#besides women covered in blood make my knees weak

[morebird]

Now it's her turn to kill

[sugolara]

𝙂𝙧𝙖𝙨𝙨

ft. yandere! Izuku Midoriya x fem! reader

previous || series m.list || next

Submission

He sniffled, his tiny hands wiping his tears as he could only cry and cry, looking at the pavement that collected his tears. His knees were red, a few blood dripped down to the pavement, combining with the fading tears. 

It was windy, the trees swayed and the clouds covered the bright sun. The park was mostly empty except for a couple of kids and runaway dogs. A couple had begun to pack their picnic, the wind blowing the women's sundress. 

Behind the park, were fields of trees and unkempt grass; a forest. No one, besides teenagers, would take a step in there. The forest could be beautiful when spring came, but it wasn't meant for kids who could easily get lost in there. That's why there are fences that stop at the edge of the park and the beginning of the forest. It was far too creepy to enter.

"Why do you let them do that?" Izuku jumped, spinning around so quickly that he fell on his back. He sniffled, his tears sliding down his cheeks, hitting his shirt. "So? You going to tell me?"

His wide fearful eyes locked into the eyes of e/c ones. He didn't know this girl, she offered no kind smile and her eyes boredly stared at him. He gulped as the girl then crouched down in front him, hissing a little when she touched his injured knee. 

He stayed quiet, fearing that if he were to utter a peep then the girl in front of him would possibly hurt him. The girl seemed the same age as him, maybe 5 or 6, though she seemed to be a bit taller.

"Can you talk or not?" She said, her eyes then glared at him.

Before he could utter a word, she had slapped his bloody knee, causing him to jolt as he held onto his leg, "Ow!"

That had caused a smile to grow on her lips. She watched as he continued to pour out some tears, her arms resting on her knees. She let out a small laugh as she then grabbed a bandage from her pocket, "Don't be scared, scaredy cat."

He let out a whimper when she roughly grabbed his leg, "..S-stop it."

She only smiled, placing the band aid on, "I'm being nice here. The least you could do is be my friend."

He sniffled, his body trembling as the wind blew by, "..No, no yo-you're not."

She let out a huff, her finger tracing over the band aid then to the dried blood, "What's your name?"

Izuku wanted nothing to do with her. He didn't know this girl and did not want to, but when she once again looked at him, her nails digging in his knee, he responded, "I-Izuku."

She then finally offered a kind smile, her hands falling to her side, "I'm F/n."

The wind once again rushed by making the smaller boy shiver as he was in a shirt and shorts. The girl in front noticed as she took off her sweater and threw it in her face, "Wouldn't want you to get sick."

The boy grabbed the sweater, bewildered as he stared at it. He was once again startled as the girl grabbed his arm, picking him up to his feet and started to place her sweater on him. He couldn't run even if he wanted as the girl basically had a death grip on him, so he shyly stared at her, unsure of what to do.

When she zipped the sweater she raised her hands and let out a smile when he flinched. She then placed her hands underneath his freckles cheeks, wiping his tears with her thumb, "Can't have you crying. I will take care of you now, okay?"

Just what was with this girl? 

"Wh-why...?" He had to ask as the girl brought him to the swings. He kind of felt like he was a hostage. He wanted to leave, run away from this weird girl. 

With her in front of him, she grabbed the chains, lightly swinging him with a close eyed  smile, "Because you're weak."

He fiddled with her sweater as he could feel the tears once again pile up, "I-I'm not weak."

"Of course you are!" She laughed like he had said something funny. Though when she opened her eyes to see tears, she let out a frown, "Stop with the tears already."

He tried pushing her hands away, but she quickly gripped his hands, glaring down at him. For a small person she had a tight grip, one that Izuku thought would surely break his hand, "That hurts!"

She gripped it a little harder, "Then stop and let me take care of you. Jeez, Izuku. Can't you see we're friends and as a friend I want to help. So stop..making..a fuss."

He fought back though, standing up and tried shoving her though he quickly fell when she shoved him and got on him, her hands falling back to his wrist. She watched as he struggled, feeling bad for him but also being entertained as he cried again. 

"You're hurting me! Sto-stop it!" He sobbed, his teary eyes glancing up at the grinning girl on top of him. "Izuku."

"Izuku."

"I will take care of you."

"And in return, I ask for the same."

She jolted her, her hands grabbing her face as she stared at the ceiling with wide eyes and letting out a pant. Her body was shivering as she laid in bed. She sniffled, a tear dripping down to her pillow. She then rubbed her face, moving her hair to fall to the side.

Just what the hell was that?

She tried to remember what she dreamt but she could only remember small snippets. She could see a park, a very ugly park with trash overflowing and littering everywhere. She could see a playground and a few boys running to a forest that looked creepy to her. 

Then she could see a boy on her knees, the faint sound of crying coming to her ears. She remembered only looking at the blurred boy for what seemed like hours until she finally went up to him, only to hear the sobs getting louder.

She could still hear a faint voice that sounded like it was right next to her, but when she turned to look, she saw no one. She then sat up, looking around where she could see everyone still asleep. 

She grabbed her phone, checking the time. Of course everyone was still asleep, it was 6:12. They would soon get up in a few minutes to get ready for school. Since there was a bit of time, she figured she would go back to sleep, but she was still shaken by what she dreamt, so she stayed awake, looking at her ceiling. 

She then began to get bored, so she stood up, careful to not step on a covered Shoto and enter her bathroom. She closed the door and turned the sink on, splashing her face with cold water as she realized she had been sweating. 

She let out a sigh as she stared at herself in the mirror. She must have not slept well as she could see her eyes were a bit red and a dark circle forming underneath her eyes. 

She hadn't realized she had been lost in thought when the door was knocked on. She glanced at the door for a while until she opened it. She saw Izuku smiling at her, "Hey. You need to use the bathroom?"

He nodded, "Oh, yeah, sure. Also, everyones waking up."

"Already?" She asked, looking at the mirror. 

"Oh, no." Izuku worryingly looked at her as her brows were narrowed, "Are you okay?"

"...Yeah." She said, then letting out a chuckle, rubbing her eyes, "Sorry, I guess I didn't get a good sleep."

He blushed as he remembered what happened last night, "Really? What a bummer."

"Yeah." She then shook her head, exiting the room, "Sorry, I forgot you wanted to use the bathroom. If you like, we could go to school together, unless you need to go home and change or something."

He happily shook his head, pointing to his bag, "I brought my uniform!"

She smiled at him, "Okay, I'll be waiting for you."

She entered her room to where she could see Ochaco sitting on her bed, letting out a yawn and trying to keep  her eyes open, "You want coffee?"

Ochaco  let out a tired smile, "No, thank you. I need to wake myself up without anything."

"Coffee is bad for you, it could lead to an addiction if consumed a lot." Tenya said as he grabbed his bag, "Anyways, about the banner, I'll be taking it. I hope you don't mind."

Shoto shrugged as he sat on the chair, his hand on the desk with his head resting on top of it, "Maybe we shouldn't have slept late. I don't think I can keep  myself up for the entire day."

"Agreed." Ochaco said, closing her mouth as she let out another yawn.

F/n rolled her eyes, placing a hand on his back, "C'mon, wake up. You're all acting like we slept at midnight."

"Ten is a late time to be sleeping. We should have had this finished days ago, though I suppose it can't be helped." Tenya added as he carefully rolled the banner.

"Agreed." The brown-haired said as she stood up, stretching. Her back popped and she let out a satisfied sigh, "That should wake me up!"

When she felt the boy underneath her go back to sleep, F/n slapped his back causing the male to jump and glare at her. She gave him a cheesy smile as she went to grab her bag, "Wake up or we'll be late. Izuku should be out in a few, so we could all walk together."

Izuku had watched the girl leave and slowly closed the door, where he was then left alone. He swallowed his saliva as he thought back to when he laid with the girl. He almost fell asleep as he had her in a grip, but when she uttered his name that caused him to wake up.

His heart paced when he thought he was caught, but when he looked at her only to see her continuing to sleep, he wondered just what was she dreaming about that had her say his name. 

Of course he thought of something else, as she said it once more. His body grew hot and he had to bite down on his finger as he looked at the girl's face, reading her expression. But when he saw a tear slide out, and that sentence that had been carved into his mind, he let go of his finger, his eyes blinking a few times and his heart stopping as he continued to watch her. 

Of all the memories, she had to dream of that one? Izuku didn't like it. He didn't like it as she continued to say it a handful times, almost as it was taunting him. He had gulped as he felt his hands shaking. He could still remember his knee and wrist hurting, and the tight grip she had on him.

He also let out a few tears as he touched her face, whispering for her to wake up, to no longer continue to see that god awful memory. She doesn't deserve to see it. It would only cause him pain and he didn't want that.

He's tried too hard to forget it, but with the countless times he's been placed back on earth, it always stayed with him. 

Why couldn't she get a fond memory of when they both loved each other? One where she wasn't cruel to him, one where he loved her deeply. They have so many, so why was the universe doing this to them? 

He hit his head as he leaned on the door, his nails digging into his scalp until.

She doesn't deserve to see the memory of when they first met. 

[lou-struck]

Where the Fire Should Have Been

- Kyojuro Rengoku x F Reader

What’s kindling to do if there is no flame to feed?

This is my piece for @kingkatsuki and @bakuroo-writings Frozen Hearts Collab. which you can find HERE

Thank you for letting me join! I have never written something like this before, I hope it's not too obvious.

Anyways, enjoy the unhappy ending...

TW: DARK CONTENT AHEAD...Major KNY Spoilers, Character Death, Neglect, Extreme Grief, Insanity, Starvation, Blood, Angst, Obsession. Hypothermia. and other related topics.

WC: 1,100+

"I have to go away again, Fireball," he said, lightly kissing your forehead as you latch onto him like a moth to a flame.

"Do you really have to leave me again, Kyojuro? It's cold when you're not here with me," you mumbled sleepily, trying to pull the Hashira back into the warm bed he reluctantly has to leave behind.

His golden eyes soften at your words as he sends you one of his big smiles. "People need my help, but once I return, I will be all yours," he says, grabbing your small hand with his large one and pressing it to his lips for a chaste kiss.

"All mine?" you ask, unable to hide the smile he had infected you with.

"All yours, my love, "he says warmly. "Besides, you don't need me to keep you warm in the summer." he laughs as he bids you farewell promising to return soon.

Only he didn't…

~

Two women walk arm in arm through the snow, passing a barren Sakura tree, where a lone figure sits hunched over on a stone bench. Their skin soaked to the bone, and their thin, matted hair freckled with snowflakes.

"Did you see that woman back there?" one of the women asks wide-eyed. Sneaking a glance back in your direction.

"Yes, It's as if the dead are walking among us." Her companion says, sneering back in disgust before they hurry on their way.

You remain in your spot; dull eyes fixated on everything and nothing as the snowflakes continue to cover you. You're shaking, but that's nothing new. You can't feel anything; you haven't for months, not since Kyojuro died, leaving you in a world without his light.

He always said that you were the fuel to his fire, but what use is fuel if there is no spark to feed?

If you were able to fuel him, then why is he gone?

You're unsure of how long you have been on the bench, but soon the sky begins to darken you stand abruptly. Kyojuro always warned you not to be alone in the dark without him, and so you begin the walk home, thankful that your lightheadedness makes it easier to think of nothing as you trudge through the snow.

Stumbling towards your home, you are stopped by an older gentleman holding a small lantern. Who takes note of your gaunt figure with concern.

His lips begin to move, but you can't process what he is saying because of the flame in his hand; it flickers and mocks you through the glass.

"Miss, are you alright?" he asks, his voice not reaching you before you screech hysterically. The man unsurprisingly jolts back, the lantern shattering as you drop to your knees, unaware of the glass shards that are digging into your frozen legs, and you hurry to smother what was left of the fire.

You stare up at the man in anger. "You don't deserve his fire. Give it back." you rasp out, vocal cords weak from your outburst. The man leaves quickly, most likely thinking you to be insane, he's probably right, but at this point, your only thoughts are of getting home before the moon comes out.

Eventually, you make it back to your home. It's dark and dusty, but you navigate the obstacles easily. You have memorized the layout of the home like it's the back of your hand. You dare not to change anything, not in the home you shared with Kyojuro.

After his death, there was no need to light a fire, no matter how small. There would be no flames in your home. After all, Kyojuro was the light of your life, your sun, your warmth. Now that he is gone, any imitation would be disrespectful.

It's all routine now, you pull off your wet clothes, pluck the glass shards from your knees, and draw a bath. Not bothering to heat the water before dumping it into the stone tub.

Plunging into the freezing water, you stare at your reflection in the cracked mirror. The silver moonlight providing just enough light for you to get a view of yourself.

Your ribs stick out prominently, and your face is hollow, making the blue in your lips stand out against the sickly color of your skin and the darkness underneath your eyes. "when was the last time you've eaten?" you wonder to yourself before deciding once again that it doesn't matter.

You use your shaky hands and brittle nails to clean today off of you, not realizing that you have once again scrubbed too hard, and your fragile skin splits like paper, causing little red beads of blood to appear on your skin, mixing with the bathwater before disappearing completely. Slipping out of the tub, you make sure to dry your skin completely before changing into one of his old nightshirts. Its familiar smell embraces you, providing the only source of comfort you have felt all day. Tears stream down your face as you move to the heart of your home, the fireplace, where the two of you spent many evenings curled up together on the soft carpet.

Grabbing your framed portrait of him. Thinking that somehow its proximity could fill the hollow pit where your heart used to be. You hold it close to your chest with a vice-like grip so that this, too, will not be taken away from you. Unaware of the blue tips of your hidden fingers.

Laying down on the floor, you stare blankly into the dusty hearth. The place where the fire should have been. Before closing your eyes, the cold numbs you from whatever pain or discomfort you should be feeling.

Everything seems to slow down, the falling snow outside, the swaying branches from the trees, your breathing. "It is pretty cold," you say softly, the words cracking your chapped lips. The feeling is replaced by something wonderful; for the first time since that summer morning, you begin to feel warmth. It embraces you, prickling your skin in the best way as you let out a giggle.

Your face breaks into a small smile as you bask in the winter's warmth before you feel nothing at all and think no more as darkness swallows you whole, taking you somewhere else entirely.

[asonofpeter]

Always

Pairing: Peter Parker x Platonic!Reader

Summary: The three times Peter saved you and the one time he couldn't.

Warnings: Major angst, fighting, dudes being creeps in the beginning.

Word Count: 1101

A/N: Hope you like it! This made me cry. Enjoy! 💕💕💕

You were never supposed to walk home alone, especially at night. But you lost track of time at your friend’s house. Your uncle was working late, so was May, and Peter was busy. You didn’t want to bug them. Besides, it was only a thirty-minute walk.

Who would’ve known though that there would be muggers out on the streets at nine o’clock at night? Well you, you would because you were only eleven at the time.

“Shouldn’t you be with your Mommy?” a scrubby man taunted you as he and his friends circled you. “It’s late, why don’t you lead us the way home?” he sent a sinister smile your way.

“I-I could manage my way, thank you,” you mustered up, trying to push past them.

“Listen, little girl, we’re trying to be nice,” he grabbed onto your shoulder, pushing you back. The wind was knocked out of you when you landed on the concrete in the alleyway, tears welling in your eyes as you watched them hover over you. You prepared yourself for their force of impact, but it never came.

Hearing the sudden wooshing of webs, you opened your eyes to see a blurry Spider-Man. Of course, you have heard stories about him all over the news. The web-slinging hero who looks out for the little guy in Queens. You never had the honor to meet him, but you were sure glad that he was here.

“Maybe don’t pick on eleven-year-old girls,” he threw a punch to them, causing them to all run away when they got the chance. “Not cool,” he huffed once he got the last guy.

Quickly rushing over to you, he knelt. Your body shrank away from him, too scared to face anything.

“Hey, it’s alright,” he cooed, trying to coax you to face him. “Y/N, it’s me,” he whispered, your ears perking at the mention of your name.

“What?” you turned around the familiar voice clicking.

Spider-Man whipped his mask off in an instant, revealing the face of no other than your best friend/tutor/neighbor; Peter Parker. Without another thought, you threw yourself into his hold, his arms wrapping securely around you.

“Shh, I got you, don’t worry,” he cooed as he held you, your small cries filling his ears. “I’ll always save you,” he promised.

~~~~~

In your twelve years of existence, you’d never imagined finding yourself lightyears away from your home on a completely different planet. But that was the least of your worries.

“We almost got it off,” Peter exclaimed as he and Tony fought to take the gauntlet off of Thanos.

With everyone forcing Thanos down, you were too optimistic before you felt yourself being thrown across the planet. Your eyes widened when you were about to make an impact with a bolder, the feeling of an arm wrapping around you.

“I got you,” Peter said once you both landed, his face appearing behind his mask.

“Always?”

“Always.”

Peter was your protector, he had your back. He was the brother you never had. And because he loved you so much, it hurt him at the thought when he could no longer protect you. Being Spider-Man really amplified that fear.

He just never thought that day would be so soon.

“Mr. Stark?” he called out, pain surging through his body as he felt what was about to come.

Your eyes widen when he fell to the ground, his legs slowly disappearing.

“Peter?” you fell to your knees beside him, holding onto his hand. You saw how he tried to fight it, but it was no use.

“I’m so sorry,” he turned his attention to you, eyes filled with tears before he was gone.

~~~~~

Seeing the entirety of the Avengers Compound in rubble set anxiety in you. You didn’t want to believe you had to fight this purple douchebag again, but yet here you were.

“Seize fire!” you heard Thanos shout out as Wanda was close to killing him. The expansion of the battle was now shot at. You ducked for cover but the bullets were so close, that was until you felt a shadow cast over you.

“Peter!?” you gasped, finding the young man looks the exact same as he was on Titan five years ago.

“I got you,” he hid you, his suit knocking off any bullets that came your way. You hid your face in his chest until you heard it stop.

Captain Marvel landed in front of the two of you, Peter handing her the gauntlet and you realized how he was really beaten up.

“Always?” you asked for the first time in half a decade, patting his shoulder before you began to run in the direction of the other women.

“Always,” he passed a weak smile, sitting down.

~~~~~

“Peter?” you cried out, his web being the only thing supporting you right now.

Peter looked over the edge, your body hanging hundreds of feet off the ground. Your suit was soaked after being dunked in a body of water from the Green Goblin. Your powers were dormant. It was no use if you were to fall.

“Just hang on, Y/N,” he cried out, managing to throw a punch, sending the Goblin unconscious but that also meant the web holding you snapped.

You took a gulp when the web ripped, your blood running cold. Your powers were going to fail you.

Everything slowed down as you gazed up at your best friend. His suit’s eyes were wide and frantic as he tried to reach for you.

He tried to grasp for your hand, the look in your eyes already knowing your fate. As he reached his hand out to shoot a web, your body slammed on the ground the moment it attached to your suit.

“Y/N?” he called out, hanging on a bar before he dropped down, taking his mask off. “Y/N?” he repeated, staring at your lifeless body. “No no no,” he picked you up, ripping the web off as he held you in his arms.

Blood ran out of your nose, your head limp, and your eyes closed.

“No no no no no,” he shook his head, tears blurring his vision. “It can’t, please, no no no,” he rested his ear against your neck, searching for a pulse. “Y/N,” he moved your hair out of your face.

His whole body shook, hoping Edith had some way to save you.

“I’m sorry,” he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Y/N,” he cradled your body, hoping for some sort of sign.

But you were gone and he broke his promise.

~~~~~

[pxnk-velvet]

Hello! Hope you're doing well! So. Ok. So I'm on my pms. I'm in pain and I'm horny af at the same time so fml 🤦‍♀️ . I need some Kakashi smut x fem!reader. I'm sucker for this cold-blooded bastard, who thinks he never finds love and then he is melting in her embrace 🥲

Luv ya 💗

ALL YOURS [NSFW!]

Kakashi Hatake x Fem!Reader

Summary: Y/n L/n. The women that everyone wanted, until Kakashi got his hands on her. To this day, he still couldn’t fathom the things she made him feel.

Warnings: nsfw!, overstimulation, squirting, intended for mature readers only

shawty! this? THIS??? 🖐🏼🥵🥵🥵 this is probably some of the hottest stuff i have ever written lmao 😭 for reallllll. as always feedback and reblogs are appreciated 😊

He was completely enamored with her. It was like he couldn’t get enough of her being. Everything about her was just so hypnotizing. From the way she spoke, plump lips morphing around each syllable, to the way she walked, frame held beautifully as her hips swayed with a natural rhythm. Her skin, delicate and smooth under the touch of his own calloused hands. Her eyes holding so much emotion and so many secrets, drawing in people with just one glance.

Typically Kakashi Hatake wasn’t a man to brag about the things he had or skills he owned. However, with her by his side, he couldn’t help but smirk under his mask knowing that so many other people had pinned after his beloved.

Y/n L/n.

A notorious name known to the hidden leaf and beyond. One of the best kunoichi to ever come from Konoha. Praised and loved by all. Often set as example for many of the young ninja in training. Sought out by both men and women for friendship, love, sex, and other things.

Yet after years and years, she never gave in to the countless offers of love and devotion. Only resorting to giving the lucky person a single night of ecstasy. Leaving them in the morning, only to return home with a stronger yearning for one man. For years she had eyes for him. Growing up and honing a sturdy friendship that lasted decades. Along with their growing bond, grew their feelings for one another.

Quick glances turned into lingering stares. Stories being told whenever they locked eyes, not a single word spoken. Simple touches seemed to last longer than they usually did. A deep desire and passion behind each one. Only up until recently had they come to terms with one another, finally being able to confess after all this time.

Now, Kakashi sat in the hot spring’s warm waters, his gaze trained on his girlfriend relaxing beside him. The mission they had been sent on, now completed early and taken care of. They figured it wouldn’t hurt to stay for one more night and enjoy the hot springs.

His eyes ate up the sight of her. The way her skin held a thin sheen of sweat and condensation, shining in the moonlight. A few strands of hair sticking to her forehead, cheeks, and neck. Lips parted slightly, head tilted back, chest rising and falling gently.

It was ludicrous, really. The way he was looking at her with no shame at all. Eyes raking over ever dip and curve of exposed skin. Focusing particularly on her breasts, the water moving around them, bobbing to become accustomed to their shape. His lustful stare was intense as his eyes continuously absorbed the sight in front of him, yet the whole time she could feel it. With his eyes trained on her, she peeked open one of her own as a shudder ran up her spine, catching a glimpse him.

His hair dampened by the steam, chest glistening in a way that drove Y/n to new heights. The defined muscles accentuated in the moonlight. Nothing but a single, small towel was covering his face, replacing his usual mask. Y/n had insisted that it was alright for him to take it off, yet he still felt obligated just in case some lone stranger decided to stroll in at the dead of night.

“My eyes are up here, you know.” Y/n teased, lifting her head to look straight at Kakashi. The eye contact sending a strike of arousal through both of them. The ache between their legs only getting worse.

“Yeah,” Kakashi mused, eyes flickering down for a second before coming back up with a smirk, “You just look so good like this. I seriously don’t know what I did to deserve a woman like you.” His voice hung in the air like a song, Y/n melting at his words with an adorable giggle.

The water rippled around them as Y/n shifted to settle herself over his lap. Her thighs sat snuggly over his, chest to chest as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She pressed her breasts against him teasingly, playing with the hair on the nape of his neck, a tall tell sign that she wanted him.

“I think....” She began, shifting slightly in Kakashi’s lap, “That we should head back to the room for a little while.” Her words coated in desire as she spoke, looking deeply into his eyes, telling him exactly what she wanted.

Kakashi hummed in agreement as his hands moved to rest on her bare hips, squeezing instinctively as she lightly swiveled her pelvis. All the while the water swayed around them in rhythmic movements.

Without a single word, Kakashi removed the towel covering the lower half of his face, slowly pulling her in for a kiss. Lips slotting together comfortably like so many times before. In a way that if anyone saw, their jealousy was guaranteed. Kakashi really was a lucky man, and he knew it.

The kiss was hot, full of lust and passion as their hands roamed over wet, warm skin. With parted lips, their tongues danced sinfully. All senses heightened, being stimulated simultaneously.

He was like putty in her hands, shivering whenever her fingertips danced over certain spots on his body, blood rushing to his length by the second. Never did Y/n think Kakashi’s body would be so reactive to her touch. Soon she felt his length press against her lower abdomen, chuckling lightly.

“Come on,” She pulled away reluctantly, feeling him resist slightly, “You’re the one who insisted on wearing a mask even though there’s not a single soul here besides us.” A smile teased on her lips as he held her impossibly closer.

A playful sigh left his lips, groaning, “I suppose you’re right....” A flirty tone laying underneath his words, “But we’re already here. To go back to the room we would need to get up, put our clothes back on, only for us to take them off again seconds later.”

The moment he spoke those words, a mischievous smirk etched onto Y/n’s plump lips, an idea blossoming in her head.

Not even a minute later, two of the most respectable ninja of the Hidden Leaf were dashing down the hallway of a lone motel, completely naked, clothes slung over their shoulders as they tried their hardest not to burst out into loud laughter.

The door swung open as the couple rushed in, the air becoming thick with tension as they caught their breath. A small thud could be heard as they threw their clothes elsewhere. Now standing in the middle of the room, eyes locked in an intense gaze, chests raising and falling as they reciprocate from the antics they just partook in.

This feeling of lightness as well as lust swirled around in Kakashi’s chest, something he lived for. The way she made him feel like he was on top of the world with every passing moment was something he craved. The high he gets whenever he was with her was addictive. Something he never thought he’d get to experience in his lifetime. He didn’t ever plan on stopping either.

Within seconds, they has stumbled their way onto the bed in a tangled mess of limbs. Kakashi situated over her frame as his hands moved to wrap her legs around his waist while they were captured in a heated kiss. With this proximity, their skin was warm to the touch as arousal pooled between Y/n’s legs. Now his lips ghosted over her jaw and continued further on to her neck and collarbones.

