#only to find people who would rather slap the names and faces of the characters I like on their own fetishes

[artist-issues]

I’m so enjoying the whole “Harry Potter is good but whenever the Marauders pop in I feel like I could be reading an even better story” vibe, that I go into the tags to search and see Marauders fan stuff, and what are you guys doing?

…I mean I know I’m like 28 years late to the party, but what? Was Harry Potter like…the first fandom that ever just went insane and completely ignored what the characters in the canon material were actually like, so that they could make self-satisfying headcanons and slap the names “Lupin, James, Sirius,” on top?

Is this where the “yeah I really love this carefully-created, artfully-portrayed teenage boy character, so I’m naturally going to prove that love by oh completely re-writing his personality and interpersonal relationships in my own headcanon.” came from? From the Marauders and Harry Potter?

I mean jeez, where are you getting some of this stuff? I’m no expert. I know I just started reading these. But Rowling’s characterizations seem pretty straightforward, so when I look at the most prominent fan-accepted headcanons, it’s hard not to be like…Did you read these? Are we reading about the same characters, because this character in this book does not match with your webcomic. Is this the same character? Do you even like them?

[azulsluver]

I just want to ramble a little bit but- My personal scenario/headcanon for Bully au (which by the way, I love your writing) is that maybe one day reader decides to disappear, even if for a little while, maybe they just hide in some place for a long period of time (or hilariously and sneakily find a way to avoid their bullies throughout an entire day, or even crazier a whole week!!). They're so emotionally destroyed that they start to actually believe their insults and awful treatment they endured, and so they decide to just isolate themselves further somewhere no one can "be burdened by me"- Which in turn causes everyone else to at first get pissed off and then more and more (slightly, very slightly) worried that their punching bag is missing.... Perhaps, even have escaped them? 👀 I would love to see who loses their composure first, even if they don't admit their obsession at all lmao

Anon you don’t know what you’re doing to me //0//

tw. Bully!characters, no one takes you seriously kinda, yandere, stalking, baby tantrums.

This was more crack than anything serious…idk what happened but rants bellow!

They genuinely start tweakin:

Riddle, Deuce, Kalim, Malleus, Jack, Silver, Ruggie, Idia, Vil

They’re the ones that usually have their eyes on you, to find out that you’re missing and not at a place they SPECIFICALLY told you to be/stay flares their attention. Sure they can last a couple of days without you but a week? Nuh uh, they think they’re responsible for whatever you do, once they find you you’re getting a whole lecture. Telling you they’d get in trouble if they hadn’t found you sooner but let’s be real here.

But if you hid in a place far far away from them (which is impressive and impossible tbh) they’re already having a meltdown. Biting fingernails, aggressively running their fingers through their hair. All of that, and the ones who usually stay composed in situations like these (Ruggie/Riddle/Malleus) start to overthink so bad that they look beyond stress. It’s the thought that maybe you ran away from them or worse got kidnapped or lost. Which makes them have more of a reason to keep a tighter leash on you.

Ok but Kalim, Idia and Deuce cry like babies and throw tantrums.

Let the imagination work so think of Vil sitting on the kitchen table with his hair tied up and a face mask on while wearing a robe, a cup of coffee in his hands as he stares off into the distance that looks like he’s about to stab someone. He deadass thinks he’s growing grey hairs and has eyebags because his favorite punching bag is missing after two weeks. Who is he gonna step on now..

Gets pissed off:

Leona, Ace, Azul, Sebek, Epel, Jamil

“But why?” Is what they said when they perfectly understand the problem. Do they feel bad? No. In fact people like Leona and Azul can go through days without you because they’re always busy with something rather than terrorizing you. BUT you have to understand that as much as they pretend to not care they aren’t willing to clean up the mess after your pity party.

Jamil and Sebek are only mad about you disappearing is because of Malleus and Kalim’s whining. Please save them.

Ace and Epel are the ones who are mega mad as in a corny way. “How dare my punching bag run away from me and disappear for days!!” Typa stuff. Unbeknownst to them they double the insults and it makes you even more depressed lmaoo.

Ehhh Jamil may actually panic as well, because when Kalim isn’t happy no one is. And he does misses you personally, worries when he finds you (which is really scary to [Name’s] pov bc why is he so caring??) he’s all over you to make sure you aren’t injured or anything. Still pissed so he might slap the back of your head a couple of times and lecture you + same thing goes when Sebek finds you except he doesn’t comfort you.

Thinks it’s amusing:

Rook, Jade, Floyd, Trey, Cater, Lilia,

“Ohoho did I go overboard?” Yea you did. Anyways little shits don’t feel bad in fact they think it’s funny and cute that you disappeared because you couldn’t handle the insults and took it for granted. Lilia and Jade giving you false comfort just to do it all over again when you make a mistake. They probably already know your hiding spots and camp there to experiment how long it’ll take for you to come crawling back.

Maybe, just a little bit that Trey feels bad. He coddles you for a while then goes right back to gaslighting because he’s always right and when he says these things to you it’s because you’re wrong!! The type to restrict his affections if you decide to go into another episode of running away and crying. Cater knows where ya at bc you have location on.

At first Floyd was pissed because his resting place is missing, like bae where you go? But eventually he understands where you went because for some reason he’s bullying everyone around him and stalking your location to see where ya at. Mocks you once he finds you, really mean but it wasn’t “entirely” intentional. Like he knows he’s at fault and is trying to cheer you up by mocking your “problems”. Ok but don’t do that again or he’s going on the genuinely tweakin box.

We all saw Rook being in this section no surprise. Knows every little place you could be right now, has his eyes on you 24/7. “My love I didn’t mean to say your lips are chapped and you can use some Vaseline but the whole thing would be gone isa joke :(“ it’s not. Purposely picks out your insecurities so you can do another runaway.

[gaintsnowflake]

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐀

PARING - george karim x reader

ONESHOT -  in which you give george a book with notes written in the margins

TRIGGERS - none

A/N - this is very fluffy! First time writing in second person, I wanted to write in third it just didn’t sound right so I decided to try something new. I apologize for grammor and spelling mistakes, I am my own editor so I am unable to get everything

WORD COUNT - 0.9k ( short but sweet )

masterlist

GEORGE UNWRAPPED the present, tilting his head as he found a book with an unfamiliar title. On top of it was a card with neat handwriting.

"What does it say, George?" Lockwood asked, curious to not only who got him the gift but what the note said.

This gift that George was holding appeared this morning outside. It came nicely wrapped, in brown paper with a rope ribbon, with the words 'for George' written in cursive. None of the four people who lived in the house knew who it came from, well that's not exactly true, but that is what George believes.

It was odd, that the stranger, knew that it was Georges's birthday, and even weirder how they knew no one was home. It was left for the group to find after they left to go take George out for birthday breakfast.

"It says something about how they hope I enjoy the reading, and to make sure to read the marginalia," George looked up from the note, a very puzzled look on his face.

"Marginalia?" Lucy asked, unsure of the words meaning.

"Notes in the margins," Lockwood clarified, reaching out to inspect the book.

George gave it to him as you looked on, attempting to look as puzzled as the others.

"Does the handwriting look familiar?" you asked, moving slightly in your seat next to George to get a glance at the all-too-familiar note.

"I don't think I have seen it before, definitely not yours, it would take you ages to write this neat," he commented showing you the note fully.

He was right, the lettering on the note was very neat and precise unlike yours which was rather sloppy and quick. But what he didn't know was how long it took you to write as neatly as shown on the note.

Before you could make a comment back, Lockwood gasped and Lucy slapped her mouth shut, drawing the attention of them, who were very much reading the notes at the very back of the book. They looked at the both of you, eyes wide.

You made sure George wasn't looking at you before giving them a threatening look.

"What? Does it say who wrote it?" George asked, making you look at him much calmer than at the two.

"No, no, just a character died," Lucy lied, well attempting, as she failed because of her terrible lying.

Lockwood shut the book quickly and started talking to George attempting to cover up the lie.

He did rather well, given George told him to shut up and took the book back without looking inside it. You felt your anxiety briefly go away since he didn't even attempt to open the book in front of the group.

"I am going to excuse myself, I have research to do and now a book to read," he commented before getting up and grabbing the note that lay on the table in front of you as he started to leave.

"What? Georgie, it's your birthday, why are you researching?" You ask, taken aback by his sudden rush.

"Because if I don't do it it's not going to get done," He comments before fully walking out of the room.

You waited until you heard his door close to question the two in front of you.

"What did you read?"

"Lockwood you owe me doughnut," Lucy said ignoring your question.

"y/n," Lockwood drew out your name, "You were supposed to wait for him to ask you out. Now I owe Lucy a doughnut."

He sighed as you gave them a questioning look, before realizing that they had been betting on you and George.

"When did you drop that off anyway? You were in front of us when we left and you were the last when we got back," Lucy asked, taking a biscuit from the table.

"You guys were betting on us?" You asked, avoiding the question.

Both Lockwood and Lucy looked at each other before standing up and spilling bullshit excuses to leave. You only smiled as you were the last left in the kitchen.

--

George was nearly done with the book, it was about eleven at night, just under five hours from when he started it. George attempted to get the research done, but the mystery book was busy taunting him, forcing him to read it. Now here he sat when everyone else had gone to sleep.

He found himself laughing or smiling at the comments in the margins, writing some of his own notes as a response. Now here was watching as the main character finally kissed the love interest. Only for him to see a small note written in the margins in half-familiar handwriting. The neat handwriting blended in with another, the handwriting of his best friend, or crush if you will.

"This should be us - y/n"

His breath stopped as he choose to read the rest of the notes on the page, realizing the more they went the more the handwriting blended with yours.

He kept reading the book, curious to see the rest of your notes. His breath hitched as he read the epilogue. It was a wedding scene, it took place after the war the book was based on. The soldier had finally gotten his love interest.

The words written next to it were something that startled him, as he heard your voice read in his head, "Will you be my boyfriend?"

His brain stopped as he read the words that soon followed. It was a sappy love confession, where you wrote about all of your happiest memories with George.

Without skipping a beat, George left his room, forgetting that he was in nothing but a baggy shirt, that thankfully went down to his low thigh. He dashed to your room, nearly running. He didn't even knock as he knew that you were long asleep.

He shook you awake with his one hand, calling out your name just barely above a whisper, with the other he grasped onto the book.

"What? Georgie? What's go-?"

"Yes, the answer is yes."

"What?"

He held up the book as your mouth opened in an o-shape.

"Yes."

Without waiting for another word, you took your opportunity and kissed him. Thankfully he kissed back.

"I am so glad you read the MARGINALIA."

[pedrostylez]

How The Crow Flies - pt. 8

Javier Peña x fem!reader x Frankie Morales crossover

Word count: 3.4k

Chapter Summary: You return to the apartment Javier set you up in, and find him waiting for you

Chapter Warnings and Disclaimers: 18+ only. I am not responsible for what you read on the internet. You have been warned! Locations and descriptions of places may be inaccurate in comparison to each story (Narcos and Triple Frontier). Timelines are obviously different between the two stories, so we are going to meet in the middle and say we are in the early 2000s. These are not necessarily canon characters in regard to how they act, how they treat people, and their current relationships. Hurt feelings, mentions of violence, hitting, slapping, mean words (again we got a Capricorn reader who maybe feels bad for putting Javi in this situation) mentions of fucking others, some jealousy, Javi big time emotionally damaged, shower fingering sort of smut as a way to make it up to reader, DUBCON mentions and references

A/N: Thank you guys for being patient. Honestly, February has been one of the worst months ever for me on a personal level, and so writing has both been difficult and all I would rather do. I'm thinking about how best to write the next 2 chapters, and part of me thinks I can really just have it be 1 more...we will see! If I have missed any tags for trigger warnings, please let me know and I will fix it. Thank you for reading!!!

Taglist: @thevoiceinyourheadx @suzdin @survivingandenduring @bariskaplans @inept-the-magnificent @casa-boiardi @paleidiot @darkheartgatita @missladym1981 @mellymbee

It’s all mostly a blur.

Driving up to the apartment and noticing Javier’s vehicle parked in the driveway. The tuft of his hair poking over the top of his seat, lolled to one side as if he was asleep. 

The sun on your face as you slide sunglasses over your eyes, warming your skin as you unlock the front door. 

The way Javier’s car door shuts behind him, calling your name and following you into the apartment. It’s like you barely hear him call your name as he trails you up to the doorway.

Staring at Javier and seeing only Frankie, wondering what he is doing in the moment is the only thing you can think about. The ghost feeling of Frankie’s lips on yours as he whispered a goodbye to you just a few hours ago. His smile as he pulled you back to him, telling you to not come back to the jungle unless it was to “ruin these assholes’ day.” The way his thumb and finger pinched gently at your chin when you rolled your eyes; the way he couldn’t stop looking at your mouth until he finally leaned in to kiss you again. 

You couldn’t get those things out of your head. Swirling, swirling, swirling around as you walked around your apartment and began sliding things into cardboard boxes. 

The way Javier asks where you have been doesn’t really register. 

No, nothing is really memorable until his fingers grasp around your wrist and spin you around to face him. His eyes, not trained on your face but on your shirt, welling with tears. “What happened to you?”

It was all just noise until he says that. You blink, shaking your head and pulling your wrist out of his grip. He follows you, hesitant but determined as he speaks again. “Please, hermosa I-I’ve been so worried���”

“You blew my cover.” It spills out of your mouth, holding your hand up toward his chest to silently tell him to stop moving. 

He pauses, visibly paling and mouth agape like a fish. It was hard to surprise him–you had come to know that over the months of working with him. Right now, you have somehow done so, his eyes searching yours desperately for an answer. 

He blindly is reaching for the wall behind him, his knuckles flushing white as he squeezes at the door frame his hand landed on. “What?” He hiccups, looking you over and eyes continuously going to your shirt-over and over and over. 

You set the cardboard box down in your hands-half full of the trinkets he had told you to decorate with. You have this urge to suddenly go back to your own apartment. “You called me so many times that I was cornered, and I had to say who I was to not have my neck sliced open.”

It feels like a bit of an exaggeration at this moment, especially after this morning with Frankie. But it is the truth-you do not doubt that if you hadn’t said who you were, that Frankie would have killed you in that moment. 

Javier’s eyes flash back to your shirt again, and you finally look down. You find your shirt stained with dried blood, likely from the cuts that Frankie put there. “Did…d-did you get hurt?” His voice is barely above a whisper, hands releasing the door frame to run through his hair.  

You look back down to the task at hand, placing drinking glasses into the box. This overwhelming feeling of annoyance starts to course through you, hands beginning to shake as you stack each glass. The clinking, the piercing sound of glass on glass starts to rub at your bones unpleasantly. 

You close your eyes to try and recenter yourself, Javier’s pleas fading to the background again as he asks more questions. A loud crash has you opening your eyes again, glass shattered at your feet from where you’ve missed the box. Breaths come heavy, your chest rising and falling more rapidly as your anger comes to a head. “I had a fucking knife held to my throat because of you.” 

It comes barreling out of your mouth, the same way you said your cover was blown, but more angry. You’ve whirled around to him, clenching your jaw and lifting a shaking finger. “And it’s your fucking fault!”

Javier shakes his head adamantly, sniffling and blinking rapid to hold back tears. Brokenly, he asks for you to wait, to hold on before flying completely off the handle. 

You can’t help how you’re still shaking with anger, stepping forward to give Javi a shove to step away from you. “You called me so many times that I was backed into a corner, had a knife held to my throat!”

“Please, baby you weren’t coming home–”

“I had to say I was DEA! This is your fault! You called when Frankie–”

“Frankie?” His hands have clasped around your wrists now, the sadness and worry swiped away from his face in an instant. You realize your mistake, naming Frankie out loud as the person that discovered who you were, instead of one of the security guards. “What the fuck was Frankie doing keeping you an extra day? What were you doing together?”

You scoff, attempting to pull away from him but his grip tightens. Javi’s eyes are wild with anger, searching for answers he still can’t seem to find. “That’s none of your fucking business.”

“It is my fucking business when you’re getting threatened by some drug addict that was practically fired out of his little squad he was in with Santiago Pope.” He snarls, releasing your wrists and looking around your apartment, pacing. “Really? None of my concern? Are you fucking serious right now?”

“I’ve gotten a lot of information from him.” You attempt to sound secure in your answer, clearing your throat to have it come out louder than before. You didn’t know that about Frankie. “He wouldn’t have known or found out if you hadn’t been calling me over and over.”

Javi has the audacity to begin laughing, scratching at the back of his neck and glaring in your direction. “What, do you keep me as ‘PENA DEA’ on that phone? Are you that fucking stupid?” He’s reaching into his back pocket for his cigarettes and lighting one, blowing smoke directly in your face to piss you off.

You reel back, surprise overtaking your insecurity about Frankie’s past with another slew of anger.  “Are you stupid enough to call me over and over and not think that maybe I was busy gathering information? Like that maybe they are getting raided today? Right now!”

Javi stubs out the cigarette on the counter, watching the plastic burn slightly before throwing it into the sink. “Right now?” He asks, watching your single nod in defiance. He runs his hands through his hair again, not able to hold back the groan of frustration.  “And you didn’t think to come back sooner? To call me on the way? You waited until you were here?”

“They aren’t after what we’re after–”

“Stechner has been on my ass since I’ve had you on this. He’s sniffing around for a mistake, and you’re prancing around being an actual fucking whore?” He yells, face heated and eyes wide to take you in. 

And what can you do, exactly? Lie and have it be another argument? Not say the truth and have him know that you have, in fact, been sleeping with your own informant? Instead of a shrug, or an apology, or an admittance, you pull out the only thing in your arsenal that you can think of. “How is that any different than what you did before?”

He shouts as if pained by your words, hunching over himself before standing straight to point a finger at you. “I can’t believe you!” 

