#its been definitely over a year by now and it always loops back around

[mephydoggo]

!!!! Fandom PSA !!!!

CW: gr//ming, racism, p//dophilia, n//crophilia, proship, n//ncon

I only just found out that this guy has a Tumblr, so I'm making this post now to warn you all to BLOCK & BAN HIM. Don't let him into your circles or servers. Do not interact with him; he feeds off the attention like a leech. This guy is one of the most disgusting people I've had to deal with, and he's been trying to come back ever since TWF4 dropped. He's an awful person with awful beliefs and he doesn't care who he's hurting, whether that be a child or his own partner.

You can find a list of all of his known accounts in the linked drive as well as all of the evidence we have.

The above CW should give you a pretty good idea of everything he's done. Please block & ban him wherever you can; I know he's been interacting with more artists and trying to weasel into more communities. I'd be grateful to anyone willing to spread the drive as well. I don't want to have to add another person's story to this drive.

[vinvantae]

Could you write the f1 grid reactions to their girlfriend enjoying privacy and not wanting to be in the spotlight at gps? Like for example choosing to go to the regular audience instead of the garage to watch races etc to avoid excessive cameras? If you don't want to do all could you do either Charles, Lewis, or Lando?

I won’t do all the drivers because I think there’s only so many reactions but I will do the three you’ve requested 🥰 sorry for the delay I’ve had a lot of stuff on recently!

***

Charles

Charles watched from across the room as you pulled your Ferrari cap over your head, adjusting it so you could slip your sunglasses on and off with ease. The two of you had been together for nearly two years now, but you had still never set foot inside the paddock - and whilst he understood your reasons, the selfish part of him really wanted you there this weekend. He was starting his home race from P1 and he was positive he had a real shot this year.

He cautiously stepped towards you, taking your hips in his hands so he could press a soft kiss to your shoulder.

“Are you sure I can’t convince you to join me in the garage, mon ange?” He hummed, resting his cheek against yours as you met his eyes in the mirror.

“Mhmm, I quite like being surrounded by your adoring fans.” You giggled, tilting your head so he could press kisses to your neck. “The roars of Monegasque feel all the more thrilling when you’re a part of it. Their home hero starting on pole? No way I’m missing out on that.”

Charles let you turn in his arms, your arms coming up to loop around his neck - you couldn’t help but smile at the fond look in his eyes as he looked at you. He really wished you were going to be at the barriers, so he could wrap you up in his arms when he finally won, but he knew all the cameras in your face would be too much for you.

“I’ll always respect your decision to enjoy the race from the grandstands, as long as you know if you ever change your mind, there’s a special spot in the back of my garage just for you.” His voice was soft as he nudged his nose against yours. “If they get too rowdy-”

“Charles, I’ll be okay… now, go win for me.”

Lewis

Being a 7 time world champion definitely came with its privileges - but privacy was not one of them. So keeping his relationship close to his chest was not only important to him but to you. You loved him more than words could ever describe, but the idea of walking through all of the press holding his hand was still daunting to you - so you preferred to support him nestled away in the crowds. In your 5 years together, somehow, you’d never been “exposed”, so blending in was easy.

Lewis was by no means ashamed of you, in fact, he was filled with nothing but pride when he spoke of you - but being able to keep his personal life private, out of the grasps of the greedy, was important to him as well. He spent his days with every movement, every word being picked apart by the media and he wanted to be able to protect you from it all.

“You could at least wear my merch, babe.” He laughed softly, as you emerged from the bathroom, donned in another team’s merchandise, holding his hands out for you to take. “How am I gonna do well knowing you’re in the crowd wearing that?”

You scoffed playfully, taking his hands, looking down at him from where he was sitting on the edge of the bed. “I am wearing something for you… just for your eyes though.”

He quirked a brow, removing his hands from yours to hook his fingers into your waistband, pulling it away just enough to see his trademark colour against your skin hidden underneath. A groan left his lips and he lent his forehead against your middle.

“So…” you purred. “You gonna race well knowing what your prize is?”

“Fuck yes.”

Lando

Neon yellow was not your colour. When Lando first showed it to you, you weren’t sure it was anyone’s colour, but as you strolled through Silverstone - it seemed that it was everyone’s. You smiled softly to yourself as you adjusted your own hat, sidling up the grandstands to find your seat - nestled in between a group of Lando’s fans, who very quickly pulled you into the fray once they realised you were alone.

You’d ended up getting a seat at Luffield corner, not expecting your boyfriend’s car during the parade to pull up to be interviewed by Natalie. There was no way he’d ever know you were here - you told him you couldn’t make it, but in reality you wanted to enjoy it from the crowds.

The giggles that escaped you as his t-shirt cannon failed dramatically, made your heart swell. He’d come so far in the years you’d known him and to see him so adored was really special. You fished your phone out of your pocket when it buzzed, his name lighting up your screen, just moments before you knew he had to get into the car.

Miss u x

You smiled softly, turning as you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder. The girl smiled gently albeit a little awkwardly at you. “Hi, sorry, you’re y/n, Lando’s girlfriend, right?”

“That’s me.” You chuckled.

“How come you’re out here instead of in there?” She asked, her voice laced with curiosity, not judgement.

You turned a little in your chair to face her better. “Wanted to enjoy the race from the grandstands, I’ve always loved the atmosphere and just because I’m dating him I didn’t want to stop.”

She gave you a knowing nod. “That’s absolutely fair. Well, when you see him, can you tell him I said hi?”

“Hey, how about we all send him a good luck selfie? He’s probably not got his phone anymore but he’ll see it after the race.” You beamed.

Everyone crowded around you and you took a photo - their smiles practically lighting up the screen. You knew Lando would love it, so you sent it back.

We’re all rooting for you <3 You’ve got this!x

Lando was a little disappointed not to win the race, especially at home - he’d managed to hang on to the lead just for a little while, but it just wasn’t enough. All he wanted was to wrap himself up in your arms and feel sorry for himself for not being able to hold onto the lead, but you weren’t here. When he finally got a moment of peace, he checked his phone - eyes widening at the selfie.

You were here, nestled amongst the floods of neon - your smile somehow brighter. He tapped on your name to call you, tapping his foot against the floor - biting at the skin around his fingernails.

“Hi Lando.” Your voice sounded like a dream.

“How come you didn’t tell me you were here.” He knew he sounded whiny but he didn’t care, he needed you with him ASAP. “Could’ve watched from the garage… given me a good luck kiss.”

“Well, looks like you didn’t need it. You raced amazingly today, baby, I’m so proud of you… maybe I’ll meet you back at your hotel, show you how proud I am?”

Lando couldn’t help but jut his bottom lip out a little. “Sure I can’t tempt you to come to the garage?”

“I’m sure. Too flashy for me. I love you, see you in a little while.”

“I love you too. Bye babe.” He smiled to himself, hanging up the phone - holding it to his chest.

As much as he’d wished you were in the garage, he loved the part of you that wanted to enjoy races from the grandstands - experience the race how you wanted, not just using your relationship to waltz around the paddock.

Now… he just had to find the quickest way back to the hotel.

[defmaybe]

I Love You, I’m Sorry

Purple Kiss’ Jang Eunseong/Dosie x Male Reader

1.3k words

Song: Gracie Abrams - I Love You, I’m Sorry

Some warning on a discussion of depression

A/N: Part of @mintwithchoco’s prompt exercise!!! It’s very exposition dump-y so apologies for that. Thanks for reading!

–

You were the best but you were the worst

As sick as it sounds, I loved you first

I was a dick, it is what it is

A habit to kick, the age-old curse

–

The sun glares down onto the street you’re walking on. The buildings don’t help in shielding it in the afternoon. To add, they even reflect the light onto you even more. You want a place to cool down; you need a place to cool down.

You pace yourself through the bustling heart of the city, looking for just a cold whisper, but everywhere just seems to be so eager to burn you down to shreds. The gray skyscrapers stare down at you, adding melancholy to the street even more.

You stride and stride in the hellish heat, until…

It’s predictable: the modern interior, white and brown furniture, just so ready to be snapped and posted on Instagram. You hurry into the cafe, trying to catch the breeze of the hard-working air conditioner as much as possible. In the meantime, you look around for a seat for your iced tea, until you meet an eye in the patrons.

Maybe it’s fate, maybe it’s a coincidence, but you just can’t walk away now.

She’s in a light blue blouse and her ripped jeans, hands holding her iced latte. She seems to be working on something on her computer.

Back in college, you failed and failed to find that precious rhythm in engineering. You were far from being a failure, to say, but your social life was dry enough to have her, a medical student who lived miles away, as your closest friend after high school ended. And one day, it fell down. Your closeness induced the dormant codependency within, and she left. It’s the memory you’ve been striving to erase and the mistake you’ve been trying to correct ever since.

It would’ve been easy if you just gave her silence, but there has to be a few dramatic scenes, which include ‘I fucking hate you’ or ‘I can’t say that I love you’. This doesn’t even cover the flurries and flurries of messages yet, up until where she blocked you, and you blocked her.

It’s Jang Eunseong–or sometimes Dosie, the name that has been aching inside you ever since.

Slowly, she reaches forward to get her purse on the opposite chair. She nods while giving you a faint smile.

“Iced Latte, please,” you tell the barista.

Slowly, you walk towards her table, still trying to make sense of the image in front of you.

“Sweetness?” They respond.

Slowly, you sit down in the chair. Its legs creak as you drag it across the floor.

“Low, thanks.”

Slowly, Dosie starts the proper conversation as you sit down, face-to-face with her for the first time in almost a decade.

“So, how are you?”

A forced smile exudes. You think of an answer that’s enough to garner her attention, but not too desperate. “I’m fine.”

Her sudden departure left you so bereft to where medication is involved. Valdoxan, Lorazepam, Rivotril, Fluoxetine, Trazodone, you name it. You were lucky that you have lived to this exact day even.

Darkness loomed over you, thoughts looped, words lamented with trembles. And to say, it was all your fault for making such a promising relationship to the ugly crash by yourself. You inflicted yourself with this pain.

The waiter brings your coffee to you, the same as hers.

“Doing anything?” She wants more than a ‘fine’.

You give in. “I’m a photographer now, modelling stuff, you know.”

“You’ve always wanted to be one, aren’t you?”

“It’s more fun than being a programmer, definitely.”

A small chuckle escapes Dosie.

“How are you, though? No one told me about you all these years,” you brush your rinsing tears away with a question mark.

“I’m-” She pauses and nods, lips curling inward, eyes pointing away for a second. “Fine, really. I just got promoted at my hospital.”

It’s either a doctor or an engineer here—the path to stability. And if the contrast between the path isn’t stark enough. There’s a hatred between you two to separate them even further.

“So you’re becoming the hospital manager, aren’t you?” chuckling, you say.

Dosie laughs, hands failing to cover her mouth. “Not really, haha, still a department’s second-in-command.” The air seems to lighten up, not suppressing your smile anymore.

“Well, good for you.”

“Anyone yet?” She inquires again, eyes focused on you.

“Friend of a friend.” Another fake, faint smile with a truth. “You?”

“Same shift, on and off, really.”

It’s swift, the way it just landed and took off, robbing you of any sentiment you may deserve. You’ve played this moment back and forth for too many times during the years apart. But when it just comes and goes like this, you just wish she’d ask for more.

You continue, “Do you remember–,” you halt.

She forces out a smile, matching your eyes for a split second.

“I mean–no, I shouldn’t do this, I’m sorry for bringing it up.”

“Hey.” Dosie reaches out to you. “It’s fine. I’m your fri–” 

Dosie stops in her tracks; resolve falters, causing you to look back up at her. Her eyes are searching for the right excuse in the crowd outside.

“I’m sorry.”—you struggle to hold back the tears welling in your eyes—“I don’t think I should do this.”

Your voice is quivering.

Dosie opens her mouth without a sound, an unknown word stuck in her throat, whatever it might be. Maybe it’s lost in the chatter of the patrons; maybe it’s lost in the piano from the speakers; maybe it’s lost in the huffing sounds of the coffee machine.

Maybe it’s lost in herself.

“So,” Dosie finally breaks another chain of tranquil, and herself, unsure, yet they bind themselves back as fast as they were ripped apart. You two fell into another gap.

Maybe it’s best that you just stop here.

“I guess I should go,” you say, without any destination in your mind. You adjust yourself to slide the chair out.

“Wait.” As you step, Dosie stops you with her shaky voice. Your feet are still, one leading the other. You can’t quite make out what she's going to say next: an insult, a question, an apology? They teeter inside your head to decide what you can’t choose.

You turn back to meet her anxious look—lips quiver, latte in the mug she’s holding up to her chin vibrating as she puts it down. 

Thump.

“I’m–,” Dosie turns the gears in her head, seeking the right word in your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you’re the one who says it. It can’t be the end here, it can’t be, but at least it might be better than those damned years. You turn back away. “I’m sorry that I didn’t fix myself for you.”

“No, no, no, no,” she climbs the scale with each syllable, hands waving off your guilt. She bends forward, is it to see you closer? “I should’ve been there for you, but I was just-”

You look back, seeing that the composure she has tried to keep during the minutes is crumbling.

“I was selfish,” she says, husk lingering in the statement.

“No, Dosie, it was me,” you respond. “I shouldn’t have dragged you into my mess.”

“I–,” Dosie stops before another apology comes out, careful on her next words.

“Will I- Will I see you again?” She breaks the train into another question, head tilting, brows furrowing. Her now-hoarse voice is blended with the piano.

“Maybe.”

–

I tend to laugh whenever I’m sad

I stare at the crash, it actually works

Making amends, this shit never ends

I’m wrong again, wrong again

[myx-on-earth]

Content Warning: Landfall Game's April Fools Triumph

For the Content!

It would seem that an April Fools joke of a game has resulted in overnight indie success. Landfall Games, a beloved indie game studio, has a yearly April Fools tradition they call “Landfall Day”, where their devs put together essentially a parody of whatever game is popular at the time. They’ve parodied everything from DayZ to battle royales (Twice, with Totally Accurate Battlegrounds and Knightfall), and this year it would seem it’s Lethal Company’s turn.

Lethal Company is a game known for silly co-op shenanigans that seem to instantly translate into YouTube content- and Content Warning takes that idea and turns it up to 11, making being an influencer a part of the game mechanics. You and a group of friends take a diving bell to “The Old World”, a spooky map filled with monsters and traps entirely for the sake of internet entertainment value. With a single camera and 90 seconds of film, your group has to make the spookiest, funniest video possible- because your only source of income is Spooktube, and that revenue doesn’t come easily.

It's such a brilliant parody of both the horror genre Lethal Company tapped into and the loop of content creation in the internet age that it, somehow, wraps around to being an excellent game in of itself, though Landfall is no stranger to finding gold through satire. Previously, their first battle royale parody (Totally Accurate Battlegrounds, a riff on PUBG) found some success, enough that Landfall turned it into a full venture. It’s not as popular nowadays, but it IS legitimately good- and Content Warning seems to be turning out the same way with its initial popularity and engaging premise.

Typical Content Warning video result, featuring myself, @thatpocketninja, @squiddskipp, and a third friend who requested to remain anonymous

In the space of video game development, April Fools seems to be not so much a “joke” day, but a day that allows ideas to be thrown around that might not otherwise have been considered, which can lead to majorly creative leaps of faith. With examples like the Yakuza series’ pivot to turn-based combat, Far Cry 3: Blood Dragon’s continued success in the midst of a floundering Ubisoft, and even Lilith Walther’s upcoming definitely-not-Bloodborne Kart (now known as Nightmare Kart), the idea of “joke turned legitimate gamedev venture” isn’t exactly new.

I actually had the pleasure of exchanging emails with Hanna Fogelberg (@thebirdmountain on Twitter), Landfall's Head of Community, who provided some insight into Content Warning’s development and the overwhelming response in the interview below.

1. What's it like to go to bed seeing some success, then waking up to find your joke game is a viral hit? Did you expect this at all, given the surprising amount of polish it has?

"We couldn't sleep to tell you the truth! Even if the team said good night at about 2am we kept texting the player numbers to each other throughout the night, we were very wired! We always knew there was the potential of the game going really well, there's something about the design and shareability of the videos you make that we knew could hit it big but it's still surprising it went THIS well."

2. How long did it take to develop Content Warning?

"Content Warning was made in about six weeks of active game development, but the idea came to us back in December!"

3. What were your main inspirations for the game? (Beyond Lethal Company, of course)

“Lethal Company and similar games were an obvious reference for the gameplay loop, we love that game! That said, what was most interesting to us was the core of the game - the filming and video creation. We were inspired by YouTubers and influencer culture, there's something interesting in people risking life and limb for content that we wanted to play off of. 

Other than that, the vibes of The Older World were inspired by Junji Ito and a specific H.R Giger painting while The Over World references the Swedish children's book Pettson och Findus.”

4. How experienced was the dev team?

“We're pretty experienced, the Landfall team has been making games for over 10 years with previous releases being Totally Accurate Battle Simulator, Stick Fight: The Game, Clustertruck and Rounds to mention a few.”

5. How does this experience compare to the last semi-viral success Landfall had with a Landfall Day game? (TABG)

“This game outdid TABG in player numbers several times over! So it's hard to compare, this is by far our most viral hit to date.” 6. Any plans for the future of the game? Or just basic bug fixes and some more content? 

“We will see! Currently, we're focusing on fixing bigger bugs and other issues but we already have some new content planned. We're kind of playing it by ear at this point, it all depends on how things go in the coming weeks.”

Some may attribute Content Warning’s success to multiple factors- the 24 hour free period, how it riffs on Lethal Company and the tropes it already employs, or even that it was “designed to go viral”- but you can’t deny that, even as an iterative piece, it still manages to find its own identity and already seems to have captured the content creation hearts of everyone who gives it a chance. Games like this, that aren’t reliant on micro transactions and are buoyed by the PEOPLE you play with, rather than the money that one must spend on it, are the hope- and, hopefully, the future- of the video games industry. You can find Content Warning (No longer free, but still very cheap!) at the link below: https://store.steampowered.com/app/2881650/Content_Warning/

[biblicallyaccuratecrow]

ouroboros rambles chapter 2

you guys seemed to like the chapter 1 rambles, so here is chapter 2!

[spoilers for isat and twohats below the cut]

i would like to start by saying that we all need more mirabelle POV fics in our lives. she deserves only the best.

I always really liked how Mira didn't just. get over act 5? like, the things that siffrin said were hurtful! yes! and she loves him! even after that! but it doesn't erase the pain and the conflicting feelings regarding it, especially because of the no-spoilers rule... which we will get more into i proMISE! in any case I was focused a lot on the fact that Mira post canon is dealing with a Lot, what with everyone still believing that she was chosen by the Change God and yknow. saving Vaugarde, and Siffrin's overall condition doesn't help! She wants him to be okay and safe, and she has already shown that she feels immense guilt over not being able to help siffrin during the loops, so I kinda leaned hard into that.

The entire party is about to be So Tired Of People.... especially The Introverts (Odile, Mira, and Siffrin)...

The fucking cart thing came to me out of fucking nowhere. I have no idea where or why that bit came around.

Siffrin sleeping habits analysis. siffrin sleeps all curled up like a cat most of the time? theyre small scrappy, but not really the most physically strong (before the loops), and i imagine more than a few years of traveling alone would train him to be ready to protect themselves however they can, even in their sleep. I think that this eases up a bit as they get comfortable with the party, which leads to them being able to sleep "normally". but of course, that is how they wake up in the loops. negative association and trauma from waking up back in the meadow..... i don't imagine they'll be going back to that any time soon.

I do have a Full Catalog of Siffrin's injuries (because im actually insane) but that will be talked about in my chapter 3 rambles. for now though, all im gonna say is that Siffrin definitely kept the stars hidden. In my headcanon, healing craft only works when you can actually pinpoint a wound, internal or external. I'm more inclined to believe that siffrin healed them up the best they could on their own after to hide them.

Ohhhh odile. my beloved. i have so many feelings about her and how she processes siffrin's issues postcanon. feelings i will not get into until next chapter. sorry lmaoooooo. All you gotta know for now is that once she starts seeing things, she can't stop. the signs appear everywhere, and she very quickly puts the pieces together from that point. All it takes is one domino to start the cascade, and Odile is the kind of person that WILL get to the bottom of it all, no matter what it takes.

Mira's guilt. Oh man. There are some ways in which her and Siffrin are very alike, and this is one of them. She's justified in being mad, yes, but that doesn't erase the fact that she doesn't want to BE mad. She hates it. because she knows now that siffrin was suffering. She defeated the king, saved vaugarde, but the cost was her friend's health and happiness. siffrin said that they were happiest they'd ever been with the party... and yes, siffrin loves them all deeply, but she never could have wanted that love to come at such a great price.

Mira has gotta be TIRED. girl healed siffrin a grand total of (checks my page of notes from act 5) six times. with very little cooldown. and that was AFTER deflecting the ONE SHOT KILL attack from the king (which, even with the carrot method shield, does at least 1/4 damage) and unfreezing siffrin....ough. let her rest!

i love torturing isa using his crush. its so funny. bro is a disaster. brain completely short circuits at the thought of siffrin in his clothes i can IMAGINE IT SO CLEARLY.... odile is gon abe homophobic soon /silly

Siffrin's wish... this scene was really important to me. Just for clarification (and this will become a LOT more obvious later), I don't really regard this scene as Siffrin getting over what happened? Because he definitely isn't. But they have already literally let go of their wish, and I wanted to explore a more… intentional version of that? its long-lasting effects are still there, mentally and physically. it doesn't just go away. But it has served its purpose and this is my way of showing the transition point from the loops and their future with their family.

Also!!! the idea of mourning something that no longer serves its former purpose, a life you cannot get back. Siffrin can never go back to who they were before their wish. They have been fundamentally changed as a person. And while the wish did bring good things, the flipside is that it also dismantled their entire worldview and life in its entirety. They died from this wish, suffered because of it, but the meaning behind it remains, and i think that this scene kind of shows the idea that siffrin still feels compassion for what it originally meant to them. its a bittersweet reality.

[ectonurites]

Now that we’re halfway through it what are your thoughts on Kon’s solo?

I've been enjoying it! I think it's been fun so far—I do think that letting Kon have a story where he's out on his own just doing a classic little adventure like this rather than... something super tethered to the greater DCU/its continuity messes is refreshing after the last few years he's had.

Like I definitely don't want him isolated from all his friends in space forever or anything like that, but I think him getting to do this on his own right now is cool. I think the thing Porter seems to be going for with Kon 'chasing after the glory days'/trying to find some shred of his old life to cling onto (even if it's just a space imitation of it) is definitely interesting and like... makes enough sense to me for him and where he's at after The Everything.

I just gave this 'how Kon has changed across the eras' post of mine from a while back (fall 2021, so written shortly after the whole Suicide Squad Match Ordeal™) a re-read and something I was talking about at the end was how after all the experiences he's had he has looped back around to embracing aspects of his old self (that he'd been pushing away for a long time because of 2000's-era Trauma And Angst) and I think this current book is definitely like, playing with that.

What I was talking about in that post ended mostly after YJ 2019 though—his state of mind at that point being more or less 'okay I'm back now let's goooooo!!!!!' before The Horrors of realizing he came back to a world that really had moved on without him for years really set in. Like, he knew about that by the end of YJ 2019, but I think he needed to sit on it for a bit and see it firsthand... also even though I know the book was a mess and not well received, I think we should still acknowledge Dark Crisis: Young Justice—where he got a firsthand taste of the olden 90's 'I hadn't died yet, I hadn't disappeared yet, I hadn't been replaced yet' days in Mickey's dream world. After experiencing that and getting some reality checks from the rest of the team, he knows he can't seriously just go back, you can't go back to the past like that... but...

The new understanding of himself he'd achieved just before/while stuck on Gemworld—where we saw he was making active choices about who he's gonna be based on what he wants rather than Clark-based expectations or anyone else's input, and where he was rolling with the changes and circumstances that had been thrown at him—has been thrown SERIOUSLY out of whack!

So rather than it being that 'he's returning to aspects of who he used to be while incorporating the experience and maturity he's gained along the way over the years' situation from YJ 2019, it's started warping into 'he's regressing back to the safety of being the Metropolis Kid/his 90's era self just out in space this time so TECHNICALLY it's DIFFERENT'. Which I think is an interesting approach! And him acting completely and totally in denial of that being what he's doing (even though it's clear he knows damn well it is) is also totally in line with classic Kon—thinking back to the Young Justice (1998) #7 camping trip LMAO.

