#her works give me nostalgia in the best way

[55sturn]

✮ RUNNING INTO EX!CHRIS STURNIOLO AT A PARTY

inspired by + creds to: everyone that has written the ex!triplet au!

disclaimers: swearing, angst, mentions of drugs + alcohol, allusions of cheating [ no cheating ever happened ], chris is so in love with reader

you didn’t wanna be here in some dingy kitchen, complete with a slightly (severely) outdated interior, mismatched furniture in heinous colours that didn’t pair well, tacky printed wallpaper that mirrored the weird carpeting from the hotel in the shining, every surface in the house sticky with various spilt liquids, crushed cans and solo cups crunching beneath the platform of your doc martens with every step you took, and drug paraphernalia laying around everywhere you looked. you could even spot the cocaine straws and leftover residue of the white powder on the brown countertops. truthfully, in hindsight, it was not the best setting for two kids that just got scouted and eventually contracted for some of the best college hockey teams in the state.

but still, you plastered a smile on your face and showed up, for matt and chris, despite that you and chris had broken up a couple months ago. you know and witnessed firsthand how hard they worked to get this far in their hockey careers. and this party was being thrown to celebrate and commemorate their shared dreams coming to fruition.

the air was thick with weed and cigarette smoke as you made your way through the house, your eyes and throat burning with each blink and breath. the smell of skunky ass weed alone could give anyone in attendance the worst case of cotton mouth. you fought the urge to gag at the sight of couples and people who were obviously seeing one another shotgunning smoke into each other’s mouths or even just straight up swapping spit and dry humping one another.

you knew you were being a hypocrite and a bit condescending, considering that you were in those girls’ places less than six months ago. you and chris constantly put on a heavy show of pda, not caring who was around. but as you kept pushing through the crowd of people, your best friend stopped in her tracks, turning to face you so fast you’re shocked she doesn’t get whiplash.

“chris is head of the drink table tonight.” she hums right against the shell of your ear, and you’re quick to stiffen. this is the first time you’re going to see him since the breakup, and it’s not going to be easy considering how harsh the breakup was.

“fuck, i need a drink.” you groan, trying to come up with some way to get a drink without your ex seeing you.

“i’ll get a drink for you, wait here.” she smiles, turning and walking away just as fast as before, and you didn’t even have a chance to tell her that when chris is head of the drink table, he’s quick to limit a person.

you wandered aimlessly around the equally dingy living room, the soft LED lights making your head throb slightly, and you swore could feel the thump of the bass bumping in your blood stream. you knew you needed a drink if you were going to tolerate this any longer, so you took a deep breath before turning around and pushing toward the drink table. you felt your hands begin to tremble as you got closer to seeing chris with each step. you weren’t ready, and you didn’t think you were ever going to be. the fight had been a clash of angry words and deep cutting insults thrown at one another, most of them directed at you.

you stand on the side of the drink table, opposite of chris as he talked to one his buddies, contemplating turning around and pretending you were never there, but his friend taps him on the shoulder and nods toward you, and before you could leave, chris turns around, his eyes meeting yours for a brief second before looking away, only for him to look at you again.

“yo jason grab me a fruit punch truly.” chris calls over his shoulder, and the fact that he stills know what your go to drink has your stomach churning with nostalgia and something a bit more heartbreaking.

you’re quick to take the drink from him and walk away, but he’s quicker, much quicker to tap his friend into their shift and tag along after you, he’s one step ahead of you figuratively, always has been, it’s almost as if he could tell what you were thinking before the thought fully formed in your mind. and he’s quick to catch up to you, to gently grab your arm, pulling you back to face him.

“can we talk?” the words slip out of his mouth before he can even really think about them, and your body goes rigid as you look at him, the question you wanted to avoid had finally settled into the air, thick as the smoke that hung amidst the crowd of partygoers. and you go against your internal wishes as you nod, walking behind him as he pulls you to one of the bathrooms on the top floor, and you don’t question him as he sits on the counter across from the wall you’re leaning against partially to respect his space, mostly because his cologne is intoxicating and you fear that if you sit next to him, you’ll make rash decisions that wouldn’t be fair to either if you.

after a pregnant pause coupled with him watching your face intently, he hums a simple question that hurts more than it should.

“how ya been kid?”

“i’ve been okay, just trying to push through the rest of the semester, you?” you whisper, scared to break the rather agonizing and bittersweet tenderness that clings to the atmosphere.

“i’ve been, well, if i’m being honest, i’ve been a wreck. i miss you, y/n. more than i know i should given what led to us fighting and breaking up, but i don’t want to lie to you. but it’s fuckin’ with my head, you fuck with my head.” he sighs, fiddling with the silver bracelet dangling off his wrist.

“what do you mean?”

“i’ve been benched more these last few weeks than i have in my entire life playing sports, i’ve gotten enough penalties to be threatened with suspension because i’m angry and i hurt every day and i just want to believe that this is just some fucked up dream and that it’ll finally end and i’ll wake up next to you, but it’s like i’m stuck in a loop that started the day you walked out.”

“you mean the day you told me that i’m too much for you? the day you said that you could get with any girl you want, that you almost cheated on me?” you spit, not meaning to sound so angry, but the fact of the matter is, his words killed you. they hung over you like a dark grey cloud, repeating on an infinite loop in the depths of your mind every time you doubted yourself.

“yes. and i regret those words every single second. i’m not trying to justify it, but i could feel myself cracking under the pressure from my coach, under the self inflicted pressure of wanting to prove myself to you, to prove i was still worthy of your love. i wish i had asked for space that night, it would’ve given me a chance to take a deep breath and collect my thoughts instead of spewing hateful lies your way.” he murmurs, his eyes glossing over with tears as you watch him, your own eyes stinging ever so slightly.

“chris-“

“i don’t want to be one of those pathetic guys that begs a girl for another chance after doggin’ on them but god kid, i am so in love with you, you’re the girl i wanna marry, and if i don’t sit here and beg for one more chance, i’ll hate myself until the end of time. i don’t want us to end because i fucked up when i should’ve just taken a step back, i want us to end together, in rocking chairs on our deck when we’re eighty, with grey hair and wrinkly skin.” he pleads, climbing off the counter and dropping to his knees in front of you, his arms wrapping around your hips as he presses his forehead to your stomach, and as mad as you were and as much as his words hurt, the idea of not being able to love chris or feel his love again hurt just that tiny bit more.

the idea hurt enough to make you drop down to his level, your hands cradling his face as you promise him one more chance, but on the condition that he starts communicating with you, because you don’t want to lose him permanently to something that could’ve been so easily resolved, but you also don’t want to go through another night of hearing such painful insults thrown at you by the person that’s meant to love and cherish you. so you let him in again, because you love him, and you know him, you know his heart. because sometimes loving someone, means giving them another chance to prove themselves, it means forgiving their mistakes but not excusing them, and giving them an opportunity to heal and grow from them.

[yandere-yearnings]

Do you have any book recommendations?

this is the ask that has me vv embarrassingly admitting that the last time i picked up a book was around three years ago bc we were studying it in school😭 i actually hate reading w/ a burning passion, so the list of books ive finished is small and the list of books i like enough to recommend is practically non-existent. nonnie i'm sorry i'm completely useless in this department😔💔

that being said, dostoevsky isn't everyone's cup of tea but i like his stuff so if his brand of storytelling is up your alley i'd say looking into his works wouldn't be a waste of time. crime & punishment and the idiot are some of the more notable ones (for good reason) iirc the double was my introduction to him and netochka nezvanova was never finished but the start was promising enough,, i'm not abt to make this a book review tho so i'll stop there ahaha🤧

[livinghostly]

miss me if you want to — megumi fushiguro x reader

a/n: happy late birthday pookie wc: 3.6k megumi ends up at his old middle school for a mission, and reminisces on his time there, with you. fluff/humor, happy ending, gojo being his dad self

megumi kept his hands in his pockets as he scoped the halls of urami east middle school, desperately trying to ignore the entourage of sorcerers behind him and their barrage of questions. unfortunately for megumi, nobara just discovered a commonality. (“fushiguro, let’s go beat up that guy! for old time’s sake, you know!” “kugisaki, you can’t just point to every man and ask to beat them up. we don’t know anybody here! and you can’t say old times sake if you didn't even go here, right?”)

it took all his willpower not to turn around and curse them both back to jujutsu tech, their voices burning through his ears and building an irritation in his gut. any of his old classmates who recognized him seemed to gape, just before ducking their heads and scurrying down the hall. it didn’t give him much to work with regarding the assignment. his friends giggled, poorly hiding it behind their hands.

it was hard for the nostalgia of his middle school and the presence of old peers to settle in with the constant whispering behind him, even if part of himself wasn’t sure that he wanted to reflect on his time there. he remembered the cream-colored walls and tan uniform jackets being less harsh on his eyes, every memory he could recall was hazed over with a dark grime.

the smell of freshly waxed floors and chalk dust washed over him like waves, passing his old classroom’s doors that were propped open. he could hear the muffled lessons, and wondered the last time he really used any academics from–

“fushiguro, why don’t you have anything in the trophy case?” nobara pondered, dragging her finger along the glass border.

“they’ve gotta have one for the best stink-face, right?” yuji howled with laughter. “you’d totally win!”

“can you guys get it together? we’re not going to get anywhere if you keep messing around,” megumi said, not bothering to spare them a glance. he refused to prove itadori right with his stink-face. “go walk the south corridor, there’s a few offices for the staff, they might know something.”

“fushiguro,” yuji whined. 

“go.” 

reluctantly, his friends shuffled away. “yeah, i think we kind of pushed our luck that time,” nobara mumbled.

finally, he reveled in the silence. there was a bud of anxiety in his stomach, a nagging feeling that just around the corner would be a teacher to chastise him for his history of delinquency. on the other hand, the possibility of seeing one of the many faces he had beaten and bruised.

megumi rounded the corner that led to the library and various study rooms, keeping his gaze on the windows. he remembered the landscape being different, more sullen, but still captivating him as much. he remembered his frequent trips to the library when he wasn’t spending his time rounding together the bullies and failures that infested the school.

the library wasn’t special, but he could always–

“megumi?”

megumi’s eyes widened as he whipped his head forward. the voice, though unexpected, was unmistakable in his mind. his bud of anxiety bloomed when he saw you, your head tilted in the same bewilderment. out of all places, he didn’t expect to see you at the place you graduated, just over a year ago.

the fog that coated all his memories seemed to dissipate, recollection of you clouded with a glow that couldn’t compare to the way you looked now. your school uniform was haphazard, white button up untucked and rolled to your elbows and your dark jacket was discarded on the library cart you leaned on. your confusion washed away and your face was taken up by a bright smile, and with that megumi blushed furiously.

“y/n? i didn’t expect to see you here.” he cleared his throat in an attempt to regain his composure, and closed the gap between you so all that was left in the way was the cart. you craned your neck to meet his gaze, he’d grown a bit. “don’t tell me they made you repeat.”

shaking your head, you laughed. he missed that. “you’re telling me, you’re supposed to be all the way at jujutsu tech. what are you doing here?”

“i asked you first.”

you rolled your eyes playfully. always so combative.

“i use my free period to help out here, it’s only like a five minute walk from the high school.”

megumi hummed. so you decided to stay close. it was always a toss up. 

“so, how’s jujutsu tech so far? everything you wanted and more?”

megumi smiled, recalling the day he told you that’s where he would be attending, and you found it completely ridiculous. hilarious, even. a religious school, for him? if you hadn’t met gojo before you would have thought he was sentencing megumi there as some sort of punishment for his delinquency at school. unfortunately, you had met gojo, and the idea of him teaching at a religious school and dragging megumi with him only drove you to further hysterics. 

the humor you found in all of it almost made up for the lies he was feeding you. a part of him longed for you to have some cursed energy to see all that he did, so you could understand the life he lives. maybe if you did, you would go to jujutsu tech with him, and he could share more of his life with you.

but megumi knew you were much better off without it, and without him. here, in your home environment, you were glowing. you were living a good and safe life, and he would keep it that way.

so, he fed you more white lies. kept it all vague and lighthearted so you could sleep easy. the school staff was capable, his studies were improving, and his classmates were… tolerable, at best. or so he claimed. the lighthearted jokes at their expense were always followed by a compliment on their character, you knew he was fond of them.

before he knew it, the two of you were strolling around the campus together with your shoulders glued to each other like you were back in routine. everything about being with you again was timeless. you still exaggerated with your hands and paused at the ends of your sentences to enunciate with your facial expressions, and always stayed on his left side so he didn’t have to face down the beating sun when he was looking at you. and he was always looking at you.

every once in a while, your hand brushed up against his and his movements would stutter. he would wait for some sort of reaction, though he wasn’t sure why. confirmation, that it was okay? or to see how much he could get away with. you acted as if it was nothing, and he wondered if you’d stay like that if he closed the distance and finally grasped your hand with his.

megumi had your school blazer draped over his other arm. he wasn’t much of a talker, even with you. but it seemed once you were able to get his shoulders to relax and his guard slipped a bit more, he rambled on about the more trivial things in his life. his friends– “i wouldn’t call them that” – and their endless enthusiasm. it’s like they were born yesterday, and every day in tokyo they lived like a fish out of water. they dragged him into a lot of things, but also held him back. megumi rolled his eyes when you said it was probably a good thing, since you weren’t around to do that anymore. you also weren’t very good at it.

megumi couldn’t look at you when you smiled like that, like an all-knowing entity that can see through the cracks in his image. like you knew him better than he knew himself, because in some ways you did. he looked at the ground, his shoes, and the trees, anything that couldn’t perceive the blush that ran up his neck.

“fushiguro?!”

he didn’t realize the lax in his composure until he tensed up again at the screech of his name not too far behind him. his smile dropped and he was brought back to the reality of his situation, being on a mission, scrounging for any murmurs about this curse he was meant to be hunting while dragging around two idiots with him. 

nobara and yuji were pale from shock, stiff as boards at the sight of their fushiguro cozy with some stranger. nitta was next to them, jaw agape as she stared and slithered her phone out of her pocket.

megumi’s eye twitched.

“fushiguro, is this why you sent us off to the teacher's lounge? to flirt?! with a girl?!” yuji cried, pointing an accusatory finger as he fell to his knees. the pavement cracked beneath him as he slammed his fist into the concrete in despair. 

“fushiguro, don’t tell me you’ve gone soft for some pretty girl? we’re here for business!” nobara claimed, crossing her arms.

“they’re your friends you were talking about, ‘gumi?” you hummed, looking at him. you batted your eyelashes with an amused expression. 

god, no. he couldn’t spit out the words when he was barely holding on to his composure at the nickname. these people, in the matching uniforms? never met ‘em.

a gust of wind weaved itself through your hair and yuji was at your feet, his incredible speed surprising you enough that you sidestepped right into megumi’s chest. his breath hitched, somewhere between a gasp at the sudden contact and a sigh of disappointment towards yuji’s behavior. nobara was quick behind him, her anger had dissolved into a teasing nature.

humiliation swelled in his chest and lumped in the back of his throat, in the back of his mind he was routing all the ways he could get back at yuji later for the way he was acting. 

“you told her about us?!” yuji said, his excitement warming the air around him. 

“‘course he did,” nobara smirked. “we are your best friends, aren’t we, ‘gumi?”

megumi sighed. he wouldn’t live that down. “y/n, this is itadori and kugisaki, they’re the other first years at jujutsu tech. this is y/n, we went to middle school together.”

you smiled and offered a finger wave.

“middle school, huh? and you’re still here?” nobara’s eyes sparkled. you wouldn’t admit out loud that the intensity in her grin made your stomach turn. she placed a hand on her chest dramatically, “you get in too much trouble? got held back? i understand the life–“

“you must have the funniest stories about fushiguro!” the pink-haired boy interrupted with his laughter. “did he ever–“

“i need to walk y/n back to her class before she’s late,” megumi cut him off sharply. “head back to the car and i’ll meet you there, after i get back we should get going anyway.”

without a second thought, he grabbed your arm gently and tugged you with him to turn around. you were able to call out a quick, it was nice to meet you! before you were pulled around the corner.

his steps were quicker than yours so his hand made its way to the small of your back as he ushered you to meet his pace and put the distance between you and the gawking seagulls behind him.

your heart stuttered at the contact but you didn’t stop him, and instead leaned closer to his side. that seemed to jolt some sense into him, his fingers tensing and relaxing again on the soft fabric of your uniform and ultimately deciding to stay put. that didn’t make him any less hyper-aware of it, though. he flickered gaze from you to the sidewalk, back to you, and the sidewalk again. 

“i’m sorry about them. they’re idiots sometimes,” he mumbled. “most of the time, actually.”

the path to the highschool felt oddly familiar. the trees waved gently in the wind and beckoned him back to his memories of walking you home from school, the warmth of the sunshine on his skin much the same as the warmth that sprouted in his stomach when he was around you. 

he always stood straighter when he was beside you, squeezing your hand tightly when crossing the street and tucked you under his arm when passing by anyone he deemed suspicious. which, to a young megumi who saw the world in black and white, was much of the population. in those times where his adrenaline was pumping, he never thought twice about protecting you. even against what you couldn’t see, like curses, strolling through the streets unchecked. 

“don’t apologize, ‘gumi. they seem like fun.” you chuckled, rubbing your knuckles gently. you couldn’t blame them for their reactions, nor could you blame your friend for not ever telling them about you. he was always a bit reserved. “i think they’re just excited to learn something about you.”

you had classes with him, and there were often times he would come in late with bloody knuckles and his hair tousled. most days he would tell you why, how they were smoking on school grounds or picking on someone in the cafeteria. other days he wouldn’t, he refused to even give you an idea of the things they said or did, and though it drove you crazy for a few hours you would eventually drop it. 

and he got to keep it to himself, the way other boys would talk about you. despite not knowing you, they made their assumptions and boasted about untrue speculations. rumors and comments were short-lived when he was around, and he wondered if it stayed that way after he left.

megumi carried the secret of the jujutsu world on his shoulders, all the unruly death he’d witnessed, his sister’s curse. despite the way he’d grown in the jujutsu world and how desensitized he’d become to some things, they still haunted him. he’d would’ve liked to keep something good a secret too, just for a little while longer. 

“yeah, well, i think i’d rather keep you to myself.”

“don’t tell me you’re embarrassed of me.” your teasing tone was in one ear and out the other for megumi. his tongue swelled in his throat as he tripped over his own words. you laughed, and he seemed to relax.

his hand had slipped from your back and rested between you. you found the confidence to grasp the sleeve of his uniform and keep a hold of it comfortably, watching his expression melt into a smile he couldn’t hide behind bitten cheeks.

you weren’t one to ever think you could change megumi fushiguro, though there were many times you were the one repeating in his ear to just let it go so you could go eat lunch together. (on the flip side, there were also times you were chanting his name off the sidelines watching it all unfold on your lunch period like an MMA fight). you never sought to make him a softer, more well-rounded student, nor did you ask him to ever open himself up to you.

but he did, and despite the time passed be still preened his vulnerability to you like an open wound seeking care. 

“i missed you, y/n,” megumi said suddenly. 

“those jujutsu tech kids can’t replace me, huh?”

he smiled, shaking his head. “it’s not even close.”

the roof of the highschool peaked over the trees ahead. 

“i missed you too, ‘gumi.” a question laid on the tip of your tongue, and you quickly swallowed it before it could tumble out. “do you think… that you’ll come by again? when it's not for some school project?” 

“i’m sure i could find a reason to.”

you looked up to him, meeting his amorous gaze. it was your turn to blush, scrunching up to hide the bashful smile that threatened to take over. “you have my number, you know. it hasn’t changed.”

megumi nodded. “yeah, things have been… busy, for a while now. it’s hard to get away.”

the two of you closed in on the school’s entrance, still tiptoeing the line of hand-holding. megumi faced you fully now, silent, and blocking the sun’s rays as he stared down at you with his eyes full of adoration. he looked at you like he did on graduation day– a heavy cloud of fear hanging above him, pouring down the terrifying thought he would never see you again.

“call me and tell me all about it, yeah?” 

he smirked. “i will.”

he always clung to darker clothes and aesthetics, but you thought he looked best in the sunlight. his dark hair was coated with a navy luster, similar to that of his eyes. you could see his reddening cheeks better, when there wasn’t any shade to hide them.

“thanks for walking me back,” you said, your gaze flickering around his face, soaking in his appearance while still in front of you. he had already changed so much since the last time you saw him.

“it’s not a problem, i’m happy to spend time with you.” megumi paused, reaching for the door handle with a pit in his stomach growing. “i hope i didn’t make you late.”

you smiled. “i think i’ll be okay.” 

a beat of silence passed, and your face twisted into one of concentration as you stared him down. a small sigh left your lips, one of surrender as you settled on your decision. he registered the shift in your demeanor and he narrowed his eyebrows as he observed.

you grabbed the lapel of his uniform suddenly and tugged him downward to connect his lips with yours. the initial impact softened when he registered his surroundings and relaxed, molding against your grasp and sliding his hands over the curve of your waist. relief washed over you and you ran your fingers over the nape of his neck. he paused briefly, to catch your reaction as you regained your breathing, and then nudged his nose against your cheek before kissing you again.

megumi’s breathing was quick, excitement drumming through his body as he focused on you, and only you. he never had the luxury of anticipating this, expecting such affection from you was reckless and selfish despite all the times he’d thought of it. here you were, before him, unknowingly giving in to his delicate fantasies.

you pulled away, breathless as you met his eyes. his smile was gentle, expression refrained while his admiration poured into his steel grip on you, keeping you close.

“call me, okay?” you let out a winded laugh, brushing your thumb against his flushed cheek.

megumi nodded, swallowing the desperation that clawed his throat. you stepped away, and he ached for your warmth on his skin again. he was still reeling from the interaction, helplessly watching with an emptiness in his hands as you slipped out of his grasp and opened the door for yourself. 

you disappeared, and he was left alone with the resounding click of the door. 

bonus 

“y/n! oh, they grow up so fast.” gojo cradled nitta’s phone in his hand with a wobbly lip, wiping a theatrical tear from his cheek. a fuming fushiguro was pictured with all his focus aimed towards his friends, with you awkwardly smiling at his side, completely ignorant to nitta’s rapid clicking. gojo swiped through the photos quickly, watching megumi’s mouth snap open and closed over and over. he sighed longingly, “the one who got away.” 

nobara leaned forward on her crossed legs, tensely gripping the loungeroom couch. “i knew they had history, fushiguro was totally defensive over her.”

beside her, yuji was perched on the armrest with his eyes blown wide– bearing resemblance to a gargoyle. “yeah, he got all clammy and weird. i’ve never seen him like that before.”

“well,” gojo set the phone down on the coffee table, for all to see. “megumi can be a little rough around the edges, but he’s got his moments.”

“so, what’s she really like? was she shoving people in lockers like fushiguro? i bet they were some sort of sick power couple, she seems like she’s got a dark side.”

their teacher smirked, leaning back in the armchair as he listened to their conspiracies. ‘sick power couple’ was a quite generous interpretation of your and megumi’s younger days– gojo recalled the awkward preteens you were, bumping into each other and melting into a flushed state during study nights (strictly stated by megumi not to be referred to as dates). gojo never, ever helped such situations, often making them worse with a shove or teasing comment at the boy’s expense. 

“ha! i doubt it, she was way too nice to us.”

you were moreso a bystander to megumi’s antics, sometimes a cheerleader. but it was still like you to snap, or slap, him back to his senses whenever he got all ‘high and mighty’ like some ‘reactionary douchebag’ –stated in your own eloquence. gojo remembered the times you’d unlock the front door and throw it open with one hand, dragging a frustrated megumi whose physical bruises mirrored the ones on his ego. you’d throw him to the nearest chair and welcome yourself to the apartment’s amenities while he wallowed in silence, both of you waiting for the air to settle and ignoring the presence of his guardian and his amused expression.

“man, fushiguro must be pretty bummed right now.”

the loungeroom door swung open abruptly, the door handle cementing itself in the drywall. megumi presented himself in his rage, his cursed energy fiercely blazing around him and crackling at his fingertips. his expression was dark, eyes immediately drawn to the center coffee table with nitta’s own slideshow presentation of yet another humiliating moment for him. 

nobara and yuji were struck with fear, paling in solidarity with the wallpaper. nitta quivered behind them, crouching.

gojo let out a low whistle. “someone’s going through it. don’t tell me she left you on read.”

[imagine-knowing-a-name]

A Study of Silence

Summary: Your life of married bliss is failing. A moment of heated arguing finally reveals the reason Natasha is pulling away from you, so you offer her the choice: stay or leave?

Word Count: 862

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warning: Angst

A/N: I wrote this at 1am when my flatmates set the fire alarm off, so forgive any mistakes lol. It's loosely based on 'Fluorescent Adolescent' by the Arctic Monkeys.

»»————-　★　————-««

Silence. Then the occasional turning of a page. In your mind, there are three types of silences: a comfortable silence, a suspenseful silence, and an awkward silence.

This fell firmly into the third category, but you made no move to change it - wondering instead how and when such an activity – sitting silently in your wife's presence – had turned from comfortable to awkward.

It hadn't happened just in this session: that was doomed to awkwardness from its start - but a month ago? a year ago? It was hard to recall a single moment of comfortable bliss outside of the early days of your relationship.

Everything had seemed so bright: an Avenger falling for a simple mechanic, a match made only in your dreams… though sometimes you wondered if it should ever have gone beyond that. She'd promised to quit her job for you, retire herself to deskwork upon marriage. "I want to do it," she had promised, "my love for you overshadows any job I do, and if this means I'm not spending months away from you and you're not spending months worrying, then it's an easy decision."

You swore your life to her then, showed her your love and your devotion. That love never faded. But where did it go wrong?

"My love?" you said. The redhead didn't look up from her book; you tried to see what it was, but she maintained her senses enough to shield that from your sights. With a sigh, you continued into the silence, "I was thinking maybe we could cook together tonight?"

She looked up now, fingers sightlessly marking the page. "Again? Didn't we do that..." she trailed off, searching for a memory, a recent excuse.

You finish her sentence for her: "last month? Yeah. I thought we could maybe do some bonding this month too, but nevermind."

"Y/N, we can-"

"You're clearly not interested, Nat, I'm not going to force you, so go hang out with your old Avengers buddies again and I'll make dinner alone."

There was a bite to your words that you knew you'd later regret, but in the moment you couldn't bring yourself to care. Fighting had become the only sure fire way to end the stagnant silences, and these days, neither you nor Natasha were afraid to use the method.

"You always do this," Natasha seethed, "they're my friends. I used to spend my every moment with them, living together, working together, everything! And I gave that up for you! You want me to give up even seeing them too? Would that finally be enough?!"

The silence fell again. A fourth type: one of contemplating, one of heated feelings and unwitting confessions and, finally, understanding. You understood. In her anger, Natasha had revealed the secret to it all, where it had all gone wrong.

You softened your voice, speaking quietly as if your wife were an injured animal, easy to startle. "I didn't make you give that up. I don't want you to give up more and I don't want you to blame me for your choices."

She stayed silent, though her jaw tightened and her eyes focused on a point behind you. You didn't have to turn to remember which picture lies there.

"I love you, Natasha," you confessed again, knowing it could be a last confession. "I love you and I want only the best for you. And if you miss the superhero days, the risk, the team, everything... if leaving that and marrying me is the mistake that's making you miserable, then I'm giving you the chance to undo that mistake. I don't want to be the reason you live your life in nostalgia and regret."

You didn't wait for her to respond, what was the point? Her gaze was still fixed on the picture behind you: the team in its heyday, when they were still young and wild and disorganised. She clang to until she got sentimental, forgetting that you had been the one to take the photo, right before Natasha became the first of the group to settle down.

Her response would come soon enough, you knew, so you went to your room and waited. You hoped for the eventual knock on the door, the long awaited conversation, then either the forgiveness or the conclusion. You hoped all through the evening, even as you cooked by yourself, ate by yourself, and slept by yourself.

A night with the Avengers might have been what she needed to make her decision.

Natasha Romanoff came into your life with a burning passion and a humanity to her that few people could ever achieve. You expected it to last forever, but come morning you realised the truth: Natasha Romanoff was a spy born and raised, and no amount of humanity can ever erase that from her.

Her ring was on your bedside table in the morning, the house left in a state of suspended silence. Natasha herself was nowhere to be found, disappearing like a spy, with no words spoken on the matter.

She had made her choice, just as you had made yours.

You loved Natasha too much to keep her; she loved you too little to stay.

»»————-　★　————-««

taglist: @canvascoloredin

[focusonkayjay]

between the ride and the roses (1)

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: biker/ motorcycle shop owner! jungkook x flower shop owner! reader, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, slow burn, angst, smut, fluff

Word count: 2.8k

Series summary: There's an insane turn of events when your calm and peaceful life is intruded by Jungkook, a biker boy who sets up his loud business right next to your own. Your paths cross under unlikely circumstances, starting with a clash of personalities but gradually you find yourself establishing a deeper connection with the annoyingly attractive biker jerk. You both have no idea what's in store for you guys as you try your best to put up with each other.

Chapter Warnings: jungkook is kind of an annoying jerk in the beginning, but we still love him. as of now, i have no warnings, but i will mention them when necessary as the series goes on.

A/N: hello, welcome to my very first series. i've been reading fics for as long as i can remember and i've always wanted to start a blog of my own. please read through this and let me know if this story is worth continuing <3

my blog is still "work in progress" and i have many ideas and plans that i wanna give life to, so please stay tuned. your opinions, constructive criticism and suggestions are always welcome.

thank you.

part 1: throttle and stem

The quiet hum of the early morning filled your flower shop as you stood by your workbench, your hands deftly arranging a vibrant bouquet of stargazer lilies, queen of the night blossoms, and delicate sprigs of baby’s breath. As you tied off the bouquet with a soft ribbon, you pulled your phone from the pocket of your apron, glancing at the screen.

"8:09 am."

You sighed to yourself, shaking off the early morning grogginess that still clung to your mind. The air around you was sweet with the mingling fragrances of the flowers, an invisible balm for the weariness you hadn’t quite shaken.

The shop was your sanctuary. Its walls were adorned with climbing vines that had been lovingly nurtured over the years, and its shelves were lined with terracotta pots of miniature bonsais, fiddle-leaf figs, and succulent terrariums. It wasn’t just a workspace… it was your rhythm, your peace. Here, surrounded by blooms and greenery, the world felt like it moved just a little slower.

You turned towards the bay window, where golden sunlight poured in, illuminating an assortment of hydrangeas and snapdragons on display. It was the kind of morning you cherished… peaceful, predictable, and entirely yours to savor.

Shifting closer to the window, your gaze naturally drifted to the storefront beside yours. The faded "For Rent" sign, hanging crookedly in the glass, caught your eye like always. Ever since Mrs. Lee shut down her cozy little bakery and moved away with her husband, the space had remained lifeless, the once-welcoming aroma of fresh pastries replaced by silence and dust.

You couldn’t help but feel a pang of nostalgia as you remembered the way the scent of freshly baked bread and cinnamon rolls used to drift into your shop every morning. Now, the vacant building had become an eyesore you had grown used to ignoring… a dull, empty reminder of what had once been.

Turning away from the window, you wandered through your shop, watering the orchids in their clay pots and adjusting the arrangement of lavender sprigs by the counter. You opened sharp at 9, but these quiet moments before customers arrived were your favorite. It was a time to bask in the stillness, to let the beauty of your flowers fill every corner of your mind.

You settled back at your workbench, pulling another bundle of roses and eucalyptus stems from the cooler. Your hands moved automatically as your thoughts wandered, appreciating the rare silence that surrounded you. Most of the shops on your street wouldn’t open for another hour, leaving the block in a peaceful lull.

The quiet wasn’t just comforting, it was necessary. It was the space where you could breathe, think, and just be.

And just when you were basking in the silence you oh so appreciated, your train of thoughts are harshly interrupted by a sharp growl that tore through the air, so ridiculously loud that it startled you into dropping the shears you were grasping in your hand. The noise grew louder, rising and falling with an almost deafening rhythm. Engines revved outside, followed by the sharp, repetitive beeping of trucks reversing.

Frowning, you stepped towards the window, peeking out from behind a display of yellow roses. Two enormous moving trucks had pulled up in front of the vacant building, their engines rumbling as a group of workers began hauling furniture and equipment onto the sidewalk.

Your chest tightened as you took in the scene: huge wooden crates, motorcycle frames, and oversized toolboxes haphazardly scattered across the pavement.

The stillness you were treasuring just a minute ago was shattered in less than a second by the disgusting sound of chaos arriving at your doorstep.

Still confused, your eyes suddenly fall on the huge stack of oversized toolboxes placed on the sidewalk, partially blocking the entrance to your shop. You scoffed, your mind unable to wrap itself around this bizarre situation.

Before you could fully process what exactly was happening, your feet carried you towards the front door of your shop and you stepped outside, breathing heavily. “Hey!” you called out, trying to dodge around a burly man carrying a huge box labeled FRAGILE. “What’s going on here?” you question, still looking around, trying to take in the state of your surroundings.

The closest person to you wasn’t a mover or a worker. You could easily conclude that just by the way he was leaning lazily against one of the trucks, scrolling through his phone as if oblivious to the commotion. A thick leather jacket, adorned with intricate patches and scratches that told untold stories rested on his left shoulder.

Tattoos crawled up his toned forearms, disappearing under the ripped sleeves of his black t-shirt. A loose silver chain around his neck glinted as he shifted his weight, and when he glanced up, his dark eyes locked onto yours with a mix of curiosity and disinterest.

"What's going on here?" you ask again, this time trying to sound as civil as possible. Your fists are balled and you regulate your breathing as you observe the man in front of you. “Moving in.” he simply answers, his voice smooth but laced with indifference. “What’s it look like to you?”

You blinked, momentarily thrown by his audacity. You're generally a calm person, that is, until someone provokes you in the weirdest ways. “It looks like you’re turning the sidewalk into an obstacle course.” you snapped, unable to remain civil like you had previously planned. “My customers won’t be able to get into my shop!” you added.

His lips curved into a faint smirk, the kind that instantly made you think, this was someone you would never get along with. “What customers?” He chuckles, glancing theatrically up and down the empty street before meeting your gaze again.

Your blood boiled as you heard him mock you. “Excuse me?” He stepped closer, the faint scent of leather and motor oil lingering in the air between you. “Relax, sweetheart. We’ll keep it tidy. Don’t get your roses in a twist.” he says, eyeing a bouquet he was able to spot through the window of your store.

You bristled. “First of all, don’t call me sweetheart. Second, those are lilies, NOT roses.” You jabbed a finger towards the bouquet in the window. “And third, I don’t need your promises. I need you to move your chaos somewhere else and not disturb my business!”

He tilted his head, clearly amused. “You really care about those flowers, huh?” he asks. You can easily tell he thinks nothing of your business. “Of course, I do! Unlike some people, I actually respect my work and the space around me.” you argue.

The man rolls his eyes, and that only drives you more mad. His nonchalance and his lack of empathy itches your brain the wrong way. “Whatever.” he casually shrugs, turning away as he hears one of the men call out to him. “Jeon, where do you want the bike stand?”

Jeon? You realize that's probably his surname. “Right here.” he replies, pointing towards the storefront. Without sparing you another glance, he strode over, his gait relaxed and confident, as if he hadn’t just ruined your morning.

You stood there, fists clenched, watching as the chaos unfolded further. The reality hit you hard—the quiet, vacant space beside your shop was no longer empty. It was now home to this infuriating, leather-clad biker who had just walked into your life like a hurricane. And somehow, you knew, your peaceful little flower shop would never be the same.

//

The rest of the morning passes in a haze of irritation. Every time you tried to return to your flowers and reclaim the peace you once cherished, another burst of loud noise would jolt you out of focus. The metallic clang of tools, the rumble of engines being tested, and the shouts of movers unloading endless boxes were relentless. Even the cheerful chime of your shop door opening, signaling the arrival of your first customer, couldn’t lift your mood entirely.

“Busy morning out there, huh?” Mrs. Park, one of your long-time regulars, quipped as she admired a bouquet of tulips on display. You forced a smile, standing up from your workbench. “You could say that.” you answered, looking back at the window that gave you a view of the happenings next door

She chuckled, picking up a small pot of baby succulents. “Looks like someone’s finally opening a business there. Hopefully, it’s something good and the owner is nice. I miss Mrs. Lee’s bakery, though. Her strawberry tarts were divine.” she says, walking towards the counter with the pot she had just picked out.

You bit back a sarcastic retort about how this newcomer was something way from from “nice” and nodded instead. “I miss her too. But yeah, we'll just have to wait and see what the new business is going to be about.” you sigh.

//

By the time the clock struck noon, the chaos outside had died down enough for you to risk stepping out again. Boxes had been cleared from the sidewalk, though a few crates still lingered near the entrance of your shop, their presence a glaring reminder of the morning’s disruption.

You spotted him immediately—Jeon. He was crouched next to a sleek black motorcycle, his hands busy adjusting something near the engine. A few workers milled around, chatting, but this man seemed entirely absorbed in his work.

You purse your lips and stepped back on the sidewalk to get a better view of the building. The sign "Throttle and Torque" hung up high, right beside yours that read "Garden's Grace."

You look back down at the man, who still seemed so immersed in whatever the heck he was doing. Against your better judgment, you marched over, fueled by lingering frustration. “Excuse me.” you say, waiting for him to respond. He didn’t look up. You stepped closer, crossing your arms as you tapped your foot impatiently. “Excuse me!” you snap.

This time, he glanced up, wiping his hands on a rag before standing to his full height. Up close, he was even more infuriatingly confident, his dark eyes glinting which barely concealed any sort amusement. “What?” he asked, completely unbothered. You gestured towards the lingering crates. “Your stuff is still blocking part of my entrance.” you reply, trying your level best to keep your voice at a respectable volume.

He glanced at the crates, then back at you. “Looks fine to me.” he shrugs. “It’s not fine. It’s in the way.” you argue, fighting the urge to just run and kick the crates away from your entrance. His lips curved into that maddening smirk again. “You’re really particular about your space, huh?”

“Unlike some people…” you pause, taking a deep breath “I respect boundaries.” you state. He chuckled, the sound low and infuriatingly casual. “Alright, alright. I’ll move them. Don’t blow a gasket, sweetheart.” he says causing you to roll your eyes at the nickname but you bite your tongue, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing you lose your temper again.

As he turned to call out to one of the workers, you noticed something—a small, intricately designed patch sewn onto the back of his leather jacket that he was wearing. It depicted a phoenix rising from flames, the design bold and vibrant against the black leather.

Shaking yourself out of the observation you had just made, you look around and finally question him. "What exactly is your business?"

He doesn't answer, still busy with the worker as he guides him on where to place the crates. But as you stood there by yourself, you feel the realization dawning on you as you took in the scattered parts and tools. "Is this a motorcycle shop?" you ask again. He glanced over his shoulder, finally nodding. “Custom bikes. Repairs. The works.” he answers, his tone still the same, low and unbothered.

Of course. The universe had gifted you a neighbor who was the exact opposite of everything your flower shop represented—loud, chaotic, and disruptive. “Just great.” you muttered under your breath, feeling yourself get a headache as you imagine the wild things that you will have to go through with a store like this right beside yours.

“Something to say?” he teases, as he looks at you, finally taking in your appearance. His eyes roamed over you for a moment, his gaze lingering on the effortless beauty you carried. There was something captivating about the way your long, dark hair framed your face, the sunlight catching in the waves and adding a soft halo around you. The earthy tones of your apron only highlighted the warm glow of your skin, and the faint blush on your cheeks gave you an endearing, almost ethereal charm.

You don't say anything and just stand there, trying your best to stay calm. "I'm Jungkook, by the way." you hear him say. You bite the inside of your cheek, not wanting to introduce yourself to him, but you think that might be a little immature. "Y/n." you simply say, avoiding his eyes.

"Didn’t realize such a pretty flower came with so many thorns." he comments, his smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he crosses his arms, observing the way you tried so hard not to throw hands. You rolled your eyes, brushing off his comment. “Didn’t realize bikers had this much trouble respecting other people’s businesses.” you retorted, matching his tone.

Jungkook chuckled, clearly unfazed. He leaned against the wall beside him, his dark eyes gleaming with something between amusement and challenge. “Well, sweetheart, I guess we’re stuck with each other now. Might as well get used to it.” he says, almost like he's challenging you.

You huffed at that stupid nickname again, your fingers tightening around the hem of your apron. “I would REALLY appreciate if you wouldn't call me sweetheart." you pause, slightly stepping forward. "And for the record, being neighbors doesn’t mean I have to put up with your... chaos. My shop values tranquility, something your—” you pause again to gesture towards the motorcycles and tools scattered around, “whole vibe seems to be allergic to.”

Jungkook tilts his head, pretending to consider your words, though the teasing smirk never leaves his features. “Tranquility, huh?” he echoes, his tone mocking. “I can see why you’d like things quiet in there.” His eyes flicked toward your shop window, where the vibrant display of flowers created a stark contrast to the metal and oil-laden aesthetic of his business.

You cross your arms, as you firmly stand your ground. “Exactly. Garden’s Grace is a place where people come to find peace and beauty. Something your Throttle and Torque doesn’t exactly scream.”

He snorted, looking genuinely amused for the first time. “Peace and beauty. Cute. I’m more about the adrenaline and grit side of life. Opposites, huh?” You frowned, refusing to let him get under your skin. “Maybe opposites, but that doesn’t mean you have to make my life miserable.” you said, glancing pointedly at the workers still unloading equipment nearby.

“Alright, alright.” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll make sure my guys clear out your entrance. We wouldn’t want to scare off all those peace-seekers now, would we?” he says, in a tone that irks something ugly inside of you.

You narrowed your eyes, trying to come up with something but you know it would be of no use to argue with someone like him. “Thank you.” you breathe out curtly, turning on your heel to head back to your shop, not wanting to deal with him anymore because you clearly had a business to get back to.

“By the way…” he suddenly calls out, stopping you in your tracks. You turn over your shoulder with a brow raised. “Those flowers in your display…” he said, jerking his chin towards the window. “Whatever they're called... they’re pretty. You’ve got an eye for detail and beauty.” he admits.

The unexpected compliment threw you off guard, and for a moment, you couldn’t find a snappy comeback. Instead, you muttered a soft, “Thanks.” before disappearing into the safety of your shop.

Inside, your heart thudded a little harder than you cared to admit. You shook your head, pushing the moment aside. “Nope, not falling for that.” you mumble to yourself, bringing your focus back on the vibrant bouquet in your hands.

From the corner of your eye, you glanced out the window one last time. Jungkook had gone back to his motorcycle, but there was a faint smile on his face now, one that didn’t carry the same teasing edge as before.

You sighed and shook your head, determined to forget the way it made your stomach flutter. "It’s just day one..." you reminded yourself. "I can survive this." you affirm.

Little did you know, this was only the beginning of a storm neither of you saw coming.

part 2 ->

series masterlist

[d3wdropz]

Does Princess Wanna Fuck? Toji Fushiguro Smut

a/n: I am shocked yet not shocked this man won the poll- I'm kind of nervous but here we go

i'm so shocked how big this fic is- sorry it took so long, finals were kicking my ass

plz be kind this is my first large fic

pairing: bodyguard! toji fushiguro x reader

word count: 5.1 K

summary: your mother, a very rich and influential woman, gets on the wrong side of some dangerous people. To ensure your safety, she hires the best protection money can buy: the Sorcerer killer. You're happy to have the support, you just didn't think he'd be this hot.

content warning: fem!reader, not virgin! reader, pet names (princess, pretty, doll, sweetie), swearing, porn with plot, age gap (toji is 30 something, reader is early 20s), alcohol, p in v, dirty talk, fingering, oral (male and female receiving), rough fucking, no protection, creampie, doggystyle, kind of mean! toji, bratty! reader, a few spanks, degradation (slut), no strings attached, no aftercare, hopefully that's it

Thank you @benkeibear for the great banner once again!

"I promise, sweetie, nothing bad is going to happen. I have my own personal team looking after me, we all just thought it would be safer for you to stay away."

You were sitting on your bed, listening to the voicemail your mother had left for you. It came as no surprise that she was on the radar of some shady people. Your mother climbed her way out of poverty and became one of the richest people in the city.

Ever since you were a child, you knew the methods she used weren't very legal. This came in the form of strangers coming in and out of your house constantly, the long and far away trips she'd take for 'work', and the items and rooms you were never allowed near. The people you saw as a child always ended up on the news, both arrested and murdered. The trips she took would often mean you wouldn't see her for upwards of a year, with no way to contact her so her location would remain secret. The locked doors and mysterious duffel bags were the biggest give away.

There was a time when you were eight and curious. You wanted to know what was so important about some stupid locked box. Your mother was away on one of her 'work trips' again, so she'd never know. When you were finally able to unlock it, you found it full of expensive and shiny jewelry. If it weren't for the news showing a picture of the same accessories- only this time the reporter was asking for tips on finding the stolen gems- you would have likely played with them.

No matter the means, your mom provided and loved you. Her job was paying for the expensive house you were sitting in right now, the newest phone model you were holding in your hand. You accepted your mom's life choices, going as far as to lie for her when people got too curious.

But right now was different. Never before did your mother's work involve you, let alone threaten to kill and dismember you. As soon as your mother received the threatening text, she had half her team escorting you out of your apartment and back home.

That was almost a full week ago and since then you hadn't been allowed outside of the building. Your mother was currently at her 'office', with the rest of her bodyguards and team looking for the guy.

You focus back on the message just in time to hear her final words, "I know you hate being cooped up inside the house, and if I'm being honest those men I sent are amateurs. I've hired the best hitman to look after you, you'll even be able to go back to your apartment. He's the best in the business. Anyway, I love you so much, baby, be safe. I'll call you when things have calmed down."

You delete the message as soon as it's over, sighing and looking around the room. You haven't been here in ages, not since you left for college and started staying in your one-bedroom apartment. Whatever nostalgia you were starting to feel disappeared when you heard a light knock on the door.

"Miss," it was one of your mom's team members, "The new guy is here to escort you out."

Standing up from the bed, you walked over to the door and opened it just enough to see the guy's face, "Okay, tell him I'll be down there in a minute. I need to pack up my stuff."

Packing was easy enough, you didn't have any time to pack the day the team swept you away so the only thing you carried down the stairs with you was a small backpack.

As you made your way down the winding staircase, you could hear an unfamiliar voice having a one-way conversation with the serious guards at the door. It was playful and some how laid back, something you weren't used to when it came to people your mom worked with.

When you made it to the bottom, your eyes met pools of deep green. The chatter stopped as the stranger faced you with a satisfied smirk, "So this must be little miss princess, huh?"

A mixture of annoyance and embarrassment bubbled in your stomach as you clutched the straps of your bag, "And you're the famous 'hitman' my mom told me about? I expected someone more professional."

In all honesty, it wasn't your best jab. Just something you made up on the spot in an attempt to knock him down a peg.

It only served as amusement, though, as he chuckled and looked you up and down, " 'Don't need to be professional to be good in my line of work, princess," noticing the slight pout on your lips, his smirk melted into a soft smile as he nodded, "but you were right, I've been paid a lot to keep you alive, even more if I find the guy."

One of the other guards grabs your bag as they begin to lead you to the black car outside. While walking, you turn your head toward the stranger, "Now how are you gonna protect me and catch the guy? I don't really like the idea of you half-assing a job that involves my life."

Another smooth chuckle leaves his scarred lips as he hops into the back seat of the car with you, "Oh, you are gonna be fun to work with, princess."

The princess thing was starting to get on your nerves, now. No other guard or person affiliated with your mother treated you like this. At best, they respected you; at worst, they coward at the sight of you.

"I have a name, u'know. If my mom is gonna pay you, you might as well learn it," you huff and turn your body away from him.

The man crosses his legs lazily and grabs one of the mini bottles of alcohol from the side door, "Trust me, princess, I know a lot more than you think. I know you're a snooty, little brat who still doesn't know the name of the person holding her life in his hands."

At the mention- or threat- of knowing too much information for comfort, you turn just enough to peak at him from the corner of your eye. Instead of using your words, you raised a brow and waited for an answer.

He took his sweet time giving it, too. He finished the alcohol in one gulp and wiped his mouth on his bare arm. The muscles flexed as he brought his arm and up, catching your eye just long enough for him to notice.

He finally looked into your eyes again with a cocky smile, "Toji- and that's all you need to know."

You tried to keep eye contact, tried to assert your strength and maturity. But it was a losing game, the thoughts racing in your head kept you from looking into Toji's eyes any longer.

Out of all the things going through your head, one stuck out the most: this asshole's hot as fuck.

~ ~ ~

It's been about a week since your mother hired Toji to be your guard dog, and you hate to say it, but he's very good at his job.

The first few days left you nervous and doubtful of his abilities as he waved you off to 'do your shit'. He said that you could go about your day like normal, that you'd be safe no matter where you were.

This was nothing like the last week you'd just had. Instead of one guy keeping watch in the shadows, you had a whole teams worth of people just watching you laze around your house. You had to admit, it felt refreshing to get back to your life. And it turns out, Toji wasn't lying.

During all of your outings, you were safe as can be. After a bit of questioning, he told you that while you did your thing, he was watching your every move. While a part of you was upset that you would be lacking in privacy, another was happy in the fact that you likely have never been in safer hands.

Even while at home, Toji doesn't intrude. He does his thing and leaves you alone. This could be rummaging and eating the food in your fridge, or sitting shirtless on your couch as he waited to sleep.

He's made a comfortable little bed on the living room couch. Your apartment, while beautifully furnished and on the top floor, didn't have more than one bedroom. As soon as you both walked through the door, you made it clear you would not be giving your room up for him.

If you could sum it up in one word, you'd say you were content.

That is, until Toji gets ready for bed. You're proud to say that you're no bashful virgin, you've slept with a few guys. But none of them were as hot as the man sitting before you.

You're ashamed to say that you've spent more time staring at his abs than the cliche action movie playing on the TV. You're also ashamed to say that you've wanted to fuck him since that moment in the car.

Throughout the week, you've tried to get closer to Toji. Not for the sake of a connection, but to see if you had any shot at getting with him for one night. To his credit, in this regard he is professional. You've learned nothing about him but his name, you didn't even know his full name.

In an effort to make some sort of progress, you mentioned having a movie night. He didn't really have the option to say no as your full-screen TV with surround sound was in the living room. Just to sweeten the deal, you offered to get drinks and takeout- which worked in your favor as you both make your way through the bottle of vodka and a pack of beer.

"Okay, kid, I know I said you could pick the movie- but come on, this movie is horseshit," Toji grabbed the remote from your hands and finished off the can of beer in one chug.

You knew the movie sucked, choosing it because of that reason. When has anyone ever gotten fucked with a decent movie in the background? The point was for you and him to talk, not genuinely watch the film. You were running out of options and sober thought quicker than you'd like to admit.

Steeling your nerves, you finished off your drink as well and poured yourself another, stronger one, "Well, it's my TV so before you turn anything on I want I know what it is first."

He chuckled and clicked through the options, landing on a classic slasher. Toji tilted his head at the screen, black hair falling into his eyes, "This good enough for the little princess?"

"Fine, but you need to tell me why you keep calling me 'princess', it's really pissing me off," you titled your head to meet his gaze, hoping he couldn't see the blush forming on your cheeks.

Toji crossed his legs and leaned his back against the couch, laying his arms against the head rest. "You really don't know, do ya?"

The bored expression on your face was a good enough answer as he itched the back of his neck and closed his eyes, "Geez. . . I shouldn't be telling you this but maybe it'll knock you down a peg," you leaned forward, eager to finally get some kind of information from him. "Your mom is a powerful lady. Everyone in . . . my line of work knows about her," he points his finger at you and grins, "which means, everyone knows about you. People think of you as a prissy little princess that doesn't know anything about the real world."

All of the confidence you had dissipated during his explanation, fueling you to drink more and more vodka until your cheeks flushed. You were smart, you knew your limits- and right now you were there. If you continued like this, you'd be drunk and all your efforts would be for not.

With a huff, you point your own finger at him, "I am not a prissy little princess. I know what my mom does! I know about the real world, I'm not some spoiled little kid."

"Oh- if you know about how your mom paid for your life of luxury, tell me. Cause I sure as hell would love to hear about all the info you've got," to further irritate you- or turn you on, you're not sure- he uncrosses his legs to spread them as he leans against his knees.

At this, you sputter, look to the ground, anywhere but his eyes and crotch. You'd officially dug yourself a hole. You didn't want to know about what your mom did, it would solidify in your mind that she's a criminal. Something you didn't want to accept was that the woman who loves and raised you might not be a good person.

Toji chuckles and opens another can of beer at your silence, "Feels nice to be right."

You groan and cross your arms, "Fine! I don't know what my mom does- I don't even wanna know!" you finally meet his eyes, trying so hard not to stutter when you see the sheer amusement swimming in his head. "But I am not a prissy princess!"

For once, Toji breaks eye contact first to roll his, "Listen, kid, I've only been with you for a week, but I know a brat when I see one," you hope it's not your imagination when you see him lean towards you, looking you up and down, "and you, Y/n, are spoiled rotten. Bet no one's ever said no to you before. Never made you say 'please'. "

The warm tinge in your cheeks is uncontrollable now as you feel yourself getting wet, "You're not my dad- okay? I know manners, you just don't deserve them-"

In the blink of an eye Toji makes his way over to you, putting his hand against the head rest and smirking down at you, "Oh, sweetheart, those aren't the kind of manners I'm talkin' about," he leans down to your level, so close you smell the alcohol on his breath.

"I see the way you look at me, it's so fucking obvious," his voice is barely above a whisper but it's leaving you hot and bothered in your seat, "Bet you were waiting for me to drop everything and beg for a fuck, right? You'd want me to do all the work while you just lay there and act like a little pillow princess."

At his words, you try and look to the ground in hopes of calming your racing heart. This attempt ends in Toji gripping your chin harshly and forcing you to look at him again, "If you really wanna fuck, cutie, then I'm gonna need you to be a good little girl. You think you can do that?"

The throbbing in your cunt is unbearable and you're desperate for any kind of action, so you eagerly nod your head. In response, Toji digs his fingers into your chin, "Use your words, slut."

All inhibition flew out of your body as you pouted, "Yes, yes please. I can be a good girl."

Satisfied, Toji let go of your face and stood up straight, "Prove it. I'm gonna clean up in here and by the time I'm done you better be nice and ready for me."

You're in your room in an instant, throwing off your pajama shorts and shirt. Your heart's racing as you lay down on the bed and reach your arm down to your aching cunt. It's been forever since you've gotten off, two weeks ago you were so stressed it didn't feel right. This week, you were hoping the wait would be worth it.

By how sensitive you are, you're happy you waited.

The simple ghosting of your fingers over your clothed clit has you biting your lip. You couldn't draw this out, though, Toji made a demand and if you wanted to be fucked you'd follow it.

Slipping your hand underneath the green, laced panties, you rubbed at your clit. Just a few circles was enough preparation as you slipped in a finger and tried rubbing at that spongey, deep, spot.

A whine slipped past your lips as your finger just barely reached your pleasure point. You were so close, you just needed a push. Letting the laced bra-strap fall off your shoulder, you pinched and rubbed at your hardened nipple. Hoping and begging for some kind of stimulation to get you over the edge.

Your whimpers and curses stopped as soon as you felt two calloused hands spread your knees.

"Can't even get yourself off, can you, princess?" Toji's grin was prideful as he admired your choice of clothing. He tsked and wrapped his hands around the straps of your panties, "Don't think some sexy lingerie is gonna save you, I told you to get prepped."

In one swift motion, he pulled down your underwear and threw them behind me. Toji climbed onto the bed, leaning back on his knees between your legs as he lazily stroked your clit, "maybe you aren't a good girl after all?"

At this, you sat up on your elbows and looked at him through your lashes, "I am! I promise I tried," you put all of your weight onto one arm as you used the other to rub at the bulge in his sweat pants. To avoid his gaze, you opted to stare at his abs.

You couldn't help but bite your lip from the excitement, "I just need your help, please, can't cum without you."

His mouth was clamped shut as you caressed his dick threw his pants, which you noticed were the only thing covering his manhood. His brows knitted together as he rolled his head on his shoulders, closing his eyes.

A small, deep laugh left his throat as he reopened his eyes, "You want my help, princess? Earn it, show me how grateful you are and suck my dick."

You didn't need to be told twice as you quickly lowered the waistband of his sweats and freed his cock. Drool pooled in your mouth as you studied his member. It was thick and curved, a nice seven inches with a mushroom tip you knew would hit just the right places.

Toji carefully put his hand on the back of your head, "Don't tell me you're backing out now, doll."

With your ego stroked and a need for praise, you shake your head and spit into your palm. Leaning against his clothed thigh, you wrapped your hand around his cock and gave him a few pumps. "No, just think you cock's pretty."

The hand on your head softly massaged your scalp in response as he let out a breathy chuckle, "Thanks, cutie, but how about you get to showing me that appreciation."

Taking the hint, you put both hands to work as you move them back and forth, adding in twists and some pressure when getting close to the base. You look up at Toji and are happy to see him closing his eyes in concentration as he bites his lip.

You decide now is the perfect time to bump it up a notch and wrap your lips around the tip. You suck on it and speed up your hand movement until you slowly suck on more of his cock. When you're finally able to fit it all in, you hollow out your cheeks and gently cup his balls. More heat floods your cunt when you hear Toji let out a groan and tighten his grip on your head.

"Fuck- just like that, princess," he runs a hand through his hair and struggles to hold in a moan as you pull your mouth up to the tip and tongue at the slit. Your hands go back to his cock as you squeeze and pump. When you hear him breathe faster, you go back to sucking him, bobbing your head up and down now.

It doesn't take long for this changing of tactic to have Toji bucking his hips up into your face. He's close, you can tell. At this point, you don't care if he cums down your throat, he'll probably be ready for more within five minutes.

Toji has other plans, though, as he pushes you off of his cock and onto your back, "Shit, doll, gonna ruin the fun." He repositions himself so that he's laying between your spread thighs, hands holding them tight against the sides of his head.

" 'think that deserves a reward," he dives his head down to your cunt, halting before he touches you. His emerald eyes peer up at you through raven locks as he speaks, "you better not cum, princess."

You nod and stroke his hair, gasping when he shuts his mouth against your pussy and starts sucking on your clit. It feels amazing, his fingers prod at your opening before plunging in and starting an unforgiving pace.

The hands in his hair pull him closer as you arch your back off of the bed. The neighbors probably can hear your loud and porno-grade moans, but you don't care. Toji's reaching all the places you couldn't and it's sending you to paradise.

"Ah! Toji- oh fuck- Toji! 'Gonna cum! I'm so close- fuck!" there are tears brimming your eyes from the pleasure as you start to clench around his fingers. You're so close, it feels so good.

You cry out when Toji pulls away, sucking his fingers clean as he stands up just long enough to takes off his pants, "Don't worry, doll, not leavin' you, just getting us more comfortable."

Panting and whimpers are the only sounds you can make as he unclasps the laced bra you wore and turns you onto your stomach.

