#also pain in the ass and bastards are another one of his favorite

[continuous-spec]

Still one of my favorite details of Garrus’ writing is that one of his go to curses is crap.

Flubbing in flirting? Crap

Mech showing up for a fight? Crap

About to get blown up by a bomb? Crap

[maxwell-grant]

I'm seeing several popular react to the Penguin show with "God I wanna see Batman kick his ass in the next movie". Which, for a show about a Batman villain, is probably an indication of succeess

Are you kidding me it fucking rules, there's no "probably" here, the show couldn't possibly have achieved what it set out to do harder.

I've talked with people, as Episode 7 was coming out, that they've managed to strike this perfect balance between making Oz the fun engaging protagonist to watch, and making him a villain that we'll want to face justice, opposite Sofia who tread the line between his Batman Villain arch-nemesis as well as the closest the show has to a hero. The camera loves her, the costume designers and hair stylists love her, the showrunner calls her the hero of the show, production folks who go on the podcast talk about how she was their favorite character to work on, while Oz, the protagonist, only grew darker and more despised and more fucked-up as the weeks passed, as we sit through 8 hours chipping away at all of his fun and charm and wacko comedy antics and motivations and all the scruples and principles that he turns out to have less and less of, that become less and less useful to him, until he butchers them all in the very end along with the heart of the show.

As I saw it around week 6, by the time this thing was over, Sofia would demand to be received with tragic applause and heartbreak and whooping cheers and love, but Oswald would have the children of the world booing and hissing and throwing eggs and tomatoes at him, and then asking him to come back so they can do it again. AND I WAS RIGHT, and also I WILDLY underestimated the degree to which that would be warranted, and I certainly didn't expect that, for the first time in my life, I would be unconditionally and enthusiastically on the same side as everyone who posted that Arkham scene, where Batman picks up Penguin and smashes him against a mirror, as something Battison has to do in the next movie. I couldn't believe what a stab to the heart that last episode was.

I'l get into the specifics of why this worked more on the Episode 8 breakdown and, granted, it's a lot to conciliate still, it's genuinely a strange feeling to be onboard with everyone else who wants Penguin to be flattened and crushed and humiliated, to truly hate him as a loathsome monster for the first time ever even as I love him in so many new fucked-up ways. This is, make no mistake, the good version of the Joker's Asylum one-off, Pain and Prejudice, Bullies, all those modern stories that are ultimately about nothing more than reminding you of a super-duper serious evil bastard this funny little man is, stories I generally just find too dumb and reductive and ugly and tasteless and trying so very damn hard to be scary without working for it. This was Lauren LeFranc slam dunking everyone who's picked up this character since Jason Aaron in 2007, including Jason Aaron himself, and wherever they take him in the next movie, or if they can justify another season of this, they've fully set him up more than ever as a guy we will want to be exploded by the Batmobile, that he not only fully deserves it, but must, be defeated for good.

Beyond impressed, don't think I could have ever anticipated how much I wanted this.

[recreationalfanfics]

Yandere Two-Face x Gn! Reader drabble

Doll is used as a term of endearment but gn bc tbh, that's peak endearment ngl.

Harvey knows its wrong.

Harvey knows it won't end the way he wants it to, he wasn't even sure if he wanted you or if it was the pain of losing Gilda, but he knew it would only end up with you hurt. Maybe even worse. He tries to use the coin to figure out ways to get over you. Heads, he lifts weights at the court yard to try and get his mind off of you. Tails, he tries to strike up a conversation with some of the other loonies. Yeah, it hurt his head to hear them ramble and babble about who knows what, but it hurt even more having to think about you.

You, his favorite psychiatrist. One who would start off each session with a simple coin toss. Heads, you talk to Harvey first. Tails, you talk to Two-Face. He hates all the times you landed on tails, all the times that monster got to speak to you instead of him, all the times that no-good-gangster got to lavish in your attention and he didn't. However, it's what fate chose and he knew all to well that fate had it out for him, because if it wasn't then maybe you two could have met under different circumstances. He liked when you looked at him, he wasn't sure how to explain it, but he knew when you did. The way your eyes would soften along with his tone and mannerisms when he finally got to switch off with that bastard. It made him smile, almost shy perhaps. He missed it, he missed you, but he closed his eyes and groaned as his thoughts once more came back to you. Rubbing his face with his hands, he rolled over onto his back as his brain was at war with itself.

He needed to stop thinking about you. About you in his arms as you stare at him lovingly with those haunting (e/c) eyes, at images of him flipping a coin to decide if he should surprise you with breakfast in bed or by doing all the laundry, or at the idea of you no longer having to work and staying at home for him, your eyes lighting up as he walked through the door and running up to him excitedly with open arms. It won't come true, he knows it, but he wanted it to so badly.

Two-Face doesn't care.

Ever since your transfer to Iron Gate in Central City, he had become more unruly, more prone to violence and roughousing with other inmates and becoming an overall pain in the ass to all the staff. Harvey'll try and rationalize it for him, that you were a psychologist and that he was just another patient to you, but you can't rationalize with someone who isn't concerned reason and logic. Instead, Two-Face was more concerned that something of HIS was walking around the world, unchecked and unsupervised, and ANYONE could try and get their grubby little mitts all over you. The very idea got his fingers curling into a fist and his knuckles aching to be uppercutting some poor unsuspecting victim. He was mad at the other quacks who thought they could reach the same places you reached, he was mad at the prison warden for approving your transfer to Iron Heights, but he was mostly mad at you for going.

While Harvey skulked, Two-Face schemed. All he could think about were plans to escape Arkham, hunt you down, and drag you back to Gotham. Right where you belonged, beside him. At first, he was just becoming more prone to "disruptive outbursts" but all Arkham inmates get rowdy here and then, then he started becoming difficult during therapy sessions. Not that he wasn't in the first place but with you gone, he didn't want to talk to someone who had the audacity to sat where you sat, who tried to flip a coin and pretend to understand him like you did. Not that you were pretending, deep down, you did understand. You understood that deep down, Harvey Dent was still in there...but you also understood that at the end of the day, Two-Face was staying and never talked about him like he was some imaginary figure Harvey made up in his head that will be cured after a few sessions and a little surgery. It's what he liked most about you, you gave him due respect.

At least he thought you did until you left. It doesn't matter, though, because you're coming back home. Walking out of Arkham Asylum during another prison break, his boys were quick to pick up their boss and give him the run down on you, handing him candid photos of your new day-to-day life. You're just the sweetest when you're oblivious to danger, you know that?

"Should we really do this? I could be putting them in more danger, but maybe this also isn't a bad thing...No, it doesn't change the fact it's still wrong!"

"Quit your whining, Harvey. If you're so concerned about what we should do or not, flip for it."

He takes out his infamous coin. Heads; they change their mind and just drive back to base, another day, another crime in Gotham City. Tails; they prepare a pretty little cell for you and get ready for your little return to Gotham. He throws it up in the air, his eyes staring up at it. His eye on the right is pleading and anxious, waiting for the coin to tell him what to do so he could stop feeling so guilty about wanting to have you to himself. The left side was tense but also maliciously giddy as the coin then fell into the palm of his hand. His fingers curled around it like a fist and he's about to open it to reveal the result of their toss...but he never does.

Instead with a deep sigh, he pockets the coin and he gives his boy's orders on how to observe you, on how to get ready for your return.

"I'm sorry, (Y/n), but this is for your own good." Harvey apologizes, standing before your fearful form in your new apartment.

"No it ain't, you just belong to me. Simple as that, doll~" Two-Face boasts, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you to his chest.

Harvey knows its wrong, Two-Face doesn't care. Yet, no matter how you flip it, you were doomed either way because that's just what cruel fate had in store for you.

[peachesvanilla]

Another day

Pairing: Baekhyun x reader

Genre: fluff, bf! Baekhyun

Notes: a mix of everything (?) I’m slowly trying to get back into writing so starting pieces I do will be random. So, please be understanding.

Baekhyun stretches his neck holding his nape, a sigh escapes his lips as his muscles relax. Every part of his body is screaming pain in tiredness. Working late two consecutive nights sucks his soul out of his body, and living two days with bare minimum texts with his girl is close to losing his mind. But tonight marks the end of the overnight streak, he is finally in his girl’s building.

His lips tilt into a smile thinking about the smile he will get once she sees him. He clicks on the lock button twice on his car key and makes way to the elevator. Another man closer to his age is also waiting for the elevator, giving him a polite smile Baekhyun unlocks his phone, going through the mails he got. A notification pops from her. Tiredness runs out of his body as excitement takes its place, a smile breaks out on his face, he leans on the wall opening her message.

Yah, Byun Baekhyun! Remember to eat!!! If I got to know you skipped your meals again… you know what happens right?

Baekhyun barks out a laugh remembering the one time he was working his ass off and forgot to eat the whole day only to end up in hospital for blanking out. She barreled in, screaming at him with tears in her eyes and then sobbing hard that he had to console her for two hours and make sure he was still alive and breathing.

The elevator doors open with a ding, Baekhyun pushes himself off the wall considering telling her he is coming or keep it a surprise.

“Which floor?” The man asks.

“Fifth, please.” Baekhyun answers, locking his phone, deciding to surprise her. He should learn to keep surprises from her and not ruin it beforehand just because he can’t shut his mouth.

The man sighs, “I wish I lived on that floor too.”

“Pardon?”

He laughs, waving his hand. “There’s this girl who lives on that floor, she is really pretty.” He grins, dropping his head. “I tried talking to her but I guess she doesn’t talk much.”

Baekhyun gives an understanding nod to end the conversation. He spins his phone between his fingers watching the floor numbers move up slowly.

“You must have seen her,” the annoying man continues, “you will know her once you see her. Prettiest among the pretty.”

They are still stuck on the third floor, Baekhyun swears in his head. He should have waited and rode the elevator alone.

“She is staying at 505. Which flat are you staying at?”

Baekhyun grits his teeth. That’s my girl. He turns to the man now, facing him and giving a once over. Decent. If Baekhyun was any younger he might have bloodied his knuckles by now or bark out profanities. But he is thirty now, way past of the childish acts.

He leans on the elevator wall, rubbing his lower lip. “You can try,” he shrugs one shoulder.

The elevator opens with a ding. He pushes himself off the wall and walks out. But thirty means he isn’t going to sit and watch.

He turns his head to the side, “but what can we do, she isn’t going to look.”

The man startles, leaning to the edge of the elevator.

“She’s busy looking at me.” A devilish grin sneaks up his lips watching the man take a step back and the elevator doors shut.

He cracks his head to the side, unbuttoning his suit and tugs his tie, loosening it. The tension in his body piles up, the blood rushes to his head. That bastard had better not stalked her.

He marches up to her door and presses in the password on the lock. Twisting the door handle open he enters into the dark apartment.

The smell of vanilla and peach washes eases him. He bends down, removing his shoes and setting them in its designated space. His ears perk up at the clink of pans and spoons, he scrunches his nose and a growl emanates from his stomach at the delicious smell of his favorite chicken soup.

With urgence in his steps he discards his suit on the couch he makes his way into the dimly lit kitchen. She isn’t feeling good, he comprehends from the signs of her house. Dim lights, no TV playing in the background or her humming out of tune of her favorite songs.

She is standing in the middle of the small kitchen, hands in her hair and eyes closed. Her body is shaking slightly, and he swears he heard a whimper. His heart drops to his stomach, with one long stride he engulfs her in a tight hug from behind.

His nose is buried in her hair, “I’m sorry.” He whispers the same words over and over in the intimacy of closed space, and his heart breaks a little hearing her sobs. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

She twists around in his arms, her red eyes take in his features. “I missed you.”

Baekhyun’s shoulders sag, words not leaving his mouth seeing her so broken. She was acting strong in the messages she sent all this time. He closes his eyes in pain, how can he let this happen. He pulls her head onto his heart, circling his hands around her tightly. He lets her be till she calms down.

They are on the couch, Baekhyun holding her hand, playing with her fingers, his gaze never once leaving her face. She sniffles, muttering something. He curls the stranded hair behind her ear, “can you say it once again, baby.”

Her eyes lift from the couch to his face, fresh tears brimming her eyes again. “Bad day,” she answers.

“Another bad customer?” he cradles her face, snaking his hand around her hips he lifts her up and settles her on his lap. She nods, holding his shirt. Her finger tracing the wet patch on his chest. He leans in kissing her temple and nuzzles his nose in her hair. “What did they say?”

She hiccups. “Th-that I’m a fraud and,” her head dips down, “I should close my business.”

Baekhyun detests the way she looks at herself. It has been a recurrent thing, the hate comments. He knows she is handling them well these days but it doesn’t sit with him well. The first time he saw her shatter made him riled up and wanted to grab them by the neck whoever caused pain to her. After thorough investigation on his side he found out that the customer just wanted to escape paying. Oh, the way he dragged her out was satisfying to say the least.

If he can, he will do it again.

“Baby,” he whispers, holding her chin, “look at me.” A tear drops from her left eye, he wipes it off her cheek. “You and I know that you are not what they say.” She nods. “I appreciate what you do, and I really really love your work.”

She hums, twirling the button on his shirt.

“Just because someone says it, it won’t become true. And I really want you to see yourself as a hardworking, talented and pure person as you are.” He rubs her back in reassurance. “And there’s only love filled in your products.” He kisses her tear stained cheek. “Alright?”

She nods, turning her head to the side, pressing a kiss on his cheek. His heart skips a beat, feeling the softness of her lips and the little “thank you, Baek.”

“Anything for you.” He smiles, booping her red nose with his finger. “Can you do one thing for me?”

Her eyes narrow in suspicion. “I don’t think so.”

“Just once. Can you show me what that customer said?”

She pushes his chest, leaning back. “No.”

“Please, baby.” He slips his hand under her shirt, enjoying her body shiver under his touch. “I won’t do anything.” The lie slips easily.

