#but will they sit in the dirt with me and throw rocks while we talk about nothing

[smallidarityyuri]

Joel was utterly helpless. He had fallen for Jimmy so hard and so fast it made his head spin.

Joel was sitting on a campsite, feet in the dirt. In his hand, a beer sweating. The water drips down his hand and falls onto the grass. There's music playing distantly out of a small speaker. Joel had it shuffled on a classical rock playlist, and honestly, he wasn't paying attention to it at all despite loving classical rock. What he was paying attention to was the man sitting next to him.

Jimmy. Beautiful, endearing, funny, sweet, idiotic Jimmy. Jimmy was also holding a beer, but it was much more full. He was a social drinker, so Joel wasn't surprised that he hadn't drank that much of it. His other hand was in the dirt, helping him stay propped up while he was leaning back a little. He was laughing at a joke Joel had made. Joel doesn't even remember what he had said. He was too busy staring at Jimmy.

Jimmy looked so beautiful with the yellow and the orange lights of the campfire flames bouncing off his face. It made his eyes look so beautiful, more orange than brown. It made Joel stare at Jimmy's lips, highlighted by the flames. He looked so kissable.

Maybe it was the beer talking, making Joel want to kiss his best friend, but he didn't think so. Joel could last a while on beer, and he was only a drink and a half in. He's thought about it a few times, kissing Jimmy. This time he was serious. He was fully set on the fact that he wanted this man in front of him.

Jimmy sighs and looks to the flames.

"I'm glad we got this going now that it's dark. What is it, like eleven? It's getting damn cold out."

Joel smiles and takes another sip of his beer. His eyes don't leave Jimmy.

"Yeah- yeah it is getting a little cold. It'll be fine though." He replies.

Jimmy nods softly. His eyes are still fixed on the fire, glowing.

"I'm glad we decided to bring extra blankets for the tent. I think I'd freeze to death without them, since I'm always cold." He giggles at himself when he mentions how he's always got goosebumps.

Joel giggles with him.

"Yeah. If you ever get too cold we can share body warmth or some other shit."

He throws the offer out there hoping Jimmy would want it. Hoping that he'd want to hold hands, cuddle, or even just sit a little closer together. Joel doesn't even know why he was thinking this- it wasn't like he felt this way about Jimmy a month ago. Or maybe- maybe he did. Maybe had fallen for Jimmy like this earlier than he thought and he'd just never noticed. Joel's head was spinning thinking about this.

Jimmy scoffs and rolls his eyes. It doesn't play off the little bit of pink on his face. Joel catches it- he sees how Jimmy reacts to that. Maybe Jimmy was just blushing cause he was embarrassed, or maybe, just maybe, it was something else. Joel hung onto that.

"Well if it ever comes down to that I'm sure I'll let you know."

Joel blinks.

"Comes down to it?" He repeats. "Surely cuddling with your favourite person ever means more to you than that. Honestly? I'm sooo offended. You've hurt my feelings, Tim. I'm hurt."

Jimmy takes a sip of his drink and snorts.

"I lied, I love cuddling with you. You're very warm an' shit. It's nice."

Joel almost freezes, but immediately realises that yeah, they do cuddle and all that stuff pretty often. They have once they've known each other and that's just how they were. Joel teases Jimmy for it anyways.

"Wow Tim. If I didn't know any better I'd think you have a crush on me."

Jimmy looks at him and immediately looks away. He takes another sip of his beer and bites the bottom of his lip lightly. The way he always did when he was thinking too hard. He chuckles slowly, nervous suddenly.

"Well- I mean- not that that'd be a bad thing. I mean, I wouldn't mind havin-" Jimmy stops himself before what he could say even happened.

Joel stares. Not in the lovestruck way this time. Sort of confused, but also humored. Joel raises his eyebrow slowly, giving him that look that begged him to continue. Jimmy frowns, but sort of wobbly. Like he was nervous and not actually upset, and that's just how his face forms that emotion.

"Joel-"

"Do you.. have a crush on me? Like- are you in love with me, Jim." Joel relaxes his face a bunch so Jimmy doesn't feel afraid to tell him, since he was skittish and all.

He knew if he looked anything other than calm then Jimmy would back out immediately and.. Joel was in love with him. He wanted to know if Jimmy felt the same. Jimmy actually frowns this time. His voice is very very quiet, like a mouse. Or at least, Joel thinks he sounds like a mouse.

"Yeah. A whole lot. I- I love you like- like a lover a lot. I uhm- I'm sorry if-"

Jimmy is cut off from whatever uncalled for self degrading shit he was going to spew because Joel had gotten so excited at Jimmy saying that he loved him like that, that Joel had tossed his drink aside and pressed his lips to the other. Jimmy squeaks very loudly in surprise, and turns stiff as stone. After a few beats, he relaxes. He lets Joel kiss him, and he lets go of his drink carefully. Jimmy starts to kiss back, obviously, as you do when you kiss.

Joel pulls back moments after, but not that far from Jimmy. Their faces were still inches apart.

"Woah." Jimmy whispers.

His face looks even more red than he's ever seen it, and his eyes are wide like dinner plates. He looks even more red with the flames of the campfire making his face glow. Camping truly did make the world seem a lot more beautiful, and Jimmy was Joel's world.

#solidaritygaming #jimmy solidarity #smallishbeans #joel smallishbeans #trafficshipping #smallidarity #my writing #/romantic #messy confession #love them they're so dysfunctional

[nattinatalia]

Urban Wyatt x Reader : PINKY PROMISE?

A/N: Requested by anon 🫶🏼 also huge thanks to my buttercup @harlowcomehome for helping me on this. She always comes through 💚

You and your little family were camping for the weekend. Cassie had suggested going for a walk and throwing rocks into the river. But the moment she woke up, she was cranky and being short towards Urban.

You definitely found it amusing since that little girl lives and breathes daddy’s girl. So you were soaking this little attitude of hers up.

Plus, seeing the look on Urban’s face whenever she denied being near him was priceless. He was jealous at the fact that Cassie wanted to be near you instead of him.

“Okay Cassie, let me carry you down these rocks.”

She shakes her head “I want mommy.”

“Yeah well your mommy can’t carry you while she climbs over these. So I need to help you.” Urban reaches out for her but she goes to hide behind your legs.

You chuckle. “Cassandra, what is going on? Why don’t you want daddy to help you?”

“You help me, not him.” She looks up at you from behind your legs.

“Come here then, I got you.” You bend down to carry her and start climbing through the rocks, with Urban right besides you helping you move around them.

You were finally near the river and you let out a huge relief grunt “Finally, this nature thing isn’t for me. Keep me indoors next time please?”

“This was your idea, babe.” Urban chuckles.

“Yeah well you should’ve known that it was a bad idea with how much I hate hiking.” You glare at him, and set Cassie down so she can walk.

“Mommy, we throwing rocks?”

“Yes baby, but daddy will teach you okay?”

She rolls her eyes at that. “Why? I don’t want hims.”

“Cassandra, compórtate bien mija.”

“Ughh.” She walks ahead but not too far, just close enough that you can see hee stomping hee feet against the dirt.

You look at Urban and see he’s upset. “Hey.” You go towards him. “Why don’t you go smoke that blunt you have and I’ll see what’s up with the little attitude.”

“You sure?”

“Oh yeah, I need to find out what’s going on with her.”

You follow after Cassandra and finally stop in front of the little river.

“Okay missy, let’s pick up rocks while you tell me why you’re being mean to your father.”

“Momma he just rude.”

“Why? What did he do?” You’re concerned now, did she overhear something? What could he possibly have done to make her so upset.

“He did something bad and it not okay, I’m mad at him.”

“Do you mind sharing what he did to upset you mama? I promise to talk to him about it.”

She stands in front of you, her hands inside her sweat pockets.

She tells you why she’s upset and you chuckle at that. “Baby, he-“

“Okay I’m back.” Urban announces.

“I’m gonna looks for rocks.” Cassie whispers, but instead of doing that, she goes to sit down on a big rock and staring ahead at the water and sky.

You smile and turn your entire body towards Urban. “I know why she’s upset.”

“Why?”

“You ate her chocoflan.” You chuckle.

“What?”

“You ate the slice she was saving all day and when she was getting ready for bed she saw you sneaking out of the tent with it.”

“So she’s mad at me over that?.”

“Hmm.” You nod, “Our girl doesn’t play about her food baby, you should know this by now.”

“Yeah, she’s just like her mother.” He smirks. “I’ll be right back, I have to make sure my little girl is good.”

Urban walks over to Cassie, sitting beside her on the rock as she’s pouting.

“Is it okay if I sit here?”

“I guess, you’re already sitting” she pouts.

“Mommy told me that I may have upset you, is that right?” He’s scanning her face for emotions.

“It didn’t belong to you” her eyes get watery.

“Baby bug, I’m sorry. I was just really hungry” Urban stifles a laugh realizing how serious Cassie was taking this.

“What if I make sure to replace it when we go home?”

“Pinky promise?” She eyed her dad up and down, not sure whether she should immediately trust him or not.

“Pinky promise” Urban held his pinky out.

“Tio Jack said you always eat his stuff but he doesn’t get mad, but I do” she explained and Urban nodded before helping her off the rock to walk back over to where you stood.

“All good now?” You asked.

“Yupp, and I’m going to fight Jack when we get home” he mumbled.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing” he smiled.

• • • • • • • • • • • • •

TAG LIST

@heavyhitterheaux @harlowsbby @arination99 @cmalass @jackharloww @minkookie95 @deannaard @jacksmoviestar @harlowcomehome @fdl305 @httpkoylinnn @xoxokiaraaxoxo @hoodharlow @automaticpeachsong @amethyst09 @aliciacat20 @allyson15 @gabbylovesreading @stefansalvatoresgf @violetdreamsworld @carma-fanficaddict @jasminxts @itsaaliyah2 @itsyagirljaz @harrycanyonmoonn @neon-lights-and-glitter @awhore4moree

#urban wyatt #urban wyatt x y/n #urban wyatt x yn #urban wyatt x you #urban wyatt x reader #urban wyatt fic #urban wyatt fanfic #jack harlow

[w33nies]

Qué Maravilla - CH.9

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

Miguel O'hara x SpiderReader rating: E for Everyone bby warnings: none? lots of angst tbh and bad words summary: you and miguel talk out your differences because you love eachother art is from the movie !!

----------------- Ch.9 - Warts and All ---------------------

Not a word was spoken between you and Miguel as you leaped through the streets of Brooklyn - 42. You were currently giving him the silent treatment for the condescending spiel he gave you at Uncle Aaron's hideout. Ever since you found yourself on opposite sides of this ‘canon events’ issue, your patience for him was wearing thin (though you were certain the feeling was mutual). 

You pause to anchor yourself on the side of some office building to gauge your position. Fisk tower began to distinguish itself over the horizon. It would only take a few minutes to reach, and if you were lucky you would find Miles there. How you would get him home without Miguel interfering well… that was yet to be determined. 

“Hey.” 

His deep voice from above cuts through the air like a knife. You hadn’t heard him land. You turned to see him standing on the ledge of the building looking down at you.

“Can we talk? Just for a second.” 

You furrow your brows at his request. Really you wanted to say no. The gall on this man to pull a ‘can we talk’ on you at a time like this, as a young boy was essentially stranded in an alternate dimension while his family was at stake. The anger rising in you compels you to tell him off, ‘but this will probably give Gwen and the others a chance to catch up to Miles,’ you eventually reason. An irritated ‘tsk’ escapes from your mouth. 

“Sure,” you replied curtly.

You begrudgingly climb to meet him on the roof. Miguel sits down with a pained groan, his hand propped on the ground for support. A wave of worry washes over you watching him like this, however you quickly discard the feeling. 

“What is it?” Your attitude is terse; you rip your mask off to face him before placing your hands on your hips. 

Miguel gently pats the ground beside him. His dangling feet are swinging hastily under his growing nerves. You sigh as you sit down next to him with crossed arms and legs.

The hi-tech fabric that made up his suit receded enough just to reveal his face. He sat picking invisible dirt from his talons, feigning interest in them under your scrutinizing gaze. “What I said back there…,” he began nervously, “I…I didn’t mean it.” 

You look him up and down unconvinced. “You didn’t mean it?” 

“Well, I mean, I did but-“ 

“-You didn’t mean for it to come out that way.”

“No-I…” he pauses under your raised brow before relenting “...Yeah… I’m sorry.” He shrinks into himself (though impossible given his large stature). With a groan he pinches his aching temples. 

“I was just really upset and,you know, the withdrawals on top of everything isn't helping. Not that it’s an excuse or anything-”

“-It’s whatever.” You dismiss him with a shake of your head. 

 “Cariño. Please…” 

“...What?” 

“I really am sorry.” 

“I said whatever. It’s fine.” 

“If we talk it out then maybe-”

“-It’s fine Miguel.” 

Miguel sighed as his hand pulled down on the front of his face. ‘Things were definitely not fine.’ 

“I just…”  Miguel picks up a small rock and fiddles with it in his fingers  “...didn’t expect things to snowball into a fucking civil war.” He then throws a pebble into the abyss below, sending his right mind with it it seems.

“And whose fault is that?” you rebuke instantly. Flushed with anger you unintentionally began to raise your voice,“Were you ever gonna tell me?” 

Miguel’s chest rises as he takes in a breath to speak, but when he opens his mouth he finds that no words come out. “I only found out because you embarrassed that poor boy in front of everyone. You put him in serious danger-”

 “He was not in danger-”

“-Yeah, you only ripped off his day pass while he was in a foreign dimension then body slammed him into the side of the train headed straight for the fucking moon.”

“You think I do all this because I want to?” Miguel flails his arms exasperatedly, “Someone has to be the one to keep everyone in line and I am the only one holding everything together.” 

“Wow. Okay.” You scoff,  “So me and the thousands of other spider men and women you work with are what? Dead weight?” 

“No, I- You know what I mean.” 

“Yeah…I do…” 

The quiet that ensued was agonizing, especially for Miguel. And to think things between you guys were going so well until day. He didn’t mean to lie to you, but was the only way he knew how to ‘save’ you. But then again, ‘save’ was a funny word. What could he possibly save you from? The two of you simply being together is what got you and millions of innocent people killed the last time. Sometimes he feels that things would’ve been better if he had never got involved with you. That the first time was an omen of the trouble that came with when he tried so desperately to entangle his life with yours. An indicator that some things work in theory but not in practice. That maybe you two were just never meant to be…

Miguel believed the multiverse had a path set out for him just like everyone else. His job was just to make sure everyone focused on connecting the dots. Those who freehand or doodle in the margins risked ruining the bigger picture until it was all just unintelligible scribbles or worse, until the canvas was so vandalized it became completely blank, meaningless, nothing. Maybe your picture was never meant to include him in it…

Though where everyone else had merely dots, you had stars. And even if his and your stars would never share a constellation he would still run to see you each night with a telescope in hand, creating stories and myths about the most wondrous heavenly body to grace the sky. Tales that would outlast time and transcend space, much like his love for you…

Any sane person would deduce that it is debilitating work to continue chasing something that could be destined to fail so miserably. However this is what set Miguel O’Hara apart. Such work was not work to him, not if it was for you. 

He remembered a story he read about religious fables from alternate universes. What was the one they told about the man, the woman, and a bite of a forbidden fruit? Maybe it wasn’t the fruit that they bit…

“Mira.” Miguel spoke softly as he unceremoniously tried to shift himself to be closer to you. “I feel for you. I do. If I could give my life to keep Miles' father and your niece alive, you could bet I would. In a heartbeat. But that's not how things work around here. As awful as it sounds… If everyone got the justice they deserved it would upset the delicate balance of things. The whole idea just sounds like a pipe dream. It’s unrealistic…”

You refuse to give Miguel your eyes, instead bringing your focus on the tower in the distance. The others were likely well inside by now. You wanted to believe you were still sitting here talking to Miguel simply to buy them time,but deep down you knew that wasn’t the case.

 “How can you say that and still call yourself a good guy?” 

Miguel rubs his hands down the front of his face. “What did you expect me to do?” He wailed a tone of vulnerability that almost threw you off your righteous demeanor. “How did you expect me to tell you that your niece was gonna die and that there is nothing you can do about it?” 

Frustrated, you smack your tongue against your teeth, “Well you sure found a way to explain it to everyone else-”

“-I didn’t tell Pavitir-”

“-Doesn’t make it any better,” you snapped back.  “I deserve to know the truth even if it hurts my feelings. That’s for me to decide.” 

The man scrunches his face with confusion, “If it hurts your feelings?” 

“No. If there’s nothing I can do about it.”  

Miguel sighs, “But you can’t.”  Your chest rises and your mouth drops, ready for immediate retort. Miguel raises his palms pleadingly, silently asking you to pause so he can continue. 

“We can’t control everything. No matter how hard we try. But you know what? That’s okay. Canon events like these, it’s the one thing that keeps us connected. The good and the bad.” He places his hands dangerously close to yours, fingertips brushing against one another. “It’s beautiful in a way. Isn’t it? Our stories, similar yet so unique. Different yet the same…”

“Then why are you?”

“Why am I what?”

“Trying to control everything.” You look up to meet his gaze, expecting to find irritability but instead find his head cocked to the side in confusion. “Let him live his life the way he wants. Let him decide how his story goes.”

He sighed, turning to face you fully.  “Ay dios mío, it's not up to me. I’ll be the first to say that everything happening right now, it sucks. Truly. But my hands are tied.” he hesitantly moves to hold your hand despite himself.

 “I’m sorry cariño. It’s just the lesser of two evils.” 

You rub your thumb along his knuckles. “I think our universes are all connected, but not in the way you believe. I think it’s deeper than the trauma we do or don’t share with each other. ”

“You’re right. But I’ve learned from experience that we can’t cherry pick the parts we like. It’s either all or nothing. We have to take it in stride, warts and all.”  He grips your hand tighter while he takes a few slow, steadying breaths with closed eyes. Almost as if he was asthmatic and your touch alone was his inhaler. 

 “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he murmured, “I thought I was… protecting you.” He avoids your stare, instead messaging the palm of your hand, tracing his fingers along the creases as if he were about to read you your fortune. 

You looked for clues of deceit in his eyes but all you found was remorse. You felt his hurt just as you knew he felt yours. You didn’t want to hurt each other but you were essentially on opposite sides of a serious cultural war. And was there any room for compromise when there were lives on the line? 

You decided no. You needed Miles to succeed. Because if he could do it maybe you could too. Because what kind of cruel joke would it be to live a story you couldn’t even write yourself?

There was just one more thing you had to ask…

“What if it was Gabi? Your Gabi? You can’t tell me you wouldn’t do the same if it was her.”

Miguel's eyes momentarily widened with shock before then instantly looked downward with shame. “To be honest I…” he gives you one final squeeze before shamefully letting it go.

“...I don’t know. I would do anything for her, but… It hurts to think about. To think about the things I should’ve done. The things I could’ve done. Even if I could go back in time with everything I know now I’m worried I would’ve just made different mistakes.”  

He heaves a deep sigh, running his fingers through his wavy locks “I don’t think it's quite the same but… I can see myself doing the same for Gabi.” And he would most definitely do the same for you. 

. “I’m sorry.” he mumbled “That’s the best I can do-”

“-Thank you.”

He lets out a bewildered chuckle. “Uhhh. For what?”

“...For trying to understand I guess.” 

Despite your nerves, you move to rest your head on his shoulder. He hesitantly hover his cheek above your head before giving into temptation and allowing it to rest on top of it. “I know it's hard. I just wanna say… I get it too. Whatever happens, let’s try to forgive each other. You finally look up to meet his crimson eyes.  

“Promise?”

“I promise.” He said in a low whisper. You hold each other's gaze for just a moment, any longer and you fear you’d melt.

“Welp.” You straighten your back and slap your comically thighs with your hands. “I guess this is the part where we pinky promise.” You playfully extend out your hand for him to take, “Or maybe we can shake on it-”

Before you can finish yourself, his body is pressed up against you and you find yourself engulfed in the scent of his sweat and shampoo (musky, woody, sweet).  A soft warmth crashing against your lips and a strong, calloused hand moved to cup your jaw. It takes you a second to process what is going on…

You were being kissed. Miguel O’hara was kissing you. 

Once you overcome the shock you lean into it. The hand you previously extended for him to shake is now pressed firmly against his chest. The feel of his quickening heartbeat emboldens you to embrace him with your free arm around his back. Miguel’s moves to pull you closer by your waist. You finally break the kiss after having to come up for some much needed air. You rest your foreheads against one another as you both regain your breath.

“How does that work?” he asks in a low husky whisper.

“It works,” you laugh through huffs and puffs. 

You both stay like that for what felt like a minute, though no amount of time would’ve been enough. Miguel is the first to break the embrace, clearing his throat as stands at his feet.

“...We should go.”

“Yeah.” You rise to your feet as well. 

He watches you as you pull on your mask, taking in your features before they’re covered completely. Only then does he cover his face. You both nod and then jump off the building to resume your travels.

The euphoric feeling didn’t last long. The closer and closer you swung to the more dread boiled in your gut.  There was no delaying the inevitable any longer. Though you both had agreed to disagree, you knew that sentiment would be tested once you both reached the tower. How would he react when face to face with the rest of the crew? Would he be able to keep his cool once seeing Peter or Gwen? Nothing you do could quell the nervous fire brewing in your psyche.

At least there was one thing you and Miguel could for sure agree on…

…Shit was was about to hit the fan.

#miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #astv #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #miles morales

[final-girl96]

Broken World: Chapter One

2000

I was sitting beside my best friend, Daryl Dixon. I had just graduated high school and was getting ready to start college that was an hour away. We were sitting on the bank beside the creek that runs through the woods behind his house. "Ya really want to go off to college?"

Daryl had dropped out of high school his sophomore year, claiming school was useless. He was a smart man, but more street smart than book smart. He knew everything about survival, cars, and motorcycles. Of course, he was also five years older than me, but that never got in the way of us being friends.

We met on the playground when we were kids. I was only seven and he was twelve. Two boys were making fun of me, pushing me back and forth, knocking me to the ground. That's when Daryl stepped in, punching both of them before helping me up. He made sure I was okay then walked me home. Ever since that day we've been inseparable.

"Yes, Daryl, I'm sure I want to go off to college," I said, throwing a rock into the creek. "Why can't ya just go to the Community College?" He asked, head tilted down, picking at the dirt with a stick. "Because I don't want to be stuck in this town my whole life. I'll still be living at home, so it's not like you're not going to see me." I nudged him, and he finally looked at me.

"What's this really about?" I asked. He brought his hand up to bite the side of his thumb, and I pushed it back down, holding it between both my hands. "Daryl, what's going on?" I asked. "Merel went back to jail last night." That's not a shocker. Merle was always in and out of jail. He was in and out of Juvie when he was a teenager, too. Dealing and doing drugs, getting into bar fights. He had a short fuse, and that got him in trouble a lot.

"What was it for this time?" I asked. "Failed his drug test for parol." I nodded my head and hummed. "Did your dad come home from the cabin yet?" He shook his head, "Nah. He's still up there with his buddies. He can stay there for all I care." Daryl's dad wasn't a great man. He was an abusive drunk.

He always had bruises on his from where his dad would hit him. There were times that it would be so bad that he was left with permanent scars. His dad has burned him with cigarettes and beaten him with whatever he could grab. I've cleaned him up, cleaning his cuts and bandaging him up on late nights. I've even let him sleep on my floor some nights, making sure he was gone in the morning before my dad or stepmother woke up.

We sat in silence for a while, as we usually do. I had let go of his hand and laid my head on his shoulder. "Maybe we should just run away," I said. The only response I got from Daryl was a grunt. He's never been a very talkative person, and that was okay with me. It started to get darker, and Daryl walked me home, like he always does.

My dad was never fond of me being friends with Daryl. He knew his dad back in high school and said he wasn't always like he is now. But everyone in this town looks down on the Dixon's. More Merle and Will, but they still put Daryl down and assumed he was just like his father and brother. Some people were kind to him, like Mr. Lawson, who owned the only garage in town. He's always been nice to Daryl and gives him a job when he needs it.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" I asked. Daryl was looking down at the ground, biting his lip. "Earth to, Dixon." I waved my hand in front of his face. "Hmm?" He hummed, looking up at me. "See you tomorrow?" He nodded, looking behind me at the house. "I'm workin' at the garage until three so it won't be til then," he said. "Okay, that's fine. Maybe I'll stop in around lunchtime and bring ya something," I said.

"Ya ain't gotta do that." I rolled my eyes at him. "I want to, Daryl. You're my best friend. My only friend." He scoffed at that, "you got other friends. I better go before your dad comes home." I nodded my head and gave him a hug before he turned and walked across the street.

The next day, I did exactly what I said I was going to do. I stopped by the sub shop and got Daryl and I both lunch before heading to the garage. I walked in through the door where the front desk was, Mary sat behind it. Mary was Mr. Lawson's wife. "Well, hello, yn. How are you today, baby?" I smiled at her and walked up to the counter.

"I'm good. How are you doin' Mrs. Lawson?" I asked her. The Lawson's were a nice older couple. Always understanding and helping those in need. "I'm alright. You here for Daryl?" She asked, and I nodded my head. "I am. I brought him lunch," I said, holding up the bag in my hand. "Go on back. He's working on Frank Dawson's truck." I thanked her and walked back into the garage itself.

I found the red Chevy pickup and walked over to it. It was jacked up, and Daryl was looking under it. "Hard at work, I see." Daryl's head snapped to the side so hard I was sure he gave himself whiplash. "What the hell ya doin' here?" He asked, coming out from under the truck, pulled a red rag from his back pocket, and wiped his hands off. "I told you I was going to come by with lunch." I said, holding the bag up.

"Ya didn’t…" I held my hand up to stop him. "Don't even say it. Now come on, let's go out back to the picnic table and eat, Dixon!" I turned on my heel and walked to the door that went out back of the shop. I sat down and pulled the subs out. "Come on, sit down and eat!" I told him. He sighed and sat down across from me. I pulled out the sodas and put them down between us.

"So, how has your day been so far?" I asked, opening my sub. Daryl just shrugged. He was a man of few words. But that was okay because it was never an awkward silence between us. "Wanna hang out after you shift? My dad and Cheryl are going to be going out of town along with her little brats. So I'm all yours to "corrupt." Daryl rolled his eyes at me and scoffed. "I ain't the one doin' the corrupting."

I lightly kicked his leg with my foot, "Hey! I am an angel, thank you very much!" He scoffed around a mouth full of food. "An angel of hell," he said. I gasped, put my hand on my chest, and batted my eyelashes. "That is the nicest thing you've ever said about me!" A small smile grew on his face, and I could tell he was trying to keep it from getting bigger. "You're ridiculous."

"Maybe. But ya love me. I mean, come on, what would you do without me? Who else would annoy you?" He shook his head, and we finished eating. "What time should I expect you to be picking me up?" I asked as we made our way back inside. "What do ya wanna do? Ain't much to do in this shithole town," he said. I shrugged, "I don't know. We'll find something to do like we always do. Maybe you can sneak me into the bar, and I can find you a girlfriend!"

"Ain't happenin' so forget about it." I groaned, rolling my eyes at uim. "Come on, Daryl, live a little. I can totally find you a girlfriend!" I said. He threw our trash away and walked back into the garage. "Don't need no girlfriend. Dealin' with you is enough." My mouth dropped open with a gasp. "Excuse me? What is that supposed to mean? You're the one that picked me to be your best friend!"

"I didn't do shit," he grumbled. I knew he was just teasing by the small smirk on his face. "You saved me. That automatically made me your best friend. You're stuck with me for the rest of your life. Whether you like it or not!" I said, poking his arm. "Great. Now get outta here. I'll think about pickin' ya up around five." I gave him a side hug and kissed his cheek. "Can't wait!" Then I left and went back home.

Truth be told…I have a huge crush on my best friend; I have for a couple of years now. But I'm only seventeen, and he's twenty-two. Besides, there would be no way in hell that he would ever like me like that. He probably sees me as that annoying little sister. But I could dream, right?

#daryl dixon fanfic #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl fanfiction #twd daryl #daryl x reader #twd fanfiction #twd carol #twd fic #the walking dead #the walking dead fic #the walking dead daryl dixon #darly dixon x reader #carol petelier #rick grimes #shane walsh #carl grimes #lori grimes #dale horvath #andrea twd #glenn rhee #maggie rhee #maggie greene #beth greene #hershel greene #sophia peletier #merle dixon #tdog twd #the walking dead fanfiction

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

For Exsotica au

Mind if I have part two of the upper moons this time with the lower moon?

Sure Babe

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Exotica | Staying with the Lower Moons

I’m only going to do the three we actually get see doing more than just beg for their lives

Now cannononically none of these guys would have ever met Exotica considering time space and by the fact that Muzan thinks the 12 kizuki are literal filth compared to you but let's set that aside  

For you to be in the care of the lowermoons let’s say Muzan is continuing with this pass-you-along routine so you’re not getting attached to anyone but in this specific instance your on your way to the fortress

Let's say that for reasons you can’t just be teleported into the infinity fortress so they’ve gotta take you the long way round:

Rui

Let’s say you're placed with him because he’s a favorite of Muzan’s. Immediately he makes something up to fit his delusion of the family. So he’ll say you’re a guest that's staying for a few weeks and pass you around to be babysat by ‘his family.’ Any scrape extra speck of dirt incurs his wrath. 7x as bad as he usually is. Everyone’s on edge and everyone is far too scared to even blame you. Noticing the tightening of his regime you come in clutch with your smooth talking motherly persona.

“Rui, may I speak to you please?”

You said it into the night air sitting on the web made for you. You knew he could hear you even the weakest demons had a large range for this ability.

“What do you want?”

The statement was said with malice and you concluded he was in the middle of punishing his subordinates. You knew he couldn’t hurt you so you continued. 

“What is upsetting you, Rui?”

“Why do you keep saying my name like that?! And WHY SHOULD I TELL YOU ANYTHING?!” 

Coming closer to you hoping to intimidate you by getting in your face. You remained calm which was much easier when you had your headdress’ curtain blocking the view.

“Come.” You opened your arms “Come here Rui. Tell me about it.” 

Your voice was level. Calm. In absolute opposition to his seemingly rising anger. And like a hesitant foster kitten he comes around. Rationalizing his inability to lose he settles. Hesitant but relenting he plops into your folded lap partly expecting you to treat him like some common pet. Instead you wrapped your arms to hold him, letting your hanging sleeves drape around him like a blanket.

“So what has made you so upset?”

From then on there were some obvious changes. Talking and rocking him through his anger everyone begins to revere you. 

At first he was more than happy to reinstate you as the new mother, aiming his hand against spider mother’s throat to which you frantically said ‘no!’ You proposed another title: Meemaw. It throws him off long enough for you to come up with something that fits in with his delusion. 

“A family friend that’s really close to the family?”

It takes him a while to accept it but he does. And for the rest of your stay he’s a happy boy. So is the family. Everyone benefits from your advice and just your shoulder to cry on. It's only when some poor demon slayers come upon you while you’re telling a story to the ugly spider minions. Reporting immediately to That Man you are on to the next guard. 

Kyogai 

How perfect! A demon with the power to change rooms whenever needed? And the subject he’s guarding is a weak fragile human? It just works. 

Kyogai keeps you far away from him, practically disgusted at the fact your blood was not one of a Marechi. He ignores you other than the mandatory meals and baths he has to facilitate. It isn’t until you-a snoopy human comes across his writing. He immediately moves to tap his tsuzumi drums but he stops when he hears you let out an interested gasp as you search for the next page. 

He’s...confused. Do you actually like his work? Now he’s flattered and with the temperament of an anime school girl with a crush he will not approach you. 

For the most part you feel like you live alone as everything you need is supplied quickly without interaction or conflict. He dare not embarass himself! Not until he eats more marechi will he feel good enough to even be seen by you. Unfortunately you are whisked away before he can achieve it. And when he inevitably does begin to fade away he’ll think of Tanjiro but he’ll also think of you.

Enmu

Now this makes a lot of sense. Maybe you are proposing the idea of a vacation; eventually traveling back to Muzan and him relenting to let you on the Mugen Train. Placing a lot of his trust in his subordinate’s endeavour he allows you to be on the train. 

You’ll probably get your own cart and Enmu won’t introduce himself until you're the most vulnerable. Probably with food still being chewed in your mouth he pops up right next to you. 

“Hi there (Y/n)-sama!”

You won’t react considering as Exotica you have people (Daki) hanging on you invasively all the time. He’ll frown, annoyed he didn’t see your annoyed or scared expression. You keep your poise with him because you know how much of a wild card he was. And he is silently getting more annoyed. 

He’ll quite aggressively send you to sleep enjoying your dream of your old world. He’s intrigued by this development and will be even more surprised when you eventually break out of it. Thinking you’ll have to deal with a more unhinged Rui instead you’re met with the exact opposite. 

“Hah~truly divine~you are perfect for him~!”

Prostrated at the foot of the custom-built bed he begins squirming. You naturally inch away only for him to crawl closer to you dragging his cheek along the leg you tried to keep him away with. Moving under the cloth of your yukata you push at his head as he gets closer to your crotch. Immediately he springs up cutting through the natural slit of your outfit to hold your hands. His face is revealed to have an obsessive blush overwhelming his face as he really began drooling as his tongue lolled out of his mouth moving inhumanely to lick your hand. 

By your saving grace some wandering passenger stepped inside, gasping at the display before calling out to Enmu. You could barely keep your calm persona as the demon that was previously creeping on you to change immediately. Veins popping, aquamarine eyes shrinking and his fangs showing he turned and proceeded to tear the man apart. Not bothering to eat him claiming 'it’d ruin his grand meal' as he adjusted his suit. 

You didn’t complain when Daki and Gyutarou had you back in their arms saying,”You’ll never leave us again, (Y/n)!!!” “Right, promise us you won’t leave!” “Yes it was simply awful without you!It was like torture for us.”

You’re right. it is torture.

#yandere x reader #yandere demon slayer #yandere kny #yandere kimetsu no yaiba #yandere demon slayer x exotica #exotica reader #poc reader #yandere harem #yandere enmu #yandere kyogai #yandere rui

[halloweenvalentine1997]

Pariah by Vivica Salem

In July 2020, I was released from a state mental institution after a 7 month stay. I was unable to find housing because of my felonies, and my parents didn’t want me back in their house. So a hospital van dropped me off at a local women’s homeless shelter, a brick building with a parking lot on surveillance. I spent the first day or two browsing through used paperbacks donated to the bookshelves. Sitting inside on the utilitarian bed. Going outside to chain-smoke on the blacktop. Everyone around me was talking shit and making me feel dangerous. I used the sign-out sheet to write the time and the reason for my leaving: “walk”.

So I went on a meth binge with my imaginary lovers. Swallowed it from my palm, its dust like a diamond disintegration. We lingered under the freight train bridge, smoking hit after hit with a multitude of people. As the curtain of velvet night fell over the skyscrapers, the courthouse, the smokestacks, the labyrinths, I noticed a young brown haired woman having a bad trip on a drug. She was moving erratically from side to side, and seemed to be fixated on the guy I was talking to. It’s been three years so it’s hard to recollect their faces, but I’ve been haunted by what happened ever since. The guy was around her age, also young. Both were homeless. I was very high and felt V.S., my imaginary spouse, whisper in my ear, “If she’s going to follow this guy, let’s go with her.” Me, the guy and the girl with drug-induced anxiety ended up all walking in the same direction past vacant traffic lights and darkened apartments. We made it to the river and it must have been the middle of the night. I do not understand why I wasn’t feeling any fear, but I helped her drink from a water bottle someone was holding in a vehicle by the serpentine black river. We walked further on and turned to the right through pathways of rocks and green foliage. 

A campsite with a makeshift tent soon came into view. Dismantled books were shredded by a campfire not lit; they must’ve been using the paper remains of the books to cook in the wild, to light a flame. Another girl was sleeping next to a small black kitten. I petted the kitten while I heard the guy say to the girl who followed him there, “I could throw your dead body in the river.” 

“Don’t talk like that!” I snapped.

He quit. The girl who was tripping on drugs walked away from us minutes later. She somehow made her way  through the dark, navigated all those moonlit rocks and fell asleep by a playground, where I saw her in the morning. I’ll never know why I didn’t go with her. Maybe because of the meth I was offered at the campsite. I was glad to ditch the guy, who I could see was as cold as a glacier. I was about to ascend a hill back into the downtown area when I was offered a ride. Like the people from earlier, his face is a blur and I can’t remember what we talked about, smoking meth in his truck. We went to a Motel 6, he went to get more meth and let me stay in the rented room by myself, where I shouted at the TV. I left the room briefly to go have a cigarette. I came back inside the building to discover I was locked out of my room, and my sneakers were still in the room. I told a motel staff but he wouldn’t let me back in to get them.

 “How do I know they’re your sneakers?” When I started screaming, he threatened to call security. They were ugly sneakers anyway. I left in my black socks with my valuables still intact. I walked from the motel until my feet started to burn several minutes later. I sat in the shade next to the first business I saw, a convenience store. Someone placed a bottle of strawberry soda beside me. I felt half-dead. When the staff of the convenience store noticed I was loitering, I told them what happened and why I wasn’t leaving. 

“I don’t have any shoes, and the pavement feels like walking on hot coals.”

They didn’t care. One said I was “worse than dirt”, the other employee tossed my soda bottle into the shrub by a parking space after a lecture about following rules. 

“Now you’re the one breaking the rules,” I said (feeling like laughing). “You’re littering in the bushes.”

The guy who compared me to dirt called the police on his smartphone. 

I didn’t care because it’s not like I had any drugs or weapons on me, anyway. They took a long time to respond, but someone unseen saved my ass. 

Some turquoise flip flops were tossed next to me. I thanked whoever it was profusely, put them on and left the store, never to return. I went back to the freight train bridge, thankfully not having to deal with police. I was glad to see the girl who was mistreated earlier also made her way back from the riverside and was alive. I knew I had to return to the homeless shelter. I was kicked out of there for smoking a cigarette too late at night. The place had a lot of pointless rules for no reason. I returned to my family home and found a way to reconcile things with my parents.

I’ve been sober from methamphetamine for one year. 

I don’t walk outside at night anymore.

I have two Gemini twins of mine that rest upon my shoulders.

One is dressed in black and white, the other favors red and white. 

Three years later and I realize my own identity has become a triad. 

Three years later and I’m not still locked up in jail or the psych ward.

One year without fucking up my mind on meth. 

I don’t want to leave this room. I don’t want to leave imaginary rooms. 

I want to make amends, but I don’t know how. I can’t remember most of what I did wrong.

I don’t want to be dragged through the thorns and thickets of reality anymore, entangled, pricked.

I want to replace grim shades with pastel. I want to hide (with the invisible ones I love) inside a treehouse. 

Into the woods.

Away from the lenses, the screens. 

You can’t put a wire in the trunk of a tree.

You can’t dangle one from the pines.

The only eyes in the woods are those of the wilderness creatures. 

And my own, their own, crowned with bones. 

Butterflies on shadowed violet lids.

A “Keep Out” sign on the door. 

I never want to see anybody again.

#prose #8-6-23 #mine

[the-fiction-witch]

Surprise Bath!

TV SHOW GODLESS COUPLE: WHITEY WINN X READER RATING: CUTE

I giggled as I saw whitey climbing down from ted giving him a stroke and a pet as he tied Ted up in front of the office, I giggled again tightening my grip on the bucket. I stepped softly and carefully across the dust and dirt of the La belle square, I saw maggie standing on the La belle hotel porch looking a little perplexed at what I was doing but I showed her my bucket and she smiled widely nodding. I stopped a moment waiting for a second as I picked up my bucket and threw the water all over whitey

"Suprise Bath!" I smiled

he turned to me shocked by the sudden water all over him, "Y/n." he sighed "what the fuck!" he yelled

"Bye whitey" I giggled bolting down the street with my bucket even if I know he was chasing after me.

I smiled as I stood outside the office with my large glass of water I could hear whitey talking to himself in the office mirror I waited for a little while, I pushed open the door quickly making whitey turn to me in shock his hands on his guns

"Suprise Bath!" I yelled throwing the full water jug onto his face

he had to spit out a fair amount of it that went in his mouth and gave me a look as if to say 'really y/n?'

"Hi Whitey" I smiled

"I hate you"

"Love you too" I smiled giving his cheek a kiss before I ran out of the office and back to my little house

I waited so very patiently having ridden down to the river a little earlier, and now I watched as whitey walked alongside ted heading down to the water's edge with his laundry, I waited for him to begin washing his laundry in the river making sure he was distracted as I slowly and carefully went over often having to hide behind bushes and rocks so he didn't spot me. I waited for him to be close to the edge washing one of his many jumpers when I ran over and pushed him into the river

"Surprise Bath whitey!" I giggled

"Y/n! the fuck!" he yells now sat in the river his butt and feet in the water knees up looking very angry at me soaked from head to toe

"Well now you're all clean"

"I was clean before you shoved me in the river!"

"you were not whitey. don't like me. I could smell you from my hiding rock"

"That's not a reason to try and drown me" he complained climbing out the river "why do you keep throwing water at me"

"yes it is. you can't smell yourself whitey" I giggled "I like reminding you to have a bath. but you were not good at taking hints so... Suprise Bath!"

"fine" He sighed grabbing my arm and throwing me into the river

"Ahhhh whitey!" I screamed,

"see how do you like it?"

"fine come here!" I smirked grabbing his arm and dragging him into the river with me at one point completely submerging him and of course, he started pushing me down too as we fought in the water until we ended up just sitting in the water

"If I promise to have regular baths will you stop throwing water at me?"

"Yes."

"fine. I promise"

"good" I smiled giving him a kiss "so long as you keep having your baths I won't throw water at you, and you get little kisses"

"Alright then." he sighed "I still hate you doing this to me"

"I love you too" I giggled nuzzling close to him

"Yeah I love you too. Just no more surprise Baths"

#whitey #whitey smut #whitey winn smut #whitey winn imagines #whitey winn #Godless whitey win smut #whitey winn imagine #whiteywinn #godless whitey smut #godless #godless netflix #godless imagine #godless imagines #godless smut #tbs #tbs fanfiction #tbs smut #tbs smutty #tbs sex #TBS Imagine #tbs imagines #thomas #thomas sangster #thomas brodie sangster #thomassangster #thomasbrodiesangster #thomas sangster imagine #thomas brodie sangster imagine #thomas brodie sangster i #thomas brodie sangster smut

[countrymusiclover]

21 - The Stories Weren't True

Part 22

Victor's Daughter

Tag list- @lemonluvgirl87 @virtualsweetsdreamer @emma-andrea1

I rest my chin on my knees hearing the russiling of leaves behind me. Drawing a knife I throw it on the other side of the tree hearing the gun go off afterwards. The guys picture appeared above our heads a few minutes later. Wrapping my arms around myself I rock back and forth, lifting my shacky hands I'm front of me. I just killed someone.

