#literally had a white picket fence in the front

[guccigarantine]

im moving in a month and i found the most perfect and beautiful house to rent and was fully ready to move in right now AND THEYRE SELLING IT INSTEAD OF RENTING NOW

[callmelola111]

my summer of you ♡ part one

✄ - - - -   part 1 , part 2   - - - -   inspo track ⭑ till there was you

synopsis: being sent to your grandparents for the summer was supposed to be a punishment, but when you came face-to-face with your neighbor, you knew it’d be quite the opposite.

      | 𓆣 | pairing & wc: loser!ellie williams x neighbor!reader. wc: 4k

      | ❀ | cw (by part): 18+ themes (MDNI), modern au, fem reader, sexual themes but no smut (yet), mentions of religion, tense family relations, perv!ellie makes an appearance, mostly cute fluff moments with a tad bit of angst

a/n: i’ve literally wrote and rewrote so many different fic ideas, it actually was driving me insane. but finally here’s something i’m somewhat satisfied with. this will be a 2 part series so no crazy long wait, and ofc there will be smut. lollipop bit was definitely inspired by the movie hot summer nights except gay and no timothee chalamet jump scare. love you all dearly ♡~ lola

Your 2 vintage suitcases, bursting at the seams, fell to the sidewalk with a thud as you stood in front of your new home for the summer. It was an older house with light blue paneling on the sides, an expansive green lawn, and a wrap-around porch, all surrounded by a classic white picket fence.

Bolting out the front door was the most eager old woman you’d ever seen. Your sweet, sweet grandma. She wrapped you in the biggest embrace and the smell of old Chanel perfume and Jergens lotion overwhelmed your senses. The old woman continued crying out your name pestering you with 1,000 kisses. You erupted in a giggle, expressing the same sentiments of love.

The reason for your stay was less heartwarming. After you had wrapped up your first year at university, your overbearing and uber religious parents caught wind of some of the stuff you were up to while there. In their words, you were “impulsive”, “wreckless”, and “just plain stupid”. But in all actuality, you had just smoked some weed, got wasted, and hooked up with some girls.

Nothing too crazy considering it was your first year of freedom, but of course they flipped and decided banishing you to your grandparents for the summer would be best. And although you were less than ecstatic about them being angry with you, the resulting consequence left you anticipating the perfect summer. I mean come on… a gorgeous old house, right by the beach, home cooked meals, and no one to bother you. How could you not get excited? 

✄ - - - -   ♡   - - - -  

Soon, you find yourself strolling along hot sidewalks of the small beach town, wandering into every little place that piques your interest. The first was an antique mall. You ventured through the heaps of knick knacks, furniture, and clothes, finally landing on the sweetest tea cup. It was delicate ivory with a thinly curved handle. Painted on the front; a pair of kittens adorned in pink ribbon. You then stumbled into a 50’s themed sweets shop where you purchased a single cherry flavored lollipop which landed in your mouth as soon as you walked out the door. And finally, you came across a quaint bookshop that was practically begging for you to come inside. 

Pushing the old wooden door open you entered, followed by a small melodic bell announcing the new presence. This caught a young individual's attention. Revealing her collection of freckles and short auburn hair, the girl looked up from behind the mahogany counter to greet you. The employee's smile was adorably toothy and the evening sun leaking through the windows made her practically glow. Your eyes remained locked on the girl's face for a little longer than you’d like but it was worth every second. 

Candy in hand, you toured the towering shelves of tattered books and baskets of old magazines, not really knowing what you were looking for. And still considerably distracted by the dreamy woman manning the front desk. That is until a loud creak of the floorboards stole you from your reverie and left you face to face with the culprit of these thoughts.

“Hi- uh, did you need help finding anything today?” she questioned, giving you a slow look up and down.

“Hmm I’m not sure yet,” you took a long pause to regain a little sense of decorum, “Got any recommendations for me Ellie?” Her eyes went wide in confusion before you gestured to the silver plate pinned to her shirt, pointing out the obvious. “Your nametag hun.”

“Oh, right” she looked down sheepishly at the pet name, “Ummm let me think…” Her voice trailed off again and you popped the sticky, red lollipop back in your mouth to fidget with as she took a beat to think. After compiling a few books in her mind Ellie opened her mouth to speak but god was it hard. Your intent sucking had her in a trance.

“I think you-you’d probably- like…” Ellie wanted to keep talking, she really did, but your plump lips engulfing the red little ball was extremely distracting. She watched as your spit pooled at the upturned corners of your mouth and coated the hard candy. Every thought she had left her except what her lips would look like wrapped around something else. You took note as her pupils slowly dilated at the simple action and decided to have some fun with the awkward girl who you’d obviously left in a trance.

“Did you want a taste?” Ellie took some hard blinks in disbelief and some reproach, not realizing how conspicuous her stares must have been.

“Uh- like of your…” She pointed and you hummed in confirmation, holding the thin white stick at its base, hovering the candy just inches from her mouth. 

“Come onnn, I don’t bite… not unless you want me to.” Ellie’s quick and hot breaths of anticipation tickled the little hairs on your knuckles and you knew exactly what you were doing to her. Eventually she dove into your sweet offer. First with a flat tongue, then her whole mouth closing in on it. The crimson disappeared into her cavity and you twisted at the stick connected, sending an odd sensation across Ellie’s tongue. You quickly snatched it back out and plumpted it back in between your own red stained lips, leaving the girl a flustered mess.

“So what about that book?” you inquired, voice laced with a preformative innocence. 

She shook her head to focus, “Uh- right, how about The Bell Jar? Sylvia Plath?”

“That’s actually perfect. It’s been on my list for months now. Which shelf?”

“If you want… I uh, actually have a copy that you can borrow for free.”

“Actually yeah, I’d love that. Thank you.” You gave Ellie a warm smile that sent millions of butterflies through the pits of her stomach, and honestly yours too. She then disappeared to the back with a flash of her green eyes before returning holding a small book bursting with colored tabs.

“Here- I like to annotate,” she chuckled bashfully, “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Even better.” Ellie blushed at every word you spoke, sending a nervous hand back to scratch at her neck. “Well, thank you for this. I do have to get home but um- I promise to return it as soon as I’m done.” You shook your clasped hands at her like a praise and departed leaving nothing but a trace of your luscious perfume.

Ellie remained awestruck, replaying that whole scenario back again and saving it for later. Selfishly she wished for you to finish the book in just one night. She couldn't help but miss your pretty face already. And after being the only thing on her mind for the rest of the night, she wasn’t sure how long she could wait to see you again. 

✄ - - - -   ♡   - - - -  

That evening after Ellie’s shift she retreated to her bedroom with plans to remove you from her thoughts. Controller in hand, she maneuvered through some first person shooter game but lost every round due to her lack of focus. This was frustrating and she went to light some incense hoping to clear her head with a different approach. The brown, bergamot scented stick caught fire before cherrying at the end leaving a trail of smoke behind. Ellie followed it with her eye’s, gaze passing by her window and quickly retreating back as she spotted something out of the ordinary.

The neighbor's familiar window positioned right across from her own was usually shrouded in curtains, hiding the empty bedroom. But today she could see right in, and even better, there was someone just behind the glass. She inched in closer to get a better look and watched as the girl lay on her bed, ass up, feet kicking in the air. Ellie assumed she was talking on the phone from observing her bouts of giggles, but it was hard to tell. Even harder to decipher was who this mystery woman was. Every little mannerism felt oddly familiar and it was driving Ellie crazy. Could you just get off the phone already and turn around?

Yes, you. Who eventually wrapped up the call with your best friend where you had spent 30 minutes gushing about the 5 minute interaction you had with Elllie. “I just have to have her!” you raved through the telephone line, “in fact, I neeeddd her!!” 

Night had completely fallen at this point and as so you rolled out of your lying position and peeled off your shirt to change into pjs. You did it right in front of the window too, unknowingly giving Ellie a show. 

Next door, the girl's jaw was slack and bottom lip red from her harsh bite. Ellie stared lustfully at your soft seeming skin and gorgeous curves. After getting a better glimpse of your face she knew exactly who you were. And once your top started coming off there was no chance she was looking away now. That is… until she got caught.

As soon as you saw a flash of freckles across the way you dashed to the window almost getting a rug burn from the maneuver. With tits out, (well in a sheer lace bra, so practically out) you slide open the white trimmed aperture and give Ellie the most eager wave, shouting her name along with it. The girl could barely pull herself together as she hesitantly opened up her own window. Was Ellie about to get exiled for being a perv or were you feeling forgiving tonight?

“Ellie?! What the fuck?? Didn’t think I’d be seeing you so soon!!” You shouted with excitement like a child on Christmas.

“Hi-” she halted her greeting, “wait, I don’t even know your name.”

“Oh, it’s ____”

“S’pretty name… I’m glad to see you again.” 

“Oh I bet you are. Saw you watching me change Els.” Really you didn’t mind, but something about teasing her got you off.

“Fuck- no, no. I- I wasn’t trying to, just was getting a better look to see if it was actually you. Please don’t be mad, I really am sorry!” You had left her a stuttering mess.

“No need to say sorry,” with a bat of your eyelashes you eased her worries, “you liked what you saw… right?” 

The girl squirmed, “Uhh…”

“It’s okay, you can say yes Ellie.” And she quickly did, making the cockiest smirk grow on your face. But, you weren’t an easy girl and you planned to tantalize Ellie with subtle passes until the both of you could hardly resist. So you quickly retreated, wishing Ellie a good night before sealing the window and swiping the curtains shut. 

The girl was left a hot mess after it all but trust and believe she had a good night. One with her hands between her thighs and your newly learned name falling from her lips.

✄ - - - -   ♡   - - - -  

The next morning you catch the emerald-eyed girl outside mowing her lawn and take this as the perfect opportunity to play some more mind games.

Slipping into the skimpiest bikini you could find, you scampered into the front yard “to tan”. The green lawn tickled the bottoms of your bare feet before you laid out a red and white striped towel to lounge on. Stomach down, facing towards Ellie, the sun beamed on the expanse of your back. Heart shaped sunglasses hugged your face and shielded your eyes as you admired the pretty girl.

She was dressed in some long cut-off jorts and a black wifebeater tank. A newly lit cigarette hung from her mouth carelessly. You loved the way her pec would flex with each push and pull of the mower. Lines of sweat racing down her arms and neck, illuminating every small vein. And god, when she tilted her head up to exhale a puff of smoke, it drove you wild. 

Your presence had not gone unnoticed though and neither had your cherry printed swim bottoms that were riding up your cheeks. Ellie continued mowing the lawn but was essentially butchering it, too busy staring at you out of her peripherals. She continued passing over the same barren spots of grass over and over, trying to get a better look of the angel laying just on the other side of the fence.

She’d pause mid push every time you’d reposition yourself just so she could see the little recoil of fat that was your plush thighs and heart shaped ass. Her cigarette had yet to leave her mouth after the first few exhales and your prompt arrival. A long build up of ash was begging to slip off the end and at this point she was just mowing little nubs. The yard was a patchy mess and so was she. This mess escalated as soon as she saw you marching to the edge of the fence straight towards her.

Approaching Ellie you planted your elbows on two white posts that stopped at your torso. You shouted out to the sweaty girl, waving her in your direction and she immediately scurried over like an obedient puppy.

“Whatcha smoking?” you questioned, causing Ellie to remember the all-ash cigarette, now between her fingers, being rid of its debris.

“Shit, I’m sorry- do you not like the smoke? I can stop, seriously.” She put out the remaining butt frantically in attempts at atonement.

“Lighten up Els, I don’t care if you smoke. I was just gonna ask to bum one off of you, but I only smoke Marlboros. That menthol shit gives me a headache.” She softened in relief, already pulling out a fresh one just for you.

“That’s crazy, I’m the same exact way. Here, it’s all yours” Ellie attempts to put the cigarette in your hand but you part your lips instead, requesting a different placement. She happily fulfills your request and follows with a silver, square shaped lighter. The flame catches at the end as you take a big inhale, blowing it to the side.

“Thanks, you have no idea how much I needed that. I’ve been cold turkey over here at Grams. Couldn’t even sneak a smoke from her either, she swears by Newports. Truly disgusting if you ask me.” You rolled your eyes, rambling on about your stay and Ellie just listened. She tried piecing together your story from the little tidbits you mentioned but still struggled to understand how you ended up here.

“So you’re just staying with your grandparents for the summer?”

“Yeah pretty much.” you answered nonchalantly.

“How come though? I’ve never seen you here until now. Trust me, I would’ve noticed a pretty girl like you.” she blushed.

“Oh yeah? You think I’m pretty?” you taunted, completely ignoring the question at hand. You weren’t sure how ready you were to spill those beans yet. Ellie gave off such an awkward loser vibe that left you questioning how much of you the girl could really handle. I mean, it seemed like you were already too much for your own parents and beginning to piss off the elders too. And speak of the devil, they arrived home just in time to steal you from Ellie’s company. 

“Babygirl, what are you doing bothering the neighbors?” your grandma called out, making you turn all hot and embarrassed in front of Ellie. Up until now you had managed to keep up the perfect cool girl vibe. The thought that Ellie might not be enjoying this as much as you perceived had never even crossed your mind. But now that it had, your confidence was knocked down a notch. 

“Grams-” You turned to excuse her politely but were cut off before you even got the chance.

“Is that a cigarette young lady?” 

“Umm.. yes…” you hesitated before swiftly putting it out on one of the wooden posts.

“Now where did you get a thing like that?” she prodded, arms crossed. Your eyes glanced over to Ellie but you decided to lie, knowing how your grandparents would react. You’d rather get into trouble than risk losing access to your new favorite girl.

“I swear it was just rolling around in one of the dresser drawers upstairs. I shouldn’t have taken it, but I did and I’m really really sorry. Please can we not mention this?” 

The old woman took a beat to consider your request, “Fine. But hand it over, I need a smoke, the ladies over at bingo this morning were driving me absolutely crazy.” You passed over the cigarette and thanked her and the heavens for sparing you. If your parents found out about any more wrong doings, you knew you’d be done for good, and deep down you believed that Grams had recognized the same threat.

Just over the fence, Ellie had witnessed the whole thing and was left even more intrigued. All this over a cigarette? Mention what to who? But just as she was exiled out of the conversation, Ellie was quickly brought back in.

“So hun, you seem pretty handy if I’m not mistaken.”

“Uh, yes ma’am I guess I am.” Ellie fidgeted, not sure where this conversation was going. Hoping not to get scorned by the wrath you had brought on from the whole cigarette debacle. 

“Well, we’ve got a couple of loose fence posts around the perimeter. I’ve been pleading with my husband to get it done but the old fart can hardly handle walking the block, let alone hard manual labor. You think you could help us out? I’ll give ya 50 bucks for it.” Ellie looked at your grandma, then you, and back to Grams again. 

“Sure, but I don’t need your money. I’ll happily do it free of charge.”

“Well mighty me, thank you very much!” your grandma elated, nudging at you to give thanks as well. You smiled at the girl and then mouthed a little sorry, feeling bad for wrapping her up in all of this. She waved you off, not thinking twice about her choice to help out. Anything to get closer to you, right?

 ✄ - - - -   ♡   - - - -  

That evening you stood in the kitchen, occasionally grabbing out a bowl or passing over an ingredient as your grandma fixed dinner. You sipped from a tall, clear glass of lemonade and looked through the window hoping to catch a glimpse of Ellie in action. 

Noticing your staring, Grams spoke up, “Why don’t you go bring the girl some lemonade to cool off, yeah? In fact, go on ahead and invite her to dinner since she refuses to be paid. Got to say thank you somehow.” Your heart skipped a beat imagining the beautiful girl sat at the dining table.

It was almost scary, every interaction you’d had so far was just casual flirts in passing. This would be the real deal and on top of it, your grandparents would be right there with you. Very, very scary. But there was no arguing this one, so out you went with an endearing proposal and a freshly poured glass of lemonade, all for Ellie.

“Here, I got this for you. It’s homemade.” You ushered the cup forwards to sweaty Ellie and she gratefully accepted with a thank you. You then awkwardly popped the question.

“Sooo… my grandparents want me to invite you over for dinner. As a thank you.” Ellie looked up from her work again trying to read your tone.

“Do you want me over for dinner?”

“Yeah, yeah of course I do. It’s just, you know how it is with family.” You kicked at some dirt that was loosened by the yard work, voiding Ellie’s gaze. It’s not like you didn’t want to see her but how could you trust your grandparents to keep up the mystery. Flirting felt so easy when all the vulnerable parts of yourself had yet to surface.

“I don’t have to come if you don’t want me to. I’d hate to cause any problems.” You quickly backpedaled, afraid she might take your words the wrong way. 

“No, no, not at all. Please. Come. I want you there.”

“Okay, then I will be. Let me finish up out here, take a quick shower, and I’ll be over.” 

✄ - - - -   ♡   - - - -  

Ellie had taken 30 minutes to come back, making it just in time. 20 of those minutes were spent just rummaging through clothes and messing with her hair, too nervous to think about punctuality. She wanted to look good for you, and even more she wanted to impress your family. 

At Ellie’s arrival you opened the door dressed in the shortest little sundress. The pale yellow complimented your skin just perfectly and Ellie wanted to tell you so bad but nerves got the best of her. All she could do was smile and turn 5 different shades of red, matching the rust colored Dickie’s and loose button up shirt that adorned her figure.

“Well, well, well… don’t you clean up nice?” You poked at Ellie’s right arm and she humored you with a shy laugh before putting her head down to shield from embarrassment. Ellie had always been somewhat of a loser but never had she ever met a girl that could leave her this much of a mess with just a few words. 

You then led her into the dining room, both of you taking a seat across from Gram and Gramps at the other end of the table. 

“We’re so happy we could have you over for supper Ellie. I know we don’t mingle much but your father and you have always been such good neighbors.” Your grandpa gushed as Grams nodded along but there was a slight lull before Ellie actually responded. Maybe the mention of her dad? You weren’t sure.

“Well, thank you for having me. It’s always nice to have some company around here.” There was something regretful in her eyes as she said it but the conversation quickly progressed past the moment, leaving you curious for the rest of the night. 

“So how’s school been going for you?” the pair asked.

“It’s been really good. Going into my second year actually.” Ellie answered, putting it simply as she knew this was all formalities and small talk. Even you were beginning to get a little bored with the dry conversation. So you decided to spice things up for the both of you, sliding off your strappy sandals to see how far you could take a game of footsies. 

“Oh wow! ____ is too! What’s your major?” Gramps continued. Your bare foot slid over to Ellie’s beat up sneakers waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. 

“I’m an en-” Her voice cut out as you creeped up the edge of her pants, rubbing on her exposed ankle. She coughed trying to recover, “I’m an engineering major.” You had to bite the inside of your cheek to not let out an audible laugh.

“How wonderful!” Grams enthused, blissfully unaware. Having too much fun, you then slid your hand a chair over to drag down Ellie’s thigh and felt as she tensed up.

The conversation continued at a steady pace and you removed your hand, not wanting to take things too far. Unexpectedly Ellie grabbed it, moving your limb back to its place and keeping her own hand rested on top. A big move considering just minutes ago she couldn’t even muster up the courage to compliment your dress.

You took this as permission to proceed and a simple resting hand turned to a grabby one, gripping at her inner thigh. Teasing the girl to incomparable lengths. She eventually followed in suit, slipping a few fingers under the hem of your dress just slightly before shying away at the dinner's conclusion. And even with such little touch, you were still absolutely soaking.

If only your grandparents knew what was going on under the table.

✄ - - - -   part 2   - - - -   masterlist   - - - -   ♡

taglist...

@endureher @gold-dustwomxn @alexpritch @4rt3m1ss @robinismywifee @sophlovesbooks @97cityy

(taglist is for all callmelola111 works, if you'd like to be removed just kindly lmk)

[daryldixonfanfiction]

What you fight for pt.5 - chery🍒 (*18+)

masterlist

Summary: Daryl is hurt after ending the clamers. As Julia begins to tend to his wounds he can't stop himself from giving into his deepest desire...

Warnings: *18+, SMUT! los of virginity, unprotected p in v, fingering, touched starved Daryl, age gape, fluff, angst, mentions of blood and death, brief mentions of atemt of SA, protective Daryl,

possesive!Daryl.

Wc: 5k

Their silence spoke volumes of what had happened.

Daryl steered her through the abandoned neighborhood as sundowns' last light glowed against their backs, casting shadows on the asphalt. Julia looked downwards, their hands joined between them. The terrifying nightmare she had been woken to hung around her throat -literally. Everything hurt, her body was still recovering from a sprained ankle, head trauma, the hit she had suffered from the crash and her bruised throat throbbed terebully. 

Her gaze returned to their shadows. 

Julia tried to find it within herself to accept what had happened. Because for Julia -to find acceptance was to find peace. Though it was easier said than done. Reminding herself that other women had endured far worse, but it felt like one of the worst things that had ever happened to her, making it difficult coming to terms with, especially when it happened just moments ago.

The house was left further and further behind, they continued to walk silently until she could feel Daryl letting go of her hand. His loss of touch missed instantly. 

“Stay close.”

Daryl moved in front, leading the way through a white picket fence. It was swinging wide open, welcoming them to white house with a few limp walkers, dead on the overgrown yard. Standing behind him on the porch as he bangs on the front door, alerting anny walkers that could be inside Then they enter and Julia closes the door behind them looking at Daryl, but he wasn't looking at her when he spoke and ordered.

“Stay here.”

Julia did just that, waiting in the hall, patiently for him to sweep the house. The house seemed to be recently lived in and it wasn't in bad shape nor ransacked, if she guessed it looked like a prepper had been living here, probably sins the start, before the turn. There were poles of wax surrounding spent candles on the small table in front of her and if she glanced into the kitchen she could see a dining table, set with a plait of dinner that had been left to root by the resident, indicating the person did not make it. 

Daryl emerged from his sweeping, bow hanging in his left hand which was strange, he always favors his right. Julia moved towards him, and asked,

“Is it safe?”

Julia tried to meet his eyes as Daryl let out a sigh before answering.

"Yeah. It's safe.”

Julia tried to search his face once more, he seemed avoidant as she did so, opting to simply look to the floor. And when he stayed silent in a way that was unlike him, Julia tried and began.“Daryl-  but he cut her off before she could say more.

“The place is nailed up tight. The only way in is through the front door. There's food, running water and electricity. The light should be kept to a minimum though.”

Julia nodes. It made sense when the house looked the way that it did. But she worried greatly about his well-being when he seemed so…not himself, and he hasn't really been himself ever since he had shown up…covered in blood.

The unfavoring of his right hand gave it away. Dried blood stains marks his knuckles, and Julia swore she could see his hand shaking in what looked to be pain, though he seemed to be hiding it well.

Her face changed, and she inhaled - a distraction from her own pain and stated worldly,

"You're hurt.”

Daryl seemed to notice the moment she pointed it out. Perhaps he hadn't felt the pain he was in - she didn't know - all she knew was to care for him, then hurriedly she made him move to the living room, “sit…I’ll get something…”

She gestured for the family sized sofa. For a moment she thought he wouldn't, but then he sat down. With that she began and looked for anything to treat his wound. 

Reentering the living room Julia hurried towards him, placing down a med pack and some rags with water to wet, then turned on the lantern that was placed on the coffee table beside his crossbow and the red machete. Even though it didn't light up the whole rome itself, she pulled the curtains down behind them, just to be safe. Returning to him she grabbed a blanket off the sofa, draping it over his shoulders.

He had sunken down into the sofa, elbows resting on his knees and the way his head hung he looked exhausted -as if the weight of the world had finally caught up to him. Julia stood in front of him. Dropping down to kneel between his knees. Carefully, Julia reached for his wounded hand with both of hers, asking softly,

“Let me see.” Daryl began to pull back, making Julia repeat herself, “Let me see.”

With that Daryl relented and Julia's soft hands remained, her eyes attentively examining the damage. 

