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burnedbyshoto · 4 years ago

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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.

“Kirishima?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

But he was obviously not the first choice still.

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

“Toshinori—”

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

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

He had barely passed the admittance test.

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

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

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

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

“I can do it.”

A smile.

“Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were tiny.

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

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

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

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

“Six months tops.”

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

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

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

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

“...no,” Kirishima answers truthfully.

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

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

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

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

Fuck, that one hurt.

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

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

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

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

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

“Six months,” Kirishima agreed.

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

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

“You got it.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, yes, let’s continue.”

So, the contract was discussed to full detail.

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

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

Or so the contract said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, so much for a good case.

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

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

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

You always managed to sneak away from him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ya, okay, bye!”

“By—”

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

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

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

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

He wanted to be just a fan.

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

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

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

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

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

“You know I can’t do that it’s not—”

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

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

And then there’s only silence.

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

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

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

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

He knew that.

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

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

You were a good person.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...how interesting.

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

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

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

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

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

“Very much.”

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

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

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

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

So much for change.

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

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

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

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

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

It had been a hard morning.

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

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

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

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

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

But today, Kirishima was exhausted.

Today, Kirishima wanted to sleep.

Today… Kirishima broke.

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

You ignore him.

“We’re leaving, now.”

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

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

He grabs your wrist and begins pulling you away.

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

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

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

Oh, right.

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

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

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

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

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

“Compromises aren’t—”

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

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

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

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

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

“Wh-”

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

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

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

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

And for a moment, it’s quiet.

Until a single name is screamed.

“SERGEANT!”

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

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

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

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

The van turns on.

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

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

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

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

T082-23

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

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

Well, shit.

So much for the month of no attacks.

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

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

But they also gave him an essential piece of information.

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

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

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

For now, he was waiting for you.

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

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

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

“Should we go?”

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

“I actually wanted to talk before we left.”

Oh?

“Of what, if I may ask?”

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

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

“Sure.”

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

The contract was then discussed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course, Kirishima.”

“Oh, and y/n?”

“Yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kirishima stood in the softly lit hallways of a sauna.

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

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

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

Well, everyone but Kirishima, that was.

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

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

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

A stressful month had passed into a friendlier one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I-If that’s okay?”

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

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

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

“No, I’m okay,” you politely decline.

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

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

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

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

“So, what questions do you have?”

“Hm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A pause.

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

A nod.

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

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

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

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

What had happened?

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

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

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

“Was that um, Major—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wasn’t made of glass.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

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

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

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

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

“PERVERT!”

“What?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, his dreams were never like this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kirishima stepped back out to the hot spring.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jenny, are you okay?” you called.

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

“We weren’t fucking you prude!”

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

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

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

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

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

What was he going to do now?

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

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

Bad, Kirishima, bad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That sounds amazing, Kimiko!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whoever it was, pfft.

Kirishima was willing to bet on who it was already.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something.

Anything.

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

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

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

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

He was going to.

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

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

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

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

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

“Ready to move out?”

“We’re all clear.”

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

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

“Damn right I will.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Such a brat.”

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

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

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

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

T082-23.

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

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

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

You really came to life right now.

You were beautiful.

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

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

He was here.

Every warning bell sounded in Kirishima’s head.

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

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

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

Wait.

“What?! Family member?!”

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

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

There was no way you wouldn’t.

Was he wrong?

Who was it?

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

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

Oh fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

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

“...she’s drunk?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was a reason why you were considered a legend.

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

You smile.

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

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

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

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

How were they related?

What connected them?

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

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

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

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

Kirishima panted as he looked before him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was he ready?

Actually ready?

Save her, his past whispered.

Save her, his nightmares screamed.

Save her, his heart yelled.

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

BANG!

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tonight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you resisted and might have been harsher than needed.

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

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

But it was growing late.

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

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

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

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

Kirishima laughed, his hands twisting in yours, wrapping it around so that he raised your hands up to press a kiss to the center of your palms.

“A futon, brat,” Kirishima explained, his smile small but sharp with his humor. “Let’s get you to bed?”

You frown.

“Where will you be sleeping then?”

“My couch is just fine.”

“I’m sure your stuffing in a trash bag had holes in it.”

“That’s okay,” Kirishima laughed, standing up and quickly taking you to your feet as well. “It’s just for a night, I’ll live.”

Your face warmed immediately as he guided you down the hallway of his apartment before finally coming into what was definitely his room.

Kirishima’s scent was faint in this room, cinnamon, wood, and warm spices. It made your eyes flutter as you observed his room from the entryway as he began to set up the room.

His eye for interior decoration was quite… different. You smiled brightly as you glanced around; the diverse and rather boyish decorations around the room warmed your heart. It seemed exactly like what you would think of for Kirishima.

“Well, that’s all!” Kirishima exclaimed, his hands landing on his hips in triumph as he looked around. “The bathroom is the next door over, and I’ll leave a toothbrush out for you. I also left out a new t-shirt of mine if you want to change!”

You nod some more, watching as Kirishima seems unsure of what to do next. He looks around, coughs a bit before nodding.

“Okay, I’ll be leaving—”

“Um, can we talk?” you interrupt, arms wrapping around your body. “I have some things I want to say.”

“Oh, sure!”

“You can sit,” you say, motioning toward the bed. “I have a few things to get off my chest.”

Kirishima pauses for a bit, his eyes looking you over before he eventually nods, and he sits down. The bed slightly creaks under his weight, and you feel your body warm-up at the sound. You want to hear the bed creak more, to rock under the weight of you and him pressed against the sheets as you cried his name.

“What is it?” he asks gently, observing you.

“I just…” you huff, words failing you, your tongue feeling heavy. “I wanted to say thank you for saving me.”

“It was my job to do that,” Kirishima smiled warmly, his arms crossing again.

He was relaxed.

“I mean, I can’t even begin to believe that it was Kimiko who was behind all that, even though we know it was… I know it was,” you trail off, shivering slightly as you remember your ex-managers demented laugh in your ear. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“Nothing would’ve happened to you,” Kirishima spoke with finality. “I promised to myself at the first meeting I was going to protect you, hell the entire world would. You’re not going to be taken down by pathetic people like that, not you.”

“Really?”

“One hundred percent.”

“I feel like I should repay you in some way, though,” you rub the back of your neck, eyes fluttering just the slightest bit flirtatious. Kirishima looked at you with full mooned eyes, his arms unfolding and his palms resting onto the bedspread.

“You repay me plenty already,” came his whispered answer, so quiet, so pure you almost smiled. “You don’t have to do anything.”

Your tongue pushes past your lip, wetting the drying skin as you take a step toward him. The shoulders of the jacket slowly fall from your own shoulders, pooling just above your elbows as you stop before him, hands resting daintily on his broad shoulders.

“And what if I want something?” you ask, finding yourself stemming with energy as his legs part, allowing you closer access to him.

You step in closer and closer until your outer thighs are ghosting against the inner part of his.

“I think it’s in our contract for me to do everything that you request if I remember correctly,” Kirishima whispers, his bright clear red eyes turning a burnt shade: dark and ever consuming.

“And if I want you to finish what you started over at the onsen?” you press, fingers curling against the muscles of his shoulders before locking behind his neck.

His nose was brushing against yours, cold yet burning against your own skin.

“I’ll gladly show you what I wanted to do that night,” he grunts, eyes deadly, and for the first time, his hands held your waist.

You took a second to recover, your skin sparking with the electricity of his touch, and you suppressed a shiver as you opened your eyes.

“Do it,” you cement your fates, “coward.”

And just like that, in a movement so euphoric, Kirishima’s mouth crashed against yours.

His mouth was hot, dangerous against yours -- a live wire sparking with uncontrollable energy and heat as your mouths danced. Hot puffs of air were passed between your mouths, your fingers shaking with an undeniable release of tension and want.

The kiss was sloppy, desperate, so needy with unspoken frantic determination to fuck each other until the other could no longer move.

Kirishima’s hand removed the jacket from your arms, letting the expensive material fall onto the floor with a heavy thud. Despite the lack of warmth the clothing provided, the feeling of Kirishima’s hands rubbing against your bare arms sent your mind spiraling.

“Get on the bed,” Kirishima commands against your mouth. “Let me fuck you.”

The words were nearly embarrassingly desperate, but the tone of his voice spoke of the absolute domination he wished to assert on you. He wanted you in one exact way, and you had a feeling you knew what it was. But if he had been paying attention, Kirishima should already know that getting you to listen was not easy.

“No,” you grin against his mouth.

Kirishima pulls away instantly, his lips red and swollen as he replays your word in his head. He looks frazzled, absolutely delirious already at the simple, passion-filled makeout. As soon as his eyes clear away the fog, your grin drops, and instead, you look at him with fierce determination and defiance.

“No?” he repeats.

“No,” you confirm.

Your chest feels light, your head spinning as the hands on your waist tighten, and his eyes flash dangerously. The tip of his tongue pushes past his lips before quickly disappearing again.

“Of course, you’re a brat in bed too, such a fucking princess,” Kirishima shakes his head, but his mouth curving into a shark-like grin.

Menacing, promising, sending chilling shivers down your spine.

The world spins faster than you can keep up, your mouth opening to shriek as Kirishima easily lifts you up, and has you lying against his lap.

“I’m going to let you in on a little secret, princess,” Kirishima begins, his large fingers hooking into the waistband of the sweats you have on and the panties you’re wearing. “My princess gets rewards for being good. If she can behave properly, she gets to be fucked with dick, her pussy gets to be fucked just the way she pleases.”

You can’t help but stifle a moan that threatens to spill out with his words and the way his hands move down the curve of your ass, exposing the naked skin to him. The waistband of both your panties and sweats stay high up your thighs, and it’s almost embarrassing to know you’re still so clothed despite what’s to come.

“And just what does the Sergeant do to bad girls?” you ask, unable to keep your tongue down, your hips rolling against his lap in undeserved friction.

Unexpectedly, abruptly, a hand comes down harshly onto your bare ass.

The contact is rough, stinging against your ass as you cry out in slight pain.

The hand not currently rubbing a warning circle into your ass twists the hair at the top of your head, lifting your head up so that your ear could near his mouth.

“Bad girls get punishments. They get what I want to give them. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Holy shit,” you whimper, heat flaring between your thighs at the thought of Kirishima doing anything to you regardless of if you were good or bad. You rut your ass back against his hand, longing for a heavier touch, a plea for something more.

“What does the princess want?”

“Nothing,” you bite, and the crashing smack of another spank has you moaning loudly at the stinging pleasure-filled pain.

“You moaning like a whore at a simple spank says otherwise,” Kirishima chuckles darkly, his fingers pinching your stinging ass as your body bucks against him. He spanks you again, again, and again. Each slap is intentful, powerful, wanting to get you to admit what you want, and you cry against your hands each time, your eyes fluttering as the pain feels good.

“Of course, a slut like you would be getting off on this,” Kirishima seems amused, his thick finger pressing to the slit of your cunt, spreading your dripping essence against your cunt. He presses against your entrance with just the tip of his finger, and you shriek in a sound for more, your hips jerking backward to get his finger into you, to fuck you with those thick fingers to do something about the growing desperate heat.

“Kirishima!” you scream, your body sweating and twisting on his lap, desperate to find some way to get him to finger fuck you.

“Ah, there we go,” he sighs in delight as his fingers swirl at your entrance, increasing the teasing and making your mind spin. “Tell me what you want, brat.”

“You!” you wail, two of his fingers carting between your wet, sloppy heated lips. They graze your clit, stimulating you further as you can do nothing but instinctively jerk against his hold, trying to get him to give you the needed pleasure to build up to an orgasm. “I want you to fuck me so good! Please, Sergeant, please, I want you to fuck me until I can’t remember anything but your name.”

“But you haven’t proven to be a good princess,” Kirishima tuts, his hands disappearing from your pussy despite your crying pleas. His hand grabs your ass, though, massaging the abused skin, grasping it tightly.

You moan, embarrassed at the sensation of his massive hand easily cupping your ass cheek, your fingers fisting into the fabric of his pants as you shake your head.

“Are you going to prove that you’re good?” he asks you, his tone like that of a parent chastising a child. “Gonna prove to me that you can be good?”

You shake pathetically against his legs, but you can’t keep yourself from shaking your head. You can’t prove to him that you would be.

“I can’t!” you whimper loudly, your body twisting on his lap to look up at him, your eyes filled with tears and pleading need. Kirishima looked down at you with lust filled eyes and an undeniable need to be followed.

“You can’t?” he repeats, his head tilting, eyes narrowing, and his fingers dug into your ass. “Or you won’t?”

You tremble on top of him, unable to answer because you weren’t ready to hand over the reins just yet. You didn’t want to submit so fast, you wanted to make his own head dizzy with need but the stubbornness to continue punishing you the way he was promising.

“I won’t,” you gasp, eyes fluttering at the way he finally drops your head.

You gasp loudly as you find him shoving you off his lap, and with your panties and sweats sitting so awkwardly high on your legs, you find yourself tumbling off his lap and onto the floor.

“Guess if you don’t want to behave, I’ll treat you like some fucking pussy pocket and dispose of you once I’m done,” Kirishima easily breathes, and you look up at the now standing man as he tears his shirt off.

Your mouth waters, your cunt throbbing at the sight of the rippling muscles and dark lines of his tattoos on his upper body. You watch fascinated, like one does to a masterpiece, as he undresses until he’s in nothing but his socks. And at the sight of his dick, you can feel at once all the blood in your flushed face drop directly into your throbbing cunt.

He was fucking enormous, his girth barely fitting into his hand, and the angry red head spilled its precum against his abs. A black happy trail connecting Kirishima’s abs to his vein throbbing cock.

Holy fuck, he could quickly kill you with that.

Kirishima doesn’t ask any questions as he watches your awkwardly dressed state of a body on the floor. His head is tilted upwards, a small pleased smile on his face as he looks down on you, his hand slowly, leisurely fisting his cock as you can do nothing but stare.

You make some insane noise at the back of your throat at this sight, your thighs trembling with need, and you're pushing off your side, your ass burning, and your balance off as you open your mouth, offering all you could to him.

And thankfully, Kirishima allows it.

He’s much too tall for you to suck him off on your knees, so he sits back down onto the bed, letting you scamper between his legs, mouth open wide like some needy pet.

“Such a good little slut,” Kirishima sighs, sinking his cock into your wet, hot mouth. “Such a fucking cockwhore, all it took was a single glance for you to lose your will.”

You whine against his dick, your jaw tight with the stretch, your tongue lapping so desperately around the cock that was no more than halfway in yet couldn’t go in any further.

“Suck me right, and I’ll reward you by fucking that pretty little pussy of yours,” Kirishima grunts, his fingers pressing into the side of your neck as he ruts his hips up into your mouth, shoving his cock even further into your mouth. “And don’t you dare look away from me while you suck me off.”

It feels like fire.

His cock driving down your throat hurts, the taste of his salty pre-cum slathering all over your tongue and dripping out of your mouth with the saliva you can’t control. His cock hits the back of your throat, and you continue to bob your head, continue to fuck him with your throat as animalistic, praiseworthy noises begin spilling from Kirishima’s mouth.

You whimper at the sight of his head dipping back, and you nearly whine when he shoves the fingers he had gathered your juices on into his mouth. He moans at the contact and with his pleasure with your actions so obvious as you choke against his girth. That was hot, holy fuck, you wanted him to fuck you, please fuck you.

Your eyes close as he begins to fuck faster into your mouth, his delight in hearing you choke around him his driving force. Tears start pouring from your eyes despite your best efforts, your throat and inner thighs burning with lust and need as Kirishima groans, his cock twitching deep in your throat.

Slap!

“Hey!”

Slap!

You gag harshly as your cheeks sting with his heavy slap, your teeth grazing underneath his cock, right against a thick, twisting vein.

“Did I tell you to close your eyes?” Kirishima practically growls, his hands grasping the back of your neck, the other one slapping you across the face yet again. “No. I said… fuck… I said, keep your eyes on me!”