"No, no, please don't kill me!" I thrashed under the thin blanket of the bed screaming in my sleep. Hands reached over trying to hold me still where I keep fighting against them until I recognized the voice calling out to me. "Y/n, Y/n,. Wake up, you're not there anymore!" Shooting my eyes opened I gasped feeling my breathing slowly down. Gale's eyes are locked on mine still holding my wrists down on the bed so I can't hit him. He slowly released his grip allowing me to sit up in the bed. He rests a hand on my lower back feeling me still shacking. My hands clutching the bedsheets under my hands. "I - I was back there - the night I killed...I need to go with Katniss today - I need to go home." Gale turned my chin so ill look him in the eye. "It's not home anymore, baby...it's just.." I know he won't talk about the bombing. Especially since he blamed himself for letting my fake mother Elizabeth die.

Gale left to prepare a hovercraft while I found Katniss sitting in medical with Prim. She runs up to me and I bury my face in her hair, wrapping her in a comfortable hug. "I'm sorry Y/n. I can't imagine what you're going through." Someone clears their throat causing us to break the hug. I see a black guy who says he would escort us. Katniss and I intertwined hands getting in a elevator but my freehand slides down to the knife clipped on my hip. I don't trust anyone else here but the people from home. "We were always told there was nothing left of 13." Katniss breaths out referring to the stories in school where we were taught of the other districts. Tucking hair behind my ear I've just been leaving it loose instead of how it used to be in pigtails. "They told us that no one was left alive...that it was to be a threat to the others of what happened." The guy nods my direction opening the door. Katniss quickly runs up hugging Gale who whispered in her ear. "I can't believe you're really doing this." She simply replied taking my hand again. "We have to see it for ourselves."

The hovercraft lands where our boots banged on the metal ramp. Once the fog clears I gasped holding a hand over my mouth at the hall where our names were drawn. Now just turned to rubble in front of us. Katniss slowly started walking through the town but stops where I whispered. "What's wrong, Katniss?" She moved her foot and I nearly threw up seeing a dead skull on the ground. She covered her mouth stumbling up the hill gasping where I rushed forward. Halting in my tracks my knees give out and I drop in the dirt of thousands of skulls, scattered all down the town. "Mo - mom. I - I'm so sorry - Elizabeth this - this is my fault!" I started crying somehow picturing the screaming in my mind. All the honor and how they had no time to prepare at all. Weakly we managed to get to the victory house and I scoffed seeing that it's the only thing standing completely fine. Katniss walks around picking up her families things but I stop walking hearing something coming. Launching my knife towards the window, it sticks in the wall right above Buttercups head. The cat meows at me where I slump my shoulders thankfully I didn't kill Prim's cat. Katniss picks him up putting him in her bag but he growled never liking her.

"You should try and eat something." Gale suggests resting a hand over mine as we eat dinner. Leaning back in my chair I shutter out in shock. "I don't think I can, Gale - I can't stomach that Celestia is related to that man." He sighed pulling my head to lay against his chest, arms draped around me. During my nightmares the first few weeks we were here I dreamed of Snow or someone killing her. Ending up I had to tell Gale that our friendship wasn't just an act, it's real. Katniss really just picked at her food on her tray until the announcement came on from the Capital. Lifting my head up a little I see Flickerman on the screen wearing a black tux. "Here's someone to shed some light on what really happened in the Quarter Quell. Please welcome Mr. Peeta Mellark." She slowly rose to her feet stopping as close as she can to the screen. Pushing myself up I drop my mouth opened picturing that Snow had killed him after my father said he was still in the Capital. Petta's hair is neat and he's wearing a white tux broadcasting this to every district. "It seems as though she and her friend Y/n were part of a rebel plan." Flickerman questions the boy where he shakes his head no is disagreement.

Gale squeezes my hand in his as I don't move my eyes from the screen. It sickened me to see his dressed like that again. The Capital must be doing something else to him I just don't know what. "Well was it part of either of their plans to almost be killed by Joanna or get killed by lightning. No we were not part of any rebel plan. We had no idea what was going on!" Peeta threw his hands up pausing in his speech. "I want everyone who's watching to stop and to think about what a civil war could mean. We almost went out once before and now one numbers are even fewer. Is this really what we want to do, kill ourselves off. Killing is not the answer. Everyone needs to lay down their weapons immediately." District 13 citizens started shouting that he's a traitor and that he can't be trusted anymore. Katniss turns on her heels running out of the room. Jumping to my feet I chased after her but bumped into a body, feeling arms grab me so I don't fall. "Finnick?" I questioned up to him. He let's me stand on my own, running his fingers through his hair. Frantically looking everywhere around me for some reason. "We need to talk alone...it's about her, Celestia."

Comments really appreciated ❤️

#victor's daughter #gale hawthorne x abernathy reader #gale hawthorne x reader fanfiction #gale hawthorne x reader #liam hemsworth #katniss everdeen #jennifer lawrence #primrose everdeen #peeta mellark #haymitch abernathy x daughter reader #haymitch abernathy #woody harrelson #the hunger games #catching fire #mockingjay part 2 #mockingjay part 1 #mockingjay #wattpad fanfiction #ask box is open for feedback #comments really appreciated

[screechthemighty]

Okay, so, the plan for memories of mother is that I’ll be working on pre and post Kratos fics simultaneously so I can make progress in my outline while also getting to write the stuff I’m most impatient to write. So...here’s something I cooked up for Faye’s past history. This is also the fic I was writing with Hadestown as the background music, so brace yourselves, I guess. AO3 link will be in a reblog!

rose colored boy: part one

Everyone all right?

She’d asked the question so many times that it didn’t feel like three words anymore. It was one singular word with the same meaning: everyoneallright? Most were, thank their ancestors. Some in shock, some crying, some quiet with pained acceptance. But physical injuries were low, especially when you considered they’d survived a landslide. Not Aesir, for once, but a fight between two troll clans. Faye had known better than to try and break it up, especially when the nearby town was at risk. A few rocks had started flying already by the time she got there.

Faye tried not to focus on the damage, instead focusing on the fact that no one had died. They could rebuild. At least it wasn’t Thor.

How bad had things become that at least it wasn’t Thor was a legitimate upside?

“How are you?” she asked. A cluster of three giants huddled in the cave together. This trio was especially covered in sawdust and dirt. They must have barely avoided being hit. “Everyone all right?”

“Ah, Amund took a bit of a knock on the head,” said one of them. Her voice was calm, but her eyes were still distant, worried. “He’s talking, but it’s still blood.”

“Head wounds bleed a lot,” Faye said reassuringly. She turned her attention to Amund. He had dark eyes, which made seeing his pupils difficult in the low light. “Can we move him a little closer to the entrance? I just want to make sure he wasn’t hit too hard.”

Amund could walk. His eyes focused as they got closer to the light, moving at the same speed. All good signs. “Okay…” Faye helped him sit down again. “Here, let me take a look at that head wound-”

“You’re beautiful,” Amund breathed.

Faye froze.

This wasn’t the first time a man had told her that. Usually, though, it was a bit more calculated. The approach, the phrasing, all of it carefully constructed to get a positive reaction out of her. Amund, on the other hand, spoke as if Göndul of the Valkyries had landed right in front of him: earnest, even awed.

Which was ridiculous, because Faye was definitely covered in a thin layer of dirt herself and hadn’t tended to her hair in…damn. How long? Point being, she’d looked worse, but she’d also looked better. She glanced at the other giants with him. They looked just as baffled as she did, and a bit embarrassed for him. “...okay,” Faye said. “Yeah, let me look at that head wound.”

He did, at least, move his hand away. It was a good sized cut, but the bleeding had slowed, and it looked like someone had already cleaned it. “Has his speech been slurred?” Faye asked.

“I don’t think so? He…”

“I’m Amund,” the giant interrupted.

“She knows, Amund.”

“What’s your name?”

“Amund.”

“Speech definitely not slurred,” Faye said, trying not to get too flustered. He was still staring at her. “Do you feel nauseous? Like you’re going to throw up?”

“No, the cut just stings,” Amund said.

“Well, let someone know if you start feeling worse, all right? We don’t want you dying on us.” She smiled at him and his friends before awkwardly starting to move away.

“Wait!” Amund called after her. “Wait, I have to know your name!”

Amund’s friends shushed him. Faye felt her ears start to go red. How hard did he hit his head? she thought.

Hopefully not too hard. They really couldn’t afford to lose more giants.

.

It had taken some adjustment, but Faye was starting to like it in the Mountain.

She was surprised by how much of a cultural center it was. The mining was certainly a centerpiece, but there was a lot of art, too. Sculpture, painting, music. Faye found herself drawing a lot more whenever she had free time. It was a nice change of pace, drawing things that were unrelated to her dreams.

She was drawing that afternoon, carefully copying down the elaborate spirals and knots of a nearby carving. That kind of work had always been harder for her to pull off without a reference. If she could just get her mind to slow down enough and let her practice…

“Excuse me?”

Faye looked up, then did a double-take. She knew the man in front of her. She knew she knew him, but she couldn’t immediately remember how. “Can I help you?” Faye asked.

The man–brown skin, dark curly hair, dark eyes that felt the most familiar–stood a respectful distance away, carefully holding a tagelharpa. “We…met a few weeks ago, I don’t know if you remember. After the troll fight? I’m Amund.”

Oh! “Right, yeah, I remember,” Faye said. She felt her blush start to return. Damn, she’d picked a bad time to shade the sides of her head. It looked good, but now there was no hiding her embarrassment. “How’s, uh, how’s your head?”

“It’s fine. Don’t think it did any permanent damage.” Amund grinned sheepishly. “Actually, uhm, I wanted to apologize for how I acted. I was an idiot, I’m sure I made you uncomfortable…I’m really sorry.”

She hadn’t expected that. Honestly, she’d been bracing herself for more flirting. “Well…you did hit your head pretty hard, so I think I can forgive you,” Faye said. “I mean it, don’t worry about it.”

Amund nodded; she thought she could still see some lingering embarrassment in his eyes. “And thank you for what you for us,” he added. “It meant a lot.”

That definitely wasn’t helping her blush. Faye still wasn’t sure how to respond to thanks. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to be thanked. She was just doing what anyone ought to: protecting her people. “You’re welcome,” she ended up saying, because that was what you were supposed to say when you were thanked. “It’s why I’m here.”

Amund nodded again. She saw his eyes flicker to her journal, a spark of interest lighting up at the image there. He smothered it just as quickly. “Well, I won’t keep you. Good luck with all the…trolls, and such.” Amund tried to wave, nearly dropped his instrument, and cursed quietly to himself as he retreated.

Faye bit back a laugh–not a mocking one, but a sympathetic one. She’d made more than her fair share of uncomfortable exits before. “Be safe!” she called after him.

Amund glanced over his shoulder to give her one last smile.

It had been a little awkward, certainly, but Faye found herself grateful for the exchange. She hadn’t had the chance to check on the people from that town, though she knew most had ended up in the Mountain. If Amund was well, there was a good chance the others were as well.

She’d take all the good news she could get.

#god of war #god of war faye #laufey the just #fic: rose colored boy

[dbssh]

-never takes off that stupid blue bodysuit

-always sweaty

-born rich so you know hes never cleaned his own house a day in his life

-always blowing shit up for his gay little temper tantrums

-made of rocks

-eats garbage

-would probably earnestly try to clean or at least not make a mess but hes stupid and ridiculously fucking large

-would leave human experiment fluid everywhere

-no regard for lab safety

-only eats granola bars and smoothies

-showers exactly once a week no matter what

-the underside of her nails is crusty as fuck. dont let her cook.

-thinks shes too good to clean up after herself

-drinking problem probably

-would at least pay someone else to clean so i dont have to do it either

-good personal hygiene so that automatically ranks her higher than most people on this list

-do i even have to say anything here. the man throws jars of his own piss at people

-harrow too busy bleeding out of her ears and not having a full frontal lobe

-i think ianthe would suicide bomb the entire spaceship before doing a single dish

-that facepaint is probably narsty as fuck

-ianthe secretes a natural protective layer of grease like some sort of slug or perhaps frog

-ianthe would say she'll "help" with the chores but she just sits on a counter and talks at me while i do it

-smells like fish

-i would beef with alphys if we were living together because i just know she leaves trash and horny anime merchandise everywhere. thats not undynes fault but we would fight over it and i would threaten to leave the polycule if she didnt get her shit together.

-sweaty but in a hot dyke way

-armor probably smells rank but i believe she would take decent care of it

-smells and tastes like straight cigarettes

-does not shower

-does not brush her hair

-does not clean her armor

-probably covered in blood smoke and dirt all the time

-would "wash" the dishes but they would still be visibly dirty but she put them away anyways because they went through the dishwasher even though the cheap dishwasher in our cruddy apartment only works if the dishes are basically already clean before going in and no matter how many times i explain this she still doesnt get why its such a big deal

-good in bed so ill let it slide

#red.txt #long post

[e11evenfiftyseven]

Rothmans Blue

Two

My covers shift.

The smell of cigarettes and aftershave still linger in my room as I wake up for real this time. The image of Soap over me, the gleam of his tags, however, lingers harder.

I dress quickly for the day, slide on my shoes and make at attempt at a put together hair style. Last night runs though my head as I make my way down to the mess hall, though this is not at all an unusual circumstance. Though Soap was confusing in how he communicated, there was comfort in that confusion. It was hard and convoluted, but once you knew, you knew. I have always had a penchant for solving a challenge that could be considered... none of my business.

I try to sneak into the large room undetected, but working with a bunch of special operators that nears impossibility.

I scan the room causally for a familiar frame as I head into line. I find him, after shuffling forward for a while. He leans against a wall, talking to Ghost. They chit chat and I refocus on getting something to eat. There is nothing to wonder about, as soon as I sit down, Soap will notice and head my way.

I'm through the line shortly enough and Soap is no longer talking to Ghost. I find a seat, ready to eat, and as I pick up my fork-

"Lass."

I look up, beginning on my breakfast. "How was your night?" I ask, after swallowing a bite.

"Left somethin' to be desired, truth be told." He

sits in front of me, cheekily smiling as he rests his head on his propped up hand.

"Really," chatter echoes around the room, I take some time to push food around my plate. "Like what?"

Soap's gaze is no longer on me, but surveils around the room. I watch one side of his face twitch in amusement. "Not sure. Might be something I figure out tonight with a smoke."

I nod and pick at my food. I take a look at my watch.

Shit.

"I gotta go," I say mouth full. "Supposed to meet Roach." I grab my things quickly as Soap gives me an indecipherable look. I pay him little mind, now that I realize how behind I am. I throw out my trash and book it to the gym.

"Gary?" I peek in the squeaky gym doors. I find him over by the leg press.

"Hi Eli," he smiles through a rep.

"How's it going?"

He grunts. "It's going good, I think. I'm sure Soap's said something, huh?"

I sigh. "You know how it is. He's always keeping an eye on everything. He worries."

Gary nods and after a while, stands and wipe some sweat from his brow. "Ready?"

I take a large sip from my water bottle and sigh. "I guess so. You know cardio is not my favorite."

We head out the door for the dirt path that runs through the grounds. It is a common spot that often has us bumping into others, and thus slowing us down. We were always secretly grateful for any pause in our cardio venture for the day, but when training to catch up, it tends to be less ideal.

"So what's going on?" I ask him, referring to his less than stellar PT performance.

Dirt crunches under his feet as he mulls the question over. Gary is not by any means lazy or apathetic. "It's just been rough." He says, watching the path in front of him. "Since I fell and cracked my rib, things have just haven't been the same."

I nod, remembering Gary's very terrifying slip. He was jumping to catch a helo on exfil, slipped, and hit himself in the ribs. He managed to climb up, but was on bedrest for weeks and weeks, and during that time, he atrophied. It wasn't terrible or drastic by any means, but it definitely caused a noticeable difference in Gary's abilities.

"That's understandable," I tell him, and wipe sweat from my brow. We slow a little as the trail winds into a grove of trees and the soil becomes more uneven. Roots and rocks litter the path, offering a twisted ankle at the sight of any carelessness.

We finish out the loop, and I check the timer as Roach flips the light on. "Not bad," I tell him. "We're down from last week."

He looks surprised.

I smile as I pack my things up to head back to the barracks. "Just so you know, Gary, I've heard rumors of some of the guys betting on your placement when you run the course tomorrow." I shrug my gym bag over my shoulder.

He looks at me for a moment, once again processing. "Thanks," he tells me, with a quick nod of his head.

I pick up my room mindlessly, finally growing tired of the piles of clothes towels, makeup and the like crowding the floor and my desk. I keep an eye on the time, knowing I'd soon have to make an appearance for dinner. After I left the gym, things moved slowly for once, allowing me some time to deal with my mess. I throw the last few things in my laundry basket and half assedly organize my makeup and brushes as a knock on my door pulls me out of my focus.

"It's open," I say, wiping the entirety of my arm across my desk in an effort to collect the fine layer of makeup dust that laid on the surface. I wipe my arm off as Soap appears behind the door. "You coming to dinner?" He asks with a tilted head.

"Yeah, was just picking up a little." I follow him down the hall and grab a quick meal.

The room is lively as always, the sunset casting light across the room from the wall-spanning windows. The sun burns a bright scarlet, almost blinding on the horizon. I take a table in front of the window that doesn't stay lonely very long. When I sit down, Soap sits down. When Soap sits down everyone else begins to follow suit. Before too long, our entire side of the room is filled.

Ghost and Soap taking turns telling me two sides of the same story. I smile and stretch, having finished my dinner quite a while ago. The vibrant, thickly painted sky behind me has faded much more now, a calmer scene, dark purples and light blues permeating a pink stronghold near the fading sun.

For the rest of the room though, the same could not be said. Rancorous laughter and loud voices bounced off the walls. If anything, they grew louder with the growing hour.

Even with the growing noise, I can hear the door slam open. Everyone's head whips to the source, and the joy drains from the room.

Price looks around the room holding a yellow cream colored folder so tightly his knuckles turn white.

I look at Soap, and I know to worry.

#john mactavish #soap mactavish #modern warfare #call of duty #john soap mactavish #modern warfare x you #modern warfare fanfiction #cod mwii #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #mwii #Spotify

[fionnaskyborn]

1,2, and 7 for a halo character of your choosing?

I'd like to thank you for giving me the freedom to choose from anyone in Halo, because that means I get to talk about my most niche choice when it comes to favorite characters, and that is Gage Yevgenny from the Dirt short story.

1: My first impression of them

Reading about Gage made me sad from the get-go because, hey, that's what happens when you first learn of someone's existence while they're drawing their last breaths. I found it painful and a bit funny that he decided to tell his entire life story to Rook in the middle of a crisis (and heartwarming, because Rook sat through all of it without cutting him off once, but this is about Gage), so I was eager to hear out what he had to say. I found the dirt talk to be quite relatable to a certain extent, which contributed to me liking him! So, TL;DR: I was sad because he was dying, and understanding of his reasons to leave Harvest.

2: When I think I truly started to like them (or dislike them, if you've sent me a character I don't like)

I re-read Dirt to answer this question properly, but if we're being honest here, I think I started liking him right off the bat, as soon as he was introduced. If I had to make a guess, I'd say this passage sealed the deal for me:

“I’ve been doing this so long, rook, that somewhere along the line I forgot what it was all about,” the Marine on the ground hissed into the reflective visor. “But what I want you to remember about me is that it has been a long journey between where I started and where I’m sitting now. I would apologize for the things I’ve done, but sorry’s passed me by, rook. You don’t see the things I’ve seen and come out sorry. But sometimes, if you’re not a complete monster, you come out realizing what’s important.”

7: A quote of them that you remember

There are two that I remember from the very end of the story with fondness so great I can't choose one over the other, so I hope two is alright!

“Years ago, I told my father it was ‘just dirt.’ But it’s not dirt. It’s where we live. It our dirt, dammit. And more importantly, it’s about who’s standing on that dirt. Those children. Your family. Your friends.”

"Promise me something, rook?” (“Anything.”) “You’ll fight the Covenant all the way. Even if they land on Earth. You’ll fight them even if you have to throw rocks at them."

The second quote isn't as, well, full of feeling for humanity as the first (both quotes are about caring for humanity, yes, but the sentiments are not the same), but there is so much resolve in that last line, and when you realize that it strengthened Rookie's resolve to fight against the Covenant - not to kill an enemy, but to protect a friend - it hits even harder.

#ask/reblog game tag #halo #thank ye for sending in an ask!! and thank you for the delightful answers about murphy #swamppossum (aka stumpy)

[wcmcink]

notes in three parts

notes i took on my phone in 3 parts

1.

