#straight up i heard through my window a neighbor's plate shatter

[theatsthetic]

Stages Of My Sickness

depicted in self-portraits

[hyungieyoongi]

Spotlight: “Run Away to You” Part 3

You knew it was just a matter of time before someone figured it out.

Your carefully constructed reality was about to shatter.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Former Actress!Reader

Word Count: 2.0K

Genre: Angst + Fluff (there’s a hug and everything there is fluff on the horizon!!)

Series Masterlist: Run Away to You

Premise: You ran away from your acting career one year ago, disappearing from the spotlight without a trace. No one from your past life knew where to find you. On the anniversary of your disappearance, your carefully constructed reality is shattered.

Part 2 // Part 4

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You blinked your eyes a few times to adjust to the brightness of the morning as the sunlight streamed into your room through the crack in your curtains. Your eyelids felt heavy with exhaustion. Glancing at the clock on your nightstand, you let out an audible groan at the time. It was 9:30 a.m., meaning you had slept for four short hours, your brain and restless thoughts refusing to let you sleep until the early hours of the morning.  

After you were finally able to stop the onslaught of tears last night, you sat with Marianne on your carpet and told her everything that happened: colliding with Yoongi at the corner store, the fight in your apartment, and how he comforted you during your panic attack. When she asked about the phone call from your old number, you simply played her the last voicemail Yoongi left you, letting his words sink in on their own.

“Shit,” Marianne breathed out.

“Tell me about it,” you agreed.

Your head was pounding, making you feel like you were suffering a hangover this morning from the lack of sleep combined with the many tears you cried. You went into the bathroom and turned on the shower, hoping the scalding hot water would burn away the memories of everything that had transpired.

You decided to avoid looking at either one of your phones, old or new, when you got out and dressed. Instead, you decided to try and convince your neighbor to let you take her dog on a walk. You desperately needed some company and fresh air to clear your head.

Donning the black hat on the hook by the door this time, you locked the door behind you. At the end of the hallway, you spotted your neighbor holding her little black pug in her arms, peering slightly over the railing at the end that looked out onto the sidewalk and street below.

“Hi there, good morning! What’s going on?” you asked, hoping your attempt at cheerfulness was convincing.

“You have to see this. There are cameras all over the place! The landlord had to come to shoo them from the stairwell and elevator this morning. Apparently, someone famous was sighted here yesterday, and now they’re looking for someone they say lives here? It’s quite the scene down there,” Susan let her pug down as she told you the news. He came bounding over to you, expecting to be showered with cuddles and kisses. Instead, you stood frozen in place, taking in everything Susan had just said.

“Cameras? There are cameras down there? In front of the building?” you asked.

“Yes, dear, isn’t that strange? I wonder if we have a celebrity in our midst!”

You let out a cough, giving Susan a fake excuse that you forgot a jacket so you could leave, ignoring her pug yapping at you for attention.

You were back in your apartment before Susan could question your odd behavior, grabbing your phone that you blatantly ignored when you woke up this morning.

You opened Twitter, going straight to the trending page.

The picture at the top of the list was blurry, but you could clearly make out two figures. It was a picture of you and Yoongi, walking to your apartment from the store. It looked like it had been taken on a phone camera, probably from the park across the street. Someone had to have recognized Yoongi, and now, there were cameras outside your apartment complex.

The picture causing a frenzy didn’t show your face, your hair covering your profile. You scrolled rapidly through some of the comments, people speculating about who the “mystery girl” was that Yoongi was with yesterday.

You knew it was just a matter of time before someone figured it out.

Your carefully constructed reality was about to shatter.

---

Yoongi’s phone was vibrating nonstop on the bed next to him. He tried to ignore it, shoving his face further under the thick comforter, hoping whoever was trying to reach him would just give up eventually.

When it started to vibrate incessantly once again, he finally glanced at the screen, fully prepared to yell at whoever woke him up.

An old picture of you filled his screen, one that Yoongi took when you first started seeing each other. You had fallen asleep on his shoulder after a long day of filming. You looked so at peace, one of his sweaters that you stole from his closet wrapped around your frame. He had snapped a photo, setting it as your contact photo, smiling at it every time you called.

He had never changed it.

Yoongi immediately sat up when he realized you were calling. He assumed he would never hear from you again, that the chapter between you two was officially closed. This time for good.

He answered on the third ring, but didn’t say anything, waiting to see if the call was an accident.

“…Yoongi?” his heart lurched at the sound of his name.

“Yes?” he asked tentatively, his voice rough with sleep.

“I need help. There’s a picture…of us. Together. I tried to call Marianne, but she didn’t answer. Yoongi, I…I don’t know what to do. I need help,” Yoongi waited, holding his breath, “I need you.”

He threw the covers off himself, already heading toward the door of his bedroom. You sounded so scared.

“I’ll come get you. Tell me where you are.”

---

Yoongi had given you careful instructions over the phone, his voice calm and calculated. You were supposed to wait in your apartment until exactly 10:30 a.m. and head down the back staircase to the alley behind your building. A car would be waiting for you there.

He told you to wear a mask and act casual, like you were just getting into a rideshare car. Be invisible and inconspicuous.

A black SUV was idling in your alleyway. You opened the backseat door on the driver’s side, shutting it quickly behind you.

“Miss Y/L/N?” the driver asked, turning around to face you. He had a kind smile, eyes slightly crinkling in the corners from his upturned lips. You nodded once.

“Good morning, I’ll be driving you to Mr. Min’s location. He requested that we send this particular vehicle because the windows are tinted for maximum security. Please make yourself comfortable.”

“Thank you,” you said, relieved.

Despite the driver’s assurance, you turned your head away from the window as the car passed the hoard of photographers outside of your building. They seemed to be getting restless with the lack of people coming in and out of your complex. You were grateful to be heading as far away from there as possible.

The car eventually reached a gate, the security guard waving the car forward once it checked the license plates. You pulled into an underground garage. You weren’t familiar with the building; you figured that Yoongi and the boys had moved within the last year as their label continued to grow.

The driver cleared his throat to get your attention.

“Mr. Min would like you to take the elevator, the one just there, ma’am,” he said pointing to the nearest set of silver doors, “to floor 16. He will meet you there.”

“Thank you, you honestly saved me today,” you told him with a grateful smile. He gave you another crinkle-eyed grin.

“It’s nothing, really. Give my regards to Mr. Min.”

“I will.”

The elevator lurched upward toward floor 16, and you realized you had no idea what to say to Yoongi. The doors opened, and you were startled when the man in question was pacing in front of the elevator doors, looking frazzled as he evidently waited for your arrival.

His head snapped toward the open doors when he heard the “bing” of the elevator.

“You made it,” he said simply when you walked toward him.

“Thanks to you,” you replied. “Yoongi, I can’t thank you enough. I know this is the last thing you probably expected today, but I appreciate it more than I can tell you.”

If you weren’t mistaken, there was a pink tinge on his cheeks at your words.

“We have a strategy meeting to get to. The label has some, uh, concerns about the photo.”

Your heart sank at his words, but you realized it was time to stop letting your emotions about the situation run the show. You were potentially going to be forced back into the spotlight you had tried so hard to stay away from. It was time to be professional about this.

“Right. Of course, lead the way,” your tone had become formal, sickly sweet and stiff. It felt unbelievably awkward after spilling your heart out to him yesterday. But you knew your place–you were just part of his label’s damage control problems for the day.

He turned on his heel, leading you down the long hallway, shoes clicking against the tile floor. You followed a foot behind him, wanting to give him, and you, space.

In the meeting, you gritted your teeth, your hands balled into fists underneath the table as you listened to a group of label management and the public relations team discuss what messaging, if any, to put out. Would it be better to let it die down on its own? Release a statement saying Yoongi was visiting an “acquaintance”? There were dozens of options they went through. Yoongi’s eyes kept straying to look at you, but your eyes stayed on the clock above the PR analyst’s head across from you.

When they started discussing whether to release your identity, however, you decided enough was enough. You stood, Yoongi watching your every move.

“Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, but I would feel more comfortable if my publicist was contacted before any decisions are made regarding the release of my private information,” you had worked in this industry, too, and hell, you weren’t going to let these people dictate your life. “As you can imagine, this has the potential to have far-reaching consequences on my own livelihood. It would be best to take no further action until she is in this room with you. Otherwise, I will be forced to contact my attorney.”

The room was silent.  

“Until then, I’ll take my leave. Thank you,” you left with a flourish, the adrenaline leaving you as soon as you made it into the hallway. You didn’t know where you were going, you just couldn’t stay still, your feet carrying you away from the room and the murmurs going on inside of it.

“Y/N, wait,” Yoongi called after you. You sped up, hoping there was a bathroom or something nearby that you could go hide in until Marianne showed up. “Stop walking,” Yoongi’s voice was stern.

You paused mid-step, turning to face him with a blank expression.

“Yes, was there an update from your strategy meeting since I left?” Yoongi rolled his eyes at your comment.

“Y/N, stop, I know what you’re doing. You’re shutting yourself off. I don’t blame you for standing up for yourself back there. But please don’t act like I wanted any part of that meeting,” Yoongi said, defending himself. Your confidence deflated slightly.

“Fine,” you flinched at how harsh you sounded. “I’m sorry. God, all I’ve said to you in the past 24 hours is ‘I’m sorry.’ And I am. I just…this is all…it’s a lot. I didn’t expect to see you again so soon, let alone under these circumstances.”

“My studio is a few floors below us. Come on, let’s get out of here while they figure it out,” Yoongi instructed. He walked past you, but you reached out, hand encircling his wrist to stop him. Your skin burned where it touched his.

“I wasn’t ready for any of this again. It’s all too much, too soon. If people find out who I am, my whole life will change, Yoongi. I-I don’t know if I can handle that.” Yoongi didn’t say anything, so you pulled your fingers away from his arm, expecting him to continue on his way to his studio.

Instead, he wrapped you tightly in his arms, pulling you close against him. He smelled like mint and coffee, and you closed your eyes at the familiarity of it, warmth blooming in your chest.

“It’ll be okay,” Yoongi mumbled, cheek pressed against the top of your head.

Enclosed in the comfort of his embrace, you decided to believe him.

Part 2 // Part 4

---

Taglist: @loveyoongles @agustd-2020 @delacyrose224 @crispychanniee @sunshinejunghoseokie @jinsearthh @alpacaparkaseok @sheebaba @diamonddia-mond​

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[burnedbyshoto]

deception

“Don’t you see what he’s doing to you?! He’s hurt you way more than what’s acceptable in a sparring march! You’re bruised and hurting, and he sure as hell doesn’t seem to care that this is the state he’s left you in.”