But like, the thing is, Superboy: The Man of Tomorrow #1 started with an editor's note clarifying it takes place before Action Comics #1051 which began the new family-focused era of the book... that Kon is very obviously present for.

So we already know he's gonna figure out that there is a place for him back on earth and that he doesn't need to completely regress and try to relive his past somewhere else, he can just be himself and carve out his own path at home and have a place within the family. We're not stuck guessing about what Kon's fate is gonna be after the fact—instead, this book gets to focus on this journey he's going through and we're along for the ride to see how he's gonna finally reach that conclusion! Which is fun!

Anyways, that was a lot of word dumping—Kon just gets me going man, you know he always does—but in conclusion: I'm enjoying the book overall, it has definitely kept me as a Kon fan engaged, and I'm looking forward to seeing where it goes!

+ as much as ideologically I am opposed to DC Round Robin, I'm definitely (at this point anyways) glad that this book got to exist.

[hellishchrissy]

hello random gareth/el thought: el experimenting with hairstyles and trying them all out on gareth. her favorite look is definitely the pigtails, she just thinks he looks so sweet 💕

that is all

It's a pretty nice Saturday afternoon, one of those first days of spring that actually feel warm on your skin, and the sunshine is no longer accompanied by a cold breeze. Summer of 1989 is fast approaching, its first rays of light filtering in through the windows of Gareth's mother's garage.

He's back from college for spring break, and though there has been many promises made to his mother about the garage getting cleaned, it's as much of a disaster as before – if not worse. Gareth has assured her, over and over, that this time he’d get to it. Instead, the place is a chaotic mess of empty beer bottles, tangled cables and music gear.

And it’s not like Gareth has a chance to focus on playing his drums for an entire week straight when he’s away at college – he’d barely scraped through his midterms, and a dorm room isn’t exactly a place where you haul a drum set with you.

So here he is now, sitting on his worn-down stool, headphones over his ears while trying to nail down the drums of a Metallica song that’s been looping on his Walkman for the last twenty minutes. His dark brows are furrowed in concentration, head bobbing to the beat, a drop of sweat on his forehead as his hands fly over the drums. But every now and then he misses a beat, and quiet curses fall off his lips. He rewinds the tape.

As if the song itself isn’t challenging enough, there’s another distraction making him miss a beat here and there: El’s standing behind him, her slender fingers in his hair as he plays. Her hands are separating his curls with methodical precision, tugging and grazing at his neck in a way that makes it hard to even hear the song blaring in his ears. She’d done this before – probably hundreds of times – but it’s always a distraction. Today, more so than usual. Her cool fingers send jolts down his spine, making it damn near impossible to keep time.

“El,” Gareth murmurs, tearing the headphones off his ears in a hasty movement. He lens back his head so that he can look up at her standing behind his stool. “You’re distracting me.”

El grins when their eyes meet, but her fingers don’t pause their braiding. “But it looks so good, Gare. You could wear your hair like this at the gig next week.”

Gareth snorts, shaking his head against her hands. A grin tugs at his lips. “Babe, I don’t need to look good for a metal crowd. I just need to be able to play the drums.”

Which sure as fuck is impossible right now, with the way her touch is electrifying his veins.

“You can do both,” El teases, fingers still deftly working over the last section of curls.

Gareth lets out little laugh, low and rough. “You’re seriously overestimating my multitasking abilities here.”

El doesn’t respond, but merely gives him the soft, knowing smile she’s perfected during the years, the one that makes Gareth’s chest warm with affection despite the fact that he’s been lucky enough to witness that damn smile for over two years now. For a moment he just sits there, the headphones hanging loosely around his neck, listening on to El’s quiet humming as her fingers twist his curls—

The drumsticks clatter onto the floor.

And before he can even think twice, Gareth shifts on the stool, twisting around enough to snake an arm around the unsuspecting girl’s waist. He pulls her sideways onto his lap, his other arm wrapping around her to steady her some more. A surprised yelp falls from El’s lips as she falls against him, landing with a quiet little thud. Gareth’s left hand settles instinctively on her thigh, holding her steady as she looks up at him with a laugh that lights up her brown eyes.

“Gare, no, you’re all sweaty—“

“And you’re evil,” Gareth murmurs, leaning downwards. El’s wearing an old band t-shirt of his, worn and stretched out from washing, and the sight of it makes his heart skip a little beat.

El grins up a him, her arm making its way around his neck to pull Gareth downwards. “Am I distracting you now?”

A grin mirroring El’s tugs at Gareth’s lips, his heart thumping against his ribs. “You have no idea,” he mutters.

Gareth’s hand moves up and down her thigh in a way that makes El shiver, his ring-clad fingers brushing against the denim of her shorts. It’s something he’s done hundreds of times before, the gesture familiar, comforting and so, so distracting. El’s breath hitches the way it often does when Gareth’s touch is a little too casual; she swats his hand away with a laugh, her gesture playful.

“You’re trying to get the song right, remember?” She says, her voice soft but firm. Her brown eyes narrow.

Gareth groans, over-dramatic. His forehead drops against her shoulder, the softened fabric of her t-shirt brushing against his cheek. “Yeah well, maybe I care about you more than I care about Metallica.”

El grins, shaking her head. She pushes against his chest with her hand. “Don’t even try. You’re obsessed with Metallica.”

“Well, yes, but I’m obsessed with you more,” he says, half-serious, half-teasing, his light eyes twinkling.

His words make El laugh, her body vibrating in Gareth’s arms. Her hands grab the collar of his flannel, pulling him downwards and onto her lips.

Gareth is grinning against her mouth.

El lingers for a bit before pulling back. “Get back to work,” she commands, her fingers giving his brown curls – now already falling out of the untied braids – a playful tug before she hops off his lap.

Gareth’s eyes follow her, and he wipes a bead of sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He bends down to pick up the sticks from the floor. “You’re killing me, Hopper.”

“Maybe you’re just getting rusty.”

Gareth laughs, tilting his head back. “Rusty, huh? Sure, babe. That’s what this is.”

El throws her an amused glance over her shoulder. Gareth pulls the headphones over his ears again, rewinding the familiar song on the Walkman. Metallica’s trashing riffs fill his ears, far too loud for his own good. And though he tears his gaze away from El and forces himself to focus on the drums, he can still feel her touch lingering on his skin. Distracting him, her laugh still echoing in his ears, drowning out the song blaring from the headphones.

God help him, he’s gonna fuck up the song again.

[ttaibhse]

i need to start up running again i haven't been in ages and i feel shitty about it but i still just don't really want to. especially now it's getting colder lol i like running in cool weather but when it's actually cold not as much. i was getting so bored of it idrk why i guess because i was running out of new routes to do... i hate running along the road and the thought of adding more distance which basically would mean adding more time on the road or just mindless loops of the parks wasn't really motivating lol. and i felt like i stopped making progress. and then i got sick and the pain in my back/hips came back for a while. and to be honest i was/am just disappointed that i wasn't losing any weight at least not perceptibly and obviously i was lying when i said the goal of it wasn't to lose weight lol. like not the only goal i did/do also want to just be a fitter and more active person and not let my bones crumble into dust by middle age whatever but ultimately i want to lose weight and it just wasn't happening. even though i wasn't intentionally eating much more to make up for the extra activity but i probably was doing it without meaning to. like admittedly there were definitely times i would be like oh i can have a bit more i did a big run today. not all the time but enough i guess. i feel like shit i hate being this size & shape i miss being skinny and the more time passes with me not being skinny it gets harder to remember the negatives that came with it. like i look back now and i know i was always cold and exhausted and obsessed with food and my whole life revolved around it like i know all that but i looked so much better -_- my clothes looked nicer. if someone took a photo of me i only had to worry about hating my face not my body as well. or not as much at least lol i always hated it i guess. but omfg my face even looks worse now because its just doughy. i cant stand it. i cant believe how fucked up i look lol

i hate writing posts like this i sound so cookie cutter stereotypical ED girl. it's so so embarrassing i can't stop feeling like this at nearly 28. im 28 in like 10 days and the first time i remember consciously deciding to stop eating to lose weight i was 10 or 11. my mum still seems to have genuinely blocked out the memories of it like any of it even though we talked about it at several different points in time when i was a teenager and i said to her what was going on and she was so angry with me like furious with me. and then again when i was an adult and just said outright because i knew i had put on weight over lockdown and i knew she thought i had just lost control of myself because she said so to my sister

so i said to her like look i was only really thin in uni because i was in like a 1.5k calorie deficit every single day. there were days i would stand up at the end of a lecture and almost black out lol so i said all that maybe 3 or 4 years ago was the last time i brought it up icr but still if the topic of eating disorders or similar comes up she will say things like "i hope youve never felt that way" LMFAO like full sincerity i swear to fucking god i dont understand. but anyway its not a great feeling knowing she thinks im fat because i just dont take care of myself. even though it is true i suppose. and every time i see my granny she comments on my weight. so anyway all that to say that's how i know it's true and it's not just in my head

like i can acknowledge that back in the day when i was something like 55kg and still thought i was huge that was some kind of dysmorphia involved. but not any more and it's just kind of a blow because i had finally started accepting this idea that i wasn't as big as i thought and now i am it's like i don't know like going backwards. like a nightmare come true or something it's literally all the bad thoughts i would have about myself are true now. i am that fat or even worse because i think i've been deluding myself i think i'm actually now bigger than i think i am. and i am lazy and eat badly and it still feels like my options are total lack of control or the tightest rein possible. theres no good middle ground i dont know how people find a middle ground. how do you eat normally lol. ive only ever been thin when i was barely eating + walking miles and miles every day AND on testosterone. i tried to do eating normally and now im so huge and i dont know what to do like logically i know there are people out there who have got it right so why cant i get it right

[pisupsala]

One for The History Books [Epilogue] [Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw]

[Summary] You are an archivist at the Pentagon, sent on assignment to TOPGUN to catalog and report on a top-secret mission. In the days under the Californian sun, a certain naval aviator puts your once orderly life in a tailspin that you might never recover from.

[Pairing] Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!reader / Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!oc

[Warnings] Mature content: swearing, (explicit) smut. 18+ only.

[Words] 6.4k

[Index] All Chapters | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Epilogue

[Library]

The gravel crunches under the wheels of the rented Bronco as Bradley easily steers it into a parking spot. The lot in front of the Hard Deck is busy, even though it’s closed for a private party tonight.

You smooth down your dress as you get from the car. The loose cut makes the soft fabric gently sway in the wind, grazing your mid-thigh. The smell of salt on the gentle ocean breeze hits you, still warm from the late summer sun. It takes you back to three years ago, when you found yourself here for the first time. You close your eyes for a moment.

The first time you saw Bradley.

Back then, you didn’t know yet that it was the night your entire world pitched off its axis. You didn’t really feel it until you fell—and kept falling. Even now, you’re not always sure your feet have touched on solid ground yet.

“You okay, darlin’?” Bradley appears next to you, his fingers grazing the skin of your neck and shoulders, exposed by the wide neck of your dress.

“Yeah.” You smile up at him. Your heart still does a little jump when your eyes lock—especially today; when he looks so relaxed, every smile reaches his eyes, and he carries himself with such easy confidence, lighting up every room.

Sure, it also doesn’t hurt he’s wearing his service khakis, that look like they’ve been molded onto his body. His classic aviators complete the image of effortless coolness. It’s like you’re falling for him all over again.

Bradley closes the car door for you, before running tracing his fingers down your spine before resting on the small of your back, guiding you to the entrance of the Hard Deck. He greets some fellow officers shortly on the way, never taking his hand from your back.

Inside, the Hard Deck is busy, filled to the brim with uniformed personnel. Penny and Amelia clearly made an effort in decorating the place for tonight— red, white, and blue garlands hang from the ceiling, banners, the works. You smile; some if it is definitely Amelia’s handiwork. She has a real creative streak.

“Bradley! Darcy!” Penny is making her way through the crowd, smiling broadly. She looks amazing—her long dress makes her look like she stepped out of a classical painting. “I’m so glad you guys made it.”

You gladly accept her hug, before she turns to Bradley to hug him too. “We’re glad to be here.” He smiles.

“I love what you’ve done with the place.” You say, looking around. 

“Thank you, I’m glad it actually turned out well,” Penny chuckles. “Today has been absolutely crazy.”

“You should have called, I could have come earlier to help.” You say a bit worriedly. 

“Nonsense, you guys have been so busy, you should enjoy your time off together.” Penny dismisses you easily, looping her arms through yours. “Let’s get you guys some drinks—what are you having?”

“A beer for me.” Bradley says as he follows you to the bar.

“I’ll have a… sparkling water.” 

Penny doesn’t say anything, but her gaze quickly travels down to your midsection. Her eyes meet yours for a moment, and you can feel the burning question behind them.

“I’m just thirsty.” You laugh, waving her away. “It’s so warm today.”

“Of course.” She smiles back.

Amelia is sat at the bar, and as you receive your drinks, in lieu of a greeting, she just says: “That empire waist looks cute.”

Teenager. 

Penny rolls her eyes, and you thank Amelia graciously, trying to not blush. 

Bradley is silently laughing as he leads you away to greet Pete, who is the guest of honor today.

“I think they are on to us.” He chuckles softly as he uses his free hand to pull you against him.

“Pff, I never expected differently from Penny. Amelia is surprising, though.” You sigh. “As long as they keep it to themselves, I’ll pretend this is a vodka soda or something.” You take a sip from your drink.

Two-and-a-half months. That’s how far you are along. You’ve only known for about four weeks, but since then it’s become your most closely guarded secret, shared only with Bradley.

Being a stickler for rules under normal circumstances already, you are so nervous about something going wrong, you implored Bradley not to tell anyone before the three-month mark, and especially not at Pete’s retirement party tonight. 

Unfortunately, you met up with Penny right after you found out when you and Bradley visited in Nevada before they flew out for Pete’s retirement ceremony, and you already used the excuse of coming off medication when refusing a glass of wine.

It’s not going to fly again.

You haven’t seen Pete anywhere yet, but you assume he’s being kept busy as the guest of honor. Bradley stops to talk with Mickey, while you greet Nat. It’s been a while since you’ve seen her, but she’s amazingly sharp as always.

“Bradshaw, as I live and breath.” Seresin emerges from the crowd, clapping Bradley on the back. 

“Hangman.” He greets back, nodding shortly, before moving just a fraction closer to you, his hand still resting on the small of your back.

“And if it isn’t Miss Williams.” He continues, grinning mischievously. “I have to say, I am surprised…”

Yep. Still an asshole.

You smile politely, as you hold up your left hand. “Actually…” You start.

“That’s Dr. Bradshaw to you, Bagman.” Bradley cuts in, almost arrogantly. 

Honestly. 

You giggle. He still allows Seresin to get a rise out of him so easily. You have to admit, it’s kind of cute how proud Bradley is of you. It sure as hell makes you feel amazing. 

Seresin’s momentarily utterly confused look is worth it, too. Although, he recovers in typical fashion: “Well, I suppose congratulations are in order to you both. But especially Rooster, because she’s even more out of your league now.”

“Doesn’t Darcy go by Dr. Bradshaw-Williams?” Nat suddenly pipes up, shutting both Bradley and Seresin up. Mickey nearly chokes on his beer. “Since, as I recall, she had a career and got the PhD before she got a husband.”

You cannot stop yourself from laughing as you thank Nat under your breath. Bradley scoffs. After you received your doctorate, Bradley absolutely beamed with pride every time he introduced you—and you still had your maiden name then, as you were only engaged. 

After you got married, and you sent him a picture of the new name plaque on your office door, Nat told you he showed it off to the whole wing.

You chose to hyphenate your name—Nat is right about that. You already have a career and publications under your maiden name, and it’s an absolute bitch to get your name changed on all those articles retroactively. Plus, you don’t want to suddenly lose any name recognition, so you hyphenate mostly for work purposes.

“True, but Dr. Bradshaw works just fine.” You grin, lightly touching Bradley’s arm. To his credit, Bradley never made an issue of you hyphenating your last name. He even admitted to you he would understand if you kept your maiden name when you discussed it. 

But you know him. 

When you told him you would take his last name together with your own, the look in his eyes told you everything you needed to know. It was the only right decision—because deep down, it was incredibly important to him: the idea of family being a family together and sharing a name.

Bradley presses a kiss against your temple, as Seresin rolls his eyes. “Who’s up for some pool?”

“We need to talk to Mav first.” Bradley replies. “Any idea where he is?”

“Probably at the pool table, actually.” Mickey replies. 

Bradley leads you through the crowd, arm wrapped around you to keep anyone from bumping into you. 

You give Pete a big hug, congratulating him. 

“How does it feel?” You ask, smiling.

“Strange, very strange.” He admits with a half-smile. “I don’t think it’s complete sunk in yet.”

“How was the ceremony?” You inquire conversationally. Pete chose to have his ceremony onboard of the USS Roosevelt together with his closest fellow aviators and colleagues a few weeks ago. Bradley had been there, while you stayed behind with Penny. This was the party for everyone who wasn’t at the ceremony.

“It was very nice, but let’s not talk about that now. I’d rather hear how you are doing.” Pete replies with a grin. Ah, it probably still feels raw for him, finally retiring from active duty. “How’s the new house? Are you getting settled?”

“Yeah, it’s finally as good as done.” You let out a sigh of relief. “You should come visit sometime soon.”

The last six months have been insane: you got married, bought a new place together, Bradley went on a 6-week detachment, you tried your hardest to turn that house into a home and then you got pregnant. You haven’t even been on honeymoon yet. Now, you try not to think about having to convert one of the bedrooms into a nursery soon.

“It’s as good as done if Darcy doesn’t keep buying more books,” Bradley jokes. “I will be building shelves forever at this rate.”

Pete laughs, as you gently elbow Bradley in the ribs, frowning playfully. 

“I’m kidding, darlin’, I’ll build you all the shelves you want.” He concedes, laughing too. You really, really try not to blush at the implication behind Bradley’s words.

Yeah, so, you thought you had a thing for Bradley in uniform? Try having him working with his hands, power tools, in the house you bought together. Fuck. You could try to blame it on the newlywed rush, coming off birth control, missing Bradley—but the bottom line is—he’s so good with his hands, and looks so fine doing it, you’re 99% sure the shelves are the reason you’re pregnant now.

“I’m glad you kids are doing well.” Pete comments, almost wistfully.

“Thanks Mav.” Bradley replies sincerely. Although he’d probably never admit it as such, Bradley cares deeply about Pete’s opinion, and wants his approval. It’s something that goes unspoken between them, but is mutually understood.

The moment is disturbed by Seresin waltzing past with a tray of shots. “Rooster, Maverick, you’re up—two v. two against Payback and me.”

Pete and Bradley share one look—and you know they will never back down from a challenge like that. Shaking your head, you follow them to the pool table. 

“Go sit down, darlin’.” Bradley leads you to a bar stool, pressing a kiss to your forehead as you slide onto it. “You still good?” He asks quietly. 

You nod, smiling. Bradley is trying not to be overbearing, but he wants to make sure you are comfortable. You are okay with that—smothering, not so much. Bradley starts racking the balls as Seresin is distributing shots, and even though you shake your head, he presses one into your hand. 

“Come on, Willia- shit, I have to call you Bradshaw now.” He corrects himself. 

“You can call me Darcy.” You laugh.

“Will your husband be okay with that?” He taunts. Bradley shoots his a murderous look from the table.

“It’s my name, you ass.” You reply with a fake smile. “And I don’t want a shot.”

You move to put the glass back onto the tray Seresin is holding.

“It’s for a toast to Maverick’s health,” Seresin plays up his faux shock. “Surely you can’t say no to that?”

“Leave my wife alone, Hangman.” Bradley warns.

“Please tell me you didn’t get so boring since marrying Rooster.” Seresin continues needling you, ignoring Bradley. “You used to be fun: doing shots, shotgunning beers…”

You roll your eyes. Of course he wouldn’t let up, acting like going out with you and Bradley wasn’t a one-off, that time when Seresin suddenly showed up in Arlington. 

You hold the shot glass up, shooting Seresin a sarcastic smile as he walks away. There’s not arguing with him. 

“I’ll drink it for you.” Bradley whispers, turning to you. 

“Don’t worry about it, babe.” You shake your head, as he runs his knuckles over your upper arm. “I’ll get rid of it—you keep all your faculties for the game.” You add, teasing.

“I’m glad you have such faith in me, darlin’.” Bradley drawls sarcastically. You blow him a kiss in response. Penny joins the crowd, standing next to Pete—they look radiant together—as an old friend of Pete’s makes the toast.

As everyone kicks back their drink, you bring the shot glass up to your sealed lips, tilting your head back as if you’re drinking, only to dump the clear liquid into the melting ice of your water glass as you move your head back down. 

You put away both glasses on the bar behind you, wiping your lips with the back of your hand. Bradley’s fingers gently wrap around your chin, tilting your face up to his. 

“A kiss for good luck?” He murmurs against your lips.

You giggle, pressing your lips against his. He tastes faintly of vodka. “I’ll be here, enjoying the view.”

“Order me another beer, sweetheart?” He asks as he accepts a cue stick from Pete. You nod affirmative, as Penny slides onto the bar stool next to you. 

“Smooth move.” She comments airily. You just shoot her a look as you accept a new glass of sparkling water and a beer from the bartender. She knows. But you just shake your head.

“Not yet. Not today.” You don’t elaborate—you don’t have to. Penny nods in understanding as she grabs your hand and squeezes it in assurance. An understanding of ‘I know what you’re going through’. You squeeze back as a thank-you.

“At least one of us will be sober enough to drive.” You comment dryly, nodding to the pool table as Bradley and Pete knock back another shot. You dissolve into giggles with Penny.

You chat with Penny as the boys play, later teaming up with Nat to take on Bob and Mickey. Dodging Seresin and his mission to get everyone blind drunk (it is an open bar, but man, show some restraint), which you think you’re doing a pretty decent job of.

You keep ‘forgetting’ your drink on the side table, or just simply handing it to Bradley as you pretend to focus on the game. Barley beating the boys, you high five Nat.

“C’mon, let's have a drink to celebrate.” She grabs your elbow and leads you to the bar.

“I’m good.” God, you never realized how hard it’s to dodge every offer of alcohol. You tug back a little, stopping Nat. “Designated driver.” You grin lightly, shrugging. 

Nat cocks an eyebrow, knowing full well it’s several hours before you’ll leave. You hold your smile on your face, trying to look as neutral as possible. It’s not even a lie—you are the designated driver. But Nat is sharp. Thankfully, she’s also tactful and doesn’t push the issue. 

You make your way to Bradley, who is standing at the dart board with a few others, wrapping your arms around his waist. He immediately, automatically puts his arm around, and presses a kiss on the top of your head.

After that, there is a flurry of names and faces—so many people know Bradley, knew his dad, and want to talk to him. The smile never leaves his face. You know he is loving this, he loves being around people, and he does it so well—laughing, joking, telling stories.

People gravitate to him, his genuine warmth and his light. He doesn’t always see it himself that way and uses his extraversion as a mask, but it’s really him. 

“It’s good to see you, son.” An older man claps Bradley on the shoulder, before pulling him into a hug. “Taking after your old man more and more, I see.” He adds jokingly. 

Bradley laughs. “I can only hope.” 

You politely chat to the man’s wife—honestly, your brain is turning to mush from all the names—supplying her with details of your newlywed status.

“That’s not Carole’s ring, is it? She asks suddenly, gently grabbing your hand. 

“No, we decided to keep them together.” You share a look with Bradley as you both smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Back then, when he stayed in Texas for a month, Bradley had put any thoughts of marriage to rest for the time being. He knew then already: it’s not that he doesn’t want to marry you eventually—it still crosses his mind regularly—but he’s not sure if you will actually say yes right now. He doesn’t feel worthy of it. Not yet. 

So he doesn’t bring it up. Neither do you.

After he comes back he has time to spend by himself with his memories, that you are lovingly and painstakingly restoring for him. While you are out for work, he flips through the pictures, trying to remember, to feel those moments again. 