“Not believing you even one bit.” She climbs down his lap, disappearing into the kitchen. He follows her. She puts the chicken soup back in the microwave, heating it. “I was doing great in handling it and you appeared out of nowhere.”

Grabbing a tissue he passes it to her. She wipes her runny nose. “Tell me Mr.Byun, to what do I owe this pleasure of meeting you?”

He shrugs. “Missing my favorite girl.” He peppers kisses on her neck, running his nose along the length. “Why are you so pretty?”

She folds her hands and gives a blank look. “Dude I have a runny nose, red eyes and my hair is a mess.”

He laughs, pinching her waist. “Don’t call me dude.” He runs his eyes over her face, “still pretty for me.” He kisses the tip of her nose. “So, chicken soup.”

She tilts her head to the side, “yeah..? Are you giving up on that customer? Just like that?”

He shrugs. “Just like that.” He rubs the side of her stomach, “chicken soup, please. I’m hungry.” He grabs the bowls from the cabinet.

Setting up the bowls on the table he excuses himself. Once he is out of her eyesight he unlocks her mobile and goes through her dms. He notes down the customer details and sets back her phone on the couch.

And he remembers someone else.

“Do you remember anyone looking at you creepily or trying something weird?”

She sets the soup pot, drags her chair out. “You?” She blinks up at him innocently.

“Cute. But no.” He deadpans.

“I tried.” She giggles. “No one is creepy.” She tilts her head, “I don’t even go out. So,” she scratches her head, “you again?”

He flicks her forehead before sitting beside her. “Stop trying to be cheeky.” She doesn’t even know that creepy elevator guy existed. Just like he thought.

[beevean]

What did you think of Olrox from Nocturne?

Personally, I couldn't care much about him. They put so much focus on him that he's more of a main character than the actual protagonists of Nocturne. Not to mention, his romantic subplot with Mizrak came out of nowhere and it's only there for "diversity", but I considered it to be a waste of time that should've been spent on anything else.

On top of that, it seems like the writers are desperately pushing to make him likeable for someone who killed Richter's mom and caused his trauma in the opening episode. If the writers decide to pull an Abby (from The Last of Us) on N!Olrox and give him a redemption arc or make Richter forgive him enough to not kill him in the next season, I'm gonna riot.

I would say they split Isaac into two characters: Olrox got the alleged moral complexity, and Annette got the favoritism :P

Anyway, in a show that has regressed to the level of "vampires are 100% evil bastards with no souls", quite a far cry from the original show's insistence that vampires are actually a noble superior race with a culture and all, Olrox feels like he wants to recapture that sort of "depth", being evil but still principled enough to fall in love and go against Sun Thundercat. In practice, I stopped taking him seriously the moment he let little Richter live, because my good man, wouldn't a more appropriate revenge against Julia be killing the brat and forcing the mother to live through the pain? C'mon game Isaac understood this! Leaving the child alive and allowing him to grow up with a grudge is so fucking stupid, it was mentioned in the Evil Overlord List written in 1990 😭 "All younger siblings, spouses, children, students, and old army buddies of an enemy I have just killed will be hunted down to prevent them from attacking me at some future point in a quest for vengeance."

I'm also betting that the moment they reveal more of Olrox, or force him to take a stand, he'll lose most of his charm. In S1, his allure comes from him being a wild card, other than him being hot: the moment he becomes yet another one of Richter's allies, he'll have very little for himself other than his sexiness. Kind of like a male Lenore, now that I think about it, although her hotness was enough that she still has fans and Olrox has yet to rape be a BDSM king to Mizrak :P

Speaking of which! I actually don't mind the relationship between the two. One, we finally moved past from the cliché of lesbians solely defined by their relationship cutely holding hands like Striga and Morana. The original show was a coward that played it safe, and it had the chance of giving Alucard a boyfriend if he was meant to be bi for reasons other than making his rape scene more palatable, but no, he got yet another sassy girlfriend. By contrast, the chemistry between Olrox and Mizrak is positively smoldering, and they do have the relationship issues you'd expect from two who jumped into bed before even learning each other's names lmao. At this point, if every character is allowed more love and care than Richer, I'd rather spend time with these two disasters than Maria, Annette or Alucard.

Of course, that doesn't make them great, and it's because Olrox tries too hard to be hot and tragic, and the most memorable thing about Mizrak is that he looks like Agent Stone from the Sonic movies hjdfkshdk - oh, and alright it is very funny that a man of the cloth apparently stops being religious the moment a piece of vampire ass sways in front of him.

"it seems like the writers are desperately pushing to make him likeable for someone who killed Richter's mom" the original show wanted you to cry for a vampire lord planning to slaughter all humankind and vampirekind in a long agonizing death because 😭wife died😭, a jihadist who killed people for being rude to him and then defiled his corpses to make himself an army because he was ✨philosophical✨, and an abusive rapist willingly engaging in slavery and aiding continental conquest who got a bit 🥺sad🥺 that her friends were pushing her to the side. Olrox is just keeping the tradition of being an unfairly sympathetic antagonist contrasting a much more shallow one, Carmilla/Sun Thundercat - and while his sin is nothing compared to those other three, the idea that we should blame Julia for killing his vampire bf is just tiring, because 1) in this setting vampires are nothing more than greedy monsters, I don't feel sympathy for one we don't even see in flashbacks; 2) it reminds me too much of Alucard being a cunt to Trevor because the Belmonts kept vampire child skulls in the hold, which was a way to tell us that the Belmonts were "morally grey"; 3) will you stop shitting on the whole Belmont clan for fuck's sake?

Anyway, Olrox is far from being the worst part of the show, but I have no faith in how they're going to develop his character while still keeping up the intrigue.

[the-kr8tor]

WAIT WHAT WHY AM I BEING ARRESTED? THIS IS LIKE THE THIRD TIME- ALSO IM SICK TOO SO Daily Hobie HC! I love the stickbug menace its probably concerning but like he's such a bastard i love him No doubt Hobie's tall, towering almost everyone in the spider society, apart from Miguel of course. Because of this, it isn't surprising that he has a habit of leaning against other people and using them as an armrest in a playful, teasing gesture, commonly with Pavitr and you. Not only does he adore using you as an armrest to hear you get huffy about it, but Hobie never misses a chance to randomly pick you up and relocate you completely, walking off like nothing happened while you've been stunlocked for a few moments. Another mildly irritating and amusing 'habit' of Hobie's, was randomly putting rarely used items on the higher shelves and forget them, so that when they were needed, you both would scramble around before Hobie found it, remembering what he had done. Apart from putting things in high places and looming over everyone, Hobie finds a lot of significant disadvantages to being tall. Even in his own bed, he struggles to stretch out fully and keep his entire body under the blanket, often opting to just curl his top body around you and stretch out his legs. Many times you've woken up and stretched out your own legs to feel his straightened out underneath your feet, with his chest resting against your back and his face in your hair. Even if you point it out, Hobie simply denies it and plays it off as his 'favorite way of cuddling you at night', which was a complete lie, but at least he's somehow comfortable, even if he looks like a shrimp. Another disadvantage which Hobie has to suffer with, is knocking his head on things. Although he's developed a good sense with when to duck, sometimes he'll let his guard slip and end up hitting his head on the frames of doors. Luckily, he has you to soothe the bruises while you giggle away at his overdramatic moping. Yet, despite being very tall and knocking into things almost 24/7, Hobie's footsteps are soft, non exist at times and he always manages to spook anyone by simply just hanging behind the person until they notice. One of his favorite perks of being so tall, is being able to have people hang off his arms while he swings them around, like he was an amusement park ride. Hobie loves sometimes giving flukes to scare the people hanging off, jolting slightly as if he 'lost his balance'. Of course, he wouldn't dare do this trick to little kids, only to his close friends and you. If you liked to do handstands, similarly to Gwen, he'll gladly let you use his arms, knowing you'll be a safe distance from the ground to land on your feet if you dropped. -🐦‍⬛

Okay no jail time for you (for now) get well soon angel!

Daily Hobie HC ❤️❤️❤️

Sameee!!! I saw a huge stickbug on my last vacation and my mind was going "it hobie" the entire time

As someone who has tall ass friends back in hs and college, i know the pain of being an armrest for my gigantic friends. Definitely Hobie would do it just because he sees you quiet and peaceful just standing there so ofc he had to ruin that peace by using you as his personal armrest 😂

Stunlocked HAHAHHAHAHAHAHA WHAT ARE WE AN ELDEN RING ENEMY?!

I'm also a firm believer of shrimp Hobie when he sleeps. Also if he ever gets a bigger and taller bed I'm sure he'd still sleep like a shrimp bc he's so used to it 😆

Him hitting his head on top of doors is 50% his fault bc he always jumps when entering doors so he could slap the wall atop it (you know like how guys do back in gym class? A competition who jumps the highest)

You need to baby proof the edges of tables and counters for Hobie 🤣🤣🤣

Imagine coming home to seeing hobie swinging billie and mona around on his long arms

The perks of having long limbs is so you could catch your partner without worrying if your arms are long enough!

[historicfailure]

Love Notes - How bad at flirting can you be?

2nd chapter: He just gets worse

You just wanted to keep your head down. You really did. Unfortunately, Kakashi's mere presence makes your blood boil; though, his actions are even more infuriating.

Hey there ^^

Second chapter, and I'm really happy how the first chapter worked out. Let's see if you guys like the second chapter as much as the first one :D

~ X ~

The notes continued, after you pinned a bright green stick-note to the upper rim of the monitor, making sure that everyone passing by could see it. You even drew a little smiley in the middle of it. When you left, you gave your note an encouraging nod. The next day, the note was gone, replaced by another, innocent note with a few more encouraging words which made you smile into your hands, before you looked around to see if you would catch someone in the act of watching you.

No one was even looking into your vague direction, too busy doing their assigned tasks.

Over the weeks following, you had lots of time to assemble a little pile of beautifully written, carefully folded and nicely worded small letters. You kept all of them in the small box in your desk, secured and only opened when you added the latest one. These messages of positivity, shy compliments and sometimes even little doodles oozed some kind of old charm to you. The writer obviously didn’t want to tell you his identity, and as far as you were concerned, you had no idea if he even hinted at it either. Too new, too inexperienced on inside jokes between the older colleagues. Sometimes, the notes were just a sentence long, a simple compliment to your work or wishing you a good day. Sometimes, they would be longer, describing little habits of yours and becoming nearly poetical in their compliments which would’ve been creepy if you hadn’t given the writer permission to send you further notes and if the compliments weren’t always borderline cute and innocent, never distasteful or bordering on crude.

On really special days, you would open a note and find a little drawing doodled on the paper. Mostly different dogs in funny little vests, sometimes flowers, and sometimes even rough sketches of people around the office in different poses. These were your favorite. The doodles, despite looking rough and like they were done in great haste, had a distinctive style and beauty to them.

While your bond with the secret note-writer grew and blossomed, the relationship with the goddamn arrogant bastard (a personal favorite of yours when you complained about his newest idiocy to Anko, Kurenai and Shizune) worsened and the already hard feelings between the two of you only seemed to harden with every argument. Your compilations of information on other marketing bureaus, reports, files, past campaigns you worked on, every little bit and piece of work you ever had done, Hatake seemed to know about and use it to get on your nerves, criticizing and making sly remarks at every opportunity he got. Sometimes, you even had the feeling he went out of his way to be a massive, annoying inconvenience especially for you when it came to your workload, but you couldn’t believe Kakashi would really sabotage any work-related tasks. Not even he would stoop that low, and you also had the feeling that the bastard respected Minato too, more than to actually mess with any of your files. He just criticized them, plucked them apart bit by bit, until you second-guessed yourself more than actually doing what you were paid for.

You hated Kakashi even more for that.

Not only that, though. No, that would’ve been too easy for the massive pain in your ass (a close second insult).

~ X ~

Every good office had this one room. This one room, praised and frequently visited by every person on the same floor and, sometimes, even several floors. Often small enough to not fit more than four or five people inside, but big enough to have a little kitchen counter, a microwave and the holiest grail: the coffee machine.

At Konohagakure Marketing, the coffee machine was an old and clunky thing. On a regular basis, the monstrosity would spit hot water while brewing a new can of coffee, the sounds the thing omitted in general could be described as ‘devilish’ and ‘unearthly’, and whoever had the misfortune to have to clean the coffee machine when it wouldn’t budge nor move (mostly happening in the afternoon, when it already had a few hours of work on its back), would have to deal with some kind of unidentifiable grease and coffee grounds stuck to their hands. Of course, that meant no one exactly wanted to deal with that particular task. Eventually, though, when the coffee wouldn’t flow anymore, it had to be done.

When you stumbled a few days after the headbutting with Kakashi into the small coffee corner, you prayed to the heavens that there was still enough coffee left. Cleaning the monster would take some time; time you definitely didn’t have today.

Luckily, there was still enough coffee left for approximately two more cups. Unfortunately, when you stepped into the room, someone else was already in there, a coffee can in one hand and one cup in the other.

“Hey.” Your smile couldn’t have fooled the blindest of blind people, and surely not Kakashi. He didn’t seem to mind, throwing an unworried, undisturbed smile back at you.

“Hello there. Also on the hunt for coffee?”

“Yeah.” The kitchen cabinets were almost overloaded with porcelain in different states. Most cups were just boring; white and with the stylized leaf of the office printed on one side. There were a few personal cups, though, and hell was raised if anyone else, but the owners of these cups were spotted using them. Quickly, you angled yours out of the cabinet, a huge and bright-red cup with white polka dots printed all over the surface.

Someone had moved your cup, though. Usually, you kept your cup on the lowest shelf of the cupboard, comfortably in your reach. Today, someone seemed to deeply hate you, placing the cup on the highest shelf and even pushing it a bit back. From your position, you could barely make out the edges.