“It’s fractured.” Julia frowned in concern.

“Maybe a hairline,” Daryl said, down playing the obvious injury he had suffered, “It'll heal fast.”

Julia didn't believe that for a second when she could clearly feel his hand trembling under her touche. Her hair fell a bit making her pull it behind her ear and Julia felt him watching her hands work as she went on and disinfected the broken skin on the swelling knuckles, before wrapping it up with an elastic compression bandage, much as he had done for her ankle. 

The soft glow of the lantern revealed the lower part of hice face, and she said ever so gently,

“Looks like you’ll live,” she placed the med pack on the tabelle behind her, closing it shut, “I would say it will feel better within 3 or 5 days or so, and it will be held within a month.” Then grabbed the water bottle and the rags she had found, “But only if you let it rest that is...” 

He hummed in agnolishment, and she could feel him looking down, watching her intently where she was and she went on to push herself to a stand with a hand on his thigh for leverage. She felt him tense as she pushed herself up, the rags and bottle of water in the other. His head tilted and he let her seat herself beside him on the sofa. Placing the things in her lap, turning to properly take a look at him, making her frown with worry of his bloody state. Swallowing anxiously she began to soak the rags, asking even though the answer could be something she didn't want to be true.

“All this blood….Is it….?”

As if he knew what she was trying to say, he answered simply, “ 's not mine.”

She sighed in relief. Reaching for his face to clean the dried blood off of him, knowing he would never do it himself. Suddenly Daryl stopped her with his good hand, holding her wrist inches from his face, the blanket fell off his shoulders at the motion and began to say, “I’m fine-”

“No. You're not,” Julia frowned. “Daryl…Let me take care of you.” 

A moment passed between them as he held her there. Then. She could feel him giving in, the hold on her wrist gone and so was the warmth off his skin.

Taking his face with one hand she began and cleaned the blood from his chin with the other down to his neck. She worked scrubbing the crimson from his stubble gently, notesting a deep scratch on his trout. A blooming bruce covered his under eye, on his left eyebrow there was a thin cut already scabbing and then there was the noticeable split lip.  Being this close his eyes were visebulle, though they never met her gaze. 

It was left unsaid, but she knew he had been part of the men he had saved her from. Julia inhaled and asked, breaking their silence. 

“How did you end up with them?”

And maybe for the first time he looked at her, even though it was just for a second she saw regret and the gilt in his eyes. Daryl let out a breath before answering. 

“I was chasing the car, as long as I could. There was now way of telling which way it went. I guess I must have dozed off and that's when they found me. I knew they were bad, but they had a code. It was simple. stupid, but it was something. It was enough.

“And you were alone.” Julia said in understanding, watching how his eyes looked far away as he continued.

“Said they were headed for sum neighborhood, to gather supplies. I was hanging back. I was gonna leave. That's when I saw the car, and I thought…. “

She knew what he was trying to say....Seeing the care, thinking she was dead. And she had thought the same about him, making her squeeze his arm in reassurance. 

A pause…then

“So I stayed,” Daryl confessed.  “Right there when I saw you… like that…” 

He couldn't say more and Julia's heart sank, because she knows why. She kept her eyes closed, squeezing him tighter, shaking her head at the thought of him blaming himself over what had happened. It wasn't his fault, he couldn't have done more than he already had. Julia set the used rags aside, then returned her hand where she had squeezed him and did it once again. 

“Look at me." Her command was soft -yeat grounding.

Slowly he did his eyes sparkling with unshed tears, brows pulled down into an expression of sorrow -sorrow for her it seemed. He had such pure eyes his firm exterior could almost had fold her, but all she saw was a man desperate for something to hold onto. 

Looking into his eyes Julia smiled through the sadness, comforting him with the words she wished she had been given. “Don’t blame yourself over things you can’t control, it will not change the things you blame yourself for,” Then she took his hand to place it over her beating heart, holding it there and he let her, “Instead. Focus on the things that will move you forward.” 

It was the only way she knew how to show him the meaning of what she was telling him. That she wasn't gone and he wasn't alone. Rubbing the back of his hand soothingly with her thumb still pressing him there as her heart thumped beneath she could see him begin to relax and the sadness of his features turned into something -something she found hard to read. His eyes traveled where she pressed him to her chest and he watched how her thumb moves on his skin -how the rise and fall of her breting moves her ribcage. Her soothing motions stills and she questions him, eyebrows coming together, 

“Do you understand?” 

There was no answer. 

His hand began to move upwards, slowly, and he looked to be in a sort of trance watching his own movement from her chest, collarbone, along her throat, stopping at her face. His larger hand holds her there and Julia could only stare in return, confused as just moments ago he had been on the verge of tears. She wondered if what she had told him was the source of such a thing? 

His face was worn by the seasons and by the life he had lived. His under eyes were dark, unrested. But there was also a softness there and she could feel it too. She had seen it in his eyes but now his pupils were blown wide, but if he had just...done what she thought he

had done...he was probably coming down from it. But something told her otherwise. It was famileure, the way he was looking at her and it reminded her of their dinner at the memorial home.

It was that same way he was looking at her, onely more intense as if deep wanting, a need of something. 

Placing her smaller hand on top of his Julia surged his eyes, maybe she thought she would find the answer there? His thumb began to brush the skin on her cheek then it traveled just as slowly like before, bruising over her button lip. Searching his gaze once more just to be chore it's what she thought she noticed how the black has almost swallowed the blue of his irises. It was almost unnoticeable but being this close to one another she saw how he glanced down to her lips then back up again. 

oh…

Julia blinked at him, it surprised her that he wanted to. She had never thought of him in that way before. Not until now and without much thought she spoke to him,

“It’s ok. You can kiss me.”

His adam's apple bobs, his only focus is her lips. His breathing is more laborde and she can feel how his other hand runs through her hair with his fingers until they still - cradling the back of her head. Then tilts her head as he tilts his own and leans in; she closes her eyes, feeling her heart pick up with nerves of anticipation of what is to cume.

And then... 

His lips pressed against hers. They felt rough, not like hers. A stark contrast as stubble rubbed against her face. It was slow and soft at first, him holding her there and she holding on to his jacket. The kisses turned hungrier, slopier and needier. The way he was pressing his lips onto hers, forcing his tongue into her mouth made it seem like he hadn’t felt human contact in years. 

It was…intense…As if deeply needing. Needing something.

When the need for oxygen became too much he broke the kiss to remove his jacket, tossing it aside along with the layer underneath, leaving him in a black t-shirt and jeans. His lips returned to hers and he dipped down, kissing her even needier than before. Without her releasing he unbuttons her cardigan, button after button and when he was done his arms took hold of her to gently being laid against the softness of the sofa, never breaking the kiss. Moving on top of her, settling between her knees she had naturally spread open, welcoming him there with her arms wrapped around his neck to keep him close. She could feel how his hip brushed against her inner thigh before he rested against her completely.  

It was due to his protective nature knowing he could protect her from what’s out there, including those men. It made her feel safe as she laid beneath him, caged between his forearms, elbows on either side of her head, keeping that little space so as not to crush her. She tried to meet his more forceful kisses but she had only made out a couple of times before and therefore followed his lead. Carding her fingers through his hair -It was clear that Daryl was nothing like the boys she had been with, and she liked it.

She continued to run her hand through his hair, smoothing away from his face and then, gripping the nape of his neck as he pulled her tighter to himself, calloused hands slipping under her long skirt  sliding along her bare thighs exposing her underwear beneath, dampened by the arousal. 

He let out a low groan when he pressed into her, he moved his mouth from hers to slide along her jawline. He sounded different than any time she had heard him before. He moved upward again and kissed her and began to rock back and forth against her, and she didn't miss the squeak the sofa made.

She was trembling beneath him. His hands were all over and his touch felt desperate. Almost animalistic in a sense that made her feel vulnerable, but not afraid -she knew he would never hurt her. She had felt nothing like it, being touched and kissed the way he did -not ever. It felt as if her heart was going to explode at every giving moment and her body only wanted more, more and more.

He continued to rock against her -her underwear and his ruff jeans preventing the friction from going any further. It was embarrassing how wet she had gotten at this point -she worried she was leaving the evidence on his pants -and she heard him breath lowly-

“Julia.”

It sounded like a plea, she didn't know. Her mind was all over -spinning…not knowing how it had all come to this. His temple almost met hers and she noticed how he had closed his eyes as if controlling something with himself. Her hands moved soothingly along his face, smoothening hair away to better see the handsome man above her and she answered reassuringly, sensing his search for something.

“I’m here.”

It was all the response he needed, bringing the soaked underwear with his hands -sliding them past her ankles…He was quick to return between her knees, still spread open for him and only him. He kissed her. He seemd to like kissing her and even though he was a bit ruff in his way she still liked it though she tried to slow him down soothing his face once more. She ran her thumb over his cheek to comfort that deep need he seemed to have. 

And then she felt his ruff, broad fingers traveling down and down until finding the ace she had tried to satisfy herself but it never had felt enuff. But as he touched that sensitive place between her legs she could hardly breathe. The anticipation made her mind spin more than it did before. She felt her toes curl, and she reached to embrace him to ground herself to something when she felt so much she almost didn't know what to do with herself. As he continued to move a sound escaped her and she welded herself from allowing more to pass her lips. Heat on her face bloomed of embarrassment; she had never made that noise before as she had always just breathed the noises out soundles into the night when she had dun it to herself. And that habit had become ingrained. 

To her surprise Daryl didn't seem to mind, not at all -prompting him to kiss her temple then after the first finger entered her son another one joined and it was becoming difficult to stay silent, making her hold onto his shirt tightly she worried she was gonna tear it apart. As his fingers moved in and out in a rhythmic motion -the wet sound between her legs was sinful. That also made her embarrassed even though she knew it to be natural. Julia tried to breathe it out but when it didn't work she tried soothing herself planting a kiss on his less stubbled cheek, leaving her lips there feeling how the blooming sounds in her throat had become dangerously close to pass her lips. 

When his fingers removed themselves she missed it instantly, she could never touch herself the way he had touched her…As he shifted -her mind flared with what they had just done, not notesting him positioning himself until he ordered breathlessly…

“Tell me no. Tell me to stop.” 

It caught her off guard -making her wonder if that was truly what he wanted when he was breathing the way he did. She embraced him comfortingly. He was grabbing the edge of the sofa holding himself above her with his forehead against the croak of her neck. Then his mouth pressed to the underside of her exposed jaw, speaking against her skin, "Just say the word and I’ll stop.”

Her Fingers gently prodded the nape of his neck -somewhat confused she hesitated for just a moment before whispering, “But, I want you to do it.” Then tugged the back of his shirt urgingly.

As he had been struck by her words -his inhale was charp. Lips returned to hers, starving and ruff, not gentle like her fingers running through his hair. Then suddenly, he was pressed against her entrance -making her tense in knowing of the pain that followed. The intrusion was slow and it felt larger than his fingers this time. A sound escaped her and it must have startled him, making him pause in his movements. The feeling was overwhelming, not painful, more like a stretch in a way. Breathing heavily against her she could feel how his chest expands and shrinks against her own. He spoke, voice sounding like gravel, “You alright?”

“Yes,” she breathed against his ear.

He pushed further -until he was all the way inside of her. In knowing what was to come Julia wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him closer to herself. He began to rock his hips, moving slowly inside of her. It was overwhelming at first but she could feel herself readjusting to him and the stretch forgotten as she became engulfed by the pleasure bilding inside of herself. She couldn't control the wimpers that escaped her though she tried to keep them to a minimum because of the embarrassment.

All she knew was kissing, the step after was new -making her bury her face in his shoulder, biting back sounds and gasps. Daryl's sounds were low and deep, it was beautiful in a way herring him vulnerable like that. Knowing a man like him would allow himself to be soft as he was with her now. It felt special. It was special. For her it was.

His hands were moving all over her body, it felt as if he was everywhere at once -still needing and needing and she couldn't give any more than she already did. She wrapped her legs around him, sending him deeper inside of her. A small cry escaped her, her head tilting back, and his body followed, pushing her deeper into the sofas bedding.

He then slowed his movements going as deep as he possibly could -as if he was trying to get her to make that sound again. Reaching for his face to slide her fingers over his dashing features. She couldn't help but wonder if he would ever touch her this way again…

Daryl continued his agonizing slow pace - rocking deeply with every stroke. His hand wanted to press into her neck, but he must have noticed the blooming bruises on her throat when he breathed the lowest she had ever heard him do before,

“They will never touch you again,” his thumb on her face pressed to her chin tilting her head towards him, “No one will, because I won't let them.”

“I know. I know” Julia breathed breathlessly.

Staring into his beautiful pools of blue, swallowed by their shared pleasure between them -she could feel his gaze never leaving her face when she closed her eyes, focusing on the feeling of him inside of her. She knew he was watching her reactions intently and she thought about how this was nothing she thought sex would be like -there was no speaking that she thought would leave her dirty afterwards. Instead it was Daryl’s protectiveness and how he touched her so desperately, yet softly with his hands traveling along her skin searching for something within her as their bodies moved in unison and deeper and deeper, until Julia couldn't help the small sounds leaving her lips, one after the other. It was obvious he liked them, each and every single one, because he kept his head close -as if to make sure he didn't miss the whimpers she’d make.

His movements quickend suddenly, making Julia hold on for dear life feeling how she was about to come undone. He grabbed hold of her hip with one hand as he trusted until he stilld completely with a grunt so low she could only describe as animalistic. He fell forward caging her once more with his forearms and hands to either side of her head to keep him from falling on her completely. Sweat was sticking between them where he had bunched up her skirt exposing her to him and she could feel the wetness flowing out of her and the smell of sex in the room.

Their chest heaving, both out of breath from what they had just done. And Julia knew that this was tame compared to what he was capable of. Because, after all, he is a very capable man.

His broad frame loomed over her, and he questioned -breathless, “You alright?”

Julia could onely hum in return as she was still coming down from her high, overwhelmed but in all the good ways possible. She could barely keep her eyes open as she felt him nudge her face with his nose seeking her attention and she gave it to him thru half lidded eyes.

“Hey,” concern was leased in his tone as stroke her cheek with a thumb. “You alright?” 

She swallowed thickly -before nodding, mind still swirling with so many feelings she didn't know where to put them, the pleasure of it all preventing her from thinking straight…

“Yes…Just tired”

He let out a breath of relief. Maybe he was worried he had hurt her somehow? But how could he have done that when he had been so gentle, asking for her to stop him if she didn't want to.

He leaned down -lips pressing to her lips before he moved to lay behind her and pulled the blanket around them she had put on his shoulders. She turned in his hold, snuggling into his warm chest, his arm naturally wrapped around her as his injured arm was draped over her waist.

Julia couldn't help but look in awe upon the man she had just shared the most cherist part of herself, her body. Never before had she felt as safe and close to someone as she did with him and this only made that feeling grow deeper within herself.

Minutes passed with him holding her flush against him and her admiring him beneath his chin, listening to his breathing and feeling the calming pace of his heart against her palm. It almost lulled her into sleep but before she could drift away Daryl confessed,

“I killed them -I killed them all.”

Julia's eyes widened, but she knew, deep down she knew that that was what had happened, the reason he had hidden the bodies, the reason he made her hide, not wanting her to come down. Her gaze left his face where she could see him staring at the selling with a faraway look in his eyes. Julia swallowed before answering,

“I know.” A few moments of silence passed and then, “Every second I was trapped in that car, I was only thinking of you….And when he told me you were–

“He?” Daryl cut her off mid sentence, his hold on her tightening and she could feel his heart racing through his shirt.

“The man who found me,” Julia clarified, “Apparently I was fighting walkers and he saved me. Or that's what he told me.” then clutched his shirt before continuing, “But the more I think about it… It wasn't walkers I was fighting.”

Julia waited for him to say something, anything but he never did so she continued, “You should have seen his eyes. I will never forget that look he had…

He held his breath and he questiond her, “Did he?”

Immediately Julia shook her head against him. The mere thought of it made her sick, “No. I stopped him before he could.”

“Good,” Daryl breathed in return, still looking at the ceiling.

But the growing guilt inside of herself had grown tremendously sinnes it happened, eating at her in every waking moment even haunting her in her sleep. Leaning her cheek against his chest, making her speak against the the fabric there,

“Daryl, I did something terrible.” 

“What you mean?” 

Julia could hear the confusion in his voice but she had to close her eyes as she told him what she did that night, and she told him,

“He got mad when I asked him to turn back, to let me go and he just got so…angry. And then I noticed he had locked me up with one of them handcuffs... So I panicked. I don’t exactly remember how but the car hit something and the next thing I saw was walkers…everywhere.” A shaky breath, then, “He was being eaten alive and the only thing I could think of was saving myself as he screamed for me to help him…But I didn't. I Just left him to die… like that.” Julia completely buried her face into him, softly crying as she held onto his shirt but then she felt his hand stroking the back of her head soothing her to the best of his capabilities. 

When Julia had calmed down a bit Daryl spoke with a voice devoid of emotion, “Some people deserve to die like that.”

“But, that's cruel.” Julia's voice broke, sniffling through the reaments of her tears.

“That’s the truth.”

But It was hard to accept such an ugly reality. At least inside of herself even if she was good at accepting reality, but this time she couldn't. Not yet at least. Drying her tears as she unmoved her face from his chest now dampened by her tears she said,

“I don’t want it to be.”

“I know.” Daryl said softly, continuing to stroke her head.

There were no more words spoken after that, engulfed by what they had said and what they had done, but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence, it was a silence that made one sleepy. Julia very much so. Her eyes continued to get heavier -and Daryl’s body was relaxed against her, welcoming it. Once more she spoke but it was quiet and laced with slip but she said it anyways before she drifted in the solace of sleep in his arms.

“I missed you,” and she fell asleep.

Pulling her closer to himself he left a kiss in her hair and then he whispered,

“I missed you too.” 

masterlist Pt.6

[mikuni14]

Phaya and Tharn have been married for 30 years, and I suspected it first after they admired the tourist attractions in matching ugly shirts, but their morning together in episode 5 IS A FINAL PROOF 😤:

when they sleep comfortably together (Phaya with his head under the pillow is... something else 😆, also his grabby hands)

the traditional morning fight about snoring being lovey-dovey and hugs (allegedly), ending with Tharn categorically stating that he would ABSOLUTELY never do such a thing (!!!)

oh, someone calls! and Tharn just gets up, leaving Phaya in his own bed, nbd

Phaya and Tharn are just together, half-naked, wandering around the apartment, nbd

Phaya asks to be a part of a conversation with the abbot, Tharn just does it without a second thought, then unconsciously gives him water, THAT'S WHAT AN OLD MARRIED COUPLE DOES ✅

Phaya pours him water because Tharn is too busy talking and thinking, this is an ACT OF SERVICE, NATURAL FOR A COUPLE WHO HAVE KNOWN AND LOVED EACH OTHER FOR A LONG TIME 💞

Phaya participates emotionally, mentally and physically in Tharn's life, in his family life, as seen in the conversation with the abbot

Phaya listens carefully to Tharn and the person close to him, THEY'RE MARRIED I TELL YOU 😤

Phaya, of course, has to tease and humiliate Tharn in front of his own father figure, 📢MAAAAARIED

Tharn: 😬😠🤼‍♂️💀

Phaya has to get ready quickly, he leaves Tharn as if they had been living together for 30 years, like a husband leaving a house with a white picket fence from the 1950s

Tharn: 😦😦😦😦

Tharn: *stares at the door*

Tharn: motherfucker left without a kiss

Tharn: COMPLAINS SOME MORE ABOUT HIS HUSBAND to his dad until he literally hangs up looooool

[phoenixtakaramono]

Butchlander M, N, P if you please. :)

(This Ask is regarding this.) Always happy to provide some HCs!

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Butcher’s accent turns Homelander on like no other.

Homelander is like a tomcat in heat; there has not been a season, barring S4, where we don’t see him getting his rocks off either with a sexual partner or by himself. The sight of Billy wearing an apron and expertly kneading dough with his flour-dusted fingers and the muscles of his forearms bunching beneath the skin could enter Homelander’s periphery during an important conference call with Vought’s board of directors—and Homelander would be distracted throughout the meeting with insignificant boring mudpeople with his brain in the gutter thinking about sucking on Billy’s fingers and fantasizing about having his 6’1” British man bend him over the kitchen counter or vice versa. I think once they’re in a relationship or once he has locked in on Billy as the perfect male specimen to copulate with, there are four things about William J. Butcher that’d primarily make him pop a boner:

1) Billy being uncharacteristically sweet and coming to Homelander’s defence in public, sticking up for him and cuttingly disparaging anyone who talks shite about the hero whilst simultaneously propping Homelander up to soothe his ego (bonus points if it’s directed toward someone Homelander can’t talk back to; extra bonus points if Homelander heard that Billy had made the person cry; extra extra bonus points if Billy’s coming across as possessive y’know, “the only person who gets to talk to you that way is me; your life belongs to me” typical villain-obsessed-with-the-hero rhetoric); it’s just the unexpectedness of it, coming from Butcher, that’d make the biggest impact on Homelander;

2) experiencing moments of unexpected domestic bliss that fits Homelander’s ideal “white picket fence” American Dream he’s been conditioned to crave (of owning a home, a loving wife husband, children a loving son, a loving family, a dog, and a happily ever after);

3) Billy thinking Homelander’s finally cool and trustworthy enough to start involving him in The Boys operations, being forthcoming about his sinister plans regarding how he’s going to blackmail or assassinate someone or systematically dismantle their reputation and empire piece-by-piece (bonus points if Billy’s target is someone whom Homelander recognises who’s either one of his loud hecklers/ antifans, his competition in the superhero business that he’s complained to Billy about, or is just someone in general whom Homelander has been bellyaching about; extra bonus points if Homelander senses an opportunity to be helpful—because he’s “just the perfect generous dream lover and William would now be indebted to him for coming to his rescue solving their little problem that he and his lover’s useless friends obviously couldn’t handle by themselves”);

4) Billy literally murdering someone in cold blood “to protect their family” or to “protect him.” Oh, imagine the bloody kisses, bloodstained hands cradling each other’s faces, and Homelander whispering breathlessly, touched beyond measure, “You did this for me?”

As long as Homelander does not perceive his authority being challenged in front of others, he’d even be willing to tolerate kinks he’d never explored before—whether it be degradation (not his favourite, mind you; he’s more of a praise-kink type of guy, but he’d come around to Billy’s rapid-fire dirty talk that’s more on the meaner side) or forced feminisation. He’s not effeminate (that’s a whole another Pandora’s box) and will always have this complex of wanting to be perceived as this masculine alpha male kinda guy whom everyone listens to, but behind closed doors he thinks it’s so hot that William is physiologically affected seeing him wear women’s lingerie for him and “looking handsome and pretty” for him. It’s the taboo nature of anything that’d turn Homelander on. For someone who’s been ordered around his entire life, doing something considered to be “sinful and shameless” is like a good strait-laced kid going through his rebellious phase—and nothing’s more taboo than being led astray and being bedded by a “bad boy.” For once he doesn’t have to be a superhero; he can just turn his brain off, enjoy the ride, and be bossed around by someone he finds hot and obviously knows what they’re doing. His body is virtually indestructible, so no matter what “new fun experiments” Billy wants to test on him to “spice up their sex life,” he’s always down to try everything at least once. He’s the hero who’s straightened the villainous William J. Butcher out plus the sex is incredible—and that is probably the biggest turn-on for him.

