#i hate this because i feel GUILTY over it

[dumbsadlesbian]

Oh my god oh my god oh my god. I have some things to say about this but after writing, it became a bit of a longer post. I’m unhinged about this, a bit sleep deprived, and I had too much coffee + my vyvanse, so…take that into consideration. I’m going to put the main text under a read more, but here’s a bit of what I talked about:

•Viktor and Singed’s conversation and elaborating on how Viktor said that Jayce will understand, and how Jayce truly did understand more than Viktor probably ever would’ve thought + more

•How I believe the story missed out on not having Jayce find out more about the shimmer experiments and Sky, + the interesting morality that could’ve happened with Jayce still putting Viktor in the goo if he HAD known more about what happened/what the hexcore was capable of

•How I believe Jayce would’ve still attempted to save Viktor had he known, and the implications of that— how his strong moral and ethical code + values would’ve been affected (the dual issue of backing out the moment he killed a kid on accident, even if he was shutting down drug operations vs him not caring that Viktor used shimmer and/or attempting to save Viktor using the hexcore that killed Sky, instead of destroying it).

•More discussion/theories on ifs, ands, and buts regarding the rest of their arcs in the story and more :)

This and (I do not remember the exact quoting and I can’t be arsed to find it rn) when Singed says that people/Jayce (?) might hate Viktor for (taking the shimmer), and Viktor responds “Jayce will understand.”

And upon Jayce’s “they’re dangerous!” outburst (zaunites), Viktor seems to reconsider and conceal his plans/actions (either wholly or more than he was going to originally— I personally believe Viktor was going to spitball the idea of shimmer usage in hextech experiments to at least some capacity, before this).

And then… Jayce really DID understand. Even more than Viktor would’ve originally thought. He understood to the point of committing arguably MORE ‘dubious’ methods than Viktor. I think a dichotomy that Arcane missed out on was if Jayce had found out beforehand. ESPECIALLY if he’d known about Sky’s death.

The moral dilemma Jayce would’ve had over his feelings towards him accidentally killing the kid versus (in my opinion) (while feeling sort of guilty, but mostly guilty over not caring enough to not do what I’m about to say) not batting an eye as much as one would assume one would over Sky dying IF it meant that Viktor lived/made progress/whatever.

I think the angst would’ve been absolutely delicious to see Jayce still attempt to save Viktor so desperately, resorting to using the hexcore when Viktor explicitly stated he wanted it destroyed, if Jayce knew about Sky and did what he did regardless.

I think that also would’ve made more sense for Viktor leaving (they’d had differences, yes, and I know Viktor was already under the influence of the hexcore at this point, but it still felt…weird for him to leave as he did.

Viktor viewed this as a betrayal, a huge break of boundaries, which is valid— but considering Jayce knew very little about what Viktor had been up to, and that he didn’t know what the hexcore was really capable of, I don’t think it is fair to place the blame on Jayce in regards to both things— just the boundary being broken. If I hand you a rock you’ve never seen before, and tell you it’s a bad rock but not why, and you keep it regardless— or you perhaps use it to smack open a lock you needed in to, whatever— and then I come back and I’m like “dude, what the fuck, that rock is radioactive!” It’s…not very fair, because I didn’t tell you HOW DANGEROUS the rock was. You know?

Anywho, it would’ve made more sense, in my honest opinion, for Viktor’s complete breakup, the MOMENT he hopped out of his goo, as well as just generally being more interesting + making more sense for Jayce’s arc if Jayce had known more about what the fuck was going on. I LOVE a pathetic wet dog who’s morally gray in a hypocritical way, it’s so fucking interesting, “no these things are bad” but also “well it’s fine if I do it for my loved one specifically, right?”

Also, Viktor dipping out was a bit strange to me because, while it’s clear that Jayce was the piece of the puzzle that was make or break for all of the timelines regarding the outcome of Viktor, I do think it would’ve been relatively easy to manipulate Jayce into being morally gray with Viktor. He’s already shown his willingness to through ethics and morals to the wind for Viktor in some capacity— though he also has shown himself to realize this, strengthen those morals and ethics, and do what needs to be done…

HOWEVER, if, in Jayce’s fragile emotional headspace of losing, and then being in limbo, and then getting Viktor back, Viktor had milked that? I definitely think Jayce could’ve been whatever Viktor wanted. If Jayce hadn’t had space alone to mull things over, having just lost your loved one makes you very hesitant to lose them again in any capacity. I can completely see Jayce pushing his own way of thinking aside if it meant being able to still enjoy Viktor’s company.

Though this is manipulative, yes, we all can grasp that, it’s still a very intriguing concept. The way the hexcore manipulated Viktor (look around for the discussions and theory on his eyes going a bit gold again when it’s more ‘him’ if you haven’t already) and made him see things how it wanted him to see things?

It would make sense to take something that was a danger (Jayce) to you (the hexcore) and make it into your weapon— making sure it can’t be wielded against you, and instead, you wield it. By slowly dipping Jayce’s toes into the warm pot and turning up the flame, until it’s too late (or he’s happy to, because it’s what Viktor wants) to get out of the boiling water. Potentially, I could even see hexcore influenced Viktor pushing this ‘transformation’ slash indoctrination upon Jayce more efficiently by dangling his companionship over Jayce’s head. “If you don’t do it, I’ll get someone else too.” “No, please, I can do it, I promise.” “If you’re not okay with this, maybe it’s best if I do it myself.” “No, please, I can do better, stay with me.”

Jayce clearly was a powerful person, AND weapon, across many timelines. I completely believe that in at least one, Viktor would utilize that. And the way that scratches my brain? Scrumptious. Jayce is so wet dog coded. He may be dressed up, the man of progress, but underneath it all we’ve seen that it’s easy enough to reduce him to a stray on the street. You let him in, feed him some scraps, and soon enough he’ll guard your house and you with his life. He’s yours. You don’t even have to let him sleep on the bed, no (but if you did, well…). You just scratch behind his ears a bit and the moment you say “good boy”, he’s basically already mentally sorted himself into the category of ‘yours’.

I think, in that sort of situation, Jayce would see himself as Viktor’s, in the sort of way where it’s like, he’s not just someone who’s ride or die for Viktor— he is an extension of Viktor himself. He’s not Viktor’s little errand boy, even if he’d happily run errands if asked. No, Jayce isn’t just someone who’d do Viktor’s dirty work. It’s deeper than that. Jayce is the sword sheathed on Viktor’s hip. Wielded by him, dirtied by him, just as much as he is also cleaned and polished. An extension and executor of Viktor’s will. Just a piece of metal without someone to hold him. Sharp and dangerous when used, but harmless when sheathed, yet a symbol of power and intimidation and a threat of violence either way.

So…maybe this got out of hand. And it’s NOT very concise. That being said, I can refine this later, whatever, I just had to get my messy thoughts out. I’m actually feral over Viktor and Jayce and all of the potentials they could’ve had 🫶

“why does anyone commit acts others deem unspeakable?”

“for love.”

[hyunjuenthusiast]

could I request headcanons from your yandere cho hyun ju au please?

I gotchu🫶🏻 (I'm going to write other things than dark/yandere don't worry🙏🏻😭)

YANDERE HYUN-JU

Cho Hyun-ju is definitely the gentlest yandere you could ever have.

Her obsession would stem from not having any love or acceptance in her life, until she met you.

She's the type of yandere who would long for you for a HOT minute before doing anything like kidnapping or approaching you.

She knows the feelings she has for you are not normal, but she just can't help it.

She craves being close to you, not necessarily in a sexual way, more so just being near you, in the same room, sitting beside you, using the same shampoo, ect.

Hyun-ju would respect your privacy....mostly.

She has pictures of you in a scrapbook at her house, in a special room she dedicated to you.

She set boundaries for herself, though. She would never take pictures of you while you were naked or asleep.

She hates the idea of disrespecting you. In any way.

The naked one is self-explanatory.

She doesn't want to take pictures of you while you're asleep because that's when you're most vulnerable.

She would never want to take that safety net away from you, even if you had no knowledge of her doing it.

I can see it going two different ways.

If she chooses to confess her feelings to you...poor baby would be so nervous.

She doesn't want the only good person in her life to abandon or reject her.

She would want to do it somewhere that meant something to you or to her.

It would go a little like this.

"Y/n... there's something I need to tell you. Something that's been on my mind for a long time." She would say, causing you to look at her softly, waiting.

She'd fidget with her hands nervously, as she always does.

"I-I really like you. You've always been the best friend I could ever ask for, and I know that this is so sudden, for that I apologize. I just can't help the way I feel." She'd say, to scared to look at you.

If you return her feelings she's so emotional.

Her darling likes her? HER?!

She'd definitely cry. And you'd have to hug her or reassure her that this was in fact real.

She just can't believe it.

If you don't feel the same way...

She'd keep the agony off of her face, but inside, she's dying.

She knew she'd never be good enough for you.

You want to remain friends? You don't want to ruin the friendship you both share?

She can't be your friend. It's to damn hard.

You might get scared when she's in your home in the middle of the night, but the cloth she puts over your mouth and nose smells so sickly sweet.

The other way I see this going is... she wouldn't have the courage to confess to you. So the only other option would simply be to take you home. The home you both would now share together.

She'd feel so guilty preparing the syringe

Hyun-ju would wait until you were asleep in your home before she uses the key you gave her to come in.

She'd gently brush the hair away from your face and just look down at you. Second guessing her decision.

But once she looks around the familiar 4 walls of your bedroom, seeing the photos of you and your friends, she knows she's doing the right thing (at least in her mind)

She'd shush you softly when you wake up from the feeling of the needle.

"Shhh its okay, sweetness." Hyun-ju says as your vision blurs.

She would leave you to rest for a while as she packs your things. Your clothes, shoes, makeup, some of the things she knows are important to you.

She would carry you to her car and buckle you into the passenger side. Making sure to support your head and neck with a pillow.

Her baby couldn't wake up with a sore neck.

The place she bought for you both was hours away from your home. And not many neighbors either.

She wouldn't want to restrain you in any way at first, so she'd keep you in a room with a locked door and locked windows.

When you wake up confused and disoriented, Hyun-ju is there to comfort and reassure you. Explaining why she had to do this.

She would never force you into anything physical that you aren't ready for. Hyun-ju isn't like that. She wants you to feel comfortable and sage around her.

The last thing she wants is for you to be scared of her.

She's so gentle with you.

She will never raise her voice when speaking to you, even if she's upset.

She would never, EVER, raise her hand against you either.

She'd never hurt you.

Hyun-ju understands why you're cautious and frightened of her, she would be too of she was in tour situation.

That's why she makes it her mission to always make sure you KNOW that you're sage with her.

Of course she had expected for you to try and escape, but that doesn't mean it hurts any less when you actually do.

She won't punish you per say, because she hates the thought of harming you in any way, shape, or form.

But she will smother you with her company after your escape attempts.

If you actually manage to escape successfully, she'd be PANICKING.

Not because she's scared of getting caught, she doesn't give a fuck about that.

Hyun-ju is scared because you're out there somewhere all by yourself.

What if you get hurt?

What if you get lost?

What if someone takes you away from her?

No. She refuses.

This is when the military experience comes in clutch.

She finds you. Whether it's hours or a whole day later. She finds you.

She apologizes sincerely as she has to drug you again.

Promising that everything will be okay.

Hyun-ju doesn't want to have to restrain you, but she has to.

Only for a while.

Hyun-ju hates that you wake up so scared, like you expected her to hurt you.

She would explain that she understood why you ran.

She hasn't proven her love yet. That's all.

She just needs to spend more time with you.

Show you more affection.

While your tied to the bed, she does everything for you.

She cooks for you, feeds you, gives you sponge bathes, brushes your hair and teeth, dresses you, reads to you, helps you go to the bathroom. Everything.

Overall. Hyun-ju is the nicest yandere you could probably ever have.

Would she get her hands dirty for you? Absolutely. Would she ever let you witness that? Absolutely not.

You already see her as the scary woman who stalked you...she doesn't want you to see her as a murderer too.

My pookie I luv her. BITTERSWEET part 4 is nextttt😏😏😏

[starless-nightz]

please do jinx and caitlyn with a piltie s/o

Jinx and Caitlyn with a Piltie! S/O

note -> I LOVE THE SILLIES SM!!! My style of writing has changed over time so I hope you don't mind! I made the reader be apart of a House since the request didn’t specify anything.

warnings -> stalking ig.

content includes -> fluff, sneaking around, fancy parties, childhood friends to lovers with Caitlyn, dates.

JINX

Jinx and you met by complete accident. She was running some errands for Silco in Piltover when she accidentally bumped into you. And somehow it happened over and over again to the point it became concerning.

She hated you at first. Jinx thought you were a privileged brat, but you still were interesting to her so she started stalking you, not to do anything but just to watch you, and she found you truly amusing.

Eventually Jinx started interacting with you and to her surprise she actually found your presence calming and comforting, which definitely weirded her out but she brushed it off.

She eventually started gaining feelings for you, which scared her but she took a chill pill and confessed to you, in her mind if you rejected her she could finally leave without feeling guilty.

Once you started dating Jinx and you sneaked out a lot, even before you started dating the two of you would sneak around but not as often as now.

She would show you around Zaun as a date, but she would also bring you to her favorite and the calmest places in the Undercity as a date.

CAITLYN KIRAMMAN

Caitlyn and you have known each other since you were children, your families were close so you two would be forced to hang out with each other. At first the two of you resented the arrangement and ignored each other, but eventually your relationship had turned into a genuine friendship.

The two of you would often sneak out at night just to chill. You two hated the fancy parties you were forced to attend to but you two had each other to entertain, and even then you two would sometimes sneak out.

Eventually Caitlyn realized she had feelings for you, which scared her. She didn't want to ruin your friendship, you are her best friend and she didn't want to lose you. She would eventually confess to you because she couldn't hide it anymore.

At first the two of you kept your relationship a secret from your families since the two of you were scared of their reactions, and then you were caught. Your families were no doubt pissed that the two of you kept it a secret but they were happy for you two either way.

Caitlyn would often take you on fancy dates, but she would also take you to some more calm, quiet and private dates. The two of you are already used to fancy dinners so the two of you prefer the simpler dates.

She loves dropping into your home after her shifts just so she could spend time with you. Caitlyn would spend a few hours with you just relaxing before going back to her own home.

[strawberry-nugget]

Pairing: Kirishima Eijiro x Reader

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

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

All CHARACTERS ARE 20+

Word Count: 25.5k

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

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

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

Definitely not for any other reason.

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

“Just tell me you'll be ready soon”

“I’ll be ready in five” 

Mina curses under her breath at Ochako’s response. 

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

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

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

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

“Uhm”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In a nice way nonetheless. 

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

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

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

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

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

Ochako turns her head and cocks an eyebrow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait, who's the one? God’s the one?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As. If

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

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

Mind you, she practically lives with him. 

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

“Oops, im sorry”

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

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

Uh, oh.

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

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

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

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

“Izuku baby, he messaged her”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thats rude, don’t point at him”

“Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bad idea?

No, not really.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bakugo made the canapes so you should-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You down it and your hands are sticky. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah”

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

“You could talk to him”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You look away first.

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

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

“I just wanted to request a song though”

“Kay! Denki! Song request!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ouch. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dance a little”

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

Does his hand have to feel so warm?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

Mina.

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

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

“Fuck i gotta go! Mina will kill me”

“You could—wait! I wanna talk!”

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

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

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

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

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

_________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh dear god how you wish to escape him. 

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

“Cool. I’ll wait”

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

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

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

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

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

You huff in response.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know i-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I miss you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The words he spoke. 

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

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

Mina sees. 

Strike one.

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

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

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

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

Both Tetsutetsu and Mina see. 

Strike two.

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

Strike three. 

Mina snatches your phone. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This isn’t about you!”

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

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

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

“But you’re friends with him!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

______

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

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

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

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

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

“Mina doesn’t allow you to? huh”

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

“Ahh, you know-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh so he’s playing you. Great. 

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

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

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

“Interesting?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up,” you mutter. 

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

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

“Sure you’re not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I hate you,” you mutter, though there’s no venom in your voice. It’s a feeble attempt to guard yourself, to keep him at arm’s length.

He chuckles softly, and the sound is warm, familiar. “I know.”

You shake your head, your lips twitching into a reluctant smile despite yourself. “You’re insufferable.”

“Maybe,” he agrees, a playful glint returning to his eyes. “But you still haven’t walked away.” The sound of exhaling echoes before he speaks again “Why’d you unblock me?”

You freeze, the blunt paused halfway to your lips. It’s not like you hadn’t expected this question, but you thought you’d have more time to come up with an answer. “I don’t know,” you say. Big lie for a topic you don’t want to actually talk about. 

Kirishima shifts, turning his body toward you just enough to make you squirm, his forehead still on yours even if the laughter has died  “Bullshit.”

You glare at him, but there’s no real heat behind it anymore. “Maybe I was bored. Maybe I wanted to see if you’d embarrass yourself trying to message me.”

He smirks, but it’s softer than usual, like he’s trying not to scare you off. “And? Did I?”

You roll your eyes. “You were predictable.”

“To think I almost didn't come because I didn't want to see you.” In any other instance this phrase would hurt like a bitch. “Bakugo said I shouldn't act like a dick tonight.”

You're not sure if he's referring to you or the party, but you choose to test him, pretending to be oblivious to his advance. 

