#they made him such a bad asshole smh | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

farfromstrange · 11 months

Text

Butterfly Effect | Michael Kinsella x Reader

Masterlist

Chapter Six: Bittersweet Symphony

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Barista!Reader (she/her pronouns mentioned)

Summary: What happened with Michael won't let you go and you find yourself researching who he is. The truth shocks you. But trying to forget him is impossible, you realize, and it doesn't take long for a knock on your door to ruin the plans you had made for yourself that particular night. Or, Michael finally finds the guts to ask you for help and takes a step toward you in the process, making your efforts worthwhile.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of canon typical violence, SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI, oral f!receiving, handjob, unprotected p in v, slight choking (?), dirty talk, pet names, slight marking kink, breeding kink (?)

Word Count: 11k (I outdid myself with this one, it’s about half plot, half smut)

A/n: I told you I'd make up for everything ;) Also, why did I make myself sweat with this one? And the gif? I just made myself horny smh…

Read All Other Parts Here...

Days turn into two weeks without hearing from him. Part of you expected him to call even after he broke your heart, but with every passing day, the hope swindled and a sense of anger settled in that still burns brighter than the sun.

You’re angry at Michael and you’re angry at yourself because you believed in the good in him and he turned out to be just another asshole, which doesn’t sit right with you. You couldn’t have misjudged him this badly. You saw through his facade and you thought you got a sense of who he is, and he didn’t seem as cruel to you.

It’s a lot to take in. You still struggle to wrap your head around everything that happened, but the initial hurt eventually fades into the background while you focus back on work.

During the past two weeks, Sarah prodded you for answers until you invited her over for a glass of wine and then you told her about Michael Kinsella and your shared love of coffee. You told her about the conversations you had, the subtle flirting, his help with the sign that has been professionally fixed since then, and you told her about how you kissed him and he seemed to enjoy it. You brought him coffee to work and kissed him again, and you parted ways like nothing happened. You told her all of that just to end the story with the inevitable; he left, hurting you in the process, and he hasn’t called since.

She was quick to tell you what an asshole he is and that he doesn’t deserve you, but that’s what she’s supposed to say and your feelings are a lot more complicated than that.

The behavior Michael displayed that day was so out of character. He was mean to you and he had only ever been kind to you before that. It bothers you that you don’t understand, even after days of contemplating and trying to forget him. You want to understand. His being an asshole couldn’t have been the reason for what happened. There has to be something else, you keep telling yourself, and it has to be so complex, it’s hard for him to explain, so he channeled his emotions elsewhere. That’s the only plausible explanation.

After another few days, you decide you’ve had enough. Constantly contemplating where you went wrong is making it hard to sleep and you need to understand what you got yourself into with Michael, even if it’s just to still your restless curiosity and soothe the ache in your chest. Maybe he is a serial killer; at least then you wouldn’t feel bad about how things ended.

It’s stupid, you think. You were never together. You were strangers who found solace in each other, and it was fun while it lasted. But Michael Kinsella is someone you can’t get out of your head so easily, you realized, and he will stay there until you’ve found a reason to exorcize him.

You want to see the good in people. He is no exception. And you truly believe there is good in him somewhere. He proved it to you before. Something wasn’t quite right that day and the days before. Something held him back.

You remember his hesitation when he told you his last name, the look on his face that suggested he expected you to run. While the name felt familiar, it hasn’t rung any bells. You’ve been living in Dublin for a while now, but the name Kinsella doesn’t strike you as something important, and Sarah clearly doesn’t have any idea who he is either or she would have warned you. Then again, she moved to Ireland after growing up in Scotland and is now doing her Masters in film while she’s working with you at the café. She’s just as bad when it comes to knowing the city she lives in as you are.

If Michael turns out to be a serial killer though, you’re not sure where to with yourself.

With your glass of wine in hand, you make your way to the living room table where your laptop is waiting for you. You close the empty draft of the story you were planning to write; a dramatic love story between a prince and the daughter of a Duke that was promised to him as his wife, but they don’t get along at first. Between work and the mess that is your life, you haven’t found the time yet to work on the idea.

You close the draft and move onto the internet. Typing the name “Kinsella” into the Google search bar feels wrong; you wouldn’t consider yourself a stalker, running background checks isn’t your forte, but that’s also because you’re overall bad at it. You’re not sneaky or sly – you have the grace of an elephant, so scouting the internet for information on someone is not something you usually do. This time though, Michael’s behavior forces you to take this step, and your curiosity is starting to eat you alive, so you have no other choice but to comply with this desperate need to figure out what the hell is going on.

Several news articles pop up after you press the search button. They date back several years with the top result being no older than eight years ago. The name “Kinsella” has a huge media presence, especially on social media. You’re not active on Twitter, but there are many links leading you to Twitter threads about one of Ireland’s most notorious crime families.

You know gang violence is a problem, you haven’t been living under a rock, especially not with the gas station close to your apartment getting robbed on the regular (and you’re convinced it’s not just robberies but perhaps mob hits that are meant to spread fear among the general public). What shocks you to your core though is the fact that when you open the Twitter thread first, the name Kinsella is mentioned twice in the first sentence, and the thread is full of death and bloodshed.

Someone took their time to document meticulously what the Kinsellas were up to for years. Drugs, violence, guns, murder… It has been happening right under your nose. You didn’t once notice. Your little bubble was nice to live in, not caring about the monsters lurking in the shadows of your city and just moving on with your life, but with one simple Google search, your bubble has burst.

You begin to think, Michael couldn’t have meant it when he said he was a Kinsella. He doesn’t strike you as the type of guy to do the things you’re reading about. There are several names you have never heard before, all linking to different crimes, but the police fail every time to link a member of the family to any of them – and they’re serious allegations. It seems surreal that no one has taken the fall yet.

You can’t choose your family, you know that. Maybe he was born into it but he’s not interested in being a criminal. That’s possible too. Maybe he’s trying to escape. Maybe his family is the reason why he pushed you away and he’s not as cruel as he presented to you. It would make sense and it would make you feel a lot better about yourself. Maybe–

Scrolling lower, you recognize the car dealer Michael said his brother’s wife works at. You recognize the car wash. Rumor has it that it’s a place for them to launder money. But so far, nothing has been proven. Amanda and Jimmy Kinsella, these are the names that catch your attention. Jimmy must be his brother then, Amanda the wife. She’s pretty, you can tell from the pictures someone posted into the thread.

Maybe you’re overthinking this. A lot of those Tweets sound like speculations. You can’t tie every gang-related murder in Dublin to one single family. There is more than one mob. If you have learned anything from reading crime novels it’s that there are always more players in the game, which often leads to conflict, which leads to violence, and which inevitably leads to a lot of dead bodies littering the streets. Too many drugs, too many guns, too much violence on the streets, and Ireland continues to suffer.

Michael Kinsella. You don’t want to believe that he’s part of the same family you just read an entire detailed Twitter thread on. You don’t want to believe that he is capable of hurting another human being, especially physically. You don’t want to believe it and yet, when you think about it, the tattoos, his secretive demeanor, and the general darkness that keeps his soul caged in, it makes sense.

You mutter a frustrated, “No,” to yourself. Switching back to the other search results on the Google page, the cursor moves over the article that dates back eight years ago.

Arrest Made: Husband Arrested in Fatal Shooting at Kinsella Household.

Your stomach churns.

“In the case of the fatal shooting at the Kinsella household on Wednesday, the police have officially arrested the victim’s husband, Michael Kinsella, for her wrongful death. According to police, there is concrete evidence against him and authorities are trying to convict him as soon as possible. Mrs. Kinsella leaves behind a young daughter–”

“Jesus fuck!” You down your wine in one gulp, slapping your laptop shut.

The article goes on to talk about the Kinsella family and the shooting that took place and killed that (you suppose) innocent woman – and she was Michael’s wife. He was married. He has a daughter. His wife got shot and he got convicted for it.

“I was away for eight years,” you remember him saying.

You already found it suspicious when he told you because no one leaves for eight years without explicitly planning and wanting to, but he sounded almost dreadful when he told you. He told you it wasn’t voluntary.

The article isn’t fake news, it’s real life. Michael Kinsella went to prison for killing his wife, he has a daughter, and you idiot have developed the biggest crush on a man who does not just have the name of a crime family, he is part of the said crime family. You have started falling for a guy who got convicted for murdering his own wife, and as you stare at your reflection in the dark tv screen across the room, you wonder when you have become such a naive idiot to think he’d turn out to be just another normal guy.

You’re fucked, you think. What if they want you dead now, too?

Even though you look calm on the outside, inside, you’re fuming. Your heart is racing and you can feel the air in your lungs getting thinner. This is a lot to process, too much even, but you’re stuck on a thought that won’t evade you; somehow, you’re not scared. You’re not scared of Michael or what he did, and just when you think you’ve lost your mind, you begin to think that the internet doesn’t convey everything and that maybe, there is an explanation after all, and your common sense officially declares you crazy.

But it’s true, isn’t it? Michael never struck you as the kind of guy who would be so vile and kill his own wife, let alone take a mother from her own child – his child, too – and then act as if nothing happened. Something else must have happened in the past, he suffered the consequences in prison and he continues to suffer through the aftermath even now. That is probably why he looked so broken every time you saw him. Something happened that no one talked about, and he doesn’t want to talk about it either because perhaps he’s embarrassed, and you get that.

You realize you’re twisted for trying to explain his actions, something you have no idea about, but you can’t shake the feeling that there is more to it, and not even the anger you feel at all the lies can make that inkling go away.

You’re too good, too nice, and that might be your downfall one day. But you don’t really care. Or maybe you care too much and that’s why all of this is so confusing and at the same time crystal clear. You don’t even know anymore.

With shaky fingers, you reach for your phone. After a few rings, Sarah answers. You can always count on her, even at twelve am in the middle of the night.

“Good evening, my little butterfly,” she answers cheerily. “What can I help ya with today?”

“I–” You forget what you wanted to say.

“Ya know, I was gonna call ya and tell ya about this new vibrator I got anyway. It’s in the shape of a rose. A rose! Anyway, I just tried it out and–”

“He killed his wife,” you cut her off.

She goes silent for a moment. “Who did what now?” she asks.

“Michael, he– he went to prison for eight years because he killed his wife.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, shit! Girl–” It sounds like she’s shuffling to sit down on the other end. “What the fuck is goin’ on?”

You whine. “I don’t know! I just wanted to know how he was, so I googled him and… his name, Sarah. Kinsella. It didn’t ring any bells before, but I think I heard it on the news a while back, and… it’s a mob family. They’re literal criminals. Fuck!”

Okay, maybe you are panicking. You tried to be strong before, but this is eating away at you and you feel like your sanity is slipping away. You feel lost, even more so than usual. It’s all too much to handle, and you can’t find it in yourself to properly process the information and the feelings that come with it.

Another moment of silence follows. “Well,” Sarah says, and she’s known for channeling shock in humor, “Remember when I told ya that dating a rugby player was bad? This is worse.”

“You’re not helping,” you say. Tears start welling up in your eyes.

“I know, I know,” her voice softens a tinge, “I’m sorry. I just can’t believe this is happening. Ya said he killed his wife?”

“Maybe, I don’t know. The internet suggests he was responsible, but I can’t– I met him, Sarah. I can’t believe this.”

“It’s not yer fault he fooled ya.”

“What if he didn’t fool me?”

“He went to prison fer 8 years, love. And he was convicted fer killing his wife. He’s part of a fuckin’ mob family. Who knows, maybe he’s the boss. This isn’t some creative writing dark romance shit,” she says. “Ya could be in actual danger. It’s good that bastard left ya. I’m sorry, but I’d rather have ya alive than dead.”

“I know!” Your choice echoes through the phone and back into your ear. “I’m sorry,” you apologize for your tone, “It’s just that… I know people. How did I not see this coming?”

“Shit happens.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“That’s the best I can give ya. You just know how to pick ‘em, it’s a real talent.”

“Thank you.”

“Yer welcome.”

You shake your head. “This is so fucked…”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Sarah murmurs. Her voice is gentle coming from the other end, a soft balm for your wounded soul.

You wouldn’t consider her your best friend, but she’s your closest friend, and she was there when no one else was when you first fame to the Butterfly Effect. There is a lot of history between you and right now you are grateful you’re not alone.

Your lips part in a bitter chuckle. “His wife left behind a daughter, which means he’s a father, too, apparently,” you tell her.

She gasps. “This just keeps gettin’ worse.”

“Yeah.”

“This sucks.”

“Yeah.”

“I knew there was a reason I hate dads,” she says.

Finally, her words elicit a small laugh from you. “Who knows, maybe he’s actually a good dad.”

For someone who used to be a pessimist, your optimism has become quite undying. She says your name almost condescendingly and you lower your head, knowing that you’re probably holding onto hope that’s actually nothing more than a fantasy. Michael changed your brain chemistry. You don’t know what’s real and what’s fake anymore. You’re not sure what to believe in, you can’t even trust your own mind anymore.

You have to forget him.

“Tell ya what, sunshine. You and I will go out on the town tomorrow night and get absolutely pissed–” Sarah pauses to light herself a cigarette. “What do ya say?”

It’s her turn to throw you a lifeline with a bottle of tequila attached to it, and maybe the promise of finding a distraction amongst the chaos. You nod. “Yeah,” you say, “sounds good.”

You don’t just have to forget him, you need to because even now he’s still stuck in your head, making it harder to breathe or even hear your own thoughts.

“Great, see ya tomorrow then,” she says.

“Yeah, see ya,” and you hang up, allowing the silence in your apartment to overrun and drown you again.

You should have known that forgetting him will be an impossible task. At work the next day, you feel a little dizzy. You barely slept, and the few hours that you managed to sleep were filled with ghastly dreams. You get nightmares sometimes, just like everyone else, but the ones you had that night were worse than anything you’ve experienced before.

You dreamed about Michael, there was a lot of blood and you remember that at some point, you were the one dying, not his wife, and the rest has quickly turned into a blur because your mind is trying to protect itself. Of course, you are a little less cheery today, and the bags under your eyes are a testament to how much your thoughts continue to make you suffer.

The man before you orders a double espresso. For a second, you imagine Michael standing there, his harmful words all these days ago; you’re tired of it.

“I could make you a double espresso,” you say, trying to sound calm, “but we also have other options you might like. The weather invites for something sweeter, don’t you think?”

He contemplates before agreeing with you.

“We have this new drink on the menu, we call it ‘Bittersweet Symphony’, and it’s a perfect blend between bitter and sweet–” and it reminds you so much of the person Michael is. He would have loved this drink. You shake your head slightly, trying to get him out. He shouldn’t follow you to bed, let alone to work. Even the thought alone makes you feel sick.

“It’s two shots of espresso,” you say, turning a deaf ear to the voices in your head, “topped off with usually some caramel or chocolate syrup and then a creamy white foam on top. You can have some hot milk as well if you want, sir.”

“Sounds good ta me,” he says.

“Okay, perfect. That makes 5.48 in total…”

You want nothing more than to get through your day without any more unnecessary reminders.

It isn’t until you’ve arrived home that you allow yourself to take a deep breath. You grab a quick bite to eat from the leftover pizza in your fridge, then make your way to the bathroom to take a shower before you meet with Sarah. You need to wash the sweat from the day off your skin. And you need to cry. You’ve noticed your eyes get less swollen when you keep your emotions bottled up until you have a shower you can hide in.

You once again think about Michael and the article. You think about his family, your lack of judgment, and what Sarah said about you possibly being in danger. You would have been if he told you and stayed around, perhaps, but you don’t feel like you’re in danger. Maybe you should be, but would he have agreed to spend time with you if you were in danger because of him?

You brush your hair a little angrier tonight. The picture you had of him is destroyed; you don’t know what to think or what to make of it. It’s frustrating and it shakes you to your core. What did you do to deserve this?

The clock strikes eight. You picked your best dress, fixed your hair, and applied some makeup – you don’t often go out, but tonight, you don’t care. Just when you are about to put on your shoes, there is a faint knock on your door.

You check your phone. Sarah hasn’t called or texted and you planned to meet up at the club, so who would be knocking on your door at eight in the evening? With a frown, you put your phone back down and approach the door. You don’t bother checking who’s behind it, you simply unlock it and open it. Maybe it’s a neighbor needing some sugar or flour; that tends to happen quite a bit.

Though when you look up, your heart sinks to your stomach. All this thinking about him and now he’s standing right in front of you.

Your initial thought to slam the door in his face goes to waste when he lifts his head and tries to smile at you. There is blood stuck to the corner of his mouth, his nose seems broken and someone managed to hit his eyebrows strong enough to make the skin burst open.

Michael looks a mess as he stands before you, holding onto your door frame. He tries to hide it, but the pain is evident on his face.

There is a pause. You stare at him and he stares back, the air between you charging with tension. “Hey,” he whispers eventually.

The words on your tongue turn to gibberish.

He says your name and his voice sounds utterly broken. Unshed tears glisten in his eyes. He holds onto his side as if his ribs are bruised, and it’s only then you notice his sunken eyes and how he’s slumping against your door, too weak to hold himself up. He looks exhausted in all possible ways, and his heart lies broken on the floor before you, the little bit of light you used to see in him before now gone.

“Michael,” his name is merely a breath on your lips.

“Listen, I know ya probably don’t want ta see me–” his knees buckle.

You reach out to catch him. You’re not in control. You should push him away and tell him to go to hell. You should save yourself before you get hurt, too. You shouldn’t give someone like him a second chance, but he’s bleeding and he’s in pain and he needs help. You can’t just say no to that.

He didn’t mean to come to you, to be quite fair. But then he was at the pub and there was this guy and he just wouldn’t stop talking, and he punched him. Michael punched him and he ran, and he found his way to you instead of home because fuck, he needs you. And not in the animalistic way he has wanted you before; he needs you to breathe, to learn how to live again, to find hope because he has been drowning ever since he left. The world wants to suffocate him. He’s drowning. He’s reaching for the lifeline now, and he no longer has the power to fight it.

It’s his turn to take the first step now. It’s a step he should have taken in the beginning. But looking at you, he fears it might be too late.

“I’m sorry,” the tears become clearer now as he whispers, “I’m so fuckin’ sorry…”

“Sorry? Do you even know–” You swallow thickly. “I know who you are, Michael.”

His face darkens, but it doesn’t come as much of a surprise to him. He suspected you would look him up. There is no resentment in your eyes, no fear, only disappointment. It hurts, and he wishes he would never have come.