A delighted sigh fell from her lips as Kakashi ran his tongue over the area he just marked, lips soft as he sucked on the spot that he knew made her go weak in the knees. All the while she managed to snake a hand between their bodies, taking hold of his member, grazing her thumb over the tip and pumping it a few times. His cock felt heavy in her hands as the veins throbbed under her touch. Kakashi wanted nothing more than for her to cast her magic spell and drive him wild.

“Kakashi...” She whispered, bucking her hips up, “I need you.” Her hand trailed up his abdomen, the muscles going taunt under her fingertips as they continued up and into his hair.

“Anything for you.” He mused, his chest inflating, knowing what he was getting himself into. He ran his length through her folds, a pretty moan falling from her lips as he did so, collecting her wetness.

Kakashi hissed at how tight she was, squeezing around his tip mercilessly, almost enticing him in. Y/n’s mouth fell open, eyes rolling back as her walls stretched to accommodate to his size.

It was euphoric, the way she felt. Velvety walls clamping up whenever he withdrew to thrust forward again. One hand gripping the bed sheets beside her while the other was clasped onto her hip.

As his pelvis continued to snap into hers at a steady pace, her breasts bobbed with each thrust. A sight Kakashi would never get tired of seeing.

“Fuck....” He sighed, hand releasing the sheets to take hold of one of her breasts, “You feel so good.” His lips brushed against her with each word, colliding soon after in a messy kiss, consisting of teeth and tongue.

He could feel her orgasam starting to build. The muscles in her lower abdomen contracting as the coil in her core tightened, Kakashi hitting just the right spot. That spongy little spot that held the key to a mind shattering orgasam.

“Kakashi, please!” Y/n whined, teeth grinding as her eyes were squeezed shut, “Fuck, I wanna cum! Make me yours.” With those words, something snapped inside of him, completely gone and focused on only one thing.

Kakashi made quick movements, shifting so he could grab the back of her thighs and press them to her chest. At the new feeling the position change brought, they nearly lost their minds. Y/n’s walls growing impossibly tighter as Kakashi thrusted into her even deeper.

Y/n’s legs dangled in the air as Kakashi held her thighs, pistoning his hips into hers with incredible speed. The squelching of her wetness echoed in the room as she creamed around his cock. Hot tears running down her cheeks as the intense orgasam rushing over her. Incoherent babbles and words leaving her mouth as he worked her through the high.

“Come on, baby,” Kakashi praised, “Just hold on for me for a little bit longer, ok?” He leaned down to place a gentle kiss on her cheek, licking the tears his lips picked up when he pulled away.

With that he worked quick, taking deep and strong strokes as he paced for his own climax. While doing so, Y/n felt another one quickly creeping up on her.

“Fuck, Kakashi! I’m cumming again.” She cried out, the ballon in her core bursting. Her tight cunt spraying all over his thighs and stomach, squeezing him so tight it was almost painful, triggering his own release. He pressed her thighs down, closer to her chest, holding his hips as close as he could to her hot skin. His tip kissing her cervix, painting it with pretty white strands of his cum.

He gently let down her legs, hissing as he pulled out. Y/n whining quietly at the empty feeling, the mixture of their cum leaking out of her cunt and onto the sheets below.

“You did so good, babe,” Kakashi sang, a tired smile etched on his face, arms moving to wrap around her midsection, “You’re the only woman in the world that could make me feel this good.” His words sweet, sounding like music in her ears as she chuckled softly, pulling him in for a gentle kiss.

“I love you, Kakashi Hatake.” She mused against his lips. Running her fingers through his messy hair, eyes now blown with love and admiration.

His smile grew even wider, hand coming up to caress her face, “I love you too, Y/n L/n. More than you know.”

[princessofcurses]

[2] Take it.

Part 1 Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader Written from the perspective of Sukuna content warning: out of character, curse words, cigarette smoking, mutilation (quick and heals right back), blood, oral (F receiving), virginity lost, squirting Word Count: 4.4k If you like it, please leave a like and/or reblog ♡

The next night, she was sitting on the goose feather stuffed futon I had gotten for her yesterday. She was reading a book about the Big Three Vengeful Spirits while one of my servants painted her toenails. She told me to pick a color, and I picked a dark red like the color of blood. I got a kick out of seeing my choice on her toes. I took a seat beside her.

“Maybe I should get a pedicure too.”

“Get a manicure while you’re at it.”

Wait, did she say that because I was fingering her last night? Ugh. My servant flinched after Y/N had talked back to me. They were shocked and had bowed and ran off as soon as they finished with her nails, hoping to evade punishment I would usually give to someone (and those around them) who disobeyed me. But they would have no effect on her. The little brat has returned. I remembered her face as she was cumming hard around my fingers yesterday. Can I have her back? We hadn’t talked about yesterday yet but now was a good time to.

“What’d you think about last night?”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N.”

She gave me a coy smile and then stuck her tongue out at me. I wanted to grab her chin and kiss her. I wanted to do last night all over again. I wanted to finally put her in her place.

“It was okay.”

Okay? She fucking cried while cumming and it was just okay? She gives me a headache. I don’t know what to do with her.

“Why did you cry then?”

She brought her hand to her mouth and chuckled.

“I’m trying to figure that out too.”

She shrugged. I sighed deeply. I needed to solve her and unravel the mystery.

“For a moment, I felt like I was yours. And I didn’t like the feeling of upsetting who I belonged to.”

I felt a heat in my chest that traveled downward and made my stomach drop. Y/N actually felt true remorse for being a cocky brat, if only for a moment. I wanted to own her and call her mine. It did feel like she was mine when I touched her. I wanted to keep her by my side. I could pleasure her for as long as we live and I could train her to be my good girl too. I never thought to have a Queen, but she would be perfect.

“Don’t get the wrong idea. I came back to my senses after I finished cumming.”

The image I had of us together in my head shattered by her crass words. I’ve never struggled this much to get something I want. I couldn’t stand it. She knows what she’s doing to me. I’m sure she’s teasing me.

She pulled out a packet of cigarettes and I looked at it with disgust.

“You can’t smoke here.”

“Fine.”

I blinked and she had vanished. She wasn’t in the shrine anymore. I went outside looking for her. I followed the scent of smoke and found her standing upon the highest point of the building. She smoked her cigarette nonchalantly.

“You’re disrespecting my dwelling.”

“What? You said I couldn’t smoke in there so I went outside!”

I sighed out of exasperation and my palm met my face.

“You’re so frustrating.”

We stood in silence together. She took a long drag and closed her eyes.

“Well… it was one of the best fingerings I’ve ever gotten. Like top three!”

One of them? She’s trying to piss me off. But I wouldn’t doubt she’d bring up the ‘hundreds of women I’ve slept with’ comment if I said something.

“To be honest, I really wanted you last night. I was aching for something to fill me up. I called out for you in a moment of weakness but I decided to stick by my words.”

My head perked up in interest. So she does want me. That’s valuable information.

“I mean it though. I’m not going to have sex with you. When I lose it to another virgin, let’s talk.”

She laughed and was about to leap down. I grabbed her wrist to keep her with me for a moment. She froze as we made eye contact. She could see how serious I was about wanting her but after a few seconds, she disappeared back into the shrine. I hated how easy it was for her to brush me off and I was crushed I had no chance with her. I couldn’t let her get away. There’s no way I would ever meet another woman who can be my equal in battle and is able to resist me. There must be something I can say or do to show her that the past doesn’t matter, that I would make her my whole life right now.

After a few moments alone to strategize, I followed her back inside.

“Let me lay with you.”

She shook her head.

“There isn’t enough space for you.”

“Just move over. I bought this anyway.”

“You bought it for ME.”

She pouted but then scooted over. I spooned her and took in the pleasant fragrance of her hair. She seemed to be ignoring me, opting to pay attention to her phone instead. Whatever.

I slowly moved my hand to her thigh and touched her softly.

“What about foreplay?”

“What?”

There was annoyance in her voice. We both sat up to face each other.

“I mean, you’ve had it before so I’m not taking anything from you.”

She put her hand to her chin and looked up to help her think, though she already knew what she was going to say.

“I don’t want to.”

“Is it because of what happened in the past, Y/N? What does it matter now? That was all before I met you.”

She shrugged with an arrogant smile on her face, knowing she had the upper hand here.

“I told you of my conditions.”

I put my head in my hands out of frustration. This was the last thing I could think of trying.

“I’ll cut it off.”

She gasped with concern but then bellowed out a laugh.

“You would really do that just to have sex with me?”

“Huh? Uh…”

Fuck. I made it an option now. What did I just do? Is it really worth it? I started thinking about her small mouth around my cock and how I would have to do some extensive training to get it to fit down her throat. I wanted to practice however many times, and as long as it would take. Was this the only way? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. My thoughts were in a frenzy but I collected myself to say calmly.

“Yeah. I would.”

What the fuck. She has the most devious look on her face right now. She actually wants me to do it.

“I mean, you can use reverse cursed technique.”

The fucking brat. Her smug smile made me want to choke her out. I made a promise to myself that I would get her back for this if I get the chance to fuck her.

“It’s still going to hurt like hell. And be very disturbing.”

“I’m here for you.”

I won’t forget her mocking of me. She’ll get hers soon enough. I stood up and let my kimono drop to the floor. My dick was already hard and she eyed it through my briefs with an interested look on her face. She looked up at me and our eyes met. I swear I saw her subtly bite her lip. She then watched intently as I slowly took my briefs off, my cock popping right out of them. I’m sorry, buddy. We’ve been through it all together. This is fucking ridiculous.

“Can you promise me something, Y/N?”

She broke her concentration from my dick to reply to me.

“What is it?”

“Will you make me regret this?”

Her mischievous smile concerned me.

“No.”

That was sufficient for me. I leaned over to kiss her and our lips met. I didn’t expect her to be willing to but she wanted to comfort me. Her lips were soft and warm and they reminded me that what I was about to do would be worth it. Right? Why can’t we just fuck right now? Ugh. Let’s fucking get this over with. I used my cursed technique to cleanly cut it from the base. I dropped to my knees, using one of my hands to support me. The pain was intense and the sight of my dick falling to the floor made me want to throw up. Blood spurted everywhere and I was coughing up blood. Y/N stared in shock and amusement, like she couldn’t believe I had actually done it. I began to heal my dick and it grew back in several seconds. She covered her mouth and looked a bit disgusted but more intrigued.

“It’s done.”

“You’re crazy.”

“You really don’t know how much I want you.”

“Oh, please. It wouldn’t take you long to forget me.”

“How could I forget you after what I just did for you?”

She rolled her eyes with a smirk. I shook my head while I put my briefs and kimono back on. I brushed myself off and got down to lay my head in her lap. She petted my head while I was still recovering from the traumatic severing. She ran her fingers through my hair and lightly scratched my scalp with her nails. I couldn’t exactly say what I was feeling right now. It’s something I haven’t felt before.

“I don’t understand why you’re doing all of this for me.”

The snarky tone left Y/N’s voice and was replaced with a softer one for a bit. I looked up at her to meet her gaze. She brushed her hand across my cheek and then she traced the markings on my face with her index finger. Her touch was so soothing but it sent shivers through me at the same time.

“There isn’t another woman out there like you.”

She scoffed.

“How cliché.”

I sat up to face her.

“I mean it. I consider you my equal. There are very, very few people I can call my equal and I’ve killed most of them already. If I could kill you, I would’ve done so by now. But your technique neutralizes mine so I can’t. The next best thing is to make you mine. You’d be the perfect Queen for me.”

She stayed silent and we had a staring contest. She didn’t seem too impressed by my answer. I continued on.

“I could give you last night every night and much more. I’ll figure out exactly what you want. Mentally, physically, sexually, materially, everything."

She looked curious. I had to slowly chip away at her walls to bring them down. She is the strongest female Jujutsu sorcerer after all. She doesn’t need me but I could be everything she wants.

“Let me prove it to you.”

I outstretched my hand for her to hold. She hesitated but once she grabbed it, I kissed the back of her hand and I pulled her into me between my legs, with her back to my chest. I wrapped my arms around her and put my mouth to ear. I breathed lightly by her earlobe and whispered to her.

“I could be yours if you’ll be mine.”

My words sent a chill down her spine. I kissed her ear and gently took a fistful of her hair in my hand to tilt her head for easier access to her neck. I made sure not to be rough with her yet. I would ease her into it. I gave her soft kisses down her neck to her collarbone. She squirmed a bit, and she told me that she’s especially ticklish there. I followed the same trail with my tongue and she shivered.

“Do you want to know what else I can do with my tongue?”

Y/N nodded and I positioned myself in front of her. I spread her legs and went eye level with her cunt. I rubbed over her clit through her panties with my thumb, noticing how warm she was. I slipped her panties off and took a good look at her pussy. Beautiful. She had also waxed completely. I hadn’t noticed yesterday since I was only fingering her. Was she anticipating this moment? Has she been playing hard to get this entire time? Well, I’ve been waiting for this too, darling. She blushed and tried to cover her pussy with her hands.

“Don’t stare at it so much. It’s embarrassing.”

I smirked at her.

“Fully waxed, huh? And I bet you taste so good. Move your hands.”

As she exposed herself for me, I licked my lips and dove in. I gathered my saliva in my mouth and spat it right onto her clit for lubrication. Her face went red and she put her hands on her face out of self-consciousness. For a brat with a big mouth, her shyness right now surprised me. My tongue flicked up her clit a few times and a soft moan escaped her lips. I took the sound as an okay to go faster. I licked up and down at a steady pace. I brought my tongue down to her opening and I stuck my tongue in and out of her cunt. Her legs started to tremble.

As I focused my mouth on her clit, I moved up my hands under her dress to play with both of her nipples. She wriggled beneath me as I rubbed them between my fingers and she pushed herself closer to my mouth. I bet she could feel the smile I had on right now so I quickened the tempo. My tongue started at her opening and I licked slowly all the way to the top of her clit and then I changed to a quick up and down motion. I picked up the subtle movement of her cunt clenching into itself, signaling that it was time to add my fingers into it. I teased her orifice where her arousal was collecting. I lightly went over it without entering her. I made eye contact with her and she covered her face again.

“What happened, princess? Do you want me to stop?”

“No.. I want more, please.”

She spoke meekly. The smile I wore had a bit of conceit behind it. I had gotten her so vulnerable.

“Because you asked so sweetly.”

I inserted my middle finger slowly and she immediately tightened around it. I groaned feeling how tight she was. Fuck.

“That’s too tempting.”

I pulled the skin of her mound up to expose her clit completely. It had grown swollen and was obviously begging for attention. I wasted no time continuing my rapid licking. My up and down motion turned into circles which turned into licking one spot on her clit in particular and then moving to another spot, and remembering which places were her favorite. Throughout this all, I fingered her excruciatingly slow.

“I think you’re ready for another finger. Is that okay?”

“Yes, Sukuna!”

She had answered me just as I finished my sentence. I grinned at her maliciously. I finally had her exactly where I wanted. I added my ring finger inside of her and the two fingers alone filled her up. Her pussy tightened around my fingers repeatedly. I was getting restless. It wouldn’t be much longer until I can stretch her out with my cock. I fingered her slowly at first, but then I hooked my fingers upward and pressed that perfect spot at a leisurely pace. This elicited a loud moan from her and she pulled at my hair.

With my come hither motion with my fingers and my tongue licking away at her clit, her moans filled almost every other second. I brought my lips to her clit and sucked lightly. I then kissed up and down her folds before putting work on her clit with my tongue again. Her legs shook uncontrollably.

“Hold your legs back for me.”

She held her legs back by her thighs so I had even easier access to her. I sneered at her.

“You’ll do whatever I say?”

She nodded timidly. My goal was to pleasure her so much that she submits to me. It was working.

“I’m training you well, aren’t I? Look at me.”

She hesitated, probably embarrassed at what was happening down here. She made eye contact with me and I had on a devious smile while I licked her clit. She ran her fingers through my hair, feeling my undercut and then tugging at the top. She looked down at my tongue swiftly licking at her clit and my fingers entering and exiting over and over again. She was mesmerized. As we stared into each other’s eyes, I knew the sexual gratification was overwhelming for her. She felt filthy witnessing what I was doing to her and the pleasure on her facial expression made it obvious that she loved it.

“Sukuna, I want to cum..”

I chuckled haughtily.

“Go ahead. I give you permission to.”

Our eyes were locked on each other. She wanted to hold back and last a bit longer to savor the moment for just a few more seconds but she was at her limit.

“Right there!”

She cried out. I didn’t waste any time in giving her exactly what she wanted. She winced and closed her eyes shut, preparing for the orgasm she was about to have. I lightly slapped her on her cheek to make her regain focus.

“Fucking look at me.”

She opened her eyes to see mine glowing red. She had on that worried face she makes when she’s about to cum. The feeling crept up on her and then it hit her harshly. She gasped hard and then she began to gush. Her moans were still loud even though she was breathless and convulsing. I raised my head and began to chuckle again. My face was drenched in her juices. I slapped her cunt a few times, eliciting a yelp-like moan from her.

“Oh? Has anyone ever made you squirt before?”

She panted for air and shook her head. I went face level with her and pet her head with a warm smile.

“Good.”

I felt the heat radiating from her cunt. She was ready.

“So what should we do now?

“I want more..”

She spoke quietly and apprehensively.

“What? I couldn’t hear you. I won’t ask you to speak up again.”

My forbidding facial expression took hold of her, telling her to do as I say, now.

“I want more, Sukuna! Please give me more!”

“What do you want exactly?”

“I want.. your cock!”

I looked at her with a wicked smile that betrays all purity. I quickly undressed and she bit her finger at the sight of my dick. She was still holding her legs back for me and I grasped my cock and lined it up with her entrance. I gave her a couple of slaps to her cunt with it and then I rubbed it over her clit. She took in a short and deep breath, feeling some of its thickness and weight but before I entered, I leaned in close to her ear to tell her something.

“Your innocence is mine.”

Y/N’s expression had a bit of fear in it but she had no objections. With that little warning, I thrust myself fully into her, burying myself in her soaking wet cunt. She cried out in pleasure and in pain.

“Good girl.”

I said arrogantly as I slid my cock out slowly just before the exit, then thrusting back into her at the same agonizing pace, getting deep into her and feeling her cervix on the head of my cock. She was unbelievably tight. Her breath was labored and she let out her sultry moan that I loved hearing, all the while we made intense eye contact. Her eyes were wide with lust, her mouth was open, and her face in pleasure from me filling her up was exactly what I’ve been waiting to see. I stuck two of my fingers in her mouth and she immediately began swirling her tongue around them and sucking on them.

“You know, I don’t think I would’ve been able to tell that you were a virgin if you didn’t tell me. You’re so willing and I can tell your tongue is experienced.”

Her face went ruddy and she hid it with her palms. I moved her hands out of the way and gripped her neck.

“No need to be embarrassed about giving yourself up to me.”

I snickered and quickened my pace inside of her, the loudness of her moans egging me on. I tightened my grip around her throat and felt her clench hard around my cock, not wanting to let go. She put her hands on my wrist to hold onto. I groaned at how tight she was. At first, I thought for a second that I wouldn’t be able to fit inside of her but she’s such a good girl. She was taking it with no complaint even though I knew she was feeling some pain from a feeling she’s never felt before inside of her, stretching her walls and bumping into her cervix again and again.

“I could only dream about how good you would feel but it’s better than I could ever imagine. I want this every day.”

I’m not sure if she heard me over her moans. I might have to remind her later. I fucked her hard and fast, rolling my hips while thrusting into her. Her moans sounded like purrs. My little kitten. She meowed at me.

“Please, Suku. More..”

“I know, princess. Don’t rush me.”

I found her nickname for me very adorable. I smiled at her sinisterly and then I licked my thumb to lubricate it. It then found its way to her clit. I rubbed it up and down, matching the pace of my thrusts. She cried out her moans and her legs began to shake violently. I put them over my shoulders to stabilize her a bit more and my cock got even deeper inside of her. She winced and I pressed my lips against hers. The kiss was heated and passionate, our tongues meeting over and over. She moaned into my mouth and I couldn’t help but groan back.

I pulled out abruptly. She gasped and spoke with urgency to me.

“Don’t stop, please!”

“Let’s switch positions.”

She nodded obediently and I sat down.

“Sit on my cock.”

She quickly got up but took her time sitting on my dick, gradually taking the entire length inside of her. The warmness slowly enveloped my cock and I breathed out heavily. She let out a long moan as she took all of me inside of her. I began thrusting up to fuck her. She began to whine about how good my cock was and I made a mental note that she really loves this position. I firmly took a fistful of her hair and leaned her head back, leaving love bites on her neck that began to turn patches of her skin red and purple. I was marking her as mine.

Y/N could hardly speak. Besides moaning, she said my name over and over again, sprinkled with pleases and mores, and yelling out curse words. I loved how submissive she became. The more I pleasured her, the more she let me do whatever I wanted to her. All the trouble she put me through was worth it. I licked my index and middle finger and used my spit as lube to rub her clit. Her moans turned into wails and she buried her face in my shoulder.

“It’s too good, Suku.. I’m close..”

I composed myself to speak normally to her.

“Yeah? Are you going to cum on my cock?”

The filthy words I spoke to her forced her to orgasm. She cried out for me and wrapped her arms around my neck. She leaned her head back and her face in pleasure made me want to cum right at this second. I continued thrusting in her while rubbing her clit, not giving her a break even though she had just climaxed. She whimpered, feeling overstimulated.

“Just a little more, Y/N.”

I kissed her deeply and held her shaking body, slowly and almost romantically fucking her.

“Where do you want my cum?”

Her eyes went wide. She thought for a few seconds. Her already flushed face went even redder.

“What is it, princess? You can tell me anything.”

I was about to lose it. She opened her mouth to speak but couldn’t get the words out. She was a bit too occupied with the pleasure I was giving her. I tapped her cheek a few times to bring her back down to earth. I spoke with a bit of a harsher tone.

“Spit it out, brat.”

She was gathering up courage to tell me where she wanted it. A pressure was building up in her chest, but then she just shouted it out.

“I want your cum inside of me! Please, Suku! Please!”

Her needy whines pulled the rug from under me. I growled as I wrapped my arms around her and held her tightly as my cock twitched, coating her walls with my cum. My breathing was labored and my body spazzed out a bit. Trying to catch my breath, we stayed in this position for a while. I held her and pet the back of her head. She’s too good.

“So you can be a good girl. I just have to tame the little brat first.”

“Hmph.”

She pouted at first but then she smiled shyly and stole a quick kiss from me. She stood up and my cum leaked out of her cunt and started running down the inside of her thighs. I wiped some off with my fingers and I stood up and put them into her mouth. She happily licked it up and closed her eyes as if she had tasted something delectable. I towered over her and I held her closely to me, her face buried in my chest. I pulled away a bit and took hold of her chin to tilt it towards me.

“Did you like that, princess?”

Her next words were spoken with a snicker.

“It was okay.”

I smiled at her menacingly.

“Don’t lie to me, darling. I hope you know this is only the beginning. You’re mine now.”

MIGRATING TO A NEW BLOG @baji-san

[shipping-kitchen]

Sweet Burning Pleasure

Kinktober, Day One: Sex Pollen/Aphrodisiacs

Fandom: Resident Evil VIII

Pairing: Lady Dimitrescu/Female Reader

Words: 4,500

Warnings: body horror, really dubious consent/non-consensual, aphrodisiacs, the reader definitely thinks she’s going to die for most of the fic, lots of blood and blood drinking and vampire things, explicit sex, graphic descriptions of cuts and blood

Summary:  You are a maid in the Dimitrescu Castle, doing your best to keep your head down and survive. You eventually catch the attention of the Lady of the castle.

Important Note: I’m posting my Kinktober one-shots daily on tumblr, unedited! Eventually I’ll edit them and post them on AO3, but for now this is the first draft, and I hope you enjoy it ^-^

You were well aware that working at the Dimitrescu Castle was tantamount to a death sentence, but when Mother Miranda asked for new women to volunteer… it was an honour to be recognized by her. It would guarantee that your parents would eat well for the coming winter. The years in the village had stretched on, and you knew that your chances of staying on the farm were slim. Too many of your childhood friends had already been ushered away, to experiments and servitude to the Lords that surrounded the town.

You could become a wife in the town, produce more children to continue the cycle, but you couldn’t stomach the idea of marrying one of the men that you had grown up beside. Better to step forward, volunteer as a maid, accept the new dress that was sent your way, pack your scant belongings, and hug your parents goodbye as you began the walk towards the castle that loomed above your village.

You were wearing the dress that had been given to you when you were chosen: a grey dress that gathered at the waist and then flared out around your legs, falling to just below your knees. Paired with the apron that rested overtop, it was more elegant than the clothes you grew up with, but still clearly the clothes of a servant.

Your bag bumped against your shoulder blades as you walked through the gates, leaving your village behind. It was early Spring, and the vineyards were beginning to fill with greenery. The lattices surrounded you, the scent of fresh soil and new growth almost covering the decay of the scarecrows that hung around the path.

It was easier to look at the slowly growing vines than to face forward and the castle doors becoming larger as you drew towards it. Your heart was pounding, anxiety prickling on the back of your neck and the tips of your fingers. No one ever came back from the castle, and you had no idea what was waiting for you inside.

All too soon, your feet were climbing the stone steps towards the main doors. You paused in front of them, fixing the folds of your dress and pressing your hair back into place. Then you took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

It was long seconds before the door opened, revealing another woman in a similar grey dress. It wasn’t someone from the village, which didn’t surprise you. All of the Lords hired foreigners, the village not enough to staff their needs. She was an older woman, her hair beginning to grey.

You curtseyed, a small bobbing movement.

“I’m the new maid, ma’am. Sent from the village.”

“Well, come inside.” The woman stepped back and you obediently stepped inside, trying not to flinch as the huge door was shut behind you. “What’s your name, girl?”