Now it’s your turn to laugh, your hand rubbing at your forehead.  “What were you actually fucking expecting right now, Javi? You asked me to sleep around with men for information that wasn’t even part of an active mission. And then you blew my cover, and had the audacity to yell at me!” You screech back. 

When he doesn’t respond immediately you’re back to pushing him, wanting him out of your space. You want him to leave, to leave you alone.

To his credit, Javier takes your shoves, your slaps, and only closes his eyes to breathe deeply through his nose. You wonder briefly if you are going to leave a bruise on him. 

He opens his eyes and stares at you, waiting patiently for your shoves to reduce to almost nothing. When he speaks it comes out calm, ready to try again. “You could have called me. Before you stayed the extra night, after he held a knife to your throat-you should have called me if you needed me.”

If you needed me. “I don’t need you.”

The pain in his eyes is apparent, reaching for you again to hold you steady against him. He furrows his brows, shaking his head and desperate to get his point across to you. “You don’t get it.”

You shut your eyes, refusing to look at him. He gives you a small shake, sighing deeply.”You don’t understand how terrified I was? After we fought you haven’t spoken to me, or called me back and I’ve been barely holding it together.” You go to interrupt him, but he continues. “I thought I lost you last night. Thought you were trapped, or hurt and…I shouldn’t have called you so much that it put you in danger, but if you had just told me what was going on–”

He sighs heavily, clasping a hand around the back of your neck to hold you still as his forehead presses to yours. “I need you.” A whimper bubbles out of your chest, listening to his rough swallow. “This isn’t about the money, or the side mission. I need you; do you understand?”

You open your eyes, watering and wide as you stare him down. You’re searching, trying to see if he’s lying. “You can’t guilt trip me.”

Javier holds his breath, pulling you impossibly closer. Your chest is pressed to his, and you’re sure that he can feel your heartbeat through the layers of clothing, pounding. “I’m not. Please, hermosa hear me.” 

It’s quiet between you, your breath puffing over his face in humid clouds. You soften slowly, tension leaving your body until you’re leaning all your weight against him. You can’t help it; you’re trying to understand. He was concerned, worried, not thinking as a boss, but as someone that cares for you. He sighs, wrapping his arms around your shoulders to hold you close to him. “I thought I lost you, baby. I’m sorry.”

You’re silent for a while longer, nodding when you finally decide. “I’m sorry.” You whisper against his chest, hands grabbing at the fabric. “I should have called you back.”

Javi hums, rubbing his hand down your spine gently. You pull away from him, sniffling and looking up to his face. “There’s a whole team of them…just raiding the place for money. There won’t be any proof they were there.”

Javier nods, pressing a kiss to your forehead in acceptance. “Let them take the money.”

Javier ushered you out of the apartment quickly, packing what boxes you’ve started into the back of his car and promising to stop by at a later time to get the rest of it. 

He’s such a fuck up. 

He thought he could handle this months ago, when he first met you and got you involved in this side mission. He thought that you would give some intel, they would do a raid, and that would be the end of it. 

He was sorely mistaken. 

You’re next to him in his car as he pulls away from the apartment, and his hand slips over yours. You’re stiff for a moment before looking over at him and sighing, squeezing his fingers in reassurance. “You’ll never have to do that again.” He promises, and he’s not sure if he’s promising never to do undercover again, or to being away from him. 

He doesn’t want to define it in case you don’t want the latter. 

Javi keeps quiet when you don’t respond, squeezing the meat of your palm in his and rushing to his own apartment. He hadn’t told you explicitly but he was not going to leave you alone to your own devices; the dried blood on your shirt had him spiraling enough that he wanted to watch over you tonight. 

He has so many things he wants to say, but none of them come out as he unlocks his door and takes your bag for you. He wants to ask if you’re actually okay, if this is what you expected, if you were still mad at him. Were you just appeasing him to stop arguing, or were you genuinely sorry? What happened with Frankie beyond a knife to your throat that made you not tell him what was going on?

None of it comes out as you tell him quietly that you are going to take a shower. He just nods, watching you step away from him and shut the door softly behind you. No, nothing comes out of his mouth until a few minutes later after the water has started, that he hears deep breaths and sniffles echoing off the tile. 

He didn’t want to push you, but the sound of you crying was something he couldn’t handle. It urged him forward, lightly knocking on the door and calling your name. When you don’t respond he opens the door, eyes falling to your defeated figure in the stream of water. 

“Are you alright, hermosa?” He asks, watching as you step away from the water to glance at him. Your eyes are red, waterlogged and shivering as you nod at him. 

“Y-yes. Yeah.” You sniffle, shaking the water from your head and attempting to cover yourself. “I’m fine.”

Javier pauses, stepping forward to close the bathroom door behind him. It’s hot in the bathroom, humid clouds floating from the shower head to him and fogging the mirror. It makes it harder to breathe, but he doesn’t mind if he gets to be closer to you. Javier observes you, not letting his eyes wander much until you face him fully. He can’t help but let his eyes fall to the neat lines across your chest and collarbone, red and angry staring back at him. “What’s that?”

You look down like you weren’t aware you had cuts on your chest, dumbfounded for a moment before you give a noncommittal shrug. “Just a few scratches.”

Javi shakes his head, stepping toward the glass shower door and popping it open. A closer look is all he tells himself, just to inspect that they are fine and that you won’t die from bleeding out in the middle of the night, or of infection at a later date.

His hand reaches out tentatively, running his finger across one of the marks and looking up to your face to watch for a reaction. When you don’t have one, he sighs and let’s his eyes settle on yours. “I’m sorry.” He whispers, his thumb drifting up to the skin covering your pulse, rubbing back and forth as soothingly as possible. 

“You don’t need to be.” you say just as quietly, lifting a hand and resting it on his chest. The water on your hand seeps through his shirt, leaving a hot brand on his skin.

Javi’s throat closes, emotions running high. “I should have protected you.”

You shake your head, chastising him. “There was nothing more you could have done, Javi.”

He winces, pressing himself further against you. His shirt is fully soaked now, but he doesn’t care. “I shouldn’t have let you go in the jungle.”

“It’s okay, Javi.” You pat at his chest, pulling your hand away as if you’re only just now realizing that you’ve gotten his clothing wet. His own covers yours, bringing it back to the imprint you’ve left–he wants to feel you against him.

“Please, forgive me.” He begs; he knows he’s begging. He doesn’t beg as far as he is concerned, but something in him is crumbling. He leans forward and presses his lips to your skin, above your brow, your cheekbone, your jaw. He breathes heavily in your ear, shutting his eyes tightly.

He feels your slight nod, a quiet “I forgive you, Javi.” and he’s choked up with tears. He’s rushing to join you in the shower, a couple buttons popping off his shirt as it slides down his arms, your fingers going for the button of his jeans. 

Once he’s fully naked and pressed against you, the water is beating down on his back, your fingers drawing gentle shapes up his spine and his face resting against your shoulder. If he opens his eyes, he can see the cuts directly in front of him, and it makes him shutter more. “I’ll make it right, I promise.”

“There’s nothing to make right.” You sigh, tapping with only your index finger as you think. “We’ll raid Lorea, and it will be over.”

He nods, pressing his lips to your collarbone and feeling the mark from Frankie’s knife. He wants to punch himself for not telling you sooner about what he found out. About how Fransisco Morales was a drug addict, that he was not mentally in the right place the last time he was in the military. It feels suffocating, knowing that you had been around him, speaking to him, fucking him. 

How did it all go so wrong?

His hands drift from your shoulder blades, down to your hips and give you a squeeze. “Let me make it up to you.” He gruffs, finally making eye contact with you. He sees your confusion, your sudden realization of what he means.

“You…you don’t have to.” You say quietly, letting his fingers drift to the curve of your stomach. Watching him, carefully assessing. 

“I want to. If you want me to?” He watches your pupils blow wide, interest peaking as his thumb brushes through the patch of hair above your center, moving down, down, down. 

You sigh heavily, swallowing and nodding again. Javier is convinced that if he can make you feel good like he knows he can, then maybe you’ll actually start to forgive him. Even if it’s slowly. His fingers drift between your folds, up and down as lightly as possible. You squirm against him, spreading your legs just enough to let his knee hold one to the side. 

Javi looks down, leaning a bit away to get a better look at you while his other hand is still wrapped around the back of your neck, soothing circles into your jaw. “You’re so pretty, baby.” Javier growls through clenched teeth, letting a finger swipe quick circles over your clit. 

You pant, reaching a hand out to his bicep and squeezing. No response, just the acknowledgement of your moan is all that he needs. 

A single finger is pressed into you, curling over and over as his eyes flick back up to yours. He’s desperate to watch you unfold, feel you pulse around a finger, anything to give him the approval, the want that he desires. 

You’re quick to finish, his thumb brushing back and forth over your clit while his finger curls inside of you, his eyes on yours as he talks you to completion. “So fucking perfect, in my place, taking what you want from me.” He whispers, pressing his lips to yours as if to seal the deal between you. 

When he pulls away, your eyes opening and half lidded in exhaustion, he reaches for the shower knob and turns it off. Javi helps you out of the shower, drying the both of you efficiently before guiding you into his bedroom where he’s already placed out clothes for you to sleep in. “I’ll be in the kitchen, if you need something, okay? Get some rest.”

He waits for your small smile and nod, hanging by the door for a moment to see his shirt fall over your torso before heading to the kitchen. He planned to stay up for the rest of the evening and through the night, planning this raid on Lorea and letting you finally get some rest. 

[williamrikers]

King of the Cardboard Castle

- thoughts on kanghan after episode 2 -

i just rewatched the episode (because it slaps so hard, i'm fully on board and invested in this show now), and i want to write a little something on kanghan because i see some people in the tag confused by his choices. why did he go to sailom's with a gun? why did he end up comforting sailom? i think it's all very understandable from his character's perspective.

so, to me, that cardboard castle tells us everything we need to know about kanghan: his power is an illusion, built on an unsteady foundation, and could be torn down at any moment. kang is intimately aware of this and does everything he can to try and consolidate the little power and influence he has by any means necessary.

why use a gun to threaten sailom?

but sailom isn't afraid or deferential. he never, EVER is.

kanghan needs to feel dominant. he needs to feel powerful, and literally the only guy at school who keeps defying him is sailom. sailom keeps coming out on top time and time again because he's smarter than kang and never actually starts shit, he just reacts to what's happening, making him basically immune to being ratted out to people in positions of authority. even kang's own grandmother sees through kang's shitty attempts at manipulation and chastises kang in front of the principal.

kanghan's only power is that over the kids at school, truly a king of a very small and incredibly meaningless kingdom. but it is effective in making him feel powerful: all of the other kids defer to kanghan or are openly terrified of him (we saw them all dutifully lining up to have the videos removed from their phones, none of them are ever going to challenge kang).

and kang resents that--has a deep need to put sailom in his place, because he wants that feeling of total power. he wants all of his classmates to defer to him, not just 90% of them. at this point, it's turned into an obsession for him: make sailom afraid just once. make him tremble before kang just once. make him get down on his knees JUST ONCE. (and no, there is no gay subtext at all to kang insisting again and again that sailom should get down on his knees. don't worry about it kanghan your secret gay fantasies are safe with me 😘)

like, he's tried everything else: threatening him physically, trying to get him fired from his job at the car wash, ACTUALLY getting him fired from his job tutoring, hurting his friends, trying to convince his grandmother to cancel his scholarship, taunting him about his home situation and lack of money, actually throwing money in his face/on the ground (from what i understand, a taboo in thailand). and none of it has worked to make sailom treat him with the respect and fear he thinks he deserves. sailom would rather have given up his scholarship than lie about what happened and wrongfully apologize to kang. at this point, i feel like kang is too far gone to be able to back out. he has set this goal for himself (humiliate sailom), and it's been eating his brain. he can't rest until he finally gets what he wants.

can i just put in a quick tangent in here gushing over CHIMON'S MICROEXPRESSIONS!!! god, this man is a joy to watch, just look at the money throwing scene in part 3/4; the depth of emotion chimon manages to convey with just the slightest changes of expression is incredible. i've said this before and i will say it again: chimon is one of the strongest actors on the gmmtv roster right now and i am in awe of his skill.

anyway, kang goes to sailom's house fully intent on humiliating him, but what he finds there is so much worse than any of his own bullying has managed to be. for all his talk, kanghan is not a particularly scary or successful bully: he's the king of the cardboard castle. his power is an illusion, propped up by his family name and his family's money. i don't think he would be capable of taking a hot iron and burning someone with it--the level of violence that sailom is subjected to (ON THE REGULAR, I MIGHT ADD) is completely out of kang's wheelhouse.

and i do think that at this point he genuinely feels for sailom. that he genuinely does feel sorry for him, because you can't be obsessed with someone to the point of going to their house with a gun without caring about them in some way. on the contrary, the kind of obsession kang has with sailom runs bone-deep, and i am absolutely team "kang is going to fall first and fall hard". he's already obsessed with the guy! he values sailom's emotional state in a way he doesn't anyone else's! (sure, initially it's because he wants to make sailom submit but all that obsessive energy has to go SOMEWHERE, right.)

seeing sailom cowering and crying does put things in perspective for kanghan, i think. the way he reaches out to him seems almost involuntary, the way he touches him is hesitant and unsure. but this does read as a very genuine and understandable reaction to me: no matter their differences at school, this is a person who kang knows and, in a twisted way, cares very much about. the normal human reaction at this point is to reach out, to offer comfort, no matter how you feel about the person. it would have been weirder to me if he hadn't, honestly.

also, a note on the use of "friend" by kang in this scene: i've seen people making a big deal out of this but it's absolutely not that deep. please correct me if i'm wrong but as i understand it, "puen" is also frequently used to refer to classmates/people in the same year at uni, no matter whether you're close to them or not. "friend" is just a translation choice which fits imo, because you wouldn't say "get away from my classmate" in english. you'd probably say "get away from my friend" instead, even if you're not really friends, and translation is also about what makes sense in the target language. so him saying that is not some big 180, he's basically just stating that he knows sailom from school.

anyway, where was i going with all of this? to me, kang's choices in this episode are all completely justified from his character's perspective. i neither find it odd that he tried to threaten sailom with a gun, nor that he ended up comforting sailom. because everything he is and claims to be is built on cardboard: the guy doesn't know himself. we know he has some deeply, DEEPLY repressed gay fantasies and that he gets obsessed with the first person to openly defy him because that threatens the stability of his cardboard castle. what if everyone realises that deep down, kanghan is a cringefail loser who is so starved for love and attention he would rather fill the hole in his heart with violence and cruelty than be honest about who he is? what if everyone finds out he's not as scary as he'd like to be?

the cardboard underneath kang is flimsy, and i'm pretty sure his castle is going to collapse pretty soon.

[issacharmastersdp18]

Legit saw someone call Coriolanus a sociopath.

Like, what?

Does your definition even remotely resemble the actual one?

I know it’s uncomfortable, sometimes, to analyze the antagonist and realize you have anything in common, but that’s no excuse to go around slapping labels on them.

IF YOU HAVEN’T READ AND/OR SEEN THE BALLAD OF SONGBIRDS AND SNAKES, THERE ARE PLOT POINTS AND DETAILS AHEAD. TURN BACK OR PROCEED WITH CAUTION IF YOU’RE AVOIDING SPOILERS.

He tried to avoid war.

Because he wanted to keep his power, yes, but also because he’d seen what war did to people.

This is a man who experienced some of the worst of humanity, at a very young age. Events which shaped him. People manipulating him, grooming him, to continue to uphold the system and the distance between District and Capitol. A man who felt the weight of continuing his family’s name (literally and figuratively) when he was a boy.

He was not born who he was when we first met him. He was molded into that person by circumstance and company.

If you pay attention, Coriolanus does care for people besides himself. (Granted one is his flesh and blood, but still) He’s not antisocial. Simply accustomed to being surrounded by a certain kind of people. He’s not amoral. He sympathized with Sejanus for a time. Not strictly disagreeing with his objections to the Games. Merely the way he went about it. Rather than having public outbursts and going rogue, biding his time. Quietly garnering support. Allies. Inherit his family’s wealth. Gain the finances and the power to implement lasting change. But Sejanus had no patience and couldn’t see that his impatience was only working against his intentions.

Though it didn’t make theatrical release, we can see Coriolanus is trying to keep the carnage to a minimum. “We agree a war could end humanity. Keep saying that.” Pair that with how he went about things. He first tried to have Katniss and Peeta calm the uprising. He didn’t want to kill anybody if he didn’t have to do so. As he says, he’s not wasteful. When that didn’t work, he THEN decided she had to be eliminated. Which culminated in the 3rd Quarter Quell. Where he hoped she would destroy her own public image before she died. That didn’t happen. 13 got Katniss to use as they pleased, so he took the opportunity to do the same with Peeta. Peeta, who had much more confidence in public speaking and a better stage presence. Someone with more impulse control. When Peeta went rogue, he could no longer use him for television. Still not wanting to kill anyone unnecessarily, Peeta wasn’t killed. He was turned into a weapon to kill the face of the rebellion. Then that didn’t work.

He admitted himself he was too focused on Katniss and Coin counted on that. He admitted he’d been bested. Rather than let Katniss “fuck around and find out,” he told her exactly what would happen. Though in denial, she did believe him. She knew he was right. She just couldn’t accept that her personally perceived enemy was not her only enemy. That she had been working with someone who she saw as equally bad. Someone who had been responsible for the death of her sister.

When you stop viewing antagonists as two dimensional “oh they’re the bad guy and they can’t possibly have a good reason for anything they’ve done,” and start realizing they are three dimensional (if written well) characters. People with experiences. Feelings. Thoughts. People whose motivations might not be as inhumane as you think. What he does isn’t any less wrong if he has a good reason. I’m not trying to excuse anything. I want you to be able to understand the point of the series. That anybody, given the right circumstances, can become Coriolanus. Or Coin. Or Dr. Gaul.