Some evenings he sits quietly next to you, as you pull nitrile gloves on, hair in a messy bun, and slowly, carefully go through every picture. You go through almost meditative motions as you reapply glue, precisely placing the photo on the page, humming softly.

He loves it.

It’s such an incredibly intimate affair. There are no words. There is no touching, but it’s like watching you preform surgery on his soul. For Bradley, these moments are like a vacuum in time, simultaneously without end, but also always too short. 

It’s only when you stretch out, groaning involuntarily as your spine pops, it’s like the bubble burst. 

Running his fingers over the tight muscles in your shoulders, Bradley jokes:

“You should work on your posture.” 

You moan softly in response, eyes closed, as he works out the knots in your back. 

Bradley has purposefully been avoiding the box that has the display case with his father’s funeral flag. You asked him what he wanted to do with it, but truthfully, he just shrugged, not having an answer. You regarded him carefully, like you were trying to discern what he was thinking. Ultimately, you suggest keeping it in the box for the time being with the other items, gently waylaying the decision to the future.

It stays there until after Christmas.

You spend Christmas at your parents’ place in Colorado together, and despite the numerous arguments you have with your sister, seeing you with family, being welcomed into your family, makes Bradley ache for having his own. 

With you. 

When you return home, Bradley’s head is once again filled with those intrusive thoughts. His gaze is trained on your hand as you play with a pen while reading, running your fingers through your hair in deep thought, wrapped around a mug of tea as you watch TV together. It looks so bare, and it’s almost offensive to him. 

He should get it together and ask you to marry him. It’s been months since that seed took hold in his brain, and it has been only growing, even though he tried not to feed it. The vines have now irrevocably entangled him, and Bradley knows he can’t pull them off without tearing his soul apart in the process.

He just doesn’t feel ready. It’s like he’s been rooted in place.

If Bradley is completely honest with himself, he never particularly put much thought in marriage or family in his own life. Ironically, that has been leading him down a lonely work alcoholic path similar to Mav’s (and Bradley even had the gall to call him out on it—it’s embarrassing in hindsight). But the solution seems so simple. He’ll get his mom’s ring, ask you, and pray you will say yes.

But it’s when he finally actually sits down at your desk and opens the small items box, even the little bit of resolve he feels melts away. His mom’s ring and dad’s dog tags sit snugly together, like their last earthly possession have found their final resting place. Together, as they should be. It feels almost sacrilegious as Bradley takes the ring out, and inspects it.

It’s really quite dirty, grime stuck along the setting, the yellow gold band dull. He rolls the ring around in his palm, weighing it, trying to figure out why it doesn’t feel… right.

The center topaz glints happily in the sun—and it reminds him of his mom. Her warmth, the way she could light up a room with a single smile, and her incredibly energy. She was the sun; keeping him in orbit, on the right path. 

Leaning his head on his head, he sighs. But that’s not you. You are steady and patient; a calming presence. Not a force of nature in the way his mom was, but rather a gentle guiding light.

Bradley didn’t realize how little he could actually see until you illuminated his path home, like his own personal north star. And Bradley wants more than anything to always come home to you.

He decides to mull it over as he leaves for deployment. Every time he makes port somewhere, he cannot help but stop in front of a jewelry store. Looking at the displays, he feels lost.

What would you actually like? What would actually make sense for someone who hardly wears jewelry?

Before he left, he took a quick look at your sparsely filled jewelry box—it’s mostly filled with simple silver designs. It makes him grin. You are such a practical person, even when it comes to things that are supposed to be nice.

Nothing catches his eyes for weeks—months, even. He googles, trying to come up with a better description than: something Darcy would like, something that will make her happy every time she looks at it, something she will wear every day. But nothing seems to fit.

Bradley finds himself in Portsmouth, England for a week. His fellow aviators have cottoned on and absolutely to refuse to let go of the matter. A few of the younger guys don’t understand the big deal (like, it’s all cool if it’s like a diamond, right?) while others seem to firmly on the side that it’s romantic.

To Bradley, it’s becoming torture.

It’s only the second time around, when he walks past several of the city’s jewelry stores, something finally catches his eye. He looks at the ring through the glass—a thin silver band, beset with a round light blue stone, surrounded by what he assumes are diamonds. But it looks too big, so he leaves it at that. 

The next days are busy, full of preparations for departure festivities before embarking back west to Nova Scotia before returning to Virginia. The more he thinks about that fucking ring, the more he realizes that… that might actually be the perfect one. He doesn’t remember any of the other rings he’s seen, but this one stayed on his mind from the moment he saw it.

On departure day, already dressed in his Navy whites, he makes an attempt at looking dignified while dashing to the store. Please, please be open, he prays.

He practically Kramers into the store, his loafers skidding on the polished wooden floor. The poor clerk is so out of sorts he just looks at Bradley mutely, eyes wide in surprise. 

“Good morning.” Bradley smiles, breathing a little too hard, trying to regain some composure. “I want to buy a ring.”

The clerk nods, before jolting into action.

“So, this is a white gold ring, with a halo design: the center stone a beautiful light blue aquamarine, beset with white diamond accent stones, which-” The clerk is doing going through his sales pitch, showing the ring from all angles in the glittering light, but Bradley really doesn’t have time. He shouldn’t even be off the boat right now.

“Sounds lovely.” He cuts in diplomatically. “Can I see it?”

Perturbed, the clerk hand him the ring. Bradley runs his finger over the gems—the setting is smooth. He likes to imagine you would wear this when working: not tearing through gloves, comfortable as you write—and the light blue is elegant and understated.

It feels so much more like you.

In the palm of his hand, the ring doesn’t look that big, but your hands are significantly smaller. Before he can start overthinking it again, Bradley decides that, hell, even if the stone is a bit large—surely it’s not that bad to show off that you are engaged?

Bradley is so lost in thought, he doesn’t really hear the clerk patter on about upselling him on similar rings, different boxes, gift wrapping—the works. Rather than to waste even more time, he just cuts to the chase.

“Do you take credit?” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, commander, are you ready for tonight?” You are fixing your hair in the bathroom mirror. Bradley peeks into the bathroom, appreciating how his favored sundress is clinging to every curve of your body. He was recently promoted, and so you had taken it upon yourself to tease him a bit with his new rank. Just to get used to it a little.

“I’m all good.” His eyes rake over your body, appreciatively. “You look great, darlin’.”

You turn to him with a smile, dress twirling. Bradley is dressed casually—you’re only going to a 4th of July cook out, after all. But you can’t help but be nervous, you really don’t want to be over or underdressed. 

“You sure this is okay?” You ask, hesitantly. It’s the first time you’re actually doing a thing with his work buddies, at work. And you’re his guest.

“More than okay.” He assures you. To him, it’s adorable how worried you are. But it’s also a good thing, because if you are worried about what you are wearing, maybe you’ll be less likely to clock him. Bradley is sure the anxiety is rolling off him in waves, to the point where his own voice sounds weirdly forced to him. 

For weeks that little box has been going everywhere with him—in his pocket, glove compartment, locker—sometimes he almost wished you would just find it. Now he needs to find a good way to keep it on him—he can’t really ask you to keep it in your purse, but it’s too warm to wear a jacket. So he takes a risk.

“I’ll pack you a hoodie, okay, sweetheart?” He says, turning around and walking to the bedroom to grab his gray zip up hoodie. “In case you get cold later.”

He can pretend it’s the gentlemanly thing to do and hold it for you, hiding the ring in one of the pockets. He’ll have to keep an eye on it during the day, but he’ll have to keep his wits about him either way.

Because today is the day.

He is going to ask you to marry him. 

Finally, he can accept that there will never be a perfect moment. The goalposts will always move, and new challenges come up on the horizon at every turn, and the darkness doesn’t disappear as easily as it came.

But you stick by him.

You stick by him through the deployments, the comms blackouts, the things he can’t talk about, the things he wants to talk about but hurt. You are the constant. 

Some dark nights, when sleep is elusive, he wonders what it is he actually does for you to make you want to endure him. 

On the other hand, whatever it is he’s doing, it’s working. Your face breaks into a smile when you see him, and when pulls you in for a dance in the cereal aisle, your laughter is definitely taking over your mortification, and secretly his favorite? You don’t stop singing immediately when he walks into the room, allowing him to listen before you revert to soft humming.

Your sister casually mentioned you were in choir in high school, intending to make fun of you (you threatened to stab her with a butter knife at the dinner table), but for Bradley that was… well, music to his ears.

But now he needs to get through this afternoon, the ring box practically burning a hole through the hoodie in his hand as you strap on your sandals. 

Every time you catch his eye that day, talking to people, playing with one of the kids, every time you smile, it burns him a little bit more.

Finally, the sun is setting, and the first fireworks start soon. 

“Let’s go for a walk.” Bradley whispers in your ear, easily whisking you away from a conversation with one of the junior officers in his wing. Your fingers thread through his immediately, as he leads you away from the noisy crowd of the party, along the shoreline away from the harbor.

“Aren’t the fireworks starting soon?” You ask, looking back quickly. You are moving away from the fireworks show, which strikes you as strange. Bradley has spent weeks talking that the fireworks show they put in Virginia Beach is absolutely amazing, and you really have to spend the 4th of July there, having a booked a hotel even before you agreed. In hindsight, that should really have been a hint.

You descend from the walkway down to the beach, the waves softly lapping at the sand the only sound around. The sun is in those final minutes before it drops behind the horizon competently, covering everything in a palette of oranges and reds like a final goodbye. The wind picks up every so slightly, causing you to shiver. 

“Good thing I brought this.” Bradley jokes, although his voice sounds somewhat forced, as he slips the zipped open hoodie over your shoulders.

“Where would I be without you?” You chuckle. In your periphery you see his Bradley’s closed fist, knuckles straining, like he’s holding on to something heavy. Before you can ask, he twirls you around, resting your back to his chest, arm wrapped around your waist.

“The fireworks will come from there—and trust me, this is the absolutely best spot to see them.” In his own ears, he doesn’t sound nearly as smooth or confident as he’d like. You turn your head at him, smiling contently. The final rays of sunshine are dancing over his skin, the dark shadows brining your every movement of his muscles and illuminating his curls in a golden hue. How can you be so lucky? 

Not being able to stop yourself, you pepper kisses along his jaw. Bradley kisses you back, almost absentmindedly, eyes looking away in the distance.

There is something strange about being on an empty part of the beach, so close to dark. The twilight has a foreboding feeling to it. Maybe it’s the anticipation for the show, although that feels like a too-shallow explanation for the strange twisting in your stomach. It feels like… it feels like you’re about to take an exam that you haven’t studied for—woefully under prepared and no insight about what is happening.

You lean back into Bradley, who tightens his arm around you, listening to the soft swash of the sea. When the first rocket soars into the night sky, dappling the darkness with red, white and blues, he hears you gasp softly. This is it. 

His eyes travel down your delighted face, hands clasped in front of your chest, the colors of the fireworks reflecting in your eyes. You’ve never looked prettier to him. 

Slowly, gently, as not to startle you from your enchantment, Bradley loosens his hold on your waist, fingers ghosting along your stomach before retracting his arm completely. When he steps back in a moment, it will be the point of no return, as you will surely notice then. He’s holding on to the ring box so tightly, it feels he’s about to crush it with his nervous energy alone.

On three, commander, he tries to spur himself into action.

He counts back to one at least ten times before pushes himself back with a little bit more force than intended, taking a clumsy step back. It’s now or never. The adrenaline coursing through his veins makes it feel like time is slowing down, allowing him to see every move with anxious clarity.

You start to turn, look of surprise on your face as the colors from the sky reflect on your skin. Your mouth is opening to say something, forehead creasing in confusion.

Not at all gracefully, certainly not with the level of control one might expect from an experienced aviator, Bradley lands on his knee in the sand before you can complete your motion. Your eyes meet, and for a second, a second that seems to stretch into infinity, nothing happens.

The flickers of colored light are the indication that time has not ground to halt completely as you stand rooted to the ground, unable to parse what is happening. There are so many thoughts running absolutely rampant through your head, you cannot find coherence.

Bradley is holding his breath—maybe he’s forgotten how to breathe—as he looks up at you. This is on him. He needs to make a move.

Finally loosening his vice-like grip on the ring box, he rests it in his palm. He rehearsed the words in his head so many times, wrote them down, rewrote them, kept them tucked in the pocket of his shirt. And now they seem to have evaporated from existence. 

“I want to come home to you for the rest of my days.” He starts, his voice mercifully steady unlike his insides, which seems to have turned into jello, quaking with every heartbeat. He’s completely winging it now.

Your brain appears to finally be capable of reaction, as your hand covers your mouth, tears threatening to spill from your brilliant eyes. “I promise to take care of you as you do for me, love you -” He trails off, eyes flickering away for a moment in embarrassment. So much for rehearsal. Don’t think, just do.

“I don’t want to be without you anymore.” He concludes, voice strong. “You are the light of my life, everything make sense with you. Please, Darcy, will you marry m-” 

He never gets to finish the sentence as you catapult yourself into him, arms desperately wrapping around his neck, your lips crashing into his. He falls backwards into the sand, catching you by the waist, your tears dripping on his face.

This is a good thing, right? Bradley muses. This is a good reaction. He thinks. You haven’t said anything, you didn’t even let him finish. Hell, you didn’t even wait for him to open the ring box. It’s currently in the sand, his hand blindly grasps for it, clutching it in his hand.

Maybe all that really isn’t as heavy and important as he made it out to be. Maybe all that really matters that you are happy, and he is a source of that happiness.

You break the kiss, sniffling a bit before breaking into soft laughter, the amalgamation of emotions raging within. Bradley watches it play all on your face anxiously.

“Yes.” You smile. “With every part of my being, yes.”

It’s like he can now relax and finally solidifies back into reality. Laughing, he lies back into the sand, pulling you with him in a kiss. Behind your back, he pops the ring box open and takes the ring out. 

“Give me your hand.” He murmurs against your lips. Sitting up a little, you watch with bated breath as Bradley takes your hand, and tenderly slides a ring on your ring finger. Holding on to your hand, he presses a kiss to your knuckles, as if to seal the ring in place. The stones glint in the sparse light of the night, the fireworks having died down. 

Bradley follows your every move carefully as you take a closer look at the ring.

“It’s beautiful.” You say breathlessly, tears prickling in your eyes again. It’s by far the nicest piece of jewelry you probably ever owned, and you don’t think you’ll ever own anything more precious. “I’m never taking it off.” 

Bradley laughs, eyes filled with happiness. “That’s the idea, darlin’.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Slowly but surely the party at the Hard Deck winds down. You are set next to Bradley at the piano, head resting on his shoulder as he plays the melody to Pink Floyd’s Wish You Were Here for you. It was always one of your favorite songs, something you would hum under your breath as you worked or did chores. 

One day, you had been humming along exactly like that, softly singing excerpts from the lyrics to yourself as you were unpacking boxes in your new living room. It was the strangest moment, when your humming was suddenly accompanied by the soft tones of the piano, Bradley adding little flourishes to the melody.

You were stunned into silence—you had heard Bradley play before, but never this song. Did he learn it for you? Because you hummed it? And he noticed? 

If you hadn’t been married already at that point, you would have married him again. A thousand times over, just for that. 

So you sat down next to him, exactly as you are sitting now. You started humming again as he harmonized with you. Music is what connects Bradley to his family and memories, and you could see in his eyes that this was something he wanted—that he needed. No matter how scared you are to sound off-key (like… he’s actually good, you are generally glad to hold a note), you enjoy this moment to the fullest.

And every moment after that, when he plays that song, just for you.

“I’m ready to go when you are.” He tells you softly. You just watch his fingers deftly dance over the piano keys for a bit longer. You will never tire of watching him move so elegantly, so precisely and with so much feeling. 

“I’m about ready to go home.” You nod, smiling. “But you can stay if you want? I think Nat and the others are staying longer.”

You look at the group milling around the bar still. Bradley follows your gaze but shakes his head.

“You sure?” You ask. Stationed all around the nation, hell, half the world, they don’t get together in one place that much. 

“Positive.” He replies, getting up from the piano.

“Dr. Bradshaw, if I may have the honor?” He holds out his hand to help you up, that cocky half-smile gracing his lips and mirth in his eyes—he knows you a little too well how to get you hot under the collar.

You laugh, blush dusting your cheeks. “Take us home, commander Bradshaw.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[note]And that's truly it for the main story. All in all, it clocks in at about 100k words, including the existing side stories. That's officially longer than my thesis. So what's next? Side stories (one already done, coming very soon), editing (lol), some more art, and I may or may not have been thinking about a new story. As long as stays fun to do! Again. Thank you for reading my first fic in a decade. I couldn't have chosen a nicer fandom to return to—you guys make it worth it. See you at the next one!

[taglist] @ponyboys-sunsets | @thatchickwiththecamera | @littlewhiterose | @katieshook02 | @straightforwardly | @zazzysseoul | @rororo06 | @datingbtr | @notalxx | @fresh-new-yoik-watah | @gretagerwigsmuse  | @swthxrry | @joshkiskasbunion | @caelipartem | @blackbrownie | @yanak324 | @unluckymonaghan | @letusbewildflowers | @ticklish-leafy-plant | @alana4610 | @eg-dr3amer3 | @turningtoclown | @mell-bell | @mak-32 | @avis15 | @helplesslydevoted | @benhardysdrumstick | @chaoticversion | @cherrycola27 | @roosterschanelslut

[the-archangel]

Never Tear Us Apart

Part of the @cp77nyexchange for @elvenbeard, hope it's just what you always wanted!

There was a time not so long ago that just waking up with a roof over his head was enough for V, hell whether he’d wake up at all wasn’t something he took for granted. If he really tried, he could have imagined finding the Eddies to rent his own place again; as long as there was a bookshelf, a bed and a laptop he would be more than happy, but anything on top of that would have seemed a pipe dream.

Relationships were definitely off the cards too, the couple of times he’d dabbled in the fetid waters of the Night City dating pool he couldn’t swim away fast enough, there may be plenty of fish in the sea, but most of them were either sharks or blobfish.

As for work, much as he hated everything Arasaka stood for it was at least a steady job with regular pay and when it was over the choices were limited, since selling his ass on a street corner didn’t particularly appeal, he fell into the merc work and turned out to be pretty good at it. But the jobs and the training took over his life and for the kind of crappy gigs he was getting the pay was scop too, all he could see in his future was the same again, day after day, though on the upside mercs didn’t tend to live to be old and grey so it wouldn’t be his future for very long.

That’s why, every morning, rain or shine, good sleep or bad, V smiles. He’s got more than he ever imagined and although ‘stuff’ doesn’t make him happy, security and love definitely do and he has both of those in abundance.

Kerry never doubted that he’d be successful and wealthy, it took years of hard work and some shady decisions sure, but he knew he’d get there in the end. What he did doubt was that he’d ever find someone to share his life with.

At first, he just didn’t see the point, he fell in love every week, every day sometimes and would give the object of his affection every ounce of his being for the time they were together, until, like a magpie attracted by shiny things, he’d find a new obsession and move on without looking back. That lifestyle took it’s toll though, he was getting a reputation and making increasingly poor choices so he took himself out of the loop, went back home and returned some time later with a new mindset, he was ready to find ‘the one’. That was over forty years ago and much as he’d found several ‘definitely not the one’s’ in that time, it was only in the last few years that he could say he’d succeeded.

Right now, ‘the one’ was back home in Night City, Kerry had never wanted to go home as badly as he does right now, but there’s one more day and night of schmoozing and interviews to get through first and, since he’s in New York for the first time in forever, some Christmas shopping to catch up on.

-

“Hey,”

Kerry’s voice in V’s holo is heavy with sleep but still sexy as fuck.

“Hey back atcha, how’s it goin’?” V says brightly from his nest of pillows, Nibbles purring softly at his side.

“Shiiit, I’m sorry V, y’know I always forget about the time difference, I just…I just really missed your voice.”

“It’s fine,” chuckles the fixer, “been up for a while, emails to catch up on and stuff. Was going for a run but the weather’s stupid right now,” he turns around his optics to let Kerry see the view from their window. “Storm’s not even properly here yet and it’s already like Ragnarök out there.”

The storm had been working its way up the coast for days, Pacifica was getting the worst of it right now, so it was only a matter of hours before it hit Little China, the sky was already black, the dark clouds skittering madly ahead of the incoming wind.

Kerry’s perfect brows meet in concern, “You gonna be alright up there? Maybe you should go to the villa, might be safer.”

“Sure, a house on the top of a hill is way safer than a modern apartment block, I’ll be fine working from home and just using the gym downstairs. Don’t worry.”

Kerry still looks unsure, “Fine, just…just keep me updated. Be on my way back this time tomorrow, can’t wait.”

“Mhm, me either, we can order in some food and have a cosy movie afternoon.”

“Sounds preem, love you.”

“You too Ker, speak soon.”

The holo darkens and V’s voice fades, it’s been a long couple of days but thank fuck it’ll be over soon.

-

New York is bright, but cold. Wrapped up in his padded jacket and scarf, the world-famous Rockerboy is completely anonymous, not that anyone around here cares who he is anyway. It’s a relief to be able to walk the streets without being mobbed or molested, though he still has a security guard following at a discrete distance.

Kerry loves buying presents, he can happily spend days picking out the exact right thing and the recipient always reacts with surprised delight, all except V. V is horrible to buy for, he asks for nothing because he wants nothing, says he’s got everything he needs; Kerry sees it as a personal challenge to find him a gift that will blow him away. He’s pretty sure he’s aced it this year, just needs to pick it up.

-

V wasn’t telling Kerry the absolute truth, he really wasn’t planning on leaving the penthouse, but he wasn’t there working and he wasn’t alone. He slides out from under the sheets puts his sneakers back on and picks his coffee up from the side table with Nibbles following him back down the stairs into the living area.

Sitting on the bottom step sipping at his drink, V watches the chaos unfold around him. Dark greenery is being swathed and erected around the room, whilst purple and gold accessories adorn the foliage and surfaces. He moves to one side to allow a small, busy woman in a red pantsuit to wrap the banister rail in ivy and pine, several other similarly dressed workers are putting their designer touches to the trees and bookshelves.

With only a few days to go until Christmas, the weather had forced Kerry and V to change their plans and spend the holidays at home instead of at the mountain cabin, as long as they were together neither minded too much, but it did mean that all the decorations and food that had been delivered up there were now only for the benefit of the staff. Before Kerry left, they’d decided to have a quiet day and make up for it on New Year’s Eve, but V knew that Kerry loved Christmas and really loved the over-the-top flamboyance that was positively encouraged at this time of year, so he wasn’t going to let him down. It had been tricky to find someone to do it at such short notice, but the Eurodyne name – and its Eddies – open a lot of doors.

-

Kerry’s day was dragging, interview after interview asking the same questions over and over. He wasn’t much of a clock watcher, barely knew what day it was sometimes never mind what time, but today the clock in the corner of his Kiroshis is counting him down to when he can finally pack his bags and head home. His initial intent was to set off in the morning, but fuck that, he can sleep on the plane, so he has his manager book a flight a couple of hours after his last commitment, his fifteenth hosting spot on SNL, and uses the time between interviews to pack his bags.

Back home, V watches Kerry’s performance on the big screen, cheesy as some of it is, he still finds himself smiling proudly throughout, a small, unsure part of him still finding it hard to believe that the Rock God on TV is his mainline. He knows that every look into the camera and every cheeky smile is his alone, safely away from the ongoing storm, and with a snoring Nibbles on his lap, there’s only one thing that could make this evening cosier.

Even as the credits are rolling a call comes through on the holo, “Heeeey V, bags are in the car I’m on the way to the airport.”

“Thought you weren’t setting off until morning?”

“I just want to be home, with you Vince. Besides, I’ve got something for ya.”

V groans inwardly, Kerry knows he’s not good with receiving gifts but he tries just the same, “That’s great Ker,” he fibs, “I’ll see you in a few hours, be safe.”

“You know I will, love ya V.”

“You too ya gonk.”

-

There are some things that even money can’t fix, chief amongst these is the weather. For the third time it is painstakingly being explained to Kerry that there are no direct flights to the West coast tonight, none, nada.

Kerry stops his complaining for a moment to take in what the airport security was telling him, “No, direct flights, fine,” This is why he usually has ‘people’ to do this shit for him, “what about indirect ones?”