— Or in which, Hawks manipulates how you view your boyfriend, Shouto. —

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pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, angst, cursing, alcohol consumption, manipulation, 18+, smut, first time sex, body worship, oral (receiving and giving), and praise

word count: 10,223

a/n: this was a commission! it was very fun to write this once I got around to it... life has just been... well you guys know because youre living it too. but I hope you enjoy this!!!!

edit: OMG AND SUPER BIG THANK YOU TO @marilla-eldriana​ FOR HELPING ME

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Being a student at Yuuei was a privilege.

Every year only two hundred and twenty students were admitted from a drawing pool reaching into the thousands. From there, only forty were admitted into the Hero Department, and finally, only three per year were granted the title of the Big Three.

“Watch out!”

You watched as Hawks crashed through the window to your left, and you looked down at him with a wide grin, what an idiot.

“I thought speed was better than power,” you mock watching as the villain the two of you had been hunting for some time now easily flicked the number two hero to the side.

“And that’s why I got you, isn’t it?” he chirped before rolling onto his feet. 

You shrug, the smile on your face telling a different story while you both stared down the villain you had corned. There was no way you were going to let him go, no, this hunt was going to end now.

“I’ll assist you,” Hawks whispered, and your stomach fluttered in anticipation.

There weren’t many times in your internship where Hawks would say that. Working with one of the fastest and swiftest Pro Heroes ever meant that you were always fighting for a spot on the table. The days of Hawks swooping over the city faster than the eye could follow were still there; in fact, most of his sidekicks were probably cleaning up the mess the two of you had left five cities behind you. 

But you were different than them, you guessed.

You were only fifteen years old when Hawks scouted you for an internship, and while you had heard the rumors of what working with the — at the time — number three hero was like, it wasn’t like that. Speed was something you had always lacked. Sure, you were faster than any past Olympian, and any ordinary citizen, but in comparison to your hero peers, you were slow. After a humiliating loss of your first Sports Festival on account of being too slow, it was an almost sweet irony that the fastest Hero took an interest in you.

But it was good. Three years you had worked with him, three years of learning how to keep up with the fastest hero by breaking your body down on multiple occasions. At first, it had been just trying to keep up with his sidekicks who cleaned up after his mess, who were extremely quick as it is. Then after figuring out how to use your power quirk to make yourself faster, something that had been helped with a fight or flight response on your own end, you were able to become faster than most Pros.

But that wasn’t anything in comparison to Hawks still, but when a sixteen-year-old girl saves your life because you overshot your ability to fight, it’s easy to incorporate said sixteen-year-old girl into your regular routine. 

The initial introduction of you into his regular routine was less than ideal, he had simply stated to follow after him and would be gone. But with time, he took to holding onto you while he flew, which meant that you needed to include glasses and ear protectors into your costume. 

With the glass crushing under the weight of your shoes, you crotched the slightest bit, looking over at Hawks with a smirk. Three years of teamwork had lead to moments like these, no need to communicate, and with a raise of an eyebrow, he nodded.

The feeling of his feathers skimming your back shot the anxiety coursing through you, and you ran out of the shattered window, Hawks hot on your heel and the villain coming straight at you.

In the long run, it didn’t mean much that you were physically stronger than Hawks could ever be, but it sure made you smile knowing that you were.

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“And that’s another point for me!” you grin watching as the police took the villain into their car, Hawks stood next to you with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.

“What will I do? I have eighty-seven points, and that makes what? Twelve?”

“It’s not my fault you go for slow as shit villains,” you accuse, turning your nose up at him.

“Oh yeah? Should we hunt for the fa—”

“Hawks!”

The two of you froze in your quarrel, turning to a man who was towering over the two of you.

Endeavor.

“Endeavor, hi!” Hawks erupted into a wide grin, his eyes brightening while he looked up at the man he admired. 

Trying to hide your snicker, you tilted your head, and your eyes widened seeing three boys behind him.

“Hey guys!” you wave at your classmates behind Endeavor.

“Y/h/n!” Deku greeted you with a large grin and a bow.

You smiled, even more, seeing the way that Bakugou and Shouto both addressed you in their own ways. 

“How are you guys doing?”

The rather one-sided conversation between you and Deku made you laugh on many instances. It seemed that being the only work-study students had meant that they were always getting their asses beat. Not that you didn’t already know this, it was just humorous hearing it coming from Deku’s mouth.  

“Is Tokoyami-kun not with you guys?” Deku asked, looking around at last for the raven headed student who did, in fact, work with Hawks.

“Not today! A neighboring agency requested his help, so it’s just Hawks and me today!” you nodded your head at the three boys who were quite famous within Japan. 

“Are you okay? We heard about the villain; that’s why we’re here,” Shouto spoke, his eyes curious, and his head tilts.

Your face warms when you smile, nodding gratefully.

“I am,” you clasp your hands together, “Hawks got sent through a building, though.”

“Some fucking number two hero,” Bakugou scoffed, and you snickered not wanting to agree with your stupidly observant boss behind you.

“You guys look less than put together; what happened to you?” you asked, noticing the scruffs and dirt on all of their faces.

“Bakugou and Midoriya got into a fight mid-air, and I happened to be in the fire zone,” Shouto rolled his eyes. At the same time, your friends exploded into offensive and defensive arguments, respectively. “We fell into the middle of some villain fight weirdly enough.”

While you grinned at Shouto, your eyes locked completely, you knew it wouldn’t last.

“Alright, y/h/n, Endeavor says there’s a villain seven blocks ahead, and I think we can beat them there!” Hawks laughs, and you can’t say your goodbyes because his hands lift you into the air. “See you guys there!”

And you were off.

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Your limbs ached slightly when you reentered campus grounds. With your case in your right hand, there was nothing to do except trudge ahead, hoping to get to your dorm quickly. 

“You’re back.”

You blinked and saw Shouto approaching you. He was in a casual outfit, most likely having been here for some time, seeing that it was eight at night. 

“What are you doing out so late?” you ask, pushing down your skirt in hopes to look presentable even with the bandage on your chin.

“I was waiting for you,” Shouto smiles gently, his hand brushing your cheek, observing the injury on your face. “You okay?”

“It was just a scratch, nothing too crazy,” you promise, and you smile under his warm touch.

There isn’t much surprise when his lips come and press against yours, and you hum contently feeling his warm skin moving gently against yours. 

“I’m glad you’re back,” Shouto whispered, finally pulling away from you. You groaned, having not been satisfied with the simple liplock, but opened your eyes to see that he was studying your face again.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” you tease, your nose scrunching with your words.

“I have so many already.”

“I know,” you smile, dragging him away, “I’m starving.”

It didn’t take long for you to get a proper dinner. With you being out for your only day off, you were pleased to see that there was a plate of food waiting for you that was left behind by your classmates. So you sat in the dining area of the dorm, eating the food while talking with Shouto.

You told him about the rest of your day, of how the two of you were close to cracking this case of serial cases of disappearing Pro Heroes who would reemerge days later without memory. The two of you had been working on it for a week now and had multiple promising leads. With the end of your career at UA coming in only five days, you were excited about the possibility of cracking this case after your graduation to help give you a good running start as a sidekick on the Hero Charts.

But before you knew it, it was already past eleven, and with classes tomorrow, it was time for you to go your separate ways.

“You don’t want me to spend the night?” he asks while you walk unconvincingly to the door of your floor, your hands grasping his. 

“You know that I do, but I can’t let that happen yet,” you pout, watching as Shouto nods in understanding. “Soon, I swear.”

“I just can’t believe my girlfriend has no self-control that I can’t even sleep in her bed without her wanting to fuck me,” Shouto sighs and while you splutter, telling him how he’s wrong, he places a goodnight kiss onto your forehead and leaves with a kind smile and a small wave.

Stupid son of a bitch.

But he wasn’t wrong.

You had morals and ethics that you had told to Shouto well before things turned serious for the two of you. Sex was something you were always nervous about, not in the sense that it was a bad thing — god forbid you’d ever slut-shame anyone — but more that you wanted it to be special.

It had to be with the right person at the right time.

Shouto was someone you knew was the right person, but as your hormonal feelings for Shouto grew and you realized one late night that you were grinding against his bucking hips, your face hot, his lips and teeth pulling at the sensitive flesh of your neck did you realize that this was so not okay. You had pushed Shouto onto the ground, his eyes dazed and confused while you began to say that you were so not ready for this step of the relationship. But it wasn’t like it was the only time you’ve blue balled your boyfriend… no, you had done it time and time again.

So much so that Shouto practically refused to be in a room alone with you now because it always ended with one of you pinned to the bed and Shouto being launched onto the floor.

With a sigh, you watched Shouto turn around, walking backward with a small wave and a grin when you blew him a kiss and flipped him off. He called you the moment he was back in his room, and although you weren’t letting him stay in your bed with you, you did fall asleep on the line with him, his steady breathing lulling your heavy eyes to sleep.

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Hawks watched while you trudged into his office, your face pulled into a pout, a bandage sitting on your cheek. 

“Morning,” you call out, exhaustion evident on your face.

“What’s up with you?” he smirks, watching you walk to his desk and slumping onto a chair, your eyes closing.

“So tired,” you murmur, your head nestling into your arms, ready to fall asleep. “I didn’t sleep much last night?”

“Why’s that?”

“Stupid boyfriend,” you mumbled.

It had been three days since you had last been in the office, with graduation preparations, Hawks couldn’t call you out as often. But that wasn’t what he was concerned about, no. Hawks froze, replaying your words in his head like a broken record. He didn’t know you had a—

“Boyfriend?”

Those words passing his lips only made you groan louder, your head nodding, “Yeah… I’m dating Endeavor's son Shouto… for about… a year now!”

Hawks' brain went into overdrive.

A year of dating, and this was the first he’s ever heard of it! He had been your mentor, your boss, for three years and never before had you even mentioned a boyfriend before. Hawks lips pressed together, a looming pit of jealousy forming in his stomach. His feathers fluttered, his arms crossing.

Hawks was used to knowing everything, to being able to get what he wanted most, and he was planning on asking you out when you graduated. He had sworn his feelings had been returned; after all, who couldn’t find themselves falling for the young and hot number two hero?

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah! I can have him steal you a pair of Endeavors underwear if you want, I know you’d like that!”

Hawks looks down at your teasing face, his nose scrunching in mock disgust, “Please, I don’t need a baby stealing Endeavors underwear for me. I can get them myself!”

Your smile is warm, and Hawks watches while you pull out your phone, quickly texting something.

“What? Telling your boyfriend you made it safe and sound?”

“Actually… yeah…” you mumble while finishing up your text.

Now Hawks wasn’t evil, he knew that; he also wasn’t used to losing, because that wasn’t him. But there was something odd about the way his stomach twisted and his feathers raised at that confirmation, and the words poured from his mouth without him ever having the chance to stop them.

“Does he make you text him?”

You nod, a grateful smile on your face when you drop your phone. “Isn’t it sweet? I think it’s… why are you making that face?”

