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eoieopda · 8 months

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tidal.

but vernon has a point to make, so that’s precisely what he does: “i don’t need a sales pitch. you will never — ever — have to convince me to fuck you.”

pairing: vernon x afab!reader type: one-shot (fluff n’ smut) au: est. relationship wc: 4.8k rating: 18+ a/n: i didn’t plan this whatsoever, but i felt so weirdly compelled to write it that i avoided eye-contact with all of my wips, and now… here we are, lol. cw: pov switch, reader is afab + on their period, gender identity + pronouns aren’t designated, blood mention (obvi), unprotected p in v penetration (ill-advised!!), wee bit of dry-humping (ig?), a lil massage, pet names (baby, sweetheart), self-indulgent ref to a favorite docu of mine, and lastly — vernon (yes, this is a warning 🧍🏻) 🔞 MINORS WHO INTERACT WITH ME AND/OR MY CONTENT WILL BE BLOCKED, WHETHER OR NOT THE CONTENT IS NSFW. I’M AN ADULT WRITING EXCLUSIVELY FOR OTHER ADULTS.

Vernon isn’t blind.

He can see you out of the corner of his eye, laying flat on your back, several unexplained centimeters away from his side. With the duvet clenched in your fists, you stare intently up at the ceiling, like you’re waiting for it to move — or trying to move it yourself, telekinetically. You keep your bottom lip pinched between your teeth, as if you expect it to make a run for it.

So, yes, Vernon can see you.

He just can’t figure out what’s wrong with you.

For a few minutes, he attempts to pay attention to the documentary lighting up the screen on the wall ahead. You were the one that picked it — some wild tale about mother-daughter recluses in New York — and he finds it hard to give a shit about it without your usual commentary. Your hot takes are his favorite part of any movie night, after all.

He’ll be the first to admit that he’s never been good at keeping his eyes off you. Try as he might, he can’t glue his gaze to the television; each glance in your direction sticks longer than the one before it, testing the waters. Minutes slip away just like this until he completely caves, turns his head fully, and stares at you outright.

You still don’t seem to notice.

His brow scrunches up as he watches you, caught in the middle between concerned, confused, and amused by how absolutely ridiculous you look right now. When he speaks, he tries to sound stern, like he isn’t fighting the urge to laugh.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” is all he gets in response.

You don’t even look his way. If anything, you tense harder now that his attention is on you.

None of it makes sense. Not the weird gap you’ve left between your body and his, your total refusal to look him in the eye, or the fact that there wasn’t an argument to precipitate any of this distance. It’s a symptom with no apparent cause, and it’s totally baffling. Brain-breaking, even.

Frowning, Vernon scoots himself across the bed to get closer to you.

You don’t reciprocate.

He tugs gently at the hem of your sweatshirt in a silent plea for your attention and receives radio silence in response; unless he counts the way you swallow thickly.

Which, for the record, he does not.

This close, Vernon can feel the anxious energy pulsing out of your tensed-up body in waves, so he leans away and props himself up on his elbow. Desperate to know what broke you and how to fix it, he mutters, “What is happening right now?”

Ope.

It comes out harsher than it was supposed to, reading more like annoyance than worry, so he immediately clears his throat. Gently and with a brush of his knuckles against your hip bone, he tries again: “Are you okay? Did I do something to make you mad at me?”

A fly on the wall might get the wrong impression and think he stroked you with a live wire instead.

“Oh, my god. No!” You sputter with a jolt, shifting gears quickly from vaguely on-edge to horrified. You shake your head so frantically that Vernon fears you’ll detach it. “No, you haven’t done anything. I’m fine, I just —”

He interjects with a laugh, “— I don’t necessarily believe that —”

Visibly cringing with every muscle in your body, you cover your face with your hands. Not long after you take a deep breath does a meek voice slip out through your fingers, sounding beyond embarrassed.

“I’m so incomprehensibly horny right now that I can’t even look at you.”

For a second, it’s dead silent because he can’t quite process how much of a weirdo you are, or how completely and hopelessly enamored he is with you. But then the dam breaks. His laugh comes out so forcefully that you pull your hands away from your face, eyes wide.

“Is that so?” He smirks, nodding his head towards the television. “Grey Gardens really gets your motor running, huh?”

Absolutely aghast, you swat at his bicep. Then, you sling your arm over your eyes and groan, “I got my period. It has turned me into a sex-crazed monster, I fear.”

Vernon nods in understanding, even though you can’t see it, and hums, “Ahh.”

And he leaves it at that, only because you seem to have more that you want to say. Something you want to ask, maybe, or a reason you may want to give for not jumping his bones at the first opportunity. He’s down, he thinks without hesitation, so long as you are.

But you don’t say anything.

Maybe you aren’t actually down after all, and that’s why you won’t look at him. Shit, are you embarrassed? Should I say something? Silence falls overtop like a weighted blanket, smothering the two idiots who can’t tell whose turn it is to talk.

Do you or do you not want this right now?

You mumble something that he can’t catch, so he nudges your side gently with his knuckles to encourage you. Just as nervous, you repeat yourself without looking at him, “Period sex is supposed to help with cramps, I think.”

He thinks he’s read the exact same article you have. More than that, he wishes you’d look over at him and see for yourself how completely unbothered he is by this concept.

“If you think about it, it’s kind of like a natural lubricant,” you add in a voice that’s even smaller than before.

Your shyness really might kill him, so he reaches over to grab your hand and gently pull your arm away from your eyes. It’s the first time you’ve looked at him since you laid down — since you put your self-imposed no-contact order in place — and he feels his stupid heart swell.

For what it’s worth, he feels his dick twitch, too.

You open your mouth to speak again, likely to continue your unnecessary campaigning; Vernon is having none of it. He tugs your wrist just enough to tilt you inward, then he kisses you hard enough to shut you up. A tiny whimper slips out of your lips when he pulls away, and it almost makes him regret his decision to do so.

But Vernon has a point to make, so that’s precisely what he does: “I don’t need a sales pitch. You will never — ever — have to convince me to fuck you.”

Your eyes crinkle at the corners, like this is somehow news to you. It shouldn’t be. He’s told you a thousand times in as many different ways how thoroughly crazy you drive him just by existing so closely to him, but maybe you didn’t take him seriously then.

To emphasize his point, he slips his hand under the hem of your sweatshirt and finds your bare waist with the pad of his thumb. It spirals slowly against your warm skin, making both of you dizzy. Then, sick of the distance, Vernon dips his head down to press a kiss to your temple.

“Like, ever,” he murmurs, lips following the curve of your jaw.

Soft, slow kisses trail behind him as he travels down to your lips. Your head tilts further backwards with every single one, providing him with more and more access.

He states it matter-of-factly because, to him, it is. “I’m down so bad for you that it might be terminal.”

“Oh?”

You try to laugh but turn to putty when his palm rests fully on the curve of your waist and pulls you flush against him. The surprised gasp you let loose confirms his suspicion: You can feel how serious he is, affirmation throbbing against your abdomen in time with his heartbeat.

Vernon smirks to himself, relishing your reaction, and bypasses your mouth entirely. A moan escapes from you, soft like an exhale, as his lips move slowly down the length of your neck. Every so often — just to feel you shiver — he flicks the tip of his tongue along the delicate skin he finds there.

“It might be messy…”

The rest of your needless warning gets lost in a dreamy sigh as he suckles at the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. Shifting even closer, your desperate fingers reach out and cling to his t-shirt.

Vernon licks a stripe over the galaxy blooming on your skin. He hums, hand traveling upwards from your waist, “Don’t care about a mess.”

And he means it.

Mindful of any soreness, he smooths his hand over your left breast and massages it tenderly, swearing to himself that he’ll throw the whole fucking mattress out if that’s what it comes down to. For you, he’ll race across town on foot to buy another one, and — fuck it — if the store is closed, he might just break in.

You’re growing impatient; your fingers let go of his shirt and tangle themselves in his hair.

“So needy,” he chuckles low in his chest, teasing. “You know, I think you’re lying. I think it is this bat-shit insane documentary that’s driving you wild, and you’re too embarrassed to admit it.”

“Stop,” you whine, dragging out the vowel sound.

You don’t, though; you throw your left leg over his right thigh and shimmy forward until your cunt grazes his dick. Involuntarily, he groans at the warmth radiating off your core. Every part of you drives him just the slightest bit insane. You seem to know it, he thinks as he watches your pupils dilate in real time.

But he can play games, too, so he rolls his hips forward and grinds against you. He pushes you further, “Don’t get me wrong, baby. I’m not kink-shaming you —”

“Hansol Vernon Chwe!”

Oh, shit. Government name?

“— I’m just a little surprised, I guess.” He sighs with a shrug. “Think you know somebody…”

Your impatience is scribbled all across your scrunched up face. It seeps into your voice when you crash back against the pillows and huff, “Can you please stop fucking with me and start fucking me?”

“Sex-crazed monster, huh?” Leaning over, Vernon punctuates his question with a quick press of his lips to yours.

You whimper, “I’m so serious. I might explode.”

“Then go take care of whatever you need to take care of.” He kisses you again, smiling so fondly that his eyes may even be twinkling. “And I’ll go get a towel.”

You wait until Vernon clears the threshold before launching yourself out of bed at breakneck speed. Stumbling all the while, you race off to the adjoining bathroom and shut the door forcefully behind you. When it clatters against the frame, you finally admit to yourself that you might be a little bit eager.

Maybe.

Opting to keep your baggy, bleach-stained sweatshirt on, you wiggle out of your shorts and — what he refers to as — your crisis diaper. The high-waisted, frumpy, beige panties are utilized exclusively during your period, and to your surprise, they’ve remained spotless. It’s only ever the pretty and expensive pairs that wind up as collateral damage, isn’t it?

As they pool around your ankles, you can’t help but think that Vernon’s nickname for them is pretty spot on. That’s partly why you figured he might need to be talked into this. Unsated arousal aside, you feel as far from sexy as you can possibly get.

You shake your head to clear your thoughts, kick what you’ve discarded into a pile near the hamper, and let your sweatshirt shift down to cover as much of your ass as it’s capable of managing. You grab a square of toilet paper; then, you go to work excavating the wad of cotton that separates you from everything you want in this life.

It is within the realm of possibility that you’re a little bit eager and a little bit dramatic.

Perhaps.

After discarding the evidence in the small trash can under the sink, you wash your hands as if you’re about to step into an operating theater and not the bedroom you spend half your life in. When you finally feel sterile, you lift your head and catch your reflection in the mirror. Instantly, you make eye contact with the painful, hormonal pimple on your chin — the one you’ve been waging a retinoid war against for days.

“Bitch,” you mutter, like calling it names will be the one thing that finally gets it to shrink. Of course, your plan doesn’t work, but you feel a little less powerless. That’s good enough, you think. At least, as good as it’s going to get.

Now half-naked and certifiably unobstructed, you tiptoe back to your bedroom much more carefully than you left it. Vernon enters from the opposite doorway at the same time, jumping slightly the second he notices you. You ignore his frightened eyes and glance down at the crisp, white towel he’s clutching.

You open your mouth to suggest anything otherwise, but he beats you to it. His eyebrows shoot up his forehead as his mouth widens outwards, a self-aware rectangle. Otherwise expressionless, he lets go of an atonal, “Aaaaaaah”, that tells you he’s caught on.

He says nothing else before turning around and walking back the way he came. You have to bite down on your lips to keep from cackling.

That one’s mine, you think, still as infatuated as you were at the start. I chose that one.

While he’s gone, you try not to move, not to breathe too heavily. Vernon said he didn’t care about a mess, but when he said it, he was speaking theoretically with his hand on your tit. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d spoken recklessly with your body melting under his touch.

As far as you know, he hasn’t had any experience with this mess in practice. He could wind up finding you about as sexy as you currently feel — to wit: not at all. So, erring on the side of caution, you turn yourself into a statue and wait for the boy and his towel to find you again.

When he comes back, he plants a drive-by kiss on your unsuspecting mouth before skirting right around you. With shocking finesse, he grabs the corners of the — thankfully — black towel, which unfurls in the seconds before he flicks it upwards. It lands perfectly in the center of the bed, flat without needing to be fussed with.

“Wow,” he mutters to himself, taking in his clean work with raised eyebrows.

The impressed look is still on his face when he turns around, but you don’t have time to comment on his feat because he laughs as soon as he sees you.

“Kinda look like Donald Duck with the whole top-on, bottom-off situation.”

I chose this one?

You pout with an indignant gasp, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m not wearing a sailor hat, so…. bad analogy. Rude, even.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs as he snakes his arms around your waist and pulls you in close. You stumble a little on your way into him; the jury’s still out about whether it’s his hushed tone or the sudden movement that trips you up.

Between his thumb and index finger, he gently captures your chin. You follow along with his unspoken direction, tilt your face up to meet his. This close, you can see your own reflection in his pupils, black dilating against the warmest shade of brown you’ve ever seen.

Vernon takes a moment of silence as he takes in your features, and he studies them so intently that his eyebrows crinkle on their own. He sighs, sounding so completely serious. “You might get prettier every time I look at you.”

It’s unclear if you’re melting, or gushing; and if it’s the latter, you can’t say which biological process is at fault. Thankfully, the hand at the small of your back keeps your weak knees from buckling when his lips brush over yours.

“Even if you’re dressed like Winnie the Pooh.”

You feel him smirk even before you hear him laugh at his own joke. Then, you feel his hand slide down to cup your bare cheek, squeezing affectionately. You want to tell him that this analogy is still inaccurate because you’re not wearing a crop-top; but he gently instructs you to ditch the sweatshirt and get on the bed, and your body moves automatically. No questions asked.

