old address thinking to start there.

“Could you move your seat up?” Bucky asked as he shifted around uncomfortably.

You whipped your head around, narrowing your eyes at Bucky, “We are in the middle of searching for a woman who is in serious danger and you're worried about leg room?”

Bucky stared at you for a minute before sliding over into the middle of the backseat. You turned around and caught his smirk in the rearview mirror. Your phone chirped and you saw a text from Ava’s burner phone. You sucked in a deep breath before opening it.

“Hi, sorry to worry you. I’m fine. I’m home and Derek is going to take care of me. Thanks for your help, see you on Monday.”

Tears pricked your eyes. “Steve, drive faster. He has her.”

You heard the whirring of Bucky’s metal arm and saw the tick in Steve’s jaw as he slammed on the gas. When you got to the apartment you could hear Ava screaming and things crashing. You whipped open the car door and bolted to the apartment before Steve fully stopped the car. You jiggled the handle but it was locked. You checked under the welcome mat to see if they kept a spare key and let out a breath of relief when you saw the copper key. Quickly opening the door you saw Ava huddled on the floor bleeding over shattered glass and Derek wielding a bat.

“Hey, asshole drop the bat!” You rushed at him and Derek took a swing at you, narrowly missing your head as you ducked.

“You’re that bitch who tried to hide my wife from me. This doesn’t concern you.” He lifted the bat over his head and you braced your arms over your face before you heard the bat drop and Derek cry out in pain.

You looked up and saw him clutching his shoulder where a knife was sticking out. Turning around you saw Bucky pull another knife from his holster and Steve stalking toward Derek with fire in his eyes. You crawled over to Ava who was thankfully still awake and called 911.

“You think it’s fun to hit women? Think it makes you a man?” Steve threw a punch and cracked Derek's nose, “How do you like getting his? Huh? Not so much fun when they’re not afraid of you?”

“Steve, stop, the police are coming and I don’t need him filing a report on you.”

Steve turned around and met your pleading eyes. He softened a bit before throwing Derek back on the ground. He came over to check you for any injuries before turning his attention to Ava. Bucky waited by the door as the sirens grew louder, twirling his knife as if to silently dare Derek to try something. Aside from a few cuts and bruises, Ava was fine.

When the police got there they put Derek in handcuffs as his attorney arrived. You glared at Connor as you waited with Ava who was being checked out by the paramedics. After telling her you would be right back to ride with her to the hospital, you made your way over to Connor.

“Don’t think he’s making bail this time,” you spat.

“Well since he broke the conditions of his release he’s being remanded until the trial,” Connor sighed. “I told you he made bail not only because it’s my job but because I thought something bad might happen.”

You glared at Connor who gave you a soft look.“Well, I think I’d like you more if you didn’t represent such complete scum.”

“I think I’d like me more too,” Connor admitted before walking away.

You felt a hand on your shoulder as you turned around to see Steve.

“Hey, doll, you okay?”

“I’m fine Steve. I’m really happy you and Bucky were here, who knows what would have happened if it wasn’t for you guys.” You gave him a shy smile.

“I’m glad for the opportunity for some target practice,” Bucky joked.

You laughed and gave him a hug that he tentatively returned. “You have perfect aim and you know it, Buck. I have to go get Ava to the hospital and finish my reports. Go enjoy your pizza, I’ll see you tomorrow for coffee Steve.”

You placed a kiss on Steve’s cheek and jogged back over to the ambulance. Before you were out of earshot you caught Bucky talking to Steve.

“I like her, Stevie. She reminds me of you.”

“Yeah, I like her too,” Steve said wistfully.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers series #tw domestic violence

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definitelyseven · 4 years ago

Text

hurts so good | two

summary: growing up with Park Jinyoung was never easy and things are about to get worse when you’ve been asked to marry him

“Excuse me sir, how much longer? I’m in a rush,” you asked as you nervously moved around in your seat inside the taxi.

“Ma’am as you can see there’s tons of traffic. I can’t go any faster than this,” he protested.

“Can I get off here?” you asked him, kindly.

“Sure, but you still have 10 minutes by drive. It’ll be a long walk,” he warned.

“That’s alright. Thank you,” you said as you handed the fare to the driver. You picked up the trial of your dress and ran towards the venue where the charity ball was held. The driver was right, it’s a long way but you couldn’t afford to be late. You were sure your toes would blister tomorrow but that didn’t matter at least not to Jinyoung.

“What the hell took you so long?” Jinyoung asked as he sees you running towards him. The charity ball was filled with rich people who were desperate to make connections with money. Jaebum and Jinyoung were no different.

“I’m sorry there was so much traffic,” you said out of breath.

“I told you to leave the office earlier,” he blamed.

“Now’s not the time to argue,” Jaebum warned, looking around. "Y/N, you’re injured. What happened?” he asked, worried.

You looked down at your hands and knees that were all scratched up. “I thought I was going to be late so I ran here and fell,” you explained to the both of them.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he suggested, guiding you towards the back with less people.

“Wait. Where’s the auction item?” Jinyoung asked. You quickly handed it to him. He opens the box to reveal a shattered crystal pendant. “What the hell did you do?” he glared.

“Oh no...” you gasped. “I’m so sorry. It must’ve shattered when I fell.”

“Do you know how expensive this was?” he said angrily. You bit your lip - you did know but you didn’t do it on purpose. “What are we going to use to auction off?” You were left speechless; unsure of what to say or do. You knew you were clumsy but you didn’t expect this to happen. “You had one fucking job,” he whispered for only you and Jaebum to hear.

“Jinyoung!”

The three of you turned to look at whoever was calling Jinyoung. It was Mr. Kim and his beautiful daughter, Jisoo. Every year Jisoo and her dad would host a charity event. Jisoo loved doing charity work and she was very well known for making every event successful. Tonight would be no different.

Not only was Jisoo beautiful and kind, she was also Jinyoung’s best friend. They grew up together, just like you and Jinyoung did. They were close and he was always happy around her. One thing you knew for sure was Jinyoung always loved her. If she had loved him back, she would be Mrs. Park instead of you.

Jinyoung’s expression changed immediately after seeing them. “Mr. Kim,” he greeted shaking his hand. “Jisoo,” he smiled widely. You could tell it was genuine by the way his eyes wrinkled with every smile.

“I’m glad you all could make it. Where’s Chaewon?” she asked Jaebum.

“She’s sick so she’s resting at home. She sends her apologies,” Jaebum answered.

“I hope she feels better,” Jisoo smiled. Everything about her was perfect - the way she walked, smiled and acted was perfect. “What are you auctioning tonight?”

The three of you remained quiet; unsure of what you could auction off.

“If I remember correctly, we don’t necessarily need to auction off an item. We can auction off our skills, our time,” Jinyoung reminded.

“That’s correct. I’ll be auctioning off my time - golfing lessons,” she smiled sweetly.

“Great! I’m auctioning her off,” Jinyoung suggested.

“What?” you and Jaebum said together making Jisoo giggle.

“You mean Y/N’s auctioning off her skills this time?” Jisoo clarified. But you don’t have any skills worth auctioning.

“Yes she is,” Jinyoung decided.

