His | 2 | Yandere Bakugou X Reader

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Aftershock

Kyoutani Kentarou x female reader

w.c 3.1k

tw: implied non-con, violence, unhealthy relationships, yandere themes

There’s an odd sort of calm you reach, half propped up in the hospital bed. 

Or maybe it’s not so much a calm as it is a numbness, because the overwhelming terror and panic have settled, and there’s an anger there, building slowly, simmering away beneath the surface – but you can’t touch it. Can’t feel it.

As though it’s separated by a thin pane of glass. Fragile, fractured, held back until that one tiny nudge shatters it entirely. 

The dam will break eventually, that’s an inevitability – but for now it holds. 

Barely. 

The officer who took your statement left ten minutes ago, the nurses ducking in and out of your room– well, bay really. Little more than cheap, plastic curtains pulled around the bed for the smallest semblance of privacy.

You’ve got nothing left to give, and the drugs they’ve loaded you up on take care of any pain.

So yeah, numb fits. 

When the doors to the ER ward are thrown open and a familiar, angry looking blond storms in, you can’t summon anything beyond a faint whisper of irritation, and even that fades before it can truly take hold of you.

Kyoutani ignores the nurse who approaches him, scanning the room until he spies you tucked away in your bed on the opposite side of the ward. 

The moment your eyes connect, he stiffens. It’s a rare thing to catch him so unguarded, but in the space of mere seconds, eyes wide and jaw lax, you physically see the barrage of emotions that slam into him, rippling across his features like shockwaves. Rage and fury and pain, guilt, relief, one after the other.

… And none of it reaches you. 

You wonder how it is you must look right now, bruised and battered, swallowed up under fluorescent lights, the harsh sterility of the hospital ward. 

Snapping himself out of it, you say nothing as he stalks towards you, yanking a chair from a nearby bay and dragging it to your bedside to sit, hunched over as close to the bed – to you – as he physically can. 

There’s no hiding the damage, so you don’t bother to try; fractured wrist, the swelling on your cheek from where you’d been slapped so hard your bones had sung with pain, the scrapes on your knees they’d plucked glass and gravel out of – bandaged now, not that it seems to make much of a difference. 

There’s a thin cut on your throat from where the knife had bit in, and you suppose you should be thankful that your clothes – torn and bloodied as they were – have been taken away, either to be disposed of or as evidence, you neither know nor have the capacity right now to care.

And with every second that stretches in uncomfortable silence, with every mark, every bruise, all the blood they hadn’t cleaned off and the hollow, haunted look in your eyes – seething, murderous rage blisters and burns beneath his skin, seeping out of every pore in his body until the air’s thick enough to choke you with it. 

He takes your face in rough, calloused hands – gentle, he always tries to be gentle – nostrils flaring, jaw tight. Yet he seems to be at war with himself, lips parting only to struggle to find words that won’t scare you – words that won’t shatter you right now.

But Kyoutani’s never been good with words at the best of times.

You reach up, hand enclosing around his wrist, prying it away from your face. His features soften then, a hint of real worry bleeding through the rage.

He lets you tug his hand away. 

“They said,” you voice is hoarse. Stiff, almost robotic. “I was… I was a message.”

The muscle in Kyoutani’s jaw twitches, the hand you’d pulled away tightening into a white knuckled fist. Normally, you’d try to calm that building rage, soften his harsh edges and coax him back to you. 

Somehow, somewhere along the way, that had become your sole responsibility, to act as the buffer between Kyoutani and everyone else. A temper to those baser, violent impulses. 

Why? Why was it your responsibility to tame him, when you hadn’t asked for any of this. One of his friends – though friend was probably too strong a word – laughed the first time he’d seen it in action, your hand on Kyoutani’s arm, the other cupping his jaw, begging him to calm down.

‘And here I thought our Kyoken was the one holding your leash. How interesting.’

His eyes had gleamed when he said it. 

It was like everyone else had just decided they preferred it that way; you made Kyoutani more palatable, and that made everything else easier, so why should it matter whether you wanted the job or not?

And what good did it ever do? At best, you’d stop him from launching himself across the bar at some guy who spent a second too long staring at your tits, at worst–

“Did you bring the clothes like they asked?”

Shoulders hunch, his gaze darting guiltily away for the briefest of moments, “… No.”

Of course not. Because the moment the nursing staff told him that you were here, that you were hurt, everything else would’ve been white noise. 

You breathe in. Out. Smooth down the starched, scratchy sheets. “I can’t leave without clothes, Kentarou.”

“I know that!” he snaps, only for his cheeks to darken with a blush. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’ll– here, take this.”

He’s shrugging out of his leather jacket, pushing it into your lap and you feel that niggling irritation bite at you once more. There’s a voice in the back of your head that tells you that he’s stressed and upset, that he’s trying.

You don’t care. 

The beeping of machines around you, a steady thrum of noise – nurses and doctors darting around, patients coughing, a baby wailing for its mother. Every sound grating on your already frayed nerves, and Kyoutani’s still trying to push his jacket on you – like you can just walk out of here wearing that and nothing else, like that’s supposed to fix any of this, and in an instant that fragile little bubble you’ve wrapped yourself in, tamping down the hysteria bubbling away underneath, splinters.

“I don’t need your stupid jacket, I need my fucking clothes!”

Kyoutani jerks a little, wide eyed. The people closest – patients and their visitors in the nearby beds, the doctor who treated you when you arrived and the nurses hovering around the admin station turn to stare, the sharpness of your voice rising above the routine clamour of the busy ER.

Most glance away quickly, but it makes no difference. 

Your own cheeks burn in embarrassment, a thick lump settling in your throat as hot tears well and glisten unshed. You blink them back viciously, fighting to keep from letting those cracks shatter you entirely – again – right here in front of everybody, in front of him.

You won’t be some spectacle for them all to see. 

“Please, I need my clothes so we can go. I just want to go home, okay?” you say, the words little more than a choked whisper. If anything, that only serves to heighten the panicked look in his eyes. 

He nods, a short, sharp jerk of his head. “Yeah. Yeah that’s– I won’t– ‘m not leaving you, but– I’ll get ‘em.”

In the end, he calls one of his friends to do the job, a tall, dark haired man you vaguely recognise. He passes Kyoutani a duffle bag full of what you can only assume is an assortment of your own clothes, eyebrows knitting together in a distinct frown as he takes in your condition. Whatever thoughts he has, he keeps them to himself, and you find yourself grateful for that small mercy. 

When he turns back to Kyoutani, though, something heavy – significant – passes wordlessly between them.

Kyoutani, talkative as ever, thanks him with a nod, “I owe you one.”

Iwaizumi – it is Iwaizumi, right? – simply nods in return. His eyes flicker back to you, another assessing once over, “Look after her, yeah? We’ll talk later.”

And then he’s gone too. 

They let you go and get dressed. Kyoutani’s seen you naked more times than you care to count. Sick as a dog, drooling in your sleep and drunk before, and yet there’s something distinctly humiliating about having to rely on him to dress yourself because your legs are still too shaky to stand properly and trying to pull on the jeans Iwa brought you – much less button them – with a broken wrist is nearly impossible. 

And even if it weren’t, you doubt he’d be willing to let you out of his sight right now. 

It’s the quiet that fills the space between you, the way he goes about helping you – glancing up to check each time he touches you. Hesitant, because there’s no hiding how you flinch every time he moves too quickly, how quick you are to have his hands off you. 

Kyoutani’s a lot of things; aggressive, hot tempered, volatile, stubborn. Quick to lash out and violent when he does so. He’s not stupid, though. 

The Doctor speaks to you again before you leave, passes you packets of painkillers with instructions to take two every six hours and tells you to come back in six to seven weeks time to assess removing your cast. 

He also hands you a card with the name and phone number of a psychologist neatly printed in black lettering. “She specialises in cases like yours. It might… help.”

No, Kyoutani isn’t stupid. 

He says little on the drive back to your apartment, a white knuckled grip on the steering wheel. 

Or at least, you’d thought he was driving you back to your apartment. Ten minutes in, and you realise the route he’s taking doesn’t lead home, but to his place. Home, you’d said. You wanted to go home.

Kyoutani’s apartment, for all the time you spend there, has never been home. 

It’s not worth the effort of arguing with him right now, so you bite your tongue. With an arm anchored around your waist, pointedly ignoring your attempts to push him away and do it yourself, he guides you inside. 

Locks the door behind him, setting you gently onto the couch. 

A beat of silence passes. 

Kyoutani hoarsely clears his throat, rounding on you. “Tell me what happened,” he demands. “Everything.”

Tell him so he can go and find every last one of them that dared lay a finger on you. Tell him so he knows exactly how long he should drag it out for. An eye for an eye, right?

You’d made your mind up hours ago, when you were shakily recounting your attack to the police officer who found you. Or maybe it was before that, even – lying half naked, shivering and bloody and sobbing amidst the filth of that alleyway, every tiny movement bringing a fresh wave of pain.

Maybe you’d made your mind up months ago, you were just too much of a coward to do anything about it. 

You breathe in. Breathe out. 

“I’m done, Kentarou.” Lifting your chin, you meet those burning, honey darkened eyes. “We’re done. I won’t do this anymore, I– I can’t.”

His silence is thunderous. You force yourself to keep going.

“Tonight… shouldn’t’ve happened. You– you’re not good for me, but I thought–” a harsh, slightly hysterical laugh bubbles up, surprising both of you. It sounds more like a sob. “I thought that if I left you’d get angry and you’d– you’d hurt me, kill me, even, but I’m gonna end up dead either way, right? It’s a lose lose situation.”

Kyoutani takes a step towards you then, and you flinch back into the couch, shaking your head. “No, no! Don’t, I just– I want to go home, Kyoutani. I wanna go home!”

You’re hyperventilating now, and this time he doesn’t stop in his pursuit to reach you. “You are home,” he mutters. “You’re not going anywhere.”

He pulls you onto his lap, half cradling you while you shudder, sobbing into his shoulder. 

He’ll only ever hear what he wants to.

“You’re safe here, I’ll fix it, okay?”

Fix it, as though beating the men who attacked you to a violent, bloody death will somehow magically make things right between you.

And you can picture it clear as day; he’ll hold you til the tears subside, til exhaustion and grief wear you down and you don’t fight it when he carries you into the bedroom. He’d want to stay, to keep watch after coming so close to losing you entirely, but his anger, as always, would win out.

He’d wait until you were fast asleep, dead to the world, before locking you up like a princess in a tower to go and chase down those who’d hurt you. You wouldn’t tell him the details, not the names you’d overheard or the descriptions of your assailants. It wouldn’t matter. Either he knew exactly who’d done it and why, or he’d take that jagged, snarling rage of his and lash out at anyone he’d ever pissed off just in case they’d be stupid enough to try coming after the one thing – one person – Kyoutani Kentarou gave a fuck about.

Tomorrow you’d wake, and maybe with a clearer head you’d try to bring this up again. Or maybe you’d just go; call your sister or one of your friends the first opportunity you get – you haven’t spoken to any of them in months, would any of them actually pick up? – to come and take you away, someplace safe. You could change the locks on your place in the short term, look for a better apartment somewhere on the other side of the city, maybe.

Maybe.

The smell of cigarettes clings to him, the leather of his jacket, the same one he’d tried to push onto you back at the hospital, his aftershave, woodsy and spiced. Once, those familiar scents might have been a comfort to you. Now, they’re as suffocating as the rest of him.

The Mad Dog’s whore, they’d called you, spitting it at you while they kicked and kicked and kicked. 

“It’s your fault.”

The words come quietly, barely more than a whisper, yet they ring through his apartment like the tolling of a bell. 

Your fault, your fault, your fault.

With your face buried in his chest, you can’t see his expression change but oh, you feel the way his body tenses like a live wire. The rabid snarl he physically has to bite down on lest it rip through the room and expose him for the animal he is. 

And there’s an unspoken warning in the way his grip tightens, unintentionally crushing you against him. He’s hurting you, your fractured wrist and bruised ribs crying out as Kyoutani fights to keep that hair trigger temper of his in check. 

Yet the words wouldn’t sting if they weren’t true, and in that moment, you know you’ve struck your mark. It’s almost worth it, a bittersweet, biting victory amidst overwhelming defeat. And drunk on that vindictiveness, too far gone to back out now and desperate to inflict a fraction of the pain you’re feeling back onto him, you double down and twist the knife.

“You might as well have been the one holding me down, ‘Tarou. You did this to me, and I’ll never stop hating you for it.”

He does snarl then, ripping himself away from you like your very touch burns. His face is alight, fury radiating off of him, teeth bared, eyes near feral. This is the Mad Dog everyone else sees, the monster – rabid and dangerous – that he tries and fails to hide beneath clumsy tenderness and affection.  

Physically shaking with fury, hands flexing in and out of fists, he stares you down, each breath leaving him in heaving, ragged pants. Kyoutani towers over you, broad and muscular, savage and utterly enraged.

And in the thick, palpable tension, in the seconds that stretch and warp, passing like molasses from one moment to the next, you wonder if he’s going to take a swing at you. Wrap his hands around your delicate throat and throttle you. Kill you, even. He certainly looks angry enough. 

Instead, after what feels like an eternity, Kyoutani snorts like a bull, turning on his feet and storming out without another word, slamming the door shut with enough force that the whole apartment shakes and rattles.

You don’t move for a long time after that.

At first, you tell yourself that you’re waiting to see if he comes back. Kyoutani’s always been rash and hot headed, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d left in the heat of an argument only to return a short while later with flowers and some grunted out, pained sounding apology. 

And then… well, you don’t quite know after that. 

Sunlight begins to creep through the window, and you curl up on the couch. The painkillers they gave you still have a few good hours left in them, but your whole body feels weirdly heavy. Exhausted. After your vicious little outburst, you’ve run completely out of steam. 

There’s nothing left for you to give. 

The tears come again, silent and pained, streaming down your cheeks. Your whole heart aches.

You think you’re grieving; for what happened to you tonight, for the awful, inescapable mess that you’ve tangled yourself up in. 

And you could go now, leave this apartment – and Kyoutani – behind. Maybe you’d make it. Maybe your sister would come. Maybe his friends are downstairs waiting in case you try anything. Or someone less friendly with a score to settle.

Maybe it wouldn’t even matter, because Kyoutani would rather set the world on fire and watch it burn than let you go, whether you leave this apartment or not. 

Minutes tick by – or is it hours? – and eventually your breathing evens out and sleep comes and takes you.

You stir not to the sound of the door opening, but the scent of something sharp and coppery, of cigarettes and leather, and warm, familiar aftershave. Strong arms lift you up. 

Kyoutani says nothing as he carries you to his bed, sets you down gently and crawls in to take the space behind you, shifting the blankets up so they cover you both. His lips press against your hair, a heavy arm sliding over your middle, pulling you snug against him.

“‘m sorry,” he mumbles gruffly, and you wonder what it is he thinks he’s apologising for.

Heavy eyelids fall shut.

You don’t fight sleep when it beckons once more.

┌─ “ „ TRANQUIL ─┐

tw. free use, moresome, cult behavior, manipulation, coercion, implications of cutting /marking, embarrassment, voyeurism, corruption wordcount. 5.4k

a/n.  day 2 of kinktober ♡♡♡ this was another rough one for me hfggsfyg so i really hope you guys like it and that it does kinda hopefully come across a little like how i hoped it'd come across. i did enjoy getting to write mattsun as like,,, a more dark type of person because i never really got to do that before and i really enjoyed it and i hOPE you DO TOO!!!

matsukawa issei x fem!reader

Your hair’s a mess by the time you get from campus onto the crowded tram, where you and too many wet travelers pack into it with an uncomfortable elbow in your face. It’s late, and the weary groan of the metal carriage feels a little too accurate to your current mood. The ugly, off-white lights cast harsh shadows. And a taller individual bumps you twice, making the metal bar dig into your thigh when you try to lean on it. Winter. You hate winter, you sadly have to confirm again, as the thick droplets turn into a drizzle. With a slight frown you catch your reflection.

The unflattering light makes you look so much older than you actually are, highlighting precisely everything you wish to ignore today. You’re tired enough to lean your head against the cold metal and pull out your phone, checking tomorrow’s notifications with a sudden unguarded sadness.

Mouth corners dropped, you tuck the device away again, and try your best to ignore the fact that you’re about to break. And you are — about to snap under the pressure. There’s days where the tasks keep you busy enough not to feel it, more focused on just going, going, going that you don’t really have the time to stop and think about how tired you are, how unfulfilled.

But there’s also days like these, dreary, miserable days where every stacked up mishap leaves you a few seconds from breaking out into a sob. You bite your bottom lip to will yourself, to suck it up, to ignore it. You’re a floundering college student; you’re used to ignoring it.

As you’re having a mental battle against your own emotions, the tram stops, people get off, people get on— and move and squeeze into the small area until you see him. Pressed in between two rows of seats, he seems to tower over everyone else. But it’s not his height that strikes you first. It’s his silhouette, his aura, from top to bottom standing in vast contrast with the groups of tired students and employees in a way that takes you aback. His presence overtakes the entire carriage, so much so that it surprises you all at once that you didn’t notice him before. His tall, wide shouldered frame suits the dark, curly hair and and even darker eyes.

You find yourself staring for a few seconds, before automatically trying to fix your hair a little in response. You’re captivated, however embarrassing it is to admit it. But you’ve seen people rock confidence, the pretty girls with shiny hair and kind smiles, or funny guys with foundations that are sturdy and durable. This man’s nothing like them, and yet, there’s something compared to it that makes them all fall short. It’s a larger-than-life sort of smackdown that takes your breath away. He’s truly imposing. And that’s fascinating and terrifying all at once.

Until he catches you staring.

Instantly the fascination turns to hot-cheeked embarrassment, before you avert your eyes as far away from him as you can. Not only are you teary eyed, sucking on your lip like it’s your safeguard, and is your face starting to glow from the mortification— you’re stood slouched and half pressed under a stranger’s armpit. You count the seconds with a longing for time to hurry until the tram slows at the next stop, lets people off, people on, and jerks you around a few steps as it unceremoniously speeds back up. The man stays on your mind though, those satisfied, lazy eyes seeming to stay with you. You can’t force yourself to look up into the cart again, resorting to watching the downcast streets instead.