"Think you can hold yourself up?" Toji's behind you, holding your hips firmly as he rubs the head of his cock between your folds.

You buck back against him, hoping to get some attention to your clit. As you register the question you lift yourself onto your elbows and nod, shaking your ass in excitement, "please, Toji, need you to fuck me so bad. Need to cum on your cock."

His nails dig into the flesh of your hips as he snaps his own forward. In one swift motion, Toji bullies his cock into your dripping cunt. You let out a squeal, almost letting your face fall into the pillows. His mouth falls open in a silent groan, letting his head fall forward as he looked down.

"Shit baby. . ." Toji breathes out and pulls his hips back slowly, savoring the view of his dick soaked in your juices. Just the tip was left snug in your cunt, leaving you wanting more.

"Ah! Toji- put it back! Please," you begged and tried to move back into him, only to be stopped by a sharp slap to your ass. You yelped, arms finally giving out as you face-planted into the pillows.

Toji 'tsked', massaging and gripping the reddened skin, "You better be patient, princess, or you're not gonna cum tonight."

With that, he sank back into you and repeated the movement. His pace was slow and agonizing, thrusts shallow and teasing. Tears formed in your eyes again at the lack of stimulation. You could feel the veins and ridges of his cock slide against you, but he wasn't hitting deep enough, wasn't going fast enough to send you over the edge.

On the other hand, Toji was enjoying himself. He was savoring the way your pussy clenched around him, pulling him in every time he pulled out. If he was being honest, all he wanted to do was grip your head, force your face deeper into those silk pillows, and pound into your cunt until you creamed. Not yet, though, Toji needed to teach you some manners; only good girls get to cum and cry on his cock.

His hands spread your cheeks apart to watch you clench around him. A hiss came from his scarred and bitten lips as he stayed still inside you, feeling you squeeze his dick just right. Toji let out a breathy chuckle as he wrapped his arms around your waist and leaned his chest onto your back.

" 'think you've been a good girl for me," one of his arms made its way around your throat, pulling you up against his chest as he thrust into you, hard. His head was nestled into your neck, biting and leaving dark purple marks, "better not hold out on me, princess, wanna hear how good I fuck this little cunny."

That was all the warning you got as Toji started pistoning his hips into yours, using his grip to slam your body into his thrusts. Tears of pleasure rolled down your face as your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

It felt so good, the way his dick was slamming into your soft spot over-and-over. Toji was sending you closer and closer to your orgasm, faster than you expected.

"Oh shit! Toji- feels so fucking good! Ah- right there! Fuck! Right there!" You didn't care about the cries and moans coming out of your mouth. You didn't have the energy or focus when the only thing you could think about was how this was possibly the greatest fuck of your life.

You felt a rough hand snake its way between your thighs, starting to draw hard circles into your bundle of nerves. You let out a loud whine, head falling back and leaning against Toji's shoulder, now covered in a thin layer of sweat.

His arm dropped from your throat, finding purchase in groping your boobs. "That's it, princess, cum for me," his voice was low and gravely, desperate to feel you squeeze and milk him for all he's worth.

Finally gaining some sense, you gripped his wrist, trying to pull him away from your clit. You whined and felt your legs begin to shake, "Toji! Wait- gonna cum- gonna cum!" It was all building too fast, too intense. A part of you thought you might pass out when you reached your peak.

He chuckled and rubbed faster at your nub, bending you over and pressing his upper body into your back. It left you trapped beneath him, and gave Toji a better angle to fuck into you. At this point, it felt like he was hitting against your cervix.

"Come on, pretty, don't hold back" his thrusts sped up as his head dipped into your shoulder. You could hear his heavy breaths and low grunts before you felt him lick at the shell of your ear. "Show me what a good girl you are and cum."

Toji's words were all you needed to fly over the edge. A numbness washed over your sweat-soaked body, being replaced with unbelievable pleasure within a half a second. Your loud, high pitched moans filled the room, drowning out the sound of his thighs slapping against your ass. White filled your vision as you clenched around his cock. In the wake of your mind-shattering orgasm, you fall onto the bed, Toji following behind you and pinning you to the mattress.

As you dome down from your high, you feel Toji move his hand to grip your hips, digging his dull nails into your flesh. Somehow, he's fucking you harder as he groans into your neck.

"Fuck- good girl, good girl," his mouth latches to your skin now, leaving a hickey behind and moving to make another. "Gonna cum, pretty, gonna cum for you."

With one, final thrust, Toji stills inside you as he bites into the junction between your neck and shoulder, "Take it, slut- take it."

The feeling of hot cum gushing into you leaves you a whining little mess. Toji holds you tight, softly rolling his hips to ride out his orgasm. The two of you are left sweating and panting on your bed. You're too exhausted to think about what to do next, feeling just the slightest bit of overstimulation as he stays inside your abused cunt.

Toji chuckles and pulls out, sitting up on his knees to look at the mess he left between your thighs. You turn your head to look at him, lacking enough energy to move the rest of your body. Through the corner of your eyes, you watch Toji comb a hand through his hair before getting off your bed and collecting his discarded pants.

Some part of you wanted him to stay, but you're mostly glad he's taking charge and leaving without being told. It's obvious that this isn't the first time Toji's been in this position.

Even when fucked out, you've got a job to do. You manage to roll onto your back and run your hands down your face. The intent stare Toji gives to your bare tits doesn't go unnoticed, in return you smile teasingly at him, "Jeez, you aren't even gonna help me clean up?"

Toji ties the strings of his waistband and gives you a cocky grin, "I'm not being paid to pamper you, now am I?" He snickers as you roll your eyes, turning to leave the room. Toji stops himself just before he makes it out the door and raises a brow at you, "You're on birth control, right?"

At this, you scoff and chuck one of your throw pillows at him, "Maybe you should get better at your pull-out game, asshole."

He easily dodges the pillow, huffing as he leaves your room for real this time. While he makes his way to the bathroom, you hear him mutter something along the lines of 'getting you plan b in the morning.'

You sit yourself up on your elbows, cringing at the feeling of Toji's cum leak out onto your bedspread. The clock reads that it's two in the morning, and you really just wanna go to sleep- you would, if it wasn't for the various fluids drying on your bed. You groan and go to get off the bed, only to fall to the ground from the ache in your thighs.

"Damn it," you look up at the ceiling and hear Toji turn the TV back on in the living room. As you lay there, you let the memories and events sink in. He lets out a loud laugh at something he saw on the screen, and you're reminded that Toji is, in fact, a dickhead.

But you can easily admit that he's an excellent fuck. You're pretty sure that no one's any closer to finding the guy that threatened you. Maybe you can get one last round in before his job's done.

[rooksamoris]

Hi, there! :D

I saw that orders are open so I want to try to make my shot.

Romantic headcanons about the Scarabia duo with a reader (fem or neutral) who loves to sing and usually sings love songs to her/them respective boyfriend as a sign of her/them devotion and love🩷💕

Your Jamil and Kalim fics have made me gain a deep affection for those two characters and I love when you include Arabs in said fics, it seems beautiful to me. If my order does not convince you, you can discard it but if not, take your time and without pressure, thank you 🌌🌠🩷💕💐✨❤️Someday I will make some fan arts of your fics :D

💞 — in which they love the sound of your voice.

💞 — kalim al-asim, jamil viper (separately)

💞 — warnings: none, this is pure fluff and romance

💞 — 940 words. i hope i did your request justice!! also, that comment about making fanart made me squeal. i genuinely think that is the best compliment someone can get <333

KALIM AL-ASIM.

🩷 — Listen, the moment you are singing, he is joining you.

🩷 — It reminds him of the festivals in the Scalding Sands, where people sang for everything—pride for their homeland, love for their darlings, the taste of the cuisine—nearly everything was taken and made into a song.

🩷 — But the moment you start singing about love to him, sevens he feels so special. It motivates him to do just about everything. Music is such a perfect love language, and he could just die happily hearing you weave lyrics about romance to him. It makes him feel like your muse.

🩷 — Whenever he is sitting on a divan pillow, staring down at the work he does not want to complete, he glances over to you, carmine eyes all pleading. He just wants you to sing something so he can feel motivated to do his work again.

🩷 — The songs in his homeland are played more classically, with the oud (middle eastern lute) and the tablah (hand drums), and he loves that, but he is more pulled in by experimental sounds.

🩷 — His pure love for music causes him to introduce you to a lot of his favorite artists and he asks if he can play for you while you sing. Overall, it is a match made in heaven.

🩷 — He invites you to the Light Music Club’s meetings and he is constantly trying to get you to join the club. If you join, he will be extremely happy. Cater would post you guys on his social media with some sort of caption like ‘if he wanted to…’ and the comments are filled with single people talking about how they want to lay down in the middle of the highway—

🩷 — Kalim’s favorite thing is when you sing exclusively for him.

🩷 — Sure, he thinks that music should be shared with everyone, but sometimes he just wants to lock away those moments for just the two of you. Nothing is as romantic as him resting at your side, listening to the smooth melodies that would spill from your lips like the morning dew slipping off the leaves of palm trees.

“Can you sing another song?” Kalim asked, his head resting in your lap. It was just the two of you on this balcony of the Scarabia dorm. Your fingers were weaved into his hair and his golden coined headband was discarded off to the side to give you the perfect access to the white tresses. You laughed, smiling down at him as your hand trailed from his hair to his cheek, caressing his pretty and plump brown skin, “I already sang three songs for you, Kalim,” He pouted. “You, my love, are too spoiled,” you said, light-heartedly. His pouting did work since you began to sing another love song, weaving him the songs of romance that he yearned for so much.

JAMIL VIPER.

🩷 — Jamil, like Kalim, has emotional attachments to music. Nostalgia is the easiest way into anyone’s heart, and he was no different.

🩷 — Sometimes when he walked through the halls of Kalim’s estate, he could hear the other servants singing songs to keep them company. It helped them ignore any of the pains of labor and the reality of their servitude. He used to think it was stupid, but now he hums those songs as he cooks alone in the vast kitchen of Scarabia.

🩷 — If you sing for him, he only wants it to be in private.

🩷 — He never really got to have anything for himself, so whenever you are dedicating songs of romance to him, he prefers it to be in a place where it is just you two. He likes it especially when you are undoing the braids in his hair and brushing through the long dark brown strands for him.

🩷 — Soon enough, he catches onto the melodies you sing and they become the tunes he hums while cooking and cleaning. It especially happens when he knows you are not going to be joining him for a meal. Your songs make him feel close to you, even when you are not around.

🩷 — You once caught him sweeping the halls humming one of the romantic songs you sang to him. His head even swayed slightly to the beat, but the moment he saw you, he blushed and tugged his hood down, mumbling something about how he should make you wear anklets so that he could hear you before you catch him like this.

🩷 — He always had a love for music and dancing, but it always reminded him of having to dull his talents for Kalim’s take. 

🩷 — Your singing strengthens that bygone love that he had for his music. It is the one thing that not a single person can take from him and claim he was too lowly to deserve it because you gave it to him willingly. 

🩷 — Jamil is so in love. Your voice is like mango nectar on a hot summer day—sweet and healing.

He always loved it when you brewed him tea, singing whatever song came to your mind. It always made him just want to grab you, which he did. Jamil’s arms slipped around your waist and he sighed, stuffing his face in the crook of your neck. He was exhausted after all the work. You stopped singing and patted his head, “Tired?”  He nodded and he let out a few curses in his native language, before kissing your collar, “Keep singing,” he muttered. All he wanted to do was fall asleep to the sound of your voice while he waited for the tea to be finished. You obliged.

[dixonsbrat]

𖥔 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐄: 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𖥔

summary ; rafe begins to push you away when he realises the true nature of his feelings towards you

pairing ; rafe cameron x kook turned pogue!fem!reader

notes ; this series will contain mature themes, such as : p in v sex, fingering, oral sex (f and m receiving), swearing, physical altercations, potential nightmares and anxiety, arguments, drinking and drugs. if i forgot any please let me know.

do not transfer, translate or share my work to any other sites.

summer nights in the outer banks always felt like a mist of nostalgia washing over you as you ventured to the boneyard. the humidity was high, and the stars were bright. speckling across the night sky like a blanket of magic, each holding a promise to return the next day like they had every other.

tonight’s party had passed by in a flurry, whisking you away with your friends for a night of unconventional fun. just the way you liked it.

the boys were up to mischief, as per usual, as they took part in numerous bets and dares to see who was the ‘best pogue’ while sarah dragged you and kie to the bonfire for a dance. and despite the fact that you had spent most of the night in high spirits, you couldn’t help the sudden plunge of morale as you watched john b sneak up behind sarah and wrap his arms around her.

the two of them holding each other close and swaying to the music as he whispered sweet nothings in her ear. it made your heart heavy knowing how badly you both craved and desired the love that they so openly shared with the world.

“hey, i have a question..." jj declares after the six of you had found somewhere quiet to hunker down away from the general vicinity of the party, and with a joint in his hand, he moves to lay his head in your lap as he gazes up at the night sky.

“what now?” kie rolls her eyes, waiting to hear what high-induced thoughts the blond had conjured up

“if oranges are called… oranges, why aren't lemons called… yellows?" silence fell over you all as you tried to hold back your laughter,swapping confused looks, only to eventually give in.

“okay. i think you've had enough of that for tonight,” pope grabs the joint from jj’s hand, despite his protests, and takes a puff for himself before passing it to john b.

“agreed. i think i’m getting a contact high just from being near you,” you laugh softly.

he lets out a small gasp, clutching at his chest as though he were wounded, “you should be grateful.”

“yeah, okay, j,” you shake your head, laughing, and ruffle his hair before turning to the others to ask, “hey, does anyone have the time?”

pope’s the first to check his watch, “almost midnight.”

“shit…” you groan quietly and throw your head to the side, sinking into sarah’s shoulder for a moment, “i’ve gotta go. are we still meeting before the dinner tomorrow?”

“yeah, of course.” sarah nods, knowing that the question was intended for her and kie.

picking yourself up and dusting the sand off your shorts, you swing your bag over your shoulder and wave goodbye to your friends. they blow you kisses as you start to walk away, shouting out a jumbled mess of their own goodbyes, but nothing was more distinct than jj's "see ya tomorrow, bubba!"

making your way through the remainder of the party, a group of kooks pass you by, each of them narrowing their eyes and one even blatantly whispering about you. your family’s history wasn’t uncommon knowledge on the island, and so, unlike the pogues, a lot of the kooks didn’t want to be seen hanging out with a ‘half-breed’, as they would sometimes call you.

like kie, your parents came from two different worlds, but unfortunately for them, they didn’t have quite the happy ending that the carrera’s did. so now you live with your mom and her new husband with all the other figure eight trust fund babies, but you weren’t really one of them — you never would be.

“y/n!” a voice calls your name, and you turn just in time to see topper wrap his arm around your shoulders. the strong scent of alcohol consuming your senses, and you sway off-balance from the impact of his weight.

“hey, top,” you pat his chest affably.

“hey, we’re friends, right?” he smiles drunkenly this time, and a slight hum leaves his lips.

you knew the question was of good nature, and you didn’t dislike topper, but he wasn’t exactly your favourite person either. so, not wanting to hurt his feelings while he clearly wasn’t all there, you decide to indulge him a little, “of course we are, buddy.”

“it’s just… i know you hang out with the pogues, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends? i’ve always been nice to you, and i know kelce thinks you’re cool, but rafe, he’s a tough one. he really hates pogues, and you’re like choosing to be-”

“topper, let’s go, man!” kelce shouts as he makes his way over to you, and a few steps behind him staggered along rafe cameron, “some of us are going back to mine.”

seemingly frustrated, kelce tries to get his friend to leave while rafe appears far more interested in the cup between his lips. when he does eventually look up at topper, his eyes fall on you under his friend’s arm for a moment before he runs a hand across his forehead and looks away as though he hadn’t paid you any attention at all.

“maybe you should get him a leash?” the suggestion falls from your lips, and from behind the cup in his hand, you swore you saw rafe smirk. though, it’s gone faster than it had appeared.

kelce lets out a soft chuckle, “don’t tempt me.”

“hey, y/n, why don’t you come with us?” topper turns to you with more enthusiasm than you could handle on a good day. like a golden retriever that was just given his favourite ball.

“as tempting as that sounds... i will have to pass.” removing his arm, you push him towards kelce, who reluctantly catches him.

“why not? it’ll be fun, and kelce and rafe will be there!”

“actually, i’ve, uh, i’ve got somewhere to be,” rafe discloses, taking the last sip of his drink before throwing the empty cup into the trash pile and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “so, i’m going to have to skip on tonight too.”

not wanting to stick around for the conversation about to be had, which would mostly consist of topper whining for rafe to go with them, you take your leave from the trio, “alright. well, i’m going to go. you boys have fun.” and as you pass through them, your arm accidentally brushes against rafe.

you don't think much of it, but the small graze seemed to have attracted his attention, because when you look back, his eyes are already watching you walk away.

the air was no longer sticky as you walked towards the main road. the temperature had dropped enough to cause an array of bumps on your arms and you cursed yourself for not bringing a jacket. the coolness nipped at your skin, and you helplessly wrapped your arms around yourself to gather as much warmth as possible.

the street was quiet, other than the distant sound of music from the boneyard and the occasional bark from a neighbourhood dog. the sky was dark with nothing but the stars helping guide you home, which only made it more noticeable when a set of headlights turned into the street. the sound of an engine began to approach you, slowing to meet your side before eventually coming to a stop.

“y'know, it’s at least an hour walk back to figure eight, right?” the driver points out, and an undeniable smirk tugs at the corner of your lips before you turn to see rafe leaning his head out the open window.

“really?” you retort, cocking your head to the side. “... what took you so long then?”

rafe licks his lips to try and downplay the smile on his face as you near the car, his eyes trailing up and down your body, "well, you know how it is?"

"topper wouldn't shut up," you say in unison, scrunching up your face as you nod.

"i guess that means i'll just have to make it up to you," he looks you up and down once more, his eyes lingering on the skin surrounding your chest and noting how the smallest cherubs of your nipples were poking through your bikini top.

smiling coyly, you sink towards him, pushing a hand to run across the stubbled hair on his head, and press a chaste kiss to his lips, "you better." your words muffle against him.

he hums with approval, a smug look on his face as you pull his bottom lip between yours, giving it a small tug, "you better hurry up and get in then."

you scrunch your nose at him before running around the other side of the car, and it doesn't take long at all for the two of you to reunite with the comforts of rafe's bedroom. the familiar scent of his vanilla lotion, cologne, and a hint of tobacco filling your senses the second he opens the door, and what was once a relevantly clean floor was now being littered with discarded clothing.

his fingers were gentle as they danced across your skin, loosening the knot in the back of your bikini with ease, before hoisting you up around his waist and leading you to his bed where he places you down atop his cotton sheets. his fingers make haste to remove the last pieces of your clothing as he peppers sweet kisses along your jawline, down to your neck.

rafe's kisses were reverent, his touch worshipping, as he slowly revealed every last piece of you. like a precious gift being unwrapped for all to see, but only rafe got the pleasure of doing so.

his breath is hot as he traipses his kisses further down your chest, and his lips soft as he presses them perfectly around the nubs of your breasts. flicking his tongue over the sensitive skin and erupting a whirlwind of rampant butterflies in your stomach.

"god, look at you," he mumbles, a hand now rolling down your waist, your thigh, stopping just shy of where you needed him the most. you needed to feel him, needed him to touch you, and he knew it. he could tell by the way your hips were ever so slightly bucking up to try and reach his hand. "so needy, baby."

smirking, he slowly glides his fingers over your clit and then begins working small torturous circles over it. your chest starts to rise and fall, the breathe being pulled from your lungs, and rafe pushes the side of his other hand into your mouth to help muffle your moans.

it's then that he presses two fingers inside you, letting his thumb continue to work you as he slowly pumps them in and out. your hips jut up, the pleasure working it's way through you until you couldn't bare it much longer. then it stops.

"rafe..." you whine, panting.

"what? you really think i'm going to waste the chance to have you cum around me?" he meets your face, bringing his fingers to his lips and licking your juices off of them, "not when you taste this sweet."

then, without warning, he grabs you by the waist and pulls you into his lap. letting nothing else stand between you both, he takes your mouth in a heated kiss. his tongue teasing you skilfully until you're left breathless. you could taste yourself on his tongue, and it only made you want him more.

with one hand gripping at your thigh, he uses the other to give himself a few pumps before swiping along your slit to gather your wetness. you jolt as the tip of his cock touches your clit, which he can't help but snicker at, and he slowly starts to push himself in.

rafe was big, there was no denying that, and you would have to bury your head in his shoulder from time to time to stop yourself from crying out as you sink down on him. you could feel him everywhere, and while you didn't have anything to compare it to, you had never felt so full in your life than when rafe was inside you.

it takes a moment to adjust but once he starts moving, all the pressure that had built up quickly turns into pleasure. you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him as close to you as you possibly could, your chests moving together as one as he maintains his rhythm. you try to kiss him, but he feels too good inside that all you can do is let out breathy moans.

his thumb moves down to work your clit once more, adding to the pleasure tightening and compressing within your stomach. waves of ecstasy taking over your body as you succumb to your high while rafe tries his best not to cum in you.

you press your head against him as your orgasm rolls through your body, your walls clenching around him and daring to push him over the edge, "fuck, i love watching you cum."

you notice the way his pupils had dilated as he stares up at you now, and you press your lips to his as you slowly lift yourself off of him, immediately feeling empty inside.

"told you i'd make it up to you," he stretches his neck as he leans back to rest on his elbows, closing his eyes long enough for you to work your way down to his waist and take him in your mouth.

he was still so hard, and creamy from being inside you, that the second your lips came in contact, his head lulled back with a sigh. he was already so close to the edge that it didn't take long for him to blow his load in your mouth. and you didn’t waste a drop.

after recollecting yourself, rafe throws you one of his t-shirts to put on and you make yourself comfortable against the headboard of his bed. he, however, instinctively moves to rest his head in your lap, and your fingers idly run circles on his head.

whenever you were with rafe, it felt like all of your problems simply washed away. he made you feel things you never had before. he made you feel alive. and while you loved spending as much time with him as possible, there was always a bittersweet feeling gnawing at you, reminding you that none of this was real, because your time together always had to come to an end.

it was always easier to just rip off the band aid rather than to let it fester until it consumed your every thought.

"you okay?" rafe asks, taking notice of how quiet and spacey you were being. you nod, not wanting to turn this into anything. "you can tell me," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand this time.

it was the small gestures like that that made it all the more difficult to keep sneaking around with him. you knew you could never tell him how you were really feeling but the longer you had to lie to your friends or hide away like he was ashamed to be seen with you, the more you wondered if this was how things would always be with him.

he had told you from the start that he had too much going on to be able to commit to anything or make promises he knew he couldn't keep, but that didn't mean it hurt any less. and no matter how many times he tried to reassure you that this wasn't just sex for him, he would always follow up with the fact that he couldn't let himself get carried away. not when ward was watching his every move.

“it’s fine, really,” leaning down, you press another kiss to his lips and then to his nose, “i promise.”

reluctant to believe you, he eventually nods before moving into your touch and nuzzling his face into yours as he kisses you once more. his hands move to guide you as your breath becomes ragged, and just as you’re about to get lost in him once more, you pull away, knowing that if you didn’t, you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself.

between breaths, you whisper, “it’s late. i should get going.”

rafe throws his head back into his pillow, heaving a sigh, and where you expected him to agree or even help you gather your clothes from where you had left them all over his floor, he instead stops you. his eyes flutter for a second, and his jaw tenses the way it did whenever he was fighting the thoughts in his head, trying to flush them out, and with a soft voice, he says, “… stay.”

an inaudible gasp leaves you as you contemplate whether or not you had heard him correctly and when you don’t answer, he pulls you back to the bed, "stay... please."

rafe had never asked you to stay before or vis versa, the night always ended with one of you sneaking home, and while you were ecstatic over the revelations, you were also sceptical as to what had changed his mind all of a sudden. he doesn't say anything else, just pulls you back between the sheets and wraps his arm firmly around your waist.

you hadn't given him an answer, but you knew you weren't going to say 'no', who knew if he would ever ask you to stay again. instead, you let yourself melt into his warmth where you remained until the sun began to rise.

[tteokdoroki]

*ੈ🌩️‧₊˚— the mystery of misery + katsuki bakugou, eijirou kirishima.

૮˶ᵕ ༝ᵕ˶ა synopsis — you’ve spent your whole life running from the shackles of your past and the misery surrounding it, but, after the death of your estranged mother— you return to your small hometown to lay her to rest. while you’re there, the whispers of whiteridge begin to unravel, revealing mysteries of love, loss and lies that all tie back to a childhood flame and the town’s recluse.

⭑ general warnings — please read + mdni ! heavy!angst, heavy!smut, fluff, happy ending, characters aged up to twenties, strangers/childhood friends to lovers, major character deaths, themes of death, injury descriptions (bones), murder mystery, childhood trauma, gaslighting, manipulation, arguments, fight scenes, anxiety, panic attacks, therapy, pet names (sweetheart, darling, baby etc.), fem!reader, southern!au, small town!au, quirkless!au.

⭑ smut warnings — three scenes, protected/unprotected sex, drunk sex, clothed sex, oral sex (m + f!receiving), blowjobs, handjobs, fingering (f!receiving), nipple play, body worship, dry humping, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, orgasm control, choking, biting, scratching, marking, threesomes, cucking, frottage, double vaginal penetration, squirting, creampies, possession, birth control, condom usage, aftercare, light!degradation, light!dumbification, light!dacryphilia, light!baby trapping, strength!kink, praise!kink, size!kink, spit!kink, uses of cunt, pussy, cock dick etc. reader is picked up/carried.

⭑ words — 51.1K.

⭑ notes — waah !! here it is !! my baby, my passion project. this fic is an accumulation of of a month of screaming, crying + throwing up but i'm so happy to give it to you all. i've never been so proud of something, it's a lot, its heavy but its very much me and indulgent. sorry in advance for the text walls/length but i hope you guys will love it as much as i do! special thanks to @yuki-no-akumu for all the support and editing and formatting!! and @heartdevil too ! m.list / playlist / ao3 ✩

some memories are easier to forget than others.

like scars, they can fade with time until they’re hardly noticeable— as if they were never even there to begin with. others cling to familiar scents and sights and sensations, etched into the landscape of your brain never to be erased, never to be replaced. no matter how hard you try, certain memories will always come back to you— close in on you like a shadow in the night, jolting you from your peaceful present day. 

at least, that’s how you feel when you get a call from your hometown about your estranged mother’s sudden death— and all of those painful memories from your childhood you worked so hard to forget, constantly pushing them to the back of your mind come crashing down on you in a giant wave of stinging nostalgia. and you feel as though you're drowning in the weight of them. 

as soon as you were old enough, and on the cusp of your eighteenth birthday— you’d abandoned your life in a small town in the south to make it big in the city. you wanted to write, wanted your name on big billboards and your books in every store, so you left it all behind as a naive young woman to follow a man who’d promised you a fruitful career and that all of your wildest dreams would come true. back then, you’d have done anything to get out of that tiny town. 

and you did, though just barely breaking into your mid-twenties you made a name for yourself as a best-selling author of fiction books. known far and wide, you thought that your career was your way out, but you’d never thought that you’d be dragged back to the hellhole of your childhood hometown either. the place where people cursed your name instead of cheered it, where you were an outsider instead of someone to be loved. 

the memories of your bitter mother and piece of shit father ( who’d abandoned you all very early on ) sit at the forefront of your mind as you make the long drive to your old southern home— you would only go back to sell your dead mother’s house, see to her funeral arrangements and be back to your new, better life in the city within the week. you couldn’t possibly stay any longer, you refused to.

except, the words of your publicist, mina ashido, serve as a haunting reminder that your plan isn’t just a quick in and out.

‘when you go on this trip and go back home, sit in your feelings. talk to the people you used to know! write something. something refreshing that your fans have never seen before.’

you remember the conversation as clear as day, after having received the news of your mother’s passing— your nosey publicist thought it would be a good idea to pester you to consider writing that autobiography. she’d told you that your fans wanted to know the real you, that you were too private for your own good and apparently your science fiction romance novels just weren’t cutting it anymore. 

you scoff to yourself, alone in your rented jeep, cruising down mountainous dirt roads with nothing but dust and rocks kicked up by your tires, cold air and the clear sky above to keep you company. “the real me, my ass.” there was a reason that no one knew anything about you prior to who you are now. why your childhood memories were kept safely behind lock and key. no one needed to know the neglect you faced after your elder brother’s death, they could be spared the details on how your mother went bat-shit crazy trying to investigate his accident. what good would it do anyone to know how the town and its people turned against your mother when she couldn’t handle her duties, being too consumed with grief to help those that needed her? 

to help you, when you needed her? 

everyone in town hated her, and by extension, you. 

what good of a story would a life like that make to your readers? 

a sign for the town of whiteridge, population 356, comes into view— a little rustier than when you’d left it, and for a moment, you bring your car to a complete stop.

though the darkened memories of your past sink their claws into your mind, you take a deep breath and push forward— facing the demons that taunted you throughout your childhood, making them your bitch in your adulthood. 

as it turns out, funerals are much harder to plan than expected. 

the town’s coroner had already picked the date for said celebration of life ( a good riddance for you ), which settled on the day after you had arrived in lovely old whiteridge. there was much to organise in such little time. 

dealing with the funeral director had been exhausting, picking colours and flower arrangements and headstone designs— you end up throwing a wad of cash at the coroner, too tired to deal with the matter or to care. you doubt that your mother would have spared enough of her attention to do the same for you if you’d swapped places with one another. in the end, you put down enough money to cover twice the budget for the funeral and after party and whatever wages will be needed by any staff involved at the director with a polite, yet strained smile.

whatever you need to give to put your mother in the ground and bury your past with her— you’ll give. 

after more discussion, you come to find that the only condition the woman who raised you had for her death was that any celebration in her honour was to take place in your childhood home— the one with creaky floorboards and wailing walls that accompanied the symphony of your mother’s sobs each night. the funeral director had told you that, and again, you agreed to the condition without a care, paying off the decorators with your hard earned money ( not what your mother had left you or what was kept for her funeral arrangements ), telling them to get it sorted for the following day. 

you couldn’t bear to deal with the house yourself, at least not yet, and decide to put yourself up in the town’s nicest hotel for one last night of peace. 

the hotel is on the far side of whiteridge, by the town centre surrounded by warm looking diner’s and old rickety antique shops you remember being coated in fresh licks of paint as a child. the owners are a sweet couple, who sign you up to their cosiest room right away— the taller, momo, desperately trying to hold back on asking for your autograph while her partner, jirou, looks for your set of keys in the back behind their reception desk. 

eyeing momo— taking in her round, soft cheeks, her gentle obsidian eyes and silken dark locks, you wonder how she ever survived a place like this looking so kind and hopeful and make a mental note to buy an extra copy of your latest novel from the gift shop later on, so you can leave her with a signed copy as a thank you for being so hospitable throughout your stay. 

a mop of purple hair returns from the darkness, each one of jirou’s steps jingling with the set of keys dedicated to your space for the night. “you’ll wanna head ta room 205, it’s up the stairs ‘n to the right,” she explains nonchalantly, her southern twang ringing in your ears as she twirls the keychain over her perfectly manicured finger before pushing the set of keys across the desk towards you. “checkout is at noon, breakfast is served by sato from eight am sharp ‘till then.” 

her hands settle onto her hips afterwards, returning to momo’s side— the picture perfect painting of a happy couple residing in this fucked up world. with a smile that barely reaches your eyes, you take the keys graciously and slip them into your coat pocket— fiddling with them before you speak. “is it possible for me to get a later checkout, or leave my luggage somewhere safe?” casting your gaze around the hotel’s reception, you click your tongue before looking back at the pair with a smirk. “got a funeral first thing tomorrow morning,” 

both women soften at your words, but your grin remains— not faltering at the expression of sympathy that flashes across their features. “oh goodness! of course! we can keep your bags locked up back here until you’re ready to get them,” the words rush out of momo, quick to correct their blunder before she elbow’s jirou— who gazes up at her in a gleeful mix of shock and irritation.

it makes you laugh, how natural they are with one another— like a married couple with their own special ticks and love language. nothing like what you saw around whiteridge growing up. they fuel a small fire of inspiration in the back of your mind, characters for your next book forming from nothing in your imagination but then you suddenly remember that you have an autobiography to write while being here— not a means to escape reality. your face sags at the thought.

“‘m sorry for your loss,” jirou hums quietly. “may i ask who it was?” 

adjusting your posture, your hand forms a fist around the keys in your pocket— the cool silver metal cutting into the soft skin of your palm. 

“my mother,” you give her name, letting out an amused chuff as recognition takes its place on the couple’s faces. you shrug next. “and don’t be.” bringing a single finger to your lips, you make them wordlessly promise not to say anything. not to leak your little secret to anyone outside of this town. 

the world beyond whiteridge knows nothing of your family and the person you were before you left your town. not only that, but ashido would quite literally kick the bucket too if she found out your mother’s death had spread to the wider internet. it was a secret, the goldmine and key to your autobiography’s success. the chilly outside calls to you through a blue and red stained glass window— the yellow street lamps just shining through, accompanied by happy shouts from residents in the town. the sights and sounds lure you out of your own stuffy thoughts and taunting memories. you feel like you’re holding your breath, that you’re suffocating in the pressures of trying to live up to and prove yourself to your mom even though she’s stone cold and long gone.

twirling on your feet, you face the happy couple and plant your hands on the front desk eagerly. “i’m dying for a drink,” you blurt out brightly and try not to laugh at your awful choice of words. the tone of your voice carries something much more chipper to what it was mere seconds ago— shocking the hotel owners standing before you. “any recommendations? i haven't been to whiteridge in years!” 

jirou hesitantly lifts her finger to the window that had beckoned to you earlier— seemingly pointing to a busy joint just across the street. “liquid gold bar, s’owned by a friend of mine. used to be the town’s chapel ‘fore it got burned down a few years back by a couple of highschool grads,” she says fondly, as if remembering something happy. “i may or may not have been one of ‘em. they’ve moved further out now. but if ya do go to the bar, tell kaminari we said hello.” 

you both share a wicked grin at the story— laughing between each other while momo only scolds her partner lightly. they can’t be much older than yourself, meaning the chapel had burned down just after you’d finished highschool as well. ironic, you think.

“they do a great roast as well! if you’re hungry for dinner while you’re over there!” the ravenette beside jirou chips in, offering you a warm smile. 

thanking them both, you muster up a genuine smile of your own before asking for a pen and some paper— which momo is quick to shove at you. satisfaction flits through your body as your signature glides easily across the bit of scrap that she’d given you ( which you’re pretty sure is a receipt for their maintenance bill ). you step back after pushing it across towards her, nodding in acknowledgement. 

“thank you both for your help. i’ll be sure to find a copy of one of my books so i can give you a proper signature as thanks. have a great night.” 

you take your leave after that, gathering your bags and suitcase in your arms as you trot up the stairs. you can hear the excited squeal and kisses that follow your departure, momo blabbing on about your parting gift, her fondness of your works accompanied by jirou’s gentle and exasperated ‘i know, momo’ and ‘calm down or i’ll kiss you!'. you can only grin once you reach the landing, glad that at least some positivity has manifested in this wretched town. 

the atmosphere of liquid gold is buzzing.

after setting up in your room, showering and switching into something clean and comfortable— you head over to the bar and restaurant per jirou and momo’s recommendation. upon entering the establishment, you can already feel the life burning bright in every single corner of the room. it’s not busy, but people from every walk of life, people you don’t recognise from your awful childhood seem to be having fun. you feel safe here, free from the tendrils of trauma whiteridge usually had clinging to you.

you arrive at the bar in a few short strides, tugging the sleeves of your old woollen sweater over your hands, not bothering to flag down the bartender as you enjoy the animated and rustling atmosphere you’re currently surrounded in. 

“yer not from around here, are ya?” an electric blonde appears before you, startling you from the peace and quiet of your mind. he notices you jump, a smile breaking out across his chirpy looking face as he pours you a shot of brown liquor and passes it to you. 

folding your arms against the top of the bar, you quirk a brow before knocking back the shot with ease— the alcohol leaving a comfortable burn in the back of your throat. one that doesn’t hurt to feel, like the burn of hearing your mother’s name again when the solicitor called to tell you the news of her death. “what makes you say that?” slamming the glass down against the smooth sweet-cherry countertop, you lick your lips, and hum at the taste of dark rum coating them. 

the chipper blonde gives you a look from his place behind the bar, amber orbs dragging up and down your frame as he gestures to…well, all of you. “for starters, you’re at the hottest spot in town dressed like yer about to join a seniors knitting class!” he starts, topping you up with another shot as you lean over to get a better look at him. he’s pretty, with wild hair and bright eyes and a cheeky aura about him— someone way too positive for a town that haunts your nightmares. “and second, yer just too pretty for a town like this.”

scoffing, you roll your eyes and look away. “could say the same about you,” you say to yourself— a little too quiet for him to hear before downing your second shot of the night. “thanks, but i was actually born at the hospital just up the street.” 

“no kiddin’! me too!” the blonde seems giddy at the news that you, a stranger, has shared with him.

“aren’t we all…” you mumble back, blinking slow as the alcohol steadily begins to simmer through your body in the heat of the blood flowing in your veins.

“you don’t have the accent either,” he comments.

“skipped town at eighteen ‘n dropped it t’get where i needed to be in the industry i work in.” you fire back, locking your gaze with the bartender who seems thoroughly impressed by your ability to bring back the southern twang on command. 

“i hear that,” the bartender looks you over, gesturing to the bottles of water behind him in concern and nods when you shake your head, gripping the bar. he’s fast to set you up with a third shot of rum, hesitant to give it to you. “so what brings ya back? tourism can’t be it.” 

you swallow the rum, satisfied with how it calms your raging mind and temporarily eats up any anxieties you might have about the funeral tomorrow. 

“dead mother.” 

your companion reaches under the bar with a handful of black polished nails to grab a bigger glass for you— pouring you a heavier drink and a shot for himself. “bummer…” he laughs, as if understanding why you’re drinking tonight and lifts his shot glass to cheers with you. you share his laughter, already feeling lighter and clink your glass against his. “‘m denki kaminari, the owner of this joint, so if ya need anything, just holler at me, okay?” 

with that, denki backs off to go tend to his other customers and gives you a sweet salute as you wave him off. “i-i will!” you hiccup cheerily. “oh! jirou and momo say hi!” 

tapping your nails against the cool surface of your glass, you try not to think about the loneliness creeping up on you and the dread you have for the funeral. though, you’re somewhat relieved to let go of the woman who took away your childhood and failed to raise you in favour of digging deep into your older brother’s accident, in turn letting you be swallowed by the hate from the people in town. there was dread— fear for confronting your demons, the townspeople who failed you and the alcohol could only numb that for such little time. 

“can i get a drink, please?” someone rasps and the sound of a chair scraping against the floor next to you pulls you from your thoughts for the second time that night— but you don’t bother to look up, wanting to be alone. and like denki had said, you’re pretty. it’s not uncommon for you to get hit on in a place like this. 

tracing the rim of your glass, an irritated sigh leaves your lips as you take another sip of the dark liquid filling it. “before you ask, i’m not interested, but thanks anyway,” you reply smoothly, voice lowered by the alcohol clinging to the ridges of your throat. 

the voice speaks pipes up again, this time sounding as though it’s directed at you. “‘nd i wasn’t fuckin’ talkin’ to you, sweetheart,”  only then do you spare a glance at the person speaking— his voice husky, lower than yours and filtering through your ears like liquid gold honey. “but thanks for the clarification anyways.” 

oh fuck.

you pause, meeting a pair of narrowed ruby red eyes, deep and enticing— calling to you like riches call to a man of greed. once you look up, you can’t tear your own eyes away, pulled into the trance of the handsome man before you. his hair looks like it’s been touched by only the brightest days of sunlight, a soft pale blonde that just barely covers his eyes. his skin is golden despite the cool and bone chilling weather outside— dotted with honeycomb freckles that remind you of stars in the sky. his lashes are long, long enough to make you insanely jealous of how pretty they are and your mind dares you to think about how soft they must feel when brushing against your skin.

you can tell that the man is strapping from the way his arms bulge and how broad his chest is, barely hidden by the fabric of his black turtleneck that stretches over his bulky frame. he seems familiar, but blurred from your memory— as if you knew him but weren’t supposed to.

he also looks like he was made by the gods.

like he’s the love interest that's walked straight out of one of your most famous books.

“don’t they teach you outsiders that it’s rude t’fuckin’ stare?” the stranger asks, a brow raised into his hairline as he accepts a drink from an amused denki. 

shaking your head in surprise at being called out, you splutter out a response. “an outsider?” 

“yer clearly not from around here.” 

“you’re the second person who’s told me that tonight. what’s your reason?” 

raising his drink to you, ice clinking against the sides of the glass, he utters simply. “firstly, ya don’t have an accent, sweetheart.” 

rolling your eyes again, you swivel in your seat to fully face the handsome and apparently— all knowing, yet unknown person with an unimpressed glare. “let me guess,” leaning an elbow on the bar top, you bat your lashes at him and push your arms together to mockingly accentuate your chest. “i’m too pretty to be from ‘round here too.” you add in a faux dumb tone, scoffing when he falls for your trick to take a glance at your tits from over your sweater. “unbelievable.”

“was gonna say ya just give off the vibe that yer uptight, but that too.” 

“uptight?” you gasp incredulously and if looks could kill, this man would be six feet under. “you don’t even know me.” 

“know enough to know you don’t give a fuck ‘bout yer mom dyin’ or… at least you pretend not to. yeah i heard that.” he mumbles and takes a sip of his cool beverage, swirling it around the tempered glass before locking eyes with you again. “but then again, who am i ta judge? if she was from this shitty town, then that old hag was probably a pain in the fuckin’ ass jus’ like the rest of ‘em, hah?” 

he looks to you as if reading your face, but you don’t have it in you to tell him that he’s wrong— so you laugh and raise your half empty glass to him. “right on the money…” you trail off, hoping to get his name. 

“bakugou.” 

“bakugou…” you repeat his last name, playing with the taste of it on your tongue, happy with it. “the people in this place are fake as shit.” 

he grins in response. “they’re all bullshit, i’d rather avoid these fuckers as if they had the plague.” 

you grin back. “cheers to that then.” 

“cheers to bein’ the only sane people in this god-awful town,” bakugou holds his glass up to yours, cheers-ing  with you before you both down your drinks in one smooth shot. when he looks back at you, you softly give him your own name, buzzing with newfound confidence as the alcohol once again takes up residence in your bloodstream.

“can i get’cha another drink, bakugou?” you ask, flagging denki over with a wave of your dainty fingers. “my tab’s already open.” 

“i won’t say no t’that, sweetheart. start me off easy, yeah? don’t wanna get too drunk before i get ta know ya.” 

now, that shocks you. someone interested in you for more than just your books and your money, someone who seems not to know you like the rest of the world does…or even this town. you tilt your head, intrigued by bakugou and speak softly to him again. “you wanna get to know me?” 

“no one hates this place as much as i do, people like us gotta stick together.” the pale blonde with the dauntingly beautiful vermillion stare; smirks— exposing a row of sharpened pearly whites that make your heart stutter in its place residing in your chest. “’sides, i meant what i said earlier. i think yer pretty.” his smirk turns dopey, a coy smile crossing his perfectly slanted lips, sending your brain into some kind of frenzy. bakugou leans in real close, having turned to face you fully as well, and lets his hand slide over your jean clad knee— further and further until it settles on the swell of your thigh, giving it a hearty squeeze. 

walking your fingers up bakugou’s own thigh, you drop your tone into a sultry. “yeah? you’re not so bad yourself.” you coo, twirling your fingers through his belt loops and tugging on them shyly. though there aren’t many people in the bar, you feel like the temperature of the room is rising— scorching you from the inside out. maybe it’s his touch, maybe it’s how close you both are, but it’s almost as if bakugou is swallowing you whole, pulling you into his air of mystery. 

“not bad, hah? don’t act like i didn’t catch ya starin’, sweetheart.” he responds darkly, cocking his head to the side. 

your hands travel upwards, fisting the fabric of his turtleneck as you follow the tilt of bakugou’s head. “god, you have something to say for everything, don’t you?” there’s nothing but an inch of air separating you both, your lips ghosting over one another. 

“‘course i do, s’cause i never lose.” he whispers softly, his breath warm and wet against your cupid’s bow before bakugou closes the gap— pressing his lips against yours in a slow, alcohol and lust driven kiss. you briefly seize up, before letting the man lead you further into the dark. bakugou’s tongue drags over the seam of your lips, tasting the rum that’s caught on the chapped skin of them. he groans deep, the sound vibrating through you and straight down to the heat between your thighs— making you uncomfortable in your denim jeans.

you tug him close, desperate for more, for something else— but kaminari comes over, waving his rag about the place until both you and bakugou part. 

“hey! hey now! get a room! you’re scaring away the customers!” 

“can it, dunce face!” bakugou grumbles at the loss of contact but keeps a hand on your thigh to keep you in place while you calm your breath. “what customers?"

“um, rude!” 

“‘nd s’not even like that anyways,” the lighter blonde continues, grabbing his coat and subsequently pulling his hand from your thigh— making you whimper at the loss of his warmth. 

grabbing onto his sleeve before bakugou can vacate the bar, you pout, giving him your best doe eyes and pleading voice. “it can be…like that if you want.” you say breathlessly, not quite ready for your evening with the handsome stranger to end just yet. “i’ve got a room at the hotel across the street for tonight.” 

and then bakugou gives you the same, slow sexy smirk from earlier and steps in between your thighs. 

“yeah? then show me the way, princess.” 

that’s how you end up slamming bakugou against the door of your hotel room— roughing him up between sloppy, spit swapping kisses. your hands cascade down the blonde’s well built frame, feeling his chiselled and washboard abs from over the thick fabric of his clothing, squeezing the meat of his pecs and tugging on his belt loops— hardly giving the man any room between your sensual lip locks. bakugou groans into your temperate mouth, following each movement of your lips like it’s a perilous siren song calling to him, like he can’t bare to be without your tongue crawling across his, both pink muscles dancing in a salaciously sinful song too debauched to happen between two complete strangers. 

his lips feel so good, they’re soft and plump— balmier than you expected them to be for someone who seems so rough on the exterior. they move with calculated precision, not too rough, yet hungry enough to make you feel wanted and elicit a light blaze in your lower stomach, right between the plushness of your thighs. though you’re the one who has bakugou pinned against the maple wood door behind you, he’s the one that controls the flame of your desire— poking at it until it roars bright and orange, scalding you from the inside out as he pushes a thick, muscled thigh between your legs and making sure it’s snug against your clothed cunt through your jeans. 

though he kisses you in a way you’d described as unhurried, cushiony and ductile, bakugou’s hands cup the maturing curve of your face between calloused fingers to tilt it upwards so he can pour more of his passion into you— enough to fill you to the brim as though to replace your soul with his own and leave you with a piece of him. his fingertips feel scarred with memories not quite sure you want to know the history of, fluidly sinking downwards until they cup the scope of your neck, dragging against your smooth unmarred flesh before finding purchase in your pesky clothes— tugging you closer to him to kiss you more, tease you more with his thigh grinding painfully slow into your aroused core. 

you can’t be any closer to a man you’ve only just met, noses becoming neighbours with how frequently they bump against one another between your sticky lip locks and the blaze in the base of two sets of lungs whenever either of you come up for air. your chests expand with every ragged breath you take and the more your lips touch and tongues glide over chapped surfaces before meeting in the middle. alcohol clouds your judgement, should you really be doing this? your dread and fear of the day to come simmering on the stove into something more raunchy and taboo— a one night stand the day before your mother is due to meet the ground and possibly her maker. maybe you’re a little sick for that. 

bakugou’s tongue feels like a new weight in your mouth, damn near down your throat but in a sexy way— drooling against your own, his spit shining against your chin as your makeout becomes nastier, sloppier and his thigh tenses up beneath every swirl of your hips down on him. there’s some sort of hunger, a growing and untamed appetite you have for one another, showing only the worst intentions for the rest of your night. 

“fuckin’…take it off—“ bakugou grunts, restless and hot under his collar. his pupils dilate until they’re filled with a menacing shade of obsidian black that’s diluted with the red in his eye. you can tell that he wants you, his touch searing straight through the layers of thick winter clothes you have on, scorching the mark of his fingertips against the fat at your hips while he plays with a loose thread on your sweater. “wanna fuckin’ see what’cha hidin’ sweetheart,” he adds in a disguised plea, letting you pull back only slightly so you can shrug of the top layer of clothing until you’re bare to the predator’s stare. admiring the view, bakugou drags a digit up the softness of your tummy, pinging your laced bra against your skin once he reaches the valley between your breasts and exhaling deep at the sight of them bouncing for him. 

a muscled arm circles your waist until you’re flush against bakugou’s bulky frame, hearts beating in sync, eyes fluttering across one another’s features illuminated by the shy sparkle of the moon peeking through the curtains and right into your room. bakugou’s skin sparkles under the silver light. his mouth is on yours again within a matter of seconds, a light blush panting his cheeks and the bridge if your nose all the while, his tongue licks into your mouth with insatiable wanton, the tip of it curling around the strings of saliva that connect the roof of your mouth to the pink muscle below.

it’s all to sedate himself, satisfy his raging ravenousness while the sweetness of your mouth drips onto his palette, making him go cross eyed and a throaty moan echo between you both. 

all this from kissing a woman he just met— from kissing you.

the situation is insanely absurd, not even close to bakugou’s regular style, but he can’t help but feel enticed by the way you nip at his bottom lip and run your fingers through his blonde locks from their roots to their ends, fisting them when he lets out a breathless chuckle against your open mouth and flexes his thigh against your jean-clad pussy once again. it’s only then that you seize the opportunity— pushing the stronger, well-built man up against the door once more with some force before you quickly sink to your knees beneath him. your eyes shimmer, your mind clouded over and your lips wet and parted— you’re a fallen angel for sure, a walking temptation for bakugou himself. 

he’s not a man strong enough to resist. 

the descent upon bakugou’s body, one seemingly built by the highest of gods and carved out of ingenious rock, had been too quick for him to notice. and now, the sight of you on your knees for him has him embarrassingly hot all over. he’s burning bright like molten lava as you make quick work of his snake-skin looking belt and push his jeans down with his boxers in one swift motion. your fingers twirl the soft tufts of blonde hair forming a happy trail, lips twisted into a giddy, wet smile as it leads you down to his cock. 

you press scorching kisses to bakugou’s pelvis, tracing your name against his golden skin with the tip of your tongue and grab at his tight ass with your eager hands, nails digging into the flesh until he snarls down at you. 

“fuckin’ hell sweetheart,” he laughs through the thickness of ardour caught in the ridges of his throat. “fuck me, yer an animal.” bakugou manages through stuttered breaths. he runs a hand through his mussed and sweaty locks, staring down at you with a wolfish grin as he does so.

mirroring his expression, you toy with the elastic waistband of his boxers and hum in content when his entire body tenses up. “what? did you think i was just gonna roll over and take it? you must not know girls from the city.” 

you can barely remember the journey back up to your room, both of you taking staggered and exaggerated steps across the slippery cobblestone surface of the whiteridge plaza, fuelled by sex crazed hormones and the thirty-five percent alcohol drinks pumping through your systems. the pair of you had stumbled up the stairs, curious hands slipping between layers of clothes and laughter. the sight of bakugou trembling above you makes the judgemental stares jirou and momo had given you completely worth it. 

you’d failed to notice that their sights were set on the blonde and not you.

after making yourself comfortable—your tongue twists at his skin just above the button of his jeans, tasting the salt on him, sucking a cute little pink mark there so bakugou leaves here tonight with the memory of you and the best head he’ll ever get in his life. you’re almost ashamed to admit how fast your thighs squish and squeeze together as you peel back the fabric and reveal bakugou’s cock to your greedy gaze— you drink in the sight of him, heavy as his length thuds against his tummy due to the weight of it. his tip shines under the moonlight with a thin layer of white which only indicates just how turned on the blonde stranger is.

the rest of him is thick— mouthwatering— and you can feel saliva pooling on the palette of your tongue as you run your fingertips up the blue-ish, purple-ish forked veins that prettily decorate the man’s shaft and his balls sit heavy with cum.

the drooling only gets worse when you take hold of bakugou’s cock, feeling it twitch to life beneath your fingertips— your hand dwarfed by his size. you can only imagine the deliciousness of the stretch you’ll experience when he takes you later, you don’t think you can wait either. 

“c’mon princess,” bakugou grumbles, his voice carnivorous and eyes intense as you squeeze him lightly between smaller-than-his fingers. his broad chest rises and falls rapidly, face twisting in a salacious mix of pain and pleasure with every teasing pump you give his cock. “f-fuckin’ put that pretty mouth t’good use, yeah? since ya got s’much to— fuck… t’fuckin’ say…” your thumb just grazes the leaky slit running across the centre of his bulbous, blistering tip, and the plumpness of your lips trace over each pulsating vein that’s wrapped carefully around his length as if they’re a perfect bow on the perfect present just for you. “open wide, sweetheart.” 

you hardly know this man, but in the time you’ve spent together it’s easy to tell that he’s far from a patient one. bakugou is a go getter, he gets what he wants, when he wants and by whatever means— so he thrusts up, hurting his gooey-cockhead against the seam of your lips, glossing them up with a salty-sweet layer of precum. he flinches at the contact and his head falls back against the door with a dull thump, bakugou fighting back a timbre moan when your grip on him tightens and you palm starts to stroke him at a steady pace— slickening up the centre of your hand. 

experimentally, you kitten lick his tip and your own eyes flutter at the taste of him— it’s addictive, drugging you up with an agonisingly amatory desire. “no one’s ever made you wait, have they?” you ask, voice dripping dangerously with arousal before taking bakugou deep into the wet cavern of your mouth— the spark residing in his blood red eyes tells you that you’re right, but you have little time to focus on his answer now that you have the heavy weight of his cock sitting against your writhing pink tongue. your own eyes flutter at the feeling, drool pooling in your mouth like an erotically hot flash flood. you’re completely full, feeling as if the blonde is halfway down your throat already— and that very idea only makes you crave more. 

you want all of what bakugou has to offer, content with how he pushes further into your mouth until his balls sit on your chin and precum oozes in thick waves against your tastebuds. “oh fuck…yer tight. shit, sweetheart,”  he curses from above you, his brawny arm thrown over his face as it burns bright with heat— bakugou draws his hips back while panting, hands fisted at his sides as he barely escapes the clutches of your needy little mouth so he can give you room to breathe. he swears he might cum when he hears you gargling. “can’t wait to see ya fuckin’ cry fer this cock. g’nna make y’such a pretty mess…”

missing his dick inside your mouth, you lean forward, pawing at his spit-slicked erection like a desperate little puppy— flicking your wrist in quick movements as you glare up at him. “then stop interruptin’ me and let me suck yer fuckin’ cock.” you say breathlessly, with a twinge of your old accent before sucking your one night-stand down again. his angry, sticky cockhead bulges against the inside of your cheek, sensitive slit rubbing along the soft epidermis there, only making him shudder until his back and slender waist arch away from the door. 

bobbing your head, you waste no time in working up a pace fast enough to have the blonde above you melting like putty in your hands— you fist what doesn’t fit, the movement of your soft palms guided by the copious amounts of precum that leaks onto your tongue, that you spit out onto bakugou’s shaft only to slurp back up and repeat the process. 

you breathe harshly through your nose, hollowing your cheeks as your nails sink deep into bakugou’s toned, beefy and jean-covered thighs to steady yourself before the plunge— they twitch beneath your grip and his hands slowly make their way to the back of your head. with erogenous doe eyes full of delirium you push down on the blonde’s cock, letting it hit the back of your throat while you’re forced to gag on him— nose pressed into the fluff of his happy trail. 

“that’s it pretty girl, so fuckin’ pretty takin’ me like this, look s’good with my dick down that slutty throat,” bakugou drawls, his accent layered thick on top of his praise makes your own essence soak the crotch of your panties, makes your head dizzy too— though that may be because of the lack of oxygen you’re getting, struggling to breathe around the fat cock plugging your drooling mouth. 

both of you keep still, letting your jaw go slack around him. one second you’re nursing on his precum, giggling around him and the next bakugou is fucking your throat until it bulges, using it as his own personal fleshlight. a frothy mix of spit and pre dribbles down your chin— his balls slapping against them with every weighty thrust of the blonde’s hips.

you grip those same swollen balls, rolling them between your soft fingers, breaking bakugou’s mind. all the while, he throws his head back, deep and throaty whimpers escaping his lips that he has caught between a row of pearly white teeth. 

bakugou’s hips roll languidly into the addictive heat of your mouth, dopamine sparking in small explosions across his brain. he thrusts again, and again, and again— his pupils dilated like a rabid animal while his gaze hones in on the way your tight little throat takes him over and over. he doesn’t know how he’ll cope after tonight, if he’ll be able to survive without your greedy mouth happily sucking on his dick. 

sweat beads in fat droplets against bakugou’s hairline, soaking through his sweater before he lets you go to breathe— watching you slowly pull off his cock with arousal glossed lips, coughing as oxygen fills your lungs and your chest heaves. “what’s the matter?” you chuckle once you’ve regained composure, going back to making out with the sloppy tip of bakugou’s girth. “can’t keep up?” 

your hook-up laughs back, using the hem of his shirt to wipe his brow before shrugging it off. within seconds, he’s cupping the roundness of your face and his rough thumbs are digging deep into your soft cheeks.

“oh. i could go all fuckin’ night, sweetheart, whether you make me cum or not, ‘m gonna make sure i fuck that dirty lil’pussy ‘till you forget how t’walk.” 

bakugou slurs in his heavy southern accent like it’s a promise, grabbing your tiny hand ( at least compared to his calloused one ) and guiding it into a fist around his achey, creamy cock. staying haunched over you, he finds your lips— tugging the bottom one away from you with his teeth before capturing you fully in a searing, messy kiss. he simpers at the taste of himself on you, mixed with the sweat sitting on your cupid’s bow.

he laps at your mouth, cupping the back of your head to deepen the lip lock— both of you moaning like fools into one another’s mouths and swallowing your raunchy song of laments and whines. the tune is only accompanied by the slick, dewy sounds of your hand jerking bakugou off. his hips continue to ram forward, never letting up their aberrant and urgent rhythm— fuelled by your hook-up’s innate need to cum. 

“shit— ‘m right there… ‘m right fuckin’ there, sweetheart,” he pants against your tongue avidly, losing pieces of himself to you as you palm him faster and faster— the lewd mix of your drool and his arousal slinging from his cockhead to your knuckles. “gonna fuckin’ cum… g-g’nna fuckin’ cum!” 

you work at him for a few seconds longer, kissing his red-hot tip every time it peeks through your closed fist and using your other hand to circle the seat of your palm against it, too.

he leaks ungodly amounts of arousal the closer you take him to orgasm, the world seconds away from crumbling around bakugou’s crimson gaze. “gimme that cum,” you say lowly, voice dipping. “want all of it.” you command, causing the dam to break and bakugou to finally hit his high. strings of his hot, viscous seed spurt from his sore, ravaged cock, painting your tongue, face and chest in his possessive shade of white. 