His knees buckle again. He can’t run. He hasn’t slept in days, he has barely eaten and the alcohol is still coursing wildly through his system. The adrenaline starts to fade, leaving behind the pain that is seemingly in every bone of his body but most importantly his soul and the voice in his head grows into a cacophony of screams again.

You hold on tight to him. You shouldn’t be doing this, but it feels right. You’re acting on autopilot, even when you close the door behind you and look into his eyes.

"Fuck," you mutter to yourself, and the curse is meant for you alone. "Let's get you inside."

You guide Michael into the living room. The sofa isn't far, so you lead him there and urge him to sit down. His body feels limp and heavy against you, but you refuse to let him fall.

He groans a little when the shift in position sends a sharp pain through his ribs. His brown eyes seem lighter with the tears inside. The light glistens in them, casting an almost golden glow on his face. You take a step back, and you're not sure what to think or say that would somehow convey the turmoil of emotions that are raging inside of you.

"What happened to you, Michael?" you ask. You try to sound strong, stern even, but your voice quivers. Is that fear you feel? You're not sure, but you're alone with someone you've read a lot of dark things about and that doesn't leave you cold. He said something to you that broke you, it felt as if he played with you, and yet you can't send him away. It's pathetic, almost, but there is a voice inside of you that refuses to let you let him go, and maybe she has a point. "You look like you've been through hell," you add.

He lets out a bitter chuckle. "Tha's one way ta put it," he says. "I got into a fight at the pub. Things got out of hand."

The emotion that flickers inside of you is one you can pinpoint. It's red, hot, and burns through your veins like acid. You're angry, feral even. He once asked you if you ever get angry; he should think again, now that he can see you. "So, you resort to violence?" you snap. "Is that your solution to everything?"

Michael flinches at your words. "No, it's not. I- I messed up, okay? I'm not proud of it. But I-" he takes a deep breath and then he speaks again, much quieter this time, "I didn't know where else ta go."

A wave of exhaustion washes over you. As much as you want to turn your back on him, you can't ignore the desperation in his eyes. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions.

"Why?" you ask. "After everything, why did you think I would help you?"

He swallows the lump in his throat. The tears prick at the corners of his eyes. "Because... yer the only one who understands," his voice is barely above a whisper. "I know I don't deserve yer help, but I can't... I can't do this alone." When he calls your name this time, it's a cry for help. "I don't wanna be alone anymore," he says. "I can't-"

Your arms uncross in front of your chest. Your eyes soften, the pain in his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. The sound of your bare feet patting against the floorboards toward him is an indication that you’re coming closer, but Michael can’t see, not even a little bit.

You sit down next to him. He’s just a broken man. He isn’t dangerous. You knew he couldn’t be. Sarah and all the strangers on the internet don’t know him – he’s a man in pain who needs help, and he’s finally asked for it.

“You’re not alone,” you whisper. You abandon all worries and fears and focus solely on him. He needs you, not just anyone – he needs you and he came to get it.

He should have done so from the start.

Michael falls into your open arms almost as soon as he hears the words from your mouth. The sobs break free from his chest and he shakes, his tears staining your dress and wetting your shoulder, but you only wrap your arms around him tighter. He feels so fragile in your arms.

You stroke your fingers through his hair. “Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”

He cries for what feels like hours. His chest heaves with the missing air, his sobs echoing through the room, all the while he clings to you. You can feel his helplessness in the way his fingers dig into your flesh. He’s hiding away from the world with his face in the crook of your neck, and he’s holding you so incredibly close, you feel like you might suffocate.

After a while, he begins to calm down. Your fingers paint lazy patterns on his scalp, the other hand rubbing his back as he finds back to himself.

He leans back. His entire body vibrates when he takes a deep breath. The blood from his nose is now smeared over the sleeve of your dress too. He reminds you of yourself just then. You look at him and you see yourself, the girl who wanted to please her parents, to be someone, but life had other plans for you. You lost people you cared about, you lost yourself, and you had nowhere to go either. You were alone, lonely even, and it slowly killed you. He reminds you so much of yourself, it hurts.

Your family can’t compare with his, but you can tell from looking at him that the pain is the same as you grew up with. It’s like looking into a mirror. And you realize that this is precisely the reason why you can’t find it in yourself to be scared, you’re just angry and disappointed, but overall you’re worried about him.

“What happened to you, Mikey?” you whisper.

He chuckles breathlessly. “Too much,” he says. “And I’m sorry fer hurting ya. I never meant fer things to go so wrong. I… I feel so ashamed.”

Your hands are still resting on his shoulders, but your eyes have grown more thoughtful.

“You said ya know who I am?”

“I looked you up,” you admit.

Another tear slides down his cheek. “Okay, I understand.” He makes a move to get back up. You’re confused, watching him. When you realize he wants to leave, you grab his hand and pull him back down.

“I want to understand.”

He says your name, “I–”

Michael can tell you’re not scared. That alone seems like a warning sign. There is anger bubbling under your skin, but you’re not yelling, you’re not being physical – he realizes that you’re silent when you’re angry, and yet you try to understand where the other person is coming from even if they hurt you, and that’s as admirable as it worries him.

“I read an article… I read several articles, actually. One was about your family and the other…” You lower your gaze onto the floor, your hand slipping from his, but he’s not walking away. “Is it true?” you ask.

He sighs.

“I didn’t want to believe that you’re cruel and that’s why you said what you said to me. You acted weird and I knew it wasn’t like you, and I still believe that. I just wanted to understand, and what I read… it’s a lot of information, but we all have a different perception and I don’t think you’re the bad guy. Make me understand, Michael. If you don’t–”

“Ya want me ta leave?” he finishes for you.

You nod. And even if the truth hurts, you want to know. You can still push him away after, but you need the answers you have been searching for so desperately, and you don’t want to rely on Twitter or the news to tell you who Michael is. His family, you couldn’t care less about; this is about him, and you want to know who he is, not what family he was born into. Once you understand him, you can rethink your opinion and perhaps it will answer all of your questions and not just the most burning ones, and then you can move on. He can move on. You both can move on, maybe even together.

You’re a hopeful person, and you won’t stop having hope until there is no more reason to keep it. Michael is vulnerable. There has to be more to it than meets the eye, and judging by how his shoulders slack and he sits back down next to you, you know you were right with your suspicions that everything isn’t always as it seems. Public court of opinion is a fickle thing.

The cuts on his face look nasty. You can see them clearly now. You get up and retrieve an ice pack from the fridge, allowing him a moment to collect himself.

Michael watches intently as you grab what he suspects is your first-aid kit and a bottle of water together with a frozen pack of peas. He eyes you. He’s sure he doesn’t deserve what you’re giving him, but you have asked for something, something important, and if he doesn’t give it to you, he has to leave and then he will be alone again, without you, without anyone to hold him, and he can’t do that you. You deserve the truth, and Jimmy can go fuck himself. If you ever need protecting, he will be the first person to jump in front of the gun for you, and that’s all that matters.

You guide the ice pack to his eyebrow. “So, is it true?” you ask again. “What they said on the news?”

He nods.

“You were married?”

“She died,” Michael whispers. His eyes are focused on the empty space behind you, new tears welling up inside of them. “One day, she just got caught in the crossfire because I–” He tilts his head back. He keeps telling himself not to cry, but Allison’s face is crystal clear in his head, and her blood feels heavy in his hands. “I fucked up,” he says, “and she died. ‘Cause I couldn’t save her.”

“Did you–”

“I didn’t fuckin’ shoot her!"

You lift your hand. His wife seems to be a sensitive subject, which is valid given the circumstances of her death, so you need to dread lightly. You don’t want to open his wounds any further, and you don’t want him to think that you believe what you read because that is why you’re talking to him in the first place, to see a different side of the story.

“It’s okay,” you whisper. “I never thought you did.”

“We both know that’s not true,” he says.

“Well, I’m not thinking that anymore.”

“I loved her,” – you catch his tear with your finger – “But tha’ wasn’t enough to save her.”

He’s holding so much pain inside, so much guilt and grief. Something tells you he isn’t lying. Alone the look in his eyes gives away the truth. He’s too weak, too tired to lie to you, and you can see that talking about it in the way he does with you lifts some of the weight off of his shoulders, even though he’s carrying too much for the human soul to bear. You wish you could make his pain go away, but you can’t.

Tears well up in your own eyes now. “I’m so sorry,” that’s all you can say.

Michael waves you off, wiping his tears almost furiously. “Doesn’t matter. I paid my price,” he says.

“Eight years…”

“Yeah.”

“How did you survive?”

He chuckles. “Managed to find a way to make friends in that shithole.”

The next question has been brewing for a while as well. “And your daughter?” you ask.

He sucks in another sharp breath, looking far away from you and what’s behind you. His fists clench, stretching the bruised skin over his knuckles. “Fuck,” he sniffles.

You take his hand and the first-aid kit and start assessing the damage, not saying much more. You wait for him to make the next move, to answer you, and you just hope he stays open with you.

Watching every move you make, Michael bites his cheek before answering, “Staying with what's left of my wife's family,” he tells you. “Haven’t seen her in eight years ‘cause they didn’t let me see her.”

“But you wanted to? See her, I mean.”

“Of course, I wanted ta see her! She’s my daughter. I– I wanted nothin’ more than to see her face, watch her grow up, even if just for a fuckin' few minutes one day a week, but now… she looks so much like her ma." His voice breaks into a bitter chuckle. "I wanted to see her every fuckin’ day, that's no question, but no one let me, and now… I have no rights.”

You know people, and you figured before he couldn't possibly be a bad father. He would be excellent, even, if only he got the chance to see his daughter. If they had allowed him to see her in prison, there would be something he can build up on now, but he has nothing. It must hurt to be so helpless when it comes to one's own child. You don't have children, but you can still feel his pain. You understand what it's like in one way or another, and it pains you to see him like this.

“I’m fighting, ya know? Have a solicitor and everythin', but… they’re pushing back and now tha' I'm out, I–” Once again furiously, he wipes his cheeks.

“The chances are slim?” you say.

He nods.

“Is that why you went out drinking tonight?”

“How did ya know?” It’s a genuine question.

You shrug, wrapping a bandage around his knuckles. “I got a feeling.”

“My family is dangerous,” he says. “I pushed ya away because my brother said some things and I– well, I felt like I had to. I know yer worrying your pretty little head about wha’ I did, and the truth is, I did hurt people. I do. Before I went ta prison, tha’ was me job. Before I lost Allison… I lost her because of tha’, and now I’m in the process of losing Anna and I– I’m tryin’ to go straight, y’know? For her, for myself."

"And that's okay," you say.

"Ya don't get it. I’m the son of a drug mule, I… I killed in the name of my family– in the Kinsella name, I committed crimes tha’ I’m not proud of, but it’s my life. No, it was. I hurt people fer money, fer family, but now I just… I wanna be there for me family, and that family is my daughter, Anna, and it’s me, and that’s why I’m washin’ cars and getting coffee at a fancy coffee shop and tryin’ to find a purpose so I can be a father, so tha’ she can be proud of having me in her life. And I’d understand if ya said ya didn’t want ta see me anymore. I’d understand if ya said this is too much, too messy. I... I hurt ya and I won’t ever forgive myself for tha’, for what I did, I– I’m just sorry.”

Michael shivers when your hand finds his. He admitted he’s a murderer, he dealt drugs, he has a daughter, was responsible for his wife’s death, and yet you’re still sitting there. You reach out to hold his hand instead of running and it overwhelms him.

The ball of anxiety in his chest turns into something else, but his feelings are all over the place and his soul is scarred, he doesn’t quite understand what is happening to him. He just knows that you have the power to make the pain a little easier to deal with, and he’s not sure how to thank you or how to express what he’s feeling in a way that makes sense to you as much as it does to him – because it doesn’t make sense.

You don’t answer at first. You continue tending to the wounds on his face, wiping his nose, and putting a butterfly bandage on his eyebrow before guiding the peas back to the cut to prevent any unnecessary swelling. He watches you, granting you this moment of silence to contemplate.

What he doesn’t know is that you have already made up your mind, it just takes a moment for you to remember how to speak.

You toss the cotton swabs on the table and hand him the water bottle. “You can stay here tonight,” you say.

He frowns, confused if this is all you have to say to him.

“I can make the sofa for you so you can rest.”

Your name slips past his lips. “Please,” he whispers.

“I’m not angry or scared of you, Michael. I’m not, and that’s the thing. That’s what confuses me, but… you’re not a bad person. You’re a good man. What you did in the past–” You wipe your nose. “It doesn’t matter now. Your family doesn’t matter to me,” you say, honesty dripping from your tongue like honey, making him feel at home, safe and sound, and taken care of for the first time in years. “You matter, only you, and everyone deserves a second chance. You, out of everyone, deserve a clean slate the most and I'm the last person that would judge you because you’ve been through hell, you’re still suffering and you were alone all this time–” You should have known your voice would crack and that you wouldn’t be able to steer off the tears forever.

“I see myself in you,” you whisper, the first tear cascading down your cheek, “and that’s the only thing that terrifies me because I know how awful it is to feel this way.”

His brows furrow. He only accidentally caught you crying before, and you tried to hide it then. The tears glistening on your cheeks are real now, your eyes are quick to turn red and you wipe them away, almost embarrassed at your emotional reaction.

He reaches out, brushing his thumb over your cheekbone and toward the corner of your eye. “I’m sorry,” Michael says. “You deserve so much better, love.”

“No, that’s still my decision.”

“Ya should curse me to hell.”

“Trust me, I did.”

“Then why aren’t you doing it again?”

“I don’t know,” you answer in a heartbeat, “maybe because of you.”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

If only you knew. You shrug, leaning into the soft touch of his hand on your cheek. “Just because it’s you, Michael. I can’t explain it, but… I can’t stay away from you,” you say, “and I don’t think I want to.”

His eyes drop to your lips. “Yer puttin’ yerself in danger,” he argues.

“Michael.”

“Wha’?”

“I don’t care.”

“I–” he can’t tear his eyes off your lips.

You notice his wandering gaze and quickly pull away. He has a pull that is certain to have you on your knees in seconds, and you’re not sure if you’re ready for that. With a sigh, you get up.

“We can talk more in the morning. It’s getting late and I’m getting a little tired, so…”

Almost disappointed, Michael lets you go. He steps out of your way as you get him a blanket and a pillow, and then you disappear into the bathroom. He listens to the water running, your frustrated grunts when something isn’t going your way; you sound truly adorable.

He waits patiently until you’re done, stripping himself of his clothes as he does so. He doesn’t need clothing, he told you, he can sleep in his underwear, and you chose not to argue.

When you come out though to grab a glass of water and tell him, “I put out a toothbrush and a towel for you,” his eyes fall on the oversized shirt you’re wearing and your tied-up hair, and he curses his lack of self-control when his eyes begin to wonder.

Are you even wearing underwear?

“Thanks,” he mutters.

With weary eyes, he watches you disappear into the bedroom. He’s not sure if this is a good outcome or a bad one, but he knows that he can’t be trusted around you. At least not in his current state. He tries to ignore the growing need in the pit of his stomach, but it’s hard, and he feels the effect your scent alone has on him deep in his bones.

“I lied,” your voice rings out in the darkness when he’s already settled in on the couch.

He sits up, blinking at your silhouette. “What?” he asks.

You let out a soft breath when you walk toward him, your steps determined. “I’m not tired,” you say, and before Michael can react, he feels your soft lips on his.

He kisses back eagerly. All reservations from before disappear, leaving only you and him in the privacy of your cozy apartment. He’s quick to throw the covers off his body and pull you closer, and you situate yourself in his lap.

His hands travel the familiar distance they did when you last kissed, groping at your sides and feeling the hot skin of your thighs. You’re so soft under his fingers. The fabric of your shirt slides up, leaving more room for him to touch, but he hesitates. Hands on your hips, he pulls away to breathe and looks into your eyes.

“Yer sure about this?” he asks.

You seek his lips. “Yes,” you breathe.

He hauls you back in with a hand on the back of your head, and he kisses you with newfound intensity. His tongue slips past your lips into your mouth, tasting the lingering toothpaste. You’re so warm everywhere, yet he leaves goosebumps everywhere he goes.

You’re panting against his lips. The feeling of his rough hands on your soft skin is better in real life than in the dream you had. It’s better than touching yourself to the thought of him because finally, he is everywhere and all over you. Without the blanket between you, you can feel all of him, his skin, his hair, and the growing bulge in his boxers, and you’re higher than you have ever been. You don’t do drugs, but you suspect it feels nowhere near as good as this.

The soft glow of the street lights and the moon cast a soft glow inside, allowing you a view of each other while also keeping the serenity of it all alive. You’re not afraid or shy, you know exactly what you want. Michael seems to have the same idea.

You reach for the hem of your sleep shirt and pull it over your head. He stops to stare at you, your skin illuminated by the moon. You remind him of sunshine and flowers because that’s what you smell like.

His hands travel over your torso until they reach your breasts and he takes a moment to admire them. They’re perfect, your nipples already perky from the air in the room, begging to be sucked.

The moment of silence makes you blush. He’s staring at you while you’re half-naked atop him and it feels almost humiliating. But then his palms flatten over your back and he smiles as he looks directly into your eyes, bursting your insecurities with a simple sentence, “Yer perfect.”

Your lips part in a lustful moan when he lowers his lips to take one of your nipples into his mouth. He plays with the other with his fingers, tugging at the sensitive nub until it’s as hard as it gets. Every nerve in your body is on fire. His fingers are branded into your skin now. His tongue plays with your nipple as if he knows exactly what buttons to push, and when he sucks, you have to hold onto his shoulders for support because it feels too damn good.

The fabric between your legs is damp and uncomfortable, and his cock keeps pressing against your ass cheeks. You pull at his hair, forcing him to kiss you again.

The couch barely offers enough space, he can tell. With ease, he hoists you up and carries you to your bedroom. The light on the nightstand is on, allowing you to see his face fully. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are hooded. He’s beautiful, inside and out.

Your hands rake through his hair. He stops for a moment, towering over you with his eyes closed. He enjoys this. You take care of him, you show him care and you proved to him that it’s okay to be vulnerable, and he feels more than safe in your presence.

Michael leans back down. The kiss is gentler this time. You sigh softly. It has been a while since someone was willing to get to know you like this, not rushing the intimacy and simply lying together for a while, hands exploring each other’s bodies while your breathing aligns. You doubt you’ve ever had anyone take as much care as he does, but you’re not complaining. You love how it feels when he touches you so sensually, tracing every vein, scar, and stretch mark, and he whispers once again how beautiful you are. He says your name and you’re floating. You’re getting off on this, and he’s not doing much more than pressing his lips to your salty skin.