But the reflection is too bright, and before you’re aware of it, you meet dark irises too— in the flickers of the window this time.

He lets out a low, warm chuckle at your wide-eyed expression; and smiles. A wide smile that turns his lips up at the corners in a cheshire-like grin and makes your stomach erupt with flutters. The rest of the ride has the hairs on your arms on end, standing up with the feeling of eyes on your skin; and not just because he’s handsome. He evidently is though. The few more minutes on the tram pass in a soft, spellbound silence that has you catching his eyes every so often, smiling beside yourself. Your stop comes up. And as you begrudge the full cart at not being able to say something, making your way with soft apologies towards the doors, you notice in a slight surprise that the man moves too.

A shiver crawls up your back, one you can’t pin good or bad.

 You slip off the vehicle with a little breath, getting out of the way of some other passengers, before a soft tap comes to your shoulder. You turn with a startle, having to throw your head all the way back to look up at the towering young man. His lashes are extra long from this angle, and eyes so rich and deep and all-consuming it takes you a moment to find your voice. “Yes?”

“Hey. I uh-” He rubs his large palm along the back of his neck, before running his fingers through his dark, chocolate brown curls. “I’m Matsukawa. And you're really pretty. At the risk of making myself look like a total idiot,” he grins down at you then, with the most handsome smile you’ve ever seen anyone slip onto their face, “could I get your name, and possibly your number?”

“Possibly my number, huh?”

He chuckles, and fishes out his phone from his back pocket to hand it to you. “Well, if you’re feeling charitable.”

+

You notice too quickly that Issei has a pull to him that is hard to shake. Charisma oozes out of him with each step, each glance your way, each smile. He’s got every waitress wound around his ring-clad fingers, and is deceptively good at getting his own way, even if he has to talk his way around a point. It’s endlessly amusing, with the way he casts you glances during dinner, over drinks, while talking to your friends who’re instantly smitten with him. It’s almost magical. Your friend tells you she’s jealous of you after only twenty minutes of meeting him, with a gentle smile on her face- and you can’t even blame her. Only agree, trying to keep down the grin that pulls at your lips.

And that’s why —maybe a little naïvely— you somehow expected the people he associates with, calls his friends, to be the same. Young, charismatic, smart with a tongue to match; this evidently isn’t what you get. The motley group before you is young men, older men, some handsome and others … definitely not. There are a few funny and boisterous, some deathly quiet— all of them already gathered in the dim bar before you and Issei arrive. All of them with eyes zeroed in on you from the second the brunet says ‘hi’.

You swallow. It’s not like you’re this shy recluse. You’re often able to match your boyfriend’s tone with just as much bite as he dares give you; and enjoy it. But something about being stuck like glue to his strong arm as the door falls shut behind you, takes all the joy out of it. This feels less like a friendly gathering, and more like a courtroom. You avoid most of the eyes as you choose instead to scan the bar, and you lean into Issei’s arm a little more. He’s oblivious of your thoughts, clearly, because he only smiles down at you to wave around. “These are the guys- well, some of them, at least.” He brushes his hands over your shoulders, and nods. “I’ll introduce you, everyone’s very excited to meet you. I have to admit that I maybe, sung your praises a little too loud.” His teasing should make you laugh. It would, under normal circumstances.

“... Alright,” is all you manage to say though, painting a friendly grin on as he parades you through the room and introduces you. Your heart still sinks a little when you shake hands with a man about twice your age, no matter how friendly he is.

+ 

Mattsun’s voice is that perfect, low rumble as he calls your name, and stares up at you from his splayed out position on the couch. “Hey, come back over here.” He jutts out his lip in an obnoxious pout, and makes grabby hands towards you like he’s a very oversized toddler. “Baby, come back to me~” You can’t help but smile, and grab your laptop to plop yourself down next to him. Your head rests onto his shoulder with a soft sigh, lazily continuing your work. It’s not easy to focus when your boyfriend blows little puffs of hair onto the crown of your head with a giggle though.

“Issei, please. I have to get this done.” You don’t sound nearly as stern as you wish you did, and he notices. And grabs hold of it easily, to pry his hand between your laptop and your thigh, to squeeze it hard enough to make you squirm. “Ouch,” you giggle, and look up to him, “not so hard, aw, aw.” You might complain, but you’re closing the tab all the same, giving in a little too easily to his poking and prodding. “What do you want?”

You expect a teasing smirk and a kiss maybe, or some thinly veiled comment about taking you here on the couch— but instead he stares for a long few seconds, then brushes his fingertips along your hairline to brush your locks away from your face. It’s awfully tender, as is the way he eyes you down like a prized jewel. Dark eyes exploring your features so intensely it makes you too aware of how close you two are sitting, curled up into his side and nose to nose. He blinks, mouth corners pulling up just a tad bit. “Did you think about what I asked you the other day?”

Fuck.

You go to pull away, sit back on your own pillow and drop the eye contact in favor of staring -now with much more interest- at the computer screen. Not this again. “I don’t know, Issei. I don’t think that I’d like that. It's not that I’m not up to trying things with you— I- I’d be more than happy to- It’s just- th—” You can’t bring yourself to really look at those deep, all-knowing eyes as you talk, but you really want to seem like you mean it. So you stare instead at his mouth. “This would be the first time I’m seeing some of your friends- and I’m not sure I’m even that much to look at—and-”

“I’d really like you to do it.”

It’s quiet in your apartment, apart from the gentle pounding of your heart between your ears. It’s quiet, and tense, and you dare finally look up to your boyfriend for a second to see how he sits so stoic, glacier-like beside you. Icy, and immovable. You can basically feel his displeasure radiate off of him. With a swallow, you lace your hands together on his thigh- you don’t want to upset him. You like Issei a lot, he’s a good boyfriend; even if he is a bit impatient on things he wants, or thinks he needs. “Babe, I’m just saying how it’d probably be better—”

“I don't know why you’re making it out to be something that’s so weird. I wanna see you enjoy yourself. I want other people to see you enjoy yourself because I think you’re beautiful, and you deserve it. But you don’t even wanna consider it, and you look at me like I’m some- some freak, for opening up to you. For even suggesting it.” His low voice is a little too sharp in the quiet of the house, he seems to notice it too, because he deflates a little. “I understand how you feel, I do, but— I don’t want you to think it’s weird…”

“But I don’t-”

“You do though, babe,” he says back, gripping your hands between his large, warmer ones. “I get why you’d say no. Because you feel like it’s weird, right? Like I’m pushing you into something? I’m not. And maybe I’m a bad boyfriend for asking, or a fucking weirdo- I don’t know-” He keeps going so fast you can’t even get a word in, eyes flicking from his face to the way he’s getting up from the couch now. You call his name, softly. But he’s not paying attention right now, letting go of you to pace around the room and staring resolutely down at the carpet. “Fuck, I’m… I messed it up, didn’t I? You think I’m a fucking weirdo now. I’ll leave. I’ll leave, that’s-”

“No, Issei—”

“I’m sorry, baby. I love you, I really do, but you don’t wanna do this and I shouldn’t even have brought it up. I know I shouldn’t have. I don’t mean to-”

“Issei!” You say now, biting your bottom lip as he finally, finally stops pacing the room to allow his eyes to rest on your slumped shape. Your eyes water up to have them all blurry by the time you look at him properly, wrapping your arms around yourself. It’s the first time he’s said he loves you. And though you don’t really believe in that being such a big deal, it is still enough to have your voice wobbly. “I don’t think it’s weird, I-” Your heart pounds a little too hard between your ears. But your tree of a boyfriend stands still to hear you out, so you bite through it. “W-we… I can try it.”

“No, I don’t want you to feel like you have to. I’ll leave for tonight and we don’t have to talk about it again.”

“I want to try it, okay?! I want to—” you end up snapping now, bottom lip shaking and your arms like a protective cocoon around your waist. Everything just happened in the span of a minute and a half, and you have to take a moment to fully process things. But you don’t get that time to think, because Issei’s already back by your side on the couch and grabs your chin to angle it towards his face. Whatever panic he was feeling earlier is completely gone from his face now, as a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. You can see how he tries to hold it back, but it still shines through a little. 

“You promise?” He presses his hands to your shoulders as if to ground you, staring into your soul so intensely it gives you goosebumps all along your arms. Ground you, or keep you in place, you guess.

+

There’s a sudden commotion in the back of the lecture hall that spirals out of control quick. One second you’re listening to the professor and diligently taking notes, the next people are shoving into you. Your pen falls, and you slip off of the chair, before standing up to look at all of the noise that now breaks out. There’s people pushing and trying to slip out of the circle that has formed, and a buzz of hundreds of people breaking out into confused mumbling. The professor all the way at the bottom of the hall can only watch in complete confusion and ask what’s going on, but you’re closer.

Tens of students push past to get out of the way, but you hear a few braver guys stand and hold their ground. “You can’t just storm in, there’s a lecture going on,” you hear one say, and despite knowing better, you can’t help yourself. You raise yourself onto your tippy toes, like most people in your row are doing, and try to catch any movement.

But you wish you hadn’t.

The eyes you meet are familiar, and you instantly feel yourself move past some of the students to get closer. People glare at you as you shove past, the professor still asking everyone to sit back down— but you shove through anyway. When you manage to make it to the double doors people have gathered around at the very top of the auditorium, you’re finally allowed a better idea of what the Hell’s going on, and; your stomach flips.

Mizoguchi, a blond well into his thirties, is the first to spot you. Next to a brunet you also recognize, Kunimi, and a bunch of other men you definitely don’t. “There she is.” The older familiar man has a stern voice, and an equally stern look- as you look around behind yourself. But he stares at you with expecting eyes, and a short temper. “Get over here, what are you doing?”

“What am I doing?” you squeak back, face going hot like a furnace when people around you now angle their confusion and anger towards you as well, and you feel the hostility in the circle rise more as you’re shoved towards the front. “No, I— What is going on?!” All of the intruders stay quiet, and you notice with a mortified glance past the door, there’s at least a dozen of them. “Wh-”

“Matsukawa was expecting you an hour ago,” the quiet brunet you’ve only had two conversations with in the last three months gives you a dark look, before shrugging. But you can tell by the harsh set of his jaw he’s nowhere near as unaffected as he’s making it out to be, and your anxiety only doubles at the sight. “You didn’t show, so he got worried.”

Your cheeks must be steaming up the anxious sweat you’ve worked up from your total embarrassment— the entire hall full of students talking among themselves. It’s horrifying, and you take a few steps towards Kunimi to stare between him and Mizoguchi, the only two of Issei’s ‘friends’ here you know by name. “I told him I still had two hours of class left,” you hiss under your breath, and search your back pocket for your phone; only to freeze.

“Hey, lady, can you leave? We’ll call security,” one of the guys speaks up from behind you, as he glances impatiently at his watch and then back at the group of you.

“No, don’t call security,” you immediately beg, and then hold up your hands. What if you get expelled because of this mess? “I’ll leave, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, it’s a misunderstanding.” You don’t even care about your bag right now, deciding to come back for it after hours or- or something- anything but right here, right now. You’re the first to push past the doors, trying your very best to ignore the cold shivers when Kunimi and Mizoguchi stay right by your side with sharp glares, and the sound of an entire brigade of grown men turn and follow in toe. The murmuring of the lecture hall haunts you as you walk down the hall with wet eyes; until you finally make it outside. “Mattsun knows I still have class,” you breathe out, suddenly with a voice more tears than actual bite— anxiety catching up with you all at once.

“He told you to come back home thirty minutes ago,” Kunimi only says, and doesn’t bother to do more than place a hand on your shoulder before leading you to the parking lot. And though you shrug his hand off with as much vitreal as you can manage, he stays much too close by your side for you to ignore him like how you really want.

You slam the door behind you with so much force you hope it shatters.

Your frown is deep enough to ache your brow muscles, and your voice can barely keep back the fury you feel as you round on your boyfriend. Who’s simply lounging in a chair, as his lazy eyes scan you top to bottom. “I see you made it home in one piece,” he has the audacity to chuckle, and you— lose it.

“Are you joking, Issei?! You get upset at me for being in class- and instead of calling me, or- or anything else? Y-then- you send your knockoff knights of the round table after me?!” Your thoughts come tumbling out before you can breathe, let alone think. “And not even— not even one or two of them either, but a whole brigade of people I don’t even know? Do you know how embarrassed I am?!”

“Raise your voice at me again,” he stands from the chair in one fell swoop, and is before you in all his height and intimidating glory in two steps, “I dare you.”

Your hands ball into fists, but your tongue seems to melt to the bottom of your mouth. As he picks you apart in one look, as he brushes your now-unruly hair out of your face and appraises you like he likes to do. But for the first time, it feels less like he’s cherishing a rare diamond, and more like he’s staring down the hollow eyes of some prized cattle. He lets the tension dissipate with a soft chuckle though, and wraps his large hand around your head to pull you into his chest, forcing you into a hug. You’re not really sure if you want to be mad, or cry. Or maybe both. “You were embarrassed?” Despite his seeming glee at the sound, you sniffle as you lean into him, sadly nodding your head up and down against the coarse fabric of his sweater. And letting your tears dampen it.

“‘C-course I was, why’d you send people I don’t know to come get me?”

“I was embarrassed to show up, dummy.” He whispers it into your crown, dead toned. You can’t even tell if he’s being serious. “You’re such an idiot, y’know that? Getting mad at me, at the guys, even though you were late.” You let him wrap his long arms around you, and you don’t even really know why. Maybe because his flat feels a lot colder than yours, and because you really want comfort. You’re not sure. But your face is hot and your cheeks are thick as they race down and find Mattsun, who squeezes you tight. “Aw, baby. My baby. It’s okay, it’s fine. So what if people talk, hm? You don’t need ‘em anyway.”

He pulls up your face to meet his, those dark eyes glittering in the low light of the room, and leans his forehead against yours. Irises full of undying devotion. “You have me, and I’d never judge you for something so silly.”

+

He’s hot against your neck as you breathe through it, and your body is ragdolled around by the man above you. Issei’s hair is a fluffy mess, his voice and his groans making your brain all fuzzy as he ruts into you. He takes a sharp breath, then kisses you long and hard as he drives his cock into the soft, warm pouch of your pussy. “Fuck, that’s it, baby. You’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” The panting and the heat between you both is so hot, your chest and neck and back all coated in a thin layer of sweat as he brings you down onto his cock again.

You can only nod, and bob your head up and down a little dizzily. Issei’s grin is sharp in the darkness, but so pretty. He makes you feel pretty. Your nails are dug into his shoulders and though he hisses at it when he moves, it only makes him want to go harder— you can tell by the way his eyes flick all over your body and his one hand grabs one of your tits to squeeze. “You’re not gonna disappoint me. I know you won’t.” Another kiss, another breath into it that turns everything messy. You’re basically shaking with how close you are to coming on his cock again, and the low tremble of his voice isn’t helping.

“Right?”

“Yes, daddy! Yes, yes, yes! I’ll be good for you~”

But Issei grips your chin and forces your face back to his, and you can tell he means it when he speaks next. “You’ll be good for everyone tomorrow.”

+

Your hands are shaking despite yourself, blindfolded as you wait in the middle of them room on your knees. Your skin is electric, and the cami and panties you’re wearing do nothing to keep you warm in the otherwise cold room. A few mumbles and giggles catch your attention every once in a while, but you do your very best not to pay attention. If you pay attention, you’ll start overthinking, and if you start overthinking— you’ll freak out. Issei wouldn’t like it if you freaked out.

Your deeper, more rapid breathing doesn’t go unnoticed, because a large hand comes to the top of your head to gently play with your hair. “Hey, calm down.” It’s Makki; the strawberry blond who spent the better of an hour getting you pretty for the ceremony. He’s your boyfriend’s oldest friend, apparently- but you know he mainly served as a guard of sorts. You’re glad to have him nevertheless.

Makki sinks to your level on his heels, before slowly sliding his hand along your neck and rubbing slow circles there. “Take a breath, pretty girl, you’re all tensed up. Mattsun will be here soon, ‘kay?”

“Do we have to have the blindfold?” you slowly squeak out, and a few soft giggles come from the back of the room. Though they’ve been laughing for the past five minutes, this one feels particularly cruel. But Makki hums, his voice warm and soft as he leans in to hover over your ear.

“I think you’ll be glad for it.” You’re not sure what that’s supposed to mean, only that it doesn’t exactly calm your nerves. You did promise Issei you’d do it, and it’d make him really happy. Or- would save you from further embarrassment maybe, because god knows his group of friends would jump at the opportunity to. You can basically feel them move around the room like hungry animals. You suppose Makki’s right. His hands are sweet when running down your arms, your thighs, putting you in a more comfortable position sitting back. He’s more quiet than normal when getting to your back, and slowly dips down to kiss the top of your spine with a deep breath. Then he lets out a noise of what you think is… excitement, and you stay totally unmoving under his touches.

You want to be good. You do, you really are trying your best— but why-

“Kunimi, come over here. You ready the things.”

There’s shuffling and walking, heavy steps that make your poor deprived brain even more on edge, before finally, Issei comes back. You can tell even by the way he walks, how the gravity in the room seems to shift all towards him. And he coos, walking up to you and allowing you to wrap your arms around his leg and nose at his knee. “Baby~ you look so pretty like this for us. So fucking soft.” He kneels before you, and though you can’t see him, you let yourself be led into a kiss, melting into the soft of his tongue, warm and familiar and tasting faintly of tobacco.

“Makki made you look so proper for us. It’s cute.” Then he gives you another kiss, and settles before you to move you up from the floor and into his lap, patiently situating you between his thighs. “Say ‘thank you, Makki’.”

“Thank you, Makki,” you mumble, starting to glow from the inside when the hands of your boyfriend start roaming along the edge of your panties to slide up into your shirt, drawing circles there. Somewhere in the room, Makki laughs, and hums softly.

“You’re very welcome, pet.”

