“Hypothetically-“

bakugou x f!reader

wc: 7.9K

MINORS DNI

summary: fed up with his inability to deliver the way he wants to in a relationship, bakugou turns to a dating app for casual sex and companionship. he assures his friends he’s capable of maintaining a platonic sexual relationship, despite his own misgivings. After things go well the first time, you establish a casual thing, and bakugou finds himself prying you open.

a/n: incredibly overworked reader and bakugou engage in a series of escalating casual hookups, bakugou falls for you, you fall for bakugou. choking, spitting, degredation, impact play, bondage, sir kink, daddy kink, praise, degradation, bakugou’s BIG on communication and aftercare, reader has corporate job and body is unspecific but she does have acne scars. bakugou is a mean hard dom right up until he cums and then he’s needy and affectionate, but if you’re uncomfy w degradation, this is not the fic for you. villain/hero predator prey kink roleplay is discussed but not described really. part one.

network - @http-404-error-unknown​

After the first time you sleep with Bakugou Katsuki, you avoid eye contact with him. You’re yanking your clothes on as quickly as possible, anxious to get as dressed as possible before he turns the lights on and you have to perceive yourself, perceive what you’ve done, been doing.

“Hey,” Bakugou says, “Should we uh, should we talk? About that?” You feel something cold wrap around your heart, a drawbridge closing.

“Um,” you swallow, “Um, I’m good. Don’t need to talk.” He looks over his shoulder, a little confused, but you’re focused on lacing your sneakers up again, ignoring him. “No need to um, to talk.” You reiterate and he nods slowly, inspecting you.

“Can I uh,” he walks across his bedroom, and when he rests a hand on your shoulder you jump like he’s shocked you.

“I don’t need the uh,” you gesture to the bed, “The cuddling and stuff, I’m all good.” You stretch a little. He narrows his eyes.

“Was it uh, good, for you?” He’s embarrassed at how relieved his is when he reads your genuine smile.

“Yeah.” You say brightly, punching him in the arm. “Thanks for having me, buddy.” He physically recoils at the nickname, glancing at his phone, he knew the people used tinder to date online casually, but he didn’t think you’d be this indifferent.

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guys commenting part two without reblogging is really not the compliment you think it is haha

IN THESE STOLEN MOMENTS

CHAPTER SUMMARY: You aren't sure where you stand with Rin anymore. You just want him to be honest and tell you how he feels. It doesn't matter, though. Not when your friends have decided to have a snow day! Maybe pretending you're a kid again will take your mind off things.

ex-fiancé!rin x f!reader

WARNINGS : 18+, vaginal sex, exhibitionism, slight choking, spanking, slight overstim, slight oral (m receiving), near death experience?, arguing, blood/nosebleed, slight violence.

WORDS : 6.1k

notes : it's angsty up in here

       LAST CHAPTER┊MASTERLIST ┊ NEXT CHAPTER

You couldn’t quit him.

After being with him again for the first time in what in hindsight feels like an eternity, you couldn’t quit him again. Even after he fucked you again when you showered, you knew you’d have to have him again.

He made you go to your own room after you cleaned each other. But it was hard. It was hard not being able to lie beside him and sleep in his arms. And it was even harder lying to Chigiri about it when he eventually came to bed, thankfully he passed out pretty quickly.

You could barely sleep.

All you could think about, can think about, is Rin.

The morning came around, or at least it got lighter outside. You didn’t even bother checking your phone when you decided to sneak out of your shared room with your best friend. You snuck down the hall to see your ex again.

He must have been awake, too, because he answered to your knock almost instantly.

“R-Rin, harder.” you moan, quiet and broken as he fucks into you on his balcony. You both knew what you wanted when you knocked at his door. You wanted to be with each other, like this, but you knew it came with the risk of being caught.

The balcony is freezing and covered in snow.

But neither of you care. It goes unnoticed as he fucks you so scandalously. The friction and close proximity both keeps you warm enough as he ruins you on the snow-coated balcony. It makes your vision blur as you think about how private yet exposing this is.

Should anyone wake up and decide to play in the snow, you’ll be spotted.

Your brain is goo as he churns up your insides, he forces a bent leg up onto the railing as he rails you from behind. Even in such a degrading, compromising position, you feel nothing but love.

He gently caresses your throat and offers a gentle squeeze to make sure you’re with him. You’re focused and you’re devoted to him and what he’s making you feel. It makes your tongue loll out embarrassingly as he pounds into you, lewd gushy squelching reverberates through the morning air. The sound of skin meeting skin is loud enough to scare the birds from the naked, snow filled branches of the trees in the distance.

Your body is angled just enough to be kissed by him. It’s so sloppy and heated as he gives you the hard, but attentive strokes you so greedily desire.

“I l-love you, Rinnie,” you tell him, “s’much, s-so much.” you continue, speech broken and whiny and oh so quiet. It’s a secret you shouldn’t tell but you can’t help it anymore. You’ve already told him once, there’s no harm in telling him again and again and again.

He moans into your mouth as you kiss, the pressure around your throat intensifying ever so slightly as he continues to slam into you. You yelp when you feel him move your head so abruptly, his nose brushes against your ear before you hear him whisper into it.

“I love you.” he repeats, groaning when he feels how your pussy clenches when he tells you. “L-Love this pussy, missed her s’much baby. I miss you more than anything.” he confides, and it makes your heart swell. Though a thought nags as you think about life after the cabin.

“W-What about your girlfriend?” you cavil, pouting as you think about what you’re doing is so wrong and unfair to her. It’s wrong, but you don’t really care about her. You care about yourself and what this means for you and your ex going forward. “Ah!” you yelp, feeling a painful smack land on your ass as he doesn’t relent.

“Don’t talk about her, not now.” he tells you, and it makes your blood run cold. You bite your lip as you feel him smack you again in the same spot as before. You feel tears form in your eyes as you think about her. This is temporary, things will change when you leave the cabin. He’s not yours anymore, but he’s yours for now. “Stop thinking about her.”

“C— I can’t.” you whimper, and it only makes him fuck you harder. “Rinnie! Unffff, o’my God!” you cry as you feel him battering against your g-spot. He’s going to force you not to think, no matter what. The force of his hand around your neck increases once again, and tears begin to fall as you lose yourself to him.

“Stop fucking thinking,” he demands. “Always so stubborn. Listen to me for once.”

Your hands grasp the cold metal railing. It’s a white-knuckle ride and all you can do is hold on. It’s relentless as you feel him begin to chase his orgasm, harder and deeper thrusts that have you on the brink unconsciousness.

“Fuck, princess, you’re so perfect. Gonna be a good girl and cum for me, aren’t you?” he hums, his voice gravelly and infused with a grit you know is bound to topple you over the edge at any moment. He smirks against you when he hears your little desperate whine that you were hoping to hide from him. You’re too exposed, though, you’re putty in his hand. “You can do it, c’mon. Cum on this cock.”

“Hnnng! Rini—!” his name is rushed on your tongue as you begin to feel your orgasm wrack through you. Your legs go limp and he holds you tightly. His arms wrap around your torso as your pussy gushes, the warmth of the liquid spurting around you melts through the snow. “Shit— Shit! Fuck, Rin! Ah!”

“When did you get such a dirty fucking mouth, baby?” he asks, spanking you again. You bite your lip and your eyes cross as he continues bullying his cock into you. He’s silent, save for expletives and grunts as he chases his own release.

You hum, content, as you feel him fill your walls once again. It’s so thick and warm and wonderful. He stills inside of you, huffing hard as he gathers himself. Your bodies could fuse together as his hold on you gets tighter and sweat seems to get stickier.

“Wanna blow you…” you whisper.

“Hm?” he asks, not quite hearing you as his ears ring with lust.

You manage to push him away as he releases his hold on you, moving him to the wall parallel to the balcony railing. He watches in awe as you drop to your knees in front of him, entirely dismissing the bitter cold snow on your legs as you focus on him.

His cum runs down your inner thighs as you try and keep his essence inside of you, he holds your head as your stick your tongue out teasingly. He hisses when you lick his sensitive tip, throwing his head back a little too hard against the wall.

“Shit,” he muses, but it only encourages you. He carries on watching you as you attempt to sink your mouth onto him and devour his length. You taste his cum and your own insides on him as you take more and more of him into your mouth. It’s too much for him, though. His cock starts to soften and the overstimulation is too much. “Stop, baby, enough.” he tells you, helping you to your feet again.

“Please?” you flutter your lashes, but he stops your pleading with a sloppy kiss. You wrap your arms around each other, holding each other so sickeningly close as you kiss and lick at each other like you’re animals. It’s so nasty and erotic and it turns you on more. “Need t’suck you off, please.” you beg, but he’s adamant.

“You better get back to your room before Chigiri notices you’re gone.” he whispers, kissing you again. He pulls away a little when he realises you’re decreased enthusiasm. “What’s wrong?”

“… Why don’t you want anyone to know?” you wonder, sadly. “I— never mind. I’ll see you later.” you tell him, you make sure to pick up your panties as you walk into his bedroom as you clothe yourself again.

“I don’t think it’s anyone’s business…” Rin says, coming inside with you and closing the door. He tries to make you look at him, but you don’t want him to see any hurt in your eyes. “Hey, can you… talk to me, please?” he asks, and you look at him.

“Rin, ugh. I don’t know where your head is with this.” you start. “I want you back, we’ve fucked and I miss you. But you’re seeing someone else, and you won’t talk to me about it.”

“I didn’t want things to end… I’ve missed you the whole time…” he tells you, eyes softening as he looks at you for longer. Nothing scares him, not normally. But your eyes, right now, like this, terrify him. He’s back to that day all of those months ago.

You have the same eyes as you did then.

The eyes that wouldn’t give him a chance to change or prove himself to you.

It makes him pause for too long as he thinks about what to say to you. But everything is trapped, he has nothing to say. And he can see the look of disappointment in your eyes, now, as you pull on your pyjamas and go to leave.

You don’t even say goodbye as you close the door behind you, as quietly as possible so you don’t draw attention to yourself. There are slight signs of life to be heard from downstairs as you walk down the hall and back to your room. You just hope Hyoma is still asleep.

The door creaks slightly, even when you open it slowly. You look inside first to make sure you can see him, and relief hits you like a tidal wave when you see pretty rose-coloured locks spread out in all directions across his pillow.

You creep back in and slip into the bed right next to him. A heavy sigh leaves you as you are overcome with relief, even feeling a little smug when you realise you’ve gotten away with it. You managed to sneak in and out completely undetected.

“Good morning.” he greets you, calmly. Your heart pounds as you roll over to face him. His eyes don’t look tired, if anything, they look focused. “Where have you been?”

“Toilet.” you respond.

“For two hours?” he replies. Fuck. “I think you were fucking someone on the low. So? Unless you had—”

“I had diarrhoea.”

“Stop lying you bitch.” he laughs and slaps your arm lightly. “Why won’t you tell me? You know I won’t say anything… Was it Rin? Or did you mess up?”

You sigh, rolling onto your back so that you can stare up at the ceiling. He just looks at you as he tries to determine what you’re thinking, though he moves himself upright as he sees you start to cry slightly.

It’s futile, lying to him. You should have known he’d figure you out in an instant. You’re so predictable and easy to read. And now that you have him to talk to, your emotions bubble to the surface. And you tell him everything. From the kitchen counter to this morning.

He doesn’t interrupt, he doesn’t ask questions. He just nods and lets you talk. And you explain how you’re feeling and why you feel so upset. You feel stupid, and you feel hurt.

“I wonder if I’m just expecting too much. It’s just sex and he’s with someone else, it’s not like he owes me anything.” you tell him at the end of it all, but he shakes his head.

“No, no. Fuck that. He’s fucking you and telling you he loves you and you guys have history.” he corrects you, eager to make you understand that you haven’t done anything wrong. “He’s cheating because she’s a rebound. But he knows how you feel now, and he still can’t be honest, this is on him.”

“He’s probably just telling me what I want to hear while we’re fucking.” you theorize, but he doesn’t comment. You aren’t sure if it’s because he agrees or not, but it keeps you quiet for a moment nonetheless. “I don’t think he’s… the type. To use me, I mean.”

“He isn’t.” Hyoma agrees with that, at least. “He might be scared you’ll leave him again. But, you did just hook up. It’s a mood killer and maybe it was weird timing to try and talk about deep stuff.”

“Maybe… Should I go and say sorry then?”

“No, just, let’s see what happens today.” he tells you.

--

You ended up resting in bed with Chigiri for longer than intended, waking up a few hours later to see the sun fully shining through the windows rather than the pink and gold hues of this morning’s delight.

He left you alone in favour of getting himself some breakfast, while you decided to have your third shower to clean yours and Rin’s combined coupling from your body.

You got dressed, once again opting for comfort over anything before you went downstairs to see everyone. Otoya cooked alone, apparently, but Chigiri decided to help to speed the process along.

“Hungry?” Otoya asks, but you shake your head. “I’ll make you something anyway.” he shrugs, and you can’t help but smile. Even a simple slice of toast is a kind enough gesture.

“The children want to play in the snow,” Sae tells you, sitting beside you with his cup of coffee. You squint at him, and then back at the other guys in the room. “Yes, those being the children.” it makes you laugh, even Eita does can’t help but smile as he hands you your toast.

“So you better eat up so you’ve got enough energy.” Ryusei grins, putting his arm around you as he sits down. He tries to steal a slice from your plate, but Sae slaps his hand away. “What are we doing in the snow, kids?”

“Snowball fights.”

“Making snowmen!”

“Snow angels?”

There’s murmuring amongst the group as everyone decides what they want to do. The noise and positive atmosphere are more than welcome. It keeps you distracted from thinking about your ex.

“I brought my skates, can we go on the ice?” you ask, turning to Sae. You pout when he shakes his head. “Oh, why not?”

“It hasn’t been that cold, so I don’t want to risk it.” he explains, you sigh, but understand. “Something’s telling me it’ll be too thin to walk on, let alone skate on.”

“Okay, I understand!” you smile, trying to cover your disappointment as best you can.

At least there’s a skating rink in the city. That’s safe to use whenever you want. But there’s something so magical you always liked about skating on the Itoshi lake.

It made you feel like a forest fairy.

Ryusei eats beside you once Chigiri puts a plate down in front of him. It’s going to be sad to leave after tomorrow. It’s been fun despite all of the drama. Sitting down to eat with everyone everyday has been so sweet. Being with friends rather with family has been a welcome change.

It’s something you might have to do every year from now on, even if it’s just you and Chigiri.

“Has everyone wrapped their presents yet?” you wonder, pushing your empty plate aside when you’re done. You hold one half of your toast in your fingers, finishing it off as you talk to everyone.

“Mine came prewrapped.” Oliver announces. And Eita looks at him suspiciously.

“Same…” he responds.

Sae announces that he’s finished with wrapping his stuff, while Ryusei and Tabito shake their heads. You’re so excited to see what everyone got each other, even if they are silly and maybe even lewd gifts. It’ll be such a fun Christmas morning with them around either way.

“I did mine while you were in the shower.” Chigiri tells you.

“Oh!” you smile, standing up, “Where did you put the DVDs? We bought some DVDs, guys. Maybe we could watch some tonight and some for Christmas when we’re lounging around?”

“They’re in our room.” Chigiri tells you as you look towards the stairs.