“Mina won't forgive you if you're a shitty friend to her again”

“Mm I know” He giggles “never meant to be like that”

You don't reply out of nothing but embarrassment. It was you who would kept in contact with Kirishima when Mina had a fight with him, and you acted like a fool, telling her everything about him when he messed up. Something she just didn't do for you when she was friends with him and the two of you were a casual thing. 

Hell, you didn't even know they were this close again before she announced that he'll be at the party. 

Perhaps right now you don't find it in you to give a damn about their friendship. Whenever she's in the middle of you there's only disaster. You'd rather only count on yourself to ruin things with him. 

“I just… I don't care. Treat Mina however she allows you to.” This would usually make him bite, just enough so you could feel sharp canines, but now that he's intoxicated he just smiles softly. How long has it been since you've seen that expression on him? 

“Damn you're so harsh again”

Closed eyes, smile from one ear to another; you have to show him and his stupidly beautiful face that you're not the person he once knew. Your forehead sticks to his with a muffled sound. “Then what'll you do to make me soft?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Suddenly you come to realize, that getting Kirishima back is the easiest thing in the universe. Which just isn't a very good sign, at all. 

Α curious hand travels to your cheek, pushing back a loose strand of hair away from your face and you convince yourself you wouldn’t have accepted this touch if it wasn’t for another reason -no- but he cups the left side of your face so smoothly, your faces still stuck together, that the world is reduced to this hidden part of Sero’s backyard. To just the two of you. 

He’s so not good for you, damaged goods, been with other people that aren't you, you tell yourself in a last frail attempt to pull away, yet your body does not comply with any negative comment about him your mind has to offer to restrain you.

He chuckles for another time and it’s downright annoying how much you want him “I think i'm getting the munchies” 

You’re sold on every single word.

______

Under any other circumstance you’d avoid anything edible in Sero’s fridge given the fact that he owns a snake as a pet. There’s a plateau filled with canapes, there’s soda and there’s beer neatly placed in the vegetable drawer and that’s about all you can see from behind Kirishima’s back. He’s searching frantically for something while you hate how loud the music sounds now, your stomach growls much like his and he obviously hears it. It’s so loud even that he gives one of his searching hands a break and extends it to you, to pull you next to him. Tucked underneath his bicep you’re now met with the heavenly chill of the fridge.

You look up at him while he roams through the fridge, tongue out and lips pressed into a line. This isn’t a hidden place anymore; anyone can walk in and see you hugging. Yet and ever so fortunately your friends seem to have forgotten about the menace of the two of you being together apparently.

Kirishima pulls back from the fridge and closes it, taking the needed chilly air away with the stainless steel door. There’s victory in his hands. An unopened pack of prosciutto and a squeeze bottle of honey. Seeing that you don’t really get a chance to wiggle yourself from his arm, he swings you so that your back is facing the cabinets, your ass hitting the wooden countertop as your dress hitches slightly upwards. 

Big breath in. Slow exhale. His naked knee is in contact with your thigh.

He struggles with the packaging for a second but it doesn’t put up a long fight. With a stomach so viciously hungry his hands win for the second time this evening. With every movement you’re pressed further onto the countertop, but still not on it yet.

A small bite of prosciutto goes onto the tip of his finger and he finally sets his eyes on you. “Mouth” he orders and you open almost instinctively, taking the finger into your mouth. You whine at how salty it is but he’s got the solution for you, trapped in that golden squeeze bottle.

When he has his own share of the delicatessen he drops just a golden bit on the same finger and puts it in your mouth. Finally past your surprised lips, you suckle the honey, gaze fixated on him while his thumb brushes against your upper lip.

So long lip combo. You will not be missed.

“Great idea” You tell him ever so content. Everything is so balanced in your little bubble right now. Even the way he sucks the same finger into his mouth.

One more round of prosciutto means one more round of honey and you almost wonder if he came up with this on the spot, or if he’s ever done this before. You’ve never seen him with such menace in his red eyes. He’s just so evil.

Even more so, when he squeezes more honey on his finger and smears it against your lips. For a sinister moment everything goes completely silent and static. Your tongue dances on the tip of his finger as he pushes it further and further into your mouth, stroking your chin and your cheek when his hand moves in a circular motion.

“Fuck” He hisses, licking his lips and pulling his finger way from your mouth. The popping sound it makes is enough to get him riled up just enough, so that he grabs your face with his hands. He takes the smallest leap towards you, given the fact that you’re not that far away from each other, smacking his lips on yours.

With a heart that’s heavy as a rainy cloud, you moan at how rough his are. There’s nothing but neediness in his movements, from how he bites your lower lip between his teeth to how his hands just won’t let the sides of your face. You couldn’t even get yourself out of this situation with a written petition.

And when he feels and tastes like everything you remember, you can’t find it in you to kiss him back with the same burning fever. You want to be mean.

You push him away, whispering “Kirishima. Don’t kiss me” but your own hands are on his face too.

“Eijiro” He corrects you, like he hasn’t heard the second part of your words. “Now's not the time for my last name” His thumbs stroke your cheeks, so gentle it makes your chest ache. You hate how good his touch feels, how much you want to lean into it even as you tell yourself you shouldn’t.

He simply doesn't understand your inner turbulence.

“Don’t call me by my last name when I’m about to fuck you”

You’d hate to call him that; Kirishima is nothing but himself and he’s definitely not ‘your Eijiro’ even if you might as well have always been his. There’s just no way of showing him how much you want him while you absolutely hate him. Tonight was never meant to end up like this. you weren't supposed to land on Sero’s kitchen counter, trapped by him, kissing him. You were supposed to be having fun.

So long is the distance between fun and the notion of you doubting everything that’s happening to you at the moment. So short is the route in your brain that combines Kirishima’s behavior that is lust driven to the one you assume is him getting what he wants and chewing you and spitting you out for anyone to have his leftovers.

You count on him to put the invisible block between these two thoughts, to put an end at your turbulence. In the way his nose nuzzles to yours, in the warmth of his body against your own.

The tension is thick in the air between the two of you, and for a moment, his hands linger on your face like he’s memorizing the shape of it. His red eyes are half-lidded, drunk on the moment or the haze of the evening-or maybe just on you.

“Don’t kiss me,” you repeat, but this time it’s weaker, softer, almost like you’re trying to convince yourself more than him. He doesn’t move, doesn’t push forward, but he doesn’t let go either. His thumbs brush over your cheeks, so gentle it’s maddening. Your own lips are barely brushing his and despite what's coming out of your mouth you almost kiss him yourself. 

“You keep saying that,” he murmurs, voice low and raspy. “But you’re not pulling away.”

Your hands are still on his face, and it’s infuriating how good his skin feels under your palms. Warm, alive, familiar in a way that makes you want to scream.

There's so much nuisance in your bloodstream that you kiss him, ignoring whether he can respond or not. It’s not gentle, not sweet—just messy, desperate, and filled with all the things you can’t bring yourself to say. His hands tighten on your waist, pulling you closer, and the world narrows until it’s just him. Just you.

There’s no logic anymore, no reason, just the heat of his mouth, the scrape of his teeth, the roughness of his hands as they grip your thighs and push the hem of your dress higher.

Its decided then, by both of you, when your nails scrape against the nape of his neck desperately, that it's no use in denying each other. The feeling that use to dying both of you to pull away is faint now, reduced to something that resembles burnt out charcoal, ashes of a hateful fire. 

It's a whirlpool of emotions that's pulling you both in after that. It was a mistake to ever think it'd be okay you smoke with him or let him feed you, because your hands move on their own accord, pulling him as close to you as possible, chest heaving and eyes so heavy with teardrops that never dare fall. Your hands grip on everywhere and anywhere on his neck, face and hair that you can land them on. 

Every breath you take through your nose is hitched, like the sniffle of a crying session, but you refuse to part with lips that move in sync with agony. You forgot how good his lips feel on yours, you'll forget once again. Soon enough. 

For now, you block the angst of him and you away and instead, you feel dizzy like you're drowning. In an ocean so vast and dark that it's impossible to try and reach the surface for air. 

There's no word spoken, no other sound, no warning when his hands hitch under the skirt of your dress, angry and desperate to finish what he started when the two of you were dancing all this while ago. The pads of his fingers examine the band of your panties, as if they can tell the color just through that and for a second he stops kissing you, to hiss, breathe and whimper at how soft your skin feels against him. 

You run your fingers through his hair. A disheveled ponytail that finally comes to ruins is the outcome and his revenge is pulling your hips towards him, fingers laced between your panties, barely touching the skin of your ass. 

This time, you hiss. 

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, his voice barely more than a whisper.

You should. You know you should. This is dangerous, reckless, teetering on the edge of something you can’t take back. But instead of pulling away, you find yourself leaning in, your breath hitching in your throat.

“I’m not stopping you”  you admit, your voice soft and uneven. 

You kiss him.

That’s all the encouragement he honestly needs.

He pulls away from your lips with a smacking sound that's louder than the actual music and he tries, he tries to link his forehead against yours when smoking hot hands press against your tummy, just so his thumb can rub a painfully firm swipe across your throbbing clit and you don't let him have this moment in silence. 

You squirm at how delicious his touch is, and you're embarrassed that you feel this way about him still. Since it's just this time, you'll manage. 

You buck your hips into his thumb and squirm, your knees shaking like you’ve been hit by thunder. Embarrassment surges through you.

“Don't look at me” You whisper and throw your legs off the counter to stand on your feet. 

A hand on your waist and a furrowed brow is all that you get in response. After that, you're spun around the counter, released of any control in your own movements. Your right knee is thrown onto the counter, your neck is interlocked in his left hand, your back is stuck to his chest. 

He's smarter than you are, sometimes. 

You can feel how hard his heart is beating against your back, through tons of muscle. He's shaking, but you're not one to judge when you’re in the same position.

The fingers that held your knee against the counter top have already ordered your bones not to move and they're running up the side of your thigh. Grabby and needy as he is, he places a kiss at the crook of your neck when he feels the skin of your cheeks spill through his fingers. 

The departure of his hand upsets you only in the seconds before he gives you a small slap. 

You try to adjust yourself better against him so you don't feel your back hurting as you're stuck on him but it's no use, he applies pressure to your neck in response and hooks his pointer finger under your panties to pull them to the side. Your chest hitches a breath like he stole it from you. 

He's steady with his ministrations, catching some of your slick with his thumb from your entrance and drags it across your slit, landing to your clit, just to rub a few slow circles there. His lips find your shoulder and even though the stubble he has as a goatee hurts when it's poking you, the kiss he plants on your skin is hot- too sensual. 

He keeps rubbing circles against you, gradually introducing a few pinches to your clit when he traps it between his fingers. 

You groan and you yelp; it's unprovoked when his ring finger enters you, too sudden as he keeps rubbing you with his middle one. He's moving freely, in courtesy of how long and thick his fingers are and you're all but at his mercy. A whimpering mess that refuses to plead with him to move faster, or show him any ministration on how to please you most. 

He is aware of how to do exactly that. 

He is aware of every single detail; from how fast he can make you cum, to how much time he needs to prep you for simply the size of him, and you'd be insane to stop him now. One, because you'll die from your own lust if he leaves you empty even for a second and two-

“Fuuuck, don't stop” You whine, only because your head isn't working anymore, your thoughts are gone as he pulls out his finger for only a second. 

You don't see it, with your field of vision being a dark lit image of Sero's toaster on the counter you're on, but you listen to the sound of a finger getting sucked in Kirishima’s mouth. Albeit, you almost moan at the notion that he can't get enough of you. 

He works a second finger inside of you, introduces it with a few circles around your entrance and the sound of a hiss falls from his lips when he does so. He scissors his movements and everything applies pressure to that spot inside of you that has your knees shaking. 

That devious coil in your tummy is back, but now it's much lower, just under the spot where your skin is pressed on the edge of the counter. You're reduced to being a moaning mess of an orgasm that's building up, high off the feeling of Kirishima's fingers pistoning inside of you feverishly. 

He bites his lips hard enough to draw blood at the mere sight; but the faster he works to prep you, the worse it gets for him. His cock is twitching so hard between his legs, tugging uncomfortable at how it's tucked inside his underwear and cargo shorts. Every little moan of yours when he lazily flicks at your clit with the top of his pointer finger,  gets him impossibly harder, to the point he can't just ignore it anymore. 

“What are you-” You almost turn around to eat his heart out when he pulls his fingers out of you, so he can work on his button, his zipper, on the waistband of his underwear. Begrudgingly, your eyes rush to his side and you're too cocky with the anger of a ruined orgasm. 

Despite that, the sounds of his undressing, you respect. Until his palm grasps at the nape of your neck, to force your head to land next to the toaster again. 

“You said you don't wanna look at me, didn't you?”

His cock springs free, just as big and thick as you remember and not a single whine of yours is enough to make him get him to come closer. 

“I said,” You pant “I don't want you to look at me”

With one hand grabbing at his base, jerking himself slowly in a hammer motion, he lets the weight of him slap on your naked ass as he moves to completely bunch up your skirts around your waist. He ignores what you said as it's deemed impossible; there's no way in the whole world he will tear his eyes off of you right now. It's laced in his confession. 

“Fuck, I'm missed this view, so, don’t care. Don't look at. Me.”

You whine as his palms kneed softly at the soft skin of your ass, through layers of your muscle, thumbs so firm they're almost digging in holes on the two spots they've landed so he can spread you open even further. 

His cock moves like it has a brain of its own, leaving trails of precum against your ass and he thrusts his head across your slit a few and agonizingly slow times. You should speak up, tell him how much you love it, tell him you can just cum on the spot from just his cockchead rubbing against your clit like that but you don't want him to have that satisfaction. You don't need him to know he’s making you feel this good when he's barely done anything to you.He's cocky enough already, engrossed in his actions as his tip lines up exactly to your entrance. 

He teases you with his tip again, like he’s gonna torture you until you beg—which you’re not gonna do. Though your eyes roll to the back of your head at the sound of him slapping his dick against your folds. He slides against you again, hips stuttering out with a simple, muffled, motion of a hold back and just like that, when he’s spent on the feeling of squeezing his base so he gets even harder he lines up with your soppy entrance.

He slips right in. No warning, no effort. Your pussy pulls him in.

A guttural moan escapes you, coming from the depths of your chest as he thrusts his head in. The pain of being split open hits you like a wave. It hurts, like every single time you reconcile with him. You always forget that the girth and length of him are too much to not take in gradually. 

But he knows that too. 

“Babe,” he whimpers “Can I move?”

You wince at the desperation in his voice, the use of the nickname paired with it, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. ‘Babe’ how can such a simple word make your stomach twist into a knot? 

“Please-” It's nothing but a whisper, but it comes out of your mouth without much thought. It's needy and silent and full of guilt. 

“Oh fuck I like the sound of that. Say it again”

You hesitate for a moment, hips bucking towards him to take a little more in but he pushes your head down again. 

“Please Eijiro”

“Please what,” He pressures “say it”

“What? No!” 

“Then I could just pull out”

The sound of your mumbling is almost choked by his palm on your cheek, he's not letting go- he's not hurting you either- the pressure is just enough to get his point across because, frankly, the stuttering of his hips doesn't match his words. Had you not been pressed on the counter, you would have bucked away from him to teach him not to play boss with you. For now, you just whine as he pulls completely out of you.

“Eijiro- fuck, please”

“Fuck what?”

“Shit. Fuuuuck”

Eijiro presses his hand on your waist and pins you down, getting a hold of your hair in his hands—fuck, fuck, fuck, the word’s a mantra right now. Fuck it’s so hot, you’ve never even thought you could get this wet over a few motions. 

He growls when he yanks your head just a little upwards and your walls pulsate around nothing.

“Want me to turn you over and fuck your mouth? Huh?”

“N-no” you shake your head.

“Then speak”

You take a mental note; you’re going to chew his head off for this later on. When did Eijiro even learn how to dirty talk like that?

“Me! Fuck me, dammit” You hiss, cheeks are once again trapped between his palm and the cold counter. 

He places another kiss on your shoulder at that, giving your ass an encouraging slap as he chuckles. “There you go”

You feel the head of his cock press against your entrance once again, and despite yourself, you whimper. His hands squeeze your hips tightly as he begins to push inside of you, inch by slow inch. The burn of pain mixed with the heat of desire, making it almost impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins. You grit your teeth against the sensation, trying to ignore the way his cock stretches you open.

You’re so full if him that you could explode.

His voice is so low in his throat, so needy when he says "That's it, baby.”

Then be, once more again before he starts going at a steady pace, bucks his hips time after time, ever so slowly. Had you not been unadjusted to the shape of his cock by now you'd be screaming at him to go faster, but for now, this tortuous pace is as helpful as it's driving you insane. 

It's just the beginning, but the weight in your chest and your heart are starting to be felt. 

“Eiji” You say, eyes closing as you try to hold on to the counter top to no avail. He moans in response, rubbing his palm along the length of the leg that you've bunched up on the surface. 

You've no mind to consider the soreness you'll be feeling tomorrow, really. 

He tries to hook his other hand on your steady knee and you yelp, scared that you're going to fall, that your strength isn't enough to hold your weight in the strange position that you're in right now. 