The main hall of the castle was resplendent and golden. A large painting of three women was illuminated across the hall. There were delicate vases and intricate designs everywhere you looked. You told the woman your name, occupied with gazing around the hall in awe. You had never seen such splendor, and it filled you with both fear and anticipation.

“Hmm. Well, I’m the housekeeper, Ms. Matheski. You’ll take your orders from me. Welcome to Castle Dimitrescu.”

--

You had expected life at the castle to be something out of a horror movie, abstract ideas of dark hallways and boarded up rooms. The truth was much different: life at the castle was hard work.

There were dozens of rooms, and you had to prepare each one on a rotating schedule. There were sheets to wash in the river, fireplaces to clean out, mantels to polish, floors to mop. Every day, you worked hard and collapsed into bed for a deep sleep.

You rarely saw the mistresses of the castle, dressed all in black and cackling as they walked down the halls together. All of the servants knew to get out of the way when their voices came down the hallway. No one discussed the red crusted around the mistresses’ mouths, but everyone knew. The servants cleaned out the goblets, after all.

Sometimes, you encountered Lady Dimitrescu. While her daughters announced themselves with their raucous conversation, the lady of the house moved with an unpredictable silence. Many times, you were on your knees in front of a fireplace, covered in ashes, when you looked up to see Lady Dimitrescu behind you, watching your work.

The first time it had happened, you had scrambled to your feet, dropping to your lowest curtsey. Your eyes on the ground, you waited. Her presence was all-encompassing: she was so large, and in her white dress, unlike anything else in the castle.

Lady Dimistrecu had laughed and told you to continue working. On her way out of the room, she had touched her fingers to the top of your head, and your knees had gone weak from fear. And then she was gone, and you collapsed back in front of the fireplace.

Since then, you had gotten used to the Lady’s presence, and the way she came and went, overseeing everyone’s work. Those who made mistakes were the ones to disappear: you made sure that you listened carefully and double-checked your work.

And so you survived, into the winter.

--

Winter in the castle was different: the fires were kept blazing, more wood being ordered from the village almost daily. The windows were boarded up, to keep out the cold. Before, the Dimitrescu daughters had come and gone from the castle, but now they remained in their rooms, more sullen and more likely to lash out.

You kept working, you kept your head down. You did your best to avoid the daughters and please the Lady. Ms. Matheski was never displeased with your work, but she wasn’t warm with any of the girls who worked in the castle. You didn’t blame her.

One day, you had been assigned to the main hall. The main hall had to be cleaned daily, unlike the other rooms, and it was a dangerous assignment. Lady Dimitrescu was picky about the banister, and the daughters often came through the main hall on their way from their rooms. The winter was dragging on, and the mistresses were restless. Daniella, especially, had taken to tormenting the maids: tearing their clothes, throwing rats at them while they worked, and occasionally dragging them off to the lower levels, where you had never been asked to work.

You made your way into the main hall cautiously, entering through the servant door. It was empty, and you got down to work. The fireplace was first, cleaned out and then refilled with new wood and lit again. The castle was kept at a warmth that was almost stifling in winter, but you knew better than to complain.

Once the fire was lit, you turned your attention to the dishes that had been left on the table in the hall. The daughters liked to dine here, and often left a mess. It would take you several trips across the castle to the kitchen to clear the table, so it was best to get started.

You gathered up the first stack of dishes and made off, your dress swirling around your legs as you made your way down the familiar hallways. You tried not to let them rattle, cautious of drawing attention to yourself, and breathed a sigh of relief when you reached the kitchen without incident.

“Dishes from the main hall,” you told the maid washing dishes. “More to come.”

She nodded in acknowledgement and you headed back out the door, your soft leather shoes making no noise on the carpeted hallway as you went back to the main hall.

When you entered the hall, you froze. Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters were all in the hall, warming themselves in front of the fire you had recently lit. Bela was reclining against her mother’s chest, her sisters’ heads resting on their mother’s legs. It was a relaxed tableau, and not something you felt that you should be present for.

But Lady Dimistrecu was already looking towards the door as you stepped in, so you dropped into a hasty curtsy and reached behind yourself for the door.

“Please, continue,” the Lady commanded, waving her hand towards you. “The table needs clearing.”

“Yes, my Lady,” you said, hearing your voice come out quiet and hesitant. You clenched your jaw against your own hesitation, and walked towards the table. You could feel the eyes of the daughters upon you. You only hoped that their closeness with their mother would be enough to keep them content.

You gathered the plates and the goblets, trying to keep your hands from shaking. You could do this, despite the eyes on you. You could do this.

Distracted by your fear and the prickling awareness of your watchers, you picked up one of the knives the wrong way, and felt hot pain shoot through your palm.

You inhaled, but made no sound of pain, and forced yourself not to jerk back. Instead, you calmly placed the knife on the stack of plates with the others, and picked up the stack.

When you turned, Cassandra was standing directly in front of you. You had never seen one of the daughters this close, and it was immediately apparent that there was something wrong with her eyes. It looked like there was something moving inside the darkness of her pupils.

You refused to flinch backwards. Fear crawled up your spine, but you stood still. You held the plates steady. Your palm was burning where you had cut it.

Cassandra’s hand shot out and wrapped around your wrist.

Despair grew around you. This was sure to be the end, no matter how careful you had been.

She pulled your hand forward, and there was no resisting her grip. The plates slipped from your grasp and shattered on the floor at your feet.

Your palm was splayed upwards, and you could see how shallow the cut had been. Only a few beads of blood were brought to the surface, tiny droplets along a jagged line where the knife had dug into your skin.

An unnatural whine came from Cassandra’s chest, more like a cicada’s song than a human voice. She leaned towards your palm, and you closed your eyes, unwilling to watch.

There was a growl and then a harsh tug as Cassandra’s hand was pulled off your wrist. You pulled your hand back to your chest, opening your eyes to see Bela tussling with Cassandra on the floor, both of them making a strange growling-whining noise.

“Mine,” Cassandra hissed.

“Mine,” Bela growled back, and slammed her hand through her sister’s head. Insects exploded around her arm, twining up towards Bela’s face, and both of them dissolved into a swarm of struggling insects. As they fought, you took two steps back, and then pelted towards one of the further doors.

You didn’t expect to make it, but somehow, the door was closing behind you and you were still running, following the winding hallways back to your room. You slammed the door to your room and leaned against it, panting.

You could feel your heartbeat drumming against your ribs and your temples, your hand clenched in a fist around the cut that had started the fight. You knew, logically, that you aren’t safe here. This room was just another part of their castle, it would be easy enough to find you.

But you were in your own space. No one had ever come into this room while you’d been here. It was your safety in the castle. A place where you had never felt afraid. The fear was already beginning to fade, even as you struggled to hold onto it. Should you run? Would they forget? Would their mother blame you for their fight?

You unclenched your hand and looked at the cut again. The blood was already beginning to dry. You knew you should clean it, your hands still ashy from the fireplace. There was a washbasin in your room and you moved towards it, dipping your hands into the cold water. It came from the well outside the castle, and while it was boiled for the Lady’s baths and morning toilette, it was still cold for your own basin. It grounded you, washed away the last of the adrenaline. You watched the ashes swirl into the water. There wasn’t enough blood to turn the water pink. Such a small cut.  

Surely it would be easily forgotten.

As you dried your hands, there was a knock on your door. One, two, three raps, and then silence.

The fear returned, a lump in your throat as you moved towards the door. There were no windows in your room, no escape from whatever waited on the other side. A disappointed housekeeper, a curious maid, a murderous mistress…

You put your hand on the doorknob, inhaled, and opened the door.

White fabric greeted you, falling in elegant ripples to the ground.

“Hello, my pet,” said Lady Dimitrescu. “May I come in?”

You stumbled back, unable to deny her. She bent to enter your room, her hat brushing the edges of the doorway. Like her daughters, she was pale as moonlight. When she straightened, she was very close to the ceiling. The servant’s quarters lacked the high ceilings of the rest of the house, not made with the Lady of the house in mind.

“I’m sorry, my Lady,” you managed. “I didn’t mean to drop the plates.”

“Mmm. My daughters are impatient. I don’t blame you for the accident.” Lady Dimitrescu reached towards you, and you allowed it. Her hand wrapped around your wrist, just as Cassandra had held you earlier, but the scale was different. Her palm cupped your entire wrist, her fingers wrapping up your arm to the elbow. You had never felt so small, so helpless, so delicate. “I’ve spoken with them.”

“I… thank you.” Your body was thrumming with a mixture of fear, hope, and contact. Her fingertips rested delicately on the inside of your arm, against the veins.

“You are a rare delight,” Lady Dimitrescu murmured. “You caught my daughters off-guard.” Gently, she turned your palm upwards to show the faint line where the knife had cut. Her thumb traced the mark, expression going hazy for a moment. “You surprised me as well.”

“My Lady?” you asked, unsure what to make of her attention. You tried pulling your hand back, and her grip tightened on your arm, sudden enough to make you gasp. Her eyes snapped upwards to meet your gaze, and she looked hungry.

“It’s been a long winter, my dear,” Lady Dimitrescu said, as if it were a confession, as if this were a conversation, as if she were not holding you in place. “The wine is sweet, but you… are almost certainly sweeter.”

That was enough for you to know where this was going. You pushed yourself backwards, trying to wrench your arm from Lady Dimitrescu’s grasp, but it was no use. Her fingers were like marble on your wrist, solid and unbreaking.

“Hush, my pet.”

Her other hand wrapped around the back of your neck, and you heard yourself make a short sound of fear. Instinct made you freeze in place, your nape cradled in her palm. Her fingers rested on your collarbones. She was leaning down above you, and her eyes were so dark and hungry.

“It will not hurt,” Lady Dimitrescu whispered.

And then her lips were on your neck, and she was lying, it hurt, soft lips and sharp teeth and then searing pain up and down your spine. You could hear yourself crying out, you could hear the sound of her licking the blood from the bite mark. It was wet and wrong and you couldn’t free yourself from her grasp, no matter how you squirmed in her arms.

It seemed like forever before the pain began to dull, still radiating along your shoulder and back. The ache drew inwards and became almost unimportant. Lady Dimitrescu’s arms were strong around you. You could let your body relax, and still she held you close to her. Your blood had stained the white satin of the arm she held behind your head, keeping your neck steady as she fed. You could feel her lips and tongue, teasing the ragged holes made by her teeth, keeping the blood flowing. But somehow, it just didn’t hurt. You found yourself eased by her closeness, the certainty of her hold on your body.

Between one breath and the next, Lady Dimitrescu drew back with one last kiss to your wounds. She looked like her daughters now, crimson all around her lips and dripping down her chin, messy and dark. She groaned as she looked down at you, her gaze flickering from your neck to your eyes and back again.

You still felt like unable to move. Lady Dimitrescu was holding you, and there was no need to go anywhere. Your limbs were too heavy, even if you had wanted to. You blinked up at her, dazed by the hunger that still burned in her eyes after her meal.

Gently, Lady Dimitrescu lifted you into her arms like a child, cradling your head and hips. She laid you down on the bed, traced a finger through the ruined skin where she had bit you.

“As sweet as any fruit before Mother’s gift,” the Lady whispered, kneeling beside the bed. “You are exquisite.”

You wanted to touch the blood on her lips, but your hand only lifted slightly when you tried to move it.

She smiled at the movement, took your hand in hers. Again, you felt like a doll between her palms, so all-encompassing.

“Let me give you a gift of my own, my sweet.” You watched Lady Dimitrescu reach up and take off her hat, tossing it carelessly to the other side of the room. Her hair was held in a low coil behind her head, and she pulled the elastics from it, letting the waves fall over her shoulders. From the centre of the coil, she extracted a narrow blade. It was silver, delicate carvings on the blade flashing in the low lights of your room.

The Lady of the castle always wore gloves, but now she took them off and put them on your bedside table. Beneath the leather gloves, her hands were grey and white lines like marble spread beneath her skin. She rolled up one blood-soaked sleeve of her dress, and you saw that the white and grey lines went all the way up her body. Glancing at her face, from so close to her, it was clear that she was wearing some kind of makeup to make her appear pale like her daughters.

Lady Dimitrescu brought the blade down on her own arm, and you watched it cut through her skin. You half-expected the blood to be grey, but it was as red as your own.

She held her arm over your mouth, and you felt the warm droplets drip onto your lips. Soon your lips would look just as scarlet as hers.

“Open up, my pet,” Lady Dimitrescu told you, a smile in her voice.

Obediently, you parted your lips, and the blood met your tongue. It didn’t taste like metal and copper, as it did when you bit your lip. This was rich and full and thick, burning in your throat like whiskey when you swallowed it.

“Good.”

She watched you drink, your blood on her lips and hers on your own. The burning in your throat spread to your stomach and then out to the tips of your toes and your fingers, even your scalp prickling with sudden warmth. The dull ache of your neck went away, and when Lady Dimitrescu passed her fingers over the bitemark again, you felt that the holes are gone, your skin whole and healed. Her fingers still came back red with blood, though, which she licked from her fingertips with clear enjoyment.

Too soon, her arm healed and the blood stopped. You opened your mouth, silently asking for more, and she laughed at you, a low chuckle that made the burning even worse.

Then she leaned down and pressed her lips to yours.

There was the familiar taste of your own blood, thin and metallic. There was the unfamiliar feeling of lips against yours, prompting and playing. Her teeth nipped at your lip, and you returned the favour. She hummed approval, and you brought your hands up to run your fingers through her hair. You hadn’t noticed when the heaviness had left your body, but now every atom of you was screaming that you want to be closer to her.

Your Lady pressed into the kiss, overwhelming you for a moment. There was so much to think about, tongue and teeth and lips and the silken feeling of her hair. Her fingers were cupping your chin, changing the angle of the kiss, trailing down your neck to caress your collarbones.

The light touches were setting your body on fire, pressing up to get more contact. Lady Dimitrescu obliged, curling herself over you. Her knees rested low on the bed, her arms wrapped around you, the bed complaining under your combined weight. She was a solid wall of fabric brushing against your chest, your hips, and you wanted to be closer.

Lady Dimitrescu broke from the kiss and you moved on instinct, pressing your lips to the corner of her jaw. She tilted her head, giving you access, and you kissed down the elegant curve of her neck. When the need for more pressed at you again, you bit down on her neck. She moaned, and it was the most human sound you’d heard from her all night. You kissed and bit down to her shoulder, pushing the fabric of her dress out of the way.

You felt like you were out of your mind with this strange burning that flared through your body, needing something from her, needing everything from her. You tore satin in your quest for her skin, some still-rational part of your brain shocked at your audacity.

Grey skin stretched down her shoulders, marked with those same pale lines. She was warm under your lips, and you scraped her skin with your teeth. Lady Dimitrescu shifted against you, holding you closer, and you could hear her breathing unevenly.

At least you weren’t alone in this wild need. She was hungry for you, and you could taste it when she brought your lips back to hers, with new urgency.

“Please, my Lady,” you managed when she drew back. You didn’t know what you were begging for, and she was a work of art with her dress torn, hanging off one shoulder, blood and lipstick smeared across her chin.

“Yes,” Lady Dimistrescu said, her voice low. She leaned back and you whined at the loss of her warm presence, but then her hands were lifting your dress, effortlessly freeing you from its layers. The rush of air on your bare skin did nothing to cool the fire, and you grabbed for her wrists as she threw your dress carelessly across the room.

Only when Lady Dimitrescu’s hands were back on your bare skin did you relax, arching into the sensation. Her fingers are a little sharp, and she traced them delicately across the lines of your ribs, the soft rolls of your stomach, and then, teasing, across the curve of your breasts. You could feel your breath catch, helpless to stop yourself from pressing into the touch.

She practically purrs at that, leaning down to lick the remaining blood from your neck. Stopping to nibble your collarbone, she mouths down to the top of your breasts, cupping them and tracing their outline. It is a sublime torture as Lady Dimitrescu puts her mouth to you and you feel her tongue tracing around your swiftly hardening nipple.

You hear your voice crying out, hear your Lady humming her pleasure, feel her hands pinning down your hips. The air is cold: the sheets are soft: there is so much sensation racing through your body.

“Please,” you whisper, shuddering against her. “Please, please.”

And her hands run down from your hips, along the line of your outer thighs, and then delicately up the delicate inner thigh, making you squirm. She is close to where you’re soaking through your undergarments, so close and so far.

You’re panting, burning, moaning, and then her hands are finally on you, certain through the fabric. Her tongue, her fingers, you rock between them, overwhelmed.

Lady Dimitrescu slides your undergarments down without lifting her mouth from your breast and then you are bare to her, entirely. You can feel how wet you are when she runs her fingers across you. It’s too much and not enough.

Her touch leaves you for a moment, and you gasp for breath. When she touches you, it feels like the whole world narrows to her fingers and mouth. Without her, there is too much. The room is cold and you are still burning.

Lady Dimitrescu doesn’t make you wait long: she slides back on top of you, her knees caging your legs as she bends down to kiss you. She is too large for the bed, nearly bent in half to reach your mouth, a nightmare of grey skin and streaked blood, and she is everything you desire. She kisses with a demanding pace, and you return it.

Her fingers creep back up your inner thighs and you spread your legs as best you can. Your Lady is quick to return to your centre, starting slowly with her exploration. It brings the fire down for a moment, calm strokes along your folds, teasing brushes across your clit. Then the light touches begin to be too little, and you squirm under her. She draws back from the kiss to laugh again, and strokes you in earnest. Pleasure blooms from her fingers, and you lose track of your body. Your edges are dissolving into something greater, the only concrete part of you the place where her fingers are taking you apart.

She bites down again, this time just above your collarbone, and everything comes apart.

There are waves of awareness and pleasure, Lady Dimitrescu guiding you through them with leisurely movements of her fingers.

Once the shaking has passed, you collapse onto your pillow. Everything feels very distant, echoes of a real world that has stopped existing.

Lady Dimitrescu presses a kiss to the bloody mark that she left on your shoulder, and shifts you closer to her. When she bends her legs, she barely fits onto the bed, and your legs are draped over her thighs, your head pillowed on her arm.

“Sleep, my sweet,” your Lady whispers, running her thumb over the curve of your hip. “Rest and heal. I will be here when you wake.”

You have no choice but to obey, darkness dragging you downwards. The last thing you are aware of is the warmth of her embrace.

[darkmulti]

Hey! please don't ruin your mood bcoz of some idiotic hateful anons, I honestly don't understand how can they spread hatred during Christmas season. I had an ask, feel free to do it later on if you are busy now. (NON CON JK, where reader is the wife of his mafia employee, JK is the mafia boss, he sees her during a company party and gets hell bent to get her. So mafia boss JK barges into their house and fucks reader in front of her hubby and then takes her away.)

-> thanks for the reassurance!

-> sorry for any mistakes

-> I do not condone this kind of behaviour. This is purely fictional!

⚠️: NON CON, MURDER

“Will do, Mr. Jeon. I’m gonna head home now. My wife’s waiting for me.”

“Don’t forget we have an event to attend at 8. Don’t be late and bring your wife along so we don’t look suspicious.”

Your husband nodded and left his office to go home to you

Jungkook has met you a couple of times

For him, it was love at first sight

today was the day he was going to get you

He planned everything perfectly

Jungkook knew how much you meant to your husband

Your husband would always talk about you

Not to Jungkook, but to his co-workers/friends

Jungkook would just over hear the great things about you

You were intelligent, playful, loving and kind

Not to mention, you were absolutely gorgeous

He had to avoid looking at you or else he would get a boner after seeing you in a tight dress that hugged your body perfectly

Jungkook needed you in his life

You would make him the happiest man in the world

Call him delusional, but he really thinks that you’re destined to be with him

8pm, at the event

There you were

You were wearing a stunning dress that complimented your skin tone

You looked like an angel that fell from the sky

The only thing that ruined the sight was your husband standing beside you, giving you love eyes and your ring finger occupied

Jungkook swore to himself that he will buy you the best of the best

He will buy you the most expensive and rare engagement ring

As well as wedding ring

He stared at you until you made eye contact with him

He continued staring, not caring anymore

Tonight, you’ll be all his

Your husband pulled you along with him, towards Mr. Jeon

You have to admit

He is a sexy man

His dominant presence makes you feel weak and needy

You noticed some sexual tension between you and him but always reminded yourself that you’re a married women

The sexual tension was probably just an attraction

After all, your husband doesn’t satisfy your sexual needs, yet you love him dearly

Maybe Mr. Jeon would be able to satisfy your sexual needs

However, you didn’t have the heart to cheat on your husband

He loved you endlessly

You couldn’t sleep with his boss

You were so lost in your thoughts you didn’t hear them calling out for you

“Ms. Kim, are you okay?”

“It’s actully Mrs. Kim, Mr. Jeon. Baby, are you okay? Are you not feeling well?”

Jungkook clenched his jaw when your husband corrected him

“Maybe you should take her home. She doesn’t look too well.”

“You’re right Mr. Jeon. I’ll take her home immediately.”

Your husband guided you to his car

You guys came home and your husband helped you change and get into bed

Though you were fine physically, mentally you were feeling like complete shit

You thought about cheating on your husband

Who does that?

“Baby, you should get some rest.”

“Okay, goodnight.”

“Goodnight, love.”

You fell asleep in your husbands arms while Jungkook watched from afar, through the window

His blood was boiling, but he kept his cool

By tomorrow, you will be in his arms!

His team didn’t even try to be quiet

It was two against eight

They would easily win

Plus, your husband wasn’t a fighter, he was more of a reporter and hacker

They broke through the front door and came upstairs where they found you guys awake and panicking

Your husband was covering you with his body but it became less stiff when you both saw it was Mr. Jeon

“Mr. Jeon! You scared us! What is the meaning of this?! You almost gave my wife and I a heart attack.”

“My wife.” Jungkook mumbled, loud enough that you all heard

He was sick of it

“My wife and I a heart attack, my wife is waiting at home for me, it’s actually Mrs. Kim not Ms.” He mimicked

“From now on it’ll be Mrs. Jeon. Tie them down.”

His men grabbed your husband out of the bed and threw him on the floor

They tied him up until he wasn’t able to move

Two guards stood by him while Jungkook walked towards you

“Mr. Jeon let my husband go!”

“Can’t do such a thing. He’s in our way.”

“Who’s way?! He’s in no ones way! I don’t understand!”

You started backing away from him but your back hit the bed frame and he was already near your face

“He’s in the way of us. It’s better if I get rid of him. But before I do, I want to show him one last thing.”

Jungkook pulled you to the edge of the bed where you could see your husband on his knees tied up

He was looking up at you, screaming at Jungkook to let you go

At the same time, he wondered if he had done anything wrong to deserve this

You were wearing a silk top along with silk shorts

It was turning Jungkook on even more

Your hard nipples exposed

Your shorts exposing your ass cheek

He pulled your shorts and panties down

“Let go of me you idiot!” You screamed, fear taking over your whole body

He didn’t listen and rammed into you

You cried out loud and looked at your husband for help but he was looking down avoiding all eye contact

It was understandable though

Who would want to watch their wife go through that?

All you could do was cry and shake

You couldn’t protect yourself

All these men were armed and way stronger than you

“Listen to me, slut! I own you now, not your little hubby. You will be my wife, the mother of my kids! You will be my everything and I will be your everything, understood?”

You nodded your head and sobbed

“Good, now scream my name. Tell your ex hubby who you belong to!”

You didn’t listen at first

It was so humiliating

Your husband was on the floor, crying

“I b-belong to... you, Mr. J-Jeon.”

“LOUDER!” He yelled

“I belong to you! You own me! You’re my everything and I’m your everything! He doesn’t mean anything to me anymore!”

You heard your husband sob which broke your heart into a billion pieces

You never thought you’d be saying those words but in order for the pain to stop you needed to submit to him

“That’s my good girl.” He pulled you onto his lap and started kissing your face and neck, marking you

“Kill him now.”

One of his men pulled out a gun and shot your husband in the head right in front of you

“Now that I think about it. All you guys saw her beautiful body.” In a blink of an eye, Jungkook reached into his pocket and shot all his men

You kept your face in his neck, not wanting to see the bodies

Jungkook put his pants back on and wrapped you in a blanket

He carried you to the car and drove back to his place

No one has heard of you since then

[kuronanox]

Accept MY Love - Zenon Zogratis

(Authors note: First off I really wanted to say thank you to everyone that has stuck around and enjoy my book! I’ve reached 20k! I know it may not be a lot but I’ve enjoyed writing black clover and it’s always nice to have support! And second this is my first time writing Zenon so if he’s a little OC... mind ya business haha)

She was given to him as a toy, his servant, slave. She didn't want to be labeled or cared for it, all she wanted was an escape plan. She was weak, a girl picked off the streets for her looks as she was told.

(Your Name) was sitting hugging her knees staring out of the window. The pale snow falling onto the ground effortlessly. "Women." Zenon says from across the room but she refused to look at him. After a few more minutes he roughly grabs her face and she struggles to pull away. "Don't touch me!" She screams as he quietly loses patience with her.

Zenon strikes her right cheek as she gasp and fell to the floor. The blood spilling from her mouth as she looks up to him in fear. "You monster, just get rid of me already! Kill me if you must!"

"Clean yourself up and lay in bed." He says before walking out.

Sniffling she cleans the wounds and takes a bath, the warm water was welcoming especially since the snow had been falling all day.

Taking the only belonging shes had left which was a few clothing and a personal journal she set it hidden under the bed.

Zenon doesn't say a word as he calms his head a bit.

This women had the nerve to defy him and all he could do was snap her neck to end it all.

"It's time for bed." He tells her as she carefully walks into the bed before he stops her. "This isn't the attire I gave you."

A fear comes across her face as she backs away from him. Zenon roughly tears her clothing off, they fall one by one as she picks up the pieces. "These were all I had left of home." She whispers as he hands her something more revealing to wear.

"You are to obey me."