You could feel Kakashi’s amusement in your back as you stared full of deserved hatred upwards, at the porcelain so far out of your reach that it also could be on another planet. Alright, that was a bit far-fetched, but still.

“Need a hand?” he asked.

Help? From him? Before you could control yourself, you snorted. “Thanks, but no, thanks.”

Kakashi shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

You could hear his smug grin even over the pouring of coffee into porcelain. Like every so often, whenever he even looked into your direction, your eyes would automatically roll into the back of your head. Damn, you really couldn’t believe you used to look up to him. Sure, his work was without a doubt marvelous and praise-worthy, but all in all, humanly speaking, Hatake was just one of millions of douchebags. Nothing worthy to be sad and hung up over.

Fine. Fine. You would get your mug. No problem.

Thankfully, you wore a pair of jeans today. This would’ve been even more embarrassing with a skirt or dress. Like you had done so every single day of your life, you swung your knee onto the kitchen counter. One testing jump, then the other knee followed. Instantly, your head was at the same level as the highest shelf. From there on, it was child’s play to get your mug and safely slip down to stand again full of triumphant satisfaction in front of the pain in your neck.

“Impressive.” Hatake’s voice was just as impassive as always. “Now, a sideways flick-flack with a screw-landing backwards.”

“I’m still working for a marketing company, not for a circus.”

“Strange. You look like a clown to me.”

How dare he-! Biting heat swirled through your stomach, rose into your chest and up into your head. You could feel your heartbeat in your ears, drowning everything else out. How dare he insulted you like this! That was it, he couldn’t insult you like that and not expect you to run to Minato like…

Like a schoolgirl running to the teacher and snitching on her classmates.

As the new one, that wouldn’t shine a good light on you. Not a team player, you heard a mock-version of Minato’s voice say, deep in the back of your mind, not able to take a little jest.

Minato would never say that. He would take an official complaint seriously, even when it would come from you. However, the doubt was planted in your brain. Like that, you just gripped the handle of your cup tighter, tensing your jaw until you could nearly feel your teeth crack.

Hatake raised a single eyebrow, lazy in his execution and mocking in his expression. “Nothing to say? How disappointing.”

Before you could retort something, anything would be great, he stepped into your personal space. No preamble or warning. Just an invasion, straight up, unbothered by the close contact. Damn, his chest was nearly molded to yours! How could he do that without an inkling of shame or embarrassment?

Instinctively, you drew your shoulders upwards, cupping the mug close to your chest. Hell, his legs were softly pressing against your upper thighs, the rims of his hoodie were falling around your body! Was he doing that to ruffle your feathers? To unnerve you?

Well, if that is his intention, then it’s fucking working!

With wide eyes, you only stare at Hatake, how he reached upwards, behind your head. Caught between the kitchen counter and the man, you couldn’t escape, only look up at the neckline of his dark V-shirt, the long, pale neck, the sharp jaw, the little dark spot just below his mouth… All of that was so close, pleasantly accompanied by the warm, slightly sharp, slightly sweet scent of some kind of deodorant and natural smell.

Suddenly, he looked down, little creases around his eyes, amusement curling his lips into the sliver of a smile. “Is that here a problem?”

You could only shake your head in a terribly weak manner (only later, you would realize that and scold yourself).

His little cocky smile widened, the corners of his mouth curling even further. And wasn’t that a dimple in his cheek? “Good.”

And then he was gone, while you could only stand there and cling to your mug like your life depended on it. Your brain seemed to be paralyzed, short-circuited, simply frozen without a chance to recover soon.

Hatake now held two mugs instead of one in his hands, placed one of them beside you on the corner, and raised the can to the empty mug. “Nice. How kind, that you let me empty the can and want to clean the coffee machine. Such a collegial coworker.”

The curtain lifted. Quickly, you rewind the conversation you just had, trying to find out when the hell did you give permission to Hatake to take all the coffee?

Wait… Is that here a problem? Did he really…?

You jerked up. “Wait! I never agreed to this!”

“Too late.” Surprisingly fast, Hatake had emptied out the can to the very last drop. With both of his hands occupied as he grabbed the other mug, he waved with one of his little fingers at you, all closed eyed, fake smiles and sheer arrogance. You really wanted to break the stupid finger in the exact moment when the fucker left the kitchen, the smugness radiating from him in fucking waves.

Slowly, you released your death grip around your mug. Finger for finger, until you placed the porcelain with an audible sigh on the counter. Then, your eyes wandered to the coffee machine, the empty can, and the unmistakable sign right above the machine: Please refill the coffee for everyone when the can is empty!

Kakashi planned this. You were halfway sure. And when the darn thing didn’t want to work, and you had to suffer through the excruciating cleaning process (the grease was everywhere, beneath your fingernails up to your wrists, some spots even made their way to the sleeves of your jacket) you wanted to scream and shout, trash this stupid machine and trash Hatake with it in the next best trash bin.

~ X ~

I know it sounds sappy, but when I see your smile at any time of the day, I instantly feel better. I could have the shittiest day ever, and you and your smile would always be able to brighten it up. I never had a reason to be excited to come to work, but since you work here, I’m actually looking forward to coming in. Even the boss is surprised to see me so much, when I usually work from home.

Be prepared to be swamped with Thank-You cards from him.

PS: Your cursing at the coffee machine could be heard on the entire floor. It was terribly cute.

~ X ~

This morning was such bullshit. First, the train line you used to commute was late to begin with, then the train you waited twenty extra minutes for broke down three stations before you would’ve jumped off and on top of that, it started to rain five minutes into your walk. Soaked, with blisters at your small toes from running in shoes you weren’t used to run in, and with a coffee spot on your jeans you hadn’t noticed when pulling this pair over your legs this morning, your day couldn’t get any worse.

You instantly revised that opinion when you entered the foyer of Konohagakure Marketing. Yes, this morning still had the potential to become even worse, just by the sight of Kakashi lingering around the front table and flirting with the secretary there. One arm casually draped over the glassy surface of the modern, cutting-edge counter, his entire body leaning against it and his bored, black eyes instantly flying over to you when you entered; a personified, wet, dripping mess. In total comparison to his outer depiction of calmness, coolness and charismatic self.

Gods, you hated this man with every fucking fiber of your frustrated, late and exhausted being.

“Oh, (Y/N).” If possible, Kakashi leaned even more onto the counter, while the blonde secretary couldn’t rip her eyes away from the view right in front of her. “What’s up?”

“Nothing which would be your business.” With a growl, you brushed past him. Though, steps in your back told you that today, Hatake only wanted to add to your terrible mood.

“You’re so mean to me,” he whined, yes, whined at you, all the while dramatically gesturing around like he acted out one of the great Shakespearean tragedies, “when I just politely inquired to know how your day has treated you so far.”

“My day,” you started, growling lowly in the back of your throat and still trying to hang onto your control to not snap at your senior like he deserved, “has been a little bit stressful. Thank you for asking.”

“Maa, no problem.” He had the audacity to shrug, hands in the pockets of his tight-fitted jeans and the edges of his black knitted cardigan revealing the soft-looking fabric of the grey t-shirt underneath. You hated this outfit. Yes, you hated how much you liked to see it on him. Kakashi looked comfy, drowning in the soft wool, ready to fall asleep or walk over the runaway of Paris. One of these things, at least. One look at the secretary, and you knew she was of the same opinion. Her eyes were still glued to Kakashi’s back, sparkles glittering in her iris and something akin to childish wonder radiating from her.

You turned around again and snorted under your breath. Yeah. Pathetic.

Hey. Only a few days ago, you would’ve made the same heart-eyes if THE Kakashi Hatake would’ve talked to you.

At the end of the room was an elevator and to the right the door leading into the staircase. Most days, you would take the stairs, as the bureau was only two levels above, but some days, you were as lazy as you could be and called the elevator. Today was definitely such a day. You deserved this elevator ride. Before you could reach out to the button to call it, Kakashi had pulled a hand from his pockets and pushed it, all the while smiling.

Suspicious. Your eyes squinted, but you let it go. “Thank you.”

The smiling wrinkles around his eyes deepened. “No problem.”

Silently, you waited for the elevator. Only a low hum of Kakashi vibrated in the air. If you weren’t mistaken, it was In the End by Linkin Park.

You hadn’t taken Hatake as someone who would listen to Linkin Park. Another suspicious glance into his direction, then you concentrated onto the closed door of the elevator once more. Just a few more seconds, then you could hopefully dry a little bit in the security of the office. Just a tiny bit further, you could already hear the whirring of the elevator coming closer, the tiniest bit of luxury on this terrible, exhausting day.

A soft ‘ding’ alerted you, and really, the doors slid open. But before you could only take a single step inside the elevator, the shuffling in your back told you something was coming and that you wouldn’t like it.

“Kakashiiiiiii, let me come with you!” Apparently, over the last few minutes, you became invisible. Otherwise, you couldn’t explain how the secretary just pushed quite rudely past you, knocking against your elbow. Your bag, already slightly askew on your wet shoulder, completely lost its footing. In slow motion, you could feel how the bag dropped to the ground, but were still unable to stop it. Only when the noise of splattered food, water and the miserable rest of your good mood of this day reached your ears, you looked down. There, your personal life spread out on the floor, while the chatty secretary just wrinkled her nose at the chaos she created, before grabbing Kakashi’s arm, who stood wide-eyed at the crime scene.

“Let’s go,” the dumb blonde whined and tugged at his sleeve, “you still have to tell me about what happened with the butter and the…” She giggled in an apparently cute way, but the only thing which happened was that you had the feeling a little tinnitus pierced through your brain.

Surprisingly, though, Kakashi didn’t immediately take off. Instead, as you crouched down to hastily collect your stuff while worrying what you would eat for lunch today, he also sank to his knees.

“Don’t bother,” you growled as his hands reached for your soaked purse, “better stay with your new friend to make sure she doesn’t get lost upstairs.”

The subtle hint wasn’t lost on Kakashi. If you weren’t mistaken, small wrinkles of amusement formed around his eyes, before he nodded and moved upwards again. “If you insist.”

“Yes, I fuck-! I insist.” You were already raking through the mess, trying to make out what was still usable and what wasn’t, but only the quick shuffle of feet and the continued whining of the dumb secretary suddenly stopping, cut off by the soft closing of the elevator doors, told you that even the little bit of luxury you hoped today for was lost.

And even though this time, he wasn’t completely at fault, you couldn’t help it. You loathed Kakashi even more for being the flirtatious, obnoxious piece of shit he was outside and inside.

~ X ~

I’m sorry you had such a shitty morning. I’m sorry, but I think nobody didn’t hear how you complained to Anko about all the misfortune happening to you. Rightfully so. Maybe tomorrow though, the world is a little bit brighter. And even though I hope my notes are a small window to some sunshine of tomorrow, I wouldn’t dare to assume that.

I just hope the coffee I made for you warms you a bit up after all you’ve been through today. No worries, it’s just like you take it. I asked around. I swear, I’m not stalking you! >-<

~ X ~

However, it didn’t stop at taking the last bits of coffee or stealing the elevator when you already started into a shit day. No, Kakashi’s pettiness knew no limits and unluckily, you hadn’t experienced the true extent of said pettiness yet.

Every day, work would start with a meeting to discuss ongoing projects, clients and other things which came along with marketing. Sometimes, there was nothing to discuss and Namikaze would use these meetings to congratulate everyone for their hard work and would send his subordinates on their merry way, with a just as merry smile on his face.

Today was not such a day.

These kinds of meetings were usually held inside one of the bigger conference rooms, where most of the marketeers, designers and whoever worked even remotely at Konoha Marketing would find a place to sit. Namikaze would usually stand, while you preferred to find a seat at the other side of the room to melt into the rows and rows of faces looking up at him. Usually, Kakashi wouldn’t even be present, and if he was present, he wouldn’t even try to hide the earbuds playing eerily loud music.

As stated, today was not a usual day. Already when you came into the room, chatting with Anko and Kurenai over your shoulders, you spotted Kakashi. The asshole was silently whispering with Namikaze, earbuds nowhere in sight and a stack of papers in front of him. Immediately, a nauseous queasiness spread through your stomach. Something wasn’t right here, and the feeling only intensified when Kakashi suddenly looked up and met your eyes. A teasing little grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, and when he nodded, merely a little lift of his chin, your heart plummeted right through the floor.

Panicked, you reached for Anko’s arm while she went ahead to grab your usual seats. “Get me out of here!”

She turned her head. “What the fuck?”

“Kakashi schemes something, I can feel it!”

“Since when are you an antenna for his brain?”

With the desperation of a dying woman, you tugged at Anko’s sleeve. “I just know,” you hissed, “I just fucking know he’s up to something, okay? Please, get me out of here before Namikaze starts the meeting, I don’t want to-!”

However, you realized it was too late when Namikaze stood up from his chair and coughed, catching easily the entire attention of the room. He just had that little special spark which was able to entice an entire room of energetic, creative adults.

Paying someone’s salary did that.

Jokes aside, Minato Namikaze was just that charismatic. He had the expertise, the skills and was still humble, despite having founded one of the leading marketing companies in the entire country. Not the fake-humble some people loved to put on to show off at charity events and publicity stunts. Namikaze still felt real. Just one of the reasons why you didn’t hesitate when you noticed there was an open position on his team.

“Attention, please.” Even his smile was like the sun itself as he looked around the room, seemingly looking at everyone around like he was their friend, and he was in the middle of hosting a potluck dinner. “Alright, we have lots of work to do in the next few months. We finally got the confirmation that Akatsuki will work with us again for their next spring campaign, there are three rebranding tasks fresh in our care and the city council also wanted to talk with us about possibly creating an internet presence worth following, but I digress. Lots of work, that’s what I’m saying here. Kakashi, Akatsuki wanted you again on board for their campaign. I expect only the very best.”

