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It was hotter than Katsuki was used to. He'd lost count how many times he'd used his handkerchief to wipe his brow and the back of his neck. By now, it was nearly useless by how saturated the damned thing was.
Not for the first time, he wondered what possessed him to hitchhike all the way out to No Man’s Land—the Wild West. Then he'd remember the letter from his publisher, the empty papers, and the typewriter he carried in its case—the few possessions he’d brought with him—and curse every deity and man he knew for putting him in this situation. New York had hot summers but it wasn't nearly as scalding as the ones in the western states. At least by the Atlantic, the air was damp with humidity. Out west, it was just hot . No wind from the coast to help cool you down. Just dry heat.
Katsuki grumbled as he took a swig from his canteen. Since leaving New England, he learned very quickly to reserve how much water he drank. He never knew when the next rest stop with fresh water would be, so he conserved wisely. Movement in his peripheral caught his attention and he turned his head. “We're comin’ up to Crimson Falls,” the driver called out, whose name Katsuki had already forgotten. “Should be ‘bout anot'r hour.”
He nodded and the man closed the flap of the wagon before returning to whatever conversation he was having with his co-driver. Thank fuck, Katsuki groaned as he shifted his weight. My ass has been asleep for fuck knows how long now. As if to mock him, the wagon bumped a jutting rock and nearly threw Katsuki a foot into the air before landing harshly on his numbed behind. Fucker.
📖👢
Crimson Falls, at first glance, looked like every other western town Katsuki had visited so far. Wooden storefronts lining both sides of a flattened dirt street. Men conversing on horseback. Children playing in the alleyways and occasionally into the street. The difference this time around was the mountainous backdrop. There was slightly less greenery than he’d become accustomed to these past ten months or so, but more surprising was the attire of the women around town.
From what he’d seen, men and women alike typically dressed conservatively, refraining from showing too much skin. Here, some women wore trousers while others wore frilly skirts that hiked up to their knees. It was different—both the scenery and the townsfolk—which piqued Katsuki’s interest.
Maybe here he could finally find the inspiration to write his novel.
Baby steps though. First, he needed to find an inn. As it usually was, it took no time at all to find an inn and get settled into a room. He was impressed by how tidy it was. Even the furniture seemed well kept, including the writing desk next to the bed. Already a great sign.
After hiding his typewriter (he knew better than to leave it out for all to see in unknown territory) he took his notebook and pencil and headed into town. He took note of the different stores he saw—a bar, a candy shop, the general store—and drew a map. He came upon a building he assumed was a brothel based on the women on the porch steps and the moans coming from an open window. With a flush to his cheeks he quickly walked far from it. Across the street was the sheriff's office. Now there was somewhere he could find inspiration. With a sharp grin, he walked with vigor to the steps of the building and let himself in.
It looked like any standard sheriff's office. On the adjacent wall from where he entered was a wide desk. Past that was another door that likely held the prison, and parallel to it beside Katsuki was a large window looking out into the street. At the desk, with his boots against the mess of papers and slumped in a tiny wooden chair, was a tall tanned man. A dark leather cowboy hat sat on his head covering his face. A navy button down collared shirt strained against his arms, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The most notable garment was the bright red bandana tied around his neck.
By the heavy rise and fall of his crossed arms on his chest, it seemed he was asleep. And that just wouldn't do.
“Tch.” Katsuki purposefully slammed the door shut. He stomped loudly toward the unsuspecting man before stopping at his desk. He cleared his throat obnoxiously. “Oi.”
No response.
Katsuki kicked the desk. “Oi!”
The man grumbled and shifted in his chair, but otherwise didn't stir. Now Katsuki was getting annoyed. “Oi, good for nothing! I oughta write you up for sleeping on the job!”
Rather than get the reaction he expected, the man sighed deeply and said in a deep and raspy voice, “I heard ya when y’walked in, stranger. Ever heard of ‘let sleeping dogs lie'? There's a reason yer let a man have his rest.”
