#then he shows him like a family album or something and ghosts just like ‘why arent you in any of these i only see girls’
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i need ghoap frantically making out against a door finally taking the leap on their feelings. need ghost grinding against soap, expecting to find him just as hard as him, only to feel nothing
and in all his wisdom and experience, he concludes soap was tortured and never told him
he’s trying to think of a delicate way to say he understands, that he’s been through it and it doesn’t change anything about how he feels (and who the fuck touched him so he can hunt them down and rend them limb from limb)
meanwhile trans!soap’s just trying to find the best angle to grind his cunt on ghost’s thigh
just it never even entering ghost’s head bc he’s never known a trans person but he has met plenty of people who’ve been tortured - himself included - so of course that’s his logical leap
soap takes off his shirt and he sees his top surgery scars and ghost asks if he wants him to kill the one who did it and soap just hums like, “actually, man did pretty good, they healed real well,” and ghost’s just teary-eyes with awe at how well he’s coping, “looking on the bright side, that’s my johnny.”
imagine he thinks johnny was fully castrated but sees he’s determined to still have a sex life with him so he buys packers and straps to help him bc hell yeah healing and soap’s just like, “holy shit i’ve never had such a thoughtful partner before, such a sweet man, lt.”
#he a little confused but he got the spirit#its so good bc it can be super angsty of ghost really dreading whats been done to his sergeant and trying to make it right#or just go full crack treated seriously and have fun with it#i love just completely oblivious ghost#in any military context hes the smartest guy in the room#he always knows the play and has more experience than anyone#but stick him in the normal world? man is Lost#ghost just thinks hes had some kind of reconstruction surgery after being tortured and accepts thats what johnny looks like#bc hes never seen a pussy before#it takes years for soap to actually come out to him bc he just never thought to#hes seen him naked theyve literally slept together what else is there for him to say#then he shows him like a family album or something and ghosts just like ‘why arent you in any of these i only see girls’#and he just goes ‘hang on a second’#soap gets one of his sporadic periods one night and panics a little thinking it would weird ghost out or remind him that hes not cis#but ghost just thinks its a normal part of such a thorough reconstruction that hed bleed sometimes#and doesnt question it when soap grabs a pad out of his drawer bc ‘thats such a good way of handling the discharge my johnnys so smart’#just really supportive ghost for the wrong reasons#coming out of my cage and ive been doing just fine.txt#we’re a team. ghost team#soapghost#ghostsoap#simon ghost riley#ghost cod#john soap mactavish#soap cod
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Sadly, I want you
Wally Clark x Male Reader
Request: Wally Clark x male reader, reader can see ghosts and makes it his mission to help wally move on but also catching feelings for this ghost in the process. maybe angst at the end
You just took a shower and you are in your bedroom. You are wearing just a bathrobe and you start to look for your pajamas. You take off your bathrobe then suddenly you heard someone talk to you.
“Woah! Woah!” Wally said.
You covered yourself with the robe.
“Who the hell are you!?” You yelled.
“This is my room! What are you doing here?” Wally said.
“This is my room and my house, which my family bought!” You yelled.
Wally turned around now he is facing the window.
“You can put on your clothes now. I won't look” Wally said.
You started to get dressed fast.
“You can turn around now. I'm serious but why are you in my room? You know what I'm calling the cops” You said.
Wally turned around.
“This is my house. I have been living here since 1965” Wally said.
“Wait, say that again,” You said.
You throw the pillow at him and it went through him.
“I was born in 1965 so this is my house,” Wally said.
“Not anymore. What year do you think it is?” You said.
“It’s 1983,” Wally said.
“No, it's 2024,” You said.
“That year doesn't exist, buddy,” Wally said.
“My name is Y/n. The year is real and what's your name” You said.
“My name is Wally Clark and the year is 1983,” Wally said.
You try to explain to him it's not 1983 anymore. He had to process that he is dead and hadn't moved on. You turn on your laptop
“What is that?” Wally asked.
“It's called a computer. I can find anything I want on the internet and I mean anything” You said.
“What is the internet?” Wally asked.
“I’m going to put your name and it will show me the information about you. And I can look up the old bands you like” You said.
“Wow, the internet. Oh, and my favorite band is The Police” Wally said.
“I never heard of them. Okay, I'm going to type your name” You said.
You did find information on Wally, then you start to read the paragraph...
“Quarterback Wally Clark died from a football accident. His neck snapped during the game” You said.
You look at him and he is speechless.
“I remember now, what happened to me,” Wally said.
“You haven't moved on because you are attached to something,” You said.
“What happened to my parents?” Wally asked.
You start to search for his parents.
“They passed away years ago. The house had been empty for years before my parents bought the house” You said.
“But how you can see me?” Wally asked.
“It’s a gift. I have been seeing ghosts since I was ten years old” You said.
“Oh... Can you play the police?” Wally asked.
You figured it would cheer him up. You play the music and he starts to talk about, which song is his favorite.
----
You and Wally start to ask questions about each other. He thinks it's dumb and cool to have a cell phone, and learned about old music and shows.
You head to the basement and there are some boxes, that don't belong to you or your parents.
“Hey that box has my name on it,” Wally said.
“I’m going to open it,” You said.
You start to open the box. Inside there are old photo albums then you start to look through the pictures. He starts to tell you stories about his family and when he was a kid.
✬ ✯ ✫ ✯
You are on your phone and Wally appears in your room.
“What are you doing, Y/n?” Wally asked.
You got startled, you weren't expecting him.
“You scared me,” You said.
“I didn't mean to scare you. What are you doing on the phone?” Wally said.
“I was doing research on how to help you crossover,” You said.
“Anything helpful?” Wally asked.
“First we have to find what you are attached to besides my room,” You said.
“You mean my room,” Wally said.
“No, it's my room. My family bought the house, we have the papers” You said.
You and Wally did go back and forth about whose room it is.
But later, you start to check every room in the house. You couldn't figure out why Wally is still attached to the house. It took a while to explain to him why TVs are flat and not huge in the back.
——-
The last few days, you and Wally got used to being around each other. Because of him, you know some old rock bands. You talk about your day and he talks about what he does when you aren't around.
“Won’t your boyfriend be jealous you are spending time with me, not him?” Wally asked.
“I don't have a boyfriend,” You said.
“Why not? You are cute and smart” Wally said.
You couldn't help to smile at what he said about you.
“Thanks. It's hard to find someone who would actually like me and stuff” You said.
“If I was alive and the same age as you, I would ask you out. But I think you should try to put yourself out there and get your holes filled… I-I didn't mean like that… I-” Wally starts to stutter.
“I get it, Wally” You giggled.
You lie on your bed and Wally lies next to you. He started to give you advice on dating then you changed the subject to something else. Now, you and Wally are talking personal funny stories about each other. You and Wally are enjoying the conversation then you two start to talk about pet peeves, half of it you and Wally agreed on the same ones.
It was dinner time and your parents were waking late. But Wally is keeping you company, he talks about his favorite food. He starts to ask questions about your favorite food and least favorite food.
✬ ✯ ✫ ✯
You had a bad day and Wally can see that you are grumpy. You sit in your gaming chair and sigh heavily.
“What happened, Y/n?” Wally asked.
“I had a bad day from morning until I came home,” You said.
“Oh,” Wally said.
“My boss is a huge asshole and a customer was a bigger asshole. Ugh! I work with stupid people and I need a new job. And on my way home, I forgot my umbrella and it started to rain and I got soaked” You said.
Wally starts to think if he wasn't a ghost he would hug you.
“How about, you change into your pajamas and we will watch your favorite movie,” Wally said.
“I like that idea, Wally. Thanks” You smiled.
“Anything for you” Wally smiled.
You went to take a hot shower and then put on your pajamas. You put on your favorite movie then Wally sits next to you on the couch.
Later you want to bed and you stare at the ceiling. Wally would usually stay out of your bedroom while you sleep.
“I shouldn't have feelings for a ghost” You mumbled.
When you started to open up to Wally, then you developed feelings for him. You tried to deny it but that didn't work and you sighed. You finally opened up to someone but he isn't alive or the same age as you.
Wally is in the living room watching TV. Wally has developed feelings for you and he wishes that he could touch you. But he thinks that you don't have feelings for him.
——-
Wally went with you to the attic. There are more boxes of his stuff than you found in his football jacket. Inside his pocket, you found a family picture of him and his parents.
“I think this is why you haven't been able to crossover,” You said.
“I remember when I first got that jacket. I ran home and told my parents and my mom called everyone and made my favorite meal. Then my dad hugged me” Wally smiled.
“That must have been nice” You smiled.
You and Wally leave the attic. You head to the backyard and you grab the Charcoal lighter fluid.
“If I burn your jacket then we won't see each other again,” You said sadly.
“I know. I'm going to miss you, Y/n” Wally said.
“I’m going to miss you too, Wally,” You said.
You put his jacket and the picture in the firepit. You dosed his jacket with the lighter fluid and you used matches to light it. You and Wally watched the fire start and the jacket started to burn.
“Wally, your hand,” You said.
His right hand starts to disappear.
“Y/n, I'm going to say this fast because I don't have enough time. I really like you and I know we are not from the same lifetime. But I really enjoyed my time with you and I do hope that you will find your happiness. Y/n, I'm going to miss you a lot but thank you” Wally said.
“I feel the same way, Wally. You made me happy and I'm glad you will see your parents. I'm going to miss you a lot” You said.
“Bye, Y/n,” Wally said.
You watch him disappear and you sit on the chair. Then you watched his jacket turn black and you started to cry. You wipe the tears away and sit outside for a little while.
#school spirits imagine#Wally Clark imagine#wally clark x male reader#wally clark x reader#x male reader#male!reader#male reader#male reader insert#male reader imagine
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if theres anything i love more its chaotic sweetheart oml its so fckin funny
i just thought of like during TF 141 missions, meetings or just out of nowhere sweetheart will sometimes say "omg this reminds me of when i got ban from the aquarium in [where ever tf] cause i jumped into the shark tank to pet the sharks" or she hears that they're going to a place like italy or europe for a mission and shes like "im actually ban from like 3 of their museums" or whatever
and the team think shes fucking with them but they find out its true because she has videos and pictures of her doing these things and they're all like : 😦😟😀 huh??
like imagine they're at a zoo or aquarium and shes like "bet me $20 to jump in?" and they're all actively trying to hold her back so she doesn't get banned again 😭 they have her on those backpack leashes when they go out 💀
HAHAHHAHA I CANT
THIS IS SO HER 100000%%%%
She said something unhinged before, but they didn't believe her
(TF 141 watching the american news. Someone was arrested for trying to steal a fish from the same aquarium Sweetheart stole from)
Sweetheart: HA! Oh my god, my brother and I did that once there.
Gaz: Go to the aquarium?
Sweetheart, reminiscing: Yeah, and we went fishing there to catch some sea creatures. We caught this japanese spider crab and started running cause the police and workers started chasing us. But we got away! AND GOD THAT CRAB WAS SO GOOD-- I don't know why people don't eat those more!
🧍♀️
AHAHA ...girl please
So they all kinda chuckled at that, but Soap kinda prods at it more because he thought she was making up a story 💀
Soap, smirking: So... you stole a state protected Japanese Spider Crab from an aquarium. Got away with it. And ate it with your kin.
Sweetheart, smiling like a dummy: Yuh huh.
Soap, questioning her thought process: And only your brother?
Sweetheart, nodding: Yup! My mom said that since we had a brother-sister hangout day, he should get food and he did! OH OH WANNA SEE PICTURES?? I HAVE A FULL ALBUM
Soap: Whuh- WOAH YOU WERE TELLING THE TRUTH?!
Alex: WAIT WHAT
Sweetheart: of course I was! You thought I was lying?
Soap and Gaz: YES
Sweetheart: YOU GUYS HAVE MET MY FAMILY THIS SHOULDN'T BE SURPRISING
She was showing them pictures of when she was younger, like 13 years old, with her third older brother. And she was legit fishing in the aquarium with him 💀 she even has a video of her ACTUALLY CATCHING THE CRAB
And then some pictures of her brother boiling it in the back of his pickup truck and eating ALL OF IT (JAPANESE SPIDER CRABS ARE HUGE MIND YOU)
They were like 😨😨🤯 GIRL WHAT THE FUCK KINDA LIFE YOU LIVIN
So they believe the stories she says UNLESS she has pictures (and with every story she does 💀💀)
And omg her being banned in some places-- IN SOME STATES AND OUT OF COUNTRY BECAUSE OF THE UNLUCKY LUCK
Sweetheart, raising her hand: Wait where are we going?
Graves, rolling his eyes: To America.
Sweetheart: Uh huh yeah I got that but which state?
Graves: Ohio?
Sweetheart: Ahhhh okay. I can't go.
Graves, leaning on the table: And why is that, Sergeant Sweetheart?
Sweetheart: Well, Philip Graveyard, I'm banned.
Alex: What, in the facility?
Sweetheart, scratching her cheek: No the whole state.
Soap: WHAT
Ghost: HUH
Sweetheart, shrugging like she's talking about the weather: Yeah. Ohio, Florida, Wyoming, couple of other states, and some out of country.
Sweetheart, whispering: ...Alot out of country, honestly.
They're like what 🧍♀️
Soap, in disbelief: wh-why?
Sweetheart: Turns out, going on a plane with matches and a baton can cause a heck of a panic. And...
Sweetheart: ...It's illegal.
Ghost: OF FOCKIN COURSE ITS ILLEGAL
Sweetheart: WELL I KNOW THAT NOW. I WAS SEVENTEEN WHEN THAT HAPPENED
Soap: YOU WERE SEVENTEEN--
She showed pictures obviously.
Price, tired and confused: Why do you take pictures of everything you do.
Sweetheart: For the memories!
Graves, wiping his face: Oh my god...
Sweetheart: And evidence so I don't go to prison.
Soap, under his breath: Good lord
Price has to study on Sweetheart's past, so one: she won't get arrested anytime she goes out and two: so he can learn about this "unlucky luck" that's been happening for centuries in her family
(He still doesn't understand it)
And when they go on vacation together as a team it's a nightmare 💀
Sweetheart: Can't go on that.
Soap, smirking: Why? Awww, Sweetheart are ya scared?
Sweetheart: Nah, I'll get arrested. Restraining orders go craaaaazy stupid in London.
Soap and Gaz:
Gaz: How-- How do you get a restraining order on a ferris wheel...?
And then when they went to a zoo in Scotland (because she's not banned or has any restraining orders there) and this is so iconic
Sweetheart, looking in the cage and smiling: Bet me a twenty to jump in?
Gaz, snaps his neck and has a heart attack: Sweetheart, no--
Horangi, putting his hand on her shoulder: Please don't.
Sweetheart, scoffing playfully: I'm not! Oh my gosh. You actually have to bet me the twenty to actually do the--
König, Pulls out $100 because he wants to see this actually happen:
Sweetheart, looking at his hand:
Everyone looking at König's hand:
Sweetheart, looking up at König with a straight face:
Everyone looking at Sweetheart:
Ten seconds later:
Soap, struggling with Sweetheart: SWEETHEART NO STOP
Horangi, pulling Sweetheart's foot: DONT ACTUALLY JUMP IN THERE
Ghost, trying to push Sweetheart off the cage: GOD DAMMIT KÖNIG WHY DID YOU ACTUALLY GIVE HER MONEY TO DO IT
König: I THOUGHT SHE WAS BLUFFING
Price, pulling on Sweetheart's leg: YOU KNOW SWEETHEART DOESN'T BLUFF WHEN IT COMES TO THIS KIND OF THING
Sweetheart: GIVE ME THAT HUNNID BABAY
That was the last STRAW for price. So he ordered a human leash backpack for Sweetheart 💀
Sweetheart, holding the contraption: What is this?
Price, frowning with his arms crossed: It's a leash.
Sweetheart: Okay?
Price: For you.
Sweetheart:
Sweetheart, dumbfounded: W h a t
Price: When we go out for vacation, you're wearing this.
Sweetheart, brain loading the information she just heard:
Sweetheart: Are you... SERIOUS???
Sweetheart: I'm not some child, Price!
Price: Yet you act like one everytime we go out as a team!
Sweetheart: I'm just having fun!
Price: I DONT SEE HOW HANGING UPSIDE DOWN ON A FUCKIN' LEDGE ON THE EIFFEL FUCKIN' TOWER IS FUN
Sweetheart: THAT WAS ONE TIME
Price: AND ONE TIME TOO MANY
Price: You're wearing it.
And she wears it. Luckily it was in pink and she decorated it with stickers and charms.
Sweetheart, huffing and sitting on the ground with her arms crossed: This sucks cactus balls, man.
Ghost, walking with the leash: Come on, Sweetheart.
Sweetheart, whining: Weeeeeehhhhh...
Sweetheart, getting dragged: OW YOU'RE RUINING MY NEW JEANS AND MY FUCKING ASS-- OKAY OKAY I'LL GET UP
Ghost: Mhm.
#SHES A FUCKING IDIOT#love her tho thats my girl#cod headcanons#mw2 headcanons#call of duty headcanons#cod modern warfare#black fem reader#cod oc#black!reader#black reader#x reader#cod x y/n#mw2 ghost#cod price#soap cod#gaz mw2#gaz cod#kyle gaz garrick x reader#141 sweetheart#141 sweetheart headcanons#hunter's ask lounge ☕️
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DARLINGGGGG GUESS WHOS BACK FROM THE PYSCHE WARD!!
im currently brainrotting over agito as you can see..can you write how you think he would meet reader and how their relationship would develop into romance with him? like actually i sat at work for like 15 minutes trying to think how but i actually cannot cook anything up.
(Also I'm seeing the ghost stuff and I'm interested...gonna have to do research for dis one☝️)
sorry if i keep sending you silly asks😞
—🪡 anon
JOIN US WE HAVE SEXY POPES WHO DOUBLE AS FRONTMEN AND FREAKY GHOULS. Listen to them, I highly recommend listening to the meliora and prequelle album before delving any deeper. Watch some YouTube videos abt the lore. PLUS THEY HAVE LITTLE EPISODES <3
Time for some more Cakemaster 9000
Phew, this took a while
Kanoh Agito: How does he fall for you?
• Like what I mentioned in one of the headcanons, you work for Katahara. While Agito doesn't directly work for him apart from beint his representative fighter, he's technically his family AND The Fang.
• However, you two hardly see eachother when on the job. BUT-
• You two visit the same coffee shop. He loves his morning Latte, and you love (insert your favorite Cafe drink here)
• When you first started working, you were surprised to see the Kanoh Agito at a small coffee shop.
• He usually greets and addresses you formally, not interested in any small talk.
• "Sheesh, what a stick in the mud" It's not that he was trying to be rude, but he did come off a little condescending when he greeted you. (He has tone issues)
• One day you woke up late and didn't have time to stop and get your usual.
• He notices your absence. "They can't be sick, they showed no signs of it two days ago"
• Long story short, he picks up your order and goes looking for you. Once he finds you, he stiffly hands it to you. "You were late I presume. I picked this up for you"
• Everyone in the room was shocked. The cold hearted Fang buying someone a drink? You smiled warmly and looked into his eyes "Thank you, this was very kind of you"
• His breathing hitched, and he felt speechless. Was he....flustered? "Don't let it happen again, you work for the Chairman afterall"
• You obviously didn't let it happen again....buuuttt it was super sweet how he seemed to care about you enough to get you something.
• To return the favor, you arrived earlier and got him his Latte. Listen, he was speechless before, now he was in shock. He didn't show it though. In his lifetime no one had ever bought him anything or returned a favor. There was a first time for everything.
• You saw through his attempt to hide the baffled expression on his face. It was kinda- cute.
• "Why have you done this?" "Why not? I'm just repaying you" "I-" "Shush, just take the drink, it's burning my hand"
• He has to get there before you now to ensure that he sees you. He's a bit friendlier with the greetings, too. Don't expect a smile though, just a softer glance in your direction.
• When he was around you, he didn't feel like he needed to be The Fang of Metsudo. You didn't hold him to any higher standard when you chatted, you didn't bother holding back a few curses. He felt as if his soul was on Earth instead of hanging in the balance.
• On one of your off days, the two of you get coffee and sit down for once. Finally having a slower paced discussion. It lasted a few hours, you did most of the talking while he had a response to almost anything. There was a lot he didn't know about pop culture.
• Coffee dates became your thing, even though it wasn't technically a date. More like two friends hanging out. Discussions got into deeper topics like pasts and whatnot.
• Agito decided that he could trust you, so he opened up about the Human Gu Ritual. He didn't know what trauma was, so you explained to him that his feelings and memories about that time in his life would be very traumatic.
• "I'm glad you could tell me that, but are you okay? If I had something like that on my chest I'd cry" "I'm quite alright, I'm not fazed in the slightest but I had no idea the caliber of the topic. I hope I didn't ruin the conversation"
• You tapped your cheek and sighed. "Have you ever been hugged before?" Agito thought for a second. The embracing gesture? The only physical contact he's hand was a pat on the shoulder or when he's fighting.
• "No, I don't think I have" "Well today's your lucky day, bring it in"
• He froze as you wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him into you. His heartbeat raced as he thought of what to do. "Just tell me if you don't like it" you squeezed him gently. He awkwardly put his hand behind your back and rested it there.
• You let go after a few seconds, but he didn't want you to. "How was it?" You smiled.
• "I'm not sure" He smoothed out his suit, trying to relax himself after what just happened.
• A few days passed and you haven't seen him anywhere. He wasn't at work or at the coffee shop. You start to worry. Did you drive him away? Was the hug too much? Oh god was he dead?
• All the while Agito was keeping an eye on you from afar. Not letting you see him, but he could see you. He felt very fragile after that day, he almost felt ashamed. He wasn't good at managing his emotions. And what happened moved him in a way that frightened him.
• He summons the courage to talk to Katahara Metsudo about how he felt. He was the only parental figure he had in a sense.
• "You are a grown man. Is this really a difficult concept to grasp?" Katahara looked out the window of his office. "I'm inexperienced, these feelings are foreign to me"
• 'He's not referring to himself as we and us anymore, this must be serious' Katahara turned around. "To put it simply" he laughed "Tell (Reader) everything you told me"
• "I have a strong regard for you" Agito came clean. You know how I said there was a first time for everything? Well he had a hint of red on his cheeks. This beast of a man, blushing? Utterly adorable
• "So you're saying you love me?" That's the word. Love. He nodded. "Well. Say it then. There's nothing holding you back"
• He pauses for a moment, he's not exactly fond of eye contact. But this was for (Reader)
• "I love you"
• You wrap your arms around his waist again. "That's all I needed to hear"
• His lips curled into a smile as he looked down at you. You parted from the hug and tilted your head to the side. "Wanna go out to a restaurant sometime?"
• "Are you asking me out on...what is it that they call it...a date?" "Yes" you stated bluntly. Beating around the bush or teasing wouldn't get far in this situation.
• "We can talk about plans later, I have important matters to attend to" he look your hand and grazed his lips on you knuckles. Planting a small kiss on it.
• "Now where did you learn that?" "It's a romantic gesture they do on television" you bite your lip from calling him a dork.
• "I'll meet with you later about this date. Until we see eachother again" He leaves, and you're alone again.
• Man, you're already falling for him. It's not like you'd hate dating him. But you didn't want to be head over heels just yet. You looked at your knuckles and sighed "Ah what the hell, being love isn't that bad"
#kengan ashura#kengan omega#kenganverse#kengan ashura x reader#kanoh agito#agito kanoh#kanoh agito x reader
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I saw that your request are open and wanted to ask for some headcanons of slashers like Bubba sawyer, Thomas hewitt and Michael myers if their Lover or S/O was a Dancer (Ballerina,etc). It's ok if you don't wanna write about that!
hello, anon! i've actually wanted to write something with a ballerina/dancer s/o, so allow me to indulge ya! thank you for being so polite. although i don't write for michael myers, i'd love to include bubba and thomas along with a couple other slashers i think would adore a dancing s/o. i've even included my slasher OC if that's alright, because like i said, he'd love it! ☆
headcanons - Bubba Sawyer, Thomas Hewitt, Leslie Vernon, Norman Bates, & Tad Kennedy w/ a Dancer S/O
Bubba Sawyer
Self expression is everything to him, so when he sees you expressing something deep inside through a fluid movement or bold spin on your toes...he's intrigued. He's making his brothers watch, too, if you're not shy to that. He's stopping everything to set the stage for you.
He wouldn't be able to stop watching you do your thing, and after learning you're a dancer, everything you do feels so much more elegant in his eyes.
With a little encouragement, he'd definitely learn to dance with you too. He's somewhat familiar with the standard line dancing, so the amalgamation of that and your own style would become a special bonding activity. Something so utterly him and utterly you.
Thomas Hewitt
In a "career" that's messy and a world that's often loud and hectic, seeing you take a second to do something so lighthearted would catch Tommy off guard. He'll merely watch, jaw half open and hands unable to keep steadfast to working as you show off that you are capable of such a delicate, almost joyful routine or movement.
Whether you're interested in the music, the dance, or the costume design of your favorite type of dance, he'd always be listening to you talk about it and bringing things to your attention that he thinks is relevant.
If passerbys who come through the Hewitts are also dancers, he'd find a way to get you to meet (at arm's distance, of course). If it means he can see you light up before the family does what they do to people who fall into an unfortunate strike of luck of crossing the farm, it's like a break in the clouds to see a brief moment of you being happy.
Leslie Vernon
You're in good company with a man of many talents himself! Even if it's just a hobby, he would be very curious to see how quick you can hop to the balls of your feet, or break out a dance move that's more than something you learn to idly do at a party.
A bit of a gymnast himself, Leslie would probably see it in other ways. If you have more toned leg muscles, a passing knowledge of certain ballets/stage performances, etc., he'd tune in and start figuring out why that's so.
You might find after a little while that his movements when doing his own work would start to become a little more fluid itself. The interest and excitement rubs off easily on him, and if you're a graceful swan in your craft...he can't help but to adopt a ghost of that, too.
Norman Bates
The most thoughtful observer. If you need someone to make sure your moves are clean, he'd gladly observe and give his best critique (which would be 95% fawning and compliments, but he's doing his best to be good audience).
He'll never interrupt, and be very defensive over others interrupting you when you're dancing or even mentioning it.
He'd also get very interested in the music that you like to dance to, often playing it if he hears it on the radio and asking for your opinions on which songs make you the most light on your feet.
Also: lots of finding that the two of you suddenly own that ballet/album on vinyl, but it's more of an open secret that doesn't get more than a pointed glance from you and a sheepish glance in return from him. "Mother's always had that record, I don't know why you're so suspect."
While not a dancer himself, he gains security from dancing with you. Take his hand, and he'll follow your lead albeit a bit shyly, but find a way to love it as he loves you.
Tad Kennedy ⚡
Oh, baby!
He loves to dance as is, and while it's more for his stage performances, when he feels the groove he's gonna be right there with you. Even if you're just idly swaying while cooking or doing something unrelated, he'd be behind you swaying in the same rhythm.
Nothing makes him happier than seeing you work on your craft, and the delicate nature of some ballet would make him soft for sure.
If you're interested in watching ballet/dancing as well, he'd be keeping an eye out for shows to take you to -- and you best believe he'd be mentioning to every small talker that you also dance.
he would learn how to dance with you the best to his ability. even though he's more of a groovy hip shaker than a ballerina himself, he loves to share the dancefloor with you and can adjust if it means getting to do that.
#bubba sawyer x reader#thomas hewitt x reader#leslie vernon x reader#norman bates x reader#tad kennedy x reader#headcanons#slasher headcanons#✏️#🐖#🍎#🔪#⚡#(yes i enjoy bluey on occasion what of it)
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F a v o r i t e F i c s O f 2 0 2 2
As an avid One Direction fan fic reader, 2022 has been truly incredible! This may look like a long list for my favorites, but I read so many amazing fics this year that it was so hard to pare it down to just these. Please check out all the other fics I recced this year here! Below you will find fics that made me laugh or cry, brought me joy or filled me with emotion, and surprised or comforted me. I share this list not to say that these fics are better than the rest (although I think they're amazing), but to share ones that left a mark on me.
To all our fandom's writers, I thank you for gifting us with your stories, and I send so much love to all of you!
✼ Larry ✼
The Greatest Thing by @infinitelymint
(E, 163k, canon) the semi-canon accidentally married in Vegas fic that has been seven years in the making
ghost of you by beckywritesthings / @beckydoesthings
(E, 109k, Star Wars au) a Star Wars AU where Harry is Obi-Wan, Louis is Satine, and somehow there’s a love story between the cracks where there shouldn’t be.
For the Right Reasons by @juliusschmidt
(E, 105k, Bachelor au) Louis may have signed up to be a contestant on the Bachelor, but he’s not interested a ring or a proposal, not from Harry, not from anyone.