(Your Name) angrily looks up to Zenon and slaps him across the face. "This gives you a reason to kill me now."

Zenon darkly smiles to himself. Oh how he liked to torture her.

"Bedtime." Is all he says and drags her into the bed next to him.

Zenon happened to walk past her home when he saw her. She was shining in the snow and her beauty was mesmerizing.

Carrying the fire wood for some elderly she was smiling kindly to them. Zenon was surprised how gentle he was feeling. He hated it. Why did this women make this affect on him?

He wanted her... no he needed her. For what? He had yet decided but he got what he wanted.

The way she smiled and effortlessly showed kindness was something he could never do. Zenon wanted that from her. That's when he decided she was going to be his.

Zenon was one to rarely sleep these days, he wasn't known to having a women in his bed unlike his brother. The first few nights she refused to sleep so he had to knock her out. Looking at her reflection from the moon her weight had drop dangerously low. The cold wind blew into the room as she shivered and turned away from him.

His body moved unwilling from his mind as he covered her with more blankets.

Zenon craved love, he didn't know how to describe the feeling. To be cherish or a warmth that was never settled in him. He wanted that affection from her yet everything he asked of her she refused.

Tracing her hair to her shoulders he kissed it softly till he craved her body and bit down harshly.

(Your Name) yelled in pain as he held her body close to his. Removing his teeth from her shoulder the thick blood fell as he licked them away. The look in his eyes scared her. He was enjoying giving her the pain.

"You are tempting women." Zenon lustfully whispers as she throws the covers off and tries to find the closest exit.

"At this point I don't even care how I die."

(Your Name) looks towards the window and back at Zenon. She tries to run out the window to end her misery in this room of his. Zenon wouldn't allow it as he grabs her back knocking her out cold.

That night Zenon dreamed of them as they happily lived together and how she was happy with him. He dreamt that they were making love from the pureness of their hearts. How hot she felt around him and the ecstasy they both felt from the closeness of their bodies.

Until it turned into a nightmare of her blood running thick in his hands as she laid lifeless in his arms. Her cold eyes staring up at him, blaming him for her death. She was trapped.

Zenon wakes up in cold sweat as he looks around to find her sleeping soundlessly again next to him. She was uncharacteristically cuddled up next to his body for warmth.

The next morning there was food laid out for her but no sign of Zenon, this was the best part of the day for her. She was alone and not being watched like a hawk. (Your Name) chows down the food, she was starving. The only time she refused to eat was when he ordered her to.

(Your Name) was curious to why he picked her, his brother Dante had many beautiful women surrounding him. Everytime she hoped he would trash her out already but he refuses each time she brings it up or if Dante tells him his 'toy' was boring.

"There has to be a reason."

The door opens as he walks in and changes out to more comfortable clothes. (Your Name) avoids his eyes staring at her as she clears her throat and set the empty tray out the bedroom.

Walking back to the window seat she watches the snow fall again. There was nothing to do, no fun. Her family was gone and she wouldn't dare try to talk to Zenon like she knew him.

"Are you not happy?" He asks her making his way to the window as she softly laughs and grits her teeth.

With venom in her voice she says "clearly I'm a prisoner and there's nothing to do here."

Zenon gently grabs her head and kisses her neck softly from behind.

"Stop it." She whispers as he lightly sucks on the precious skin.

"What will make you happy."

Her eyes widen as she turns her head to look back at him, he was emotionless. The look of his eyes held no warmth or comfort. It was as if he lived everyday to die.

"I want to leave! I want to go home! I'm sure there's other girls who would rather be in my position!" She raises her voice to Zenon as it slightly cracks from fear.

"She wants to leave me, I can't understand why she is so unhappy? I give her food, shelter and all the attention but she refuses everything!"

Zenon eyes grew dangerously dark as he kicked the chair across the room and dragged her to the bed wrapping his hand around her neck. She protested the whole way.

"Do I not give you everything you need?" He asks in a low voice as she swallows the lump in her throat and he finally loosens the grip around her neck massaging her bruised hickey.

"I don't want everything Zenon." She whispers back with tears falling from her eyes.

He lets go and kisses her tears away as he leaves the room locking it behind him.

(Your Name) finally manages to pull herself together when he left the room, her hands were shaking from the anxiety she got from his close they were. Truthfully she was scared he was going to choke her to death. Even though she wanted him to kill her she didn't have the guts for it.

Zenon was with his other two siblings as they mocked him in his misery.

"I told you to get rid of her, she obviously a nuisance to you." Dante says with a smirk as he shakes his head in disappointment.

"Or she can be my toy and I can torture her till she's crying to just end her life." Vanica suggest with amusement in her voice.

Zenon mentally rolls his eyes at his siblings, he was always the different one from the three.

"Don't tell me she's already begged you to kill her." Dante smiles deviously at Zenon who doesn't usher a word but let his silence speak for itself.

"Ahaha brother you sure are a cruel one!" Vanica says licking her lips before leaving the two behind.

"So what are you going to do? I suggest throwing her out in the snow and let the starving dogs get her."

Zenon gives Dante a icy glare as he makes his leave. Going to his sibling for help was not the brightest idea.

Back in the room (Your Name) was laying in bed and reading a book that Zenon had in his shelfs. It wasn't completely boring, the story she was reading at least but being trapped was driving her crazy. He walks in as she tenses up a bit.

Sitting beside her on the bed she backs away from him slightly.

They stare at each other in silence as she turns towards her book once more.

"You can't leave." He tells her as she covers her face with the book. She wanted to avoid his sorrowful gaze.

"Why me?" She whispers as Zenon lowers the book from her face and traces her facial features.

"You are the most exquisite creature I've ever laid eyes on. I have been enchanted by such beauty. I mean no harm to you but you refuse to accept me."

She looks at him sadly and holds his face.

"I can't give you what you need, I am terrified by you, if I am to be the light of your life it is not a gift but chosen by the heart."

Zenon holds her hand on his face before giving it a light kiss.

"Your fate as been determine, if I let you go my siblings will kill you but if you stay with me here in this room I can give you the ever most love in the world."

(Your Name) eyes fell, the light shining in them were gone. Did she want to be set free but die in the hands of his siblings are be in his company till she accepted his love.

She felt disgusted with herself as she answered him.

"I'll stay with you."

With a shaky voice he pulls her into his embrace as she fought to keep her tears in and he devilishly smiles to himself.

[daddyjackfrost]

i accidentally deleted your request anon😭 but i managed to take a pic before! so, here it is!

prompt 36: “fuck you scared me... don’t you do that ever again!”

prompt 37: “are you afraid to die?”

warnings: angst, talk about death, kinda grim, self indulgent (just a bit! y/n’s thought process) car accident, loss of memory, crying osamu

osamu miya x gn!reader (intended lower case)

in the comfort of the darkness, you sat on your sweater on a hill that overlooked your neighbourhood.

after a long day of school and work, you managed to squeeze some time of solitude for your thoughts.

with your knees pulled to your chest and your chin resting on your crossed arms, you inhaled the sweet scent of freedom.

out here, away from the busy streets and tall buildings, you were free. out here, with only the trees and stars to keep you company, you were content with life.

you heard rustling behind you and shut your eyes, inhaling a long breath before you heard a familiar voice quietly call out to you.

“here,” you whispered.

you didn’t turn, nor did you look up. osamu laid a jacket beside you before sitting down next to you. his arm brushing against yours.

“how’d you know it was me?”

you smiled. it was the same question he asked you every time he received a text from you and met you up on your hill. and every time, you gave him the same answer.

“just a hunch.”

osamu drifted his eyes away from your face to the stars. there wasn’t much of a difference, he thought. the stars were just as captivating as you, you more so. you were just as fascinating as the stars, shining brightly in solitude and the dark.

without making any unnecessary noises, osamu leaned back on his hands, kicking his legs out in front of him.

he needed this break just as much as you did.

in the silence of the night, you and osamu sat together, letting the stress and sorrows of the previous week slip away.

simultaneously, you both leaned back, your heads resting on the soft fresh grass.

you gently shut your eyes, reminiscing in the quiet atmosphere. no one was here to bother you. there were no looming assignments or demeaning parents.

out here, it was just you and the stars.

and osamu.

“are ya afraid to die?”

your eyes flew open, and you turned your head, grass tickling your cheek.

osamu’s dark grey eyes twinkled as he stared into your eyes. you thought about his question. obscure thoughts tangled with apparent ones.

you turned your head, facing the dark sky.

“not really.”

osamu hummed. “why not?”

you lifted your hand, spreading your fingers so each nail connect with a stare.

“because it’s inevitable.”

osamu raised his eyebrow. shifting to his side to face you completely. “care to expand?”

“i’m not afraid to die because the second you’re welcomed into this world, you’re introduced to the concept of death. you know you’re going to die. so you live while you can.”

osamu’s eyes were set on you. you always sounded so old—mature—when you talked like this. like you knew things he couldn’t understand.

fate he couldn’t fathom.

“i’m not afraid to die because i’ve been preparing for it my whole life.”

you turned your head to meet osamu’s curious eyes.

“that’s a bit depressing,” osamu laughs.

you grin at him, your lips pulling into a breathtaking smile. “it is.”

after a few silent moments, you whispered,

“memento mori.”

“what?”

you pretended to squish the stars in between your thumb and index finger like grapes.

“it’s a latin phrase that originated from ancient rome.”

“what does it mean?”

osamu loved your knowledge of random things. he knew an abundance of phrases from different origins because of you.

“remember that you will die.”

“god, y/n,” osamu sighed. “you’re so grim.”

you smiled. “what? it keeps me grounded.” osamu let out a light chuckle.

“no matter what i do, how much money i make, who i marry, i’m not going to live forever. i won’t go down in history unless i do something monumental. i’ll live, i’ll aim for a good life, and then, inevitably, i’ll die. it helps remind me that stress and sadness does eventually come to and end.”

you licked your lips. “are you afraid to die?”

osamu shrugged. “yeah. i am.”

you shifted your weight to your side so you were completely facing him. with your arm bent under your head, you rested your head on your elbow.

“how come?”

osamu shifted his eyes to the ground before meeting yours again.

“i guess i’m afraid of not living my life to the fullest. i wanna be happy. do things that’ll make me smile. i wanna die knowing i lived the best i could.”

you gently smiled at him. “what’s stopping you?”

silence.

osamu stared at you like he didn’t know how to comprehend your question.

what was stopping him?

he was young, talented, and persistent.

a heavy realization fell upon osamu. there was nothing stopping him. he was stopping him.

the only person who stood between his happiness, was himself.

with a goofy smile, osamu turned to face the stars.

“nothing. nothing at all.”

you smiled at him, happy he understood. you gently pushed yourself up, letting out a small yawn. you stretched your arms, sighing when you heard your shoulders quietly crack.

“time to go home.”

osamu let out a whine. “do we have too?”

you stood up, brushing your jeans with your hands. you grabbed your sweater, slipping it on.

“yes, ‘samu.” you narrowed your eyes at his frown. “we have school tomorrow.”

osamu rolled his eyes, but got up anyways. he grabbed his jacket, throwing it over his shoulder.

“let’s go home then.”

you both walked down the hill and into the street, bickering and laughing.

your heart felt so full. this is what you were afraid of losing. this laughter and feeling of content. you weren’t afraid of dying, you were afraid of loosing the feeling of your heart being full forever.

so when you pushed osamu out of the way, and a car came blazing towards you, you didn’t have a moment to think about what was going to happen.

only that you really liked laughing and would miss it.

before the pain took over, you remembered hearing osamu’s loud and panicked voice yell your name. the last thing you saw were his tear-filled grey eyes.

***

the smell of antiseptic, stainless steel, and blood filled your senses and your eyes flew open.

as quickly as you opened your eyes, you squeezed them shut. the bright lights of the hospital room too strong for your weak eyes.

the machines around you buzzed and you groaned. pain had enveloped you completely and you licked your dry lips.

your head was pounding and your memory was hazy. you pulled yourself up, wincing in pain when the iv in your arm moved with you.

you gently opened your eyes, blinking to get used to the bright white light.

your eyes swept across the large hospital room and your frowned.

how did i get here?

your eyes fell on a mop of grey hair and you blinked a few times to clear your vision. your eyes took in the male sitting by your bed, his eyes closed and his lips pulled into a frown.

you tried putting a name to the far familiar face, but you came up empty, and at that thought, you started spluttering, trying to form words.

at the sound of your hoarse breath, the grey-haired man’s eyes flew open and locked on you.

your eyes were locked on the rheumy and heavy-lidded eyes, the taste of familiarity on your tongue but unidentifiable.

“y/n...”

the voice you had heard in your dreams whispered a name you knew was yours.

you licked your cracks lips. “water.”

immediately, the trance the man was in has broken and he sprang up, grabbing a water bottle and handing it to you. you hesitatingly grabbed it, staring at the lid before gently twisting it.

the man stared at you, his eyes burning holes into you. you kept your gaze on your bed, afraid of the pain you felt when you looked at him.

he quickly left the room, yelling an unfamiliar name loudly.

you drank half of the water bottle before twisting the cap back on. you leaned back, wincing. you gingerly brought your hand to your forehead, gasping at the feeling of bandage.

a tall, thin and pale man with light brown hair and round glasses walked into the room. he wore a long white coat and was holding a clipboard. the same man with grey hair and a women of much shorter height with tear-stained cheeks walked in behind him.

the man, whom you assumed was a doctor, walked up to you, keeping a distance. he smiled at you before motioning to the chair beside you.

you nodded, unable to use your words.

“y/n, i’m doctor kim.” he waited before you met his eyes. “do you know where you are?”

you stared at him. he waited patiently until you gently nodded. “the hospital.”

doctor kim smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“that’s right. can you tell me your full name?”

you stared at him, your eyebrows furrowed. you tried remembering, but your head began to hurt profoundly. it was like there was a wall that separated you from your memories.

“it’s okay,” doctor kim whispered. “you must feel disoriented.”

you didn’t nod, just fought the wall. you knew that you had a last name. it was right there, but unaccessible.

after a few painfully silent moments later, you let out a heavy sigh.

“l/n. y/n l/n.”

doctor kim smiled and the women in the corner of the room let out a sob, her hand coming to cover her mouth.

you stared at the women, a wave of familiarity hit you and you frowned. you knew her. so why couldn’t you remember?

“y/n,” you turned your head to face the calm eyes of the doctor. “you were in an accident.”

your frown deepened. “i don’t... remember.”

doctor kim nodded, his eyes glancing at the clipboard before he smiled a faux smile at you.

“you hit your head really hard. it’ll take you a few days to regain all your memories. you remember your name, that’s great process. over the week, your memories should all come back to you.”

you nodded. an accident? why didn’t you remember? and why was the man with grey hair staring at you like that?

doctor kim checked the machines before making his way to the door. he smiled at you and then looked at the women.

“ms. l/n, can you come with me to fill out a few pages?”

your breath hitched. your eyes were locked on familiar ones and you quietly whispered, “mom?”

your mother painfully smiled at you before running out the door behind the doctor. you watched her go with a frowned.

you turned your head to the man who stood in the corner. his posture was rigid and you were sure he hadn’t blinked since he walked in the room. his gaze unwavering.

you shifted your eyes from his, his gaze too intense.

“can i... can i sit?”

you nodded. his voice was intensely familiar. it was the voice you heard in your dreams. the one you had grew attached too.

osamu sat on the chair with hesitation. he was feeling so many things at once. you had been in a week long coma, and osamu hadn’t had a moment of rest since he sat with you in the ambulance.

osamu let out a heavy sigh, bringing his hands to cover his face. you watched him from the corner of your vision. he felt so familiar, so why couldn’t you recall his name?

osamu began to cry, his shoulders shaking.

you turned your head to face him, your lips set into a permanent frown. for some reason unknown to you, your heart hurt at the sight of his tears.

“fuck, y/n,” osamu lifted his head. his eyes brimmed with red. “you scared me.”

you stared at him, unsure of what to do. you didn’t know why you had scared him. but his shoulders shook and his lips trembled, so you stayed quiet.

“don’t you— don’t you do that ever again!”

you just silently watched as the grey-haired man cried and yelled at you. “don’t you ever push me away! don’t you ever try and save me again!”

the room was heavy with silence. the grey haired man sobbed into his hands and the machines buzzed in your head.

you don’t know what compelled you to say this, but you did anyways. it felt right. like the man crying in front of you deserved to hear these words.

“i won’t. i’m sorry.”

at the sound of your voice, his crying grew quieter and after a few moments, he wiped his tears, his bloodshot eyes staring at you.

“promise me.”

you saw the whirlpool of emotions in his grey eyes and although you couldn’t decipher them, you promised anyways.

when he smiled, his cheeks using muscles it hadn’t in a week, you suddenly felt guilty.

you had promised to a stranger.

a stranger who seemed to know you better than you knew yourself.

a stranger who seemed to think you knew him.

i didn’t know what kind of angst you wanted anon, so i kinda went with the flow! also, i was too lazy to add capitals. so. i think it adds to the theme. sure.

also yes. doctor kim from dr. romantic. sue me.

taglist: @h-grangerstudies @elektrosonix @snoozless @ackerpotato @asterroidd @rinrinniesstuff @bokuatsubro @literaleftist @howcanyoubreathewithnozaire @addicedtoeverythinganime @felixsamour @megumeee @aghashiii @fail-big @kailleis-sunshine

requests are closed.

hana’s author note.

[justatidalwaveoffeelings]

Ok, so I don't write. I have never written a fanfic. This doesn't have a name and it's probably poorly written. It's Rachel's point of view around the time of Cammie's second kidnapping attempt. I was bored and I had this idea stuck in my head so here it is. I debate not even posting it but what the hey🤷🏼‍♀️

@averagejoesolomon you totally got me hooked on the Rachel only calls Matt, Matthew. So all the credit to you on that one!

This whole thing is basically read at your own risk. Haha

Just like that, what she had left of her world was crumbling. It happened so quickly. Rachel hadn't seen what had happened. She just knew that one moment she had been talking to Cynthia McHenry and the next she felt her instincts as an operative hit her like a swift punch to the gut.

Something was wrong. She looked around the ballroom looking for Cammie but she didn't see her. She didn't see any of her freinds or even that Goode boy. Never one to be dissuaded from her mission, she  decided to look for Abby. She at least she might know where her neice was.

As much as her sister annoyed her, she was happy to have her back in her life. However temporary it might be. She was aware how an operative's life gets crazy. She knew her sister was dedicated but she didn't know how far they would be pulled apart when she stepped out of the field after Matthew's passing. They had just recently talked about why there hadn't been much contact between the two of them in recent years. Why Abby had walked farther away from Rachel and Cammie and deeper into her various covers. Rachel knew the guilt the came with losing Matthew. The countless nights that kept her up thinking about what might have happened if she told if him to stay home. If she had pulled the "wife card" and asked him not to keep secrets. She knew that Abby had been hurt. Rachel had never lived through anything harder. It didn't surprise her that everyone else who also loved him felt the same. When he died there was a very real whole in each of their hearts. She had suspected Abby just didn't know how to miss Matthew with her. After all, her sister had never been one to grieve in front of others. Rachel hadn't know just how deep routed her sister's guilt and regret had dragged her. Rachel regretted not going to get her baby sister back sooner after Matthew's passing but she hadn't wanted to press Abby too hard in a time of grief for both of them.

Now, if only she could FIND HER.  Her sister always had a knack for being where she wasn't supposed be. So, if Rachel could think if the most inconvenient spot for someone to be she might find her.

When she had finished looking around the ballroom the hair on the back of her neck started to stand on end. She felt a cold sweat start. Her blouse was too tight. She pulled at her collar and silently chastised herself being so obviously uncomfortable. Rachel wanted to tell her instincts to shut up, that nothing was wrong. She knew better though, something was off.

She felt eyes. She pretended to check her make-up in a small compact while checking behind her. She locked on a familiar pair of green eyes staring back at her. Of course he was there. She had just checked the whole room and hadn't spotted him once. If Joe was about to poke fun about her being off now was not the time. When she turned to face him she realized that he wore an expression just as grim as her own.

"You got the same sick feeling in your gut?"

Before she could respond something seemed to dawn on Joe.

"Where's Cammie, Rachel?"

"I don't know. I've been looking for her, or her roommates. Even Abby."

"Zach". Joe mumbled the boy's name. "He's probably with her, right? Did you see them slip out?"

"No, well maybe, but if I knew that I wouldn't be so gosh darn worried now would I, Joseph?!" She hadn't meant to snap but she was feeling worse by the second. Now her instincts seemed to be at work on her stomach.

When the shot went off they didn't question where it had come from. They didn't need to wait for some sort of command. Old habits did truly die hard.  They were across the ballroom in seconds. Not drawing the attention of a single onlooker. They slipped out the back door into a dark ally. The Circle. They were there. Beside her Joe started to speak into thier comms unit. There was a big problem. Rachel looked for Cammie. She was being snagged back down the ally, toward the safety of the door by Zach. Neirher of them was bleeding. She was able to breath agian. The bullet could have been a warning shot. It didn't feel that way though. Where did it land?

She brought herself back to the scene. They were after her daughter and she had to protect her daughter. The kids were fighting like operatives. That was something the headmistress in her couldn't have missed and was quietly proud of. Now only if they could all get out of it. Other gallagher girls rushed out beside her, ready for the fight, ready to protect Cammie.

The second that Rachel could she ran at Cam. Yelling Cammie's name she threw herself against her daughter, deeper into the shadows of other gallagher girls. Farther into safety. Only after the immediate securing of Cammie did Rachel realize that people were still screaming. It was Macey standing over.....

Abby. Abby. Abigail. She knew Cammie was secured. Joe would help make sure of it. She needed to get to her sister. She needed to help her sister. She was bleeding from the shoulder, there was so much blood pooling beneath her. Rachel couldn't breathe. She couldn't catch her breathe. Rachel had always been cool under fire; a natural operative. This felt so different. The operative in her was mad for missing the fight. For not getting there in time. The mother in her was scared and hurting for her daughter. The sister in her felt cheated and so very crushed. She couldn't lose Abby on top of everything else. Her heart beat to one terrible pulse-  She was not ready to lose anymore family. She dropped to her knees beside her sister. She didn't know if she had told Macey to go back to her roommates but she got up and walked away. Rachel pressed some leather jacket into her sister's wound. She didn't realize that she was crying until she saw her own tears falling on Abby's face. Rachel was screaming. She really. couldn't. breath. She heard screaming and crying in the background. Cammie. She couldn't take this or rather she didn't want to. Her sister way dying in front of her and her daughter was being emotionally tormented. She debating getting up, but she couldn't stop crying. She didn't want Cammie to see her so emotionally distraught and she couldn't bring herself to her feet. Cammie would have to be strong.

Joe was on the seeminly knew what she was thinking because instead of coming toward Abby he commanded the women around Cammie. Keeping her safe. Cammie's sobbing became softer. Rachel's didn't.

She didn't get up when the paramedic team arrived. She wasn't going to leave Abby. She couldn't lose her. She didn't feel like a good operative in control. She felt like a big sister, weak from all that crying. She felt Joe behind her. Pulling her up from her knees. Trying to tell her to let go of Abby's hand. She forced Joe to let go of her arms. Desperate to be the one who fixed it. To do something, anything. All she could do was tell the medic what she saw, and tell Abby that she was going to be ok.

When she turned back around he was there. Teary but not crying yet.

"She's strong. She'll pull through". He tried to reassure her but his voice shook. His hand on her arm felt unsteady. Joe never cried. It was going to be a long night. She had to keep busy. She went to check on her daughter. She couldn't lose any more of her family. 

Rachel saw the footage. She knew in that it all happened in a few minutes. It felt like this night would never end. She watched that security footage obsessively outside of her office, sitting on the corridor floor with her head on the wall, right underneath Gilligan's sword. Cavan's sword. Maybe Abby was right. They should have thrown it in the lake. Her daughter was asleep inside her office, away from danger for now. Abby was in surgery. Abby might of died. Abby could still die. Every time she let herself linger on that fact she felt like crying all over again. So, she didn't let herself think of it. She watched the security clip again waiting and watching for a clue. Something. She couldn't truly focus on it though. She was too tired or emotionally distraught. It didn't matter the reason, she knew that a truly great operative had to know when to wave her white flag. In that moment she didn't even feel a little guilty about turning off the video.

Joe stepped out of her office. She did a double take, the last time she had seen him look that way was the night he told her about Matthew. He had been crying. Joe Solomon does not cry. There he was though. He face was streaked eith tears and his shoulders shook slightly. She braced herself for the worse but he just stood there. He looked awful. She moved forward to give him a hug. She couldn't help herself, she started crying again too. Rachel hated to cry in front of anyone but she figured that this secret was safe with him, just like any of the other she had shared with him.  She was thankful that she had a freind in him. Thankful that someone else loved Cammie and was willing to fight for her. 

After a moment they separated and sat down on the corridor floors.

"I'm so sorry Rachel. I'm so so sorry."

"For what?"

"For everything."

"Joe. After everything that's happened tonight, we are not going over this again..  Its not your fault". Joe started to cry again. Rachel hadn't seen Joe cry so much. She couldn't resist asking him

"What?"

He looked at her pitifully. "You don't know whats my fault, belive me. I.... I think you should think it's my fault."

She wasn't suprised that he was saying these things. She knew of course that he felt guilty. Matt went on the mission he was supposed to. She just wished that he didn't get so hung up on it.

He continued "This never would have happened if Matt were here. He would have taken care of it, you know?"

Of course she didn't know that to be true but she had felt it as well. She didn't want to dwell on what it could have been so she told him that they didn't know that. That he couldn't control who the director sent on that mission. The circle might have come after Cammie even if Matt was alive. Matthew was just a human being, who made mistakes. They didn't know if Matthew being alive would change everything. Joe didnt seem convinced though and Rachel couldn't blame him. It was well worn territory in a familiar conversation. They didnt truly fight, but when it came to blame about Matthews death they didn't exactly see eye to eye. Rachel thought about Matt. It struck her though that as bad as it was at times it could also be worse. Rachel thought about losing Cammie or Abby or even Joe and shuddered. She didn't want to lose anymore family.