Unusually serious, the younger man nodded. “Yes. I’m on it.”

“The team around you and Akatsuki will consist of Kurenai, Asuma, Gai, Genma, Anko and (Y/N). Any questions?”

Working on the same team with Hatake. For a brief moment, you closed your eyes and tried not to cry out in sheer and utter frustration at the thought of having to work with the adult-sized toddler that supposed genius actually was. It would be hell, you were already sure. More of his constant criticism of your work, more “funny” pranks he considered nothing but a joke but would be a massive pain in the ass to deal with, not to talk about the antics he would throw while he was supposed to seriously work with you.

Then, you opened your eyes from the short reprieve and coincidentally found yourself looking at Hatake, who just happened to scoff weakly and roll his eyes. His eyes met yours and once more, his eyes rolled upwards.

Your stomach sank, and you could feel heat rising up to your face. And to top it off, you realized Minato also heard the quiet scoff and had stopped to look at Kakashi with a slightly concerned, slightly disbelieving stare.

“Care to tell us your concerns?” your boss asked.

This does not end well. I can feel it.

Kakashi leaned back into his chair, all calm confidence and superiority complex at once, arms crossed and chin raised. “Just some worries when it comes to the accuracy of the necessary information. I have to say, the reports which I’ve received lately were peppered with inaccurate details and unnecessary parts I personally don’t agree with.”

An attack directly aimed at you. If possible, you grew even redder and slouched into your chair. There was just no other way to see it; you were the latest addition to Konohagakure Marketing, the newest member, the weak link so to speak. Not to talk about that some of Kakashi’s complaints had been heard by other people already who weren’t exactly stupid and probably were figuring out in this very second who exactly Kakashi was talking about.

It wasn’t exactly hard, anyway.

Minato merely raised a single eyebrow. “Really? Personally, I think the quality of the reports have improved over the last months. Also, I think you also mentioned a few days ago how one of these “unnecessary” new parts actually helped you to add a nice little detail to an ongoing campaign the client liked and pointed out. So, I can’t quite understand your criticism now.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. Very carefully, you peaked up from your lap and looked around. More than one person looked at Kakashi and almost all of them had not-so-sneaky grins on their faces at seeing the aloof man getting smacked in the face with his own hypocrisy. Well, you didn’t expect Minato to speak up on your behalf, but now that he did, you couldn’t be more grateful. When his crystal-clear, blue eyes quickly flickered over, you nodded sharply. Minato nodded back, merely a weak twitch of his chin, before winking at you.

Yes, you weren’t above admitting that your boss was a good-looking and also happily married man. Nevertheless, that wink added a few years to your lifetime, which Hatake had stolen before with his stupid antics.

Fuck him. Fuck Hatake. He really tries to make me look stupid in front of the entire team!

Nothing came back from the lanky man, who lowered his hand not quite in shame, but to stare at his notebook with an unreadable expression you didn’t know if you should be worried about or not.

“Any more questions?” Minato looked around, his cornflower-blue eyes daring anyone to speak up. No one did. “Alright. Now, with that out of the way, I would like to turn towards the rebranding tasks-!”

You stared blindly at the top of the table, unable to see anything. Even Anko’s slight tugs on your sleeve didn’t disturb your intense concentration, nor did the glances all your colleagues gifted you from time to time, still curious about the bureau drama Kakashi started. The realization only sunk now in, what exactly he had done.

He doubted your work in front of everyone. And even when Minato defended you, even if Kakashi disproved his own doubts, the other colleagues would probably always keep his complaints in mind while working with you. A stigma you would carry with you for as long as you would work with all of these people.

Only barely, you managed to keep your tears inside. It took your sharp fingernails digging into the soft tissue of your palm, but you managed, and that was everything which counted. One thought crystallized itself clearly out of the emotional mess inside your head.

Fuck Kakashi Hatake. Fuck Kakashi Hatake. Fucking fuck Kakashi fucking shit-stained Hatake.

You had no idea if he was still hung up on your little act of defiance of not bringing him coffee when it wasn’t part of your job description. It definitely seemed like it. However, it was a matter of fact that he took it too far. He attacked you in front of the entire room of colleagues and your boss, doubted your work morale and results and thus, tried to push you off of his group which would work as a highly influential marketing campaign for Akatsuki. Experience, connections and the chance to see your ideas on the biggest billboards around the city. There wasn’t a better stepping stone for a marketeer career, and Kakashi fucking knew that. He knew, and took it upon himself to put you in a bad spot from the get go.

He had been nothing but an inconvenience up until now. Nothing but an annoying asshole, bearable despite all the tricks and traps he was planning to make your life at Konohagakure Marketing miserable. But now, he went for your job, and that was unforgivable.

Mentally, you made a note to write a statement for Namikaze, maybe even report Hatake for harassment, bullying, whatever. Just a paper trail would be good at this point, to prove you tried to use official means to fend off his stupid pranks.

Only Anko noticed your inner turmoil. Not a lot of people knew she was quick in picking up the smallest of cues, shrugged her even off as a mere brash woman who laughed too loudly and made crude jokes, but underneath all of that was a perceptive and almost annoyingly sharp, loyal friend. She noticed your sudden silence and how you withdrew from the meeting inside your own head.

A finger softly poked into your folded hands. “Hey,” her whisper was for once silent enough to only be heard by you two, “everything good?”

You nodded weakly. Of course, Anko didn’t buy that.

“You sure?”

Again, you nodded. Merely a faint lowering of your chin, but you nodded. Anko threw a last worried glance into your direction, poked your hands again with a tenderness which almost made you cry out loud, before turning back her attention to the meeting and Minato.

At this point, you were through a whirlwind of emotions and probably would’ve gone through many, many more. However, you made the mistake of looking up, right up into Kakashi’s face. His silver eyebrows were drawn together, dark eyes set on you and met yours when you glanced at him, arms crossed in front of his chest and like always effortlessly looking like he just fell out of bed, in the unbearably attractive kind of way.

When your eyes met, your dread and sorrow suddenly turned into fiery-hot rage and anger. How dare he. How dare he look all concerned and worried now, when the damage was already done. He couldn’t take his words back, nor could make the people around him forget he had spoken them. How dare he look like he regretted now what he had done.

You sent Kakashi your best “I would kill you if it was legal”-glare. Immediately, he whipped his head away, ears red and long, elegant fingers spinning an expensive looking pencil round and round.

A paper trail. Preferably yesterday. Your fingers shook ever so slightly as you wrote a short note for yourself in barely readable chicken-scratch onto the very edge of your notepad. Right after this meeting was over, you had to speak with Minato in private. You just had to. Who knew what Kakashi was also capable of when he was also willing to endanger your career over some kind of petty revenge he was hellbent on pushing to the maximum level. This was ridiculous, to be completely honest. There was no reason for him to be such a little bitch, for the lack of a better word, about something so small as disturbing him at the wrong time once and not immediately falling to his feet.

No one else had this kind of problem with him. Was it because you were new, maybe? To show you your place once and for all?

At the silly thought, you snorted to yourself. Again, Hatake’s eyes instantly flashed over, flickering up and down and getting stuck at your hand still holding your pen.

Fuck him, you thought. Ever so gently, you uncurled and curled your fingers until only your middle finger was holding the pen, the other fingers balled into a tight, white-knuckled fist. You knew he understood, just by the way the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes deepened by a margin, before Hatake turned his full attention once more to Minato.

Fucking bastard. Arrogant prick. Stupid asshole.

For the rest of the meeting, you tried to concentrate on your boss explaining and relaying more crucial information about incoming jobs, but your mind kept on drifting elsewhere. More specifically, to the confusing, infuriating, annoying man who continued to rob your last nerve.

Not like there was much to understand.

It was no coincidence you were idling a bit around after the meeting, shuffling your notebook over the table and playing with your pen to the point Anko threw worried glances at you as she stood up.

“Everything alright, girl? You’re starting to worry me there. Is it a psychotic breakdown?”

“Not yet, Anko. Not quite there yet.” Banter with your colleague came easily to you, but your eyes always followed Minato’s movements. He was still talking to the bastard, all smiles and sunshine and bright happiness. Seriously, it was almost unbearable to watch them both.

How unfair was that? Both men were ridiculously attractive. In fact, all people in this marketing firm were ridiculously attractive, even Gai a level above! In his own special way, but he also got a little fan club as much as you were aware (and Anko was part of it, you were pretty sure).

Made you wonder a bit why you were hired, as it seemed that there was a hiring requirement you didn’t fulfill.

Finally, Hatake just nodded while turning away from his boss. Strangely enough, he gave you a last lingering look before leaving the conference room as well. Time for you to attack, or more like, speak with Minato yourself. Who knew what kind of unreasonable concerns he would bring up now?

“Hey there,” your boss smiled warmly over the table while you gathered the last bits of your belongings, “Is everything alright?”

“Why shouldn’t it be?”

Minato clicked his tongue. “Ah, just a little bird told me about a certain tension in my office. And that you and my s-! Kakashi are involved.”

“You heard us.” Just a flat statement, because there couldn’t be another way. Fuck, his office was right there, right beside Hatake’s, and the “tension” between you and him were really not a secret anymore.

Never was, to be exact.

You tried to look ashamed, even when a small part of you just wanted to defend yourself. It wasn’t your fault Hatake was an asshole. It wasn’t your fault he always tried to rile you up. It wasn’t your fucking fault, Hatake thought endangering your job was funny or something.

In comparison, Minato was more open than you. Blood creeped up into his face as he smiled once more, clearly ashamed for spitting the truth just out instead of clothing the harsh words into nicer clothes. “I admit, Kakashi is sometimes… difficult. Only the gods know what goes on inside of him, and I won’t even pretend that I will ever understand some of his antics. But I also won’t tolerate him bullying new employees. That is not alright, nor would I ever accept that kind of thing in my company.”

Reassuring, kind words. Definitely what you needed from your boss, but that alone didn’t seem like it would be enough.

“Are you sure that will work on Hatake?” The question was faster out than you intended. When Minato’s piercing blue eyes met yours, you held his gaze, but quickly moved on before his gaze would burn you on the spot. “I mean, I don’t know. He seems like he won’t take any criticism seriously.”

At that, Minato’s gaze darkened. Darkened to the point, he didn’t seem like the same relaxed, happy person you knew for a few months now. Goosebumps peppered their way down your arms, and you barely kept yourself from rubbing them through the sleeves.

“Believe me, (Y/N). I will make sure he will stop his behavior from now on. Rest assured.”

You decided further discussion wasn’t worth the potential trouble. So, you merely nodded and fled the room, not sure if the talk went well or disastrously wrong.

~ X ~

You couldn’t believe it. Again, your eyes raked over the slightly disorganized rows inside the fridge. Like every morning, you had placed the Tupperware with your soup right in the top row, beside Shizune’s salad, Anko’s massive bowl of pasta and Kurenai’s elegant box with her healthy bento, lovingly prepared by Asuma (even though he always denied any involvement).

It should be there. You were absolutely sure you placed it inside the fridge, like every fucking day.

Again, you closed the fridge, only to open the door immediately after. Like your soup would magically appear out of thin air, even though you already tried that particular move two times already.

Well, three times were the charm. But yet again, you had to stare at the suspicious gap between Tupperware boxes and did not know where your soup went.

“Fuck,” you grunted under your breath as you closed the fridge for the final time. Someone just straight up took your lunch. Your labeled lunch. Just… fantastic. Very unlikely to see it again.

However, just when you went back to your desk to get your purse to go out and buy an overpriced lunch at one of the small hip cafés downstairs, you spotted something disturbing. Something which made your blood boil, to the point of stopping right in your tracks, staring wildly for a second, only to charge forward like a bull who just spotted a red flag.

“I’ve had enough! I fucking have it!”

Shaking in anger, heart pounding in your chest, you stormed over to Kakashi’s desk. This absolute fucker had his shitty headphones on, innocently staring at his asshole-PC while spooning some goddamn soup into his mouth.

Your soup. Out of your Tupperware. Which you placed in the office fridge, in your labeled area of the fridge.

Enough was enough. There was a fine line which Kakashi just crossed, which his previous offenses didn’t. The coffee, the elevator, even the fucking meeting where he had to begrudgingly accept your presence on his team by his boss’ order were still inside a very specific area you could forgive to an extent. Were you holding a grudge against him? Hell, fuck yes. Would you like to screw him over like he deserved? Of course not. You talked with Minato, he nodded and said he would speak to Hatake, but that was it. Nothing came out of it but tense, clipped conversation between you and him in every damned team meeting he held over the new Akatsuki-campaign.

But stealing your food? The one thing you brought from your own home, placed in your area in the fridge, and he had the fucking audacity to steal it with his grabby little lithe hands.

(The attractive asshole.)

Right in front of his desk, you came to a stop. He didn’t look up, even though you just knew he noticed you. Instead, he continued to intently stare at his screen, swirling his spoon through the soup you cooked and prepared and sweated over to get it just right.

You crossed your arms over your chest. No reaction, despite him sneaking a glance into your direction.

One twitch of your eyebrows upwards. “Is the soup tasty?”

That caught his attention. The asshole shrugged, while you had to keep yourself from reaching over the desk and strangle him until that stupid disinterested, bored expression was wiped from his face forever. “It’s alright. Nothing special. Too little salt.”

Too little salt!? How dare he??

Only by a margin, you managed to keep the outrageous scream of pure, unaltered rage inside your chest. Your jaw felt like snapping into two though from biting your own tongue so hard. “Yeah?” you hissed out. “Very unlucky for you. Where did you get it from?”

With the spoon, he gestured over into the direction of the office kitchen. “Just grabbed it out of the office fridge.”