His lips travel from your chest to your navel now. So lost in pleasure, you don’t even notice where he’s going. A sharp tug at your thighs makes you squeal and you lift yourself up on your elbows to look at him. He’s kneeling at the foot of the bed, his head tilted to the side slightly, and he’s grinning back up at you.

“Michael,” you whisper.

He caresses your calves. “Yes, pet?” he asks oh so sweetly.

“I–” The heat rushes to your cheeks.

Michael’s lips twitch. “Can ya do me a favor?”

“Anything–”

“Spread your legs fer me.”

The blush spreads across your chest, your nipples growing even harder. Hesitantly, you do as you’re told, spreading your legs for him. He's in control now. Your body follows his every command and you’re helpless in his arms.

His eyes darken visibly. He strokes the outside of your thighs before moving to the inside, and then he’s pulling at the waistband of your underwear to get them off. You gasp when the cold air hits your aching cunt, and he looks absolutely mesmerized when he spreads your legs further apart.

“So wet fer me,” he whispers.

His hands are soon replaced by his lips, and the pace he’s keeping is teasing enough to make you clench. You know you’re dripping at this point, your hands tearing at the sheets, and you bite your lip to stop yourself from moaning.

Nuzzling his nose into your cunt, Michael lets out a low growl. “Fuck!” You smell divine. "Don't be so modest, pet, let me hear ya pretty moans."

"I can't."

You wish you could wipe the grin off his lips as he looks up at you. The sight is breathtaking enough, his face reminding you of the devil, and he has you wrapped tightly around his little finger. "Ya don't have a choice," he says.

In a matter of a second, he has your legs thrown over his shoulders and his mouth covers your pussy whole. You gasp in surprise. He doesn't warn you, he simply dives right in, taking what he believes to be his; and you are.

His tongue slides through your folds, licking the space above your entrance, and he expertly unsheaths your clit to suck on it with all he has. Your back arches, legs tightening around his head. At first, he experiments with what you like, listens to your whimpers and the small hiss of pain when he sucks too hard until he's found a pace you're comfortable with, and then he pays close attention to every last detail.

You expected a lot, but not this.

He eats you out like he hasn’t eaten in months. His lips suction around the sensitive bundle of nerves at the top before he slides his fingers down to part your folds and allowing him some space to thrust his tongue into your wet heat. The pleasure turns into an intense inferno that spreads through your entire body. You're in hell, but it's a good feeling. A sinful yet absolutely mesmerizing feeling that you have never felt before.

With every move of his tongue, he drives you higher and higher and higher until there is not much further he can go. You’re writhing underneath him, but the moans get stuck in your throat. He renders you useless. The pressure on your clit is just right, you can feel it in your toes. Your breathing echoes in your ears, your whimper a silent melody that fills the room alongside the stench of sex.

The sound of his tongue lapping at your slick folds reverberates. It’s an obscene cacophony. Your hand tangles in his hair and he moans, the pain on his scalp only driving him to go faster, deeper, harder–

“Fuck!” you let out the softest moan, but finally.

Michael smirks against your cunt. His beard burns its mark into the skin of your thighs, but you only clench them harder and he would gladly suffocate right where he is. "There ya fuckin' go," he purrs.

“Mikey,” you breathe his name, and the ecstasy that fills your voice makes his cock throb in his boxers.

He can’t get enough of your taste, your sweet juices supplying him with pornographic memories for days. He could come just like this, he’s sure, with his head between your thighs and your voice in his ear. His hands tighten around your thighs, leaving their marks there as well. He wants you to walk around the next day covered in all of him, and he gets the memory of your cunt stuck in his beard to carry proudly for the rest of the week if possible.

You arch your back again. His tongue reaches as deep as he can into your hole, drawing back out to paint pictures over your clit. It’s swollen, begging for attention, and the alternation between his gentle licks and the heavy suction of his lips is enough to make your muscles contract.

The moan you let out goes beyond anything you’ve done before. Your free hand flies to your breast, applying just the tiniest amount of pressure, and even then Michael is there to take over. The tips of his calloused fingers are the final straw, and you find yourself tethering on the edge of pure bliss.

“That’s it,” he praises.

“I’m–” You can’t form a coherent sentence without crying.

He squeezes your breast in response. “I know. So good fer me. Good girl.”

And that’s all you need.

“Come fer me,” Michael says, and the orgasm crashes into you like a tidal wave that soon turns into a tsunami. It’s strong enough to tear cities to the ground.

Every muscle in your body quivers when you reach your peak, and his tongue greedily laps up all of your juices.

You’re not sure how long you lie there, but eventually, the world returns to your senses and you can breathe. There are no restrictions, everything is free and you can just breathe.

“Holy shit,” you say.

Michael chuckles, still trapped between your legs. He peels them off his head gently. His lips are swollen now and his beard glistens with your wetness.

“Oh–”

“How was tha’?” he asks.

You can’t find the words to describe what he just made you feel, so you simply pull him back up and press your lips to his. The slightly sour, slightly metallic taste of your arousal spreads from his tongue to yours, and you moan when he presses his cock against you. There is a wet stain where the tip is. It looks painful, almost.

He grabs your face. “Hm, how was tha’, love? Talk to me.”

You swallow. “So good,” you choke out.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Has anyone ever made ya come like tha’ before?”

“No. Just you. Please, Mikey, I–” You reach for his boxers again.

He smirks. “What do you want?”

“You.”

Your eyelashes flutter as you blink up at him almost innocently, and he lets out a shuddering breath. “Fuck,” Michael buries his face in your neck, “Yer so fuckin’ beautiful. Drivin’ me crazy. You have any idea how many times I dreamt about eating yer sweet cunt? How many times I dreamt about how you fuckin’ taste and how ya’d moan my name? Sounds as gorgeous as ya fuckin’ are, such a pretty girl, hm? Always so good fer me…”

The look in his eyes is almost loving when he cradles your cheek, but his words are filthy. You can’t help but moan in agreement. “Yours,” you whisper.

“Mine,” he repeats, “That’s right.”

This time, when you try to help him out of his underwear, he lets you. Your eyes widen at the sight of his throbbing cock, the tip red and the veins on the underside protruding. Pre-cum stains the head, and he’s big. God, he’s big.

“All mine,” Michael says.

You grab a hold of his cock. The sight before you is something you should photograph. His eyebrows furrow and he lets out a low moan. As your hand is working up and down his shaft, he’s holding himself up with one arm, and you can see every muscle in his bicep tense. And his hands… you get lost in how the veins look, how large they are, and how perfectly they would fit around your throat.

As if he read your mind, he grabs your jaw and pulls you in for a sloppy kiss. His hand moves to your neck, but you don’t push him away.

“Wait,” he murmurs and calls your name. “Do ya have a condom?

“I’m clean and on the pill,” you answer breathlessly. “If you want we can–”

His jaw slacks. “I've always been safe, too," he says.

“Then fuck me."

"Fuck-"

He grabs his cock and drags it through your slit, coating himself in your wetness. You hiss when he bumps against your clit, and he returns the same motion until you’re a quivering mess. Only then does he find your entrance and slowly push inside.

It’s a stretch, at first. He knocks the breath out of your lungs with his girth. He pushes forward, thrusting into you gently until he has bottomed out, and he stays buried deep inside of you for a moment. His eyes scan your face. You’re panting, your eyes are closed and your jaw is slack. You look so good like this, something to be devoured, to be worshipped, just perfect.

“You okay?” he asks, stroking a strand of hair out of your face.

He looks so rough on the outside, but he can be gentle when he wants to.

You take a deep breath. “Yes,” you say. He throbs inside of you and you clench, feeling all of him everywhere at once.

Michael is high on you. He nods and finally brings his hips back, keeping only the tip inside of you, before thrusting his cock back inside of you. You throw your head back.

“Fuck, you feel so good…”

He envelops your lips in a passionate kiss. “Yeah, yer so fuckin’ tight,” he says. “Could do this all day. Feel your cunt around my cock. Feel ya clench around me, make ya come, turn ya into a dumb little mess.” He picks up speed with his thrusts and angles his hips just a little higher.

Your eyes roll back into your head when he finds the spot inside of you that no man, not even yourself, had ever been able to reach before.

“Ya’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He chuckled hoarsely when you whine. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Your legs wrap around his waist. His chest hair brushes against you, your sweat mingling, rolling down in small droplets onto the sheets. Your nipples rub against him. He kisses your lips, your cheek, your neck, everywhere.

You get lost in the feeling of his cock splitting you open. The bed creaks with every hard thrust and you see stars. The headboard rocks against the wall, probably waking the neighbors, but you can’t be bothered.

Intertwining your fingers, Michael brings your hand to his lips first before forcing it above your head. You’re holding onto each other now, your other hand tangled in his hair while he grabs your face and explores the inside of your mouth once again. He tastes you, feels you wrapped tightly around his cock, and the moans that spill out of you make him impossibly harder.

You’re everywhere. He breathes you, you live in his mind now, your blood is his and you’ve become one. His cock disappears inside of you, and there is no telling where one ends and the other begins. Your limbs are tangled. He takes his time, reveling in the feeling of you all over him, but he also needs more. It’s you, you, you, and even more of you. He can’t get enough.

His grunts echo in your ears as he buries his head in your neck again. Reaching down, he catches your clit between his fingers. He feels his cock driving into you, disappearing, and then moving out again.

He is not going to last long, but he won’t come before you. The feeling of being bare inside of you, your cunt right around his cock, and the possibility of coming inside of you, filling you up, and marking you for everyone to see that you are his drives him wild with desire, and it’s not long before his grunts turn into soft moans and you’re crying for him.

Michael continues circling your clit with his fingers, applying more pressure, and you clench around him again. Your hips buck into his. You search for his lips, your whimpers so sweet. He swears he’s died and gone to heaven.

“Michael,” you moan.

He bites down on your bottom lip.

“Mikey, please,” you’re begging him now.

He grabs a fistful of your hair and kisses you harder. “Yer mine,” he pants. “Your heart, your body, your soul… all mine.”

“Yours.”

“So desperate for my cock, so desperate to come–”

“Yes!” He hits your G-spot just right. “Fuck, Michael, I–”

“Gonna come?” he asks.

You nod.

“Want me to fill ya up, hm? Want me to make ya mine? Mark ya? Is that what you want? To be mine? Have my cum inside of ya? Walk ‘round with it dripping out of yer sweet cunt?”

Your mouth falls open. You reach for the pillow above your head, the other still entwined with Michael’s above your head. He squeezes your hand, a silent question if you’re okay, and you squeeze back. You’re more than okay. You’re losing yourself, but it’s so good, you’re free-falling.

It only takes one push from him for you to fall off the precipice. “Give it ta me, then,” he whispers into your ears. “Come fer me, love. Come all over my cock.”

You’re falling again, this time deeper than before. Your cunt spasms around his cock and you cry out his name. It bounces off the walls and hits him, your jaw slacks, and your body lies drenched in the sweat of pleasure. You’re the lewdest sight he has seen in a while, but it’s what he lives for, it’s what he breathes for.

“God,” he moans, “A good fuckin’ girl, that’s what you are.”

His hand wraps around your throat, his lips swallowing your moans as he thrusts hard once, twice, and then he stops and his hot seed spills into you. His teeth sink into your shoulder, muffling the whimper of your name, and your orgasm takes everything out of him, everything he can give.

“Fuck,” you breathe.

Michael no longer finds himself able to hold himself up and he collapses on top of you. His head goes quiet. The world turns to silence. As peace settles over you, only the sound of your labored breathing fills the dimly lit bedroom.

You process what just happened. Whatever compelled you to leave your bedroom was desperate for what Michael had to give, and he delivered. It was different from what you expected, it was more intimate, and you couldn’t quite separate your emotions from his body, but that couldn’t have been such a bad thing now that you’re lying with him in your arms, your fingers still intertwined.

He gave himself to you and in return, you did the same.

“Michael,” you’re first to break the silence.

He gently pulls out of you and drops down next to you. His brown eyes meet yours. You reach out to touch his cheek.

“You okay?” you ask.

He closes his eyes. His hand brushes your stomach. “Yeah,” he answers soon enough. “Grand,” he says.

“Really?”

“I’m perfect, love.” His knuckles brush over your heated skin and cause goosebumps in their wake. “How’re you feelin’?”

“Grand,” you mimic him.

He smiles, which quickly turns into a chuckle when you giggle at him.

Slowly, he untangles his fingers from yours, only to run them through your hair. He’s gentle, still scared he might scare you away. You’re important to him, he can’t deny that, but how does one tell someone how complex their feelings are? He doesn’t understand them, and he’s scared that he might lose you because of that.

Your smile coaxes him back to reality. “What’s on your mind?” you ask.

He shrugs.

“Tell me.”

“I just… I don’t want to lose ya,” he says.

Your eyes soften and you turn on your side. “You won’t,” you wipe the sweat from his brow, “Not now, not ever.”

“But what if ya change your mind? What if– what if ya get hurt because of me?”

He’s tired. Tears start to form in his eyes and you’re glad he’s talking, that he’s found a way to voice his thoughts, but you can tell that tonight isn’t the time to talk about this. You’re both exhausted, him even more so than you and he needs a break. You need a moment to breathe together and let the day pass before jumping to conclusions. You need to be lucid for this, not drunk on sex and emotional despair.

“Shh–” Your body curls into his as you shush him. “We can talk about this tomorrow,” you say. You don’t sound demanding, you simply try to appeal to his common sense.

Michael shudders. “Yer right, I don’t want ta think.” He wraps his arms around you. You’re still so warm, your heartbeat aligning with his. He can feel your pulse under his fingers; it’s a calming lullaby that distracts him from reality. “I just want you,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yer all I need.”

And not just tonight, he thinks.

You smile. “Yeah,” you say, “me too.”

Whatever this means, it doesn’t matter because you’re here, in each other’s arms, and for tonight, that is enough. You hope it’s enough, and you hope that you will be enough for him. Now that you have him, you couldn’t stand losing him, and it’s that thought you carry with yourself long after you have fallen asleep, his arms still holding you so tight, no one would be able to touch you but him.

Tagging: @bellaxgiornata @loveroftoomanyfandoms @acharliecoxedfan @lina-mar @itwasthereaminuteago @mattkinsella @ms-murdockswift

#michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella #michael kinsella smut #michael kinsella fluff #michael kinsella angst #kin amc #reader insert #no y/n #butterfly effect #coffee shop au #charlie cox

92 notes · View notes

tonberry-yoda · 1 year

Text

You Don't Have to Miss Me

Pairing - Reaper x reader

Warnings - none! angsty, but fluffy, but angsty lol (i also didnt proofread this at all lol, so if there are some funky bits, i really dont care lmaooooo)

Word Count - 1,954

Notes - i have been loving overwatch and then this hottie appeared and i was like... dangit. now i have to write for him smh. this is 7 pages on google docs lmaooo. im not the biggest fan of this one, but i thought i would just put it here for funsies lol. enjoy and have a good day and stay hydrated!! <333

Gabriel woke up, completely exhausted. Nothing new. At least he had those few moments of sleep that made him forget about the pain. Even if it was only a couple of hours, it was bliss. But it still didn't make up for the times he would wake up with nothing but pain surging through his body.

He quickly got out of bed, trying to make himself busy before he thought too much about the pain. That was difficult though, especially considering just how bad it hurt. He was in agony. It's like he was going insane. He just wanted it to stop.

Gabriel jumped feeling his cat rub on his leg, hoping to get some attention. Gabriel leaned down with a small smile, petting it on the head. “I'll feed you soon, Grimm.”

Grimm mewed with curiosity as Gabriel walked to the bathroom immediately greeted by his tired face. The icing on the cake. On top of feeling like shit, he looked like shit too. Just great.

He was quickly pulled from his mind as he felt Grimm’s soft fur back on his legs. “Grimm, no kitties in the bathroom.” He held Grimm from under his arms, the fat thing going ragdoll mode just to annoy Gabriel. “Shoo, out.” Gabriel pushed Grimm’s chubby butt away from the bathroom and slammed the door, sad and lonely meows quickly following.

Gabriel just stared at himself in the mirror for a moment before taking a deep breath. He needed to take a goddamn shower. He already looked and felt like shit, he didn't want to smell like it on top of that.

Ignoring the sad meows from the other side of the door, Gabriel let the water from the shower cover his whole body. Nice and warm. Today was going to be a long day, best to start it off good.

His nice shower was quickly interrupted, however, when he heard his phone ring. Usually, he would ignore that sort of thing, but when he peeked his head out of the shower, he saw your name plastered on his screen.

He cursed under his breath and jumped out of his shower, wiping his hands dry enough to at least answer the call.

“Reaper! That you?!” He put you on speaker and could hear that you were in the middle of battle, gunshots and explosions going off in the background.

“Y-Yeah. What’s up?” He jumped back in the shower, washing the soap out of his hair.

“Are you in the shower right now? OH SHIT!” He heard a couple of gunshots in the background and then silence.

“Are you oka-”

“You still there, Reaper?”

“Yeah, I'm still here.” He quickly ended his shower and wrapped a towel around his lower half.

“Are you nearby at all?” You sounded out of breath.

“Nearby as in…”

“We’re in Spain right now. I was wondering if you-”

Gabriel laughed, drying off his hair. “Sorry, sweetheart. I'm at home in America right now. There is no way in hell I'm rushing my ass over to Spain in the next five minutes. Call someone else.”

“Ugh! You’re no help, you know that?!” You took cover and reloaded your gun. “EAT MY BULLETS YOU PIECE OF SHIT!! I'll call you later, Reaper. I should be back tomorrow morning. Oh… and about the other night-”

“I don't want to talk about it.” Gabriel put his finger over the hang up button, tempted to press it.

“Don't hang up, Reaper. I just wanted to-”

Gabriel hung up quickly. He didn't want to talk about the other night, nor did he want to hear about it.

— — —

“What an asshole!” You reloaded your gun and went haywire on the other team.

“Is everything alright?” Widowmaker ran up to you and quickly grabbed your hand helping you off of the ground.

“I'm fine. Just a little pissed, that’s all.” You couldn't help but talk through gritted teeth. You were on edge right now.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Widowmaker watched your back and you watched hers. Thank god you had her on your side.