She tried to reassure him

"Hey, it will be ok. We will take care of it together ok? We'll all take care of one another. We will do the best we can. Just promise me we will try. Ok?"

Joe had stopped crying but his attention seemed to be drifting.

"I'll try...ok?" It sounded so defeated. Rachel didn't want to press him further. Everyone had already had such a rough night. She let the conversation go until he quipped.

"I feel like I should be telling you these things."

They couldn't help each giving a small laugh

They sat there. They waited for a doctor to come tell them that Abby would make it. They sat and waited for Cammie to wake up. Theorized ways to keep her out of harms way. They talked about surviving. All of them. Together.

Rachel rested in knowing that at least for that day. She wasn't losing any more family. 

[ererokii]

Repudium || Shouto Todoroki & Katsuki Bakugou

Pro Hero Shouto Todoroki x Fem! Reader x Pro Hero Katuski Bakugou

Repudium means rejection in Latin.

Warnings: angst, cursing, Todoroki is a douchebag once again, mwah katsuki is a king

Word Count: 10,734

Synopsis: Shouto leaves your heart in pieces and expects you to come back to him, but doesn’t realize someone is mending it back together. 

Taglist (message to be added): @shoutodoki @shoutosteakettle @miinaashido @saltie @fryingpanitachi @kingtamakimurder @sugacookiies @pixxiesdust @sacro---sainte

➺: Note: This is for @bnhabookclub​‘s bingo event! The prompt is Pain Comfort. You asked, so now you shall receive, this is part two of Once More. I suggest you read that first before reading this. Thank you Zeze, Mar, and Gabs for betaing <3

Bingo Masterlist

“I thought you were changing. You don’t care about anyone. You rather see those around you to die than save them. How can you call yourself a hero if you can’t even feel for the public? You are the worst hero ever.” 

Those words replayed like a song worth listening, over and over again. Your mouth that could sing dozens of symphonies sang a song that could curse a man for the rest of his life. Words of hatred and malice drowned Shouto to the pits of the earth, each syllable leaving your mouth another pierce to his heart. The twinkle in your eyes that could outshine any of the stars in the night sky were dimmed to the lowest as a waterfall of tears cascaded down your face. 

The look on your face could have brought anyone to their knees to beg for forgiveness, stuttering nonsense that was coherent only in their head. He could see it in your expressions. The way your bottom lip quivered as you listened to the poison of his words. Your smaller hands clenched and unclenched by your sides, your body shaking with each blow. Your head shook with nothing but denial as you tried to shrug his words off. You couldn’t. 

The grip you held his shirt with was full of pure disappointment, hurt, and dishonesty. He heard nothing in the moment, his cerulean and grey irises staring at the movement of your mouth, watching it open and close with each sentence you spoke. Your lips were curved down as you continued to yell at him. He suddenly felt light in your grasp. You had every right to tell him how you felt. He deserved your words. 

He felt even lower than dirt. The steel door blocking him from your life grew thicker and thicker, leaving him vulnerable and isolated. He used to be untouchable. He would stand on his throne, watching as everyone slowly sank lower and lower. A surge of pride and power would fill his body as he watched those struggle to get to his point in life. Until you came, and sent one kick to his throne, making him fall right through as he desperately tried to sit on top once again. 

You were a tide that kept washing him away. You caught him by surprise. Your twisted ways made him open up in ways he didn’t realize until it was too late. 

The moon illuminated a path of soft light through the curtains in the pitch-black room. The modernized clock resting on Shouto’s bedside table read 5:37 AM. His orbs trained on the time, watching every second change with him. The red digitized numbers are slow to switch.

“Get the fuck away from me.”

His long fingers ran through his hair slowly, lowering his head to look down in his lap as his fingers scratched the back of his head, nails adding a slight sting. A small sigh of distress left him as he stretched his arms above his head, feeling the joints of his elbows crack with the movement. 

It’s only been three weeks since his pride took over his brain. Whenever he tried to close his eyes, all he could see was you. 

Every day, he would be bombarded with news headlines about how amazing and heroic he was the night before. It was almost as if it was mocking him, reminding him of how much of a horrible person he was. Yet, he couldn’t wipe away that smirk that made its way onto his face when he noticed more people speaking about him. 

Big news broadcasting stations constantly asked for him to make an appearance on their shows, to which he happily obliged. Nothing made him more satisfied than being on the big screen for everyone to see. The shining star of the show making an entry. It pleased him. 

He mindlessly scrolled through his twitter, noticing some merchandise links and useless tweets from his PR Team. Dozens of notifications flooded his timeline, fans pinging him for meetups, random DMs from his followers or getting nasty tweets—which he didn’t appreciate, but it was the internet, after all. 

A red dot caught his attention from his DMs. Curiosity got the best of him as he clicked it, noticing none other than Ground Zero’s profile at the top. 

Bakugou: So are we on for that stupid patrol or what? You never responded back asshole. 

Oh, that. 

Shouto groaned softly, completely forgetting that he had a patrol with Bakugou later today. He clicked the message, fingers immediately typing a response out. 

Shouto: Yeah sure. Just meet at my agency at 2 PM.

Bakugou: Don’t tell me what to do bastard. 

“Well that settles that,” he muttered, tossing his phone somewhere on his bed, not really caring where it landed. His back collided with the silk sheets, his body relaxing upon contact. His hand reached out to the spot beside him, slowly running his hand up and down on the empty space as if he was looking for something, or maybe someone. 

His fingers curled around the material of his sheets, an iron grip at hand. He glanced over, expecting to be met with a pair of eyes or a back turned to him. Instead, he found nothing but the soft light produced by the moon. It peeked through his curtains, a small patch of light resting beside his relaxed body as if it was mocking him for his actions. His eyes gazed on the spot, noticing it was the area where you once laid. He growled quietly, grabbing one of his pillows, chucking it towards the curtains in anger. 

Shouto watched the pillow collide and fall on the floor. His lips parted slightly as small puffs of air left his mouth. “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” he muttered, running his hands over his face as he kept repeating the word. His hands hit his thighs with a slap, his nails digging into the skin and leaving crescent shape indents. “What the fuck am I even doing?” he questioned aloud. 

“Here I am, in the middle of the night, letting my emotions get the best of me. What kind of crap is that?” He got off his bed, walking over to his dresser. He opened the top two drawers and pulled extra clothes out, deciding that a shower was the best course of action. 

When he got in the shower, he closed his eyes as the beads of warm water hit his face and streamed down his body to the drain. His tufts of hair were plastered onto his face like glue. The water jet seemed to be on its best setting for his needs as he stood there, collecting his thoughts. 

He placed his hands against the tiled walls of the shower, back muscles flexing as he lowered his head to look downward at the shower drain, watching the water gather around and go down the hole. His long hair at the top covered his eyes, the water trailing down his nose as the droplets hit the bottom of the tub. 

“Fuck. What the hell is wrong with me?” he groaned, standing up straight as he slicked his hair back. 

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

You hated it. You hated how weak you became in an instant. In a snap, everything went downhill. You weren’t able to smile as bright as you did before. You hated how he was able to get under your skin and become the only thing you could think about. He was a parasite to you. You despised him, yet he somehow came back to annoy the hell out of you. 

“Oh? Is it not? How much longer are you going to deny it? When are you going to learn Y/N? I’m Shouto! One or if not the greatest hero out there! I always get what I want. You were nothing but a stepping stool.”

Your eyes widened as you misplaced your foot, tripping over the ledge of your car. You quickly grabbed a hold of the handle, keeping yourself upright. You felt your cheeks swell in embarrassment as you quickly regained your composure, clearing your throat. Shutting the car door shut, you looked up to the powerful building that was the viewpoint in all of Japan. 

Shouto’s Agency. 

Just the mere thought of seeing him made you grit your teeth in anger. Your blood boiled at the fact that you had to step a single foot into that forsaken place, and even had to share the same air as him. 

The soles of your shoes hit against the cement as you walked around your car, opening the other side to stare at the brown box full of objects that had no use to you. This box was filled with Shouto’s things that he left at your place and the daycare. You didn’t feel like burning them, so giving them back would suffice. Holding the object in your arms weighed more than it had to. 

You bumped your hip against the door to shut it, and felt no use in locking it. A small sigh left your lips as you walked to the entryway. Each step felt heavy, like the earth could swallow you whole. Your pulse was beating like crazy, at any moment you wouldn’t be surprised if your heart jumped out from your mouth. 

You stopped your movements in front of the doors, watching them slide open before continuing inside. Upon entering, you were hit with the smell of new furniture—which was just the recently cleaned objects and cold air from the ceiling fans. The room was dimly lit, relying on the light from the outside. The main foyer had couches and small tables laid out, covering the area. Men and women filled the furniture, reading a book, or talking amongst themselves. 

You noticed that some of the workers were actually some of Shouto’s sidekicks or new interns he once told you about. Even just looking at them made you sick to your stomach.

Clearing your throat, you walked over to the main desk and dropped the box on the counter, watching the employee jump in surprise.

“Uh- Hi yeah, I’m here to drop off some things for Todoroki.”

“For Shouto?” the lady asked and looked up at you. “Hey aren’t you that girl he-”

“Yeah that’s me,” you interrupted her. “I just wanted to give his things back.”

She fixed her glasses and nodded, chewing on her gum as she typed something on her computer. “Alright, I’ll let Todoroki know.”

“Let me know what?”

You froze at the voice, your body stiffening up. Your blood ran cold as you heard footsteps get closer to you from behind until the presence of a body was close. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as a deep laugh filled your eyes. 

“I didn’t expect to see you so soon. Miss me already?”

You growled quietly as you took a step to the side, refusing to face him. Don’t give him the pleasure of seeing you. He doesn’t deserve another glance. He doesn’t deserve anything from you. 

“I know you can hear me sweetheart. Come on, let’s talk.” His voice sent chills through your body. His hand rested on your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

You swiveled around, raising your hand as your palm collided with his cheek. Your vision was blurry as you let out a choked sob, your hand still raised in the air. Your heart was beating out of your chest. The sound caught everyone's attention as they all stared at the commotion. Shouto moved his jaw slightly and rubbed his cheek, wincing slightly. There was now a red imprint on the swollen skin. “Damn, you really know how to slap someone huh?”

“I thought I made my point clear,” you sneered, lowering your hand to rest by your side. “I said I never wanted to talk to you again. I don’t want to see your face again.”

“Well, you came by didn’t you? Must have needed something from me if you decided to show up.”

“I came,” you started, ignoring the lingering stares from the bystanders, “To drop off your things. I could have burned them, but instead I decided to bring them back to you. Trash belongs with other types of trash, doesn’t it?”

The man in front of you laughed softly, shaking his head. Why was he laughing in a moment like this?

“Feisty, huh? Guess that was one of the things I love about you.”

Shouto had the audacity to say that he loved you? Even after all the shit he pulled?

“Oh no you don’t. Don’t you dare fucking say that word.” You wiped your nose with the sleeve of your jacket. “You don’t fucking love anything. No one but yourself. You’re a selfish bastard, how many times do I have to tell you? You are the worst in all of Japan.”

Even hearing those words for the second time in his life, he couldn’t shake the feeling off. Was he hurting? Was he turning upset? 

Deciding enough was enough, you nodded in self-reassurance and turned around, only to collide face-first into a muscular chest. “Hey!”

“Hey? That’s what you say when you bump into someone? Some manners you got.”

You automatically recognized the voice and pulled away as if he had the plague.

Standing in the flesh, Ground Zero stared down at you with his intense vermillion eyes, his arms crossed over his torso, wearing that famous scowl of his. 

“Some manners I got?” you growled and looked up at him. “Why do I have to move for you? You saw me here, didn’t you? Oh just because you’re in the top five, that gives you authority to act like that?”

His eyes widened slightly in shock. “Hey that’s not-”

“You know what? If all heroes are like him,” you yelled, pointing a finger at the bi-colored male behind you. “Then you guys need to stop being heroes! There’s no point in being out there if you don’t care for those in need! What kind of fakes are you guys?!”

Not giving him a chance to respond, you brushed past him, purposely bumping his shoulder with yours. He stumbled slightly, placing his hand on the counter to regain his balance. “What the fuck was that?” he whispered, watching you exit the main foyer.

Shouto sighed dramatically and shook his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “She’s always been like that.”

“Who the fuck is that?”

Shouto quirked an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his torso. “Why do you ask, Ground Zero?”

“I asked because she’s hot. I asked because I’m fucking curious, you bastard!”

The bi-colored male tilted his head slightly in confusion before shrugging, running his fingers through his hair. “That’s Y/L/N Y/N. She works at the local daycare about 20 minutes from here.”

“And how do you know her? What the hell was this shit show that just happened.”

“Oh, that? Don’t worry about it too much. She’ll come back soon.” 

A laugh rumbled in the depths of Shouto’s throat as his finger traced the sensitive skin of his cheek. Bakugou stared at him, unamused. 

“She rocked your shit and you’re saying don’t worry about it? What kind of bullshit answer is that?”

“Sounds to me like someone is scared to be seen with the number one pro hero, but that would be silly huh?” Shouto asked, completely dodging Bakugou’s questions as he checked his hand, front and back.

“Hah?! What did you say?! I’m not afraid of anything! Especially you!! Now quit talking and start fucking moving!” Bakugou shoved a gloved finger in Shouto’s direction before swiveling around. The ash-blond’s footsteps boomed with each step he took. He clenched and unclenched his fingers, his gauntlet hitting his hips as he walked. 

“What kind of bullshit answer is that?” he grumbled, tapping his foot against the cement sidewalk as he waited for the number one hero to come outside. For someone who wanted to patrol, he was sure taking his sweet time. 

“Shall we?” Shouto called from behind, walking past him. His chest was puffed out, his chin raised proudly in the air. A sly smirk was displayed on his face as he glanced at Bakugou from the corner of his eye. “Better get a move on. I would hate for you to fall behind.”

Bakugou gritted his teeth as he followed Shouto from behind. Many people on the streets gasped in astonishment at two of the top five heroes walking together. Children pointed at them from across the street, a toothy grin and shining sparkling eyes trained on them. 

“Look, papa! It’s Ground Zero and Shouto! I want their autograph!”

Shouto’s head perked up at the sound of his name and looked over to the small boy, who was bouncing up and down. Amused by his antics, Shouto walked over to the boy and crouched down to his height. 

A small smile was plastered onto his features as he patted him gently on top of the little boy’s head. “You wanted an autograph?”

The boy’s eyes widened as he nodded furiously, clenching his fists in front of his body. “Y-Yeah! Can you sign my backpack?!”

“Turn around, bud.”

He did as told, almost too fast as he stumbled over his own two feet. The pro hero took the sharpie from his smaller hands. Taking the cap off with his teeth, he kept it enclosed between the pearly whites as he quickly signed the backpack. 

“There. Now it looks even more amazing.”

“T-Thank you, Shouto! G-Ground Zero, can you sign mine?!” he gasped and approached rather quickly, holding the sharpie in his head. 

Bakugou wasn’t one for signings out of the blue, but this was an exception. 

The blonde nodded and took the marker away from him, turning the boy around as he signed near Shouto’s signature, making it a tad bit bigger on purpose. 

“Thank you!” he exclaimed and ran back to his dad, who wasn’t that far away. Both heroes could hear the excitement in his tone as he shoved the backpack into his father’s arms. 

“I thought you never do signings like this. Has the Ground Zero gotten soft?”

Bakugou clicked his tongue in annoyance, refusing to be part of Shouto’s games. “Whatever, idiot. Just keep on walking.”

“Oh, is someone upset?”

“Shut up and stop talking!!”

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

The patrol was nothing out of the ordinary. The two heroes made their roundabouts, no trouble seemed to bother them. The only thing that annoyed Bakugou more than anything was the fact that Shouto couldn’t keep his mouth shut. And paperwork was the worst of all. Shouto kept asking small insignificant questions that drove Katsuki up the wall. 

Finally getting away from the devil himself, Katuski found himself standing in front of his car, his eyes hard and intense as he had his toned arms crossed over his torso. His eyes trained over a building, taking in the colorful delicate patterns of butterflies and kids smiling on the walls. The paint wasn’t chipping off. Instead it looked like it was fresh, maybe too fresh. The newly trimmed hedges that outline the building bloomed with budding roses. The flowers in the white pots loomed over the ground, each dancing tauntingly with the wind that sent small shivers through his hoodie and caused his hair to sway with each breeze. 

Katuski analyzed the area once more before placing his hands behind him on the hood of the car and pushed off, walking towards the door. 

Unlike Shouto Todoroki, Katsuki Bakugou arrived with a calm and open mind. Upon reaching the door, he noticed a hanging pot filled with yellow carnations. The bright color of the petals fluttered as if they were welcoming him. He stared, mesmerized by the color before shaking his head quickly, bringing his hand up to the door. His knuckles met with the door once, twice, and finally a third time before lowering it again. 

Shuffling could be heard from the other side of the door as the knob turned, the wooden surface opening up. 

Katsuki took sight of you, eyeing you up and down before meeting your eyes.

“G-Ground Zero?! W-What are you doing here?! This is so unexpected wow! I’m such a mess, god I’m so sorry! If only I knew you would come I would have at least cleaned myself up!”

“Can you stop rambling and actually let me talk?”

You stopped mid-sentence and shut your mouth, before opening it again. “Yeah uh… why are you here?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“T-To me?” You looked over your shoulder to make sure no one was behind you. No one was; you just couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“Well yeah, who else am I gonna be talking to?”

“I- just you know after I went off on you there… I just didn’t expect you to ya know, come visit. Just caught me by surprise.”

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk about.”

“Oh. Well, we can talk then.”

“Out here? Please,” he scoffed and made his way inside, causing you to press up against the door as he walked past you. In those three seconds, you could smell his natural scent of ash and caramel with a hint of smoky wood. It pleased you. 

You automatically shut the door and followed him. He was sitting down on the couch with his hands behind his head, but with his legs bent, no manspreading. His attitude was drastically different from Shouto’s.

“Well,” you started, sitting across from him as you rubbed your sweaty palms on your thighs. “What did you want to talk about?”

“What happened between you guys.”

“Between who?”

“You and Icy-Hot. I saw you hit him and tried prying answers out of him. Better to get it from the other side than from someone whose head is up their fucking ass.”

“Oh,” you whispered and sunk your teeth on your lower lip, looking away. “That’s personal. Whatever happened between me and him, will stay between me and him. Besides, it wasn’t a big deal anyway.”

“Big deal?! You smack his face and say it’s not a big deal? Damn, what kind of shit answers are those?”

“Realistic answers!” you choked out, feeling your voice crack mid speaking. “They are realistic answers.”

“Real huh?” he whispered before leaning forward, clasping his hands in his lap. “Fine. Let’s be real, okay? You guys slept together huh? And he decided he didn’t want you anymore. Is that what happened? That’s the type of guy he is after all.”

Hearing his words made you realize how shitty you’ve been feeling. He was only in your presence for five minutes or less and he already cracked your mid-life crisis. The quiver in your lip was his answer. 

“So that’s what happened then,” he whispered.

“And what if it did?! It doesn’t matter, like I said! I was his stepping stool! He didn’t care! I was his doormat and I let him walk over me because I was too gullible to notice before! He’s a fucking heartless asshole!” you cried out, hiccuping as you covered your face from him, shielding the somewhat dignity you had left. Your nose was getting stuffed up by the second as you sniffled, letting out another pained sob, the first of many that day. Each day would end like this, you going into a state of confusion and would cry yourself to sleep. It was a continuous cycle of pain that you wanted to end. 

“Everyone thinks of him as this high and mighty person that cares for others, but he doesn’t!” You looked into the hero’s eyes, your own filled with nothing but defeat and pain, the whites of your eyes now turning red from the onslaught of crying. “I hate him! I fucking hate him!” each word had a powerful meaning behind it. “He ruined me! He had me wrapped around his finger and played me like a fiddle!”

Bakugou felt bad for you. You went from someone who told him off hours earlier, to sobbing up a storm and ranting about your feelings. He felt awkward sitting there as you poured out to your heart’s content. His body was tense as he fiddled with the pocket of his black hoodie. Seeing you there hopeless made his heart sting with pain, and he felt like he had to save you, even though he didn’t know you.

To be your hero. The hero you deserve, not Shouto Todoroki. 

He contemplated something before standing up and walked over to you. The couch creaked at the new addition of weight that was put on top. “Look,” he started as his mind went blank. What was he going to say? Hey, it's okay, forget him. He's legit shit anyway. How do you comfort someone when their relationship was a total lie?

Your sobs filled his ears as he sighed softly, rubbing his temple in growing annoyance. “First of all stop crying already!”

The sudden change of tone surprised you as you stared at him with innocent wide eyes. “W-What?”

“I said stop fucking crying. It doesn’t look good on you.”

You let out a hiccup as you wiped your eyes with the pad of your fingers. For some reason, Katsuki thought you looked like the most beautiful person on the planet. Here you were, in raw emotion for some idiot who wasn’t worth your time, yet at the same time you decided to show Katsuki and no one else. It filled him with a sense of peace that you trusted him enough, despite barely knowing him. 

The ceiling fan shined artificial light upon you, somehow making you look ethereal as your tears glistened. Your lips formed in a pout as your bottom lip kept quivering, no matter how many times you tried to control it. The tips of your ears were red, your cheeks joining in on the rosy color. Your makeup was nowhere perfect anymore. Mascara dribbled down your face as it mixed with your tears, black staining your cheeks. 

“Are you done crying yet?”

There was a moment of silence before another whimper left your throat as you shook your head. “N-No!”

Yet again another round of painful sobs wracked through your body. Your head was starting to hurt at the attack to your body. Bakugou inhaled deeply as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, bringing you closer to his chest. He could feel your shaking form as you threw your arms around him, burying your head into the crook of his neck. 

“H-He-”

“Shut up,” he grumbled, his voice rough around the edges, but wasn’t his normal tone. His calloused hand pressed against your back, his fingers slowly running up and down as his thumbs rubbed small circles to calm you down. “He’s a shit person. I get it. But you aren’t going to sit here and cry about him forever, are you?”

The silence was a sign to continue on. 

“He played you. He’s an asshole, but I didn’t know he was this big of a dick. Everyone plays him as Mr. Nice Guy or Mr. Hero. I didn’t know he was this bad,” he muttered, bringing a hand to cradle the back of your head, stroking the skin behind your neck in a soothing manner. “Honestly, fuck him. He doesn’t deserve your time and certainly doesn’t deserve your stupid fucking tears. He still thinks you’re going to go back to him. Why don’t you show him who the bigger person is, hah?”

“He thinks I’m going back to him?” you whispered, your words coming out muffled due to hiding your head from him.

“Yeah. He does. His head is so clouded with stupidity that he thinks he’ll always get what he wants.”

“...he is pretty stupid.”

The rumbling in his chest indicated he found it funny, but true. He pushed you away from his chest, placed his hands on your shoulders, and stared into your tear-filled eyes. “So. What are you going to then, Princess?”

You licked your lips and looked down at your lap, staring at the palms of your hands. “I’m going to... Stop crying over him, m-move on and be the bigger person?”

“Are you asking me? Or are you telling me?”

“I-I’m telling you!”

His lips curved upward slightly as he wrapped his arm around you, bringing you to his chest once more. “Guys like him expect everyone to spoon feed him because of his reputation. And everyone says I’m the worst out of the top five,” he grumbled to himself, running his hand up and down your back. “I’ll take care of you. I promise you that.”

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

A man of his word, Bakugou did as he promised. Since that day he visited you the first time, you stayed in contact. You were wary of course, looking for any red flags that history could possibly repeat itself. 

Unlike Shouto, Katsuki couldn’t come around as much. As he told you before, his hero work was the most important since where his agency was stationed, there was a lot of crime. You respected that, of course. It made you feel happy when he would talk to you on the phone about the amount of citizens he saved and how many villains he took down by himself. The kids, they went wild.

When one of the girls took notice of a gauntlet laying around the room, she screamed in happiness saying that Ground Zero was here, or that you bought a knock-off from online. Of course from the screaming, the pro hero ran inside at top speed, looking for any sign of danger.

“Where is it?!”

“It’s Ground Zero!!”

A flock of children surrounded him as they screamed incoherent words of happiness, jumping up and down as if he was their idol; which he was. 

“How hot can your explosions get?!”

“Do you burn yourself?!”

“Can you fly?!”

“Do you sneeze and they go off?!”

“Hah?!” he yelled and crossed his arms over his torso, looking away. “What kind of fucking questions are those?!”

“Bakugou!” you snapped, walking into view with a bag of something inside. “We talked about using that language in here!”

“What does ‘fucking’ mean?” a little girl asked, tugging on the material of his pants, looking up at him with child innocent eyes. 

His mouth parted but no answer came out. His cream-colored cheeks soon became a soft rosy red as he looked away quickly. “I-”

“I bought mochi!” you said quickly, lifting the bag up and shaking it slightly to grab their attention. At the mention of treats, they all scrambled away from him and stood in front of you with happy grins and eyes. 

“Get in a line. Bakugou, come help me please.”

The ash-blond groaned but walked to you anyway, taking the small bowl from you that held the dough filled with sweet ice cream. He eyes them warily before crouching down to their level and stuck the bowl out for their awaiting grabbing hands. 

“Only one,” he said to a little boy who laughed joyously and placed it back before running to his friend, comparing the flavors they had. 

“And one for me,” you teased, taking one from him. Bakugou clicked his tongue in annoyance and placed the bowl back on the small table. “I don’t know how you can eat those. They seem too sweet. Spicy is where it’s at.”

“Well I’m not going to burn a bunch of six-year-olds’ tongues either, Bakugou!” you huffed and took a bite out of the dough, the taste of the sweet ice cream filled your tastebuds. “Come on try some!” you lifted the sweet to his mouth, urging him to bite it. 