An hour later he finally makes a flight, not to NC but to what remains of some place called Bakersfield, then there would be a two-hour drive the rest of the way, could be worse so he tries to stay upbeat explaining the sitch to V.

“How long til you land?” asks V sleepily.

“Bout four hours I think, get some sleep baby, I’ll be there before you know it.”

If V was sleepy, then Kerry was positively exhausted, the long days, the time difference, the lateness of the hour all took their toll and Kerry is asleep in moments.

-

“I’m sorry to disturb you Mr Eurodyne, but we’re about to land.”

Kerry is woken from a deep sleep, momentarily confused and disoriented he soon turns it back on for the air steward, “Thanks doll, congrats on the uber-comfy seats.”

The pretty steward smiles broadly– she had a poster of him on her wall at home and was quite star-struck– and advises him to fasten his seatbelt.

-

Making his way through the airport animatedly ‘discussing’ with his manager over the holo how to progress with the rest of the journey, Kerry doesn’t notice he is being followed and so is not at all ready when a strong hand grabs his wrist and spins him around…

“Vince!” he cries, happily burying his face in the other man’s neck and enjoying the sensation of being held in warm, safe arms. “Not gonna pretend I’m not pleased to see you, but what you doing here, it’s the middle of the fucking night, at least I think it is, it’s pretty dark anyways.”

V chuckles into Kerry’s collar, he could be such a gonk sometimes, “Couldn’t leave you to drive all that way alone. You’ve crashed your car twice this year just going to the other side of North Oak, I’d never be able to sleep knowing you were driving all this way.”

Both men lean into the hug a moment longer, then make their way hand in hand to the car, oblivious to the fuss and photos going on around them. “You were right about one thing,” V tells his mainline, “it really is the middle of the night, gonna sleep for a week when we get back.”

“Gonna sleep for a week eventually,” corrects Kerry.

-

The storm has abated, the usually littered streets of Night City look cleared somewhat, though looking into the darker corners reveals detritus - both human and otherwise - better left unexplored. Kerry always feels a weight settling on him when he returns, it’s comforting in some ways and has lessened of late, but it’s a constant reminder that he is fragile and mortal and he hates it. He’d snoozed away the last couple of hours, but wakes to the sun just rising above the horizon illuminating the neon and dust with a yellowish hue.

“I love this time of day,“ V says softly, somehow aware that Kerry has awoken, “the City looking fresh and new, full of possibilities.”

“As long as its full of coffee and toast that’ll do for now,”

V smiles and rests his hand on his lover’s thigh, “I’ve got a surprise for you back at home.”

Raising an eyebrow, Kerry looks deep into V’s emerald-green eyes, “I thought you said you were tired,” he smirks.

“Not that kind of surprise, at least not yet, you’ll see.”

-

Elevator music has not improved over the last hundred years or so, V grins and Kerry groans as a tinkly, jolly version of ‘User Friendly’ floods the small compartment, thankfully the journey isn’t a particularly long one and the doors to the penthouse slide open silently. Kerry lifts his head from where it had been resting on V’s shoulder, the twinkling lights reflected in his sapphire eyes.

“Shiiit Vince, it’s beautiful. When did you have time to do all this?” he asks stepping into the suddenly unfamiliar living space with wonder.

“Um, I managed to persuade the company that does the set design for your shows to loan us some stuff, they came over and…”

The sentence is stolen away by a fierce kiss from the Rockerboy who now looks at his lover, tender hands framing his tired face, “I don’t deserve you, but I’m never fucking letting you go.”

Another kiss and V leads Kerry through the golden and purple lights to the promised coffee and toast.

-

“You know I said I got you something?” Asks Kerry, espresso in one hand and half-eaten raisin toast in the other.

“Mhm,” answers V through a mouthful of cereal.

“Well, um…” Kerry is rarely tongue-tied, but finds himself anxious now the moment has come. Although always appreciative, V has never been impressed by a gift that Kerry (or anyone) had given him, though this one would be tricky to hide in a cupboard or re-gift. “Gimme a minute.”

Rummaging around in one of the bags still dumped by the elevator door, Kerry pulls out a slightly crumpled old-school cardboard folder tied with a ribbon, whilst V tries to organise his face and thoughts into something that looks and sounds grateful for whatever this turns out to be.

“You could’ve just emailed whatever this is y’know.”

“It’s Christmas, I wanted something you could hold in your hands, but you don’t need to hold it like it’s gonna explode, go on baby, open it.”

V places the folder on the counter and pulls on the ribbon with Kerry nervously looking over his shoulder, a hand resting gently on V’s hip. He watches as V first looks at the photo before placing it to one side and reading the paperwork with a furrowed brow.

“Erik?”

“Yeah, I thought he’d be company for Nibbles, we’re kinda away a lot and she gets lonely. Thought it’d be fun for her – and us - to have a kitten around. Can’t pick him up for a few weeks yet though.” Kerry bites his lower lip and looks up at the ex-merc for a reaction.

“You got me a kitten, seriously?”

“Kinda,” Kerry’s arms fall to his sides and he walks away perching on the edge of the coffee table, no longer able to look V in the eye, “Keep reading…”

There’s silence as V works his way through all the sheets in the folder, Kerry quietly slips out onto the balcony for a smoke and soon strong arms wrap around him and he leans back into the hug with relief.

“You’re completely mad, you know that right?”

“It’s been said. Just thought, y’know, if we owned the cat sanctuary then we know they’ve got everything they need and that they’re being looked after properly, and as an added bonus you can go over and pet the inmates whenever you’re feeling stressed.”

V hugs his mainline a little tighter, kissing him behind the ear. “Plus, it’ll give you something to do when you’re too old and doddery to go on stage anymore.” he whispers.

A well-placed elbow to the ribs makes V gasp and then giggle, he takes Kerry’s hand and leads him towards the living area and huge projector screen for the promised movie afternoon, though not much of the film is actually watched; both are gently snoring in each other’s arms within moments.

[vellaphoria]

hello! 2, 5, or 6 for the ask meme? : D

Thanks for the ask, anon! (questions are from this ask meme) 2. Will you participate in any fandom exchanges or fic challenges, etc?  I really really really want to, but I always seem to either miss the signups for them or forget that they're happening... 6. Which yet-to-be-started fic is first on your list?

It's 100% a DickTim witcher au >:3c further details in another answer (here)

5. Which WIP is first on your list to complete this year? Will you post a snippet?

Definitely the Tim comes back wrong fic, now with vampirism XD

The fic is currently 21k long, so this counts as an excerpt, right? right

Forty-two minutes after Tim’s alarm went off, Dick watches him shuffle past the kitchen’s bar counter. It’s five minutes longer than it took him yesterday morning and nine minutes longer than the one before that.

There’s a dull, flat-sounding whump that is almost certainly Tim collapsing onto nearby couch.

Dick gives himself the space of two inhales before he puts aside the peppers he’d been chopping, wiping his hands on a nearby towel.

The area just outside of the kitchen is a moderately large, well-appointed living room. Couches form three sides of a square, with the fourth side being closed off by an unnecessarily large flatscreen.

As he approaches the nearest couch, he sees several of the throw pillows scattered across the floor. Peering over the back of it, he sees Tim lying prone with his face buried in a pillow. There’s a faint groaning sound coming from him.

“How did you sleep?” Dick asks, trying not to sound as hesitant as he feels.

Another groan.

“That well, huh?”

Tim shifts, flopping over onto his back with all the grace of a fish left on the shore. His eyes are still closed, and that makes it harder to ignore how the skin beneath them seems almost translucent, highlighting the veins in his lower eyelids.

“I’m not sure I did,” Tim mutters. “Not for lack of trying…”

His eyes blink open. Today they’re a deep, nearly-luminescent green. The color’s full in a way that the rest of Tim isn’t. Each day, his skin seems a little more pale and his cheeks seem a little more gaunt.

The urge to reach down and stroke the too-defined line of his cheekbone makes itself known in the back of Dick’s mind. But he quashes the thought before it can gain any traction.

“Do you want tea?” he asks. “Coffee? Something else?”

“Breakfast?” Tim asks, sounding hopeful.

“Sure. It’ll be a few minutes though.”

Right on cue, Tim’s stomach rumbles. He rests his hand on it delicately, his expression screwing up a bit.

“Did I hear a delivery person come by earlier?” he asks before Dick can voice the concern that he’s certain is bleeding through his expression.

“Uh, yeah. I sweet-talked Tam into having some more groceries put on the company’s discretionary spending budget.”

How, exactly, Tim heard that from upstairs is anyone’s guess. When Dick had checked in on him before coming down to the kitchen, he’d been sleeping so deeply that he seemed dead to the world.

“Anything good?” Tim asks him, looking hopeful.

“Depends on what you think is good. My current plan is making a mountain of bacon and maybe some toast.”

Tim’s hand finds the back of the couch, curling around it as his fingers dig in hard enough to look nearly bloodless. He uses that grip, plus a hand on the cushions beneath him, to push himself up until he’s sitting.

When he wobbles a little at the top of his arc, Dick puts a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

Tim narrows his eyes a bit, shaking off the assistance. Stubbornly, he starts to stand. A tremor runs through the muscles of his legs and back. He circles around the couch, walking to the kitchen. He even manages to make it most of the way there before his legs start to give out on him.

Dick rushes to catch him, getting an arm around his back and looping one of Tim’s over his shoulder. The maneuver thankfully keeps Tim from crumpling onto the floor. Its also ends with Tim pressed up against him, his hands flat on Dick’s chest.

His body trembles where it’s pressed against Dick. When he shifts, his breath is warm against Dick’s neck.

Dick’s skin tingles with the feeling of it. Even more so when he feels what might be Tim’s lips brush against him - before Tim is pulling back out of his arms, doing his best to stand on his own.

[happilychaengs]

Birthday Sunrise

a/n: first birthday fic i've done before. the poll ends in 6ish hours by the time i'm posting this so vote if you want. this wasn't all that spectacular but i wanted to post something or i might as well go back on break. but like jeongyeon's insta story with all these jihyo pics are a godsend

jihyo x gender neutral reader

fluff

word count: 770

-

"Don't you dare pull it out Jihyo."

"I'm going to do it."

"I swear to God, Jihyo..."

"I'm so close..."

"Don't do it... Wai- Fuck!"

You groaned as you took a quick sweep of the pile of Jenga blocks now scattered across your table before glaring at her. "Listen to me for once, Jihyo! This is why we always lose game nights." You mumbled under your breath as she shook her head and grouped all the blocks together.

"You realize... you're the only one who cares about that, right?"

You scoffs as she closes the box altogether, setting it down on the couch behind her, "Some competitive spirit never hurt anyone."

"Not until you decide to stay up until..." she pauses as she stares at the clock on the wall, "5:43 in the morning, to quote on quote 'work on your craft.'"

"Jenga is an art." You remark as your elbow lays on the table, your finger pointing directly at her. "You're either for it or against it and clearly you're... against it."

A yawn escapes her lips as her eyes get teary, "If that means I can get some shut eye, I'll gladly be against it."

You scoff at her as you put your hand over your chest dramatically, "How could you? I thought you were with me forever and always! You vowed to!"

Her eyes widen as she starts rattling on and on. Her vows were to be taken seriously. "Right... uh... yeah, I was just joking. Mhm." She nods as if to give herself reassurance that you didn't just hear the nonsense that just came out of her mouth.

You smile playfully at her as you finally figured out a way to get her to do practically anything for you after all these years together. She lets out a groan as she leans back onto your arms, her back aching from how long you two have been sitting.

"Seriously though, what's the plan here? Why did we stay up all night playing board games?"

A small pout evidently makes its way onto your lips as you tilt your head, "Do you hate spending time with me?"

"No... just curious. That's all."

"Well, because I know we both don't wake up early enough, I decided to keep us distracted for a while."

Her eyebrows creased curiously, "To do what exactly?"

She feels your warmth clasp around her arm as she feels you drag her outside, a small ladder to her right that she's never seen before leading to the roof. She chuckles, "What is this?"

"Come up with me, and you'll see."

She lets go of your arm and quickly climbs up the short ladder as you follow suit. And there she sees a small cotton blanket rested down on your roof, you stepping carefully around her and onto it as you plop down and pat the side that's empty. "Sit!"

And your childish like giddiness is so endearing to her as she sits down, her arms looping around your torso and her head resting on your shoulder. "What are we really here for?"

"Sunrise." You let out in a soft whisper against her ear. You feel the warmth of her cheek against your body as she nuzzles deeper into the crook of your neck, her fingers intertwined with each other, pulling her closer to you.

And almost if on command, you see the yellow rays shine through the horizon, the moonlit black sky embracing a vibrant yellow, orange hue. You can hear a small gasp within earshot as you look towards her, her dewy eyes reflecting a beautiful color from the display in front of her.

The two of you stay there for a few minutes, admiring the sights you both have been watching before she speaks up in a whisper, "It's beautiful. This was worth it."

You hum in agreement as you continue staring. "Definitely." Her eyes meet yours again and you see her expression drop, her rolling her eyes and a scoff escaping her lips. "You're so corny."

You laugh as you pull her closer to you, much to her dismay, "What? I can't admire my own sunrise?"

You hear her fake gag as she looks back to the actual sunrise, distancing herself a little from you. "You're annoying."

"Don't you love me though? Your moonlight?" You nudge her shoulders as you laugh.

"You're pushing it." A smile almost escapes from her mouth but she doesn't let it.

You finally quiet down after what feels like hours of laughing at her before holding her closer again, "I'm sorry. Happy birthday my darling."

[scoopertrouper]

If you’re still taking Stancy prompts, Nancy wondering what Steve is up to while they keep their distance in s3 is always my jam. Love love love your Nancy and Steve.

my first prompt fill!

i have to be honest, i don’t know if this is really what you were looking for? like, i admit there’s altogether more jonathan than probably anyone wants to see. but alas, i banged this out in like four hours last night and this is where my brainworm took me. thanks for prompting!

also, if you want to get a more exact idea of the kind of headspace i was in writing this, you’ll just want to listen to tswift’s death by a thousand cuts on one long, endless loop.

2,200-ish words under the cut.

-*-*-*

the only thing we share [is this small town]

She sees him sometimes. 

Not on purpose. Definitely not on purpose, but Hawkins has a population smaller than the enrollments of some state colleges. It’s kind of inevitable that their paths will cross more than occasionally.

And it’s not that Nancy's avoiding him, exactly. It’s more that every time she gets a glance at him even in passing, it’s impossible not to recall the sad way he’d stared down at her the last time they’d really spoken to each other, resigned to an outcome she wasn’t even sure she herself had reconciled with yet.

It doesn’t make her feel good, and after the past year, she’s more than sick of seeking out reasons to feel bad. 

So she doesn’t avoid him, but she also doesn’t not hide behind aisles in Melvald’s when she sees him pass by. And if they happen to be walking along the same side of Main Street at the same time, it just so happens that she’ll remember several urgent reasons why she needs to cross the road right away.

But that’s not avoiding. It can’t be, because Nancy doesn’t avoid. She barrels, head on, right into even the most fraught situations, because at the end of the day she has nothing without her resolute confidence in the fact that she is right.

She is right, and nothing – not Department of Energy hacks, nor the assholes at the Hawkins Post who make a sport of changing up their sandwich orders and the way they take their coffee every other day (“See if you can solve this, Nancy Drew…”) – can shake that certainty.

(Except sometimes – sometimes/especially when she sees Steve – a creeping sense of wrong begins to slither its way in, wraps icy tendrils of doubt around her carefully guarded resolve and squeezes. Hard.

But before it can do too much damage, before it can cause the kinds of hairline fissures that turn into cracks that end in endless interdimensional bloodshed, she turns away. Takes Jonathan’s hand, and looks into his eyes, and remembers why they’re the only two people in the world who could possibly get each other. Even when she can’t understand why he hovers in uncomfortable silence while those dickheads laugh at her. Even when he doesn’t get why she just can’t stop pushing, because a job’s a job and maybe if she let up a little they wouldn’t laugh at her so much.

None of that matters, because she and Jonathan…they just make sense. The photographer and the journalist. Shared goals. Shared trauma. Right? Right. 

And so the ground steadies beneath her feet, and her breathing eases, and she sinks back into the safe surety of her belief.)

Most of the time, not-avoiding-Steve also facilitates not-thinking-about-Steve, which is easier now that he hasn’t been around town much lately. She’d heard via the grapevine – amid some derisive tittering that had irked her for reasons she preferred not to examine – that he’d gotten a job at the ice cream parlor at Starcourt, and that he wasn’t headed to college after the summer was over, because he didn’t get into a single school, can you believe it?

The guilt was suffocating. She puts it out of her mind.

So it’s a blessing in disguise that Jonathan’s aversion to crowds and hypercommercialism means that Nancy hasn’t spent as much time at Starcourt as she’d planned to once she heard they were putting in a Gap. Because less time at Starcourt meant less time not-avoiding Steve (and less time – and money – spent stress shopping).

In fact, Nancy’s been lured into such a false sense of security that she never sees the stupid commercial coming.

It’s evening, and still boiling outside, and she and Jonathan are languishing on his beat-up couch after a long day spent toiling in the darkroom (him) and chasing down a specific kind of pastrami on rye with grain mustard available only from the sole deli in Hawkins, which just happens to be about as far across town as you can get on foot (her, of course).

Nancy is the kind of mentally exhausted that means that while she’s valiantly trying to pay attention to CBS Evening News (she likes to flip back and forth between all the major network shows), she’s actually staring off into space as Dan Rather covers a TWA flight hijacking that she knows she should care more about.

The jingle of the commercial doesn’t even penetrate the fog until Jonathan scoffs.

“Christ,” he mumbles. “They’re still playing this shit on TV?”

“Huh?” Nancy grunts before she can stop herself, rousing from her stupor. (It’s only now that she realizes she’s been doodling daisies where she usually takes careful notes on each story’s lead-in.)

“The Starcourt commercial,” Jonathan says, nudging her with his shoulder. “It’s been open for, like, a month. When’re they gonna give it a rest?” 

“Oh.” Nancy gets with the program, and laughs perfunctorily at the cheesy stock footage that’s eaten more airtime over the past six months than she’d ever thought city council would have the budget for. (Huh. Maybe there’s a story there.) “I kind of forgot about it.”

“Maybe…we could check it out soon,” Jonathan says, eyeing her almost cautiously. “See if it’s as awful as it looks.”

Nancy does a double-take before she can stop herself.

“You said it’d take a literal alien invasion to get you to set foot inside that mall.” And with the bizarro turn their lives have taken over the past year, she can’t be entirely certain he’d been joking.

Jonathan shifts, and scratches the back of his head.

“Well – they do have a bookstore,” he says, defensive. “And, like, I know this internship hasn’t been what you were hoping, so it might be nice to –” His jaw drops before he can finish the thought. “Holy shit, is that Steve Harrington?”

Nancy’s head whips around so fast she almost hears a crack. And yeah, that is Steve Harrington. In vivid technicolor, standing behind a cash register next to a vaguely familiar-looking redhead with a tousled bob – Nancy’s pretty sure she’s seen her around school before.

She recognizes the discomfort in his face all too well – it had stared across the table at her every time she’d tried to quiz him on SAT vocabulary words last summer. 

Only then, he hadn’t been wearing a hideous polyester sailor costume.

“That’s new,” Jonathan says, the ill-disguised laughter in his voice so uncharacteristic that Nancy’s head whips back around again. She’s going to need a chiropractor by the time this commercial ends. “I guess we definitely gotta check out Starcourt now.”

She rolls her eyes, and relaxes the fist she’d clenched around her pencil during the seven seconds – max – that Steve had been on screen. Jonathan doesn’t seem to have noticed her tension, and she’s grateful.

“What’s so interesting about watching Steve scoop overpriced ice cream?” she deflects skeptically, sinking further into the couch, wincing as she hits a spring. Now Jonathan’s the one who double-takes.

“Um. Nancy. It’s King Steve.” She doesn’t love the way he says that. “Dressed like a stand-in for The Village People. Slinging banana splits. What isn’t interesting about that?”

“It’s just a job,” Nancy retorts, face heating. “D’you think it’s funny that I run around buying lunch and pouring coffee for a bunch of dipshits who wouldn’t know a good above-the-fold if it hit them with a two-by-four?”

“Of course not, Jesus!” Jonathan sputters helplessly, shoulders hiking up to his ears. “I just meant – I didn’t – of course I don’t think that’s funny.” His mouth flattens. “I think it’s really shitty. You’re right, I shouldn’t make fun of anyone’s job. We don’t have to go to Starcourt. I just thought it’d be something we could do together.”

He looks deflated, and all at once, Nancy feels like shit. Jonathan was so serious all the time, and usually she liked when he let that go a little bit and dropped his guard. But she’s ruined it by getting defensive, and she doesn't even totally understand why.

“No, I’m sorry,” she backtracks, grabbing his hand and linking their fingers. It’s warm, as familiar as her own at this point. “It’s just…been a shit day. I overreacted.” She just has to work harder. Make them see how serious she is about this. Make them see how good she is at this.

All at once, she’s acutely ashamed of how lax and distracted she’s been, scrawling stupid pictures all over her notepad when she should be working. Improving her craft. Showing everyone that she belongs in that newsroom. Showing them that she’s right.

In return, Jonathan’s smile is strained, but it seems genuine enough. He squeezes her hand, with a strength that still surprises her sometimes.

“Things’ll get better. You’ll see. You’re brilliant. They’ll figure it out. Eventually.” He ducks his head, then looks up again, a little more relaxed. “Speaking of ice cream…I think Mom brought some Rocky Road home last night. Two spoons?”

Nancy nods, accepting the peace offering for what it is (even though she prefers strawberry).

“Yeah…that sounds good.” He leaves to clatter around in the kitchen, and she turns back to the TV, suppressing the urge to chew on the end of her pencil (what serious journalist walks around with bit-up erasers?).

Against her will, Steve’s face plays on a rewind loop in her mind’s eye.

Maybe it was just her imagination, but he’d looked miserable, and she was pretty sure it wasn’t stage fright (he used to preen whenever the yearbook photographers were in his general vicinity. It was equal parts endearing and annoying).

Had he really not gotten into any colleges? (None of her business.) His dad probably hadn’t taken that well. (Really none of her business.) 

She should’ve tried to help him more, after the whole…incident. He’d been insanely concussed, and that couldn’t have helped with the whole college essays and applications thing. He’d already been having a hard enough time with it all.

But what could she have done? The thing with Jonathan had been so new, and every time she chanced a look at Steve, he was already staring back, hurt scrawled plainly all over his face.

It would be better now, though, right? A lot of time has passed. She’s firmly settled into her new relationship, and Steve is – Steve knows how to rebound. He’s always been good at that, on the court and in life.

Maybe she should go visit him. Not – not to laugh at him, but just to see how he’s doing.

Would that girl be there? The coworker? She’s cute, in a “probably listens to too much Depeche Mode” kind of way. So not Steve’s type. (Nancy, why would that matter?) 

But they had been standing kind of close in the commercial. Maybe they’re friends?

Nancy snorts. Steve didn’t have female friends, except for maybe Carol, and that was mostly vis a vis that shit-for-brains Tommy. In fact, after he cut the two of them out, Steve didn’t seem to have many real friends. Or any. At all. He’d focused all his attentions on Nancy.

She swallows past the tightness in her throat. Anyway. This girl. Definitely – definitely not a friend. Maybe a friendly coworker. Or…

Nancy glares at the whites of her knuckles. None of her business. 

It really isn’t. After all, she has Jonathan, and Steve has, well…whoever he wants, really. That’s never been an issue for him, not even after he’d been officially “dethroned”. Girls still lined up at his locker for crumbs of his attention, right smack dab where Nancy used to wait for him in between classes. She assumes that in that regard, not much has changed besides the venue.

In fact, she can see it pretty clearly: Steve, raking a hand through his thick hair every time a pretty girl happens to make her way into Scoops Ahoy. Drumming deft fingers against the glass of the freezer. Handing out free scoops of ice cream like they’re not gonna eventually come out of his check.

Suggesting that they stick around until he’s off-shift so they can catch a movie or – or – something else.

The pencil snaps. Startled, she stares down at her hand, where the two jagged pieces haphazardly dangle, connected by little more than a few bare slivers of wood. What the fuck?