Dr. Gaul even makes a point of making that quite clear.

Hunger Games is a warning. A cautionary tale. A reminder that we must be careful, or we can become that which we fear.

Not just as individuals, but as a collective society.

We can slap a label on anybody. “Evil” “Sociopath” “Psychopath”

But those labels keep us from thinking critically. It’s important to discuss the how and why of things. When we label something simply as one of these words, we are giving ourselves reason not to do so. And because we don’t want to do that work. We don’t want to be confronted by the harsh realities of humanity, nature/nurture, etc. We will slap a label on anyone and anything any opportunity we get so we can remain in our comfortable bubble. Feeling unburdened by the responsibility each of us has to make and maintain a world where everyone has what they need and want for nothing.

While our elders aren’t always reliable examples (*cough* RNC *cough*), some of them are not only reliable, but good. Trustworthy. Filled with wisdom.

Donald Sutherland knows a thing or two because he’s seen a thing or two. It is not difficult to find the man discussing Coriolanus’ motivations and thought processes. He makes no attempt to paint the things Coriolanus has done in a better light. Only to explain how and why he arrived at the decision to do the things he does. Donald understands The Hunger Games the very way in which we all should understand it.

Yes, I practically worship the ground the man walks on. I admit that. However, I am not without reason.

Before you get the wrong impression, I have no delusions of him being any kind of messiah. He is just a man. A kind, funny, and intelligent man, but a man nonetheless. One of many people whose wisdom goes largely ignored and unheeded.

Rant over. For now.

[emetoniche]

Bahamas Chronicles: Part One I’d Rather The Car

Okay people, I finally did it! I finished my next fic. Not that it’s super long, I just take forever. I am super pleased to introduce my final two OCs of my little group, I hope you guys enjoy! (Also, this vacation is going to be a series, so more stories coming soon!)

TW: emeto, death, emotional trauma, suicide and divorce (very brief mention not relating to any of my characters)

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Darius looked up from his phone when he heard his name called across the airport.

“Darius! Hey man, over here!”

It took Darius a few seconds to find the source of the voice, but when he did, his face broke into a huge smile. Justin and the rest of the gang were threading their way through the throngs of people, said gang including Darius’s girlfriend Ariadne. Ari had the biggest grin on her face, her hair bouncing as she hurried towards him. When she reached him, she threw herself into his arms, burying her face in his neck. It had been so long since they had been together, almost two months. Darius had been called home to Germany after his dad had gotten very sick, but after the funeral, he had headed straight home. Only to find out all his friends were going on vacation to the Bahamas. Darius had decided to go along with them: he needed to de-stress after everything that had happened recently.

Justin and the rest finally caught up with him and Ari, and there was a significant commotion as they all shuffled around into a group hug, then took turns hugging Darius individually. “Glad you’re back bud,” Eddie said, slapping Darius on the back. Darius grunted, but smiled. He didn’t realize how much he had missed all of his friends, or their little quirks. Callum’s perpetual aviators, Justin’s simping over Roan, Ari’s crazy outfits, Roan’s sarcasm, or even Eddie’s habit of slapping his friends way too hard on the back.

“I missed you guys so much,” he breathed, looking around at all of them.

Roan groaned, rolling her eyes. “Alright, alright, we’ve hugged and kissed it all out, enough with the sappy stuff already.” Darius couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head. Yup, he was back home alright.

Adler, Darius’s pet fox, was staying with the zoology professor while Darius was on vacation, and the others had all found friends or family to watch their pets too.

Ari leaned into Darius, nuzzling into his neck. Darius buried his face in her dark hair for a moment, enjoying the smell of the coconut shampoo she used to keep her curls nice and tight. Too long, he thought, way too long since I’ve been able to do this.

Working their way through customs and security was difficult, as always, but Darius had never been so happy to do it. It meant he was back where he belonged: with his friends and his girlfriend. By the time the plane was being loaded, Darius had caught up on almost everything that had happened since he had been gone, from light gossip on who was dating who, to serious shit like the English professor’s divorce and subsequent suicide.

Boarding the plane went smoothly, Darius having pulled some strings to get all of them first-class seats. When his dad died, he had left Darius so much money he knew he would never be able to spend it all, so he had decided to splurge on the trip, treating all of his friends the way he knew his dad would have wanted. Darius and Ari had been seated together. Ari immediately set about hooking up a dual-headphone jack so they could watch one of their favorite horror films together. Around them, Eddie and Callum were fiddling with the snack compartments and Justin and Roan were pulling out the blankets they had been given.

The roar of the plane engine soon drowned out any noises from the back sections of the plane, leaving Darius alone with his girlfriend. They had just barely started the movie when the plane took off, the ground dropping away beneath them. Darius had chosen the seat furthest from the window because watching the ground so far below made him dizzy, but Ari was staring eagerly at the clouds as they flew by. “Ooh, Darius, look baby, that one looks like a dragon,” she squealed, pointing out the window.

Darius glanced out as for as long as he could without making his head spin. “Oh, yeah, cute,” he replied, returning to the movie. Before long, Ari followed suit, closing the window’s cover. The Cabin in the Woods occupied Darius for about forty-five minutes before he realized his stomach was starting to roil.

He nearly let out a miserable groan when he realized that in his excitement he had forgotten to take his Dramamine before the plane took off. It was definitely too late now, and besides, the Dramamine was in the overhead compartment in his carry-on bag. Standing up to get it would only make his head spin from the movement of the plane under his feet. He resolved to just focus hard on the film, absolutely refusing to acknowledge the growing nausea in the pit of his stomach.

Darius looked over at Ari to see if she had noticed his arm wrapped lightly over his stomach, but she had her eyes glued to the screen. Her lips were open in a look of surprise as a zombie lurched out of the ground towards one of the characters; her eyes were as big as dinner plates. A mix of thoughts swirled through Darius’s head as he watched her. On one hand, he just wanted to snuggle into her and whine like a little baby about his tummy. On the other hand, he didn’t want to make their first time back together in months miserable by being sick. His guilt won. He turned back to the movie, trying to ignore the sticky saliva building in his mouth.

It was so metallic tasting, like he was sucking on a metal lollipop or something. The stuff clung to the roof of his mouth, remaining even when he swiped his tongue around to get rid of it. By the time five minutes had gone by, Darius was beginning to give up on the hope that he could just keep his stomach in place with sheer will. It kept lurching into his throat every time the plane gave a slight bounce. A clammy sweat had broken over him, beads rolling down his forehead and into his eyes.

“Geez, these people are such idiots,” Ari groaned, laughing at the screen. She reached blindly out to put her hand on Darius’s leg. When she rested it on him, she could feel how tense the muscles were. She sat up a bit to look at him, confusion and concern written on her features. Darius tried so hard to look put together and okay, but the deep furrow in Ari’s brow let him know that he had failed miserably.

“Hey, everything okay baby,” she asked quietly, cupping his cheek in one hand. The word “yes” formed in Darius’s mind, but the word “no” came out of his lips. Apparently his subconscious was sick of him trying to be a big tough man and was ready to just give in to Ari’s care.

Ari hummed sympathetically. “I’m sorry, are you feeling air sick?”

Darius nodded slowly. “I-it happens every time I fly,” he managed. “I forgot to take my medicine before we took off…” Ari lifted her hand to sweep his hair away from his face.

“You should have said something right away, I have some Dramamine in my backpack,” she admonished gently. “Seems like it’s too late now.”

Darius considered nodding again, but dismissed the thought as a wave of nausea crashed over him when the plane gave a little jolt. A wet, sickly burp forced its way out of his mouth followed by a weak groan. He reached out to pull the curtain across the opening of his seat into the isle so nobody else could see him. He was embarrassed enough to have forgotten his medicine and was now probably, no wait, definitely, going to puke in front of his girlfriend.

When another burp sent a watery stream up his throat, Darius lurched forward, scrambling furiously at the seat pocket in front of him while he did his best to swallow down the sick. Ari managed to find a bag before he did. She shoved it into his hands, putting her hand on the back of his head to help position his mouth above the bag’s opening.

Darius’s breaths were coming fast and shallow as his chest hitched in a gag. Nothing but a tinted stream of water trickled from between his lips, dripping into the bag. He could feel Ari’s hand on his back and hear her voice gently encouraging him, which admittedly made him feel a bit better. At least she wasn’t completely disgusted by him right now.

This thought quickly vanished as a painful retch tore through him. A much heavier gush of puke flew up this throat, filling the bag about a quarter of the way. Darius barely had time to breathe before another horrid sounding retch slammed his stomach inward. This next flow lasted so long he had a single panicked moment where he was terrified he couldn’t stop. When he finally did, his chest heaved with huge breaths, trying to suck in as much air as he possibly could.

He had a few seconds respite this time before he heaved again, to his horror nearly filling the bag to the top. He could tell there was more to come, but there wasn’t room for it. His eyes wide, he whimpered at Ari, hoping she would understand. She apparently had already noticed the precariously filled sick-bag, because as soon as he stopped vomiting, she had another bag held under his chin, holding it herself this time.

Darius’s hand gripped her thigh, the other holding equally tightly to the already full airsickness bag. His breathing had started to quicken, practically hyperventilating as he fought to get in air between gags. His head was spinning and throbbing at the same time; his temples seemed to be pulsating to the beat of his heart. Somewhere in the back of his mind he could tell that he was getting himself worked up way too much, but when his vision started to swim with black spots he gave up on listening to that little voice.

His gags became a combination of choking gasps and grating retches until he felt Ari’s hand go to his chest, forcing him to sit upright. He was no longer actually vomiting: there was nothing left inside of him to get out. Instead, he was dry-heaving, his panic escalating the nausea he already had until he was simply unable to stop his stomach from rebelling over and over and over.

“Hey!” Darius heard a soothing voice calling to him through the black void that had filled his vision. “Darius, baby, you have to calm down, you’re making things worse.” Ari’s hands were cupping his cheeks, thumbs swirling circles on the soft skin in a comforting rhythm.

His stomach gave another lurch, the smallest trickle of bile falling from his lips. Because Ari had removed the sick bag to comfort him, the bile fell onto his lap, soaking into his black jeans. A chill ran down Darius’s spine at the disgusting sensation, but he was gaining enough control of himself to keep a gag back. Ari’s touch was grounding him, bringing him back around to the point where he could actually see clearly again. The black faded from his vision and his breathing slowed to a steady pace.

“You feeling better now,” Ari asked softly, leaning in to kiss his brow.

“Um, yeah, I think so…” Darius replied shakily, gulping hard. His stomach still felt pretty off, but he didn’t think he was in danger of puking all over the place anymore. “Can I get some of that Dramamine now?”

Ari smiled at him. “Of course baby, let me get it out of my bag, kay?” Darius instantly missed the warmth of her hands when she bent to fish the meds out of her bag, but it was worth it five minutes later when the stuff started to truly settle his stomach. And a good thing it did too, because the flight was another six or seven hours before they could land. With a sigh, Darius curled into Ari after lifting the arm rest separating them. His head on her lap, he closed his eyes, relishing the relief that fading into sleep brought him, the last sensation Ari’s hand rubbing slowly over his back.

[pedrospatch]

oh my god i love this story so much and i don’t know where to start.

this might be all over the place as i’m at work, but i just needed to get this second chapter in when i had some quiet/slow moments at my desk.

it hurts but it hurts SO GOOD. for as much as it makes me sad that she doesn’t remember and how hard it has to be hitting joel, there were so many instances where i smiled and i think it’s a great balance of angst, but also the comedic and sweeter moments too.

it’s so interesting to get glimpses of reader and who she was in the past seeing as that’s all she remembers. bits where she’s like “that’s not like me” and such.

i could probably quote the whole chapter but here’s a few of my favorite moments!

The longer his words set in, the more you were finding it difficult to look at him. It was such a strange feeling, having this large, burly, gruff man proclaim his love for you, to say he would stop at nothing to make you feel the same way, to insist you were meant for each other. It seemed so out of character, though you hardly felt like you knew him. But even now as you walked down the street, you noticed how some of the people in town glanced at him. Moving quickly out of his way.

It wasn't just you who found him intimidating.

i will ALWAYS be a fan of big, bad joel miller being so so SO soft for his girl. it’s like a drug to me. i just love it when everyone else runs in the other direction when it comes to this man because he’s kind of terrifying but for her? he’s a pile of goo.

You chanced a look at him, studying his stern expression when you realized he was still holding you against him. He was warm. Warmer than you expected. And solid.

oh this warm, solid steady man *sigh*

"I'm sure. You won't leave me, right?" you asked, looking at him nervously.

i can imagine joel’s heart must have fluttered a bit when she made sure he wouldn’t leave her because mine sure did

the scene when they’re at the bar and talking about the whiskey. 🥺

"Whiskey's how we first met," he said softly, still staring at the glass. You tilted your head towards him, waiting for him to continue. "When you first arrived, you were like a caged animal. You came here lookin' to blow off steam," he said with a distant smile. "It was a slow night. Just you and me and a handful of others. You were tossin' that shit back like it was nothin'."

she’s really shook that not only was she a drinker, but that she came onto him and it gave me a good chuckle.

At first, the memories made him smile, but once he saw the lost look on your face he felt the sadness creep back up, settling deep in his chest, and he wondered if he would ever get you back.

and then the angst came along like a slap in the face. but it’s fine it hurts so good.

"That must mean you don't remember Joel, right?"

Suddenly, the door swung open and Ellie stormed in. Her hard gaze drifted around to the three girls and she gave them a look of disgust.

"Scram, vultures," she told them, and the blonde made a face at her before flipping her hair over her shoulder and heading to one of the stalls. Ellie called your name and you scurried over, allowing her to lead you back out into the dining room but not before she gave the other two girls a few choice words.

YEAH YOU FUCKIN TELL EM ELLIE

i adore your characterization of her! it’s SO spot on imo

going down a bit further into the chapter. the way she’s willing to try for him gives me so much hope that her memories will come back to her sooner rather than later

i just want to hug joel btw. like he’s optimistic it seems but also you can just FEEL how fucking sad he is over it.

the journal was a nice touch for the plot but the last line she read???? the cliffhanger??? he lied to her???? WHAT

the way i think it’s going to make her take like 10 steps back because she’s probably going to feel like she can’t trust him??? i’m fine. not crying at all. GOD i hope i’m so wrong about this theory.

great second chapter!

i know who you are | 2. the journal

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Your memories still remain out of reach, so you ask Joel to tell you a bit about yourself, and with the help of a journal you kept, you begin to learn more about the person you became in the past ten years, leaving you with more questions than answers.

Chapter Warnings: language, eating, alcohol use, angst, pining, sad!Joel, amnesia

WC: 6.3K

Series Masterlist

"Did'ya get any sleep?"

You glanced up at Joel as you walked side by side towards the dining hall.

"No," you admitted, looking straight ahead again.

After Joel left you in his - your - bedroom, instructing you to rest on his way out, you found you could do anything but. Your mind was spinning with all of the information you had just learned, and you weren't sure which topic consumed you more: the end of the world or the supposed love of your life.

The longer his words set in, the more you were finding it difficult to look at him. It was such a strange feeling, having this large, burly, gruff man proclaim his love for you, to say he would stop at nothing to make you feel the same way, to insist you were meant for each other. It seemed so out of character, though you hardly felt like you knew him. But even now as you walked down the street, you noticed how some of the people in town glanced at him. Moving quickly out of his way.

It wasn't just you who found him intimidating.

You were distracted as you walked, curiously peering into storefronts and repurposed buildings when a group of children playing a game of tag nearly ran into you. At the last moment, Joel tugged your arm, pulling you into his side just in time. The children seemed to realize their mistake because their laughter quickly stopped and the smiles fell from their faces as they looked up at him.

"We're sorry, Mr. Miller," a young boy no more than eight years old said.

Miller. You never even bothered to ask his last name.

Joel just grunted and they scurried away, no doubt eager to escape his glare. You chanced a look at him, studying his stern expression when you realized he was still holding you against him. He was warm. Warmer than you expected. And solid. You cleared your throat and stepped away from his grasp, muttering your thanks and glancing around the busy street to avoid the disappointed look in his eye when it became clear you weren't comfortable with him touching you.

You shoved your hands in the pockets of your jeans and continued to walk in silence down the main road. A few people shot you curious looks or did double takes as they walked by, and you had to assume if Ellie heard the news about your accident, then others had, as well.

The Tipsy Bison came into view at the corner of the street, made obvious by the large crowds of people gathered outside.

"Does everyone have to eat here or are you allowed to have food in your homes?" you asked him, and he looked down at you, surprised by the question.

"We got food. It's not like a prison or somethin'," he said with a chuckle. "Most folks like to come here to socialize, but sometimes we cook dinner at home," he stopped short when he realized he never asked you what you preferred. "Did'ya wanna stay home instead?"

"No, this is fine," you told him over your shoulder.

"You sure? Maybe it's too much right now," he replied, jogging a bit to keep up.

"I'm sure. You won't leave me, right?" you asked, looking at him nervously.

"'Course not," he said, trying to hide his grin. He liked that you wanted him around, even if it was only because you didn't know anybody else. It was a start.

When Joel swung the door open, holding it wide so you could enter first, it might have been your imagination but you thought the loud chatter simultaneously died down for a split second. Then Joel stepped in beside you and the volume rose once again.

You wanted to look around and take in the rustic atmosphere but you could feel the eyes on you as Joel led you through the crowd, the scrutiny making you feel extremely out of place, so you kept your gaze pinned straight ahead. Following dutifully behind, you watched as people automatically moved out of his way, like he was Moses parting the Red Sea, until he reached a table in a somewhat quiet corner of the dining hall. He pulled out a chair and stood behind it, his hand still resting on the back, and it took you a second to realize he was waiting for you to sit so he could push it in. You quietly thanked him then finally looked around the room.