You waste no time running up and locating them before you come back down. Everyone looks excited as you stand beside Chigiri and put the shopping bag in the middle of the kitchen island.

They all start smiling widely at your combined mix of good and bad choices as they work their way through the moderately sized selection.

“Oh Sae, look, your favourite.” Ryusei smiles, handing the Taxi Driver DVD to his friend. Sae’s face lights up as he holds it, excited by the prospect of subjecting everyone to it later.

Chigiri’s face drops, focusing on the movie in Sae’s hands as he comes to a horrific realisation. He turns his body, facing away from everyone. Both of his hands cover his mouth as he tries to maintain his composure. No one even realises that he’s having a mini freak out right in front of them because they’re all so entertained deciding what the movie schedule will be. Nobody notices, except you, that is.

You can’t stop smiling, it’s all you can do to stop yourself from laughing at your best friend’s expense. He sees you out of the corner of his eye, and it lowers his guard.

“What the fuck have I wrapped for secret Santa?” he whispers to you. You hold it together. You almost hold it together before you start snickering. Tears of joy and utter amusement roll down your cheeks as you keep trying to pull yourself together only to start laughing again. He warns you, urging you to stop before everyone notices and asks why you’re laughing.

“If we get the receipt and check what’s here, we can figure it out.” you tell him, and he shakes his head.

“I don’t want to know, this is mortifying.” he tells you. It only makes you laugh more. You’re doubled over beside him clutching onto your stomach. The thought of Sae possibly unwrapping a chick flick tomorrow morning and wondering what on earth possessed Chigiri to gift it to him makes your laughter increase.

“I’m gonna dieeeee~!” you tell him, voice warbling as you look up at his furious gaze only to end up laughing more.

“I’m going to bury you in the snow.”

~

Everyone finished eating and decided to bundle up warm before heading out into the snow.

Being outside is invigorating. The fresh, cold air is so crisp, it’s almost electrifying. You’d been playing outside for a few hours together. You’d lost track of how many snow people you made.

Your favourite is the one you made with Karasu after everyone demanded you added a pair of tits to it. You even went and grabbed one of your bras from your room, wanting to conceal the modesty of the exposed lady around the more perverse guys in the group.

Rin joined you later in the afternoon, sticking to the sidelines mostly before he was encouraged to have fun with you all. You were fine around him, albeit a little quiet.

You suppose neither of you feel ready to talk, even now. The sky is starting to get darker. It’s a surprising shade of fuchsia and orange that most members of the group can’t help but photograph to remember the moment later. You’re sure there’ll be an influx of Instagram stories with the exact same sky when you check your feed later.

“Think fast!” Oliver yells before pelting a snowball at Eita’s head. His reflexes are fast, but he hadn’t considered your position behind him as he decided to duck out of the way. “Fuck!” Oliver shouts as he watches the snowball hit you in the face and knock you to the ground. He runs over to you; everyone crowds around you before Ryusei helps you up.

“I’m fine!” you laugh, though you scrunch your nose when you notice it feels a little colder than it had before.

“Your nose is bleeding.” Rin tells you, cupping your face as he examines it. He tells you to keep your head back, so you do. “I’ll get tissues.” you don’t catch the furious glare he shoots at Oliver before he hurries into the house.

“Guys, I’m okay! Don’t worry Oliver.” you try and smile at him while being wary of your bloody nose. “It was an accident. Just don’t throw so hard!” you laugh.

“I’m really sorry.” he gets closer to you, giving you a hug as a show of support, he isn’t sure what else he can do to help. “Do you need anything? Can I—”

“Just go have fun, please! It’s just a nosebleed.” you assure him. He raises a suspicious eyebrow, but you tell him once again to continue playing around in the snow. You don’t ignore how far everyone runs away from where you are to make sure you aren’t hurt again. But you’re satisfied as Ryusei and Chigiri sit with you while you wait for Rin to return.

Ryusei pulls you into his side, patting your head as you carry on waiting. Your face is covered in blood and your clothes are ruined. You try to pull away from Ryusei so you don’t stain his clothes too, but he only holds you closer. He doesn’t care if you get blood on him.

He just wants to take care of you.

Rin returns from inside with tissues and a packet of baby wipes that you recognise. They’re yours. He’s been in your room. You look at him suspiciously, but Ryusei takes them without question.

“Are ya still bleeding?” he asks, and you let go of your nose. “Li’l bit.” he tells you. He takes a baby wipe from the packet and starts cleaning you up. He starts by wiping the congealed blood from your hands, making sure to get between your fingers too.

“Can I do anything?” Rin asks, there’s a need behind his words. He doesn’t want to have to ask, he just wants to help. He wants to be doing what Ryusei is doing right now. But instead, he feels helpless. He’s been left on the sidelines while his friend takes care of you.

“I got it.” Ryusei replies without even looking at him. You don’t even think about Rin as they converse. You’re more annoyed that your makeup is ruined and you’re going to have half of it wiped off when Ryu is through with you. Rin doesn’t say anything else, leaving to sit nearby to keep an eye on you.

Chigiri spies an opportunity. So, he sits beside him while Ryusei carries on cleaning you up.

“You seem in a better mood today.” Ryusei smiles, his grin only growing when he sees you smiling too.

“I—” you look over at Rin, hoping he won’t overhear. He looks like he’s too busy chatting with Chigiri, and it looks serious. “I slept with Rin.”

“Oh!” he laughs, still focusing on getting the last of the blood off your face. It’s just about gone when he speaks again. “Do you wanna talk about it?” he asks.

“I just don’t know what I’m doing, ‘n I don’t think he does either. And he’s got a girlfriend so it’s… weird.” you explain. He pulls out a tissue from the plastic pack Rin handed to him. He gives it to you, encouraging you to stuff it up your nose while it continues to bleed. “A-Anyway, thank you for the other day. About the whole kiss… thing… thank you for not being weird about it.”

“I promise, it’s fine.” he assures you as he stands. He holds out a hand for you to grab and he pulls you to your feet. “It’s all good, I just—”

“You kissed him?” Rin asks, coming closer to you. You’d thought you’d been quiet enough to get away with having a private conversation with Ryusei. But clearly, you’d been too naïve. Of course he’d be curious as to what you were talking about after everything that’s happened.

“No, I—”

“Rin, it wasn’t like that.” Ryusei tries to reason with him. But you’ve never seen Rin like this before. He doesn’t stop approaching, but all of his fury seems targeted on Ryusei. “Nothing happened.”

“I just heard you whispering about a kiss.” Rin responds. “Care to explain?”

“I’m trying, man. Back up a little, yeah?” Ryusei insists, shoving Rin back a little and he accidentally bumps into Hyoma. You look at your best friend, concerned, but it’s short lived when Rin snaps back.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” Rin tells him, shoving him harder.

“Nothing happened!” Ryusei shouts, pushing him again. They get the attention of the rest of the group, they all come over to see what’s going on. They pick up the pace when they keep pushing and shoving, the intensity only growing the longer they fight.

“Stop it!” you yell, only to be ignored. You try to break them up, but Ryusei pushes you further away to you don’t end up with another nosebleed.

“I didn’t fucking kiss her!” Ryusei insists firmly, trying to put a stop to the unnecessary squabbling. “You’re seeing someone anyway, yeah? What difference does it make if I want to fuck her?”

“You fucked her?” Rin asks, a rage like you’ve never seen flares in his eyes. The light of the sky muddies the teal lagoons that you know and love so much, and he can barely think straight as he digests what he’s hearing. “You’ve been telling me for years that we’re fucking friends, Shidou. And now you’re fucking my ex?”

“No! I was—” Rin punches him hard enough to throw him off balance. He falls back hard and bumps into you. He falls into the snow, and it crunches from his impact. “Fuck, Rin.”

Before he can even think about getting up to throw him a harder punch, everyone around him gasps. He turns around to see you on the ground. His fall forced you onto the lake, sliding almost halfway across the ice.

“Oh shit.” Ryusei speaks.

“Oh shit.” you say in a panic, realising what has happened as you manoeuvre yourself upright so you can look at everyone in the distance. Even from so far away, everyone can see how scared you are. Your heavy breaths in quick succession give you away immediately. “Rin!” you cry out, worried that this will be the last thing you ever get to say.

Nobody knows what to do, least of all you. Your eyes begin to water as you worry about what’s going to happen to you.

Fear surges through you as you hear the ice crack.

“Help me!” you scream. “I heard a crack!”

“Don’t panic!” Hyoma tells you, though he knows it’s easier said than done. “Do we go get her or—”

“The ice might break if too many people are on it.” Sae announces. “Lie on your stomach and crawl across slowly.” he instructs you.

You’re shaking but do what you can to position yourself how he’s told you. The breaths you take are slow, but noisy. They’re precarious as you worry about falling beneath the ice never to surface again.

“I’m here, princess.” Rin tells you, steeling his voice in an attempt to calm you down. He’s at the front of the group after shoving past everyone. He drops to the balls of his feet and gets as close to the edge as he can. He sounds calm, but his eyes tell you he’s just as terrified. “I’m right here!”

You nod, tears drip from your eyes and onto your bloodied coat sleeves. Fear isn’t a good enough word to describe what you’re feeling. You’re even scared that your tears are going to be heavy enough to break the ice below.

It’s quiet as you try and move across, and everyone is on tenterhooks waiting for you to get to safety. You even manage to relax a little as you feel like you’re going to make it.

But the ice cracks again.

“Rin!” you cry again, freezing in place. You can’t move. You’re stuck and you don’t know what you can possibly do to get out of this. “I don’t want to die. I love you I love you Rin I don’t want—!”

“Stop it! You’re not going to die!” he tells you fighting back tears. “I have to go and get her.” he announces, but his brother and Ryusei hold him back.

“You can’t. You’ll make it worse.” Sae warns him. “Hey, don’t stop now. You’re nearly here!” Sae tells you, hoping some words of encouragement will be enough to get through to you. He looks behind him, urging everyone to do the same.

“What about those sweets you bought, huh?” Chigiri calls out. “I’ll have to eat them all and get fat if you don’t get over here!”

Everyone laughs, and it even makes you smile a little. You breathe air from your puffed out cheeks as you try and find the courage to keep going. Everyone cheers and hypes you up, it’s the only thing they can think of to keep you calm.

“I’ll make you my hot chocolate I know you like! You can even have all of the marshmallows!” Chigiri tells you.

“We’ll let you pick the movies we watch tonight.” Ryusei chimes in.

“And you can have the comfiest spot on the couch!” Otoya adds.

Everyone keeps talking to you as you do your best to ignore the cracking of the ice. You pick up the pace, finally feeling confident that you’re going to make it.

Rin smiles. An earnest, genuine smile as he sees your confidence build. He drops to his knees and holds his hand out to you, tears spilling over his lash line as a burning need to keep you safe in his arms grows and grows.

“Come back to me, baby.” he sobs silently, fat tears roll down his cheeks as he speaks. You keep your eyes on him as you continue traversing towards him, desperate to hold his hand and be with him again. “Need to tell you how sorry I am. I need to tell you I love you, so please come back.”

He tries to reach out further when you get closer. A few of the guys help keep him secure so he can grab you sooner than he would otherwise. It’s so intense as you ardently strive to hold his almost blue hand.

And your heart skips a beat as you feel his freezing hand touch yours. His eyes light up when he feels you, clutching tightly and pulling you towards him. Everyone else sees that he’s got you and pulls him backwards.

You cry out as you feel the soft snow seep into your clothes, and you look back at the lake. Everyone does. A deep crack forks through the ice, and you jolt as a chunk sinks beneath the water where you’d just been moments ago.

Rin looks at you, chest heaving, and you stare back at him as well.

The other’s back away to give you room to breathe, most of them falling to sit down in the snow themselves after the adrenaline dies off.

“I thought I was going to die.” you tell Rin, and he nods.

“You scared me, princess.” he whispers back, laughing a little but crying more from relief. He pulls you into his arms and hugs you tightly against him, kissing into the crown of your head as he realises you’re safe with him again. He doesn’t care about Ryusei, he doesn’t care about anything. Just this. “I love you so much, I’m so sorry.”

“I love you too.” you mumble into his chest.

He frees you from his hold, only to kiss you passionately in front of everyone. Chigiri cheers first when he notices, the rest soon follow. But it’s just white noise to both of you. You can’t pull away and you think you might stop breathing if you do. But after some time, he breaks it.

“We should go inside, you’re freezing.” he whispers, his forehead rests against yours and he carefully holds each side of your head with both hands. His breathing is almost as stuttered as yours had been on the ice. Something doesn’t feel right.

“Rinnie? Is everything okay?” you wonder.

“Yeah I just,” he huffs, “I need to talk to you about something.”

--

Everyone was so attentive to you when Rin brought you inside. Each of them offered you the world in their own little ways. But Rin had no intention of letting everyone fuss over you. Not when he’d almost lost you, no. He took you to the bathroom instead, determined to clean the blood and outdoor grime from your weary body.

But you’re in his room, now. Sitting by the fireplace and wrapped in blankets that he insisted on swaddling you in. He didn’t even let you get pyjamas from your bedroom. He just gave you some of his sweatpants and a t-shirt.

Not a word is spoken for quite some time as you sit by the fire together. You just watch it crackle and flare as it keeps you both warm.

But you have to know what he meant.

You need to know what he was talking about.

“Do you love me, Rinnie? Really?” you wonder. It makes him hold you tighter against him, unsure why you even need to ask. “You weren’t just saying it because you… wanted to get in my pants or thought I was gonna die today?”

“Of course I love you, princess. Why are you asking me this?”

“B-Because you said you need to talk to me about something.” you remind him, and his gaze drops. “If it’s about letting me down easy, can we just pretend until tomorrow?”

“I don’t want to let you down easy; I want to be with you again.” he explains, firmly. Determined to not let a doubt linger in your pretty head as he tells you. “I want to be better for you this time, because I don’t want you to leave me again.”

“Well… I don’t understand what you wanted to talk to me about.” you tell him, and he frowns. “Is it your girlfriend?”

“… Yeah.” he clears his throat. “I’m scared I’m going to lose you. But I need to tell you about her.”

You don’t say anything, you just look at him with wide eyes as you wait for him to tell you. It scares you to think about what he might say. The possibilities are endless as you think about what’s going on in his mind as he searches for the courage to speak. What could he possibly say to you that would make you leave him again?

“I knew you were in the hallway when Shidou was in my room. I recognise that strawberry and coconut body cream you use, you always used it when we were together.” he explains. And you realise he’s talking about the day you’d accidentally eavesdropped on them. “I was about to tell Ryusei I missed you. But when I knew you were there, I thought I’d see if you’d be jealous if I moved on.”

“… You lied?” you ask.

“Yeah. I’m sorry, it was childish and I didn’t think things would turn out like this.”

You think about what he’s told you for a minute. But you just lay your head on his chest, sighing wistfully as you consider where you are now. “I’m not mad.” you inform him.

“You’re not?”

“No, I can’t be mad.” you tell him, moving your head again so you can kiss his cheek. “I shouldn’t have been spying, and I threw myself at Ryusei to make myself feel better but I made everything worse.”

“I shouldn’t have been so possessive about that, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s—” you stop, kissing his lips sweetly and looking into his eyes. “I’m not mad, Rinnie. I’m happy and I’m alive and I love you.”

He smiles at that, kissing you back again. “I love you too.”