The low voice then comes back, kissed over your ear as Mattsun’s hands move and slide the straps of your cami aside to let the fabric fall. “Now say ‘thank you, daddy’,” his growl doesn’t go unnoticed, hips rolled against you to give you shivers. His body is warm and solid against yours, muscular things, strong chest, hardening cock also being pressed to your body. His lips come down along your pulse to kiss there, and bite. You again parrot the words, and Issei chuckles softly against you. “That’s a good pet. Now baby, here’s what’ll happen.” There’s people that move again, at the instruction of Issei or Makki you assume, because there’s people everywhere. Behind you, surrounding the two of you on the mat, farther away too; it’s nerve wracking.

And a little exciting too, letting your boyfriend roll his hips into your puffy, covered pussy with a solid rhythm. “I’ll start you off, and I’ll finish you off too.” Another roll of his hips, and the thick length you still have barely gotten used to taking pushing into you as well. He squeezes your tits, before rubbing your perky nipples a few times and taking one of your tits into his mouth to suck and kiss. People around you makes noises, groans, grunts, belts unbuckling and the slow, familiar sound of fists wrapping around cocks that’s entirely distracting you, but it also makes you feel wet. You shuffle closer into Issei to get more of his touch, and to hopefully entice him to more touch. “But you will point, and whoever you pick will take care of you too, you understand?”

He laughs under his breath when you whisper his name and wrap your arms around his neck, quickly bringing them back down. “Who gets to fuck you is up to you, baby. All up to you.”

“Want daddy to.”

“Mhm, and I will, of course.” Suddenly there’s more hands on your body than just two, one wrapping around your wrists behind your back, one around your thigh, around your other thigh, one settling in your hair. Hands are everywhere, touching you all over. One even slips between your legs to peel the panties you’ve gotten all sticky aside, and you can only hope it’s Issei who chuckles and slides a finger between your lips, rubbing the wetness around your clit. “But before I’ll fuck you again, there’s just one little thing we need to fix. You see, because— some of the guys are… still a little upset with you.”

“I—”

Mattsun’s voice is amused as he leans in and shuts you up with a kiss, someone brushing your cheeks, someone slowly peeling the cami further down your body. A mouth comes to one of your tits and someone’s hands push further into your pussy and the loud, wet squelch of it spreading for the stretch of two thick fingers is almost too much to bear. There’s a heavy smell of aftershave, and all kinds of colognes you don’t recognize, and pants, and whispers— everything is so much. But Issei’s still kissing you slow and steady, and you force yourself to focus on that as your cunt’s stretched out with sloppy, scissoring motions.

“It’s an easy process, pretty thing,” you recognize Makki’s voice behind you as he trails a hand down your exposed spine and hooks his finger on the panties to slowly tear the lace apart. “Just a few little cuts… to prove that you belong to us now.” He laughs when you try to turn over your shoulder to look at him, pulling at your arms to break free. It obviously doesn’t budge, wrists only being gripped together tighter as you struggle a little. “Kunimi’s really good at doing a clean mark.”

“Wait, no— Issei, please.”

He, or someone else, shoves two fingers into your throat before you can say more, making you choke as another hand pulls at your head to expose more of your throat. Your clit is rubbed in circles and your head fuzzy as you’re lifted up and you can only hear Mattsun breathe before you, then head rustling of clothes being removed. There’s hands pawing at your tits as you’re hoisted up onto your legs and they’re spread wide apart, and your choked whimpers are discarded with all the spit and mess your body is creating. You try to cry out, but it’s of no use.

“Shhhh, play nice.” Issei presses a kiss to your nose, before the fingers are pulled out of your mouth and your head is pushed down more. And the heavy smell of Issei’s cock leaking precum is pressed to your lips, as people rub your clit, and suck your tits, and circle your asshole. “Be good for me, you promised, remember? Don’t make me upset now, baby.”

All Rights Reserved © IWAASFAIRY 2022. Works are exclusive to this Tumblr.

summary: You’d sworn you didn’t want anything to do with your father, or with your family business. You’d left the country for college, and by the time you’d started your second year of grad school your old life felt like a distant untrustworthy memory.

When your father calls you in late November to tell you he’s dying, your carefully constructed boundaries crumble. You agree to come home for Christmas, on the condition that you help him sort out his will.

By the time your plane lands, it’s too late. He’s died under mysterious circumstances while your plane was in the air, if you can trust Iwaizumi, and you’ve never trusted Iwaizumi.

Chaos ensues, when millions of dollars, thousands of weapons, and a thriving criminal enterprise are willed directly to you - and your husband.

Just one problem? You’re not married. Yet.

genre: fluff, smut, angst

cws - mafia tropes, guns, mild mild violence, yan!oikawa for plot reasons, blood mention, reader’s father is dead. All characters in their mid twenties.

ch 1 - wc 6,913 ch 2

Keep reading

one of my all time favs!!!

LITTLE DARK AGE

haitani ran x fem!reader x haitani rindou

summary: eight years later, you finally return to tokyo and find yourself caught in the middle of a violent gang war between the two most ruthless criminal organizations of tokyo’s underworld, forced to choose between blood and love.

genre: bonten timeskip, angst, forbidden romance, childhood friends -> strangers -> lovers, 18+ MDNI

warnings: fem!reader, gang violence, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, explicit smut, polyamory, profanity, MCD, unedited, MTBA

chapter warnings: disassociation, class discrimination, mentions of suicide and mass death

taglist closed — but if ur someone who actively reblogs n leaves feedback i might just find a spot for u

previous chapter -> masterlist -> next chapter

CHAPTER Ⅶ. AND YOU'LL NEVER BE PURE AGAIN

FOURTEEN YEARS EARLIER.

“Do we really have to go?” Rindou murmured, tugging at the ends of his suit jacket uncomfortably, glancing back at you. Your shoulders slumped as you fixed your dress in the mirror, a pout tugging at your lips.

“I mean, you don’t have to but I just don’t wanna go to this stupid event alone,” you said, giving both of the brothers a sullen look as they shared a look with one another. 

“Whether the boys go with you or not, you won’t be alone,” Miss Yua chided as she brushed your hair, “Don’t be dramatic, your uncle will be attending with you.”

“Uncle Ichirou will be off with Mister Sugawara the entire night, he’s not even driving there with us! He will not be with me, I’ll be off on my own dealing with the creepy Sugawara boys,” you said loudly and let out a sharp cry as Miss Yua smacked the top of your head with the brush, clicking her tongue. “What was that for! They are creepy! They’re always hanging around me and being touchy when I tell them not to, and they’re mean, they always call me names.”

“They what?” Ran asked, voice low, and you missed the dark look that he shared with Rindou as your eyes fluttered shut, letting Miss Yua finish up pinning your hair. 

“You heard me, Ran!” you said, turning around once Miss Yua let her hands drop from your head. “They’re just so awful, don’t make me go alone, please.”

You puffed your lip out, looking up at Ran, “Pretty please,” you asked, widening your eyes and letting your bottom lip tremble. Ran rolled his eyes, flicking your forehead hard, you let out a yelp, flinching back.

“Stop with that stupid face,” he muttered, you gaped at him.

“Ran, don’t be mean,” Rindou said and you straightened, pleased that he came to your defense, “She can’t help it, it’s her natural face.”

You gasped dramatically as Ran and Rindou burst into laughter, “Rindou!” you complained, shooting him a withering look, “you guys are the worst! At least my face isn’t as stupid as your hair!”

Ran only grinned at you, his hand falling from the top of your head to your shoulder, squeezing gently. You looked back up at him, eyes meeting his lavender ones and you almost smiled at the light look in his eyes, one that you still hadn’t gotten used to seeing over the past few months. 

“Don’t be dumb, ‘course we’ll come with you,” he murmured and a warm feeling settled in your chest as Ran looked down at you, hand lingering on your shoulder. You felt your face begin to heat up and you looked away.

“... I don’t actually think your hair is stupid,” you muttered, and Rindou snorted, nudging your shoulder.

“Yeah, we know that from how often you force us to sit down so you can brush it,” he said and you whipped toward him, scowling.

“Don’t act like you don’t like it! You’re practically sitting there half-asleep and drooling by the time I’m done, Rindou!” you said and Rindou gaped at you.

“I do not! Take that back!” 

“You do too!” 

Miss Yua clicked her tongue sharply and the two of you quieted down, turning to look at her. Her eyes were trained on you and Rindou gave you a severe side-eye as you tried to shift behind him to step out of her gaze.

“Go to Ayato,” Miss Yua pointed her long finger at you, flicking the air, “He will-”

“Miss Yua!” you complained, watching as she raised her eyebrows at the interruption, “I do not need to be lectured about behavior by Mister Ayato this time! If anything, Rindou and Ran should be going to see him! This is their first time at an event like this!”

“Way to throw us under the bus,” Rindou muttered and you giggled, he only glared at you from beneath his long bangs. 

“Go,” Miss Yua said, and it wasn’t up for argument so your shoulders dropped and you pouted, ignoring the way that Rindou snorted as you turned on your heel and walked away.

“How do the two of you even see under this mop of hair? And what is this dye-job?” you heard Miss Yua snap as you made your way down the hall toward Mister Ayato’s office, “Next week the two of you will be dragged to the stylist down the street whether you like it or not. Understood?”

Miss Yua’s voice became muffled as you turned down the hall, distantly hearing Rindou and Ran muttering their agreement before your eyes fell upon Mister Ayato fiddling with a hunting knife on his desk. He placed it down once he saw you approach, you eyed it curiously, never having seen it before, “What’s that from?” 

“My brother’s,” Mister Ayato said simply, walking around the desk to step toward you, “he gave it to me a few days before he passed away.”

You blinked, “You had a brother?” you asked quietly. A brother that passed away like… your throat felt swollen. It’s been a good amount of time since you’ve thought deeply about your parents and little sister, the Haitanis were always sure to keep your mind off of it but…

“I did, he was ten years older than me, died when I was in my early teens,” Mister Ayato said, and you stared at him, waiting for him to explain. He patted your head, “Gang violence.”

… but you’d never be able to forget the pain.

“Oh,” you said, “Like-“

“No,” he responded before you could finish, “Not like the boys’ little delinquent groups, actual gang violence.”

“Oh,” you said quietly, looking up as Mister Ayato sighed deeply, a strange look in his eyes.

“Look out for them tonight,” he said quietly and your brows furrowed in confusion, “This event is going to have a lot of dangerous people, don’t let them do anything that would put a target on their backs.”

You stared at him, “A target?”

Mister Ayato’s face twisted, as if he were trying to figure out how to explain, “You… you are in a unique position. Your uncle is a powerful man, amongst the people that will be at tonight’s event, you will be untouchable. The boys do not have that same luxury, do you understand? You will have to use your status to protect them.”

An ill-feeling settled in your stomach, “They might be in danger?” your voice wavered.

You knew your uncle was involved with shady stuff. You’ve known it since the week of the trial but you didn’t think… You weren’t thinking, why would you want to bring Rindou and Ran around these people? You were too focused on your distaste of the Sugawara boys, you weren’t thinking about others who might be attending the event.

Mister Ayato shook his head, “I didn’t say that. There’s no inherent danger in simply attending the event and I doubt that they change their minds now, just make sure they don’t do anything to bring unwelcome attention, and if they do…”

“If they do, I will take it off of them,” you said firmly, nodding your head, “I understand.”

Mister Ayato eyed you for a minute before letting out another heavy breath, “I wish that your uncle didn’t demand your presence at these events,” he murmured, “he should wait until you’re older.”

You opened your mouth to speak but Mister Ayato only waved you off, “Go, Akira will drive you and the boys to the event. Be sure to stay with them.”

You nodded, walking back toward the door, pausing before turning to look back at the older man over your shoulder, “Mister Ayato?” he raised his eyebrows, waiting for you to continue, “uncle Ichirou doesn’t really tell me what goes on at these events but I know it's more than just a party.”

It wasn’t a question but Mister Ayato looked perturbed, he wouldn’t meet your eye. You frowned.

“It’s not for you to worry about now,” Mister Ayato murmured and you opened your mouth to protest but Mister Ayato gave you a stern look, one that had you faltering, “Go, Akira is waiting.”

--

“Do not do anything rash at this event for whatever reason, do you understand?”

Rindou’s fists were clenched tight at his side as he watched a group of boys his and Ran’s age leer in your direction as you gleefully spoke to an older woman that Rindou didn’t recognize--it was hard to remember Miss Yua’s words as you shifted uncomfortably, bright smile temporarily fading as you met eyes with one of the boys. He and Ran lingered near you, silently snacking on some of the cheese and crackers that had been set up on a nearby table. 

They had been like this for twenty minutes now, standing back while you talked to the older woman, trying to ignore the unwelcome stares of the boys halfway across the room. Rindou didn’t have to ask to know they were the Sugawara boys that you had been bitching about before you all left the penthouse--they were the only other kids their age at the event, dressed in clothes that Ran and Rindou couldn’t have even dreamt of being in the vicinity of three years ago.

Rindou tugged uncomfortably at his own suit jacket, shifting on his feet. He hadn’t been able to adapt as well to the new lifestyle as Ran did--though that shouldn’t have been much of a surprise to him, everything came naturally easy to Ran and that included shifting from a survivalist lifestyle to a luxurious one. The new expensive clothes that you, and now Ran, donned like a second skin felt like a silly costume on him, one that he couldn’t quite get used to. 

“Should we do something?” Rindou asked, watching as another smile wavered on your face at a particularly loud comment. “She’s uncomfortable.”

Ran’s lips twitched down, eyes dark with irritation and a sort of helplessness that Rindou hated seeing on his brother’s face. 

“We can’t,” he said and Rindou’s jaw was tight as he forced his gaze away from Ran and back onto you, a feeling akin to relief sweeping through him when he noticed you bidding goodbye to the older woman and walking back toward them.

And Rindou felt warm when he noticed the smile on your face become wider and more genuine as you drew closer to them. 

“Rindou,” you said and Rindou gave you a questioning look, “Wanna dance with me?” 

Rindou’s face heated up immediately, eyes wide as he looked between you and the dancefloor, taking a step back. Next to him, Ran snorted and grabbed his shoulder, holding him in place before shoving him forward toward you, “Go on, don’t let the princess down.” 

Rindou stumbled forward into you, barely catching himself. He shot Ran a betrayed look but you had already grabbed his hand, “Ran, you’ll dance with me next?” you asked gleefully. Rindou watched as Ran winked at you.

“Of course,” he said, grinning, but Rindou knew from the look in his brother’s eyes that Ran would be long gone before the song was over. 

You didn’t give him the chance to protest, instead only dragging him toward the dance floor, smiling bright as you took his hands into yours. Rindou was sure his face was on fire and he didn’t know why--because it was just you. And I mean, yeah, Rindou didn’t really like entertaining conversation or hanging out with anybody but you or Ran--he wasn’t the most sociable or friendly but he’d never been one to get flustered and-

You moved closer to him, Rindou leaned back. You glared, Rindou looked away.

“I can’t dance with you if you’re holding me three feet away, Rindou!” you said.

And Rindou’s mouth was dry, eyes trained on the wall behind you instead of looking down at you and your pretty dress and your pretty face. Not pretty, Rindou thought viciously as you wrapped your arms loose around his neck, pointedly looking at the hands dangling at his side and he reluctantly placed his hands at your waist, letting you lead him in time with soft music because Rindou had no idea how to dance and you knew it, and he knew it, and Ran knew it from how amused he looked, and if Rindou had to bet, anyone that looked in your direction would be able to tell from how stiff he moved. 

“Why ya so tense?” you asked, a teasing smile tugging at your lips and Rindou scowled, pointedly looking away.

“I am not,” he said and he hated how petulant he sounded because you obviously noticed it from how you tried to smother a laugh. He couldn’t bring himself to be annoyed because your eyes were light and you were happy and Rindou supposed that he could deal with the ego blow if it made you laugh.

“You totally are,” you giggled, leaning in close, and Rindou’s eyes widened as he leaned back instantly.

“Why are you getting so close?” he asked, flustered, sure that his face was burning red. 

“Why are you getting so nervous?” you countered, and Rindou hated how you didn’t even look bothered at the proximity because he didn’t even know why he was thrown off by it--it’s not like this was the first time you’ve ever been this close to him so he wasn’t sure why it was affecting him like this. He hated it. 

He looked back in the direction of Ran, panicked, but the panic dissolved when he caught the strange expression on Ran’s face--Ran hadn’t even seemed to notice that Rindou was looking at him, despite the fact that Ran was staring at you and Rindou, and the grin that had been on Ran’s face had fallen into a more conflicted expression that Rindou couldn’t quite decipher, which was odd because Rindou could usually read Ran pretty easily. 

But Rindou didn’t get the chance to try to figure out what had changed because you were grabbing his arm to spin yourself beneath it and Rindou was focused on not making a fool of himself in front of all of your uncle’s rich friends and colleagues.

But you only laughed, a bright carefree laugh that had Rindou’s chest feeling light and tight at the same time, and Rindou couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips as you finished spinning and leaned close to him, arms snug around his shoulders and smiling up at him before resting your head on his chest. 

And Rindou couldn’t breathe, his eyes were wide and his hands were almost trembling on your waist as you spoke, “I’m really glad you ‘n Ran came, Rin,” you said, and Rindou usually hated when people shortened his name but somehow when it was falling off of your lips, he couldn’t bring himself to hate it. “It would have been dreadfully boring had I been alone ‘n I’m sure those dumb boys would have tried something by now, so thank you, I know this isn’t exactly your scene.”

Your scene, he thought to himself, glancing around at the gilded walls and antiques decorating the room, thousand-dollar paintings lining the walls. That’s putting it lightly.

“You don’t need to thank us,” he murmured, “We wouldn’t just leave you here.”

“Even so, I still want to thank you,” you smiled, looking up at him with such a sincere look in your eyes that it had Rindou tongue-tied, only able to nod in response.

“If I had known we were allowed to bring any old lowlife, I would’ve brought the whore that was eyeing me up on the way over here to make this shitty event less awful,” an unfamiliar voice said and Rindou stiffened, eyes darting over to where one of the boys--one with dark hair and darker eyes, was now standing much closer to where he was dancing with you, eyeing the two of you distastefully.

You didn’t pause in your movements, instead bringing Rindou’s arm up for another spin, “I am not surprised you’d have to stoop to whores for company, Sakuya, nobody would willingly spend time with you unless they were paid.”