“Hah?! That’s bad for you!”

“Come on, Katsuki. Are you afraid of a little sweet? Never took you for the scared type.” You grinned. His heart fluttered at the sound of his name leaving your lips. He growled and snatched the green treat from you.

“‘M’not scared!” he yelled and eyed the delicious treat before taking a bite out of it. His eyes widened slightly from their original state and chewed slowly. He looked away from you and swallowed. “Not bad, still tastes like shit.”

A happy smile graced your features at his change of heart over something as small as this. “So will you eat the rest of it with me?”

“I guess. Only if you wipe that stupid dopey smile off your face.”

A cry of pain distracted you from your reverie as you turned quickly to find the source of pain. 

A group of kids was surrounding one young girl who had a hand covering her eye. 

“Himarie, sweetie what happened?” You asked the small girl, kneeling beside her as your hand hesitantly reached for hers that shielded her eye. 

“Fire!”

“Fire? Honey let me see.”

“I’ll hurt you!”

“No you won’t. Come on, let me see.” you encouraged her softly, wrapping your hand around her smaller wrist and lowered it slowly. 

Fire shot out from her eye as soon as her hand was lowered. She cried in pain and covered it again, whimpering softly. 

The rug caught on fire as you shrieked, moving the kids out of the way. “K-Katsuki!”

“Got it,” the male voiced out, immediately putting out the fire with the fire extinguisher, his tongue peeking out in concentration. He let out a huff and lowered the hose. “Looks like someone got their quirk. That’s a nice one if I do say so myself.” He put the red canister down and walked over to where you and Himarie stood. 

“Is she going to be okay Miss Y/N?!” 

“Yes, she’s going to be okay. She’s a strong girl, aren’t you honey?” you whispered softly and stroked her brown hair. 

“Let me see,” Bakugou whispered, nudging you away from her gently. “Look at me.”

She shook her head, afraid of hurting him as well. “I’ll burn you!”

“I burn myself on a daily basis, Himarie. I’m used to it. Now let me see.”

The brunette shakily lowered her head, her bottom lip quivering in fear. 

Bakugou analyzed her before bringing a hand to her face, rubbing her cheek softly with his thumb. “You’re scared huh? I remember when I first got my quirk. I was scared. I thought I would blow myself up at one point. But there’s nothing to be afraid of. You’ll learn how to control it soon,” he said to her, his voice soft yet rough at the same time. Each word seemed to roll off his tongue with ease, as if he was made for moments like this. His larger hand patted her head gently.

Himarie continued to stare at him with uncertainty before launching herself onto him, her small arms encircling his neck. “T-Thank you Ground Zero!”

He tensed up before hesitantly wrapping an arm around her, patting her back with a gentle touch. “Of course. That’s what we’re here for anyway, to make sure kids like you are out of harm’s way. Just don’t do anything stupid with that, got it?”

You watched a few steps away, your heart softening at the moment in front of you. In all of his fame, his unruly behavior was something that everyone saw. This moment was intoxicating to you. You wanted to see more of him like this. If only the public knew this was how Bakugou Katsuki was, everyone would be throwing themselves at him. The only difference between him and Shouto, was that Bakugou cares. He did it to save those in need, to be a protector, not for the fame and the money. 

His vermillion orbs met yours as the corner of his lips curled into a smirk, sending a small wink your way. A wave of heat flooded your cheeks as you gave him a small wave in return. The light’s reflection illuminated his eyes, the different colors of his irises shining. It was amazing to see him here. You only wished for one thing: that he was here before Shouto Todoroki. 

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

As time went by, the hot atmosphere turned chilly, and the trees turned to orange and red. Fall approached faster than anything. Months upon months passed by without a second thought. 

The cold air of the autumn wind descends upon you, each needle of the breeze poking through any open outlet through your clothes. You buried your nose in your burgundy scarf, begging for any type of warmth to relieve your shaking body. The vibrant assortments of oranges and red were pleasing to the eye, but getting harder to appreciate as each second passed by. 

Your hands were stuffed in the pocket of your jackets as you kept your head down to shield your eyes from any upcoming harsh wind. The annual fall festival arrived and that was something you wanted to see, with a special someone of course.

“Are you that fucking cold?”

You peered up through your lashes, glancing at the blond who walked beside you with ease. He seemed to be content with just his jacket and scarf. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, his fingers curling and uncurling from the inside.

“Y-y-yes I’m cold!” you spoke through your chattering teeth, bringing your hands up and placing them underneath your armpits, relishing in the warmth from your jacket. Your eyes trained over the different stands full of crafts, food, and beverages. 

“That’s too bad.” you could hear the smugness in his tone as you continued to walk the brick pathway through the festival. “Your teeth look like they could fall out any minute now due to your stupid chattering.”

“Well not everyone is a walking heater, Katsuki,” you chirped, your voice muffled by the fabric of your scarf warming your neck. “If I was, I’d be looking like you.”

“Like me?! What’s that supposed to mean, hah?!”

“Meaning I could wear a jacket and a skirt and not worry about the cold! I said what I said!”

Bakugou growled and tugged you closer by your elbow, no ill intent in his hold. His hand reached under your elbow, his fingers digging into your skin. It was a simple yet meaningful gesture. 

A small smile graces your features as your eyes watch the leaves fall from their respected trees, trails of orange and red filling your vision. The sky was a pink layout with splotches of blue and orange that complimented each other. The clouds floating through the sky effortlessly, the sun saying its slow goodbye before sleeping for the night until the next morning.

“I wish they had more festivals like this.”

“Well if they did, stupid villains would be surrounding this shit place anyway.”

You rolled your eyes in annoyance, leaning your head on his bicep as your fingers curled around his arm. “Uh-huh, sure. Way to be optimistic about it.”

“Just being realistic. Something you should be.”

“Hey!” you pouted, feigning hurt. “I can be realistic!”

Bakugou gave you a side glance before shaking his head. “Don’t fool both of us dumbass.”

You whined and stood on your tiptoes, placing a quick kiss to his cold cheek. “The only one I can fool is you after all.”

A pleased hum left his throat as he laced your fingers together, the warmth radiating from his palm automatically making you fuzzy inside. 

Ever since Shouto left, you felt confused, lost and most importantly, empty. The void in your heart felt that it would never be filled again. Shouto left and took your happiness with him, deciding to leave you a wreck for this own personal pleasure. He was everywhere you looked, paper news, broadcasting, twitter. It was like you couldn’t escape him. Each time you saw a photo of him, he always had the same expression. A smug smirk would grace his features, it was taunting you and you knew it. 

When Bakugou entered your life, it made you realize that you didn’t have to worry about someone like Shouto ruining you again. Bakugou slowly filled the void in your heart, and you were beyond thankful. At first, you didn’t trust him at all. He was in fact in the top five heroes, and was known as the mean one in the public eye. You couldn’t tell if his actions were genuine or just for show to lure you in like a predator. 

“Hey.”

“Huh?” You shook your head, kicking you out of your daze as you looked up at the male. 

“Y-yeah?”

“Why do you look like that?” he asked, but more in a demanding tone.

“This is my face?”

“No, you idiot. You look lost. What’s wrong?”

“Just thinking about before is all, ya know, Shouto,” you muttered the last part, your head lowering in shame.

“Well stop thinking of that icy-hot bastard. I hate the way you get over some stupid guy like him,” he growled, his finger curling under your chin to make you look up at him. “Cause Princess, he’s an idiot for letting someone as beautiful as you go.”

He leaned closer, pressing his lips against yours tenderly. Your hand reached up and cradled his cheek, rubbing the swell with your thumb gently. His arm wrapped around your waist tightens, bringing you closer to his chest. In your moment of love, unbeknownst to you, the sound of a camera went off. 

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His grey and cerulean orbs filled with anger, staring down at the photo that was displayed on his phone, a new headline for the news. 

Ground Zero getting comfy at the Autumn Festival!

Shouto’s fingers curled around his phone, his hand unintentionally getting colder by the minute. He was seething in anger. His shoulders moved with his erratic breathing as he threw his phone across his desk, ignoring the noise of his device hitting the ground. 

A small flame emitted from his hand. He abruptly stood up, gripping the edge of his desk with a vice-like grip, his fingers slowly turning white from the pressure. His fingernails dug into the hardwood, ignoring the pain shooting through his arms. He sunk his teeth into his lower lip as his hands let go of the edges before reaching under and threw his arms up, flipping the wooden desk over in anger. 

The furniture broke on impact as he groaned out in annoyance. Not only were things not going his way, but he also needed to buy a new desk.  

“Just who in the hell does he think he is?” he whispered angrily, running his hand through his hair as he paced back and forth in his office, his footsteps hard against the rug. “Just walking in her life and thinking he can do that? He’s far from right.”

Shouto was no idiot. He was intelligent and knew what happened on the sidelines. Bakugou stayed with you to help out with the daycare. He did the same exact thing as Shouto did, and oh did it piss him off more than anything. In Shouto’s eyes, you were going to come back to him. You might just be acting up, but you’ll return to him.

He quickly glanced at the clock on the wall. It read 4:46 PM. From what he remembered, the daycare should be closing at 5 PM. If he left now, he could probably stop you before you headed home. 

The chiming of his phone knocked him from his cloud of thoughts as he walked over to the shattered screen, the light illuminating on his face.

Midoriya 

“Fuck,” he groaned and reached above his head, his joints cracking with the movement. His finger tapped the green circle as he brought his phone to his ear, sighing softly. “Hello?”

“Hi Todoroki! I just wanted to make sure you knew about tomorrow still!”

“...what’s tomorrow?”

“You forgot already? Figures if you’re so busy! It’s the meet and greet we have with Kacchan tomorrow!”

He choked on his spit as he coughed into his hand in shock. “T-that’s tomorrow?!”

“Yeah! Your PR team didn’t tell you?”

“Uh...” he trailed off, glancing at the mess of his room. Pens and papers were scattered all over the place. “I’m sure they did. Whatever, what time was it at?”

“11 AM!”

“Do I have to go?”

“Of course you have to Todoroki-kun! You’re number one! And number one has to be there, remember?!”

Number one. 

Hearing those words made butterflies flutter in his stomach as his head filled with conceited thoughts. He smirked faintly as he hung his head back, staring at the ceiling. “Yeah. You’re right. I am number one, and I always get what I want.”

“What was that? You cut out at the end.”

“Huh? Nothing, don’t worry about it. I’ll see you in the morning with...him.”

“Oh speaking about Kacchan, did you see the photos? Turns out he was with that girl you were seeing before you broke up!”

He growled into the microphone, his noise being caught by Midoriya’s ears. “I saw. They look terrible together.”

“You think so? I think they look cute together! I’m glad he found someone.”

“Yeah well I’m not,” he snapped and began to pace around the room. “I know she’s playing hard to get. She came to visit me again even after saying to fuck off. That obviously means something. I mean, why wouldn’t she want me? I’m rich, successful and the highest out of everyone. Why would she settle for him?” he spat, his voice dripping with malice and hatred for the blond. 

“Uh, Todoroki? Do you hear how you’re sounding right now?”

“Course I do.”

“Then don’t you think you’re being a bit too...over the top?”

“I’m not. I sound perfectly fine. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have business to take care of.”

“Ahh okay! See you tomorrow Todoroki-kun!”

Without saying goodbye, Shouto hit the red circle and turned his phone off, shoving it into his front pocket. “I guess some things I have to keep working for,” he whispered and walked past the mess he made prior to the phone call, to the door. His hand wrapped around the knob and twisted it, pulling it to open the door. 

“I’m Shouto. I’ll win her back. She’ll realize I’m the one for her, and he’s complete utter shit. I’ll get her back. I’m the best after all.”

An amusing chuckled rumbled through his chest as he made his way down the corridor, on his way to take back what was his first. 

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

Shouto Todoroki would have never thought about this situation in a million years. Yet again, here he was. Arriving at the daycare with a frown upon his face, he exited the vehicle with a gentle push of the driver’s door, the car not moving from the gentle force. He took one glance at the daycare and sighed softly. “It’ll be easy,” he whispered to himself, letting one foot lead in front of the other. As he walked to the entrance, he took notice of the new and improved details. The once peeling paint was newly refurbished, each drawing looking amazing as ever. The hedges surrounded the center like a barrier, protecting them from him. The flowers he ordered were no longer there, which he assumed they died over time or you tossed them out, Instead, they were replaced with lilies and roses, each color displaying just for him. The color orange only reminded him of Katsuki Bakugou, a newfound hatred for him. Each flower moved with the wind as they greeted him.

He walked to the front door with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. Upon reaching it, he slowly lifted a hand that seemed to weigh more than anything in the world. He let out a shaky sigh and let his knuckles hit the door twice. Shouto brought his hand to his mouth and wiped it, his lips dry from nervousness. 

He felt as if years passed by as he stood there, waiting for you or someone to answer. He hoped it was only you, but by the looks of it, another car was parked beside yours, and it definitely wasn’t one of the employees. 

The sweet melody of laughter filled his ears as he stared at the knob moving to open the door. The hinges squeaked and it was pulled open, Shouto keeping his eyes trained forward. 

You opened the door with a laugh, Bakugou bringing up an old memory from his high school years. 

Your smile faltered as it was automatically wiped with your face, a scowl replacing it instead. “What do you want?”

“I want to talk to you.”

“I don’t,” you snapped and went to close the door in his face but he stuck his foot out last second, the only thing keeping you from shutting him out forever. 

“Please. I just want to talk.”

You said nothing in return, slowly opening the door again. You stood in front of the frame, your arms crossed over your torso. “Outside.”

“Princess? Who is at the door?”

Shouto’s ears perked at the sound of Bakugou’s voice as he tried looking over your shoulder before you moved in front of his line of sight. “No one Katsuki! Give me five!” you yelled back, pressing a hand against Shouto’s chest and you pushed him slightly, shutting the door behind you. 

“Princess? He’s here too? So you’re fucking him now?”

“And what if I am? What’s it matter to you, Todoroki? Why do you care now? We aren’t together. You made that quite clear a year ago.”

“I know but, him? Out of all people you went for him?”

“Yeah, I did. Is that a problem for you? Oh wait, I guess it is if we are even having this conversation. Plus I thought you wanted to talk. Not pick on the things you think are wrong with my life.” 

Shouto’s hands twitched by his side, itching to feel your body against his once more. “I-“

“Or is the problem is that you can’t even hold a real conversation without making it about you, huh?”

“That’s not true.”

“Oh, it’s not?” You tilted your head to the side. “Prove it then, right now. What the hell is so important that you have to bug me?” you demanded. You hated how he could just waltz up in here and act like nothing happened. One of the many things you hated about him.

“I’m sorry.”

You choked on air as you stared at him, shocked. “You— you’re what?”

“I said I’m sorry.”

“Y-You’re sorry?”

He nodded quietly, a look of sadness in his eyes. You didn’t believe him one bit. You couldn’t. If he was actually sorry, why did he wait so long? Did he expect you to make the first move? 

“If you are, why did you wait so long?” you whispered softly, the ground becoming your main interest as you kicked at it gently with the tip of your shoe. “Why a year? Why not when I saw you again?”

“...I don’t know. I thought you would have come back to me after what I said. I didn’t think it would get this out of hand. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything I said back then.”

“I don’t believe you Shouto. I’m sorry but I can’t. You caused me so much fucking pain that I—“ you cut yourself off, letting out a shaky breath. “— I couldn’t even trust him. It took me so long to finally trust Katsuki because of you. You ripped my heart and took it with you until you didn’t need me anymore for your selfish desires. You don’t care for me Shouto, you never have.”

“Y/N,” he whispered and took a step forward, halting when he saw you take a step away from him. “Please. I still love you.”

“No you don’t!” you yelled suddenly, clenching your fists as you looked into his eyes. Your vision became glossy with tears, the glistening substance trailing down your face. “You don’t! Stop lying to me! When will you stop lying to people Shouto?! Don’t you see?! We have feelings! We get hurt!” you cried out, pointing a finger in his way. “We aren’t for your personal pleasures!! You used me! You threw me out! And now that I’m finally happy, you want me back?!”

Your bottom lip quivered in pain as you let out a choked sob, bringing a hand to shield it from him. “You aren’t the only human on this planet! Stop pretending that you are! You can’t even see the real message in front of you, can you?!”

Shouto stood there in shock. His mind was moving a thousand miles per hour but nothing left his lips. His body refused to move any closer to your, afraid of a future he didn’t want. He loves you. After all this time, he’s in love with you. He misses your small kisses, your beautiful laugh, your smile that was only for him. He misses seeing you beside him in the awakening morning, your messy hair or tired displays of love. Yet in his own foolishness, he lost you. 

“I always thought I might be bad, now I’m sure that it’s true,” he started off with a whisper, letting his body move on its own. “Cause I think you’re so good, and I’m nothing like you, Y/N.”

“Stop coming towards me.”

He didn’t listen, only advancing forward to you. You sunk your teeth into your lower lip as you placed a hand behind you, feeling the door that was behind you. He bent one leg slightly, looming over you. You lifted a hand up, bringing it down to slap him but he caught it last second, holding both of your wrists in his hand. 

“Look at you go, I just adore you,” he whispered softly, his voice sending chills through your body. His own orbs glossed with tears, sniffling as he rested his forehead against yours. His eyes squeezed shut as his tears cascaded down his face, the substance hitting against your hands. 

“I wish that I knew what makes you think I’m so special,” you whispered meekly, your voice cracking with each word that left your mouth. The wavering in your vocal cords made you upset with yourself. His fingers tighten around your smaller hands, bringing them to his chest. You could feel the steady beat of his heart. 

“I learned how to love like you… and in my own stupidity, I ruined it. Please, all I ask is for one more chance. I’m better than him, ” he opened his eyes, his heterochromia ones staring into your own. His tears flowed effortlessly. 

Here was the man that once said he didn’t need anyone at the top. That he was the one looking over everyone with no one by his side, that no one was worthy of him. The one who couldn’t believe in trust. The one who was the best at everything. The one who got what he always wanted. Here was the man that you fell head over heels for, but got your heart crushed in the process. Leaving you for the dust, you were left. Until someone else came in, slowly picking up the pieces of your broken heart and piecing them back together until you were ready to hand your heart off to him. 

You squirmed in Shouto’s grip until your hands broke free from his grip. “Get off!!” you yelled, pushing him off of you with full force, watching him stumble back and fall on his ass, landing on the soft grass. 

“What part don’t you get anymore?! I said I never wanted to see you again and you want to talk and pull that crap?!”

“That’s not—“

“That’s not what?!” you yelled, your tears of sadness turning into fresh hot tears of anger. “You think you can come walking in here and say ‘Hey I’m super sorry I didn’t mean it! Can we get back together again?!’ Did you honestly think that would work, Shouto?! I don’t love you anymore!! I don’t want you anymore!!”

“Hey, what’s going on?!”

You swiveled around quickly, a sense of relief filing your body at the entrance of an ash blond. Bakugou walked up to you and noticed Shouto on the floor, his fingers digging into the earth. “What the hell is happening?”

“Katsuki,” you whispered and threw yourself at him, burying your head into his chest as your arms encircled his torso. His arms immediately wrapped around your body, bringing you closer into his protection. 

“Why are you here, Icy-Hot?!”

Shouto got up quickly, wiping the dirt from his backside. “I came to talk to Y/N.”

“I don’t want to talk to you anymore!” you yelled, turning around slightly to face him. Your fingers dug into Bakugou’s side, not hard enough to cause any pain. “I want you gone!!”

“I’m not done talking with you yet!”

“She said she doesn’t want you here. Now leave!! I know you’re a fucking asshole but I didn’t know you can’t listen!!” Bakugou yelled, his face slowly turning into a rosy red as his anger levels rose. His grip on your body tightens, his knuckles turning white. 

You cracked Bakugou’s jaw in your face, forcing him to look down at you. Yet, he couldn’t look at you, keeping his eyes trained on the hero in front of him. “Katsuki,” you whispered, gently patting his cheek. “Please look at me.”

The ash-blond reluctantly looked down at you, his nostrils flaring in anger. “I love you,” you said softly, your hand reaching up and brushing some hair out of his face. 

His face softens at your words, feeling his anger slowly fade away. “I love you too.”

You nodded and pulled away from him, inhaling deeply as you walked up to Shouto, your head held high. He stared down at you with nothing but eyes full of defeat and sorrow. A small smile of sadness curved at your lips as you cupped his cheek. He closed his eyes as he leaned into your touch, begging for more of it. 

“Shouto,” you whispered softly, keeping the gap between both of you evident for Katsuki’s observing eyes. “I don’t want to be with you anymore. I’m happy. Can’t you see?” you asked, pulling away from him. “I love Katsuki with all my heart. I want to be with him. What you and I had, that’s long gone. You decided that you didn’t need that, you didn’t bother to care for someone other than yourself. You chose this route, I didn’t. I loved and cared for you. I truly did.”

You took a step back and looked into his awaiting eyes, his heart waiting for the words he longed for, but knew he wasn’t getting them anytime soon. “You chose fame and money over me, I can’t get upset by your decision. All I ask, is that you leave the both of us alone. Please.”

“Y/N, please. I’m sorry for what I did. Please just-”

You shook your head and lifted your hand in the air, cutting him off. “I’m tired of hearing you now. Please, leave already. You’re making it worse by being here. So do us a favor before he comes in and does something he won’t forget.”

Shouto’s heart of stone fell to the base of his body, cracking upon contact and shattering into millions of pieces. This time it was unfixable. The last time he felt this hurt was when he was a mere child, seeing the abuse his mother was put through by his father. He felt lost and alone like no one was by his side. Here was the woman he loved. He thought he had a future with you. But let’s be realistic, after the show he put on a year ago, that dream was long gone. He chose this path, with many regrets. What was he even thinking? He let his pride win over his own humanity. And now he has to pay the price for it.

Without another word to you or Bakugou, he swiveled on his heel and rushed to his car, his hand fishing in his pocket for his keys. He opened the door as quick as he could and got inside, jabbing the keys to start it up. It wasn’t worth it if he couldn’t get back with you. 

You stood under the tree, the sun making its way to take its rest for the day. The gentle rays of orange seep through the leaves, hitting your supple skin that gave you a glow. A small smile of satisfaction graced your features as you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to bathe in the tranquility of this moment. 

You wrapped your arms around your body as you hummed softly, your eyes stinging and tired from your previous crying. 

Arms from behind wrapped around you, bringing you to rest against his chest. Bakugou leaned over slightly, burying his head in the crook of your neck. “What are you thinking about, pretty girl?”

“Mmm, you as always.”

“That’s funny,” he mumbled, nipping the tender skin of your neck before placing a kiss in its place. “What were you really thinking about?”

“You!” You laughed softly, resting your head on top of his. “Am I not allowed to think about my amazing boyfriend?”

A pinch to your side made you squeak in surprise as you tried pulling away from him, but his strong arms kept you in place. “I didn’t say that dumbass,” his gruff voice whispered in your ear as he suddenly lifted you up, holding you in a bridal style carry. Your arms immediately wrapped around his neck.  

“What’s with the over the top affection now?” you teased, kissing his cheek gently, lingering your lips on the warm skin. 

“Damn you always have to question everything I do, don’t you?” he huffed in annoyance as he walked back inside, kicking the door of the daycare center shut. “Can’t just take my answer as it is.”

“Oh but you know I love messing with you, Suki!”

He grumbled at the pet name you’ve given him over the course of your relationship. No matter how many times he said he hated it, deep down he loved hearing it come from you and only you. If anyone found out about it, he wouldn’t be afraid to blast them to hell. 

“Katsuki?”

“What?”

“What do you think about that whole ordeal?”

“Well it was fucking stupid,” he started off, placing you down on the couch beside him as he threw an arm around your shoulder, bringing you to rest your head on his shoulder. “He had no business coming back again, even after you told him you wanted nothing to do with him. He should have known better than to mess with you. Fucking bastard doesn’t know when to stop,” he growled, his hand rubbing up and down your arm.

“Well I don’t think he’ll be bothering me anytime soon,” you looked up at him, smiling. “Especially now. After all, I got a little guard dog.”

“Guard dog?! Is that what you think of me as?!”

“Maybe,” you trailed the last syllable out, grinning before going serious. “But overall… I’m glad I met you. As you know, I was in a dark place before we started dating and, I just want to truly thank you for coming into my life, Katsuki.”

His vermillion eyes trained on your expressions before kissing your forehead. “Dumbass, you don’t have to thank me. After all, that idiot needs a good punch to the face. And I might be the one to do it.”

You rolled your eyes and nestled your head into his chest, breathing in his caramel scent. Before meeting Bakugou Katsuki, you thought you could never trust or find someone that truly loved you and was not using you for their personal gain. You were a broken piece of art and he was the sculptor. Over time he mended the pieces of your shattered heart and formed it into something better than before. Bakugou Katsuki was not only your lover, he was your best friend, your shoulder to cry on. 

But most importantly, he was your hero. 

[wisteriashouse]

stranded.

pairing: rengoku kyoujurou x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 1960

The mission was a success.

Although it is more common for Pillars to work alone to make full use of their manpower, Oyakata-sama had assigned you and Kyoujurou on a joint mission. There was a disturbance in a remote village in the far west, rumored to one of the Twelve Moons devouring people. Luckily, the two of you had managed to subdue and slay it before it could kill and feast on even more victims before proceeding to clear the surrounding forests of any more demons.

However, the both of you had gotten snowed in due to an avalanche blocking off the mountain pass, and hence are to be stranded there for the next three days.

The second you wave off the last villager come to thank you for saving her child, you promptly make your way into your room, slide the door shut and proceed to collapse onto the tatami on the spot. Every bone in your body is aching as if you’ve been run over by a train and all its carriages; you have no idea how Kyoujurou still has the energy to help the villagers bury the rest of the bodies. You had tried to insist on helping as well, but your fellow Pillar had cheerily shooed you off to rest, reassuring you that’d they’d be done in no time.