She’s got pretty much no time to figure out what the hell just happened, though, because Jonathan picks that moment to come back into the living room, a carton with two spoons balanced in his grip.

“Sorry that took a sec,” he apologizes, and  Nancy shoves the pencil’s remains in between the couch cushions before he can notice. “Will left eggs in the pan again, and I told him he’s gotta wash them out, like, right away or it’s a pain in the ass to scrub them off later –”

“It’s okay,” Nancy cuts in, unsettled by the stinging in her palm as he flops back down beside her. Despite the heat, he curls an arm around her shoulders. It’s light, and wiry, and she tells herself she prefers it that way.

“Dan’s kind of boring tonight,” Jonathan tuts, leaning back. “Wanna see what Tom’s up to?”

Nancy nods, curling into his side and scooping a spoonful of ice cream out of the container crammed between them. It’s creamy, and deliciously sweet on her tongue.

It’s just right.

(It has to be.)

[morganwallenfs]

accidentally dating, chapter one

read the full story here ^^^^

below is chapter one!!!

pairing: anna-marie x morgan wallen

read chapter two on wattpad.....or right here

______________________________________________________________

"why are you acting surprised that i would cheat on you? i mean, you're always studying something and you never go out and have any fun. you never do anything i want to do because you're always too busy so i went out and found me a girl just as hot who does stuff with me. what's so weird about that?" 

a crazy thing to say to your girlfriend of a year, right? that's what she thought too.

and for a brief moment, that was the only thought that went through her mind. she stood in front of her soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend holding her phone out in front of her with a screenshot of him wearing one of his ugly flannel shirts with his arm draped around the shoulder of a blonde woman in a low cut top.

the worst part?

afterthought: the entire situation was a massive train-wreck and no word, not even "worst" could possibly describe this fact.

the blonde woman was one of her sorority sisters.

okay, so maybe not the earth-shattering revelation it once was to anna, but it definitely still stung.

which is why, half an hour later, anna sat with her college roommate and best friend, rachel, scheming. she came up with idea after idea on how to get revenge, albeit mostly unhinged and completely unrealistic.

every so often, she would burst out in tears as she processed the enormity of the night's events as she worked her way through her discovery, their conversation turned argument and the following confession of cheating on her now ex-boyfriend's part.

this led to a wave of anger washing over her and she was once again back to describing, in detail, how she planned for his truck to end up destroyed with the tires slashed carrie underwood-style.

rachel would occasionally reel her back in and ground her, telling her that she was too pretty for this and that she deserved so much better.

this would then loop the conversation back around to how anna planned to ruin his near future.

"how about...instead of cutting his dick off with a kitchen knife, you come with me to see florida georgia line in concert?" rachel questioned her from where she was sitting.

for the last few minutes, anna had been laying on the floor curled into the fetal position trying to relax her stiff body.

rachel was sitting in anna's bed, her legs criss-crossed on her plush, sage green comforter.

"what? i thought you were going with jason?" anna replied, sitting up on her elbows to stare at rachel.

months ago, rachel had scored two tickets to see country music superstar duo florida georgia line in the girls' college town of nashville, tennessee. but that wasn't the reason rachel had bought the tickets. she had eyes for the opening act: morgan wallen. the roommates had watched him audition on The Voice and rachel had rooted for him until he was eventually eliminated.

since then, rachel had been following his career because he was "downright sexy."

she had been planning to take her long-term boyfriend, jason and had been hyping this concert up since she purchased the tickets.

one would think that a little dignity would accompany attending a prim and proper four-year university but deep in her heart, rachel was resigned to the fact that she was just another sorority girl who would "absolutely die" to see her favorite singer in concert.

sure, attending college in nashville definitely had its perks and the unlimited country music was one of them. every friday night, barring work, testing and studying, rachel would grace broadway street and its glorious bars with her presence alongside anna.

but anna wasn't always like that. when she came to college as a freshman, she was strictly focused on studying as she worked towards her pre-medical biology degree.

but five semesters later, vanderbilt university saw her join a sorority and befriend her future roommate, rachel.

rachel's personality was the exact opposite of anna's and she only studied when she absolutely had to. fake id and all, rachel could be found at the bar before she'd ever be caught in the library.

and now the two meshed very well, with rachel being exactly the same and anna meeting her somewhere in the middle.

the pair had lived together for two years with no end in sight.

jason had always been around, and anna was actually quite fond of him. he treated rachel very well and she knew deep down they were going to end up getting married.

but numerous blind dates with jason's friends revealed two things: one, anna's love life was hopeless and two, all of jason's friends were idiots.

"i mean...i was going to take jason, but i feel like this is a best friend-mergency. i just know this will make you feel better. he'll understand. besides, morgan is a girls night." rachel nodded her head at her friend, silently promising it was okay for anna to agree to take jason's ticket.

"okay, if you're sure..." anna replied, still feeling the turmoil deep inside her.

[creampie-capital]

✦「Katsuki Bakugo x Reader」✦

ɴᴀᴍᴇ║ Katsuki Bakugo

ᴀɴɪᴍᴇ/ᴍᴀɴɢᴀ║ Boku no Hero Academia

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ║17,325

ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴘᴜʙʟɪꜱʜᴇᴅ║June 27th, 2017

ʀᴇᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ║Febuary 27, 2022

「ᴀꜰʟ」 𝟏𝟖+ 「ᴘᴡᴘ」 ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ━━━➤ 「ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇ ʙᴀʙʏ」

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

❝ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ.❞

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

This story deals intensely with grief and trauma. If you are unable to understand the complexity of those emotions, you shouldn't be here.

Don't be so hypocritical; the same thing the reader does are the same thing your favorite villain has committed.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

Do not steal, copy, or repost anywhere. My work is currently on both CREAMPIE_CAPITAL on wattpad and Imtropicalbaby on Quotev. If posted on another account or website, please report and notify me immediately.

Now onto the smut :)

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

"It's so loud!"

Your daughter's lips couldn't have been any wider. Her pudgy hands grasped yours firmly while she watched the Hero parade.

She rocked on the balls of her feet, her lily-hued skirt swishing past her frame. Nadine loved that skirt so much when you bought it for her most recent birthday, her eighth one.

The child proudly claimed that she looked like a princess and declared that her father was the dragon that protected her from all the 'nonsense extras.

Of course, she quickly followed after with her words by leaping onto your husband's back and tugging on his hair, almost reeling him up like a horse.

Let's just say some family heirlooms were broken and shattered that night.

Nadine tugged on your hand and pointed over at her 'uncle', Izuku. "Look! He looks so cool up there! Wasn't daddy supposed to meet us here to laugh at uncle!"

Before you could answer, you turned to a man who pushed you roughly, which yielded you to almost trip over if you didn't catch yourself.

You gave him a stank face, a sneer on your lips, and a glare in your sharp eyes. "Mom?" The eight-year-old called.

Taking a deep breath, you blew air out of your nose and turned back to your daughter. "It's because your dad's a grump."

"But he promised." She whined, her vermillion-hued optics staring up into yours. The only attribute she gained from her father other than a bit of his personality.

You kneeled down, thankful for the crowd that dispersed outwards, which gave you both more personal space.

"Well, your father said he was really tired and that he'll make it up two us."

What he really said was, 'I'm f*cking exhausted, so just let me sleep, or I'll make you just as drained.'

Of course, you knew he never gave empty threats, and since you didn't want to ruin your child's wish to go out at all, you left him alone in your bedroom.

That didn't mean you weren't upset about his answer. Yes, he had been working a lot lately, leaving early and coming home late.

Wickedness doesn't stop for anyone, so even on days off, he still had to work if a situation arose. Which meant Katsuki missed a lot of important days and broke a lot of his promises.

A lot of his promises to where they always became empty wishes.

You both had begged him to come to watch the parade, you even had something really important to inform him of, but he refused.

He'd rather sleep than at least keep one promise in god knows how long. Your husband definitely has some making-up to do.

Nadine huffed and swatted at her bangs, which were rather long. You reached out and felt her (h/c) bangs between your fingers.

"When we get home, we'll cut them, Okay?"

"Okay."

A smile graced your lips as you stood back to your feet and dusted your knees off. The parade continued, looping around the capital, so you at least noticed your husband's friends a few times.

It was coming to an end, the symphony at their climax that you could feel its lightness in your chest. Yea, you didn't just want to come because Nadine wanted to.

You closed your eyes while holding your daughter's hand tightly. The music, the cheers, and joyful cries fluttered through your head in an almost ethereal manner.

"Mom!"

Your (e/c) optics shot opened only for you to gasp at the sight. "Oh my god!"

The platforms the heroes were on had burst into flames and quickly spread across the streets. The lively symphony halted; festive cheers turned into horrified cries.

A vociferous explosion ran through the area; the buildings alongside the road broke from their formation and began to rain down on everyone below.

The lightness in your chest never left as the pleasure you felt before was replaced with terror. Swiftly you yanked Nadine into your chest, a chunk of the building landing in the spot your daughter was just standing in.

"Nadine, we-"

You were cut short when another explosion rang, the statue in the middle of where the parade was driving around combusted, erupting everything into flames.

It was as if the asphalt was soaked with fuel the way it burned so easily. It inched towards the two of you at a threatening rate.

The way your throat closed and sweat dripped down the back of your neck was a feeling like no other. Absolute terror dug its wicked claws into every nerve and punctured your heart with trepidation.

"Let's go!"

You finally found your voice when the screams of pain sounded as if they were on the heels of your feet. Your grip tightened on your daughter's hand as the two of you pushed through the ravaged crowd.

Nadine's smaller frame easily weaved through the smaller spaces between the massive wave of bodies. The eight-year-old lugged you along, using her quirk to blast through some rubble to leave an opening.

However, even with her power, it wasn't enough to rush you both forward, and the two of you were quickly separated.

"Nadine!"

Your scream was drowned out by all the others. People dressed eccentrically; recognizable figures rained down from above.

Some headed straight for the heroes, howling like rabid animals, while some entered the large crowd of civilians.

The absolute chaos of what was once a beautiful moment was horrifying. Civilians were being burned alive, the stench of scorching flesh almost causing you to gag.

Its putrid scent was enough to make you purge everything that was within your stomach if it wasn't for Nadine's scream breaking through the cries.

You may not have had powers like your husband and daughter, but the adrenaline coursing through your veins was enough for you to find some hidden strength.

The way you rushed forward knocked others over, some immediately becoming trapped underneath the other civilians that attempted to get away.

The guilt would have overtaken your mind, but you were far from sane thinking. Nadine...Where was Nadine? Where was your daughter?

"Mommy-Ack!"

"Nadine!"

Your voice cracked from your scream, scrapes, and cuts ripping ripped through the fabric of your clothing as you rushed through the burning rubble.

When you finally reached a small area by the blazing buildings, your daughter's figure was being held up in the air by a villain.

Before you could rush forward or even call out the girl's name, your arms were pinned behind your back. The back of your knees was kicked in, causing you to fall forward and hit the asphalt painfully.

"Look at what we have here! The hero's wife and kid!"

The man's guttural voice was clamorous, overtaking the chaos around your figures. "Let me go! I Swear I'll-"

One of the man's hands clasped over your mouth and forced your frame to face your child. She kicked and scratched her hands wildly. She even grasped the person's arms, but its thermal suit kept them protected from her premature blast.

Muffled curses could be heard from your covered mouth as you struggled to free yourself. The flames grew closer, so close that you could feel its tails flickering close to your body.

Suddenly those hands that held your frame down migrated to grasp your neck and squeeze. Pressure rushed through your head, and the force of the man's burly hands felt as if he were crushing the bones in your neck.

Your vision grew blurry through the tears from lack of air but even with your compromised sight, you could make out your daughter's struggling cease and her body appearing limp in the other person's hands.

The hands crushing your throat were removed which led to you violently coughing and inhaling the smoke and pollution.

The sole of his heavy shoes was placed on your left leg that was swiftly brought down upon your limb. You could almost hear the cracking of your bone but every nerve, the sense was shut off from your adrenaline.

You couldn't hear, feel, or even smell. You just felt heavy.

He did the same to your left knee, raising his heavy boot only to slam it down on your bone and obliterate it into pieces.

The person holding your daughter threw her body to the asphalt like she was trash before removing something from their pocket. It erupted in flames and was released onto your child's slumped body.

She burst into flames just as quickly as everything else had. You could see her mouth widening, the veins on her neck throbbing, but she didn't move.

It was as if she couldn't, like all her strength was drained and her limbs nonfunctional.

"Nadine!"

Your nails dug into the asphalt, dragging your body towards hers. The child vermillions optics looked up at yours, and you could see the absolute despair.

"Baby! Baby, no!" Your voice cracked as you removed your jacket and thrust it onto her frame, attempting to put out the lively flames.

You could barely even move, the adrenaline was starting to fade and the pain began to flush through your system.

"M-Mom..." Her voice was weak, so crackly that you almost didn't understand what she said. "It...h-hurts."

The tender skin of your palms was searing, the flesh almost dripping off your hand. Every single thing hurt, tears ran down your face and evaporated as soon as they trickled onto the girl's frame.

Flames licked at your skin, scorching through your clothes and burning other areas of your body.

"Nadine, no!"

Your voice was the loudest it had ever been, resonating through the whole area as whisp of translucent wind began rushing past your frames.

It circled the two of you in a whirlwind, taking in the flames that surrounded the streets. The wind moved so fast that all the oxygen suddenly vanished.

The fire on the girl's body was extinguished. However, you couldn't breathe. You choked, throat throbbing as your limbs refused to move.

Your vision began to falter, fading in and out while you fell onto your side by your daughter. The sensation of feeling anything was dissipating, the pain numbing into nothingness.

The last thing you could comprehend was the whirlwind slowly evaporating with the fire and bodies flooding toward your frames.

One of them surely had ash-blond hair and the same lively vermillion eyes as your daughter.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

Voices droned on, reverberating everywhere and disrupting you from your deep unconsciousness. That once generous numbness no longer protected you from the pain.

It flooded through your nerves, tingling, and throbbing on your hands, legs, and stomach. A groan sounded from your lips due to the discomfort.

Weakly, only your left eyelid opened as you were met with a dimly lit hospital room. It took more energy than it should have to look around.

The curtains were pulled over its wide windows and all the lights were shut off. Monitors next to you beeped rhythmically, echoing out in the enclosure that felt so cold.

Glancing down you observed the thick white cast around your left leg. It covered your foot and rose all the way up to your pelvis.

Your hands, they laid limply by your side, wrapped in stout cold wrapping that appeared like large unfitting gloves.

Light danced across your lap which compelled you to peek up from your hands. The door to your room was opened and in the doorway stood your husband.

His vermillion optics met your (e/c) ones and he immediately diverted his attention to the ground. It was too slow, like physical dread as he closed the door and made his way to your bed.

Katsuki reached the table next to you and grasped a pitcher of water. He raised it, it hovering over the surface before colliding with the table.

He released all the air from his lungs, his shoulders deflating while his jaw clenched. The man attempted it again, lifting the pitcher which seemed to weigh a ton, and pouring its contents into a glass cup.

Your husband turned to you and held the water just below your chapped lips.

"Here, you need to drink something."

His voice seemed dry as if he had no strength to even speak. As if he had torn the muscles in his throat and still forced the words out.

You didn't move or even attempt to drink, you just stared at his face. You wanted him to look at you but he refused to even let his gaze dance upon your face.

"Where's Nadine?"

Katsuki's voice may have been tense but yours was absolutely broken. Your voice was barely above a whisper but the way it sounded just felt so wrong.

The male didn't speak for a moment, keeping the glass by your lips before slowly retracting it and placing it on the table.

He reached for a chair and brought it to your bed with dreadfully slow movements. He set himself down and you watched as one of the strongest people you had ever known slumped over as if he had been beaten.

"Nadine-" Her beautiful name - the name you picked out almost immediately when you were informed of your pregnancy - made shivers run down your spine.

Katsuki opened his mouth to speak but no words left his cavern. His gaze was on his calloused hands, rough, coarse, and now damp with his tears that began to trickle down his face.

"She uh..." He took a deep breath, swallowing the cry that wanted to leave his lips. "Our daughter didn't make it."

Wetness could be felt on your face, cupping around your chin before dripping down onto your chest.

"And our son...He didn't make it either."

Your body was trembling as if you were cold. Your teeth chattered against each other as if you were freezing.

There were so many things you were feeling. All of them begging, scratching to rise out of your throat.

Eventually, they all clamored together until it was just a jumbled ball of emotions. Not a single one was dominant because, at the moment, all you felt was numb.

"(Y/n)?"

Slowly, almost with jerking movements, did your head move to face his. Finally, he was looking at you. But he was looking at you with her eyes.

Like poison, like deep-rooted hatred, venom left your lips in a frail yet harsh manner. "This is all your fault."

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

"(Y/n)...please." His voice was muffled by the door.

You didn't say anything; instead, you tugged the thick comforter over your head and pulled your body into a fetal position.

"Baby, come on. You need to eat."

Again no words left your lips. You just wanted him to leave you alone. That's all you wanted, was to be alone.

His fist knocked on the door, and although it was quiet, it still made something tick inside of you. Your hands flung the comforter off of your body before you reached for your cane.

You limped over to the door, the end of your rod pounding into the floor with great force. Yanking open the door and seeing the sight of your husband made a sneer grow on your lips.

"What do you want? What do you want from me!? Can't you just leave me alone to die!?"

It had been four months since the hero parade incident. You were only discharged a month ago due to how severe the burns were on your body.

Not to mention the surgery you had to undergo on your right eye. They had to remove your iris due to how burnt it was, which left you blind in one.

The cast was removed after two months, but the doctor revealed that you would no longer be able to walk normally. The way the villain broke your leg and knee left you with a permanent limp; you almost couldn't even walk if you weren't using a cane.

You were damaged, no longer able to bare any children. You were scarred, covered in burn marks almost everywhere. You were disabled, an entire limb broken and never to be fixed again.

"What I want... is for you to eat." Your husband stated, towering over your slouching figure. "You haven't been eating, and don't think I don't hear you f*cking retching it all up when you do eat."

Your eyes narrowed, the glare just as strong as the sneer that was on your lips. "I don't want to eat! I want my children back, but you won't let me go to them!"

Katsuki's chest halted, and he visibly stopped breathing. His hands that hung loosely by his sides clenched into fists.

"(Y/n)...you don't think I want them back too? It's all I can think about but starving myself...yourself, is not going to bring them back or you to them."

His voice was low, much more tender than what it usually is. One of his hands extended and reached upwards to your face.

"I miss her, (Y/n). I miss Nadine."

Something had snapped inside of you. Your chest that was building a ball of fury combusted outwards. Wind rushed past your frames, the furniture and decor beginning to rattle.

The explosive quirk hero glanced around before turning back to face you. "Hey, it's okay; I'm here. You can relax."

You didn't listen; instead, the wind encircled your husband's feet before flinging him away from you. His back made solid contact with the walls of your home before he fell down onto one knee.

"Relax?" You laughed for the first time in months, but it was not one of joy. "How can I when you killed my babies!? When you had to break another stupid little promise even though we begged you to come!?"

Another blast of wind shot forward at him, and he once again connected with the wall. He grunted, one of his eyes shutting from the impact.

"How can I...When my body wants to finally manifest its quirk...but only when my daughter is dying...? After my life is taken away from me! When I could have saved them if I had this thing before that happened?"

A whirlwind assembled at your husband's feet before it grew in size and surrounded his entire body. The wind was so strong, everything began to float in a circular motion around it.

"(Y/n), stop!"

Gradually the wind grew in strength, the walls trembling as the oxygen inside the whirlwind slowly began to dissipate.

The man inhaled deeply, grasping his throat as he wheezed out. You stared at him with a blank expression, not a single thing inside of you feeling remorseful.

He deserved this...He deserved this...He deserved this

Abruptly multiple explosions rang in the air, the sound startling you, which caused your whirlwind to disappear.

It reminded you of the parade, of when the act occurred out of nowhere. You can't handle the sound! You can't handle the sight! 

Fire - It was nothing but death, a destroyer of all...and it scared you so much.

The ash-blond inhaled deeply, massaging his throat before slowly training his attention to you. His boots made heavy contact with the ground as he made his way back to your frame.

Your eyes widened and you could feel your heart thumping irregularly from his rapid movement. You expected his hand to come down but instead, he wrapped them around your frame.

He pushed your body against his, hiding his face in your neck as he sniffled. It had been a few months since you let him get so close, you usually refused to even be in his presence.

"It's okay." His voice sounded as if he were to cry. "I'm not mad."

He sucked in a shaky breath with his thumbs caressing your back. "I know it hurts. I know I can't do anything about it so just take your anger out on me."

You stared blankly at the dark ceiling of your room before allowing your cane to fall to the floor and reaching your arms around his.

Your fingers gripped onto the back of his shirt by his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin and drawing blood.

"I'm sorry, (Y/n)."

Tears fell from your fame, dampening your skin as your vision blurred.

With a quiet voice, you spoke to him. "I hate you."

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

"Why did you do it!?"

You glanced up from the book in your hands and tilted your head to the side. "What? What are you talking about?" You quired.

Your husband stepped forward into your room and threw his phone onto the bed next to your frame. You glanced at it, your lips pursing before you looked back up at the man.

"You think I did it?" A laugh reverberated from your lips as you turned to face your book. "I'm half blind and disabled in one leg. How could I ever kill more than fifty people?"

"(Y/n), they all suffocated to death last night. No foul play was found and no signs of a struggle." He pressed.

A giggle, soft and short echoed into the room. "Whoever did it must have been pretty mad, don't ya think?"

Katsuki stepped forward and knocked the book out of your hand, the hardcover book banging into the wall and falling on open pages.

"Two heroes." He spat, his brows furrowed with his vermillion optics staring at you intensely.

"You killed - slaughtered - fifty villains from that militia organization, and if that wasn't enough, you murdered two heroes the same night!"

You waved your hand dismissively, the scarring from your burn visible for a moment before you clasped your hands together on your lap.

"So what?" You sought. "They were getting in my way."

Your words had your husband stunned. His mouth fell open, and his eyes enlarged. He took a step back, hands frigid by his side before one flew up to cover his face.

"I can't...You can't...(Y/n), what the h*ll!?" He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "I don't even know who you are anymore."

A smile formed on your lips, wide and nearly sinister. "It's okay, Katsuki. I'm still your wife...well, at least until one of us dies."

The man's hand fell from his face, his expression one of disbelief before he pivoted on the balls of his feet and swiftly left the room.

The door was slammed shut loudly, the force prompting it to rattle against its hinges.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

"I'm giving you a choice. Either kill me right now and save hundreds of lives or-" You wagged a finger teasingly as the cool air from the night rushed past your frames.

"-let me live and find bodies after bodies every day. A villain, a civilian, or a hero? Everybody is fair game."

His face was pained, brows creased, and eyes scrunching tightly.

"You think I can f*cking kill my wife?" He asked atop the factory, standing only a meter or two away from your frame.

Months have passed since your first act of revenge, yet it didn't just stop there. You just couldn't stop.

"Why not?" You challenged almost in a childlike manner. "You killed your daughter and unborn son."

"(Y/n), please..." He begged, hands turning into fists by his side. "I didn't know that was going to happen."

You shrugged your shoulders and lightly tapped your cane on the rooftop. "You made a promise to come with us. You said you weren't going to break this one. It doesn't matter if you didn't know. If you just would have come...you could have protected us, just like you said in your vows."

Gradually, you lifted your hand out and turned it over, so your scarred palm faced the sky. The wind rushed together and formed a ball of a visible white whisp.

"I would have never manifested this dangerous quirk, and I was quite content being a quirkless piece of sh*t too."

You laughed to yourself, your gaze on the ball of whisp that fluctuated between a white hue and translucent.

"I never wanted one anyway since I had you. I didn't need a quirk when I married someone I thought could protect me."

Your husband inhaled a shaky breath, his fingers clenched by his side, and he stepped forward slightly. "I am so sorry for what happened, but blaming it all on me wasn't fair. Nadine was my daughter too, and I am just as devasted as you." He declared.

Your smile sank.

"I had to go back to work every day, and it was as if I could hear her speaking to me again, cheering me on. Everyone gave me their half-a**ed sorry's and looked at me with...Dammit, (Y/n)! It wasn't fair that the world just kept moving on while we mourned!"