“Great I’ll put you on this list,” Jisoo said to you. You nodded slowly and unwillingly.

“Jisoo, do you have something to clean her up?” Jinyoung asked. She looked at you, concerned with your injuries.

“Yes let’s go clean that up,” she tells you, extending her hand out to you. You followed her into the back. “I’m so glad you came! It’ll be fun,” she said cheerfully.

“I don’t really know what skill to auction,” you revealed as she handed you a band aide.

“Whatever it is, Jinyoung will definitely bid on you so you don’t have to worry.” You smiled nervously at her. She was right. Even if Jinyoung didn’t love you, he would still bid on you because he needed to show everyone how much he “loves” his wife. “Don’t be nervous. Jinyoung’s here remember,” Jisoo comforted.

You smiled at her, “Thanks.”

She gave you another smile before walking onto the stage.

“Our beautiful host tonight will be auctioning her time - golfing lessons. Starting bid is $10,000,” the auctioneer said.

“$300,000,” Jinyoung called out.

“$500,000,” Mr. Kim called out immediately after Jinyoung. The both of them went back and forth until the bid was up to $1M. You watched from backstage at how Jinyoung nonchalantly bids on her; each time earning a smile from her. He was happy just by looking at her. $1M for this auction was way more than what the three of you had planned to spend as representatives for the company but Jinyoung didn’t seem like he cared.

“$1.5 million,” Jinyoung called out again. Loud whispers and gasps filled the room - what’s their relationship, is she worth that much?

You knew Jinyoung would never do the same for you. She’s special to him.

“$1.6 million,” Mr. Kim called out. Of course, he was willing to spend as much as he needed on his daughter. There was no way he was going to let a married man bid on his daughter.

“I appreciate both gentlemen showing interest in my time,” Jisoo interrupted. “The children at the orphanage thanks you both for your generosity. I’m willing to extend my offer to both gentlemen if they’re willing to each donate $1.5 million.”

“That’s no problem for me,” Jisoo’s father immediately agreed.

“No problem for me too,” Jinyoung agreed happily. There was no doubt that Jinyoung’s family was rich, but even though he was, $1.5 million for golfing lessons didn’t seem worth it to you. It didn’t seem worth it to Jaebum either.

You watched from backstage as Jisoo’s father and Jinyoung walked on the stage to claim their “prize”. The reporters took pictures and they shook each other’s hand - all seemed innocent to people who didn’t know Jinyoung. But you knew your husband and you knew that he did this because he loved her and didn’t want her to spend time with any other men here.

“Next up Mrs. Y/N Park,” the auctioneer announced.

You nervously walked up on stage; reporters taking pictures of you as you stood there. You scanned the bottom of the stage and Jinyoung was nowhere to be found. Where was he?

“Starting bid is $10,000,” the auctioneer said once again. Silence filled the room making you more and more nervous. Where the hell was Jinyoung? He was supposed to bid on you. “The starting bid for Mrs. Park is $10,000. Any takers?” the auctioneer repeated.

This was embarrassing. You picked at your fingers nervously, desperate to find Jinyoung in the sea of people but he was no longer in the room. How could he leave when he knew you were up next? Whispers filled the room as people wondered who would bid on you? You wondered the same. The auctioneer chuckled nervously, unsure of how to proceed next. This has probably never happened before. People always bided on the items. You looked down at the floor, embarrassed.

“$100,000,” Jaebum called. You quickly looked up at him, relieved to hear a familiar voice.

“$100,000! Going once, twice, three times,” the auctioneer called out quickly, probably just as relieved as you. “Congratulations Mr. Im, please come up on stage.”

“Thank you,” you whispered to Jaebum as he stood next to you to take the congratulatory picture.

“Don’t worry about it,” he comforts, slightly rubbing your back. “Smile for the picture.”

You nodded and smiled at the reporters as they took your pictures. Jinyoung came back after your turn. He sat down next to you as if he nothing was wrong, as if he didn’t forget about you. He didn’t even realize that you had already gone on stage. Were you that insignificant to him?

“Stop right there,” Jaebum called as the three of you walked out of the charity event.

You and Jinyoung stopped in your steps, turning around to face Jaebum.

“What?” Jinyoung responded, annoyed.

“What the hell was that in there?” Jaebum asked, furious.

“What do you mean?”

Jaebum chuckled in disbelief, “Let’s not even begin to talk about the fact that you spent $1.5M on Jisoo which was way more than we agreed on, but how could you leave Y/N stranded on stage by herself?” he questioned.

“She wasn’t stranded and I was on an important call,” Jinyoung defended. “You were there to bid on her so why does it matter?”

Jaebum grabs Jinyoung by the collar and shoves him against the wall. “She’s your fucking wife. How do you think she feels seeing you bid on another women and not on her?” he said through his teeth. “You embarrassed her.”

“Why do you care so much about my wife?” Jinyoung smirked. “She hasn’t even said anything.”

“You asshole,” he said raising his arm into a fist to throw a punch. You immediately reached for Jaebum’s hand, stopping him from hurting Jinyoung.

“Stop!” you screamed. “There are reporters everywhere.”

Jaebum shoves Jinyoung against the wall roughly again before letting him go. He straightens out his suit and turns to you. “He’s not worth defending,” he said to you before walking away.

The car ride home with Jinyoung was quiet. You were hurt that he wasn’t there to bid on you like you had thought he would. Everything Jaebum said was right. He embarrassed you and he didn’t even care. He didn’t even think about you. All he thought about was Jisoo and making sure she was taken care of.

“It really was an important call,” he repeated to you. You let out a small hum, acknowledging his words but you didn’t look at him. Your vision becomes blurry with tears as you stared straight ahead at the road.

Were you that naive to think that things would actually change after you got married? Did you really think that he would love you just because your names were written on a piece of paper?

You stood underneath the shower head, letting the scorching hot water hit your skin. The water hit your face, merging your tears with the hot water but the taste of your salty tears was still there. The water stung the scratches on your hands and knees but this pain was nothing compared to how your heart hurt and ached. Every heart beat felt like a punch to your stomach, like someone had their hands around your throat. You were unable to breath or move and there was nothing you could do but allow yourself to get beat up every time.

What could you have possibly done to make Jinyoung dislike you, his wife so much? Every memory you shared with Jinyoung ran through your mind daily. You couldn’t think of any reason for him to hate you. You were always nice to him. You always loved him.

“Louise, where’s Jinyoung?” you asked your housekeeper.

“Young Mr. Park went out,” she responded.

“Did he say when he’ll be back?”

“No ma’am,” she answered, returning back to work. You sighed. The least he could do was tell you he was heading out at this hour. Jinyoung hasn’t been coming home for several nights now. You can’t help but think about the pink lipstick on the collar of his suit. Could he be spending the night with her?

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gamerwoo · 4 years ago

Text

[Tales from the Pack] Chan: Homewrecker (Part Four)

Characters: Chan x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, angst, mention of attempted suicide, mentions of abuse, a tiny bit of fluff at the end

Word count: 2,410

Summary: Chan caught your attention as soon as your eyes met across the market. Something about him drew you to him, and you knew you were meant to be. However, you were already taken and arranged to be married on your next birthday, so you could never be together.