Into the Weeds by kair0sclerosis / @hearyouhowling
(M, 87k, strangers to friends to lovers) This is a story about small-town secrets, found family, queer identities, and the battle between fight and flight.
Late Night Talking by @kingsofeverything
(E, 53k, famous/famous) Louis Tomlinson has a new album coming out and a second world tour on the horizon. Promo season gets underway with a stop at Late Night Talking, the late night show hosted by Harry Styles, and Harry Styles just happens to be the man who blew a chance to date Louis a decade ago.
Chasing, Searching, Dreaming by @parmahamlarrie
(E, 46k, soulmates au) Harry has known who his soulmate is since he was twenty years old, and ever since, he has been waiting for Louis to be ready for him.
I Like You, Say It Back by ishiplouis / @pocketsunshineharry
(E, 43k, a/b/o) the one where it takes a lot of time for Harry and Louis to figure it out. But they do, they always do, don't they?
Mind of Stone by amomentoflove / @daggerandrose
(M, 41k, mythology au) He needs to find a way back home, and then figure out what the fuck happened at the bar tonight.
yeah, he's a looker (but i really think it's guts that matter most) by devilinmybrain / @thedevilinmybrain
(E, 40k, character study) Five times Oli was asked to do something that was outside of his job description, and the one time he didn't have to be asked.
Set the Sky Alight, Oh Holy Night by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup
(T, 33k, roommates) One house, five almost-strangers (plus Niall), six new beginnings.
All Out of Love by SunTomato / @sun-tomato
(G, 32k, cupid au) While on a mission to match Liam and Zayn, the distraction comes in the shape of Louis Tomlinson – an overworked and underloved man trying way too hard to do everything himself.
Misbehaving Honeys by thinlines / @thinlinez
(E, 29k, a/b/o) In which Omega Louis can't figure out why the alpha newbie on their footie team seems to hold a grudge against him.
dip you in honey by delsicle / @eeveelou
(E, 28k, a/b/o) Anxious about his performance on his wedding night, he enlists the help of his loyal handmaiden Louis to help him practice everything he needs to know
The Risen by @creamcoffeelou
(E, 20k, cult au) In search of the next breaking story, Harry goes off to do something no one else has been able to do: get the scoop on Louis Tomlinson and his devoted group of followers.
Love On Air by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom
(E, 19k, radio station) the one where Louis doesn't have a type, no matter what Niall says, but if he did, it'd probably be the guy currently trapped in his radio studio and grinning back at him from across the desk.
Breathe me in, breathe me out by @lunarheslwt
(E, 14k, a/b/o au) Louis is drawn into a quaint candle shop in his desire to find ways to soothe himself while struggling with touch depri. It takes him two more run-ins and with the lovely alpha sales assistant, and a drop, to figure out the source of the scent that imprints upon him and calms his omega.
Close Enough to Touch by YesIsAWorld / @louandhazaf
(M, 11k, tour au) Louis definitely did not need a masseuse on tour. Not even if that masseuse turned out to be gorgeous, kind, and lovely.
Just Your Jinx by @larryatendoftheday
(T, 10k, witch au) Harry Styles may or may not have accidentally jinxed his extremely fit new neighbor, and it's not so easy to make things right.
Wild As You by bluegreenish / @greenblueish
(M, 9k, country au) a story about how Harry figures out whether the ideal of a house with a white picket fence in the suburbs of a medium-sized city is what he wants, or whether Louis' sheep ranch is the home his heart really desires.
Just the Start by @littleroverlouis
(M, 9k, silver fox au) Louis is a fifty-two year old divorcé who has fallen into a rut. He never anticipated a forced day of self care, and a chance meeting with a charming salon owner would shake him out of his comfort zone.
How It Begins (series) by phdmama / @phd-mama
(E, 8k, kid fic) New town, new job, new school for his daughter. It's a chance to start again for Louis Tomlinson, a clean slate. Or is it?
good enough (for you) by localopa / @voulezloux
(G, 8k, a/b/o) in spite of the rule saying he needs an alpha to rule, he creates an impossible olympics to find a worthy mate.
The Bandits of Sherwood Forest by foreverfanficaddict / @chaotic-bells
(T, 8k, Robin Hood au) There has been a heap of legends and tall tales about him… But this is the story of what really happened in Sherwood Forest.
Mr. Tuesday by @jaerie
(E, 8k, sex work) It was true that most of his clients were regulars, but there was just something about Mr. Tuesday that would make him stand out amongst the others even if he hadn’t booked almost every single Tuesday with him for the past year.
Will Death Be Our Last Kiss, My Love? by @fallinglikethis
(M, 6k, Potter Direction) As a half-veela, Louis has always had a past full of romantic turmoil. But his past comes back to bite him fully on the ass when a case falls into the lap of fellow aurors, Niall and Liam.
We're Getting Better With Time by @haztobegood
(T, 5k, silver fox au) the one where Louis is single, Harry is recently divorced, and they reconnect on Facebook forty years after they first met.
Seems You Cannot Be Replaced by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird
(M, 5k, high school) Harry and the popular boy in school, Louis Tomlinson, share a tension-filled night together when they're young. Fifteen years later they see each other again.
Love Mail by @neondiamond
(G, 5k, neighbors au) the one where Harry and Louis keep mistakenly receiving each other’s mail (and also fall in love)
ring around the moon by unwept / @peachade
(T, 5k, historical au) 5 slices where they seek shelter in each other.
Simply the Nest (Better Than All the Rest) by @homosociallyyours
(G, 2k, a/b/o) It's been a few months since Louis moved to a new town, and he still hasn't managed to get his nest to feel as comforting as he'd like it to.
Cake Date? by @sadaveniren
(M, 2k, neighbors) Louis is raising money for a bake sale. Harry wants to help.
Check, Check, Checkmate by nonsensedarling / @absoloutenonsense
(E, 2k, Greek mythology au) Harry and Louis play chess... until another game becomes more interesting.
Zoey by @wabadabadaba
(G, 2k, cat fic) Harry has a huge crush on his cat's veterinarian and finally decides to do something about it.
Charm Your Pants Off by 4ureyesonly28 / @evilovesyou
(G, 2k, hospital au) When Harry hurt himself in front of all of his coworkers, he thought his Christmas Eve couldn’t get any worse. That was, until he ended up in an actual ambulance.
Needle by @nouies
(NR, 666 words, dark fantasy) “You didn’t deserve this,” he muttered between hiccups. “She didn’t have the right.”
there’s a house in english bond (somebody planned to stay) by safetyfilm / @larrieblr
(T, 666 words, rules) The Hotel dates back to the mid-17th century, and the owners have invested dearly to make it a home away from home. Please mind our building rules written below in order to have an exceptional stay.
Swings Said by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright
(T, 500 words, swing fic) A love story told by five swings who each were there to see a piece of it unfold.
✼ Rare Pairs ✼
leave my life outside (or let me in) by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed
(M, 52k, Zayn/Liam) Zayn is a 111 year old demon who is trying to decide his future. Liam is a 17 year old human struggling with his own life.
Make It Up As We Go Along by @lululawrence
(NR, 52k, OT5, a/b/o) When a baby is left on their doorstep, their lives become the definition of chaos...but maybe that is exactly what they need to see what has been right in front of them all along.
Sweet Talk (series) by wordsnnotes / @quelsentiment
(M, 14k, Louis/Niall) Louis growls and lunges at the slayer without warning. Niall easily deflects her, though, then grabs the collar of Louis’ leather coat with her unnaturally strong grip and throws her back into the wall where she came from.
With This Wing, I Thee Wed by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13
(T, 4k, Louis/Niall) “Nando’s?” Niall crosses his arms and pouts, a little line appearing between his eyebrows. “I want Nandos. I like Nandos.” “And I like my dignity,” Louis mutters.
Doin' Somethin' Right by @laynefaire
(E, 5k, Zayn/Liam) While Liam craved the bright lights and excitement of being on the road, Zayn has eschewed his prior fame, instead choosing a life of relative obscurity as the owner of a vineyard and bed and breakfast in Dauphin County, Pennsylvania.
Ready Or Not by cherrylarry / @beelou
(G, 4k, Liam/Louis) five times 1D play hide and seek over the years
still, somehow by @disgruntledkittenface
(NR, 1k, Liam/Louis) Louis trims Liam's split ends.
#trackinghome#hltracks#tracksintheam#1dficvillage#1dsource#ficrec#disgruntledkittenface#beelou#laynefaire#ladyaj-13#quelsentiment#lululawrence#so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed#infinitelymint#juliusschmidt#kingsofeverything#beckydoesthings#thedevilinmybrain#hearyouhowling#parmahamlarrie#pocketsunshineharry#haztobegood#jaerie#nouies#larrieblr#wabadabadaba#uhoh-but-yeah-alright#becomeawendybird#neondiamond#evilovesyou
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'tis the damn season (write this down)
For your consideration: some JatP Christmas fics
Summaries included below, check AO3 tags for more information
where the lovelight gleams by @bananakarenina
Julie Molina, one of the biggest popstars on the planet, is spending the month of December in New York City to promote her new Christmas album and a huge Christmas Eve concert at Madison Square Garden. Her team has hired her a personal driver for the whole month--Reggie Peters.
Julie's struggling with losing her creativity and passion, while Reggie is struggling with just trying to make rent in the big city; he hasn't been really creative in years. Can the two of them find their way back to music before Christmas comes? What else will they find along the way?
(Love. Obviously the answer is love.)
you could call me 'babe' for the weekend by @locketletters
“Look, there's no way my parents are going to buy the fact that you’re my boyfriend.”
Luke crosses his arms, brows furrowing, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
in which luke goes home with alex for he holidays as a pretend boyfriend, and leaves with him as a real one.
Not Found Under the Tree by @breakaway71
There's only one thing Julie wants for Christmas.
Haunted Holidays by @invisibleraven
JatP Advent ficlets 2023!
Our Luxury (A Love Like Stars) by @psyduckappears, @daintyduck99
“So, I bought a ring,” Luke says, casual in the way that usually Reggie would realize is nowhere near casual and much closer to freaking out, but he’s a little busy choking to death on his lunch.
not the last unknown by @bananakarenina
It's Christmas Eve, and the Molina family goes to church. This year they have a couple tagalongs.
Joy To The World by @wishfulstargazer
"Christmas in LA is free of snow, but not of spirit. In fact, between the lit up palm trees, the shop displays everywhere, Feliz Navidad playing on every radio station, and a host of Christmas music and decorations all over Los Feliz high school, Christmas is pretty much unavoidable.
It all grates on her nerves. Christmas without Rose Molina is unthinkable. Almost as unthinkable as music without Rose Molina."
Can a well meaning trio of ghost boys bring back Julie's Christmas spirit and help her reclaim her music?
From the Heart by @breakaway71
Reggie gives Julie a gift, but she is not the only one to have some feelings about it.
Hallelujah, Everybody Say Cheese (Merry Christmas From The Family) by @a-tomb-with-a-view
Reggie sighs and turns in Luke’s arms to face him. Luke leans forward to kiss Reggie’s nose, his smile playful even if his eyes are huge and full of concern. God but Reggie loves him. “I’m not going home for Christmas,” he admits eventually. “I don’t know what I’m doing, but… but not that.”
Luke frowns, and kisses Reggie’s forehead instead this time, having to lean up on tiptoes to do so. “Why don’t you come over to ours?”
Phantom Carols by @invisibleraven
Fills for the JatP Advent Event 2022!
Kiss Me Under the Missile Toad by @wr0temyway0ut
“Woah, little dude,” Willie says as he lowers Carlos to his feet. “You gotta be careful up there. What were you even doing?”
Carlos gives Willie a proud grin and thrusts something into their hands. “I’m hanging the missile toads!”
why do i care how much it may storm (i’ve got my love to keep me warm) by @tillstarscollided
There is something special about nighttime snowfall, how it’s quiet and almost eerie with only the lights from the porch to show it, but how that also means you can watch it collect and sparkle in a controlled section of light instead of being blinded by the sun reflecting off the entire landscape of white. There had been snow on the ground already, slowly melting, but this new batch was evening it out, covering up the mud and sludge with a new blank canvas that Reggie really wanted to just go and mess up with snowmen and snow angels, as the ones he had already made disappeared, but it was 1 am and he should be cuddling in bed with his partners, and he has bad impulse control but not that bad of impulse control.
or:
Reggie’s partners bring him to New York to see the snow, and he hasn’t stopped staring since.
a lonely boy on christmas by @nuandia
Alex doesn’t really think twice. He takes the tangerines and a wrapped sandwich and a bottle of water out of his shopping bag and offers them to him. The boy looks up, startled. His face guarded, his posture tense before he blinks at Alex and then relaxes. He smiles a tentative smile and slowly reaches for the offered groceries. But his eyes are sparkling, making the breath in Alex’s throat catch.
Or, everybody's lonely on Christmas Eve. Or well, maybe not.
Of Hearts Borrowed And Blue by @daintyduck99
“Some vacation,” Julie mutters, shedding the duvet and reaching for the coffee maker.
She still doesn’t know why everyone was so convinced that a change of scenery would do her good—it’s not like Julie can outrun Christmas. Caleb apparently also forgot to mention that everyone in this town is obsessed with the holiday, which isn’t all that different from the current atmosphere at Molina Family Photography.
If anything, Julie’s even more of a grinch here that she would be back home, because she stuffed all of her grief into a battered suitcase, and she can’t just pull it out for every single stranger trying to get her into the Christmas spirit.
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keefe and/or sokeefe <33
oh summer.... sorry you're getting a 1989 song too it's just kind of what they are to me.
hmm let's do my boy Keefe first though!
No Lullaby by SIAMES
What's the meaning when you have a broken home, home, home?
Where's the love when you were left on your own?
So alone.
//
Who said you're on your own?
First mood of Keefe Sencen: get this man some found family right the fuck now. Idk! I think that this song is such a good representation of Keefe's mentality on stuff.
He thinks of himself as broken and unlovable, and pushes the people who care most about him away. He doesn't recognize his achievements and what he's done and who he's around because of the way he's been raised.
He doesn't know how to love or be loved because he believes himself to be alone.
So I think that's why the last line of this song, the 'who said you're on your own?' is so important. He deserves to be loved more than anything.
Just a nice little comfort that he's getting in these later canon books for ya.
Toes by Glass Animals
I'm a man, I'm a twisted fool
My hands are twisted too
//
All I ever want
Is breaking me apart
It's really important to me that we acknowledge that Keefe does have a side to him that's less morally correct. I think he deserves to be selfish and anything that says he isn't fucked up is so wrong.
He's a poor little meow meow and I think he should be unhealthy. That's all. This song's sound captures that so much more than a lot of the lyrics do, but I still think these lyrics do it pretty well. He tries to be mysterious mysterious and he's fucked up and the delivery shows that.
Head Full Of Doubt/Road Full Of Promise by The Avett Brothers
And there was a kid with a head full of doubt
So I'll scream til I die and the last of those bad thoughts are finally out.
//
There's a darkness upon me that's flooded in light
And I'm frightened by those who don't see it
This song is so very special to me, and it goes to Keefe because of how much I project onto him /hj
In reality it's just such a powerful song to me. It's so moving and reflective and that's the way I want Keefe's arc to go. To be able to grow and change and turn around to see how far he's come. He hasn't made it, but he's getting there.
He's alive, and he's loved, and that's what he needs.
Ok! Sokeefe!!
This Love by Taylor Swift
Your kiss, my cheek
I watched you leave
Your smile, my ghost
//
When you're young, you just run
But you come back to what you need
I was going to apologize but no! 1989 by Taylor Swift and Sokeefe give me the same vibes so I will not say sorry. Both the ship and this album are some kind of nostalgia for me. Like driving in a car during summer, all of your worries and regrets vanishing as you try to let everything you've been through wash away.
Sokeefe to me is that heavy feeling you get in August. It's that sweet smile that turns sad, it's watching the sun go down ignoring that it'll come back up again and what comes next. They're taking the moment to laugh instead of to cry. They remind themselves that there is something good and carefree in this world.
Soap by The Oh Hellos
I think that you're worth keeping around
I think that you're worth holding onto
//
It's gonna hurt like hell
But we're gonna be well
I'll give you my best shot
They just! Idk they're joyous and they're so much more than romantic. That's what I love about sophie and keefe. I think they're so much more than a romantic relationship could ever give them. They are best friends and worst enemies and when they look into the mirror they see one another. They counter act each other. They are just. Idk man!
Either way, this song is just so uplifting but also there's something about it. Just reminds me of them.
#longpost#kotlc#tobi talks too much#asks#sokeefe#sophie foster#keefe sencen#i dont have enough pheasable thoughts to be able to be like 'oh this is why and this too' for these songs but also.#farewell wanderlust by the amazing devil and little talks by of monsters and men
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Grabbing Smoke
As much time as Sam spent with her best friends, sometimes she enjoyed a little bit of time alone.
Tucker was helping his mother bake cookies for some kind of fundraiser for the hospital, and Danny was busy visiting Pandora for fighting lessons. Apparently they were using swords today.
As fun as it sounded, Sam opted to stay behind, it had been a while since she'd been down to the park to feed the ducks. She didn't get quiet moments like that very often any more.
There was an uncharacteristic skip to her gait as she walked to the park, a canvas tote bag swinging from her arm.
Living in Amity Park, and especially hanging around with Danny, gave her an eerie sense to when something was amiss. Nothing quite like Danny's ghost sense, but she'd learned to detect a particular chill to the air, a prickling at the back of her neck. It could easily be mistaken for a chilly breeze, but Sam knew better. The crunch of gravel under Sam's boots was the only sound permeating the still air, not even the trees were rustling.
She continued her walk through the park, past the wishing fountain and through a trail where the trees grew slightly more dense.
The trail opened up to a large pond, it wasn't anything especially picturesque, the reeds were a little overgrown, the ground was muddy, but there were a few simple weather worn benches by the path that looped around the water.
Sam took a seat, pulling out a bag of frozen peas. She opened it, tipped a few into her hand and tossed them into the water.
The ducks immediately sped across the pond toward her, fighting for the peas that the turtles hadn't already gotten to.
Instead of grabbing another handful, she held the bag out to the empty seat to her left, waiting for a moment before shaking the bag impatiently.
A green hand slipped into the bag, pulling out a handful of peas before tossing them into the water.
"How'd you know I was here?" Kitty asked, now sitting visibly on the other end of the bench as Sam poured out more peas for both of them.
"I have my ways." Sam smirked. "What I want to know is why you've been following me all week."
"You knew for that long and you didn't say nothin'?" Kitty huffed. "Damn, I gotta up my game."
A duck waddled up and nibbled on her boot.
"Alright alright, ya hungry little doofus." Kitty lowered a hand full of peas and cooed as the duck happily ate from her palm. "Aww these guys aren't shy at all, do you come here a lot?"
"When I can." Sam tossed a few more peas into the water for the turtles. "So why are you following me?"
Kitty sat back and pressed her lips together, thinking.
"Look it's just... I don't remember much from when I was livin', you know? It's all sorta grey and fuzzy, I can't remember what anyone looked like, except Johnny." she tossed some peas to a smaller duck at the back of the group. "But as soon as I showed up here in town and I saw your face, I thought I felt... I dunno, somethin'. Like I'd seen you before, or maybe you just reminded me of someone, but I can't remember who, it's like grabbing smoke."
She lobbed a few peas a little harder than was necessary at the water. The turtles sucked them up greedily.
"So you've just been following me hoping you might remember something else?" Sam asked.
"Yeah," Kitty sighed. "But it's not working."
Sam swung her foot idly between a pair of scuffling ducks, splitting them up before tossing out some more peas.
"Maybe I'm related to someone you knew. Where did you grow up?"
Kitty frowned down at the water.
"I... I don't know." she said, deflating somewhat. "I didn't even realise I forgot that."
Sam couldn't help but feel for her, Danny had told her that ghosts would often forget things from their past, especially once they'd been dead for longer than they'd been alive. Somehow she had never really considered how terrifying that must be.
"You know..." Sam started carefully. "I could show you some old family photos. Maybe you'll recognise someone?"
Kitty looked up, eyes shining brightly.
"Really? You'd do that for me?"
"Why not?" Sam shrugged. "If you were here to cause trouble you would have done it by now."
"Aw, I never thought you'd wanna do something like that for me." said Kitty, smiling brightly. "You always seemed like such a bitch."
Sam laughed.
"If you'd spent a week being someone that wasn't Paulina, I would probably have seemed like less of a bitch."
"So you guys are big rivals or somethin'?" Kitty asked, grabbing some more peas and giggling as three ducks tried to eat from her hand at once.
"It's more that we have... conflicting ideologies. She thinks that appearances and reputation are the most important things in life, just like my parents." Sam lobbed some more peas into the water, they both watched them disappear as the turtles quickly snapped them up. "It's shallow and stupid, and I don't get why they have to push that shit on everyone. I don't care what people think, I just want to be whoever the hell I wanna be without having to fight for it all the time."
Kitty's face turned contemplative as she tapped her nails on the back of the bench.
"I think... I was like that." she said, slowly. "I wanted to feel fun and exciting, but my parents..."
She trailed off, frowning.
"My parents... I didn't like them. They didn't like me bein' the way I was, I can't really remember why."
Sam emptied out the last of the peas and scattered them over the ground, she scrunched up the empty packet and shoved it back into her tote bag.
"You know, if we went to school together we would probably have gotten along." said Sam as she stood up, gesturing toward the path. "Let's go check out those photos."
Instead of floating invisibly behind, Kitty walked by Sam's side as they headed back to her house. She idly waved at people as they drove past, grinning when someone stared a little too long and almost ran a red light.
"You know, it's nice bein' able to walk around in the day." Kitty said, skipping a little. "Wish I could do it more often."
"What's stopping you?"
"What do you think?" Kitty's lip pulled up in disgust. "Any time I show up your dumb friend sucks me up in his stupid thermos. Only reason I can walk around right now is because I got you as my get out of jail free card."
"Danny doesn't care if you just want to walk around." Sam scoffed. "He lets ghosts wander around town all the time, he only gets involved when you start breaking things."
"Uggghhh but just walking around is so boring." Kitty pouted. "I mean yeah it's nice and I like it but it gets old real quick."
"Then you'll have to get used to getting tossed back in the ghost zone. Do not pass go, do not collect $200."
"Don't you ever get sick of his goody goody attitude?" Kitty asked. "I mean you and I aren't so different right? You're all about the rebel gig, don't you ever feel like keyin' some asshole's car, or takin' a baseball bat to some mail boxes?"
"Only if they deserve it." said Sam with a smirk. "But I feel like you aren't especially picky about whose stuff you're breaking."
They approached the door to the Manson mansion, Sam hopped up the steps and stuck the key in the lock. She touched the mezuzah on the doorpost without a second thought before opening the door and standing aside to invite Kitty in.
The ghost stared up at her warily.
"I can't get past it."
"Past what?" Sam asked.
"The mezuzah, it keeps me out."
"What?" Sam frowned. "It hasn't stopped other ghosts from getting in."
"Well it stops me." Kitty insisted. "I think it's got somethin' to do with what we believed in when we were alive. I haven't got a problem with churches but when Johnny tried to ride his bike through one he couldn't get in. His mom raised him Catholic, he says he doesn't believe in any of that stuff, but I think he still does, deep down."
"So does that mean you were Jewish?" Sam asked, smiling curiously.
"I AM Jewish." Kitty crossed her arms. "Bein' a ghost hasn't changed that, it just... means that we got a few things a little wrong."
Sam thought about that for a moment, before stepping aside and gesturing toward the door again.
"Well, if you've been invited and you're not going to cause any trouble, then I don't see why you shouldn't be able to come in."
Kitty climbed the steps slowly, fingers reaching out and cautiously brushing over the mezuzah, she didn't feel anything unusual, no zap or burn or pain. She took a step through the doorway and passed the threshold without issue, no invisible force or barrier like the last time she tried to follow Sam inside.
"Well, what do you know." she said, grinning.
Sam lead her into a large, open planned kitchen and dining area, the tiles were bright white save for the specks of mud Sam's boots tracked through the room. The decor was minimalist, the atmosphere bland and sterile, she could smell some kind of citrus surface cleaner.
The back wall was all windows, leading to a patio surrounded by perfectly trimmed grass. As they approached, Sam turned, heading towards a door to their right.
The next room felt a lot more friendly, it was full of bookshelves and red tones. The lounges looked soft and inviting, a fireplace sat cold and empty against the back wall, but Kitty didn't have to try hard to imagine it roaring to life, filling the room with its warm glow.
"This is basically my Grandma's part of the house." Sam informed her, voice low. "Her bedroom is just through there, she's usually napping around this time of day so try not to make too much noise."
Kitty slipped off her jacket and laid it over the back of the lounge, already feeling at home in the cosy little room. She looked over the books as Sam fussed around some kind of large ornate chest.
"Here it is." She hefted a large photo album from the chest, carefully closing and latching it again. "Let's see if you recognise anyone in here."
Kitty sat down beside Sam as she opened up the pristine book, the outer cover was beige with the name Manson inscribed in golden cursive on the front. The first page was full of old faded photos, in greyscale or sepia tones.
"Ugh, I'm not that old." said Kitty, flicking ahead a few pages.
The pictures were colourful now, but still grainy, there was a young blonde boy in seventies style jeans leaning casually against a Chevrolet.
"Wait hold up," Kitty pointed at the boy. "Him, I feel like I've seen him before."
"That's my dad." said Sam, surprised. "His name is Jeremy, did you know him?"
Kitty hummed a little, gently tracing a finger over the picture.
"Jeremy... Jeremy, I'm not sure," she frowned. "But he definitely looks familiar."
They continued through the book, when suddenly Kitty slapped her hand down roughly on a photo of a pair of young women.
"Her! I know her! She was a mega bitch!"
"Shhh keep it down." Sam hissed.
"Sorry," Kitty pointed to the blonde girl in the photo. "That one! I don't know how I knew her, but I definitely knew her. She was a total brat."
Sam slipped the photo out of its sleeve and read the neat cursive on the back.
"This is... my Aunt Caroline, in 1985. She's my dad's sister." Sam looked up at Kitty, amused. "I can't believe you had beef with my family."
"Your family are snobs." Kitty sniffed. "Carrie was such a ditz, she thought she was sooo bitchin' because her daddy bought her a Mercedes."
"Yeah, that sounds about right." Sam grimaced. "Did you guys go to school together or something?"
"Maybe..." Kitty took the photo from Sam's hand, staring intently. "I'm pretty sure I skipped school a lot, I hated it there. It was a private school, we had to wear uniforms, barf."
"I would never have guessed you were a private school kid." Sam shook her head. "But most people would say that about me so it's not like I can judge."
"You went to private school?" Kitty asked, "How'd you end up in that Casper High dump?"
"Got myself expelled." said Sam, voice thick with pride. "Elementary, middle and high school, got kicked out of all three."
"Damn, you're good."
Sam grinned, slipping the photo back in its sleeve and continuing to the next page.
Kitty pointed to a few other photos, remarking on their familiarity, but not quite able to grasp how she knew them, the memories only flickered in her periphery.
"Wait," Kitty whispered, fingers brushing over a polaroid containing three people. "This is..."
The picture looked as though it were taken at some kind of party, a man and a woman faced the camera, each with a glass of champagne raised in their hands. The woman's other hand rested on the shoulder of a teenage girl with auburn hair, pulled into a tidy braid. She stared glumly at the camera.
"That's Katherine." Sam said, pointing to the girl. "She was my dad's cousin, but she got hit by a car when she was-"
Sam paused, looking over at Kitty's wide eyes and then back to the photo.
"Noooo way." Sam pulled the photo out of the sleeve. "Is this you?"
Kitty took the photo in trembling hands.
"I... I forgot I used to look like that." she fiddled with a lock of her green, teased hair. "I remember this party, I didn't want to go but mom and dad threatened to take away all my records and cassettes if I didn't."
Sam stared at Kitty, mouth agape.
"You're Car Crash Katherine?! My dad talks about you all the time! He always told me about the shit you used to get up to, he'd tell me that any kind of 'rebellious behaviour' was a slippery slope to 'dying on the back of some delinquent's motorcycle'." Sam put a hand on Kitty's shoulder. "You were my bad influence role model."
Kitty's red eyes shone with tears, photo still in hand, she wrapped her arms around Sam.
"This is majorly wicked! My legacy lives on! Corrupting the youth from beyond the grave!" Kitty laughed. "My parents would go totally mental."
She stopped laughing, her face turning forlorn as she drew back from Sam and stared down at the picture.
"Are they still alive?" she asked, a tremble in her voice.
"Yeah..." said Sam. "They live in a retirement home in Florida. They don't come around very often."
Kitty traced a finger over their faces.
"I wonder if they miss me." she said quietly. "Or if they were glad to be rid of the family embarrassment."
