#i think im in labor why does it hurt so bad

[casperth3ghost]

i think im pregnant with satan

[marianessheridan]

okay some things I thought about today:

not dreaming of labor is actually extremely stupid because yeah it may not be your dream thing to do in life but it's very privileged and blatantly anti-communist to believe that you'll ever get to live a life of extreme idleness and no contribution to society at all unless you're profiting off other people and just basically living off the capitalist exploitation of people who are doing labor *for* you

I miss my mother every day honestly I just wish we could go for coffee like right now and talk shit about the evangelical church I love my mother why does she have to live like 500 km away from me

life really is full of small pleasures huh... today there was a cute little dog outside the gym in the pet area they have set up there and I just got so happy getting to play with him for 5 minutes it completely turned my day around

also I started thinking about all the things I do with my friends that make me appreciate life so much more... going out to play board games and be extremely competitive about it but in a playful way and going to gym classes with my best friend and watching movies with them and that one time me and a friend had to fight a bat that entered my apartment and all the laughs and cups of coffee and everything... I'm just so grateful for them oh my fucking god I just love my friends so much

it's impressive really the wonders physical exercise and an active social life will do for depression

listening to bad bunny on a sunny Saturday afternoon is just like finding god (I was kinda high on endorphins when I thought this)

I still love her and it still hurts and I'm still here and I'm still fighting for my life like im in the trenches whenever I see her. I wish I could hold her and never let her go again.

sometimes I think I don't really have to share every single thought that goes thru my head throughout the day but like... what fun would that be

[introsquirrel]

Tried to listen to creepypasta, got a mediocre time travel/alternate dimension story instead

It wasn't bad, but it wasn't good either. Solidly like "Huh. ...Anyway-"

Okay to be fair I was listening to a legit creepypasta but it was like off brand "where did the sun go" so yeah I switched to a recommended video thay sounded promising and was..... not...... My first audio creepypasta though was Pen Pal though so maybe I'm just ruined forever

[burnedbyshoto]

the bodyguard

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

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

pairing: bodyguard!kirishima eijirou x idol!reader

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

word count: 20,500

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

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“I’ll be okay.”

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

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

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

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

What had he done?

What in the fucking world had he done?!

BOOM!

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

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

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

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

05:30.

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

Inhale.

Hold.

Exhale.

Better?

No, not yet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“W-Wha—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘Cause I’m a stalker, duh.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Kirishima-kun, are you okay?”

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

“Kirishima-kun?”

“Yo, he’s not looking too hot?”

“Kirishima?!”

“Can you hear us?!”

Silence.

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

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

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

He was okay.

He was okay.

He was okay.

“Kirishima?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

But he was obviously not the first choice still.

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

“Toshinori—”

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

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

He had barely passed the admittance test.

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

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

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

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

“I can do it.”

A smile.

“Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were tiny.

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

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

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

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

“Six months tops.”

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

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

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

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

“...no,” Kirishima answers truthfully.

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

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

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

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

Fuck, that one hurt.

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

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

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

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

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

“Six months,” Kirishima agreed.

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

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

“You got it.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, yes, let’s continue.”

So, the contract was discussed to full detail.

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

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

Or so the contract said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, so much for a good case.

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

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

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

You always managed to sneak away from him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ya, okay, bye!”

“By—”

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

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

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

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

He wanted to be just a fan.

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

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

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

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

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

“You know I can’t do that it’s not—”

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

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

And then there’s only silence.

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

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

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

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

He knew that.

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

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

You were a good person.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...how interesting.

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

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

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

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

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

“Very much.”

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

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

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

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

So much for change.

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

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

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

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

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

It had been a hard morning.

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

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

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

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

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

But today, Kirishima was exhausted.

Today, Kirishima wanted to sleep.

Today… Kirishima broke.

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

You ignore him.

“We’re leaving, now.”

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

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

He grabs your wrist and begins pulling you away.

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

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

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

Oh, right.

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

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

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

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

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

“Compromises aren’t—”

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

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

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

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

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

“Wh-”

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

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

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

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

And for a moment, it’s quiet.

Until a single name is screamed.

“SERGEANT!”

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

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

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

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

The van turns on.

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

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

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

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

T082-23

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

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

Well, shit.

So much for the month of no attacks.

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

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

But they also gave him an essential piece of information.

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

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

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

For now, he was waiting for you.

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

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

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

“Should we go?”

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

“I actually wanted to talk before we left.”

Oh?

“Of what, if I may ask?”

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

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

“Sure.”

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

The contract was then discussed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course, Kirishima.”

“Oh, and y/n?” 

“Yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kirishima stood in the softly lit hallways of a sauna.

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

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

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

Well, everyone but Kirishima, that was.

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

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

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

A stressful month had passed into a friendlier one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I-If that’s okay?”

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

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

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

“No, I’m okay,” you politely decline.

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

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

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

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

“So, what questions do you have?”

“Hm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A pause.

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

A nod.

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

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

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

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

What had happened?

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

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

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

“Was that um, Major—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wasn’t made of glass.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

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

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

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

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

“PERVERT!”

“What?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, his dreams were never like this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kirishima stepped back out to the hot spring.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jenny, are you okay?” you called.

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

“We weren’t fucking you prude!”

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

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

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

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

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

What was he going to do now?

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

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

Bad, Kirishima, bad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That sounds amazing, Kimiko!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whoever it was, pfft.

Kirishima was willing to bet on who it was already.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something.

Anything.

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

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

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

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

He was going to.

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

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

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

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

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

“Ready to move out?”

“We’re all clear.”

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

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

“Damn right I will.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Such a brat.”

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

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

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

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

T082-23.

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

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

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

You really came to life right now.

You were beautiful.

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

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

He was here.

Every warning bell sounded in Kirishima’s head.

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

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

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

Wait.

“What?! Family member?!”

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

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

There was no way you wouldn’t.

Was he wrong?

Who was it?

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

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

Oh fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

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

“...she’s drunk?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was a reason why you were considered a legend.

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

You smile.

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

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

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

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

How were they related?

What connected them?

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

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

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

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

Kirishima panted as he looked before him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was he ready?

Actually ready?

Save her, his past whispered.

Save her, his nightmares screamed.

Save her, his heart yelled.

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

BANG!

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tonight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you resisted and might have been harsher than needed.

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

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

But it was growing late.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frown. 

“Where will you be sleeping then?”

“My couch is just fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, I’ll be leaving—”

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

“Oh, sure!”

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

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

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

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

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

He was relaxed.

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

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

“Really?”

“One hundred percent.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” you grin against his mouth.

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

“No?” he repeats.

“No,” you confirm.

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

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

Menacing, promising, sending chilling shivers down your spine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What does the princess want?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Holy fuck, he could quickly kill you with that.

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

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

And thankfully, Kirishima allows it.

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

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

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

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

It feels like fire.

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

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

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

Slap!

“Hey!”

Slap!

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

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

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

More, you plead.

And he delivers. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who saved you?”

“E-Ei did,” you garble.

“Who’s fucking you?”

“E-Ei is!”

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

“Me! Fuck, me!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he didn’t.

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

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

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

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

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

“I think we do.”

[fanfic-cave]

Injured Pt 1.

Rating: SFW/PG-13

Word Count: 1.6k

Pairing: Subtle hint to Hunter x Fem Jedi!OC

Warnings: Shootout/skirmish, swearing, I might hurt your favorite TBB character dont kill me yet

Summary: You commissioned the bad batch to take you to Dantooine for your own personal mission in search of a Jedi temple. How will this ex-Jedi war veteran trying to hide from the Empire help the rogue clones when they inevitable get caught up in the fight? And who will get hurt?

Authors note: I had this fun idea of writing an action piece with TBB, and I've had some more fun ideas with a Jedi OC getting caught up in their shenanigans. My first draft was kinda long winded, so i'm making this a 2 parter. If this gets well received enough to make me feel more confident in my writing (like 20-30 likes or smthing) ill post part 2 :)

ALSO im a big KOTOR fan so there's the tiniest tiniest hint to that ("jedi temple" and "Bol") with being on Dantooine.

Okay now for real, enjoy!

edit: thanks for the notes! link to pt 2 here

Your speeder zoomed by quickly, passing some local Bol ranchers. Dantooine was full of them, and farms too. The rural planet was actually quite peaceful, that was, until the empire arrived. Now that they were governing over citizens, they began cracking down and enforcing strict trade and farming laws. You interacted with some of the locals, and despite the clone wars being over they didn’t seem to have much love for the new Empire.

The Bad Batch had come to make a supply run, trade for food and fuel on the very small landing station, and also to escort you to Dantooine per your request (you had paid them too). Instead of paying with credits for their supplies, they had to do some “manual labor”, helping the local farmers. Based on how quiet they had been on your comm link, you thought they had been quite busy. You had your own objective here though, one you had just completed. Now you needed to leave.

You got closer to the station, and saw a high count of imperial troopers. You swore under your breath, and suddenly you felt like the items in your pack weighed more, or would suddenly burst into flames. Kyber crystals don’t catch fire, you told yourself. I think.

You pressed your comms and began to speak “I’m en route to the ship, and we’ve got imperials at the station, I hope you’re ready to take off.”

Silence.

“Kriff!” You said aloud. You slowed the speeder to a stop. The strange group of rogue clones were known for finding trouble. You had really hoped they wouldn’t find any while traveling with you.

“Tech, Echo, Hunter? Does anybody copy?”

You heard explosions in the distance.

Kriffing idiots! You shook your head in frustration and put a hand around your vibroblade holstered at your hip. It didn’t take the force to know they were behind this.

“You’re about to have some more company” you heard Hunter over the comms, blaster fire in the background.

“What the hell did you do??”

“Get to the ship, we need to make a fast exit, with or without you.”

More profanities went through your head. You engaged the speeder, faster than you were going earlier. You could hear blaster fire. You had been making a beeline to the ship, prepared to avoid the troopers, but something tugged at your mind.

They’re in trouble. You were a very intuitive person, partially because of your training as a Jedi, and also because that was just in your nature. You thought for a moment, contemplating what action to take.

Trust your gut.

You swerved and headed straight for the fighting. You slipped your mask on, and pulled up your hood. You saw some troopers marching towards the fighting, blasters in hand. They hadn’t noticed you were heading straight for them.

Glad I came to save your asses. You thought. Well, you needed them to pilot, so you were saving your ass too. One trooper turned, and pointed at you. The others started to notice too.

You set the speeder to continue forward without needing your foot on the accelerator, and balanced your feet on the seat. It kept accelerating in speed, heading straight to the center of the 10 or so troopers. Just before their blasters fired, you leaped off the bike gracefully, launching yourself high in the air. The speeder crashed into one trooper, and spun into another 3.

You landed with no problem, and prepared for action. You dodged several blaster shots, and pulled out your vibroblade. You dashed toward a trooper to the left, and cleanly sliced at a weak point in the armor. He clutched his side, and fell to the ground. One came behind you, grabbing your elbow. You shoved your elbow into his face, and heard a crack. He staggered back, and you ducked to avoid another blaster shot, getting a quick slash into the trooper you had just elbowed with a flick of your wrist.

You jumped and did a backflip, effectively avoiding another wave of blaster fire. On your way down, you stabbed another trooper in the side, and grabbed him, using him as a human shield to block more oncoming shots. You sheathed the sword, grabbed his hand holding the blaster, and shot towards an oncoming trooper. He fell down, and you fired at the remaining two who charged, and they were quickly out of the fight. You released the trooper you used as a meat shield. The entire group was now down and injured, not able to fight.

You dropped the blaster and started to run towards the main fight, but then you halted as a thought occurred to you. You crouched down to a fallen command trooper and took his comm links. This might come in handy. You continued forward, shoving the unit in your pack. You resumed your dash towards the source of the previous explosions. You first saw Crosshair, providing cover fire while taking cover himself behind a transport.

“The cavalry’s here” you said on your com link. Next you saw Tech, using two blaster pistols. He was close to Wrecker, who was throwing barrels at a group of troopers. You think they were filled with grain. Hunter and Echo were circling the troopers, trying to get a good flank while Wrecker was effectively distracting them. Hunter spotted you and spoke through comms “What are you doing? Get to the ship!”

You ignored him, and pulled out the blade again. You managed to ambush some troopers and sliced through them easily, taking down 3 in less than a minute. “You should thank me, I just took care of the reinforcements heading this way.”

You saw a knife hit the chest of a storm trooper you were just about to stab through the shoulder. Hunter emerged from behind you and retrieved his knife from the now fallen trooper. Show off, you thought.

“Why didn’t you go to the ship?” Hunter demanded.

“I had a feeling you guys could use the help.” You replied.

He looked at you for a moment after you said this, and with his helmet on you couldn’t get a read on what he was thinking. You thought he might be shocked at what you said. You noticed a trooper approaching you two, lining up a shot on Hunter. You quickly grabbed a stray blaster from a fallen trooper and shot him down. Hunter was quick too; within a second of your shot, he shot another trooper not too far away. He looked back to you, and gave a quick nod in thanks.

“What did you guys do to attract the Empire?” You asked suspiciously.

“Well to put it simply, we severely disabled a facility belonging to the Empire as a form of payment. They appear to be quite agitated with us.” Tech replied through comms.

You ducked to avoid another blaster shot, Echo returned the shot and the trooper fell. “Gee, you think so?” You spoke sarcastically.

“We need to retreat and get back to the ship.” Echo spoke, taking cover a few feet away.

“Where’s Omega?” You interjected. You looked around for her, still not seeing her. “Back on the ship, the mission was too dangerous for her to come.” Hunter replied.

You sighed as blaster shots continued to go off in the background. “What's the plan?” You heard Crosshair speak through comms. He sounded annoyed, but he almost always sounded annoyed to you, amongst other things.