“But if you want to make it up to me…” you start, moving to straddle him so you can kiss him while looking into his eyes. “I wanna watch movies with everyone tonight. And you have to come to!”

He sighs, kissing your neck and nibbling on your earlobe.

“Fine,” he agrees. “As long as you get Chigiri to make me one of his hot chocolates.”

--

© 2023 rinhaler

𝐓𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐎 ⋮ 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈.

bakugou is six when you confidently tell him you’ll marry him, a giggly little toothy grin on your face as you hand him a flower.

“kacchan, one day we’ll get married,” you announce, and then you lean in, planting a soft kiss to his cheek.

he thinks his world just about stops for a moment.

but then he hears a snicker from the behind, and then another, and another—and suddenly he remembers his friends that are watching, a scowl quickly painting over his face as he grimaces.

“gross,” he grumbles, “i’m not marrying you,” he huffs, swiftly turning around and leaving you on your own.

he pretends like he’s forgotten the flower in his hand is still there, that he doesn’t hear you yell, “oh yes you will!” after him as he fights off the blush dusting across his face.

——————————

“you know, i do hate to say i told you so, but—”

“don’t,” bakugou grumbles, cutting you off. and something in his tone tells you he already knows what you’re going to say.

a small part of him is fond of the little memory, happy that things turned out just as you predicted—another part hates you’re about to tease him mercilessly.

“—but i did tell you so,” you grin, staring at the ring on your hand happily, wriggling your fingers to watch it glimmer in your dimly lit bedroom as moonlight pours through the window. you feel the rumble of his chest under your cheek as he grunts, shuffling closer as you lay your ring clad hand on his sternum.

“you never fuckin’ stop talking, do you?” he mutters, but his arm curls around you tighter.

bakugou thinks he’s spent the greater part of his life trying to get better, to be better—he almost forgets that sometimes, he can be just enough as is. and he thinks he always has been with you, worthy of your six year old hand in marriage even as he left you all alone at the sandbox, worthy of your saccharine smile and melodic laugh even as he pushes past you for years and years on end.

and sometimes, when the weight on his chest becomes too much, he almost forgets you’re all he really needs to breathe.

“i would never pass up a chance to tell sir dynamight ‘i told you so’,” you giggle, poking his cheek as he groans. he flicks your forehead, but there’s a slight wobble to his lips as he fights back a fond grin.

“quit callin’ me that, you sound like an idiot,” he scoffs. your finger traces a small heart across his cheek, and he snorts at the cheesiness. “marrying you’s a bad fuckin’ decision,” he sighs.

“hey,” you pout, “that’s rude. we haven’t even been engaged for a full day yet.”

“i don’t know if i’ll make it a full day as your fiancé.”

“aw, katsuki,” you drawl, planting a loud, wet kiss to his jaw, pinching his cheek as he swats your hand away with a scowl, “you can’t wait a whole day, huh? wanna get married that fast?” you tease through wriggled brows.

he wonders what prompted him to buy the ring in the first place.

“don’t flatter yourself,” he huffs flatly.

“well, we can’t elope,” you hum, and by now, your finger has settled for tracing meaningless patterns over his chest, gently running over the skin as his heart beats under your touch. “your mom would kill you if she didn’t get a wedding.”

“hate to break it to you, babe,” he smirks, pinching the tip of your nose playfully as he chuckles, “but marrying me means you’re apart of the bakugou family—so now you gotta feel the old hag’s wrath too. just like the rest of us.”

“nuh uh, i’m too cute,” you argue. it’s silent, and then he lets out a snort before he rolls his eyes, pressing a soft peck to your forehead—and it’s almost his silent way of agreeing.

“you’re trouble ‘s what you are,” he mutters. you hum, smiling thoughtfully, soft, gentle.

he wonders if he’ll ever fully deserve it.

“are you excited?” you murmur, cheek pressing further against his chest as you shuffle closer.

bakugou swallows for a moment. and it should be an easy question to answer—he doesn’t think he’s ever been more excited for something in his life before. not graduating, not going pro, not starting his agency, not even your first date (and you both still pretend he didn’t accidentally blow up the stems of the flowers he got you through sweaty palms.)

he feels his chest grow heavy, the weight of his emotions too much for him to comprehend, and he finds he’s still tumbling down the road of getting better—of being better. but then you kiss his chest under your cheek, and it’s easy to breathe again.

and he’s enough as is—always has been, always will be. your hand, the same hand that you promised him marriage with at six years old, grabs his and entwines your fingers together, and he thinks maybe being better shouldn’t be hard if you walk with him down the road right by his side.

“six year old me would throw a fit,” he mumbles instead, but he knows you have your answer when you giggle.

“six year old me would also say i told you so.”

“‘course you would,” he snorts, and then he tilts your jaw up and kisses your lips like he means it.

and bakugou katsuki, as his thumb runs over your cheek softly, like he’s holding the world in his hands and standing with the sun under his feet, can’t wait to kiss you on your wedding day.

© hanmas do not plagiarize, repost, translate to other sites, or recommend on platforms outside tumblr such as tik tok

fracture IV

ran x reader w bonten sprankled in

summary: bonten attempts to earn your trust. you learn a bit more about ran's philosophy on life, and he rails you into oblivion.

cw - drugs, smut, guns, murder, praise, degradation, dub!con, reader is a sex worker w a sick brother. ran likes you!!! likes you a lot!! too much probably, probably far too much. a/n extra long because i made you wait.

minors dni

prev

Ran doesn’t stir with you tucked against him, doesn’t dream. Not with your head on his chest, your breathing soft, your arms wrapped around him. Even if you wanted to, you don’t dare move, your fingers laced with his. He sleeps through the night, and you notice, as your pain pokes through your own slumber and wakes you, that he stays fully in place until midday, when his phone nearly vibrates itself off his nightstand. He groans loudly, picking it up without opening his eyes and throwing it hard across the room. You watch the screen shatter and the contact picture light up. 

“It’s Mikey.” You whisper. 

“Don’t care.” He mumbles, rolling onto his side and nestling you into his chest. “Too comfortable.” His chest is bare, his skin warm from being under the blankets, and you press your lips to his collarbone. He runs his hands down  your body and you realize for the first time the pain doesn’t make tears spring to your eyes. He hums again, a soft, deep sound, pressing   his lips to your cheek. “Wanna get high?”

“Mhm.” You breathe, not able to imagine any sweeter bliss than being able to escape your body for a moment, or several hours. 

“Drawer on the right,” He yawns, “Roll me something, sweetheart.” You struggle your way out from under him and scoot across the soft sheets, digging in the drawer for ziplock baggie and a tin. It’s already ground, of course it is, and you painstakingly arrange it on the expensive looking lavender rolling paper. Ran wraps his arms needily around your waist, it’s raining outside, the water hitting the paynes of glass in his bedroom window distort the image of the city. You gingerly roll it up, licking the paper and setting it on the bed, before taking his heavy silver lighter from the drawer. He releases you and flops on his back. You struggle with the lighter mechanism, though, and after a few futile flicks he snatches it from  your clumsy hands and lights it himself, holding the flame to the end of the joint, the smell of weed, smoke, and lavender filling the air. He inhales, and holds it, tossing the lighter on the bed with the cap on, and pulling the joint from his lips, beckoning you downward. 

You know what he’s asking for, and you kiss him, getting a lungful of smoke as he breathes out into you, his free hand holding your face in place, thumb sinking into the plush of your cheek as dizziness overtakes you. He holds you there for a few seconds, and then pulls away, watching you hold it as long as you’re able to, before you cough the lightly floral smoke out and he laughs, running his fingers through his hair. 

“You have to relax,” he coaches, picking the lighter back up and taking another hit, “Try again.” You watch him hold the smoke in his lungs again, completely maintaining eye contact with you, as his consciousness gets light and floaty he starts to get distracted by details of your beauty, the curve of your jaw, the shadow your eyelashes cast on your cheek. He holds the joint between two fingers and takes your face with both hands, kissing you hard as he blows the smoke into your mouth. He watches your eyes water, and lets his own flutter shut. “Good girl,” he murmurs, watching you struggle to hold it, but reads the desperation to please in your eyes. “Let it out slow,” he murmurs, mouth finding the valley of your collarbones, he tosses the joint on the floor, and you have one panicked moment about the rug before his teeth sink into your skin and you gasp in surprise, then cough. “Shhhhh,” he breathes, feeling the way your chest spasms and sputters, “Shhh, baby.” He kisses up your jaw. 

“Sir,” you get out, the word breathy and spent, and he chuckles, you feel the vibrations of his voice on your skin. 

“Nah,” he manages. “Something else, somethin’ else right now.” His mind is spinning, it’s been ages since he’s had time to relax like this, to spend the morning in bed with someone, to put his guard down. He feels your back arch up off the mattress and slips a hand underneath it, wanting to encourage the posture, and feels that some of your swelling has gone down around your ribs. His lips find yours, heavy lidded and with clumsy hands you kiss like teenagers, the occasional click of teeth, the pulling away when you’re breathless. 

“Please,” you try, body warm and tingly, arching your back up off the mattress, grinding your hips against his. 

“Hmm,” he hums against your lips, pushing a leg in between yours, feeling you grind against it. “Try again.” 

“Please,” you think as hard as you’re capable of, rifling through titles, he was so formal, he slept in designer underwear, it couldn’t be-, “Daddy,” the word slips from your mouth and he lets out a low growl, squaring his weight above your own, hands in your hair. 

“That’s my girl.” He kisses you again, in no rush, lips trailing down your body, pulling the t-shirt he’d lent you up over your tits, burying his face in between them with a loud groan, before kissing up to your nipple, taking it in his mouth, letting you feel the flash of pain with his teeth before the soothing flick of his tongue. You reach for him but he shakes his head. “Stay still.” he orders softly, and you obey, trying your hardest not squirm as he kisses your stomach, the inside of your thighs, licking a stripe right up your core. He hums softly, and you feel his breath on your skin before you feel his tongue, nudging your clit out of its hood, starting with the most gentle stimulation you’ve ever felt. 

You’ve been eaten out before but this, this is different, his violet eyes locked to yours as he teases you, providing just enough pleasure to make your back arch up, to change the rhythm of your breathing. He moves so slowly, so deftly, pushing one finger inside you, then two, that you can’t believe how quickly the pleasure starts to become overwhelming, starts to have you moaning loudly, squirming despite his orders, grabbing fistfuls of the sheets. 

“I’m gonna,” you choke out, before realizinig, “I mean, please, please can I, daddy, I need to-” 

“M mm,” he shakes his head, the vibrations from his voice sending you up into a dizzying high, “You cum on my cock,” he lifts his head, but keeps fingering you, you whimper at the loss of  stimulation, “Nowhere else, understand?” You whimper an affirmation and he chuckles, wiping his face and climbing on top of you. He kicks his briefs off, and you have exactly one second of apprehension when you feel him press the head of his cock to your swollen and throbbing clit. He hums again, watching the thoughts melt from your brain as he eases inside, ready to tease you before he feels the way your softness is wrapping around him. “Fuck,” he breathes, shocked, looking down at you. 

“W-what?” You manage, staring up at him, and he doesn’t respond, just slams his hips against yours, filling you so quickly it’s like the air is crushed from  your lungs, your vision completely whites out. 

“Feel so good, baby,” he growls, at odds with his previously lightly stoned blissed out demeanor, no, now he’s kissing you hungrily, groaning every time he bottoms out inside you, pinning your wrists to the bed as he pulls sharp music from  your lips with every thrust. 

The heavy slap of his body against yours is a steady rhythm, and his hand moves from your wrists to lace his fingers with yours, it’s oddly intimate even as your mind floats outside of your body, the sound of his groans becoming deadened by the pleasurable, blissful high. You hear something, after a few minutes, and Ran must too because his hips stutter, and he swears under his breath. 

“Fuck off,” he calls loudly and then leans down, kissing you softly, pressing his forehead to yours with his eyes closed. 

“Oh god,” you murmur, “M’so close, I’m so, please, please can I come, daddy,” you suck in a sharp breath, 

“Shhhhhh,” He breathes, “Shh baby, be quiet and ‘n cum for me,” you let go of your orgasm like you’ve been released from a teather, flying forward as you hear him groan in your ear, feel his lips on your cheek, when you hear the sound again, raised voices in the living room. Before you can do anything, Ran pins you to the bed, one fist closing around your neck almost lazily as the door to his bedroom swings open and his brother physically recoils. 

“Jesus christ,” Rindou swears, covering his eyes. 

“I know that when we lived together you’d knock,” Ran drawls, but there’s a dark undercurrent to his tone as you struggle underneath him, he’s choking you in earnest as you cum beneath him, evidently far more affected by the weed than he was. “Maybe I should forcefully reacquaint you with the habit?” 

“Maybe you should let her breathe?” Rindou snaps, but Ran only tightens his grip, reducing your gasps beneath him to gurgles. 

“She breathes when  you tell me why the fuck you’re here?” He says coolly. 

“Shions dead!” Rindou blurts angrily, “Mikey’s been calling you all morning.” Ran releases your throat and you suck in a deep breath, hyperventilating to catch up, still only mostly aware of what’s happening around you. 

“Get the fuck out of my room.” Ran says, but there’s less of an edge to it. “I’ll be out in a sec.” Rindou nods, and Ran pulls back from you, dazed and dizzy on the mattress. You’re still catching your breath and he spares you a glance as he reflects. “Sorry, baby,” He says after a moment, gathering you in his arms, sitting you up against his chest. “Daddy got angry at Rin and he took it out on you, he’s sorry.” You whimper softly, pressing your face against his chest. “Do you forgive me?” He asks, and instead of the low voice, laced with a threat that you were used to, it sounds almost, vulnerable. You nod immediately and he presses his lips to your forehead. “Sweet girl.” He murmurs. 

“Did you know him well?” You ask, and Ran gives you a gentle squeeze before standing, and yanking on a pair of pants, muttering about blue balls, before turning to you like he’d barely heard your question, you watch him process your question in real time. 

“Yeah.” Ran says, he sounds a bit distracted but you watch him physically shake it off, “Get dressed honey, big day for us.” You rub your eyes. 

“I’m so high.” You mutter, and it’s the closest thing he’s heard to a complaint since he picked you up off the floor of your bedroom in the brothel. 

“C’mon dummy,” he throws something at you and you realize it’s a dress, “I had them getcha some shit.” It’s white, and it doesn’t dip too low between your breasts, but as you wriggle into it you see that it’s not exactly modest or warm, cutting squarely across the top of your chest and ending mid thigh. It’s tight, but you can move in it. 

“Do I get a gun?” You ask, and he considers, toothbrush hanging out of his mouth and garbling his speech. 

“I’ll think about it.” He yanks you into his bathroom and passes you a bottle. “Wash your face and put sunscreen on.” He orders, before spitting his toothpaste in the sink. He hurries you through a morning routine, smoothing your zipper in the back of your dress before pulling you out into his living room. Rindou is standing with his arms crossed, Yuuta and Isami are waiting for you. 

“Mikey’s pissed.” Rindou says, but Ran doesn’t look concerned, his shattered phone now in his suit pocket. 

“Mikey’s always pissed,” Ran rolls his eyes, and you follow the two of them through the building, down in the elevator and out into a sleek black escalade that Isami drives. They wait to discuss details, bickering until the car door closes and the engine hums to life. “So what happened?” Rindou sighs. 

“Went looking for Daito, found Shion.” 