& the mountains underneath the cover of a sunset... i'm looking out the window/ like a doorway into a photograph & organizing the pennies on my desk into petrine crosses         & it's hard to tell the nighttime from a close friend it's just an outfit, you can take it off a way of being in the world not so much but when that outfit reflects a way of being in the world/ watch out! i wonder if the same holds true for systems & design... you can take it off it doesn't reflect the soul of the matter everything has a use & a purpose & i sit  just like this to conduct my investigation: i've been going this way & there's nothing i can do but rest easy with the decisions i've made yeah, we'll all be gone before we know it." in the blow up doll world full of blow up things it's good that someone's filling up the silence with pointless conversation all the way down to the slumlords on hoover advertising student housing "you came in at fig," yeah i get it, everything means something there's a bit of a schoolboy confusion over what to say & i wish someone would come by smoking a cigarette & then i could bum one & everything would be alright... get on board with the made up universe dick tracy can have anything he wants you understand? to bad he wants to fight crime in palookaville... i don't know what's happening to me i can't force myself to cry  'cus i'm not sad but it scares me meanwhile i aspire to a challenging definition of spam...          "what is this?" (husband over the shoulder of his wife) "not quite sure, i think i'll throw it away." (using his index finger to follow through) "makes sense, i'm really not quite sure what i'm reading either."  they are rough poems in the outline of your face

2.

all relationships between people are arrangements of some sort this doesn't mean they are void  of genuine emotion in fact, it would be a better arrangement if they had genuine emotion... now to clean it up some impatient for a microwave the malicious intention of stray comments void of emotion while i'm holding your hand she's gonna find a shotgun buried in the cabinet, "well, that's a window into a dark room..." i'm kind of into the fantasy of it all the late nights the neon signs in front of midnight restaurants  a real greasy spoon, a cigarette, & a cup of coffee  the many vagaries of the institution are hard to navigate he's singing, "i was born in a storm..." just like i'm somewhat aware of this not being what you wanted to hear  i'm not really into the big things here although i know it's something to talk about when we are having dinner/ all about this pocket book of loose verses... right now: i'm writing a sentence with my right hand & performing it with my left that scratchy sound & screeching voice "playing that rock & roll music" beneath the letter of the moon

3.

dry cleaning & shopping carts & supermarket parking lots & smile 'cus you don't know what it means... i wake up sing my songs scratch the dirt & resin off my face & write these swollen verses & for some reason that requires an audience... at the corner of good shit & right on there's a decent compromise to be made like a dead skin that fits over a dead animal leaving it with a toothy grin thoughts come in waves, no...dualistic impulses that cut  both ways "sometimes, i feel like smacking your head like a swizzle stick."      it's ten in the morning & already the day is getting away from me little by little comes the fall not in whole but in part given to the vicissitudes of a twisted heart...   morning & its tergiversations  i don't know if that word is really necessary not just because i don't know what it means: "to change ones loyalties, become apostate" or it's difficult to use in a sentence it's just extra, you know tergiversations  perfect for a friday morning noise carries through my hearing aids & the din of a half empty room hits me like a brick i'm sitting in a meeting house: "thinking i understand things well enough to figure them out." that's what the guy says, it's smart, you know, i wonder if he practiced beforehand... this is the philosophy of a fractured state when we're out of clever replies & our little defenses we all feel similar & certain situations strike us the same although the response is different every comment, every gesture has an orientation & point of view & this precludes action of any kind thinking of each thing & what it means & where it's going & what will come of it... "what will you do?" "i dunno, smoke a couple cigarettes, think about the conversation we just had... how we create in the clearing of what we are patently not able to do... leaving gently what is left what we are able to do & who we are" "blood & sand" is a cocktail, "blood & soil" is the nazi era program to return german citizens to farmland... & other things i must remember but i have no time for dewy-eyed maidens in the backroom, "it's always like this, he'll probably write that down to, he has no idea what should remain a thought & what should be put down on paper... holy shit, that's a great poem." still we hold fast to our beliefs even if it means wearing a pirates hat in the middle of los angeles it's satan re-imagined as another life form maybe an uprooted yellow flower in a science fiction movie... bending towards the sun on a rainy day..."i'm so happy when i'm on my own" the flower says, (could it be described as bright, shaking its petals in consternation yearning for the sun?) surely, something i can ask my phone later, like what's "i love you" in french. or did the giants win? or find my italy trip last month & set a meeting for nine... tell him i'm on my way.

[ggstargetedlife]

Graced by the strength of God, I got through this day a bit more psychologically whole than days of recent, despite the continued persecution against me. I purposely stayed busy, doubling my efforts most times I was blasted. As tired as I've been, I refused to retreat to my bed to go to sleep as urged repeatedly via V2K. I kept right on working, doing chores around the house and checking in with my aunt when it was time. Push, push, push, I did, determined to remain stabilized and productive. Whenever I did choose to relax a bit, I kept the music pumping through my earbuds and read books on my phone.

Worked on my room a bit, or as Angel has taken to calling it, HER room. Got all the spots off the wall. Tomorrow I'll wash it down so I can begin putting up some of her decorations in the new theme we have planned. I won't feel bad over throwing away the navy blue rugs I just bought a year ago. They've started to look cheap. I suppose vaccuming them rather than shaking the dust and dirt out didn't help matters either. Ahhh well. Time for fancier replacements.

Amazingly, I was able to tune out a bit more on the V2K, relying a lot on Grey-Rocking whenever I did feel the need to mentally respond.

Most of it's just been the same ole same ole script anyway from their end. Thinking too much and too hard on it all is depressing so I tried not to as much today, focusing instead on just surviving each day at a time. One day it'll all be over and I'll be completely in God's hands; no one can keep you from death, so just have to "tough" it out until then.

I came outback to chill with a cigarette. No sooner than I did, the B.Y. neighbors came out too because you know, it's not enough they torment me through V2K and DEW's. They still follow the usual pattern of "joining" me outside when I go out. Why? I have no clue. They could stay in their house V2King me all day and night as they usually do. This time though, in addition to continuing the V2K, they cooped up in their backyard and began smoking weed to further get my attention. They know I can't stand that smell. I once complained to dad about it a while back. He just shrugged and said they always do that whether in the backyard or the front yard, as do another particular set of neighbors close to our house. Call me a pussy, I'd actually been hoping he'd snitch them out to the cops to have them shutdown lol If they weren't doing it to try and aggravate me, I wouldn't mind as much. After all, their business is theirs. But I know they're doing it on purpose as instructed by their superiors, all because they know I hate it. Anything I dislike or hate in general they run like a ticker tape, always. Never the things I like or love. Talk about petty-minded sleazy losers.

Besides that, the B.Y. neighbors weed always smells like what my former coworkers at Sunshine used to refer to as "Skunk's weed." The cheap stuff you can smell from a mile away. My god. Smfh. There's literally a cloud emanating from their backyard into Kim's and ours. Like, Jesus Christ folks.

But it's whatever. Earlier, they made a comment referring to Brinley. It isn't sitting well with me nor J, but I'll leave it alone. For now. When they inevitably piss me off again, I might rant about it a little. Maybe. Hell, he isn't as closely involved anymore in this shit with the Elites so it shouldn't matter really. He's been reduced to Watcher status.

Anyhow, it's been an alright day for once. Gotta get up and do it aaaaallllll over again tomorrow. Oh the joys of living 🙄

#targeted individual #v2k #directed energy weapons #gangstalking

[my-dog-ate-my-pronouns]

Venting (TW: SA, SH, Family Trauma)

I love it when people are talking about their trauma near me bc it sounds so MELLOW to me, and I just sit there and have to remind myself that the fact a girl I hung out with and she was like family and was a bit older than me teaching me to hold a hose up to myself so "It felt like a real Penis" and her slapping my ass while I did it, (She did it too) and she watched me do just as she told and make out with the pool walls wasn't okay and just because when I told my older "Sister" (Brother, moms kid, had a sister who was his dads kid) who was a few years older than me, she didn't freak out, doesn't make it any better because the "Game" we used to play was her putting a pillow between my fucking legs and showing me what to do, and say to it to 'Feel good' while she did the same and watched me!

But I've never accepted any of this as sexual assault/abuse because I was so young and thought it was just bonding time. It happened multiple time and made my brain decide that being hypersexual as a FUCKING COPING MECHANISM was a good idea.

I was in KINDERGARTEN and rubbing my thighs together while staring at my crush because that's what these two (separately) taught me you did if you liked someone. I was a CHILD.

And no, no one in my family does know about this. Because I never resented one of them (pool one) before, except when she was being a fucking bitch to me* so why should I now? She probably doesn't even remember it. But it's one of the ONLY THINGS I REMEMBER BEFORE THIRD GRADE! Plus, I love her like family and I'd still hang out with her. And be her friend.

But the other one? No. She's a fucking cunt** and if I EVER see her again, I will bash her brains in and sell her bone marrow, and use the money from it to buy a scalpel and collect her skin to make a FUCKING LAMP SHADE and then soak her in salt to watch her suffer.

Thank you for listening. I feel like throwing up, because all these different memories s are coming to play and I can remember so much, so vividly. It hurts

Also. * I was at her house once and she started screaming at me, her friend joined in, they made me start sobbing so I rode my bike to my house, they started throwing rocks at me and made me dump my bike, skin my knee, and she threatened to beat me with a hammer. (All because I wanted the rock she was holding) So I screamed bloody murder for my brother and his friends came over and helped me to my house, and wouldn't leave my side until they knew I was safe. One of them (they were twins that I will tell you more about over the next few months) went to scold them, tell their parents, ladida. The other made sure my knee was okay (still in the middle of the dirt road I grew up on) and was my shield from the few rocks they were still throwing. Eventually, they brought me home, and one carried my bike!

And ** She accused family members of stuff they didn't do, emotionally manipulated us all to get what she wanted, did a fuck ton, made me suicidal TWICE, and more.

But yeah. Main stream media focuses on Men Assaulting Women. Some people talk about Women Assaulting Men. Some even talk about Men Assaulting Men! I have heard NO ONE EVER talk about Women Assaulting Women (I'm genderfluid) so I thought it was all in my head. It's not.

I'm remembering more and more of my child hood everyday, this has been on my mind for a week and a half.

[burnedbyshoto]

the bodyguard

— Kirishima gets assigned to be the bodyguard to one of the worlds greatest idols: you. —

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pairing: bodyguard!kirishima eijirou x idol!reader

warnings: nsfw, 18+, brat taming, authority kink, spanking, blowjob, slapping, choking, brat taming, brat!reader, modern!au, no quirks, bodyguard!kirishima, idol!reader, PTSD portrayal, anxiety, war flashbacks, implied minor character death, drugging, alcohol consumption, size difference: kirishima is 2 feet taller than you, regardless of the reader’s original height. If you’re 6 ft congrats he’s 8 ft.

word count: 20,500

a/n: this is for the bnharem collab.... im so sorry, it’s 4:30 am and I have a plane to catch in 2 hours to get back to school. thank you jo for proofreading this for me because lol I am a mess. if the paragraph spacing did not work as I wish it does, please let me know so I can go in and edit in visible paragraph spacers!

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“I’ll be okay.”

The smell of dirt, sweat, and blood clung to the air.

The sun was setting, its blood-red shine illuminating against the destroyed earth, making the already bloodied soil even bloodier. 

There was no telling if the land was quiet, if the reason why the world's silence was because the world just for this moment had gone silent, or if the earlier explosions were still ringing in his ears.

Kirishima sat wounded, his back pressed to the wall, his eyes wide, breathing erratic. He can’t move, can’t bother picking up the gun that lays abandoned by his knee as warm, sticky liquid spills onto his clothed knees and continues to soak the fabric of his jeans.

What had he done?

What in the fucking world had he done?!

BOOM!

Kirishima stills, his eyes stilling on the floor and looking at the clear moisture. He doesn’t need to touch his face to know it’s a combination of both sweat and tears. 

His ears sing with white noise, the erratic beat of his heart, and his pained breathing.

“I’ll be okay,” the ghost taunts his mind.

But I’m not okay, Kirishima tries to speak, but knows with how his tongue is sitting like a thick dried sponge in his mouth, he won’t be able to speak. Pushing off the cold floor, flops onto his back, his arm flinging over his closed, shaken eyes until the ringing in his ear disappears into his alarm clock. 

05:30.

Kirishima lays there for a bit more, his chest still heaving heavily with the weight of lead.

Inhale.

Hold.

Exhale.

Better?

No, not yet.

Kirishima runs through breathing exercises, his chest never stopping in it’s hiccuped, broken pants as his memories continue to haunt his mind. If only he was smarter, more observant, better.

“Time to get up, time to get up, time to get up,” his phone screams with his second alarm set at 06:45. The sound does what it’s intended, jolting Kirishima out of his own head. His labored breathing shallowing just enough for his lungs to finally grasp ahold of its required function.

Today was an important day for him; he needed to be on his tiptop game, according to what Toshinori said yesterday.

I’m okay, he convinced himself as he does every morning after having this dream. Kirishima flings his arm off his eyes, the morning purple sun shining softly through his blinds. I’m okay.

Date: 4/2 Time: 08:00 Location: UA Services

“And in other news, music industries princess Y/n has been attacked by yet another round of masked perpetrators. Fortunately for the music idol, she was left unhurt but was clearly rattled. This is but the fourth attack on Y/n since three weeks ago. It’s leaving many of us fans, spectators, and civilians wondering just what is being done to ensure her safety? Y/n is reported to not have a single bodyguard to her name, wanting to quote-on-quote ‘experience her fans to the fullest’, but with these recent attacks, we can’t help but hope something is done. At least until something is done about these attackers—”

Kirishima’s eyes tore away from the screen, his lips pressed into a deep frown as he took in the story. There was deep worry about it, not only because he hated the idea of people getting hurt, but because he was a big fan of yours.

Your debut album had come out during his training camp for the military. Not only was it an instant billboard smasher breaking every standing record, but his commanding officers were obsessed with the album and played it continuously until they graduated. Most of Kirishima’s comrades came to dislike your music solely because they remember throwing up, bleeding, and suffering while you sang about love and whatnot, but Kirishima? Kirishima fell in love.

It was a bright spot in his life, and he was grateful for your music, even if it has been ten years and six albums since the training camp.

“Yo, Kiri!” a voice cheered out happily as a hand clasped onto his shoulder from behind. Kirishima held the flinch that threatened to rip through his bones. Kirishima turned to find Kaminari grinning up at him, a cup of steaming tea in one hand as he grinned brightly at his coworker. “I heard you’re finally getting a good case today!”

Kirishima found himself relaxing at the sight of his rather spontaneous friend, a warm smile easing onto his face as he raised his fist for a greeting fist bump.

“We’ll see, I know Toshi’ said it was going to be important, but he also said escorting the paranoid old lady was important,” Kirishima sighed, his smile softening a bit.

Kaminari laughed, his arm slinging around Kirishima’s shoulders as he remembered that.

The little old lady was sure that the government was out to kill her and wanted protection until her son returned from his vacation. Needless to say, Kirishima had thoroughly enjoyed his time with her, even if she was a bit scary. It was a low-risk job, and he only was paranoid by her cane, which she used to thwack his back many times as she talked about how plums extended your life.

“God, I remember subbing in for you for one hour because of your family emergency, and she was so scary! She still haunts my nightmares!” Kaminari shudders, placing the cup of his tea to his lip and taking a long, slow drink. His eyes shift over to the TV, which is still broadcasting the story of your attack. “What a bunch of bastards,” he growls, eyebrows scrunching as the news reporter ends the segment. “Thinking they can go after such a beautiful and talented idol… I’ll kill them.”

Kirishima was more than well aware of Kaminari’s plentiful budding romances. The blond man fell in love with just about any smiling woman who happened to waltz in front of him. Still, unlike most times, he found himself agreeing with him.

“It sounds really serious. I hope that she really considers some type of security team,” Kirishima inputs too, taking the teacup in his fingers with a nod of thanks. “There’re too many weirdos in Japan and in the world, I wouldn’t want to hear the news the day something bad happens.”

Kaminari hums, his face nearing Kirishima’s as he takes a small sip of the apparently black tea. His eyes scrunch, and Kirishima smiles awkwardly as the blond studies him intently.

“W-Wha—”

“You like Y/n!” Kaminari exclaims (accuses, maybe?), his arm leaving Kirishima’s shoulders as he points a finger accusingly at him. “I thought I was the only one in this department who did!”

“Don’t be an idiot, Denki,” the familiar voice of Sero responds for Kirishima. “Everyone in the world is in love with Y/n; she was voted the favorite artist of the year in our company. Everyone but Bakugou voted for her if I remember correctly.”

Kirishima looks over at his black-haired friend who is rummaging through his locker, his mouth curved into an easy, teasing smile as he looks between the bashful Kaminari and sneering Bakugou, who also seemed to just walk in.

“Her shit is basic and overrated,” Bakugou defended himself. “Nothing special and bad for your brain and ears.”

“Your go-to music playlist is fifty percent death metal and alt. rock. I don’t think you have ground to say that it’s bad for your brain and ears,” Midoriya’s snicker sounded from behind Kirishima, and he looked around to see the freckled man grinning at the snarling ash blond.

“And how does your stalker ass know that, shitnerd?!”

“‘Cause I’m a stalker, duh.”

“Oh, Bakugou-kun, Midoriya-kun! You’re both here! Todoroki-kun is looking for you!”

“I’m just saying that Y/n’s dates to all the award shows and premieres have been blond. She’s into blonds, so she would totally be into me!”

“Deku, if you don’t shut up, I’m going to kill you myself.”

“You wouldn’t even be able to protect Y/n, bro. The only thing you performed well on in the application process was the tasing part. You can’t even tase people repetitively! She’d be dead in a second.”

“Can you believe my client dropped me because I couldn’t cook a five-star meal correctly? Hello, I can make 7-11 into a five-star course; it’s not my fault they’re not refined.”

“Kirishima-kun, are you okay?”

“I deadass got into a dance competition on the way to work. That’s why I’m late, why would I lie? Of course, I had to compete; my reputation was on the line!”

“Kirishima-kun?”

“Yo, he’s not looking too hot?”

“Kirishima?!”

“Can you hear us?!”

Silence.

Kirishima found himself opening his eyes — when had he closed them? For a moment, the air turned coppery, his body feeling weak, and he thought he felt something heavy on his lap. But that wasn’t right; he was standing up, he wasn’t sitting down. Most importantly, he was in Tokyo, Japan. He was alright. He was safe.

The sweat that clung to the back of his neck was cold, clammy, and intrusive. His chest felt tight again, his hands shaking so harshly the tea's warm, dark liquid was sloshing onto the floor.

There were seven pairs of eyes on him, each a different color, each swimming with concern and other emotions. Kirishima knew his ears weren’t working right now, his face unable to meet his brain's screaming demands to smile, and he watched as their mouths moved as they questioned his sanity.

He was okay.

He was okay.

He was okay.

“Kirishima?”

Kirishima looked up, his neck craning to the side to see a tall, skinny man standing at the doorway. 

Toshinori Yagi was an esteemed bodyguard, one of the best in the industry, which was saying something considering that most bodyguards went unknown and unnamed. According to Google, Toshinori gained the nickname All Might after saving multiple political and celebrity lives when the government could not. It was long after his prime, and the man had retired but has since filled as the company’s head — thus why this job was near impossible to get.

Kirishima heaved a breath, realizing that he hadn’t taken a single breath when Toshinori’s bruised eyes narrowed in his concern.

“C-Coming,” Kirishima smiled, the blood rushing to his ears mostly ignorable now, but the scorching concerned gazes of his friends feel like cinders on his shoulder.

He straightens his tie, fingers curling when he feels the cold sweat penetrating through his clothes, but Kirishima doesn’t let it show. Smiling like he does, Kirishima pushed through his friends and followed Toshinori out the door.

They walked down towards the conference rooms, rooms that held their contractors, in complete silence.

“This is an important case,” Toshinori began, his voice gentle and poorly hiding his concern. “I chose you because you are a great asset to have, Kirishima. You are strong and smart, and most importantly, are personable.”

Kirishima looked at the man, his face contorting with his anxiety. He didn’t want to be treated like glass.

“Honestly, you being so personable is why I chose you for this assignment. Todoroki-shounen was a contender at first, but he’s not much of a talker; the same goes for Bakugou-shounen. Midoriya-shounen was probably the best choice, but there’s a new assignment that asked for three, so I gave up those three,” Toshinori explained the current assignments. It both delighted Kirishima to hear that he could keep up with arguably the three most qualified workers here as it did, at times, make him feel lesser. 

“Oh.”

But he was obviously not the first choice still.

“The only reason why you weren’t the first choice is because of what I walked into just now,” Toshinori interrupts Kirishima’s thoughts and words. Kirishima finds his eyes tearing away from the smooth, polished wood floor to see Toshinori stopping in front of Conference Room A, his gaze intense on him. “To be frank, I wasn’t too sure if we should have hired you all that time ago. You are excellent on the field, your skills are phenomenal. Something to be proud of, truly, but you are clearly not completely healed from your time on the force.”

“Toshinori—”

“Kirishima-shonen, I’m not saying that there’s shame in your current struggles,” Toshinori once again interrupts, his hand a soothing warmth on Kirishima’s shoulder. “I’m still not healed from my past injuries, and as many people have undoubtedly told you, it’s okay to not be okay. But you barely passed the psych evaluation and only passed your field training because you scored so phenomenally on the other things your lack of a shooting score passed you.”

Kirishima felt unable to look away from the piercing blue eyes, and the lump in his throat never tasted as bitter, as sad.

He had barely passed the admittance test.

“I just need to know, are you ready to take on this assignment?” Toshinori asks in complete seriousness. “It’s a high stake, big-name client. We do not expect anything untoward to happen, but we never know in these cases. I think highly of you, Kirishima-shonen, and if you are ready to take this on, I’ll believe you, but likewise, if you’re not, I will gladly give this to someone else.”