“I mean… I do… but he asked if we could keep it on the downlow, so I don't think I can.”

“He? You didn't tell me this was about a guy!” Widowmaker’s eyes went shiny, ready for you to spill everything.

“Oh, shut up, Widow, it's not like that.” You rolled your eyes, giggling a bit.

“Sure it's not.” Her tone was mocking, but it didn't stop you from laughing a bit. “So, who is he? Is he handsome? Does he have muscles?”

“Not telling. Yes. Yes.” You quickly ran through her questions, keeping your eyes on the other team.

“Do I know him?”

“I'm not telling you that.”

Widow rolled her eyes and you both heard a loud, “FIRE IN THE HOLE!!!”, which meant it was time for you both to get out of there.

“Come on, y/n! Just tell me!”

“He would kill me if I did that!” You both hurdled over a bus and held the back of your heads for cover.

“I got it!” You heard loud music and looked up to find Lucio, who threw you a thumbs up. Quickly after his attack, there was cheering from the rest of your team.

You won. Thank god.

Maybe that would finally get Widowmaker to stop asking questions.

— — —

“Sooooo,” DVA walked over to you, taking a long sip from some fruit punch. “I heard you were uh… you know… with a guy?”

You nearly choked on your food that you got from the little celebration table for winning. Of course Widowmaker had to blab about this. You knew you should’ve kept your mouth shut.

“Look, DVA, it doesn't really matter, okay? Where’d you get the punch?” You tried to change the subject, but of course that wouldn't work for DVA.

“So, who is he? Is he a dirtbag? I hope he’s treating you well!” She put her hands on her hips dramatically and you shook your head, standing up to leave.

“It doesn't matter, DVA. And yes! He’s treating me fine, thank you!”

“But Widowmaker said you were pretty pissed at him.” DVA checked her nails and you froze. How much did Widowmaker say?

“What are you two talking about?” Widowmaker appeared, grabbing herself something sweet off of the table full of food.

“Oh nothing,” you walked over, nonchalantly taking some food for yourself. “Just that you're spilling the news to everyone about a guy that I'm friendly with.”

Widowmaker’s face turned a dark shade of red. “I-I'm sorry. I just thought-”

You giggled and patted her on the shoulder. “I'm joking Widow. But seriously,” your tone got low, getting close to her ear. “Tell one more person and you’re gonna get it.”

Widowmaker laughed nervously, but you gave her another reassuring pat. “You can't blame me for wanting to know about the mystery man, y/n.”

“I know, I know it's just-” You were quickly interrupted by your ringtone. “Sorry, Widow, I gotta-” You looked down at the name and your face went bright red. “I-I gotta go! Eat an extra cake for me, okay?!”

Why did Reaper have to call you now?

“Hello?” You found a small closet to hide in for the time being, far enough from the celebration. “Reaper?”

“Hey… uh…” Gabriel rubbed the back of his neck. “Are you busy?”

“No… I mean… we just won, so we’re kinda celebrating,” you scooted an old mop to the side, sitting on the ground. “But I'm not busy. I can talk.”

“Oh, congrats.”

“O-Oh! Thanks, Reaper! So… uh… what did you want to talk about?” Your voice was soft, trying not to attract any attention if anyone walked by.

“Uhm… you know what… nevermind. It doesn't really matter. Celebrate your accomplishment. You deserve it. See you tomorrow, alright?” Gabriel went to press the hang up button, but you stopped him.

“Wait… Reaper… what’s up?”

“I'm sorry.”

“Sorry? Why are you sorry?”

“Just,” Reaper sighed. “About the other night. I know we haven't seen each other in a while. I shouldn't have-”

“Gabe… I mean, Reaper. You don't have to apologize. Really. I just-” You were quickly interrupted by a knock on the door. “I have to go. We can talk tomorrow. Promise.”

“Wait, I-” You hung up the phone, leaving Reaper’s house in complete silence.

— — —

Gabriel woke up to the feeling of Grimm’s cold paws on his face. “Dude,” he sat up, his voice tired. “Who the heck let you in here? Did I leave my door open last night?”

Grimm mewed at him sweetly and ran his tail under Gabriel’s chin. He looked around the room, subconsciously petting Grimm. Something was off. Different. His door was open and so was his closet. Did he just forget to close everything the night before? Was he that tired?

Grimm jumped off the bed with a loud meow and quickly ran down the stairs. He was acting weird too. Was Gabriel just that tired?

He just remembers getting off of the phone with you and then…

Wait.

Gabriel quickly jumped out of bed, slipping on some sweatpants, and ran downstairs, immediately greeted by the smell of eggs and bacon. He slid to the kitchen, pulling out his guns pointing them at… you?

“Woah! Put those down, Reaper!” You ran up and moved his guns down with a giggle. “Sorry! I didn't want to wake you up!”

Gabriel sighed with relief and leaned against a nearby counter. “I knew something was off in the house.”

You smiled and handed him a plate of breakfast. “I'm just glad you didn't shoot me.”

“Me too.” Gabriel chuckled softly and took his breakfast with a soft thank you.

“I'm not mad by the way, Gabe.” Your voice was low, your eyes glued to the window in his kitchen.

“You're not?”

You shook your head and turned your gaze to Gabriel. “We just… needed to talk. Maybe not that loudly,” you chuckled and took a long sip from your coffee. “But we talked, didn't we?”

“I guess… I just… I didn't want to yell at you like that.” Gabriel got flashbacks of a couple nights ago. You were just coming to visit. It had been years. You ended up talking… and then yelling… and then screaming. Some of it felt good, and some of it didn't. Some of it he meant to say, and most of it, he didn't. He knew you cared about him… he just didn't want to get attached. He didn't want to be a burden to you. He just… wanted you to be happy. And he didn't think that being around him would make that happen.

“And I didn't want to yell at you like that either, Reaper. I just… I care about you.”

“But you shouldn't.” Reaper could feel tears in his eyes that he quickly tried to cover. He couldn't cry. He wouldn't.

You walked up and cupped his cheek, smiling into his eyes. Something about seeing him without the mask made you feel special. Hell, maybe you were.

“Gabe, I-”

He couldn't help it. Those cute eyes. That sweet smile. Your soft touch. He cupped both sides of your face and leaned down to your level, pressing his lips to yours. You quickly sank in, throwing your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

He couldn't help but still love you. Even after you and Soldier left him. Even after he left you. He couldn't help but want you back in his life. He loved you. He loved you so much.

You pulled away, running your fingers through his soft, but messy hair. “Gabe. I miss you.”

“You don't have to miss me anymore.”

#reaper #reaper x reader #gabriel reyes #gabriel reyes x reader #overwatch #overwatch reaper #overwatch x reader #overwatch 2 #overwatch 2 x reader #writing #my writing #fanfic #fanfiction #<3 #stay hydrated!!

341 notes · View notes

isdalinarhot · 5 months

Text

here are my reasons that Brandon Sanderson is a bitch ass hoe

all the villains he made fat and/or gain weight to show that theyre greedy and evil and irredeemable. fuck you. fuck you so hard for that. fuck you so bad. sadeas should not be "stout" roshone should not be gaining weight in every kaladin flashback you see him in i hate you sanderson i would think as someone who has gained weight as part of aging yourself you would be less of an asshole on this front. die.

DALINAR UGLY???????? REFUSE TO BELIEVE DALINAR HOT????????? YOUR TASTE IN MEN IS SOOOOOO BAD BRANDON SANDERSON. GOD.

when you were in your 30s you wrote dalinar and were like he is JSUT AS IN SHAPE AS HE WAS IN HIS PRIME. 2% body fat shredded as hell NOT tired after doing insane amounts of work. hes basically a 20 year old that is 50. and then you hit your 40s and you were like Dalinar stretched weird and his shoulder hurt. yeah thats what i thought. bitch. i have chronic back pain early for binding reasons so im a little bit sensitive to this before its developmentally normal for me to be so but i think that giving dalinar a little bit of signs of aging and old man weaknesses is a VERY GOOD THING. sorry you dont feel the same way sanderson. smh.

#sanderson critical #i dunno man i have hammers and im going to dragonsteel 2024 you do the math #luke.txt #drunkposting

25 notes · View notes

crikeygatormate · 2 years

Text

Tied Down (Part Two)

Cowboy!Bakugou x AFAB Reader

Summary: You’ve been trying to become number one for so long, but just when you thought you would become a Champion Reiner, Bakugou Katsuki steals the spot from beneath your nose and becomes your number one rival. While on your way back to the top you find out there’s more to Bakugou than meets the eye.

This is was so long lmao, lets hope it makes sense plot wise I did not plan this story out haha we just writing blind. Also POA is a breed of pony they are very cute :) Lmk if I didn't tag anything right, I'm still bad with the new system smh

Warnings: all my grammar errors, self-loathing reader, feelings of depression, guilt, and shame mentioned, dead-parent mentioned, general discourse, fingering, oral fem receiving, praise, degrading if you squint ;)

Part Two

It was cool in the room you were in, the fan above you was lazily pushing air around the room. You pressed your face into the pillow as you started to wake up, regretfully so. The first thing you began to notice was your pounding headache, dry mouth, and rolling nausea.

“Better get up sweetheart, Katsuki doesn’t like waiting. Sure you know that already,” Kirishima’s deep voice filled the small room.

You blinked, lifting your head as you rubbed your eyes, “what?”

“You’ve got that lesson in about fifteen minutes,” Kirishima said as he checked his watch and shrugged on his jean jacket.

You shot up, practically scrambling to detangle yourself from his sheets, “shit, where are my keys?”

“Momo took your car home before we left, one of your friends was sick,” Kirishima answered coolly as he ran a hand through his hair and tied it back, “you sort of blacked once we got back to my place.”

You sighed heavily, that would explain why you were still in your clothes from last night. Well at least Kirishima was a good guy, not that he wasn’t but it was apparent nothing else had happened after you got back to his place. “This is so humbling,” you muttered as you adjusted your top.

“Here,” Kirishima said as he tossed you one of his shirts, “you can wear that for your lesson.” He was looking rather smug as he watched you yank off your crop and shimmy his shirt on. He knew that would piss Katsuki off.

“Thanks, I owe you, really,” you said quickly as you hopped out of his bed and put your boots on.

Kirishima gave you a lopsided grin as he grabbed his keys from his dresser and twirled them around one large finger while he watched you scramble around his room. “Of course, sweetheart.” He did think you were cute, definitely worth chasing, but he was never one to stick around for long.

You sighed and rubbed your eyes as you came to a stop by Kirishima, “do you think you can drop me off at Katsuki’s ranch? I’d drive but-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Kirishima said as he shook his head, “we better get goin’ though.”

You nodded as you held your crop top tightly in your hands and you followed him out of his home. It was pretty small but cozy. He lived on Crimson Ranch, which made sense, he was a ranch hand. Off to the side of his house, you could see a big cattle dog sniffing around what you assumed was Kirishima’s horse.

You frowned as your nausea hit you again, you had no idea how you were going to get through a lesson this morning. Riding hungover was never smart, and you would hate for Bakugou to see you looking weak. He’d probably make some smart comment, that asshole. Again though, you were starting to grow angry at the fact your uncle got you a lesson with Bakugou in the first place. Why did he do that?

Thankfully the drive to Bakugou’s ranch was pretty quick, or you were sure you would have had to ask Kirishima to pull over so you could calm your rolling stomach. As you came to a stop outside of Bakugou’s arena you were in shock at how big his facility was. Guess being champion for three years meant that he had gotten rich fast.

Your mouth turned sour with jealousy as you looked at his two outdoor arenas and large indoor arena. He had two huge stables and at least five or six pastures right by his office building, all of them currently filled with Dynamight foals.

Dynamite, you huffed, that horse no doubt had strong genes, almost all of his babies were roans like him. Or maybe Bakugou just had a preference for breeding roans.

“It’s impressive isn’t it,” Kirishima said with a sigh as he leaned back in his seat, causing it to creak under his weight.

You nodded, “it is.” Your father’s ranch was like this, not as fancy, but big enough to create a legacy. One that you let slip through your fingers. Something you’d never forgive yourself for.

In the distance, you could see Bakugou out in one of the outdoor arenas riding his horse, and another was tied off by the fence. It was small, and looked almost like a POA, due to all of its red spots. You narrowed your eyes, he was putting you on a pony? In fact, was he putting you on his old childhood pony?

Kirishima started to laugh from next to you, apparently, he saw the pony too, “he must really hate ya to be putting you on Peach.”

You lifted a brow, “great.”

“Can’t believe that old thing is still kickin’ she’s gotta be at least twenty two now,” Kirishima said as he shook his head, “she’s mean as hell, hates the bit big time. Better be gentle or she’ll buck ya off,” he said with a slight glimmer in his eyes. Seemed like Kirishima had his fair share of time with the pony.

You huffed, guess Bakugou was making sure you did have soft hands after all. “Well, thanks for the ride, Kiri-”

“I’m gonna watch,” Kirishima announced as he got out of his car, leaving you in the passenger seat.

“Okay,” you said to yourself, feeling a little more self-conscious now. You didn’t know Kirishima very well. You had heard of him through the grapevine, saw a photo or two on social media, but now after last night, you didn’t want to embarrass yourself even more.

With a disgruntled sigh you got out of the truck and followed Kirishima to the gate of the arena. The sun was already hot on your back and you plucked the oversized shirt you were wearing. You squinted as Bakugou rode up to you and Kirishima and came to a stop, his vermillion gaze cutting between the two of you.

“You’re late,” he said, glancing at your attire and the dark marks that lined the side of your neck. “The hell are you wearin’?”

“We didn’t have time to stop by her place to get changed,” Kirishima quickly answered for you, giving Bakugou a nasty smirk as he suddenly yanked you close to his side.

You yelped almost tripping over your own boots as you collided with Kirishima’s side, “right,” you added, feeling your face heat up as Bakugou clenched his jaw.

“Whatever, go get on Peach, don’t wanna hear you complain if you get a saddle sore,” Bakugou snapped before glaring back at Kirishima.

You rolled your eyes, “I ride in shorts all the time, I’ll be fine.” That part was true, but you were more worried about your hangover. You haven't eaten yet, not like you could stomach food right now, but bouncing around on a pony was the last thing you wanted to do.

“Tough isn’t she?” Kirishima said as he squeezed your side with a big hand before letting you go. He was still looking at Bakugou with that nasty smirk that was only growing larger by the second.

Your eyes widened in shock as Kirishima chuckled before giving your bum a harsh smack as you walked past him. “Kirishima,” you harshly whispered, as your whole body seemed to become aflame with embarrassment.

He shrugged, “I like those shorts.”

You didn’t even dare to look up at Bakugou who you sure was mocking you. With a disgruntled sigh, you walked past Bakugou and towards Peach who looked pissed to be tacked up.

—------

“The hell do you think you’re doin’?” Bakugou snapped once you were out of earshot.

Kirishima smiled, “what? She’s a catch, can’t let that slip through my fingers, man.” He gave Bakugou another knowing smirk before he shoved his hands in his jean pockets. “She’s pretty wild too, ya know.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes, “I don’t wanna hear it.”

Kirishima shrugged, “wasn’t plannin’ on tellin’ ya anything.”

Bakugou huffed, turning his head away from Kirishima who started laughing again. “Fuckin’ prick.”

“What? I’m just havin’ fun, she is too. Just relax man,” Kirishima shot back.

—-----

Once you reached Peach you were surprised to see how well she looked for being so old. Granted she was always a cute pony, about 14.1 hands, and had a kind eye. However, you knew better so you approached her nicely, trying to tune out the two men arguing behind you.

“Hi pretty girl, you gonna be good for me today?” you said as you patted her neck.

Peach’s ears swiveled towards you and she gave you a soft nicker, which in your book was pretty good. Perhaps you would be okay. Honestly, the way this morning was going, you’d be surprised if it could get any worse.

With a sigh, you untied her reins from the fence and put them over her head. With a small bit of struggling you managed to pull your tired body into the saddle and let out a breath as you got comfortable. “Okay, soft hands,” you told yourself as you moved Peach away from the fence.

You figured you go on and walk over to Bakugou, but it appeared Peach had a different idea. In your tired mind, you weren’t sure what happened but you might have pulled back on the reins just a tad when she picked up the pace. Instead of her stopping, she took off with a screech so full of anger you instantly woke up scrambling to find your seating. “Oh shit,” you yelped as she turned her head and shot you the gnarliest glare a horse has ever given you.

“Use your body to stop her!” Bakugou shouted as he kicked his stallion to chase after you.

You furrowed your brows as Peach started to buck, squealing and huffing while you tried to tighten your abs and deepen your seat to get her to slow down and stop. Although it seemed like she had it out for you now. “Not working!” you shouted back, suppressing a groan as the horn of the saddle struck you in the stomach.

“Damn it Y/n, she’s a fuckin’ pony, just ride!” Bakugou sneered from next to you as his stallion flared his nostrils, not exactly happy to be next to the bucking old pony.

“I am!” you snapped back as one of your boots came out of the stirrup. Of course, Bakugou would put you on the pony from hell. He probably thought it would be funny watching you struggle. With gritted teeth you grabbed the reins and pulled Peach’s head up from her chest to stop her bucking and kicked her forward, making the pony start to gallop now instead of bucking.

“Easy, easy,” you hissed as you held your hand up by her neck, trying to keep your hands soft so she would calm down. After a few laps around the arena, Peach started to slow down until she came to a stop near Kirishima who was looking rather entertained.

“Phew, she’s a fuckin’ bitch, but gotta love her, huh,” Kirishima said as he patted the pony’s neck, “gotta nice seat too, darlin’, you could be a good bronc rider, ya know?”

You managed to give him a wobbly smile as you tried to control your nausea. “Thanks.”

“Hmm,” Kirishima looked at his watch, “I better get goin’, but thanks for the show. Catch ya later?”

You nodded, unsure as to why he would want to see you again considering everything that just happened since you had woken up this morning. “See ya,” you said, watching the tall redhead saunter back to his truck and peel out of the ranch, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake.

“Wonder you made it this far,” Bakugou’s voice cut in, “you ride like shit.”

It felt like ice had run down your spine at his words. He told you the same thing three years ago after his stallion kicked yours. “What did you say?”

“I said,” Bakugou began, nostrils flaring with anger, “it’s a wonder you made it this far.”