“Let go of your leg” He pants giving the back of your thigh a few encouraging slaps “give it to me”

You slowly let go of your leg, exhaling shakily in fear of not feeling the ground under your foot anymore. Eijiro takes this as an invitation, his grip on your hips tightening as he helps you wrap your leg awkwardly around him just so he thrusts deeper into you. The sensation is almost overwhelming, too mouthwatering; you can't help but want to arch your back in response, despite being almost unable to.

Hick dick kisses your cervix with every movement, every roll of his hips.

Your breath, despite having been knocked out of your chest, with each of his thrusts, is loud, always conveyed into a moan or a yelp and that’s about all the encouragement Kirishima needs for his thrusts to source more force, more speed. 

His hips slam against yours in a rhythm that matches the pounding of your heart. You cry out in that delicious mixture that’s pleasure and the pain of him splitting you open, your body arching to meet his.

You are evil, sinister, malevolent for both you and him when you plead “Go faster”

He pants, half sober, half drunk as he digs his fingernails into your love handles and bottoms out again. Eijiro's thrusts quicken, his body shaking with the effort to keep up the pace. You can feel his cock pulsing inside you, head hitting every wall inside you as he drives deeper. Your breath comes in short gasps, and your body feels like it's on fire. This is new territory for both of you.

You've never had sex raw before, not even at the start of any session. So every time you squeeze around him, you can feel his veins and he can feel you get wet—wetter. It’s so sloppy, so messy, like it should have been happening all the time, like you two are made just for this.

Both of you whimper. Whether it’s the angle, the pace or the way he slips his hand, ever so subtly to rub lazy circles on your puffy clit, you absolutely cannot control your noises just as much as you cannot find it in you to care about whether you’re louder than the actual music on the party that's happening above.

You try and buck your hips towards him some more, yielding a moaned out version of his name in the process. Everything is just too much and you’ve never been this desperate to cum.

“Fuck babe, you feel so good” Kirishima hisses and your legs tremble 

“Yo-you too” 

“‘Pussy feels s’good, fffuck yeah work those hips for me”

You stretch your hand, in an effort to try to reach him, touch him. Anything to ground yourself to stop the shaking in your legs, but you ultimately cry out in disdain when he grabs your wrist to stop you, pining it on the small of your back. He holds it there for a moment, when his thrusts become slower, rougher, just enough to elicit louder moans from you before he finally lets go, running his hot palm on your back.

“Making me want to fuck you raw forever”

“Ei-” 

The only response you get is a whimper. Half lid eyes that look at your back with so much lust that it should be considered a sin.

You wish you could see his face, to land your eyes on that whiny expression that adorns his face when he’s inside you, but his hand is quick, too hot on the skin of the ape of your neck; he grabs your hair, lifts your head in the process.

“Take it” He whispers and you realize you haven't, in your dizzy state, even sensed him leaning on you to bite on your shoulder. The action alone makes you wince but Eijiro, ever so tender, immediately suckles the spot between his lips, hoping to soothe you, but your legs start shaking even more. “I'll give it to you slow then? ‘kay?”

“Ei” You’re so spent, so unable to call out anything other than his name, gooey walls clenching around him as his thrusts slow down even more. 

You’re so impossibly wet and tight, fluttering and squeezing and tightening around him. Mere seconds away from letting the beast that's gnawing inside you burst into existence. Like a flaming hot explosion. “'M gonna come” You manage to whisper and your stomach twists in an impossible way when Kirishima replies

“Can you wait for me baby, I want us to— fuck— come together”

And as much as you love the sound of that being whispered in your ear, you're not sure you can obey him. He feels that too, suddenly starting to quicken his thrusts while letting go of your hair, pushing it off your face. It's only now that he's so desperately chasing his own release, as you’re clamping impossibly around him, hips working faster than ever. 

“Can I cum in you? Fill you up?” The sound of skin clapping and your squelching with each buck of Kirishima's hips filling the kitchen. Hes’s frantic when you’re deprived of a reply, circling your clit, slapping it, gathering all of your mixed juices and rubbing at you again.

You yell out his name again like a mantra, your orgasm starting to blur out your vision as the top of his cock kisses all the right spots inside you. 

“Please say yes”

You moan.

“Say yes, wanna fill your pussy up.”

You moan again.

It feels so good— his hand on the small of your back, his scent, the notion that this is the worst thing that could happen tonight it all adds up to you finally coming to release all that's pent up tonight. 

—Clank!

From the corner of the kitchen, you hear a loud, unmistakable clatter, followed by the sound of rapid footsteps. Both yours and Kirishima's heads snap to the direction, his name being cut short from falling from your mouth as terror washes through both of you. 

White. 

Hot. 

A voice, too familiar, yells out in a burst of laughter and shock. 

“No fucking way!” Sero’s voice rings out, too high-pitched, way too obvious. “what the fuuuuuuck”

Kirishima locks eyes with him first, taking the first pinch of realisation in his gut, hands doing nothing of sort to shield any of you. There's no initial reaction that can be performed. He's just as deep in mud over this as you are. 

“Dude!” Sero paces his eyes between you and Kirishima as if to point out the profanity. Helaughs again, holding his stomach, never prying his gaze from the scenery in front of him “you guys are impossible. Get a room ‘cuz I want some more beer.”

Your eyes land on him, turn just in time to see his figure disappearing around the corner

heading straight to the direction he just came from, and you whine— both for your ruined orgasm, more so for the fact that you've been caught.

The wave of shame that should be washing over you is nowhere to be seen or felt. 

“No.” You don’t even realize you’ve said it until the words slip past your lips, but the panic that flares in your chest feels real. “No, no, no—he’s not— He's gonna tell— fuck!”

Kirishima swears under his breath, a hand running through his messy hair as he looks at you, his face caught between guilt and desperate frustration. “Shit—”

The two of you stand there, his cock still inside you, despite it starting to go limp, your leg still bunched around his back. Both of you too unsure of what to think, or do, in such situation. 

Seeing that the moment is ruined, that none of you have had enough self control to stop earlier or restrain yourselves, you lower your lifted leg to the ground. 

Kirishima takes the hint immediately. Patting your ass with both his palms for just a little leverage— like he needs it anyway and actually pushes out of you with a loud pop. He tucks his cock in his pants and zips them up in fast movements and actually makes an effort to make you look somewhat presentable too. 

Panties drawn to their initial position, even if they feel ruined and wet behind salvation, and dress smoothed nicely over your ass before he signs you to lift your head up. He guides you still, hand on your head, so you don't manage to land a hit at the cabinets over your head. 

For the first time in a while, you look at him again. He’s disheveled; red hair tousled and messy, lips burning a red as fiery as his eyes. There's a tiny remembrance of his quirk on the left side of his eyebrow. 

In an unfair and very beyond and out of character reaction for you, you reach to smooth it over with the tips of your fingers, pushing the red strands of hair away from the spot. He mumbles something that's beyond the realm of speech and you don't make an effort to understand as your hand slips to the side of his face, cupping his sharp jawline. 

You don't speak just yet, whether it's out of panic or because you're really not in a mental position to take in what just happened. Thus, you too, don't say a word when he brings both hands to your face. One to mimic your own hold, the other, to wipe some of the sticky residue of honey and some drool that has gathered in the corner of your lips. 

When your legs wobble on top of the heels that you just remembered you're wearing, the warmth of his hands on your face travels to your waist. It's only then that he talks. 

“Easy there, babe”

You let out a laugh “You did this to me, by the way”

“Well, I don't think I can hold myself when I'm around you. That's why I've been avoiding it.”

And that's exactly when it hits you. The party, Mina, every memoir of your past with him. You hate to be fucked silly to the point of no thought by him, never have an orgasm in his presence and then live in regret. You have to put an end to this. Mina was right. No one's gonna pick up your pieces ever again. 

You're looking dazzled, confused and out of your mind. The room starts to blur. 

You’re so out of words, it’s painful.

The tension hangs in the air as Kirishima grabs your hand, his grip firm but careful, and whispers hurriedly, “This way.” 

He leads you out of the kitchen, his eyes darting around the room like a predator looking for an escape route. You barely have time to register the shift in pace before he’s guiding you down the hall.

Your heart races—not just from the rush of adrenaline, but from the lingering haze of your interrupted moment. You’re still reeling from the intensity of it, your mind a chaotic blur of heat, panic, and something dangerously close to longing. Your hand, clasped inside his burns, like the very core of your being.

“Where are we going?” you hiss, glancing over your shoulder to make sure no one is following.

“Bathroom,” he mutters under his breath, his jaw tight. “We need a second of privacy”

Before you can protest, he’s already nudging open a door, ushering you inside with a quick glance down the hallway. The bathroom is as small and dimly lit as it was a while ago and the hum of the party muffles the moment the door clicks shut behind you.

The lock makes a noise of pure solace; Eijiro twists the key hurriedly but doesn’t pull it out of the lock. He opts to rush to you, even if you’re just a few literal feet away from him. 

Your poor heart is thudding. You’ve been cataclysmed with emotions of all kinds. The betrayal to your friends, to yourself even, the guilt of how a part of you feels joy, the panic of experiencing being found out. The embarrassment. Tears well in your eyes like silky beads. Head in your hands, you land on the semi wall of the bathtub and sit down. 

Eijiro follows, much dizzy and still high like you, and plops on the marble right next to you. 

He turns his head in your direction despite knowing full well you’re trying not to let the faucet in your eyes flood your face, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to stand there and watch you like this. He only does what he knows better. 

Huge arms are wrapped around you and he’s pulling you close. Part of you wants to beg him to let go, too afraid of what happens each time you’re in this position with him and your heartstrings are being pulled— despite your sniffles and in between your thoughts and your guilt you can’t find any strength to push him away.

You melt into his chest, the very second his palm presses your head against him. 

“Shhh” the redhead finally speaks “Sero’s going to forget this in seconds, even faster”

First and foremost and most foul of all, Eijiro thinks you’re only crying because you’ve been caught. That’s as much as you gather from his demeanor. 

“No, I-” Another wave of tears hits you before you get a chance to respond.

“Please tell me how can I help”

You loathe the fact that he sounds so willing. It’s the twist of the knife to your wound, why is he only willing when something’s in for…

“…you?”

Oh, oh no! You spoke that aloud. Cursing under your breath you decide you would rather swallow your tongue and die forever. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re still high, but had you realised sooner you wouldn’t have spoken this. It’s prone to cause turbulence.

“What? You really believe that?” 

There. There he is looking as confused as ever and he’s peeling you away from his chest just to lock eyes with you. 

“I just…” he pauses “I don’t know how to act, I’m sorry”

It’s… excruciating that he apologises over something he knows can’t be helped. Even when not intended to excuse him you just know he’s a person that reeks of insecurities, inner turmoil be damned and all, but so are you. Apologising for himself does absolutely nothing to you— he probably knows so as well.

But you breathe in his scent and his apology stops being one of manipulation. The man before you is nothing but himself. With roots such a deep shade of brown that just isn’t black, lashes that are full but not too long… he lacks in things that he’s so full of; Maybe if you had been more kind and understanding you and him would have worked. You wouldn’t have to cry in his arms after a catastrophic night. You wouldn’t get carried away by each other, rather, you’d get carried away together.

You don’t answer to him, but tears well in your eyes and they’re for him. So you cling onto his shirt and avert your eyes, not being able to bear another glance at him.

A few, new sobs in and he manhandles you onto him. You never protest —His lap is more comfortable than the marble, much warmer too. And you don’t need to be cool anymore.

“Baby” he whines and a hand is wrapped around your head, engulfing you in that huge bicep of his. His fingers linger on your face again but this time he holds you; one thumb brushes lightly against your wet cheek and the other wipes the teardrops that run down one of your eyes “Did I— Am I making you cry?”

You nod.

In response he kisses your forehead. A secret part of you wishes he’d never done that despite the fact that you find solace in the comfort.

“I’m sorry, I’ve made you cry a lot, haven’t I?”

You nod again.

This time he doesn’t continue on with words. He kisses your forehead again, then your wet cheeks, your nose, your eyes lids and your chin. You’re so lost in the moment, dizzy still. You lean into him, edging closer and closer to his face. Your body moves on its own against your better judgement.

“It’s not fair” you say as your lips hover right under his.

“I know”

Thus, this time, when you kiss, it’s not needy or desperate; it’s comforting. Your lips move in sync against each other and its numbing; his mouth feels just perfect against yours. He pecks your lower lip and you suck on his softly. 

Of course, you know that he knows. But neither of you pull away.

Kirishima's hands tremble slightly where they rest on your waist, like he's unsure if he should pull you closer or let you go before it’s too late. The way his lips move against yours—slow, deliberate, reverent—makes your stomach twist. This isn't rushed or reckless like before. It isn't an act of desperation or lust. It's something else. Something worse.

It’s a plea. A question. A confession.

And the moment you realize that, you break the kiss.

Your breath comes in shallow gasps as you stare at him, his forehead still resting against yours. His eyes—soft, carmine and burning all at once—search yours, waiting for an answer you don’t have.

His fingers flex against your hips, but he nods. “I know….” He pauses “I never got to tell you that I love you too”

Even if this confession is the end for him, he doesn’t let go. Neither do you.

You sit there, tangled together in the dim light of the bathroom, the party outside a distant echo compared to the roaring silence between you. His chest rises and falls beneath your hands, warm and steady, and for a fleeting second, you let yourself imagine a world where this could be simple. Where you could have him without all the chaos, the guilt, the inevitable heartbreak.

Αll you’ve ever wanted was for this to be your world.

“Then why do you punish me for it?”

Reality settles between you like an unspoken truth, thick and suffocating, making it hard to breathe, hard to think—hard to do anything but exist in this moment that shouldn’t have happened.

You’re nothing but truthful and honest. He’s punishing you because he loves you but you’re just no better —you’ve been doing nothing but the same.

Kirishima’s grip tightens just slightly, like he’s afraid that if he loosens it even a little, you’ll slip away completely. And maybe he’s right. Maybe you will. Maybe you don’t love him anymore and you have every right to. After everything he’s pulled, why on earth would you reciprocate his feelings?

Just take his heart and tip in two already. It’s either that or it’s just going to burst.

Your fingers twitch where they rest against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath them. It’s fast. Just as fast as yours.

You force yourself to pull back, just enough to see his face fully, to take in the way his brows pinch together in something like frustration. Or sadness. Or both.

You don’t trust yourself to speak. If you do, you’re not sure what will come out—anger, regret, longing. Maybe all three. Your words hurt more than a villain's attack.

But he speaks first.

“I don’t wanna let go,” he admits, voice low, barely above a whisper. “Not yet.”

The confession cracks something inside you.

You inhale sharply, closing your eyes for a moment before forcing yourself to move. You reach for his hands, prying them gently from your waist despite the way your entire body protests. He lets you, but his fingers linger, brushing against yours until you finally pull away completely.

The warmth of him is gone too soon, and you hate how cold you feel without it.

“Eijiro…” His name feels heavy on your tongue, like it’s not meant to be spoken in this way, not meant to carry this weight.

He shakes his head before you can say anything else. “I know” he repeats, but this time it sounds different. Defeated. And some stinky, dreadful part of you hates to see him this way.

You must be out of your head tonight—in a different dimension, this is another you from another reality. 

Kirishima is as surprised as you are, really. But your lips are on him when his eyes envisioned you leaving him cold, completely. 

After that, it’s clothes being thrown into bathroom tiles and the heavy sounds of kissing. It’s different from the one in the kitchen; there’s no fight for dominance, no physical rattling in battle. It’s just him and you, in the most uncomfortable spot in the world, naked, working together to walk on that tight rope that the love of you is.

This is the first time you’re making love. In sero’s bathroom. At Mina’s party. 

And you could die from how delicious it all feels.

It’s either that fact or something very guttural that’s gotten you feeling this way because the more Eijiro rams into you, the more you tighten around him.

Soft, gummy walls flutter around him, drenched in desire. It’s like you’re moulding the shape of him, every vein, every slope, every inch of him is moulded into you. And at the ache you whine your hips up and down, desperately, like you’re picking up where you left it off in the kitchen.

You’re finally aware that it’s summer again, when you realise your sweat is hot against your skin.

Kirishima holds you like he’s trying to convince himself that you’re real. That this is really happening. His hands wrap around you completely, like he’s got you in a headlock and you’re chest to chest.

You can feel his heartbeat once again, against the skin of your chest and it feels so animalistically intimate. Everything burns and you could just die. You could die like this, right here and right now!

The way your clit rubs on his navel eagerly, makes your whole body numb and in need of release. You set on screaming— his name becomes a mantra for every second passing.

Both of your hips work slow, in sync and he curses against the nape of your neck. You never make out what he says as you’re so drunk on him the second he starts placing open mouth kisses all over your neck.

You hiss in pleasure and your body jolts back—it causes Kirishima to twitch and tighten his grip around you, even now that your chest has departed from his. He looks at you like you’re a prey again; it’s one, two, three kisses on your neck before he travels lower, trapping the skin of your chest between his lips and teeth.

For better leverage, one of his hands grabs on your ass and guides you on your previously steady pace on him. You’re reduced to moaning, like a pornstar on set, when he hits it from this angle. His tip kisses the right spot inside you, repeatedly with an agonising pace and when you turn to look at him he’s kissing down your breast- right above your nipple.

The moment you lock eyes, he takes the hardened bud into his mouth and sucks. You can’t even rip your eyes away from him and oh my god you’ve never had your eyes open during sex like this. Not being able to shake the embarrassment of the action, you wrap your arms around his neck, his eyes still following your every movement, you plant a kiss to the top of his head.