Rindou choked on air and one of the boys standing near Sakuya snorted, trying to muffle it with his hand as Sakuya shot him a dirty look.

Rindou eyed the boy from the corner of his eye--Sugawara Sakuya, he recognized, you had warned him and Ran about him and his brothers on the way over. Sakuya was the oldest son--seventeen, a year older than Ran, three years older than you--and he was also the most vocal and aggressive when it came to tormenting and bothering you.

“Rich coming from the girl whose only friends are street rats that only stay around because they need shelter,” Sakuya said coldly and Rindou watched as your expression dropped and your feet faltered, a hurt look spreading across your face.

And Rindou’s ears rung, his blood ran hot and it took all of his self-control not to launch himself forward and rip Sakuya’s head off. Instead, his grip only tightened on you, shifting you behind him so he could step forward.

There’s five of them, five of them and one of him, and he has to protect you. He won’t win—maybe? How well trained are they? He didn’t know, you had mentioned that they were trained in some sort of martial arts but not how skilled. 

“What’s going on?” Rindou nearly relaxed at Ran’s familiar voice coming from behind the two of you, stepping in front of you and next to Rindou.

Okay, it’ll be fine. They wouldn’t beat him and Ran together.

“What? Are you gonna say I’m wrong?” Sakuya scoffed, stepping forward closer to Ran, and Rindou felt anxious when he noticed the dark look in Ran’s eyes, one that promised blood and violence if Sakuya continued. Dread pooled in Rindou’s gut as Sakuya started speaking again, “You think everyone here doesn’t know you’re using her for her money… or are you using her for something else too?”

Rindou’s mouth was dry at the connotation and he could barely even think over the blood roaring in his ears. This fucking-

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Rindou spit out as Ran’s hand twitched at his side, “You have no fuckin’ idea what you’re talking about.”

Sakuya’s eyes snapped toward Rindou, a combined look of disgust and fury twisted onto his face.

“Who do you think you are?” Sakuya said, voice low as he walked closer to Rindou. Rindou tensed, Ran’s fist tightened as he shifted you further behind the two of them as Sakuya drew closer. “You have some nerve even looking in our direction, much less speaking. Know your place.”

“Our place?” Ran asked, eyes aflame and Sakuya only scoffed.

“You can wear all the fancy shit you want but it doesn’t change the fact that you’ll always be street rats. You don’t belong here,” Sakuya spat and Rindou’s jaw clenched at the comment, a strange feeling bubbling in his chest. Ran took a step forward, eyes dark, fist tight.

Fuck, this was going to get-

Rindou’s eyes widened when he felt you fling his hand off of your arm, pushing forward past him and Ran to stand chest to chest with Sakuya, “Bold coming from the son of a family that gets the majority of their money from my uncle. You would have nothing without us, you have some nerve coming to my family to talk about wealth, know your place.”

Murmurs broke out around the group of you but Rindou couldn’t focus on anything other than you—my family, you had said and the words bounced around in his head over and over again, my family, my family, my family.

Rindou bit the inside of his cheek, trying to calm himself down. He glanced at Ran, taking how his brother’s eyes were wide and trained on you.

Sakuya spluttered, “Excuse m-“

“You heard me,” you interrupted, “Get out of my sight, just looking at you makes me ill.”

Rindou gaped, Ran gaped, Sakuya gaped before fury washed over his face. He stepped forward, fist clenched but Ran and Rindou were there first, grabbing his wrists and holding him in place.

“I would listen to her,” Ran didn’t make any sort of explicit threat but the dark undertone was there—listen to her or we’ll make you.

But Sakuya didn’t look deterred—at least not until a new voice spoke up, “Sakuya, father told us not to antagonize the guests,” a new voice said and Rindou’s gaze darted behind the older boy to a younger one with dark hair and cold eyes that made Rindou feel distinctly uncomfortable.

“Kenji, mind your fuckin business,” Sakuya spit out but even as he said that, he ripped his arms from Ran and Rindou’s arms and stepped away, brushing at his sleeves. “Whatever, a pair of filthy street rats aren’t worth the trouble anyway—gonna catch something if we stay around them any longer.”

Rindou bristled but didn’t say anything as they walked away, not now, he reminded himself over and over and over again. He frowned when he caught sight of the younger boy, Kenji, eyeing you curiously before following after his brother.

You tugged at his and Ran’s wrist immediately and they followed along quietly, pulling them away from prying eyes and toward the stairs that led to the upper floor. You didn’t say anything until you opened the doors to the balcony. The cool night air hit him hard, washing the anger away as the distant sounds of the party became muted.

You leaned against the railing, looking up at the night sky instead of at them, Rindou’s feet moved on his own as he joined you at the railing, Ran lingered back. Rindou tried to shoot him a look but only got ignored. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, “They’re despicable. I should have said something sooner.”

“You shouldn’t have done that,” was all Ran said in response, “Gotten so nasty with them on our behalf, it could have-”

Rindou remembered Miss Yua’s warning, how their actions could have backlash on you, he felt sick.

You only rose your chin, “Don’t be silly, I’ll always defend you guys. I don’t care who it’s against!” you said firmly, and Rindou’s face was so hot that he swore he was on the verge of setting himself on fire. “Even Uncle Ichirou!” 

“Even who?” 

Rindou’s eyes widened at the sound of an unfamiliar male voice from behind the three of them, he watched as your mouth dropped open as you turned around to face the man that Rindou recognized from pictures as your uncle. You looked thrown off for a second before steeling your shoulders, “Even from you!” 

And Rindou tensed, waiting for your uncle to get angry but instead his expression only softened, if only barely, a fond look in his eyes as he looked down at you. 

“I hope they deserve your loyalty,” he murmured as if the two of them weren’t standing right there. Rindou shifted uncomfortably as your uncle’s gaze landed on him, a contemplative expression on his face. “I’ll speak to Sugawara about his boys. They were out of line approaching you as they did. Don’t stay up here too long, people will talk.”

Your shoulders slumped, “It’s stuffy in there and I hate all of them.”

Your uncle clicked his tongue, “Get used to it, this will be your life when you take over Izanagi from me,” he chided.

“I’m not taking over Izanagi!” you said firmly, “I’m going to make my own company and outdo yours, you’ll see!” 

Your uncle raised his eyebrows, an amused smile twitching at his lips before nodding, “Of course,” he said and you looked disgruntled at his tone but your uncle didn’t wait for another response, turning on his heel to walk back toward the event. 

You slumped as soon as he was out of sight, tossing a petulant look in the direction of where he disappeared to, “I will,” you muttered before letting out a loud, exhausted sigh, leaning back onto the railing and looking back up at the sky.  

For a few moments, none of you spoke, instead just basking in the silence of the night and the distant chatter of the party. It was peaceful--genuinely peaceful and Rindou didn’t often get to experience genuine peace like that so he shut his eyes and enjoyed it, letting out a soft breath at the feeling of the light breeze cooling his skin and running through his hair, your arm brushing against his. 

You broke the peace with a loud shout that startled him, his eyes flew open, watching as you pointed toward the sky, “Look! A shooting star! Make a wish, make a wish!” 

“Shooting stars are bullshit,” Ran said immediately.

“Make a wish!” you demanded and Rindou watched as you shut your eyes, looking up at the sky, a smile on your lips and your hands interlocked. His throat felt tight and he couldn’t tear his eyes off of you to make his own wish.

“What’d you guys wish for?” you asked after a moment and Rindou’s gaze darted back up when you reopened your eyes, looking at the sky.

“We can’t tell you, you idiot!” Ran said, “then it doesn’t come true,”

“I thought you said shooting stars are bullshit!” you accused, pointing at Ran and Ran spluttered, looking away.

Rindou took one last long look at your bright smile and Ran’s reddening face, a tight feeling on his throat as he looked back up at the sky, making his wish.

I don’t want this to end.

---

PRESENT.

You couldn’t breathe, it felt like your throat was stuffed with dust, your tongue was sandpaper. Your eyes were open and your vision was dark and blurry. 

Everything was silent.

What had happened?

You couldn’t move, something was on top of you, the lower half of your body was stuck—you couldn’t see and you couldn’t breathe and you couldn’t hear anything.

Something was wrong, you should hear something—you were at the auction, people were here and then-

And then what?

Your breath quickened, your throat burned. You couldn’t remember. Think, you told yourself, you had to th-

“Ah, shit! Takuya, I’m running late to the meeting, i-what do you mean you’re not at Suvala HQ? Who the fuck is there representing us? …. Damn it, Takuya, this looks so bad on us, we-“

“Y/n?” you looked up at the new voice, a smile pulling at your lips as you recognize the man standing in front of you.

“Hm? Oh! Hey, Takuya, I’ll talk to you when we get to the building, be there in 15, okay? … yeah, see you. Gunter! What’s up?”

You couldn’t see anything. Your eyes were opened, you knew they were opened so why? You craned your neck up, wincing at the pain, your heart was erratic in your chest. 

Your face was wet, you could feel something warm dripping down your forehead into your eyes—blood, you realized what had been obscuring your vision. You lifted an arm, gasping in pain as your entire body screamed and ached in protest. You wiped the blood from your face, cringing as it smeared across your skin.

You gagged at the thick scent of iron, of garlic—garlic, the explosion, Hanma, Hanma had thrown himself over you. And Rindou, Rindou was in there and Ran you didn’t know where Ran was.

You wiped more frantically, trying to blink away the spots and blood staining your vision. Your stomach churned uncomfortably, the remnants of the explosion—the smoke, the fire, it reeked, you couldn’t think over the smell it was consuming you just like it had-

“Shouldn’t you be at the meeting?” Gunter Krüger grinned at you, “Here, I grabbed an extra coffee for Felix, was gonna meet him and Adie at the office, you take it. Don’t tell him it was his though, yeah?”

You laughed, taking the coffee from him and a small sip, “Yeah, my uncle’s secretary held me up on the phone at the apartment. I’m running late, bad look, I know,” you told him, “Wanna walk with me over?”

“Yeah, let’s go, it’s a short walk. I can cover for you so it doesn’t look as bad,” Gunter offered as the two of you walked down the street toward the large glass building in the near distance, “Say that I needed help and it took longer than it should have.”

“Don’t tell Felix,” you winked, “but you’re definitely the better brother.”

Gunter burst into laughter, “You say that until Felix saves your ass from one of those board meetings again.”

“True,” you agreed, “This should be the last one though.”

Gunter glanced at you, interested, “The decision’s being made today?” he asked and your smile fell, knowing damn well that the decision being made was not in your favor.

“Yeah, the dec-” but you weren’t even able to finish your sentence, eyes wide and voice faltering as an explosion rocked the very ground you were standing on, sending you and Gunter both careening to the ground.

You had to get up. Your arms trembled as you tried to push yourself up off of the ground. You couldn’t push up, whatever was blocking the lower half of your body was too heavy for you to push off. Panic began to flood through you, the scent of blood got stronger, the air got thicker. You couldn’t breathe.

You lifted your head up, neck aching but you could make out figures--or not figures? You couldn’t tell. 

Not figures, you realized, grimacing at the debris scattered all over the auction hall, broken seats, remnants of the stage, the balcony near the stage. Your eyes darted around, mouth drying when you caught sight of Hanma Shuji laying unmoving several feet away, body half-covered with debris, evidently having been blown off of you during the blast.

You tried to call his name but it felt as if there were ashes stuffed down your throat, your chest felt tight when you noticed the blood pooling beneath him and you tried to push yourself to your feet again, arms shaking violently but you let out a sharp gasp as your body fell limp to the ground as you failed again.

Get up, you begged yourself, get up.

“Y/n, get up!” your ears were ringing and your eyes were wide, the pavement was cool against your cheek but the air was hot around you, uncomfortably so. What the fuck had happened? You could barely breathe, think, much less rise to your feet. 

But someone grabbed your arm, yanking you to your feet, your eyes drifted behind you, falling on Gunter pulling you to your feet, “We gotta get out of here, t-the building, Suvala it-”

“There are people in there,” you gasped but you could barely hear yourself, looking around at the screaming pedestrians, at the familiar building collapsing in on itself in the near distance, “Felix and Adie, Gunter they’re in the building, we-”

You pulled away from him, stumbling forward to run toward Suvala Headquarters, eyes blurring and throat burning, the only thought circling through your head being to get to your friends.

The pressure was pulled off of you and your eyes widened, you tried to push yourself up but a gasp was ripped from your throat as a hand fisted your hair, yanking you to your feet. You winced, pain shooting through you, you could taste blood in your mouth and you could still barely see. 

Your vision was blurry and spotted as you tried to look around, figure out what was going on--the front half of the auction hall was decimated--the explosion came from below, the other side of the building probably. Hanma had mentioned the storeroom was over there--someone had rigged it to explode? The phosphorus? The phosphorus wasn’t even supposed to be in the building, so how-

Hanma, your eyes darted around, he had covered you, you had to-

The grip on your hair tightened, your eyes widened and your lips parted to let out a cry of pain but nothing came out. You felt nauseous as your head was yanked back, turning it to the side, and your eyes fell upon the bloody, scarred face of Sanzu Haruchiyo, pink hair matted to his forehead and cheeks, eyes wild. His lips were moving--he was speaking.

He was speaking?

You couldn’t hear him? 

Panic began to swell as your eyes widened, as you looked around--you couldn’t hear anything. You should hear something--screaming, the aftermath of the explosion, the building collapsing in—but it was all silent, your stomach dropped, your heart caved in.

Sanzu’s grip tightened on your hair, something sharp pressed against your neck and you gasped as you were forced back down onto your knees, grimacing as a sharp piece of wood dug into your calf, throat burning uncomfortably.

Your knees hit the ground hard, tearing holes into the cloth of your pants as Gunter crashed into you from behind, preventing you from getting any closer to the building. His hands curled around your bicep, holding you in place as you tried to scramble back to your feet.

“Gunter let me go! Let me go! Felix is fucking in there, Felix and Adie, we-”

“If you go in there, you’ll die,” he shouted but his words were barely registering, you couldn’t tear your eyes off of the building, over the billowing thick, white smoke that was expanding over the street and the sky about Suvala Headquarters, the fire that was spreading to nearby buildings, a park full of children. You tried to push him off, his grip tightened, “We have to get out of here.”

“Felix and Adie-”

“They’re dead,” Gunter roared, and you could hear his voice crack. His wife, his brother, they- “If the explosion didn’t kill them, the smoke and fire did--do you smell that?”

Sharp pungent, like garlic--you couldn’t breathe, you barely even think but you were able to recognize what it might mean. Phosphorus? There was no way-

“We need to get out of here--the fire’s just going to keep spreading, we can’t let that shit touch us,” Gunter was tugging you to your feet, dragging you away, and you watched--you couldn’t bring yourself to cooperate as you watched a group of teachers desperately try to evacuate a nearby elementary school, as civilians ran into the building and ultimately to their deaths trying to help.

The smoke was toxic, the fire was spreading faster than people could run-

The fire, your eyes darted around, the smoke was rising on the other side of the room, fire spreading. You had to get out of here.

You tried to tug at Sanzu Haruchiyo’s wrist, “Fire,” you tried to say but you couldn’t hear yourself, you didn’t know if he could hear you, you didn’t even know if the words were coming out correctly, “We have to get out of here, the fire-”

The grip on your hair tightened, shutting you up, you inhaled sharply as something sharp dug harder into your neck--a knife?

Your head felt fuzzy and you would have swayed were it not for Sanzu holding you up, your eyes drifted around, vision doubled and you caught sight of Hanma on his hands and knees, something puncturing his side, blood dribbling from his mouth and smeared across his face but he was alive and as much as the man might cause you discomfort, you were relieved because you were pretty sure he had saved your life.

He was saying something, you could see his lips moving but you couldn’t hear and you couldn’t quite make out the words through the movements of his lips. He was angry, spitting out words, gaze directed toward you and Sanzu. 

You couldn’t breathe, everything hurt--the people, there were so many people in the auction hall. You tried to look around but Sanzu yanked your head back again, you grit your teeth. Your lungs burned and you couldn’t-

-breathe. You couldn’t breathe. Gunter was dragging you by the wrist away from the building, People were slamming into you, desperate to get away, some were trying to run in the opposite direction, yelling for who you assumed were loved ones that were supposed to be in the area.

You felt sick, you couldn’t breathe, you could barely even think, the only thing that kept you going was the hand wrapped around your wrist. He was talking to you but you could barely hear him over the screams and the fire roaring and spreading in the distance. 

What had happened? Phosphorus, that had to be intentional, who would target Suvala? Y-

“I’ll handle it.”

You felt cold, which was strange because the heat of the explosion and the fire should have been overwhelming. There were more people--someone was helping Hanma to his feet and you could only barely recognize Mina. Relief swept through you like a tidal wave, he was okay. Your lips parted to say something but no words left your mouth.

There was someone on the ground next to them, Mina was holding him by the neck.

Kokonoi? You recognized, blood drenching his white hair--he was hit in the head during the explosion. His eyes were unfocused as they fell on you, dazed, blood dribbled from his nose and his lip was split. He had been punched too, you realized, eyeing Mina’s bruised fist.

You felt the knife that Sanzu had at your throat press deeper, Mina’s face twisted, he yelled something, his grip on Kokonoi’s throat tightened. 

A stand-off, you realized, catching sight of the man that had interrupted Ran and Rindou from interrogating you, Kakucho, looking between you and Sanzu and Mina and Kokonoi warily, as if unsure what to do. He held out a hand toward Sanzu, lips moving and you wanted to scream because you couldn’t hear and you didn’t know what they were saying or how you could help.

You could never help, everything that went wrong was always your fault. You never should have come back to Tokyo and-

“I never should have asked you for help!” you screamed at the phone that was laying on the ground of your apartment a few feet away, your uncle was silent on the other end. You pulled at your hair, sobs and dry heaves wracking your body, the news played in the background. “I didn’t mean like this, you know I didn’t mean this!”

“There is no risk of this being pointed back at you. It’s all under control.”

“That’s not what I’m fucking worried about!” 

Mina was shouting, his grip on Kokonoi’s throat was tightening. You could read his lips now but the words weren’t registering in your head--I’ll snap his fucking neck if you don’t let her go. 