“What face?” Hawks fluttered his eyes, mock innocence for the first time not sitting correctly on his face.

“That one, Hawks!” you laughed, throwing your case at him. “The one that looks like when I stole your chicken leftovers.”

Hawks snorted, and he shook his head, deciding to walk out of his office to begin his daily routine; after all, these morning conversations were apart of said routine.

“I don’t know... He knows you’re strong and that you’re here with me, and yet he doesn’t trust that you’ll get here? Or is it in a controlling sense?”

“W-What?”

Hawks turned around and looked at you, your eyebrows scrunched, eyes looking down at your phone.

But when your eyes rose to meet his, Hawks simply smiled, his head shaking.

“Never mind!”

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It didn’t stop there. No Hawks had officially lost his brains with how he was approaching this. Everything out of his mouth concerning your boyfriend was bitter, foul, and implementing lies in your mind. A desperate attempt to get you to feel like Shouto wasn’t good enough that he was manipulating you and Hawks watched while you carefully danced to his tune, your frown deepening with every sweet lie that rolled off his lips.

“I’m hanging out with him and his siblings tonight!” you announced after the day at work was done.

Your smile was bright once more, a day on the field improving your mood. Hawks nodded his head, remembering how the Todoroki siblings were good people, and how you also had siblings.

“His siblings too?”

“Yup!” you nod. “I’ve gotten to know his siblings really well! They’re really great! We go over so often, and I like to believe that I’m close with his family now!”

“Oh, that’s sweet!” Hawks smiles, his head tilting to the side. Faux innocence. “How about your family? Is Todoroki close with your family?”

Your jaw opens, and your head drops, your head guilty shaking no. “It’s a bit harder for that to happen, and he met them once and well… it didn’t go too well.”

Hawks eyes widen, his hand rubbing the back of his head with a heavy sigh, “Ah, I see… don’t you think that’s weird?”

“Um… no, not really?”

“Well, as an outsider, and your friend, Imma have to tell you that it’s weird. It sounds like he doesn't like your family? He’s not trying to control you, is he? Not trying to isolate you from them, right?”

Your teeth dig into your lower lip, and Hawks watches with over bubbling joy at the doubt and realization growing on your face. He was hitting the right nerves.

“I-It’s okay!” you chirp, your feet dragging against the floor while you move to leave. “It's probably not that!”

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“Another movie outing with his friends?”

“We’re watching the newest All Might documentary, it’s not like it's a banger!”

“Todoroki just never seems to care to include your friends or do things with your friends. It seems like he’s trying to keep you confide in his friend group.”

“My friends haven’t… they haven’t said anything?”

“Who would? You’re dating the most powerful son of the number one hero, no one would dare to speak up against him, especially if he told them to stay away from you.”

“That doesn’t sound like Shouto…”

“I mean, Todoroki is jealous of the way that your family loves you, and that’s why you’re always with his family. I don’t see any reason why he wouldn’t keep you from your friends too?”

“Oh…”

“You don’t have to believe me, of course! I’m sure he’s a great kid, after all, he did choose you to be his girlfriend.”

You scoff, shoving Hawks with your shoulder. “Shut up.”

“Nah, you’re amazing, y/n, and you should know it.”

“Mkay, pigeon, egg off.”

“Oof, I’m so scared!”

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Your world spun, and you crashed onto your back with a low groan, jolts of nervous energy coursing through your nerves while you remained pinned to the floor. Hawks stared at you from above, his jacket long since discarded, and his hands grasping your wrists while he straddled you.

“Wow, I don’t think I’ve been able to pin you since you were sixteen!” Hawks laughed, but he immediately took notice in the way you were grimacing.

You didn’t do that often, but you weren’t done yet. Shifting your weight up and over, quickly, you managed to pin Hawks to the ground, his head bouncing against the matted floor with a groan of dismay on his skin. Your nose was brushing against his, his warm breath expelling gently against your face. No! You pulled away suddenly, your heart in your throat at the nearly intimate contact. But it was too much movement on your own end because your body screamed at you.

Your breathing was shallow, a feeble attempt to calm the pulsating pain that traveled through your nerves.

“What is it?”

“I was sparring Shouto last night,” you mutter, feeling Hawks’ fingers immediately searching your skin for injuries. “You know how he sucks at close range combat, but he must’ve been practicing with Bakugou and Deku because he’s never been able to land hits like that…”

With your jacket pooling from your shoulder, Hawks fingers traced over the bruises that colored your skin. Ugly purple, green, and yellow all over. You hissed when he applied pressure to one, and you flinched, getting off of him.

“Are you sure this was sparring and him not beating you?!”

“I would know the difference between sparring and an ass beating,” you groaned, your eyebrow scrunching while he took you in more. “Besides, you should see how he is. I still won!”

“Don’t you see what he’s doing to you?! He’s hurt you way more than what’s acceptable in a sparring march! You’re bruised and hurting, and he sure as hell doesn’t seem to care that this is the state he’s left you in.”

You were silent Hawks words ringing heavy in your ears.

Did Shouto… was this a sign that he wasn’t who you thought he was?

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“Shouto?” you whispered, your knuckles rapping at the door, hopeful he was in his room. “Are you in?”

You heard the sound of footsteps against the floor and watched the door open. There Shouto stood, wearing black sweatpants and a white tank he leaned against the door. Your eyes caught sight of the black bruises against his skin courteous of your sparring last night.

“Y/n?” he expresses with a pleasant surprise. Shouto’s hand reaches for yours, but you flinch away, stopping him in his tracks. “Are you okay?”

You swallow the lump in your throat, your head nodding, “Sorry, long day, and um, I’m still sore from yesterday…”

“Yesterday? Ohh~ what happened yesterday?” You watched with the smallest amount of amusement when Sero revealed himself, his arm thrown around Shouto’s shoulder with a stack of manga in his hands. 

“We spared, why?” Shouto asked with that perfect density that Sero stammered, unable to recover from Shouto’s lack of an appropriate response.

“Boring, anyways, I’ll bring these back soon, I promise!”

You and Shouto bid Sero goodnight, and with a sigh and a roll of his eyes, Shouto looked back down at you.

“Care to come in?”

“I would.”

You sat on Shouto tatami, your knees bent with your arms wrapped around them while he rummaged around.

“Here, I made some healing ointment for the bruises,” Shouto said, placing the white container on your knees while he sat in front of you. “I know that even though you won, my kicks probably hurt like a bitch.”

“The biggest bitch,” you agreed, watching while he unscrewed the ointment and began to delicately place the salve on your skin. It immediately cooled down the warm skin, and you studied his face while he did so. His touch was gentle, almost too soft for someone as battle-ready as himself. But he was on a mission to make you feel better, and for every bruise he covered, he apologized.

Soon enough, every bruise was covered, and you didn’t even realize you were crying until Shouto’s eyes widened when he noticed.

“What’s wrong?”

“Do you not trust me?” you ask, the days worth of anxiety that Hawks had been instilling into you, finally pouring from your lips.

“What?!”

“It’s just… with the texting you where I am, and who I’m with even when you know before I leave! A-And how about my family? I always go with your family, but the one time you met mine, it was disastrous! And then you never w-want to hang out with my friends! And you were so hard on me during sparring last night… Did you want to hurt me?! Why are you trying to isolate me?! Are you trying to control me?! You’re a powerful person Shouto a-and with your dad being the most powerful person I just… are you forcing people away from me?!” Tears poured from your eyes, your sleeves rubbing away the tears on your face, the ointment gathering on the fabric,

Shouto instantly reached out to you, but you shifted away from him, your face burning with embarrassment from your outburst. You wanted Hawks to be wrong, Shouto was good. He was an idiot, but he was a good boyfriend. Please prove him wrong, you thought. Please.

“Is that how you feel?” Shouto asked, his voice quiet but steady. His hand was pressed against the duvet, centimeters from your side. Not touching you, but giving you the ability to reach him when you were ready. “I just… I’ve never done this before, you know that. Y/l/n y/n, you are someone that I am way too lucky to have in my life. I asked what are boyfriend appropriate things to do from my classmates, and I guess I might have been overdoing it myself. I ask for a text because I want to make sure you get places okay. I know you’re powerful and can take on anyone, but it’s because you’re powerful; it makes you a target to villains. I honestly thought you liked my siblings a lot, so I wanted to keep you with them because if they’re your friends, you deserve to see them. I am sorry about your family, but they are assholes, and you know that. 

“But if you want to go visit and hang out with them more — with or without me — I would never stop you! I know I can’t keep blaming myself for being new to all of this a year into our relationship, but I didn’t know it was appropriate to invite your friends to hang out with us when we were with my friends. I thought they wouldn’t want to hang out with us guys. I also know you enjoy your alone time, and you tend to spend alone time with your friends, and I never want to intrude. I am so sorry for making you feel this way.”

“No,” you sniffle, your tears turning from one of sadness to those of guilt. “It’s not your fault.”

“It is,” he whispers, his fingers brushing against yours ever so gently. “It’s my fault you felt like I was isolating you, controlling you. You don’t have to forgive me, but if you’re willing to give me a chance to prove myself that I can change, I’d like that.”

There wasn’t stopping the way that you threw yourself into his arms, your tears soaking his neck, and he pressed gentle after gentle kiss against your temple until you were no longer crying.

For the first time in your relationship, you spent the night, and against what you had previously thought, the two of you did nothing more than embrace in a wet lip-lock.

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Graduation finally came around, and to say the least, you were excited.

Finally, you were now a Pro Hero — well, really a sidekick, but that didn’t matter! The entire day you spent it on campus, watching the graduation ceremony take place with your classmates at your side. Tears were shed, photos were taken, and the end of your high school career came to a close. 

Due to your accomplishment, something that wasn’t at all doubted in the first place, Hawks had thrown Tokoyami and you a large party in celebration. You were, after all, the first students to have gone through his agency for all three years of high school, and he deemed that celebratory worthy. 

With such an occasion and countless years ahead of you to be on your top tier game, it was to no surprise that you were letting loose at this party. And yes, by letting loose, you meant being drunk.

Me: shoutoooo baby i loe you oh so much

Shouto: I love you too, make sure you get water to drink and don’t have an empty stomach.

Me: i had dinnerr with you remeber !!!! no empty stomach here!!!!!

Me: im sorry for crying that night that was so dumb of me to being insecure about

Shouto: you should still be eating more if you’re planning on drinking more. And it’s okay, it’s equally my fault as it is yours.

You stared at the text, your vision slightly blurry while you imagined just what you would do with Shouto soon. You bit your lip with a grin, but with a sudden loss of balance, you stumbled back into someone.

“Oops, sorry!” you yelled louder than you expected, turning around to greet whoever you had run into. You saw a familiar face with a bird head standing there with his arms outreached to balance your stumbling form. “Tokoyami-kun! I didn’t know you were still here!!! I would’ve taken a shot with you! Oh my god, I LOVE your jacket! Where did you get it!”