Before Katsuki could retaliate with a gut punching remark, the other man flicked the lip of his hat up lazily and set his garnet gaze on him. Immediately the words crumbled in his throat because goddamn if he wasn't one of the most intimidating people Katsuki had ever seen. It turned out not only was his bandana and eyes red, but his hair was, too. This man was a walking hazard from how handso— how annoying he looked.
So stuck in his own head, Katsuki missed the others' annoyed glare turn to interest as his gaze raked the others' form. The man grinned, revealing sharp teeth. “Well ain't you pretty.”
Katsuki bristled. “I beg your fucking pardon?”
The man whistled. “And a bite, too! Beautiful and venomous. Nearly makes up for the whole…” He gestured toward Katsuki. “…attitude.”
He took his feet down from the desk and stretched his arms upward, elongating his torso in the process. It made Katsuki realize that it wasn't the chair that was small, the sheriff was just that big . Clearing his throat the blond shook his head of his wandering thoughts.
“So. What can I do yer for?” The man sighed as he relaxed back into his chair. “Haven't seen you ‘round b'fore today. Prob’ly jus’ came in with them traders from Illinois, yeah?”
Katsuki lifted his upper lip in a snarl. “And?”
“And nothing, stranger. Jus’ making an observation. And conversation.” The man shrugged. “So what can I help ya with?”
Shifting his weight, the blond crossed his arms. “You been here a while?”
The man blinked and tilted his head curiously. “Born and raised, yessir.”
Born and raised? Well that’s new. Most of the people he spoke to moved out west in search of a new and better life. He hadn’t met someone who had been raised out here. This town continued to surprise him. “You’re going to tell me your best catches and I’m going to write it.”
The redhead stared at him incredulously before throwing his head back with a laugh. Katsuki felt his neck and cheeks heat and he glared at the man. “The hell you laughing for, shitty hair?!”
“Shitty hair!” The man cackled. “Y’can’t even see my hair! How would’ya know it’s shit?”
Before the blond could respond, the redhead was shooting him a wide and toothy smile. “Sure, I can share some stories with ya. I suppose yer some reporter type?”
Katsuki bristled. “The fuck?! No, I'm not some gossip brown-noser! I’m a goddamn novelist!”
“A writer, huh?” He rubbed his lower face. After a moment he tapped his chin. “Like one of them story folks?”
“What the fuck else could I possibly mean?” The blond was losing his patience. “If you’re going to waste my time, I’ll find someone else.”
The man raised a brow and exaggeratedly looked around the small office. “I don't see anyone else ‘round here. And you're the one who demanded an audience.”
“I didn't say shit!” Katsuki barked.
“Says the one who threatened to report me.”
The blond clicked his tongue and scowled. He was right, but Katsuki would be damned if he gave him any satisfaction. “What the fuck ever. You gonna tell me what I wanna know or not, sheriff?”
“Sheriff?” The redhead blinked owlishly, his expression puzzled.
For fuck’s sake, this man was testing Katsuki’s patience. “Yes. Sheriff. As in your goddamn job.”
The man blinked at him. Then threw his head back and laughed. Fucking belly laughed . The longer it went on the shorter the blond’s temper became. “Aw, man,” the man chuckled, wiping a tear from his eye. “Naw, I ain’t the sheriff.”
What.
“The hell you mean you're not the sheriff?!”
“Exactly that, blondie,” the man grinned. “I am the deputy though. Our town’s sheriff went out at dawn to capture some runaways but she should be back soon.”
She?
“Here, since you're new to town, I'll do ya the honor of giving ya’a tour.”
A retort came naturally to Katsuki that he didn't need a tour—he already gave himself one. Just as he parted his lips to say just that, the redhead stood from his chair and holy mother of sin the man was an entire head taller than him . And Katsuki was not a short man. Swallowing dryly he watched the deputy put on his leather vest and put his revolvers in the holsters by his hips. Satisfied, the man grinned and stood next to Katsuki. “Name’s deputy Eijirou Kirishima by the way.”