“Investigations on the tragedy at Munich point toward a lack of continuity in safety inspections leading to a massive gas line leak.” 

Sanzu shook you violently, blood dribbled down your neck, the knife cut deeper into your skin.

“Nearly six thousand killed in the horrific gas pipe leak at the Suvala office in Munich.”

You had to get out of the auction hall, your hands were trembling, the floor creaked dangerously, the fire was spreading to the walls behind you and it was hot, it was so hot that you felt cold. If you stayed any longer, the smoke and the heat, it would cause irreparable damage. 

“Phosphorus munitions involved in the devastating incident at Munich? Eyewitnesses claim so! What isn’t the government telling us? Why are they trying to brush this off as a gas pipe leak?”

“Have to get out,” you gasped but you still couldn’t hear yourself and you felt sick, you brought a hand up to your ear, desperately trying to blink back the tears that formed when you felt the blood. “The smoke is toxic, the fire-”

“You will get on that stage and announce the merging of Suvala and Izanami. I do not care for your personal feelings on the matter, y/n. I gave you what you asked for, the means of how it happened is inconsequential now. Take advantage of the opportunity or be swallowed by those who will.”

Your body was snapped to the side, your vision went black, pain shot through your head, you reeled trying to figure out what had happened. Your head, Sanzu bashed your head into the debris of the chairs.

“In light of recent events, I, l/n y/n, founder and chief executive of Izanami Connect, will take it upon myself to step in for Chairman Krüger after the tragedy in Munich as previous negotiations dictated. As I move to bring the company under Izanami’s wing, I will take steps to ensure a disaster like this will never occur again. I swear to do right by all of the families affected by this tragedy.”

Your shoulder hit the ground hard, a gasp ripped from your chest, pain ricocheted through your body so intense that it had you blacking out for a second, vision spotty and head fuzzy. Your arms trembled as you tried to push yourself up only to crash back toward the ground. You turned your head to the side, still trying to figure out what was going on.

Your mouth dried as you caught sight of Rindou grabbing Sanzu by the collar, driving his fist into his face over and over and over again and your lips parted to call out for him, eyes blurring with tears because he was alive, he was fucking alive and that all that mattered because the last time-

“L/n-san, I’m so sorry for your loss. I know you were close to both of the Krüger brothers. Chairman Krüger in the explosion and now Gunter… It must be so hard.”

The last time none of them survived. 

Or, well. 

You supposed one actually did. You felt sick. Gunter is alive.

Kakucho rushed toward Rindou, trying to pull him off of Sanzu and someone grabbed your arm hard, yanking you back to your feet. You turned your head, eyes wide, but relaxed when you realized it was Mina, he was looking over you, speaking to you, but you couldn’t hear. You shook your head, trying to focus on his lips but you were seeing double, triple, you couldn’t focus.

Mina seemed to realize, instead only wrapping an arm around your waist to help steady you before motioning for Hanma to follow, fleeing the auction hall and you wanted to scream, tell Rindou to get the fuck out of there but you could barely breathe, your vision was going spotty again as Mina jostled you around, the pain becoming too much for your body to handle before it finally gave out on you.

--- 

You weren’t sure how long it took for you to come back to but your entire body ached and burned when you did. You grimaced at the light, wincing as you tried to push yourself up to figure out where the fuck you were. 

“Careful,” a familiar, gruff voice murmured, “You got fucked up back there, take it easy.”

“No shit,” you muttered, looking at Mina, wincing as your neck shrieked in pain in response to the movement, “Where are we?”

“A safe house,” a new voice said and your gaze drifted to the other side of you, where Hanma Shuji was laying on a bed, shirt rolled up as a middle-aged woman worked on stitching up a wound on his side. Amber eyes watched you curiously, “You’re already up.”

“No shit,” you repeated and Hanma snorted in amusement. “Where’s everybody else? Kawaragi? The guys she was with?”

Hanma looked away. Your eyes turned to Mina, whose lips were pressed together tight before he spoke, “Haven’t heard from her. Apparently, she was supposed to be where the bombs went off, doubt she made it out.”

Oh, something familiar and unwelcome squeezed at your chest. You pushed it away. Stop, you barely even knew her. 

“Bombs? Plural?” you narrowed in, trying to remember if there was more than one explosion but your mind was being torn to shreds and you couldn’t focus enough to remember. 

“Mm,” Mina agreed, “There were two explosions--a smaller one, which we assume was a grenade or something of the sort that set off the phosphorus munitions. Fucking lucky that the majority of it was being held in another warehouse otherwise we’d be melted right now.”

You felt ill. You opened your mouth to speak but paused when you noticed movement from the corner of your eye: Hanma waving away the nurse carelessly, teeth grit as he pushed himself to his feet, rolling his shirt back down, “C’mon, Sugawara wanted to talk to us when you woke up.” 

Mina looked between you and Hanma, a protest on his lips but Hanma simply ignored him, holding a hand out toward you.

“Why?” you asked warily, dread pooling in your gut. 

Hanma shrugged, “Didn’t explain,” he said simply, glancing down at his hand pointedly. Reluctantly, you took his hand, letting him help you to your feet and hook an arm around your waist to help you walk steady.

Mina rose to his feet, eyes narrowed. A mocking smile curled to Hanma’s lips, “Relax, I’ll bring her right back,” he cooed and Mina’s eye twitched, he stepped forward.

You shook your head and he frowned but stepped back, the wary expression not leaving his face, “I’ll be back,” you told him as Hanma started moving toward the exit of the room, not giving Mina any time to respond. As the two of you walked down the tiled floors of the hall outside the room, a dry comment rose to your lips, “Thought Sugawara said he’d bet his life the weapons weren’t at the auction hall.”

The mocking smile on Hanma’s face shifted into a crueler one, a playful look in his eyes that you weren’t quite sure how you felt about, as he looked down at you, “Maybe we should hold him to that, yeah?” 

You forced yourself not to let your eyes widen at the statement as Hanma pulled you down another hall toward a large open room, letting go of you as soon as you got in sight of the others in the room. No showing weakness, you understood as he forced himself not to wince with every step--he had been leaning on you for help as much as he had been helping you, you realized with a frown.

You shook your head, focusing on keeping yourself steady instead of Hanma Shuji so you didn’t make a fool of yourself in front of the other executives of Sugawara’s organization.

Your uncle was here, you noticed the grim look on his face and frowned. He refused to meet your eyes and an unsettling feeling took over--the woman from the meeting, Alyona, was standing next to him and on her other side, looking down at something you couldn’t quite see from where you were standing was Sugawara. 

He smiled bright when he saw you and Hanma, “Shuji, y/n, there you are! We’ve been waiting. I’m glad you’re okay, I heard the explosion was pretty bad.”

Pretty bad, your ears rung as you stared at him, certain that you must not have heard him correctly. Three-quarters of the people in that auction hall were probably killed. And he’s-

“It’s a shame it didn’t take out any of the Bonten executives though,” he frowned, and your eyes narrowed--how did he know that already? You glanced at Hanma but his expression was also tight and you could see the confusion spotting his eyes, “But! It’s not all bad news because we managed to get our hands on one of their executives anyway!” 

Tunneled. Your vision tunneled and the sound around you muted. 

Got our hands on one? But…

Your eyes drifted to the center of attention of the rest of the room, the figure tied on the ground, and at once, your entire world fell apart--the breath ripped from your lungs, the air around you became oppressive and suffocating, everything crumbled in a matter of seconds. 

Ran.

---

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Blossom fully (deep in my bones)

(Teacher!JK x Collegestudent!Reader) - PREVIEW

This is just a small preview of the fic that I’m writing currently. Please tell me if you’d like to be in the taglist - you could comment on this post or direct message me 🥺❤️

Love. Adoration. Lust. For Jeon Jungkook, his entire life, they had been just words, nothing more – after all, these were just concepts made by society, what if people had not known about the concept of love? Would they still try to find it? Would they still be willing to work for it? Then, you came into his life, and gave meaning to those words.

“Welcome to the annual football championship between Seoul Nation University and Sungkyunkwan University 2020!”

“Break his jaw!” Jungkook heard the other team chant, while looking at him. He just scoffed while adjusting his gloves, as if.

“Really? Think you can do it? Go ahead and try,” Jungkook mocked them across the field, his tongue poking against his left cheek.

Jungkook was never set out for failure, it was never allowed in his life – because he knew for a fact that his father would have his throat if he didn’t turn out to be the best of the best.

At age five, he had a strict workout regime and had less than 10 percent body fat, maintained till present date. He had also learnt that he would rather be loved than feared, he hated the look in the eyes of his classmates when he accidentally punched his seatmate, Byung-chul. Just because he had taken his red crayon without asking. Now, no one would sit next to him at lunch. He told himself that he didn’t mind it, he didn’t need stupid friends to be happy, but he couldn’t help but cry at night because no one wanted to play on the see-saw with him. He knew if he asked them, they would have no choice other than to say yes, after all, they didn’t want to end up like Byung-chul, hospitalized, with a broken arm. But what’s the use, if they don’t actually want to be with him?

Age seven, he had landed his first punch on his butler when he saw him abuse his dog. He didn’t know what to tell to his therapist, how could he explain that all he saw was red when he saw Yeontan being thrown out of the room? How could he explain that he had no control over his body? How could he explain that he couldn’t control the beast in him that had pounced over the man?

A/N: basically kook is a med professor and yn is a medical college student lol 😳🤭 kook has some anger management issues sighghghghgh, anyways might play around and turn this into a 10k word long fic and post it in like 2 dayzzzz, later losers (jk love u)

realizing he loves you

⤷ iwaizumi, oikawa, kyotani, kenma, atsumu ; [gn!reader]

WARNINGS/GENRE: fluff, mild swearing, food mention (iwa)

NOTES: aha reblogs are so cute :lipbite: please and thank you ;-;

━━ iwaizumi;

he doesn’t realize he’s falling in love until someone points it out to him — which surprisingly doesn’t take long. iwaizumi, who generally didn’t take time to learn random facts about people, knowing every little detail about you? strange.

“do you think y/n would appreciate it if I got these?” iwaizumi asked, squatting down to pick up a bag of your favorite candies. “they usually like these, but not really this brand.”

oikawa raised an eyebrow at his friend. he knew the two of you were dating, but he hadn’t realized iwaizumi had noted something like that. a smile worked at the corner of oikawa’s lips.

at the lack of his friend’s answer, iwaizumi turned to look at him. “why are you smiling? if you’d like me to buy you somethin’ too, go pick somethin’ out, damn.”

“hey, iwaizumi,” oikawa smiled again. “what is y/n’s favorite flower?”

“well, I got them- wait, why do you care?”

“you love them, don’t you?”

“n- uhm,” iwaizumi cleared his throat, setting the candies next to the register. “just let me buy my damn candy in peace.”

━━ oikawa;

oikawa thinks he’s been in love before. and he has, sure, but it’s never been like this. it’s almost painful; he just wants to tell you all the time, to climb to the highest point and yell it to every person in the world.

he was staring. he knew that, but he didn’t really care.

feeling eyes on you, you turned and flashed him a smile, asking him what was wrong. but he shook his head and smiled back. and he really was fine for the most part. just a little distracted.

“really?” you pressed. “something is on your mind, just tell me.”

oikawa shook his head once more. “can’t tell you yet. it’s top secret, shh.”

you narrowed your eyes at him playfully, but turned back around in your seat at the order of your teacher. his eyes never really left you though. it wasn’t in a creepy way — at least he hoped it wasn’t. he just likes to admire you.

he liked to imprint you into his mind, keeping you there long enough that he could imagine how you’d react when he finally felt bold enough to tell you the truth.

because he does love you, but he doesn’t know how to tell you that.

━━ kyotani;

he knows that he loves you when he starts to value your opinion. he wouldn’t give anyone else the time of day, so why does he always find himself thinking that your every word is like gospel?

“you love them.” oikawa stated simply, staring at him from across the table.

normally kyotani wouldn’t participate in the team’s adventures to restaurants after games, but you had plans, and he had nothing better to do.

“no, I don’t.” kyotani stated, glaring at oikawa.

oikawa’s lips curled up into a smile. he knew that he was right, that kyotani was wrong. but he also knew that he would never be able to talk sense into the other guy. not alone, anyway.

“really?” hanamaki asked, quirking a brow. “so you didn’t light up whenever you saw y/n at the game today? and you definitely didn’t start blushing when they complimented you after?”

kyotani blinked a few times, staring at the other people at the table. then he rolled his eyes, looking down at his plate, though he was just pushing his food around the plate.

“...shut up.” was all that he responded with, but he was starting to consider what they’d said.

━━ kenma;

the idea that he loves you starts small. and then the spark turns into a flame, though kenma still refuses to believe there’s a fire at all until it’s burning him.

kenma knew that this was in no way normal... but he couldn’t help it. he didn’t have a full-blown love for you, but he couldn’t help but think about you so often.

what started off a simple adoration had somehow turned into him thinking about you every second of every day. as if that wasn’t enough, everything reminded him of you.

video games had once been his escape from the rest of the world; a nice way to block out all of his problems. of course, he could never see you as a problem, but he hated this feeling. he wishes he could put a name on it.

however, that was short lived. even games that required his full focus and attention, there were things that reminded him of you.

it was frustrating, to say the least.

“kenma,” kuroo said, smiling at his friend. “I know you don’t wanna think about it, and you won’t admit it to yourself, but you love them. it’s kinda obvious.”

oh.

━━ atsumu;

he likes to think he can deny his feelings until the day that he’s six feet under, but he can’t. eventually he finds himself unable to shake the thought of you, and he thinks that is what is slowly going to kill him

the red lights of his alarm clock seemed to be mocking him. he knew that it was almost one in the morning, but it’s not like he could help it.

thoughts of you had been running rampant in his head all day. it was making him sick, he’s sure of it.

rather, the fact that he could never get sick of you is making him sick. and he hates that — because of all the people in the world, he was stuck on you, the person he didn’t know how to tell.

it was close to three in the morning whenever he finally decided enough was enough. he hoped you were asleep by now and that he could play this off in the morning whenever he was thinking more rationally.

after reaching for his phone, he took a deep breath, and opened his messages.

“hey do you think i can ask you smth? unless ur asleep i mean”

“no i’m still up !! what did u wanna ask?”

❤️❤️❤️

Taglist for Brothers Conflict

Reblog this post if you would like to be added to the taglist for this story.

◈ Summary: Your father marrying, and you suddenly having to live under the same roof with seven step brothers was a royal mess or so you had thought, Because them falling in love with you was so much worse. Or was it?

◈ Genre: Romance, Fluff, Humour, Smut and maybe a little angst. (PG-18) (step brother AU) (They are all adopted, I do NOT support incest, this work is inspired by the popular anime/manga Brothers Conflict)

◈ Pairings: OT7 x Reader (final pairing: will be decided by readers, could also be ot7)

chapter one

masterlist (all chapters can be found linked there)

᯽ warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, oral fixation, fem reader & pet names. Finger sucking, daddy kink. Draken babies reader, as he should, implied cockwarming.

᯽ Oral fixation off the charts today. Had to get this out because my brain rotted

Draken was reading through the news on his phone, one arm laying across the back of the couch while his eyes shifted over the words on the screen. It was a pleasant morning, the sun shining through the blinds, casting streams of golden along his black hair that was hanging lose around his shoulders

He didn’t take his eyes off his eyes phone when he felt you settle between his thighs that were spread apart. He also didn’t take his eyes off his phone when he felt your cheek pressing up against his right thigh, a little hum leaving your pouting lips.

“Kenny?”

“Yea baby?” He still didn’t look at you. It’s only when one of your hands lifted to his holding his phone, fingers fiddling with one of the rings on his finger that his dark gaze fell to you. You were still pouting and it made him smile a little.

“Kenny” You repeated again, and he caught the subtle whine in your tone.

“Yes, lil love?” He asks, sitting up a bit from his spot, finally setting down his phone so you could take his hand into both of yours. You were looking up at him through your lashes, tongue poking out to lick at your pretty pouty lips. You continues to play with his hand, tracing the one of the larger veins that crossed the back of his palm. “You need somethin?”

You nodded, your eyes fluttered a bit. Your gaze left his to look at his hand, before looking back up to him while nibbling on your lower lip. You cheek pressed further into his thigh when his grin grew, and finally you couldn’t help but whine. A soft, little whine.

“Mhm.. need—“ you licked your lips again. “Really want your fingers..” you trailed off as you brought his hand closer to your face. You pressed a kiss to the cold metal of the rings on his middle finger and ring finger, your eyes seeming to get a little glossy layer when he chuckled softly.

“Yea?” He spreads his legs a little further, his free hand patting the thigh you’re not leaning on. “C’mere, up.”

You don’t hesitate to crawl into his lap, curling yourself comfortably in his lap as you keep his hand held tightly in yours. You whined again, this time the sound vibrating through his skin cause your lips were pressed up against his knuckles.

“Open your mouth, pretty.” He murmured, his lashes lowering a bit as you obediently lulled your glossy lips open. His two fingers, specifically the two with the rings, didn’t hesitate to sink between your lips. Pads of his fingers pressed to your tongue as you closed your mouth around him, the pleased mewl you make around the digits making his pants feel a little tighter. Your eyes are shiny when you look up to him again, and he couldn’t help but picture little hearts in your eyes when you suckled his digits.

“That’s my good girl…” he murmurs softly, relaxing into the couch and letting you lay on him further. His other hand rubs your thigh, squeezing the familiar doughy flesh in his hand and gently massaging. “Just needed somethin between these pretty lips, didn’t ya?”

You nod, nice and slow and hum against his fingers. Your tongue pokes at his fingers, smoothing over his rings and sighing deeply out your nose. A little bit of drool bubbles from the corner of your lip and draken can’t help but chuckle fondly at you.

His cute little baby.

“Can suck on em all you want, okay?” You nod, eyes now getting a bit narrowed as your brain turns off. Just how he likes it. Loves seeing you pliant and soft, just for him. He pets your tongue, wetting his own lips as both your hands wrap around his much larger wrist. It makes his cock twitch under you.

“Then daddy’s gunna give you his cock. I know this pretty little mouth will keep it warm f’me.”