Tears weep down your face, your eyes struggling to keep focus on him as he continued to fuck deep and intensely into your mouth, shoving himself further into you until you could feel his thighs grazing your chin. Oxygen wasn’t flowing anymore; your gags and chokes the only time the burning element could manage to flow through you, but Kirishima doesn’t seem to care. He seems to delight in the way you are, despite it all, are moaning and looking at him in a pleading way for more.

More, you plead.

And he delivers.

Kirishima pulls his still hard, not yet cummed, dick out of your mouth and stands.

You splutter with the sudden intake of oxygen to your lungs, burning you from the inside out as you splutter on the ground.

“W-What’s going on?” you hoarsely stammer, your jaw and throat aching from its prolonged abuse. “E-Ei?”

However, Kirishima seems dead set on getting you naked, and you squeal in flustered excitement as he rips the shirt off of you and his mouth pressing against yours again. His mouth crashes against yours, and you moan into his mouth immediately.

His tongue curls into your mouth and your tongues press and rub against each other. Each passing second growing more desperate, needier, more intense as your clothes are ripped one by one off your body.

“Holy fuck, I’ve wanted you for so long,” Kirishima nearly whines, his mouth trailing down your neck, biting and sucking against every centimeter of skin he passed. “Wanted to fuck you against the wall, in my bed, and now I get to do that.”

“Please, please, fuck me, please,” you beg, your voice bordering a wail as your arms wrap around his neck, letting him lift you up off the floor. Despite you being so much smaller than him that when he held you to him, your cunt wasn’t pressed to his angry leaking cock, you continued to desperately roll your hips against his abs, the friction welcomed and easing the building pressure. It was an action conveying just what you wanted. “I need you in me, Sergeant!”

“Just cuz… holy fuck,” Kirishima breathes ragged, his body twisting around, and you cried when the cold sheets pressed into your back. “Imma fuck you, Imma… god, just fucking watch.”

Your head thrashed back onto the pillow as Kirishima’s teeth sunk into your collarbone, then captured your sensitive nipples, his fingers dancing against your clit and teasing your center.

“Now!” you cry, fingers digging into his shoulder. “Put it in!”

This time, Kirishima didn’t need to be told twice.

His larger body was suddenly pressed entirely against yours, dwarfing you immediately as your arms wrapped around his back as his cock slammed into you. You screamed at the sudden intrusion, your pussy stretched beyond its typical limits by his girth, his size, his power.

Your cunt throbbed around him, your face buried within his pecs as you, despite the searing pain, shove your hips up towards him. Fucking into him, sucking him further into you.

“Holy shit,” Kirishima groans, “you’re amazing.”

“Talk less, fuck me more!” you screech, your body spasming, twitching so hard from the splitting pleasure and the lava pit in your stomach, and Kirishima does that exactly.

His hips begin to meet yours in equaled power, slamming into you so that the bed creaked beneath you. He fucked you until he had to hold a hand on your hip so you could stay there, and you kept a hand on the wall to continue to push yourself down onto his cock.

You screamed with pleasure, cried for more, Kirishima’s shark-like smirk getting bolder, darker, hotter with every slam of his hips until his tattooed right arm shot down. His hand wrapped around your throat, choking you.

“You’re so loud, princess,” Kirishima moans, clearly liking your loud noises, “but you’re going to wake everyone in Tokyo.”

His hand around your throat is enough to have your legs trembling around his waist, your choked and muffled moans and splutters drowning out even more as he pressed a kiss onto you. He kissed you, licking your mouth, and devouring your every word and thought. Your core twisted, tightened, and burned. It throbbed and clenched with it’s impending orgasm, and your body began to tense to the heavens as his cock throbbed deep within you.

“Who saved you?”

“E-Ei did,” you garble.

“Who’s fucking you?”

“E-Ei is!”

“Who’s going to fucking cum when I tell her to?”

“Me! Fuck, me!”

Kirishima laughs, his arms wrapping around your waist, and in one final, fleeting burst of strength, fucks into you with his own power, needs, and desire, and you can only take it. “Cum, princess,” he whispered almost sweetly against the top of your head, and it was all over. Your teeth sink into his chest as you scream, a blinding white light erupting through your vision as you cum around his cock.

Kirishima whimpers, his cock still pushing deep into your cunt, until you can feel the warm spill of his seed in your womb.

He collapses to the side of you, taking you with him so that you were resting on his sweaty chest.

“Holy shit,” Kirishima whispered after a bit, your body already warm and too lethargic to notice the star-like tone to his voice. “That was fucking… holy shit.”

“Does this mean you like me?” you half tease, half wonder.

There’s a pause, a silence, and you wonder if maybe he had fallen asleep.

But he didn’t.

“I’ve been in love with you for some time now, I think,” he admits, his hand beginning to rub small circles into your back.

You find that despite the exhaustion, warmth floods your cheeks.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I guess we’re going to have to discuss a more… permanent and maybe different contract tomorrow morning, huh?”

Kirishima chuckles, and you find yourself smiling into his chest.

“I think we do.”

#kirishima x reader #kirishima smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha

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thebreakfastgenie · 4 years ago

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I get on Josh/Donna shippers in the fandom a lot for writing fic set in the early seasons that’s too explicitly romantic. I mean mostly I complain about this in private to my friends, but I think I’m on the record saying they shouldn’t get together before season 4. But I do think the show got them together too late. In my view, there are two points where the story organically wanted them to get together and the writers averted it. I’m putting this under a cut because this Josh/Donna meta I’m writing in the year 2021 is unforgivably long.

The first one is in season 4, Inauguration. There’s definitely a shift in season 4, both before and after Inauguration, to showing their relationship as more explicitly romantic. There are moments in earlier seasons, like Joey Lucas telling Josh that Donna likes him, Josh joking about sabotaging Donna’s relationships, and Amy asking if they’re dating. But season 4 really treats Jack Reese as a romantic rival in a way their previous love interests weren’t. Josh goes around asking if he can pull of a military dress saber because he’s so jealous, and notably nobody really reacts to this, implying he’s been like this before, but as the audience we’re seeing this level of behavior for the first time. I think there’s also an extent to which Donna wanted him to react this way, considering the way she describes Jack’s dress uniform in detail. And we can’t forget that before all of this started Jack was willing to back off because he didn’t want to get in the middle of whatever he thought Josh and Donna had going on.

Then there’s Holy Night, where even Leo asks if he was being insensitive, which really requires watching the scene where he actually tells Josh that Donna left because it’s completely innocuous. The only reason Leo would think he was insensitive is if he thinks Josh is sensitive about Donna. Which he is. Leo then follows this by saying “oh, get it together, would you?” and Josh responds “I’m trying” which I think is the first clue we get that Josh is starting to figure out how he feels about Donna. I will expand on this more later.

Rather like with the dress uniform conversation later, there’s something going on from Donna’s side in Holy Night too. Donna is given the opportunity to slip out before Josh tells her he’s staying late to work, she’s even encouraged by coworkers, and she doesn’t do it. This could be because she’s dedicated to the job, which provides deniability, but it’s really not. She’s so genuine when she says getting drunk at the Hawk and Dove sounds fun. I think she’s waiting for Josh to say something. She wants him to say “yes, I wanted you to stay, I want to spend Christmas with you, I don’t want you to go to the Washington Inn with Jack because I want you to go with me.” But he doesn’t say any of that because he’s not there yet. We also notably don’t see Donna leave or even Leo telling her she can, so we don’t know how she really felt about it. My money is on happy but also slightly disappointed, but she can’t exactly tell Leo no I want to stay and wait for Josh to tell me he likes me, and even if she could at this point she wouldn’t.

Then you have Inauguration and the snowball scene which is so explicitly romantic that I really don’t have anything to say about it. I will say that later on at the end you see a line of people walking through the ballroom and it’s the President, the First Lady, senior staff, and Will. This is because Janel Moloney is a regular, but it’s also very much set up like Donna is Josh’s date. He brings her to see Will named deputy when literally no one else is there except that little senior staff and first couple group.

So the question is why, aside from the obvious Doylist reasons, don’t Josh and Donna get together after that? It’s a hard sell that they don’t, but there’s some room there because after the balls they have to go back to work, and I think it’s believable that with sending troops into Kundu and everything else that comes up with running the country in the following weeks, Josh and Donna don’t have the time or energy to address their relationship and just kind of slip back into the status quo. Still, it’s a little bit different, because they’re ready now, and I think that’s where you see continued development in the rest of the season, like Amy asking Donna if she’s in love with Josh. There’s a sense to which, after Inauguration, it’s more acknowledged, even if they still won’t say it.

The second time they should have gotten together is after Gaza. I’m also on the record as not a big fan of the Gaza arc, although I’ve softened on some parts of it since realizing that Colin makes me really uncomfortable and that’s a big part of why I don’t like watching it. Before I can talk about Gaza, I need to rewind to season 2.

I do think Donna knew she had feelings for Josh in season 1, whereas Josh had feelings for Donna very early on but didn’t realize it. But the beginning of season 2 is still a huge inflection point in their relationship. Donna is forced to confront exactly how much Josh means to her because she’s forced to face the possibility that he might die. This is explicit, with the positioning of the flashbacks. Donna has fourteen hours with absolutely nothing else to think about. Josh doesn’t go through this journey with her because he’s unconscious. This is one of the reasons the “I wouldn’t stop for red lights” line is so good and so true to them. I’m going to go on a tangent here because I don’t really want to make a separate meta post.

The whole Point of Josh and Donna is the lines they cross for each other. That’s their whole deal. And no episode really encapsulates this better than 17 People. They’re dancing right on that line the entire episode. They’re really over the line of a professional, employer/employee relationship the entire time, but most of it can be (with some effort, perhaps) played off as a friend relationship. Josh saying “if you were in an accident, I wouldn’t stop for a beer” is right on that line. He’s saying he cares about her, but it’s also kind of the bare minimum, but he’s also being compared favorably to her old boyfriend at the time. That in and of itself is a perfectly good ship moment, especially for so early on. And then Donna just bulldozes right over that line by saying “if you were in an accident I wouldn’t stop for red lights.” But she does it very matter-of-factly. It’s just the truth. And the difference is, Josh is speaking hypothetically. Donna isn’t. The only reason she hasn’t done this before is that she was already at the hospital when she found out he had been injured (which by the way was like eight months ago). Donna is speaking from experience.

So this is where we get to Gaza. Donna has been through this whole experience of almost losing him. When Donna is injured in Gaza it’s his turn to almost lose her, and he goes through more or less the same little journey. Gaza more than anything else is what equalizes them. And they absolutely know it. Neither one of them says it, but the body language and tone in the “I’m still here” scene serve as an acknowledgment. There’s just no way to go back after that. Obviously the writers tried to use Colin to complicate things, but really he’s not very successful at it. Donna still asks for Josh before surgery and his name is still the first thing she says when she wakes up. My personal opinion is that Josh and Donna falling out in season 6 happened because there was no other way to keep them apart after Germany. And I do think it would take a little while once they got back, Donna has to recover and Josh has a lot of guilt to process, but that’s still what should have done it. It was time. They were ready.

And yes, you can argue that Josh is very stupid, but I think after the experiences they’ve had, at that point Donna would be willing to initiate the conversation, and if confronted he would confess his feelings for her. That’s speculation but I’m right. They’re like three-quarters of the way to being in a relationship anyway.

I also have some Opinions about how they finally got together but that I will save for another post. This one is about how Josh/Donna are a great example of TV writers following conventional wisdom instead of letting the story and characters do what they organically needed to do.

#the west wing #josh/donna #yes it's 2021 but i need to type this out so it would stop living in my head every time i take a shower

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iwillhaveamoonbase · 4 years ago

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Replay ch. 3

Chapter is rated M

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Rayla got up at seven, eyes heavy from the lack of sleep last night. “Noooo. UGH.” She turned to angrily glare at her alarm that had interrupted her rain noises. Aberdeen wasn’t the rainiest place in the world, but the sound of a rain storm always helped put her to sleep. Her mum and da always joked she was named ‘Rayla’ because she was born right when the moon shone through a stormy night.

Rayla went through her emails quickly, making a note in her phone to call both sets of her parents this weekend. She missed the days in Scotland when Runaan would speak French with her and talk cheese or helping Ethari in his jewelry business. Runaan ran the books while Ethari ran the artistic side, his work with metal and jewel placement both tasteful and modern while taking classic elements from Celtic art.

Her parents had yet to retire from being bodyguards, but they regaled her with stories of Africa and Asia and Australia, how kind people were, the different foods and cultures. Sometimes, she wished she could have grown up going with them. Other times, she knew they had made the right choice leaving her with Runaan and Ethari. They wouldn’t have had much time for her anyways.

Sighing, she rolled out of bed. She had a breakfast date with Corvus before she had to be at the office. God. She hated those pricks sometimes; a lot of old money lived in that office. She had thought she was leaving classism behind when she did her study abroad in the States for her law degree. Apparently, America just hid their classism really well instead of openly displaying it like they did back in the UK.

She lived well, was paid well, did better than anyone had expected her to do, probably. She had been more focused on athletics as a kid, leading Runaan to force her into ballet (‘you already know some French. It’s perfect!’), Ethari insisting on Irish step dance (‘Lain’s mother was Irish. It’s a world wide sensation, Rayla!’), and her own parents signing her up for kickboxing when she was in high school during their vacation from work. Her teachers had been frustrated that she was smart but didn’t ‘apply herself’ whatever that meant. She got good grades, did better in college, got into law school in another country, and passed the bar. She could apply herself just fine. She just liked to be active.

Rayla sighed as she stepped into the hot water of her shower. She had made a good choice buying this shower head. Slowly, she felt the burn that had started last night begin to build back up again. Green eyes entered her mind again, as well as a voice that she would love to hear calling her name out while she rode him. ‘Calm down, Rayla.’ She couldn’t meet Corvus horny. Rayla sighed, putting her forehead against the shower wall before starting to massage her breast. She tried to imagine it was Callum’s hand stroking her, dipping down to touch between her thighs where she ached.

Would his hands be soft or rough? There hadn’t been any obvious calluses when she had shaken his hand at the cheese shop. She moaned, dipping her fingers into her wet heat. Her thighs rubbed together as she tried to chase that elusive release. She didn’t have time for this. The more she tried to speed up, the more it just wasn’t happening. Growling in frustration, she tried to play with her clit, breathing deeply as she finally found a rhythm that was working. Rayla bit her bottom lip and sighed as she came, inwardly crowing with satisfaction. There was no worse start to a day than being unable to cum after a wet dream or being too horny to function.

She washed and dried off, stretching her muscles before dressing. The green pantsuit and black top showed off her toned figure without drawing too much attention to any one place. Her heels made her even taller and, hopefully, a little intimidating to jerky clients or coworkers. She grabbed her purse and went out the door. When she finally made it to her car, she leaned her head on the steering wheel. Had she really started her day off by masturbating to a guy she met YESERDAY?

She shook her head, driving off until she made it to the little café she and Corvus frequented. Corvus also worked in the same building, but for a different law office, specifically divorce. Rayla had no idea how he did it, but someone had to. She saw Corvus at their usual table, smiling at something on his phone. “Your boyfriend sent you a naughty text?”

Corvus smirked back up at her. “Nope. Just something about one of my latest clients. Well, their soon-to-be-ex.”

“Good news or bad news?”

“Well, considering it’s a custody case, it’s good for my client.”

“Abuse?” Rayla frowned.

“I would not be smirking if that was the case. No. Apparently, the ex has been mismanaging the children’s money. Lying about putting it in a back account for them and spending it on gambling debts.”

“You don’t call that abuse?” Rayla smiled up at the waiter who came over, ordering an earl grey, a coffee to go, and an omelet.

“Thank you,” Corvus nodded to the waiter. “I do, personally, but everyone views that differently. The children were never struck, no record of emotional, mental, or oral abuse. It seemed like it was going to go 50-50 custody, which tends to be the ideal situation, but my client was concerned about the gambling problem.”

“So best case scenario, gambler’s anonymous and supervised visits eventually leading to 50-50 custody?”

“Best case scenario. Probably won’t happen, but we can all hope.”

Rayla shook her head. “I don’t know how you do it. I didn’t do criminal law or divorce law because I wasn’t sure I could handle seeing evidence of child abuse all day.”