Tokoyami smiled, his head nodding, “I happened to have it lying around, although I can’t remember where I cross paths with it, to begin with. And I couldn’t forsake you by leaving before you were ready. It’ll be pleasant to have you around all the time with Hawks starting in a few days.”

You nodded your head, your hands stretching out in an attempt to respond animatedly, but yelped when you slapped someone instead.

“OH, NO! Did I hurt you?! I’m so sorry!” you exclaim, turning to the second person you had hit in a matter of minutes.

It was Hawks.

“It seems she is quite inebriated,” Tokoyami pointed out, and you nodded in agreement. 

“I am!”

Hawks chuckled, his head shaking, “Imma take her back to my place then, she’s a disaster in the making if we let her stay here.”

There wasn’t room for debate because you were suddenly in his arms and waving goodbye to Tokoyami, your sense of judgment gone.

“Take me hoooomeeee,” you sang into Hawks's ear when he soared into the night sky, and much to your amusement, Hawks continued your song.

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Shouto sat in the common room, his eyes shifting to check his phone every so often. He knew you were drunk, that had been very clear the moment you called him only twenty times pretending to not be you while slurring your sentences. Nothing was stopping the uneasy feeling in his chest after you had explained yourself and your feelings that one night, he had put together that Hawks liked you. But without definite proof, he didn’t want to claim such things.

And while he had no doubts about your ability to protect and defend yourself, there was no saying if that was true if you weren’t sober. Hell, he’s fought you sleepy once, and there was a significant difference between you being alert and you being exhausted. 

Regardless, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he heard something back from you, and with his classmates currently celebrating the end of the year by playing video games, he was there alongside them.

“I’ve returned,” Tokoyami called from the entrance, and Shouto turned around to see the bird head man walking to approach the gathering of the few remaining classmates in front of the common room's TV. He said his greetings before coming to rest by Shouto’s side. “The party was a bit too loud, but I think you would have enjoyed entertaining it.”

“It’s your guys night,” Shouto shrugged his shoulders, “I didn’t need to be there when it was her work friends. How is she doing?”

“Ah, well you see,” Tokoyami nodded his head, his fingers raking through his black hair, “She was quite drunk, so Hawks-san took her back to his place to sober up, most likely spend the night at his place — Todoroki?!”

Shouto had no idea why bitter fire raged in his chest; all he knew is that for the first time ever while he slipped on his shoes and his jacket, he pulled up a contact he didn’t expect he would be using so casually.

“Shouto?!”

“Do you know where Hawks lives, Endeavor?”

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“Are you feeling better?” Hawks asks you, taking the bottle of water from your hands.

The low sparks of the alcohol that had once been coursing through your body had simmered into slow pulses. You knew you weren’t one hundred percent sober, but you were sober enough to realize that you should have asked Hawks to take you to the dorms instead. 

“If you’re asking if I’m no longer sloppy… you’re in luck,” you sigh, a tired grin spreading on your face while you reach for your phone. You frown, seeing that it was dead, but it didn’t matter much; you would get home without it being alive anyways. “Thanks for sobering me up; I think you could have done it back at the party, though.”

Hawks snorted, his head tilting up, his head in thought. “I definitely could have done that, but I didn’t want you taking shots in secret while trying to sober you up.”

“I’m sure you could handle me just fine.”

“The last thing I can remember is that you are physically stronger than me and if you’re drunk… well, I was scared you’d kill me by accident.”

“Haha,” you laugh sarcastically, your eyes rolling in your amusement. 

Silence overtook you both, and your gaze fell to your hands. You wanted to ask him why he was so insistent on Shouto being toxic, and how he did a 180 the second you told him about how the two of you talked things through.

“Did you want me and Shouto to break up?” you ask quietly, unsure of what you wanted him to answer. “I keep thinking of everything, and that’s the only thing that makes sense to me and all the controlling business…”

Hawks stared at you, his eyes void of all emotion, and yet you felt like he was more open to you than he had even been before. His mouth moved to answer, but there was a knock at his door.

With a heavy sigh, Hawks rose to his feet, “I don’t think I should answer your question.”

So there you sat, his once comfortable couch feeling stiff and hard.

“Y/l/n?” Shouto’s voice rang through the apartment, and your eyes widened. You got up off the couch, your head pounding just slightly while you clamored to the front door. There you saw Shouto staring down at Hawks, how funny it was that your eighteen-year-old boyfriend was taller than a twenty-seven years old Pro Hero.

“Tokoyami told me you were here, and I wouldn’t want to bother a busy hero with taking care of my girlfriend when I can do that myself,” Shouto spoke, his eyes narrowing down onto Hawks as the words my girlfriend let his tongue. But it also sent a shiver down your spine, a coursing ember that had been ignored this night, reigniting it once more. 

You were ready, you realized when his blue and grey eyes found yours. 

“Thanks for tonight, Hawks,” you wheeze, grabbing your shoes at the door and quickly pulling them on. “I’ll see you in the office in two days!”

With nothing more to say, you grabbed Shouto by his wrist and pulled him away.

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The campus was quiet when you arrived, the day of excitement having long since simmered down as the clocks read two in the morning. This would be your last night in your dorm, most of your classmates had chosen to move out today as well, but with no one to help you out while you were at the party, you decided to stay one more night. But with the way your blood was pumping, and how you could feel the jealousy coursing through Shouto’s veins, you wanted to get back to your room as quickly as possible.

Entering the dorm building that was made for your class, you felt Shouto pulling his hand from yours, obviously ready to begin his goodnight routine.

Shouto’s hands grasped your cheeks, fingers hot against your cold skin, and his eyes staring down at you. Millions of emotions coursed through his gaze, but you were focused on the one that spoke of his love for you. His lips pressed down against yours, and you met him in full earnest. His lips pulling against yours, sending fire through your body, sensations that sparked only the familiar excitement you had always denied in the past. You could practically taste his unspoken anger and jealousy on his tongue, and it only made you crave more from him.

You were ready.

“Goodnight,” Shouto whispers against your lips softly, and you laugh. Your hands move up to cup his cheeks, and he pulls you in closer, his hands firmly placed onto your lower back. “I’ll come to your room in the morning to help you pack up.”

“Stay the night,” you say softly, your teeth tugging at your lower lip that was warm from his efforts. “I’m ready.”

Shouto’s eyes widened, his eyebrow lifting slightly, “You want to fuck?”

“Don’t say it like that!” you groan, pinching his cheeks in your embarrassment. But his eyes were bright, and the next thing you knew, you were being lifted into the air, and your legs found their place around his waist. “You sap!”

“Prude.”

“Say that one again, I’m finally going to let you smash, whor—”

He shut you up with a kiss.

It’s a slow kiss, one that warmed you up effortlessly, intimate contact pressing between the two of you, but nervous energy chipping through you fully. Your head tilts to the side, the kiss deepening, and your arms pulling him in closer. The two of you pull away slowly, both of your eyes slowly opening to look at each other in a whole new light and a fire under your skin, and something is silent between the two of you. Growing silently, steadily, and coming crashing down all at once.

“I love you…” Shouto murmurs, and that’s all it takes. The movements are desperate now, his steps quick and steady while your mouth clashes against his. Deep, ardent, fulfilling. You can’t help the nervously aggressive make out, tongues pushing against each out, drawing out noises you weren’t quite used to hearing. Low groans and pants you had known, but never in this context, and you were addicted. But Shouto must be thinking the same thing, for when you finally make it to your dorm room’s door, his mouth trails from your mouth. Sloppy and burning hot kisses trail down your cheek, to your jaw, before pressing searingly against your neck, and you mewl at the feel of his warm lips on your neck. Your eyes fluttering closed when his lips left hot and wet kisses on your sensitive skin.

Your lips met again, and this time you wrapped your arms slowly around his neck, and you pull him impossibly closer. His hands are moving vehemently up and down your back, making you shiver and arch against his traveling fingers. But when his nails glide delicately against an exposed piece of skin on you back, you gasped into his mouth, and the door opened loudly against his need to get to your bed.

A soft giggle leaves your lips when darkness falls against your closed eyes, and your hips shift in your state of need. Only that you weren’t expecting to feel him tremble under your actions or the pleasurable hiss that passed to your lips. your eyes opening to see Shouto’s eyes still closed despite the fact he was walking with you. 

“I love you so much,” you whisper into his ear when you pull away from the kiss. Your fingers raking through his hair, your teeth nibbling onto his earlobe, his throaty groan a sign of victory. “Thank you for being wonderful.”

Shouto’s lips are back on yours, greedily seeking more contact, and you don’t hold back as you kiss him back with equal fervor. You feel the mattress of your bed hit your back as you continue to kiss him, sitting up so you could crawl back to let Shouto onto the bed with you. You smile once again as Shouto’s hand rests on the bed frame behind you, while the other one rests on the small of your back, keeping your torsos pressed together.

Your hands are fisted into Shouto’s hair, the small tugs from your hand blazing his own blood, making him press his growing length against your thighs, and his tongue grazes your bottom lip. You moan softly, your head tilting up, and you open up your mouth so that your tongues meet halfway. You start moving to unbutton your graduation outfit, and Shouto hastily pulls away, and your eyes open, his mouth is stained with your the leftovers of your makeup, and he looks concerned. 

“Are you sure, y/n?” Shouto asks, his hands stroking your side. His gaze is intense, unmoving, and challenging. “If you’re not ready for this, I won’t be hurt.”

You stared at him, a soft smile coming to your lips as you sit up, making Shouto sit on his haunches while you move to your knees, “I always knew I wanted my first time to be with you, I just wanted the moment to be perfect… and this is perfect to me,” you confess to Shouto, and you watch his eyes soften when you press a soft kiss to his lips.

Pulling away, you stripped of your clothes and dropped it on the floor next to the bed, your breath hitching as Shouto stares at your now only lingerie-clad body, and you blush. 

“Shit, you’re beautiful,” Shouto murmurs like a man who had seen something divine for the first time ever.

Your heart roars in your chest, your blood pulsating through your sensitive body while he leans in close. His mouth presses against the swell of your breasts, trailing down to the valley between your mounds. Your body quivers in your overwhelming emotions and sensations. Shouto presses you back onto the mattress, his calloused hands pressing right below your breasts, heating emitting in large waves from both hands, making your mind spin in needy desperation.

“Are you okay?” Shouto murmurs, his lips feeling the gentle movements of your body.

“I am,” you breathe, your eyes shut tightly. You wanted to feel his lips and forget everything else in the world. This was a night of passion, and you’d be damned if your anticipation was going to stop you. “Don’t stop.”

A low chuckle vibrated against his throat, sending gentle waves through you, and you moaned the second his fingers pressed against your breasts. Shouto’s hands worked your breasts tentatively, his eyes studying your flushed face while he kneaded the tender flesh.