Tagging: @tokyometronetwork and sister wives @tokyomanjihoe @1990-06-12 <333

chapter 1 : the loser in the seat next to you.

no quirk au, mentions of fighting and violence, the yakuza and my very little knowledge of it, privates schools..i have no experience w them, gang violence, found family trope my love, crime syndicate boss daughter! reader, badboy bodyguard! katsuki x fem reader, sunshine reader, reader cries and is shy around new ppl, hurt/BIG comfort, CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO LUVERS TROPE MY STAR, almost polar opposites, jealous katsuki, reader has a last name but it will be explained later, original characters, izuku catches many strays i promise i lub him yall, touchy katsu touchy reader, slight romantic tension ouuuu, mentions of food n cooking, lemme know if i missed sum (might add more in future chapters !)

a/n : BIG 4K CHAPTER RAGHHH TYSM!!

katsuki cannot remember a single time prior to living with you that anybody had taken care of him.

he thinks his parents might’ve. he doesn’t care to remember them and it’s not like he could, he was a baby when they’d dropped him off in the shithole he called home for eleven years, but at the very least they’d tried to drop him off somewhere where he could’ve had another chance. where he could’ve been taken in by different people and were his circumstances different he could’ve ended up being someone else’s son with someone else’s last name.

but he’s not. and that’s the most care he’s been shown.

his caretakers, and he uses the term loosely, seemed to think that as long as he stayed alive, that as long as he had food is his belly and water to drink he was taken care of enough. and to be fair, katsuki thought that was enough for him too, cus he didn’t know anything else.

alliances and groups were always formed with ulterior motives in mind. associate yourself with someone stronger than you so you could stay on their good side, get in the stronger people’s good graces and rat out the ones lagging behind so you wouldn’t be left alone. they were always for protection but never a mutual one.

and that’s why he didn’t like being in groups, the thought of not knowing what all these other people who claim to be on your side truly think about you made katsuki nervous. trust was for losers like tadashi, some moron who always talked big shit just because he was apart of some well known group in town. only for him to get a tooth knocked out by one of his squad mates and ever since that day no one ever heard him speak again and everyone called him no tooth tadashi.

trust was for idiots, and katsuki was far from one. so he pushed people away, he kicked and stomped and broke people who thought they could use him for their own protection. because if there’s one thing he hates it's when people use him.

trust was for morons and protection was for weaklings, he didn’t need anyone to take care of him. he didn’t even know how to, but if this was it he didn’t want any part of it.

it’s about 9 am and you’re still in bed. katsuki thanks his lucky star because he’s sure if you ever caught him watching mr. nakazawa cook he’d never hear the end of it. and then he’d have to stop watching because you’d insist he wake you up at the same time as him.

he doesn’t know what’s being made but from the smell alone he can tell it’ll be delicious. he can’t see too well what’s happening, only being able to see and hear some rhythmic cutting and the sizzling of a pan.

“you could come over here if you wanna get a closer look,” katsuki jumps at the man’s voice, his eyes widen but he tentatively steps inside of the kitchen.

“how’d you know i was here ?” he asks quietly, the white haired man smiles knowingly, his eyes not leaving the pan in front of him.

"i've got really sharp senses on me." his hands aren't stopping in their motions, katsuki wonders how skilled you have to be to make two different motions with your hands, he can't do it.

"they're important when you're cooking, you gotta know which spices to use, make sure ya don't burn anythin'.." katsuki listens intently as the chef talks, eyes drifting towards the pan. karage pops and crackles, two omurices lay sizzling on another pan. one for you and one for him and katsuki feels his chest tingle, he still needs to remind himself the feeling isn't a bad one despite the burn he feels.

there are some fruits for dessert sitting on the side still uncut, katsuki recognizes your favourite sitting amongst them. "if you want, you could help me out. i'm kinda in need of a hand since 'im being overworked by the big boss." mr. nakazawa's voice cuts through katsuki's train of thought, he sighs like he's exhausted but there's a slight smile on his face.

katsuki looks towards the hallway before looking back at the older male "mr. matsumoto already left, though ?"

"it's miss yn i'm talkin' about, the kid can be a real handful. you wouldn't believe how much food she has me make !" he jests, and katsuki snorts to himself when he comments about how your stomach was a black hole, he agrees.

"so," the cook nudges katsuki slightly "wanna help me out ?"

and usually, katsuki doesn't help anybody, and if he somehow does it's not unless he can get something from it. so he doesn't understand why he nods so eagerly. he hates when people order him around, he never listens to what anyone has to say yet he carries you on his back when you ask and he listens immediately when mr. nakazawa asks him to go wash his hands first. he follows his instructions on how to cut the fruit properly and his end up looking a bit wonky, but mr. nakazawa tells him it's a start and he'll do better next time. next time..

katsuki's never had anybody take care of him, but his chest tightens and he thinks this might be it.

you wake up a little bit later, rubbing sleepily at your eyes only for them to bulge when you see him and mr. nakazawa in the kitchen. said man claps katsuki's back and proudly exclaims to you that katsuki had cut up the fruit you were eating. your favourite ones. katsuki feels his ears burn and he looks away, he doesn't understand why the older man is so happy and boasting about something he himself didn't do. he doesn't understand why you don't comment on how wonky your fruits looked compared to the one's the chef had chopped. instead you ask him if it's true, if he'd really cut these for you. so he nods because katsuki hates lying, cheeks and ears burning. you beam and continue eating, thanking him and mr. nakazawa for all their hard work as you happily munch away.

katsuki finally sits down next to you getting his own portion of food. he didn't get to help out much today, but he's determined to wake up earlier tomorrow so he can cook even more and cut up even more fruits for you. so he can learn to make them less wonky and have mr. nakazawa teach him more so you can enjoy more and more of the food he's made.

katsuki's never taken care of anyone because nobody ever cared for him. but he thinks that this might be it.

the first day katsuki ever goes to school, he decides he already hates it with a passion.

school itself isn't really hard. sure, it's his first day, but it's super easy. and most of the teachers are nice to him, even though he doesn't need them to be since he's had way worse. he just doesn't like the looks he gets. there's too many people in one class, all looking at him because he's new. he feels like some kind of zoo animal.

they're probably looking at him because of the stink eye he has and the glares he shoots at his new classmates. you'd told him once that some people might be scared of him because of his looks--and that was completely fine with him. he'd much rather stay in his comfort zone. he doesn't want people to look at him curiously, he wants the only reason people look at him to be out of weariness of him, like if they were to look away for even a second he'd pounce on them. he likes that.

you're the complete opposite though. katsuki thinks it's weird that you do such a big 180 when you see new people. your dad had told him that this would be both your first days since you'd been homeschooled until then. you cling to him the entire day and he doesn't mind it 'cus you always do, but you're quiet. you aren't chatty and bratty like you always are. you sit next to him quietly during breaks and at one point you don't come back from the bathroom and katsuki, who had been waiting for you ( he can't just run off, he is your bodyguard after all) gets tired of waiting and makes his way over to the girls bathroom, getting some strange looks but he doesn't care. only to stop dead in his tracks when he hears sniffling.

you're crying.

katsuki doesn't take care of people, he doesn't help people. because he's never been taken care of. or because he doesn't need it or maybe because he just doesn't know how to. but he knocks at your stall door, the door rattles with how hard he knocks at it while your whimpers make his skin itch. he tells you he'll beat up the person who did this no matter who they are and to hurry up and come out 'cus he's here.

you tell him that everyone keeps looking at you weirdly, that they whisper about you and that it makes you nervous and that you don't like it, that you want to go home. and katsuki who has no idea how to take care of people, who will probably get in trouble if someone were to see him in here but could care less because you're still crying and that irritates him, tells you that you just needed to point someone out, and he'd do it.

"i don't care if it's everyone in school, even if it's the fuckin' principal, i'll beat up everyone who looked at you weird, okay ?" he urges. so he tells you to stop crying and that he'd take you home. you ask him why, why he'd get himself in trouble for you. even though you joked the night before that if he kept looking nasty he wouldn't be able to make any friends and he'd told you to shut up.

he tells you it's because he's your bodyguard, and katsuki wonders if this is taking care of somebody too.

so yeah, school's super easy. and the teachers aren't bad, but it made you cry, and katsuki decides he hates it with a passion.

when you get to senior year, you're not sitting next to katsuki anymore.

it's been a crazy couple of years since then, and you've gotten better at interacting with people. you've made some acquaintances, but you still cling to katsuki the most. you don't have him carry you on his back (as much) anymore but you've still kept some of your older routines. katsuki's gotten better at cutting up your fruits and cooking in general, so much so that you insist on him cooking your lunch everyday. katsuki tells you not to be stupid, that you should learn to cook on your own. but he helps you like mr. nakazawa once did for him, sure not as gently but considering his line of work he doesn't need to be. and you're learning so that's a win.

he's come a long way from weekly training sessions with your dad and your other uncles. he still isn't allowed to go out on missions that involve killing, that's one thing he is strictly forbidden from asking for. but he gets to go along with other squad member on what your uncle takashi called a règlement de compte. basically, a bunch of dumb french words to say he finds people that fucked with members of his squad or their turf—and fucks them up good.

this is what he's good at, what he's good with. he's good when there's no talking involved. when it's just flying fists and the familiar sting of his knuckles and the adrenaline pumping through him. he hates it when people underestimate him, especially because they're older than him. but he thrives off the looks of fear they give him when he ends up rocking their shit. he's undefeated and the most feared member of his squad and he feels like he's a little kid again. when whispers of him would circle and even just a glance at him made people backtrack in fear. some even called him matsumoto's mad dog, and it's something he's insanely proud of.

and of course, he's still your bodyguard.

but in school he's none of that. he's just katsuki bakugou. a boy some teachers call a delinquent who looks kinda scary. and the boy who never starts fights, but always finishes them.

and then there's you, who hangs out with him everyday. you who calls him katsu or suki and other cheesy stupid nicknames. who pulls his cheeks up to get him to smile more and look him straight in the eyes and tells him he'll get wrinkles by next year if he keeps looking nasty.

you're a sweet little thing. you help your classmates and you get along with them easily. you do good in the subjects you like and manage in the ones you don't as long as katsuki tutors you. you're funny, and you're easy to get along with and your smile absolutely lights up the room (you didn't hear that last part from him though).

on the surface, your father owns a pretty successful business. which landed you both into a private school. katsuki hates how he has to wear the same annoying uniform every day and he'd ditched his jacket not too long after getting it. you'd enjoyed it at first, but you quickly got tired of it too, although you still keep your jacket and added some cute socks to add your own personal touch to it.

from elementary, middle and high school you've always consistently sat right next to katsuki in class. he never admitted it but he really liked that. not only because you were the only person he liked tolerated at school, but also because he could pick on you and poke you with his pencil. you could whisper dumb jokes to each other and he could easily pass you crudely drawn notes of the teachers you disliked. he remembers one time you'd gotten in trouble and had to clean up the classroom as punishment after class. but you got in trouble together and you ended up messing up the classroom even worse than it was before, but you'd had a blast and you walked out of school right next to him.

but this year, you're not sitting next to him anymore. you're sitting next to some new kid.

he reminds him of one of the golden boys at his old orphanage so much that katsuki wonders if he'd ever seen him before. izuku midoriya looks like if the teacher spoke any louder while introducing him he'd piss his pants. katsuki fights the urge to scoff.

he looks unbearably plain. boring, uninteresting and every other adjective. the green haired boy looks like he'd get bullied by the janitor. like he'd fall onto the floor and apologise to the floor for being in its way.

basically, he looked like a loser.

and he's the one who sits next to you.

katsuki's been moved to a row behind and across from you, next to somebody he can't be bothered to remember the name of. on the very first day nothing happens, he watches you greet the freckled boy politely and he squeaks out something to make you laugh, it's probably stupid.

the next day, midoriya forgets his literature book, so you share yours with him. katsuki would've just told him it was too damn bad but you're not like him. your shoulders brush when you sit closer to him so you can both look. you flash him a smile and the boy flushes all the way to his ears, so stupid.

throughout the week you keep talking with midoriya. katsuki doesn't understand what's so special about a seemingly boring guy, when you've literally got a bodyguard. (it's not like the others know, but still). you keep touching him, too. you always let him borrow the notebooks he forgets and you even fixed his tie once. katsuki doesn't wear his tie, he'd stopped wearing it back in his freshman year, but he wishes you'd fix his too. it's childish and it's stupid.

on the way home, you mention how nice izuku is. he's forgotten that was the loser's name and something ugly flares up inside him when you say his name like that, all sweet and stupid and mushy. the tone you use when you want him to make you pancakes because he does them so well. he acts like he doesn't care.

katsuki doesn't sit next to you anymore, but at home it's just you and him. and when it's just you and him you have your weekly movie nights on weekends, a tradition for years now that katsuki has stopped pretending to be upset about. you and him, sharing popcorn and your finger brushing and you sleeping against his shoulder when you get tired. when you fall asleep and katsuki watches your lashes as you dream, it's just you and him.

a few weeks later, you stay behind after school. apparently izuku needs some help with maths. and you're sweet and different from katsuki who would've told him it was his loss, so you'll be home a bit later. katsuki can't control the muscles in his face in time because he makes a face, but he shrugs and turns away. (not before watching you happily skip off with the freckled loser, who mirrors your expression. he watches your lips move, and he wonders what you're talking about.)

katsuki thinks it's stupid. why does he have to listen to you ? he's your bodyguard, he's supposed to stay and keep you safe. but that smile on your face while you talk to the other guy, that would be too much for him.it irritates him to think about it. so he grips his bag tighter, clenches his teeth and walks back alone.

he can't ask you how it went when you get home because he has another score to settle with some no name gang. it irritates him, but he thinks he can blow some steam by punching someone's face in. he doesn't want to admit that he thinks about that freckled fucking loser when his fist makes contact with the bastard he had to find. because that's stupid, and katsuki is far from that.

he'd been more careless than usual tonight, so when he comes back you see the small cut on his nose. you're whining about how he should be more careful despite knowing what line of work he's been put in. it's irritating but katsuki doesn't want to admit that it doesn't bother him as much today. he wants to ask you how your little study date went, but he can't fix his lips to, he hates the way that sounds. and you're already dragging him off to your room where your medkit is. katsuki wants you to smile at him.

katsuki sits down onto your bed, your soft sheets make contact with his skin, he tries his best not to dirty them. your rooms changed some throughout the years, your interests changing along with you.

the first time you'd tried to patch katsuki up was when he was 14 and he'd gotten into a fight. he can't remember what for, but he does remember how you cried. he didn't understand why you did at the time, especially since you were angry at him too, so it confused him even more. you tussled a bit when katsuki refused you but a bandaid on him, saying he could do it by himself. then you'd screamed at him, your voice cracking and breaking, eyebrows furrowed. he can't remember what you'd said fully, too shocked by your expression. wether it was that he was too stubborn for his own good or that he could get an infection. he sat still after your babbling and you both sit quietly. you finally press the bandaid to his face and while you cleaned up his knuckles, you whispered.

"i really don't like it when you get hurt."

you know he's your bodyguard, that sometimes he just has to get hurt. 'cus he's apart of your dad's clan and they get hurt too. they got him out of the nightmare he lived in and it wouldn't be fair that he didn't get hurt as well. your bandages are a little loose because you'd never done this before, but katsuki doesn't say anything. after you'd finished he mumbled "i won't let anyone get a hit on me anymore."

i'll be more careful, i won't worry you anymore. i won't get hurt, so don't be sad.

you're eyes shine and you hug him tightly. his bandages are coming loose already, but he'll fix them later. he won't tell you, because you want to take care of him. he doesn't need it or want it. but his knuckles feel better and his chest feels warm, in the good way. he feels his arms wrap around you. you feel warm just like him, and he thinks this is it.

katsuki snaps out of his thought when your bed dips and he sees you. your eyebrows are pinched in worry.

"what happened ?" you're not looking at him, already cutting up some bandages.

"wasn't paying attention, bastard got a hit on me. won't happen again." he scoffs, you huff a light laugh. looking up at him mischievously. "thought you said nobody would get a hit on you anymore ?" you giggle, just the sound of it has his ears burning.

"shut up, told you it won't happen again." he scoffs, pushing at your arm. you shake your head affectionately, gesturing for his hand and he gives it to you (reluctantly). your skin feels softer than the sheets, katsuki has to keep his heart in check. "anything else hurt ?" you ask, katsuki grunts and you eye him.

"katsuki—"

"no. nothing hurts, m'good. drop it." it comes out rougher than he means, than he means with you. but you simply roll your eyes, already used to his moods. "if you're worried about me, you shoulda seen him." he huffs proudly. "i don't think i want to see that." you snort, katsuki rolls his eyes.

he wants to see you smile like you did before. what could that other guy have said that made you laugh so hard ? that makes you touch him and fix his tie and makes you stay behind at school with him ?

katsuki wonders if you have a crush on the loser in the seat next to you. he's your bodyguard, yet the ugly little feelings rears its head again and he can't help himself.

"how'd your date go ?"

fucking shit.

you blink, then snort "what date ? i was helping izuku out with math, i told you that." the bandaid around his knuckles tightens "don't say stupid stuff."

his chest feels just a bit lighter, but he still hasn't gotten to his goal just yet. "better be careful, next time he'll ask you for help fixing his diaper. fuckin' crybaby." katsuki barks a laugh when you slap his shoulder, holding back a smile of your own. he lifts your head up with his unoccupied hand. you grab at it to push him away "m'not done yet, stop it !" you squeal.

"no worries, i won't tell anyone," he smirks, you poke at his cheek with a smile "it's just us, princess. promise i won't ruin your image." he still calls you that princess nickname, because you're snobby, bratty and spoiled, but it's a bit more affectionate in the roughness of his voice that only you catch on to. you try not to look too affected by it with an eye roll. your hand flies away from his face when he snaps at your fingers.

"you're such an asshat." you huff, the smirk on his face makes your heart thump. "swear." he teases, you push at his arm with a chuckle.

you like hanging out with izuku, at first because he was fun to mess with and he looked cute when he got all blushy. but he actually is really interesting to talk to and he's funny when he isn't in his own head. he reminded you a little of yourself on your very first day of school. it's something you don't want to remember but he seemed so lost. you're glad you got to sit next to him.

but you do miss sitting next to katsuki.