The dining room had tables scattered around, and as far as you could see, they all appeared to be taken. People were standing in groups, drinking and laughing and eating and you wondered how in the world your table wasn't taken. You were about to turn and ask when an older man approached your table.

"Hey guys," he said, pulling out a pad of paper from his pocket. "What'll it be?"

You went wide eyed for a moment, looking around trying to figure out what your choices were when, much to your relief, Joel spoke for you both.

"Still got any of that stew left?"

"Sure do. Few guys got lucky earlier today, too. Got two deer, so we'll be havin' more soon," he replied, jotting something down on his paper. "Two whiskies?"

Joel was about to nod when you spoke up for the first time.

"Just water for me, thanks," you said, and the man nodded his head.

"Thanks, Seth," Joel said as he walked away.

You glanced at Joel quickly, awkwardly catching his eye. It felt too much like a date. Dropping your gaze to the table, you tried to think of something to say.

"Probably a good idea, skippin' alcohol," he said. "Didn't even think about it, what with your head and all."

"Yeah," you said, your hand coming up to gently touch the stitches. "Besides, I don't like whiskey, anyway," you added. Joel laughed softly as he watched you shift nervously in your chair.

"What?" you asked with a frown.

"Nothin'," he replied, still staring at you in disbelief. "Just ever since you got here you've been tossin' back whiskey better than most of the men. You must've gotten a taste for it at some point."

"There's no way," you said, scrunching your nose when Seth put down Joel's glass in front of him. He stared down at it wistfully, swirling the amber liquid in the glass, lost in thought.

"Whiskey's how we first met," he said softly, still staring at the glass. You tilted your head towards him, waiting for him to continue. "When you first arrived, you were like a caged animal. You came here lookin' to blow off steam," he said with a distant smile. "It was a slow night. Just you and me and a handful of others. You were tossin' that shit back like it was nothin'."

You watched him as he reminisced. His eyes shone brightly and a small smile played on his lips, it almost felt like you were intruding on something special.

"When me and Ellie first arrived, no one really went outta their way to talk to me. I preferred it that way. Was used to bein' on my own," he continued, looking up at you now. "But that night, you sat down next to me at the bar like you had been waitin' for me or somethin'. You asked me if I was drinkin' for fun or drinkin' to forget. Those were the very first words you said to me."

You were completely silent as he spoke. The way he told it, it felt like you could see the scene playing out right before you, the way he remembered every detail left you in awe.

"What did you say?" you asked a little breathlessly.

The corner of his mouth twitched and he looked down at the table.

"Drinkin' to forget."

You waited for him to elaborate, but when it became apparent he wasn't going to, you asked him another question.

"Then what happened?"

He raised his eyebrows and hummed, a slow smile stretching across his face before he answered.

"You told me you could help me have fun and help me forget," he said, and you could feel the heat instantly flush your cheeks.

"Oh, my god," you murmured, covering your mouth, utterly mortified. "Please tell me you're joking."

He shook his head, still smiling at the memory. You glanced around the room, trying to look anywhere but at him.

"So then, did we...?" you trailed off, gaze still fixed on a spot on the wall.

"Oh, yeah. 'Course we did. I'm no saint," he chuckled.

"Jesus Christ," you said, burying your face in your hands. "That doesn't sound like me at all."

"It's not. Well, not anymore. You had an edge to you when you first arrived. Most do. Survivin' out there does that to you," he said, taking his first sip of whiskey.

You sat in silence for another minute, contemplating asking him what he knew about your life before you met him, but ultimately deciding against it. Maybe another time.

"Where's the bathroom?" you asked him, and he pointed down a small hallway near the bar. You thanked him, his eyes trailing after you as you made your way through the crowds, only dropping his gaze once you were no longer in view. It was a strange thing, recounting stories for you like that. At first, the memories made him smile, but once he saw the lost look on your face he felt the sadness creep back up, settling deep in his chest, and he wondered if he would ever get you back.

You knew you were in the bathroom too long. You knew he would likely be worried, but you just couldn't stop staring at your reflection in the mirror after you washed your hands. Who was this person staring back at you? She looked older and weathered and tired. Your fingertip gently prodded at the bags under your eyes and then a small scar on your chin. What happened to you out there to make you the person Joel was describing? What did you have to do to survive? And did you really want to know the answer?

The door swung open, startling you as three girls around your age entered the bathroom. Their giggles stopped when they saw you and you watched them exchange glances in the mirror before a pretty girl with long, blonde hair greeted you by name. Turning around, you gave her a smile, hoping they would go about their business so you could slip out of there, but of course the pretty girl wanted to talk.

"We heard you had an accident, are you okay?" she asked, and she sounded sincere, but something about her smile made you think twice.

"Yeah, got a few stitches but it should be fine," you said, your eyes flicking to the other two girls, giving them each a smile. They looked at each other and smirked before heading towards the bathroom stalls, leaving you with just the blonde.

"So, is it true? Did you really lose your memory?" she asked, her voice low as if it were a secret, and finally you were able to pick up the vibe. You had been to high school before the outbreak. You had encounters with these types of girls before. Friendly to your face, vicious behind your back.

"Uh, yeah," you admitted, and she gasped as if she felt bad, but you saw the way her eyes lit up.

"So you don't remember, like, anything?"

"Well, I remember before everything went to hell," you told her, "but I don't remember this place, no."

"Oh, wow," she said, and you heard the toilets flush before the other two girls exited the stalls, grinning conspiratorially at the blonde. "So you don't know anybody here?"

You shook your head, feeling uncomfortable with the line of questioning at this point. What was she really getting at?

"That must mean you don't remember Joel, right?" one of the girls at the sink piped up. You looked at her briefly over your shoulder and shook your head, turning back to the blonde but not before you caught the look in her eye.

"Oh, that's too bad," she said, giving you a pout. "Does that mean you aren't together anymore, or-"

Suddenly, the door swung open and Ellie stormed in. Her hard gaze drifted around to the three girls and she gave them a look of disgust.

"Scram, vultures," she told them, and the blonde made a face at her before flipping her hair over her shoulder and heading to one of the stalls. Ellie called your name and you scurried over, allowing her to lead you back out into the dining room but not before she gave the other two girls a few choice words.

"Don't talk to them, they're nasty," she told you as you weaved your way through the crowd. Joel's eyes instantly found you once you were in view and you saw him straighten up in his chair.

"You okay?" he asked, and you could see the genuine concern in his face as you sat down. You were about to answer when Ellie plopped down on the other side of him and spoke first.

"Angie and her little sidekicks cornered her in there," she explained, rolling her eyes. "Already sniffing around for scraps."

"What do you mean?" you asked her, but just then Seth arrived with your meals and you never got an answer.

"Stew again?" Ellie asked, scrunching up her nose.

"It's good," Joel told her before taking a bite. You looked down at the bowl and you were inclined to agree with Ellie, but you swallowed the food down anyway, just grateful for something to eat after such a long day.

"Aren't you going to eat?" you asked her, noticing she hadn't ordered anything and instead was busy sketching in a journal.

"Nah, I'm going to Dina's later, I'll eat there," she explained without looking up.

"Who's Dina?"

"Oh, my girlfriend," Ellie explained, glancing up at you briefly. "Sorry. I still can't get used to this. It's so weird you don't remember."

"Don't be out too late. You got school tomorrow," Joel reminded her. Even though he wasn't Ellie's father, he seemed to have quite the knack for being a dad.

"Yes, sir," she said sarcastically, giving him a weak, two-fingered salute before hunching back over her journal. You heard some familiar giggles coming from somewhere behind you, and when you turned to look, you locked eyes with the blonde girl from the bathroom - Angie - who was holding some drink in her hand, her two friends flanking her sides as she strolled past your table. Her eyes drifted briefly to Joel before she passed by, then turned her attention to her friends, disappearing into the crowd.

"Who is that?" you asked, realizing you never really got much of an explanation. Joel and Ellie responded at the same time.

"Nobody."

"Joel's ex."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise as Joel glared at Ellie.

"What? She woulda found out eventually," Ellie protested.

"She ain't even an ex," he said, turning to you now. "Just a mistake I made one time before you even got here," he insisted. The tone in his voice made it sound like he was trying to reassure you there was nothing to worry about, but of course, the information didn't phase you.

"Okay," you replied with a shrug. He examined your blank stare for a moment, searching for a glimmer of recognition. The disappointment in his expression every time something like this happened was becoming too much to bear, so you dragged your eyes off him to glance around the crowded room once again. You found Tommy leaning against the bar and you stood up.

"Where are you goin'?"

"I need to ask Tommy something," you said. "I'll be right back."

His eyes followed you as you pushed your way towards the bar, his heart feeling like it was going to break. He wasn't exactly looking for you to have an overly jealous reaction to hearing about another woman from his past, but your casual indifference hurt more than he expected. When you first found out about Angie, you insisted you weren't jealous but the way you sneered at her going forward, combined with giving him the best sex of his life later that night told him a different story.

"You think she'll ever get her memory back?" Ellie asked, still focusing on her drawing. Joel sighed and dragged his hands down his face.

"I don't know, kid."

"What'd you need to talk to Tommy for?" Joel asked once you both arrived back to his - your - home. You had wandered into the kitchen, Joel hot on your trail.

"Oh, I just had a question about something I saw when we were out there today," you explained, and he raised an eyebrow for you to continue. "There were dead bodies when I came to. They looked all decayed and... subhuman. Now that you told me about the infection, I wanted to ask."

Joel watched you open and close cupboards until you found the glasses, then picked one out to fill with water.

"So you ran into some runners," he said, and you nodded. "Did he happen to mention how you hit your head?"

Your hand froze, your glass halfway to your lips as you considered his question.

"Actually, no, he didn't," you said, setting down the glass and looking up at him.

"Yeah, he didn't really tell me, either," he replied, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "When he told me you hit your head and you were havin' trouble remeberin' things, I just came runnin'."

Guilt washed over you yet again as you thought about Joel being told the news and how panicked he must have been. He practically ripped all the exam room doors off their hinges to find you, only to be met with a stranger when he finally did.

"Well, I can ask him tomorrow," you finally said, putting your glass in the sink to avoid looking at him.

"Yeah," he replied, trailing off a bit. He was still lost in thought, trying to remember Tommy's exact words when you walked past him towards the stairs.

"You're tired?"

"Well, it's been a long day," you told him, pausing on a stair to look back down at him.

"Right, 'course," he said, shaking his head and following you up. When you got to the doorway of his bedroom you paused, looking up at him. It seemed like he was struggling to say something, his mind working hard to find the words, but instead he just gazed down at you, brown eyes all wide and soft.

"Don't suppose anythin's comin' back to you yet?" he finally asked, and you hated seeing that look. That same hopeful look you kept seeing right before you opened your mouth and crushed him. This was hard for him, you knew that, but the way he kept looking at you was making things so much worse. The pressure you felt to become this person he was expecting you to be was overwhelming. You opted to drop your gaze to the floor and slowly shake your head.

"That's okay," he said, and you dragged your eyes back up to him. "Maybe tomorrow."

You gave him a small smile. "Yeah, maybe."

He sighed and glanced at the door to the spare room.

"You need anythin', I'm right next door," he said, hitching his thumb to the side and giving you a lopsided grin, but you could still see it in his eyes. The disappointment. The sadness. The yearning. And it was making you feel sick.

Just as he turned to head towards the spare room, you spoke. "Joel?"

And he eagerly swiveled back around.

"I'm gonna try really hard to remember," you said earnestly, looking deep into his eyes.

"I know," he replied with a sad smile. He gave you one more look before heading into the spare room and softly closing the door behind him.

Joel slept like shit.

No surprise there, really. He hadn't slept without you in years. He had hoped the whiskey would have helped, but he was wrong. His mind was racing as he tossed and turned, and by morning he had foolishly convinced himself that you would be back to normal after a good night's rest. He got up early and made coffee for the two of you, like he always did, then tended to the fire in the living room. The nights and early mornings were frigid, but the days were warm. The first sign that fall was approaching fast. He was just putting the poker back when he heard the bedroom door creak open upstairs and his heart jumped into his throat excitedly, but when you descended the stairs and locked eyes with him, he knew nothing had changed. He didn't even bother to ask. You didn't look at him the same way you used to. You used to smile and gravitate towards him, your hands always seeking out his, your eyes playful and loving, but now you looked at him like he was a complete stranger. Devoid of all affection, the only thing that remained was a forced politeness.

You said good morning and headed into the kitchen and Joel wondered how long it would take for you to come around. Less than a day ago, you looked at him in fear, but now you seemed at least comfortable in his presence. That had to count for something.

He must have looked like shit because when he joined you in the kitchen, you eyed him up and down curiously.

"Have you been up for a while?"

He shook his head and picked up his mug, taking a sip and hoping the caffeine would bring him back to life.

"How's your head?" he asked.

"Not great," you admitted, pouring your own cup of coffee. "It really hurts. I think whatever meds the doctor gave me yesterday wore off."

Without even thinking, Joel quickly closed the distance between you to examine your injury. You startled a bit when he came up behind you and lifted your hair, but for his benefit, you tamped down your reaction. His touch was surprisingly gentle as he gripped the nape of your neck to angle your head downwards in order to get a better look. You closed your eyes and held your breath as you focused on his fingertips pressing tenderly into your skin. You heard him murmur to himself, the sound coming from deep within his chest, and you realized just how close he really was. Aside from pulling you out of the way so the kids playing tag wouldn't knock you down, it was the first time he had really touched you, and he was so much softer than you expected.

"Don't think it's infected but let's go see the doc, just to be sure," he said, his hand still on your neck, his other hand pushing your hair away.

"Okay," you said quietly, finally allowing yourself to take in a shaky breath as you waited for him to release you.

As if he realized what he was doing, he let your hair fall back into place and let go of your neck, his fingertips lightly trailing down your spine before falling to his side, making you shiver and step away.

"Sorry," he said. "Should've asked to look first."

"It's fine," you told him, absentmindedly rubbing the spot on your neck his fingers just touched.

As you walked side by side to the infirmary, his stony expression slid back into place. Gone was the softness you witnessed in his home. His hardened gaze drifted around the street, then to the watch towers, taking everything in. Studying. Calculating. And that was when you realized there were two Joel Millers: the one who the rest of the town viewed as gruff and callous, and the one you saw in the kitchen that morning, soft and gentle.

You wondered how many people got to see the latter version.

Nick examined you again in the same room as before, but this time, Joel was there watching his every move like a hawk. You could practically see the tension radiating off Nick's shoulders as he moved around the room. He examined your cut carefully, Joel's eyes never once leaving his hands, confirming that it was not infected before parceling out ten little white tablets of extra strength Tylenol into a small baggie and advising you to use them sparingly as inventory was low.

"That's it?" Joel asked incredulously.

"You know how it is, Joel," Nick said, but you heard his voice waver when Joel stood up from his chair. "Meds are hard to come by, we gotta be smart-"

"She hit her goddamn head so fuckin' hard she's lucky she remembers her own name and you're givin' her Tylenol?" he seethed, and you could see his neck growing flush with anger again.

"Joel, calm down, it's fine," you said, sliding off the table. Turning to Nick, you were about to voice your thanks when Joel cut you off.

"It ain't fine. What's it gotta take to get somethin' that actually works?" he huffed, taking a step forward and making Nick shift his weight nervously. "She gotta be missin' an arm? Maybe if she hit her head hard enough to forget what fuckin' planet she's on?"

"Joel, that's enough!" you snapped with a frown, and much to Nick's relief, Joel instantly backed off. He turned and paced around the small room, his hand rubbing over his mouth as he tried to calm down.

"What about my memory? Is it a bad sign I haven't remembered anything yet?" you asked Nick, and Joel paused somewhere behind you to listen to his answer.

"Well, the brain is a tricky thing," he began, his eyes darting over your shoulder briefly. "It could be weeks, could be months. Without any imaging, I wouldn't be able to tell you much more than that." You nodded and swallowed nervously before asking your next question.

"Or never, right?"

Nick took a deep breath and looked at Joel over your shoulder again before responding.

"It's possible."

You heard Joel's boots squeak against the linoleum floor and without even looking, you knew he was anxiously pacing around again.

"Alright, thank you. We'll get out of your hair now," you said, turning to corral Joel towards the door.

"Regardless, I'd like to see you again in a few days so I can take a look at those stitches," Nick said, and you agreed while pushing a muttering Joel back out into the hallway.

"I'll get you better meds," he said as you both walked out of the infirmary. "I got patrol tomorrow mornin', but I can go out after. There's a small cluster of houses we never did a full sweep on. Maybe-"

"The Tylenol is fine, don't go through the trouble. You could get hurt," you said, shoving the baggie of pills into your pocket.

"Tylenol ain't gonna do shit. I don't want you bein' in pain if there's somethin' we can do about it."

You sighed and rubbed the back of your neck, trying to temporarily relieve the ache in your head until you could get home and take one of the pills. You gave Joel a sideways glance, studying him as you walked together. He was brash and rude and aggressive, but you were learning that side of him came out when he was being protective over the ones he loved.

Or when he was trying to hide who he really was.

"So, everyone pitches in around here, right?" you asked, trying to change the subject. "You do patrol. What do I do?"

You paused at a crossroads, trying to remember which way to go, when Joel's hand on your elbow guided you in the right direction.

"You work patrol, too, but you ain't doin' that anymore," he said, letting go of your elbow after holding on for a moment too long.

"Well, obviously. I don't even know how to ride a horse," you said with a snort. "So I guess I need to find a new job, right? Who do I talk to?"

"Why don't you slow down a minute?" Joel said with a chuckle. "Let that pretty little head of yours heal up before you go lookin' for work."