He felt his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed again and glared. “Katsuki. Bakugou.”
Eijirou's grin sharpened to a smirk. “A pretty name, too, huh? Well, c’mon! We’re burning daylight, and I'd reckon you'd like to survey the town ‘n all that. I can tell ya about a recent arrest along the way.”
Unsure what to make of the man, Katsuki followed Eijirou out and pretended his flush was from anger when he'd held the door open for him. Absolutely ridiculous behemoth of a man.
📖👢
For the rest of the afternoon, Eijirou showed him around Crimson Falls. Katsuki had explored most of the town prior, but the deputy relayed tidbits of information only a local would know.
“If you want a good meal, head to Fat Gums. The owner used t’be a big shot in th’ big city before settlin’ down. I still have no idear why he chose this dusty town, but I’m grateful!”
“You can get yer tailoring done at Phantom Thief. Neito’s an ass, but his handiwork is real good. Worth the trip. His partner’s got connections in France, too. Together they could stitch you up something real nice for an honest price.”
“Eugh, ignore Grape Rush Saloon. Food’s shit and the attitude’s shittier. If you want a good beer, just head to Fat’s.”
He even approved of the inn Katsuki had decided to stay at. “Toru and Tsu run a tight ship there and treat it as if it’s their own home. Yer in good hands.”
It should’ve been overwhelming, yet the taller man had a way of easing information into conversation. He was charismatic, charming, and witty. The more Katsuki spoke with Eijirou, the more drawn he felt to him. It was… dangerous.
A commotion toward the edge of town interrupted their tour. Following the noise was a cloud of dust behind someone on horseback.
“Ah, perfect timing!” Eijirou cheered as he encouraged Katsuki to follow him. The blond frowned but tailed him with trepidation.
The lone rider rode down the street and slowed in front of the sheriff's station. Three horses were connected to the rider's by a long rope with lumps over the saddles. As they approached, Katsuki realized the lumps were people tied up.
“Hello, darlin’,” Eijirou called out.
The rider dismounted their chestnut horse before turning to face them with a bright grin. “Howdy!”
Katsuki realized four things then.
One, the rider was a petite woman. Curvaceous and busty, especially around her hips, she exuded strength despite her short stature. She had a round face with pinkened cheeks, likely from riding in the heat, and chestnut hair cropped just below her ears—barely seen by the weathered leather cowboy hat atop her head.
Two, her outfit wasn't what he would’ve expected for someone who had just rode in on horseback. Instead of the shirt and jeans Eijirou wore, she had on a puffy sleeved white button down blouse that tucked into a high waisted gray skirt. The skirt itself looked breathable and was hemmed about two inches above her boots that matched the color of her riding gloves and the holsters belted at her hips. Wrapped around her neck was a bright pink bandana, which brought his eye to another important detail.
Three, pinned above her heart was a badge. This tiny, strong, well-dressed woman was the sheriff Katsuki had been searching for. Scratch being strong, she was herculean because who took down three men twice her size and by herself? All this led to the final revelation.
Four, he was unbelievably infatuated by this woman.
Now, Katsuki Bakugou was not the type of man to feel a certain way toward anyone, especially at first greetings. For fuck’s sake she’d only said one word! And it wasn’t even directed at him! So why the hell did he feel so spellbound for some lady just because she wore a fancy badge, hogtied three men on her lonesome, and acted a little differently than the city women he was accustomed to?
As the duo greeted each other, Katsuki mentally gave himself a stern talking to and resisted the urge to punch himself.
“Fancy seeing you out here,” the sheriff grinned. She placed a hand on her hip and shifted her weight to cock a hip. She tapped the lip of her hat upward and looked up through her lashes. “I wasn't expecting a welcome party! You really know how to make a girl feel special, don't you Mister Deputy?”