"it's weird not sitting next to you anymore.." you're done bandaging his hands and start tackling his nose. before katsuki can respond you utter a quick "this'll hurt a bit," and press a cotton wad to his nose. he hisses at the sting and you apologise but he waves you off with a grunt.

katsuki can't stop looking at your little frown and sad little puppy dog eyes. and he can't help but want to tease you.

"yeah ? you miss me ?" your insulted expression is everything and he can't help but snicker, until you press the little wad harder against his nose. "fuck !" he hisses. he grips at your hand, pushing the cotton wad towards your face. he manages to nudge it against your cheek and you shake your head, you squirm around and he manages to land on top of you. you both don't realise, katsuki too focused on trying to get back at you.

he catches you off guard when he manages to grab your wrist, throwing them against your bed. and then you realise how close he is to you when his breath fans across your face.

"what're you mad at me for ? don't get embarrassed 'bout the truth," his laboured breaths is all your ears pick up on. you feel hot where his hands grip yours. they're a little moist, he's always been a bit sweaty around his hands but just maybe it has something to do with how if he were to lean in just a bit more your noses would touch. katsuki forgets he's your bodyguard and does so. you gasp at the contact, both your breathing gets harder.

"you fuckin' miss me," he breathes. you scowl up at him, lips slowly forming into a pout.

fuck, you look cute. and fuck, he wants to kiss you.

katsuki thinks maybe you don't have to smile at him. as long as you're looking at him, even just like this, that's more than okay for him.

"dick," you spit, you continue when you look towards your wall "what if i do ? you're my best friend."

no, he isn't. he's your bodyguard. it's the job he'd been entrusted by your father, it's why he's been agreeing to your every bratty whim for years now, 'cus it's his job and your dad trusts him and he owes the man his life. it's why he lets you take care of him and watch movies with him and sleep on him when you're tired.

but his chest feels warm, and his grip on your wrist tightens.

"you're such a baby," it's mean, but his eyes soften and his lip grazes your forehead. it's not even a kiss, barely a touch of his lips against the crown of your head. but your eyes are soft and he's sure his are too. he lets go of your wrists and presses his forehead to yours "m'still here y'know ? even if it's not next to you every class. don't go writin' me off."

you giggle, and you place your hand against his cheek. katsuki doesn't need to be taken care of and he's your bodyguard but he leans into your warmth lightly. your other hand reaches for the cotton wad that luckily landed next to your head during your little scuffle. you wipe his nose just like that. it's quiet and he doesn't rip his gaze away from yours, his eyes look gooey and melty like caramel. they're soft and warm and firey and so handsome. you finish by pressing a little bandaid to his nose and as thank you for taking care of him katsuki smooshes his nose to yours to make you laugh.

and you smile, in a way he knows the loser in the seat next to you never could make you. not because he's your bodyguard but cus he's your best friend, your katsuki who cuts up apples to look like little bunnies for you and the one that ties your shoe laces before you could even look down and notice they were untied, the one who brought you home. the one who'd been sitting next to you every day and will keep doing so for as long as he lives even if he can't at school.

katsuki remembers you telling him that the four bodyguards before him were no fun. that they didn't speak or play with you, but that he was your favourite. that he could be really nice and when you lean up to jokingly give him a get better kiss right on the tip of his nose, he scrunches it up and you giggle, and katsuki remembers that he's your favourite.

he'd told you he was the best and he intends on staying your favourite, so he stuffs his face in your neck and blows raspberries in it to make you giggle and to make you kick your legs he tickles you. he can admit that most bodyguards wouldn't do that. but he's your best friend, and he can admit you're his too.

WHEEW CHAPTER TEWW !! loved writing this i hope yall enjoy ! this chapter was softer but i promise i'll start getting more active later on !! just wanted to have a sorta soft kindaaa in verse katsu character study kinda chap if that makes sense :> hope yall look forward to more chapters ! (p.s. i was really excited to write this part so please don't think every chap is going to come out this fast lol 🩷💗!!!!)

taglist ! : @bkgpackets @erenstitanweave @flowershop1340 @kovu-bunnbunn @queenpiranhadon

Tailspin

it's still the weekend somewhere, right??

Matsuno Chifuyu, Baji Keisuke & Hanemiya Kazutora x female reader

w.c 6.3k

tw: noncon, yandere themes, character death, manga spoilers, minor blood and gore, violence, nsfw, smut, murder

Chifuyu remembers things he shouldn’t.

Events that never happened, fights, brawls, the death of his friends… his own demise, drugged and tied to a chair, the muzzle of Kisaki’s pistol, burning from the prior shot, pressed to his forehead in the split seconds before he pulled the trigger.

He remembers other things too. Futures that clash and diverge, timelines that can’t have existed, they play out in his head, over and over again.

“Who’s that chick talking with Emma?”

Chifuyu doesn’t have to follow Baji’s line of sight to know who he’s talking about. Inevitably though, he does, catching you giggle at something the blonde says, sipping absentmindedly at the glass of champagne clasped in your fingers. 

His gaze slips to the dress you’re wearing, a satiny, floor-length floral and blush number, lingering on the slit at your mid thigh – the flash of skin he gets when you shift your weight.

His throat dries, and Chifuyu covers it with a cough, tearing his attention back to the table, his own drink in front of him, a bead of condensation slowly rolling down the glass. “A friend of Hina’s.” He shoots Baji a brief, pointed look, “And she’s got a boyfriend.”

Fuyu remembers him, too. 

Baji’s canines glint in a toothy smirk. “Yeah? He here tonight?”

As if on cue, a familiar, handsome brunet appears at your side, leaning down to drop a kiss to your cheek, his arm winding loosely around your side. There’s nothing all that possessive about the gesture – it’s unthinking. Instinctual. It has you smiling, mid-way through whatever it is you’re saying to the youngest Sano.

His chest tightens.

That same man, not nearly so good looking with his face all smashed in, leaking brains and blood onto the concrete–

“Shame,” Kazutora, sitting on his other side, murmurs, his dark, honey eyes still drinking you in as he downs another mouthful of whiskey. The corner of his lip quirks up, “She’s cute.”

‘There. Problem solved.’

Chifuyu returns the grin, leaning back in the chair with an exaggerated sigh, “Do not get into a fight on Takemitchy’s wedding day.” He side-eyes Baji, “Either of you.”

“You scared of him?”

“No, I don’t want to be kicked out of the reception because you two idiots started an all out brawl,” he laughs, and prays that neither one of them notice that his hands are all clammy, gripping too tightly at his drink. 

“What kinda wedding doesn’t have at least one good fight?” Baji scoffs, only half serious – enough of a concession that something loosens inside of him and his next breath comes easier.

Baji won’t start a fight, Kazutora won’t start a fight. It’ll be fine. 

You’re close with Hina and Emma and friends with Takemichi by extension. But gone are the days of Toman, where they’d spend the better part of their time screwing around together. Their lives aren’t all tangled up like they used to be. Another few hours, and this’ll be over. You’ll be gone, taking your stupid, handsome boyfriend with you and Chifuyu won’t have to worry about seeing you again. He can go back to pretending that you don’t exist.

Anything else is…dangerous. 

Moments later, they’re joined by Mitsuya and Hakkai, Yuzuha drifting to join the girls, and the conversation shifts to other, safer topics. Plates of canapes come by, and they eat and drink and talk stupid shit, most of it laughing and reminiscing over the dumb things they’d done with Takemichi as kids. 

For a while, it feels like he can breathe. Relax, and enjoy this, because it didn’t come easy. 

And you, you look happy enough with whatever his fucking name is. Chifuyu tells himself that that’s a good thing, too. 

The night wears on, slow, romantic tunes drifting from the speakers. In small groups and pairs, their friends have begun to leave, either heading home to crash or to find somewhere more lively to keep the party going. 

Amongst the few couples remaining, Hina and Takemichi cling to each other, swaying drunkenly on the dance floor, oblivious to anyone or anything but the other. It’s cute, in a disgustingly mushy sort of way. For his part, Chifuyu hangs by the open bar, nursing a glass of whiskey and doing his utmost to focus on anything but the space you occupy, dancing with your boyfriend. 

“You’re staring again.”

“Fuck off,” the words come out more tired than anything else. 

Kazutora drops into the empty seat beside him. “From the moment she walked in tonight, you’ve been all… weird about her. Why?”

‘Please, you’ve gotta help me get out of here, he– he’ll be back any minute.’

Chifuyu shrugs, “‘s nothing, really she just… reminds me of someone, that’s all.”

Kazutora hums, looking entirely unconvinced. For whatever reason, and much to his relief, he decides not to push it.

Bruised, split knuckles grip your chin tight, ‘You’re gonna be good for us tonight,’ Baji smirks. ‘‘Cause I’m really, really not in the fuckin’ mood, princess.’

“C’mon,” Chifuyu says, knocking back the last of his whiskey and slamming the glass down. “We should head out. Some of us have to open the store tomorrow.”

Kazutora snorts, but follows suit without complaint. The sooner they’re gone – the sooner you’re out of sight, out of mind – the better.

—

When Chifuyu shoots awake with a gasp, pulse racing, heavy beads of sweat rolling from the nape of his neck down his spine, it’s to the sound of his phone vibrating insistently.

Kazutora, he realises when bleary eyes adjust to the bright screen, and with a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach, he answers the call.

Wide, panicked eyes meeting his, hands grasping tightly at his arms. Two bodies lie on the floor; only one draws breath.

‘It was an accident, I swear to fucking god– you have to believe me. You believe me, right, Fuyu?’

The sheer relief that hits when the first words out of Kazutora’s mouth aren’t some combination of ‘I fucked up’, but ‘It’s Baji’ nearly knocks the breath right out of him.

Least ‘til they’re followed up with ‘accident’ and ‘ER’. 

He’s never thrown clothes on quicker.

The stuff he remembers from before – the timelines that don’t exist – they’re not always clear. Sometimes it’s difficult for him to place certain events in the right order, in the right timeline. He doesn’t always remember the knock on effect.

Baji’s death isn’t like that. 

You don’t forget that kind of pain. And yeah, maybe he got Kazutora out of it in the end, but fuck it almost destroyed him.

They saved him, though. They went back and they fixed it. He survived and Emma survived and Mikey and Draken and everyone – this is the future they’d fought tooth and nail for. This is their happily ever fucking after, and he can’t–

He won’t consider the possibility of another future without either one of his best friends in it.

Bursting through the doors of the ER, he feels all jumbled, heart beating out a frantic rhythm, breath coming ragged as though he’d physically run the five miles to get here. He scours the room… and spots Baji half propped up in a bed on the other side of the ward.

Awake, looking like he’d been dragged halfway to hell but–

Okay. He’s okay. 

The tension – part of it at least – lifts itself from his shoulders with a shaky exhale. 

Kazutora, sprawled across a chair beside him, notices him before Baji does. “You look like shit,” he comments, a wry grin tugging at his lips.

It earns him a smack to the back of his head as Chifuyu slides on past, grabbing another nearby seat and plonking himself down. 

“What the fuck happened to you?” He tries to laugh it off, really he does. There’s a few bandages, what looks like a broken arm, some cuts and grazes on his face. They’ve all landed themselves in the ER in worse states than this and come out the other side perfectly fine, but he can’t–

He can’t stop seeing it play out in his head, over and over. 

Baji dying. The sense of utter helplessness that swallowed him whole, clutching his dead body in his arms. The sound of his best friend’s last breath, that fucking smile–

‘I’d kill for some peyoung yakisoba right now.’

Baji scoffs, “Some asshole clipped me is what fucking happened.” Side-eyeing him, he adds, “Relax, dude, it’s nothing. I’m fine.”

He really needs to lighten the fuck up. 

“We’re waiting on–”

“–go already?! You got me here, I don’t need your help anymore, go home.”

Chifuyu’s eyes – Baji’s and Kazutora’s too– shift instinctively to the source of the outburst. Wheeled in by a nurse, your boyfriend trailing behind you like a kicked puppy, Chifuyu’s heart leaps into his throat at the sight of you, tear stricken, pain etched over every inch of the scowl you wear, clutching an ice pack to your ankle. 

‘Pick.’

Fearful eyes flicker between them, silently pleading for a reprieve. ‘But I-I haven’t done anything.’

He hums contentedly, and takes your hand in his, fingers entwining to bring it to his cheek, nuzzling against the soft skin. “Maybe not… but you were thinking about it. So pick one, or I’ll break them both.”

Something dark and unpleasant roils in his stomach.

“Babe, can we–” your boyfriend glances around the room, visibly cringing at unwanted attention the two of you have drawn. He lowers his voice to a hushed whisper, “Can we talk about this later? I get that you’re upset–”

Beside him, Kazutora’s head tilts, “Isn’t that…?” 

“…Yeah.”

“Considering it’s your fault that I’m here in the first place, yeah, you could say I’m pretty pissed!” you snap.

The nurse, doing her absolute best to ignore the squabbling and maintain some air of professionalism, gives you a sympathetic look as she parks the wheelchair next to a bed opposite the three of them and helps you up. “The doctor won’t be long,” she says, patting your shoulder before she turns to depart.

… Not without a sharp, pointed glare towards your harried looking boyfriend. 

That’s all background noise. Chifuyu’s too busy turning those words over and over in his head, waiting for them to click.

Your fault.

Your. Fault. 

And his eyes shift back to the ice pack you’re holding to a swollen ankle, the sheen of tears on your face, and a sudden, violent urge claws its way to the surface. It takes every ounce of self control he possesses not to launch himself across the room and start beating the shit out of him right there and then.

If he touched you, if that asshole fucking hurt you–

“That’s not fair. I said I was sorry–”

“Oh, you’re sorry?! Go to hell, Ginji! Actually, no. On second thought why don’t you go back to Rin’s instead, sounded like her bed was real cold without you there to fucking warm it!” 

While your voice quavers, the words are no less acidic. No less furious. You might be on the verge of shattering, but if looks could kill, your piece of shit boyfriend would be dead twice over.

Ginji stands there, mouth opening and closing soundlessly, floundering for words. 

He goes to touch your shoulder only to second guess himself, his hand hovering awkwardly in the air for a moment, then dropping back down to his side – a good decision on his part, considering Chifuyu’s half tempted to march his way over there and break it. 

Cheating? That piece of shit was cheating on you? 

Huh. Maybe the universe does have a sense of humour after all, twisted as it is.

Your boyfriend at least has the decency to look ashamed of himself, cheeks flushing pink. Rather than meeting your accusatory stare, his eyes are downcast, the speckled linoleum suddenly infinitely more interesting to the man. 

“It was a mistake,” he admits, choking the words out like they’re physically stuck in his throat. “I shouldn’t– I never meant to hurt you. I love you.”

Bitterly, you scoff, and Ginji flinches like you’ve struck him.

Good, Chifuyu thinks. Someone should hit the asshole. 

He, Baji and Kazutora aren’t the only ones drawn in by your argument. The doctors and nurses that breeze past, slowing their pace ever so slightly to catch a few seconds more, the patients in the beds around you, subtly leaning in, hushing their friends and families to better hear the drama unfold.

If you were less worked up, all the attention you two have drawn would probably bother you a hell of a lot more than it currently is. 

You weren’t the kind of girl who got off on causing a scene. The nosiness, complete strangers watching something deeply personal between you two unravel like it’s free entertainment, he almost feels bad for you. 

Then again, he’s seen you in far more compromising, vulnerable positions than this, and enjoyed it, too. 

Any guilt he might’ve felt – should have felt – was buried a long, long time ago. He’s not all that interested in digging it back up, and even if he wanted to, Chifuyu’s not so sure he could tear himself away.

“Just… go away,” you mutter. “Haven’t you done enough tonight?”

From your vantage point, staring misty eyed at your lap, you miss the way your boyfriend’s expression hardens. Chifuyu doesn’t.

He sighs, long suffering, “You’re being stubborn for the sake of it, you can’t get home on your own. You can barely walk, babe.”

“I’ll manage.” A curt dismissal.

“We can drive her home.”

Chifuyu’s soul ascends from his body, eyes incredulous – horrified – as he turns his head to find Kazutora staring straight at Ginji, eyes dark and glittering, a smile on his lips. 

It isn’t a pleasant expression. 

Your boyfriend rounds on the three of them, straightening his shoulders, shifting to hide you from view as though they’re some sort of a threat and he could in any way actually shield you from it.

(The first part is true, his subconscious reminds him. The second undoubtedly isn’t.)

“I’m sorry, who are you?” he sneers, shooting them a disdainful glower. “Mind your own damn business, we’re having a private conversation here.”

… A super private conversation with half the ER listening in. If he weren’t so on edge, Chifuyu might be tempted to laugh at that. As it is, his expression only tightens. 

Baji, bruised, bloodied and bandaged, matches Kazutora’s grin from his position propped up on the bed. The idiot barely escaped becoming roadkill, yet still manages to look like he wants nothing more than to start beating the shit out of your boyfriend right in the middle of the ER.

This is dangerous territory. His fingers twitch and flex, glancing uneasily between you, your boyfriend and his friends, trying to think of the right words to say to diffuse this situation, to get their attention off of you, you away from that asshole, and–

‘I hate you.’

Chifuyu presses a kiss to your naked shoulder, drawing himself closer to steal your warmth. ‘I know.’

“Oh my god, would you stop, Gin!” you snap, taking all four of them by surprise. Quieter, you add, “They’re Michi’s friends, don’t be rude.” 

That, it seems, is the breaking point for your boyfriend. 

He spares you an incredulous look, and shakes his head with a scoff, “Yeah, whatever. Call me when you wanna act like an adult about this and we can talk.” 

“Run along now,” Kazutora taunts, not quite quick enough to dodge the sharp elbow Chifuyu jabs into his ribs.

With one final huff, Ginji does exactly that. 

The moment his figure disappears through the sliding double doors, you let out a shuddering gasp, crumbling in on yourself as a fresh wave of tears bursts forth. On sheer instinct alone, Chifuyu’s halfway out of his seat before his brain’s registered he’s moved at all – only to stop dead in his tracks when one of the ER docs materialises at your bedside, chart in hand, and introduces herself. 

