#also i have a new coworker who just Left like 2 times today. she tried to talk to me about it and i should have said i’m not a manager. idk
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Is there something Going On universe-energy wise right now (/the whole last week)? Because goddamn things have sucked lately for many of the queer people in my life. Not even in a queerphobia way! Just other stressful life stuff!!
#personal#vague#not-too-specific explanations in tags#i was just about losing my mind (bad) over this cat because I didn’t realize how often he needed to play#and he didn’t have a scratch post for the first week#one of my friends is going through a hard slow relationship thing and idk how it’ll turn out#last weekend both of my siblings were upset with my mom (for valid reasons. and i asked about it)#one of my other friends. i learned recently. is needing to suddenly move because of safety concerns at her current building#(who also lives with the people we do double date night with. one of whom is one of n’s closest friends)#apparently Safety Issues and Shitty Apartment have been going on for a short but intense time for all 3 of them#just now learning that my best friend’s other best friend is going through Big Health things#also i have a new coworker who just Left like 2 times today. she tried to talk to me about it and i should have said i’m not a manager. idk#i feel like she won’t be here long but in the meantime it’s another slightly stressful thing
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-❄️ Character(s): Joseph Desaulniers
-❄️ Type of reader: M!Reader
-❄️ Category: SFW + a lil angst
-❄️ Warning(s): Forbidden love (one of my fav tropes) & intentional lowercase
-❄️ Note: not makin banners anymoreee (unless i feel like it)
-❄️ part 2
-❄️ Edited: ❌
“i advise you to watch what you say or do around him.” your coworker said as she led you to your new patient's room in the asylum.
“if he gets a little antsy just allow him to read something. oh and one last thing…” she began as she stopped you once the two of you were now in front of his room. “don’t fall for his tricks and sly words. it’ll only lead to you being miserable and heartbroken.” she said making you turn your head to the side a little.
“what do you mean—” “have funnn!” and so she quickly left after placing the keys to his cell in your hand making you sigh. looking inside his cell you didn’t see anyone besides a bed making you visibly panicked.
“where did he- AAAA!!—” you let out a scream when your patient quickly appeared from below the door. “well hello there!” he said, a smile on his gentle features.
you placed a hand to where your heart was exhaling. “what is wrong with you?” you grumbled, glaring daggers at him. “many things my dear, many things.” he said with a smirk as you began to look through his files.
his name was joseph.
Joseph Desaulniers.
clearing your throat you looked back at joseph who too looked back at you, blinking a couple of times.
“starting today i’m going to be your new doctor and counselor. from what i’ve heard you scared the others away.” you said, clearing your throat as his grin grew slightly. “i did? how sad.” he sighed, not a hint of actual sympathy in his voice.
“also if i may say, you’re quite beautiful! i’d love to take a photo of you if only i had my camera..” he said as he move a little closer to the barred window that was connected to the white padded door. “thank you? anyways, you can call me y/n for the time being.” you said to him and he nodded his head.
surprisingly, he was much more melo than you had anticipated. you took in his appearance, he had beautiful blue eyes that had dark eye bags underneath them.
his hair was a vibrant white that was out but very messy. his whole appearance made you feel sympathetic towards him, but there wasn’t much you could do besides try and make him well enough to leave this place. “i’ll check up on you in an hour and twelve minutes.” you told him and he nodded his head a smile present on his lips as his eyes closed.
“see you soon, y/n!” he chirped as you began to leave. from that day forward, you’d check up on joseph every day, take him for walks around the asylum, talk about his thoughts, and let him have his little fun here and there. joseph began to find comfort in being with you during those times, as well as being comfortable around you. so comfortable he began to grow an obsession over you.
your smile was all he could truly see each time he’d think about you, the way our eyes had so much life in them, and how your voice would change when talking about topics you liked. he liked you, way more than the past doctors he had. and of course, he tried dropping hints to you about his love for you. “i wonder how you’d look with the right angle of light in your features.
i think you’d look enticing my dear.” joseph said as he swayed his body side to side a little. “you think so?” you asked him, surprised by him saying such a thing. “oh i know so darling. your smile says it all. as well as your beautiful eyes..” he sighed, almost like he was having the best dream of his life.
“thank you joseph.” you said with a small smile present on your lips making his heart jump around in his chest. he just could never get over your smile. it was the most beautiful and alluring thing he’s seen in all his life. “say, what would you do if i asked for a kiss hm?” joseph asked making your eyes quickly widen and brows raise. “pardon?” you squeaked out making joseph light-heartedly laugh.
“or maybe, i could give you a kiss instead?” you quickly shook your head as you could feel your cheeks heat up. “i’m sorry joseph, but, you’re my patient. it would be wrong of me to take advantage of your situation..” you mumbled, your brows furrowing as your eyes no longer looked at him but instead at the dirty gray ground.
“what if i were taking advantage of you instead? such as your kindness and your words..” joseph hummed but you didn’t bother answering him making the man frown deeply before it turned back into that same smirk he always had. “you’re a good man y/n, a great one even. i don’t know why someone with such a gentle and sweet heart could work in a miserable place..” joseph said as he rested his head on the table, looking at you with such soft eyes your heart felt like it would melt.
“and you are a very kind and generous man yourself joseph. i want to make you better to the best of my abilities. i can’t bare to see you in such a place as well..” you sighed and looked back at him, your eyes filled with sympathy and sorrow towards the man in front of you. joseph perked up quickly as he looked at you with wide eyes.
“what if…what if i did get better to where i was able to leave this place? will i be able to be with you then?” joseph asked, he seemed so desperate. “i don’t know joseph…i care for you, i do, but i don’t think we’ll be able to work things out even when you are better.” you sighed and watched as his happy demanded changes by your words. they were like a knife to the heart, it hurt hearing such a thing but he knew you were right.
you both weren’t compatible in any way, but even so, he wanted to be with you and at least be by your side. “but i’ll do everything i can to make you leave this place joseph. i promise you that.” you told him and placed a hand on his cheek, him leaning into it made your heart swell with so much emotion you wanted to cry, but of course, you kept yourself together and professional.
this was going to be a long process, but you were committed to seeing him being the happiest man he can be.
-❄️tags: @jkloserdazai @reallyromealone @secretivemessenger @lostsomewhereinthegarden
#joseph desaulniers#joseph idv#joseph x male reader#joseph x you#joseph x y/n#joseph x reader#fiction#fluff#angst#identity v#identity v x male reader
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A wish come true - Adrien AUGreste Day 1+2
@adrienaugust Day 1! I decided to continue from last year's story 'A wish for a different life' but with a new twist, Adrien doesn't have the cat Miraculous just yet. You can go back and check out the 3 new chapters I posted on the previous story so it connects to this one. Since Lukadrien June didn't happen this year, I just wanted the excuse to have those two be adorable. Now, this isn't gonna be compliant past S3, so no Lila with a way to confusing life, or Jagged Dad or Sentimonster of main charaecters.
Feather
“Adrien? Sole, why is there a massive package from the craft store at our door?” Viola Rossi, Italian diplomat assigned to France to help with the Hawkmoth situation, struggled to close the door to the apartment she lived in with her son. “Caro, are you here?” it wouldn’t surprise her if he wasn’t. unlike usual times where Adrien was in a new location, he had a massive amount of people he hung out with, so normally he was home later. She herself was usually in the office, but she’d been allowed home early today. “Adrien?”
She walked into his room and found him asleep on the floor with 3 of his classmates. Marinette, Alya and Nino if she remembered correctly. Homework was strewn around the floor, looking mostly done. They’d formed an odd square, each using another person as a pillow; Adrien on Nino’s stomach, Alya resting on Nino’s outstretched arm, Marinette on Alya’s legs and Adrien’s own legs thrown over Marinette’s lap. She meant to leave them when Nino started to move, pulling his arm from under Alya. Like a domino effect, the four woke up, stretching and whining like a pile of kittens.
“Mama?” Adrien asked, noticing her by the door. “When did you get here? What time is it?”
“Only 5. I was able to leave early. If you kids aren’t needed at home right away, how about I make dinner for everyone?”
It took a second for everyone to actually focus but they all agreed. Adrien left his friends to continue waking up and cleaning up their mess and joined his mother in the kitchen.
“I think we have enough pasta for Carbonara. I’ve still got all the garlic one of my coworkers gave me, it’s a shame I don’t have the time to make focaccia. I guess I’ll just do garlic bread. Oh, Adrien, what was this package the front desk had me pick up?”
“Hmm?” Adrien asked, pulling down the bagged pasta, trying to remember where the pot disappeared to. “Oh, I had an order. Since Gabriel Agreste sent money to buy a whole new jacket his daughter ruined before it even got sent to the cleaners, I decided to use the money for my biggest cosplay yet.”
“And what is that?”
“It’s one I got Max to help me out with.”
Viola turned and looked at her son who seemed oh so focused on anything but her. He was hiding something. Not any normal teenager stuff, oh no. this had to do with his health. Adrien had a habit of hiding how he felt when he thought his parents were too busy. They’d gotten good at catching him early, but this wasn’t him hiding being sick.
“What’s in the box Adrien?”
The Italian boy flinched at the tone and turned to his mother. “About, 1000 feathers?”
“Adrien!”
__________________
It was definitely one of the odder allergies his parents had heard of. Pigeons were in abundance in Italian streets, not to mention other birds. The smallest feather or one too close to him and Adrien would descend into a sneezing storm. Usually, an allergy pill would take care of the worst of it but all his doctors recommended he avoided feathers. As he got into cosplay, he learned that also meant most fake feathers. He tried to avoid using them in cosplays, sometimes not having a choice like for his Cardcaptor Sakura shoots, but with meds, a lot of eyedrops to hide the red eyes and copious amounts of tissues, he could get through them. dealing with nearly 1000 of them to create opening and closing wings for a Queen Serenity cosplay? Adrien was going to count his luck if he didn’t die.
__________________
“Achoo!” Adrien blew his nose, turning the fan in his room to face him, as Max set up the backpack for him. Only the first row of both wings had been finished and today was to check if they could open without them getting tangled.
“Alright. Here’s the backpack.” Max said, handing him the metal box with straps. It was missing the wing pieces, which Adrien was fine with. Anything to keep from dying quicker. Once he had it on his shoulders and secured around his waist, he held his breath as Max fit the poles into the back, listening to them click in place. Once he found his centre again with the new weight, Max clicked something on his laptop and after a moment and some mechanical wiring, the wings started to move, unfurling. The movement of it wasn’t as opulent yet with only a row of feathers each, but still. Adrien could just imagine how it would look with his white gown and wig.
“Achoo! Oh, fuck!” his sneeze tilted him forward and with the wings, there was no stopping it. he landed on a squishy surface instead of his bedroom floor. It took a bit of finagling to get the wings out of his way, but he saw he landed on one of his beanbags.
“Sorry. There was no way I was going to be able to catch you so I did something else.” Max said, patting the end of the beanbag.
“No, you’re – achoo! Achoo! Achoo! Oh god, get these off of me!”
Adrien wasn’t waving the white flag just yet, he just needed to breath air for a second. He could do this. he would do this.
He could tell his friends were going to judge him so hard at the end of this.
__________________
Luka smiled as the door to Adrien’s apartment opened and there he stood. His boyfriend flashed him a smile and moved back to let him in. He stepped inside, ready to press a kiss on Adrien’s cheek, if only to see him turn red like he did the first time when Adrien sneezed, turning his head so he didn’t sneeze on him.
“You ok?” Luka asked, slightly concerned.
“Yep.” he said, nodding before sneezing again at least 3 times in a row. Luka raised an eyebrow with a look on his face that said he didn’t believe him. “Maybe. I might have a minor allergy to feathers.”
Luka looked down at the bag he was asked to pick up on his way over of white feathers.
“Adrien,” he started.
“You sound like my mama.” he said before he sneezed again. “The wings are almost done and Marinette agreed to keep them at her place. Achoo!” Adrien sniffed, taking in the raised brow of Luka. “I swear it’s not nearly as bad as you think.” he sneezed once more, sniffing and groaning.
“You make a compelling case.” Luka said sarcastically.
Adrien stuck his tongue out, before sneezing again, covering his mouth and yelping when he bit his tongue. “Not a word.” he spoke from behind his hands, watching Luka’s brow raise again.
“You’re cute.” Luka couldn’t help but laugh. “Come on, I'll put this in your room and we can take a walk so you can breathe.”
“Fine.” but Adrien wasn’t going to complain. He was getting to the point of needing to scratch his eyes out. But it was fine. He could do this.
________________
He could not do this. He was half hanging out of his window, as far as he could get from the wings. Why did he think he could do this? He should have just commissioned Max and Marinette to make them and deal with fittings and then the final photoshoot.
“Hello?” Marinette answered from the other end of the phone.
“Mari.” he whined.
“Oh boy. Waving the flag huh?”
“Can you please help me finish them? I will pay you; I just can’t do this anymore.”
Marinette sighed, “If anything, you actually won me money. I bet Alya you last until this week. She thought you would have given up before.”
He’d be insulted but after sneezing again and struggling to not drop his phone, he didn’t care.
“You poor thing. I’ll be over soon and I'll have some of my dad’s cookies.”
“Thank you.” he whimpered, near tears.
“But what the heck are you going to do come shoot day?”
“I…don’t know. Suffer?”
“Adrien.” she groaned.
That was starting to get insulting. Everyone kept saying his name like he was supposed to know better. Ok, yeah, he did but they also knew how he got when making cosplays. Marinette acted the same with her designs.
“Don’t lecture me, just, please come quick.”
“Alright, alright. I’m on my way.”
she hung up and Adrien dropped his phone on the floor of his room before hiding his face in his arms. He hadn’t mentioned to others he had planned a cosplay of the Wind Card, who was covered in feathers. He was really going to need to come up with an alternative. Which involved research that he’d totally do after his head stopped spinning.
The final product had better be perfect.
___________________
“Remind me to thank Chloe.” Adrien said, tugging at his wig, trying to fix it.
Chloe, in an attempt to be nicer, had heard Adrien trying to finalize a location for his shoot and offered to get him half an hour in front of Notre Dame before construction continued for the day. He was confused as to why she was going out of her way to be nicer on her own, as she hadn’t really been even after the Naruto shoot, but he decided to not question it.
His friends had given up part of their morning, early morning to be more accurate, to help him in exchange for food. Max just wanted him to be a beta player for his new video game.
“Ok, we’re at 20 minutes and those construction workers keep giving us looks so let’s work quick.”
“Hold your breath,” Max ordered, pushing the blonde locks away from the backpack Adrien had worn under his gown. With Marinette’s help, he managed to disguise it with extra fabric from the bow. Max slid them into place and adjusted them, not noticing them brushing Adrien’s face. “Ok, we’re good!”
“And dress is good!” Marinette called from the back
“Achoo!”
“Nino, keep pressing the shutter button!” Alya ordered.
“Achoo!”
“Repeat purple elephant! It’ll stop you from sneezing.” Max called.
Adrien was willing to try anything. With Nino moving around him like he was attached to a camera jib, he muttered the words under his breath, knowing his eyes had to be getting red. His eyes started to sting as the natural wind moved the feathers closer to him, even worse as Max opened them.
“Purple - achoo! Achoo!”
“Last ones!”
“Hey kids, hurry up. We’ve got work to do!”
________________________
“You know,” Nino said, leaning against Adrien, who once again had his head in his arms, “some of these are pretty good for only 20 minutes and construction workers yelling at us.”
Pulling his head out enough to look at Nino’s camera, he had to admit he was right. Nino had gotten a side profile just as Adrien had sneezed. With his eyes closed, mouth covered and tears starting to pool, he looked like he was in anguish. All they had to do was erase the redness from his eyes and no one would know it was allergy induced anguish he was in.
“Alright, four flat whites, one tea infusion, two French toasts and two pancakes all with fruit. Sweetie, are you sure I can’t get you anything to eat?” their waitress asked Adrien as she dropped off the orders for the others.
“Not unless you have a sharp object, I can use to rip my eyes out with.”
“He’s got allergies.” Nino said in reply to the scared waitress.
“So, I'm guessing no Cardcaptor characters?” Alya teased, cutting into her French toast. When Adrien didn’t answer, she poked him, watching his shoulders pull in. “Oh my god! Adrien!”
“I already spent the money on the outfit, leave me alone!” Let it not be said that Adrien wasn’t a glutton for punishment.
#adrien augreste#adrien augreste 2023#lila wins and wishes for adrien's life#lila's mom is now adrien's mom#cannon divergence
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last day of work at michaels
wore a skirt and bodice because it has been hot and my back has been hurting
the new guy (my replacement) saw me walk in wearing a 25yd skirt with tittes actually supported did a double take
this very much has to do with the fact my name is exclusively masc and I haven't worn a skirt since march
he later told me he thought i was exaggerating the heat being a factor in my quitting, he was proven wrong
damn near every customer i rang up during my 4 hour shift said something about the store being too hot
three walked out because it was too uncomfortable to shop
during my 15 I went to the petsmart next door to get an energy drink and some working AC a dude in the parking lot was jamming to Never Gonna Give you Up in a dark blue ford explorer
a coworker fell into the pedro pit on her own time (Narcos and TLoU) and saw my phone lockscreen (a collage of Pedro from the WIRED shoot)
I told her which season of GoT he was in and told her if she does watch it just stop before the fight with the mountain
Also told her about strange way of life, she seemed intrigued
I have before this interaction, said in earshot of this coworker smth along the lines of "I wanna give him head so bad."
so she was already well aware of my opinion of that 48yr man
a customer was looking for ribbon and couldn't find what she was looking for, when I suggested the JoAnn about 20min N she said she was already there
she then asked if H*bby L*bby would have any and i said I don't know, I've never been, and i don't think they'd want me in there anyway my nearby manager (the cool one) snorted
cool manager asked if i knew what I was gonna do, and when I said not rn, and that i may come back she said not to
i then explained my reasoning for leaving the door to this job open and she was like "okay, fair." to give you an idea of what the employees think of the place
I tried telling a different manager that a few customers left because of the heat but she wouldn't listen
had to find cool manager and explain that telling the right person that money is being lost may make shit get fixed faster
cool manager and several coworkers made a card (notably the SM, the one who pulled the last straw, did not sign it)
knee jerk thought was that she wasn't in today, but someone who wasn't in today signed it too so :i
anyway i am now unemployeed im gonna not care for the next 2-3 days before I start looking in serious earnest
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Updates? Yeah, life updates.
The Tech concert was good. He’s a goofy dude and you can tell he just really has fun with it. Husband got smashed and had a grand ol’ time. I took a ton of videos for him.
Because of the concert yesterday, I was very clear at work that I could NOT stay late which ended up causing problems. Usually this is fine, but a) we had a late scheduled patient, b) my trainee is still working on speed, and c) literally at like 5:15 my entire workstation stopped connecting to work apps or anything on google chrome or whatever the edge thing is that replaced IE. I could access the EMR but no videos or email or even IT help. I was on my phone trying to connect and figure it out. Eventually I got it half working but I had to leave then. We had 4 notes left, one I was working on, one my trainee was working on, and two ones we hadn’t even found media for yet. My trainee said she would work on the notes herself and I could review in the morning…
I woke up early and clocked into work before I’m normally awake to finish up yesterday’s work, right? My trainee has done one extra note, staying late to do it, which was great of her, but that still meant I had to do one new note on a very long visit with a patient with a complex history, finish up the note I had started when my computer did the weird connection thing, AND THEN also review my trainee’s other two notes. It’s not a quick process because I have to fix anything missed and she’s still learning. And this doc is literally taking like an hour to do her visits.
Anyway I started work at 8 AM when I normally start at 10, and I finished getting ready for today’s clinic writing about 10:30 and then tried to find media… no media. I was stressed because this doc had a very busy AM hearing loss clinic (about twice as many patients as usual), and while she normally just does the AM clinic on those days, she also added in a busy PM clinic in person. It was just me + my trainee. Other staff who work with that doc were scheduled to only work a half day and deal with a full clinic themselves + help with another clinic, too.
Anyway, I got in touch with my supervisor who said the doc doing the hearing clinic was taking those calls during her commute into work and thus wasn’t using our services in the AM. Which was great because that meant I could work on the other doc’s clinic for my coworker who wasn’t scheduled all day.
My coworker was actually super grateful because she was a little stressed, worrying how she would be able to finish her clinic. We don’t usually have days like today with 3+ providers in with full clinic schedules.
During my PM clinic, it turned out a resident was working, and this resident is highly competent and does notes like they’re supposed to!! Which was amazing. Out of 8 patients, we only were responsible for 2 of them, so my trainee got to to both!
While trainee was working in those notes, I was able to help out with the other two clinics.
During all of this, I was SO NAUSEATED and dizzy and running to the bathroom frequently. If I move my eyes, I get sick. Imagine trying to type and listen and watch a video when you want to vomit every time you move your eyes. 0/10.
Overall I worked for ~10 hours, minus maybe 45 min or so total for breaks when I absolutely needed. It was worth it though because nobody else on my team needed to stay late or cut into study time. If I hadn’t needed to come in early to resolve issues stemming from tech failure yesterday, it would’ve been just a normal day at work.
Now I’m still feeling really sick. No fever or anything. Still not sure what’s causing the dizziness. I have tomorrow off which is nice, but I still have a ton to do so it won’t really be a restorative day. I have heard back from all MD schools now, and have gotten secondary invites from all of them except one which is still reviewing my primary app. UNR and WWAMI came in yesterday, and I was working a little on my UNR app since it’s due next Tuesday, and I had to email them to ask about my sister (current resident; unsure if that makes her a UNR student or not). They haven’t gotten back to me which is *frustrating* but oh well.
Tomorrow’s goals re: med school-
Get my official voter registration certificate thingy so I can upload it.
Finish the app to verify my MT residency status for all the programs that need it verified.
UNR application. It’s fewer essays like Mayo, but it’s also *not Mayo* and essays are max 300 words instead of 500. I think I have 6-7 essays? I can’t remember as I didn’t formally count them and I know some are optional. But 7 essays at 300 words- probably a few hours? Maybe 4?
If time, U of Utah application. They have a lot more in depth stuff- like I have to put in all my activities again but they ONLY want stuff within the last 5 years. They make it sound like a positive because “some students have to select their top 15 activities.” I’m like… or some students don’t even have 15 real quantified activities to begin with because they have one activity spanning a long period of years. Honestly this really worries me because I’m non-trad, even tho I have amazing ties to the state and school in general (would be the third generation to complete any medical Ed there- my gpa did a fellowship and dad did resident).
I doubt I’ll have time after that but if I do, probably U of Arizona applications. They have two campuses done individually, so Tucson first and maybe Phoenix if a lot of the app is the same. Otherwise the Phoenix campus has a much later true deadline and I’ll want to prioritize WSU and WWAMI.
OHSU and then U of Minnesota (both campuses) and then WWAMI and then WSU (since they got back to me later I have a little more unofficial time to complete those).
Yeah it’s gonna be a busy day tomorrow. I work Friday, so my weekend is gonna be packed too. I’m hoping- HOPING- that I can do UNR and U of Utah tomorrow and then for my final 14 apps (assuming U of Iowa offers me a secondary), if I can do them in 3 hours each, I can effectively finish 6-8 this weekend. That would put me through everything officially due before mid-November at the earliest. While they really want you to send in secondaries two weeks after they’re offered, with full time work and literally no time to prepare bc they were offered so quickly, I have to prioritize. So schools I have less ties to are going to be submitted later since I have less chance of getting in those places.
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My week
was pretty nice. I worked from the office but my work friend made it bearable. Wednesday's quiz night had to be held elsewhere because of a concert, but my work friend and I didn't know and entered the pub without even acknowledging the bouncer at the entrance, but he also ignored us lol. We had a nice evening. Thursday was the last office day, because we were so tired, and another coworker had like a nervous breakdown on the clock. Mainly she said she felt burnt out, I feel for her because she's such a positive and friendly person, but you can only give so much for a crappy job. But there were probably other personal reasons as well. Anyway, we agreed to wfh on Friday, and it was a really good idea. Because yesterday my work friend and I went to this party held by 2 of her friends (who were at her bday party and apparently liked my vibes a lot because they kept asking her about me and telling her to invite me to their place for a ~party. Which was soooo cute bc I loved hanging out with them and we had such a good time yesterday! The fatigue after a full day of commuting & working in an office would have prevented us from having any fun lmao.
Anyway, something odd happened at the party: my cw and I somehow ended up on the balcony looking at the moon and talking. And she once again tried confessing her feelings for me, telling me she likes me and subtly asking about my boyfriend. Lol I don't even get her when she does stuff like this! Like, what do you really expect from me? I don't get mad at her or anything, she was drunk and she has done stuff like this before while drunk. I know it's true, but she's better at hiding it while sober. It doesn't bother me because she's not disrespectful or crossing any boundaries or anything, they're just her feelings and as long as they're not interfering with our friendship I'm okay with knowing them. But when it happens, when she starts dancing around this topic again, it confuses me because I don't understand where she's going with it, what her intentions are, what the goal is. I don't get uncomfortable and it's not awkward, I just don't know what is expected of me.
The conversation floated in the air and vanished, and then she invited me to sleep over at her place because we were both kind of drunk and her flatmate went to a wedding. So we left the party not long afterwards, and stumbled to her apartment lol (she doesn't live far from the girls' house, whereas I would have had to make it to the other side of the city, and given that I got touched inappropriately on the street not long ago, she was reluctant to let me walk by myself at night, which I appreciate). Anyway, we sat on her balcony for a while, then went to bed. We woke up early and a bit hungover but not badly, then watched some Youtube vids in bed, and fell asleep again. Got up, ate, and then I went home. It was really beautiful outside today, but I didn't really go anywhere because I kind of wanted to be at home lol.
I'm excited to go home this week. I'm pretty sure the moon is going to be in Cancer, so that makes the reunion with my parents and the fact that I get to see and cozy up in their new house makes it even cuter. My bf might come to the city on Monday morning for a quick errand, so we'll get to see each other for a few hours, which is exciting and lovely, but I feel bad that he has to make so many trips for college and he can't even spend more time with me :( </3 But it's okay because he'll be here after his birthday too.
Speaking of, I was wondering what else to get him for his birthday, but I've also been thinking about getting my work friend something else to go with the hamster mug I got her a while ago. I'll probably go out tomorrow, I also have to look for some pants for myself, and perhaps a new journal.
This week I've been watching a Youtube girl who used to post videos about her mundane routine and stuff like that, and she was saying that she had started writing in her journal more often. She mentioned that she had a few year long gap in which she never wrote in her journal, and that period is now a blurry mess in her mind, and the exact same thing happened to me! Well, I can't say I don't remember anything from the years in which I *did* write but threw out my journals, but being able to reread past entries just helps me understand myself on a higher level. Like, the first 2ish pandemic years are like a black stain in my mind not just because of how abysmally depressing they were, but also because I barely ever wrote consistently in my journal. Sometimes I feel silly for having been such a pessimist and so paralyzed with fear and grief, but I'm sure it felt different to be then & there, in those times. Again, maybe having a written record of those years would have helped me understand my past self better. I do keep a journal now, but it's more of a "5 entries per year" type of situation rather than a consistent practice. Maybe I'm too stingy about notebooks lol.
#i've been looking pretty great lately#like my skin looks so smooth and clear and my hair looks and feels shiny and soft and alive#i mean it's probably ovulation but i feel compelled to thank miss venus in virgo transiting my 1st house hehe
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I think I fucked up my new friendship, they haven't really talked to me since I made a comment on a photo they sent me of v!llbur, maybe they didn't know who it was when they sent it but realized when I said that then got grossed out by me being knowledgeable of the d$mp. Idk, I really hope its not them being grossed out because of that because to me its a comfort thing, I don't obsess over every stream like some people but I still watch old vods from time to time. It's relaxing and comforting sometimes, the earlier stuff anyways.
I think they m8ght not wanna be friends anymore tho, it's only been 2 days of barely any talking but this is from previously talking almost every night no matter how late. So I think I messed up which sucks bc they're a really cool person who I don't feel pressured to hide myself from(though now that its suddenly almost silent convos I think I might end up having to from now on sadly. I was comfortable being me with them. And possibly even starting to see them as something more(?) Idk im still fucking confused over how my romantic attraction works.
Oh yeah... that's another thing. Got to see my friends today and gotta say, it's a huge fucking punch to the gut when all you friends are mostly neurotypical and you're the only autistic one who is also the only single person left in the group. Our friend group is 4 people(including me), one is engaged with a baby on the way, one has been dating an ex coworker for over 2 months in secret (she only announced this a weekish ago) and the 3rd is possibly dating her friend she met on vrc, all while little ol me is showing strangers online pictures of my ass and having sexts with said strangers because i know I wouldn't be talked to by those same people if I tried just opening up with friendly convos. I hate being the mix of labels and names that I am, it makes finding someone who's willing to put up with me impossible, even more so if I want to have them date me on top of dealing with me in general.
Nobody likes me romantically, the only ones that do are assholes who either invalidate my gender, my identity, my heritage or my disability. And theres no way I would survive being with them if I got desperate enough to put myself there(who knows though, I think I'm capable of being pretty pathetic from time to time. Enough to hate myself enough to feel happy about being someone that someone else chose.)
Fuck, I just wish I could feel happy for my friends without having to tear myself down like this because I want to be happy when they are happy so I don't bring down the fucking atmosphere like I think I did today. I didn't really contribute to any of the conversations at all through that whole hang out. Definitely the one who talked the least out of everyone, I mean that's also just typical of me though
I need to go wash up and get ready again though, I gotta walk to my uncles soon for dinner and I gotta make it look like I wasn't crying over being the only one left out of the couple talks after seeing my friends. Bye for now again. Definitely gunna be back to vent about these fucking ridiculous and fucking stupid emotions my brain and chest is feeling after today.
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the bodyguard
— Kirishima gets assigned to be the bodyguard to one of the worlds greatest idols: you. —
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pairing: bodyguard!kirishima eijirou x idol!reader
warnings: nsfw, 18+, brat taming, authority kink, spanking, blowjob, slapping, choking, brat taming, brat!reader, modern!au, no quirks, bodyguard!kirishima, idol!reader, PTSD portrayal, anxiety, war flashbacks, implied minor character death, drugging, alcohol consumption, size difference: kirishima is 2 feet taller than you, regardless of the reader’s original height. If you’re 6 ft congrats he’s 8 ft.
word count: 20,500
a/n: this is for the bnharem collab.... im so sorry, it’s 4:30 am and I have a plane to catch in 2 hours to get back to school. thank you jo for proofreading this for me because lol I am a mess. if the paragraph spacing did not work as I wish it does, please let me know so I can go in and edit in visible paragraph spacers!
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“I’ll be okay.”
The smell of dirt, sweat, and blood clung to the air.
The sun was setting, its blood-red shine illuminating against the destroyed earth, making the already bloodied soil even bloodier.
There was no telling if the land was quiet, if the reason why the world's silence was because the world just for this moment had gone silent, or if the earlier explosions were still ringing in his ears.
Kirishima sat wounded, his back pressed to the wall, his eyes wide, breathing erratic. He can’t move, can’t bother picking up the gun that lays abandoned by his knee as warm, sticky liquid spills onto his clothed knees and continues to soak the fabric of his jeans.
What had he done?
What in the fucking world had he done?!
BOOM!
Kirishima stills, his eyes stilling on the floor and looking at the clear moisture. He doesn’t need to touch his face to know it’s a combination of both sweat and tears.
His ears sing with white noise, the erratic beat of his heart, and his pained breathing.
“I’ll be okay,” the ghost taunts his mind.
But I’m not okay, Kirishima tries to speak, but knows with how his tongue is sitting like a thick dried sponge in his mouth, he won’t be able to speak. Pushing off the cold floor, flops onto his back, his arm flinging over his closed, shaken eyes until the ringing in his ear disappears into his alarm clock.
05:30.
Kirishima lays there for a bit more, his chest still heaving heavily with the weight of lead.
Inhale.
Hold.
Exhale.
Better?
No, not yet.
Kirishima runs through breathing exercises, his chest never stopping in it’s hiccuped, broken pants as his memories continue to haunt his mind. If only he was smarter, more observant, better.
“Time to get up, time to get up, time to get up,” his phone screams with his second alarm set at 06:45. The sound does what it’s intended, jolting Kirishima out of his own head. His labored breathing shallowing just enough for his lungs to finally grasp ahold of its required function.
Today was an important day for him; he needed to be on his tiptop game, according to what Toshinori said yesterday.
I’m okay, he convinced himself as he does every morning after having this dream. Kirishima flings his arm off his eyes, the morning purple sun shining softly through his blinds. I’m okay.
Date: 4/2
Time: 08:00
Location: UA Services
“And in other news, music industries princess Y/n has been attacked by yet another round of masked perpetrators. Fortunately for the music idol, she was left unhurt but was clearly rattled. This is but the fourth attack on Y/n since three weeks ago. It’s leaving many of us fans, spectators, and civilians wondering just what is being done to ensure her safety? Y/n is reported to not have a single bodyguard to her name, wanting to quote-on-quote ‘experience her fans to the fullest’, but with these recent attacks, we can’t help but hope something is done. At least until something is done about these attackers—”
Kirishima’s eyes tore away from the screen, his lips pressed into a deep frown as he took in the story. There was deep worry about it, not only because he hated the idea of people getting hurt, but because he was a big fan of yours.
Your debut album had come out during his training camp for the military. Not only was it an instant billboard smasher breaking every standing record, but his commanding officers were obsessed with the album and played it continuously until they graduated. Most of Kirishima’s comrades came to dislike your music solely because they remember throwing up, bleeding, and suffering while you sang about love and whatnot, but Kirishima? Kirishima fell in love.
It was a bright spot in his life, and he was grateful for your music, even if it has been ten years and six albums since the training camp.
“Yo, Kiri!” a voice cheered out happily as a hand clasped onto his shoulder from behind. Kirishima held the flinch that threatened to rip through his bones. Kirishima turned to find Kaminari grinning up at him, a cup of steaming tea in one hand as he grinned brightly at his coworker. “I heard you’re finally getting a good case today!”
Kirishima found himself relaxing at the sight of his rather spontaneous friend, a warm smile easing onto his face as he raised his fist for a greeting fist bump.
“We’ll see, I know Toshi’ said it was going to be important, but he also said escorting the paranoid old lady was important,” Kirishima sighed, his smile softening a bit.
Kaminari laughed, his arm slinging around Kirishima’s shoulders as he remembered that.
The little old lady was sure that the government was out to kill her and wanted protection until her son returned from his vacation. Needless to say, Kirishima had thoroughly enjoyed his time with her, even if she was a bit scary. It was a low-risk job, and he only was paranoid by her cane, which she used to thwack his back many times as she talked about how plums extended your life.
“God, I remember subbing in for you for one hour because of your family emergency, and she was so scary! She still haunts my nightmares!” Kaminari shudders, placing the cup of his tea to his lip and taking a long, slow drink. His eyes shift over to the TV, which is still broadcasting the story of your attack. “What a bunch of bastards,” he growls, eyebrows scrunching as the news reporter ends the segment. “Thinking they can go after such a beautiful and talented idol… I’ll kill them.”
Kirishima was more than well aware of Kaminari’s plentiful budding romances. The blond man fell in love with just about any smiling woman who happened to waltz in front of him. Still, unlike most times, he found himself agreeing with him.
“It sounds really serious. I hope that she really considers some type of security team,” Kirishima inputs too, taking the teacup in his fingers with a nod of thanks. “There’re too many weirdos in Japan and in the world, I wouldn’t want to hear the news the day something bad happens.”
Kaminari hums, his face nearing Kirishima’s as he takes a small sip of the apparently black tea. His eyes scrunch, and Kirishima smiles awkwardly as the blond studies him intently.
“W-Wha—”
“You like Y/n!” Kaminari exclaims (accuses, maybe?), his arm leaving Kirishima’s shoulders as he points a finger accusingly at him. “I thought I was the only one in this department who did!”
“Don’t be an idiot, Denki,” the familiar voice of Sero responds for Kirishima. “Everyone in the world is in love with Y/n; she was voted the favorite artist of the year in our company. Everyone but Bakugou voted for her if I remember correctly.”
Kirishima looks over at his black-haired friend who is rummaging through his locker, his mouth curved into an easy, teasing smile as he looks between the bashful Kaminari and sneering Bakugou, who also seemed to just walk in.
“Her shit is basic and overrated,” Bakugou defended himself. “Nothing special and bad for your brain and ears.”
“Your go-to music playlist is fifty percent death metal and alt. rock. I don’t think you have ground to say that it’s bad for your brain and ears,” Midoriya’s snicker sounded from behind Kirishima, and he looked around to see the freckled man grinning at the snarling ash blond.
“And how does your stalker ass know that, shitnerd?!”
“‘Cause I’m a stalker, duh.”
“Oh, Bakugou-kun, Midoriya-kun! You’re both here! Todoroki-kun is looking for you!”
“I’m just saying that Y/n’s dates to all the award shows and premieres have been blond. She’s into blonds, so she would totally be into me!”
“Deku, if you don’t shut up, I’m going to kill you myself.”
“You wouldn’t even be able to protect Y/n, bro. The only thing you performed well on in the application process was the tasing part. You can’t even tase people repetitively! She’d be dead in a second.”
“Can you believe my client dropped me because I couldn’t cook a five-star meal correctly? Hello, I can make 7-11 into a five-star course; it’s not my fault they’re not refined.”
“Kirishima-kun, are you okay?”
“I deadass got into a dance competition on the way to work. That’s why I’m late, why would I lie? Of course, I had to compete; my reputation was on the line!”
“Kirishima-kun?”
“Yo, he’s not looking too hot?”
“Kirishima?!”
“Can you hear us?!”
Silence.
Kirishima found himself opening his eyes — when had he closed them? For a moment, the air turned coppery, his body feeling weak, and he thought he felt something heavy on his lap. But that wasn’t right; he was standing up, he wasn’t sitting down. Most importantly, he was in Tokyo, Japan. He was alright. He was safe.
The sweat that clung to the back of his neck was cold, clammy, and intrusive. His chest felt tight again, his hands shaking so harshly the tea's warm, dark liquid was sloshing onto the floor.
There were seven pairs of eyes on him, each a different color, each swimming with concern and other emotions. Kirishima knew his ears weren’t working right now, his face unable to meet his brain's screaming demands to smile, and he watched as their mouths moved as they questioned his sanity.
He was okay.
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.”
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Touch.
Pairing: Mob Boss!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader
Genre: Angst, Fluff
Warnings: age gap, mentions of blood, graphic descriptions of violence, death
Requested: nope
Summary: "touch her and I'll kill you" but Bucky is a man of his words.
Author's Note: Hiya peeps! Okay, so regarding the ending; there's two ways to look at it. 1) soft-dark!mob!bucky or 2) arranged marriage au with a twist. you can decide that for yourself. enjoy!
---
"Appreciate it, Marvin, but really, I'll be okay," Y/N assured her coworker, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. The single dad of 2 still looked unsure. "Y/N, it's very late, please…" She continued shaking her head. "Please. My house isn't that far," she tried and he gave up. "If you say so. Let me at least walk you to the gates." She allowed him to do that.
They chatted as they walked. "How are Eva and Evan?" she grinned at him. Marvin smiled bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck. "Eva said her first word yesterday," Marvin admitted and Y/N squealed. "Ooh, what was it?!" she asked excitedly. "It was their nanny's name, actually." She smirked at the way he turned pink.
Y/N had met his kids' nanny once; she was a beautiful woman and Y/N knew Marvin had a crush on her. Her name was… Nicole, if she wasn't mistaken. "Really? That's another reason why you should ask that woman out." Marvin jokingly shoved Y/N and she laughed harder as they stood near the gates. "See you tomorrow!"
"Bye!" Y/N waved and started walking down the dimly lit street, humming under her breath. Thinking back to her chat with Marvin, a smile bloomed on her face and she chuckled to herself, shaking her head. "Oh, Marvin, you idiot," she snorted under her breath, freezing when she heard footsteps behind her. "Hi there." Slowly turning around, she saw a man.
Instinctively she took a step back; he was a bad man, he gave those vibes. "No," she said flatly and turned to leave, pausing out of fear when he harshly grabbed her arm. He spun her around and his eyes widened when they landed on her face. "Y/L/N's daughter, aren't ya, ya pretty thing," he hissed in her face and she winced.
"Let me go."
"Now that's one thing I can't do, my dear," he sighed dramatically and Y/N forced a glare on her face despite being shaken to the core. Truth was, her father ran a mob. They dealt with arms and weaponry and since Y/N had a soft soul, she had rejected her father's decision of her taking over the mob after him. He respected that, was relieved, even; he didn't want to put his daughter in danger.
Her father had a friend, young (and very good-looking, she had to admit). His name was Bucky Barnes, and he ran his own mob. His mob was bigger and more famous than her father's, he practically owned a sixth of the city. She had heard talks of her father handing his mob over to Bucky after his retirement a few years down the lane.
"Let me go," she repeated, trying to keep her voice as steady as possible as she blinked back tears. "Come on angel, I'll make it worth your time. It's been a long time since I've been with a pretty girl like you," he crooned and Y/N scrunched her nose, the action earning her a sharp slap on the cheek from the man. She cried out in pain.
Then she managed to wrench her arm away from his grip, moving to run away but this time he grabbed her waist, forcing her to elbow him in the gut. He pulled away again and she turned, placing a firm slap on his cheek as she seethed, daring him to put his hands on her again. He did, circling an arm around her shoulder as he pulled her in. She leaned forward and bit his arm. He hissed.
"You bitch!"
"Let go!" she screamed this time and he slapped her again, clamping a hand over her mouth. "I'm going to fuck the brat out of you," he whispered dangerously and Y/N's eyes watered as she tried to get away from him. A third slap, this time his ring cut her cheek. A drop of blood trickled down her soft skin and the man hummed appreciatively.
"Wh-What's your name?"
He stopped and considered her for a minute. "Rumlow," he answered simply and she started wiggling in his grip again. "Stop that!" he screamed and threw a punch at her face, hitting her square in the jaw. A fight broke out; Y/N hit him back by slapping him on the cheek again and Rumlow proceeded to choke her. Her vision going hazy she gasped and kicked him.
Straight in the crotch.
Rumlow's hands left her body as he bent forward, cupping his crotch in pain. Finding new strength, she pushed him and with nothing to ground him he fell, giving Y/N enough time to escape as she ran away, glad that she had decided to wear sneakers that day. There was only one thing on her mind; her home, which she shared with her parents.
I just want to sleep.
Coughing at times, she reached home 15 minutes later and opened the door, thinking that her parents would be asleep by then. Her watch said it was 12:30 am. Unfortunately, as she threw open the front door, she froze again for in the doorway stood her parents and in front of them, Bucky. He was holding his jacket, signalling that was about to leave.
He turned to look at her and his eyes immediately took in all the bruises that had formed on her face, as well as her clothes which were askew and the handprint of someone gripping her arm. "Y/N!" her mother exclaimed worriedly, almost fainting at the sight of her daughter looking so beaten up. Y/N's eyes snapped towards Bucky when he spoke.
"Come with me."
Without questioning his authority Y/N followed Bucky up the stairs and into the study. The moment the doors closed behind them he took her face in his hands, examining the bruises. The noise of her parents making their way upstairs stilled him for a moment but they simply walked past the study towards what he concluded was the master bedroom.
Bucky had also liked Y/N for a long time. Her parents had introduced her to him when she was 20; he was much older than her but towards the end of the day, when his friend had asked, "What do you think about my daughter?" he couldn't bring himself to lie. And surprisingly, her father was ecstatic at the idea of Bucky dating his daughter.
Well, at least he had her parents' approval.
The moment the door to the master bedroom closed, Bucky's hands resumed their motions. Y/N stood as still as possible despite being in a lot of pain, not wanting to ruin the sudden, personal moment that they were having. He had always been civil with her; never talking to her as more than a friend, never touching her for long but oh, today was much different.
Bucky carefully lifted her jaw, noticing the way she unintentionally flinched when his fingers came in contact with her chin. A broken jaw. She was also bleeding from the cheek and a trail of blood went down the corner of her lips. Barely being able to contain his anger he swiped the blood away, causing Y/N to shudder.
Tears pooled in her eyes as her skin started itching and aching. His hand left her face and gently curled around her arm, lifting it so he could get a better look at the handprint. Not one word was spoken during the entire exchange as Bucky took note of all her injuries. She suddenly lifted her hand to wipe her tears and tilted her head further up, exposing her neck.
Bucky took in a sharp intake of breath. Her neck was covered in deep purple, red and blue bruises. Someone tried to choke her. He wasn't able to contain his anger anymore but he tried his best as he finally looked Y/N in her eyes. She stared back at him, whimpering. "Who did this?" The words came out a hiss. "B-Buck…" she choked out.
"Y/N?" he whispered, bringing her hand to his lips. The intensity of the situation hit her then; Bucky liked her. Momentary happiness washed over her but there were more important things to care about. "Bucky," she breathed and leaned forward, pressing herself closer to him, wrapping her arms around his torso.
One of his hands cradled her head, discreetly checking for injuries there as his other arm went around her waist. "I need a name, sweetheart," he hummed quietly, too quietly. "R-R—" she stammered but stopped as her wounds unknowingly caught on fire at the letter. "Rumlow?" Bucky blurted out.
He didn't think that was the name she'd take but Y/N pulled away from him with a look of disbelief on her face, causing his worst fears to come true. Rumlow got to you. Fuck, that bastard was dying today. "It was him?!" Bucky gasped and Y/N nodded. "How did you know?" she croaked out, wincing when pain shot through her throat.
"We— We've got a pretty famous rivalry going on, sweetheart, surprised you didn't know that."
"Sorry, don't keep up with mob news."
He chuckled for a moment before sobering up; straightening his shoulders as a dark look crossed his face. "I have to go now, you take care of yourself, okay?" He moved to leave when Y/N pressed a hand to his chest, stopping him. She leaned on her tiptoes and gave him a quick kiss on his cheek, the action causing butterflies to flutter in his stomach.
He gently turned her head and pressed his lips to hers in a chaste kiss. "I'll visit tomorrow," he whispered and she nodded, a smile forming on her lips. "I'd like that very much." With a smile of his own he kissed her forehead and they both left the study, making their way downstairs. Bucky left the house and Y/N turned to see her mother standing at the top of the stairs.
"Your daddy has called the doctor, dear, he'll be here in 15 minutes."
"Okay, ma."
---
"Rumlow, you motherfucker!" Bucky roared as he stormed into the bar where he was sure his rival was. Behind him walked in his right-hand men Sam Wilson and Steve Rogers, followed by 15 of his men. Rumlow looked up from his corner, his eyes going wide at the furious look on Bucky's face. While he had seen the look a thousand times, something was different tonight.
Bucky spotted him and strode forward, easily pushing aside the men who came to their boss' defence. Rumlow gasped when Bucky grabbed him by the throat and smashed his skull against the table, eliciting a hiss and a low groan from the man. "You fucking dare—" Bucky began as he lifted him up, only to punch him square in the jaw like he had Y/N.
"You fucking dare put your hands on her!" Bucky shouted but Rumlow's head was spinning after he'd hit the table. For the first time, he realized, he was afraid. Of Barnes. In the background, Bucky's men, outnumbering Rumlow's men, fought. "You hurt her and now you're going to pay!" Lifting an empty bottle of vodka off the table with his free hand, Bucky smashed it on Rumlow's head.
Pieces of it got stuck in his scalp as Rumlow fell unconscious. All Bucky saw was red. He couldn't physically bear the thought of someone hurting his girl and being true to his words… "I promised her father," Bucky breathed out as he threw more punches at Rumlow's dying body, "No one was going to hurt her."
Another punch to the face. "I told him, anybody who touches her dies," Bucky hissed, "And yet you dare— I'm a man true to my words," Bucky promised in a sinister tone, knowing that he was talking to himself since Rumlow was long gone. His hand closed around Rumlow's neck. "You touch her—" He squeezed, "You die."
And Rumlow's dead body slumped on the floor.
The fight around him stopped instantly.
"We're done here."
---
"Princess?" Groaning softly, Y/N turned away from the voice and pulled the covers tighter around herself. "Away," she mumbled and heard a soft feminine laugh as well as two manly chuckles behind her. "You've been asleep a long time, baby," a familiar voice whispered, placing a hand on her arm. Her eyes flew open and she looked up, straight at Bucky.
"Oh my God!" Jumping up, she threw her arms around the man and buried her face in the crook of his neck, causing him to laugh. Smiling at each other, her parents left the room, leaving the two lovebirds alone. They were sure Bucky could handle breaking the news to her by himself. "Good morning," he greeted as he sat down, pulling her on his lap.
"Do you really like me?" she whispered, realizing that they had not made it explicitly clear last night. "Of course I do, princess. You're mine," he spoke in a possessive tone. "I'm yours," she agreed as she burrowed closer to him. "And no one touches what's mine and gets out alive." Y/N took a few moments to register those words.
When she did, she pulled away from him, still straddling his lap as she stared at him, jaw dropped. "You…" He nodded and Y/N's eyes went wide. Though he was delivering the news of someone's death, Y/N couldn't bring herself to feel bad. He had attacked her, he got what he deserved. "I— I don't know what to say."
"You don't have to say anything, I just wanted to tell you what I did. We can talk about something else," he offered and a smile immediately bloomed on her face. "How long have you liked me?" He laughed before cupping her face, pulling her down to press his lips to hers. "Ever since I met you 5 years ago, doll, I was smitten." Y/N gasped against his lips.
"Ever since you met me?! Me too!"
"Really?" He grinned broadly at the look of excitement on her face. My sweet angel. "Really! I— I think I might… I think I might love you but it's too early on—" she stammered but Bucky took her hands, tears starting to glisten in his eyes at her words. She loves me. "Princess, I love you too," he admitted and she paused.
"Bucky, I love you!" she smiled hugely and hugged him tightly. Bucky quietly wiped his tears off, pressing a soft kiss to her neck. He could see the bruises fading away and that calmed his heart. She's safe with me. And I'm never letting her go. "So, there's some news…" he continued and she pulled away, a curious look on her face.
"What is that?"
"Your father is retiring. I'm gonna take over the mob now." Y/N squealed and clapped her hands; she knew her father made a great decision. Bucky was more than competent. "Congratulations!" she shouted and jumped out of his arms, running out of the room to wish her father the same. Bucky chuckled as he stayed there for a moment more, running his hand through his hair.
"Can't wait to make you my wife, baby."
---
A/N: Three Bucky fics in a row 👀 leave a like if you enjoyed, thanks for reading! I really appreciate it (and thanks for 430 followers lol I love every single one of you)
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x female reader#james buchanan barnes#bucky barnes angst#winter soldier#sebastian stan x reader#sebastian stan x y/n#sebastian stan x you#sebastian stan x female reader#sebastian stan characters#disney#mcu#marvel#avengers#fanfic#writing#writeblr
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Prince Charming (Loki x Female Reader)- Part 2
I was too excited to wait any longer before posting part 2! This part is pretty long but it didn’t feel right to split it anywhere. Over 3k words!
Summary: Things with Chaos begin to develop pretty quickly now that Loki his preoccupied with is new girl.
Warnings: none, just fluff
"Nice of you to join us, Sleeping Beauty!”
10 minutes late. Chaos had certainly accepted the challenge, alright. The sun was already peeking through the building outside your window when the two of you called it a night. Could it still be calling it a night when it wasn’t night anymore though? You had lost track of time in the shower replaying the conversation over again. The lack of hot water quickly brought you back to reality and you grabbed the closest outfit you could reach and threw your hair up in a bun as you raced to the conference room. You noticed Loki giving you a confused stare from across the table. He pretended to pay attention while typing a message out to you from his tablet.
L.Laufeyson: You’re staring off into space and grinning like a mad man. Stop it. It makes you look creepy.
You rolled your eyes and stuck your tongue out at him when Rogers turned his back to face the screen.
Who are you calling creepy? I know you only pay attention to the parts about hostile takedowns. Maybe I just really enjoy 7am mission briefings. You don’t know me as well as you think you do Mischief!
When Tony shared a look between you and Loki from his end of the table, you both put the tablets down and made a better attempt to pay attention. You tried to quietly hide your yawn. Maybe you could sneak in a nap later since you hadn’t actually gotten a wink of sleep.
Over the next few weeks, you not only talked to Chaos every night you weren’t away for a mission, the two of you had begun to exchange a few messages throughout the day as well when you both weren’t busy with work. Since you weren’t really hanging out with Loki much anymore, it was a welcomed distraction. You had come across him on his phone on several occasions with his book carelessly discarded somewhere nearby. He always seemed to get frustrated with you when you interrupted his reading so this girl must really be special to him. One afternoon, you swore you heard him sigh after putting his phone away. It felt like a punch to the gut. If he even noticed that you hadn’t had one of your movie nights or dinners together in nearly a month, it didn’t seem to bother him. It just gave you more excuses to return the flirtatious advances from Chaos. You couldn’t say that you were really fighting it all that hard though. It may have started out as a distraction, but it felt really good to feel wanted by someone again. Being head over heels for your best friend, coworker, and pretty much roommate makes dating kind of difficult.
With Rogers away on a mission, you cut training a few minutes short to hurry back to your room. A huge grin slowly spread to see the light in the corner of your tablet flashing. Even though it was hard, you resisted the huge to check the message and made yourself shower and change first. Once you were changed into your pajamas for the night, you curled up on the corner of the sofa in your room and slid the screen on.
Dove, I know you won’t see this until late this evening, but I didn’t want to wait another second to tell you that I truly missed our talks the last several nights while I was away. I’m anxiously counting down the minutes until you arrive home from work. You’ve quickly become my favorite part of my day
This guy knew exactly what to say to make you swoon. Part of you was glad he couldn’t see how often he made you blush. You noticed the message was sent just before you returned to your room and Chaos was still logged in.
What if you didn’t have to wait until late this evening?
The fact that he was immediately responding made you smile. Although it was foolish to believe the guy would be staring at the computer waiting for you, it still gave you butterflies when he was so eager to talk to you.
I’d say that’s the best news I’ve heard all day. Not that I’m not excited to see you online, but don’t you still have a few hours of work left, darling?
Grabbing a blanket off the back of the couch, you snuggled up on the couch with the charger for your tablet placed within reach.
Boss is out of town, so I cut out early today. Curling up at home to watch the rain while talking to my favorite person sounded better anyways 😉
Your secret is safe with me. Rainy afternoons curled up with a good book is on my list of favorite things, though speaking with you might have recently taken a higher position on said list. Would it be too forward of me to say that I would rather spend a rainy afternoon like this by your side instead of speaking through an electronic device?
There it goes again. You feel the heat on your cheeks as you bite your lip to control the grin on your face.
Were you really on a business trip or were you just spending time thinking of things to say to make me blush? Not that I’m complaining really. To answer your question, no it wouldn’t be too forward. I was thinking the same just now actually…
You always know how to make me laugh. Unfortunately, I’m not that smooth. I truly was away for business. I can’t help but wonder now how often I cause a blush to form on your cheeks. Maybe that will be my new mission, though it would not be a fruitful endeavor without seeing it in person. I’m sure it’s adorable
Not that smooth? I beg to differ! The number of times you make me absolutely swoon tells a different story. In order to keep my dignity, I won’t disclose what that number actually is at the moment. Let’s just say you must read classical literature and Shakespeare on a regular basis because it shows. Enough of my blushing and swooning! So, Chaos, if we were to be face to face on a rainy afternoon like this, how would we spend it? Not that I am assessing your dating skills or anything… or am I?
The fact that I make you blush and swoon often is quite flattering actually. I was raised somewhat old-fashioned I guess you could say. I was taught that a woman should be treated as a princess and that anything less is disrespectful. I guess you could thank my mother for that. If I’m being completely transparent, you tend to cause me to “blush and swoon” quite often as well, Dove. The feelings you stir within me make it nearly impossible to not let a smile grace my lips at the very thought of you…
Now that I’m sure I have a blush once again residing on your cheeks, I believe you inquired about my dating skills in a not-so-subtle way… Given the honor to have you accompany me on a date on a rainy afternoon such as this, I would say that a visit to a secondhand bookstore would be in order. I of course have a few around the city I like to frequent already. I would enjoy the opportunity to discover what books captured your attention and compare our favorites. Once we had found a few treasures and picked out at least one for the other to enjoy, we would find a place to sit and converse, just like we do here already. A quiet corner of a coffee shop would be a preferred place of mine. It would give us the chance to people watch as well. We could even make up stories about their lives and what we thought their day had entailed. If you didn’t feel it to be too intimate for such a date, I wouldn’t be opposed to finding a quiet place to curl up together to watch the rain and sit and read together.
I admit that I’m now quite curious, Darling. How does my answer fair in your assessment that you may or may not be performing on my ability to court?
You reread his answer a few times before you remembered that you now needed to write back. How could you be so flustered over….words? Now seemed like a good time to run to the kitchen for a snack. Something told you that you had already decided exactly how you wished to spend your evening.
As you made yourself a hot tea and let yourself imagine what a date like that with him would be like, you looked up to see Nat and Wanda standing there staring at you.
“I’m sorry. What did you say?”
They shared a look before turning back to you.
“Nat, I think our girl just literally floated into the room. She also hasn’t stopped smiling for days now. Could it possibly have anything to do with this mystery guy that you keep dashing away to talk to on your tablet possibly?”
Wanda and Nat laughed as they stood and waited for their answer. Nat was even more forward.
“It’s no secret. You charge that tablet nearly three times a day now. When are you just going to meet him already? You obviously are already completely smitten with each other. It’s written all over your face and if he is making you look like this all of the time, he must be pretty dreamy.”
You willed the kettle to heat up faster to escape this conversation.
“I don’t know. Maybe we will meet up at some point, but things are pretty great right now. What if we meet in person and there is no chemistry?”
Nat came and put a hand on either cheek, holding your head in her hands.
“Sweetie, if this guy was enough to help you forget that you are madly in love with your best friend, then there is zero chance that you two lack chemistry.”
They both laughed at the shocked look on your face. Wanda patted you on the shoulder and whispered as she walked by.
“Yeah, we know about that too. You don’t hide the way you stare at him very well. The only person who can’t see your feelings is Loki.”
Squeezing the bridge of your nose out of frustration, you whispered under your breath.
“Are there no secrets in this building?!”
Wanda seemed to get an idea and turned back around before leaving the kitchen.
“The costume party! That’s how you can meet him in person! Invite him to Tony’s costume party next week. If you don’t feel it in person, you will be in disguise anyways since it’s a masquerade ball! It’s perfect! Your own little fairy tale!”
Just as Nat got excited as well, you put a stop to it.
“Absolutely not! That is so cliché even for you two! Plus, I’m not meeting him for the first time in the lion’s den. That’s just cruel. Get over it. I am not inviting him to Tony’s party, end of discussion.”
“Inviting who?”
Your head whipped around to see Loki standing at the edge of the kitchen. His wet hair formed soft curls against his shoulders and left damp spots on the tight t-shirt that hugged him in all the right places. The sweatpants that hug low on his hips didn’t help stop your breath from quickening. You felt frozen under his gaze.
“Who are you not inviting, Bug?”
Before you could answer, Nat spoke up.
“Her new Boy Toy…”
You shot a warning glare to her before turning back to Loki in time to catch the smirk form on his lips.
“Boy Toy? Is that who has been stealing you away from me? Well then, sit by me tonight for movie night and you can tell me why exactly he is not being invited to Tony’s party.”
“I uh… I can’t tonight.”
He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at you.
“Come on Ladybug. I haven’t seen you in days and we both know we haven’t had a movie night in ages. Don’t you love me anymore?”
You unsuccessfully hid the squeak that escaped at his question. The pout he gave you told you that he was joking and not actually acknowledging the fact that you had been head over heels for him for way longer than should be allowed. Just as you tried to come up with anything at all to say, Wanda covered for you.
“She has a date with the Boy Toy.”
He seemed to accept that answer.
“Fine. But I expect you to attend the next one, Bug. Better not keep the Boy Toy waiting now.”
As he turned to head into the living room, the kettle started to whistle, and you let out a sigh of relief. When you finished making your tea and grabbing enough snacks to not have to leave your room anymore tonight, you turned to face them one more time.
“You two better help me find a damn good costume… I can’t believe I’m going to do this.”
They giggled and high fived as you shook your head. On the way back to your room, your mind drifted back to Loki. It was time to move on. At the mention of you dating someone, there was zero trace of jealously or emotion in his face. He didn’t see you like that and he never would. You had a guy that showed genuine interest in you and freely let you know as well. There was no wondering if Chaos wanted something more with you than a casual chat online. Meeting a stranger in person couldn’t be any safer than in a high security tower surrounded by the Avengers.
You took a sip of your tea and smiled at the flashing light on the tablet on the couch beside you.
I hope your silence isn’t an indication of a poor assessment…
Sorry! No not at all! I just stepped away for a minute to get something to eat. Although it is fun to make you sweat it out a little…
To say I’m relieved is an understatement, Dove. I thought maybe I had made you uncomfortable earlier.
Quite the opposite actually. It sounds like the perfect date to be honest. I’m quite the cuddler when given the chance. In fact, I’m curled up with a blanket and a hot tea as we speak…
Then I shall be jealous of said blanket and mug since they get to cuddle with you instead of me… Since we appear to both have the same thoughts as to what constitutes the perfect date, does that mean you find my skills adequate?
I suppose… 😊
So, Chaos, if you’ve already put thought into the two of us on a date, does that mean that you might want more than just exchanging messages online?... now I’m the one worried about being too forward!
As the bubbles appeared and you waited for a response, you started to regret being so blunt with your questioning.
Darling, I’ve wanted that longer than I care to admit, so no you are not being too forward. I’ve thought about breaching the subject of meeting you in person for some time but could never gather the courage to do so. I’ve honestly never had a connection with someone truly as strong as I feel with you. Is a face-to-face meeting something you might want as well?
Absolutely. I’ve been nervous to bring it up too. I didn’t want to assume that the connection was mutual and end up embarrassing myself. I’ve made the mistake in the past of letting my heart get involved to find out too late that those feelings were not returned. It’s not something I wish to go through more than once.
Dove, I can assure you that is not the case with me. I assure you that any feelings you may have developed are returned tenfold. I have never seen your face or heard your voice, yet you have my heart… Does this mean I will soon get the opportunity to see the effects of this blushing and swooning you speak of with my own eyes?
That is really good to hear and I guess I need to start hiding such effects now… So … there is a reason for my line of questioning actually…
Oh? It that so? Please continue…
I’ve actually been given an invitation to a party at Stark Tower next weekend being hosted by the Avengers. Since we did meet in an Avengers chat room, it seems kind of poetic that we meet up at an event hosted by them.
It really is poetic isn’t it? I’m aware of the event you speak of though I hadn’t planned on attending. I would be willing to reconsider however if I knew that you were in attendance as well. Is it a masquerade ball in fact, is it not?
Yes, everyone attending is expected to be in costume. If I was not only in attendance, but there as your date, would it be enough to help you reconsider?...
More than enough, My Love.
Well, it’s a date then 😊
It would be my honor, Dove. There is still one matter to discuss. If we are both in costume, how exactly will I know when I’ve found you?
Would it be too cliché to attend as Cinderella and Prince Charming? It is a ball after all.
Not at all. In fact, I find it to be quite a romantic gesture to meet my princess for the first time dressed as her Prince Charming. You deserve to have your fairy tale moment, Darling.
So, it’s settled then. Next Saturday. Do you need me to get you put on the guest list?
That won’t be necessary. You aren’t the only one with connections, Love.
#loki fluff#loki smut#loki angst#loki fanfic#loki fandom#loki laufeyson#tom hiddleston smut#tom hiddleston angst#tom hiddleston fluff#tom hiddleston fanfic#tom hiddleston fanfiction#marvel
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The gaps in your hearts (Part 2)
Lou Miller x fem!reader
A/N: You asked for part 2, and I shall deliver. I hope it's worth your wait!!
Summary: After your departure, an unexpected circumstance had you arriving back at the loft, back at Lou. Will the gaps in your hearts only become wider or will they be finally filled?
Part one
“Oh, bugger. Baby? I’m home.”
“Nice place.”
“Try heating it.”
“There’s a room for you upstairs. Your stuff’s upstairs too.”
Lou called your name a couple of times but she got no answer. Maybe you went out and got something from the store. She furrowed her eyebrows at the notion that you didn’t let her know you’ll go out like you usually does.
She can’t wait for you to meet Debbie.
The sun has set down and you weren’t at home yet. Lou was growing worried each minute that passes. She’d left you text messages, she tried to call you several times, but all of it went to voicemail. Where did you go?
Debbie had returned from her closure meeting with Claude. She had bought takeout for dinner but Lou wasn’t in any mood to eat. She was antsy but keeping it down so her friend won’t notice. Maybe you were called in at work? Maybe you went out with a friend and forgot to send her a text. The blonde knows you can perfectly take care of yourself but she can’t help but be worried.
“Where’s your girl?” Debbie asked, reminded of Lou calling someone ‘baby’ when they arrived earlier.
Lou just shrugged her shoulders, not really knowing what to answer.
“Maybe she hit her head and woke up from the truth,” the brunette joked.
Lou glared at her friend. “Not funny.”
“Tell me about her.”
The blonde started to tell her friend everything. From how you met, the ups and downs of your relationship, and how loving and wonderful you are. You were patient and understanding; you were perfect in every way and she hated how she’d managed to hurt the one person that did nothing but love her.
The day you moved out of the loft was the most devastating day of her life. It was way much worse than when Debbie left before.
She knew that you were checking in on her through Matt, and she was wracked with guilt. Even after what she’d done, you still care for her. Lou unconsciously checks her phone to see if you left a message but to no avail. You really honoured your word that you’d give her time, and she was thankful for that.
In your two-month break, she really had thought about it all. She used the time to sort out her feelings. Hell, she even opened up to some of her other friends for help, something she rarely does even with those who know her. Unearthing her feelings.
Lou had feelings for Debbie. She didn’t know if it was romantic or if it was just a deep affection. She didn’t really think much of it. Debbie was one of the few of the persons she knows she could trust with her life and in the conworld, such a person was like a rare gem. It was hard to find, and if you do, you’ve got to treasure it. And so she did.
“Maybe you’d mistaken the concept of love and affection. You told me you really didn’t think anything about it and that explains it. The moment you felt that that person was dear to you, you immediately equated it to romantic love.”
The words mentioned had hit Lou, hard. Once she realized that, she promptly had to find you. She called you, but you didn’t answer. She didn’t know where you were staying so she asked your friends, and that’s how Lou found you drowning in liquor in some alley.
“You’re an idiot, you know that?” Debbie berated, feeling rather guilty about how she was probably the reason you left for the second time around.
“I do. No need to remind me.”
“I’m gonna tell you to go find her, but I also need you to focus on the job. Can you do both?”
“Of course,” Lou sighed. She won’t know what she would do if she were to lose you for real this time.
-
You were feeling rueful for leaving Lou without a word. You knew she’d be worried sick, but it was the best for the two of you. Once again, you fell into your routine. It was incredibly helpful that an event was coming and you can spend all of your time at work. Though this time, the constant drinking was out of your to-do list.
Your mind often wandered to Lou. She said something about a job, maybe that’s what they’re doing right now. Has she been thinking of you too?
The messages and missed calls Lou had sent you were not in your knowledge as you’d let your best friend hide your phone, and bought a new one for you. At first, you thought that it would be ridiculous and childlike of you but maybe she had a point. The worst-case scenario would be Lou filing for a missing person’s case, but you knew she wouldn’t dare cross paths with the police.
-
“Oh my god, you guys. This party is nuts. I’m not kidding! If your dress is ugly, you can’t wear it, no shit! They will bower your wardrobe!” Tammy rambled and rushed to get into the loft where she got everyone’s attention.
“I love that!” Lou quipped.
“Oh I gotta pee,” Tammy continued to ramble. “Every table cost a quarter-million dollars that if they allow you to buy one! I mean not just any $250,000 check will be approved, I mean they literally have to tell you whether or not they’ll take your money, it’s crazy!”
Everyone was standing outside the bathroom, still listening to Tammy rant about the Met.
“And then you can’t bring anyone, that you clearly go by yourself. They spend a hundred grand on food and apparently no one eats, it’s really crazy,” the blonde finished as she went out, kind of out of breath from the continuous rambling.
“Did you get the seating chart?” asked Debbie.
“The what?”
“The seating chart.” Tammy handed the special glasses she was wearing to Debbie.
“If I haven’t said it, it’s really crazy. This one person that I’m working with maybe is the only saving grace of that place. Thank goodness for Y/N,” the blonde sighed, capturing the attention of Lou.
She shared looks with Debbie, hoping that it was you their friend was talking about.
After discussing the seating chart, they approached Tammy and straightforwardly asked about you, if you were the same person she’d mentioned. Apparently, you quit your last job and had started few weeks prior to Tammy. Lou asked if you’re doing well, and almost cried when she nodded. When Tammy asked why they are curious, Debbie answered. “Lou’s girl. Left because of this dumbass right here.”
The blonde had a surprised expression on her face, a bit amazed at how small the world is. The person they’ve been looking for was only at their reach this whole time.
“She’s sweet. If you’re planning to get her back, which I know you would, you better not mess up.”
Since that day, Lou was itching to contact you but inhibited herself. She’d finish the job first, then she would have you back. If she was lucky enough to be given a second chance, which she wouldn’t fucking waste, she can finally go to California riding with you on her new bike like you always wanted to do.
Finally, it was the first Monday in May. Lou was still in the van with Nineball, preparing food for her. She remembered you telling her she would look good in a chef’s uniform. She wasn’t actually a chef right now, but she still owes you a hundred bucks.
What if you weren’t gone? Maybe you would be in on the heist too, and you would be the most beautiful woman in her eyes, everyone else in the Met is damned. She knew you would have loved and drooled over the green jumpsuit she was wearing.
The heist was successful, and the ladies were lounging at the loft. Their dillydally was halted when an unexpected guest has stormed the loft. Daphne Kluger.
“You guys are fucked,” the actress huffed. “Wow, nice place.”
“Excuse me, you are trespassing-”
“No, we asked her to come,” Lou cut Tammy’s accusation.
Debbie started to explain how Daphne might have gotten a sense of what they were doing, so they roped the brunette in. Daphne then asserted how she was the one who was saving everyone from insurance fraud. Another revelation had caused panic to those who didn’t know, scared that they might be busted and imprisoned.
“We will not be the prime suspect.”
“Then who will be the prime suspect?”
Lou listed several people like the security guys and the busboy. Their attention was focused on Daphne that they didn’t notice another person coming in. You quietly opened the door in purpose, glancing at each of the women inside. You’d heard the last bit of their conversation and captured their attention by announcing your presence.
“The shady guy who put Debbie away,” you casually commented, walking towards everyone.
“Wow,” Daphne chuckled. “The boyfriend.”
Everyone but Debbie and Daphne was shocked, for the third time around. They didn’t really expect guests today. Lou looked like she had seen a ghost but didn’t take her eyes off you.
“Yup. If they were gonna be looking for somebody, just had to make sure it wasn’t one of us.”
You whispered a “Hi, Tam” to your coworker, and took a sit in the middle of her and Daphne. “The precision, right?” the actress turned to you. “The attention to detail, a little grace note that really makes something sing.”
While she was blubbering about how well-thought the job was, she scooted closer to you and put a hand on your thigh. Lou raised an eyebrow at the action, jealousy bubbling in her chest.
“Why are you doing this?” Tammy asked, referring to Daphne. “And Y/N? You were in too? How?”
You let the brunette answer first and when she finished, Debbie had answered for you.
“She was our other mole in the Met, aside from you and Nine.”
“Oh, you were an angel, Y/N. She made sure I was okay after hurling my guts out. Much much better company than my date,” Daphne preached, leaning her head on your shoulder. You rest your head on hers in return.
Lou’s jaw was gritted, it was too much for her and she couldn’t look any longer. She looked at Debbie and gave her a perplexed look, asking for further explanation.
The brunette just shrugged her shoulder, knowing it was up to you to talk to Lou. After all, it was the reason she approached you. At first, she had only talked to you about Lou, but later called to ask if you were willing to join in the job. You’d said yes right away.
That night, you saw Lou sitting near the shore. She was staring straight ahead as you sat next to her.
“Lou?”
“You know, I planned to talk to you after we got the money. But you got to me first,” she whispered.
“You have to thank Debs for that.”
Lou chuckled, “Debs? What, you’re on a nickname basis now? She doesn’t even let me call her that.”
“She told me everything. And, I- I’m sorry, Lou. I shouldn’t have left like that, left you worried though you had a job to focus on-”
Lou cut you off as she pulled you in for a hug. “No, Y/N. I should be the one apologizing.”
Her hand was running up and down your back, the touch soothing all of your troubles. You can finally feel at peace. There was no snarling voice at the back of your head, no heavy feeling. You feel like a sailor in the middle of a calm sea.
“I’ll make it up to you, for real, this time,” Lou pulled back, giving you a smile. You nodded in return.
“Although you may have to explain first what was that earlier,” her smile faded, and glared at you playfully.
You were about to ask what she was referring to when you suddenly remembered. You told her how you may or may not have told Daphne that you were on a rough patch and she volunteered to help make Lou jealous. Both of you shared a laugh as she commented on how effective it was that she had to restrain herself from tearing you apart from the actress.
There was no time to waste, you thought as you pressed your lips against Lou’s. The kiss was slow and passionate, the both of you pouring all your feelings out. Her hand entangled itself on the base of your skull as she deepened the kiss, tongue swiping on your bottom lip asking for entrance. You let her dominate you, a soft moan coaxed out of your mouth.
The only thing you could focus on was the feeling of Lou’s lips; your hammering heart and the waves lapping gently at the shore.
“I love you, baby,” Lou murmured, both of you breathless.
“I know, Lou. I love you too.”
#cate blanchett#cate blanchett x reader#lou miller x reader#lou miller#ocean's 8#ocean's 8 fanfiction#debbie ocean#tammy#daphne kluger
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Always You | JJK (Drabble#2)
Summary: Jungkook is sick and needs your love.
Pairing: Always You!Jungkook x female reader
Genre: fluff, implied smut.
Word count: 2.2k
Warnings: none really! enjoy
Notes: no smut in this one! I’m surprised at myself lol Enjoy:)
Taglist: @seagulljk
© taestefully-in-luv
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You are the definition of exhausted. Work was hectic today to say the least, you didn’t think all these cookie orders would come out of thin air like the way they did today. You and your coworkers are so god damn tired but still decided that you guys were going to hit a bar to celebrate that the day is over. You were going to at least. That is until you were on your way to your car when your phone started buzzing with incoming messages.
Jungkook 9:24pm
Baby I am dying I think I am actually dying
Jungkook 9:24pm
Is it normal to have hallucinations while on nyquil
Jungkook 9:25pm
Bc I keep thinking you’re here and your gorgeous lips are on my dick
Jungkook 9:25pm
Oh my goodddd I am dying, I need you
Jungkook 9:25pm
I need you
You look at your screen and frown…Jungkook mentioned this morning he was feeling sort of…under the weather. But now he’s talking about dying? While you are stubborn while sick, Jungkook is quite the opposite. He’s needy, wants attention and will pretty much do anything you ask.
y/n 9:27pm
Do I need to come take care of you?
Jungkook 9:27pm
Yes:( please come home…
“y/n!” Jade jogs up to you, stopping when she gets to you and your car. “Want to ride together?”
“Ah,” you bite down on your bottom lip, “Actually my boyfriend is sick and—”
“You can say ‘Jungkook’” Jade rolls her eyes playfully, “But I get it, saying ‘boyfriend’ is fun, huh?”
You blush, feeling embarrassed. “Yeah, well. Jungkook is kind of sick and he’s such a baby when he’s like this and—”
“No need to explain.” She smiles, “Go. Next time,” she promises. “But you owe me a drink for leaving me with these fools. Hazel is apparently meeting us too, and you know how Adam gets.” She teases, “So, you owe me.”
“Noted.” You laugh, “See you later, Jade.”
You get inside your car, turning the ignition on when your phone starts buzzing again, this time a phone call from none other than your boyfriend.
“Hello?” you bring the phone to your ear. “Jungkook?”
“Baby.” Jungkook drags out the word in a whine, “Please bring me more medicine.” He softly begs. You have to admit he does sound pretty pathetic. You can’t help but pity him as he starts dramatically coughing on the other side of the line.
“And please hurry. I need you. Need you to cuddle me and kiss me. I think your kisses could possibly cure me.”
“I’m about to leave work right now,” you confirm, “Which meds should I get you? What are you feeling exactly?”
“I’m feeling so…so in love with you.” He slurs from his drowsy state, then starts giggling.
“Jungkook.” You deadpan. “What are your symptoms?”
“It’s just a cold.” He says, “I think it’s what Jimin had a few days ago. That bastard passed it to me.”
“And you want me to kiss you?!” you laugh, “I’m not trying to get sick.”
“No, no. Don’t worry baby, our power of love will fight against it.”
“You are so…” you begin laughing again, your blush deepening. “I’ll be home in like 30 minutes, okay? Think you’ll be alive when I get there?”
“Your love keeps me alive.” He teases, “See you soon. Love you.”
“Love you, bye.” You bring the phone down and click the end button. The AC is blowing in your face, cooling you from the warmth that had crept on your cheeks while talking to Jungkook. It’s unbelievable that he’s able to make you blush like this, like as if this was completely brand new like you haven’t known him for years.
~~~~~~
The apartment is completely dark when you walk in and also completely quiet. Did Jungkook fall asleep? Did that NyQuil finally do its job? You set the bag of meds down on the breakfast table and turn on the kitchen light. You walk into the kitchen and grab a glass from the cabinet to fetch you some water, it’s nice and cold as if travels down your throat. It feels nice… the dark, quiet apartment—you need the rest after today. You think you’re about to go find a sleeping Jungkook and get some sleep yourself when you feel two strong arms wrap around your waist.
“You’re finally here.” Jungkook whispers, “I waited all day for you.” He whines and you smile for him even though he can’t see.
“All day?” you ask, “Should I have left work to come take care of you?” you tease.
“Yes,” he responds shamelessly. “I missed you so much…I think that’s why I just got sicker throughout the day.” He tightens his hold on you but immediately loosens his grip from how weak he feels.
“Come to bed.” He commands and you spin around in his grasp to face him.
“I need to shower and get ready first.” You explain and he looks at you with sad, tired eyes.
“No.” he pouts, “Who cares? Just change and come to bed.”
“Jungkook.” You chuckle. “I worked hard today, I need a shower.”
Jungkook brings you into his chest and he inhales you, taking in your scent and he melts.
“You smell fine, y/n.”
“I smell like cookies.”
“Smells good.”
“Fine, let’s go to bed.”
Jungkook’s sleepy face lights up and he turns your body around so your back is flush against his chest and he holds on to you.
“Lead the way.” He chirps, “I’m not letting go.”
“Jungkook…” you whine as you try walking forward and he follows you while holding on to you as tight as his tired body possibly can.
You two walk into your shared bedroom and he finally drops his arms to his side and makes his way into bed. You go to your drawer and pull out one of his t shirts…you slip off your work clothes for the day and drag the t shirt of your body.
“Cutie.” Jungkook comments as he lays back and watches you change.
“Oh shit, I forgot to grab your meds. I’ll be right back.” You say making Jungkook frown. You make your way back into the kitchen and grab the baggy full of medicine plus a glass of water and walk back into the room when you notice Jungkook dozing off.
“Babe?” you whisper and his eyes immediately shoot open.
“Come cuddle me.” He weakly pats the spot next to him and you smile.
“Take these first.”
“Yes mam.”
He looks up at you with his beautiful doe eyes, a look of submission written all over his face.
“These first.” You hand him two different pills as you sit on the edge of the bed and he swallows them down quickly while staring into your eyes.
“Now these.”
Jungkook nods his head while taking another two pills.
“Any more?” he asks quietly.
“That’s it for your meds.”
“Wrong.” He states. “I need the most powerful medicine of all.” He gives you a soft smile, “Need a kiss from my baby…please, please kiss me. Missed your lips all day.”
“Jungkook…”
“Your kiss will cure me, I’m sure of it.” He whispers softly. “All I need is you to be okay.”
Your eyes widen at his cute confession, he’s so god damn sleepy—you can tell. His eyes are barely staying open but he just wants to be with you. He is trying his hardest to stay awake because he missed you so much throughout the day.
“Please.” He quietly begs. “Need you.”
You search his eyes and find nothing but love in them, you can’t help but beam at him. One kiss can’t hurt you, right?
You scoot closer to him on the bed, your hands finding themselves in his Jungkook’s hair as you softly bring his face closer to you.
“One kiss.” You promise and Jungkook nods his head slowly with a dopey grin on his face.
“We’ll see about that.” He says under his breath and you laugh while leaning in closer to his face.
You lean in until his breaths hit your lips, your lips just barely touching his and he grows weaker at the contact.
“Please.” He begs again, his words hitting your mouth. “Please.”
You peck his lips softly, just giving him a slow kiss. He kisses back, his lips moving against yours so tenderly it makes you melt. You can tell he has no energy but he continues to kiss you. He slants his mouth over yours and tries to deepen the kiss, you tilt your head and give him a better angle. You said one kiss but…
Suddenly, you feel the wetness of his tongue poking out, trying to find its way between your lips. You open your moth just a little wider to give him access to your own tongue, he slides his in your mouth and slowly caresses his with yours. He releases a long, soft moan and you hate that you get so turned on hearing him. This isn’t a moment to get turned on, this is a sweet, tender moment.
Jungkook slips his tongue out and begins pecking your lips again, a little faster than before. But then he pulls back, his breaths nice and heavy.
“I’m so dizzy.” he says with his eyes closed.
“Me too.” You admit, feeling quite breathless yourself.
“No…I mean, like, literally. I don’t feel good.” He breathes out, “Kissing you, I think took all the energy I have left…what are you like a succubus or something?” he jokes.
“Baby, you need to sleep.”
“Snuggle with me, please.” He pats the spot next to him again and you get up and walk over to that side of the bed. You slip underneath the sheets and move your body close to his. You can feel all his heat radiate off his body and you frown…he must have a fever.
“Let’s sleep, my love.” You say but Jungkook weakly shakes his head.
“Wanna hear about your day.” He sinks deeper into the covers and lays his head on your chest, wrapping his arms around your waist.
“It was busy, we had what felt like a million orders today. Yoongi even came by but left because we were so busy.”
“Mhm.” He nuzzles his face into your breasts, “Did you think of me today?” he asks.
“I always think of you.” You admit.
“I thought of you so much today.” He says between heavy sighs, “Missed you so much.” He squeezes your body tighter. “I don’t think I can be without you for very long.”
You feel your heart pinch in your chest…because…
“You can. You’re just a baby.” You tease.
“No, I really don’t think I can. I felt myself grow weaker every moment I was without you.” He huffs into your chest. You caress his back as he speaks, his words becoming more and more slurred and distant from on another. He’s so tired.
“You love me that much?” you get out in a whisper and it’s silent for a few moments, you think maybe he finally fell asleep until you hear him sigh out.
“I literally don’t love anyone as much as I love you.”
You keep quiet for a few moments too long because after around a minute or so you hear Jungkook lightly snoring into your chest…you can’t help but smile down at him. He’s wrapped his entire body around you, holding you, squeezing you. You caress his back some more and start to feel yourself fall asleep as well. Your eyes getting heavier and heavier until the world becomes dark.
~~~~~
“Good morning!” You feel Jungkook’s breath on your ear, you begin to open your eyes, blinking lazily at your surroundings.
“Morning?” you question since it’s still dark in the room. “It’s still night?” you ask.
“It’s like 5am.” Jungkook states. Your eyes finally begin adjusting in the darkness and you notice Jungkook looks ten times better. He still looks tired but he has more life.
“Your kiss cured me, if that’s what you are thinking about.” He smiles that bunny smile and you laugh.
“I thought it drained you of your life?” you sit up on your elbows, “That I’m a succubus?”
“No, it helped me sleep so it could work its love magic on me and now I feel almost all the way better.”
“Almost?” you quirk a brow and he chuckles.
“I think I need more from you to make me all the way better.” He wiggles his brows at you and sends you a wink.
“What more do you need?” you lean forward and peck his lips, but you linger in his space. He smiles against your mouth and kisses you again.
“I think my hallucinations were actually visions of the future.”
You tilt your head, trying to remember what his text said about hallucinations when realization hits you.
“You need my lips wrapped around your cock?”
“I think that’s the ultimate cure.” He kisses you again, “Don’t you think?”
“You’re so needy.” Your lips move over his sensually, your tongue making its way into his mouth. He whimpers into your mouth when he feels your hand grab a hold of his hardening member. He pulls away from you and smiles softly.
“I’ll always need you.”
#bts#bts fluff#bts smut#jeon jeongkook#jungkook x reader#jungkook fluff#jungkook smut#always you drabbles
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Gilded: Chapter 1: To Bride or Not to Bride
Mob! Steve x Reader
Summary: Your life is a mess and you need a little help from time to time. But, when somebody proposes a plan to rid you of all your problems all the way to the far future, you’re suddenly not so sure it is worth it. Especially since the plan is proposed to you by the most notorious gangster America has seen since Al Capone: Steve fucking Rogers.
Warnings: mafia AU, swearing (like, a lot this time), angst, struggles with money, loan-shark, sleazy men, harassing
Word Count: 7969
A/N: It’s finally here! It only took me around 6 months to bring it, and I apologise for the delay, but I hope I will make up for it with introductory this chapter :) Share your thoughts, let me know what you thought and what do you think will happen next :) xx
Series Masterlist __ Masterlist
“Just, wait a second,” you said, your brows knitting together as you tried to piece together all the information the man in front of you had just given you. He was gorgeous, there was no question about that, but that wasn’t the issue here. There were many gorgeous people in New York, and you didn’t marry any of them. Yet, that was.
“You want to marry me. But you still haven’t told me why, so?” You asked for what felt like the hundredth time that evening, and the man just smirked again, playing with his cuffs, never answering to your satisfaction.
“I told you, honey, what I want, I get, and I decided that I wanted you, so, what is going to be? Are you gonna be a good girl for me or am I gonna have to force you, hm?” He smiled sweetly, but even you knew better. Behind that oh-very-sweet smile, there was venom and a ton of it. You rubbed your temples and plopped down on the nice-looking couch, thinking about what he was proposing.
2 weeks ago
“Coming!” You yelled through the loud music at the guests seated by the table number 5 where a group of guys was seated, hollering at you every two seconds as if you didn’t hear them the first time. You rolled your eyes at your colleague, who just laughed under her breath as you strode towards the clients. You put on your best fake smile as you approached them, and from the whistles, you assumed they appreciated it.
“Thank God you came, sweets. We thought you were getting tired of us,” the loudest of them laughed, and the group followed his suit, making your clench your jaw even more. Oh, how you hated this type of men, who had nothing better to do than calling a woman pet-names, making her feel uncomfortable just so his friends could have a laugh and a story to tell.
“What can I get you, gentleman? Another round of the same?” You asked as sweetly as you could, but it was getting harder by the second as they all eyed you like a piece of raw meat, ready to be devoured.
“I mean, that would be nice, and could you serve us a piece of that sweet ass of course as well? We’d really appreciate it, pretty face,” the loud guy smirked sleazily, and you fought the urge to vomit in your face. One of the guys made the mistake of actually making a move to swat you across your butt, but your reflexes were quicker.
You took a step back and breathed in, trying to calm your beating heart. This was, however, nothing new in your line of work, and you just learned to ignore it, or, at best, politely turn them down. Because, as you learned very early on, the manager didn’t appreciate if his “girls” were nasty to his customers. He almost made it sound like you were to provide your bodies with the beers, but you told him straightforwardly that that wouldn’t happen, and if his pub was one of these, you wanted to have nothing to do with it. All you were there to do was to work the evening and night shift to get some extra money on top of your regular job, and that was it. He even made a few remarks how he wanted you all to himself, but you politely declined every time and just tried to ignore it altogether.
“This ass is not for sale, I’m sorry, boys. But, the vodka shots are coming right up,” you tried to give them your best wink but didn’t wait long enough to see if they accepted their loss or not. You genuinely didn’t care.
The night continued in a similar manner, some people being inappropriate and you just ignoring their behaviour, and some people actually nice, even leaving you a few tips which always made you smile. You were beat when it was 11, and your shift ended, and you were thrilled today wasn’t one of those days when you had to stay there till 4 AM. It was then that people got really disgusting and you even had to resolve to hit a guy this one time because otherwise, you were pretty sure he’d manage to rape you. You sighed at the memory as you continued on your way home, just now remembering you left the tips meant for you in your locker.
Sighing you turned around and walked back towards the bar, and when you were in, you noticed three men in black suits talking to your coworker, who looked stunned and scared at the same time. You cocked a brow at her, and she discreetly shook her head, telling you that you shouldn’t come nearer.
This time, you really frowned and looked around, but the rest of the pub looked exactly the way you left it, even with the assholes by the fifth table. But you listened to her and took a step back to one of the dark corners, watching what was going on by the bar. It didn’t take long, definitely not longer than 5 minutes before the men turned around and left the building.
Your coworker looked positively alarmed by now, and you almost ran to her to ask what the fuck did just happen.
“I have no idea, Y/N. I noticed them by table 10 like an hour ago, but I didn’t pay them any attention because that was Christy’s sector tonight and I had the veranda. And when you left they just came here asking about you,” she breathed out, and it was your turn to look alarmed.
“The fuck? Why would they ask about me when it was Christy who took care of them?” You screeched, your brain not really comprehending the situation.
“I have no fucking idea, Y/N. But, like, they asked your name and stuff, and like, if you were a regular waitress here or what. I didn’t want to tell them anything, I swear, but they didn’t take no for an answer. So I just told them your first name, I wouldn’t budge on your last, I promise, and told them that you sometimes worked here but that I didn’t know when was your next shift,” she finished, a little scared of your reaction now, but from the look of those guys, you knew they were bad news and that Anja did the best she could.
“Nah, it’s ok, An. I would do the same. I’m really grateful that you didn’t give them my last name, though, that was really thoughtful of you,” you smiled at her, and it obviously put her at ease as she hugged and hurried back to the veranda, where you both saw a few guests waving that they needed a refill.
The hell did just happen, and why would three mysterious men ask about you?
It couldn’t be that they found out, right? No… you made sure all the traces were hidden, forever, so, that wasn’t an option.
No, you told yourself, there must be another reason for them to ask about you. But you didn’t want to find out. It was a one-time thing, these men were just confused, or one of them liked you or something like that, and you would never see them again. This actually calmed you down enough to start functioning again, and you remembered that you came for something specific, took the money and went straight home.
“This can’t be happening,” you muttered as you looked over your bills. There was so much to pay and so little money on your account that you actually started to sweat. You worked two jobs and still wasn’t able to afford to live a life where you didn’t have to worry about money. What was more, with the high taxes, your rent, subway card and food you went into red numbers, and that was something you definitely didn’t want. Nobody told you that as an Arts Major, you could still be struggling to stay alive in the city of New York.
You went over the bills again even though you knew your math was correct and that you didn’t have enough to pay your landlord this month.
Fuck, you muttered again and considered your options. You could ask your friends, but you didn’t want to bother them since you knew they were struggling as much as you were. You shared your apartment with two of your best friends who you considered a family by now, Caroline and Aidan. And while you knew they would do anything to help you, neither of their jobs paid enough to be able to help you as much as you needed this month.
Your other option was asking your landlord to give you some more time before more money arrived, but just imagining the conversation gave you goosebumps because you could picture the kind of service he’d want from you, and you’d literally rather go and beg on the street than to sleep with that middle-aged pig.
So, as you summarised it, the only option remained the loan shark. Tony was actually a nice guy, once you got to know him, and he was nice to you because you always paid precisely what he told you to when he told you to, and never asked too many questions or begged for more time. You were smarter than that, and, besides, you’ve seen too many movies with loan sharks to know what could happen to you.
The first time you went to him was probably 2 years ago, straight from university when you still thought you could make it big in New York. Well, safe to say that you didn’t make it, and while you remained hopeful, you had bigger problems than becoming a renown painter, like not starving to death and other fun stuff like that.
You were awfully scared to go to Tony, he had a reputation of being kind of an ass, but people also said that, compared to the other guys in the business, he actually had the fairest demands, and as you had no other choice, you just went to him. And because life was a bitch, you ended up going there on more occasions. Tony was kind enough always to lend even small amounts of money because you really didn’t need 100K. No, you always need like 1 or 2 thousand, and while the other loan sharks turned people like you down, Tony didn’t, and he never wanted more than like 400$ as a return, which seemed quite fair as the other guys always wanted 100% or more.
Well, Tony, it was, as you sighed looking around your room, thinking how you even got where you were. But there was no time to waste pitying yourself, and so you shot Tony a quick message, as you always did, and to no surprise, he was very quick to respond that you should come by later that afternoon.
You were just getting ready when Aidan burst through your door. He stopped mid-step, looking at you confusedly because you didn’t tell him you were going somewhere.
“Got a date or what? You never go out on Saturday afternoon, not if you can help it,” he said sceptically, looking around the room as his eyes landed on the fumbled papers on your table, and the look of realisation hit him.
“You going to Tony again? Y/N, we told you, we can help you, babe! Let us help just this once, please?” He pleaded with you even though he knew it was useless.
“C’mon, babe, you know you and Caroline are not making much either, and you’re both glad to get by another month. Tony is like an old friend by now, really. I don’t mind it that much, and it’s definitely a better option than burying you two with me under this pile of shit,” you huffed as you finished applying mascara, but you didn’t even check yourself in the mirror, really not caring that much how you looked. You went to Manhattan just to meet Tony and would go straight back, quick mission, in and out.
“You need to find a better job, Y/N,” Aidan smirked at you, and you just laughed because you both knew it was pretty much impossible, especially since you loved your day job with the only issue that it paid like shit.
“You know this is my chance to be close to art and I really want it. I mean, it could happen that they promote me from being a receptionist to like, I dunno, being a secretary to one of the curators of the gallery, right?”
He just huffed and kissed the top of your head, striding towards the door. It was only then that you noticed he was dressed to go out as well.
“And where are you going, mister?” You asked with a mother-like tone, and he just laughed, turning around as if he was caught in the act.
“So, you remember John?” He asked, sitting on your bed, and you actually laughed out loud at him.
“Which one? I mean, there has been so many Johns and Peters that I swear to God I’m starting to think there are only men called John and Peter in the whole fucking New York. So, more info, babe, please,” you scooted to him and listened to which John it actually was he was meeting and was pretty excited about this. This was John the Ballet dancer, and he looked really nice, so far.
John the Fake Mobster was a lying bastard, John the Hairdresser wanted Aidan for just that one thing but would never admit it, and then you didn’t even have John-the for the guys because they were all just idiots who didn’t see your best friend for what he was: an amazing, although a little extra person with a very good heart, great sense of humour and amazing hair.
“Alright, well, you know the drill. Keep your phone on data so we can use Find your Friend if needed, keep your eyes open for anything sketchy going on, but, most importantly, enjoy yourself, babe. I’ll see you tonight,” you hugged him tightly and walked out of the apartment and into the busy streets.
If it were all up to you, you’d live in a secluded place, somewhere in the north probably, like outside Seattle, where you’d have a lovely little house, maybe by a river or by the ocean or something, where you’d have enough inspiration for your art and where you wouldn’t be annoyed by the little things, like the car horns blaring all the way to the night, people shouting underneath your bedroom’s window, and little things like that.
But life was not a factory for fulfilled wishes, and you had to endure another day trying to make it in New York. You thought about all of this as you walked down the street to where you knew you could find Tony. You weren’t happy that you had to go to him, again, but you also knew that you didn’t need to worry anymore. You would have the money for your landlord by the end of the week, and when the gallery paid you, you would pay Tony back. Again.
“If it isn’t my favourite girl!” You heard a familiar voice hollering from the shop, and you laughed lightly as you walked into the pawnshop Tony had set up in the lower Manhattan.
“Hello to you too, Tony. Today a yellow day, or what?” You greeted him as you looked at his outfit, which was just a canary yellow tracksuit and a matching hat. He looked like a character from a bad movie, but you knew better than to say anything like that.
“Yellow is very classy and trendy, thank you very much! Yesterday I wore this really nice green velvet tracksuit, and you should have seen some ladies walking by, they almost ate me with their eyes! I swear!” He added as he saw you stifling a laugh, but you just nodded in fake understanding, and both of you shared a relaxed laugh.
“So, what can I do for you today, sweetheart?” He drawled, and you shuffled on the spot, always feeling slightly uncomfortable when it came to this part.
“I need a thousand this week. Ton. I’ve been working my ass off, but the bills keep building up, and every time I think I’m out of it and I can live normally, there is always something holding me back,” you sighed, scratching your arms which was a nervous habit of yours that Tony grew quite fond of.
He was almost sorry for saying the next thing, but this was way above his pay grade, and while he really did take some liking to you, and he would always give you enough time to pay him off, he knew who he couldn’t piss off.
“Listen, Y/N, I have a proposal for you,” Tony started, and you frowned, not really knowing where this was going, but from the look on Tony’s face, you could tell it was nothing good.
“There is somebody who would like to get to know you, and he has a proposal for you that he believes you can’t refuse. I don’t know any specifics, I just know he is willing to pay you a lot of money, and I’m talking thousands and thousands, Y/N. He said that nothing sexual would be involved because I told him that if he was looking for a one night stand, you weren’t his girl, but he assured me that this wasn’t it. He would like to meet with you and tell you all the details if you let him. And before you say no, Y/N, think about it. All you gotta do now is to meet him and listen to him, and he is one of those guys who don’t take no for an answer,” Tony finished, and while you saw it pained him to give you the message, you were too stunned to care.
“What the hell are you talking about, Tony? Is this some kind of a sick joke? Like, did this guy tell you he wanted to talk to me specifically or just a girl desperate enough to come here?” You blurted, still not getting what he was about.
“He asked for you, sweetie. I don’t know how, but he knew you’d come and told me when you did to give you the message and give you his address. Which is here,” he said, handing you a piece of paper with an address and a date with the time written on it, “and he told me that if you came and agreed to his plan, you wouldn’t have to worry about money this week or any other week. It could be your chance, Y/N. Look, the guy is extremely powerful, so, please, just go and meet him, and you’ll see, ok?” He was scared, and it made you scoff out loud.
Great, so a loan shark was giving you a message to meet some mysterious, powerful asshole who wouldn’t take no for an answer and who probably stalked you as he knew you would be coming to Tony sooner or later. Just great, really.
“It seems I don’t really have a choice, do I? Sheesh, Tony, at least tell me who this guy is and like how scared I should be. You gotta give me something because I can’t just go to some random house and be totally ok with it. Nobody can’t expect me to do so,” you pointed out, and Tony nodded in understanding.
“Totally, yeah. I even asked if I should come with you, but I was told you should be alone. You should be alert, let’s put it that way. If I were you, I’d really think before I speak, because this guy doesn’t take anything lightly. And I think it would be best if you didn’t know his name, Y/N. Just… he doesn’t want to hurt you, all he wants to do is speak to you, so please, just do it,” Tony finished just as some customer came into the shop.
You waited patiently because the conversation was far from over, but you knew better than to start shit in front of some stranger. Tony was evidently scared shitless of the guy, and it only fuelled your already growing anxiety. Tony was determined not to share too much information with you, but you didn’t understand why. Why could you not at least know the guy’s name? Who could it be?
Your brain took a detour to a few nights ago back at the pub where you saw the men asking about you, and a cold sweat broke on your skin. It must have been connected, there was no doubt in your mind about that, and it filled you with so much dread you actually had to catch your right hand with your left to stop yourself from shaking violently.
The doorbell rang signalling the customer left, and your eyes gazed at Tony, who was already staring at you apologetically.
“And what about the money, Tony? It’s Saturday, and I need to pay my rent by Friday next week. Nice of the guy, whoever the fuck he is, that he wants to see me, but he won’t if I’m on a fucking street next weekend,” you seethed, and Tony was quick to walk around the counter behind which he was standing this whole time and walked closer to you.
“He wants to see you on Wednesday, Y/N, and he specifically told me not to lend you any money, that he would take care of it. Whatever the fuck it means.”
“The fuck? I don’t even know his fucking name, and he will stop me from getting money to survive? What the actual hell, Tony? You can’t be serious right now,” you cried out in utter desperation because none of this was supposed to happen. You were supposed to come, chat a little with the goatee man, get the money and walk back home, where you’d watch some stupid TV show and drink shitty wine.
But no, of all the people living in New York this shit must be happening to you. As you didn’t have enough on your fucking plate as was, some mysterious fucker had to be interested in you for whatever reason, and he wouldn’t let you live without talking to him first.
“Can’t you just call him and tell him that I want to have nothing to do with him?” You asked when you felt calm enough to talk again. You didn’t even know whether you were scared or desperate or angry, but at best, you were feeling a mix of all these and some more, that was for sure.
“No can do, sweetie, but I promise it will be alright, ok? You’re a strong one, I know that and whatever he wants from you, you can either give or can talk to him,” Tony smiled sweetly, and while you knew he was full of bullshit you let it slide because you just didn’t have it in you to fight with him when he was clearly just the messenger. Whoever wanted to speak to you, however, he would hear it from you because where were we that a guy just asks for a girl and the whole of New York delivers her to him on a silver platter?
Wednesday
“You gotta be kidding me, Y/N. Are you seriously considering going there? For all you know it might be some elaborate trap and somebody’s gonna jump you and kill you in some dark alley,” Caroline screeched at you as she saw you getting ready after you came home from work.
You had to ask for a night off from the pub since mister nobody wanted to meet you on your night of work. But you knew you couldn’t say no. Whoever it was, Tony was afraid of him, and Tony was a tough guy. And not that you wouldn’t be brave, but your bravery was mostly concentrated on being able to throw a spider out of the apartment or walk the corridor with the lights out, not really crossing some powerful guy who could do God-knows-what to you if you didn’t come.
“C’mon, guys. You know I gotta do it. And I honestly think if they wanted to kill me, they would have already done it,” you muttered, trying to pick something to wear, that wasn’t too revealing, but you also didn’t want to go wherever you were going in a pair of baggy sweatpants you were currently rocking.
“But like, what if they want to make a personal slave out of you, huh? Like, cuff you to a ceiling and serve them with your body, like a personal kind of slave, you know what I mean? You were not made to be strapped to a ceiling, babe,” Aidan panicked, and you actually had to laugh.
“Your imagination never ceases to astonish me, Aid. Or are you speaking from personal experience?” You smirked as both you and Caroline laughed out loud at Aidan’s expression of utter disgust.
“You two are disgusting, and I hate you, but that doesn’t change the fact you still don’t know where the fuck you’re going,” Aidan countered and you rolled your eyes at him.
“I’ll keep my data on so you can see me this whole time, and if I don’t call you by 9 PM you can send the cops there, deal?”
They both nodded in agreement, knowing this was the best they were getting. You were glad you had them in your life and that you had people caring enough to try and stop you from doing something stupid, but something in your told you that your life would be even worse if you didn’t go. At least this way you’d know the whole story, and you would be able to make an educated decision based on all the variables.
“A’ight, but if anything sketchy happens, you run, ok? We can figure out the money, but we can’t figure out shit if you’re not here with us,” Caroline reminded you, and you nodded solemnly.
God, you just hoped you weren’t making a mistake by listening to Tony. He even shot you a message in the afternoon, reminding you to go there because if you didn’t, it could end up badly for both of you. And it was actually one of the decisive arguments in the whole thing, surprisingly. You didn’t want anything happening to Tony, especially not because of you and your decisions, and so you just told yourself to suck it and prepared for the evening.
You really couldn’t afford the cab, so you had to leave super early to be at the given address at precisely 7 PM. You also grabbed the book you were currently reading, Kim Stanley Robinson’s New York 2140, so that the ride to Manhattan wouldn’t be as dull and dreadful. You could think of the utopian future he depicts rather than thinking of your journey to the lion’s den, and that was the most promising image you created in your head about the place where you were headed.
Not that you didn’t try to find the place on Google maps, but all the buildings on the address looked the same, and, actually, quite nice, so you had no idea what you were getting yourself into.
Meanwhile, Tony texted you again since you didn’t reply to his previous text, and this time you took the time to craft a message telling him that yes, you were indeed headed to the manor and he didn’t need to worry about his own neck because you wouldn’t let others be hurt because of your incompetence or your cowardice.
You knew you were getting off on Chambers St station and you actually took the time to think how many people living in Tribeca had to take the subway. The answer was, very obviously, zero, as the majority of the people in the subway were either passing or were clothed in a way you knew they worked in either one of the restaurants there or as a help. And you felt like one of them, because you too didn’t live in the wealthiest village in New York, and you too were going there mainly for business. Well, at least you hope you did.
Checking every house number when you got to the street you were supposed to meet the mysterious guy at, you tried to find where exactly was the bat cave, and when you saw the number 112, you knew you found it.
Your breath came in ragged huffs as you tried to gather the last remnants of your bravery as you walked up the stairs and buzzed on the door. Your head was spinning lightly, and you actually had to lean against the wall beside you to regain your composure.
The door soon revealed a massive man dressed in a black turtleneck and a pair of black jeans, and you were actually quite surprised not to see him with sunglasses and an earpiece. If the situation weren’t so tense, you’d probably joke about it, but as it was, you just followed his lead as he beckoned you inside.
“Miss Y/L/N, I presume? I need to see your phone and your belongings, ma’am,” he stated, and you raised a brow at him.
“Excuse me?”
“It’s a standard procedure, ma’am. Everybody here to see the boss needs to be checked, just in case,” he stated, leaving no room for discussion, and while you sighed exasperatedly, you still handed him your bag and made a point by fishing out the phone and shoving it in his outstretched hand. He took a quick look through your belongings, pushing it against what you assumed was some kind of a metal detector before he pulled out another device. This looked like a big phone, and he scanned your bag once again.
“What is that?” You asked, unable to stop your curiosity.
“Checking if you’re not bugged,” he answered matter-of-factly as he continued before he put the device down, clearly not finding anything. Where would you even get a bug, and why would you do it? You rolled your eyes inwardly but kept a straight face in front of the man, just in case he was watching. Which he was, as you found out by him waving in front of your face and showing you to follow him.
You braced yourself for whatever was awaiting upstairs and obediently walked behind him.
As you walked through the house, you got the impression that whoever lived there was wealthy, but that kind that didn’t really put on a flashy show. There were no chandeliers, no heavy curtains and stuff you pretty much imagined this place would look like and that image had nothing to do with the Beast and the Beauty dance room, nothing at all.
But this was… modest. Everything was very contemporary, some prominent brick here and there with mostly grey floors and the furniture was most definitely customary but, again, it was plain yet luxurious. You assumed that’s how the really rich people lived. They knew they had the money, and the people around them knew it as well, so there was no need for diamond stairs and a golden toilet.
A few names surged from memory as you heard your coworkers discuss the wealthy New Yorkers, but you didn’t want to assume anything before you actually saw the person, so you just walked by the halls before the man stopped in front one of the rooms and quietly knocked.
It was not surprising when another man dressed exactly like the guy leading you appeared from the room and took a quick look at you before he said something to whoever was behind him. When the affirmative came that you could indeed go in there, they shoved the door open and what you assumed was a living room appeared in front of you. It corresponded with the whole house, but your attention was caught by one specific thing. Your brain had its own world, and when you saw one of Tunji Adeniyi-Jones’s paintings from his last year’s exhibit, you almost fainted. He was your favourite contemporary artist. And seeing his work outside of the gallery was practically an otherworldly feeling. You gaped at the beautiful play of colours, and your heart swooned at the perfection of the brush strokes.
“Ehm,” you heard somebody cough beside you, and it startled you so much you actually jumped to the side, your hand flying to your chest in a feeble attempt to will your heart to stay calm.
You took the intruder in and found out that unlike every other man in the room (and there were a few, as you noticed) this guy wasn’t wearing all-black attire. He was in a comfortable-looking creme sweater and a pair of dark blue jeans, everything fitting him as if the clothes were sawn to his body.
Which, as far as you could tell, was the body of a Greek God.
“See something you like, honey?” The man interrupted thoughts, and it just crossed your mind that he was really rude, not letting you breathe even for a second before he had to make his presence known.
“Yes, actually. I’m quite a big fan of the artist whose painting you have there, so I admired that. And you are?” You trailed at the end, signalling that while he was very handsome, you had no idea who he was and why it was that you needed to come to him this evening.
“Straight to business, huh? I like that. I’m quite surprised Tony didn’t tell you who I was. Was he scared you wouldn’t have come if you knew?” He didn’t wait for your answer, however. “Well, honey, I’m Steve Rogers, and I am very pleased to meet you,” he smirked at your stomach dropped.
Steve Rogers? That Steve Rogers? It wasn’t possible.
“You gotta be kidding me,” you muttered as you scratched your arms nervously.
“Oh no, on the contrary. I’m all too real, Miss Y/L/N, and from the looks of it, I’m glad Tony didn’t tell you, you look like you might faint. Are you feeling alright?” He asked like the smug asshole he was, and you just turned away from him, taking a deep breath before you finally turned back around to face him with a pokerface.
“I’m alright, thank you. So now, can I know what it is you want from me so much you stalked me and made me come here, pretty much by force?”
He scoffed but showed you to follow him to the sofa. When you didn’t budge, he simply took you by your elbow and pretty much shoved you down to the plump sofa.
“Force, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I simply asked you to come visit me, is it so wrong? But yes, you are right, we should talk about why I invited you here. You see, Y/N, I’m in need of a wife, and after long calculations, I came to the conclusion you would be perfect for the job,” he said straightforwardly, and it was now that you felt like you’d faint.
“Marry me? Are you fucking insane?” You couldn’t hold it in any longer. Form the pissed off expression on his face, you could see it was not the right move, but he couldn’t expect any other reaction, really.
“Easy, honey or I might have to use the said force to shut that smart mouth of yours,” Steve mumbled dangerously, and you swallowed harshly.
“Right, you’re a notorious mobster, and I’m literally nobody, and if you killed me, nobody would miss me. Good, now that’s out of the table, why do you want to marry me? And what does it mean you are in need of a wife? I mean… you are notorious for dating a different girl every week, can’t you just marry one of them if you’re in such a great hurry?”
“No, honey, I can’t. All you need to know right now is my proposal. So, here it is. You will marry me, we will stay married for a year and then get a divorce. You will have everything every girl ever wanted: loads of clothes, all the time in the world to do whatever the fuck you want, you won’t have to work, and I will pay for everything and more. You will live here so you won’t have to worry about your rent money, and I will also pay your student loan, on top of which you will be paid 20.000$ every month for playing your role. And when the year is over, you will walk away rich, without any debts slowing you down and you will be able to do anything you want. How does that sound?”
“It sounds like it’s not a proposal but a directive,” you smiled sweetly and stood up, pacing the room and scratching your hands like crazy. This was not happening, no, no, no!
You needed the money, you really did, and getting rid of the debt from your student loan that would have been sweet too, but at what price? On the other hand, you thought, how bad could it be to just be somebody’s wife for a year? He did make it sound pretty easy.
“What would be expected of me?”
“Well, you would go with me to every event and pretty much listen to everything I say,” he shrugged as if it was the most natural thing to say to another human being.
“Like, you’d ask me to spread my legs for you here, and I would do it?” You asked, suddenly very angry that the man just assumed what kind of a person you were. You were desperate, but not that desperate.
“Oh, no, honey. That is one of the reasons why I chose you: I’m not attracted to you, so no, I wouldn’t ask you for any sexual favours. We could even put that to our contract if you’d feel better, but, really, you have nothing to worry from me,” he again said with ease, and you didn’t know if you were glad he just told you this or really pissed and ashamed.
Not that you thought you were some kind of a beauty, far from it, but he also didn’t have to be so upfront about it. And now you understood it even less why the hell he chose you.
“Just, wait a second,” you said, your brows knitting together as you tried to piece together all the information the man in front of you had just given you. He was gorgeous, there was no question about that, but that wasn’t the issue here. There were many gorgeous people in New York, and you didn’t marry any of them. Yet, that was.
“You want to marry me. But you still haven’t told me why, so?” You asked for like the hundredth time that evening, and the man just smirked again, playing with his cuffs, never answering to your satisfaction.
“Honey, what I want, I get, and I decided that I wanted you, so, what is going to be? Are you gonna be a good girl for me or am I gonna have to force you, hm?” He smiled sweetly, but even you knew better. Behind that oh-very-sweet smile, there was venom and a ton of it. You rubbed your temples and plopped down on the nice-looking couch, thinking about what he was proposing.
“Then why choosing me if you don’t find me attractive? Not that it’s an issue, I’m just really trying to understand the situation here,” you said, totally ignoring the threat in his voice as you needed some much valuable answers.
“Right, well, first of all, as I already mentioned, what I want, I get, honey, and you should always remember that. Secondly, it was your ability to keep a straight face, even though I can see the ability is not endless. I need somebody who will be sickly sweet to both my friends and enemies alike, who won’t mind a few sleazy comments from the old fuckers, and who will look like an obedient wife. I need somebody who will blend in and who will look trustworthy, and not like she was to stay only for a week. And when I saw you in that pub where you used to work, I could see you had what it took to be in this life, even if only for a year,” he finished, and you were glad you were right at least about the guy, Steve, also sending the people to sniff around your workplace. But then it hit you.
“Where I used to work? I still work there,” you said dumbfounded, and Steve chuckled humorously.
“Oh no, you don’t. You see, I need my wife free all the time and I need her here with me. Look, Y/N, this is getting tiring, and I really need an answer now. What is it gonna be, huh?”
“Like I even have a choice. You just said you would use force if I said no, so, what am I supposed to say, huh? I don’t want to get married, but I don’t have any money and your snoopy ass is getting in the way of my life, and you ended one of my jobs, and before you say you terminated my contract in the gallery, please think about it again. That job is very important to me, it has always been my dream to be in a gallery surrounded by beautiful art, and, by chance, having my art there as well.
I don’t know Steve, your offer is very generous, it really is, but I don’t think I’m the right one,” you sighed finally and looked around the room, ignoring the boring looks from Steve. Then you saw the clock and you almost panicked, it was two minutes before 9.
“Oh my God, I need to call my friends, or they’re gonna call the cops,” you said quickly already dialling Caroline’s number. You told her you were fine and that no, you weren’t a personal slave yet, but that you’d tell them everything when you got home. When the call ended, the venom was back in Steve’s eyes.
“If you think you can talk to people about anything I have just said, you are terribly wrong, doll,” he seethed, and you were taken aback, but you didn’t want him to think he intimidated you.
“Well, if you think I’m not gonna tell my family about this, then it’s you who is terribly wrong, Steve. We tell each other everything, and if I considered this proposal of yours, it would mean Aidan and Caroline would know about this, at least that I’m marrying you for more than my undying love for you,” you spat back, and Steve saw the determination in your eyes. He knew he had to compromise with you, even if only a little bit.
He already found out everything about you, he knew your whole life, your past, everything his people could find on the internet. And what he got from the search was that you and the people you lived with were extremely close. He considered getting rid of them but realised it would only push you away from what he needed from you. And he needed a wife ASAP.
The mafia was still very conservative, and as he was the only boss without a constant woman by his side, he was sometimes excluded from important meetings that happened on “family retreats.” And he needed all the info there was if he wanted to be the best of the best. Or, the worst of the worst, if we were being literal.
“Fine, but they will need to sign a contract saying that they will keep their mouths shut,” Steve smiled back, and you nodded, your head already spinning.
Were you really considering it? But was there any other option? You needed the money, and it would’ve be great if you didn’t have to care about your student loan for the rest of your life. You would see the world, just like you wanted, you would have time for your art, and you would be free after only a year. That didn’t sound that bad. Sure, you’d be affiliated with a known mafia boss, but that was nothing you couldn’t handle. But there was still a question Steve didn’t answer.
“What about my job at the gallery? If you made them fire me and I’m gonna find out tomorrow, I can’t even begin to consider this. I want that job, I want to work at that gallery, Steve.”
“Fucking hell, I could buy you the gallery if you agreed!” He shouted, exasperated that it was taking so long. He really didn’t get it. He was proposing a life in luxury, and he knew that the majority of women in New York would be more than happy to be seen by his side. But you? You had to be difficult and even demand stuff. Fucking hell…
“But whatever, you wanna work there, fine. Whatever, I don’t give a fuck. Do we have a deal or not? I have better things to do with my evening than just bargain with you, honey,” he accentuated the pet name that you already hated.
Well, this wasn’t how you imagined your proposal to go. Not that you were too keen on the whole idea of a marriage, but still, a girl could dream. Yet, here you were, actually considering getting tied up with a mobster for a year just because he offered you enough money and a life that you felt like could be interesting, if only for a year and with a man who blatantly told you he wasn’t interested in you in that way. This was the only reason you didn’t feel as dirty as you expected because you knew he would never touch you and never want you to do something sexual against your will.
You were used to lying through your teeth ever since you were little, your parents made sure you knew how important it was to keep your secret, and dangerous life wasn’t something you only heard of on TV. All this made the decision slightly easier, as you finally made up your mind.
“Fine, but we still have a lot to talk about, Mr Rogers,” you set your jaw and outstretched your hand to shake on it with him.
“Whatever, Mrs Rogers. Consider your rent paid and I’ll see you on Friday when we discuss our matter in greater detail. Now, if you excuse me,” he kissed the top of your hand and walked away.
Well, this would be fun, you told yourself as you watched the man you would soon call your husband walk away from you, and contemplated whether you made the right choice. But your life wasn’t great as was, as much as you tried to fill it with laughter and happiness, and, in a sense, Steve offered you an out, even if only for a little bit.
Here was to nothing, you hollered at yourself in your mind and followed one of the turtleneck-guys out of the manor and into the chilly air of evening New York.
/ Next Chapter >
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For the DIFFERENT POV GAME:
I want Javi’s POV on this whole adorable scene.
Okay, my Queen @quica-quica-quica, I want you to know that I suuuuucked in a huge breath when I saw this Ask, because I was entirely unsure if I could do this. It seemed like a really hard challenge, but FOR YOU I’ll try anything.
I dug in to see what I could do, and of course because I can’t just write succinctly I had to start waaaaaay back in the beginning of the story to get Javier where I needed him for the phone number scene… hope that’s okay!!
Thank you for challenging me this way! This went from scary to amazing in just a few days! I love you so much, my friend!!!
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Coffee Shop Girl (a companion piece to “For Now” told from Javier’s point of view)
Word count: 3000+
Rating: mature, 18+ only
Outline: Javier Peña x “You” (Austin coffee shop barista; cis/het female reader; “blank canvas”/no physical description/no name/no use of “Y/N”)
Warnings: slow-burn; references to previous hiring of sex workers; cigarette smoking; Javier masturbating
Javier Peña felt like he was at loose ends. Not for the first time in his life, but it’s different feeling ‘lost’ as a young man than feeling ‘lost’ when you’re on the wrong side of 40. At least a teenager can still expect their whole life ahead of them. Since leaving the DEA and the fight in Colombia behind, he had been feeling directionless.
Spending some time at his dad’s ranch in Laredo had helped, the way that hard labor and sweat always does. It left him too tired to ruminate, to sink into the blues and feel sorry for himself. He had lined up a teaching job at a university in D.C. but it didn’t start until the fall semester, and Javier wasn’t looking forward to an entire blazing-hot summer on the ranch. So when his friend Bill called from Austin and offered a short contract job doing consulting for one of the state agencies, he jumped at the chance.
Javier landed at Mueller Airport at 2:00 in the afternoon on the second Saturday in June. He made his way out of luggage pickup to the Hertz desk and signed for a rental car. It didn’t take him long to find the apartment complex where Bill had arranged for him to stay. Bill’s coworker’s son had graduated from UT Austin in May, and the lease wasn’t up until August, so everything worked out perfectly. Javi could sublet for the remainder of the summer, and the apartment complex was close enough to the office that he could take the bus, meaning he wouldn’t have to put too many miles on the rental car or pay for parking downtown. A small, blandly furnished one-bedroom apartment near work was perfect. He could make it work for two months, and he had certainly lived in much worse places during his years traveling.
On Monday Javier was introduced around the office and given his portfolio of cases to consult on. He also found out that the coffee in the office was total shit. He had spent too many years drinking government-grade slop at the DEA and other agencies to put up with it now. He wasn’t one to complain, or to order any of the frilly new designer coffee drinks that seemed to be making the rounds among the ladies in the secretarial pool, but he had noticed a coffee shop between here and the bus stop. Some local place, one of those Austin things where they boasted about fair trade and locally roasted beans. If they made a decent cup of black coffee he could splurge, buy a cup on his way into the office each day.
The bus dropped him off at the corner at 7:45, so he could grab a coffee and still be on time to work at 8:00. Punctuality wasn’t always his strong suit, but Javier wanted to at least make a good impression while he was consulting. You never knew who might be a network contact to something good, and he didn’t want to screw Bill over after he had recommended him for the contract.
Tuesday Javier tried the coffee shop and found out that their coffee was not only decent for the price, it was actually good. Wednesday he went back again, this time brushing fingers with the pretty barista by accident. He offered her a “thanks” and then went on his way. Thursday he walked in and stood patiently in line behind two stoner kids trying to make up their minds between breakfast tacos and blueberry muffins. The pretty barista was there again, and she waved him over with a smile, indicating he could skip to the counter and leave the hippie kids in line.
“Black coffee, right?” Her smile actually reached her eyes, and for a moment Javier was very glad for all of the body language and psychology classes he had ever had to sit through. It was nice having a pretty lady smile at you to start your morning, and even better that this one already knew his order. She was quick, he figured, and good at her job if she had his order memorized after only two days as a customer. Not that ‘black coffee, to go’ was a difficult order, but he hadn’t expected to become a regular so quickly.
He smiled and nodded, “That’s right. Thank you.” He looked for a wedding ring and then for a nametag on her black apron, but didn’t see either one. He slid a rumpled $5 bill across the counter, larger than the singles he had paid with the previous two days, but she was nice. “Keep the change.”
He thought he saw her bite her lip as she turned away, and while she was fixing his cup he took a moment to check her out. He wasn’t some kind of pervert who would goose her from over the counter, but from what he could see she was attractive. Hell, most women were attractive to Javier. He suddenly realized it had been a while since he’d gotten laid. His last relationship was years past, and he no longer visited prostitutes regularly. Javier wasn’t a ‘reformed man’ by any means, it was just that that habit had been limited to a specific time and place in his life where he wasn’t stable enough to have a long-term relationship, and it had the added bonus of gathering intelligence.
The barista turned back to him with the cup and when she handed it off their eyes locked and their fingers touched again. He saw her pupils dilate and recognized the little spark that turned over in his own gut. Damn, she really was attractive. But Javier didn’t want to be the kind of lecherous guy who hit on a woman while she was working. Too many men mistook the minimum of customer service friendliness for a sexual invitation. Or worse, like the men who hit on waitresses on purpose since they couldn’t be outright rude to stop them. Javier suppressed a smile and took the cup from her, nodding his thanks.
On Friday when he breezed into the coffee shop he saw the pretty barista smile from behind the counter, and she immediately turned and started pouring his to-go cup. She turned back and gave him the ‘what’s up’ chin nod while holding his cup up. Javier walked up and he slid a few singles across the counter to her.
Javier gave her a warm, “Thanks,” and winked at her. That was at least a harmless bit of flirting, in line with her bright smiles and her friendliness so far. If she liked it, great; and if not, then at least he hadn’t made her uncomfortable by asking for her number or hitting on her directly. When he said, “See you next week,” she smiled that bright smile back. Javier noticed that it again reached her eyes, lighting them up just a bit more than last time. A good sign.
The weekend dragged but Javier filled it up with errands: a run to HEB for groceries and to Highland Mall for a new shirt. If there was the possibility of a date sometime in the next few weeks he at least wanted to wear something other than his work clothes. Saturday night he ordered pizza and watched a movie on TV, some lame action movie with giant muscled guys shooting way too many bullets, and of course all the curse words and a sex scene edited out for network TV. Can’t let the kiddies hear the word ‘shit’ while they’re flipping channels, but watching Stallone blow a guy’s head off is good for their growing brains. He finished his pizza and a cigarette and then felt that tug, the loose ends, a little bored.
Javier took a shower and his mind went to the pretty barista, that smile, the sparkly eyes. He thought about those eyes looking up at him through her lashes, or down at him from on top. He wondered what her skin felt like, imagining the rest of her naked, spread out, touching him all over. He felt a little bit creepy touching himself to the thought of her, hoping it didn’t make him a bad person, hoping he would see her again on Monday. But fuck it, he needed the release. Javier came, spurting hot in the steamy shower as he leaned his head on his forearm and groaned into the cold tile wall. He wished he at least knew her name.
Sunday Javier slept in and then did laundry, tidied up the apartment, and took a jog around the neighborhood. He tried to talk himself out of a repeat of Saturday’s shower. It didn’t work.
On Monday Javier lit up as soon as he stepped off the bus. The first week of the consulting gig had gone well, but today was a big meeting and he knew the agency was not going to like his recommendations. He was constantly trying to quit, but at least he had cut back recently. He was down to a pack a day and only one cup of coffee. That had to count for something, right? Maybe his doctor would finally get off his back about that.
He smoked as rapidly as he could on his way to the coffee shop, and stubbed the cigarette out as soon as he reached the big window that overlooked the street corner. He tucked his sunglasses into the top pocket of his blazer and opened the door to the coffee shop.
The pretty barista was smiling, looking right at him and already holding up his cup of coffee like a game show model holding a prize. Javier felt his heart give a little squeeze, and he smiled and winked at her again as he approached the counter.
“You psychic or something? Or am I just that predictable?”
“Both, maybe.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him and gave him a toothy grin.
Javier opened his wallet and saw that his smallest bill was a $10, but he decided not to ask for change back. She was attentive to her customers, she had surprised him by having coffee ready, and she was cute. “Great service, keep the change.”
Her face lit up and she turned to put the money in the register. Javier turned and exited the front door, and then decided to look back through the big plate glass window. She was looking at him, and Javier realized that meant that she had watched him leave. He hoped he wouldn’t have to tip $10 every time to get that look. He lifted his cup, nodded at her, and then made his way to the office.
Tuesday she had his coffee ready again, so he gave her another wink with his smile, and he thought that she purposely put her fingers in a spot to touch his as she handed the cup over. He paid with a $5 bill again, and then thought about her smile and her touch all the way to the office a few blocks north. He didn’t want her to think that the overtipping was him trying to come on to her; it really was nice to have his order ready to go every day.
On Wednesday she had his coffee ready again as soon as he walked in, but Javier supposed that was a testament to the bus schedule more than his own punctuality. This time he paid with singles. But he didn’t want her to think the smaller tip was because of anything wrong with her customer service, so he smiled a little more warmly, turning the charm up as much as he dared without just outright hitting on her. He noticed she was looking again through the glass as he left. But of course the only reason he knew that was because he had looked, too.
On Thursday Javier decided that it wouldn’t hurt to flirt a little more obviously, but to give her an out in case she wasn’t interested. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable or fuck up his supply of good coffee, so he decided to take it a little slow. When he got to the corner he glanced into the window of the coffee shop and saw the pretty barista looking right at him. He took that as a good sign that she might be receptive to his flirting. He opened the door and let someone exit, then walked up to the counter. She pointed at his cup sitting on the counter in front of her, smiling that bright smile.
He arched an eyebrow up. “You trying to get rid of me? In and out so quickly?”
She grinned at him. “Depends on how long you were planning to stay. We close at 1:00 a.m. after open mic tonight. After that you gotta go somewhere else.” That was the most that she’d spoken to him yet. Javier decided to take his chance.
“And what time do you get off, after the morning shift?”
“Depends on who’s asking.” She winked and then bit the inside of her lips, like she had said something she shouldn’t have.
Javier decided to be direct. At least that would give her the chance to say ‘no’ if she wasn’t interested. He locked eyes with her and said, “I am.”
He was relieved to see her flash that big smile, all pretty soft lips and sparkly eyes. “I finish at 1:00, after the lunch rush.”
“Good to know.” He stuck his hand out to shake. “I’m Javier, by the way.” She continued to smile as she gave him her name. When she took his hand she gave a good firm shake, not like one of those women who went limp as soon as they shook a man’s hand. Javier liked her even more.
He fished a few bills out of his wallet. “Can I maybe stop by after your shift, take you to lunch sometime?”
“You can do me one better than that.” She reached down to grip the lid and spun the cup. He saw her name and seven digits scribbled in Sharpie. “My phone number’s on the cup.”
Javier gave her the eyebrows, very much enjoying how direct she was. It was nice to get a clear signal from a pretty lady, instead of having to play guessing games and worry about overstepping. He pursed his lips and nodded in approval.
“You do that for all your customers?”
“Just the best tippers.” And there was her pretty smile and her wink again, so soon after the first one.
Javier decided to give her both barrels. He put his hand out again, palm up instead of a handshake. When she put her hand in his he lifted her knuckles to his lips and pressed a soft kiss, giving her a look from under his eyelashes before he let go.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Javier picked up the cup and left, and gave her a warm smile through the glass as he walked away. As soon as he got to the office he jotted her name and the number on a scrap of paper and tucked it into his wallet. He felt hopeful in a way that he hadn’t for a long time, and he rolled the cup endlessly between his palms while he considered his options. Options. Something he sometimes had taken for granted in life, until those moments where they suddenly ran out.
Javier drained the last of the coffee and then scribbled over her number with a Sharpie before tossing the cup in the trash. No sense in letting her number out into the world where some creep might find it. He smoked his third cigarette of the day out on the plaza and thought about her smile, the brush of her fingers on his, the way she approached him directly. He could use a friend in town, one who wasn’t a guy at the agency or an old college buddy. One who was soft and sweet and might be open to a date… or more. He checked his watch and calculated the hours until 1:00 p.m.
Normally he wouldn’t go back to the coffee shop until tomorrow morning, but it wouldn’t hurt to pop back over there today at the end of her shift, see if she wanted to grab lunch, right? He hoped it wouldn’t scare her off, going back so quickly. He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray by the lobby door and jogged back up to his office, taking the stairs two at a time. He wanted to finish up, get this meeting over with, see if he could get over to the coffee shop before she left. He sat in the meeting, watching the clock hands spin slowly, listening to someone drone on about a budget issue that didn’t impact his work, and which could have been a memo in the first place. He felt his irritation creep up the longer the meeting went on.
Finally the meeting closed and Javier hopped to his feet. He told Bill he was headed to lunch and then jogged back down the stairwell instead of waiting for the elevator. He walked the few blocks to the coffee shop, keeping an eye on his watch. He hoped he wouldn’t miss her.
When he got to the coffee shop he opened the door and let his eyes adjust to the dim light for a moment. And then he saw her, slinging her bag over one shoulder and coming out from behind the counter. Javier smiled.
She stopped a foot away and smiled softly, “Hey.”
Javier realized he was still wearing his sunglasses, no wonder it was so dark. He took them off and slipped them into his blazer pocket. He really hoped she wouldn’t think it was weird, him coming back so soon.
“Hey, I’m glad I caught you. Are you busy, or can I take you to lunch today?”
Her face lit up. Good sign. “No, I’m not busy. I’d love to go.”
She gestured out the big window, “There’s a sandwich place around the corner, and a park we can go sit in.”
Javier felt his face split into a wide grin. “That’s perfect.”
---
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The only tag list I have: @quica-quica-quica @anaaaispunk @justanotherblonde23 @gracie7209 @nicolethered @honestly-shite @driedgreentomatoes @dihra-vesa @1800-fight-me @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul @kesskirata @honeymandos @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @anxiousandboujee @cevvie @sherala007 @writeforfandoms @libellule2001 @deadhumourist @mandoalorian @javierpinme @eri16 @mandocrasis
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Misread Details, Part Two
CW: Described death of whumper, BBU, implications of pet whump, references to noncon, dehumanization, sadistic whumper
Part One: Nanda | Part Two: Brute | Part Three: Robert
The Unsolved Murder of Henry “Brute” Hanlon and the Box Boy Killer
r/LetsTalkTrueCrime
•Posted by u/oshaycanyousee
2 weeks ago
I’m back, r/LetsTalkTrueCrime! I really appreciated the questions and discussion under my last write-up, and a few of you really encouraged me to keep working to provide a part two to my Serial Killer Box Boy series, so here it is!
In Part One, we looked at the mysterious death of Nathaniel “Nanda” Benson, who died of cardiac arrest due to an undiagnosed heart defect (and likely head trauma played a part) and was found at the bottom of the stairs inside his California home. The only valuable possession missing from his property was his legally-purchased Box Boy, who fled the city wearing Nathaniel Benson’s shoes and using his money to buy a bus and then train ticket.
The last confirmed sighting of the runaway Box Boy (and Benson’s possible killer?) was in Red Hills, California, a large-ish city a couple hours south of Benson’s house by train.
Questions remain around Benson’s death: did he suffer cardiac arrest and fall down the stairs? Did the Box Boy push him, with the shock of the trauma and injury leading to the heart attack that killed him?
Is the Box Boy merely a witness to a tragic but natural death, or the prime murder suspect?
And most importantly: If he wasn’t guilty, why did he run?
Less than a full calendar year after Benson’s death, the question of where the Boxie went after Benson died was answered… but even that answer only opened up more questions, and the sudden death of a second man places even more uncertainty into the story of a Boxie who might simply be an innocent victim - or who could be a serial killer whose makes a victim out of those who give him shelter.
Which leads us to the story of Henry James Hanlon, known to nearly everyone - including his wife - as “Brute”.
Henry Hanlon was born in a small town in Texas, but moved to Red Hills, California after finishing a stint in the Air Force.
His parents, James Hanlon and Estella Hanlon, maiden name Brickers, had had their first child, Henry’s older brother William “Bill”, right out of high school, born six months after their wedding day. Henry came three years later, and his sister Roberta “Bobbie” one year after that.
Henry was a perfectly normal, cheerful little boy, always toddling after his older brother and trying to join in the games of the older kids in town. His parents recalled him as the quintessential “middle child”, always resolving disputes and quietly getting things done. He received his nickname of “Brute” in fifth grade, when a classroom bully was harassing a female friend of Henry’s and Henry decided to take action. The only information I could really hunt down on this was some old school records that I found on a message board, and I can’t really verify if they’re real, but they suggest that the bully was sent home injured and Henry received a three-day suspension.
After that, it seems, anyone and everyone - even teachers - called Henry Hanlon “Brute”, and he never seemed to mind.
He received perfectly average grades, enlisted in the Air Force, served without distinction but without any significant incidents, and afterwards he moved out to California, where he settled into Red Hills (then a city with a thriving industrial district that was slowly beginning its slide into something rougher) and took a job with a manufacturing company, working in their warehouse.
“Brute” dated around a bit, but it wasn’t until three years after his move that he met the woman he would marry, Ellen Patricia Barry. She was a few years younger than him, and they met at a local bar that both were known to frequent. One of Brute’s former coworkers told police that Brute was big into pool and poker, both of which he would engage in when he went to the bar, and that he met Ellen during one of the poker nights, and that Brute stated that how easily she beat him was one of the reasons he was interested in her romantically.
Ellen claims they first spoke while playing pool, not poker, and also claims she’s never played poker in her life. Why Brute would have told his coworkers a different story is unclear.
They dated for about a year before they wed at Grace Baptist Church on a sunny summer day in 20XX. Ellen’s father gave her away while Brute’s little sister was the maid of honor. A year later, Brute’s daughter Elizabeth was born, and a couple years after that, their son Daniel.
The Hanlons lived a charmed life - they owned a cute three-bedroom cottage home (bought and given to them by Ellen’s parents as a wedding gift) in a good part of town with a little white fence around the property and a yard big enough for the children and dog to play in. Ellen was part of the local PTA and active in her church, and Brute himself had the appearance of a man totally content with everything he had.
But Brute Hanlon had a secret.
Ellen continued to believe he was employed by the manufacturing company, but he actually left his employment there years before his death. Instead, he seems to have transitioned into making his money “under the table”. Ellen wouldn’t discover any of this until after his body was located… in a secret house he’d never told her about, in one of the roughest parts of Red Hills.
Without her knowledge, Brute purchased a two-bedroom home with cash directly from its previous owner that was badly in need of repair in the Pauls Mill neighborhood. Once a “company town” from the 1930’s - 1950’s that was absorbed into Red Hills as it grew in the 60’s, Pauls Mill today is the kind of neighborhood where everyone knows if you belong there, or don’t, and it’s best if you belong.
Brute performed a few very cursory repairs to keep it livable, laid down some new carpet, and then used it as a kind of secret base for the unsavory activities he didn’t want Ellen or the children to know about.
While his family believed he was at work at the factory, Hanlon was in fact hosting poker games, selling illicit narcotics and unlicensed firearms, and generally making quite a bit more money than he had with legal employment entirely under-the-table. He would spend his day making connections (and money) through these activities, then go home right at 5 pm sharp to his loving family, eat dinner at 6 pm, help his kids with their homework and hear about their day, and settle in for an evening playing the loving husband and doting dad.
Somewhere during this time period, Brute told Ellen he was setting up a “poker night” with his friends again, now that the kids were school-aged.
What he did instead was drive down to the corner of Holt and McCormick streets, known to all locals as the Red Hills “red light district”, and pick up prostitutes, usually simply meeting with them in his car, but occasionally taking them to a nearby motel.
After his body was found, police showed his picture around to a variety of the individuals who make their living at Holt and McCormick, and more than a dozen locals immediately recognized him.
Some described him as a regular customer who wasn’t particularly special or notable beyond the simple fact that he never tried to renege on payment and could be relied on to always be looking for someone on a particular night of the week… but others, almost entirely male, said he could be violent. A few described being injured enough that they had to seek medical treatment after meeting him. The same individuals stated that he insisted on using dehumanizing and insulting language to speak to them during these encounters, and that he was often unable to perform unless he did so.
One individual, who gave his name as “Mix”, mentioned that the last few times Brute had engaged his services, he had brought along a collar and insisted Mix pretend to be a Box Boy.
During this time period, Brute continued to be an active, involved, and loving parent.
He was home right on time every night except “poker night”, attended his chlidrens’ recitals and baseball games on the weekends. He often took them to the Red Hills Zoo, local parks, and even did a weekend trip to Berras to see the Berras Aquarium, stay overnight in a hotel as a family, and then visit a redwoods park before returning home.
Six months before his death, Brute’s visits to the red light district abruptly stopped. Instead, he apparently met with a local prostitute, engaged his services, and took him home… for good.
The best record we have is that one woman, Needie Brandt, remembered seeing Brute leading a shorter, angular young man to his car one night, and described the young man as “one of those runaway Boxies, collar and all. Poor thing was half-starved”.
Runaways, especially Romantics, are picked up by police from time to time in Red Hills. Most Romantics don’t really know any other way to survive, so prostitution is a common way to make ends meet. Needie said the young man had been seen around the area for a couple of weeks, right alongside the rest of the working people in the red light district, and that after this one night she saw Brute Hanlon lead him into the car, she didn’t see him again.
Asked if she remembered a name, Needie only shrugged and said that even if she did, it wouldn’t be a real one. Which is probably a good point.
Somewhere in here, Brute began to date outside of his marriage while his family believed he was out with friends playing poker. He took dancing lessons with one Susan Krieger, had a serious relationship with a Lucy Graham, and was apparently occasionally taking a Natalie Dorn out for dinner.
Ellen was never informed about these out-of-wedlock interests.
Brute’s family knew nothing. When his eldest son went to state with marching band his freshman year of high school, Brute Hanlon was right there cheering him on.
Then, just two days later, he presumably went right back to brutalizing the Box Boy he was keeping in his secret second home.
We don’t have a record of what exactly transpired within the house after Brute took the runaway Box Boy in. What we do know is what the police found later on.
On October 18th, 20XX, around midnight, Ellen Hanlon called police to report her husband missing after he did not return from his regular poker night. His car was located in the parking lot of an abandoned FoodMart, but a friend of Brute’s came forward to say he often parked there and carpooled with friends when going out.
None of Brute’s possessions were inside, and it didn’t appear the car had been touched by anyone but Brute himself when it was dusted for fingerprints or signs of DNA. Brute’s friends who knew about his secret activities weren’t telling, and Ellen and the children didn’t know anything about their seemingly loving husband and father’s double-life.
At first, the trail seemed like it would go cold, and investigators were frustrated that they had so little to go on.
Then, on October 29th, 20XX, Brute’s neighbor (who apparently asked that his name not be given) called the police department complaining about how the small two-bedroom house next door had begun to smell “like something died in there”, and that he hadn’t seen his neighbor leave or return in days, which was very unusual.
When police arrived, the front door was unlocked. Officer William Keys, the first one inside, later described the smell as “unmistakable. I knew exactly what we’d find the second we walked in that door.”
He was right.
What they found was the bloodied and decomposing body of Henry “Brute” Hanlon, lying on his back in the middle of a small unremarkable living room, on a dirty and stained carpet. He had been viciously stabbed more than fifty times. One even went so far into Brute that there was an exit wound through his back. Medical examiners would later state that at least seven of his wounds would have been directly fatal, but that he had died within the first few and most of the wounds were technically post-mortem.
The murder had been committed by someone who had a very personal reason for the killing. Investigators believe this individual was “absolutely enraged”.
Next to his body was the murder weapon, along with a set of buckles and strips of leather that mystified the officers. These were eventually identified as modified leg braces, but rather than straightening bent or injured legs, they forced the wearer to keep their legs at nearly right angles, which would ensure they had to crawl rather than walk. They appeared to be homemade.
Bloodied smears and footprints led the officers down a hallway and to the bathroom, where there was evidence someone had showered, changed clothes, and then left.
The same neighbor who informed police about the smell also remembered seeing, on October 16th or 17th (later determined that it was likely the 17th, the day that Brute did not return home from “work”), a young man wearing an oversized coat, sweatpants, and a too-large t-shirt walk out of Hanlon’s house and down the street. The young man was on the short side, the neighbor said, had an angular face, and a visible scar at the corner of his mouth and another along the side of his face. He had the collar of the coat flipped up, and the neighbor doesn’t recall if he wore a collar or not.
He had dark eyes, and short but shaggy dark hair that seemed to have been cut hurriedly and unevenly, and he waved at Hanlon’s neighbor without pausing or speaking as he walked past.
Tests on fingerprints and DNA located within Brute Hanlon’s secret second home would reveal that the Box Boy who once ran from Nathaniel Benson after his death was the exact same one who ran from Brute Hanlon after murdering him. The Boxie’s fingerprints were all over the murder weapon… and everywhere else, too.
Within Brute’s home, more knives were found, along with what looked like a badly-crafted homemade whip and some other supplies. A few of the things investigators found appeared to be essentially identical to what was found in Nathaniel Benson’s home. Other things were different (“animalization” was mentioned in some of the reports, but what I’ve been able to find is seriously vague for some reason).
Possibly related, a series of dog leashes purchased from a local pet-supply store were found throughout the home, but there was no evidence of an actual dog. In the home’s main bedroom was a perfectly normal queen-sized bed that was clearly Brute’s, with a small side table, a large dresser, and an attached bathroom.
There was absolutely nothing outwardly out of the ordinary, besides the room being very plain and impersonal. Makes sense, since Brute almost never slept there.
In the second bedroom, however, there was army-style cot with a thin blanket and sheet, three folded shirts on the floor, two sets of bloody metal handcuffs hanging off the cot’s frame at the top and bottom, and a bucket next to the bed. Two metal bowls, clearly of a style meant to be a dog’s food and water bowls, were next to the door. One still had water in it. The window was painted and nailed shut, and bars had been installed over the windows.
Investigators determined the bars were on the house when Brute Hanlon purchased it and had been installed by the previous owner. No reason for that installation was ever given.
Investigation revealed trace amounts of evidence of blood, but nothing much. However, the living room and dining area both showed poorly-cleaned bloodstains that were much older than Hanlon’s murder, including discolored patches on the walls.
A contract for a 24/7 “master/slave” style relationship was found in the top drawer of the dresser, signed ‘Pet’ at the bottom, and with Brute’s name alongside it. However, both signatures match Hanlon’s handwriting, and the Boxie is not believed to have actively signed it, as he would be illiterate at best. Plus, Box Boys are not legally allowed to enter into any contract, anyway, since they can’t understand obligations at that level, so even if he had signed it, it wouldn’t have been considered remotely valid.
I mean, not that those contracts are legal, but... you get my point.
Also located in that drawer were more than one hundred photographs showing the Boxie in a variety of compromising situations and positions. Several of these photos had Brute himself clearly visible in them, and a few had other individuals who have since been identified as Brute’s associates in his more illicit activities.
Interrogations of those associates led to more than seven further arrests for illegal gambling, the production and sale of illicit drugs, and illegal weapons sales. Those interrogations are also how we know about what Brute Hanlon was up to in-between Little League games and Girl Scout meetings.
Those associates claim that Brute kept a “secondhand Box Boy”, muzzled him so he couldn’t speak whenever guests were over, and that often ‘poker night’ simply turned into a game where the assorted guests and Brute himself repeatedly assaulted the Boxie. The associates claimed they thought the entire thing was consensual, but frankly… given the overwhelming evidence that the Boxie had to be kept restrained and was often seriously injured by these assaults... that’s doubtful.
Ellen and her children, who had previously been very visible and spoke often to local news stations about Henry’s disappearance, withdrew after his body was found and his second, secret life revealed - and have never given a single public statement or made a public appearance since.
Ellen moved her children out of Red Hills, moving back in with her own parents, briefly, in northern California. Where they went after that is unknown, but they appear to have left the state and Ellen may have changed her surname. Investigators are firm in their belief that Ellen knew nothing about her husband’s secret life.
I would give my right arm to know what his son and daughter think about it, and if they ever suspected what their devoted dad was up to when he wasn’t at home.
So, what happened to the Boxie after he left the house and disappeared down the block from the witness who saw him?
In short… no one knows for sure.
After murdering Brute Hanlon and cleaning off the evidence that must have been all over him, the Boxie simply fades away. He could have been anywhere, doing anything at all. There is a brief sighting of him on CCTV footage at the local bus station, where he is in line to buy a ticket… and then abruptly looks up, apparently noticing the camera and looking directly into it, then turns and walks quickly away.
The footage is grainy, but the Boxie does appear to be wearing his collar.
He isn’t seen in Red Hills again.
Instead, he reappears one more time before his final murder and disappearance… more than a year later, in a little town right along the border with Nevada.
Part 3 will go into how the investigation into the death of a quiet little oddball named Robert Weber reveals a basement full of skeletal bodies. But our Boxie isn’t the cause.
Instead, Robert Weber’s murder solves a series of related murders police had been stymied by for more than a decade, and a Box Boy who may have been meant to be Weber’s next victim instead turned accidental vigilante with a final killing of his own.
Or maybe I should say, his final killing so far.
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Heartbreak (Bakugou x Reader), (Shinsou x Reader) Part 2
The second part to the fic I wrote, this will probably be my last post for another week since I have school to catch up on. Enjoy!
Word Count: 3.4k
Warnings: Angst, a bit more fluff on Shinsou’s end, drinking
Taglist: @sugarandsoft
Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
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It’s three in the morning, and Bakugou can’t sleep.
He’s beyond pissed at himself for staying up this late, but he can’t help it - he’s been in bed since nine and he can’t get you out of his mind. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you since you stormed out of the apartment. He regrets not chasing after you, he loathes himself for being such a dick and he hates himself for even letting his stupid agency dictate his personal life. He wants to tell you so bad that you’re wrong, that beating Deku doesn’t mean a damn thing to him if it means he has to lose you. He wants to hear your voice so bad it hurts. He knows you’ll be going to Shinsou - you always do when you have a bad fight. He knows you’ll be safe there, but he feels like such a fool. He let you walk out in the rain on your own. What a hero he turned out to be.
Bakugou spends the night alternating between flipping through the endless channels on the living room TV and staring at the ceiling. Every time he closes his eyes he sees your face - anger boiling your blood, disbelief painting your features as he fights with you, tears staining your cheeks. He feels sick to his stomach imagining you walking in the cold as you leave the apartment, sniffling as you make your way out in the rain. He wants to call you to explain himself.
But he doesn’t. His pride won’t let him.
It’s his pride that makes him trudge out to bars with Denki, Mina, and Sero the next day after you leave - he needs alcohol in his system to numb himself from the thought of you. Anyone will do if it warms his bed and makes your face disappear for even a second. God, he never thought he would be so hung up on you. He downs beer after beer, dances with woman after woman. Names and faces blur together as a cacophony of voices plays in his head.
He ends up taking someone home that night - he couldn’t remember her even if he tried. He takes her back to the apartment you shared and pushes her onto the bed you shared. He kisses her collarbone and up her neck, but he’s aiming for your favorite spots instead of hers. The image of you overlaps with her, and he sees your figure beneath him instead of some stranger. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s his broken heart playing tricks on him.
He kisses her, imagining it’s your scent he’s breathing in rather than the vanilla and booze she smells of. He pictures your arms wrapping around his neck, your lips on his. She says his name, like honey on her lips, whispers it into his ear. And if he tries hard enough, he can twist her voice in his head to sound like you.
“Katsuki, I love you.” He hears it over and over, sees your smile and hears your laugh. “Katsuki, I love you.”
He makes her leave after that. She’s upset but he is too - an argument ensures and she storms out, leaving behind her underwear in her hurry to leave.
He doesn’t notice. He’s too busy thinking of you.
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It’s been three weeks since your breakup with Bakugou.
The news stations and gossip websites have been flooded with reports of Camie and Katsuki - neither have said anything about their relationship and the speculation of if they are or aren’t a couple is driving everyone wild. Thankfully, the people who were leaving awful comments have long since left you alone, prompting you to turn your Instagram to private and changing your username so they can’t find you easily.
You’ve been avoiding social media like the plague, ignoring all television interviews that involve either Bakugou or Camie - you’ve learned your lesson from the night of the Hero Rankings. But you’re only human after all, and the one time your curiosity got the better of you, you dove into the comments on a tabloid’s website to see what the public was saying.
It doesn’t escape your notice that the comments are much kinder - it ranges from well wishes to remarks about how they wish they could replace Bakugou or Camie in the relationship. No one mentions you, which you are grateful for. You know the media thrives off of drama and rumors, so you’re content to have been forgotten about in this narrative.
Shinsou’s been treating you like normal - another thing you’re grateful for. He is kind without being overbearing, and he gives you distance while also being there for you when you need it. You’ve migrated from sleeping on the couch to crashing in his bed, and more often than not you fall asleep to the smell of his body wash as you lay on his chest.
You wonder what Bakugou would say if he saw you. He knew how close you and Shinsou were and still are, but anyone could think that you and the purple haired man were lovers. Here you are, getting upset at your ex-boyfriend for having a woman over two days after the breakup, when you are falling asleep in the arms of another man - even if he is your best friend. You wonder if that makes you a hypocrite. Your emotions are in chaos, all jumbled and confused. You miss physical intimacy and a part of you wonders if you’re just using Shinsou as a replacement. “It’s better to sift through these feelings when I’m calmer”, you think to yourself, “I’ll come back to it when I’m in a better place.”
Otherwise, you’ve been steadily making your way back to a normal life - work, school, and your personal life all seem to be peaceful and you’re content in a way you hadn’t been for a long time with Bakugou. Of course, the wounds of the breakup are still healing, but you’re doing a lot better from three weeks ago, when you couldn’t even bring yourself to get out of bed. Shinsou has been making sure that you eat properly and that you take care of yourself. Now that you’re out of that post breakup funk, he notices that you’re cheerful and upbeat - a good sign that you’re slowly recovering from your heartbreak.
Today, you’re home alone while Shinsou patrols the city - he’s promised to pick up dinner on his way home so you don’t have to cook. He’s looking forward to tonight - you’ve finished all of your school work for the weekend and you’re off from work until Monday. He’s eager to come home to you, he’s turned down his coworkers invitations to drink so he can spend the weekend with you. He’s picked up food from your favorite Mexican restaurant, and he’s stopped at the grocery store to get your favorite flavor of ice cream - the one that’s almost always sold out.
He arrives home to see you lazing about the house - you’re laying on your back on the couch, holding your pastel Animal Crossing Edition Switch with a bag of chips resting on the table next to you. Your eyebrows are furrowed together as you focus on beating the shit out of a boss in Cuphead - a game you and Shinsou spent hours playing when it came out trying to pass the incredibly difficult levels. You’re wearing Shinsou’s favorite hoodie again - you might as well claim it as your own already you wear it so much - and your fuzzy cat print socks match with a fluffy cat ear headband that keeps your hair out of your face. Your face is recently washed and slightly pink, and he can smell your favorite coconut body wash from where he’s standing. He waits until you lose the stage (let's face it - there’s no way you’re beating that damn clown boss without his help) and he makes his way over to you, leaning over to look down at you as you exhale in annoyance at your loss.
“Hey there, I got dinner. Also nabbed some dessert for you - ready to watch nothing but ghost stories for the rest of the night?” You stretch out your arms and legs, groaning as you move to stand from the couch.
“Only if you promise to sleep next to me until I see sunlight again.” You hate ghost stories - you can handle scary movies about murderers and clowns but you don’t mess with ghosts. The only reason you’re watching tonight is because you know it’s Shinsou’s favorite and he always watches your nature documentaries even though you know deep down he probably doesn’t enjoy them as much as you do. You saunter over to the kitchen, and prop yourself on the counter facing Shinsou as you pull a taco to your mouth. “Ugh, even though the Exorcist was made like 50 years ago it still gives me the creeps. I can’t believe,” you take a moment to drink some water, “that you can watch her crawl backwards down the stairs and not piss your pants.” Shinsou lowly chuckles, giving a teasing smile as he unwraps his burrito.
“It’s ‘cause I’m not a chicken.” You roll your eyes and snort.
“Whatever Mindjack. Not everyone can be as fearless as you.” He smirks as you swing your legs, turning your full attention to the taco you have in front of you. “Hurry up and finish so we can do a facemask before our movie marathon. You didn’t forget about that did you?”
“‘Course not. You wouldn’t let me forget even if I tried, since you’re such a nagger.” You pout, hopping off the counter to wash your hands. Shinsou spends a bit too much time admiring how small you look wearing his hoodie - enveloped in something that belongs to him makes him swell with pride even if it’s wrong of him to think so. He wonders when he started to feel this way towards you, when his love changed from a close friend to an admirer. When he remembers his life, you are always there with him. By his side like a part of his body, always around when important events pass by, always by his side when the going gets tough. It’s not as if he’s always been pining for you - he’s brought other girlfriends around before even if the romance fizzles out before long - but recently he’s noticed you in a different light. Your bedhead and your sleeping face are just as cute to him as when you have your hair done and makeup on. Bringing other men over was never a problem, you’re his best friend and your happiness was always the first priority. But now, he finds himself annoyed at the mere mention of possible partners. You have no shortage of those - you’ve always been able to draw people to you as nerdy as you are - and the green vines of jealousy wrap around his heart every time someone gives you a gift on Valentine’s Day or someone asks you out for a coffee. You usually turn them down since you have so much to focus on, work and school makes you a busy woman after all. But he can’t help but be irritated at the stares you get in public sometimes - as beautiful as you are, you would think that you’d notice the way others look at you. He’s always loved you, but now he feels this once platonic love changing into pure romance, he aches for you like he’s never had before - longing for your touches, your hugs, your feather light kisses on his forehead when he’s having a tough day. The guilt he feels every time he holds you close like he did when you were kids, when you lay your head on his chest and he plays with your hair. To you, it’s still the action of a best friend, but to him it’s something he’d do for a lover. And yet, you’re oblivious, as dense as a rock but he loves that part too. How infuriatingly adorable you are sometimes.
“‘Toooooshi~”, You wave your hand in his face as he comes back to reality. You raise an eyebrow. “Are you okay?”
“Never better.” Your arms cross as you stare at him, suspicious that he’s hiding something from you.
“You ready? I got everything set up.” He nods, and you turn to walk towards his bedroom.
Shinsou’s room is quite neat, a black bed in the corner next to ceiling to floor windows that gives a pretty good view of the city. He scored a good location in spite of his modest salary - he’s in it for the heroism and the good deeds, not the money. He may not make as much as Bakugou, Todoroki, or Deku, but he does alright. His capture weapon and artificial vocal cords mask rest atop his bookshelf, populated with picture books of you and him in your younger days, as well as a Polaroid camera you left with him when he went off to U.A and you stayed in Saitama. Next to the parts of his Hero costume is a picture of you and him on a trip to the beach - one he treasures above all else. In it, he holds you bridal style as you both smile from ear to ear at the camera. You’re practically glowing, wearing a bright yellow bikini set with a see through beach coverup wrapped around your hips, sunglasses resting atop your head. Shinsou recalls how you nagged him to actually swim with you, and you pretty much forced him to wear those green swim shorts - this picture was before he decided to run with you in his arms to the water.
He sees your presence everywhere he looks in his room. After he reassured you that you weren’t a burden, you’ve basically turned his home into your home as well. The bottom half of his bookshelf is claimed as yours - it’s filled with your favorite stories, and your collection of Switch games is stacked next to the shelf neatly. Your laptop rests on his bed (you were no doubt doing homework before you got distracted and started playing Cuphead before he got home) with your Geology textbook open and notebooks filled with notes and highlighted phrases. Your clothes have been hung up in his closet, with your makeup and perfumes taking over three-fourths of his bathroom counter. If anyone else came to visit, they’d think you two were an item.
But alas, you two are not.
You push your schoolwork and computer aside to make room for you and Hitoshi, making your way towards the bathroom to grab a basket of skin care products and face masks. Shinsou knows how much you care about your skin - and by extension his skin - and he watches as you walk from here to there gathering what you need. You turn to him with a huge grin on your face as you hold up a matching cat headband in the color black, something you picked up from the store before you came home last week. He sighs, but turns around anyways to allow you to pull his lavender hair back into a loose ponytail and place the cat headband on his head before turning back to face you.
He looks so silly wearing it, but for you, he’ll do anything. You grab your phone and open the front camera, sticking your tongue out while grabbing Shinsou’s face, squishing his cheeks as he makes an annoyed face at the camera. After taking the photo, you upload it to your now private Instagram and send the picture to Shinsou who does the same. He’s always been a private man, so you don’t worry about the public getting a hold of the photos and trying to make a story out of your life like with Bakugou.
Tossing your phone aside, you motion for Hitoshi to turn towards you, propping yourself up on your knees in front of him as he sits cross legged. You giggle as he looks back at you, reaching to grab a jar of your favorite moisturizer and opening it. The smell is familiar to him - you always smell like it at night when you watch TV while sitting next to him in the living room. You start to apply the product to his face, careful to keep it out of his eyes and mouth. “You need to take better care of your skin ‘Toshi.”
“I know. I’ve been putting sunscreen on like you’ve asked.” He’s not lying, it’s become a part of his routine ever since you suggested it.
“Good. You better be taking the time to eat properly at work too. I know you’re sleeping normally again since I’ve been here, so I won’t lecture you on that.” You glance at his arms, covered in scattered scars from run ins with villains.
Most people look at heroes as an invincible force, unstoppable like All Might. Others may see Mindjack, but you just see Hitoshi Shinsou, your partner in crime.
“Thank you Hitoshi...for everything.” You blurt it out before you can stop yourself.
“I didn’t know this facemask meant so much to you.” You punch him in the shoulder as he laughs.
“‘Toshi, I’m serious. Look at all you’ve done for me. You let me crash here, listen to me complain, make sure I’m okay...without you, I probably would still be lying in bed all depressed.” You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. “I have to say it before I never get the chance to. You may be Mindjack, a hero, but you’re still Hitoshi to me. You do so much for me and you put your life on the line for others every day. I watch you and I’m proud of the boy who proved everyone wrong when they said you had a villain’s quirk. You being here for me after everything with Bakugou and always being there for me growing up makes me realize how much you mean to me. You’re my hero, ‘Toshi. But I need you to stay safe. Look at all your scars...” You pull back from the hug and grab his arms, running your fingers over his scarred skin. You’ve always known Shinsou’s job is dangerous - he’s a hero after all, he saves people. But he’s also your best friend. He’s a selfless man, a kind man.
You love Shinsou. You truly do, he is someone you can never lose. To lose him would be to lose a part of you.
He says nothing in response, so you continue. “Remember that time you fought that villain in the subway? All the news stations said that the tunnel was going to collapse and I just felt like my heart was going to burst. I saw you getting trapped and I felt like…”
You trail off, feeling the familiar sting of tears as you hold them back. Hitoshi gazes at you, lilac eyes boring into your own. “I felt like my whole world was ending. When you came out alright I thought I would faint. I was so scared ‘Toshi… scared you wouldn’t come back. I don’t want to lose you.” Shinsou grabs your cheeks, gently moving his hands so you face him. He wipes a tear from your eye.
“I’ll always come back to you.” You close your eyes, and press your forehead to his.
“You better. I’ll be waiting.”
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Bakugou wants to be anywhere else but here.
He’s at Kirishima’s apartment - he’s been dragged out of his house by Mina and Kaminari for a night of drinking, with Sero and Jirou also coming along for the ride. The blonde would rather be in bed, wallowing in his misery, but his friends won’t let him stay inside. So he pouts in the corner, arms crossed and a permanent scowl painting his features. Kirishima gives him a knowing smile, and mouths “I’m sorry”. Bakugou clicks his tongue and looks away, grabbing his phone in order to distract himself from all the noise.
He would rather die than admit it, but he’s been looking for your Instagram ever since you left. You must’ve unfollowed him or even blocked him - he can’t find a trace of you anywhere. He hates this pathetic side of him, one that makes him seem like a stalker, but he has to know you’re okay. If his pride won’t let him call you, then he needs to know you’re okay.
To his surprise, you pop up on his feed. He immediately inspects the photo of you, and breathes a sigh of relief to see your face. Your tongue is sticking out all playful, beaming as you hold Hitoshi’s face for the photo. You’re wearing that cat headband you always use when washing your face, and he can tell you’re almost ready for bed. He smiles solemnly, vermilion eyes staring at you, so far away.
He notices you’re wearing one of Shinsou’s hoodies and his blood boils at the thought - he knows you are friends but he hates the idea of anyone else having you - although he shouldn’t be one to talk after bringing home that girl from the club. He hates himself for doing it. He stares at your face before standing, saying a curt “I’ll be back” before making his way to the balcony. His friend’s voices fade as he stands outside overlooking the city, and he makes sure the coast is clear before dialing your number.
Fuck his pride. He has to hear your voice.
#bnha x fem!reader#bnha x you#shinsou x reader#bakugou x reader#bnha angst#shinsou x you#bakugou x you#katsuki bakugo x y/n#hitoshi shinso x y/n#mha x reader#my writing
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