“F-Fuck,” you moaned when his finger brushed against your erect and clothed nipple, your hips quivering underneath him.

“Did that feel good?” Shouto hums, and when you confirm his thoughts, coldness hits your chest. Your eyes open to see that he’s discarded your bra and that his lips are millimeters from your breasts. “Do you want me to do more to you?”

The words are curious, but you don’t miss the glint in his eye, but he’s long since knocked the air from your lungs.

“I need to hear your words, princess,” Shouto smiles softly, his warm breath fanning against your erect nipples that cried for attention. “What do you say?”

“P-Please…” you breathe, your body squirming in your denied attention.

“Perfect.”

The feeling of his hot and wet mouth encasing your nipple sent you impossibly over the moon, your body arching off the bed, a lament cry heavy on your mouth while his tongue circled and flicked your nipple. His eyes were on you, you could feel his stare burning into your body, but you couldn’t even see, your eyes closed in your throbbing pleasure.

More, you wanted more.

His finger pinched your free nipple, pulling and rolling the pert skin between his fingers, your wanton cries only fueling him further. Liquid heat coursed through your veins, your pleasurable sensations overwhelming you, and your hips began to hump against his clothed thigh. The friction of his jeans against your barely clothed cunt sending you well beyond the confinements of pleasure.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers. “I love you,” he confesses. “You’re gorgeous,” he repeats.

Tender and sweet words fill your ears while he switches where his mouth and hands are. The kneading of your breasts, the manipulation of your nipples, and the way his thigh pressed against your throbbing cunt was sending you over.

Your breathing was unsteady, puffs escaping your lips in an overwhelming and failed attempt to calm yourself down. Shouto was on a mission, however, and his mouth removed from your cool breast with a soft pop, your breasts shining with the coats of saliva, and you shivered.

Shout hummed while he lips pressed the sensitive underside of your breasts, and continued downward, gentle after gentle kiss down your torso, until he made contact with your trembling inner thigh. 

“Do you trust me?” he asks, his fingers toying with the band of your panties. You can barely hear him over the roar of your heart, but you know what he says, and you nod. He smiles kindly, placing one final kiss to your thigh before pulling off your panties. 

Instinctively, your legs try to close, nerves firing away, but Shouto keeps your legs wide open, and his mouth lowers towards your dripping cunt. His tongue takes a languid and slow lick. His tongue slipping between your slit and you arch off the mattress. Your eyes fluttering in their battle to stay open, the addicting sensation of his hot tongue against your equally hot core burning you.

Your legs tremble as he thrusts his tongue within your clenching wet walls, swirling in circles and pushing further in. His fingers thrust into you at an amble speed, aiding to your pleasure sent descent on the mattress. On one lick, one godly irresistibly mind-numbing lick, your thighs come crashing against his head. Shouto’s free hand moves to grip onto your trembling legs. His tongue coaxing your orgasm closer to the edge by speaking a language you knew nothing of.

“S-Shouto!” you curse, your hips rolling desperately against his mouth. Your hips were stammering against his compelling tongue.

Your eyes struggle to remain locked on his eyes, your body twitching with the building pleasure. The electricity igniting in your flesh and bloodstream. You can hear the sounds of your squelching pussy against his moving fingers, and your jaw drops. You’re under his absolute control, and you’re no longer able to hold back anymore, your orgasm is right on edge, but you stop him.

“Wait!” you push him off of you, your chest heaving, and the wet arousal pouring from your cunt was slick against his mouth, and confusion evident on his face. “I don’t want to… I want to cum on your cock.”

“Okay,” Shouto pants with amusement, and you watched when his fingers — which were coated in your essence — slipped into his mouth, sucking it clean. The image of that sent electrifying pleasure through you, and your mouth watered at the thought of sucking him off. “What is it?”

“Get up,” you command, your hands moving to remove the belt around his waist, and he was quick to stand on your bed, and you were on your knees. Your knees buck under your weight, and you help Shouto remove his pants. You watch in an almost lusting virgin horror when his cock springs out from under his underwear. The hard cock slaps against his lower stomach, and you take in the way that his cock is thick, with bulging veins, and precum leaking from his head.

There was no going back, it seemed.

Steeling yourself over, you wait for his feet to be free, and the moment he’s out of his jeans, your hands immediately encompass his length. His girth wide enough you struggled to hold it with one hand. You marveled at the way the skin was unearthly warm and impossibly hard in your grip. This is what was going to be buried in your cunt in moments time?

“Y-Y/n…” Shouto stutters as your hand fists up and down his length in initial unknowing movement. Your eyes snapping up to meet his lust covered ones.

“Now,” you sigh as your thumb rolls over the pre-cum that slips from the tip of his head. “You can’t make fun of me if I’m bad, okay?”

Shouto licks his lips, his eyebrow quirking. “I don’t think that’s possible from you, princess.”

You smile softly, but there’s a strong sense of hope when you notice the tremble in his legs, “We’ll see!”

Licking your lips, your mouth opens, and you let the head of his cock press pass your lips. The dark pink head is hot in your mouth, and your tongue presses against the flat of his head, swirling your tongue around, testing his reaction. By the fluttering of his eyes, and the way that his hands seem to fight whether they should latch onto your hair, you reckon it’s okay. 

So, you push on ahead, moving further down his impressive cock. His girth so full you had to open wider than you were used to. You gasp as you push him further down your throat. Your eyes flashing up to see Shouto struggling to keep his head down and eyes on you. 

Good god, you pray you were wet enough to take him in without lube.

Your mouth sinks down as far as you can go while not choking yourself. Your fingers trailing up and down his toned thighs as you move your head up and down his length. You’re now in a smooth rhythm, bobbing up and down on his cock with enough vigor to make Shouto praise your name.

Your movements signal to Shouto that he can move as well. Shouto groans, and his hips move forward. You relax against his rocking hips, you’re focused on your breathing as his cock moves up and down your throat. Deeper and deeper, you feel his cock move within you. His hand pressing against the back of your neck, and you gag softly against his length.

Your eyes look back up to see Shouto’s eyes closed. Moans and pants spilling out with every thrust, and your cheeks hollow out. Creating a vacuum sensation against his length.

“Oh shit!” Shouto snaps. His hands tangling within your locks as he struggles to not overwhelm you. “You’re amazing, of course, you would be good at this,” he gasps as his cock only goes further down your throat.

You struggle to breathe with his thrusting. His snapping hips overwhelming you with their speed and depth. He’s distracted while he fucks your throat, but you’re even more desperate to keep up. Uncaring about the burning sensation erupting through your airway as he continues at his strength and speed. Your tongue swirls around his thrusting cock. Trailing against his veins as his hips stutter, and your teeth dragging against the sensitive skin.

You moan against his length. The action allowing you to gain more air and sending a loud moan from Shouto’s mouth as his pace increases.

His hips abuse your throat, and you’re delighted in the fact that you’re keeping up. The soft gags that occasionally slip from your mouth, stirring him on. He’s sinful yet heavenly in your mouth, and you want him in your dripping cunt. Your thighs shaking with the mere thought of him having his way with you.

He pulls his length away from your mouth. Your saliva stringing between your mouth and his still erect cock. You cough as you try taking in the air again, the lack of oxygen had been ignored as your pleasure was so high.

“N-Not yet,” Shouto staggers, and you nod in agreement, watching him sink back to the bed.

“Take it off,” you mutter tugging at the hem of Shouto’s t-shirt, and he moves to take it off.

With your teeth tearing into your lower lip, you watch him remove the dark shirt. Shouto’s body had to be a sin while you stared at the rippling muscles on his body, something you had never truly appreciated before. They moved with his body, the faint scars littering his body for you to kiss and count later. 

Tone and lithe. He was beautiful.

Shouto’s lips are back on yours as you kiss deeply, your head tilted to the side as his fingers gently grasp your chin. A shaky moan leaves your mouth at the taste of yourself on his lips and tongue, and Shouto moves his body so that you’re now on your back. The tips of your aroused nipples brush up against Shouto’s naked chest, and both of your release a throaty gasp as you pull him closer to you.

Your bodies were overshot with denied pleasure, and the mountaining need for more was finally being addressed.

Your leg hooks lazily around Shouto’s waist, and a sigh leaves your lips as Shouto gently grasps the back of your leg, running steady, consistent strokes from the end of your thigh to your ass.

A fire is building up in your gut as your hands work their way down to the buttons and zipper of his pants. His hands gripping your waist, and you could feel Shouto’s arousal pressing against your stomach, hot and throbbing with need. You pulled away from Shouto and giggled as he attempted to follow you with closed eyes as you had to brush your hair out of your face, suddenly feeling hot.

“Y/n…” Shouto just about whined, and you smiled softly at him, finding it endearing and the slightest bit hot when he used that tone. 

His hands were on your breasts, slowly stimulating your aroused nipples as he slowly massaged them, making sure to brush your nipple with his thumb every so often, and your head tossed back as you bite down hard on your lower lip. He once again kissed you ever so lovingly, and you felt him pulling away to line his cock with your entrance. You watch with hooded eyes as Shouto presses the head into you, teasing the both of you to extreme lengths, and you wantonly sighed. 

You rest on your elbows, a smile on your face as Shouto moves his messy hair out of his eyes. As you stare at his slightly sweaty face covered by strands of different colored hair, your heart just about bursts.

“Make love to me, Shouto,” you say aloud as Shouto stares at you, his cock removing from your entrance and carted against your clit.

“I plan on it,” he smiles, and he grabs your ankle, pulling you closer to him, and you shriek with laughter until his lips engulf your sounds. “Are you ready?” Shouto asks once more, teasing your entrance with the tip of his dick.

“Whenever you are,” you whisper into his neck, preparing for the initial pain.

You let out a cry of pleasure and pain as he slowly enters you, and you pant heavily, trying to contain your tears as he manages to push all the way in. Your eyes clench as you bit your lip, your head buried into his neck.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you cry as he stretches you out. Shouto is panting too at the feeling of your tight walls clenching against him, they’re unable to relax against his cock. It’s not until the head of his cock hits the wall of your cervix does he stop, and even then he’s not entirely in you.

Your breathing is harsh, and you feel like you’re sweating as you look down at the now joined body. The feeling of him entirely in you makes your head spin, the pressure in your lower belly could be from just Shouto within you or from your slowly growing orgasm, you had no idea.

“Are you o-okay?” Shouto stutters very clearly still adjusting to having his cock in you.

“Yeah, just… trying not to die,” you manage to croak out, and eventually, you collapse onto the bed, looking up at Shouto, who seems to be concentrating hard.

“You’re just super t-tight,” Shouto gasps as you wrap a leg around his waist.

It’s a good move, but it’s too quick as a sharp pleasure pained fire shoots through you as you slam your forehead against his shoulder.