Sam didn't answer, she had wondered the same thing herself, if her parents would even care if she died. They hadn't given her a lot of reason to think they would.
She rested a sympathetic hand on Kitty's arm.
"Oh, you have a friend over bubbeleh?" a croaky voice spoke from the bedroom doorway.
Sam and Kitty both turned to see Ida Manson shuffling into the room, cleaning her glasses with her sleeve.
"Sorry Grandma, we didn't mean to be too loud." Sam apologised. "This is my... um, friend, Kitty. Kitty this is my Grandma Ida-"
"Ida?!" Kitty shot to her feet, staring in shock at the old woman. "Aunt Ida?!"
Ida squinted at Kitty, before quickly setting her glasses back on her face.
"Well as I live and breath, is that you Kathy?"
"Oh my god this is getting super weird." Sam whispered.
Kitty leapt over the ottoman to wrap Ida up in a tight hug, the old woman was surprised for a moment, but held her warmly in return.
"It's me Aunt Ida! Not really living or breathing but it's me!" Kitty laughed breathlessly.
"Oh my goodness, when all the ghosts started showing up all over town I wondered if I would ever see someone I knew." She rubbed comforting circles on Kitty's back as the ghost choked on a few sobs. "It's good to see you again Kathy."
Ida pulled away and wiped a tear from Kitty's face.
"And I'm so glad you aren't stuck wearing what your parents buried you in."
Kitty couldn't help but laugh through her tears.
"Let me guess, it was that putrid blue dress, wasn't it?"
"The dress wasn't nearly as bad as what they did to your hair." Ida snickered, patting Kitty's hand. "It had little ribbons in it and everything."
"I almost forgot you." Kitty placed her palm gently against Ida's face. "You were the only one in the family who ever loved me for being me, and I almost forgot you. I'm so sorry, I should have come to find you sooner but I just-"
"Shhhh, it's okay bubbeleh." Ida grasped her hand tight. "I think being dead is a pretty good excuse for forgetting a few things."
Sam stood beside the lounge, watching the two in shock, she wasn't entirely certain whether or not to intrude. Whatever she had been expecting to discover with Kitty today, it certainly hadn't been this.
Though in hindsight, it did explain Kitty's familiarity with Sam, people always said she had taken after her Grandma.
Ida let go of Kitty and hobbled over to the photo album still sitting on the lounge.
"Oh you don't want to look at that album." she said, as she shoved it onto the coffee table. She wandered to the other side of the room and began rummaging around in a small cupboard. "You want this one."
She pulled out a book with well worn, peeling edges. Pieces of the plastic sleeves had cracked off and crumbled away. It was old, and weatherbeaten, it was obvious that Ida had looked through it many many times.
"Here we go." she sat down in the middle of the lounge, gesturing for the two girls to come sit beside her. "These are the forbidden photos."
She opened the pages, the photos inside were entirely different from the 'official' album, there were no perfectly poised, prim and proper photos of people in nice, presentable clothes. They were all candid shots, people in the middle of eating or laughing, some were stumbling around blind drunk, a few were smoking joints. There were pictures from parties and protest rallies, in backyards and drive ins.
There was a picture of Jeremy as a young boy, grinning with one of his front teeth missing and grass in his hair.
"Only in this family would losing your baby teeth make a photo 'unsavoury'." Ida grizzled as she continued through the album. "I saved so many pictures that my husband would have thrown out otherwise."
"Ugh, Uncle Peter was such a prude, he wouldn't even let me in the house if I didn't have my shoulders covered up." Kitty rolled her eyes.
"He used to be so much more relaxed when we were young." Ida sighed. "He changed when he inherited his father's business, he forgot how to have fun."
A few pages later Kitty squealed in excitement.
"Oh my god! That's Frankie! She was my best friend, we used to do everything together!"
The Kitty in the photo looked far more like the Kitty Sam knew. Her hair was teased up, and she was wearing a crop top and a miniskirt. The other girl, Frankie, had short curled hair and a leather jacket. They each had an arm around the others' shoulder and grinned wildly.
"I love this one." Ida smiled as she pulled the picture out of the sleeve. "That was the night I gave you a lift to that concert."
"Oh that show was sooo good! I got my nose pierced there! It got so infected, Mom grounded me for a month." Kitty laughed.
"Man, and I thought I was cool for skipping school to go see Circus Gothica." Sam grinned. "I'm gonna have to come home with a tattoo next time."
"I can't believe I forgot about Frankie, I can't believe I forgot about all of this." Kitty held the photo close to her chest, a few tears running down her face. "I'm so glad it's not gone for good."
She kept the photo in hand as they looked through the rest of the album. There were many pictures of Ida, all of them with other people of all walks of life.
"Oh this was when you took us to that pride parade!" Kitty smiled. "You made Frankie so happy, and you knew a lot of the drag queens there, like a LOT."
"Grandma took me to a drag show when I was 10," said Sam. "Even took me backstage to meet them all, my parents thought we went to the theatre to see Romeo and Juliet."
"Oh I have photos from that." Ida flipped through the pages, getting closer to the end of the album. "Here we are, oh Evelyn just LOVED you."
Sam looked at the picture of Evelyn, frowning slightly.
"Oh weird, she kinda looks like Mr Lancer's sister, he keeps her photo on his desk..." Sam paused as she processed what she just said. "That's not his sister is it?"
"You probably shouldn't bring it up." said Ida gently. "Teachers can get in trouble for associating with this sort of thing."
"That's so bogus!" Kitty cried. "I really thought this kinda stuff would be better in the future!"
"It is," Ida assured her. "But we're a long way from perfect."
Ida flipped back through the album, searching for more pictures of Kitty and Frankie. There were a good few of them, each one Ida pulled out and passed over for Kitty to look at and hold onto.
"Oh woah, is that Johnny?" Sam pointed to a picture of Kitty sitting on the back of a motorcycle with a blonde boy. "He looks exactly the same, just a little less pale."
"Oh, did Johnny come back as a ghost too?" Ida asked.
"Yeah! We've been together all this time, in sickness and in death." Kitty beamed. "Mom and dad blamed him for everything I did, even if he wasn't around when I did it. They said him and Frankie were 'corrupting' me."
She rolled her eyes.
"I bet they blamed him for my death too. They'd be so mad if they knew we were still together."
"Just goes to show they had no chance of keeping you two apart." Ida said. "Not even death could do that."
Kitty held the photo tight in both hands, her shoulders began to shake slightly.
"It was my fault you know." she said with a trembling little giggle. "Funny huh? My parents always blamed him for everything, but in the end it was my fault we got hit. We were havin' a fight over somethin' stupid and I distracted him-"
Ida wrapped an arm around Kitty, patting her head comfortingly as she laid it against the old woman's shoulder.
"I think you're being too hard on yourself bubbeleh." Ida whispered gently into her hair. "It was raining, the truck that hit you was running a red light, the driver was charged for both your deaths. Even if you did distract him, you weren't the only card at play that night."
She gave Kitty a light shake.
"And don't think I didn't see the way Johnny used to drive that thing, he was reckless. I have no doubt that he wasn't paying as much attention as he should have been." She placed a kiss on the girl's forehead and squeezed her tight. "It's not fair to hold all of that responsibility on yourself, even if you both did everything right, that truck still would have run that red light, it still would have been raining. It was just pure rotten luck."
Sam had never heard a ghost talk about their death before, even Danny didn't like talking about his accident, and asking about it was incredibly taboo. Sam had been pushing her luck earlier just by mentioning the car crash.
It said a lot about Kitty's love for Ida that she chose to open up about it. Sam couldn't say she was surprised, her Grandma had always been like that. Never anything but an endless well of love and support, and the occasional kick in the pants if you needed it.
"Johnny's always had rotten luck." Kitty sniffed. "Follows him like a shadow."
"Literally." Sam snorted.
After a few more moments, Ida pulled herself away from Kitty, she got up and began rooting through the cupboards, muttering to herself.
"Aha, here it is."
She brought over an empty photo album, it was roughly the size of a small pocketbook, containing only one photo sleeve per page.
"I meant to fill this with photos for Sam to keep." Ida admitted as she shuffled back over to the girls. "But I don't think she'll mind donating it to a good cause."
She winked at Sam, who nodded back.
"Here," Ida pressed the little album into Kitty's hands. "Memories are a fickle thing, but photos are forever."
"I can't take these!" Kitty insisted, pushing the album back. "They're your memories too!"
"Oh my god you're both so old." Sam laughed, "Dad has a printer/scanner. I can make copies."
As Sam took the polaroids to her dad's office, Ida and Kitty pored over the rest of the album, Kitty picking out more photos to copy. She chose a few of Ida and Sam, and even one of Carrie.
"She was a total loser and I hated her but I don't hate remembering her, you know? I want to remember everything, even the bad stuff."
She took a photo of her parents, just one.
When Sam came back with the last batch of photos, Ida finished slipping them into the little album.
"There's still a few sleeves left." Sam pointed out, holding up her phone with a smile. "We've got room for a couple of family reunion pics."
The two girls squished up against Ida as Sam snapped as many shots as she could. Ones where they smiled, ones where they laughed, ones where they laid haphazardly across the lounge together.
Then Sam took a few candids of just Kitty and Ida, as they looked through the new album they'd just made together. Capturing Kitty laughing at something as Ida looked at her with a soft, loving smile.
Kitty clutched the album to her chest as she gave Ida a long, drawn out hug.
"Thank you so much." she said, her voice thick with gratitude. "It's like I can see my life in colour again."
She left the house with the assurance that she would always be welcome back, at any time, and a promise that she would always be looking out for her 'new favourite cousin'.
Sam flicked through the photos she took on her phone, she would have to make sure to have copies printed by the time Kitty returned to visit.
She knew Kitty coming over regularly was going to make things complicated, her apparent newfound protectiveness over Sam could potentially backfire in many spectacular ways, she was petty and troublesome when in the right mood.
But then again, so was Ida, and so was Sam.
At least she had better things to do now than beat up strangers' mail boxes, Danny was certainly going to be glad to hear that.
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the bodyguard
— Kirishima gets assigned to be the bodyguard to one of the worlds greatest idols: you. —
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pairing: bodyguard!kirishima eijirou x idol!reader
warnings: nsfw, 18+, brat taming, authority kink, spanking, blowjob, slapping, choking, brat taming, brat!reader, modern!au, no quirks, bodyguard!kirishima, idol!reader, PTSD portrayal, anxiety, war flashbacks, implied minor character death, drugging, alcohol consumption, size difference: kirishima is 2 feet taller than you, regardless of the reader’s original height. If you’re 6 ft congrats he’s 8 ft.
word count: 20,500
a/n: this is for the bnharem collab.... im so sorry, it’s 4:30 am and I have a plane to catch in 2 hours to get back to school. thank you jo for proofreading this for me because lol I am a mess. if the paragraph spacing did not work as I wish it does, please let me know so I can go in and edit in visible paragraph spacers!
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“I’ll be okay.”
The smell of dirt, sweat, and blood clung to the air.
The sun was setting, its blood-red shine illuminating against the destroyed earth, making the already bloodied soil even bloodier.
There was no telling if the land was quiet, if the reason why the world's silence was because the world just for this moment had gone silent, or if the earlier explosions were still ringing in his ears.
Kirishima sat wounded, his back pressed to the wall, his eyes wide, breathing erratic. He can’t move, can’t bother picking up the gun that lays abandoned by his knee as warm, sticky liquid spills onto his clothed knees and continues to soak the fabric of his jeans.
What had he done?
What in the fucking world had he done?!
BOOM!
Kirishima stills, his eyes stilling on the floor and looking at the clear moisture. He doesn’t need to touch his face to know it’s a combination of both sweat and tears.
His ears sing with white noise, the erratic beat of his heart, and his pained breathing.
“I’ll be okay,” the ghost taunts his mind.
But I’m not okay, Kirishima tries to speak, but knows with how his tongue is sitting like a thick dried sponge in his mouth, he won’t be able to speak. Pushing off the cold floor, flops onto his back, his arm flinging over his closed, shaken eyes until the ringing in his ear disappears into his alarm clock.
05:30.
Kirishima lays there for a bit more, his chest still heaving heavily with the weight of lead.
Inhale.
Hold.
Exhale.
Better?
No, not yet.
Kirishima runs through breathing exercises, his chest never stopping in it’s hiccuped, broken pants as his memories continue to haunt his mind. If only he was smarter, more observant, better.
“Time to get up, time to get up, time to get up,” his phone screams with his second alarm set at 06:45. The sound does what it’s intended, jolting Kirishima out of his own head. His labored breathing shallowing just enough for his lungs to finally grasp ahold of its required function.
Today was an important day for him; he needed to be on his tiptop game, according to what Toshinori said yesterday.
I’m okay, he convinced himself as he does every morning after having this dream. Kirishima flings his arm off his eyes, the morning purple sun shining softly through his blinds. I’m okay.
Date: 4/2
Time: 08:00
Location: UA Services
“And in other news, music industries princess Y/n has been attacked by yet another round of masked perpetrators. Fortunately for the music idol, she was left unhurt but was clearly rattled. This is but the fourth attack on Y/n since three weeks ago. It’s leaving many of us fans, spectators, and civilians wondering just what is being done to ensure her safety? Y/n is reported to not have a single bodyguard to her name, wanting to quote-on-quote ‘experience her fans to the fullest’, but with these recent attacks, we can’t help but hope something is done. At least until something is done about these attackers—”
Kirishima’s eyes tore away from the screen, his lips pressed into a deep frown as he took in the story. There was deep worry about it, not only because he hated the idea of people getting hurt, but because he was a big fan of yours.
Your debut album had come out during his training camp for the military. Not only was it an instant billboard smasher breaking every standing record, but his commanding officers were obsessed with the album and played it continuously until they graduated. Most of Kirishima’s comrades came to dislike your music solely because they remember throwing up, bleeding, and suffering while you sang about love and whatnot, but Kirishima? Kirishima fell in love.
It was a bright spot in his life, and he was grateful for your music, even if it has been ten years and six albums since the training camp.
“Yo, Kiri!” a voice cheered out happily as a hand clasped onto his shoulder from behind. Kirishima held the flinch that threatened to rip through his bones. Kirishima turned to find Kaminari grinning up at him, a cup of steaming tea in one hand as he grinned brightly at his coworker. “I heard you’re finally getting a good case today!”
Kirishima found himself relaxing at the sight of his rather spontaneous friend, a warm smile easing onto his face as he raised his fist for a greeting fist bump.
“We’ll see, I know Toshi’ said it was going to be important, but he also said escorting the paranoid old lady was important,” Kirishima sighed, his smile softening a bit.
Kaminari laughed, his arm slinging around Kirishima’s shoulders as he remembered that.
The little old lady was sure that the government was out to kill her and wanted protection until her son returned from his vacation. Needless to say, Kirishima had thoroughly enjoyed his time with her, even if she was a bit scary. It was a low-risk job, and he only was paranoid by her cane, which she used to thwack his back many times as she talked about how plums extended your life.
“God, I remember subbing in for you for one hour because of your family emergency, and she was so scary! She still haunts my nightmares!” Kaminari shudders, placing the cup of his tea to his lip and taking a long, slow drink. His eyes shift over to the TV, which is still broadcasting the story of your attack. “What a bunch of bastards,” he growls, eyebrows scrunching as the news reporter ends the segment. “Thinking they can go after such a beautiful and talented idol… I’ll kill them.”
Kirishima was more than well aware of Kaminari’s plentiful budding romances. The blond man fell in love with just about any smiling woman who happened to waltz in front of him. Still, unlike most times, he found himself agreeing with him.
“It sounds really serious. I hope that she really considers some type of security team,” Kirishima inputs too, taking the teacup in his fingers with a nod of thanks. “There’re too many weirdos in Japan and in the world, I wouldn’t want to hear the news the day something bad happens.”
Kaminari hums, his face nearing Kirishima’s as he takes a small sip of the apparently black tea. His eyes scrunch, and Kirishima smiles awkwardly as the blond studies him intently.
“W-Wha—”
“You like Y/n!” Kaminari exclaims (accuses, maybe?), his arm leaving Kirishima’s shoulders as he points a finger accusingly at him. “I thought I was the only one in this department who did!”
“Don’t be an idiot, Denki,” the familiar voice of Sero responds for Kirishima. “Everyone in the world is in love with Y/n; she was voted the favorite artist of the year in our company. Everyone but Bakugou voted for her if I remember correctly.”
Kirishima looks over at his black-haired friend who is rummaging through his locker, his mouth curved into an easy, teasing smile as he looks between the bashful Kaminari and sneering Bakugou, who also seemed to just walk in.
“Her shit is basic and overrated,” Bakugou defended himself. “Nothing special and bad for your brain and ears.”
“Your go-to music playlist is fifty percent death metal and alt. rock. I don’t think you have ground to say that it’s bad for your brain and ears,” Midoriya’s snicker sounded from behind Kirishima, and he looked around to see the freckled man grinning at the snarling ash blond.
“And how does your stalker ass know that, shitnerd?!”
“‘Cause I’m a stalker, duh.”
“Oh, Bakugou-kun, Midoriya-kun! You’re both here! Todoroki-kun is looking for you!”
“I’m just saying that Y/n’s dates to all the award shows and premieres have been blond. She’s into blonds, so she would totally be into me!”
“Deku, if you don’t shut up, I’m going to kill you myself.”
“You wouldn’t even be able to protect Y/n, bro. The only thing you performed well on in the application process was the tasing part. You can’t even tase people repetitively! She’d be dead in a second.”
“Can you believe my client dropped me because I couldn’t cook a five-star meal correctly? Hello, I can make 7-11 into a five-star course; it’s not my fault they’re not refined.”
“Kirishima-kun, are you okay?”
“I deadass got into a dance competition on the way to work. That’s why I’m late, why would I lie? Of course, I had to compete; my reputation was on the line!”
“Kirishima-kun?”
“Yo, he’s not looking too hot?”
“Kirishima?!”
“Can you hear us?!”
Silence.
Kirishima found himself opening his eyes — when had he closed them? For a moment, the air turned coppery, his body feeling weak, and he thought he felt something heavy on his lap. But that wasn’t right; he was standing up, he wasn’t sitting down. Most importantly, he was in Tokyo, Japan. He was alright. He was safe.
The sweat that clung to the back of his neck was cold, clammy, and intrusive. His chest felt tight again, his hands shaking so harshly the tea's warm, dark liquid was sloshing onto the floor.
There were seven pairs of eyes on him, each a different color, each swimming with concern and other emotions. Kirishima knew his ears weren’t working right now, his face unable to meet his brain's screaming demands to smile, and he watched as their mouths moved as they questioned his sanity.
He was okay.
He was okay.
He was okay.
“Kirishima?”
Kirishima looked up, his neck craning to the side to see a tall, skinny man standing at the doorway.
Toshinori Yagi was an esteemed bodyguard, one of the best in the industry, which was saying something considering that most bodyguards went unknown and unnamed. According to Google, Toshinori gained the nickname All Might after saving multiple political and celebrity lives when the government could not. It was long after his prime, and the man had retired but has since filled as the company’s head — thus why this job was near impossible to get.
Kirishima heaved a breath, realizing that he hadn’t taken a single breath when Toshinori’s bruised eyes narrowed in his concern.
“C-Coming,” Kirishima smiled, the blood rushing to his ears mostly ignorable now, but the scorching concerned gazes of his friends feel like cinders on his shoulder.
He straightens his tie, fingers curling when he feels the cold sweat penetrating through his clothes, but Kirishima doesn’t let it show. Smiling like he does, Kirishima pushed through his friends and followed Toshinori out the door.
They walked down towards the conference rooms, rooms that held their contractors, in complete silence.
“This is an important case,” Toshinori began, his voice gentle and poorly hiding his concern. “I chose you because you are a great asset to have, Kirishima. You are strong and smart, and most importantly, are personable.”
Kirishima looked at the man, his face contorting with his anxiety. He didn’t want to be treated like glass.
“Honestly, you being so personable is why I chose you for this assignment. Todoroki-shounen was a contender at first, but he’s not much of a talker; the same goes for Bakugou-shounen. Midoriya-shounen was probably the best choice, but there’s a new assignment that asked for three, so I gave up those three,” Toshinori explained the current assignments. It both delighted Kirishima to hear that he could keep up with arguably the three most qualified workers here as it did, at times, make him feel lesser.
“Oh.”
But he was obviously not the first choice still.
“The only reason why you weren’t the first choice is because of what I walked into just now,” Toshinori interrupts Kirishima’s thoughts and words. Kirishima finds his eyes tearing away from the smooth, polished wood floor to see Toshinori stopping in front of Conference Room A, his gaze intense on him. “To be frank, I wasn’t too sure if we should have hired you all that time ago. You are excellent on the field, your skills are phenomenal. Something to be proud of, truly, but you are clearly not completely healed from your time on the force.”
“Toshinori—”
“Kirishima-shonen, I’m not saying that there’s shame in your current struggles,” Toshinori once again interrupts, his hand a soothing warmth on Kirishima’s shoulder. “I’m still not healed from my past injuries, and as many people have undoubtedly told you, it’s okay to not be okay. But you barely passed the psych evaluation and only passed your field training because you scored so phenomenally on the other things your lack of a shooting score passed you.”
Kirishima felt unable to look away from the piercing blue eyes, and the lump in his throat never tasted as bitter, as sad.
He had barely passed the admittance test.
“I just need to know, are you ready to take on this assignment?” Toshinori asks in complete seriousness. “It’s a high stake, big-name client. We do not expect anything untoward to happen, but we never know in these cases. I think highly of you, Kirishima-shonen, and if you are ready to take this on, I’ll believe you, but likewise, if you’re not, I will gladly give this to someone else.”
Kirishima swallowed, his dry tongue passing through his equally dry lips.
Without question, he was not okay, not when he nearly broke down twice in a matter of hours, but it was just a bad day. He wasn’t as shaken as he was two months ago; he was going to his mandated therapy, talking to people who could assist him. Kirishima just didn’t want to be treated like glass anymore; he wasn’t glass; he was an unbreakable force.
Steeling over his nerves and ignoring how his stomach twisted and turned, Kirishima raised his gaze to Toshinori.
“I can do it.”
A smile.
“Good.”
If Kirishima was sweating because he was on a mental slip earlier, he was now sweating because he was beyond petrified and embarrassed. His hands raised up to brush against his red spikey hair, praying to God that it didn’t look dumb. His legs bounced at a speed that was bordering insanity, but he could only hear the sound of his racing heart as he stared at your frowning form from across the table.
It was you — the Y/n, the world's biggest music idol, an absolute legend in the making.
“This is our very own Kirishima Eijirou, age twenty-eight. He has been with U.A.Services for approximately six months now and is without a doubt one of our most capable and well-serviced men,” Toshinori began the introduction to the three people on the other side of the table. Kirishima could feel a blush rising up his neck and settling into his cheeks as what he presumed to be you, your manager, and your lawyer shuffling through paperwork that was very thorough on his background. “He was enlisted in the military before joining our ranks and was honorably discharged at the age of twenty-six as First Sergeant Kirishima Eijirou due to extreme injury. He excels in negotiating, scouting, and is, as you know, a skilled close combatant and was skilled in handguns—”
“I don’t think he’ll need firearms,” you interrupt, a frown on your face in contrast to the bright smile Kirishima was so used to seeing on your face. He tensed in worry.
“Y/l/n!” your manager, Sato Kimiko, scolded.
“What? It’s true! We’ll be around my fans for the majority, if not all the time! How is that right? For him to have a firearm around defenseless, and may I add, harmless individuals?!” you argued, your eyebrows scrunching in your fury.
Kirishima felt frozen in his chair, his eyes seeking Toshinori for guidance, but found himself unable to look away from you. He knew nearly everything about you, he could admit with a proud grin that he was a super mega fan of you, and he might have, at one point, looked your height up to imagine how you would appear beside him. Kirishima had known this entire time that you were two feet shorter than him, but it hadn’t hit what that meant until he was shaking your hand when he first entered.
You were tiny.
His dick and mind really liked that, and seeing your own passion spilling out for your fans was making him fall deeper into this hole he had for you.
“You don’t have a say anymore? Do you understand? You were nearly assaulted yesterday, and we are all done waiting around for something serious to happen!” Kimiko yelled, her face contorted into a look of both frustration and fear. “Either you take this, or we all leave you. I won’t have you murdered in front of me! You’re twenty-six now, stop acting like a damn brat and grow the hell up!”
The words scorched the table, blistering heat filling the conference room as you met Kimiko’s glare.
Kirishima watched with a dropped jaw as your nostrils flared, your lips pursing, and your eyebrows furrowing with unspoken distaste and anger.
“Six months tops.”
“Uh, yes,” Toshinori interjected. “Our contracts only last up to six months for new clients, but if you find yourself wanting to extend your contract after those six months, we are very much open to negotiations.”
You nodded your head, your eyes falling back onto the booklet in your hands that exposed all the information available on Kirishima. From his likes, dislikes, to his allergies and the reason why he was discharged. Each in disturbingly deep detail to make sure all things were up on the table.
“So, you can’t shoot your gun, Kirishima-san?” you speak, your voice tight, a pleased, almost taunting tone.
Kirishima stills, embarrassment bubbling in his chest as you drop the booklet onto the table, exposing his military history to him and you.
“...no,” Kirishima answers truthfully.
The lawyer shifts from the other side of you, his eyebrows scrunching as he too comes across that piece of information.
“He won’t use firearms?” the lawyer scoffs, his semi-permanent frown deepening. “How will we know that he will keep Y/n completely safe from any sort of danger that may come her way? We’ll be paying six months for a glorified security guard? We want a bodyguard.”
“And we clearly have one,” you snap back, your eyes narrowing. “If my bodyguard isn’t Kirishima-san, I’m not getting one. I mean, isn’t that what you said earlier?”
“When we were assuming that the person Toshinori was assigning to your case was a well-rounded bodyguard. Not one that was still clearly haunted by his past.”
Fuck, that one hurt.
You scowled, your head tilting as you bared your teeth slightly, “And what? He managed to get into the best agency in all of Japan in spite of that. Sounds like he’s competent. I already told you I won’t take on a team, just one individual. I trust in Toshinori-san’s guidance and his choice in picking Kirishima-san. If you disagree, that’s too bad for you.”
“Y/n! Please stop this! You’re being ridiculous!” Kimiko huffed, slamming her own booklet down, her eyes drowning with her exhaustion. “I’m so sorry, Toshinori-san, Kirishima-san.”
“H-Hey, it’s okay!” Kirishima immediately imputed, his hands raising in a sign of retreat. “I know that Y/n has always enjoyed her independence as a solo star, and how me being involved now is imposing, especially after multiple attacks.”
Kirishima felt that his smile was a bit strained, a bit too forced, especially as your eyes hawked onto him. He felt like you were examining him, like a lab rat going through its initial trial and not knowing just what was to be expected.
“Six months?” you spoke, your gaze not leaving Kirishima’s own.
“Six months,” Kirishima agreed.
You hum, your head nodding. “Fine, six months tops unless the Lieutenant Colonel can apprehend these assholes faster.”
It had been ages since Kirishima had been called by his title, and for some reason, he found himself blushing. His mouth, for the first time this entire meeting, curled into a wolfish grin.
“You got it.”
The lawyer groaned, entirely aggravated and insulted. He stood up, “You’re asking to be murdered, Y/n. Don’t come haunting me when you end up dead and mutilated. You deserve all the shit you’re getting.”
Kirishima watched with his lips parted in a bewildered expression as the lawyer walked out of the room with a loud slam of the door.
You were unfazed, and Kimiko groaned, exhausted and embarrassed as she mumbled a weak, sullen, “I am so, so sorry, Toshinori-kun.”
“Ah, Kimiko-chan, it’s okay!” Toshinori shook his head and smiled knowingly. It wasn’t as if the long time famous bodyguard hadn’t seen his fair share of childish fights between clients. “Thank you for coming as always, and we’ll do our best to make sure that Y/n is in the best of hands.”
“Thank you… and so, the rest of the contract?”
“Ah, yes, let’s continue.”
So, the contract was discussed to full detail.
For six months, Kirishima would be attached to your side. He must always remain at most three meters away from you when there is no one around, and during fan interactions no more than one meter. He had a full say about your safety. If things got rough, you were to follow his every command. Your agency would pay for his room and lodging. He was to wear black pants and a black long-sleeved cotton tee. He would be working with every venue, every hotel, every conventions security team. He would lead them and never leave your side. He was to be awake an hour before you, rest when you were asleep so long as it was safe to do so. He was your guardian angel of sorts, and you would do nothing but adhere to him.
Most importantly, according to Kimiko, there was one thing they were hoping for: Kirishima's help and discretion. For the next six months, they would be relying on Kirishima’s support to figure out who the group behind the assault was and who the mastermind was behind it all is.
Or so the contract said.