The hand on your back turns as soft as good. And you hold, hold onto his neck like he’s any steady at all. Like the distance between you that closed the second you parted.

It’s all too much and not enough at all— his kisses on your neck and chest, the aching up and down and the sound of skin clapping. A coil forms at the lowest, deepest part of your stomach and you set on chasing it.

In a dazed state, you grab at Eijiro’s hair, right at the nape of his neck, just so he looks up at you and right when he does you kiss him, full force.

The movement makes both of you tilt to the back, but his dick slams inside you in such tremorous manner that you yelp into Eijiro’s mouth.

He moans too, feverishly, but moves his lips on yours. You dare to be the first to pull away, to lock his forehead with yours before you lean in for another kiss.

Again you depart with a smacking sound.

And then you kiss him again.

Through heavy breaths, you fail to acknowledge how long the two of you spend kissing like that, but your eyes wet again at the feeling of him.

He kisses your tears, like he’s trying to make them disappear, like if he presses his lips to your skin enough times, he can rewrite the stinging pain woven into this moment.

You feel him trembling beneath you, his hands gripping your hips like he’s trying to brand the feeling of you into his memory. And maybe he is. Maybe you are too.

Because no matter how much you try to pretend, no matter how much you tell yourself this is wrong, that this can’t be anything more than what it is—it doesn’t stop you from wanting it to be.

The tension in your stomach coils tighter, electric and overwhelming, your body moving on instinct, chasing the high you’ve been denied one too many times tonight. Every thrust, every kiss, every desperate gasp that falls from Kirishima’s lips sends you spiraling deeper into something neither of you can name.

You whisper his name, not as a warning or a plea, but as a confession to match his.

And he hears it.

Because his arms wrap around you tighter, because his forehead presses to yours like he’s holding onto you for dear life, because his breath hitches when he murmurs back, “I got you, baby.”

It’s too much.

It’s not enough.

“I love it when you cry for -huh- me” he says between jagged breaths, while he kisses the tears that are running down your cheeks— why is he getting unbelievably hard at them?

It feels like he’s kissing away every mess that you’ve both made, like he loves seeing you this broken for him and vulnerable.

Your body tenses, nails digging into his shoulders as you come undone around him, a shuddering, whimpering mess in his arms. And when he follows, burying himself deep inside you with a groan that sends shivers down your spine, you swear you feel something break.

Not your heart—not yet.

But something close.

You’re only ever aware of the digging of your nails on his soft skin, like you’re aiming to draw blood as that white hot pleasure bundles in you again.

It’s a few more thrusts too long when you come, a few more that are absolutely pushing it before Eijiro comes too. 

He comes inside you; hot, spurting cun paitining your insides and slipping down any gap that’s between him and you —impossible— and overflows with gravity, right onto his lap.

He twitches inside you. Once. Twice. 

Your breath is knocked out of you relentlessly as he fucks both of you through your orgasms, slowly.

You flutter around him, sore and even more right from the overstimulation. Eijiro plants a few more kisses to your numb jaw before he attacks both your lips with a smack. He hopes to soothe you, let you know that you can breathe now, that he can breathe, but instead you hyperventilate. His mouth has engulfed yours wholly.

You’re kissing like there’s no tomorrow, no next time and your hands run around each other’s body, roaming, grabbing, digging in skin until your skin is itchy and irritated. He bites your lower lip so hard that you think he’s trying to draw blood. And in response you try to part away from him. 

Your mouth is still linked to his teeth but when it slips away it remains that way, through a string of saliva— he falls apart on you shortly after, pulls you impossibly closer to him.

Eijiro’s breathing is heavy against your skin, warm and steady, grounding you in a way that feels more dangerous than comforting. His arms are still wrapped around you, holding you like he doesn’t want to let go, like maybe if he keeps you here long enough, the rest of the world won’t come crashing in.

Slowly, reality starts to settle around you like an unwelcome guest. The muffled bass from the party outside, the distant chatter, the fact that anyone could be looking for either of you right now—Mina, Sero, anyone.

You swallow hard and finally, finally, force yourself to pull back just enough to look at him.

His face is flushed, red eyes lidded, hair a mess from where your fingers had been tangled in it. He looks beautiful in a way that makes your stomach twist, makes your chest ache with something dangerously close to regret.

But when you move, he follows.

His hands slide down your waist, holding you like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers. Like he knows you will.

“Eiji” you murmur, voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes snap to yours, something raw and unreadable flickering in them. He knows what you’re about to say. 

“I wanna go home. I want you to come with me.”

“I know,” he says first, just like before. “Wanna hold you in my arms tonight”

But this time, it’s not enough.

Because knowing doesn’t make this any easier. It doesn’t change the fact that this—whatever this is—is bound to hurt you both in the end.

You take a shaky breath and move to get off his lap, but his grip tightens just slightly, like he’s debating stopping you.

Like he wants to.

“Don’t fucking lie to me” 

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he lets you go, lets you shift off of him even though it feels like something inside him is breaking as you do. And maybe something inside you is breaking too.

The silence is thick, suffocating, as you fix yourself—pulling your dress down your body, smoothing over the fabric even though it feels wrong now. You just want to be naked in his presence. 

Kirishima tucks himself back into his pants, runs a hand through his hair, but doesn’t stand up.

He watches you. Just watches.

You open your mouth, but no words come out. What could you even say? That this was a mistake? That it wasn’t? That it didn’t mean anything, or worse—that it did?

Kirishima exhales through his nose and rubs the back of his neck before finally speaking.

“I really want to. I don’t want to sleep alo— I wanna hold you.” His voice is rough, hoarse from all the things he isn’t saying. He’s chewing the words like anything could be taken wrongly “Say yes, just for tonight. Babe, you can hate me all you want tomorrow”

You nod, because that’s all you can do. You don’t want to hate him tomorrow.

“Kay then, imma drive, I think I’m good. You okay with that?”

You nod again.

Kirishima lingers for a second longer, like he’s waiting for you to take it back—to say you’ve changed your mind, that this is stupid, reckless, wrong. But you don’t.

When he finally moves, pushing himself up from the bathtub’s edge, you follow.

The party outside is still alive, voices rising and falling over the heavy bass of the music, laughter spilling through the cracks beneath the door. It feels too loud, too real compared to the quiet that had settled between you both.

Kirishima hesitates before unlocking the door, turning to look at you one last time, searching your face for something—permission, reassurance, maybe even regret. But whatever he finds, it’s enough. 

You just want to grope on him again, kiss him, squish his face with yours.

He opens the door, and the world comes rushing back in.

No one is standing outside waiting for you, no god of fury Mina, no traitorous Sero, no one watching with knowing eyes. But the paranoia still lingers in your chest, coiled tight as Kirishima takes your hand again, intertwining your fingers like it’s second nature.

When you step outside, the hot air hits you hard. You inhale deeply, trying to shake the tension that’s clinging to your skin.

Kirishima’s truck is parked a little way down the street, away from the cluster of other cars. His grip on your hand is steady as he walks you there, thumb rubbing small circles against your skin absentmindedly. It makes your chest tighten.

Once you’re at the passenger door, he lets go just long enough to open it for you, waiting until you climb inside before shutting it gently. You shoot him a glance that falls apart in seconds. You don’t need him to open the door for you, but the fact that he did because he wanted to.

Perhaps he cares for you as you care for him.

The driver’s seat creaks when he settles in, and for a second, neither of you speak. The air feels different now, heavy with something unspoken.

“You remember where my house is?” You ask, voice barely anything but a whisper.

“Yeah” Kirishima exhales slowly, his hands gripping the steering wheel like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. His jaw is tight, eyes fixed on the road ahead even though he hasn’t started driving yet.

You steal a glance at him, at the way his brows furrow just slightly, at the way his chest rises and falls in measured breaths. He’s thinking. Hard. And so are you.

The weight of what just happened—what’s still happening—sits between you like a living, breathing thing. It presses into your ribs, wraps around your throat, makes it impossible to speak.

But the silence that follows once again is unbearable.

So you say the only thing that comes to mind.

“Kiri.”

His grip on the wheel tightens for a second before he forces himself to relax. He finally turns his head, meeting your eyes with something unreadable. “Yeah?”

You don’t even know what you want to say. Do you ask him if this is a mistake? If it means anything? If it means too much?

Instead, all that comes -ever so raggedy- out is, “Drive.”

He nods once, turning the key in the ignition. The truck rumbles to life, headlights cutting through the darkness as he pulls onto the road.

Soon, the city stretches out before you, neon lights casting strange reflections on the windshield. The hum of the engine fills the space between you, but it doesn’t drown out the thoughts racing through your mind.

Minutes pass. Maybe hours. You’re not sure. Wasn’t your house a 20 minute drive from Sero’s?

You’re not sure, not quite sure until you arrive, when the lack of Eijiro’s hand on your thigh is unbearable.

The moment he locks his car, both of you move in a rush.

Practically running up the stairs to your apartment, tripping over each other in a frantic, heated blur. Lips, tongues, hands pulling, pressing, taking.

You barely make it to the shower before you’re both tangled up in each other again.

The second the door swings shut behind you, Kirishima’s hands are on you again—steady, grounding, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go.

Neither of you speak as you move toward the shower, exhaustion finally settling in now that the night is behind you. The rush, the panic, the guilt—it’s all faded into something quieter, something heavier. You barely fight for the space, stepping inside together like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

The hot water soothes your skin, washing away the remnants of the night, but not the tension clinging to your chest. Kirishima stands behind you, arms wrapped loosely around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder. His breathing is slow, deep, and for the first time in months, you feel yourself start to relax.

“You okay?” he murmurs, voice thick with exhaustion.

You nod, leaning back against him. “Yeah. Just a little sore”

“Mmm, I can fix that”

He presses a lazy kiss to your damp shoulder, his grip tightening just slightly before he exhales, long and heavy. Neither of you move to leave, letting the water rinse away the weight of everything; said and unsaid.

Fix what? The sound of your beating heart, or the ache in it for more of him? Both?

His hands wander, slow and deliberate, fingers tracing the curve of your waist before sliding lower, pressing warm and firm against your stomach. A quiet, needy sound escapes you when he reaches your thighs, his touch featherlight. His lips find your neck, dragging lazy, open-mouthed kisses across your skin, like he’s memorizing the taste of you, like he can’t get enough.

And then, just when your body melts completely into his, his fingers slip between your thighs.

The first touch is teasing, the softest graze of his fingertips against your clit and folds, but it sends a shiver straight down your spine and your lower stomach. You gasp, your head tilting back against his shoulder as he circles, presses, works you open with patience, practiced ease.

“Want your pussy on my mouth, right now”

The moan that spills from your lips in response is inevitable, breathy and wanting, and Eijiro smiles against your skin, his voice a quiet rumble against your ear before he presses another kiss to the spot that's closer to your lips.

He shifts you just so he can kneel before you and place a kiss to your aching clit. Your breath hitches as his fingers trace up the plush skin of your leg, slowly, just barely grazing where you need him most.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan against you. He retaliates by pressing his tongue to your aching heat, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips.

“Eijiro—” His name slips from your lips in a breathless plea, but he only responds by dragging his tongue up again, his fingers sinking into your skin like he wants to claw your skin off. You hiss at the pain, but get high of the roughness of it.

One of his hands slides higher, palm pressing hard against your stomach before trailing lower again. He curls his tongue against you, circling it on your clit. He absolutely looks and sounds as if he’s devouring you. And you just can’t get enough.

Then, when he has you completely pressed against the wall, his fingers join the torturous rhythm of his mouth, slipping between your folds, teasing, pressing, pushing until your head falls back. Guttural noises swallowed between your thighs, his breath hot and ragged against your skin as he enters you with two fingers.

Dazed by how good it feels, you stop caring about the temperature of the water anymore, you buck your hips against his mouth. Chasing a release.

His licks get sloppy, his rhythm too and he opens his eyes to look at you. 

“Want you to come on my fucking tongue” he says between smacking sounds, like he’s drunk on you. 

He sucks your clit, licking at it again as he twists his fingers inside you. Your legs start shaking like earlier, but you don’t get embarrassed about it this time. Eijiro, as if he doesn’t want you to pressure yourself even a bit, shrugs his shoulder on your leg, signing at you to hook it over his shoulder. You do it, wordlessly.

This new angle has him feral on you. He nibbles and licks, either with the flat of his tongue or with the tip of it. 

You’re lost in the sensation, every nerve alight. You can feel the rawness in the way he moves, while he’s completely focused on you, as if the world has disappeared and it’s only the two of you left.

You jerk under his ministrations; it’s a warning. A telltale sign that you’re going to come soon.

And when you finally do—when your body tenses, then shudders with release—he doesn’t stop. He rides it out, dragging every last wave of pleasure from you until you’re left breathless, completely at his mercy.

Only then does he pull away, his lips slick, his eyes dark with something unreadable as he looks up at you. For a moment, neither of you speaks—just a silent understanding that passes through the air.

By the time you dry off and slip into bed, the exhaustion is impossible to ignore and he hasn’t fixed any soreness, if anything he’s made it worse, but you don’t dare to point it out to him. He plops onto your bed and pulls you close without hesitation, tucking you against his chest like it’s instinct, like it’s where you’ve always belonged. You coo into the touch, set on using the air conditioner for tonight, just so you can let him warm you up.

You kiss the middle of his chest, and he almost flinches at how soft the action is.

Eijiro’s fingers trace slow, absentminded patterns on your back, the warmth of his body lulling you into something dangerously soft, dangerously safe. You’re not sure you’re ever going to fall asleep without being in his arms ever again, but your kisses on his chest, his collarbones and neck, don't stop.

“You’re not leaving, right?” you murmur, barely awake by now. Desperate for anything that’ll let you be at ease to fall asleep.

His arms tighten around you. “Not tonight.” He says and he kisses the top of your head.

It’s the last thing you hear—or feel, before sleep pulls you under, his steady heartbeat the only thing keeping the rest of the world where he’s in, at bay. Just for tonight.

You’ll deal with Mina and Heartbreak Co. Tomorrow.

_______

When the morning comes you realise, you want to be domestic. Casual. Just like this.  

When you wake up curled under his enormous bicep, long red hair sprawled messily all over his chest, mingling with yours, with you, there's a false notion as to why he's here still. Though you can't dive into it right now, with your eyes begging you to shut them close again and the bigger part of your brain begging you to fall back asleep. But you can't..

That itchy corner in the back of your mind won't let you.

Because Eijiro is here. Holly fucking hell, Eijiro is sleeping right under you.

You've never seen him asleep -the time you slept on each other for a good 30 minutes doesn't really count- and you're itching to lay your eyes on him. To steal a glance, to imprint the image in your brain. To create a memory because you're not so sure youre gonna see him again after this, utterly convinced last night was a petty fuck to the result of being high and drunk at Mina's party. 

Then again that's Kirishima for you. 

But, despite the fact that you feel angst in your soul, looking at the way the sun reflects on his skin makes you think that anything he did last night is just so sweet of him. To give you a dose of something so addicting, just when you were getting over him. something to grab onto so you dont forget him, so you remember him. 

You're not sure you've slept this well in ages. You already know you'll spend endless sleepless nights staring at your ceiling wishing you could rest like this again, or maybe wishing you hadn't slept at all, so you could savor every single second with him.

You’re gonna miss this moment terribly and you know it. But then again, you'll miss something that doesn't exist. You crave days like this, their non-existence. It's what makes them more desirable. you want what you cant have and it's killing you. 

Your throbbing head and the heavy blanket that sleep is, condemn you unconscious again, the second you feel warm and safe once more. A heaving chest that won't stop hurting is nothing compared to how tiring the previous night has been—it's nothing before the continuation of that dream that you were watching. In desperation to continue it, you melt in the only embrace that makes you ignore the sunlight so you can fall asleep again. 

When Kirishima opens his eyes it's like reality comes crashing in. He pays little attention to you, such as to lift you off of him and stand on his butt, in search of his phone, nervously and just so keen on not waking you up still. 

‘Good morning’ you utter, so lightly that you're not really sure he can hear it, he's not sure you understand what you're uttering either. 

‘Good morning babe’ he smiles, lightly. 

There's a kiss planted at the top of your head and had you been awake you'd either coo at its healing properties or chew him out. Both of these outcomes are too scary for him though, but perhaps, one is more slightly manageable than the other. 

A quick ramming of your fridge for anything edible follows; He’s rushing to the kitchen after he kisses you, the rustling sounds dragging you from the edge of sleep. You groan softly, stretching beneath the warm sheets, but you don’t open your eyes. Not yet. You want to savor this—just a few more seconds of pretending. Pretending that this is normal, that this is real. That mornings like this aren’t borrowed time.

Kirishima hums under his breath as he moves around your kitchen, the sound of cabinets opening and closing filling the quiet space. You should probably get up, but instead, you burrow deeper into your pillow, inhaling the faint scent of him still lingering on your sheets.

Maybe you’ll just never wash them again, right? So they’ll smell like him forever…

You don't know how long you lay there, stuck in that limbo between wanting to hold onto this moment forever and knowing you can't. Eventually, though, curiosity wins. You shuffle out of bed, padding barefoot toward the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

He's standing by the counter, shirtless, hair messy, flipping through his phone with a piece of toast hanging from his mouth. The sight of him in your home, in your space, like this, makes your stomach twist. Because this… this is just what you want.