Hunter thought for a moment, and then he addressed the group. “Alright, Crosshair, you’ll provide cover fire while we retreat. We’ll need some more noise too-”

“I’ve got something that can help with that.” You interrupted. “Give me some cover.” You raised up the blaster you had grabbed, then ran over to Tech, firing shots as you went. Hunter and Echo emerged from their cover to fire at the troopers nearby you. Once you arrived you ducked down behind cover and threw the stolen comm link to Tech.

He caught it with both hands. “An imperial com unit?” Tech looked at it curiously, then shifted his eyes to you. “I thought you might be able to use it. Think you can cause some mayhem with it?” You asked curiously. Tech inspected it for a quick moment. “Oh yes, this should work.”

“Alright. Wrecker, Sera, keep the troopers off Tech. Echo and I will try to keep them on us. When Tech gives the signal, we move.” Everyone got their weapons ready, Echo nodded. “No problem!” Wrecker said enthusiastically and gave a thumbs. You also nodded as confirmation that you were ready.

Echo started firing at troopers, Hunter pulled out his knife and began alternating between slashing through troopers and shooting with his blaster. Wrecker was closer to you and actually picked up a trooper and threw him. You provided some cover fire and stayed close to Tech. He was fiddling with the unit.

“How much longer?” You asked after a minute passed. “Almost…” Tech said. You felt a sudden sense of urgency, and lifted your head up, searching around. “Somethings not right-”

Hunter leapt out of cover and ran over to Wrecker, who was laughing and enthusiastically throwing some heavy boxes at the troopers. “Wrecker, get down!”

You heard shots fire, and they were different. Wherever it made contact, there was a small explosion. This was some heavy fire power. The blasts made a sweeping arc. It fired towards Crosshair, who had to roll out of the way. You and Tech ducked as a shot came your way. You were knocked back a few feet from the closeness of the explosion. You lifted your head up and saw Echo was okay, and then you looked for Wrecker and Hunter.

Wrecker managed to avoid getting hit, he was to the right lying on the ground behind cover. Hunter wasn’t as lucky though. It looked like he took some blaster fire, and fell to the ground on his back. He was holding his side, and you saw blood on his hands.

[sloppy-butcher]

Can I pls get B, E, J, K, L, M, O, W, and Y for Oni?

I thirst and I request a quenching. 😫❤️

hope this quenches your thirst. sorry, it arrived so late boos. hopefully, your dehydration has not ended you yet. thank you for your support <3

unfortunately im going to have to cut a few of the prompts off else i’d write forever and it would never end :)

;;edit, pls no more fluffy alphabet request thank you :)

Fluffy Alphabet for The Oni (Kazan Yamaoka)

Beauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

Your face and more specifically your eyes. Ordinarily Kazan avoids contact with other peoples eye-line (most probably because he’d have to look down in order to speak directly into their faces) - he finds it demeaning and has the scars of past ridicules to further distrust him from the intimacy of eye contact. The face holds the purest form of human expression, no one can perfectly hide what they are feeling when it is written so clearly on their mouth, eyes and cheeks. He makes it a point to only look people in the eye when he kills them - there is only fear behind their orbs not disgust or contempt (Kazan remembers all the faces of the warriors and priests, and perhaps even his own wife, who called him a monster, their features etched like stone onto his mind that always fills his heart with hate and loathing).

When in a relationship with you, Kazan grows to enjoy looking into your face. It’s soft there, warm and comforting and he sometimes get lost when gazing for too long. You face was absent with the revile his past held, instead yours was understanding and gentle. it made him feel grounded and human. He feels welcomed in your face and watching as your mouth stretches into a light smile whenever he calls your name replaces all the horrible things in his chest if only for a moment.

Equal - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Oh yeah, he would be the more dominant one. He’s a big guy, he knows what he wants and not matter how to try spin it, he would always end up on top. But he is not overly callous by any means, he rarely commands you to do things and only has one strong rule. You must stay by his side always. And if he is not around, then you stay in the temple. 

He lets you roam around his realm, doing as you wished and allowing you to keep your own free-agency. He even expresses permission for you to shower him in unexpected kisses, never once shying away as you approach him with open arms. 

Kiss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Originally he would be stiff as a board, ridge like unmastered steel. Kazan has never really indulged in the soft intimacies of lovers so kissing is received and given as more of a business transaction rather than a form of physical affection. You would have to teach him to relax into the embrace and to give over to desires and to kiss you truly. It would sure take awhile, requiring a lot of effort on your part to initiate the kiss. 

However once he learns to trust you and deepen the kiss, Kazan becomes quite the good kisser. His smooches are as large and intense as the rest of him is, he always wants more from  you and often cups the back of your head so as to provide support as he tips you over and worms his tongue into your mouth. You are always left breathless. 

The first kiss would be a small peck, a gesture still wrapped in uncertainty and nervousness. Kazan returned from a rather gruesome trial, the total severity of which caused his shoulders to slightly lean downwards and his gait  to be labored and rough. he was beyond exhausted and you could not bring yourself to verbally ask him what was bothering him so bad. So instead you crept up behind him, announcing your presence with a gentle touch of his burgling forearm, a gesture which he acknowledged with a soft grunt. 

You soothe him with a coo and reach a tentative hand upwards to his mask. He remains still, allowing you to do with him as you pleased. You push back the red demon mask to reveal his scarred skin underneath and standing on tip-toes you place an impossible kiss against his jawline. There was nothing to be said, nothing to be done. You had given him the world in that one, small expression of love.

Marriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

Oh yes, most definitely. Marriage to Kazan is the be-all-end-all of relationships. He was married once before but it was presumably arranged. Now with you, someone he genuinely likes and wishes to be with, he most certainly wants to marry you.

But that is easier said than done. Being in the Entity’s realm makes it difficult to arrange such traditional ceremonies, often leaving Kazan to ponder as to how he could make your marriage official. He could ask Plague, she looked rightfully prestigious and proper, but she doesn’t speak any language he understands and walks around with her nose stuck high in the air. Kazan spends the next few days considering all other killers and survivors, trying to guess you would make the binding most legitimate. By the end of a grueling month of tedious contemplation and evaluation, Kazan regrettably gives up and asks if you would be alright not being formally married to him. It breaks him damn heart knowing that you would never officially carry his family name. 

You laugh at his ludicrous endeavor and tell him you don’t care what your relationship is called, as long as you are with him you are happy. He smiles. 

On Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

At the best of times, Kazan rarely allows anyone to idly stare at him. He finds it incredibly disrespectful when people watch him as if he some kind of circus performer - staring is for the confused and not an activity one does in his presence. 

Thus it would take an incredibly vigil eye to notice if Kazan is off or not. Rin, obviously, is the first to comment on his sudden mood change. At her query, Kazan suddenly grins, his chest fills with hubris and he crosses his arm proudly in front of his chest. He proclaims that he has taken you as a partner and that your relationship is most favorable and enjoyable. He gloats about you often to anyone with an ear and he spares no expense in making sure that everyone is aware that you are his. 

Other than that, he is very subtle about his feelings - he often keeps to himself and as a result of this imposed isolation, Kazan has an immense build-up of affection to dispense onto you when at last he sees you again.

Yearning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

He’d miss you terribly. You are his partner, his everything, the moonlight that makes the night just that bit more bearable. If you must go somewhere, why could he not go with? If you had something to take care of, he would surely help you through it. You mean the world to him and being without causes him great stress.

He panics when you are not around, an incredibly worry-wart lives underneath his armor and blood-stained mask. He paces the length of his realm, head fuzzy with all the scenarios his cruel imagination could conjure up in which you hurt yourself - or worse, die. He can't think straight, can't concentrate - all his thoughts lie with you and your unknown safety.

[kyogre-blue]

tanatola

and tbh charles working for a decade as the sole bartender without any waiters or days off aside from when the owners magnanimously take on shifts when it suits them… just looks like typical ‘we should be grateful for what we have’? i guess maybe i was just rubbed the wrong way by diluc’s story quest when he’s like ‘im working alooone’ while also making tons of his staff cover his ass while he’s off batmaning, master diluc look up what ‘alone’ means pls - i DONT think any of this is on purpose

That’s a fair interpretation. 

But I think it’s largely simpler to consider Diluc separate from the Winery. He’s never actually run it. It was under Crepus, who is discussed as still being in his prime when he died, and then it was under Elzer and the rest of the staff when Diluc left Mondstadt immediately after Crepus’s death. Diluc does some stuff now that he’s returned, but Elzer says that he has no interest in it, and I think a lot of it can be read as Diluc using the winery as cover for his vigilante stuff. (Like him meeting Snezhnayan merchants, from the story about him drinking Fire-Water and passing out for three days. They’re Snezhnayan, so he was probably checking for Fatui involvement.) 

Rather than them covering his ass, Diluc was simply never part of the winery’s business model to begin with. Now, you can definitely discuss the inherent issues with capitalism allowing him to hold a privileged position by virtue of owning the capital but never needing to work to accrue wealth from it, but that’s a far broader discussion and not something MHY or Diluc have ever considered, I would expect. 

...Diluc is a freeloader, I guess. 

Discussing Charles’s working conditions is a bit complicated because we don’t really know what bartending Angel’s Share entails. It seems to have historically been a one-person job, since Diluc also does it alone when he takes over. Charles also only mentions hiring a waitress to improve the customer experience, not because he feels overwhelmed (that he directly says, at least). We don’t even know what hours Angel’s Share operates, since it obviously doesn’t actually work 24-7 like the game shows, or what services it offers. (It seems like they only just started adding basic snack food to the menu?) 

We don’t know if/how his days off are handled either. He just says they’re precious, but logically speaking, he must be taking some time off somewhere and would have been doing so in the past. He doesn’t say that the days when Diluc works are his ONLY days off, iirc. Also, not to be Like That, but he could just quit. There are other bars in the city. Cat Tail is the one we see, but there’s no way it’s just the two. 

But if we want to discuss how people work to excess in Mond, if anything, I think the discussion would be in regard to their unhealthy cultural attitude toward labor. 

For example, Michelle in her commission. She is a windmill keeper, but she also agrees to help out Quinn at his fruit stand. When her back starts to hurt, she asks us to let him know she’ll be late. We voluntarily help out instead and then report to her that she doesn’t need to go help Quinn. 

Paimon: There's nothing to do at Quinn's today anyway, go home and rest up.

Michelle: Really... *sigh* Looks like I should find something else to do...

Paimon: What? You're not going to take a sick day!? Take the chance while it's there!

Michelle: Stop and feel what is happening all around you. That's Lord Barbatos' winds, still hard at work.

Michelle: We are blessed by Barbatos. It is not a privilege we should take lightly — we all need to do our part.

Michelle: As for your part... What have you been doing? Why are you sweating so much?

Michelle: It seems that you are very busy yourself. But this is not a bad thing, for the more we toil, the more we sweat, and the more keenly we feel the winds of Barbatos.

So we tell her there’s no need to work that day, since she’s not feeling well, and she decides to go find another job instead. Because laboring more helps you feel the blessings of Barbatos more, or something. 

Vind is like kind of like this too. Her family has been charged with keeping watch at Stormbearer Point, and she’s willing to just directly walk into a bunch of hilichurls to do her job. People are also out there getting attacked by hilichurls and still keep at it. 

It’s probably linked to the idea behind Windblume Festival -- that you need to face your personal issues by your own efforts. If taken too far, this becomes a self-damaging refusal to ask for help or admit defeat. 

[ironwoman18]

Garvez Moments Part 11

Chapter 11: Hurricane Andrew

“Where is Luke?!” asked Penelope in between contractions “he promised to be here when our baby arrives”

“He’s still in Florida” said Max “there’s a hurricane”

24 hours earlier

“Ok I will order the food while you pick the movie” said Penelope from the couch and with a big baby bump. Her doctor was worry because she developed a high risk pregnancy so the last month will be at home.

Luke took care of her as much as he could due to his job, and when he cannot, Max and her sisters helped. The art teacher and now member of the Smithsonian’s team had more free times than Luke or Spencer so she was there for the former TA of the BAU.

But this last week Luke asked for a few days off to watch over her. And now they will have a relaxing Tuesday afternoon.

“Sounds perfect, I think I will pick a nice movie so Andrew learn what he should be watching”

Penelope rolled her eyes “you mean Richard? Because that will be his name” they decided to know the gender of their baby so they could have the perfect bedroom for him or her.

They gave the letter to Dave and Krystal so they organized the baby shower and let them know. When the blue cupcake was revealing… the battle began.

Penelope wanted her dad’s name and Luke wanted his, so when they talked about the baby, they used the name they wanted and that started fights between them.

“Whatever… I will find the perfect movie” Luke said irritated but did not want to continue because it might put him and his beloved wife in a fight.

Penelope ordered their favorite Thai food, they had been together for a year and a half and he learned to love her food choices and she still has struggles with his, because of the meat products but respect him.

His phone started to ring “oh hell no… I told Emily I will be busy with you and I can’t answer”

“Babe… your job needs you and I’m sure a poor woman is in need because a horrible man is hurting her”

He sighed but answered “hey Emily”

“Oh hey Luke… I’m soo sorry, I know you asked me for a few days off and I know Penelope needs to be in bed for the rest of the ninth month but I really need you here”

“Why? You have JJ, Spencer, Dave, Tara and Matt”

“Actually Matt is sick and JJ sons are sick and Will is in New Orleans” he sighed “and Tara is visiting her father… So I will need you”

“Ok I will be there in a few minutes” he said and hung up “I will ask Max if she can come here while I’m out”

“It’s ok honey. I will call her while you are getting ready” he nodded and kissed his cheek then she got out her phone and call Spencer’s wife. They talked for a while. And Max accepted to be there in ten minutes.

When Luke was ready, he walked out of their room “did you talk to Max?”

“Yes, she accepted to come. It will take her some minutes to be here so you can go to catch the bad boys” she smiled at him “Call me please” he nodded and leaned in to kiss her.

“I love you”

“I love you too” he smiled and left the house.