“Y/n!” Kirishima called when the papers were signed, and the day he was set to start was printed. He will begin tomorrow. “Wait!”
You stopped at the door, Kimiko and Toshinori chatting merrily between them as they exited the conference room, Toshinori’s booming voice asking if it was true that Kimiko was attending to a near forty clients to which she bashfully admitted to. You were dressed in a creme knit long-sleeved shirt, faded ripped jeans, and a pair of nude heels. The heels were big, undoubtedly giving you inches, but you still barely got to his shoulder.
“I-I’m looking forward to looking — I mean working with you!”
You looked at him closely, your eyes dragging to the top of his toes to the tallest spike in his hair before your lips pulled into a contemplative pout. You looked back to his eyes, and you steeled over, your head tilting to the side.
“I mean no offense, Sergeant, I thank you for doing your job, but I have no intention of looking forward to working with you. I don’t want you here, so do your best to ignore the contract and realize that I am the most important person, so you will follow my demands.”
Kirishima can do nothing but stare as you turn on your heel and leave.
Well, so much for a good case.
Date: 5/2
Time: 14:00
Location: Tokyo Music Stadium
If you would have told Kirishima Eijirou that he had been working for the grand, the perfect, the fantastic music idol Y/n for a month now, two months ago, he would have laughed so hard he’d cry. Not only would he have not believed it, but he would only think of a million and two scenarios where he would go the entire day flirting.
Now a month into knowing you, of being your bodyguard on a contract for six months, Kirishima could say that of that entire thought, the only thing he had been right about was that he was, in fact, crying. Not only has he never managed to speak an entire conversation with you despite being attached to your hip seven days a week, but despite your much shorter stature, you had managed to get away from him.
You always managed to sneak away from him.
Kirishima could admit that the no more than five meters rule had been wholly and utterly demolished.
And now, Kirishima was crying, not out of joy, but of pure manly fear as he raced through the backstages of the stadium, desperate to find your short-ass anywhere.
“Go, Kirishima!” someone yelled as Kirishima whizzed past him, “Find Y/n!”
“T-Thank you!” Kirishima screamed as he continued onward, the yellow-lit concrete hallway seemingly haunting the further he went into it. The earpiece in his left ear shrilled, the telling sign he was getting a call. Putting a finger to the circle in his ear, he answered the car. “Hello?!”
“Ah, Kirishima-san!” Kimiko’s voice chirped on the other side of the line. “Wonderful to hear your voice again! I’m calling to let you know that the tour bus is parked outside of the venue now. The concert was a smashing success, and she’s come out unharmed for the past month! To make matters even better, since your arrival, there have been no more assault attempts! Oh, um, sorry, where are you guys?”
“We’re just, um!” Kirishima tried not to pant into the microphone; he was still racing ahead, his head peeking into every door and room he passed. “Y/n needed to use the restroom?!”
“Oh, wonderful. Okay! Let me know when you two are on your way over!”
“Ya, okay, bye!”
“By—”
Kirishima hung up as he crashed through the doors at the end of the hallway.
It was night out right now, the full moon reflecting down on the dirty concrete with the same intensity as the streetlamps overhead. And in the middle of a crowd of around twenty people was the person Kirishima was trying to find: you.
You were still dressed in the final costume change of your concert. Even from a distance, Kirishima could see the glitter and highlight on the tip of your nose and the curve of your cheekbones. The crowd around you was clearly not hostile. Each face was bright with broad smiles and sparkling with fresh tears, each voice high and pitchy as if they were talking with some goddess and not you.
There was a slight longing in Kirishima’s chest at the sight of you interacting with your fans, your smile was so beautiful, and he wished just for a moment that he was the one that it was directed towards. If he had met you as a fan, and only a fan, he wonders if you would look at him as you did the others. Would he see the pure joy in the depths in your eyes, the love, wonder, and pride as they asked you questions and answered your own?
He wanted to be just a fan.
“Y/n, the tour bus is here,” Kirishima finally found his voice, the tenor of his voice spreading through the narrow alleyway. “Say your goodbyes.”
He had to ignore the way you stiffened immediately, the unsolicited joy in your face breaking and becoming bleak as you met his gaze. Kirishima absolutely did not feel pressure behind his eyes when you rolled your eyes and began to say your goodbyes; he did not!
The group of fans waved goodbye as you walked backward toward Kirishima; you didn’t stop waving and continuing your parting conversations with the group until the metal doors of the stadium doors closed behind the two of you. Kirishima let out a sigh, his eyes closing for a brief moment before looking down at you. You were expressionless, eyes cold as you looked dead ahead.
“You’re not supposed to run away like that.”
“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t tell me what to do, Sergeant.”
“You know I can’t do that it’s not—”
“Part of your contract. Yeah, I know, but that’s your contract, not mine.”
“Oh, okay. Um, Kimiko? ...yeah, we’re heading out now. Five minutes, till.”
And then there’s only silence.
Neither Kirishima nor you bother talking the entire walk towards the tour bus, and you ignore Kimiko’s call that your lawyer would be meeting briefly before tomorrow's fan signing event. You walk into the bus and go directly to the beds, throwing yourself into the terribly padded bunk and passing out without so much as a sound.
Kirishima sinks into his own bed, it’s too small for him, but there’s nothing he can do about it. Sleep overcomes him easily these days; he’s always way too exhausted in chasing you down like some spoiled toddler you’re behaving like to dream. But that’s okay, he thinks as the comfort of sleep begins to dig its skeleton fingers into his side, at least the exhaustion stops the night terrors.
Date: 5/3
Time: 10:00
Location: Tokyo Music Tower
Now, Kirishima knew that it was a common belief and a nearly proven theory that when you met your idols, you should never ever have your expectations high on who they are as a person. Celebrities were out of touch, cruel, rude, nearly jaded. They weren’t exactly the common folk. With people willing to forget things like them being human beings themselves or the common thread of celebrities being too rich to care, any type of famous person was cold, rude, and ruthless.
He knew that.
He also knew that you weren’t like the nearly proven theory.
You were kind, sweet, a practical angel to anyone who dared to approach you. You were the exception to the rule, an outlier to them all. You spoke politely to all your fans, domestic and foreign, and you treated each fan like the most special person in the world.
You were a good person.
But Kirishima knew, just as you reacted to any cruel person you encountered, you had an edge. Your words were as vicious as your name was known. He genuinely enjoyed watching you put assholes into place, but he sulked, knowing he was always at the receiving end of the sharp, bitter tongue of yours.
For a month and a day now, he had been the number target of your bitter words and scorching hate, but he admitted that he enjoyed it when it wasn’t directed at him, if but a little bit.
“I’m not renegotiating my contract!” you groan, your palms slamming into the depths of your eyes. “I already told you that I don’t need all that money!”
“And I’m telling you that you need to increase the wages that you pay the rest of your team instead of all those charities or else people will begin dropping you!” the lawyer countered with similar fire, his scowl angry enough that Kirishima felt like he had to tear his gaze away from this horrible battle. “You won’t be the best of the best forever, y/n, get over your stupid savior act and look over the changes!”
Kirishima looked over at you, his eyebrows pinching as he watched you fold your arms, your cheeks pushed out to a puff as you looked at the stack of papers with the title page fully covered with the word Contract of Y/n and Co. on it. Well, it seemed that the rumor of you spending your paycheck on things that weren’t you was right, how entirely manly.
“Oh fuck off,” you growl, pushing out of the chair and storming away.
Kirishima glanced over at Kimiko, who was looking pale and exhausted, undoubtedly exhausted from the past thirty-minute battle between the lawyer and the idol that neither made a single step forward nor a step back. How you had the energy to fight so passionately was beyond him. Kimiko nodded minimally, her lips parting in a sigh as Kirishima stood up and followed after her.
“The only way that brat is going to listen is by force,” the lawyer sneered, his voice fading into the room that Kirishima exited. “If that’s how she wants to play, so be it.”
Fortunately for Kirishima, he catches up to you. There are tears of fury dripping down your cheeks, and he feels unable to speak as he discovers a new layer to you.
...how interesting.
“It’s my money,” you speak, but Kirishima is unsure if those words are meant for him or for the void, the earth that you would much rather converse with than him. “I already pay them all a much greater paycheck than they should be getting considering their client pool. Why do I have to bend to their stupid will when I’m the one making the money.”
Kirishima blinks, wondering just what people might want to raise with their contracts. But, he knew you were right. By her account, Kimiko had a client list of many successful individuals, and he may not know anything about the lawyer, but if he worked with Y/n, his name must be good. Guess they weren’t like you.
“People are selfish assholes,” was the only thing that Kirishima could think of, and was something he spoke before he could stop himself.
But you stop in your storm, the anger that clouded you somewhat dissipating, clearing just enough for you to turn to him, your sharp, beautiful eyes for the first time filled with rage that was not pointed at him, and an emotion that made him think of… amusement?
“Yeah,” you agree, a half-smile cracking onto your face, and Kirishima feels his soul begin leaving his very body. “People are selfish assholes, huh?”
“Very much.”
There’s a calm, a snorted chuckle, and Kirishima finds himself stumbling further into the abyss of his feelings for you.
The next ten hours seem to pass in a blur, Kirishima feeling like he was on Cloud Nine as he stood behind you, three meters as he watched fan after fan approach you. Signatures were made, pictures were taken, and Kirishima found that he never once had to approach.
Maybe, he thinks, just perhaps, the two of you can overcome this.
Ten minutes after the official signing is done, Kirishima can’t find you, and he curses loudly into the echoing floor.
So much for change.
Date: 5/17
Time: 23:00
Location: The Parking Lot - Mt. Lady Studios
Kirishima was, for the lack of better words, completely fucking done with you.
Don’t get it wrong, he still was a complete and massive fan of yours. He would never once betray his loyalty to you and your musical career, but he was slowly starting to realize just why the lawyer was set to dying of a heart attack any time soon. Despite your early entrance to stardom and the stuff of legends, you had kept your fiery, stubborn individualism.
Kirishima thought it was absolutely hot and sexy at times, especially the times where you strut around in revealing clothes because ‘this is your body,’ or the lingerie campaign you completed two days ago as part of some fundraising event. There were significant perks to your strong handle and claim to keeping your indestructible personality, but it came back to rub them all back in the worst of ways when once again, you escaped from Kirishima’s side.
To be fair, most of the time, Kirishima was a very level headed individual; he was near impossible to rile up despite popular initial belief. I mean, he was good friends with Bakugou Katsuki, who riled up just about anyone he talked to! He needed to have steel calm emotions, or at the very least portray that he does. But even the unbreakable after tireless attempts can, at times, be broken.
It had been a hard morning.
Kirishima had woken up in a panic, the sweat of his night terror soaking through the sheets of his bed, and his head felt like lead. They had been in the tour bus for the entire day because you were going from the tip of Japan to the bottom of it, thus meaning that you couldn’t run away from him, concluding that when he went to bed that night, he was merely tired, not exhausted.
“K...Kiri...shima?” the voice whispered in his ears when he bolted from his bed and tumbled to the ground, his chest heaving in his panic as he cried.
He only slept for four hours that night, the ghost of his comrade haunting him too much for him to ever drift back to sleep. The only thing he was grateful for when he stumbled down to the hotel lobby for breakfast was that he had an attack while in his own room and not in a tour bus with ten others.
But the lack of sleep and the twisting of his guts from his still unburied memories meant that his exhaustion was dialed up larger than he thought was capable. Today was an interview day plus a miniconcert at said interview.
That meant that for an hour before your interview and two hours afterward, Kirishima lost you and had to hunt you down. You weren’t making it easy on him and had started moving with the crowd you gathered to evade him.
But today, Kirishima was exhausted.
Today, Kirishima wanted to sleep.
Today… Kirishima broke.
“Let’s go,” Kirishima spoke in a low, commanding voice. His eyes were hooded as he looked down at you, the crowd of fans parting like the red sea as he stands behind you, larger than life, imposing.
You ignore him.
“We’re leaving, now.”
“Aw, did you make that just for me?! This beading is gorgeous!”
To be fair, Kirishima isn’t really sure if he’s crying right now or if steam is protruding from his ears like some stupid cartoon. The only thing he knows is that it's been a bit longer than a month, and his client is the most perfect person in the world except to him and some lawyer. All he knows is that he has been continuously mocked, shamed, and disrespected by his client, and at this moment, with his mind and body aching with the memories of the morning, he can no longer stop the tsunami of emotions and thoughts that shove out of him.
He grabs your wrist and begins pulling you away.
“We’re leaving now, sorry to disrupt your time. Come see Y/n another day.”
Kirishima isn’t even aware of your screams, the banging of your small fist against his back as his hand encompasses your bicep easily. He walks and walks and walks until he stops, his mind slightly put back into place.
“—FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM?! LET GO OF ME, SERGEANT!”
Oh, right.
He lets go of you immediately and nearly snorts at how you stumble into his back. So small, so delicate, and so completely weak.
“You want to know my problem, y/l/n?” he asks, voice eerily calm, much calmer than he actually is. “My fucking problem is that I signed onto this case with a single rule: keep you in sight and protect you. It’s simple, almost too easy, isn’t it? But easy and simple is everything that this assignment is!”
Your face contorted into a flash of anger and embarrassment, your nose scrunching as you found your footing, “And I told you that I don’t give a crap about that contract! I didn’t want it in the first place, but no one listens to me!”
Kirishima snorts, his body shifting so that he can look at you properly; your face is seething, your teeth bared and eyes wild, but Kirishima has faced worse.
“It’s not in my contract to listen to you, unfortunately,” Kirishima points out, his eyes narrowing. “I would have a better time listening to you, trying to find an agreement that worked if you used that brain of yours and figured out a way to compromise with me.”
“Compromises aren’t—”
“You think I wouldn’t?” Kirishima almost whines, his voice tight with emotions, fingers fisting in his hair, “You really fucking think that after a month and how many days of me spending stupid hours trying to find your ass, most of the time never knowing if you’re dead or not, I wouldn’t want a better solution?!”
“Like hell they’ll kill me! And if they do, I don’t fucking care!” you stubbornly insist, finger buried against the swell of your chest.
“Oh my god,” Kirishima can’t stop the bitter laugh from escaping, “you’re ridiculous.”
“I’m ridiculous?! I’m not the ridiculous one here!” you cry, your eyes bursting with unshed, bitter tears. “So what that I run away from you? Can you imagine living the past ten years of your life trying to be something that the media wants you to be? No! You can’t, Sergeant! Those times where I’m running away isn’t to be some dick, but to give me time to be me!”
“You’re a goddamn idiot!” Kirishima barks, his anger curdling in his chest like a raging fire. “If you had looked at my damn file correctly, instead of focusing on the stupid shit like me not being able to fire my gun correctly, you would be more than aware of the fact that you are one of my favorite artists!”
“Wh-”
“I am one of the best in my company! I am easy to get along with, personal, manageable, flexible even, but from the very first moment you laid eyes on me, you’ve hated me! You talk down on me, you shit on me, my job, the reason I’m here! Listen, I would fucking love to be anywhere but here right now. I have literally never hated my job before, but you just made that a reality. But the worst part of this all is the fact that you seem to think I would have kept you away, prohibited you from doing things that I already know you love! You stand there and tell me that I would try to force you to do shit you don’t want when I have merely been asking for you to take me there with you! I don’t care if I have to stand away and watch, but I want to be there! I’m supposed to be protecting you, but you’re being nothing more than a stubborn brat who refuses to see the efforts I’m trying to make, and frankly, I’m done.”
Kirishima’s chest is burning with the lack of oxygen, his eyes narrowed and filled with raging fire as he stares down at you, his neck craned so that he could be closer, more daunting, intimidating.
“Fuck o-off,” you snap suddenly, a lone tear, your voice tight and shoulders tense as you storm off.
“So predictable,” Kirishima calls after you, but it’s not filled with the previous anger he had but the sinking misery and regret.
And for a moment, it’s quiet.
Until a single name is screamed.
“SERGEANT!”
And then the all too familiar sound of a fist colliding with skin.
The anger in Kirishima’s blood evaporates immediately, and horror sinks in as he turns towards where you had stormed off. Oh no, oh no, oh no.
The parking lot is filled with an ugly yellow light that seems to set the stage for what was to come down. His footsteps crashing down against the black pavement were mute in his ears, and his eyes were focused on your limp body slung over somebody's shoulder. There was one person behind him, the other one already hopping into a van; Kirishima was the devil on their heels.
“Come on! Let’s go!” the one in the van screamed, his voice full of gruff apprehension and fear.
The van turns on.
Kirishima grunts, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he sidesteps the man who was lingering behind the one carrying you and quickly slams his shoulder into the man's sternum, knocking him out the moment he collapses onto the ground.
He lets out a roar of such, his eyes glowing with anger and a single mind track to take down the person who held you, ready to throw your unconscious body into the back of the van.
Kirishima doesn’t even know when he manages to get to the man's side, one hand on his shoulder, the other on you, and with the strength and anger of a million fighting warriors, he ripped you from his hold and sent him stumbling into the trunk. Your shallow breathing brushes against his neck, and Kirishima is hyper-aware of the cursing men who chose to abandon their unconscious comrade on the floor.
With his arms filled by your unconscious body, Kirishima can only watch the van scurry out of the lot, the license plate immediately burning into his mind.
T082-23
When the man on the floor finally wakes up, he’s in police custody, and you’re just waking up. There's a bruise on your cheek, and you begin crying immediately.
Kirishima watches from the distance, his heart aching and guilt climbing up his throat as he watches Kimiko hold you close, her arms warm and tight.
Well, shit.
So much for the month of no attacks.
Kirishima sits in a waiting room, his head relaxed against the wall as he waits for your discharge from the hospital. They suspect a concussion, and they’re running some tests right now. The police are there too, trying to get information from you on the failed kidnapping attempt as well as beginning the initial trials of interrogation of the abandoned kidnapper with a broken sternum, ruptured spleen, and three cracked ribs.
He was not surprised when the police officers came to talk to him, and he gave them the license plate.
But they also gave him an essential piece of information.
(“Well, when we asked for a motive, it seemed that it wasn’t his idea,” the detective admitted, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “His boss said that, and I quote, Y/n will end up dead and mutilated as is deserved. She deserves all the shit she has coming her way, end quote. Any ideas of who it could be”
Kirishima rubbed a hand across his face, the words striking a bit too familiarly to him, but from where. He shook his head, his eyes focusing on his bouncing knee.
“Thank you,” Kirishima said, his tone pointed in a clear indicator that this conversation was now over. The detective nodded, his frown slight as he left. The moment he was gone, Kirishima pulled out his phone and dialed a number. “Kimiko? Yeah, I think we might have our first suspect.”)
For now, he was waiting for you.
An hour passed before you shuffled into the waiting room. There was a bandage on your swollen cheek, but besides the obvious attack, your eyes looked strong, and it seemed like there was no concussion.
“I should be fine,” you speak first, your jaw tensing as if it physically pained you to speak (whether it was because you hated talking to him or because of the injury, Kirishima had no idea). “I will be fine; I just need some sleep.”
Kirishima nodded, his body completely exhausted, and his mind filled with nothing but regrets on how he handled his anger earlier. He needed to apologize. He wasn’t entirely wrong, but he had definitely crossed a few too many lines.
“Should we go?”
You chewed on your lip, your eyes looking down at the white tiled floors of the hospital — so bleak, so anxiety driving.
“I actually wanted to talk before we left.”
Oh?
“Of what, if I may ask?”
Your eyes raise back up before looking away again, “the contract.”
Kirishima finds himself nodding, his hand gesturing towards the empty seat in front of him.
“Sure.”
And with a heaving sigh that sounds like you were on the verge of tears, you sit before him.
The contract was then discussed.
It was decided that you could continue to interact with fans as you wish, so long as you took Kirishima with you. He didn’t care about the long hours, the manic fans, or the impending doom of a group of people who meant business. He needed to be there.
Everything else stayed the same, but Kirishima looked at you one last time that night in the hospital, his body leaning towards you as he did his best to keep his face void of emotion and any lingering teasing.
“I’ll only accept this new negotiation on one term.”
“W-What?!” you pause, thinking. “Fine, say it.”
“From here on out, I think we should be friends, yeah? I’m on your side, after all, it’s a bit weird if we stay just acquaintances.”
The tension and horror leave your body, and Kirishima, for the first time ever, bears witness to the most relaxed, meaningful smile he has ever seen you give. It had been one hell of a shitty night, but at that very moment when the seventh turned into the eighth, Kirishima felt a new warmth flood through his chest, his heart racing at the sight of your glorious smile.
“Of course, Kirishima.”
“Oh, and y/n?”
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry about all that I said. It was unmanly of me and out of line.”
“It’s okay. To be fair, I was a bit of a self-absorbed brat, too.”
The next day, a picture of Kirishima holding you bridal style is trending.
Date: 6/12
Time: 19:00
Location: Hime Onsen
An Interview with Y/n | Vogue Japan
4.5 million views • Premiered 2 hours ago
874k [liked this] 12.3k [disliked this]
Timestamp: 05:32 / 10:33
[Interviewer]: Now, Y/n, we must congratulate you on your latest achievement! Your latest self-titled album, ‘Y/N,’ has been nominated for a record high of twelve awards for the upcoming Japan Record Awards, which will be coming up in about a month! Tell us how you feel about this?
[You]: It was quite a surprise actually! I didn’t realize that it would have done so well in the critic's eyes to get this type of award. I am proud of myself and am excited to see all the other amazing artists and musicians who were nominated as well.
[Interviewer]: Now, your album is all about staying true to yourself, whether that be in love or war. It depicts your own highs and lows while also highlighting beautifully universal things many of us face. Without question, you have always been adamant on staying connected with your fans and keeping a simple rule: no bodyguards.
[Y/n]: Oh, (laughs) yes! That is definitely a new thing, huh?
[Interviewer]: A new thing and a beautiful thing at that, too! Look here!
[captioner notes: interviewer displays many photos of Y/n’s bodyguard, including the most famous one where he’s holding y/n after the failed kidnapped attempt]
[Interviewer]: This is a beautiful — don’t giggle! — a beautiful man, Y/n! What do you have to say for yourself?! Did you finally succumb to keeping untrue to yourself for this beautiful man?! If so, it is perfectly acceptable. By chance, is your contract with him done? I would personally love to have this man on my team.
[Y/n]: (laughing) By all means, take him! (Y/n looks behind her, her bodyguard is there) I’m kidding, I’m kidding! (pauses) No, actually, sorry. Kirishima is an outstanding bodyguard, and I have no intentions of leaving him so soon. Uh, while I did say I had no wish or intentions to have a bodyguard, obviously that was not the best solution, so I hired Kirishima. He is a wonderful addition to my team and still allows me to be authentically me, so it’s still all good.
[Interviewer]: Ah, okay, well, Kirishima-kun, if you ever need a new client, call me. But moving on, yes! Would you like to discuss the series of increasingly concerning attacks?
Kirishima stood in the softly lit hallways of a sauna.
Today was one of the last remaining days you had off, and in celebration of your upcoming award season, you had decided that it was mandatory to visit the hot springs. Everyone on your team — the backup dancers, band, and hair and makeup — were ecstatic to learn that they were being involved with it too.
This high-end resort had accommodated your entire team to receive their own private spring with an all-inclusive menu too.
It was thanks from the owner for the free PR and, of course, because they were some of your biggest fans. So, in thanks, everyone got to enjoy the springs.
Well, everyone but Kirishima, that was.
As of the past month, things between Kirishima and you had improved a lot.
With Kirishima no longer needing to run a marathon daily to find where you were, he would find himself walking at your side. He no longer felt like you hated him. There was respect and actual friendship between the two of you. You joked with him, showed him memes and TikTok, sent him snapchat streaks, and invited him to watch weird shows with you. You even complained to him about the things that annoyed you, namely Kimiko’s attention being stolen by other clients and the rude conversations you would have with the lawyer.
It made Kirishima’s chest warm up knowing that you were friends now.
A stressful month had passed into a friendlier one.
But there were some things that Kirishima would not have expected to… arise.
Namely you growing to be comfortable enough to walk around with nothing but a thin pair of panties and a large shirt. You curling into his side whenever you watched a show together in the bus, the way your lips brushed against his neck when he leaned down to hug you, or the very so not obvious teasing you would do when you changed in front of him. It was as if you were watching his every reaction, enjoying the way that his eyes horribly tore away, or the silent hitch in his throat whenever you speed his heart up.
The biggest surprise arose the night after the failed kidnapping attempt:
You had come to his room, hours after you were supposed to have fallen asleep.
Your eyes were sunken, still a bit tired, and the bruise on your cheek was looking bad. In your arms was a white binder undoubtedly filled with the introductory packet you had received at your initial meeting. Kirishima had opened the door in his sleepy state in nothing but gym shorts. He had barely started dozing off, his mind wouldn’t stop thinking of what could have happened if you hadn’t managed to scream, and so he kept tossing and turning.
Seeing you outside of his room, his head dropped down to look at you properly, and his fist rubbing at his eye fell, “Y/n?”
“Did I wake you?” you asked, your face filled with a shocked, near uncomfortable, and embarrassed expression he doesn’t recall ever seeing on you. “I’m so sorry! I’ll wait until—”
“No,” Kirishima grunts while he shakes his head, his voice raspy and dry from his lack of use. “I’ve been tossing and turning, um, what is it? Do you want to come in?”
“I-If that’s okay?”
Kirishima breathes out a bit, his shoulders relaxing as he smiles softly, “Come on, let’s talk about what’s on your mind.”
The door clicked behind your tentative steps with an echo, and Kirishima watched as you walked into the hotel room with wariness and caution.
“Would you like some tea?” Kirishima offered, picking up a shirt from his dresser and pulling it over his body. The fabric was tight against his chest and shoulders, but felt more appropriate to wear around you.
“No, I’m okay,” you politely decline.
You stood in the center of the room, unsure of where to sit, stand, or lay.
“Go ahead and make the bed,” Kirishima offered, taking the chair by the desk. “I promise it’s still clean.”
You laugh slightly, smile strained but grateful as you sit at the edge of the bed, binder resting on your lap.
“Thanks, I wouldn’t want to sit on a dirty bed,” you joke, but it sounds weak to Kirishima’s ears.
“So, what questions do you have?”
“Hm?”
“You have my portfolio,” he shrugs, leaning forward so that his forearms rest on his knees. “I have a feeling you have some questions.”
“Oh, right,” you whisper, your eyebrows scrunching as you open the binder to the first page, but your eyes are focused on the desk. “What’s the medication for?”
Kirishima turns his head to follow your gaze and comes across the yellow tinted medicine containers.
“My PTSD,” Kirishima answers honestly, his voice soft with emotion, but there was no shame in it. “My service had a difficult end.”
“That’s actually… that’s what I came to talk about,” you rush, your hands slamming the binder closed. “If you don’t want to talk about it, obviously I won’t push it! God, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have—”
“No, it’s okay,” Kirishima interrupted, his smile sad, but he stood up, his body a tower in front of yours as he urged you to sit back down. “It’s okay; I don’t mind talking about it.”
“B-But what if I say something that makes it all worse?”
A pause.
“Then I’ll tell you that it’s too much.”
A nod.
“Are you… are you still experiencing a lot of symptoms?” you ask, your fingers tightening and untightening around the binder.
“Some days are worse than others,” Kirishima admits, his shoulders shrugging. “I don’t experience much anxiety while in crowds anymore; I don’t have many flashbacks to those days anymore, not since February at least. I do still get… I still get night terrors and dream of that day. It’s nowhere near as bad as the first few months after the accident, but it’s still here.”
“What happened?” you asked after a bit, morbidly curious.
The file had all the details that proved Kirishima to be a master of firearms during his entire time on the force. He was a powerful combatist, and his ranking was a clear indicator of the respect and skills he had. Still, it was the quick honorable discharge, the near year-long hospitalization, and the current inability to use a firearm that concerned you.
What had happened?
“I was involved in a grenade explosion on my last day on tour. I was the only one who managed to survive the blast,” Kirishima easily stated, his voice quiet.
“Oh my god, I… holy shit, I’m so sorry.”
“Nah, it’s all good. There were only two others around, and one of them was already dead.”
“Was that um, Major—”
“We called him Crimson Riot, actually,” Kirishima smiled, a chuckle light on his tongue as he leaned back onto the chair, nodding. “Yeah, that was him.”
“Crimson Riot,” you repeat, nodding. “Did you watch him… watch him die?”
Kirishima presses his lips tightly together, and for a moment, you’re unsure if he’s going to cry, answer you, or tell you to leave. There’s a whirlwind of emotions on your optimistic and typically jubilant bodyguard despite your asshole tendencies that make your stomach twist.
“Yes,” Kirishima finally answers, and you nod.
It’s hours into the morning before you finally depart back to your room, the horrors of Kirishima’s past still pounding into your ears. Kirishima wouldn’t notice, and neither would you, but on his shirt and yours, there’s a few drops of tears the both of you shed when you said goodnight.