The wind dissipated from your hand as you gradually returned your attention back to the ash-blond hero. Your expression was unreadable, stoic, as if it looked like you were contemplating something.

It was a minute or two before you inhaled deeply and tapped your black cane on the rooftop. "You'll never understand the pain of a mother losing her children." You informed him.

Katsuki inched a step closer; his expression would have been just as unreadable if it wasn't for his knitted eyebrows.

"No, I never will. But I know the pain of a father losing his kids and a husband losing his wife."

His words made your heart pulse laboriously; that rapidly growing guilt you tried so hard to suppress was filling your stomach heavily.

And then he spoke again.

"I didn't just f*cking lose my daughter and my son in that attack, (Y/n)." He stepped forward too. "I lost the most loving, brilliant wife anyone could have. And instead of working through it together, you just pushed me away."

By now, he was standing in front of your slouching figure. "I'm hurting too, (Y/n). The guilt of not being there has never left, and I couldn't forgive myself for breaking our promise like that."

The hero slowly grasped your hand that once wore a wedding ring and brought it to his lips. He connected them to your knuckles and shut his eyes.

Deep down, you knew it wasn't his fault. It wasn't anyone but the villains who attacked that day. Katsuki was the best husband and father anyone could be. He would sacrifice anything for his family.

But on that day, your children were not the only ones that parted. Something inside of you just broke, all the love, joy, and happiness; it all just left you.

Everything didn't feel empty, it was all just filled with fury, pain. You couldn't look at things the same, you couldn't love your husband the same as before.

There was no room for it anyway, all there was room for was continuing the cycle of death. Everybody needed to know it. Nobody deserves to live while your daughter lay six feet under.

"I can't help but hate you." The words fell from your lips like a whisper in the wind causing your husband to slowly open his eyes to reveal his vermillion optics.

He lowered your hand gently to your side before raising his once again to caress your cheek. It had been a long time since he had felt your face, you wouldn't let him before.

"I know." His thumb ran over your bottom lip. "Yet I can't help but love you still."

You could feel the tears well up in your eyes, your vision blurring as his figure narrowly distorted. Sometimes he really did have a way with words.

"I miss you...so much, Katsuki." You hadn't said his name in months.

The hero leaned forward, his lips connecting with your forehead to place a lingering kiss. To his surprise, he found your arms banding around his frame and leaning on him for support.

His lips could be felt growing on your skin.

"I miss you so much too. And I would do anything to help you get better. Anything to get my wife back."

You didn't realize you were crying until his shirt felt damp against your face. There were many reasons you married this man, and his nature of not giving up was one of them.

"I can't go back." The words were muffled against his chest. "I've killed too many people, innocence included. All I want to do is bring pain upon others, it's the only that helps."

His hold grew tighter and you could feel his torso shake from his deep exhalation. "It doesn't have to be." Katsuki's head dropped to be in the crook of your neck. "I can help you...if you would stop pushing me away and just let me in."

Nobody spoke after his words; it felt as if both of you couldn't. The embrace was tight, secure as if the two of you were too afraid to let go.

The wind was rushing past your frames atop the towering factory building. You planned for a confrontation after he caught you on a manhunt, but instead, he stopped you with his words.

With hesitant hands, you gripped the side of his waist. "There is only one thing...and I beg of you to do it."

The adult's grip tightened on your body, squeezing you so firmly against himself. "Anything."

"Please kill me. Please, finally, just let me die."

You could feel his chest halt its movement, his breathing ceasing as if he couldn't believe what you had just said to him.

"(Y/n)." His voice sounded so broken saying your name. He pulled back so he could look down at your face with the moon casting its glow on your skin.

"You know I can't do that. I can't kill the woman I love; you're all I have."

Glancing up at his face you could only take a deep breath and nod your head. You removed your arms from his body and strode back to gain distance.

"I see." The words were dry. "Then I expect our paths to cross again in the future, and when it does, I hope you save me this time."

You trekked backward, stopping once you reached the edge where your heels sat on nothing but air.

"(Y/n)-" He never got to finish his sentence as you let your body lean back and fall off the rooftop. The male had never moved so fast as he ran to the edge only to see you hover just a few feet below, multiple translucent wisps of wind surrounding your feet.

"I promise you one thing!" You exclaimed over the swishing winds of your quirk, and a genuine smile formed on your lips. "I will not die unless it's by your hands, so I'll wait until you're ready!"

You rose higher in the air, this time towering over him as you leaned forward and connected your lips on his cheek.

"Stay alive. Live healthily, take care of yourself, and do what you believe is right. I'll be waiting to be reunited with our children, Katuski. I'll be waiting until the day you let me die too."

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

"Madam, your face is leaking again."

You blinked; your vision that once played the past now returned to normal and depicted the sunset that cast a golden glow on everything.

Staring at it a little longer, you could feel the fresh air entering your scarred lungs, tasting like earth too. You lay on the pool lounge a little longer before slowly sitting up.

Your body felt as if you hadn't moved it in years, so sluggish and heavy. Your head pulsated, throbbing with a headache that had been lasting weeks.

You had to close your eyes from the blasphemes pounding as you swung your legs around and placed your feet upon the warm tile of your sun terrace.

This always happened when you had moments to just think, you would remember the past all those years ago.

It made you waste a good day not swimming in your lido, the open-air pool that was situated in the back above the hill of your home.

You slowly lifted a hand to your face and felt the wetness upon your cheek. "How vile." You muttered and smeared the fallen tears across your face. "My cane."

The young man complied, reaching for the black cane with a golden handle by his side and handing it to you. You took it with a heavy hand and hauled yourself up to your feet.

Your left leg had been feeling more like a dead weight than a still-working limb. No matter which doctor you threatened to fix it, there was nothing they could do for the growing crudity.

A groan left your lips, the headache only growing stronger now that you moved. You held your forehead with one hand and pressed your digits into your temple.

"Madam, are you alright? Do you need your pain relievers? Should I call for the doctor?"

"Shut up." You lamented under your breath and carefully removed your hand from your head. Esau stepped forward, his hands behind his back as he gazed down at you with his earthy brown optics.

"If you are feeling unwell, then I believe a check-up is in order." He remarked intently.

A frown etched its way onto your lips as you looked at the boy. "Didn't I say to shut up, or do you want to go through more training with Erskine?"

Esau had no reaction to your words, continuing to stare down at you blankly but unwavering. "You did but your health is more important to me than my punishment."

The frown shifted into a sneer.

Esau was once a boy living in the streets, fending for himself like a rabid starving animal. His clothes were nothing but dirty rags, his light brown skin was overlaid in dirt, and his grey hair was knotted in an unsightly manner.

He was only thirteen when you found him, but he had lived in those rotten slums for almost all his life. Because of it, his instincts were heightened, and his quirk was rather effective.

Fending for himself, doing whatever it took to live made him dangerous but also ignorant to others, especially when he targeted you in those streets.

He attempted to steal from you by mimicking the voice and appearance of your late daughter. And he almost got through to you but he was immediately surrounded by a whirlwind that began to deprive him of oxygen.

He reverted back to his original appearance and began to choke on the lack of air. You planned to kill him but when the boy looked at you not with desperate eyes, but a hungry ravenous gaze for life, you let him live.

You took him in, refining his quirks to work for your own selfish reasons. His ability to know of one's deepest love and mimic their exact appearance and voice was useful.

He didn't have a name so you gave him one. Esau, the brother betrayed by both his brother and mother in The Book of Genesis.

It was rather fitting, just like how the firstborn was swindled out of his birthright in the Hebrew Bible, the boy was swindled out of loving care by heroes who let a villain live, only for that villain to murder the boy's parents the same night.

You gave him everything he needed, shelter, food, clothes, and training, but never the one thing he wanted the most.

Your love.

After everything you had gone through, you were not able to provide another person with such a thing. Especially when he could never replace your two children in your broken heart

Five years had passed since you raised him to be a weapon, to be your eyes, your legs, and he doted on you more than anything.

He was cruel, apathetic to everybody, and held no second thoughts when killing a target. But when it came to you, he was vulnerable, desperate for any praise or ounce of affection.

You were his savior and in his eyes, a mother he only wished to make proud.

Esau did everything you ordered, train, kill, and now he was a young man. Built with muscles from Erskine's training but also scarred from your hands when he angered you.

No matter what abuse - verbal or physical - was handed to him he took it like a soldier. He never held any resentment towards you, he couldn't when he knew all you felt was sorrow.

He was obedient like a loyal dog and cared for your well-being more than his own.

"Call for the doctor and inform Erskine's that you will be doing endurance training after dinner for two weeks."

The male leaned forward, bowing his head adequately. "Of course, Madam. Thank you for complying with my wish."

You rolled your eyes and ambled back into your grand home, the cane pounding into the marble flooring loudly.

"It is only because I am in no mood to argue." You replied with the 'adoptive' boy trailing after you.

His lips were blessed with a rare smile on his usually stoic face. "I know."

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

"Esau, I want to talk to Nadine."

"Of course, Madam."

He inhaled deeply, gazing into your (e/c) and blind back optics. You watched from atop your bed as the male's tall stature shrunk to that of an eight-year-old.

His appearance changed to the exact characteristics of your daughter on her birthday, the same young and innocent gaze that was burned into your memory.

"Come here." You cooed and opened your arms widely. Esau, who now bore the appearance of Nadine Bakugo, climbed onto the mattress with small (s/c) colored hands.

He wasted no time plunking himself against your chest and feeling the warmth of your body against his. The pungent scent of alcohol wafted into his nose and burned the inside.

You didn't like to drink often, only on rare occasions, and when you did you would request the same thing every time.

To speak to Nadine.

Esau complied willingly, desperate to use his quirk to appease you. It was the only time you looked at him with such a loving gaze and actually held him in your arms.

It was the only time he could receive even the smallest amount of affection he'd been craving all his life. The adoration may have been superficial but it was enough for his starving heart.

"Mom-" You only allowed him to call you mom when he took the form of your daughter. "-can I have a kiss?"

A hum reverberated off of your chest as you slowly closed your eyes. The young man felt you shift, a hand brushing away his bangs and warm lips connecting with his forehead.

Heat exploded under his skin, his heart thumping audibly in his ears. The warm sensation of affection was so quaint, so rare, that every time he experienced the feeling, it was as if he were falling from a tall height.

His stomach flipped, chest expanding with wide amounts of air, and pressure building up in his head that all took his breath away.

Gradually the boy's eyes fell closed, opening every once in a while as he fought the sleep. But alas, the loving embrace of his mother was too much to fight, and he let himself fall into a deep unconsciousness.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

"Don't move."

You cocked your head to the side, your lips pursing while you gazed out at the night sky. A cluster of well-established heroes surrounded your frame behind you.

"You're under arrest, Breathtaker. We're taking you into custody."

Your fingers danced across the golden handle of your cane, tapping it lightly on the ground before gradually pivoting around in the graveyard.

"So rude, you all are~." You hummed, placing a singed hand on your hips. "A mother comes to mourn her departed child, and you all arrive to disturb her."

Your eyes narrowed at their frames, you even recognized a few. "And it's actually rather humiliating that you think you can stop me."

The wind rushed past your frames, circling everyone in a ball of a translucent whisp. What made you so treacherous - one of the most wanted villains - was how you didn't require your hands to utilize your quirk. You didn't need to chant or call out to it like others.

All you needed to do was just think about what you wanted the wind to execute, and it did it without fail.

"We know we can't," Izuku was the first one to speak which drove you to roll your eyes.

"But you won't hurt me."

The group dispersed and to your surprise your husband stepped forward out of the crowd, his stature taller, and broader than it was five years ago.

"Oh, using my old spouse to stop me? How cruel~!" You held out your wrist, leaning on the centerpiece to hold yourself up. "Finally, come to kill me?"

His gloved hands snatched your wrist roughly, your body nearly tumbling forward from your fragmented leg if it wasn't for Katsuki holding up your frame.

"No." His voice was gravelly, tone coarse and raspy. As if he had been downing liquids that caused him more harm than good. "You don't get to have what you want."

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

"This isn't a prison."

"Of course not." He sneered, hurling your body onto the couch that lay limp from all the bindings. "It took every f*cking connection I knew to keep you out. You're under my watch now."

A pout formed on your lips, your figure squirming from the awkward position of laying on your stomach with your head dangling off of the edge.

Your cane was tossed onto the ground by your frame while you heard the man's heavy boots distancing from the room.

Finally, managing to situate yourself in an upwards sitting position, your one functioning eye takes in the scenery before you.

After five years, Katsuki continued to live in the home you all once shared as a family. He did some work, and the broken walls and ripped furniture you once caused were restored.

He decorated the living room with objects of your favorite colors, and picture frames displaying your family years ago when you were all together.

The sight caused you to frown, a sensation in your stomach fluttering while the front of your head pulsated in a returning headache.

Your sight fell upon your bounded wrist, tracing the scars of your burned palms. "If you were going to keep me out of prison, we could have gone to my villa." You murmured.

There were no words that followed after your sentence, just the sound of running water from the bathroom sink.

A heavy sigh was exhaled from deep within your lungs. "Hey!" You called. "Used to be husband; I'm hungry!"

In response to your words, the door to the bathroom was bashed open with an audible bang, and his footsteps grew louder the closer he reached.

"Then starve."

You watched as the man you used to live with trekked past your frame in the living room and made his way to the bedroom.

Your blind eye was twitching from his words, and you almost found your wind swishing around in the space. "Why?" You whined, a voice in a child-like manner. "Didn't I teach you to be courteous to your guest?"

He didn't respond, and the lack of it had you groaning in your spot on the cushion. Your stomach was churning; your tongue began craving your chef's five-star platters.

You started to drift off in your thoughts, wondering if Esau was informed of your situation.

The young man was most likely enraged at your capture, unable to comprehend why you've let yourself be taken when you could have easily escaped.

It shouldn't be long until he finds your whereabouts, a few hours or so, if he completes his mission in a timely manner. In the meantime, you guess you'll just have to deal with your estranged husband for now.

Small veins on your forearm throbbed from the tight bindings on your wrist, your fingers twitching from the lack of adequate blood flow.

"You know binding me is pointless!" Your voice bellowed through the home, which was followed by an audible huff from you afterward. "I thought you only liked this in the bedroom!?"

"You little sh*t!" He spat from the room and traveled out to be in your view. He was changed from his hero costume into some civilians.

A simple pair of grey cargo pants and a white tank top covering his torso. One of his hands was scratching at his stomach; his top lifted slightly to reveal his thin, ash-blond happy trail.

"You're more annoying than I remember. Can't you just sit down and be quiet?" He huffed, striding into the kitchen.

"No." You snapped, leaning back into the couch and kicking your bound legs onto the coffee table. "I would be on a yacht right now, sipping some Domaine Leroy Chambertin Grand Cru while being fed from a golden platter."

The ash-blond didn't reply, keeping silent as you heard a pan connecting with the stove. Your left leg began to pulsate slightly, the tender bones in your knee and shin beginning to throb in discomfort.

It's been some time since you took your pain relievers, and the ache would only grow stronger from here on. You didn't bring any with you, considering the possibility of being captured didn't really ring in your head.

You'll just have to make do and deal with it until Esau arrives. A grunt left your lips whilst you shifted uncomfortably in your spot.

As the pain from your legs plagued your mind, it didn't help that the familiarity of your home caused an ache in your shrunken heart to grow sharp, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

It was hard to look around, every single thing in the living room replaying a memory of the happier times years ago.

How Katsuki has managed to live with these constant reminders is beyond you. He was always the one with a healthier mind, even being as arrogant as he is.

"You've done well." Your voice broke the silence and overtook the sound of butter sizzling in the pan. "Your name is always highly praised in the news."

The ash-blond didn't react for a moment, the sound of a wooden spoon scraping the skillet filling your ears.

"Of course it is." He sneered, which was followed by the fridge opening loudly. "I do my f*cking job."

Your left leg jerked against the bindings around your thighs and ankles, the throbbing sensation overtaking more of your nerves.

"Of course, after all, that's what I told you to do."

A plate collided on the kitchen counter so forcefully you were surprised it didn't shatter. "You didn't tell me sh*t but to kill you."

You shrugged your shoulders, staring at a blank part of the wall to keep your eyes from wandering. "I mean, I did tell you that too."

The hero grunted from the other room, his annoyance bringing about a smile on your lips from his reactions.

It really did use to be the other way around. His teasing remarks had you snapping back at him, threatening to make him sleep on the couch if he angered you any longer.

No matter how hard you try to forget you always remember the way he would snatch your wrist and pull you against his warm body. He would be laughing at your reactions but would always lean down to pepper your skin in kisses.

He loved you with every part of his being and at one point, you did too. Your tummy tingled from the memory, prompting a heavy sigh to echo out.

'Esau, you better arrive quickly or I'm breaking your legs again.'

The sweet aroma of a delicacy wafted into your nose, removing you from your thoughts and diverting your attention to the scent.

Katsuki waltzed out from the Kitchen and set a plate on your lap, a utensil slightly hanging off the edge. You glanced down, your throat tightening slightly from the sight.

"You would feed a criminal their favorite dish?" Your gaze followed the ash-blond who sat on the opposite couch, distancing himself from your figure. "My, you have grown soft. Isn't that right, Dynamight?"

His childish hero name left your lips in a taunting manner. The male's vermillion optics flung to your frame, his jaw clenching with veins arising on the back of his hands from a firm grip on the silverware.

"Keep running your mouth, (Y/n), and I'll make sure they send your a** to prison."

Your lips pursed. "Well, at least in prison, I don't have to eat with my wrist bound. I'm not some maniac, you know." You stated.

"No, you're a cold-blooded killer."

Grasping the utensil awkwardly with the bottom of your palms pressing into each other, you responded. "I prefer a heartbroken mother; oh wait!" You pointed the silverware at the male. "Do I even get to call myself a mother anymore? I don't have any children left!"

There was an obvious aura of tension that rang in the air. Katsuki's frame was unmoving in his seat, his chest barely even rising with his breathing.

It made you bite your bottom lips to suppress a laugh, but you couldn't help it. It bellowed out in the living room, your plate of food almost spilling over.

"Haha! Laugh Hero! I'm absolutely amusing!"

A bead of sweat dripped down the side of your face, your laughter masking the ache that drilled through your veins. The faux joy you were displaying was the best you could do to hide the discomfort, concealing how you were trembling from pain and not laughter.

The coffee table that was holding up your legs was swiftly kicked out from under you. It collided with the wall, an indent clearly visible in the creme-colored panel.

Your feet slammed into the ground, the force bringing about an intense throbbing sensation that had your eyes widening.

An ardent gasp resonated in your old home as you barely managed to save the plate from falling over and decorating the rug in its contents.

You could feel a sudden pressure in the inner corner of your eyes, your vision zoning in and out with the recognizable sensation of tears clouding your corneas.

Hands grasping your head and applying pressure was the best way you could describe how intense your headache felt. Their grip was unwavering and strength diabolical.

Your body was discernibly overwhelmed, visibly freezing in its spot and suspending its breathing. There wasn't anything you could do to hide your distress.

Katsuki's swallowed audibly and his steps could be heard nearing. Your blurry gaze was cast on the cushion next to you, unaware of his frame that stood right in front of you.

His hands grasped the plate to pull it away but your grip on it was far tighter than he thought. One hand dropped to hold your wrist so he could pry the dish away.

The wrangled skin of your palms became visible as he placed the food on a side table. His warm calloused hands touched your bare skin for the first time in years.

Your body betrayed you, yearning for more of the familiar touch. And it grew worse when he removed his grip from your wrist.

There was no use fighting your heavy eyelids that closed as your shoulders slid against the cushion until you were laying on your side, pulling your arms into your chest in a cradle position.

It was embarrassing, to appear even frailer and affected by your old injuries in front of the strong man you used to love.

The facade of a witty vengeful villain quickly dispersed like a burst of air. If it wasn't for the quirk you manifest there was no way you could have gotten away with what you've done.

Without it, you were just a deformed and disabled woman. Blind in one eye, scarred and mangled skin on your body, and a sporadic leg.

You really were pitiful.

"Here."

Through it all, you didn't even hear his returning footsteps. Your vision cleared with tears leaving the slick home of your eyes and trailing down the side of your face.

One of his fair-skinned hands was holding a glass of water. The ice waged war inside and clicked against the walls of the cup, fighting to float atop.

Condensation permitted minute water droplets to coat the outside of its clear surface.

The other hand cupped three various colored pills that you instinctively recognized.

A heavy breath left your lips, echoing out audibly.

"Giving me pills that are what, almost fives years old?" You sought, attempting to sound unaffected but the raspiness disallowed it.

Your lips pulled upwards into a smile that was woefully twitching. "Trying to poison me?"

His tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth as he forced the medicine into your hands. "Whenever they expired, I picked up a new prescription just in case-" His speech halted with a heavy exhalation taking the place of his remaining words. "...in case you ever came home."

The smile immediately fell like an angel plunging from grace. With lips parted, you were sure you must have looked ridiculously dumbfounded.

You were sure the only way to describe the sensation in your stomach was sinking, like a regretful action made by an arrogant captain.

Gingerly you parted your lips, tossing in the medicine halfheartedly as Katsuki's hand assisted in setting you up so you could drink.

The liquid chilled your tongue, cooling down your warm esophagus as it aided in the swallowing of your pills.

Its wintriness hastily overtook your brain in a shroud of numbness that disappeared just as brisk as it surfaced.

You didn't realize how thirsty you were until the male removed the glass and more than half of its contents were absent.

"Remember, you need to eat when you take those." His hands had ripped apart the bindings around your wrist with brute strength before he did the same with the ones around your ankles and thighs.

Blood flowed through your limbs, filling your veins with liquid life that it was being deprived of. You flexed your finger a few, a weightless sensation surrounding your hands and feet for a moment until it was felt as if they landed back on earth.

Weight was placed upon your lap, recognizing the hard circular bottom of the plate. The energy to snap and spit a crude remark was no more, and you ate obediently.

His vermillion optics dwelled on your frame; you could feel it. Every area his eyes stayed on seemed to burn like rays of the sun.

You wanted to say something, but thankfully, his footsteps faded into the kitchen, resigning you to dine in silence.

The throbbing in your knee and leg was still aching, only slowly decreasing in its potentness. Listening to the sound of running water from the sink you absentmindedly ate until there was nothing left.

When you placed the utensil on the dish, the sound alerted the male. "Done?" He quired over the water.

"Yeah."

The floor creaked as he neared, his cologne emanating into your nose and filling your lungs as he leaned over the back of the couch to reach your plate.

His fingers grazed over the curve of your thighs as he held it in the palm of his hands. Your eyes followed his movements until he returned to the kitchen.

"Do you still ice it?" He suddenly asked, which caused you to click your tongue in annoyance.

"Icing my broken bones?" You sought, your voice a pitch higher in a mocking manner. "What a medical breakthrough!"

"(Y/n)." His voice was firm and unwavering.

...

"Sometimes..."

He didn't reply, finishing the dishes as you mindlessly examined your hands. The freezer was opened, the suction of the rubber seal echoing in the rooms.

The hero returned shortly after with a clothed ice pack in his hands. His next movement was surprising, setting himself down on the cushion next to you and laying your legs across his lap.

"Hey!" You hissed, attempting to remove your limbs from atop his but found no strength to do so. "W-Who said you could do that!?"

He didn't even look up at you as he placed the frozen ice over your leg, prompting an immediate cry of shock from its frostiness.

"It would be best if you just kept your f*ckin' mouth shut." His tone of voice was surprisingly calm, and the aggression he usually exhibited was absent.

You didn't want to listen to him but the thought of arguing back in itself was already exhausting so you let him be.

The coolness of the ice and the numbing of the medicine was not so much an unpleasant feeling anymore.

Icing your leg would have been enough but your old spouse had other ideas. His firm hand that held nothing relaxed onto your shins/calves and began to massage them softly at first before growing in strength.

A heaviness weighed on your eyelids; the comforting hand that kneaded your muscles had relieved tension that had been building up for years.

Your back glided against the couch until you lay flatly on the cushion. It was a familiar feeling, something he used to do back when you lived together.

When your fragmented leg just pulsed like an aching heart, and there was nothing you could do to quell the pain. You didn't know what to do, and with every painful throb of your injuries, you grew more spiteful every day.