Present day

“A hurricane?!” almost screamed Penelope “I shouldn’t let him go!” she said a little frustrated.

“I know the feeling, I’m worry about Spence too but we have to wait” said Max holding her hand “trust him, he will be here as soon as he can”

15 hours earlier

“Ok so the unsub is killing black men?” Luke asked and the policeman nodded,

“They are all in good shape and they are young, maybe in their 20s or 30s” commented him “according to the forensic doctor he killed this men with a knife”

“And when did this start?” asked Spencer.

“Two weeks ago”

Spencer’s brain started to work; if you paid close attention to the boy genius you could see and hear it working. He looked at his coworker and the policeman “the hurricane started two weeks ago according to the weather channel”

Luke started to realize what his partner meant “you think this man is doing this because of the hurricanes?”

“In the past the Aztecs, Greeks, Romans, Egyptians and Incas thought that there was a god that can control weather. So to ask for their good will they used sacrifices to please him. Maybe this man thinks he’s doing the same”

“Maybe it’s time to give the profile” he said looking at the dead man in front of them.

They said that the unsub could be a man in his 20s or 30s, he could be in good shape and very athletic like his victims. He could have polytheistic cultures knowledge and think he is saving Florida because of the sacrifices he is doing. When he realized that they are not working, he will scale and kill more people. They had to stop him sooner.

Present day.

JJ arrived at the hospital, they gave Penelope a room and they are waiting for her time to give birth. She found Max outside with her phone.

“Hey Max, thankfully Will arrived and I could come here” she said to her “where are my godson and goddaughter?”

She smiled “with their grandfather and aunt. They accepted to watch them while I was with Penelope. But now im worry. Spencer doesn’t answer and neither does Emily nor Luke”

“I called Ashley, you know the new TA and she said they were having trouble with their phones due to the hurricane but thankfully they capture the bad guy so they are waiting for the hurricane to move away so they can return”

“Oh thank God…” said the brunette smiling “how are Henry and Michael?”

“Better… they had a cold but I always am worry with Michael especially since Henry had a convulsion when he was about Michael age”

“Oh my… but I’m happy they are better” the blonde smiled.

“I will go see Penelope, you see if you can call Ashley to ask her for them” she nodded and JJ left to talk to her female best friend.

5 hours earlier

The hurricane was getting worse and the unsub had his last victim, this time he captured a woman, younger and beautiful “I’m sure this time the gods will forgive us! I was wrong about using men” he had a crazy look in his eyes.

Before he moved his knife to her throat the team arrived. Spencer was next to Luke holding his gun. He could not help but went to the field to help. He looked at the knife; it was clearly a sacrificial one.

“Back off! I have to save us with this sacrifice!” said him holding the knife.

“Enrique Diaz, I can’t let you kill this woman, it won’t stop the storm” said Spencer with a calm voice “she isn’t the solution”

“How do you know?”

Spencer thought quickly “Because I saw a prophecy” he said putting down the gun, playing along with the unsub “the storm will stop in 6 hours…”

“Because that’s the time a soul takes to arrive to the gods’ palace”

“No, this woman will take longer because she isn’t as pure as you think” he looked at the scared woman, she was confused but decided to remain silence “if you stop killing it will prove them you are committed to let them do their judgement”

“Their judgement?” Spencer nodded “so they won’t stop…”

“No” the man had some tears and dropped the knife. Luke immediately ran to capture the man and spencer helped the victim.

Dave and Emily were at the other door as backup if the killer got crazy.

The rest of the time they stayed at the hotel waiting for the hurricane to past that part of the city.

When it happened the team was able to fly back to Washington DC as fast as the plane could. After the plane touched the land they all left to the hospital just in time to see Luke find out his son was about to arrive into this world.

The nervousness started to run thru his veins. Will be him a good father? Will he be a good support for his wife and son?

“babe you are here” said Penelope after he walked in and sat next to her.

“Yes… I’m sorry chica… a hurricane didn’t let me to be here earlier” he said with a smile “I wish it didn’t happen so I can be here with you”

“its ok my love” she kissed him softly then the doctor started to order her to push. The all peace and love Penelope disappeared and the angry and aggressive one started to treat him to dead for leaving her almost 7 hours in labor while he was in Florida.

Luke knew this was not his chica so he ignored it, she calmed and asked for forgiveness, she was just in so much pain.

A new contraction started and the aggressive woman reappeared “New guy!! You ruined my life… I won’t have another kid with you!”

“You are doing good Penelope. One more and your baby will be here” the doctor said. The couple nodded.

A few seconds later Penelope pushed one more time and they could hear a new kind of cry, the cry of a new person in the world, the cry of their baby boy.

The nurse cleaned him and covered him with a blanked. Then they checked his weight and size.

“You did it great chica, I’m very proud of you” he kissed her forehead.

“Thank you for be here and for helping me with this” she smiled and kissed his cheek then the nurse arrived with the baby.

“Here’s your baby, does he have a name?”

They nodded and when Luke was about to talk Penelope did it first “Andrew Ricardo Alvez Garcia” she smiled and looked at the nurse who smiled and left.

“Andrew? I thought you wanted a different name”

“Yes but you sacrificed a day off to work and you are our hero so that’s your price for doing the right thing, even if that means you weren’t around for a day”

He had some tears and but smiled “I received a lot of recognitions but this is the best I ever get” he kissed his son head “hey buddy. Daddy is here” he smiled big and enjoy his time with his family.

After some more minutes he walked out of the room, all the team and some member of their families were there.

“A new baby boy joined the BAU family. Andrew Ricardo Alvez Garcia” they all smiled and hugged the new father. Kristin handed him a present for the baby and so did the rest of the team.

“You know what is curious?” said Spencer to him “I just heard that the storm we were in its path a few hours ago was named Andrew as well”

“Well my son will be a hurricane then” he laughed and hugged the family he made in the last few years. The members of the BAU were his family in DC.

OOooOOooOO

I hope you liked it. I wasn’t sure what to do exactly for this baby, I had the idea of the hurricane but didn’t want to repeat a case like the one where the unsub was building a body.

This idea of the “old gods” came to me as I was writing; I hope it’s a good M.O. and a “good” reason to kill during a hurricane.

Suggestions are open. Also my stories post season 15 are connected so in this interconnected world The Worst Third Date Ever, Our Most Wanted Date, Double dates and this one are connected and details of Maxcer and the new TA are in the first story, and the evolution of Garvez are in the rest of the stories.

[smallblueandloud]

okay i’m back again— SO i was rereading your tww sense8 au posts, as one does, and there’s so many THINGS IM DYING TO EXPLORE. but. um. i forgot some. i’m the worst sorry! BUT: this. “if marriage equality existed at the time, they’d have probably gotten married and toby would’ve had a Crisis about it” WHAT WOULD THIS HAVE BEEN LIKE I WANT MORE OF THIS. i love them so much. i wrote my first cjandy fic and THEY KISSED it was euphoric. ALSO 4x20 IN THIS VERSE. pls talk about any of this, whenever!!

HI BRO IT’S BEEN LIKE THREE MONTHS SINCE YOU SENT ME THIS BUT I’M STILL RIDE-OR-DIE FOR THIS OT3 SO I’M ANSWERING IT NOW!!

look. not to be that person, but toby is an insecure kind of guy. i love him but he is. he’s sad, and he’s quiet, and you know the reason why andy’s breakup conversation to him (in her dream house, right before she went into labor) broke her heart so much was because she knew how much she was hurting him. he’s used to being alone and he doesn’t LIKE it but i think he’s at the point where he wouldn’t be SURPRISED, you know?

this is all to say that he doesn’t do so great, when everything is tense and cj refuses to even be in the same room as him but will kiss andy in the psycellium for some reason. He Doesn’t Cope So Well, understandably. this is worse in an au where marriage equality exists.

presumably we’re working with an au where marriage equality is at about the same level as it is today -- so couples of varying genders can be legally married, but no polycules. in this case, we have cj less concerned about being seen with andy in public and more concerned with being seen with toby and andy in public. i’m guessing she’s still cagey and therefore the disintegration still happens (honestly, i want to say toby and andy would’ve fallen apart no matter if cj had stayed or not, but that’s a whole other discussion), which means andy is therefore available when cj finds herself living in DC with two (2) acquaintances she doesn’t work with (and the other one is her brother’s college roommate, so the choice is easy).

see i just think andy and cj get along in a way that andy and toby just DON’T. they’re both pragmatic, although cj will get caught up in her emotions if she’s not careful and andy is always ready to drop everything to start a fight. toby isn’t either of those -- toby will just stand his ground for what he believes in, no matter how people try to convince him otherwise, and this is why toby works very well as a second in command and would make a very bad leader in anything besides speechwriting. (i finally talked myself into cj being chief of staff, as you might be able to tell.) (this, btw, still means andy could’ve been the shuttle leaker -- ready to start a fight with the bartlet administration about the pointlessness of military secrets if they can’t use them to save people -- but that’s a whole different issue. the main reason why it makes sense for it to be andy and not toby is that toby is, above all, someone who’s thrown in his lot with josiah bartlet, and that means he will STAND WITH HIM in public no matter how MUCH he disagrees in private. okay seriously i’m trying not to discuss the shuttle leak here. ahem. GAYNESS.)

what this means is that toby gets into arguments with both cj and andy very easily, because he’ll dig in his heels and ignore them throwing every argument they’ve got at him and god can you imagine how frustrating that is. but cj and andy make a very good team, good at compromising, good at showing affection (toby tends to lock up when he’s in a mood), and really good at choosing movies for movie night. (they DO burn things whenever they try to cook together -- toby and cj are the family cooks when they’re all living together -- and andy, like toby, doesn’t speak the language of the press the way cj does, but for the most part they work very well together.)

this is a really long description to say that, yeah, i think if we were in an ideal world, andy and cj would make the best married couple. it wouldn’t be a good IDEA for them to get married, because toby would NOT take it well and obviously you don’t want to get married if it’s going to hurt your other partner in the way it would hurt toby.

also?? i just want to say you’re a genius because i had never considered the angst potential of 3x21 (edit: completely misjudged the season whoops) in the sense8 au but oh MAN it’s painful. i’m torn between my love of that shot of cj sitting alone in her gown while times square streams past her -- versus a similar shot, except toby and andy are psychically sitting on either side of her, with toby’s hand on her back and andy’s hand on her leg. LIKE?? THE ANGST POTENTIAL IS OUT OF THE PARK HERE Y’ALL, I NEED EVERYONE TO GET WITH ME ON THIS.

the image that won’t leave my head is toby, pale and shocked next to sam celebrating the motorcade maneuver, and at some point sam turns to him and asks “are you okay?” and toby, feeling cj’s pain and feeling pain for her, says “yeah” because what ELSE can he say??? pain. pain is good. thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[skribbz]

i know im sending u tons of these but ELLIE

Oh boy here we go

First impression

I actually didn’t know anything about TLoU before I played it except for it being a zombie game. Since zombies have always been a super special interest for me, I had to play it. So actually playing it was like being smacked in the face with emotions. 

But I didn’t even know about the existence of Ellie, so my first time seeing her was when Joel meets her. I thought she seemed cool, but a little abrasive. She did make me laugh though. 

Impression now

Oh god where do I even start. 

I’m not even exaggerating when I say Ellie helped me become who I am today. I related to her in so many ways. Not just in the way she's so nerdy, but also in how she treats others. She was just a kid who was let down by the world around her, yet she still wants to do what she thinks is best for everyone. She's sentimental, holding onto keepsakes from the people she's lost. She can have a bad attitude sometimes, but is just a complete sweetheart. She goes through so much, and even when Joel gives her the option to just go back home, she decides to keep going. 

Ellie came into my life when I needed a role model. The way she had gone through so much, but didn't let it break her soul, the way she always found a way to "endure and survive", meant so much to me at the time, and even now. She also helped me accept the fact that I wasn't straight. Seeing a character who I already admired so much, kissing another girl made me just break down crying. 

When they said that Ellie was going to be the main character of the second game, I cried again. I think the second game just really expands on the reasons I loved her in the first one. She still tries to do what she thinks is best. It's not always the right thing, and sometimes it's very much the wrong thing. But she has so much guilt over Joel, yet still loves him so much she's willing to do whatever it takes to give him the justice she thinks she deserves, even if she knows it's not at all what he would want her to do. (There's so much more to her thoughts and actions in the sequel of course, but I feel like this is one of the most important ones.) It's just like the first game where she's willing to go to any ends to do what she thinks is right, no matter how much it may hurt her in the process. 

I think in the end she has realized that her life means more than just being the cure. Her life matters just because she’s alive, is loved, and loves others, and that message means a lot to me, and I’m sure to many others, too. 

I think Ellie is such a wonderful character, and one of the most well written characters I've ever seen in any media. She really changed my life, and because of that she is my favorite character ever. 

Favorite moment

HOW am I supposed to choose just one. 

Does the entire winter section count? It shows much she loves Joel, and how strong she has become by that point, and how determined she is to survive. She sees just how truly awful some people in the world can be, and despite it she still wants to do whatever she can for the cure.

It’s our first look into what would become a major theme of the second game. While David’s town is an enemy to Joel and Ellie, and we as players hate them, they were doing what they thought was best to survive. Cannibalism isn’t right by our standards, but that’s because we haven’t been pushed to that point. But would we be willing to turn to it if we were pushed that far? Is it more acceptable to kill innocent people to feed a whole community that’s depending on you, or is it more acceptable to just let all of those innocent lives that are depending on you die?

I think we can all agree on one thing though. David is a piece of shit and deserved to be chopped up into teeny pieces. 

Idea for a story

I have many ideas. But I'll go with where I think her story can go from here, AKA my TLoU3 idea. 