Domestic. Casual. Just. Like. This. 

He glances up when he hears you, grinning around the toast. “Mornin’ again, babe.”

You roll your eyes, ignoring the way your chest tightens at the nickname. “You found food?”

Kirishima shrugs, handing you the second piece of toast from his plate. “You don’t have much, but I made do.”

You take it wordlessly, biting into it as you lean against the counter next to him. Like he counts your bites for his own personal enjoyment, when you swallow your last bite, he’s suddenly leaning into you. Perhaps, for a kiss, if you would have it.

His movements are slow, deliberate—like he’s testing the waters, waiting to see if you’ll pull away. His eyes flicker to yours, searching, but you don’t move. You don’t stop him. You don’t stop him when he traps your chin between his fingers.

Instead, you hold your breath as he leans in, the warmth of him so close, the scent of soap and something uniquely him filling the space between you.

It’s not hurried or desperate, not like last night. This isn’t a kiss born from impulse or alcohol or the reckless heat of a party. This is something softer, something that lingers. Like those ones in Sero’s bathroom.

His lips brush against yours, featherlight, hesitant—giving you the chance to change your mind. But you don’t. You tilt your chin up, closing the distance, and the second your lips fully meet his, something inside you melts.

Kirishima exhales against your mouth, a sound almost like relief, like he’d been hoping for this, waiting for this. His fingers brush against your hip, not holding, just resting there, as if grounding himself in the moment.

The kiss is slow, unhurried, like he wants to savor every second. You let yourself do the same.

When you finally pull back, he’s still close enough that his breath ghosts over your lips. His eyes flicker open, warm, red as rubies and full of something you can’t quite detect.

You swallow. “What was that for?”

Kirishima grins, small and easy, like this is the most natural thing in the world. “Felt like the right thing to do babee.”

And when he leans in again, you don’t stop him.

“Don't call me that”

When he cocks his head to the side to look at you and he looks so cute at that, like a puppy, confused and with glimmering eyes, that’s when he laughs too, perfectly and and oh—you hate him by the way.

“Kay then” he kisses you and takes another bite of his toast before he chews his nexts words out “check your phone, Mina has been calling you non stop”

You groan, dropping your head against his chest for just a second before sighing and peeling yourself away. His warmth lingers, but the real world is creeping back in, persistent and unwelcome.

Your phone is face down on the counter, screen lighting up with yet another call from Mina. Just in time. You hesitate, glancing at Kirishima, who watches you with a strangely adorning expression, leaning against the counter like he has all the time in the world.

“You gonna answer?” he teases, nudging your hip with his, almost mocking the way Mina hip bumped him away from you last night.

Secretly, he wishes you don’t pick up. Just let him have a moment of comfortable silence with you.

You sigh dramatically, pouting, your shoulders almost drawn to your ankles, looking like a wet cat, before swiping to accept the call. “Mina, before you start yelling—”

‘Put her on speaker’ he mouths, but you ignore him.

“Oh, hell no!” Mina’s voice nearly bursts through the speaker, loud and full of chaotic energy. “Don’t you dare act like I wasn’t gonna start yelling! Where the hell are you? You left!—no text, no nothing! And guess who else was missing? Kirishima! Sero said he saw you and I didn't believe him and oh my gooood, girl, no!”

Kirishima snorts, completely unbothered. He steals the toast from your hand and takes a bite, cheeky as ever. You shoot him a glare, but he just grins and mouths busted over and over again.

“Relax, Mina,” you sigh. “I’m fine. I’m home. I just woke up.”

“Oh, I know you’re fine.” She gasps dramatically. “Wait, are you with him right now?”

You pause for half a second too long.

“You totally are!” Mina shrieks, and you have to hold the phone away from your ear. Kirishima just laughs, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. He towers beside you, tilting his head toward the phone. “Morning, Mina.” His voice is all lazy amusement, like he’s enjoying this way too much. Like he won.

“Oh, hell no, don’t ‘morning, Mina’ me! What the hell happened? Wait, don’t answer that—I don’t wanna know. Or maybe I do? Ugh! I’m having an existential crisis about your love life, what is this?”

You groan, covering your face with your hand. “Mina, I swear, it’s not a big deal—”

Mina’s voice explodes through the speaker, sharp and furious. “Are you kidding me right now?!  I was worried! What was I supposed to think when you just vanished with him?! I’ve been losing my damn mind trying to figure out if you were dead in a ditch somewhere?!”

Kirishima snickers, leaning in slightly.

“Ughhhhhh, I’ll see you later, Mina, Byeeeeee” you say quickly before hanging up, not giving her a chance to interrogate you further.

The moment you set your phone down, Kirishima is already grinning at you. “Busted,” he repeats playfully.

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms and pout. “I hate you.”

~All rights reserved: @/strawberry-nugget, 2025. Please do not copy, over write or steal my work.

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[katiascraft]

- chapter six - and there was happiness  because of you too, right?

✐ᝰ "You knew all too well i was right where you left me" | CL16 ࣪𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊

parings: retired!charles leclerc x writer!ex!reader

summary: carlos confronted y/n in front of charles in the worst way possible. but fortunately (or unfortunately) he made what needed to be done to put the two together "by (twisted) fate".

series masterlist

BLOG MASTERLIST

Charles was scared and worried when he saw your light turning on by the minute. His eyes wanting to leave his face when he saw you in your marvel pajamas again. Your hair was a mess and your face had the darkest circles under your eyes. Your face puffy as if you were crying or you did before you went to sleep and then they woke you up. He felt as guilty as when he realized he left the love of his life stuck in that fucking restaurant you both loved so much. 

His heart was racing in a way he hadn’t felt for so long. He got scared it was about to have a panic attack in front of your house. In front of you, showing how weak he still is for you but like in a very twisted way. Carlos’ voice got him out of his mind abruptly. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you bitch? Huh? Stop torturing my friend!” Carlos said aggressively to you when you opened the front door of your white and pastel green beach house you owned. 

If you thought your day couldn’t get worse, then you were oh so wrong. 

There he was. Standing and cheeks red. His face showed panic. You could feel he was scared by the way his eyes went bigger listening to what his friends had said. Carlos’ face was a work of art. Rage all over his face. His body language was violent. He hated you so much, it was visible. Palpable. Evident. Heartbreaking too. 

Your whole face just hurt. Tears irritated your skin so you looked red. And you were sure you looked terrible. Whole face was swollen and puffy. You felt more depressed in that instant. There so vulnerable in front of two men. And one of them being the love of your life. Or… your past love of your life? You weren’t sure at all after last weekend where you touched and have seen franco in a different light. Your heart still heavy about it and how you treated him. You hated yourself so much. You just couldn’t believe you could make yourself be even more miserable. 

 But you had to stand up for yourself because you were also confused by what Carlos just said. 

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about carlos. And i don’t know what charles told you but we didn’t even talk… and i don't even know why the hell i'm giving you an explanation you don't deserve” frustration was visible in the way you voice sounds deeper than normal. Different from what he heard at the ice cream shop and the way you talked to him. And also your smile was gone. Like every time he appears in your life. Because he only brings you pain. And nightmares. Or at least that’s what he thought. 

“Um, y/n I'm really sorry, really” Charles said, panicked and then turned over to Carlos “c’mon mate, let’s go. Don’t do this. There’s no need, you know?” He grabbed carlos’ wrist and pulled him a bit away. But Carlos was looking straight at you. Hate was converting him into the devil. 

“Don’t play the fool, darling. You know what I'm talking about. You love to make him feel miserable by the mistake he committed! You’re evil! Twisted! Stay away from him!” Carlos was out of control. Charles shook his head not knowing what to do. He looked at you ashamed that he even blushed. Seeing him like that broke your heart. You swallowed hard and just so fed up with everything and anything related to Charles and the bagage of your story, you closed the door on their faces, determined to go to bed and cry. You closed your eyes for a second because your head was pounding. All you could see were his eyes.

But you just couldn’t be like that for long because Carlos started knocking on your door and telling you to open the door right away. You could hear Charles telling him to calm down desperately and telling him to go home. But Carlos was so drunk he couldn’t even think straight. You could hear it in his voice. You sighed not knowing what to do. 

But then silence took all over the place like they were never there. And that’s when after a few seconds you hear deep breathing.

“Just please Carlos, let’s go home” charles’ voice was broken and after hearing him talk you could hear him sobbing. Carlos was silent. Your heart started racing. 

It didn’t feel right  so you opened the door. 

They looked at you. Charles was a wreck. Carlos seemed calmed but worried. He was holding charles’ arm. 

“I’m sorry mate” Carlos finally said.

“Charles, you wanna come in? For a glass of water” you finally spoke out loud without thinking. Like you kinda surprised yourself. Charles looked up at you a bit confused but then he nodded. You gave him a soft smile. And awkward too. 

This whole situation was weird. 

Carlos was about to say something but you interrupted him “you’re not invited. Sorry not sorry” you told him and snapped the door on his face. Asshole. He didn’t even know you and that’s his presentation card? But he knew my name. That must be charles’ work. This is insane though. You turned away from the door to find Charles awkwardly standing there in the middle of your living room waiting for instructions or permission. 

“Sorry” you said softly but he shook his head gently. 

“No problem, it’s okay. He sometimes is an asshole” he explained more calmly than a few seconds ago. 

“Feel at home” you finally said after a few seconds of just looking at each other. It felt strange yet nice to have him in your place. “Take a seat i’ll go for a glass of water” you said to go running to the kitchen to say so. 

Charles looked around. There were a lot of frames of your nephews almost everywhere. He sat on your couch. It was really comfy and soft. Your perfume was everywhere and it was the same perfume you used back in the day. For a moment he felt safe and that weirded himself out a bit. He is supposed to hate you, right? He tried to wipe his face dry. He felt ridiculous there in his ex’ house again after so many years. He knew all too well he shouldn’t be here. But he wanted to. 

He heard how you took a glass from the counter and poured water straight into it from the sink. He played with his fingers nervously waiting for you to come back. He was trying to think straight because he was really drunk as well. Although he was hoping you didn’t notice, it was probably obvious. 

“Here you are,” you said softly, handing him the glass that he took gently. A tiny smile appeared on his face. 

“Thank you, y/n. And I'm sorry again for what Carlos did. I really don’t know why he did that” he tried to explain nervously. You shook your head with a half smile. 

“It’s okay. To be honest, he's an asshole but I am as well. I would have understood if you thought that about me too. So it’s okay. No bad blood. I get you were partying” he watched your lips while you were talking. They were dry and pale. Then he looked at your eyes. “And, sorry for calling the cops i was having a really shitty day to be honest and i needed to sleep”

“I’m sorry, i can go” he was about to stand up in a rush but you took his arm softly not letting him stand up. 

“Stay. it’s fine” he looked at you and sat down in slow motion almost.

·”you’re apartment it’s really nice” he didn’t know what to say. You gave him a real smile now. One he thought he was daydreaming of how beautiful it looked by the warm lightbulb that was involving you two in that living room. 

“Thank you. It took me a few years to figure it out but now I'm really happy with it” you explained and he blushed.  

“It really represents you… I think” he thought this could be taken as disrespectful because he didn’t know you in the current. But he went with it anyway. He spoke before even thinking about it. So many years of pe training yet with you apparently doesn't work. 

“Yeah… I guess” you looked away just trying to think what to say or what to do. 

“I read your book” what he said came out of nowhere and it felt like an ice bucket challenge. You looked straight at him. Not knowing if it was good or bad or why he even mentioned it. “I loved it to be honest. I didn’t know you liked writing but I wasn’t surprised it was so well delivered because you were always good with words and feelings. You’re so talented” he expressed his hands shaking a little for some reason. 

“Thank you” you said through a dry laugh. “Guess I’m not really good with words really, like in real life. And they were never really useful either nor that they were important” you shrugged. 

“They did matter and they do matter i'm sure” he intervened.

“Did they?” You didn’t want to be a snake but you were still hurt and you hated still being hurt because it was ten fucking years ago yet he is still here and now it’s not only on your mind but in your stupid couch as well. 

He adjusted himself on the couch, nervous and uncomfortable with where the conversation was going. 

“I regret it,” he said after a long silence. “I fucking regret taking that decision and leaving you. I don’t even know why I thought at that moment that was the best but I did and I can’t change it but I wish I could. and I know now it’s like a joke that I'm telling you this and I'm the same man that left you there alone and broken. But I can’t stop thinking about you. What you wrote in that book was so beautiful and devastating I hate myself that I put you through all of that. That I hurt you so much that you had to write that. You were important. You mattered to me. But I was stupid. And I’m still am for feeling stuck in that fucking restaurant. I looked for you. Since I saw you that day I looked for you the following days at the coffee shop. I went there and read your book. I wanted to see you again and then I saw you at the ice cream shop. Like fate it’s cruel and twisted. I thought those kids were your children. And I thought about all of these dreams I have mostly every night where we are happily ever after and I wanted to die. I really did. Because I committed the greatest mistake of my life. Losing the only girl who saw me for me and made me feel all those things I never felt again. Everything was just so empty and blue-“ he had to stop when he saw you crying. 

“Stop Charles, please. You can’t come and tell me all of this. Like it is nothing like it can be fixed because it can’t be. You broke me in so many ways you can’t say all that shit, please. You don’t mean it” you just couldn’t keep on listening to him. His words cut through you like daggers. It was painful and unbearable. 

“Nono, I do mean it. I really do, y/n. And I know and I get it - I don’t deserve your apology and I know like saying sorry won’t fix anything I know it won’t but I feel all of these things I need to tell you. I've watched you from Carlos’ house and -“ 

“And are you a creep as well?!” 

“Nono, y/n, please. No, I am not a creep. I just - I didn’t know you were carlos’ neighbor. But he wanted you, that he didn’t know it was you either, to meet our friend Lando and you were there writing in your balcony and my world just went upside down from there. Out of nowhere you started to be everywhere and… and I don’t know what that means but I’m like… I really want it to mean something”

You looked at him not believing your eyes or your ears. You just stood up confused and tried to wipe your face and get yourself together. “You don’t mean that Charles, you don't. Please, just, don’t play with me like this” you were almost begging your drunk ex and you felt pathetic. He stayed silent just watching you. 

“Please, y/n… can we try to be friends at least?” He said with a shaky voice almost in a whisper. He was about to cry as well. You just couldn’t deal with any of this no more. Your brain was rotting. You felt like you were about to die. 

“I can’t do this right now Charles. Just… rest till your head is clear again. There is the guest room, use it as your own. There are pijamada and everything. I need to sleep. Goodnight” you just run up your stairs leaving him behind like some funny paradox. You just throw yourself into your bed not wanting to think or feel anything probably forever but at least till the next day. 

Charles was left with his heart on his hand and his words on the top of his tongue. He watched you while you headed up stairs and disappeared. He was left alone in your empty and unbearably silent living room. He then looked at the door you indicated was the guest room. He took a really deep breath. Was he about to sleep at your place? Funny, huh? He felt stupid. What was he thinking? 

Finally with no other remedy, he got into the guest room. It was beautifully decorated with a lot of paintings. He looked at them closely to see that it was your signature at the bottom of each of them. You painted them. You painted flowers and landscapes. The Mónaco view. The beach. Autumn. All of your favorite things he thought. They were beautiful. Then he turned to the bed, it spooked really comfy. But first he needed clothes so he walked to the closet and when he opened it, there were as you said a lot of pijamada in different sizes. It was a bit weird but maybe you liked to be ready and prepared for anything that happened unexpectedly. Like your ex sleeping here. Totally normal. He laughed to himself a bit. He was sure he was going mad. He finally got changed in the guest’s bathroom and laid in bed. Even the ceiling was judging him. He didn’t feel okay with this but his blind needed to rest so he fell asleep almost immediately. 

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

‘maybe the invisible string does exist and maybe that’s why he is back at my house snoring loudly in the guest room’

You sighed when you finished writing in your journal like every morning. You were fried. You couldn’t sleep that much because memories of what you and Charles used to torment you all night. But at least two hours are two hours of sleep. You had a few meetings today so you hoped Charles woke up in at most an hour. You are drinking water on your couch, not hungry at all. But you obliged yourself to prepare breakfast for Charles. 

You decided to prepare waffles with berries and blueberries, and a latte. You guessed it was still Charles' favorite type of coffee to drink in the morning. And you hated yourself for remembering that too. For remembering all too well. 

“Morning” his deep voice echoed in the kitchen and you turned around to greet him.

“Morning, Charlie. I made waffles and latte, you want some? I bet you are hungry… and also I have aspirin if you are hungover” you said light and smiley. You didn’t want it to be weird even if you thought of it like it. 

“Wow, thanks. I’ll take everything” he said, showing his dimples. He was already wearing the clothes he wore yesterday. You handed him the aspirin and a glass of water and while he took it, you set his breakfast in front of him. He observed you. You looked beautiful even like this. He saw it was breakfast for just one person. “Aren’t you hungry?” He asked and you denied with your head. He sat in front of you in the aisle and started eating. “Thank you for letting me stay, the bed was more comfy that the one I use at Carlos’. It’s really nice of you all of this and again… i’m sorry but I hope we can talk about it someday if you want to” he said while enjoying what you cooked for him. You half smiled. 