You wouldn't let him touch you for months, even if it was just to help steady your frame that could barely stand on your own two feet.

But one day, you sobbed heavily and wailed due to distress. There was no strength to fight or argue when he diligently grasped your fragmented leg and iced it whilst massaging it too.

It alleviated some of the pain, and you thought you'd only allow him to help that night. But soon, you had grown dependent on his familiar touch and relished in the firmness of his calloused hands.

Just as you were now.

Inhaling a shaky breath, you concealed your eyes behind your forearm.

"How do you do it?"

Katsuki glanced at your face, unable to assess your emotion from your unreadable expression. "Do what?" He responded with perplexity.

You pursed your lips curtly as you stared into the darkness. "I mean, how... how are you still able to live here? With all the memories and-and the reminders. I can barely even look at a picture..." Your voice cracked at the end, and you could feel the glossiness taking over your conjunctiva.

He didn't respond for a moment, the strength in his hands growing faint as he thought to himself.

"It's not easy." He mumbles after a moment of silence. "It hurts all the time, just a dull aching in my chest, but... I don't want to forget the memories of my family as if it never happened."

Gingerly you slid down your arm so you could glance at his face with your one working eye. He was facing across the room, his expression one of someone lost in their thoughts.

The two of you were once childhood sweethearts, so in love. So in love with just the concept of love.

Passion never dwindled between the two of you, and instead, it felt as if it burned brighter with every passing day.

And when you became pregnant with your first child...you remember feeling so stupid for fearing the worse from him.

He took care of you like a man utterly in love would, providing everything he could offer and then some more.

God(s), you had loved him so much that you could never keep your hands off him. Such a turn of events for you to become repulsed after the incident if he even so much as brushed against you.

Your chest ached just thinking about it.

"Do you..." You ceased your words, inhaling profoundly as you questioned yourself why do you even wish to speak. "Do you remember our first kiss?"

The hero huffed, brushing his fingertips just above your knee. "How could I not? You punched me in the jaw and then pulled me down to meet your lips."

A ghost of a smile flashed over your face. "I was frustrated that a narcissistic piece of sh*t made me fall so in love with him." You crooned, waving a finger in the air teasingly.

Katsuki shook his head at the memory, fighting the grin that wanted to plaster on his lips. "Nobody made you." He quipped.

"I know." Your gaze shifted to the ceiling; the ache and pain in your leg had dissipated into a slight numbness. "But something just pulled me into you-"

When you flickered your attention to the hero's face, his dazzling vermillion optics staring back at you had felt as if they had taken your breath away.

"-like it was meant to be..."

His gaze deemed intense, it made your stomach flutter with something you believed you could never attain again.

It was difficult to look at him but there was a sense of familiarity you couldn't help but miss.

"I should sock you in the jaw again right now." You mumbled, compelling the man to bite his lips to stifle his laughter.

"Way to go ruining a moment, I thought that was my job."

Your fist flew forward and connected with his shoulder, his firm body barely even flinching from your weak attempt. His muscles were much more conformed than you remembered.

He was always fit, working out and training, but it seemed that he must have kicked it up a notch. Katsuki's body wasn't burly or extremely wide like a weightlifter; instead, everything was more defined and solid.

"Have you moved on?" You suddenly piped up; your gaze shifted to connect with your ex-spouses.

One of his ash-blond brows rose as his massaging hand grew in strength. "Hmm, once." He mumbled under his breath, breaking the intense eye contact to gaze at your leg.

"Well, what happened? I'm ever so curious, you know."

The hero inhaled deeply, his chest expanding whilst his neck muscles flexed. He appeared to be deep in thought, picking at the words carefully before speaking.

"Couldn't look at her face without seeing your sh*tty one...I would catch myself almost calling her your name nearly every time. It didn't last long for obvious reasons." The hero expressed with a gravelly tone.

You hummed at his words and shifted your body so you could be sitting up, your hands supporting yourself on the cushion. "You could have had a new family if you just worked through it. I know you could have done it."

Katsuki huffed aloud and ceased his movements on your leg. His head inclined downwards to face you whilst his jaw clenched. "I don't want a f*cking new family, (Y/n). I was going to wait for you to come back, no matter how long it was gonna f*cking take."

You swallowed thickly, your stomach fluttering for a moment until you scowled at the sensation. It made your throat desire to tighten, and your eyes glaze over with overwhelming emotions.

"What If I never was going to return?" You sought in a low voice. Your head slumped over as you shielded your eyes.

"Then I guess I would have been waiting forever." He responded breathlessly.

Your jaw clenched with teeth grinding against each other. You don't know why his words angered you, why it left your body yearning just to hold him in your arms.

To comfort you like he's done before.

Grasping a pillow behind your frame, you slammed it against his face and used his moment of hesitation to remove your legs from his lap.

You scrambled away, tripping over your fragmented leg as you utilized the tables and other couch to assist in your movement.

"Stop it!" The words were loud and clamorous with a skinny trail of tears flowing down your left eye. "I hate you! I'll always hate you! I became what I am today because of you! I was left to watch my daughter perish before my eyes and feel my own unborn son wither away inside!"

The cool wind began to swirl and wail in the living room, your hair dancing in its path with furniture beginning to tremble.

Katsuki slowly stood to his feet before he began to make his way to your frame. His face was unreadable, his expression dreary with his hands clenched by his side.

The closer he grew the more your wind picked up, your heart beating in your ears with your throat clenching.

"Stay away from me!"

He easily dodged a blast of wind that sent the couch the two of you were once resting on to now collide with the wall.

The hero suddenly ambled towards you with quickened footsteps that had your flight or fight reflex activated.

You were scared. Terrified of his actions in your vulnerable state.

His calloused hands rose in the air, and you braced yourself for some sort of impact, but it never came. Instead, he held your face in his rough palms and connected his lips with yours.

Those familiar warm lips had everything inside of you fluttering.

You wanted to pull away, to just f*cking hurt him, but you couldn't. Rather, your hands grasped his shoulders whilst you kissed back instead.

It was heated, the two of you kissing in a desperate but enraged manner. It was an action that was long overdue but was laced with bouts of fury.

"I hate you." You would huff every time you needed to pull away for air.

"I love you." Was what he would respond when he forced himself to breathe when all he wanted to do was stay connected to you.

Your weight leaned on his body, and the heat of his skin wafted onto yours and warmed your frigid insides.

"Stop touching me." You ordered under your breath when he pulled away and established his place along your neck.

"Then stop holding me." He retorted just as breathlessly.

You didn't realize your hands were grasping onto his body frantically as if you would let go and he would disappear.

Not finding the strength to respond, you remained silent; your ex-spouse's hands reached down to your thighs and hauled your body upwards.

He wrapped your legs around his waist and ambled away out of the living room. His action left you hazy, your mind was fuzzy from his touch, and your tummy was tingling.

The hero's mouth sucked and nipped at the exposed flesh on your neck, the throbbing sensation immediately shooting down to your cl*t.

Your puffs came out long and breathless, the sensation something you hadn't received in so long. The pads of his fingers pressed into the flesh of your thighs whilst the front of his pants began to bulge against your crotch.

Placing your lips against his ear, you lightly grazed your teeth on his lobe. "Getting hard just from kissing?" You taunted, the corner of your lips quirking into a grin.

His response was to grasp you by the waist and fling your body onto a soft surface. Your limbs flailed from the fall, but you quickly recognized the scenery.

The two of you were back in your bedroom; everything appeared to be the same as before, with no differences.

Your ex-spouse wasted no time taking a position above yours, his knees caging your legs whilst his hands slipped under your shirt.

The calloused pads of his fingers pushed your bra upwards and immediately latched themselves onto your nipples.

Your breath became stuck in your throat, the pinching on your body permitting your hips to jerk and jaw to clench.

"Your chest seems to say the same thing." He mocked, his usual cocky grin plastering on his face. "Hard and sensitive just from a little kiss?"

You scowled at him, your hands flying to grasp his wrist to pull him away, but he responded by tweaking your nipples.

The sensation had you bite your tongue to still a cry, but the male could tell by your sudden silence. He released his hold so he could grasp the ends of your long sleeve and pull it over your head.

His grin only grew when you rose your arms to assist him. You scrunched your nose in response and looked away, unable to maintain his smoldering gaze.

However, once your top was removed his breath became stuck in his throat. His vermillion optics narrowed down onto the golden ring attached to a chain around your neck.

He reached towards it with a shaky hand, entrapped by the sight of your wedding ring, the band that displayed to others that you were his wife.

"I thought..." His tongue lacked the strength to continue, his gaze stuck on the words inside the jewelry that he had carved.

My first love & my last

"I-I watched you throw the damn thing into the ocean!"

Your frowned, your hands reaching for his wrist to pull him away, but his strength far surpassed your own.

Huffing, you shifted your gaze to meet his, and the scowl immediately fell upon the sight of his glossy, vibrant, vermillion eyes.

The strongest man you had ever known...was brought to tears upon the sight of your wedding ring. Something so sentimental that you mocked him for when your marriage became sour.

At the time when you had launched the jewelry item into the water, you remember laughing at his expression of turmoil. Even as you declared your love for him to be nonexistent, he still maintained his response of waiting for you, no matter what.

"I faked it." You mumbled. "...I needed to try and move on, and so did you, but I couldn't let it go. It was the one thing that I couldn't get rid of."

The hero inhaled deeply as he slowly reached down and unclasped the necklace. He removed the cold golden band and gazed at it in the palm of his hand.

He swallowed thickly, his adam's apple bobbing before he cast his gaze back onto your face.

"You have never stopped being my wife in my eyes, (Y/n). I married you all those years ago to be there for you through anything. To help when you felt like the world was against you."

Katsuki reached for your left hand and gazed at your ring finger. "I'm sorry if I made it seem like you couldn't confide in me. I'm sorry for putting everything else above you and Nadine before it was too late..."

He rose your hand to his lips and pressed them against your skin. A skinny trail of liquid could be felt trickling onto your fingers.

"I failed as a husband and a father."

Your lips quivered from his words, emotions flooding your system like a dam bursting. You had to swallow down a sob as you reached for his other hand that held your ring.

Guilt entrapped your heart as you came face to face with your issues. You know it wasn't his fault; you know you can't blame him anymore. You've been telling yourself the same thing for years.

Sh*tty things happen to good people for no reason, and it's about working through it.

"Put it back on me." Katsuki's optics flickered open to meet your gaze. "Put the ring back on my finger, please..."

The man hesitated, his body stiff as he contemplated profoundly.

"Put the f*cking ring on my finger and f*ck me, or I'll just do it myself."

"Don't rush me, woman!"

You scrunched your nose in response. Katsuki placed a lingering kiss on your ring finger before carefully sliding on the gold band.

The cool metal was a familiar sensation that made your tummy swirl and tingle. The sight was a bit nostalgic, like the memory years ago when he first placed the engagement ring on your finger and now mashing together.

Flexing your hand, you glanced back at the male and cocked your head to the side on the mattress.

"I'm not gonna say I love you just because we reconciled; I still hate you." You stated, which yielded a minuscule smile to appear on the man's lips.

"I didn't expect you to." He hummed to himself while leaning forward. The hero pressed his lips against your stomach, littering your bare skin with wet kisses until he switched to sucking the soft flesh.

Katsuki's hands migrated to your back, his fingers unclipping your bra, and were quick to remove it from your torso.

You were bare; the moonlight peering in from the windows allowed for the man to view your the way your chest rose and fall with your ragged breathing.

A few patches of skin were scarred and gnarled from the fire all those years ago. Gingerly his hands traveled to the area on the side of your ribs and caressed the sensitive layer.

"Don't touch it." You ordered, your lips quivering in disgust as you grasped his wrist and attempted to pull him away.

He leaned upwards to gaze at your face; however, you refused to meet his eyes. His hold on your body grew tighter, your ribs pressing into his palms while he leaned forward.

You could hear his breathing grow closer as his lips lightly met your cheek. He continued his smooches down to your jawline...around the curve of your throat...his tongue sweeping against your bare collarbone before he reached back upwards and grasped your chin with his hands.

Slowly your glossy (e/c) optics met his, your one working eye taking in his moonlit appearance. "You are so pretty." He breathed as if he were in the presence of an immortal deity.

His face leaned downwards so he could place a single swift kiss on your lips. "And I love everything about you, marked or not."

The hero's words were snatching the air from within your lungs, forcing the inner corner of your eyes to burn with more tears fogging your eyes.

Your hands flew to shield your eyes from his probing gaze whilst a hiccup reverberated into the air. You felt so vulnerable and overwhelmed by the event taking place.

Years you had spent insulting your own self, disgusted by your appearance, revolted by your disabilities.

You've never allowed anyone to get close enough to sway you off your negative thoughts or appreciate your body.

Much less receiving attention from your estranged husband that always had a place in your shrunken heart, even if you always denied it.

You felt like a crybaby for the number of times you've wept this night. It was a weakness, a sore spot that you never wanted to acknowledge.

Distracted by your thoughts, you didn't even realize that your husband removed your shoes and was peeling down your pants.

"W-Wait!" You stuttered, your thighs clenching together in an attempt to stop his movements. "There's...There's more burn's on my legs."

He shook his head lightly, his ash-blond hair glimmering in the moonlight. "And? I love every part of it too."

Your lips pursed curtly as you stayed silent but slowly you relaxed your legs and allowed for your husband to remove your pants and undergarment.

The vulnerability only grew with your complete nudeness, everything on for show. He could see it all now, the small scarred and burn patches along your legs, the imperfections and indents in your left shin from your numerous surgeries.

Embarrassing it all was to appear damaged and wounded but the man above you didn't appear to think the same.

His breathing became audible, his hands gingerly dusting across your legs as if he couldn't believe you were real, as if you were a dream that had finally managed to come true.

Your tummy fluttered whilst your cl*t throbbed from his actions. The mound between your legs felt slick with arousal as your body yearned for sensations you hadn't felt in years.

Leisurely the hero's calloused fingers reached down to your left shin where he rose it off the soft mattress.

Just like how his lips met your neck and he kissed it with fervor, he did the same along the deep scars. He trailed his smooches all over so nothing was left untouched.

He admired your wounds while you were appalled by them.

How could this man love you so much? How could he still kiss you when you had blood on your hands, both innocent and villainous?

Katsuki should know how disgusting your body is, so why was he still able to touch you as if you weren't repulsive?

"Do you love me?" You questioned, barely able to speak with a voice.

The man's vermillion optics flickered up to meet your gaze as he placed one more kiss on the surgical scar under your knee.

"I love you like you love the stars." He murmured along your leg, his warm breath tickling your skin.

You didn't respond. Instead, you laid back silently and allowed him to continue. His warm wet kisses resumed their assault on your skin as he rose up your leg, advancing up your inner thighs that had you already trembling.

By the time he finally reached your c*nt, he could visibly see the strings of slicks attaching to your bottom.

Was it the fact that you hadn't been touched in years that left you so sensitive? Or maybe it was because your estranged husband dipped every kiss with passion, already well-versed in what made you quake and tremble?

It was embarrassing, but the man didn't tantalize or mock you for it; no he simply appeared as a starved beast.

"Pretty girl." He murmured lowly, his breathing hitting your sensitive c*nt which yielded a quick short inhale.

Katsuki gripped your thighs and separated them like smooth butter. Just as how he kissed every inch of your body, his lips smooched on the edges of your sl*ts.

You whimpered aloud, clenching over nothing and desiring for him to kiss that throbbing cl*t. It was as if your heartbeat fell down to the bud, pulsating for attention.

Too proud and stubborn to tell him what you wanted, you let his slow kisses and licks torture you until finally his lips wrapped around your cl*t and sucked.

"A-Ah~!" The wail was louder than you expected. Your cheeks burned in embarrassment whilst your hands flew down to his spiky hair.

You tangled your fingers within his locks and tugged, his lips forming into a coy grin against your skin.

The hero didn't convey any snarky remarks to your reaction. He removed his mouth around your cl*t so he could lick along your entrance that secreted your arousal.

Your slick was hot, practically burning against the flat pad of his tongue but he devoured it like liquor and craving more like an addict.

"F*ck!" You cursed under your breath as your husband greedily consumed your essence.

Sweat coated in your skin on the mattress, your hair stuck to your jaw, and your bruised neck.

His tongue was like heaven with the way passion jolted and spread up your abdomen and legs. You were consumed in a hazy lust, entrapped in intense eros that had your tongue lay heavy in your mouth.

Whatever was transpiring out his intimate licking and sucking was unknown to you. Katsuki knew such facts and used them to his advantage.

Two of his fingers prodded at your hole for a moment before pressing in and sliding inside until he was knuckle deep.

A gasp lay stuck in your throat, your hips bucking upwards with your heated walls clenching around his extremities.

The pressure of a part of himself penetrating into you had your stomach fluttering. Your toes curled, your lone thigh that he had released to enter you had slammed against his head.

He hummed at your reaction, his lidded gaze meeting yours for a moment as he observed the way you could barely even breathe properly.

It was as if his belly was not only becoming full with your juices, but also the sight of your debauched expression.

Words couldn't explain the way your abdomen tingled and spread throughout all of your veins. The tugging on his hair grew harsher the more the ache in your bellow grew.

His fingers felt more of your natural lubrication seeping out of your entrance, indicating to him your growing arousal. Clearly, you were enjoying it, especially with the way you sucked in your abdomen and squeezed around him.

In between licking your bundle of nerves, he placed kisses against your cl*t. His delicate plump lips apply a bit of pressure as he played around, tested spots inside that had you melting beneath him.

You wanted more, the sensation of reaching a peak so close but so far. Slowly you ground your hips up and down across his face, feeling a smirk on his lip.

Katsuki's long nimble fingers began to move, pulling out causing you to clench down even more on his extremities. You didn't want to release any of him at all, even if it was just his fingers.

The hero's fingers gradually began to thrust at a consistent pace. It was slow at first, allowing for him to feel the strength of your clenching velvety walls and witness the way you ground your hips harder for more stimulation.

He pulled back to swallow the slick that accumulated in his mouth before hollowing his cheeks again and swirling his tongue around your sensitive area. The pressure on those bundles of nerves had mewls leaving your lips and echoing all within your bedroom

The male observed your concupiscence-filled expression, watching with extreme interest as your lips stood agape and your eyes became glossy.

He could see your stomach rising and falling with every quick sharp breath you made. Suddenly he hummed, letting the vibrations stimulate the sensorial nerves.

It felt like a tingling sensation that was becoming almost too overwhelming. You tugged on his hair and swallowed whatever saliva was in your mouth strenuously.

Your husband gave your little cl*t another lick before his tongue dragged downwards, circling around slits before letting some of your liquids of arousal pool on his tongue just below your entrance. The action caused you to shudder and contract your stomach.

He wasn't even doing much but he had you dripping. The pace of his fingers was not even fast but he was pressing them against the sensitive areas inside your body.

You knew the man used to have you writhing, unable to walk for long periods of time but this...this was mindboggling. When did he get so skilled?

The mess couldn't have been any hotter for the hero. He pulled his tongue away only for a moment so he could kiss the slick, swallowing it with throaty gulps before returning back to your cl*t.

His plump lips pressed against it once again before he turned his head to the side and began to litter your thighs with kisses as well.

He made sure to pay extra attention to small burnt and scarred patches that yielded your limbs to tingle just as well.

Those wounds were so repulsive, you hated looking at them in the mirror but caressed them with his tender lips.

Katsuki began to suck on your soft supple skin, leaving behind red/purple bruises that stung with pain but tingled with pleasure.

All while at the same time he let the pace of his fingers increase and he brushed against sensitive spots inside.

There was this feeling in your lower abdomen, it was a pulsating sensation that was growing stronger by the second, alerting you of your nearing climax.

The ash-blonde could tell as well by the way you bucked your hips and moaned aloud. You were squeezing so tight around his fingers he knew that your body was approaching an org*sm.

His hand that had been holding your hips moved your left thigh where he was littering them love bites and he began to intimately trail the tips of his fingers against your sensitive skin.

Your thighs clamped tighter against his head as you squeezed your lower body around him. It was overwhelming with how good the man was doing and you hate to say, but damn, did you miss it.

Your throat was dry, your neck muscles hurt from the strain, and you felt exhausted. Your spine had a small divet in it, slightly arched and off the table.

Katsuki pulled back to look at his handiwork on your skin, a part of him enjoyed the sight of the marking he placed on your body. Something he had long overdue for years.

Teasingly slow he breathed in the scent of your arousal and lowered himself back on your sensitive nerves.

He hummed, grazing your cl*t slightly with his teeth before resuming to sucking it. He knew you were close, so close. Your body was notably heated against his face, burning with passion and desire the most out of anywhere in your body.

He hummed joyously and heaved a heavy sigh. "I've missed this taste."

Your hips bucked against his face, your fingers tugging harsher on his spiky hair. You were so close.

The feelings you were experiencing were indescribable. All you knew was that everything just felt so good but so overstimulated. You knew you were getting to end, right the edge of the cliff where you'd fall into a pool of blinding satisfaction.

And before you knew it your org*sm hit and flushed all through your body, surging through your bloodstream and pounding your head with bliss.

"A-Ah~! Sh*t!" Your voice was louder than it had before as you cried out.

Your stomach contracted, the abdominal muscles were tight from how much you sucked in your gut. You clenched as tightly as you could, squeezing his fingers so tight you thought you might break them.

Harshly your thighs clasped even more firmly against his head in a death hold that didn't look like it was going to loosen anytime soon.

With your spine arching from your climax, you lied your head back against the bed with your swollen lips parted. The sight itself was astounding for your husband.

The unadulterated ecstasy that displayed on your face was something the male just wish he could eat up. He couldn't have been any prouder of the fact that he had you in such a vulnerable state, shaking, barely even able to breathe because of the intense release he brought you to.

Katsuki leisurely lapped up the liquids of your climax, taking his time as he savored the taste and the texture of it against the soft pads of his tongue.

It had you shaking profoundly beneath him, twitching from your oversensitivity. Your eyes felt so heavy you could barely keep them open, fatigue took over all your limbs leaving you limp and quite feeble.

He pulled away slowly and kissed your cl*t as if it was a delicate flower. The action had you jolt in your spot and pull his head away from in between your legs.

His lips were a coy grin that dripped with your climax. The sight of it should have been embarrassing but there was just something about it that made your desire grow.

Releasing his hair you grasped the back of his neck and pulled him down to connect his lips with yours. You could taste yourself on his tongue that mixed with the taste of himself.

It was er*tic the way your naked sweaty body rested beneath him, greedily sucking on his tongue.

Your knee brushed against his crotch, the painful tent in his cargo pants so obviously in a desire to be plunged in your warmth.

He huffed in between the kiss with one of his hands grasping your cheek in his palms and pushing you deeper into the kiss.

So hungry, so ravenous the both of you were. It was beginning to turn animalistic with the way every thought dispersed from your heads and all there was left was the need to be conjoined.

Frantically the hero removed his wifebeater before doing the same with bottoms and boxers. He grasped your thighs so he could position himself between your legs and rested his heavy appendage on your tummy.

It went well past your navel with the tip dripping its pre-c*m onto your bruised torso.

Your fingers dragged down his firm chest, flicking over his nipple as he heaved a heavy sigh between the kiss.

"Think you can take me again?" He breathed, resting his forehead against yours with his thumb caressing your thighs.

You grinned at his words and wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, the skin already slick with sweat. "Unless you're going to take away the sight of my other eye then I think I can."

He laughed in his throat as he released one of your legs to angle his body back and press the tip of his swelling c*ck at your drenched hole.

"Trust me; I'm gonna make you see white." He hummed.

Katsuki flicked the thick heavy head of his c*ck against your cl*t before resuming its place back at your entrance.

His hips pushed forward slowly, easing into you graciously. With every inch he entered in, you could feel the stretch of your body sending jolts all throughout your nerves.

It had been so long since you've been filled with something so warm, so rigid with stimulating veins along its surface.

You pulled his face down into your chest, your legs squeezing around his hips as the both of you sucked in a heavy breath.

The warm tight sensation of your body squeezing, molding around him had his throat tightening and hands gripping onto your thighs firmly.

It was a moment where neither one of you spoke and instead relished in the sensation of finally being together after years of separation.

Something about it just felt so right.

His crotch met yours when his length sheathed its entire self deep inside. There was no space between your bodies, the both of your chests pressing against one another, hands gripping each other's body.