Previous | Next | Homewrecker Masterlist

“No,” Soonyoung stated.

Chan gave the alpha an incredulous look, “What do you mean ‘no’?”

“She’s engaged to the mayor’s son, Chan,” Soonyoung explained, rubbing his temples as he tried to figure out how to go about all this. “We can’t kidnap her, the entire town will be out hunting us. That fucking twerp already has hunters out in the woods every goddamn night.”

“Seungcheol would say--”

“Well I’m your original alpha; your real alpha,” Soonyoung snapped before the younger wolf could even finish his sentence. “Before we found them, I was the one who watched out for you.”

“Jihoon and Seungcheol are my alphas now too,” he stated. “I’d rather listen to them if they tell me I can save _____.”

“Ah, so you have selective obedience now? Fantastic. Well, if you get yourself arrested or tortured or murdered, you’ll know why.”

“I’d do any of that if it meant saving _____ from Donghae!”

Soonyoung sighed deeply, letting his head drop against the kitchen table, “Chan, you didn’t even tell her she’s your mate. You can’t just assume she’d want to stay with you.”

Chan frowned, getting more and more angry with the alpha by the second, “What do you know? You’ve never even had a mate!”

“You’re right, Chan!” Soonyoung stated, slamming his palms down on the smooth surface as he lifted his head up and smiled angrily at Chan. “You are absolutely right. I wish I had one so I wasn’t going out every other night just trying to find my mate, but we don’t always get what we want, do we? Ask Joshua about it, he knows better than anybody. In fact, if you act impulsively, _____ is going to end up like Lilly, too!”

Chan’s mouth closed, his jaw set as his eyes darted to the floor. He knew Soonyoung was right, and he also knew he shouldn’t have said what he said. He didn’t realize the alpha was so lonely and that was why he slept around. He thought maybe he just had a really high sex drive or something, honestly.

“Soonyoung, I’m--”

“I understand your frustration, Chan,” Soonyoung said, his voice much calmer now. “I know you want to protect her, but we need to wait until we have a solid plan. Especially with that tracker on her, we can’t do anything.”

“Her birthday in two weeks,” Chan reported, glancing up to look at the alpha. “Do you think we’ll have a plan by then?”

“Absolutely,” he nodded. “We’ll just need help.”

“Help?” Jia spoke up as she entered the kitchen, one arm hooked through Minghao’s while her other held her cane. “Help with what?”

“Chan’s mate is in a bit of trouble, and we need to get her out in two weeks time,” Soonyoung explained, giving a quick synopsis of the situation. “The problem is she’s engaged to the son of an important man in town, and she’s being tracked.”

“Tracked?” Minghao repeated, settling his mate down in a chair. “Tracked by who?”

“No, they…” Chan trailed off, not even wanting to think about what Donghae did to you.

“Her asshole fiancé put a tracker in her,” Soonyoung spoke up in place of the upset pup. “We need to get her out without anybody knowing.”

Minghao sucked in a sharp breath, “Ouch…”

“We’ll definitely need the assistance of Shua at the very least,” Soonyoung said, already trying to think of a plan. “I don’t know how he’ll feel going into town, though. After Lilly, he doesn’t like going unless he absolutely has to.”

“If it’s to help somebody, I think he’ll do it,” Jeonghan shrugged with a nod. “Especially if it’s to help a mate.”

“Who’s Lilly?” Eunjin wondered, suddenly appearing in the doorway to the kitchen.

The banshee was almost like a ghost, nobody even hearing her walk over or knowing she was listening, but she just appeared out of seemingly nowhere. Although, it was sometimes funny because she’d even catch the werewolves off guard and make them jump.

Soonyoung looked at Minghao, then Chan, then his eyes flashed up at the ceiling, knowing Joshua could probably hear them, “Ah…story for a different time. Is anybody hungry? I can make breakfast.”

“Everybody who can remotely cook is asleep,” Minghao pointed out.

“Eh, it’s fine,” the alpha waved the concern away as he stood up from his seat. “Jia, how’d you sleep last night? Anything interesting happen?”

The blind girl let out a soft sigh, resting her chin on her palm, “Wonwoo had another nightmare, and Junhui had his bird dream again.”

“…Bird dream?” Chan repeated, quirking an eyebrow.

“Junhui has a reoccurring nightmare about a giant bird trying to feed him to its young,” Minghao explained, holding back a laugh. “Now he’s terrified of birds.”

“There’s also Josh’s dreams about Lilly,” Chan noted. “She says he dreams about Lilly a lot.”

“Seriously, who is Lilly?” Seungkwan’s mate pushed, wanting to know about the girl she’d never heard about. “You don’t have to tell me everything, I just want to know who she is. I have...a...feeling.”

“Feeling?” Jia repeated curiously, eyes darting over to where she’d heard Eunjin’s soft voice.

Soonyoung shrugged, “Eunjin’s part of the pack now. Might as well tell her.”

Minghao let out a deep sigh, running his slender fingers through his hair as he sat down beside his mate, “Lilly was Joshua’s mate.”

“Was?”

“She…passed away,” Chan replied awkwardly. “Joshua doesn’t like anybody talking about it, but that’s basically all you need to know.”

“Don’t werewolves die without their mate?” she wondered, settling in a chair and curling her knees to her chest.

“If their mate dies, a werewolf has another chance to find another mate. The heartbreak, though…” Minghao trailed off, remembering how awful it was to see Joshua that way.

“It’s difficult to live through,” Soonyoung continued where his brother had left off. “It makes you depressed as hell, but it won’t kill you like being denied will. I can’t even tell you how many times Joshua tried to kill himself because of it. The pain is too much to deal with.”

As the older wolves spoke, Chan just listened and thought about what Soonyoung had said. If Chan did anything wrong, you could end up like Lilly. Just imagining anything like that happening to you made his inner wolf whine softly. But the two werewolves just chalked it up to him being upset over their dead sister.

“I think that’s enough about her for now,” Soonyoung decided after hearing Chan’s whimper. “Back to breakfast. You’re all growing boys and girls.”

Chan just rolled eyes, trying to get out of the negative headspace, “Soonyoung, we’re all adults.”

Soonyoung turned around, pointing at the youngest with the tip of the knife he held in his hand, “No, you and Eunjin are our babies. So sit down and be quiet, pup.”

Donghae knew nothing of your meeting with Chan last night -- which you thought you had dreamed, honestly. The only reason you knew it was real was because he had left a note, promising to meet you again tonight.

Once you managed to get yourself out of bed despite the aches in your body, your mother flashed you a worried look. You knew your family did care about your well-being, but their fear of Donghae’s power outweighed their care for you. Therefore, you felt they didn’t truly care enough about you at all.

Maybe Chan’s promise to get you out of there wouldn’t be so bad. In fact, you trusted the boy much more than anybody else at this point.

“Donghae requested to see you, _____,” your mother told you as she kneaded dough for bread, flour coating her apron, and making patches on her cheeks. “Do you need your father to escort you?”

“No,” you laughed dryly, knowing Donghae would know if you arrived without veering off course anyway, “I’ll be fine.”

“What’s so funny?” she wondered, pausing her actions to give you her full attention.

“Nothing,” you replied, shaking your head. “I’ll be back later.”