“Fuck.” Ran pulls his Juul out of his pocket and takes a puff. “You don’t think Daito had shit with Shion, right?” 

“I dunno,” Rindou shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “I got a tip from someone by the docks, coulda been a bad one.” 

“If Shion’s dead it’s more likely the tip was a trap.” Ran decides, resting one hand on your bare thigh, squeezing it.”You find the guy who gave it to you?” 

“Nah, he’s in the wind.” Rindou scowls, looking out the window. “Message wasn’t to us by the way, written in blood over Shions head it was, “More to come, Mikey-kun.’” 

“Mikey-kun,” Ran repeats, blowing out a puff of cotton candy scented smoke. “Who the fuck calls Sano Manjiro Mikey-kun.” 

“Not me.” Rindou shivers, and you feel his eyes flick to you. “Any chance that’s what he likes to be called in bed?” You shake your head. 

“God.” You confirm. “The girls I knew who’ve slept with him called him God.” Ran chokes on his own spit, coughing in the seat. 

“Shit, that’s hilarious, of course he does.” He shakes his head. “Nah, good to know it’s not just us, interesting that when one of them got to her they threatened me, though,” he rubs his chin again, “I gotta dig into this myself, fuck, I fucking hate actually havin’ to do work.” 

“We know.” Rindou says dryly. “There’s a meeting when we get to the offices, you gotta leave her outside.” 

“All good,” Ran puts his Juul away, “She wants to nap anyway,” he reaches over and boops your nose, “She did like two hits and suddenly she’s an invalid.” You pout, unable to control your reactions, you were used to alcohol, and the prescription drugs had made you so out of it that you’d completely folded in on yourself. It had been ages since you’d smoked weed, and the lightness of your head was making the fast paced conversation grating. “Adorable.” Ran gives you a squeeze and light pain blooms in your chest, a reminder that you’re still recovering. 

You tune out the rest of their conversation, fiddling with your phone, texting your brother that you love him and then burying your face in Ran’s arm, he stops mid sentence to look down at you. 

“C’mon,” he says, glancing at Rin, “You don’t want something like this?” Rindou sighs. 

“I don’t want to talk about this with you.” He says, pointedly looking out the window. “What I like is-” 

“Stupid.” Ran cuts him off, a huge grin on his face. “You want someone who pushes you around-” 

“I do.” Rindou says coldly. “I’m sure you’ll come calling when she gets tired of you and you’re too soft to put her in her place.” 

“I don’t need to spank baby,” Ran coos, cupping your face in two huge hands like you’re some kind of doll. “She’s so good for me, isn’t she?” You pout further and nod. Rindou rolls his eyes. 

“I’m not going to let you mock me for this.” Rindou says stiffly. “You want to care for something helpless,” You frown at that, burying deeper into Ran, who chuckles, “And I’m sure that’s admirable on some level but I’m not interested in that.”  

“Are you helpless,” Ran elbows you, still baby talking, “Or did you shoot two grown men through the heart in cold blood a few days ago?” You wince, but he just smirks. 

“I’ll believe that when I see it.” Rindou says, as the car pulls to a stop in front of the offices. You hide behind Ran, who leaves you somewhat reluctantly with Isami and Yuuta in his office, before striding into the conference room where everyone is waiting for him. Mikey looks thunderous but Ran ignores him. 

“Haitani.” Mikey’s eyes narrow. 

“Sano.” Ran quips, flopping heavily in a chair. “Have I ever answered a phone call before 11AM?” There’s a silence. “Ever, in the history of the organization, anyone, anyone who’s called me, have I picked up the phone between the hours of 4AM and 11AM?” 

“No.” Sanzu answers, as if he’s just come to this realization. 

“You need to answer your phone.” Mikey snaps, eyes narrowed and bloodshot. “The girl is a distraction.” 

“With all due respect,” Ran says, absolutely neutral, ice cold, “I’ve done more work since acquiring the girl than I’ve done in months.” He cracks a grin then. “Think she’s motivating.” 

“You need to answer your phone.” Mikey repeats, but he just sounds tired, letting Ran off the hook, changing the subject. “Kakucho, what do we know?” 

“Group formed at the docks, around thirty men tops, no international connections, calls themselves the silver dragons.” Kakucho says, and the meeting moves forward, with Kakucho walking through the known members and identities, until Ran clears his throat. 

“Should we ask her if any of these guys were the one who tried to kill her?” He reaches over and takes a sip of Kokonoi’s coffee and makes a face. “Why is there so much fuckin’ cream in here jesus Koko?” Kokonoi swipes the cup back and scowls. 

“Get your own fucking coffee.” He snaps. “It’s your own fault you showed up late and it’s cold.” 

“Actually,” Mikey says, cutting in, “We have to talk to you about the girl.” 

“Shoot.” Ran says, leaning back in his chair and lacing his fingers behind his head. 

“She’s loyal to you,” Mikey explains, “But we need her to be loyal to us.” He scoots forward, resting his elbows on the table. “She’s killed for us, which means she’s earned her tattoo but I don’t want to give it to her until she’s really a part of this.” Ran’s brow furrows, he nods slowly. 

“You wanna do a traditional initiation?” He asks, and then answers his own question. “I dunno,” he rubs his chin. “She’s wily, but I think any guy we put up against her would put her back in the hospital. She was barely alive for the first few days after that guy broke into her place. Plus she’s still got broken ribs, not to mention any man who lays a hand on her I’m probably gonna maim, I’m old fashioned like that,” he drawls, and Sanzu glances at him but Ran doesn’t turn to meet his eyes, “Depending on how I’m feelin’ that day.” Mikey waves the idea away. 

“I don’t think a traditional initiation fight would be productive for her. Kokonoi had another idea about how to ‘earn’ her loyalty.” Mikey pauses, studying the executive who remains unreadable. “You know the new group cutting in on our arms sales in the south of the city.” Ran nods. 

“Small time problem, big time headache.” He says, shrugging. “I’m familiar.” 

“We need to draw them out,” Mikey explains, “Koko suggested we use her as bait, and then rescue her.” He keeps his eyes on Ran, who doesn’t react. After a moment, he stretches, yawning. 

“Well, if you were waitin’ to see if I’d betray my brothers for a bitch I just met you’ve got your answer.” He says, pulling his Juul out of his pocket. “Where does she have to be, and what time am I picking baby up?” 

“Actually,” Rindou pipes up. “We think she’s plenty loyal to you. We think it might be better to have one of us who is less familiar with her execute the rescue.” Ran doesn’t balk, shrugging. 

“Cool.” A little smirk flits across his lips. “Probably shouldn’t be Kokonoi, though.” 

“No,” Mikey agrees, and then his eyes narrow, “Wait, we were thinking I’d do it, or Kakucho would, but why not Kokonoi?” 

“Oooh,” Ran’s smirk widens, “You wanna tell ‘em why she might not want to trust you?” 

“She offered.” Kokonoi says stiffly, looking away. 

“He put a cigarette out on her hand.” Ran blows out a cloud of cotton candy scented smoke. “So I think that ship’s sailed.” 

“She offered.” Kokonoi crosses his arms over his chest, most of the executives don’t react but Mikey’s eyes narrow a single degree. 

“Does this mean I stop getting shit for fucking her while she-” Sanzu starts. 

“No.” Ran and Mikey say at the same time, then Mikey scowls, and clears his throat. 

“No.” Mikey repeats, rubbing his eyes. “Listen,” he eyes the group, “You’re all used to treating women like they're disposable, and you can’t,” He pinches the bridge of his nose, “She isn’t. All you have to do,” he turns to Ran, “Is bring her with you down to investigate the docks, you’ll get separated and I think I should be the one to,” he catches Ran’s expression and trails off. 

“Rin should lose her.” He says, leaning forward, “She wouldn’t believe that I’d let her go, I’ve been carrying her everywhere for a few days, plus there’s a chance she gets my gun and shoots whoever tries to pull us apart, less of a chance of that with Rin ‘cause she doesn’t know where he keeps his.” Mikey turns to Rindou who shrugs. 

“Fine.” He says, and Ran stands. 

“I’ll grab her?” He says. 

“Go ahead.” Ran strides out into the hallway, heart beating uncomfortably as the door closes behind him, but shoves the feelings down as he goes to his office. You’re nestled on the couch, wrapped in his suit jacket as you sleep on the bed. He touches your shoulder and you blink up at him. “You got work to do sweetheart,” he grins. “Can’t just lie on your back all day anymore.” You groan softly, but stand, grateful to be in the light dress and shoes he’d given you instead of virtually naked in his shirt as you follow him down the hallway. He opens the door to the office and you feel all of their eyes on you immediately. Your palms break into a sweat but you maintain composure. 

“Do you recognize any of these men?” Kakucho asks you, handing you his phone. “You can flip through the pictures.” You scroll through his phone, pausing on one. 

“He came to see me pretty regularly,” You hand the phone back to Kakucho, showing him a broad man with blue in his hair. Kakucho sits straight up in his chair, snatching the phone from you and putting it straight up on the table. “Maybe um, once a week?” Your hand drifts towards Ran, who takes it, rubbing circles in your palm. “But he’s not the person who um, who I stabbed.” 

“We know him.” Kakucho said, brow furrowing. “That’s Taiju Shiba.” You nod. “You saw him regularly?” You shiver. 

“None of um, none of the other girls could,” you pause, choosing your words carefully. “He was particular, and after he’d always lose his temper, half with me, half with himself, but he never hurt any of us badly enough to get kicked out.” 

“How the fuck is Taiju Shiba getting in and out of a place I’m in charge of without anyone calling me,” Ran snaps, already pulling his phone out of his pocket, “I’m breaking someone’s knees.” Mikey nods, and you can practically feel the waves of malevolence rolling off of him. 

“Sounds like you know what you’re doing today,” He says, and Ran nods, already pulling his phone out and starting for the hallway. 

“You’re with Rin.” Ran says quickly, giving you a quick pat on the head before disappearing around the corner, his voice carries, his tone is pure ice. “Yeah, hi this is Haitani Ran, I need to speak with whoever the fuck thinks they’re running this place.” A few men stand, Rindou included. He gestures towards the door. 

“Hope you’re not too used to being carried everywhere.” He says gruffly, and you shake your head, nearly sober, dutifully and silently following him out. You can hear Ran when you pass his office, but barely. He’s not shouting, he sounds so calm that a shiver runs up your spine. You hold your head up, following Rindou out of the restaurant, and into a car. 

“Where are Yuuta and Isami?” You ask finally, when the two of you slide into the backseat and Rindou starts checking his email on his phone. 

“Busy.” Rindou says without looking at you. You don’t speak again for another fifteen minutes, a light snow starts to fall outside the car. You’re stuck in traffic. Rindou clears his throat. “How’s your brother?” 

“Oh.” Your head snaps to his, attempting to gauge the sincerity of his request. “I um, we texted this morning.” You let out a little breath. “Chemo sucks.” Rindou nods. 

“So I’ve heard.” You turn away from him again, staring out the window at the little white clumps falling from the sky when he speaks again. “You don’t, you don’t really understand what’s happening to you, do you?” 

“A lot of things have happened to me.” You don’t turn to him, still watching the snow. “I either land on my feet or I don’t. So far I’ve been lucky.” 

“Look at me when I speak to you.” He says sharply, and you immediately turn around, eyes wide, holding his gaze. “Thank you.” He says more stiffly, “And I mean, you don’t understand who we are, and what we do.” 

“Your brother moves product into the country, manages illegal brothels,” You shrug, “He covered up murders.” Rindou nods. “So I have an inkling, I’m not a fawn in the woods.” He sighs and rubs his eyes. You realize he looks exhausted. “Can I,” you cock your head at him, “Can I do anything for you?” He blinks at you, you tentatively reach across the seat, moving quite slowly, slow enough so that if he wants to bat your hand away or tell you to fuck off that he can. “It’s,” you pick up one of his hands, it’s large enough to swallow your own, so you take it with both of yours. “It’s alright, you’re doing your best.” The words are empty, meaningless, but he softens anyway. 

“Is that what you’d do for men?” He asks, examining your hands wrapped around his. “Validate them?” You don’t answer his question, scooting closer to him on the seat, following your instincts. 

“Do you dislike it?” You ask, and he sighs again, leaning against you. He squeezes your hands, letting his eyes close. 

“Just stay where you are.” He murmurs, and it’s about a minute before you feel him fully relax against you. His breathing is soft and even, and he’s heavy and warm in a way that’s comforting and not overwhelming. You drive like that, with him sleeping on your shoulder for nearly half an hour longer, he wakes when the car pulls to a stop. He jerks his hand out of yours, not looking at you as he hops out of the car and holds the door. 

“What are we doing here?” You ask, shivering, Ran’s suit jacket was large but not quite warm enough for the winter weather. 

“I have a meeting.” Rindou says, without looking at you. It’s not a nice neighborhood, with uneven sidewalks and sloping cracked streets, covered in dead weeds that must have fought their way to the sun during the summer only to be choked by the frost. The warehouse you’re in front of seems fully functional, with smoke billowing from a chimney. “We’re meeting Mikey after.” You nod, moving carefully behind him. He pushes the huge metal door open and you’re hit with a familiar smell, the salt, the sea, and fish. You wrinkle your nose as you step inside the small fishpacking plant, and then jump at the heavy thud of someone slicing right through a frozen fish with a cleaver. Rindou frowns at you, offering you his arm. “Does it bother you?” He asks quietly, leading you through the side of the warehouse, “The blood?” You look at the concrete floor, stained with red. 

“Yes.” You say as quietly as possible, well aware of the stares the two of you are drawing. He doesn’t respond, leading you up a metal staircase to a small upper bridge where there are a few offices. You hear the heavy slap of fish hitting the conveyor belt, and shrink a little into Rindou, who stiffens. 

“Needy.” He mumbles, and you swallow, looking away. He knocks on one of the office doors and a man in a suit opens it. 

“Leave your bitch outside.” He growls, looking over at you, eyes dark and beady. Rindou sighs.

“I’d hate to think you’d insult someone so high up in our organization.” His eyes flash. “Care to try again.” 

“Bitch waits outside.” The man says. “S’Chome’s orders.” Rindou raises his eyes and you read a micro expression of genuine surprise on his face. He sighs. 

“She doesn’t like the blood,” He explains impatiently, “Is there another room for her?” You wonder why they’re suddenly making allowances for you, and wonder if what Rindou had said was true, were you now high up in a criminal organization, high enough up to deserve respect? You find out a second later when the man steps out of the room, nodding and grabbing your arm. 

“Don’t touch her,” Rindou hisses, ice in his tone. “She belongs to Bonten.” 

“Whatever.” The man jerks you towards him, you crash hard against his chest and bite back a cry of pain. Rindou pulls his gun like lightning, there are shouts on the floor below. 

“Return her.” Rindou says, hand steady. “Or I’ll shoot you.” 

“Fuck off.” The man snarls, and you’re completely blindsided by a loud crack as Rindou fires his weapon. The man stumbles backwards, blood pooling at his shoulder. 

“C’mon,” Rindou grunts, grabbing your wrist and yanking you down the stairs. You follow, glancing over your shoulder as there are shouts on the factory floor. He starts sprinting, holding onto you tightly. You clatter down the stairs, and make a break for the exit. 