“It’s a lot. We try to spread those cases around as much as we can, because it gets to be too much when it’s all you see. When police reports come into play, it’s even worse.” Rayla nodded. “While you work for old money. Tell me, how’s Kasef doing?”

“Hitting on me, again. Got upset when I told him off for glaring at a guy in a cheese shop for asking me a question.”

“He comes down to our office on his breaks and hits on half the women there.”

“Believe me, I know. His father gets really upset about it.”

“How is Mr. Ahling?”

“Still insisting we call him ‘Mr. Ahling’ and not the proper ‘Mr. Patel.’ His health is starting to go downhill, so we’re hoping his daughter graduates soon and can start to learn how to take over the office.”

Corvus shook his head, smiling at the waiter with her when they brought their food. “Thank you. I’m telling you, join our office. You could be really good at gathering information.”

“Thank you, but, no thanks. I grew up believing in true love with both sets of my parents. I’d like to continue believing in it.”

“You still believe in love. I love my boyfriend so much we’re moving in together.”

“Well, congratulations to you both. You moving in to his apartment or is he moving into your’s?”

“Mine’s bigger and closer to both our jobs.”

They talked work for a few more minutes, keeping an eye on the time. Rayla sighed as she looked at Corvus. “I’ve got a favor to ask.”

“My hairdresser would love to do your hair. Those layers are cute, but maybe you need a new look.”

“Ha ha. My hair’s fine, thanks. You remember me mentioning a guy in the cheese shop?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, he asked to draw me. He said it’s cool that I brought a friend and I would like to bring you. I don’t really have any other friends in the city.” She finished her tea, opening the lid of her coffee to put some cream in.

“He seem legit?”

“I saw his art. He also runs a YouTube channel with his friends and little brother?”

“What’s his name?”

“Callum Evans.”

“Katolis Squad!” Corvus smiled, clapping his hands together.

“You know them?”

“Of course. They do a lot of food stuff. I found this café because of one of their videos. Also, my boyfriend’s a baker, remember? Ezran and Claudia do a series on baking and sweets and he likes to watch them. Callum Evans is also kind of known in the art scene in town and I’ve met his aunt a few times. Lovely lady, so’s her wife.”

“Huh. Apparently, I’m out of it.”

“You just arrived in Katolis last year. I grew up here. You remember my boyfriend’s beignets you liked so much?”

“Those were delicious.”

“Ezran’s recipe. His grandmother’s friend was from Louisiana and she taught him how to make them like it’s done in the French-Quarter.”

“Huh. So, you’ll come with me?”

“Sure. Callum Evans seems harmless, but since he already approved it, might as well take advantage.”

“Agreed. I can take care of myself, but, you never know.”

“Where’s it going to be?”

“At his house. He said he has an art studio there. At least, that’s what he implied. I’m waiting for a text from him to iron out the details.”

“Maybe he’ll ask to draw you nude?” Rayla flushed red at that, looking down at her almost finished breakfast. “Oh? Something you want to share with the class? A reason you were distracted during kickboxing last night, perhaps?”

Rayla glared up at him, taking a few harsh bites of her omelet. She swallowed, keeping eye contact with him. “He’s cute, I’m single, that’s it.”

“He’s single.” Rayla paused. “He broke-up with his last girlfriend months ago. She made a big Instagram post about it, saying they wanted to focus on their careers. Which was weird because no one even knew they were in a relationship.”

“So, he’s probably used to people trying to use him for fame.”

“Most likely. He keeps to himself.”

“I saw that when I went digging online. His step-father’s the governor and his mother was in the military for a few years, rising through the ranks very quickly.”

“Yeah. They try to keep their channel separate from all that, though. People are always asking them questions about it and they’ll either ignore it or say they aren’t a mouthpiece for Harrow Williams.”

“Fair. I’ll text you the details. I’ve got my coffee, gotta go.” Rayla put a $20 on the table and waved good-bye to Corvus, leaving to head to the office. Well, this just got even more interesting, didn’t it?

---------------------------------------------

Callum rubbed his eyes as he looked up at the ceiling. All night, he had dreamed of Rayla. Her white hair down and around bare shoulders, purple eyes starting deep into his. ‘Come on, Callum. Make me feel good.’ He tossed and turned in his bed, suddenly thankful for the fact he lived alone. His cock was at attention and it was not going to be going down any time soon. Rolling out of bed, he took his sleep clothes off as he made his was to his shower. He winced at the cold water, but sighing in relief as his erection went down. He had no time to rub one out. He was already running late for his meeting with Ezran, Soren, and Claudia. They had to go over whether or not to actually hire a crew now that their channel had six million subscribers.

It would be a smart move. Claudia’s home-made beauty series was getting a lot of attention, as were her and Ez’s baking series. Soren and Ezran’s sub channel and Twitch channel was getting a lot of attention in the video game community for their let’s plays and commentary. Even Callum’s art sub channel was getting more and more attention. He was just worried about going bigger because, if they did, what if drama followed? It had been a PR nightmare when his ex-girlfriend had posted on Instagram about going their separate ways for their careers. Callum had asked her to keep it between them because he wanted to keep his personal life and his YouTube life separate. She had apparently felt that, after they broke-up, what he wanted didn’t matter.

As he quickly ate breakfast, he couldn’t get the idea of Rayla from his dreams or of her in a forest out of his head. Those eyes haunted his every though. ‘She’s a freaking fae. That must be it.’ Callum rubbed his eyes again, sighing. He sent a quick text to Rayla asking if she would be alright with her modeling for him in the woods outside of town. She would probably say ‘no’, but Callum needed to get this image out of his head and out of his system. He had just met her and she was distracting him already. Still, Callum wasn’t so sure he could ever get someone like her out of his system. Even if they had sex a week straight, he would probably still crave her. ‘Stop getting ahead of yourself, Callum. She’s probably in a relationship, you just want to draw her, and you have other things to focus on right now.’

All day, as the group discussed the benefits to do YouTube full-time, barring Ezran because he was still in college, a Scottish accent and a pair of soft eyes stayed in the back of his mind. Beckoning him to find her and take her under a waterfall in the forest. Would she scratch and like it rough or did she like to go soft and slow, like a wave?

Ezran snapped his fingers in his face. “Callum, focus.”

“Right. So, I think taking a step forward is a good idea….” He didn’t have time to be thinking about faeries in suits from Scotland.

#rayllum #rayllum fanfic #tdp #the dragon prince #au #replay #moonbase fanfics

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yurureri-yurari · 3 years ago

Text

crimson deliverance

✬ NSFW ✩ Psycho-Pass AU

Premise: Years of perseverance are finally rewarding them. Not before an unforeseen trial of their making, however.

— ✾ —

When Itori said they would have a new member to the team, no one expected it to be the fugitive ex-inspector last sighted a few years ago. Apparently, the sudden vacation she had taken some time ago was to track her down, managing to find her in Tibet and convincing her to return to the country.

“... Is there anything you have to say to me, Yasushi-san?” were Ayame’s first words to him, once they had been left alone together in the meeting room by their teammates. Before that, she had formally apologized to him for any grievances she caused him in the past years.

There were a lot of things he had to say to her. Most of them being things he already knew the answer to.

What happened to you after the Shambala Float incident?

Have you met with Arima yet?

Are you still going to pretend to be who you’re not anymore?

Instead, all he could manage to say was, “Welcome back, Ayame,” and promptly left after she responded with a nod:

“I’m back.”

The days that followed this were almost as usual, slowly providing him answers to his unspoken questions.

Following the Shambala Float incident, Ayame had continued to wander in the Southeast Asian Union. As mentioned, Itori brought her back from Tibet, after dealing with a mercenary group. Since her return to Japan to the present, she hadn’t paid a visit to Arima, who undoubtedly didn’t know she was back.

As coworkers in the same team, they saw each other at work daily. It was reminiscent of the old days when she was a rookie officer, if excluding that Ayame was more honest with her emotions. There was difficulty interacting with each other—the air between them always seemed to dampen with awkwardness. It was subtle when around others, but when it was only the two of them, anyone could tell that there was clearly something that happened between them that needed a conclusion to.

— ✾ —

“You think they did it?” Itori asked Seishi while they were on break.

“Maybe,” he responded, taking a drink of his canned coffee. “I don’t think they’d be awkward like this though.”

They were watching Ayame and Mamoru doing work together in the office from Itori’s own.

Itori, likewise, drank from her own can. “Hmm. Yeah, it has been, uh... how many years again?”

“Eight,” Seishi reminded her.

“Eight years... They’re definitely a keeper for each other,” she nodded to herself. “If it were me, I would have moved on already.”

“Even if that person was Uta?” he challenged her.

In reply, she briefly shot him a glare before he diverted her attention.

“Hey, he’s leaning in.”

“And then their eyes are going to meet and on noticing how close they are...”

“He pulls away.”

“Awkward silence.” Itori imitated Ayame’s voice. “Thank you for the help.”

Seishi, in turn, did the same, but with Mamoru: “It’s no problem.”

“And finally, the awkward departure.”

The boss relaxed back into her chair as her subordinate sighed, her index finger tapping on the armrest as she was in thought. She looked at the case file on her desk.

There had been reports of immigrant children going missing and as the proactive branch of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, it was their case to solve instead of the Ministry of Welfare’s. Two victims had been recovered, both found dead with various injuries. The suspect was a painter named Sakuragi Haruto, who was name-dropped by an accomplice before going mad and being eliminated. Ominous rumors surrounded Sakuragi, a particular one being that his inspiration for each of his paintings came from models in unethical conditions made by him.

The main objective at hand currently, was to find out where Sakuragi’s studio was. The address listed on his website was but a location used for meetings rather than creating his art pieces. Normally, such a thing would have already been acquired through methods of tracking, but their target was suspiciously evasive. Therefore, a different approach would be taken: the date of a banquet held between the wealthy was drawing close and Sakuragi was on the guest list.

Itori planned to send in two of her subordinates to undercover there and make contact with him. Apparently, Sakuragi had quite the connections when it came to the rich, which was odd in that these connections didn’t seem to be used for gaining influence. When they interviewed one of these connections, they mentioned that Sakuragi provided them a place to “unwind,” but where that was, they would not say. Finding out what this place was, was the goal of the mission.

Itori’s lips curled into a sly smile. “Maybe I should give them some time outside of the office together.”

— ✾ —

Silence filled the car as Mamoru drove to the hotel they were staying at for the night for their mission. Ayame was looking through their intel on a tablet at his side. As he watched the road, he thought of how their assignment happened.

“Me and... Ayame?” Mamoru looked at Itori, perplexed.

Ayame appeared as usual in comparison.

“Is there a problem with that, Mamoru-kun?” their boss questioned. “I thought it would be best for you to be Ayame-chan’s partner for this mission since I heard you were one of her closest relationships back in her MWPSB days.”

“No... there isn’t,” he refuted with uncertainty.

Itori hummed curiously at him before looking at Ayame. “What about you, Ayame-chan?”

“I have no qualms,” she answered flatly.

“Then all is well,” the redhead smiled with content.

Being reminded of that smile was bothering him. Clearly, something was up and he already knew what.

“Can you truly do this?” Ayame’s voice snapped Mamoru out of his thoughts.

“Of course; why do you ask?” he returned a question.

She turned the tablet off. “... There are some...” her hands rested in her lap together, “... unresolved matters between us that could hinder your performance, after all.”

He was nearly caught off-guard by this. It would be apparent they had the same idea of clearing up said matters with this chance of being alone with one another.

“Then should we resolve those before the party?” he asked.

She oddly paused before answering, turning her gaze to the passenger window. “... Maybe another time.”

Mamoru wondered what she paused for when two things hit him. The first was that his choice of words could imply continuing where they had been interrupted that night, which he internally face-palmed himself for. The second was that Ayame was embarrassed in some amount. He wished he could have caught the slightest glimpse of that.

“In conversation, I mean,” he clarified quickly in a fluster.

“If we have the time,” Ayame responded. “If not, then after the party. I’ll trust that you’ll do well in that case.”

“Agreed,” he stated.

Conversation promptly disappeared with that as she let him focus on driving.

Though they hoped their time for resolution would be before the party, it ended up having to be after as they busied themselves with their prep work.

— ✾ —

Ayame came out of the bathroom earlier than he thought she would. “Yasushi-san?” she called. “Can I ask you to help with my zipper?”

He looked up from the tablet, seeing her in a black dress that left everything above her chest and biceps exposed. Her hand was over her chest to keep the top from protruding outward. Mamoru stared at her for a moment before giving a response, realizing he was holding his breath. “Sure.”

She turned around as he walked over to her. He took the zipper of her dress and slowly drew it upwards. This was dangerous, he thought; standing close to her with her skin exposed was causing him to have unwanted thoughts.

When he was done, she turned back to him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied.

They stared at each other for a moment in the almost-suffocating close proximity they were in, as though waiting for the other to say something.

“... You look great,” Mamoru nearly coughed that out.

Ayame nodded. “Itori-san chose it for me.”

He would keep that in mind as more evidence to point toward their boss’ personal motive in this mission.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Yes; and you?” she returned the question, slipping on one of the ring bands they were provided for their mission on her left ring finger.

He already had his on after a moment of thought while she was getting ready in the washroom. “Yeah,” he answered.

They headed out of their room together for the banquet hall. When arriving at the entrance, they positioned themselves as the other couples did; the lady’s hand around the gentleman’s held-out arm.

For the first few conversations, they were together, making mention of their target Sakuragi Haruto here and there to gather more information. The way that Ayame acted was starkly different from her real persona, reminding Mamoru of their days together as inspector and enforcer. Seeing this difference side-by-side only showed him how much work she had put into attempting to be “normal.”

Eventually, they split up, keeping in contact with each other through their earpieces. Not much side-progress was being made with collecting more information and a chance of approaching Sakuragi, who they had spotted while they were together, didn’t seem to be anytime soon. That is, until...

“Excuse me, Miss?” Mamoru heard their target’s voice in his earpiece as he walked around the hall.

... he approached one of them himself.

“Yes?” Ayame replied.

Mamoru scanned the crowds for her figure.

“I’m Sakuragi Haruto, a painter. I wanted to ask if you were interested in modeling for me.”

“I’m honored, but why me?”

“You’ve caught my interest, is all.”

The pace he walked quickened.

She made a small laugh. “My husband might not be pleased to hear that.”

“I can promise it won’t be anything for him to be worried about; I only paint the true desire of an individual.”

“’True desire...’ Are you implying you learned what my ‘true desire’ is with one look?”

“No, but I have intuition that yours will be worth painting.”

Finally, he spotted Ayame, swiftly entering their conversation at her side. His arm was around her, resting on her bare shoulder.

Making a convincing, but forced, friendly smile, he asked Sakuragi, “Do you have business with my wife?” There was something subtle that could be described as threatening in his smile, which he didn’t seem to notice himself.

“Speak of the devil.” Their target was either unfazed by this or didn’t notice as he held a polite smile on his face. “What a lucky man to have such a lovely wife.”

Ayame made a small bow. “Yes; thank you.” She turned to Mamoru. “Sakuragi-san and I were just discussing his work.”

“Is that so?” he replied.

“He asked me if I could model for him. Would you mind that, dear?” she questioned.

“I would very much,” is what he would have said without any restraints, but instead his words were, “As long as it’s a private work and we’re given a copy of the finished product.”

“I suppose you were right, Sakuragi-san,” she turned her smile back to said person.

“I’m pleased,” Sakuragi expressed. He reached into his inner pocket and handed Ayame his business card. “You can set up an appointment with me at any time...?”

“Washuu Sayuri,” she answered.

The painter looked at Mamoru next, prompting him to follow with, “Washuu Aru.”

“Sayuri-san. Aru-san. It was nice meeting the two of you.” Sakuragi bowed politely. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Once he had disappeared within the crowd, Mamoru almost awkwardly removed his hand from her shoulder. “Sorry.”

She shook her head, her demeanor returning to its usual as though swiftly switching masks. “It’s fine.”

They headed for a quiet spot to discuss their next moves. As he thought about the current state of things, his actions while undercover poked at him while they walked. On the other hand, Ayame was examining Sakuragi’s business card before looking in front of her.