Kirishima swallowed, his dry tongue passing through his equally dry lips.

Without question, he was not okay, not when he nearly broke down twice in a matter of hours, but it was just a bad day. He wasn’t as shaken as he was two months ago; he was going to his mandated therapy, talking to people who could assist him. Kirishima just didn’t want to be treated like glass anymore; he wasn’t glass; he was an unbreakable force.

Steeling over his nerves and ignoring how his stomach twisted and turned, Kirishima raised his gaze to Toshinori.

“I can do it.”

A smile.

“Good.”

If Kirishima was sweating because he was on a mental slip earlier, he was now sweating because he was beyond petrified and embarrassed. His hands raised up to brush against his red spikey hair, praying to God that it didn’t look dumb. His legs bounced at a speed that was bordering insanity, but he could only hear the sound of his racing heart as he stared at your frowning form from across the table.

It was you — the Y/n, the world's biggest music idol, an absolute legend in the making.

“This is our very own Kirishima Eijirou, age twenty-eight. He has been with U.A.Services for approximately six months now and is without a doubt one of our most capable and well-serviced men,” Toshinori began the introduction to the three people on the other side of the table. Kirishima could feel a blush rising up his neck and settling into his cheeks as what he presumed to be you, your manager, and your lawyer shuffling through paperwork that was very thorough on his background. “He was enlisted in the military before joining our ranks and was honorably discharged at the age of twenty-six as First Sergeant Kirishima Eijirou due to extreme injury. He excels in negotiating, scouting, and is, as you know, a skilled close combatant and was skilled in handguns—”

“I don’t think he’ll need firearms,” you interrupt, a frown on your face in contrast to the bright smile Kirishima was so used to seeing on your face. He tensed in worry.

“Y/l/n!” your manager, Sato Kimiko, scolded.

“What? It’s true! We’ll be around my fans for the majority, if not all the time! How is that right? For him to have a firearm around defenseless, and may I add, harmless individuals?!” you argued, your eyebrows scrunching in your fury.

Kirishima felt frozen in his chair, his eyes seeking Toshinori for guidance, but found himself unable to look away from you. He knew nearly everything about you, he could admit with a proud grin that he was a super mega fan of you, and he might have, at one point, looked your height up to imagine how you would appear beside him. Kirishima had known this entire time that you were two feet shorter than him, but it hadn’t hit what that meant until he was shaking your hand when he first entered.

You were tiny.

His dick and mind really liked that, and seeing your own passion spilling out for your fans was making him fall deeper into this hole he had for you.

“You don’t have a say anymore? Do you understand? You were nearly assaulted yesterday, and we are all done waiting around for something serious to happen!” Kimiko yelled, her face contorted into a look of both frustration and fear. “Either you take this, or we all leave you. I won’t have you murdered in front of me! You’re twenty-six now, stop acting like a damn brat and grow the hell up!”

The words scorched the table, blistering heat filling the conference room as you met Kimiko’s glare.

Kirishima watched with a dropped jaw as your nostrils flared, your lips pursing, and your eyebrows furrowing with unspoken distaste and anger.

“Six months tops.”

“Uh, yes,” Toshinori interjected. “Our contracts only last up to six months for new clients, but if you find yourself wanting to extend your contract after those six months, we are very much open to negotiations.”

You nodded your head, your eyes falling back onto the booklet in your hands that exposed all the information available on Kirishima. From his likes, dislikes, to his allergies and the reason why he was discharged. Each in disturbingly deep detail to make sure all things were up on the table.

“So, you can’t shoot your gun, Kirishima-san?” you speak, your voice tight, a pleased, almost taunting tone.

Kirishima stills, embarrassment bubbling in his chest as you drop the booklet onto the table, exposing his military history to him and you. 

“...no,” Kirishima answers truthfully.

The lawyer shifts from the other side of you, his eyebrows scrunching as he too comes across that piece of information. 

“He won’t use firearms?” the lawyer scoffs, his semi-permanent frown deepening. “How will we know that he will keep Y/n completely safe from any sort of danger that may come her way? We’ll be paying six months for a glorified security guard? We want a bodyguard.”

“And we clearly have one,” you snap back, your eyes narrowing. “If my bodyguard isn’t Kirishima-san, I’m not getting one. I mean, isn’t that what you said earlier?”

“When we were assuming that the person Toshinori was assigning to your case was a well-rounded bodyguard. Not one that was still clearly haunted by his past.”

Fuck, that one hurt.

You scowled, your head tilting as you bared your teeth slightly, “And what? He managed to get into the best agency in all of Japan in spite of that. Sounds like he’s competent. I already told you I won’t take on a team, just one individual. I trust in Toshinori-san’s guidance and his choice in picking Kirishima-san. If you disagree, that’s too bad for you.”

“Y/n! Please stop this! You’re being ridiculous!” Kimiko huffed, slamming her own booklet down, her eyes drowning with her exhaustion. “I’m so sorry, Toshinori-san, Kirishima-san.”

“H-Hey, it’s okay!” Kirishima immediately imputed, his hands raising in a sign of retreat. “I know that Y/n has always enjoyed her independence as a solo star, and how me being involved now is imposing, especially after multiple attacks.”

Kirishima felt that his smile was a bit strained, a bit too forced, especially as your eyes hawked onto him. He felt like you were examining him, like a lab rat going through its initial trial and not knowing just what was to be expected.

“Six months?” you spoke, your gaze not leaving Kirishima’s own.

“Six months,” Kirishima agreed.

You hum, your head nodding. “Fine, six months tops unless the Lieutenant Colonel can apprehend these assholes faster.”

It had been ages since Kirishima had been called by his title, and for some reason, he found himself blushing. His mouth, for the first time this entire meeting, curled into a wolfish grin.

“You got it.”

The lawyer groaned, entirely aggravated and insulted. He stood up, “You’re asking to be murdered, Y/n. Don’t come haunting me when you end up dead and mutilated. You deserve all the shit you’re getting.”

Kirishima watched with his lips parted in a bewildered expression as the lawyer walked out of the room with a loud slam of the door.

You were unfazed, and Kimiko groaned, exhausted and embarrassed as she mumbled a weak, sullen, “I am so, so sorry, Toshinori-kun.”

“Ah, Kimiko-chan, it’s okay!” Toshinori shook his head and smiled knowingly. It wasn’t as if the long time famous bodyguard hadn’t seen his fair share of childish fights between clients. “Thank you for coming as always, and we’ll do our best to make sure that Y/n is in the best of hands.”

“Thank you… and so, the rest of the contract?”

“Ah, yes, let’s continue.”

So, the contract was discussed to full detail.

For six months, Kirishima would be attached to your side. He must always remain at most three meters away from you when there is no one around, and during fan interactions no more than one meter. He had a full say about your safety. If things got rough, you were to follow his every command. Your agency would pay for his room and lodging. He was to wear black pants and a black long-sleeved cotton tee. He would be working with every venue, every hotel, every conventions security team. He would lead them and never leave your side. He was to be awake an hour before you, rest when you were asleep so long as it was safe to do so. He was your guardian angel of sorts, and you would do nothing but adhere to him. 

Most importantly, according to Kimiko, there was one thing they were hoping for: Kirishima's help and discretion. For the next six months, they would be relying on Kirishima’s support to figure out who the group behind the assault was and who the mastermind was behind it all is.

Or so the contract said.

“Y/n!” Kirishima called when the papers were signed, and the day he was set to start was printed. He will begin tomorrow. “Wait!”

You stopped at the door, Kimiko and Toshinori chatting merrily between them as they exited the conference room, Toshinori’s booming voice asking if it was true that Kimiko was attending to a near forty clients to which she bashfully admitted to. You were dressed in a creme knit long-sleeved shirt, faded ripped jeans, and a pair of nude heels. The heels were big, undoubtedly giving you inches, but you still barely got to his shoulder.

“I-I’m looking forward to looking — I mean working with you!”

You looked at him closely, your eyes dragging to the top of his toes to the tallest spike in his hair before your lips pulled into a contemplative pout. You looked back to his eyes, and you steeled over, your head tilting to the side.

“I mean no offense, Sergeant, I thank you for doing your job, but I have no intention of looking forward to working with you. I don’t want you here, so do your best to ignore the contract and realize that I am the most important person, so you will follow my demands.”

Kirishima can do nothing but stare as you turn on your heel and leave.

Well, so much for a good case.

Date: 5/2 Time: 14:00 Location: Tokyo Music Stadium

If you would have told Kirishima Eijirou that he had been working for the grand, the perfect, the fantastic music idol Y/n for a month now, two months ago, he would have laughed so hard he’d cry. Not only would he have not believed it, but he would only think of a million and two scenarios where he would go the entire day flirting.

Now a month into knowing you, of being your bodyguard on a contract for six months, Kirishima could say that of that entire thought, the only thing he had been right about was that he was, in fact, crying. Not only has he never managed to speak an entire conversation with you despite being attached to your hip seven days a week, but despite your much shorter stature, you had managed to get away from him.

You always managed to sneak away from him.

Kirishima could admit that the no more than five meters rule had been wholly and utterly demolished.

And now, Kirishima was crying, not out of joy, but of pure manly fear as he raced through the backstages of the stadium, desperate to find your short-ass anywhere.

“Go, Kirishima!” someone yelled as Kirishima whizzed past him, “Find Y/n!”

“T-Thank you!” Kirishima screamed as he continued onward, the yellow-lit concrete hallway seemingly haunting the further he went into it. The earpiece in his left ear shrilled, the telling sign he was getting a call. Putting a finger to the circle in his ear, he answered the car. “Hello?!”

“Ah, Kirishima-san!” Kimiko’s voice chirped on the other side of the line. “Wonderful to hear your voice again! I’m calling to let you know that the tour bus is parked outside of the venue now. The concert was a smashing success, and she’s come out unharmed for the past month! To make matters even better, since your arrival, there have been no more assault attempts! Oh, um, sorry, where are you guys?”

“We’re just, um!” Kirishima tried not to pant into the microphone; he was still racing ahead, his head peeking into every door and room he passed. “Y/n needed to use the restroom?!”

“Oh, wonderful. Okay! Let me know when you two are on your way over!”

“Ya, okay, bye!”

“By—”

Kirishima hung up as he crashed through the doors at the end of the hallway.

It was night out right now, the full moon reflecting down on the dirty concrete with the same intensity as the streetlamps overhead. And in the middle of a crowd of around twenty people was the person Kirishima was trying to find: you.

You were still dressed in the final costume change of your concert. Even from a distance, Kirishima could see the glitter and highlight on the tip of your nose and the curve of your cheekbones. The crowd around you was clearly not hostile. Each face was bright with broad smiles and sparkling with fresh tears, each voice high and pitchy as if they were talking with some goddess and not you. 

There was a slight longing in Kirishima’s chest at the sight of you interacting with your fans, your smile was so beautiful, and he wished just for a moment that he was the one that it was directed towards. If he had met you as a fan, and only a fan, he wonders if you would look at him as you did the others. Would he see the pure joy in the depths in your eyes, the love, wonder, and pride as they asked you questions and answered your own?

He wanted to be just a fan.

“Y/n, the tour bus is here,” Kirishima finally found his voice, the tenor of his voice spreading through the narrow alleyway. “Say your goodbyes.”

He had to ignore the way you stiffened immediately, the unsolicited joy in your face breaking and becoming bleak as you met his gaze. Kirishima absolutely did not feel pressure behind his eyes when you rolled your eyes and began to say your goodbyes; he did not!

The group of fans waved goodbye as you walked backward toward Kirishima; you didn’t stop waving and continuing your parting conversations with the group until the metal doors of the stadium doors closed behind the two of you. Kirishima let out a sigh, his eyes closing for a brief moment before looking down at you. You were expressionless, eyes cold as you looked dead ahead.

“You’re not supposed to run away like that.”

“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t tell me what to do, Sergeant.”

“You know I can’t do that it’s not—”

“Part of your contract. Yeah, I know, but that’s your contract, not mine.”

“Oh, okay. Um, Kimiko? ...yeah, we’re heading out now. Five minutes, till.”

And then there’s only silence.

Neither Kirishima nor you bother talking the entire walk towards the tour bus, and you ignore Kimiko’s call that your lawyer would be meeting briefly before tomorrow's fan signing event. You walk into the bus and go directly to the beds, throwing yourself into the terribly padded bunk and passing out without so much as a sound.

Kirishima sinks into his own bed, it’s too small for him, but there’s nothing he can do about it. Sleep overcomes him easily these days; he’s always way too exhausted in chasing you down like some spoiled toddler you’re behaving like to dream. But that’s okay, he thinks as the comfort of sleep begins to dig its skeleton fingers into his side, at least the exhaustion stops the night terrors.

Date: 5/3 Time: 10:00 Location: Tokyo Music Tower

Now, Kirishima knew that it was a common belief and a nearly proven theory that when you met your idols, you should never ever have your expectations high on who they are as a person. Celebrities were out of touch, cruel, rude, nearly jaded. They weren’t exactly the common folk. With people willing to forget things like them being human beings themselves or the common thread of celebrities being too rich to care, any type of famous person was cold, rude, and ruthless.

He knew that.

He also knew that you weren’t like the nearly proven theory.

You were kind, sweet, a practical angel to anyone who dared to approach you. You were the exception to the rule, an outlier to them all. You spoke politely to all your fans, domestic and foreign, and you treated each fan like the most special person in the world.

You were a good person.

But Kirishima knew, just as you reacted to any cruel person you encountered, you had an edge. Your words were as vicious as your name was known. He genuinely enjoyed watching you put assholes into place, but he sulked, knowing he was always at the receiving end of the sharp, bitter tongue of yours.

For a month and a day now, he had been the number target of your bitter words and scorching hate, but he admitted that he enjoyed it when it wasn’t directed at him, if but a little bit.

“I’m not renegotiating my contract!” you groan, your palms slamming into the depths of your eyes. “I already told you that I don’t need all that money!”

“And I’m telling you that you need to increase the wages that you pay the rest of your team instead of all those charities or else people will begin dropping you!” the lawyer countered with similar fire, his scowl angry enough that Kirishima felt like he had to tear his gaze away from this horrible battle. “You won’t be the best of the best forever, y/n, get over your stupid savior act and look over the changes!”

Kirishima looked over at you, his eyebrows pinching as he watched you fold your arms, your cheeks pushed out to a puff as you looked at the stack of papers with the title page fully covered with the word Contract of Y/n and Co. on it. Well, it seemed that the rumor of you spending your paycheck on things that weren’t you was right, how entirely manly.

“Oh fuck off,” you growl, pushing out of the chair and storming away.

Kirishima glanced over at Kimiko, who was looking pale and exhausted, undoubtedly exhausted from the past thirty-minute battle between the lawyer and the idol that neither made a single step forward nor a step back. How you had the energy to fight so passionately was beyond him. Kimiko nodded minimally, her lips parting in a sigh as Kirishima stood up and followed after her.

“The only way that brat is going to listen is by force,” the lawyer sneered, his voice fading into the room that Kirishima exited. “If that’s how she wants to play, so be it.”

Fortunately for Kirishima, he catches up to you. There are tears of fury dripping down your cheeks, and he feels unable to speak as he discovers a new layer to you.

...how interesting.

“It’s my money,” you speak, but Kirishima is unsure if those words are meant for him or for the void, the earth that you would much rather converse with than him. “I already pay them all a much greater paycheck than they should be getting considering their client pool. Why do I have to bend to their stupid will when I’m the one making the money.”

Kirishima blinks, wondering just what people might want to raise with their contracts. But, he knew you were right. By her account, Kimiko had a client list of many successful individuals, and he may not know anything about the lawyer, but if he worked with Y/n, his name must be good. Guess they weren’t like you.

“People are selfish assholes,” was the only thing that Kirishima could think of, and was something he spoke before he could stop himself.

But you stop in your storm, the anger that clouded you somewhat dissipating, clearing just enough for you to turn to him, your sharp, beautiful eyes for the first time filled with rage that was not pointed at him, and an emotion that made him think of… amusement?

“Yeah,” you agree, a half-smile cracking onto your face, and Kirishima feels his soul begin leaving his very body. “People are selfish assholes, huh?”

“Very much.”

There’s a calm, a snorted chuckle, and Kirishima finds himself stumbling further into the abyss of his feelings for you.

The next ten hours seem to pass in a blur, Kirishima feeling like he was on Cloud Nine as he stood behind you, three meters as he watched fan after fan approach you. Signatures were made, pictures were taken, and Kirishima found that he never once had to approach.

Maybe, he thinks, just perhaps, the two of you can overcome this.

Ten minutes after the official signing is done, Kirishima can’t find you, and he curses loudly into the echoing floor.

So much for change.

Date: 5/17 Time: 23:00 Location: The Parking Lot - Mt. Lady Studios

Kirishima was, for the lack of better words, completely fucking done with you.

Don’t get it wrong, he still was a complete and massive fan of yours. He would never once betray his loyalty to you and your musical career, but he was slowly starting to realize just why the lawyer was set to dying of a heart attack any time soon. Despite your early entrance to stardom and the stuff of legends, you had kept your fiery, stubborn individualism.

Kirishima thought it was absolutely hot and sexy at times, especially the times where you strut around in revealing clothes because ‘this is your body,’ or the lingerie campaign you completed two days ago as part of some fundraising event. There were significant perks to your strong handle and claim to keeping your indestructible personality, but it came back to rub them all back in the worst of ways when once again, you escaped from Kirishima’s side.

To be fair, most of the time, Kirishima was a very level headed individual; he was near impossible to rile up despite popular initial belief. I mean, he was good friends with Bakugou Katsuki, who riled up just about anyone he talked to! He needed to have steel calm emotions, or at the very least portray that he does. But even the unbreakable after tireless attempts can, at times, be broken.

It had been a hard morning.

Kirishima had woken up in a panic, the sweat of his night terror soaking through the sheets of his bed, and his head felt like lead. They had been in the tour bus for the entire day because you were going from the tip of Japan to the bottom of it, thus meaning that you couldn’t run away from him, concluding that when he went to bed that night, he was merely tired, not exhausted.

“K...Kiri...shima?” the voice whispered in his ears when he bolted from his bed and tumbled to the ground, his chest heaving in his panic as he cried.

He only slept for four hours that night, the ghost of his comrade haunting him too much for him to ever drift back to sleep. The only thing he was grateful for when he stumbled down to the hotel lobby for breakfast was that he had an attack while in his own room and not in a tour bus with ten others.

But the lack of sleep and the twisting of his guts from his still unburied memories meant that his exhaustion was dialed up larger than he thought was capable. Today was an interview day plus a miniconcert at said interview.

That meant that for an hour before your interview and two hours afterward, Kirishima lost you and had to hunt you down. You weren’t making it easy on him and had started moving with the crowd you gathered to evade him.

But today, Kirishima was exhausted.

Today, Kirishima wanted to sleep.

Today… Kirishima broke.

“Let’s go,” Kirishima spoke in a low, commanding voice. His eyes were hooded as he looked down at you, the crowd of fans parting like the red sea as he stands behind you, larger than life, imposing.

You ignore him.

“We’re leaving, now.”

“Aw, did you make that just for me?! This beading is gorgeous!”

To be fair, Kirishima isn’t really sure if he’s crying right now or if steam is protruding from his ears like some stupid cartoon. The only thing he knows is that it's been a bit longer than a month, and his client is the most perfect person in the world except to him and some lawyer. All he knows is that he has been continuously mocked, shamed, and disrespected by his client, and at this moment, with his mind and body aching with the memories of the morning, he can no longer stop the tsunami of emotions and thoughts that shove out of him.

He grabs your wrist and begins pulling you away.

“We’re leaving now, sorry to disrupt your time. Come see Y/n another day.”

Kirishima isn’t even aware of your screams, the banging of your small fist against his back as his hand encompasses your bicep easily. He walks and walks and walks until he stops, his mind slightly put back into place.

“—FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM?! LET GO OF ME, SERGEANT!”

Oh, right.

He lets go of you immediately and nearly snorts at how you stumble into his back. So small, so delicate, and so completely weak.

“You want to know my problem, y/l/n?” he asks, voice eerily calm, much calmer than he actually is. “My fucking problem is that I signed onto this case with a single rule: keep you in sight and protect you. It’s simple, almost too easy, isn’t it? But easy and simple is everything that this assignment is!”

Your face contorted into a flash of anger and embarrassment, your nose scrunching as you found your footing, “And I told you that I don’t give a crap about that contract! I didn’t want it in the first place, but no one listens to me!”

Kirishima snorts, his body shifting so that he can look at you properly; your face is seething, your teeth bared and eyes wild, but Kirishima has faced worse.

“It’s not in my contract to listen to you, unfortunately,” Kirishima points out, his eyes narrowing. “I would have a better time listening to you, trying to find an agreement that worked if you used that brain of yours and figured out a way to compromise with me.”

“Compromises aren’t—”

“You think I wouldn’t?” Kirishima almost whines, his voice tight with emotions, fingers fisting in his hair, “You really fucking think that after a month and how many days of me spending stupid hours trying to find your ass, most of the time never knowing if you’re dead or not, I wouldn’t want a better solution?!”

“Like hell they’ll kill me! And if they do, I don’t fucking care!” you stubbornly insist, finger buried against the swell of your chest.

“Oh my god,” Kirishima can’t stop the bitter laugh from escaping, “you’re ridiculous.”