“Why,” you get out, “Why did you-” 

“Don’t fucking talk to me when we’re running!” He says, pulling his phone out of his pocket, elbowing the heavy metal door open just as the men chasing you catch up. One of them goes to grab you, and Rindou drops his phone, fist connecting with the man's jaw, you hear a sickening crunch. You squeak and dash past him out the open door, and the second you’re outside you hear a gun fire several times, and Rindou comes tearing out of the building, somehow looking calm. “What the hell are you doing,” he rolls his eyes, plucking you off your feet and taking off running with your body cradled to his chest, “I let you go, you were supposed to run?” 

“I wasn’t going to leave you!” You cry out, and for one moment, for one split second, he’s not there, running through with warehouse district carrying some prostitute. He’s sixteen, and it’s summer, he’s standing in an alley behind a convenience store. 

“I,” the girl in front of him is fidgeting, “I brought you this.” She’s small, smaller than him, and shy, she passes him a package of band aids. “I see you around, and sometimes, um, you’re a bit banged up, and I thought, um,” she takes a step backwards from him. “I thought you could use these.” He quirks an eyebrow. “I’m um, I’m gonna go-” She’d said, and re remembers now that she’d tripped, and he’d caught her, dropping the bandages on the ground as his hands had flown to her waist, righting her body. 

“Do you want,” he’d said, unable to think of anything else. “Do you want to ride on my bike?”

 He remembers now, the feeling of something small, and vulnerable, the feeling of protecting someone, of having something worth protecting, had it really been since that summer that he’d felt this feeling? He tightens his grip on your body, ducking behind a dumpster, hearing gunshots ping against the metal. He sets you on the ground, reloading his gun. 

“You should have,” He says curtly, lifting his head up and firing a couple rounds before ducking back down, “You should have run away, and hid somewhere. That would have been normal,” He grunts, firing just once this time before returning his attention to you, measuring your sincerity to the best of his ability. He’d checked up on your story, out of an abundance of caution, while you were asleep on his couch, and paid off your medical debts personally when it turned out you’d been telling the truth. Still, it had been hard to imagine the way you’d been clinging to Ran wasn’t theatrical, despite the circumstances. Here, in this moment, as little white tufts of snow begin to fall from the sky, he sees what Ran sees when he looks at you. Your eyes are wide, and he watches you inhale before taking a step forward, and somehow, later he’d claim you must have been filled with adrenaline, you reach out and knock him behind you, snatching the gun from his hand and firing three times in quick succession. Rindou rips his gun back from you and swears violently. All three of the men who’d been chasing you are lying on the asphalt. 

“I got their legs,” you say urgently, and Rindou detects a slight self congratulatory note in your voice. 

“I liked this gun,” He grumbles, “C’mon.” He pulls you forward and the two of you run through the warehouse district, well aware that essentially nothing had gone as planned when by some miracle, a huge black escalade pulls up in front of you just as you hear the shouts in the distance getting closer, and sirens. The door opens and Mikey hops out, not giving you time to get in, throwing you over his shoulder and getting back in, barely letting Rindou leap in after you before the tires squeal on the pavement and the car starts to tear out of there. 

“What the hell happened,” Mikey slides you off his shoulder, holding you partially on his lap as you squirm. 

“You tell him.” Rindou’s already pulling his Juul out of his pocket. “I’m fucking exhausted.” 

“One,”  you manage, “One of them grabbed me, Rindou um, Rindou shot them and then we ran.” 

“No,” Rindou says sharply, “That is not what happened.” He blows out a cloud of cucumber melon scented smoke, Mikey’s hand drifts a little lower on your hip. “What happened is I let her run, and she didn’t fucking run.” 

“I wasn’t going to leave you.” You repeat, and feel the Bonten leader’s grip on you tighten. “I, I’m not sure you even told me to go.” 

“I didn’t think I had to,” Rindou says, exasperated. “They were shooting and you didnt have a fucking gun.” 

“I never would have left you there.” You say, and it’s the closest any of them have heard to you raising your voice since they’ve met you. There’s a beat of stunned silence, you nearly vibrate with fear, realizing you’d just snapped at a man, who not only has a gun, was clearly keen on using it. 

“Don’t talk to him like that.” Mikey says softly, adjusting the way you’re half in his lap so tha you can look him in the eyes. “Do you understand?” You nod, swallowing. “I want you to say out loud that you understand,” and fear erases all your indignation. 

“Yes god,” you whisper, and Mikey breaks into a wide smile. “I understand.” 

“Jesus.” Rindou takes another puff on the juul. “I’m gonna tall Ran his bitch bites.” Your eyes shoot open. 

“Please,” you beg him, twisting in Mikey’s lap, “I’m so sorry, I just, I would never ever,” you take a deep breath, “I would never ever leave you behind.” Rindou reaches out, patting the top of your head, remembering the girl with the band aids. 

“Yeah, yeah you’re a good girl.” He shakes his head, watching you brush off the praise. Mikey gives you a squeeze, tucking you into his chest, and giving Rindou a confused look, asking him to elaborate. Rindou shrugs, and then glances meaningfully at you. You stay tense, ears ringing, disliking how you were starting to get used to the gunfire. 

“Are you afraid?” Mikey tries, trying to see what of his plan could be salvaged. You shake your head.

“No.” You mumble, then lift your head. “Not now.” 

“Good.” Mikey presses his lips to the top of your head. “Good.” Rindou pulls his phone out of his pocket, wincing at the shattered screen. 

Ran: she okay?

Rindou: yeah. 

Rindou: you give a shit if Mikey’s got his hands all over her?

Ran: depends

Ran: does it seem like she likes it? 

Rindou resists the urge to sigh out loud, and effortlessly maintains a blank expression as he inspects you, the way you’re not holding Mikey back, the way your eyes keep flicking to the door. 

Rindou: Nah 

Ran: that’s my girl. 

Rindou: I’d be a shitty brother if I didn’t say if Mikey wants her she’s Mikeys 

Ran: Mikey only wants her ‘cause she’s new 

Ran: he’ll get bored

Rindou: and you? 

Ran: baby needs me. 

Rindou: and you like that, to be needed. 

Ran: yeah it’s validating. You don’t feel the same way? 

Rindou: I get it, it’s not for me. 

Ran: lame

Ran: baby’s gonna cook for me, and clean, and hide a glock in the rice sack in the pantry.

Ran: the perfect woman does exist. 

Rindou: *can be bought

Ran: same difference. I’m not gonna let anyone else have her.

Mikey rubs  your back, the three of you ride in silence across the city. He taps the bridge of your nose when you start nodding off, producing something from his pocket, a small blue pill. 

“Open.” He orders, and you do, letting him place it on your tongue. He looks down at you, not understanding why you’re still looking up at him, tongue out, and then realizing you’re waiting for him to tell you, “Close.” He murmurs and you do, burying your head in his chest as it dissolves, a heavy warmth washing over your body. You’re in and out for the rest of the drive, unaware until you feel the blistering cold, the day darkened in twilight, as Mikey carries you upstairs. You wait to be deposited with Ran, but instead find yourself alone in what you imagine is Mikey’s office. It’s cold, and you’re so high the world blurs, you can’t focus on the map on his wall, on the dark wood of his desk, on the snow falling outside his window. You take a fistful of his soft shirt for stability and feel his lips on your head again. 

“God,” you murmur, and he responds. 

“Hm?” 

“Is um,” you blink up at him, “Am I in trouble?” He shakes his head, not all had gone as planned, he thinks, but he’d rescued you and you’d wounded the enemy. “Can I ask you for something?” He hesitates, wondering if it’ll be money, revenge, a purse, if you’ll show your true colors now when your vulnerable, he wants to smack himself, of course Haitani wouldn’t notice if you were a gold digger he- “I want to move my brother to a hospital in Tokyo.” His head stops spinning, and you droop a little. “He’s at one in Hyogo,”  you mumble, no longer able to maintain eye contact, focusing on the pattern on the rug. 

“I can have someone look into it.” He says. “Why haven’t you done this yourself?” You swallow. 

“I couldn’t afford it.” You whisper. “No matter how much I worked.” Several things click into place in that moment, the way you’d take Taiju as a client even if the other girls were scared of him, how much you’d naturally deferred to them, desperate for approval, all of it to earn more money for your brother, none of it for you. And more troublingly, none of it out of a sense of loyalty to Bonten. 

“So that’s why,” he says, moving you, so that you have to hold eye contact with him, he sees how dilated your pupils are. “That’s why you’re so good for us, hm? For your brother?” He watches you struggle, and then shake your head. 

“I’m,” you swallow, clearly struggling to for sentences, but when you speak you reframe it a bit. “I’m good for you because you’re good to me. I um,” you rub your eyes, trying to focus, remembering something you’d heard years ago. “I think it’s about what we owe to each other.” He nods, processing slowly, rubbing your back. 

“We’ll take care of it.” He says, deciding in the moment. “I assume you’ll want to move him yourself, one of the executives can take you when we have business in Hyogo.” You reach up and wrap your arms around his neck, letting out a long breath. 

“Thank you,” you manage, “Thank you so, so much.” 

“You belong to us now.” He says, and feels you nod. “Do you have any tattoos?” He asks, and it takes you a beat, mind still moving slowly, before you realize why he asked.  

“No,” You whisper, not moving. He hums softly in response. You’re not sure how long he holds you on his lap, working quietly. You don’t feel like you can ask about Ran, not when Mikey’s agreed to give you this, but you find your mind wandering to him, wondering if he knows where you are, if he’s worried. It’s late when you squirm eventually, drawing Mikey’s attention from his computer. 

“I’m supposed to,” you sigh, “I’m supposed to be accompanying Mr. Haitani to his meeting.” Mikey balks internally, but isn’t quite ready to spread his cards on the table. 

“Go.” He says, letting you get up and stumble to the hallway, legs pins and needles. Your chest still aches, your face still throbs, but for the first time in a few days you feel like movement isn’t an ordeal. The hallways are empty, you pad across the soft carpeting, pausing at Ran’s door, knocking softly against the glass panel. 

“Come in.” You hear, and push it open just enough to fit your body through, closing it behind you. Something in his chest warms as he watches your face light up at the sight of him, and his lips curl into a little smile. “Hey, sweetheart.” 

“Hi.” You walk quickly over to him and then hover at the side of his desk, unsure where you should sit, he watches you decide between climbing in his lap and pulling a chair out, one hand hovering above the back of his leather backed guest chair, sitting at a slight angle next to his desk, your eyes flicking around nervously. “I,” you say, sitting quickly, having made up your mind. “You have a dinner appointment.” 

      “That I do.” He says, standing. “Heard you were a bit of trouble.” He watches the fear flood your face and chuckles. “Relax, I think it’s funny that you snapped at Rin.” He adjusts his suit jacket, today it’s a pale blue, “Besides, we’ll need to get you cleaned up a little,” he smirks, “Can’t take you anywhere, can I?” He reaches out and cups your face, you feel him rubbing at something and when he pulls his hand away you see the blood staining his fingers. “We’ve got time,” he strides towards the door, “C’mon, dinner’s at 11.” 

You’re whisked back to the apartment, Isami and Yuuta are back with little explanation, Yuuta driving you home, Isami grunting a half greeting to you as he holds the car door. Ran scrolls through his phone, keeping one hand on your bare thigh, glancing at you. You’d volunteered less information than he’d hoped for, even given his brothers reassurance. He waits until you’re alone to question you, until Isami is standing outside his penthouse door, and Yuuta is leaning against the cabinet in the kitchen. He’s patient enough to wait until the second the bedroom door closes, and not an inch more. 

“How was your day?” He asks, and you don’t catch the edge to his tone with your mind, it doesn’t arouse suspicion, but something deep in your emotional instincts bristles without interpreting the feeling. 

“Ah,” you start, and then decide it was better to tell the truth. “I was afraid.” You look down at your hands, Ran stops unbuttoning his shirt long enough to catch the genuine expression on your face. It’s dark in his room, the sun had set quickly behind the clouds, he leans over and flicks the light on, but it only means your face is set in deeper contrast, the shadow of your form more stark on his white wall. He watches you fidget, and then look at him again, and resists the urge to comfort you, to wrap you up in his arms. No, you needed to choose him, and he needed to condition you to do it as much as possible. “I was glad Rindou was there.” You say eventually. 

“And Mikey?” Ran says, nearly too quickly, just controlled enough to keep the tone casual. You shrug.

“Mikey’s been very kind to me.” And that’s it, that’s when you reach for him, right on fucking schedule, he accepts, taking your hand and gently holding you against his chest, “But I just feel safer with you.” You mumble, and fuck, he has to remind himself that you’re not lying that he knows you’re not lying, that he’s seen you broken, and drunk, and high, and even at your most vulnerable you kept reaching for him. He rubs your back. “If that’s okay to say, I don’t want to get you in trouble.” You feel his lips on the top of your head. 

“We can just keep that between us for now,” he gives you a squeeze and you wince, he ignores it. “Our little secret.” You nod. “C’mon. Let’s shower.” 

_____

“You were supposed to lose her,” Mikey snaps, pacing in front of Rindou. They’re still at the office and Rindou is draped over a chair while Sanzu arranges neat lines of cocaine on the coffee table. 

“I mean, you got what you wanted?” Rindou shrugs. “Seems like she trusts you a fuckton more now, you saved her, shame we didn’t get to spend more time in the office before that guy got aggro with me-” 

“Didn’t he get aggro with her?” Sanzu pipes up and Rindou shakes his head. 

“Nah, he was pushing me around. He was just using her.” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Listen, Mikey, you’re not gonna get her attached to all of us the way she’s attached to my brother overnight.” Mikey stops pacing, his shoulders drooping a degree. “We don’t need her that bad,” Rindou continues, “She’s a nice to have. Not a need. In time, she’ll trust us. Ran was the person who picked her up when she was fully dissasociated and broken, twice, and I mean that literally. I’m sure there’s some chemical shit to traumabonding.” 

“Trauma bonds are weak.” Mikey mutters. “Temporary. I’d know.” Rindou wonders if he’s thinking of Izana, of Shinchiro, or someone else he’d lost. “Fine, you’re right though. She’s a nice to have. Get her tattooed and figure out which one of us should help her move her brother down to Tokyo.” 

“Will do,” Rindou stands, and stretches. “Can I,” he stops himself. “Mikey if you wanna fuck her you can fuck her. It’s just a cunt, you can afford it.” Mikey presses his lips together, Sanzu watches with eyes like saucers. “What you can’t do, is fuck her when she gets serious with my brother.” Rindou says, eyes darkening a little. 

“I know.” Mikey says, meeting his gaze. 

“For the good of this family,” Rindou says, shrugging. “That’s what you told her, that her and her brother are family now.” 

“I know.” Mikey repeats, fumbling in his pocket for cigarettes. “Get out.” 

“Cool.” Rindou says, flashing his palms and walking out of the room. Sanzu waits until the door closes to giggle. 

“He’s wrong,” Sanzu laughs, “You can fuck her whenever.” Mikey shakes his head. 

“I can’t.” 

“Why?” Sanzu shrugs. “It’s good pussy for sure.” Mikey sighs. 

“I want her to want it.” He rubs his eyes, “It’s fucking me in the head, I want her to want it so fucking bad.” Sanzu shrugs before leaning forward and doing a line.

“When I want something,” he says, panting, wiping his nose. “I just take it, you know?” 