“holy…holy fuckin’—shit!” bakugou cries out, and you don’t slow your fist around him until he’s done cumming, catching any smaller spurts of his orgasm with your eager tongue— looking up at your hook up with a smile as bright as the moon when he finally stops trembling and starts coming back down to earth. 

though there’s static ringing in his ears and bakugou’s legs are beyond weak thanks to the life shattering head you’d given him— he still finds the strength within himself to haul you up from your knees and push you back until you hit the plush bed on the other side of the room. you squeal, bouncing in the sheets and pillows, but can’t help the streak of excitement that runs through you when you catch the darkened expression on bakugou’s handsome features as he looks down at you splayed out for him. 

“t-take…take off those fuckin’ jeans ‘n let me get at that cunt, s’my turn now, sweetheart.” 

you do as you’re told, unbuttoning the denim that suddenly feels a little too tight around your waist and kick your jeans off before bakugou cages you in against the bed— two sturdy arms stay planted firmly either side of your head.

the scent of flowers mixed with cotton that was embedded into the sheets is quickly replaced with the heavy musk of sex and caramel, which radiates off of bakugou in strong waves as he swoops down for another kiss. it’s softer than before, more fluid as his hot fingertips push their limits and explore what hides beneath the underwire of your bra. the blonde gropes at your plush mounds of flesh, twisting a nipple between a thumb and forefinger and leaves a trail of burning kisses down your neck— chuckling darkly at your shoulder when a feather-light gasp escapes you.

“b-bakugou,” you murmur needily, arching your back on instinct while he moves to unclip your bra with practised ease. “bakugou, please.” you add, all other logical words wasted on you as he encapsulates your pebbled nipple in his mouth and runs his tongue over it in smooth, wet circles. the mattress dips beside you from where bakugou’s shifted his weight to lie on his side to your right. tufts of sand blonde hair tickle your skin only causing goosebumps to rise against it in a ripple effect. 

“hmm?” comes his lazy reply, the man still lapping at your heaving chest, all while sucking pretty marks against your tits that you know will feel tender to the touch in the morning. he only looks up at you when he switches, leaving one fleshy mound covered in saliva in favour for tending to the other. “try moanin’ my name. that’ll get my attention, sweetheart.” bakugou knows exactly what you want, what you crave for next— leaving you teetering on the edge of insanity with his hand smoothing over your tummy. it’s destination beyond the little bow on the hem of your mismatched panties. 

pouting, you let your hips rise from the sheets only to have them forcibly pushed back down. “you’ve told me your name,” you say in an exasperated cry that has built up in the back of your throat. “it’s baku—“ 

“katsuki…s’katsuki when yer moanin’ pretty f’me, baby.” bakugou— katsuki— cuts you off, pressing his thumb into the crotch of your underwear to get a feel for how wet you are. “fuck, yer soaked. y’get this wet from suckin’ a stranger's cock, hah?” you almost hate that him teasing you only serves to turn you on more, your tight little hole gushing and clenching around nothing. the blonde grins at the whimpers you let out through gritted teeth, carefully tracing the letters of his name into your swelling clit. 

reaching down, you grip katsuki’s wrist to keep him in place, locked between your thighs— as if he might choose to pull away from your honeyed cunt at your next words. “f-fuck you.”

“fuck me, baby?” he coos to you condescendingly, his teeth sinking into the shell of your ear. “don’t think yer pussy can handle that just yet, need’a stretch her open first.” the blonde pulls your trembling, doughy thighs apart until his palm can fully cup your sex— already so sticky and warm for him even through the thin layer of fabric. bakugou growls in satisfaction, yanking your panties to the side and watching with perverted crimson eyes as your slick ties the material to your dripping mound. 

“please katsuki!” you try again, wailing like a petulant child for something…anything to relieve you of the unbearable heat twisting knots of ecstasy in your lower belly. 

he tsks in response, pushing his lips into mocking pout as if to console a baby. “a’ight, a’ight…calm down sweetheart. y’want my fingers? wanna feel good?” the blonde says airily as he eases a single finger past your fluttering entrance, curling it immediately against your molten ichorous insides. lust lodges itself into your throat, a silent scream on the seam of your lips while you reach out for something to hold, to bring you back down from cloud nine. 

your fingernails take residence in the pure white sheets beneath your writhing body and with your other hand, make a home for themselves in katsuki’s bulging biceps as he starts to finger you. they break crescent moons against sunshine skin, not hard enough to draw blood but enough to leave a reminder of your night with him.

he pushes in another digit alongside the first, slipping into you with a little resistance from just how thick they are. marvelling at the sensation of you rippling around him, of how hot your inner walls feel, bakugou curls his fingers once again— causing lewd, squelching sounds to reverberate in the air between your sweat-slicked bodies.

his dull fingertips brush against pleasure spots inside you that you didn’t even know existed, silver tears blessed by the moon starting to clump in your lashes, threatening to spill over at any moment. 

“yer so fuckin’ sensitive,” your hook up muses outloud ruthlessly. he forgets that he’s being mean, too entranced by the way your cute little sex sucks him in— tries so hard to stop his fingers from pulling out. “this fucked up from grindin’ against my thigh? from a couple of fingers? ‘ve barely even touched ya.” he’s forced to grind the seat of his palm against your puffy clit, helping your tight hole ease up just enough for him to pull his fingers back with your sweet juices running down his wrist before he pumps them forward— sending you into a fit of squeals. 

your brain actually lags, failing to register katsuki’s rapid and ravaging movements between your thighs that send your manuka honey mess flying up his arm and across your skin. he has your eyes rolling back into the abyss of your skull, your legs locking around his wrist and trapping him in place so that he can send you to the high heavens of electrifying pleasure over and over again. 

he’s reduced you to a puddle against the bed, all moans and hiccuped sobs and begs for mercy. you can’t breathe, can’t feel anything as bakugou continues his erotic assault on your ravaged pussy— searching for that one spot inside you that he knows will shut your brain off for good. “d’awh, that’s it baby, look at that pretty pussy— she likes gettin’ finger fucked like this. i can fuckin’ tell,” he rambles, a man lost in the sight of your arousal spewing out of your spasming hole in small streams every time he thrusts his fingers into you. “you spread your legs like this fer every man you meet?”

shaking your head, you can’t help the pathetic yowl that tumbles from your cherry-bitten lips when katsuki pins your hips to the ruined duvet— stopping you from chasing the blinding ecstasy he dangles in front of you like a carrot for a working horse.

“n-nuh..n-no.” 

“no?” your hook up smiles, pearly whites on display. you’re so cute underneath him, letting him stroke your enticing, sopping insides into the shape of him— preparing you to take him later on. the way you twitch and stir against the sheets with your mouth so full of saliva and your tongue rolling out over the plumpness of your lips. you’re such a fucking mess, but it pleases katsuki to no end. to have a stranger this fucked up and all for him.

“just the ones with blonde hair ‘n red eyes that say just what’cha like to hear, hah?” your feedback is nonexistent aside from your useless babbles that katsuki swallows, losing his battle in the urge to kiss you once again. he burns right through you, frying your nerve endings and neurons carrying logical thought across your brain. 

instead, katsuki fills you like an overflowing glass with pure, unadulterated bliss— forcing it into your bloodstream like alcohol, poisoning your veins with a slow stack of pleasure. building the stairs to your high. letting your lips go, he leans down to spit onto your pulsing mound, rubbing the frothy mix of your shared saliva into your budding pleasure nub, making you open up for him like a blooming flower even though it’s the middle of winter. 

your mind is still blank when the blonde speaks again, only grabbing your attention with a sharp slap to the cunt. “can’t even fuckin’ answer me that’s how much of a messy slut you are.” katsuki snarls mean, but angles his hand just right to press sweetly against your g-spot, grinning when your face crumples at the new pressure.

“‘m going to cum, katsuki.” you tell him earnestly, squeezing his bicep at the same time your cunt squeezes down on his fingers— practically falling apart on them. 

tilting his head to the side, katsuki speeds up the unrelenting pace of his digits thrusting in and out of you— pressing encouraging smooches to your shoulder as he watches you lose the fight to your high. “c’mon then, can feel ya clenchin’ around my fingers. make a mess on ‘em, sweetheart. so i can fuck ya nice ‘n proper after.” and your body follows his raspy command, reaching your orgasm with a high pitched and borderline pornographic moan, squirting hard right up katsuki’s arm and virtually forcing him out of you with how much leaks from your pulsating gushing cunt. 

katsuki gives you a second to calm down, nosing at your neck while your breathing slows and you feel ready enough to keep going. “can you take another?” he asks you huskily, slipping his fingers into his mouth with a moan— tasting your nectar on him. 

“i thought you said you were g’nna fuck me. good ‘n proper?” you slur, old accent slipping through when you finally open your eyes to look at him. bakugou shines all while smirking down at you, the crown of sweat on his head illuminated by the moonlight— giving him the appearance of an angel. maybe you’ve scored lucky tonight, comforted by the presence of your own angel after the loss of your mother. maybe that’s fucked up too, but you push the thought to the back of your mind— reaching up to soft blonde locks and tug him down for a wet, encouraging kiss. 

“a’ight, roll over baby. ass up, i’ll give ya what’cha want.” bakugou grunts smugly, tracing your hips as you roll onto your tummy and tuck your face into the pillows. “you know how fuckin’ gorgeous you are? your body…s’perfect,” he grabs handfuls of your ass, pulling your cheeks apart slowly as threads of your arousal drip between them. “y’want a condom? ‘m clean, but i wanna make sure yer comfortable.”

casting a sultry glance over your shoulder, you debate the choice. while you’re sure katsuki would feel amazing raw, you know for a fact your publicist would chew your head off for possibly getting pregnant and or sick from fucking a stranger before a funeral. so you decide to be smart, for once, and give him a nod. 

“gonna need a verbal response, sweetheart.” 

rolling your hips back until your ass pushes back against his growing erection. “a condom, please, katsuki.” 

he pats your bottom once, watching it jiggle proudly before reaching into his back pocket for a silver packet and shrugging off the rest of his jeans. sharp teeth sink into the curve of your behind, accompanied by sloppy kisses at the dimple of your spine and right up to your shoulder blades. “so you do follow orders…good girl,” he simpers, tearing the condom open with his piercing canines before rolling it onto his pulsing girth in one fluid motion. 

it’s not long before bakugou finds himself at your neck again, the knife-like edges of his teeth sinking into your neck while he lets you adjust to the weight of his body caging you in against the sheets. “you ready f’me, baby? ‘m gonna give you my cock now. wanna make sure you can take it.” he interrogates you lightly, searching the sex tainted air in the room for your consent, brushing his lips along your neckline and shoulders patiently.

“y-yeah. can take it, katsuki,” you stutter and rest your head back against his shoulder, bowing your body into his with a pleasingly fuzzy mind. grunting in approval, bakugou uses his knee to part you by the soiled meat of your thighs and spread you open for him again— manhandling you until you’re positioned in a way he likes.

grabbing hold of his dripping dick, katsuki runs his shaft through the length of your quivering pussy lips, grinding it against the heartbeat in your clit and tapping your clenched hole a few times before he whines needily at the sticky and indecent sounds your sexes make when they slot together perfectly.

you’re so wet, oozing at every chance you get, breathing hot and heavy as the blonde slips his mushroomed tip past your tight entrance— he snickers smugly at how well you take him and so fast, clamping down on katsuki as if never to let him go. he rocks his hips experimentally, testing your sensitivity and how badly you want him by fucking you with only the tip at first— taking at you when you whine.

pushing back onto him, pleading with your body for more— you sigh desperately. “don’t tease, bakugou…” 

“s’katsuki,” bakugou cups your throat as he corrects you, giving it a reassuring squeeze as his nose nudges the side of your head. “hold on f’me baby, doin’ such a good job. waitin’ to be fucked. have a little patience, will ya?” he rasps, taunting you as he thrusts all the way in, hips flush against your fleshy ass and bottoming out inside the warmth of your crying cunt. he sticks a thumb in your mouth to pacify your cloying cries— letting you suck on it as he pushes your arched back down onto the sheets and relishes in the warmth of your sloppy, syrupy walls wrapped around his painfully bricked up shaft.

and while he loves the feeling— katsuki finds it within himself to pull back from your selfish and darling little hole to set a sensual, deep-hitting tempo, dragging his seedy latex covered tip along your ribbed walls and pleasure spots. he rolls his hips like a rushing river, making sure that they hit so deep you feel him stirring up your guts.

the sheer force of his thrusts already have the headboard bouncing off of the wall, tearing crybaby-like and pitiful yelps from between your cherry-bitten and tear stained lips. katsuki takes rein over your body like a barbarian brute claiming occupied land, ruling over what little thought runs through your mind. your hands take purchase in the poor pillows bellow you— the ones that swallow your gluttonous screams while you’re fucked to the moon and back, stars dotting your tear lined vision.

mind blanking, there’s hardly anything left for you to do except take what you’re given while bakugou takes you from behind— moulding your insides into his shape with every wild and feverish buck of his hips into yours. “f-fuck, katsuki. m-more, need it!” you squeal hungrily, succumbing to his intensity as you throw your sticky ass back onto him in your best attempt to match his rhythm. squeezing around every pulsing vein that decorates his fat, milky cock while it pushes and pulls at your gummy walls with lewd squelches, bakugou nudges your g-spot over and over again. “god, fuck…you’re so deep.” 

“yer such a greedy girl, so eager to get fucked by the first man who calls ya pretty.” katsuki moans condescendingly, thrusting his thumb past your lips in perfect harmony with his dick plunging into your tight hole. using his free hand, the blonde grabs at your ass and spreads your slicked up cheeks apart— working himself further into your heat, stretching you open for him and him alone.

“love the way you feel around me, sweetheart, how you suck me in.” the praise relieves any anxiety that rattled through your body before— a lustful haze fogging your mind so you don’t have to think for yourself for once. it’s like bakugou knows the pain  whiteridge has caused you, knows what it’s like to be forced away from what you love and written behind his rough touches is a sense of sympathy. 

you hate the feeling of sympathy, but crave the numb mind you know that sex with katsuki bakugou can give you— even if that makes you a self-centred brat. “actually you’re the second to have—oh fuck!” you choke on the tail end of your words as bakugou lands a sharp spank against your bottom, a different kind of pain blooming under the skin there. it makes you drip nastily, juices running down bakugou’s length until it practically bathes his balls as they clap against the curve of your ass, heavy and full of a brand new load of cum just for you, ruining the sheets and blankets in turn.

the way he fucks you is hard, pounding you into the mattress which spring’s squeak for dear life. katsuki ravages you like he loves you— though he hardly knows you…but you feel his vulnerability, what you’re sure you’d see in the red hues of his eyes if you were on your back instead. 

“‘m always gonna be first, baby,” bakugou growls like a feral animal, pressing his body hotly against yours until his chest is to your sweaty back, hardly peeling away from you. greed, anguish and yearning spark within you both, their explosions compressed between your bodies as they move in sync— skin meeting skin, slapping throughout the hotel room.

“the first person y’think about when you touch yerself after this, first dick you’ll imagine when you’re gettin’ fucked by any person after me—“ the blonde’s voice is tight, stuck on the ridges of his throat as he pounds away at your creamy pussy, just brushing against your cervix in a way that has you howling at the moon. your core locks and unlocks around the curve of his dick, choking precum out of katsuki, fat drops of it beading at his sensitive slit— making him falter for only a second.” r’member sweetheart, i. never. fucking. lose.”

katsuki punctuates each of his words with lunges of his hips forward, practically forcing you up the bed since you wobble weakly on your hands and knees. you’re sure that by now your nails have torn holes in the linen below from how much you’ve gripped and scratched at them— but the amount couldn’t even begin to compare to how much of his precum smears along the inside of the condom, which slides against your wrecked insides, juices drooling down your thighs in a honeyed, viscous and gooey mess each time bakugou jackhammers into you. “you’re s’fuckin’ filthy,” he drawls, red stare laser focused on where your bodies meet. “remind me, sweetheart, who’s makin’ you such a fuckin’ mess?” 

“y-you!” you babble brainlessly, somehow finding the strength to reach behind you to grab at straw blonde hair— forcing katsuki back onto his haunches while you bring him down for an uncoordinated kiss. you mewl happily at the taste of salt on his cupid’s bow and shift onto your knees as well. he grins, licking impressed curse words into your mouth as he gets the idea— a singular arm of his curling around the fat at your waist to support you as you bounce back onto his thick cock. “you make me a mess, katsuki, only you.” you mumble against his swollen lips, spewing the lust blown words against his strawberry tongue and memorising the taste of sex in his mouth while he fumbles around your connected bodies to toy with your pleasure nub. 

appeased by your hands lost in his hair and your pussy working itself down on him, sucking him in like magic— katsuki rewards you with a pinch to your clit and a barrage of love bites along the column of your throat, grinning wicked at the ocean deep purples and blues begin to blossom underneath your skin. “wanna see you cum f’me like this, stuff you full. y’deserve it, baby. fer grindin’ this cute lil’ cunt down on me.” he wants it, so bad— you can tell by the way he pulses to life inside of you, drives his dick upwards to chase the sweltering heat of your mound and your arousal every time you pull off of him only to slam back down.

bakugou pushes his creamy cock deep, deeper, as far as it can go until your back arches away from the safety of his chest and your lips part in loud, open mouthed moans— all with the hope of sending you over the edge, to make sure he stays true to his word and has you hooked on the way he fucks for weeks and weeks on end. “god, you make me wanna lose it.” 

you’ll remember nothing else but the shape of him, once you’re out of this hell hole. 

and neither of you can tell who wants that more.

vulnerability trickles into the air, intertwining with the heartache that neither of you dare to voice but anchors you both down to the same shitty town. bakugou changes the angle of his hips, grinding it so that his bulbous cockhead never lets up on that one special spot inside of you— sending shocks of serotonin, dopamine and other happy sex hormones from your brain straight to the tips of your toes. they curl and your fingers clench, pulling on katsuki’s hair so hard that it lulls a desperate bleat out of him while his freehand brushes over your nipples in a weak attempt to drag you towards your high. 

his lashes tickle your shoulders as he buries his face against you, praises and curses drenching your skin— alternating between little nips here and there. neither of you seem to care when bakugou breaks skin, your blood on his lips. “a-are you close?” you simper, tears of lust dotting your lashes as he slams his cock into your tight hole over and over again. “‘m sorry…don’t think i can—oh shit— hold it, ka’suki!” 

he nods his head at your question, eyes screwed shut while you gush all about the place. “cum f’me, let go. don’t need’ya t’hold on, sweetheart,” he moans to you through gritted teeth, rolling your clit between a finger and thumb, grinding his tip into your pleasure spot. “‘m right behind ya…oh fuck! there we go,” he squeezes your swollen nub once, cooing to you through a chuckle as white flashes behind your eyes and the damn finally breaks— release trickling from your body in clear streams. bakugou swallows the scream of his name that rips through you, holding you tight through the aftershocks of your high before he follows you over the edge. 

you’re still twitching when he pulls out of you and shoves you face first into the bed— tearing off the condom to jerk himself off over you, hot stripes of his seed landing against your back, potent and milky before exhaustion settles into his bones and katsuki collapses to the right of you once again. 

the pair of you lay there, together in a comfortable silence as you catch your breaths, neither of you having the brain capacity to speak just yet. you roll over to face the blonde stranger, not sure if your night together solicits the comfort you crave after being fucked stupid. “c’mere,” bakugou says tiredly, though his eyes are still closed. “can feel you starin’ at me… ‘nd contrary to your first thoughts on me from the bar, ‘m not entirely an asshole.” he cracks one eye open to look at you expectantly— lifting an arm up so you can snuggle into his chest. 

you take the chance before he can change his mind, settling against katsuki sleepily. “you might not be an asshole but you fuck like one,” you laugh into his skin, feeling his chest rise and fall with yours. “which is a good thing, by the way.” 

“i’d hope so. i didn’t wreck yer shit only t’get called a terrible fuck.” katsuki smirks. “where’s my thanks, by the way?”

“you can have the free hotel soaps ‘nd first dibs on the shower in the morning, that good enough for you, blondie?” you shoot back, fighting back the sleep beginning to creep up on you.

it’s a fight worth losing though, for bakugou makes sure to pull enough blankets over you both for a good night’s sleep, barely hanging on himself.

“ya got’cha self a deal, sweetheart.” is the last thing you hear him say, before drifting off to sleep. 

you wake up the next day with a steady pound against the inside of your skull, the world spinning as if someone has grabbed you by the head and shaken up your brain— like a never ending rollercoaster with enough twists and loops to make you want to spew out your guts. it’s still dark outside, from what you can tell, and winter’s grasp on the early morning sky is as strong as ever, fighting off the sun’s need to rise.

in the inky abyss of your hotel room, you shift around the bed in search for your phone— finding it plugged in and fully charged on the nightstand next to you…though you don’t remember doing so last night. there’s a few emails from mina asking you if you arrived safely, some tweets from fans playfully complaining about the cliffhanger ending of your last book and one message from the funeral director with a few details about today’s plans. 

funeral director at 6:29 AM - the procession starts at 8:30 AM sharp! ceremony will last until 3:50 PM taking place at ‘the freedom’ chapel with any celebration taking place at your old residence at—

clicking your phone shut, you don’t bother to read the rest of the text and stare blankly at yourself on its screen. she, your reflection, looks back at you tiredly, mascara clumped in your lashes and panda circles around your eyes— you feel a little greasy, feel exhaustion in your bones like weights have been tied to you only to pull you down. 

she did this to you, the person who was supposed to raise you, left you a hollow mess and a void of emotion who couldn’t feel a single thing towards her death except for fear or anxiety. 

your mother. 

turning on the bedside lamp, you’re immediately met with the sight with a note, orange juice and an array of medications to combat your raging hangover— a piece of bakugou left with you after your whirlwind of a night together. you pop the pills and swallow the juice with a twitch of your face at how bitter it tastes after being so freshly squeezed, and through the clarity of your glass you spot your freshly pressed clothes across the room for the funeral. a simple black, sleek jumpsuit and matching blazer. crisp and hanging from the wardrobe. 

a kind gesture from a man you hardly knew, spoke volumes compared to what you’d been shown as a child. 

it wasn’t anything close to the love you needed, but it was the kindness that you deserved all along. 

you don’t go down for breakfast, with barely two hours to get ready and be on your way. showering off the grit, grime and sex from the night before and slip into your clothes— into someone new. a woman who’s meant to miss her mother and not the woman who had been forced to grow up fast and raise herself. by the time you’re all dressed and ready for the day’s events, you’d only just remembered the note left by your hook up from the night before so you swipe it up from your mess on the bed, tucking it into your designer bag and slide on your red-bottom heels.

“o-oh! you look nice,” momo chirps after you come down from the landing, heels clicking against the trusty wooden flooring of the hotel. her hair is notably slicked back, wearing a form fitting black dress as she checks over her front of the house book. “i love your—“ pulling up your shades with leather gloved hands, you smile bright at the hostess and makes her stutter— red painted lips seeping into your cheeks. “look. you look beautiful.” 

you reach the receptionist’s desk in three short strides and clicks, and hum with appreciation. “a girl’s gotta show up and show out at these things, don’t you agree?” you say, and you’re sure she might think you’re insane for the nonchalant front you have up. “where are you headed looking so pretty?” 

“the funeral,” jirou responds for her, appearing from the back in the same manner as before, dressed in a similar manner to her partner. “we uh— our parents were invited along.” 

momo adds on. “a-and! we thought you could do with the company, since you’re here for your mother’s funeral alone and all. we could even go together! i can't image how hard this must all be!“

“it’s not hard,” you snap without meaning to and your back straightens like a steel rod. though you hadn’t cared enough to think of a guest list, telling the organisers to invite whoever they pleased so long as they got the job done, you didn’t anticipate that they would hand out passes to everyone in town— to everyone who hated you. “and thank you for the offer ladies, but i have a car waiting for me. i’ll send it back later for my luggage.”

turning swiftly on your designer heels, you leave the hostess couple before you can feel a flick of remorse— before they can see even a crack in the foundation of walls you’d spent years building up. because no one deserves to know how much this town and your mother hurt you. no one.

it’s not hard. today will be easy. you tell yourself, buckling yourself into the black expensive car that’ll be parading you around all day— following right behind the hearse, carrying the villain from your childhood inside. with some time alone before being exposed to the fake tears and falsely sympathetic apologies, you dig into your bag for the note from bakugou, thumb trailing over his chicken scratch handwriting on the front of the folded paper.

‘good luck out there tomorrow or break a leg, whatever they say. give this town fucking hell like you did me last night.

— k.bakugou.’ 

his words bring an eruption of laughter out of you. so like him, though you’re not really sure what him really is. katsuki bakugou is a man you shared a night of passion with, not a friend you’ve known all your life— even if flashes of a face so similar to his resonate with memories of your brother and your childhood. your heart settles then, right there in your chest, no longer battling the anxiety of facing your old home and all its inhabitants. 

and maybe, you’re not alone in all this— maybe really you do have an ally here. 

you’re not unfamiliar with the concept of death, nor sudden ones either. you have your older brother, izuku to blame for that. 

your memories of him had always been fond. you remember luscious curls of evergreen hair and sun-spotted freckles that looked like the constellations he’d point out to you through the bedroom window late at night. his hands were warm, always handling you with care as if you were a wounded baby bird— especially when you’d cried or scraped your knee. you remember how smart he was, nose always buried deep into a book rather than going outside to kick rocks and snap twigs with the other boys his age. you remember loving izuku, chest bursting with adoration and admiration whenever you looked at your brother because he always held the same emotions when his forest eyes were settled on you. 

he was only a few years older, but he felt like your platonic soulmate— your twin flame. back then, your mother had always said you were inseparable, when it was just the three of you in your big, old and creaky house on the far side of the town. you were happy then. without your dad who had left you, you were happy. and even then, with only a few years of life under your belt, you knew that izuku would be your person forever. 

what a naive and childish wish you’d had. 

nothing lasts forever; not every flower on the forest blooms into something brilliant. some things die, outcompeted by others in the quest for survival. you wanted that for izuku— so badly— wanted that for you both together. 

one day he was there, and another, he was gone. 

izuku midoriya died just shy of his eleventh birthday— in the summer when whiteridge was warm and the golden leaves hadn’t fallen and the rivers hadn’t frozen over yet. for everyone except your mother, his death was an unfortunate accident, a miscalculation and a misstep on your brother’s part. he was smart, but accidents don’t happen to smart people— is what your mother lived by. his death was no mistake to her, and she chased every single lead until she’d chased away everything and everyone in town trying to prove that. 

she gave up her duty. she was the town’s main source of produce and other food products, and while she was allowed to feel her pain and, to cry for help like any grieving mother would— loosing her only son and in that process, she’d given up on the town’s people and her job leading the grocers to feed everyone. 

even when your dear izuku was put into the ground, his soul could not rest— because your mother was no longer looking out for you. instead, she searched for whatever truth she thought lay behind his death. your only parent neglected you, subjected you to the vicious cruelty to the people in the town who had thought she’d gone mad trying to find something that wasn’t there. 

from the moment izuku died, you no longer had a mother or a brother or a family to fall back on. you only had yourself, and what you could do to take care of your inner child. you didn’t have time to grieve, to cry after losing your soulmate because of how much your mother needed someone to keep her alive and eating and drinking and bathing. for years, you were her lifeline; for years, you were her shield and her foundation until you could no longer handle it. 

until you had to run away. 

so, of course, you’re no stranger to the black mist known as death that had taken the precious light from your only sibling and clouded your mother’s judgement. maybe that’s the sick reason why you feel numb and look as blank as a canvas during the entirety of your mother’s funeral service. it’s beautiful, you suppose— the organ playing while someone blathers on and on about the miracle of life and the woes of death.

but you hate the entirety of it— how people speak of the woman who failed at raising you as if they knew her personally. you’re surrounded by people who hide their resentment for the midoriya name behind fake tears they’d cultured in their eyes. you catch it in slight twitches in their faces while whiteridge townsfolk mutter their fondest encounters with your mom with wobbles in their voices that sound overly rehearsed and pauses in the perfect places that give others the time to weep. the whole ordeal makes you feel queasy and sick to your stomach, how these people can find the most tender words to speak all while holding some of the most blackened hearts you’ve ever come across right in their chests— beating selfishly strong. 

you sit alone, on the front pew of the chapel— radiating resentment in thick waves. for your mother, for whiteridge, for even your darling brother. wishing that he never left you, so that he could be sitting right next to you right now, suffering with you through this ceremony. wondering what life would be like if he were still by your side. would the people of whiteridge have turned their backs on you if he were still here? 

would he hold your hand as they lowered your mother’s casket into the dirt a few paces away from where his lay? 

the day doesn’t end at the chapel, plenty of cars clog the driveway to your mother’s house where the ‘after-party’ is being held. though the place is rackety and a little gross, the organisers had done it up well enough for people to forget the death that lingers in every corner as they pop open bottles of expensive wine and champagne you’d had imported for the very occasion. they’re hypocrites. celebrating her death rather than the life she lead— and perhaps that makes you the same, being relieved that she’s no longer breathing to torture you with how much more she loved your brother compared to you. 

everywhere you turn, there’s someone apologising to you, someone patronisingly telling you that they’re sorry for your loss and wishing you well in wherever life may take you next, cooing at you about how good you look and how pretty you’ve gotten since they last saw you. you wonder if they really pity you for having no family or if they’re after the fortune and name you’ve made for yourself since leaving town. you’d changed, of course, carried a classy air about you and that was enough to fuel their gossip for weeks.

they were all but dying to ask you about how wealthy you were now. after all, your outfit cost a fortune. neighbours and doctors and store owners and highschool classmates that you used to know suffocate you with their condolences until you feel like you really might cry from how overwhelmed you are— it’d be the first time that day. 

hastily, you make a break from the kitchen for a moment to breathe— taking large gulps of air as you steady yourself against the rusting, cool metal of the kitchen sink. “give ‘em hell, he said,” you chuckle to yourself, reminding yourself of the words bakugou had left you with. “more like they’re giving me hell.” you wonder where he is, almost everyone in town is here invading your childhood home and your personal space… you’d have thought he would’ve at least been one of those people but then again, he was just like you.

he fucking hated this place. you grab a full bottle of aged red wine and a handful of hors d’oeuvres that have yet to be served up and shove them down your throat— chewing at them unceremoniously just to kill time and give yourself a moment to think.

it’ll only be a few more hours until you run out of the alcohol that warms them up and loosens their lips, then you’ll have the house to yourself— see over a few repairs and head back to the city within the week. free of all of your childhood trauma and hopefully enough material to write a short book on your life so you can please mina, your publicist. until then, you decide, you’ll camp out here in the kitchen where it’s safe and quiet and peaceful. 

at least that’s what you thought.

“i am so sorry for your loss.” a nasally voice cuts through your silence and you sigh, exasperated. 

popping the cork on the wine bottle in hand, you take a swig before turning around to superficially thank your guest. “that’s so kind of you to say…” you begin, voice trailing off and gaze dropping a few centimetres as you meet the beady eyes of an old schoolmate. 

“you probably don’t remember me, now that’cha all big and famous. we went to school together, i sat next to you in calculus. i’m minoru—“ 

“mineta.” you finish for the purple haired male with an obvious grimace and sip your wine again, leaning back against the kitchen counter. “i remember you. you peaked up my skirt every day throughout highschool ‘n tried to sell my underwear after gym twice a week in senior year.” you state, tongue glossing over your teeth from under your painted red lips. “you made my life a living hell.” 

you hated him, it burns bright in your eyes as you look down on mineta. you hated everyone who watched on as he made a fool of you throughout your teen years. you hated this place.

he laughs you off, taking a step closer to you and you stand up straight. “let’s put that in the past shall we? we were just kids!” mineta gestures between the two of you, making the hairs on your neck stand up on end. “besides, we both know you could’a done with the cash. since your mom went kinda cookoo ‘n wasn’t supporting you—“ 

“what do you want?” you breathe out, frustrated and hot under the collar, torn between throwing up and killing the man. “you still here to bother me, mineta?” you’re not the same girl you were in highschool, a victim to your mother’s mistakes and the cruelty of the people around you. but, fucking hell, it stings. to have come all this way as someone who established herself as a writer, with more fame and fortune than this town can ever hope to see— only to be seen as an easy target again, like you’re a worthless piece of meat.

“i just wanted you to know, that if you ever need anything,” mineta winks, his behaviour scummy and reminiscent of your old school days. “then ‘m right here to—“ 

“help?” a timbre, calm voice cuts through— making the short and slimey man before you jump out of his skin. “she won’t be needin’ any of that from you, minoru.” 

looking up, relief and recognition washes over you. your saviour looks a little different than you remember, but his ruby gem eyes are still warm and still safe— he’s a lot taller now, a broad strapping young man that has to duck as he makes himself known in your mother’s tiny and cluttered kitchen. locks of silky, eye-catching cherry hair would have been tumbling down his back had it not been effortlessly thrown up into a fitting man bun. he glows, skin golden and clear— with only a few scars littering his bulging arms, peeking out from his rolled up sleeves. his suit jacketed abandoned somewhere else in the house. 

“k-kirishima!” mineta squeaks.

“why don’cha head outside, minoru? i heard they’re startin’ to serve up cake. wouldn’t want ya to miss out.” though he says his words slowly and his handsome face remains kind, there’s something eerily threatening about the way kirishima speaks to the other man that makes him scramble outside to join your other unwanted guests. “hey,” the redhead greets you next, muttering your name and approaching you as if you’re a deer about to be spooked. “you okay?” 

letting out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding, you nod your head vigorously and set down your wine— face bursting with your first genuine smile of the evening. “well, if it isn’t eijirou kirishima!” you squeal excitedly, tipsily thrusting yourself into his arms and giving him a tight squeeze. 

eijirou kirishima was probably the one thing that kept you sane during your time at whiteridge. growing up, he was the boy next door, the one who always had missing teeth but the biggest grin you’d ever seen. and even though you’d spent most of your childhood by izuku‘s side, you remember afternoons full of sunshine playing with the redhead from across the street, digging up worms and rolling in mud puddles that you’d both get in trouble for doing later on. you were close, up until you lost your brother.

other parents keeping their children away from you didn’t stop eijirou from splitting his lunch with you at recess or lending you his protractor in geometry class ( in exchange for your help, of course, it wasn’t his strongest subject ). 

the pair of you officially cut ties when kirishima didn’t continue with highschool in favour for taking over the family repair business— and after you’d graduated, you skipped town, not leaving him with anything to contact you by. so eventually, you lost touch. 

“lil’ midoriya!” eijirou cheers back, arms wrapping around your waist to squeeze you into him. his hugs were always incredibly comforting, and being tucked into the plushness of his chest does wonders for soothing your inner turmoil. “s’been a while.” 

“i-uh, i actually don’t go by that name anymore,” you mumble to him, feeling like a sheepish school girl under his inquisitive gaze. 

“oh yeah, i forgot. yer like some big-shot writer now, huh? ya even look the part!” kirishima keeps his hands on you as he pulls back to give you a once over, twirling you lightly while the fabrics of your clothes fly about.

you can’t quite place it, how he makes you feel so small, in a good way but you don’t dwell on it— happiness simmering in your veins instead of anguish. for once. “i haven't completely changed! like you said…it’s just been a while!” 

“change ain’t a bad thing, darlin’,” he grins, the casual use of the pet name nearly making you short-circuit. “but ya did lose yer accent.” 

“oh my god, shut up! you’re like the third person who’s mentioned my accent since i’ve been back!” 

the pair of you share a laugh, which quickly fizzles into thin air as nostalgia clouds over you both. kirishima hasn’t heard you laugh in almost a decade, and you haven’t seen him at all in the same amount of time. he slowly lets you go, and an odd mix of pity and sadness crosses his features as he looks down at you. “ya looked so gloomy t’day. i-i wanted to speak with you earlier. it’s just…been so long,” he whispers, the happiness of the previous moment fading away. “you can’t be holdin’ up well.” 

you’ve tried your hardest, not to feel sadness, to seem weak in front of the adults who failed you as a child. but it has been hard. your mother is gone; your brother is gone; and even though it always has been just you— that feeling is even more real to you now. 

shaking your head, you blink back tears you didn’t know had, as if it’ll make them stop. “i’m not,” you reply quietly. “but such is life, right? we’re all a little miserable.” 

kirishima hums in agreement but doesn’t seem pleased with your answer. “wanna get outta here? looks t’me like you could do with a lil’break. my moms are around, they could clear this place out while we go for a drive?” he suggests without thinking, the kindness in his heart speaking for him. 

eijirou’s always been like that. kind.

he was one of the few people in your life to show true kindness to you. 

so trusting him blindly, and without hesitation, you take the metaphorical hand he holds out to you and give him a simple…

“yes, i’d love to.” 

“r’member when we were little, ‘nd izuku used to make us sneak out t’come watch shooting stars ‘nd meteor showers?”

like he’d promised, kirishima took you for a drive ten or fifteen minutes just outside of whiteridge where the woods are peaceful and the sky is clearest. it had gotten dark, fast, the moon making herself at home up above and her children shining bright right along with her as your red haired companion parked up just shy of a spot you recognised from when you were kids.

the little clearing, you remember frequenting, was surrounded by the cool scent of pine as if it were a blanket— crystal streams running through with a soft rippling tune to them, and the perfect view of every star ever to be named if you find yourself there on a clear night. its almost ironic how eijirou had driven you here, as if he knew you needed a moment with your brother after such an emotionally draining day. even after all of these years, he still knows you, what comforts you when you’re overwhelmed and need a breath of fresh air. 

kirishima sits in the back of his truck, leaning back with eyes illuminated by the balls of fire burning a million miles away as he speaks. he looks to you after— his face soft and smile…adorably toothy. his entire aura, comforting. 

you turn to face him with a warm smile of your own, fixing his suit jacket that he’d given you over your frame, your fingers just barely peeking out of the sleeves. “yeah, and you used to make me hold your hand ‘cause you were scared of walking here in the dark.” you’re teasing the red head as if no time has passed, like you’re still that little squadron of neighbours and other kids that would follow your brother’s lead. kirishima was just the one you were closest to out of all your older brother’s friends. he lets you saddle up to him once you get cold, wrapping a bulking arm around you— his hand on your knee, practically dwarfing you in size. 

“it was f’protection!” eijirou whines as you nestle yourself into him, praying that you don’t hear fast and hard his heart is beating. 

“oh sure, for protection,” scoffing, you don’t even bother looking up at your old friend— choosing to press the chub of your right cheek further into his warmth. “it was like you were in love with me or something.”

it’s a joke, initially. you’re still teasing him like you would have when you were younger— back then you thought you were the only pretty girl eijirou knew. he was much more squirmish and easily flustered back then. and even though it feels like no time has gone by, kirishima has gotten bolder. he doesn’t try to push you away, but instead pinches your waist playfully and rests his head on top of yours as if to hide his raging red cheeks under the guise of keeping you warm. 

“…’nd what if i had been.”

a comfortable silence settles between you both in the back of eijirou’s truck— punctuated by the odd chirps of wild animals and the bristle of the trees around you. “then i wish you’d have said something…maybe i would’ve stuck around.” you say quietly, your voice a little hoarse from the alcohol you’d consumed earlier on in the day. 

you feel him shake his head above you, soft hair tickling your forehead. “then i’d just have been holdin’ you back,” kirishima tells you like he means it, as if he knew the outcome of telling you how he really felt in the past. he doesn’t want you to dwell, to feel regret on a day of loss like this. “i mean look at’cha! you’ve got the job of your dreams. you’re successful. ya must be happy!”

your response is immediate and solemn, your pretty features airbrushed with an unwritten expression. “i wouldn’t quite call it happiness, eiji.” in the mess of your limbs huddled for heat, you walk your digits down the length of the red head’s arm and play with his fingers timidly. “but look at you! you’ve grown so much, i’m sure i used to be taller than you.”

“oh yeah?” kirishima doesn’t like that you’re sad. he spent too much of his teen years watching you drown in it. “well maybe—!”  pulling himself off of you ( regretfully ), he quickly hops off the truck to stand between your legs— hoisting you by the backs of your thighs into the air so he can twirl you around in his arms. “you just got shorter!”  the night sky twists into a Milky Way cocktail above you, pure and genuine laughter spilling from between your lips ( your lipstick has long worn off by now ) as you hook your ankles at the small of kirishima’s back to keep yourself secure.

coming to a standstill once more so he can catch his breath, your childhood friend brushes a thumb over your hip before he whispers to you. “…there’s one other reason why i dragged you out here.” he says your name, garnering your attention.

“and what might that be?”

“my moms wanted to know when i’d be able to start the repairs on your house, they got the call from your solicitor a couple days ago and—“

your nails dig into his broad shoulders out of excitement, head whipping down in a happy rush. “no way! you’re the repairman? thank god! at least i’ll be seeing someone i like everyday.” 

kirishima breaks out into a grin at your joke and pokes at your cheek “ya like me?”

of course you do. he’s your friend, your reason for sanity…maybe your first love.

but you won’t ever admit that. you don’t need anything tying you down to this town— no less, someone like kirishima. 

someone who actually cares for you. 

“don’t push it, red.” you warn him simply, your tone etched with a light friskiness to let him know you’re joking— biting the tip of his finger too. “you can come work on the house whenever you’re ready. it’s not a problem to me since i’ll be a little busy working on something the whole time. just let me know the costs of anything you need, i’ll pay full price for everything, and then some.” 

adjusting you in his grip, eijirou bounces you and smirks sexily when you squeak in surprise at his movements— at his brute strength. “oh? what’cha workin’ on lil’miss writer?” 

“i don’t kiss and tell, eijirou.” you wink.

“really? even if i kiss ya right now? if i offer you a discount on the house?” he keeps his voice low and gravelly as he talks quietly against your earlobe— and you don’t believe for a second the stupid southern hunk doesn’t know what effect he’s having on you. 

so you swat him, right in the chest and pout like a petulant child— trying to hide how easily flustered he makes you. “nuhuh! and it’s full price or no work for you, mister.”

“alright, alright! i got it!” kirishima grins, twirling you both once more. “full price and no spoilers. now c’mon, let’s get’cha home. yer shiverin’ like a city purse dog.”

calming down, you steady your hands on his broad shoulders— feeling the muscle ripple beneath your touch. “thank you for tonight, eiji.” there’s a certain wistfulness that you speak with, satisfaction and happiness breaking through your usual simple tone of voice. eijirou kirishima has always brought out the better sides in you, soothing your inner child. “all of this, it helped me feel better about not being sad for my ma’s death. helped me feel a little more free.” before you can back down or change your mind, you plant a soft smooch against the side of his face— staining his skin with the last of a crimson lipstick mark. 

his gaze that matches the colour painted onto the plushness of your lips flicks down to them, before looking away— embarrassed. “oh… well s’nothin’... you deserve t’have someone t’rely on. everyone does,” kirishima mumbles as he sets you down on two feet, scratching the back of his head bashfully, letting out a nervous chuckle. “we should uh…really get’cha back. ‘fore i do somethin’ reckless.” 

he bundles you up into his truck after that, guiding you into the passenger’s seat and buckling your seatbelt in— even though you both know that you’re more than capable of doing so yourself. you let him, because for once, you feel like you deserve to be cared for and looked after. the drive back is shorter than it was to the creak, mostly because you spend it teasing your old friend, swiping his cowboy hat from the back seat and shoving it atop his messy red mane to make him laugh so hard that his truck swerves along the empty mountain roads.

your mother’s house is clear and vacant when kirishima’s truck pulls into its gravel driveway, just like he’d promised you. both of his moms had texted him on your drive back to let him know that all of your guests had been promptly kicked out, leaving the place near spotless— sparing you the worry of having to clean up in the morning. like the gentleman he is, eijirou offers his hand to you when you hop out of his truck, and the novelty of it all warms you from the inside out, wrapping around your ice cold heart. 

the steps to the front porch creak under the weight of the well-built man, almost dwarfing the thing as kirishima ducks his head to stand under it more comfortably— towering over you at the front door in the process. “i uh—probably should give you this back—” you say breathlessly, watching the air wrapped around the syllables of your words come out in cool puffs. you gesture to his suit jacket, still drowning you and move to shrug off the fabric, remembering how he’d so sweetly given it to you. 

“n-no! keep it,” kirishima blurts out quickly, before you can even finish speaking. he grabs your hands— face hot and tainted with a bright rosey blush. “i’ll be round in a few days t’come pick it up ‘n fix a few things around the house anyways… maybe y’could try and get the lipstick stain out until then?” he’s staring down at you like he’s going to kiss you, like he wants a little more than an innocent lip lock too.

and you’d be a liar to say you weren’t thinking of inviting your childhood friend upstairs for something not so innocent either. 

“i think you like it this way,” comes your response as you stand on your tiptoes, meeting kirishima halfway— giving him the space to back off or to swoop down and take what he wants. 

“yeah,” eijirou breathes while his eyes flutter shut, long lashes brushing against his cheeks and in that moment— he’s close enough to have his nose nudge yours. “i do.” he takes off his hat, a hand resting on his chest as he leans down to press his lips against yours— not moving until he feels you fall into him, reciprocating with a tenderness that has you melting like butter in a pan even in the coolness of the night. your arms reach up to wrap around his thick neck as his finds your waist, tangling in the tiny carmine curls at its base while you pour unspoken words and thankfulness into the sweet smooch. 

“i should go…don’t know what i’ll do if i don’t hold back so…goodnight,” he murmurs your name in pillowy hushed tones as he pulls away— barely wanting to let you go in favour of filling his lungs with oxygen again. “sleep well, kay?” 

“k-kay, g-goodnight!” you sway in place, waving kirishima off with a dreamy smile before unlocking the door, rushing in and slamming it shut behind you. 

there’s a tremble to your fingers as you touch your kiss-swollen lips, a squeal erupting from your throat shortly after. 

you hated this place, everything about it. 

except for maybe one person, who’s maybe made your trip to whiteridge worth it, after all. 

‘my life fucking sucks…’ 

the cursor flashes on the page of your google doc teasingly— taunting you to add to the four existing words meant to be the catalyst of your origin story.  the crème de la crème of your life. the piece de resistance. your god awful fucking autobiography. your brows knit together, meeting like two bristled and angry caterpillars in the centre of your forehead as you stare at the near naked document. the words don’t feel right on the page, nothing like anything you’ve ever written before and you struggle to write more. 

because this doesn’t feel like you.

yes, this is meant to be a book on your life— a dedication to how you got where you are, an ode to everything you’ve ever made but… it’s not you. you’re used to building worlds from nothing but the eightieth song on your favourite playlist and three minutes of the best music you’ve ever heard. you’re familiar with designing a character based on the colour gradients in the sky that afternoon and garnering their personalities from interactions you’d seen in coffee shops or on trains throughout your week. what you were born to write is fiction, cultivating your own escape from your memories— a solace, somewhere else to breathe and exist away from real life and world issues.

writing about yourself feels like a grotesque science project, or learning about punnett squares in your tenth grade biology class. it’s like writing an essay on a concept you can’t quite wrap your brain around no matter how many sources you read into. you’re forced to analyse every little detail you spent smoothing over in your adolescence, synthesising a new skin for yourself to live in, pretending your trauma wasn’t really there. 

pressing the backspace button your laptop’s keyboard, you delete the words and pull back from the screen to crack your knuckles— holding your interlinked fingers high above your head to stretch the lethargic muscles in your back. you’d been sitting at the desk in your mother's master bedroom for hours at this point— waiting for words that never come, anticipating a bigbang of inspiration to hit you until your words hit the page. you wonder if this is how the higher power felt before they created the universe, if they sat in silence, annoyance and confusion. just…waiting.

your fingertips coast over the keyboard again, typing out another sentence to start your story with.

‘my life really fucking sucks…’ 

did adding that extra curse word help? does starting it off like that come off as too ungrateful? you have everything, you muse, a life people only dream of having. money in your account, the number never falling too low— healthcare, basically free of charge, a secure job with rich foods to fill your stomach and all the fans where you could only ever wish to meet them all in person. that’s how your readers would perceive you, at least.

in reality, you’re bitter and lonely— you have no family, you’re too scarred from your past to make new friends and all you really have is yourself. and your publicist, mina, but she’d been pissing you off with pestering you about this book. 

maybe you could be vulnerable here, use the solitude of your adulthood as material for your book. your mind starts to drift with fresh new ideas printed into some lobe of your brain until you land on a certain someone from the other night. a warm glow in your current state of gloom. kirishima…he could still be your friend. after all, you’d made a connection when you’d reunited at your mother’s funeral and his number was right there in your phone. for repairs, of course, but it was still there…

no. you shake your head, trying to realign your focus with the task and craft at hand— you could go back to your roots and do an internet search for sentence starters, a ‘how to a start book for dummies’ might help you out, too. however, the goddess of higher power seems to be messing with you, for when you click on your internet browser, you’re met with the foul message that the wifi in your mom’s house has completely gone out. 

you’re so fucking lucky google docs is able to work offline— otherwise you’re sure you would have lost what little progress you’d made on the start of your book. that surely would have ruined your morning. it does appear, in spite of it all, that having no wifi gives you an excuse to take a break from your work and from mina’s nagging to call a certain hunky and red-haired repairman for assistance. 

at least fate is on your side— sort of… she has a funny way of toying with you. for now, you take it as a positive sign and shake off your frustration, reaching for your phone to make the call.

“kirishima repair service, where your repairs make us riot!” 

eijirou picks up your call before you can even hit the first dial tone— he’d been eager, drinking up your words like a cool glass of water on a hot summer’s day as you complained to him about the wifi, the creaky floorboards in the bathroom that freaked you out last night and the mysterious drip in the hallway connecting the living room to the kitchen. you’d been lodged up in the house since the funeral, no point in spending money on a hotel when you’d need to oversee the work on your mother’s old place anyways— sorting through her belongs for sale or storage while you worked on your book.

and, you hadn’t thought much of it at the time, one casual comment about the god-forsaken house slipping out after another and the redhead hadn’t even protested. ‘i’ll be right over,’ he said, so proud you could hear the smile in his voice from over the crackles of the line. ‘i was plannin’ to start today anyway. wanted to see your face too…’ 

“hmm, that’s cute.” 

giggling and hiding your smile, you hold open the door wide enough for eijirou to slip past you— trying not to dwell on his size as he ducks his head to enter your childhood home, ridding yourself of any inappropriate thought. like how he nearly had you pinned against the door the other night, with the vague confirmation that he was thinking about fucking you right then and there. 

“will you be needing anything, ei? i, uh, found some tools and the instructions for the router back in the kitchen…” you mumble, planning an escape route from the bulking man and your thirsty thoughts as he practically dwarfs everything in the house. 

kirishima looks at you once, his inquisitive and bright eyes having swept over the interior— as if he was trying to match the look of the house to his memory. it’d been a while since either of you had been here together. “oh! nah. got everythin’ i need right here, darlin’,” he says, gaze still set on your face and neither of you making a move. right…where? did he mean you? were you everything he needed? after a beat of awkward silence he coughs, probably having realised his words and lifts his toolbox sheepishly— cheeks a shade darker than his hair. “i-i mean in here, the toolbox.” 

“right…um should i point you to the—?” 

“the wifi router? please.”

“don’t sound so desperate to get away from me eiji, it’ll make me feel bad.” 

“‘m not!” he defends quickly, letting you guide him to the living room and to a high rustic bookshelf where the point of internet connection sits. the device is too high up for you to reach, but kirishima swipes it down with ease— avoiding eye contact with you as he inspects the red lights indicating a bad signal. “s’just…yer lookin’ at me in ways that’ll make me forget that ‘m here to work. and i need to focus, sweetheart.” 

oh.

so he had been thinking about the other night too. 

grinning slyly, you cross your arms over your chest— avoiding the heat bubbling under your skin when your repair man’s gaze drops down to follow your movement. “i’ll leave you to work then, eijirou. wouldn’t want to distract you from your hard work,” you coo, cocking your head to the side in satisfaction when his whole body stutters— the wifi router slipping from his grip before you catch it and pass it to him, getting a little too close. “call me if you need me, i’ll be across the hall, working on my book.” 

“i-i will. if i need you. f-for the wifi! i’ll probably need’ya to check if the connection works once i reset everythin’—“ he stumbles over his words, not quite saying what he means, not quite knowing what he means, if you’re even talking about the repairs anymore. “yanno what? i’ll just start workin’ now.” 

he’s so cute, so easily riled up just like you remember from back in the day. with one last pinch to his bulging bicep, you skip back to the kitchen to try and get started on your dreadful own task at hand. 

“good luck, cowboy.” 

about an hour and a half later, eijirou politely ( disrespectfully ) disrupts your bubble of failed creativity by clearing his throat, an apologetic expression plastered across his face before he hesitantly steps into the kitchen. you glance up from your laptop and from where you sit at the rustic, hand carved wooden dining table in the centre of the room— blinking twice to stop your eyes from bulging out of their place in your skull when they finally land on kirishima. 

“any luck?” you whisper, breathing deep through your nose as he approaches the table in short strides— the scent of pine and his own musk filling the air. 

“not an ounce,” kirishima huffs, clearly annoyed and you can tell by the adorable pout spread across the shine on his lips. “damn router won’t connect for more than fifteen minutes! can’t freakin’ figure the thing out!"

the red head’s shoulders slouch as he takes a seat at the table with you, squeezing himself into one of the chairs he used to have to climb into when he was little. letting out a fond laugh, you put your hand on top of his and give it a comforting squeeze— not wanting eijirou to be too annoyed with himself. “if it helps i’ve not made much progress either,” you gesture to the chicken scratch notes you’ve resorted to taking on the various sheets of paper, scattered across the table. “i can’t seem to figure out how to start this book. it’s killing me.” 

this time it’s eijirou who gives your hand a soft squeeze, flipping his palm to lace your fingers together— you try not to dwell on how thick and rough they are. “‘m sure you’ll get it,” he whispers to you, a dopey look on his face— pride, for you, dancing in his ruby gem eyes. “yer amazing at what you do…” 

“thanks eiji,” you chirp at his praise, bristling with happiness. “you always know what to say, huh?” 

“of course, i’ll never stop tellin’ you how proud i am of you fer gettin’ outta this place. makin’ a name for yourself.” he goes on, rambling earnestly with excited dips and dives sprinkled throughout his voice. “how about this? i needa go into town to get you a new router, so after that, we can grab some grub at that old diner ‘n maybe take our frustrations out on that? my treat.” 

your stomach rumbles at the thought— hunger sneaking up on you like a big cat on its prey.

“y-yeah, that sounds great!” 

“one black coffee for the ‘lil lady, and one super sweet hot chocolate supreme with extra whipped cream ‘n marshmallows for you, baby.” 

you try to ignore the trill of displeasure that runs through you as the waitress places your drinks on the table— leaning in real close to eijirou as she passes him his hot cocoa. he’s too distracted to notice her blatant flirting, like a child on christmas as soon as he’s got his sickly sweet beverage in front of him. but you do. she was cute, definitely from around here and pretty as a picture too— she’d make a cute little wife, and if he wanted, she could give eijirou as many kids as he damn well pleased. 

you sit across from him as you stir a teaspoon of sugar or two into your coffee—bitter, tired but still mysteriously sexy so at least you had that going for you and eijirou kirishima would be a fool to pass you up for some hillbilly bit—

“black coffee? is that seriously all ya want to drink?” he cuts off your trail of thought, staring straight past the waitress and right at you— as if you’re the only person in the room. 

smiling to yourself when the waitress scurries away, you circle the spoon around your mug— watching the white sugar crystals dissolve into the dark, piping hot  liquid. “as black as my soul,” you joke, eyes darting up just in time to watch kirishima snort his whipped cream. “what’s so funny, ‘shima?”

“your humour was never this…dark when we’re kids.” he chuckles in response, nose scrunched and eyes bright. 

you take a sip, hiding behind the rim of your cup. “being a writer does that to you.” as does being abandoned by your mom, losing your brother.

kirishima quickly senses the dip in mood and overs you a tender smile, resting his hand atop yours just like in the kitchen back home and rubbing his thumb over the backs of your knuckles. “so…this book yer workin’ on?” he pokes the bear, running back to sip on his cocoa when you playfully scowl at him.

“i said no spoilers, eiji!” 

“c’mon, just one? i am treating you to breakfast — at least tell me what it’s about.”

you can’t resist when he begs like that, like a big puppy awaiting his treats— so you reply, hesitant words clinging to the steam rising from your coffee. “it’s…” you start. “it’s about my life?”

“and you’re struggling to write that?” kirishima quips incredulously, whipped cream tainting the cupid’s bow of his full lips.

body flushing with embarrassment, your lips turn into a frown. “h-hey! it’s a lot harder than it looks!”

pulling his hand from yours to wave the pair of them about, eijirou is quick to apologise— nearly knocking over your drinks in the process. “n-no! i just mean—“ the words die on his sugar-coated lips as he flounders for the right thing to say, to articulate himself properly. “i-i mean yeah, what would i know?” he speaks quieter now, looking down at his lap while his jubilant actions calm, and you cock your head to the side— curious to pick his brain for an explanation as you prompt him with a tiny ‘go on…’ “like, i dunno, i dropped outta school but…you’re interestin’, ya always have been! a-at least to me…so i figured… you’d have a whole lot t’talk about.”

you’re the one who turns bashful after that, picking at the sleeves of the random sweater you’d thrown on, discovering it at the bottom of your suitcase. your gaze wonders to the wet and frosted windows of the diner noticing the chipped paint on its panes and the walls now coated in an inviting shade of yellow— different from the colours you remember from coming here as a child on saturday mornings. there was never any consideration for how other people perceived you when it came to yourself.

you had to learn fast and hard that society didn’t take kindly to children who didn’t meet the norms, whose families were a little twisted with tragedy like yours. almost everyone you knew growing up had turned on you as soon as your brother lost his life, same as when your mother started to lose herself, too. 

it never occurred to you— that someone outside of the damaging thoughts plaguing your mind would care for your story, would care about you and the little details that make up your DNA. perhaps your readers would take interest in how you and izuku would play hopscotch on the way to school, how you preferred wearing your tie loose on your neck or not at all because you didn’t like to feel too constricted, how you liked your eggs fried until their edges were a little black in your bentos or how you would trade them with the kids in the playground before it all came crashing down. 

before the accident.

and maybe, your readers would take comfort in the girl the accident forced you to become. the one who kept her head down, got the grades she needed and fucked right out of town. the one who got lost in the city and published story after story in smaller anthologies until she got her big break— until someone noticed the passion she’d penned onto paper. until someone saw her for more than just her mother, and her brother and her harrowing past. 

until someone finally saw you. 

but someone had been seeing you all this time, rooting for you from here. from home. and he was sitting right in front of you. 