You locked your gaze with his feeling your temper flare something fierce. It was almost like every nerve in your body became ablaze with fire. He was watching you stew, getting ready to feel the wrath of your venomous words that were on the tip of your tongue. Your blood was practically boiling and you opened your mouth to call him something vile, but beneath that anger, you came to quickly realize you were feeling shame.

You were ashamed.

Ashamed that you weren’t as good of a rider as you thought, and despite all the hard work you’ve been putting in you haven’t been able to catch up. Even three years ago when everything you knew hung on the edge of a knife, you would have lost because Izuku would have won, and in fact he deserved to win and so did Bakugou.

Shame was then closely followed by guilt and you felt your anger morph into a sickly feeling that was sitting like a heavy stone in your stomach. It made your limbs heavy and your bottom lip wobbly as the blame you placed on Bakugou for years came crashing down on you.

You were the reason you weren’t able to keep your father’s ranch, his legacy. It wasn’t Bakugou’s fault. You still blamed him for Izuku’s accident, but you couldn’t keep blaming him for something you lost yourself.

“You’re right,” you said finally, your voice was small.

Bakugou did a double-take. What did you say? You were agreeing with his insult? “Huh?”

You sighed and pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes as your fragile little world crashed down around you, “you heard me.”

Then Bakugou huffed, watching you slump in the saddle like a lesson kid who just got told her lesson pony didn’t belong to her. “Quit moping and ride, dumbass. I got shit to do.”

You shot him a glare, still very much upset, but that didn’t mean you liked Bakugou any more than you used to. “I’m stayin’ for thirty more minutes and I’m not comin’ back here again.”

“Fine by me, princess,” Bakugou sneered, clearly annoyed with you. “Probably do poor Peach a favor not havin’ you bounce around on her back.”

“Oh fuck off,” you shot back, “says the guy who has his horse do all the work for him.” That was a lie, he was a great rider, but you needed to have the last word. So you urged Peach forward and began running your pattern around the arena, trying to keep your hands soft.

—------------

After your lesson with Bakugou, the next week or so something inside of you seemed to change. You weren’t as excited to ride and you found yourself putting off training more and more. In fact, you were avoiding it so much that you decided to start jogging in the morning.

You hated jogging, it was terrible and your poor knees felt like they were gonna tear every time you took a step, but it seemed to be better than going back into the arena and facing the ugly monster called shame.

Your dog, however, loved that you started to run. He easily kept in stride with you as you ran down the road. A few more horrendous minutes passed and you came to a stop, panting as you wiped sweat from your forehead.

It was still early enough to where you could see the sunrise start to creep above the horizon, illuminating the country with a soft glow that you loved to watch. In fact, your fondest memories were when you watched the sunrise with your dad. You both would be tired and sweaty from hauling hay and alfalfa around the ranch to your horses and grain to the cows. The best part was that by the time you finished the sun would be rising.

You both would carry your tired bodies to the front step of the house and you’d plop down, almost ready to fall back asleep. Your dad would go back into your house, and you watch him through the dusty window. He’d press two fingers against his lips and then place it on the photo of your mom by the doorway and then disappear into the kitchen. He would return with a cup of lukewarm coffee for him and a glass of orange juice for you.

You’d both sit on the steps of the porch in silence watching as dawn turned into morning and admire how much the sky changed from deep purples to pink, and then to a clear blue.

You missed him dearly, and you missed your ranch, the home you grew up in. The home that held your last memories of your mom and your dad.

“Damn it,” you muttered, feeling tears well up in your eyes. It had been years since you last cried. You refused to let yourself cry since you lost the ranch, it didn’t seem fair that you got to be sad about something you caused.

But it was too late, the dam had burst and you were standing smack dab in the middle of a back dirt road crying as the sun rose.

You were so lost in your tears and sniffles that you failed to see that there was a loose horse trotting down the road, and you didn’t even notice when it stopped in front of you snorting as it started to inspect you.

You hiccuped, wiping tears from your cheeks as you looked up to see the horse in front of you. Of course, it was a fuckin’ roan, “of course,” you laughed coldly. You wiped your eyes again as you inspected the horse and quickly came to realize that this horse wasn’t just any horse, it was Bakugou’s prized stallion Dynamight.

“What are you doing out here?” you asked as you grabbed a fistful of his black mane and looked around for any sign of Bakugou. You knew that he would be losing his damn mind to find that his horse was missing.

You whistled to your dog to keep up as you walked down the road from where Dynamight came from. It was starting to get secluded and thick with trees and other foliage. “Got a summer home?” you asked the stallion, trying to pull yourself out of your rotten mood. “No?” you said aloud again, shaking your head at yourself.

After a good fifteen-minute walk you came up to a house. It was modest, newly built, but definitely a ranch-style home. In the driveway was Bakugou’s huge black truck and what you assumed was Cami’s red sedan.

There was a single pasture and small barn off to the side of the house where you could see a few other horses including Peach who raised her head to look at you. “Well, you probably have a special place to go,” you said aloud again, knowing there was no way Bakugou would place his stallion in with other horses, especially mares.

You looked around again, letting your gaze take in his property, there was a small garden in the yard as well as some chairs by a fire pit. Further in the distance by the barn was another pasture that you could see had a small pond behind it. It was empty and the gate was wide open, “nice place,” you muttered as you headed towards the back pasture.

However, just as you passed the front door it came flying open and you could hear shouts from inside, causing Dynamight to spook and step on your foot. “Oh shit,” you hissed as you pushed on his shoulder to get him to move off.

Suddenly Cami came flying out of the door, hauling a bag behind her as she pointed her finger at Bakugou who was chasing after her. He had clearly just rolled out of bed as he was only in his boxers.

“Don’t you dare!” Cami hissed, “I don’t wanna hear it anymore, Katsuki!”

“Yeah? Then tell me who the fuckin’ guy on your phone was!” Bakugou shouted, his voice cracking at the end.

“I told you, he’s just a friend! If you can’t get that through your fucking thick skull then I’m not sticking around!” Cami shouted as she fumbled for her car keys.

You gulped, trying to hide behind Dynamight who had begun grazing. They seemed to not notice you until your dog made an untimely appearance and shot past you towards Bakugou and Cami, barking and wagging his fluffy tail.

Two sets of eyes snapped to you as you peaked over Dynamights back at both Cami and Bakugou, “Hi, um-”

“Shut the fuck up,” Cami snarled at you, her face turning bright red with anger, “you wanna give me shit about my guy friends, yet you have her show up! Real classy, Katsuki!”

“I don’t know why in the fuck she’s s here!” Bakugou shouted, ignoring your dog who had now run into his house. “Don’t think you can turn this on me, just a fuckin’ friend. Last time I checked you don’t fuck a friend!”

Cami froze, eyes wide as she let her hand drop from the door handle of her car. Her face was now pale and she looked almost sick.

Bakugou narrowed his eyes, “yeah, I saw the photos you sent him and the messages.”

Cami gulped and then shook her head, “you know, fine, I did, but only because I never felt anything real with you Katsuki! You always put your damn job before us! Your ego to be number one? What about me! I was there for you this whole time and you never even saw me!”

You bit the inside of your cheek, you should leave, this was way too personal for you to be hearing. So as they continued to argue and shout you quietly slipped away to the back pasture. It was sort of shocking to see that Bakugou and Cami were in the middle of breaking up, everyone thought they were the perfect couple.

They had met at the championship show last year, she was the photographer for the event and she took his winning photos. You liked Cami too, she was always nice to you and gave Bakugou a hard time for picking on you.

With a sigh you let Dynamight back into his pasture and shut the gate behind you, wincing as you tried to keep weight off your foot. It was probably just badly bruised, hopefully.

You heard him before you actually saw Bakugou racing towards you, now with a pair of sweatpants on. “Don’t think-”

“Shut your mouth, the hell were you doin’ with my horse?” he snapped as he roughly grabbed your shoulder and pulled you around to face him.

You furrowed your brow and pushed his hand off your shoulder, “excuse me? What was I doing? Saving him! He was running down the road about fifteen minutes away from here.”

Bakugou scoffed, he was pissed, but you didn’t miss that his eyes were starting to water, “you think I believe that?”

You laughed bitterly but decided that he was probably just upset that Cami cheated on him and presumably left. The last thing you needed to do was irritate him more, so you took a deep breath and cooled off. That was new for you. “Look, you’re upset and I’m sorry, really. Someone must have accidentally left his gate open and he got out-”

Bakugou lifted his hand and jabbed his finger into your shoulder roughly, “Accident? I don’t have any accidents.”

You pushed his hand away from you again, feeling your frustration grow again, “it’s fine, really, all that matters is that he’s back-”

“You think I’m stupid, huh?” Bakugou began, he was practically shaking in front of you from how angry he was, “probably did somethin’ to him to get back to me.” His gaze cut away from you to his horse.

“Are you kidding? I would never, that’s so low, you think I’d do that?” you said angrily, feeling hurt well up in your chest. Yeah, you were rivals, but there was a little bit of respect between the two of you, and to think he thought you’d stoop low enough to hurt his horse?

“I think you’d do anything to win back your daddy’s ranch after losin’ it,” Bakugou sneered.

“Don’t go there, Katsuki,” you said lowly, your tone dangerous as you watched his upper lip twitch in anger. “Don’t forget where that damn horse of yours came from.”

Bakugou’s anger slipped away as he watched your face contort with hurt. He had overstepped a line, and it was a big one.

Your dad had raised horses. He was fond of roans, and he had given Bakugou one of his colts to start, that colt grew up to be his prized Dynamight.

Which also meant you knew Bakugou well enough from practically growing up with him and Izuku that he meant what he was saying. He blamed you too apparently.

“I’m goin’, sorry about you and Cami,” you said dryly as you pushed past him and whistled for your dog to follow you out of Bakugou property.

—-------

A few weeks had passed since your fight with Bakugou and your motivation for riding was now at rock bottom. Toshinori had to drag you out to the arena to practice. Something you once loved had become something you dreaded.

“C’mon Y/n, just run the pattern, and then we can stop,” Toshinori called from the center of the arena.

You sighed and patted Cowboy’s neck before urging him into a canter. It was too slow, you already knew that, but you didn’t care.

“Pick up the speed, you know this,” Toshinori said as he folded his arms across his chest. He was worried. The next qualifying show was in a week and he didn’t know if you’d be able to pull through. More importantly, he was worried about you. He was glad to see you had cooled your temper but it seemed that your passion for riding had been extinguished too.

He briefly wondered if it was his fault, and he glanced at the sky knowing his brother would be upset that you were slipping away from your dream of being number one.

“Okay, let’s take a break, you need to get out of your head, kid,” Toshinori said as he approached you. “Why don’t you go out with your friends again, maybe see that sleazy bull rider that keeps snooping around here.”

Your lips lifted into a small smile, Kirishima had kept his promise that he was gonna see you after that one night. It was nice to have him as company, but it felt off almost with him like you were trying to put a shoe on that didn’t fit. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Good, just relax, you’re doin’ great. Your hands look great too, okay?” Toshinori added as he pat you on the back.

You nodded and left your uncle to go put up Cowboy and turn him out for the rest of the day. Because it was already later in the day you were able to grab something quick to eat and get ready. Not that you wanted to, really.

It seemed like you blinked and then you were at the bar, squished between Momo and Tsu who were rapidly talking about some new band you had never heard of. You sighed, glancing between your two friends as you took a sip of your whiskey sour. It didn’t taste as good as it usually did.

Were you depressed? It sure felt like it.

“Lookin’ a little down, darlin’,” Kirishima’s voice cut into your dull thoughts.

You looked up to see Kirishima leaning against the table you were sitting at. He was dressed in his chaps and vest, he must be up first for bull riding again. “I’m okay.”

“Bakugou says that your uncle has been callin’ him nonstop, sayin’ that you aren’t riding anymore,” Kirishima said, raising a crimson eyebrow.

You gave him a meek smile, “yeah, just haven’t been feelin’ it, but I’ll come back to it. I always do.”

“Mkay, hate seein’ those pretty lips all pouty,” Kirishima said as he moved around the table to pull you away from your friends, “you gonna watch me tonight?”

You smiled as you rested your hand on his lower abdomen, feeling the rough material of his vest against your fingers. “Of course, sure you’ll be number one, Kiri.”

Kirishima grinned, “oh for sure I'll be, but I think I need a kiss from you for good luck.”

You rolled your eyes and stood on your toes to press your lips into his. He tasted like beer and smoke, probably from the cigar you saw him smoking with Sero earlier.

“Yup, think I’ll go win now,” Kirishima said as he pulled away from you and gave your cheek a pat. He let his gaze rest on a very drunk Bakugou who had been watching with glossy eyes. “Gimme one more though, just for extra luck.”

“Alright,” you muttered as you rolled your eyes, now smiling as you pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

Kirishima grinned looking back away from Bakugou and to you, “thanks, darlin’.”

You smiled as you watched Kirishima saunter through the crowd that parted for him like the red sea. There was no doubt that he carried a lot of charisma and charm, everyone liked him. Except for Toshinori.

“Can you get me another jack and coke when you go back to the bar,” Momo asked as she looked at your empty drink in your hands, “which should be now?”

You snorted, “yeah yeah, next time you’re goin.”

Momo ruffled your hair making you grumble as you walked to the bar. Only a few people were at the bar now since everyone had moved to the arena to watch the bull riders. With a sigh, you slid into an empty seat next to someone who had his head in his hands.

“Can I have a jack and coke and a whiskey sour please?” you asked the bartender over the roar of the crowd.

“Tell your uncle to stop callin’ me,” Bakugou slurred from next to you.

You were actually shocked to see that the drunk guy next to you was Bakugou. Honestly, he looked unrecognizable from beneath his black hat. His red eyes were dull and he had dark circles lining his eyes. Not to mention the at least two-day scruff on his face. “You look terrible,” you said without thinking.

Bakugou snorted, the corner of his lips lifting into an empty grin, “thanks, princess.” He took a sip from his glass, hissing as the alcohol burned his throat.

You blinked as the bartender handed you both drinks, not that you were paying that much attention to them anyway, or that the bull riding was about to start. “Why is Toshinori calling you out of all people?”

Bakugou looked at you out of the corner of his eye, “he’s worried or some shit.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek as you slumped in your seat feeling the dark rain cloud over your head that had been briefly broken up by Kirishima come back. “Oh.”

Bakugou huffed as he turned his body towards yours, “why did you stop ridin’?”

You shrugged, not looking into his eyes, “not really feelin’ it anymore.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Bakugou said truthfully as he took another swig from his glass, “you out of all people ‘not feelin’ it anymore.’”

“Well it’s the truth,” you snapped back, “and what are you doin’? Sitting here and moping?”

Bakugou’s smile slipped from his face, “yeah I am.”

You rolled your eyes as you sucked down some of Momo’s drink, ignoring the announcer who was calling Kirishima’s name.

“You gonna go watch him?” Bakugou said, turning his gaze away from you.

“I probably should,” you said, but it felt like there was almost a rope tying you to Bakugou now, keeping you seated at the bar.

“Sure he’d like that,” Bakugou muttered just loud enough for you to hear. “Have his number one fangirl of the month cheerin’ for ‘em.”

“Of course, you’d have to make a dig at me,” you snapped as you set down both drinks again. “What’s your problem?”

“My problem?” Bakugou laughed bitterly, “I have no problems, princess. You’re the one with all the issues goin’ on.”

You narrowed your eyes, “the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh like no one has noticed the only reason you’ve been pushing so hard is to regain your honor or some shit,” Bakugou answered hotly, his words were slurring together, “the truth is sweetheart is that you’ll never be able to fill your daddy’s boots and you don’t even know it.”

“You fucking asshole,” you hissed, feeling tears well up in your eyes, “you don’t think I know that, Katsuki? I’m painfully aware that I am never going to be as good of a rider as you or Izuku, but at least I tried. At least I didn’t go around gettin’ in people's heads. If you didn’t tell Izuku all those things before his run, maybe he’d still be able to walk.”

Bakugou abruptly stood from his seat, the stool landed loudly on the floor gathering the attention of a few people. “Take that back.”

“No,” you hissed, “just like I know I’ll never get that fuckin’ ranch back or my fuckin’ honor, you know that you had some part in Izuku’s accident.”

This fight had been brewing for years and your rivalry had been running downhill fast into becoming enemies.

“You can be a real fuckin’ bitch, Y/n, you know that? Hope you have a fun time fuckin’ shitty hair, your daddy would be ashamed of you,” Bakugou hissed as he slammed down a twenty and left the bar.

—------

They say the line between love and hate is thin, that was bullshit. How could you ever love someone you hate?

It had been a month since that fight you had with Bakugou in the bar. That night you had gone home alone, crying, as your repressed shame and guilt came to a head, again. It was pretty awful after that, you managed to push everyone away until your close friends insisted on trying to help you, which they did.

Somewhat.

There was a bit of an empty feeling in your chest that no matter how hard you tried you couldn't figure out how to fill it. Maybe it was always empty though and now you were aware of the hole.

At least Toshinori ran your competition for you and got first, it was the horse that was more important after all.

“You ready Y/n?” Tsu said from next to you. She was looking down at you with mild concern. It had taken her some convincing but she had planned a trail ride for your birthday that was in a few days. Maybe she was hoping that you’d regain your spark for riding again.

You nodded, smiling as you got onto Cowboy, “yeah, let's go. Hopefully it doesn’t rain, those clouds look a little weird,” you said as you glanced into the distance. There were large black clouds gathering and the air was starting to get heavy with the scent of rain.

Tsu shrugged, “oh well, don’t you have that little fort you built with Izuku and Bakugou somewhere in these woods? We could go there if it starts raining.”

You furrowed your brows, you had honestly forgotten about the little fort you had built with Izuku and with Bakugou actually. It almost came as a small shock to you that there was a time all three of you were friends as children. You’ve been so angry at Bakugou for so long that it was easy to forget your time together growing up. “Yeah, I can’t really remember where it is though.”

“Well I’m not riding if it’s gonna rain,” Momo said with a huff, looking a little uncomfortable on your uncle's red gelding.

You smiled, “oh you’ll be fine Momo. It adds to the experience, maybe you’ll want to start riding?”

Momo snorted as she adjusted herself in the saddle, “I don’t think so.”

You shook your head as you followed Tsu down the trail. You were riding in the woods that were behind Toshinori’s ranch. The woods were shared by four properties, your dad’s old ranch, Toshinori’s ranch, Crimson Ranch, and Bakugou’s.

It was beautiful really, the forest was full of large old trees, and plenty of creeks, and now that it was spring there were hundreds of wildflowers. You inhaled, letting your shoulders relax as you walked down the trail.