The story starts 12 or so years later. Putting JJ around 13. Dina, Ellie and Abby 32-33. Lev around 25. Tommy and Maria probably late 50s-early 60s

Ellie is back in Jackson. She works her ass off doing whatever manual labor she can because all she wants to do is just work herself into exhaustion. She's dealt with her trauma and she’s in a better place mentally now. Now her reasons for shutting everything out is that she’s too scared to try and really reconnect. She wants companionship but is afraid of the pain of losing it all again.

The exception is when she has JJ. He is still the light of her life. She takes him hunting and camping and plays video games with him and they geek out over comics. She has taught him to draw. She wants to teach him guitar like she promised, but hasn’t been able to yet. 

The only time she sets foot outside of Jackson is with JJ.

Dina is of course doing something that uses her skills. Maybe the lead electrician at the dam. They've kept JJ very innocent. Obviously he knows of the infected, and has seen his moms kill them before, but he doesn’t know just how bad it really is, he’s never seen another human die.

Her and Ellie are amicable. They are happy to be co parenting jj but there's nothing between them (for now). 

Maria holds a lot of guilt. Over sending Joel and Tommy out that day, over not giving Ellie and Dina help in Seattle, which got Jesse killed, over letting Tommy get as bad as he did after Seattle. She blames herself for the way Ellie is. She tries to spend time with Ellie, but Ellie is very elusive when she wants to be. She adores JJ though. That's her little great nephew. His auntie is the leader of the whole town and he uses that to his advantage every chance he gets. And she lets him.

Tommy has a little guilt. He doesn’t know Abby is alive, Ellie only ever told him she “finished things” and didn’t talk to him much after that. But he sees how she is a complete mess and lost her fingers. He knows that guitar was special for Ellie, plus any kind of disability is a huge disadvantage in their world. Dina doesn’t let JJ near him. JJ doesn't understand why and no one will tell him

Tommy and Maria never worked out their differences and have stayed separated, partly because of their guilt toward what happened with Ellie. They cared about her like she was their own and they both let her down

Jackson is now huge. They’ve made contact with other settlements, and have trade routes. But Maria is getting older and the town is getting too much for her to run on her own. Tommy is getting up there in age as well, and despite his injuries he still does patrols. But alone. He’s not actively trying to get killed, but he isn’t always as careful as he knows he should be. 

Story starts out and you're playing as Tommy on patrol. He gets ambushed by a small group of people. And lo and behold Abby (and Lev) is there. Tommy is shocked when he finds out who it is, and he asks if she came to finish the job she started. She says no they tracked him since he left the town and were waiting to get him alone because she has news for him. The fireflies have rebuilt stronger than ever and now they’re back out for the cure and are coming for Ellie, because she is the only known source, but also as a form of revenge for what Joel did all those years ago, destroying what the Fireflies once were. They were able to get there first because they only brought a few people and set out before the main squad. Tommy asks why he should believe her, and she says that Ellie saved her life years ago and it's the least she could do to pay her back. (just like. Assume that there was enough info stored with the fireflies that Abby could work out who Ellie is). To keep Tommy from attacking or following him, they knock him out and untie him then leave. 

Control switches back to Ellie who is doing her chores around town. You get to nail fences, chop wood, and carry hay bales. Fun. Later that night, as Ellie is getting home, standing on her porch, Tommy rolls up and confronts Ellie about Abby being alive. They get into a huge fight and Ellie tells Tommy that he fucked up her life. It's his fault she lost Dina. His fault she only gets to see jj when Dina allows it, his fault Jesse was killed. And its his fucking fault Joel died.

He storms off. But then Ellie notices J standing on the street coming to stay the night. She had forgotten this was her night with him. He’d been told his whole life that moms had a peaceful break up, and that dad and grandpa Joel died being heroes, but now he’s upset about what he's heard so he runs back home to Dina. 

That night Ellie is woken up by fighting in Jackson. She runs out to try and find what's going on. All she can get is that fireflies are attacking. She eventually finds out that some travelers shot Maria and a fight broke out. Ellie fights through the town to Maria. She's injured with a gunshot in the arm, but alive still and kicking some ass. She tells Ellie that fireflies came asking for her, and would leave peacefully in return. She told them no and they shot her. Maria says she’ll be okay and tells Ellie to go find JJ and get him to safety. 

She fights through to the other side of town. Because of the commotion, infected have broken in so there’s humans and infected running around killing. She gets to Jesse's house and JJ is hysterical, Dina is holding him down and he's like screaming and crying. His grandpa fought off a firefly who was trying to get in their home and was shot and killed. It hits Ellie that this is all her fault. People are dying because of her again. Anyway she tells dina and robin that they need to leave. Dina says she's not going anywhere without Ellie. Ellie wants to stay and fight, but JJ is more important right now. So the 4 of them sneak out and near the gates they meet up with Tommy. He’s helping get people out and sending them to one of the patrol lookouts that is secure and can fit everyone. 

Ellie sends Dina, Robin and JJ off. Ellie gives JJ Joel's revolver and tells him to keep mom and grandma safe for her. She goes back to Tommy and the two get back to Maria. When they are very close to her, an infected ambushes them and Tommy gets bit. They get to Maria who is losing blood fast and doesn't look well. After a lot of arguing from Ellie, the pair decide to stay. They tell Ellie they’re old now. Maria wont last long with her wounds, and tommy has no chance of surviving his. They apologize to Ellie for the way things turned out and how much she has meant to them all these years. They give her all their ammo except for one bullet in each of their guns, because that's all they need now. Ellie begs them to come along, and she’ll figure something out for them. But they eventually convince her to go. Ellie leaves crying, and Maria and Tommy maybe get a cute moment before cutting back to Ellie. 

Ellie makes it back to where the survivors are and is depressed that there's way less than she was expecting. JJ has cried himself to sleep and Dina notices Ellie is acting strange and pulls her away to ask her. Ellie tells her what happened and Dina holds her while she cries. It's the first time anyone has really been physically affectionate with her in a long time so Ellie clings to her as she lets it all out

The last survivors decide that Jackson isn’t safe. It's too damaged, filled with infected, and no one can figure out what the fireflies were doing. Ellie can't bring herself to say anything about it. 

The next morning, everyone wakes up and is discussing what to do. JJ is still inconsolable. Ellie decides to take him away from the group to get some fresh air. She tells him to hold on to Joel's revolver. They chat and JJ asks what happened to auntie Maria and Tommy. She decides to be honest with him. She expects him to cry, but is shocked to see him become angry instead. He basically swears revenge for them and for his grandfather. This of course stirs up a lot of very negative thoughts in Ellie, but she decides to let him grieve in his own way for now. 

That’s everything I have written out in detail for now. But the main idea would be Ellie becoming a leader to the few remaining survivors as they make contact with the other settlements that Jackson is allied with. She would take responsibility for all of these lives. They would be her reason for fighting now. 

Over the course of the game, Abby would come back and her and Ellie would be forced to team up. There’s no more animosity between the two though, they’re both over it and don’t want to go back down that road. Over the course of the story they would come to understand each other’s actions. They wouldn’t become friends, but they can at least rely on each other. 

JJ would find out that Abby is the person responsible for Joel and Jesse’s death, and she came from the group that killed his grandfather, Tommy and Maria. He’d go into a rage and try to attack her and Ellie would have to hold him back. He wants to know why Ellie is defending the person who hurt everyone they loved. Ellie would have to finally tell him the whole story, and try to keep him from giving into his anger and sadness like she did in the second game. She won’t let her son become like her. She wants him to stay her innocent baby boy, but she knows that’s just not possible in their world. 

Other stuff that I have yet to flesh out:

More about Dina’s backstory. Or at least her last name. 

Lev being a big brother to JJ.

Dina and Ellie falling in love all over again as Dina sees Ellie doing so much for the rest of the community. It’s gonna be emotional.

Ellie teaching JJ how to play guitar, and tearfully singing Future Days to him.

Unpopular opinion

I’m not sure of what people’s opinions on her are. I know most people love her and anyone who doesn’t isn’t entitled to an opinion. 

I guess one is I’m not a fan of her farm hairstyle. Her Seattle look was just so cute. Why did you do that to your head, girl. 

Favorite relationship

Dina of course.

I feel like Dina represented what Ellie could have if she wasn’t stuck in the past. Joel represented her violent past, and her traumas. Dina represented her future, her home, her family. Ellie was so stuck in the past, that she couldn’t see the future standing literally right in front of her. 

It’s a great representation of how she holds onto the people she loves, but also how PTSD works. The past keeps coming back to haunt her. 

Favorite headcanon

I hc her as autistic! I kinda feel bad because everyone else hcs her as having ADHD. But I’m autistic so I say she is too *sunglass emoji*. 

Why I think she’s autistic: 

Obviously her special interests would be space and dinosaurs, and the way she talks about them reminds me of how I get when people let me infodump about my SIs.

The way she plays with her fingers looks hella like stimming to me. In fact, that’s one of my stims!

Her interest in art and music.

Her interest in general nerdy stuff like comics and video games. 

She collects cards, and collecting is a big autistic trait.

The way she’s sort of untidy and cluttered, yet labels all of her boxes of shit. The ordered mess is such an autistic thing.

[4deathme]

Ok, let me start off by saying this, actually i had began writing journal starting from 1:23am and i had already wrote more than 6 paragraphs of the journal from the month of July despair. I have to write again now starting over again. What a pain in ass.

Alrighty, right now its 2:39am as i am writing these sentence.

It was July 22nd, Thursday, around 5:20pm i texted her long texts asking for forgiveness, acknowledging my mistakes. After lots of texts she finally responded to me at 6:14pm. She wrote a long text too explaining that i had hurt a lot and as she was trying to deal with her past trauma and was tryna fix herself too. She said that she need some time as she's overwhelmed by the current negative situations. She said that she had cried enough for the day. Although she said that she forgave me but also reminded me that i wasn't getting the same version of her like before.

I felt bad but i could understand because the amount of pressure i was giving to her weeks ago. Anyways, we were having good conversation after that, she was tryna lift me up by saying that i need to move on forward and then have a proper meal and sleep. She still cared about this stupid boy after all. She said that she’ll be forgiving me under one condition, and the condition was for my own benefit. I had to get better from the depressing state i was living in. She cared bout it still, yet fool like me always wanted more than anything. She texted me till 1:34am and then i got no response, she might have fallen asleep but yet i dared to call her twice.

Following the next day 23rd July Friday, I wished her in the morning and she responded at 11:23pm, our conversation was casual, she was getting ready to go out to her fam’s cafe to help her brothers out as she does every Fridays and Saturdays. After textin her ‘yello’ around 5:40ish, I just simply waited for her texts. She replied to me at 7:20pm something like that. She replied that her day was quit boring when i asked how her day went.

I reminded her that she was gonna call me tonight, which she declined by saying that she only said that she might. I was quite sad to heard that but i knew i could do nothin. If only that i night i wouldn’t have been drinking things would have gone in right direction. But as you know careless stupid drunkard never learns his lesson.  

From 8-9pm we were both talkin about this and that about my current health and situation and at 9:46pm I texted her if i could ask her something, she said ok but then again i hesitated to ask her, she asked me what was it but then i just dismissed it by saying ‘it was nothing’ and her last hands on a face emoji. (The thing i wanted to ask her was, if i could get a one last chance to resolve broken love of the tales of Yuno and Yuki. I just wanted her back, i wanted to tell her so much that, never had i ever missed her voice, her laugh, her smile, her everything. It felt like i was in drugged into love.  

And then it happened, around 11:38pm i started to annoy her more by texting and calling her.. little did i knew that she was actually sleeping and i was pissing her off. The thoughts of day labor at her fam’s restro didn’t seemed to occurred to me at that time, if it had came across my mind i would have thought about it lot but i just simply forgot it. She then responded furiously telling me how i could not think bout that she was sleeping. And idk why the fuck i started to babble about my feelings. Instead of apologizing and just wishin her goodnight i kept on babbling about my feelings and heart. She voice texted me too, and she sound genuinely pissed off. Yet to make things even more worse i started to talk about that my love was never fake and shit, and telling her that i was ready to meet her parents and marry her. Fuckin stupid ass drunkard me i hate myself for my own mistakes. That was the only time that i could have ever repent from my wrong doings but again no, fuckin miserable chap like me never gets his lessons.

Yah she got mad, she told me that i never understand my lessons and that i had just ruined her sleep. She told me to stop talking and let her sleep and that she was losing her mind bcus of me, yah that was the last text i received that night at 11:57pm. While me i just texted her until it was 4:56am in the morning and then finally im sorruuu text around 7am before going to sleep.

That was it after that. When i woke up in the evening and went thru my phone to check if i got any texts but then i saw that she had blocked me. It was quite like living in despair. It was not her fault at all, it was mine shit. I couldn’t fukcin handle myself. I was losing myself. I was numb. I was depressed. She was the only hope, the only light i felt while i was into the darkness and yet i fuckin blew it up in 2 single fucking night.

Wondering alone at the night in the street, reality and dreams steal my feelings and everything seems to have ended when it just begins. I'm in the abyss and she can’t see me. Should I let go and forget the past? I feel like I'm falling and the night is more darker than before. I feel so exhausted.

Current time before post : 3:49am

TO BE CONTINUED  

[megan1412]

Its Time

Cynthia goes into labor and John and Paul become parents to their third child.

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

The drive is tense and quiet. They had just gotten the call that Cynthia was in labor, and was at the hospital. Paul begins to tap the steering wheel, a habit John hates.

"Paulie, do you have to do that?" John asks with an annoyed tone.

"Leave me alone!" Paul snaps back at a startled John.

"I know your anxious love, but you know I HATE it when you tap. Its bloody awful!" John whines.

Paul speeds up slightly, continuing to tap. John just sits back and groans. Then he begins to mess with a button on his jacket. The button was his favorite to mess with, and it was nearly torn off. The flicking makes Paul nearly go feral.

"Alright, we're both anxious! I just want to see our baby now. Its been nine months and Im ready!"

"Yeah... I wonder what the gender will be."