Carefully, you crawl up onto the mattress, then you center yourself on the towel. Still on your knees, you tilt your head curiously and ask, “Where do you want me?”

“Anywhere,” he breezes, pulling his shirt off and tossing it onto the dresser nearby. He amends, “Everywhere. All the time, and then some.”

“Better be careful,” you tease. “Talking like that might have consequences. You may never be able to get rid of me.”

His joggers are the next to go. Your sanity follows shortly thereafter, hungry eyes lingering on the imprint of his cock underneath his boxer briefs. You have to clamp your mouth shut to keep from drooling.

Brown eyes sparkling, he steps closer to you, kicking his pants aside as he goes. “Be careful,” he echoes, not a hint of cockiness to be found — just softness. “Saying it like a threat doesn’t make me wish it’s not a promise.”

I choose this one.

Crossing all the way to you, Vernon reaches the bed and climbs up with significantly more grace than you did. The mattress dips under his weight as he kneels right in front of you, mirroring your posture and causing your stomach to flip with anticipation.

You can’t help yourself; you lick your lips and look up at him with half-lidded eyes. “Naked, please. Like, right now.”

“Damn, I gotta do this myself?” Incredulous, he holds his hands up while glancing pointedly down at his underwear, then back at you.

You arch an eyebrow, unfazed.

“Depends.” You shrug. “Do you want to keep them? Because I really will rip them off of you.”

He concedes quickly; he always does. Sighing, he shakes his head and tuts, “Sex-crazed monster,” before pushing his briefs down his thighs. His length hangs heavy between you, but you swear you can feel its perfect ache inside you already.

You have a one-track mind, so you don’t hesitate to reach out and wrap your hand around him. A groan crawls up from the bottom of your chest when you feel the weighted warmth of his cock in your palm. You don’t hold that back, either.

“Fuck,” he sighs, head tilting as far backwards as it’ll go. Unexpectedly, he laughs. He doesn’t catch the quizzical look you shoot him, though he explains himself anyway, “Your hands are so fucking cold, but it feels so good.”

Swiping your thumb over his tip, you spread the pre-cum you find there down his shaft and stroke him slowly. He grows harder with every gentle squeeze, every pass of your fist.

“We’re learning a lot of new shit about each other today.” You lean forward to pepper kisses across his collarbones. The hum of your mouth against his skin when you talk makes his cock twitch in your hand. “You might have a temperature kink and a thing for Winnie the Pooh.”

He snorts, nowhere near serious, “Shut the fuck up.”

“Make me,” you counter smugly, and you do mean it.

Vernon tilts his head forward to stare back at you. You’re already turning into a puddle, but if the look he gives you says anything, it’s that your melting isn’t enough for him. His voice is low and velvet-lined when he responds, “How about I just make you cum instead?”

“That could work, yeah.” You shrug.

He runs the pads of his fingers down each side of your waist to your hips, then back again; and each time he does it, you shiver. Reflexively, your back arches, chest pressing against his.

At this, he smirks, “It could? Maybe?”

“We can workshop it.”

“Or,” Vernon so generously offers, “You can turn around and lay down on your stomach. You know, if that’s sufficient.”

It’s not until you whip around and flop down onto the towel that you realize you never responded with words. Oh well. You figure he gets the point, judging by the quiet laughter you hear as he settles with his knees on either side of your upper thighs.

You don’t know what his next move will be — you don’t care, either, as long as he moves in your direction — so you don’t anticipate his palms flattening against your bare back, applying perfect pressure with his thumbs while he rubs away the soreness at the very base of your torso.

“Oh, shit,” you moan, eyes fluttering shut as the heels of his hands work out the tension in your muscles. “Have you always been good at this?”

You feel his chest brush against your shoulder blades when he hovers over you. Against the nape of your neck, he murmurs, “Nope.”

He kisses down your spine, mouth trailing after his hands as they work their way back down your body.

“Lemme guess — you read an article? Studied up?”

You get a snicker, then an affirmative hum, then another kiss. This time, it’s at the curve of your spine, just above your ass. Seconds later, he’s kneading the doughy flesh of your cheeks until your whole fucking body tingles.

That’s when it hits you:

Under normal circumstances, Vernon would be face-first in your pussy by now. Devouring you in earnest, like he’s starving. He can’t do that now — and you don’t blame him — so he’s making up for what you both view as a loss.

God, you want him.

One hand disappears from you, but you don’t have to guess where it went. You can hear the barely-there hiss of breath through his teeth when he takes his cock in that hand; as well as the very faint shift of his palm while he pumps himself.

“You’re gonna have to navigate, baby. I dunno how sensitive you are like this, what’s too much — any of that, so you need to tell me how you want me to move.”

Suddenly dizzy over how badly you need him, all you can muster is a nod. Vernon must want a verbal acknowledgment, though, because he leans back over you with one hand bearing his weight beside your head.

He kisses your shoulder and urges you, “Please say so if you need to stop or switch it up. Don’t wanna hurt you, sweetheart.”

“I will,” you breathe. “But I can’t even articulate how much I need you inside of me right now, so please — pretty please — fuck me.”

The tip of his nose bumps your temple affectionately. Right beside your ear, he teases, “With a cherry on top?” And it vibrates down your whole goddamn spine.

“Vernon!” You whine, burying your face in the comforter. It’s muffled, but you warn him nonetheless, “Don’t make me come back there.”

“Aish. Calm down, sex monster.”

The instinct to twist around and glare at him over your shoulder is strong, but every feral urge you feel is stronger. So, when he tells you to spread yourself open for him and tilt your hips back, you do so without even a hint of complaining.

With the crown of his cock slipping through your folds, inching towards your entrance, you hear him curse under his breath. Suddenly self-conscious, you finally crane your neck to the side and glance back at him.

“We don’t have to,” you whisper. “If it’s gross and you don’t want to anymore, I get it —”

He balks at your suggestion without letting so much as a beat pass. “None of that, sweetheart; no spiraling. I’m just trying to figure out the logistics of, like… how to survive how good this already feels.”

Struck dumb, all you can muster is a peep, “Oh?”

“Shit, yeah.” His response comes in a low groan. “Can you take a deep breath for me?”

It’s a good call on his part, a suggestion you’re glad to have taken, because the pressure of him entering you is intense enough to knock the wind out of you. Empty lungs likely would’ve led to your untimely demise.

You whimper, already overwhelmed with the combination of pain and pleasure; the best kind of ache. The little, breathy moans must freak him out, however, because his fingertips caress your waist as he checks in: “This okay?”

Your limp arm lifts off the mattress, which you’ve melted fully into, and you form a circle with your index finger and thumb to indicate that you’re okay. The light is bright fucking green; you’ve just maxed out your capacity for speech.

Vernon continues his slow thrust forward, giving you ample time to adjust to his size.

“Oh my god,” he grunts, “This is — shit, I can’t believe we haven’t done this before. If I knew how good you’d feel like this, I wouldn’t have waited around for you to ask me.”

That hits like a truck.

He was waiting on you.

You spent months convincing yourself that he’d need to be convinced, and chickening out before you could raise the idea. Months, and months, and months, of craving him during your werewolf transformation; wasting away over a shitty assumption that Vernon is anything like the people you’ve been with before.

Christ.

His credit for putting up with you is long overdue.

Too tongue-tied to speak any of that out loud, you settle for a summary that you hope conveys the message: “I love you so fucking much.”

Mindful of how deep it will push him into your cunt, he leans down over you carefully. Weight balanced on his knees and forearms, he envelopes you in his body heat, trails kisses across your shoulder, and echoes your words back at you between each one.

“Is this too much?” He whispers, rolling his hips slowly.

You feel him everywhere, with every drag of his cock along your walls; and you can’t tell where that throbbing sensation is coming from, him or you.

You shake your head and sigh, “‘s perfect. You’re perfect.”

Like he knows it’ll unravel you, his large hand comes to rest over the back of yours. His fingers slip through the spaces between and squeeze you much more gently than the vice grip you hold on the bedding below you. He keeps holding you — just like this — through every movement.

The sensation of being this surrounded, this loved, this whole crashes over you like a wave and knocks you off balance.

“I’m so close,” you pant, voice as ragged as your breathing. There’s nothing that he isn’t already giving you with every deep, deliberate thrust into your heat; but you beg nonetheless, “Please, please, please —”

His speed doesn’t increase, but the intensity does. The smack of his hips colliding with your ass does, too, and you feel it reverberating in your bones. Buried as far inside of you as he can be, cock tip kissing your cervix with every high tide, length rolling across your g-spot with every low.

You cum so hard — so completely, invoking every single muscle you have — that you forget how to breathe. With a choked-out gasp, you squeeze your eyes shut and let your orgasm devastate you.

“Fuck!”

Vernon gets caught up in the current, too, grinding desperately against you until he’s swept up in your wake. You feel him twitch inside you as his release floods, leaving you so lost in his warmth that you feel boneless underneath him.

His face winds up hidden in the crook of your neck, somewhere amidst the baby hairs that cling to the sheen of your sweat. You feel his lips fluttering against your skin when he laughs, “Oh…my god.”

“Mmphf.” You nod weakly in agreement. Beyond blissed, your body still tingles too much to move.

Slurring, you add, “‘s good. ‘s really…”

The rest of that thought dissolves into something between a moan and a yawn.

Just as tired, Vernon pats your ass cheek affectionately and mumbles, “Well said. No notes.”

You tilt your head far enough to free your face from the sheets. When you do, you find your boyfriend fighting a losing battle to keep his eyes open. In the rare seconds he can, he looks back at you in a daze that seems even more adoring than it does fuck-drunk.

“I think I need to hibernate now,” you announce. “Think you just fucked me so well that I need to take a sabbatical.”

He counter-offers, “Shower first, then sabbatical?”

You wiggle so that you can pull your joint hands to your mouth. You can’t kiss him properly while he’s laid out on top of you, but you can press your lips to the back of his hand and hope he feels how much of you that you pour into it.

“Okay, but, like…. who’s carrying who?”

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eyeslikewatercoolers · 24 days

Text

You Belong with Me (Venora)

Next installment for the Swiftie Writing Project! I've never written Venora before this, so hopefully it's good. This is more based on the iconic music video than the song itself lol

read on ao3

You're on the phone with your girlfriend, she's upset She's going off about something that you said 'Cause she doesn't get your humor like I do

Aurora had the same routine when she got home from school. She went up to her bedroom, practiced her oboe for band, and then had dinner with her family downstairs. After dinner, she studied for her AP classes and homework, before heading to bed for the night.

Tonight, she was studying for her AP World History test that she had first thing the next morning. She was trying to memorize the dates of all the battles from the Spanish-American War when she heard a voice from the next-door neighbor.

It may have been a nice, warm evening, but keeping the window open may have been more of a distraction.

“Listen, baby, I wasn’t talking about-” “I was trying to say that-” …Okay, I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight, love you.”

Aurora looked over to see her neighbor, Venus, pacing the floor as she stared at her phone screen. The other girl eventually tossed it to her bed with a sigh.

Aurora left her desk and walked over to the window. She opened it the rest of the way and waved to get Venus’s attention.

Venus’s caught her out of the corner of her eye, and her eyes brightened. The other girl opened her window and held her head in her hand with a dramatic sigh.

“You good?” Aurora asked, calling out her window.

Venus rolled her eyes, “Don’t you hate it when your girlfriend brings up something you said in middle school?”

“Can’t say I’ve had that happen to me yet,” Aurora said with a mock-thoughtful look.

Venus laughed, seeming more visibly relaxed. “It sucks, I wouldn’t want to wish it on anyone.”

Before Aurora could continue the conversation, the two were interrupted by a cell phone ringing from Venus’s bedroom. Venus sighed, and moved closer into the room, “Have a good night, Aurora.” she said before closing the window.

Aurora watched Venus continue pacing while talking on the phone until she closed the blinds. Once Aurora couldn’t see her neighbor anymore, she closed her window and returned to studying.

“Good night, Venus,” Aurora said as she put in a pair of earbuds to distract herself from her distracting neighbor.

And you've got a smile That can light up this whole town I haven't seen it in a while Since she brought you down You say you're fine, I know you better than that Hey, what you doing with a girl like that?

Aurora was sitting in the bleachers with the rest of the school's band on the next Friday evening. They were the pep band for the varsity volleyball team’s game, as it was a great school event for the band.

She would much rather be at home watching old Chinese dramas with her family on a Friday night. But at least she got to see Venus play, that was the only positive.

The team was all over the home side of the gym as they warmed up, some stretching or doing drills. Venus was stretching on the gym floor with her long legs in front of her, reaching for her toes.

As Venus raised back up, Aurora tried to avoid eye contact by pretending to get her oboe in tune, but Venus was already climbing the bleachers to greet her.

Aurora’s eyes darted to see if the cheerleaders were nearby, but they were not in the gym yet. She looked at Venus, who was smiling next to her.

“Finally coming to see our team in action?” she said with a cocky grin.

Aurora playfully rolled her eyes, “Only because my band director said I had to,” She joked as she gestured to her cheap, polyester uniform.

“We’re a lot more fun than the football games, trust me,” Venus said as she kept her eyes on Aurora. Despite all the other people in the gymnasium, Aurora felt like they were the only two in there.

“I think anything is better than our school’s football team if you ask me,” Aurora pointed out.