For Billy, it’s Homelander submitting to him. It’s seeing the hero act differently from the monstrous image Billy’s built of him inside his head that does it for him, whether it be indulging Homelander’s lactation oral fixation, fucking the brattiness out of him (it does something for Billy when he sees that infuriating, haughty look of superiority in those blue eyes be wiped away into sweetness whenever Billy pounds into that slightly hard, spongy sweet spot inside Homelander), or Homelander behaving very affectionately with him in the afterglow. Billy will never admit it—and he will always make fun of Homelander for acting clingy, as if he regards Billy as the linchpin to his existence—but he secretly likes it when Homelander seems to have made it his mission to make physical contact with Billy, whether it be scrabbling at his shoulders, his arms, hooking his legs around him or hanging his legs off Billy’s shoulders whenever they do the deed. Topping Homelander is the biggest turn-on for Billy, because he still gets to “bully” him (even though it’s different). He gets to experiment with things he’d been curious about but would never try with Becca—or any ordinary human being for that matter. It’s like pairing a person with sadistic tendencies with someone with submissive, masochistic tendencies—who happens to be indestructible and has an attitude problem that needs correcting for the good of humanity. Bonus points if it’s because of him that Homelander becomes a moaning, incoherent mess, with his pretty blue eyes slightly wet at the lashes from the “bullying” and overstimulation, but clearly still wanting more. He’s made Homelander into this—and that turns him on.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

This is less of a HC and more tied to canon, but the moment Homelander hears “squirt” or “squirter” or any variation of that from Billy’s lips, that instantly kills his mood because it triggers a traumatic embarrassing memory in his childhood of being caught with his pants down wanking off and Marty seeing that and giving him that nickname. And, no, he will never get past this. This grown adult man in his 40s will roll himself off Billy’s d!ck, burrito himself in the blankets, and be a big sulky inconsolable baby for the rest of the night. Homelander won’t say it but he expects to be coddled and his face or his shoulder planted with tiny, soft, intimate kisses and be asked what’s wrong and how can he make him feel better—even if Homelander won’t give him an answer (it’s a bit of a Catch-22 situation since he obviously won’t be getting an apology from Billy who’s uninformed about all this but neither is Homelander willing to fess up about what’s gotten him into a sudden b!tchy fit)—or else he’s going to feel unsatisfied and continue giving Billy the cold shoulder, or be petty, well into the next day.

Other turn-offs would be any mention of past sexual partners during sex, i.e. Madelyn (HL), Stormfront (HL), Maeve (HL & Billy), and especially any accidental slip of the tongue that conjures a memory of Becca Saunders for Billy (Billy & HL). It doesn’t even have to be a Freudian slip of the tongue by Homelander. It’s anything innocuous that Billy’s brain associates with his late wife (whether it’s something random like seeing her favourite cereal brand, or a Spice Girls song suddenly coming on the radio whilst the two men are being hot and heavy, or a joke Homelander makes about them being like husband and wife) that’d kill Billy’s raging hard-on, make Billy go flaccid, and he will instantly freeze all bedroom activities. Nothing Homelander can say or do, once Billy gets like this, will fix it. If it’s a particularly bad triggering episode, Billy will leave and not without some unkind parting words. The topic of Becca is the figurative wife-sized giant elephant in the room that will forever loom over their relationship. The Cold War that Billy’s launched will last until he’s able to extricate himself out of his depressed, self-loathing funk—perhaps needing a trip to Becca’s grave and having a long heart-to-heart talk sitting down with her tombstone—and he’s finally calmed himself down to be able to return to Homelander’s side without feeling that same vengeful, self-destructive violent impulse burning inside him calling for Homelander’s blood which’d consumed Billy’s life for more than a decade.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on the occasion, the mood, the time, the place and the setting.

I imagine they’re usually more fast and rough if it’s a quickie or either one wanting to give the other a bj or a quick handjob, particularly with Homelander’s superhero schedule and whatever Billy’s gotten himself involved into this time. Time is a luxury. And they’re both pressed for time. Not to mention if there’s a bit of the hatefuck dynamic happening; no lube, just spit will do. Their breaths mingling, bodies pressed up tightly together in a broom closet, in a dirty back alley, at The Seven’s boardroom, etcétera.

If it’s slow and sensual, either Billy is deliberately trying to seduce Homelander—or they’ve already reached the level of being in a established relationship where Billy’s harsh edges had been worn down to be softer and a semblance of trust has been forged between them. Anytime Billy sees Homelander acting a little more human, a little more like John and less like Homelander, those tiny reminders gentles him out into being a sweeter and considerate, sentimental lover. I imagine it’s a big deal whenever it happens. It’s rare, very intimate, requires some vulnerability, and represents how far they’d come. Homelander has always adored the act of making love to someone he loves, so he’s equally as smitten with being made love to by someone whom he believes he’s single-handedly managed to change their mind about him and orchestrated into falling in love with him. It strokes his ego knowing he’s converted his biggest hater into his biggest fan (this is not really the case, but Billy just accepts it and lets Homelander enjoy his delulu fantasy because it’s what makes him happy).

[keeksandgigz]

a shot in the darkest dark

steve harrington x commitment issues! fem!reader

i fucking love writing angst and this is also my very first steve work! tiny little blurbie for now cause I've been obsessed w Steve and this song

cw: unrequited love, reader has committment issues, one instance of self deprecating language, no physical description of reader, just lots of rly sad stuff

word count: 1.5K

"Awww, Steve, look! It's such a nice desk" you'd said, pointing at an oakwood desk while absentmindedly looking at furniture at a big Indianapolis mall.

Steve seemed to be in his own world, as he paced around the aisles, looking at tables, chairs, patio decor. He'd taken you out of Hawkins for the day, a little date that didn't involve movies or aimlessly walking around the small downtown area.

You hadn't been dating for too long, and to your wishes, he was taking things slow with you. You'd been so lovely to him, though and him to you.

He'd take you out on dates and pay the bill, drive you around when you needed to clear your head and kiss you goodnight at your doorstep. It was too good to be true.

For the past six months, Steve Harrington had been at your beck and call at every hour of every day, eager to see you, be with you, literally do anything as long as it was with you.

His only flaw was falling in love too fast.

"Oh yeah, it's really nice. I can get it for our first apartment" he dug into your side, smiling. The future was all he worried about, his beautiful picket- fence dream that he'd always wanted.

It made you uncomfortable, how easily he was able to talk about moving in together, starting a family, getting married. Your mind didn't work like that. You took a step away from him, an awkward laugh escaping you.

"I need to get a scarf, it's starting to get cold in Hawkins, come with me?" you'd said, swallowing the guilt that came from dismissing his dreams.

You'd thought you could have made it work. Steve was a lovely guy, so devoted to you he'd damn year kiss and worship the ground you walked on. But everything was too good. It wasn't something you thought you deserved.

You'd paid close attention to him, for any flaw that could have given you an excuse to go, but he was too perfect.

"Yeah, uh- of course, honey. Maybe we should come here during Christmas, I heard they do some really nice markets. I could get you something nice" he'd suggested, putting his arm around you. You breathed through your nose.

"Yeah- yeah that sounds nice." You whispered, as you walked over to Sears.

The day went about the same after that. He'd come across a little baby onesie with stars on them.

"Look honey, isn't it so cute?" he smiled. You had to hold back a grimace at his implication.

He looked at the window of a real estate agency, taking account of what a four bedroom home in Idianapolis would cost. Planning to save his money from his shiny new accounting firm job.

"Ooh" he cooed "that house is real nice, don't you think baby?" he pointed at a white picket- fence light blue home with a big front yard.

"Yeah, it's really nice" you said "Steve, I'm kinda tired. Can we go home?" you'd protested, hoping he'd just drop you at your house and you could cry it out, wondering what was wrong with you for not wanting what many girls your age wanted. Stability. A family.

"For sure, honey. Want to stay over at mine's? We can grab a movie and get some pizza or something" he said, kissing your temple.

The fact that he was okay with you taking your time didn't mean that he took his. He was a speeding train running at full speed ahead, while you felt like you were biking behind him, feeling left out from this feeling of love and devotion that he continuously showed you.

"Uh, no, thank you, Steve. I have work in the morning" you lied. You didn't want to see him. The guilt would have only grown stronger, until you could not have taken it anymore.

The drive home was surprisingly quiet. Steve chalked it up to you being tired. He knew crowded places overwhelmed you.

After an hour and a half of complete silence, he pulled up in the street where you lived.

"Oh look, baby, a dog! I've always wanted one like that, maybe we can get one-"

"Steve just fucking stop it!" you'd interrupted him, banging on the dashboard. He braked hard in the middle of the empty street.

"Jesus, babe, what's wrong?" he said "Sorry for braking this hard" as he parked up the curb.

You breathed "Sorry, Steve. I-I can't do this." you whispered.

You breathed "Sorry, Steve. I can't do this. This is moving so incredibly fast” you exhaled, letting the boulder weighing on your chest slowly crumble, and you with it. 

“I’m sorry, I’m- I’m not sure I understand. Can’t do what?” he said, nearing his head towards yours. Wanting to be close to you, wanting to hear your thoughts. You retracted from him, now heaving.

The air in the car felt so incredibly stuffy as you unfastened your seatbelt and got out, heading towards your front porch. He followed you suit, cursing yourself for wanting to let him go.

You were leading him on with false hopes of a future you didn't want. You needed to free him before it was too late. The crisp November air turned your breaths into vapor, tinging your noses red. He'd forgotten his coat in the car.

"I just- I can't do this. I can't do us. This is... too much. The moving in and the house and the kids and the dog and the family stuff. I can't Steve I don't want this" you rambled. And that's when the waterworks started. Mascara running down your cheeks, loud sobs populating the otherwise quiet cul de sac.

He got closer to you, but you backed away once again. He didn't need to be that close, not when you were trying to let him go.

"Baby... what- I- I had no idea, I just- I" he was helplessly stuttering. Your chest was aching watching his eyes gloss over ever so slightly, you swore you could hear his heart break.

"I'm so sorry, Steve. I tried. I tried so incredibly hard to see what you saw and I fucking hate myself for not being able to. You're so great, you've been such a lovely boyfriend and I need you to know, because I don't wanna lead you on. I care so much about you but-"

"You don't love me" he interrupted you. A whisper. Barely audible, but loud enough that you could hear the hurt in his voice "It's been six months. You don't love me?" he continued. A breath caught in your throat as you tried to answer that you did try, you did care for him.

You just didn't love him how he did. You knew you were doomed since you'd started going out.

The world went quiet, but not in your ears, a loud whistle kept you on alert, wishing you could crawl inside and hide under your bed forever.

Steve's eyes became clouded with tears as the silence between you became the loudest response he could have ever gotten.

He didn't want to let you go, but being led on for six months had hurt more than he'd expected. He wanted you to tell him that this was just a silly joke, to come inside, cuddle and watch a movie.

Steve waited. He waited for a negation, for an I love you, Steve. An affirmation that never came as you looked at him. You felt embarrassed and he felt like you'd stabbed him.

He was the first to break the silence.

"So I guess it's over then" he croaked out, a burning ball lodged in his throat that didn't allow him to speak. Or breathe for that matter.

"I'm so sorry, Steve. I just- I didn't want to lie to you any longer. Even if I loved you, I'm not good for you. All I'm gonna do is pull you back from this great dream you have. You can't have a picket fence with me, I'll only tear it down. And you can't just put it back up, Steve" you said, taking as many steps back to get away from him. From the guilt of losing him.

"I'll put up as many picket fences as you need. I just want you" he pleaded, one last prayer. Don't go.

"I'm sorry, Steve. Please go home. You're gonna get sick" your voice a thin iron string settled in between your throat. You loved him, but didn't deserve it. Didn't deserve him.

And so Steve turned around, grabbing his broken heart off the floor. You watched him from your driveway, quiet, with his head hung low. A love like his should not have gone wasted on someone like you.

Steve reached his car door, looking at you for one last time, eyes watery and dark. Hoping, praying for your thin voice to speak up, to tell him to come back to your driveway. Tell him to stay.

Don't go.

[ramblingoak]

Satan’s Toy Box

Hello anon!  Thank you for the prompt and I hope you enjoy what I came up with!  

~ As the owner of the local sex toy shop you find yourself developing a crush on a Cardinal from the local Satanic church ~

The prompt was: attempting to find out if they are single/available

Cardinal Copia x GN Reader (nsfw, 18+, mdni)

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

Today was going to be the day.

You had been working up the courage for months at this point, ever since the man had first walked into your store.  He was definitely handsome, if a little old fashioned.  Not many people sported sideburns and mustaches anymore, but he pulled them both off.  It made him seem distinguished, especially with the salt and pepper strands creeping in at his temples. 

He was older than who you usually went for.  Of course maybe that was a good idea given your recent track record.  It seemed like most people your age weren’t ready to settle down yet.  You weren’t exactly looking to settle down yourself, the thought of a white picket fence and 2.5 kids was vaguely terrifying if you were being honest.  Unfortunately the main obstacle in your dating life was where you worked: Satan’s Toy Box.

It was rather irritating how fast some people would leave after learning you owned a sex supply shop.  You really didn’t know what the big deal was.  Some people were still way too hung up on topics surrounding sex.  It seemed like you either got people that were immediately turned off at the news or they thought you personally experimented with every item you sold.

Although honestly that wasn’t too far from the truth.

I mean, you had your limits, but you were taught that it was important for a business owner to know their product.  First hand experience and all that.  So if your products happened to be sex toys, so be it.  You’d never been one to shy away from some adventure in the bedroom.  Or out of it even.

Setting up shop in a town that also had a Satanic Church had seemed like a brilliant idea.  Kind of like Girl Scouts selling cookies right outside pot dispensaries.  It was a match made in Heaven.  Well, Hell.  Whatever.  Anyway, the various church members were regulars in your shop.  Siblings of Sin as they were called, people in masks called Ghouls, a few men in skull paint that called themselves ‘Papa’ and the man you had been trying to build up the courage to ask out: Cardinal Copia.

So yes, when Copia had waltzed into your store for the first time in a tight red suit you had been immediately interested.  He cut an interesting figure, what with the facial hair and the paint around his eyes and on his upper lip.  You had been behind the front counter and called out a welcome, but the poor man had been startled at your sudden voice and walked right into a display of neon butt plugs.

His cheeks had turned the same color of his suit and he tripped over an apology while trying to pick up the display.  You had rushed over to help, assuring him it was no problem while desperately trying not to stare at his face.  His Italian accent was giving you thoughts and it was possible when your hands both reached for the same neon pink butt plug you already had hearts in your eyes.

It was like you were starring in a Hallmark movie.

After everything had been cleaned up he had introduced himself and mentioned he was there to pick up an order for the church.  The transaction had gone quickly, only a little small talk before he had left with his large order of lube.  It was really adorable how often he felt the need to clarify it was for the church and not just him.  Like it mattered to you, you liked a man that was prepared.

By now though months had passed and you were fairly embarrassed with yourself that you hadn’t asked him out yet.  You just kept thinking he probably had some cute young sibling at the abbey.  Probably multiple siblings.  Why would he want to settle with one person when he was surrounded by beautiful people literally there to sin 24/7?  Plus you didn’t want to make things awkward, he was a regular customer after all. 

It’s just…what if he was interested as well?  He definitely had a flirty vibe whenever you spoke, but it’s possible he was just being nice.  There had been a few times he’d come in with some of the Ghouls and both times it looked like they had been arguing, only speaking in fierce whispers.  You wouldn’t have necessarily thought it was about you, but the last time they had been in the shop you overheard one of them tell Copia to ‘grow a pair’.

That had been what really drove you to decide that today was it, you were going to ask Cardinal Copia out on a date.  He was going to (maybe) say yes, you both would later have (probably) amazing sex and then in a year or so you’d (possibly) have that white picket fence everyone seemed to be clamoring for.  Or whatever the Satanic equivalent was, you weren’t going to be picky.

You had been doing laps around the shop all morning.  Dusting shelves and straightening products.  Making sure the movies were organized by genre and then alphabetized within each section.  The store hadn’t even been this clean when you first opened it.  As you made another meandering lap by the front door you stopped when you heard raised voices.

Creeping closer you peeked through the window expecting to see maybe a group of religious nuts or protestors, something you’d unfortunately dealt with before.  Instead what you saw was the Cardinal and a few of the Ghouls seemingly arguing with each other.  Not really wanting them to continue making a scene on the sidewalk, you swung the door open to ask if everything was ok, but Copia’s raised voice stopped you in your tracks.

“For the last time I’m not a virgin!”

Copia’s back was to you as he faced the other two, but you could see him tense up when the sound of the bell on your door registered.  One of the Ghoul’s immediately hung their head, the other covered their mouth with their hands to try and hide their laughter.  Honestly you wanted to laugh too, you could only imagine the look on poor Copia’s face.  He slowly turned around and his shoulders sagged when he saw you.  

“Good to know, Cardinal.”  You felt a little bad teasing him, but you also could have said something much, much worse.  He was lucky you liked him so much.  “Come on in!  I’ve got your order ready for you.”

You heard him mutter something to the Ghouls but they all trailed behind you inside the store.  The Ghouls took off to different corners, but Copia stayed behind you.  When he cleared his throat you turned nearly causing him to run into you.

“Cara mia, I’m not.  Uh, you know.”

“You’re not what?”

“A virgin.”

You gave him a soft smile, really it didn’t matter to you either way.  Experienced lovers were great but being able to teach someone was also great.  Really, really great.

“Oh well, it’s ok if you are.  I won’t judge.”

Copia fidgeted for a moment and reached a hand out to rest it on the nearby butt plug display.  The damn thing wasn’t very sturdy to do that, which he should know, so a few of the plugs fell off and clattered onto the floor.  You dug your teeth into your lip to stop from laughing, watching as he hurried to pick them up and get them back where they belonged.

“That’s very kind of you, but again, I’m not.”

He got everything back in place and then brushed his hands on the front of his suit, awkwardly resting them on his hips when he was done.  You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander over him for a moment because really, those suits were a gift.  When Copia cleared his throat you quickly looked back up at his face.

“Ok.  Um, cool.”

God, why were you still talking about this?  Cool?  He would never agree to go on a date with you now.  You sighed and gave him a brief smile before turning to get behind the counter and grab the church’s delivery.  ‘Yeah it’s super cool you aren’t a virgin, here’s the ten bottles of lube you ordered, have a great time’.  You were such an idiot.  Grunting you picked up the box and then set it on the counter. 

“Uh, actually, I had something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”  You glanced up from the box, watching as he nervously rubbed his hands together.  What could he possibly be nervous about?  He opened his mouth to continue but one of the Ghoul’s jogged up and slammed something down next to the box.

“Hey Boss, found the tentacle dildo you wanted.”

Copia immediately let loose a string of Italian and shoved the Ghoul away.

“For fucks sake Dewdrop would you piss off?!  Aether!”  The other Ghoul hurried up to the front, taking one look at the dildo then at the other Ghoul and sighed.

Aether grabbed the box and shoved it into Dewdrop’s hands.  He then grabbed the Ghoul by his shoulders and started pulling him out of the store.  Dewdrop was dragging and kicking his feet as he went, one kick sending the butt plug display flying and really, maybe you should just put that thing out of its misery.  You looked over to Copia, his cheeks as red as his suit as he looked at all the plugs scattered across the floor.  Again.

“Kids these days, huh?”  

Copia snorted and when you made your way around to pick everything up he leaned down and started helping you.

“I’m sorry, cara mia.  The Ghouls are a little uh, rambunctious.”

“No worries, we’re old hands at fixing this thing by now.”

You turned to smile at him, your smile growing when you saw that his cheeks were still red.  He picked up the last plug on the floor, but stared down at it for a moment before speaking.

“I feel like I’m always bringing chaos with me when I visit.”  Copia nibbled his lip briefly before handing the plug over.  “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

Oh if he only knew.  You stared at him for a moment, your mind going a mile a minute as you tried to get the courage to ask him out.

“Coffee?”

“Oh, si!  I can go get you a coffee!”

Shit.  You took a deep breath and reached a hand out to touch his arm.

“No, I meant, do you want to get a coffee…with me?”  Copia stood there for a moment, his mouth open and you instantly had a sinking feeling in your gut.  Fuck.  Ok, fuck.  That wasn’t what he meant, of course he would just want to go get you a coffee.  “I’m sorry, Cardinal!  That was unprofessional of me.  Just forget I said anything, let me get your receipt.”

As you started to rush by he shot out a hand and grasped your elbow.  You looked up at him, taking in his handsome features for what you hoped wasn’t the last time.

“What if I don’t want to?  Forget it, I mean.”

It took every ounce of self control you had not to start doing a little dance.

“So you do want to get coffee?  Together?”

“Si, si.  But I was actually hoping we could have dinner instead, would that be alright?”

Holy fuck.

“Yes!  I mean yes, dinner would be great.”

“Bene!  Molto bene.”  Copia was positively beaming at you and you probably looked exactly the same.  “Would tomorrow night work, cara?”

“Yes, that would be great.  I close at 6 so anytime after that.”

“Okie dokie, I will be here at 6.  Then dinner.”

You were afraid to open your mouth again and let out the ridiculous screeching sound you wanted to make so you just smiled wider and hurried off toward the counter.  When you turned with the receipt in your hand you bumped right into his chest, not realizing he had followed you.

“Oh, sorry Cardinal!”

Ugh, could you embarrass yourself any more today?  Copia didn’t seem bothered though, he took the receipt from you with one hand and with the other he pulled your hand to his mouth.  He placed a quick kiss on the back, smiling softly at you after.

“It’s Copia to you, cara mia.”  He dropped another kiss onto your hand and then slowly started walking backwards toward the door.  Copia looked a little smug watching as your hand remained frozen in the air.  “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

You were grinning like an idiot now, barely holding in the dreamy sigh that was desperately wanting to come out.  Copia gave you an equally goofy smile back and then spun on his heel to leave.  Unfortunately he ran right into the display again and once more your floor was covered in neon colored butt plugs.

Ok, maybe not exactly like a Hallmark movie, but close enough for you.

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

my masterlist

my ao3

[imtheiliad]

BUT YOU DREAM SOME EPIPHANY [1.6k | coma dream | pre-relationship/platonic] {ao3}

a/n: all i have to say for myself is that i wrote the foundation of this in a fugue state on the bus home from work the other day (not when i was stuck for 4 hours) and it is in general not the coma dream fic that anybody wants it to be i don't think lol. so no screaming at me for it cause i did warn you, well there is one moment that e expect screaming about. and the title is from epiphany by taylor swift but only cause it had the word dream and epiphany in it which is related. spoilers for 6x10 and 11 i guess? i no longer never say never for spec fic, but this is highly unlikely. enjoy!

There are moments in life when things slow down. when you can know what’s going to happen as you watch in slow motion. Sometimes it’s happening to you. and sometimes to others. The nature of being a firefighter is you see those moments a lot. Both versions. and Buck had his fair share of them. That's what takes him by surprise, because one moment he’s in his turnouts under pouring skies, and the next he’s in a kitchen. And it’s warm, there are flowers on the table, curtains with dainty flowers on them. But something feels off. He's wearing a thick green sweater and a button up and some khakis. No shoes since he’s in the house. He misses his jeans and sweatshirts. He tentatively takes a step, peering out the window. Outside there is a literal white picket fence with a manicured lawn and a few planter boxes filled with blooming flowers. He looks further up to the sidewalk. Maddie had taken him here once.

—  His mother is in the kitchen with him now, she looks the same. Unloading bags of groceries, setting aside a few things that looked like they could be ingredients for a meal.   There’s another man, sitting at the table, he has dirty blonde hair that slightly curls at the edges, bright blue eyes, and a sharp jawline. 

“You know, you should think about selling that car yours before the wedding, Evan. Trade it in for something more sensible.”

“Mom-“ the other man says.

And a strike of recognition sparks as he looks at the man again. He’s looking at Daniel— he bears a striking resemblance to himself. Honestly could be twins if he didn’t have those few years on Buck.

“It really is a shame Ali couldn’t make it this trip, we were so looking forward to getting some details ironed out,” his Mother continues on– still the bubbly optimist Buck thinks sarcastically. 

So he’s marrying Ali in this upside down world.