“I know.” Mikey repeats for a third time, and Sanzu keeps talking but Mikey’s mind is gone, reaching within his ribcage for the last soft parts of himself, trying to remember what he’d been like when he’d been able to make girls like you blush and giggle, and not cower in fear. 

“I mean,” Sanzu says. “You could just kill Haitani.” There’s a pause. Mikey’s back is to Sanzu, facing the city, glimmering in the darkness. 

“No,” Mikey sighs. “No I couldn’t.” 

___

You and Ran are in the car, speeding across the city when his phone rings. The screen’s still shattered, it matches Rindou’s now, but when his brother’s face flashes across the screen he picks up. 

“Hey, dummy.” Ran says, slipping an arm around your waist. “Someone else get shot?” Rindou shakes his head, alone in his office with the door closed.

“Does it ever bother you?” Rindou asks, watching his brother take a puff on his juul. “Taking orders from Mikey?” Ran doesn’t miss a beat. 

“Not at all.” He shrugs. “What’s up?”  

“I’m asking because I feel it sometimes,” Rindou stumbles his way through the sentence clumsily, “Feel like that instinctual fuck you, who the fuck are you to tell me what to do? I mean, we used to run shit, we didn’t take orders from anyone.” Ran shakes his head. 

“That’s cuck shit, anway.” He straightens his shoulders. “Listen, I already did what Mikey’s doing, we already did it. And we did it without guns, without a gang, without makin’ too many threats.” A ghoulish smile flickers on his face, you shiver next to him. “And it was work, it was hard, and I thought to myself, after all that shit with Izana, how can I hold onto the parts of this I like, and get rid of the shit I don’t. Now, I follow Mikey, he tells me what he wants me to do, but I get rich, I get high, and I get the girl.” He shrugs. “What’s to dislike?” 

“You think leadership is cuck shit?” Rindou practically sputters. Ran gives you a squeeze.

“All I know is I woke up in bed with a beautiful woman, spent the morning gettin’ high with her, and then fucked her brains out. Mikey hasn’t gone to bed since last night at least, maybe longer,” Ran glances out the window at the snowy city. “And he started his day at his desk, worried about a dead body in a warehouse. There’s nothin’ there for me, or you, to be jealous of.” In his office, Rindou rakes his fingers through his hair.

“You’re so fucking confusing sometimes.” Rindou mutters, shaking his head and Ran laughs lightly. 

“Listen,” he says, “Kakucho said this shit to me once, that the only things in life that matter are the things that bring you happiness. I like the girl, so I’m keeping the girl.” A small spark burns in your chest as he speaks.  “I like Mcallan 25 so I drink Mcallan 25. I like my  Bentley, I like my penthouse, I like workin’ hard but not too hard. Youover complicate things,” he wrinkles his nose at the very idea of it. “You,” he says, “Get stuck between duty, and happiness, and expectation, which, is a fuckin’ minefield considering our line of work.”  Ran shrugs. “Me, I just go with the flow.” The car slows to a stop. “I gotta go have dinner with a beautiful woman and talk a bit about drugs over the best bolognese in the city. Try not to get your panties in an existential twist, maybe try finding some of that bratty pussy you like so much.” 

“Ugh.” Rindou groans. “Call me when you’re done.” 

“I won’t.” Ran grins, reaching for the door. “But you can call me. You can always call me.” Years flash in Rindou’s eyes, Izana, Juvie, their last halcyon days in Roppongi. 

“I know.” Rindou says. “I know I can.” 

Wow this was so so amazing 😫😫😫😫 i loved the parallel (?) of tae loving and wanting his cat and kook feeling that same exact way towards yn !!

Blessings

Ship: Yandere! Single Father! Jungkook x Reader

TW: obsessive behaviour, jk manipulates his son into believing reader is his mother :(, yandere behaviour, obsession, manipulative behaviour, manipulation, crying tae, extremely unhealthy relationships, terrible parenting, guilt tripping.

Based off this request: May I ask a Y!JK x reader where they are Cheetah hybrids and he’s a CEO but also a single father that is obsessed with reader but she always ignore him but then he kidnap her and makes his son believes that she’s his mother so she can’t leaves them cause she would feel guilty to break the child’s happiness? / from anon

A/N: hello everyone!! first thing, thank you so so much for all your support on the teaser? i can only hope this lives up to your excitement :) this isn’t a hybrid au, although the request asked for it. and also, happy holidays!! please remember to stay safe, stay hydrated, eat well, rest well, and remember that you are always loved <3

Word Count: 6.646k words :p

Taglist: @ephemerealkalon @kirbykook​ @snowyydayys​ @lovelyseomin​ @gucieguciekook​​ @kpopgirlbtssvt​​ @neoyugy​​ @opaljm​​ @saxpam24​ @born-slayer @anjcrbnll​ @infirebaby  @starscloser​ @ungodlyjoon​

ask y! single dad! jk or kid! tae anything! 

ask my other characters anything! 

| you’re the perfect person to complete their family |

“Daddy,”  a soft little voice floats from below, “look at my painting?”

Keep reading

TANGLED IN YOUR TRANCE • part one

𖤐 MASTERLIST 𖤐

Warnings: mentions of divorce, reader’s clothing described, use of “big brother” and “little sister”, little to no suggestion because we are not there yet

Word Count: 1.5k

Note: pink dividers by @/adornedwithlight! chapters will be longer after this one. Consider this a little introduction. Also, I’ve been asked to start a taglist, so let me know if you want in on that <3

You’re seventeen when your parents get divorced and eighteen when they remarry within two months of each other. Your dad bags a lady who’s closer to your age than his, and your mother finds herself a man who loves living in luxury as well as in debt from his uncontrollable gambling addiction.

It causes your relationships with your parents—all four of them now—to grow tense, causes you to slam doors and spit curses and cover your ears with expensive headphones (courtesy of the stepfather trying to win your affections).

The only, only good thing about your dysfunctional family dynamic is your new step brother, Toma, who you don’t actually see very much, but whatever. You’d been an only child your entire life, lived with a very specific type of loneliness that is impossible to describe, and now suddenly you have an older brother. It’s weird, but there’s an unspoken solidarity between the two of you right off the bat. The marriage between your mom and his dad is absolutely fucked from the start; you know it, and Toma knows it. Just like you both know you’ll be the ones that’ll have to deal with the inevitable fallout.

Every week you pick who you want to stay with, the lesser of 2 evils entirely based on your mood. Do you stay with your father and his irritating wife who only knows how to bond through mani-pedis? Or do you brave the big house full of fake smiles, embellished anecdotes, and late night arguments that echo through the halls?

Usually, it’s the latter that wins out. At least you can seclude yourself in your room there and no one will pester you to go shopping or get your hair done. (The new wife means well, you know deep down. She’s just so fucking annoying.)

Staying with your mom and stepdad also gives you the chance to maybe see Toma if he’s not on tour, at practice, or giving guitar lessons at the nearby music store.

He’s kind of intense, deep frown permanently etched onto his face, popping pills like candy. Usually dressed in perfectly tattered T-shirts and leather pants, his hair is bleached and spiked, one of his eyebrows is pierced—looks like he plays guitar in a metal band.

Which he does.

He isn’t your best friend. You’d barely call him an acquaintance. But every once in a while, you find yourself alone with him in the kitchen or the den. He asks simple questions to make shitty small talk, but it eventually leads you to ask about his band, which always ends in the two of you sharing opinions on music, newly dropped albums, etc.

It’s about the closest you ever get to bonding those first couple years, but it’s good enough for you, makes you feel like you’re not totally alone in the household.

The first time you find a burnt CD on your nightstand happens the same night that Toma sticks up for you at the dinner table. He’s been off tour for a couple weeks, and despite still not knowing him super well, you can tell that the stagnancy is making him cagey.

So, when your stepdad makes an offhand comment about your aesthetic—the skirts and fishnets and combat boots, it doesn’t go over well.

“All that black isn’t exactly inviting, sweetheart. You won’t find a man leaving the house looking like you’re ready to beat someone up.”

You’re used to it by now, spent most of your adolescence listening to your mom and dad bitching about the hair you let cover your face and the gory graphics on your T-shirts. This isn’t anything new to you.

However…

“Why the hell would you even say something like that?” Toma gruffs, fork gripped just a little too tightly in his hand. “The way she dresses ain’t got nothin’ to do with you, so shut your trap about it.”

“Toma—” your stepdad tries to defend.

“No. And why are you so concerned about her looking inviting? What the fuck does that even mean? You tryin’ to marry her off or somethin’?”

All your stepdad can do is get red in the face and grumble an apology, obviously out of his depth.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Keep your shit opinions to yourself, old man.”

You flash Toma a weak but grateful smile, nods in return, and that’s that.

It’s only when you’re winding down for the night that you spot it, the clear case and the bright blue disc within. His handwriting is surprisingly legible, all caps spelling out PLAYLIST #1 followed by each track in smaller print.

You’re only a little nervous when you knock on Toma’s bedroom door. You’ve never been inside before, all the way at the end of the hallway with the door perpetually shut. Your step brother doesn’t intimidate you, exactly, you just don’t have the best read on him yet.

When Toma opens the door, he’s the most dressed down you’ve ever seen him, wearing a t-shirt full of holes and a pair of black sweatpants. His hair is down and damp, barefoot as he steps to the side, and the chain he never seems to take off is missing from around his neck.

It’s strange seeing him like this: no tough guy exterior, just a dude in his early twenties living with his parents.

That’s not to say you look like you’re ready to hit the town. Sporting an oversized Hello Kitty shirt and little pajama shorts, you were ready to crawl into bed before you found the CD. The difference here is that while you’re taken off guard by Toma’s relaxed appearance, he doesn’t even seem to notice yours. And why would he?

You hold up the disc with a raised eyebrow, “a gift?”

Toma shrugs, lifting his arm high enough to let you walk under it and into his room, shutting the door behind you. Around any other guy, an action like that would have made your stomach flip in anticipation, but not this time. Definitely not this time.

“A few of ‘em are from bands we’ve toured with, but most of it is just shit I’m into that I think you might like.”

All you can reply with is a lame, “cool, cool,” too distracted with glancing around his room.

“I’m guessin’ you haven’t listened to it yet?”

You shake your head, eyes landing back on him as he sits at an old desk, a guitar laid out in front of him. From the looks of it, he’s restringing it.

“Not yet. Saw it and just… came to say thanks, I guess.”

He nods toward the stereo system up against one of the walls and tells you, “pop it in, then. I can give you my, uh, expert commentary.”

“Wow, lucky me,” you joke, ejecting the disc that’s already in the player to replace it with yours. You hope your dry tone is enough to cover up the buzz of excitement you feel at the prospect of getting to know him a little better.

For the next hour, you halfway listen to the tracks, more interested in what Toma has to say about each of them. Some of his ‘commentary’ is about the musicality of each song, but he also tells you about how he stumbled upon the the more underground bands and what it was like to play with the ones he toured with.

You use this as an opportunity to explore his space, or the space he allows you to see. You’re not snooping in his closet or anything, but you aren’t subtle as you look over the bulletin board full of tickets and peruse his little bookshelf–music theory, some biographies, a couple of psychology books (one about gambling).

When you pick up a model motorcycle from a shelf, Toma snorts, mutters, “you really are a little sister, aren’t ya’?”

“Huh?” you put the little bike down and turn to him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean rifling through my shit is a little sister thing to do.”

“I’m not rifling through anything,” you tell him, sucking your teeth, “–rifling would be if I was, like, going through drawers or something. I am simply… cataloging.”

He snickers, shrugging broad shoulders, and for some reason you feel the need to add, “I’m not actually that much younger, ya’ know.”

“Three years.”

“Two and a half,” you immediately correct, which, granted, is a little childish, but you can’t help yourself. The last thing you want is for Toma to see you as a baby as someone he has nothing in common with, someone he’d be embarrassed to introduce his friends to.

“Fine,” he concedes, a little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “two and a half.”

You shouldn’t care what he thinks or how he perceives you. It doesn’t matter. He only just recently entered your life—a new, hastily written chapter in an eighteen-year-long story.

There’s a part of you, though, bigger than you’d like to admit, that desperately wants him to like you, to approve of you–just a little sister’s desire to be loved by her big brother.

𖤐 NEXT 𖤐

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. 

Humbug

Bangtan Christmas 2023 drabble 1 - read the rest here.

Paediatrician Dr Jung Hoseok is beloved by all his patients and everyone he works with. Unfortunately, his cheerful demeanour is only a front, underneath it all, he's a humbug.

Pairing: Hoseok x f! reader

Genre: Paediatrician Hoseok, social worker reader, fluff, smut

Rating: 18+

Word count: 6k

Warnings: Sex, swearing, medical emergencies

Hoseok looks up from the computer screen at the sound of his name. His eyes take a moment to adjust, the screen’s the brightest light in the otherwise darkened paediatric ward.

The nurse, Jihyo, holds out a mug of coffee, just how he likes it. 

Hoseok accepts gratefully, stares at the words on the side of the mug.

Big patience for little patients.

He blinks, indifferent, and goes back to prescribing.

His phone rings, muted because it’s 3am but he can hear it loud and clear.

He lifts it to his ear. ‘Dr Jung,’ he says by way of greeting.

‘You’re needed in the ER,’ comes the crisp tone of the ER charge nurse.

Hoseok sighs, doesn’t bother to ask why. ‘I’ll be there in 5.’

He hangs up, signs the chart and gulps the rest of his coffee, scorching his tongue and the roof of his mouth but preferring the burn to the desolate pang of his empty stomach.

The dry sandwich he’d bolted at 6pm the day before is nothing but a distant memory, churning its partially digested way through his intestines.

He takes a shortcut to the ER, cutting through the works alley between buildings.

Ironic that he has to pass the unofficial smoker’s alley to get fresh air.

Kim Namjoon, his friend and the resident cardiothoracics surgeon, nods and waves a vape pen at him in greeting. 

Hoseok lifts a hand back, pushes the back entrance door open that someone’s propped open with a brick, hospital security be damned, re-enters the hospital next to the mortuary.

He glances askance at the double doors. It always makes him feel a little twitchy passing the morgue in the early hours of the morning.

He reminds himself he’s a grown adult as he picks up the pace, allows himself a little sigh of relief as he turns the corner and sees the bright lights of radiology.

He’s greeted by a cacophony of noises as he enters the ER, monitors beeping, people barking out instructions, distant sirens as ambulances pull up to the drop off.

He narrows his eyes against the fluorescent white strip lighting, looking around for the charge nurse’s familiar navy tunic. 

He spots her by the resus bay, grimaces a bit at the carnage from a trauma that hasn’t been cleaned up.

‘Called for a paediatric consult?’ 

The charge nurse nods, brisk, waves an arm in the vague direction of the paediatric area. 

‘15 year old, intoxicated.’

With that she’s off, and Hoseok trudges away. 

The atmosphere in the paediatric area is less jarring, not so much because of the cheerful murals on the walls, but because it’s quieter, less hectic.

Hoseok assesses a teenager in a glittery jumpsuit who smells so strongly of alcohol and hairspray he reminds him of his own high school leaving prom.

He does an assessment, makes the mistake of asking the teen if he wants a drink on his way out of the exam room.

The teen chortles gleefully. 

‘Yeah, gin and tonic, hold the tonic!’

Hoseok rolls his eyes as he exits.

He’s looking for a free computer to write up his notes when there’s movement in the periphery of his vision. 

‘Need a computer?’ you ask. 