Eijirou removed his hat with a large hand and held it against his chest. An intricate braid kept most of his hair off his neck. “Aw, it's the least I can do for someone as manly as you, madam sheriff.”
The woman giggled with a lazy grin and tugged Eijirou closer using his belt. “Now ain’t you sweet, sugar.”
“Not as sweet as you, darlin’,” Eijirou drawled low.
And just like that, the heat Katsuki felt moments earlier sizzled to embers. And also brought about confusion. Why the fuck did he care anyway? It wasn’t as if he’d be staying here for more than a few months. And what they did wasn’t any of his business anyway. Who cared if they flirted with each other? It wasn’t as if he wanted to be with both of them. Together. Preferably between the deputy’s pecs and the sheriff's thighs.
Katsuki blinked. Wait, what—?
“And who’s this stranger? I haven’t seen you before.”
Katsuki raised his gaze to meet inquisitive ones. Her doe-like eyes reminded him of melted chocolate and he felt himself flush at the attention.
“This here’s Katsuki Bakugou,” Eijirou grunted as he grabbed one of the men on horseback and threw him over his shoulder easily. Good god, that should not be so attractive. “He came in with those traders from Illinois. Said he’s an author lookin’ to write his next novel and came ‘ere lookin’ fer inspiration.”
“Mr. Bakugou,” the redhead grinned, adjusting the weight on his shoulder, “I’d like to introduce you to sheriff Ochako Uraraka. Best woman you’ll meet in these parts, and a damn fine rider and shooter, too.”
Ochako clicked her tongue and playfully shoved Eijirou. “Oh, stop. Keep talking like that and I’d think you fancy me.”
Eijirou said nothing but his countenance spoke volumes. For fuck's sake. “Sheriff,” Katuski grunted and extended a hand. “I'd like to speak with you when you have a moment.”
“Of course!” Ochako chirped. She shook his hand and he held back a wince—she had a strong grip. “Once I get the paperwork done and reach out to the state, I'd be more than happy to discuss your matters, Mr. Bakugou.”
“No need for the latter,” Eijirou called out from the porch. “I telegraphed them this morning. Should be here by the end of this week.”
Ochako gasped gleefully. “Mr. Kirishima, you sly coyote! You're lucky I caught up to them.”
“As if there was any doubt, ma’am,” Eijirou grinned as he disappeared into the building.
She turned back to Katsuki and clasped her hands together. “You must be hungry. Has Eijirou taken you around town yet? They make the loveliest pies at Fat’s. I absolutely insist you give them a spin!”
Katsuki noticed the slight change to her accent. Though her previous one was not quite as heavy as the deputy's, it now sounded more New Orlean. Interesting. “I'm fine. I'd rather discuss any recent crimes you’ve dealt with—”
As if out to betray him, his stomach growled. The woman narrowed her eyes and he gulped. (Later, he’d deny this.) She stared at him nonplussed for so long Katsuki squirmed. (He’d also deny this.)
“Eijirou!” She called out, maintaining eye contact. “Finish up for me here while I take our guest to Fats, please?”
The redhead popped his head out of the open door. “Would be my pleasure!”
“Now wait a goddamn minute!” Katsuki bristled. “I’m not goin—”
“Aw, what's a little talk over dinner?” Ochako looped her arm around Katsuki's and fizzled any thoughts he was going to voice. “You wanted to speak with the sheriff, so let's do so while filling up our stomachs. I'm sure you haven't had much to eat during your travels, and it's a long way from Illinois to Wyoming.”
Without waiting for an answer, she tugged him toward the direction of the saloon. Katsuki wanted to protest and did so, but she took it in stride and didn't take no for an answer. For a woman more than a head shorter than him, she was strong as hell—and stubborn, too.
Later, when Eijirou joined them for supper, Katsuki would deny any claims Ochako made. Despite how much he spat, he found that he didn't hate her fits of giggles or Eijirou's warm gaze. That was more frustrating than his humiliation. After insisting they walk him back to the inn and wishing him a goodnight, he briskly walked back to his room. And proceeded to scream into his pillow.