“Yeah, she’s uh sorry she couldn’t make it— you know how her schedule is,” he chokes out remembering Ali's travels involved in her work. —

His fingers twitch, itching to find out what Eddie's doing in this one. And maybe run to him. He misses everyone.

Something tells him to open his phone and navigate to Facebook of all places and enter “Eddie Diaz” in the search bar. The profile is pretty much devoid of activity. There’s a profile picture, something unsettling about it but Buck can’t put his finger on it. He scrolls through his friends and reluctantly clicks Helena's name.

The page is a shrine to her grandson. He scrolls, the feed highlighting one comment from Eddie on a recent picture. Eddie Diaz He’s gotten so big. Tell him happy birthday for me.

It’s like a stab to his stomach. Gotten so big, as if he hadn’t seen him row in front of his eyes.  Tell him, like he wasn’t there. The realization hits him and it settles in the pit of his stomach. He wasn't there. Eddie wasn't there with Chris.

He swipes over to his own profile, the most recent post a picture of him and Ali— her hair in a half updo cradling the side of his face, a delicate ring on her finger. There are comments and likes from hundreds of people— none of whom he recognizes.

Apparently they live in Denver of all places. Where he is a teacher, for what seems to be young kids. That’s something that warms his heart. At least he wasn’t an insurance adjuster or something absolutely soul sucking. Also teaching comes with clipboards. 

— Maddie walks in the door, still in her scrubs. And he hadn’t realized he had been so worried about her until he scanned every inch of her for anything— finding nothing he wraps her in a tight hug holding back tears. At least one of them escaped something in this life.

“Sorry I missed dinner, shift was nuts!” She sighs, dramatically flopping onto the couch. 

And he can’t stop looking at her.

“Mom and Dad already in bed?”

He just nods, pouring her a glass of wine. 

“Danny being the goody two shoes he is and cleaning the kitchen?”

He laughs and nods again. 

“Okay so, tell me the story again. I need to know every detail of how my little brother got someone to marry him before I could be in a stable relationship for more than a month or two.” she takes a long sip, “I mean I’m hopeful with Eddie but he’s also dealing with a lot.” 

Buck nearly chokes on his beer, because she couldn’t mean– there was no way. But something in his heart twinges, telling him that this universe was cruel and unusual. And that thought should be entertained as the truth. 

And because he’s supposes he’s a masochist, he replies, “Well, I think that warrants you telling me more about him than me, a story I will probably tell over and over again until I die.” 

Maddie shoots him a glare. 

“Yeah Maddie, will we be meeting this Eddie anytime soon?” Daniel asks with a glint in his smile. 

“If he lasts until the engagement party,”she points a finger at Buck, “I will bring him. We could do a whole road trip and meet his family down in Texas too.” 

“Wow, quite the test of the relationship.” 

If he has to “meet” Eddie at his engagement party Buck might throw up.  —

“Buck, you have to find home,” Daniel says. 

“I- what? I guess Ali and I-“ he sputters trying to come up with something to say. 

“No, Buck. You don’t see it?” 

“No, I–” 

“You’re telling me all of this makes sense to you? That I'm alive? That you’re engaged to Ali? That Maddie and Eddie are a couple? That he left Chris?” 

“How did-?” 

“Buck-“ 

“I am the only person he told about how–” he takes a beat as something pulls in his chest, “This isn’t real.” 

Daniel shakes his head. 

“I need to- Oh God I gotta- Fuck. How do I-“ he looks toward the door, and leaps for it. The handle doesn’t budge, “How do I get out of here?” he practically begs Daniel. 

“I don’t know, I’m just a projection of you. What you think I may have been.” 

“But you–” 

“Just the messenger. You thought of that.” 

–- He looks down and his clothes have changed, a clean starched button up and slacks. The house is lit in soft warm light, sparkling decorations laid out on the table, poised and ready. Several plastic champagne glasses waiting to be filled rest on the dining room table. 

He finds his way back to the kitchen where he finds Maddie, she’s sitting at the table carefully arranging some paper flowers into a bouquet. 

“Can’t believe you actually caved and let Mom have the party here.”

“It was either this or the Wedding and there is no way that’s happening, so we made a compromise,” he replies concocting the believable line from thin air. 

She hums. 

“I guess that ruins your big road trip with Eddie though?” 

“Yeah, he’ll be here soon. His shift ran a little over.” 

Oh, so this was happening. 

His stomach churns. He knows this is all a concoction of his subconscious mind, but the mere idea that he doesn’t know Eddie. It was the weirdest combination of a dream and a nightmare, and it all felt so real. 

He’s pulled from the reverie by the doorbell sounding throughout his ears. And a familiar warm honey voice drifts throughout the house and there’s a tug at his heart. 

Maddie perks up at the sound the same as Buck. 

He can’t bear to follow her out the kitchen door. 

“Hey there, my Buckette.” 

He seriously wants to throw up. This was the worst timeline even if it was a fabrication. 

“C’mon help me out with a project in the kitchen.” 

Buck braces himself, and he watches in slow motion as they walk in, hand in hand. 

He finally takes Eddie in, he mostly looks the same, still with kind eyes but missing a spark and warmth. Wearing a soft henley and jeans, he looks out of place from the rest of the house that’s clearly decked out for a cocktail party. 

Their eyes meet and it’s the only thing that’s made even the slightest bit of sense the entire time he’s been here. He still wants to throw up though. 

“Eddie, this is my brother, the groom himself.” 

“Hey, so you are the famous Evan then,” Eddie replies, holding out his hand. 

The name sounds strange from his lips. Stilted and sharp, with a cold unfamiliarity, coming from a place of unknowing rather than place of care. 

Buck hates it. 

He doesn’t know how to speak anymore. So he reaches and takes Eddie’s hand. 

And it’s like a bolt of lightning coursing through him, wrapping around his hand and weaving up his arm– and there’s air in his lungs and his eyes snap open. 

The warmth around his hand is still there, and it’s tighter. He grabs back with as much strength as he has. And he finds those eyes again. And they are warm and kind, with that light shining and burning behind them. 

He can’t speak. Can’t scream. So he just lets the tears pool and fall. 

“Hey, you’re okay,” his voice is fragile in  a way that Buck has never heard before. And it sounds like he’s saying it for himself more than for Buck. 

Moments later they are no longer alone, but their gaze is fixed across the room. 

Find your home.  Oh.

[scottst]

FULL NAME . vivian marie costello . NICKNAMES . vi , viv , vivi ( by close friends & siblings ) . AGE . twenty-seven . DATE OF BIRTH .   october 11th . TITLE . the saccharine . INFP . the mediator . MORAL ALIGNMENT . chaotic good . 3w2 . the enchanter . OCCUPATION . first year orthopedic surgery resident . MUSIC . after love - anyma , delilah montagu .  PINTEREST. ಇ

CHAPTER ONE : FOUNDATION .

SHE NEVER KNEW HER MOTHER’S NAME.  or her father’s face . she’d never known that her mother had a beautiful singing voice or that her father was a natural athlete . she only knew that they were sixteen when she was born , and that teenagers didn’t make good parents .  vivian only learned so much when she was thirteen , though she’d known for quite some time that she didn’t quite look like she fit in her family . children , after all , could be cruel , and they never hesitated to point it out after her parents came around . not that she ever minded . in fact , when she ultimately asked her parents , it was out of curiosity more than anything else .

it wasn’t like she was going to complain , either . she was adopted when she was an infant . . . and this life was all she’d ever known . it was a good one , too . they lived in lincoln city in a darling blue house with a literal white picket fence . she shared a bathroom with her sister , but never had to share her room . she got new school supplies every year and new school clothes every august and january . the big trees in the front yard changed with the seasons , and the costellos were keen on decorating for every holiday . there were three costello kids : vivian , xavier  , and lydia . . . the youngest of the three being the only biological child . the baby . the favorite . though all three of them were worthy of praise in one way or another .  vivian was creative . . . and insanely smart . elijah was a powerhouse in the hockey field . and lydia ? well , lydia was perfect . perfect blonde curls . perfect blue eyes . perfect sweet disposition . the costellos were known around town for their perfect , perfect family .

only . . . things weren’t really all that perfect , were they ? no , that was just a mere image that reflected nothing of what went on behind that white picket fence . her parents’ marriage was strained at best , financial troubles putting a crushing weight on their shoulders . that pressure trickled down , and perfect became a requirement in the costello household . perfect grades . perfect attendance . first prize . first place . top of your class . top university . required . xavier’s natural talent and dazzling work ethic soon became inadequate , and he was sixteen when he tried steroids for the first time . vivian had to be at the very tip-top of her class and have ample volunteer experience and keep up with extracurriculars and , and , and . . . lydia’s beauty was everything . if her siblings had to be perfect , she was required to look it . the caveat always remained , though , that lydia got off the hook a lot easier than the other two . vivian was the oldest , afterall . elijah the only boy .  

LOVE in the costello family wasn’t given . it was earned . . . you had to be flawless to deserve love .

CHAPTER TWO : WALLS

VIVIAN NEARLY DIED TRYING TO FIT THAT MOLD. perfect wasn’t easy , but it was attainable if she stretched herself thin . her parents’ love felt conditional , and there was a small , foreign voice in the back of her mind that was louder than ever : you never fit anyway . . . so you have to work twice as hard to be what they want you to be . you have to be worthy of it . so vivian learned to do it all . student council president . captain of the local swim team . member of the debate team . top of her class , valedictorian when she graduated . her parents wanted her to be a doctor or a lawyer . . . so she would be , nevermind her own love for music . in a perfect world , she thought she might join an orchestra . . . she’d get her degree in music theory and continue playing violin on the side . but this wasn’t a perfect world . the only perfection was found in her transcripts . . . a list of accomplishments that later got her a full ride through college . she’d study biology , pre - med . 

vivian swam competitively all the way through . . . kept her grades up . . . kept a job . . . and she was burning the candle at both ends , all for a silent look of pride that was never quite put into words . all to be worthy of love . every action was a way of saying ‘ look at me . the daughter you chose . it was not a mistake , choosing me . ’ 

she was perfect . 

on the surface . 

inside , a storm brewed . anxiety churned in her stomach like white noise on a television , and when she was seventeen , everything changed . she knew she shouldn't have been there in the first place , so late at night , surrounded by a crowd of kids she hardly saw around , but her neighbor had a way with words that made her believe she deserved to live a little . just as quick as she took in her first breath of air , the ripples of hope disappeared after a splash of water .

[tw anxiety, ideations ] vivian was never the same after sneaking out that night . for the days to come , she continued to think her heart was failing . . . that her lungs were collapsing under the weight of the fear . it felt like she might’ve been dying following official news of chris’s disappearance , the little stability she clung onto in the face of her parent's demands was shaken to its core . all her brain could truly think was : if it ends now , at least i’ll get some rest . [tw end]

it wasn’t her first brush with anxiety , but it was the worst it had ever been . the only problem was . . . the costellos didn’t believe in therapy . or mental health . or anything other than pulling yourself up by your bootstraps , sucking it up , and powering through . so in high school , she couldn’t get help to process the grief of losing her neighbor . . . and in college , she had to unlearn her parents’ ideology . if she didn’t , she might’ve truly ended up in a dire condition . . .

CHAPTER THREE : PAVEMENT

SHE NEVER STOPPED TRYING TO BE PERFECT but she did learn to slow down . . . even if her parents seemed to be displeased by it all . she used her mcat score for leverage : near perfect . a world of options sat at her fingertips , and deferring for a year wouldn’t make those opportunities go away . her mother thought a gap year would be lazy . her father thought she was taking the easy way out . but her siblings were supportive . . . vivian knew that if she didn’t try to find herself now , she’d be dragged under by the current of her family’s expectations , drowned by the memory of her mistakes . 

she soon left to california from oregon , where she would spend her gap year . she got a job , learned to drive , moved into an apartment all on her own . away from home , away from the reminders of where she went wrong . for the first time , she didn’t have to be anywhere , be anything , be anyone . . . and she found herself at a loss . reflecting on her own childhood , she couldn’t remember what she liked . what she liked to do . what music she was into . what her favorite food was . whether she preferred to watch movies or read books . whether she was actually a morning person or a night owl . truth be told , at twenty-three , she had no fucking clue who she was or what she wanted .

but that’s what your twenties are for , her brother told her . 

so she spent the year falling in love with herself . she began playing the violin again , and she was good at it . she found that she preferred quiet cafes to los angeles’ nightlife . . . and that she enjoyed a casual date every now and then . she was a reader , not a movie goer  . . . and while nighttime was exhilarating , there was nothing quite like the quiet of the world in the hour before the sun rose , the hour before the city came back to life , when the crickets were all you could really hear . 

but she was on a ticking clock . . . and when a year was up , she had no choice but to enroll in medical school . all of the work she’d put into herself began to fade away , but at least her mother called more often . at least her father was excited to talk about her day . at least they didn’t avoid talking about her at family functions . she got a taste of what it was to be loved again . to have someone that’s proud of you . . . and so she began to spread herself thin . 

now that she’s finished her last year of med school , she isn’t sure she loves it the way she’s supposed to . . . the candle is burning at both ends . . . faster now than ever considering chris’s disappearance is thrusted back into the limelight of her focus .  she returns to oregon under the pretense of spending time with her family before starting her residency , but only she knows the truth . and only she knows whoever sent that message holds the key to her peace .

CHAPTER FOUR : DOORS

GROWING UP , SHE WAS CURIOUS. she asked questions with wide eyes and listened to answers attentively , committing them to memory . vivian always had a gentle way about her . not necessarily delicate , not necessarily nurturing . . . but gentle , like the fluttering of a butterfly’s wings or the warmth of a light summer breeze rustling tree leaves . gentle . 

she has a way with people , something about that gentleness and curiosity that makes you feel comfortable opening up . she’d ask you a dozen questions about yourself and change the subject when you asked about her . it was always easy to be around her , but it was just as difficult to know her . she wasn’t as boisterous as her sister or as charming as her brother , but when she did speak , it was clever or kind or insightful . she could make you laugh , and the melodic sound of her own laugh in harmony with yours would leave a flush on anyone’s cheeks . 

she’s always been nonstop . busy busy busy . she didn’t make time for herself . . . or for anyone else , for that matter . that was another reason why it was hard to know vivian costello , it seemed she never stopped moving . the only time she ever truly stood still was when hurt shot through her body , skittering down her spine and rendering her immobile . dark brown eyes would widen , and despite the small smile that would press at her lips , you could always see it in her gaze . it was easy to hurt her feelings ; she’d always been the most sensitive of the costello kids . it was a double edged sword : she knew how to interact with other peoples’ emotions , but she didn’t dare confront her own . 

she is loyal to her people , sometimes to a fault . and sometimes to her own detriment . even in heartache , she would remain loyal to people she loves . or loved , once . 

there’s a tranquility about her , not necessarily one that she feels in herself , but one you can find from being around her . there’s something about the quiet that calms the storm inside . . . and she’s always been a great person to be quiet with . comfortable silence is something she knows all too well , and she doesn’t mind it . 

she isn’t quick to anger , but when she does get angry , it’s dark and stormy . it’s silent anger , and it’s static . it might last a day or it might last a month . the quietness makes it unpredictable , and though there are times she has wanted to lash out . . . she’s only done so a handful of times . usually , she swallows the thunder and lets it run its course in the center of her chest . she handles it on her own . 

she isn’t selfless , per say , but she does have a gentle way of loving . to be loved by vivian is to know softness and kindness . it’s being wrapped in a warm blanket when you fall asleep on the couch or waking up to your favorite mug already filled with coffee . she might not always say as much , but she knows how to show her love . 

. · * vivian , above all else , is still trying to figure herself out .

CHAPTER FIVE : HOME

i will not be adding wanted connections because i don't want to make this any longer than it already is ( i.e, i'm lying , i don't have any connections written yet ) . but , i'd be happy to brainstorm together , fill in your wanted connections , or just simply go off of chemistry ! i also added a wanted plots section in vivian's pinterest board !

[korasonata]

So, we are fairly convinced that I in fact live in a haunted house. I’ve lived here for almost 10 months now. We moved mid September in the middle of the fall - an OLD old house with big bay windows, white picket fences, french doors, large yard, private garden, porch, basement, and cheap rent. Seemed a relatively good deal at the time.

I remember the day we saw it for the first time. Or more precisely, I remember the drive home where me and my roommate had poked fun about the house probably being haunted, had joked about burning sage and whatnot. You know, joking around as you do. When I tell you, the kind of shit we put up with from day ONE.

Now, I’ll start off by saying that my house has precisely 2 bedrooms, both of which have had their moments, but I will start off with mine. Now, my bedroom is very small. A tiny little shoebox of a room that has an insanely high ceiling and very limited floor space because my house is still heated by radiators and they are freaking huge. There is one small window that doesn’t open. To the left of this window, on the adjacent wall, is a tiny Coraline esk door, the top of which sits at about waist height from the floor up.

It is iterally bolted to the wall.

I’ve never opened this door, because I’m not daft, but I moved my dresser in front of it to block its entrance and I’ve never had any problems.

Although I should clarify, I’ve never had any problems with the door. The rest of my room however…

The first day we moved in was when we had our first incident. I was in my new room, I had no bed, no shelves, but at the time possessed precisely 1 dresser and a suitcase, which I was unpacking. My roommate was sitting in the living room on the couch just outside my door, reading. I was just folding some clothes and putting them in my dresser when I heard a loud THUNK from behind me, where I promptly turned towards the source of the sound. When I turned around I found a long, white candlestick in the middle of my bedroom floor, half used, and very clearly not mine. Now, I cannot stress enough that this room had no ledges, no shelves, there was literally nowhere this thing could have fallen from. My roommate was still reading on the couch, but she had looked up at the sound too, and she was just as confused and weirded out as I was.

This was just the start.

The second incident happened on my third night there, and also coincidentally my first night alone in the house. This incident moves us to the bathroom, where I had consistently been hearing scratching in the walls late at night. Our house is old enough that is doesn’t have a fan in the bathroom, but instead has a really tiny window which you can open to vent out steam. I’d had the window open because I had showered earlier that night. It was about 12-1:00 in the morning and I had gone into the bathroom to brush my teeth and get ready for bed when I heard even more obnoxious scratching coming from inside the bathtub. I walked over to investigate, thinking maybe an animal was under the pipes or something when I heard something outside the window. The sound of digging, but not like an animal. Like the sounds of a metal shovel scooping up gravel. I’d checked the next morning and nothing looked disturbed. But this was not the last time I heard that sound. The scratching continued nightly for the next 3 months as well.

By week 3 my roommate had started having this recurring dream about her bedroom. Now her bedroom, unlike mine, is actually quite massive. It has the same high ceilings, but it has enough floor space to fit a king sized bed and full bedroom set, bookshelves, grand piano, possibly some couches and entertainment unit. It’s huge. The floor is also spongy as all hell. Every room except the bathroom and kitchen have the same floor - thin hardwood planks that had to have been over 100 years old. You could tell it was rotted underneath just by the feel, but her particular room was sunk down a full foot into the floor, and not by design. Like the supports had just kind of given out and the whole floor space had gone with it. Her room was also always infested with spiders. She hated spiders.

Her first dream reflected this fear. Her dream consisted of her lying in her bed where she recounts that the floor had started to swell. The wooden floorboards had started to expand out into a big bubble and when it popped she had gone to stare into the pit it had created. 2 large, dead, spiders had been thrown out and hit her in the chest, and she recounts that she had woken up suddenly, feeling like there was a weight against her chest. She had this same dream with different iterations of dead animals being thrown from the pit. Mice, rats, possums. Every night she woke up feeling like there had been a weight against her chest. On the final night she says she had found a man. A homeless man at the bottom of the pit, alive, amidst a sea of dead animals - there was a homeless shelter on the next street over. He asked her to let him stay. Begged and pleaded and grovelled with her to let him stay, to which she apologized profusely, saying over and over again that she was sorry but he couldn’t stay there, but she promised to help him find someplace to stay. 2 dead possums were thrown from the pit of their own accord. She once again woke up with a weight on her chest, but she never had the dream again after that.

About a month after that I was away from home. I had gone up to my cottage for the weekend, so she was by herself. I woke up one morning to 5 missed calls from my roommate panicking because the house had been making noises. She was yelling about something being in the walls. She complained about scratching sounds and really loud banging noises that sounded like knocking.

Some time in December I was woken up one night. I had woken up because I had heard voices. I remember sitting there with my eyes closed and hearing this kind of murmuring of voices from somewhere by my wall. At this point I remember feeling so exhausted that I didn’t even care. I remember squinting my eyes shut tighter and trying to ignore them because I was so tired that I just could not even bring myself to care about disembodied voices in my room. I remember feeling frozen in this sort of stasis for a while before the voices spoke again closer to my head. There were 2 female voices, the first of which I did not grasp what was said, only that the phrase spoken sounded like a question, and then the second voice replied “just one more”. Following this there were 3 swift knocks on my wall, as if someone had struck it with an open palm, and I bolted awake suddenly, startled by the sound, and yet feeling very well rested strangely.

These were isolated incidents, but there were several recurring things that happened far more frequently, like the scratching in the walls that occurred nightly like clockwork, or the knocking or banging sounds that sometimes, but not always, accompanied this. There was a night light in my bathroom that had come with the house that had no switches or buttons, that up until the 3rd week of living there we did not realize was actually motion activated because it had just been on all the time. But there were other things.

For the first 5 months, the lights in my kitchen flickered a lot. There was nothing wrong with them, they just seemed to do this whenever we were in the kitchen and had the lights on. It used to freak out any guests we had over a lot, but we had just gotten used to it. Sometime in the middle of winter it just stopped. We haven’t had any issues with the lights since.

Very occasionally I would be doing the dishes and then suddenly the basement door would pop open on its own - a door that had hinges and a latch and was also very difficult to open. It was very stiff, so you had to really heave on this thing to get it open, and yet it would just pop open on its own if we didn’t have it locked. This happened on several occasions, and you could hear when it did if you were in another room - it made this really loud, deep banging sound because it was so stiff and you had to really force it open.

There’s a unit above us as well. We live in the main floor of a house, and someone else rents upstairs, but the upper unit is actually completely separate from us. It has its own entrance around the back and there is no link between the two. They were selling both units when we moved in, but the upper one sat empty for a while - we had about 3 months of the house to ourselves before another tenant moved in. Now, I’ve never been in the upper unit, I don’t know what it looks like, but every night like clockwork a light would come on in the upper left hand window. We heard footsteps above us all the time. Something we heard very frequently was what sounded like heavy furniture being dragged across the floor - this would go on for about an hour and then stop.

It was an empty unit. Nobody lived there.

This happened several times when the new tenant moved in as well, it was just easier to excuse because there was actually someone living there now. The new tenant was a single woman that lived alone. Often we would be sitting in the living room and be hearing all manner of crashing and dragging of furniture for hours and we would go “wtf is she doing up there” only to discover she wasn’t even home.

The latest incident happened just a couple days ago. I hadn’t been home in 3 days, and so the first night I came home I had gone down into the basement to do some laundry. Now, I feel it’s important to note that this took place in the basement for several reasons, the primary one being that none of the above has ever scared me. Floating candlesticks being thrown at me from across the room? That’s fine. Doors that open on their own? Child’s play. Scratching, banging, scraping, dragging, disembodied voices in the walls? None of it has ever scared me.

The basement scares me.

Or I don’t know if scared is the right word, but it definitely makes me uneasy, and for good reason. See, if you thought the rest of the house was a bit decrepit, it doesn’t even hold a candle to the state of my basement. To get there you have to go down this VERY rickety wooden staircase that’s so steep it’s almost completely vertical. There’s holes going into the side of it, pipes that go right through the steps. As you get to the bottom there is a broken window on the left that is so dirty no amount of scrubbing could ever hope to get it clean. There’s holes and cracks in the walls filled with what looks like a dark sludge. Holes in the ceiling with all manner of hanging and severed wires draping down. Rotted insulation. Rotted wood. Spiders everywhere. Cobwebs cover literally every surface that isn’t the floor or the washing machine. Nothing down there is up to building code.