Sergeant Kirishima Eijirou, while on an active warzone, had accidentally struck and killed his superior officer, his friend, his role model Crimson Riot, thinking that he was nothing more than an enemy target as he sat wounded behind a wall. He died on his lap, and as someone came to help, a grenade landed two meters away before detonating.
“K...Kiri...shima?” Crimson Riot had whispered as he fell to his knees, blood gushing and seeping through his clothes, spilling onto Kirishima’s lap. “I’ll be okay.”
For whatever reason, since that night, Kirishima felt something in him shift. He still took his medication, still had his virtual therapy sessions when he could fit them in, and even had painful night terrors of that moment, but it was becoming less frequent.
He wasn’t made of glass.
There had been more instances after the kidnapping attempt, but unlike the last times, Kirishima was prepared. He had stopped each one, keeping you safe and sound. As of one week ago, he had officially been given a firearm to keep strapped to his thigh at all times now.
It was an unfamiliar weight, one that still twisted his stomach and made him nervous, but he knew the reason why it was needed. Since the gun had been added to his gear, the attacks stopped. He was definitely not ready to be firing it anytime soon, but it had deterred the attackers for the time being.
Kirishima paused when he heard his earpiece ring, and he dropped his phone where he had been watching your interview despite being there himself.
“Talk to me,” Kirishima answered, his finger pressing the accept button.
“Kirishima!” came the distressed voice of Kimiko, “We just got a tip!”
Kirishima stilled, his eyes scanning the empty hallways that stretched throughout the private hot springs.
“I don’t know, but a person with connections with this mastermind said something about how there were two more events he was staging. Today is one of them!”
Kirishima’s eyes widened, his lips parting to answer Kimiko when instead there was a large, loud crash in the water from inside your room. He assumed the worst.
“Y/n!” Kirishima shouted, hands throwing open the sliding door and racing through the storage room, the shower, and exited out into the hot spring.
Steam curled through the wind, the white wisps of steam feeling warm and light against Kirishima’s skin, and Kirishima panicked when he couldn’t see your shadow or figure in the hot springs.
“Where is she?! Is she alright?!” Kimiko panicked, her voice panicking already. “I’ll call the—”
Kirishima turned on his heel, ready to complete a full sweep of the outdoor hot spring when he crashed into something smaller than he was… smaller, softer, and definitely the shape of a woman. Kirishima felt his entire body stiffen when his rough palms felt the undeniable feeling of wet, warm skin.
“Oh my god,” he heard you shriek. “KIRISHIMA!”
“She’s all good, Kimiko,” Kirishima stifled out, his voice tight, his head slamming backward so that his eyes were concentrated on the starry night sky.
“...sorry… uh aha! Another client of mine is calling, goodbye!” Kimiko’s apology was meek and small before she hung up.
Kirishima’s mind was racing a mile a minute, but his body was frozen, unmoving like a rock when he realized that pressing to his stomach was, without a doubt, your breasts.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“What are you doing in here, pervert?!” you splutter, your hands pressing to his stomach as you step away. “Are you a pervert or something?!”
“I, no! No! Of course not! Fuck, shit, I’m so sorry! I’ll go! There was a tip that something was going to happen right now, and there was a crash and—”
“What are you looking at?” you exclaim, squeaky frustration heavy on your tongue. “There’s nothing wrong with the sky! Look me in the eyes? Have you never been to a co-ed hot spring before?!”
“Y-Yes, sorry!” Kirishima apologized, bowing slightly in apology before he peered down. Still, his face bursted in a flame as he watched the way your jaw dropped in disbelief, the dewy wetness of the hot spring clinging to your body. You were, obviously, soaked, and Kirishima bit his tongue as hard as he could to keep the whimper from expelling past his lips when he saw the light gleaming off your breasts. But he watched your face shift between a million emotions, each one appearing too fast for him to read, too fast to register, but he saw the way a single-arm wrap around your breast and the other shoving into his stomach.
“PERVERT!”
“What?!”
“That was a test! This is my private room! I have the right to not be willing to be looked at right now!” you shrieked as Kirishima spun around, allowing you the complete privacy of his gaze.
“You told me to look at you!” he squawked. “Y-You told me, and I listened because of our contract!”
Kirishima could feel his body trembling, his mind reeling in disbelief that he definitely saw you in your entire nakedness, and if the swirling heat in his stomach had anything to say about it, he liked it. Fuck.
There was a soft laugh and the sound of sloshing water as you probably (he wouldn’t know because he wasn’t looking) reentered the spring.
“I know, I was teasing,” you sing, and he can tell the water is gliding around your body. “Turn around, Kiri, let’s talk.”
“Haha, um, I’m not sure if that’s a good idea,” Kirishima admits, although sitting in this steam-filled space with just you sounds so very nice.
“Why not?” you asked, voice sounding a bit upset.
“I’m supposed to be outside, doing my job?”
“Augh, but these private springs are so boring alone,” your voice whines; the water sloshes, and Kirishima winces at the slight throb on his tongue as he continues to look at not your direction. “Turn around, Kiri.”
Not too long ago, you had taken to calling him Kiri, a subtle change, a not unusual nickname people gave him. But just because it was you, his stomach flipped and twisted, and now with the image of your tits in mind, his dick throbbed.
Gulping, Kirishima turned, his gaze bashfully looking down at you before glancing away. You were chest-deep in the hot springs, tendrils of your wet hair sticking to your neck. Was he dead? Maybe dreaming?
No, his dreams were never like this.
“Do you want to come in?” you continued to ask, your body moving towards him in the water until you reached the edge of the pool, arms testing into the black rocks. “You’re the only one not in one, and since I hate being in these alone, I figured you’d like to join.”
Kirishima wanted to join. More than anything, he wanted to take his clothes off and jump into the springs with you, for you, but that would be unprofessional. Entirely and utterly unprofessional.
“Please?” you ask softly, pleadingly, and Kirishima makes the mistake of locking his gaze with yours.
“...fine, but I’ll be on the other side of the spring,” he concedes, his steps near clumsy and oafish as he stumbles backward to the shower and closet.
“Such a gentleman pervert,” you tease, fingers curling as you wave at him until Kirishima finally closes the door behind him.
The empty room is nearly deafening in its silence and the future as Kirishima slumps against the sliding door, excited apprehension rippling through every cell of his skin as a smile spreads across his face. He walks to the storage room, and despite it being a private room, there were two closets. The closet not already occupying your clothes had the things needed for him, and thankfully, it fit.
He undressed slowly, folding his clothes and placing them into the cubbies. Fully naked, he approached the showers, and under the lukewarm showerhead, he cleaned his body of any grime, dirt, and sweat.
Feeling refreshed and clean, Kirishima began his descent to the hot spring, his heart hammering when his fingers grabbed the handle of the door.
“I’m coming in,” he announced, a healthy amount of fear, excitement, and heat drumming through him.
“I’ll keep my virgin eyes away from your body, don’t worry,” came your slow tease, and Kirishima snorted softly.
Kirishima stepped back out to the hot spring.
Just like the first time, the entrance to the spring was warm, the steam seeming thicker than last time, clouding the outdoor room and his sight. You were at the furthest out part of the pool, your back towards them as you worked your fingers through your scalp.
Discarding his slippers at the edge, Kirishima climbed into the pool.
The pool only went as far as his thigh, and he sank into the warm water. It felt wonderful on his body, relaxing his muscles just enough for him to wonder when was the last time he had managed to visit a hot spring.
“I’m in,” Kirishima said, his arms rising up out of the water, resting onto the black stone. “You can turn around now.”
“God, took you long enough,” you tease, your body twisting so that you were facing him again.
To Kirishima’s complete and utter surprise, you stilled, eyes dragging up and down his exposed chest, eyes locked on the series of tattoos all over his right pectoral, and trailed down his right arm. His lips felt dry as your eyes shifted back to his face, to his arm, and back to him. The smile on your face felt weak, but it sent a spiral of dizzying heat through Kirishima when he noticed the hushed lust.
For a while, the two of you remained at opposite ends of the hot spring. Eyes closed, hummed melodies passing through the song. You asked Kirishima about how he felt, if his medication was due for refills, if therapy was okay (he was doing better, a refill was due in two weeks, and therapy was going the same). He asked you about your relationship with Kimiko, with the lawyer, and if you had any real friends within the music industry (Kimiko was like an older cousin to you, the lawyer was a pain to deal with at times, and surprisingly, you did meet some genuine friends). You questioned how his friends were doing, if he had any contact with them despite their busy schedules.
So Kirishima found himself retelling stories of his coworkers turned close friends. Each story he told left both of you with sore stomachs from laughter, and tears at the corner of your eyes from laughing too hard.
“Was the tip story true?” you asked once the quiet overcame and grew old. You shift through the water, getting a bit closer to Kirishima.
Kirishima coughed, suddenly feeling a tad bit shy about his posture, but decided to keep from moving.
“You honestly think I would have barged into here just because I wanted to see you?”
Truthfully, had Kirishima been a man without morals, chivalry, or disrespect for you, he would have. Definitely would have.
“Let a girl dream,” you smile, like a luring siren as you wander closer by just a step. “It would go against everything I know about you, but it’s fun to tease.”
“You’re a bigger brat than I thought you would be,” Kirishima smiles back, trying his best to not show the way goosebumps were bursting against his skin, his eyes locked on yours, trying to not get distracted by the way your wet skin made his mind spin.
“I don’t think I’m a brat,” you counter, getting close enough that he could feel the currents of the water with your movement. But you were far enough that Kirishima felt like pointing out the fact you disregarded his keep apart rule would be a mistake. “How am I a brat?”
The sound of the water rippling through the springs along with the growing noises of the bugs began a melody around the two of you, and all Kirishima could do was stare at the way you blinked your eyes slowly — like a feline stalking a prey.
“A lot of ways, really,” Kirishima breathes, his heart rising up to his throat as he felt your hands gingerly place themselves on his knees.
“Yeah?” you ask, parting through his naked legs, and Kirishima felt his breathing stop when your exposed chest pressed against his. Your lips were ghosting so far from his but tantalizingly close enough that he felt drunk off your sweet breath. “And what are you going to do about it?”
Kirishima sucked in air, his arms resisting movement, and his eyes glanced down at the way your mouth was millimeters from his. His dick was very much interested in what he could do about it, and when your hands grazed up his thigh and onto his chest, Kirishima could feel something rumble in his chest.
He moved to eliminate the space, but there was a crash in the following spring, pushing you away from him long before he could claim your mouth.
“FUCK!” the person in the opposite spring screamed, and Kirishima’s eyes closed in his muted annoyance as you sighed.
His eyes dropped to the water, giving you the privacy to rise out of the water and make your way over to the wall.
“Jenny, are you okay?” you called.
“Give me a warning the next time you try fucking your hot bodyguard in the middle of a private onsen!”
“We weren’t fucking you prude!”
And with that, Kirishima took this as his embarrassed cue to leave.
He stood at the entrance of your private spring for about twenty minutes, entirely uncomfortable with the still hard dick in his pants, rubbing and chaffing against his jeans as he stood there. Eventually, you exited the hot spring, face glowing from the steam and eyes avoiding his gaze as you walked back to your room. Your robe was tight on your body, the hair on the nape of your neck pressed to your skin.
Kirishima sighed as he watched you enter your room, your smile short as you nodded a simple goodnight before letting the door slam shut behind you.
Rubbing his face, Kirishima listened to the voices in his intercom talk about how nothing had happened tonight. An attempted unwelcome visitor tried to get into your room, but they had stopped him. They didn’t fight, but they had run away the moment they caught on to the fact that they weren’t exactly authentic.
Kirishima sighed as he slumped into his room, collapsing on the too small bed as he found himself looking at the ceiling in deep concentration.
What was he going to do now?
That was undeniably sexual, his still semi-hard dick damning evidence to the known fact that he wanted you. By god did he want you. Wanted you beneath him, over him, splitting yourself down onto his cock while you gripped your arms and legs around him, fucking down onto his driving cock.
Kirishima groaned low in his chest, guilt blooming in the back of his throat as his palm rubbed his pulsing cock.
Bad, Kirishima, bad.
“Kirishima-san?” a voice broke through his earpiece, and Kirishima nearly jumped out of his skin. “Are you there?”
“Hi Kimiko,” Kirishima sighed, his dick deflating instantly. “Everything all right?”
“Ah, yes! Sorry about earlier, the false tip and the sudden abandonment!” Kimiko embarrassingly apologized. “My client was ringing for the fourth time, and while I care deeply for y/n, I had to take it!”
“Mm, no worries, Kimiko,” Kirishima smiled politely despite the lack of visual contact. “How can I help you?”
“Ah, yes,” Kimiko asserted, her tone changing from apology to one of formality. “So, about the visitor incident I’m sure you were brought attention to, it seems that the vehicle they came in was with the driver's plate: T082-23. Does that sound familiar?”
“Not currently,” Kirishima sighed, his body stretching into a sitting up position. “Does it to you?”
“No…” Kimiko admitted, and Kirishima could feel the worried frown on her face. “Well, I just wanted to call and give you that information. It was passed along to me, and they mentioned they hadn’t told you. And since I was going to give you the schedule for the upcoming JRA’s award day, I figured I’d let you know!”
“No problem! Let’s go over the schedule now?”
“Yes! I have a client meeting in America right after this! Can you believe it? An American celebrity wants my help?!”
“That sounds amazing, Kimiko!”
“Okay, so this is how the day’s going to go!”
Date: 7/10
Time: 18:00
Location: Tokyo Hotel Room 101
Kirishima watched as an entire team was getting you dressed up.
Two people were doing your hair, three people doing your nails, one person doing your makeup, and five getting one of your three outfits for the night ready.
According to you, as you had strutted around in these outfits nearly two weeks ago were your red carpet and beginning of the award show outfit, your performance outfit, and of course, the after-party outfit. Each one was different, yet when adorned on your body was a perfect replica of who you were.
Most importantly, the two of you had decided to ignore every single instance of tremendous sexual energy and desire that basically leaked from both of your pores. It was for the best to ignore it. There was no point in pursuing it, especially when there was a known hunt for you, and Kirishima was the last line of defense between you and whoever it was.
Whoever it was, pfft.
Kirishima was willing to bet on who it was already.
Since the night of the initial kidnapping that finally closed the gap between you and Kirishima, there was something that the caught criminal said that stuck with him.
Everything you had coming your way, you deserved, he had said in bitter spite.
The interesting thing was that it was the lawyer who had said that, multiple times at that. The lawyer seemed to have everything to fuel him to rage against you. Everything you said or tried, the lawyer was on your heel, barking at you that it was wrong. Kirishima had also seen the contracts between you and the lawyer, and the amount that he was paid to be your attorney was not large at all.
The mass majority of the funds you earned were always funneled towards charities and organizations you trusted to help people in need — in fact, it was almost 80% of your total earnings. A meek, barely larger than 20% was split between you, your lawyer, Kimiko, your music crew, and any other unforeseen expenses. The lawyer was also in a situation where he was not in demand with clients, and if you weren’t heeding his expensive tag, he needed a new contract with you.
A contract he was always demanding to discuss with you that you denied to change.
Attacks tended to happen days after you and the lawyer tumbled, not enough to rouse suspicion if you weren’t looking, but Kirishima was. He just needed damning evidence now.
Something.
Anything.
And for some reason, his gut was screaming at him that something big was going to happen tonight, that tonight was going to be the last attack—the one to end everything.
So he had told everyone about it. Kimiko, the security at the JRA’s, even you. It made him nervous.
It made his hand sweat, the gun strapped to his thigh feeling like hot iron as he stood about as you laughed with your makeup crew.
Kirishima swore, promised, and vowed he would protect you.
He was going to.
And when the gold dress was tied to your body, fitting you beautifully, Kirishima found himself unable to look away like strands of your hair framed your temples.
“What do you think, Kiri? Will I be on the Best Dressed List?” you asked, tearing Kirishima’s attention away from the bodice and skirt of the dress. Your eyes were bright, hopeful, yearning for a positive reaction from him.
“How could you not be?” Kirishima admitted, his grin toothy, and he shifted against the wall.
“You’ll make me blush,” you grin back, eyes batting just a bit as you clasp your hands together. It takes everything in Kirishima to keep from striding across the space between the two of you and kissing you silly. “Are we ready to go?”
Kirishima wet his lips, unwillingly tearing his gaze from you, and whispers into the intercom.
“Ready to move out?”
“We’re all clear.”
Straightening back up, Kirishima smiled at you, his head motioning towards the door.
“Alright, y/n, let’s see you make some history?”
“Damn right I will.”
Kirishima smiled as he exited first, carving the path for you.
Paparazzi were on you immediately, the lights flashing and terribly bright as he helped you through the throngs of them. His hand pressed to your back as they screamed demands, most of which you complied with until Kirishima stated that you would be late. You, unfortunately, couldn’t be late to the awards show.
Ushering you into the limousine, Kirishima follows in shortly after you, scrunching up in his seat as he sits opposite of you. However, your typical light and bright demeanor are gone; instead, you seem almost anxious as you open your handbag.
“You okay there?” Kirishima asks as he realizes you pulled out a distinctly obvious metal flask.
“Awards make me nervous,” you painfully admit; you're weakly smiling as you knock back a shot of the drink. “I hate winning and losing; the alcohol makes me less… of a wreck. Do you want some? I think it’s apple soju, I don’t know, a good luck gift from Kimiko.”
Kirishima grins, his eyes rolling as he decides to decline the drink. “Sorry, love, I think that I need to be completely sober for today.”
You scrunch your nose, obviously displeased, “Lame, who shows up to these awards sober?”
“Me,” Kirishima laughed, his head tilting back and scraping against the ceiling of the limousine.
“Such a prude, sober, pervert,” you sigh, taking yet another swig before putting the flask back into your bag.
“Such a brat.”
Just like every previous instance, your eyes seem to glow in glee at that name, your lips curling into a pleased smirk as you shrug. It's a sight that makes Kirishima’s mouth dry and heart racing. Fuck, he should not be thinking about fucking you in the limousine right now.
But before the heat in the limousine could simmer to one of undeniable boiling, you had arrived.
Kirishima cleared his throat, sending a quick wink your way as he exited the car first. The first stop was for him to join the lineup to guide you through all the different photo and interview sessions. No one wanted pictures of him emerging from the limo after all.
There's a moment where after Kirishima closes the door, your eyes filled with worry and excitement as he winked goodbye, that things changed. He stood up, his eyes already scanning the area for anything suspicious, when he saw the all too familiar van.
T082-23.
His eyes widened, his head looking around for anyone else, but there was no one to help. No one could do anything as the car continued to drive away, disappearing from Kirishima’s line of sight. His heart hammered in his chest, and his hands instinctively went to his thigh. He had his firearm… he had it.
With nothing but a quick report to the head of security via his com, Kirishima pushed on ahead, waiting for your descent down the red carpet.
When you eventually emerged from the limousine, Kirishima found that at this moment, the entire world faded away as a gloved hand assisted you out of the vehicle. You were elegant, stunning, a realistic vibrant portrait within his world of greys. As you took photos for the cameras, he was by your side a few strides away as you talked to reporters.
You really came to life right now.
You were beautiful.
“For all the pain in the world that she is, she’s quite charming from a distance, huh?” a voice spoke to his side, and Kirishima froze. His eyes widened completely when he noticed that standing beside him was none other than the lawyer.
The lawyer was dressed in a nice suit, glasses perched on his nose, and for the first time Kirishima had seen, the scowl was not quite so hard.
He was here.
Every warning bell sounded in Kirishima’s head.
This was the man he was so sure was the reason behind your every attack. A man fueled by insufficient funding, a need for a new contract that would never be approved without your signature.
“What are you doing here?” Kirishima asked, subtlety never being something he was ever good with. “I’ve never seen you anywhere except to argue with Y/n about contracts. This doesn’t seem like the appropriate time to be discussing it.”
“Kimiko wanted me to give her a new contract proposal to give to y/n. However, to be fair, it’s quite easy for anything to come down to an argument with y/n,” he shrugs, and Kirishima watches a cloud of emotions pass between the man’s eyes. “At least between her and me, we’ve never gotten along, but I suppose that’s how it is for any type of family who works together.”
Wait.
“What?! Family member?!”
“Yes, I know it’s strange to believe. I am quite ugly, and she is not, but we’re family.”
Kirishima’s mind was racing now. It didn’t make sense. If he was family, why would he be in such pursuit of potentially murdering you? If you were family, he was sure that you would help out? If he needed a raise like he thought, wouldn’t you have helped?
There was no way you wouldn’t.
Was he wrong?
Who was it?
“Kiri!” your voice broke into his mind and tore him back to reality. You waved at him, then passed a stuck-out tongue to the lawyer in a teasing fashion. “Let’s go in?”
Kirishima looked over at the lawyer who greeted a woman, who was also walking down the red carpet, a celebrity he could name no less, with a warm kiss.
Oh fuck.
He needed to call Kimiko; he was so very wrong.
You had won two awards so far, and at this very moment, Kirishima was being ushered back to his seat in the audience as you were being escorted to the main stage to perform your latest song. You had removed your gold dress for a black, sleek gown. Your lipstick changed to a dark red, and your hands trembled in the white lace gloves you wore.
“Oh, Kiri,” you wheezed almost, your hands shaking as the announcers on stage were announcing the last awards before your performance. “I’m getting nervous. What if I mess up or sing off-key? I’d be the laughing stock!”
Kirishima laughed gently, his hands easily encompassing your waist as he stilled your frantic moves. “Y/l/n y/n, if there is anything I know for sure about you is that you are one hell of a singer and a performer. The awards you’re nominated for tonight speak for themselves! You never fail at your performances, and even if you somehow manage to sing off-key, I’m sure that no one would notice! Your biggest fan in the world won’t notice, at least.”
Not more than seven days ago, when you had cried about the impending nerves of being an artist, Kirishima had come to claim the title of being your biggest fan in the world. It had made you chuckle through your tears before coming near a hysterical laugh as the two of you held each other close.
“You’re a nut, Kirishima Eijirou,” you laugh, hands resting on his lower ribs, but your smile was bright, warm. You paused a bit, fingers pulling at the fabric of his shirt. “I’ll sing just for you then, but I think I should take another swig of that soju.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“Could you tell that Takeyama is completely drunk off her ass?”
“...she’s drunk?!”
“Exactly, I’ll be fine,” you breathe, taking a new smaller flask from the purse Kirishima was holding for you and taking the final swig. Your face contorts at the bitter liquid. “Ew, Kimiko really fucked me over with this one. Why is it blue?! Have you ever seen blue apple soju?!”
“No?” Kirishima startled, his eyes looking at the indeed splash of blue liquid tainting a small part of your gloves. “Who gave you that one? What happened with the other flask of yours?”
“Oh, Kimiko sent it along after I lost my other one; it’s her own flask,” you said before the backstage crew whisked you away to begin your set, and without you, Kirishima was sent to the audience.
Kirishima felt trapped as he was ushered into his seat, his eyes scanning the entire audience for something suspicious, a familiar face perhaps. His broad shoulders continued to bump into his neighbors, their disgruntled noises doing nothing to stop his worry.
“And now, Y/n,” came the strong voice of the male announcer, and the light dimmed.
Kirishima watched as the spotlight came down upon you, a golden halo of colors against your darkened gown as the instrumentals began to play in the background. And he saw you take a step forward, the building motifs suddenly silencing when you finally sang the first note.
Despite the panic arising in Kirishima, the unknown of who was behind it all, what was going to happen, he stilled at the unmatched strength and ambiance of your voice.
You sang as you did at every stage, to every audience.
There was a reason why you were considered a legend.
And then, with one last sound, one last melody, and your hand holding your microphone dropped. Your chest heaving, tears falling down your face, and the roar of the audience was silent. You looked through the audience, unable to see, but for some reason, you just knew where Kirishima was.
You smile.
But as the looming sounds begin to fill your ear again, you find that the world is hazy.
You swallow, eyes unfocused as you bowed, hurrying to leave the stage.
Kirishima watched as you took a final stumbling step off the stage, something he felt was going to be written off as you stepped on your dress. But his mind whirled.
The lawyer felt like a setup; the contracts made no sense, the blue soju.
How were they related?
What connected them?
“Oh, fuck,” Kirishima whispered, horrified, and immediately his finger pressed to his earpiece. “Find Y/n! Now!”
Kirishima was racing through the back of the venue, the announcers' voices still ringing through the dirty, bleak hallways. You had just won but was written off as being somewhere backstage; after all, the show must go on.
Voices screamed in his earpiece, each declining to have found you. No one had seen you after you stepped off the stage. No one knew who had taken you.
Kirishima noticed the doors closing at the end of the hallway, and with a dreading sense of doom, Kirishima removed the gun from his harness. And with the devil on his heels, he ran.
Kirishima panted as he looked before him.
You were passed out, draped limp, confused, and woozy against Kimiko’s body, and two men knocked unconscious beside them. To anyone else, it looked as if Kimiko had saved you, some guardian angel within this world, but if Kirishima’s gut meant anything, he knew better.
“Kirishima-san!’ Kimiko squeaked as Kirishima raised his gun, his body tense, unwilling to take a chance on her. “I don’t know what those two were doing! I was saving her, I swear!”
“Don’t do this, Kimiko,” Kirishima whispered, his head shaking. “I figured it out.”
There was a shift in Kimiko’s face at that; the scared unknowing hero melted into one of anger, resentment, one of someone who knew they had been outed.
“So, you figured it out,” she bitterly spoke, her arms that were supporting you from behind revealing to be a firearm of your own. “I didn’t expect you to.”
“I can’t say I figured out your reasoning; honestly, it doesn’t make sense to me, but I felt like it was you,” Kirishima carefully states, his heart roaring at the implied danger of the firearm against your chin. “Don’t do anything stupid, Kimiko.”
Kimiko stares, her lips forming a small o before changing into one of a large, near unattached grin.
“Anything stupid? If anyone is doing anything stupid, it's this selfish prick!” Kimiko spits, her arms tightening around you, making you whimper ever so gently in pain. “She thinks she’s so great, so rich, so smart! Just because she wastes most of her money on stupid shit like charity! Everyone thinks working for her is a dream, but they’re all blind idiots!”
Kirishima’s eyes widen as he notices the glazed, unfocused of your eyes as you shift your attention over to him. Were you listening?
“What’s wrong with the contract?” he asks, a small attempt to diffuse the situation.
“The fact she pays me next to nothing, and yet she works me half to death!”
“You have multiple clients, don’t you?” Kirishima splutters, unsure as to what was wrong. “Why is this one contract so important you wanted to frame her lawyer?!”
Kimiko laughs; it’s pitchy, almost hysterical as she bends over, your body slumping further onto the floor. “That was a lie! All a fucking lie! Do you know that I knew no one when I first started? Y/n is a name everyone wants. I don’t need to do anything to get her things! The world wants her! But the other clients? None of them stayed, none of them wanted me past a month! The salary was okay when she was a snot-nosed brat, but ten years later?! NO! She won’t fucking listen. She never fucking listens to anything but herself! So she has the option to give me the eighty percent, or fucking die here!”
Suddenly the gun in Kirishima’s hand feels like a ton, the skin on the back of his neck crawling and slicking with sweat.
“You know how much those charities mean to her,” Kirishima whispers. “She won’t do it.”
Kimiko trembles for a second, her arm holding the firearm lowering as she looks at the wall, shaking.
“Oh my god… you’re right,” Kimiko realizes, horror and uncertainty flashing across her face. “I guess… she has to die, oh my god, she has to die.”
At that moment, the world slowed down, and Kirishima swore he could see the atoms, the electricity flowing through the space between them. Kimiko’s arm holding the gun raising back up to your temple, her smile detached, horrific yet gleeful.
His body trembled as he doubted himself, his mind unsure if the finger on the trigger was going to be strong enough to fire away. Could he do it?
Was he ready?
Actually ready?
Save her, his past whispered.
Save her, his nightmares screamed.
Save her, his heart yelled.
Kirishima raised his arm, his focus blaring, his past just for a moment, forgotten.
BANG!
“The effects of the rohypnol have already worn out. Thankfully she wasn’t given a whole pill. If she experiences any nausea or throws up, please bring her back, should anything else happen, she’ll be okay.”
The words of the doctor rang in Kirishima’s ears. For tonight, they were going to be discharging you to him. Thankfully, it was all happening in Tokyo, so Kirishima’s apartment was near, and if Bakugou was true to his word, it was clean.
With the help of hospital security, he had managed to get your tuxedo concealed body into a car, and the two of you rode off to his apartment. You’ve been silent the entire time, eyes downcasted as you sit pressed to his side, feeling like a small child compared to him. You knew that he was much larger than you, a near two feet taller, but this felt unmatched.