Rolling over into a more comfortable position, you wince when fresh pain blooms across your shoulder blade and immediately scramble to your knees to take stock of your injury. The adrenaline from the battle earlier must be wearing off, because the moment you try to look over your own shoulder, about ten different muscles howl at you in protest. You groan. 

“That’s just wonderful.”

Shrugging the haori off your shoulders, you study the dark red stain on the fabric contemplatively and consider if this is an injury you can simply shrug off. Common sense and your desire to actually live beyond thirty tells you no, so you sigh and drag yourself to your feet.

You could do with another pair of eyes. 

Stepping out barefoot onto the engawa, you tip toe your way to the room next to yours. The candles aren’t lit, and you briefly wonder if Kyoujurou is still not back or if he’s already retired for the night. While you’re pondering this outside, the door slides open all of a sudden, startling you.

“Kyoujurou! You scared me!” You tell him, one hand over your chest. Your friend smiles at you brightly from the doorway.

“My apologies! I was wondering why you were dawdling about outside instead of entering!” He’s in a slight state of undress, his Flame Pillar haori absent and two buttons on his uniform undone. He must have been in the middle of changing out of his clothes and getting ready for bed. “Do you need something from me?”

“Sorry for disturbing you, I just wanted to know if you made it back safely.” You shake your head, intent on just checking out your injury tomorrow. It’s not like you’ll die overnight, will you? “I’ll leave you to your rest now.”

With a wave you turn to leave, but before you can, Kyoujurou’s voice stops you in your tracks.

“I wish that you would be more forward with me!” Kyoujurou declarers loudly out of the blue, and you whirl around to look at him with wide eyes. He’s smiling at you, hopeful and genuine. “As fellow Pillars, we should help and rely on each other! Furthermore, you’re a precious friend of mine. I’d love to help you out, if you need me!”

Red colors your cheeks, and you glance to the side, embarrassed. “Of course. My apologies.” You mumble, “It’s just been so long that we’ve met that it feels a little awkward. You’re a precious friend to me too, Kyo.”

At your words, Kyoujurou practically radiates happiness in the dim hallway. “That makes me happy to hear! Come on in!” He ushers you inside quickly, sliding the door shut behind you. You take a seat on the floor and make yourself comfortable, watching him move around the room to light the lamps. Soft candlelight springs to life, bathing the room in a dim orange glow, and he turns back to you once he’s done. “What is it that you need?”

“Well, I might have gotten an injury on my back, but I can’t see how severe it is. I need you to help me take a look.” You explain, and his eyes narrow in concern. In a few quick steps he’s by your side, kneeling behind you to examine your injury. 

“Your uniform appears to have been slashed, but I am unable to take a closer look as your clothes are in the way.” Kyoujurou says, and you frown. This is going to be a pain... “Perhaps you should...” His words trail off, suddenly hesitant, and you laugh quietly under your breath. It’s been awhile since you’ve seen him being flustered. “I can call one of the women from the village to help you instead-”

“No need to, it’s late and they’ve had a long night. Besides, I trust you.” You say, a little amused as you reach up to undo the buttons of your top. “Turn away for a bit.”

“Of course!” His voice quavers just so slightly, and you can’t help the soft laughter that escapes you. Rengoku Kyoujurou, Flame Pillar of the Demon Slayer Corps, is endearing cute in your eyes, you think. Pulling off your top and wincing when the dried blood tugs at your injury, you use it to cover your front before calling to him.

“You can look now.”

You hear him shift to face you, and then there’s a little intake of breath as he sees your back. “There’s a cut on your left shoulder blade, about the length of my palm.” He explains seriously as he checks over your injury. “It doesn’t appear to be bleeding very much, but you should get it treated as soon as possible before infection sets in.”

“Ahh, got it. I’ll go to the village tomorrow morning and ask for some medicine.” You turn around to smile at him. “Thanks for your help, Kyoujurou.”

“I have medicine!” Kyoujurou announces enthusiastically before you can so much as think about leaving. “I visited Kochou’s estate before this mission, so I happen to have some ointment from her. I’m sure it’ll make you feel better! Give me a moment.” He rummages through his belongings and pulls out a distinctively lacquered container proudly. “Here it is!”

“Shouldn’t you keep that for something more important, Kyoujurou?” You ask him, worried. He’s headed out for another mission right after this one, after all. “I could always just get patched up at the village tomorrow. It doesn’t hurt much.”

“Nonsense!” Kyoujurou insists. “You are a precious friend, it would not be wasted on you.” When he sees your hesitance, his voice softens slightly. “Please, let me take care of you.”

Cheeks heating up slightly, you nod and turn around to hide your face from his gaze. “If you want to, then go ahead.” You say softly under your breath, and you can feel Kyoujurou’s smile behind you.

Demon Slayers are no stranger to injuries, and Kyoujurou has certainly faced his fair share of them before. He prepares the gauze and disinfectant liquid with practiced movements, raising them to your back with cautious hands. He’s clearly mindful of your injury. 

“This might hurt a little,” he warns you, and you hum in acknowledgement.

“I trust you.” The words leave you easily. Kyoujurou’s fingers are warm against your skin.

When the disinfectant touches your gash, you bite back your wince at the sting, but of course Kyoujurou hears it. “Does it hurt?” He asks, clearly upset at the thought of causing you any pain, but you shake your head.

“No, I’m fine. I honestly didn’t think I was going to get injured, but today’s demon was really quite interesting.” You think aloud as Kyoujurou wipes down the area around your wound carefully. “I can’t believe I let myself get hurt by a Lower Moon. Embarrassing, don’t you think?”

“You’re not weak at all!” Kyoujurou pauses in treating your wound to scold you, and you turn around to see him smiling encouragingly at you. “You sustained it saving a little boy, did you not? It is not something to be embarrassed of!”

You laugh, turning back so that he can tend to your injury. “Thanks, Kyoujurou.”

“It’s not a problem! I simply spoke the truth.” He tells you as his fingers resume work once more, dabbing ointment on your wound. The faint smell of antiseptic tickles your nose. “It’s been a while since I’ve last seen you.” Kyoujurou’s voice is a hint softer than usual. “You’re just as selfless as I remember.”

His words make you smile, a light fluttering in your chest. “I’m glad I got to come on this mission with you too, Kyo. Since you became a Pillar, I rarely get to see you aside from Hashira meetings. Maybe getting snowed in was a blessing in disguise for me.” You laugh a little at your own words.

“I feel the same.” Kyoujurou’s breath dances across the back of your neck as he leans over to reach some of the smaller cuts on your shoulder. Content and safe with him, the exhaustion from today starts to catch up with you and you feel your eyelids getting heavier with each second that passes.

“I’m done.” Kyoujurou announces after a few minutes as he secures the knot on your dressing. “Although the wound is not severe, but it’d be good for you to get it changed daily to prevent infection. You should head back to your room now and rest properly-” Your head tilts forward and Kyoujurou pauses mid-sentence to realise you’ve already fallen asleep.

He briefly wonders if he should wake you, but his hand hovers over your shoulder when he catches sight of your sleeping face. Letting out a soft sigh, he murmurs to himself. “Falling asleep in a man’s room like this, you’re truly are cruel for making me suffer in this way.” 

Instead, he averts his gaze and slips his arms beneath your knees and back, careful to avoid your injury, and carries you to the bedding he’d set out earlier for himself. Gently laying you out on it, he makes sure to cover you with the thick blanket so that you don’t catch a cold, and then brushes the hair out of your eyes with a tender hand as he looks down at you with a pained smile.

“You’re so defenseless around me.” He says softly into the quiet of the room, silent except for the sound of the winter wind outside. “I wonder if it’s because you trust me, or because you don’t see me that way at all...”

With a slightly self deprecating sigh, he makes to get up, intent on heading over to your room to sleep instead. Before he can leave, however, a smaller hand wraps around his wrist, holding him in place.

“Kyo...” Kyoujurou looks down to see you pressing his hand to your cheek, a content smile on your face as you sleep. “Warm...”

His heart stumbles in his chest. Despite the winter chill in the air, Kyoujurou feels unbearably warm.

He settles back onto the ground, back against the wall as he looks at you with a resigned smile. “What am I to do with you, really...” His own eyes slide shut, but his hand remains tightly held in yours throughout the entire night.

The two of you fall asleep together, each dreaming of the other even as the sun begins to rise over the mountaintops.

[scorsoneamelia]

I like the way you write II wanted to ask if you could write a story where there is a shooting and link is shot

thank you so much :’) i like this idea a lot!!

this is gonna be a big one sorry it took me a while to write because it’s heavy lol

yall are gonna hate me for ending this the way i did lol

tw: shooting

         The thing about life is that you never know what to expect, everyday you live life never knowing how the day is going to end. Some like the idea of never knowing, some think it makes life more meaningful while some people sit on the edge full of anxiety because they need to know when their last breath will be. It’s like how some will take a test to tell them if they have the cancer gene, the Alzheimer’s gene, a disease, etc., and some will refuse to know because they’d rather not know than always expect the worst.

         Death is so familiar to Amelia, she’s seen her own father fall to his death right in front of her, even though she might not remember it as well as her brother did, the trauma still impacted her. Rolling over to notice that her boyfriend’s heart was no longer beating and his body was ice cold, her brother getting ripped out of her life too soon; it’s all familiar to her. You’d think this is what she’d be used to, the worst case scenarios but nobody really is ever used to hear the worst news of your life, no matter how familiar it may be.

          They had just been leaving from a dinner with Link’s parents, and although neither have them have spoken or seen much of one another since the afternoon on the beach; since the proposal, it was quiet. The only time they’ve communicated lately is for the sake of their son, who was currently being watched by Meredith. Link told his parents they’d both be there because it was ‘easier’ than explaining the alternative. Dinner was fine, the least amount of awkward it could have been, both of them putting on a smile and an act which was easy for the two of them since they acted like a perfectly happy married couple for her sisters before. This was easy.

          Link parked the car in front of a gas station, a small one along the outskirts of the city because he needed gas and a snack, even though he just ate. Neither of them said much to one another besides, “Be right back.” which came from Link and he was already exiting the vehicle.

            Amelia hadn’t said much to Link directly since he picked her up, she wasn’t sure what the right thing to say was and whatever she wanted to say, he wouldn’t care to listen and she knew that. He was hurt; and he was upset and even though she had her own reasons and feelings, hers weren’t important because Link was hurt.

             Her finger was tapping down onto her contact list to find Meredith’s number, a heads up that they might be a little big longer than expected cause the drive home will be a long one. Her attention was diverted away because there was a loud noise; an explosion sound and there was screams immediately followed after. Civilians were running down the street, people jumping into their cars to speed away, the sound of their rubber tires squealing against the pavement along with screams; terrified screams. A young girl ran out of the gas station, blood soaking her pant leg from the knee down and she was crying, her hands were trembling and she was dialling 911 on her phone.

             The gas station, the realization came and a wave of panic hit her, her heart pounding against her chest and now her hands were shaking. A man was running to the bleeding girls side, putting pressure on her leg while she cried out. Quickly, Amelia pushed open the passenger door and the screams were even louder. “He has a gun!”

             It only took a few moments before Amelia was throwing the gas station door open, knowing damn well that if there really was someone with a gun in there that she’d be risking her life. But there was something that was making her go in there, she wasn’t thinking and her heart was beating so hard in her chest it felt like it was going to pop out, and her hands were shaking and she couldn’t keep them still. Just as she expected, a white man with dark brown hair had the man who worked behind the counter at the gas station at gun point. His finger hovering over the trigger and his knuckles white, the innocent man had his hands raised in the air. The man had a black cotton mask covering his face so you could only see his hazel eyes, a backpack secured to his shoulder.

              There was a chime when Amelia opened the door, attention being drawn to her and immediately her hands were raised into the air, her breath being caught in her throat. “Don’t move, or I shoot.” The guy wasn’t facing her yet, but his eyes were burning into her. This was all too familiar, way too familiar. A man being held at gunpoint that worked at a gas station, her being in the same building and her hands trembling.

               “Amelia,” Link had been hiding behind a corner and he came out to expose himself, the gunman turning his attention to Link and pointing it directly at him, only causing him to raise his hands as well. “Sir, please, don’t do this.”

                Now that the shooter had his back towards the clerk behind the counter and his gun facing Link, he slowly reached for the cellphone to dial all emergency vehicles. Amelia didn’t move, she was frozen in place and her hands were still raised in the air and she was breathing deeply and slowly because she was about to have a panic attack. “One step and I shoot!” The man yelled, his voice was deep and it sent a chill down Amelia’s spine.

                “Link,” Amelia choked out, her voice thick with terror and there were tears trying to escape her eyes. “Link.” She said again, a cry coming out through her throat.

                 “Shut up!” The man yelled even louder, stepping closer to Link, his grip tightening around the gun. “I will shoot every single one of you.” There was no doubt this man would, there was a look in his eyes, a look that would terrify anyone.

                 There was sirens off in the distance, meaning someone had already called because the innocent man behind the counter couldn’t hold the phone still by how much his hands were shaking. The gun man heard the sirens, his eyes looking over at her as if she called them. “This pretty boy your boyfriend?”

                 “Uh,—“ was she supposed to lie in this type of situation? “Yes—, yes he’s my boyfriend.” Her breath was caught in her throat, it felt like she couldn’t breathe, like her throat was closing in on her.

                 “That’s too bad,” the guy laughed. His laugh was evil, the type of evil that made your stomach turn. A group of police cars rolled up at the front of the building, sirens and lights on and police men and women were surrounding the building within seconds. “Fuck!” He was yelling now, a frustrated hand running through his hair and he was bringing the gun down away from Link’s chest. Link thought it was enough time for him to make a run for it, ducking down and trying to make it to the front door.

                There was a ringing in her ears after the gun was drawn and the man’s finger pushed down onto the trigger, the bullet embedding into Link’s rib cage, blood wetting his white coloured shirt. She stopped breathing, it getting stuck at the bottom of her throat and her chest was tight. She could feel her heartbeat throughout her entire body, she could hear it in her ears and her hands wouldn’t stay still. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t breathe and her chest was closing in. Her vision was blurry, black auras surrounding her eyes, and she was lightheaded, so dizzy she might fall over and it felt like her knees were about to buckle.

             The door behind her was thrown open and the chime went off throughout the store, her ears still ringing and she could barely hear anything. “Hands in the air!” The police were inside now, all guns drawn to the suspect. “Drop the gun!”

            She still stood there, losing her balance and grabbing onto one of the counter tops behind her. Link was laying on the ground, blood pouring out of his side and he was coughing, his face scrunched up in pain. His hand was reaching down and covering the injury with his palm, trying to put pressure on his own wound. Amelia couldn’t move, her legs were giving out and her entire body was shaking.

            She stood there for a few more moments, as the gun man tried to escape, running to the back of the store and one police man was talking to the man who worked at the station and another was standing over Link, calling for emergency back-up.

            “Sir,” the police woman was kneeling next to Link, addressing the injury. “Can you hear me? You’re gonna be okay, the ambulance is on their way.” Link was groaning and you could hear his pain.

             “Oh my god,-“ Amelia finally snapped out of it, running over to Link’s side, placing both of her hands on top of his ribcage putting as much pressure on the wound as she could. “Link, oh my god.” She was stumbling over her own words, panic arising.

             “Stay— Stay with me! You’re not dying, stay awake!” She was yelling, completely terrified, you could hear it in her voice and you could hear her crying. “Link, I love you so much, okay? I love you, I’m sorry...” She was in hysterics, you could make an ocean by the amount of tears that were streaming down her face.

            Her hands were covered in blood, and she was continuing to hold pressure. “Stay with me, Link, don’t close your eyes. Don’t-“ she choked on her own years. “Don’t leave me too.”

           Link was coughing even more now, she could see spots of blood in his mouth and his eyes were fluttering shut, so much pain written all over his face. “No, no, no!! No!!” Amelia was yelling even louder now, a police officer having to step in and try and comfort her. “You’re not leaving me too! No! Link! I love you, I love you!”

          “Ma’am,” the police officer said, placing a hand on Amelia’s shoulder. “No! Don’t touch me!” Amelia snapped, one of her hands reaching up to his throat and she could feel a pulse, it was faint and weak but it was there.

         “His pulse is weak, we’re not losing him! I am not letting you guys lose him.” Her hands were moving to the centre of his chest now, and she was doing CPR, because she needed him alive. 

         “I can’t do it without him, I won’t- I won’t survive this.” She wasn’t lying. She will not survive this. She can’t lose another person that she loves, especially to a gunshot.

          The police officer had the audacity to try and pull Amelia off while her bloody hands where pushing down on the middle of his chest, trying her best to keep him alive. “No!” Amelia screamed, using one of her hands quickly to shove the police officer away.

           “No! He’s dying, what are you doing?!” Ignoring the police, she continued giving Link CPR, also ripping her jacket off to put it against his wound. “I’m a doctor, I know what I’m doing.”

           She was sobbing, her entire body taken over with cries and shakes. There was still ringing in her ears and she was trying to slow her breathing so that she wouldn’t have a panic attack. There was so much blood, it was pooling on the floor and his white shirt was almost completely dark red and Amelia’s hands and wrists were coloured. She’s a doctor, a damn surgeon, she should be used to the sight of blood but there was so much. She could hear the sirens off in the distance meaning an ambulance was coming, he might be okay. She hopes he’ll be okay, she’s praying. Link’s eyelashes were slowly opening and then slowly closing, his hand weakly reaching for Amelia’s that was moving up and down on his chest. A weak cough escaped his lungs. “Please-“ She cried out, there was blood on her own shirt now.

            A team of paramedics and a gurney was next to Amelia, and they were taking over and instead of leaving them to do their job, she leaned over and grabbed Link’s face in her hands. “I can’t do this without you, Link, I love you.”

           The paramedics where then lifting him onto a gurney, a mask put over his face while one of the paramedics pumped it, giving him some oxygen. She grabbed his hand, hers shaking in his and his was weak, but his fingers were loosely intertwined with hers. They were rushing him into the back of the ambulance, and she followed, sitting down beside him in the van while paramedics worked to keep him alive.

             “I’m in love with you,” she whispered, tightening her grip on his hand. “Oh my god, I’m in love with you. Please god, I need him to live.” She was praying, begging, she needed him.

             The ambulance was already making their way to the hospital, Grey Sloan being the closest. She pulled his hand up to her cheek and there was still tears spilling out of her face, and her other hand was running through his hair softly. “You’re going to be okay.”

————————

             The doors of the ambulance flew open and the paramedic jumped out, pulling the gurney out with her. “GSW to the chest, pulse is there but it’s weak.” Owen Hunt, head of trauma was the one who was there to treat him, followed by her sister, head of cardio, Maggie Pierce.

              “Oh my god.” Maggie said softly, stopping in her tracks for a brief moment to focus on what she was looking at. Link in a gurney, covered in blood, and Amelia was also covered, stepping down from the ambulance. She was concerned, very worried, and confused why her sister was covered in blood. “What happened?”

             “Crazy gunman,” Amelia’s voice was so soft that Maggie could barely here her. Her eyes were puffy and it was obvious that she hadn’t stopped crying. “There was a robbery at the gas station and he shot him.” She broke down in tears again, falling to the ground. “He shot him, Maggie. I saw it happen, I saw-“

             Maggie kneeled down in front of her while Owen rushed Link inside the hospital to bring him into a trauma room. “Hey,” Maggie whispered. “I’m going to do everything I can to save him.”

            “Please-“ she choked out. “Please make sure he’s okay.”

             While she stood outside the window of the ER room, it felt like the world was moving in slow motion. The doctors working on Link were moving slowly, in her mind, and they were assessing the situation, their stress levels through the roof. Amelia’s hands were still shaking and she was covered in blood, if nobody knew what happened they’d think she was the one who was hurt.

            “He’s crashing!” Maggie yelled, immediately moving to his chest to start compressions. “I need a crash kart!”

             The nurses were running in with a kart with a defibrillator, soon after Maggie reached down for them. “Charge to 300!” She yelled and placed them on both sides of his chest before telling everyone to clear, and then they shocked him.

          “No rhythm, charge to 400.” She places the paddles on each side again before the shocked him once more. “C’mon.”

           “We have a rhythm!” Maggie yelled, placing the paddles back onto the kart. Amelia let out a sigh of relief before Bailey was running over, peering into the trauma room window herself.

            “Oh my god, what happened?” Bailey asked, slightly reaching over and touching Amelia’s shoulder for support, but she was numb. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t speak, the world was moving in slow motion around her. Her mind was all over the place, and she kept feeling dizzy.

           “I have to bring him to surgery.” Maggie said, coming around the corner while pulling the gurney with her. “I’m going to do everything I can do.”

            “I’m coming with you,” Amelia finally spoke, stepping forward and grabbing onto the gurney. Her pulse was still high, and her mind was still fuzzy.

            “You’ll wait in the waiting room like every other family member.” Bailey ordered, which made Amelia’s eyes roll and a huff came out of mouth.

           “Please, Bailey.”

           “It’s the rules, you know that.” And Amelia gave up, because it was the rules. She would have to wait like everybody else, and try to be patient but she felt like she won’t be able to sit still.

            “I’ll give you updates as much as I can.” Maggie brushed her shoulder before they were going through the Authorized Personnel Only sign and she was sliding down the wall. She couldn’t cry anymore, it was like she was out of tears. She sat on the floor, her back pressed against the wall while the blood dried onto her sink. She didn’t want to move, she couldn’t move. The waiting room was too far, she thinks waiting here on the floor is a better idea.

            How can something like this happen again? How can she relive something as traumatic as this? Will she even survive this?

[weaver-z]

Birthmark

A short horror story by B.E.

The women in my family have port-wine birthmarks, but none ever had any as strange as mine. 

Not even my mother, who had one that stretched across her forehead like a bloodshot eye, the pale sclera-white of her skin visible under the glaze of reddish violet. She told me, when I was very young, that my grandmother had one, too, along the back of her head--she, unlike us, had been lucky enough to have one that could be hidden under a bonnet, though her blonde hair still revealed it in the summertime.

“Can I see the ones on the legs?” Thomas asks, chewing the inside of his cheek like a cow chewing its cud. I allow it, even though I am a girl, because Thomas and I are friends, alone in the center of a field of tall summer alfalfa. I can feel his eyes boring into the marks on me in fascination, as he moves around me to see my arms, at the marks on those.

“I like the winter best,” I say, pulling my skirt up. “Pa hates it. But I like it, because I can cover all of ‘em up with my clothes, even the ones on my arms.”

“They’re not so bad,” he says. “They’re not on your face, at least.

“Guess so.”

He sits in front of me in the clear space between the eden-green strands of the grass, looking down at the marks on my legs. They are strange, wobbling lines, not blotches or patches--the lowest two are at my knees, lines that wrap around the joint like the borders of a county. 

There are two more on my upper thighs, though I don’t show Thomas those--he’s still a boy, and even though he looks at my markings with nothing but fascination, I still feel a little kernel of shame rubbing at the walls of my chest. The arms are easier to show to him--there are only two marks, just too low to be covered by my short sleeves, broad and awkward unevenly-stamped lines.

“So you’ve got more? On your back?” Thomas asks, sitting on his haunches, looking at me with intent, dust-brown eyes too large for his face.

“Yes. Almost like a corset,” I say, “like a nice corset, the kind rich ladies wear with their jewels. One on my waist, like a belt. One below my shoulders. Oh, and a line down my back, a kinda wobbly one.”

“Like the laced-up part of the corset,” he says, and I nod, happy that he understands. Most boys who live in these parts wouldn’t. He moves around me, and I sit straight, lifting my long frigid-blonde braid so that he can see the very top of the line that travels down my spine, the source of the splotchy red-and-purple river. 

“You ever wish that you could have them wiped off?” He asks. “I heard that God sometimes grants big miracles if you pray for ‘em enough.”

“Maybe,” I say, doubtful. “I’ve tried it. Pa makes me pray each night, but nothing seems to work.”

“Shame about that. Real shame. Maybe God’s busy with somethin’ else--” he says, and suddenly a gunshot rings out in the distance.

He freezes, pupils dilating like a rabbit that hears a hawk, and I scramble for my boots, forcing them on over the crumbles of mud on my feet. We can both hear Pa, coming through the brush, forcing his way through it with snaps and tears and nearly inarticulate grumbling. Thomas is off like a shot, running almost on all fours as he crouches, and by the time my father reaches me, panting and huddled in the grass, my friend is nothing but a mole-trail disturbing distant strands.

Pa is a tall man--though I inherited his height, I’m only 13, and he towers over me, so broad and heavy that I am thin as grass and summer wind below him. I stand, looking up at him with a look that must look shameful, and he lowers the rifle to point at the earth, face still and steely with malice.

“I told you I didn’t want no boys ‘round,” he says, voice thick, like smoke from a bonfire. “Told you I didn’t want you foolin’ round like a little whore.”

“He didn’t do nothin’,” I say, arms wrapped around my chest. “Honest.”

“Who was it, then? And why didn’t he come see me, an’ ask if he could talk to you?” He takes my arm--not tightly, but with such strength that I couldn’t run if I tried. 

“He and I met while I was out with the chickens. He was on the road going up to town.”

“Sure he was.” Pa shoves my arm away and laughs, the sound like metal clattering to a dirt floor. “Sure, the devil ‘e was. I heard him talkin’ bout your legs, girl. Didn’t hear much, but I heard that. You think you’re the pick of the meat at the market, don’t you?”

“Pa--”

“Don’t talk, pretty girl. Don’t talk, and don’t you ever try and do this again. You’re gonna pray as long as you can tonight. I want your damn tongue to fall out before you stop praying,” and he begins to move, and now the pain comes as I stumble half-backward with him, held in a vise by my arm. 