“i didn’t think—” you pause, looking back at the rugged man before you. “i never knew you saw me…t-that way! that way. i never knew you saw me that way.” 

kirishima hums content, an expression of wistfulness taking residence on his face. 

“i don’t think you ever really noticed how i saw you.”

you open your mouth to speak— dying to know what eijirou means, but the waitress from earlier returns with the steaming hot plates of breakfast you both had ordered with the red haired repairman quick to steal a bite from yours. he forks his way through half of the omelette on your plate in favour of scraping it onto his own, giving you a wolfish grin as he downs a bite in mere seconds. 

the whole ordeal makes you forget what you were planning to say. “hey! i was gonna eat that!”

“oh yeah? but’cha never finished your plate back when we were kids.” he taunts, daring to swipe more food from you. 

“that’s ‘cause you always ate what was on it before i got the chance!” you squeak back through your laughter, blocking his fork with your own.

after breakfast at the diner, the rest of your day is spent pressed right up to eijirou’s side as he guides you around whiteridge’s town centre. he’d fought you over the bill, let you stand on your tiptoes to ruffle his mane when you paid a tip worth greater than the bill as he pouted on the way out too. his fingers graze yours along the way, not too far out of reach but enough to remind you that he’s there— walking with you through the memories that you relive.

he points out the tuck shops you would sneak into after class. he forces you to press your nose against the glass with him watching the bakery put out fresh loaves of milk bread and tucks his hat over your ears when the breeze starts to pick up, sending ice chills down your spine. 

kirishima is unbelievably warm and it’s intoxicating, his joyous spirit floods through your dark memories of whiteridge with hues of soft pinks— removing the taint of loneliness from your childhood. he’ll kiss your knuckles after every spot you visit— good and bad, reminding you that he’s there with every step you take through the town that left you to rot when you were too young to defend yourself. 

kirishima is there, kirishima will always be there and he’ll always choose you. and you remind yourself not to take his comforting presence in your life for granted from now on. 

you both fly back almost ten years when you stumble upon the playground you used to frequent as little ones. like children, you race to the rusted and red painted swing set— slipping on the ice, with your cheeks bitten raw by the cold as it shows in each puffed out breath you take. it makes you feel alive, makes you feel the blood pumping hotly through your veins again.

there are mothers with their infants that look down on you both, but neither of you can think to care, too wrapped up in the happy bubble of nostalgia that shelters you both from the cruel world. of course, eijirou beats you to it, claiming the last remaining swing and sitting on it with all his weight— nearly pulling the damn thing from its old and worn out chains.

“push me, darlin’,” eijirou demands jocosely, his big hands gripping the chains— his crimson eyes rioting and roaring with a teasing glint as he looks up at you. flirts with you. “or yer chicken.” 

rolling your eyes, you stand in front of him. “you think i can’t, red?” placing your hands over his on the chain and muster all your strength to start swinging him back and forth, the heels of your boots crunching against the frosted tarmac beneath them. “you’ve gotten bolder while i’ve been away! what’s gotten into you?” you goad him, picking up momentum while you both sway with the swing. “did you look up flirting tips after that girl… who was it? nejire from two grades above found out you had a crush on her in middle school—“ 

“you still don’t get it,” he says. the swinging comes to a dramatic halt, kirishima forcefully digging his boots into the rubber flooring below to stop you both— his grip on the chains dropping to cling to your waist, dragging you to stand between his wide spread legs. “do you?” 

“e-eijirou—?” 

your words die with the gust of wind that blows over you both and you can’t tell if you’re shivering because of how cool it is or because of kirishima’s warmth as it spreads through you like a flame taking over kindling— his lips ghosting over yours, pressing a feather light kiss to them as if to test the waters. when you tilt your head to meet him at a better angle, the redhead knows it’s safe to continue— deepening his actions, gliding his tongue against the seam of your lips as though to ask permission for more before you let him.

the kiss is a little rougher than you’ve felt with him before, contradicting with his gentlemanly nature— not that you mind, feeling all the emotions he pours into it. 

“meant what i said, yanno,” kirishima breathes into your mouth after you pull apart, eyes half lidded and his hold on you still tight— as if he doesn’t want you to slip away. “ya never noticed the way i looked at you. how much i liked ya. even now, there’s been no one else since you left.”

“eiji…” you gasp, wordless for the moment but he presses on, brushing a thumb over your cheek. 

warm, unlike the weather.

“i’m not asking for all of you now…or for you to magically have feelings for me. i can wait, i’ve had to for this long anyways.” he adds with a smile, one so soft compared to how he just kissed you— sending you reeling and making your heart a rapid beating mess. “no pressure or anything, we can make this whatever you want it to be.” 

“a-and what if…what if i want you by my side?” 

“then i’ll be here.” 

“for how long?” 

“as long as you’ll have me.” 

you fist kirishima’s jacket under your grip and steady yourself— blinking back tears of appreciation before they fall, letting kirishima thumb them away when they do. “that’ll be a while red, i hope you know that.” you huff, holding onto him so that he doesn’t let you go.

kirishima only wraps the entirety of his arm around your waist— keeping you close as he says. “i know, i’ll make that time worth your while,” he presses a small smooch to your midriff, looking up at you with those same rioting and lovesick red eyes and speaking again. “let’s get’cha back home ‘n set that wifi up, yeah? i think me kissin’ you in front of all those mommas has them a little spooked ‘n to be honest, ‘m barely holdin’ myself back here.” 

“you’re insatiable, red.” you swat at his chest, stepping back so he can tower over you once again. 

“and who’s to blame for that?” kirishima pinches your side back all while taking your hand to lead you out of the park and back to the bustling square of whiteridge.

‘me.’ you think giddily and your heart settles in its place, soothed by eijirou’s heavy hand in yours.

for once you’re happy to take the blame for this one.

there’s a car you don’t recognise in your driveway when you get back— blocking kirishima’s truck from parking up next to your own vehicle. 

“do y’know whose car that is? were you expecting guests?”

raising a brow, you peer up at kirishima who sits confused behind the wheel. “you’re the only person i like in this town and all of my family is dead. of course i’m not expecting guests.” you deadpan, but raise your hands in defence when the repairman glares down at you. “i kid! i kid!” 

“not funny, darlin’,” he grunts and sets the car into park, making sure she’s steady before opening the door on the driver’s side. “stay here, ‘m gonna check it out. robberies aren’t that common here but i don’t wanna risk it.” risk you.

with your face scrunching up, your actions follow the same path as your red haired companion and you unbuckle your seatbelt swiftly to jump out of the truck. “you’re not leaving me here! what if mineta’s lurking around, waiting to get me alone!” you huff, boots crunching on the ice below as you follow kirishima’s tacks up towards your mother’s house and current place of residence. 

“neither of those jokes were funny, stop makin’ fun of yer trauma, kay?” he scolds you gently, casting his gaze over his shoulder to check on you. only when eijirou‘s back is turned again, do you mimic and mock him a little before slipping your hand into his— noticing he was holding it out for you from behind. you hear the porch creek up above, breath hitching as kirishima yells at the intruder. “hey! don’cha know that this is private property— you can’t be here!” 

“calm yer tits shitty hair, ‘m just here to get my stuff. i ain’t botherin’ no one.” a rough voice responds, sending a wave of familiarity through you. “b’sides, i got. a fuckin’. key.” the last sentence is punctuated with pockets of a condescending tone— causing light bulb memories to flash through your mind and back to the night at the bar.

“bakugou?”

stepping out from behind the mountain that is eijirou kirishima, you reveal yourself to another set of red eyes— watching as recognition flood’s the blonde’s features and smooths over the crease between his knitted brows. “well, well, well. who do we fuckin’ have here…” bakugou rasps, his signature smirk tugging the corners of his lips upwards as he gives you the once over. “how ya doin’, sweetheart? mind gettin’ this big red oaf off my back?” 

“oaf? sweetheart, do you two know each other?” kirishima grunts defensively, squaring himself in front of you as if to protect you from katsuki’s leering gaze.

“know each other?” bakugou interjects before you can, smirk only widening. “we slept together, shitty hair. couple days ago, weren’t it, baby? she took me real fuckin’ good—“ 

“now hold on a second!” 

“are we lyin’ now, bakugou? doesn’t the town hate you enough for that already?” 

“e-eiji! that’s not nice—“ 

“you don’t know shit, fuckface.” 

“oh, i know all about whiteridge’s shitty little recluse—“ 

growing more irritated and embarrassed by the boys’ back and forth arguing— you reach into bakugou’s car through the window ( as it’s still running and open ) and press down on the horn until it shocks them both out of their bickering. “that’s enough!” you growl, eyes shooting between them angrily as you take turns pointing fingers at them. “kirishima, backdown. you’re not my guard dog…and bakugou! what the fuck are you doing here? is your name really even bakugou?” 

both the blonde and the redhead settle for a second. “it is, i am katsuki bakugou.” bakugou shifts on your front porch and lifts a box up high for you to see, once that you didn’t notice before. “used to live here, helped ya ma out since she looked after me durin’ a rough time…after ya skipped town ‘n stuff.” he explains simply, wincing when you let out a quiet gasp that’s slightly visible in the cold air. “just came t’get the last of my shit. couldn’t bring myself to tell ya before…and it wasn’t appropriate at the funeral. ‘m sorry for that.” 

“you…knew my mom?” you frown, clutching onto kirishima who stays as still as stone, watching the exchange. 

“yeah…she wasn’t as crazy as ya made out to be at the bar, yanno.” the blonde smiles sad, yet wistfully, passing by both you and eijirou to get to his car.

kirishima barks from beside you, tracking bakugou’s movements like he’s defending his territory. “don’t you think it’s rude to speak ill of the dead?”

“don’t you know that i ain’t fuckin’ talkin’ to you?”

“boys,” you warn again before turning to katsuki to give him your name. your real one, with the midoriya last name and all, and it brings you comfort when he doesn’t immediately point it out or apologise for your loss like everyone else. “thanks for stopping by bakugou, and thank you for that night, i guess?” 

he nods, slipping into his vehicle with the box now in the passenger’s seat— the rest stashed away safely in his trunk. “anytime, princess,” he coos, revving up his engine to drive away and around eijirou’s truck— only reminding you even more of the explicit night that you both shared before your mother’s funeral.

you watch him go with the redhead as your company, jumping out of your skin when he speaks to you, roughly. “y’should head up to the house. i’ll get the new wifi router from the truck ‘n set up for you.” 

“do you need any help again?” 

“no need. i got this.” 

just like he said, eijirou handles everything on his own— fixing your wifi and setting it up with speed. except, he’s icy the whole time, rejecting your advances, meaner and slightly ruder than before as he works until he doesn’t anymore. gone is the soft, warm and comforting heat of eijirou kirishima from earlier, where he kissed you and practically begged you for a chance. you can only assume it has something to do with your hook up and encounter with bakugou… but that was before and it’s not like your sex life was any of his business. 

kirishima rushes off before tending to any other repairs to the house— grumbling something about coming back in a few days time as he slams the door shut behind him, leaving you to fester in silence once more. men are fuckin’ weird, you decide.

with no inspiration left in the tank and you feeling a little butt-hurt from the boys— you take solace in exploring your old house and the memories that dance within it’s creaking walls. pictures line the pathway up the staircase to your childhood or teenage bedroom, and you can’t help but stop to look at framed and dusty photographs of you and your brother throughout your early years. all toothless and gappy smiles.

a particular one catches your attention— a snap of both you and izuku decked out in swimmer’s gear, juice stains from red popsicles smeared along your chubby cheeks and orange against izuku’s freckled ones. you remember it being taken on a summer’s day before you ventured into the woods to swim about in the streams so you could cool off. 

lifting the frame from the wall, you blow off the dirt, thumbing your older brother’s youthful face— missing him, hurting for him and pressing the trinket close to your chest as if to hold him for one last time. you squeeze a little too tight, jumping back as paper slips from behind the frame and onto the wooden steps with a light thud. 

“what the—?” you muse to yourself, hanging the portrait back on its nail before carefully scooping up the sheets of paper.

the notes, with your mother’s writing on them. 

a photo of deku, katsuki and eijirou all together. 

‘they know something.’ one reads. ‘the boys, izuku’s friends.’ says another. 

a chill runs down your spine, your body not liking the ominous wording or the idea that you’re reading a dead woman’s thoughts. a million questions race through your mind all at once while you dart up the stairs and to your room, snapping pictures of the notes just in case— sending them to your laptop. just in case.

they were hidden for a reason, tucked behind one of your happiest memories in hopes that you’d…find them? perhaps? you can’t figure out for the life of you what they mean, why your mother wrote them or her motive to have tucked them away…but what you do know, is that something doesn’t feel right about them. that something tells you that she might have been right about izuku��s death being somewhat suspicious.

you can’t help but dwell on the thought, even up until you’re tucked into bed, an idea for the startling line of your book coming to you once you finally manage to drift off. 

‘my life, is a complete and utter fucking mystery. and you’re going to help me solve it…’

apparently, being simultaneously ghosted and pissed off makes you write a whole lot faster.

it’s been a few days since the stand-off outside your house between the two men you’ve somehow gotten yourself involved with— resulting in you getting ghosted by both of them. bakugou, mostly because you don’t have his number. and kirishima? well he’s just been a prick. since beginning his work on the house he’s probably said all but twenty words to you— clearly still riled up by the fact that you’ve slept with someone else.

fuelled by your annoyance at the two, you’d managed to make a breakthrough on your book and kept yourself hauled up in your mom’s old room, writing away while staying to oversee repairs on the house for a little while longer. it’d been at least two weeks since everything went down.

silence and the sound of your fingertips married to your keyboard have been your only friends since eijirou started to ignore you— not that you mind, they were great company growing up too. with more than three pages filled with the intricate details of your early life, your birth, your first crawl and then your first walk, you decide to take a break from your work before delving deeper and head for a piping hot shower.

the water soothes your tense muscles, washes away the fear and anxiety you’ve felt since discovering your mother’s notes and trying to figure out what they mean. lathering up, you scrub at your skin until you feel clean of any discomfort and mystery clinging to it before the water suddenly runs cold— acting as a shockwave that runs through your system.

it forces you to begrudgingly send a text to eijirou, asking him to fix the shower while you work and he sends a quick, disinterested reply of ‘sure.’ as you towel yourself dry for his arrival. he’d wanted to do some repairs to the house anyway.

you’re lucky that the house is warm, waltzing around in nothing but an oversized shirt and fuzzy winter socks by the time kirishima pulls up in your driveway— a hot mug of coffee and milk between your fingertips when you open up for him. “coffee?” you ask him politely as if the redhead is a stranger, closing the door behind him as he kicks the ice from his boots and sets his toolbox down. 

“is it black?” 

“no.” 

“then yeah, i’ll have one.” 

he’s still being cold, a bit of an ass— but perhaps you can’t really blame him. literal minutes before bakugou had shown up on your doorstep, he’d been asking for a part of you. telling you that he’d wait for you and you’d agreed after many years of being apart. kirishima had a right to be mad, but you were, too— nobody ghosted you. in the kitchen, you brew and sweeten up his coffee, setting it on the counter above his head as he works on the water source in the cupboard beneath the kitchen sink, tools splayed out beside him. 

now, as you write at the dining table, you’re accompanied by an awkward silence, clanking tools and your fingers on the keys. every now and again, red eyes stray over to your bare thighs squeezed together ( from sneaking peeks at the way the burly redhead’s arms bulge with every twist of the water pipe with his wrench or whatever the hell it is ). tension layers itself thickly in the air, and you know eijirou’s been holding himself back when it comes to you, so you take this opportunity to try and get him to talk to you. to get the answers you need about the notes you found the other night.

“hey kirishima?” you call out to him as he stands up to finish off his hot drink, closing your laptop. 

“hmm?”

“uh…” you pause, gnawing nervously on your lower lip. if you ask him now, there’s no telling how kirishima will respond, you’re not on speaking terms and as far as he knows, he doesn’t owe you anything. just like you don’t owe him an explanation on bakugou— who he doesn’t seem to like very much. “were you…you and bakugou, friends?” 

kirishima stiffens— gaze shooting up from your thighs to your face, as if to read it. “why you askin’, dollface?”

“my mom,” you start, fisting the hem of your shirt between your fingers and fiddling with a loose thread. “i found some photos of hers, of the two of you with izuku…some notes too. it just got me thinking…maybe she was right about the accident and something happened, and i just want to know if you truly know anything about what happened to him.” 

the red-haired repairman shakes his head slow at first, picking up in velocity as if he’s denying any thought that comes to mind— turning away from you to get back to fixing your water. “i’ll tell you what i told y’mom ‘n the police at the time. i don’t know anythin’ much about what happened to midoriya,” he huffs simply, grunting with exertion. “and look, midoriya, you and i were good childhood friends and … i’ve no idea why bakugou was hanging around us or in the photo from back then. so, maybe…just drop it?” 

your face scrunches up sourly at his words, anger flashing through you. “drop it?” you snap— tone so harsh that both you and kirishima jump out of your skin. “eijirou, this is my family…i never understood what my mother meant as a kid. i didn’t get her pain or why she suddenly turned on me, but i feel like this is a sign, her way of reaching out to me after she—“ 

“after she what? died? you didn’t even care up until now! and now ya wanna go diggin’ through skeletons in the closet because of some…some note? blaming me?”

“that's not fair, eijirou! and that’s not what i’m saying!” 

he dares to bite— baring his fangs at you like you do with him. “oh? so what are you sayin’?”

“that maybe there’s some truth to what my mom believed. that something really did happen to my brother…to izuku. to your friend.”  you fight back, standing from your seat so fast that it flies back and hits the floor with a loud clang. “why else would she have hidden the clues, the pictures in the house?”

“why are you even lookin’ into this shit now?” 

silence. 

kirishima folds his arms over his chest, breathing heavy from all the yelling before he prompts you again. “why are you doin’ all this?” he asks, nursing your name bitterly. 

“for my book.” you state, quieter and shamefully. 

watching eijirou’s face morph from an expression of confusion to one of hurt, and shock, and betrayal makes you feel sick to your stomach— knowing that you caused it. “yer fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” he slurs angrily, brows furrowed and meeting in the centre of his forehead. “seriously? your brother died. and you’re diggin’ into his past, his death for some fuckin’ clout?” 

“eijirou it’s not like that—“ 

“don’t you ‘eijirou’ me!” this time, the redhead roars so loud it makes you cower back— surprised that he would ever direct such a tone towards you. “yer not the only person who lost a brother. yer not the only person who fuckin’ grieved. stop sticking your nose in places they shouldn’t be and let izuku rest! do yourself a favour and quit while you’re ahead b’fore you end up goin’ crazy just like your ma—“ 

the world around you shatters like glass as eijirou hits you where he knows it’ll hurt the most. it’s like he knew exactly what cells and nerves of yours to target in order to cause you the most pain. before you go crazy, like your mother. the one thing you couldn’t possibly stand in this world, would be to end up exactly like her. to have driven away everyone, to be perceived as a freak who just couldn’t let her loved one rest in peace. you didn’t want that for izuku, and hell, eijirou was right. you didn’t want that for her either, in a way. 

still, it doesn’t make his words ache any less— tears stinging at your eyes like acid or poison before you can even stop them, letting them fill the silence echoing between you both. 

“fuck,” kirishima abandons his tools faster than the speed of light, brushing a hand through his red mane before striding over to you— lifting you to sit on the kitchen label and pulling you into his plush chest since you’re too numb to resist him. “‘m sorry, i— i shouldn’ta said that to ya.” his forehead presses against yours, his large hands parting your thighs to stand between them as he rubs circles into the swell of them— doing anything he can to bring you back down to him, to soothe your quiet sobbing. “‘m so fuckin’ sorry darlin’, dunno what came over me. what i was thinkin’. that was an asshole move from me.” 

he goes on, mumbling apologies over and over again— but you’re numb to them all, eyes glazed over and mind blank…because maybe it’s true. maybe eijirou is right and you really should just leave it all alone. 

you let him kiss you softly, a few times, gentle pecks against your lips until they’re brushed with unspoken forgiveness. because it feels nice to have him close again, to not be ignored by the only person in this shitty world who might, still actually give a fuck about you. 

“‘m so sorry,” kirishima says when you finally make an effort to kiss him back, angling your head just right for him to lick at your lips— tasting the coffee on them. 

you shake your head, letting your fingers tangle in his luscious mane— gripping him as he calms your frenzied mind. clears it of any thought. “it’s okay, kirishima, it’s okay.” you offer in comfort, even though he should be the one comforting you.

you let kirishima stay the night after he fixes up the water and a few other things— with it being too dark and the colder weather starting to pick up a little bit more now that the temperatures have dropped below zero. he orders takeout, on him, from a quaint little business owned by someone else you went to school with— someone who went by the name sato.

it almost freaks you out how tenderly he treats you after damn near tearing your head off earlier— spoon feeding you, keeping you tucked into his toned and blisteringly hot side while you watch silly cartoons to fill the space as you finish off your writing for the day. neither of you speak about the argument, nor dare to bring it up in fear of setting one another off again but you can’t seem to shake the suspicion feeling— debating whether or not kirishima has something to hide.

you have a moment to breathe when he asks to wash up before bed, and you agree, offering to make you both a warm cocoa so you can settle down for the night. though, when you return, you don’t expect to see eijirou hunched over your open laptop at your desk— seemingly clicking through files even though he’s fresh out of the shower, red hair dripping about the place and broad, bare and golden shoulders decorated with crystalline droplets of water, a pair of cotton sweatpants hanging low around his waist. 

“what are you doing?” you ask hoarsely, using your voice properly for what feels like the first time in hours. 

spinning around in his seat, eijirou looks at you with an expression that reads ‘a deer caught in headlights’, quickly clicking out of whatever he was obviously snooping in. “oh um— i was lookin’ f’some music, somethin’ romantic so i could set the mood for tonight,” he turns back to your laptop and pulls up the draft for the intro to your book, reading over it proudly as you walk up behind him and set the mugs of cocoa to the side. “then i came across this, and i know you said no spoilers but… s’really good. i like it, pays homage to izuku.” 

kirishima lies smoothly, to the point where you almost believe what he’s saying— but a quick glance at your files from over his shoulder tells him he’d been looking through the notes and photos your mother had hidden, the ones you’d sent to yourself. “please don’t go through my stuff, eiji. it’s private,” you murmur, realising that only one of the files is missing, and you shoo eijirou out of his seat at the desk to recover it and password lock the data.

“s-sorry,” he seems apologetic, holding his hands up as a sign of retreat as you stand to face him once again. “i didn’t know you were that serious ‘bout that stuff, wouldn’t have looked if i had known.” you almost hate how timbre and hypnotic kirishima’s voice is— feeling as though you can’t be mad at or irritated with him for long; like he knows just what to say to get your mind to do a clean sweep and forget any wrongs he might have done. it’s hard to put your walls up around him, shut him out when he’s so inviting— cautiously taking you into his arms, his lips finding your neck to place calculated smooches along the path of it. 

feather light, barely there as if the kisses never existed in the first place. 

“i-i told you,” you reply, holding your breath— depriving your brain of the oxygen it needs to be able to think properly. “no spoilers, eijirou.” 

his sharpened teeth come into play next, just barely puncturing your skin with little marks and bites between ever growing sloppy kisses, his spit leaving a warm shine against your throat. “alright, alright, no more spoilers,” he whines against your neck, heated breath coasting along your skin until it rises with goosebumps. “just…didn’t think that y’cared about yer past that much.”

writhing in his hold and letting eijirou push you back to lean against the desk, you whine back— sounding needier than he did. “i don’t… i just got curious.” you let your counter argument slip away from you as kirishima sucks a mark just under the shell of your ear, humming at your speeding pulse beneath his lips. 

he uses a knee to nudge your legs apart, both of you growing more desperate— hungrier, the red haired repairman lifting you to sit on the edge of the table by the waist. “thought we weren’t supposed to talk about it, though,” he keeps going, teasing you and taunting you— picking you apart under his touch as eijirou’s fingertips ghost up your shirt to massage the swell of your thighs. 

your breath hitches, lips parting in a quiet moan at every squeeze of your flesh— your own fingers curling in a sea of ruby locks. “eijirou…please,” you plead with him— wanting to hear anything but talk of your book, wanting to hear your name coat the inside of his mouth. you buck your hips up into nothing, using your grip on his hair to tug kirishima close enough for some friction, grinding your clothed cunt against his girth showing through his sweatpants. 

“please, what, darlin’?” his words hang between a set of shark sharp teeth— ones that leave bruising marks against your skin while his hips follow your movements, pushing back and forth against your panties for some relief too. “what? y’want me to fuck you, is that it? that why you’re grinding this cute cunt against my—fuck— cock?” kirishima soothes what he bites, pink tongue peeking out between pearly whites to gloss over the inflamed areas he’s left on you, knowing that they’ll be more visible come sunrise. “say it, darlin— say you want me.” 

“i need you,” you wheeze, at a loss for words with kirishima descending from your neck, placing open mouthed kisses along your collarbones, tugging the collar of your shirt down to give the same treatment to your chest. before he can go any further, one of your hands leaves his hair to tilt his chiselled chin up to face you, a neediness taking over your tone and desire spreading through your bloodstream. “come up here, kiss me.” 

eijirou’s mouth is quick to melt against yours just as it has done many times before, his wet tongue grazing your bottom lip before forcing its way into your mouth— claiming you as his. his cheeks flame at his own boldness, while you surge forward and chase the dopamine high he gives to you every time your lips lock. your teeth sink into his bottom lip, daring the man to pull away as you drag the flesh away from him but kirishima is just as hungry for you as you are for him, hands sliding up your shirt and over your rib cage, thumbing the bare skin until you gasp— letting your tongues come together sloppily, lips slotting against one another in mismatched ways.

kirishima doesn’t stop the route of his hands under your shirt, letting them settle on the clasp of your bra before he pulls way— both of you panting for breath. 

“w-what?” you grumble, nosing his face, missing his kisses already. “is something the matter?” you’re impatient, you don’t like waiting for something you feel you deserve. kirishima had been pining after you for years, there’s no doubt in your mind that he’s imagined having you like this for several of them so you don’t understand why he pauses, ghosting his fingertips under the curve of your breast where it meets your rib cage— marvelling as you arch into him subtly.

the repairman shakes his head, a slow smile tugging on the corner of his lips, as if he knows how much he affects you— knows that your body tingles with anticipation, craving something more than a few kisses and playful touches. “yer just so pretty, darlin’, wanna take my time with you,” he drawls, finally undoing your bra and letting the nylon material fall away from your breasts and revealing them to his hungry hooded eyes. “that okay?” rough padded thumbs press into your budded nipples from under your shirt, the cotton material only serving to make them more sensitive— you can’t even think straight to answer eijirou, writhing and shaking your head from a few simple touches. “c’mon gorgeous, don’t be like that. you wanna feel good, right? lemme take care of that.” 

his voice oozes with condensation accompanied by gentle tones of adoration watching you react to him in such a way— it’s like your body knows to love him, to trust him even if your mind doesn’t and you whine out for him. “wanna feel good eijirou, i’ll do anything just—please,” 

“awh, s’fuckin’ cute,” he laughs, leaning back down to kiss you hungrily, making his goal to swallow you whole and fill you with every ounce of lust he has for you. kirishima’s mountainous frame looms over you, chest to chest as his teeth sink into your lower lip— pulling back while you desperately attempt to lick up into his mouth and suck in his devious tongue. “god, you’re so fuckin’ cute, baby, taste so good, so sweet.” spit slings between your eager mouths, drool running down your chins the messier you both become and as he gropes and pinches and tweaks at your sensitive chest, your own hands make the trek down his muscled back— the dull edge of your nails carving a red streaked patch down his flesh as well. 

your tongues dance messily with one another, a little out of sync for new lovers or the teenagers that you once were finally admitting your feelings for one another after all this time— truly proving to you that kirishima had waited. that there was no one else while you had been away, just as he’d told you earlier on. his hips rut against your arousal soaked panties, pressing against your fluttering cunt and riling him up beyond belief— both of you shudder as you practically ride his precum loaded tip, the dull head of it nudging your clit over and over again to the point where you’re scared you might cum to soon.

“eijirou,” you croak, needy and without shame— your soft hand darting between the bump and grind of your bodies to grasp at his thick, temperate shaft as it glides through the length of your cotton clad slit. “s-slow down…’m sensitive,” you breathe heavily into his mouth while both of you gasp into each other’s open mouths and share high-pitched moans, your chest rising and falling as if you’ve been running a marathon. his forehead, lightly doused with sweat, rests against yours as he pouts— leaning close to tug on your bottom lip.

his usually kind and bright ruby eyes are lust blown, the black in them nearly eclipsing the red colour. “but sweetness,” he whines, cock twitching in your hold as blood pulses through the pretty purple veins wrapped around it. “fuck, s-sweetness, ‘m barely holdin’ back here.” kirishima sounds like a broken man, more wrecked than you from only a little dry humping. his grip on your thighs tightens in anticipation, the broad and muscular man close to collapsing on top of you. 

“lemme touch you,” you whisper, voice silky smooth and sultry while you work your hand past the band of his sweats to get a better proximity to his hardness. “make you feel it,” your gentle fingers explore him, tracing over the thick veins on the underside of his length before forming a fist around the rest of him— creating the perfect sticky fleshlight for eijirou to fuck. he hisses, jutting his hips forward into your hand while the air tingles with a newfound desire to be close— to forget whatever bad blood had brewed between you both earlier on in the day.

wet, slick sounds fill the room, acting as a personalised soundtrack to jerking kirishima off. he leaks copious amounts of arousal, white and loose from his bright red tip coloured in a shade to rival his hair and eyes. his precum guides the movement of your hand despite the restriction from his waistband, slipping and sliding up and down his dick. saliva pools on the palette of your tongue as you gauge the sheer size of your childhood crush— he’s huge, swollen and fat with an oncoming orgasm, with the seed that weighs down his balls that swing with each rut of his hips.

the wild whine that resounds from deep within kirishima’s rock hard chest makes your cunt quiver, your juices darkening the crotch of your underwear. all the while, the redhead ravishes you pulling your atoms apart and putting them back together with just his touch— running from your thighs, over your hips and stopping just below your ribcage, thumbs sitting under the flesh of your breasts. “pretty girl, you’re g’nna be the death of me if ya keep jerkin’ me off like that,” he stutters out, breath condensing on spit shining top lip. it makes him throb knowing that it’s him, that did that to you— using his saliva as his claim over you. “ohhh fuck, just like that…god, i-i can’t.”

you feel a little powerful, breaking such a big and strong man down into nothing but a resolve of pathetic squeaks and hiccuped mewls. though, you fail to remember that you’re just a puppet on eijirou’s strings— he’s the master in this scenario, his large hands moving up to cup the entirety of your chest, groping them roughly as the feverishness of hips increases. without a second thought, he tweaks your nipples, brushes over them with the heat of your palm as if to make you as much of a mess as himself. levelling the playing field. 

though he’s hunched over you, kirishima falls like an angel with burning wings angel from up above and descends down on your clothed chest— ravenous teeth biting into your right sensitive and stimulated mound, hot mouth sucking on it while his free hand cruelly toys with the other. his strawberry tongue rolls languidly over your nipples, earning him those darling babyish cries from between your bruised lips and a squeeze to his dick— the sensation sending his eyes rolling far back into his skull. “d-don’t get too cocky, baby,” the redhead rasps nice and low despite his voice cracking like the slow burn of firewood. “‘m in charge r’member?” and he is, even if you pump his slick cock to your heart's content, he still dominates every corner of your mind. he still has mastery of your every waking thought, raunchy or not. kirishima owns you, whether you like it or not. 

without another word, he latches back onto you— biting and sucking at whatever he can like he’s teething, marking up your raw and covered flesh like a man starved of his last meal. you don’t dare to think of anything else, drinking up the sight of kirishima’s wet and sloppy cock in your hands instead, sure that his sweatpants are tainted with the preview of his impending high, a charcoal coloured patch forming where his clear and stringy arousal seeps through the fabric and dirties your hands with salacious sin. 

your watery eyes dart upwards to watch the man’s face, serene, pretty as he uses you…and in a way, you use him. a crutch for your emotional imbalances, a numbing drug for the pain lodged in your chest. eijirou kirishima is the visage of beauty that distracts you from the harsh, ugly reality of your daunting world— with fuzzy and contented eyes, ropes of his own drool connecting the roof of his mouth to his eager tongue and rose tinted cheeks that are coloured almost the same shade as the apple the snake offered to eve ( a perfect match ).

he’s forbidden, he’s a trap set out to get you— and you find yourself going against all the alarm bells ringing off in your head.

because you want him. you want to be wanted by him. 

“can ya do me a favour, darlin’?” eijirou shakes in your hold, crumbling as your thumb glides over the oozing slit on his tip before you circle it subtly. “think ya can make me cum? be so fuckin’ good f’me, hm?” they’re not questions, more like candy wrapped order and you follow them blindly— led head first by his alluring voice into a pool of honeyed praises with each syllable running through your ears, sending a shiver right down your spine and to the tips of your toes. “got so much f’you sweet girl…fuck, wanna give it all to you.”

when you nod— desperate to please him, the corners of kirishima’s lips twitch up into slow sick grin that you know shouldn’t make you melt, should strike fear into your heart, before he kisses you tenderly, letting you know how good you are for him.

your free hand joins its partner beneath the layers of eijirou’s clothes, letting him fuck through both of your fists as if they’re the tight, velvety depth of your cute little pussy clenching around him. “are you close, ei?” you ask him softly, pleadingly with a growing appetite to see him weak above you. the pace of your fingers switches from fast to tantalisingly slow, and the changes in stimulation only serve to bring kirishima closer and closer to his high— his chest heaving and speech pattern slurred, like he’s losing touch with reality and the last remainders of his sanity. 

it doesn’t take much for him to tumble over the edge, just a small whimper of his name on your cherry bitten lips has kirishima seconds away from cumming— hard. he pushes your hands away, hazy and swaying on his feet as kirishima takes over on tugging one off on his fat cock. “lemme see that pussy baby, need’a see her, w-wanna—!” his rambled words taper off into a strangled groan as you lift your night shirt high and yank your soiled panties to the side with freed hands— revealing your warm shiny mound to his greedy gaze. “f-fuck!”  he can’t help it, how much he cums— white hot seed spewing from his aching cock all over your thighs, your shirt and your adorable twitching sex, so wet and sticky all for him. his orgasm shakes the mountain that is eijirou kirishima like an earthquake, and much like a rockslide, he tumbles over you— humping the creaminess between your thighs like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do.

kirishima doesn’t stop cumming, his heavy load thick and lubing you up while he pushes his milky shaft through your bare folds, convulsing over you on the desk as your pussy lips cling to him— tied to his shaft by your syrupy nectar and the remnants of his orgasm. “oh…eijirou,” you sigh, barely holding back your hips as they circle upwards to meet his, grinding your naked mound against his— the scent of sex beginning to hang in the fizzling air between you both. “w-we should grab a condom… or somethin’…” you add half heartedly, the rawness of his cock slotting perfectly against you replacing all rationale in your mind as you commit the feeling to memory.

“but i like you like this darlin’, so close, so wet up against me…makes me wanna fuck you raw,” kirishima says like a petulant child, blissed out and already throbbing with life again— gearing up for another round. “don’t you wanna feel me that way? lemme stretch you out, get nice ‘n fuckin’ deep…ohmyfuckin’ god, y’feel like heaven, baby...” just being pressed up against you like this makes his dick spurt tiny streams of seed, eijirou’s eyes screwing shut as he pushes himself past his overstimulation to grind into your addictive heat  some more.

your jaw goes slack, muscles giving out on you as you collapse against the desk— an electric current of pleasure humming through your body each time eijirou catches your clit, pushing his milky seed through the length of your puffy pussy and letting it stick between your folds. “w-we can’t…” you weakly protest through your clouded judgement. “‘m s’pposed to be responsible.”

shaking his head, kirishima pouts down at you. “baby please…, please,” there’s no denying that eijirou knows his way around people, maybe a little more so than you. he knows just what to say to a customer to get a better price for his work, knows how to charm someone into doing exactly what he wants with just a smile. “won’t put it in, we’ll just keep goin’ just this,” he pants, slowly drawing his hips back until the only thing that connects him to your sopping cunt is strings of your mixed arousals. “we’ll get’cha plan b in the mornin’ too…please, i’ll do anythin’,” pushing back against you, it’s clear that he knows how to get to you, predicts your next move in every game of chess you play. so when he grins down at you dopily, noses your cheek softly and almost romantically, you can’t help but give in. 

“p-promise, eiji?” you ask him wetly, with big bambi eyes and your lips caught between your teeth. both of you cry out in unison when the repair man reaches between your sweaty bodies to take hold of his cock— making sure to circle the bulbous tip into the swollen nub peeking out from between your folds.  

he coos when your puckered and clenching hole gushes from the new stimulation— calling out to him, begging to be filled and fucked. “yeah yeah, i promise,” he says under his breath distantly, stretching his thumb up to spread your pussy, groaning from deep within his chest at the raunchy view. it’s a picture of scandal— viscous, treacle-like tides of your nectar, like dew drops on an early morning, run down the length of your slit and drip to the desk below.

no one would believe kirishima if he told the world he had you like this, and part of him selfishly wants to keep you writhing against his hot and heavy dick all to himself, anyway. “god…ain’t i lucky, got the cutest lil’ cunt in the world right here. all mine.” 

“all yours,” you slur back and trip over each word, throwing an ambrosial and avid look kirishima’s way— telling him without words how much you crave him. “move, please.” your hands take purchase on the curve of his taut ass so that you can lazily grind into one another— your hips rocking fluidly like a boat on waves. you feel like you’re going fucking insane beneath kirishima, but god’d make him a liar if he said he didn’t feel the same. he chases after your sweltering, soused sex like a dog after a bone— pushing forward when you pull back and vice versa.

“baby…y’so wet, can you hear that?” kirishima simpers, his dick slotting against you perfectly,  both of you moving with an air of vigour and restlessness— grasping and tugging at one another wherever and whenever you can. “so nasty, so sweet. s’adorable!” he praises you over the crude sound of your sexes echoing into the night air, each sugar-coated word running through you like honey in your system.

he cups your neck while your eyes roll back in an attempt to keep your blurry gaze on him, ensure that you can watch the man fall apart on top of you, so you know he only gets like this for you. so you remember you can only get like this for him. “you look like you’re about to cum, darlin’… must be so close, huh?”

the feeling of your orgasm twists in your lower tummy, the pressure building right above your pelvis at a painfully slow pace. a gargled gasp and the pinch of your nails into his flesh will tell kirishima that— though he’d earned it, tapping the weight of his shaft against your spasming pussy to test his theory. “mhm…so you are about t’cum?” he guesses, the vibration from his condescending gripes rattling you beneath him. “gonna make a pretty mess of me, yeah?” 

“uhuh,” you sigh out, voice increasing in octave while your tongue darts out to wet your lips and the tips of your ears start to burn. “‘m right there, s-shit! don’t stop—!” 

“don’t cum.” one second, eijirou’s teasing your clit— dangling your orgasm right in front of you like a carrot in front of an animal, the next he’s plunging the monstrosity he calls a cock deep within your warmth— letting her welcome him home all while telling you to fight your body’s instincts. telling you not to cum. “you cum, ‘nd i fuckin’ stop, you got that?” the way he stretches you out is delicious, stinging at the rim of your entrance with a delightful twinge of pain. he’s lucky you’re so fucked out, wet too, otherwise you would have chewed him out for forcing his hefty girth all the way into you and without a condom too. “g’nna hold it f’me baby, promise it’ll feel so much fuckin’ better…” 

losing his composure, the repairman sets a brutal tone to the pace of his hips— jack hammering into your poor swollen pussy without a second thought, groaning loud and proud over the desk that creaks under the burden of your animalistic ministrations. “k-kirishima!” you wail in surprise, tears biting at your waterline, spilling out onto your salt licked cheeks. “y-you’re bein’ unfair!” everything you say is hiccuped out and warbled, shaken up by the forceful thrusts kirishima gives to your lush and goey sex. 

“you’re such a crybaby, gorgeous, i—fuck— only asked you to hang on fer a lil’bit longer,” he snaps back through harsh breaths, throwing his hips back and forth, back and forth— cock smearing it’s precum along the pleasure spots on your ribbed and overstimulated walls. “thought you wanted to be my good little baby, now you’re bein’ a brat? now you can’t wait? such a fuckin’ pitty,” this kiri is meaner, harsher, but still tops up your lungs with a blistering lust in explosive shades of red and orange.

though they hurt so good, it feels even better too, there’s not a moment where you don’t feel filled to the brim with bliss, the redhead’s huge dick repeatedly jamming against your g-spot, lightly pressing into your tummy— at least that’s what it feels like.

eijirou is bigger than you could have ever imagined, but you should have realised that from the moment you couldn’t wrap your hand around the entirety of his cock. he’s weighted, chubby against the sugar-glazed stickiness lining your gummy walls the further he presses into you. if you squeeze down on him, douse him in your candied essence then kirishima shakes like a leaf above you— a mountain brought down to his knees by an earthquake as his uneven breathing prickles at the shell of your ears. the raunchy sound crackling across your brain like electrical static. 

usually, the redhead is a man of restraint, patience and kindness— but he’s done holding himself back from indulging in the treasure he’s been hunting for most of his life. you. “i wanna move, darlin’,” he seethes through gritted teeth with your bodies flush and close, pelvis to pelvis when he reaches the hilt. your cunt clamps down on him so hard that he feels like he can barely move, suffocated by the selfishness of your creamy hole. he’s barely keeping himself together at this point, pulled another step closer to the edge by every ripple of your sex around him. “s’fuckin’ tight, almost like you want me to fuck you open…”

something on your face changes, the slightest twitch of your features indicating your desperation. your brows are knitted, lips parted and doe eyes dazzling bright— it makes kirishima grin, lick his lips like he sees right through you, right down to the cells and DNA that make up who you are. make you a needy little bitch who’s hips buck up to coax more of his pulsating, scorching hot cock deep into your guts. “i want you t’do whatever you want with me, eiji,” you hiccup pathetically, oozing nectar down both his thighs and balls. 

“what a sweet expression…” he mumbles fondly, using his brute strength to manhandle your calves up and over his wide and toned shoulders— the pair of you choking on pitiful groans with how deep he gets. “y’makin’ me wanna kiss you again.” with both of you positioned like this, kirishima drops his entire weight onto you and pulls his length back from the snugness of your heat, simultaneously diving back in for a lewd and uncoordinated kiss. you yelp at the loss, but your eyes roll back when his hips surge forward and kirishima fills you up to brim in one powerful thrust. 

the desk squeals louder than you do, overpowered by the force that eijirou used to brutally pound into you— fat drops of his precum beading along your ripe insides, the ones that welcome him home with every push and pull of your sexes dancing together. your pussy froths at the base of him, as does your mouth as it slots against his— sharing moans and swapping spit, tongues rolling over one another’s. it makes you twitch, makes you scale your nails down his back possessively knowing that he waited this long to ravage you like this, even if he’d lied and hurt you just to get you to take his dick.

“s-say it,” you fight through the thick drool on your tongue and the tears that burn in your throat to whisper to him. at first, the redhead doesn’t hear you— hyper focused on his large hands spreading your pussy lips apart so he can spit onto your mound, watching the crude mixture disappear inside of you. “eijirou.” you grunt a little more sternly, speaking over the wet pap pap pap of his dick plunging in and out of you. “you’re mine. n-no one else’s. you’re only like this for me.” cupping his cheeks, you pin his blood ruby stare onto you, watching as it softens only just.

kirishima falters, the rhythm of his hips stuttering just a little. “‘m yours, darlin’,” he says genuinely, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as if to keep you from slipping between his fingers. “f’as long as you want me.” he pulls at your heart strings, pulls little whines from deep within your chest, eijirou kirishima stretches you both physically and mentally beyond your limits to the point where everything feels so good that it hurts. you’re afraid of what lies on the other end, what waits for you after all this blinding and mind numbing ecstasy is over— you don’t want him to stop.

“i gotta cum, sweetness… ‘m close,” he huffs against your shoulder, wisps of his red mane sticking to your damp, sweaty skin. he shifts, resting a hand against the wall behind you for leverage— ravaging you with the last of his energy driven into frantic, hungry movements. “you r’member what i said right? n-no fuckin’ cummin’ until i say so.” 

gone is your darling kirishima, his warmth replaced by the beast of lies and lust. “fuck…’m so close, gonna cum all over this lil’cunt,” he drawls loud enough to wake anyone in a ten mile radius, swaying with you in sacriligeous dance, speeding up to chase his own high. almost leaving you forgotten and left behind.

“s-slow down eiji, i can’t— can’t hold back if you don’t—!” 

you squeal out, but he doesn’t care, lost in his own pleasure. “maybe i’ll fuck it into ya, fill you so good…” the redhead simpers when you sieze up and trap him inside of you. the dam bursts before you can push him off, his fingers shakily snaking between your bodies to roll over your clit as he creams your insides— potent seed clinging to every ridge and soft spot of your inner pussy. 

tainting you. 

ruining you. 

“s-shit. sorry baby.” he mumbles, never letting up or slowing down despite how sensitive he is— rubbing at you until you’re rendered weak and useless, your own release crashing over you in a sudden wave. “c’mon…let go for me… that’s it, good girl.” 

you claw at his back hard enough to draw blood the entire time. you want him to hurt, just like he had done so with you.

“pretty girl,” his voice cuts through the fog settling over your mind. “let’s…let’s get you cleaned up, yeah? do you wanna shower or i could grab a cloth and—“ 

it amazes you, how he can switch between personalities so easily— make an emotional mess of you one second and treat you like you’re the only person in the world the next. “i just want to sleep, eiji,” you say numbly as he carefully sets you back down, as if you’re made of glass. 

he frowns, for only a split second, replacing it with a tight lipped smile. “at least let me take you to the bathroom, i don’t want you getting sick.” 

“fine, red.” you oblige, letting the man lift you into his arms to clean you up— an uneasy sleepiness taking over you as you follow his command, helplessly once again.

if there’s one thing you know for certain, it’s that eijirou kirishima has always been sweet.

perhaps it’s in his nature, hardwired into each individual fibre of his DNA, to be as kind and as caring as he— like he was genetically coded from conception to some incredibly gentle giant. a man who would cherish his partner or romantic interest above all else, or maybe it was down to his two mothers and the way they raised him. 

but being a person who’s experienced all sides of the dice, who’s had to read into the eyes of others to know what they’re really thinking about you— you can feel that something is eerily off with kirishima. despite the night of passion that you’d shared, succumbing to days, if not weeks of want directed towards one another— you still feel somewhat afraid. he stays over most nights, and you fall into the same routine in the sheets, waking up to mornings of regret and staring at the ceiling when he kisses the pulse point on your neck. you feel scared. like he might try to rip your lifeline out every time he does. 

eijirou is sweet, you have to remind yourself when he randomly squeezes your hip during the day, passing by to work on repairs on another part of the house. eijirou is not bad. he would never cause harm to you, but the thought still lingers in the back of your mind every time you catch him lingering around corners; or following you around the house only to surprise you with affections that don’t feel real— don’t feel like him. perhaps kirishima was never nice, never sweet or never good— and you’re only just seeing through his gentlemanly facade.

your rose tinted window is beginning to crack. 

if he hadn’t been so avoidant of your questions about izuku, about what you need to know for your book, maybe you could see past the true parts of him that begin to show. for now, you shift uncomfortably underneath his coal furnace heated limbs after another night tangled in the sheets with kirishima, his arm is slung heavily over your waist as you struggle to find your phone amongst the mess you’ve created. 

the device chimes with two notifications, though early in the morning and you grunt with both annoyance and success once you pull it out from beneath your pillows and the screen blares blue light into your face. 

mina ashido ( publicist beloved ) at 9:45AM: hey love, just checking in to see how the draft for that first chapter is coming along, gonna need an update soon x

reminders app at 10:27AM: izuku’s anniversary. 

your vision swims, that sickly feeling of grief flooding your veins like thick black tar— suffocating you from within your own body. the anniversary of your brother’s death has never slipped your mind like this before, it usually arrives weeks before the actual date does, a mental reminder creeping up on you like that wolf in the children’s fable of little red riding hood— but this year, you’d almost forgotten the event.

the tragedy that changed the trajectory of your life forever. 

maybe you can place the blame on your mother, like you do for most things, blame her for not holding on long enough to see another torturous year without izuku by your side— torture her for a little longer with the loss of her golden child. 

it can still be her fault that you forgot, if you try hard enough. after all, she’s the one who decided to kick the bucket, too, making it all about her grief— yet again.

“that’s today?” kirishima utters from over your shoulder, voice laced with sleep with his gaze settled on the digital glow from your phone. you’d failed to notice him wake up, too engrossed in the notification to feel his movements around you. “are ya okay?” 

shaking your head, you shrug and allow yourself to use the redhead as your crutch and as your comfort— no matter how confused you might feel about him right now, you know that he’s been through this loss too and deserves some solace like you do. so you lean into his grip as you speak. “i had no idea that it was going to be today either,” your voice is the most devoid of emotion it’s ever been. at least to eijirou it is. you look empty, feel lifeless in his arms and he hugs you close to try alleviate the shockwaves of pain running through you. “i think… i think i wanna go see him. his grave.” 

“you sure? ya want me to come along or somethin’?” 

“no, i should go alone.” shaking your head no again, you turn to look eijirou dead in the eye. “it’s been a while since i’ve been and i’m sure you go to see him all the time.” eijirou stiffens and loosens his hold on you— almost as if he’s revealing a part of himself that he doesn’t quite want you to see. taking off his mask as the rose tinted glass above you both threatens to shatter once more. “but we can do something together when i get back, a family dinner? like the ones we used to have. i think izuku would like that.” 

“for sure,” eijirou responds quickly, perking up again and pressing kisses up your arm in an attempt to keep you calm. you almost hate that it works, that he plays you for a fool even though you know he holds secrets above your head. little white lies that he feeds you just to keep you sedated— you hate that at this moment, it’s still not enough to steer you away from your sweet old eijirou kirishima. that you don’t distrust him enough yet, despite what your dead mother might have believed about him and your brother’s death. “i could cook his favourites after ‘m done re-paintin’ some of the rooms today.” 

you seemed to have forgotten that eijirou stuck around out of convenience to work on the house and not just to keep you company and ravage your body night after night as a distraction from your discoveries or anguish— perking up too at the mention of paint. 

“oh, you finally picked out colours then?” 

“mhm, though some are mostly different shades’a green.” 

“why green?” 

“t’honour him, was his colour after all.” kirishima says simply, checking your face for permission for his idea. 

the colour green is supposed to represent health, the shade of life. your brother’s colour. and you despise that, how it’ll be immortalised in the walls of your childhood home… because to you, none of it is true. green when associated with deku means death, it means sickness, it means envy of the happy life others around you lead when yours fell apart as soon as he was taken from you. 

green walls wouldn’t even begin to honour the person you loved most. 

but it was his. it was present in his glistening and curious eyes, his unruly and wild curly hair. it was definitely his. 

so, you push through the pain and you pull yourself together enough to offer kirishima a half-hearted and appreciative smile— instead of screaming the protests your lonely heart sings. 

“thank you eiji, i’m sure izuku would love that.” 

kirishima insists that you take his truck up to the graveyard. it’s a little ways away out of town, up one of the rockier trails where lost loved ones can quite literally rest in peace. overnight, it had snowed up to your ankle, and there was absolutely no way your little sports car-convertible had the strength to pump itself uphill in this weather. you weren’t sure if it was worth the risk either. 

your brother was a sentimental person, that much you remembered. he found something to cherish in almost everything he touched, appreciated gifts no matter how big or how small— just knowing that you’d thought about him was enough. that’s how you knew not to splurge on the overly priced bouquets of flowers in the whiteridge gift shop, how you figured something homemade for his grave would be better than the half-assed and plastic-wrapped wilted flowers sold in the convenience store next to liquid gold.

so, with this in mind, you stop kiri’s truck just outside of the woods— trudge through the thick snow and black ice in search of something…something thoughtful.

wildflowers.

you gather sweet violets in the shade of a rich purple, barren strawberry for their delicate white petals and the gentle blush pink of butterbur. each flower, growing wild and unruly at the foot of overarching pine trees or huddled together, reminds you of him— the way his curls couldn’t be tamed, the way his star-spotted cheeks still held warmth despite the bite of cold in the winter seasons. they all somehow connect back to izuku. you don’t know how long you spend picking flowers as you make your way up to the graveyard, your fingers growing stiff with the frosty air, your nose sore and chest a little tight from the oncoming cold you’re about to catch…but you can’t find it in you to care. 

izuku would have loved this, you know that, you can practically hear the quiver of gratefulness in his youthful voice— see the smile stretching across his lips and the fresh stream of tears in his eyes. ‘f-for me?’ he would have said to you. ‘t-thank you so much!’ he would have added. because izuku was not a materialistic person, he was not one for gestures of grandeur; he'd always want something from the heart. you can only hope that your small bouquet of children from nature is enough for him, enough to make him feel loved even while he rests. 

you love him so much, you miss him more and you even hate him just a little— for leaving you alone so soon. 

by the time you reach the top of the hill, melted snow has infiltrated your boots and soaked through to your socks— you’re shuddering, you’re teary eyed but you’re there and a little more ready to see his stone. kirishima had told you that he hadn’t visited your brother in a while, so the headstone might have needed a little sprucing up but when you arrive, it’s already clean.

there’s not a cobweb in sight, it looks like it’s been scrubbed of any grime brought on by the countless types of weather that falls upon the little town of whiteridge and there’s a bouquet of flowers that look similar to the ones you clutch tightly in your right hand sitting on the ledge— a box of steaming pork katsu right beside it. 

izuku’s favourite.

approaching the grave, you drag your fingers along the engraved cursive of your brother’s name— brows crinkling and face sagging with a muddled lour. a twig snaps behind you and between the snowflakes that fall hard but slow, you manage to make out tufts of straw blonde hair poking out from beneath a thick cable-knit hat and a pair of blazing crimson eyes. “hey,” as he gets closer, you can just about follow the movement of his lips as words form around them, the man from the bar towering over you— his hand with a flask in it, outstretched. “want some green tea? ya look like a shakin’ purse dog.” bakugou offers so casually as if running into him at the grave of your dead brother isn’t the strangest thing in the world. 

a beat of silence passes, filled only with the wind's wails— a symphony of pathetic howls and cries that only your mother could recreate. when you don’t respond, katsuki shrugs with the rustling of his winter coat and unscrews the cap of his flask, pouring a cup of tea out for you and shoving it between your nimble fingers. 

he almost thinks that you’re frozen in place, before the piping hot mug thaws at your state of shock. “what the fuck are you doing here?” you blink up at him with snowflakes in your lashes, a warm puff of breath condensating on your lips from how much your chest heaves— annoyance and bewilderment rattling about amongst the sparse oxygen in your lungs, from being so high up.

bakugou looks at you like he’s holding back— pained as he debates on what to tell you. “it’s deku’s anniversary—“ 

“izuku’s.” you snap back harshly, correcting him, snarling and baring your teeth like a provoked and angry dog. “first the bar, then my mom’s place and now here. it’s like you’re obsessed with my family or somethin’. you don’t— did you even know him? my brother?” it’s irrational the way you speak to him, using your heightened grief to lash out at a man you barely know. regardless, bakugou stands his ground— let’s you vent at him over the steaming drink he’d been so kind as to pour you. “it’s not like you were even friends—“

but every man has his limits, his invisible line before the point at which he snaps. “that’s a damn lie.” he barks back a little too honestly and with just as much force, words piercing through the blizzard and your force field of anguish. “we were more than friends…fuckin’ brothers and i—“ everything he had planned to say, dies on the tip of katsuki’s tongue, lost in the wind as if he can’t tell you anymore. as if he’s too far over that invisible line.

“and you miss him,” you finish for him, gesturing to the small display of flowers the blonde had set up— crouching a little so yours can join them. “how…how did you know him?” prying gently, you think back to the photos of them that your mother had hidden— he and kirishima and your brother— and take advantage of the vulnerability clinging to katsuki like the heavy snowfall. 

“we met at school, like everyone else did.” bakugou fixes his blood red stare onto your other hand clasped around the mug and nudges at it after a few moments, prompting you to take a sip and not saying anymore until the temperate liquid slides down your throat and earthy tones spread across your tongue. he notices it then, the satisfied twitch of your face amongst the wretched snow, and continues— knowing that you’re warmed up, doing what izuku would have done for you.

“he was the only kid that spoke t’me after the town practically fuckin’ villainised me. a freakin’ kid.” he laughs bitterly, nervous fingers tapping the cool marble of izuku’s headstone. “not that it mattered, was the drug addict’s son, all of whiteridge hated that. hated me.” then he looks at you, right at you— as if he’s reading deep into your soul and picking out the parts of your brother he sees in you. “‘cept for deku. he showed me kindness, hung out with me when other kids wouldn’t…” 

“he even got’cha ma t’look take care’a me from time to time. s’why i stayed with her after everythin’. we really were friends,” the blonde continues, telling you this like it was a promise. “we all were. ‘nd i shoulda done more t’save him.”

perking up, you grab bakugou’s wrist. “if you’d done what? what did you say?” 

“n-nothin’,” he yanks his hand back, walls building back up and sheltering his grief stricken heat by pulling his sleeve back over it. “i just meant, that maybe if i had been there f’deku like he was from me…he wouldn’t have died. not like that.” 

to hear someone else take the blame you’ve been bearing all these years, to be gifted with the knowledge that they’d been loved and cared for by izuku too is enough to bring you to tears— and you can’t even remember the last time you cried like this. crystalline and salty droplets strike a hot and stinging path down the apples of your cheeks as you realise. you are not the only person this town wounded in the war, you’re not the only person whiteridge viciously chewed up and spat back out. for once, you are not alone in the pain that you feel. 

you might not have remembered bakugou from back then and you might have even played your hand in his suffering, but if he truly meant a lot to your brother, then he now meant a lot to you too. more than a hook-up. a friend.

“‘m sure izuku would be happy that you came to see him today, you even brought his favourite.” you offer, reaching out to the blonde in the storm of grief— letting him know that he has you too.

“was gonna share it with ‘im, yanno just fer old time’s sake,” bakugou quips in response, relieved to have the topic changed. he fiddles with the box of the convenience store version of your brother’s favourite curry and passes you the set of wooden chopsticks it comes with before closing his eyes and putting his hands together to thank whoever’s out there for the meal. “but ‘m sure the nerd wouldn’t mind if i split with ya too.” 

bakugou peeks an eye open to look at you from the side, admiring how the blanket of settled powder white illuminates your features. “i don’t think he would mind, izuku loved to share,” mimicking the blonde, you clap your hands together and thank izuku for the food, for the memories and for bringing you someone to walk through the rest of your loss with. “and he had this weird habit of bringing people together,” snapping the chopsticks and rubbing them together, you take a mouthful of the food, humming at the warmth that embraces you— as if you’re being held by your brother himself. “in the most unconventional of ways.” 

you let the blonde take the dish and utensils from you— parting your lips when he holds another bite to them before feeding himself. “like gettin’ us to sleep together, sweetheart?” he chuckles, light and full of life— as if he’s feeling the same pain relief you are. 