They decided to wait and see what their baby's gender was. Cynthia knew, but she promised not to tell. The rest of the ride was aggravating, the tension growing as they continued to annoy each other.

"Stop. Fucking. TAPPING!" John yells at a now infuriated Paul.

Paul suddenly stops the car and pulls over to the side of the road. John braces for the worst.

"Do you want me to turn this car around and let us miss the birth of our child Lennon?" Paul says bitterly, his face reddening.

John simply shakes his head, and takes a huge breath of relief. Paul bangs his head on the steering wheel and they continue. They had never been this anxious before. The first two kids were excitement. The day they both were adopted as babies were the best days of their lives. They look at each other and sigh, and continue on to London.

They walk into the hospital, and they ask the receptionist where Cynthia's room is. They say on the second floor in Room 207. They run upstairs and down the hall till they see the room with the sign outside saying Lennon. John goes in first, followed by Paul. Cynthia was laying in the bed, already changed into her gown. She was breathing heavily and was chewing on some ice.

"Hey Cyn. How are you love?" John said tenderly, laying a small peck onto her forehead.

"Not well. Im not dilated enough so this may take a while." She said, frustrated.

They sit down with her and help her through the contractions. They get worse one after the other. The pain looks excruciating to the two men, who just look in awe and sympathy.

"How bad does it hurt Cyn?" Paul asks cautiously.

She just shoots him an ugly look.

"The birth will be worse." Cynthia says on the verge of tears.

The couple look at each other with concerned looks and sit back down when the nurse comes in to check on her dilation. The exam looks uncomfortable. John tries to look away but can't help looking at Cynthia's uncomfortable expression. He wonders why women have to go through so much pain to have a child. He starts to think that women are the strongest beings on earth. Two hours go by and she is still not dilated enough for a natural birth. George and Ringo stopped by to say hello but had to leave as it was 3 in the morning and they were exhausted. Around 5 in the morning, Paul and John were asleep on the couch while Cynthia napped on and off. She suddenly squealed and the couple were awoken with fear in their eyes. The nurse ran in and decided to check if she was ready. As they waited to see, Cynthia was in pain and was lightly crying. She kept mumbling about how she couldn't move much.

"Mrs Lennon, I think we are ready to bring you to the delivery room!" The nurse said excitedly.

The nurse gestured to John to come along as they prepped her bed for transport. He gave Paul an excited peck on the cheek and ran down the hall after them. Paul made his way to the waiting room, where Brian, Mimi, and the kids were sitting. The kids were asleep in Brian and Mimi laps. They had begged Mimi to bring them to the hospital to see their new sibling, but they fell asleep quickly. An hour went by, and the anxiety was growing in Paul's stomach. He heard groaning down the hall, and screaming as well. It sounded like Cynthia.

"JOHN!!! ITS COMING!"

Paul sprang up and, on impulse, ran down the hall. He followed the crying and burst into the delivery room. John sprung around as the nurses tried to usher him out. But John refused.

"Let him stay. If you don't, Ill sue the bloody hospital!" John growled.

They reluctantly moved out of the way and Paul ran to John's side. Cynthia began to cry louder as they told her to push.

"Ok Cynthia. You're gonna have to push harder!"

"I CAN'T I CAN'T!" Cynthia moaned.

"Yes you can Cynthia we believe in you, the baby's almost here!"

The next few agonizing minutes were horrible to watch. She pushed and pushed, getting more exhausted by the minute. John tried to excuse himself, but Paul held his hand and squeezed it, comforting him. Eventually, they saw something.

"I see a head!" The nurse said excitedly.

John and Paul ran to see. They saw the baby begin to appear. John got so excited he nearly broke Paul's hand from squeezing so hard. Cynthia began to push even harder, letting out one final scream.

"She's here! Baby Girl Lennon is here!"

Paul and John freeze in their tracks. Its a girl? John becomes very quiet as he looks at the crying baby. Paul becomes concerned and tries to rub his shoulder, but John just simply walks over to the now relaxed Cynthia, with the baby on her chest. She smiles and kisses the baby's forehead. She then hands the baby over to the nurse. The nurse then weighs her and cleans her up. She is then wrapped in a bright pink blanket with a white beanie on her head. Some red hairs are visible peeking onto her forehead. John takes the baby in his arms, playing with her little fingers and toes and smiling gently. He then whispers softly to the baby with tears in his eyes.

"Hello Elizabeth Stella."

Paul stumbles over to his husband, standing in front of him as they look at their precious new child. Cynthia meanwhile gives the baby's new information.

"Role of the mother?"

"I am a surrogate." Cynthia says blankly.

"And the name for the baby will be Lennon-McCartney."

They can feel the judgement behind them but they don't care. They look into the baby's eyes and smile.

"We are gonna love you better than anybody in the world can ever do." Paul says softly.

"Mr Lennon? Is this your life partner?" the nurse politely asked.

"Husband. Thats the proper term. And the baby's other father." John said confidently.

"Paul McCartney." Paul said quietly.

The baby was rushed to the nursery as Cynthia was cleaned up and getting prepared to move to the Recovery ward. Throughout the morning, friends and family came by to see the baby. Cynthia let John and Paul hold the baby mostly, not wanting to get too attached. Julian and Sean came later in the day and met their new sister for the first time.

"Hey sweetheart." Paul said as he picked up a very excited Julian.

"Where is she?" Julian asked.

"Down here. Hold my hand." Paul grabbed Julian's hand as Sean held onto Paul's jacket.

The room was quiet when they entered. Cynthia was asleep. John was in the rocking chair with Elizabeth. He was holding her little hand and humming to her softly. Julian wanted to yell for his Daddy, but Paul shushed him.

"Hey guys. Wanna come meet yer new sister?" John said quietly.

Sean and Julian ran over to John and stood right beside him. He showed Elizabeth to them gently and they just played with her fingers and giggled. John was ecstatic. Never had Paul seen his husband so happy. He loved kids, especially girls. John simply just smiled at Paul and they exchanged a passionate stare. Their little family was complete.

[bandomslayed]

I’m not saying you should focus more on racism, I’m just saying that that’s something that the community as a whole needs to focus on and try to repair, I’m sure they all already know that people don’t like their ships. If that’s an issue, then groups can have a strict age limit. Easy solve. The other things are things that can be taught and learned but with hostility all that’s going to happen is a deeper divide. You said you wanted to argue with people about the things you don’t like that they do in this community. I’m paraphrasing, but why not instead want to educate them. No one will ever react well to feeling like they’re being ridiculed or patronized. People worth spending your time on are the ones you can talk to without it being a shitshow. We’re having a dialogue. I’ve felt this entire time like everything I say, someone is going to search for one thing to deliberately misinterpret or magnify unnecessarily when, if there’s something that they have an issue with, it could be a perfect opportunity to educate me instead of people being hostile. I’m college educated and can think critically, I’m moderately well spoken, I’m open to instructive criticisms and discussing things that aren’t agreed upon so I’m just sort of confused by the fact that what I’m saying is being picked apart by other anons and to a degree, you. You all want to change my mind about age gaps, despite me being with someone older irl and feeling safe and genuinely valued for the first time in a relationship in my life so why do you think that calling my dead grandpa names, redirecting the conversation and then kinda mocking me when I attempt to understand wholly and agree with some of the things you’re saying? That’s not going to convince me or anyone else. It just makes people feel defensive. Reiterating here that I’m not saying YOU specifically need to talk about racism more, and I’m not trying to diminish your experience or anything like that In just saying that those topics (discrimination of any kind, abuse of any kind) in the community are things we should be discussing instead of ships we think aren’t comfortable. I feel uncomfortable with relationships in real life and in rp all the time but that isn’t up to me to say it’s wrong or bad. It’s no ones right to tell any two consenting adults that what they’re doing is wrong. But it is a human right to tell someone when they’re being insensitive, and that’s a flaw in the community that people can be educated on and learn to handle with more sensitivity and knowledge but we’re never going to reach that point if we’re all just hostile and cruel to one another. Also reiterating that I’m not using personal examples to get cred, I just like examples because I think using them shows where I’m coming from so that any person who wants to have a dialogue can have a frame of reference for why my opinions are what they are on any topic. If I’m wrong, or insensitive, or just kinda dumb I want to know that but simply telling me I’m wrong or insensitive or dumb doesn’t teach me how not to me. And this doesn’t just mean me, I mean the whole community. It will never improve if we all just talk about the things we don’t like and give no feasible solutions.

alright i see what you want so let me switch to my white pleaser voice and deliver since you're so keen on being patronizing and in the same breath, acting like me taking what you say "the wrong way" is the problem. in bullet points so next time u come back to keep going at it u can pinpoint exactly what it is i misconstrued because u will do it anyway.

you're asking the community as a whole to care more about racism but you're talking to me who's leading the conversation in the first place. i understand you didn't imply i specifically should care more about it, but you're still using racism to discredit my point of view on age gap relationships being an important topic to discuss as well, and watering it down to just me not liking people's plots when that is not the message.

nobody is telling anyone how to live their lives. im bringing awareness to the fact that this culture is not okay. it's dangerous to our young. it NEEDS to be uncomfortable to you (you, plural) to invite to this so called critical thinking.

im not saying your partner doesn't have a right to be loving or grandpa and grandma had abuse masked as a good relationship. im saying, since it needs to be spelled out with no room for misinterpretation; the culture behind someone 10+ years older finding it completely okay to pursue someone that much younger — especially when we're talking 18 - 30 age range — needs to be looked at more closely. it's not safe in general. do exceptions exist? absolutely, but the whole two consenting adults point is a terrible one to make when at 18, you're considered that when you're still essentially just a child.

a strict age limit, which most groups adopt now, does little to actually prevent age gap relationships within roleplays. moreso, uneven power dynamics within plots being glamorized. my boss is not over 5 years older than me, but he is my boss. kpop boybands don't have age gaps of 10+ years in groups, usually, but there is a leader most times acting like a father figure, not to mention korean culture is heavy on emphasizing age-related hierarchical order, so a literal still wet behind the ears child establishing a romantic connection with someone who is not their equal? dangerous.

now let's halt. i already told you, i don't give a shit about respectability politics. it is not my job to be nice and educate anyone. and i don't mean just on this blog... most of you whites have come to assume and expect, even, that poc will be subservient, docile, and always willing to switch and nicely explain to you why the very core of the way you think about the world because you grew up sheltered w/e is not the whole picture for everyone. the worst part? most of them do. most of them do put their thinking caps on and write these novel worthy, intelligent, respectful, calculated think pieces only for the white in question to turn around and still deem it aggressive, etc. i don't do that. that is labor that most of you do not deserve.

the implication that there are feasible solutions for these problems that don't require for people to literally rework their entire mindset is naive at best. what am i supposed to do? be like nooo don't be racist, racism is bad BECAUSE it hurts people. i think all of you are old enough to know that by now. you definitely have enough internet exposure to know that, even if you grew up in all white sundown town america.

i explain my points. i actually explain my points more than the average person, yet here we are still saying im not doing enough to educate those around me as if it was my responsibility to change the way people think with sugar spice and everything nice so they feel their hand is held and it's safe to make a mistake that will consequently hurt other people as many times as they need to make it to finally grasp the reality of it and be able to just... not do that in the future. when no. no. when you hurt me, im allowed to react emotionally, not intellectually. when im angry and upset and still explaining why, its YOUR job to swallow it down and listen to what im saying, because YOU hurt me. i don't owe you civility (again; you, plural). i especially don't owe you civility when ive given you nothing but in the past and the end result is still me being an aggro freak who doesn't care for your precious feelings.

you're also assuming things. for example, assuming that im mocking you specifically when i really have not done that. if im going to mock you, im going to reply to your anon and say "okay stupid", then yeah, im mocking you. otherwise? don't assume im directing anything at you.

we're having a dialogue and this whole time all you've done is tell me to stop talking. your messages have all, in essence, said, if people want to date other people who have a shitton of years on them, that is not a problem and you look prettier talking about something else. yes, that's also paraphrased. you didn't say that, of course, but why are we still here if not because you feel personally scrutinized over the reaction to the life examples that you willingly provided?

nobody is trying to change YOUR mind, you're just not willing to consider that your age gap relationships that have been beautiful and loving and safe coexist within a culture that is wicked. a person who's 10+ older than me, 24, has no business seeing me as a potential partner. it's not appropriate. yet if they do, and i also see them as a potential partner, there's nothing inherently evil about that specific instance. it is the circumstances (past), that lead to this kind of thinking in the first place what im asking everyone to analize and understand. and it does matter. it matters as much as racism, abuse, ooc mistreatment of rp partners. again, issues do not queue and wait for something to end so they can begin anew. every conversation i choose to have i consider worth having. you're free to stay out if you don't deem it important.

you're exhausting me thinking by turning my inbox into ap debate we're achieving grand things sooo hope this helps 🖤

[startwithbrooklyn]

THE GREAT ND REWATCH OF 2021 / OCTOBER 3, 2019 // the trial

(TW SUICIDE)

it's the reveal!!!! love that for her hope shes thriving (shes not) again w the two minutes of the next episode to sync the dates

-lmaoooo so i honestly wonder why they went for the full pulling-it-out-the-throat thing but idk (an interesting foil to her getting sick for more stereotypical reasons ie s2 "people find out theyre grandparents every day"

-I LOVE THIS GEORGE HAIR

-"i'd do anything for nancy" okay but....why 👀bit of an odd reaction imo

-bess with spilling the truth again 😂and gets shot down. tragic #shetried

-wait sooooo nobody tested the fingerprints on the knife when this shit happened?? or that tech didnt exist in 2000? i mean without a body how could they even call it murder? and who told the police?? like if the drews took the baby, the dress, and said nothing, who tells the cops shes missing or even dead? how did they know to search the bluffs? who told the media/public? it had to have happened that same night because ryan said when he got there later there were already rumors she was killed. after the baby and bloody dress, only her crown, a knife, and tire tracks were left. how did anyone find anything at this remote bluff without some kind of tip off? and why on earth would they think murder and not suicide with so little evidence?? thats gotta be like suicide central, sorry for the trigger

-"a little help, lucy?!" lucy seems unable to disobey a direct request from nancy (ie "lucy, stop" from later in the ep) when nancy speaks directly to her. so maybe if nancy had spoken aloud/engaged more lucy could have appeared more? nancy said she only comes around when she wants to but what if nancy herself could do a bit more, being the last thing lucy touched and all

-so in ep 2 when nancys in jail carson says "great grandma rosalind buried her valuables in the trunk" including the knives shown here. did carson and kates families even know about nancy? how did they explain not announcing a pregnancy or birth?