You slipped on some shoes before leaving the house, making sure the door was closed behind you before you let out a groan. Why would Donghae want to see you? Hadn’t he done enough? He’d left you alone after he hit you so what made him feel the need to bring you back all of a sudden? You didn’t have any answers he was looking for, so you were basically useless to him.

As you walked to his house, you made sure to avoid the marketplace, knowing he’d get upset if he saw you going through there even if it was just to get to his house faster. Instead, you went around, grumbling unhappily to yourself about how ridiculous he was.

You truly hoped Chan could save you from this life.

Before you could even knock on Donghae’s door, he opened it with a toothy smile that seemed too happy, “Ah, _____! I’ve been expecting you.”

“I know,” you muttered, but he didn’t catch it as he had turned away to walk back into his house. “Is there a reason?”

“Do I need a reason to see my dear fiancée?” he wondered, his voice laced with a charm that would’ve had any girl swooning.

Any girl except the one who knew what he was really like.

“No, I suppose not,” you replied, knowing if you talked back to him, you’d definitely be in for it.

He paused at the bottom of the stairs, turning to face you as he held an arm out to you, apparently wanting to take your hand, “I thought I could share something with you. Do you happen to know of Kang Soomin?”

Your brows furrowed as you cautiously took his hand, letting him lead you up the stairs to his office, “I believe so, yes.”

You knew Soomin was a kind girl who lived alone on the very edge of town. She used to live with a kind old woman -- strange, but that gave her charm -- until she unfortunately passed away. You used to see the pretty girl alone in the market, but you hadn’t seen her for a long time. So you were curious as to why Donghae brought her up so suddenly.

Donghae’s house had many stories to it considering his father was very wealthy, so he brought you to one of the windows that faced the direction of Soomin’s cottage. Even with her house being on the edge of town, you could clearly see the large pile of black ash from where you were.

You tried not to show any emotion, your gasp getting caught in your throat.

“She had run off with one of the brothers of your little...friend,” Donghae told you, his voice low and menacing as he stared out at what used to be Soomin’s house. “We had caught her and her mate before, but they escaped. Nobody knows where they went, but I can assure you that they will be found.”

He looked at you, expecting a response. You just nodded, not wanting to anger him more. If he thought you were on their side, he’d have you killed for sure.

“This is what happens to those who hang around with those monsters,” he warned. “It happened to Soomin, and it’ll happen to that pack and their disgusting mates when the hunters find them.”

“Good,” you gulped, unable to tear your eyes away from the ash. You had no idea that was what happened to Soomin, but you hoped she managed to get away safely, and that the pack had been protecting her, but you’d never say that to Donghae. “Werewolves are…bad…”

‘Very convincing, ___,’ you thought to yourself, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything awful about Chan.

“Of course they are,” he agreed, giving you a skeptical look. “You’d know better than anybody, wouldn’t you?”

As you finally turned away from the awful view to look at your fiancé, who was an even worse view, all you could think was, ‘I sure do.’

As promised, Chan showed up again that night. This time, though, he brought you ice wrapped in cloth; lots and lots of ice in cloth. You were sure you needed ice packs for your cheeks considering how warm they felt when he made you lay down so he could place them on your bruises.

“So,” he began once you were relaxed onto the bed, “we have a plan.”

“Already?” you asked, surprised the pack had managed to come up with a way to save you in one day. “That was…fast.”

“You said you get married two weeks from now,” he stated, kneeling on the floor, and resting his arms on the edge of your bed. “The night before, we’re coming to get you exactly at midnight. It’ll be the morning of your birthday, so we need to get you out of here before the ceremony. We just need the spare time until then to...figure some things out.”

You frowned, “Midnight? How will we manage?”

“We have fantastic eyesight,” he flashed you a cocky grin. “Plus, I’m quite fast. I’ll get you out of here in no time with a little help from my pack.”

“What about the tracker?” you asked slowly, almost forgetting the square chip in your arm.

Now, Chan was frowning, “Well…we’ll have to get it out.”

Your face contorted like you were already uncomfortable, “...How bad will it hurt?”

“We’re cutting open your arm and taking something out of it,” he sighed, not liking the idea of you being in pain. Quickly, he added, “But one of my brothers can heal you! It’ll only hurt for a minute, and then he’ll make it feel better. I promise.”

“I’ll do anything if it means getting out of here,” you admitted, your eyes looking toward the ceiling now. “There’s nothing worse than Donghae.”

“_____,” Chan’s voice was quiet and soft when he spoke to you again, but it grabbed your attention as if he had shouted, “if he ever hit you again…you’d tell me, right?”

“Would you want me to tell you?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

He was silent for a moment, just staring at you, “I just do.”

“Okay,” you nodded, “I’ll tell you.”

He smiled softly, a soft grumble sounding in his chest. He stroked your hair back, changing the subject, and talking with you until you finally fell asleep, listening to the sound of Chan’s voice.

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some-kindofgnome · 4 years ago

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Kinktober #27: The Lake: Bakusquad

In which you and Kirishima take a trip to the lake for a little class reunion.

Characters: primarily Kirishima / f!reader, but also Jirou, Sero, Kaminari, Bakugou and Mina / f!reader AND background Kaminari / Jirou

Warnings: smut (18+ please!) aged-up characters, pro-hero Kiri, Bakugou, Denki, Jirou, Mina and Sero, group sex, polyamory, brief mentions of drinking, not a whole lot of attention paid to protection (sorry...)

Notes: Today’s prompt was “Orgy.” You can probably tell by how many fcking PEOPLE are involved lmao. I... had trouble with this one! This was tough. There are a lot of limbs to keep track of. But I wouldn’t be opposed to re-visiting this dynamic again soon, with more time to play around a little.

I know it says 1-A on the masterlist, but it really did turn out to be more of a Bakusquad thing, sorry!

Kinktober Masterlist

You’re folding one last sweater into your weekend bag and zipping it up when Kirishima swings by to pick you up.

After a very long, hot summer week at the office, your boss let you go a couple of hours early on a slow Friday afternoon- just soon enough to catch the early train home. It turned out to be very lucky indeed, since Kirishima’s already here and you’re just finishing up your packing.

Then again, it’s not your fault you’ve been agonizing over what to bring.

The buzzer by your door sends your heart leaping into your throat, but it only takes a quick peek out the front window to confirm that it’s Kiri. He knows that you’ll look before you head for the door, so he’s stepped back from the front stoop a little and shoots you a bashful wave with one hand shoved into his pocket.

You melt. He’s cute enough to put your nerves to rest.

“Good afternoon, milady,” he greets with a sweep of charming enthusiasm when you pull the door open for him. He bows playfully before stepping into your apartment. “I will be your escort this weekend. Show me to your luggage.”

“I don’t think there’s enough of it to be called ‘luggage,’” you giggle. You slip an arm around his neck and push a kiss against his cheek.

“Hi.”

He gasps, pressing his fingers to the spot where your lips touched.

“Such unprofessional behaviour. I’m going to have to report this, you know.”

“Shut up.” You bat at his chest. The bastard, in all his well-muscled glory, barely flinches. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”

The threat’s playful, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t consider it, it in the darkest hours of the night before.