“alright hot-shot, this is my dead brother you’re talking about.” you joke back, pulling another sweet symphony of laughter from bakugou. “what’s so funny, hah?”

“you mockin’ me, sweetheart?” katsuki cocks his head at you, swiping a thumb over the corner of your mouth— wiping away some leftover sauce.

“what if i am, sweetheart?”

at that, bakugou scrunches up his nose adorably, nearly killing you in the process, and pinches your cheek hard— tugging the flesh away from your face until you apologise between fits of giggles and squeals, begging for the blonde to let you go. 

the rest of your visit to izuku’s grave is spent in much higher spirits. you understand now what it means to share your grief with someone else. yourself and katsuki spend hours by your brother’s side, reminiscing, laughing and crying— drinking through the green tea flask to warm your souls until it’s finished and your fingertips are close to freezing off. 

taking your fingers between his, bakugou rubs the heat of his hands over yours— blowing some breath over them as he tenderly looks to you between the slowing snowfall. “yer freezin’ up, doll,” he murmurs, pressing his lightly chapped lips to the backs of your knuckles. “do ya need a lift back t’the house? i think deku would have my head from beyond the grave if i left’ya to walk back on yer own.”

your shoulders raise as you shrink in on yourself, not because you’re cold…but because of the way the blonde looks at you. as if you remind him of all things good in the world, as if you’re special and important and all things wonderful wrapped up in a gift with a pretty little bow. no one’s looked at you that way for as long as you can remember, not since your brother at least. 

katsuki looks at you as if you matter.

“uh, no,” you start, clearing your throat as you shy away from his intense stare. “i drove out here.”

“in that shitty ‘lil sports car ya got?”

screwing your face up into a pout, you send a playful glare his way. “you leave duchess outta this!” 

“pfft,” bakugou sucks his teeth, but grins at you and facetiously pets your head, nonetheless. “whatever.” 

“i took kirishima’s truck on the way up,” the blonde grimaces, visibly wincing at your words. “he insisted because my baby duchess couldn’t handle the snow and iced up roads…but if you drove too, you could follow me back to the house?” you explain calmly, pulling bakugou’s attention back onto you and not the fact that you’re so buddy-buddy with the aforementioned redhead. “kirishima and i are having a dinner for deku and…we—i’d love it if you came to celebrate him.” 

the man before you doesn’t respond, still eyeing you with that same intense and calculating stare before he shrugs, slinging his arm over his bent knee. “what’s in it fer me?” 

you smile at that, remembering his words from your night at the hotel. “a free meal and spending some extra time with me?” 

“fine,” he says, standing and outstretching his hand for you to take so that he can help you up. “sounds like a deal, princess.” 

“hey darlin’, is that you? you back already? i was just about to finish up with the—“

kirishima’s voice fails him when he notices you standing in the doorway to the kitchen sheepishly, your jacket folded over your arms neatly while bakugou shrugs his off from behind you. subtle scents of fresh paint and spices that once filled the room quickly become mellowed out by tones of testosterone and quiet rage that both men exude. “hi eiji…i hope you don’t mind but i brought one of izuku’s strays over for dinner…” setting your clothes to the side, you step forward to greet the now brooding redhead, but he looks straight past you— his face hardened while his usually sparkling ruby eyes darken with the clouds of an oncoming storm. “eijirou…” you whisper with a little more firmness, only to be shrugged off once more.

“what is he doing here?” he asks, keeping his voice short despite the anger skimming just below the surface of his skin, particles of the emotion vibrating against kirishima’s vocal chords.

innocently, albeit mockingly, katsuki tilts his head to the side— rows of his pearly white teeth on display as he smirks slow. “you got cotton between ya ears or somethin’ red? she invited me over fer dinner,” he juts his chin out to gesture towards you as you turn away from kirishima, exasperated with both of their behaviours. “‘m here to celebrate izuku’s anniversary.”

kirishima rolls his eyes and tugs on the sleeves of his green-chequered button up  even though they’re already rolled up snug on his convex biceps. “celebrate.” he throws down the towel that’s slung over his shoulder, snarling his words with an incredulous tone. “you weren’t even friends with izuku!”

“shut the hell up, y’don’t know a damn thing, red!” bakugou fired back, equally as riled up as the other man in the room— his own wrath bubbling over like the soup kirishima has going on the stove. “talkin’ shit about friendships like what you had with him even meant somethin—“

“oh, i call bullshit, bakugou.”

“yeah? ya sure that stencha shit ain’t comin’ from you?”

you feel as though you’re in the middle of a war zone, dazed and confused at the two people who seemingly meant a lot to your brother ( as far as the picture you had of them went ). they fire worded missiles and shrapnel insults at each other, not caring that you stand in the middle of no-man's land, seconds away from being hurt— too caught up in whatever conflict that’s brewed between them over the years.

“will you two just shut it?” you screech into the midst of the battle, eyes screwed shut and fists balled at your sides. “what’s the matter with you guys? arguing like this on the day your close friend died.” both men reach out to touch you, silenced and apologetic but you shake them off, inhaling deep to calm yourself down. “yanno, i have this nagging feeling that the two of you were supposed to mean something to izuku, that he cared for you both so…profoundly…and i have no idea what happened between you both, but i know that he would hate it— hate this.” opening your eyes slowly, you look between kirishima and bakugou with helplessness and a pleading gaze. “so please, just for today. can you try to get along for him? and if not for izuku, then for me?”

a tension lays thick and suffocatingly over the three of you, so much so that you’re sure not even the sharpest of butter knives would be able to cut through it. yet, slowly but surely, the redhead and the blonde nod their heads, grumbling out their agreements. 

“yeah, of course, darlin’.”

“whatever ya say, sweetheart.” 

though, both of them fail to admit that they’ve only agreed for a selfish reason— only agreeing because of you.

the rest of the meal goes without ( and you say this lightly ) a hitch, aside from the few snide remarks bakugou makes about kirishima’s cooking and the way that the taller redhead barges him back in response. they, at least, try to be on their best behaviour when you begin clearing up after your meal, three sets of dishes and cutlery all stacked up to the left of the sink with bakugou on washing and kirishima on drying. 

“see,” you coo, watching the boys work dutifully side by side. “that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

passing a bowl to kirishima, katsuki shakes his hands of the apple-scented suds on them and grabs another, grumbling and he does so. “yeah, i guess,” he grunts with an irritated tick to his actions. “the food weren’t half bad, shitty hair.”

“neither are you, asshole.” the other responds, running a tea towel over the water droplets on the bowl.

“what’cha say t’me?”

“what’s the matter, bakugou, y’got cotton between your ears?”

sighing again, you find yourself stepping between them both before fists are swung and break up the fight with a bribe. “okay, okay, while you boys play nice, imma go sift through my mom’s stuff and see if i can find a place to call for dessert,” you tell them, pushing yourself from the dining table to leave the room. “be good.”

and as soon as you’re gone, the claws come out.

keeping his voice low, eijirou is the first to pounce, practically tossing the dish he was drying into a nearby cupboard to point an accusing finger in your other companion’s face. “the fuck is yer game, bakugou? what the hell are you doin’ here? we promised to never speak to each other ag—“ the bulking redhead hardly ever gets like this, hardly ever feels the urge to put his hands on someone else— thats not how he was raised…but looking at the blonde before him drives him crazy and up the walls, his piping hot blood carrying vexed hormones straight through the logic in his brain.

“you think i wanna be here, red?” katsuki snaps back and cuts his rival off with stinging words, bearing his fangs, showing the pink of his gums. “the only reason i came was for her.” that much is true, after everything that’s happened between them, katsuki bakugou wouldn’t have been caught within a ten mile radius of this red haired jerk. 

“her? since when did ya give a fuck about anyone aside from yourself?” the whole idea is entertaining to kirikshima…the idea that the brooding blonde could possibly care for someone outside of his own being. it’s practically laughable, a joke so unheard of anyone would cackle the first time they heard it.

scrunching up his nose, nostrils flared—bakugou jeers back at the younger male, throwing the sponge he’d been using to wash up into the sink in a fit full of pent up irritation “yanno that’s real fuckin’ rich comin’ from you, asshole.” 

eijirou hisses back, refusing to back down in this fight for who’s right. “fuck you, katsuki, you were never supposed to come back, you got some damn nerve bein’ around her.”

“well unlike you, she’s got more reason t’trust me over anyone else in this fuckin’ town! even over you. ya don’t deserve her, you don’t deserve half the shit you got.” katsuki’s words are like acid, singeing right through eijirou’s supposedly unbreakable skin. they hit him right where it hurts the most, in his strong heart that beats for you. the girl he’s loved since before he even really knew what that meant and what it entailed. 

eijirou moves before he thinks, acting on instinct as his fist suddenly collides with katsuki’s face— stunning them both. bakugou barely has time to recoil, blood oozing thickly from his now busted lip before the redhead grabs him by the collar— seething directly in his face. “and you do?” he whispers through gritted teeth. “you’re nothin’ but a lowlife, a sad lil’ man livin’ on the out-skirts of town ‘cause no one’s given a fuck ‘bout’ya since your precious old lady died.” the back and forth between the two men never dies down, like a continuous game of tug of war with both of them pulling as hard as they can, giving the other burns from the rope in the process. 

seeing who can cause the other the most pain.

“you take that shit back, eijirou. she was like a mother to us. you know that.” bakugou’s voice wobbles, near crying out like a wounded animal.

“ah, so you’d still defend the woman, even after everything she put her through.” your childhood friend, he’s talking about you and the suffering your mother put you through— but neither man can tell if it's because he cares for you, or if it's to put the blonde through another round of mental agony.

“and you’d still keep on lyin’ to her, even if it meant costin’ her feelin’s instead of tellin’ her the truth!” he barks venomously. 

“what truth?” interjecting softly, you re-enter the kitchen with your phone in hand, the dial tone echoing from the device. “who’s feelings?”

bakugou is the first to say your name. “you’re back.”

“y-yeah, i found a place to order from…i just came to ask what either of you wanted,” you trail off. “what’s going on, you guys?’

you must look scared because both men relax their stances, worry cascading over two sets of features. “n-nothin’ gorgeous, we were just talkin’, s’all good,” kirishima says, using that sickly sweet tone that makes your skin crawl, the one he uses to play pretend and act like nothing’s wrong. “right, bakugou?”

the blonde looks over eijirou with disbelief, failing to fall for his nice guy facade where you usually do. “fuck you.” he spits, pushing kirishima away from him. “fuck this shit, ‘m leaving.”

“w-wait, katsuki!” 

“i shouldn’t have even come here,” he brushes you off, grabbing his coat as he curses under his breath. “i knew this shit was a bad idea, can’t fuckin’ be around him when he lies like that.”

eijirou moves to defend himself, but you catch katsuki by the sleeve desperately, searching his face for answers. “eiji wouldn’t lie to me...and please, stop being vague, i just want to know what’s going on,” you exclaim, equally as desperate as when you’d grabbed ahold of him.

“get off’a me!”

“don’t talk to her like that, bakugou.”

“i thought i told you, shitty hair, fuck. off.” katsuki froths like a rabid dog, pulling away from you both.

reaching out for him again, you try your best to plead with the man from the bar. “what’s the truth? eijirou would never lie to me!”

sparing you a glance, his eyes bore deep into your soul, reading you— looking for something you can’t see. “do ya trust him?” you hang back before nodding ‘yes’ in response. “do ya trust me?”

your throat bobs, an uncomfortable soundlessness feasting on the oxygen in the room. do you trust him? “i-i…” you hesitate to admit your truth. “i hardly know you, bakugou. kiri…he— we grew up together, he’s always been there for me.”

“and where was he these last couple years, hah?” bakugou laughs coldly when you don’t reply. “exactly. but that don’t matter, does it? as long as he puts his dick in ya t’keep y’quiet at night, you’ll keep on believin’ whatever bullshit he feeds you, ain’t that right, sweetheart?” he sends a heated glare over your shoulder. “right, kirishima?”

“i think you need to leave.” the other male voices from behind you, stern, level.

bakugou looks back down at you, waiting for you to wake up, offering you his metaphorical hand to shake yourself from this nightmare…but no matter what suspicions you hold to kirishima— you know him. you’ve known him all your life, and you’d be a fool to pick a stranger over him. 

bakugou takes your silence as his answer, and scoffs in sad mixture of disappointment and amusement. “fuckin’ figures. yer just like ‘em, everyone else in this shitty fuckin’ town.” he turns on his heel, marching out of the room before you can even stop him, slamming the front door to your mother’s house as he makes his own way out. “i hope yer makin’ the right choice,” he adds as he goes, the words echoing down the halls eerily. as if its a warning.

eijirou is quick to swaddle you in his candied, overbearing affections, wrapping his arms around you from behind— his chin resting on your forehead while you tremble from hurt. from fear. “‘m sorry, pretty girl,” he says, breath just tickling the shell of your ear. “i shoulda warned ya, kept ya away from him. that bakugou’s no good. the whole town knows that.”

ripping yourself from your childhood friend’s grip, you glower up at him— the look on your face is enough to put him six feet under. “what makes you think anything the town thinks of people is the least bit true?” you hiss, unimpressed.

“woah, hey! i’m not the bad guy here…” kirishima throws his hands up in defence, confusion taking residence on his face— evident in the crease between his brows and the downturned corners of his lips. “his parents did drugs yanno, he was practically raised by himself! you don’t know what kinda things guys like him get up to!”

“i practically raised myself! you have no fucking clue, eijirou! no clue what it was like for me or for him!” you’re screaming now, hot all over— so angry that you can feel the lump in your throat telling you that you’re about to cry. “does that make me bad? does that mean i deserved the way this town treated me?”

“n-no, darlin’ that’s not what i meant!” he tries to coo at you, tries to hold you again— but all you feel is disgust, betrayal towards him.

your head pounds, a migraine brewing at the back of your mind like a thunderstorm over the horizon. maybe everything you’d found, the letters and pictures from your mother had been a sign. a warning. trust no one, believe nothing but your intuition. “i want you to go.” deadpanning, you circle the sides of your head with two fingers in order to alleviate its ache. everything both bakugou and kirishima had said has your mind a whirlwind of a mess, like the aftermath of a hurricane and just having eijirou near makes your head hurt even more. “i need you to go.”

“baby…please, i didn’t mean it. t’mess this all up. what i said…i—“ the repairman attempts to reason with you, but you resist yet again.

“please!” you scream until you feel like your throat is bloody and raw, tears glimmering in your rain-clouded eyes. “just leave me the fuck alone!” from here, kirishima is quick to gather his belongings as you continue to scream and scream, following after him. “don’t come back, don’t call unless you’re going to be useful and fix this damn house instead of lying to me!”

you don’t stop yelling until he’s out of your childhood home, in his truck and halfway down the drive. 

you don’t stop crying until you know that he’s gone for sure.

nothing stops hurting until you crawl into your mother’s bed, wrap yourself in the sheets that smell like her and fall asleep to the warm memories of her, yourself and izuku back in your happier days.

and you swear, right before you drift off, you feel them both embracing you— telling you that the truth will come out and that it’ll all be okay.

some questions are best left unanswered.

its a common saying that you used to believe. you’d scream it at your mother all throughout your teenage years, begging her to open her eyes and see that you were suffering behind her cloud of desperation to uncover what had happened to your brother. but the longer you spent in the clutches of white ridge, the less faith you had in the saying— there were too many questions, too many puzzle pieces that fit together to paint the perfect picture. something happened here, that both kirishima and bakugou refuse to tell you, despite all the signs and odd behaviours that lead to them.

curiosity killed the cat.

you think you understand that one a little better now. your inquisitiveness and investigative nature will be the death of you. you need to find out what truly happened to izuku midoriya, the urge to uncover any ounce of the truth spreading through your body like a virus, your bloodstream teeming with the deadly infection known as said curiosity. it rots at your brain, sitting at the back of your mind like a heavy weight that stops you from concentrating on your original task. your book.

a few deys after your dumpster fire dinner for deku, mina had sent you the edits she’d made on the beginnings of your transcript. it wasn’t enough, she’d told you more or less, you needed something more captivating and in depth. your work just wasn’t enough. the thousands of words you’d poured your heart and soul into, every little raw and scalding detail of your early years deemed uninteresting in a matter of small and yellow highlighted notes. no matter how much digging you’d done, no matter how many pictures of them boys you’d uncovered— it wasn’t enough. 

“fuck that,” the cursor on your laptop and google doc flashes at you mockingly, daring you to type up more words that’ll only be obliterated by your publicist. you can’t write like this, with so much on your mind so you slam the lid of your device shut and rush yourself to get ready. there’s somewhere that you need to be, some questions that you need answered, no matter how much of a risk the truth may cause to you. 

to your destination, you take more hidden photographs that you’d uncovered beneath your mother’s mattress, ones of eijirou and katsuki, their arms around the shoulders of your shorter and youthful older brother. their smiles had been wide, eyes innocent and much unlike what you see in them today. on the back of the glossed papers, you find hand written messages— a list of belongings owned by your brother that had never been returned, friendship marks of tiny hearts on their inner wrists that indicate a lifelong bond. 

a bond that’s seemingly fallen to pieces, leaving you with clues to solve the mystery the shattered glass has left behind.

anxiety blossoms in the soils and flesh of your chest cavity once your car pulls up outside the whiteridge police station, it grows faster than you can keep up with, fertilised by the blood rushing through your ears and your levels of cortisol, the stress hormones, that spike. you remember it vividly, memories of frequent visits and damp questioning rooms and jingling handcuffs rush forth in your mind— making you swing open the door to the driver’s side in fear that you might throw up out of nervousness.

you feel your inner-child recoil with a hunger to escape with each step you take into the police building, remembering the hours you spent sat against PVC covered chairs in the waiting room, listening to your mother sob and plead for investigators to re-open izuku’s case.

you think about how she died without being able to rest, without bringing justice to her son.

you feel guilty for putting the blame on her for all these years too.

with a shaky breath, you approach the front desk and the officer behind it, coughing to grab their attention. “hi,” you mumble your name softly, leaning against the cool varnished wood for some relief that combats the world spinning around you. “i need to look at a case file? whatever you have on the midoriya incident.” you give him the date too, stumbling over the exact day and month.

“sorry lady, but that case has been closed for years,” the officer, officer monomania, drawls— grey eyes dragging lazily up and down your frame. “since before i started workin’ here, and we don’t give out scoop t’primp ‘n proper city journalists like you.” that same feeling of sickness from before crashes over you like a strong tidal wave and you grip the ledge of the desk to steady yourself. you wonder if that was how your mother felt, denied time and time again the opportunity to seek rectitude for her eldest child.

“i’m not a journalist, i have rights to the case,” you say simply, trying to keep the edge off of your trembling voice— this town has done you no good, chipping away at the strong walls you’ve built to protect yourself from all the harm it’d caused you while you were young. you may be from the city, you may not look like you’re from the quaint life of quiet little whiteridge, but this had been your home, and you’d be damned if you let it wear you down again. withhold the truth from you again.

standing tall, eyes darkening— you lower your voice to a bone chilling sneer. “if looking at me isn’t enough indication of who i am, then you’re going to have to listen to me very carefully, officer monoma.”

“i am one of this country’s best selling authors, the cost of my car parked right outside this building is probably worth more than every person in this shitty, filthy little town alone.” you’re tired of the world and the way in which it's treated you up to now, so you say fuck it all and direct all your rage at the one person who stands between you and your truth in this moment. “you don’t even want to know how much is in my bank account right now, and how little of a dent suing you and this place will make in my earnings. so i suggest, you take your ass to the back, get me the case file and whatever belongings you’re holding from these pictures and bring them back to this prim ‘n pretty fuckin’ author. y’got that?”

monoma visibly shrinks underneath your steeled gaze. “y-yes ma’am.”

you feel like you can finally breathe again once you’re back in the safety of your car, duchess, whipping out a bottle of water from the glove compartment and chugging it back just to wash the taste of bile out of your mouth. you can feel the weight of izuku’s case file sitting in your lap, scared to open it, scared to see what you might find— his belongings that they’d found at the scene fitting into a small ziplock bag, wrapped in a brown paper envelope. 

using careful fingers, you flip open the file— eyes skimming over the report, the autopsy and the witness statements. it tells the same story that had been relayed to your mother all those years ago. izuku midoriya, nearly two decades ago, had wandered into the woods just outside of west whiteridge unaccompanied at mid-day, and passed away alone after falling into a nearby river. the autopsy revealed a broken ankle, blood bond markings on his inner wrist that were freshly made the day of his death, and his shirt and accessories tucked away into a nearby bush.

final ruling: accident.

the contents of the ziplock bag reveal just that of the report, and you feel like your whole world has come crashing down. izuku knew how to swim, izuku was smart— he wouldn't have just wandered off injured and exposed himself to danger like that. not on his own.

that’s not who he was, and it wasn’t fair for the world to treat him that way.

with the evidence now in your possession, and every possible route or bridge to the truth burned and fizzled out, you make your way back to the house at top speeds— fuelled by your emotions, aching to get back into bed and scream into your pillow about how unbalanced the world seems. however, on your journey home, you notice a familiar looking jeep, one that you know belongs to a certain blonde who you haven’t seen or heard from since the night of deku’s dinner.

you know that the abrupt ending to such a pleasant night had mostly been your fault, taking kirishima's side over bakugou’s was a bad move, especially after the scene you’d walked in on. they were both equally to blame.

for the millionth time since you’d arrived in whiteridge, you move before your brain can catch up— turning your steering wheel so that your car blocks up the middle of the empty, icy country road and bakugou is forced to come to emergency stop. “are ya fuckin’ insane?” he yells, hauling himself from his driver’s seat and slamming the jeep door shut with force. “i coulda hit ya, or worse, killed ya!”

is it weird? that even when katsuki’s fuming he’s one of the most beautiful people you’ve ever seen? cherry red eyes suddenly fiery while he marches over to your car, your ribcage dramatically lifting and dropping with your ragged breathing from behind the wheel. 

“k-katsuki,” you breathe out when he opens your car door from where you’ve left it unlocked for him.

“jesus sweetheart,” his gaze sweeps over your face, eyes brimming with concern as all of his anger dissipates just from taking in your teary expression. “have you been cryin’? why the fuck’ve you been drivin’ so recklessly?”

his calloused fingers brush over the swell of your wet cheeks, and instinctively, you lean into his touch. “i wanted to apologise for the other night…i shouldn’t have put so much pressure on you and…” your voice tapers off, still confused by katsuki’s dynamic with eijirou and where they might stand today. 

he shakes his head, offering you a soft smirk. “don’cha worry about that, we shouldn’t have put’ya in that situation,” shrugging, bakugou nudges a stray tear from your cheek with his knuckle.“‘m skippin’ town anyways, so none of that matters anymore.”

this makes you perk up, and not in a good way. “y-you’re leaving whiteridge?” you grab at katsuki’s sleeve just like you did that night, a silent plea for him to stay and not leave you behind. 

“yeah, s’like kirishima said, i ain’t worth shit ‘round here.”

that's not true, bakugou has to know that. he was kind where the world had chewed him up and spat him right back out, he was honest where others were cruel and fed you lies on a silver spoon…and most importantly, he cared. for you, for your mother and for your brother. 

he had to know, that at least to you, bakugou was worth the world and then some. 

“you’re…you mean something to me, katsuki,” your hand on his wrist shoots up to his collar, tugging him down. so fast that bakugou has to balance himself with one hand on the roof of your car— his lips falling to meet yours in a gentle, pillowy kiss. having him like this, compared to the fast paced and rough nature of the sex you’d had before is like walking on clouds.

he tastes like caramel apples, feels like heaven and slowly but surely, he relaxes in your hold— noses brushing and his long golden lashes brushing against the apples of your cheeks. 

when the need for oxygen becomes too much for you to bare, you look at him yearly, brushing your own thumb over his kiss-swollen lips. “i-i like you, and i’m thankful to you for being my support this past month,” you hum, sniffing a little from the cold. “don’t forget me when you leave, kay?”

“how could i ever forget the girl at the bar that night, hah?” katsuki responds like its a promise, resting his forehead against yours.

déjà vu is a funny thing.

as soon as your back hits the inside of the door to your mom’s place, you feel as though you’re reliving your first night in whiteridge again. katsuki’s all over you, having followed you back here after your rushed confession— both of you deciding to say fuck it all and have one last hurrah. he floods your senses, he’s all that you can taste as his tongue sloppily glides over yours.

he’s all that you can smell, the scent of burning sugars filling your nostrils— poking at the flame burning in your lower belly. his low moans vibrate around in your skull erotically, between your own gasps for air and the rustling of your clothes.

you feel him everywhere, his hands on your waist, the back of your neck and up your skirt, groping at the flesh of your ass as bakugou hoists you up, lips still melting against yours like hot candy, and carrying you to the living room.

in a pile of limbs, you collapse onto the couch which squeaks underneath your combined weight. katsuki briefly pulls away from the alluring prison of your kiss— he would have been destined to a life sentence if he didn’t— and rest his head against your shoulder for a moment. 

katuski’s breath is balmy against your skin at the nape of your neck, and if you focus your fuzzy brain hard enough, you can feel his lashes there too. the steadiness of your pulse lulls katsuki closer, the blonde descending on your neck and whining at the taste of your skin spreading across his tongue. the man’s mouth is right against the column of your throat, and he’s embarrassed to admit, he’s had your body committed to memory from the very first night he’d touched you— knowing exactly which spot made you whine and which one had you arching into him too.

there’s an odd sense of tenderness about katsuki as his teeth graze your skin to paint deep shades of purples and blues against it— wet tongue lolling over any bruise he leaves. 

he treated you like a flower left to fend for itself out in the cold, covering you with the heat of his muscled body while your nails scratch down his back and fingers move up to curl in the blonde baby hairs on his nape. “k-katsuki,” the syllables of his name tumble from between your lips wistfully as knocks at your front door echo through the shell of the house. “katsuki…should probably get that, s’probably kiri—“

bakugou who had above you for a moment, his palm resting against the arm of the couch swoops down before you’re able to finish your sentence, delving deep into your mouth, his lips moving feverishly as if to leave one last claim on you. “he can fuckin’ wait, can’t he sweetheart?” he chuckles into the sweltering ambience of the room, licking into your mouth to swallow any protests you may make.

kirishima finds his way into the house anyway, using the spare key under the plant pot to get in as he usually would if you had overslept on days that he came for repairs. or, more recently, when you’d started ignoring him after the dinner incident. he hadn’t expected you to let him in for his job today, but he did plan on apologising for the way he’d treated you up to now.

that is until he catches you mewling on the couch pinned down by the man he hates more than anything in this world, katsuki’s hand practically half way down your panties, rubbing one off on you from under your skirt.

“what the fuck—?”

“don’t get pissed ‘n calm the fuck down, red. you’ll have yer chance with ‘er once i skip down s’dont fuck it up.” bakugou moans into your mouth, showing off a little as he sucks on your sucking on your syrupy tongue. “so either fuck off or come join us, she’d love it. she needs it. don’cha baby, s’fuckin’ pent up, poor thing.”

stepping into the room, kirishima reaches the pair of you in three short strides— using a rough thumb and forefinger to tilt your head over to face him, luring you into a slow and sultry kiss with the flavour of a bad decision. the blonde continues to draw shapes into the crotch of your panties, faster and faster to get you panting and drooling into the redhead’s mouth. your fingers curl in two sets of hair, keeping both of them close to ground yourself and when kirishima finally gives you the chance to breathe, you shyly push their heads together as the temperature of the room rises to a scalding heat.

bakugou makes the first move, cupping the sharpness of eijirou’s jawline and bringing him into a similarly sinful lip lock, dragging the tip of his strawberry tongue over the seam of the other man’s plump lips. “gonna let me in, red? g’nna lemme kiss ya?” he slurs with hooded eyes and a predatory gaze. 

“go ahead blondie, ‘m waitin’,” kirishima goads in response once they’re a breath’s width apart, not giving bakugou any time to dwell on the nickname before they’re kissing welty, all teeth and tongue in an uncoordinated rhythm. 

“f-fuck,” you whimper between the two of them, thighs squeezing together as if to hide the slickness pooling in the middle of them— far too turned on at the sight of them messily making out in front of you.

bakugou laughs at the sound, breaking away first. “she enjoyed that, look atcha pantin’ so fuckin’ nasty, hah?”

“don’t be mean bakugou,” kirishima reaches between his thighs, giving katsuki’s growing hard-on a playful squeeze. “you obviously liked it too.” vivid and merlot eyes drip into something dangerously dark as the redhead palms your other lover faster and faster— dragging salacious moans from between stubborn lips with each precise touch. “yer rock hard blondie, practically drippin’ all over my fingers. c’mere darlin’, feel what a mess you’ve made him.” giving katsuki some time to breathe, eijirou guides the three of you to sit up— your frame pressed between the heat of the two large men before he guides your smaller hand to the erection twitching in the middle of the shorter man’s thighs. 

“feel that? all that from just kissin’ ya doll.” there’s a hint of a smirk tied to the dips and dives of eijirou’s voice as if he’s mocking bakugou, gluttonously drinking up the way you gently pull bakugou’s cock out from his rough denim jeans— a wet patch formed at the crotch from where you’d smeared your pretty panty clad pussy all over him earlier. 

now that you have him in your grasp, you can already tell the difference between the two and their cocks. where bakugou is longer, his tip a shade of terracotta though slightly flushed from him being so aroused, kirishima is chubbier, his tip usually a bright red— harder to stretch around in a way that causes you to remember his delicious burn when pushing into you. bakugou is pretty and kirishima is monstrous. both make your mouth water. 

glancing over to the blonde, you drag your soft fingertips over the slit on his bulbous cockhead— rubbing a thumb through it a little more confidently when he exhales deep through his nose and his tip lip twitches upward, his eyes fluttering shut. “shuddap, kirishima,” he snarls, though the insides of his mouth are coated with a quiet moan just for you. “feels good baby, such a tease. you gonna keep playin’ with me or are ya gonna get me off like the good lil’girl i know you can be?” 

the air of nonchalance about him, despite how bakugou throbs in your hold, has your stomach in desire laced knots— an innate urge to make him feel good taking over you. “fuck that’s good,” he mumbles, opening one eye to look at you, a carnal lechery simmering between the flecks in them as you slowly start to flick your wrist and jerk him off. you smile to yourself after spitting down onto his dick, watching it bob in response before the frothy mixture disappears into his pre that helps guide your hand up and down his shaft.

“awh, come now gorgeous,” kirishima sighs darkly from your other side— again using a soft touch, which contrasts starkly with his rough hands, to pull your focus onto him by cupping your chin. “can’t let the two of you have all the fun. i want some attention too,” 

eijirou makes you watch as he fiddles with his belt buckle to get to his own length— he doesn’t kiss you like you want him to, holding it against you until his girth is free, pinkish tip bleeding with milky arousal as he stands tall and proud, smearing precum against his shirt that covers his tummy. the redhead is cruel as he brushes his lips over yours, goading you, coaxing you to take a hold of him and give him the same treatment as a blissed out katsuki on your other side.

you fist what you can— tiny fingers barely fitting around the entirety of kirishima… but lewd squelches from both of your hands around two cocks only serves to spur you on, making lust bubble hotly under your skin. you alternate between the two boys, thumbing at katsuki’s slit while you squeeze eijirou, drinking up their moans and the way their hips keen into your touch— giving them attention in different ways. and even with them both a wreck between your sticky fingertips, the duo still find ways to dominate you…make you feel like a treasured fuck toy even though they’ve yet to touch you themselves.

kirishima noses up the side of your neck, as if the very scent of you drives him wild and sucks his claim into your skin, grazing you with the tips of his pointed pearly white teeth. “don’t stop now, angel,” he rasps, the hint of a smirk rippling throughout his voice when your breath hitches at the sultry contact. “keep goin’…makin’ us feel so good,” you can’t help the way your body twitches to follow his command, speeding up your gentle fists around them, both sets of your knuckles coated in stringy opaque. “would…fuck, hate to see what happens if you get too distracted…” 

the redhead’s mouth is back on yours before you can register his shift in movement, tongue dragging over the chapped skin of your lips, twisting around your own. “thas’ right baby, s-shut him up…mmm fuck, feels fuckin’ good,” katsuki slurs, blending his words together messily. he’s red in the face and hot to the touch, fiercely bucking his hips in an attempt to keep up with you jerking him off. the softness of your palm messes drastically with the chemistry of the blonde’s brain— altering it’s levels of dopamine until they’re sky high and katsuki feels as if he’s just high off of wanting you. “y’talk too much red, why can’t ya just moan pretty like her, hah?”

crimson cut and covetous eyes flutter open, drifting over to where you play with kirishima too and bakugou would be lying if he said the sight didn’t make him hornier, the glint of your hands covered in arousal causing him to swallow thickly. eijirou grins against your lips, reluctantly letting you free from his sinful hold to cock his head over at your blonde lover. “katsuki, you’re hard as a rock just from watchin’ me with her, d’ya really need to hear me moan for you too?”

“bet you’d sound like a pretty lil’ bitch too.”

“alright,” kirishima hums, finding your mouth again and hisses into it— as if relieved to be making out with you once more. this time he presses his fingers between your thighs, prying them open with a growl when you resist a little. “c’mon sweet thing, lets put on a show f’him, yeah?” the biology of your body tells you that you have no choice, blindly following his domineering lead and falling in tune with eijirou as he guides you into lifting your hips and tears off your skirt and panties in one go. “yeah that's it… you’re so cute, doll, moan a little, tell us who’s makin’ you feel good…”

at first, he spreads your swollen pussy lips apart to give your other lover a nice, nasty view of your juices that slide between them— his eyes goad you, tell you what to do as you quiver and the pad of his thumb slips over your budding clit. “k-katsuki! f-fuck!” you cry out, like the song of an angel, at the same time bakugou groans from deep within his chest.

“look at you baby, grindin’ all over red like that, so fuckin’ pretty,” his breath stutters, cock throbbing and spurting pre in your hold.”‘nd what ‘bout you, red? gonna whine like that for me too?”

kirishima only scoffs, spitting onto your dripping mound and watching as the frothy mixture slowly slides between your folds. he’s quick to gather it up before it hits the couch or your ass, dragging his fingers over your hole as if to push the mixture into you. the very feeling makes you jolt, one hand jumping up and into tousled red locks— pulling on them hard to ground yourself during your spiralling desire and neediness. all the while, you never let up on pleasuring eijirou, though your fist tightens around kirishima’s shaft, as if to mimic your fingers clenching down hard on his thick fingers working their way inside of you.

“katsuki!” eijirou quite literally whimpers, the sound high-pitched and breathy— surprising both you and bakugou. 

bakugou hums cruelly, content with the pair of you calling out for him, toying with one another like cute little sluts just for his amusement. “both of ya need me that badly, huh?” he coos, pulling your hand off of his dick to suck your tiny fingers into his mouth. both you and kirishima watch like dazed animals as katsuki cleans you up, moaning hungrily at the taste of himself. “wanna see you play fer a ‘lil longer. eijirou, use your fingers…and you sweetheart,” the blonde recluse leans in real close, the scent of him mingling with the obvious tones of sex in the air clearing your mind of reasonable thought. “touch yourself f’me…”

the repairman at your side wastes no more time, sinking from beside you to his knees on the floor. kirishima swirls his digits over your entrance once more, threading your slick between them with a hearty grouse tainting his lips. “katsuki, he murmurs, looking up at your face from below. “she’s cryin…” and he’s right, silver tears brim in your waterline as eijirou slips a finger into you and immediately curls it against your slippery walls.

katsuki’s latched onto your neck now, marking over wherever kirishima might have with jealousy-rich blood pumping through his heart. “she can cry all she wants, but it better be from pleasure, red. want you makin’ her see fuckin’ stars,” he warms between licking and sucking at your salty skin. 

kirishima marvels at the creamy, viscous mess growing between your thighs— amazed at how wet and tight you are while he pushes another finger in alongside the first. he’s eager to please, to explore you, blunt tips brushing along your most sensitive spots and even landing on your g-spot almost instantly. 

“she takes me so well too, always does. there you go, darlin’… just like that,” you can’t tell who it is that krisihima is talking to you, whether its you, your puffy salacious sex or katsuki who’s mumbling sweet nothings and praises into your ear. but no matter which way you look at it, the desperate lilt to his voice seems to have only one purpose, and that’s to drive you insane. 

bakugou can’t help but laugh in amusement as you fall apart between the two of them— exploding into a million tiny pieces and letting them put you back together. kirishima pumps his fingers in and out clenching hole while the blonde wraps his hand around your wrist and ushers your hand towards your clit. “touch yourself baby, wanna see you fall apart.” he hums, tongue darting out to wet his lips while you slowly trace shapes on your pleasure nub, blossoming for the boys like a spring flower.

“k-kats…e-eji,” you gasp at as the pair of them pick up their pace, bakugou using your hand to smack down on your sticky bud while kirishima bites down on your inner thigh as if its a fresh fruit for the taking. you bruise, soft like a peach, and he’s quick to soothe the pain sprinkled into your bloodstream with a roll of his greedy tongue over the inflamed area. “i can’t…”

“yes, you can.” the redhead grunts menacingly, the carmine in his eyes darkening with bloodlust while your cunt dribbles and drools into the seat of his palm. you’re close, he can practically taste it— salivating at the scent of your honeyed sex. “gonna cum for us, darlin’?”

your body flashes with heat, like you’re being swept up by an inferno and all you can do is nod weakly in reply— gasping for air, desperate for oxygen to fill your lungs instead of the smoky fragrance that the two men exude. “why don’cha let go for us, sweetheart? be messy, wanna fuckin’ see it.” bakugou adds on, tempting you over the edge with sadistic dip to his tone of voice. it’s low, hot against the shell of your ear and you find yourself unable to resist, giving in to katsuki as well as kirishima.

eijirou scissors his fingers one more time, just enough to get you where you need to be, and then you’re cumming— release crashing over you like a vicious wave amidst a raging storm. pleasure pulls you under, and your body is rendered useless between the two beefy men. shaking, writhing and trembling as bakugou slaps down on your pulsating mound to help guide you through the rest of your high.

“fuck…that’s hot,” kirishima comments wistfully, watching your orgasm trickle down his thick fingers, soaking your thighs. “i gotta…wanna…taste—“

a hand on his forehead pushes the thirsty redhead back, his blonde counterpart snarling in warning. “nuh-uh. s’my turn, shitty hair.”

the next few moments are a whirlwind, your mind still spinning and still heavy from cummings just seconds ago. you’re lifted into a pair of well-built arms, your face tucked into a sturdy chest and you’re not far gone to know who is who. footsteps trek along the creaky floorboards of your childhood home, and you’re familiar enough with the sound to know where you’re headed.

the bedroom.

when you finally come to, eyes fluttering open— bakugou is lying fully naked on his back at the head of your bed, his expression almost as needy as kirishima’s was earlier. “crawl t’me, baby, come sit on my face.” he purrs, chest rising up and down with ragged breaths as the vines of fervour have wrapped themselves around each of his ribs, taking root deep in his lungs.

before you have a chance to respond, kirishima ( who had been holding you this entire time ), unceremoniously tosses you onto the bed to join the blonde— nodding his head over to him. “go ahead, be a good girl for us.” 

you make your way up the sheets, tossing off your top and shuddering as your now bare skin brushes up against the heat of katsuki’s. he welcomes you with a dirty, uncoordinated kiss before guiding you up to and over his face with a pair of rough palms on the globes of your ass. grabbing the headboard, you take a peek down at the ravenous man beneath you, nervousness flickering over your sweat-licked features.

“what’cha waitin’ for, sweetheart?” he mumbles, squeezing your flesh between his fingers in encouragement. “y’don’t think i can take it?”

shaking your head, your lips part in protest. “n-no, ‘m just—“

“sit on him,” eijirou barks at you like its an order, looking up from stripping himself of the rest of his clothes. “he can handle it.”

it amuses bakugou, how thin the other man’s patience has worn and he nips at your inner thighs to test the waters. “you heard shitty hair. sit.” neither of them give you much choice after that, katsuki wrapping his arms around your waist to drag you down onto his awaiting mouth. the entirety of his tongue presses flat against your slit, sucking the juices from them as he groans— sending vibrations straight up to your clit. “god…kirishima, she’s so fucking wet down here.”

“yeah?” kirishima responds huskily, kneeling on the bed behind you both just as you start to roll your hips back and forth across the blonde’s eager mouth. “how does she taste, kats?” the bed dips underneath his weight, with eijirou swooping down between katsuki’s thighs this time, instead of yours. “is she sweet? i wouldn’t know… you wouldn’t let me…”

his words taper off, drowned out by his own gagging as bakugou bucks into the heat of his mouth in surprise. “thas’ a cheap shot, red.” he damn near howls, stuttering as he traces the tip of his tongue over your slit, spelling out his own name and slurping on your lower lips. “fuck thats it… quit yer talkin’ and use that mouth on me.” when kirshima licks, bakugou sucks and each time, a symphony of salacious moans bouncing off the bedroom walls.  katsuki alternates the pressure of his tongue against your clit, dragging the tip of it around the hood of the tiny nub in lazy circles before he forces it past your entrance as far as he can go. 

high pitched moans that burst through the saliva-slicked seams of your lips mingle with eijirou’s gargles from deep throating katsuki, bobbing his head up and down in a steady rhythm before he uses an arm to pin the blonde’s hips to the sheets below. “j-jesus, bakugou,” he pulls off of him with a layer of precum coating his tongue, aggressively spitting it down onto katsuki’s seedy cockhead and making it shine. “you tryna choke me t’death or somethin’?”

“w-what? can’t handle it red?” even katsuki struggles to get his words out, ruby framed eyes disappearing into the depths of his skull between the feeling of eijirou pressing their cocks together and you, gushing all over his lips and chin, glazing in him in your arousal. “thought you were a big boy, thought you could— mmph!”

“shut up,” you wail, tears threatening to spill once more as you force your hips down on the blonde’s face and muffle his speech— ecstasy rolls off of your body in waves, hypnotising the two men who’ve only come together to make you feel good and reach high heavens. “both of you talk too much… i wanna cum.” you gasp out, katsuki’s tongue now wrigglingly against your ribbed walls, making the knot in your lower stomach twist and twist until your insides burn with pleasure. “want us to cum, together.”

chuckling from behind you, kirishima makes a fist around both his and bakugou’s sopping lengths— creating a makeshift fleshlight for the both of them to fuck into. he alternates his grip to mimic the clenching of your raw, puffy mound and his grin broadens against the bare skin of your shoulder blade, causing goosebumps to rise across the expanse of it. “i don’t think you’re in the position to be makin’ any demands, gorgeous,” he coos, slowing down his words as if to dumb them down for you. after all, the way katsuki sucks on your pussy, languidly rolls his tongue between your folds is rendering you thoughtless. your only feedback being made up of pitiful mewls. “but i think your little friend here wants to cum too. and i, for one…well, ‘m hardly holdin’ back here.”

calculatedly, eijirou shushes a thumb through katsuki’s milky slit— spreading the beading precum across both of their cockheads. this earns you the vibrations of katsuki’s whine against your juicy pussy, and the stimulating sound of the redhead’s breath faltering. all you can do is take what your boys give you, the heat of your bodies slotted together sending your internal temperature off the charts. all you can hear is the wet slap of kirishima’s hand has he jerks himself off along with bakugou, their crude mix of frothy white arousal slinging about the place.

they’re a mess, but you’re in no better state than your lovers. the ones that pull you apart with every suck, bite and pinch as you choke or heave and piece you back together just by moaning your name. your body cries out for another orgasm, bakugou switching between leaving lovebites on your inner thighs and nipping at your clit while you tug on his hair— harder and harder each time. your legs shake either side of his head, every drag of his pink muscle in and out of you, fucking you as if it were his cock— drags you closer towards cloud nine. it’s so close you can almost touch it.

katsuki’s hips rut up to meet the slide of eijirou’s cock back and forth against his own, his bright red and almost sore cockhead catching on the thickened blue veins that wrap around kirishima’s shaft. the repairman throws his head back, pearls of sweat dripping from his forehead and running from it, down his throat and right over his adam’s apple. 

you jerk as that same and familiar feeling from earlier begins to simmer in your lower tummy, threatening to bubble over like a pot on a stove if you’re touched just right. you whinge and sniffle the closer you get, one hand raking through katsuki’s sweaty blonde locks and the other bracing your weight on the headboard as you throw your hips and sopping cunt down against his soaked face. “‘m gonna…oh god! think ‘m gonna—!”

connected by a heavy string of your clear, syrupy nectar that flows in streams from your gooey insides— bakugou pulls off of you with a lewd pop, panting for air. “she’s gonna cum, kirishima,” he mewls, lapping at you like a kitten. “wanna…fuckin’ cum with her too.”

“don’ worry, i’m…shit. ‘m right there with you guys,” eijirou sobs, biting down hard on his lip to suppress his pathetic squeaks, flicking his wrist faster, clumsier around their viscid and creamy cocks— desperate to get them both to the edge. “k-katsuki, b-baby!” the redhead chokes on the moan of your name, his orgasm hitting him first as his hot white seed spills over katsuki’s thighs and shaft. the blonde follows suit, back arching off the bed along with his hips as his potent load shoots up your back and adds to the mess.

he groans deep into your cunt, crying out your name as well, weakly. “oh fuck! fuck yeah…”

your orgasm breaks you.

blood rushes through your ears and static crackles across your brain— all that tension, all that ecstasy that’s been building up is finally released. your juices splash out against katsuki’s face, who gulps everything you give him down— three fingers on your clit, rubbing you in tight circles to coax you all the way through. colour dances behind your eyes and you squeal, and shake— collapsing back into kirishima’s plush chest as he catches you before you fall.

you watch contentedly and with hooded eyes, after rolling onto your side ( once again stuck in the middle of your boys ), as they reach over you to share the sweet, candied flavour of you in a kiss. bakugou’s tongue dominates kirishima’s, pushing into the hot cavern of his mouth in a nasty, hungry exchange— riling one another up even though you’ve all just cum. they turn to you next, with rose tinted cheeks and heart shaped pupils to pull you into the kiss as well. ensuring that you get a taste of yourself too. 

now, with the three of you catching your breath against solid sheets, you find yourself calming a bit— letting eijirou trace affectionate patterns into your left side, katsuki beginning to mumble praises to you on your right. “did so fuckin’ well for us, sweetheart, you okay to keep goin’? you came fuckin’ hard.” he’s teasing, you can tell, a bright and lazy smile on his face as he watches over you— the only hint of concern you detect being hidden behind the brownish flecks in his eyes.

“i-i think i can go again, if you both want to,” you say bashfully, pressing a soft kiss to bakugou’s cheek before rolling over to give kirishima the same treatment. “i-i like having both of you fuck me.”

kirishimma laughs fondly, his dick twitching against your side just as katsuku’s does. “is that so?” he inquires coyly, rough fingertips dancing over your slick thighs while he locks eyes with his blonde counterpart— as if to send him a message. “i think we can manage a double stuffin’, since y’want both of us, right?”

“d-double stuffing?” you breathe, brain lagging as you process the words.

the sound of moving fabric does nothing to cover the sound of your heart hammering against your ribcage at redhead’s suggestion, bakugou already shifting to get into position— lifting your thigh and grinding his half hard erection against the wetness of your cunt. “i mean, that’s what yer after, no?’ he chimes in, licking his lips and looking down at you as if you’re nothing but a hunk of prey. “to have both of our cocks, fillin’ ya up’ta the brim. pluggin’ you full.”

“y-yeah…i do,” is all you can respond with, especially with the newer friction from kirishima sliding his cock against katsukis over your pulsating pussy. you gladly bask in their attention. “oh god, i do. i want it so bad.”

someone speaks, but as lust tremors through you like the aftershock of an earthquake, you cant seem to tell who. “then say please.” the voice utters.

“p-please! fucking, please!” you comply, desperate.

“atta fuckin’ girl.” rasps the other voice.

kirishima hooks your knee over the bend of his arm and you end up back to chest with him while bakugou takes you into his arms so that you’re chest to chest for better positioning. his caramel skin is hot to the touch like molten sugar, comforting even when you become hyper-aware of eijirou’s cockhead pressing against your entrance— groaning as he tries to ease past your tightness. 

your nails form reddish crescent moons along katsuki’s biscep as you clutch onto him for dear life, still adapting to the stretch of the redhead behind you as he pushes deeper into your fluttering cunt slowly. “easy red, don’t want you hurtin’ her,” bakugou is gruff with his words and settleshis large and worn down palms on your waist, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your lower back to distract you from the burn between your ruined thighs. 

“i know what she can take, bakugou,” eijirou snaps back, staggering for breath but stops his hips in order to give you time to adjust. “j-just lemme know when i can move, kay baby?” he’s only got the tip in, your hole stinging only just as it resists his intrusion. the slight twinge of pain is enough to bring a fresh set of tears to your eyes but feels significantly better than it hurts.

“s’okay kiri, keep goin’,” you croak and lean forward, too needy to think and capture bakugou’s lips in a chaste kiss. you shiver at the taste of yourself and kirishima’s lip balm on him too. the display of affection is aimless, going nowhere except for consoling you the more kirishima thrusts into you.

a broken moan reverberates between the three of you, planted firmly against the blonde’s lips when your red haired partner finally bottoms out, snug against your slick walls. “shit darlin’…you’re so fucking wet ‘n hot ‘n tight,” he groans, fidgeting against your back. “have i not fucked you enough? poor thing.”

you respond with a sweet little mewl, near purring at the feeling of kirishima’s girth sitting heavy inside of you— practically in your guts even though he’s only shallowly thrusting into you. he whimpers against your shoulder, his grip bruising against your thigh to the point where you’re sure you’ll have handprints on it tomorrow. “kirishima, ya idiot, did’ya put a condom on?” bakugou fumbles for your clit again, tracing his initials over it as if the added stimulation will help. 

“no…you really gonna make me pull out?” he whines like a petulant child.

“s’okay, i just wanna…i need you. both of you.” you plead and cling to him, eyes wide and glittering— pushing back on kirishima and forth on the blonde’s fingers for some friction and some form of pleasure.

the repairman languidly juts his hips forward, smearing his new wave of precum along your ribbed walls, the sound of your laments and simpers syncing up with kirisima’s makes bakugou relent. “fine. but you better pull out before y’get close…” katsuki lets out a hiss, just as his counterpart grabs at his shaft and circles it around your stretched entrance where you and kirishima meet, a mix of your arousals making it easier for bakugou to slip right in. “damn…she’s so cute, y’gotta let me in baby, ease up…”

your body follows his command, relaxing as you slump between the two boys— mind too numbed and dumbed by the pair and their leaky cocks. you can barely move, only jolting with them whenever their dicks brush against each other inside of you. “move katsuki, wanna give her the fuckin’ that she needs.” kirishima pouts, losing his patience again.

the entire world spins, barely preparing you for the feeling of both boys thrusting into you at the same time. everything is so tight, vulgar and souse— neither of them wasting any time in pounding you to hell and back and the bed cries out under the intense and sudden movement, though it isn't any louder than you. when kirishima throws the weight of hips into you from behind, fucking you without thinking, bakugou pushes you back with his own passionate lunges of his hips too. as if they’re fighting for ownership of your spasming cunt. 

you soak their dicks in your honeyed nectar as they pump into you, and bakugou grabs at your waist roughly to stop you from writhing about the place. he quietens his moans with love bites and kisses across your skin, your throat— pulling you down onto his rock hard cock. they stretch you for all your worth, bathing in the essence that you give them all while sharing sloppy kisses from over your shoulder.

its not like you haven’t slept with either one of them before. you’ve spent plenty of nights with your fingers stuffed deep into your needy sex, trying to pleasure yourself to the memory of your first time with bakugou and just as many nights bouncing away on kirishima’s length— filling the void with a melody of your mixed moans. but this is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. being double stuffed by two brawny and beefy men has you losing your very last shreds of sanity with each hard rut into your drenched, convulsing cunt. bright red and lacteal tips brush up against your g spot at the same time, doubling down on the dopamine and rapture tingling in your bloodstream. 

poor eijirou sniffles, cries at how good your pussy grips him as he hits it from the back— his arousal and your juices tangling in his happy trail and slinging between your ass cheeks, glossing you up with a layer of sin. from behind, his palm snakes around your throat, giving it a light squeeze and restricting airflow into your lungs and to your brains. only serving to make you dizzier, easier to fuck. 

on your other side, katsuki drops his grip to play with the cute bubbly flesh of your ass— spreading it apart so he can force himself deeper against your gushing, gummy insides. the further he spreads you, the more of your scent fills the air, accompanied by timbre groans and heavy pants. clear, thick liquid seeps out from between your folds and against katsuki’s tummy which lubes up your tangled limbs. “sweet fuckin’ girl, you feel so good. basically milkin’ us dry,” the blonde praises though his tone is slightly patronising, barely surfacing through his husky sighs. “you like that?” he adds, slowing the roll of his hips to grind up into you, making kirishima growl and you squeak.

“he’s talkin’ to you sweetheart, y’got an answer for him?” the redhead teases, shifting his hand to grab at your tear stained baby fat cheeks to turn your face to him. his chest bristles against your back in entertained laughter, pride dancing in his bright red eyes. “oh poor baby… what’s the matter, huh? you been fucked dumb? too full? god, look at her katsuki. a fuckin’ mess.” he continues to mock you over the sound of skin slapping harshly on skin, nipping at one of your wet cheeks. they cream warmly inside you, backs arching whenever their sensitive cocks brush against one another during your nasty double stuffing.

“don’t be fuckin’ mean eijirou,” bakugou coos to you softly, contrasting to his usual personality and with kirishima’s brashness as they take turns in ravaging you. “she just wants t’cum. don’t worry, angel, we’ll get’cha there.”

“p-please, just wanna be fucked, want all of you. harder katsuki, more eiji.” you beg, tripping over your words as they’re punctuated by your pleasure filled gasps. what you want, they give to you. balls clapping against your ass and your cunt.

the three of you make the trek up to cloud nine, just touching the gates of heaven. your expression is lewd, eyes rolled back in your skull, lips parted and your mouth hanging open— strings of saliva connecting the roof of your mouth to your tongue as it lolls over your bottom lip. bakugou and kirishima press bare down hard on your g-spot, never letting up on it while they angle their hips just right to make you see stars. 

you’re seconds away from erupting, scratching down bakugou’s pecs while reaching behind you to tug on kirishima’s sweaty ruby strands of hair. their hips stutter but still attempt to delve further into your sopping, welcoming heat. “can feel how close you are, doll. clampin’ down on us. gonna make us lose it,” the blonde slurs.

“let go for us, c’mon baby. cum.” kirishima hiccups, working the three of you over the final hurdle— head first into an orgasm.

they pull out of you, as promised, just as you hit your high. your brain fuzzy and cleared of thought as you squirt for the boys, juices tainting their skin. they follow suit, two heavy loads of hot cum soil your thighs, your back and tummy— laying their claim on you for now.

the three of you flop against the ruined sheets, kirishima scoops up the mix of your arousals from the crudeness between you all and holds it to bakugou’s lips. the blonde blinks sleepily but complies, licking the redhead’s digits clean with a satisfied hum. and if you weren’t so fucked out, the view would have made you horny all over again.

“good boy, katsuki,” eijirou smiles, holding down his counterpart’s tongue.

bakugou bites down on his fingers cheekily, brows furrowing once the pink muscle is set free. “fuck you, eijirou.” looking down at you, a quivering cute little mess, and nudges your cheek. “you wanna get cleaned up, sweetheart? or do you wanna sleep.”

“sleep please,”

“‘m down for that. as hot as this was, you guys really wore me out.”

“yeah, yeah. settle down then red. let her sleep, alright?”

bakugou rolls his eyes, unimpressed, but smiling softly and throws an arm over you and the taller man in some form of a hug. completely blissed out, the three of you drift off into a deep slumber.

when you finally come to, one side of the bed is cold and the other warm from where a familiar figure has wrapped themselves around you. like a boa constrictor might do with its own prey.

“hey sleepin’ beauty,” eijirou greets you fondly, brushing a thumb over your pudgy cheek to gently coax you awake. “c’mon, katsuki said i had t’get you to go pee as soon as you woke up. don’t want you gettin’ sick.”

groaning, you rub the crusts of sleep from your eyes and stretch your limbs, sore from the countless rounds of sex earlier. “where is katsuki, anyways?” you mumble back, still drowsy, still clinging to the big muscular repair man in your bed. 

“shower, he woke up first ‘n said he felt gross. try not to miss him too much, darlin’, you have me to keep you company.” he explains as if the two were never at each other’s throats, sinking back into the linens with you and squeezing you close to his chest. you think you could get used to this, the domesticity of it all if the boys can get along well enough, at least for your sake. maybe katsuki wouldn’t have to leave whiteridge, maybe you wouldn't have to leave and the three of you could be like this, together. 

maybe you could help one another grieve in a healthy space. all together, as the found family izuku left you to be.

perhaps, this is the love that you’d been missing. deprived of.

you peer up at kirishima as he cradles you into the molten hot centre of his chest, sitting up with you in his arms slightly. even after everything you’ve been through you think that he’s beautiful, somewhat of a guardian angel to you and you can’t seem to fight the words trapped under your tongue. “eijirou i think i—“ love you. is what you want to say, but those butterflies carrying adoration start to go up in flames. they die under the wave of anxiety that crash over them. crash over you. 

you change your words with your changing mood. “eijirou, what’s that?”

the redhead had been playing with your fingers above the duvet, allowing you to catch a glimpse of his inner wrist. “hm? what’s what, darlin’?” 

there’s a mark embedded into his skin, familiar to you but you can’t quite put your finger on it. you wrack your brain, dash through your memories trying to place the little heart and match it up to what you know. 

izuku comes to mind again, but not pleasantly. he had the same friendship mark, the same blood bond on his inner wrist. you remember it from the files in the autopsy report. they’re practically a perfect match. grabbing the repairman's arm, you inspect it closely, brushing your fingers over the symbol. “izuku. he had one of these…” you whisper. 

“don’t be silly, i’ve had this for years and—“ 

“no.” you retort roughly, springing up from the bed and throwing on the nearest shirt. you ruffle through the papers on your desk until you find the report— frantically tearing out the photographic evidence and shoving it into eijirou’s face. “there’s no way you have the same intricately designed mark in the same place, faded like that. its not just some coincidence—“

panic starts to take over you, your brain running a mile a minute as you try to figure out the biggest question you have. why? 

“baby. calm down. you’re being hysterical.” kirishima says in an attempt to bring you back you down, but he looks tense— scared. he knows what he's said is wrong, highly aware of the minefield he’s just stepped on.