He swallows, forcing himself back into the uncomfortable plastic chair. 

“Dude, you good?” Again, if he were in a better mood perhaps he’d appreciate the humour in Baji, laid up in a hospital bed, being the one to ask if he’s okay.

“Yeah.”

Nobody says much after that. 

He’s distinctly aware of the curious, borderline concerned glances from his friends – not to mention the ones they share with each other – he’s hard pressed to care when his attention keeps getting pulled over to where you’re getting your exam, every wince and muffled cry of pain like knives under his skin, all too familiar.

You clutch at him with hands like claws, desperate, wailing, crying, a gross mix of snot and tears dribbling down your face as fingers poke and prod at your injured leg.

‘Stop being a dick, we need to set it or it won’t heal properly.’

Another twist of his wrist and you choke out another scream, burying your face in his chest to sob. 

His hand now rubbing soothingly at your calf, Kazutora’s expression turns thoughtful, ‘…Wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, would it?’ His eyes meet Chifuyu’s, ‘If it didn’t heal right, I mean.’ 

When they bring you back from getting an x-ray, rather than the bed you were in before, the one opposite them, the nurse wheels you over to the recently vacated bay next to Baji’s.

“So you can wait with your friends,” she says kindly, helping you up onto the bed. 

He waits for you to tell her that they’re not really your friends, that this has all been blown way out of proportion and you barely know them – which is the truth. 

You don’t, simply thanking her with a polite nod, and once she’s out of earshot you collapse back against the pillows with a sigh, “At least the pain meds are kicking in.” You turn your head to look at them, “Thanks, by the way. You don’t actually have to drive me home. You guys did enough getting him out of here.”

Baji opens his mouth–

“Did he do that to you?” Chifuyu cuts in before either of the others have a chance to reply, jerking his chin towards your swollen, most likely broken ankle. “You said…”

Your fault. 

There’s zero moral high ground for him to stand on, he’s perfectly aware of that, but it’s been bugging him ever since those words slipped out. If Chifuyu finds out that asshole actually laid a fucking hand on you, he’s gonna lose it.

If anyone – anyone – hurts you this time around, promises or not, he’s going to return the favour without hesitation; eye for an eye, tooth for fucking tooth.

Nobody touches you. 

For a second you frown at him, confused, and then something must click because you laugh, sad and more than a little sheepish, and shake your head. “No, no, not like that. We were fighting about the whole… sleeping with his ex thing.” His fingers curl into a fist. “I went to storm out of the apartment, he grabbed my wrist to stop me and I tripped. Pretty dumb, right?”

He doesn’t laugh with you. None of them do.

—

Chifuyu gets a text from Takemitchy the next day. Between all the emojis and the exclamation marks, it’s a thank you note. You’re practically a sister to Hina, and now that they’re married, a sister to him, too.

All he did was drive you home, and Takemichi’s acting like he stepped in front of a bullet.

Yeah, Chifuyu’s a real knight in shining armour. 

… A masochist, maybe.

Ignoring the fresh wave of self disgust that settles inside of him, he sends a thumbs up in response. 

What else is he supposed to say; yeah, no worries, it’s the least I could do after making her life a misery the past few goes ‘round?

They’ve all done bad things, he won’t deny that. Killed people. Hurt people. Kazutora stabbed Baji, Draken ended up on death row for murdering Kisaki, in multiple timelines Mikey was either directly or indirectly responsible for all of their deaths. Even Takemitchy lost his way once or twice before he caught up with himself.

And it’s not that he holds that against any of them. Takemitchy certainly doesn’t. Things were fucked up for a long time, and each of them became fucked up people trying to deal with that. 

But in the same way he can’t be around Kisaki without wanting to throttle him, Chifuyu can’t look at you without seeing every awful, horrible act they put you through play out in his head like a movie that won’t turn off. Rewriting the timeline doesn’t erase that. It doesn’t absolve him of the guilt.

So he stays away. Keeps Baji and Kazutora away. 

Or tries to, at least.

A few hours after Takemichi’s text, his phone lights up again, vibrating to announce a new message, this time from a number he doesn’t recognise. 

Hey, I got your number from Michi! Hope you don’t mind–

There’s more, he doesn’t read the rest. Deletes the message, switches his phone to do not disturb and shoves it back into the pocket of his jeans, forcing himself to focus on the inventory lists in front of him and not the pounding in his chest. 

Chifuyu’s trying, he’s trying so fucking hard. You’re not making this any easier.

—

A week and a half later, the weather outside is miserable and the store is quiet when, a little before closing, the bell above the door rings, announcing a customer. 

Baji with his busted arm sits at the counter, Kazutora busy with restocking the shelves, so Chifuyu, out the back working through the month's expenses and wondering (not for the first time) why he hasn’t yet hired an accountant to do this for him, ignores it.

At least until he hears an all too familiar sound trickling through the door, one that sends a pang straight to his heart. 

Your laugh.

Unmistakable, unforgettable, Chifuyu’s mind goes blank and like a dog with a scent he’s out, weaving his way to the front of the store, chasing after it. He finds you, moon boot and all, leaning up against the front counter, laughing at something Baji’s said.

The image of you, relaxed, perfectly at ease, happier than he’s seen you for a while – the wedding included – does a funny thing to his insides. And then you turn to face him, your countenance brightens and for a good few seconds he forgets how to breathe.

You’ve always been beautiful to him – smiling, though, it’s a gut punch. Palms sweaty, heart racing, he’s struck dumb. 

“Chifuyu!”

‘Fuyu–Fuyu, please–N-ugh!’

‘Don’t know what you’re begging him for, princess. Chifuyu’s not gonna help you.’ 

Baji’s hand curls through your hair, dragging your torso up to meet his bare, sweat slicked chest. Dark eyes glint, his tongue drags along your neck, teeth nipping at your earlobe, causing you to whimper. 

He laughs meanly, ‘He’s enjoying this too much.’

“You’re here,” he replies lamely, glancing to his left to find Kazutora watching him with thinly veiled amusement. 

You take it in stride, “Well yeah, you never replied to my message, so I had to ask Hina for the address. You’re a difficult guy to get a hold of.” 

The teasing lilt in your voice tells him you’re only joking, his cheeks flush anyway.

“How’s the ankle?” he asks instead.

“Better! Still a pain, but you know, it could’ve been worse. I can walk… kinda. More of a hobble, I guess.”

“Least you can take yours off when you’re showering,” Baji grumbles from behind the counter.

You laugh, “True.” To Chifuyu, you add, “I wanted some stuff for Bean, and since you never replied to my message, I thought I’d kill two birds with one stone and swing by.”

“Bean?” Kazutora asks, completely abandoning all pretence of working to draw closer and join in on the conversation.

“My kitten. She’s a little terror.” 

… You used to play with the strays Kazutora brought home, he remembers that. Talked to them in that soft baby voice, coaxing them closer for pats and treats. Let them curl up and fall asleep on your lap when you were reading or watching tv. 

It was almost definitely an act of petty defiance, showering the felines in love and affection all the while ignoring them as much as they’d allow. Hard to take it to heart, though, when watching you fawn over them was pretty much the cutest thing he’d ever seen. 

“Anyway, there’s this new noodle bar that’s opened up down the road. You guys are almost finished up, right? Let me have a look around for a few things for Bean, you can close up and we’ll go. My treat.”

He arches an eyebrow, “Because we drove you home?”

“Because you didn’t have to drive me home, or stand up to Ginji, or keep me company in the first place,” you counter, still with that same open earnestness, that soft expression that has his insides all tied up in knots. “And because I want to. Are you really going to turn down a free meal?”

The universe is fucking with him. Punishing him, maybe. 

And it’d be so, so easy to blame you for it – you’re like one of those sad, beaten down dogs that keeps returning to its master no matter how many times they’re kicked – except there’s no version of this where he’s the good guy, and you don’t remember anything different. 

Chifuyu’s expression shifts into a paper thin smile. “Take your time looking around,” he tells you. “But dinner… It was just a lift, no need to make a big deal out of it. We’re good.” 

“Oh, yeah– no, of course! I um, I won’t keep you guys long.”

It’s Kazutora, watching the exchange with that same considering look he’d worn back at the wedding, who cuts in, saving Chifuyu from responding. “No rush, take as long as you want.”

Your eyes flicker back to Chifuyu, hesitant now, unsure. Still, you paper over that disappointment, your expression not quite as bright as the one before, but genuine all the same. “Thanks, I mean it. And… if you change your mind about dinner,” you shrug easily, “the offer’s open.”

He only nods, turning sharply on his heel to leave before you can get another word in. 

Before you can convince him that dinner is in any way a good idea. 

You shouldn’t make him feel like this – not guilty. No, he’d take the guilt in heaping droves, he certainly deserves it. You make him feel all off kilter, like his heart’s beating out of sync, and his whole body’s wired wrong. 

You stick in his head, refusing to budge. To give him a minute’s fucking peace.

And as he makes it back into the sanctuary of his office, firmly shutting the door behind him and falling back against it with an unsteady breath out, Chifuyu wonders if this isn’t your own brand personal of torture. 

If it is, it’s sure as hell working. 

—

Fingers wind into your hair, Chifuyu shudders, groaning appreciatively at the sight before him. 

Your eyes are big, swimming with desperate, pretty tears as you choke and gag around the cock stuffing your face. For him it’s heaven – the plush, wet heat of your mouth, the tiny spasms of your throat closing around him when he pushes in deeper.

He curses, moaning louder, dragging your face to his pelvis and holding it there, rutting his hips faster, fucking your face as you beat and claw at his thighs, unable to breathe. That blistering thread of pleasure deep in his core pulls taut–

Chifuyu’s eyes snap open, heart pounding, and he gasps for air. In his boxers, his cock twitches insistently, half hard and aching, the phantom sensation of your lips wrapped around it too fresh to ignore. 

If he had a shred of decency left in him, he’d go and take a cold shower. If he were more awake, if it weren’t the dead of the night, if his bed wasn’t so comfortable, and the memory of you swallowing him down any easier to banish.

His hand snakes down into his boxers, and as he bites down on his bottom lip to muffle any noise and takes himself in hand, rubbing the now throbbing length, he tries not to think about how disgusted you’d be if you could see him now. 

—

You’re at Takemichi’s birthday, chatting animatedly with Pah’s girlfriend when he arrives. You brighten when you see him though, and wave. Half heartedly, he returns it, then spends the rest of the night doing his utmost to avoid you.

Which in no way deters the birthday boy himself from plopping down beside him, beer in hand, and awkwardly attempting to set you two up. 

“She’s great! And y’know, she’s pretty and super nice. And um, she broke up with that Ginji guy so she’s single right now as well.”

He bites back an bitter laugh, and risks another glance your way. 

A few days later, Chifuyu runs into said ex on his way home from a late night beer and snack run. The brunet doesn’t notice him, minding his own business up ahead on the sidewalk. 

There’s nothing in particular that sets him off. He’s not even sure it was a conscious decision. One minute they’re walking, the next they’re down an alleyway out of sight and he’s on top of Ginji, beating the absolute shit out of him.

And he can’t stop.

His fists are slick with blood, knuckles split, and the wet thwacking of flesh hitting flesh drowns out the sound of his own haggard breath, the yelps that turn into grunts and groans, and then garbled nothings.

In his head, the images shift, coming one after the other, relentless–

You, flinching away from his touch, trying in vain to hide your tears.

Baji, panting, balls deep inside of you, forcing your lips together in a violent kiss. 

The sick, soft delight playing in Kazutora’s eyes, his fingers tracing idle patterns into your shoulder as you sleep. ‘She’s perfect, isn’t she?’

He can’t stop.

He can’t stop.

—

“Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Chifuyu blinks, jerking back to the present in time to realise that the shelf he’s been re-stocking is already full, and he’s been standing there mindlessly trying to shove extra products into a space they physically won’t fit for god only knows how long. 

He shakes his head, clearing his throat and glances at Baji. “Nothing, it’s– I’m fine.”

From the disbelieving look on his face, the single raised eyebrow, he can tell Baji doesn’t buy it. Chifuyu can’t blame him, really – it’s been days of this, operating on some weird, malfunctioning autopilot, pretending that everything’s a-okay when he hasn’t slept and barely eats. He can’t close his eyes without seeing you.

He’d honestly be more surprised if his friends hadn’t noticed anything amiss. 

“I’m good,” he repeats, forcing a tight smile. 

Is this what it feels like to lose his mind?

—

When Takemichi calls him late one night a few days later, he’s expecting some sort of well intentioned – albeit clumsy and heavy-handed – attempt at an intervention.

‘We’re worried, you’ve been acting kinda… strange lately. You know you can always talk to us, right?’

He’d have to be blind to miss the shared looks between Baji and Kazutora at work. More than once he’d walked in on the two of them whispering between themselves, only for them to separate and act completely oblivious the second they noticed him. 

Chifuyu wouldn’t put past either one of them to confide in Michi about it, either. 

As it turns out, he’s wrong.

The day of your funeral, it rains all day. Not a light drizzle either; black skies and rumbling thunder, a deluge that won’t let up. It feels fitting.

Chifuyu puts on a suit, drives with Baji and Kazutora to join Takemichi and their friends at the shrine. Neither one of them ask why he’s adamant on going to the funeral of a girl he barely knew.

They don’t say much of anything at all. 

An older couple is standing by the doors when they arrive, greeting the mourners as they enter. It takes him a second to realise that they must be your parents. Your mother cries quietly, your father shaking hands and thanking them in a stiff, thick voice for coming.

Once inside, he spots Hinata in her kimono first, crying her eyes out on a misty eyed Michi’s shoulder, Emma standing to her left, not faring much better. But the others are there too, dotted throughout the room; Draken, Mikey, Pah and Pe-yan. Mitsuya with his sisters, Hakkai with his. 

Whether they’re here for you or in support of Hinata and Takemichi, he doesn’t know, nor can he muster the energy to care. 

Chifuyu says little the entire time, jaw set, bloodshot eyes rimmed in red, and the only thing he can focus on throughout the service – the only thing keeping him together – is the deathly tight grip Baji keeps on his shoulder and Kazutora’s hand locked around his. 

A mugging gone wrong. What kind of sick fucking joke is that?

They put you through hell, you suffered and suffered and suffered, and he fixed it. He did everything right this time; kept his distance and nearly drove himself insane, and for what?

You were supposed to have some kind of a future.

If you weren’t with them, then you were supposed to be happy. 

Instead you’re gone, and Chifuyu can’t feel anything. 

There’s just… nothing. A gaping, jagged hole in his chest, and he realises that he was wrong earlier. Losing his mind wasn’t forcing himself to give you up and stay away, losing his mind is staring at the coffin holding your dead body.

—

Takemitchy, tipsy and loose-lipped, told him once about how he’d gained the time leaping ability. How Shin had, before him. 

—

A fist pounds at the door, “Oi, hurry up. We’re gonna be late!”

Chifuyu lets out a breathless laugh. 

His shirt’s rumpled, tie askew, the waistcoat and jacket laid out on the bed in preparation for today carelessly shoved aside, and as for his pants – they’re unbuckled and hanging from his thighs.

His hips snap forward, drawing a sharp squeal from you, which he’s quick to soothe with another feverish kiss. “Shh, almost–” he pants, licking his lips, “almost there.” 

And true to his word, he picks up the pace, moaning at the way your tight little pussy clenches reflexively around him, spasming under the relentless barrage of his cock stuffing you full, molding your insides to the shape of him. 

You’re probably still sore and oversensitive from earlier. They hadn’t been gentle, Tora spreading your legs and shoving his face between your thighs before you’d even woken up, Baji quick to join in on the fun. You’d whined and sniffled and pleaded, tearfully begging for them to stop, but you always look so cute like that, shuddering and wrecked, cumming for them in a fucked out stupor over and over.

He knows they should treat you better, take a little more care with you – at least with stuff like this. Right now, though, it’s impossible to think of anything but chasing his own pleasure, fucking you deeper, faster, the sheer bliss of you milking every last drop of cum from his cock while he groans out your name.

He’ll make it up to you later. 

Your nails rake down his back, harsh enough to draw blood if not for his shirt, and he hisses in pleasure. Your tears, the breathless pleas, even the weak struggles beneath him, none of it breaks through that haze, he’s wholly lost to the pleasure of your cunt. His grip on you tightens, drawing you closer, your naked, heaving tits pressed against his chest. He can feel your racing heart pounding. 

His head tips back, mouth falling open. The rhythm of the onslaught gives way to urgency, hips faltering, punching himself deeper in short, rabbitting paps.

You hide your face in his shoulder, clinging to him, choking back a sob–

“Fuyu! For fuck’s sake, if you don’t hurry the hell up and finish, we’re going to miss the damn wedding!” Baji snarls through the door.

You tense, toes curling, and squeeze so tightly around his cock that Chifuyu loses control entirely, pleasure exploding like stars behind his eyes, ripping through him violently as spurts of hot, thick cum splatter your insides. His hips rock into you, and he murmurs your name in a contented sigh, riding out his orgasm with a few last, lazy thrusts.

When the wave eventually recedes and he catches his breath, he carefully eases his cock free, lowers you down to the bed – paying no mind to the cum that dribbles from your abused cunt onto the bedsheets below – and presses an affectionate kiss to your forehead. 

“You’re so good to us,” he mumbles, collapsing down beside you. 

You stiffen at the words. Fat, glistening tears well in your eyes and spill silently down your lashes. Gently, he thumbs them away, but you don’t say anything.

You rarely do these days, if you can help it. 

If he weren’t in such a rush, he’d take the time to clean you up, get you some water. Instead, he has to make do with a quick kiss, forcing himself to get up and fix his appearance, tucking his spent cock back into his pants.

Takemitchy’ll almost definitely have a meltdown if they’re not at the venue soon. 

Racing around the room, gathering up his clothes and throwing them on, he keeps a half an eye on you. You don’t move beyond a soft, shaking tremble, your quiet sobs tugging at his heartstrings. 

This is better than the alternative, though.

You might not see that yet, but that doesn’t make it any less true. And they love you. He loves you. If it keeps you alive and safe and with them, he won’t apologise for it.

The simple truth of it is he, Baji and Kazutora – they can’t survive without you, and you can’t survive without them.