You weren't going to say anything about his comment. Although it took you off guard, you realized he had habits that were going to be hard to ignore and you didn't expect that to happen overnight, but he seemed to realize what he said on his own and awkwardly cleared his throat.

"Sorry," he said softly.

"It's okay. I know this is difficult for you," you said, shooting him a sympathetic glance as you climbed his porch steps. He swung open the door and followed you inside, where you made a beeline for a glass of water so you could take one of the pills.

"We got a lotta history, you and me. It's hard to start over," he said as he watched you toss back the Tylenol with a wince. You examined his face closely and pulled out one of the stools to sit down. You leaned forward, forearms resting on the cool countertop before replying.

"Tell me a story."

He raised an eyebrow at you but couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from turning up a bit.

"What kinda story?"

"A story about us. You just said we have a lot of history together. Let's hear some of it," you replied with an encouraging smile.

"You sure? Thought you'd wanna go lay down," he said, but he eagerly pulled up a stool across from you.

"I think I can handle one little story," you told him, then watched as he stared down at his hands on top of the counter, deep in thought. When he thought of one, a slow smile spread across his face and his dark brown eyes flicked up to meet yours and you saw that softer side of him again.

"Alright," he said, settling back a bit. "So I told'ya last night how we met."

You cringed, remembering the story of a much bolder and seductive version of yourself, and nodded.

"Well, after that night we started seein' each other for a few weeks. It was just casual, nothin' serious," he said, looking down at his hands again. "I convinced you to sneak around so no one would catch on, and you grew tired of that. Rightfully so. I was bein' an asshole."

You watched him pull at a loose thread on the cuff of his flannel shirt, his eyes still cast down and you were beginning to realize it was due to shame.

"So anyway. One day you came over to, y'know..." he said, and you felt the heat in your cheeks again. "And you confronted me about it head on. Demanded to know why I wanted to keep you a secret. Thought I was ashamed of you - which I wasn't," he said quickly, his eyes finally meeting yours again. "But I had been through a lot of shit and I just didn't think I could give myself to someone like that again."

"What kind of shit?" you asked quietly, but he just lightly shook his head.

"One story at a time," he told you with a sad smile. You chewed on your lower lip as you waited for him to continue, his focus back on the loose string while he collected his thoughts.

"So I explained I had a hard time lettin' people in, that I wasn't capable of carin' 'bout anyone like that anymore, and you said to me, 'I know who you are, Joel Miller. Don't give me that bullshit, you're just scared.'"

He stared into your eyes, letting what he said land and hoping to see a flicker of the woman who spoke those words, but you just continued to look at him, waiting for him to finish the story like it was about somebody else entirely.

"Well, you were right, obviously. You always are," he continued with a smirk. "It knocked me on my ass. And I didn't know what was more difficult to believe: that you knew me better than I knew myself, or someone like you wanted anythin' to do with me in the first place."

You smiled and dropped your gaze to the counter, suddenly feeling shy.

"I'm not saying I don't believe you, but so far, these stories don't sound like me at all," you admitted.

He took a deep breath and finally stopped fidgeting with his sleeve.

"A lot's happened in ten years. Stuff that changes people. But I don't care what version of you's here, I love all of you."

You kept your eyes glued to his hands. You wished you could say it back. You knew he wanted to hear it. Maybe one day.

He tapped his finger on the counter, pulling your attention up so you were forced to look him in the eye.

"You fought for me that night, now I'm gonna fight for you, okay?" he said, eyebrows raised as he waited for you to acknowledge him. When you nodded sheepishly, his shoulders relaxed.

"So you're saying I fell in love with you because you were an asshole?" you joked, trying to lighten the mood, and it worked. Joel laughed heartily and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Nah, you didn't love me then," he said, still smiling.

"So how did I fall in love with you?" you asked, and his tongue clicked against his teeth.

"You're gonna have to wait to find out," he replied with a wink.

It wasn't his fault, but the rest of the day you could feel Joel looking at you. He was examining you, waiting to see the woman he fell in love with, and the pressure was beginning to be too much, so you made up an excuse to go lay down in his bedroom. He had mentioned he had patrol in the morning. Maybe some time away from him would help you relax.

You stared up at the white ceiling. The distant sound of children laughing outside through the closed window and then the door to the garage swinging open and shut acted as a soundtrack to your overactive thoughts. You almost had to laugh. It felt like your mind was constantly working, churning up information and digesting it only to always come up empty.

Absolutely nothing seemed familiar. Nothing about this place or these people felt like home.

You wished so badly you could remember something. Anything to make you feel like you belonged there. One little shred of hope was all you were looking for.

And then you remembered the journal.

Sitting up in bed, you tucked your legs underneath you and reached over for the black book. You fingers hesitated for a moment on the cover. It felt like an invasion of privacy, but how could that be when it was your own?

Taking a deep breath, you flipped open the journal and began at the beginning.

Right away, you could tell you wrote the entries. There was no doubt in your mind. Aside from your handwriting, your typical disorganization shone through like a beacon on every page. You occasionally remembered to notate in the margin the date, or your best guess at the date, but more often than not you were left with very little context for each small paragraph you read.

You were disappointed to realize the journal seemed to begin after you had met Joel. A big part of you was very eager to learn more about the person you were before finding Jackson, but it seemed as though you would have to depend on others to tell you stories you hopefully had relayed to them in the past.

The first page looked to be a list of items you had jotted down that didn't make much sense, but maybe when you first found the notebook, you hadn't intended to use it as a journal.

Socks, colored pencils, sunflower seeds, cards.

Flipping the page, you skimmed a short paragraph about a cabin you stumbled upon when on patrol. Again, it was more notes than anything of any substance. A description of approximately where it was in relation to Jackson along with a note to 'mention it at the next town hall meeting'.

Finally something interesting on the next page, you read a short paragraph about someone named Maria having a baby girl, and you frowned when you read the line Joel handled it better than I expected.

Continuing on, you read an entry about Christmas: Joel found me the softest sweater, it almost felt brand new. I really don't know how he managed to find it and I described the house I grew up in to Ellie and she drew it perfectly, I can't believe how talented she is.

One paragraph in particular grabbed your attention. It was about two people, and based on the context, it sounded like you were close friends. For the first time since we got here, I had the same day off as Ben and Lisa. We went fishing together and brought a lunch. It felt just like old times. As weird as it sounds, sometimes I miss being out there with them. We made a good team.

Maybe this Ben and Lisa would be able to answer some questions you had about yourself. Based on what you just read, it sounded like they knew you before Jackson.

There was a lot more to read, but the next page stopped you dead in your tracks. Your heart began to beat faster as you stared at the four words. Just one sentence, no explanation. A shiver slowly trickled down your spine as you sat there, unmoving, as your vision narrowed on the page: Joel lied to me.

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[burnedbyshoto]

the bodyguard

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

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pairing: bodyguard!kirishima eijirou x idol!reader

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

word count: 20,500

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

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“I’ll be okay.”

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

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

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

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

What had he done?

What in the fucking world had he done?!

BOOM!

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

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

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

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

05:30.

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

Inhale.

Hold.

Exhale.

Better?

No, not yet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“W-Wha—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘Cause I’m a stalker, duh.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Kirishima-kun, are you okay?”

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

“Kirishima-kun?”

“Yo, he’s not looking too hot?”

“Kirishima?!”

“Can you hear us?!”

Silence.

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

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

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

He was okay.

He was okay.

He was okay.

“Kirishima?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

But he was obviously not the first choice still.

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

“Toshinori—”

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

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

He had barely passed the admittance test.

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

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

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

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

“I can do it.”

A smile.

“Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were tiny.

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

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

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

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

“Six months tops.”

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

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

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

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

“...no,” Kirishima answers truthfully.

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

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

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

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

Fuck, that one hurt.

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

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

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

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

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

“Six months,” Kirishima agreed.

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

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

“You got it.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, yes, let’s continue.”

So, the contract was discussed to full detail.

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

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

Or so the contract said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, so much for a good case.

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

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

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

You always managed to sneak away from him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ya, okay, bye!”

“By—”

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

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

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

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

He wanted to be just a fan.

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

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

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

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

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

“You know I can’t do that it’s not—”

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

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

And then there’s only silence.

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

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

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

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

He knew that.

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

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

You were a good person.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...how interesting.

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

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

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

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

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

“Very much.”

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

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

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

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

So much for change.

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

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

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

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

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

It had been a hard morning.

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

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

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

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

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

But today, Kirishima was exhausted.

Today, Kirishima wanted to sleep.

Today… Kirishima broke.

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

You ignore him.

“We’re leaving, now.”

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

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

He grabs your wrist and begins pulling you away.

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

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

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

Oh, right.

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

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

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

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

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

“Compromises aren’t—”

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

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

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

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

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

“Wh-”

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

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

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

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

And for a moment, it’s quiet.

Until a single name is screamed.

“SERGEANT!”

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

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

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

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

The van turns on.

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

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

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

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

T082-23

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

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

Well, shit.

So much for the month of no attacks.

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

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

But they also gave him an essential piece of information.

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

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

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

For now, he was waiting for you.

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

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

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

“Should we go?”

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

“I actually wanted to talk before we left.”

Oh?

“Of what, if I may ask?”

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

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

“Sure.”

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

The contract was then discussed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course, Kirishima.”

“Oh, and y/n?” 

“Yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kirishima stood in the softly lit hallways of a sauna.

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

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

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

Well, everyone but Kirishima, that was.

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

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

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

A stressful month had passed into a friendlier one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I-If that’s okay?”

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

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

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

“No, I’m okay,” you politely decline.

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

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

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

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

“So, what questions do you have?”

“Hm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A pause.

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

A nod.

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

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

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

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

What had happened?

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

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

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

“Was that um, Major—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wasn’t made of glass.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

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

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

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

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

“PERVERT!”

“What?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, his dreams were never like this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kirishima stepped back out to the hot spring.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jenny, are you okay?” you called.

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

“We weren’t fucking you prude!”

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

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

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

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

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

What was he going to do now?

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

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

Bad, Kirishima, bad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That sounds amazing, Kimiko!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whoever it was, pfft.

Kirishima was willing to bet on who it was already.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something.

Anything.

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

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

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

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

He was going to.

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

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

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

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

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

“Ready to move out?”

“We’re all clear.”

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

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

“Damn right I will.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Such a brat.”

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

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

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

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

T082-23.

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

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

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

You really came to life right now.

You were beautiful.

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

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

He was here.

Every warning bell sounded in Kirishima’s head.

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

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

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

Wait.

“What?! Family member?!”

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

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

There was no way you wouldn’t.

Was he wrong?

Who was it?

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

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

Oh fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

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

“...she’s drunk?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was a reason why you were considered a legend.

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

You smile.

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

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

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

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

How were they related?

What connected them?

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

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

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

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

Kirishima panted as he looked before him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was he ready?

Actually ready?

Save her, his past whispered.

Save her, his nightmares screamed.

Save her, his heart yelled.

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

BANG!

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tonight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you resisted and might have been harsher than needed.

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

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

But it was growing late.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frown. 

“Where will you be sleeping then?”

“My couch is just fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, I’ll be leaving—”

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

“Oh, sure!”

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

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

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

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

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

He was relaxed.

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

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

“Really?”

“One hundred percent.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” you grin against his mouth.

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

“No?” he repeats.

“No,” you confirm.

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

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

Menacing, promising, sending chilling shivers down your spine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What does the princess want?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Holy fuck, he could quickly kill you with that.

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

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

And thankfully, Kirishima allows it.

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

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

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

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

It feels like fire.

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

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

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

Slap!

“Hey!”

Slap!

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

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

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

More, you plead.

And he delivers. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who saved you?”

“E-Ei did,” you garble.

“Who’s fucking you?”

“E-Ei is!”

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

“Me! Fuck, me!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he didn’t.

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

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

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

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

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

“I think we do.”

[chericarlisle]

You asked for Carlisle Cullen requests and I am here to deliver❤️ can I ask for a fic where the reader finally confesses to Carlisle they are in love with him? Preferably fluffy with some kisses 😌, I would also prefer the reader not be a doctor or nurse if possible! Thank you so much!

𝐌𝐲 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐞 || 𝐜.𝐜

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: carlisle cullen x human reader

(𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2k

𝐚/𝐧: i hope you enjoy this! i tried to think of a way to get the two to meet, but have it still correlate! so the reader will be Alice’s friend :) thank you for requesting <3 please know that the reader is NOT a minor!!!

For the years that you had attended Forks High, you had grown close to a certain Cullen daughter, Alice. Her personality was that of a pink rose and its symbolism. She was more than one could want in a best friend, and between her amazing advice or sense of fashion, there was never a dull moment. 

Unlike a majority of the students, Alice was genuine and welcoming, causing the two of you to grow close as friends. It made you feel like high school wasn’t so bad after all.

As you talked more and more with Alice, you often wondered why the rest of her family was so reserved. They rarely interacted with any one else who didn’t share the last name ‘Cullen’. Alice, though, was the exception, having branched out to you.

 It seemed that being friends with Alice was something that was a package deal because on occasion, she’d bring along her boyfriend Jasper. You didn’t question their family dynamic as Alice had already explained in simplest terms who they were. It was a much better definition than what Jessica had told you and the rest at that table on the first day. Looking back, it was more petty gossip than it was useful information.

For the first summer, you didn’t see much of Alice and rather texted her much more. You’d invite her over, but it appeared that they were on a long family vacation that summer. It was then that you truly realized that you knew nothing about Alice, let alone the Cullens, aside from what you had been told at school. 

There was something that constantly affected Alice’s decision making, along with her siblings, but you didn’t yet know that factor, and you wouldn’t for a while. Instead, you let your mind consume the harsh option that Alice wasn’t exactly the person you thought she was. Maybe she really was just like the rest of the Forks High students. 

Fortunately, your fears were consoled that next school year.

After much consideration, Alice eventually invited you over to her house where you officially met the rest of the Cullens. Edward, Emmett, Rosalie, and Jasper acted so much differently than they did at school in the way that they even acted at all. Normally, they would just go through the school day rarely interacting with any one or anything else but themselves. It made you curious as to why they weren’t like this at school. They seemed to be such lovely people so why would they be so monotonous for eight grueling hours of the day. 

You were able to see where they got those characterful values from. Well, more so who.

Dr. Carlisle Cullen, their adoptive father who looked too young to be a father at all and was so perfect that he must’ve been a hallucination. 

Since that moment three years ago, you’d gone over almost every other weekend to do whatever extravagant thing Alice had planned for you. She hadn’t had a real friend in so long that she wanted to make up for all the missed time. 

Over the course of time, the man, who you knew only as Dr. Cullen, had caught your eye. His compassionate mannerism and old fashioned style was something that just seemed to make you fall head over heels. At the mere sight of Dr. Cullen, the heat of your cheeks would make itself known and you wanted nothing more than to slap some sense into yourself. Whenever he spoke, you shamefully latched onto every word, his voice ever so comforting. The small smile resting on his lips whenever he spoke to you added even more charm and there was no hope left for you. This man made you swoon and you were so embarrassed over the fact that he was the adoptive father of your best friend. 

High school graduation arrived in no time and along with it a huge family secret. A family secret that wasn’t yours, but once again, relating to the Cullens. 

The family revealed it at a dinner, which was a rare occasion, considering that you hadn’t ever really seen them eat. You came over to their house like any other visit, except this time, the inviting smell of a freshly cooked dinner greeted you at the door. 

The lovely dinner and charming smiles were all just the calm before the storm. Playful conversation ceased and suddenly Carlisle was speaking on behalf of everyone at the table. In a matter of seconds, it went from ‘casual family dinner' to ‘game show questionnaire' that was borderline an interrogation with the lack of feedback you were receiving. None of the Cullens, not even Alice, would confirm or deny any inquiries that left your mouth, leaving you to your own judgment. It was almost like your speculation was crucial to ending the slew of questions. 

Eventually, you drew up the conclusion that they were vampires. You said this with such lighthearted intent that you were waiting for the big joke until you scanned the tables and saw their emotionless expressions.

All that you could really remember was falling from your dinner chair with Carlisle, who was sitting right beside you, catching your fall before you became close friends with the hardwood floor. 

Needless to say, it took a moment to process this information, but you still continued on with Alice and her family. They were still the same Cullens you had known since the beginning and a small sliver of their real life wasn’t going to change who they were to you.

A couple of months later, you were spending the night with Alice for the weekend. She wanted to go visit Seattle for the day and do some holiday shopping. You readily agreed, remembering that you had to get some gifts for your own family. Shopping with Alice was always an experience, but an entertaining time nonetheless.

You had gotten there Friday night as both you and Alice planned to leave the next morning. There was no point in leaving now as the stores had been closed for at least a couple of hours. 

Walking in the living room, you saw Emmett and Rosalie thoroughly invested in a comedy on tv. You had invited Rosalie to go shopping, but long hours with Alice in a store was not an activity for the less patient and she knew this. Edward was apparently missing from the scene, but Jasper, who was standing afar, greeted you and said that he was out with Bella. Jasper had finally loosened up around you, and after the family’s confession, you understood why he looked so uncomfortable all the time. The willpower these people had astonished you. 

Alice had disappeared after letting you in and it wasn’t until she returned with Dr. Cullen in tow, that you truly noticed she was gone. You bashfully greeted the doctor to which he returned with his signature smile that could make you melt. 

“I know this is bad timing, (y/n),” Alice walked to stand beside you, “But I have to go hunt, as do my siblings. You’ll stay here with Carlisle. He doesn’t need to go with us right now and we can't leave you alone.” By the end, the petite vampire was smirking and you jokingly scowled at her little plan. She knew of your silly crush on Carlisle and would relentlessly tease you about it, as a best friend would. 