“Too fast,” you snap in regret you try to calm your head. This was too much for you, you felt like every nerve was firing all at once on your inner wall, and no orgasm had reached you yet.

“It’s okay… breathe...”

It takes a few moments, but sure enough, you manage to raise your leg to his waist, and both of you moan at the new level of penetration and the way it made your walls clench around him. “Move,” you command, and Shouto falls onto his forearms as he nods.

Shouto moves his hips back, and slowly almost painfully slow, returns them to the original position, and even with the smallest movement, a lewd moan escapes your lips. Shouto continues going in and out, his hips slowly moving while you start to meet him with every thrust.

Whispers of encouragement escape both your lips as his slow thrusting continues.

Shouto picks up your legs so that they’re both wrapped around his waist, and he comes to lean over you. At the new angle, your head is thrown backward, and you let out a string of soft curses. “Shit, that feels so good,” you cry out in encouragement as you bit down on your lip harshly.

Your lips are soon sought after by Shouto’s as sheen layers of sweat cover both your bodies as the consistent moving of both your hips never falters.

“You’re so fucking tight, shit, you feel so good,” Shouto grunts, his hips picking up in speed as he drills into you faster, the sound of your meeting sweaty bodies echoing in your room.

Soon you can hear the sounds of your bed hitting the wall, and a cry escapes your lips as Shouto’s finger grazes your clit.

“Say my name…” Shouto grunts as he presses harder on your clit, and you can feel the coil within you getting tighter, but at the moment, all you can give is wordless cries. “Say it, y/n.”

“S-Shouto!” you scream out as you shake with an overwhelming need to climax, but Shouto’s finger leaves your clit and goes to keep your hands above your head.

“Are you enjoying this?” Shouto teases as he slams into you at full force again, your cunt tightening sinfully against his length, electricity coursing through your veins while you cry his name. “You’re so good, shit.”

“Oh my god, yes, Shouto!” your voice splutters, and his hands leave your wrist to gently pinch your nipple and clit. You go speechless, and your mind spins as he pulls one of your legs onto his shoulder, and all you can do is let your jaw drop as the new position lets you see stars.

You couldn’t take the feeling of how his body moved entirely within you, the strength and power behind his every move were almost too natural as if this was an everyday thing. You let out noises similar to a purr, grinding your cunt against his conquesting cock and laughing breathlessly at his low groan.

“You like this, princess?” Shouto nips at your throat, his thrusts making you shriek out his name as he buries you further into the bed, your nails digging into his flesh at the back of his neck. You nod rapidly, your eyes closed, your mouth open, your pants tumbling from your mouth. He wasn’t going too fast, just fast enough to have wet smacks echoing through the room, but every thrust seemed to have his cock being pulled out of you nearly completely. He pulled out entirely so he would have the ability to drill back into your wet cunt. The noises of your connecting wet sex left loud echo with your squelching pussy around his hot cock.

The muscles on his back seemed to flare dramatically, your screams turning silent due to your approval of this.

“I needa cum,” you shriek, the fire in your face as bright and hot as the one between your legs. His sweaty forehead pressed against yours, and his lips recapture yours.

Your mind goes blank when a mighty crash goes through you. But Shouto must not have felt the spastic vice-like clamping of your inner walls as he continues pistoling his hips into you, hitting your cervix, and pushing it further up with every slam. You cry against his mouth, your hands shoving at his shoulders as the feeling of your orgasm was too strong to deny, and he slips out of you.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he moans, his mouth connecting with your breast, and once again slams into you.

Your scream is silent, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your fingers digging into his neck, and your toes curl. His hips are driving, persistent, and have a goal in mind. You can barely keep up with him, your long overstimulated body wanting to collapse at the seams, but he doesn’t stop.

The bed creaks loudly under you, headboard crashing into the wall, over and over again.

“Cum, baby,” you beg, your hips wildly thrashing against his. “Cum..”

That’s all it takes, and a hot and heavy load shoots through you, and Shouto collapses onto you at the same time the bed falls. Neither one of you reacts as gravity shifts you both slightly downwards, but your mind is too full of Shouto to care. His body twitching while his cock remains hard within you, the feeling of his cum swimming in your cunt, making your head spin with euphoria.

Drowsiness hits you quickly, and Shouto’s body heat is quickly putting you to sleep.

He pulls out of you gently, and the feeling of his cock no longer in you makes you whimper, your nose burying into his neck as he flips the two of you over so that you’re laying on his chest. His hands send warm and cooling waves through your body, helping soothe the aches in your tired body.

“That was…” you mumble, your mind unable to think straight.

“Something?”

You snort, your head nodding.

“Yeah… something…”

“I love you, y/n,” Shouto whispers against your temple, and you sigh, contentness and warmth flooding your aching body.

“I love you, too.”

[bang-and-a-blintz]

Through the Darkness

CHAPTER FIVE - THEM GATORS

Fandom: Dracula (2020)  

Relationship: Dracula/Roxana(OFC)  

Rating: Mature  

Warnings: None  

Word Count: 2,993

The moon had an eerie glow as it casted its light through the drapery of hanging moss and onto the murky waters of the swamp below. It was a heavily hot and humid evening, sweat dripped steadily down her back as Roxana watched the scene before her with disinterest. 

Despite the shine of the moon, it was still difficult to see, but what she heard was unmistakable. Garbled shouts along with the occasional high-pitched shriek countered the spine-chilling sounds of crunching bones and tearing flesh. They didn’t last long. Once the screams subsided, the only noises that remained were the occasional splash of water and something akin to a branch snapping every so often. 

She could almost hear a distant yet familiar voice rattle off in her head. “Them gators’ll eat up anything you throw em. Meat, muscle, and bones! You name it!”

Suddenly she felt a change in the atmosphere and looked over to see the dark figure of a certain vampire standing on the other side of the dock. Dull thuds from his footsteps echoed around them as he slowly made his way over to stand by her side. For a moment they watched in silence as the alligators had a go at the victims in the bayou.

“You’re not supposed to be here.” She murmured and looked over. He tilted his head down at the blood-filled waters with a small snarl and then set his eyes on her; they were filling with inky black tendrils and glowing the darkest red. In an instant, he was gripping her tightly, his talons digging into the back of her neck, and bending her head to a harsh angle that gave him full access to her jugular. 

Dracula flashed her a deadly smile, “On the contrary, my dear, I can do anything I want.”

His descent was swift; she felt the sharp fangs sink into her throat and let her eyes roll back. Sagging into his hold, she felt the darkness open its arms to drink her in. 

Roxana woke with a gasp and shot straight up in her bed. 

Looking around frantically, she struggled to pinpoint her surroundings and then Fifolet meowed from across the room, jarring her back to reality. She was home and in her room. Safe. 

Her next course of action was feeling up and down her neck to make sure the dream was truly just a figment of her imagination. It remained wound-free. She exhaled loudly and collapsed back against her sheets.

The light of the morning sun cut across her room like a lance. Dim shadows danced along the ceiling as her fan spun on and on. It creaked slightly as it bounced back and forth, barely hanging onto its hinges, but all Roxana could hear was the thumping of her own heart. 

Just a dream. She sighed and rubbed her eyes. The sounds of the world awake and hustling outside her window gave her just enough motivation to swing her legs over the edge of the bed. The persistence and volume of the cat’s cries grew in earnest as it followed Roxana to the kitchen, positively demanding to be fed and let back outside. When she opened the door, it happily darted underneath the neighbor's house and wouldn’t be seen again until the evening.

There was a slight chill, but the skies were clear and the sun would soon warm up the city enough to make it a pleasant day. She walked back to her room to grab her phone and check the time, it was a still bit early but she didn’t mind. It was then noticed a text notification. The number was unknown but the text below read, in all caps; UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN accompanied by a vampire emoji. 

Roxana blinked and put the phone back down. Apparently not all the events of the previous night were a dream. 

With another long sigh, she went to the kitchen and started her morning routine. Coffee first, then shower, and then off to run errands. 

As she closed and locked up her front door, Roxana took a deep breath of fresh air and smiled. All thoughts of the fanged menace were pushed far from her mind and would be addressed another day. She threw on her sunglasses and strode off towards the streetcar. 

——

Dracula loved sunrises. After missing thousands of them, he tried to make a daily effort to watch. He enjoyed spending time memorizing the way the sun would paint the sky with fire before melting down into a sea of pastel purples, pinks, and oranges until the bold blues wiped the other colors and clouds from view. It was especially invigorating after a nice meal. 

He dropped the still-warm body to the ground and smacked his lips, bringing his hand up to wipe a smidge of blood from the corner of his mouth. A finely aged thirty-something man who was five years sober and treated his body like a temple. Slightly tangy, but not as bad as Dracula had expected. Almost like a healthy smoothie.

As they say, breakfast is the most important meal of the day.

The blood pooled a little around the body, sinking into the wooden floorboards, and the apartment began to creak and moan. Dracula rolled his eyes, “Yes, another one, get over it. You lot should have enough souls to get a real party going in here, so cheer up, hm?” 

A window shudder snapped close to his left and a couple of doors slammed rather loudly down the hall. He could hear chains faintly rattling in the far bedroom but paid no mind.

“As always, you’ll find no pity from me.” He addressed the room and the house gave one last protest in the form of a teacup flying by his head, shattering against the wall. Dracula raised a brow but remained unmoved. “Bloody haunted houses.”

He pulled out his cell phone and dialed his servant’s number while walking to the other side of the apartment. Renfield answered on the first ring, “Good morning, my lord.”

“I need you to dispose of a body.”

“Oh, al-already?”

Dracula glanced back at the face-down corpse sprawled out by the couch. 

“Why, have something more important to do?��� He turned back to the window that peered out over Jackson Square. Watching all the artists begin to set up their carts and tables and tricks and instruments and anything they could to make some sort of salvageable living. “I will say, this one was a tad bit messy. He was a fighter.”

“I think he taught jiu-jitsu by the lakefront, sir.”

“Ah, that’s it. Was just on the tip of my tongue.” Dracula liked the rush of tapping the veins of a martial artist. It tasted of perseverance, power, and control; maybe a slight hint of unadulterated anger towards someone...Dracula licked his lips in thought, oh there it is, the man was mad about his ex. Well that’s disappointingly anti-climactic, he mused.

The count’s attention was drawn to a familiar figure now weaving through the maze of workshops below. Roxana Van Helsing. He watched as she made her rounds through the throngs of artists and palm readers and tarot card fortune-tellers; all the while smiling so brightly and greeting various people as she made her way towards the river. It seemed that she knew nearly every regular who set up shop in the square. She hugged some of the tarot card and palm readers, waved at the painters as they hung their work on the wrought iron fence, and she even blew a kiss to a man painted black and gold and stood like a statue, but didn’t miss a beat as he caught the flying smooch and sent her a wink in return.

“How interesting...” He murmured, not able to take his eyes off of the woman floating around cheerfully below. After all the pleasantries, she crossed the street and set off towards the French Market. 