Kirishima’s jacket was warm around you, it’s sheer largeness another dress on your body, and despite the horrific turn of events, you were feeling warm. You couldn’t remember much of what transpired after stumbling off stage, but you did remember Kirishima bursting through the doors, a look of anger and fear blistering off his person in such a way that made you whimper when you remembered.
You remembered the onsen basically every night, cursing your stupid makeup team for interrupting a night that definitely would have ended with you fucking Kirishima. You cursed yourself for being a coward and not just saying fuck it and fucking him afterward despite the brief awkwardness.
He wanted you, it was clear as day, and you wanted him as well.
Tonight.
“Sorry about how small my apartment is, or if it’s messy, I don’t actually know if my friends have been keeping up with it,” Kirishima apologized, guiding you into the apartment by the small of your back. “You’ll be safe here tonight, and I promise we can get back to your own place tomorrow!”
“Oh, don’t apologize, it’s okay,” you smile, feeling flushed as you cross the entryway to the apartment. His apartment, despite not being home in so long, is clean. The halls aren’t messy, and a hint of lavender is saturated to the air. The dim hallway lights were barely bright enough to cause you to squint as it was dark out. “Thank you for having me tonight, especially after everything.”
At the hospital, you had been given a pair of sweats and a cotton t-shirt. The change in outfit from your event dress was definitely needed, and even though you were sure your makeup was streaked down your face, you felt good hidden in the depths of Kirishima’s jacket.
“Are you hungry?” Kirishima asked, handing over his guest slippers, which you gratefully accepted. “I might have some microwaveable food leftover.”
“Ramen doesn’t sound too bad,” you admit as Kirishima unbuttons the first few buttons on his white dress shirt. You were instantly captivated by the movement, your eyes shifting back to his face when he began to walk off towards the kitchen.
Kirishima talked warmly, keeping the conversation going merrily and bright throughout the entire time in the kitchen. He undoubtedly knew you weren’t entirely okay, and at moments like this, you were entirely grateful for his sweet personality.
To be fair, you knew that you had been quite unfair to Kirishima in the beginning. Looking back at the first entire month of knowing him, you were horrified and impressed that Kirishima didn’t demand to be dropped. You had been selfish, stubborn, a bottom line brat, and he took it day after day. It wasn’t that you disliked him back then; hell, you had been in a near state of delirium when he entered the door during your first meeting because you had no idea such huge men existed to the caliber of his hotness.
But you resisted and might have been harsher than needed.
It was okay now; after all, if he was genuinely bitter about that entire month still, the onsen said otherwise.
It didn’t take long for your stomach to be filled with warm broth, soft boiled eggs, and ramen noodles. Kirishima did, in fact, have ramen, fresh eggs, and some vegetables. In a grand act of preparing you the most sufficient dinner he could, Kirishima presented this under budget ramen and laughed when you said it was terrific.
But it was growing late.
The two of you still sat at his table that was full of a card game, your empty ramen bowls, and cups of water. The clock on the oven read 23:38, and the city lights were slowly dying.
“Are you ready for bed?” Kirishima eventually asked you.
You looked up from your joined hands; your fingers had been playing with his thick and long fingers for some time now. The apartment grew steadily quieter as you studied and attempted to memorize each callous and scar on his hands. They were definitely marked and nicked, the sign of the warrior he once was.
“Depends on the bed,” you tease, lips rising into a small smile as you compare your much tinier hands than his. Your fingertips barely passed the edge of his palm. “What does a big guy like you sleep in? A twin? Tatami mat?”
Kirishima laughed, his hands twisting in yours, wrapping it around so that he raised your hands up to press a kiss to the center of your palms.
“A futon, brat,” Kirishima explained, his smile small but sharp with his humor. “Let’s get you to bed?”
You frown.
“Where will you be sleeping then?”
“My couch is just fine.”
“I’m sure your stuffing in a trash bag had holes in it.”
“That’s okay,” Kirishima laughed, standing up and quickly taking you to your feet as well. “It’s just for a night, I’ll live.”
Your face warmed immediately as he guided you down the hallway of his apartment before finally coming into what was definitely his room.
Kirishima’s scent was faint in this room, cinnamon, wood, and warm spices. It made your eyes flutter as you observed his room from the entryway as he began to set up the room.
His eye for interior decoration was quite… different. You smiled brightly as you glanced around; the diverse and rather boyish decorations around the room warmed your heart. It seemed exactly like what you would think of for Kirishima.
“Well, that’s all!” Kirishima exclaimed, his hands landing on his hips in triumph as he looked around. “The bathroom is the next door over, and I’ll leave a toothbrush out for you. I also left out a new t-shirt of mine if you want to change!”
You nod some more, watching as Kirishima seems unsure of what to do next. He looks around, coughs a bit before nodding.
“Okay, I’ll be leaving—”
“Um, can we talk?” you interrupt, arms wrapping around your body. “I have some things I want to say.”
“Oh, sure!”
“You can sit,” you say, motioning toward the bed. “I have a few things to get off my chest.”
Kirishima pauses for a bit, his eyes looking you over before he eventually nods, and he sits down. The bed slightly creaks under his weight, and you feel your body warm-up at the sound. You want to hear the bed creak more, to rock under the weight of you and him pressed against the sheets as you cried his name.
“What is it?” he asks gently, observing you.
“I just…” you huff, words failing you, your tongue feeling heavy. “I wanted to say thank you for saving me.”
“It was my job to do that,” Kirishima smiled warmly, his arms crossing again.
He was relaxed.
“I mean, I can’t even begin to believe that it was Kimiko who was behind all that, even though we know it was… I know it was,” you trail off, shivering slightly as you remember your ex-managers demented laugh in your ear. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”
“Nothing would’ve happened to you,” Kirishima spoke with finality. “I promised to myself at the first meeting I was going to protect you, hell the entire world would. You’re not going to be taken down by pathetic people like that, not you.”
“Really?”
“One hundred percent.”
“I feel like I should repay you in some way, though,” you rub the back of your neck, eyes fluttering just the slightest bit flirtatious. Kirishima looked at you with full mooned eyes, his arms unfolding and his palms resting onto the bedspread.
“You repay me plenty already,” came his whispered answer, so quiet, so pure you almost smiled. “You don’t have to do anything.”
Your tongue pushes past your lip, wetting the drying skin as you take a step toward him. The shoulders of the jacket slowly fall from your own shoulders, pooling just above your elbows as you stop before him, hands resting daintily on his broad shoulders.
“And what if I want something?” you ask, finding yourself stemming with energy as his legs part, allowing you closer access to him.
You step in closer and closer until your outer thighs are ghosting against the inner part of his.
“I think it’s in our contract for me to do everything that you request if I remember correctly,” Kirishima whispers, his bright clear red eyes turning a burnt shade: dark and ever consuming.
“And if I want you to finish what you started over at the onsen?” you press, fingers curling against the muscles of his shoulders before locking behind his neck.
His nose was brushing against yours, cold yet burning against your own skin.
“I’ll gladly show you what I wanted to do that night,” he grunts, eyes deadly, and for the first time, his hands held your waist.
You took a second to recover, your skin sparking with the electricity of his touch, and you suppressed a shiver as you opened your eyes.
“Do it,” you cement your fates, “coward.”
And just like that, in a movement so euphoric, Kirishima’s mouth crashed against yours.
His mouth was hot, dangerous against yours -- a live wire sparking with uncontrollable energy and heat as your mouths danced. Hot puffs of air were passed between your mouths, your fingers shaking with an undeniable release of tension and want.
The kiss was sloppy, desperate, so needy with unspoken frantic determination to fuck each other until the other could no longer move.
Kirishima’s hand removed the jacket from your arms, letting the expensive material fall onto the floor with a heavy thud. Despite the lack of warmth the clothing provided, the feeling of Kirishima’s hands rubbing against your bare arms sent your mind spiraling.
“Get on the bed,” Kirishima commands against your mouth. “Let me fuck you.”
The words were nearly embarrassingly desperate, but the tone of his voice spoke of the absolute domination he wished to assert on you. He wanted you in one exact way, and you had a feeling you knew what it was. But if he had been paying attention, Kirishima should already know that getting you to listen was not easy.
“No,” you grin against his mouth.
Kirishima pulls away instantly, his lips red and swollen as he replays your word in his head. He looks frazzled, absolutely delirious already at the simple, passion-filled makeout. As soon as his eyes clear away the fog, your grin drops, and instead, you look at him with fierce determination and defiance.
“No?” he repeats.
“No,” you confirm.
Your chest feels light, your head spinning as the hands on your waist tighten, and his eyes flash dangerously. The tip of his tongue pushes past his lips before quickly disappearing again.
“Of course, you’re a brat in bed too, such a fucking princess,” Kirishima shakes his head, but his mouth curving into a shark-like grin.
Menacing, promising, sending chilling shivers down your spine.
The world spins faster than you can keep up, your mouth opening to shriek as Kirishima easily lifts you up, and has you lying against his lap.
“I’m going to let you in on a little secret, princess,” Kirishima begins, his large fingers hooking into the waistband of the sweats you have on and the panties you’re wearing. “My princess gets rewards for being good. If she can behave properly, she gets to be fucked with dick, her pussy gets to be fucked just the way she pleases.”
You can’t help but stifle a moan that threatens to spill out with his words and the way his hands move down the curve of your ass, exposing the naked skin to him. The waistband of both your panties and sweats stay high up your thighs, and it’s almost embarrassing to know you’re still so clothed despite what’s to come.
“And just what does the Sergeant do to bad girls?” you ask, unable to keep your tongue down, your hips rolling against his lap in undeserved friction.
Unexpectedly, abruptly, a hand comes down harshly onto your bare ass.
The contact is rough, stinging against your ass as you cry out in slight pain.
The hand not currently rubbing a warning circle into your ass twists the hair at the top of your head, lifting your head up so that your ear could near his mouth.
“Bad girls get punishments. They get what I want to give them. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“Holy shit,” you whimper, heat flaring between your thighs at the thought of Kirishima doing anything to you regardless of if you were good or bad. You rut your ass back against his hand, longing for a heavier touch, a plea for something more.
“What does the princess want?”
“Nothing,” you bite, and the crashing smack of another spank has you moaning loudly at the stinging pleasure-filled pain.
“You moaning like a whore at a simple spank says otherwise,” Kirishima chuckles darkly, his fingers pinching your stinging ass as your body bucks against him. He spanks you again, again, and again. Each slap is intentful, powerful, wanting to get you to admit what you want, and you cry against your hands each time, your eyes fluttering as the pain feels good.
“Of course, a slut like you would be getting off on this,” Kirishima seems amused, his thick finger pressing to the slit of your cunt, spreading your dripping essence against your cunt. He presses against your entrance with just the tip of his finger, and you shriek in a sound for more, your hips jerking backward to get his finger into you, to fuck you with those thick fingers to do something about the growing desperate heat.
“Kirishima!” you scream, your body sweating and twisting on his lap, desperate to find some way to get him to finger fuck you.
“Ah, there we go,” he sighs in delight as his fingers swirl at your entrance, increasing the teasing and making your mind spin. “Tell me what you want, brat.”
“You!” you wail, two of his fingers carting between your wet, sloppy heated lips. They graze your clit, stimulating you further as you can do nothing but instinctively jerk against his hold, trying to get him to give you the needed pleasure to build up to an orgasm. “I want you to fuck me so good! Please, Sergeant, please, I want you to fuck me until I can’t remember anything but your name.”
“But you haven’t proven to be a good princess,” Kirishima tuts, his hands disappearing from your pussy despite your crying pleas. His hand grabs your ass, though, massaging the abused skin, grasping it tightly.
You moan, embarrassed at the sensation of his massive hand easily cupping your ass cheek, your fingers fisting into the fabric of his pants as you shake your head.
“Are you going to prove that you’re good?” he asks you, his tone like that of a parent chastising a child. “Gonna prove to me that you can be good?”
You shake pathetically against his legs, but you can’t keep yourself from shaking your head. You can’t prove to him that you would be.
“I can’t!” you whimper loudly, your body twisting on his lap to look up at him, your eyes filled with tears and pleading need. Kirishima looked down at you with lust filled eyes and an undeniable need to be followed.
“You can’t?” he repeats, his head tilting, eyes narrowing, and his fingers dug into your ass. “Or you won’t?”
You tremble on top of him, unable to answer because you weren’t ready to hand over the reins just yet. You didn’t want to submit so fast, you wanted to make his own head dizzy with need but the stubbornness to continue punishing you the way he was promising.
“I won’t,” you gasp, eyes fluttering at the way he finally drops your head.
You gasp loudly as you find him shoving you off his lap, and with your panties and sweats sitting so awkwardly high on your legs, you find yourself tumbling off his lap and onto the floor.
“Guess if you don’t want to behave, I’ll treat you like some fucking pussy pocket and dispose of you once I’m done,” Kirishima easily breathes, and you look up at the now standing man as he tears his shirt off.
Your mouth waters, your cunt throbbing at the sight of the rippling muscles and dark lines of his tattoos on his upper body. You watch fascinated, like one does to a masterpiece, as he undresses until he’s in nothing but his socks. And at the sight of his dick, you can feel at once all the blood in your flushed face drop directly into your throbbing cunt.
He was fucking enormous, his girth barely fitting into his hand, and the angry red head spilled its precum against his abs. A black happy trail connecting Kirishima’s abs to his vein throbbing cock.
Holy fuck, he could quickly kill you with that.
Kirishima doesn’t ask any questions as he watches your awkwardly dressed state of a body on the floor. His head is tilted upwards, a small pleased smile on his face as he looks down on you, his hand slowly, leisurely fisting his cock as you can do nothing but stare.
You make some insane noise at the back of your throat at this sight, your thighs trembling with need, and you're pushing off your side, your ass burning, and your balance off as you open your mouth, offering all you could to him.
And thankfully, Kirishima allows it.
He’s much too tall for you to suck him off on your knees, so he sits back down onto the bed, letting you scamper between his legs, mouth open wide like some needy pet.
“Such a good little slut,” Kirishima sighs, sinking his cock into your wet, hot mouth. “Such a fucking cockwhore, all it took was a single glance for you to lose your will.”
You whine against his dick, your jaw tight with the stretch, your tongue lapping so desperately around the cock that was no more than halfway in yet couldn’t go in any further.
“Suck me right, and I’ll reward you by fucking that pretty little pussy of yours,” Kirishima grunts, his fingers pressing into the side of your neck as he ruts his hips up into your mouth, shoving his cock even further into your mouth. “And don’t you dare look away from me while you suck me off.”
It feels like fire.
His cock driving down your throat hurts, the taste of his salty pre-cum slathering all over your tongue and dripping out of your mouth with the saliva you can’t control. His cock hits the back of your throat, and you continue to bob your head, continue to fuck him with your throat as animalistic, praiseworthy noises begin spilling from Kirishima’s mouth.
You whimper at the sight of his head dipping back, and you nearly whine when he shoves the fingers he had gathered your juices on into his mouth. He moans at the contact and with his pleasure with your actions so obvious as you choke against his girth. That was hot, holy fuck, you wanted him to fuck you, please fuck you.
Your eyes close as he begins to fuck faster into your mouth, his delight in hearing you choke around him his driving force. Tears start pouring from your eyes despite your best efforts, your throat and inner thighs burning with lust and need as Kirishima groans, his cock twitching deep in your throat.
Slap!
“Hey!”
Slap!
You gag harshly as your cheeks sting with his heavy slap, your teeth grazing underneath his cock, right against a thick, twisting vein.
“Did I tell you to close your eyes?” Kirishima practically growls, his hands grasping the back of your neck, the other one slapping you across the face yet again. “No. I said… fuck… I said, keep your eyes on me!”
Tears weep down your face, your eyes struggling to keep focus on him as he continued to fuck deep and intensely into your mouth, shoving himself further into you until you could feel his thighs grazing your chin. Oxygen wasn’t flowing anymore; your gags and chokes the only time the burning element could manage to flow through you, but Kirishima doesn’t seem to care. He seems to delight in the way you are, despite it all, are moaning and looking at him in a pleading way for more.
More, you plead.
And he delivers.
Kirishima pulls his still hard, not yet cummed, dick out of your mouth and stands.
You splutter with the sudden intake of oxygen to your lungs, burning you from the inside out as you splutter on the ground.
“W-What’s going on?” you hoarsely stammer, your jaw and throat aching from its prolonged abuse. “E-Ei?”
However, Kirishima seems dead set on getting you naked, and you squeal in flustered excitement as he rips the shirt off of you and his mouth pressing against yours again. His mouth crashes against yours, and you moan into his mouth immediately.
His tongue curls into your mouth and your tongues press and rub against each other. Each passing second growing more desperate, needier, more intense as your clothes are ripped one by one off your body.
“Holy fuck, I’ve wanted you for so long,” Kirishima nearly whines, his mouth trailing down your neck, biting and sucking against every centimeter of skin he passed. “Wanted to fuck you against the wall, in my bed, and now I get to do that.”
“Please, please, fuck me, please,” you beg, your voice bordering a wail as your arms wrap around his neck, letting him lift you up off the floor. Despite you being so much smaller than him that when he held you to him, your cunt wasn’t pressed to his angry leaking cock, you continued to desperately roll your hips against his abs, the friction welcomed and easing the building pressure. It was an action conveying just what you wanted. “I need you in me, Sergeant!”
“Just cuz… holy fuck,” Kirishima breathes ragged, his body twisting around, and you cried when the cold sheets pressed into your back. “Imma fuck you, Imma… god, just fucking watch.”
Your head thrashed back onto the pillow as Kirishima’s teeth sunk into your collarbone, then captured your sensitive nipples, his fingers dancing against your clit and teasing your center.
“Now!” you cry, fingers digging into his shoulder. “Put it in!”
This time, Kirishima didn’t need to be told twice.
His larger body was suddenly pressed entirely against yours, dwarfing you immediately as your arms wrapped around his back as his cock slammed into you. You screamed at the sudden intrusion, your pussy stretched beyond its typical limits by his girth, his size, his power.
Your cunt throbbed around him, your face buried within his pecs as you, despite the searing pain, shove your hips up towards him. Fucking into him, sucking him further into you.
“Holy shit,” Kirishima groans, “you’re amazing.”
“Talk less, fuck me more!” you screech, your body spasming, twitching so hard from the splitting pleasure and the lava pit in your stomach, and Kirishima does that exactly.
His hips begin to meet yours in equaled power, slamming into you so that the bed creaked beneath you. He fucked you until he had to hold a hand on your hip so you could stay there, and you kept a hand on the wall to continue to push yourself down onto his cock.
You screamed with pleasure, cried for more, Kirishima’s shark-like smirk getting bolder, darker, hotter with every slam of his hips until his tattooed right arm shot down. His hand wrapped around your throat, choking you.
“You’re so loud, princess,” Kirishima moans, clearly liking your loud noises, “but you’re going to wake everyone in Tokyo.”
His hand around your throat is enough to have your legs trembling around his waist, your choked and muffled moans and splutters drowning out even more as he pressed a kiss onto you. He kissed you, licking your mouth, and devouring your every word and thought. Your core twisted, tightened, and burned. It throbbed and clenched with it’s impending orgasm, and your body began to tense to the heavens as his cock throbbed deep within you.
“Who saved you?”
“E-Ei did,” you garble.
“Who’s fucking you?”
“E-Ei is!”
“Who’s going to fucking cum when I tell her to?”
“Me! Fuck, me!”
Kirishima laughs, his arms wrapping around your waist, and in one final, fleeting burst of strength, fucks into you with his own power, needs, and desire, and you can only take it. “Cum, princess,” he whispered almost sweetly against the top of your head, and it was all over. Your teeth sink into his chest as you scream, a blinding white light erupting through your vision as you cum around his cock.
Kirishima whimpers, his cock still pushing deep into your cunt, until you can feel the warm spill of his seed in your womb.
He collapses to the side of you, taking you with him so that you were resting on his sweaty chest.
“Holy shit,” Kirishima whispered after a bit, your body already warm and too lethargic to notice the star-like tone to his voice. “That was fucking… holy shit.”
“Does this mean you like me?” you half tease, half wonder.
There’s a pause, a silence, and you wonder if maybe he had fallen asleep.
But he didn’t.
“I’ve been in love with you for some time now, I think,” he admits, his hand beginning to rub small circles into your back.
You find that despite the exhaustion, warmth floods your cheeks.
“Oh?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I guess we’re going to have to discuss a more… permanent and maybe different contract tomorrow morning, huh?”
Kirishima chuckles, and you find yourself smiling into his chest.
“I think we do.”
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Stranger In The Crowd
Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)
Warnings: None
Genre: FLUFF, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)
Summary: Having recently ended the process of moving, Y/N is rightfully very tired but also very excited for the new chapter of her life. Funnily enough, this new chapter includes a newly formed long distance friendship/crush with a very special person from San Diego.
Requested by @boiled-onionrings Hi darling! Thank you so much for your wonderful request and I’m really sorry you’ve had to wait so long for it to be posted but here it finally is and I hope you enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤
I let out a heavy sigh, relieved to finally be at home after such a long day of standing around in the Georgia heat with only a thin layer of fabric to protect my eyes and head from the scorching sun. Yeah, anyone who says that tent did well at protecting everyone under it today is nothing but a liar. I was in a short, strapless white summer dress, the fabric of which barely had any weight and consistency to provide heat of its own yet I still damn near melted. Ok, I’ll admit, some of the roasting heat probably came from the energy and force I put into singing the songs of my band’s new album ‘Starting At The End’.
The mini concert we held in this large open field was meant as an introduction to the city of Savannah where all the band members - myself included - are actually from but we all moved to the West Coast to pursue our music career. And now that we’ve grown, and the majority of us are married, one of us is a father now as well, we’ve decided to return to our hometown. The decision was so spontaneous and was executed so quickly due to no one objecting to it that it still hasn’t me that I’m no longer in LA. The heat isn’t helping my ‘processing’ process but I’ll get to it eventually. Do I miss LA though? Not sure I do - I think I more miss the people I was closer to while I was there.
Suddenly, as if perfectly timed, my phone dings, notifying me that I’ve received a message. I don’t have to look to know it’s from - there’s only one person I actively text and his name is....
C ~ Your virtual buddy Corpse here, making sure you didn’t die of a heatstroke today. If you did indeed survive, just reply to this message, if not....don’t do anything, I guess.
I can’t help but giggle at the sight of the message. I promised Corpse I’d text him after the concert to let him know I was ok, but the even dragged out for longer than anticipated so I’m guessing he got worried.
How cute.
Me ~ Alive and well, but I do feel like a popped tire of an overloaded truck. Hope that’s a visually appealing description
Corpse and I met on the charity livestream Jacksepticeye organized and invited our band to so we could play Among Us with some of the best gamers and streamers on the internet. It was a huge honor and a ton of fun, definitely an event I’d like to repeat in the near future because I had such a good time and I know all my bandmates did too. We all got acquainted and even became official friends with the gamers that were practically our hosts, Corpse becoming the closest friends I’d earn. That livestream happened months ago and we still text just as consistently.
C ~ Oh I know EXACTLY what you mean. Anyway, as to not exhaust you further to force you into typing, how about you send me pictures to sum up your thoughts and emotions and plans for the evening
This is OUR THING trademark, mine and Corpse’s and no one can take it away from us. It’s a significant element of our friendship that enables us both to understand one another when one of us feels the way I described in my message - a popped tire or a deflated balloon. I’m usually the exhausted one - blame the many shows we do and the many meet-and-greets we organize for our lovely fans. It’s the type of exhaustion none of the band members mind at all, but we definitely need some time to recover from it.
As I go to sit down on my couch, the flower crown I’ve been wearing slips off the top of my head, falling on the floor, creating a soft noise that attracts the attention of one of my many cats - Sasha. She’s the youngest and most curious kitty in the family, always protected by the other four - Luna, Cassie, Silver and Lynn. Those four are far lazier and a lot more disinterested in comparison to Sasha who immediately runs over to see what’s fallen.
I smile to myself, taking the flower crown and undoing it to lessen it by a few stems to make it smaller, all the while being watched by the curious Sasha whose interest is rewarded in the end when I put the now adorably tiny flower crown on her head.
While she still hasn’t shaken the thing off I manage to snap a pic which I send to Corpse who opens it mere seconds after it was delivered.
C ~ Sasha’s pulling off your aesthetic better than you. Sorry, someone had to let you know
I burst out laughing for two reasons - 1.The message itself, damn it! It’s hilarious; 2. Corpse has learnt the name of each one of my cats and never mixes them up - not even Luna and Lynn who look almost identical. That amount of attention to detail is astonishing and very meaningful to me, it genuinely warms my heart and that may or may not be dramatic but it’s definitely not exaggerated.
Me ~ You think I haven’t caught on yet?
C ~ Well, if it makes you feel any better you pull off my aesthetic better than I do
He’s referring to the e-girl look I did for one show the band had in downtown LA one night. I was drunk and looking forward to trying new things so I improvised the hell out of my outfit but I apparently looked presentable enough to leave a good impression on Corpse despite the pic I sent him being a bit blurry and being a mirror selfie in the bathroom of the very bar we were performing in. It goes without saying that the mirror was dirty too - had a bunch of writing on it which Corpse said only added to the aesthetic. Looking back on it now I kinda agree, and luckily so did the fans in the comments of that same photo when I posted it on Instagram.
Me ~ Means a lot actually. Nowhere near enough to aid the burn of having a cat pull off cottagecore better than I do, but still helps XD
As if sensing that we’re talking about her, Sasha hops on the couch, poking her head over my phone to look down at the screen.
Now this is gonna be golden.
I take a selfie with my phone in my lap, the camera capturing both me and Sasha at a rather unflattering angle which has me losing my mind laughing when I send the picture to Corpse who immediately sends back a string of cry-laughing emojis.
C ~ I can’t tell which one of you is cuter
Me ~ If that was a compliment, I gotta say I appreciate it greatly
C ~ Just telling the truth ;)
It’s times like these that the butterflies in my stomach remind me just why I’ve started catching feelings for this man despite all the distance between us and despite barely knowing him - he knows me more than I know him but I don’t mind it, oddly enough.
I’m fond of our connection and though I sometimes dream of something more, I’m also content with what we already have considering that ‘something more’ seems rather unattainable as of now.
My phone dings again, clearing the fog of thoughts and presenting me with a new message from Corpse.
C ~ Oh, by the way, look what I got....
That message is followed up by a picture of a ticket. A plane ticket to Georgia!
While I’m still busy stomaching this and dealing with my quickly rising excitement, he sends another message.
C ~ I hope to catch a The Silver Rays concert while I’m there. Heard they had an adorable frontwoman ;)
My breath catches in my throat as a wide grin spreads across my face. The thought of having Corpse so close to me sends those aforementioned butterflies in my stomach into a raving mood and they practically explode my insides with excitement and joy like I’ve never felt it before. I can’t wrap my brain around the fact that we’re about to go from having an entire country between us, to being just some ways away - him in the audience and me on stage without a single clue of who to look for. That’s part of the excitement though, I guess, part of the guessing game that’s gonna make our meeting all the more interesting.
He’ll be a stranger in the crowd and I’ll be a performer on a stage - seemingly two people who have no relation whatsoever. But damn does it go beyond that: No one has to know how hard I’m falling for that stranger in the crowd.
Me ~ I’ve heard so too, can’t confirm it though
If this is gonna be a guessing game, I’ll flip the tables a bit - I won’t take any guesses. I’ll let the answer come to me. I’ll give the first move over to the stranger in the crowd, let’s see what he does.
C ~ I’ll check and let you know, don’t worry
Not worried whatsoever, Corpsie. I’m not worried at all.
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A Blessing, Beautiful And True
pairing: bucky x fem!reader
word count: 3.2k
warnings: use of she/her pronouns; swearing if you squint; mentions of death; mentions of food
a/n: this is a rewrite of one of my old fics that i absolutely hated with my entire being. i hate this a little bit less djaksjsjs also pls ignore how i literally cannot write a good ending to save my life.
dedicated to @xsamsharons for lending me her name. i hope i did it justice mi amor ily <3
Bucky learnt to value things.
Not the great, terribly material things people around him seemed to rush after. Not money, not even when he was barely getting by.
No, for Bucky, it was the small, seemingly insignificant things.
The tiny toy WWII soldier figurine he found at a yard sale one Tuesday afternoon, the one with the missing arm. The near-exact model of the car his father used to drive—rusted around the tiny steel axel, the rubber wheels worn from use. That yellow screwdriver set that sat at the very back of the tool cabinet in the garage, unusable because of the cracked plastic handles and rusted steel, that looked exactly like the kit he had once used to fix up the plumbing in his first apartment.
Bucky was used to valuing the broken little things.
He never truly understood what loving something whole, something complete felt like—not until he met you.