“I’m ridiculous?! I’m not the ridiculous one here!” you cry, your eyes bursting with unshed, bitter tears. “So what that I run away from you? Can you imagine living the past ten years of your life trying to be something that the media wants you to be? No! You can’t, Sergeant! Those times where I’m running away isn’t to be some dick, but to give me time to be me!”

“You’re a goddamn idiot!” Kirishima barks, his anger curdling in his chest like a raging fire. “If you had looked at my damn file correctly, instead of focusing on the stupid shit like me not being able to fire my gun correctly, you would be more than aware of the fact that you are one of my favorite artists!”

“Wh-”

“I am one of the best in my company! I am easy to get along with, personal, manageable, flexible even, but from the very first moment you laid eyes on me, you’ve hated me! You talk down on me, you shit on me, my job, the reason I’m here! Listen, I would fucking love to be anywhere but here right now. I have literally never hated my job before, but you just made that a reality. But the worst part of this all is the fact that you seem to think I would have kept you away, prohibited you from doing things that I already know you love! You stand there and tell me that I would try to force you to do shit you don’t want when I have merely been asking for you to take me there with you! I don’t care if I have to stand away and watch, but I want to be there! I’m supposed to be protecting you, but you’re being nothing more than a stubborn brat who refuses to see the efforts I’m trying to make, and frankly, I’m done.”

Kirishima’s chest is burning with the lack of oxygen, his eyes narrowed and filled with raging fire as he stares down at you, his neck craned so that he could be closer, more daunting, intimidating.

“Fuck o-off,” you snap suddenly, a lone tear, your voice tight and shoulders tense as you storm off.

“So predictable,” Kirishima calls after you, but it’s not filled with the previous anger he had but the sinking misery and regret.

And for a moment, it’s quiet.

Until a single name is screamed.

“SERGEANT!”

And then the all too familiar sound of a fist colliding with skin.

The anger in Kirishima’s blood evaporates immediately, and horror sinks in as he turns towards where you had stormed off. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

The parking lot is filled with an ugly yellow light that seems to set the stage for what was to come down. His footsteps crashing down against the black pavement were mute in his ears, and his eyes were focused on your limp body slung over somebody's shoulder. There was one person behind him, the other one already hopping into a van; Kirishima was the devil on their heels.

“Come on! Let’s go!” the one in the van screamed, his voice full of gruff apprehension and fear.

The van turns on.

Kirishima grunts, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he sidesteps the man who was lingering behind the one carrying you and quickly slams his shoulder into the man's sternum, knocking him out the moment he collapses onto the ground. 

He lets out a roar of such, his eyes glowing with anger and a single mind track to take down the person who held you, ready to throw your unconscious body into the back of the van.

Kirishima doesn’t even know when he manages to get to the man's side, one hand on his shoulder, the other on you, and with the strength and anger of a million fighting warriors, he ripped you from his hold and sent him stumbling into the trunk. Your shallow breathing brushes against his neck, and Kirishima is hyper-aware of the cursing men who chose to abandon their unconscious comrade on the floor. 

With his arms filled by your unconscious body, Kirishima can only watch the van scurry out of the lot, the license plate immediately burning into his mind.

T082-23

When the man on the floor finally wakes up, he’s in police custody, and you’re just waking up. There's a bruise on your cheek, and you begin crying immediately.

Kirishima watches from the distance, his heart aching and guilt climbing up his throat as he watches Kimiko hold you close, her arms warm and tight.

Well, shit.

So much for the month of no attacks.

Kirishima sits in a waiting room, his head relaxed against the wall as he waits for your discharge from the hospital. They suspect a concussion, and they’re running some tests right now. The police are there too, trying to get information from you on the failed kidnapping attempt as well as beginning the initial trials of interrogation of the abandoned kidnapper with a broken sternum, ruptured spleen, and three cracked ribs.

He was not surprised when the police officers came to talk to him, and he gave them the license plate.

But they also gave him an essential piece of information.

(“Well, when we asked for a motive, it seemed that it wasn’t his idea,” the detective admitted, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “His boss said that, and I quote, Y/n will end up dead and mutilated as is deserved. She deserves all the shit she has coming her way, end quote. Any ideas of who it could be”

Kirishima rubbed a hand across his face, the words striking a bit too familiarly to him, but from where. He shook his head, his eyes focusing on his bouncing knee.

“Thank you,” Kirishima said, his tone pointed in a clear indicator that this conversation was now over. The detective nodded, his frown slight as he left. The moment he was gone, Kirishima pulled out his phone and dialed a number. “Kimiko? Yeah, I think we might have our first suspect.”)

For now, he was waiting for you.

An hour passed before you shuffled into the waiting room. There was a bandage on your swollen cheek, but besides the obvious attack, your eyes looked strong, and it seemed like there was no concussion.

“I should be fine,” you speak first, your jaw tensing as if it physically pained you to speak (whether it was because you hated talking to him or because of the injury, Kirishima had no idea). “I will be fine; I just need some sleep.”

Kirishima nodded, his body completely exhausted, and his mind filled with nothing but regrets on how he handled his anger earlier. He needed to apologize. He wasn’t entirely wrong, but he had definitely crossed a few too many lines.

“Should we go?”

You chewed on your lip, your eyes looking down at the white tiled floors of the hospital — so bleak, so anxiety driving.

“I actually wanted to talk before we left.”

Oh?

“Of what, if I may ask?”

Your eyes raise back up before looking away again, “the contract.”

Kirishima finds himself nodding, his hand gesturing towards the empty seat in front of him.

“Sure.”

And with a heaving sigh that sounds like you were on the verge of tears, you sit before him.

The contract was then discussed.

It was decided that you could continue to interact with fans as you wish, so long as you took Kirishima with you. He didn’t care about the long hours, the manic fans, or the impending doom of a group of people who meant business. He needed to be there.

Everything else stayed the same, but Kirishima looked at you one last time that night in the hospital, his body leaning towards you as he did his best to keep his face void of emotion and any lingering teasing.

“I’ll only accept this new negotiation on one term.”

“W-What?!” you pause, thinking. “Fine, say it.”

“From here on out, I think we should be friends, yeah? I’m on your side, after all, it’s a bit weird if we stay just acquaintances.”

The tension and horror leave your body, and Kirishima, for the first time ever, bears witness to the most relaxed, meaningful smile he has ever seen you give. It had been one hell of a shitty night, but at that very moment when the seventh turned into the eighth, Kirishima felt a new warmth flood through his chest, his heart racing at the sight of your glorious smile.

“Of course, Kirishima.”

“Oh, and y/n?” 

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry about all that I said. It was unmanly of me and out of line.”

“It’s okay. To be fair, I was a bit of a self-absorbed brat, too.”

The next day, a picture of Kirishima holding you bridal style is trending.

Date: 6/12 Time: 19:00 Location: Hime Onsen

An Interview with Y/n | Vogue Japan 4.5 million views • Premiered 2 hours ago 874k [liked this] 12.3k [disliked this] Timestamp: 05:32 / 10:33

[Interviewer]: Now, Y/n, we must congratulate you on your latest achievement! Your latest self-titled album, ‘Y/N,’ has been nominated for a record high of twelve awards for the upcoming Japan Record Awards, which will be coming up in about a month! Tell us how you feel about this?

[You]: It was quite a surprise actually! I didn’t realize that it would have done so well in the critic's eyes to get this type of award. I am proud of myself and am excited to see all the other amazing artists and musicians who were nominated as well.

[Interviewer]: Now, your album is all about staying true to yourself, whether that be in love or war. It depicts your own highs and lows while also highlighting beautifully universal things many of us face. Without question, you have always been adamant on staying connected with your fans and keeping a simple rule: no bodyguards.

[Y/n]: Oh, (laughs) yes! That is definitely a new thing, huh?

[Interviewer]: A new thing and a beautiful thing at that, too! Look here!

[captioner notes: interviewer displays many photos of Y/n’s bodyguard, including the most famous one where he’s holding y/n after the failed kidnapped attempt]

[Interviewer]: This is a beautiful — don’t giggle! — a beautiful man, Y/n! What do you have to say for yourself?! Did you finally succumb to keeping untrue to yourself for this beautiful man?! If so, it is perfectly acceptable. By chance, is your contract with him done? I would personally love to have this man on my team.

[Y/n]: (laughing) By all means, take him! (Y/n looks behind her, her bodyguard is there) I’m kidding, I’m kidding! (pauses) No, actually, sorry. Kirishima is an outstanding bodyguard, and I have no intentions of leaving him so soon. Uh, while I did say I had no wish or intentions to have a bodyguard, obviously that was not the best solution, so I hired Kirishima. He is a wonderful addition to my team and still allows me to be authentically me, so it’s still all good.

[Interviewer]: Ah, okay, well, Kirishima-kun, if you ever need a new client, call me. But moving on, yes! Would you like to discuss the series of increasingly concerning attacks?

Kirishima stood in the softly lit hallways of a sauna.

Today was one of the last remaining days you had off, and in celebration of your upcoming award season, you had decided that it was mandatory to visit the hot springs. Everyone on your team — the backup dancers, band, and hair and makeup — were ecstatic to learn that they were being involved with it too.

This high-end resort had accommodated your entire team to receive their own private spring with an all-inclusive menu too. 

It was thanks from the owner for the free PR and, of course, because they were some of your biggest fans. So, in thanks, everyone got to enjoy the springs.

Well, everyone but Kirishima, that was.

As of the past month, things between Kirishima and you had improved a lot.

With Kirishima no longer needing to run a marathon daily to find where you were, he would find himself walking at your side. He no longer felt like you hated him. There was respect and actual friendship between the two of you. You joked with him, showed him memes and TikTok, sent him snapchat streaks, and invited him to watch weird shows with you. You even complained to him about the things that annoyed you, namely Kimiko’s attention being stolen by other clients and the rude conversations you would have with the lawyer.

It made Kirishima’s chest warm up knowing that you were friends now.

A stressful month had passed into a friendlier one.

But there were some things that Kirishima would not have expected to… arise.

Namely you growing to be comfortable enough to walk around with nothing but a thin pair of panties and a large shirt. You curling into his side whenever you watched a show together in the bus, the way your lips brushed against his neck when he leaned down to hug you, or the very so not obvious teasing you would do when you changed in front of him. It was as if you were watching his every reaction, enjoying the way that his eyes horribly tore away, or the silent hitch in his throat whenever you speed his heart up.

The biggest surprise arose the night after the failed kidnapping attempt:

You had come to his room, hours after you were supposed to have fallen asleep.

Your eyes were sunken, still a bit tired, and the bruise on your cheek was looking bad. In your arms was a white binder undoubtedly filled with the introductory packet you had received at your initial meeting. Kirishima had opened the door in his sleepy state in nothing but gym shorts. He had barely started dozing off, his mind wouldn’t stop thinking of what could have happened if you hadn’t managed to scream, and so he kept tossing and turning.

Seeing you outside of his room, his head dropped down to look at you properly, and his fist rubbing at his eye fell, “Y/n?”

“Did I wake you?” you asked, your face filled with a shocked, near uncomfortable, and embarrassed expression he doesn’t recall ever seeing on you. “I’m so sorry! I’ll wait until—”

“No,” Kirishima grunts while he shakes his head, his voice raspy and dry from his lack of use. “I’ve been tossing and turning, um, what is it? Do you want to come in?”

“I-If that’s okay?”

Kirishima breathes out a bit, his shoulders relaxing as he smiles softly, “Come on, let’s talk about what’s on your mind.”

The door clicked behind your tentative steps with an echo, and Kirishima watched as you walked into the hotel room with wariness and caution.

“Would you like some tea?” Kirishima offered, picking up a shirt from his dresser and pulling it over his body. The fabric was tight against his chest and shoulders, but felt more appropriate to wear around you.

“No, I’m okay,” you politely decline.

You stood in the center of the room, unsure of where to sit, stand, or lay.

“Go ahead and make the bed,” Kirishima offered, taking the chair by the desk. “I promise it’s still clean.”

You laugh slightly, smile strained but grateful as you sit at the edge of the bed, binder resting on your lap.

“Thanks, I wouldn’t want to sit on a dirty bed,” you joke, but it sounds weak to Kirishima’s ears.

“So, what questions do you have?”

“Hm?”

“You have my portfolio,” he shrugs, leaning forward so that his forearms rest on his knees. “I have a feeling you have some questions.”

“Oh, right,” you whisper, your eyebrows scrunching as you open the binder to the first page, but your eyes are focused on the desk. “What’s the medication for?”

Kirishima turns his head to follow your gaze and comes across the yellow tinted medicine containers.

“My PTSD,” Kirishima answers honestly, his voice soft with emotion, but there was no shame in it. “My service had a difficult end.”

“That’s actually… that’s what I came to talk about,” you rush, your hands slamming the binder closed. “If you don’t want to talk about it, obviously I won’t push it! God, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have—”

“No, it’s okay,” Kirishima interrupted, his smile sad, but he stood up, his body a tower in front of yours as he urged you to sit back down. “It’s okay; I don’t mind talking about it.”

“B-But what if I say something that makes it all worse?”

A pause.

“Then I’ll tell you that it’s too much.”

A nod.

“Are you… are you still experiencing a lot of symptoms?” you ask, your fingers tightening and untightening around the binder.

“Some days are worse than others,” Kirishima admits, his shoulders shrugging. “I don’t experience much anxiety while in crowds anymore; I don’t have many flashbacks to those days anymore, not since February at least. I do still get… I still get night terrors and dream of that day. It’s nowhere near as bad as the first few months after the accident, but it’s still here.”

“What happened?” you asked after a bit, morbidly curious.

The file had all the details that proved Kirishima to be a master of firearms during his entire time on the force. He was a powerful combatist, and his ranking was a clear indicator of the respect and skills he had. Still, it was the quick honorable discharge, the near year-long hospitalization, and the current inability to use a firearm that concerned you.

What had happened?

“I was involved in a grenade explosion on my last day on tour. I was the only one who managed to survive the blast,” Kirishima easily stated, his voice quiet.

“Oh my god, I… holy shit, I’m so sorry.”

“Nah, it’s all good. There were only two others around, and one of them was already dead.”

“Was that um, Major—”

“We called him Crimson Riot, actually,” Kirishima smiled, a chuckle light on his tongue as he leaned back onto the chair, nodding. “Yeah, that was him.”

“Crimson Riot,” you repeat, nodding. “Did you watch him… watch him die?”

Kirishima presses his lips tightly together, and for a moment, you’re unsure if he’s going to cry, answer you, or tell you to leave. There’s a whirlwind of emotions on your optimistic and typically jubilant bodyguard despite your asshole tendencies that make your stomach twist.

“Yes,” Kirishima finally answers, and you nod.

It’s hours into the morning before you finally depart back to your room, the horrors of Kirishima’s past still pounding into your ears. Kirishima wouldn’t notice, and neither would you, but on his shirt and yours, there’s a few drops of tears the both of you shed when you said goodnight.

Sergeant Kirishima Eijirou, while on an active warzone, had accidentally struck and killed his superior officer, his friend, his role model Crimson Riot, thinking that he was nothing more than an enemy target as he sat wounded behind a wall. He died on his lap, and as someone came to help, a grenade landed two meters away before detonating.

“K...Kiri...shima?” Crimson Riot had whispered as he fell to his knees, blood gushing and seeping through his clothes, spilling onto Kirishima’s lap. “I’ll be okay.”

For whatever reason, since that night, Kirishima felt something in him shift. He still took his medication, still had his virtual therapy sessions when he could fit them in, and even had painful night terrors of that moment, but it was becoming less frequent.

He wasn’t made of glass.

There had been more instances after the kidnapping attempt, but unlike the last times, Kirishima was prepared. He had stopped each one, keeping you safe and sound. As of one week ago, he had officially been given a firearm to keep strapped to his thigh at all times now.

It was an unfamiliar weight, one that still twisted his stomach and made him nervous, but he knew the reason why it was needed. Since the gun had been added to his gear, the attacks stopped. He was definitely not ready to be firing it anytime soon, but it had deterred the attackers for the time being.

Kirishima paused when he heard his earpiece ring, and he dropped his phone where he had been watching your interview despite being there himself.

“Talk to me,” Kirishima answered, his finger pressing the accept button.

“Kirishima!” came the distressed voice of Kimiko, “We just got a tip!”

Kirishima stilled, his eyes scanning the empty hallways that stretched throughout the private hot springs.

“I don’t know, but a person with connections with this mastermind said something about how there were two more events he was staging. Today is one of them!”

Kirishima’s eyes widened, his lips parting to answer Kimiko when instead there was a large, loud crash in the water from inside your room. He assumed the worst.

“Y/n!” Kirishima shouted, hands throwing open the sliding door and racing through the storage room, the shower, and exited out into the hot spring.

Steam curled through the wind, the white wisps of steam feeling warm and light against Kirishima’s skin, and Kirishima panicked when he couldn’t see your shadow or figure in the hot springs.

“Where is she?! Is she alright?!” Kimiko panicked, her voice panicking already. “I’ll call the—”

Kirishima turned on his heel, ready to complete a full sweep of the outdoor hot spring when he crashed into something smaller than he was… smaller, softer, and definitely the shape of a woman. Kirishima felt his entire body stiffen when his rough palms felt the undeniable feeling of wet, warm skin.

“Oh my god,” he heard you shriek. “KIRISHIMA!”

“She’s all good, Kimiko,” Kirishima stifled out, his voice tight, his head slamming backward so that his eyes were concentrated on the starry night sky.

“...sorry… uh aha! Another client of mine is calling, goodbye!” Kimiko’s apology was meek and small before she hung up.

Kirishima’s mind was racing a mile a minute, but his body was frozen, unmoving like a rock when he realized that pressing to his stomach was, without a doubt, your breasts.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“What are you doing in here, pervert?!” you splutter, your hands pressing to his stomach as you step away. “Are you a pervert or something?!”

“I, no! No! Of course not! Fuck, shit, I’m so sorry! I’ll go! There was a tip that something was going to happen right now, and there was a crash and—”

“What are you looking at?” you exclaim, squeaky frustration heavy on your tongue. “There’s nothing wrong with the sky! Look me in the eyes? Have you never been to a co-ed hot spring before?!”

“Y-Yes, sorry!” Kirishima apologized, bowing slightly in apology before he peered down. Still, his face bursted in a flame as he watched the way your jaw dropped in disbelief, the dewy wetness of the hot spring clinging to your body. You were, obviously, soaked, and Kirishima bit his tongue as hard as he could to keep the whimper from expelling past his lips when he saw the light gleaming off your breasts. But he watched your face shift between a million emotions, each one appearing too fast for him to read, too fast to register, but he saw the way a single-arm wrap around your breast and the other shoving into his stomach.

“PERVERT!”

“What?!”

“That was a test! This is my private room! I have the right to not be willing to be looked at right now!” you shrieked as Kirishima spun around, allowing you the complete privacy of his gaze.

“You told me to look at you!” he squawked. “Y-You told me, and I listened because of our contract!”

Kirishima could feel his body trembling, his mind reeling in disbelief that he definitely saw you in your entire nakedness, and if the swirling heat in his stomach had anything to say about it, he liked it. Fuck.

There was a soft laugh and the sound of sloshing water as you probably (he wouldn’t know because he wasn’t looking) reentered the spring.

“I know, I was teasing,” you sing, and he can tell the water is gliding around your body. “Turn around, Kiri, let’s talk.”

“Haha, um, I’m not sure if that’s a good idea,” Kirishima admits, although sitting in this steam-filled space with just you sounds so very nice. 

“Why not?” you asked, voice sounding a bit upset.

“I’m supposed to be outside, doing my job?”

“Augh, but these private springs are so boring alone,” your voice whines; the water sloshes, and Kirishima winces at the slight throb on his tongue as he continues to look at not your direction. “Turn around, Kiri.”

Not too long ago, you had taken to calling him Kiri, a subtle change, a not unusual nickname people gave him. But just because it was you, his stomach flipped and twisted, and now with the image of your tits in mind, his dick throbbed. 

Gulping, Kirishima turned, his gaze bashfully looking down at you before glancing away. You were chest-deep in the hot springs, tendrils of your wet hair sticking to your neck. Was he dead? Maybe dreaming?

No, his dreams were never like this.

“Do you want to come in?” you continued to ask, your body moving towards him in the water until you reached the edge of the pool, arms testing into the black rocks. “You’re the only one not in one, and since I hate being in these alone, I figured you’d like to join.”

Kirishima wanted to join. More than anything, he wanted to take his clothes off and jump into the springs with you, for you, but that would be unprofessional. Entirely and utterly unprofessional.

“Please?” you ask softly, pleadingly, and Kirishima makes the mistake of locking his gaze with yours. 

“...fine, but I’ll be on the other side of the spring,” he concedes, his steps near clumsy and oafish as he stumbles backward to the shower and closet.

“Such a gentleman pervert,” you tease, fingers curling as you wave at him until Kirishima finally closes the door behind him.

The empty room is nearly deafening in its silence and the future as Kirishima slumps against the sliding door, excited apprehension rippling through every cell of his skin as a smile spreads across his face. He walks to the storage room, and despite it being a private room, there were two closets. The closet not already occupying your clothes had the things needed for him, and thankfully, it fit. 

He undressed slowly, folding his clothes and placing them into the cubbies. Fully naked, he approached the showers, and under the lukewarm showerhead, he cleaned his body of any grime, dirt, and sweat. 

Feeling refreshed and clean, Kirishima began his descent to the hot spring, his heart hammering when his fingers grabbed the handle of the door.