-"oh." john lmfaoooo

-BESS lmaoooo and ace's looks in the background and then at seeing nick approaching lmfaooo oh no / also why on earth is she apologizing?? he dumped her but she has to be sorry he found out she fucked someone else? someone nicer pls explain to me bc i dont get it. she dont owe him shit

-george is SO CUTE lmfaoooo and so forward and he was so shook but then he was like "oh hell yeah"

-"is he a vampire?!" ik nobody i knew got that reference 😂

-this entire search of the claw is a sham. what are they even looking for. clearly a set up by tamura but why/what does he suspect them of. esp w karen as accomplice, story should be airtight so why are they still investigating?

-john + ace dream team 💙

-god ace is such a yes-man. why is he so fucking loyal?? people like him are insane. how are they real. i suspect they arent. and no matter what you do you are never worthy of their unending loyalty anyway.

-so in the Good Place nancy was the one who had the key but in reality its ryan

-wonder if lucy's listening to ryan here talking about his love and grief for her

-"you were throwing away your future on a nothing girl" - nancy & ryan - their fathers dont want them to see "troubled" kids, want them to focus on school instead --> which they both struggle with and eventually do not achieve (maybe bc they want their kids to leave horseshoe bay?) for nancy its an interesting vice for someone whos really a goody two shoes/for ryan its subverted bc karen actually did worse than him ie committed real crimes

-"stay away from my family" surprise bitch bet you thought youd seen the last of me 😉

-interestingly, ryan probably would have agreed with karen about switching the ballot boxes but he wouldnt have really understood the social consequences. both josh and karen are determined to see ryan as the bad guy when actually he didnt do anything, they did. 🤔

-karen is such a ride or die friend. again w the loyalty. if someone swapped ballot boxes for me i'd be touched. im sure going into active labor made lucy a bit upset but damn. what a friend.

-wonder when nancy starts calling her "Lucy" instead of "dead lucy"

-lucy primarily haunting her own house/love seeing this house overtaken by nature

-the concept of writing things down : starting from the first ep, nancy's journal (then and now), writing out simon cards, similar cemetary cards in the Good Place, "beautiful minding it," culminating in lucy's journal / writing it down to help figure it out/when theres too much going on to keep it inside

-"i'll make a salad" NICK LMAOOO

-wonder what happened to carson's old lawyer?

-"my testimony begins in the summer of 1999" because your story always starts with your mother's story

-lmfaoooooo this shit taking the stand is soooo never allowed but oh well

-"she stole a knife" and carson's face lmfaooooo he knows its not true but what could he fucking say?? no?

-"i love you mom, i hope you never find this." ironic bc nancy didnt want her dad to find her journal either

-lucy never wanted anyone to find out how she died d/t shame- but she didnt want carson to go to jail for it so she finally allowed it (or just couldnt refuse nancy asking)

-"i'm sorry for what you lost"/"i'm never gonna be free from them"

-awww ace/mcginnis goodbye / i wonder if ace is nervous thinking about tamura --> ace's dad since chief mcginnis covered for ace out of respect for his dads sacrifice but tamura would throw both ace and his dad under the bus just to get at nancy (get at her via ace? since he was already used as the blackmail plot device? they kinda touched in this in s2 but not fully)

-okay sooo why are they still doing this forensic analysis thing? like the whole things over so whats the point. i wonder if john had packed up and gone home what coulda happened

-nancy/carson - interrupted moments:

•family dinner interrupted by nancy's accsations

•being home after finding ted interrupted by carson's arrest

•celebration of dropped charges interrupted by nancy discovering the truth about her parentage

-"i cooked your favorite to celebrate" ironic bc shes upset that hes not her "real" dad but he IS because he knows her best. like theyre literally proving it right in front of her. vs ryan whom she doesnt really want anyway AND rejects requests to get to know her. like come on sis. his 20 years of parenting you arent going away, ever. deal w it.