Venus laughed along with Aurora’s joke before changing the subject, “Hey, there’s an after-party if you-”

She was interrupted by a loud unanimous roar coming inside the gym, as the cheerleaders were clapping and calling out the school’s mascot. Aurora noticed that Venus’s smile faltered slightly, but tried to keep her composure.

“V? What are you doing up there?” they both saw a cheerleader with long, bleach-blonde hair at the bottom of the bleachers.

“I gotta go, enjoy the game,” Venus said before leaving Aurora’s side. She watched her speed down the steps and greeted her girlfriend with a kiss.

“Were you flirting with a player?” A voice asked behind her. Aurora knew who it was by the trombone they played and the sharpie-colored trans flag on their shoe.

“Shut up and play, the game is about to start.” Aurora reached to elbow Denim’s side, both teenagers trying not to laugh as the band started playing their first song.

Standing by and waiting at your backdoor All this time how could you not know, baby? You belong with me You belong with me

“I can’t believe you forced me to go to this,” Aurora said to the school bathroom mirror. She adjusted the straps of the dress she borrowed from Nearah’s closet.

“Because you can’t be inside your house every single Friday night. It’s Homecoming, I’m not letting you be a nerdy hermit.” Nearah explained as she released the piece of Aurora’s hair from the curling iron.

“What if I needed to study?” Aurora pointed out.

Nearah rolled her eyes, “You always study, one night off isn’t going to kill you. “ she took the hairspray from her bag on the floor, “Now hold still.” before engulfing Aurora in a cloud of cheap hairspray.

Nearah stayed by Aurora’s side for about ten minutes, before getting distracted by wanting to talk to someone from their Calculus class. “I’ll be right back, just give me, like two songs,” she said before disappearing into the crowd.

After at least ten more songs played through, Aurora grew tired of waiting on the sidelines of the gym. She hadn’t seen Nearah since she left her side, so Aurora was officially ditched by her friend.

Taking a deep breath, Aurora walked closer to the crowd of dancers. Some of her classmates gave her a doubletake as she walked through. Some girls gave her compliments with sincere smiles.

As she was about to make another loop around the gym floor, Aurora felt a gentle tap on her shoulder.

She turned around and saw Venus in front of her, smiling brightly. She stood alone, her girlfriend nowhere in sight. Just as she recognized Venus, a slow song started playing.

“You look like you need a dance partner,” Venus said with an offered open hand.

“What about your girlfriend?” Aurora asked as she darted her eyes around before she looked at Venus again.

“Don’t worry, we broke up a couple of days after the game,” Venus explained. She didn’t seem sad or upset, so maybe it wasn’t a bad breakup. “Can I have this dance?” Venus asked with her offered hand.

Aurora smiled and nodded, “Yes, take the lead,” she said as she looped her arms around Venus’s neck. Slender arms snuck around her waist as they gently swayed together to the music.

The song soon ended, but Aurora couldn’t wait for her next slow dance with Venus.

#venora #cdr4 #swiftie writing project #rpdr fanfiction #my writing #my fics

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accio-victuuri · 11 months

Text

CPN : Same phone case timeline 🗓️📱

just when i thought the posts i’m making on here to archive all the candies couldn’t get any weirder, this happens. lol. i have to say that the cpn about the phone case has really become more popular ( and notorious ) than i thought it would be. it just seemed so common to have the same plain-looking case as someone — but if you really look at the variables, you’ll notice that some things don’t add up.

this is all speculation/interpretation/opinion in the pov of a bxg. the timeline is real tho.

I decided to make this because it seems like what we know about it’s first appearance is all wrong. initially, this was noticed w/ ZZ @ Weibo TV & Movie awards then we kept our eye on it. However, recent “developments” show that it was earlier than that.

• A fan found a photo ( i won’t repost here cause it was sneakily taken at a public place ) of Bobo back in 6/2022 as well as 8/2022 where he was already using that phone case with a card slot. his phone case design in recent years ( late 21-23 ) has really been difficult to place since he rarely ( never ) takes mirror selfies anymore or even takes his phone out in public.

I found this additional timeline explanation that says WYB’s assistant during CQL was also using a phone card case at that time. We don’t know the connection or if he is still in close contact with WYB and they used the same one. In ZZ’s vlog from 8/22, he was only using a clear case. He changed his phone in September so that’s when the new phone card case was bought, and he got one ( allegedly ) for WYB so they can really match. The one he used in 6/22 was him ( wyb ) starting the “trend” of the phone card case and ZZ was not onboard yet.

• 9/2022 to early 10/22, I’m using this month here cause in 2/2023 we got the SBMS behind the scenes video. There is a scene there where ZZ shows something on his phone to BBH, he was using the phone case already. We just didn’t know. Filming for this drama was around late september so i’ll add it to the timeline.

• 11/29/2022 ZZ was spotted with the phone case during the WB TV & Movie night. At the time, we were just clowning that he was texting WYB 😂

• 11/30/22 WYB was photographed on his way to Wuzhen and he had his phone out for a moment. We caught what his phone case looks like and that it’s the same as ZZ’s.

• 12/6/22 GG was photographed at the airport and he had his phone in the open, which is unusual. like bobo, he doesn’t take it out especially at the airport, but it was like he was confirming something to those of us who pay attention.

• 1/22/23 WYB attends a roadshow for Wuming’s release and fans saw him seated very close to the screen and alone. You can see he had his phone on his lap and it looks like the phone card case. but again, it wasn’t clear. the cinema was dark. then he didn’t take it out again.

• After this, we see the phone case on ZZ’s side a couple or times especially in video out takes shared by XZS for his photoshoots + work related filming. At this point, it was already identified with him especially by his fans and those who follow him.

• 4/27 Gucci Cosmos, ZZ shares a photo where his phone case is visible and it doesn’t look like the same one. This seems like an outlier. I’m not sure if he used it to match his outfit ( which is gray ) Or if this is even his personal phone ( but i think it is ). We will have to wait and see for future glimpses of his phone to see if he changes back. I’m seeing this as more of an aesthetic switch to match the event.

• 5/11/23 WYB shares photos on IG and we finally get a clear picture of his phone case and that it is what we think it is.

• 5/12 All the talk started about Bobo deleting the photo and cpfs linking it to being about the couple phone case.

• 5/13 The topic of the same phone case went on HS and fans from all sides came out to give their explanation.

• 5/19/23 after all the “controversy” XZ studio still includes a clear photo of the phone case for their Euro Trip photos 📷 Showing that they don’t give af about all the issue surrounding it.

• 5/20 HZT ( the actor who plays LQR ) posts a douyin of the same style phone case and it’s — so suspicious 👁️👄👁️

AND WELL THE SAGA CONTINUES. I think this is not the last time we will see it or maybe it will morph into something more.

A few clowning points:

• You may see some discussion about wfs on wyb’s side knowing about this as early as june of last year but they never said anything. They probably saw us speculating about wyb’s phone case when they already know the truth. lol. I can’t say for sure that they are purposely hiding something, maybe they didn’t think it was important. but i can see the ones who keep an eye out on xz on their side probably just chose to keep quiet. turns out, cpfs are the last to know about candies. 😂😂😂😂

• @rainbowsky pointed out here how this type of case may not be typically used in CHN. All because the card slot is almost useless. The way they pay is by their phone. They don’t need a train ticket or whatever for transportation too cause they have private vehicles. It’s like they both or maybe one of them went to the apple store ( in person or online ) and they saw that — decided to get a couple case. I’m thinking this is ZZ. My CPN is this is connected to WYB’s sudden use of an apple watch. The watch is good to keep track of your health so maybe ZZ gave it to him and while he was there “shopping” decided to get a phone case too for them to match. just boyfriend things. ssssshhhhhh 🤫

• THIS IS NOT THEIR USUAL TYPE OF phone case. If you’ve been following them for some time or have seen their photos with their phones out, they usually go for the ones with a design on them. of course, the style is more on their preference. So this sleek and almost simple type of iphone case appears to be a compromise for both.

but like, the “simple” or low key design has been more ZZ’s style. that’s why cpn is he bought it for them.

examples below ⬇️⬇️⬇️

• In the past, they usually changed their phone case for a specific month or season. That’s why I think ZZ’s “change” last April was only for the event ( but i could be wrong ). But for the both of them, using the same one for one year ( guessing here but most likely this is how long ) is unusual. You could say they are too busy / the case is good so why change it / they don’t wanna use graphic cases anymore/ etc etc the list of reasoning can go on and on. but you can’t deny that it’s out of the ordinary.

I think it really helps laying things out like this so we can see what is happening behind the scenes. what are the outliers. what other possibilities are there. what fits or not. usually candies are simple and clear, but some are not and needs more time to take apart and make sense of. whether you believe this or not and take it as candy is all up to you. 🫶🏼

It’s another YIZHAN Mystery. 🕵️‍♀️

-END.

#yizhan #bjyx #there is no science here i’m just clowning like i always do

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whaleofatjme1920 · 1 year

Note

How about a Scp 2030-1 (Laughy) x reader public s//e//x smut fic? I only found one lemon fic of him on wattpad so maybe you can give him a shot lol

A Good Show

[SCP 2030-1 X GN!Reader, AFAB]

[Warnings: general smut, creampie, biting/marking, Kinda public. MINORS DNI]

[AN: Sorry this is literally months late idk how to explain I’ve been up a wall. Anyways, here’s this. I don’t actually know what mood this is, and had a hell of a time even remembering what tense I’m writing in. my bad lol. 2212 words <;3]

It’s not everyday that you have a skip absolutely obsessed with you, but working for the Foundation has its merits. SCP 2030-1, also known as Laughy McLaugherson, had attached himself to you sometime last year. You had been working under someone, watching tapes, when he’d found himself captivated with your beauty. Though, through the late night visits where he would materialize through your laptop screen, your TV, at one point your shower where there were no electronics to be seen, he’d found himself helplessly infatuated with your mind too.

His obsession is dangerous, anyone could see that. You knew it, but still, here you remained. Laying on your bed, you flicked absentmindedly through channels you had no intention of actually watching. Your other hand pressed on your phone to check the time. Relatively pleased it was past midnight, you tapped the remote to the channel you knew would guarantee his.

His face wasn’t visible, but the rest of him was. He was animated as he explained the joy of coffee houses before his body paused. “Well, lookie here, folks,” he stated in his jovial, upbeat tone. “Seems we’re due for a commercial break! We’ll be back right after these short messages from our sponsors.”

You watched as his body language shifted before your TV displayed ads for products that couldn’t have existed in your current time. You squinted with a small scowl lining your lips. You wondered if he’d step through as dramatically as he usually did. You chuckled when the screen warped, suddenly holding the viscosity of warmed honey as he crawled through similar to the girl from the Ring.

“You have such a pretty laugh,” he noted as he stepped through in full, briefly fixing his tie and smoothing out his dark blue suit that almost hurt your eyes to actually gaze upon. All of this time with him slinking through your various devices and you still haven’t a clue what he looks like. You can feel that he’s smiling, but some part of his anomalous nature blocks your mind from perceiving his face. He’s got tanned skin, a light shade of brown, with dark brown hair that curls like the remnants of a gameshow host pulled from the 60s. But you don’t know the finer features of his face.

You could recall asking him about that when he first started appearing in your home. He told you he did it for your benefit.

“I’m glad you think so,” you finally replied.

He mirrored your chuckle and sat down on your bed. “I know so,” he said simply. “How are you?” He’s already gotten comfortable behind you. His long, lanky body curls around you warmly, a perfect fit to spoon you. He rubbed over your hips, your waist, and your chest before finally cupping there. His hand pressed against your chest, the pads of his fingers gingerly slipping over your nipples.

“I’m fine,” you hummed, clearly turned on by the physical touch. Your hips rolled against his subtly, or as subtly as you could manage. “What about you?”

“Eh,” he began. “Could be better.” He sounded so much more relaxed there in the space of your bedroom than when he would play host to his weird little show. “Did you want me to make some tea?” He asked as he rolled his hand down your stomach again to the hem of your shirt. He played your body like a violin, slowly coaxing your warmth without ever touching it as he moved his hand against your flesh from under your shirt. His fingers didn’t feel calloused at all, but not soft either. He works, but not in the way that shows.

You moaned softly at how easily you fell into his grasp. It isn’t the first time you’ve slept with him, but this is one of the faster times he’s managed to get you to bend to him. “No,” you answered as you bucked your hips back against him. You were nearly desperate to feel him. “You feel different,” you noted.

“Is it bad?”

You shook your head. “What’s gotten into you?”

His lips danced languidly over your neck as he continued to rub you in the right places. “You’ve never really responded to me like this before,” he mumbled. His teeth, just barely sharpened past what’s considered normal, nip at your soft skin. His hand left your nipples to fall between your legs. He let the waistband of your underwear dig into his wrist as his long fingers rolled against your lips, his thumb rubbing ghost-like circles along your clit.

You hummed once more. “You feel good,” you managed to wisp out. On the TV, you saw his show was back on. It was an empty stage, of course. He was in your room entertaining both of your combined desires. “Laughy-”

“Should we give them a show? A real show?” He inquired, voice dripping with lust and the desire to entertain. He felt you flutter even though he hadn’t pushed inside of you. On the TV, your heaving chest caged by his strong arms displayed lewdly. The audience made no sound, but he could feel they were entranced. He didn’t care whether they liked it or not, but chances are they were just as captivated in the good way as he was.

There it was. His cock, already semi-hardened, pressed against your ass. He growled playfully in your ear when you moaned once more upon the sensation of his index and middle fingers just barely dipping into your already weeping pussy.