“This isn’t the way I’d think this was going to go down,” he remarked quietly so bystanders wouldn’t hear.

“It’s a dangerous method, but there’s no other choice,” she replied. “It was the least we could accomplish.”

“I don’t like the idea of putting you in danger, but that unfortunately doesn’t change that you’re right,” he begrudgingly said. “We should stay here for a little longer before leaving.”

She nodded in agreement.

The two remained where they were in silence, appearing more as two bystanders now rather than a couple. If they could, they would have left the hall as soon as they finished their mission. The chatter of the people they masked themselves as were unintelligible from their spot, but they had no need to hear any of it anymore.

— ✾ —

After their leave from the banquet, they returned to their hotel room. They were to report back the morning after, the lenient Itori having told them to enjoy the luxury of pretending to be wealthy before they departed for their mission as a bonus. Both discussed who was sleeping where before one was off to wash up first, which ended with one round of rock-paper-scissors. Ayame had won, therefore, she was taking the bed and Mamoru, the sofa.

Mamoru walked out of the bathroom, dressed for bed and fresh out of the shower. The first thing he looked to was Ayame, who was sitting on the end of the bed with the laptop he had used earlier to type up their mission report while it was her turn in the shower. She seemed to be reading the report, checking if he had omitted any details.

He sat down next to her, leaving a gap of space between them. She briefly looked up at him, closing the laptop and setting it on the dresser across from them before returning to her spot.

“Where shall we start?” Ayame opened the conversation.

Mamoru decided to begin from the last time he saw her prior to her addition to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. “What happened to you after Shambala Float? Arima said you got away after you two took care of the leader of those mercenaries.”

“I went back to the guerrilla base.”

“I suppose you left there at some point and traveled around, since Itori found you in Tibet rather than Cambodia.”

She nodded.

“Have you met Arima at all since you came back?”

“Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t have anything to say to him and... I don’t know if he wants to see me. He didn’t say anything to me after we fought together in Shambala.”

They shared a small silence at that before Mamoru spoke up.

“Well... I’m not Arima, but if Seishi was on the run for almost ten years and came back, I’d hope he’d come to see me no matter how mad I might be at what he did,” he said. “... It’s better to see him than not at all.”

Ayame nodded again, understanding what he meant. “I’ll think it through again sometime.”

Another silence approached them, this time lasting longer than the first. This was undoubtedly because only the source of their awkwardness outside of work was what remained to be spoken of. It was one of those events where they thought it’d be the last time they’d see each other, but their unexpected reunion a few months ago as fellow agents of Itori’s team would say otherwise, turning what was an interrupted tender moment into something to be flustered about.

Ayame was the one to initiate it in the end.

“That night in Shambala... if the base hadn’t been attacked...” she trailed off.

“I would have kissed you,” Mamoru finished her sentence rather blatantly, although with a trace of a blush. “Would you have let me?”

He already knew the answer to his question—or more, he thought it was most likely. While his confidence in this was firm, there was still that small part of him that hoped he was right.

She was quiet, and almost painstakingly so before responding.

“After I killed Nimura and fled the country,” she began, “I thought I would be fine in never seeing anyone again. Everyone appeared in my thoughts as I traveled at least once. Eto-san, Tenshi-san, Kirishima-san, Hirako-san... I thought the ones who I would most think of was Kishou-oniisan and my parents, but... it was you.” For second, her tone sounded childishly annoyed in the slightest. “You were persistent. There almost wasn’t a day I thought of you. My chest sometimes hurt even though I wasn’t injured as well.

“I didn’t understand why for a long time.” Her eyes softened in sorrow. “... I didn’t want to. It would have broken the lie I began living in when I left.”

“And you’ve left that lie behind,” Mamoru said.

Ayame nodded. “That’s why I can say this without restraint.”

She paused for a moment before giving him her words.

“... I like you, Yasushi-san.”

Mamoru was stunned at her confession, perhaps even more so at the sight of the shyness visible on her face.

“... I like you too,” he responded to her.

“And... I missed you,” she added.

His voice softened. “I missed you too.”

They stared at each other for a moment. They didn’t know who was first, but they both leaned into each other, their fingers that were only inches away making contact as they pressed into the bed.

He pulled away after long enough, staring into her similar crimson eyes again when she opened them. They exchanged another moment of silent gazes before eight years worth of restraint by interruptions, hindrances, and themselves accumulated into another kiss that was deeper than the first. Their breaths mingled with one another, growing shorter the longer their tongues intertwined.

Pulling away, they panted as they caught their breaths.

“Are we...?” Ayame asked.

“If you want to,” Mamoru answered. Though, he honestly wasn’t sure how much self-control he would have if she postponed this for another time. Not that he even knows how much he has right now.

She was quiet for a moment, averting her eyes from him. The room was dimly lit, but he could sense that she was flustered. “... I don’t mind, but... I don’t know how to do this.”

“I think I have a decent grasp of it, but... we’ll both figure things out along the way,” he admitted with embarrassed honesty.

“I’m your first?” she inquired, meeting his eyes again.

He gave her a shy response. “... Yeah. Surprised?”

“A little,” Ayame said. The corners of her lips seemed to curl subtly at this new intel.

As though in retaliation for her unintended teasing, he took her by surprise by pushing her down on the bed without too much force and hovered over her.

Mamoru stared into her crimson eyes. “I... don’t know if I can make any promises tonight.”

She nodded and reached for his cheeks with both hands, her fingers brushing his skin. “I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t regret this later,” he told her, his voice lowering into a murmur as he drew down to her.

Her fingers slid into his damp white hair and she gave a small smile of assurance before their lips met and parted for a third kiss.

It was less clumsier than the previous, but the sensuality from it that stoked the heated emotions in them that had been dormant until now was all the same. Before they could be sent into a state of breathlessness again, Mamoru broke away from Ayame, planting kisses from her jawline to the curvature of her neck. Her breaths were slightly strained from both their kiss and the sensation of his lips brushing her skin.

The stimulation must be foreign to her, he thought, which prompted him to wonder what was going on in her own mind in the moment.

While his mouth nipped and sucked at her neck, his hand ran up her curled leg and positioned at the spot between both. He didn’t take his time—slipping under her undergarment to directly feel her warm slickness.

Thinking about how they were interrupted back then gave him a sense of rush that he did his best to restrain.

Her legs twitched inward at his touch, her breath hitching. He stopped marking her skin temporarily to study her red face for reactions while catching his breath as he experimented where to touch her best before going any further.

“W-What is it?” Ayame questioned, her embarrassment increasing at the notice of his observation.

His self-restraint possibly loosened just then. “It’s nothing.”

This was the most expressive he had ever seen of her, and knowing he was the first to do so brought him a sense of pride.

“Please don’t look—” She was momentarily interrupted with suppressing a voice as he touched a spot. He found it. “—at me.”

“But you’re too cute,” he mumbled, mostly to himself, as he returned to marking his territory on her, continuing where he left off, but retracing his path to behind her ear.

Before she could give a reply, his finger made their entrance in her and another one followed soon enough. They were in and out at a soft pace, particularly teasing a spot from within that would certainly test her limit here and there after finding it in another search. Her hands clenched his shoulders as she seemed to be having an increasingly difficult time keeping hold of her noises. He slowed his motions eventually, allowing her breathing to steady.

Mamoru removed his soaked fingers from her. He stripped her of her pants and underwear. When he began unbuttoning her top, she stopped him, rising up.

“I can do the rest,” Ayame told him, cheeks still tinted. “You… probably don’t know how to undo this part.” Her fingers pointed to her bra.

“Y-Yeah,” he stuttered. “You should.”

While she did so, he took off his own clothing, feeling less heated without them. He briefly left the bed to grab the small packages that were in a pocket of the bag carrying their equipment for the mission, begrudgingly thanking his boss in his mind. Thankfully, he was the one who did the check with their equipment while preparing for their mission earlier.

Returning to her, he found himself in mesmerization at her timid beauty in the dim lighting that only accentuated her figure.

“… You’re looking,” she called him out.

He gave her an amused, small smirk taking her lips once more. “How can I not?”

He guided her back down on the bed, deciding to move on to the next step when he drew away.

“Are you ready?” he asked for consent after his preparation.

Ayame nodded.

After her confirmation, he pressed his member against her folds, lubricating himself with her fluids slowly out of anxiousness. When he entered her, he found himself almost holding his breath, feeling her contract around him as he reached further and further until there was no more depth to cover.

“Sorry; does it hurt?” Mamoru worriedly asked upon noticing how hard she was clenching the bedsheet and the slight scrunch of her face. He caressed her cheek in comfort, moving strands of her hair away from her face.

“A bit,” she managed to say in an almost-strangled voice.

“We can stop if you want.” Even if he wanted to settle this now, it was more important to him that she was comfortable.

Ayame shook her head. “No... I’ll be fine... I... want this, so...”

His eyes briefly widened in surprise at her bold statement before he ducked his burning face into the crook of her neck. “... Really, you...” Once he regained what little composure he had, he told her, “Tell me when you’re good for me to move,” before sealing her lips with his own.

After creating more blemishes on her skin where he hadn’t, he drew down to her breasts, taking one nub into his mouth and easing her tenseness. He could tell her pain was progressively subsiding as he felt her relax around him.

“Y-You can move now...” Ayame gave her approval soon enough.

Mamoru gave a hum of confirmation.

Though he started off slow for her, even having been stagnant for those few minutes earlier with her tensing had worked him up well enough that he was already feeling on edge with his release. Meanwhile, she was at her ends with the constraint of her voice, actively restraining it by pressing her knuckles against her lips. The current pace was only prolonging him torturously and eventually, he lost his grip on himself. Along with the little self-restraint he had left.

He quietly cursed, removing himself from her to change condoms.

“Ayame,” Mamoru called for her when he was done.

She looked up at him, still catching her breath. “?—”

In that moment, he re-entered her without warning. Her voice came out as he pinned the wrist of the hand she was going to clamp over her mouth to the bed at the same time.

“Sorry,” he apologized, half-heartedly. “I wanted to hear you just once.” And naturally, he wanted to hear more now as he kept hold of her wrist.

“Liar…” she took notice of his lie as he began moving for the second cour after also restraining her other hand.

Like before, Mamoru started off slow, but he was less inclined to keep that pace for any longer than a few minutes before gradually picking it up. The sound of Ayame’s voice mixed with her panting fueled him, as did her eagerness to welcome his progressively deep thrusts.

The closer she seemed to draw to her limit, the more her legs closed on him and shortly, she made a choked cry. She tensed up for a few moments, her lower half twitching a few times before relaxing. Her chest rose and fell as she attempted to catch her breath. Though he hadn’t had his own release, he removed himself from her.

“… Sorry...” she managed to say in her panting.

“Eh?” Mamoru blurted out in response.

Ayame covered her burning face with a hand. “I couldn’t… hold back…”

His surprise relaxed into a reassuring smile, having thought she was apologizing for something else. “It’s fine.”

“Are you stopping?” she asked.

“If you want me to,” he answered.

“I don’t mind…” she followed.

“Then…” Mamoru’s face lowered between her legs.

“What are you…?”

“I’m just a little curious is all.”

His lips brushed against her thigh, adding more traces of him to her skin. He hadn’t been counting how much he was leaving behind nor was he thinking about the potential repercussions in the morning—the only thing his thoughts were filled with, was that Ayame had returned to his daily life and that he wouldn’t let her leave again.

Her legs closed on his head as his tongue found her folds. She clamped a hand over her mouth, her expression contorted as she restrained her voice. Though he preferred to hear her in full, her muffled sounds that leaked out at times were still pleasing to his ears.

When she came undone with her back arching, he didn’t stop in his musings, drinking everything she released and teasing out more of it from her until she was breathing in slowly and heavily again.

There was no talking this time as Mamoru took Ayame’s lips with need, the bud of his arousal pressed against her entrance. She made a gasp into his mouth as he pushed into her, her nails dragging across the back of his shoulders. He hooked his arms under her legs to keep them spread, mercilessly starting right off the bat in a rough and fast pace that wouldn’t allow her to think.

“Yasu… shi… san…” she panted.

“That’s wrong… isn’t it?” he asked in-between his own breaths.

It took her a moment to correct herself, as though she was still in unnecessary gripe. “Ma… Mamoru…”

“Until you’re used to it… keep saying it…”

He leaned into where her neck curved, hearing his name in her voice directly in his ear in repeat. His thrusts grew deeper as she spoke, crashing into her deepest regions. And until their knots unravelled, he didn’t stop.

— ✾ —

After their intimate time together, they had taken another shower, albeit together shyly. It was only in the bright light of the bathroom did Mamoru see just how much he marked and bit her. Ayame didn’t seem to notice how odd it was that most of it was above her chest and biceps, which he was thankful for. In comparison, he only had several red lines across his shoulder blades. Both apologized for their thoughtless actions.

The morning after and the ride back to the office was without a hitch. At least, until they had to report to Itori and Mamoru was left alone with their boss.

“Did you like it?” innocently smiled Itori, fiddling with a pen.

“Like what?” Mamoru questioned, knowing exactly what she was referring to.

“You know what,” she continued to smile.

“That has nothing to do with the mission.” He rose from his seat and started toward the door. “If that’s all you wanted me for, then I’m leaving.”

“You also used them all.”

His hand froze on the doorknob and he felt blood rush to his face at that.

Seeing he wasn’t going to amuse her more, she pouted. “Boo; you’re not enough fun. Well, tell Ayame-chan I said congratulations.”

Mamoru still didn’t utter a word, exiting Itori’s office as casually as he could.

He let out an exasperated sigh, heading for the balcony for a smoke break. There, he found Ayame. The sight of her overlooking the city was incredibly nostalgic. He remembered how after she became a fugitive, a small part of him would hopelessly think she would still be there on the MWPSB balcony whenever he came up there before he was scouted out for his current position.

Ayame turned to him at the sound of the door closing.

“Are you done with your report to Itori-san?” she asked.

“Yeah; it wasn’t anything important,” he answered.

“I see,” she said.

“What are you doing here?”

“I had something to ask you and thought you’d be here.”

“What is it, Ayame?”

“Why didn’t you forget about me? I’m asking out of curiosity.”

He paused as he was taking out a cigarette from its box, putting it back in and the box in his pocket. “It’s not easy to forget a coworker you work closely with. Especially one who treated you kindly, even if it might have been an act at first. I’ll be honest that I thought about it once or twice. It bothered me too much that someone who was supposedly emotionless as you let me live despite getting in your way during the confrontation with Nimura at the factory though.”

“You would have been better off if you did.” She turned her back on him to look at the ground far below them and the far away people and objects.

Ignoring his hesitance and valuing its proof, Mamoru embraced her from behind.

“No,” he quietly denied. “You came back after all, so it was worth it. Even if it took more years, as long as you did, I’d still think the same.”

He felt her cling onto his sleeve.

“I see,” Ayame said. “Thank you, Mamoru.”

He hummed in confirmation. “Let’s make up for all those years we lost.”

She faced him, tears of happiness in her eyes. “Yes.”

Mamoru kissed the corner of Ayame’s eyes before her lips, the soft gesture as though a vow made to his proposal.

#anghoul [himura ayame]#history’s eyes [original characters]#swaying and being swayed [stories]

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axwalker · 5 years ago

Text

Tears in Heaven 2: Falling

Synopsis: Alexis O’Brien is about to get married but memories of her old life are coming back to haunt her.

MASTERLIST

Pairings: Liam x MC Drake x MC (TRR)

Warnings:

NO ONE UNDER 18 should read this story. This is an 18+ blog. This story will deal with very dark subjects such as death, severe depression and suicide attempt (among others) if you’re triggered by any of those issues, PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS STORY

A/N: The story will go back and forth between three different periods of time (2009 / 2015 / 2019)

A/N: In most European countries the legal age to drink is 18, as Cordonia is clearly in Europe, I ‘ll use the same legal age.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Word count: 4,600

Songs inspiration: Tears in Heaven by Eric Clapton

THANKS TO: To my awesome beta read @pedudley

And to the beautiful @burnsoslow who beta read the whole scene with Liam.