There is also 2 VERY sketchy side wings of this basement.

There is the main area right at the bottom of the stairs that has my washer and dryer, an old utility sink, and a half collapsed, half rotted set of wooden shelves that I use to store my laundry detergent. The light switch at the top of the stairs connects to this area, however the 2 separate side wings do not. It’s a bit difficult to describe, but if you go down the stairs and turn right and walk all the way to the other wall, you hit a sort of T intersection where you can go left or right and go around the wall on either side. Around the right wall is my circuit breaker that is lit with one of those old clicker light switches on strings. It’s a small space, so that side isn’t as bad. The other side however looks straight out of a horror film.

The other side has a bigger space. There’s a machine in there that takes up almost the whole room that I’m going to assume is a water softener but I’m actually not sure because the water softener I had at the house I grew up in looked nothing like this, but I don’t know what else it could possibly be. The foyer of this wing when we moved in was full of old rotted and broken shelves. There’s all manner of cobwebs everywhere - triple the amount of the main room. The wall is also wood here. I’m going to assume this was once the base of a crawl space that has since been very shoddily blocked off. It looks like they patched it with old pieces of wood fence, not even legitimate boards, also rotted because of course they are. It’s literally falling apart.

Some of the fence pieces have fully collapsed, so there is plenty of cracks and gaps, but behind it is just blackness. It’s like the mouth of some weird cave. If I looked in the gaps for too long I always got this weird lingering feeling like something was watching me. And it was cold. This room was cold unlike the rest of the house - I mean the rest of the house was cold, but nothing like this. The entire room is also dark at all times. There is 1 light switch which is on the opposite side of the room. Meaning you have to walk through this entire maze of machine, cobweb infested, freezing void wall encased room to get to the lights - a single lightbulb on a pull string that only lights up about 2 feet around it, so the majority of the room is still pitch black anyway.

We don’t go in this room.

I digress.

Anyway, I hadn’t been home in 3 days. I went down to do some laundry. 2 steps down I noticed something odd - a trail of wet footprints going down to the basement. Now, I didn’t particularly question this at first. My roommate had been home, so I figured she had simply gone down to do some laundry earlier. Nothing overly suspicious. It wasn’t until I went to go back up again that I started to question them. See as I had noted, the trail of footprints I had seen had gone all the way down the stairs, a clear impression on each step.

Down, but not up.

The main laundry area had been empty. We didn’t go into the side wings. It was then that I had the sudden realization that while I had seen my roommates car in the driveway earlier, I had in fact not seen my roommate once since I had gotten home.

I get to the top of the stairs, a little bit concerned. Afraid she was sitting somewhere in the left side wing murdered or something, I was frankly a little bit afraid to look, and was not about to investigate because this is how people die in horror movies. So I texted her. For peace of mind really, just to make sure she wasn’t, you know, dead. Just a quick “hey, you’re upstairs right?” She replied almost instantly with a yes she was just in her room. Relieved, obviously my first reaction is just “oh good, I just saw the trail of wet footprints going down to the basement and just wanted to be sure.”

Her response?

“I haven’t been down to the basement in 2 days.”

[lucidicer]

13% and 17% for evuska <3

13%. How has your character's personality changed from childhood to adulthood?

her childhood was a lot more white picket fence than it is now, at least as white picket fence as it can be when you live in poverty with a mentally unstable mother. she was a very clingy kid, especially with her father, and she had a lot of love to give and was very expressive about how she was feeling. as a baby she was absolutely always begging to be picked up and would cry if you put her down for any reason. as an adult its like everything turned grey, the reality of a lot of things sunk in when her mother overdosed and they got separated, she's still someone with a lot of emotions and love to give but the way in which that manifests is very different now. her father can still see everything despite how reserved and stoic she became and she hates it but also a part of her is grateful that her emotions aren't completely gone from outside view

17%. Does your character ever put someone else's needs in front of their own? And if there are only rare exceptions, why is that the case?

literally all the damn time, anyone would look at her and assume the opposite especially because of how she carries herself and interacts with people but her one driving force is her family. her lil fucked up family. she risked her own freedom for those she cares about

[vecnasrevengerp]

welcome home NANCY WHEELER (keira knightley fc)

hope you brought your tissues with you! be sure to check in at home or to your hotel and don’t forget to always look over your shoulder. this is hawkins, after all. 

basics

[KEIRA KNIGHTLEY, CISFEMALE, SHE/HER] When’s the last time anyone heard anything about [NANCY WHEELER]? Old friends remember them as [INVESTIGATIVE & BRAVE] but also [UPTIGHT & METICULOLUS], no wonder they’re still known as [THE DETECTIVE] around town. Today, in 2006, they are [THIRTY-NINE] and some people say they remind them of [A FRESHLY INKED PEN DABBING ONTO A NOTEPAD, RUNNING AWAY FROM HER OWN PROBLEMS, & KEEPING A HANDGUN ON HER AT ALL TIMES…. JUST IN CASE]. [lexi, 22, she/her, est].

biography

When Nancy Wheeler left for college, she had no intent of ever returning to Hawkins, Indiana for more than a holiday or a school break. After Will and El’s death and the defeat of Vecna, she felt like there was no place for her in Hawkins anymore. Mike was grieving in his own way (shutting her out), Jonathan was grieving in his own way (breaking up), and all she had was a one way ticket out of that hell hole. 

College was fun! Nancy built a little life for herself out there. She joined a sorority (much to Karen Wheeler’s happiness), eventually moving into their house come her sophomore year, became editor-in-chief of The Berkeley Beacon, had a shitty boyfriend, maintained a 4.0 GPA, and realized that maybe life could just be normal. There would always be the pang in her chest every time she returned to Hawkins that shit would hit the fan, but for four solid years, it didn’t.

After graduating with Latin honors (Summa cum laude, but who’s bragging?), she had plenty of job offers lined up, but took one at The New York Register. It was lesser known than The New York Times, but she wanted something smaller just to feel like she was making a difference. A few measly years in and Nancy was actually one of the top reporters, but she didn’t feel like she was fighting crime. As a teenager, she was fighting literal Demogorgon’s and Vecna. Reporting on petty crime and the happenings of such a big city just felt meaningless. So, she packed her bags and moved back to Hawkins. It had been years since anything happened in town, so she felt like it was a safe choice. Besides, Mike had just welcomed his son into the world and God knows he would need help.

When Mike was institutionalized, there was someone who needed to watch Luke. Nancy felt like the obvious choice. Karen was still in her prime, but her time for taking care of children was long past her, and Nancy was actually related to Mike with a decent paying job and a clean background. For just a few months, it was her and Luke. Despite not wanting children of her own, she took her role as Luke’s caretaker very seriously. It gave her a look at the life that her parents always wanted for her. A white picket fence, married to Steve Harrington, with a couple of kids, and a dog. It was a nice dream to live in for a handful of months, but it wasn’t her reality forever.

When Mike came home and Luke was no longer her number one priority, Nancy shifted her attention to The Watcher and, to be honest, she loves it. It’s exactly what she always wanted. Traveling and reporting on weird happenstances. It allows her to actually use her investigative prowess for something meaningful. If it wasn’t for how busy she was and for how arrogant Mike was, Nancy would take Luke in herself because… Well, to put it nicely, Mike’s doing a bit of a shit job (in Nancy’s opinion) in the parenting field. So, when she is home, Nancy tries to make it a priority to pick up Luke from school whenever Mike works late or if he has a school event, she’ll be in the front row. Being an aunt when Mike Wheeler is the father is a full time job!

time capsule

In 1983, Nancy Wheeler put her Tigers cheerleading uniform in the capsule. She had no better use for it since she quit the team earlier that year. Her mom had made her join the team and after Barb’s death, it just didn’t seem worth it to be a part of something she disliked. Besides, it felt like a right of passage after everything that happened that year. It felt like a way of her saying goodbye to her childhood and the girl she once was.

In 1984, Nancy Wheeler put Barb’s obituary in the time capsule. She had died the year prior, but it was only “confirmed” that year. Nancy hoped it would keep people remembering her when it was eventually dug up.

In 1985, Nancy put a Jazzercise coupon that she never used in the time capsule. Her mom gave it to her, but the summer of 1985, she was a bit more than preoccupied. So, into the time capsule it went. Maybe Jazzercise would survive the test of time. 

In 1986, Nancy threw her diary in the time capsule. She no longer had a use for it and honestly, the last thing she wanted to remember was how she pined for both Steve Harrington and Jonathan Byers in high school. 

stats

Please distribute up to fifty points among the following stats! Click here for more detailed instructions on stats.

Athletics (How Athletic are they?) - 1

Burglary (Can they swipe stuff?) - -1

Contacts (Do they know people with information?) - 3

Crafts (Sewing, mending, basket making, weaving, etc. etc.) - 2

Deceive (Are they a good liar?) - -2

Drive (like, actual driving ability) - 2

Empathy (On a scale of 1-10 how much of an empath are they?) - 2

Fight (Do they have hands?) - 0

Investigate (Can they sleuth?) - 3

Lore (Kinda like knowledge) - 1

Medicine (First Aid Essentially) - -2

Navigation (How good are they with a map/getting around?) - -3

Notice (Is your character observant?) - 2

Provoke (Are they a shit disturber?) - -3

Rapport (Are they charming? Can they do it on cammand?) - 2

Resourcefulness (MacGyver scale) - 1

Stealth (Are they sneaky?) - 3

Will (Tenacity) - 2

extras

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[whitepolaris]

Separated Together: Roslyn Historical Cemeteries

It's not really Cicely, Alaska: it just played it on TV. The town of Roslyn, in Kittitas County, is perhaps best known as its quirky alter ego in the 1990s television program: Northern Exposure. In real life, it's a quiet small town in the Cascade Mountains. Downtown buildings still evoke the nineteenth century, while some area homes are pure Norman Rockwell, complete with white picket fences. The population has remained steady, in the nine hundreds, for years.

In fact, here the dead outnumber the living 5 to 1.

This is because the town, founded in 1886, has kept generations of its deceased close to home. Specifically, they're in the forested hills along Pennsylvania Avenue, on a fifteen-acre expanse comprising twenty-six separate but contiguous cemeteries. Collectively, they're referred to as the Roslyn Historical Cemeteries.

By walking the grounds, there are two things you quickly realize about Roslyn's past. First, its coal-mining industry attracted a multinational, multiethnic mix of workers. Poles, Italians, Slovakians, and other nationalities were well represented, as were African Americans-all sharing the town in relative peace. Secondly, folks here loved organizing themselves into fraternal organizations: Along with the Masons, Odd Fellows, Moose, and Eagles, lesser known societies like the Red Men and Sokol had lodges in Roslyn.

These groups and nationalities all have dedicated cemetery space. Veterans have a place of honor right in front, in what resembles a mini-Arlington. Then there are general-purpose burial grounds like the Old and New City cemeteries. The Old City Cemetery is the most antique, with its family plots fenced in to keep out foraging animals.

Roslyn suffered its greatest disaster on May 10, 1892, when a mine explosion killed forty-five workers. The memory of this tragedy is literally etched in stone throughout the cemeteries on the grave markers of some of those killed.

Though the grounds are mostly well kept, many of the graves, particularly those corresponding to defunct lodges, are showing their age. This contributes to the "long ago and far away" aura permeating Roslyn in general and the cemeteries in particular.

[auroras-void]

Fuck specialization.

I am incredibly mediocre at like a 1,000 different things but there are no job titles that benefit from being mediocre at lots of things.

I wish I could just like, go to a completely different job every day, just whatever I feel like doing... Monday I do some computer programming, Tuesday I'm patching a roof, Wednesday I'm photographing a wedding, Thursday I'm fixing someone's car, Friday I'm 3d modeling someone's blueprints, Monday I'm an electrician, Tuesday I'm a journalist, Wednesday I'm a video editor, Thursday I'm a math tutor, Friday I'm a logo designer, Monday I'm...

Like these are all literally things I know how to do (to varying degrees), but I'm not good enough at or passionate enough about any of those things to turn (most) of them into a lifelong career, much less a fulfilling one, and many of them are just wildly unrelated, commiting to one closes the door on so many possibilities.

I just wish that my livelihood didn't have to be attached to my job and I could just spend my life finding places I can be an extra set of hands when needed and I didn't have to waste so much of my potential by forcing myself to burn a couple decades getting a degree and then mastering the highest paying skill I can tolerate.

Why can't I just learn everything do everything? Why can't I just spend my life completing sidequests? I'm not good at specializing, my brain just starts to rot the longer I stay doing one thing, I crave novelty. I want to be a part of an anarchist poly friendly commune and just befriend all the experts and show up in their workshops and offices and labs unannounced and start helping out with what I can. I don't want to be the best, I don't want to be an expert. I wanna be the interstitium of society, bringing ideas from distant fields back forth with me as I wander. Showing them to all sorts of people who are smarter than me who can turn them into creations no one else in their field would have ever thought of. Where I can go where I please, and where I don't ever have to worry about burning out and ruining a long career and losing my livelihood.

I don't want 2.5 kids a white picket fence cookie cutter house and a stable white collar job at the business factory. I want an overgrown eclectic apartment in a low-rise walkable neighborhood that looks like no other and an unstable tangle of queer platonic relationships that I can't describe but I know makes me feel like I am loved, where I choose to be productive not because that's what the collective weight of power and wealth and culture and even my survival force are forcing me to be worried about that every waking moment of my like, but instead because I choose to be, because I want to participate in my community, and build something together with them, because I want to learn something new, because I want to engage with the world around me, because that world is worth engaging in.

I'm at a beginning of life crisis right now, I haven't even started and all my options are terrible to me. I wish that it didn't have to be like this. I was not built for this.

I want time to figure myself out explore who I even am, I want the freedom to learn, and to fail, and to grow. The world that we've created scares me so much, it's not friendly to this line of reasoning. I even have the privilege to have a wider margin of error than most, but I still find myself petrified, unable to begin and take control of my life because I know failure has consequences in this world.

I have loving friends and family but I still feel so alone. I have a path forward, and a roof over my head, but it feels so hollow. I... had... a wonderful partner, but I still felt like I was missing so much. Why can't I just let myself be happy? Why can't I accept the reality that's in front of me for what it is?

I'm a mess and I feel so lost, I don't know how I fit into this world. I have to, somewhere, I just... idk...

[pookha]

Dream With Me

Chapter 1: June 1998

Rated Mature

Hermione wants more than just the white picket fence with Ron; she wants to make a difference. She always thought she’d be doing that in the Ministry, but finds instead that she wants to become a Healer. She doesn’t believe in soulmates, but when she discovers that Luna shares her dreams, literally shares her dreams, her foundations are shaken.

The war exposed Luna to her father’s lies. When she’s named co-Head Girl with Hermione Granger, she never expected to fall in love with her. When she discovers that Hermione shares the same dreams, literally shares the same dreams, her foundations are shaken.

An 8th year, Head Dorms story with dream sharing. After one early chapter partially from Harry’s POV, all the rest will be from Hermione’s POV.

All the scars are on the inside I'm not sure if there's anything left of me -Blue Oyster Cult-songwriters Michael Moorcock and Eric Bloom

TW: Violence, graphic violence referenced in nightmares, non-con referenced in a nightmare about Greyback (non explicit), PTSD.

A/N This story is complete and I will be updating approximately once a week. It will comprise 20 chapters.

Decisions are made to accept the offer of Auror or go back to Hogwarts. Harry, Ginny and Hermione all choose to go back to Hogwarts. Ron chooses to become an Auror. Hermione and Ron are unaware that while they are sitting in the garden at the Burrow discussing where their relationship is going, a paparazzo is photographing them.

June 1998

Hermione woke up to the first rays of the sun coming through a crack in the curtains; it spilled on Ron’s broad back just in front of her face. She leaned her head in slightly and kissed him on the base of his neck where it met his shoulders. He was warm and his skin smelled like him and her, freshly mown grass, spearmint, ink, parchment, and their mingled sweat. He stirred slightly at her lips, but didn’t awaken. She pulled back and looked around the room they shared. His boyhood Quidditch posters were scattered on the walls just like his Hogwarts books and laundry were tossed carelessly here and there. Their clothes mixed together in a pile on the floor, showing the haste with which they had gotten into bed the night before. Their wands rested on the table within arm’s reach. Hermione’s mouth twitched as she remembered Molly’s objections to her staying in the same room as Ron, but Hermione and Ron had just told her that was how it was going to be for now. Molly had been relieved when Harry announced he’d be taking Bill’s old room; she’d thought that maybe Harry was going to move into Ginny’s room. Sleeping with Ron had helped; the nightmares had mostly faded.

Hermione’s eyes flicked to the scroll of parchment on the desk with the wax seal broken. She knew it was Ron’s official offer from the Aurors and he was going to accept it. She could picture the same scroll in Harry’s hands as he sat at Bill’s old carved and graffitied desk and pondered if he also wanted to accept. She had initially thought he would, but lately he’d been spending more time with Ginny flying, tossing a Quaffle, and strategizing Quidditch together and now she thought they might just both play professional Quidditch. She’d also been sent the same offer and declined immediately, stating her intent to return to Hogwarts and get her NEWTs. When she told him what her answer had been, Ron had looked down at his offer again and frowned slightly.

She slid quietly out of the bed, found her knickers in the pile and slid them on, then put Ron’s shirt on also. When she stood, it came almost to her knees. She lifted the collar to her nose and sniffed: more grass, spearmint and sweat, but her scent also. She walked quietly to the desk and sat down. She took her beaded handbag off the shelf and pulled out parchment, ink, and quill and started writing. She had almost finished her letter to the Australian Department of Muggle Relations when she heard Ron’s voice.

“Homework?” he asked, laughing as he sat up and put his legs over the edge of the bed.

She watched as he found his pants and slid them on. It was still a thrill to see him like this.

“No, I’m writing to the Australian authorities to see if they can find my parents and if their memories can be restored.” She sighed and sobbed just once, but then wiped her eyes of the proto-tears and watched Ron dry-eyed.

He stretched and she looked at his tight stomach. He saw her looking and grinned.

“Like what you see?”

She moved to sit next to him and kissed him in response.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said when they broke apart.

“Yes, I like what I see.”

“Is that my shirt?” Ron asked

Hermione rolled her eyes dramatically and he laughed again.

“No, it’s mine…at least it is now.”

She stood and held out her hand like she was holding a flag.

“I claim this shirt in the name of Queen Hermione.”

She flopped back down onto his lap and he let out a muffled oomph noise. The light from the curtains had moved slightly and they both enjoyed the play of it on their bare skin.

“As much as I’d like to spend the day in bed, I do have to finish this letter and post it and we have chores to do around the house.” She sighed.

“And you’ve got to answer your letter.”

“If you want me to go back to Hogwarts with you, I will,” Ron said, as he ran his hand through her sleep-tangled hair.

She looked up and met his eyes.

“I want you to do what you want to do. I don’t want you to come back to Hogwarts just because I’m there. If you want to join the Aurors, you should.”

His hand stopped moving in her hair.

“I think I have to; I need to do my part.”

She sat up, pulling his hand down over his heart.

“We did our part already. You shouldn’t feel like you have to do more.”

“But I wasn’t there for all of it. I have to do this for myself.” He squeezed her hand where they met over her heart. His eyes went to the wound on her arm and she turned it so the mostly healed ‘mudblood’ that had been carved in it was no longer visible.

“That’s what I wanted to hear. I mean the truth either way. Not that I wanted you to go. Not that I wanted to go. I don’t know.”

“Do you think Harry’s going to take the offer?” Ron asked.

Hermione shrugged, but then shook her head.

“I think he’s either going to play Quidditch or go back to Hogwarts, either way it’ll be with Ginny.”

“Yeah.” He released her hand and slid his hand over her stomach and under her shirt then down over her thighs. She sighed and kissed his neck, but then sat back quickly.

“Sorry, I’ve got to pee.” She found her jeans and slipped them on, then left for the bathroom. Ron’s eyes stayed on her until she left, then flicked to the letter on his desk. He stood, stretched, then went to get clothes from his dresser. When Hermione returned a few minutes later, he was sitting at his desk, fully clothed with the letter open.

“Will you help me answer this?” he asked. She nodded and sat next to him at the desk. She helped him with his letter, then finished hers while he went to shower. When he came back, smelling of soap and no longer of them together, she also went to shower.

Their morning was taken up in chores and all the maintenance a large old house needs. After lunch, Ron joined Ginny and Harry for some Quidditch; they wanted Hermione to join, but she declined and helped Molly with her housework instead.

“Mrs Weasley—uh, Molly?” Hermione asked, still getting used to calling her Molly.

“Yes, dear?” Molly didn’t look up from where she was darning socks with her wand.

“Thank you for letting me stay here.”

“Nonsense, you’re family, just like Harry is. You can stay as long as you want.” She tossed a sock that was more holes than sock into the bin.

“I’m sorry I don’t have any money left to contribute. I lost what was left of my Muggle money when we were on the run.”

Molly waved her off.

“Will you be able to get your Hogwarts things? Do you need some new clothes?”

“I’m okay on clothes and Harry’s going to spot me money for supplies.”

“If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask. You’re like my own daughter. I know I haven’t always been the closest to you, but I know now you’d never do anything to hurt Ron or Harry deliberately.”

“You do know that there’s never been anything between me and Harry, right? He’s like the brother I never had and that’s it.” Hermione tried to darn a sock and got it wrong; Molly showed her the right way.

“I do now. Sorry I didn’t know it then.”

Just before dinner, Ron posted his response to Kingsley and Hermione sent her request to the Australian authorities. From the garden, they watched the owls fly away to the southeast. A moment later another owl joined them from the window of Bill’s old room where Harry waved at them. He motioned that he was coming down. They waited in the garden, hand in hand. Harry came out of the Burrow with Ginny.

“We all decided, then,” he said.

“I’m doing it,” Ron responded.

“I’m not,” Harry said. He put his arm around Ginny.

“I just want to have one normal year at Hogwarts with my girlfriend, playing Quidditch and no one trying to kill me.”

“I get it, mate,” Ron said as he released Hermione’s hand and shook Harry’s. Harry only shook his hand for a second before he pulled him into a giant hug that Ginny and Hermione joined.

“I’ll miss you,” Harry said.

They all broke apart and Ginny asked, “Do you know when they’ll want you to report?”

“I suspect as soon as I hear word back. It’s going to be onsite training for six weeks and I’ll be living with the other trainees.” Ron sighed and then smiled.

“Maybe I’ll be assigned to Hogsmeade, you never know.”

“I heard new trainees have to work out of the London office with an experienced Auror, but who knows if there’s still enough of those left,” Harry said.

They all turned to walk into the Burrow almost simultaneously, which made Hermione smile; after so many years together, they all had taken on some of each other’s mannerisms.

“Got plans for after dinner?” Ron asked Hermione who shook her head.

“You do now; we’re going to watch the sunset in the garden together.” He took her hand.

“And snogging?” Ginny elbowed Hermione, who laughed.

“Probably. Not like you won’t be doing the same,” Hermione elbowed Ginny back. Ginny side-eyed Harry.

“Yeah,” she admitted as Harry put his arms around her shoulders.

Percy came to dinner with a trifle in a glass bowl and George surprised them all by coming too. Lately he’d been staying late at WWW and he’d not often come to family events. Hermione saw the dark circles under his eyes and asked Ron if they could do anything. Ron shook his head and said that George wanted to do it all himself. To Hermione it seemed like penance.

After dinner, Hermione, Ron and Harry did the washing up. When he was done, Ron disappeared into the house and came back with a tatty plaid blanket a moment later.

“Don’t want to get one of the good ones dirty,” he explained. Harry went to sit with Percy, Ginny, Molly and Arthur. George had made his excuses after dinner and left, but not before huge hugs from everyone including Percy.