“don’t you dare call me crazy, eijirou. you’ve done it before and i won’t let you do it again.” you growl, protecting yourself from any sensual lies he may try to feed you. “tell me the truth or so help me i’ll scream. when and how did you get that mark?”

bakugou resurfaces from the bathroom, sweatpants low on his hips while he confusedly towel dries his hair. “what’s goin’ on in here? why are you screaming?”

this time, you yank at the blonde’s arm to get a good look at his wrist too— right after you whirl around to face him. you’re sure you look crazed and you don’t have the time to dwell on the fact that he’s still wet, the water droplets on his skin sinking through your clothes. “you…you have it too,” its like a shock to your system. the fact that all three of them have the exact same mark printed against their skin. 

you back away from katsuki, distance yourself from eijirou and tremble right in the middle of the bedroom. your head pounds as you try to figure out the possibilities and put the timeline together. bakugou looks between you and kirishima in confusion, and you watch as his face crumples upon making eye contact with your other lover.

“did…did he tell ya?” katsuki asks hesitantly, frowning deeper when you flinch as he steps towards you.

“t-tell me what?” you breathe out shakily, stomach dropping as katsuki confirms your suspicions. they’ve been hiding something from you. “no one tells me anything in this goddamn place! k-kirishima says i’m crazy, you can hardly look at me when i ask for the truth. i just want to know why you both have the same mark as izuku got on the day he died, why you were with him, why you won’t tell me shit!”

the room falls silent and all the air in it becomes replaced with a tension so thick you’re sure that not even the sharpest tool in the shed could cut through it. eijirou stands up from the bed this time, reaching out for you but you glare at him in warning to stay away. “let’s all just take a breather,” he proposes nervously and holds his hands out in deference. “you’ve had a long night doll, you gotta rest up—“

your face twists in disgust, hardly believing that kirishima would use the fact that the three of you had just had sex as an excuse to deny you the truth. “why do you keep denying me? why won’t you be honest with me?”

why. why. why.

katsuki makes a pained noise, mouth opening and closing as he debates his next words. he says your name welty and remorsefully. “because…we love you too much to hurt you.”

“katsuki.” eijirou says in warning, though he doesn’t rebuke the confession. they love you, they love you enough to lie to you. “don’t.”

“why not?” you fight back, even though you feel like you’re losing the battle already. “i know something went on between the two of you, i know now that my mother wasn’t crazy trying to find out either.” emotions rush through you all at once— guilt, anger, sadness. everything you thought you’d pushed away since leaving whiteridge coming right back to the forefront of your mind— brought forth by the last people you thought would ever hurt you. “if either of you cared about me like you say you do. love me like bakugou says—“

stepping forward and almost crossing your boundary, the redhead cuts you off, his throat dry and eyes wild. “we do!” he exclaims, trying his best to be convincing. “we do love you. i always have, you know that.” he says your name once and for some reason it feels like a punch to the gut, a betrayal to even utter the syllables after lying to you. “y’gotta believe me when i say it…”

“then let me put them to rest, kirishima! stop dodging my questions and being vague. quit gaslighting me into thinking there’s nothing fucked up about what’s going on here!” you argue, not even bothering to stop the flow of tears that fall freely from your glossy eyes. “i just want my mom and izuku to have their peace…and you’re not letting me do that.”

that seems to break something in katsuki. you can almost hear his heart break when he looks at you, like he’s been dying to say it all from the start. if just push a little more, he might crack, if you try a little harder, he might open up to you like you need him too. so you plead with him, try to appeal to the softer side you know exists within katsuki bakugou— hold that metaphorical hand out to him like he’d done for you at your brother’s grave some weeks ago.

“please,” you choke back a sob, not caring if you look insane or if you’re a snotty and teary eyed mess. “i deserve to know. i need to know, and if you have any sense of love for me, you’ll tell me what happened to izuku that day.”

“it was an accident,” he starts slowly, voice raw. bakugou looks like he’s hurting, taken a bullet to the chest as he bleeds his truth out for you. “we…we didn’t mean for it to happen.”

“katsuki, shut up!” 

“kirishima let him talk—“

“—god damn it, eijirou!” spinning on his heel, katsuki directs his frustrations at the latter— seething through his heartache. “quit playin’ around! she deserves to know…t’know what we did.”

kirishima’s lips form a thin line, expression solemn as he visibly gives up— stops building up his happy go lucky wall that keeps you on the outside of it all. it could have been his way of protecting you, like he had said but no matter what side of the card kirishima showed you, you knew in this moment, knew that somewhere in the back of your mind you couldn’t trust him. not anymore. not even if your heart wanted to. 

“it really was an accident,” he croaks after some time, his words punctuated by bakugou’s heavy breathing. “we were with deku that day too, just the three of us. like we always were. y’couldn't separate us back then…even if you tried.” kirishima is wistful as he speaks, almost as if that fateful day was a good one for him. he looks as though he can feel the sunshine on his cheeks and the fresh air in his lungs, hear izuku’s laughter accompanied by the sway of the canopy up above their youthful heads. “katsuki had given us the marking… they were stick ‘n poke tattoos, he stole the kit from the convenience store, you remember that kats?”

bakugou nods his head, but doesn’t dare look at you— aware of the fact that if he does, he’ll shatter like glass under the weight of his own guilt. “i r’member. you cried like a bitch when i got yours. deku…” he laughs, but it’s heartless and cold before he corrects himself. “deku took his like a champ. he was brave like that, the bravest out of all of us.” 

hearing them talk about your brother so softly makes you feel both sick and, in a weird way, happy at the same time. just knowing that even in his final hours he acted the same way as he always did— just like your izuku. “how did you guys end up by the lake?” you prompt. “what about his ankle? the picture my mom had of you guys?” 

the redhead rolls his shoulders, tense as he recalls the story to you. “we weren’t s’pposed to be that at the lake.” 

“w-what?” 

“we were only going for a hike, to izuku’s favourite spot— i swear we were just kids— just being fuckin’ stupid,” bakugou seems more panicked now, as if the memories were too anxiety inducing for even him to bare. “o-on the way up he tripped, i’d been messin’ with him ‘n made deku trip on a fuckin’ rock of all things.”

a rock? that would have explained how your brother had broken his ankle— the thought of his bone crunching makes your skin crawl, imagining his beautiful freckled face twisting in agony only pisses you off. you’re across the room before you can register, gripping him by the shoulders and shaking him. 

“what for? why did you touch him?” 

he’s never seen you so vicious, like a rabid dog pushing the bulking blonde back against the wall. and he lets you, barely putting up a fight. “i-i…” he stutters. 

“it’s because he liked you and deku didn’t approve.” it’s kirishima who confesses this to you and you stop your attack on bakugou to listen attentively— holding back despite your trembles. you hadn’t known the blonde back then, but you remember spots of him in your life. how he’d be kind to you when izuku wasn’t around, how he looked out for you behind the scenes. it hadn’t occurred to you that he might have liked you the way eijirou did, you’d hardly known each other after all. his lack of deku’s approval could been foresight, knowing what all comes next. “bakugou wanted to turn back after it happened, but midoriya insisted on getting to the clearin’ so we carried him up…he wanted to camp out ‘n see the stars that night.” 

“we found the lake by accident tryna find somewhere t’rest before we got there. we stopped and…” kirishima trails off, swallowing thickly and an awful feeling swirls around in your lower tummy. like that feeling you get just before you’re jump-scared while watching a horror movie. you’re stomach drops, your pupils dilate— air becomes scarce to you. 

this is the plot twist, the truth your mother died without knowing. 

“it was an accident,” eijirou repeats the same mantra from earlier, sounding as if he's about to burst into tears. 

“so you’ve said,” you say, voice devoid of any emotion as you wait for the big reveal, for the ball to drop. “what happened, eijirou?” 

“he pushed him.” 

ice runs through your veins— freezing your beating heart in its place as your gaze trails back up to katsuki’s face. he catches you as you stumble and the world starts to spin as if you’ve been thrown on an unstable rollercoaster. “pushed him…right over the edge. ‘cause deku said he weren’t brave enough for you.” bakugou mumbles, plainly— though the rubies in his red eyes are shattered with grief. 

it was stupid. the dumbest thing you’d ever heard— your older brother, the only person who’d ever truly loved you shoved over the edge of a fucking river bank over you. you who didn’t know the two men before you had loved you too. you were the reason eijirou kirishima had let him drown. you were the reason eijirou kirishima had pushed him to his death. 

“t-that doesn’t…that doesn’t make sense!” you try, clutching at your chest because you feel like you can’t breathe no matter how hard you try. something as simple as taking in oxygen and letting out carbon dioxide becomes a chore, eyes darting everywhere around the room only to settle on the man who took your world away from you. “izuku can swim. he could swim!” 

kirishima hiccups, doesn’t dare to move or touch you— knowing that you’ll lash out or tear him apart. “i didn’t mean it, i-i swear, if i could take it back i would have—!” 

“why didn’t you go in after him? why didn’t you save him?” you scream this time, realising the gravity of the situation. realising that izuku, like you now, in his last moments couldn’t breathe. how he’d slipped under the surface of water that’s meant to give life and instead had it taken away from him. he’d been cold, he’d been in pain— suffocating and neither of these men had gone in after him. how could they have possibly claimed to love you after all of this. “you…you murderer!”

even though your knees are weak and wobble, you follow your fit of rage and toss yourself in the redhead’s direction with the intent to kill— probably no better than him. bakugou circles his strong arms around your waist even though you kick and scream and cry, scratching at him until you draw blood. 

“we thought he’d come back up!” the blonde whimpers.

breaking free, you look at bakugou incredulously— like a wild animal in fear and you might as well be. you have no idea what these men are capable of almost a decade and a half later. you sniff, your eyes lined with red and liquid silver tears. “why didn’t you get help?” comes your choked out question.

“we were kids… we thought if we just went home…it’d all be over. that it’d never happened. what else could we have done?” eijirou warbles wetly. you don’t know how he can sit there after all this time and have the audacity cry. how either of them can act like they hid this from you out of love. love isn’t playing mind games or dragging you through rounds of mental gymnastics. love isn’t pushing the person you care for to the brink of insanity.

they don’t love you. 

only izuku was capable of that, it seems. 

“you could have helped him.” you utter quietly— as cold as the thick shards of ice once again guarding your heart. your next movements are quick, have you running on adrenaline and that same desire to escape this town from years ago. you grab what you can, the important stuff— clothes, your laptop and any notes, your mother’s pictures and something to remember izuku by before making a dash for your car. your second great escape. 

the men that you thought you could call your lovers are quick to follow you— calling out your name hopelessly through the loveless walls of your childhood home. every bad memory you thought you’d replaced here turns sour, every second you’d spent between them with katsuki and eijirou garners a visceral reaction from you. you can’t stand to hear their voices anymore, to think about how close you had allowed yourself to be with them. you’d been vulnerable, let them see the deepest parts of you that you’d kept safeguarded for years only to have it shown to the wrong people. 

to have everything thrown back into your face.

defeated tears burn at your tired eyes as you reach your car— fighting with its handle to get inside. you’d never given so much of yourself to other people before, only to find out they were the ones who’d hurt izuku. it breaks you, in the worst of ways— as if someone had taken the delicate vase of your heart and thrown it at a wall. you’re cut by the shards, worn down beyond repair. there’s no coming back from this, to this horrible place. 

“baby…baby please don’t go.” katsuki tells to you as he rushes down from the porch to meet you with eijirou in tow. despair dulls his once beautiful vermillion eyes, but just looking into them hurts you. you can’t trust what they say anymore. “we…we never fuckin’ meant for any of this to happen. to hurt’cha like this. please don’t go. let us make this right. give us a chance. just one—“

“just don’t go to the police.” kirishima cuts bakugou off once they’re fully by your sides, desperation clinging to his voice and ringing out into the night air. “it’ll ruin our lives.”

your actions pause, and you no longer find yourself slipping into your car but instead eerily turning around to face the duo. before you can realise what you’re doing— your hand flies back and lands harshly against the redhead’s cheek, stunning you all into silence. “are you fucking kidding me, kirishima? your lives?” there’s so many years of rage echoing in your voice, a wet tiredness in your face that no one else in the world could possibly relate to right now. his words sting, they fill you with a poison that only blackens your weak heart and you don’t bother to stop the viciousness that spills from your lips next.

“that’s all you can think about? you have no fucking idea what its like to have your life ruined, to live day by day absolutely-fucking-miserable because the only thing…the only person that you lived for, is gone. you don’t know shit about living life or having it ruined.” neither of them think to speak as you rant away, releasing everything you’d ever held back since leaving whiteridge. kirishima clutches his swelling cheek, an expression of regret plastered across his features and bakugou can’t even bare to look at you— gaze focused purely on the dirt beneath his shoes. 

“my brother is dead because of you. he is gone. he’s never ever coming back and it’s all your fault. i hate you. i hate you more than i’ve ever hated anyone in my entire life. both of you.” you spit, slurring over your words, crying the hardest you ever have in all your years of living. you’re still met with nothing, you’re not sure if you even want to hear what they have to say but you keep going, nonetheless. 

“that’s what it feels like to have your life ruined, when there’s no more love left in you. you will never know what that's like…what it’s like to be me. my life, all my hopes and dreams, they were ruined the day you took my brother from me. the day you murdered him.” 

taking a deep breath, you wipe your face on the hem of the shirt you’re wearing and throw yourself into your vehicle, duchess, reviving her up in frustration. kirishima sets his hand on the glass of your window and feebly mumbles your name, bakugou doesn’t budge. you’ve said your piece and now there’s nothing more to it. 

“fuck you. both of you.” you growl as best as you can before pulling out of the driveway and making sure you leave for good. 

you contemplate stopping at the police station, but without their confessions recorded you have as little evidence as your mother did when she fought for the lost life of her son— and you barely have it in you to spend a second longer in this town. god forbid they start calling you crazy too. 

so you drive, you drive through your choked tears and heaving sobs. you drive until you can’t see the sign to whiteridge anymore. you drive until your wrists hurt from holding the steering wheel too tight— and until you feel safe again.

safe like the day you left for the first time, all those years ago. 

your book releases exactly one year and one day from the day you’d left whiteridge for good. 

the loneliness of your luxury apartment deep in the bustling life of the big city had welcomed you back with working heating and open arms— giving you the space to recover from your emotional and mental wounds left on you by two men you thought you could trust. the ones you thought that you could love.

from there, it takes you six months, a shit tonne of black coffee and low-contact with the outside world to fully complete your autobiography. you tell every story you can think of, every lust, every love, every loss and every lie— permanently inking them as your life’s work for the whole world and it’s mother to see. you want anyone who will listen to know your story and know that there’s nothing more the universe could throw at you to mess with you. 

mina receives your full and completed manuscript via email right before she’s due to board a plane with her fiancé hanta sero ( the graphic designer for the cover of all your books, as it turns out ) and both of them drop everything to swing by your place to check that you’re alive and well. you’re far from it, actually. they can most certainly tell by your sunken red lined eyes and your kind-of gross pyjamas that you wear and the litter scattered across your living space— but at that time, neither of them question it. 

sero orders take-out for dinner ( or whatever meal of the day it’s supposed to be ) and ashido cleans up the apartment, before cleaning you up, and together the three of you read through the final transcript. 

of course, she loves it, she holds you when you cry and sero holds her when she cries. they don’t dare to ask you what happened out there, in the small town of whiteridge, its written clear as day in your heartfelt words… but for the first time in your life you feel that people really know you, and genuinely care.

mina gets you the best therapist money can buy after that night.

your book launch comes sooner than expected, and it does better than you expected as well. fans from all over the world sympathise with your story, they mourn the loss of your family right alongside you, they curse the two men you’ve named as ‘red’ and ‘blondie’ and most importantly, they hate the town that hurt you. these days, jirou tells you that almost every establishment in whiteridge has negative reviews on yelp, except for the hotel she runs with momo and denki’s bar right across the street— in fact, both businesses have been skyrocketing since your autobiography hit the shelves.

kirishima calls around that time too. when you answer, the line is full of static crackling over the loud silence and neither of you speak. “finished repairs on your mom’s house today,” he says, floundering for words and time. “think it’ll be up f’sale later this week.”

“thanks, kirishima.”

his breath had hitched at the use of his last name, no sweet pet name, no tone of affection or butterflies in your stomach. “i read your book too.”

“hasn’t everyone?”

“i should have told the truth, i shouldn’t have lied to you,” he goes on, clinging onto one last thread of hope. “then maybe—“

“then what?” you ask slowly, clutching your phone a little tighter. 

“then maybe we could have been something, like we’d always wanted.”

there’s more silence, and then you laugh— brightly, genuinely, rendering the repairman confused on the other end of the phone. “i doin’t think you ever wanted me that badly, eijirou. otherwise, you would have come after me.” you tell him once you catch your breath. “besides, we wouldn’t have worked out anyway.”

“why not?”

“because, even if you’d told me the truth. lying to spare my heart would’ve always been an option to you. you’d never be honest to hurt me and comfort me after— you’re too nice for that. you’d rather not see me hurting at all.” when you explain, he has no answer and your phone beeps signifying another call on another line. “kirishima?”

“maybe… maybe you’re right.”

“i think i am.”

“yeah,” he whispers in harmony with the static. “i guess this is goodbye then.”

“it is,” you whisper back as the beeping gets louder. “goodbye kirishima.”

“goodbye, lil’ midoriya.”

he never apologises after that, and the only time you hear from him is via text regarding the house. bakugou never makes contact with you, and you can’t help but wonder if he even bothered to read your book— that’s if he even knew about it.

according to management, and mina, a book tour was the next and final thing on your agenda before you were allowed a well earned break— the promise of freedom and the time to relax or write something a little less soul-damaging, getting a little closer with each tour stop you make.

“so, when you found out that these two men you’d been falling for had lied to you and hid the truth about your brother, how did you feel? i-i know you talk about it in the book…but i’d gone through something similar a-and i wanted to hear it from you.”

you end up back in the beautiful city you call home for the last tour-stop. the girl who had been asking you the question stands in the very front row, she seems nervous, like she’d been silenced her whole life— and the way she clutches onto your book gives you the impression that she’d found her voice through you. you see your old self in her too.

“well…” you start, carefully folding your hands into the centre of your lap. in the back of the auditorium mina had rented out for the event, the door swings open, and you swallow thickly as it reveals a pair of familiar and daunting red eyes. “well, to be honest… i felt the greatest loss i’d ever felt in my life.” you muse out loud, refocusing your attention to the timid girl in front of you. “you’d think, after everything i’d seen and been through, that i wouldn’t be able to feel anything aside from numbness at that point. i’d spent years of my life trying to fill the hole izuku left…that my mother left too. and to be betrayed like that? well you might as well have cut open my chest and ripped my heart out.”

the audience applauds your monologue, and the girl thanks you sweetly but most of it falls on deaf ears before your next question— those same red eyes locking with yours once again, saying only one thing.

‘i’m sorry.’

after your talk, there’s a two hour book-signing and you don’t expect your unexpected guest to be leaning against the wall, waiting for you outside, once everyone has gone.

“you didn’t want your copy signed?” you ask with a tiny hint of amusement, leaning against the opposite wall to your visitor. “i think i still have some ink in my pen if you do.”

adjusting his cap on his head and holding out his copy to you, bakugou scoffs but mirrors your playfulness with his signature toothy smirk. “don’t do too well with crowded spaces, so i figured i’d wait until after,” your fingers brush only just as you take the book from him and scribble your name across the first page with your dedication to both izuku and your mom on it. “was an amazin’ read, by the way, i loved the endin’— how y’solved yer own mystery ‘n shit. the girls at work loved it.”

looking up from the printed version of the story of your life, you give bakugou a small smile. “mystery and misery do seem to go together.”

“ya still miserable?”

“sometimes,” you admit to the blonde a little too quickly for your liking. “but i have more good days than bad now. what about you? is whiteridge still as shitty as ever?”

“nah,” katsuki hums proudly and matches your smile. it’s nice to see him happy, after to so long— but maybe a part of you is a little glad to see him when you should be hating him. “moved outta that shithole ‘bout six months ago. i live here in the city now, ‘n work in a small family owned restaurant downtown. they serve the best fuckin’ pork katsu you’ll ever have...”

you wrap your arms around yourself, a shiver running through you despite how warm the building is. your mom used to tell you that those random cold shivers were the spirits making their presence known to you— so you think that izuku might be watching right now. “i’ll have to try it someday,” comes your quiet voice.

“you’ hafta lemme take you sometime soon—“

“i don’t mean to be crass, bakugou, but...what are you even doing here?” then the conversation goes quiet.

you’ve come to hate the sound of silence these last few months— no one who knows you, no one who loves you knows what to say to you anymore.

your silences are no longer filled with the click and clack of a keyboard because you no longer have anything to write about, they’re no longer broken up by text chimes or ringtones because you’ve cut off kirishima and he used to call you almost everyday, they’re no longer filled with the laughter you would share from bantering off of bakugou. there’s no one to occupy your silence except for the frenzy of your own mind, because izuku is dead, your mom is dead and it’s just you now. 

but then, bakugou speaks up— rasps through the heavy hushness for you, reaching out for you like he always does. “i-i don’t fuckin’ know,” he begins aimlessly. “i wasn’t even s’pposed t’be here, ‘m meant to be on dinner service tonight but i got an ad fer ya book signin’ on the way over ‘n just…called in sick,'' the world comes to a standstill as he explains himself to you, the blonde is right in front of you but feels a million miles away all at the same time. katsuki looks to the ceiling, as if you’ll be scorched by his gaze. “i had this whole plan in my head, of what i was gonna say t’you when i got the chance, but now that ‘m here…well ‘m.. fuckin’ blankin’!”

“i don’t… i don’t need a long-winded monologue from you, katsuki, i just need to hear you say it and know that you mean it.”  your voice trembles with the threat of crying, tears already forming in your waterline. 

you don’t need much, is what you tell yourself, as bakugou’s mouth opens and closes— formulating the words, finding the right order to put them in. you just need one more ounce of truth. you’ve been given the bare minimum almost all of your life, but this is the highest standard you’ll ever hold someone to. taking accountability for hurting you.

katsuki takes a step towards you, and another more confident one when you don’t move. “‘m sorry,” strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you into his safety net of an embrace, one of his hands cupping the back of your head. “‘m sorry for all the fuckin’ pain i put you through, never wanna see you that hurt ever again.” you melt into him, tears falling freely as bakugou fights back his own. “i stayed away f’too long, tryna figure out if i was worth forgivin’, if i deserved a second chance but i know now… it was never about me. you jus’ needed me to apologise. so ‘m sorry, to you, your mom and to izuku.”

katsuki bakugou says it all, everything you’ve been needing to hear from every adult in your life since you lost your brother— so clutching his shirt tight between your fingers, you pull him into you, letting your eyes bore deep into his own. in the life you’ve lived, you’ve had to learn how to read people, see through their eyes to know what they truly mean and think when they look at you.

but staring into katsuki’s right now, all you can see is the honesty in them— intertwined with the dark brownish flecks that contrast with their rich vermillion colour. he truly means it. 

he’s truly sorry.

and with that, you lean up and press a feather light peck to his lips, feeling him tremble in your hold before hesitantly melting into you— saying the words he needs you to say. 

“i forgive you, katsuki, we both do.”

END.

[hibiscuslovecandles]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 LOVER BOYᯓᡣ𐭩|Twst First Years

Genre:Fluff,crack,AU, GN!Reader Warnings: Smoking weed,Alcohol consumption,Might be ooc this was the first thing i wrote, not proofread, Let me know if there's any warning I missed! Note: I wrote this some time ago lol I'm just trying to get this out my notes

❤️Summer of 2003. The three months where you were sent to the Rose Kingdom to stay with your grandma and aunt because you didn't give them enough calls.

❤️So there you were following around your aunt, grandma, and your grandma's boyfriend around a barbecue because you literally didn't know anybody there due to not having visited since you were like what 11?You're pretty sure the entire neighborhood is present considering the amount of people here.

❤️The same 4 people were going in and out of the gate to the backyard they looked about your age, you could socialize with them but that'd be more work than it's worth, they've probably known eachother for years and have dynamics already so it's probably best not to intrude

❤️Absorbing in the atmosphere of this place filled you with a sense of nostalgia the smell of hotdogs, the fairylights hanging from the porch,the worn down paint of the fence, the chatter of neighborhood drama that you don't understand, the kids around with pixie sticks, the styrofoam cup of cold knock off Coca Cola in your hand, the famous foldable chairs, the fact that you know when you wake up the next day you'll be covered in mosquito bites, all these things brought a warm feeling to your chest. Maybe this summer won't be so bad you thought as you lay in the hammock.

❤️You were so in peace that you didn't hear the sound of the house next doors dog barking.

❤️Almost in a snap of a finger you fell off the hammock hitting the ground when a group of boys jumped over the fence and into the barbecue.One of the boys having knocked you off the hammock during his escape. You only saw the back of the head of the guy who threw you on the grass without even apologizing as you got up. Orange hair.

❤️Two red heads, A young man and a middle aged woman, yelled “ACE” at the orange haired boy but he didn't hear either or them because of adrenaline or he didn't care because he just hopped into the next backyard with his friends following.

❤️The two red heads along with your aunt,granny,and granny's boyfriend hurried over to you and asked if you were alright which you were, No concussion or anything still they were apologetic, The ginger man in the sense that he was trying to be polite and the ginger woman in the sense she was cussing out this Ace kid

❤️The next day while you were in your aunt's office updating your MySpace blog on her computer your grandma called you downstairs where the the three gingers were waiting in the living room with the middle aged woman grumbling, the ginger man looking tired, and the boy that knocked you over looking annoyed that he was being forced by his mom to apologize to you.

❤️And thats how you met your boyfriend.

❤️Not how you got with him though…

❤️You two actually became pretty good acquaintances after that, no real hostility towards eachother, the reason why he was hopping fences was because he was running away from his friends house after his friends dad walked in on them drinking beer….it wasn't even cold beer.

❤️Whenever your grandma would send you to the convenient store to get her some ointment you'd always pass the basketball court on your skateboard and wave to Ace and depending on what he was doing he'd notice and wave back

❤️On your way back to granny after getting her ointment with the money she gave you Ace stopped you and asked you about your skateboard and if you could teach him how to skateboard, considering the fact you had really nothing else to do other than play a singular game on your phone, Update your blog, Listen to your Grandma's weird ass lore, Watch your trash reality television, Deal with your aunt's bitchy complaining, and sit in awkward silence with your grandma's boyfriend,you agreed resulting in you two swapping emails, numbers and MySpace's.

❤️You both made arrangements to meet on Saturdays at the skatepark since he only stays with his mom and brother on the weekends, trying to help him balance on your skateboard but his stubborn ass being persistent that he could do it and didn't need you to hold his hand like a baby... he ate fucking dirt without using you as a rail he was dickhead but in a boyish dirtbag way where it was entertaining enough you didn't completely wanna murder him and still went back to your place and tossed a band aid at him whenever he'd scrap his knee.

❤️Because you're such a excellent teacher he actually got pretty decent at skateboarding and the two of you managed to convince his mom after alot of begging to buy him a skateboard. You helped him decorate the skateboard at his place almost immediately after it was bought and helped him paint and put a punch of stickers on it.

❤️A skateboard with a swirling black and white checkered stair case pattern, a heart at the center with “TRAPPOLA” across it in ransim letters and a bunch of stickers from childhood shows like Scooby-Doo,Rugrats,Pink Panther,etc. It was a fun thing! So fun infact you two still hung out even after he got the handle of skateboarding

❤️You’d let your Granny and aunt know that you were going to the basketball court they knew you were just going there to hang out with Ace since you've never shown any interest in basketball in the past,Your aunt was far more hesitant on letting you hang out with Ace than your Granny considering your first encounter with Ace, while your Grandma just didn't want you to grow up to be a old lonely hag and to be like her so she actively supported the idea of you hanging out with him and for you to stop being single like she used to. You'd just sit on the bench at the basketball court cheering him on and dodge the occasional basketball flung at you.

❤️“This ones for you!" Ace shouted as he pointed at you, going to shoot,….he missed completely causing you laugh your ass off and him flipping you off, just usual banter between the two you, you made it up to him by buying him some Cheetos with your own money at the local convince store. You had a crush on this guy…You don't know if you had a crush on a loser or if you were the loser for having a crush on him all you know is that you liked spending time with him to the point you spent the entire day with him doing dumb shit around the neighborhood. You two had to book it back home once the street lights were on since that meant you two were gonna get fucking yelled at for being out that late

❤️You ended up getting dropped off first and as you hurriedly pulled out the key to your Grandma's baby blue house you felt a pair of lips press against your cheek before running noises you whipped your head to see Ace rushing away. You call out to him “Date on Saturday?” “If I'm not grounded!”

❤️And that's how you got your boyfriend.

❤️When you found out he'd be attending Night Raven College in the fall you were nervous since you two already lived pretty far away from eachother with him being from the Rose Kingdom and you being from Port Jubilee and knowing how things ended with his ex but Ace reassured you that he likes you enough that he'll message you everyday after classes end and that he'll try to get permission to go to your town to go on proper dates.

❤️And he does message you! He updates you on how his school life is going, sends pictures of his friends and a weird cat monster thing, and complains about his housewarden to you.

❤️You managed to get into contact to his friends Deuce and Yuu on MySpace!They were suprised that Ace of all people had someone i mean look at you!You're a beauty then theres just some guy :/ but hey you guys would exchange school drama letting eachother know what was happening at eachothers schools and they'd update you on dumb shit Ace did that he left out of his story on how his housewarden was being “unreasonable”

❤️Missing Ace has got you scrolling through your blog and Ace's looking at photos taken at dates from over the summer and just hitting you with nostalgia like your first date at the arcade and desperately trying to best eachother at DDR, that one date where he tried teaching you basketball, the date at where you swam in the river where your aunt,granny, granny's boyfriend and his mom and brother were present, Oh! Then there was the date where you two just laying on his mom's couch sipping on cold beers his mom forgot to lock up watching COPS on her TV, then that's the photo of the date where the two of you were being a inconvenience to the 7/11 employee by making slushies and filling them up with candy and overall just dicking around that the two of you eventually calmed down from by just laying on your backs on the abandoned train tracks in the woods.God you need this again.

❤️You actually like this guy enough that you have polaroids of him and you not even on dates just doing regular shit like cooking,walking, him playing basketball, skateboarding, flipping eachother off, holding hands, kissing,etc. All of these polaroids you decided to post on your blog in a messy pile resulting in Ace jokingly calling you obsessed with him despite him having taken some of those polaroids, Yuu complimenting the photos and thinking they look cute, Deuce still being confused Ace managed to bag ya know YOU, and some of other Ace's friends like Epel, Jack, and Cater finding you through Ace's friend list on MySpace and seeing your blog post and asking you ALOT of questions

❤️When he visited your place during winter break for a date it was the first time your parents met Ace, the only way they knew about him was through you showing them pictures of him and your aunt and grandma telling them about him. He tried to make a good impression while also trying to add a bit of his own personality mixed in there causing you to cringe and your parents to be even more wary about him. You told Ace to go upstairs while you tried to explain to your parents that Ace is a good guy you swear!

❤️Maybe your parents had a right to be worried…You two smoked weed in the locked bathroom while Ace helped you dye your hair a pretty color with the new Eminem album that Ace brought in his baggy pants playing from your CD player on the toilet lid. You two kept updating eachother on eachothers lives despite you two already knowing what was going on due to the daily messages it was just nice to talk to eachother face to face again that you two were just saying things the other already knew.

❤️It was nice to just hold and kiss eachother on the now wet bathroom floor with Ace simply playing with your hair lovingly staring at you admiring the new color. The open bathroom window not helping with the weed smell, you know damn well your parents are gonna flip at the two of you so you just lean your head against his chest and ask him to stay with you in the bathroom and he agrees, the two of you just dozing off in the tiny cramped bathroom.

❤️You got grounded for the weed and your parents took away your stash and your parents didn't want you to be with Ace anymore…That didn't stop you from sneaking out with Granny as your alibi to continue seeing Ace.

❤️Thats your bitchass boyfriend Ace Trappola.

♠️Middle school in 2001. Your dad is stingy and sends you to a public schools even though he 100% could afford to send you to a private schools but you couldn't care too much since if you went to a private school you wouldn't have your elementary school crush Deuce!You've had a crush on him since first grade but you were too shy to tell him or have your friend send him flowers you picked on the playground during recess!You've never spoken to him but It's the first day of middle school you can't wait to finally talk to him and see him aga-

♠️Hes blond now? Is all you think as you saw him near a group of delinquents at the start of the year assembly staring at him strangely trying to get used to seeing him with blond hair now, this must be a new development since you lived across the street from him and didn't see him with blond hair until now, you didn't know he hung out with that crowd?Maybe it happened over the summer he just didn't seem like the type to hang out either these kind of kids hell he even had a customized jacket so he was in deep.

♠️This was all you and your friend could talk about the first few weeks into middle school, Deuce always seemed like a good kid with his little rabbit lunch box and Spiderman sketchers but now he's in a tween gang, It just was a suprise is all didn't stop you over swooning over him.

♠️Your friend not showing up to school was also new development, you did ask them if something was going on at home or if they were being bullied which they evidently denied and told you not to press them on the topic if you still wanted to be friends so you didn't push for details just letting them know you're there for them….and you may or may not have voiced your concerns to the school counselor. The next day your friend showed up covered in bruises some of which look infected yelling their head off at you in the school hallway you weren't raised to take this so naturally you yell right back at them causing a screaming match between the two of you making the teachers split you two up.

♠️During 3rd period you glanced out the window in the door and see your friend walk into the bathroom with a group of delinquents following behind them, this immediately caught your attention and asked the teacher to head to the bathroom, you walked into the bathroom and saw your friend being pushed head first into one of the bathrom sinks. You immediately stood between your friend and the person who pushed your friend…it was Deuce. You spat hurtful words at him and his eyes softened in guilt for a second before his hands became fists and he punched you in the face with his delinquent buddies behind him cheering but sadly for him your dad didn't raise no bitch and always told you to aim for the throat.

♠️This landed you both in the principal’s office covered in bruises with a snarl painted on your face and a pout on Deuce's with your dad and his mom. His mom trying to apologize to your dad and the principal for the trouble but your dad was still hyping you up and giving you advice for your next fight with someone. Deuce still got 2 weeks suspension and you didn't face any real consequences other than detention so you basically won the fight.

♠️You and Deuce were not allowed to be in the same clasees and the school factually made sure that the two of you didn't run into eachother but since the two of you lived across from eachother glares were exchanged between the two of you but not fights happened after school. Luckily Deuce and his gang stopped picking on your friend after the situation and if they did start doing to again they know damn well you are not afraid to swing.

♠️To say the least you hold grudges. You didn't have a crush on him after the situation.

♠️Not the best first impression from your boyfriend not how you got with him though:/

♠️2004 White Rabbit Festival, You and your friends decided to attend I mean you guys have nothing better to do so might as well go and have fun right?

♠️You greeted Deela,Deuce's mom, at the White Rabbit Delivery booth when you got there despite her asshole son she's a very kind woman you can't believe such a delinquent came from her must've been from his dad's side

♠️You and your friends ran off to dick around other places in the park before deciding to head on over to the folk museum and inside you run into none other than Deuce Spade in full Rabbit get up something you hadn't seen since elementary school,with some people that were presumably friends of him also wearing rabbit themed outfits. It wasn't Deuce's usual delinquent friends you've gotten used to seeing it was a whole new group of friends probably friends he made while at Night Raven College. You noticed that he wasn't blond anymore and went back to his natural hair color of dark navy blue. Your friends all know you hold grudges so when their eyes landed on Deuce they immediately looked at you worried that hands were gonna be flown, their worry elevated when you moved past them and towards Deuce who still hasn't noticed you yet.

♠️What suprised them is that instead of you tackling him to the ground you placed a firm hand on Deuce's shoulder with a bright smile “Hey Deuce buddy it's been awhile!” catching Deuce's attention and his friends. Deuce seemed suprised by your friendliness towards him but replied politely. You were still pissed at him absolutely but you thought it'd be way funnier to mess with him by being overly nice than just side eye him. Which is why your two friend groups ended up spending the entire festival together.

♠️Deela seemed ecstatic that you and Deuce seemed to be getting along which made you feel bad since now that you two spent almost the entire festival together. he seemed pretty decent compared to his middle school years, he's grown and changed and he's trying to be a honors student that's weirdly sweet, you paid close attention to Deuce and paid little attention to Deela,Deuce's friends, or even your friends! You'd only pay attention to Deuce's friends and Deela whenever they'd mention Deuce's name and would genuinely defend him whenever Grim would make a joke at Deuce's expense which would make Deuce flustered and he'd reassure you that everything was fine…Everyone was exchanging knowing glances even Ortho, a robot who can't experience crushes, knew. You even helped Silver with his alarm clock why? Maybe Deuce was rubbing off on you. Your friends were annoyed that you guys were basically hanging out with strangers now but you insisted that it was just to mess with Deuce's head little bit and totally not because you enjoyed spending time with him and like getting to know him as a person

♠️Even though most people don't eat with someone they've had beef with since middle school or share stories from elementary school to his friends and mom that Deuce doesn't even remember and refuse to explain how you knew those things despite only interacting with him in middle school. Epel decided to help Deuce out and nudge him closer to you and try to get Deuce to let some compliments about you slip but Deuce either got confused or flushed which annoyed your friends and Deuce's who know there's some sort of romantic tension going on its just that you two were in denial and your friendgroups were frustrated.

♠️Then a group of delinquents kicked Deela's booth and a bet was placed.

♠️You remember standing next to Deela with your friendgroup being antsy since if Deuce and his friends won the race. the delinquents would have to apologize to Deela if they won or theyd gave to give the delinquents money. You were genuinely worried not for Deuce but for those delinquents! Cauldron Deuce is what they called him in middle school he took on 100 armed guys completely unarmed. Those delinquents don't realize who their messing with. Just as you thought Deuce and his friends managed to run out the maze and won and the delinquents were fearfully forced to apologize.

♠️The sun setting and you said bye to Deela,Your friends,Deuce's friends,and Deuce. You were about to leave until Deuce hugged you…Deuce realizing what he just did leapt off of you and apologized for hugging you….and punching you in 6th grade. He says that he had a crush on you since 3rd grade and that because he became a delinquent he had to fit the mold and that he's sorry and if you two could start over. You hand him your phone and tell him to add his number and ask him if he wants to go on a date some time.

♠️Thats how you got with your boyfriend Deuce

♠️You two would call frequently, mostly from your end since he'd forget due to school work or hanging out with friends. You let Deuce plan your first date over a phone call, You'd come onto his campus and you guys would watch movies together,it was something really simple for a first date!So you didn't dress up too much just a simple outfit.

♠️Deuce was waiting for you by the mirror in a just as casual outfit and the two of you got told what you can and can't do on campus before being allowed to leave the mirror chamber. You kept asking Deuce where he was taking you as the two of you got further and further away from the main building, there's no way they put the dorms this far away from the actual school building right?Your confusion only enhanced when you and Deuce ended up infront of this beat up looking mansion…When the two of you went inside you realize the inside was pretty well furnished didn't mean you weren't worried about falling through the wooden floor. Deuce seemed nervous as he showed you the DVD's you could pick to watch, most of which were Adam Sandler films, you made sure to let Deuce know this was a completely first date and that whatever movie would be nice.

♠️The two of you sat on the beat up black and white striped couch watching a Adam Sandler movie on the dusty old TV, you try to make small talk by commenting on the movie and making jokes but Deuce only laughed and kept his eyes glued forwards, Deuce has been really tense this entire date. Slinging your arm over his shoulders you tell Deuce to loosen up and that the date is going perfectly. Deuce is just blushing at you before nodding firmly and letting his muscles relax. Deuce is engaging with you more now and is opening up more!Who knew Adam Sandler movies were the key to a great date!The two of you are cuddled up together making fun of the characters and their choices as if he wasn't just nervous seconds ago! Nothing can mess this up!

♠️“Deuce what are you doing?” is what comes immediately after the front door creaked open showing Yuu and Grim two people you haven't seen in a hot second. Upon hearing the voice all the color in Deuce's face drained as his turned to look at Yuu and he immediately began to apologize profusely to Yuu leaving you,Grim, and Yuu in confusion in two different ways. You in the sense of “Why are they here?” And them in the “Why are you guys in our home?”. Deuce sensing the confusion from both of you explained that he thought Ramshackle would be the perfect place to hold for the date since compared to the other dorms there wasn't exactly alot of people in Ramshackle to interrupt or disturb your date….still got interrupted. Deuce apologized to all of you and said he understood if you didn't want to continue going out with him after this. You hugged him and just said “This was perfect. Let me pick the next date.”

♠️The second date was also a casual one, you picked a simple mall date, You waited for Deuce at the entrance of the mall for about ten minutes before he came rushing in panting his sweat leading through hisshirt, his hands on his pants trying to catch his breath, Turns out the mirror was further away from the mall than both of you thought and he ran all the way here so you didn't think he flaked on you. That's actually really sweet. For his effort you treated him to some Wendy's in the food court and he insisted on getting you ice cream for you.

♠️You had to initiate hand holding as you guys were walking since Deuce was too scared to hold yours first. When you grabbed his hand everything disappeared for him all his eyes could focus on was your two hands conjoined. He holds your hand a bit tighter as a light blush covers his face a sense of joy washes over him as he stares at the two hands holding eachother.

♠️This date helped the two of you get to know eachother better! When going into FYE the two of you made fun of eachother for the CD’s you guys bought and mocking eachother for the others taste in music sure Britney Spears might be basic but Nelly isn't any less basic Deuce. Deuce was suprised that you wanted to take to your dad's country club for the second date but settled for the mall I mean wouldn't that had been alot for a second date?He's grateful you picked mall.

♠️Deuce and you laughing your asses off in the Yankee Candle at the stupid ass candle names. Who tf wants a bacon candle?You and Deuce apparently because now you this have matching bacon candles.

♠️By the end of the date you walked him back to the mirror and have him a little kiss on the cheek if this was a cartoon his eyes would be hearts and he'd have a comically wobbly smile and you both agreed you'd take turns planning dates and the third date would be his job.

♠️You’re boyfriend is a loser<3

🐺Winter break in 03 visiting your stepmother's family…Kinda sucked when your merfolk visiting a cold place during the coldest time of the year.

🐺Your stepmom practically begged your dad to visit her family during winter break, you and your dad were pretty okay with the idea having visited the place before during the summer, neither of you were ready for how cold it was during winter

🐺It was almost comical how bundled up you and your dad were compared to your stepmother. Sure she was dressed warmly but you and your dad looked like cartoons with the amount of layers you two had on. Sure it was still cold even in the summer but it was more a sweater and windbreaker cold not wearing two winter coats and five sweaters cold!

🐺The moment you guys stepped inside the ski lodge your step family owned you and your dad rushed to the fire place getting a good laugh from the family of deer beastmen.

🐺While you were unpacking in the room that your step family gave you one of them walked into the room and told you since you were family if you wanted to during winter break you could work at the family ski lodge.

🐺The only reason you agreed was because you were broke.

🐺That's how you ended up at the front desk with a gold yellow name tag pinned onto your red work vest.

🐺A older member of the family helped you with the ropes and stayed with you at the front desk the whole day to make sure you got the hang of things. It was pretty simple all you did was check people in, hand them their room key, sell tickets,and answering people questions. It did help that the older member of the family did take care of the more bitchy guests though.

🐺Not the most fun way to spend your winter break but it's better than being broke….and being chased by dolphins…..

🐺Whenever you could you pull out your phone and just mess around by letting your friends know what's up but the older family memeber eventually took your phone away. You would've put up a fight if there wasn't a chance that a guest could walk in at any moment.

🐺While your parents were doing God knows what you were putting on a fake cheery attitude towards every person that would walk towards the desk. Soon you finally got your break.

🐺Instead of doing what people usually do when they get a break, you grabbed a snack, set a timer, and practically booked it to your room to get any amount of sleep at all.

🐺A dream about a fish willingly being eaten by a wolf…Not the weirdest dream you've had.

🐺But that dream was cut short by the alarm piercing your ears letting you know that those 30 minutes of nap time was over!

🐺You rushed out of your room to make it to the desk in time and you made it on time!You just ended up running directly into a guest….

🐺Your older step family member just watched wide eyed as you and the guest you ran into collide eachother, with you being the only one to fall on the ground due to the person you ran into being way more built.

🐺You profusely apologized for ramming into the person before even looking at their face…A wolf beastmen around your age with beautiful brown skin and yellow eyes…

🐺Stop being down bad you're on the job.

🐺He was silent, almost stunned, just silently nodding his head as a way to say he acepted your apology

🐺You insisted on checking in the boy and his family and they agreed just laughing off your little run in with their oldest son though during the check in process you could feel your older step family member practically burning holes into the side of your head. You were gonna get a earful later this for sure.

🐺When the family of five walked off with their room key to the elevator you swear you could've sworn that guests tail wagging.

🐺And that's how you met your boyfriend

🐺Not how you ended up with him though…

🐺You've noticed that this guest after that incident would always stay a little longer than necessary in the lobby before heading out with his little sister and little brother.

🐺Hell you've even noticed his parents glance at you before giggling between themselves. Like damn you bumped into a guy once and his parents already are taking about you.

🐺Though you learned why when one day during a mini conversation you were having with a step family member/co-worker when a little girls voice shouted “Jack that's the worker you have a crush on right?” causing both you and family member to turn your heads and seeing the little beastmen girl, covered in snow from just having came inside, pointing her finger at you with her older brother laughing and the guy you bumped into ‘Jack’ looking frozen.

🐺Jack grabbed both his siblings hands and dragged both of his siblings to the elevator with his head down low and disappeared with shame before you could even crack a smile from this.

🐺He's cute. Why not lean into the whole crush thing?

🐺You tried to ask your friends in the sea on LiveJournal to ask what you should do but they were less than useful with suggesting things that most definitely wouldn't pass on land. Looks like you were on your own.

🐺He practically avoided you after this, you only know this because family members would tell you that he'd go through the lobby only when he knew he could avoid you, like when you weren't on your shift or that you were on your on break. He was just so embarrassed.

🐺Now being staff you couldn't exactly just walk up to him and start talking, you hypothetically could but like it'd just come off as being strange ya know? and it'd look pretty creepy if a staff member on ff their shift just walked up to you despite not knowing who they are plus whenever you were off your shift your stepmom and dad would want to spend time with you

🐺You had to wait for him to approach you but you knew that wasn't going to happen.

🐺The ski lodge stayed open during new years eve for a new year's party luckily for you they decided to give you the day off so that you could enjoy the party

🐺You spent your time in the lobby, filled with people entering and leaving, standing around talking to eachother, etc. Sitting by yourself on the couch near the fireplace was probably the best place to be right now.

🐺No wonder why in the confusion of the hustle and bustle that Jack accidentally found himself sitting right next to you.

🐺You were surprised that he sat near you so you tapped his shoulder to catch his attention when he turned his head to look at you his ears immediately went up into the air in alert. He didn't even notice that he sat next to you. That makes more sense.

🐺You kept the conversation light failing to mention how his little sister outed him and you actually get him to ease up to where the two of you were having a actual conversation with one another learning about eachother, he was suprised to find out you were merfolk you were suprised to find out he had magic, just two people getting to know eachother.

🐺It progressively got closer to the new year the longer you two kept talking.

🐺 "I promised I'd catch up to my family for when the clock hits twelve. I'm sorry.” Jack explained before standing up about to leave until you grab his hand and kiss the back of it.

🐺“How about a date next year?”

🐺And that's how you got your boyfriend yes jack made it back to his family in time

🐺Jack has a strict schedule so you know the exact time he texts you and are ready for the “I love you” text

🐺Jack does worry everytime you mention a run in with a whale or the such but you assure him that if you made it this far that he has no need to worry for you

🐺He always found it surreal whenever he'd vieit you under the sea using a potion and seeing how different life as merfolk is compared to life on land your stepmother assured him he'd get used to it, you took him out to a local restaurant to let him try merfolk cuisine! He mainly ate the fruit and you were both fascinated by eachother when you saw how the other ate. Jack had to explain that fruit on land is meant to be eaten without the peel…you've been eating land fruit the wrong way-

🐺Whenever Jack gets the chance he'll let you know just how much he loves your merfolk form not just verbally but by playing with your hair and caressing your skin

🐺Formally meeting his little siblings when he took you to his place, you gave his little sister a thank you for introducing the two of you making Jack flustered and he practically pushed you up to his room out of embarrassment, the embarrassment didn't end when his dad told him to leave the door to his room open. You two just rented movies from Blockbuster to watch in his room nothing happened😭

🐺When you visited him at his dorm his dormmates were surprised by this being the way they find out Jack is dating someone

🐺Word got out fast and suddenly you had a bunch of his friends and track teammates reaching out to you.

🐺Jack is not living this down.

🐺The picnic on the beach where you and Jack brought foods from your respective cultures. He set the blanket on the shoreline where he sat on the blanket with his food and your lower body still being in the water as you place your food on the blanket is the best date you've ever had with him.

🐺You two were there until sunset where you both had to leave and kissed goodbye.

🐺You love this dork.

🍎Imagine being a city kid. Too bad you don't have to imagine it because you are a city kid. Every weekend your mom sent you to stay with your grandpa's in Harvenston while she relaxed, this isn't a arrangement you're exactly mad about I mean not only because it's more quiet compared to the city but also you've been doing this childhood, you understood that since your mom had you during college and that she was single mom that she didn't have her shit together and still doesn't so at a young age you knew your family situation

🍎You're mom never really liked leaving you with grandpa but she doesn't trust strangers watching over you, something about him being misogynistic, something you didn't really get growing up but now completely understand looking back on it, He'd never let you outside the house and always grumble about sluts on the streets….Grandpa there's only elderly people in this town. What sluts?Ms.Smith?😀.

🍎To say the least you understood your mom's choice to not interact with grandpa much and you followed suit too when you were finally old enough to take care of yourself and didn't need your grandpa watching over you, you cut him off not wanting to hear…his thoughts on things, hell you take care of your baby brother on the weekends so mom can rest even just for Saturday. The call about your grandpa's death was conflicting to say the least, for both you and your mom, your mom was sobbing hysterically on the kitchen floor when she got the initial call you didn't find out why she was sobbing until the day after, you felt sad when you found out sure your grandpa hated your mom for her life choices for her moving to the city, for her getting pregnant before marriage, for her dropping out to raise you,etc. but he played a significant part of your childhood that you felt sad, you didn't cry but you felt sad. You took your baby brother with you to pick up his ashes mom probably isn't ready to go back to her childhood home but you are.

🍎You marched up the path that led up to Harvenston with your baby brother in the back carrier and a bag of baby supplies just in case in your right hand. You had a few of the elderly people in town stop and stare at you and a few of them stopped you to ask “Are you [———] ‘s child?” where they would tell you stories about your mom when she was younger growing up in Harvenston and ask about her…it'd also end with a “Sorry for your loss.” no matter who you were talking to

🍎You walked past your grandpa's old house and just stood there for awhile. It was strange not seeing him smoking a cigar on the porch swing. A singular tear ran down your cheek. You sighed and kept walking to the next house that made the call to your mother.

🍎You hesitate before knocking on the door to which a elderly woman opens the door and seems suprised to see you before her suprise disappears and is replaced with by a smile that warms you despite all the snow. She hands you a grey urn with a rose gold apple blossom on the lid. She invites you inside to which you delay your response before stepping in, You sit down on her couch and place the urn on the coffee table so you could take the opportunity to give your baby brother a bottle of milk while the old woman you learned was Ms.Felmier went to make to make tea, as you fed your baby brother almost one after another a new person walked into the living room. Two women and two men around your moms age sit in the living room and repeat questions you've already been asked. Yes, I'm [——-]’s child. No, I didn't grow up like my mom I'm not a teen parent. Yes, My mom is waiting at home. Turns out these four went to school with your mom and just wanted to know how their friend has been since she left for the city, huh sorry for assuming you're all just nosey pricks, Ms.Felmier finally walks in with the tea for you and takes your baby brother so that you can drink your tea. Turns out it was one of men that found out about your grandpa's death, when he went to check on the old man since he hadn't opened his flower shop for the day like usual he was worried about the wretched stench that came from your grandpa's home and he looked through his bedroom window and…

🍎That's why he's ashes now. Your tea was finished and you put your brother in the baby carrier before picking up the urn ready to leave. But one of the woman insisted that she have her son walk you back to the mirror you said no but she persisted until you relented to letting her son walk you to which she called him down from upstairs. You waited at the door before a boy with purple hair emerged in your line of sight to which he blinked at you before smirking

🍎“Why hello” oh this'll just be soooo fun of a walk back.

🍎And that's how you met your boyfriend.

🍎Not how you got with him though he was a misogynistic shit when you first met him.

🍎When your mom finally built the courage, you and your mom finally went to Grandpa’s house to collect his things and empty the house the Felmier family helped you guys especially when it got too much for your mom and she had to sit outside. Epel and Epel's mom, dad, aunt, uncle,and cousin helped you take alot of the things out of the house while his grandma and great grandma sat on the porch swing and would comfort your mom whenever she had to walk out crying. Epel during this always stayed firm on being near you, you asked him about this and he said he was the only kid in Harvenston so he's never interacted with someone his own age to which you tell him that you practically grew up in Harvenston just that your grandpa kept you locked up. He was suprised by this since apparently your grandpa never came off like that and that you two could've been friends.

🍎Over the days of clearing out the house you and Epel actually spoke alot and you congratulated him for getting into Night Raven College and dropped the news that you were also going to a magic academy too! Yeah…you didn't tell him you even had magic. Oops.

🍎The two of you exchanged a few spells when you weren't carrying your grandpa's bed, that he died in, out the house. Epel hesitantly asked how you felt and you just shrugged as if your eyes weren't watering from having to carry the bed that you slept in with your grandpa whenever you were scared of lightening. Epel told you not to cry or else your grandpa would haunt your ass which gave you a good chuckle. Because he's right, your grandpa would be fucking mocking you right now for crying.

🍎After the house was left bare and empty Epel gave you his phone number with a cheeky smile, you let him know that you don't have your own phone but you will call him over your home phone, he was a nice guy when he wasn't being fucking annoying, Not a guy you'd date or anything.

🍎When you had to go to your new school your mom made sure to give you your first phone! It wasn't the most fancy but it worked and it was fun whenever it flipped open so you weren't mad. You kept in touch with Epel giving him occasional calls and messages throughout the school year just to check in and him checking in on you due to your whole grandpa dying thing but then Song Dance Championship.

🍎A dance group from your school participated in the event so you got to attend! Never did you think you'd see Epel doing half moves he did on stage with his whole toxic masculinity shit. You're glad to see that he improved on that front, you might actually consider being friends with him after this, still though when you caught up to him after his performance you let it be known that you weren't gonna let him live down his toxic alpha male mindset to dancing prettily on stage transformation.

🍎Being the sly bastard that he is he said “You make fun of me or give me reward for the change in behavior you oh so complained about.” he said to be cheeky but he didn't actually expect you to kiss him on the lips and wave at him while walking away from doing a hand gesture to say ‘call me’ as a way to wipe that smug look off his face

🍎He was left red in the face watching you walk off, the sound of his friends hollering behind him fading away in the background

🍎Thats how you got your boyfriend?Lame corny🙄

🍎On his blastcycle late at night for the first date, half awake, just driving around with no destination in mind. Everything looked better under the moonlight, Epel looked better, the blastcycle looked better, the streetlights were brighter, the streets looked better, you looked better. The two of you shared a kiss after the date, this is a sweet high school romance you like.

🍎Getting a shitty movie from the bottom of the Walmart clearance bin, heading back to your dorm sitting under a pillow fort while eating some pizza your dorm mates made for you two,You kicked all them out of the living room letting them know that yeah they helped but please he doesn't need to know,As if your doormates weren't secretly watching the date happen and clowned on you afterwards.

🍎While messaging you found out that Epel never planned to have you visit his dorm since his vice housewarden would watch you guys and his housewarden is very nitpicky. Weird.

🍎You didn't get to go to his dorm but he did let you go over to his school to watch him during his spelldrive practice. Alot of his clubmates surrounded you with questions but Epel pushed them out of way and held your hand with a firm grip as he dragged you out annoyed. You made your way into school kitchen and sat down on the floor backs to the fridge while waiting for the brownies you guys made to finished baking in the oven while holding hands.

🍎Note to self. Don't take Epel bowling he will get competitive but hey it's fun to watch Epel grind his teeth together whenever he got pissed especially when he'd look at you and try to look a good this.

🍎The two of you chilling in your room showing eachother the spells you guys learned while at your two separate schools!The two of you were so hyped when you him showed your unique magic that the two of you celebrated; You two fell asleep in eachothers arms that night all cuddled up though when you woke up he was gone, he left a sticky note on your nightstand letting you know why “Vil will beat my ass if he finds out I snuck out to visit you,I'll call you in the morning!” And your flip phone started ringing

🍎Playing poker with him in his empty school cafeteria, trying to ignore his friends peaking into the cafeteria giving him thumbs-up, you found it more funny than anything but he seemed embarrassed, his embarrassment heightened when you turn towards his friends and wave at them letting them know you know their watching.

🍎Walking on the beach during a festival towards the end of the school year in May while holding chili fries he bought the two of you. The two you just talked and talked…You guys went to the beach at 4pm and are there at 11pm. Vil had spam called Epel but his flip phone was discarded on your beach towel and the ringing drowned out at the two of you splashing eachother.

🍎A nice little wholesome high school romance.

⚡️Summer of 04. The best and worst summer you've ever had.

⚡️Getting kicked out of your grandparents for coming home late house during spring fucking sucked. Towards the end of the freshmen year too?Yikes.

⚡️You thought it was just a temporary thing and they were just threatening this like usual and won't actually do anything but turns out your grandparents were genuinely actually kicking you out and selling all your stuff for a hot tub!

⚡️You managed to gather some of your things before staying at your friends house,then another friends, then another…..

⚡️Your friends would let you use their shower and give you food but that arrangement would usually only last for two days at minimum and a week at max before their parents would want you out the house

⚡️You couldn't get a real job due to the whole no stable home thing so whenever you needed money you'd just babysit,dogwalk,or mow lawns for a quick buck to buy yourself some things for basic survival

⚡️A solid few months of you couch surfing has passed and when you went to a friend's place to crash the night without alerting them before hand which is how you accidentally came across a party.

⚡️Your friend agreed to let you stay the night and let you put your bag of things in their attic where you'd be sleeping since the basement was filled with people,the living room is too crowded, and god forbid whatever is going on in the locked bedrooms.

⚡️So there you are leaning against the kitchen counter with a juice in your red cup, just soaking in the summer party energy going on but not participating in any of the dancing, the gossip, the smoking,the sex, or the drinking. You came to freeload off your friend not all this shit but when in Rome do what the Roman's do.

⚡️Get Busy blasting from the speakers, the disco ball bouncing light off of it, glitter that you know you'll still be finding on you months from now, confetti on the wet ground that's soaked in spilled drinks, water dragged inside from the pool, teenage tears, blood from a fight that took place before you got here, and only God knows what else is on the ground.

⚡️Weed,Cigarette smoke,Pizza,Candy,Beer,Sweat,Perfume,Cheap colone,chlorine, and popcorn. Those are the smells that attack your nostrils. A weird mixture of smells.