“Yeah, it’s okay. Maybe we can talk about it tomorrow or when you’re able. I think it would be nice if we talk things through and make things clear” you agreed with him. After having the whole morning by yourself, you came to the conclusion that you need to talk about everything. You owe yourself that. The opportunity to clear your mind with him and finally move on. 

Right?

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

yourusername made a post

liked by nikbff , francolapinto , agosbff , charlesleclerc and other 765,435 users.

yourusername: just a bunch of meetings and watching hours of footage of castings for all too well the movie cast 🤓☝🏻who would you like to see?????

view all comments

agosbff: could you also be casted?

⤷ yourusername: I can’t even lie and you want me to ACT

⤷ francolapinto: stick to writing books ur good at it

⤷ yourusername: die 💋

⤷ francolapinto: but you admitted it! and we still need to talk

⤷ yourusername: we are on main 🙃

⤷ francolapinto: I KNOW 🥰

⤷ yourusername: talk to me in YOUR dreams BYE

⤷ agosbff: can you both talk already?

⤷ nikbff: THAT’s WHAT I SAID

⤷ francolapinto: NO🩷

⤷ user1963: TALK ABOUT WHAT?!?!

⤷ user23: is this a soft lunch?

⤷ user1: talk about when are you going to say ur dating??? That’s it?

⤷ user865: THEY ARE FRIENDS EVERYONE CALM DOWN

arthurleclerc: can I send my casting to play the main character’s brother? I think I can be good at it :)

⤷ jadedistinguinn: I wanna be part of it too :3

⤷ user861: im confused

⤷ user975: still can’t believe bro reads girl books

user089: anybody is gonna talk about CHARLES LECLERC in the likes???? I see you buddy

⤷ user752: maybe Arthur know things

⤷ user23: HE KNOWS

taylorswift: think I’m perfect for the main role actually 🤓☝🏻

⤷ yourusername: check your dms princess

zendaya: girlfriend 😍 ur so pretty marry me

⤷ tomholland: EXCUSE ME ????

⤷ zendaya: sorry im gay just for HER

⤷ yourusername: I LOVE YOU LOVE OF MY LIFE

⤷ tomholland: I want the ring back

user885: if anybody cares i would like to see chris evans and scarlett johanson *like by yourusername*

⋆˚࿔ TO BE CONTINUED 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

tag list: @a-beaverhausen , @annaluna12 , @thehoplessromanticclub , @emryb , @hadids-world , @kaztheemyth , @freyathehuntress , @diorbrxtz , @theseerbetweenus , @sie17136 , @leila-030304 , @charlesgirl16 , @ricciardosheart , @weekendlusting , @flowerpotterr , @aundercover ,

don’t forget to like, reblog or comment! And follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together)

[burningcheese-merchant]

It's so cool to see CRK getting popular again, it feels so refreshing like so much new quality fan content dropping that we couldn't even DREAM about a couple of months ago, but it hurts my very soul seeing new players being interested in beast x ancient ships, in their dynamics, asking is it okay to ship it and getting slapped in the face with another "IT'S ABUSER X VICTIM IT'S A PROSHIP IT'S A DARKSHIP" (which is just not true) killing off all the fun, bc apparently enemies to lovers, AUs and what-ifs doesn't exist anymore and everything that isn't pure fluff is illegal now. "IT'S NOT ENEMIES TO LOVERS, BEASTS ABUSED AND TORTURED THEM" yeah THAT'S WHAT ENEMIES DO??? What else do you expect from a villain honestly??? Like in ANY media??? Beasts still got their ass beat in the end as they totally deserve BECAUSE ANCIENTS ARE NOT SOFT INNOCENT SMALL BABIES THAT NEED TO BE PROTECTED, they're grown ass IMMORTAL ADULTS with huge responsibilities, they rule kingdoms, they hold a huge power in their hands, they're imperfect and not innocent. They can stand for themselves, they can fight, they can destroy, they can lie and they WILL if they need to.

I can SMELL that a shit tonne of people in this fandom secretly enjoys beast x ancient as a guilty pleasure, a forbidden fruit, but they will never admit it just because they're afraid of being harassed and bullied and it's just sad how normalized it is to hurt actual people over shipping some mobile game characters, who are adults, doesn't have power imbalance between them and aren't related.

And allat coming from ME, who doesn't ship a single beast x ancient ship

It's sad lol. Sad for the Beast x Ancient community and honestly kind of pathetic for ardent detractors at this point. I've seen sooooo many Beast x Ancient fans get harassed and even sent death threats, it's not even funny (not that it ever was in the first place). Don't you have better things to do than get this mad about video games lol. Like a job or school or a hobby or something

You're right, the Ancients are not helpless widdle babies and I'm kind of sick of how often they're infantilized, in general and just for the sake of tearing down BxA. They're grown adults who are thousands of years old. Two of them are parents, whose children are grown adults themselves. 4 of 5 founded entire nations. 1 is an active ruler still (Cacao), one seeks to rule again (Golden). Let's not kid ourselves, they've probably all got blood on their hands (not to the degree the Beasts do, but still. You don't live that life without having to make tough choices). Stop treating them like porcelain dolls lol. Yes, the Beasts attacked them, but they're villains. That's what villains do. Go play Animal Crossing if you can't handle heroes and villains fighting each other lol

And then I get a laugh whenever those same people who screech about toxicity and abuse and yadda yadda turn around and ship H*llyt*ya or Sh*dowSp*ce. The former is BxA in a different costume. The latter... Man. You know. Because TWO deranged maniacs, who are fundamentally incompatible in every way and do not make sense at all and absolutely would hurt each other and bring each other down I hate that ship so damn much. Do not ask me abt it I WILL ramble and nobody needs that. Zero beef with fans though, we're coolio! Just a difference of opinion!, is such a better option, isn't it lol. Hypocrisy.

I'm sure you noticed that ep 7 + 8 brought out a whole lot of new ShadowVanilla fans. I agree w/ you, I can feel that there are a fuckton of BxA fans lurking in the darkness, waiting for an excuse to poke their heads out (like 7 + 8 lol), only hiding because they don't want to attract lunatics. Even YOU sent this ask anonymously. Most of my inbox is stuff from anons, and I look at them all and wonder, "how many of you are just afraid of backlash for expressing any joy in BurningCheese or any of the other BxA pairs?" It's ok, guys. Don't listen to them. Be you. I'm being me right now, as cringy as I am. I am Extremely Normal about BurningCheese and I'm not ashamed :) they're video game characters at the end of the day, just have fun. Why can't we all just be bros, man, what does any of this matter

[graceisinthelibrary]

Here we go with the next prompt, asked by @cookie-moi. She aksed for no 8 "Don't worry about me, I'm just happy you're safe".

Siegfried was limping. His sciatic was kicking up badly tonight and, leaning on Audrey, he somehow made it onto one of the kitchen chairs. 

“Really, Mr Farnon…” She spared him the mocking glance she had usually reserved for him, probably because she knew he wasn’t exaggerating or faking his pain. After all, he had suffered sciatica when he had lifted her bike out of a deep ditch. One wrong movement and the middle of his body felt like an everlasting spasm. In the end they had managed to tie the bike to his Rover, but she had to drive home, because he couldn’t trust his legs to perform the necessary movements to bring them home in one piece. 

“I’ll bring you a hot water bottle and a tincture.” 

“Whisky,” he said between clenched teeth. He needed something to numb the pain and quickly. 

In a hurry she took off her hat and bag and disposed of them onto her little desk, before she vanished in the depths of the house to collect the necessary remedies. With his forearms firmly pressed on the top of the table, he tried to regulate the pain, but failed. 

“I’m so sorry!” She mumbled upon her return. He shoved a glass of whisky into his hands. “It were all my fault!” 

He gulped down the liquid, created to make him feel sane, and replied with a pale face, “Don’t you worry about me, I’m just happy to know you’re safe.” 

“You don’t look happy to me,” she quipped as she unbuttoned her uniform jacket. 

“Believe me, I am,” he assured her. The reckless driver who had forced her from her bike into the ditch was the one he wished his back pain on. “I’m glad you called me. You know I would pick you up from the ninth circle of hell.” She knew he meant every word of it and she was ever so grateful to him. Siegfried Farnon was truly a man she could rely on, no matter how gruesome the circumstances were.  

Her eyes softened as she watched them, clinging to the table like a mad man. “You should have a lie down,” she suggested. “You need to relax.” 

Feeling guilty, because she had called him out in the middle of the night, she refilled his glass. Naturally, there had always been the possibility to call Mr Bosworth, but she had had no wish to kick up a discussion or have the rule book quoted to her. She had needed someone to help her and as so often she had thought of Siegfried first. And now he was in pain and she felt dreadful about it. 

“Maybe you should see a doctor in the morning.” The idea was unheard of and he dismissed it quickly. “There’s no need for that, Mrs Hall. I’ll be in tiptop shape in no time! You know I happen to possess the very robust…

“Constitution,” she finished the sentence for him. He was so stubborn that it hurt. In the drawer she found a bottle with painkillers and gave him not one but two. He spilled them down with his second whisky. 

As the kettle whistled and she poured the hot water into the pot, she wondered if she would manage to drag him up the stairs on her own or if she should summon Tristan to help. Siegfried would hate the idea and so she decided to postpone the decision until the painkiller unfolded its magic.  

“Let me have a look at your back,” she said instead and dangled the pot with the ointment in front of his nose. “It’ll relax your muscles.” 

He wrinkled his nose, unhappy with the idea to smell of herbs. For a man who often returned home covered with muck, he looked quite childish and he seemed to realise as much as she arched her eyebrow. 

“If it makes you feel better…,” he sighed.  

She made a cross over her heart and helped him to take off his jacket, waistcoat and then his shirt. He unbuttoned the shirt himself, but she pulled it down and she felt herself blushing while her hands glided over his arms. It wasn’t the first time he got rid of his clothes in front of her, but this felt a little different. This wasn’t about her doing his laundry. 

“Lean forward,” she ordered, glad he didn’t have to see her face as she slowly dragged up his undershirt. What she revealed inch by inch didn’t disappoint. Even in his fifties, the man was in good shape, his body still toned. The muscles on his back were impressive, but as her fingers touched him right over his trousers, she felt the strain of the musculature. He hissed with pain as she carefully ran her fingers over his skin, trying to detect the affected area. 

“Don’t move,” she said as her fingers moved under his waistband, a touch so intimate that she wished she hadn’t offered to treat him. But, as she reminded herself, it was her fault and now she had to bear touching him. A touch usually performed by a wife or a capable nurse. 

“That’s the spot,” he complained and pressed both balls of his hand against his eyes. 

“Alright…” Diving her fingers into the pot, she told herself there was nothing embarrassing about it, but as soon as her fingers applied the tincture over his warm skin, her face flushed up again. 

He groaned as she moved her fingers further down. “Sorry,” she whispered, praying the cause for his reaction was pain, and not a result of her intimate touch. They had been bouncing and crossing the lines between employer and employee often enough, but never like this. She quickly pulled down his shirt, but couldn’t help to run her hand along his back one more time. 

What would she give to feel these muscles while tangled up in a passionate embrace! 

Shocked about her trail of thoughts, she took a step backwards. She had no idea where this was coming from, but suddenly her body seemed to remember that it had been ages since she experienced a sexual encounter worthy of the name. Without forewarning she remembered that she was indeed still a woman who longed for a man to hold her. And if said man was as good looking and caring as the man in front of her, her reaction was probably natural. She was only human being after all, her needs were natural, although the vicar probably most likely had a different opinion on the matter. 

“That should do it. Now have a brew and get yourself to bed with a hot water bottle,” she said, turning away. “If it’s not better by tomorrow morning, I’ll call for the doctor.” 

He said nothing in return. He didn’t complain and he didn’t offer a challenge, which wasn’t like him at all. Irritated, because that must mean he had fallen asleep, she turned to find him on his way out of the kitchen. Not that he was quick on his feet, only determined. 

“Mr Farnon!” 

“I’m sorry, Mrs Hall, but I need the bathroom…” He sounded raspy, unsteady, and uneasy. 

As she had done before she pushed her shoulder beneath his armpit and steadied him. “You won’t make it up there on your own,” she scolded him. “I can ask Tris if you…” 

“No…” He tried to steady his breath. “Let’s give it a try…” 

It took them almost five minutes to reach the top of the staircase that had never felt that long. As she dragged him through the half darkness, she felt his warm breath on her cheek. Glad for the limited illumination she found it easier to deal with her own raging emotions. Sure that the adrenaline caused by the accident had played a part in her unseemly thoughts about him, she told herself it would pass. Tomorrow she would wake up, knowing it had been a fleeting moment of silliness. And the next time she would call Bosworth for help. 

“There we are,” she whispered as they reached the bathroom. Unsteadily he moved inside and she waited until he showed up again, before she helped him to his bedroom door. 

She knew the room too well. Every day she entered it, opened the windows, and made up the bed. She changed his bed clothes and looked after his garments, darned his socks. His male scent was everywhere just like his books, and his other, most private possessions. Suddenly she didn’t want to go in, because she feared she might do something she would regret… Visions of them tangled up in his sheets, their bodies intertwined, torn apart by lust, filled her mind and wouldn’t go away… It was the adrenaline, she told herself. She had read about its impact on people after an accident. It was just adrenaline… 

“Thank you…” he whispered. “I can manage on my own from here.” 

“You sure?” She asked, relieved and disappointed at the same time. 

“Positive.” His voice sounded hoarse. 

“I’ll get you a brew and the hot water bottle…” She opened the door for him and watched him as he limped inside the room. With his hand pressed into his back, he headed straight towards his bed. 

As she withdrew she needed a moment to collect herself. She leaned backwards against the wall and drew a deep breath, wishing herself back into the ditch. Somehow it had felt safer there…  

[beemochi-art]

https://www.tumblr.com/beemochi-art/775082940124332032/did-jazz-just-up-and-leave-snow-and-punch-without?source=share

Sorry if it's a odd question-

How Snow was after Jazz left (since I understand he feels guilty)?

Was this the day that Punch realized he was a bad parent? Or was it later?

Snow honestly thought Jazz would come back. Jazz would always disappear for a couple of days when he was angry. But once a full week had passed Snow began searching. But Jazz was an expert at eluding his dad. Then Snow had to prepare for his second kid and he just kind of gave up. He’s incredibly guilty and it’s effected how he raises his daughter. He’d choose his daughter over Punch any day. He doesn’t want to make the same mistake he did with Jazz and will forever mourn what he lost.

Snow is able to always put on a happy mask but deep down he is depressed and will sometimes do odd things to cope. He misses Jazz.

He wouldn’t see Jazz again till Jazz was an adult. Jazz allows him a little bit of contact every now and again. Once the two had a long discussion about Jazz’s boundaries, Snow will adhere to them too the best of his abilities.

Punch is… a complicated case. He thought he was a bad parent for not having the means to take care of Jazz in the first place. Then the incident with Jazz’s eyes. He started to detach himself from Jazz, really distancing himself because he believed he failed so miserably already. To the point when Jazz would seek him out Punch would be irritated with him.

He was really just doing it to hurt himself. When Jazz would try to give him gifts or say he loved him Punch would get reminded how bad he really was and how he was ruining something good. It was easier for Jazz to hate him. So when Jazz left, Punch thought it was the best thing for him.

Then he started to worry about him and miss him. Everything would remind him about how bad he was. Punch was not in the proper mental state to have another child when he did. He cried a lot, he didn’t deserve her. However Punch swore he’d never mess up as bad as he did with Jazz. He felt guilty for taking good care of her, gifts, love, spending time together, would just remind him of Jazz. Punch would breakdown pretty often. He wished someone would treat him like he treated Jazz. But it’s not in Punch or his daughter’s nature to treat him badly.

He’s much older now and not as emotional and more timid. He thought he was numb towards the whole situation, but when Snow and his daughter told Punch that Jazz had a relationship with them and wanted nothing to do with him, all the old emotions came back but also some new ones. Punch was actually happy, not because Jazz doesn’t want see him. But mostly it was like a bittersweet feeling? He was happy knowing Jazz is alive and thriving. It gives him a lot of comfort to just hear that Jazz is doing good. He lives off hearing about the smallest details. There are something’s Snow isn’t allowed to tell Punch of course.

Punch knows there is no way to make things right. He’d do anything for a second chance or even just to get a glimps of him. But Lunch doesn’t want to hurt Jazz anymore then he has so he’ll keep his distance.

[im-a-mess-of-a-person]

the black sisters

i feel like the black brothers get so much attention in the fandom compared to the black sisters, so here are some headcanons i have!