I love you both!!

Tagging:

@mskaneko @pedudley @burnsoslow @pug-bitch @lauzales @yukinagato2012 @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30 @loveellamae @nomadics-stuff @flutistbyday2020 @mrsdrakewalkerblog @ladyangel70 @kimmiedoo5 @debramcg1106 @ao719 @msjr0119 @ac27dj @forthebrokenheartedthings-blog

JUNE 2015

Nine months. Nine months since the ‘accident’. That was how her friends called it: ‘An accident’. The word infuriated her. It implied something so avoidable, something so small and simple. A finger caught in a door, a bad fall, a glass of whiskey spilled on the table. He didn’t have a broken leg, or a soared finger, he was dead. He was never going to come back again, his laughter vanished, his chocolates eyes gone, forever.

She would love to know how her friends called what had happened three months after his death. The day she had lost the last shred of hope she had left.

Every day she repeated the same routine, she woke up, drank, and stayed in bed looking through the window. Some days when the alcohol had numbed her enough, she was able to go through her albums and live in her memories. But most days, she couldn’t bear to see their happy faces, the joyful moments, so she just drank and cried.

Liam, Olivia and Max came every day to check up on her. Sometimes together, sometimes separate. They all had different methods to bring her back to life. None of them worked but they kept trying anyway.

Liam was caring and protective, he tried to make her eat or drink something else besides alcohol. Sometimes he tried to talk some sense into her, others he simply read to her.

Olivia’s approach was more direct, she arrived at the house like a tornado, cleaning the mess and throwing all the wine bottles and pizza boxes in the garbage, disgusted. She scolded her in the hope to see her strong friend fight back, but Alexis had gave up, nothing that Oliva said made her react.

Maxwell was kind and compassionate. He sat with her in silence, rubbing her back or crying with her. He only wanted to make her feel that she wasn’t alone. That he would be there when she was ready.

She knew that deep down she loved them, or that she had loved them once, but there was nothing left anymore for anyone else.

One morning, after yet another sleepless night, Alexis looked at her reflection in the mirror. She barely recognized herself. She touched her face, trying to remember how she looked like only nine months before. Her eyes drifted to the bottle of sleeping pills next to her toothbrush. Her decision was taken. He had died. He had left her. She had no reason to live anymore. That night, when her friends were gone, she would write some good-bye letters and she’ll go to sleep to never wake up again.

Ironically, that was the first day since it all happened that she had something to look forward to. After Savanah’s birthday, her life had stopped anyway, she was merely finishing the job.

August 2009

Maxwell and Olivia were having coffee after class while they waited for Alexis. When she arrived thirty minutes later, Max frowned, she looked like she wanted to bite someone’s head off.

Instead of greeting them, she threw her bag on the table, almost spilling Olivia’s coffee on her lap.

Olivia growled. “Careful there Alexis! This is Balmain.”

Maxwell rolled his eyes. “I’m sure that you meant to ask Lexie if everything was ok.”

Olivia snorted. “No, I meant to keep my very expensive outfit safe. Thank you very much.” She brushed her hand over her skirt making sure it was still spotless. “but yes tell us what happened to put you in such a dark mood, Alexis.”

“I can’t have coffee with you. Frickin Neville wants me to work tonight. Argh! I had the day off.”

Max looked at his best friend worried “Do you think that he’ll try something like the other night?”

“After all the self-defense classes Olivia has given me? I’d like to see him try” She took one French fry from Maxwell’s plate.

“So? What’s the problem? More hours mean more money, right?” He seemed confused “You’re always looking for extra hours.”

Olivia wasn’t fooled, she squinted at her friend. “She has a date with Walker.”

Maxwell squeaked. “Blossom!! You have seen him every day since you met him four days ago!”

“I know, Max. I can’t even explain it. He’ like… a drug” She ran her fingers through her head trying to hide her giddiness. “When he kisses me. I can’t even think or…”

Maxwell knew Drake Walker since they were kids, and he was well aware of his reputation. “What did you do last night?”

“We just walked all night, I waited until my father and Cindy were in their room, sneaked out and took him to the cove”

“The one you haven’t even show me?” Max looked hurt.

“I’ll take you next time Max, I swear” She hugged him. “Anyway, we just walked and talked until dawn.” She said leaving out that they had kissed senseless all over the beach.

Olivia feigned to yawn. “Can you please get to the part where you two fuck, all of this is very sweet but is giving me diabetes.”

A crimson blush spread all upon her cheeks. “We actually haven’t done it yet.”

Maxwell almost spilled his coffee. “What? Drake Walker? According to my brother, he’s a man-whore!”

Alexis shrugged. “We have kissed, a lot, but nothing else.”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “Alexis for Christ sake! Don’t be such a fucking prude!”

Alexis threw her hands in the air “I’m not! I don’t know what he’s waiting for.” She checked her watch “Fuck! I’ll be late!”

Maxwell and Olivia exchanged an amused look. “When had you been on time before?”

She flipped them off and ran to catch the bus.

--------------------------------------------

It was a calm, summer night so the college pub where she worked wasn’t busy, only two tables and some guys hanging out in the bar with Dany, her coworker.

She checked her phone for the third time that night and sighed disappointed, he hadn’t answer to her text cancelling their date.

Lost in her thoughts, she barely heard the tinkling of the bell hanging above the front door. When she finally turned her head, she saw Drake standing next to it, looking at her.

Her heart immediately skipped a beat. “Hi, stranger. What are you doing here?”

He cut the distance between them in two steps, took her in his arms and kissed her. “I’ve missed that.”

She played with the collar of his shirt, inebriated by the smell of sandalwood. “Me too, Drake.”

If he was completely honest, not only he had missed her, but he had been incapable of thinking about anything else all day, and at that moment seeing her so beautiful, with her bright eyes looking so intently at him, he was about to melt. He kissed her again.

“I can’t go out tonight, though. I have to close the place.” She said softly still fluttered by his kiss.

He didn’t want to come out to strong but decided to be honest anyway. “I did get your text, Lex, I just don’t like the idea of you walking at night and taking the bus alone so late.”

She shrugged, she was used to it. “I’ve been doing it the whole year, Drake. I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can, just let me help you a little.” He brushed her face with his fingers. “I can come get you when you work late, and we can spend more time together.”

She looked at him touched, besides Max who gave her a ride whenever he could, no one else cared how she got back after a nightshift. “Thank you.”

“Waitress!”

“Shit! I have to work. Wait for me at the bar, Daniel is actually pretty funny.” She winked. “and he knows his whiskey.”

She hurried to the table that was calling her. A group of college girls desperate to use their new ID’s. The rest of the night was calm, and Alexis could spare some moments to talk and laugh with Drake while he waited for her.

At one o’clock, they said good-bye to the last clients, Daniel headed home and Drake and Alexis stayed to close the bar.

“So, what do you want me to do?”

She leaned against the counter smiling shamelessly. “Really? You’re going to help me for free?”

He smirked trapping her with his arms against the counter “Who told you it was for free?” he leaned against her and softly kissed her lips. He inhaled her perfume enjoying her soft moans when his kiss became deeper and his fingers wandered all over her hips. “Fuck, you’re so sexy, Alexis”

The phone rang three times until they were able to break contact. She picked up and talked to her boss. When she hung up, they spend the next hour cleaning and sweeping the bar until it was ready to close.

She checked her watch. “I have to be home at three. My father knows at what time I close the bar, and it usually takes me more than an hour to get to the house.”

Drake arched his eyebrows. “So, he doesn’t come to pick you up, but you have a curfew?”

She nodded. “That’s pretty much it. He has a lot of ideas of what a well-behaved young lady can and cannot do.”

Drake was starting to strongly dislike the man. “Well, we closed the bar way faster.” He encircled her with his arms. “and I’ll take you back in the jeep, so we have one hour for ourselves.” He upped her chin to him and kissed her cheek. “Aren’t you hungry?”

She was starving but it was past midnight, she would eat a bowl of cereal at her house. “Yes, but everything is closed.”

He gave her a conspiratorial look “This classy joint has a kitchen, right?”

She smiled. “Yes”

He offered her his arm. “Well, let’s cook something then.”

The night before, during their walk, she had told him she used to love Mac & Cheese when she was a little girl, so he looked for the ingredients in the pantry.

“Can I help you there, Walker?”

He nodded his head towards a chair. “You were working all night, O’Brien, it’s your turn to sit.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “O’Brien?”

“Well, you haven’t stop calling me Walker since I told you my last name the other night, turnabout’s a fair play.” He winked playfully.

Alexis watched him cook for her. They had spent the last four days getting to know each other, and she had loved every minute of it. She loved how attentive he was, how he seemed to remember every little thing she said. She loved that he walked around looking brooding and angry, but he was the kindest person she had never met. She loved how protected she felt with him, like never before.

He loved animals, and great books but only liked boring music, he listened too much classic rock, and definitely needed more Latin songs in his playlist. His taste in movies was impeccable though, fan of Harry Potter and Tarantino.

Her mind drifted to the previous night, she shivered thinking about it, about the way he kissed her, desperate, passionate, wild but always a little gentle, she felt like he could read her mind and sensed exactly what she needed better than herself.

He put two plates with Mac & Cheese in front of her and she clapped happy. “Drake! Mac & cheese! I love it.”

He had never met someone so full of life before, she seemed to enjoy every single minute of her life. He shrugged trying not to think how much he loved that about her. “It’s only pasta, O’Brien.”

“Well, I love it.” She placed her hand over his and he locked his gaze with hers before he leaned to kiss her.

The talked about their lives while they ate. Drake told her about his childhood with Bastien and Savanah. Bastien worked for Constantine, the Duke of Valtoria, one of the most powerful men in the country, and a personal friend of King Godfrey. He worked at their estate all the time, so Drake had practically grown up with Leo and Liam Rhys. Alexis already knew that his father had died protecting the duke and that his mother had left when he was barely twelve years old. She hated the woman.

“I’m sorry she left, Drake.”

“I’m not. She was never a good mother for me or Savvie. Bastien is the only parent I have now.”

She squeezed his hand. He changed the subject, the less he talked about Bianca Walker, the best.

They finished the rest of their meal in silence, both deep in thought. He looked at her and couldn’t help but admire the strength she irradiated, a sort of light she wasn’t even aware she had in her. He had never opened himself so deeply to someone else, not even Liam. If he was honest, she scared him to death, she held too much power over him, he cared for her too much already but seemed incapable to stay away. She woke in him so many…things in such a short amount of time, that it made him feel overwhelmed.

She got up and reached for his plate, but he stood up and pulled it away from her reach. “I'll wash the dishes… you worked all night.”

“And you cooked.” She grinned at him. “we’ll do them together.”

The cleaned the kitchen playing and laughing with each other.

“It’s late now, I should take you home.” Drake sounded disappointed.

She wiggled her brows giving him a mischievous smile. “I have another idea, come on.” She grabbed two tumblers from the kitchen and took his hand guiding him to the cellar under the kitchen.

“Where are we exactly, Lexie?”

“In Walker’s Paradise.” She laughed pointing at all the Whiskey bottles on the floor.

“Isn’t this going to get you in trouble?”

Alexis took a bottle from one of the cabinets and opened it, then she poured the amber liquid into the tumblers.

Drake smiled shaking his head. “You really like trouble, hein? Breaking the rules, out after curfew, all that”

She looped her arms around his neck. “Maybe you make me want to break them.”

He grinned down at her and kissed her. “You’re going to make me blush, O’Brien.”

She chuckled. “That I would love to see.”

They sat on the floor with their backs against the wall, Drake pulled her against him with his arm around shoulders.

He took a sip from his glass. “It’s not bad.”

“I know.” She took a big gulp as well.

Drake looked at her questioningly. “I spilled my guts about my family earlier, but you never talk about yours.”

She fiddled with one of the many bracelets she was wearing. “My father is very religious, very strict but that didn’t stop him from leaving my mom for Cindy. He has a lot of rules and ideas about how I’m supposed to live my life.” She gave a half shrug. “I’m used to it; I just need to get through college and I’m out of there.”

“I may be intrusive here Lex, but why do you need to work? You live in one of the best neighborhoods in Cordonia. I mean, you live next to the Beaumont.”

“Well, first, because my father has a lot of debts. Cindy, his wife, is obsessed to be part of Cordonia’s high society, so she wants to live in the best neighborhood and she only buys designer clothes, or when she can’t its replicas. And second, because my father hates my major, he thinks I’ll end up being a starving writer.” She laughed. “He’s probably right, but I don’t care.”

He shook his head taking her chin with his fingers. “You’ll be whatever you want to be, O’Brien.” He fixed his piercing eyes on hers. “You’re brave and passionate and I have no doubt you will get to be a fantastic writer.”

She blushed. “Thank you.”

She looked adorable when she blushed. He cleared his throat. “How about a toast, Lexie.”

“What’re we toasting to?”

“To the moments in between.” He grinned.

She looked puzzled. “Huh?”

“All the nobles or the people like Cindy or my mother think about are the big events, the banquets, the press events, the grand balls. They don’t even realize that the moments that matter the most are the ones they’re missing. Moments like right now, just the two of us and some cheap whiskey. The ones that really mean something.” He brushed her lips with his thumb. “At least they mean something for me, anyway.”

She rubbed his cheek with the back of her hand “To me too, Drake. More than you can imagine.” She raised her glass. “For the moments in between.”

He grinned. “For the moments in between.”

They both gulped down their glasses. She moved to lay on the floor with her head in his lap. He racked his fingers through her hair, looking down at her eyes, and thinking how much he was enjoying that moment, having her like that, her head casually on his lap.

He lowered his head and crashed his lips with hers, she was still holding her glass so he grabbed it and casually put it next to them, as he laid over her, kissing her more, moving his mouth from her soft lips to her chin, and then lower to her neck. He smelled her perfume and got lost on her. Alexis could barely think, he seemed to be everywhere around her, she felt his warm breath and his teeth softly biting her neck and felt like she was losing all control.

He stopped himself, he wasn’t going to do it there. She was a goddess, she deserved much, much more than a dirty cellar.

“What’s the matter Drake?”

He sat against the wall again but this time he scooped her in his arms and sat her in his lap, she looped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his chest, still trying to recover her breath.

“I can’t believe I’m the one saying this, O’Brien, but we should wait to be in a better place to do this”

He looked at her, she was four years younger than him. She seemed almost innocent one second and the next one her eyes were black, charged with lust. He cupped her face “Can I ask you something, Lexie? Something personal?” He asked not sure how to address the subject.

She blushed a deep shade of scarlet, guessing exactly what he wanted to know. “If you want to know if I’m a virgin, I’m not. I had a boyfriend the last year of high school.”

He tried to hide the fact that he was jealous of a guy she had dated more than one year ago. “Did you love him?”

“I used to believe that, but” She stopped in her tracks not knowing how to continue. “I don’t know anymore. We had a lot of fun. Everything was very nice.”

He smirked “Nice?”

She stood up angrily leaning her back against the wall. “Yes, nice. Is there a problem with nice, Walker?”

He stood up and pressed her against the wall, roaming her back with his hands, burying his head on her hair, so she’d feel his breath warm, his hoarse voice in her ear “Love is burning, Alexis.” He softly nipped her earlobe as he pressed her even more. She gasped as a million goosebumps appear all over her arms. “Love is consuming.” He kissed the spot between her ear and her neck, and she shivered, the urge for him almost painful. “Love is messy and desperate.” He buried his head even more kissing the nape of her neck “Love is not nice.” He crashed his mouth with her lips again. She was addictive.

JUNE 2015

Alexis let herself get lost in her memory. That had been the day where she had fallen in love with him. Only five days after meeting him. Hearing his ideas, his views about the world. Seeing him taking care of her, making her feel so deeply safe. And getting lost in him, in his lips, his low voice, in the sandalwood. In the passion they shared for each other. Before closing her eyes and joining him for good, that was the image she’ll take with her. The image of the day she had lost her soul to Drake Walker.

APRIL 2019

Alexis’s eyes got lost in the clouds. She had always loved to fly, especially at that moment where the plane was so high, that the clouds were beneath them and the sun cast its light on them. She didn’t believe in anything, not anymore, but there in the heights, in the middle of the sky, she wondered, if maybe there was an afterlife, if maybe someday she would see him again.