He chuckles in that slightly condescending way that makes your heart pound. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He worked your body a little faster. His other hand wrapped around you, not caring of the somewhat awkward position as he groped at your chest again. He reveled in the pretty sounds that softly poured from your lips. “I’m going to fuck you,” he whispered in your ear before he bit down on your neck, his sharpened teeth leaving a bloomed mark on your smooth skin.

You nodded fervently. “Please,” you mewled. Usually, you’d let him take his time with you. He was the biggest fan of nestling between your legs and showing you his inhumanly long tongue and all it could do, but you wanted nothing more than for him to bury deep inside of you. The two of you shifted on the bed. You whined at how his warmth left from between your legs but you grinned when he positioned himself above you. The sound of his buckle clicking and sliding off made you press and rub your thighs together. You looked up at him hungrily, even if you couldn’t actually register his face.

He slid off your pants, your underwear, and chuckled once more upon seeing you hurriedly slid your top off as well. He puckered his lips together and you recognize the sounding whistle as that of a wolf, which garnered soft laughter from the audience. His head tipped back while your hands eagerly wrapped around his long, thick cock. He exhaled deeply while your fingers traced over his veins, working him up to that unbearable hardness. His hands spread your legs apart while he fell to his forearms and loomed heavily over you. “You okay?” He checked once more as his hardened cock pressed against your entrance.

“Yes,” you said as you angled your hips upwards. You felt heat rise to your cheeks as the tip of his cock slid up and down to coat itself in your arousal. “I want you to fuck me and for them to watch.” You watched with wide eyes as the head of his cock split you open. Your breath hitched as he disappeared inside of you, inch by inch. Your pussy fluttered. Instinctively, you reached your hands up to his biceps and dug in as hard as you could. You gripped his dark blue suit and let your eyes squeeze shut as he pushed in deeper.

“How long has it been since I last fucked you?” He asked through grit teeth. “You feel so good but I-goddamn it-!” The words were lost on his tongue as he bottomed out deep inside of you. He moved his equally blue eyes over to the TV where the audience could clearly see he was balls deep inside of you. Your pussy stretched to accommodate him, and he reveled in the sight. He pulled his hips back and let himself become absolutely mesmerized by how his cock dragged back before burying deep inside of you again. He groaned deeply upon feeling you grip him harder.

You cried out softly and wrapped your legs around his waist. “Oh gods,” you moaned. “Laughy please-” you pleaded wantonly, “don’t keep me waiting. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me-!”

Not one to disobey a request said oh so sweetly, he did as you asked. “Your wish is my command,” he smoothly granted. His hips snapped back and forth. He groaned deeply and let his lips fall back to your neck as he pressed hard against you. Thrust after thrust, he found himself absolutely lost in the pleasure of your body. “Keep moaning for me. I don’t give a damn who complains, I want them to know you feel so fucking good because of me.”

Your songs of pleasure grew louder and louder. A tight, warm coil in your belly grew hotter as his cock pressed you open. You panted like a bitch in heat. You suppose that’s how he made you feel. It was appropriate for the situation. Your legs locked so tightly around him refused to loosen as his thrusts grew erratic. You squeezed his cock tightly. “Cum inside of me.” Your mouth was speaking faster than your head could rationalize. “Please, cum inside of me. Fill me up.”

Something about your words spurred him on. He bit at your neck once more to leave those pretty marks your supervisors would positively detest as he grew rougher. He nudged your vision over to the TV to let you see exactly what he was doing to you. He was pounding into you at a dizzying pace. You were so wet that you’d soaked the bed and still had the potential to keep going. He grinned upon seeing your reaction. “You want me to cum inside of you?” He teasingly prodded.

“Yes,” you answered. “More than anything. Fill me up so much I can’t take anymore.” Your body craved him and needed him.

“Then cum on my cock first.” Cockily, he sharply rolled his hips forwards so the tip of his cock pressed against your cervix. In any other situation, it might’ve hurt but gods, part of his anomalous nature must have been suppressing all sensations even hinting to that. He pressed so thickly against you, the tight coil cracked under the pressure, snapped and rushed out from you in white hot pleasure.

Your pussy fluttered and squeezed around his cock as you arched your back and screamed. You didn’t mean to scream, at least not like that, but the pleasure was far too great to ignore. Tears welled in your eyes and clumped together in pearly beads before they rolled down your cheeks. You gripped him tightly as you rode out your orgasm all the while still begging him to unload everything he had deep inside of you.

He was never terribly loud when he came, but something about seeing his cock pressed deep inside of you, it made his heart spin. He groaned deeply as he rutted against you and stilled, his cock twitching as his balls rested flush against your ass. “Fuck you feel so good,” he rasped breathlessly as thick, sticky ropes of cum spurt against your cervix and filled you to the brim. He rolled his hips against you as if to fuck it deep inside of you. His lips pressed gingerly to your neck, even going so far as to flit across your jaw before his eyes caught the sight of the thick white liquid dripping out from your pussy and around his cock onto the bed. He laughed softly before pushing his hips forwards once more.

“Look at that,” he cooed as ons of his hands moved up to your lower abdomen and softly pushed down. “Some of it escaped.”

You looked up at him and felt more heat rise to your face. “Laughy,” you warned. Your tone may have conveyed some form of annoyance but he could recognize that hunger from miles away. “You don’t want me to give you another load?” He cocked his head to the side like a lost puppy. He started to move his hips back. “And I wanted my audience to see an x-ray view,” he trailed off.

You squeezed your legs around his waist once more to draw him in closer. Too embarrassed to say it outright, but craving him oh so badly, you pulled at his collar.

Laughy himself was surprised at the action. He suppressed a yelp before his lips met yours. And he laughed. Genuinely this time. “You have such an odd way of telling me what you want. Don’t they, folks?”

From the TV, a stereotypical chorus of ‘aw!’ filled the room followed by the manufactured wave of clapping.

#scp x reader #minors dni #scp 2030-1 x reader #scp 2030 x reader #x reader #reader insert #secure contain protect x reader #scp headcanons #scp smut

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cyrille-leclair-de-fontaine · 1 month

Text

Parallel Timeline Convergence Context

[Scaramod and I were writing fanfiction for our blorbos while they were on haitus, so please point out any references that confuse you, and we will provide context. Neither of us are good at keeping the separate universes straight lol.]

[VERY long snip below.]

Too many years of keeping himself alive had left Cyrille extremely attuned to his surroundings, and the static sound was enough to stir him from his light sleep. He is still for a moment, counting heads in the dim light, and notices that one of the hammocks is empty. Slowly, carefully, he extracts himself from next to Scara and locates his cane, slipping out of the room as quietly as possible. He pauses as he enters the living room, frowning at seeing Sakura awake.

"Hey… what's wrong?"

Sakura didn’t seem to hear him at first, but it was clear that they were the source of the static noise. In front of them was some kind of large screen- completely holographic, and it was a bright white.

"Sakura…?" Cautiously, Cyrille inches forward and around so he is visible. "Hey. Sakura."

Sakura flinches, dropping the thing they were holding- which was the cloak that Chero had made for them. They had been holding the end part of it and rubbing their thumb over the white flowers that had been sewed onto the bottom.

They turned their head to face Cyrille, blinking. “Oh- my apologies. Did I wake you up?” They tap the screen with one of their fingers and it dims. “You can go back to sleep. I’m fine.”

"You don't look or sound fine to me. Usually being up in the middle of the night at all does not equate to fine."

He shuffles over to sit on the other end of the couch, peering at them with a squint as if he could figure out what's wrong by staring at them hard enough.

Sakura shrugs, moving the screen to their other side- the side Cyrille wasn’t on- and dimming it some more. “I typically don’t fall asleep until around 3 to 4 in the morning. Thoughts keep me awake.”

"Ah." He leans back, giving them some space. "I would say that's unhealthy, but I think it would be hypocritical of me to call you out for something like that."

“Everything we nag each other about in this house is hypocritical. We’re all just kind of mirrors to each other.” They reach forward and pick up their cloak again, resuming the motion of rubbing their thumb against the white flowers.

"Would it help to talk about any of those thoughts keeping you up?"

They’re silent for a bit. “The white screen is a part of another one of my abilities. It’s basically an audio version of all my memories. I may not seem like it, but I can be quite forgetful. There are times where I couldn’t even remember my own name.”

They cross their legs so that they’re sitting in a criss-cross position.

“So usually every night, I play the most significant memories. Or I start with what I could first remember on Sunday, then play through all the memories up until the next sunday. When I listen to them, I’m able to remember what my brain keeps trying to force me to forget.”

They sigh. “I’ve just gotten to the memories I usually hate listening to, for some reason. It’s nerving me slightly.”

"...that's pretty brave of you. Trying to remember." He tilts his head back to stare at the ceiling. "I'm missing seven years, myself, and I've always been too scared to try and get them back. Based on how I am now, it can't have been anything good."

“I’d rather remember and be able to process it than forget and never know why I’m always sad when I look at these flowers,” Sakura gestures to the white flowers on the cloak. “They’re egret orchids. Chero’s talked about them before- and so has someone else, but I can’t remember who.” They pause. “It is your life, you know. You can always try and get them back if you really wanted- I could even help you if you’d like. But I’d recommend not doing so right now- you have enough going on in your life as is.”

He chuckles dryly. "I'm not sure I want those years back. Again, they can't have been anything good. I had just lost everything, before my memory cuts out. And I don't have much more now than I did then, except a few handy skills that are the sole reason I've been able to stay alive. I'd much prefer to leave those memories wherever they are hiding."

“Your choice. But do remember that if you ever want to know those seven years, you can just come ask me. If you’re comfortable with that, of course.”

"Mm. I doubt it. But thanks." He turns his head to look at them again. "I came out here to check on you, when did it get turned around?"

“I’ve been told I have that effect on people. I’m good at changing the topic.” They laugh a bit. “But really, I’m sure I’ll be okay.”

"Will be, but aren't now. Is there any way I can help with that?"

They turn their head back to the white screen, which makes a little static chirp. “If you really want to, you can stay while I listen to this. Then you can help if something goes wrong.”

"Sure, I'll stay." He shifts a bit closer to bump his shoulder against theirs in support. "I'm ready when you are."

Sakura nods, pushing the screen back so they could click a few things on it. The static grows louder before the audio starts playing.

“What? You want something from me?” That’s Sakura’s voice. It sounds significantly different though.

“Uhm- no.” Younger Chero’s voice.

“What’s your name? Mine is-“

“Chero.” Audio-Sakura cuts off Audio-Chero before he can finish his sentence. “Don’t act like you weren’t the most famous kid in the village. I know who you are.”

“Most famous kid in the village?” Audio-Chero sounds genuinely confused.

“Yeah. You were the adults favorite. Dunno why, cause it’s pretty clear you got something wrong in that head of yours.”

The audio stops there, which causes real-Sakura to stare at the screen with a frown.

Cyrille just sits silently, glancing sidelong at Sakura's expression. It's not his place to comment on what he hears. He's just here for support.

Sakura taps something else on the screen, and the static noise echoes through the house again.

“I fucking said we shouldn’t have stayed there. Didn’t I? Didn’t I literally say that?” Sakura again, but they sounded a bit older from the first recording. “This- oh, I’m so fucking glad that bitch Jay died. She deserved it. I really wish I could’ve killed her myself.”

There’s a pause that makes it seem like Sakura had turned to face another person in the memory. “And you just followed a person like that? Did she do that to other people too?”

“Not that I know of.” This voice wasn’t Chero or Sakura. It was a lot softer and more calm, contrasting how angry Audio-Sakura sounded. Real-world Sakura tightens their grip on the end of the cloak by the slightest bit.

“Not that you know of, Leia. She totally could’ve assaulted other people like she did to Chero. She’s worse than Rhea!”

“I wouldn’t say worse than Rhea, but Jay was still a fucking ass.” Sakura muttere.

Leia on the audio sighs, and a noise was made that sounded like she was patting Sakura’s shoulder. “She’s gone now. She can’t hurt Chero anymore. Isn’t that a good thing, blossom?”

Audio-Sakura sighs. “Yeah, I guess. But I’m still mad about it. Even if she didn’t do anything to me- I just feel bad for Chero.”

“He’ll be okay. Shaken up, sure, but he’s alive. Most of the time, people like Jay kill their victims so that they don’t get in trouble.”

Leia sighs too, for the second time. “Well, fuck her then. I hope she goes to whatever hell may exist in this world. I’m gonna be a much better leader than she was. If anything, I’m getting everyone the fuck out of this hellhole.”

“Everyone is a lot of people.”

“Well- okay. If not everyone, then at least you and Chero. We’ll kill Rhea, take her power, and then use it to bust out of whatever illusion thing we’re stuck in, and then go home and burn our village to the ground for allowing kids to be sacrificed. That reasonable enough for you?”

Leia laughs. “I’ll follow you wherever you go, my dear.”

The audio ends.

Sakura stares down at the egret orchids. Cyrille silently offers his hand for them to hold if they want to, and they subconsciously take it, tapping the screen a third time.

The static plays once again.

“Leia?” Sakura again. Slightly older, much closer to the verge of tears. “Leia. Leia?”

There’s no reply.

“You fucker. You promised me. I told you not to go, Leia. Why didn’t you listen to me?”

Real-world Sakura’s eyes narrow slightly.

“You motherfucker. Why did I let myself love you if I knew you were going to leave me?” Audio-Sakura sounds like they’re holding back tears.