Hoseok blinks to wake himself up. You’re way too pretty considering the early hour. Judging by your attire, more casual than smart, your carelessly styled hair, he makes an educated guess. 

‘Are you with social services?’ 

‘Y/N, duty social worker,’ you confirm, nodding towards the exam room he’s just exited. ‘Jaebeom’s one of ours.’ 

‘Yeah?’ Hoseok asks. ‘I’m Hoseok, paediatrics. I’m admitting him until he sobers up.’ 

You nod. ‘His foster carer can pick him up in the morning, she’s got another child that she needs to drop off at school.’ 

You look around, yawning delicately behind your hand. ‘Is there a place to get coffee around here at this time?’ 

There’s an on-call room waiting for him, a bed, but Hoseok doesn’t hesitate. 

‘If you have five minutes for me to write up my notes, I can take you to the lounge?’ 

You give him a look he doesn’t bother to interpret, it’s now 4am and if you say no he can always go to bed. 

‘Yeah,’ you say. ‘Thanks.’ 

Hoseok types up his notes with you sitting in one of the empty chairs in the otherwise deserted paediatric department. 

When he logs off he’s amused to find you engrossed in sorting shapes to slot into a sphere. 

‘I can give you a few more minutes if you want,’ he says, dry. 

You laugh. ‘I’ll be quicker once I’ve had caffeine.’ 

You follow him down the corridor towards the main hospital to the lounge. 

Hoseok swipes his ID badge, pushes the door open. 

You take in the ancient mismatched couches, the big screen TV, the tiny kitchenette with the top-of-the-line coffee machine, the chipped mugs drying next to the sink.

‘So this is how doctors roll, huh?’ you say. 

Hoseok laughs. ‘Yeah baby, stick with me and I’ll show you a good time.’ 

He waggles his eyebrows, and you burst out laughing. 

Hoseok’s struck by your smile and the way your eyes light up. He clears his throat, tells himself to stop staring at you like a creep. 

‘Latte?’ he offers, picking up the nicest mug he can see. 

‘Yeah, thanks,’ you say. 

You’re fishing in your bag, emerging with a half-opened package of cookies. 

He exchanges your coffee for a cookie, gestures to one of the couches. 

He’s not expecting you to sit next to him, there’s plenty of space, but after a moment, you choose the seat beside him. 

You sip your coffees in silence. 

‘Been busy?’ you ask. 

‘Yeah, a little,’ Hoseok replies. 

Up close like this, he can see the tiny piercings in your ear, the gleam of gold through the fall of your hair. 

Again, he pulls himself together with effort. 

‘Have you been busy?’ he asks. 

You stretch a little. ‘Yeah. We’re short-staffed, like always. Also something about the cold weather makes people be shits to each other.’

Hoseok’s not surprised. Winter’s always hard, fuck Christmas spirit and all that jazz.

‘I hear you,’ he says. 

You sip your coffee, offer him another cookie which he accepts. 

Your phone rings in your bag, you glance at him as you fish your phone out. 

‘Duty calls,’ you say ruefully. ‘Thanks for the coffee.’ 

Hoseok’s about to bid you goodbye when you lean towards him, close, thumb brushing a corner of his mouth so quickly he barely registers it before you’re pulling your hand away. 

‘Crumbs,’ you say. There’s the tiniest twinkle in your eye.

Hoseok’s voice comes out raspy as he says, ‘Thanks.’ 

‘See you around, doc.’ 

You’re not waiting for an answer, shouldering your bag, tossing him one last look on your way out. 

Hoseok leans back against the couch, willing his heartrate to decelerate. 

Outside, the darkest part of the night’s just about over. 

***

Hoseok’s working hard to keep his bright smile on today. 

He’s had a parent ask him if he has kids and then tell him he couldn’t possibly understand how precious their child is, as he doesn’t have children of his own. 

He got an email from a conference he’s applied to saying due to the huge number of applicants, his abstract wasn’t selected for presentation. 

His intern, Hyunjin, seems to be on a mission to aggravate him as much as possible. 

‘We need a derm consult,’ Hyunjin tells him at the end of presenting the patient he’s just seen. 

Hoseok closes his eyes briefly, desperately summoning what remains of his rapidly dwindling stores of patience. 

‘Why do we need a derm consult, Dr Park?’ he tries not to bark. 

‘This patient has verrucas.’ 

Hoseok blinks, takes a breath. 

‘This patient needs nebulised albuterol and oxygen and an admission to paediatrics. The verrucas can wait until he gets better and the mom can stop by a pharmacy for some over-the-counter verruca treatment.’ 

Hyunjin stares at him. 

‘He’s satting in the low nineties,’ Hoseok points out, words coming out brisk, staccato. ‘I can hear him wheezing from here.’ 

The ER nurse behind Hyunjin’s already tutting and prepping the neb. 

‘Was there anything else, Hyunjin?’ Hoseok asks, getting up, staring at the rapidly expanding list of patients waiting for a paediatric consult.

His phone rings, and he pulls it out of his pocket with a sigh. 

‘Dr Jung,’ he says. 

‘Is that Hoseok?’ 

The voice is vaguely familiar, but he can’t place it. 

‘Depends who’s asking,’ he snaps. 

‘It’s Y/N, the social worker. You got me coffee last week at 4am?’ 

Hoseok has a flash of a memory, of your hand on his face. 

‘Shit, sorry,’ he says, running a hand through his hair, already sticking straight up in all directions, courtesy of the shitty haircut he got in the barbershop on his way in. 

‘Rough day, huh?’ you say, the sympathy in your voice making warmth bloom in his chest. 

‘Yeah.’ 

‘I was wondering if you wanted to go to dinner after work today,’ you ask, no preamble, so direct Hoseok takes a moment to process. 

‘I’d love to,’ he says. ‘I don’t get off until 8, though.’ 

‘I finish at 8 too,’ you say. ‘That works for me.’ 

You exchange numbers, and you promise to text him details. 

‘Hope your day gets better, Dr Jung,’ you say, the teasing note in your voice making him smile, genuinely, for the first time, today. 

‘It already is,’ he says. 

He’s still smiling when he hangs up. 

‘Hoseok,’ comes a voice from behind him. 

Hoseok raises a brow inquiringly at Hyunjin, who, inexplicably, is still standing there. 

‘About the verrucas,’ begins Hyunjin. 

‘Nope,’ Hoseok says, pleasantly, still smiling. 

He brushes past Hyunjin and picks up the next consult. 

***

It’s ten to eight and thank fuck for that, because Hoseok’s had enough of today. 

He’s getting changed out of the scrubs he was forced to change into after he was projectile vomited on by a chubby 10 month old, grateful he has spare clothes in his locker, when the door to the changing rooms opens. 

Hoseok pauses, shirtless, hands on the tie of his scrubs bottoms. 

Hyunjin blinks at him. 

‘Nice abs, boss,’ he says. 

Hoseok eyes both the fluffy white tee he was about to change into and the scrubs top he’s just discarded, questioning why he ever thought going into medicine was a good idea. 

He grits his teeth. 

‘Yes, Hyunjin?’ 

‘There’s a blue light call - breathless five year old, ETA 3 minutes.’ 

‘Jisoo is on tonight, let her know,’ Hoseok replies. ‘Also, close the door, damnit.’ 

Hyunjin looks surprised at the three medical students who have clustered behind him, all of whom are staring at Hoseok wide-eyed. 

‘Jisoo’s going to be twenty minutes late, something about a train breakdown?’

Hyunjin’s got the wisdom to stay out of Hoseok’s reach. 

Hoseok’s hand lands on his soft t-shirt, longingly. 

With a sigh, he bypasses it and reaches for his scrubs top, pulling it over his head. 

‘I’ll be right there,’ he says. 

***

By the time Hoseok’s assessed the breathless patient and handed over to an apologetic Jisoo, the time on the clock on the wall says 9pm. 

Hoseok pulls his phone out, dials your number. 

You answer on the first ring. 

Without waiting for him to say anything, you say, ‘The food’s still hot, I took the liberty of ordering for you. Are you on your way?’ 

Hoseok breathes out, a sigh of relief so profound he feels lightheaded. 

‘Marry me,’ he says. ‘I’ll be there in ten.’ 

He gets dressed in record time, emerges out of the carnage of the ER like a phoenix rising from the ashes. 

You’re the first person he sees when he gets to the restaurant, and you’re the best thing he’s seen all day. 

He greets you with a hug and a cheek kiss that you weren’t expecting, judging by the shy smile on your pretty face. 

‘I —’ you start, then you stop, adorably flustered. 

‘You’re beautiful,’ Hoseok says. ‘I’ve been looking forward to this all day.’ 

‘I was just going to say I ordered tempura that’s on its way,’ you say. 

‘I’m sorry I’m so late,’ Hoseok says. He’s got his hand on yours on the table without any memory of how it got there, but he likes the feel of it. 

‘Make it up to me,’ you say, easy. 

‘I’m going to do my best,’ he promises. 

***

At least four people have seen Hoseok’s bare chest today, but you’re the only person he cares about impressing, at least right at this moment. 

Because holy fuck, you’re beautiful, pressed tight to him on your poky couch, mouth on his, lips and teeth clashing as he kisses you over and over. 

You’re making noises that are driving him slightly crazy, making him feel hot and desperate, and he has to stop himself from looking at your tits in that black bra or he’s going to embarrass himself. 

Shit. 

Your hand’s slid down, brushing over his dick, and he’s so hard already he has to will himself not to nut right now. 

He tugs experimentally at the strap of your bra, and when you don’t protest he tugs it down, cups the weight of your left breast. 

God, you feel so good. Soft, warm, exposed nipple begging to be kissed. 

He runs his thumb over your areola, a slow pass. 

The low moan you let out gives him the confidence to scrape the tip of his nail over the peak of your breast. 

‘God, take it off, Hoseok,’ you tell him, and Hoseok’s sure as hell not going to make you ask twice. 

He slides a hand around your bare back, unhooks your bra, can’t stop himself from looking. 

His dick, already trying to stand at attention in its denim prison, twitches at the sight of your bared breasts. 

Hoseok’s trying to remember what colour briefs he has on, if it’ll be obvious when he takes his jeans off that he’s leaking precum just from looking at your tits. 

Then you cup the length of him over his jeans, and he finds he doesn’t give a fuck. 

Your skirt’s ridden up, your thighs part under his hand encouragingly. 

You’re so soft Hoseok can’t suppress a groan. 

He hooks a couple fingers under the gusset of your panties, tugs, and your hand lands on his. 

Hoseok looks up, hand stilling. 

Hoseok’s been told that he has a gorgeous smile, but just at this moment, you’re the one who’s blinding him. 

‘You can touch,’ you say, voice husky, teeth in your bottom lip. 

‘Yeah?’ Hoseok asks, his own voice raspy, dropped low. 

‘Yeah.’ 

‘Can I taste?’ 

You help him tug your panties down, over the curve of your ass that he can’t resist squeezing. 

He tugs the flimsy cotton down your thighs, helps you slide a leg out. 

He realises, belatedly, that you never answered his question, but you don’t seem to mind as he bends down, flicks his tongue against your pretty cunt. 

Damn, you sound even prettier when he’s eating you out. 

Hoseok licks into your folds, nudges your clit. 

He doesn’t have any hangups about giving head, especially not in a girl like you who seems to enjoy everything he’s doing. 

‘Shit, Hoseok,’ you moan, breathless, eyes squeezed shut. 

He pushes a finger into you, curls it, and you cry out so loudly his cock hardens even more. 

He tugs at the button fly of his jeans, loosening them for a little relief. 

‘Please tell me you have a condom,’ you plead, voice thick, so sexy Hoseok can’t believe you’re under him like this. 

‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘Why don’t you come and I’ll fuck you?’ 

‘Fuck me now,’ you tell him. 

Hoseok seals his lips around your clit, flicks his tongue, slips another finger into you, scissoring, pressing, slow, making every movement count. 

‘Hoseok!’ 

He doesn’t reply, because he can tell by the way your thighs are shaking that you’re close. 

He just needs another minute. 

He doesn’t know if you’ve realised that your fingers are in his hair, pulling, but he’s taking it as a positive. 

He keeps doing what he’s doing with his tongue, because you seem to like it. 

Your cunt tightens around his fingers, you call his name again, buck your hips into his face, and Hoseok doesn’t even need you to tell him you’re coming because he can feel you pulsing, can hear it in your voice, can feel the way everything tightens as you reach your peak. 

It’s the hottest thing he’s seen in a while. 

Fuck. 

Hoseok draws himself out of jeans, takes himself in hand, pumps once. 

You haven’t forgotten him. 

‘Get inside, Hoseok,’ you say, and as he fishes the condom out of his jeans you flip it out of his grasp and rip it with your teeth. 

Hoseok closes his eyes as you squeeze the tip and roll it onto his dick, concentrating on not coming in your grasp. 

You push him back onto the couch, get on top of him, and Hoseok could weep at the view. 

Your hair’s a mess, your lips bitten and flushed, and goddamn, your tits need to be in a museum. 

He doesn’t realise he’s said that last bit out loud until you burst out laughing. 

‘Shut up, Hoseok,’ you tell him, but you’re still riding him so there’s that. 

Hoseok grabs your hips, helps you move even though you’re doing a pretty damn good job already. 

‘You like this, Hoseok?’ you ask. 

Hoseok flexes his cock inside you. ‘Yeah,’ he says. 

‘I like it too.’ 

‘Yeah?’ 

You lean forward, tits bouncing in front of his face, and Hoseok thinks that if he died right now, smothered in between your breasts, he wouldn’t mind one bit. 

‘Go on, baby, take what you want,’ you say. 

Hoseok bucks his hips hard, up into the wet warmth of your cunt, tugs your head down to kiss you deep, open-mouthed, and comes with a groan, deep in his chest. 

Bliss. 

***

Hoseok wakes in a bed he doesn’t remember getting into, a bedroom that he finds soothing, with its neutral colours and soft sunlight filtering in the crack between the curtains.

There’s an arm flung across his chest, the soft curve of a breast against his chest. 

You’re turned away, boneless, in a deep sleep. 

His incorrigible cock stirs as he takes in the line of your back, down to the tempting curve of your ass. 

He spots the clock on the wall, groans when he realises he should really be up now if he wants to get to work on time. 

You’re still dead asleep even after he’s fully dressed, splayed out in the sheets, gloriously naked.

Hoseok pulls the duvet over your bare shoulder, resists the urge to kiss your upturned cheek, and makes sure the door’s locked behind him as he leaves.

***

Hoseok tightens his scarf around his neck as he waits for you at the entrance to the Christmas market you’ve managed to convince him to accompany you to.

The fact is, he hates the cold, he thinks all Christmas markets are gimmicky and overpriced, and after a run of incredibly busy shifts, he’d much rather be in bed with you right now than here.

Hoseok sidesteps neatly as he’s approached by a jovial couple dressed as Father Christmas and Mrs Klaus.

He’s about to pull his phone out to check on you when you hurry up to him, tuck your arm in his.

‘Hobi! You weren’t waiting long, were you?’

Hoseok looks at your bright smile and can’t bring himself to say anything other than ‘no, not long.’

Your lips are cold, but the kiss you plant on his cheek, next to his mouth, goes a long way towards improving his mood.

He doesn’t even give the three elves handing out tiny candy canes a dirty look.