“Pa, I’m sorry--”

“You ain’t sorry yet, Lu,” he says. He looks back at me, from under the shadow cast beneath his brows by the white sun overhead. “You ain’t sorry, yet.”

---

He makes me pray, that night, for hours and hours, for forgiveness, for something I never did. But the praying he makes me do that night is only meager practice for the praying I do during the winter.

Our chickens die when a coyote pack rolls through in the late days of fall, snarling and barking with a sound like mocking laughter. We salvage what corpses we can, and for a while, we eat well, but not well, because while we dine on fresh meat, the knowledge that something terrible to come hangs over us like the fog of their blood. The cattle start to go soon after, the first to a weak cover over a well (it falls in, it screams for hours), the second to a river, the third to disease, the rest tumbling like the articles like a rotting shelf soon after them. 

When winter comes, we have little, so little, and my father tears into his meager dollars to buy us what we can. I am grateful to him, even as the food dries up, even as he becomes silent, frighteningly silent, staring at me above the candle that lights our dinner-table with a face like a haunting.

I am not allowed to leave the house anymore.

I only cook--clean--mend--read the scraps of old newspaper used to patch the walls of the house as best I can. I make what food he finds for dinner, if he finds any, and I give more to his portion, and he says almost nothing to me except to remind me to stay in the home, to keep house and to keep out of the snowstorms and the paths of wild things. He fixes the roof and sharpens the knives--those are the only tasks he does around the house, besides force me onto my knees beside him to beg God for something for our stomachs.

And it is in cleaning that I find the box.

It is a small box, barely as long as my forearm and as shallow as the length of my hand, and it is under his bed, dislodged from a long stay deep in the shadows beneath his cot by a storm that shook the house.

I pull it slowly from beneath--it is unpainted, made of thin wood that leaves little splinters in the flesh of my thumb-joint. I remove its lid and look inside.

My mother is there, first, as I remember her--thin, short, with a look in her eyes like the hollow of a tree, unexplainably empty. The mark is clearly visible in the photograph, as she stands next to my father, mottled and dim. Neither of them are smiling. They are younger in this photograph--it is blurry, hard to make out.

Beneath that is a scrap of newspaper that I have a hard time understanding for a moment. 

Mrs. Mary J. Letts, 68; Wife and Mother

We regret to announce the death of Mrs. Letts, wife of Mr. Roger Letts and mother to Mabelle Letts, which took place last Thursday due to a tragic accident involving an injury sustained to her head while riding. She is survived by her husband and daughter. 

The paper cuts off there. I don’t recognize the name of Letts, and the paper is old; I continue reading as I find another scrap.

Mrs. Mabelle Dawson, 36; Wife and Mother

We regret to announce the death of Mrs. Dawson, who is survived by her husband, Mr. Arnold Dawson, and her young daughter, Lucy Dawson. Their family has our greatest sympathies. She was killed accidentally as she was cleaning a weapon owned by Mr. Arnold Dawson, who claims deepest regret that

I feel my mouth run dry and my pulse hammer against my skin like stone against a drum. That is my mother’s name--that is my name, too, faint against the paper. I don’t understand why these things are in the box, among other pictures and portraits of my mother, and, unmistakably, my mother’s mother, whose mark is just visible in one small portrait of her, clearly done by an amateur hand. I can imagine how it stretched across the back of her head, branching along her skull--I can see my own mother’s mark, clearly, in the center of her forehead.

I feel cold as the wooden floor under my feet as my eyes trace the border of the mark on her forehead for the first time. 

“Lu?” my father calls, from downstairs. “Lucy? Lu-cy?”

The starburst on her forehead is strangely jagged. Unsteady. The shape that a bullet hole would make, if someone were shot close in the head. An accident while cleaning a gun. A trauma to the back of the skull. I hear a footstep on the stairs, almost hesitant, its weight barely masked by the slowness with which my father places it down.

“Lucy?” he says. “I prayed to God for a miracle, and he told me what we ought to do. I need to see you, now.”

I can’t breathe. My throat is choked by a snare as I throw myself back, scrambling across the floor and away from the box. My skirt flies up--my legs are exposed, the lines on them obvious in their purpose.

Summers ago, I went to the village with Pa, and we went to a stall hung with pig carcasses. There, there was a picture of a sow, her legs and sides and ribs marked with uneven lines where the different cuts of meat came from. Here was the thigh--here was the shank--here was the cut you made along the spine and the stomach.

I hear a slow, low rumble of creaking wood as he stops outside the door.

“Lucy?” he says, his voice more paternal than I have ever heard it, and I begin to cry--begin to pray to anything, anyone that will listen, pray that something else kills me before he enters, and nothing does.

And the door opens--slowly, too slowly, as though I’ve had a nightmare and he’s coming to check on me like a good father should--and he sees me with the box, with the tears flowing down my face, with my chest heaving in great stops and starts.

He takes a step forward. In his hands, he holds a sharpened butcher’s knife.

[whump-town]

Prof of Law Aaron Hotchner

Warning for violence, stabbing, nightmares, an anxiety attack, and drugs (the prescribed kind)

Aaron Hotchner is a retired Federal Persecutor-- just an AU where Hotch is a law professor for fun and angst!!

Bouncing Jack on his hip, Hotch smiles as he stands over Haley’s shoulder. He pulls his hand back from the cake, wincing when Haley smacks his hand away. She’s a perfectionist and having the smear of his finger through this cake is going to heavily disrupt her otherwise perfect spreading. 

“Oh come on,” he pouts, he turns his body so she can see Jack. “We just want a little,” he attempts. Rousing his son, he jogs the boy up a little more in his arms. “Tell her Jack, tell Mommy, say only a little.” Despite being very much daddy’s little boy, Jack smirks and turns his head away. Giggling and babbling nonsense into his father’s shoulder. Wiping his face on Hotch’s shirt. 

Hotch plays along. “See,” he offers, “just like he said. We only want just a little bit.” 

Haley rolls her eyes, smiling at his antics. She reaches around the cake to the mostly empty tub the icing had come in. “Go,” she instructs, handing it to him. “Get out of my kitchen Aaron Hotchner before I beat you with this spoon.” She searches across the counter for the wooden spoon she’d used to keep the green beans on the oven stirred. 

He smiles and kisses her head, avoiding the spoon when she tries to jab at his side with it. 

As he’s walking away, egging Jack on in his triumph of obtaining the icing, there’s a knock at the door. He’s still talking to the baby, so stepping away from the cake she moves so she can see down the hall from the kitchen. To see if he’s getting the door. “Aaron--”

He steps into the hall and winks at her, “I’ve got the door.” He curses softly, pulling his hand away from Jack’s mouth. He’s swiped a finger into the container before coming to the door. Jack mercilessly chumps down on his fingers and regardless of his absent teeth it still hurts. 

“Hey--” 

Hotch lands flat on his back. The world a dark haze and a strange eerily painful chill in his side. Pain like he’s never felt before. Touching his side, he lifts his head off of the floor and stairs in shock at his hand. The dark, thick crimson of his blood. So much blood. 

“Aaron!? Oh my God!”

 Choking, Hotch tries to move. Mouth open and back arching, he kicks out blindly. The pain creating a black haze around his vision. Coughing and turning his head as he wheezes around the obstruction in his airway, his own blood, he can hear more gunshots.  Jack screams, wailing, and sobbing on in distress. There is one final gunshot and the crying stops. The house falls silent. 

“Jack,” he tries to move but his arms won’t hold his weight. “Jack,” he calls again, panic rising. “Come on, buddy,” he cries. “Where--” blinking the blood from his eyes he looks up and into the face of someone he hasn’t seen in a decade. George Foyet. 

Leaning down, Foyet places his foot against Hotch’s throat. He presses down just enough to cut off the rest of his oxygen, smiling when Hotch uselessly tries to push him away. “Remember me, Aaron? Aaron? Aaron! Aaron--”

“Aaron! Easy, easy.”

He’s in bed. His grey t-shirt slick with his sweat and practically glued to his back. He’s safe. Looking around he can slowly start to piece together where he is. Dave’s house. Well, his house too but it’s Dave’s house.

“Woah,” perched on the corner of his bed is David Rossi. As silly as the older man looks in his matching pajama set (from probably the eighties) Hotch can’t spare the breath to do much more than lean into his embrace. “You’re alright,” Dave assures him, rubbing his back and cupping the back of his head. “Just breath for me kid,” Dave keeps Hotch pulled close, glad that he’s not trying to wrangle away just yet.

“Dave?” Hotch can feel himself shaking, his eyes pinched shut. He’s terrified, honestly. The nightmare had felt so real. So much like the real day. George Foyet had come into his home and-- “I need… Jack?” Hotch pulls away just enough to catch his old mentor’s eyes. Waiting to find the truth there. Because he can’t remember. His brain is split. Had he buried his son that day too? Is Jack… Is Jack dead too?

Dave smiles, it’s sad but it’s not mournful. “He’s sleeping in his bed,” Dave promises. “I checked on him before I came in here.”

Hotch can feel the hitch in his chest as he lets out a relieved breath. “He’s okay?” Hotch asks, he needs the clarification.

Dave nods, “perfectly content.” That’s the easy part about being a baby when the world goes to shit. Jack will never know his mother but he’ll also never have to wake, like his father, in cold sweats shaking from nightmares. Terrified and alone.

“Okay,” Hotch pulls back, scooting back in the bed so he can cross his legs and rest his head in his hands.

Watching him with an air of concern Dave sighs. He looks at the clock and shakes his head. It’s four in the morning and there’s no way that Aaron’s going back to sleep now. “You good,” he asks. As much as he’d like to stick around and make sure Hotch gets back to sleep… that’s futile.

For the last few years, they’ve been working on getting Aaron through the night. Whether it’s nightmares or insomnia he can’t seem to get a break.

Hotch nods with his face covered by his hands.

Dave stands and looks back over his shoulder one more time. “Aaron?”

“Hmm?”

“Try and get some more sleep, alright? You can’t afford to lose anymore.”

Hotch doesn’t look up but hums in agreeance. Already he can feel the low throb at the back of his skull. If he starts drinking coffee now maybe he’ll make it through his first few classes without passing out. In the vending machines outside his office, they sell these little bottles of five-hour energy.

He’s a little too old to go chugging those but he’s not going to go canceling his class over a little missed sleep.

It’s been a long time since he even thought about consuming this much coffee.

By six a.m. he’s consumed four cups.

“How long have you been up?”

Hotch blinks sluggishly despite the warm fifth mug of coffee in his hands. “Hmm,” he asks, rubbing at his eyes.

Directing Jack down the hall, hand over the boy’s head like a claw, Dave looks Hotch down. His posture is awful, bent over himself, with dark rings under his eyes. “I asked how many cups of coffee you’ve had but I’m afraid I don’t want the answer.” Pushing Jack along, the boy scurries into the kitchen. Buzzing past his father to make a B line for the milk and cereal.

“Don’t spill the milk,” Hotch mumbles, watching Jack fumble with the carton.

It’s been nearly three years since George Foyet’s attack.

The man was released from prison for “good behavior” as young, white men tend to get off. It seemed as if the two young women he’d killed were brought to justice in the ten years he spent in prison. How easy it must have been for the justice system to see the opportunity in a man like him, while ignoring the ones he’d taken. A misguided youth and a tragic backstory only adding to their empathy.

The atrocities he’d committed were not of his own accord, of course not. It’s always so much easier to blame those young women or perhaps his mother. If those girls had not been out so late at night, if they hadn’t worn skirts and frilly tops then he would have never noticed them to begin with. If his birth mother had loved him more...

None of that matters now.

They considered Geroge Foyet “cured” and released him back into society.

Where his first stop was to a library, where he found the address of the man who put in prison. Federal Prosecutor Aaron Hotchner.

This is the part the dreams never get right. Foyet didn’t have a gun. He had a knife. A single pocket knife that he stole from a junkie in an alley. It had been late and Haley had answered the door. Hotch hadn’t even heard her cry out for him. He’d been wrangling Jack out of the tub, the little boy a mess of squirming limbs and very upset with his father for making him take a bath.

They’d been in Jack’s room when Foyet found them.

He’d had his back turned to the door, shushing the crying baby as best as he could while trying to get a diaper around his kicking legs. The first stab had been so quick… by the third he was on his knees and unable to do anything besides keep falling.

On that floor, George Foyet stabbed him six more times. Jack had screamed and cried the entire time. He’d been too young to understand, not even a full year old, but he knew something wasn’t right.

In the dreams, Foyet always kills Jack too. The harsh, overwhelming sound of silence those little cries silenced. There one moment and gone the very next.

He can’t remember much of what happened.

Foyet had moved to Jack, picking the boy up and shushing him. Hotch had watched, immobilized and too weak to even beg for his son to be spared. So he’d watched, choking on his blood, and slowly losing his battle with consciousness as Foyet settled down in the rocking chair in the corner of the room and rocked his son. Soothed him.

A neighbor would walk by and see Haley laying in the hall. The blood…

Hotch had died on the operating table, a fact that Dave would later inform him of. He can’t remember recovery all that well. Clouded with drugs and grief, he… There was once, he remembers this clearly because it had only been a short time after he’d woken up, they’d brought Jack in. Dave and the nurses had been trying everything to calm him but he wasn’t sleeping or eating. He’d cry and cry and cry until he made himself puke or passed out.

The moment they placed Jack in Hotch’s arms, the baby had stilled. His pained cries dying to whimpers as he looked up at his father.

Hotch had been propped up with pillows. Too weak to even lift his own head but they’d stacked pillows around his sides and arms. He couldn’t fight the exhaustion weighing his body down but he clung to Jack. Waking from his sleep in a panic each time, watching the room’s other occupants in case they might try to take Jack from him.

After all the time he’d been nearly unresponsive to them, if having Jack around would keep his heart rate up and his oxygen intake steadily improving no one was going to complain. Several times he woke to his gown being moved so they could place Jack against him. Skin on skin therapy does wonders on humans of all ages. Recovery had been easier with Jack there. The baby stripped to his diaper and nestled against his chest. Little fingers grasping onto him.

It’s been three years and George Foyet follows him everywhere he goes.

“Professor?”

He makes his own lesson plans. He knows which cases come up when. “Who--” he makes the mistake of looking at the screen and his heart stills in his chest. Swallowing thickly around the obstruction in his throat, he looks down to the floor forcing himself to take in a steadying breath. “Who, um, can explain why this case can’t be dismissed on the grounds of Gamble v United States?”

He doesn’t need to call on a student. There’s only about ten kids in the class and it's a ridiculously easy question.

“It’s two separate accounts,” someone speaks up. “Same thing, sure, same crime even but that’s not how double jeopardy works. Besides, you’d want to look more into United States v Felix. Um--” The hard sound of one of the automatically folding chairs shutting in on itself sounds out through the room. “Sir?”

“Sir, are you okay?”

Hotch grips the edge of the desk tighter, his knuckles whitening under the strain. “I’m--” his knees buckle but he forces his weight to his arms. Squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his teeth. “I’m okay,” he manages.

A student, he can’t tell which one, cautiously approaches his side. “Sir,” he calls. The student, Carter one of his more extroverted and adventurous students, squats down by his side, hand on his back just above his belt. “Not to alarm you,” Carter says, “but I think you’re having an anxiety attack. Do you have any medicine? Is there something we can do?”

Hotch squeezes his eyes shut, trying to work against the tears rapidly falling down his cheek. “My--” he grabs frantically for his tie. The knot against his throat tightening steadily to a noose until he can’t stand it. His hands are too weak to pull the material away but graciously, his useless fingers are pushed aside. Carter undoes the knot quickly and Hotch is suddenly very thankful that Carter’s pompous, cocky agenda brings a tie into his little aesthetic.

“In my office,” Hotch rasps, his hand twisted around his dress shirt. “It’s--” he sinks to the floor, head between his knees. “... a few,” he manages, “in my office.”

Carter turns over his shoulder. “Billy!”

Hotch looks up and watches Billy meagerly rise from where she’s called. Billy, while a great student, is riddled with social anxiety. Despite having taught the young woman all three years he’s been employed at the university she can’t meet his eye when they talk. And she always makes great haste in avoiding him. He’s never bothered to figure out if she’s got issues with authority, a problem with her father, or if she just hates him that much.

Carter turns back to Hotch, surprised by the startlingly vacant look in the man’s eyes. His eyes just watch Billy where she stands anxiously waiting to find out what awful thing she’s going to be asked to do.

“Sir,” Carter shakes Hotch a little. Smiling reassuringly when Hotch’s bloodshot eyes meet his. “I’m going to send Billy to get Professor Prentiss, is that okay? Billy is going to get the professor and we’re going to head to your office, alright?”

Hotch nods.

“Can-Can’t someone else go?”

Carter helps Hotch to his feet, graciously nodding his head to another student who slides under Hotch’s other arm. “No, Billy. Now go.”

Professor Prentiss is a notorious hardass. Her students love her but everyone else is terrified to even cross her path. She’s like a black cat, bound to be bad luck. It did not help Hotch’s already scary demeanor to befriend her. To spot the two of them coming across campus, Emily always professionally dressed in slacks and a dress shirt and Hotch in his standard suit and tie, they’d built a good rapport for being scarily mysterious.

Despite how frequently they could be spotted in the campus café laughing over a cup of coffee. Their human moments always outweigh their harsh ones. In fact, Emily Prentiss has only ever come down on a few students. The ones dumb enough to try and fool her. Hotch has never raised his voice to a student and is surprisingly lenient for a law professor or even just a professor in general.

For goodness sake, Emily stops to talk to the campus cats.

Hotch wears a little beanie with a red knot at the top Professor Garcia made him two Christmas’ ago and spends the spring semester chasing his son around the quad. (Garcia made him the beanie so she could recognize him easier in public. There are way too many tall men in suits around but the red little knot makes him easily detectable)

That’s not to say they’re still not intimidating.

“Pr-Professor Prentiss?”

Turning slowly from her chalkboard, Emily faces the weary voice. First of all, this is a senior advanced level Arabic class so there are only five students present and she knows each and everyone one of them. Well enough to know that whoever just called out her name is not one of her own. Nevermind they never break from Arabic during class time. Under her breath, in Arabic, Emily mumbles, “freshman.”

Yet, the young woman is dressed surprisingly professional.

“What is it,” Emily asks, crossing her arms. She pushes her glasses down her nose, moving the reading frame out of her sight. Looking down the length of her nose, raising an eyebrow at the girl. As if interrupting her class wasn’t bad enough, she’s not trying to waste instruction time on some undergraduate student roaming where she shouldn’t be.

The student steps in a little more, chest heaving, breathless, and looking anywhere but at Emily, stammers her way through an explanation. “Uh,” she wets her lips. “Um, Prof--Professor Hotchner he, um, he was-- he was taking us through, um, a criminal law case and he was…”

The half-amused smirk on Emily’s lips placed there in the humor of what she thought was going to be some silly mistake or a prank from a coworker is wiped away. Penelope has sent mischievous students her way in the past, to knock them down a few pegs or remind them who's in-charge here. Derek’s sent way too many kids over, a whole class once, instead of doing his job. It’s becoming very clear this is not a joke.

Tossing her glasses on her desk, she demands, “where is he?”

The girl takes two steps back, not liking Emily’s shift. “He, um, Carter took him to his office, ma’am. He--”

Emily turns to her students, “class is canceled. I’ll send you a text this afternoon to make up for class.” Then with a nod, takes off up the catwalk, shoes sounding sharply against the tile. “We’ll facetime!” Motioning the girls to follow, “you, with me. Let’s go.”

She sends Dave a text, nothing complex just “Aaron, SOS”.

Hotch’s office is down the same hall as his favorite auditorium to lecture in. She’d bullied him pretty hard upon finding this fact out. It sounded very, very nerdy. And it is. What kind of normal person has a favorite lecture hall? Let alone a favorite room? Just as promised, that’s where he is.

He’s on the floor, stripped of his jacket and his shirt thrown open to reveal his white-shirt. His head is in between his knees and a young man, Carter, Emily presumes, is struggling to open the orange bottle of Valium. People go broke buying the stuff from drug dealers and Hotch will refuse one up until he’s breathless and shaking.

“Get out.”

The boy stops, “what?”

Emily nods her head out the door, “both of you, out.”

They share a look but neither student puts up a fight.

Emily cracks the bottle open with a single twist, pouring a pill out into her hand. The only thing she has around to drink is what looks like either tea or coffee from (nothing him) days ago. He doesn’t use creamer but there’s still probably something toxic in their brewing. “Here,” she kneels down beside him.

He looks up, face broken out in sweat and cheeks flushed, and takes the pill from her palm.

“You okay,” she asks, rubbing his back. She watches her friend carefully, studying him.

He takes a deep breath and holds it, ticking the seconds away in his head. Nodding, he closes his eyes and hangs his head back limply between his knees. He lasts only a moment, eyes flying open she finds nothing but pure terror in his dark eyes.

“Hotch,” she calls, unsure if he’s even here with her right now. “Hotch, calm down. What’s going on?”

He shakes his head, “hard to breathe…” His hand comes to his shirt, gripping the white material tightly. “Can’t-- Can’t get enough… not enough air.”

She nods her head, sounds about right. “You’re okay,” she promises. “You’re completely safe right here with me, okay? We’re in your office and you’ve taken a Valium.”

He nods. Right. His office. He can feel the rough mug and smell the old books.

It’s hot. “Off,” he rasps, tugging harshly on his shirt. “Off. I want it--” Too hot and too tight and all over him and--

“Okay,” Emily stops his frantic movements, his hands tearing at his dress shirt. “Okay,” she grabs his left hand by the wrist, easily pulling the shirt off his shoulder and moving his arm out of the fabric. He’s already calming back down, sinking forward as she works his right arm out.

He’d been trapped. Hot and trapped and his brain isn’t working right.

“That’s better,” Emily whispers. She moves closer to him, sitting between his legs and hesitantly pulls him into a hug. He goes where he’s pulled, letting her guide his head to her shoulder.

He sniffles, unable to stop his tears. “He was there,” he whispers. “I saw him.”

She soothes him but she has no idea who or what he’s talking about it. All she knows is that three years ago Dave dragged Hotch here and had a look around. He’d been a mess then. Hair windswept or maybe just unkept and leaning heavily on a cane while Jack had circled them excitedly. She’d shaken his hand and greeted him because Dave is her friend; he'd introduced Aaron as an old friend. He’d looked haggard and disheveled but that hadn’t bothered Emily too much. He’d intrigued her.

Aaron started in an introductory course that fall. Predictably, Dave had allowed him into their trusted group of friends. He’d been removed, at first. Distant and didn’t speak much. Not that he speaks all that much now but it was so much worse back then. Whatever he’d needed that cane for, whatever had driven him from prosecution, whatever had made him a widower and single father that remained his secret. A part of him so guarded only Dave knew and, as she suspected, he would be the only one to ever know.

“Good Lord,” Dave appears in the doorway, shaking his head at the sight before him. “You look like hell.” He leans against the frame of the door, arms crossed. “You know,” he informs them casually. “The two of you have officially ruined your image around here. How’s anyone going to be afraid of you if they walk past this door and see the two of you cuddling on the floor?”

Emily scoffs but doesn’t move away. She keeps moving her hand up and down his back. His breathing has calmed back down but his heart is still racing. “Shut up,” she grumbles. “At least, my reputation isn't being a sleaze bag.”

Dave sucks his teeth, frowning at her. “I am not a sleaze bag,” he defends. He’s not. His reputation for sleeping with the faculty does preside him but it’s horribly honorable that he stays away from the students. They all know coworkers not upholding that standard.

“You okay,” Emily directs her attention back to Hotch. He squirms out of her hold, shakily forcing his feet back under his body and standing.

“Hey,” Garcia knocks on the door and squeezes in beside Rossi. “Everything okay in here?”

Hotch turns his body away from her, scrubbing his face with hands.

“Yeah,” Emily assures her with a smile. It’s obviously not the truth. Hotch is standing in his white undershirt, dress shirt and suit jacket on the floor. His tie not even on the same half of the room. There’s a pill bottle knocked over on his desk and his hair, from what can be seen from the back, is crazy. “We’re good, Pen.”

Garcia nods her head, skeptically. “Okay,” she smiles, eyeing Hotch. He glances over his shoulder at her and she can see his red rimmed eyes and wet face. It’s okay if he doesn’t trust her with this kind of stuff just yet. She understands. “I’ll see you guys at lunch?”

Hotch nods, “we’ll see you there.” His voice is surprisingly rough but she leaves without comment.

Emily reaches out and squeezes his shoulder. “Why don’t you stay here, alright?” He’s still shaking and looks rather awful. “I’m going to send your class home. Take a nap or something, you look like a train wreck.”

Hotch just hums, lifting his his hands to his face. The feeling of his body is yet to return. His arms don’t even feel connected to his body. Rubbing his hands across his face he can hear Emily and Dave whispering behind him. 

“See you at lunch, Hotch.” Emily says as she steps out of the room. 

Leaving Dave and Hotch. 

“Are you ever going to talk about it?” Dave asks.

Hotch sighs but doesn’t turn to face the man.

“Come on,” Dave sighs. “It’s been years. If you don’t get it out, it’s going to kill you.” 

George Foyet going to kill Aaron. Maybe not today but it’s a matter of time. 

“Not now,” Hotch mumbles, turning his attention to his desk. He brushes the spilled pills into the bottle. Ignoring the careful way Dave regards him. He knows he has to eventually work out these stupid nightmares. It’s one thing to find himself trapped there in that house at night. It’s another when the nightmares work their way into the light. 

“One day then, hmm?”

Hotch freezes, his anxiety sky rockets just thinking about it. They’ll have to institutionalize him first. Drug him up and throw away the key before he finds the words to describe what happened that day. Mentally, he’s not even sure he’s strong enough to think about it for too long. 

Clearing his throat Hotch nods, “right.” He takes a deep breath. Lawyers are blood sucking liars, right? Well, he hopes this once Dave believes his bluff. “One day.”