As you continued your ride you were able to see some flashes of your childhood come to mind. A big log you passed was where you and Izuku brought popsicles out to share during a hot summer day, or the creek you crossed was where you and Bakugou waded through the water trying to catch minnows.

When the three of you were closest as friends it was when you were about ten. Toshinori had just taken the three of you under his wing for lessons, and that’s when you remembered that Bakugou’s first horse was Peach.

You blinked as a memory resurfaced.

“Aw c’mon, let me and Izu ride her!” you said loudly pushing some stray hairs out of your mouth.

Bakugou shook his head, looking rather smug up on his new show pony, “no way, Peach only likes me.”

Izuku giggled, patting Peach’s cheek as she nuzzled his shoulder with her mouth, “I think she likes me, Kacchan.”

“She just thinks you stink,” Bakugou snapped as he kicked Peach’s sides rather roughly to get her to move out of the way. However, true to a lesson horse's nature she stood still, looking somewhat annoyed at her tiny rider.

“That’s enough kids,” Your father said as he walked up to the three of you, hauling Izuku’s and your ponies behind him. “We’ve got big things to do today according to Toshi.”

You and Izuku raced over to your ponies and easily got on, barely staying still in the saddles as Toshinori rode out into the arena on his famous stud All Might. All Might was probably the biggest horse you have ever seen and was a deep golden yellow with a mane and tail as white as the clouds above your head.

“You three ready to work?” Toshinori asked, chuckling as the three of you nodded eagerly.

“Y/n!” Tsu’s shrill voice cut into your thoughts.

You blinked and then saw Momo race past you, screaming as she clung to the back of her saddle. “Momo!” you shouted and noticed a trio of deer prancing by. Her horse must have spooked. “Shoot, Tsu try to go around the creek to see if her horse runs home if she falls off, I’ll follow her up to the field,” you said quickly.

You didn’t wait for Tsu to answer before you cantered away from her and after Momo. The wind was starting to pick up as you broke through the tree line and into the field. In the distance, you could see Momo just about to fall off her horse.

“Momo! Don’t hang on, just try to get your foot out of the stirrup!” you shouted at her as you sped up towards her. You winced as Momo hit the ground with a groan. Her horse spooked again and took off into the forest while you got off, rushing to Momo’s side. “Are you okay?”

Momo grumbled, pushing herself up into a sitting position, “just fine, don’t ever take me on a trail ride again.”

You snorted, “I won’t, we’ll go out on the boat instead.”

Momo gave you a wobbly smile as she stood to her feet and brushed dirt and grass off of her jeans, “well I guess your uncle's “bulletproof” horse ran off, do you think he’s lost?”

Your face heated up at her comment, honestly, the horse you put her on was super broke and old. Momo just had bad luck with riding today it seemed, “yeah it’s alright, I’ll find him, you’re more important though.”

“How are we gonna get back?” she asked, looking back behind her. The three of you had been riding for about two hours and the walk back would be pretty miserable.

You frowned as you pulled out your phone and held it up, you had a missed call from Tsu. Your phone buzzed and a text came through from her, she was back near the barn already, and didn’t find Momo’s horse. You sighed, “well I guess you can get up on Cowboy and we can head back.”

Momo nodded and was about to get onto Cowboy when stopped, “looks like we aren’t the only ones out here.”

You looked past Momo to see that Bakugou and Kirishima were racing across the field and they both came to a sharp stop arguing about who had won their race before Kirishima noticed you and Momo. They exchanged some words before heading right towards you. It was almost shocking to see that Kirishima’s draft horse was keeping up with Bakugou.

Upon seeing Bakugou, your rival, well, whatever he is now after a month it felt weird. The words he said to you resurfaced and you bit the inside of your cheek. Your shoulders rose in mild discomfort as they came to a stop in front of you and Kirishima instantly got off his horse and walked towards you and Momo.

“Y’all okay?” he asked with mild concern as he looked both of you over.

“My horse threw me and ran off,” Momo said with a heavy sigh, “we were about to head back.”

“What about the horse?” Bakugou spoke up. He was still on his horse, resting his hand on his thigh while the other loosely held his reins.

“I was gonna head out after him once I got Momo back to the barn,” you said, keeping your gaze away from Bakugou.

“I can take Momo back, my horse can take the extra rider better than Cowboy,” Kirishima said, “plus, he’s gotta win a championship soon anyway.”

You rolled your eyes playfully at Kirishima, “alright, just be careful. Don’t think Momo wants to fall off for a second time.”

Momo scoffed as she looked up at Kirishima’s gigantic horse, “especially not from that height.”

“Don’t worry, Rocky is a good boy, he doesn’t even buck when I try to get ‘em to,” Kirishima said with a hearty laugh as his gaze slid over to Bakugou who had grown quiet, “you should help Y/n look for Momo’s horse, at least before it starts raining.”

Bakugou’s eyebrows shot up in mild surprise. “I guess,” he replied, letting his surprise settle into something you couldn’t pin.

Kirishima smiled and patted the side of your cheek, “don’t let his rotten mood get to ya darlin’. All he needs is a good pick me up, ya know?”

You furrowed your brows in confusion. What did that mean? Honestly, you’d rather go look for Momo’s horse with Kirishima, then you could maybe try to get a better read on what he thought about you, or maybe you were just upset that Bakugou was right about Kirishima’s fangirl of the month comment.

In all honesty, the bull rider had been pulling away from you slowly over the last week or so. It didn’t bug you that much because you weren’t anything, but you were a bit upset at the loss of what could have been.

You sighed as you watched Kirishima help Momo get back on his horse and he followed suit, giving you and Bakugou another one of his famous smiles before setting off back towards the forest.

“I think he went this way,” you said dully as you got back onto Cowboy and pointed towards the forest on the opposite end of the field.

Bakugou nodded, deciding to keep quiet as he rode behind you.

It was awkward, to say the least. There was an angry tension between both of you. You both had said some terrible things to each other that night at the bar and it was obvious both of you felt at least somewhat guilty.

The rain clouds were beginning to gather above your head now, rumbling with thunder and threatening to drop the water within them. You looked up above you, squinting as a few raindrops started to fall, and then the sky opened.

“We shouldn’t ride in this,” Bakugou said loudly above the rain, “can’t have him slip,” he said referring to Dynamight.

As much as you hated to agree with him, he was right. The ground was quickly becoming muddy and both of you needed sound horses. “Okay, should we head back?”

Bakugou shook his head, looking around the woods till something seemed to catch his eye, “nah, look. That shitty fort is still standing.”

You narrowed your eyes, trying to see what he was looking at through the rain. You blinked a few times and then the fort he was talking about came into focus. It was a bit overgrown, but you could stay there till the rain died down a bit.

Bakugou rode past you and led the way to the fort. You could see the log you dragged to tie your ponies at was still there too. As you got closer to the fort you were met with a nostalgic feeling of when times were simpler, and things weren’t so complicated.

You both came to a stop and dismounted your horses and tied them to the log, quickly taking the saddles and pads off before they got too wet. As you hauled your saddle and pad into the fort you noticed the wheel marks in the dirt, Izuku must still visit here, and it made your heart ache.

The fort remained almost unchanged from the last time you saw it. There were dusty blankets stuffed into a corner by some pillows you had stolen from your old house. A feed bucket sat by the window catching stray raindrops while an action figure of a superhero still was seated on the makeshift window sill.

A few of Bakugou’s comics were strewn across the floor, now discolored and torn. You could see your stack of books by your little corner of the fort as well as your favorite stuffy that you thought you had lost.

Without much thought you set down your saddle and moved over towards your corner and grabbed a book from the top of the stack. You ran your fingers down the spine of the book, gathering some dust on the tip of your finger. “This was a good book,” you said aloud mostly to yourself.

Bakugou huffed as he sat down against the wall, crossing his legs at his ankles as he watched you mull around the tiny handmade cabin. “You were always stuffin’ books and shit in the walls. Probably why that old hag at the library hated you.”

You shot him a playful glare as you sat down across from him, “well they were all horse books and I doubt she really cared.”

“Right,” Bakugou said as he watched you thumb through the pages. There was a pause in the conversation before he spoke up again, “I heard your uncle ran for you at the last show.”

You paused, looking up at Bakugou, “he still callin’ you?”

Bakugou shrugged and looked away from you, “no.”

You furrowed your brows, if your uncle wasn’t calling him then who was? Then it struck you. Izuku must have reached out to him. While you’ve been so hyper focused on avoiding riding all together you failed to notice Izuku keeping a watchful eye on you. He always has. “It was Izuku, wasn't it.”

Bakugou nodded, “yeah.”

You sighed as you set the book down and leaned against the wall, the wood creaked under your weight. “What did he say?”

Bakugou ran a hand through his wet hair before looking at you, “he asked me if I knew anything about it, I told him I didn’t. I haven't seen you in a month.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek, a terrible habit, but it was something you did when you were uncomfortable. You were uncomfortable because for a moment it sounded like Bakugou was worried too, just for a second. “Suprised he called you,” you finally said.

Bakugou looked away from you, looking frustrated. “He knows I care at least on some level.”

“You care?” you snorted, “that’s funny.”

Bakugou’s gaze shot back to you and he narrowed his eyes, “of course I care-”

“Don’t tell me you’ve cared this whole time,” you began cutting him off as you started to breathe more heavily. “How could you, after everything you’ve said to me. Don’t even get me started Katsuki-”

“What about what you’ve said!” Bakugou quickly countered back as he stood up, the top of his head was practically flush with the ceiling. “Blamin’ me for Izuku’s accident, you know I never wanted anything to happen to him, or to you!”

“Then why do you act like this,” you said, your voice was starting to shake. “Why did you turn so cold and mean, Katsuki. Once you got that damn horse of yours six years ago when we were seventeen you changed, and not for the better.”

Bakugou’s face was starting to turn red with anger, and his eyes held a certain rage that you were shocked to see. “I’ve alwasy been like this.”

You shook your head, “no you haven’t! Izuku and I, damn it, we missed you,” you admitted, feeling that hole in your chest start to feel a little less empty at your confession. “Izuku still misses you, Katsuki. He still comes here, just look at the damn floor.”

Bakugou looked down to see that Izuku’s wheel chair had left marks in the dirt that's been gathering in the fort for years. “He’s always been a sap,” he said bitterly.

“So fuckin’ what! Are you even listening!” you shouted as you suddenly grabbed at his shirt, “don’t tell me you don’t miss how things used to be, we were friends, rivals too and it was good, it was fun! Then it all went to shit and we started hating each other, why?”

“Why?” Bakugou said, his deep voice was starting to waver too, “because it has always been you two, always.”

You rolled your eyes, “don’t tell me this is just because you were jealous of Izuku and I? That’s bullshit, Katsuki and you know it. We never left you out. In fact we looked up to you, and I know you knew that.”

Bakugou looked away from you again, he was trying to step back, away from you. You were too close.

“Don’t you dare walk away,” you hissed, fighting your tears.

“I’m done,” he said lowly.

“No you’re not,” you snapped as you stepped into his space, “you don’t get to do that. You don’t get to tell me that bullshit and expect that I’ll believe it.”

“Just stop,” Bakugou almost pleaded, “look I’m sorry for what I said at the bar, it was shitty for me to do-”

“Katsuki, please,” you said, your voice was heavy with desperation. You weren’t even sure why you were pushing him so hard for the truth, just hours ago he was your worst enemy but in this fort, your inner child was crying for her best friend.

Bakugou swallowed thickly, his eyes shot back to you then to the wall before they settled back on you again. “I-” he cleared his throat, “I couldn’t be around you, not after your dad died. He gave me that colt -Dynamight- that was his legacy and he should have been yours. Then you lost the ranch and Izuku got paralyzed - it was my fault. If I never got that horse, never won, never tried to get in Izuku’s head, none of that would have happened. I couldn’t be around you, or Izuku. Every time I’d see your faces I felt like complete shit, so I pushed you both away.”

You stayed quiet, watching as Bakugou clenched and unclenched his jaw after confessing to you. It was almost ironic hearing how Bakugou felt because you felt that everything was your fault too. “That’s not your fault,” you said softly, “I lost the ranch, just me.

And my dad loved you, he wanted you to have one of his colts. It’s why he gave Izuku one too. He wanted you to have Dynamight, Katsuki. I think he’d be really proud of how well one of his colts has done, and of you too. I’m sorry I blamed you for Izuku too, I shouldn’t have, I just,” you shook your head, “was jealous I think. Wanted to make you out to be the bad guy, just so I didn’t have to see the truth myself.”

Bakugou nodded, seeming to accept your words. He glanced down at your hand still gripping his damp shirt and then to your tear-stained cheeks, “is that why you quit riding?”

You nodded, “I feel ashamed to even try anymore, I guess.”

“You shouldn’t quit, princess,” Bakugou said softly, “your dad wouldn’t want that, I know Toshinori and Izuku don’t want that either, and I don’t too.”

You gave him a wobbly smile, that hole in your chest was slowly mending itself and you felt lighter. The room seemed brighter too, not as grey as it used to be. “Thank you.”

Bakugou gave you a quick nod and broke his eye contact with you. He felt lighter too, but he still was feeling weighed down by the weight of his thoughts. He moved slow, lifting his hand to pull you away from him, out of his bubble so he could breathe.

You furrowed your brows as Bakugou pulled your hand off of his shirt and looked past you and out the window. It was still raining and turning dark now. Which meant it was going to get colder too.

“Think we’re gonna have to spend the night here,” Bakugou said as he pulled his phone out of his back pocket. It buzzed loudly and he sighed, “flash flood warning, Kirishima also said Toshi’s damn horse showed up just as they got back.”

“That would happen," you said as you walked past Bakugou to look at your horses tied outside. They were both under a tree standing a few feet apart looking somewhat miserable, “think they’ll be okay?”

Bakugou came up behind you, grabbing the top of the old windowsill as he popped his head outside to look at the horses, “they should be, pretty sure we built this piece of shit cabin or fort, whatever the hell it is, on a hill.”

You nodded, that sounded right, “yeah, let's hope.”

Bakugou muttered something under his breath as he took a step back heading to the other side of the small cabin. The floorboards creaked loudly and he grinned, “well we can pass the time with this,” he said as he yanked up the floorboard next to him revealing some alcohol.

“No way, you snuck alcohol in here?” you asked, shaking your head as he opened the bottle of tequila and took a hefty swig.

He hissed at the burn before handing you the bottle, “yeah, snuck some in here years ago, can’t remember what for.” That was a lie, he brought his prom date back to this cabin a couple of times.

You took the bottle and winced as the tequila burned your throat. “That’s terrible, this is the cheap stuff.”

Bakugou chuckled as he took the bottle back and took another swig while he turned on an old camping lantern that was set on a cardboard box. “It’s not too bad.”

“It’s bad,” you countered as you sat back down and pulled out your phone. You frowned, there was no reception for you, guess it was good that Bakugou’s phone got reception. A few minutes of silence passed between you as you shared the old bottle of tequila. It was obviously watered down, but it still gave you a good buzz.

“Cowboy’s got a few foals comin’ this year right?” Bakugou asked, breaking the silence.

You looked towards him and nodded, “a few, Cowboy makes good babies,” you said proudly.

Bakugou snorted, “more like ugly babies.”

“Take that back,” you snapped, “Dynamight has ugly babies, they all have huge heads like him.”

Bakugou frowned, “at least he has better stops than Cowboy.”

“Well Cowboy has a smoother lope than Dynamight,” you shot back

“You’ve never even ridden him,” Bakugou countered.

You snorted, “whatever, I can tell, that’s because I’ve been riding longer than you.”

“Only by a month, plus we all know I’m the better rider,” Bakugou said, but then he froze, eyes wide with worry that he said the wrong thing, hurt whatever small bit of normalcy you both had created here.

If this had happened last month you would have gone for his jugular, seething, and spitting. However, things were different now, you had some answers, and you were more sure of yourself. “Only sometimes,” you said with a small smile, “plus I’m gonna catch up to you, take your spot as number one.”

Bakugou returned your smile, and his shoulders relaxed, “you can try, princess.”

You rolled your eyes, “just wait, got that workshop comin' up next week, and we’re gonna easily take your spot. Then there will be pretty Cowboy foals everywhere you look, Kats.”

Bakugou laughed, it was warm and made you almost forget how cold the small cabin was starting to get now that the sun was gone. He shook his head, letting his gaze meet yours. In the time you two were bantering you and him had moved closer, so close that he could see that your hair was starting to dry at the ends, and that funny shaped scar you had on your collar bone when you got thrown in a gate.

He took another swig from the bottle, feeling it warm him as he took you in again.

You froze, why was he staring at you? You watched his red gaze travel down your body and occasionally flick back to your eyes or your parted lips. “What?” you said, a little breathless.

Bakugou shrugged as he set the bottle down, it was loud, making you jump.

You blinked, still confused, “what?” you asked again. His tanned skin was starting to flush from the alcohol and he ran his hand through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead. You swallowed thickly as an unpure thought ran through your mind, at first you were horrified that you even had a thought about Bakugou like that. But then you looked at him again, and for the first time, you realized how pretty he was.

In fact, he was stunning.

Tall and built, strong from working on the ranch all day, tanned from being in the sun. His hair was soft, and light at the top but his undercut was darker and needed to be shaved down again. There were a few freckles that ran over the bridge of his nose, and his lips were full and pink, and soft.

Lightning struck outside making you jump a little before you turned your attention back to him. He was watching you again, his pupils were blown, almost covering the rest of his red iris’.

“Ya know,” Bakugou’s voice was raspy and low, just quiet enough for you to hear, “I always thought you were pretty.”

That was all it took for you two to rush into each other embrace, he was tugging you onto his lap, running his hands through your hair, across your cheek, down your back. He finally settled on keeping a hand on the side of your jaw and the other on your hip as he pressed his lips against yours.

A whine escaped you as he roughly nipped your lip before he started to lift the bottom of your shirt up. His hands were rough and warm against your bare skin as you lifted your arms up as your shirt slipped past your head, and he threw it off to the side. He ran his hands back down your side and over your bra, practically tearing it in half.

“Katsuki,” you somewhat scolded, out of breath as your now torn bra fell to the ground too.

“It was in the fuckin’ way,” he growled as he roughly grabbed your jaw with one hand and pulled you against him again.