Before you could even answer, Emmett, Rosalie, Jasper, and Alice were out of the room without so much as a peep. You shook your head at Alice’s sneakiness, forgetting for a second that a certain someone was left with you.

“How about I make you some dinner, (y/n)?” 

The way he said your name was something you could never handle. It just rolled off his tongue like any other word would, but with the hint of his accent, it sounded so lovely.

“I don’t mean to be a nuisance. Dr. Cullen.” 

Already flustered with the whole situation, the last thing you wanted was to bother Dr. Cullen any more than you thought you’d already done. 

As if he could read minds, the blonde stopped in his tracks to face you. “Please, call me Carlisle and you are never an inconvenience, (y/n). Besides, I’ve already hunted so I’m more than happy to be here with you.” 

Carlisle, being kind as usual, shouldn’t have said such words because your brain was currently going into a frenzy as his thoughtfulness. If it was possible, your heart must’ve been beating faster than what would be considered healthy for someone actively working out. 

You weren’t able to find the words, but instead able to offer what you hoped was an endearing grin.

In the kitchen, Carlisle searched the desolate fridge in hopes of finding some food. The kitchen and its appliances were more of decor than they ever were useful. 

After a minute or two, Carlisle closed the freezer door of the fridge, a pack of steak in his hand. 

“It seems steak will have to do tonight.” 

You shot him a pleased look. “You can’t go wrong with steak.” Famous last words.

While you insisted on cooking your own food, Carlisle returned the same persistence and eventually you gave in. 

The two of you carried on a conversation while he cooked. Talking with him seemed so natural that for a moment, you weren’t nervous about talking to this man.

Carlisle plated the steak and brought it before you, an excited look painted on your face. He sat down beside you and eagerly waited to see how the steak turned out. At first, you felt a bit bad that he wasn’t going to eat anything, especially after all the trouble he had gone through.

“Carlisle, are you sure you’re fine? It just feels so wrong eating in front of you like this!” 

He chuckled, quickly placing his hand on your own to reassure you. “I’m fine, truly. I just hope it’s edible.” 

You grabbed the steak knife, jokingly rolling your eyes at his statement. Upon cutting into the steak, an unpleasant rush of cow blood came out revealing that the steak was far from even being rare. 

Immediately your plate was being scooped up and brought to the kitchen counter where you joined Carlisle. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, it’s been some time since I’ve cooked anything and it seems that I haven’t caught up with modern cooking principles.” Carlisle looked a bit sheepish at the moment and you couldn’t help the giggle that slipped from your lips. You weren't sure if it was the unintentional term of endearment or his adorable attempt at cooking. Either way, Carlisle was relieved to see that you weren’t upset, but rather enjoying this moment. 

You stepped up beside Carlisle at the stovetop, shoulders touching as you reached across for the seasonings. “Here, we should probably season the steak a bit and clean off the pan.” 

As you continued to do your own thing and guide Carlisle in cooking, he carefully took each word of your advice.

“See, you did everything right, Carlisle. It was just the heat and time that threw off the doneness of the steak, a bit.” Your words ended with a small twinkle as you turned to face the man who’d been so intently watching. He seemed to be so entranced at the moment… and by you. 

It was like time was frozen and everything moved in slow motion, something you’d only see in a cheesy movie scene, except you were living it. Suddenly, life sped up and Carlisle’s cold hand was cupping your face and bringing you in for a kiss. You were happy that this was how you’d “confess” your love to Carlisle because words weren’t exactly your strong spot given the circumstances.

You two stayed lip locked for the longest moment in time, just pure bliss. It seemed like the kiss would never end until the smell of burnt oil hit your nose. Carlisle could feel you smiling against his lips and you began to peep out a small laugh. 

“I think we overcooked this one a little too much.”

a/n: i’m sorry if this is cringe-worthy, i wrote this at 12:30 am. i swear it will get better lol i just need to stop writing at ungodly hours of the night--

[blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms]

Reunited- Nymphadora Tonks

Pairing: Nymphadora Tonks x Reader

Characters: Nymphadora Tonks

Warnings: N/A

Request: Anon- Do you write for Nymphadora Tonks?! If so could you maybe do something with her where the reader and her were separated without confessing and when they find eachother they confess and share a first kiss? If you dont want to do this that's fine then just ignore this :)

Word Count: 439

Author: Charlotte

It was hard to not like Tonks. You had initially met when you were both sorted into Hufflepuff and became fast friends and before you were out of Hogwarts, you were officially a couple. She was a big character but as you’d rather go under the radar, it worked rather well in the way that people deem opposites attracting. If it had been any other time, the two of you would have had a happy life, marrying and growing old by each other’s side. You couldn’t be that lucky though, you were in the midst of war and both falling into the roles of aurors, meant you had no choice but to be at the frontline.

The whole war was terrifying to think about, having already lost many good people to a fight that there should never had been. Things could only become worse though when the largest battle of the war arrived at the steps of Hogwarts, and you were both there to fight for everything you believed in. At first you tried to stay close to Tonks, not wanting to be separated from her but you couldn’t control anything that was going on and quickly lost track of your girlfriend in the overwhelming fighting.

By the time the fighting seized, too many bodies lay in the rubble of the castle grounds, and you couldn’t help but look at every single one, desperately hoping to not see her face. All those who were still alive were either weeping for their losses or searching for loved ones, and you were amongst them.

Every person you passed, you asked if they had seen Tonks, but no one had any information, and you didn’t have much to offer them in return for their searches. As you turned the corner, you saw the purple hair that could only belong to her.

“Tonks,” you shouted. “Nymphadora?”

Her head snapped in your direction before the two of you ran to meet each other.

“Normally I’d slap you silly for calling me that, but bloody hell, I’d listen to that name falling from your lips every day just to thank you for still being here,” she exclaimed, wrapping her arms tightly around you.

“I just knew it would get your attention,” you smiled weakly, still terrified that somehow this moment would be torn from you, but beyond grateful to even have this moment together.

As she pulled away from the embrace, she cupped your cheeks in her hands. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You shared a passionate kiss, letting the destruction from around you disappear in a simple moment of love and passion.

[dorimena]

𝕷𝖆𝖈𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕮𝖆𝖐𝖊

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯; bakugou katsuki

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱; 1.4k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰; fem!reader, lingerie, sex toy (vibrating butt plug), implied edging, implied overstimulation, pegging, mommy kink, dacryphilia, dom!reader, sub!reader

𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔰; garterbelt, dry orgasms, didn’t know lima bean respect day existed, if you haven't realized i refer to reader's dick as cock whether flesh or silicone, implied aftercare, aged up character, Bakugou is in his 20s

𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢; late gift for the birthday boy who i haven’t written anything about until now. It was supposed to come out as a small fic, but University kept getting in the way and I’ve fallen behind with some pendant writings. Guess this is my first headcanon thing. Not proofread!

April 20th could mean anything for a lot of people:

In the US, it’s National Pineapple Upside Down Cake Day.

Also in the US, it’s National Lima Bean Respect Day.

Internationally, for the weed lovers, it’s 420 Day.

But April 20th simply means it’s your boyfriend’s birthday.

Bakugou had been hinting about wanting a small surprise for a while, whether big or small

And by hinting, I mean downright telling you every breakfast, lunch and dinner spent possible throughout March that he wants something from you, but doesn’t want to know what

If you were Mina, you would’ve thrown a party at some lowkey club and hired one of the best DJs in the city, if not the country

If you were Kirishima, you would’ve taken him hiking to a new mountain someplace else in Japan + a weekend glamping getaway

If you were Sero, you would’ve gone to do something relaxing, maybe a spa? Aerial yoga? Definitely not to just see his ass in some yoga pants

If you were Kaminari-

Well, that’s actually an interesting thought… What would you have done if you were Kaminari?

Bakugou wearing a black, see-through thong, the most sensual looking lace garterbelt you could find in his size and a pretty black bow sitting on his ass is what you managed to come up with

Sure. At first he was ready to fight, but then he remembered who you were so obedient baby boy mode was activated without any more fuss. That, and his fucking fantasies.

He’s also been fantasizing for the past few weeks leading up to his birthday about how you’d probably ride him. Maybe fuck him? He doesn’t care, just wants to be babied and loved and fucked good until he passes out to wake up a week later.

Maybe not, he still has work to do

Another reason he put up with this is because, y’know, you tend to be nicer on special days so-

Bakugou wearing a garterbelt makes you feel so many levels of horny in a span of 30 seconds once you see it on him. It accentuates his already envious waist line even more. God, you can’t wait to see him bent over and ass up.

So you tell him gently to do so from where you’re sitting, and he does it so prettily.

Reminds you of a graceful cat, the way he turns around on the bed, chest already down onto the bed sheets as he pulls his torso as close to his knees as possible. Juicy ass is as high as it could be and wow, the thong doesn’t do a good work at hiding the glimmer of the diamond butt plug.

Pity it didn’t come in any other color than white, but it came with the lingerie.

You didn’t even warn him when you turn the butt plug on.

The promised low setting already sounding pretty loud, his small huffs indicating it’s not as overwhelming yet.

Good.

But by now, you’ve left it on for a good while, watching as he tries not to lose his balance or shuffle too much to ‘lose the appeal’.

He’s cursing at you in airy moans, vermillion eyes glaring at you. Why are you teasing him? You’re meant to be nice.

It’s his fucking birthday

You’d punish him for his impatience, but you already punished him the day before.

You don’t want him not being fucked in the ass so you turn the vibrator up to the last setting, smiling sweetly as he curses even louder

This is still punishing but nice, right?

He seems to agree

His arms are restless, moving from staying beside him to moving above his head to grip at the sheets.

His hands also go to grab his ass and pull the cheeks apart to show you how he’s clenching desperately around the toy, whining about how he needs you right now, to stop fucking around and get your big ass cock in him or else-

But that “or else” doesn’t really get finished, not with you startling him with your speed and sight of the ribbons.

His arms are tied now, forcing him to keep spreading his ass, to keep showing himself off.

This has him burying his face into the bed, hiding how red he’s gotten from embarrassment.

You don’t allow that, so you press your hand onto the plug to push it in deeper.

He yells out your name, body jolting as the toy relentlessly messes with his prostate while your other hand curiously goes to touch the front.

The thong is absolutely soaked and sticky, and when you move your fingers against the fabric to feel just how sticky it is, Bakugou tries humping them, well, really just trying to rub his dick against your fingers because wow the stimulation of the fabric is n i c e.

But you’re not having it just yet, you wanna appreciate his perfect posture a bit more.

Reminder: the butt plug is already at its highest setting.

So the next best thing you can do is smack his ass because your baby loves that, loves how you leave compliments and praise for how it jiggles and gets a pretty red. He does it for you, after all, makes sure it’s always at its best presentation.

But he’ll never tell you shit because then you’ll tease him and embarrass him in front of his friends.

So a few slaps in, being careful with his hands, all followed by cooing at how it moves, how it blushes, how it’s now matching his face and probably dick too, has him trying to fuck back into the vibrator, but he’s humping absolutely nothing and growing more and more desperate and horny.

You back away from the bed, going for your camera to take another pic for your growing collection.

On the bed lies Bakugou Katsuki, all tied up, lingerie getting sticky with precum, the laciest garterbelt you’ve ever seen decorating his waist while he’s panting heavily, ass in the air, face completely red and wet, whether it be his sweat or tears.

He’s holding his ass apart to show you the vibrating diamond butt plug that’s been stuck in the highest setting, buzzing away as he’s whimpering your name, hiccuping “mommy, mommy, mommy” as he pleads for mercy, wiggling his ass as he tries luring you back to his body.

“M-mommy! Hnnnm tuh-touch me! Plea-ease? Please~”

Hey, aren’t you supposed to be nice? Eh...

He can’t come alone from the vibrating butt plug, never has been able to before, and if his rocking hips don’t indicate how much he wants to either fuck the bed or have your hand on it, you just ignore it.

Let’s see if tonight he’ll be able to cum hands-free for once. And make sure he cries more and more everytime he gets to cum from your cock and only because of your cock.

Basically that’s your birthday gift. Fuck him good until he either forgets his name, he's a babbling, crying mess, he's completely milked, or all of the above.

After hours of being edged by the toy he finally came, but in thin, small amounts, so you had to fuck out a few more rounds and cum out of him before he passed out.

In all honesty, he begged you to fuck him until he passed out. He had been fantasizing about it, after all.

After you both had your final orgasm of the night, rather early morning, he’s in tears, body trembling through the last tremors of his 2nd dry orgasm out of what? 7 orgasms? The copious amount of cum he’s managed to get milked out of him drying everywhere on his body, drool wetting the bed sheets even more than they were, room smelling like caramel, asshole fluttering around nothing and dick twitching as if wanting more.

Bakugou’s speaking gibberish at this point, the only coherent words leaving his dumb mouth being “mommy”, “more” or your name as he slowly succumbs to his exhaustion.

You give him your premium grade A aftercare during the little time he remained conscious and took care of everything else as he slept.

Next day, you cook breakfast, even if he grumbled about the taste or appearance.

He’s a good boy, he’s not gonna yell at you or be ungrateful with anything and everything you do, considering you put up with his anger. I mean, he gives his opinions, insights, inquiries through loving shouts of disapproval and approval.

All in all, he liked his birthday, but told you he kind of expected you to throw a party and had mentally prepared himself

Goddamn it. Guess next year you’ll call Mina for some help

[taechaos]

Your Boy, No?

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: drabble, smut, college au

synopsis: You can't stand seeing Jungkook with another girl, so you give him a piece of your mind in a stranger's bedroom by becoming his outlet of sexual frustration.

warnings: losing virginity, riding, degradation

a/n: jungkook's character is not exactly submissive, so i added my own twists to this request. i hope you don't mind @madygswich c:

word count: 2.5k

You can't stop pouting. Holding back tears when seeing a woman perched up on Jungkook's lap while they make out has proven to be difficult, but you're trying. It hurts your heart; hell, you're aching everywhere. It doesn't take a genius to know he's doing it to get a reaction out of you when his eyes are throwing daggers at you with his tongue down another girl's throat.

Following Jungkook around like a lost puppy isn't ideal, especially at a frat party. He never gives you the time of the day if it's not out of menace, but you aren't willing to give up on him. It's just not possible when you are so in love with him, and so fucking jealous.

More than Jungkook, you're mad at the girl. You want to rip her heart out, make her suffer for ever touching the love of your life. You're becoming irrational, mentally cussing her out for being a whore while you stop yourself from breaking down in a house filled with horny young adults. You don't know a single person here, and you have to deal with your pent up emotions all by yourself.

You choke out a sob when Jungkook starts kneading the girl's ass shamelessly with her skirt hiked up to her back. They're being so inappropriate in the kitchen of a stranger's house, while you can't even take a sip from your spiked drink in the bustling living room. You abruptly stand up and throw away your plastic cup when Jungkook's hand disappears elsewhere, and you have an idea of what he's about to do. You march over to him, looking absolutely tiny next to the overbearing college students and you don't notice Jungkook's sinister smile as he watches you fume.

"Let go," you sound hoarse, and not at all intimidating when you push the girl off of his lap. She stumbles at the force, but you pay no mind to her confusion as you pull Jungkook up by his arm to drag him away. You think it's the anger and adrenaline giving you so much strength, but it's Jungkook amusing himself by allowing you to take him upstairs.

"This isn't a therapy session, little girl," he yells over the music, "I didn't come here to listen to you cry."

You huff and let a single tear slip before harshly wiping it away. When you reach the hallway, you enter the first bedroom you find. It's occupied by a foreplaying couple, but you're driven as you hiss, "Out!"

They leave at your demand, and you're confusing a lot of people tonight. Jungkook is surprised by your sudden aggression, but he doesn't stop with his remarks, "the chihuahua's gone mad."

"Shut up, Jungkook!" you whirl around angrily to face him. "How could you do that to me?!"

He quirks a brow. "Do what to you? I'm sorry, am I the one who forcefully brought you here? Am I tripping or are you?"

You push at his chest, "you're a fucking whore! Tonguing a girl in front of everyone, in front of me?"

His shoulders shake in silent laughter and you cross your arms when he starts cackling loudly. The music is drowned out and muffled behind the door, but it's nothing compared to how hysterically Jungkook is laughing.

"What's so funny?" you ask lamely. He throws his head back as he clutches his stomach, and you're starting to get annoyed. You push him on the bed, but he's still laughing. "Quit it already," your voice wavers, but you don't back down as you smack his chest. You place your knees on both sides of his hips to limit his movement and cover his mouth to shut him up.

His crescent eyes turn intense instantly as he glares at you under his hooded lids. He exerts only a tiny bit of his energy into pushing your hand away and you weakly collapse on him. It's foul play to compete with his muscles, and you realize he can snap you in half if he wanted to regardless of your rush of adrenaline.

You sit back up as he lowly speaks, "The fuck's it to you? I wanted to fuck her, and I was going to until you stepped in as if you're my girlfriend. Tell me why I shouldn't go back to her right now." He clasps his hands under his head, making himself comfortable with your weight pressing against his crotch.

"You know why," you huff with a frown, and you look so cute in the dim lighting with your baggy knitted sweater bunching up on the sleeves, sitting on his bulge with so much innocence in your expression. He's smitten, but it doesn't show in his cold stare. "I'm your girl, and I won't tolerate you messing around with other women. It's slutty!" You slightly bounce for emphasis, but your knee-length skirt hides your actions. Jungkook feels it with you, and his eyes trail down to your lower region.

"My girl?" he parrots with a raised brow. He gazes back into your eyes. "You do my homework."

"I don't care. I love you," you plead pathetically, "please say you love me back."

"Wasn't I a whore just a second ago?"

"You were! Apologize to me," you harshly yank his head back by his hair. He doesn't react in the slightest, so you softly add, "please."