Five years had passed, but the wound was still there, raw and ready to hurt, ready to pull her back to the abyss. She turned to look at Liam sleeping beside her. Now she had someone to fight for.

He had fallen asleep as soon as the plane had left the ground. He had to be exhausted; he worked really hard at making Valtoria the most productive duchy in Cordonia, and yet he managed to always be there for her when she needed him.

She was aware that the only reason he had left in the middle of the negotiations with the biggest export American company was because of her. Because of the date that was coming to haunt her. A warm feeling spread through her chest at the thought of all the things Liam had done for her. She took his hand between hers, careful not to wake him up.

Paris was beautiful in April. Alexis admired the blossoming trees and the warmth, spring light bathing the majestic buildings while they walked hand in hand.

Liam knew that the next weeks were going to get difficult, especially at the beginning of the next month, his birthday, so he wanted to distract her as much as he could, showing her his favorite city. He wasn’t naïve; he knew nothing he did was going to erase that day, but he was going to try and do anything in his power to bring her some joy. After all, they had been friends for nine years and together for almost two; he thought he knew her well enough to know what could make her happy.

“What would you think if I took you for some macarons?”

She grinned. “I love Ladurée.”

He shook his head, smiling. “See, everyone thinks the best French macarons are those from Chez Ladurée, but they’re the most famous ones. The best ones are the ones prepared by the chef Pierre Hermé.”

“Lead the way then.” She took his arm and they walked together through the Parisian streets. Every now and then, Liam would show her a small boutique or a gallery that he knew she’d enjoy. They passed the Orsay Museum and the Louvre, and he promised her they would go the next day. Alexis was dying to see the impressionist collection. When they crossed the Pont-Saint Michel, he took her to the Quai de Tournelle, the little quay in Paris where dozens of second-hand booksellers sold their finds at small prizes.

Alexis beamed, truly happy for the first time in days. “Li, this is perfect; I can’t imagine the thousands of first editions or old books that are hiding in here.”

His heart swelled, seeing her smiling. “I knew you would like it, my love.”

She stepped up on her tiptoes and kissed him. “I love it.”

After they walked for a while, they finally arrived at the Teahouse, and Alexis had to admit that they were the best macarons she had ever eaten.

“What now, Mr. Frenchman?”

He cupped her face and kissed her. “I have a surprise for you. Just wait here.”

He left her for a moment to prepare his surprise. When he came back a few minutes later, he spotted her leaning against a stone railing overlooking the Seine River. Her expression was clouded, but when she saw him approach her, she broke into a smile.

He cut the distance between them and wrapped her in a tight embrace. She rested her head on his shoulder.

“Are you all right, darling? He smiled down at her.

“Better now that you’re here, but I can’t stop thinking about everything.”

“I know, Alexis. I’m here now.” He took her hand, joining her at the railing. They spent a long moment holding hands, gazing across the river.

“It’s so quiet,” Alexis said, placing her hair behind her ear “It feels like the whole city is sleeping, like we’re the last humans on earth.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

She shook her head. “No, a little bit of peace is very welcomed.”

“I’m very glad you think so, love. Come here.”

He led her further along the bridge, where she saw a basket sitting on the paving stones. He pulled a small blanket from the basket and spread it out before her.

He saw her astonished expression, so he explained. “I know picnics are not my favorite activity, but I knew you were going to like it. Besides, you’re the one telling me I should be more adventurous.”

She laughed. “I don’t know if a picnic in Paris counts as an adventure, but ...” She caressed his cheek. “You’re right, I love it.”

They settled down on the blanket as he uncorked an expensive bottle of Chateau Margaux, and Alexis pulled some cheeses, bread, and a couple of glasses out of the basket.

“I want to make a toast for us, Lex-“ He cleared his throat. “Alexis, sorry. I forgot.”

Her heart skipped a beat at the mention of her old nickname. “It’s fine, Li. Don’t worry. I just hate to hear it” He took her chin in his fingers and kissed her.

“I know, love. Let’s forget about it. I wanted to toast to us, to our life together”

She raised her glass.

“Thank you for everything.” She looked in his eyes. “I mean everything, Liam. The sacrifice you’re going to make for me.” Her eyes watered. “I can’t believe it.”

He placed his hand on hers. “There’s no sacrifice, love. I’ll do it because I’m crazy about you, and the only thing I want in life is to be with you. I just wish you knew how much I love you, Alexis.”

He stroked her face and kissed her softly, gently caressing her back with his hands.

After a moment of kissing next to the river, they started eating their delicacies.

Liam observed his fiancée, unsure of how to address the subject. “We’re getting married in two months, love.”

She nodded, smiling. “I’m aware of it, Li.”

“So, you’re also aware that you can’t postpone it anymore. We can go together if you want. You need … closure.”

“Do we have to talk about it now?”

“You never want to talk about it, Alexis. It’s time.”

“I promise, I’ll take care of it as soon as we arrive in Cordonia.”

He nodded, unconvinced; she had made him the same promise several weeks ago.

He just hoped that after everything that had happened and the guilt he carried with him every day, he was going to be able to marry her and make her happy for the rest of their lives.

#tears in heaven #drake x mc #drakexmc #liam rhys #liam x mc #alexis o'brien #tw suicude #tw depression #tw death

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anotheronechicagobog · 4 years ago

Text

The Crackship Sails to Molly’s Natalie Manning x Stella Kidd

written by @anotheronechicagobog

warnings: swearing, mention of homophobia, Manning isn’t Nat’s maiden name, she changed it when she got married, just saying, Helen’s kindof a bitch, canon compliant accidents, implied artificial insemination, implied/mentioned smut

They had absolutely no idea how they ended up there. Well, that wasn’t strictly true... Molly’s and ladies’ nights. And tequila, tequila was definitely at fault here. For their hangovers and their nudity under the covers. Unfortunately, the tequila didn’t take their memories, so they knew exactly what they did. Or who they did, rather. And the answer was each other.

After Natalie’s awkward exit from Stella’s apartment above the Hermann house, Stella made quick work of the dirty dishes from their breakfast. She couldn’t help but think back to the previous night. They were so drunk, but Natalie was so hot and Stella just felt something inside her snap. It had felt like a coil, but everything that she and Nat did last night, it all just felt so right, so satisfying. She felt like she was on a high. There was no way she was going to last long without having sex with Natalie again, she could already feel herself going crazy.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As it turned out, she wasn’t the only one feeling that way. And so, their friends with benefits relationship began. Stella was a bit nervous, she had a two-year-old son and a pretty crazy mother in law. But it felt so right. Until it felt more than right, and both women knew they were in trouble. It started with cuddling after sex and lead to watching movies in the afternoon and lingering touches and longing looks. But one rainy Sunday afternoon, they were cuddled on Natalie’s brand new GRÖNLID, and suddenly it just hit both of them. They were dating, in secret, but dating. Natalie licked her lips and looked Stella in the eye. “Will you go on a date with me?” Stella cradled her face gingerly, placing a soft kiss on her lips. “I would love to.”

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It became obvious to Helen very quickly that Natalie was seeing someone, and the thought made her stomach heavy. She knew it wasn’t fair of her to hate the idea of Natalie moving on, but she couldn’t help it. She only had one son. She only wanted one son. And he was gone.

So when Owen was picked up by someone else while Natalie was at work, months after Helen knew she had officially begun dating him, Helen lost it. Her mouth turned bitter as she drove to the hospital, fully prepared to scream at her daughter-in-law in front of her coworkers. When she got to MED she barely remembered to throw her car in park before slamming the door and marching past everyone. The people waiting, nurses, secretaries, the only one who was able to stop her was Maggie. “Helen, hi. How are you? You know you can’t be back here right?”

“I’m here to see Natalie, move.”

“Okay, no. You do not get to speak to me like that ever, much less so in my ED. Drop the attitude. Now.”

“It’s too soon, Maggie, it’s only been-”

“Four years. It has been four years Helen, I’m not going to pretend I know what you’re going through, but I know that it is absolutely no excuse for acting the way you are. You are not entitled to Natalie’s love life, and you still haven’t apologized to me. And since you’re not in an emergency medical situation and I do not feel like dealing with your BS right now, you need to leave.”

“Maggie you can’t-”

“I’ll call security.”

“Don’t interfere with something that-”

“Security, escort this woman off the premises, please and thank you.” The two security guards Maggie had summoned with a raised eyebrow ended up dragging Helen out kicking and screaming. All while Natalie watched in heartbreak. Was it really that awful that she didn’t want to be alone and empty for the rest of her life?

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Because of the incident at MED Nat and Stella decided it was time to sit Helen down and tell her that they were dating and to get over herself. Helen entered in a huff, somewhat pleased with herself that she finally got Natalie to admit she was seeing someone, but she would be lying her ass off if she said she wouldn’t give whoever this guy was shit for sneaking around with a widow. She didn’t see him though, only a Latina woman in a mustard sweater and jeans. “Alright, where is he?”

“Sit down Helen, you don’t’ get to talk to me that way.” Helen threw herself down onto the same chair she’d tossed her jacket and purse on while Natalie sat beside the woman on the light green couch. Helen felt all her rage and grief evaporate as she watched the two women intertwined hands. “I’m bisexual, Helen. So is Stella. I didn’t figure it out really until I met her. I guess a part of me always knew but I kind of ignored it, because, well, you know how people discriminate against LGBTQ people. But, she makes me so, so happy. And Owen just loves her.”

“Oh thank God.”

“Huh?”

“What?”

“Oh, I don’t care about sexualities, really. Love is love and anyone who tries to limit the love of others is a fool and a monster. Truthfully, this is a relief. I was so scared that you’d found a man to replace Jeff. You dating a woman is actually a lot more comfortable for me. I already approve.”

“While I’m glad Stella’s got your stamp of approval, you have to understand that your behaviour recently is unacceptable, right? You are not entitled to anything, and you owe both me and Maggie apologies.”

“You’re... Right. Completely right. There isn’t an excuse or a reason, not a good one anyway. I’m so sorry Natalie. Really, I am... That... That psychiatrist you work with, Dr. Charles, does he, uh, is he accepting patients? I think, I mean I’ve put it off for so long, I think it’s time that I talk to someone. About everything.”

“That sounds like a good idea, Helen, I’ll talk to him tomorrow for you.”

“Thank you. Now Stella, you’ve been very quiet during all this, I’d like to get to know you. What do you do?- Oh! And how long have you two been dating?”

“I’m a firefighter, and we’ve been dating for- eight months?”

“Around that, yeah.”

“That’s wonderful, how do you like being a firefighter?”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After Helen apologized to everyone and started therapy, things got much calmer. She also became Stella and Natalie’s biggest supporter. Like tonight, she was always offering to babysit for date nights, and the couple took full advantage of that. They were dining out at an intimate restaurant, glad for some time with just the two of them. “So I read this story on Reddit on my break today about this guy who, completely sober, was shoving a toilet brush up his... You know, so that it looked like he had a bunny tail. You guys ever get anything crazy like that?”

“Yeah actually, we’ve got this frequent flyer for ambo who regularly gets high off his ass, draws weird, nonsensical symbols all over his body, then call to complain that he was assaulted by aliens.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah, hey, I found The Italian Job on Netflix, the one with Jason Statham. Wanna watch it when we get back?”

“Oh, absolutely. I love his movies.”

“I know right?”

“He’s like the British Ryan Reynolds.”

“Yes! Exactly!”

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TWO YEARS LATER

Stella was just finishing up with the snacks for Owen’s fifth birthday party when the Hermann Horde arrived. “Hey guys! Nat’s just about done with the decorations, but she and Owen are out back.”

“When does Helen get here?”

“She should be here in fifteen, she picked up the cake from the bakery.”

“I thought you were a pretty good baker Stella, why from a bakery?”

“I can bake many things, but a cake for forty people that looks like a shark? Nope. Not that.”

“Owen really likes the ocean, doesn’t he?” Cindy looked around at all the ocean-themed decorations, the snacks dressed up to look like different sea creatures. “He really does, can’t say I blame him though. We go to the aquarium pretty frequently, and damn these little guys are amazing and beautiful.” The placed the last of the jellyfish sugar cookies on the platter and smiled. She really felt like Owen was her son, and as far as anyone was concerned, she was. It would even be official in a couple of months when she and Nat get married. “I love seeing you happy like this Stella.”

“Thanks, Cindy. It feels good.”

“It looks good too, you’re both just so bright and sometimes I swear that Natalie’s glowing.” Stella kissed the older woman on the cheek, biting her lip to keep from revealing that Natalie was glowing, and that they’d be welcoming another member into their family in around eight months.

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TWO MONTHS LATER

Natalie and Stella were overjoyed, they were finally wife and wife, recognized by the state as a family. Hearts full and warm, they danced in slow graceful circles, the skirts of both their gowns flowing in cloud-like motions around them. “I love you.”

“I love you too. So much.” The music from the orchestra trickled to an end, parting the smiling brides. “Ready to tell them?”

“Yes. I am so excited.” Kisses were exchanged before the blushing brides made their way up to the stage with their arms around each others’ waist. “First of all, we would like to thank everyone for being here to celebrate the best day of our lives.”

“Second of all, we have an announcement to make. Nat’s three months pregnant.” Stella and Natalie placed their hands over Nat’s abdomen, smiling misty tears as they were met with cheers from all of their family and friends, no one louder than Owen.

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FIVE YEARS LATER

While working in the ED Natalie had been a witness to numerous tragedies. She’d also been through a few herself. And Maggie, wise, gentle, loving, Maggie, always knew when the worst of the worst were about to come through. She got this look on her face as she answered the head nurse phone, meaning that it was someone they all knew. After a few whispered words with Ms. Goodwin Maggie’s guilt-ridden gaze settle on Natalie. “Nat, I need you to go wait in the doctor’s lounge.”

“Maggie? What’s going on?” In the back of her mind, in the depths of her heart, Natalie knew what was wrong. But she didn’t want to be right. She wanted to be so, so wrong. “Dr. Conte,” Natalie had realized two months into her and Stella’s relationship that she still had the name she took when she married Jeff at twenty years old and decided to go back to her maiden name. “You need to go wait in the doctor’s lounge.”

“Sharon, no-”

“Incoming! Thirty-three year old female, firefighter, inside an electrical fire when the house went. Halstead, Noah, April, you’re in treatment three.” The sounds of beeps and medical jargon couldn’t be heard above the buzzing in Natalie’s ears. Choi was holding her back, trying to drag her to the doctor’s lounge, stopping her from being with her wife. And then her BP dropped and she flatlined. The instructions given could not be heard by anyone outside of the room over Natalie’s horrified, deafening, soul-shattering scream.

And then it was back. One round of epi and she was back. Natalie broke down into heaving, gut-wrenching sobs in Ethan’s arms. He was the only thing keeping her from sliding to the floor, her legs had lost all their strength.

She didn’t remember sitting down, or getting any water or food. But suddenly she feels like she’s woken up and she has a bottle of water and thermos in her hands. “Eat.” Kelly Severide is beside her with a hand on her shoulder. Sylvie is handing her a spoon. Joe is handing her tissues. “Cindy and Helen are watching Owen and Celeste, don’t worry.” She’s drunk the entire water bottle and eaten five spoonful of soup when Maggie approaches her. “Maggie don’t tell me she’s gone- oh God, please no-”

“She’s fine. They’re closing her up now, she’ll recover just fine. Come on, I’ll take you to her recovery room. And bring that thermos. You’re going to finish eating even if I have to tie you down and feed you myself.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Nat?” Stella had woken up, for good this time, and was staring at the love of her life as Connor and Crockett left the room. “You scared me. So, so much.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, just be alive. Please, just stay alive.” Nat kissed her forehead and stroked her hair as all her tears just couldn’t be held back anymore. “I know you love being a firefighter, and I love it too, I will never want you to give up a job that you are so kickass at, but please, please be more careful. I’m begging you.”