————————————————————————

they were completely inseparable they were younger

andy and bella in particular. people would often mistake them for twins, to which they would giggle and play along

cissa hated this so much, because she didn’t look like them and she just wasn’t as close with them

she felt like she didn’t look enough like a black and was a disappointment for it

she even tried to dye it, but she still didn’t look right

there were some rumors about her true parentage, considering she looked nothing like the rest of her family

bella shot these down and threatened anywho me who dared to speak ill of her sweet baby sister

she was always very protective and kind to both of her sisters

she considered andy’s elopement the ultimate betrayal

they had been slowly growing apart anyway, but that solidified it

narcissa saw what happened when andy dared to follow her heart, so she shoved hers away and cut out the only person who it would ever belong to (alice)

she found lucius kind of repulsive, but he was a safe and secure husband

draco was the first thing that gave her life meaning since alice

when nymphadora was born, narcissa went to visit and meet her

bellatrix did not

narcissa loved both regulus and sirius equally

andromeda loved regulus a little less

bellattix loved sirius a lot less

bellatrix never wanted to marry

she wanted power, and marriage was essentially handing over her sovereignty

she refused to become a mother. it was her worst nightmare

she drank a potion that would make her infertile. she never told a soul and everyone assumed her barrenness was a terrible misfortune

it was one of the only choices she ever made for herself

she felt guilty about it for the rest of her because she felt she had disgraced her family with her selfishness

narcissa’s biggest hope was to become a mother, but sex with a man repulsed her

she considered asking lucius if they could do it a different way, but she decided it wasn't worth it

draco’s conception was the only time she ever slept with him

it was worth it, for a child

andromeda always wanted to have more kids, but she actually had a hard time getting pregnant

nymphadora was sort of a miracle baby

andromeda ended up the happiest of them all, but the abscence of her sisters left a hole in her heart

narcissa was happy enough, but she always regretted losing the two best people in her life, alice and andromeda

bellatrix was just…insane. there was nothing tying her down because she would never let anybody matter to her. andromeda, who had mattered the most to her, betrayed her and hurt her

she wouldn’t let it happen again, so she kept everyone at arms length. that combined with her time in azkaban drove her mad.

they all regretted the way things were left between them, but none of them knew how to fix it, so they never tried.

[randomfoggytiger]

Collector's Edition: Mulder, Scully, and Season 8 Healing

Here's my heart. *plop* You now hold it in your hands.

I kept this list a little tortured but not dark. A little angst, but on the mend. A little "oh no" leading to an inevitable "oh yes." A little bit of "Does Mulder know he's the father?" and "Mulder assumed anyway" to keep things hoppin'.

So! Let's read some post Three Words healing, shall we?

**Note**: Honorary mention goes to Jenna Tooms's Season 9 AU “An Acceptable Level of Happiness” , which tackles a lot of Mulder's lingering PTSD from Scully's perspective (scars are mentioned.)

Loose chronological order below~

pinebluffvariant's

Allo

She almost wishes she was showing already, so words would be unnecessary. We’re having a baby, Mulder, her body would sing, we made this, you and I. I’m so happy you’re here. She checks with his speech therapist: he has no comprehension or processing issues. She’ll tell him soon. They'll deal with all of it, anything the world throws their way, the nightmares and the daydreams and the everyday.

AU-- Post Requiem Mulder is returned two months later, aphasic but on the mend.

On Re-Entry

Scully sits with one hand on her growing belly and looks him square in the eye. She is beautiful. She is frightening. She feeds him vanilla pudding and he tries to make a joke about it, tries to wink and rasp to her that this flavor is his second favorite in the world, after her. She closes her eyes against her tears and tips her head up. She licks her lips and shakes her head and nods and exhales loudly. She picks up the spoon again.

Once, he tries to reach out to her. 

Three Words Mulder feels stonewalled after each attempt to reach out to Scully.

@ghostbustermelanieking/skuls's

oregon forest

 Mulder doesn’t leave her side at the hospital. It might seem like a given, but Scully knows that it is certainly not, so she is grateful that they are more or less humored. (She assumes it has something to do with Skinner, who keeps looking at them with haunted, guilty eyes. Some clue to how he’s fared since their disappearance.)

AU-- Requiem Mulder and Scully are abducted together.

ashes and dust and here

Scully leaves to find the doctor and Mulder stays in the chair, makes no move towards the stack of clothes in the corner. Maybe he should've tried to go with her; he hates to be alone. His memories rush in like running water, invading the corners of his skull with a piercing sharpness. The ship, the pain. He touches his cheek gingerly, the place where they pinned him, the scars on his chest, but that only grounds him further in the flashbacks. He stares numbly at the wall until he hears Scully behind him, saying, “Mulder, you okay?”

Post Deadalive Mulder is shoved back into his old life-- or into a new life where stimulus, response, repeat seems to be his holding pattern. (And once that mountain is climbed, we get a lil' bit of family fluff.)

s8's roadrunners AU/cold desert nights

She tells him on the bus. After Doggett is finished cutting the slug out of her, because she’s shouting that it needs to be cut out and Mulder wants to do it but he can’t. His hands are shaking too badly. So he holds hers, lets her squeeze the life out of them as she screams, as the cultists pound on the bus, as Doggett pulls out the slug and shoots it. The cultists are dismayed. Mulder can see the flashing lights through the dusty window of the bus. As Doggett runs outside to deal with it all, Scully collapses woozily against his chest. He presses a quivering hand over the bloody wound at the back of her neck, and he realizes only then that she is sobbing.

AU-- Roadrunners Mulder is returned in time to help Doggett rescue Scully.

11!!

He hears footsteps on the other side, and the door unlocks. It swings open to reveal Scully on the other side, dressed in pajamas and visibly pregnant. She has a polite smile on her face, and then it melts away, replaced by shock as she pales rapidly. A hand presses over her stomach. Her mouth opens but nothing comes out.

AU-- Deadalive Mulder is resurrected... without Scully's knowledge.

Idk if you’re taking prompts now

Mulder sighs, his head hanging forward. He takes a deep, shaky breath before saying in a rush, “I haven’t heard from you.”

She looks at him in astonishment. She can feel her nose burning like she’s going to cry. “I… I wanted to give you some space, Mulder,” she murmurs. “I wanted to give both of us some space…”

“I know, but I…” He suddenly looks lost. Incredibly lost, standing in her front hall, his eyes wide, his skin pale. “I… thought I’d hear from you,” he says in a small voice.

Post Three Words Scully drives Mulder back to his apartment, determined to let him have space to sort out his priorities.

MSR 10?

Mulder knocks on the door instead of using his key. It takes several knocks to wake her up. He can hear her shuffling around in the apartment, muttering just a minute sleepily. She swings the door open, and her eyes immediately widen in something that can only be described as horror.

“I needed someone,” he stammers. “And... you were the only one I thought of.”

She is sagging against the doorframe, hand pressed against her extended abdomen, her eyes still widened... no, that’s not horror, it’s confusion. She is staring at him like he’s a ghost. He winces at the terminology. “Scully, it’s me,” he says desperately. 

Scully hopes that Mulder will drift back to her (and he does.)

scully sold her apartment after mulder’s “death.”/staying

He takes a few unsteady breaths, wiping a tear away. “How long is it since you’ve been home, Scully?” he asks softly.

It’s not because he wants her to leave. It’s not that at all. It’s just that he doesn’t know how to deal with this. It’s just that he can’t breathe. And she shouldn’t have to deal with this, not after everything. She should go home and rest.

She doesn’t say anything at first, and he starts to worry. He thumbs a tear out of his eyes and turns towards her, to see the look of astonishment on her face. He is instantly sorry. 

AU-- Three Words Scully is now living in Mulder's apartment.

snow in april (chapter 1 of 8)/snow in april

He reached out, touching her hip and motioned her closer. She crawled on the bed beside him, leaning into his side, and he put his head on her shoulder. “I'm sorry,” she said to his scalp. “It's just…”

“It's okay,” he whispered, touching her wrist. “Don't leave.”

They scooted down on the bed and Scully pulled the thin blanket over them. Mulder hadn't been able to get warm all night, but with her curled around him he was warmer than he'd been in months.

Her swelled abdomen was pressed against his side and he could feel a tiny foot behind it. He knew that at some point they'd have to talk about the baby, but at the moment all he could come up with was, “The baby's kicking.”

She smiled into the side of his neck. “It's been doing that more lately,” she said. “I think it's you.”

Post Three Words Mulder drives them to the mountains, where he and Scully are unable to leave a very dangerous town.

"You're sure it's not twins in there?"

He was staring at her abdomen with a wide-eyed fascination, hand curling around the baby’s foot; she smiled, smoothing a hand over his hair tenderly, and he rested his cheek on her stomach. 

Season 8 Mulder and Scully enjoy some domesticity at last.

@sigritandtheelves/DarlaBlack's

Ground

“There’s something I need to tell you,” she said finally, eyes locked firmly on their feet, on his boots, still scuffed with Oregon mud.

“What?” he asked.

“I… I’m not sure how,” she began, careful with each word, “but it seems that sometime last year, something changed for me. Physically.” She chanced a quick look at him, found only concern and question. He pulled her hand into both of his and squeezed her fingers, offering encouragement. “Whatever infertility I experienced after my abduction… Mulder, it’s gone. I am most certainly not infertile anymore.”

His eyes narrowed at her words, considering them carefully, and then widened as he realized their import—she could almost see his heart beating, could almost hear it over the rattling of the air conditioner. “Scully,” he said. He swallowed. “How do you know?”

AU-- Pre-TINH Scully (and friends) team up to rescue Mulder and live her and her family's life on her terms.

My Life Is in the Falling Leaf

She clung to him as he was piled on the stretcher and maneuvered into the ambulance. His body was healing before her eyes, the scars and wounds disappearing into the ether.... He held her palm against his lips and kissed it. She would not let her fingers leave his body, nor her eyes his face. He read the torment she had suffered, there in her eyes, but had not yet remembered his own. He could answer no questions yet about what had been done to him.

“How long?” His voice was a low susurration that trembled her insides. He fingered the longish strands of her hair, trying to guess by its growth. Her face, too, seemed rounder.

AU-- TINH Mulder is healed in time.

This Last Moment

Months later, when his hand is warm again, but not yet his heart, she wonders if he can see the glue, if he knows that there are pieces missing. She thinks they are both cold and ungrateful. Gratitude requires acceptance, and she is not quite sure if this is real. 

Three Words Scully struggles with Mulder's distant return.

cookies (Ao3)

He’s in the grocery store and he’s not sure what to do. There’s no food in his apartment, which doesn’t feel like home anyway. He picks up a loaf of bread, six eggs, a jar of peanut butter. This is food that people eat, right? He buys waffles.

Post Three Words Mulder buys cookies, alone.

Paresthesia

She rubs his back and the audacity of her comfort breaks him again. He can’t help it, he turns to her, buries his face in her sweater.... “It’s okay,” she whispers, but he can’t stop shaking. Her fingers move through his hair, and he feels her sigh with the contact. “Oh, Mulder,” she says, voice thick with something. His arms come around her waist as best they can. She holds him tight, and they stay like that for long minutes, his face against her belly, her arms around his shoulders and over his back, moving up and down and into his hair. The pain ebbs finally, and in its place flows something once familiar—something that soothes, that holds them together. Love, maybe. This is his Scully, he thinks. He can do this.

Post Three Words Mulder lives in a state of disconnected trauma; and finally, when face with his irrational resentment, crumbles.

(III) Three Iterations of a Birth (and Death) (Ao3)

Before she fell asleep she ran a finger down the center scar of his chest and whispered, “You said stay,” then kissed the thickened skin of it. “But Mulder you need to stay.” Her eyes were two small pricks of light in the darkened room that spoke to him of a deep uncertainty, of real fear.

He gathered her whole self to him in both arms... and said, “I know.” He held his lips to the crown of her head and whispered, “Scully I’m not going anywhere.”

AU-- Post Alone Mulder and Scully finally have "the talk."

Headcanon: Scully’s first Mother’s Day

It’s late—after midnight when she stirs and turns to him. Scully lays her palm along his jaw and shifts her head closer on the pillow. They watch each other and a smile grows on her lips.

Pre-Essence Mulder makes sure Scully gets celebrated.

@myownsuperintendent's “No Secrets”/No Secrets

Mulder feels fine now, really he does, but Scully doesn’t seem to want to listen.  “You need to rest,” she says, ushering him towards his room as they walk into the apartment.  “You’ve been through a lot.”  And he knows where she’s coming from—he remembers after her abduction, the way she had to insist on being back in the field again and even then he wasn’t quite sure about it, and there wasn’t even as much between them in those days.   But resting is the last thing he wants to do right now, when there’s so much else he could be doing.

AU-- TINH Scully finds Mulder dumped in a field, heals his brain disease, and tells him about the baby.

dee_ayy's Burdened

The sight of her continued to shock me, the size of her pregnant stomach visible proof of the length of my absence, and that she had gone on without me. It was yet another thing on the ever-growing list of things I could not, did not want to address or deal with right now. I wouldn't let myself. I'd taken note, and not said a word. And neither had she.

Post Deadalive Mulder overhears the nurses' talk before Scully can properly fill him in.

Kleptomania

“Uh, Scully, where are all my clothes?”

She could feel her cheeks burn as she realized that she had never brought them back from her apartment. She had fully intended on keeping them there after they had buried him, obviously not anticipating any of what had transpired over the past few days. She could feel his gaze on her as she put her head in her hands and mumbled something.

“What?” he asked, not hearing a word she said. She sighed and looked up at him.

“I think we need to make a trip to my apartment,” she said quietly. He raised an eyebrow and tried to hide a smirk.

Three Words Scully and Mulder drive to her place to retrieve his stuff; and while there, the frost begins to thaw.

@baronessblixen/BaronessBlixen's

Three Conversations

“Can I come in or am I persona non grata?” How she’s missed his bad, boring jokes that still always manage to make her smile.

“Come in.”

“Should I have called? I should have called.” He just stands there, his arms hanging limp at his sides as if he has forgotten what do with them. Yesterday morning when he was still at the hospital, Scully returned from yet another bathroom break (courtesy of the baby playing football with her bladder) and found him examining his arms, turning them touching his skin as if it were his first time feeling it under his fingertips.

Three Words Scully and Mulder fumble around their pain and miscommunication back to each other.

Set in “Three Words”./Fictober 2020 - Chapter 14

“See you tomorrow?” she asks, hating how needy she sounds. But she is. Her hands are balled into fists and her nails dig into her skin. She knows Mulder is in there, her Mulder. Stitched together, with the scars to prove it, he’s still healing. There are still echoes of terror in his eyes, darker than she’s ever seen them. Still, underneath all this, there’s the man she loves.

“Huh?” He turns to her, somewhat confused, searching for her eyes. Has he not been listening to her at all? Another wave of hurt washes over her, leaving her dizzy. She should sit down, but she doesn’t want Mulder to make the wrong assumptions.

Three Words Scully nearly faints from her overwhelming emotions.

#64 on the Drabble list please 😊

He stands by the window, still, a mere decoration. When she dreamed of him returning, she never imagined him to be like this. It feels like losing him all over again, all the time. Her own patience is slipping, the baby - his, theirs - is playing football with her bladder; restless like his father.

“Yell, scream, cry, please, just say something, anything," she pleads and sighs in defeat. She wants to yell, too, scream at him to snap out of this and just talk to her. "Mulder, I-"

"It's mine."

Post Three Words Mulder is awed that the baby is his.

Pieces Of Us (Ao3)

“Mulder, I understand you’re confused. I understand that you need to find yourself again. But I can’t help you if you won’t let me. If all you want to do is risk your life day in and day out… I know now what life without you is like. I can’t- I won’t watch you throw yours away.”

“That’s not- Scully, I want to be here. I want to work through it. I just don’t know how.” It’s the truth. A weight falls off him as soon as the words are out. It’s not much, but it’s a beginning. He’s made his choice; it’s life, it’s Scully. He’ll follow her lead.

Post Three Words Scully is surprised to see Mulder at her doorstep, with her earring.

Small Miracles (Ao3)

When he became aware of Scully's protruding stomach and its implications, it dawned on him how much he had missed. Dates and months meant nothing to him, but the growing sapling inside of Scully felt tangible. When he saw her months ago - and in many ways it feels like it was mere days ago - her stomach was toned and flat. Her hair was shorter, her face more angular. Now everything about her is soft. So soft that he's been afraid to touch her, even though everything in him screams out for her.

Post Three Words Mulder is angry at the changes in his life... until his neighbor goes into labor.

Scully calling Mulder and asking him (or implying that she want him) to come over/ A Reassuring Touch

“Please don’t make me guess, Scully,” he breathes into the phone with his eyes closed. Her pain, even with all these miles between them, is his pain, too.

“I woke up and I thought… I was afraid, Mulder. Afraid it was all just a dream. I thought… what if none of this is real? What if you’re not really alive? What if I only dreamed it? Dreamed you? I had to call you. I had to make sure, Mulder.” Her last words almost drown in her tears; he hears them drip drop onto the receiver, feels wetness on his own cheeks.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can, Scully.”

“Mulder, you don’t have to-”

“I want to, Scully. I want to be there.” 

Post Three Words Mulder gets a late night phone call from Scully.

Don't Prompts: 14. Don't hide it/Prompts & Drabbles - Chapter 55

The first time Mulder touches Scully’s pregnant stomach it’s an accident. As much as he can’t pretend that she’s with child, his mind blocks out the challenges this fact provides. They’re in his kitchen. Nothing has changed here except the level of cleanliness. He opens a cupboard to get a glass. His mouth is dry and in desperate need of water. Scully is telling him something; she sputters words he can’t comprehend. He hasn’t told her, doesn’t know how, but he’s happy she’s here. He’s happy to be hearing her voice.

Post Three Words Mulder finally reaches out after Scully's bump accidentally knocks into him.

doctorhelena's Something In Between

Scully bit her lip and willed herself not to imagine again what would have happened if Skinner hadn't taken a leap of faith. Mulder was insistent. "What would I have mutated into if you hadn't stopped it - how many of those people are out there? People who already have identities, but who won't be reported missing by their family and friends, because they’re already dead. People who can infiltrate themselves easily into society and nobody will ever know the difference. This is huge, Scully. And I don't -" he cut off, watching her face. His eyes were alive.