“Sakura- Sakura!” Chero this time. His voice hasn’t changed all too much- if anything, it sounds like his current one. “What happ-.. Leia? Did-“

“I’m going to kill everybody here, Chero. I’m going to find who did this and make sure they fucking pay. She didn’t even deserve to die.”

A noise is made as if Sakura had stood up.

“Sakura, don’t do anything you’ll regret later. I know you’re mad about Leia, but- but killing an entire camp full of other kids isn’t going to solve anything.”

“Okay? Killing her didn’t solve anything, but someone in this fucking hellhole did it anyway! Not everything has to solve something else, dimwit.”

Audio-Chero and Audio-Sakura are both silent.

“Where did you put your gun?”

“I’m not telling you. You are not killing anyone.”

“What are you gonna do if I try? You can’t stop me, fuckface. We both know who’s the stronger one here.”

“Sakura-“

“Move.”

Audio-Sakura pushes away Chero, and they begin walking off somewhere.

“Leia wouldn’t want you to do this.”

Audio-Sakura stops walking.

“Oh, so you’re playing that fucking card now? Okay, riddle me this, since you’re so fucking smart.” They turn around and begin walking back towards Chero, each step more and more aggressive. “Leia wouldn’t have wanted me to kill everyone, right? That’s what you said? Well Leia also wouldn’t have wanted to die. Leia wouldn’t have wanted to leave us- leave me behind. Leia wouldn’t have wanted to break into The Office if she knew she wasn’t going to break back out. And yet- guess who’s body is right fucking there!

“We can’t get everything we want, Chero. I’m learning this now- and you should too, before the same thing happens to you.”

They turn around again, and they actually get a couple paces farther. The audio goes to static for a bit, but then voices could be heard within the static.

“I said leave me alone, Chero. I’m doing them a favor. No one’s making it out of this place alive- might as well speed up the fucking process.”

“Sakura, please. You’re going to regret this, I promise you.”

“No I’m not. You don’t know me.”

“Yes, I do. I’ve watched you in the village- I’ve watched you here. I’ve been around you for what could be considered centuries now. I know you, Sakura. You aren’t a murderer.”

“…”

Receding footsteps.

“Sakura-“

“Let go of me.”

Cyrille gives Sakura's hand a gentle squeeze, trying not to draw any connections that feel too familiar. Why did I let myself love you if I knew you were going to leave me, huh? She didn’t even deserve to die.

No. No thinking tonight. Just be here for Sakura… Anything else can come later. Or not at all, preferably.

“Let go of me, Chero.”

“Sakura. Just listen to m-“

“I said let go!”

A gunshot.

Then the audio ends.

Cyrille glances over at Sakura again, trying to gauge their emotional state. Does he need to coax them to bed? Wake Chero?

Sakura is silent for a while, staring down at the egret orchids. Their grip on the cloak had tightened even more.

“I remember what happened after that,” they say. They can’t tell if they’re talking to Cyrille or to someone who wasn’t even there. “I didn’t shoot Chero. My arm had shot to the left at the last minute, so the bullet just barely missed his head. He left me alone after that, and I ended up killing everyone else at the camp.” A pause. “One hundred and seventy six children died because of me. Because I was too mad to think straight.

“And then I made my way back to Chero, and we both cried for a while until Rhea showed up. That’s when she told us that everything we had gone through was part of a carefully controlled social experiment. That placing over 200 kids in some life or death survival scenario was just a test to see if anyone would come out alive. After over 500 centuries, she said, two kids had finally made it past the first test. Take a wild guess who those two kids were.”

That last part was most likely directed at Cyrille.

“I had never been so mad in my entire life. I had lost Leia for what was basically nothing. I wanted to lash out, I wanted to scream and cry, I wanted to kill Rhea right then and there- more than I wanted to when I was first sacrificed.

“But my own anger scared me. And it still does. If I could kill 176 people without a second thought, doesn’t that make me a danger to society? I had told those 176 people that I would try my best to protect them, but I killed every single one of them without mercy- and it turned out that Rhea was the one who killed Leia. I had almost killed Chero because I was so mad at him for what turned out to be nothing.

“So I had just smothered my anger and complied. I think that’s when I started to forget important things like this- all of my anger is tied to everything that happened in that realm. In order to bury my anger, I had to bury any memories that would make me want to lash out again. I didn’t want to be the cause of another mass murder.”

They fall silent again, lost in thought.

The screen beeped in what could be considered a sad tone.

Cyrille waits patiently for them to finish speaking, still holding their hand. His expression is subdued, and his voice low when he speaks again. "I can't imagine how difficult that was for you. I know I'm not qualified to give advice to something on that scale, but I can promise to be here to listen."

Sakura doesn’t process Cyrille’s words until a minute or two after they’re spoken, and they respond by gently squeezing Cy’s hand. Then, they lift their head and turn to the screen. “There’s one more left for tonight. Do you want to go back to bed now?”

"After hearing that… no offense, but I'd rather not leave you alone. I'll stay, if you don't mind."

“Okay. That’s fine.”

Sakura lifts their hand and taps the screen a final time. The static fills the house again- it lasts slightly longer than the times before.

“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you.”

“Happy birthday, dear Sakura. Happy birthday to you!”

It was a mix of Leia and Small-Chero singing. Leia’s voice was louder, though.

“I told you guys you don’t have to do this. Today’s just another day.” Sakura’s voice.

“Another day that happens to be the day you were born! What kind of people would we be if we didn’t celebrate?” Leia laughs.

“Decent people still. I wouldn’t be offended if you forgot.”

“Well, I would.” Chero says. “Shouldn’t you celebrate a person’s birth if you care about them?”

“I mean, considering what kind of environment we’re stuck in, I don’t think it’s safe to have a big celebration or whatever.” Sakura scoffs.

“It’s not a big celebration. We’ve already sung, so we’ll give you the gifts we made, then if you really want, we can just continue today like it really is just a normal day.” Leia says. You can hear the smile in her voice.

“Fine. Since I know you’ll throw a fit if I don’t comply.” Sakura sighs. Leia laughs again.

“Chero, you can go first. I have to actually get mine because I may have left it back at camp.” Leia chuckles nervously, and there are footsteps in the audio as if she had run off.

“If she gets hurt on the way, I’m going to kick her into a ravine.” Sakura grumbles. Chero doesn’t seem to hear this.

“Well- here you go. It took me a good while, but I handmade it myself.” Chero says. He sounds happier than in the other recordings- even happier than he does in the real world.

There’s a bit of silence, implying the motion of Sakura taking whatever gift was given to them.

“I didn’t know you could sew.” Sakura comments. It sounds like they’re trying to hide the happiness in their voice, and is absolutely failing at it.

“My mom taught me because she thought I was gonna grow up into a woman and become a dressmaker or something. But I guess it came in handy.”

“..Thanks. I like it. Did you add the white flowers at the end?”

“I did, but it was Leia’s idea. Something about different symbolisms and such. She told me a popular interpretation of white egret orchids is the phrase ‘My thoughts will follow you into your dreams’. I can’t confirm or deny that information, because I didn’t know about Egret Orchids until she told me about them.” Chero laughs softly.

“Of course she did. That idiot.” Sakura says, but despite the words spoken. their voice was full of affection.

“Okay! I’m back and I got the thing!” Leia’s voice reappears on the recording, along with the sound of approaching footsteps. “Close your eyes, blossom. And give me your left hand.”

“..I’m not going to question it. You won’t give me an answer anyway.” Sakura says, sighing again.

There’s silence on the recording once more.

“Okay! Open!” Leia sounds very excited.

More silence, but it doesn’t last long.

“Dear, you know I don’t like the color yellow. That’s your favorite color, not mine.” Sakura sounds amused.

“I know, silly. But look at mine! We’re matching! I got Chero to teach me to sew so I could make them. Did you know making ribbon like this is actually hard?”

The screen’s white glare falters for a moment, and an image pops up on it. What could be presumed to be Sakura’s hand had a pastel yellow ribbon tied on their wrist in the shape of a bow.

Holding that hand was presumably Leia’s hand- a darker shade of skin, but it was more like a pastel brown. On Leia’s hand was a pastel pink ribbon- tied in the same fashion as the one Sakura was wearing, except on the right hand instead of the left.

The image stays up as the audio continues.

“So you two just bonded over sewing stuff and didn’t even invite me? Wow, I’m truly offended.” Sakura said, their voice full of playful sarcasm.

“Oh, please. You would’ve gotten distracted halfway through. And you didn’t even see the cute little detail yet! Turn your hand over so you can see your wrist.” Leia’s emotions flow in a quick pattern- from partially annoyed to excited again within seconds.

There’s silence again.

“‘Heaven’?” Sakura reads, confused.

More silence.

“‘Blossom’!” Leia finishes. “Our little duo name! Since my name means ‘child of heaven’ and I always call you ‘blossom’. I was originally going to give you the pink one so it would correspond to you, but I decided to give you the yellow one instead. So whenever we’re apart, you can just look at the ribbon and think of me, and I can do the same when you go out to gather materials and stuff!”

Sakura is silent. Then, they sniff.

“Hey- why are you crying? Did I say something wrong?” Leia panicks.

“No, you dumbass. I love the gift. Thank you.” Sakura says through tears. Leia sighs in relief.

“Happy birthday, blossom. I love you.”

“Love you too, you absolute imbecile.”

The recording ends.

Slowly, Cyrille lets go of their hand to wrap an arm around their shoulders, offering silent support. He's never been good with words, and this is a situation so far removed from anything he's ever experienced, that he thinks it's probably best not to try.

Sakura hides their face in Cyrille’s side, fighting back every urge to cry in fear that they would get angry. “That’s the last birthday I remember celebrating. The last one that was mine, at least.” They mutter. “After that, January 4th really did just become another day.”

They fall silent once more.

Unsure how to comfort them, he mentally wrestles with himself, before offering tentatively, "I haven't ever really celebrated mine. It doesn't have to be a big deal if you don't want it to be. But… if you want, I think I have a couple cake recipes from Granny Rosa, and we could do a little something? Even though it's late for it now…"

“...okay. We can. I just want to lay here for a little while first, if that’s okay with you.”

"Take as long as you need." He tucks them close as much as he can, wishing that he could be even slightly more equipped for this. He seems to be helping, at least?

Sakura bumps their head against Cyrille’s side as a form of thanks- something that Chero had done earlier that day. They close their eyes and let their left hand hang outside of the hold.

As they do, the air around their hand shimmers slightly.

…

Huh?

Sakura opens their eyes again in confusion, staring down at their hand. They move it again as if testing something. The air moves in the same odd way as it did the first time.

...That’s odd. Is there some magic on it or something?

They internally check where their magic is currently being directed, and as they suspected- there’s some kind of magic on their hand.

“Hm,” they say out loud. “That’s weird.”

They remove the magic on their hand with an internal sigh, but then they freeze. No longer hidden by glamour, there was now a pastel yellow ribbon tied to Sakura’s left wrist.

"Is that…?" Cyrille trails off, a mirror ache in his chest for Sakura.

“It’s been here the entire time.” Sakura says, glancing back to the screen that was still displaying the image of Sakura and Leia’s hands. “This is what’s been eating up my magic this whole time. And I didn’t even know until now.”

Carefully, they turn their hand so that their wrist was in view.

Just as they suspected, the word “heaven” was sewed onto the wrist part of the ribbon in a darker shade of yellow.

“…”

Sakura curls into Cyrille’s side again and begins to cry.

He wraps his other arm around them, tucking them under his chin and beginning to gently rub their back. Again, words fall short. What could he possibly say that could compare to something that hurts this much, this deeply? But he can hold them, at least. Crying alone is always worse.

Sakura can’t bring themself to hold the hand with the ribbon on it, so they let it hang again as they silently cry. It hurts far too much for so many reasons. And they completely forgot all about her. What kind of person does that make them? Sakura closes their eyes as they cry, barely even moving.

They don’t see the slight blur of the air around them. They don’t see the soft white ‘shadow’ that leans against Sakura’s back with its eyes closed, wearing an expression that was just as sad as Sakura’s themselves.

They don’t see the ghostly hand that holds onto theirs, which is tied with a pastel pink ribbon.

The figure hums for a moment, then opens its eyes and blinks at Cyrille.

Leia mouths thank you before closing her eyes again and slowly fading away.

Slightly stunned, Cyrille stays quiet, certain that telling Sakura about that glimpse of a long-dead friend would only make them even more upset. But… well, if that ghost thanked him for this, he must be doing something right.

Sakura cries for a while longer, but then eventually they stop. They gently headbutt Cyrille to alert him that they’re okay now. At least, as okay as you can be after re-learning that you have a dead lover that was killed by your worst enemy.

#🌸 anon #alt world context

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storiesofsvu · 2 months

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it's thursday bitches

spoilers under the cut

Okay, I was organizing fic and writing shit for the first two hours so I couldn’t live react BUT:

That ep of Mothership was phenomenal. Good job team.

Barely paid attention to Toronto, I can’t get on board yet.

Now it’s SVU time.

“happy hunting” ewww… puke in my mouth, that’s disgusting.

Girl WHAT THE FUCK. I don’t care if you JUST met someone at a hostel that night, you don’t fucking leave them alone in a bar when they’re visibly really drunk and with two guys all over her, come on.

Okay, I’m starting a Velasco line tally: 1

OOOO a full scene! Look at our boy go!

Okay yeah he is finally getting some screen time

These boy may not be the actual perps in this situation, but there is no doubting they’re pieces of shit.

This is gonna be one of those cases with the last minute twist that the other girl is the actual perp, right? That’s why there’s no dna?