“My lord?”

He momentarily forgot he was still on the phone. “Nothing. Get over here and take care of this. The flies are starting to gather.”

“But the council - “

“Toss the body in the river or burn it, I don’t care.” Dracula snapped; the council, for lack of a better term, and their pesky rules were starting to grate on his nerves. “Just make sure to stake the poor bastard. The last thing I need right now is Keres pestering me about some monster waking up in the Bahamas or wherever.”

With a not-so-discreet sigh, Renfield acquiesced, “Of course, sir.”

“Be quick about it.” Dracula clicked the end call button and shoved his phone in his pant pocket. Turning on his heel, the count swept out of the apartment and headed the same direction he saw her walking. 

It didn’t take long for Dracula to find Roxana purchasing a coffee from one of the stands in the market. He slid into the shadows easily and watched from a distance while she meandered around, chatting with people here and there, looking over all the paintings, sculptures, jewelry, and clothing that were handmade by locals. Her smile was a beam of light that never seemed to fade. It was always there, he noticed curiously, from a large grin to a little smirk, her lips were quirked at all times. Was it genuine? He couldn’t fathom the notion of someone being that happy. Especially mortals. They always complained about something. 

Roxana wound herself around the last few stands, exited to the street, and made her way down towards Esplanade. Still maintaining discretion, he followed her along the broken sidewalks all the way into the Marigny, an adorably idiosyncratic suburb just to the east of the quarter. 

There was a small church nestled in between some houses with large white picnic tables and canopy pop-ups set up out front. Each table was covered with large catering trays and enormous cooking pots, about six or seven people stood behind it putting on gloves and aprons, and there was a line that went on around the block. Leaning back against a tree, Dracula tilted his head as he observed her embrace what looked to be the woman in charge and then put on the proffered apron and gloves. Roxana took over one of the stations and started to dish out plates of red beans and rice. 

One by one, she asked them how their day was and would give them a bowl, wishing them well. Everyone was friendly to each other; those in need were visibly grateful and those supplying were simply content to help in any way they could. 

A strange sight for the old vampire, it had been a good long while since he had seen such compassion. 

Dracula wasn’t sure how long he watched Roxana, but once the crowd started to dwindle down to the last few homeless folk in search of a warm meal, the sun had already begun its descent into the afternoon. 

The volunteers packed up the tables and dishes and trash into a few truck beds before giving out another round of hugs and bidding one another farewell. Roxana waited for the last truck to leave until she put on her light jacket and turned to make her own departure. He figured that was about as good a moment as any to make an appearance and was instantly by her side. 

“Fancy seeing you here - “ Dracula began but before he could finish she let out a shriek and jumped nearly a foot in the air. Instinctively, he held out a hand to make sure she didn’t tumble over, but to his surprise, Roxana turned and delivered a solid punch to his chest. Not that it hurt by any means, but the shock of the assault made him take a step back and slacken his jaw in offense. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, you can’t do that!” She gripped her chest, frantically trying to control her now racing heart. “Where the hell did you even come from?”

She glared up at him and the ferocity of it made him laugh so she sent another punch to his arm, which made him laugh even harder. He took another step back, dodging more of her blows, and raised his hands in defense. “It was totally worth it, you should’ve seen your face.”

Roxana groaned and ceased fire, “Have you been following me all day?”

The faux-innocence that Dracula's face displayed spoke volumes. 

She continued down the sidewalk back towards the quarter, but after a few steps she realized he hadn’t moved. So she turned back with a hand on her hip, “Well? Don’t be shy now, if you’re going to be my shadow then might as well get over here.”

His long legs were quick to shorten the distance between them and matched her pace as they began to walk side by side. 

They were quiet for a few blocks, the sounds of cars cruising by, birds chirping around, and dogs barking off in the distance easily filled the void. Dracula noticed she kept stealing glances his way, subtly - he’d give her that - but nonetheless it made him smirk. “I can see there is something you’re just dying to say.”

Roxana hopped over a large crack in the sidewalk before looking back up at him, “How are you here? I mean, in the sunlight, isn’t that supposed to...you know?”

She drew the side of a thumb across her throat mimicking certain death and he grinned. 

“Yes, well, it turns out that was just a funny little myth too.” Dracula shrugged casually. She noticed his dark sunglasses, loosely coiffed hair, and easy little smile and decided that he looked entirely too content in the daytime. It was a strange sight to behold a vampire sauntering around under the bright sun. The horror!

“Wait a second.” Roxana stopped in her tracks causing him to slow as well and pivot back in question. Her brow furrowed and he could practically see the wheels spinning in her head. “You mean this is a recent discovery?”

Dracula narrowed his gaze suspiciously, not knowing where she was going with this, “In comparison to how long I was unaware? Yes.”

“Did you ever check?”

“Check what?”

“You know, to see if it would actually burn you.” A large cicada buzzed and crackled as it flew by. “Like maybe sticking a pinkie finger out in the light? Test the waters?”

The nerve in his jaw ticked as Dracula clenched his teeth and stared at her for a moment, unreadable behind the Ray Bans he wore. 

“No, huh?” Rocana burst out laughing, “So you spent, what, four hundred years without any sort of proof that you would become a batty barbecue?”

“You’re enjoying this.” His arms were crossed over his chest now and he boasted a very unimpressed glare. 

“You just shaved off ten years of my life with that stunt back there, payback is justified.”

“I could take off quite a few more years than that, my dear.” He said while stepping closer, but his bark lacked its normal bite. 

She patted his arm, “Oh lighten up, cher, I’m just messing around.”

Despite the irritation that she brought out of him, Dracula found that he didn’t mind their banter, it was refreshing to be around someone who challenged him again. He still didn’t care for what she pointed out; he felt ridiculous enough about the whole ordeal and needn’t a reminder of his foolish mistakes. 

“Anyways,” They continued walking, “While I have you, I’d like to know more about this whole soirée coming up, what exactly is that all about?”

“Well, I’m afraid I don’t know too terribly much, this is sort of my initiation into the council.” He said with slight disgust towards the idea. As if the mere thought of him having to go through a trial just to be part of something was beyond absurd. “Before you ask - because I know you will - the council is the organization that deals with maintaining the city’s supernatural and mortal order.”

“There must be a lot of supernatural folk for a council to have been formed.”

“Oh you have no idea!” He laughed as her eyebrows shot up. “A lot more than even I was aware of before moving here, that’s for sure.”

“All vampires?’

“No, not all, but quite a few of us.”

“Are there werewolves?”

“Why, do you prefer dogs? I thought you were one of those crazy cat ladies.” He smirked as she pushed his arm. “No, no wolves down here, it’s far too hot for those beasts. I have heard of a swamp creature, but have not seen one yet myself. Sounds exciting though.”

“Oh, really?” Roxana's mouth turned into a frown as she looked down in concern, almost muttering to herself. “I should probably warn Memaw. Oh who am I kidding, she has her voodoo for protection, she won’t listen to me.”

“I’m sorry - your what?” 

They came to a stop at a traffic light and waited to cross the street. Roxana forgot he was there for a moment and her head shot up, giggling a little at his confusion, “‘Memaw’? Means ‘grandmother’. It doesn’t matter. Hey, I’m starving, want to grab some food with me? There’s a great spot just around the corner.”

At the mention of eating, Dracula looked down at her neck and licked his lips, damn did it look appetizing. It was a good thing he was wearing sunglasses and she couldn’t see the hunger that darkened his eyes. “Roxana, my dear, I would be delighted.”

Taglist:

@festering-queen​ @vissidarte213​ @moony691​ @torntaltos​

[alexsanchezbressler-blog]

Reports from South Texas, 1995-1999 (fiction)

1. Facing east toward her door of peeled white paint, Gladys genuflects the air an arm’s length in front of her with an eight-inch kitchen knife. She is cutting clouds.

It’ll be fat rain today, she mouths.

She wears a simple night gown, purple silk with a pink hibiscus print. The slippers on her feet used to be white. Her hair used to be black. Her face is long from wearing heavy skin, and the ridge of her brow casts a soft shadow over sunken eyes and gated eyelids. When she hears the gentle topple of a plastic cup coming from the back of her home, her right ear flicks back half a centimeter, and she knows in her bones that someone has broken into her house. She waits on the living room couch in silence, a broom to her left, the eight-inch knife to her right. Her body sits mute, save for the lonely scuffle of slippers on wood.   “I know that you’re back there. Come out now.” The hollow cluck of the fallen cup remains the only sound from the back of the house. Gladys pictures it now: a stranger, forty, one scar on the peak of his right eyebrow. No gun, only rings. He wears work boots and there’s paint on the jeans his father used to own. He will push her around if he must. But this is not the figure that walks into Gladys’ living room, silent and barefoot on the linoleum floor. This is Eric, only a boy. He has chocolate on his face and will now be led back home to his mother. ¡Víborito! — 2. Ray Gomez would like a loan on his homework. He’ll study later, with interest. — 3. Cardenas’ Grocer on the corner of Culebra and Bandera. That’s where Maria has been sent to pick up novelty shirts for her father’s side of the family. “Maria, why don’t you get them something to remember this place by, huh? Something original”—Maria’s mother, Patty, says that last word in Spanish, filling it with air rather than the hard clunk of a “g.” It is the first time Maria has heard her mother speak Spanish in months. “Get them the shirt with the lime-green print and the black background. I used to wear those suckers for days.” In the corner of the house, Maria’s niece Carmen is picking up small porcelain rabbits and placing them on the floor. Everyone lets Carmen do her own thing—she has a bit of a speech impediment, and she often has trouble communicating what she needs to say. It’s easier, what with both sides of the family converging in the two-room family home, to leave Carmen be with her bunnies. “Yea. They were loco for me at Cardenas’,” and Maria bites her lip one sinew too hard trying not to pity her mother. The walk to Cardenas’ is hot, so Maria makes a game of trying to read billboards through the heat waves rising from the pavement. She crouches on her knees to get the right angle. Bill Miller Barbeque. Maybe she’ll buy a wet brownie and some sweaty tea. Mario’s Bakery. Or perhaps she’ll snag an empanada. She knows the town well enough, but it’s been a while since she’d walked around the West Side. The whole family is in town for her grandmother’s funeral—including her father’s very Jewish relatives. They are fine people. They will go to the Riverwalk and sit with the other tourists, each holding a menu larger than a map of the United States. They’ll see the Alamo. They’ll learn that the Alamo didn’t always have the signature façade you see on stamps and brochures, that it was only added when someone figured out how to make money from all the death that happened there. They’ll see the Tower of the Americas after the wake for Maria’s grandmother. All the while Maria will explain to them why, yes, she is aware that the job market for English majors is rough in this economy, that, yes, she has heard about Teach for America. Maria buys three T-shirts of thin cotton. She thinks about how she has grown up half-Jewish, herself. She knows the prayers: Barukh ata Adonai…and so on. Every holiday season was spent with a multi-colored Christmas tree in the corner and a menorah by the window. Maria enjoys spending time with the Jewish side of her family, in their element of the D.C. suburbs. But as she makes her way back from Cardenas’, Maria peers at a Fallas Paredes discount clothing store and St. Jude’s Cathedral. This is not Bethesda.