"How can you-" she asked. "Mulder, how can you just - you were almost -" She couldn't talk. Her throat had closed up again. She couldn't even breathe.

Mulder lifted his laptop off of the couch and placed it on the floor, then moved over to where it had been sitting, taking her in his arms. "Shhh, Scully, I'm here." She could feel him breathing into her hair, but she still couldn't speak. She shuddered. He ran the palm of his hand across her shoulder blades, and there was still an unfamiliar formality in the way he touched her.

Post Three Words Scully, Mulder, and Doggett look into other open-grave cases while she navigates her partner's narrowing distance and her own bubbling feelings. (I particularly love the dive-bombing robins.)

Diana Alexander's Distant and Strange

"Were you afraid of me, then?"

"No, Scully, not you. It's more these memories I have. I can't explain it, but the memories between here and there are distant and strange, and I'm can't tell the difference between reality and the fantasy my mind made up to placate me."

Post Three Words Mulder doesn't know what is real, what is PTSD, or how he can meet Scully halfway.

amorfati3215/Amorfati32’s (FFN)

I have a prompt if you could write it?

“I was nauseous and dizzy in Oregon, don’t you remember?” From the look on Mulder’s face, he did. “It wasn’t the cancer back then, and this baby isn’t the result of any IVF.” Mulders eyes followed as her hands moved to her stomach. “I was six weeks pregnant in Oregon. The symptoms were all there but it didn’t even register because I thought it was impossible, I thought it couldn’t happen.”

“But it did.”

Post Three Words Scully helps Mulder stabilize after she realizes he doesn't know.

In Utero: Missin Scene Challenge (Ao3)

He hesitates for a moment, thoughts of doubt filling his mind again.

But then he sees her sigh heavily and let out a whimper, as if afraid. A tear silently falls down her left cheek, escaping her closed eye, and her grip on her abdomen tightens. In an instant, he is gently crawling into the bed behind her. He feels her sink into him as the mattress dips with his added weight. He rests his left hand over hers, the one that’s protecting the life inside of her. She starts at his touch, gasping as her eyes go wide. He removes his hand, hovering closely so that he still feels the warmth radiating from her skin, but enough to lose the physical contact that leaves him slightly empty.

Post Three Words Mulder has to know: is the baby his?

@cecilysass/eecily_sass/Cecily Sasserbaum's All the Dead Mulders (Ao3)

Surprised, he waits as she leans over to touch his face. He’s taken aback. She hasn’t touched him much since the hospital.

Her expression is intent and serious, and she lets her fingers run over the stubbly contours of his cheeks and jaw, which have so recently been cratered by the scars of death. Her fingers wind up stroking his hair gently, gently.

She doesn’t say a word, but her lip begins to tremble.

Mulder just remains still, letting her do what she needs to. It’s probably the least he can do. Besides, he can’t deny it. Something in her touch is nudging him closer, bringing to life another emotion.

Post Three Words Mulder steals Scully's car to visit his grave. While there, the magnitude of the changes in his life begin to sink in.

Tesla's (Gossamer) After the Ship

Mulder sat on his couch, television on, and looked at his hands. Same hands. Except for the tiny round scars between his first and second fingers on each hand. He supposed no one would really know if it were he, unless Scully could snap on the Latex and get out the Skil- saw.

"Brr-rrr----rrrrummmmm------" he said to the fish, thinking of Scully in a morgue.

Post Three Words Mulder's disconnect is so jarringly severe that he fears he's a clone, turning to the Lone Gunmen and Frank Black and everyone but Scully in shame.

gwinne/Gwinne's Breathe (Ao3)

She noted the energy it took for him to do the calculations in his head, a simple equation that would have been effortless before Oregon. "So you were pregnant. That day in Oregon, you were pregnant."

"Yes."

"I don't. . . I don't know what to say."

"It's okay, Mulder. We'll have plenty of time to talk. Why don't you get some rest?" When she leaned over to kiss him, he swiped his knuckles across her abdomen.

"I wouldn't have gone, Scully, if I'd known about him."

Post Three Words Scully is giving Mulder space, processing her own grief through mindfulness exercises.

@o6666666's (Ao3) 31 for the I love you prompts

“Mulder—what? Are you alright?” She steps aside to let him in immediately, maneuvering around her belly to hover close, inspecting him.

“I’m fine,” he says. “I’m good.” Then he remembers the implication of his deal with Skinner: he’s not here for him, but Scully doesn’t have to know that. “I just... I missed your company, Scully.”

Her bottom lip twists. He sees her in Minneapolis with a scrape on her chin, at the bottom of the stairs. She is so guileless, looking at him like that: You missed me? For real?

Post Three Words Skinner pushes Mulder to go check in with Scully.

@wexleresque/hellsteeth's as above, so below (Ao3)

Exhaustion from the past week tugs at her despite her anxiety, and Scully reluctantly returns to her own personal nightmare. It begins as it always does. She’s alone in the darkness and deafening silence. Then, a new element is introduced to torture her. The sound of Mulder’s voice, muffled by the lining of the casket, calls her name over and over again.

Please, she begs her own mind silently, I can’t take hearing that. Not right now.

The voice becomes louder and more insistent until she wakes to Mulder’s hot breath in her ear and his arms on her shoulders, shaking her slightly. She sucks in a breath that pulls her fully back to the physical world and opens her eyes. Mulder looks down at her, eyes wide with worry and faded scars accentuated gruesomely by her lamp.

Post Three Words Scully has dreamed about being buried alive since Mulder was put into the ground.

Obfusc8er's One Man's Journey

I lay my hand lightly on her shoulder as she turns away, and she stops suddenly. I fail to summon the words to express what I feel, so I simply pull her close. Part of me balks at the idea of embracing Scully with arms that have known anything other than life, as if my touch alone might be sufficient to siphon away her vitality, the fire I cannot resist. She latches her arms around me tightly, though. Inextricably. No one would believe her strength, I muse. She is underestimated all too often. Who else would deny death the unquestioning acquiescence it demands in order to reclaim a misguided visitor?

Post Three Words Mulder is desperate to keep Scully around, which slowly opens a conversation between them.

@amplifyme/wonderland/Lydia Bower's Light Don't Sleep

The night Scully brought Mulder home from the hospital, after he'd eaten and headed for the shower, she timed him. Fifteen minutes passed before she went to check on him, finding him in the bathroom, studying his reflection in the medicine cabinet mirror. Wearing faded Levis that barely clung to his narrow hips, he was busy fingering the nasty scar bisecting his sternum. It took him a few seconds to notice her; long enough for Scully to see his uncertainty.

"Oh... hey," he said, addressing her reflection. "I was just thinking that battle scars lose some of their macho appeal when you can't remember how you got them."

Post Three Words Mulder is mixed up with what was and wasn't real, and quickly dissolves the disconnect between he and Scully as they settle in for the night-- finally, together.

Christina Shuy's Wishes, Roses, and Valentines 07 - Time to Heal

"Just... glad to be here with you, that's all." He sounded very afraid, and very sad.

AU-- Post Three Words Scully wakes to find her partner in tears.

Buckingham's The Laws of Coming and Going

He isn't ready for this, Mulder tells himself. He isn't ready to talk about the baby, or how he might fit in to the big baby picture. Somehow his memories of Scully are so much easier to cling to than Scully herself.

As usual she takes the heat off him, cramping up on her sofa and fading to the color of the moon. He doesn't have time to think or feel, just react. Clinging to her hand in the ambulance, he feels anything but numb.

Later, when he finds out that she'll be fine, that the baby is fine too, Mulder lays his hand on her belly for the first time. It dawns on him finally that there is an actual human being inside her, growing even as they stand there chatting about Doggett and his lost son. This kid will need Scully absolutely and completely. The world will change once again, probably before Mulder even has his feet firmly situated in this one.

Post Three Words Mulder sneaks off to visit his grave; and slowly works through his recklessness and distance as the clock ticks down to the big event.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

there are 8394 fanfic tropes i need to read after mulder comes back fuckkkkkkk

i wanna see a good reaction to the pregnancy

i wanna see mulder finally admitting he has ptsd and telling scully about it and about what he remembers

i wanna see scully kissing his scars

i wanna see mulder being more empathetic about what scully has been through bc he knows if the roles were reversed he would have fucking lost it

i need all of it!!!!

[dirtytransmasc]

I find it deeply depressing that every adult in Spider's life had children, yet he was never anyone's priority. every adult he could and most likely attempted to match in to. the adults he remembered as the closest things he had to parents since birth (Jake and Norm, even if they weren't acting as his parents, because Spider, genuinely, would not know better). down to his actual foster family (the McCoskers). essentially went out of their way to de-prioritize him.

like I'm not faulting them for having kids, for having a family. but Spider was their first priority. he didn't need to be adopted by any of them, per say, but he was their responsibility. he was their orphan, Jake especially, considering he was the chief of his people, but Norm as well, seeing as he's a prominent figure head of the clan/Hellsgate.

the McCoskers took him in, but over the years, as they had their own children, he was more and more neglected. he was now no longer his actually appointed guardians priority. and that only gets worse and worse as he ages until they become outright abusive (Nash does anyway, cause thats what I'm gonna call violently kidnapping his, throwing him in a room and locking him there, and trying to kill all of them, him included, when they run away. as abuse. and I'll get back to the whole "you have to turn yourself in to the RDA" x2 speech from Jake in a second). they also didn't really accept his culture. with their resentment towards the Na'vi brewing, Spider most definitely faced some heat for being more of the forest than of humans, in terms of culture.

3 times over, Spider came first and was put last. put last by parents who know damn well how much love, time, care, and attention a child needs. who should be able to see when a kid is being neglected. who dialed to advocate and protect him from neglect (instead of calling him a stray).

he was a child and they were his advocates. all three parties failed in their duty as advocates, to protect Spider. to ensure he always had a loving home that made him their priority. that fulfilled all his needs, not just the physical ones. but all put their own families first, and abandoned Spider to the scraps of their love, time, and affection.

imagine being Spider, an orphan who can't even mention his birth parents and is always treated like he is the physical rebirth of his father's sins by half the people around him. every adult in your life has kids and seems like they're such a good parent. you watch their kids being loved and tended to and having a steady home. they receive love and affection constantly. but your fosters pay less and less attention to you as they have babies. and now your a stray to the man you look up to so much. and the man who probably taught you how to put an exopack on has less and less time for you. no one has time for you. you're no one's child. no one's priority. just a stray. a nuisance. and you don't truly belong anywhere.

no one was putting him first. children need to be someone's priority. psychology. they need it.

and then the RDA returns. the McCoskers leave, Spider is expected to leave everything he has ever known, to join the very people he hates and has been trying so hard since he could understand what it meant, to prove that he wasn't like them. Jake, the man he once looked up to, was telling him to leave. sending him away. stripping him of the little amount of family he could somewhatly claim, that being his siblings.

once again, Jake is his chief, should be looking out for him. not even as a father, per say, but as his duty to Spider as his chief. a chief should never be sending away his most vulnerable ward, a child he should consider his own (as all of his clans children should be one with his own children), to the opposing enemy force.

this happens again when they're running away, Jake tells him ever more directly to hide in the forest alone until the RDA stops shooting at everything that moves and then turn himself in so he can his own children could run. once again, putting him last, instead of protecting all of them.

then for a year, Spider has no family. no one. the McCoskers are gone and no one has stepped up to bat for him. he's 15/16 and alone. his the big sibling to the Sully's. those kids are all he has, but they aren't really looking out for him. he's looking out for them. cause he's the oldest. that's just how it is. he is one with the clan. lives with them. does chores. watches out for his siblings, the whole nine. but Jake isn't doing his duty of watching out for his ward. he is once again giving and giving and giving, and not receiving.

and then he is taken, he is taken, and while Jake may not have had the means to go back for Spider, or been able to take the risk of going back for him, he abandons him without a thought for his safety, and puts his children first. it's the language and attitude be poses towards the situation that is wild to me. he has every right to be worried about his children, but he could not spare Spider an ounce of concern, even knowing the danger he was in, and is more concerned about him spilling details then anything else. Spider is, once again, not his first, second, or even third priority. he is a means to an end. a necessary loss.

people only care about Spider when there's nothing else they can put before him.

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

thinking about superheroes unfortunately

[the-rebel-archivist]

I also think that he was using her and that there was no love lost for her on his end... but that there was also a twisted admiration at some point, a thing that drew him to her. It's complicated and bound up in complete and utter disgust. I also think that once Lucanis returned Illario's disdain turned to real hatred, but that he was stuck at that point; killing her took care of multiple problems at once.

I tend to think that at the beginning, when he first started to really woo her (which I'm certain he went all out on, wined and dined the pants off of her, probably even wrote her sonnets, while he absolutely disdained her and her cause because he doesn't think any political or moral cause is worth that dedication), he did come to admire that she never took no for an answer. When she wanted something, she took it. Nothing could stand in her way. That attitude helped to embolden him for what he wanted to do, he wanted to be First Talon and he was determined to overcome any obstacle to do that.

I'm sure he even felt guilty sometimes that in of all of his disdain and disgust for her, he didn't hate her nearly as much as he probably should have. There was something at that point that he also got out of that relationship, though it wasn't love or care or any sort of soft emotion; it was mutually beneficial... toward his negative arc. I don't think that even Illario could have kept up a completely one sided relationship as manipulation for over a year unless there was something no matter how small that he was getting out of it on a personal level. He had understanding from Zara of all the dark and terrible things that he couldn't voice elsewhere, all of his envy and spite and pride. He had validation. I also do think that Zara actually cared; her pride and ego were flattered and she is deeply insecure (people happy with who they are don't blood magic away their age and imperfections) and I suspect that there aren't a lot of people who can even pretend that they truly like her so she was an easy mark.

It's made even more complicated by the fact that she is the only person he can speak to of his ambitions. That's no small thing, being able to not have to keep it contained always. During Murder of Crows, you find a half burned letter in his fireplace that reads

—patience, Amatus. More glory will come to you.

He's discussed his impatience, then, and what he feels like he's owed. But the letter is torn and burnt; this could be because he wanted to hide evidence, but I don't think it is. He thought the villa was well enough guarded to leave Caterina, he wouldn't have worried about his room. He could also have burned it to erase all trace of her because he cared about her and she was dead, but I think that's an easily dismissed idea that doesn't fit with any other details or his attitude in general. This is the guy who heard the news of the guard captain in TWJ being dead and thought great, obligation to meet her later dodged.

No, I think that it's an indication that he is at this point so completely done with Zara. It's been a whole year. He's tired of keeping up this charade. And she broke her side of the deal and left his cousin to a fate he did not want. He wanted him to die cleanly. That one benefit that he had with her, the ability to talk openly about his plans, he no longer has. He had to act the lover while absolutely despising her and he had to do it long term. It's not just that it turned out that she had not done the main thing he needed her to do - he has some family pride and what she did was an insult against not just Lucanis but him himself.

All that he was left with was hatred and disdain. Killing her was not just tying up a loose end and saving his own skin, it was freeing himself from a manipulation that had become a burden and only serving one party. It's amazing that he even managed to wait until that moment to strike. I wonder how many times and in how many ways he had thought about assassinating her. I'm sure he started before he even met her.

What are your personal headcanons about Illario's feelings towards Zara Renata? Attraction? Some care or none? Purely a tool for his ambitions? Hatred or disgust at her hunting his beloathed/beloved cousin? (Curious since Illario/Zara seems to be a talking point on the TL at the moment.)

I do think she was just a tool. I'm of the mind that she was a pawn... probably disgust because he seems SO un-fond of Venatori in the wigmaker job that turns to hatred when he realizes what she did to Lucanis--she tortured him, Othered him, made him into a Demon. Illario would've killed him quickly but couldn't bring himself to do it. Oh, he hates her, to me. She was a tool and a pawn for his ambitions.

I do think that she might have been genuinely fond of him? Based on dialogue she has. She did call him amatus. Open for debate but I'm of that mind as well.

[edwinisms]

I know how it sounds at first, but I really gotta feel bad for the boys that sacrificed edwin; I mean even the term “sacrificed edwin” paints them in a more sinister light than they really deserve– considering that wasn’t really, actually their intention.

they were bullies, they were homophobic (and/or were self loathing gay boys themselves taking it out on edwin, or were equally likely peer pressured into acting a certain way), they planned something stupid and mean to do to an innocent, anxious boy with the goal of scaring the shit out of him, all because he was effeminate and an easy target. but they didn’t know or expect any of the ritual stuff to be real. they were all laughing and joking during the ritual because it was just that to them– a joke. a cruel joke, but a joke.

teenagers can be mean and stupid and they usually regret it as adults and grow out of it / grow from it. they were stifled the chance to grow out of it, at least while alive. none of those boys deserved to be instakilled and sent to hell; they’re really not that much less deserving than edwin himself. they were all just kids, after all.

[dreamdripdistance]

hey why do i work myself up into like genuine panic attack levels of anxiety over just the most stupid shit. rude

[krems-chair]

Oh cool you're a gamer? Normally I'd claim such a chill and nebulous label for myself, but thanks to a helpful anon I now know instead that the proper term is "piece of shit"