Ron took Hermione’s hand and led her out to the garden under the watchful eyes of the gnomes. Crookshanks followed behind them, occasionally stopping to chase off a gnome who ran away laughing. When they got to a large spreading tree, Ron tossed the blanket down. They sat facing west, watching the red sun go down in a haze that was possibly heat or maybe smoke from a distant fire.

“It’s beautiful,” Hermione said when she came up for air.

“So are you,” Ron replied instantly, which Hermione knew meant he’d meant it and had said it without thinking.

“Thank you,” she replied and kissed him above one ear, then the other.

“I—I don’t know what will happen to us,” Ron said, pulling back.

“What do you want to happen with us?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I thought we’d be together after… just after, you know,? But we seem to be going different ways, different paths.” He ran his hand through his hair in a gesture that reminded her of Harry.

“Do you want to be together? Are we going to get married? Is that something you want?” Ron pulled a small, plain gold ring out of his pocket.

“Oh, Ron, no,” Hermione said, closing his hand over the ring.

“It’s not an engagement ring… just a promise ring,” he finished lamely.

“I…it’s too early for me to think about getting married.” She squeezed his hand over the ring.

He hung his head.

“That’s what I thought you’d say, but I had to ask, know for sure.”

“I do love you, Ron, but I don’t know what I want right now beyond going back to Hogwarts.” She kissed his cheek. He pulled back.

“I love you, Hermione.”

“I love you too, Ron, but I’m not ready to get married or even engaged. It doesn’t mean it won’t happen between us; maybe it just means ‘not now’.”

He hugged her and she returned it.

“Is it because of her?” he whispered in her ear.

Hermione knew who he meant.

“No. What I had with her isn’t the same.” She broke the hug and held him at arm’s length.

“Can we just enjoy the time we have now before you go to London? If not, I’ll move into another room if that’s what you want.”

He shook his head.

“No. We can enjoy our time together.”

She pulled him in and kissed him again.

Neither of them noticed the paparazzo with a telephoto lens hiding in the deep grass on the other side of the fence from the Weasley’s garden.

[tteokdoroki]

BUT WHEN HE LOVES ME. | K.BAKUGOU.

ʚ♡ɞ SYNOPSIS: relationships are never easy. some are meant to last, blossoming into white weddings and white picket fences with a loud dog barking in the front yard. some part ways, love carried in their hearts as they walk separate paths. some are doomed from the start, breaking like glass from the slightest touch. and katsuki bakugou’s? well, his was never meant to last.

ʚ♡ɞ PAIRING: katsuki bakugou x fem!reader.

ʚ♡ɞ WC: 14.8K.

ʚ♡ɞ RATED: mature, 18+, mdni.

ʚ♡ɞ GENRE: pro hero!au, angst, fluff + smut.

ʚ♡ɞ CW please read !   heavy!angst, toxic!relationships, mentions of violence, arguments, cheating, bakugou is a really bad boyfriend, heavy smut, literally 7K words of it sdhbfb,  ( characters aged up to mid-twenties ), heavy!body worship, heavy!cumplay, daddy!kink, dacryphilia!kink, praise!kink, unprotected sex ( wrap it before you tap it, kids ), oral sex ( female receiving ), handjobs, tummy bulges, choking, spitting, mindbreak. reader is picked up during the smut scene.

ʚ♡ɞ A/N: hello everyone!! good evening, today i present to you one of my favourite fics i’ve ever written, i’ve been meaning to write some angst for a while + this is my contribution for the bakugou prompt collab from the BNHAREM server! my prompt was ‘it wasn’t supposed to end this way’ (and yes i did base this off that one tiktok audio). please check out everyone’s works here ( thank you emme for the masterlist )

ʚ♡ɞ special special thanks to @bakugous-trauma​ and @doinmybesthere for beta reading some!

ʚ♡ɞ masterlist | requests | kofi

— “I HATE ALL MEN.” 

from your seat in the cafe, you can watch the world go by. children running down busy streets with flustered parents in tow, businessmen and women and people chasing their trains with worried expressions— late for whatever boring meeting they have to waste the hours of the day on. you note the number of couples that walk by too, you look for the quirk in the corner of their mouths to see if they’re really smiling, the tight clasp of their hands so hard that their knuckles turn white. 

your hand warms on the clothes table, feeling empty and alone, even when you’re surrounded by many of the people you love.

katsuki’s friends are like family to you. they, mina, kirishima and ochako had all attended high school with one another— but mina you had known from freshman year of college, she decided to keep her options open despite being a pro hero in the making. when your boyfriend, katsuki, had told you he wanted you to meet his group of friends ( surprisingly enough, he still had them, ) and you hadn’t realised the world was so small.

you liked katsuki’s friends, and they loved you— treating you as if you were one of their own, much to your boyfriend’s chargen. so once a month, the four of you met up for brunch to catch up as your lives moved on and the world continued to spin on its own. 

to occupy your empty hand, you grasp at your silverware fork and twirl it around your basil pasta— mina had picked somewhere new to try, claiming she felt like treating herself over the success of graduating alongside her new fling. you couldn’t order your usual, but she’d told you the green stuff was always your best bet for a fancy, up-market place like this. 

“sooo, what’s she like?” you hear ochako coo to your right, leaning forward on her elbows with a dreamy twinkle to her chestnut eyes. the wistful tone to her voice pulls you from your lonesome thoughts about the dreary world and you shove your fork into your mouth to avoid conversation. 

mina grins brightly to your left, hands clasped together as she swoons. “i think she's the one, i might be in love with her!” 

“you say that about all the girls,” kirishima scoffs over a sip of some expensive looking cocktail— it was fruity, he always had a thing for the sweeter drinks in which you shared. after ashido, you’d consider the redhead your second closest friend, his bright eyes and kind smile were always quick to put you at ease. you felt safe with kirishima, and over the years he had helped you understand bakugou in ways you couldn’t in the early stages of your relationship. 

bakugou was a fire you couldn’t tame, not a droplet of water could control the havoc he wreaked. not even you. 

you slump and reach over to swipe eijirou’s drink as mina whines and gushes over her new love. romance talks never did you any good. “what?” she whines, brushing through the pink curls on the back of her neck— seemingly bashful. it must be love, you think, you’ve never seen her like this so it must be true. “i didn’t sleep with her til after graduation!” 

“now,” you wash down your pasta with what kirishima allows you to take and grimace as you tip the glass to your old time friend. “that’s a first for you,” there’s a teasing lilt to the tone of your voice, one that makes mina slap her hands down on the table in protest, the gesture followed by the rattling of expensive silverware. the esteemed guests of whatever the hell this place was called, shift their unimpressed gazes over to your rowdy crew and you shrink in your place, suddenly feeling shy.

“moving swiftly on,” mina comments, a burst of laughter teetering on the tip of her tongue.

ochako joins the other girl in her chuckling fit, replacing the cool atmosphere with a light happiness. “izuku and i are moving in with one another,” she comments while trying to suppress her laughter and you pretend it doesn’t hurt. to see two of your longest friends happy and in healthy relationships, with no one to relate to your struggles. it wasn’t easy to admit to yourself that you and bakugou were struggling to stay afloat— and you attended these brunches with the hopes of forgetting all the pain that you left at home with your significant other. 

but the love was everywhere— in the air, at your table choking you from the inside out. you were filled with a queasy mix of jealousy and hatred, one that you couldn’t shake even with more forkfuls of the pasta mina had recommended. you murmur a quiet congrats along with the rest of your friends, smile not quite reaching your eyes that flicker around the table in order to avoid sympathetic stares from those that know your pain. 

they all know what’s really going on with your relationship, they’re just too kind to say.

“kaminari’s as dorky as ever,” eijirou adds to the conversation swiftly to delay all attention landing on you. he knows and gives you enough time to push away the monster green with jealousy who sits contently in the base of your rib cage and toys with your precious heart. katsuki had called the sharp toothed redhead and his boyfriend ( denki kaminari ), the condiment duo. a complete pair of idiots destined for one another as he’d put it. 

your heart hurts because you so badly want that for yourself, to be seen as the couple who were made for one another and to never be apart, to share goofy smiles like you used to and tell jokes that only the two of you understand— but as the table of your most loved and dear friends shift their attention to you, you know that the ideals of kirishima and kaminari’s relationship is far from reach. 

taking a deep breath, you look to your expectant friends and allow a moment to pass. seconds tick by without a word from you, mina’s cool hand filling the empty space of your own so with your free one, you make a mad dash for your fork and scarf down another mouthful of four star rated basil pasta.

“hey, don’t do that,” eijirou scolds your bad habits, sensing your hesitation  while your eyes flutter shut and your mind tunes out the dark grey of the world outside— the basil tastes bitter, aligning with your mood for the entirety of the brunch. shaded with the colour of your jealousy too.

hesitating, you let kirishima pull the remainders of your food from in front of you, so you don’t pull another stuffing stunt again.  “katsuki and i…” you swallow, keeping your eyes closed as so not to see the hopeful expressions of your friends. “katsuki and i, we had another fight.” 

“really? what’s with this guy?” kaminari chooses this exact moment to return from his escapade to the bathroom, huffing through his nose at annoyance while he immediately finds his seat next to his boyfriend. his amber gaze lights up at the sight of your food next to kirishima however, and he dives right in, much to your display. “ooh! is this that new basil shiz? heard it’s to freakin’ die for babe, you order for me?” the blonde, a shade or two darker than your lover, sounds giddier the more he talks about the food, making you relent to kirishima’s apologetic smile, offering the food to his lover.

but you know that he only looks so apologetic since you keep taking hits. first you lose bakugou and now you’re freaking over priced lunch.

“god, i hate men,” kaminari snides.

“what was it about?” ochako asks quickly as your face twists with a pang of hurt. sympathy lines her sweet voice.

“just about his work, he’s always working late—“ you conjure up the excuse for your boyfriend quickly, wanting to drop the subject before the pink princess beside you cuts in.

before speaking, she gives your hand a squeeze, but your grip still feels empty, like it’s missing something. “think he’s cheating on you?” 

“he wouldn’t,” you try to laugh it off, stop the emotional lump in your throat from growing and keep down the bile of word vomit from spewing across the table— there’s so many things falling apart, ruining what you share with their high school classmate. but these are bakugou’s people, the only ones he has left from those days or bothered to stick around long enough to stand his foul attitude and the weird way that he shows love. no matter how much your failing relationship may hurt you and cause fresh wounds, you couldn’t dare taint the view his friends have of katsuki. “‘m sure he’s on the verge of proposing… there was a small box in his sock draw…” 

this time, you finally look up and meet the stares of the people you love. mina looks like she needs another drink, ochako looks nervous, eijirou looks upset for you and kaminari? he’s only gone and scarfed down your comfort food, brow quirked as he wipes his mouth...next words giving you a reality check. “really yn?” he mumbles over a mouthful of pasta, earning an elbow to his ribs. “what? we were all thinking it!” 

“you don’t think i’m worthy of lord dynamight’s ring?” you try to joke, gulping down the rest of kirishima’s drink and sheepishly rubbing the back of your neck in an attempt to soothe the embarrassed heat forming there. 

ochako puts a calming hand on your shoulder, but it only adds to the lame resentment you feel towards her and her happy, bubbly relationship with izuku midoriya. “it’s not that...it’s just we just think bakugou isn’t worthy of you.” she says gently, rubbing your shoulder slightly. this was a conversation you’d all had before at many brunches. your friends, his friends had been trying to talk you out of leaving bakugou for months— they all knew it wasn’t working, that it was draining the life out of you to keep up a smile and the facade of a blooming, rose tinted romance. 

but you couldn’t leave bakugou, you couldn’t let your friends hate him the way you hated yourself for staying. you deserved better but bakugou deserved to have genuine love and support around him. you wouldn’t let that be taken away because the spark you had, began to fade. 

“he’s a good guy, you guys are meant to be his friends!” you whisper and pull away from ashido’s and uraraka’s respective grips, chewing nervously on the chapped skin of your lips. 

“but—” kirishima hums and looks you dead in the eye— he was probably the closest to your boyfriend out of everyone at the table yet the most adamant for your break up. you suppose he hated seeing two people he loved fall out of love. “but...is he good enough for you?” 

the conversation falls flat from there as you spot a waiter from behind kirishima’s mop of ruby red locks, your boyfriend unfortunately in tow. you couldn’t miss the familiar blonde tuft of hair peeking out from underneath his black snapback— ruby eyes burning into yours even though he wears a mask. your friends follow suit with the flatline of everyone’s words when katsuki takes a seat with you all, throwing down his belongings against the table and pressing a brash kiss to your cheek. 

you feel tension rise to the ceiling of the room, smiling only just. “what the fuck did i miss?” bakugou growls, yanking away mina’s food and causing a pout to pull at her lips for the nth time today. 

get it together, you think as talk flitters through the group once again. taking katsuki’s hand in yours, the emptiness in your hand dissipates with his calloused one in yours. it’s stupid how much excitement you get from being near the man that you love after so long, after the emotional tourment your relationship puts you through. 

but you love him, you always will. 

“nothing, we were just about to have dessert.”

— “BUT WHEN HE LOVES ME, I FEEL LIKE I’M FLOATING.” 

fights with katsuki bakugou are nothing but explosive.

how could they not be with a man built so high with pride and a quirk that could shake the heavens? they were always so big, brutal and brash— traits that if you squinted, you could find laid bare in the DNA of the man that you loved.

vulgar words and harsh insults you’d tell each other you didn’t mean the very next day, laid out bare for all to see. accidents, mistakes thrown in your face like dashes of piping hot water, leaving burning reminders against your skin. there’s shrapnel everywhere, piercing your flesh and adding littering scars to what’s left of you after you both fall apart every single time. 

this fight had been katsuki’s fault, or so you liked to think. 

you had a reason to be mad, livid even, especially with the careless way your boyfriend treated his life. between the early mornings where you woke up in a cold bed to the late nights where bakugou would limp through your front door with bleeders the size of your fist leaking through his hero costume, dislocated joints and tired, red eyes as dark as his blood— you couldn’t take it. not anymore. 

it was hard not to miss the nights where katsuki would come home with flowers of your favourite kind instead of blossoming bruises, wine instead of open wounds. you wanted him back, was that too much to ask for? to be able to look at your partner and see the warmth of love written in the tiny brown flecks of his eyes— the ones you could only see if you were really looking at him. to be able to hold him and not feel him flinch under your delicate touch from loose and poor stitches, to be able to hold his hand and not worry about the scars of split knuckles. 

“i just want you to be safe,” you tell him the night prior, patching up a slice to his side as he bled crimson roses into your porcelain bathtub. it wouldn’t stain, there was bleach in the cupboard under the sink for situations like this. your voice warbles, breath hitching with every grunt from bakugou as the needle and thread passes through honeyed skin. “you keep getting hurt like this and it scares me.” 

tears start to build up behind the waterline of your eyes and you turn away from katsuki to grab some more gauze from the cabinet. an excuse not to let him see you cry, for he’d throw it right back into your face like battery acid.  “don’t start this shit again, babe.” he says cooly, his own special way of taming the flames before they spread.

“it...it would be nice for you to come home with a box of chocolates and some take out instead of a knee deep wound every once in a while, don’t you think?” beginning to shake from hurt or fear, you can’t tell, you slam the box of gauze down against the sink. you manage to find katsuki’s gaze in the mirror, but he doesn’t look at you— nostrils flared with annoyance. “don’t i deserve that, katsuki? to have you safe?” 

he’d scoffed and you’d finally whirled around, both of your chests beginning to heave from the impending explosion. you both sit in the crowded and tiled room like a ticking time bomb. 

“s’my fuckin’ job to keep the people out there safe, yn. if y’weren’t quirkless, you’d do the same fuckin’ thing.” your boyfriend sneers, a smirk on his face since he knows that it’s hurt you. and there it was, the words that came swinging down on your heart like a jackhammer, stopping its beating in place. sadistic, cruel and calculated— bakugou jabs at you with coordinated attacks in ways that he knows will win him this fight.

you ignore the painful sting that comes along with the reminder that yourself and katsuki will never be equals, he a pro hero and you his quirkless girlfriend. he above and you below. laughing the feeling away, you throw your hands up in defeat— having half a mind to throw the box at bakugou just to make him feel what you do. “it always comes back down to that, doesn’t it?” you spit and bakugou shrugs his shoulders, checking over his own remaining wounds and pulling parts of shrapnel from them with nonchalance to what you say. “i’m always just your pathetic quirkless girlfriend whenever i ask you to look out for yourself, because i can’t stop you from working until you die every single night. i’m worthless and quirkless because i ask you to come home in one piece so i don’t have to keep fixing you—“ 

“i don’t need you to fuckin’ fix me. ‘m not broken so quit acting like i need your shitty help. i don’t fuckin’ need you.” 

bakugou is never rational when he’s like this, saying whatever he can to keep you teary eyed and upset so you’ll shut up. it’s times like this where you hate that you’re so in love with him, that you’ll wait for the fight to blow over just to hold him again, to press rewind and start the record from the beginning. 

“right, of course.” you say weakly, looking anywhere but him. 

the pair of you go to bed angry that night, no words exchanged and no lingering touches. katsuki still struggles to sleep as he always has— plagued by nightmares from his days on the field, some as far back as his time at  U.A. the sports festival, when he was kidnapped. the blonde shuffles amongst the shared sheets, clawing desperately at the small strings of good sleep that are slipping from between his scarred fingers.

usually you would comfort him, roll over from your side into his dip in the bed— wrap your arms around his firm torso and let your hands rest on his warm chest, feel the lively beat of his heart beneath marked flesh. let your own body relax at the comforting thought that your boy was alive and well and safe. that was the only time katsuki bakugou would let you hold the vulnerable sides of him and his guard would fall away. 

but tonight you lay mad beside your boyfriend, holding in your gentle cries as the argument replays in your head.

because no matter how much you loved him, you would always be katsuki bakugou’s quirkless girlfriend— it would never be enough for your late night hugs to keep him safe.

bakugou never likes to leave you after a fight. something about his overprotective nature of you and his lack of communication skills always led to this.

no matter how infuriated he is with you and vice versa, he never ever leaves your side. it could be anywhere between two days to a week, filled with awkward silences and hands that brush against each other when reaching for the coffee pot— quickly pulled away from one another followed by quiet grumbles of ‘good morning,’. into the silent  space of your apartment becomes mounted with an unbearable tension while bakugou broods and attempts to string his emotionally retentive words into a poor attempt at saying sorry. 

it usually stays this way until one of you apologises, katsuki through small actions— needy kisses and the sight of his muscled and shirtless back cooking a slightly less spicy version of your favourite food in your kitchen after work... and yourself through gripping his fingers and kissing a small ‘sorry’ into the corner of his mouth. 

and after all this, the shattered glass of your fragile and delicate relationship becomes glued together, sitting at a breaking point before your next fight.

but he sits next to you the day after your fight, an arms length away from you on the shitty couch your mother had gifted you as a housewarming present when you both first moved in with each other. it was old and from your childhood home, the missing spots of blue nylon material patched up with anything your mother could find. bakugou hated it, called it an eyesore in the middle of your apartment but he let you keep it because it made you smile, because it was soft against his back when he laid with you on movie nights. 

despite being only a breath’s width apart, you still miss the heat of katsuki’s body against your own— craving to curl up against him like you used to. even still, the blonde pro hero remains as intense as ever, staring blankly at the saturday morning news report flashing on TV, letting his presence flood your living room and burn every corner. 

neither of you say a word as the reporter recounts an incident downtown, an armed robbery with the assailants gunned down and around thirteen injured including some heroes. out of the corner of your eye, you see bakugou’s thigh twitch as if he’s desperate to get out onto the scene, despite the fact that today is his only day off for the next week. 

you rip your gaze from him and rest your head lazily on the palm of your hand, elbow on the arm of your couch. “that could have been you, y’know?” you tell him absentmindedly, anxiety settling in the column of your throat. it could, have been him— you’re not wrong. if your boyfriend had been on duty today— he could have gotten himself hurt way worse than you can handle, he could have even died, god forbid that even happened. but they were all possibilities you were forced to think about every time he stepped out of your creaky red painted door and left for work as a hero. 

everyday you’re forced to think about the infinite number of ways bakugou could die on the job and it’s been killing you slowly from the inside out for years. a black necrosis eating away at the tissues of your heart until it’s beating affection for pro hero dynamight starts to slow.

“i know.” bakugou tells you weakly, voice hoarse from sleep and not having spoken to you since last night. you don’t look, but you can feel the burning gaze of his on your left cheek for the first time in more than eight hours. his stare is hard and unmoving, but you don’t dare to budge on meeting it.

“you could have died,” you continue, picking at the sleeves of katsuki’s sweater that you wear. the news report continues; confirming izuku midoriya as one of the heroes injured on scene but thankfully stable, bullet just grazing his thigh. your body sags in relief at the fact that your friend is still alive. “you could die anywhere and i wouldn’t know, i wouldn’t see until it was written in big block letters for everyone else to see. but what about me, katsuki? what happens to me when you die? because i don’t have a quirk and you’re just—“ 

bakugou finally turns his body towards you, pulling your arm that rests on the couch cushion  until you’re collapsed in his arms and your noses are just barely brushing. “i know, baby...fuck,” he uses his freehand to brush through bed head blonde locks, letting it run over his face before using it to tilt your chin up towards him. “i know, ‘m sorry. you know that right? you know that i’m sorry…”

eyes closing, you nod and let him hold you— tuning out the noise from the report and listening for katsuki’s breathing, his heartbeat, the proof that he still lives. “i know…” 

“then you gotta know that, ‘m only ever fighting you like this, ‘cause ‘m tryna keep you safe,” you feel him nod with you, a sigh of relief passing from between his lips as he presses foreheads together. “fuck, baby i just want you safe. out there ‘m fighting the bigger guys to keep them out ‘n keep you away from harm.” 

you laugh breathlessly, wetly as katsuki finally holds you and gives you the soft affection that you’ve been craving. “you’re such an idiot, katsuki,” you can’t help the smile that spreads across your lips and twitches at the corners of your mouth— especially when feeling your lover mirror the expression on his own. you let your sweater paw covered hands snake around the back of his neck, twisting in the baby blonde hairs at it’s nape before leaning up and finally, finally pressing a kiss against his lips. 

the hand that held up your chin slips to cup the back of your head— pulling you harder against him and letting his tongue trace the seams of your lips. he tells you he loves you without saying, you feel it spread throughout your body like a warm wave crashing on a white sandy beach, you feel it in your lungs and how they burn for oxygen despite how bakugou grips your waist to tug you onto his lap and kiss you harder than ever before. you feel it everywhere he touches, the skin where your sweater has ridden up, your bare thighs, your neck, your face. every inch of you. 

you love him, you love him and he loves you— more than anything and more than there are words. “fuckin’ love you,” he grunts between smooches to your raw lips, tugging them with his pearly whites, tongue sliding over yours.

you giggle. “i know,”

“say it back baby, wanna hear you say it.” he huffs, pinching your side.

“i love you back,” you manage, between even more fits of laughter— separating from bakugou to run a hand through his sun kissed locks. “i love you,” 

bakugou smiles, genuine and big with his eyes bright and teeth on display. 

“i know.” 