“Okay... I’ll be more careful.” Stella’s coughing fit was cured by a glass of water, and the aches in her bones were cured by the gentle hugs from her son and daughter when they saw her an hour later. “I love you.” She chanted to each of them. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” And she did, until she and Natalie were in their eighties and living in Fowlerton. They were found by their neighbour who went to check on them after he didn’t see them on their porch like he did every morning. Stll. Peaceful. Tangled together. In love until their very last breaths.

#One Chicago #Chicago Fire #chicago med #Natalie Manning #stella kidd #natalie manning x stella kidd

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gencat21 · 5 years ago

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NCT— Him Saying Something Hurtful To You And You Get Hurt Afterwards

Requests are OPEN

NCT DREAM + Doyoung + Jaehyun + TEN (as requested)

Dreamies are on their ways, this just ended up being longer than expected haha. I'm.not. sorry.

DOYOUNG:

It was not normal for you two to be fighting. Usually, you solve things by talking things through instead of letting you feel control your words and fight and yell at each other. Do young hated that more than you, but this time it was different. You were arguing and but were yelling at each other, for the first time in two years of relationship. "Sometimes I think dating you is a mistake, " he said to you, without looking at you since all he felt at the moment was rage. He didn't even notice how your eyes were getting watery and how your mouth was partially open. You knew he was always careful with his words, at that he barely let his feeling or the moment say something he doesn't mean. He meant that, and there's nothing you can do about him feeling that way. "Okay, " was the only word you let out.

You grabbed your bag and left without saying anything else, and when you didn't hear him calling out your name your whole world collapsed. You were walking to your apartment that was actually quite far but you had red and puffy eyes and didn't feel like explaining anything to your roommate, so walking there was actually okay for you. You thought that until a couple of blocks away from Doyoung's apartment you saw a mysterious man walking in your direction. You decided it was better to cross the street to avoid him until he crossed the street as well and started following you. You only thought about going back to Doyoung's apartment. You crossed the street again and started running as fast as you could, being thankful that you were athletic and got to his apartment in a minute. You were thankful that the sidewalk of his apartment building had around 6 people around, but either way I did not look back nor thought the has not following me anymore. I typed down the code of the building and got in, closing the door just as fast, locking itself automatically. There was no way in hell you were going back out there tonight, so even though you didn't want to see his face, you only had one choice, and it was to go back to Doyoung's.

You opened the door, closing it behind you and felt how air was entering your lungs all over again.

You fell on the floor and closed your eyes to try and calm down your breathing. You felt like crying, but tears were not coming out and you couldn't care less. You didn't even notice the lights were already off until they were on again and you just saw his face staring at you. He had a frown on his face that made you look away instantly. "I'm sorry I came back but… there was a ma-m-man follow… I can barely speak." You laughed nervously, still shaking from what had happened.

He walked to your direction and stared at you in silence. His eyes looked like he was crying seconds prior, and it was something I couldn't believe. And in a matter of seconds, he fell down to his knees, and pulled you to his chest, caressing your head "I didn't mean what I said, I'm sorry, please forgive what I said I was just being stupid and I didn't think about what I said until you left an—" his voice cracked, causing your tears to finally be released, he let go of the hug to grab your face and look at your puffy eyes. "and my baby almost got mugged?" He hugged you again, this time it was stronger. "how will I ever let you go now?"

You felt more relieved than ever before. One, you didn't get mugged.

Two, you didn't lose the love of your life.

It will take him a few more efforts for you to forgive him fully, but right now it was not the right time to make a scene.

TEN:

"Don't you think it's already enough? I mean, you've been dancing for 5 hours and you need to rest. This is your free day after all." You said looking at him from the door of the practice room. You knew he has been practicing when he was supposed to be at home and you worried a lot about his health. I knew he wanted to do perfect in everything, but there was a limit. He turned around while swiping his sweat off with a hand towel. His eyes fell on you and he nodded. "In a minute, just one last time."

"You said that twenty minutes ago,"

"I know,"

"So let's go." You insisted.

"I said in a minute," but the truth was that you were getting on his nerves, telling him over and over the same thing, and he did the same. "You need to—”

" If you want to leave just do, you don't have to be clinging on me. Don't you have a life? " He said and caught you off guard. And for reason, his words hurt. He didn't yell at you, he said it in the most calm way possible as he turned around to look at himself in the big mirror that covered the wall.

You just cared about his health, and he implied that you didn't have a life aside from him and that you were too clingy. Were you really. You thought you gave him enough space, and him being an idol then that meant you couldn't see each other a lot due to his busy schedule. And yet you were asphyxiating him? There were no words that could leave your lips. So you nodded even, not knowing if he was looking at you or not. To be honest, you were not thinking about that type of stuff. You just silently left. You have had postponed all the work you could to another day to spend it that day with him for nothing. So as soon as you left the SM building, you picked up your phone and started to call your boss to tell her that you were going to be able to finish your work today (Perks of being good friends with your boss), but you got distracted with the call that you didn't noticed going full speed in the street, hopefully some guy pulled you by the arm so you wouldn't be crushed and dead. Either way, you fell to the ground and a lady that backed up as well to save herself fell on your leg. On your bad leg. On the leg, you had a cast just a week ago. You whined but didn't want to say anything to the lady because, in the end, it wasn't her fault. So you stood and picked up your phone that was on the floor. "Uhm, are you there? I will be a little late." You laughed nervously and limped until you found a cab.

Your luck was not with you at all.

After that day you had to put on a cast all over again and worked normally since most of your work was sitting. You ignored Ten's calls for 3 days straight since you didn't feel like talking about anything with him. You just kept remember him saying those words to you, and that was enough for you to feel upset again and ignore his call. I tried to understand why he felt like that towards me and I couldn't understand. "Aren't you answering that?" Your co-worker asked about your phone lighting up and you just shook your head no. "Then what are you going to do about that?" She asked and she pointed at Ten walking to your direction through the glass door, you peeked and then couldn't help but to look again at your work. You had missed him but at the same time you thought about something for those three days, and you were clear of your decision.

Your coworker left as soon as she saw Ten standing in front of your desk. "Can we talk?" He seemed nervous. "I'm working."

"I'll wait," and he sat on the waiting room a few feet away, and waited an hour until your shift was done, just sitting there tapping his right foot over and over. You stood up how you could and grabbed your crutches after putting your purse on your shoulder. And his heart broke, he didn't know you had that again, after having that for a month. He felt awful after realizing he called you clingy when you were nothing near. "Baby, I—"

"Don't bother, sweetie,” you told him as calm as possible, but still feeling that pressure in your heart. He smiled as soon as you called him sweetie. " Let's break up,” you said and walked past him, leaving behind, and his smile fell.

"What? No, bab—"

"I thought if I'm clingy as you said, we could just break up. Because personally, I don't think I'm clingy. But if you do, there's the problem between us." You said, and he stood in front of you.

"I said something I didn't mean. I was feeling stressed over messing up a lot of moves during a show and I obsessed over that."

"I spent two weeks without seeing you. And when I do, that happens. Either way, we will struggle in this relationship. And the truth is that you're not ready for one, you can't barely see me due to work and I understand that, but I can't do this for longer. I love you, but I just can't stand being away from you when you're mine."

His eyes were looking at your face completely as if it were going to disappear and he wanted to study it to depth. "I'm here," he begged with his tone. "C'mon, I will cook for you and treat you good tonight. Yes? We can do this, we've been through a lot, we can work this out." If it wasn't for your hands-on then crutches, they would have been covered by his. You remained silent while he searched for your eyes, that were somewhere else on the verge of crying. "Please,"

JAEHYUN:

You walked to the living room of the dorm where you and Jaehyun we alone since the rest of the boys went outside, a piece of paper on your right hand, feeling extremely happy about the work that you had just done. "I finally finished this song and I'm very excited that you read it." You were a songwriter, that's how you met Jaehyun and fell in love. There were a couple of songs you helped write for NCT and a few more idols, and there was a song stuck in your head that you needed to type down the lyrics fast. You have been working on that song for three weeks straight and now that it was done, you just wanted to show it to him.

He grabbed it and started reading while you were seating beside him on the couch waiting for him to finish. And when he gave you back the piece of paper, you waited for him to tell you how good it was or something like that, but it was not like that. "Is this really done? No offense baby, but it's bad."

"Bad?" You asked, your eyes glued to the paper, rereading the song over and overlooking where it says that it is bad. "Is not bad."

"How are you a songwriter, again?" He said, in a playful tone but it hurt your feelings either way. You laughed slightly in the most sarcastic way possible and then stood up not wishing to see his face at all at the moment. "It's getting late, I'm leaving." You said, grabbing your bag that was on a chair beside the couch you were on. You fixed your eyes to the door and walked to it as fast as you could.

"C'mon, you're pissed about that Y/N? And baby, you were supposed to sleep tonight with me " He stood up to follow you but you closed the door on his face, letting him know that it was a no. He knew it was bad to follow you since you could easily punch him somewhere. He always waits until you calm down and then try to apologize for whatever he does. Either way, he opened the door and saw your figure standing in front of the elevator waiting. "Call me when you get home? Or text me?" You knew he was not going to follow you since you knew he knows you need space right now. And left his sorry eyes staring at you without giving him a response.

You left the dorm and got into a cab that took you to your apartment. But the weird thing was that when you got to your door it was partially open. You don't remember leaving it like that. Did someone break-in? Is that person still inside? You peeked through the crook of the door and saw nothing, no movement, lights off. You saw that the floor was covered in a piece of glass and you cursed right away. You entered the apartment and turned the lights on, and then it was obvious someone broke in and broke stuff and stole stuff. There was nothing important or expensive there so, poor bastard that expected to find something of value. You called the police to report it when you saw the man running in your direction, he pushed you and ran away. You fell on the floor where the glass was and got glass all over your hand since you try to use it as support. "FUCKING ASSHOLE, " you couldn't help but scream when you felt the pain. Immediately you stood up, looked for a towel to cover your hand so the blood wouldn't drip on the floor and went to the hospital right away, only taking your wallet and keys with you. Two hours later, you went back to your apartment to find him sitting in your couch, with his head on his hands. Once he heard your voice of surprise he stood up and wanted to hug you but didn't know if you were going to push him away, but you knew he wanted to run to you. "You didn't call me so I came and saw blood and you left your phone and I couldn't call you and I was worried and—" you shut him up by placing your left and good hand against his mouth. "You're rambling, ”

" I'm sorry for what I said. I misused my words and tried to joke but it wasn't funny to you."

"It's fine, I'm not supposed to write good songs all the time,” you said, watching how he grabbed carefully you by your right wrist and started watching how your hand was wrapped in bandages. And looked at your face like he was about to cry, but tears were not going to come out. "Hug me, "

And so he did, placed his chin on top of your head and pulled to his chest. You explained what had happened while hugging him, he cleaned the mess the stupid man did and spent the whole night with you fixing the half bad/good song. When he explained to you it was true, you could have done way better.

(Credit to the owners of the gifs)

#nct angst #nct imagines #nct wayv #nct scenarios #nct jaehyun #nct mark #nct dream #doyoung #requests #na jaemin #haechan #renjun #jeno #chenle

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bnhainsert · 4 years ago

Text

Sound Out

Chapter 8: Aria Di Sorbetto

Hado woke up to a text from Jiro. She was asking if Hado wanted to see a new movie that had come out recently.

Jiro: Yeah there’s this new comedy movie we’ve been wanting to see

Hado: We?

Jiro: Ochako, Asui, Midoriya, and Shoji

Hado: Who’s Shoji?

Jiro: You know pro hero tentacole?

Hado: THAT’S HIM?! HELL YEAH I’D LOVE TO MEET ANOTHER PRO HERO

Jiro: Alright lay off the caps please. I’ll meet you at the movie around 4pm

Hado put away her phone and decided to train a bit before she would have to get ready to leave. She managed to get some quirk training in as well as strength training. She took a shower to clean up a bit. She dug through her duffle bag looking for something cute to wear out to the movies. She unfortunately didn’t pack any of her cute casual clothes when she left home 3 weeks ago. She opened up her wallet and did some mental math. Because the cottage she had been living in was stocked, she hadn’t spent any money recently. She made the bold decision to go out and buy a new outfit to treat herself. She had been working so hard recently that she told herself she deserved it. The movie theater she would be meeting them at was in the shopping district anyway.

Hado arrived in the shopping district looking for a nice shop to get a new outfit from. She settled on a AC Quarter’s because the clothes were moderately priced and wouldn’t break the bank. She double checked the time to make sure she had enough time to try the clothes on and leave. She had about an hour and a half before the set meeting time with Jiro.

Browsing through the clothes she decided she would buy herself a dress. She didn’t have very many so, what the hell, why not? She sorted through a lot of different styles, almost always turning down something with a floral pattern on it. Hado had nothing against flowers, they were just too busy of a design on the cloth. “Too short…. too long….too formal….too….risqué” She thought sorting through all of the dresses. She stopped at a cute blue dress that was a little bit past knee-length. It had a cinched waist, a squared off neckline, and cute little buttons going down the middle. The best part of it was that it had thin wavy lines on it that reminded her of her hero costume. She found the dress in her size and went to check out. She looked down at her feet on the way to the counter and realized she was wearing the same sneakers she had worn for almost 5 years now. They looked very beaten up. “maybe I should get a new pair of shoes too…”

Hado refused to wear heals. They sucked to walk in and they sucked to sing in. She looked at the variety of flats they had instead. She really liked the way the Tod’s shoes looked. Tod brand shoes were normally a little too pricey for her but she had the money to spare and purchase a pair of black ones.

On her way up to the counter she spotted a cute black choker and grabbed it boldly. Yeah, sure, chokers hadn’t been in style in a while, but she liked them and thought it would look cute with her dress. The cashier rang her up and gave her her total. “Is it like date night or something?” The woman behind the counter asked. “Oh no. I’m going to a movie with some friends. I just want to look cute for me and me along” Hado confidently responded. “Wish I had that same boldness” The lady replied. “Oh but you could! I bet you would look great in purple! Find a nice purple blouse, throw on some casual jeans and maybe some heels and you’ve got it made!” Hado threw out. She wasn’t sure where this advice was coming from, but the lady at the counter seemed to take it to heart. She smiled at Hado and thanked her. Hado waved back to the cashier as she walked out of the store. Hey, being a hero didn’t always mean catching villains or rescuing people.

Hado changed in a nearby bathroom and put her old clothes in the shopping bag she was given. She made her way to the movie theater. She had managed to arrive 5 minutes early surprisingly. She sat down on a bench right outside waiting for her friends. “You’re here too?” She heard a familiar voice from behind. She turned around to see Bakugo in casual clothing. “Oh yeah um Jiro invited me out to this movie. I think it’s going to be real stupid so I’m looking forward to it” Hado said. “Yeah, whatever” Bakugo responded.

About 2 minutes later, the others began to arrive. Jiro walked up with Ochako, Tsu, Midoriya, and the person Hado assumed was Shoji. He looked even cooler in person! Behind them she saw Ashido, Kaminari, Kirishima, and Sero. Ashido casually greeted Jiro. “Oh what a coincidence! We’re all here at the same time! Are you guys going to see the same movie too?” She asked innocently. Jiro mentioned the movie they were seeing, and it matched up. The whole group of pro heroes entered the theater.

“Well this is fucking weird” Hado thought to herself. She was very suspicious of Ashido who she had learned had a penchant for causing a stir. It wasn’t ever harmful trouble; it was just a little exhausting. The groups of pro heroes chatted with each other as they looked for seats in the theater. Before they could pick Bakugo marched his way up all the way to the top. He glared at everyone, almost daring them to sit near him. They were used to this by now so they followed him up, but instead of sitting on his row, they sat in the row in front of him. They managed to all get there before Hado had a chance to make it up the stairs. She looked and noticed that most of the seats were already taken. She sighed and made her way all the way up to the top and sat by Bakugo. Bakugo looked over at her, noticing her exhausted look.

“Hey if you don’t want to sit next to me, there’s plenty of other chairs here” he snarled.

Hado laughed in response which made a few of the pro heroes turn their heads, surprised. “Please I think I can handle sitting by you. Besides, who else am I going to annoy all move with my color commentary” Hado teased. Bakugo shot back a smirk. The few that had looked back were so shocked they didn’t realize they were staring. The only one who didn’t bother looking back was Midoriya.