"Oh little girl," he sighs, "are you really trying to dominate me right now?"

"I am dominating you. Promise me you won't kiss another girl like that again. I won't forgive you a second time."

"Yeah? What's my loss?"

"Well, you're lazy in school," you bluntly state, "and no one loves you like I do. No one would try to cater to you like I do. I'd do anything for you, Kookie." You tug down your skirt to take it off and plop back down on him before saying, "Including sex. You can only use me for your sexual needs."

He's enamored by your words, but he doesn't dare share it with you. Instead, he thrusts upwards and you yelp when you jump. "Go on then," he says nonchalantly. "Show me how much of a slut you are."

"U-Um, okay," you stutter and start unzipping his black denim jeans. You've seen a lot of porn videos to make sure you were prepared for the next step with Jungkook, but you have no experience with penetration.

And he realizes that rather quickly when you're so meek with your actions. With a groan, he asks, "You're not a fucking virgin, are you?"

"I've been saving it for the right guy," you answer with offence. This is a special occasion, and you want him to take it as seriously as you do. But it's definitely not a good idea to be snarky with him when you can barely remember the steps for safe sex. "Do you have a condom?"

"It's in my pocket," he grumbles and points at his front without taking it out himself. You're excited and nervous as you tear the wrapper and take out the preservative. You have no idea how to put it on, but you're topping so you clumsily push down his briefs. Jungkook is surprisingly throbbing under you, and you blush at the sight of his erection.

He stops himself from teasing you and saying that the girl from earlier gave him this boner, but he doesn't want to be cruel yet. It's your first time, and truthfully, he jacks off to thought of you too often anyway. He can handle being somewhat nice by staying quiet, but that doesn't mean he would teach you how to put on a condom.

You slip it on with little struggle, and don't waste any time in positioning his cock in your entrance. Before he can stop you, you sink down on his length with a painful moan. He wants to tell you that losing your virginity in this position is the most painful, but instead he groans, "Holy shit, how are you so fucking tight?"

It hurts so fucking bad. Your tear ducts are like clockwork as they water instantly, but you lower yourself down to the hilt anyway. You're quite literally sitting on his cock as you try to catch your breath because God, you're in so much pain.

"Fuck, are you okay?" he asks, but he's more worried about controlling himself from fucking into you before you can adjust. It's difficult, but he's trying.

"Jungkook," you whimper quietly with your eyes screwed shut, "it hurts."

"You're so fucking dumb for doing this, but you feel so fucking good," he pants as he holds your hips.

"Thank you," you muster out in a breath. A few seconds pass until the pain starts to numb, and you move against him very slowly. Your walls are stinging, but it feels like Heaven for Jungkook who you clench down on.

"Go up and down," he instructs with a bit lip. He tries to move your hips, but you're resisting in fear of another shock of pain. "Come on!"

"Can you wait?" you hiss through clenched teeth.

He's trying to rile you up when he says, "Sana wouldn't take this fucking long."

And it works, because you bounce once. "Don't say her name!"

He groans at your tightness, and he can't believe how wet you are. You're dripping on him, and he curses himself for holding back because of your hopeless romance. He can't entertain your conservative way of going on about this any longer, so he continues, "She would have made me cum by now, but this prissy princess can't even get a move on."

It's almost pathetic how one push from Jungkook makes you start moving, and it feels less uncomfortable to hop up and down against his pelvis. The filthy sound of slapping skin mixing with the generic radio music is making you feel so slutty because it's so stereotypical, but when Jungkook moans, it brings heat all over your body. You take your sweater off when sweat begins to cumulate on your temples, and he commands, "Take off your bra too."

He's thrusting into you as you unclasp the black material, freeing your breasts as he finds his new eyecandies. You are so pretty, your nipples are so hard, and your cunt sucks him in so perfectly. It almost upsets him when he realizes how much pleasure he's deprived himself of; the amount only you seem to be able to provide, because it's beyond physical intimacy.

"Good girl," he exhales and gently slams into you with his hands fondling your tits. You smile coyly through your tears, and he asks, "Does it still hurt?"

You contemplate for a second, because you don't feel the best yet, but you don't want to disappoint Jungkook either. "I-It doesn't," you lie.

Jungkook mentally rolls his eyes; he really wants to believe you so he can chase his high, but he sees right through you. He slaps your tit without mercy and chastises you, "don't lie. I thought this was your little moment of control."

"I'm sorry," you pout as you slowly ride him.

"Another lie," he slaps your other tit more harshly and you yelp.

"I'm not lying!" you plead and hasten your pace, desperate to sell your lie. It's working, because you're starting to feel a knot in your stomach the more you adjust.

He moans with you, and you lose yourself when he stills your hips and begins to fuck you himself. It's rough, loud, and the pain is your pleasure. His balls slap against your skin as he easily slides in and out of you with the help of your arousal. Your love dawns on him when you're so turned on for him without any foreplay, and he's on cloud nine because nothing can compare to being inside you.

The setting is so unlike you, fucking in someone's bedroom with a bunch of people behind the unlocked door who can barge in at any given moment, but he finds it so sexy. You only care about being with him, and you really do look like his slut now.

His hands start holding onto your ass, kneading it until it turns red with his fingerprints, and he demands you to kiss him. You're out of it, your ears are ringing and you can only moan out his name, but you can't bear to ignore him. Your lips fall on his, and the kiss is sloppy with his tongue all over your mouth. You can't keep up, but your chest swells with pride when you realize how needy he is for you. He goes as far as to spit in your mouth, and you swallow it without hesitation.

"You want me to play with your clit?" he murmurs against your lips, and his voice sounds so airy and melodic to your ears. "Hm? Want me to make you feel good, little slut?"

You whine without a clear response because his lips feel so soft and wet, and that's the only thing you can focus on. All you want to do is kiss him and he doesn't stop you from doing so, but you're even more overwhelmed when he starts touching you while penetrating you. "No," you whimper, "I'll cum."

"A slut can take it," he grunts and rubs your clit faster, and you come undone all too soon. You moan loudly as you tremble, shaking as he rides out your high with a pinch to your clit. You're numb when you collapse on top of him, but he's relentless with his thrusts. He's using your body as you intended, and he's vocal with his pleasure and teasing climax. It's remarkable how he holds you up when you've gone limp and still fucks you just as hard.

You want to record his voice when he starts to whine pathetically, but you have no energy left within. He's panting in your ear, and it's not long before his hips fall on the mattress with a sigh. He's surprised by how powerful his orgasm was, as he fills the condom with his release instantly. His cock is still nestled inside you as both of you recover from your climax.

"Get off," he taps your thigh, and he pushes you off when you don't obey immediately. Your spell has worn off as he starts to dress himself. "I'm going back to the dorms." You listen to him with your mind in a haze. "Unless you want to get raped on your way without me, get the fuck up now."

"Can you carry me please?"

He shrugs and swings your arm over his shoulder, picking up your body with ease. He collects your clothes in his hand, but doesn't hand them to you as he steps out of the room.

"W-Wait, Jungkook, I'm naked-"

"You're my girl, no? Be a good slut and shut the fuck up."

Dangling off his shoulder with your bare tits pressed against his back, you close your eyes and drift off on the way to campus.

Boyfriends typically drop their girlfriends off anyway, right?

[lonely-lost-soul]

Where Loyalties Lie

(Technoblade X reader) 

Request 3: Can we get a little angsty fic or headcanon of Techno trying to get the reader to leave L’manberg?

Requested By: Anonymous

~~~

     “Tubbo please take a deep breath,” You followed him around the rubble as he paced restlessly. 

     “I’m president of a crater (Y/n)!” The boy pulled on his ears with a loud whine, “What am I gonna do. I can’t believe Wilbur blew it up-” He felt your hands touch his own and gently pull them away from his oversensitive goat ears. “What am I gonna do? I-I’m a kid…” You frowned, moving to cup his cheek with your hand. He nuzzled into it desperately, welcoming the comforting touch of someone who he considered family. 

     “You’re going to get through it because you’re strong.” You told him, “and so brave little ram.” He flushed pink letting out a whine of protest especially because he was still surrounded by most of his friends. 

You watch as Quackity walked over to the both of you and placed his hand on Tubbo’s shoulder squeezing it, “We’ll rebuild. We’ll be right behind you Tubbo.” He smiled at the kid and you couldn’t help but smile over at him. 

     “Thank you both. Truly.” 

There was one thing that had you were worried you may come to regret, and that was not taking Technoblade’s hand as he fled from the country. You were close almost touching it, he looked like he wanted to beg for you too but one desperate cry from Tubbo had you pulling away. He looked heartbroken but at the same time, you saw understanding in his deep red eyes. 

Family came first. 

That day he pulled you close pressing a soft kiss on your forehead, “I’ll be back for you.” 

You murmured a soft I’m sorry, turning to find Tubbo to make sure he wasn’t injured or dying. The thoughts of the festival replaying in your head, you couldn’t go through that...not again especially because now Tubbo was officially on his last life. Tommy couldn’t fathom how you didn’t blame Technoblade for what happened that day, but to you, two things were clear: one was that Tubbo didn’t blame him which made it easier on your end to forgive him; two Schlatt was manipulative and overwhelming as fuck you can’t blame someone for something they were peer pressured into doing. Speaking of Tommy you ended up finding Tubbo and him in the rubble that day, the taller male was pressing cloth to Tubbo’s bleeding arm desperately, when you took over and Tommy seemed grateful. 

However, you had to push your possible regrets aside and focus on the new nation you’d help build, and build it you did. You worked endlessly for months on end creating a lovely new nation for people to live in, Tubbo had dubbed it New L’manburg. You felt his pride and happiness, he just loved seeing everyone together again and happy once again. Finally, the server felt somewhat normal after all that destruction, even if there was a Techno-shaped hole in your heart. Things changed rather quickly when Tubbo was, in your eyes, manipulated to exile Tommy by Dream. You had tried to argue for the boy saying that not only was he Tubbo’s friend but just a kid. You were shut down harshly by not only Dream but Tubbo as well, the look in his eyes was filled with so much loathing and frustration. It’s the first time he ever snapped and was harsh to you, you felt your own frustration bubble up in your chest. You turned on your heel and marched back up into your house, you were not going to put up with this behavior. When you slammed the door shut, and turned around to find Technoblade standing in your living room,  with your cat purring fondly on his shoulders; you almost screamed.

     “Heh- why are you scared it’s just me?” The hybrid complained his nose scrunching up, “Don’t be cringe- oof-” Techno grunted as you threw your arms around his waist, the man flushed to the tips of his ears and looked away from you, Taffy hopped off his shoulders disgruntledly, “Yeah, yeah, I missed you too.” He pet the top of your head tenderly and you looked up at him with a smile. 

     “What’re you doing here Tech? If Tubbo finds out he’ll have your head.” 

     “Then I guess we’ll just have to make sure he doesn’t find me then huh?” He mused lips, quirking into a smile, and you nodded in agreement. “Other than that just running some errands. I’m in retirement now you know. I have to say that ‘New L’Manburg’ is certainly a name.” He did air quotes around the name and you nudged him, 

     “Be nice.”

     “Boo Cringe. I’m a Blood God starlight. I don’t do nice.” 

     “Bullshit,” You punched him in the arm, “Tea?” 

     “Please.” He cracked a smile as you walked over to your tea kettle heating the water and grabbing some tea bags. 

     “So, you came here to run some errands huh? I almost thought you missed me?” Technoblade shuffled a little behind you, how could you read him so perfectly? It was complete and utter bullshit. You heard him click his tongue distastefully behind you and you couldn’t help but smirk cheekily,

     “Get off my back woman.” He stated gruffly as you laughed, “but I guess I do miss you a little bit.” You smiled fondly and softly cooed at him and he let out another scoff, 

     “A little bit?”

     “What is this interrogation? You a cop now?” You placed his tea in front of him and he took a sip,

     “Yeah, we’re gonna need to do a strip search. Drop your pants.” Technoblade choked on his drink, face turning the darkest shade of red you’ve ever seen from him. You howled with laughter sliding down in your seat beside the man. 

     “I changed my mind. I didn’t miss you at all, you’re a terror.”

     “You love me, admit it.”

     “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He murmured looking at you with a sudden softness that was out of character for him. You didn’t notice the change but it was there, oh if only you knew how much of what you said was true. He did love you. He ran his tongue across his teeth and reached out to interlock your hands within his own. 

     “Come live with me.” 

     “Tech…”

     “I’m in retirement now. I’m going to get some turtles hopefully, maybe some other pets while I’m at it. There’s a lot of room...It gets lonely all alone you know. It’d be nice to have you there with me.” He watched hesitance flicker across your face again just like the day Wilbur blew up L’Manburg. Your thoughts went to Tubbo and how much he needed you, especially now that Tommy was exiled. However, you were also brought back to a few moments ago where Tubbo snapped at you for trying to help. You took a ragged breath and pushed his hand away, he frowned sadly bringing his hand back down to his lap. 

     “I need to be here for Tubbo. He’s a kid Tech...way over his head. Dreams sniffing around him like a dog looking for his next victim to manipulate. I can’t let that happen, not to him. I know he’s President of this nation and you hate him for that, but he’s my brother and I love him. He’s a tough kid with a lot of fire, but I can’t just leave him in the dust. I love you,” You reached up and cupped his cheek and Technoblade felt his cheeks burn at the implication, “but I can’t leave until Tubbo is safe.” 

     “I’ll convince you one day.” Technoblade shot back even though his heart ached, that you wouldn’t be coming home with him. But Technoblade wasn’t known for giving up. He was stubborn as hell, he’d win you over yet. You’d come home with him, he’d confess to you and he’d make you the happiest person in the world. You just...didn’t know it yet. 

     “I’m excited for the day you do Tech.” You snickered softly, you both were startled by harsh knocking on the door.

     “That’s my cue. See you soon Starlight,” Technoblade hummed slipping right out the window, you watched him go longingly. You shuffled towards the door and opened it slowly, on the front steps stood Tubbo who was rocking nervously on his feet. 

     “Hi…” 

     “Hey LR...you okay?” Tilting your head to the side,

     “Is LR supposed to stand for little ram?”

     ���Problem?”

     “No…I suppose not.” He murmured before clearing his throat and straightening his back, “I wanted to talk with you.” 

     “Oh?” You raised an eyebrow watching him nod his head sternly, you walked outside and closed the door behind you so you could lean on it. “Shoot,”

You watched as Tubbo swallowed thickly, “First off I’m sorry for yelling at you earlier. It wasn’t fair of me to snap.” He watched you nod a little urging him to continue, “however, I am the President now and you have to respect my authority.” Eyebrows furrowing together in frustration you opened your mouth to counter him but he held up his hand, “Dream has an idea of how to rule. He can steer me in a better direction-”

     “Pardon me?” You let out a disbelieving laugh, “A better direction? Tubbo, are you forgetting everything we all fought for, we fought him for independence. He killed us!” 

     “He might’ve changed!”

     “He exiled Tommy!” 

     “He deserved it!” Tubbo shouted back as your nose scrunched up, “He’ll steer me in a direction that you never could!” He snapped before realizing what he said, he slapped his hands over his mouth eyes widening to the size of saucers. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that-” 

     “Go home Tubbo.” 

     “(Y/n) please,” He reached out towards you and you held up your hand, 

     “Go reset the day. You need rest,” You frowned, turning back into the house “see you tomorrow.” Inside the house you shut the door on him and slid down onto the floor, you brought your hands to your mouth and swallowed thickly. A part of you wished Technoblade was still here just so he could tell you to get over yourself, he wasn’t skilled in the art of comforting others, but he could make you laugh. To keep yourself sane you reminded yourself that Tubbo was a child and needed you now more than ever, especially if he thought Dream was dishing out good advice. But you were hurt and a selfish part of you wished you could just go live in retirement with Technoblade and not worry about the new country forming, but you couldn’t ditch Tubbo. 

Running a hand through your hair you sighed loudly, one might wonder what exactly could Tubbo do to make you listen to Technoblade’s offer. Honestly, you had no idea if anything would make you do that unless of course they just started executing people or something ridiculous like that. 

Restless was how you’d describe the rest of your night, you tried to sleep but after a few hours of tossing and turning you gave up. You decided to make yourself a ‘healthy’ midnight snack, a small bowl of mac & cheese, you didn’t care, you were sad. You sighed softly scratching behind your cat’s ears, “It’s just you and me against the world Taffy isn’t it?” Her purrs rang in the air as she snuggled against your hand, distracting you just enough to swipe a noddle from your bowl. “You fat bitch!” You hissed as she ran off back up the stairs, you leaned back in your chair and sighed, literally nothing was going your way today. Just as you finished up your snack you heard a soft ping upon your window, turning to the sound you noticed your neighbor Phil awake in his house. He held up a hand and waved at you through it, and with a small smile, you waved back. He shuffled back into his home, I guess you both were insomniacs together, Techno knew how to pick a certain type of friend it seemed. 

You walked back up to your bedroom and slid under the covers once more, maybe you were wrong and things were going to get better. 

Months went by and nothing seemed to change much to your disappointment. Tubbo and you were still a little rocky, you had forgiven him for his harsh words but he always put Dream’s and even Quackity’s opinion before your own. When you came back from visiting Niki one day and saw wanted posters of Technoblade all around the country you almost had a stroke. You confronted Tubbo about it and only half answered you before running off when Quackity called him. That worried you, he normally didn’t like lying, especially not to you. 

The same day you were walking into the market to get some fresh fruit when a hand shot out from the wanted poster and pulled you behind it. You were held flush against someone’s chest who chuckled gruffly, you recognized that chuckle anywhere. “Techno! What’re you doing here?” You asked looking up at him with eyes filled with concern, “don’t you know you’re a wanted man?”

     “I think that just makes this all the more exciting.” Techno mused running his fingers through your hair, “Plus it’s not like anyone here can catch me.” 

     “Wrong I could catch you.” He dared to laugh in your face, 

     “Sure you could, and I’m half sheep.” Technoblade mused and he watched you huff cutely, “Don’t get all huffy at me you know I’m right.” You only waved him off, “seriously though I’m here to do some trading with Phil.”

     “Oh…” You gave a nod, “Will I see you more frequently then?”

     “You could see me all the time if you moved in with me.” Techno joked again and was surprised to see your face fall a little. Are you serious? Was he getting you to crack? “Starlight?” 

     “Ask me again in a few months and I might say yes,” You teased brushing the question off swiftly, Technoblade didn’t pry but he could tell you were almost convinced. Just what was going on in this country to make you want to leave your little brother? “Now shoo, go see Phil before he gives up on you.” You gave him a little shove and he stumbled off with a huff sticking his tongue out at you in the process. 

After that encounter, you didn’t run into Technoblade for another very long stretch of time. About a month or so after that encounter, Tubbo had shown up at your doorstep a complete nervous wreck. He begged you to help him, claiming he needed diamonds for an upcoming project and wanted you to acquire them for him. “Tubbo I don’t understand why I need to go on this trip? I have diamonds I can just give you. You know I don’t care.” 

     “But I feel bad about it,” Tubbo argued with you “please just do this for me.”

     “You know I’ll do anything for you. If you want me to get them this way I’ll do it. I should be back tonight is that okay? Do you need them sooner?” Tubbo looked relieved as he took your hands in his own, 

     “No tonight is perfect!” The boy chirped sounding more like himself than he has in months, you couldn’t help but smile. You ruffled his hair a little before kissing his forehead, 

     “Then tonight you shall have them, Little Ram.” 

Tubbo helped you gather the materials you needed for a trip down into the mines, Tubbo even gave you some fire resistance potions. You thanked him for the potions before putting on your armor and heading down into the tunnels. As you were down in the mine the concept of time was always an illusion, so when you finally found diamonds for Tubbo and you left the cave you were surprised to see the sun was just setting. You hummed softly to yourself walking back into New L’manburg excited to show off to Tubbo you couldn’t help but wonder what he needed them for in the first place. However, when you entered town you were greeted by a gathering going on at the center. Everyone seemed to be there clad in what looked to be butcher’s outfits, your vibe was immediately thrown off eyebrows furrowing in concern. Quackity was giving some sort of speech and that finally drew your eyes towards the podium, locked inside a cage was a fuming Technoblade. You rushed towards the group, pushing past Ghostbur and a blue sheep, and grabbed tightly onto Tubbo’s arm. 

     “Tubbo what the fuck is happening?” He tensed turning towards your face. It was no secret that you and Techno were friends, this wasn’t good at all.

     “(Y/n)! You’re back early!” He spoke nervously rubbing his hands together as Quackity turned towards you, 

     “Welcome back!” Quackity hopped off the podium with a smirk, “Fundy grab them.” 

     “Quackity hey wait a minute-” Tubbo started as Fundy roughly grabbed onto your arms pinning you in place, 

     “Ow hey! Watch it! Let go of me!”

     “Get your hands off them!” Technoblade snarled nostrils flaring grabbing the bars of the cage tightly. 

     “Quackity you said we’d leave them out of this!” Tubbo argued and your jaw dropped staring at Tubbo, “You promised!” 

He waved Tubbo off with a scoff, “they’re just as bad as Phil, Tubbo. She needs to be punished. We can't play favorites when trying to run a country. We’ll execute Techno then deal with the other traitors.”

     “Execute?” You choked, “you can’t be serious! Tubbo you cannot be serious, since when are you okay with public executions?” He refused to look at you, his hair covering his eyes, he only nodded his head in Quackity’s direction. 

     “Do it.” 

     “Tubbo!” You shrieked watching Quackity grin maliciously, moving over to pull the lever that would allow the anvil to fall and crush the man below it. 

What happened next was a cluster fuck, someone began trying to set off TNT, and Quackity pulled the lever. It fell rapidly towards Techno and he pulled something out of his pocket, in a flash of bright colors and bursts of light Technoblade was ripped apart and pulled back together again. He was alive, Technoblade really doesn’t ever die. He hopped on top of the anvil and jumped the bars of the cage, Fundy had long since lost his grip on you, he noticed Dream ushering him inside a cavern and he paused a moment. The hybrid turned towards you holding out his hand one final time, the world seemed to stop a moment and it was just you and him. His face held a desperate look in it, almost pleading you to take his hand within your own. You flashed back to the day Wilbur blew the country up, Tubbo called your name you glanced over your shoulder once towards Little Ram. You reached into your bag and dropped the diamonds you found for him on the ground, you grabbed Technoblade’s hand and squeezed it tightly. Technoblade smiled and yanked you forward, leaving a heartbroken Tubbo in your wake.

[faccal]

📓 *Smacks table* your ideas, share 'em.

Wide eye shaking intensifies 👀

Uhh...uhh *nervous paper shuffling*

They're embarrassing, but I do have one I've been day dreaming about! I can't include my Ghost fic because I do have a solid start on that, lol.

So! The one that's been really slapping me in the face is a dragon au. Yes, you heard me. A dragon au.

So I don't have a solid plot right now, or plan, but the jist is that Logan is raised by his sweet little grandmother, who's supposed to be around 97 years old and still going strong. She can still lift things, she's agile and has great strength. Anyhoot, Logan is secretly a bastard to the King, the half brother to Prince David, but no one knows Logan is, not even Elias. Only Logan's grandmother and one or two others know, and they keep Logan relatively safe from any potential threats.

Dragons "aren't real" yet his grandmother is always telling him stories of his people and how he comes from an ancient and royal bloodline. He doesn't believe her, and even if he did, his royal heritage would hold no power as his entire family and kingdom from 300+ years ago were wiped out by a massive black dragon (supposedly) with dazzling blue eyes.

Logan is skeptical, but his grandmother still tells him stories. To support them financially where they live in a small house on the outskirts of their little town, he helps on a farm, and even takes care of an older blind gentlemen, named Rorke. He often tells Logan stories as well when he cooks and helps clean. Rorke will sometimes hold Logan's face and stare at him, Logan swears Rorke can see him, even if he is blind.

Now, he's also trained by two local ex knights who left their order to pursue more serious threats rather than political agendas of their kings. Even though Logan doesn't believe in the dragon myth, he allows Merrick and Kick to train him in the art of using large bows and weapons with special made black arrows with obsidian tips. They can be dipped in oil and launched via large bows to take down dragons. (Once more, supposedly. Logan is that one character that refuses to believe in fantastical things even when their whole world has gone to chaos). This is actually supported by King Elias, who does believe dragons still exist and pose a serious threat to his people. There are others who train with Logan, but Merrick and Kick (who is usually dressed in all black and has a mask covering his face from his nose down) focus on Logan and what he can do. They're all well built, with strong arms for pulling large bow strings and even stronger legs to keep them in position.

One of the stories his grandmother tells him is of this ancient prince and his family. The Russ bloodline. It is believed they had the power to harness and control dragons, and that is how they fought and won their battles. They would give their enemies a chance to surrender, and then would call upon their dragons to wipe them all out when they didn't. King Perseus Russ, his wife Queen Evette Russ, and their two sons prince Keegan and prince Daniel are seen on a tapestry Logan's grandmother keeps in a chest in her room. None of them are smiling and Keegan looks just like his father. Same blue eyes and black hair. Daniel looks like his mother, with black hair and deep violet eyes. (I've actually made Daniel an OC of sorts. Not much is known about him, but Keegan is said to have had a little brother named Daniel)

Logan's grandmother relentlessly tells stories of the oldest prince as if she knew him personally, often times dragging Logan from his work as if trying to warn him.

After Logan looks at the tapestry, the long dead Prince's gorgeous blue eyes seem to constantly lure him in, and at one point he steals a drawn picture he finds with his grandmother's things. These eyes and his past haunt him until he can't ignore it any longer and some serious shit happens.

Ye, it's not great, it's not even good, BUTT, I have plans and am still working out the details. That's just one of many though, lol. My brain never stops 😭 send help LOL

(what's even better about this fic is that Keegan isn't necessarily a good guy, lol. He does some bad stuffs)

This is actually also in the works! I did start working on it today, or the other day? Idk, I did start writing it though! (Even though I have like a million other WIPs I need to finish.) Thank you for the ask @tokillamockingbird427 !!!

I just looked at yours again and realized I put way too much info but I'm keeping it because screw it. My head is too full of thoughts, lol. I guess I could've just said "dragon au" and left it at that, lol.

[padfoot-and-prongsie]

Is That My Bra? || Fred Weasley

Character: Fred Weasley

Word Count: 1.9k

Requested: No

Summary: Things get heated when Fred steals your favorite bra from your room

Warnings: Swearing

Disclaimer: Gif isn't mine, credit to whoever created it

A/N: This is my first piece of writing here, please let me know what you think! I hope y'all like it :)

PLEASE DO NOT COPY OR STEAL MY WORK. REBLOGS ARE JUST FINE :)

George walked back to the small circle of Lee and Fred, a triumphant look on his face. Proudly he lifted up his left pant leg, showing his now clean shaven leg.

“Done,” George declared, causing Lee and Fred to both fall back in laughter.

“Nice job Georgie,” Fred said, after composing himself. “You wait until Angelina sees that.”

George grinned. “They’re only going to make her fancy me more.”

Lee snorted at George’s comment, finding the shaven legs more horrifying than attractive. “Get on with it George, it’s your turn.”

George looked between the two of them, before he landed on Fred. “Freddie my boy, dare or dare?”

The three had originally been playing truth or dare, but after nobody picking truth for seven rounds, they had changed the name to dare or dare. For the last forty-five minutes, the three of them had been sent on a wide range of tasks, from streaking through the charms corridor (Lee got a weeks worth of detention for that) to making a dirty comment in the ear of an unsuspecting Hufflepuff.

Fred pretended to think. “Hmm, I think I’ll go with dare.”

George looked around the common room, trying to come with a suitable dare for his brother.

His eyes landed on you, who was just making your way down the stairs from the girls dormitories. Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet, were with you, and the three of you were laughing at a joke Alicia had said.

You turned, feeling someone’s eyes on you and sent George a look. He waved back wildly, and you raised an eyebrow, waving back to him.

You followed the girls out of the common room, heading towards the kitchens for an evening snack.

George turned back to the two boys with a wide grin on his face. “I dare you Fred to steal Y/N’s bra.”

Lee busted out laughing once more as Fred turned to George. “Easy,” he replied confidently, getting up from the circle.

A smirk played on his lips as he made his way towards the stairs up to the girls dormitories. He was only six steps up when the stairs flattened out, producing a slide that sent Fred tumbling back down into the common room.

George bent over laughing at his brother, who was now splayed across the floor and had attracted the attention of the few people present in the room.

“Jackass,” Fred muttered, picking himself up. “You knew that was going to happen.”

“I didn’t, I swear,” George defended between laughs.

Fred continued to glower, not buying it. “Give me a new dare, I can’t do this one.”

George’s laughter faded, his expression turning to one of thought as he tried to find a way around the stairs.

“We could go get your broom,” Lee suggested.

Fred nodded. “That could-” He let out a small yelp as he felt his feet leave the ground.

Looking down, he saw that he was now hovering six inches in the air and his brother was pointing his wand at home in concentration.

Lee let out a whoop of excitement as George lifted him up the steps.

Fred now stood at the top of the stairs, rubbing his head from where George had “accidently” bumped him into the wall.

“Go get the bra!” George yelled, causing a third year to fix the three with a horrified expression.

Fred walked down the narrow hallway, trying to locate your dormitory. After finding the right one, he pushed open the door, pausing for a moment to take in the sheer amount of clothes that littered the floor. He found your bed easily by the large Holyhead Harpies blanket that was stretched across the top. He himself had given it to you for your birthday last year.

Fred’s eyes landed on your trunk and a large smirk filled his face. Resting on top was a set of clothes, and beneath the shirt he could see the straps of a lacie red bra.

Fred slid down the stairs not three minutes later, sitting back down in the circle and triumphantly showing the boys your bra.

George applauded loudly, but immediately stopped when he caught sight of you coming back though the portrait hole with Alicia and Angelina, all three of you balancing numerous sweet treats in your arms.

“Shit,” George hissed, “it’s Y/N.”

Fred’s eyes widened and he quickly shoved your bra into his book bag that laid beside him, filled with the homework he had yet to do.

You walk past without a second glance though, heading up to your dorm.

~

The following morning you stood in your dorm, running late for breakfast as you hastily flipped through the clothes in your trunk.

“Are you okay?” Alicia asked, already dressed for the day.

“Yeah,” you replied absently, again rechecking all your clothes. “I just can’t seem to find my bra. Did one of you two take it? It’s the red one.”

Angelina snorted. “You know red’s not my color,” she stated, leaning over your shoulder to look in your trunk. “Just wear something else.”

You pursed your lips. “I picked this one out because it goes with my top for the party tonight, I have to find it!”

“You mean the top you’re going to wear for Fred?” Angelina asked, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

You rolled your eyes. “No you daft doxie!” You exclaimed, giving your best friend a playful shove. “You and I both know that’s a load of horse crap.”

Angelina only winked back, causing you to shove her again.

Annoyed at your bad luck, you glared at your clothes once more. You knew you had set it out just last night so you could find it the next morning. Now where had it gone?

After three more searches through your trunk, which only seemed to make it messier and more difficult to look through, you settled for a black sports bra instead, not your favorite but it would have to do.

~

After morning classes you found yourself running late to lunch after going back up to your dorm to grab the transfiguration essay you had forgotten to put in your bag that morning. Hustling down the stairs, your stomach grumbled, reminding you that you had missed breakfast.

Your pace quickened, rounding the corner into the charms corridor where you immediately crashed into an unsuspecting student.

“Shit,” you said, as you rather ungracefully stumbled back. Losing your footing, you landed on the floor painfully.

“Damn I’m sorry Y/N,” someone said, and you looked up to see Fred sprawled across the floor across from you, his twin not too far away, trying to hide his snickers.

“Don’t-”

You had barely started speaking when your eyes landed on Fred’s bag, which had slid across the floor in the impact. Your attention was drawn to the red lacie strap which was peeking out from inside.

The twins followed your gaze, Fred’s face turning into one of surprise as he had completely forgotten that he hadn’t taken your bra out of his bag last night, whilst George doubled over in a silent laughter.

“Is that my bra?” you asked bluntly, turning to stare at Fred.

“I best be going,” George said, giving you two a little waive, “have fun with that brother.”

You turned to Fred again. “Is that my bra?” you repeated.

Fred’s look of shock twisted into a smirk. “Quite possibly love.”

“How- What-” you struggled to find the right words. Finally you resorted to just saying. “You took that from my room.”

Fred nodded. “Yup, sounds about right.”

You turned to look at your bra once more, and Fred, sensing what you were going to do, dove for it just as you did. He was far closer, reaching it first though you landed on top of him just seconds later, your hand trying to grip the undergarment.

“Give it to me,” you hissed, as he held it behind his head and out of your reach.

Fred looked up at you, from where he was positioned underneath, his smirk only widening. “You know I hadn’t pegged you as a top, Y/N,” he said cheekily. “We might have some control issues later.”

You glared down at him, but he only winked back.

“Shut the hell up and give me the damn bra,” you snapped, lunging forward.

Fred firmly placed his free hand on your waist, holding you back.

“You’ll need to do better than that L/N,” he taunted.

You were now royally pissed off and desperately wanted to hex that smirk right off his face. You look back to where your bag had fallen several yards back, judging how fast you could reach your wand.

“Don’t bother love,” Fred said, reading your thoughts. “I won’t let you get that far.” He squeezed your hips for good measure.

“Now do tell me,” he asked lazily, his hand that was on your waist beginning to slide up your shirt. “Why is this particular bra so important?”

You slapped his hand, but that only seemed to provoke him more as his thumb was now beginning to trace circles on your stomach. Quickly, you glanced down the hall to make sure it was empty, thank Merlin it was lunch. You and Fred were still in a rather compromising position, something he seemed to indicate wouldn’t change anytime soon. Normally you would have been rather content with this too, but currently you were far too focused on retrieving your stolen bra and the redhead beneath you wasn’t doing anything to lessen your annoyance.

“I need it for the party tonight,” you finally grumbled.

Fred pretended to think. “That is a rather convincing argument, you should have started with that earlier. I as much as the next guy would be quite curious of this outfit.”

You flushed red, picturing the rather see through top in your head.

Fred smirked at your discomfort, his hand rising up your back. With no warning, he pulled you down, causing you to let out a gasp when your face reached a mere few inches from his.

“I am very curious of this outfit,” he repeated, his lips brushing yours as he spoke.

You felt your heart rate quicken. His warm breath hit your face and you struggled not to sigh. You’re still angry at him, you tried to remind yourself.

Fred’s hand that was slithering up your back had now reached your bra and he let out a huff of annoyance. “Damn, sports bra, you’re killing me L/N.”

This time you were the one who smirked. “I would have been wearing that bra if you hadn’t taken it.”

“Now where would we be if I had done that?” Fred asked quietly, before pressing his lips against yours.

Almost instantly you kissed him back, your mouths moving together in sync. You felt Fred smirk against your mouth before he flipped you, causing you to let out a small yelp as you found yourself now looking up at him.

“I’m always on top,” he whispered huskily, crashing his mouth against yours once more.

Your hands tangled themselves into his hair, pulling him closer to you. His landed on your body, dropping your now forgotten bra on the floor. They traced your skin, running up your stomach and, despite Fred’s complaints, still managing to get beneath your bra.

“Fred,” you muttered against his mouth. “Can I have my bra back?”

“Only if I get to be the one to take it off you tonight.”