“Mhmm, interesting. You know,” you leaned forward, “as huge as this coincidence might be to you, this morning, I filled a really similar looking Tupperware with a really similar soup. And – again! – coincidentally, my Tupperware went missing when I just went to check my labeled place in the fridge…”

To your eternal satisfaction, Kakashi stopped around the middle of your little speech. His eyes were stuck on the screen, staring blindly into the brightly lit monitor, the spoon with another mouthful of soup lowered itself slowly, oh so slowly back into the bowl, before his head turned just as slowly around to look at you with the biggest puppy eyes you had ever seen on any man.

Unluckily for him, he had ruined any goodwill for any kind of puppy eyes in you weeks ago.

Uncrossing your arms, you clicked your tongue. “Seriously, fuck you Hatake. Fuck you sideways. The only thing I did to you was annoy you one goddamn time, and you instantly set out to make my entire life here at work hell. This is the last straw. I’m going to Namikaze to file a complaint against you and I don’t give a flying fuck if you’re his little pet or whatever, or if I get thrown out for insulting his top marketeer. You hear me?” You couldn’t hold it in any longer. A single tear which had burned in your eye for some minutes now finally fell. Quickly, you wiped it away, before hissing again at Hatake, who stared wide-eyed and with something akin to panic on his face at you. “I will fucking take the loss if that just means I get away from you. I’ve had enough. You’re the worst person I’ve met so far and if I could rewind time and stop myself from ever going up to you, I would fucking do it, just to spare me the utter disappointment of having the displeasure of knowing how much of an asshole you are.”

The last string simply snapped for you. A last scoff at him, then you turned away, towards the office of your boss. Not even five steps later you heard the clutter of his chair being pushed away, so quickly it fell over, hurried steps running after you, only for his hand to reach for your arm.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” With a sharp hiss, you flinched away from Hatake. How dare he! How dare he even try to hold you back now, only to maybe not be scolded by Namikaze! How dare he had the guts to look at you with big, pleading eyes, how dare him for being the attractive bastard he was and for knowing exactly how attractive it was! And the audacity he had to try and use it for his advantage!

Right in front of Namikaze’s office, you stopped, Hatake right on your trail, swiveled around and hissed again into his face, the fury burning right in your throat and down into your chest. “I said,” with gusto, you jammed your index finger into his chest, and the short lightning of pain was even worth the shock flashing over his features, “I don’t care about your puppy eyes or your excellent marketing campaigns or the many people you take home. I don’t care about you, Hatake, and your pitiful attempts at stopping me!”

“Please, can you let me explain-?”

“This is far beyond explaining! I don’t owe you anything! Nothing at all! I just want to get away from you, so leave me the hell alone!”

The entire office was staring. Kind of hard not to notice the loud fight, with the room being open and all desks loosely gathered in front of Minato’s office. The poor Iruka tried so hard not to look, even though you stood merely one meter or so away from his front desk.

You couldn’t bring yourself to care. The stolen soup – your missed lunch! – was the last drop in this ever-filling bucket.

There he stood, the smug bastard of a man-child. Wearing a pair of loose, washed-out jeans with holes at the knees, a wide cardigan in the same shade as his gray hair and a dark shirt with some silly, almost destroyed print. Though, the longer you stared at him, you couldn’t help but to notice that Hatake didn’t look smug at all. No, under no circumstance you would describe the drawn-together eyebrows, the hard tug around his mouth and the nervous twitch of his hands as smug.

Feeling sorry for him wasn’t an option. Gosh, you were such a pushover, already feeling sorry for him when he was the one to make your work life miserable! No, not today! You would make Minato listen to your complaint (if he didn’t notice the ruckus right outside his office already) and this time, you would demand some action. Talking obviously did jack-shit to change Hatake’s attitude.

Though, before you could knock at Minato’s office, the door was pushed open. To your unending shame, not your boss peered outside, but his wife. Kushina was just as beautiful as a rose, with her fiery-red hair and her even features, yet her temper was quick to anger and slow to cool down. And right now, she looked at Hatake and you with the same intent as a wolf on the hunt.

At least, that was how you imagined a wolf on the hunt. Not that you ever had seen one, but you felt like a small rabbit as you shrunk under her intense glare.

“Both of you,” she jerked the door wide open, revealing nothing but an empty desk and chair inside, “get in here. Before I forget myself.”

Like scolded children, you followed her into the office. Heads lowered, steps hesitant, sneaking angry glances at each other when Kushina wasn’t looking. This was truly ridiculous! This wasn’t your fault, Hatake could just stop being such an asshole and leave you alone and foremost, not eat your food! It was unfair you were cited into the office like a child who misbehaved!

But I did misbehave. I lost my shit, screamed around, threw a tantrum.

What a shitshow. I should be ashamed of myself.

Shit. Does she want to fire me?

She does. Oh god, Kushina will fire me. She’s Minato’s right hand basically, she can just suggest she doesn’t think I will be a good fit for the company. Oh, fuck. Shit, shit, shit!

Tears burned in your eyes at the mere thought. Your heart pounded in your chest, your knees were trembling. For a moment, you thought you couldn’t take another step forward, too terrified to face your fate. But your head and body were disconnected. Your legs carried you further, right before the desk of Minato where Kushina sat down, with the same grace a true empress would use to claim her rightful throne.

You didn’t dare to look at her. You also didn’t dare to move your eyes away from the ground. Better be safe than sorry. 

“Kushina,” Hatake had the nerve to speak up, even though the silence was icy to the point of freezing, “this is ridiculous. It was a simple misunderstanding, nothing to get angry-!”

“I decide,” Kushina  snarled, her mouth curled into a growl, “what I get angry over and what not. And this shouting match you had in the open office is in my opinion definitely something to get angry over.”

“It was nothing, really!”

“Didn’t sound like nothing to me.”

“Kushina, it wasn’t-!”

“Hey, pipsqueak.” 

Pipsqueak. The insult came so unexpected, so completely out of the blue, you couldn’t help but to snort loudly into the icy silence. Quickly, you got yourself back under control, but the eyes of the other people in the room were already on you.

“Something the matter?” Kushina’s voice made the short-lived amusement die right then and there. “Your shouting made me notice your fight in the first place. You disturbed the peace in this office with the fight you both are responsible for, because you’re both adults long enough to know how to act at your workplace.”

She was right, of course. You should know how to act in a professional setting, but you forgot your manners and professionalism just for a second there. 

“I apologize,” you mumbled, “it certainly wasn’t my intention to cause a ruckus.”

“What was your intention then?”

“I was… angry. Probably to make this anger known to the person who caused it.”

“That would be the pipsqueak here.” Not a question, just a raw statement without any judgment. 

Carefully, you peaked up into Kushina’s face. Her anger had calmed down, the hard lines smoothened out again. Her hands were folded on top of the table, the epitome of calculating calmness. In her business suit, her hair tied back into a high ponytail and with her regal aura, it was hard to not say the truth, not that you ever intended to lie in the first place.

“Yes,” you answered, “it was Hatake. For a few weeks, he's been deliberately tormenting me.”

“Tormenting?” Her surprised tone showed exactly how much she didn’t expect that. Kushina glanced at Hatake, who was suddenly just as interested as you on the ground. “That is new to me.”

“I don’t know exactly what I did to deserve this treatment by him, but since a few weeks ago, he… I don’t know, he creates situations in which I pull the short straw, no matter what.”

“Explain.”

“For example, he stole the last bits of coffee out of the can and made me clean it, so I could cook the next pot. One of his groupies possibly accidentally pushed my bag out of my hands, which forced me to take the stairs over the elevator, plus collect all my stuff again. But this is insignificant,” you breathed in, the old fury still burning in your chest, “when he belittles my work in front of everyone. In one of the morning meetings, where Hatake and I got assigned to the new campaign for Akatsuki, when he questioned my abilities to deliver.”

Kushina leaned back into her chair, eyes squinted. “I remember. You came to Minato and told him the pipsqueak is bothering you. He spoke to him, but apparently it didn’t work out.” A glare was thrown at Hatake. “But why the commotion now?”

“He stole my labeled lunch out of the fridge.”

“Kakashi…” Kushina sighed. 

“I didn’t see the label, okay?” Grumpily, Hatake crossed his arms over his chest. “It wasn’t in my line of vision.”

“The label is on my tupperware. Directly on top. On the lid. You’re looking at it when you open the tupperware. It’s printed there in big bold letters.”

“The fridge was really messy!”

“The fridge is always organized, in the same way it has been organized since I started here, and I highly doubt a new organization was put in place recently.”

Hatake rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

Oh, he lost now. His dismissive, defiant “whatever” was basically admission to his wrongdoing. Inwardly, you were already celebrating your win over the bastard with a cold beer, cake and confetti, but on the outside, you only let the barest hint of a smile shine through your neutral mask. You still could ruin everything by showing how much it pleased you that Hatake had to take a clear stance now.

Thankfully, Kushina didn’t notice your little smile. Her entire concentration was on Hatake, who continued to pout like an angry child caught with its hand in the cookie jar, arms crossed over his chest and head turned away to look at the wall. So defiant, yet it had no use.

“You’re not serious, Kakashi. You can’t be serious right now.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Minato talked to you about this…”

“Can’t remember.”

“Sunday, over dinner. You said you would keep the peace.”

“Could be.”

“You said you would.” Kushina clicked her tongue. “Don’t tell me you drowned him again out and just nodded along.”

At that, Hatake merely shrugged. No further answer, no explanation, only more questions. Questions about their relationship. They met last Sunday for dinner? They were indeed that close? It sounded also a bit like it was a regular thing, measured at the casual mentioning of the Sunday-dinner. Also, the tone Kushina used.

Not the tone of a disappointed boss. Not the tone of an angry chef. More the tone of an exasperated older sibling or even more like…

A disappointed parent. 

Were they related, though? Nobody ever mentioned anything in that direction, that the Namikaze’s were somehow related to Hatake. Adoption, maybe? It was just incredibly bewildering to suddenly think that Minato and Kushina were trying to reign in when it came to his behavior. Really, really strange.

With hawk eyes, you continued to follow their conversation as they apparently completely forgot about your existence. Kushina was railing into the still defiant Hatake, who continued to stare at the wall and pretend he wasn’t even present.

“We also talked about this before! When you bullied Obito in School so hard, you made him cry. And now you’re what?”

“... kind of friends.”

“You invited him for our dinner a week after that talk! You were the Best Man at his wedding! I thought we were over this childish phase of yours, Kakashi.”

“I am.”

“It doesn’t look like it. Goddammit, we need to have another intervention with you, don’t we?”

At that, Hatake shrugged. “Do what you have to do.”

“And I plan to do exactly that,” Kushina grumbled, before her dark eyes set their sight again on you. “And you… No more screaming, please. I understand a lot has piled up there, but try to stay calm next time. Coming to Minato was good, even though it didn’t work out like you and we intended. My husband and I will have another, more intense, ” at that, she threw a glare at Hatake which made even him twitch ever so slightly, “talk than before. Apologize, Kakashi.”

“Hn.”

“ Now.”

Hatake sighed yet again. A deep, exasperated sigh like he didn’t get why he had to apologize. “Fine. I’m sorry, (Y/N). I’m sorry that it got this far. My childish behavior certainly was a bother to deal with, and I apologize for the troubles I caused you.”

It definitely sounded like he had to learn and repeat this little text at some point in his life, and now went back to this little security to get through the humiliation of apologizing to you. Still an asshole, even in defeat. Gods, what a dick. 

“Thank you,” a forced smile made its way onto your face, “I appreciate that.”

“Fine.”

“Good.”

“And additionally,” Kushina jerked her hand in a harsh motion from him to you, “you will buy her lunch as you ate hers. Only fair, right?”

“... Right.”

“And she will come next Sunday to our dinner.”

What? That was… 

“This is too much,” you interjected, “I can’t possibly accept that.”

“Oh, you will.” Kushina wouldn’t take a no on this one, you could already feel that. She was dead-set on getting her will, and she would get it. You already felt yourself giving in to the sheer pressure of your boss’ wife inviting you for dinner. How could you possibly say no? 

How bad could it be? One evening with Minato, Kushina and apparently also Kakashi. Just one evening. One damned evening. With your boss, his wife and your personal work-nemesis. No problem. Absolutely no fucking problem. 

You were so fucked.

“Sure.” Slowly, you nodded. “That will be… nice. It will be nice.”

It wouldn’t. It absolutely wouldn’t. Oh god, this would be a trainwreck. 

But if you thought that you would be the least excited person in the room about this prospect, then you were wrong. When you sneaked a glance at Hatake, he was actually scowling, downright scowling, before he noticed your eyes on him. Quickly, the scowl changed into a neutral mask of indifference. 

Oh, yes. This would be a disaster. 

[chuuyaspinkmotorcycle16]

Day 14: Vampires

Chuuya’s always been fast, even when he was technically alive. Fast instincts, fast reflexes, fast everything.

The last two hundred years have flown by – a race against what? He doesn’t know. 

It’s riveting, being alive – as much as it counts without a heartbeat – and seeing the world advance. Just a hundred years ago, humans had barely created photos and yet now they can create film, even in color!

Not that it really applies to Chuuya since he, unfortunately, found out that the technology does not work on him. A rather large disappointment, but one he’s learned to accept.

And by accept, he means he forced that bastard to draw his image so that he can know what he looks like.

Speaking of the devil–

“Chibi-chan~”

Chuuya whirls around to face the edge of the clearing of trees. There, the shadowed figure approaches, no sense of urgency in his steps.

“You’re late,” Chuuya growls, hands clenching at his sides.

“What’s the point of rushing if we have all the time in the world?” Dazai drawls. He steps into the moonlight, eyes shining red. Chuuya eyes the picnic basket hanging off his arm. “Relax, chibi, I brought you the finest one as you asked.”

“Just get your ass over here. The show’s about to start.”