Every year, on the last weekend in July, Kirishima gets together with some old friends from UA. They rent a little cabin out by the lake, drink, party, and catch up. You’ve been dating just under a year, so you’ve never been to one of these before. Even though you’ve met everybody who’s going to be there individually, it’ll be the first time you see them as a group.

And Kirishima’s known them for ten years. You like to think you know him pretty well, but compared to them, you’re strangers.

“It’s not too late to,” he breathes, pausing to glance at you with a moment’s sincerity.

“No,” you brush. “No, I’m fine.” You put your hands on his forearms and squeeze gently. “Nervous, but… that’s what the drive up is for, right?”

“Yeah.” He flashes you a grin that steals your heart over and over again, sweeping you and your little suitcase out the door.

The drive is breezy and surprisingly quick, given the expected level of weekend cottage-country-traffic. You blast the radio and turn it down during the commercials. But you can’t help the sinking dread that pits in your stomach when the ETA in your navigation app drops from an hour and a half to forty-five minutes to five minutes.

The drive was supposed to be your chance to settle your nerves. You’re not ready to be here yet.

When you pull down the sloped gravel driveway of the cabin, there are already three cars there. You recognize Bakugou’s sleek Audi, but you can only assume that the other two belong to the rest of the crew.

So everyone else is already here. Makes sense. Nobody else works 9-5, so they probably cut off early to get here.

Doesn’t make you any less freaked out.

Kirishima insists on grabbing both of your bags. He shoulders his way into the cabin with excitement building in every muscle. You can see it from ten feet away. He’s thrilled to be here. That thought honestly helps, for a hot minute.

Until you hear the voices that drift from inside.

The whole cabin’s lit up with savoury, beautiful smells when you step inside. The kitchen’s crowded- Bakugou’s chopping vegetables and doing his best to shoo everyone out of his way while he sautés and chops and glazes and bakes.

“Jesus Christ. Finally. Will you get these assholes outta my way?” Bakugou snarls, waving his knife around as soon as he catches sight of the two of you.

Before you can even laugh properly at Bakugou’s temper, there’s a high-pitched squeal of your name from behind him, and he’s abruptly shoved against the edge of the counter as a bright pink blur streaks around the island and launches herself at you.

“Hiiiii,” Mina coos, pressing a kiss to your cheek after she’s given you a tight squeeze.

The rest of the party filters in around you- Sero and Denki crowding not-so-subtly around the new addition to their little crew while Jirou makes her way over at a respectful pace. It becomes obvious to you almost immediately that you’re the first girl Kirishima’s ever brought to one of these.

You want to let that feel special. Instead, the intimidation only spikes.

You need to relax.

“Here, babe,” Mina sighs, shooing the boys away from you. “Kiri’ll take your bags upstairs. Let’s get you a drink.”

She grabs your hand and drags you toward the bar cart in the living room. Kirishima disappears up the stairs, but before you know it, he’s re-appearing. So is everybody else. The smells from the kitchen are growing unbearably tantalizing.

Bakugou hollers when dinner’s ready.

He’s done glazed pork chops with some kind of gorgeous mango slaw- indulgent and delicious, but light enough that none of you will be too stuffed at the end of the meal. You sit between him and Kirishima and everybody catches up.

Mina and Sero are starting an agency together. Denki and Jirou found a place together just outside of the city. And Bakugou, of all people, has just taken on his first U.A. intern.

You feel sorry for the poor kid already.

Once the dinner dishes have been cleared, you’re starting to feel more at ease. The conversation flows easily between the group of you, and you’re kind of killing it with the one-liners. Even Bakugou gives a dull chuckle when you land a particularly good one.

But the real purpose of this weekend can’t be put off forever.

“Babe,” Mina coos eventually, leaning over Kirishima to settle a hand on your thigh. “I am so excited that you’re here. Do you know how long it’s been since we had anybody new to play with?”

“Mina,” Kirishima scolds. “Don’t scare her.”

“What?” Mina sits up. “You said you were gonna tell her before you brought her here. Kiri, tell me you talked to her.” She looked up at you with wide eyes. “He told you, didn’t he?”

“Yes,” you promise, holding your hands up to settle her. “He talked to me. I agreed to come knowing full well what we’re here for. But… I’m still nervous as hell over here.”

“Don’t worry,” Mina promises. “We’re gonna take good care of you, sweets. Besides, you and Kiri and Bakugou have before, right? So between them, it’s basically like you’ve already slept with all of us.”

She’s got a point. But that doesn’t change the fact that your cheeks are like molten lava just thinking about it.

Every year, on the last weekend in July, Kirishima gets together with some old friends from UA. They rent a cabin out by the lake, drink, party… and fuck. You’ve shrugged monogamy with him before. Mina’s right- Bakugou’s joined you on a few different occasions. But this is something you’ve never even thought of trying before.

Still, Kirishima makes you want to take risks. He’s always been good that way- encouraging you to push your comfort zone without compromising your boundaries. When you first talked about this weekend, he’d framed his little pitch with the promise that if you weren’t comfortable with it, he was happy to miss out on it, too.

But you know his friends. You know his character. You trust him.

So you jumped.

“She’s so cute when she’s embarrassed,” Denki chuckles, propping his chin in his hand. He’s got his other palm on Jirou’s thigh under the table. In fact, everybody’s starting to get closer, now that dinner’s been taken care of.

“Let me kiss her. Please, Kiri?” Mina leans over again, resting a palm on Kiri’s lap as she bats her eyelashes at you.

“You’re gonna have to ask her yourself, Mina,” Kiri chides. He folds his arms behind his head and leans back in his chair, ready for the show.

Mina purrs your name again, smiling indulgently as she leans a little closer.

“Can I kiss you? Pretty please?”

You’re suddenly bashful, biting your lip. But you want this. You do.

“Sure. Okay.”

You release your lip from your teeth as Mina leans forward. Her lips are soft and so plush, and she’s a careful kisser. Out your right ear, you can hear Kirishima give a little sigh as he watches, and he rests a hand on each of your backs, rubbing soothingly.

“Come on,” Bakugou grunts as the two of you break apart. His chair scrapes harshly across the tile when he stands. “Get your asses to the living room before shit gets messy.”

Before you know it, you’re in a tangle of bare and sweaty limbs. You started out between Bakugou and Kirishima- the two boys you’re most familiar with. You’re stroking both of their hard cocks while they kiss each other, then you, then each other again. All the while, in the background, Mina, Sero, Denki and Jirou are stripping each other down, sprawling across the couch, letting a symphony of moans and sighs drift across the living room to your ears.

Before long, you’re pulled backwards into Denki’s lap as he fucks diligently up into you. Your pussy’s sloppy, slick from Mina’s tongue, and she’s perched right next to you, riding your boyfriend’s cock as the two of you let your hands drift.

You can see that Kirishima has a tight bond with all of these people. But you feel no jealousy towards them. If he can be so closely bonded with so many from his past, then why not you, too? Every time he catches your eye, no matter how many bodies there are between the two of you, he shoots you a loving little wink.

And at the end of the night, it’s you who’s going to be falling asleep beside him.