You, in your white sweater and blue jeans, hair tossed up in a braid. You, your eyes that dancing with unbroken light, like the rays of the sun on the ocean on a bright summer’s day. You, with the sort of kindness he never truly thought he would ever be worthy of, not until you showed him that he was.
You, the girl he fell in love with before he could ever truly know what love was.
Steve might’ve been the first to notice. He was with him that day, the day he first saw you. They had been hunting for a Christmas present for Tony, and even though Bucky wasn’t exactly thrilled to have to attend, he wasn’t about to show up empty handed.
Steve didn’t even realize that the sly-footed assassin wasn’t by his side until he had walked the two blocks from the mall to his car. Hands ghosting over the gun tucked into the holster hooked into his waistband, Steve retraced his steps, his heart thundering in his throat.
Until he heard Bucky’s laugh.
Not the obviously fake chuckles he used to placate those around him. No, this was the laugh he remembered, the laugh he thought Bucky had lost.
This was Bucky’s laugh—his Bucky’s laugh, before the world stole him away. Pure and innocent.
Happy—so undeniably, inexplicably happy.
The tension eased from his shoulders when he saw you. Steve knew who you were, of course. Everyone did—or at least, everyone who had been around after the Battle of New York. Everyone who had seen you walk among the rubble, bleeding through your jeans, helping dig survivors out of the rubble, guiding them to shelters. Everyone who had seen you do everything you could help those who needed it more than you did, until your legs finally gave way and the only reason you didn’t collapse to the floor was because Steve caught you.
But Steve also happened to know why you’d done it. Because you were kind. Because you were selfless. Because you knew what it was like to lose everyone you loved, and to garner the strength to build yourself up anyway.
You’d lost people too—everyone you loved, killed during the Battle. Your family. Your friends. It might’ve seemed cruel to be spared. Might’ve seemed like a cold, dark twist of fate—and for a time, it did.
Steve had never known anyone to be resilient the way you were.
And maybe, just maybe, he thought to himself, as he watched his friend from through the glass, maybe you would teach him to hold on to the tiniest sliver of hope too.
—
Bucky didn’t even like books.
The only book he’d read—aside from the coursework assigned to him in his school days—was The Hobbit. And even that had taken him an ungodly amount of time to finish.
So yeah, Bucky didn’t exactly like books.
But he still visited the tiny bookstore on the corner every day.
He didn’t even buy anything. He just looked around, running his fingertips over the spines of the books that jutted out of the wooden shelves, the sunlight turning his eyes into uncharted waters of the oceans, swimming with undiscovered secrets and untold lies.
You would talk to him. All the time, and with no trace of the usual pity or sympathy that he heard when he spoke to people. You talked to him in a way that made him feel like himself, in a way that made him feel like he just might rediscover the man he used to be.
That first time he’d seen you was burned into the back of his brain, the image of you standing there with a hip braced against a bookshelf, dressed in a white sweater and jeans, your hair pulled into a braid over your shoulder. He had watched as a strand escaped, falling into your face.
And him—he'd stood there, watching you talk to another woman he couldn't recall because really, how could he look at anything else but you? Bucky was certain he looked like a gaping idiot, both wanting your attention to turn to him, and dreading the fact that he would surely make a fool of himself if you so much as looked at him.
Back in the 40s, things would've been so much easier. He would already have said something witty to make you laugh, he would already have been telling you about the carnival down at the beach and asking if you wanted to go with him.
But when your friend left, and you asked him if there was anything you could help him with, his voice sounded strange to his own ears as he croaked, "Books?"
You had laughed—and he found himself laughing along. A true laugh—for the first time in a long time, the sound didn’t sound fake to his own ears. For the first time in a long time, he felt like himself.
Bucky had taught himself to value that which wasn’t whole—because he wasn’t, either. Love was give and take. Love was equal.
If he was to deserve your love, he would have to be whole again. If he was to deserve your love, he would make himself whole again.
—
There was a sudden shift in the way Bucky viewed the world.
It had been three days since he last saw you, but he walked in through those doors anyway. He had no cause, no reason—he just couldn’t go any longer without seeing you.
You were sitting by the bay window at the very back, reading a book. He took a second just to take you in, to get used to the fact that you weren’t just a figment of his imagination.
The second you looked up, your face split into a grin, like you were truly, genuinely happy to see him. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had smiled at him that way. “Hey, you’re back! It’s Bucky, right?”
He nodded. He couldn't trust himself to speak, not when he was sure he would stumble over his words, not when he couldn't bring himself to string together a coherent sentence in your presence.
"What can I help you with today?" you asked, snapping your book shut and placing it on the table.
"Uh... What're you reading?"
You glanced down at your book before looking up to meet his eyes again. Blue, you thought, supressing a smile. Icy blue, but warm nonetheless—familiar in the way most things aren’t. "Wuthering Heights. You've never read it?"
He shook his head no. "Never been much of a reader, no. Is it any good?"
"It's one of my favourites," was your answer, watching as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. The light caught the steel of the chain around his neck—the chain of one of those military-issue dog tags.
And maybe that was how it started—on that dreary cold Wednesday, when you'd stood next to the bookshelf by the window, telling him about your favourite book, but really all he could focus on was the late afternoon sun rendering the hue of your eyes several shades lighter, the soft slope of your nose, the fullness of your mouth. Every little detail about you was etched permanently into his mind—and he wanted to learn more.
He wanted to know everything there was to know about you.
It was about closing time when he decided he had to go. Not because he wanted to, but because he had promised he would have dinner with Sam and Steve. And as much as Bucky wanted to stay, he was a man of his word.
Which is why when he promised you he would come see you as soon as he finished reading the book, you knew he meant it.
—
And you were right.
Two days later, he was back.
It was raining that day, early in the morning when you were just about to open up. And there, standing under the awning in the freezing rain, was Bucky, the collar of his coat turned up against the wind, drenched to the bone.
"What're you doing here?" you asked, eyes wide.
"I just... I don't know," he said. Because he didn't. Bucky didn't even like books—but he did like being around you. There was a strange sort of calm about you, a sense of peace he'd only known in Wakanda. Around you, he was just Bucky—not Sargent Barnes, not the Winter Soldier—just Bucky.
He liked being just Bucky.
You shook your head, but he could've sworn he saw the corner of your mouth tilt upwards as you fished your keys out of your pocket and unlocked the door. "Well, come on inside. I'll turn up the heat and get you something warm to drink. Christ, Buck, you could get pneumonia or something.”
He only nodded once. It didn't matter that he wouldn't get sick—not when the serum in his veins healed his body faster than normal. It didn’t matter that even if he could sick, he wouldn’t have cared, not when you were looking at him like that, with concern in your eyes for something other than your own safety.
You had a coffee machine in the back room, you told him. He followed you, lingering in the doorway as you bustled about, humming a tune under your breath. He recognized it as a song from that one Marvin Gaye album Sam couldn’t stop talking about. He recognized it as a song he wanted to listen to for the rest of his life, if only you were the one singing it.
He recognized that, for better or for worse, you would be his undoing.
—
After that, he came to see you every day.
When the weather got colder still, he brought you steaming cups of hot chocolate from your friend Bella’s café down the street. And on the days when he didn’t, he would head into the back room and make you coffee. You’d never had to tell him how you took it—after that in the rain, he’d somehow remembered what you liked.
You weren’t about to tell him, but you remembered what he liked too.
It started out simple—plum cider that you found on your weekly trip to the farmer’s market. An old vintage copy of The Hobbit from the forties. Rubber silencers for his dog tags that he never used but carried around in his pocket anyway—until eventually, you had something new for him every week, some insignificant thing that he looked at with the kind of childlike awe that made your heart twist into knots in your chest.
He walked you home too. Every evening, with his hands stuffed in his pockets, slowing his stride so that he could walk alongside you. He would stand outside, across the street, hands in his pockets, waiting for you to walk into the apartment you shared with Bella. Only leaving when the lights came on and he knew you were safe.
Bucky wasn’t much of a talker—you learnt that about him. He would spend all day sitting quietly in a corner of your store, reading one of the books he found on the shelf of used copies you kept in the back of the room.
He seemed to love those used books more than the new ones—books someone had already read, books that had already been loved.
He felt a little that way sometimes, too. A little too used for love, not loved enough for use.
But never when he was with you.
And you—you were falling for Bucky Barnes. A little by little, day by day, without even realizing it—not until it all came rushing to you one afternoon, like a dam breaking, like the ocean of his eyes pulling you under, especially when you felt his gaze on you from time to time, watching you as you worked.
That afternoon, a new shipment of books came in. You didn’t even have to ask him for help—he was already on his feet, snapping his copy of Anna Karenina shut, mumbling a soft, “I’ve got it,” as you signed for the order. Hefted the two cartons of books like they weighed nothing at all, and carried them inside.
There was a strange tightness in your stomach as you watched him, standing in the middle of your store—the only thing the Battle of New York hadn’t taken away from you—and you wondered just how it took so damn long to realize that the feeling of familiarity didn’t lie among these books, but rather, in Bucky himself.
—
It was a slow day, so the two of you spent the rest of the afternoon restocking the shelves. He asked you about each of the books, watching your eyes light up as you talked about your favourite ones, until conversation lapsed into a comfortable silence, the two of you basking in each other’s company as you worked.
You didn't even realize how much time had passed until you heard the door open and your friend Bella breezed in. She'd been here the first day Bucky had walked in, had noticed the way your eyes shifted to him mid-conversation like you couldn’t focus on much else when he was around. “Ready for lunch, y/n?”
You looked at Bucky, opening your mouth to ask if he wanted to come along. Not because you didn’t trust him to be alone at the store, but because you wanted his company. Because being around him felt like coming home.
He only waved you off. "Go ahead. I've got plans with Stevie. I'll be here when you're back though."
You believed him. You believed that he would always be around, for as long as you wanted. And you wanted forever.
"Was that the guy from before?" Bella asked, looping an arm through yours as you left the store, walking down the street. She brushed her fiery hair out of her eyes, turning her head slightly to look at you, yellow-green eyes filled with curiosity. “What’s his name?”
"Bucky. He... He's a friend," you said.
"Well," Bella said. "He sure doesn't feel the same way."
"What do you mean?" you asked, confused.
"Y/n, he looks at you like you put the stars in his sky. Are you sure he's just a friend?"
"I... I don't know, Bella."
Because you didn't know what else to call him. Because you and him weren't friends in the way people usually are—you had always been more.
Bucky was always more.
—
"I've barely seen you," Steve said, picking up his can of Diet Pepsi and taking a sip. "Where have you been?"
"Around," Bucky mumbled. Because how could he explain why he was spending so much time at the bookstore with someone he'd only just met? How could he explain the magnetic pull he felt toward you, the inexplicable desire to just be around you?
How could he explain the way you made him feel like himself again?
But Steve knew. Steve always knew. He saw the growing stack of novels on his friend's bedside table, saw him reading at the kitchen table, book propped up against the jug of milk.
He also knew that all this was because of y/n. Because Bucky mumbled that name when he was too exhausted to even know what he was saying. Because Bucky talked in his sleep—and Steve could hear him calling that name through the thin walls that separated their rooms. "You've been at the bookstore?"
Bucky set his drink down. There was so use denying it—his friend would see right through him. Steve had known him for too damn long to believe in his lies. "She's so... I can't even put it into words. She makes me believe that there's good in this world. That all the things I did wrong don't even matter—not when I'm with her. It’s the way she looks at things, the way she’s capable of finding a little bit of good in everything. Like she found something good in me, Steve."
Steve knew it was true. Because he hadn’t seen Bucky this way for a very long time. Because he hadn’t seen that light in his friend’s eyes in a very long time, and ever since he met you, it hadn’t gone away.
—
Bucky had to leave for a couple of days.
He didn't tell you why—just that it was a work thing. How long would he be gone? He didn't know.
"I'll be back soon," he said. "I promise."
And he was. Five days later.
But Bucky was quiet—quieter than usual.
It was a Sunday, and you’d somehow managed to drag him along to the farmer’s market with you. He walked alongside you, hands in his pockets, like he was aching to reach out and touch you but desperately holding himself back.
He’d almost gotten himself killed on that mission.
You took up too many thoughts in his head, too much space in his heart. And when the bullet narrowly missed him, grazing his ribs, his only thought was whether or not you’d miss him if he was gone.
You deserved better than someone who’s life was tied to the death of others. Someone who didn’t have so much blood on his hands.
A few paces ahead of you, Bella walked hand-in-hand with Bucky’s friend Sam. You were glad that Bucky had introduced them, glad that Sam made Bella happy in ways you’d never really known or understood before.
“Look at them,” you said, watching with a smile on your face as Sam quietly slipped a couple of oranges into Bella’s bag. “They look real happy.”
Then, turning to look at him, you smiled, and he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. Because you might deserve better, but he was selfish and stubborn, and the only thing he had wanted in so goddamn long was you you you.
“Go out with me,” he blurted, every thread of self-control he had so carefully cultivated to keep his head in your presence snapping. He felt like he was taken back to that December evening he saw you for the first time, when the words refused to leave his mouth, when you’d rendered him tongue-tied and helpless. Only this time, he couldn’t stop the words from coming out, not as he said, “One date, y/n. One date, and if you don’t have a good time, we can just forget it ever happened and move on.”
His heart shuttered when he saw the small frown creasing your brow, your voice soft as you asked, “Are you sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything. I want to do this for the rest of my life with you, y/n,” he said quietly. “But for now, I’ll take that date.”
“Okay,” you said, nodding slowly. “Okay, Bucky, I’ll go out with you.”
He couldn’t help it. Bucky wrapped his arms around your waist, drawing you to him, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around until you were both laughing, childlike and breathless, blissfully unconscious of the knowing look on Sam and Bella’s faces.
Because really, how could he see anything but you? You had been it from the first day he saw, and you were it now—a blessing, beautiful and true.
tags:
@goldengoddess @wherearethesantreys @ughlantsov @for-bebbanburg @mriddlemethis @xleiaorgana @xsamsharons
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#bucky x reader#bucky x y/n#bucky x you#bucky barnes fluff#bucky fanfic#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes#marvel mcu
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Vampire/Human AU
(Slight NSFW, angst)
Thinking about vampire HC who owns a vampire-friendly bar with humans who apply as donors to supply fresh blood for vampires willing to pay the expensive prices. When a human with beautiful amber eyes, soft facial features, and blood that smells absolutely delectable, walks in, every vampire whips their heads towards the door. The human approaches one of the staff, YY, to inquire about becoming a donor. HC watches as the enticing morsel follows YY into a room to finalize his application.
Right after the human leaves thirty minutes later–YY probably having said it would take a few days to find him a match–HC pulls YY aside, demanding to have a look over the papers the new donor filled out. After a quick scan, HC shoves the papers back to YY with a click of his tongue,
“No need to find him a match. He’s mine.”
A human whose blood smells heavenly, who has never been bitten or even nipped by a vampire. HC wants to corrupt him. Ruin him.
The next night, HC has the human, XL, meet him in his personal feeding room. There’s a luxurious velvet couch to the side, a pristine glass table with fancy wine and glasses, and a king-sized bed with crimson silk laid upon the mattress.
HC, like most vampires, typically feeds while stimulating their donors. This can be done with something as simple as kissing or full-on intercourse. Not only does this relax the human’s nerves so they won’t tense up before being bitten, but the toxins injected into their system after being bitten feels incredibly euphoric, serving as a kind of aphrodisiac. Many humans donate their blood in this way for the sole reason of attaining this heightened sense of pleasure.
But as soon as XL enters the room in front of HC, his mind freezes as he sees the bed.
“I’m a virgin,” he blurts out, wide eyes panicked as he looks at the vampire. HC raises his eyebrow, unperturbed.
“We can work with that.”
XL gulps.
“I’ve also never kissed anyone.”
HC runs a tongue along his sharp fangs.
“Do you want to change that?” The vampire asks, walking up behind the human, pressing his chest against XL’s back. HC hears XL’s heart rate pick up at the proposition. It’s an unspoken yes, though XL also imperceptibly nods his head. He does not see HC’s lips spread into a vicious grin. However, XL does feel lips brush against the shell of his ear, sending shivers down his spine.
“Use your words, precious. Do you want to be kissed? Want to be touched, experience pleasure beyond comprehension?” HC murmurs, skimming his lips across XL’s nape. “I can fuck you too. Push into your little body as I sink my fangs into your neck. I’d place them right here-“ HC taps XL’s jugular, the human jerking to the side with a gasp. “-oh? So sensitive. All the better. I can make you feel so good.”
XL’s breath quickens, ever so slightly leaning back into HC’s tall frame. HC leans forward to catch a glimpse of those doe eyes regarding him with caution. Oh, how he wants to eat this human alive. HC turns XL around by his shoulders. He lowers his head to bump foreheads with XL, forcing the human to look into his red-tinged eyes.
“Is that a yes?”
XL blinks those doe eyes once, then twice.
“Yes.”
HC brings his hand up to brush a hair away from the human’s head.
“Wonderful.”
***
XL is at the point in his life when he lost everything. He chose to pursue a career outside of his parents’ embroidery business despite being expected to take over the shop after college. Abandoning college altogether, XL went off on his own to chase his dream to become a singer.
A few years later, where XL was provinces away from home, XL’s parents’ business had gone under, devastating them as they could no longer pay for their medical bills. Upon hearing the news, XL rushed back home to take care of them. It seemed they had kept their declining health conditions under wraps. They were too prideful to admit their weakening physical states; they also did not want to guilt XL into giving up on his ambitions to take care of them.
XL’s parents lasted one year before passing away, his father first due to prostate cancer, his mother one month later after succumbing to exhaustion and grief. XL lost their home along with the shop merely a week later, unable to pay off the debt. His parents had used up their savings for their medical expenses and XL had been scraping by as a musician for years. Additionally, there was no one he could confide in. He had lost contact with his friends as he moved from city to city, busking on streets, attempting to catch the attention of music labels.
XL was utterly alone. There were days when not even music could bring an ounce of comfort. However, music was the thing that kept him sane between the various side jobs he managed to pick up to keep him off the streets.
As if the fates decided XL had had enough bad luck for a lifetime, a CEO of a fairly well-known label offered him a business card after a busking session. It was JW of Capital Records who gave XL hope of achieving his dream. XL spent most of his late 20s under the label, training and practicing and producing. He had the chance to record a couple of singles and one mini-album–which he didn’t get to participate much in the production side–but other than that, XL didn’t make it far. He was tremendously overworked and yet, still discarded to the side.
Wondering why he wasn’t provided the opportunities other artists received to further their careers, XL scheduled a one-on-one meeting with the CEO to ask what he was lacking. JW had insisted he could give XL more opportunities if XL could offer something more than just his serene vocals and pretty face.
The unspoken suggestion that XL offer up his body pierced his heart with yet another stake. Overwhelming disappointment and betrayal crashed into XL, but perhaps he should have known better that the whole situation was too good to be true. XL vehemently rejected this idea, angering JW who eventually tore XL down to the point of a medical emergency that allowed him to leave the agency without repercussions.
At age thirty-two, XL was left with no family, mental and physical trauma, and a dying will. Ironically enough, the song lyrics he’d written after experiencing so much loss were the closest thing to making music he’d gotten. But in the end, XL still felt like a failure.
Now in Xi’an, XL was left with limited options to earn money for rent. He already worked two part-time jobs in addition to writing music—though even time set aside for this has dwindled.
One night, as XL was walking home after closing up the convenience store, he saw the neon lights of the sign “Ghost City.” He’s heard many things about this club and is no stranger to the existence of nonhuman creatures roaming amongst human society. After hours of research, XL decided to apply to become a blood donor. It’s not like he had a better option that paid more anyway.
XL’s hope to somehow redeem his past actions has all but fizzled out. He doesn’t expect a vampire like HC to care about his comfort or consent when feeding, though HC still prioritizes these things for some reason.
XL has never looked at his body and thought about the best ways to pleasure himself. HC shows him how. HC caresses and kisses XL like he’s worth being handled with care; HC also invades XL’s body as a threat to break it, broadcasting a vampire’s strength, speed, and endurance in the bedroom.
XL can go as far as to say he even looks forward to his time with HC. In between a busy work life and dealing with people who would rather look the other way than give him the time of day, XL’s mind and body steadily weaken.
It starts with memory loss, where XL can’t clearly remember the conversations he’d had the day before. One of the reasons this develops is because he goes through many days without having anyone to tell about his day. It’s like the life XL lives is so insignificant, nothing about it is worth remembering.
Then, it’s the lack of eating. Most of XL’s money goes towards rent, essentials, and groceries. But he’s not a great cook. And he’s already drained by the time he gets home after working both jobs and visiting Ghost City. XL’s stress doesn’t help, adding to the fatigue that gradually shuts his body down.
While HC might not be able to taste a difference in XL’s blood, he does notice how frail the human moves around. How delayed XL responds, more so than he should be–even as a human. XL has scheduled more visits: three times a week this time. However, his words become less. He stops telling the little stories that brought a small smile to his face. XL doesn’t even mention the songs he’s been working on lately.
HC forces himself to ask about them after an especially rough coupling.
“How’s the songwriting going, darling?” HC asks quietly. He props his elbow upon his pillow, resting his cheek on his hand as he intently observes the human struggling to catch his breath, eyelids fluttering.
“I haven’t written anything new,” XL breathily answers. HC purses his lips. He ducks down to affectionately tongue at the skin his fangs pierced.
“No? In how long?” HC asks. XL sighs heavily.
“Maybe three weeks.”
HC doesn’t know what to say to that. He’s not one to console anybody. No one had afforded him that luxury, and naturally, he did not grant anyone else his concern. The silence that follows is unbearable.
***
The next time XL visits, he’s the one to initiate their first kiss. HC growls happily against his human’s lips, pinning him against the closed door of his private room. XL moans obscenely as HC languidly licks into his mouth. His arms desperately wrap around HC’s neck to bring him closer.
“Someone’s eager,” HC says with a chuckle as he pulls back. XL instantly attaches his lips to the vampire’s jaw, peppering light kisses along the pale skin. HC can’t help but think he’s taught his little human well. XL hums while trailing his lips back to HC’s, capturing them in a kiss that’s the sweetest one yet.
HC should’ve noticed how unstable XL’s legs seemed, how dreadful the bags under his eyes looked before indulging in their bedroom activities. He should’ve kept track all along of how thin XL is, how much more skin and bone he had become. HC is certainly not one to intrude on someone else’s life and scrutinize all their choices. But he should’ve said something sooner.
Maybe then, XL’s heart wouldn’t have stuttered so violently, or completely stopped beating for five counts.
HC watches in horror as XL’s eyes roll into the back of his head. His human’s body goes limp in his arms, collapsing into HC’s chest. When XL’s heart beat starts up again, it’s very weak. There’s a noticeable abnormality in its rhythm.
HC quickly gathers XL in his arms and speeds to the bed. He sits back against the pillow, placing XL to recline against his front. HC hooks his arms around XL’s middle from behind, anxiously listening to XL’s irregular heartbeat that seems like it takes all of his human’s energy to pump. Luckily, XL awakens a few minutes later. He registers a cold embrace and warm puffs of breath lingering near his ear.
“Did I pass out?” XL wheezes out, unconsciously melting into the body behind him.
“Yes,” HC says tightly. “Your heartbeat is uneven. Something is wrong.”
XL can’t tell if he’s imagining it but that sounded like worry in the vampire’s tone.
“Oh.”
HC inhales sharply.
“You just fainted, Xie Lian. Hell, your heart just stopped for a few seconds, and all you have to say is ‘oh?’” HC grinds out.
So he is upset. XL swallows thickly, not wanting to escalate things and further upset the vampire.
“It’s okay,” XL says. “I’m okay-“
“No. You’re not,” HC interrupts.
XL takes a deep breath, wincing slightly as HC tightens his arms around his hips. He’s more sensitive than normal, XL realizes. Before XL can defend himself further, HC grasps XL’s chin and turns his head to face the vampire.
“You’re hiding something from me,” he states. He hears XL’s heart speed up. “There’s no use in lying. I can tell you’ve grown weaker since you first came.”
“Well, I have been donating my blood to a certain vampire for a few months now. I’m bound to be a bit weak in my legs,” XL replies as a matter of factly. He means to poke fun at the situation rather than acknowledge the severity of it. HC knows this because he’s done it numerous times himself. But when XL does it, it makes HC’s blood boil.
“Are you saying I am causing this- this deterioration in your health?” HC asks tensely. XL lets out a gasp, whirling around in HC’s arms, immediately backpedaling.
“No! No, not at all.”
HC’s eyes assess his human who trembles slightly in his arms. He cradles XL in between his legs, hands shifting XL further up his body so he can rest his head on HC’s chest. HC gently pets XL’s hair, an action that was uncharacteristic of him months ago, before XL had walked through the entrance of his bar.
XL gently smiles in an attempt to placate the vampire.
HC’s eyes flash a frightening scarlet.
“I don’t believe you.”
XL’s face crumples.
“It’s true! I’ve just been really busy is all. Work has been hectic and- and-“ gone is the innocence that HC once saw in XL’s doe eyes, instead replaced by stress and utter brokenness that alarms the vampire to no end. A voice in the back of HC’s head snarls that those emotions had always been behind XL’s eyes; they were simply better hidden, and HC had been too lust-driven to notice.
XL continues his rambling, frantically shaking his head. “-I took some extra shifts because I needed the money to pay for some water damage that flooded half my apartment. I’m fine—truly.“
If HC had a beating heart, it would have dropped down to his stomach at the sudden realization. His fingers dig into the paper-thin skin of XL’s hips, then trace up the bony knobs of his spine.
“You’re not eating right.”
“Wait- S-san Lang-“
The nickname HC had asked XL to call him is hurdled back into his face like a stone aimed to shatter. It sounds like a cry for help.
“And you’re not getting enough sleep,” HC concludes with a disapproving frown. His eyes now glow a deep crimson, matching the silken sheets that HC ensures are in perfect condition every time XL visits.
“Fuck, XIE LIAN, you know you need proper nutrition and rest to recover from each night you spend with me!” HC is nearly shouting now, voice wavering out of his control. Who knew another creature could make him feel so strongly?
“I-I am!”
“I SAID NOT TO LIE TO ME. I CAN TELL WHEN YOU’RE NOT BEING HONEST,” HC explodes, spatting those words with a poison that he often uses with uncooperative subordinates, but never directed at XL before.
Tears glisten in XL’s eyes as he’s cornered with no way out, no relief from the building pressure that suffocates him. Right now, after everything XL has been through, this seems to be his tipping point. He never expected HC to care this much. Or perhaps HC is just concerned his reliable supply of blood is flaking out on him, just when he’s had a feasible taste.
XL is sure HC has plenty of other donors to feed on. It’s not like XL is particularly special in that way. Frankly speaking, XL had time and time again asked the universe to give him one last sign that his life mattered in some capacity. But if he couldn’t see the value in his own life, who else could?
XL scrambles off from HC’s lap, allowing himself to speak with the deep-seated spite that has grown in his heart like an untamable weed.
“THERE’S NO NEED TO GET SO WORKED UP OVER MY HEALTH!! I’LL BE GONE SOON ANYWAY! THE DOCTOR GAVE ME THREE MORE MONTHS,” XL screams, having to catch his breath after exerting so much power into his voice. “So there. You have my answer. I’m not lying this time. Just one a couple more months and then- then you won’t have to deal with my shit anymore, okay?”
HC can’t move. He can’t speak either. The shock taking over his system renders his mind and body completely useless. He can only stare blankly at XL whose tears now cascade down his cheeks.
No, this cannot be happening-
XL’s whimpers pull HC out of his head. The human hugs his own frail body, shivering from a coldness that does not exist in the room.
How did HC let it get so bad?
“I’m sick, San Lang. Very, very sick. Not just physically,” XL whispers defeatedly, letting out a small hiccup.
HC doesn’t hesitate to surge forward to throw his arms around XL, hugging him once more. It’s a habit now—to hold XL whenever he could. Now, HC wonders how many more times he would get this chance before it was inevitably the last.
“Xie Lian…”
“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I-I just can’t eat. Sometimes from stress, other times I completely forget. And I want to rest, but I end up laying in bed awake for hours a-and my mind just won’t let me sleep-”
For the first time in over a decade, there is someone else to hear XL’s agonized wails.
“Please believe me, San Lang. Please."
#tgcf#heaven official's blessing#tian guan ci fu#hualian#hualian au#cerdrabbles#xie lian#hua cheng#human xie lian#vampire hua cheng#sorry it's rushed
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Genius
pairing : dad! Yuta Nakamoto x mom! Reader, Shiho, Shin (ft. NCT 127 Members)
genre: fluff
word count: 1.7k
taglist: (The Yuta’s Angels team) @ailoveyuta @aiforyuu @yutazen01 @2-3-t-i @cosmiclatte28 @nuoyipeach @dreamlesswonder86 @loona-4-eva
a/n: Welcome to another episode of dad! Yuta. I miss writing for Shiho. I tried my best to put all members of NCT 127 but I might make another one where it’s more focused on them. I also feel bad that I can’t post some AUs lately so I’ll post two scenarios today and ghost you all. 😂
Yuta watched in amusement as little six-year-olds started going out of the door in a line. They’re so cute. But what made him grinned widely is seeing his daughter, smiling. He doesn’t believe it at first when you claimed that your daughter is indeed enjoying school. But here she is, the sunshine of his life, beaming widely.