-carson's little smile before he said "'mom never hurt lucy" like he knows this is the end / scott's acting here just kills me

~~~~~~~~~

-why did the drews come back at all? and why did kate really keep the dress? carson says she did it as a link to lucy, but did kate want to keep it to be connected to lucy? or did she bury it to keep lucy repressed? is this a positive or a negative? +keeping in attic - did lucy start to haunt kate, so she unburied the dress?

and lastly:

-why doesnt lucy haunt everett and celia hudson? she kind of does ie painting but only when nancy visits bc shes actually haunting nancy. isnt everything the hudsons' fault?

[honsoolie]

don’t rush | 02

pairing: Yoongi/reader

genre: slight enemies to lovers, college au, fluff, eventual smut, classical pianist!yoongi, violinist!reader, they’re both actually really into each other but won’t admit it

warnings (for this chapter only): mentions of stage fright/performance anxiety, swearing, sexual references, slight angst, dad jokes :|  

words: 6k 

rating: +18

summary: You know, when Min Yoongi’s face isn’t screwed into an accusatory scowl, he looks exactly like the kind of guy you’d have no trouble falling in love with. Or, the conservatory au where Yoongi helps you get over your stage fright. In more ways than one.

a/n: didn’t plan to take this long for an update, life gets in the way, you know the drill. read 01 here and as always, this is crossposted to ao3 :) 

When you get inside, the warmth welcomes you in. You’re not quite sure if it’s from the heating in the hallway or how Yoongi’s eyes had shone in the moonlight. You lean against the inner door frame, a happy smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, legs a little weak in the knee. You feel light-headed, maybe from being up late, maybe from your exhausting day, maybe from the lingering remnants of Yoongi’s cologne. 

Did that really just happen? Did he really just ask for your number? Was this all a dream?

The euphoria is short-lasting, however. You still have some assignments waiting for you, and only a couple hours left until your morning classes. The tiredness never lets up, and your limbs heavy again as you make your way inside the lobby of your dorm.  

Unknown number (2:47am): hi this is yoongi 

Unknown number (2:47am): did you get inside ok? 

You (2:48am): yeah

You (2:48am): did u? 

  Yoongi (2:50am): im walking back now 

Yoongi (2:50am): you should sleep soon :// 

  You (2:51am): I still have hw :( 

You (2:51am): text me when ur back inside too 

  Yoongi (2:53am): lmaoo is it counterpoint hw 

Yoongi (2:54am): it’s so sweet that you care for my safety ;( 

  You (2:54am): yes sadly 

You (2:55am): ofc I care, we can’t have our amazing star pianist get hurt 

  Yoongi (2:55am): im home now

Yoongi (2:58am): you have a thing for praise, don’t you 

Even though you can’t see him, you splutter alone in your room, roommate fast asleep. There is no way that means what you think it means. 

You (3:00am): idk where u got that from 

You (3:03am): maybe i do, you’ll have to find out 

  Yoongi (3:04am): I would, but you have to finish your analysis worksheet :/ 

  You (3:15am): ugh, fuck it

You (3:15am): im going to sleep 

You (3:15am): ill just wake up early tomorrow to finish it before class 

  Yoongi (3:16am): what? No goodnight? >:( 

Yoongi (3:17am): some manners you have 

Yoongi (3:17am): what a rude girl 

  You (3:18am): aw have i been bad? 

You (3:18am): I’m sooooo sorry 

You (3:19am): gn 

The minutes tick by, and you grow more indignant than you should. Is he serious? 

Who doesn’t say goodnight back? Maybe you scared him off. Maybe all this “flirtatious” banter was just how Yoongi talked to his friends. How would you know? You don’t know anything about him. 

The same insidious doubt creeps back in. Maybe this is all a game to him. Maybe he just wanted to introduce himself to another music student in the department, you all were supposed to know each other anyway. Maybe, worst of all, he had really only meant to wake you up in the music building as a simple courtesy, no intent behind it. You groan as you sink into your bed, cradling your head in your hands. 

You (3:27am): some hypocrite you are 

  Yoongi (3:30am): I was in the showerrr relax 

Yoongi (3:31am): hm you have been bad 

Yoongi (3:33am): maybe I should punish you 

  You (3:29am): u wish 

You (3:30am): but goodnight for real, we have class in five hours :”( 

  Yoongi (3:31am): goodnight

Yoongi (3:31am): save me a spot next to you 

~

You were in the world’s smallest big crisis. 

Was Yoongi actually serious when he asked you to save a seat? Or were you just indulging in wishful thinking? Was he flirting with you last night? And if he was, what are you supposed to do now? 

Whatever he meant, you would have to face him now. 

The endless litany of maybes and what-ifs grows louder in your head, even louder than last night during your text correspondence with him.You elect to use your backpack to save the seat next to you as class time draws nearer, chiding yourself for overthinking something so casual, but it does nothing to soothe your existential anxiety. 

“Thanks for saving me a spot, I’m so glad you remembered.” A voice brings you out of your reverie. It takes a moment to register who it is at first. Your eyes meet the traditional college garb first, sweatpants and an overwashed fundraising t-shirt, then the half-tamed cowlick, that ever-present cup of coffee. Your breath catches in your throat, breathtaking despite the casual circumstances. It’s just another class lecture, you chastise yourself, but your gut twists nonetheless. 

Seeing Yoongi in such close quarters is still an adjustment for you, his presence (or even the thought of being close to him) a shock to your body. You had spent so much time languishing after him that even now, it still feels like waking up into a dream. 

You clear your throat, stalling, “Yeah, putting my backpack in the seat next to mine was sooo hard. You should compensate me for my labor.” 

You try to put on the flirty smile that you were wearing last night, but it feels like a grimace. God, you are way too nervous for this. 

You realize you’ll never get tired of the way he laughs at your shitty jokes, the way his shoulders shake and eyes crinkle at the corners. 

“Yeah, I will, don’t you worry about that.” He sinks into the seat next to you and doesn’t spare you a second glance. 

Dr. Won walks in, the picture of put-togetherness, killing whatever flirty response you had formulated. 

You thought you had enjoyed having a crush before, but admiring someone and imagining a life together from afar was worlds away from talking and sitting next to said object of affection. This shouldn’t be that big of a deal. You shouldn’t be tripping all over yourself when Yoongi sits next to you in lecture. 

Whatever Dr. Won is saying is drowned out by Yoongi sitting next to you. It feels deeply unfair how he affects you, when he gets to sit next to you like nothing important is happening. It’s just another day in lecture, preparing for the midterms coming up. 

He’s not even doing anything, minding his own business. You shouldn’t be swooning when he is just sitting there, again bouncing his leg, taking diligent notes. From the furtive glances you steal, even his handwriting is attractive. Endearing, even if it was a little messy and looping over the printed lines.

~

True fact: the only reason why Yoongi fidgets so much is because of the effect you had on him. It drives him up the wall, the way you keep tucking your hair behind your ear. He envies your unfaltering concentration, the look in your eye when you see something on the Powerpoint slides that you have to jot down. 

Yoongi can’t stand to silently sit next to you without doing anything anymore. Taking his pen, he scrawls on the corner of your neat notes. He knows it’ll piss you off, but that’s the reaction that he wants. 

  do you have any idea what is going on 

  He watches carefully for your reaction. Satisfaction creeps into his neutral expression when you notice, confusion turning into what could only be a lovestruck smile, and then into an irritated grimace. Fuck, even the curve of your wrist was enough to drive him crazy. You pick up your pen, writing back. 

  No, stop writing on my stuff 

  Okay, new plan, Yoongi concedes. He settles for writing on the corner of his own notes, tearing off the corner. He slips the paper into your lap, fingertips skimming the top of your thigh. He doesn’t notice, but he leaves a trail of goosebumps in his wake. 

  don’t you think dr. won dresses like an old hag 

  You write back on the scrap of paper: 

actually you could learn a thing or two from her 

  Yoongi smirks, in classic Yoongi fashion. 

You know I would rock a long skirt like her 

  Yoongi watches you read his message, smile, and then tuck the note into your notebook. 

~

After class, Dr. Won reminds everyone of the midterm coming up two weeks from now, and that’s when Yoongi senses an opportunity. The two of you walk out of class together, forced to walk side by side because of the student foot traffic.

“Do you like, want to study together sometime?” Yoongi blurts out, louder than he needs to be, even among the hum of the other students. 

 He clears his throat. “I mean, we’ve shared a lot of classes, so.” 

You can’t help but laugh in surprise, or maybe incredulousness. You resist the urge to let the satisfaction show on your face. “I didn’t know you ever noticed.” 

“Of course I did. You’re like, the biggest nerd on the planet.” Even when Yoongi is teasing you, he can’t help but sound bashful. 

You gasp in mock offense. “There’s nothing wrong with being a nerd.” You both stop, standing at the mouth of the lecture hall. 

“Of course not.” He’s awfully close to you, close enough that you can see the mole on the tip of his nose. “That’s why I’m asking you to be my study buddy.”

It’s not necessary to be standing this close. Sure, the hallway is busy, but not that busy. 

“Study buddy? That sounds lame.” You scoff, playing hard to get. Both you and Yoongi know you’re going to say yes anyway. 

“What else do you want me to call you? My homework homie?” 

“Uh, yeah . That sounds way better than study buddy. ” You’re more proud of your humor than anything else, even if it earns a deserved eye-roll from Yoongi. 

“And midterms are coming up. So you know, mutually beneficial.” Yoongi takes a sip from his coffee, peering at you from behind the rim.   

“Like… friends with benefits?” You can’t help yourself. It’s just too easy to flirt with him. 

Yoongi tongues his cheek, he grins. “Only if you want it to be.” He’s having way too much fun with this. 

You try to hide your reaction, but Yoongi notices anyway. (He notices a lot of things you don’t realize.) Your wide-eyed shock, the blush that’s flushing down your neck, the way you open your mouth as if to say something equally as flirtatious back, your laugh, like this is actually way more casual than it is. 

“So I’ll take that as a yes,” He says. You could get used to the playful lilt in his voice. 

“Only if you promise you won’t just copy my work.” You cross your arms in front of your chest, suddenly very aware of how tall he is. 

“I live and die by the honor code, y/n. Of course I won’t,” Yoongi says, leaning ever closer to you in the cramped hallway. 

You quirk an eyebrow. “Does a man of honor text me like you did last night?” 

“Oh come on. If you’re going to be friends with me you’re going to have to learn to laugh at dirty humor.” Friends? It’s a start, at least. 

“Who said that I didn’t like dirty humor?” 

“Hmm, I did.” There’s a glint in his eyes that wasn't there before. “You’d have to be a woman of your word and show me.” 

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” You flash an innocent smile, like you don’t see the implication of what he’s saying. 

~

Tuesdays have always been the most bittersweet day of the week for you. It’s lesson day, but oh, it’s lesson day. It feels like the day of judgement, every single week. It’s a culmination of all the blood and tears that you’ve poured into your music in the past week, another chance at evaluation. You’ve known your violin teacher longer than you’ve been in college, and it still shouldn’t scare you this much.

The nervousness spins and dips in your chest as you make your way up the winding stairs that lead to the music building. You usually soothe the apprehension by reminding yourself of all the things you’ve done to prepare, just like you usually do before you go out on stage. This week you were supposed to get the rest of the Bach partita memorized and cleaned up, but it still resides in your memory as disjointed bits and pieces of what it’s actually supposed to sound like. You try to run through the parts that you were stuck on last night, but you draw a blank. You usually don’t take this long to commit pieces to memory, but when you open up your score, all you can think about is the unmoving stare of the audience. Seeing your life flash before your eyes every time you stare at your pencil markings isn’t exactly conducive to productive practice sessions. 

As you retrieve your violin from your locker and make your way to the practice room, you feel like you’re preparing yourself for your own undoing—every scale, every tick of the metronome—another step towards your demise. 

It shouldn’t be this serious, but the pitter-pattering of your heart says otherwise. You glance at the clock. It’s time. You pack up now, so you have a couple extra minutes to wait solemnly outside of her office, staring at the posters that advertise the professionals who come to perform concerts at your college. Next week, a pianist and violinist duo is coming. In the picture, they’re smiling proudly next to a Steinway piano. They look proud of themselves. They probably don’t feel like they’re allergic to the stage, probably live for the audience’s applause. That’s probably how they ended up there on the poster, after all. 

Your violin teacher isn’t scary. She’s a homey, lovely old woman whose wrinkles come from a lifetime of smiling. She’s the type to bring you sweet, homemade pastries that are almost as warm as her hugs during the toughest parts of the semester. Which makes the moments when she’s unhappy all the more painful. It’s not her fear that plagues you, but disappointment. 

The door clicks open, and you have no more time to ponder your failures as a musician. You gather your things and head inside. Nothing inside her office has changed since the previous week. The same teetering stack of well-loved method books sits on her chair, the same humidifier whirring steadily in the corner, the same Dr. Kim Hyung-Seo sitting on the piano bench. 

“Good afternoon, y/n! How’s the Bach coming along?” She asks, like you haven’t spent the past week treating this piece like your mortal enemy. She takes a sip of her warm chamomile tea, from the same snowman-shaped mug that she’s used every week, because she is that endearing. In another life, she would probably be your grandmother. 

“Good morning. Ah, you know…” You trail off and gesture into the air, trying to hide your grimace. How could you possibly describe the unease and unsureness around performing without crossing some kind of professional boundary? 

“Let’s hear it, it’s okay. Are you all warmed up?” You nod as you unpack your things again. As you move to put the Bach score on the music stand, she tuts. 

“Didn’t we agree that this would be memorized last week?” Dr. Kim flips through her lesson notes, inky blue scrawling over the pages. “Yeah, it should be memorized. Close the score, darling.” Usually, when Dr. Kim calls you darling, warmth unfurls in your chest and you beam. You’re not feeling particularly warm right now. 

“Ah, okay…” With slow reluctance, you close the score, the plain paper cover mocking you. You lift your bow to your violin, and shut your eyes. You don’t want to watch this. 

~

Yoongi (4:38pm): Hey 

Yoongi (4:38pm): wanna study tonight :] 

If there’s anything Yoongi is good at, it’s having perfect timing. You half-walk, half-run out of the music building, sucking frigid air into your lungs. The cold weather seems to force the tears back into your eyes. If there was ever a worst-case scenario for how a lesson could go, then that was what just played out in the music room. 

Shutting your eyes won’t stop the barrage of images, playing the world’s cruelest slideshow behind your eyelids. Your teacher’s pursed lips, the still fingers clasped over her mug, the pinched brow. 

“y/n, we don’t have much more time to clean it up…” Her words echo in your head. “We’ll try again next week…” The disappointment was the worst thing, the downward tone in her voice. “I expected better…” 

You (5:15pm): maybe 

You (5:15pm): what time? 

  Yoongi (5:20pm): like now 

Yoongi (5:23pm): are you busy? 

  You (5:25pm): no I just finished up a lesson 

You (5:26pm): i’m about to study in the library if you want to join me 

  Yoongi (5:30pm): I don’t want to go to the library :( 

  You (5:31pm): why not 

  Yoongi (5:32pm): if I feed you dinner will you come to my apartment 

Yoongi (5:33pm): I really don’t want to walk to the library it’s too damn cold 

  After all, the best way to a woman's heart is through her stomach.

  You (5:35pm): fine 

You (5:35pm): it better be a hell of a dinner 

  Yoongi (5:36pm): of course it will 

Yoongi sends you his location, and you’re walking as fast as you can through the campus to make it to his apartment before you can freeze your fingers off. 

~

Yoongi’s expression is nothing short of scandalized when you show up at his door. It’s a typical mouse hole apartment, his front door identical to all the other ones that you’d passed to get here. 

“You’re not wearing gloves? In this weather?” 

“I don’t have any…” You rasp out. You’re tired. Your throat hurts from trying to hold tears back during your entire lesson, and you have no spirit left to give Yoongi an innuendo-laced comeback. 

I expected better. 

“Oh my god, you’ve been playing violin for how many years and nobody ever told you to wear gloves when it’s cold?” He leads you inside, the warmth abating the cold that’s wormed its way underneath your clothes and into your bones. 

“For God’s sake, y/n, hasn’t anyone ever told you about the importance of blood circulation?” Yoongi clasps your hands between his, rubbing and blowing air on them to warm them up. He doesn’t notice your surprise amid his chastising, muttering something about common sense. You don’t try to keep your guard up this time, just trying to bite tears back at the mention of musicianship. The firm press of his hands grounds you. 

“There.” He smiles, proud of himself. “Warm now?” 

Oh yeah, you’re definitely warm. In every dimension of the word. But you don’t tell him that, so you settle for a weak nod. 

“You can put your stuff there. I’m hungry now, let’s eat first?” You hum in affirmation as you settle your heavy backpack on his cramped couch. 

It turns out that Min Yoongi’s idea of gourmet cooking is heating up two freezer-burnt Hot Pockets while you watch him putter around the tiny kitchenette. This is the first time you’ve ever seen him without his glasses, and this is when you finally internalize that Yoongi will always look good no matter what he does or wears or says. 

“You made it seem like you were cooking,” You say, just to fill the silence. 

“Uhhhh, I don’t know who told you I was capable of cooking, but they were wrong. I can show you a good time in other ways, no?” 

You snort. 

In hopes of saving time, he microwaves both of Hot Pockets at the same time. You silently bristle at the fact that even your dinner is getting more action than you are these days. 

You and Yoongi eat together in his tiny living room, sitting on mismatched stools.  

“How did your lesson go?” Yoongi says, more focused on eating than on you. 

“Oh…” You set your Hot Pocket down, sighing in defeat. The image of Dr. Kim sitting behind the piano bench, her dissatisfaction like a noxious cloud. “I… I…  got ripped apart. I’m a little behind with preparing for the Bach festival, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing I do or prepare will make me less stressed about it.” You slump onto the counter, recounting all the things you did wrong in your lesson today. I expected better. 

“What’s the stress about? We still have over a month, right?” You’re suddenly jealous of Yoongi. His nonchalance, his seemingly constant reassurance that everything is going to be okay. 

“I’m not worried about that… just, no matter how much I practice, I’m gonna fuck it up on stage.” Your forehead pinches in frustration. 

“Are you that nervous?” 

“I’ve always been this nervous. For any performance. I haven’t performed alone in a while… and you know. It’s Bach, and everyone expects me to do some amazing job, and it’s like, I don’t know if I can deliver that and-” Yoongi eases his hand on your shoulder, calm, reassuring. He looks concerned. Like he cares. Like a friend. 

“When was the last time you played something just for the fun of it?”

“I don’t know, maybe my freshman year? I used to arrange themes from movies.” 

“We should work on something together, just for fun. We’re such a perfect instrument combo, there’s so much repertoire for violin and piano.” 

“What did you have in mind? Do you even have enough time for that?” (You know you don’t have enough time for that.) 