‘Crepes?’ you suggest, seemingly oblivious to the fact that the longest queue is in front of the crepe stand.

‘Sure,’ Hoseok agrees.

You get in line and immediately turn to him, sliding your arms around his waist, under his coat.

‘How’ve you been?’ you ask.

Hoseok and you have met up a couple times over the last three weeks, enough that he’s left a spare shirt and some toiletries at your place.

You’re sweet, and fun, and he hopes you like him as much as he’s starting to like you. 

‘I’m better now,’ he says, just so he can admire the glow of your smile. 

‘You’re cheesy,’ you say, but the brightness in your eyes tells him you don’t mind. 

‘Nah,’ Hoseok replies. ‘You dragged us to this Christmas market, I know you’ve got your eye on one of those tacky reindeer tree ornaments, you don’t get to call me cheesy.’ 

‘I like the blue one,’ you say, conceding so easily Hoseok has to smile. 

‘Wait here, I’ll go and get it,’ he says. 

‘What crepe do you want?’ you ask, as he pulls away. 

‘Surprise me,’ he tells you. 

Hoseok walks over to the ornament stall you’ve been eyeing for the past five minutes, picks out the blue ornament, hesitates over the collection of tiny gold Christmas bauble earrings. 

He makes a decision, pays, shoves his purchases into his coat pocket and walks back to you. 

You hold a crepe out to him, and he accepts with a ‘thanks’, taking the warm paper-wrapped bundle out of your hand and taking a bite. 

The warm melted chocolate floods his taste buds, and he tries not to moan at the gooey sweetness of it. 

‘Good, right?’ you ask. ‘Worth the wait.’ 

You’re not waiting for an answer, skipping ahead, heading for the chestnuts and hot chocolate like you’re a walking Christmas cliche. 

Hoseok follows behind you. He finds he doesn’t really mind. 

***

You stick your key in the lock, unlock the door to your apartment, don’t bother with the lights before you turn around and slide your hands up Hoseok’s chest, fingers tucked under the lapels of his coat. 

Hoseok doesn’t have a lot to say, not when you’re looking up at him, lips pouted for a kiss. 

He slips a hand around the back of your neck, cupping your head, and tilts his head down to yours. 

‘Mmmm,’ you murmur. ‘You taste like chocolate.’ 

Hoseok leans down again, kisses you deep, tongue sliding into your mouth. 

‘It’s cold,’ he says. ‘Warm me up.’ 

He’s only half-serious, having you pressed against him like this is doing a hell of a job of warming him up. 

The wicked gleam in your eye gets him the rest of the way. 

‘Come on. Want to take a bath?’ you ask. 

Hoseok makes out with you in front of the mirror in your bathroom whilst the tub fills, is a short second away from guiding his cock between your legs when you pull away, bend over in front of him to test the temperature.

‘Get in,’ you say, and Hoseok’s always been good at following instructions. 

He slides into the warm heat of the bath, groans at the feel of it, reaches out to steady you as you climb in on top of him, right into his lap, impatient like he feels. 

You look so good bare and wet like this, the steam making tendrils of your hair curl against your neck, the tops of your breasts visible above the water line. Hoseok hadn’t thought he could get any harder but he does. 

‘Sit on me,’ he says, and there’s a slosh of water, wet skin against wet skin, and then the slippery warmth of your cunt, taking him in. 

The tips of your breasts jiggle in front of him as you move, and between the tightness of your walls around him and the prettiness of your moans, Hoseok’s in heaven. 

He slips a hand around your hips, helping you ride him, and curls his hand around your breast, lifting it out of the water so he can suck. 

You cry his name as he flicks his tongue over your nipple, and Hoseok squeezes the flesh of your hip, tight, under the water. 

Your rhythm’s erratic but it’s making the pleasure build, short, tight circles of your hips against his. 

‘Hoseok,’ you moan. 

‘Yeah?’ he mumbles, lips around the peak of your breast. 

He flexes his cock inside you, hums in satisfaction at the way your face goes slack, eyes half closed. 

Shit, you look so pretty in the throes of pleasure. 

Hoseok slides a hand up, fingers curling around your neck, thumb pressed into the hollow between your collarbones. 

Your voice is hoarse now, raspy like his, as he urges, ‘Go on, take it.’ 

He presses down, you gasp, and lose your rhythm entirely as you come around his cock, walls spasming around him. 

Hoseok takes over, fucking you through it, hardening until he comes with a low grunt. 

Wet, slick, warm. 

You’re tired, he can tell, the way you’re slumping against his chest. 

‘Come on,’ he says. ‘I’ll wash us off.’ 

He coaxes you into your shower with him, soaps over the marks he’s made on your skin, wraps you into a towel. 

By the time you’re both in bed, you’re more asleep than awake. 

‘Work tomorrow?’ you ask. 

‘I’m working,’ Hoseok tells you. ‘Want me to set an alarm for you?’ 

He doesn’t get an answer, you’re asleep on his chest already. 

He should get up, switch some lights off, but a moment later, he’s asleep too. 

***

Hoseok never thought he’d see the day he would want Hyunjin to be around, but he’s getting slammed, and the way things are looking, he needs all hands on deck. 

He’s jogging down the corridor to his second emergency call for the day despite it being only 10am. It’s busy even for the holidays. 

‘House fire,’ barks Mira, the ER charge nurse as Hoseok snaps on gloves. ‘Three children, five minutes out.’ 

‘How bad?’ asks Hoseok, prepping an IV access kit. 

‘PICU are aware, they’re sending backup when they can but they’ve got their own internal collapse, they’re dealing with an arrest on the neurosurgical ward,’ Mira replies. 

The doors slide open, and Hoseok can already tell from the looks on the paramedics’ faces that it’s not looking good. 

Fucking hell, where’s Hyunjin, what a day to be in resus training instead of on the floor. 

The second patient’s wheeled in as the first is still being parked, and Hoseok’s surprised to see you accompanying them, covered in soot, but he doesn’t have time to process now. 

All he can do is deal with what’s in front of him, so that’s what he does. 

***

It’s well into the afternoon by the time all three patients are stabilised and wheeled up to the PICU. 

Hoseok’s washing his hands mechanically in one of the resus sinks, buying his brain some time to come down from the adrenaline of the last few hours, when he hears his name called. 

‘Hey,’ you say, holding out a cup to him. 

Hoseok takes a big gulp of the steaming hot coffee. There’s sugar in it, he doesn’t usually have sugar in his coffee, but today it goes down smooth, giving him a much-needed glucose boost. 

He drinks most of it before he can muster a ‘Thanks.’ 

You don’t seem to be in a hurry. 

You’ve cleaned most of the soot off your face, but your top is ruined. 

Belatedly, Hoseok notices a plaster on your arm, remembers that you came in with the ambulance crew and the three kids. 

‘Are you ok?’ he asks. 

‘I’m fine,’ you say. ‘I was just outside the house when the gas oven imploded. I saw the kids in the window and got them out.’ 

Hoseok blinks. He hadn’t been expecting that. 

‘You ran into a burning house?’ 

You frown a bit. ‘It wasn’t burning then, there was just smoke everywhere.’ 

You cough, and he notices that your voice is a little hoarse. 

‘Besides, I was right there and I saw the kids, I couldn’t leave them.’ 

‘Shit,’ Hoseok says. He pulls you into a hug. ‘I didn’t know.’ 

‘Do you think they’re going to be ok?’ you ask, resting your head on his chest. 

‘I hope so,’ Hoseok says.

He pulls away. ‘Did they check your carbon monoxide levels?’ 

You laugh, and the tension in his chest eases a little. ‘Yes, doc, I’ve been cleared for discharge.’ 

You grab his hand, squeeze. ‘I’m probably doing better than you right now.’ 

‘This is why I hate Christmas,’ Hoseok blurts out. 

You’re looking at him, but you don’t say anything, and he can’t stop anyway.

‘Everyone goes on about Christmas and goodwill and people helping each other and yet the same shit happens as the rest of the year. It means nothing, just a commercial holiday that big companies use to make money out of dumb people.’ 

‘It’s bullshit,’ Hoseok says.

‘My parents feel the same as you,’ you say. You give him a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. ‘They never celebrated the holidays.’ 

‘They had the right idea,’ Hoseok agrees.

‘When do you get off today?’ you ask. ‘I can make us dinner, if you want.’ 

‘I don’t think I’ll be good company,’ Hoseok says, honestly. 

‘You’re welcome, even if you’re the biggest grinch in the world,’ you say, with a sweetness that makes warmth bloom in his chest. 

‘I’m not a grinch,’ he says, half-heartedly. 

‘A humbug, then,’ you say. 

You reach out and touch his cheek. 

‘Come over, later, if you want.’ 

***

Hoseok finds himself outside your apartment after his shift, wondering if you really wanted him to come over. 

You don’t keep him waiting long, soon enough you’re opening the door, handing him a glass of wine, putting food in front of him.

Hoseok hasn’t even so much as showered, he came straight from work.

You notice him looking at the half-decorated Christmas tree you’ve got in your lounge, the open box of ornaments next to it.

‘I like Christmas,’ you say. ‘I thought I’d cheer myself up by putting up a tree.’

You seem to be worried about his reaction, so Hoseok grasps your hand.

‘Just because I’m a grinch doesn’t mean you have to be,’ he says.

You smile. ‘My parents never had a tree and I always wanted one.’

The food and the wine are going a long way towards making Hoseok feel normal again after his day.

‘Are you going to see them for Christmas?’ he asks.

There’s a brief shadow across your face, so quick he isn’t sure if he saw it.

‘They’re doing relief work in South Sudan,’ you say. ‘They’re doctors too.’

You ask, ‘Are you away for Christmas?’

‘Yeah, my parents and sister are upstate. I’ll drive up to them.’

‘Are they grinches like you are?’ you ask, teasing.

Hoseok laughs. ‘I’m the only grinch in the family. My mother goes all out, and my sister loves Christmas too.’

‘Sounds amazing,’ you say, a hint of wistfulness in your tone.

Your top’s slipped down over your shoulder, and between the way your skin gleams and the way your lips are stained from the wine, you’re so pretty Hoseok’s distracted.

He reaches out, tugging you into his arms. 

‘Can I take a shower?’ he asks.

‘Sure,’ you say. The mischievous twinkle is back in your eyes now. ‘Want company?’

‘Always,’ Hoseok says.

***

For once, you’re up before him the next morning. 

He must have been more tired than he realised.

You’re fastening your bra in a feat of dexterity he’s always admired. 

‘Shame I missed the show,’ he says, his voice raspy in the darkness of your bedroom. 

‘Happens every morning,’ you say. ‘You’ve got an invite every time.’ 

Hoseok laughs, rolls over, sheet around his waist. 

‘What time is it?’ he asks, propping his arm behind his head, looking out the crack in the window as the snow falling outside. 

‘It’s 6am on Christmas eve,’ you tell him. 

‘Shit, I gotta pack for tonight,’ he says. 

You pull a sweater on over a tee, sit on the edge of the bed to put socks on. 

‘I probably won’t see you until after the holidays, huh?’ 

‘I’m back in a couple days,’ Hoseok says, hand on the small of your back where your sweater’s ridden up. 

‘Yeah. Merry Christmas, Hobi. Eat all the turkey for me.’ 

‘I don’t even like turkey,’ he says, honestly. 

You laugh, amused, and cup his cheek. ‘See you after Christmas, grinch. There’s coffee in the kitchen.’ 

Your goodbye kiss makes him want to pull you back into bed with him. 

***

Hoseok pulls up outside his parents’ house, rubs the back of his neck, trying to get the crick out. 

He can see the living room and kitchen lights are on, and he already knows that when he opens the front door and steps in he’ll be greeted with familiar smells. 

Cinnamon. Fresh bread. The chicken dish his eomma always makes the night before Christmas. 

He realises with a start that he never thought to ask you what you’d be doing for Christmas. 

He’d spent an hour finishing decorating your tree after you left your apartment, so that you’d have a fully-decked out tree when you came back from work today, and had only belatedly realised that perhaps you’d have had fun decorating the tree together. 

He’d put the earrings he got you under the tree, hung the gloriously tacky blue ornament he’d picked up for you at the Christmas market. 

He’d packed the red lace panties you’d tossed merrily in his face when you’d stripped for him the night before, in the shower. 

Shit, maybe that was a creep thing to do. 

Too late now. 

The front door opens, and his sister stands in the doorway. 

‘Come on, what’s taking you so long,’ she asks. 

‘Coming,’ Hoseok says. 

He grabs his bag out the trunk and goes inside. 

***

Hoseok wonders if he’s even in the right place. 

You’d once told him, offhand, that you often volunteer at the shelter close to your apartment on Christmas day, and when he’d gone to your apartment and you weren’t in, he’d driven here. 

It’s a women’s shelter, and he’s trying to make himself look as harmless as possible as he waits to be let in. 

A woman dressed in a light-up jumper opens the door, eyes him suspiciously. 

Hoseok has a sudden feeling that he’s made a terrible mistake. 

It’s too late now. 

‘I’m Hoseok, I’m a friend of Y/N’s. Is she here?’ he asks

To his relief, the woman’s face transforms into a smile, eyes crinkling at the corners. 

‘You’re the doctor friend she keeps telling us about! Come in, she’s here.’ 

The woman grasps him by the arm, pulls him in out of the snow. 

‘She’s helping in the kitchen, you can help too, if you want.’ 

‘Sure,’ Hoseok says. Her grip on his arm is strong, there’s no way he’s going to say no. 

He’s led to an industrial looking kitchen, dated but clean, greeted by the sounds of chatter and Christmas classics. 

There’s mess everywhere, like Santa exploded, but all that falls away when he sees you.

You look up, spot him, and the smile on your face makes him smile too. He probably looks like an idiot, here grinning at you, but he can’t find it in himself to care.

You get up, and then somehow you’re in his arms, the reindeer headband you have on poking him in the jaw but he’s still not bothered.

There’s heckling, teasing, whooping, but all he sees and hears is you.

‘What are you doing here?’ you ask, holding him so tightly he can barely breathe. 

He likes it.

‘I forgot to wish you Merry Christmas,’ he says.

‘Merry Christmas, humbug.’

Hoseok wants to argue that he’s not a humbug, not really, but you’re kissing him, so he shuts up and kisses you back instead. 

©hamsterclaw 2023

Just Friends!? - masterlist

-Art in the banner from nek0zuu_ on X-

Pairings- Former Nerd! Gojo and F! reader

Summary - Satoru Gojo was the biggest nerd EVER in high school with you, next door neighbors, study buddies, you were the best friends in the world. Never having the courage to ask you -the 'popular girl' out- you never knew he felt for you. He ended up leaving town, moving to the big city of LA- getting famous with a modeling career, and lost touch with everyone from his old life. While you're working the family pub to help out your parents, years later, he finally comes back to visit, just to have you making his drink. Everything about him is different, aside from those pretty blue eyes and the sweet grin. You feel he's so accomplished now, and you're just a small town girl, but little do you know, you've never left his mind.

CW- Will be explicit and smutty (it's me!?) based on the 2005 Rom com Just Friends - part of my amazinggg moot @indiewritesxoxo's Friday night flicks! 🌙 Nerdjo turned famous and cocky, but he's still just a Nerdjo deep down hehe- he'll have a whole retainer and he'll dance to boys to men a la the movieee

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four

Kofi link (if you feel generous & wanna buy me a ☕️