How was it that his hips haven't even begun rocking and the both of you were already out of breath?

Was this just l*st or love?

You didn't know; you didn't care.

The close proximity of your bodies had the room become a feverish sauna. It only aided in arousing you more.

He was so deep inside, kissing your cervix that he could be felt twitching against your velvety walls.

"What? You're gonna c*m already?" You jeered.

The ash-blond huffed and rose his head so he could meet your gaze with his vermillion optics. "I recover fast."

Before you could reply, the hero rocked his hips back, his c*ck slipping from your depths. He could feel the way with every inch that was removed; you tightened as if refusing to let him go.

Answering your body's plea, he rolled himself back in, the tip grazing against those sensorial spots deep and shallow inside.

You found your voice only for a moment to cry out desperately. Only incoherent words were able to leave your lips and reverberate into the room.

Your mouth felt dry, your mind blanked, and the heat of your body increased. You couldn't help but feel a little dizzy from it all.

An intense org*sm already had been flushed through your veins, and he was arousing another so quickly. Your tummy tingled at the feeling of being so full.

It was like eating a large meal that made your stomach feel heavy and tired. Such a remarkable sensation that you could never ever forget.

An arch formed in your spine while you gripped onto his shoulders for dear life, with nails threatening to draw blood.

A lusty shaky moan left your lips that was mixed with his low grunts and groans. Drool dribbled down the corner of your lips as your teeth drove against each other tightly.

His c*ck twitched inside, and if possible, it felt as if he grew a size bigger with the way it swelled. "A-Ah." It came out from you broken, high-pitched.

You clenched down securely, the little butterflies that were felt dancing around in your tummy intensified.

At first, you thought his fingers and tongue were mindboggling inside of you, but clearly, you were wrong.

You had forgotten what he felt like inside of you, and Katsuki Bakugo was going to make sure you never forget again.

Your head was thrown back against the bed, your body jolting in the intimate missionary position. Your hips bucked against him as your tense fingers hurt from how hard you gripped his body.

His hips jerked as he quickly gained momentum and rolled his hips continuously. Katsuki at first attempted to be much more tender and take his time but he too was losing himself in the heat of your body.

He was using every muscle of his body to penetrate you deeply and ripple pleasure through your veins.

The male was being clenched down by your inner walls, sucking him in even deeper. The head of his c*ck just briefly brushing against your cervix.

Your core that was clenching down on his member fitted tighter around him, allowing you to feel every thick vein that protruded against the skin of his c*ck.

You molded so tightly around him as if your body was trying to keep him inside as much as possible. You never wanted to let him go.

The pace of his delightfully rocking hips grew. Every time he rocked his hips forward he pressed the head of his c*ck harder against the entrance to your womb.

Your moans of pleasure grew louder from his actions, your own body writhing and crying out for more. The man could barely make out some of the mumblings he was hearing from you but there were some things he could make out.

He could hear clearly when you begged for more of him. He could hear just how good he was making you feel.

The force he used to rock his hips made your body bounce on the mattress.

Your eyes were rolling in the back of your head and a slight ringing appeared in your ears.

That memorable sensation in your lower abdomen returned. A tight pulsating feeling that could only mean one thing.

Your org*sm was arising, your abdomen clenching while you sucked in your stomach. The pressure of one of his hands pressing down on your tummy added an extra sense of pleasure.

Katsuki grunted aloud and doubled the pace of his thrust as every firm muscle of his tightened and flexed. His crotch met yours with a rhythmic clap as his c*ck began to pulsate at the entrance to your womb.

Your whole body was trembling as your climax grew closer and closer. Your peak was there at the edge. You could feel it once again, waiting to be released.

His rolling hips increased, sloppy but intense as he focused more on reaching deep and hitting your sensitive areas.

Your body that was already as tight as can be held even tighter onto him than before causing another low grunt to leave his lips.

"You take me so well, baby."

With the overwhelming amount of stimulation flooding through your body, the tight tingling sensation in your lower abdomen basically released.

You cursed under your breath, your words slurred and barely audible from biting into the covers. Your toes curled, your thighs pressing against his toned hips and squeezing him as tightly as you could.

He leaned forward for a moment to place a kiss on your marked ribs before doing the same on your swollen lips

"Squeeze me just like that." He hummed. "C*m so I can see your pretty face like before."

Every muscle in your body contracted with your body tensing up while you sucked in your stomach.

A second org*sm raked through your body, and the male couldn't believe how much tighter you could squeeze down on him as you came.

The liquids of your org*sm milked his c*ck, the presence of it being seen on his member every time he had pulled out.

You reached the very peak of your ecstasy as it burst and spread all throughout your body. Pleasure rushed throughout your veins like adrenaline would.

You saw white with your hearing suddenly zoning in and out, the only thing you could catch was the man's muffled grunts and groans in your ears.

"K-Katsuki!" You had called his name for the first time in years and it made all bit of control and constraint diminish from his body.

He was hitting the deepest areas of your body while the heat of his skin wafted off onto yours. His large hands held you so tight as he absolutely dominated your frame.

The creamy white liquid of your org*sm pooled around the base of his c*ck and spread across your folds that were already sopping wet.

As the ash-blond continued to thrust sloppily, the liquids of your arousal and climax smeared all over his crotch and dripped down your bottom cheeks.

Just having another intense climax not even a moment later had made everything extra sensitive. You quivered underneath, unable to hold back the deafening cries of pleasure.

Katsuki could feel you trembling underneath him and knew that it was the perfect time to let himself go.

And not even a moment later did the male suddenly feel that unbearably tight tingling sensation in his abdomen, signifying he reached the peak of his org*sm.

Ecstacy flowed through his veins as his member twitched within your walls. His pace slowed as he came, his c*ck spurting out thick hot jets of c*m that pooled within your womb.

He painted your insides white as he pressed his chest against your own and wrapped his arms around your torso. He pressed himself so hard against your frame it was as if he trying to connect your bodies together forever.

The sensation of his release spilling into you felt ever so warm, like a heating pad atop your abdomen where your womb was.

"F*ck baby, you're sucking me dry." His voice was right in your ear, the deep gutturalness of his tone rattling your bones.

He slowed his hips until he was unmoving and still inside of you. He pumped every bit of what he had inside and drove it as deep as he could inside your body.

You hummed softly, releasing his slightly bleeding shoulders whilst you swallowed the saliva in your mouth. It quenched the itchiness in the back of your throat and subdued the uncomfortableness.

Much like your husband's words from earlier that night, his c*ck swelled healthily inside again, and he was quick to switch you into a different position.

You stared at him with wide eyes that quickly fluttered shut with another thrust of his hips.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

The rising and falling of his bare chest were rhythmical, followings its own tune with every subconscious breath he took.

You don't know how long you've observed his peaceful frame, but you desired to memorize every single attribute that was visible.

The faint scent of his cologne wafted into your lungs which you greedily devoured like it was your last breath. With careful and cautious movements, you used the table next to the bed to stand on your feet.

You limped along the wall as you exited the bedroom and ambled weakly to the living room. Your thighs ached, and so did the back of your knees.

It was odd for your legs to hurt not of pain but fatigue, you kind of liked it.

The cool metal of your cane was a sensation you didn't realize you had missed until now. Using its stability to assist in your walking, you made your way to the patio doors where you opened it.

Stepping out into the backyard in the dead of night, cool wind brushed against your skin. Even with your clothes covering your body, goosebumps still rose across your limbs.

You tapped the cane lightly on the wooden porch before resting against the railing. Your thoughts began to swirl, as you remembered something.

How much longer was Esau going to be?

Even if you had somewhat reconciled with your husband, nothing was going to be the same anymore. You still held love for him within your shrunken heart, but it wasn't like it was before.

It just wasn't the same.

You couldn't kiss him without remembering how your lips spewed hate and war. You couldn't continue to touch him with your tainted hands of blood and crimes.

As ironic as it was, Katsuki was purer than you could ever be, and to even be around him felt wrong. He wasn't part of your world anymore and you could never be part of his.

You made it your life's goal to make everyone else feel your pain, whether it was them disabling too or killing them with no remorse.

How could you stay with Katsuki when he dedicated his life to arresting people like you?

A sigh left your lips, its noise becoming silenced by the howling wind. A creak immediately caught your attention which prompted you to angle your head back to see the source of the bluster.

The sight of his distinguishable ash-blond hair came into view, and you relaxed instantly. "You were snoring fairly loudly; I didn't think you would wake up so soon." You mused, turning the rest of your body, so your back rested against the railing.

Katsuki rolled his vermillion optics with amusement as he stepped forward to your body. His arms wrapped around your waist and held you close to his chest.

You could hear his steady heartbeat and the warmth of his body through your clothes. Your face fell upon the contact, your mind just thinking of how repulsive your body was compared to him.

In the midst of your l*stful and almost drunken haze, you didn't have the ability to stop his tender, intimate touches.

Your hands rested on his chest as you attempted to pull away. "Katsuki-" The rest of your words were replaced with a gasp.

A searing pain spread through your back, every nerve igniting on fire. You glanced down with jerking movements; the tip of something pointed peaked out scarcely from your chest.

The heat of your heavily bleeding wound was slowly starting to dissipate and replace with a numbing coldness.

A trail of the same metallic liquid trickled down from the corner of your lips. Glancing up with the same jerking movements, you gazed into the hero's glimmering vermillion optics.

"Ah." The sound was barely above the howling wind. "Thank you." You grinned at him so brilliantly it rivaled the stars. "Thank you so much for finally letting me go..."

With the last bit of energy you had, you closed your glossy (e/c) eyes and caressed his warm cheek one last time with your tainted hands.

Katsuki carefully lowered your body onto the wooden porch while removing the weapon he used to take away your miserable life.

He laid your arms across your chest, posing you like an angelic angel as his figure began to shimmer. Where you once thought stood your estranged husband now visibly revealed it was the body of another.

Of Esau.

His earthy brown optics gazed upon your face, a trail of blood following the path of his fingers before he stood to his feet.

Without even batting an eye, he twisted his torso to avoid a powerful blast that split a tree in two behind him.

Almost leisurely, he glanced up and met with the enranged face of the Hero Dynamight.

"You, what did you do to (Y/n)!?" He bellowed, hands flaring in color as he readied himself to attack again.

The young man simply directed his attention back down to your frame. "You weren't going to give her what she wanted, so I decided to do it for you." He replied cooly.

Katsuki shot his body forward, his palms blasting explosions. "That wasn't your f*cking decision to make!"

Esau elegantly twisted away with refined movements, and he held his hands out, one of them clutching your black cane.

"This was her wish, to be reunited with Nadine and Zahir by your own hands."

At that very moment, Katsuki Bakugo realized that he had once again lost his first and last love. Only this time, you wouldn't ever come back to him again.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

:)

[giggle-me-this]

Girls Go 💥 Boom 💥

@xiomarawinters @harrixtpinnock @ftbhedges

The nights after the Saint Ball went like this: Xiomara would come home from her day program, and go straight into the kitchen to scrounge together dinner for herself. She would eat it in the kitchen, with her back to the wall, and then she would smoke a cigarette out the back window, and then another. She’d go upstairs and take enough potions to knock out a troll, and then she’d crawl into bed until the dreamless sleep ripped her out of consciousness.

The days after the Saint Ball went like this: Nate would come home from work at 5am. Xi knew he was home when the loose floorboard in the hall creaked. That was her rousing alarm: Wake up, get dressed, tie her runners, go for a run. She went the long way around the house so that she didn’t need to pass Nate, who would be sinking in to sleep on the ratty couch. She would stand in the front garden, hopping back and forth and then stretching her legs out. Harriet would meet her, and then they would run.

Xiomara was working on her breathing during the morning’s run, timing her pace with the steady inhale and exhale that ought to keep her going. It irked her that the exercise seemed to come naturally to Harriet, who ran as if it were the simplest thing in the world. While Xi loved running, and reveled in the natural runner’s high that came with the itchy legs and aching sides and sweaty back after every occasion, she definitely had to work at it.

It sparked a natural competitiveness between the girls, and after months of the run being part of their morning routine, Xi was finally pushing Harriet to a pace where she actually had to… Try to stay ahead of her fictive sister-in-law.

Their run this morning was a steady-paced loop towards Hammersmith and back, the breeze from the Thames whipping across their faces in the icy air. Xi could see her breath in the air, she watched it as she timed her pace: In, step, step, out, step, step, in…

They turned right to run around a boat shed, ready to continue on their run, when a burst of red light shot across them. It narrowly missed Xiomara’s legs and instead left a scorching mark on the light wood of the shed. The girls barely had time to react before the stunning spell was shot again—then another.

Xiomara’s legs went wobbly from the sudden stop in her pace and she reached down with numb fingers to take her wand from its hidden hip holster. She was just raising her wand arm when there was a tight grip on her upper arm. She immediately pulled against it, twisting to get out of the assailant’s grasp, when a harsh voice said, “Thanks for the tip, sweetheart—consider your Pinnock contract fulfilled. You're off the hook—for now..."

Xiomara’s expression contorted, her mouth half-open for the split-second it took for her to process this. This was Hamilton. He’d come for Harriet. 

She bucked her head back, lurching her chest forward after she heard the back of her skull connect with his nose—which broke with a sickening snap. In the cacophony of spells shot across them, Xiomara could barely make out Harriet, who had responded in a smarter, less physical way, aiming her wand with pin-point precision and shifting her weight as if she’d been duelling for years. She couldn’t hear anything, save for the high-pitched ringing in her ears and the incantations shouted across them. But when Harriet reached her hand across in her direction, already turning her feet, ready to spin, Xiomara leapt across to her. No sooner had they touched fingertips, than Harriet was apparating them back to the safehouse.

The wards set off immediately, as they always did when wix apparated directly into the home rather than the garden. Xi clamped her hands down over her ears, wand still in her right hand, and was about to call out to Harriet about fixing the wards, when she turned and became aware of Harriet Pinnock’s wand, pointed right in her face.

“What the fuck was that, Winters?” Harriet yelled, stepping forward so the tip of her wand was practically burning a hole in the blonde’s cheek.

And Xiomara, who was so dependent on her routine, and potions, and safety, and quiet and calm and an uneventful morning run, shook her head earnestly, tears already gathered in her eyes. A voice, somewhere deep, whispered: You’ll. Explode. Xiomara whipped her head back and forth. No, no. No.

“No?” Harriet laughed harshly, “That all you can say? You fucking sold me out, Xi? Huh? And now you want to deny it? I don’t give a fuck who you are, if you think I’ll—”

Xiomara wouldn’t hear what Harriet would do. In fact, she barely managed to hold on long enough to hear Harriet’s first few comments before she lost herself. It was a rising heat that started low in her belly, then overcame her chest, her shoulders, down her arms, before Xiomara pulled her wand back and yelled, the force of her magic knocking them both away from each other and to the ground.

Xi fell into the back of the couch, and cried out, immediately feeling the crack at the back of her abdomen. Harriet must have landed somewhere less damaging, because Xi had barely managed to stand with the splitting pain that ran down her side, before the older girl sent a spell straight at her. There wasn't enough time to try to counter it, or even to duck out of the sizzling beam's path—but to Xiomara's surprise, when she instinctively raised up her arms to protect her face, the spell ricocheted in a shower of sparks against the translucent white-gold barrier of a shield. 

When she whipped her head around, she saw its caster: Nate, climbing over the back of the toppled couch, a scorch mark in the shape of a body burned into the upholstery where Xi had hit it. His hands were stretched out in a tut in front of him and he looked like he'd gotten about five minutes of sleep before being rudely thrown into consciousness.

"The fuck are you thinking, Harry?" Nate croaked irritably, his voice hoarse. The room had grown uncomfortably still and voyeuristic as hedges gathered along the edges of the room to see the commotion, to witness the fallout. Someone, at some point, had silenced the wards.

So it sliced through the room like an axe, the sound of Harriet Pinnock, who was never the loudest voice in a room, screaming at her brother and punctuating every word: "She SOLD ME OUT!" Her wand stayed trained on Xiomara in incrimination. 

Nate looked between Xi and Harriet, dumbfounded, refusing to believe it. He shook his head and debris fell from his mussed-up hair. "No, she didn't. You don't know what the fuck you're talking about—"

Harriet barked another humorless laugh. "Fucking open your eyes, Nate! She's been playing us into dad's hand from the start—"

"—Harriet," Nate snapped in warning.

"—Nate," she shot back, teeth bared, not budging. The siblings squared off for just a moment before Harriet gave a growl of frustration and lowered her left arm, the one holding her wand, and with her right hand she gestured at a spot on her inner forearm, just beneath the elbow. 

For some reason beyond the comprehension of everyone watching the argument, the cryptic signal from his sister caused Nate to stiffen suddenly. He held eye contact with Harriet, a silent conversation no one else was privy to, while his fingers grazed over a mirrored spot on his own arm. Nate had a small raised scar there, that much Xiomara did know from her own thorough cataloging of all the sensitive spots on Nate's body that she could touch to invoke a reaction.

Where the scar had come from, though, and what the fuck it meant to Nate and Harriet was beyond Xi—and she didn't have a chance to consider it any further before Nate was rounding on her and hissing in accusation, "What the fuck, Xi? You told him she's here?"

“You are just as guilty in this,” she snapped, before pressing her hands flat against the floor to steady herself while she stood. “You do this all the time, it doesn’t surprise me that your fucking sister is exactly the same.”

“Me?” Nate barked back with an incredulous laugh, and Harriet was aghast at being addressed only as his fucking sister. Nate tugged his hands through his hair, tightening and pulling. “Christ, what does that even fucking mean–”

“—I am not the only one who signed that contract, Nate! You know perfectly well what it says. What, you think it just went away?”

Nate scoffed, holding up the sigil on the back of his hand, which seemed to shimmer and gleam with sadistic glee, while he talked over her. “I’m well the fuck aware, Xi! In fact, I’d say you got off pretty fucking easy, getting high and drinking plum-fucking-wine while I was going through hell—”

“You have NO IDEA what I’ve been through!” The bursting abruptness of the way she shrieked it forced the argument’s momentum to a screeching, momentary halt. They were both breathing heavy and still heated as Nate held his tongue, waiting.

But instead of elaborating or explaining, instead of letting him in, Xi sniffed and took a breath. Cold and dismissive, she continued, “You don’t get to toss away your own guilt by making me out to be the bad guy…”

Nate threw his hands up, genuinely too stunned to know what to say. To break the silence, Ruma stepped forward, her brother anxiously hovering a hairline behind her. Ajai’s hand was half extended, itching to take her sister’s arm and transport them both the hell out of there. 

The therapist raised a hand, as if she were trying to soothe a frightened animal. It wasn’t the first time Xiomara had been treated like this. She remembered Nate approaching her in the Caves while she wailed. She remembered healers approaching her in Clearer Skies, talking her through each step they made. She remembered Isaac approaching her in the hotel bathroom.

Ruma opened her mouth to speak, and the French woman cut her off—

“Fuck off, Ruma. This has nothing to do with you,” Xi snarled, leaning forward. The move was enough to spook Ajai into action, the traveller’s fingertips barely grazing Ruma’s shoulder before both hedges disappeared.

“When you’re done being such an insufferable bitch, maybe you’ll wake up and realize not everything in the world revolves around you,” Nate sneered, and Xiomara scoffed.

“And that’s you, isn’t it? Great to hear from Mr. Benevolent himself…”

“Better that than a hypocrite and a fucking snitch—”

The two continued to bicker like that, a ping-pong game of back and forth that increased in intensity with each barb shot back to the other.

Neither seemed to notice how the walls began trembling, the floorboards and furniture creaking and quaking, the glass in the windows whining dangerously. It wasn't until he felt one particularly tumultuous shake of the safehouse foundations, jolting them all off balance, that Nate snapped out of his anger enough to glance around in alarm and become fully aware of the powder keg he'd put them in by provoking her.

"Xi—stop it…"

But Xiomara was beyond reasoning with, long past simmering and fast approaching boiling point. Heat was radiating off of her in waves as she sneered, "Or what? What are you going to do, hit me? Fuck me? You gonna drug me, Nate?"

Nate flinched, looking genuinely stricken by the blow and without a ready response to throw back. Everything held still for one tense moment that seemed to stretch on for hours.

Then someone—Harriet, maybe, Xi couldn't be sure—moved in Xi's peripheral vision, and she exploded.

She threw out her arms as a furious scream ripped its way out of her throat, and a ripple of scalding ambient energy burst outward from where she stood and knocked back everyone within a ten-foot radius—including Nate and Harriet.

Hedges were yelling—at her, at Nate, at each other, Xi really didn't give a fuck and couldn't comprehend any of it, anyway, over the roaring in her ears and the sound of plaster crashing down from the ceiling. Entire strips of the wall were searing and peeling off. Xi's vision was vibrating and blurring. YOU’LL. EXPLODE.

A sorrowful voice with a distinct Irish lilt managed to cut through the clamorous noise within Xiomara's head. This voice was not loud, but it was far too close as it said, "I'm real sorry 'bout this..."

Xi flung a hand back, throwing a wave of energy at the too-close intruder. But it didn't throw Oz like it had the others. 

In fact, the wiry hedge witch who normally moved his body with about as much balance and grace as a drunk toddler, uncannily braced himself against the torrent Xiomara sent at him from less than three feet away, such that the most it did was to blow his dark hair back like a warm breeze. Despite the commotion and the still-imminent peril, the Free Traders stopped what they were doing to face Oz and openly gape.

His face was filled with palpable regret as he opened up his tattooed palms on either side of his body, joints twitching as if he were gently caressing the air, assessing it. Then he arced them forward, tracing a circular shape with his right hand curving up and to the left while his left hand swept down and right. His wrists met in the center, palms thrust out toward Xi so that she could see the words inked there, fingers curved slightly as if waiting to catch a baseball.

And then she felt it—a draining, suctioning sensation of the torrential magic that was swirling around and within her, that had pressed up against her bones as it begged release from her body just moments ago. Now it was being siphoned out of her in a powerful rush, and seemingly funneled between Oz's open, waiting hands. His arms, his shoulders and back, trembled and strained as he took in the current. His spine curved forward as his body cowed into itself, but his feet stayed firmly planted on the ground, the sigils on his hands glowing brighter and brighter until he finally dropped his arms, panting with exertion. The house, though clearly battered, had stopped shaking.

"What the fuck. Did he just do?" Nate said from where he was propped against the broken banister of the stairs, wheezing like he’d had the air knocked out of him.

Oz's head swiveled toward Nate, his eyes glazed over, but he made no effort to respond. He didn't look like he could respond, swaying where he stood like the magic he'd just siphoned from Xiomara was whiskey. The air all around them felt thinner, too, like they were standing at the peak of a mountain and the oxygen was sparse. 

"Par off, blud," Rue growled at Nate with odd and unexpected protectiveness bolstering her tone, "He just saved all our fuckin' skins."

There wasn't a chance to question what the fuck had just happened. Xiomara's face was shining with sweat, and all at once she started shivering where she stood—her drastically overheated body reacting to the sudden, vacuumous removal of its power source.

Nate made a panicked lurch toward her, but it was Rue who got there first; in the secondmost baffling and unprecedented event that had occurred in the FTB safehouse within the last five minutes, Rue placed her hands on either side of Xi's convulsing frame, brow furrowed in concentration until the blonde stilled and her complexion returned to a normal shade.

Harriet hovered behind her brother, murmuring something to him so low that only he could hear. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, and an emotion that looked like genuine anguish washed over his face for just a moment before it was gone, and his hazel eyes hardened and shuttered. His voice only barely more audible than his twin, Nate said, “Xiomara…You need to leave. We have rules. You broke them.”

As weakened and drained as she felt, practically squashing Rue as she leaned on her for support, Xiomara shook her head. “No,” she replied, looking up at Nate past heavy eyelids.

An awkward beat, and then: “Well, you don’t get to—”

“—No, you don’t get to make me leave. This is my house as much as yours. I’m not just another hedge you can kick out on the street because they pissed you off,” she hissed, rocking back and forth as she disentangled herself from Rue. “You have no shortage of friends, and family, and money, and people that will tell you everything you want to hear. I have nothing except this house. You leave…” She cut a withering glare up to Harriet, and then spat, “...and you take her with you. We’re done.”