📖👢
It'd been two months since Katsuki arrived at Crimson Falls and it felt like a goddamn fever dream. Nothing interesting ever really went on in this town—and yet they did at the same time. Crime generally stayed low (which was an issue for Katsuki, since he typically wrote crime inspired works) and while he was initially drawn by how unique this town was ran, there weren’t many people that stood out to him. On the same token, however, he spent a lot of time with two people he became enamored by.
Eijirou and Ochako spent nearly every minute of every day with Katsuki. If one was near, it was guaranteed the other was close by. They hovered around him so much that he wondered if they ever got work done— if there was any. It honestly didn’t seem like it with how often they glued themselves to him.
Katsuki should be annoyed. Deku had done the exact same thing and was chewed out for it consistently. That damn two-toned bastard attempted to do the same thing and nearly got his hand bitten off (literally). He was always adverse to hovering or physical touch of any kind.
So what made these two idiots different?
Crimson eyes stared at the ceiling as he pondered the question. Could it be their beauty? They were both rather handsome. But was it enough to distract him like it was now?
A scowl formed on his already downturned face. Dammit, he was supposed to be working on his next novel, not thinking about… this . Whatever ‘this’ was. Turning back to his typewriter he grimaced at the disarray of balled up papers littering his desk and spreading to his bed and floor.
Rubbing his face with his hands, he growled loudly before scruffing his hair and scooting his chair closer to his desk. He needed to focus . It had already been nearly two years since Katsuki sold his apartment and decided to leave the city to travel west. Two years with nothing to show for it. And fucking Deku taking his number one spot as New York’s Best Writer with that damn Todoroki right behind him. And Katsuki ranking fucking third. For two. Fucking. Years.
That’s fine, he thought to himself with a growl. He can warm my spot for all I care. I WILL be taking it back, and soon.
The question was how . Deku wrote crime thrillers (because he was unoriginal and a fucking copycat like that) but Todoroki had written a biography about his corrupt father. Since he was a teen, Katsuki had written novels based off of the city he grew up in and the mysteries that surrounded him. If Katsuki wanted the number one spot back, he was going to need to change tactics. It was why he’d decided to uproot his life and travel west in hopes of finding a new muse.
Laughter drew his attention away from his thoughts, his eyes drifting to the distraction past his open window. The sight made him snort and brought a small smile to his countenance. Eijirou had at least three children hanging on each of his biceps, his arms curled up and toward him. Several of the children had latched to his ankle and were giggling loudly each time he’d drag them with every step. The behemoth was growling and snarling while contorting his face into different expressions—each sound and look making him less than intimidating. It was endearing.
Looking past Eijirou, Katsuki’s smirk widened to a grin. Surrounded by younger children, Ochako assisted tying little bandanas around their necks—her pink one already knotted neatly around her own. A little girl ran up to her and tugged on her sleeve, pointing to her bandana. The smile she gave the child made something in Katsuki’s chest squirm and flutter. He rubbed his chest absentmindedly as she gathered the children around her and led them in a charge against Eijirou.
Katsuki snorted and cackled as they all grabbed at his legs, his torso—anywhere they could reach. With a gallant roar, he fell to one knee before collapsing onto his back on the ground, his free leg flying upward before dropping to the ground and avoiding the kids giggling around him. Ochako threw her head back in laughter as she slowly approached the man dogpiled by children. She said something inaudible, and the little monster slayers immediately climbed off and ran away screaming in excitement.
Ochako stepped toward Eijirou and lifted her skirts to squat next to him as he sat up. They exchanged words, both wearing toothy grins as they stared adoringly at each other. Katsuki rubbed his chest harder with a scowl when the fluttering in his chest intensified. Jesus, why did they always make him feel… weird?! The hell was this anyway? It almost felt like the way he did when he’d find out a recent crime and write his novels—
The rubbing slowed to a stop and his eyes widened at a realization. He looked back at the duo and stared at them. He focused on how he was feeling in that moment: The weird fluttering in his chest, the warmth in his stomach, the clamminess in his palms…
They made him feel something. He might not have a name to it yet but…
Ripping the paper out of his typewriter, he carefully but quickly inserted a new sheet and started typing. What he couldn’t put a name to, he could write. As he typed, the more the excitement grew.