“Hey mind your own business you damn extras” Bakugo snapped and they all immediately turned their head back to the screen and continued their conversations. Hado snickered in response. “Will that ever get old?” She asked aloud. “I hope not” Bakugo replied.

Everything was going according to plan. Midoriya relaxed in his chair, a feeling of relief filling his body. He hoped this wasn’t too obvious of a set-up, but he knew his best friend would never have taken the initiative to ask Hado out. Midoriya remembered worrying about his friend and how he would even manage to make this happen. Luckily, he knew some of the smoothest people in town. Calling Mina, Denki, and Eijirou was a great idea. They had all brainstormed some ways of making this happen, throwing out the ideas that Bakugo would never go for, which was most of them. They all agreed that they had to trick him into a date because he was too much of an idiot to really act on those feelings. Hell the only person he really fully opened up to was Midoriya and he still didn’t mention how he felt about Hado to him. Midoriya knew though. Midoriya at least knew what a crush felt like.

The lights went down, and the previews started. “Oh shit I forgot to buy the popcorn!” Kaminari said loudly and jumped out of his seat. “Get a big one for us to share” Mina shouted to him as he left the theater. He gave a nod of understanding before disappearing out of view. “Idiot” Bakugo said under his breath. He looked over at Hado suppressing a laugh. “He just wants to make the movie experience a little more fun. It just feels a little more complete with popcorn you know?” She explained. “If you wanted some goddamn popcorn all you had to do was ask” Bakugo shot back and stood up to leave his seat. Hado looked shocked at Bakugo as he stomped out of the theater. He was still surprising her even after all the time they had been spending together. A warm smile found its place onto her face.

“Ooooo how are the love birds doing?” Ashido teased, looking back at Hado. Hado was thankful the lights had gone out so Ashido couldn’t see how red her face got. “Shut up. It’s not like that. This is just how Bakugo is” Hado replied. “I can’t remember the last time Bakugo got me popcorn at a movie” Kirishima stated. “Oh, you mean that time that never happened?” Sero added. The pro heroes started giggling. A few other people who were in the theater turned around and shushed them. “Oh come on it’s just the previews, don’t be so uptight” Hado replied. One of the people who had turned around started glaring at her. “Ugh I promise you won’t hear them again okay?” Hado said in an attempt to make peace. The person turned back around with a huff. “Not sure how you’re going to do that. We happen to be a very noisy bunch” Ashido said loudly. Luckily Hado was expecting it and stopped the soundwaves from reaching the people in front of them. Midoriya was the one to laugh this time. “She’s a sound hero Ashido. And she’s very good at what she does. That’s probably why Bakugo has taken a liking to her” Midoriya said turning around to smile at Hado. Her face turned beet red again. “There’s no way he’s interested in me as more than just like…. a training partner, or like a pro hero to work with. Yeah I’m just basically a coworker to him” Hado rambled in her head, making sense of everything the others were implying. Kaminari came back with a big bucket of popcorn and took his place. “What’d I miss?” He whispered to Jiro. “Just us picking on Hado” She responded. “Aww man I miss out on all the fun” he said upset but pushed a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

Bakugo came back with a relatively normal sized bag of popcorn, stomping the whole way back up to his seat. “I better not have missed anything good loser” He said without taking his eyes off of the screen. “I thought you weren’t interested in a movie like this” Hado threw right back at him. “I’m not. I’m just here to tear down this shitty movie. I don’t want to miss a good chance to fucking annihilate whoever this dumb director is” Bakugo answered. Hado shrugged and faced the screen while every once in a while, grabbing some popcorn. “Thank you” she whispered to Bakugo as the movie started

Hado didn’t get to fully enjoy the movie because she was so busy trying to keep her friends’ soundwaves from reaching the other people in the theater. That was incredibly hard to do considering other soundwaves were bouncing around. She did manage to keep Bakugo’s voice and her voice away from everyone in the theater. They shredded that movie, taking cracks at all of the cheesy lines and terribly designed sets.

The credits began to roll and most everyone started to get up and leave. “Hey I’ve got some paperwork I forgot to finish up” Midoriya spoke up shooting out of his seat. “Let me know if we can do this again sometime” he said and shot out of the room before anyone could even blink. “Yeah I have some work still left for me at my agency. Ochako, would you mind helping out?” Tsu said as the two left the theater. Slowly each of the other heroes managed to find something they had to go do and left Hado and Bakugo alone in the theater. “Don’t tell me you have something else you have to do too” Hado sighed, sounding upset. “I already finished up all of my hero work unlike those losers” Bakugo replied. Hado smiled. “Hey what do you like to do for fun that doesn’t deal with hero work?” She asked curious. She had only ever seen Bakugo do hero work and everything that’s related to hero work.

“I’ll show you. Keep up nerd”

The two of them ended up at batting cages near the outskirts of the shopping district. They were nice batting cages too. Each booth was given a ton of room both to move and for the ball to fly through. “These batting cages were made specifically with quirks in mind” Bakugo explained slipping on a pair of gloves to help with the grip on the bat. “This is where I go on days when it’s raining and the training ground gets soaked” He continued. Hado looked at him very intensely, watching his every move. She watched him get ready for the machine to throw the pitches. He had set the frequency at which the machine shoots the ball higher than normal. Balls started flying out about every second and Bakugo was able to cool hit every single one of them. He wasn’t just strong, he was quick and strong, able to pull back fast enough again to put even more power in each new swing. How could someone make baseball look so goddamn cool.

“I know I’m awesome, but you can pick your jaw up off the floor you nerd” Bakugo’s voice brought her out of her thoughts. Hado shook her head. He started to put up the gloves and bat. “Are you done already?” Hado asked. He had only spent about 5 minutes hitting the baseballs back across the way. “No, I’m not done dumbass. A bat has its limitations” Bakugo replies. Hado put two and two together. “You’re going to use your quirk to propel it” Hado stated. Bakugo didn’t even reply. He just rolled his shoulders and focused. The balls came flying out at an even higher rate but each one was met by a very precisely placed explosion. It was incredible to watch. Not only did he hit every single ball, but he also sent them flying so fast and so far away.

Hado noticed sweat starting to glisten on Bakugo’s forehead. She couldn’t speak because she was so impressed by the display of prowess. These are skills she knew he had but it was different seeing those skills being used on something else. When they sparred, she never really had time to think about how much accuracy he had in his movements. She was always kept on her toes making sure she didn’t get hit. “If you don’t stop staring, I’ll start to think you have a crush on me” Bakugo said uncharacteristically. She turned away and blushed a light shade of pink. Something about it made her feel uneasy. “Is he making fun of me? I know I’m not up to his standards, but does he really have to tease me about that” Hado grappled with her inner monologue.

Bakugo must have notice something was wrong because he looked at Hado confused. “You look like you’re gonna’ vomit. You need to go home?” He asked. Hado didn’t like the feelings she was grappling with, but she also still wanted to spend more time with Bakugo. It was selfish of her, but when was the last time she got to enjoy herself so much? Hado shook off the awful feeling of nausea in her stomach. “No no I’m fine!” She told Bakugo. “Hey since you used your quirk on the ball, can I give it a try?” She changed the subject. “Yeah go ahead but you’re not going to break my record or anything” He teased.

Hado lowered the timing of how often the balls were thrown. She had to concentrate really hard. She had to figure out how strong to make the soundwaves to at least make the ball have backwards motion, then she had to figure out how powerful she could make the soundwaves to see how far and fast she could repel the balls. The first ball shot out. She calculated where it was headed and amplified a test soundwave. She made the ball stop in midair and drop to the ground. “Alright now I know the minimum output I need to send the ball backwards”. The next ball came flying out and this time her soundwave pushed the ball backwards, but it didn’t fly very far or very fast. The 3rd ball flew farther, faster. Each time the ball went a little bit farther and a little bit faster. By the last one, she had been shooting them back as far and as fast as Bakugo had with the bat. She felt slightly accomplished because Bakugo’s hits with the bat were still way over what a normal human could do.

“Not bad. You’ve still got some got some work to do but you’ve shown a lot of improvement over a short amount of time” Bakugo praised. It made Hado feel warm and happy. The compliment made her want to work even harder just to hear Bakugo say something nice about her again. Then she had a thought. There was something she could do that he most likely couldn’t.

“Hey if we’re done here, I have another place I’d like to go. You got to show off here so it’s my turn to show you what I can really do”

“Oh?” Bakugo said, raising one eyebrow. He had no idea where they were going to go, but he’d be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t a least a little bit excited to see what Hado meant.

The two of them ended up at a bar that did Karaoke every night of the week. He sighed heavily. Of course, it was singing. She’s a goddamn sound hero. Singing wasn’t quite his speed, but he would go along with it because…. well because it was Hado. She seemed so excited too. Seeing her smile made him feel like nothing else mattered in the world, as long as he could see that smile. They took a seat at the bar and Hado immediately asked for a shot of whiskey. “Eh? What are you doing dumbass?” Bakugo asked. “Taking one shot gives me just a little more courage to sing sincerely” She said giving him a wink. That was surprising. She normally isn’t this bold. Was she flirting with him? Bakugo was kind of confused. “Did you want anything? I’m paying” She offered. “I’m not much of a drinker” Bakugo replied and asked for a glass of water. She shrugged and walked off to check out the songs on the Karaoke machine. She seemed to find a song she liked and grabbed the microphone ready to sing on the stage.

Things were pretty slow in the bar so it almost felt like a little private performance for him. He threw that thought out into the garbage. He didn’t deserve things like that. He stared intently at Hado as she started to sing. She surprisingly picked an alternative rock song. Bakugo took her for more a pop girl.

“Please don’t mind what I’m trying to say ‘cause I,

I’m being honest when I tell you that you,

You’re part of the reasons I’m set on the rest of my life

Being a part of you

And tell me what you think about

Being open

About being honest with yourself

‘Cause things will never be the sa-aame”

Her voice rang out beautifully. Her eyes were lighting up. She was looking straight at Bakugo with those bright happy eyes. It was so…. Enchanting. Bakugo wondered if maybe she had two quirks considering she had told him that her mother sang like an angel. Hado looked like she was having so much fun even though there were maybe a total of 3 people watching her. It felt like she was only singing for Bakugo. He felt his face heat up ever so slightly, thinking about the words of the song. Surely, they didn’t mean anything. It might have just been one of her favorite songs.

She finished the song but asked the owner if she could keep going considering how slow business was. The owner smiled happily and encouraged her to keep going. He’s probably heard all types of voices, most of them being drunk and not well tuned. Bakugo bet that Hado’s voice was like a breath of fresh air for this guy. And he would have to agree.

She picked a slow song this time with a slightly country twang. Bakugo wasn’t the biggest fan of country but he would give it a try because…. Well, again it was Hado singing it.

“Dear God the only thing I ask of you is

To hold her when I'm not around

When I'm much too far away

We all need that person who can be true to you

But I left her when I found her

And now I wish I'd stayed

'Cause I'm lonely and I'm tired

I'm missing you again oh no

Once again”

The slight tinge of sadness struck a chord in Bakugo. She honestly looked like she was going to cry. He felt the emotions of the song through her voice and her expression. Then something even more amazing happened. Another voice layered on top of hers to create a harmony. She was using her quirk to create her own harmonies. Knowing what Bakugo knew about her quirk, that would take a lot of concentration and control to do something like that. She had already thrown back 3 shots so some of her concentration had to be off.

As Bakugo was stuck in his thoughts, people started to trickle in from outside. They seemed to hear Hado singing and were drawn in. Hado finished up her song and looked around nervously. The owner encouraged her to sing one more song because no one else had signed up yet. Bakugo figured they would probably want to throw back a few drinks before getting up there to sing. It was called liquid courage for a reason.

Hado picked one more song to sing for the now growing crowd. As she began her song Bakugo overheard the conversation between two guys near him. “Oh man her voice is awesome. And she’s pretty cute too. Think she’s taken?”. Something inside of Bakugo threatened to snap. The conversation made his blood boil. “Fucking jerks” he said under his breath. Hado finished up her song and was about to walk off the stage to give someone else a chance. The two men Bakugo heard earlier were talking again. “Oh, dude there she goes. I’m going to see if I can get her number” one guy said and gave his drink to his buddy.

Hado quickly made her way to Bakugo who was grinding his teeth to keep himself from physically hurting the man who spoke earlier. Before she could make it all the way back to her seat, the man who wanted her number tapped her on the shoulder. Bakugo felt like he was going to explode. “Hey, you have an incredible singing voice” The guy complimented her. “Oh thanks… I get it from my mom” She shyly replied. Bakugo could tell she was uncomfortable. He arms were folded in front of her and her eyes were focused on the floor. “Well your mom has one hell of a daughter. Would you mind if I-” the man stopped mid-sentence seeing Bakugo walk up behind Hado and put his arm around her waist. “Mind if you what” Bakugo growled. “Oh uh… um… nothing nevermind. Just wanted to say you were great… um have a good night” he said nervously as he quickly shuffled his way back over to his friend. Hado sighed, relieved. She looked up to Bakugo. She then looked down at his hand still around her waist. Bakugo noticed her staring at his hand and he suddenly let go feeling….self-concious?

“Hey, thank you for that. I have trouble politely telling people to fuck off. Not sure why” Hado admitted. Bakugo had a small thought form in the back of his mind. “What if she’s just hanging out with me because she doesn’t know how to tell me to fuck off?”.

“Hey earth to Bakugo. Let’s get out of here. There’s too many people” Hado said. Bakugo snapped back to reality and walked out of the bar with her, giving those men one last hard glare.

“Was there anything else you wanted to do tonight?” Hado asked sweetly. Bakugo just shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe it’s time for us to just head home” He suggested bitterly. He looked back at Hado and she looked so upset. A pang of guilt hit him right in the chest. Did she still really want to spend more time with someone like him?

“I…. I was really enjoying out time together. We’ve never hung out outside of hero work or training. I haven’t had this much fun with anyone else ever” She bravely admitted. Any doubt he had before quickly left his mind after her confession. “Well…. It’s still getting late. If you want…. I could let you crash at my place” he quietly offered. Hado’s face lit up. There was that smile again, and it felt like all was right with the world again.

The two made it back to Bakugo’s place. He unlocked the door and let her in. It’s a pretty normal looking place. He did have a wall where he hung up articles of him being praised as a pro hero. They sat down on the couch in the front room and talked for hours. They talked to each other about villain busts, and old high school stories. They talked about each other’s goals and dreams. They learned about their favorite colors and music and weather. Bakugo looked at the clock on the wall. “It’s getting pretty late. We should probably rest up. You can sleep in my bed and I’ll take the couch” Bakugo offered. Thinking about Hado sleeping in his bed made him embarrassed but he wasn’t sure why.

“Oh no I can sleep on the couch. I think I’d feel just a little weird sleeping in your bed. No offense to you! Your wonderful and I like being around you and stuff. I just think I’d be more comfortable on the couch” Hado admitted. A small part of Bakugo felt rejected, but he pushed that feeling aside and shrugged. He stood up and started to walk off to his bedroom. “Just let me know if you need anything” he said not looking back. “Oh, hey just one thing!” Hado called. He turned around and she planted a kiss directly on his cheek. His face got hot and his heart thumped hard in his chest. He wasn’t moving, just standing completely still in the middle of the room.

“Oh god did I break you? I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have-” Hado was cut off mid-sentence. Bakugo had quickly grabbed her to pull her close and put his lips on hers. His heart thumped even more loudly in his chest. Every ounce of passion he had been feeling was poured into that kiss. He broke the kiss first and looked at Hado’s blushing face. He smirked realizing that he had caused her to blush like this. She wasn’t moving. “Hey earth to sound girl” Bakugo mocked. She let out a small giggle.

“There’s more where that came from, so you better be careful” Bakugo managed to both tease and threaten. He walked back off to his bedroom. Hado couldn’t believe what just happened, but it was incredible, and she felt like she was on cloud nine. She tucked herself in for the night on the couch. She wondered about what tomorrow would hold.

Chapter 7 Chapter 9

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