“I’m coming in,” he announced, a healthy amount of fear, excitement, and heat drumming through him.

“I’ll keep my virgin eyes away from your body, don’t worry,” came your slow tease, and Kirishima snorted softly.

Kirishima stepped back out to the hot spring.

Just like the first time, the entrance to the spring was warm, the steam seeming thicker than last time, clouding the outdoor room and his sight. You were at the furthest out part of the pool, your back towards them as you worked your fingers through your scalp.

Discarding his slippers at the edge, Kirishima climbed into the pool.

The pool only went as far as his thigh, and he sank into the warm water. It felt wonderful on his body, relaxing his muscles just enough for him to wonder when was the last time he had managed to visit a hot spring.

“I’m in,” Kirishima said, his arms rising up out of the water, resting onto the black stone. “You can turn around now.”

“God, took you long enough,” you tease, your body twisting so that you were facing him again.

To Kirishima’s complete and utter surprise, you stilled, eyes dragging up and down his exposed chest, eyes locked on the series of tattoos all over his right pectoral, and trailed down his right arm. His lips felt dry as your eyes shifted back to his face, to his arm, and back to him. The smile on your face felt weak, but it sent a spiral of dizzying heat through Kirishima when he noticed the hushed lust.

For a while, the two of you remained at opposite ends of the hot spring. Eyes closed, hummed melodies passing through the song. You asked Kirishima about how he felt, if his medication was due for refills, if therapy was okay (he was doing better, a refill was due in two weeks, and therapy was going the same). He asked you about your relationship with Kimiko, with the lawyer, and if you had any real friends within the music industry (Kimiko was like an older cousin to you, the lawyer was a pain to deal with at times, and surprisingly, you did meet some genuine friends). You questioned how his friends were doing, if he had any contact with them despite their busy schedules. 

So Kirishima found himself retelling stories of his coworkers turned close friends. Each story he told left both of you with sore stomachs from laughter, and tears at the corner of your eyes from laughing too hard. 

“Was the tip story true?” you asked once the quiet overcame and grew old. You shift through the water, getting a bit closer to Kirishima.

Kirishima coughed, suddenly feeling a tad bit shy about his posture, but decided to keep from moving.

“You honestly think I would have barged into here just because I wanted to see you?”

Truthfully, had Kirishima been a man without morals, chivalry, or disrespect for you, he would have. Definitely would have.

“Let a girl dream,” you smile, like a luring siren as you wander closer by just a step. “It would go against everything I know about you, but it’s fun to tease.”

“You’re a bigger brat than I thought you would be,” Kirishima smiles back, trying his best to not show the way goosebumps were bursting against his skin, his eyes locked on yours, trying to not get distracted by the way your wet skin made his mind spin.

“I don’t think I’m a brat,” you counter, getting close enough that he could feel the currents of the water with your movement. But you were far enough that Kirishima felt like pointing out the fact you disregarded his keep apart rule would be a mistake. “How am I a brat?”

The sound of the water rippling through the springs along with the growing noises of the bugs began a melody around the two of you, and all Kirishima could do was stare at the way you blinked your eyes slowly — like a feline stalking a prey.

“A lot of ways, really,” Kirishima breathes, his heart rising up to his throat as he felt your hands gingerly place themselves on his knees.

“Yeah?” you ask, parting through his naked legs, and Kirishima felt his breathing stop when your exposed chest pressed against his. Your lips were ghosting so far from his but tantalizingly close enough that he felt drunk off your sweet breath. “And what are you going to do about it?”

Kirishima sucked in air, his arms resisting movement, and his eyes glanced down at the way your mouth was millimeters from his. His dick was very much interested in what he could do about it, and when your hands grazed up his thigh and onto his chest, Kirishima could feel something rumble in his chest.

He moved to eliminate the space, but there was a crash in the following spring, pushing you away from him long before he could claim your mouth.

“FUCK!” the person in the opposite spring screamed, and Kirishima’s eyes closed in his muted annoyance as you sighed.

His eyes dropped to the water, giving you the privacy to rise out of the water and make your way over to the wall.

“Jenny, are you okay?” you called.

“Give me a warning the next time you try fucking your hot bodyguard in the middle of a private onsen!”

“We weren’t fucking you prude!”

And with that, Kirishima took this as his embarrassed cue to leave.

He stood at the entrance of your private spring for about twenty minutes, entirely uncomfortable with the still hard dick in his pants, rubbing and chaffing against his jeans as he stood there. Eventually, you exited the hot spring, face glowing from the steam and eyes avoiding his gaze as you walked back to your room. Your robe was tight on your body, the hair on the nape of your neck pressed to your skin.

Kirishima sighed as he watched you enter your room, your smile short as you nodded a simple goodnight before letting the door slam shut behind you.

Rubbing his face, Kirishima listened to the voices in his intercom talk about how nothing had happened tonight. An attempted unwelcome visitor tried to get into your room, but they had stopped him. They didn’t fight, but they had run away the moment they caught on to the fact that they weren’t exactly authentic.

Kirishima sighed as he slumped into his room, collapsing on the too small bed as he found himself looking at the ceiling in deep concentration.

What was he going to do now?

That was undeniably sexual, his still semi-hard dick damning evidence to the known fact that he wanted you. By god did he want you. Wanted you beneath him, over him, splitting yourself down onto his cock while you gripped your arms and legs around him, fucking down onto his driving cock. 

Kirishima groaned low in his chest, guilt blooming in the back of his throat as his palm rubbed his pulsing cock.

Bad, Kirishima, bad.

“Kirishima-san?” a voice broke through his earpiece, and Kirishima nearly jumped out of his skin. “Are you there?”

“Hi Kimiko,” Kirishima sighed, his dick deflating instantly. “Everything all right?”

“Ah, yes! Sorry about earlier, the false tip and the sudden abandonment!” Kimiko embarrassingly apologized. “My client was ringing for the fourth time, and while I care deeply for y/n, I had to take it!”

“Mm, no worries, Kimiko,” Kirishima smiled politely despite the lack of visual contact. “How can I help you?”

“Ah, yes,” Kimiko asserted, her tone changing from apology to one of formality. “So, about the visitor incident I’m sure you were brought attention to, it seems that the vehicle they came in was with the driver's plate: T082-23. Does that sound familiar?”

“Not currently,” Kirishima sighed, his body stretching into a sitting up position. “Does it to you?”

“No…” Kimiko admitted, and Kirishima could feel the worried frown on her face. “Well, I just wanted to call and give you that information. It was passed along to me, and they mentioned they hadn’t told you. And since I was going to give you the schedule for the upcoming JRA’s award day, I figured I’d let you know!”

“No problem! Let’s go over the schedule now?”

“Yes! I have a client meeting in America right after this! Can you believe it? An American celebrity wants my help?!”

“That sounds amazing, Kimiko!”

“Okay, so this is how the day’s going to go!”

Date: 7/10 Time: 18:00 Location: Tokyo Hotel Room 101

Kirishima watched as an entire team was getting you dressed up.

Two people were doing your hair, three people doing your nails, one person doing your makeup, and five getting one of your three outfits for the night ready.

According to you, as you had strutted around in these outfits nearly two weeks ago were your red carpet and beginning of the award show outfit, your performance outfit, and of course, the after-party outfit. Each one was different, yet when adorned on your body was a perfect replica of who you were.

Most importantly, the two of you had decided to ignore every single instance of tremendous sexual energy and desire that basically leaked from both of your pores. It was for the best to ignore it. There was no point in pursuing it, especially when there was a known hunt for you, and Kirishima was the last line of defense between you and whoever it was.

Whoever it was, pfft.

Kirishima was willing to bet on who it was already.

Since the night of the initial kidnapping that finally closed the gap between you and Kirishima, there was something that the caught criminal said that stuck with him.

Everything you had coming your way, you deserved, he had said in bitter spite.

The interesting thing was that it was the lawyer who had said that, multiple times at that. The lawyer seemed to have everything to fuel him to rage against you. Everything you said or tried, the lawyer was on your heel, barking at you that it was wrong. Kirishima had also seen the contracts between you and the lawyer, and the amount that he was paid to be your attorney was not large at all.

The mass majority of the funds you earned were always funneled towards charities and organizations you trusted to help people in need — in fact, it was almost 80% of your total earnings. A meek, barely larger than 20% was split between you, your lawyer, Kimiko, your music crew, and any other unforeseen expenses. The lawyer was also in a situation where he was not in demand with clients, and if you weren’t heeding his expensive tag, he needed a new contract with you.

A contract he was always demanding to discuss with you that you denied to change.

Attacks tended to happen days after you and the lawyer tumbled, not enough to rouse suspicion if you weren’t looking, but Kirishima was. He just needed damning evidence now.

Something.

Anything.

And for some reason, his gut was screaming at him that something big was going to happen tonight, that tonight was going to be the last attack—the one to end everything.

So he had told everyone about it. Kimiko, the security at the JRA’s, even you. It made him nervous.

It made his hand sweat, the gun strapped to his thigh feeling like hot iron as he stood about as you laughed with your makeup crew.

Kirishima swore, promised, and vowed he would protect you.

He was going to.

And when the gold dress was tied to your body, fitting you beautifully, Kirishima found himself unable to look away like strands of your hair framed your temples.

“What do you think, Kiri? Will I be on the Best Dressed List?” you asked, tearing Kirishima’s attention away from the bodice and skirt of the dress. Your eyes were bright, hopeful, yearning for a positive reaction from him.

“How could you not be?” Kirishima admitted, his grin toothy, and he shifted against the wall.

“You’ll make me blush,” you grin back, eyes batting just a bit as you clasp your hands together. It takes everything in Kirishima to keep from striding across the space between the two of you and kissing you silly. “Are we ready to go?”

Kirishima wet his lips, unwillingly tearing his gaze from you, and whispers into the intercom.

“Ready to move out?”

“We’re all clear.”

Straightening back up, Kirishima smiled at you, his head motioning towards the door.

“Alright, y/n, let’s see you make some history?”

“Damn right I will.”

Kirishima smiled as he exited first, carving the path for you. 

Paparazzi were on you immediately, the lights flashing and terribly bright as he helped you through the throngs of them. His hand pressed to your back as they screamed demands, most of which you complied with until Kirishima stated that you would be late. You, unfortunately, couldn’t be late to the awards show.

Ushering you into the limousine, Kirishima follows in shortly after you, scrunching up in his seat as he sits opposite of you. However, your typical light and bright demeanor are gone; instead, you seem almost anxious as you open your handbag.

“You okay there?” Kirishima asks as he realizes you pulled out a distinctly obvious metal flask.

“Awards make me nervous,” you painfully admit; you're weakly smiling as you knock back a shot of the drink. “I hate winning and losing; the alcohol makes me less… of a wreck. Do you want some? I think it’s apple soju, I don’t know, a good luck gift from Kimiko.”

Kirishima grins, his eyes rolling as he decides to decline the drink. “Sorry, love, I think that I need to be completely sober for today.”

You scrunch your nose, obviously displeased, “Lame, who shows up to these awards sober?”

“Me,” Kirishima laughed, his head tilting back and scraping against the ceiling of the limousine. 

“Such a prude, sober, pervert,” you sigh, taking yet another swig before putting the flask back into your bag. 

“Such a brat.”

Just like every previous instance, your eyes seem to glow in glee at that name, your lips curling into a pleased smirk as you shrug. It's a sight that makes Kirishima’s mouth dry and heart racing. Fuck, he should not be thinking about fucking you in the limousine right now.

But before the heat in the limousine could simmer to one of undeniable boiling, you had arrived.

Kirishima cleared his throat, sending a quick wink your way as he exited the car first. The first stop was for him to join the lineup to guide you through all the different photo and interview sessions. No one wanted pictures of him emerging from the limo after all. 

There's a moment where after Kirishima closes the door, your eyes filled with worry and excitement as he winked goodbye, that things changed. He stood up, his eyes already scanning the area for anything suspicious, when he saw the all too familiar van.

T082-23.

His eyes widened, his head looking around for anyone else, but there was no one to help. No one could do anything as the car continued to drive away, disappearing from Kirishima’s line of sight. His heart hammered in his chest, and his hands instinctively went to his thigh. He had his firearm… he had it.

With nothing but a quick report to the head of security via his com, Kirishima pushed on ahead, waiting for your descent down the red carpet.

When you eventually emerged from the limousine, Kirishima found that at this moment, the entire world faded away as a gloved hand assisted you out of the vehicle. You were elegant, stunning, a realistic vibrant portrait within his world of greys. As you took photos for the cameras, he was by your side a few strides away as you talked to reporters.

You really came to life right now.

You were beautiful.

“For all the pain in the world that she is, she’s quite charming from a distance, huh?” a voice spoke to his side, and Kirishima froze. His eyes widened completely when he noticed that standing beside him was none other than the lawyer.

The lawyer was dressed in a nice suit, glasses perched on his nose, and for the first time Kirishima had seen, the scowl was not quite so hard.

He was here.

Every warning bell sounded in Kirishima’s head.

This was the man he was so sure was the reason behind your every attack. A man fueled by insufficient funding, a need for a new contract that would never be approved without your signature.

“What are you doing here?” Kirishima asked, subtlety never being something he was ever good with. “I’ve never seen you anywhere except to argue with Y/n about contracts. This doesn’t seem like the appropriate time to be discussing it.”

“Kimiko wanted me to give her a new contract proposal to give to y/n. However, to be fair, it’s quite easy for anything to come down to an argument with y/n,” he shrugs, and Kirishima watches a cloud of emotions pass between the man’s eyes. “At least between her and me, we’ve never gotten along, but I suppose that’s how it is for any type of family who works together.”

Wait.

“What?! Family member?!”

“Yes, I know it’s strange to believe. I am quite ugly, and she is not, but we’re family.”

Kirishima’s mind was racing now. It didn’t make sense. If he was family, why would he be in such pursuit of potentially murdering you? If you were family, he was sure that you would help out? If he needed a raise like he thought, wouldn’t you have helped?

There was no way you wouldn’t.

Was he wrong?

Who was it?

“Kiri!” your voice broke into his mind and tore him back to reality. You waved at him, then passed a stuck-out tongue to the lawyer in a teasing fashion. “Let’s go in?”

Kirishima looked over at the lawyer who greeted a woman, who was also walking down the red carpet, a celebrity he could name no less, with a warm kiss. 

Oh fuck.

He needed to call Kimiko; he was so very wrong.

You had won two awards so far, and at this very moment, Kirishima was being ushered back to his seat in the audience as you were being escorted to the main stage to perform your latest song. You had removed your gold dress for a black, sleek gown. Your lipstick changed to a dark red, and your hands trembled in the white lace gloves you wore.

“Oh, Kiri,” you wheezed almost, your hands shaking as the announcers on stage were announcing the last awards before your performance. “I’m getting nervous. What if I mess up or sing off-key? I’d be the laughing stock!”

Kirishima laughed gently, his hands easily encompassing your waist as he stilled your frantic moves. “Y/l/n y/n, if there is anything I know for sure about you is that you are one hell of a singer and a performer. The awards you’re nominated for tonight speak for themselves! You never fail at your performances, and even if you somehow manage to sing off-key, I’m sure that no one would notice! Your biggest fan in the world won’t notice, at least.”

Not more than seven days ago, when you had cried about the impending nerves of being an artist, Kirishima had come to claim the title of being your biggest fan in the world. It had made you chuckle through your tears before coming near a hysterical laugh as the two of you held each other close.

“You’re a nut, Kirishima Eijirou,” you laugh, hands resting on his lower ribs, but your smile was bright, warm. You paused a bit, fingers pulling at the fabric of his shirt. “I’ll sing just for you then, but I think I should take another swig of that soju.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Could you tell that Takeyama is completely drunk off her ass?”

“...she’s drunk?!”

“Exactly, I’ll be fine,” you breathe, taking a new smaller flask from the purse Kirishima was holding for you and taking the final swig. Your face contorts at the bitter liquid. “Ew, Kimiko really fucked me over with this one. Why is it blue?! Have you ever seen blue apple soju?!”

“No?” Kirishima startled, his eyes looking at the indeed splash of blue liquid tainting a small part of your gloves. “Who gave you that one? What happened with the other flask of yours?”

“Oh, Kimiko sent it along after I lost my other one; it’s her own flask,” you said before the backstage crew whisked you away to begin your set, and without you, Kirishima was sent to the audience.

Kirishima felt trapped as he was ushered into his seat, his eyes scanning the entire audience for something suspicious, a familiar face perhaps. His broad shoulders continued to bump into his neighbors, their disgruntled noises doing nothing to stop his worry.

“And now, Y/n,” came the strong voice of the male announcer, and the light dimmed.

Kirishima watched as the spotlight came down upon you, a golden halo of colors against your darkened gown as the instrumentals began to play in the background. And he saw you take a step forward, the building motifs suddenly silencing when you finally sang the first note.

Despite the panic arising in Kirishima, the unknown of who was behind it all, what was going to happen, he stilled at the unmatched strength and ambiance of your voice.

You sang as you did at every stage, to every audience.

There was a reason why you were considered a legend.

And then, with one last sound, one last melody, and your hand holding your microphone dropped. Your chest heaving, tears falling down your face, and the roar of the audience was silent. You looked through the audience, unable to see, but for some reason, you just knew where Kirishima was.

You smile.

But as the looming sounds begin to fill your ear again, you find that the world is hazy.

You swallow, eyes unfocused as you bowed, hurrying to leave the stage.

Kirishima watched as you took a final stumbling step off the stage, something he felt was going to be written off as you stepped on your dress. But his mind whirled.

The lawyer felt like a setup; the contracts made no sense, the blue soju.

How were they related?

What connected them?

“Oh, fuck,” Kirishima whispered, horrified, and immediately his finger pressed to his earpiece. “Find Y/n! Now!”

Kirishima was racing through the back of the venue, the announcers' voices still ringing through the dirty, bleak hallways. You had just won but was written off as being somewhere backstage; after all, the show must go on.

Voices screamed in his earpiece, each declining to have found you. No one had seen you after you stepped off the stage. No one knew who had taken you.

Kirishima noticed the doors closing at the end of the hallway, and with a dreading sense of doom, Kirishima removed the gun from his harness. And with the devil on his heels, he ran.

Kirishima panted as he looked before him.

You were passed out, draped limp, confused, and woozy against Kimiko’s body, and two men knocked unconscious beside them. To anyone else, it looked as if Kimiko had saved you, some guardian angel within this world, but if Kirishima’s gut meant anything, he knew better.

“Kirishima-san!’ Kimiko squeaked as Kirishima raised his gun, his body tense, unwilling to take a chance on her. “I don’t know what those two were doing! I was saving her, I swear!”

“Don’t do this, Kimiko,” Kirishima whispered, his head shaking. “I figured it out.”

There was a shift in Kimiko’s face at that; the scared unknowing hero melted into one of anger, resentment, one of someone who knew they had been outed.

“So, you figured it out,” she bitterly spoke, her arms that were supporting you from behind revealing to be a firearm of your own. “I didn’t expect you to.”

“I can’t say I figured out your reasoning; honestly, it doesn’t make sense to me, but I felt like it was you,” Kirishima carefully states, his heart roaring at the implied danger of the firearm against your chin. “Don’t do anything stupid, Kimiko.”

Kimiko stares, her lips forming a small o before changing into one of a large, near unattached grin.

“Anything stupid? If anyone is doing anything stupid, it's this selfish prick!” Kimiko spits, her arms tightening around you, making you whimper ever so gently in pain. “She thinks she’s so great, so rich, so smart! Just because she wastes most of her money on stupid shit like charity! Everyone thinks working for her is a dream, but they’re all blind idiots!”

Kirishima’s eyes widen as he notices the glazed, unfocused of your eyes as you shift your attention over to him. Were you listening?

“What’s wrong with the contract?” he asks, a small attempt to diffuse the situation.

“The fact she pays me next to nothing, and yet she works me half to death!”

“You have multiple clients, don’t you?” Kirishima splutters, unsure as to what was wrong. “Why is this one contract so important you wanted to frame her lawyer?!”

Kimiko laughs; it’s pitchy, almost hysterical as she bends over, your body slumping further onto the floor. “That was a lie! All a fucking lie! Do you know that I knew no one when I first started? Y/n is a name everyone wants. I don’t need to do anything to get her things! The world wants her! But the other clients? None of them stayed, none of them wanted me past a month! The salary was okay when she was a snot-nosed brat, but ten years later?! NO! She won’t fucking listen. She never fucking listens to anything but herself! So she has the option to give me the eighty percent, or fucking die here!”

Suddenly the gun in Kirishima’s hand feels like a ton, the skin on the back of his neck crawling and slicking with sweat.

“You know how much those charities mean to her,” Kirishima whispers. “She won’t do it.”

Kimiko trembles for a second, her arm holding the firearm lowering as she looks at the wall, shaking.

“Oh my god… you’re right,” Kimiko realizes, horror and uncertainty flashing across her face. “I guess… she has to die, oh my god, she has to die.”

At that moment, the world slowed down, and Kirishima swore he could see the atoms, the electricity flowing through the space between them. Kimiko’s arm holding the gun raising back up to your temple, her smile detached, horrific yet gleeful.

His body trembled as he doubted himself, his mind unsure if the finger on the trigger was going to be strong enough to fire away. Could he do it?

Was he ready?

Actually ready?

Save her, his past whispered.

Save her, his nightmares screamed.