⚡️You were so tuned out of the party and your surroundings that you didn't notice a green haired boy your age stiffly march to your side and stand there with a firm grip on his red cup of…water.

⚡️You didn't notice the guy till he loudly said “Human!” to get your attention, which worked, and asked if you knew anything about Briar Valley with a smug look. He then proceeded to explain the entire history of Briar Valley to you. This is the weirdest way a guy has hit on you.

⚡️After he finished his mini history lesson he just stared at you before “Is this what flirting is?” Getting a good laugh from you actually being interested to see where the conversation between you and this guy will go with such a opener

⚡️You and this Sebek guy spoke exchanging your own personal history, nothing too personal that it'd make the other uncomfortable but open enough that you too could get closer, you did fail to mention to him though your living situation. He seemed really proud of his half fae-half human orgins!

⚡️His friends stood stunned that holy shit his history lesson actually pulled you

⚡️He flat out told you that he was dragged here against his will by his friends Ace and Epel and that he hated every second of the party but he knew he had to court you at first sight. Now this is the flirting you were used to!Not the whole courting thing most guys are more vulgar with it but close enough.

⚡️This is how you met him. Not how you got with him though.

⚡️You two have started writing letters nightly since Briar Valley doesn't really have phones or computers. He did question you about why your address would change on each letter but you just told you move around alot which isn't technically wrong.

⚡️You did receive a letter from… his mom!? She was happy for her son and told you she will hide your body if you break her son's heart. That letter was followed by one from Sebek telling you that his mom won't actually murder you

⚡️You flew on your broom to head over to Briar Valley to see Sebek and he was shocked to find out you had magic but he was upset you came to see him. He's supposed to he courting you know not the other way around! You just let him know that every relationship needs effort on both ends.

⚡️He taught you how to sword fight in his backyard and he did not hold back giving you a proper lesson in sword fighting that resulted with you on the grass with the tip of his sword at your chest and him on one knee and using his right hand on the back of your neck holding you up from falling on the ground. He dropped the sword on the ground blade first when you cupped his face and kissed him.

⚡️You ended up staying with him and his family for dinner and participate with his mom,dad,Sebek, and his older siblings with making preparing dinner. During dinner his parents and his siblings had all their focus on you and your relationship with Sebek confidentially answering for you, you didn't like that he was speaking for you instead of just letting you speak but the firm hold he had on your hand under the table tells you that he was just as nervous as you were.

⚡️His parents allowed you to stay over for the night. You and Sebek spoke back and forth about who got to sleep on his bed. He didn't want to hear you insisting on sleeping on the floor so he just picked you up, threw on his bed, and tucked you in with a goodnight kiss…You have to ignore the photo of Malleus Draconia on the foot of his bed to enjoy this moment

⚡️Waking up before the sun is up tired and barely alive, groggly dragging yourself downstairs and getting yourself a cup of water, once finishing your nice cool drink you waddled back up to Sebek’s. In your tired state you just stared at the sleeping Sebek on the floor with pillows and blankets snoring away and in your sleepy head you ended up laying down next to your not-really-boyfriend on the floor instead of sleeping on the bed that he demanded you slept in.

⚡️When he woke up to see your face next to his he lept back startled at the sight, immediately waking him up, but seeing your face next to him sound asleep with the sunlight peeking through the curtains hitting your facial features warmed his heart to see.

⚡️ “What are we?”

⚡️Your relationship with Sebek is….

⚡️With the fact that Sebek was a second year at night raven college meant that you couldn't spend too much time together but he still made sure to setup as many dates as possible with you, not like you had anything better to do, you got no job,no home,and definitely no education.

⚡️Being allowed onto his school campus and him teaching you how to ride a horse, he even introduced you to his horse Goldie, it was a fun yet messy date. Did you and Sebek get covered in mud?Yes. Did the two of you wash the mud out of eachothers hair?Also yes.

⚡️And even when he couldn't set up a date be it for school or knight duties he'd always sends you roses, well send them to your friends place since he still wasn't aware of your living situation.

⚡️He only found out when he wanted to suprise visit you and stood outside your friends house only to be told by your friend that you didn't live there. When he approached you about it and you told him the truth about being homeless and your grandparents he was determined to help you even if he didn't tell you.

⚡️While the two of you were slow dancing in a field with eachother you had no idea that he was sending letters to your older cousin to make arrangements for you stay with her

⚡️So imagine the shock you had when you took off the blindfold Sebek put on you for you to see a room with a bed and your cousin holding a sign saying “Welcome”

⚡️That night instead of going back to school Sebek spent the night with you and instead of sleeping on the floor you both slept in your new bed in eachothers arms

⚡️The warmth, the comfort, you could rest like this forever. Sebek loved having his face in your neck, inhaling your scent, being able to give you intimate kisses, being able to wake up in the arms of your lover.

⚡️You weren't sure if you were wanted to keep your relationship a open ended question anymore. After all this, after all he did for you, you knew what you two were. You two were dating

⚡️Your relationship with Sebek is dating.

I'll probably post my BSD x DDLC au here too since I need that out of my notes too

[thiswaytwoinfinity]

Emma's Epic Multi-Fandom Rec List: 'Top Gun: Bob' Edition

This is technically like, part 3.1 since I've been working on pulling a giant 'Top Gun: Maverick' rec list together, with all the daggers. I wanted to have this done a little while ago (because August was when I joined the TGM fandom, etc.) but frankly everything has been nuts and so I just figured it was better to share what I had ready rather than wait for the whole thing.

Please cut me some slack, my puppy just got spayed and she insists I hold her bone for her while she chews so I have like one free hand and two brain cells at the moment

I do my best to reblog as much as possible but sometimes I miss it so this is my attempt to make up for that and give all of the amazing creators on here the credit they deserve. Thank you all so much for sharing all of your work with us. This past year has been a long and difficult one for me, especially mental health wise, and being able to escape into these stories has been so valuable and important to me. 

If you read anything on here that you like, please reblog and/or comment on these pics to show the creators some love! 

AN IMPORTANT NOTE: While not everything listed here will include smut, many of these authors have 18+ blogs. Please, please, please respect their boundaries and DO NOT INTERACT WITH THEM/THEIR CONTENT IF YOU ARE A MINOR.

Stories marked with ❤️‍🔥 contain NSFW content

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd 

Full of Surprises ❤️‍🔥 by @withahappyrefrain — You have to admire a fandom that takes one look at the bespectacled, quiet-seeming character and goes “This guy fucks.” I also had that exact thought when I first saw Bob Floyd (along with several other, increasingly filthy thoughts), so when I read this story for the first time I went “oh, yeah, definitely. This guy fucks and this is how he fucks.” Just like our beloved WSO, it starts out so charming and sweet and then gets so incredibly steamy and sexy. 10/10. And when you’re done, there’s an equally hot Part 2. 

Behave ❤️‍🔥 by @withahappyrefrain — Bob Floyd bicep choking. Let me repeat that, a little louder: BOB! FLOYD! BICEP! CHOKING! It’s even hotter than you think it is. 

Whodunit? by @attapullman — Fun fact: my absolute favorite genre of fiction (books, movies, games, you name it) is a whodunit mystery. So, naturally, I have been obsessed with this series ever since Mo started teasing it way back when, and I love everything about it. Bob and Fanboy are the perfect goofy amateur sleuths, the teasing hints of cameos from all of the other Daggers keeps you on your toes and there’s a dose and campy ‘80s nostalgia running through the whole thing that I adore. It’s just pure, giddy fun. 

The Neighbor!Bob Universe ❤️‍🔥 by @attapullman — I am on record as adoring every single version of Bob that Mo cooks up, but neighbor!Bob holds a special place in my heart. He’s so handy and confident and sexy and he needs help dodging the firtations of all of the older women in the neighborhood who are equally obsessed with him! My bff and I once joked that the perfect man could build you a table and then do both you and your taxes on it, and well, that’s neighbor!Bob to a tee. 

do you wanna make somethin' of it ❤️‍🔥by @theharddeck — Hi, hello, are you looking for a Bob fic so hot it will MELT YOUR ENTIRE BRAIN? This is that fic. Bob has a secret side hustle as your favorite audio erotica performer (username: BullRiderRhett) and he is just as brain-scramblingly hot in person as he is in your headphones. I finished this fic and said out loud, to nobody, “omg I need him.” And because the universe is kind, there is an equally scorching sequel. 

you don’t have to be a star by @sunlightmurdock — Sweet, perfect Bob deserves a sweet, perfect fic where he gets to hear all about how lovely and wonderful he is, just the way he is. Fluffy and warm and the kind of story that gives you the urge to kiss him all over his perfect little face. 

Something in the Orange ❤️‍🔥by @sorchathered — I’m a sucker for a “right person, wrong time” situation and this one is a gut-punch of angst followed by a swoon-worthy reconciliation. I imagine it would be impossible to ever truly move on from Robert Floyd. 

Delicate ❤️‍🔥 and I Want Your Midnights by @laracrofted — *Tyler Owens voice* Are y’all ready to pine? Bob Floyd is an absolute dream boy and he’s at his most hesitant and lovestruck in these two gorgeous stories. These give me the same like, sinking stomach-feeling I get when I stare at pictures of Lewis for too long — like just the tiniest bit of melancholy that makes the whole experience sweeter and more emotional. Does that make sense? It’s one of the highest compliments I can give. 

Covering the Classics ❤️‍🔥by @roosterforme — BOB AND ANNA! ANNA AND BOB! I COULD SCREAM ABOUT THESE TWO FOR HOURS! I love them, this is such a beautiful, heart wrenching, emotional roller coaster of a story about learning how to find yourself and your people after heartbreak and trauma. Anna is such an interesting, complicated character and Bob meets her at every turn with love and tenderness and the biggest open heart in the world. (And also the steamy scenes are BEYOND, like, damn, Bob, neither Anna nor I was ever gonna be able to resist you.)

I Heard Screaming ❤️‍🔥by @oncassette — Yes, it’s a classic fanfic trope — I heard noises and walked in on you enjoying some *private time* while thinking about me — but it’s a classic for a reason. I love it and I reread it all the time. 

Four Eyes ❤️‍🔥by @promisingyounglady — I’m going to quote what I wrote the first time I reblogged this wildly, delightfully, insanely filthy fic: “I need to sit in a dark corner and replay this fic in my brain like a movie now.” It’s that good

Misc. Lewis Pullman Characters: 

Dancing Beneath the Moon ❤️‍🔥by @delopsia (Rhett Abbott) — Del is *the* Rhett Abbott fic writer, in my opinion, and choosing just one of their fics was so much harder than I thought. But ultimately, I’m still so spellbound by this one, where Rhett is a ghost haunting the former Abbott ranch. It’s atmospheric and moody and gorgeous and the pining is top notch — as is the image of Rhett being a grumpy, mischievous house ghost. Also please check out their Floytt universe which I also adore. 

Coyote ❤️‍🔥by @delopsia (Miles Miller) — An omegaverse with a twist! The reader is a wolf being married off to broker peace with another prominent wold family … only to run away with the sweet, gentle coyote who works at the desk of the El Royale.  Dip You in Honey So I Could Be Stickin to You ❤️‍🔥by @laracrofted (Harrison Knott) — Harrison Knott, the man that you are. And the man that you are in this fic, specifically. I need him desperately. Carnally. In a way that is concerning to feminism.

[cegantheayugipi]

The Last Padisarah Pudding, Part 3

An Alhaitham Enemies to Lovers Smut Oneshot

Link to artist

Summary: You never realized an innocent date with your best friend would set off your rival like this... He never seemed like the jealous type -- until he cornered you in the kitchen, demanding to know the nature of your friendship...

Word Count: 9.4k

Part 1

Part 2 (smut)

MINORS DNI!!! BIG SMUT BELOW THE CUT!!

Tags include: Hate sex, competitive sex, aggressive sex, hair pulling, choking, biting, orgasm denial, power dynamics, spanking, I'm so sorry I'm forgetting more but the list is just too long

You dipped your spoon into the bowl of unusually colored Padisarah Pudding in front of you, taking a bite of your favorite desert and smiling from the familiar flavors.

“Your cooking is delicious as always, Nilou!” You spoke to the redhead seated across the table. The two of you were sitting at one of the small wooden picnic tables inside the Grand Bazaar, not far from the Zubayr Theater where Nilou worked.

The dancer merely laughed, “I’m just glad we have time to enjoy it together. It’s been a while since we’ve last met.”

“That’s true, it really has been a while.” You nodded, realizing you had been incredibly busy since you graduated… At least, until the chemical “incident” that had led to your house being deemed temporarily uninhabitable by Amurta Scholars. Now that your schedule was relatively clear, you had time to hang out with your friend – your best friend, in fact. You and Nilou had known each other since you were little. Once upon a time, you wanted to be a dancer like her too… but your thirst for knowledge eventually outweighed your love for dance, and you ended up choosing the other side of Sumerian society – the one that sadly disapproved of your favorite hobby.

Despite the cultural rift that separated your young adult years from Nilou’s, you still made a consistent effort to spend time with her. During your years at the Akademiya, you enjoyed coming down to the Bazaar and dancing at the theater with your best friend. It was a wonderful way to de-stress.

“Hmm…” you trailed off as you reminisced.

“Are you lost in thought again, Y/N?” Nilou asked, resting her chin on both hands as she smiled at you.

“Ah, yeah, I was just thinking about the times we used to dance together.” You responded, your tone carrying a hint of nostalgia.

“Well, the stage is available for the next couple of hours, and I have a spare outfit you can use. Why not try a dance after we’re done with the pudding?”

“That actually sounds like a wonderful idea…” You grinned. “But speaking of pudding, do you have any extras I can take with me? After all, you invented the red Padisarah Pudding, and it doesn’t quite taste the same when I try to recreate it at home.”

“Of course! Whenever we meet, I always make sure to bring extras of your favorite dessert.” Nilou nodded.

When the two of you were finished with your desserts, you stood up from the table and dusted off your clothes.

“Actually, some dancing is exactly what I need. I should really make an effort to exercise if I keep eating so much pudding, otherwise it’ll just go to my waistline.” You joked, laughing.

“Oh, shut it! You’ve always had a beautiful figure. Don’t worry about things like that.” Nilou shook her head as she stood up with you, reaching out to give you a hug. “You’re beautiful, Y/N.”

You blushed at Nilou’s overt compliment. “You’re too sweet, Nilou.”

The redhead withdrew from the hug, reaching up one hand to caress your cheek.

“It’s only true.” She smiled, “Now, let’s get going.”

The redhead outstretched a hand to you, and you took it as a smile broke across your face. The two of you began to walk towards Zubayr Theater together.

Meanwhile, standing beside a vendor selling textiles, a blonde head of hair tracked the two of you as you walked away holding hands.

“Sir, did you still want the broadcloth?” The vendor asked, wondering why the blonde seemed so distracted.

“Uhm, yes.” Kaveh responded, shaking his head. “I’ll take swatches in all the colors you have.”

He was still very distracted, having been thoroughly confused by what he just witnessed. Nilou and you had just hugged, then she touched your face, then the two of you walked away holding hands… Kaveh’s eyes widened as he had a brutal realization.

‘Is she… in a relationship?’

~~~

Kaveh slammed the front door to Alhaitham’s house shut behind himself, kicking off his shoes in the entryway before stalking over to the living room table and tossing down the fabric swatches he had just bought. He ran a hand through his hair, brushing back his messy blonde bangs.

“Always making a grand entrance whenever you come home.” Alhaitham sighed, flipping to the next page of the book he was reading.

“Wh-” Kaveh spun around as he realized Alhaitham had been sitting on one of the couches this entire time, his nose buried in yet another book. “And you’re always secluding yourself away like a lone wolf, preferring to spend your time reading rather than talking to anyone.”

“Is there a problem with that?” Alhaitham responded, his eyes still locked onto the page as his gaze scanned across the lines of small letters.

“Maybe if you got up and talked to people for once, you’d find out more about Y/N too.” Kaveh sighed.

“What about her?” Alhaitham shrugged. “I spoke to her just this morning. Still stubborn and indignant, as she has been for the past week she has stayed here.”

“Did you ever stop to think it could be because we fucked her while she’s in a relationship?” Kaveh spat bluntly, his voice wavering from the intense anger and panic he felt about this situation.

Alhaitham looked up from his book. This surprised Kaveh – he had never seen Alhaitham so readily stop reading like that. The scribe gave him a perplexing look… confusion, mixed with… panic?

“What?” Alhaitham muttered.

“I saw her on a date. With that dancer at the Zubayr theater. On a date, Alhaitham!” Kaveh exclaimed.

“With who? Nilou?”

“The redhead who’s always famous for her dancing, Alhaitham.” Kaveh’s description confirmed Alhaitham’s suspicion.

“There’s no way. She never gave me any hint that she was-” Alhaitham cut himself off, his eyes moving from side to side as he thought. “Where did you see them?”

“The Grand Bazaar.” Kaveh responded flatly.

Alhaitham closed his book with one hand, the cover snapping shut with force. He abruptly stood up from the couch, tossing the book onto the living room table before walking directly towards the front door.

“Who’s being dramatic now?” Kaveh scoffed, but Alhaitham was too busy running through all of his memories looking for any hint of an answer to the question.

Were you already in a relationship?

~~~

“Wow, Nilou, this outfit is gorgeous! It looks just like yours, except the color is different.” You smiled, twirling in the mirror.

“I thought it’d suit you! That’s why I kept it around even though it doesn’t quite fit right anymore.” Nilou responded, fixing the headdress and her bangs in a vanity on the other side of the dressing room. She looked up for a second, only to see something peculiar on the back of your neck.

“Y/N, are you bruised?” Nilou questioned, getting up from her seat at the vanity and walking towards you.

“A-ah,” You blushed, your hand immediately going up to the dark purple mark that stood out now that your hair was out of the way. “Well, about that…”

Nilou let out a gasp.

“Did my dearest innocent Y/N finally get intimate with someone?”

“U-uhm, yeah…”

“And you didn’t tell me about it earlier?” Nilou questioned, far more excited than offended you had withheld this information from her. She hugged you from behind, snaking her arms around your waist. “Who was it with? Is it someone I know?”

You suddenly felt extremely shy.

“It was two people…” Your voice fell to a soft murmur.

Nilou let out another gasp, her eyes going wide.

“And one of them was Alhaitham.”

“The CLASSMATE YOU HATED?!” Nilou practically screamed. “I remember when all you would do when we hung out was rant about how much you hated him! Oh, to think how the tides have turned! I’m so happy for you!” Nilou swayed on her feet. 

“I still hate him.” You grumbled. “Smug bastard.”

“Huh? You still hate him, even though you…” Nilou trailed off, tilting her head to the side with confusion.

“Forget about it, let’s just dance!” You changed the subject, twirling on your feet and watching the fabric flare around your body.

“Alright, alright, let’s go!” Nilou nodded, understanding it was something you’d rather not talk about.

~~~

Alhaitham pushed his way through the crowds at the Grand Bazaar. He hated the busy underground market, and never came here unless he absolutely had to.

And after hearing what Kaveh had said, he really had to.

The crowd of people grew thicker and thicker as he made his way towards the center of the Bazaar, where Zubayr Theater stood. Alhaitham wondered why there would be so many people standing in place, but that was until he looked at the main stage and promptly froze in shock.

There you twirled elegantly, almost professionally, stepping in time alongside Nilou. Alhaitham couldn’t even get started on what you were wearing. He had never seen you in clothing like this, something that hugged your figure and suited you so perfectly. The fabric swayed with the tantalizing way you moved. 

Alhaitham found himself enthralled by your dance. He normally never enjoyed things like this, preferring something far more interesting like a new book. Perhaps it was because it was incredibly rare to see you so at peace, so truly happy out on the stage.

For a moment, Alhaitham doubted everything he had ever known about you. If he hadn’t spent six years at the Akademiya and his early professional career butting heads with you, he would have assumed you had only ever been a dancer.

And the way you moved in sync with Nilou…

A hand trailed over your bare stomach, Nilou’s arms moving gracefully and delicately over your body as the two of you danced. After another spin, you did the same to Nilou, and Alhaitham seethed inwardly as he saw a smile grow across the redhead’s face.

Alhaitham realized Kaveh was exactly right to say what he said. The way you moved in perfect sync with the Nilou, your bodies coming within inches of each other during certain moves, it made the dance seem almost intimate.

You and Nilou finished the dance with a twirl, coming to a rest side-by-side, one arm wrapped around each other’s waist while the other waved at the huge crowd that had gathered around the stage.

The sea of people roared, cheering and clapping for the two dancers. Alhaitham saw you let out a laugh that he couldn’t hear since the crowd was far too loud. You turned to Nilou with a flushed face and spoke something, and she nodded in response. The two of you began to walk to different parts of the stage; it seemed like you were beginning another dance.

Suddenly, Alhaitham couldn’t bear to watch anymore – he turned around and stormed away, his head now filled with far too many thoughts that he didn’t want to think.

~~~

You hummed to yourself as you walked into Alhaitham’s kitchen, carefully putting away the Padisarah Pudding that Nilou had sent home with you. It was hard not to eat it all immediately – Nilou’s specialty was your favorite food, and you truly believed you’d never get sick of eating it.

First, however, you really wanted a bath. It had been a long day for you, and you were looking forward to a luxurious soak in the guest bedroom’s ensuite bath. After all, you only had two days left before Amurta scholars would perform their inspection of your old apartment to deem it habitable once again, so you felt the need to make the most of Alhaitham’s luxurious house.

You turned around to leave the kitchen when a hand came out of nowhere, landing on the cabinet beside your head with a loud bang.

You nearly jumped at the noise – looking up, you realized it came from a glowering Alhaitham.

“What are you wearing?” Alhaitham stared down at you.

“It’s a dancing outfit, why are you even asking?” You grumbled. “Have you never seen one before?”

‘Not one on you.’

Alhaitham held back his words, despite wanting so badly to say that you shouldn’t be allowed to wear something so… provocative in public. So, instead, Alhaitham decided to cut to the chase.

“What are you and Nilou to each other?” Alhaitham questioned, narrowing his eyes.

You blinked.

Well, Alhaitham was certainly getting straight to the point.

“Excuse me…?” You muttered, baffled. What on earth was he talking about?

“It’s a simple question.” Alhaitham leaned closer to you, his eyes scrutinizing the look on your face. “I saw the two of you dancing at the Grand Bazaar. What is Nilou to you?”

You scoffed as you realized what he was concerned about.

“What are you, jealous?” You smirked. ”I thought you hated the Grand Bazaar. Why were you even there?”

“Just answer my question.” Alhaitham narrowed his eyes at you, his expression growing more and more frustrated.

“Hah.” Alhaitham’s insistence confirmed it. “I’m not surprised you’re jealous of Nilou, you’re just a feeble scholar after all.”

Alhaitham seethed inwardly as he leaned in closer to your face, his eyes narrowing.

“It’s a simple question.” He spoke. All he wanted was an answer from you, so he would have to ignore your childish teasing until he got one.

“She’s my best friend, you ASSHAT!” Your voice rose into a shout.

“Then why have I never seen you two together before?” Alhaitham questioned.

“You would have if you ever bothered to visit the Bazaar.” You scoffed. “But you’re too busy acting like Academics are superior to anything else in Sumeru, with your stupid superiority complex that makes you feel like you have to run laps around your own professors to have any sense of achievement.”

“As if you aren’t the same.”

“That’s because I’m NOT!” You spat, your lips forming a bitter frown. “I used to be a dancer before I joined the Akademiya… but you’d never understand that side of Sumerian Culture.”

“Dancing is a pointless waste of time. You were far better off in the Akademiya.” Alhaitham spoke sharply.

Your eyes went wide.

“Fuck you, Alhaitham.”

The scribe didn’t realize how hurtful his words truly were to you… he was simply glad you chose to become a scholar because otherwise, he would have never met you in the first place.

“So you and Nilou really are nothing more than friends?” Alhaitham pressed further, only deepening your wound.

“Is that all you fucking care about? Asshole.” You averted your gaze from the scribe that towered over you, slipping out from where he had nearly sandwiched you against the wall.

You were done with the conversation. You were going back to the guest bedroom to take a bath like you had been planning to do after a long day in the city. 

“Wait,” Alhaitham followed after you, completely disregarding the way you made it very obvious that you no longer wanted to speak to him.

“You really never know when to stop.” You scoffed, spinning around and stalking towards him until you were face-to-face again. “Why do you feel the need to hear that Nilou and I were only ever friends? Are you really that jealous?”

“I want to make sure I didn’t force you to cheat.” Alhaitham spoke flatly, his tone unusually bland as he was finally forced to voice the worry that had been plaguing him for the whole day.

“Oooooh you SELFISH BASTARD!” You roared. “Do you really think you made me do all of that with you and Kaveh? I can make choices too! I’m not some child or some idiot you can just manipulate to feed your selfish desires, no matter how much you wish that was the case!”

As you shouted, you placed a palm flat on Alhaitham’s chest, pushing him backwards until his back collided with the wall beside a doorway.

Alhaitham was speechless at your sudden shove, having never seen you act in such a way. This time, he had his back against the wall, and you were leaning far too close to him. He could see the rage in your eyes, the indignation his questioning had caused you…

Your hands suddenly reached up, raking through his hair before pulling his head down to crash your lips into his. Alhaitham’s arms moved on impulse, slipping around your waist and pulling your body closer to his.

The kiss was aggressive, hungry, your teeth tearing at his lips. Alhaitham’s hands began to travel down your waist, his hands roaming over your body and savoring its supple curves. 

Your hands dropped from his head and pushed against his shoulders as you broke from the kiss, leaning away from him. There was still a fire in your eyes despite your swollen cheeks and flushed face.

Alhaitham was stunned as one of your hands flew up to strike him across his face.

“Fuck you.” You spat, and despite the harsh hit he had just received, Alhaitham immediately began to smirk.

“Only if you insist.”

You let out a guttural moan that could be described as something close to a growl… Your hand reached up to grab the collar of Alhaitham’s shirt, pulling him forwards so your lips could collide again.

This time, your hand snaked down the front of his torso, going for the growing bulge in his pants. You smirked as you palmed it, eliciting a groan from the Scholar.

“Only a little kissing, and you’re already this hard?” You sneered.

With something halfway between a scoff and a laugh, Alhaitham’s hands slid under the curve of your ass to grip your upper thighs.

“Jump.” He ordered, his voice cold.

You were about to argue back at him, but Alhaitham didn’t seem to care whether you jumped or not – with strength alone he lifted you off your feet, bringing your legs up to hook around his torso and give himself better access to you.

The scribe spun around to put your back against the wall this time, rolling his hips and pressing his stiff length against the clothing that hid your drooling pussy. A breathy gasp escaped your lips, and Alhaitham broke the kiss to lean back and stare into your half-lidded eyes.

“Who’s the one getting turned on now?” He smirked.

“Bastard-” You grumbled, but Alhaitham quickly cut you off by smothering your mouth with his. It felt like you were fighting against his lips, the way they seemed to devour you. His hips continued to roll, spreading pleasure like a wildfire through your body as his erection pressed near-painfully into you. You wrapped your legs around his torso tighter, your thighs squeezing his waist as he held you against the wall.

“Mmmh!” You moaned into the kiss, your eyes squeezing shut as Alhaitham ground into you again. Alhaitham used your temporary weakness to rudely invade your mouth with his tongue.

You tried your best to withhold the moan that threatened to escape as Alhaitham’s tongue swirled around yours. It felt so good – but that fact alone made you angry.

You groaned, deciding to bite down on Alhaitham’s tongue. However, he seemed to sense this coming as he withdrew from the kiss, a string of saliva hanging between the two of you.

“Hah.” You scoffed. “Are you getting off to the fact that Kaveh is home and could walk in at any moment?”

“You’re assuming that I care.” Alhaitham responded with a smirk, dipping his head down to latch his lips onto the tender skin of your neck.

“Disgusting bas- haaah-” You groaned as he bit down and sucked at your sensitive skin, the pain only adding to the growing pool of wetness in your pants. Alhaitham moved to a different spot, continuing to litter your skin with marks. As he attacked your neck with his mouth, the pain became sharper and sharper. You realized he was breaking your skin with his teeth as you let out an airy moan.

Your hands went up to the back of his head, grabbing onto his hair in order to stop him from ruining your skin any more. It took a lot of strength, but you managed to pull him away from you. Alhaitham seemed to let out a low growl as you interrupted him. 

“Stop it! Do you even care that you’re gonna leave marks?” You shouted, pulling on his hair even harder – to the point where you were beginning to pull out his hair.

“Stop pulling on me.” Alhaitham grumbled.

“No, fuck you!” You squirmed, grinding your crotch down on Alhaitham, making him grunt from the sudden stimulation.

“Let go.” Alhaitham ordered, his eyes squinting from the pain you were causing him by pulling at his hair. One of his hands shifted from under your thighs to wrap around your neck, giving the slender column of your airway a warning squeeze as he rolled his hips into you again.

With a groan, you finally let go of Alhaitham’s hair… leaving strands of gray in your hands.

You didn’t care as you tipped your head forward to mash your lips into his. You grunted, turning your head to attack at a different angle. You bit at Alhaitham’s lips, growing more and more aggressive after everything Alhaitham had done to you.

The scribe stepped away from the wall, both hands planted firmly on your ass as he began to carry you. He walked through the doorway beside the two of you, neither of you breaking the passionate kiss as you moved. As Alhaitham walked into the room, he threw his cloak onto the floor – he wouldn’t be needing it, anyway.

Alhaitham came to a stop. He suddenly pulled his head back, throwing you down. You let out a yelp as you fell backward. For a split-second you truly believed you were being thrown onto the floor. However, as extremely soft blankets stopped your fall, you realized Alhaitham had thrown you down on a bed – his bed.

“Fuck you, Alhaitham!” You reached up to smooth your hair back. Only then did you realize your hands were covered with silver strands of Alhaitham’s hair, and the scribe stared at this with ire.

“Were you trying to make me go bald?” Alhaitham questioned angrily, reaching one hand up to feel the back of his head.

“Yeah, your hair is ugly.” You joked.

Alhaitham narrowed his eyes.

“Well, you’d look far better without those clothes.” Alhaitham immediately responded.

“Hah. Did you just compliment me?”

Alhaitham replied by hooking his slender fingers around the waistband of your skirt. He gave a harsh tug, reducing the beautiful fabric of Nilou’s skirt to shreds.

“HEY!” Your voice rose into a shout. “These clothes are borrowed!”

“You ripped out my hair, so it’s only fair that I get to return the favor.” Alhaitham sneered. He reached one hand down to your underwear, pausing as he felt your soaked underwear. Pressing two fingers into the wet fabric, he forced a moan from your lips.

“Ngh, asshole!”

“Hah.” Alhaitham smirked. “You’re so wet it’s almost pitiful. Do these kinds of discussions turn you on this much?”

“I wouldn’t call them discussions. And you’re one to talk when your dick is trying to escape your pants.”

You reached down and gripped Alhaitham’s shaft tightly, your fingers digging into the fabric of his pants.

“Hah.” Alhaitham grunted as he tried to ignore the pleasure shooting up his stomach. He hooked his fingers around the hem of his shirt before pulling it over his head, discarding the piece of clothing on the floor behind him. He climbed onto the bed on top of you, planting his hands on the mattress beside both of your shoulders and caging you between his arms.

Alhaitham dipped his head down for a passionate and aggressive kiss. Your teeth knocked together, tearing at each others’ lips, vying for dominance. The scribe reached down and roughly grabbed the wrist of your hand that was on his crotch, bringing your arm up beside your head and pinning it in place. He ground into you again, this time with very little clothing between the two of you.

You moaned, but you weren’t going to break the kiss – and neither was he.

It was a competition now.

You squirmed in response, pushing your hips up to roughly counter his action. It elicited a grunt from him, but he still didn’t break the kiss. You bit down on his lips hard – hard enough to taste the metallic blood that you had drawn.

Alhaitham grunted at the pain, and you felt his dick twitch against your inner thigh. You smirked into the kiss as he silently cursed you. 

As retribution, Alhaitham’s free hand roamed down your torso. His fingers trailed over your bare stomach, hooking around the waistband of your panties, ripping them clean from your body with a single pull.

“Mmmh!” Your exclamation was muffled by Alhaitham’s lips. The sudden sensation of cool air directly on your wet heat made you press your thighs together, but they were stopped by Alhaitham’s hips which were still hovering right in front of your aching pussy. You wanted nothing more than to fall fully into this incredible sensation, 

The scribe quickly freed his aching cock without you noticing – at least, not until he pressed his leaking tip against your entrance.

You froze for a moment, the sudden friction of bare skin against bare skin sending pleasure shooting through your body.

“Hahh.” Alhaitham finally broke the kiss, but you were too turned on to feel any sense of victory.

The scribe looked down at you, reveling in your pleasure-ridden expression and the way you squirmed beneath him.

“I wish you could see yourself right now.” He smirked, making you seethe with anger.

“Why you- haah!” Your eyes rolled back in your head as Alhaitham pressed himself into you, stretching you with his ridiculous girth. “Stop it- Fuck!”

You tried to kick your legs out to push him away. Alhaitham pulled his hips back slightly, seeming like he was complying with you, but only pushed forwards again moments later. Your mouth fell open as you felt his tip rub against your sensitive walls, and Alhaitham reveled in the way you fell apart beneath him.

“Ahn- haaah~ Fuck yo-” You went completely silent as he bottomed out inside of you, your face contorting with pleasure.

“When will you learn,” Alhaitham spoke as he slowly withdrew from you, “That you can’t win,” Alhaitham thrust his hips forwards, “against me.” He came to a stop, fully sheathed inside of you again.

“Aahhhnn~” Your back arched as you felt him invade your painfully sensitive pussy once more. Your legs twitched, and for a moment you couldn’t control your body anymore.

The pleasure made you forget all the anger you had harbored towards him; it was pitiful how easily you came undone. Alhaitham began to roll his hips, the slow prodding against your tender walls making you lose your sense of self.

His movements grew faster and larger; a squelching noise began to fill the room as he pushed in and out of you.

“Aaah stop it you bas- nngh!” Your words quickly became garbled from the pleasure Alhaitham was giving you. He rolled his hips into you harder, pressing himself against the plush of your ass, the tip of his swollen cock reaching even further inside of you.

“Why couldn’t you have been this easy in the Akademiya?” Alhaitham’s condescending tone grated against your ears, making your eyes go wide with shock. You snapped out of your pleasure-filled haze, suddenly enraged once again.

“How DARE YOU!” Your hands shot up to his chest, pushing against the scribe. Your irascibility only made Alhaihtam more smug, and it infuriated you. Gritting your teeth, you tried your hardest to push Alhaitham off of you – he was just too heavy, and your legs were just too weak with him still fucking into you.

So, instead, you reached your hands down and pinched one nipple – hard.

“Haah- fuck!” Alhaitham groaned, his hips stuttering, overwhelmed by the sudden jolt of pleasure you gave him.

“Oh?” You murmured, pinching harder. A fierce blush grew across Alhaitham’s face.

“S-stop that.” He grunted, his movements coming to a standstill.

“Oh, so now we’re allowed to say stop?” You retorted.

Twisting your body, you used all of your core and leg strength to flip Alhaitham over. He groaned as you forced him to pull out of you, kicking his hips over and forcing him to roll onto his side on the mattress.

You practically pounced onto him, straddling his waist as you bent down and latched your lips around one of his nipples. You pinched the other with one hand, rolling it between your thumb and forefinger. Alhaitham squeezed his eyes shut and groaned, making you laugh while you swirled your tongue around one nipple.

“Look at you, power tripping over the smallest of advantages- haah!”

You bit down on his nipple, eliciting a pained gasp from the scribe. Alhaitham hated the fact that he enjoyed this – reaching up, he grabbed you by your hair and yanked your face away from his sensitive chest.

“Advantage?” You scoffed, your neck straining against Alhaitham’s grip. “I’m pretty sure you’re enjoying this.”

“I have to admit, after all our -hnng- years at the Akademiya, you’re just as -fuck!- insufferable as ever.” Alhaitham groaned, tilting his head back and letting go of your hair as you ground down on his painfully hard dick.

“You’re one to talk.” You spoke. “You were the worst classmate I’ve ever had.” Your voice dripped with spite as you rolled your hips again, drawing another groan from Alhaitham.

“How could I be the worst classmate when I was always the best in the class?” Alhaitham retorted, pushing his hips up into you, grinding his length against your swollen folds.

“I could give you a comprehensive list.” You quickly responded, twisting his nipple – hard. You leaned down, biting and sucking at the soft skin of his chest. You wanted to leave marks bad enough to be seen through his ridiculous sheer skin-tight shirt.

“H-gah-ahh-” Alhaitham’s movements stuttered, far too sensitive to be treated this way. “Fuck, Y/N, what are you -hah- doing to me…”

“Payback.” You lifted your head up from his chest to respond as you shifted your hips. Lining your entrance up with the head of his aching cock, you pushed yourself down and forced him inside you.

“Archons- oh fuck-” Alhaitham groaned as he felt himself penetrate you. You knew he was anything but a pious man, so to hear him call out to the Gods reassured you that you were doing something right. Alhaitham began to erratically move his hips as he tried to get any motion he could, only to cry out at a completely new sensation.

Your hand reached behind yourself to snake down between Alhaitham’s legs. Your slender fingers wrapped around his swollen balls, squeezing them hard enough to teeter on the boundary between pleasure and pain.

“Don’t even think about trying to take over.” You snapped, grinding your hips down as you dug your nails into his ever-so-sensitive skin.

“Fuck- Y/N, s-stop!” Alhaitham’s hands flew down to your hips. He held onto your plush skin with an iron grip, trying his best to hold you still, though you could feel his hands slightly trembling as he held you.

“Make me.” You sneered, squeezing his balls tighter.

With something halfway between a growl and a groan, Alhaitham bucked his hips hard. He threw you off of him and made you land on your back on the soft mattress. Before you had time to react he pinned you down, using one arm to hold both of your hands above your head and the other to hold one of your legs.

He pushed your knee against your chest as you squirmed, hating the way he so easily restrained you. However, you couldn’t help but feel turned on by the helpless feeling you had as he forced his cock into you once again.

You let out a pitiful moan as Alhaitham pounded into you, this time too angry, fed up, turned on to give you the mercy of holding back. The slapping sounds grew louder and louder as your aching pussy drooled from the penetration, sweat building on your skin from the vigorous sex.

“Why can’t you just shut that pretty mouth of yours,” Alhaitham grunted, thrusting into you, “and let me make you feel good?”

“Fucking bastard-” You groaned, his smug words infuriating you.

“Or is it that you prefer pain?” Alhaitham began to pick up his pace – his hips rammed into the plush of your ass harder and harder, until it became painful. Alhaitham’s abdomen strained as he forced himself into you over and over again, his cock splitting your walls apart as the thrusting of his hips made your entire body jolt in the bed.

“Ah! Ow- Fuck- fuck- it hurts, you asshole, it HURTS!” You cried, knowing your ass would certainly be bruised after this.

“I don’t think you deserve to complain after the stunt you just pulled.” Alhaitham spat, his breathing labored from how vigorously he was fucking you.

“F-Fuck you!” You screamed, winding your one free leg back and kicking him in the face with what little strength you had left.

Alhaitham recoiled, stunned by the blow to his face. The scribe let go of your body, withdrawing from your abused pussy. He looked down at you with an expression you had never seen before…

Was it… Anger?

“Remember that you fucking asked for this.”

Alhaitham moved fast, nearly pouncing on you as he pinned both your legs against your chest. He entered you again, this time with your body even more restricted, not allowing your legs any movement at all as he immediately began his previous pace.

At this angle, somehow, your pleasure felt even more amplified than before. Your eyes rolled back in your head as Alhaitham relentlessly pounded into you. The squelching sounds of his cock invading your drenched pussy, the way he stretched you so perfectly, the bullying of his tip deep within your walls drove you mad with pleasure.

“Nggh!- haah- oh fuck~” The snap of his hips against your already-bruising ass drove you mad with a disgusting mixture of pleasure and pain.

“It's so much better when you’re reduced to unintelligible noises.” Alhaitham grunted.

“Fucking… ass… Haah~”  You whined, but you weren’t able to do much more as your mouth hung open. Alhaitham savored the way your expression seemed vacuous, proof that he and he alone had successfully fucked you dumb.

Alhaitham slowed his thrusts almost completely, determined to torture and tease you until you were reduced to nothing. His length slid in and out of you slowly, and he could feel your swollen walls twitch and constrict from the sudden loss of friction.

However, Alhaitham wasn’t prepared for what you did next. He expected you to beg, to go insane, to promise to do anything just to come around his cock. The last thing he could ever foresee happening was for your face to return to normal, a devilish smirk growing across your lips.

“Fuck you.”

You spat out those words as you twisted your torso, one hand snaking around his back. Your legs shifted to wrap around Alhaitham’s torso as your fingers slipped into the cleft of his ass, making sure he was stuck there as you invaded his tight asshole.

“What are you- HEY!” Alhaitham exclaimed, prepared to force you away from him again, but completely caught off guard by the new sensation he felt.

“Wha- ngh! Ahn-” He groaned. You reveled in the way his face suddenly contorted with pleasure, making sure to ingrain this expression in your memory forever. Your smirk turned into a wicked grin as you pressed your forefinger further into his virgin ass.

The pleasure was foreign, but it was so intense that Alhaitham lost control of his limbs temporarily. He fell on top of you and you took this chance to wrap your legs around his torso, holding him in place as you began to pump the finger in and out of him.

“Haah- Y/N, wh-what is this-”

You cut Alhaitham off with another aggressive kiss, biting at his swollen and bloody lips as you drove him crazy with one single finger.

You could hear Alhaitham’s breathing become erratic as you continued, the scribe still unable to move due to the sheer volume of overstimulation. To make sure you truly drove him mad with pleasure, you added a second finger, probing further into his ass as you pumped in and out of him.

“Aahn~” Alhaitham broke from the kiss, his composure completely dissolving as he let out a whine. You’ve never seen him reduced to such a blubbering mess, and you made sure his whimpering and moaning would be etched into your memory permanently.

Alhaitham couldn’t hold up his head any longer – he rested his forehead in the crook of your neck, his shoulders shaking as he failed to prop himself up on his arms. You felt the full weight of Alhaitham’s body as he came undone from two fingers alone.

“No- fuckfuckfuckfuckFUCK!” You heard his voice crack while blubbering the mantra of curses as dick twitched and throbbed red-hot inside of you. You could feel his tight hole constrict around your fingers, making you pump into him harder as he whined. Your eyes went wide as you felt something warm spread across your walls. You withdrew both of your fingers from him, suddenly irate.

Alhaitham just came inside of you.

“Are you so incompetent that you just came inside of me?” You questioned, grabbing Alhaitham’s hair and pulling his head up so you could meet his eyes.

You stared for a moment at Alhaitham’s face – his eyes were unfocused, glazed over, a flush tinting his cheeks a deep red. There was a trail of saliva dripping from one corner of his mouth, his lips hanging open, along with smears of spit all over his chin as he tried his best to recover from what you had just done to him.

“Nghh…” Alhaitham groaned, his arms straining as he slowly picked himself off of you. “That’s what you get for invading my ass.”

“Hah!” You exclaimed, “I’m pretty sure you loved it.”

“Fuck you.” Alhaitham responded, his cognition reduced to vulgar insults after such intense stimulation.

“I’m pretty sure you just tried to do that.” You sneered. “You didn’t succeed, because the only person who came was you.”

Alhaitham merely growled, pushing himself off of you and withdrawing his half-hard dick from your pussy. It was coated in a sheen of white, a vulgar mixture of both your arousal and his cum. He grabbed your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your delicate skin as he pulled you towards the end of the bed and flipped you onto your stomach. He lifted your hips into the air, his biceps flexing as he supported your body weight.

Alhaitham used one thumb to pull apart your swollen lips, admiring the sheen of your arousal and the clumps of cum that dripped from your entrance. At the thought of brutalizing your pussy and unloading inside of it, his dick was already hard again.

“What are you doing- Ahhhnnn~” Your eyes went wide as Alhaitham thrusted into you, starting at an aggressive pace that had you digging your elbows into the mattress for support. You had no control since your legs were dangling in the air off the edge of the bed, the ridiculous position only made possible by Alhaitham’s strength.

“Do you really think you can win,” Alhaitham  spoke, his voice mixing with the lewd slapping and squelching as he fucked you brutally, “when I’m stronger, I’m smarter, I’m better than you?

“Haaah~ you’re wrong-“ you gasped out, your head buried in the mattress as Alhaitham’s thrusts shook your body violently. “Aah- bastard!”

Alhaitham showed no signs of relenting as he burned with indignation. He couldn’t believe you had made him cum the way you did – it drove him to fuck you deeper, harder, to drive you insane with his cock. He ignored your whimpering and moaning, determined to teach you a lesson.

As he pummeled into you over and over, you could feel your abdomen tightening with pleasure. From this angle, he felt bigger and longer than before, and it was beginning to drive you insane. Each snap of his hips against your ass pushed you closer and closer to your climax, and you began to lose control of what you were saying as you approached the precipice of orgasm.

“Hnnn ‘Haitham… ‘so good…” You mumbled, your voice muffled from the way your head was pressed into the mattress.

“Hmm, what was that?” You heard Alhaitham speak smugly between the loud slapping of his thrusts.

“Screw you” You gave a breathless groan in response as you tried your best to hang onto reality despite being so close to orgasm. You were infuriated by how smug he was becoming even if not five minutes before he was in the exact same position. You were determined to not let him win in this competition.

However, a loud smack resounded through the room, followed by a whimper. Alhaitham had used one hand to land a harsh blow on your ass. He left behind a red handprint on your soft skin.

Alhaitham only smirked as he continued to fuck you; seeing the way your ass was in the air and your face was buried in the sheets seemed so perfect to him. He wanted to see you at his mercy, begging for his cock, calling his name over and over.

Thus, he pulled out of you suddenly, throwing your body back down onto the mattress. You rolled onto your back as you let out a whine from the sudden lack of stimulation and the harrowing sensation of emptiness within you.

“What? Wh-Why’d you stop, you asshole!” You shouted, glaring up at the narcissistic scholar.

“If you want to cum, you have to beg.” Alhaitham sneered. He got onto all fours above you, hands planted on either side of your head as he hooked your legs over his shoulders. You stared at him, half-expecting him to continue his brutal fucking despite what he had just said.

Instead, Alhaitham began to grind against your aching pussy. His thick length ran up and down your soaked slit, teasing your overly-sensitive clit.

“Hahhh… stop that!” You squirmed, but Alhaitham only ground against you harder. He dipped his head down, biting into the soft tissue of one breast, leaving a dark purple hickey as he withdrew.

“Beg.”

“Like hell I will!” You responded, trying to kick your legs only to realize Alhaihtam was hovering so low above you that you had no leverage when they were hooked over his shoulders like this. Alhaitham moved to another location, leaving a painfully dark hickey again.

“Ugh, stop it!” You reached your hands up, pulling at Alhaihtam’s hair to try to make him stop leaving hickeys.

Alhaitham’s lips parted from your chest with a popping sound, a string of saliva hanging from his lips as he reached one arm up and grabbed both of your hands. Pinning them above your head, he rocked his hips against you harder, making your back arch as you ached for him to fill you.

“Aagh!” You groaned, squeezing your eyes shut. “Stop teasing me and just fuck me already!” 

“Hmm? What was that?” Alhaitham taunted, rolling his hips again, sending small jolts of pleasure shooting up your abdomen – but it wasn’t anywhere near enough to make you orgasm.

“I said, just fuck me already!” You groaned, your pussy clenching around nothing as you grew more and more desperate to be filled.

“Hmmm… I don’t like your tone.” Alhaihtam responded coolly, “I want you to beg.”

Another slow grind against your swollen lips left you panting.

“Haahh,” You blinked, trying your best to maintain composure, “fuck me… please.”

“Begging is really not a hard thing to do.” Alhaitham teased, “Are you really that bad at understanding such a simple direction?”

“Please fuck me.” You whimpered, your voice suddenly small.

“What exactly do you want me to do?” Alhaitham pushed you further as he ground against you again. The motion drew a small whimper from your lips.

“P-please, I need your cock…” You whined as Alhaitham rolled his hips into you once more, “I need your cock inside of me…”

“Very well.” Alhaitham spoke bluntly, drawing his hips back and thrusting into you with force.

You let out a shrill scream as Alhaitham’s hips came to land against the plush of your ass. The stretch felt so good, the way he filled you so perfectly made your eyes roll into the back of your head.

However, Alhaitham came to a stop like that. He didn’t move any more, keeping his hips settled against your ass. Your eyes blinked open as you came back to your senses, and you realized Alhaitham was staring down at you with an infuriatingly smug expression on his face.

“If you want me to do anything more than this, you’ll have to be better at begging.”

“Ngh… No… Please, just fuck me already…” You whimpered, trying to move your hips to gain any sort of friction between his cock and your aching walls.

“I said beg.”

“Please, please I’ll do anything, just fuck me!” You exclaimed, tears welling up in your eyes as you grew more and more desperate.

“If you really mean you’ll do anything,” Alhaitham’s voice dripped with gratification, “Then who’s cock do you want to fuck you?”

“Alhaitham’s cock, please, Alhaitham please fuck me! Please make me cum pleasepleaseplease-”

Alhaitham drew his hips back before sharply thrusting into you a single time, his hips colliding with your ass as a loud slap echoed through his bedroom. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you let out the most lewd and pitiful whine, your body shaking from how desperately you craved stimulation.

“Look at you, so desperate for the cock of a feeble scholar.” Alhaitham sneered, “If you want it so badly, you have to finally admit that I’m better than you.”

“Ngh, no-” You were cut off by another singular thrust, “haah- ngh…”

Alhaitham grabbed a fistful of your hair, forcing your head back and exposing your throat. You moaned, somehow turned on by his painful grip on your hair.

“You’ll have to admit it if you want to cum. Trust me, I can wait all day... But I’m sure you wouldn’t like that.”

As Alhaitham spoke, he rolled his hips slightly, the tip of his dick pressing harder into your sensitive walls.

“Hahhh…” You sighed, your resolve finally breaking down. “You’re better, Alhaitham, you’re smarter and stronger and the only one who can make me-”

Alhaitham had finally heard what he was so eager to hear after all of these years. He finally let loose, allowing his desires to take over now that he won. He thrusted into you wildly, leaving all restraint in the back of his mind as he pummel into your sweet, submissive pussy.

You screamed as you finally received the stimulation you craved. Alhaitham went wild as he pounded into you, talking down to you now that your responses had devolved into lewd whimpers and screams.

“This is why the Sages chose me to retrieve the divine knowledge capsule and not you. Hahh, I’m surprised they even let you compete with me for the Auspicious knowledge capsule. You would have died at the hands of a Fatui Harbinger if it weren’t for my quick thinking… ngh…”

Alhaitham was getting far too turned on by talking down to you and hearing only garbled moans in response.

“Haaah, ‘Haitham!” You exclaimed, your eyes rolling back in your head as you grew closer and closer to orgasm. Your shouts rose into screams as Alhaitham continued to bully his quickly swelling cock into your aching and abused walls. “So good, so good, s’goo…” Your mind went blank from the pleasure as your mouth hung open, the sounds you made growing louder and louder.

“Ngh, shut up.” Alhaitham reached his free hand up to your neck, supporting his body weight on his elbows instead. He pulled harder on your hair as he squeezed your neck. He cut off your screams but at the same time stopped any access to air. Your mouth hung open silently, drool trailing from your swollen and bloody lips, your eyes going wide.

You finally, after hours of violently hateful sex, came at the mercy of your most hated rival.

And at that moment, you passed out.

Alhaitham could feel your walls convulse around his cock so tightly that his movements had to slow down – you were squeezing him so hard that it almost hurt. After a couple of seconds you suddenly went limp around him, your walls still twitching sporadically, and Alhaitham gave a few more sharp thrusts before pulling out of you and spraying his load over your chest and face.

The silver-haired scribe was panting hard as he slowly came down from his high. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling it slick with sweat from so much physical exertion. He’d never had such intense sex in his life – even though his sex life was anything but bland.

He glanced down at your unconscious form sprawled out on the bed before him, your head twisted at an awkward angle and your legs splayed on either side of you as if they were putting your leaking pussy on display. He watched as a thick stream of cum slowly trailed out of your entrance, his gaze moving up to see the mottled red and purple marks he had made all over your skin.

After a couple of moments, Alhaitham snapped out of his daze as he was suddenly wracked with guilt. He leaned over you, reaching two fingers up to your neck, waiting breathlessly as he tried to find a heartbeat.

He shook his head as he finally found one, sighing to himself.

“I’m just being irrational. Of course I didn’t kill her.” He sighed, looking back and staring at your unconscious body. He drank in the marks on your skin, the slick that spilled out of you, proud that he was the only one to ever do this to you – who ever could do this to you.

For a moment, Alhaitham wanted to stay. He wanted to take care of you, to clean you up and hold you until he fell asleep. However, he quickly rid those thoughts from his head – he had a mission to complete.

Alhaitham slipped his pants and shirt back on, ignoring his disgustingly messy body as he began to walk out of the room. On the way out he picked up his cape, slinging it over his shoulder as he shut his bedroom door behind himself.

~~~

Kaveh was trying to figure out the best materials to use for the carpet of this foyer. He was an architect at heart, not an interior decorator – but this job paid well. The more jobs he took, the more he’d get paid, and then he’d finally be able to move out of Alhaitham’s hellish apartment.

The sounds of you and Alhaitham arguing grated against his ears, but he did his best to block them out – he felt bad for you. You were the same as Kaveh… you were also stuck living here, and you got just as infuriated as him by that damned scribe.

‘Stop it! Do you even care about leaving marks?’

Kaveh frowned, his head tilting to the side as he heard your shout come from the other room. He shook his head, deciding his brain was definitely in the gutter after what had happened between the three of you a week ago. There was certainly nothing lewd going on between the two of you… right?

‘Well, you’d look far better without those clothes.’

Kaveh’s eyes went wide. Alhaitham wasn’t really saying that to you, was he? Was this one of his perverse ways of giving compliments? Kaveh knew Alhaitham was bad at speaking to women, but he never expected something this bad to come from his mouth.

Then, he began to hear moans.

“That’s it, I’m taking more jobs so I can move out even faster!” Kaveh grumbled to himself, raking his fingers through his bangs as he tried his best to focus on the task at hand. “Ahh, yeah, the colors… which colors go best with ivory again…” He grumbled, talking out loud to try to drown out the very loud sexual behavior that had begun in the room next door.

However, when he began to hear the moans that came from Alhaitham, Kaveh dropped his pencil.

‘What are you- haaah~’

Kaveh couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t ignore the growing bulge in his pants, and slowly slipped his fingers beneath his clothes to take care of the problem.

~~~

“Kaveh, I need a favor.”

The blonde jumped up from his desk, quickly adjusting his clothes before turning towards Alhaitham with a stern frown on his face.

“What is it, Alhaitham?” Kaveh couldn’t hide the venom that dripped from his voice. “You stink of sex, you mongrel.”

“Stop acting like you don’t have ears, Kaveh.” Alhaitham retorted. “And stop acting like you weren’t enjoying yourself just now, either.”

Kaveh’s eyes widened with shock and indignation.

“Why you-”

“I need you to make sure Y/N stays here while I travel to Port Ormos.” Alhaitham sternly cut off his blonde roommate. “It’s not safe for her there. Last time she nearly got killed, and I can’t have her endangering herself again.”

Kaveh’s brows pinched together with confusion.

“Is it another one of those missions the Sages send you on? Don’t they usually send the both of you on the same mission?”

“It’s highly classified information.” Alhaitham responded bluntly. “But yes – I personally asked them not to send her on these missions anymore. I assured them that I would be enough.”

“I’m pretty sure she’s not going to like this when she finds out-”

“That’s why I’m leaving now. I plan to be long gone by the time she realizes.” Alhaitham cut Kaveh off once again. “And that’s why you have to do anything in your power to stop her from leaving the house.”

“I- what?” Kaveh questioned. “And you’re going to leave while smelling this foul?”

“That’s none of your business.” Alhaitham responded. “I’m entrusting her to you.”

The scribe merely walked away, as if Kaveh had already agreed to do such a heinous thing as keep you locked indoors for days on end.

Kaveh threw down his blueprints in anger, infuriated by the borderline unlivable environment of Alhaitham’s house. Then, he realized he had a deadline to meet, and awkwardly scrambled to pick back up his papers and opted to carry them out to the living room to finish them up in a different setting.

After about an hour, Kaveh was enjoying a hot cup of tea as he finished up another section of his commission. He heard the creak of a door opening – you were finally emerging from Alhaitham’s bedroom. Kaveh continued to scribble one last thing down with his free hand as he spoke to you.

“Good, you’re finally awake. Do you want some tea? I just brewed-”

Kaveh stopped mid-sentence as he looked up to see the state of you. His eyes went wide as he saw your messy hair, your bloody lips, and the purplish blotches of the hickeys Alhaitham had left all over your once-pristine skin. You were clinging to a bed sheet that you had loosely wrapped around your torso, your posture hunched over as if you were in pain.

“Archons, Y/N, you look like hel-”

“Where’s Alhaitham.” Your tone dripped with hatred.

“He’s gone.” Kaveh responded.

“He’s what?” Your eyes went wide. “I need to go after him.” You glanced around the living room.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t let you leave the house.” Kaveh responded.

“What?” You questioned, confused.

“Alhaitham said that if I let you leave the house, you’ll just go after him and endanger your life again.”

“Grrr, that BASTARD!” You exclaimed, spinning around and storming back into his bedroom, slamming the door shut so violently that it rattled the plates in the kitchen cupboards.

Kaveh let out a sigh of relief despite being seriously worried about the state of your body.

“At least she’s not trying to leave.” He sighed, trying his best to continue working on the paperwork.

[vaselinegurl]

Rating the new winx club designs cause I can 😌

Techna- 10/10

It's crazy how Techna looks like the fashionable one in the group, rather than Stella. This design is literally so cool and I love the holographic two piece set. Her hair is also eating. I JUST LOVE IT SO FREAKING MUCH.

Aisha- 7/10

Plain and simple, I actually quite like it. The colors are quite remenicient of her s2 outfit. I think its cute and I like the little cut out details. It's a pretty safe outfit, not very interesting though.

Stella- 2/10

Words cannot describe how much I hate this outfit. It. Is. So. Freaking. Ugly. The weird golden pastel yellow is clashing with the pastel purple in the weirdest possible way and that's not even the worst thing. I dont know what the hell is going on with the skirt thingy, but like it does NOT look good No thank you. I despise it. you're telling me the fashionista of the group left the house in that outfit?! No. No.

Musa- 8/10

It's giving Kpop Idol Stage Outfit x Airport fashion in the best possible way. It's really cute. I love the slim bodysuit with the crop top. I didn't realize how much I missed her short hair until now, God the nostalgia. 🤧

Flora- 8/10

Not bad, but not my most favorite. Kudos to them to manage to make that green work with that shade of purple/pink. I like the belt on her waist, it's giving very much 2000s. I really like the flower details on her cropped denim jacket, but imo, the og Winx flora had better fashion... ;-;

yap ur opinions about their outfits, cause I wanna see what ya'll think.