It’s the full moon of the month, meaning the two of them are at their peaks. It also happened to fall on a Friday and a thirteenth, their least favorite human-made ‘holiday’ because then teenagers are out doing dumb shit and they have to make sure not to get caught.

Usually it’s them doing the dumb shit, but alas, they sacrifice for the humans.

The event falling on this date, though, means they needed somewhere secluded enough to not be found.

Hence, the dense forest of a valley with the perfect clearing that allows them to see the sky. The only signs of life that should disturb them tonight are animals and bugs.

Chuuya spreads the blankets he brought on the grass. Dazai, the menace, flops onto them, destroying Chuuya’s very hard work, for which he kicks him.

“Chuuya! I’m already wounded, how could you?!” Dazai cries out.

“Please, you overdramatic brat. We’re both wounded if we’re going by that definition.” Chuuya rolls his eyes as he sits next to the brunet, who shoves himself up into a sitting position. Beside him, he pulls out the basket’s contents.

“One fine wine for one not-as-fine shortie–”

“Hey!”

“--and one fine as moi whiskey!” Dazai pulls out the two bottles.

Chuuya cringes. “You’d think after two hundred years you would’ve learned how to actually pronounce French…”

Dazai merely shrugs, grabbing a corkscrew and handing it to Chuuya.

Above them, the sky is slowly turning a different shade, almost purple.

Once they have their appropriate drinks, the fun part begins.

With barely a breath, Dazai’s snatches Chuuya’s glass of wine, holding his unbandaged wrist above its rim as he waits. Chuuya eyes the unraveled bandage that’s dangerously close to dipping into Dazai’s drink.

As he pulls his knife from his boot, he drapes the straggling bandage over Dazai’s arm and, with speed unseen to the human eye, slices the thinnest cut above Dazai’s vein. His blood spills into the red wine, mixing seamlessly as Dazai swirls the cup around. And then, just as quick as it happened, his body seals the cut, allowing the brunet to rewrap the limb before holding out his own glass of whiskey up.

Chuuya levels his arm in the air above it as he hands off the knife to Dazai with his other hand, watching as the other slowly leans closer. There’s barely any pain, the deed done in the blink of an eye, and soon Dazai’s whisky turns a darker tint as his blood becomes one with the drink. The cut is no more by the time he can blink again.

You see, a vampire’s peak is usually the time when they are the hungriest, that thirst for blood driving them to madness.

For Dazai and Chuuya, however, they learned early on in their… partnership, that they can survive, and thrive, off of one another’s blood unlike others of their kin, who would vomit from another’s blood.

Unheard of in their world, but just another Tuesday for them. 

There’s a myth in the human world and theirs that vampire soulmates exist. How common, unknown, but it’s said that two vampires who can drink each other’s blood are destined to be together.

How unfortunate for Chuuya that it had to be to this shitty mackerel.

“Chuuya, look!” Dazai slaps his arm, making him flinch. He must have been zoning out. Dazai points at the sky.

Chuuya looks up, eyes widening. 

No matter how many times he sees it in his life, it will never fail to amaze him how the night sky can light up in so many colors. 

The Aurora Borealis shines down upon them, its hues and glows bleeding into one another — a kaleidoscope of wonder.

Beside him, Dazai whispers, “It’s times like this… maybe it’s not so bad to be alive.”

Chuuya gets it. They’ve lived countless lives, seen horrors a few too many times over. They’re stuck in their teenage bodies, with teenage brains that were once human. They’re doomed to never grow old, and so they can’t easily forget.

It can wear you down.

Chuuya throws an arm around Dazai, pulling him to lean against his shoulder and side.

It’s times like this – with the sky above and the brunet beside him – that he wouldn’t give up for anything. To be human again, to forget, to truly start over – none of those could ever make him change a thing.

He’s happy where he’s at, living forever with his partner by his side.

[monochromatictoad]

For the ask: Trevorcard, Hector and Isaac :P

Trevorcard!

1. favorite thing about them: Trevorcard's devotion to his family, but also to his own humanity. He worked his ass off to get his father to see he's worthy of redemption, while also never succumbing to the vampire curse.

2. least favorite thing about them: The fact he never told Simon who he really was. I get why he didn't, but it doesn't make me happy about it.

3. favorite line: "You'll pay for what you did to me and my mother!" Specifically as young Trevor in the Castle portions of LoS2. It seems like a strange quote, but this is the first thing Trevor said to Dracul before their first battle, so it's how Trevorcard gets Gabriel to see the young boy is him.

4. brOTP: Trevorcard and Victor. Honestly, not much is known of their relationship, but I'd like to think they were pretty close.

5. OTP: Trethias (Trevorcard x Mathias) and Trevorcard x Sypha. (Gavor)

6. nOTP: Satan x Trevorcard. Listen Satan. Possessing the body of your crush's son, is not how you get your crush to like you back.

7. random headcanon: Trevorcard watches over the Belnades after he became a vampire. It's one thing he could do as atonement for causing his wife's death, but also because of the changing political stance on them. After the Belmonts split from the original Brotherhood of Light (another headcanon), he begins to watch over them too.

8. unpopular opinion: I think he's the coolest looking Alucard, and I like how they show that he refuses to give into the curse by perpetually starving himself of blood, which shows on his actual character model.

9. song i associate with them: uhhh....

Animal by Disturbed.

10. favorite picture of them: have some baby Trevorcard, ft. Dracul's hand.

Hector!

1. Favorite thing about them: The fact he broke away from Dracula and Isaac, finding his own place in the world, free from their toxicity.

2. Least favorite thing about them: Hector, honey, maybe don't try to the woman helping you. (I hope I'm remembering that panel of the manga correctly)

3. Favorite line: "Damn him! So be it. I must descend into darkness and reclaim that accursed power once more... Heed my words. I will hunt you down like the beast you are. I will have my revenge!" Like? My guy? That goes so fucking hard.

4. brOTP: Alucard and Hector. Weird adopted brothers, who are each other's only sanctuary.

5. OTP: Hectaly, Isaactor, and Mactor

6. nOTP: can I put N!Isaactor? I'm putting that.

7. Random headcanon: I really like the ones that portray Hector treating his Innocent Devils as like little pets/children.

8. Unpopular opinion: honestly? I don't think I have one.

9. Song I associate with them: Uhhh... Maybe..

The Death of Peace of Mind by Bad Omen

10. Favorite picture of them: I know he's barely visible, but like, the size difference between him and Dracula? *Chef's kiss*

Isaac!

1. Favorite thing about them: unhinged bastard man, causing death and destruction in his wake. What's not to love about that?

2. Least favorite thing about them: Maybe don't burn your adopted brother/ex lover's wife at the stake? And expect him to like you still?

3. Favorite line: "I've been waiting quite a long time to plot my revenge. Not only did my Lord die because of you -- you stripped me of my pride, my home. Now I shall make you suffer as I suffered. You shall die a most painful, gruesome death." Isaac, honey. Like, this line is painful, but it shows so much about Isaac and his mentality around Dracula and the Castle.

4. brOTP: Joachim and Isaac. I just can't visualize them being in a relationship.

5. OTP: Isaactor, Isaastle, and Gabsaac/Isabriel? Basically Isaac x Gabriel.

6. nOTP: same as Hector. N!Isaactor

7. Random headcanon: I think Isaac could play a few instruments. I don't know... He seems like the type to have, like, a bass or, like, a steel guitar.

8. Unpopular opinion: Isaac is perfect as he is. He is chaos and depravity, and I love him for that. He's so unapologetically awful in every way, and I love that in a character.

9. Song I associate with them: Sick Like Me by In This Moment

10. Favorite picture of them: This is just a fantastic image of Isaac.

[strangedreamings]

HOTD S2E4 (spoilers abound)

Halfway point of S2. No turning back now, folks.

God, I love the tapestry sequence. Threads of fate soaked in blood.

Daemon's dreaming, again? I'd say it's nice to see Young Rhaenyra again but her presence means our boy is losing it. Mental illness gallops in this family, so I shouldn't be surprised. I love that the crown is too big on her, it's a great detail.

Oookay, Daemon cutting her head off is NOT what I expected but yeah, just another sign of him losing the coin toss. Her disembodied head chastising him is ... an interesting touch.

Why are his hands bloody if he was only dreaming?

It's sad that instead of the four Muppet Tullys, we just hear of one and see another. Somebody with this show has no sense of humor and it ain't GRRM. C'mon, give me Grover, Elmo, Kermit, and Oscar, not just Oscar. Let the fans have some fun in an episode that is going to be nothing but pain.

Daemon, your sense of humor is not endearing you to anyone at all.

I just checked, GRRM hasn't said exactly how the Muppet Tullys are related to Catelyn Stark and her siblings, but that's not surprising -- there are huge gaps in most of the Great Houses' family trees.

Dismissing Oscar like that definitely isn't going to make him want to fight for you, Daemon. Of course, Daemon wouldn't know diplomacy if it bit him on the ass. Who in the fuck thought this trip to Harrenhal would be a good idea? Oh yeah, it was him. :P

I get a little giddy when House Blackwood is mentioned. What can I say, my favorite ASOIAF character is Brynden "Bloodraven" Rivers, the bastard son of a Blackwood mother and a Targaryen father, and the great-grandson of Daemon and Rhaenyra.

Ooo, does Rhaenys suspect that Alyn is her husband's bastard? (She's right, of course.) But touching his face like that, very creepy.

She does know! Corlys' past has come back to haunt their marriage.

"draw us back from the abyss." Too bad it won't happen. But at least Rhaenys knows the war is going to be very bad for everyone. She's not blinded by glory, duty, or anything else.

The dragon statuette Alicent's holding looks like it was carved out of Styrofoam, like it doesn't weigh a thing. Yeah, it doesn't sound like stone when it falls and breaks either. Where did the budget for this show go?

An abortifacient? And Alicent's pretending it's NOT for her? I'm sure the Grand Maester saw right through that. At least this is sparing Westeros from an Alicent-Criston baby. Can you imagine the utter nightmare such a kid would be?

Your doubts are nice to see but they're far too late, Alicent.

This Team Black Small Council is full of old men with no brains whatsoever. They do have plenty of misogyny, though. *eyeroll* Feed them all to your dragon, Baela.

I don't remember what Ser Alfred's surname is so I can't look him up but I really fucking hate him. I'm glad Corlys was able to shut him up (temporarily). I want a woman (any woman) to best him then kill him, is that too much to ask?

So, for two episodes running, we've seen the immediate aftermath of battles but not the battles themselves. It's a cost-saving measure by HBO, I'm sure, but they can't keep this up narratively -- it'll get boring after a while. I had to look up this one, it's the sack of Duskendale.

"Whore of Dragonstone," huh? Well, Criston, you're the Whore of King's Landing. :P

His white cloak is filthy. No honor in that man whatsoever and his cloak absolutely shows that.

Gwayne's face is bloody. I'm surprised he actually fought. He seems to be the type to hang back and let other people do the fighting for him.

"You are not fit for the white cloak." Tell him! He never was.

"Yours will come in kind." Too bad the Butcher's Ball (probably) isn't until next season, I can't wait to see it.

Ooo, Criston is avoiding Harrenhal! He's showing brains for fucking once. (It won't last.)

Green Small Council and they're talking about Rook's Rest. The ticking of the clock is getting louder and louder. Also, Aemond really does like to pout pensively, doesn't he? I'd hate him for it but fuck, he's too pretty (fucking nuts but yes, too pretty).

Things are getting tense between the brothers and the rest of the council is uncomfortably caught in the middle. Squirm, fellas. You deserve it. Oh, and where's Alicent? Knowing this show, she's probably hemorrhaging somewhere from the abortifacient.

Is this the first time we've seen any of Alicent's kids speak High Valyrian? But it looks like Aemond is fluent and Aegon II is decidedly not. Now I want fanfics of Aemond being firstborn and Aegon being the youngest, just to see if he would've been a better king. Looks like Aegon II realizes his baby brother does have strengths of his own.

No hemorrhaging but it looks like Alicent is making her own medieval heating pad. Larys isn't stupid, Alicent. It's in his nature to notice EVERYTHING, including the bottle you left out in the open. Aemond really didn't get his brains from his mother, did he?

"covered himself in glory" There's a phrase I never thought I'd hear in this franchise.

Larys knows about Alicole, lovely.

Back to Harrenhal. Daemon is following Aemond but I can only assume he's dreaming again, there's no way Aemond got there that quickly. Plus, we haven't seen Aemond's face yet. Besides, this is way too soon for the Battle Above The Gods Eye. I knew it -- "Aemond" has Daemon's face. Yeah, Freud would've had a field day with this dream.

Alys again. My apologies to the actress but I really fucking hate her voice. Nails on a chalkboard. (It's not her accent, that's fine, it's her voice itself.)

Daemon, a woman you suspect of being a witch gives you something to drink and you fucking do it? You have no self-preservation instincts left, do you?

Ser Willem's cute but I'm pretty sure the show's writers made him up -- Benjicot Blackwood didn't have a regent and I can't find any mention of his father having a younger brother. Well, at least he'll be nice to watch while he lasts (which I'm sure won't be long).

Hi, Laena! Back from the dead to haunt Daemon's conscience, I see.

As much as I like the Blackwoods, they really need to let their feud with the Brackens die out. (They won't, of course.)

"I removed them, I didn't burn them." For some reason, I really like the way TGC delivered that line. Whatever you're doing after HOTD, Tom, I intend to see it.

Aegon, you're merely a figurehead now. Unfortunately for you (but fortunately for the realm), you don't have the brains to be anything more.

Wow, Alicent really doesn't think highly of him, does she? I don't know if that's for the best but it makes me feel sorry for Aegon, just a little. If his parents actually gave a damn about him while he was growing up, he wouldn't have turned out the way he did.

Is that Rook's Rest? Title cards would've helped so much. If a castle wasn't in GoT, I can't be expected to recognize it, okay?