At some point, Bakugou pulls up a nearby chair, stroking himself while he watches the six of you drive each other to the edge, over and over and over again. By the time you’re all finished, you’re certain at least two dozen orgasms have passed between the lot of you.

And it shows. You’re exhausted.

After sharing such intimacy, you’re reluctant to break from one another. But inevitably you do, separating into your respective beds for the night. As you get ready for bed Kirishima’s full of energy.

“Holy shit, babe,” he raves, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you in for a tight kiss. “That was so fucking hot. You did such a good job, god damn.” He cups your jaw between both his hands and pulls your gaze to his.

He looks down at you with the Milky Way lit up in his eyes, fathomless love all for you.

“You looked so perfect,” he confesses, kissing your forehead, “in the middle a’ all my friends like that.”

You fall into bed together, feeling sore and spent and very loved, and sleep better than you have in weeks.

The next morning, in a haze of woodsy dawn, everybody fights over what to make for breakfast.

#my hero academia #kinktober #kirishima x reader #eijirou kirishima x reader #bakusquad x reader #bakusquad #mha fanfic #bnha fanfiction #bnha #jbbkinktober2020

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vibrant-leaf · 3 years ago

Text

Therapy is Manly

Part two.

🧡 ~KiriBaku Fic~ ❤️

Summary: The happy ending to part one of this breakup/makeup fic! Many months later, Bakugou finally tries again. The link to the song that inspired me to write this whole thing is at the bottom. And here is a link to part one if you haven't read that yet. Enjoy!

Word Count: 4032

Warnings: cursing, very little angst, suggestive tones but nothing explicit

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10 months later…

No way. There is absolutely no fucking way that Bakugou’s going to let anyone lay a single finger on Kirishima if he’s there to help it. He understands Kirishima’s strength and knows he can take care of himself easily. But he also knows that Kirishima doesn’t have eyes in the back of his head. So when some dumbass villain decides it’s a brilliant idea to try and go for Red Riot’s back when he’s already busy with another villain, Dynamight’s eyes instantly lock onto his target before he’s charging and yelling at him and proceeds to blow the villain back a solid one hundred- ope no he’s still going- two hundred yards. Sure, he could’ve held back just a tad but that’s what the fucker gets so, oh well.

Kirishima‘s able to look over in the direction of the poor soul who’s knocked out in the next town over when he finally gets a hold of the villain in front of him, and his mouth hangs open as his eyes grow wide. “Damn… that was manly.”

The fight in the streets finally comes to a close and a random reporter tracks down the great up-and-coming hero, Dynamight, before he’s able to escape the scene. Kirishima can see Bakugou roll his eyes before he faces the reporter with an unamused look on his face. And just like the press, the smile that spreads across Kirishima’s face is unavoidable.

“Hey, Dynamight!” Kirishima feels nervous but he forces himself to walk up to Bakugou after the reporter disappears to go talk to another hero.

It’s been ten whole months since Kirishima last talked to his ex-boyfriend. Graduation was eight months ago, which was the last time he saw him in person. He thinks back to that happy day when the whole class was gathered in the yard in front of U.A., just freshly graduated, and two pairs of red eyes meet within the joyful chaos that was surrounding them. They didn’t look away, they held their gaze, and they smiled at each other. Graduation was a day of celebration, a day to feel hopeful about the future, and at that moment, they both felt a small spark of hope ignite for their future together.

Kirishima is brought back to the present when he looks at Bakugou’s arms, and he wonders if his muscles were that big before because damn… those look manly.

Bakugou hears the familiar, cheery voice call out to him and he instantly realizes that hearing that voice in person is a lot better than hearing it through his phone when he watches interviews of Red Riot. Yes, he realizes that he’s indulging in what he absolutely hates, but those interviews serve as necessary reminders of what he’s going to therapy for alright? He has found that they especially help right after a tough session when he’s feeling like shit.

The scowl on Bakugou’s face relaxes when Kirishima walks up next to him.

“Thanks again for the save back there! That was… really manly, even though you probably didn’t have to blast him that far!” Kirishima laughs a little awkwardly.

“Just be more careful next time, Eij- Shitty-Hair. And that asshole deserved it.”

“Whatever you say, man!” After a couple of tense and silent seconds pass by, Kirishima glances off to the side and his hand reaches up to rub the back of his neck. “Sooo… how have you been doing?”

Bakugou knows what he’s really asking him, and he wants to tell him. He wants to tell him everything, pour out all of the contents of his heart onto this gorgeous man standing in front of him, but there were still people around them. “Fan-fuckin-tastic.” Kirishima’s faint chuckle makes Bakugou’s heart stir. This opportunity was really being handed to him on a silver platter, wasn’t it? For a few weeks, he’s been thinking about reaching out to Kirishima but had no clue how to go about it. He wasn’t exactly comfortable with texting him out of the blue after so long but right here was a golden opportunity for him. So, in sheer fuck it fashion he gets straight to the point, “are you seeing anyone right now?”

Kirishima is taken aback by the sudden question. “Uh.. no. No, I’m not.” A few people have asked him out over the past ten months and he’s told them all no. Saying that he wasn’t exactly emotionally available at the moment. While Kirishima did in fact heal from what happened between him and his love so many months ago, he was still holding onto the hope of getting back together with him. Sure, he could have tried to go out on a couple of dates but it wouldn’t have been fair to the other person if he was just wishing he was with Bakugou the whole time.

Kirishima’s heartbeat starts to quicken. Why the hell did Bakugou ask him if he was seeing anyone? Was he finally ready? Was he going to ask him if he wanted to try again? Kirishima was holding his breath now, waiting for Bakugou to say something.

Bakugou keeps tapping his thumb on his thigh. What if Kirishima says no? What if he’s completely over him and realizes he doesn’t want him anymore? He shakes his head a little to get rid of the thoughts that are trying to poison his brain. Bakugou looks at Kirishima square in the eyes. “Do you want to come over to my place for dinner tonight?”

A wide, closed-lip smile spreads across Kirishima’s face and Bakugou wonders how a simple smile like that can be so full of light.

“I’d love to.”

Bakugou feels like screaming in victory, but of course, he keeps his cool. “Great. Seven o’clock. I’ll text you my address.”

“Okay!” Excitement sparkles in Kirishima’s eyes and Bakugou’s really starting to have trouble keeping calm.

“Okay.. see ya then.” Bakugou chews on the inside of his cheek. “Gotta blast-” and he did just that; stepping back and blasting up into the air… as well as immediately regretting those last two words. Gotta blast? GOTTA BLAST?! What the fuck?! When he lands on top of a building, the embarrassment fizzles out of his body, and instead, he feels so incredibly excited that he can’t help but scream at the top of his lungs. “FUCK YEAH!”

Apparently, Bakugou didn’t fly far enough away because Kirishima could clearly hear his mini-celebration off in the distance. His chest flutters and heat rises to his face as he lifts his hand to the back of his neck again and lets out an embarrassing little giggle.

Seven o’clock approaches way too fast but also way too slow at the same time. It’s really fucking weird how time passes when you’re incredibly anxious about something.

Bakugou is plating their dinner as Kirishima is riding the elevator to the top floor of the apartment complex. They’re both sweaty and feel like their hearts are about to burst out of their chest at any given moment, and Bakugou’s almost does when he hears a knock on his door. He takes a deep, centering breath through his nose before walking over to let Kirishima inside.