You whimpered into the kiss as you ran your fingers through his undercut, grabbing at his soft hair, and making him hiss. He pulled away from you and started to run his lips down the side of your face along the curve of your jaw, then down your neck.

His hands began to move up your stomach and to your chest, squeezing hard and making you gasp. “What?” he said breathlessly against the side of your neck, suppressing a smile, “that hurt?”

You huffed, you knew he was teasing you. “Shut up,” you said as you moved your hands to pull off his shirt, making him chuckle.

Bakugou yanked off his shirt and tossed it next to yours before moving his lips back to your chest, harshly nipping at your skin, and grinning at your little whines and gasps of pain.

Your hands headed straight towards his belt, and you hastily undid the buckle and pulled it through the loops of his jeans. Once you got it off you were suddenly caught off guard as he quickly wrapped a thick arm around your waist and flipped you both over.

You let out a breath as he roughly yanked your hands above your head and pinned them to the floor. A wicked smile graced your lips as you stared up at Bakugou, “sure you don’t want me to be on top?”

Bakugou huffed as he used his free hand to yank off your belt and pop open the front button of your jeans, “not this time, princess.”

“Not this time?” you countered, raising a brow as you lifted your hips to help him pull your jeans off. “Think this is gonna happen again, huh?” you challenged, hoping he’d get a little rougher with you.

Bakugou bared his teeth, “knew you’d be a fuckin’ brat.” He pushed your hands into the ground harder, making you wince as he promptly threw your jeans and panties to the side, leaving you bare beneath him.

You smiled, about to say something smart back when he suddenly ran two fingers through your slit, making a soft whine escape past your lips.

“You know how I know this is gonna happen again,” Bakugou harshly whispered into your ear as he brought two fingers down to your entrance and pushed them in, making you gasp loudly and your hips jerk up. “Because you’re fuckin’ dripping for me, princess.”

You bit your lip hard as he started to move his fingers, making you squirm. You wanted to be able to touch him too, run your hands down his chest, over his shoulders, feel the muscles in his back ripple.``Lemme go, wanna touch you too” you panted, wiggling your wrists under his palm.

“No,” Bakugou snapped as he pressed his thumb down hard on your clit, hard, grinning when you let out a long keen.

You could feel him grinding into your thigh with every pump of his fingers in you, and you were starting to become desperate, writhing against him. You could feel yourself start to tighten up and you pushed it away, not wanting him to know how good he was with just his fingers, “c’mon,” you hissed, tears starting to well up in your eyes as he started to rub tighter circles around your clit with his thumb.

Bakugou chucked meanly, “aw, you already gonna cum, huh? Can feel ya, sqeezein’ my fingers.”

You shook your head, growing frustrated that he was winning again. There were words just on the tip of your tongue, ready to make him break for you, but he pushed in a third finger and those words melted into another moan.

“Ya sound real pretty for me princess,” Bakugou said as he nipped at your earlobe, “bet you’ll sound even better when I fill you up with my cock.”

“Fuck,” you whined fighting back your orgasm again, but he was too good.

Bakugou was breathing hard, watching your face contort in pleasure as he kept a consistent pace. “You gonna cum, princess?” he asked, his deep voice breathy.

You nodded, grabbing at his hand that was wrapped around your wrists with yours, and digging your nails into his skin.

Bakugou grinned as your hips started to buck and just when you started to call out his name he pulled his fingers out and sat back on his heels.

You let out a frustrated cry, “the hell ?” Your body was shaking as your pleasure started to fade, leaving you frustrated and needy. Instead of answering you, you watched as he ran his tongue along the length of his fingers, and he moaned.

The sound of his voice sent a jolt through you, making you lean up on your elbows, pupils blown as he locked his gaze with you. You were breathing heavily letting your eyes wander down his bare chest, seeing the tattoos that adorned his body, down to his cock straining through his boxers turning them dark with pre. “Katsuki,” you said softly, your voice was thick with want.

He started moving back towards you with a fervor you’ve only seen a few times before. His hands were hot on your hips as he yanked you towards him and began settling down on his forearm in front of you. Another pitiful whine escaped you and he spread your legs, watching your arousal string from your parted thighs.

“Never wanted,” Bakugou panted using his thumb to get a better look at your glistening pussy, “to eat someone out so bad, fuck,” he groaned as he turned his head to bite your inner thigh.

Your legs were shaking around his shoulders as he stretched one hand up onto your stomach, grabbing at your skin, searching for a place to anchor himself as he licked a long stripe up the center of pussy, cherishing the way you shake against him.

Your hands grab at his hair, pulling softly as he starts to run his tongue around your clit, glancing up at you with hazy eyes, loving the way your chest is heaving with each broken breath. The more you whine above him the more aggressive he gets, digging his nails into your skin and taking his time to make you come undone.

“Shit,” you cried, nearly in tears again. He was too good, and honestly, at this point, it didn’t surprise you. “Wish you weren’t-” you let out a sob as he moaned against you, sending vibrations up your spine, “-so good at everything,” you said, barely able to push out the last part of your sentence.

The storm outside was growing more violent, thunder crashed above and you both didn’t notice the little feed bucket by the window was starting to overfill with water.

Bakugou let out breathy whimper when you yanked on his hair, “fuck,” he panted pulling away from you for a breif moment before going back in and sucking on your clit, hard.

You were nearly there, shaking and crying above him. All cares of wanting to beat him were the last thing on your mind. The only thing you could think about was cumming on his face, and squeezing your thighs around him.

“Go on,” Bakugou said, his voice muffled, he could tell you were close, “be a good girl and cum for me, princess.”

It felt like something in you had snapped inside of you and you let out a whine, biting your lip hard as you came. Your nerves were tingling as you shook against him. He held you down, pushing your body into the floor as he continued to suck and lick you through your high.

Once you came down, still sighing and shaking, Bakugou pulled back, licking his lips as he pressed a kiss to your inner thigh. Thunder rattled the handmade fort and then you both started to feel the rain.

“Shit,” Bakugou panted, wiping his eyes as the rain opened a hole in the part of the ceiling that was above you both. “C’mere,” he muttered, easily pulling up your weak body against him as he moved to the other side of the old fort.

You were almost too tired to even care about being rained on, “guess we need to fix the ceiling,” you said, glancing at Bakugou. You were definitely disappointed that the rain cock blocked you before you could have your turn with him.

Bakugou chuckled, nodding as he shrugged on his shirt and tossed you yours. He grabbed his phone checking the time and the weather quickly before standing up to shine a flashlight on your two horses still tied outside. Now they truly did look miserable. “Probably should get some sleep,” he said, clearing his throat a bit.

You nodded, grabbing your panties while he wasn’t looking and pulling them on before grabbing the old blanket in your corner of the fort. There was some sort of tension between the two of you now and it was awkward. Suddenly you wished you could bury yourself in the earth and never look at him again. “Uh, night, Kats,” you said softly, adjusting yourself under the blanket so you could lean back against your saddle.

Bakugou huffed, shaking his head as he settled next to you, “don’t hog the damn blanket, brat.”

You rolled your eyes as you held up a corner of the blanket, letting him scoot in next to you a bit, “happy now?”

“Yeah whatever, night, princess,” Bakugou replied, flipping over and dragging more of the blanket away from you.

—-----

The next morning you both acted like what happened last night did not happen, it simply did not exist. In fact, you both refused to look at each other as you got your horses ready to ride back.

At least you were able to admit that you couldn’t stop looking at him after seeing him in a new light. You felt almost creepy at how intensely you were watching him, watching his biceps bunch as he lifted his saddle onto his horse, or watching his hands. You gulped, his hands were so big and strong, and his fingers looked good covered in your slick, they'd look even better in your mouth-

You shook your head, averting your gaze away from him as you got on Cowboy. You couldn’t get involved with Bakugou, you two were rivals. Yes, you had made up last night, but going beyond anything but rivals, wouldn’t work. It couldn’t.

You needed a rival, someone to push you to work hard, and he hasn’t really been your rival for a long period of time before you two became enemies. Not to mention he really just broke up with Cami, and you frowned. Were you just a rebound?

It was for the best to just assume last night was a moment of weakness, and it wouldn’t happen again.

——-

Part Three!

#tw. death #tw. talks of depression #cowboy!bakugou #tied down

404 notes · View notes

blue-jisungs · 2 years

Text

depths of my heart

summary. when jungwon organised a trip for enha and you, jake’s gf, there was a problem: it was a trip to the lake…

warnings. reader is anxious about her body, fear of water/depths, niki is an asshole and pushes reader into the water, mention of period

words. 1.7k

a/n. it’s slightly based off my experience minus jake as a caring boyfriend part smh <\\3 but!! remember, your body is perfect!! you’re stunning, bestie!! :D

when jungwon announced that he planned a trip and said that your presence will be required, even. but he wanted to keep it a secret, just telling the boys to bring a swimsuit. jake, wanting to keep it a secret as well, didn’t tell you but just packed your swimsuit that was buried way too deeply.

maybe that’s when he should have realised but he scratched it off.

the day was beautiful. clear, blue sky with sun warming your skin pleasantly through the window. you could see the signs of spring awakening - green leaves and colourful flowers blooming.

"are we there yet?" niki whined, waking you up fully from your nap.

"look who woke up" jake grinned, moving the hair from your face "hello there"

"hello" you mumbled, moving your head from his shoulder. jake pecked a kiss on your forehead, smiling against your skin.

"how did you sleep?" he asked, looking into your eyes.

"not bad. although–" you started but we’re interrupted by what, in fact, woke you up

"are we there yet?!" niki yelled

"almost! jungwon said that three times already!" sunghoon brawled, smacking the younger’s shoulder

"ah! sunghoon is hitting me!" niki yelped, dramatically grabbing his hurt arm

"well deserved" sunoo turned his head from his seat and sent them a mischievous smile "oh, y/n woke up!"

"i wonder why" jay, who was also woken up by this bickering from his slumber, sighed

"we’re here!" jungwon announced suddenly and clapped his hands enthusiastically.

you looked through the window and saw an adorable summer house. the place itself was surrounded by small woods but you could see that there are other buildings in the area - probably some bars or other houses.

"it looks so boring" niki mumbled but jungwon didn’t hear that since he already left the car.

after moving your bags to the house and the boys wandered around, you pulled jake into the kitchen, interlocking your fingers with his.

"jake" you smiled, leaning closer to his face and looking around if no one’s there.

it wasn’t like the boys didn’t know you were dating (well, obviously they knew). you were still just a little bit shy in front of them and besides that, the moment they saw you and jake the teasing started.

"yes, y/n?" a wide grin formed on his lips as he moved his hands to your hips, pulling you even closer. because of that your hands moved to his cheeks.

"i saw a nice spot out there. maybe we should sneak out–?" you asked quietly but we’re interrupted by jake’s lips on yours; his way of agreement.

"WHY IS IT ALWAYS ME–?!" niki’s voice interrupted your sweet moment and you moved away. well, at least wanted to because jake put his hands on yours, moving them away from his cheeks yet placing them on his chest. "by the way we’re meeting in the living room, jungwon wanted to say something"

"let’s just go later" jake whispered and grabbed your hand, leading you to the living room.

everyone else was there and sunoo wiggled his eyebrows at the sight of you two. you just shook your head with a smile and sat down.

"as you remember, i asked you to bring your swimsuits. we can go swimming now and later we can make a bonfire" the leader said and niki grinned.

your smile dropped and that could have been the second sign for jake that you… don’t like swimming. but yet again, he scratched it off.

"don’t worry y/n, i packed one for you. i wanted to keep it as a surprise!" jake said with a grin. you looked up at him, the excitement sparkling in his brown eyes and this just made you feel worse.

"great. i’ll go change and i’ll join you, alright?" you cleared your throat and stood up, looking around nervously.

"do you know the way?" jungwon asked, frowning

"no… but there’s a map" you hummed and pointed at the poster that was hanging up in the room. jake looked at you, licking his lips.

"i can wait for you if you–" he started.

"no!" you answered quickly "i mean– i’m fine. i’ll join you soon"

and in a blink of an eye you were gone. as soon as you found the room, you sat at the bed and looked at the bag.

that’s exactly what you wanted to avoid.

it's not like you felt uncomfortable around jake, no. it was just... you disliked swimsuits. the way it hugs your body...

you shook your head and quickly changed into it but put the clothes you were in back on the top of it. you can always say that... you're on your period or... the water is cold... or...

the sound of incoming call made you snap back to reality. you grabbed your phone and smiled at the conact picture of jake - his smiley face next to layla and her pink tongue rolled out. they looked alike on this picture, however that sounds.

"i'm on my way!" you hummed, comming down the stairs and jake laughed

"okay, i was getting worried" he hummed in response

"jake, she's been gone for literally less than five minutes--" niki's voice caught you attention before you hung up.

as you slowy followed the path that led to the lake, your stomach did around 100 somersaults. you just wanted to go back to the house and bury yourself under the covers. or eat something. or play. there are so many fun things to do instead of swimming.

"y/n!" jake called you from water. you couldn't help but smile as he waved to you enthusiastically, wet hair over his eyes. you came up to the lake, crossing your arms on your chest "you didn't change-?"

"no, no i have my swimsuit underneath" you said quietly, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. suddenly you heard a scream and you turned your head just to see sunoo being pushed into water by niki.

you gulped, stomach turning into a knot. you need to move as far away from the water as you can before the same faith is going to meet you.

jake reached out for you, looking up with a smile.

"come on, let's swim" he nodded, encouraging you.

"i-- uh, i don't know... the water is cold" you mumbled, looking away. your eyes widened as you didn't notice sunoo anywhere. did he drown? no, no way. is there something in the water? he got pulled in by something--

sunno suddenly appeared from underneath the water's surface with giggles leaving his mouth and you just noticed how fast your heart was beating.

suddenly you felt two hands on your back, pushing you in.

and as you screamed, closing your eyes, jake frowned ready to catch you. even niki - who pushed you in - heard a heart-breaking hint of fear in your voice.

as you met the water, you couldn't help but kick your feet. the water filled your nostrills. even though you could swim, you just felt verwhelmed with fear that right here, right now - any second - something is going to pull you in and--

two strong hands grabbed you and you felt the air hitting you back again. you started desperately gasping for air and jake put his hands on your back, causing you to wrap your legs around him. your eyes were still closed.

"take me out from here, please, jake" you mumbled through your rapid breaths. your boyfriend felt how your whole body was shaking.

and if looks could kill, niki would be dead.

jake left the water, carrying you to the nearest bench. as he sat you down, he immediately reached for his towel to wrap you in it. jake put his hand on your back and moved it in a soothing motion, grabbing your other hand as you tried to control your breathing.

"i'm sorry" you cried out, sniffling.

"what? what are you sorry for? you got scared, that's-" jake started, moving your wet hair away from your face.

"no, jake. i mean... i did get scared but--" you breathed out slowly, trying to gather your words "forget it, it's stupid"

"i'm sure it's not. i'm worried, y/n. are you okay? you're not hurt, aren't you?" he asked, concern in his voice. jake gently grabbed your chin and skimmed through your face. when he didn't notice nothing concerning, he locked his eyes with you. and he saw fear in them.

"i'm... i'm scared of depths, jake" you sighed, feeling ashamed. jake's eyes softened yet you could see guilt in them.

"oh my god" he gulped, letting your chin go and instead he grabbed your arms, pulling you into a hug "why didn't you tell me?"

"you didn't tell me we're going to swim, dumbass" you tried to loosen up the mood but jake just sighed "hey, don't feel guilty"

"how could i not? i'm literally your boyfriend, i should know that. or realise at least" the brown-eyed boy murmured

"it's not your fault. i should have told you. and niki shouln't have pushed me too" you mumbled and looked to the side, noticing how the youngest one is getting scolded by older members "but, again, he didn't know--"

"y/n stop. he didn't need to know. it was stupid of him to push you anyway. what if you hurt yourself?" jake mumbled and leaned away, locking eyes with you once again "do you want to talk about it?"

"it's... it's fine. i mean i feel bad for ruining your fun. not only because i look ugly in this swimsuit but also because i caused all this fuss because of my stupid fear... but just the thought that this lake is so deep... who the hell knows what's in there and- even if it's checked and nothing happened... still..." you rambled and closed you eyes, shaking your head "see, that's why i turned down that one pool date"

"first of all, you don't look stupid. i haven't seen you in the swuimsuit but i just know you look gorgeous. and second of all... it all makes sense now" jake hummed, grabbing your hand and interlocking your fingers. "y/n?"

"yes?" you looked up into his eyes.

"even if you're scared of the water's depths and you're scared to swim in it... you're not fearing the depths of my heart, right?" he asked, puppy expression on his face.

and he felt a huge relief when you scoffed, smile painting on your lips.

"i'm not" you answered and pecked a kiss on his cheek.

"i'm glad" he grinned "do you want me to stay with you?"

"no, no. go swim, i'll watch you" you nodded and he stood up. before he left, you grabbed his hand "jake, don't be harsh on niki. he didn't know"

jake's heart fluttered and his expression softened. he placed a quick kiss on your forehead and nodded, coming back into the water.

(if not your words, niki probably wouldn't have eaten dinner...)

[ masterlist <3 ]

taglist: @geniejunn

#enhypen fluff #enhypen #enha #enhypen jake #jake enha #enha x reader #enhypen scenarios #enha imagines #enha fluff

341 notes · View notes

lveclouds · 11 months

Text

↬ pairing/characters: choi seungcheol x reader, other members may make appearances/be mentioned

↬ genre/aus: lovers to exes, heavy angst, a tiny bit of fluff (mainly from flashbacks), song au, sad ending, slight college/university au, first love, childhood friends

↬ summary: in which you remember your first and only love and how he broke your heart.