I don’t like this squad. I understand rollins not coming back/kelli not wanting to come back (hello, she just had a baby, and would you want to go back to a workplace you were fired from full time?) but I will forever be salty about them getting rid of muncy and churlish, they FIT with the squad, they worked through their issues and worked well together. It was refreshing to have the younger generation coming in and being mentored by liv, fin and Bruno. I like the fbi girl, she’s a great actress, but the vibe isn’t the same.

Ohhhh I forgot about the other guy from the beginning lol

Okay but I DO love three powerful older women interrogating pathetic young twenty something boys

LOOOL and this dynamic of good cop bad cop between Bruno and joe?! LOVE IT.

Bruno is fucking killing me rn, this is hilarious. Prime television.

The fact that there is still another hour of television after this? I’m TIRED. And like..grey’s starts soon too so that’s gonna fuck me up.

This episode has fully sold me on wanting Bruno to destroy me. Sir. Pls.

Something that fell into your lap?! Liv…baby… you wanted to take in every abandoned kid at svu over the past 25 years. You were the mom calvin deserved, you wanted to adopt, you have ALWAYS wanted kids/to be a mother, its been part of her character arc literally the entire time the show was on air. Yes, technically noah kinda fell into her lap, but the way it was addressed here did not seem right lol.

Okay, that episode was actually super good compared to the last few weeks!

Don’t trust this captain at ALL. but like, I don’t think we’re supposed to LOL.

“I don’t know… im not his mother.. thank GOD” lol… we love Jet.

I miss bell…is she gonna pop up at some point? We need her sass/banter

The fact that she went out to do this super nice thing by replacing the flowers for jet cause she let her stay with her and THAT’S when she was attacked. Fuck this. Ugh.

The fact that they’re going through so much effort to block the face/voice of this killer means that we know who they are already, right?

BUT also… if the captain hadn’t called jet specifically to get Elliot to his fucking iab appointment she would have been home and able to protect the girl… so like… im still super sus of her

All of these crusty old white men all look alike and I cannot tell the difference between them. Is it the cap’s dad? Brother? Husband? Random poker night connection?

DIVORCE???!!!! I DID NOT SEE THAT COMING.

…okay but now they could be together somewhere down the road? Like.. they really did bomb us with that ship so I haven’t had time to decide if I like it or not but we’ll see how things go.

Okay so the brother AND the dad are both in on it? Maybe the cap isn’t actually sus and will be blindsided?

Meh, that ep wasn’t that good tonight tbh but two outta our aint bad!

#law and order #law and order svu #svu #law and order special victims unit #law and order organized crime #law and order toronto #law and order spoilers #spoilers

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lilybug-02 · 2 years

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I had that Deltarune AU dream finally! It’s not very good but I think it’s an interesting dream at least haha.

Dream story time :) 💕📚🧋Get cosy. 🍵🪴

So in the dream, a new chapter had come out and I had waited a while before I had the time to play it. I booted up the game and upon entering, the chapter began in a new random Darkworld. Focused in the Victorian era, with Darkners in flowery dresses and tuxitos.

Strangely the only party members I had on my team were Kris, Susie and Berdly, with Ralsie being no where in sight. Susie seemed uneasy and reminisced on how she didn’t remember any events leading up to being in the Darkworld, with Berdly on the other hand, being mostly silent, having little to no dialogue, and mainly being there for battles.

All seemed okay up until I started battling these little bat enemies. Whenever a battle started and the battle menu opened up, the only option available was FIGHT.

I didn’t think much of it at first, as many of the bats were easy and would usually flee before getting seriously hurt… up until one of the bats refused to move. Apparently it was an old army general or something and with how much we had fought it, I could tell if we hit it again it would die. I didn’t have any other options on my screen, so after a few seconds of feeling bad, I pressed FIGHT and the screen froze on its horrified bloody face. My computer screen glitching out and exited the battle as quick as possible. Leaving me shell shocked.

After looking back at the screen, Kris’s poor little sprite was very visibly upset and Susie didn’t speak at all after this, only spouting the occasional line about how this must be a dream. Berdly just strait up disappeared after this point.

It felt like a creepy pasta by the end, with my dream even focusing on how forums online were talking about their experiences in the chapter. About how some theorized about Kris had forced the player to FIGHT, the weird disappearing Berdly, and how Susie knew all along it wasn’t a dream. Crazy stuff.

But that’s were the dream left off. Very interesting creepyPasta AU- bad ending -videogame plot if you ask me 👾📚🪴lol

#deltarune dream #bread #deltarune #deltarune au #deltarune au??#lol no but I might make some art if I’m feeling up to it #silly creepy pasta dream #dream logic is real bad sometimes so in some of this I had to connect some dots but this was the basic gist #crazy stuff

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vro0m · 1 year

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vro0m’s rewatch - 150/310

2015 Malaysian GP

Alright, round 2. And this time I do have a full broadcast!

It was a wet quali, in the midst of a thunderstorm. Oh ho ho. Oh ho ho ho ho ho! Let's wait for the quali report, but I see interesting things happened. (Well we never got the quali report for some weird reason but Seb split the Mercedes! Lewis is on pole.)

Alright so Lewis explains his pole lap to us.

He says, and we sure know it, it's his 150th race. Good to know I counted right lol. He says the visibility in the cockpit was way worse than what we see on the on-board. He says you never really know where the grip is and the car is constantly moving which is "quite fun".

At some point we see he had HUGE oversteer. In the cockpit, we see he's turning his steering wheel all the way to the left while he's actually taking a right turn. Fortunately he caught it. Brundle asks how quick he puts it aside that he almost crashed and Lewis is like immediately? lol cause the corner was right there so he has to keep going. "It doesn't live with you at all," Brundle says.

Lewis says no, he corrected it and was hoping he was still gonna make it through the next one. At the end of the debrief, Brundle points to his mirror on the screen and says he might see a little red there during the race. "Concerned?" he asks. "Ferrari looking strong." Lewis says "as long as it's in the mirror it's not a problem."

In the driver parade, Nico says the start is gonna be important, he'll try to overtake Seb, and he'll try to catch Lewis too but it's going to be more difficult. Johnny asks if it's important for him to beat Lewis here, as far as momentum goes. "One could say that it's quite important, yes," he answers. It's going to be challenging tyre-wise with the high deg here, there's gonna be more pit stops than in Melbourne, so strategy will be important.

Brundle says Nico said in the post quali press conference that he wasn't good enough that day and that he keeps saying that while Lewis is extremely confident at the moment. He has a lot of public support as well.

For some reason while Johnny interviews Max in the parade Nico pours water down his back? OK. Weird. Anyway Brundle says he wouldn't choose Max for a night out because he's extremely serious about it all but he would definitely choose him for his team because he's exceptional. He says after quali, he was 6th, he was actually unsatisfied with his driving and thought he could have done better. Simon says that much like Lewis he was using karting lines. Brundle says he indeed has that experience but also told them he'd watched all of last year's quali, which also happened in the wet, to learn. It’s still pretty impressive that he was able to apply that knowledge. (No this isn't becoming a Max rewatch but Max will definitely become relevant at some point so I think it's interesting to shine some light on him here and there).

Johnny asks Lewis if he's listening to One Direction. Lewis says "no that's your kind of music, man." He smiles.

He asks him if it's gonna be a “catch me if you can” kind of race. "I don't know, i think the Ferraris are looking quite quick so Sebastian is gonna be definitely there in the fight and especially also Nico is very close." He goes on to talk about the temperature and how the tyres are gonna be melting so it's gonna be a challenge of who can look after their tyres the longest. Johnny asks if he has a good idea of when to look after his tyres and when to push on this car. Lewis smiles. "You're always looking after them, there is no question in-between which one it's… you're always looking after them." Johnny asks if he's confident for this one. He hums. He says he's never really approached a race feeling like he's confident, he just studies and does what he has to do and drives his hardest.

Simon says to Brundle that he learned watching an interview he had with Lewis, that Lewis carries around a notebook in which he takes extensive notes. Brundle says that's something he casually brought up in their conversation. He says that it reminds you that he's not just about natural speed but he studies. Which I think is a good thing to underline because in 2014 they were acting like Nico was analytical and Lewis instinctive when it's not that simple. And here you go : Brundle says with this new Formula 1 it's easy to believe that it would come easier to Nico because he's seen as more cerebral and a more "thinking driver" when Lewis is seen as more of a "natural driver" and it's not actually true and Lewis is feeding into all the things he needs to to win.

Yeah. Let's take a minute to unravel that thread. So far Lewis has been described regularly as this emotional and instinctive person. They claim he's very emotional in the car, they claim he drives with natural talent more than anything. We've heard it brought up again and again. I'm thinking back on a pole lap debrief (maybe it was in Malaysia 2014, actually?) where Lewis was asked how he knows where to brake in the wet and is it instinct and he says yes but then goes on to say you also learn lap after lap. It's interesting because they have this image of him being extremely emotion-led, sometimes almost condescendingly, when he's shown them again and again that it wasn't true. Like. Think back on all the times I've brought up in my reviews that whoever journalist was surprised by Lewis ability to think while driving. They keep trying to maintain that idea that he's just pure talent in the face of contrary evidence. And in 2014 they tried to weave this narrative that Lewis was Emotion against Nico's (very germanic btw) Reason. And it's stupid af. It's about time they realise that Lewis is a hard worker and quite analytical in his approach to racing, actually. He needs immense control as we've already talked about. The only way to gain such control is to understand as much as you can about what you're doing and all the things that influence that. And that's what he's doing. He's learning.

There could also be some things to say about the fact that in our occidental and extremely binary cultures, in the reason vs emotion "debate", reason is usually associated with masculinity and emotion with femininity. If you push that a bit further there's also something to be said about the racist narrative in which POCs are often being associated with natural or even animalistic elements vs white people being reasonable and civilised. Kind of an overall nature vs nurture essentialist parallel. Now don't twist my words, I'm not saying them thinking Lewis is an instinctive driver is racism. I'm just saying it's interesting in that context that they seem to have taken several years to come to terms with the fact that he's not just that. Anyway I don't have factual elements to elaborate on these parallels so it's more of a 'keep that in mind as a possible relevant aspect of this' than a 'it's definitely part of their narrative' thing or an actual theory. Let's move on.

There's another quali controversy in which Nico has possibly blocked Lewis. Nico gave up on his lap and slowed down while Lewis was right behind. He still got a purple sector so it didn't impact him but it's kinda weird. Bruno Senna says it's especially weird from the team to not have told them about their respective positions and runs etc. to avoid it. Simon says something even weirder then happened during the written press conference. Lewis is being talked to and Nico gets there and says like he’s a journalist : "yeah hello Nico Rosberg Mercedes AMG here. There are lots of comments on Twitter saying Nico blocked you, is it true? I blocked you on your second timed lap?" Lewis apparently then replied "I think you should ask him (aka Nico)" which made the journalists laugh and then Nico got pissed and said it wasn't funny and left. ?????????? What the absolute fuck

Anyway they all agree Lewis has the upper hand at the moment and Senna says Lewis was a bit up and down in 2014 whereas he's very calm now which is good for him.

There's then a whole segment about Ferrari being absolutely fucking up for the last few years and all the people who've been replaced because of it and it's all waaaaayyy too familiar. Anyway it's now Maurizio Arrivabene. They've had 3 TP in a year, says Brundle, some technical people leaving and they're also moving factories. What a mess.

Ah, Ted informs us one driver will not start the race. Will Stevens? Who even is that. So there were doubts as to whether his car would be fixed before the race and it's not... Oh, it's a Marussia driver. That explains a lot.

There's also a whole segment about the conflict between RBR and Renault. I won't elaborate on it too much but as we touched on last time, RBR uses a Renault engine and it doesn't seem to be doing well this year.

As we get closer to the race we see Lewis hanging out in the garage with Bono.

Alright it's time. 40% chance of rain.

Ted says Lewis complained his steering wheel was left out in the sun and is now "roasting hot to hold".

Formation lap.

The top 10 is on mediums. Actually everyone is, except the McLarens.

They're racing!

Nico is already wheel to wheel with Seb while Lewis goes away. At the exit of the first corner it's still Seb ahead. Maldonado has a puncture. Raikkonen has a puncture. And Ericsson is off and out. Max is told to let whoever his teammate is (Sainz) ahead as he's quicker. But there's a Safety Car for Ericsson. Lewis pits. Nico pits. Seb doesn't. Many people pit. Very close releases… Mmh Lewis asks if his front wing is okay. Bono says they think so and will look at the replay. What happened? Seb says something about the Mercedes slowing down and then speeding up before they pitted. I don't really get it. Then Raikkonen asks if he can overtake "these people" because they're not even trying to catch up to the Safety Car. Ted says the Mercedes were indeed going 10 seconds slower than they needed to under Safety Car which is what Seb meant by the +10 he mentioned in his radio. Ted also explains that he didn't pit because they're trying to two-stop which sounds a bit insane rn. Here we go again. In virtue of the pit stops Lewis is still virtually in the lead but currently P6 trying to overtake Perez. Massa says he has no power and slows down. Rosberg is told to give it everything "when you need too" which is. I mean. Yeah? Obviously? There's a train behind Hulkenberg who's currently P2 and it's slowing down the Mercs.