[nerdraging4point0]

Power Play // Chapter 1 // Hockeyplayer!Noah AU

Header by @ladyveronikawrites

Tropes and tags: RPF:AU hockey player romance, angsty romance, hidden relationship, forbidden relationship, smutty, MF, multiple POV. 

Content Warning: angsty romance, hockey player shenanigans, locker room talk, smutty, aggressive hockey players, PinV, MF relationship, possessive male, protective male.

This work below is fictionalized ideas and stories involving real people but does not directly reflect their thoughts, feelings, or behaviors. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction.

Active taglist: @ladyveronikawrites @tearfallpixie @beaker1636 @circle-with-me @synthetic-wasp-570 @itsjustemily @thesazzb @vinyardmauro @cookiesupplier @concreteemo @mountains-to-move @sundamariis @caitcoreeeee @crimson-calligraphyx @letmeadoreyoux @starsomens @artificialbreezy @lma1986 @iknownothingpeople @lilrubles @shilohrosechicken @missduffsblog @jessicafg03 @thatchickwiththecamera @mysticdoodlez @chels3a-smile @sinkingteethinwhitenoise @deathblacksmoke @roley-poley-foley @ravieisunhinged @dethronetheveil @to-be-written @somewhere-diamond @somebodyels3 @sacredthefran @cncohshit @flowery-mess @graveatspeople @cncohshit @nerdywitch20 @sundamariis @srorgana1 @malerieee @bloody-delusion-expert @sammyjoeee @deathofpeaceofmiiind @hayleylatour @deadboltsblog @broken0mens

I sank into the faded beige couch in our cozy two-bedroom apartment, soaking in the last moments before everything would change. Through the open window, the sweet scent of yesterday’s rain drifted in on a gentle breeze, reminding me of all the lazy spring days spent here with friends. Marissa plopped down beside me, and I felt a pang in my heart realizing how much I would miss this—being with her, my best friend and rock through the chaos of senior year. Now, a few months out after graduation, a bittersweet nostalgia washed over me. I etched each detail into my memory: the worn fabric beneath my fingertips, the birdsongs outside, Marissa's quiet presence. Soon we'd close this chapter, but the memories we made within these walls would blossom in our hearts for years to come.

The last four years of nursing school had flown by in a blur of late nights studying and early mornings in clinicals. Now with our bachelor's degrees finally in hand, my best friend and I found ourselves at a crossroads. Where did we go from here? I was tempted to jump right into a job at the hospital we'd done rotations at, but ultimately decided a few months off would do me good. Time to decompress after the whirlwind of college, and spend some much-needed quality time with my dad before launching into my nursing career. Though the future felt wide open and uncertain, I knew this break would help me recharge and figure out my next steps. 

I gaze at my suitcases lined up by the door, like soldiers ready for battle. The rest of my belongings sit sealed away in cardboard coffins, soon to be shipped off to my father's house. In a few short hours, I'll board the plane home, leaving this chapter of my life behind.

I glance anxiously at my phone. The Uber is ten minutes away, coming to ferry me to the airport and the imminent end of my time here. Ten final minutes before my ship sinks into the sea of memories.

Part of me thrills at the thought of going home. But another part dreads that I won't summon the courage to uproot myself again as I did to come here. I feel caught between the familiar comforts of home and the terrifying freedom of the unknown.

As the minutes tick down, the nerves and sadness swell within me like the tide. I'm unsure if I'm ready to leave, but the choice has been made. My bags are packed. The car is on its way. My ship is sinking, and it's time to go down with it.

Marissa grasps my hand, intertwining our fingers in a familiar, comforting way. "This is just a new chapter for us," she says gently. "You know we'll find our way back to each other soon. Just give me a few months to settle into my new job, and I'll come out to Cali for a long overdue visit." Her words wrap around me like a warm hug, reassuring me that our bond can weather any storm.

As we stand from the couch and fall into a tight embrace, I can't help but feel a pang in my heart. Her messy bun tickles my nose, and the familiar scent of cleaning products and lavender clings to her old sweats and university tee. We had spent all day tidying the apartment, scrubbing away remnants of late nights gossiping over takeout and movie marathons. With each swipe of the washcloth, another memory got wiped away.

My phone pings, the Uber waiting to take me to the airport. I cling to her a little tighter, not yet ready to let go of my best friend. We'd been through so much together in this little apartment - late night study sessions, tears after bad breakups, celebrations after every accomplishment. And now we had to say goodbye.

I feel her tears dampen my shoulder as we sway back and forth, the unspoken "I'll miss you" hanging thick in the air. This isn't the end, I know, but as we finally pull away and I gather my bags, my heart breaks nonetheless. One chapter was closing, but a new adventure awaits for both of us.

She helps carry my bags down to the curb where the driver puts them into the trunk of his SUV. We exchange one more hug and a few tears before I climb in the backseat, waving goodbye out of the tinted window till she is out of sight. I pull out my phone shooting a quick text to my dad that i’m on the way to the airport. He wasn’t so much of a worrier, but he’d be upset if I didn’t at least warn him. 

The afternoon sun peeks through the clouds as I drive down I-5, weaving past exits for Tacoma and Federal Way. The leaves on the tree limbs turning a faded shade already line the highway, a sure sign of Autumn in Seattle. Before I know it, I'm pulling up to Departures at Tacoma International Airport, the scent of coffee and jet fuel mingling in the air. Two overstuffed suitcases roll alongside me while my backpack bounces on my shoulders.

After checking my bags, I meander through the terminal, watching businesspeople rush to their gates while families herd overexcited kids onto flights. My flight isn't for another hour, so I find a seat by the window overlooking the tarmac. Planes taxi and take off as I confirm my hotel reservation. I could've stayed at my dad's place, but I know by now my old bedroom has likely become his at-home office. Anyway, it'll be nice to have some independence on this trip back home.

The call comes over the intercom: "Now boarding Flight 784 to LAX." I grab my carry-on and hustle to the gate, eager to secure my window seat near the front. The line inches forward as passengers jam the jetbridge, jostling for position. I finally reach my row and hoist my bag into the overhead bin. As I plop into my seat, I peek out the oval window at the tarmac below. Ground crew in neon vests scurry around the plane, making final checks. The cabin door slams shut, and we lurch into motion. The engines rumble as we gather speed, pressing me back into the headrest. My pulse quickens in that familiar pre-flight rush. The nose tilts up, and we're airborne! Home, here I come!

The LA sun hangs low in a hazy orange sky as I collapse into the hotel room's plush queen bed, weary from a day of travel. Cleaning and packing left me exhausted, so I had to cancel dinner plans with Dad despite his obvious excitement on the phone. He mentioned some "proposal" he has for me - likely another attempt to get me to ditch the hotel and stay at his place instead. But this modest room has everything I need - soft carpets, textured walls, and pillows galore.

After a long day, the thought of going back out into the bustling city streets makes me weary. I decide to unwind in the cozy confines of my hotel room instead. Stepping into the shower, I turn the heat up high, letting the warm water envelope my tired muscles. As steam fills the air, I feel the stress of the day wash away. Wrapped in a plush robe, I settle into the comfy armchair and flip on the TV. The sports channel is covering the latest NFL news - the FortyNiners are gearing up for a big pre season. But soon they switch over to hockey, and my ears perk up. It's an update on my dad's team! I lean in, eager to catch every detail and stat. The lively commentary of the sportscasters fills the room as I relax into the overstuffed cushions. 

"Folks, the Rooks are looking like a force to be reckoned with this season," the announcer says with enthusiasm. She’s blonde, wearing a gray suit and enough makeup to cover her crows feet and forehead wrinkles,  "Coach Brody has lit a fire under this team during preseason and you can see it in the intensity of their practices and scrimmages. The offense is clicking and putting up big numbers, but don't overlook the tenacious defense - whether it's the starting unit or the backups on the ice, these guys are shutting down opponents left and right. The Rooks are hungry for a championship and have all the pieces to make a deep playoff run. If they keep up this level of play, we could be in for an electric season with the Rooks!"

The Rooks take to the ice, a blur of black jerseys with fiery red numbers, names shining under the arena lights. Skates slice and sticks flash as they circle the rink, putting on a show for the cameras. 

“Goalie McClain is a steel wall with his saves.” the announcer gushes as the footage switches to practice - the puck rockets toward McClain's net but the goalie drops, gloves flung wide to make the save. You can almost hear the ice spray and skate blades carve as the team flies around the rink, hockey poetry in motion. The Rooks glide and dash in a choreographed dance, aggressive and graceful all at once, as their dark uniforms and gear mesh into a cohesive force.

The defense barrels towards their opponents with unrelenting intensity, their eyes locked in a fierce glare. "Sanchez is proving himself as the team's starting center this season," the announcer declares, her voice rising with excitement. "Sebastian and Karlsson - the league's top defense duo - are an unstoppable force!"

A tender smile spreads across my face as I gaze at my father's team, my heart swelling with pride. My phone chimes softly, lighting up with a new message from the coach. 

Dad (04:45PM): Visitor pass will be at the front desk of your hotel in the morning. Should get you into the rink for the game on Saturday and tomorrow. Come down to the rink after four, we will grab some dinner once I'm done with practice. 

Curled up under my warm blankets, I open my phone to a new Snap from Marissa. Her selfie pops up on my screen, a pouty expression across her face with the words "miss you" scribbled in playful handwriting. I can't help but smile, picturing her exaggerated faux sadness at our time apart.

The sun melts into the horizon, casting an amber glow over the Los Angeles skyline. Palm trees dance in the gentle evening breeze as the city begins to wind down for the night. The view from my hotel is stunning, with the skyscrapers silhouetted against the vibrant sunset. I open the blinds to take it all in, the concrete jungle transformed into a sea of gilded light. There's a magic in the air at this time of day, a tranquil beauty that washes over the urban landscape. For a moment, the hectic pace of LA seems to fade away. I breathe deeply and let the fading light soothe my soul, appreciating the simple joy of a perfect sunset over the city of angels.

[nolita-fairytale]

comfort & chaos | carmy berzatto x fem!reader | chapter five: called you again

summary: you and carmy try your best to repair the relationship... but it only leads to distance. you both make the mistake thinkin' the other is better of without you. (the five times carmen berzatto fell in love with you a little and the one time he finally told you)

warnings: angst, death, grief, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns, drinking & smoking, suggestive language

word count: 3.5k

listen to: supercut - lorde | speechless - lady gaga | call me back - young the giant | called you again - lizzy mcalpine

a/n: while i felt like i was dropping an emotional bomb on you with the last chapter, i didn't know it would have such an emotional impact. i just wanted to share that i write so much from my own experiences -- perhaps why some of the chapters feel so realistic. anyways, thank you for all of your kind words in regards to the last chapter. i didn't want to write the phone call, since after this part, 'make my heart surrender' begins / i write a bit of it in that story / it really made for a spicy dramatic ending.

on another note: it's me, hi! i broke my own heart writing this. high key like... i feel like i'm going through a breakup right now (i'm not). the next part will be a big time jump: it takes place after right after 'make my heart surrender' ends, where reader has just moved to chicago for carmy so you'll be glad to hear that i'm done hurting you and myself.

read: chapter four

April 2022 

“Seriously, Carmy. I can’t thank you enough. You really saved the day,” Maya harps, reminding Carmy for the 100th time today that he single-handedly saved Passover. 

“It’s nothin’ really,'' Carmy mumbles with a shrug. “I’m uh… gonna finish cleaning up in the kitchen. Shouldn’t take long.”

“Sure I can’t help?” Maya asks, giving him one last chance to say ‘yes.’

“No, it’s all good. I got a whole system,” he explains, a reassuring look in his eyes. 

“Of course,” Maya replies, bowing out of the conversation. 

She walks through her home towards the open double terrace doors that lead out onto the patio. You’re outside, shifted to one side of the large outdoor dining table, your focus unbroken as you stack empty plates, one on top of the other.

“Hey,” you say to her, a warm nostalgia about the way the spring air kisses your bare shoulders. 

“So… Carmy really came through,” she starts, watching you for your reaction. 

“Yeah, he did,” you reply simply, as if it’s just fact.

Maya half expects for you to say more, but she knows it’s been weird between the two of you since you slept together. She’s not sure why, but she’s always rooted for Carmy. Perhaps because you light up every time he’s around – every time you talk about him. Perhaps because she sees the way he looks at you, especially when he thinks you’re not looking. Because, even though he’s deeply imperfect, you’re good for him – and he, you. 

“It’s all for you, you know,” she says, growing bolder in her reminder. 

Her words stop you in your tracks. You stop working on the pile of dishes you’re creating, taking a moment to look up at your friend. 

“Why do you think that?” you ask quietly. 

“Because he took the night off to be here,” she answers, checking to make sure Carmy isn’t listening. “I mean, when have any of us seen him take any time off? He’s not doing it for me. I just think… it seems like he’s really making an effort to mend things.”

You nod slowly, processing what she’s just said. Carmy, in an effort to try to mend things, had joined you for a drink with some of your mutual friends from the restaurant. As Maya had lamented about the caterer falling through for her Passover dinner, he’d more than eagerly offered to step in, surprising all of you. 

“Maybe,” you shrug, trying not to get your hopes up. “I don’t know. It’s still not the way it used to be.”

“Well of course it’s not!” Maya exclaims with a laugh. She sighs out your name, shaking her head as she continues. “You guys are… of course that would change things.”

“I think it’s just going to take a while…” you explain, your voice soft. “I uh. I should take these in.”

You collect your pile of dishes, heading back inside into the kitchen. You know you’re avoiding having the conversation with Maya, but the distance between you and Carmy has been so tough on you. It wasn’t until you took some space from him that you realized just how big of a part he’d been playing in your life. And now, he was grieving, and you’d both crossed the line that had complicated things. 

It all just felt… messy. 

As you enter the kitchen, you see Carmy standing there. He’s staged the kitchen for the most efficient dishwashing: one half of the sink is filled with to sanitize, the other to rinse, before loading up the dishwasher. You place the first stack of plates down on the kitchen island, making a sound that doesn’t even seem to grab Carmy’s attention. He doesn’t turn to you, doesn’t acknowledge the sound, so you decide to keep moving things in from outside instead. 

You’ve managed to get all of the dirty dishes from the terrace into the kitchen, Carmy giving you a nod as he’d instructed you to place them down on the counter for him. 

You put your focus on packing up leftovers in deli containers and making sure all the food that needed to be has been put away. Carmy’s loaded up the dishwasher but he’s got at least a dozen wine glasses that he knows need to be hand washed. You notice that he’s taking a break, pushing yourself to ask him, as if it’s going to be your only chance to.

“How are you?” you say, instantly regretting it as the words come out of your mouth. 

He shrugs, unsure of how to answer the question, leaning up against the kitchen counter. You think it’s the only answer you’re going to get as he crosses his arms across his chest. You continue packing up the equipment that you and Carmy have brought over, while he manages to steal a few glances when he thinks you’re not looking. 

He’s not sure what to say. 

Hell, he doesn’t even know how he feels about it. 

But something inside him is begging him to tell you – as if telling you will give him some kind of resolution. Like he’ll know what to do. Like telling you will bring him the comfort he’s so desperately been craving. 

He opens his mouth to say something, noticing that you’ve kept yourself busy – almost as if you’re trying to stay out of his way. 

He hates this. 

He hates that you feel you have to tiptoe around him. 

“Mikey left me the restaurant,” he confesses, the words tumbling out of his mouth like five hundred pounds of bricks. 

“Oh wow,” you gasp, taking in what he’s said. 

He nods, pausing before he speaks again. And it’s the first time he’s said it out loud to anyone:

“I think it’s time for me to go home.”

You don’t say anything back, because you’re not sure what to say back. You know he hadn’t gone home for the funeral, despite your insistence.

Why now? What did this mean? What would this mean? And when did he find out about the restaurant? You can’t help but feel like everything's falling apart, like this is the end. While you know he has to go home – you’re honestly surprised it’s taken him so long to come to this conclusion – it’s impossible not to feel your heart shattering into pieces. 

Carmy was going to leave. You were going to stay. And you didn’t know where that left the two of you. 

“Can I help – with the wine glasses?” you ask, focusing on the task at hand. 

Focusing on the glasses may be the only thing that keeps you from crying. 

“Yeah,” he nods, and you know it’s his way of trying to connect. 

You work quietly, the only sounds in the background are the dinner party playlist that’s playing on a loop through the home’s speakers. You wash and Carmy dries, knocking out the remaining dishes that need to be hand washed, before packing up to go. Maya, of course, thanks Carmy again and again, while her partner, Patrick, compliments the meal, letting Carmy know he’s got to get some cooking tips from him. 

As the two of you walk out of the door, brown paper bags loaded up with empty delis and equipment that you brought over to the house, Carmy stops before either of you can go your separate ways. 

“Can I walk you home?” Carmy asks you, a hopeful look in his eyes. 

You nod, “Yeah.”

May 

Hope you’re doing okay. How’s home?

It’s about the third text you’ve sent to Carmy since he left New York. After letting you know he’d made it safely, you hadn’t heard from him at all. Sure it’s only been a couple of weeks, but it’s like as soon as he let you know he’d made it safe, he’d cut you off cold. To say that you’re angry would be an understatement. 

You’re really fucking pissed off. 

And you also know that underneath all that anger, is a fuck ton of hurt that you’d really rather not acknowledge – that you’re not ready to feel yet.

You don’t know how he’s able to turn it off – just pretend that the last two and half years haven’t been significant. That you haven’t practically been attached at the hip since the lockdown. That you’re not best friends who also just so happen to maybe be in love with each other. 

Somehow, Liz has coaxed you out after a long night at the restaurant for a round of drinks with your coworkers. Something about a need to blow off some steam. Only a round has turned into many, and you just might have had one too many to forget about the searing pain you feel when you think about the fact that you may never hear from Carmy again. You’re waiting for your next drink at the bar, making a mental note that this has to be your last. 

“How’s Berzatto these days?” you hear a voice ask, turning your head as you realize someone’s joined you at the bar. 

“Uh.. yeah, I think he’s been really busy. You know… with the family restaurant. Getting adjusted, you know?” you lie to Nate, pretending that you’ve been in contact with him. 

Nothing would sting more than to admit to Nate fucking Walker that Carmy’s ghosted you. 

Nate laughs cooly, with a shake of his head. 

“He hasn’t called you, has he?” he asks. 

You don’t answer. But your silence is the only answer Nate needs to confirm his suspicions. 

“Listen, can we just talk about something else?” you dismiss him, watching as the bartender returns with your drink. 

The rest of your friends have started a game of pool, but you’re not in the mood for it tonight. Nate asks you to sit, so you do. You hate to admit it, but the attention feels nice, especially with how much you miss Carmy. It burns in your chest tonight, leaving you breathless. You’d rather be numb than feel this much pain. 

You’re not sure how the conversation turns back to Carmy after an hour or so of conversation with Nate. Even though you said you didn’t want to talk about him. Even though you can see that Nate’s tired of hearing about him. You can’t help yourself when it comes to Carmy. Every little thing reminds you of him, and he just keeps coming up like word vomit. 

“I thought you said you didn’t want to talk about him,” Nate reminds you. 

You shake your head, “I don’t!” 

Nate shoots you a look, before shaking his head, making sure to polish off the last of his drink. 

“He’s an idiot,” Nate scoffs with an eye roll. 

“Don’t say that,” you relent. 

“I mean it. He’s a fuckin’ idiot!” he exclaims again, turning much more serious. 

“Nate!” you protest lightly. 

“I mean it,” he repeats himself, holding piercing eye contact with you. 

Nate waits a beat, his eyes flickering from your lips back to your eyes as he leans in, lowering his voice. 

“He couldn’t even see a good thing when had it,” he croons, leaning in towards you. You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or the fact that you just want to feel wanted, but you feel woozy – hazy, you’re head spinning with lust as you contemplate kissing him. 

“Not even when it was right in front of him,” he adds, his lips so very close to yours. 

Nate’s always been good looking. Your eyes flicker to his full lips and deep brown eyes as he towers over you from where he sits, knowing that he wants to kiss you. He’s just the kind of guy that knows he’s good looking – something you find terribly annoying. 

“You’re so beautiful. I’m sorry that he can’t see it,” he practically whispers against your lips, so close that all the blood rushes to your head. 

It just feels good to be wanted, to be seen. So you surge forward, closing the gap between you. As you press your lips against his, you can feel Nate smiling into the kiss. He’s a smug bastard, but tonight, you don’t care. You entertain the kiss for a little longer. At this point, you could care less that you’ve garnered the attention of some of your coworkers, that you’re just making out with Nate fucking Walker out in the open for everyone to see. 

“You wanna go somewhere else? My place is around the corner,” he murmurs into the kiss.

“Sure,” you agree, you breath catching in your throat. 

“C’mon,” he encourages you, with a nod towards the door. 

Revenge, or the last of your gin cocktail, burns in your throat as you make a deal with the devil, following Nate out of the bar. 

June

Carmy’s phone buzzes again, catching his attention as he takes another drag from his cigarette. He’s got one missed call from Sugar, a voicemail, and a text with a link to that meeting she won’t stop nagging him to go to. He’s just about to put his phone back in his pocket as it buzzes again. 

He looks down. 

Shit. 

Fuck.

It’s a text from you. 

His heart stops beating for a moment, just for a second, and he freezes. 

Came across this article in the New Yorker about denim & rock n roll. Made me think of you. 

Carmy’s eyes scan over the title: From the Working Class to a Fashion Statement: John Lennon, Elvis Presley, & Other Icons That Brought Denim to the Mainstream. There’s a lump in his throat. He’s been so focused on the restaurant, so focused on fixing it, that it’s been easy to compartmentalize, push any thought of you out of his mind. But as his thumb hovers over the article, daring to open it, he can picture it all so vividly. His head is filled with the image of you walking down Bowery, a few paces in front of him, clad in your favorite denim jacket of his as you tell him to ‘hurry up.’ 

And just for a moment, it feels so real. He can practically smell the New York City air. He can hear your laugh as you bump into him in the small walkways of each mom-and-pop dumpling shop. He can almost feel your skin brush against his as you scoot by him on the way to your table.

It becomes harder to push the thoughts of you out of his mind, the sobering reality that it’s been at least a month and a half since he’s talked to you. 

She’s better off without me. Without this. Without all of this chaos, he thinks to himself. 

He hadn’t called, hadn’t texted, hadn’t been in touch on purpose, and he had to admit, it was killing him. There were days where all he wanted to do was call you, ask how you were doing – days where the only thing that would bring him comfort was imagining you running your fingers through his hair while he bitched about the restaurant. Days where he wanted nothing more than to curl up on the couch with you while you forced him to watch some violent action movie, and he’d watch you in awe. He’d call you a psychopath, when in reality, he was just in shock that someone like you could want to be around someone like him. 

Carmy wonders if you miss him – if it’s killing you too. 

But he doubts it. 

You’re a fucking mess, he thinks to himself, coming to conclusion that you’re better off without him. Without all of this… mess… grief… chaos. 

What would he even say?

Sorry I'm such a prick.

I don't know what the fuck I'm doing here.

I love you.

It becomes progressively easier to push his thoughts of you out of his mind, as he hyper-fixates on what needs to be done today: outsource bread, read over Sydney’s report because she’s probably right about the budget…. And what the fuck is KBL electric anyways? 

Now that the impulse is gone to text you back, Carmy shoves his phone into his pocket, shaking his head as he finishes his cigarette and reminds himself again:

You’re better off without him.

August 

“I don’t understand,” the exec chef says to you, his voice monotone. Something wild stirring behind his eyes in response to the notice that you’ve just given him. 

“My heart’s not in it,” you explain, hesitantly. “And I know you accept nothing less than perfection. I just… need some time to figure things out.”

“You’re not going to find another job like this,” he reminds you, coldly. 

You nod your head in response. You thought he’d say that. 

“I understand, chef,” you reply, using your tone of professionalism in your voice as a barrier. 

“I told her we could reevaluate in a month. I’m open to a rehire, should after your sabbatical, you come to the conclusion that here is where you need to be,” the head pastry chef adds. 

Sabbatical. 

Your head pastry chef is the only one using that word, as if they expect that you’ll come back. As if this is just a break. 

But it’s not a break to you. It’s a much needed change. 

Your exec chef thinks it over, his lips pressed together in a thin line. 

“You’re an exceptional pastry chef, but your lack of commitment worries me,” he states plainly. “You’ll have to interview again.”

“I understand, chef,” you repeat yourself. 

The conversation goes like this: you keep your cool, wanting nothing more than to get the conversation over it. It’s a daunting thing – quitting your dream job – enough as it is. Your head pastry chef fights for you, while the exec chef continues on his ego trip, as if you’re not sitting right in front of him. It’s not hard to tune him out. There’s a feeling inside of you, something telling you that you won’t be back, so the hoops he’s creating for you to jump through don’t seem to matter. 

Your feet hit the pavement as soon as the conversation is over, and you can’t get out of the restaurant fast enough. Dinner service prep had already begun, and as you’d left, you understood there would be questions, rumors, strange looks from your coworkers. But you knew this was right. 

Your heart hadn’t been in it for a while. 

Not since it left and moved to Chicago and decided not to call you back. 

You feel lost. 

It’s not just Carmy. It’s not just the big changes and shifts you’re experiencing. It’s everything. You don’t know what the hell it is you want. And you’re brave enough to go searching for it. 

You want nothing more than to call Carmy, to send him a text, for him to yell at you for quitting the job you both held in such high regard and tell you that you’re making a mistake. But the sting of the last time he ignored your call a few weeks ago stops you from picking up the phone.

Maybe he was only meant to be in your life for that chapter. 

Maybe, as you leave the restaurant behind, you’ll be able to let go of him too. 

Soon-To-Be Fall 

It had only been a few weeks since you’d quit the restaurant, in those few weeks, for the first time in a long time, you were at peace. You’d gotten loads of calls and texts: a ‘just want to check in’ from your head pastry chef, a ‘you doin’ okay?’ from Tim, and a series of ‘can’t take no for an answer’ texts from Nate that you have no plans to answer. 

The past few weeks have been filled with quiet. You’re enjoying your time, and you’re doing a whole lot of thinking about what it is you really want. You spend your Tuesday afternoon deep cleaning your apartment and listening to some of your comfort albums. It feels good to get to live slowly for once. It’s soon-to-be-Fall, even if the heat seems to be sticking around in New York City as of late. 

You hear a ping coming from your phone as you close up the container filled with sanitizing wipes that you’ve been using. Making your way over to your small studio kitchen, you see a text from Liz. 

Liz: I have the day off. Drinks & catching up?

You: Yeah. 7 pm?

Liz: Perf. I have restaurant goss. 👀

You chuckle in response to her text. Just as you’re preparing to type out a response, your phone buzzes again as a call comes through. 

‘Carmy.’ 

Carmy is calling you. 

Holy fuck.

It’s as if all the blood in your body rushes to your head and you have to try not to drop your phone. As it continues to ring, for a split second, you think about not answering. What if you didn’t? Send him to voicemail just like he’s done to you? But your curiosity gets the best of you as your thumb hovers over the ‘answer’ button. Had he heard? Was that what this was about? 

You answer the call before you can talk yourself out of it, immediately putting it on speaker. 

“Hi,” you say, your voice shaking a little. 

And it’s as if all your troubles melt away as you hear his voice.

“Hi,” he replies.

a/n: hello! yes, by popular demand i'll be writing the phone call as a drabble. however, my first series i wrote about carmy, 'make my heart surrender' picks up right where this chapter leaves off. chapter six will take places after that story, so for those of you that have not, feel free to read it while we wait (w baited breath of course) for the final chapter of this one.

read: chapter six

taglist: @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney @harrysmatcha @starbritestarlite @tpwkkmila @cool-girl-is-hot @nunya7394 @galaxyprincess51-blog @carmensberzattos @blue-weekends @rexorangecouny @ridingthehotmessexpress @the-nursery @strawberryalicia @astronautelilanded @veryplatoniccircunstances @fonteyn

[acute-crashout-jeyuso]

Sacrifices/ BTR Book 2: a Jhea fanfic.

Chapter 16: Valentine’s Day

February 14th, 2025 5:48PM

Liv finished adding the final touches to Rhea’s makeup, the soft glow of the light purple glitter highlighting her eyes. She smiled at the transformation, the face of her best friend illuminated with joy. Rhea sat back, admiring the work in the mirror.

“I haven’t done your makeup in so long,” Liv remarked, looking at Rhea with a proud grin.

“I missed it,” Rhea replied, her voice soft as she took in the sight of her reflection.

Liv chuckled. “Remember when I fixed your black lipstick when we got tossed out of the ring?” she asked, leaning in closer to ensure everything was perfect.

Rhea smiled, her eyes filled with nostalgia. “Yeah, you saved me. You’ve always had my back,” she said with a playful grin. “You know… if I didn’t retire, I wouldn’t have minded continuing to put you over.”

Liv stopped for a second, her eyes meeting Rhea’s through the mirror. “Rhea…” she began, her voice quiet.

Rhea turned her head slightly, meeting her best friend’s gaze. “You deserve it so much,” she said. “I love that you and Dom are dominating right now. You two have earned it.”

Liv smiled, feeling a surge of warmth in her chest. She stood up and wrapped her arms around Rhea. “I love you so much, girl,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Rhea hugged her back tightly. “I do too, times 10,” she whispered back. “Now let’s finish before Jey has an aneurysm from us lagging.”

As if on cue, Jey’s voice echoed from the doorway. “I love you, Rhea, but the limo will literally be here any minute.”

Liv shot a quick glance toward him before rolling her eyes playfully. “Alright, hold on!” she called, grabbing the final touch: a clear pink lip gloss. She applied it carefully to Rhea’s lips, making sure it was perfect.

Jey sighed, but he couldn’t hide the fondness in his voice. “Dom’s waiting on you Liv.”

Liv smirked, applying the gloss. “I know, I know, I know, I’m ready,” she said, giving Rhea one last smile. She looked up and winked. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.”

Suddenly, the sound of a car horn blared from outside. Jey’s eyes widened. He pulled out his phone, quickly glancing at the message from Jeremiah. “Babe. The limo’s here!”

Rhea stood, grabbing her purse and making her way to the door. “I know! I’m going!” she said, feeling the rush of excitement take over her.

She hugged Liv tightly. “Make sure Jeyce and Jaciyah are in their rooms before you two go! And check on them if you come back before us!”

Liv waved her off. “Go, go, go!” she urged with a grin. “We got it!”

Rhea took a step back and blew a kiss to both of them before heading out the door. Jey stood in the hallway, ready to usher her out the door as they both made their way toward the waiting limo. Liv quickly ran to check on the kids, a sense of responsibility kicking in.

As Rhea stepped into the limo, her heart raced with anticipation for the night ahead. She felt the weight of everything that had happened, everything that was yet to come—but for now, she was living in the moment. With Jey by her side, and the night filled with endless possibilities, she was ready to enjoy what life had in store.

The limo's soft hum and the city lights flickering outside faded into the background as Jey's attention was entirely on Rhea as the drive progressed. His eyes traced the elegant curve of her neck, the way the black leather dress molded to her body, accentuating her every movement.

It was a striking vision-Rhea, effortlessly beautiful, glowing in the dim light of the limo.

The way the fabric hugged her frame was nothing short of breathtaking, making her appear as if she belonged in a dream.

Jey's heart ached with the deep, unspoken love he had for her, something he had never imagined feeling so intensely for anyone. He admired her strength, her grace, and the quiet way she carried herself, especially now as she was navigating this new chapter of their lives-pregnant with their child. Though her belly had yet to show the signs of it, he could see how her body had subtly shifted, a reminder of the new life they were about to welcome. His eyes softened, a mixture of awe and pride swelling inside him.

Rhea shifted in her seat, sensing Jey's gaze on her. She turned to meet his eyes, her lips curling into a teasing smile. "Are you still there?" she asked softly, her voice filled with warmth, as if she knew exactly what was running through his mind.

Jey's heart skipped a beat at the sound of her voice, the playful tone grounding him in the moment. He reached out without a second thought, pulling her gently toward him, and their lips met in a slow, lingering kiss. It wasn't just a kiss—it was a conversation, a silent exchange that said everything words could never capture. In that one moment, Jey felt the depth of his emotions-how much he cherished her, how much he needed her, and how unbelievably lucky he was to share this life with her.

Pulling back slightly, he let his forehead rest against hers, his breath mingling with hers.

His voice was hushed, reverent. "I don't know how l'm so lucky to have you in my life," he confessed, his heart laid bare in those simple words. His fingers lightly brushed against her arm, tracing the soft curve of her skin. He had everything he could ever want— her love, their child on the way, and the promise of a future they would build together.

Rhea's heart swelled, her chest tightening at the tenderness in his words. It was moments like this-so raw and pure-that made her fall in love with him all over again. Her gaze softened as she smiled, eyes brimming with affection. "Joshua... I love you so much," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Every word felt like a vow, a testament to all the struggles they'd faced and the love that had blossomed between them, stronger than anything she had ever imagined.

Jey's heart pounded in his chest as she spoke, her words wrapping around him like a warm embrace. He leaned in, unable to resist the pull between them. His kiss this time was deeper, more urgent, as if he needed to remind her of the depth of his feelings-how much she meant to him, how she had transformed his life in ways he couldn't express.

As his hands roamed over her skin, the soft warmth of her body against his sent a wave of emotion rushing through him. Her skin was like butter-so soft, so delicate-and it felt as though everything inside him was awakening to the touch. He could feel the way she responded to him, her body leaning into his as they kissed, her hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer. It was as though the entire world outside didn't exist anymore-there was only the two of them, wrapped up in each other, in their love.

For a moment, everything was still. Rhea's breath hitched, and her pulse quickened at the way Jey's hands caressed her, at the way he made her feel like she was the only one who mattered. She had never felt so seen, so loved, so cherished. Her heart raced with the certainty that this-right here, right now— was everything she had ever dreamed of.

She had found her person, and in his arms, she felt invincible. There was a peace between them, a quiet understanding that no matter what challenges they faced, no matter how their lives would change with the new addition they were expecting, they had each other. And that was enough.

"I love you, Joshua," she murmured, her voice a soft promise.

Jey kissed her again, this time slower, savoring the moment, knowing deep down that these moments-these quiet, tender exchanges-were the ones he would treasure forever. His hands cupped her face, as if trying to imprint the feeling of her into his very soul. "I love you more, Demi," he whispered back, his heart swelling with emotion. As the limo continued to glide through the streets, the world outside felt miles away.

The limo eventually slowed to a smooth stop in front of Table 104, a sophisticated restaurant known for its exquisite ambiance and attention to detail. The driver stepped out, rounded the vehicle, and opened the door with a slight bow. Jey exited first, offering his hand to Rhea as she stepped out gracefully. The evening breeze was cool, carrying a faint scent of salt from the nearby ocean.

Hand in hand, the couple entered the restaurant, where the soft hum of conversation and clinking glassware filled the air. A hostess greeted them warmly at the podium.

“Good evening, welcome to Table 104,” she said with a smile. “Do you have a reservation?”

Jey nodded confidently. “Yes, reservation for two under Fatu.”

The hostess spoke into her headset, her voice polite and efficient. Moments later, the restaurant manager appeared, dressed impeccably in a tailored suit. His demeanor exuded professionalism, but his smile was warm and inviting.

“Mr. and Mrs. Fatu,” the manager greeted, extending a hand toward Jey before gesturing toward Rhea, who blushed at the manager calling her Mrs. “please, follow me.”

Jey and Rhea followed him down a dimly lit hallway, their footsteps muffled by the plush carpeting. The manager opened a set of double doors, revealing a private dining room that looked like a scene from a romantic dream. Endless arrangements of flowers adorned the room, cascading over the edges of tables, lining the walls, and filling the air with their intoxicating fragrance. The centerpiece was a single round table draped in white linen, illuminated by the soft glow of a crystal chandelier overhead.

Rhea’s hand instinctively tightened around Jey’s as she took in the breathtaking display. She turned to him, her eyes shining with emotion. “It looks just like…” Her voice trailed off as her gaze swept across the room.

Jey smiled, leaning in close. “Just like in The Great Gatsby, babe,” he finished for her, his voice soft but filled with pride.

Rhea’s heart swelled as she turned toward him and kissed him gently, her hand brushing against his cheek. “You never stop amazing me, Joshua.”

The manager discreetly cleared his throat, guiding them to their table. He pulled out Rhea’s chair first, ensuring she was seated comfortably before gesturing for Jey to sit across from her. Once they were settled, he spoke with genuine care.

“Your personal server will be with you momentarily. And mam’,” he added, addressing Rhea with a smile, “your fiancé informed us of your exciting news, so we’ve taken extra precautions. All cooking utensils, pans, and oils used for your meal tonight have been meticulously prepared to avoid any cross-contamination, particularly with seafood containing mercury.”

Rhea’s expression softened with gratitude. “Thank you so much,” she said sincerely.

The manager inclined his head. “It’s our pleasure. Please enjoy your evening,” he said before leaving them in privacy.

Rhea looked across the table at Jey, her fingers tracing the edge of the fine crystal glass in front of her. “You told them about the pregnancy?” she asked, her voice filled with both surprise and admiration.

Jey shrugged modestly, though the grin on his face gave him away. “Of course I did. You and the baby come first, always.”

Rhea’s heart swelled as she leaned across the table and took his hand in hers. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

Jey chuckled softly, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “I’m just trying to keep up with you, babe.”

—

Meanwhile, on the waterfront, Dom had his hands gently covering Liv’s eyes, guiding her carefully along the dock. The soft lapping of waves against the wooden planks filled the air, along with the distant sound of seagulls. Liv giggled nervously.

“Dom,” she said, her tone half-warning, half-laughing, “if you push me in the water, I swear I’ll—”

Before she could finish, Dom removed his hands and said with a wide grin, “Surprise.”

Liv blinked as her vision adjusted, her jaw dropping at the sight before her. Anchored at the edge of the dock was an elegant, fully lit private yacht. The sleek vessel was adorned with delicate fairy lights, and on the deck, a waiting staff stood dressed in crisp uniforms, ready to welcome them aboard. The setting sun cast a warm golden glow over the scene, and the faint sound of soft music floated through the air.

Liv turned back to Dom, her eyes wide with delight. “A private dinner on a boat?” she exclaimed, barely containing her excitement.

Dom smirked, a spark of pride glinting in his eyes. Before he could respond, Liv let out an excited squeal and launched herself into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist as she peppered kisses all over his face.

“You’re the best!” she said breathlessly, pulling back just enough to beam at him. “My daddy Dom!”

Dom laughed, his hands steadying her against him. “Only the best for my girl,” he said, his voice warm and filled with affection.

Liv kissed him again, this time more deeply, before hopping back down and grabbing his hand. Her infectious smile hadn’t faded as she tugged him toward the boat, practically skipping. “Come on! Let’s get on this thing before I pass out from excitement!”

Dom chuckled, letting her pull him along. As they reached the edge of the dock, a member of the staff extended a hand to help Liv up the short gangplank. She stepped aboard the yacht with Dom following close behind, his hand never leaving hers.

The deck was set up with a single, exquisitely decorated table for two, complete with candles flickering in glass lanterns, an array of flowers, and a chilled bottle of champagne in an ice bucket. The warm ambiance was perfect, and Liv couldn’t stop taking it all in, spinning around to see every detail.

“This is…wow,” Liv said softly, her eyes sparkling as she turned to face Dom. “You really went all out, huh?”

Dom shrugged, a modest grin on his face. “You deserve it. I wanted to make tonight special for you.”

Liv stepped closer, wrapping her arms around his neck as she looked up at him with a tenderness that made his heart melt. “You make every night special, Dom,” she said, her voice filled with happiness.

Dom leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead before pulling her into a warm embrace. “Then let’s make tonight unforgettable.”

As they settled at their table, the yacht’s engine purred to life, and the boat began to glide smoothly out onto the water. The city skyline shimmered in the distance, and the stars slowly began to emerge overhead, setting the perfect stage for their evening.

—

After Rhea and Jey had left, and after Liv did her final check-in with Jaciyah and Jeyce, the house fell into a calm stillness. Jeyce waited patiently until he was sure Liv and Dom had left for their evening plans. Once the coast was clear, he quietly opened his closet and pulled out the outfit Dom and Jeremiah picked out for him.

Jeyce grinned to himself as he got dressed, his heart racing with a mixture of excitement and nerves. At twelve years old, this was the first time he had planned something like this—a secret dance with Demi.

After fixing his collar in the mirror, Jeyce grabbed his laptop and checked the time. Just as he did, an instant message from Demi popped up on the screen:

“Come over! He just left!”

Jeyce’s grin widened. He quickly glanced out his window, spotting Jeremiah doing his final patrol around the property. Timing was everything. Once Jeremiah rounded the far corner of the house, Jeyce swung his leg out the window and climbed down the trellis, his movements quiet and practiced. Landing softly on the ground, he crouched for a moment to make sure no one had heard him.

Sticking to the shadows and avoiding the security cameras, Jeyce snuck around the side of the house, careful not to alert his uncles, who were chatting animatedly near the edge of the property. He made his way to the lowest part of the perimeter gate, where he had stashed a step stool earlier that day. With a quick climb, he was over the gate and on the other side, his heart pounding with exhilaration.

As soon as he was a safe distance away from the house, Jeyce straightened his shirt, smoothed his hair, and started walking casually down the trail toward Demi’s house. Along the way, he spotted a bush of vibrant yellow roses blooming in front of a neighbor’s yard. The sight sparked an idea. He glanced around to make sure no one was watching, then carefully plucked one of the flowers by the stem. It wasn’t perfect, but it was something.

Flower in hand, Jeyce arrived at Demi’s house a few minutes later and knocked on her door. He tried to play it cool, but his palms were sweating, and his heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest.

When the door opened, Jeyce froze. Demi stood in front of him, looking stunning in a black dress that shimmered softly under the porch light. Her hair thrown in a braid and her makeup was subtle, only some eyeliner and mascara but to Jeyce, she looked like a real-life princess.

He swallowed hard and held out the yellow rose. “Uh, this is for you,” he said, his voice cracking slightly.

Demi’s eyes lit up as she took the rose with a warm smile. “Thank you, Jeyce,” she said, her voice kind and full of affection. “You look so handsome.”

Jeyce felt his face heat up. “You look… really pretty,” he managed to say, his voice emitting a small stutter.

Demi held Jeyce’s hand with a playful grin, pulling him inside her house. The warm light from the living room filled the space, giving it a cozy, intimate feel. She quickly pushed the coffee table to the side, clearing a spot for the two of them to move around. With a glance at Jeyce, she smiled and hit play on the stereo. The soft, familiar strum of “There Is a Light That Never Goes Out” by The Smiths filled the room.

Jeyce’s eyes lit up when the first few notes played, and he laughed nervously, but Demi only encouraged him with a wink.

“Ready?” she asked, her voice light with excitement.

Without waiting for an answer, she pulled Jeyce into the center of the room, their hands still clasped tightly. Instead of swaying, the two of them started to move with the beat, their bodies responding instinctively to the music. Demi laughed as she spun in a circle, pulling Jeyce along with her. He stumbled a bit but quickly found his balance, matching her energy.

“Like this!” Demi said, making exaggerated dance moves, her arms flailing in the air. Jeyce couldn’t help but laugh, his nervousness fading as he mirrored her actions, adding a few wild moves of his own. He twirled and dipped, feeling a sense of freedom that made his heart race with excitement.

They moved across the floor, laughing loudly as they danced out of sync with each other but still in tune with the rhythm of the song. Demi jumped up and down, pulling Jeyce to do the same. His laughter grew as he jumped along, completely caught up in the moment.

“You’re not bad at this!” Jeyce teased, grinning as Demi did a playful spin, her hair flying out behind her.

Demi grinned back, her eyes sparkling. “I’m a pro,” she joked, giving him a quick wink before they both broke into another round of ridiculous dancing, kicking their feet and swaying their arms with abandon.

Jeyce’s chest ached from laughing so hard. There was something freeing about this, something so simple and carefree that he couldn’t help but feel a rush of joy. It was like the whole world had disappeared, and there was just him and Demi, laughing, dancing, and having fun together.

At one point, Jeyce broke into a little slide across the floor, his arms outstretched like he was gliding on ice. Demi followed with a dramatic twirl, spinning into a series of jumps that made Jeyce laugh even harder. They were a blur of movement, their bodies working together in perfect chaos.

The song played on, its mellow tone mixing with their wild energy. They were dancing without a care, the music wrapping around them like a thread that bound them together in the moment. Jeyce never wanted it to end. It felt like they were the only two people in the world, and for a moment, nothing else mattered but their laughter and the fun they were having.

Demi caught her breath, her arms still moving to the beat as she looked at Jeyce. “You’re not so bad yourself!” she said between laughs.

Jeyce flashed her a grin, his face flushed but his spirit high. “I think I’m getting the hang of it!” he said, doing a goofy little dance move that made them both giggle uncontrollably.

And in that moment, dancing with Demi, everything felt just right.

—

As Jey and Rhea finished the last bite of their dinner, the server returned with a tray holding a delicate dessert, a small smile on their face. “Monsieur and Madame,” the server announced, “I present you our award-winning cannoli. Enjoy.”

Rhea’s eyes lit up as she took the first bite, savoring the rich sweetness of the filling and the delicate crunch of the shell. “This is amazing,” she said, her voice full of appreciation.

Jey took a bite as well, wiping a small amount of powdered sugar from his hands. “We’re definitely learning how to make these,” he said with a grin. “These are too good to not be in our kitchen.”

They both continued to savor the cannoli, exchanging playful glances between bites, both wrapped up in the intimacy of the moment. The dessert, just like the dinner, had been nothing short of perfect, and it was only made better by the soft ambiance of the private room around them.

As they finished the dessert, the door to their room opened once again, and the manager walked in, leading a woman with an elegant harp. The woman gently set the harp down and adjusted her music stand. The manager turned to Jey with a smile. “Mr. Fatu, your request is here,” he said.

Jey nodded in appreciation, smiling as he stood up from his seat. “Thank you,” he said softly.

He then looked at Rhea, his eyes full of love and a touch of mischief. “Join me in creating another memory?” he asked, his voice low and inviting.

Rhea’s heart fluttered as she gazed at him, then at the harpist, who had begun to play a soft, melodic tune. She smiled and nodded, feeling her pulse quicken in anticipation.

Jey extended his hand to her, and she took it without hesitation. They stepped into the center of the room, their movements fluid and synchronized, as if they had been dancing to this song for years.

The enchanting melody of "Young and Beautiful" by Lana Del Rey began to fill the space, and Rhea's heart skipped a beat. This was their song, the one that had come to symbolize so many moments between them.

As they began to sway together, Rhea rested her head against Jey’s chest, her eyes closing as she let the music wrap around them. The gentle strums of the harp were like whispers between their souls, each note pulling them closer together. Jey’s hand was warm on her back, guiding her in the dance, his other hand holding hers with a tenderness that made her feel cherished.

Rhea smiled softly, her fingers lightly tracing the fabric of Jey’s shirt. She could feel the rhythm of his heart, steady and strong. They moved as one, their problems in the outside world fading until it was just them, the music, and the feeling of being completely in sync.

Jey leaned down slightly, his lips brushing against her ear. “You’re perfect, you know that?” he whispered, the words only meant for her.

Rhea couldn’t help but smile, her heart swelling with emotion. “I love you..” she murmured, the words as natural as breathing.

He smiled back, his lips brushing against her forehead as they continued to sway in the soft glow of the room, “I love you always..” the harp’s music echoing around them like a dream. This was a moment neither of them would forget, a moment of peace and connection in the middle of the chaos of their lives.

As the song came to an end, Jey pulled back slightly, his hands still on Rhea’s waist as he looked at her. He could see the joy in her eyes, the happiness that only came when they were together.

“Another perfect memory,” he said softly, his voice filled with contentment.

Rhea smiled up at him, her heart full. “Another perfect memory,” she agreed.

—

Back To The Old House by The Smiths played softly in the background, the calm melodies contrasting sharply with the tension building between Demi and Jeyce. After a two hours of dancing and talking, they had finally sat down on the couch, both feeling content but exhausted. The night had been fun, and Jeyce couldn’t help but smile as he looked at Demi.

“I really loved spending time with you tonight,” Jeyce said, his voice sincere. He didn’t know how to explain how much it meant to him. She was someone special, and tonight had felt like something out of a dream.

Demi’s smile was warm and genuine. “I loved it too,” she replied, her eyes meeting his. There was a softness to her gaze that made Jeyce’s heart flutter. They sat in silence for a moment, enjoying the comfort of each other’s presence.

They leaned in gently, almost instinctively, their faces drawing closer. It felt natural, the space between them shrinking until their lips finally met. The kiss was a soft, hesitant peck, but it lingered longer than either of them had expected. Neither of them pulled away, as if time itself had slowed down for that one perfect moment. Jeyce felt the warmth of her lips against his, and it was everything he had imagined. Demi’s hands rested on his shoulders, both of them holding on to the moment as if it were a secret that only they shared.

But before Jeyce could move his lips, a loud voice erupted, breaking the spell.

“Demetria Bartley!”

Both Jeyce and Demi jerked apart, their eyes wide in shock. Neither had heard the door open, but now there stood Mr. Bartley, fuming with anger. Demi’s face went pale, and panic rushed through her. Her heart pounded in her chest as her father walked toward them, his fury evident in his every step.

“Dad!” Demi said, her voice shaky. She tried to explain, but Mr. Bartley wasn’t listening. In an instant, he pulled Demi away from Jeyce, his grip firm and angry.

Jeyce stood up quickly, his voice trembling as he tried to defend himself. “We didn’t do anything! We were just—”

“Go to your room, now!” Mr. Bartley snapped at Demi, cutting Jeyce off with a cold tone. He didn’t wait for Demi to respond; his anger had already taken over, and he wasn’t about to let his daughter get away with what he thought was inappropriate behavior.

Demi, still in shock, looked at Jeyce with a mix of fear and apology in her eyes. She opened her mouth to say something but hesitated, knowing there was nothing she could do in that moment. Reluctantly, she walked toward her room, her head down.

Jeyce felt his heart sink. This was all happening so fast. He had just shared a special moment with Demi, and now it was being torn away from him. He looked at Mr. Bartley, who was glaring at him as he turned toward the door.

“Come on,” Mr. Bartley ordered, his voice laced with anger. “I’m taking you to your parents.”

Jeyce nodded silently, his stomach twisting. He didn’t know what was going to happen next, but he followed Mr. Bartley out of the house. His mind raced, his thoughts jumbled. He wished he could have stayed with Demi, but now everything had been ruined.

As they reached the car, Mr. Bartley started questioning him. “Where are your parents, anyway? Do they know you’re sneaking around in my house?”

Jeyce swallowed, trying to keep his voice steady. “No, sir. They’re out.”

Mr. Bartley huffed, clearly not satisfied with the answer. “Is there anyone at your house?”

Jeyce hesitated, then replied, “My three uncles.”

Mr. Bartley frowned at that. “Did you get their permission?”

“No, sir,” Jeyce answered, his voice showing his fear.

They drove in silence for a while, the tension thick between them. Jeyce could feel his palms sweating, anxiety gnawing at him. The house he lived in was vast and imposing, surrounded by a gated property, but it had never felt more like a prison than now. Jeyce watched as Mr. Bartley pulled up to the gate, taking in the surroundings. Despite his anger, there was a slight shift in his demeanor, as if he was momentarily impressed by the size of the estate.

“Nice house, kid,” Mr. Bartley muttered, his tone softer now but still tinged with irritation.

Jeyce’s eyes flicked toward the gate as he spotted Jeremiah walking along the edge of the property. “That’s my uncle Jeremiah,” Jeyce said, trying to stay calm and keep the conversation from escalating.

Mr. Bartley gave a brief nod but didn’t respond. The tension in the air was thick as he parked the car, and Jeyce could feel his stomach churn with unease.

As they got out of the car, Mr. Bartley’s frustration hadn’t waned. Jeremiah approached the gate and saw Jeyce. Mr. Bartley looked at Jeremiah, his tone clipped and demanding. “I want to speak to Jeyce’s father. Now.”

Jeyce’s heart raced as they walked toward the front gate. This wasn’t how he imagined his night would end. His thoughts flickered to Demi, and a part of him felt desperate to see her again, to explain everything to her father. But for now, all he could do was follow Mr. Bartley and hope that the consequences wouldn’t be as bad as he feared.

—

Jey and Rhea were lost in each other's arms, the warmth of their bodies pressing together in the back of the limo. The atmosphere between them was electric, the chemistry undeniable after a perfect night filled with laughter, romance, and memories. Their lips met once more in a heated kiss, the moment stretching out, making everything else fade into the background.

Jey deepened the kiss, his hands moving to Rhea's back, pulling her closer. It felt like the world had stopped, and all that mattered was them, locked in a perfect embrace.

“God I could feel you..” Rhea murmured as she felt Jey’s member against her. Jey broke the kiss and he pulled her to straddle him. Jey kissed her neck and Rhea moaned as he began to suck on it, attempting to leave a love mark. “Im not wearing any underwear..” Jey pulled back and he said, “You are so fucking naughty..” They kissed once more, their needs urgent, but just as Jey was about to extend the moment further, the sudden vibration of his phone broke through the haze of desire.

Jey pulled back reluctantly, looking down at his phone, and saw that it was Jeremiah calling. He let out a quiet groan, frustrated that the night was about to take a turn. Still, he managed to kiss Rhea's forehead gently before answering the call.

"Hold on, babe," Jey murmured, his voice still thick with the aftermath of their kiss. Rhea nodded, wiping her lips with a playful smile as she got off of Jey, watching him with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

Jey answered the phone quickly. "Jeremiah, what's going on?"

Jeremiah's voice came through with urgency.

"Jey, it's bad. Jeyce sneaked out. He was at Demi's, and they-"

Jey's heart skipped a beat. "What happened?" he asked, his voice tight.

"He was caught kissing Demi by her dad. Now Demi's dad is demanding to speak with you," Jeremiah explained, his words tumbling out. "He's pissed, Jey. He wants you here now."

Jey took a deep breath, his mind racing.

"Alright, I'm on my way. Let him in, I'll be there in about ten minutes. Don't let Demi's dad leave."

He ended the call and leaned back into the seat, running a hand through his hair, trying to collect his thoughts. The last thing he wanted was to be dragged into a confrontation, especially not after such a perfect evening with Rhea.

"What am I gonna do with this kid?" Jey muttered to himself, shaking his head in frustration. He glanced over at Rhea, who was watching him intently, a raised eyebrow signaling her curiosity.

Rhea reached over and placed a comforting hand on his leg. "You'll figure it out," she said softly, her voice calm but full of understanding. "You always do."

Jey let out a heavy sigh, his mind spinning as he thought about Jeyce. The kid was growing up too fast, and sometimes it felt like he was taking unnecessary risks. It wasn't the first time Jeyce had done something impulsive, but this-this was different.

Kissing Demi, sneaking out, getting caught by her father... things were getting complicated.

"I just don't get it," Jey said, rubbing his temples. "He's a kid, but he's—." Rhea cut Jey off by placing two fingers on Jey’s lips. “Baby.. don’t stress yourself out right now.. let’s get through the talk with Demi’s dad and we will figure out what’s next..”

"Alright, let's do it..”

After some time, the limo smoothly pulled into the driveway, the gravel crunching beneath the tires. Jey leaned forward, glancing out the window. As the vehicle came to a halt, he noticed a black Camaro parked by the gates, its sleek lines unmistakable. That has to be Demi’s dad’s car, Jey thought, his jaw tightening. He was about to walk into a tense situation, and he had no idea what to expect.

The driver opened the door for Rhea, who stepped out first, adjusting Jey’s jacket that he had took just in case, with a small smile of reassurance. Jey followed, stepping into the cool night air, scanning the surroundings. The lights from the house illuminated the driveway, and in the distance, he saw the familiar shapes of his cousins—Jeremiah, Jeremy, and Jesse—standing in the living room, their posture rigid, as if they had been waiting for him. Jey and Rhea entered the house and walked into their living room, Jey’s eyes flicked to the small figure of Jeyce sitting on the couch, head down, clearly feeling the weight of the situation. But there was someone else in the room.

A tall man, covered in tattoos, stood just behind Jeyce, his presence imposing. He had a dark look in his eyes, and his stance spoke volumes. The man took a step forward as Jey approached and extended a hand, his voice deep as he introduced himself.

“Dacre Victor Bartley,” the man said firmly, his handshake strong. “And you must be Mr. Fatu.”

Jey, looking the man over for a moment, nodded, returning the handshake with equal firmness. “You can call me Joshua,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “First, let me apologize for my son’s actions. I, nor his mom or his bonus mother, have raised him like this.”

Dacre’s eyes narrowed slightly, his expression unreadable. He glanced around at the room, then looked back at Jey. “I’m divorced as well,” Dacre said, his voice lowering a bit. “I was actually on a date, came home early to check on Demetria, and found them kissing on my couch.”

Jey nodded, feeling a wave of guilt wash over him. He had tried his best to raise Jeyce right, but this was a situation where no amount of good intentions seemed to fix the damage.

“I’m very sorry,” Jey replied, his voice steady but regretful. “He was on punishment for fighting earlier, and he will be punished more for this. It won’t happen again.”

Dacre considered Jey’s words for a moment, his posture softening slightly. “I know,” he said, his eyes softening just a fraction. “My daughter said your boy stood up for her. I respect that. I don’t tolerate disrespect, though, and what I saw on that couch is not acceptable.”

Jey nodded in understanding. This wasn’t about the kiss so much as the respect they needed to show each other’s families. He could appreciate Dacre’s stance, but he also understood his own son had crossed a line.

“I’m keeping my daughter away from your boy for a bit,” Dacre continued, his voice firm but not angry. “She’s never done anything like this, and I don’t want her making these kinds of decisions again.”

Joshua took a deep breath, processing the man’s words. “That’s fine,” he said, his tone even. “I respect your decision.”

Dacre nodded once more, then looked at Jey with a more neutral expression. “I think that’s all for now,” Dacre said, his voice not quite as harsh. “We all have to make sure our kids understand the consequences of their actions.”

Jey didn’t respond immediately, letting the silence linger for a moment as he glanced at his son, still sitting on the couch with his head down. The weight of the moment was heavy, but Jey knew it wasn’t over yet. There was still more to be done, lessons to be learned on both sides. He turned back to Dacre.

“I’ll take care of it,” Jey said, his voice carrying an air of finality. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”

Dacre gave a short nod and, after a moment of eye contact, turned to leave. He gave a curt glance to Jeyce before walking out the door, heading to his car without another word.

Jey stood there for a moment, processing everything. His jaw clenched, and he let out a quiet sigh before he turned to his brothers. They didn’t need to say anything—he could see the concern in their eyes, feel the tension in the room.

He looked at Jeyce. “Come on,” he said softly, his tone firm yet fatherly. “Let’s talk.”