When Maria arrives back at the house, the whole family is lined up ready to take a photo. “Ay Maria! We didn’t forget you. We were just setting up, that’s all.” The family glistens like fish in a barrel.   Maria walks over to stand by her sister. She leans over and whispers through a couple inches of black curl: well at least Mom’s having a good time. Maria’s sister nudges her with her hip, all while holding Carmen who has been saying jeez jeez jeez on repeat for the past five minutes. “It’s cheese, honey. Chuh. Chuh.” “So, Patty, tell me. What was it like growing up here?” This from Daphne, who wears a new hat with an embroidered logo of the Texas state flag and a slogan that reads, Everything’s Bigger in Texas. “It was fine. I used to have these little dolls, like these knock-off American Girls. I’d go out back and play nurse with them, and I’d get these huge roofing nails, maybe three inches long. They were left over from when my Dad first built this place. Anyway, I’d have these dolls, and I’d say, ‘Allllllll better,’ and I’d stick ‘em in the arm with one of those nails, just like a Tetanus shot. Ha! We made our own fun.” “That must have been so hard, Patty.” “What?”

Maria makes time to see the backyard. When she was alive, Maria’s grandmother was a meticulous gardener, and she’d curated a gallery of bluebonnets and sunflowers, tomatoes and pears. These days it is wilderness. Maria has to keep her feet moving, rather than risk having fire ants coat her calf. The blue metal swing-set that Maria and her mother both grew up on is now rusted and hidden beneath a sheath of vines and leaf litter. A mop lays strewn in the middle of the cacophony, and when Maria picks it up, it remains stiff in the same flayed position it had on the ground, frozen in time and stale microfiber.   From the corner of the yard a rooster emerges, reminiscent of a velociraptor amidst all the weeds. Maria remembers stories about her grandmother and the neighbors. Like that one time when her grandmother saved a kid from the fighting cocks next door. They say he was bleeding and on the ground, a massive beak tearing at his arms, blood and feathers springing forth like dust from that dirty kid in the Charlie Brown series. They say Maria’s grandmother leapt over the fence and ripped the boy from the cage, that she stared down the cock, and with an air of finality she glared at the animal: No. Me. Toques. Maybe this rooster is the progeny of those original fighters. Maybe this one is related to the brute that almost took out that kid. Maybe not. Maria stares at the animal for a moment, and with a swift yank of the arm, she whips herself into a straight posture, and salutes. “No me toques, little chicken!”

Back inside the house, Maria could have sliced the air with a kitchen knife. All her tíos have congregated in the back room, flipping through old family photos. Patty and Carmen, who still holds a porcelain bunny, remain with three or four members of family-cum-tourists, as Maria’s father has gone out to buy ice. “Jeewwws. Jeewwwss.” Maria bites her tongue, stifling a laugh. Patty stops explaining what a telenovela is midsentence. She whips around to see Carmen standing with a small pout on her lower lip, as she repeats her soft incantation: “Jewwwsss. Jeewws!” “Carmen! Stop that right now. Right. Now.” Conversation resumes. Maria sits down by the window unit and listens in. “So when did you first learn English?” Daphne digs her toes into the foam of her flip flops as she waits for a response. Patty takes a sip of Snapple iced tea. “Well I grew up with it.” “Yes, but how is what I’m asking.” “Jeewwwss. Jeeeewwwwws!” “Uh. I don’t know, I just kind of talked to people?” “They didn’t have ESL at your school?” “I didn’t need ESL.” “Mama, Jews. Please, Jews.” “That must have been so hard, Patty.” “What was so hard! I spoke English!” “JEWS!” Everyone looks at Carmen then, as she stomps on the ground in her bare feet. Patty is on the verge of giving her some Benadryl to fall asleep quick. Daphne cocks an eyebrow, wondering what kind of education this kid is getting. Maria sits near the cool air, watching as a tear falls down Carmen’s face. And Maria says, “Honey, do you want your chanclas?” Carmen melts in relief. And Patty translates: “Oh. SHOES!”

— 4. Gary lives on Calle Valencia. It is a short strip lined with squat houses and metal fences that, when shaken, sound like tin jingle bells. On this street people drive at a slow crawl, rolling the pace at which a cigarette eats itself. The stray dogs demand such attentiveness. And yet, there are those who insist on driving in haste down Valencia, causing mothers to grip and pull their children toward their hip. Once, Gary was out by the chain-link, looking to grab the mail. He wore a green bathrobe with purple socks on the street textured like a concrete Pollock. He left small bits of cotton fray in his wake: breadcrumbs on a familiar route. As Gary grabbed the mail, a tan Chevy and a faded red pickup the shade of a rooster’s beak drove past—hood to hood—as one driver zoomed backwards and the other nudged him along. From above, you’d see something vaguely homoerotic about the whole scene: two front license plates, kissing, unabashed and speeding forty down Valencia, all while the cotton puff of Gary’s hair swiveled and judged as he gripped the daily mail. Today, a dog leaps onto a fence, shattering the chain-link with a moan.   — 5. They say la matanza, the slaughterhouse, steals the sense of smell. But it didn’t take one cent more than that from Ramón.

Ramón lies on a twin bed, ninety-six and sporting a full head of gray hair. His room is an anachronism: a vintage spring bed framed by a chrome IV drip, chipped paint lit up by the small green and red blips from his family’s phone chargers. Even his breathing, which is thickened by a swollen tongue, sounds ancient against the sharp tin beep, beep, beep of his heart monitor. “A Sunkist, please. Will someone please get me a Sunkist.” Ramón is old enough now that his words begin to lose their definition when he speaks—will hun-wun get me uh zun-kids—blending together like the last ninety-five years of his life. His grandson, Danny, flits into the room like a squirrel, holding a small orange soda in a glass bottle. Danny places the Sunkist on Ramón’s dresser next to a full cup of cold coffee without making eye contact. At the last moment, Danny turns, catching the yellowed porcelain of Ramón’s sclera, and he runs out the room with only a few slips from his slick crew socks. Ramón settles into his bed, keen to the clips of sound that flood his last room.

“You should spend more time with your grandfather, Danny.” “Ok, Mom. Okay—he scares me, though.” “He’s just old, he won’t bite. I promise. Listen. When he had his stint in the Navy, he was a chef. When he came back home, he kept cooking for the whole family, he was so used to it by then. We’d all be sitting in the living room and he’d walk in—you know how lanky he is, he’s a tall guy—with a tray of twenty biscuits. And he’d also make this toast with meat and gravy on it. Called it SOS. You know what SOS stands for?” “Save Our Ship, right?” “Nope. Shit On a Shingle. Or so he tells us.”

Ramón never quite falls asleep. He is thinking. He thinks about the last time he saw his friends, and how they remain so perfect in his memory (Billy’s curl of hair falling on his left eyebrow, Miguel’s beer belly growing rounder by the year). He remembers the white plaster of their work uniforms, the puff of double-sweaters layered underneath. The clear plastic masks that covered their faces from the splay of cattle blood. The cattle blood. The relentless pff, pff, pff of air bullets, stunning the animals into unconscious spastic kicks. The large drains that pocked the floor of la matanza. He remembers the knuckle punches they gave each other at the end of the day, small tokens of intimacy sterilized by the thick of industrial rubber gloves.

“I know that you are hiding there.” Danny freezes up on the other side of the wall of Ramón’s bedroom—how did he know I was hiding here? Ramón licks his cracked lips, waiting to see if his grandson will come in the room. He does not. I hid once, thinks Ramón. Yes, I hid from her. Ramón glances at the bed across the room, empty now for three years. He shuts his eyes, searching for the truth of their first encounter… …Break time, twilight, la matanza. They are standing under the orange halogen that isolates the break porch from the dark night. Miguel slips a flask from the pocket of his innermost sweater and shakes it in front of Ramón’s face with a cheeky grin and wide eyes. Ten minutes chatting pass. From the edge of the clearing, beneath a flurry of pecan trees, Ramón is the first to spot her. A woman. Ramón taps Miguel’s arm with the back of his hand, gesturing toward her with the flask. The woman begins to walk toward the porch, hips swaying, eyes locked in as if they were tied with taut fishing line to the boys on break. When Ramón squints, he swears that she is looking straight at him, but with his eyes unadjusted to the night he cannot tell for sure. The woman’s legs begin to shuffle, closer, closer to one another. She does not fall to her knees: she melts. Her arms collapse to her side—what in hell, mutters Miguel, who begins to trip back toward la matanza—and the woman’s skin takes on a scaly gleam. Her body attenuates, and she slithers, the diamond of her head and the ruby of her eyes still locked on Ramón; she is staring at Ramón. Una víbora, por Díos. Miguel is gone. Ramón is stock-still, frozen in the white plastic muffle of his sterile uniform. That is, until the woman sticks out a forked tongue, long and body-pink, sharp. She becomes an eight-foot green viper. Ramón runs and hides inside the chrome warehouse of la matanza.

But this is only his memory now. In walks Danny with a tray of street tacos bordered by three quartered limes. Ramón remembers a time when he could smell food in the house. He remembers when all he could smell was the scent of cattle hide. He remembers when he could only feel the pull of air on the walls of his nose. But the tacos taste fine enough.

“Danny, do you know how your grandpa and grandma met?” “No, Mom, I don’t.” “Well, my Mom loved to tell this story, so here it is. Apparently, she was watering flowers out by her front yard, over at her old home near the slaughterhouse. You remember I showed it to you? She’s minding her own business and up comes your grandfather. He stands by her flowers, staring real close at this butterfly—a monarch, I think. “Naturally, Mom asks, ‘Can I help you?’ “And your grandfather, so smooth, keeps looking at the butterfly. He says, ‘I bet these butterflies traveled thousands of miles, just to smell your flowers.’ And Mom tells him, actually, they’re drinking the nectar. That they’re hungry, so they have these long tongues that unfurl to drink up the flower. And Dad looks at her right in the eye, and they fall in love right there.” “Seems a little weird to me.” “Yea, well, it was the ‘50s.”

The clicks and beeps of Ramón’s machines become frantic. Ramón is silent, but his eyes remain wide as he stares at the spin of his faded white fan. Danny and his mother are by his side. Tears, tears, prayers, and candles. The callouses of Ramón’s hands are rough on Danny’s palm. The whirs of machine begin to fade. His last breath in: a hard rush of air through the nose. His last breath out: a small mutter, a prayer, and a greeting. Mi víbora, mi víbora, mi amor. —