The door opens and both men look at each other.

Kirishima’s hair is a little longer than it was ten months ago, and with it down it just easily goes past his shoulders, and Bakugou can easily see the black roots that are starting to grow in. His shitty hair is really throwing Bakugou through a loop right now. He wants to run his hands through it and pul- nope, nope, no. Pure thoughts. Pure thoughts only. Then, suddenly, Bakugou is hyperaware of his presence because, holy shit, Kirishima is here, he’s here for Bakugou, at Bakugou’s apartment.

Kirishima on the other hand isn’t doing super swell either. He wasn’t prepared for the navy blue dress shirt and dark grey pants Bakugou is currently wearing and gets a small sense of embarrassment from only wearing jeans and a striped button-up. “Uh.. sorry I didn’t dress up more,” he smiles awkwardly.

Bakugou smirks and cocks his head. “You think I’m not used to the way you dress Shitty-Hair?” Kirishima hums a laugh. “It looks nice, by the way.”

Kirishima’s eyebrows lift slightly. “Huh? What does?”

“You hair. The length. Your roots growing in. I don’t know, it looks nice or whatever.”

“Oh! Thanks! I’m trying to grow it out longer actually! I think it would look badass if it was really long, especially if I go Unbreakable!” The embarrassment vanishes from Kirishima, and Bakugou relaxes as he steps aside to let Kirishima in. They continue to talk about his hair, about the roots being a pain to redye, Bakugou reminding Kirishima that he’s willing to help him with that process, and Kirishima being so relieved at the offer because it really was easier and faster with Bakugou’s help after all.

Dinner goes on just like that. Talking and laughing about anything and everything: from good days on patrol to not-so-good days on patrol, raises, promotions, where Kirishima lives now, health issues…

“I think the hearing in my right ear is going to shit.” Bakugou picks at the remnants of his food he’s trying to stuff down.

“Oh really? You should probably get that checked out.”

“Nah, I’ll be fine. It’s just a pain in the ass sometimes.”

“Katsuki.” It’s the first time Kirishima uses his first name after all this time and it comes out so naturally. Bakugou has a faint blush on his cheeks from hearing it.

“...Fine. Whatever.”

“No, not whatever. You should really call a doctor so it doesn’t get worse-” Kirishima is ready to go on a long rant about how one should take care of their body and listen to any signs of trouble.

But Bakugou cuts him off. “If I say I’ll call them tomorrow will you drop it?”

“-body is a templ- oh… Only if you promise!” Kirishima is surprised at how easy it was to convince him with something like this since he used to hate going to Recovery Girl’s office at U.A.

Bakugou rolls his eyes. “I promise. And if you’re gonna say shit like ‘your body is a temple,’’’ he says mockingly, “then eat all the damn veggies I made you.”

Kirishima pretends to look offended and lets out an overly dramatic scoff. “The audacity you have to assume that I wasn’t going to!” He then proceeds to shovel all of the steamed vegetables that are leftover on his plate (which was about ninety percent of what he had to begin with and was the only thing on his plate at this point) into his mouth. Bakugou chuckles as he shakes his head at him.

They then go on to talk about more hero stuff and soon they’re comparing how many people and kids have asked them for their autographs. Kirishima has two more than Bakugou and even though he hates any prolonged interactions with fans he’s still kind of pissed.

“What?! Bullshit!”

“Nope. Not bullshit. Maybe if you didn’t look so mean and yell at everyone then more people would ask for your autograph.” Kirishima gives him a smug look.

Bakugou scoffs and crosses his arms. A weird silence falls upon them. “I’m… I’m getting better at that, by the way.” Kirishima’s eyebrows raise.

“Oh? Really?”

“Yeah, really. I better be at least, or else I would’ve been wasting my damn money on my therapist.”

“Well, that’s good to hear.” Kirishima smiles at him. “Are you still going?”

Bakugou gets up from the table, gathers their dishes, then walks to the sink. Kirishima understands, it’s tough, talking about this stuff, but isn’t that why he’s here in the first place? Then again, it’s Bakugou talking here, so he’ll give him all the time he needs. What’re a few more minutes compared to almost a year anyway? He walks over to the sink next to Bakugou. “I wash, you dry?”

“Sure.”

And they do just that. Washing, drying, and putting away the dishes with nothing but the sound of running water and clinking of dishes filling the air. They’re comfortable next to each other.

Once they’re done, Kirishima looks at the clock on the stove. It’s starting to get late already. They were talking for so long that now they didn’t have much time to talk about… that. Kirishima loved how easy and normal it felt to talk to Bakugou again but he needs to address the more important topic here. He doesn’t want this to be just a random visit and then they go back to not talking for another long of period time. But he also doesn’t want Bakugou to feel like he’s pushing him too much if it’s still too early yet. “I should probably head out soon.”

Bakugou can hear the sadness in his voice even if it is barely there from Kirishima trying to hide it, but nevertheless, he recognizes that tone. “I’m still going.” He sees Kirishima perk up a little. “It’s just… fucking hard. Who knew I’d be so damn difficult to fix. I’m better, I think, at least that’s what my therapist says. Even my parents noticed.” They’re both leaning back against the countertop in the kitchen with Bakugou’s arms crossed and Kirishima’s forearms resting on the countertop. In his peripheral, Bakugou sees Kirishima looking at him intently. He chews on the inside of his cheek. “But I’m still... Or I still... You know.”

“Yeah, I get it. You still have your moments. I’m the same way.” Kirishima continues when Bakugou looks gives him a confused look. “I started going too… figured my self-esteem and sense of self-worth could use some help. And just like you said, I’m doing a lot better, but I’ll still have my moments. I’ll have this voice in the back of my head trying to make me doubt myself again. Or when I got that promotion at Fat Gum’s agency I started feeling a little guilty. Thought someone else probably deserved it more than me-”

“Tch, like who?”

Kirishima shrugs. “Anyone, really. I know, I know, it’s dumb, but I definitely don’t think that way now. And… I realize… back when we were together in school… I shouldn’t have let you off the hook so easy after the way you’d treat me. I was just afraid you would see me as weak if I were to get too upset over something you said and then you’d dump me because you’d realize you didn’t want to be with someone who was weak.”

“I could never see you as weak, Eijirou. You are one of the strongest people I know if not, the strongest. I could see the look on your face when I said those things to you and it terrified me. I thought that if I could make you out of all people feel like shit, then I really was a fucking terrible human being… I was scared of myself... And I was scared of what I was doing to you.”

Bakugou is looking directly into Kirishima’s eyes as he lets the words fall out of his mouth. He’s thought about what exactly he would say to Kirishima when they would talk about this. But what he’s saying now isn’t like any of the rehearsed lines he’s gone over multiple times in his head, he’s simply letting his heart speak for him. It was so easy too. With Kirishima talking about his thought process from back then first, it felt natural to follow his lead and open up about what he was thinking back then too.

Bakugou takes a deep breath. “I… I truly believe I’m better now, despite having the rare occasional outburst. But it’s not almost every single day that I’ll lash out at people. I’m still me, but I’ve gotten better at apologizing, learning after I make a mistake, and not being so fucking stubborn all the time. So… I know that this time, I’ll be able to love you the right way. The way you deserve to be loved.”