For the first time since he left New York City, he finally found his spark.
📖👢
“Katsuki! You in ‘ere?”
A knock on his door startled the writer out of his stupor. Grumbling a curse and rubbing his eyes, he looked around him. Neat piles of paper surrounded him, all in chronological order. His eyes returned to his typewriter, where he was writing the last couple lines of his novel. With a flourish, he finished typing it and placed the final page on the pile furthest from him.
Grinning to himself, he burned with the pride that after eight months in Crimson Falls, he finished writing his novel. Which meant that he could finally start the next phase of his master plan. And not a moment too soon.
The door to his room knocked again before it opened. “There ya are! Been looking fer ya— Whoa, have you been writing all day? When was the last time ya ate?”
Katsuki turned and felt his heart stutter at the sight of Eijirou’s concerned gaze. Looking outside, he was shocked to find that it was dusk. “I—uh,” Katsuki coughed. His stomach growled in protest and he flushed. “I hadn’t realized—”
“We’re going to Fat’s,” Eijirou stated sternly. “And yer gettin’ somethin’ to eat.”
Knowing better than to argue with him (or Ochako for that matter), Katsuki sighed resignedly. “Yeah, yeah, let me grab my coat.”
Winter in Crimson Falls was much chillier than what the New Yorker was used to. While snow could pile up as high as several feet in the city, out west it tripled in height. Temps dipped low enough at night that Katsuki had to request extra quilts and a warming pan for his room from the inn gals and commission Neito to make him a new winter coat. (The man was an infuriating cocky ass, but the man was good at his craft.)
Katsuki shivered as he wrapped his new coat tighter around himself. “Fucking hell, it’s freezing,” he growled between chattering teeth.
A heavy arm wrapped around his shoulders and rubbed. He felt himself melt into the side of the other man and sighed into his warmth. “You really don’t like the cold months, do ya?”
“No,” he muffled into his scarf, his eyes fighting to flutter close despite still walking. He thumped his head against the other’s chest. “Not really.”
He could’ve sworn he heard Eijirou’s breath hitch, but it was difficult to tell over the sound of his own pounding heartbeat. The taller man tightened his grip around the blond and they walked the rest of the way to Fat’s in comfortable silence. The saloon was busy tonight, and where it was cold and quiet outside it was uncomfortably stuffy and loud inside. The redhead whispered for him to stay by the door and he felt cold again as the other ran to the bartop and called for Fat’s attention.
Not a moment later, arms wrapped themselves around one of his and he felt himself melt once more. “Well ain’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Ochako purred into his ear. “I missed you. Where’ve you been?”
A shudder ran down his spine and he let out a stuttered breath. “Writing,” he replied, his voice gruffer than he intended. “I finally finished it.”
Ochako perked and turned to face him. “You finished your novel?!” she yelled excitedly. “Katsuki, that’s wonderful! We oughta celebrate!”
Katsuki could feel his face and neck burn but he didn’t care. With her sparkling brown eyes and wide smile all directed at him, how could he feel embarrassed? She was like that because of him, and that made him puff his chest in pride and grin wide. “Damn fucking right, cheeks.”
“Koko! Just in time!” Eijirou smiled brightly as he walked back to them. “I jus’ ordered us some curry to-go. It’s busy tonight, huh?”
“Rou, did he tell you?!” Ochako shook Katsuki’s arm excitedly. “Kats finished his novel!”
“What?!” The redhead whipped his head toward the blond. “Well, I’d be damned! That’s fantastic news! Shit, let me go ask for some ale—”
Katsuki chuckled and grabbed onto his hand before the redhead could run back to the bar. “I’d rather you both sober if you’re going to read it.”