↬ rating(s): m,18+ (see warnings)

↬ tw: heavy swearing, mentions of alcohol/heavy consumption (reader gets a bit drunk), failed love (im so sorry), seungcheol breaks reader’s heart but at least he’s a sweetheart about it, reader needs a hug fr (the other members are her support system), bittersweet/sad ending, heartbreak (im so sorry y’all), mentions of bullying (brief, mainly verbal), brief mention/description of a horrible nightmare (seungcheol has one in a flashback), seungcheol is kind of bad at feelings and starts to pull away from reader, miscommunication (smh), mentions of emotional breakdowns (very, very brief and not very detailed)

wc: 4.2k

↬ note: sooo yeah this is yet another fic that came out of left field oops- anyways this fic is loosely based off ‘half a heart’ by one direction, which is one of my favorite angsty songs ever, like of all time. this fic is going to HURT so prepare tissues and brace yourself, for this is quite possibly one of the saddest things i have ever written. also, did i search for a ‘sad one direction songs’ playlist on spotify to write this? maybe. also yeah the summary sucks because i can’t write them to save my life <3 this is also my first scoups fic :)

tears stung your eyes as you sat in the front seat of your car, knees tucked into your chest, heavy raindrops pelting the windows. you clutched a worn, gray hoodie to your chest, the faint smell of sage and rosewood invading your senses. it’d belonged to your first love, choi seungcheol. he’d lent it to you after a drunken asshole had spilled his drink on your dress during a night out, insisting that it looked better on you than it did him after you’d tried to give it back a few days later.

the mere mention of his name was enough to make your heart ache. your body shook with soft sobs as images of his gorgeous smile flashed across your mind. the memory of his gentle touches and kisses were burned into your skin like a brand.

and if you closed your eyes, you could still picture him beside you, lacing your fingers with his as he drove, humming softly to whatever song was playing on the radio, see the utter fondness and adoration in his eyes whenever he looked at you, cleaving your heart into two, never to be made whole again.

loving seungcheol had been as easy as breathing, and a decision that you would never regret. he was kind, selfless, and loved with all his heart. and while seungcheol wasn’t overly affectionate, he showed it in other ways, whether it’d be through small acts of service or words of affirmation.

he would always comfort you after a shitty day of classes or work, holding you in his strong arms as you sobbed into his chest. seungcheol was unfailingly patient with you, never pushing you to talk about anything if it was too difficult to do so, and always gave you space and time whenever you needed it.

it’d been enough to convince you that seungcheol would be a permanent presence in your life. hot tears scalded your cheeks, blurring your vision, and a helpless whimper escaped you, clutching the hoodie tighter, like a lifeline. the day things had ended would forever haunt you, for it was when your entire world had collapsed around you.

seungcheol hadn’t lashed out or screamed at you like you’d thought he would. instead, he had simply given you a sad, teary smile, holding you flush against him, pressing a soft kiss onto your hair. you had sobbed into his shirt, curling your fingers in the soft fabric, the comforting scent of rosewood and sage hitting your nose.

“i’m sorry love, i’m so sorry that things between us had to end this way.” “then why? why don’t you stay?” “you deserve better than me.” and with one last kiss to your cheek, soft and gentle, he left, taking your heart with him.

the days that followed were miserable, and you would’ve likely spent the next few months holed up in your dorm, curled up in your bed, if it weren’t for your friends, dokyeom, joshua, vernon, hoshi, woozi, dino, seungkwan, mingyu, minghao, jun, wonwoo, and jeonghan. they showed up to your dorm, with mingyu threatening to break the door down if you didn’t let them in.

dokyeom, joshua, woozi, and vernon brought all your favorite snacks and offered to watch all your favorite movies and animes, even the sad ones. hoshi and jeonghan held you when thoughts of seungcheol managed to worm their way into your mind, running gentle hands through your hair and whispering comforting words in your ear.

dino and seungkwan took you out to your favorite karaoke place, singing all the sad love songs and angry break up songs, and even treated you to some korean barbeque afterward. wonwoo took you on a shopping spree to your favorite local bookstore, insisting to pay for any books you wanted.

minghao and jun listened to you whenever you needed to rant about how hurt and heartbroken you were about how things had ended between you and seungcheol, offering their advice every now and then. they both hated seeing you so distraught, especially over a man you had bared every piece of your soul to.

mingyu insisted on making you home-cooked meals, filling your fridge with tupperware laden with your favorite comfort foods. he made sure that you ate at least three times a day, and that you didn’t starve yourself, not even for one second. “i refuse to see someone i care about spiral, and if cooking you a million home-cooked meals and the others tease me for wearing a frilly apron is what it takes to get you to eat, then so be it.”

you truly didn’t deserve your friends, especially because they took it upon themselves to walk with you to and from your classes, glaring daggers at anyone who snickered upon seeing your bloodshot eyes and rumpled clothing or seemed they would ask questions about why a certain someone wasn’t by your side.

seungcheol had been your support system for as long as you could remember, even before you’d become a couple. you’d been childhood friends, having lived next to each other in the same small neighborhood for years.

your families had been very close, always inviting one another to parties or for dinner. you’d met him on a sunny day in march, when the spring flowers were in full bloom, and that day had arguably been the best day of your life, for you’d met your soulmate, your best friend.

elementary school had been a blur, though you vaguely remembered how seungcheol was fiercely protective of you, threatening to beat up the boys who thought you were weird and way too quiet. he had even gotten into a fight with one boy after he’d insulted you, calling you a freak, which had landed him in detention for weeks.

high school was eventful, as it was the time you and seungcheol were discovering what you wanted to do with your future, as well as experiencing your first crushes and heartbreaks. during your sophomore year, seungcheol had comforted you after your first breakup, when your then boyfriend had broken up with you over text, stating that he had found someone else.

he had come over to your house, bringing you all your favorite snacks and watching the cheesiest and trashiest romcoms you could find on netflix, letting you sob into his shoulder and running gentle fingers through your hair.

“that asshole didn’t deserve you, not for one second. he’s a fucking coward for dumping you over text, and a complete and utter idiot for even considering breaking up with you in the first place. you’re beautiful and kind and the most genuine person i know, and anyone who doesn’t appreciate you for who you are can go to hell.” seungcheol had said when you’d broken the news to him the day after the breakup, immediately taking you into his strong arms and holding you close.

and, when college began, you began to fall in love with your best friend. you couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment you realized that your feelings for seungcheol were anything but platonic. perhaps it was when you started noticing the broadness of his shoulders and the way the muscles in his arms flexed every time he picked up something, or how a simple smile from him was enough to send your heart racing.

ultimately, though, it was how seungcheol was always there to support and comfort you in any way he could, always going out of his way to make sure you ate properly, dropping by your dorm at ungodly hours at night, holding plastic bags full of snacks or plenty of takeout boxes, insisting that you eat something before passing out. and, no matter what, he always listened.

you’d had a habit of rambling, especially when you were stressed or angry, and seungcheol would listen attentively and carefully to every single word, even if it was complete gibberish. he’d always lend you a shoulder to cry on, and was always there to wipe away your tears with a tissue or the pad of his thumb, light green eyes soft.

you had fallen in love with him, slowly, then all at once, and despite your previous reservations and doubts about if dating your best friend was a good idea, you knew that keeping your feelings bottled up would only make you miserable.

your confession had been nothing short of emotional, with your heart aching impossibly and tears streaming down your face, out of fear that seungcheol would scorn you or be disgusted. instead, though, he had pulled you into the gentlest kiss of your life, a light touch of lips to lips, and his hand cupping your cheek tenderly.

you’d felt light, as if a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulders, for seungcheol hadn’t pushed you away or scorned you. he was the only person that made you feel all those emotions and, as clichè as it was, the only one you felt safe and accepted with.

like most new relationships, yours had felt straight out of a fairytale. seungcheol was loving, attentive, and extremely caring. and, every time you were apart, he would send you a daily selfie, sending you texts such as: i miss you:(( or make sure to eat today love, okay? and, if he was feeling particularly sappy, god, you’re so fucking beautiful, i wonder how i got so lucky.

and sure, some of his texts were extremely cheesy and a bit cringe, but they made you smile all the same. seungcheol always made sure to tell you how much he adored you, and, every night, he would ask to facetime just so he could see your face and say good night.

when seungcheol would spend the night at your dorm, he would insist on making you dinner, gently shooing you away from the kitchen when you’d tried to help. “i appreciate you wanting to help love, but all i want you to do is sit on the couch and relax, okay? you can even take a nap if you want, i know how exhausting classes can be. i’ll wake you up once dinner’s ready.”

you sobbed, burying your face into your hands. memories of you and seungcheol sneaking kisses whenever he’d stop at a red light when driving, a warm hand on your thigh, him brushing your hair from your face; the way his eyes crinkled every time he smiled, the loud, boisterous laugh that would spill from him after you’d tell him a terrible joke, light green eyes fond, and the way seungcheol’s kisses had ruined you for anyone else, flashed across your mind.

even now, you weren’t sure when things had gone wrong. of course, your relationship wasn’t perfect, with your fair share of petty fights here and there, but nothing too major. seungcheol was also a very vocal person, and if he was sad or angry with you, he would communicate as much.

he could also get a bit possessive and jealous at times, especially when you had started to become close with mingyu and his friends. when you had met mingyu, it was during your junior year of college, and after bonding over music, you had become fast friends. then, after a few weeks, mingyu had introduced you to his friends, and the rest had been history.

while seungcheol was happy that you had people to support and look after you when he wasn’t around, he still had had moments of jealously, sulking and pouting when you would laugh at something mingyu or any of his friends said or when you got distracted by a funny video they would send you.

though, he usually stopped sulking and pouting after you showered him with kisses or allowed him to use your lap as a pillow whenever you were watching tv or movies with him, carding your fingers through his hair. there were other times where he would purposefully flex his muscles around mingyu, which was a sight that never failed to amuse you, especially because the aforementioned male was a lot taller and a bit more muscular.

“y/n, why does your boyfriend always look like he wants to murder me every time i so much as breathe?” mingyu had asked you one day over lunch. “it’s kind of hilarious, if i’m being honest.” wonwoo had added, dark hazel eyes glittering with mirth. you had shrugged, struggling to keep a blush from forming on your face.

“i don’t know, i guess it’s because he’s not used to our friendship yet. but he doesn’t get angry or anything like that when i tell him that i’m spending time with you guys.” “good,” minghao had said after a long stretch of silence, “i don’t have to beat him up then.” at that, seungkwan had snorted. “you can’t even hurt a fly, much less a living, breathing, human.” “i can still try.” the former had mumbled.

seungcheol had always been a private person, keeping to himself most of the time, and was pretty guarded, even with you. it’d taken a long time for him to open up about his struggles and worries, but you never pushed. you’d waited for him to openly express such things, and it had been worth it.

throughout your relationship, you had never really seen him cry, for he was usually the one comforting you. that had all changed when seungcheol had called you at an ungodly hour at night last spring, asking if he could spend the night at your dorm. “hi love, i’m sorry if i woke you, i know it’s late.” he had said, voice notably strained, as if he were holding back tears.

“no, it’s okay, what’s wrong?” a long pause, and then: “i woke up from a nightmare and i’m feeling so unsettled. is it okay if i spend the night with you, love?” your heart had ached at how vulnerable he sounded. “of course, do you need me to get anything?” “no, i just need you.”

he’d shown up on your doorstep thirty minutes later, light green eyes red-rimmed from crying, tears streaming down his face, and your heart had ached for him. seungcheol had all but thrown himself into your arms, sobbing into your neck, and you had never seen him break down, not like this.

the rest of the night had been spent with seungcheol in your arms, rubbing comforting circles on his back and carding your fingers through his soft, dark hair. “do you wanna talk about it?” you’d asked after a while, when his sobs had subsided and his breathing had evened out. “it was horrible, love, absolutely horrible. and fucking terrifying.” your heart broke at how small and helpless he sounded.

“what was it about? you don’t have to tell me if it makes you uncomfortable.” seungcheol had shaken his head resolutely. “no, i don’t want to keep this from you. besides, i know that if i keep this to myself, i’ll go fucking insane.”

“it was awful, and i don’t know exactly what caused it, but all i know is that i was standing on the sidewalk, and you were standing on the other side, looking radiant in that light blue dress you love so much, and you stepped out to cross the street, and-god, it f-felt so real, and it was so fucking terrifying.”

with every shaky syllable, every word that came out of his mouth, you had felt your heart slowly breaking into fragments. it’d been enough for tears of your own to form, and you didn’t bother to keep them from falling.

“it just.. the dream felt so real.” seungcheol had whispered, voice shaking, and you couldn’t help the choked sob that escaped you, holding him closer to you, sobbing into the crook of his neck.

your heart ached as you remembered how after that night, he had started to become closed off, and pull away from you, little by little. he’d pull away everytime your fingers so much as brushed against each other, and even flinch when you tried to kiss his cheek.

your dates became tense, awkward, and rushed, even to the point where you would be lucky just to get a few minutes alone with him. and whenever you noticed that he seemed to be bothered by something, seungcheol would refuse to speak to you about it, and became even more guarded than usual.

it was as if that fateful night had completely changed the dynamic of your relationship. sure, he hadn’t been very open and expressive with his emotions before, but he would always let you know if something was bothering him. you had tried not to resent seungcheol for it, for you knew that the nightmare was something that had truly shaken him, and was likely the reason why he had suddenly become distant.

when you’d finally gathered up the courage to confront seungcheol about his strange behavior, you expected him to lash out and yell at you for being so nosy. much to your shock, he had looked at you, light green eyes full of regret.

“i’m sorry, love, i know that’s a terrible fucking apology, and definitely not the one you deserve, but hurting you was the last thing i wanted to do, and that’s exactly what i did. and i don’t think i’ll ever be able to forgive myself. so, shout at me, argue with me, break my heart. just don’t give up on me.” those words alone had been enough to erase any lingering anger you had, and seungcheol had embraced you afterwards, holding you close while you sobbed into his shoulder.

outside, the heavy rain had slowed to a gentle downpour, turning the world into mist and water, and you sniffled, hugging your ex-boyfriend’s hoodie to your chest, relishing in the comforting scent of sage and rosewood that somehow still hadn’t faded away.

you felt absolutely pathetic, sobbing and lamenting over someone you’d broken up with four months ago, but you couldn’t help it. choi seungcheol had been your first and only love, and you weren’t sure if you could ever fully love someone else, even after he had broken your heart.

a bitter laugh spilled from your lips, unprovoked, and you fought the urge to scream in frustration. seungcheol had ended things because he thought he wasn’t good enough for you, or some bullshit like that. a small, dark part of you believed that the real reason he had ended things was that he just simply didn’t want to be with you anymore, from the way he had purposefully distanced himself.

at the time, you didn’t even realize that seungcheol hadn’t told you why he had distanced himself from you in the first place, and that alone was enough to ignite the small flame of resentment and anger in your veins. you hated thinking about him, for only the memories were too painful to recall, and it made you want to scream in frustration.

you were glad that your friends were not around to see you in such a hapless state, for they were all fast asleep at the airbnb you’d rented for the summer. as much as going on vacation with them was painful, as it was something that you and seungcheol did quite often in the past, it was nice to get away from seoul for a little while, even if it was temporary. it’d been joshua who suggested the impromptu trip, insisiting that it would benefit you to be away from home for a few weeks.

and, in a way, joshua had been right. the first few days of the vacation had been peaceful, relaxing, even, and you’d been able to spend time with mingyu and the others without thinking of the man who had ripped your heart into pieces.

though, there were also nights like these, ones where you were unable to sleep, and your thoughts got the better of you, and the memories of seungcheol were too much to bear, and you snuck out quietly in the middle of the night to get some air.

you knew that your friends wouldn’t be angry if you woke them late at night, especially if you couldn’t stop thinking about him, but you had noticed the dark circles under their eyes, tired from the long hours of traveling. so, you decided that not waking them would be for the best.

besides, you weren’t sure if you could bear to see the pitying and worrying looks from them if they knew you were still having emotional breakdowns over someone who had hurt you so deeply. you hastily wiped away a tear you weren’t even aware had escaped, refusing to waste your tears on a failed relationship.

suddenly, your phone rang, the shrill sound cutting through the thick silence of the car, and you nearly jumped at the sudden noise. sighing, you answered the call, not bothering to check the caller id. “y/n?” a deep voice said, and your stomach immediately coiled with dread.

“wonwoo?” “where the hell are you? we all just woke up and saw you weren’t in your bed, and you weren’t picking up your phone, and now everyone’s worried sick. seungkwan’s practically on the verge of a heart attack right now, and mingyu considered sending out a search party for you, and minghao had to talk him out of it.”

worry and fear was evident in his voice, and you could hear faint shouting and whispering in the background, and immediately, tears pricked your eyes. “i-i’m s-sorry for disappearing on all of you in the middle of the night, but i-i couldn’t sleep, and i didn’t w-want to wake any of you because i knew how exhausted everyone was from the drive over here and-”

“y/n”, wonwoo began, tone gentle but firm, “we got plenty of rest these past few days, and you’re our friend, don’t be afraid to wake us up at ungodly hours of night. none of us give a shit if you do, even if you tell us to go get you ice cream from the nearest convenience store because you’re having a late night craving. we want to take care of you, and you will never be a burden to us. you have nothing to apologize for. just come back to us, yeah?”

god, you really didn’t deserve your friends, not for one second. “o-ok.” wonwoo let out a sigh, the sound more relieved than anything else. “be careful, okay?” “i-i will. a-actually, wonwoo, c-could you stay on the phone with me until i get home? i-i don’t want to drive in silence, and hearing your voice will make me feel safe.” you mumbled, heat flooding to your cheeks, glad wonwoo couldn’t see you blush. “of course, love, anything.” he replied, and, strangely, the use of seungcheol’s old nickname for you didn’t cause your heart to ache like it normally did. hearing it from wonwoo was almost comforting.

you smiled, put your phone on speaker, and placed it on the center console. as you drove back to the airbnb, wonwoo’s deep, soothing voice filling the small space of your car, you felt lighter than you had in weeks, and all thoughts of your first love vanished from your mind. maybe, just maybe, i’m finally moving on.

↬ a/n: damn okay i did not expect this fic to be this long lmao anyways yeah that was depressing :’) my next fic will definitely not be as depressing, i swear skdfjsljldjf i have missed posting fics regularly omg it’s been so long :’) last summer, i posted so many fics and GOD i hope i can do that again this year. writer’s block has hit me so hard these past few months and i hate it :(( like i just wanna write :(

sooo yeah i hope you all enjoyed the angst fest that was this fic, and my next one should be the hockey! player mingyu fic i’ve been working on for like months lmao its at 10k and counting right now so it’s probably going to be a whole book at this point slkjdflkjdkjf also i’ve been trying to accomplish my goal of reading 100 books this year, so if any of you have recommendations, pls send them my way <3 (p.s. i like just about anything to do with romance or fantasy)

i love you guys, and i hope everyone is having an amazing summer so far <3 !

tagging: @playmetheclassics , @skyjoong , @adulttoast , @sketchguk , @taeyo95 , @hong-jisoo , @shuadotcom, and anyone else who wants to read this fic <3

#mine #seventeen #seungcheol x reader #fic: half a heart

28 notes · View notes