"They will not expect it because it is fucking madness." I hate Gwayne but he's right and I can't help liking that line.

"Are you afraid, Ser?"

"Worse. I'm rational."

Yep, I like that line too. Why is Gwayne getting all the good lines? It's making me like him a little and I don't want to.

Jace, your attitude is unhelpful. Show a little more respect to your mother and monarch, especially around other people. I'm not for corporal punishment normally but if I were Rhaenyra, I'd slap you.

Ugh, Rhaenyra's little trip has cost her what little respect she had from her small council.

Jace is a little too eager to use the nukes, isn't he? Kid, you'll never be a good king if you're this trigger happy. Rhaenyra wants to go, Jace wants to go. She undermines him in front of everyone. Good! Serves him right.

Rhaenys offers to go. Yeah, we knew this was coming.

Sorry but Jace is a brat. He's not ready to rule. He's not even ready to be the heir. He's too much of a hothead.

Ugh, the ASOIAF talk. Making this prophecy part of House Targaryen's legacy was a dumb idea.

Sunfyre nudging Aegon in the shoulder like he's a horse is just too cute. This'll be the last cute moment of the series, I'm sure.

Vhagar looks like she just wants to take a nap. Too bad Aemond didn't let her.

Aemond commands Vhagar in Valyrian, Aegon commands Sunfyre in English (sorry, Common Tongue). That says a lot about both of them.

Cole didn't want Aegon on the battlefield but he's not losing a chance to spin this to their advantage. Soldiers always fight harder when their leader is fighting with them.

Meleys vs Sunfyre. Poor Sunfyre is getting torn apart. (What can I say, the animals are innocent in this war.) He's bleeding out.

Vhagar really shouldn't be able to fly with that many holes in her wings.

Oh shit, is Aemond TRYING to kill his brother or is Aegon just in the way?

Poor Sunfyre's screeching sounds a lot like a bird (or a pterodactyl).

Rhaenys, you could've retreated and lived to fight another day.

Fuck this family, the Targaryen stubborn streak will get them all killed.

A seatbelt?! Do you really think that's going to save you against another fucking DRAGON?!

Holy fuck, the size difference between Meleys and Vhagar is ridiculous.

Cole got knocked off his horse while he was trying to get to Aegon. Too bad it didn't kill him.

I could've done without that jump scare, Ryan. :P

Not exactly how Rhaenys died in the book but honestly, I think I like this version better. She looked resigned to her fate as she was falling.

I think Cole might have a punctured lung. Or maybe that was just the sound of him trying to breathe on a battlefield full of smoke. I'm pretty sure he's got a concussion, but then he doesn't have much of a brain to injure. :P

Cole, you're on foot and you passed a horse just standing there. If you're not up for riding, at least bring the damn horse with you.

Aemond looking like he's about to do some more kinslaying, lovely.

A dying Sunfyre and an unmoving Aegon, lovely.

Aemond really has the devil's own luck. Too bad it runs out (next season).

Hey, writers, you spared Ser Harrold Westerling from his book fate, when are you actually going to use him again?

[offorestsongs]

OC INTRODUCTION ➳ SWALLOW REYNARD

"You think you can outsmart me? Let's test that theory, sounds like fun."

A star of the Spelldrive team and an enjoyer of (what he thinks is) harmless chaos, Swallow considers himself a vigilante of Night Raven College. He proudly boasts about standing up for the poor and the bullied and seems to target the more well-off students with his antics, though some students speculate he does it more for the fun of it (and to pocket some money), than out of actual goodness of his heart.

BASIC INFORMATION

full name 🦊 Swallow Reynard nicknames 🦊 Monsieur Voleur (Rook), Water Cricket (Floyd), crow (Leona), rat bastard (Kalle) species 🦊 fox beastman height 🦊159 cm age 🦊 17 y/o birthday 🦊 17.10 gender 🦊 cis male (he/him) sexuality 🦊 bi + demisexual hometown 🦊 Queendom of Roses dorm 🦊 Heartslabyul class 🦊 2-A club 🦊Spelldrive favorite subject 🦊Flight dominant hand 🦊right talent 🦊whittling, pickpocketing hobby 🦊archery, fencing favorite food 🦊bread and cheese least favorite food 🦊caviar pet peeve 🦊royalty, just rich people in general twisted from 🦊 Robin Hood (from the 1973 movie) signature spell 🦊 Merry Thief - allows him to walk without making a sound or casting a shadow; it's considered a pretty harmless and weak spell and doesn't use a lot of magic

PERSONALITY

The very definition of "chaotic lawful" - he seems to be concerned a great deal with justice and certainly has a strong moral code, yet no one is able to figure what exactly it is. Swallow himself would said it's pretty easy, actually. He wehemently hates people born into comfort and money or those who hold power over others, as he believes that everyone should be equal in standing.

He's usually pretty friendly and cheery, some say - overly so, as he doesn't seem to take anything seriously. Nobody ever knows what to expect from him; he's quite shifty, likes to cause a little bit of mischief and takes a great deal of joy in annoying the people that he thinks deserve it. He's confident (often overly so), flashy and loves attention. He treats everything he does like putting on a show.

He doesn't respect authority and doesn't really care about getting an education, thinking good grades won't help him in "real" life, which makes him a problem student even compared to the rest of Night Raven College. Despite his less than perfect grades though, he's very clever and witty, good at thinking quickly and resistant to stress.

RELATIONSHIPS

Riddle Rosehearts - unexpected to many (Riddle included), Swallow actually really respects Riddle and everytime they're together, he's on his best behavior. He often offers his help to Riddle, be it with organising the unbirthday parties or just making him tea. He also tends to flirt with Riddle a lot, not out of any actual interest, but just because he finds Riddle's reactions funny.

Leona Kingscholar - Swallow is Leona's personal nightmare. He considers Leona to be everything he hates (rich, royal, lazy) put into one human being and so he does everything in his power to make Leona's life worse. It's especially true during the Spelldrive matches; he takes every opportunity to make himself the star of the show, even when it puts them in danger of losing the actual game. The only reason why Leona haven't kicked him out yet is because Swallow is geniuenly a really good player.

Ruggie Bucchi - on the other hand, Swallow thinks Ruggie is pretty cool and sometimes helps him in his endeavors to earn more money. He also constantly tries to get Ruggie too ditch Leona.

Azul Ashengrotto - another one of Swallow's prime targets. He finds Azul's greediness and false benevolence to be downright disgusting. On the other hand Azul thinks that Swallow's beliefs in an "equal world" is nothing more than laughable. Swallow often visits the Mostro Lounge to be a pain in the ass, getting dragged into heated debates with Azul, since both of them feel the need to prove the other wrong.

Kalle Brunne (my OC) - as somebody whose life revolves mostly around being Azul's guard dog, Kalle considers Swallow to be one of the worst students at NRC. Everytime they see Swallow, their blood boils with anger. In turn, Swallow doesn't think much of Kalle, mostly considering them kind of pathetic for kissing Azul's boots.

Kalim Al-Asim - Swallow is nice to Kalim :). Why wouldn't he be? Look at how good of friends they are! And if Swallow uses Kalim's nicety to try and get money out of him - well. Kalim has too much of it anyways. Nobody should care.

Jamil Viper - similar to Kalle, Jamil's feelings towards Swallow are less than positive. He considers him not only a general nuisance, but also an actual threat to his job. He tries to get Swallow away from Kalim, while Swallow thinks that Jamil should just ditch Kalim completely and doesn't understand why he didn't do so already.

TRIVIA

his last name is a reference to Reynard the Fox, a character from medieval literature that was also partly an inspiration for the 1973 Robin Hood movie

he uses light magic

the card of his dorm uniform is Jack of Hearts

he cuts his hair himself - he wears his hair in a ponytail mostly to hide the fact that he actually has the worst mullet known to man

he takes a great care of his tail, always making sure it's soft and shiny

he's good at identifing which mushrooms are edible and which aren't

he likes flirting with people just to see their reactions

WRITING

headcanons; swallow fun facts!

fics; flirty prompts ask game

CARDS

[SSR] Loungewear [SR] Pumpkin King (fan event)

[cartoonfanaticmonsterrobotalien]

Monster Universe AU Short Story: Monster Morty TF

Note: Like I said, I’ll also do monster au stories other than Solar Opposites, because that’s just how I do. But don’t worry, I’ll still do Solar Opposites/Mighty Solars stuff! Just this idea came in mind thanks to this artwork that got me intrigued! I decided to do something amazing based on one of my favorite shows, since it was created by the same people that created Solar Opposites! This show came out when I was still a kid, and I found out about it when I saw the Season 2 Premiere on YouTube back in 2015, which got me interested once I was old enough to watch it at the age of 16! And after seeing the loving but dysfunctional relationship between Rick and his grandson Morty, I decided to add Rick’s Papa Wolf-Syndrome in this one! Hope you Rick and Morty fans enjoy this!

On the planet, known as Galaxbeast-9, Rick and Morty were running for their lives by a group of monstrous aliens known as the Galaxbeasts. Thanks to Rick’s fucked bullshit of stealing a strange serum, the Galaxbeasts are now hot on the duo’s assses. Morty screams as the beasts attempt to grab him, but he luckily kicks one away from him as he catches up with his grandpa.

Morty: Great plan Rick!

Rick: Hey now, belches Morty! Those fucking Galaxbeasts deserve it, with their toxic messes up venom and intoxicating bullshit roaming around space!

Morty: Well not your plan is about to fuck us!

Rick: Oh shit!

The duo are then surrounded by the Galaxbeasts as their leader, BoDawn approaches them savagely.

BoDawn: monster gibberish (what he’s saying in the dialogue is “You two guys have fucked up our planet long enough! This time, your asses are about to whooped! Prepare for our deadly venomous saliva you bitches!”)

Rick: Dude, the fuck are you saying? You aliens are real dummies man!

Morty: screaming voice Rick! Look out, their right hand is about to goop us!

The monsters then grabbed Rick and Morty by the goop from the right tentacle hands as Morty screams. The monsters then take the duo a strange palace, where BoDawn looks at them menacingly. BoDawn then orders his fellow Galaxbeasts to take Morty to another room as Morty began to realize in horror what is happening.

Morty: Wait?! What the hell is going on now?! What’s happening?! Where are these assholes taking me? Turns to Rick as he began to panic even more Rick! Rick, do something! screaming out Help!

Rick: Morty! struggling to break free Where you snarling bastards taking him?!

BoDawn: monster gibberish (what he is really saying is: “To our testing chamber for a painful experiment on humans who dare fuck with the Galaxbeasts! This kid is gonna get fuck man!)

Rick: What?! What the fuck are you guys even saying?! Where you taking my grandson?! kicks a Galaxbeasts in the shin as he escapes and uses a portal gun to find Morty

Meanwhile, in the chamber, Morty is struggling to break free as the Galaxbeasts scientists prepare to inject a needle into him.

Morty: Let me go you motherfuckers! You’re crazy! What are you guys going to do to me?!

Galaxbeasts Scientist #1: monster gibberish (what he is really saying is: “Administrate the serum into that whiney bitch!”)

The needle is injected into Morty as he screams in pain.

Morty: Ugh! Son of a bitch! clings to his arms and holds it as he began to feel pain inside of his body

Galaxbeast Scientist #2: monster gibberish (what he is really saying is “What the fuck is wrong with that kid”)

Morty: screaming in pain as he then suddenly sees a group of octopus-like succulents on his hands Grrrrrrr! What the hell is happening to me?!

Morty then gets down on the floor as he kneels down and the floor as he started snarling and his eyes began to green just like the travel portal’s color! His body began to grow muscular and bigger as it started to tear his whole clothes into shreds! His left hand grows some sharp claws! His forehead grew three glowing monstrous eyes as Morty continues to scream as his voice begans to grow deeper! His skin became monstrous and scaley like a dinosaur’s skin! His hair falls apart as it grows forehead spikes on it! His stomach grows very strong biceps and abs! His right arm became a tentacle hand as it has purple goop on it! As Morty began to complete his transformation as tears burst from his eyes, his teeth became razer sharp and monstrous with fangs! What stood before the Galaxbeasts was no longer the 14-year old boy Morty who is always the trusty lackey of his grandfather Rick in portal travel, but now a giant Galaxbeast looking furiously and monstrously at the aliens who did this to him.

Monster Morty: ROAR!

Rick: rushed right in the chamber with the portal gun Morty! Hang on, I got the portal gun, we can get outta he-

Rick then stops talking and gasp in horror once he saw his beloved grandson now a giant monster, but to make matters worse, Morty is too hard to be recognized with his monstrous appearance. Any traits that Morty ever have is gone as Rick struggles to get a weapon, only to be stop by BoDawn.

BoDawn: finds a translation device and zaps himself with it Ah, much better. Now, what was I gonna say, oh yeah? Got ya now Sanchez! You are about to now join your grandson and-

Rick, not listening, kicks the leader in his face and later beats up some of the Galaxbeasts. Then, he pummels Morty with burning rage as he prepare to demand the beast, where is his own grandson is.

Rick: I’m gonna fucking kill you if you do anything to hurt- suddenly began to look closely at Morty’s eyes as a flashback of him holding baby Morty ensues and it ends as it shifts back to the present as Morty started snarling Holy shit….. Morty?!

Monster Morty: roars as he began to attack Rick

Rick: Oh my God! It is you! Morty! Calm down! Everything’s gonna be okay! Just stay calm and we’ll get you home safely! gets swat by Morty in the tentacle hand Morty!

Monster Morty: growls and roars as berserk tears burst out of five eyes

Rick: Morty, no! Stop! It’s me, your grandpa Rick! Morty then doesn’t move and continue to snarl at his grandpa It’s gonna be okay! Please, stay calm and-

Suddenly, the Smith family’s travel ship burst in and it opens as it shows Beth, Space Beth, Jerry and Summer running up to Rick in concern.