On lap 10, Seb is 7.8 seconds in the clear. Behind Hulkenberg it's Grosjean, then Sainz, then Lewis in P5. Oh no wait, he just overtook Sainz. P6 is Ricciardo, Massa and Rosberg are wheel to wheel for P7, Verstappen is P9, and it's Valtteri in P10. One lap later Lewis is up in P2 and the chase begins. Daniel and Sainz are fighting over P5, Nico is still P7. Lewis seems to struggle to close the gap to Seb, which is 10.2. It's all about the tyres though, so we will be patient.

Oh my god. Brundle just said "Vettel is doing a good job as he is definitely pegging Hamilton."

Sainz and Raikkonen pit. The Red Bulls and the Toro Rossos are losing a lot of brake dust, which is worrying. On lap 18 Seb finally pits. He's behind Nico in P3. But he's now much faster than Lewis. Interesting.

On lap 20, Nico is 7.4 behind Lewis, and Seb, who sets the fastest lap, is only 2.5 seconds behind him. Then it's Massa and Valtteri in the Williams. As I try to watch the rest of the top 10 amongst various uninteresting replays, Nico goes on radio to ask about the race with Vettel. His engineer says they both have one more stop to make. Seb is on newer tyres so he'll push and try to pass him but they both have one more stop to make. Nico asks him to say it to him in a simpler way, and asks “if he goes by me he's won?” And his engineer says affirm. Crofty says they could just pass him again. Brundle agrees, but also Nico does see how fast that Ferrari is. Crofty finds Nico pessimistic. Anyway the rest of the top 10 is Max in P6, Kvyat, Raikkonen just overtook Alonso, and Sainz just overtook Jenson for P10. Verstappen pits. Alonso is told they have to retire AND SEB OVERTAKES NICO FOR P2! Crofty and Brundle feel like it was too easy and they feel like Nico indeed acts defeated and didn't fight back. Vettel's engineer just called him a good boy twice. I'm gonna die istg. Lewis says his rears are dropping off. The gap is 3.8 but it's closing fast, are they gonna lose this race? That would be. I mean. It would be interesting, I have to say. Lewis says he's sliding around. Seb has gained 2.5 in the last lap. Damn. SEB TAKES THE LEAD! Lewis pits. He's out in P3. It's time to get to work. He's 16 seconds behind Nico and he probably will have to stop again because there's more than 30 laps to go. There's been contact between Kvyat and Hulkenberg as Kvyat was supposed to get ahead of Daniel. Nico pits. He's out, of course, behind Lewis, who is flying. They're splitting strategies, he's on hard tyres. A few laps later he overtakes Raikkonen for P3.

It's lap 30. Seb is in the lead. Lewis +19.3, Nico +33.1. Then it's Raikkonen, Massa, Verstappen, Sainz, Valtteri, Daniel, and Kvyat. Mercedes still think they can get a 1-2. We'll see. Perez and Grosjean make contact and Grosjean is sent spinning. Lewis is gaining 1 second a lap on Seb. According to Ted it's all gonna play out in the last 3 laps. Raikkonen pits again for P4. Lewis is still closing on Seb, the gap being 14 now. Seb is called in. Here he comes… not a great one. 3 seconds. Lewis goes through. Seb is ahead of Nico, but just about! And he pulls away! Wow. Lewis says his tyres are not feeling good and that he's getting slower. Seb is 9.8 behind, already 1.2 ahead of Nico. This is tense. Lewis pits. He's on hard tyres. Ted is a bit desperate : "that wasn't long enough Lewis, that stint was not long enough," he says softly. He's now on the slower tyres because he has to go to the end on them and it's because he didn't make the previous ones last long enough. He's now P3, 12 seconds down on Nico. And here he comes on the radio. "This is the wrong tyre, man." But Bono explains the decision to him, clearly and calmly, as he needs him to : "The only other option we had had been well used, we think this is the better tyre, it's just a case of looking after them in traffic. Nico's pace on the prime was good." Both Nico and Seb are on hard tyres as well, btw. And Lewis is still flying.

It's lap 40. Nico is losing time over Seb, he's 4.2 behind. Lewis is closing the gap to Nico, 9.8. Behind them, but irrelevant to that top 3 fight, it's Valtteri, Raikkonen, Verstappen, Massa, Sainz, Daniel just overtook Kvyat who pitted and is out in P10. For some reason we hear Paddy over the radio asking "would you stop Lewis again?" and Lewis tells him he could hear him. Then Bono sets a target for him and Lewis says : "Okay once again I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing, now Paddy's telling me I might be doing another stop." And Bono says that's a miscommunication, "just chatter". Brundle says "he does get angry, that boy, doesn't he?" When once again there was not one hint of anger in Lewis' voice. Think back to that narrative I was talking about earlier. "That boy" is understandably confused, as he says he doesn't know what he's supposed to do and he's receiving comms that aren't meant for him. I don't understand how Brundle interprets this as anger. Once again I wanna remind you that nowadays we hear drivers literally yell at their engineers during races and no one bats an eye except when they're POCs. Lewis didn't have to yell for that judgement to fall upon him. It drives me crazy.

And just as we were all wondering what Mercedes and Nico would do once Lewis caught up to him, he's called in. That solves it. We see a replay of Verstappen going wide on his way to the pits. Jenson has lost power. Nico out on mediums, which is what Lewis wanted. Bono tells Lewis they expect him to catch Seb with 5 laps to go (so Ted was right earlier) and this time Lewis does get angry. "Hey man! Don't talk to me through the corners! Nearly just went off!" he says. Crofty says he's asked that before already. Hulkenberg says he knows they don't like to hear it but he doesn't think he'll make it to the end. Jenson retires, that's both McLarens out. Nico sets the fastest lap. Ooof I'm stressed out now. Seb : "Blue flag, bluuue flaaaag, bluuue flag." He sounds so annoyed lol. "Lovely song," comments Crofty. Bono tells Lewis Seb is hitting traffic and sets a target to catch him. I'm not optimistic, that gap is there and the laps are running out. And he's gonna hit that traffic as well.

10 laps to go. Nico : "Talk to me about the race!" and he's told "Everybody has completed their stops." And that's it. Verstappen overtakes Sainz for P7. Lewis is not closing on Seb. Maldonado retires. 5 laps to go. Down the field, Massa and Valtteri are racing each other for P5. It's the final lap. Valtteri is ahead.

And it's the end of the race!

Seb wins! Lewis P2, Nico P3.

Another thing of interest to note is that both Toro Rossos ended up ahead of the Red Bulls.

In the cool down room Nico and Lewis don't talk. Lewis smiles wide to Seb though.

Oh… I'd forgotten how emotional Seb gets when he wins. It's so cute. He's straight up crying. He's so high on victory, the fanfics write themselves.

Eddie Jordan for interviews. "You look incredibly emotional, what's the matter with you?" he says to Seb. And then he adds the last time they saw him cry he went on to win championships. Seb says he's speechless basically. Lewis is listening with a smile.

Lewis gets cheers.

He congratulates Ferrari and Sebastian first of all. "They did an amazing job, I mean, jeez! They had some good pace today!" He says he gave everything he could, they all did as a team, and they knew they had made a step they didn't know how big and they were just too fast in the end. They'll just get back together and try to figure out where they lost time today. His balance wasn't great. He's sure they'll be fighting for the next race and he's excited about it. Jordan asks about that confusing radio moment. Lewis says he thinks he wasn't supposed to hear it. He says in general the team has done a fantastic job and he's really grateful for the car he has. The fans have been fantastic.

Jordan reminds Nico about the last press conference in which they discussed the Ferraris getting quicker to put on a show. Lewis sits down next to Seb.

Jordan says Nico probably didn't expect them to get there so fast. Nico says no but now he can say on behalf of their team : game on!

They're all short of breath. Jordan sits on the other side of Seb. Seb is still extremely emotional. I wonder what Lewis and he talked about in the meantime. Jordan is asking confusing and convoluted questions. Seb doesn't know what to say, he's just smiling. Lewis is still there but he moved a bit further away.

Seb says last year wasn't a good year for him, the car was great but he was struggling to extract the performance. This car is doing very well, and the team welcomed him so well. Seeing the gate of Maranello open was like a dream come true. Lewis drinks. Seb says they beat him fair and square. He thanks the team for the billionth time. Jordan says it was an inspired decision from Lewis to leave McLaren for Mercedes. He asks if he thinks he can win the championship in this car. He says he hopes so and that's why he signed up and that's their goal. His voice goes all trembling. They're just gonna enjoy this day for now. He says these guys are hard to beat and there's a long way ahead of them and then he smiles wide and says to be honest for now he doesn't care he just wanna celebrate and probably get pissed tonight lmao, language Seb! Jordan apologises on his behalf.

When asked where it went wrong, Niki says "Ferrari was quicker, first of all, Vettel was quicker, number one." They have to think about the strategy but Seb and Ferrari did a fantastic job and that's why they won. Ted says he told them before the race he thought they would be a threat but did he think so soon? "No, but it happened." He says he truly has to congratulate them, seeing where they came from.

Ted says to Toto that his whole team seems really annoyed that they're 2nd and 3rd. Toto acts like it's not true. Ted insists. Toto says you can't expect to win races forever. He says they're here to win but it's a well deserved victory for Seb. He says hopefully that stops the whole equalisation nonsense (aka Horner asking for the FIA to step in to stop them from winning). Ted is smart and he asks whether they would have won if they hadn't pitted during the Safety Car. Toto says it's easy to judge the strategy once the race is over, because he's also very smart. He says they've seen long good runs from Ferrari on Friday already. "We were warned." He rants a bit about several things but ultimately concludes with "today it wasn't perfect but it was not only due to the strategy." Ted asks him about him saying this is the wake up call we needed at some point in his answers and whether he thinks that Ferrari is a championship contender. He waves a hand towards Seb on the podium. "He's won the race, he's a championship contender." And he says it'll make them work even harder.

Lewis' post race interview. Rachel asks him if it's the most disappointing 2nd place he's ever had. Which is a shit question, Rachel. He pauses because I think he agrees with me. He says second place can never be that disappointing. He smiles but frowns a bit.

He says he did everything he could, and as a team there's areas they can improve on, but you can't win them all and he thinks it's nice for the sport to see another winner and it makes "some people" have to eat their words after the last race and he's looking forward to the battle now.

She asks if he thinks it was a mistake to pit under the Safety Car and whether he expected them to also come in. Of course he says he can't say if it was a mistake, he didn't expect them to stay out but they stuck to their plan. He says once he gets back to the garage he'll ask the engineers about it. They'll tell him if they could have done better or not. She says Seb is now only 3 points behind him and it looks like it's gonna be a fight all around for teams and drivers this year. He's surprised. He looks to his PR representative. "He's only 3 points behind me?"

The guy says yes. "Really? Wow." He nods.

"Yes. Well. We gotta get our feet down and our heads down and be pushing hard," he smiles. "Lessons learned from today you think for the team?" she asks. "... Uh, there will be."

#f1 #lewis hamilton #vro0m's race reviews #2015 #2015 malaysian gp

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cubedmango · 1 year

Note

Yeah I saw that too which is definitely an explanation that makes sense but also makes me so sad because a lot of the blame fell onto machida and akaso for that and at least from what i’ve seen and know about them it looks a lot more likely to be their/one of their agencies… I always want to pull my hair out too because seriously men getting married yeah chief that’s about as gay as it gets but a little peck on the lips is where the line gets drawn):£: and then I wonder how it works too cause even with that scene in the drama with kurosawa’s imagination in ep 9 when they were literally in bed like man that was a big fuckin step up in terms of any physicality between them which made me wonder like okay that was fine but again actually having a visible kiss wasn’t? I just don’t understand and when the director was asked about the whole no on-screen kiss thing he said it was to put more emphasis on their ‘emotional bond’ like what😭 idk nothing really adds up but some homophobic entity pulling the strings behind them unfortunately seems to have all arrows pointing at them it really is kinda :// tho cause I loooove the movie and the beach scene but also wish so much wasn’t taken away from it cause seriously imagining that part from the manga in live action form especially knowing how much of amazing actors they are is so crazy I would have killed a man for that💔

(putting second ask below for length!)

Ah naina there’s some unconfirmed tea which you can choose to post if you want to or not idm!! Some ppl have been digging into it and think that it’s tri-stone akaso’s company and it honestly makes sense from the promotion of the movie and how the release was treated on their side for example their official account was basically silent the whole time which is super weird because for his other roles they post about them regularly and retweet the promos but for a movie where their client like that’s your actor!! was literally the main character they were radio silent?? and in fact this was during the time hiru was airing and they posted about that almost every day but barely a word about cherry magic… and even weirder on his paid for fansite thing eawd at the end of every production they post a picture with akaso and his costars but there wasn’t one with him and machida… there’s so much more I’m gonna have to go back and look for it if you want but it’s just so ????? To me

the thing abt akasos agency is actually the exact thing i saw, i didnt have any way of checking it for myself so i couldnt confirm it but if its true that explains . basically everything ?? and its so dumb too bc if theyre so intent on being homophobic why did they even let him not only act in the drama but also come back for the movie ???? like were they expecting the levels of gay to go down or what 😐 and not doing promotion for ur own actors work just bc its a queer role is ??? extremely fucked up first of all but also theyre just losing out on money themselves so ??? who knows whats going on in their brains lol

either way to me it feels like neither the actors nor crew did this stuff on their own bc the way they handled the drama+movie doesnt match at all, they wrote and acted krdcs story v carefully and respectfully without that typical baiting and pandering, and also making fujisaki aroace when she wasnt in the manga and giving her so much depth too shows they did care abt the queer rep so i doubt theyd have any problems with the kissing and all themselves ? sensei even supervised the whole thing and donated movie proceeds to marriage for all so it rlly doesnt add up that any of the crew involved would be the one opposing stuff like this .. wouldnt be surprised if it was actually those agencies or even the network higher-ups doing all this, and the actors getting blamed for it is such bs too but alas its easier to pin it on them than admit theres a more systemic homophobia at play, and fans will usually fall for any random rumor and take is as truth so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#im not rlly that informed abt actor/agency/tv stuff esp in jp so i might be wrong idk #its just annoying to me the amount of control agencies seem to have esp when it comes their actors in queer roles #and to the point theyre forcing changes in the media itself by censoring things is....... god #why are agencies so fixated on marketing their clients as 'single and straight untouched by the gayness' theyre ACTORS thats their JOB???#sigh . now im remembering why i stay away from live action medias usually #my answer

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jerseygirllll · 2 years

Text

bittersweet cherries I e.m CHAPTER 4

previous chapter

couple: eddie munson x aurora henderson (oc)

word count: 930

summary: dustin and aurora go to eddies with a small plan on how to talk to him. aurora remembers some memories she shared with eddie

a/n: this was going to be a longer chapter but I think instead the next one might be really long :) sorry lol I hope yall enjoyed this one!