— “ WHEN HE CALLS ME PRETTY  I, FEEL LIKE SOMEBODY.” 

katsuki bakugou tastes like burnt oak and whisky. 

it wasn’t one of his favourites, the whisky... but he’d been stuck on it since the night he met your father and they stayed against your childhood swingset in your back garden talking about katsuki’s plans for you both. he’d gotten your father’s approval that night. and yet, there’s salt on his tongue from the margarita you drank back at the restaurant on date night— two completely different drinks swirling together in perfect harmony. 

just like yourself. just like him. 

the pair of you stumble right through the front door, toeing off smart pointed shoes and uncomfortable high heels required for the dress code at the upscale restaurant katsuki had booked with all that pro hero money. the dinner was nice, the tiny portions and rare ingredients had been a right treat but you’d been eyeing something different for dessert. 

katsuki seemed to share the same idea, heated red stare never leaving your own— his large and built body cornering you in the booth that he’d paid for. you know that he’d planned that, judging by the sheer amount of privacy you had in the dim lit restaurant. god, you looked so delectable, so pretty— you’d gone all out in a pretty dress, skirt short, colours of his hero’s costume, lips painted red—so it was only a matter of time before bakugou’s hand slipped up the material and grasped at your doughy thighs.

pulled them apart under the dinner table, pressed white hot fingers against your thin lace panties and rubbed smooth circles into your clit— while both of you sipped your respective drinks and asked the wait staff for another basket of breadsticks. 

so that’s how you end up here, pressed up against the entryway table in the entryway— your legs hooked around the slender waist of your boyfriend, gasping for air at the feel of his sharp canines stamping their desperate way up your throat and marking it as his own, making sure that you and everyone else to see you in the coming days knows exactly who you belong to. with every bite comes a vicious bark from bakugou, hooded eyes mapping out every unmarked area of your skin— painting it with bruises that form beneath the surface, soothing it with laps of his heavy, wet tongue over each inflamed area. 

squeezing his waist tighter, you use your legs to drag bakugou’s lean form closer to yours— relishing in the way his body hangs heavily over yours. the antics from back at the restaurant sparked a fire deep within your lower belly, started an itch in your cunt that only the great katsuki bakugou can scratch. just having him like this, wandering hands and pointed teeth all up against you made you so incredibly needy. all for him, only ever for him. 

“y’fuckin’ eager t’night, baby…” katsuki tells you, voice thick with a slur and eyes dark, teasing and honed in on you underneath him. the temperature surrounding your bodies rises, especially with how closely pressed you are to one another—perfectly slotted together like it was meant to be. “what’s got you s’worked up? surely you can’t be losin’ your mind over a couple fingers, hm?” 

an attempt to rub your plush thighs together while having them wrapped around katsuki only pulls a gluttonous grunt from the man— his eyes fluttering shut as you accidentally press against his clothed hard on—trapping him close to the heat of your core. “don’ need to tease katsuki, you did enough of that at the restaurant,” you sigh, losing all control of your body and pushing up against the man again. you can practically feel his cock twitch through the thin linen dress pants that he wears, black in colour that you want off but bakugou won’t go down without a fight, not before clamping down on your neck once more.

“wasn’t teasin’ princess, ’barely took a fuckin’ finger back there,” he easily finds more of the spots that make your back arch off of the entryway table and your pretty pussy clench around nothing but hot air, lapping and sucking at them until your eyes are crossing and you’re gagging on your metaphorical competitive words. with rising hands, you force your fingers into bakugou’s blonde roots in an attempt to bring him back to your lips— not having tasted them since you walked through that door. everything is too hot, which you can’t tell if it’s because of the alcohol or because of katsuki’s quirk, your patience is wearing far too thin and you miss the taste of him on your tongue as if you hadn’t loved each other like this for months. 

which you hadn’t. 

you whine in defeat, still tugging at soft blonde hair and lifting your hips to meet the impressive girth of your lover— but it’s not enough, you need him to give you all that you’d been missing through the bitterness of the last few months. “whas the matter? what’s the matter baby?” bakugou coos, kissing where your jaw meets your neck, tongue lolling over your pulse point. 

“need a kiss katsuki,” you huff, body reacting to the tenderness in his voice despite the contrasting roughness to his scarred and explosive hands that push the straps off your pretty dress off of your shoulders and pinch and pull at your sides and your tits. “aren’t ya gonna kiss me?”

your hands still in bakugou’s hair, his head lifting from your neck to look over your darling face— smudged ruby painted lips and bright doe eyes. fuck. ‘course he was gonna kiss you. especially when you looked at him like that. 

“s’that all you want, sweet girl? for your suki to kiss you?” with every question, the mocking lilt to katsuki’s tone rises and rises, earning warm pools of slick through your panties and onto his precious dress pants as you grind and grab at him— all for a kiss, all for him to press up against you as you sit prettily on the entryway table. you nod your head way too eagerly, pulling a sleazy chuckle from your man as he watches you pout and squirm. he debates on torturing you for a moment more, before leaning down and pressing your foreheads together once more. “c’mere baby, c’mon gimme a kiss, give suki a kiss.” 

you jump up excitedly but the large and marred hand belonging to bakugou encases the swell of your thigh and pins you down to the cool wood surface. he pinches you there once and you know to stay still, letting him swoop down and press his chapped lips against yours in a chaste kiss. for a second your body tingles with release and a pleasurable heat flashes through you with the taste of the whisky in his mouth— but as soon as katsuki came, he’s gone again— leaning over your now sweat slicked body with a daring smirk. 

“no, no, no,” the unimpressed whimpers pour from between your smudged lips, barely distracting from your now teary eyes. “wanted a kiss suki, you promised…” 

bakugou hums, cocking his head down at you innocently. “what? you complaining’ baby? after the pretty night i gave you?” he continues teasing you, mocking you while you succumb to your needy stature— he knows that you like it when he manipulates you like this, takes advantage of your fuzzy baby brain just to get some dick in your leaky pussy. he’s always so good at taking care of you when you’re high off of lust and alcohol alone, you missed the way he took care of you and let yourself indulge in all of him tonight. “didn’t make any promises to kiss ya either, yer jus a dumb lil baby aren’cha? makin’ things up— maybe y’had a little too much t’drink…”

you try to shake your head, but katsuki’s already caught you by your chin— pads of his fingers beginning to sink into your chubby cheeks as he angles your head from side to side, as if he’s inspecting you for the supposed lie you’ve told. meanwhile his other hand slides up what he holds of your thigh, reaching for your lace panties beneath the material of your short skirt— but the material is so tight around your curves it restricts his movement. 

“‘m not drunk suki— not that drunk, just please gimme a proper kiss, please, please…” your tears fall unwillingly down the apples of your cheeks from the way katsuki holds you— he doesn’t look like he’s going to budge, so you open your mouth to speak, to beg again only for bakugou to delve deep into your awaiting mouth. his lips mouth with an air of roughness this time around, giving you want you really want and he matches the pace of his kisses with the movement of his hips— slotting his dick against your now puffy folds, more defined as a result of the way you drool into your undies. 

you're so desperate for a little more than just a little roughness to your kiss, nipping at bakugou’s lower lip enough to draw blood in an attempt to pry open his mouth and get that bitter taste of whiskey once again. you force your way into his mouth, tongue twisting with the pink of his own and uncovering the warm and bitter flavours of his whisky from earlier. this kiss is much dirtier than before, spit swapped as your hands roam the rest of bakugou’s body— pushing at his fancy shirt and tearing through the buttons that keep it anchored over his well sculpted chest. 

the grinding doesn’t stop either, even as bakugou cups your throat to keep you pinned against the wall behind you— head hitting the mirror with a light thud, glass vase with a fresh set of your favourite flowers falling from the entryway table and hitting the floor to your left. you both start to move with more vigour, the oxygen leaving your brain to make room for the overwhelming thoughts of your boyfriend who hangs above you. 

your lungs burn with brightly coloured lust, in shades of fiery orange and red— the walls around you, trapping in the heat of you pressed against katsuki. it’s not enough to have his mouth on yours and his hand with cool rings locked around your throat, and he doesn’t seem like he’s going to move any faster— withholding kisses and debauched touches from your starved body. so you take matters into your own hands, literally, fingers scrambling for the belt that keeps you away from bakugou’s dick. 

“slow down baby, you’re gonna rip through my pants with how fuckin’ needy you are,” katsuki tries to tell you with taunting voice but he choked on the tail end of his words when you finally break through his belt and half heartedly shove down his pants— stained with the nectar that dribbles from your destitute pussy. you grasp at his firm cock from over flimsy boxers, mouth practically watering as you get closer and closer to your goal. 

the pair of you share a hungry moan when you set katsuki free, his heavy girth hard and slapping against his tummy— only visible between his open shirt. beads of clear precum ooze from his sore red tip and you lean forward to spit against it, rubbing your palm over bakugou’s cockhead and shaft to create a lubricating mix of the fluids. a whimper, although small, bubbles on the seams of katsuki’s lips as his tongue darts out to wet them— his large body shuddering wholly as you finally take the weight of his cock into your hand, feeling for the prominent vein on its underside and reaching further into down to grasp at his heavy balls. 

“baby—“ he warns you, tip leaking hotly against your soft hands as you explore him. 

you look up at bakugou with big, innocent eyes, breathing heatedly into his mouth when he begins to collapse against you with every stroke of his cock. “missed how you feel, just wanna touch you suki, can i? please?” you ask him, even though he’d already nodding his head yes and whispering the ghost of praises against your cupid’s bow— wet from the sloppy kisses he gave. 

“fuck yes you can sweet girl, gotta finish what we started don’t we? make a mess of this cock ‘n i’ll—fuck— fucking ruin, that precious pussy of yers, yeah?” you know that he’s mindlessly babbling, beginning to leisurely thrust into your sticky closed fist— acting as a flesh light for his pleasure. “you’ve been s’good for me tonight, lettin’ me play with ya pretty clit ‘n mark you up, now y’givin me a handjob? dunno what i did to deserve you baby,” 

your heart flutters against your rib cage at the small slur of praise from your boyfriend, clit throbbing and cunt twitching all for some nice words nice words uttered from cherry bitten lips. “mmh,” you mumble, high pitched and desperate, “s’all for you katsuki, just wanna make you feel good,” 

he howls from deep within his chest, volume just above the raunchy slapping, damp sounds of your hand jerking his dick— squeezing occasionally to pull surprised moans from katsuki as he shakes above you and fucks your closed fist like it was your tight, pulsating cunt wrapped around him. a colourful ray of curses fill the air and you watch the show unfold between your bodies, saliva pooling on your tongue at the sight of bakugou languidly thrusting into your hand— a reminder for what’s to come later on in the night. 

you don’t dare to let up the pace of your hand, speeding up with every pull of katsuki’s hips away from your fucking heavenly grip— fat droplets of his precum hitting the floor with crude slaps from just how much he’s leaking, allowing your palm to glide up and down his shaft in smooth motions, bringing him closer to cloud nine. bakugou’s mind turns fuzzy and hazy, it shows in his face and the bliss that lines vermillion orbs— they flutter shut with every fervorous pant he lets out— your breath mingling together. 

his cheeks flush a shade to rival is enchanting ruby red eyes, strings of salvia joining the roof of his mouth to his strawberry tongue as katsuki throws his head back to let out alluring moans, like music to your ear. his adams apple bobs, tiny mutters of ‘fuck,’ and ‘shit, right there’ follow, and god he looks so beautiful like this, his fat cock in your hand and a line of sweat dotting his hairline. you want to commit the image to memory and let it burn in the back of your brain. 

“you’re gonna make me cum,” despite the fact that the word’s on the tip of his tongue are seethed in your direction, bakugou doesn’t let up up on the jump of his hips to meet your hand— letting you tug at his cock and fondle his breeders balls to orgasm. “y’don’t get my cum till ‘m inside you baby, you don’t get my cum…oh fuck, oh fuck yeah…” he chants even though he doesn’t stop, eyes snapping open to lock on yours. “greedy girl, just gonna keep jerkin’ me off to get what you want? told you ‘m not cummin’ till i get inside that needy lil’ hole of—“ 

“uhuh, just gimme your cum suki,” you cut him off with cheeky swipe of your thumb over his tip, coaxing the pro hero towards his high— you repeat the action as he shudders above you, swiping up more of his arousal before releasing him and lifting your hand to your mouth. you suck your tainted thumb between your lips, moaning lowly at the salty taste of your boyfriend against it and keep your gaze locked on his. 

“fuckin hell baby,” bakugou says, following your movements as he lets you spit on his cock once again, the glob running down his painfully hard shaft before you squeeze your messy head around him once more and piston it at an unforgiving pace. “fuck—fuck, you better fuckin’ stop, you better fuckin’ stop— holy shit, don’t fuckin’ stop fuckin’ this cock—!” 

you don’t stop despite his contradicting words, guiding katsuki through the messy terrains of his high as white hot light flashes behind his hazy eyes and a colourful stream of cursed tumbles from between his lips. his head drops heavily to your shoulder, the pace of his hips stumbling as he releases ropes of thick cum stain your hand, adding to the sheen that glazes it. you grin pridefully at the washy, imperfect mewls that come from your boyfriend while his hips start to slow and he pushes more of his white cum onto the floor beneath you both. 

“you came so much, katsuki,” you observe sweetly, letting him go once more to lick the remains of his release from your hand. bakugou doesn’t say a word as he comes back down, breathing heavily into your neck— still shaking. so you don’t expect his hands to forcefully grab your wrists, nails digging into the skin there as he pushes them above your head with a strong grip, your hands cooling against the mirror behind you. “suki—“ 

“daddy oughtta punish ya fer the stunt you just pulled pretty girl,” bakugou tells you breathily, steeling his voice although his face remains soft and wanting for you. “makin’ me cum over ya like some desperate fuckin’ dog. was gonna make you pay baby…but i just wanna get a taste of that sweet fuckin’ pussy, ‘cause i know s’been leakin for daddy this whole fuckin’ time…” 

you’re too delirious to deny bakugou’s claim, most obviously because it’s true. you’re sure that if he looked now your panties would be so soaked through that he could see the puffiness of your pussy and the way your clit pulsates, hanging onto every dirty word that drips from katsuki’s lips like liquid gold. that very same pair of lips is on you quickly, capturing your mouth in slow, sinful and sloppy kisses— spit trailing down your chin as his hands move to the sweetheart neckline of your dress that lies under your cold breasts exposed to the air, lacking attention. 

you don’t complain though, not about the lack of stimulation to your rock hard nipples— no, but the way katsuki tears right through your dress to easily get rid of the tight material restricting access to the treasure between your thighs. “my dress!” you shriek, body fully exposed to the hungry blood diamond orbs. “i bought that for you, dummy!” you pout.

“who the fuck cares? i’ll getcha a new one,” katsuki mumbles, sinking to his knees in front of you and your seat on the entryway table. he mouths over your thighs, pressing wet kisses to the tops of them where they swell and covering them in a clear gloss of his saliva. “don’cha want my tongue in you baby? can’t do shit like that with stupid dresses in my fuckin’ way…” slowly but surely, katsuki spreads your legs— kissing a path  from the little bow on the waistband of your underwear, right down to wear your clit would be. he bumps his nose against the sensitive nub, staring up at you to watch you twitch and grouse avidly— your own legs spreading apart even more. your hands, that hadn’t moved from above your head almost slip from their place, but with a quick spank to your unused sex, they jolt right back up. “hands where i can fuckin’ see them, baby girl.” 

“yes daddy,” you sigh, your entire body trembling with unadulterated excitement. for the first time in a while, you’re about to have crazy, passionate sex with the man who’s touch you thought you’d lost, your juices practically flow at the thought. 

pressing his lips to your juicy cunt, bakugou’s nose inhaled the saccharine scent of your sex at the same time— making you spasm in place. “that’s daddy’s good girl,” he hums into you shortly before pressing is tongue flat against your ruined panties, using the tip to trace a path up the length of your lower lips— just to get a taste and to pull a reaction right out of you. instinctively, your hips jump up from the entryway table, nudging katsuki’s tongue right down to your awaiting hole. you’re so fucking needy for anything, going so long without being touched or groped since you got back from the restaurant— the way he’d flicked your clit earlier in the booth had left you on the edge the entire time.

“oh-ho-ho, y’fuckin’ liked that, didn’t ya?” bakugou slurs, using the tip of his tongue to trace your hole— pushing it in along with the fabric of your underwear before sucking on the wet patch you’ve created just by gushing out streams of arousal. he tastes you through the lace barrier, listening out for your small gripes as your scent replaces all oxygen in the air and you expel hormones from his quaint little action. 

you nod in agreement, down to katsuki, hips bucking up for a while before he clamps them down to the oak wood table beneath your ass. “please…” 

katsuki tuts, spitting onto your puffy pussy lips from over the material as he pulls the waistband back and snaps it against your clenching tummy. “whaddya need princess? my tongue?” he asks lazily, flicking the tip of his tongue against your bud. you nod again but dumbly, unable to form enough words to tell him what you want. bakugou wastes no time from there, the hands on your hips snaking around to your ass, tearing through your panties from behind and yanking you towards his unruly mouth. 

he latches onto the entirety of your soaked slit, pink muscle finally breaching your tight entrance— curling immediately inside of your velvet walls to map out their ridges like he’s done so many times before. it feels so good to finally be worshipped like this again, the rough patch yourself and katsuki had been going through meant nothing but quiet quickies between shifts or on nights where neither of you could sleep. you had no choice but to miss this, the moments where either of you were overpowered by a sheer burning desire to become one, to fuck until your neighbours had complaints or the whole street had woken up. whether it’s pure passion or alcohol, you don’t care, just having katsuki between your thighs, suckling and slurping on your sex like his life depended on it— it’s  enough to make you lose your mind.

for the pro hero, having you clamp down on his tongue like it was his cock on those nights where he’d have you take him over and over, makes his hard on twitch to life. being the reason for your euphoria and amorous cries, caused dopamine to crackle across his brain— caused him to get addicted to the way you sound when getting fucked by him. it was like a high for bakugou.

you gush and gush, waves of arousal staining katsuki’s rose tinted cheeks— he could spend all of eternity working on pleasing you from between doughy thighs, sending you into sensory overload from each swipe of his hot tongue against your overstimulated clit. it’s all so obscene and messy, you’re sure there’s a pool of your own nectar sitting underneath you, a mix of your own fluids and your boyfriend’s spit running down your slit and to your ass. 

“feels so fucking good baby,” you keen over the sounds of your creamy cunt and bakugou cleaning you up, groaning sharply at your sweet-like-honey taste. you feel you might short circuit from how good your hero boyfriend makes you feel— owning your pussy as he thrusts is tongue in and out of your abused hole, never slowing down and only ever speeding up until your eyes cross and you can count the number of stars floating across your vision. 

you trap the pink muscle inside of you, let it wriggle about in search for your g-spot until bakugou lets up on your hips, allowing you rug aggressively into his awaiting face and smear a glaze of arousal over his chin. he keeps you plugged full with his tongue, letting you ride it as if it were his fat dick, held in place for you to use as your heart desires. 

“oh fuck baby, you’re so pretty when yer ridin’ my fuckin’ tongue like that,” bakugou says, catching his breath only after he pulls away from the heat of your throbbing mound. there he goes again, filling you with adoring praise that makes you feel so loved and so turned on all at once two fingers replace the roll of his tongue, rubbing fast and calculated circles along your nub until your thighs start to quiver around his head. “god, this pussy’s so good, love it baby. can’t believe s’all fuckin’ mine.” 

your body remains unsteady and shaky with nothing to hold onto, you practically squeal at the knot forming in your lower belly— the pressure there indicating an impending orgasm. “wanna cum daddy, can i cum? lemme cum—please, lemme...lemme cum…” you start to chant, losing your mind when your lover uses both tongue and finger to get you to heaven’s gates. “holy shit—katsuki!” 

“go ahead, can feel y’ready creamin’ on my tongue pretty girl…” bakugou says into your clamping cunt, laughing heartily as the dam finally breaks and your release washes over you. you convulse in your place, eyes rolling far back into your head as your arousal hits the floor with crude slap— merging with what katsuki left. he fails to stop either, slipping a single finger inside your hole and hitting your g-spot until your vision goes black and you’re begging him to stop. you feel as if you’re floating, tripping into orgasm chanting his name like a mantra.

“mnno—baby please, daddy— can’t, can’t—“ you wriggle; losing consciousness as a second orgasm takes control and takes you to cloud nine once again— syrupy cunt pouring cum like a river, the very sight enchanting bakugou. 

by the time you come to, katsuki is already standing up and making even more space between your soaked thighs to slip is cock into your raw and abused pussy. “daddy’s gonna fuck you now, kay sweet girl?” bakugou asks you, voice rough but the hand on your face, the one he uses to make you look at him is soft, domineering and gentle.

“mmkay daddy, wan’ your cock please,” you say sleepily, happy to be handled however your boyfriend wants. he takes to using two of his digits to press his shaft against your slick folds, riddled with the remainders of your precious orgasms. he glides through your folds with ease, sticky sounds dancing between your sexes as it tells the song of your passionate night. your ass is sore from being seated on the entryway table for so long, but all feelings are replaced by the new euphoria katsuki’s shaft creates just by brushing up against your overstimulated clit.

he spanks your breasts, letting the mound bounce before sharp teeth latch onto the other— grazing against your nipples to give them the attention they’d missed out on during your earlier sex crazed frenzy. “how d’ya want me baby?” katsuki whispers against the soft flesh, painting it in bruising shades. “wanna make you feel s’fuckin’ good,”

he pushes his dick through your swollen pussy lips until his tip hits your tummy, smearing globs of precum against it. you both shudder, relishing in the slick feeling of you grinding against one another bare. “don’ care,” you manage to find it in you to reply, cheekily dropping a hand  into mussed blonde locks to pull him into a chaste kiss. your brain is completely foggy, moments away from breaking and all you can think about is the taste of whiskey and salt in your mouth and the way katsuki heats you up from the inside out.  “jus want you,” 

those words seem to be all the permission katsuki needs to finally fuck you after so long, he pushes you by the shoulder to lean back against the cool painted wall— adjusting the position of your legs around his body until they’re hiked up high over his broad shoulders, ankles locking behind his head. you’re folded in two by the time he’s finished positioning you, cock drawn back from your tummy so his bright red tip, leaking feverishly with precum once more can be tapped against your sticky pussy— ground into your clit and teased into your puckering entrance ever so slightly. 

“want you too baby, s’fuckin’ badly,” bakugou murmurs lovingly against your lips, eyes closed and forehead pressed tholeo yours as he finally eases his tip past your entrance— stretching open your unused  from his thickness. he pushes in easily, thanks to your previous releases, and you’re so fucking warm and tight he thinks it might kill him.  the way you accept every inch of bakugou’s cock reminds him of how perfectly made you are for him— how he’ll never get another pussy, another girl like you in this life or the next. 

you’ll always be his pretty girl, and he’ll always have an insatiable need for you— to love you and protect you, no matter how much of an ass he is. 

“do i not fuck you enough, how the fuck are you so fuckin’ tight? must all be for me,” your cunt accepts bakugou into its soaked canal, walls spasming around him rhythmically before he’s even start to thrust. you ooze thick, viscous nectar while your core blossoms for him like your favourite flower but he presses on, until bakugou’s reached the hilt, fully sheathed inside of you. 

lifting your hips to lock him into your heat, selfishly, you add. “my pussy belongs to daddy, can’t be fucked open by anyone else but you,” the pair of you stay like that, revelling in your connected bodies and pressing light kisses to one another’s faces to prepare for what’s next. the alcohol in your system is well flushed out by all kinds of hormones and pheromones by the time katsuki pulls back his hips and slowly draws his cock out of the comfort of your ribbed walls— the only thing keeping you drunk is the way he stretches you out around him, pussy changing to accommodate his size and the pure love you have for katsuki bakugou in this very moment. 

leaning his large body over you, the blonde’s hands wander across your own as if memorising  every perfect detail about you— the light scar on your inner thigh because you hit a table corner when you first moved in together, the stretch marks, the beauty spots on your tummy and shoulders. bakugou presses a kiss to your sternum before looking up at you with big, loving eyes— eventually practiced and capable hands end up settling on the curve of your peachy ass, gripping it and moulding it as katsuki slowly pulls you back onto his cock. 

“hold on t’me baby,” he tells you lowly, face shoved back into your neck as if he doesn’t trust himself to not blow a load if you look at him. breath fanning warmly against the junction between your neck and shoulders, he continues. “ready?”