“It doesn’t even have to be a difficult piece. It could be something easy or hard, I don’t care.” Yoongi ponders his next words over a bite of his food. “I… I... just want to see you less stressed out. And music should always be fun, not just for a grade. What kind of music would you be making if you weren’t happy?” 

“I don’t know…” 

“I know this one Brahms piece that I think you’d like. Totally fits your vibe. We can just work on it slowly, you know? Or we could arrange the Anpanman theme song, I don’t care.” 

~

“I think I’m mostly good for the midterm, except for the composer dates,” Yoongi spins around in his office chair, dragging his feet on the ground. 

“Me too,” You say, as you drink in the sight of his room. For someone who claims to abhor studying and all things academic, Yoongi appears to be quite the organized student. Despite the constant claim that his education is merely a necessary evil, he keeps his notes organized in uniform binders on a well-cared for bookshelf. The bookshelf is adjacent to the extremely detailed wall calendar, marked full with due dates and deadlines in pens of various colors. 

He runs his fingers over the binders to locate the binder allocated to the species counterpoint class you’re taking together. 

“I already have flashcards for everything before the Romantic Era, but I’m so fucked for everything else.” 

“Why not just use Quizlet like everyone else?” You say. You eye his neatly made bed and the Kumamon stuffed animal shoved hastily underneath it. 

“Back in my day, we used flashcards like cavemen,” Yoongi reasons, despite the fact that your birthdays are months within each other. “And besides, they feel better in your hand.” Of course, they’re indexed by color and musical era. 

~

“Ugh, I hate sitting at my desk. My back is starting to hurt,” Yoongi says, despite having worked for about ten minutes. “Do you want to lay down?” He pats the fluffy comforter adjacent to him. Yoongi doesn’t wait for your response however, plopping down on the bed with an audible thump. 

“Okay, old man,” You jibe, but you’ve also been sitting for a majority of the day. Your back is aching too, but you’ll never admit it to him. 

Sometimes, at times like these, you wish you could just muster up the courage and stop playing this game of cat and mouse with him. When you lay on his sheets that smell like him, quizzing each other, you wonder what would happen if you confessed your feelings for him, right then and there. 

Or outlined exactly how exactly you would take his cock in your mouth, given the chance. Other times, you consider the fact that he might like to play with his food before diving in. Whatever it was, it scared you, the unease climbing up your spine and staying put. 

You wonder if he understands the implication of you so casually lounging on his bed, but then you realize that you likely don’t exist in the realm of romantic possibilities for him. He likely sees you as the nerdy, sexless violinist that spends all her time slaving away in the practice room or the library. That’s why you’re here, after all. To help study for the midterms coming up. “Being friends with him is better than nothing,” you tell yourself, but you can’t really bring yourself to believe it. 

You don’t remember, or at least don’t care to, when Yoongi started touching every aspect of your life. It’s really only been a couple of weeks since the two of you started studying together. You don’t dare to imagine how much of your thoughts he would occupy if you continue your friendship into the coming months. If your crush of massive proportions was bad before, it’s truly out of hand now. It certainly didn’t help that he actually knew you existed now. He spammed you gifs of baby animals while he was on the way to class, texted you links to performances of pieces that he was working on. He even began to send you teasing texts on the mornings that he made it to the practice rooms before you. 

Every experience you have is colored by thoughts of him. The coffee that you drink like ambrosia conjures up images of him sitting across from you in some far-off sunlit cafe, laughing at all your jokes. On the nights when sleep escapes  you, you lay awake rehashing over and over what you had said to him on the previous day. You even fall into reveries when he’s sitting there right next to you. 

 It’s inescapable, especially with the Bach Festival looming over your head. The more time you spend in the practice room, the more you go back to that one fateful night. You can still see the image of him now, sitting before the piano, playing Chopsticks. 

You both make your way through the fat deck of flashcards, Yoongi quizzing you first. 

“J.S. Bach?” You note to yourself even the upswing in his voice was cute. How did you ever let yourself get so whipped?

“1685 to…” You falter, still stuck on his voice. Even his voice drives you crazy. 

“Come on, you should know this.” He drives his point home by poking you in the side, and he likes the gasp that you make. 

“1750.” Of course you know Bach’s birth and death dates by heart. You see it every time you open up your score. Even the scant prod he gave you in the side, over your clothes, is enough to make your skin heat up. 

“And if you ever tickle me again, you won’t live long enough for midterms,” You threaten, but your harsh tone of voice doesn’t reach the light in your eyes. 

“Brahms?” 

“Ugh, fuck, I don’t know. 1832 to?” 

“Wrong.” He sets the cards down next to him, looking at you in mock disappointment. In an instant, he attacks you with tickles, and your efforts to bat him away are fruitless. 

“This-this is what you get for not knowing when Brahms was born! Learn through punishment! 1833 to 1897, remember that next time!!” He collapses on top of you, burying his face in your neck, unrelenting. Yoongi sounds almost gleeful in your torture. 

You writhe under his touch, and for all the wrong reasons. 

For the first time in your life, you’re almost glad you’re ticklish. Your eyes roll back into your head, not of your own accord. It’s too much, the soft skin of his cheek pressed up against your neck, the warm weight of his body against yours, the way his legs cage you in. A moan slips in between your helpless giggles, and Yoongi doesn’t miss it. 

“Uhhh, what was that?” He doesn’t stop, merciless in his advance. “I didn’t know you liked tickling… like that.” He’s teasing you, now. He can’t hide his pleased grin. 

Between gasps, you manage to pant, “I… don’t…” 

“Then what? Tell me.” That’s when Yoongi relents, leaning back. He continues to straddle you, because he’s cruel like that. (And because he likes it too.)

“You’re just… ugh, I don’t know… so close.” In Yoongi’s eyes, you’re a study in debauchery. From your struggle, your hair is mussed, the hem of your shirt awry. Your cheeks are flushed, from embarrassment or from the tickling, you don’t know. Your chest frantically rises and falls, trying to regain your breath. 

You, on the other hand, feel fucking ridiculous. Contrary to popular belief, being on the recieving end of tickling is fucking physically exhausting. 

Yoongi is stuck on the hot and bothered look on your face, except for the hard look in your eye. You despise being tickled, even if it is Min Yoongi doing the tickling. He wonders what you’d look like if you were underneath him in… different circumstances. 

Would it compare? 

“I… I… I just…” You avert your gaze now, hiding your face behind your hands. You can’t stand to look at him right now. 

“Spill it, or I’ll go back to tickling you until you break.” He grabs your hands away from your face, pinning them next to your head. 

He really isn’t going to make this easy for you, is he. 

This is overwhelming. The eye contact is too much. The weight of his hands on your wrists, holding you down, is too much. The way his panting breath tickles the skin beneath your collar is too much. You’ve had a bad day, the voice in the back of your head whispers. He makes you forget how awful this semester has been. He makes you feel better. Make this day easier on yourself. Just give in. 

There’s no hiding it now, you concede. 

You shut your eyes, unable to face him. “It’s just… been a while.” 

“Uh-huh. Continue?” He places his hands back on your stomach, as if in warning. 

“Since uhhhh… I’ve done… anything… with anyone…” Your words hang heavy in the air. Your secret is out. 

He laughs. He really has the audacity to laugh. 

“Shut up! I’m just like, touch starved, okay?” You’re definitely just blushing out of embarrassment, at this point. 

Yoongi starts to ponder if he crossed too far of a line, but you continue anyway.  You huff, indignant and desperate to cover your ass. This is not how you ever imagined telling Yoongi you were ever interested in him, sexual or not. 

“Not everyone is like, the campus pussy magnet and gets to fuck whenever they want,” You say. 

He rolls his eyes. “Okay, I’m not the campus pussy magnet. We’re... not so different. I haven’t been with anyone, um, in a while.” Now Yoongi takes his turn to blush and stutter. He does that thing he always does when he’s nervous, runs a hand through his hair and lets it rest on the nape of his neck.  

“I find that hard to believe. No need to lie out of pity. Like, come on. Look at you. You’re all…” You gesture down his body, “And you have that whole vibe going on, and you’re tall, and you have good taste in cologne, and-and-and you play the piano , and ugh. You should know that by now.” You babble on. You’re not that good at keeping secrets, anyway. Might as well let the cat out of the bag while you’re at it. 

Yoongi doesn’t say anything, but you’re not fazed. By now, you’re used to the long silences that elapse when you’re with him. You wait for him to talk first, just so you can discreetly enjoy the feeling of him straddling you for a little longer. You try to pass off the silence as you quietly fuming at him for calling out your lackluster sex life, but you’re really just trying get yourself together. 

Then he starts laughing. Again.  

“What are you laughing for now?” Your brow furrows in frustration. 

“Nothing, nothing, don’t be mad. I just didn’t think that tickling would be a turn on for you.” 

“It’s not!” 

“To be completely honest with you, you look like one of those really innocent soft girls on the outside but you’re actually like, into choking and have a secret sex dungeon.” He doesn’t seem to care that you’ve all but revealed your massive, terminal crush on him. 

You sigh, but you’re just glad he gave you something to fire back with. 

“You and I both know that the university dorms are too small for a sex dungeon, Yoongi. I can’t even have candles in my room. What sex dungeon is complete without candles?” 

“Oh, a devil in the details. The ambiance is important, I see…” That devious smile of his makes a comeback. 

“Oh, shut up. Give me the flashcards, four-eyes.” He relinquishes the flashcards, but he still continues to straddle you. 

“Woah, there’s no need to insult my glasses.”

You ignore him, desperate to move on from your momentary lapse in judgement. “Haydn?”

“1732 to 1809. What about music? Music must be important if you care about the ambiance. Answer my question.” 

You laugh to cover up how worked up you are. “Maybe you can find out after we finish reviewing. Scarlatti?” 

“1660 to 1725. What kind of music do you listen to? R&B, something sexy?” He sits up now, spurred on by your refusal to answer his questions. 

“Or do you listen to classical music then, too? Does Chopin get your blood flowing?” He’s being insufferable now.

You groan into the pillow. “Yoongiii, let’s focus.” 

“If it’s something like Liszt, I’m sure I have a couple recommendations.” 

Yoongi sits up straighter, waggles his eyebrows in a way you definitely shouldn’t find endearing. “Or, I could record something for you…” 

You snap. “Just, I don’t know, sometimes I listen to music?” Your attempts to stop the blushing are in vain, heat blooming across your cheeks and down your neck. It’s even harder to stop when it’s your embarrassingly short sexual history on the line. 

“I prefer dirty talk anyways…” You murmur under your breath, wishing he could just get the fuck off your case. The more he keeps talking about things like this, in that tone of voice, the harder it’s going to get to keep your ever-growing crush a secret. 

Still, some small part (let’s be honest, the monkey brain part of you) of you, the part of you that aches for him, wants to spur him on. 

“What was that?” 

“Nothing! Nothing.” 

“Hmm… something about dirty talk?” Fuck, does Yoongi have a good ear. He smiles. He knows he’s gotten you now. 

Okay, you should probably admit to yourself that he’s flirting with you now. The touches, the holding you down, the insistence on pushing this tiny matter, it all adds up. And the math says that Min Yoongi is flirting with you. 

“Mmm, nothing.” You snuggle a little deeper into his bedsheets, playing coy.

“You know, like during sex? Don’t make me tickle you again, because I will stoop that low.” 

“I don’t remember saying that…” You mock-pretend to ponder his question, catch your bottom lip between your teeth. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see his gaze fall downward. You know you’ve gotten him now. 

“Can you refresh my memory?” 

“Like… you know.” He shrugs. 

“I’m an auditory learner. Do you have an example?” 

“Hmm, let me think… I’ll tease you until you’re begging for me to touch you properly? Does that ring a bell for you?” 

“No…” You bring your hands to your face to cover up your blush, and because you can’t stand to look at him. Not when he’s talking to you like that, with that look in his eye, his hands on your body. “It doesn’t…” You laugh, even beneath his weight. 

He laughs. “I’m just teasing. You’re so cute when I get a rise out of you.” 

Oh. 

[uwuowotf2waslife]

How would they react to their S/O either being pregnant or wants a child? (You can ignore this if you already answered it)

Im a sucker for parent mercs headcanons

tw: mentions of abortions, miscarriages and a very sad ending

Scout -will have an aneurism, but also will also hug you and spend a whole day just run around announcing to anyone he sees that hell become a dad -given the fact he never had a perminant paternal figure throughout his life, except his older brothers or his moms boyfriends from time to time, he will be at least insecure and nervous about the whole procedure. He has seen pregnant women yes, but he has never been the one who impregnated them. He loathes hell end up like his dad and become a deadbeat, but he also knows how much life sucks without a dad so he’ll man up and with some reasurrance from S/O he will become a much, much better than his.  Soldier -proudly announces to the whole base than a new recruit will be arriving in approximately 9 months and prepares accordingly. -he makes a crib with the help of Engie and makes blankets and clothes with the help of Heavy, even asks medic for advice on how to treat common baby sicknesses or just tips to how make their arrival/ first year on the world easier. Will help you around but will insist you take it easy. Will spend lazy nights or evenings talking to your belly, telling his adventures/ stories from the war or just american history ( his version tho).

Pyro

( idk how to write about them sorry chief)

Engie

-this texan will pick you up and pepper you in kisses, It isn’t a secret, his biggest dream since he was a young man was to become a father and now itll finnaly become a reality. Hell become emotional ngl, he will cry and just hold you as tight he can without hurting the baby.

-he will make from scratch everything youll ever use for the baby up to their college graduation( Engie why we need a crib with a mini-sentry?) and will baby proof the whole house/ base/ workshop. Lowkey will baby you during the pregnancy, especially the last months before the birth, he can’t believe his child will finnaly come in his life and he can’t stop spoiling you because he feels somewhat bad for the hardships of pregnancy ( morning sickness, back pain, the bby being a wannabe rodeo horse, the ussual)

Demo

-drinks a whole barrel of scrumpy after you announced that to him and passes out.

-wakes up and basically has both a panic attack and just so much joy, he has never felt that way in all of his life. Will try to stay as sober as he can druing the pregnancy, can’t have you laboring while he is vomiting like a cat in the hospitals bathroom. He can’t say he had a happy childhood neither that he was dying to become a dad, but he isn’t one to back down from the challenge. He is given the chance to make amends with his poor upbringing and ensure that the next generation of his bloodline won’t suffer like he did. Will buy lots of plushies and maybe ask advice from the people of the orphanage he was raised on how to raise a baby since his mother didnt raise him until he was a much older kid.

Heavy

-nearly dies on the spot. Family meant the world for him and now, he is finnaly able to start his own. For the first time in your relationship, he will openly cry in front of you and hold you while he is shaking with so many emotions

- phones his mother daily and basically creates a series of notepads filled with advice/old wives tales for caring for children. He already knows some basic stuff from raising his sisters but he wants to be 100% sure he will ace it. Having his father dying at a young age puted a lot of pressure in him to “grow” up and mature, so he makes his existances goal to make their childhood everything his wasnt. Que daily visits to the medic and being practically only allowed to breathe and eat, he really doesnt want anything to happen to you or your child, especially if you belong on the smaller/shorter type of people. He spends hours of his daily reading books in russian or talking to your belly and is ready to do everything to make your life easier, he will even knit baby clothes and cute blankets with small bears on them or small ines from poems on them, a bearskin baby blanket/coat is a must.

Medic

-he is no that happy tbh, he thinks hes far too old and his sperm isn’t as “strong” as itd be ifhe was younger, he has a nagging fear because of his age youll have a miscarriage or a difficult pregnancy.

-but once he saws the joy in your eyes and realise that hey, better late than never, he will try his best. He makes sure your pregnancy is smooth and does daily checkups on you and the baby, he is almost paranoid. You should help him relax or he will have a breakdown during the later months, because he is beyond terrified that somehow he will fuck up the birth and either permantly hurt you or the baby ( headcanon he will create twins, just imagine his silent mental freakout while he feels around and feels/hears two heartbeats). He needs comfort, but he will spend hours just talking to the baby about medical stuff or his experiences ( yes you will hear the skeleton story, multiple times). He isn’t a stable man, but he strives to make you and them happy so he is down to sacrifice everything he can.

Sniper

-faints when he hears the news, but scoops you up and spinns you around when hes over that initial shock.

-he is terrified and he is pretty open about it. He has barely enough social skills to speak with adults, he fears how useless hes around children.He needs constant reasurance or he will have the biggest mental breakdown he will ever have in his life. He can’t say he had shitty parents, but he also isnt a paternal man. He needs you to be the more hands on so he will feel comfortable with the idea. Engie and him will renovate the Van to have a built-in crib/bed and he will consult Medic for almos anything/ pick you up and run to medic if you feel the smallest hinge of pain. Once he feels the baby kicking or sees them on the machine ( idontrememberthenamesorry) he will cry and kiss your belly. He knows he wont be the best dad buthe will try his darnest to be the best dad he can be and provide all the love and the support for his child or children ( i lowkey see him as the type of guy who starts very insecure and then breed like a rabbit)

Spy

-oh mon fuck dieu, will faint and need medical assistance to wake up

-he thinks hes wayyy too old to have any more children, he believes ( a very common belief among the era/although somewhat debunked nowadays) that his sperm after so many decades its deffective and he doubts the pregnancy will even last that long to result to a child. But also he knows that he can’t leave another woman behind anymore, been there, done that, he’s a deadbeat many years now. He pays child support tho, but he knows all the money of the world can’t replace a father in a childs life. Furthermore his terrified of having a public family tree ( i think even if hes a fuckboy, he might was raised pretty hardcore catholic so in his head if you are to have his child and him being there for the both of you, it means he must also marry you). He has many enemies and he knows they are waiting for a chance to sink their teeth into someone that is dear to him. So he presents you a choice, either abort the baby and hell forget the whole situation happened and force medic and Engie either to create the most effective birth control, or to give him the most effective vasectomy there can be, or that you must understand he can’t stay because he doesnt want his enemies to hurt you and your child. He will come and go in your life , if you choose to keep them and send you a fat child support, but he can’t be seen with his child or have any legal documents with them. If you choose to abort, well better prepare to hold his hand while he gets his peepee pipe cut.