________

The drive to the trailer park wasn’t long, but it started to rain in that short time. The windshield wipers were working hard to keep your field of vision clear enough to drive without concern. Dustin was content in the passenger seat, letting you freak out over the weather.

The two of you had come up with a plan. Was it an amazing one? Not at all. But it was better to have something than show up on Eddie's doorstep with nothing. The plan was for Dustin to knock on Eddie’s door, get himself invited in, chat for a bit and ask if Eddie could get him something from his room. At that point, he would signal for you to come inside, and, hopefully, when Eddie returns from his room, you would be sitting in the living room alone.

“I’m scared, Dustin.”

“I know. It’s okay to be scared, but I don’t think anything bad will happen.” He tried to comfort you. “He misses you like crazy. The man chain smokes for hours after he sees a cherry coke can and wants to cry because he misses you. The man is still infatuated with you. Rory, you have nothing to worry about.”

You pulled the car in front of his trailer. Mud covered the car's wheels as the rain continued to beat down. “Okay, I’m going in!” He signed off and ran quickly to the door. The small metal covering barely protected him from the rain.

“Eddie! Eddie, it’s me! Dustin!” He pounded on the screen door. “Eddie!”

“Jesus, calm down, Henderson.” You heard him scream back at your brother. You saw him open the door a crack and let Dustin in. The car was hidden enough on the side of the trailer that he didn't see you. Probably assuming the kid rode here on his bike. From what you can tell, it looked like he just woke up from sleeping due to his clothing choices. But that was all you could see before the door shut.

________

Sitting in the car waiting for Dustin to pop his head into the bay window was nerve-wracking. All of a sudden, every emotion hit you like a bus. You tried hard to hold the tears back, not wanting to cry even more. Along with the emotions, memories came back to you as well.

All the time, you and Eddie had gotten caught in the rain while smoking in the woods during school. You guys ended up skipping the rest of the day a few times or would show up back to class, both completely soaked. Or the times you guys ‘borrowed’ tapes from Family Video, annoying Keith because he knew it would take weeks for you guys to return them. Later, you’d trade him some weed for tapes when he refused to let you borrow them. Eddie didn’t want to waste his stash, but he had promised you that you guys could watch Mommie Dearest.

Eddie convinced you one time to dance in the rain when you guys were younger. That was the moment you thought you fell in love with him. His frizzy curls flattened and his bangs stuck to his forehead as he swayed with you in the rain. Your curls turned straight in the rain, and you can still remember his hand gently running through your hair and leaning in to kiss you.

Trying to push back all the emotions you were feeling, you turned your focus back on the bay window. The back of Dustin's head was visible from sitting on the couch underneath the window, but you needed to see his face to go in. A few minutes passed, and then you saw him. Dustin's head was turned to face you and gave you a silly look.

You exited the car and ran up the door, trying to beat out the rain. Dustin opened the door, gave you a quick thumbs up, and headed to the car. Walking over the couch, you observed the rest of the trailer. Not much had changed. Wayne had gotten a few more mugs and maybe a hat or two in his collection. Pictures of Eddie as a little kid were still taped to the fridge, much to his dislike. A small vase full of flowers sat on the table. They looked a few days old and were just starting to wilt.

Out of the whole house, you could see the flowers were the only thing out of place. Wayne and Eddie tried to limit the number of things you needed to take care of in the trailer since they weren’t there or asleep most of the time.

“Henderson, did you want both the tapes? I have Sabbaths Sabotage and also Vol. 4. Personally, I reco-” He froze.

He wasn't even fully in the living room. Standing before the threshold between the kitchen and the room. He looked pale and tired. His hair was messy from sleep, and his eyes were heavy with bags under them. His shirt was faded, but you could roughly make out the words ‘heaven’ and ‘hell’ on the front of it. His boxers peeked out from his sweatpants. Even though he was standing far away from you, the smell of cigarettes and the cologne he used were strong. The smell brought you back and made you feel at ease.

“Hi.” Your voice was quiet and small. Exactly how you felt. “Uh, Dustin, let me in. I hope that was okay?”

#eddie stranger things #eddie munson st4 #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson series #stranger things 4 #eddie munson imagine #dustin henderson #dustin henderson stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic

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missing-wires · 1 year

Text

But I thought you couldn’t save Discord convos?

Technically, you can’t and it’s against TOS, but I used a third party app that extracted everything to html.

Ah, I see, how does it look?

Kinda shitty, tbh. Some of the images don’t load, but text wise everything is there. But maybe you could find a really good html viewer, that’ll make it look really good!

Haha, maybe, I’ll have to see what I can find. So what’s with these stalking claims? How did you find out where she lived?

Well, she initially she told me her name “Elizabeth,” haha so that much was never a secret. Later on, she sent me an unedited Venmo screen shot of a guy we referred to as Staff Sgt Scotty, who was this Navy aircraft mechanic, who enjoyed luring her off live streams.

White knight type of thing?

Exactly, he would pay her like $50 per hour to talk on the phone with her. One time, he wanted to talk to her for free, because he was being deployed again and asked for my advice.

Haha, what did you say?

Haha, I don’t even recall, to be honest. Maybe “Fuck that shit, charge him double” but I’m sure it’s in the convo. Anyway, she had 4 friends on Venmo, all of whom were publicly visible. I literally just typed in her ex’s name on FB, and searched “Elizabeth” on his friend list and her name popped up. I was concerned about how easy it was to find, so I told her.

Ahhh I see! And what about the pizza and the address?

Well for starters the pictures she sent me via text message were geo-tagged, so it was p obvious where she worked and lived. But even then, I wasn’t like 100% sure or anything until she confirmed it when she posted the pizza on FB.

Yeah, I mean, despite all the evidence, it was possible she could have like slept somewhere else and just been hanging out at certain place?

Haha, I mean of course. I never really cared to know her daily schedule. But like the geotagged shit was blindly obvious, why pretend like I don’t notice that shit?

Haha, bet, say how much did you pay this little bitch?

Haha, good question. First and foremost, everything I paid towards her streaming was completely refunded. Then I paid her $60 for 1 month of Snapchat access, but she cut it short after getting mad at me. My bank covered me the amount lol. I don’t know if it was a chargeback, but I told them what had happened and they covered it.

Aw that’s cool.

Yeah, so the first time i actually gave her any money at all was in early November. I sent her $100 to help with an unexpected tire/tow expense. I felt bad because she had literally just got a new car, and tried calling some “friends” but nobody would come out to help her. Left stranded, she turned to her mom, who’s always been there for her. She just sort of broke down and dropped some childhood trauma shit on her and I wanted to give her a little something to show her that I still cared, even though I had known what was going on, at that point

You knew at that point?

Haha, of course, I really just wanted her to admit it. I tried dropping hints about it, but had a hard time disguising my frustration.

Ah, that makes sense. So what, you only gave her $100?

No, I also sent her a $50 Amazon Gift Card as an early X-mas present, as well as a surprise donation of $6.66 to celebrate her reaching 666 IG followers

Aww, that’s a nice touch! Did she thank you for it?

Haha of course not, but by that point, I was never doing it for the thanks, haha. Or honestly, I don’t think I ever was doing it for the thanks. I just decided that I liked her and that was that.

Haha, I see, so in total you gave her $156.66 over the course of a year or so?

That is correct.

That’s not a big return for a year plus

Haha, no, it’s not

#Spotify

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burnedbyshoto · 3 years

Text

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!

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“I’ll be okay.”

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

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

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

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

What had he done?

What in the fucking world had he done?!

BOOM!

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

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

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

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

05:30.

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

Inhale.

Hold.

Exhale.

Better?

No, not yet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“W-Wha—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘Cause I’m a stalker, duh.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Kirishima-kun, are you okay?”

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

“Kirishima-kun?”

“Yo, he’s not looking too hot?”

“Kirishima?!”

“Can you hear us?!”

Silence.

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

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

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

He was okay.

“Kirishima?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

But he was obviously not the first choice still.

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

“Toshinori—”

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

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

He had barely passed the admittance test.

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

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

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

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

“I can do it.”

A smile.

“Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were tiny.

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

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

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

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

“Six months tops.”

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

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

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

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

“...no,” Kirishima answers truthfully.

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

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

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

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

Fuck, that one hurt.

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

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

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

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

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

“Six months,” Kirishima agreed.

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

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

“You got it.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, yes, let’s continue.”

So, the contract was discussed to full detail.

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

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

Or so the contract said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, so much for a good case.

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

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

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

You always managed to sneak away from him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ya, okay, bye!”

“By—”

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

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

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

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

He wanted to be just a fan.

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

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

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

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

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

“You know I can’t do that it’s not—”

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

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

And then there’s only silence.

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

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

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

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

He knew that.

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

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

You were a good person.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...how interesting.

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

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

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

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

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

“Very much.”

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

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

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

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

So much for change.

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

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

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

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

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

It had been a hard morning.

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

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

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

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

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

But today, Kirishima was exhausted.

Today, Kirishima wanted to sleep.

Today… Kirishima broke.

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

You ignore him.

“We’re leaving, now.”

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

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

He grabs your wrist and begins pulling you away.

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

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

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

Oh, right.

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

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

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

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

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

“Compromises aren’t—”

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

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

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

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

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

“Wh-”

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

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

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

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

And for a moment, it’s quiet.

Until a single name is screamed.

“SERGEANT!”

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

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

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

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

The van turns on.

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

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

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

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

T082-23

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

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

Well, shit.

So much for the month of no attacks.

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

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

But they also gave him an essential piece of information.

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

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

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

For now, he was waiting for you.

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

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

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

“Should we go?”

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

“I actually wanted to talk before we left.”

Oh?

“Of what, if I may ask?”

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

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

“Sure.”

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

The contract was then discussed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course, Kirishima.”

“Oh, and y/n?”

“Yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kirishima stood in the softly lit hallways of a sauna.

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

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

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

Well, everyone but Kirishima, that was.

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

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

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

A stressful month had passed into a friendlier one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I-If that’s okay?”

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

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

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

“No, I’m okay,” you politely decline.

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

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

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

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

“So, what questions do you have?”

“Hm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A pause.

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

A nod.

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

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

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

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

What had happened?

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

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

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

“Was that um, Major—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wasn’t made of glass.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

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

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

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

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

“PERVERT!”

“What?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, his dreams were never like this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kirishima stepped back out to the hot spring.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jenny, are you okay?” you called.

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

“We weren’t fucking you prude!”

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

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

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

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

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

What was he going to do now?

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

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

Bad, Kirishima, bad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That sounds amazing, Kimiko!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whoever it was, pfft.

Kirishima was willing to bet on who it was already.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something.

Anything.

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

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

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

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

He was going to.

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

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

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

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

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

“Ready to move out?”

“We’re all clear.”

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

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

“Damn right I will.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Such a brat.”

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

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

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

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

T082-23.

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

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

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

You really came to life right now.

You were beautiful.

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

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

He was here.

Every warning bell sounded in Kirishima’s head.

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

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

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

Wait.

“What?! Family member?!”

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

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

There was no way you wouldn’t.

Was he wrong?

Who was it?

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

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

Oh fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

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

“...she’s drunk?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was a reason why you were considered a legend.

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

You smile.

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

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

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

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

How were they related?

What connected them?

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

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

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

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

Kirishima panted as he looked before him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was he ready?

Actually ready?

Save her, his past whispered.

Save her, his nightmares screamed.

Save her, his heart yelled.

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

BANG!

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tonight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you resisted and might have been harsher than needed.

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

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

But it was growing late.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frown.

“Where will you be sleeping then?”

“My couch is just fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, I’ll be leaving—”

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

“Oh, sure!”

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

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

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

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

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

He was relaxed.

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

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

“Really?”

“One hundred percent.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” you grin against his mouth.

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

“No?” he repeats.

“No,” you confirm.

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

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

Menacing, promising, sending chilling shivers down your spine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What does the princess want?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Holy fuck, he could quickly kill you with that.

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

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

And thankfully, Kirishima allows it.

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

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

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

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

It feels like fire.

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

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

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

Slap!

“Hey!”

Slap!

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

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

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

More, you plead.

And he delivers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who saved you?”

“E-Ei did,” you garble.

“Who’s fucking you?”

“E-Ei is!”

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

“Me! Fuck, me!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he didn’t.

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

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

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

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

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

“I think we do.”

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

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