“Read it?”
Wide red and brown eyes blinked at him before they glittered with joy. “Katsuki, I…” Ochako looked at Eijirou before looking back at him. “Yeah, we’d love to! This is a huge honor.”
“What Koko said.” Eijirou squeezed his hand and stepped closer. “What’d ya like us to do, blondie?”
“You could grab our food and come back with me to my room,” Katsuki sultry said with a sly grin.
Several months ago, he’d recognized what he felt for the two of them and he wasn’t dumb—he could tell that they felt, in some shape or form, the same love and affection for him. But Katsuki was a perfectionist. In time, he told himself, he would profess his love for them… When the time was right.
With his novel finished, tonight was the perfect time.
Eijirou and Ochako blushed prettily at the implication and he chuckled darkly. He couldn’t wait to blow them away with his words… And maybe more.
📖👢
Katsuki sighed contentedly into his book. Despite the muddy ground and near constant downpour, spring was definitely his favorite season. It was warm enough for him to function again while not yet reaching the blistering heat of summer.
Curled in his favorite chair by the fireplace, his mind drifted to the past few months. After Katsuki had brought them to his room the night he finished his novel, he confessed to them by sharing what the book was about: Them. He’d written a version of their love story from what Katsuki had observed, and added himself into their story near the end. He’d explained that the story could work without him in it, but he wanted to give them the choice of how the novel ended.
Needless to say they unanimously chose to keep him in the story—in their story. Despite how sure Katsuki had felt, he was relieved to hear they’d felt the same. The next day he had checked out of The Invisible Froppy Inn and moved into Eijirou and Ochako’s home. Considering that he only had some clothes, his typewriter, and the first draft of his novel, he settled in quickly.
Sending out letters to Deku, Todoroki, and his publisher was fun. Deku, the fucking loser he was, sent his good wishes and hoped that they’d keep in touch. As if. Todoroki responded that he thought he died and was ‘very glad’ that he hadn’t. Fucking prick. His publisher was ecstatic about the novel and immediately went to work to get it sent to his editor. Despite that, however…
“Hey, blondie, a letter came in for ya!”
Humming noncommittally, Katsuki kept his nose in his book as he lazily reached out a hand out for the letter. Instead, fingers intertwined with his and he looked up in time to find warm chapped lips against his. Smirking into the kiss he kept the man close by his bandana. “Is there actually a letter or did you want to distract me?”
Another pair of arms slithered around his neck from behind and he leaned into the body behind him. “And what if I said both?”
Letting out a quiet tch he replied, “I’d call you both fucking saps.”
He grinned at her giggles and the kiss pressed against his cheek. “You say that, but I’m not the one who wrote a western romance novel.”
“Ex-fucking-cuse you, that’s a New York best seller western romance novel, written by New York’s best writer,” Katsuki huffed proudly.
“Don’tcha mean Crimson Falls best writer?” Another kiss was pressed to his cheek before nosing toward his ear and nipping it. “Sorry to break it to ya, sugar, but you ain’t in New York no more.”
He turned his head and heatedly stared at her mischievous smirk. “That so?”
“Mhm, though my memory’s a little fuzzy on the difference.”
“Yeah? Then let me remind you what a New Yorker feels like,” he growled as he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into his lap. She fell with a squeal and giggled into his scorching kiss. His hand reached back for Eijirou’s belt and tugged him closer, eliciting a belly laugh from the larger man.
The letter was temporarily forgotten on their shared dining room table, and when Katsuki did eventually open it to read to his partners it confirmed what he already knew. His novel was the number one bestseller for three months straight now with no signs of slowing sales. His publishers sent his novel to Oxford for a possible Galsford Prize—the first of its kind.
Also in the letter was his publisher begging once more for Katsuki to return to New York City, but why would he, when his spark and inspiration resided here in Crimson Falls?