Kirishima swallows the lump in his throat that’s starting to form. He’s so fucking proud of Bakugou and he’s even proud of his own progress he’s made. Kirishima can see the determination on Bakugou’s face.

Bakugou shifts a little to face him more as he looks up at him. “Eijirou… If you want to and if you’re a hundred percent sure about it… I want to try this again. Try us again. I can’t promise I won’t mess up from time to time but I can promise that I’ll never call you useless again. Fuck, I’m still sorry about that. I regretted it the second it came out of my mouth, I don’t know why-”

“Katsuki.” Bakugou stops his rambling when Kirishima touches his shoulder. “I forgive you.”

Bakugou’s shoulders relax from the tension that was building up from remembering his mistake that caused everything to go down the way it did.

Kirishima continues to speak. “And, yes, I want to try again too.” Kirishima can actually see Bakugou’s face light up and it’s the cutest damn thing to him and he really wants to kiss him right now.

“You’re a hundred percent sure?”

“Yes, a hundred percent. I want it more than anything in the world. I want you back in my life.”

A hint of worry falls back onto Bakugou’s face. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t the least bit scared. I don’t want to hurt you again.”

“Katsuki. I’m not made of glass bones and paper skin. I can handle a slip-up from time to time, okay? And I promise that I’ll be better at holding you more accountable.”

“Punch me in the fucking face if you have to.”

“Um, no. I’d rather not end up like that villain today when you blasted him into next week.”

Bakugou laughs proudly at the mention of the scum bag that tried to hurt his beloved earlier that day.

Kirishima smiles back at Bakugou and pulls him in for a hug. He really can’t help himself, he needs to touch him again.

Their hug starts off light but it quickly morphs into the type of embrace that makes them grasp onto each other like a lifeline. Kirishima’s arms are wrapped around Bakugou’s neck as his face is buried into the side of his hair. Bakugou is squeezing Kirishima’s torso and his face is digging into his shoulder. They breathe in each other’s scents. The hug and the nostalgic smell of each other are immensely relieving. This is where they belong. Together. In each other’s arms. And it feels like home.

For a while, they stay like this. Simply enjoying every second of being physically and emotionally connected again.

“I missed you so fucking much,” Bakugou breathes out against Kirishima’s shoulder.

Kirishima wants to talk but his throat is starting to burn and his lips are wobbling, so he just nods first to collect himself before replying, “I missed you too.”

Bakugou squeezes him even tighter. “It’ll be better this time, I promise. I fucking swear, okay Eijirou?” He lifts his head to look into Krishima’s glistening eyes.

Kirishima nods again and lets out a shaky, “okay.”

“And I’m never letting you go, ever again…” Bakugou glances off to the side with a look of guilt and pain, “cause that was fucking terrible.”

“Yeah…” Kirishima takes a deep breath, blinks back the tears that almost spilled out of his eyes, and swallows the lump in his throat. “Longest ten months of my life.” He can see the look of shame fall heavier in Bakugou’s eyes. “But, we both needed it. So… thank you for being strong enough to let us go so we could work on ourselves for a bit.” Bakugou still doesn’t look as relaxed as Kirishima wants him to be, so he places a hand on the side of Bakugou’s face and it makes him look directly at Kirishima. “It still might be difficult from time to time, but growing together is just as important too.” Kirishima softly smiles down at the man he would do anything for.

A blush grows quickly on Bakugou’s cheeks as his eyebrows finally relax. He’s transfixed by the way Kirishima is looking at him so he can only answer with a simple nod. And Kirishima must have a vendetta against him because this gorgeous fucker makes his brain malfunction even more by leaning down to lightly press his lips against Bakugou’s. If butterflies were fluttering in his stomach before, then they were setting off explosions now.

It feels like their first kiss all over again. How is that possible? Neither of them know, but neither of them question it. Instead, they relish in the familiar touch of the other’s lips against their own and they both gain a sense of confidence that they’re going to be just fine.

Once they separate, they slowly open their eyes before pressing their foreheads together. A moment of peaceful silence falls upon them.

In the softest voice he can manage, as if any other tone would ruin the moment between them, Kirishima reluctantly utters, “it’s getting a little late… you want to meet up again tomorrow?” Bakugou affirms him with a nod before letting go and walking him to the door. Kirishima puts a hand on Bakugou’s hip and they exchange one more sweet peck. And then Kirishima gets a smug look on his face.

“Well, gotta blast, Katsuki!” Kirishima waves as he walks out the door.

“Oh my god, shut up!” Bakugou slams the door loud enough that it most likely annoys some of his neighbors.

Kirishima laughs and is about to walk away when he hears the door reopen along with a faint, “Oi.” He turns his head to gaze upon a red-faced Bakugou.

“....I love you, Eijirou.” Bakugou worries that he said it too grumbly before Kirishima instantly blinds him with one of his signature toothy grins.

“I love you too, Katsuki!” No one, absolutely no one, can compete with the amount of happiness Kirishima is full of now. The love of his life, declaring his love for him once again, sparks so much joy in Kirishima’s heart, he’s tempted to go on the roof of a building to scream, FUCK YEAH!

Bakugou allows a little smile to slip on his face and he closes the door once more. The smile grows even wider as he leans back against his door, and that’s when he feels it again: the magnetic force that’s pulling him to his favorite person in the entire world. And for the second time today he thinks, “fuck it,” swings his door open yet again, and marches right over to the redhead before he can reach the stairs.

Kirishima turns around in part surprise and part worry, and he’s about to question Bakugou until his hand is being snatched up and he’s being pulled into the apartment. “Uh- Ka-Kats- I’d love to stay longer but I have to wake up early tomorrow.” He might be protesting but he easily follows Bakugou’s lead as they cross the threshold of the door and Kirishima lets himself be pushed against the wall.

“So stay over.” Simple as that right? Bakugou thinks so at least. He intertwines both his hands into Kirishima’s and stares daringly into his eyes. It’s Kirishima’s turn to be flustered and Bakugou is pleased.

“But my stuff- uh- my hero costume is back at my apartment.” Kirishima’s heart is hammering in his chest as excitement starts filling in the pit of his stomach.

Bakugou tilts his head and smirks. “Then I’ll just go get it for you if your ass can’t get up early enough.”

Kirishima quirks an eyebrow. Okay, two can play at this game. “Hmm.. that’s if your ass is even able to move at all tomorrow morning,” Kirishima smirks back down at Bakugou before he grabs the back of his head and crashes their lips together in a heated kiss.

And what those two men, who were so deeply in love with each other, do for the rest of the evening... is classified information.

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I hope you liked the ending! This was the longest fic I’ve ever written and I’m actually quite proud of it. Thank you so much for reading! 🙏🏻

The song that inspired me to write this fic > 🎶🎶

Also…… if you caught that Sponegbob reference… I love you. I wrote it as a joke but ended up keeping it hehehe.

#kiribaku #bakushima #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #mha #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #bakugou x kirishima #bnha #makeup #angst with a happy ending #boku no academia #my hero academia #Spotify

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