“oh god...please, please…” you feel like you’re going to cry, he’s right there— he’s all over you and all you want is to feel him where you need him the most. to have him take you again until all there is, is his scent on your body to match the love bites he left.

katsuki wraps an arm around your shoulders, large palm gripping the back of your head as he finally thrusts into your awaiting, gummy walls and meets the hilt. he pulls back, barely leaving the warmth of your pussy as he sets a slow and deep tone to the movement of his hips. “shh sweet girl, i’ve gotcha, kay?” he coos to you, followed by a seraphic moan that sends your sex into a series of flutters around him. “daddy promised to—fuck, make y’feel good…”

the edge of the hero’s words have a slight tremble to them, from where lewd sticky sounds echo in the entryway of your apartment— katsuki’s hips slowly rocking into you while a sheen of sweat sweeps over your joined bodies. he slips in and out of you so easily, forcing your cunt to accommodate for the sheer size of him. no matter how many times katsuki had fucked you, no matter which way, you always lived for the burn his dick created as it pushed its way into your puckered hole— moulded you into the perfect fuckhole for him to use.

“ohmygod—fuckin’ shit,” bakugou whines salaciously, using his grip on your ass to move you back and forth on his cock— matching the pace of his hips jutting in and out of your pathetically creamy sex. with every pull of his shaft out of you, your hips chase him to swallow him back up, keep him locked in your cunt until his tip that spews and smears clear precum against every ridge of your insides. 

hearing the man you love break above you fills you with a brilliant, bright and hot essence of delirious devoir— as he pulls away from your neck, vermillion eyes screwed shut you can see that sweat drips from his brow, which is furrowed in concentration, focused on bringing you to euphoria. bakugou’s honey skin shines under the dim lighting, flushed with only a light pink from his exertion, chocolate abs contracting with every stroke of his cock and rut of his hips into you. hair matted to his forehead, his arms flex, dragging you to meet his hips, skin smacking and breath mingling with the sex lingering in the air. 

bakugou is so fucking beautiful, you might mistake him for a mirage. if you were a desert, his sun and his golden sand, then he was an oasis— a forbidden drink of cool water, a vision of divine light. 

and you’re so lucky you get to be the only one who sees him like this, watch him break as he pumps you so full of everything he has to give you— see the vulnerability in his eyes as he slowly opens them to watch you mirror his darling expression. “you—you’re so pretty when you f-fuck me suki,” you tell him through earnest and teary hiccups, punctuated by his fervid driving hips, prodding harshly at your pleasure spot. 

katsuki tilts his head and swoops down to assault your bruised lips, famishedly tugging them between his sharp canines and running his tongue over the site of attack. you can taste yourself spread across them, laced with the saliva in his mouth before he spews it into your own— almost choking you while the grip he has  on your shoulders lifts you to meet him halfway. “yeah baby?” your boyfriend whispers lecherously against your temperate and impassioned mouth, as if he’s telling you a dangerous secret. “well daddy thinks yer the pretty one here, split open on my fat cock. y’so fuckin’ gorgeous, when ‘m fuckin’ you, when ‘m holdin’ you— daddy loves you so, so much baby,”

bakugou reminds you of his title, but there’s not a hint of anger or disappointment written across his perfect, chiseled features. there’s no hesitation in his thrusts as he pounds into you, hitting your g-spot and causing constellations to dot your vision. he doesn’t stop loving you, making love to you even if you’ve slipped up just a little. and it feels like bakugou never left, as he takes you like this on the entryway table— rocking it with the sheer force of his barbarous bombardment on your raw and sluice sex. it feels like home with him inside you, his dick basking in your slippery warmth. it feels like love again. 

tears start to brew in your eyes once again, clumping in your eyelashes and gathering on the hot apples of your cheeks as you become overwhelmed with admiration and love— heart thumping against your rib cage. “love you daddy, s’much, please don’t ever stop,” you beg, not bothering the clarify the fact you’re asking katsuki bakugou to never stop loving you, to never leave you high and dry nor empty...physically and emotionally.

because then you don’t know what you’d do if bakugou stopped holding you like this, stopped slotting his body against yours and claiming every inch of it as his, with every swipe of his tongue, every plunge of his cock into plush walls, every kiss and bite and touch. you’re sure that you’d go insane without him. you don’t dare to think of anyone else making love to him the way you do, because you’ve given him the key to your heart and he’s tossed it away, some place dark of his to keep. 

you don’t want this to be the last time, you don’t want the night to end. all you need is this moment in time, the first moment in many months where you can feel the flame in your heart burning the same heat as bakugou’s when he takes you. your hand brushes through his hair lovingly, your eyes sparkle with fresh sets of tears while your boyfriend’s intensity waves over you in scorching waves, soothing scratches and scars your relationship has given you over the last few months. tonight gives you hope that what’s broken can be fixed, that you still hold his heart like he does yours. 

“you’re mine, katsuki,” you writhe underneath him, stomach twisted in delightful knots— the tip of his heavy shaft tournenting your poor g-spot and his heavy balls slapping wetly against your ass, arousal running between your cheeks. “you’re mine, mine ‘n i love you, want you like this forever…” choked and greedy, your words come out in high pitched sighs, earning a deep keening groan from the man who pistons in and out of you. 

“‘m yours, huh?” katsuki replies, capturing your raptured gaze— blood ruby eyes lined with sobriety that dances amongst their dark brown flecks. he couldn’t be drunk now, he wasn’t. high as a kite only on the taste of your skin and the way you looked so in love with him stuffed full of dick and messed up with different layers of sweat, his precum and your releases. “damn right i am, ain’t no one gonna claim this pussy like i do, ain’t no one gonna fuck you like i do...ain’t no one—fuck baby, don’t clamp down on me like that— ain’t no one gonna love you like i do…” he growls possessivly, adoringly, gripping you by the ass and hauling you up into to his arms. 

you collapse forward, arms wrapping around bakugou’s neck to steady yourself as he pierces you on his length making it hit the deepest parts of your insides, practically splitting you wide open. your cunt throbs and your throat contracts in unison, a silent scream tearing right from it. “ohmygod! katsuki—“ 

“hold on tight f’me sweet girl, trust me, kay?” the pro hero murmurs into your ear in a candied voice, shaky from the new position and the way he’s lined up inside you so deep. he now holds you over his shaft in his arms, they flex as he slowly begins to lift you up and down on him by pure strength. his knees bend in order for him to bottom out inside you and churn up your syrupy insides. “god, y’feel so fuckin’ good like this, could cum like this baby...d’ya want that?” 

tucking your face into his strong neck, you pacify your flowing tears by pressing light kisses to his honeyed skin— sucking on him for the caramel taste that lingers there. “yes please, want all of you...never haf’ta ask,” you sob erogenously, all of your emotions and searing hankering for katsuki overwhelming your tired and fucked out body. 

you feel weak in his arms, trying your best to roll your hips back down on bakugou’s as he thrusts upwards and directly into your gummy pleasure spot— dragging you by the ankle to your third high. “don’t cry for me baby, already told you ‘m yours. don’t gotta worry ‘bout me goin’ anywhere,” bakugou nips at your earlobe, tracing his tongue stickily along your jawline until it reaches your cheeks and swipes away the stinging tears from your flustered face. “you’re fuckin’ mine, i love you. don’t worry about anything except how good i make you feel. fuck you’re so pretty, wrapped around my cock, cryin’ like this. so pretty, always,” 

the both of you start to lose it together, katsuki’s thrusts becoming impatient and feverish, juices from your pussy flowing down two sets of legs like niagara falls. a thick strand swings between your bodies where his cock plugs your spasming hole, the warm and opaque string finding purchase against your shiny and slick inner thighs. no one could do that to you except for him, no one could ever make you this wet and you weren’t prepared to let that go. 

“daddy—katsuki...can’t...c-can’t, i can’t,” you whinge in full volume, the squelching of your sexes so loud it could wake the neighbours. head shaking, you clamp down against your boyfriend and circle your hips, no matter how hard you try to prolong the night, your body can’t stop chasing the burning high and the white light— you need him to cum, to paint you with all that is him, all of his essence. it hurts so good, you want it so bad. “‘m so close, so fuckin’ close… need you to cum with me, i can’t hold it any longer…” 

bakugou isn’t fairing too good either, his grip on your thighs to manhandle you in a pace to his liking is starting to stutter and become languid— but still, he manages to reach over the swell of your upper thigh and burn shapes into your puffy clit. “whaddya need baby—fuck, just tell me ‘n i’ll fuckin’ give you to world, just wanna cum with you,” he says beginning to write his name; casting his signature over the most intimate part of your body to confirm that his heart and his desire belong to you. “yer gettin’ so tight,” 

lifting your head, with watery eyes you grab his cheeks and smile lazily, alternating the squeezes your sex gives to his cock. “need you to say you love me, suki…”

katsuki smiles, lustful and yet genuine, leaning forward until he’s hunched over you, still in his grip while he fucks shaft, swollen and red and about to burst in and out of your slick hole— wet skin smacking hard and fast against yours at an insatiable speed. 

“i fucking love you, my sweet fucking girl,” 

that’s all it takes for the flood gates to open and for the damn to break— you cup his cheeks and kiss him, tongues slotting against one another perfectly, nostrils flaring with struggling attempts to intake air and bakugou’s hips fail to slow, dragging so fucking deliciously against your inner walls as his seed spills into you, flooding your womb to the brim with so much potent white that you can feel your tummy bulge and see most of it run down your slit and between your ass cheeks, landing on the floor in a puddle with the rest of your prior orgasms. 

bakugou becomes blinded by bright lights and the sight of your pretty cunt swallowing his cock despite how much cum you’ve taken, his entire shaft covered in a thick layer of milky white as he continues to shove it into you, “fuck me baby, fuck me..” he gripes, tone whiny and high pitched while you cum for him, spewing your release against his thighs and abdomen, ruining your own. you cum so hard you feel the blood rush in your ears and the world around you falls away. your nails dig crescent moons into your boyfriend’s shoulders, you absolutely fucking lose it and burst into pleasure filled tears.

“suki—katsuki, baby, ‘m cummin’, don’t stop, don’t fucking stop, don’t you ever stop,“ you babble brainlessly, your mind breaking even as his thrusts slow and the treasure between your thighs is coated with cum. bakugou presses down on your g-spot one last time, catapulting you straight into another orgasm and causing your chest to heave. you squirt hard, clear liquid ejaculating from your sex and covering you both in another messy layer of release— the force is so hard that you manage to push bakugou’s dick out of your contracting hole, he can’t bare to stay away from you for long however, sliding it right between your abused and dilated pussy lips. 

“shit pretty girl, did so good for me, feel so good ‘n you’re still fuckin’ cumming,” katsuki bumps your clit from time to time, watching you jolt in his secure and safe arms while you both collapse to the floor in a mess of souse and tired limbs. the aftershocks of your orgasms pulse through your exhausted body and you curl into your boyfriend, still crying. “shhh, s’okay, daddy’s got you baby, pretty baby— ‘m so proud of you,” 

you sniffle, twitching in katsuki’s embrace. “love you suki, so much,” 

he presses kisses to your hairline, whispering praises with each one and brushes the tears away from your arms. “fuckin’ love you too gorgeous, now let’s getcha up. need you to pee so ya don’t get sick, kay?” 

you nod and bakugou doesn’t make you stand on your own, hauling you back up into his arms and leaving your messy pile of cum and clothes to deal with later. he’s so good to you, you’re so lucky— you can’t help but think when he bathes you and rubs balm into your bruises and sore areas. maybe this didn’t have to end, maybe you’d both be okay after this night and it could go back to the way things were. 

at least that’s what you hope. it feels right to think like that, especially when you curl into his chest and his arm swings lazily over your waist in bed that night and he whispers. “you’re mine forever too,” 

— “EVEN AS WE FADE, EVENTUALLY.” 

you wish you hadn’t gotten your hopes up. 

you wish that you weren’t so naive to think that a few good nights with bakugou could change what was months in the making. you wish that you weren’t so quick to fall for his charms and sweet gestures, the way his lips muttered i love yous and the way his hips would meet yours in the dead of the night, stardust and praise s scattered across your skin along with midnight blue bruises painted by him, along with various other shades.

you fucking wish that you weren’t so foolish to believe that cheap glue and false positives could hold together the broken relationship you tried so desperately to save. the pieces were too small, there was too much and crystal always shatters so beautifully anyways. your mother had taught you that.

you thought that you could last, you thought you had a chance but just like your friends had told you time and time again, you were too good a girl for a man like katsuki bakugou. you were too good to be stuck in an awful place like this. you deserved better and it was bitter to even think that you were the one to beg him to stay, to keep him tied down and in the end it was you to be the one that needed to cut yourself free.

you had the chance to escape. there were no such things as red strings of fate, so you knew realistically that you weren’t tied down. no matter how much you tried to believe bakugou was perfect for you, it was childish to even think so. besides, even if they were, yours was sure to have faded completely. you just couldn’t see yourself staying with him anymore.

it rains on the day you decide to finally do it. 

mina had helped you set up an apartment in her building on the other side of town, she had been so kind throughout the whole thing, held you while you cried and emptied her favourite bottle of pink gin until there were no tears left. the movers had been in and out of your shared place with bakugou all day, you hadn’t the time to buy boxes but kirishima and the guys he recommended had come with some. 

in that time you realised how much of the stuff in your home wasn’t yours— how you lived in a space belonging to someone you barely knew. it was all so surreal, you couldn’t bare yourself to move or to leave when the movers had packed up most of your things and were ready to go. you could leave— you had the time to before bakugou got back from whatever meeting he had, along with his post work run. you could have gone without a word.

but as much as you deserved better, deserved a new life, you knew that you deserved an explanation too.

the door handle wriggles and forceful steps sound from your entryway, but you can’t bring yourself to look up from the very thing that ended it all. that broke your rose tinted window and caused the glass to all come crashing down on top of you— reopening closed wounds. 

bakugou calls your name almost immediately, tearing your gaze from the colourful page. “what the hell is going on? why are there movers outside? where the fuck are they taking our shit?” the blonde bombards you with questions, anger frothing on his tongue as he rips out his head phones and unzips his grey hoodie— hot from rage. 

“her stuff,” kirishima answers for you when your tnroat goes dry and you can’t seem to think— because how the fuck do you talk to the man who broke your heart? your boyfriend notes the box his friend carries as he emerges from your bedroom, it’s probably the last one filled with your clothes, not a single article of his in sight. “i’ll be waiting for you outside,” the redhead adds with a nod in your direction, and you hum, weakly.

he leaves and then it’s just you and bakugou and everything you’ve been waiting to say.

“yn,” you grimace when he calls you by your first name, the gravity of the situation finally daunting on him. you don’t do things like this, in the spur of the moment. you’ve always been the planner of this relationship and the weight in the air tells him something is wrong. “what the fuck is going on? i come home ‘n there’s movers outside, our fuckin’ apartment is empty and fuckin’ kirishima is here?” 

you can’t stand the sound of his voice right now, you can’t believe it was something that once soothed you. that would calm you down within a second of whispering sweet nothings into your ear. so you say nothing, picking up the magazine that sits on your coffee table, freshly printed and brand new— you roll it up and almost gag at the scent of printer ink that brushes past your nostrils. one you’re done, you stand from your seat on your mother’s couch, you’d be taking it with you, and toss the magazine with all your might, hitting the blonde square in the chest.

“yn, why aren’t you fucking answering me? what is this shit?” his usually warm running blood turns freezing cold when he looks at you, reaching down with one hand to swipe up the magazine. he sees how lifeless you look, how dull and colourless your eyes are but he still avoids looking at the paper in his hands.

you swallow, looking away with a sniff and crossing your arms over your chest. the sweater you wear isn’t his, but one of kaminari’s instead. bakugou’s chest starts to hurt. “just read it, bakugou.” 

you don’t call him by a pet name, you don’t call him by his first name. you don’t even let your gaze trail back to the man you’ve loved for so many years. so anxiety sparks in his bloodstream and expels into the cool air of your emptier-than-usual apartment and katsuki bakugou finally looks at the damn magazine crumpling in his hands.

and sprawled across the front page in big angry red letters, an obvious picture to match is “PRO HERO: KATSUKI BAKUGOU— CHEATER?” along with a photo of him caught in a lip lock with your close friend ochako uraraka.

bakugou’s world stills. “where did you get this?” 

“so this picture is real? it’s not a PR stunt?” you answer katsuki’s question with a question, watching his red eyes dart across the page. you’re not a fool, you’d studied the picture for hours on end since the first time you saw it, you were with him long enough to know that the way he cupped ochako’s cheeks was the same way he held you before every kiss you’d ever shared for years. you can tell just from one look at the photo that there was love in his eyes when looked at her. 

and from the way his face falls, you can tell that your suspicions are far from wrong. 

you wish harder than ever, harder than the rainfall that you didn’t believe in soulmates. that you’d listened to your friends and to your mother. 

“baby, please—“ 

bakugou clams up, fear settling on his cursedly beautiful features. he takes two steps towards you, desperate to pull you into his arms and fill your head will more pretty lies just to keep you sedated and by his side— but you shake your head, throat hoarse from holding back tears. “no, no.” you tell yourself, more so than him, to stop yourself from forgiving him yet again. “i trusted you, i gave you so many chances to fix what we had and i trusted you to every single fucking time bakugou.” you take a deep breath to steady yourself, the world spinning as you start to grow queasy. “i loved you so much that i broke myself in two, i sat embarrassed by my friends because i was so in love with you, i believed you would change for me…” 

stupid heart, stupid love, stupid you. bakugou doesn’t say anything more, sits there and takes everything you throw at him because he knows what he did was wrong, beyond wrong. he knows that he fucked up. “‘m sorry, you know that i am, it didn’t mean anything,” he tries to defend himself, knowing his words will fall on death ears.

pausing your ramblings, you laugh shortly despite your watery red eyes and the knife of betrayal in your chest that stops you from breathing. you can’t think clearly, you can’t stand still and you know as you pace that bakugou is a smear in your mind where your heart has been ruined. “sorry isn’t going to fix it this time, you cheated on me bakugou, you cheated on me with someone we both called a friend—“ you throw your hands up, shaking your head in dismay, looking up at the ceiling to blink back your heavy tears and hide them from him. the last thing you need is finding the strength to break up with  katsuki bakugou only for him to see you as weak. “ochako…” you hum, through trembling lips. “her? really? how could you do that me, to deku? we’re two good people—“ 

“don’t you think i know that? fuck, i never meant to hurt you, i didn’t want to hurt you but holy shit i did and fuck—“ bakugou says, scrambling to find his words— running a hand through his damp locks with his chest pounding, realising the weight of his actions only now. he looks up at you, red eyes frenzied and panicked. “fuckfuckfuck, does deku know?” 

you sit down, just so tired. hearing that someone who meant the world to you, who was your everything and then some admit that he willing hurt you and broke you—puts a heavy weight on your shoulders. you don’t know where to go from here, what to do, just that he’s ruined you. “of course izuku knows, he’s the one who...who showed me the paper,” you whisper, biting your lip to gather yourself. you could leave now, knowing what did you did— but for some reason you wait to see if anything katsuki says could fix this. you wait for him like you always do. “ochako’s PR agent sent the magazine to their address, he opened it thinking it was their wedding magazine. their wedding magazine, bakugou. they were happy, we were happy—“ 

he shakes his head, slamming a fist down on the coffee table as he kneels opposite you. “we were lonely—“ bakugou shouts, pain filling the room easily just like his presence does. 

“you were lonely? i was the one who sat here waiting for you to come home every night, the one who patched you up, the one who loved you no matter what kind of shit you gave me or put me through, fuck you katsuki, honestly fuck you.” you start to shout through your sobs, hurting your vocal chords and you’re so loud you can see the movers flinch outside. “i loved you...doesn’t that mean anything to you?” 

he pinches the bridge of his nose and for the first time since you started dating, you see bakugou start to cry. “of course it did,” he hiccups lowly, barely noticeable to anyone who didn’t know him like you did. “fuck, yn, i loved you so much but so did she,” katsuki doesn’t dare speak ochako’s name in fear of setting you off and making you leave without a chance to explain himself. “she understood me, what it was like to be a hero and have everyone rely on you for your quirk where you fuckin’ nagged me for it.” 

“it always comes back down to the fact that i’m quirkless, you can never get over that. you never could since you went pro,” you scoff, licking your top lip to get rid of salty tears. the pro hero whispers an apology but you ignore it. “you say she loved you...how long were you together?”

there’s a beat of silence before the blonde answers you. “months,” 

you cringe. “how many?” 

“yn—” 

“did you love her?” 

“yn don’t fuckin’ do this—“ 

“did you love her, bakugou? hell, did you sleep with her too?” 

he chokes back a sob, looking away from you and pressing his palms together. “yes i slept with ochako, and yes i loved her, fuck but i loved you more—“ 

“that’s selfish,” you tell him directly, breathing shakily and willing yourself not to cry more than you already have in front of him. kirishima was sure to get an earful of it later. you feel sick to the stomach knowing that while he used you, held you, fucked you— he was doing the same to someone else.  “you don’t love in the day and her at night. that’s so fucking selfish. i should have listened all those times when your friends told me to leave you, i should have listened, but i wanted you so bad, i wanted to marry you and when i saw that ring in your sock draw, i thought you wanted me too.” 

you share a look with him, hoping that his eyes will reveal the truth to you just as they always had because if you could see in that ruby abyss that he wanted to marry you— just maybe, maybe you could stay. but then katsuki’s eyes twitch and you uncover the betrayal and the lies woven in with the dark flecks of his eyes and your stomach drops, your heart stops beating and time stands still.

“that ring wasn’t for me, was it?” you ask.

you shrink back when bakugou makes a reach for you, his chest heaving and pain on his face that probably mirrors yours. you back up on the couch, breaking into millions of tiny crystalline pieces as if the pro hero had dropped a sledge hammer on top of you. katsuki bakugou was never going to marry you, he was going to marry her. ochako uraraka. you see it all, it seeps from his pores and fills the room, which is suddenly too hot, you scratch at your arms, scrambling to stand up and gather your phone with your coat. 

you need to get out.

“baby, baby please— please listen to me—“ katsuki starts to beg as you gather yourself together, speeding things up as your heart breaks in your chest and you burst into loud, noticeable tears. “baby don’t leave, please don’t go, just listen…” he babbles and reaches out to grab you, his world practically ends when you flinch back. “you weren’t supposed to find out like this, it wasn’t supposed to end this way...”

“don’t. dont touch me, don’t talk to me, don’t you ever come near me again, you…” you stumble over the words in your head but keep them steady as you speak, shrugging your coat and hood on, ripping your body away from bakugou’s. “you fucking prick.” 

so you leave it all behind, running out of the apartment into the rain as it washes off all the memories you hold of you and katsuki together. you dash down the street and wave to the movers truck, signalling that they can leave— bakugou hot on your trail. in three short strides you reach kirishima’s car, tears swimming with the rain that sticks to your clothes and jump into the passengers side. 

kirishima jumps, throwing his phone into the cubby and looks to you while you buckle yourself in. “woah—hey! slow down,” eijirou tells you, reaching over to fix your seatbelt while you fumble with it, delaying your breakdown even more. “what happened? are you okay?” 

“no, just—“ you shake your head, drowning out bakugou’s cries for you in the street, catching him standing soaked in the rare view mirror. “please just drive, eiji,”  you whisper brokenly to your red haired friend, who nods and sets the car into drive— setting route for his place with kaminari instead of your new home. the movers will know where to go, they have your address and keys too.

slumping in your seat, you check the mirror one last time to see katsuki on his knees, on the floor in the rain— his form growing smaller and smaller the further you get from him.

you sniff turning off your phone to avoid any texts from him. “he’ll catch a cold,” you say to no one in particular, even though eijirou looks to you worridley. “not that… i should care anymore.” 

and you shouldn’t, katsuki bakugou isn’t your responsibility anymore. 

he only was when he loved you, really.