Beth: Dad, what’s happening?!

Space Beth: Rick, what the fuck is happening?!

Jerry: Holy shit, what the hell happen?!

Summer: Grandpa Rick, where’s Morty?!

Suddenly, the family sees Morty and screams by his monstrous appearance, but luckily, Beth got out a grapple hook and ties up Morty as he struggles to break free.

Beth: Oh my God, what the hell happen to my son?

Summer: Oh my God! Is that Morty?!

Jerry: What have they done to our son?!

Space Beth: We must get him back! Who knows what effects can happen?!

Rick: Don’t worry, I got this! Once we get back!

The Sanchez-Smith family heads back to their ship and flies it back home while Rick looks back in worry and concern at Morty, who is struggling to break free from the net as he roars. The family then made it back to Earth as Rick kept Morty in the garage three hours later that night as Beth, Space Beth, Jerry and Summer wait worriedly. Rick then does some data on Morty with his technology scanner as Morty began to tear the grapple hook apart.

Monster Morty: growling

Rick: Hey, hey, hey, hey! Morty, stop! No! You’re out of control!

Monster Morty: roars as he breaks free and was about to attack Rick until Rick puts his hands gently on Morty’s head despite it having three eyes on the forehead

Rick: softly Hey, hey. Morty. Morty. It’s okay. You’re safe now. I’m here with you. Those Galaxbeasts are not gonna get you anymore. We’re gonna get through this, we’ll figure out a way to cure you from this fucked up condition. It’s gonna be okay. Grandpa Rick is here.

As Rick continues to soothe Morty by the forehead, part of Morty’s personality resurfaces as he began to talk again, but with a deep monstrous voice.

Monster Morty: R-Rick? What’s going on? Oh my God, I-I- what have I done? I did this? What’s happening to me…. Rick…. what am I gonna do…. I am so scared…. breaks down crying as Rick continues to make sucking sounds softly

Rick: soothes Morty Hey now, it’s okay Morty. You’re safe. It’s gonna be okay. I’m here for you…

As Rick places his hand on Morty’s right tentacle hand, Morty continues to cry as Rick continues to soothe him. Morty suddenly thens turns back to normal but naked as Rick gasp and places a blanket on Morty to cover him up. Morty continues to cry as Rick comforts him.

Morty: Rick, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I-My mind went crazy and I-

Rick: softly Hey, it’s gonna be okay Morty. We’ll find a way to fix this and- suddenly sees a portal open with two Galaxbeasts appearing What the fuck?! How did you guys get a portal gun?

Morty: Oh no! Rick?! What do we do now?! Rick gets pummeled by two of the Galaxbeast RICK!

All Morty can now see is neon yellow-green visions in his eyes as he growls and turns back into his monster form and roars loudly that the whole neighborhood hide in fear. Morty then gets into a fight with two of the Galaxbeasts. Morty stops the first one by clawing him by the back. But then, the Galaxbeasts slash Morty by the back as he screams.

Rick: Morty!

Morty gets back up and grabs the Galaxbeast by the back with his tentacle right hand as he slams it to the ground. Morty then sees the second Galaxbeast prepare to wack him with a light pole, right after Morty grabs the pole and roars in fury by slamming the Galaxbeast as he roars. Morty breaths in and out as he calms down once he sees the two now dead Galaxbeasts and Rick comes up to him worriedly as Morty starts to weep.

Monster Morty: weeping Rick, I’m so scared… why is this happening to me?!

Rick: I don’t know Morty, but don’t worry. We’ll figure out a way to fix this. I’ll be here every step of the way.

Rick places his forehead softly on Morty. Then later that night, in the garage, Morty is seen ready for bed since he is now forced to be controlled before he gains control of his form. Morty then hears his parents and Rick talking behind the closed door, discussing how is this whole thing gonna be handled.

Beth: muffling Dad, this horrible. I can’t have a monster for a son. Poor Morty is just a kid.

Rick: muffling I know Beth, but right now, Morty needs me. He has to stay put before anyone finds out about this. He’ll be in danger.

Jerry: muffling But this is bullshit! Morty doesn’t deserve this. He’s just fourteen years old! Why would any aliens do this to a child?

Rick: muffling and sighs I don’t know Jerry, but if this is the only way to protect Morty, so be it. No one can see him like this.

As Morty continues to hears his loved ones discussing how they are gonna handle this, tears burst from his eyes as he weeps silently and turns back into his monster form as he cries silently. Rick comes into the room and sees his grandson crying. Rick wipes Morty’s away softly and then puts his lab coat on Morty as he smiles back to him without making a sound. As Rick began to work, he looks back to his transformed grandson Morty with a determination on his face.

Rick: Don’t worry Morty, this transformation may be a but difficult. But, we’ll help you gain control of it. I promise. Because, no one fucks with my grandson

The end?

Credit goes to Edimay/SuperMonsterfan for the drawing of Monster Morty!

[1moreoffkeyanthem]

I love that everyone is coming to talk to you about fanfics, haha! Don't mind if I join in - tell us about your favourite style fanfic tropes. 😎

Fr lmaoooo idk where all this is coming from but I’m here for it!!!!

OH BOY DO I HAVE A LOT OF STYLE TROPES!!!

Okay so WEARING EACH OTHERS CLOTHES!!! God I eat that one up every time it’s so cute like I just KNOW growing up they had half their clothes at each other’s houses and constantly lost track of who owned what shirt and THEN!!! As they got older and weren’t the same size anymore (personally I’m a big boy Stan truther but it’s precious the other way too) and Kyle started absolutely SWIMMING in Stan’s baggy ass sweatshirts and Stan gets cuteness aggression lmao he’s just like awwww look how cute my super best boyfriend is in the peace love pine trees hoodie asjdjdkgfj

Calling each other “dude” romantically!!! Like other pet names come into play but dude stays bc it’s them

WHEN THEY HAVE THEIR OWN SECRET UNSPOKEN LANGUAGE like they’re always on the same wavelength totally in sync with each other!!! They understand each other like no one else, can read each other like a book, fully on the same side and will follow each other to the ends of the earth!!!

Okay okay we all know I STAY reading and writing style whump and PROTECTIVENESS!!! When they worry about each other constantly and get so freaked out when one of them isn’t okay I eat that shit UP every time I love them defending each other, physically or verbally, like no one fucks with Stan without experiencing Kyle Rage and vice versa!!! When Stan is the one to completely flip his lid and panic because Kyle’s hurt or in danger just AAAAA

On that note: TAKING CARE OF EACH OTHER!!! There’s a reason most of my stories have a “yep I injured the boys again” tag because I LIVE for the sweet sweet tender moments after an Incident where they’re patching up each other’s wounds all worried and Soft, talking each other through the pain and telling them that it’s gonna be okay bonus points if we get a tearful “I could’ve lost you” “you didn’t, I’m right here” GOOD SHIT RIGHT THERE!!!

On THAT note (sorry I’m just fucking insane) STAN CARRYING KYLE!!!!!!!!! Once again I’m a short angy Kyle/ big boy Stan truther and I looovvvvveeee a little bridal style carrying moment holy shit (I’m surprised I didn’t put any of that in my style week stuff lmao) like I am fully guilty of putting my favorite redhead in Situations JUST so I can have that, like I gave OrangeJuiceVerse Kyle chronic knee pain, diabetes, an ed, and Stan carries him so much lmfao someone put me in Making Kyle Suffer Jail

Ok another one I love is Kyle as the Voice of Reason! Like when he’s the go to guy, savior complex mom friend who just wants to take care of everyone! And boy howdy does Stan not make it easy lmao between him and Kenny (the disaster duo) that man is Exasperated

THEM BEING EACH OTHERS RIGHT HAND MAN!!!!! Fighting side by side, Stan and Kyle against the world! When they can depend on each other more than anyone else and trust each other with their lives. Stan would follow Kyle into a burning building and Kyle would pull him out! That trope is why I’m so feral about stick of truth like they gotta be on the same side or they feel like somethings missing (codependent bastards)

Stan playing guitar for Kyle/ Kyle reading to Stan!!! The domesticity ugh I love it

Casual cuddling oh my godddddd like even before they got together they’re always touching each other in some way and Cartman’s like it’s fuckin gay to cuddle at sleepovers you guys are 15 and they’re like fym it’s not gay to cuddle the homies? (It so is) best friends to lovers on TOP!!!

Them generally being huge simps like PLEASE why y’all staring longingly also in the same vein them thinking the other is the most beautiful thing in the world those two are DOWN HORRENDOUS

I also reeeaaaaly like when they’re kissin… and it starts off all slow and sweet… and then it gets more passionate… and suddenly Stan’s hands are tangled in Kyle’s hair and Kyle’s pushing him against the wall and they’re practically falling into each other desperate to be closer and whispering “I love you” into each others mouths and nothing in the world exists other than the two of them and

Lmao that’s some of my favorite style tropes I’m super normal about them obviously

[reefer-reelz-n-reviews]

The Mummy (1999)

Smoking: SuckerPunch

Another favorite! Expect to see the trilogy appearing in the next episodes of Reefer – Reelz – N – Reviews! Something else that I know practically word for word

Open with a MAJOR flash back. We have the wonderful Arnold Vosloo who’s forbidden love with Patricia Velasquez. Leaving them to, do what they usually do, try to raise them from the dead so they can be together. Typically Mummy stuff 😂

 

How much would that suck... to be eaten AND buried alive? Like no thanks!

Then, the beautiful, the rugged, the omg I wanna ride his face, Brendan Fraser enters a war zone. The year 1923. Don’t forget about the also, wanna ride him, Oded Fehr 🤤 this cast man… panty droppers. All of ‘em.

Then we have my previous life, the ever-clumsy Evelyn Carnahan. Played by the gorgeous Rachel Weisz. I couldn’t imagine having to fix all of those book shelves. Like that just sounds like the biggest pain in the butt. “A bit of a mess in the library,” my ass.

BF is such a great actor. The way you can see him realize who Jonathan is before he punches him. I should do a few more of his movies on here. I really like Monkey Bone, what a trip.

Who uses the word “Flimflam” ☠️ flimflam 😂 I feel like I should use it more.

Omid Djalili shouldn’t have gone off on his own. One of the movie laws, never go off alone. Doesn’t help that he’s greedy. Deserves his fate. Stinking bugs!

I know I said that I was Evy in a past life, when JH hits that rock and the sarcophagus falls from the ceiling. That, is something that would happen to me 😂 “Either he’s someone of great importance, or he did something very naughty.”

 

Of course, BF has to get all extra with some dynamite. I mean it works, but so extra.

I feel bad for the guys who took the jars. I mean that’s one hell of a way to go. Get sucked into AV to help him regenerate doesn’t seem like a way I’d want to go…

🤔 Maybe the reason I have so many cats is because I wanna be safe from the mummy 🤣

I love how JH can get the crazed mob back into a calm mob chanting Imhotep so he doesn’t get attacked when he goes to get the car. RW just pokes a guy in his eye to get him off the car 😂

“I love the whole sand wall trick. Beautiful. Bastard.” I have to say that even though Kevin J O’Connor flips into working for the bad guy, he cracks me up the most. “Think of my children.” BF – you don’t have any Children.” “Some day I might.” I mean gold!

Time for Spicy Garlic Pickles 🤤 and some shrimp chips!

You know… a lot of people burned in this movie. Like full body.

I love how they just happen to get the camels that KO puts his treasure on. Like of course that happened. Movie logic right. He deserved how he died, just saying.

Well, that’s it for this episode. Toke on.

-RRR

[oletus-manors-log]

good luck on renovating your new blogs and playing as rescuer doctor!! ✨✨ and good luck on trying to write. o7 maybe u can get some ideas from writing prompts like this ( https://www.tumblr.com/make-me-imagine/684813017765003264/sensory-prompts-2?source=share ) but instead of ur followers choosing one for you, you pick one that you like yourself? but yeah, i really love how you write for idv characters and excited to see more of your works. i'm rooting for you !!! (ง•̀o•́)ง

i don't have anything interesting happen in my life. i have been mostly studying and working for college, if not i would be playing honkai star rail and refreshing the idv x reader tag every 2 hours hoping to find something new related to my favorite characters ATUXHSJXHXH

- seer anon 🦉

Ty! They're very fun to do but also p much a pain HAOSHSIS I HAVE TO RENOVATE THIS ONE TOO 😩 absolute pain in the ass but I have a theme I can go so that's fun BAHAHAHAHA

And ooh, I can def use those prompts yes yes— I need to see which one I want to haunt first to yeet the stilts boi (Ithaqua) because my man and his voice has me "wait— oh I smell young adult being a bastard" (which doesn't help with the hcs I have of him if someone ends up going "lmao Navi what if you write hcs of him", do not tempt me. One is literally "y'all realize he'll have you carried on his arms or back right")

ALSO PLEASE SOBS IM SO GLAD YOU LOVE MY WORK— I sometimes feel like they lack in some areas (looking at my Naiad one. I forgot she was mute, but oh well), but I certainly will push out more! 🫡 I'm not gonna stop once I got my groove back, that's for certain KEKW

Ah yes, HSR, the one of the few HYV games I want to play but my phone would murder me LMAO— also felt for the IDV x reader tag. I swear, it's why I binge the fics in the tags because some are actually rlly interesting. I've binged a shitton of Itha's because the interaction from rp blogs of him and those that write abt him is... Very good material.

(another few I'd say I have binged religiously are Eli, Naib, Norton, sometimes Luca and a random set of hunters— aka "Navi chooses one hunter to hyperfixate on". Yes, my current ones are Antonio and Itha. Why? They're both bastards.)

Speaking of which, what are your faves? 👁️ Just a curious question I had since I like talking to others abt these things

[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!

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“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.”