Save her, his heart yelled.

Kirishima raised his arm, his focus blaring, his past just for a moment, forgotten.

BANG!

“The effects of the rohypnol have already worn out. Thankfully she wasn’t given a whole pill. If she experiences any nausea or throws up, please bring her back, should anything else happen, she’ll be okay.”

The words of the doctor rang in Kirishima’s ears. For tonight, they were going to be discharging you to him. Thankfully, it was all happening in Tokyo, so Kirishima’s apartment was near, and if Bakugou was true to his word, it was clean.

With the help of hospital security, he had managed to get your tuxedo concealed body into a car, and the two of you rode off to his apartment. You’ve been silent the entire time, eyes downcasted as you sit pressed to his side, feeling like a small child compared to him. You knew that he was much larger than you, a near two feet taller, but this felt unmatched. 

Kirishima’s jacket was warm around you, it’s sheer largeness another dress on your body, and despite the horrific turn of events, you were feeling warm. You couldn’t remember much of what transpired after stumbling off stage, but you did remember Kirishima bursting through the doors, a look of anger and fear blistering off his person in such a way that made you whimper when you remembered.

You remembered the onsen basically every night, cursing your stupid makeup team for interrupting a night that definitely would have ended with you fucking Kirishima. You cursed yourself for being a coward and not just saying fuck it and fucking him afterward despite the brief awkwardness.

He wanted you, it was clear as day, and you wanted him as well.

Tonight.

“Sorry about how small my apartment is, or if it’s messy, I don’t actually know if my friends have been keeping up with it,” Kirishima apologized, guiding you into the apartment by the small of your back. “You’ll be safe here tonight, and I promise we can get back to your own place tomorrow!”

“Oh, don’t apologize, it’s okay,” you smile, feeling flushed as you cross the entryway to the apartment. His apartment, despite not being home in so long, is clean. The halls aren’t messy, and a hint of lavender is saturated to the air. The dim hallway lights were barely bright enough to cause you to squint as it was dark out. “Thank you for having me tonight, especially after everything.”

At the hospital, you had been given a pair of sweats and a cotton t-shirt. The change in outfit from your event dress was definitely needed, and even though you were sure your makeup was streaked down your face, you felt good hidden in the depths of Kirishima’s jacket.

“Are you hungry?” Kirishima asked, handing over his guest slippers, which you gratefully accepted. “I might have some microwaveable food leftover.”

“Ramen doesn’t sound too bad,” you admit as Kirishima unbuttons the first few buttons on his white dress shirt. You were instantly captivated by the movement, your eyes shifting back to his face when he began to walk off towards the kitchen.

Kirishima talked warmly, keeping the conversation going merrily and bright throughout the entire time in the kitchen. He undoubtedly knew you weren’t entirely okay, and at moments like this, you were entirely grateful for his sweet personality. 

To be fair, you knew that you had been quite unfair to Kirishima in the beginning. Looking back at the first entire month of knowing him, you were horrified and impressed that Kirishima didn’t demand to be dropped. You had been selfish, stubborn, a bottom line brat, and he took it day after day. It wasn’t that you disliked him back then; hell, you had been in a near state of delirium when he entered the door during your first meeting because you had no idea such huge men existed to the caliber of his hotness.

But you resisted and might have been harsher than needed.

It was okay now; after all, if he was genuinely bitter about that entire month still, the onsen said otherwise.

It didn’t take long for your stomach to be filled with warm broth, soft boiled eggs, and ramen noodles. Kirishima did, in fact, have ramen, fresh eggs, and some vegetables. In a grand act of preparing you the most sufficient dinner he could, Kirishima presented this under budget ramen and laughed when you said it was terrific.

But it was growing late.

The two of you still sat at his table that was full of a card game, your empty ramen bowls, and cups of water. The clock on the oven read 23:38, and the city lights were slowly dying.

“Are you ready for bed?” Kirishima eventually asked you. 

You looked up from your joined hands; your fingers had been playing with his thick and long fingers for some time now. The apartment grew steadily quieter as you studied and attempted to memorize each callous and scar on his hands. They were definitely marked and nicked, the sign of the warrior he once was.

“Depends on the bed,” you tease, lips rising into a small smile as you compare your much tinier hands than his. Your fingertips barely passed the edge of his palm. “What does a big guy like you sleep in? A twin? Tatami mat?”

Kirishima laughed, his hands twisting in yours, wrapping it around so that he raised your hands up to press a kiss to the center of your palms. 

“A futon, brat,” Kirishima explained, his smile small but sharp with his humor. “Let’s get you to bed?”

You frown. 

“Where will you be sleeping then?”

“My couch is just fine.”

“I’m sure your stuffing in a trash bag had holes in it.”

“That’s okay,” Kirishima laughed, standing up and quickly taking you to your feet as well. “It’s just for a night, I’ll live.”

Your face warmed immediately as he guided you down the hallway of his apartment before finally coming into what was definitely his room.

Kirishima’s scent was faint in this room, cinnamon, wood, and warm spices. It made your eyes flutter as you observed his room from the entryway as he began to set up the room. 

His eye for interior decoration was quite… different. You smiled brightly as you glanced around; the diverse and rather boyish decorations around the room warmed your heart. It seemed exactly like what you would think of for Kirishima. 

“Well, that’s all!” Kirishima exclaimed, his hands landing on his hips in triumph as he looked around. “The bathroom is the next door over, and I’ll leave a toothbrush out for you. I also left out a new t-shirt of mine if you want to change!”

You nod some more, watching as Kirishima seems unsure of what to do next. He looks around, coughs a bit before nodding.

“Okay, I’ll be leaving—”

“Um, can we talk?” you interrupt, arms wrapping around your body. “I have some things I want to say.”

“Oh, sure!”

“You can sit,” you say, motioning toward the bed. “I have a few things to get off my chest.”

Kirishima pauses for a bit, his eyes looking you over before he eventually nods, and he sits down. The bed slightly creaks under his weight, and you feel your body warm-up at the sound. You want to hear the bed creak more, to rock under the weight of you and him pressed against the sheets as you cried his name.

“What is it?” he asks gently, observing you.

“I just…” you huff, words failing you, your tongue feeling heavy. “I wanted to say thank you for saving me.”

“It was my job to do that,” Kirishima smiled warmly, his arms crossing again.

He was relaxed.

“I mean, I can’t even begin to believe that it was Kimiko who was behind all that, even though we know it was… I know it was,” you trail off, shivering slightly as you remember your ex-managers demented laugh in your ear. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“Nothing would’ve happened to you,” Kirishima spoke with finality. “I promised to myself at the first meeting I was going to protect you, hell the entire world would. You’re not going to be taken down by pathetic people like that, not you.”

“Really?”

“One hundred percent.”

“I feel like I should repay you in some way, though,” you rub the back of your neck, eyes fluttering just the slightest bit flirtatious. Kirishima looked at you with full mooned eyes, his arms unfolding and his palms resting onto the bedspread.

“You repay me plenty already,” came his whispered answer, so quiet, so pure you almost smiled. “You don’t have to do anything.”

Your tongue pushes past your lip, wetting the drying skin as you take a step toward him. The shoulders of the jacket slowly fall from your own shoulders, pooling just above your elbows as you stop before him, hands resting daintily on his broad shoulders.

“And what if I want something?” you ask, finding yourself stemming with energy as his legs part, allowing you closer access to him. 

You step in closer and closer until your outer thighs are ghosting against the inner part of his.

“I think it’s in our contract for me to do everything that you request if I remember correctly,” Kirishima whispers, his bright clear red eyes turning a burnt shade: dark and ever consuming. 

“And if I want you to finish what you started over at the onsen?” you press, fingers curling against the muscles of his shoulders before locking behind his neck.

His nose was brushing against yours, cold yet burning against your own skin.

“I’ll gladly show you what I wanted to do that night,” he grunts, eyes deadly, and for the first time, his hands held your waist.

You took a second to recover, your skin sparking with the electricity of his touch, and you suppressed a shiver as you opened your eyes.

“Do it,” you cement your fates, “coward.”

And just like that, in a movement so euphoric, Kirishima’s mouth crashed against yours.

His mouth was hot, dangerous against yours -- a live wire sparking with uncontrollable energy and heat as your mouths danced. Hot puffs of air were passed between your mouths, your fingers shaking with an undeniable release of tension and want. 

The kiss was sloppy, desperate, so needy with unspoken frantic determination to fuck each other until the other could no longer move. 

Kirishima’s hand removed the jacket from your arms, letting the expensive material fall onto the floor with a heavy thud. Despite the lack of warmth the clothing provided, the feeling of Kirishima’s hands rubbing against your bare arms sent your mind spiraling.

“Get on the bed,” Kirishima commands against your mouth. “Let me fuck you.”

The words were nearly embarrassingly desperate, but the tone of his voice spoke of the absolute domination he wished to assert on you. He wanted you in one exact way, and you had a feeling you knew what it was. But if he had been paying attention, Kirishima should already know that getting you to listen was not easy.

“No,” you grin against his mouth.

Kirishima pulls away instantly, his lips red and swollen as he replays your word in his head. He looks frazzled, absolutely delirious already at the simple, passion-filled makeout. As soon as his eyes clear away the fog, your grin drops, and instead, you look at him with fierce determination and defiance. 

“No?” he repeats.

“No,” you confirm.

Your chest feels light, your head spinning as the hands on your waist tighten, and his eyes flash dangerously. The tip of his tongue pushes past his lips before quickly disappearing again. 

“Of course, you’re a brat in bed too, such a fucking princess,” Kirishima shakes his head, but his mouth curving into a shark-like grin. 

Menacing, promising, sending chilling shivers down your spine.

The world spins faster than you can keep up, your mouth opening to shriek as Kirishima easily lifts you up, and has you lying against his lap. 

“I’m going to let you in on a little secret, princess,” Kirishima begins, his large fingers hooking into the waistband of the sweats you have on and the panties you’re wearing. “My princess gets rewards for being good. If she can behave properly, she gets to be fucked with dick, her pussy gets to be fucked just the way she pleases.”

You can’t help but stifle a moan that threatens to spill out with his words and the way his hands move down the curve of your ass, exposing the naked skin to him. The waistband of both your panties and sweats stay high up your thighs, and it’s almost embarrassing to know you’re still so clothed despite what’s to come.

“And just what does the Sergeant do to bad girls?” you ask, unable to keep your tongue down, your hips rolling against his lap in undeserved friction.

Unexpectedly, abruptly, a hand comes down harshly onto your bare ass.

The contact is rough, stinging against your ass as you cry out in slight pain.

The hand not currently rubbing a warning circle into your ass twists the hair at the top of your head, lifting your head up so that your ear could near his mouth.

“Bad girls get punishments. They get what I want to give them. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Holy shit,” you whimper, heat flaring between your thighs at the thought of Kirishima doing anything to you regardless of if you were good or bad. You rut your ass back against his hand, longing for a heavier touch, a plea for something more.

“What does the princess want?”

“Nothing,” you bite, and the crashing smack of another spank has you moaning loudly at the stinging pleasure-filled pain. 

“You moaning like a whore at a simple spank says otherwise,” Kirishima chuckles darkly, his fingers pinching your stinging ass as your body bucks against him. He spanks you again, again, and again. Each slap is intentful, powerful, wanting to get you to admit what you want, and you cry against your hands each time, your eyes fluttering as the pain feels good. 

“Of course, a slut like you would be getting off on this,” Kirishima seems amused, his thick finger pressing to the slit of your cunt, spreading your dripping essence against your cunt. He presses against your entrance with just the tip of his finger, and you shriek in a sound for more, your hips jerking backward to get his finger into you, to fuck you with those thick fingers to do something about the growing desperate heat. 

“Kirishima!” you scream, your body sweating and twisting on his lap, desperate to find some way to get him to finger fuck you. 

“Ah, there we go,” he sighs in delight as his fingers swirl at your entrance, increasing the teasing and making your mind spin. “Tell me what you want, brat.”

“You!” you wail, two of his fingers carting between your wet, sloppy heated lips. They graze your clit, stimulating you further as you can do nothing but instinctively jerk against his hold, trying to get him to give you the needed pleasure to build up to an orgasm. “I want you to fuck me so good! Please, Sergeant, please, I want you to fuck me until I can’t remember anything but your name.”

“But you haven’t proven to be a good princess,” Kirishima tuts, his hands disappearing from your pussy despite your crying pleas. His hand grabs your ass, though, massaging the abused skin, grasping it tightly.

You moan, embarrassed at the sensation of his massive hand easily cupping your ass cheek, your fingers fisting into the fabric of his pants as you shake your head.

“Are you going to prove that you’re good?” he asks you, his tone like that of a parent chastising a child. “Gonna prove to me that you can be good?”

You shake pathetically against his legs, but you can’t keep yourself from shaking your head. You can’t prove to him that you would be.

“I can’t!” you whimper loudly, your body twisting on his lap to look up at him, your eyes filled with tears and pleading need. Kirishima looked down at you with lust filled eyes and an undeniable need to be followed.

“You can’t?” he repeats, his head tilting, eyes narrowing, and his fingers dug into your ass. “Or you won’t?”

You tremble on top of him, unable to answer because you weren’t ready to hand over the reins just yet. You didn’t want to submit so fast, you wanted to make his own head dizzy with need but the stubbornness to continue punishing you the way he was promising.

“I won’t,” you gasp, eyes fluttering at the way he finally drops your head.

You gasp loudly as you find him shoving you off his lap, and with your panties and sweats sitting so awkwardly high on your legs, you find yourself tumbling off his lap and onto the floor.

“Guess if you don’t want to behave, I’ll treat you like some fucking pussy pocket and dispose of you once I’m done,” Kirishima easily breathes, and you look up at the now standing man as he tears his shirt off.

Your mouth waters, your cunt throbbing at the sight of the rippling muscles and dark lines of his tattoos on his upper body. You watch fascinated, like one does to a masterpiece, as he undresses until he’s in nothing but his socks. And at the sight of his dick, you can feel at once all the blood in your flushed face drop directly into your throbbing cunt.

He was fucking enormous, his girth barely fitting into his hand, and the angry red head spilled its precum against his abs. A black happy trail connecting Kirishima’s abs to his vein throbbing cock.

Holy fuck, he could quickly kill you with that.

Kirishima doesn’t ask any questions as he watches your awkwardly dressed state of a body on the floor. His head is tilted upwards, a small pleased smile on his face as he looks down on you, his hand slowly, leisurely fisting his cock as you can do nothing but stare.

You make some insane noise at the back of your throat at this sight, your thighs trembling with need, and you're pushing off your side, your ass burning, and your balance off as you open your mouth, offering all you could to him.

And thankfully, Kirishima allows it.

He’s much too tall for you to suck him off on your knees, so he sits back down onto the bed, letting you scamper between his legs, mouth open wide like some needy pet.

“Such a good little slut,” Kirishima sighs, sinking his cock into your wet, hot mouth. “Such a fucking cockwhore, all it took was a single glance for you to lose your will.”

You whine against his dick, your jaw tight with the stretch, your tongue lapping so desperately around the cock that was no more than halfway in yet couldn’t go in any further.

“Suck me right, and I’ll reward you by fucking that pretty little pussy of yours,” Kirishima grunts, his fingers pressing into the side of your neck as he ruts his hips up into your mouth, shoving his cock even further into your mouth. “And don’t you dare look away from me while you suck me off.”

It feels like fire.

His cock driving down your throat hurts, the taste of his salty pre-cum slathering all over your tongue and dripping out of your mouth with the saliva you can’t control. His cock hits the back of your throat, and you continue to bob your head, continue to fuck him with your throat as animalistic, praiseworthy noises begin spilling from Kirishima’s mouth.

You whimper at the sight of his head dipping back, and you nearly whine when he shoves the fingers he had gathered your juices on into his mouth. He moans at the contact and with his pleasure with your actions so obvious as you choke against his girth. That was hot, holy fuck, you wanted him to fuck you, please fuck you. 

Your eyes close as he begins to fuck faster into your mouth, his delight in hearing you choke around him his driving force. Tears start pouring from your eyes despite your best efforts, your throat and inner thighs burning with lust and need as Kirishima groans, his cock twitching deep in your throat.

Slap!

“Hey!”

Slap!

You gag harshly as your cheeks sting with his heavy slap, your teeth grazing underneath his cock, right against a thick, twisting vein.

“Did I tell you to close your eyes?” Kirishima practically growls, his hands grasping the back of your neck, the other one slapping you across the face yet again. “No. I said… fuck… I said, keep your eyes on me!”

Tears weep down your face, your eyes struggling to keep focus on him as he continued to fuck deep and intensely into your mouth, shoving himself further into you until you could feel his thighs grazing your chin. Oxygen wasn’t flowing anymore; your gags and chokes the only time the burning element could manage to flow through you, but Kirishima doesn’t seem to care. He seems to delight in the way you are, despite it all, are moaning and looking at him in a pleading way for more.

More, you plead.

And he delivers. 

Kirishima pulls his still hard, not yet cummed, dick out of your mouth and stands. 

You splutter with the sudden intake of oxygen to your lungs, burning you from the inside out as you splutter on the ground.

“W-What’s going on?” you hoarsely stammer, your jaw and throat aching from its prolonged abuse. “E-Ei?”

However, Kirishima seems dead set on getting you naked, and you squeal in flustered excitement as he rips the shirt off of you and his mouth pressing against yours again. His mouth crashes against yours, and you moan into his mouth immediately.

His tongue curls into your mouth and your tongues press and rub against each other. Each passing second growing more desperate, needier, more intense as your clothes are ripped one by one off your body.

“Holy fuck, I’ve wanted you for so long,” Kirishima nearly whines, his mouth trailing down your neck, biting and sucking against every centimeter of skin he passed. “Wanted to fuck you against the wall, in my bed, and now I get to do that.”

“Please, please, fuck me, please,” you beg, your voice bordering a wail as your arms wrap around his neck, letting him lift you up off the floor. Despite you being so much smaller than him that when he held you to him, your cunt wasn’t pressed to his angry leaking cock, you continued to desperately roll your hips against his abs, the friction welcomed and easing the building pressure. It was an action conveying just what you wanted. “I need you in me, Sergeant!”

“Just cuz… holy fuck,” Kirishima breathes ragged, his body twisting around, and you cried when the cold sheets pressed into your back. “Imma fuck you, Imma… god, just fucking watch.”

Your head thrashed back onto the pillow as Kirishima’s teeth sunk into your collarbone, then captured your sensitive nipples, his fingers dancing against your clit and teasing your center. 

“Now!” you cry, fingers digging into his shoulder. “Put it in!”

This time, Kirishima didn’t need to be told twice.

His larger body was suddenly pressed entirely against yours, dwarfing you immediately as your arms wrapped around his back as his cock slammed into you. You screamed at the sudden intrusion, your pussy stretched beyond its typical limits by his girth, his size, his power.

Your cunt throbbed around him, your face buried within his pecs as you, despite the searing pain, shove your hips up towards him. Fucking into him, sucking him further into you.

“Holy shit,” Kirishima groans, “you’re amazing.”

“Talk less, fuck me more!” you screech, your body spasming, twitching so hard from the splitting pleasure and the lava pit in your stomach, and Kirishima does that exactly.

His hips begin to meet yours in equaled power, slamming into you so that the bed creaked beneath you. He fucked you until he had to hold a hand on your hip so you could stay there, and you kept a hand on the wall to continue to push yourself down onto his cock.

You screamed with pleasure, cried for more, Kirishima’s shark-like smirk getting bolder, darker, hotter with every slam of his hips until his tattooed right arm shot down. His hand wrapped around your throat, choking you.

“You’re so loud, princess,” Kirishima moans, clearly liking your loud noises, “but you’re going to wake everyone in Tokyo.”

His hand around your throat is enough to have your legs trembling around his waist, your choked and muffled moans and splutters drowning out even more as he pressed a kiss onto you. He kissed you, licking your mouth, and devouring your every word and thought. Your core twisted, tightened, and burned. It throbbed and clenched with it’s impending orgasm, and your body began to tense to the heavens as his cock throbbed deep within you.

“Who saved you?”

“E-Ei did,” you garble.

“Who’s fucking you?”

“E-Ei is!”

“Who’s going to fucking cum when I tell her to?”

“Me! Fuck, me!”

Kirishima laughs, his arms wrapping around your waist, and in one final, fleeting burst of strength, fucks into you with his own power, needs, and desire, and you can only take it. “Cum, princess,” he whispered almost sweetly against the top of your head, and it was all over. Your teeth sink into his chest as you scream, a blinding white light erupting through your vision as you cum around his cock.

Kirishima whimpers, his cock still pushing deep into your cunt, until you can feel the warm spill of his seed in your womb.

He collapses to the side of you, taking you with him so that you were resting on his sweaty chest.

“Holy shit,” Kirishima whispered after a bit, your body already warm and too lethargic to notice the star-like tone to his voice. “That was fucking… holy shit.”

“Does this mean you like me?” you half tease, half wonder.

There’s a pause, a silence, and you wonder if maybe he had fallen asleep.

But he didn’t.

“I’ve been in love with you for some time now, I think,” he admits, his hand beginning to rub small circles into your back.

You find that despite the exhaustion, warmth floods your cheeks.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I guess we’re going to have to discuss a more… permanent and maybe different contract tomorrow morning, huh?”

Kirishima chuckles, and you find yourself smiling into his chest.

“I think we do.”

#kirishima x reader #kirishima smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha