#also me wondering why on earth it seems every woman in the show wants to fuck him when i find him so unattractive
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rewatching torchwood after almost a decade
remembering how much I can't stand Owen
#i remember when the dw fandom was more active and i just recall everyone loving owen#meanwhile my blood pressure rises anytime he's onscreen lmao#also me wondering why on earth it seems every woman in the show wants to fuck him when i find him so unattractive#anyway i missed this show it's great and im here for the jack/ianto
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pleaseee i think we all deserve a joseph quinn “wired interview” fic :))
WIRED INTERVIEW. + JOSEPH QUINN
masterlist. / taglist. / any request?
[ ❥ ] synopsis. one of Joseph's first interviews following the premiere of the new season and his public disclosure of his relationship.
author's note. tis my birthday!
[ ❥ ] pairing. joseph quinn x reader
[ ❥ ] word count. 1.5k
[ ❥ ] genre and warnings. Fluff, actor!reader, black coded, based this from Kim and Pete’s relationship, Joseph being smitten, literally just fluff series masterlist.
Y/N L/N & joseph quinn Answer the Web's Most Searched Questions | WIRED
The interview starts off pretty tame. The couple that sat in the white room in front of the camera beamed with perfect happy smiles.
Joseph could not help but to touch Y/n in any way that he could.
Many of the fans suspect that his love language might have been touch from the complications and tiktoks of the male always reaching to hug/grab/hold the woman.
Joe wasn’t shy about his smitten state over Y/n that festered throughout the young years of the actors knowing each other. I
f there's one thing that the internet has been talking about since the opening week of Stranger Things releasing their new anticipated season, it's the new couple on set: Y/n L/N and Joseph Quinn’s rumored relationship.
After the pair met in the following year for the production of season four of Stranger Things, they've been spotted together a number of times, including the very adorable trending clips of them trending of the pair being more than friendly, begging the question from their fans: are they an item?
Just weeks after the release of the new season, Joseph and Y/n were spotted holding hands during an outing in NYC on what seemed to be a double date with their co-stars Natalia Dyer and Charlie Heaton at a pricey restaurant in the city.
Photos of the pair caused fans to speculate that maybe it just wasn't their characters that had a connection as well, though a source told People at the time, "Since we’re like one big close-knit circle of friends just being friends, it might come off that way to other people."
Following the many sightings, Joseph and Y/n were reported to have gone on a more private dinner date at another iconic Italian eatery, Campania's, in New York's Staten Island.
A source told Page Six, "Y/n arranged a dinner on the rooftop privately," adding that they didn't bring security with them and "quietly were able to sneak in and out."
A report from E! at the time also revealed why Joseph apparently likes Y/n, saying, "Y/n is a very down-to-earth person, who seems very grounded and humble every time that they hang out."
People reported that Joseph and Y/n were seen mingling a lot together during the after party of the Stranger Things watch party. Sources show proof of the pair together in almost every video that was posted from the small party that was attended mostly by the cast and production along with friends.
A source told People at the time that the couple was "always together." It was a "big night for them," another source told E! News. "But it seemed like they were in their own universe." The source also said the two didn’t want to be perceived as a couple in public. "They were careful not to show too much PDA with so many eyes around."
With the entirety of the entire internet (including Dojacat) wondering what was going on between the pair, Joseph decided to settle things earlier this week, during his current appearance at Comic Con, where a fan asked the long awaited question about the situation.
"I think everyone just wants to know—me mostly because, hello, you’re both so fine—but is it really just a rumor or are you and Y/N really an item?" The fan asked as the audience voiced their approval of the question. "Or is it all just, like, really good PR? You have to be honest."
Joseph couldn't seem to contain his blushful glance as he playfully fauxed an eye roll, dramatically leaning back from his chair as the crowd seemed to get louder with anticipation of his answer before responding: "I'm more offended honestly that you guys think it was all just a PR stunt."
Understandably, the crowd completely lost it for a moment before Joseph finally said, "I mean, we made out that one time in public and the next day she was just scrolling through twitter and all the replies were just like "guys, they're just besties, calm the hell down" and I’ve never been more concerned because we weren't even trying to hide it, it was more just waiting until everyone caught on."
Over on social media, the fans could not contain their excitement over the topic of conversation. "Love a black woman to infinity to infinity!!" said one twitter user with the clip of the reveal, with another adding, "I know I'm biting her fucking pillow and peeling back her fucking wig because of this one lmaooo."
Joseph and Y/n just keep getting cuter and cuter since their relationship became public. Finally, the actors share their first ever pictures together as a couple.
Y/n posted to her instagram page a grid of pictures that left fans in a frenzy. The spam of posts featuring Joseph and her wrapped in each other's embrace during the start of the new season's long production revealed to fans the long timeline of their relationship.
The pictures in question are captioned: "I'm sorry that you seemed to be confused…" Many suspect that the caption was to shade Doja Cat, the artist getting into quite a situation with Y/n’s younger costar Noah Schnapp, after taking to Instagram Live to publicly post their Instagram direct message conversation in a since-deleted TikTok.
In the exchange, the rapper asked the actor to help set her up with his co-star Joseph Quinn, which Y/n/L/n seemed to not take much interest in.
Click to view video
“Okay well you have to say it,” Y/n gestured with her ombre french tip nails, adjusting her brown wrap halter top from the hem that snug onto her brown skin just perfectly. Joseph gave a sort of side glance to the woman as his eyebrows creased.
“Cause’ It’ll sound better coming from you.” The whine in Y/ns voice was clear, not it an annoyed way just in the way of being playful when behind the camera a slight hesitation in leaning into his immediate touch.
“Honey, I think you sound just fine.” He reached to squeeze the plush on the woman's thigh, the high of her olive green mini skirt that covered only her middle thigh.
“Oh fuck off—hello, im Y/n L/n and this is,” the pair giggled at the drastic and dramatic mood switch that conterted Y/n features, the woman raising her hand to cover her smile subconsiously as she laughed brightly.
“Joseph Quinn.” Joseph answered with his voice peaking into a more gentle softer tone because of the laughter.
“And today we’re doing the wired autocomplete interview!”
Autocomplete suggests the most common searches on the internet.
So WIRED asked Joseph and Y/n L/n some of the internet’s burning questions.
The video cuts to Joseph sitting with his legs folded, the white board littered with questions perched on to the start of his knee joint, which formed a bend.
Setting the board at an angle so it was sort of presented to Y/n as she sat a little off to the side, the questions all started with her name as she slouched into a more comfortable sitting posture to subconsciously lean more into Joseph as the interview continued.
"How old was Y/n in the Bruno Mars video?" the first question shot off as Joseph peeled the paper away, revealing the answer as he flipped the strip from his bed of his thumb.
His dark brown eyes glistened under the studio light as he glanced at the woman with a content smile, watching the start of a smile creep onto her glossed lips, Y/n glancing up at the ceiling in thought. "I was like, 21ish when I recorded the song."
"Can I just say how cool it is that you’ve casually been just a song for such an amazing artist?" Joseph interpreted as Y/n giggled at the compliment, her shoulders bouncing with her laughter as he added. "Like how many people can just casually say, "Oh yeah, I was in a Bruno Mars and Anderson Paak music video?" That's insane to me."
"Does Y/n…play the drums?" the question making Joseph's lips pout out as he menetally recalled the many times he would beg you to play the drums for him after seeing the dedication you put into learning the instrument for the show, your character being the outcast with big round glasses but a killer drumming skill, your average height being just below Sadie Sinks, giving you an advantage to be in the younger iconic cast, being an award-winning favorite when introduced in the second season.
"Uh, yes? Kind of, not as much as outside of the show, but I still had to learn a lot for the show." She was fidgeting with the underside of her nails. "It's sort of annoying sometimes though, because I really love having a decent nail length and I remember having a really cute nail set during production and the stylist was just like, "yeah, rip those off for me." I’ve never been more pissed."
"Who is Y/n L/n dating?" The question led the couple to smile at each other, Y/n leaving a gestured thumb to her boyfriend of almost 3 years.
[ ❥ ] taglist. @prettyeyedmaureen @torynicholsgf @bucky-daddy-barnes @eldriidd @ycarlii @guitarromantic @sh3lov3dyou @lafresamilk @loveshineslikethesky @haechaniebom @hello-1000 @vxid42 @biggestslutever @spenglerslime @eddiesbitchx @slvdsjjk @stitched-mouth @misaamaneswifey @kiszkathecook @imahoforthings @kyyellaxi @eichenhouseproperty @hotgirlsshareaccounts @ran-rap
@lloromanic-png @avasjunkpile @punkrockcrocks @first-edition-dumpster-fire @batmetallady @woahhhfidget @ireadstoriesnotmakethem @notsoshynomore @the-night-owl-blr @1efleur @todoroki-slut @mjauqeen @scarlet-kazuha @lattayhottay16 @astralwaifu @prettyplant0 @imliterallygonnagetviolent @strangerthanfanfiction713 @graktung @sughcashsaiki @fzzybrain @caseket @spiritualwhore444 @xoxo-dede @sapppy-cocktail @joyrubyjanee
tap here to be added to taglist.
#[ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ ★ — t.wrks. ]#joesph quinn#joseph quinn x reader#stranger things#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#joseph quinn#stranger things 4#netflix#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson stranger things#st4#eddie munson concept#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson x you#stranger things imagine#stranger things x reader#black reader
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A Night of Firsts
In which you, dear reader, are the object of a certain druid's desires and agree to meet him for a night of passion...it also happens to be your first time. NSFW
You’re so nervous as you walk through the woods.
What if he hates what he sees? What if I’m awful? What if—
You were snapped out of your thoughts by the sight of the man who had asked you to meet him---the tall druid with the kind heart. Leaning against a tree, you noticed the very large muscles in his arms seemed tense. Is he nervous? Surely not? He’s older than you’ll ever be, and surely…
“Forgive me.” He offered a rueful smile as he turned to face you. “I was afraid you wouldn’t show.”
You were taken aback by his words. Didn’t think I’d show up? For him? “I-I wouldn’t dream of it.” You tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, trying desperately not to appear just as nervous as he is. “Sorry to have kept you waiting, Halsin.”
He holds up his hand and smiles ruefully. “Oh! I didn’t mean to imply you’re late. Tis a beautiful night.” Chuckling, he looks apologetic. “Forgive me once more, my dear. It’s been some time since I’ve been with a lover.”
Before you have time to think, to consider what words you would say next, they tumble out of you. “Well, I’ve never even had one!”
Oh shit.
Oh fuck.
OH GODS!
Why did I say that?!
Halsin, thankfully unaware that you wish the earth so he loves would swallow you whole, stares at you with his mouth agape. “You…truly? It’s not that it’s a bad thing, mind you. I’m simply surprised. Surely there are those in the city who have…” He chuckles again, and you cannot help but notice how seemingly boyish he looks in that moment. “No. Maybe it’s your choice, and it’s—”
“Not by choice.” You say quietly, looking down at the ground. You remember all the times your affections were rejected---both gently and not---and your heart breaks a little. Sometimes it was as pleasant as it could be. Sometimes it was awful. Other times, though, you were told that no one would ever love a woman of your size. “No one chooses to fuck a fatty” was what the last one said to me. You did not realize you were crying until a rough, calloused thumb touched your cheek.
“My heart, let me dry your tears.” He gently wiped away the tears with one hand, while the other rested on your waist. “You are loved…and desired. Very much so.” As your eyes met his, you felt reassured by his warm smile. “I will be gentle of course. I want this to be—”
You cannot help yourself. “Just as nature intended?” You grin, your nose wrinkling just a little.
He barks a laugh. “I was going to say, ‘wonderful for you’ but sure, my heart, that works too.” His other hand fell to the other side of your waist, and he squeezed gently. “So beautiful. I am honored to be your first, dear one.” His large hands traveled up and down your sides, only the thin fabric of your nightshirt between his touch and your skin. “You’re so soft and inviting…” He stepped back and within a moment his clothes were off.
Oh.
OH.
OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
You could not help but wet your lips upon seeing him.
He is so big. Everything about him is big. His heart. His kindness. His gentleness.
HIS HUGE COCK.
“Cat got your tongue, my heart?” Halsin teased, stepping back towards you, his massive hands on your shoulders.
“More like a bear, love.” You hesitate for a moment, trying to gather the courage to remove your own clothes. What if he—
He placed a gentle kiss on your head. “Take your time. We’ve no rush.”
Oh, you sweet, wonderful bear elf man. You hesitate for a second before speaking. “I-it’s not that. I’m just being silly…”
Enveloping you in his arms, he shook his head. “Whatever it is, it’s not silly or else you wouldn’t be so bothered, my heart. What troubles you?”
What’s been troubling me since I was a little girl. What troubles me every time I express interest in someone and get rejected. What troubles me when I feel the stares every time I eat. You close your eyes, screwing them shut. “I want this…want you more than anything…I-I’m sorry about how I look.”
“Why be sorry when you have nothing to be sorry for?” He buried his head in your hair, breathing in your scent. “You are the loveliest of nature’s creations.” His large hands roamed over your thin nightshirt. “And you feel…” Halsin moaned. “Incredible.”
With how close the two of you were, you could feel his enormous muscles and how hard he was. If he truly believes that I’m beautiful, then I should trust him. Believe him. Let him love me because gods do I want him. “So do you, Halsin.” You whisper, tentatively running your hands up his chest. Karlach said to be bold and brave in love, so I shall! Getting on the tips of your toes, you lean up to kiss him and wrap your arms around his neck.
As his lips meet yours, he grunts and lifts you off the ground slightly in a massive bear-like hug. OH MY GODS!!?!?! Though it ends as quickly as it began, you feel like your heart is going to beat out of your chest not out of nerves but because you never thought that would ever happen. “Gods,” you breathe, your generous bosom rising and falling rapidly. “I—”
He smirked a little, still holding you. “I take it you liked that then?”
If anyone doesn’t like that, then they should have their head examined. You chuckle, step back, and begin to pull off your nightshirt. Halsin licks his lips in anticipation, watching your every move. While you still feel self-conscious, Halsin’s presence does calm you slightly. The cool night air sends a shiver up your spine, your nipples hardening due not only to the temperature but also your arousal.
Just as you are about to pull down your trousers, Halsin shakes his head. “Please, my heart. Allow me.” His voice is soft as he pushes your hands off the waistband. He hooks his very large fingers inside and ever so slowly pulls them and your smalls down. “Oak Father preserve me, such beauty!” You gasp as he gets on his knees, pulling your trousers and smalls past your big fat butt. He stops for a moment, his extremely large hands cupping your behind. “Nature made you so supple, so soft, my heart.” Spending a few moments rubbing your ass, he places several kisses along your lower belly.
Gods, I’m burning up. He hasn’t done anything yet, and I’m already a quivering mess. You glance down at him and notice his hazel eyes glowing gold. “Love?”
He continues his ministrations, small growls escaping him. “The bear grows more wild every second. All because of you.” Halsin closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “But I will not go into wildshape tonight. Not for your first time. There will be other nights…other nights when,” he groaned, burying his face in the curls at the apex of your thighs. “I can put a ‘cub’ or two in you.”
You blink. You did not think it was possible for you to be even more turned on, but somehow the druid managed it. You manage to get a squeak out as you unconsciously rub your thick thighs together.
Halsin chuckles. “Does that excite you, my heart? Your scent tells me yes. Your movements tell me yes.” His hands gripped her thighs as he pressed kisses to them. “But do you say?”
Taking yet another page from Karlach, you lean down and tilt his face up, “Fuck yeah.” DEFINITELY INTERESTED IN THAT. “Should I, erm…my pants…?”
He nods quickly. “Forgive me, of course. Let me,” he pulls your trousers all the way down, admiring you. You step out of them (finally) and are completely bare to him. And he likes this. Likes me. I can’t even believe it, but it’s true. You cannot help but blush, your arms crossing your ample chest. “You truly are nature’s most beautiful creation, my heart.” He clears his throat, still looking at you at a goddess. “Let’s lie down.”
When he’s in wildshape, then I’ll get my ass cacked in dirt and mud. Tonight however, it’s a bed. You smirk as you snap your fingers, and within moments, a king-size bed, surrounded by candles and lanterns, appears in the forest. I’m a sorceress. This is child’s play.
Halsin begins to laugh and then pulls you into a hug. “Don’t fancy a romp on nature’s floor tonight, my love? Though I must say, this is quite romantic.” Kissing your head, he sighs happily. “Here’s hoping I can live up to it by giving you everything you deserve and more.”
You kiss his chest before sitting at the edge of the bed, slowly pushing yourself backwards up to a pile of fluffy pillows. “No matter what it will be, love.”
“That you have such confidence in me is reassuring.” He teases, grabbing his rock-hard cock and squeezing the tip slightly. “But before we begin, you need to know that all this,” he moaned as he ran his hand up and down his swollen length. “is because of you. You’re beautiful inside and out. So, so beautiful…” He murmurs and begins to crawl up to you. “When I look at you, I see a goddess of abundance---in kindness, heart, courage,” he pushes your thick thighs apart and stares hungrily at your throbbing cunt. He grips your thick, soft thighs, kneading them. “Softness…such sweet softness, my heart.” He looks at you expectantly.
You can only nod in return. You are seemingly unable to find your voice as he grins and then starts to utterly devour you. Without thinking, you begin to tug his hair. “Oh gods, I’m so—” You say quickly and loosening your grip.
“Pull if you wish, my heart. I don’t mind.” He chuckles, his hazel eyes full of mirth. He then returns to licking and sucking you, moaning loudly all the while. As for you, you cannot stop tugging on his long hair, the feel of his braids on your fingers somehow sexier than seeing them. Gods, Halsin… His hands squeeze your hips to prevent you from moving too much, and you not so secretly want him to hold your hips more often. It’s hot. Him touching me likes this makes me feel so sexy. So desirable. Never felt like this before.
“Hal-Halsin, fucking hells…” You manage to get out as one of your hands starts to knead one of your breasts. Want more. Want him all over me. In me. Any way I can have him.
He lifts his head slightly, the amused look still in his eyes. “That’s it. Good girl. Keep touching yourself. There’s a good girl.” As he dives back into your cunt, one of the hands on your hip travels to your lower belly.
The coil inside you seems to get tighter and tighter as his tongue laps at you, as he touches you, and as you touch yourself. And all too soon for you, the coil snaps and you thrust upwards into Halsin. You feel as if you black out for a moment or two, and when you come to, Halsin has the remnants of some of your spend on his lips.
“You taste sweeter than honey, dear one. I cannot wait to find out how you feel around me.” He leans over you, and you suddenly feel so small and I’m not small! Though no matter how imposing his size is, his expression is gentle. “I’m going to use a finger or two first, my heart. As you can see, I’m quite…large. I don’t want you to be in any pain. However,” he offered a toothy grin. “I think you’re wet enough for me.”
As one of his fingers enters you, you determine quite quickly that you are not prepared for even how large the finger is. You squirm and gasp, feeling so deliciously full from just one of his fingers. “Love, please…need more…”
“You’re sure you’re in any pain, my heart?” He asks, his nose nuzzling yours.
“No, just want more of you. Please.”
His lips gently kiss yours, a second finger now entering you. You moan wantonly as his inhumanly large and very sexy fingers stretch you. “Do you think you’re ready for me?”
FUCK YES! “Gods yes, please.” You beg, panting as he removes his fingers.
Within seconds, you can feel the blunt tip of his engorged member at your entrance. “I will go slow, my heart, and be gentle.” He seems like he’s more telling himself that than me. Oh Halsin, I trust you. Slowly, he moves inch by inch.
I believe Astarion would call this “exquisite torture.” It feels like he’s tearing me apart while I want more. More. More of him. Gods, please. You babble incoherently, ranging from praise to sweet nothings.
Loud grunts and honeyed words fall from Halsin’s lips as he finally is fully hilted inside you. You both moan at the same time, and you nod at him to continue.
He thrusts gently the first few times, but then he picks up the pace. His pelvis collides with yours, faster and faster.
“My love, come again for me. I know you can do it. I know you can.” He pants, his hazel eyes gazing into yours. “Be a good girl and come for me. Just one more time. You can do it.”
That is all you need as you scream your second release, and your vision turns white. You are vaguely aware of Halsin burying his head into your shoulder, his nails digging into your wide, soft hips. He comes yelling your name. You can feel his cock twitching inside you, his seed spilling in you. When he is finished, Halsin wraps his arms around you and rolls you both on your sides. One arm is snugly around your thick waist, while the other is caressing your cheek.
“Well, that was,” you smile softly. “amazing. Will it be like that every time, love?”
He chuckles. “If that is your desire, then yes. We still have so much to explore together, my heart. In fact,” his eyes turn golden as he grins. “should you desire it, more of myself would like to—”
Halsin does not finish the sentence.
You are already kissing him passionately.
It’s bear time.
And yes, I do desire it.
#plus size reader#halsin bg3#halsin#halsin x reader#body image issues#this fic literally took on a life of its own and i'm not sorry#plus size unnamed tav#halsin wants you just as nature intended#plus size reader bg3#baldur's gate 3#bg3#bg3 fic#bg3 fanfiction
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First season wrap up:
Okay, to start, i should mention my general opinion on first seasons for shows, especially cable shows, is not to read too much of it as canon. The writers, producers, actors- everyone- are all trying to figure out what works and what doesn’t, so i give them latitude, particularly when it conflicts with later seasons. That being said, i do enjoy jumping through the hoops to make it all fit haha
So heres a few leftover notes i had as i revisited the eps to rank them:
I bet part of Lassie was craving the father figure in Henry, since we find out later his own father passed away when he was quite young. I wonder if thats part of the reason why he became a cop, as they are portrayed as the protectors and in the 80’s they were mainly men (i don’t really remember if he states his reason later, i suspect he did and im just not remembering). So when Henry didn’t meet up to the expectation he had in his mind, i bet it hurt a little more as it reminded him of what he lost :/
I think the other reason Shawn plays dumb so much, besides hiding his genius so ppl believe hes psychic, or for laughs, is because its how he gets people talking. Like in Shawn vs. the red phantom, he purposely guessed the wrong room number so the boys would correct him. My apologies if someones pointed this out before, i haven’t combed through the internet for everyone’s theories 😬 i only now noticed. I’m not the quickest at picking these things up lol
If i had to guess, Shawn didn’t want to be a cop for halloween, he probably wanted to be something star wars related to go with Gus’s Lando. So i wonder at what age Shawn stopped trying to please his dad. But also, why didn’t his mother ever stand up for him?? I’ll come back to her later -_-
I somehow missed it the first time, but shawn clearly asked Gus to come to the dinner and Gus even points out that it was a big deal for henry to reach out. Soo, yeah, shawn obviously didn’t wanna be alone with his dad, and even henry seemed nervous about it as hes pretty drunk.
Shawn has a right to be afraid of pointy things, his dad hid his easter eggs under glass when he was 6! Not to mention he later gets stabbed 3 times! (Also its just a legitimate fear???)
So far the list of Shawns knowledge (things i wouldn’t expect an average person to know) includes (beyond the obvious observational skills, deductive reasoning, reading people (poker), and all things police (marksmanship, police codes, etc.)):
Incredible spatial and physical reasoning skills (knowing how much money could fit in the duffle bag, knowing to rotate the water pitcher to catch the reflection from the tv)
Kurt Vonnegut (well, I didn’t know who he was at least)
How to spell aggiornamento (and probably all words because of his photographic memory)
Handwriting expert
Casually spoke and understood german
Has every road he’s driven mapped in his brain, and likely all of Santa Barbara
Familiar with paint (enough to know to mix latex enamel for no messy drips)
Animal tracks (i went back and forth on this but ultimately decided he must have known what to look for)
And heres a list of Gus’s niche interests:
Forensics
Spelling bee
Safe cracking
Historic rifles
Comic books
Astronomy (even though he was going to the planetarium for the girl)
Law
Local tennis
Online poker
Lastly, Ive decided instead of ranking them, im putting them in tiers. I feel like too many of them are hitting at the same level and I can’t differentiate:
Sweetest, Juiciest Golden Pineapple Tier
Scary Sherry, Biancas toast (ohmygod i just got the biancas toast 🤦🏽♀️)
Blue Psych Logo Tier
Weekend warriors
Forget me not
From the earth to starbucks
Poker? I hardly know her! (Sorry @pineapple-psychic!)
Pepto Bismo Pink Tier
Spelling bee
Pilot
She loves me, she loves me not, she loves me oops hes dead
Who ya gonna call?
Shawn vs the red phantom
Oops Canadian Flag Tier
Cloudy with a chance of murder
9 lives
Game set muuurder
Speak now or forever hold your piece
Woman seeking dead husband, smokers okay, no pets
#a little nod to their podcast with the pepto bismo pink ;)#if theres anything else ya’ll want me keep track of let me know i clearly enjoy homework haha#its so hard not to include ALL my thoughts#like how smart it was to add juliet going to call back up because she’s not an idiot and isn’t driven by ego to dumb dangerous things#or even shawns line of needing to put his phone on vibrate as thats such a horror film cliche#but i really don’t want to write an essay on each ep haha#psych tv#psych#psych rewatch#psych usa#shawn spencer#burton guster#shawn and gus#james roday rodriguez#james roday#dulé hill#dule hill#juliet o'hara#carlton lassiter#chief karen vick#timothy omundson#maggie lawson#kirsten nelson#corbin bernsen#henry spencer#shassie#shules
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Hiiii! So I have a lady Lesso request
Lady Lesso x drunk reader (either a student of age or teacher) whichever you are comfiest with
Reader is a very goofy drunk until they start to sober and then they are very emotional and they just keep explaining how in love with Lesso they are in front of the staff and beautiful they find her inside and out. How they want to marry her and live forever with her. Reader is also super snuggly and clingy when sobering up and pushing her away would make her cry.
Emotional Love
*Authors notes~a small break from the smut, not that I don't love it but this one's been sat here for a while now*
Trigger warnings~ drunk reader teacher of age x dean Leo pining reader trying to initiate sex under the influence
Prompt~ see ask^^^^*
A simple plan, a few drinks with some of the fellow Ever staff soon resulted into a game of never have ever. The rules were simple, if you did something you drink a shot, and then get to ask the next question. If there was multiple people who took the shot it was always passed to the left. It was no secret that you walked the line between good and evil, so it should've been obvious that you'd be the one who ended up the most drunk. Yet you still indulged the woman to play.
"Never have I ever wished for a child" Clarissa murmured watching as a few of the woman and yourself took a shot before taking her own. "Never have I ever had a sex dream of another woman" Anemore chose with a smirk, of course you would take a shot. "Never have I ever hated my subject" you smirked back at Emma as she took a shot. "Never have I ever had a personal conversation with Leonora" Helga whispered, her eyes stayed away from yours. In their male form Yuba and Leonora were sort of acquaintances. You took your shot alongside Clarissa. The game continued on much like that until you were very very drunk. "Oh! Let's do dares!" You giggled excitedly as if you'd just said the most amazing idea ever known to man.
"I'll go first, truth or dare Rissa?" Emma asked and naturally the dean choose truth. "Is it true you wish to join the schools together as one?" A silent nod was all she was given. "Truth or dare professor Espada" a small pause before "dare" was whispered. "I dare you to show us where your most hidden dagger is on your body." Standing up the more masculine woman pulled a dagger from the middle of her bra. "Truth or dare Y/n" you were so far gone you honestly went for what you thought was the better option, a dare. "I dare you to go and find Leonora and call her min söta tik." "Min söta tik" you repeated before standing up and leaving to find Leonora.
On the walk between the schools the air seemed to be harsher than before, instead of caressing your face it was now whipping it. Only then did it really hit you how drunk you truly were. Giggling as you tried to walk in a straight line which only resulted in you toppling over. Everything seemed to have you in a burst of giggles. The moon appears to have a face on it and you were happily having a conversation with the moon about why it was so yellow. Why yellow? Didn't it know yellow was not the way to go? No wonder why everyone says it's made of cheese if it wants to look yellow.
Arriving to Leonora's chambers you didn't even bother to knock, just barrelling into her room with a newfound confidence. But that very thing disappeared as soon as the redhead spoke up. "Dove?" Was all it took for you to burst into tears. "By the gods? What on earth is wrong?" She asked but her tone seemed to make you cry more. "I just I love you so much, you don't even know I exist! You're so pretty. On the inside. I wanna get inside you and stay foreverrrrr! Buy you don't know I want that. You're so beautiful Nora. M wan marry you and wake up with you next to me. Gods Nora I wanna make you feel so good, I could you know? I could make you feel like every colour of the rainbow, every star exploded in the galaxy just by my tongue in your-" your rant was cut off by the red head. "Woah woah dove you're drunk, you don't have a sound mind right now, you probably don't feel those things love" she rationalised but that made you sob, "I do feel them! I want you! I want to fuck you, marry you and love you! Why don't you want me?" Your tears and sobs were now bothering the woman, she hates to see you cry, let alone be the cause for it.
"Come here dove" she demanded opening her arms to you in an offer. One you immediately took, settling on her lap as her arms snaked around your waist. "Shhh see I'm here okay? But you're so drunk darling and I'd much rather have this conversation with you sober" she whispered to you hoping to soothe you with her presence. "M not drunk! Drunk can't go this" you explained with a goofy smile before attacking her neck with your lips. A hand trying to trail between your bodies only for Leonora to stop it on its way. "Darling, not while you're drunk. You're to special for that dove."
"min söta tik" you mumbled to her being absolutely star struck by her eyes, you look so adorable that she almost missed what you said to her then. "Pardon?" She replied with shock evident in her tone. "min söta tik, they said I had to say it? Is it bad Nora? I don't know what it means" you explained and Leonora knew she'd be having a word with Clarissa in the morning to discuss this. "It's not so nice darling, so we don't say it again okay? You're a sweet girl and that's why I love you." You snuggled into the woman's body in response, not processing that you'd just called her "my sweet bitch" but she was comforting and warm and that just made you wanna get closer and closer to her.
"Dove, you need to hop off my lap darling, my knee isn't liking the position" Lesso whispered to you only for you to start crying again. "I want stay. Warm!" You sobbed trying to cling to the woman but in your drunken state you interrupted it as her trying to get rid of you, why would she push you away? Doesn't she believe your feelings for her? Doesn't she care? Does she care for you like you do her?" You stiffened as your mind went round these thoughts on a loop. "Hey you, what's going on in that pretty kind of yours? I just thought we could snuggle in bed? You know Nora has a bad leg dove, it was cramping up so if I lay down and stretch it I can still hold you" she explained as you sniffled all tear eyed. "Mkay" you mumbled and allowed her to lead you to the bed, magically changing you and herself into some sleep wear before allowing you to come and snuggle up to her chest. "Sleep my dove we can talk in the morning about this emotional love."
Word count~ 1272
#anon answered#v3nusxsky answers#anon requested#lady lesso#sfgae#leonora lesso#lady lesso x reader#lesso x reader#fanfic#lady leonora lesso#leonora lesso x reader#lady lesso x you#lady leonora lesso x reader
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Do you believe Aemond is a Valyrian Supremacist? He models Daemon so much in his focus on Valyrian history, dragons, Targaryen blood etc, that to me I feel as though he must to some extent believe Targaryen's to be superior? I see alot of people defending him on the basis he isn't, but... I just don't see why Aemond of all characters wouldn't have feelings of superiority based on his blood? Extending from that, do you think he would have preferred to wed a Targaryen woman? We get a glimpse he feels that way from the TV show, but in the circumstances he had another sister instead of Helaena, surely he would have been betrothed to her/wanted to be? I just truly cannot see him as being free of "bigotry" in regards to seeing non- Valyrians as below him. Like? Isn't that the point of him hating Rhaneyra's sons? Because they are bastards from a lower House?
This is a really great ask, anon. Thank you for asking me. But of course, you asked me, so it’s no surprise that I will give a very me answer.
First, I really dislike having that phrase Valyrian Supremacist on my blog. I only have it one other time that I can remember and that was also an ask. Briefly, I’ll tell you why: it is a 20th-21st century Earth term that may not have been present in Westeros. If we are discussing in-universe theory and not literary/film theory then I choose to avoid it.
This may get long but I want to be as clear as possible: I only slightly agree with you. If we grant the premise, that he models parts of his personality after Daemon (which is a difficulty premise to grant in its entirety), then I would say that his Targaryen side would value that heritage to a degree. However, he cares deeply for his entire family and that includes the Hightowers. His last name is Targaryen, but let’s not forget he is also a Hightower. I think great houses/names are very important to royalty in Westeros, Aemond included. Hightowers are certainly not lowborn.
Trying to go in the same order as your questions, I would say next that all descendants of Valyria may feel superior because of history and dragon lore. I can never overlook House Velaryon in these discussions. They also have immense pride in their heritage and name. However, when you say “Aemond of all characters” I wonder exactly why he stands out as someone for whom this pride seems more important. If we examine his actions in season one and in the book, I think we can see that his character is no more or less concerned with it than the average character.
If he were more concerned with Targaryen blood and that pride fueled his decisions, what would that say about Alys Rivers? I think most fans who haven’t read the book know a little about her, but for those who don’t she was a bastard Aemond took as a “war bride.” Regardless of whether or not she bewitched him, we can’t talk about his life as a whole without mentioning her and their relationship. If she did, we aren't told at exactly what point that happened. He wasn't above sex with non-Targaryens.
Since it was first uttered, I have been obsessed with his line “I would perform my duty, if mother had only betrothed us.” Leo Ashton delivered it with such sincerity and commitment that it is hard to argue against Aemond’s devotion to his family (not discussing any specific romantic ships here). As we know, royalty and aristocracy in Westeros get very little choice in who they wed. The hypothetical “if he had another sister” is interesting because that marriage would, ultimately, be decided by Viserys and Alicent.
Such a betrothal would have been seen as a duty and honorable, so I have no doubt that Aemond would have agreed. I don’t know that anyone would disagree that Aemond puts his family above everything else. Thus, I have yet to see in the series direct bigotry from him. Factually, with no nuance, the issue with Rhaneyra’s sons is illegitimacy. Every character may have a different interpretation as to how this effects the line of succession and only a few state it explicitly in the series. I would argue that Aemond doesn’t care that their father isn’t Laenor Velaryon when he first calls them bastards. Children at that age might not really comprehend the ramifications of that accusation (I think we see clearly that Aegon doesn’t). Aemond first dislikes his nephews because they were cruel to him. Yes, his brother was as well. The Pink Dread was seemingly almost entirely Aegon’s idea, but siblings often forgive each other more readily than they may forgive outsiders.
In Fire & Blood we get a clear picture of how much his animosity and resentment fuel his actions:
One by one, every man and boy with Strong blood in his veins was dragged forth and put to death, until the heap made of their heads stood three feet tall.
I do not think this action was about bloodlines or heritage. I believe this was entirely revenge. By this point in the Dance, Aemond is furious and nearly crazed by his need to avenge the wrongs done to his family. I don’t think it was an attempt to annihilate the Strong bloodline, but a show of force and power. Aemond is formidable, rash, and still young enough to not care about consequences. Perhaps you have noticed I skipped over the direct slight against him. Lucerys altered Aemond’s life irrevocably. Had this same mutilation happened to a low born boy, he would have had no future at all in Westeros. Aemond’s lifestyle was only salvaged because he is royalty and through determination of will.
Would the loss of an eye, the murder of one’s young nephew (Prince Jaehaerys), and the maiming of one’s brother cause a young prince to go nearly mad with rage and the need for revenge? I believe so. By this point in the Dance, further along than I think you asked about, Targaryen heritage is probably the last thing on Aemond’s mind. I have no doubt that he was raised to believe that dragons, the throne, and many other things make Targaryens better. But we should never discount his mother’s influence. This man loves her dearly and Alicent may provide some balance in his understanding of things. My headcanon about his religion (not particularly relevant here) comes from the canon that Alicent has a strong faith in the Seven. I think this has a deep effect on Aemond and could influence whether or not Targaryen blood is paramount to him.
Lastly, I wanted to address this statement:
I see a lot of people defending him on the basis he isn’t
I assume that you use “defending” in the sense that these fans attempt to separate him as somehow immune to this pride or better than other Targaryens. I don’t know that I have read exactly the defenses you’re referencing, but I will be clear: this is not a discussion of fanfiction. If that is an element of a work of fanfiction, then by all means, go for it. It doesn’t seem plausible, however, that anyone of Valyrian descent is immune to this type of indoctrination.
#I seriously love this type of ask#asked and answered#house of the dragon#hotd#aemond targaryen#dance of the dragons#dance of the dragons spoilers#fire and blood#Aemond#aemond one eye
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You know how I said that man would inevitably disappoint me? Well holy fucking shit if this isn't the only time he's ever delivered, and in the worst possible way. There won't be any CanNats fashion takes from me if he dares show his face there because I don't intend on watching. His blatant disregard for every human being he's ever come across is downright psychopathic and it's been filling me with rage for days. I can't imagine what that poor woman has gone through, carrying the trauma all these years, while watching him soar in his career and get praise, support and love from the blissfully unaware. I'm so sorry she went through that and I'm happy for her that she felt healed enough to expose him.
That said, Skate Canada wouldn't be Skate Canada if it did anything right. It's failed test after test, each of increasing difficulty, each time hiding behind a "due process" that is conveniently designed to fail survivors. But the sheer spinelessness it's been displaying in this case is such a low point, it's limbo dancing in hell. What baffles me is that it isn't even trying to cover its own ass, and I don't even know if it comes from hubris or sheer ineptitude and passivity. Even if it has no procedural recourse, the fact that no one, especially IAM, has had the cojones to go up to this fool and tell him in no uncertain terms that he won't be going anywhere next week is baffling to me. Their lack of self-preservation in this case should be studied by psychopathologists. I've felt for some time now that IAM has been losing its moral compass, but I was torn to shreds for voicing this opinion online, because this is apparently a lot of skating fans' emotional support coaching team. But they're human, and fallible, and in this case, they seem to be dying on a hill that's barely even a mound and it's bananas to witness. They so easily could've claimed an injury, announced a retirement and bounced, but they went to the GPF regardless, and their coaches at the very least went along with it, despite the fact that they were simultaneously screwing over another one of their teams in the process, in this case AlliSaul. I've long advocated against the disease that is skatingitis, which is the condition of not being able to see anything outside of skating, with the most severe case ever being Aljona. But how does this level of loss of perspective even happen? How far does one's head need to be up one's ass not to be able to read the fucking room to this extent? Are they truly that arrogant to think they can just show up at Nationals like it's nbd? At the very least, the other competitors don't deserve this shit to cast a pall over their event, which for many will be the last of the season.
I also can't help but think about how he inserted himself into Lolo's life, pursued her relentlessly despite her having a bf at the time, and he's now passed like a tornado through it, probably leaving her wondering what the hell it was all for. And the callous way he's treated her over the years, even calling her "a nobody" in the retelling of the tale of their tryout and decision to skate together, as if he is in any position to look down upon her. He had the right idea that time when he stabbed himself with a knife he himself had forged. How poetic, he should turn it into a hobby.
They weren't kissy at the GPF but she still made the decision to attend this event with him and pretend everything was hunky-dory, nothing to see here, business as usual. I understand wanting one last hurrah, but if this is a case of a trauma bond or codependency or whatever, why is nobody on her team looking out for her well-being? Why is nobody putting a foot down? What on earth do they think is going to happen? He's basically comicbook villain levels of vile. And to also think of all the collateral damage he's caused in the form of talented skaters quitting because he showed up to skate for Canada and they felt like there was no room for them to move up? Hell, Caro and Shane switched fucking countries at great personal expense and by all accounts Skate Canada made them pass through the Devil's Anus to do it, and now to watch it cower and dodge responsibility when it comes to something so fucking major? Seriously, when will there be a reckoning for Skate Canada? It's been losing the plot for a long ass time, doing clown shit even in a court of fucking law (thank god for that judge, though). What needs to happen? Does Sheldon Kennedy need to roll up there and bitch-slap some sense into them? What is the hold this raggedy-ass, good-for-nothing, held-togehter-with-paperclips, manbun-for-personality violent rapist have over them? He's done. Why go down with the ship? It's all disgusting and infuriating and disappointing and scary. All of these people have the integrity of an H&M t-shirt that falls apart after a single wash as far as I'm concerned. But I know nothing will change unless we hit them where it hurts, which is why I'll be contacting their sponsors, and I urge others to do so as well, because skating has been an amoral system for far too long and the victims are too many at this point, and clearly nobody cares about them. Something's gotta give. Anyway, I wish Marjo and Zak a very 4CC medal and Corpse Bride a good time at Worlds, amen amen amen.
Posted without comment because I have nothing to add, you've said it all.
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the ultimatum s3 thoughts so far
Lisa: Abuser! Liar! Pick me! She was embarrassing from start to finish and I already know her bird ass not coming to the reunion. Get off my screen.
Brian: I'm so sorry you're trapped with this woman. He seems like a genuinely good guy, honestly just co parent and detach yourself from that unhealed toxic ass banshee.
Trey: 9/10, He is almost the whole package, but I really think he should let Riah go if he can't compromise on her wanting to have some experiences before marriage, cuz as a 24 year old still figuring shit out, I empathize with all her worries. That being said-
Riah: GIRLY! If you want to live your life for you like you say you do, you don't need your man to come with you to the city especially if he don't wanna be there! Also, either move past him catching feelings or end the relationship. It isn't fair to dwell on things, especially cuz you knew the consequences coming into this. I love her though, she's real one and I feel like we'd be friends.
James: I hate when men make their trauma everyone else's problem. Either make steps to heal or shut the fuck up! Why should the women around him accommodate to his brooding? Ryann deserves a man who is willing to communicate with her because she's such a catch, and I think she's settling for James and he can feel it too, so he strings her along so he feels he has the upper hand in the relationship. I hope to God she pushes for him to go to therapy or honey there's a big storm coming.
Ryann: I love this girl omg, she is so sweet and down to earth. But 7 years? They need time apart to date other people for real so she can realize some men are ready to put in effort immediately and don't need to be pulled by the ear. But I just know she'll settle anyways so it's sad.
Roxanne: At first I liked her, but realized she's one of those girl boss feminists very much giving barbieland at the beginning of the movie. She needs a wake up call, but her man is a coffee table so she's not gonna get one.
Alex: Before I get into why he bothers me, I have to point out I am so glad he put Roxanne in her place. She met her match with this guy and it pissed both of them off to not be able to walk over their partners which is why both of them came back to their exes with such relief. BUT this douchebag keeps telling Kat that she's "pleasant" to be around, and while that's a reasonable request for a future spouse to not be generally unpleasant, the way he says it is very much giving "keep sweet" if you know what I mean.
Kat: Referring to my previous statement, I wonder what religion this couple follows if any because the way Kat "submits" to Alex is familiar and disheartening to watch. That being said, Kat is such a people pleaser, she literally agreed with every single person on the show the entire time and the only time she argued or said a conflicting opinion it was in DEFENSE of Alex. So yeah, I worry for her.
Antonio: S to the I to the M to the P. Like i'm sorry roxanne despises you and you don't have the self respect or insight to vocalise it, because we KNOW you KNOW you just don't wanna say it. But in his defense, I think Roxanne is verbally abusive so she reinforces his insecurities and uses finances as leverage over him. If he wasn't so focused on self loathing he would see his relationship is a form of self harm and would take steps to leave. But I'm not a fan of victim blaming so I genuinely feel bad for him.
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"The Last Voyage of Demeter" (2023) worries me
"The Last Voyage of Demeter" (who allowed the Poles to translate this to pl. "Demeter: Przebudzenie Zła", ang. "Demeter: The Awakening of Evil". The literal translation of this title in Polish sounds even better than in English, "Ostatnia podróż Demeter", mhm, lovely.)(2023) worries me.
The story about the ship "Demeter" in Bram Stocker's "Dracula," I can call the only part of the book still gripping (at least for me). And honestly, it deserves a good film adaptation. The problem is that with every look at the posters and trailers, I dislike more and more the direction this film is going. Which makes me sad, because the convention of horror in the sea is one of my favorites along with those that take place in cold places. But what's really bothering me about the movie's announcements? There are a few of them.
The main yellow and even red flag I see is how much they want to show us Dracula. Yeah, the model is not the worst, although with current technology we could make a much better looking Dracula with practical effects, but that is not a big problem. However, focusing so much on Dracula is the problem. The part of the book in which we learn a bit about what happened on that board is the press' presentation of the captain's diary, which, compared to the diaries of other characters, gives us very little specifics. Which gives a lot of opportunity to play with convention, there is no clear plan of events, few specific situations actually happen there so you don't have to stick firmly to the original. But there's one thing we know that makes this story still interesting, and that the movie forgets, which is that by the very end, the protagonist of this story doesn't know what he's really fighting with and does he really fight anything. In the trailer and posters, however, our antagonist is shown in great detail, which is lame. Horror movies on the sea (and in general where we are separated from other people) are cool due to the fact that we are separated from civilization by water, and the years of action of the film are even more interesting due to the fact that there is no communication, but not only that. The problem is that the best stories of this type are not limited to the monster, boogieman, and expand this to include the fight against nature and the other man and unsure of what is really going on. "The Last Voyage of Demeter" looks like it doesn't use any of these possibilities, except maybe rain and water, but in this story there will probably be neither uncertainty nor fighting between people. What it shows is that everyone is aware that something strange is going on on the ship, some even know what kills which is the worst part of it and everyone believes in this monster because it's been in plain sight so many times which cancels out the most interesting parts of the story.
The next interesting thing is that it seems that this time the main character will not be a captain… but some child and a doctor and woman, which worries me again. Why in a story about a man who experiences a very strange situation with his own eyes, where the reader has only his point of view (of course not talking about the rest of the book), why more points of view? Of course, many points of view can work in a story like this, my favorite movie proves it. The problem is that I don't understand this change and I don't like it to such an extent that I wonder if it won't spoil the tension and change the ending of the story that was very good in the original to a more gentle one, maybe? I'm afraid that the creators will leave some protagonists alive, e.g. a child. It's possible they'll defeat the antagonists, if they do it, I'll shoot myself.
And minor flaws. I don't like that knocking in the trailer, it seems cheap to me. I imagined that Demeter would be a bigger ship due to the fact that from what I remember (not sure) there were also boxes with earth on board. I'm not sure about the casting. Plus the styling looks "meh".
I want to be wrong in this case, because I would like it to be a good movie, in the end I want to go see it, but my hope is dwindling.
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The Wild Cards (Wait, WHO'S teaming up?!)
[All images owned by DC Comics and Hannah-Barbara. Please don’t sue me]
I had previously mentioned the Royal Flush Gang in a couple of reviews, but this time I’m going to their first televised appearance…all the way back to The Super Powers Team. If you would like to watch the episode, it’s available on Max or behind your favorite paywall.
We open in Metropolis where a team of four thieves are pulling off a heist along the roof of a skyscraper.
However, their actions do not go unnoticed.
Unfortunately for them, they have another potential witness as Cyborg happens to be walking by. (clever disguise, by the way)
Cyborg catches them on the way out. However…
(You do realize his cybernetic eye likely sees in the infrared spectrum, right? That smokescreen won’t stop him)
The thieves high-tail it out of there as Cyborg gives chase. That’s when the mysterious watcher gets involved.
Cyborg corners the thieves and the mysterious man on the giant playing card reveals himself.
Ace manages to subdue Cyborg long enough to grab the thieves and they fly off to…
…a giant house of cards. Ace then offers to mentor them, but first they need a change of clothing.
And of course, Ace christens them the Royal Flush Gang. Ace is then summoned and vanishes, reporting to another mysterious being in the shadows.
Now why does that silhouette seem familiar?
Later, Wonder Woman calls in to the Hall of Justice, reporting the Gang flying about in Metropolis. Superman and Firestorm fly to assist.
Unfortunately, this is the Superfriends Super Powers Team, not the Justice League, so they’re easily overpowered and captured.
Batman, Robin and Cyborg arrive a bit too late. However…
Batman manages to attach a Bat-Tracer (why isn’t it bat shaped?) to King’s card.
Once at the House of Cards, Ace uses a device to…
…transform them into playing cards (better than person-sized stamps, I guess) Ten then demands to know who’s behind all of this, and Ace is happy to show them!
I thought that shadow looked familiar! So Darkseid is financing the Royal Flush Gang to…?
Outside, Batman, Robin, and Cyborg have followed the Bat-Tracer to the House of Cards. Cyborg comments that it must have every card in the deck!
Then they spot a couple of Darkseid’s battle robots (since Children’s Programming Standards won’t let them punch Para-Demons) Cyborg wonders if Ace is Darkseid (with that physique? No way!)
Thanks for backing me up, Bats!
The Superfriends Super Powers Team make short work of the robots and Cyborg hacks the security system, allowing them to enter. Inside, more battle robots attack, but are quickly taken out.
Further within the House of Cards, Darkseid reveals his plan: capture the Superfriends Super Powers Team, so nothing stands in the way of his invasion of Earth!
Then Darkseid's son Kalibak arrives to announce that the House of Cards has been breached! Darkseid leaves to deal with the invaders. Then Ten expresses an issue with this partnership.
(Why is it always Ten that turns on the Gang if anyone does?)
That’s when the Super Powers Team shows up and makes quick work of the Royal Flush Gang. And Batman reveals who “Ace” actually is…
(NOTE: This episode marks the first and only time the Joker appears in Superfriends)
So Darkseid hired the Joker? Seriously? Scraping the bottom of the barrel a bit, aren’t you? Also, I’m not entirely sure why the Joker would team with Darkseid, since he out-and-out refused to work with a Nazi like the Red Skull in the comics.
(Thanks to Cracked)
Batman demands the Joker release the rest of the Team, but he refuses, trying to stall until Darkseid’s return. However…
I guess Ten really does want out! She starts to reverse the process, but is zapped from behind!
The Super Powers Team escape on the cards, but the Joker and what’s left of the Royal Flush Gang give chase. The chase leaves the House of Cards and into Apokolips. The Super Powers Team splits up. However…
Robin and Cyborg are quickly captured by Queen and the Joker, leaving Batman to face Jack and King.
…oops.
Upon their return to the House of Cards…
…with Ten getting her own card as well.
With the Super Powers Team dealt with (wait, what about the Flash? Green Lantern? Samurai? Black Vulcan? Hawkman?), Darkseid prepares his invasion! However…
It turns out Jack has returned to the House of Cards and has reversed the card-making device, freeing the Super Powers Team!
It turns out that Batman managed to subdue Jack earlier and switched costumes (wait, so does that mean Jack knows who Batman is?) King and Queen enter just in time to be made short work of.
Superman flies after the battle robots and melts them all with his heat vision.
With his invasion defeated, Darkseid knows exactly who to blame.
Darkseid throws the Joker through a Boom Tube and right into the arms of the Super Powers Team.
Roll credits!
Yes, this was the Silver Age version of the Joker…and yes, the writers were a bit hamstringed due to restrictions on violence…however, if they could make Scarecrow into a credible threat after his time in the Legion of Doom, they should’ve been able to do better for the Joker’s debut!
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Fun in the park, shirts, etc 27.7.2022
I wonder how many South Africans reading the above and remembering what they felt at the time about administrative detention feel about the above PF. I don't know how many there were in South Africa but I feel here that it has gone beyond the pale and shows how indiscriminate it is and how often just used to punish people and to try to deter others. And here too the principle, as it was in South Africa, is often imposed ….and I remember reading about the same thing in South Africa, that as the person steps out of the prison or his home and are free, another term of imprisonment is slapped on them.
There have also been cases of bus drivers refusing to let women on to buses because they are not "properly" dressed. I can only hope that they take the full details of the driver and that they sue the company. Some time ago, when I was at the checkpoint, I saw a Palestinian with a shirt on and with a logo of a rifle on it and thought to myself that he would have a problem going through and, sure enough, a few days later a little boy was divested of his shirt because of that. This week we had an example of what I always say. What happens in the occupied territories will spill over into Israel. A woman wearing a shirt on which was written, "Looking the occupation in the face" was stopped by a security guard and told that she could not go into the station or board the train as her shirt was provocative and would cause a disturbance. I think she was very brave to wear it as I am always careful when I go to a demonstration what shirt I am wearing. But it is her right to do so and he has not right to stop her. The power goes to the heads of all these guards who I don't think are chosen because of their IQS.
I have been rereading…or rather listening …to the "Old curiosity shop" by Dickens……I have often wondered why I did not go back to it as I have to most of his books….something in me stopped me. Listening to it now, I think that the characters in it are the most unpleasant than in any other of his books. And a strong invective of gambling. And I think I always remembered poor Nell and therefore as a child never wanted to read it again.
I went with a friend to a town near Jerusalem for coffee. There was a post in facebook about a Druze girl from Beit Jan who had opened a café in Mevaseret and had been attacked by hooligans on the right and people were asked to go and support her. It was a very pleasant little place. She has a lot of courage but must also be a most complicated girl. She said she has no connection with her family in the north and also that she has been in a depression for nearly 10 years and has regular sessions with a psychiatrist and came to Mevaseret because she knows people there. That the place of the café was a scrap heap and she rebuilt it. I wondered where on earth she had got the money for this but of course did not ask. While there a woman came in with the cutest dog and, as she was alone, and we were the only two people in the café, I asked if she would like to join us and she said yes but a friend would be joining her soon. Two very interesting women. I, of course, forget their names but the first one had a long career and she did mention that she worked on Wall Street. She must have made a packet there as she said she had a pool in her apartment!! I think she must have brought the whole of Wall Street with her
Every year in Jerusalem, Theatre in the Rough puts on a play in the park of Shakespeare. They move from place to place and you have to run after them. Not always the easiest for me as it is on grass but it is great fun and I think that whole of the English speaking population or at least a large proportion and it is over a good few days and, whenever I have been there, well attended. This year it was "The Merchant of Venice" which is a plat I always hated. I don't know if my memory plays me false, but I seem to remember being one of the few Jewish kids in the l class when we had to read the play at school. Not pleasant. My friend, Ellen, who is a guide, told me that she had a group which I think was from Algeria and was talking to their guide. She asked if they had many Jews there and he said, "Thankfully not." She asked if he knew any Jews personally and he again said no. But when she asked him why he disliked them, his reply was , "The Merchant of Venice." I told this to the group even though the discussion had been most about the text. I did not know if it was pertinent but it made a real stir in the room.
Video shows pair of assaults on Arabs by Jews in Jerusalem
Several suspects attack man in Mahane Yehuda market, as footage emerges of large Jewish group chasing after Arab supermarket worker, beating him
https://www.timesofisrael.com/video-shows-pair-of-assaults-on-arabs-by-jews-in-jerusalem/
Everything here is becoming more intense and more and more people are taking power into their hands, especially the security guards and bus drivers. Some bus drivers did not let women on to a bus as they felt that they were not dressed appropriately. I only hope that they had the presence of mind to take the details of the drivers and sue them and the company. Also 50 Palestinians were ordered off a bus because two religious passengers did not want to travel with them. Nazism is in full force here. But then there is also this…It also shows the level of intelligence of the security guard and also of the first policeman. Yesterday at Sheikh Jarrah I asked one of those wearing the shirt to bring one back for me even though personally, especially here in Jerusalem, I am a bit scared of wearing it. But one must not allow fear to stop one. There is too much escalation of the fascist element today. By the way, the other picture shows one of these young fascists wearing a shirt….and he will not be stopped anywhere…which says " A terrorist in the eye, a bullet in the head." You agree? But who knows when he will decide who a terrorist is. Maybe at some demonstration where to him even someone on the left is a terrorist.
A short story about your life that you won't hear in the media:
Yesterday around 9:00 a.m., at the Shalom train station,
Activists on their way back from the encampment of "Looking at the occupation with their eyes" were stopped at the entrance to the peace train station by a vigorous security guard at the Israel Railways service, who demanded that the activist not enter the train wearing the shirt of "Looking at the occupation with their eyes". on the pretext that the shirt could cause a provocation. The activist asked to see the procedures from here the situation quickly escalated and the security guard moved to physically attack the activist and immediately after that he moved even more aggressively to attack and choke the activist. Activists arrived quickly from the encampment to the station, some demonstrated outside the station and some demonstrated inside. The first police officer who arrived at the event and took testimony from the activists dispersed the demonstration inside the station and claimed that one should listen to the security guards and not enter the train with the shirt on. The activists insisted on not leaving the place and 2 police officers were invited who very quickly understood the situation and immediately gave an explicit order to let the activist get on the train. It turns out that the repressive regime that spilled into the borders of the Green Line needs lonely but sane officers who will understand that Israel is breathing its last breaths of democracy.
In the photos: dangerous shirts, against the background of the twilight of democracy at the peace station, in the next step it was promised that it would be arranged for a train to Europe by the state..
And just to show that I am not completely tied up in politics. Supper in East Jerusalem after the demonstration in Sheihk Jarrah when I met some friends afterwards to try out a restaurant which I had heard of
Signing off
natanya
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Jungkook: Hunt Me Down (6)
Humans are confusing creatures.
Tags/warnings: Alien!Jungkook, Human!Reader, deal with it, it's not Alcoria and not Prey oops, size difference because deal with it part 2, kook has a split tongue oops, also sharp teeth be careful cause he bites
Additional Chapter Warnings: sike.
Chapter length: mid size
<- Previous | Next ->
Shopping in human grocery stores again makes you feel oddly comforted.
You can read everything, know how most of the food tastes, even the mundane music in the background is familiar. And yet, despite all of that, you feel as if you're out of place.
Like something's missing.
And you notice pretty quickly why you feel like that. You catch yourself thinking how Jungkook would be able to easily look over all the shelves in the isles. How he could get you all those things you can't reach- how excited he would probably be about all those different foods and snacks he's probably never seen before.
It gets worse when you spot a young couple and a toddler- the woman clearly from Cepheid, holding onto her partner's hand while the toddler in the cart plays with a stuffed animal.
Would Jungkook be a good father one day? Does he even want kids at some point? Maybe he'd be more traditional, maybe he doesn't want to raise a kid himself. It's now that you realize how much by now he knows about you- but how little you know about him. He always listened to you during your dates and other occasions you'd meet, always soaked up every bit of information you'd give out to him.
Maybe he'll remember you next time you visit for Christmas at the end of the year- maybe you could bring a present from earth.
You're in front of your laptop on the couch, about to snooze off at the boring show you're watching wrapped up in a blanket, when your doorbell rings. Once, then twice, and after that you get up to open the door-
"This is very interesting. I like the security of this device a lot." Jungkook says, inspecting your electronic door lock with a slight pout. He's dressed casually- and his eyes sparkle a little as he looks down at you. "I just wanted to assure myself that this is the correct address. Your sister likes to make a fool out of me occasionally, which led to my trust in her becoming less over time." He says.
"I- what are you doing here?" You wonder, and he deflates a little, probably thinking the wrong thing.
"Did you not want to see me? I should have waited for your reply first, I'm very sorry for overstepping my boundaries-"He apologizes, already walking off when you call out to him.
"No no no I want you here, I'm just surprised!" You say, and he turns around. "Please come in. I'm sorry it came off weirdly-" you start, and he grins brightly, walking towards you with quick strides.
Inside your apartment, he seems a little out of place at first- remembering something it seems, as he slips out of his boots, placing them at your door before he takes off the heavy down jacket. "The climate is very cold here on earth." He comments, rubbing his arms a little- normal, since your open windows let in some air, and he's not used to cooler temperatures. After all, cepheid barely ever drops below 30 degrees. The current 21 in your apartment must feel like winter for him.
"Well, it's nighttime." You chuckle, throwing the blanket you've had wrapped around yourself into his arms. "And it's also March." You say, and he nods, wrapping the blanket over his shoulders.
"Ah yes, the calendar. I've read something about it but I don't remember all the months you use." He mumbles, sitting next to you on your small couch, curiously looking around. "It smells interesting in here." He notices, and you giggle.
"I've cooked an hour prior. You want some leftovers?" You ask, and his eyes widen in excitement- making you stand up to heat something up for him.
He tags along like a lost puppy into the kitchen, inspecting almost everything with interest. Most things are similar to what's used on cepheid- however, it's all a bit different, a little bit odd to him. Like the straight walls, the low ceiling, the mere fact that your apartment was so high up and even had a tiny balcony- things not common on cepheid. "I.. craved your presence." He starts, a little nervous it seems, as you take his food out of the microwave- beeping startling him a little.
"I missed you too." You say. "I.. I'm sorry I completely forgot about this all, and then I was gone, and then the days went by-" You ramble, until he hugs you from behind, chin resting on your shoulder.
"I'm not upset with you at all, if that is what worries you." He says. "I completely understand what had happened. After all, I have had the pleasure of getting to know you a little- I was not very surprised to find out that the date of your return to earth had slipped your mind." He chuckles. "Your mind does not work very efficiently sometimes."
"Thanks I guess." You mock, though you smile, leaning into him a little. "Do you.. will you stay overnight?" You ask.
"I did not bring any necessities for that. I was unprepared for your invitation if I'm being honest." He says. "So I am unsure."
"I mean, I don't have any clothes that could fit you- you say. "But I mean, I wouldn't mind you staying.."
"Are you inviting me into your resting place?" He asks impishly, and you hit his shoulder a bit playfully, making him laugh under his breath a little. "I will not turn down that offer if it is one, by the way." He tells you. "Though I must warn you- if you leave the windows opened, the cold temperature might lead to me seeking your warmth in my slumber." He warns, and you blink once, twice-
Before you laugh. "Dont worry-" you say, putting cutlery next to his bowl of food. "-I don't mind you cuddling."
And he smiles too- brightly so.
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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
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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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How to Write Indigenous Characters Without Looking like a Jackass:
Update as of December 26th, 2020: I have added a couple new sections about naming and legal terms, as well as a bit of reading on the Cherokee Princess phenomenon.
Boozhoo (hello) Fallout fandom! I'm a card-carrying Anishinaabe delivering this rough guide about writing Indigenous characters because wow, do I see a lot of shit.
Let's get something out of the way first: Fallout's portrayal of Indigenous people is racist. From a vague definition of "tribal" to the claims of them being "savage" and "uncivilized" mirror real-world stereotypes used to dehumanize us. Fallout New Vegas' narrated intro has Ron Perlman saying Mr. House "rehabilitated" tribals to create New Vegas' Three Families. You know. Rehabilitate. As if we are animals. Top it off with an erasure of Indigenous people in the American Southwest and no real tribe names, and you've got some pretty shitty representation. The absence of Native American as a race option in the GECK isn't too great, given that two Native characters are marked "Caucasian" despite being brown. Butch Deloria is a pretty well-known example of this effect. (Addendum: Indigenous people can have any mix of dominant and recessive traits, as well as present different phenotypes. What bothers me is it doesn't accommodate us or mixed people, which is another post entirely.)
As a precautionary warning: this post and the sources linked will discuss racism and genocide. There will also be discussion of multiple kinds of abuse.
Now, your best approach will be to pick a nation or tribe and research them. However, what follows will be general references.
Terms that may come up in your research include Aboriginal/Native Canadian, American Indian/Native American, Inuit, Métis, and Mestizo. The latter two refer to cultural groups created after the discovery of the so-called New World. (Addendum made September 5th, 2020: Mestizo has negative connotations and originally meant "half breed" so stick with referring to your mixed Latine and Indigenous characters as mixed Indigenous or simply by the name of their people [Maya, Nahua].)
As a note, not every mixed person is Métis or Mestizo. If you are, say, Serbian and Anishinaabe, you would be mixed, but not Métis (the big M is important here, as it refers to a specific culture). Even the most liberal definition caps off at French and British ancestry alongside Indigenous (some say Scottish and English). Mestizo works the same, since it refers to descendants of Spanish conquistadors/settlers and Indigenous people.
Trouble figuring out whose land is where? No problem, check out this map.
Drawing
Don't draw us with red skin. It's offensive and stereotypical.
Tutorial for Native Skintones
Tutorial for Mixed Native Skintones
Why Many Natives Have Long Hair (this would technically fit better under another category, but give your Native men long hair!)
If You're Including Traditional Wear, Research! It's Out There
Languages
Remember, there are a variety of languages spoken by Indigenous people today. No two tribes will speak the same language, though there are some that are close and may have loan words from each other (Cree and Anishinaabemowin come to mind). Make sure your Diné (you may know them as Navajo) character doesn't start dropping Cree words.
Here's a Site With a Map and Voice Clips
Here's an Extensive List of Amerindian Languages
Keep in mind there are some sounds that have no direct English equivalents. But while we're at it, remember a lot of us speak English, French, Spanish, or Portuguese. The languages of the countries that colonized us.
Words in Amerindian languages tend to be longer than English ones and are in the format of prefix + verb + suffix to get concepts across. Gaawiin miskwaasinoon is a complete sentence in Anishinaabemowin, for example (it is not red).
Names
Surprisingly, we don't have names like Passing Dawn or Two-Bears-High-Fiving in real life. A lot of us have, for lack of better phrasing, white people names. We may have family traditions of passing a name down from generation to generation (I am the fourth person in my maternal line to have my middle name), but not everyone is going to do that. If you do opt for a name from a specific tribe, make sure you haven't chosen a last name from another tribe.
Baby name sites aren't reliable, because most of the names on there will be made up by people who aren't Indigenous. That site does list some notable exceptions and debunks misconceptions.
Here's a list of last names from the American census.
Indian Names
You may also hear "spirit names" because that's what they are for. You know the sort of mystical nature-related name getting slapped on an Indigenous character? Let's dive into that for a moment.
The concept of a spirit name seems to have gotten mistranslated at some point in time. It is the name Creator calls you throughout all your time both here and in the spirit world. These names are given (note the word usage) to you in a ceremony performed by an elder. This is not done lightly.
A lot of imitations of this end up sounding strange because they don't follow traditional guidelines. (I realize this has spread out of the original circle, but Fallout fans may recall other characters in Honest Hearts and mods that do this. They have really weird and racist results.)
If you're not Indigenous: don't try this. You will be wrong.
Legal Terms
Now, sometimes the legal term (or terms) for a tribe may not be what they refer to themselves as. A really great example of this would be the Oceti Sakowin and "Sioux". How did that happen, you might be wondering. Smoky Mountain News has an article about this word and others, including the history of these terms.
For the most accurate information, you are best off having your character refer to themselves by the name their nation uses outside of legislation. A band name would be pretty good for this (Oglala Lakota, for example). I personally refer to myself by my band.
Cowboys
And something the Fallout New Vegas fans might be interested in, cowboys! Here's a link to a post with several books about Black and Indigenous cowboys in the Wild West.
Representation: Stereotypes and Critical Thought
Now, you'll need to think critically about why you want to write your Indigenous character a certain way. Here is a comprehensive post about stereotypes versus nuance.
Familiarize yourself with tropes. The Magical Indian is a pretty prominent one, with lots of shaman-type characters in movies and television shows. This post touches on its sister tropes (The Magical Asian and The Magical Negro), but is primarily about the latter.
Say you want to write an Indigenous woman. Awesome! Characters I love to see. Just make sure you're aware of the stereotypes surrounding her and other Women of Color.
Word to the wise: do not make your Indigenous character an alcoholic. "What, so they can't even drink?" You might be asking. That is not what I'm saying. There is a pervasive stereotype about Drunk Indians, painting a reaction to trauma as an inherent genetic failing, as stated in this piece about Indigenous social worker Jessica Elm's research. The same goes for drugs. Ellen Deloria is an example of this stereotype.
Familiarize yourself with and avoid the Noble Savage trope. This was used to dehumanize us and paint us as "childlike" for the sake of a plot device. It unfortunately persists today.
Casinos are one of the few ways for tribes to make money so they can build homes and maintain roads. However, some are planning on diversifying into other business ventures.
There's a stereotype where we all live off government handouts. Buddy, some of these long-term boil water advisories have been in place for over twenty years. The funding allocated to us as a percentage is 0.39%: less than half a percent to fight the coronavirus. They don't give us money.
"But what about people claiming to be descended from a Cherokee princess?" Cherokee don't and never had anything resembling princesses. White southerners made that up prior to the Civil War. As the article mentions, they fancied themselves "defending their lands as the Indians did".
Also, don't make your Indigenous character a cannibal. Cannibalism is a serious taboo in a lot of our cultures, particularly northern ones.
Our lands are not cursed. We don't have a litany of curses to cast on white people in found footage films. Seriously. We have better things to be doing. Why on earth would our ancestors be haunting you when they could be with their families? Very egotistical assumption.
Indigenous Ties and Blood Quantum
Blood quantum is a colonial system that was initially designed to "breed out the Indian" in people. To dilute our bloodlines until we assimilated properly into white society. NPR has an article on it here.
However, this isn't how a vast majority of us define our identities. What makes us Indigenous is our connections (or reconnection) to our families, tribes, bands, clans, and communities.
Blood quantum has also historically been used to exclude Black Natives from tribal enrollment, given that it was first based on appearance. So, if you looked Black and not the image of "Indian" the white census taker had in his brain, you were excluded and so were your descendants.
Here are two tumblrs that talk about Black Indigenous issues and their perspectives. They also talk about Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people of Australia.
However, if you aren't Indigenous, don't bring up blood quantum. Don't. This is an issue you should not be speaking about.
Cherokee Princess Myth
"Princess" was not a real position in any tribe. The European idea of monarchy did not suddenly manifest somewhere else. The closest probable approximation may have been the daughter of a chief or other politically prominent person. But princess? No.
Here is an article talking about possible origins of this myth. Several things are of note here: women from other tribes may have bee shoved under this label and the idea of a "Cherokee Princess" had been brought up to explain the sudden appearance of a brown-skinned (read: half Black) family member.
For a somewhat more in depth discussion of why, specifically, this myth gets touted around so often, Timeline has this piece.
Religion
Our religions are closed. We are not going to tell you how we worship. Mostly because every little bit we choose to share gets appropriated. Smudging is the most recent example. If you aren't Indigenous, that's smoke cleansing. Smudging is done in a specific way with ceremonies and prayers.
Now, a lot of us were forcibly converted. Every residential school was run by Christians. So plenty of us are Catholic, Baptist, Anglican, Lutheran, etc. Catholicism in Latin America also has influence from the Indigenous religions in that region.
Having your Indigenous character pray or carry rosaries wouldn't be a bad thing, if that religion was important to them. Even if they are atheist, if they lived outside of a reserve or other Indigenous communities, they might have Christian influences due to its domination of the Western world.
Settler Colonialism and the White Savior Trope
Now we've come to our most painful section yet. Fallout unintentionally has an excellent agent of settler-colonialism, in particular the Western Christian European variety, in Caesar's Legion and Joshua Graham.
(Addendum: Honest Hearts is extremely offensive in its portrayal of Indigenous people, and egregiously shows a white man needing to "civilize" tribals and having to teach them basic skills. These skills include cooking, finding safe water, and defending themselves from other tribes.)
Before we dive in, here is a post explaining the concept of cultural Christianity, if you are unfamiliar with it.
We also need to familiarize ourselves with The White Man's Burden. While the poem was written regarding the American-Philippine war, it still captures the attitudes toward Indigenous folks all over the world at the time.
As this article in Teen Vogue points out, white people like to believe they need to save People of Color. You don't need to. People of Color can save themselves.
Now, cultural Christianity isn't alone on this side of the pond. Writer Teju Cole authored a piece on the White Savior Industrial Complex to describe mission trips undertaken by white missionaries to Africa to feed their egos.
Colonialism has always been about the acquisition of wealth. To share a quote from this paper about the ongoing genocide of Indigenous peoples: "Negatively, [settler colonialism] strives for the dissolution of native societies. Positively, it erects a new colonial society on the expropriated land base—as I put it, settler colonizers come to stay: invasion is a structure not an event. In its positive aspect, elimination is an organizing principal of settler-colonial society rather than a one-off (and superseded) occurrence. The positive outcomes of the logic of elimination can include officially encouraged miscegenation, the breaking-down of native title into alienable individual freeholds, native citizenship, child abduction, religious conversion, resocialization in total institutions such as missions or boarding schools, and a whole range of cognate biocultural assimilations. All these strategies, including frontier homicide, are characteristic of settler colonialism. Some of them are more controversial in genocide studies than others." (Positive, here, is referring to "benefits" for the colonizers. Indigenous people don't consider colonization beneficial.)
An example of a non-benefit, the Church Rock disaster had Diné children playing in radioactive water so the company involved could avoid bad publicity.
Moving on, don't sterilize your Indigenous people. Sterilization, particularly when it is done without consent, has long been used as a tool by the white system to prevent "undesirables" (read, People of Color and disabled people) from having children. Somehow, as of 2018, it wasn't officially considered a crime.
The goal of colonization was to eliminate us entirely. Millions died because of exposure to European diseases. Settlers used to and still do separate our children from us for reasons so small as having a dirty dish in the sink. You read that right, a single dirty dish in your kitchen sink was enough to get your children taken and adopted out to white families. This information was told to me by an Indigenous social work student whose name I will keep anonymous.
It wasn't until recently they made amendments to the Indian Act that wouldn't automatically render Indigenous women non-status if they married someone not Indigenous. It also took much too long for Indigenous families to take priority in child placement over white ones. Canada used to adopt Indigenous out to white American families. The source for that statement is further down, but adoption has been used as a tool to destroy cultures.
I am also begging you to cast aside whatever colonialist systems have told you about us. We are alive. People with a past, not people of the past, which was wonderfully said here by Frank Waln.
Topics to Avoid if You Aren't Indigenous
Child Separation. Just don't. We deserve to remain with our families and our communities. Let us stay together and be happy that way.
Assimilation schools. Do not bring up a tool for cultural genocide that has left lasting trauma in our communities.
W/ndigos. I don't care that they're in Fallout 76. They shouldn't be. Besides, you never get them right anyway.
Sk/nwalkers. Absolutely do not. Diné stories are not your playthings either.
I've already talked about drugs and alcohol. Do your research with compassion and empathy in mind. Indigenous people have a lot of pain and generational trauma. You will need to be extremely careful having your Indigenous characters use drugs and alcohol. If your character can be reduced to their (possible) substance abuse issues, you need to step back and rework it. As mentioned in Jessica Elm's research, remember that it isn't inherent to us.
For our final note: remember that we're complex, autonomous human beings. Don't use our deaths to further the stories of your white characters. Don't reduce us to some childlike thing that needs to be raised and civilized by white characters. We interact with society a little differently than you do, but we interact nonetheless.
Meegwetch (thank you) for reading! Remember to do your research and portray us well, but also back off when you are told by an Indigenous person.
This may be updated in the future, it depends on what information I come across or, if other Indigenous people are so inclined, what is added to this post.
#fallout 3#fallout 4#fallout 76#fallout new vegas#fallout 1#fallout 2#fallout: new vegas#ozhibii'ige
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What I Missed - Loki Laufeyson
summary: while in custody at the TVA, loki realizes what he misses from the future, only to be surprised by what he gets in the present
word count: 2100+
warnings: a little angsty, a little emotional, mention of loki’s death, episode 1 spoilers
Today was certainly not Loki’s day.
Over the course of a few hours (or more, or less, this is the TVA, afterall) he had been in the custody of the Avengers, had happened upon the Tesseract and escaped from New York. It seemed too good to be true, and it was. Just when he thought he had truly outsmarted the Earthly heroes again, he was imprisoned and taken again.
Now here he was, under the supervision of the Time Variance Authority and one, Mobius, a bizarre administrator in charge of tracking down the most dangerous of variants. It all seemed like madness to Loki. He was used to silly games and grandiose tricks but this story of timelines and space lizards seemed beyond even his own trickery. It seemed downright absurd. And annoying.
He had been subject to what he would call an interrogation. Mobius, however, called it a simple conversation. A slideshow of his life, his “greatest hits” as Mobius had called it and a relentless fire of questions, the memory of which continued to burn in his memory:
Should you return, what are you going to do?
King of Midgard? Then what, happily ever after?
King of Space?
Why does someone with so much capability just want to rule?
Do you enjoy hurting people?
That one had burned most of all. Did he enjoy hurting people? Hardly. And it was upsetting to him that anyone would think that. But he also understood what he appeared to be to every other living creature. He had just relived the moment in which he killed that daft agent and his mother. His mother. He refused to believe he was at fault for that. Frigga was the only person who truly saw him and whom Loki cared for deeply. But it seemed so clear in the moving picture, he had led them right to her.
It was in that moment, with tears and rage in his eyes, he knew he needed to get out of the disastrous time circus. He no longer cared to be a monkey in this ring. If he could find the tesseract, he could escape and be free once again.
That plan had gone almost perfectly. The only thing that went wrong - there is no magic in the TVA. No matter how many times he held the tesseract in his hands, wishing it to take him back to Midgard or Asgard, he was met with nothing but the bland walls in this TVA Time Theater. There was no hope in escaping.
Feeling exhausted, Loki slowly moves toward the table in the center of the room. He sits down and admires the machine in front of him. As grim as the stories it held could be, it was still quite fascinating that it could replay the highlights from his life - in a weird way, at least. He reaches out and turns the knob, searching for the moment his mother dies. He finds it and watches in silence for a while, tears beginning to fall down his face.
He turns the knob again.
He sees a future version of himself sitting next to his father and Thor. He watches as his father declares his love for his sons. Sons, plural. Both Thor and him. A small smile graces Loki’s face before Odin disappears, leaving the two men behind. Loki holds back a sob as tears continue to flood from his eyes. His father did love him, did see purpose for him. He wasn’t just the mischievous son. He’s sad that it took this long to understand that, and sad that he never got to experience this himself, even if a future version of him did.
Another turn of the knob.
This scene immediately feels different. He sees a garden, full of life, beautiful flowers blooming in every direction. He sees himself, sitting under a tree smiling next to a young woman. As the scene progresses he realizes this version of him is smiling at you. He lets out a small gasp when he watches the pair share a kiss and wipes the quickly falling tears from his cheeks. He had always loved you, but had never gotten the chance to tell you. The two of you had met through Thor, when he brought both you and Jane to Asgard. He had taken to you quickly, enjoying your similar sarcasm and humor - something that was scarce within his home realm. You, like his mother, had always seen the good in him and had understood his struggle. It was something he would never understand, you being of Midgard. You knew what he had done and had been there to see the destruction, but still saw him not as the God of Mischief or Earth Enemy #1, only Loki. He aches for the fact that he never got to feel the happiness his future self did, especially when it was happiness with you.
Turn the knob.
Loki and Thor stand in a room together. Loki lets out a small laugh in the midst of his tears, wondering how his oaf of a brother managed to lose an eye. Maybe a dumb bet between the two of them, maybe there was a battle amongst the nine realms. He’s quickly pulled from his thoughts as he hears Thor speak.
“Maybe you’re not so bad after all, brother.”
“Maybe not,” the future Loki responds.
“Thank you,” Thor replies, “If you were here, I might even give you a hug.”
“I’m here.”
Loki smiles and nods to himself. From where he’s sitting now, it’s a wonder that he and his brother ever made up. He realizes now that the fighting and the sibling rivalry may have all been in his head. He, again, curses himself for leaving New York and allowing himself to miss these moments that he’s been waiting his whole life for.
Fast-forward.
He and you lay in a room, seemingly on the same ship as the previous scene. You lay snug against his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around you. You hum softly before speaking up.
“I love you, you know.”
By the look on both of your faces, it’s the first time this has been said out loud. There’s nervous tension in the room, Loki can feel it through this screen. He somehow knows the words his future self is going to say before he hears them.
“I love you too, darling. You bring out the best in me.”
You snuggle closer to him, if that’s even possible, and there’s a comfortable silence for a few seconds. Loki takes a moment to admire this picture. It was something he had wanted since he had first met you on Asgard. You had stuck out like a sore thumb, dressed in your casual Midgardian clothes. He couldn’t have missed you even if he tried, nobody could have. And boy was he glad about that now.
“Promise me something,” he watches himself say.
“Anything,” you whisper. “Anything for you, Loki.”
“Promise me, no matter what, you’ll always help me see the good in myself. I’ve too long suffered at the hands of those who desperately wish for me to see the bad.”
You let out a laugh and the Loki stuck in time laughs with you, “Oh, Loki. I wish you could see yourself as I see you. But I promise.”
“Thank you, my love.”
“You, Loki, may be a God, but you will always just be the man I fell in love with. The good, kind, and honorable man I call mine.”
Turn, again.
Loki sees himself kneeling and before he can question why, he watches as his future self moves to attack someone in front of him. When Loki realizes it's Thanos, he’s quickly on his feet, moving closer to the screen. The tears are gone now, and a silent rage burns behind his eyes. There was nothing from Loki but hate for the purple titan. He watches in horror as Thanos picks Loki up from the floor, a death grip on his neck. Loki wonders to himself how he would get himself out of this scenario had he been there. He assumes an illusion would do the trick. However, he notices your distraught figure behind the mad titan. He can hear your screams as you kneel next to Thor, who is imprisoned in cuffs. He hears you call out to him and he knows this will not end well. His suspicions are right when he watches his death. A shocked gasp comes from his throat as the tape in front of him runs out, nothing left to show.
Loki quickly sits back down and closes his eyes, trying his hardest to process the vision he saw. To one version of him, these would have been experiences and now memories. To him, though, these were all subtle tastes of a life he lost. He lost a touching moment with his father and a long awaited declaration of love from him. He lost the reconciliation with his brother and the confession that they had been more partners than rivals. Even though to him it had not yet happened, he missed it all, and it upset him deeply.
What hurt Loki the most was the idea that he lost his chance to feel his love reciprocated. Loki had never had much luck with romance. He was often seen as the sly younger brother and was usually too occupied to try and compete with Thor for the maidens at court. When he met you, he thought he had a chance. You were the first woman who saw him as his own person and not just as Thor’s brother. The relationship between the two of you had blossomed quickly and he found himself always sneaking away from his princely duties to see you. He had shown you his favorite places in Asgard and had opened up to you in ways he had never done before. He loved you and wanted you to be his. His one regret was not initiating a relationship before you had left for Midgard. And he thought his chances had been ruined by his actions in New York. Oh, how wrong he was.
Before Loki can dwell on his future more, Mobius comes bursting into the room.
“Ah Loki, glad you made your way back here. I have something for you,” he says.
“If this is another one of your tricks, I’m not currently in the mood,” Loki responds coolly.
“Just trust me on this one.”
Mobius shouts over his shoulder for someone to “bring her in.” Loki eyes the guards who walk in suspiciously until he notices who they bring with them. He can hardly believe his eyes. The gods in all the realms must be smiling down on him today, after all, because there you stand. He takes in your hideous red and white space suit, emblazoned with the Avengers logo, and he’s at least thankful he missed whatever battle this suit was required for.
He quickly stands and rushes over to you, a smile quickly gracing his face. You meet his gaze with a smile that is just as big and tears begin to flow from your eyes.
“Loki,’ you start. “Is that really you?”
He nods and speaks, although his words are barely audible, “It’s me, my love.”
“God, I thought I lost you forever. That’s why I went back in time to find you.”
Loki nods, now, unable to believe what he’s hearing, “You went back to find me?”
“Yes, but look what good that did me,” you say with a smirk. Loki’s heart pulls and he feels he could fall over right there. Norns, he missed you and your witty humor.
“Well,” he says, reciprocating your sly attitude, “You found me did you not? I might not be the same Loki as you knew, but I am still Loki.”
“The good, kind, and honorable Loki that I call mine.”
Loki smiles and you move forward to give him a hug. You’re cautious, though, because you aren’t exactly sure what part of the timeline this Loki came from. Maybe you had already been dating, maybe not. That was something to figure out another time though.
“Alright then,” Mobius says from behind you, “Let’s get you two caught up on what you missed with each other.”
Today was certainly not Loki’s day. And he had cursed all that was good that he had ended up at the TVA, taken from the life he knew. But now? He didn’t mind. He knew the relationships that were broken with his brother and father had been mended, he knew that one version of him had sacrificed himself for good and he had you, not only in memory but in the flesh. And sure, you had lots to rediscover within your relationship, but you would do that together.
#loki imagine#loki oneshot#loki x reader#loki laufeyson imagine#loki laufeyson oneshot#loki laufeyson x reader#loki series#marvel imagine#marvel oneshot#marvel x reader#loki x you#loki laufeyson x you#loki x y/n
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The Wrong Lifetime – One // Wanda Maximoff
story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | chapter two
author’s note: here’s the long-awaited first chapter! i do hope you all enjoy!
Also a quick one – Y/B/N = your brother’s name, Y/M/N = your mother’s name and Y/D/N = your dad’s name
"You move anymore and you're gonna hit a waiter."
I gave my brother a disapproving look as he grinned at my dismay. "Easy for you to say. You're wearing a suit and not a dress that's heavier than your body."
He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and squeezed it gently. "Y/N, you complain too much. Look where we are! You need to learn to enjoy yourself."
Taking a look around the room, I saw a hall filled with people I didn't know mingling with one another. Flutes of champagne were on almost every hand and laughter filled the air as everybody enjoyed their evening, soaking in the luxuries of a ball somebody I didn't know was hosting. Orchestral music was drowned out by conversations and servers moved through the hall like mice, scuttling around and constantly topping up champagne. I wasn't a fan, as usual.
"Are you both ready? Your father is bringing the Maximoffs here any second," my mother's voice grabbed my attention. "Y/N, at least try to look happy to be here."
I forced a smile, making her give me a knowing look before looking to my brother and fixing his tie.
"You both know how important this is," she told us for the millionth time, fussing over my brother's appearance. "They're expecting–"
"Well-behaved, respectful individuals," I finished for her. "We know, mum. You've told us only a gazillion times."
She pressed her lips together, hands on her hips as her eyes fell to me, displeased. "If this engagement is to go as planned, I need you on your best behaviour."
"I'm always on my best behaviour," I reassured her. "But okay. I'll lighten up."
"Thank you," she said with a grateful smile, before glancing over her shoulder. "Okay. Here they come. Smiles, please."
My brother looked to me, showing me his teeth. "Is there anything in my teeth?"
I cracked a smile to make myself feel better. "Gums."
He gave me a disappointed look. "You know men don't like women who are smart arses."
I rolled my eyes at his comment, knowing men didn't like women who didn't like men. But, of course, I didn't say that.
All her and my dad had been talking about for the past few weeks was this engagement. My brother, a very successful author, was to be engaged to his publisher's twin sister, some girl called Wanda. The Maximoffs were an esteemed family and their unification with ours was in everyone's best interests, especially my brother's who was one of the most eligible bachelors in the city.
I didn't know much about the Maximoffs, only that their son and my brother's 'boss', if you will, Pietro, ran a successful publishing house. It had been in their family name since their parents emigrated to England from Sokovia when Pietro and Wanda were children. They'd built themselves up from nothing and were now high members of society, the perfect family to be involved with.
Y/B/N was to be engaged to Wanda, their daughter, since she was getting to that age where they wanted to find someone for her. My brother's name was put into the mix when Pietro recommended him and the rest was history.
Tonight was the first unofficial meeting with them and my mother had been nonstop lecturing me on the dos and don't's of how to act, as if I was a child that couldn’t behave. Of course, it was only a mere greeting. The true engagement was to be proposed tomorrow night, but that didn't matter to my fussy mother who was insistent on making a good impression.
I found myself straightening up and pressing my hands down my dress to rid it of creases as my brother adjusted his blazer. The Maximoffs were being led our way by my father, the four of them all with smiles on their lips and flutes of champagne in their hands.
"Dear, I would like to introduce you to Mr and Mrs Maximoff and their lovely children, Pietro and Wanda," my dad introduced, stopping before us, before looking to the Maximoffs. "This is my family. My wife, Y/M/N, and my children, Y/N and Y/B/N."
"Please, call me Oleg and my wife Iryna," the twins' father, Oleg, said with a kind smile. He held out his hand to my mother, adding, "It's a pleasure, Y/M/N."
They shook hands and then looked to my brother and I, exchanging quick greetings with us. As they were saying something to my brother, probably gushing over his writing as everyone did, I took a look at the quiet twins behind them.
I vaguely recognised the guy and his striking silver hair from my brother's work, knowing he was Pietro. But I'd never seen the girl before and knew immediately that if I had, I wouldn't forget her face. She was stunning, it didn't take a genius to see that. But not the stunning that you glanced once at and forgot about. No, she was the stunning that knocked the breath out of you and made you forget what your name was.
"...lovely to meet you again!" my brother was saying all the right things to impress his soon-to-be in-laws, but it went over me as I found myself unable to tear my gaze from this mystery woman.
Further introductions went on in the background, before the green eyes I was so enthralled with were looking my way, making me blink suddenly. I instantly looked away, afraid I'd been caught, and zoned back into the conversation that was taking place.
"It's great to finally put a name to a face," the girl, Wanda, was saying to my brother with a honey sweet smile and sultry Russian-accented voice, and judging by his expression, he was just as caught up in her beauty as I was. "I look forward to getting to know you more."
"And I you," he returned with his signature grin.
Her eyes fell to mine once again, lips curving into an amused smile. "And of course, Y/B/N's beautiful sister, Y/N. How lucky a man he must be to have a sister as stunning as you."
The others chuckled, clearly taken by Wanda's smooth way with words. In their eyes, it was flattery at its finest. After all, she was to be welcomed into our family and sucking up to the sister was the best way forward. But I guess, I'd like to believe that there was some truth to her words as her entrancing green eyes sparkled with delight.
"You don't need to win over my sister to get on my good side," Y/B/N joked before I could speak, stealing Wanda's attention away momentarily.
She suppressed a laugh, tilting her head as she studied him with an unreadable expression, before looking to me with curious eyes.
"Thank you for your kind words, Wanda," I finally said to her, offering a small smile.
"Anytime," she quipped, biting her lip to contain her smile.
It was oh so wrong of me to even slightly check her out as she did, knowing that it was not only inappropriate since she was to be my brother's bride, but also wrong since she was a girl and I wasn't supposed to do this. A heat crept up neck as I avoided her teasing gaze, wondering if she knew what she was doing or if she was just a naturally flirty person.
"I'm Pietro," her brother spoke, making me look up again. He was directing a charming smile my way as he continued, "It's an honour to finally meet my best author's younger sister."
I put out my hand for him to shake, but he simply grabbed it and pressed a gentle kiss to the top. I flushed at the contact, a nervous smile on my lips.
"Er, it's nice to meet you, too, Pietro," I returned, subtly wiping my hand when he let go of it.
The twins stood side by side, smiling our way, and I realised just why all the chatter in our social circles revolved around them. Charming, distinguished, good-looking – they were the whole package.
Our parents continued to talk, catching up and talking about stuff I didn't care much for. Every now and then, Y/B/N would chime in if a question was directed his way, or Pietro would add his two cents, or Wanda would say something funny, and I would pretend to get along with all of them when I so desperately wished to go home and go to sleep.
Admittedly, my eyes veered over to my soon-to-be sister-in-law every now and then, unable to look away. She was drop dead gorgeous, with bright hazel eyes that looked green like the earth at this moment, and long brown hair that was pulled back out of her face, revealing her charming smile. Sometimes, when she would smile really widely, a dimple would expose itself on her left cheek at the corner of her mouth, and I was sure that nothing else was cuter than that. Y/B/N was one lucky man.
"...would love for you all to come to our home tomorrow evening for dinner," my father was inviting them all over, bringing me back to reality. "It'll be a great way to get to know each other in a more intimate setting. And it'll give the kids a better chance to get to know each other."
Iryna smiled brightly. "We would love to, Y/D/N. Tomorrow evening is great."
"Perfect," my mum said excitedly. "We'll see you all then."
"Do enjoy the rest of your evening," Oleg said, looking to us all, before looking to my brother. "And Y/B/N, it was good to meet you tonight. I look forward to seeing you again tomorrow."
"You, too, sir," Y/B/N said, shaking his hand with a smile. "I'll see you tomorrow."
Oleg and Iryna gave us all a smile before turning to leave. Pietro and Wanda did the same, though when Wanda's eyes flickered to mine, she waved her fingers slowly and with a playful smile on her lips. My mouth opened slightly, unsure what to do or say, but nobody seemed to notice as she turned and left, leaving me standing there with confusion.
"Well, I think that went well," my mum said, and I tore my gaze from Wanda's retreating form. "Couldn't have gone better actually."
"I agree," my dad said, wrapping an arm around my mum's waist with a smile. "Tomorrow night will be splendid." He looked to Y/B/N. "What did you think of Wanda, son?"
Y/B/N looked like he was on top of the world with his love struck smile and relaxed posture. "She's beautiful. And did you hear that accent? Wonderful."
My mother chuckled. "How sweet. You're already smitten."
"What did you think of her, Y/N?" my brother asked, and all eyes fell to me.
I straightened up. "Oh, I– er– she's very nice. A beautiful young woman."
"Right?" he said in agreement. "I feel like she really likes you, too. How cool is that? You guys can become friends and be, like, close sister-in-laws."
I forced a small smile. "Yeah. Something like that."
Of course, for everyone's benefit, getting along with Wanda Maximoff was the best bet. But something about her was different and I was yet to discover what.
—
The following evening was when we saw the Maximoffs next. As invited, they turned up at our front door dressed less glamorously than last night, given the occasion, but appearing just as excited. Our servants were quick to take their jackets and hang them up elsewhere as we exchanged greetings in the hall.
The Maximoff parents were genuinely kind and humbling people to be around, I'd come to learn that when they thanked our servants for their help and asked them how their day was, making friendly chatter. Not many people did that when entering our home – it was certainly refreshing to see. They greeted Y/B/N and I kindly before moving onto our parents.
The Maximoff children were just as kind, though with a hint of mischief in their stride as they moved to greet my brother and I. Pietro approached me first, lips pulling into a smile as he bowed playfully. In the corner of my eye, I could see Wanda and Y/B/N exchanging greetings.
"It's a pleasure to be in your presence yet again, Y/N," Pietro said generously. "You look lovely this evening."
A smile appeared on my lips at his kind eyes. "Thank you, Pietro. You look very handsome this evening also."
"Apparently it's lamb for dinner, is that true?" he asked, taking me by surprise. I wasn't sure if he was serious, but when his sister slapped him on the arm, I figured he was.
"Don't be greedy, Piet," she scolded him like this was a regular thing.
"What? It was a simple question," he said with a shrug, before looking to my brother with a grin. "Ah, Y/B/N Y/L/N, my favourite writer."
As he moved over to greet him, Wanda looked over to me with a knowing smile.
"It's good to see you again," she said softly, maintaining eye contact.
"You, too," I played along with whatever was happening, the usual script at a time like this. "I'm sure tonight will be something special for you and my brother. It's good to have you here."
She tilted her head intimidatingly. "Bol'shoye tebe spasibo."
I raised my eyebrows, intrigued by her ability to change languages so smoothly. Though, it made sense since she was Sokovian, making Russian her first language. Didn't make it any easier to not be attracted to though.
"I'm sorry," I apologised. disguising my attraction with genuine confusion. "What does that mean?"
She smiled, a hint of smugness present as she answered, "Thank you very much. That's what it means."
I pressed my lips together, humming in response. She held my gaze for a second longer than usual and I wanted to look away, but I was drawn in by the beautiful golden flecks swirled into her irises, captivating and chilling all at once. She didn't seem uncomfortable with the eye contact, instead revelling in it with a content smirk when she saw me squirm. I ended up looking away first, unable to hold a pretty girl's gaze for more than a few seconds without panicking.
"I have something to show you!" my brother was saying excitedly to Pietro. "It's in my study, c'mon."
The two of them wandered off before my mum could stop them.
"Don't be too long, boys!" she called after them, before sighing and looking to Wanda and I. "Y/N, dear, why don't you show Wanda around upstairs, maybe? Hopefully the boys should be back after that and we can all eat dinner together."
I swallowed hard, glancing at a still-smirking Wanda, before looking back to my mum. "Erm, are you sure?"
"Yes, yes, go on, it'll give you ladies a chance to get to know each other better!" she insisted, before ushering me away. "Don't take too long though. Dinner will be ready soon."
Licking my lips nervously, I nodded, watching my mum return to the conversation my dad and Wanda's parents were having. They were led into the living room as Wanda and I were left standing in the hall, her waiting for me to say something.
"This way, I guess," I got out awkwardly, purposely avoiding her eyes as I motioned to the grand staircase.
"After you," she said politely, and I said nothing as I took the lead.
I ended up showing her around the upstairs rooms, including the library we had and the many guest rooms. It was a big home with lots to show for it, so the tour wasn't too boring.
Wanda stayed quiet throughout it, sometimes dropping in a comment or question every now and then, but otherwise listening intently as I explained everything as interestingly as I could. When she did speak, she would leave me fumbling for words or forgetting how to speak altogether. I wondered if she was teasing me on purpose, wanting to get a rise out of her soon-to-be sister-in-law, or if she just wasn't aware of what she was doing.
But every time her mischievous gaze fell to me with a matching smile, I knew that she had to be aware of her actions. Nobody was that teasing without wanting to be. So, that led me to my next question. Why?
Eventually, the last room on the tour was my bedroom. I stepped inside first, holding the door open for her as she followed after and looked around with amusement.
"This is your room," she stated, feet taking her further inside as she took in the appearance of my desk, my bed and my wardrobe. "Fascinating."
I was curious to know what she meant by that, but realising that this woman was an enigma in more ways than one, I knew she wouldn't give me a straight answer. So, I said nothing as I followed after her, remaining close as she soaked in my belongings.
Stopping at my desk, her eyes gazed over the papers spilling from closed notebooks, books marked with string and pens littered across the wood. Thankfully, nothing was open and she didn't seem to be the nosy type, so had no intention of going through anything.
"I see you like writing," she noticed, fingers hovering above the notebooks but not quite making a move to touch them. "Runs in the family, doesn't it?"
"I guess," I said, unsure what she wanted to hear.
She looked up at me, smile tugging at her lips. The same damned smile that had been directed at me since she got here.
"Do you write like your brother?"
I tried not to laugh. "More like he writes like me."
She watched me closely, amusement dancing in her eyes. "He's the author in the family."
I mirrored her smile, though mine was fake. "Published author, love. Doesn't make him the only one."
A chuckle flew from her lips as she looked across my messy desk again, clearly not offended by the hint of annoyance in my voice. I shouldn't have been so offended by her words – she didn't know anything about me – but it always ground my gears when people stuck up for Y/B/N like he was God's gift.
"Do you write?" I asked, half interested and half wanting to change the subject. The least I could do was try to get to know her a little better.
"I prefer painting," she answered without mischief. "It's my favourite thing to do."
Her eyes lit up at the mere mention of art, but she did a good job at reigning it in. She was still studying the books on my desk, distracting herself with the spines instead of facing me.
"And what do you like to paint?" I asked, genuinely interested now that I was beginning to see her actually fond of something that didn't involve making me flustered.
She shrugged, but I knew it was a pretence. "Scenery. Landscapes. We have a beautiful garden at home and it's a pleasure to paint." She finally met my eyes again, a smile of adoration on her lips as she continued talking about the garden. "The flowers, the trees, the little pond we have. It's the perfect subject."
The smile that appeared on my lips was automatic as her passion for her hobby was contagious. The way her whole face lit up, eyes bright with excitement and lips unable to do anything but smile, was intoxicating and I tried not to get lost in the moment. It was true though, what people said. Nobody looked more beautiful than when talking about something they loved.
"I’d love to see your work sometime," I told her earnestly.
Playfulness returning, she hummed in agreement. "Only if I can see yours."
I laughed, looking down at my shoes. "Maybe not."
"Well, that's a shame," she said, still playful, though when I looked up, I almost believed her.
She did that thing again, where she stared at me and held my gaze as if reading my innermost private thoughts. Intimidating wasn't the word, yet it was the only one in my mind as I watched her attempt to decipher me. Clearing my throat, I looked away, suddenly aware of how close she was stood.
"So, my brother," I changed the subject yet again, noticing the entertained expression she wore. "You like him?"
"We are to be engaged, are we not?" she asked with a quirked brow, like the answer was obvious.
I hid the smile from my lips. "That's not what I asked, love."
She licked her lips, pursing them as she saw what I was trying to do. My eyes were immediately drawn to her mouth as she did, and I almost forgot to look away until she started speaking again.
"My parents arranged this," she admitted, not losing composure. "Y/B/N is a gentleman and he seems like a kind man."
I noticed how she still avoided answering the question, but decided not to say anything about it. My eyes studied her curiously though, wondering why exactly she'd agreed to the marriage then. Maybe it was a sense of duty, like every woman had nowadays. Eventually my time would come too and maybe I would be stuck in the same position as her.
"I adore his writing though," she added, like she needed to say something genuine to make up for her lack of answer.
"You and every other woman in the city," I mumbled knowingly.
Wanda let out a breathy laugh. "I'm aware of his many admirers, yes, but can you blame them? He has such a fantastic way with words. And don't get me started on that first piece he ever wrote..." Her eyes rolled back with satisfaction. "It's my favourite. I had no idea who he was back then, but the words he wrote were enough to make me fall in love. I guess it's convenient that my new husband is to be your brother, the author."
I crossed my arms as I leaned against the desk, trying not to break out into laughter. Not because of Wanda's words – they were actually quite sweet – but because of the whole situation. It was hilarious to me, since I was the reason Y/B/N got his big break as a writer anyway.
Following in our father's footsteps, Y/B/N wrote manuscript after manuscript with hopes of getting published. But unfortunately, he never got anywhere with it. I was also a writer, having been taught by my father like Y/B/N when I was a young girl, but unlike him, I was told to stop when I got older because it was 'unladylike' and 'not a woman's place'. That didn't stop me however, and I continued to write like no tomorrow.
Y/B/N's big break, and the first manuscript of his that got published by Pietro – ironically the one that Wanda was discussing right now – was written by me. I gave it to my brother, hoping he could get inspiration. He ended up sending that in and getting signed because of my work. And even now, I occasionally helped him work on pieces that otherwise wouldn't see the light of day.
But nobody wanted to hear about the young, unmarried woman who writes about other women like they are God's best creation. So, Y/B/N keeps the fame and credit whilst I write in private, unable to share any of my work with the world unless it's in excerpts of my brother's books with his name on the front cover.
"That first piece was pretty good, wasn't it?" I played along with Wanda's words, a hint of bitterness in my tone of voice.
Wanda studied me up and down, teasing smile tugging at her lips. "Jealousy doesn't look good on you, milaya."
I hummed in acknowledgement, feigning a smile in response, though I wasn't sure what that last word meant. Probably another Russian term she was using to throw me off. Of course she'd assume I was jealous of my brother's recognition. She didn't know the truth and she never could. She was also to marry my brother, the perfect author, soon; my bitter state was merely a jealous sibling and maybe it was easier to let her think that way.
"Dinner should be ready now," I told her, straightening up. "Let's head down."
She followed after me and I said nothing else as I led her back downstairs, trying not to think about how much of an ego-boost this dinner would be for my brother.
There was nothing better than hearing everyone gush over the work your brother took credit for that you actually did, right?
"Ah, ladies, perfect timing!" said my mum when we reached the dining room where everyone was taking their seats. "Please, sit and we can get started. It's a lovely roast from the kitchen tonight."
As I made my way to my usual seat opposite my brother, I saw Pietro fist-pump the air at the mention of the lamb roast, making Wanda roll her eyes and me smile at his action. Y//B/N took his seat and Wanda's parents seemed to take the two chairs beside him already. My parents took to each end of the table, leaving the Maximoff twins no choice but to sit beside me. I sat at the same spot as usual, at the edge of the table so my left-handed self wouldn't bother whoever was sat beside me, and take a lucky guess to who sat on my right.
"Wanda, dear, how was your tour?" my mum asked her as she got comfortable beside me, leg and shoulder almost touching mine and making me both nervous and disgruntled.
With a grin wide enough to impress my mother, she answered, "It was great. You have a beautiful home, Mrs Y/L/N. And Y/N was a lovely host."
At that last comment, I felt her eyes glance towards me and I wondered if she was having fun making me squirm because I knew for sure that I was anything but a lovely host.
"That's reassuring to hear," my mother responded as the food was brought out and placed in the centre of the table. She seemed like she was joking, but I knew she was just glad I'd been on my best behaviour. "And please, call me Y/M/N."
Wanda nodded gratefully as my dad began to cut into the roast. Food was served up and drinks were poured as everybody began to dig in. The Maximoffs sent their compliments to the chef, admired our home and were the perfect guests, just as they were expected to be. My family complimented Wanda and Pietro's manners, talked about how business was going and laughed at every joke Oleg and Iryna uttered, just as they were expected to be. It really was a picture-perfect scene and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.
Okay, maybe I was acting a little cynical. The Maximoffs weren't that bad, at least not as bad I'd assumed they would be compared to my parents' other friends. They were down-to-Earth and humbled people, a welcoming change from the usual. I just hated forced dinners and being scrutinised under my mother's eyes to behave, hence the clipped attitude.
And just on cue, the topic steered towards something lovely.
"We can't forget to talk about Y/B/N, bestselling author over here!" Oleg beamed, motioning to my brother. "I have to admit, son, I'm amazed at your writing. You clearly have your father's talent."
My brother smiled bashfully as I watched on with narrowed eyes and a tight grip on my fork.
"You flatter me," he said, but Iryna shook her head.
"I have to agree with my husband here, Y/B/N," she said. "Your writing is superb. Pietro, obviously, loves it, and Wanda is a huge fan, too."
At this, my brother glanced towards Wanda with excited eyes and she merely smiled and looked elsewhere, either embarrassed to be mentioned or playing coy. Rolling my eyes came naturally at this point.
"Tell me, how did you think of what to write for that first book?" Iryna asked with intrigue. "It was my favourite one."
Ah, yes, the first book. Apparently everyone's favourite one.
"Oh, it's best not to bring all that up–"
"I'd actually like to know, too," Wanda cut him off, her curiosity getting the better of her as she leaned forward onto the palm of her hand and watched him under long eyelashes.
I couldn't keep the smile of delight from my face as I too leaned forward curiously, eyeing my brother. "Yes, dear, brother. Please, do tell us of how you came to write such an honest, heartfelt first book."
At this, I felt both my parents send me a warning look as they knew the truth. But neither of the Maximoffs noticed as their attention was solely on my brother.
Luckily for him, he was a great liar and he smiled his charming smile and nodded, looking between the four guests.
"I guess it started after my third failed manuscript," he began, very believably. "I realised that there was something missing from my pages. Something real and genuine. Something that would appeal to my readers and make them question just how much they were appreciating their partner, you know?"
As he rambled off into another literary spout of nonsense, my smile faded and I gritted my teeth, wondering how he'd gotten so good at lying without giving away a sliver of pretence. The Maximoffs were hanging onto his every word, fascinated by the mind of a writer. I tried not to let it get to me as he butchered the meaning behind everything I had written in that first novel. Some things were better left unsaid.
When he finished, questions were fired his way and my parents watched on with pride in their eyes, as he answered them with ease. I chose to stay quiet, as usual, letting him soak in the credit for something he didn't do.
"And what do you think, Y/N?" Wanda's voice included me in the conversation, and everybody's eyes fell to me. I was only looking at her as her lips were pulled into a wide, suggestive smile and she continued, "How is it being the sister of one of today's bestselling authors?"
The usual forced smile that accompanied my lips whenever talking about Y/B/N because present, but my eyes were questioning Wanda's as she was clearly trying to get a rise out of me yet again, especially now that she assumed I was jealous of her husband-to-be's fame. Her stupid beautiful smile and stupid pretty eyes and stupid attractive accent were all taunting me.
"It makes me proud to know that he's come so far from when we were younger," I said, and though I was irritated by the way it had happened, my words weren't entirely false. "He's a talented man and he clearly has a way with words. What more is there to say?"
The elders seemed touched by my words and when I looked over the table to meet my brother's gaze, I saw the gratitude in his expression, hiding behind his smile and reserved for me. I nodded subtly, letting him know I was happy to keep his secret as long as he wished, just like we'd agreed.
Chatter and compliments soon turned to the real reason for our presence – the engagement. I tucked into my dessert as I let them talk about dates for the engagement party, logistics for guests and all the other details I could care less about. Only when my brother mentioned my name did I look up, surprised to see all eyes on me yet again.
"I'm sorry, what was that?" I asked politely, glancing around.
"Y/N, honey, lay off the chocolate cake, will you?" my mum said with a smile that I knew was code for 'put the bloody fork down'.
I forced a smile of my own as I lowered my fork and sat up straight, very ladylike, and looked to my brother.
"I was saying how I'll be sure to pick a beautiful engagement ring for Wanda here," he no-doubt repeated for my sake. "And maybe you could help me choose, to make sure it's something she may like."
A genuine sarcastic smile broke out on my lips, though not because I was interested in ring shopping with my brother. I knew absolutely nothing about dear Wanda or her taste in jewellery, but a woman was to do what she was best at – shopping! So, without sharing my true thoughts on the situation, I nodded respectfully and hummed in agreement.
"Of course," I said what everybody wanted to hear. "I'm sure we can find something to suit Wanda's taste."
Everybody resumed chatter about the wedding as I sighed quietly and got back to my cake. My right hand rested by my side and I jumped, startled when I made contact with Wanda's fingers.
"Sorry," I apologised, moving my hand a little from hers but keeping it there. "Left-handed an' all. I tend to forget."
Green eyes pierced through me with a matching sly smile. "No problem, milaya."
Again with the 'milaya' talk – what did that even mean? I returned the awkward smile as I continued eating, but I didn't fail to notice the way her hand would brush against mine throughout the rest of the meal.
Either by accident or on purpose, I'd never know, but I had my suspicions.
#wanda maximoff au#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff imagine#wanda maximoff x you#scarlet witch imagine#scarlet witch#marvel#elizabeth olsen x reader#elizabeth olsen
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