“Daddy!” She called, running to him. He was quick to carry her, giving her a kiss on the cheek.
He should really pick her up from school more often now. “Hi, princess. Did you have fun today?” Shiho nodded. Yuta opened the door of the car then helped her put on her seatbelt. Her bag was next to her and Yuta smiled at how it was creatively done. Truly, a one-of-a-kind bag. “I got you this.” Shiho smiled when he handed her two yellow roses wrapped in pink paper.
The younger giggled, looking at the flowers as Yuta started dashing to the driver’s seat of the car. “Thank you, daddy.” She said when he started putting on his seatbelt. “Did you get mommy some flowers also?”
“Later,” Yuta answered then adjusted the mirror in front to see Shiho who was just smiling at him. “Mommy is going to the doctors with Shin.”
The happy expression was replaced with a worried one and he smiled. “Is mommy sick?” Yuta shook his head. “Is Shin okay?”
Yuta nodded, smiling at her. “The doctor just needed to check if Shin is healthy. He’s fine.” He assured. “Can you come with daddy to practice today? Then we’ll meet mommy and Shin for dinner later.”
“We’re going to SM?” She asked, wide-eyed. Her dad chuckled, she’s too happy. “Is Mark oppa going to be there?” Surprisingly, he can hear your voice saying, ‘You’re really the same. Even Shiho is obsessed with Mark.’
--
The Japanese NCT member was smiling to himself when they entered the building and Shiho is becoming a real darling greeting all the staff with a bow and a ‘Good afternoon’. “Taeillie, Johnny samchon, Taeyonggie, Yuta…” She was singing the name of each member of her dad’s group inside the elevator that made Yuta chuckle. “Doyoung samchon, Jaehyunnie, Jungwoo oppa, Mark oppa, Haechannie...”
“Who taught you that song?” Yuta asked and she mentioned your name. “Why am I just Yuta? You call them samchon and oppa.”
“I’m not yet done.” Shiho revolted then giggled. “My handsome daddy Yuta who loves mommy, Shiho, and Shin.” Yuta grinned. “Winwin oppa, Jungwoo oppa, and Mark oppa, too.” She continued that made him laugh. Why are you like this? He’s going to make this a really long night for the two of you.
When the father-daughter entered the practice room, the other guys ran to where Shiho is that made the younger giggle. She showed the flowers to Jungwoo, and Jaehyun asked her what she did at school. Yuta put her bag on one corner of the room, next to his things, then watched his daughter in adoration.
He remembered when he first formally introduced you to the guys, they had the same reaction. He never actually saw you the whole night because they kept on talking to you. If not for Doyoung, you wouldn’t have some alone time that night. But that was the time he first realized how much he really liked you. Who would have thought that he’ll have the same feelings while watching his daughter interact with the guys he calls his brothers?
“Where is Mark oppa?” Shiho innocently asked that made Johnny laugh, teasing Yuta that she is indeed his daughter. The youngest kept on thanking Haechan who gave her a strawberry smoothie that he bought with Mark. Taeil gave her some papers to kill time in drawing, even asking her to draw him.
Yuta smiled at the younger girl, crouching down beside her in the practice room. “Will you be alright here? Daddy will just practice.” He said while Taeyong called everyone for practice. Shiho nodded, grinning at him with her toothy smile.
Surprisingly, she really behaved while they were practicing the choreography for their new song in Japanese. Doyoung was just smiling, noticing how she bobbed her head along with the song while busy with her paper and crayons. "You'll probably have a little idol soon." Jaehyun teased.
This is something that you and Yuta have talked about over and over. What if Shiho wanted to be an idol? As cool as you are, you just wanted to support her whatever she wanted in the future. And he wanted to be as cool as you so he promised to be okay with it.
--
You were seated on the couch in the lobby when Yuta and Shiho exited the elevator with the other members. Your daughter was running to you, giving her little brother kisses that made you giggle. "Did Shin cry in the doctors?" You nodded your head at her question. "I'm sorry noona can't come with you." She whispered. You smiled at that, she’s really growing up.
"Hi." You greeted Yuta who gave you a quick kiss on the cheek. "Are you tired? Should we go home?" He shook his head, telling you that you needed to eat dinner since you're all outside. Your husband asked you to take the bags that he placed on the couch as he carried Shin in his arms. You bowed at the other members, thanking them for taking care of Shiho.
Yuta was driving the family car, Shin and Shiho on their child seats. "You should have seen daddy dancing, mommy. He looks mashitta." You giggled at that. It must be really hard for Shiho to learn different languages at once.
"Honey, daddy is meoshitta. Mashitta is delicious." Her eyes widened in the mistake she did that made you smile. "Maybe daddy is also mashitta, do you want to bite daddy?" You teased that made the six-year-old chuckle. Yuta just shook his head, laughing.
He decided to grab dinner in a kids' café near your home. Shin was on a high chair and Shiho was next to him, eating her meal. Once done, she asked if she could play on the slide that made Yuta nod. You needed to tire her out or she'll just stay up all night. Kids' energy really is no joke.
"I can feed, Shin. You should eat more." Yuta volunteered, moving his chair near your son so he could reach him. You only stared at him, smiling as he gave your son some breadsticks to munch on. "I know that look. Do you want me to feed you?" He teased and you nodded, grinning like a small child.
He twirled some spaghetti using a fork then fed you that made him giggle. "Did Shiho bother you earlier? I'm sorry, I should have brought her with me to the doctor."
Yuta shook his head, smiling. "She's really behaved earlier." He explained then gave you some breadsticks as well. "I already feel bad that you had to bring Shin to the doctor alone. Next time we can do this set-up." You nodded, it really is easier since you only focused on one child. "So what did the doctor say?"
You shared what the doctor said, about his teeth growing and his increasing weight and height. "Yuta, I was thinking. Should we transfer to Japan?" He glanced at her in surprise. Why so sudden? "I wanted Shiho to learn Japanese."
"I can teach her Japanese." Yuta volunteered. "We're doing fine here. And Shiho is enjoying school here." He held her cheek. "She will eventually learn Japanese. We can go on a vacation to Osaka on her break."
"Don't worry about it, love. She's still struggling with Korean, Japanese will be easy for her."
--
You always trust Yuta in his decisions especially when it comes to your children. When you're planning to have a child, both your parents would always tell you to talk to each other when it comes to your child. That they matter the most. And it was something that you always keep in mind.
It was a weekend night. Yuta just finished up some things in the office before heading home. You were washing the dishes when you heard a certain voice humming. “Shiho.” You called from the kitchen hearing the six-year-old singing a song. You knew she sings great, something that she got from your husband. But she was singing an unfamiliar song in a foreign language. "What are you singing? Did you learn it from school?"
She shook her head, still focused on the task on her book. "This is daddy's song." You knew all the songs on their past albums. But this is relatively new. You decided to listen more and was surprised that she's singing in Japanese. They do have a Japanese comeback but why would Shiho know that song? "I heard it while the uncles were practicing." But how can she even memorize all that?
A jiggle of the keys was what you heard while folding the laundry, Yuta gave you a kiss on the top of your head. "Are they asleep?"
You shook your head then held your husband's hand, guiding him to Shiho's room. "Listen." You could hear her voice singing to the song she had been singing all day. Yuta's eyes widened in surprise. "Is it really your song?"
He nodded. Not only does she pronounce the words clearly, but she was also clearly in tune. But how? Yuta never played the song in the house. She only heard it while practicing. "Did you give birth to a genius? Her pronunciation is even better than yours." You raised an eyebrow at that. "And she's in tune."
"I do think our children are geniuses. Shin even said mama today."
"He did?"
"But Shiho was the one who heard it."
Yuta smiled, pulling you closer. "They're getting bigger. Maybe it's time for another genius."
You just shook your head smiling at him. "Put Shiho to sleep first and I'll finish things here." Yuta grinned, opening the door to his daughter's room.
You had to laugh at yourself. To think that you're worried about Shiho not learning Japanese. Yet, here she is proving you otherwise. She might really be a genius.
Your children might really be geniuses. Can your family be any more perfect?
#yuta nakamoto#yuta nakamoto fluff#nakamoto yuta#nakamoto yuta fluff#yuta#yuta fluff#nct 127 fluff#nct 127 yuta#nct fluff#nct yuta#dad yuta#yuta imagine#yuta nakamoto imagine#nakamoto yuta imagine#yuta scenario#yuta nakamoto scenario#nakamoto yuta scenario
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Edo Tensei
I don't even know why am I doing this. Maybe to let my sorrow out? Well, either way, enjoy.
Isn't it nice? Peace can be achived, even if temporarily.
You can make civilians and shinobi live together peacefully, regardless of clans.
Tobirama was always skeptical about that, but his big brother showed him that it's not impossible.
Still... why is he smiling? Tobirama can't help but feel hatred towards him and his so called friend as he looks down on them from the tree he is sitting on.
They are laughing, training together, even being affectionate... what kind of brother is that?
Hashirama doesn't care to notice as Tobirama stares at him, rather just drowns in self pity as he had gotten a harsh comment from Madara.
Maybe, perhaps, that will never go away. That little habit of his.
Watching that unfold... all he can think about is how foolish it is.
Tobirama never had any hate in his heart towards Hashirama, but it hurts.
It hurts that he has to walk alone in a flower shop, because he is the only one who remembers.
He shook those thoughts out of his head though, as he already took out his wallet. He greeted a smile to the man wrapping up some roses,
" Good morning Inoae "
The man greeted back, happy to see a regular.
" Good morning, Lord Tobirama. "
He is not going to lie, being called that makes him feel a little icky, he isn't Hokage yet, or is it certain that he will ever be. However, formality is kept.
It's not like it will matter in a few years, right?
He just went on to choose flowers.
Four purple hyacinths for the first bouquet.
Two pink tulips and two delphiniums for the second one.
Two white tulips and two gladiolus for the third one.
They were all so beautiful, yet they only caused silence. He wished he could, but Inoae couldn't look the man infront of him in the eyes. He knows all too well what does this mean.
Tobirama was used to it. Usually he is greeted with silence upon entering a room.
And that silence followed him everywhere.
Well... not the cemetery. Where his brothers were.
He walked his way in, getting more and more nervous as his heart went quicker upon approaching the huge rock where his brothers are laid.
Dare he call it a grave.
Although, he was quite scared to face them just yet. So he decided to go to the left side of it, paying his respect to someone else's brother,
" Izuna, are you listening? I am sorry.. no, I just ask for your forgiveness. I hope you are watching over your brother, he seems to be doing well. "
He had placed the first bouquet of flowers down the cold shiny rock. He didn't know if the feeling in his chest is emptiness, or rather guilt.
It could be both.
Now came the hard part, going to the right side of the rock.
He can't call it a grave, he refuses to accept it.
He had placed the beautiful flowers down, bowing as he spoke.
" Itama... Kawarama... Please forgive big brother, he didn't come to your anniversaries. Even if he didn't come, I hope I am enough. Please don't hate him for this. Are you doing alright.. ? I wish I could hug you both for one last time, " tears streamed down his face as he grabbed his chest, gasping for air " I am sorry you could never make it to 10. I am so so sorry.... this isn't how it was supposed to turn out like... it really wasn't.... "
It was dawn when Tobirama caught his two younger siblings painting their face in the reflection of the river by their house.
He had approached the two giggly smaller ones as he noticed that they have their mothers make up paint in their hand.
It was cute, how excited they were over a few crushed up wet roses..
" Say, what are you doing? "
Itama looked at him, holding a brush for him to take,
" We are wearing warrior make up! Try it too! "
And so he did. He squat down alongside them, copying the motions they did,
" So tell me... Why are they dots? "
Kawarama smiled, clapping his hands together, happy to answer,
" It will bloom like a flower! It's just dots now... But when we will reach 10, it will all be lines, mimicking the shape of lowers! "
Itama nodded, as he adjusted the hand of his older brother,
" Yeah! Hashirama already celebrated his 10th birthday! So it's between us three now! "
Tobirama hummed, murmuring a little 'I see' as he painted his face. That was, to this day his favourite memory with his brothers.
And it keeps repeating over and over, he can't stop thinking about it. It pains him, if not everday, every other day.
Even as he looks through their family album and seems their cut off hair, from the first time they each got a hair cut.
The circles under his eyes barely tell a story compared to how swollen it has became. He had cried all day, his heart crushing.
He stroked over the plastic covering of the hair, sighing to himself in the darkness of his own room, being surrounded by nothing but cold..
... and a bunch of research papers.
" I wish I could bring you two back just by this... I miss you so much "
One thing is for sure, ghosts exist.
Tobirama had found out that a long time ago, by experience.
Turns out, hating your father and trying to please your brother's wishes only results in your dead father's spirit yelling at you whenever you manage to stay up after 5am.
Tobirama sniffed and wiped off his under eyes.
It's time to be stronger, it sucks to drown in self pity, day by day everyday.
And so that was the start of it all. The start of Edo Tensei.
Both the sun and moon had fallen down multiple times while Tobirama spent weeks in his office, only leaving for small wash ups.
He was desperate, he had a goal in mind and he for sure going to achive it.
Sleep was something he... well forgot to do, but came to him naturally. Each time, he had envisioned all the failed attempts that had happened.
It's been months, he is used to it. Used to all the dry tears on his cheek after a few minutes nap, as he still hears the painful scream of his little brothers. He wants to get it right. He so does.
Just what is he missing? What?
He has calculated everything imaginable. So why.. why don't they look human?
Those questions rang louder and louder in his head as he made an attempt to revive his brothers in their - now - family home.
Well, the little hill next to their garden tree.
Itama and Kawarama were sad. They couldn't be as grown up and as human as their big brothers.
They tried to comfort their older brother too.
He was on his knees, punching the ground with his fists as tears stormed down his face.
" Why, why, why? ", he asked, over and over.
Not to mistake him for an idiot though, once he felt two little hands stroke his back, he had wrapped his arms around what he knows as his little brothers.
" It's okay "
" Thank you for trying "
Those small little voices trying to comfort him.. their gentleness... It should be the other way around. It really should.
But why is he like this? It's hard to admit, but Tobirama is ashamed. It should be the other way around.
The ground broke, and suddenly there was water everywhere but around the three of them.
It was almost destructive, flooding everything around them, breaking of their tree, turning into a water tornado.
It took a mental breakdown for Hashirama to notice what's wrong, as he ran there yelling out
" Tobirama! "
That was the last thing in Tobirama's memory before his coma.
Hashirama must have solved it, he guesses. After all, not only their house is new, but their list of forbidden jutsus are too.
#the way this is a mess#tobirama#naruto#hashirama#itama#kawarama#senju bros#can you guess who is my favourite brother
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innocence - 30
PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader
WARNINGS: angst, panic attack
A/N: all i can say is enjoy it before it goes completely downhill xx
NEXT CHAPTER
- Marry me, Y/N. - she looked at him in disbelief, lips slightly parted as she wondered if she had heard him correctly?
- What?
- I ... hm ... would you consider being my wife at some point in the near future?
His father had once told him the moment between the proposal and the answer is the longest moment he’d ever go through. Bucky knew long, he knew long times, he was 106 after all but this moment seemed to last three centuries. She stared at him as if she had merely imagined those words. His heart beat against his chest like a drum, as she opened her mouth. She was going to say no. Why would she even say yes? She was so sweet, so beautiful, so full of a sweet loving innocence which just made her endearing to anyone and everyone who met her. He is not the type of man that ends up with a girl like her. No, he’s the type of man who she dates as a mistake, the one she dates before she meets the one and Bucky was constantly waiting for the moment she realised he was a monster.
- Yeah. - she smiled, the type of smile which easily brightened up his day. She moved from her spot in the bed, sitting on top of his lap to wrap her arms around his neck. - Yes, I will marry you.
- What?
- Yes. - she leaned down to kiss him. - I will become your wife at some point in the near future.
- So, just to be safe, you are agreeing to marry me? Me? - he was still in shock she had said yes. Those words, that question, it was just came out of his mouth like crazy ramblings spawned out of his desire to have a family with her. He just didn’t expect her to say yes. He didn’t expect her to be sat on top of his lap, smiling at him having said yes. - Doll, I ... Fuck, I don’t have a ring. I can’t believe I just proposed to you without a ring.
- That’s fine. I love you and you love me. I don’t need a ring. - she cupped his face, kissing the tip of his nose. - Just us.
- Just us. - he leaned towards to capture her chapstick covered lips into a soft kiss. - I like that, princess. Just us.
- Yeah. - Y/N shyly smiled, leaning against his shoulder. - You make me so happy, Buck. You don’t even know how happy you make me.
Bucky didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to say, what to reply to her so all he did was just look at her, head tucked on the shoulder, the metal shoulder with such confidence and such care. She did not believe he could hurt her and she loved him. There were little moments in his life which had made him want to cry, he had refused to cry many times, but having the woman he loved tell him she loves him, she cares for him, she’ll marry him ... the same woman telling him he makes her happy, not just any woman, the woman he loved ... gosh, it was too much. All he could do was kiss her scalp, hold her close to his naked chest which in any other time it would’ve turned sexual but now, now it was just a candid moment, a moment he wanted to hold close to him for as long as he could leave. He refused to forget the feeling of her hair strands against his shoulder, her warm hand against his chest.
The rest of the holidays were as eventful as it would be. Y/N had decided to only tell her parents about the engagement, keeping her extended family and siblings outside the news merely to keep the event away from the media. She didn’t want it publicised and neither did Bucky. Her parents were overjoyed, with her mother wanting to take photographs of them to put on the family album while her father just gave him the look he would’ve given to his sister’s husband had he been ... well, there. All good things come to an end and that end was very close as the two of them were supposed to fly back to New York for Y/N to attend the New Years’ Eve Vanity Fair gala.
- I wished we could stay for longer. - Y/N groaned as she stuffed more clothing into her luggage. - Last thing I need is a gala.
- It’ll be okay, princess. - Bucky came up from behind her, resting his chin against her shoulder. - We can return when you have another free time slot.
- I never have free time.
- I’ll steal you away if they overwork you. - he bite her shoulder playfully. - What’s the sad mood really all about? Don’t tell me it’s about missing Colin calling me a 200 year old.
- It’s silly. - she shook her head, folding more of her clothing to put with the rest of it.
- I know that face. - he turned her so she was facing him. - What is it? Is it your parents? Do you miss your parents?
- No ... I ... uhm, remember the Halloween party you and I went to?
- Yeah, what about it?
- I met some people from the RSC and they said if I ever was in London, I should try and audition for their West End run of Moulin Rouge. I got this e-mail yesterday, auditions are in like an hour and I don’t know ...
- Do you wanna do it?
- No, I mean ... I can’t, my contract says they’ll pick the opportunities for me and it’s London and I’m in New York. Besides, we leave in two hours.
- They don’t need to know.
- Bucky ... - she was about to argue with him but he interrupted her, kissing her sweetly.
- Do you wanna do it? - he looked into her eyes. Bucky could always tell when she was lying by looking into her eyes; she would always divert them away from the person standing in front of her, normally to the right, chin tucked into her chest, gaze up.
- I ... I do but ...
- We can make it. Your agency does not need to know and it’s not like it’s a done deal. Princess, if you wanna do it then do it.
- Buck, it’s not that simple.
- It is that simple, doll. I can get you wherever you want without anyone knowing and we’ll still make our flight.
- Bucky, I’m not gonna get it. - she sat on top of her bed. She didn’t know if she was gonna get it and it wasn’t that she was afraid of failure or rejection, god she knew both too well, all she was afraid of was if they discovered. She was under a tight contract but those words, that invite to her during that party, it just pulled at her conscience. Bucky was much too familiar with her to know exactly what was going through her mind.
- I’m not gonna let anyone touch you. - his fingers hooked under her chin, turning her face towards him so he could lean his forehead against hers. - They won’t know.
- Bucky, they always know.
- You don’t get to be called a ghost story if you’re not good at being a ghost, princess. If you don’t want to do it then it’s okay but if you’re not gonna do it because of what your agency thinks ...
- You’re sure no one will know?
- Well if they do, we can always get you plastic surgery. - he lightened up the mood making her look up at him, her chin tucked in her chest as she lightly giggled, rolling her eyes at him. - You’ll be fine, princess.
She was nervous as the taxi pulled in front of one of the theatres were the auditions were happening. Looking at her watch, exactly an hour before they had to make it to the airport, check in and get to their gates. Maybe this was a mistake, how was she supposed to feel? The agency had given her a shot at a career in the States, everyone wants a career in the States. She should be happy, she should be so happy but how happy could she feel about being back if thinking about stepping into that plane destroyed her heart into a million pieces. Looking to her right, Bucky was smiling at her, always blindly believing her even if she led him directly into the fire, but he was there. He kissed her temple as she left the car and rushed into the theatre before anyone could show.
She had been to so many auditions before, she had felt her body shake so many times when her name was called out after signing a non disclosure agreement as it was usual for popular shows. This time it was different, this time the light seemed brighter, illuminating each of her features and almost illuminating the sweat starting to form on her forehead. She stood tall, almost like a woman in a panting with hands resting against the beginning of her skirt, one foot in front of the other.
- My name is Y/N Y/LN and I’m auditioning for the part of Satine. - her voice even wavered as she struggled to do something she had been so used to doing since she was young.
- What will you be performing, Miss Y/L/N?
- If It is True from My Life with Albertine. - she looked over to the pianist, signalling him to start.
Her heart was beating so fast and she could feel her whole being shaking as she wondered what Miss Olson would do to her if she even suspected she was doing an audition outside of her contract. She ended up missing the first bars, looking down at her feet as she thought back to quit until she saw him sat down in the further back of the theatre. Cap on, almost covering his whole face but she could see his eyes, she could see his blue eyes just like she could see them every morning when she woke up.
- If it is true, you love me. If when at night dreaming you dream of me then I am luckier than the king who rules the sea. - she decided to sing for him instead, blurring everything except for his almost blended figure in the back. Her hands touched the pearls laying against her neck as she cocked her head to the side, small smile on her lips. - And if I die a sudden death for reasons why I do not know. But if I die a sudden death to live forever in paradise, I will not be as happy, in all that time, as I have been with you. If it is true, if it is so, you love me. If it is true, and I have heard you then I am wealthier than a queen with love of you, I am wealthier than a king with love of you.
The bars ended and she returned her gaze to the board of the directorial team which gestured for her to leave and someone else to enter. She left through the backstage, meeting Bucky just at stage door, who wrapped his arms around her, twirling her before kissing her lips and nose.
- You did so great, princess. It’s almost unfair for the other people auditioning.
- We need to get going or we’ll miss our flight. - she avoided another one of his kisses, her watch shining brightly with the hour. - C’mon.
- It’s gonna be fine, princess. We’ll make it.
Once again, he was right. How could he not be right? When it came to time management, Bucky seemed to be almost too good at it, almost too good for someone who had so much time. Nevertheless, they were inside the plane again, the time when they had left New York now so behind them as they returned to his birthplace. She leaned against him arm, not caring it was made of metal, it was him and that’s all it mattered to her. Y/N was innocent enough to believe she could do whatever she wanted while in London, while in the airplane but she knew the moment she stepped foot on American soil she was back to being property of her agency. Back to the parties, the gowns and the constant filming. She loved her job, she really did but things pilled up so easily and she felt locked inside a cage, slowly suffocating.
She did not want the plane to land, she did not want to be in the present of her situation but it did and during the early hours of the morning both her and Bucky were going down the stairs of the plane and onto the sleeve which lead to the baggage claim area. Bucky immediately went in bodyguard mood despite the fact the airport was very much empty but no him no amount of care was too much and until they got inside the taxi, he cut through people with precise ease, yet held her hand like any boyfriend would. The ride home was silent, neither Bucky or Y/N liked to discuss their matters in front of people they did not trust. The walk up to his apartment was equally silent, with the both of them basking in their own comfort until they reached the door. The two walked in hand and hand before throwing the bags to the side.
- Home sweet home. - Bucky kissed the side of her forehead. - So, what’s the agenda for tomorrow?
- Boring. - she groaned, sitting down on his couch.
- You get to eat for free, how boring can it be?
- Those 40s habits sure die hard, don’t they? - she smirked. - I need to get to my apartment at 4PM to get my makeup and hair done, put the dress on ... PR shots and so on.
- Your apartment?
- I know what you’re thinking, Buck. - she tilted her head slightly to the side.
- I am not thinking anything.
- Please. - she crossed her arms. - You’re thinking it’s not safe.
- That’s not what I’m thinking. - he walked up to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. - I’m thinking it’s not safe to have that many people in an unsafe apartment without me around.
- You’re not gonna be there? - she was taken by surprise. Bucky was always around, even when they weren’t dating.
- Ms. Olson said I can’t be there. Might spoil something ... whatever that means ... but I’ll escort you to the venue and stay with you from then onwards.
- You’re not gonna be far, are you?
- I thought you knew what I was thinking, doll face. - he leaned his forehead against hers, teasing smile gracing his lips as those words left him. - You think I’d let you be alone with those people far away from me? No, princess, I’ll be around.
- Good.
Y/N did not enjoy the parties she had to attend as a member of her agency. Everything was highly planed, too planed even and so was this day. She entered her old apartment and a swat team of people were already waiting for her, she smiled at them, grabbing the letters which had started to pile up on the floor ever since she left to stay with Bucky, until Ms. Olson grabbed her arm and pulled her into her bedroom where the hairstylist and makeup artist were waiting for her. Her assistant’s hands pushed onto her shoulders to sit her down in the chair. Y/N started to go through her letters, most were Christmas postcards, bills, letters from several companies and none mattered much except for one in a brown envelope. She furrowed her eyebrows at the lack of sender name or even her own name or address in the envelope. As the hairstylist started to style her hair, she opened the envelope, a few photos of her falling on her lap. A breathe got stuck in her throat as she saw her own eyes scratched out with crosses over them.
- What is that? - Ms Olson took the photos off her hands. - Why is this still happening? Last thing we need is crazy stalker PR.
- I .. I don’t know. - she shrugged, not knowing why she felt so guilty. It wasn’t her fault. Right?
- Right, I’m sending this to Mr. Hawthorne, he has a friend in the government, and you ... you better not get into any trouble tonight, Y/N. Are we clear?
- Yes, Ms Olson.
- Good and try to smile a bit more for the photos.
Her ears filled with a static buzz and although she could see herself in the mirror and her surroundings, she felt she was laying on the floor of a dark room with dead eyes. Motionless, she remained motionless staring at herself in the mirror yet not understanding the image she could see. She wondered if she had fallen too deep into the industry to be rescued and suddenly that black dark room was filling with water and she just let it happen. Y/N just laid on that metaphorical dark ground, floating in the dark water which kept entering her lungs until she couldn’t bring anymore.
- You’re ready. - she had been so lost in her own mind she did not realise she was fully dressed, hair ready and makeup done. It was pretty subtle, she thought, small black dress falling pretty much looser with tussled hair and skin toned makeup. It was something she’d pick for herself ... maybe the agency did knew her better than she did.
They did the same thing they always did, some shots some not candid candid moments for social media and the good old fake champagne shot. She never really enjoyed champagne, she found it quite bitter even sour but it was prestigious. She guessed somehow it correlated with how she lived now, or how she was portrayed. She was ushered into the limo to Bucky, her Bucky yet she couldn’t really say anything until it was just her, Bucky and the driver. Once they were at least 10 minutes, it felt like the air she was holding in finally came crashing and she was pushed back into her own reality.
- Y/N. - Bucky only spoke her name, not touching not do anything. - I am here, you are safe.
- What? - she looked his way before smiling. She was an actress after all, but he was a former spy assassin.
- You are safe. - her features relaxed and she didn’t say a thing, instead marinating in her own thoughts. - I am here, you are safe.
- I don’t wanna go. - she let it out, her face coming to the realisation of what exactly this meant. She knocked on the partition. - Stop the car.
- What? - the driver was as confused as Bucky was.
- STOP THE CAR! - she yelled out and the car came to an abrupt end. She opened the door and like a mad woman she walked out into the first alley she saw, leaning against the wall with her hand pressed against her chest. Bucky went after her, stopping after he saw her leaning against the brick wall, hand over her mouth. Bucky knew panic attacks when he saw one and this was one of them.
- Princess ... - he walked up to her, trying to hold her but she stopped him.
- I’m not going.
- Okay, we’re not going. - he took off his gloves, raising his hands in the air. - Look at me princess, it’s me okay. It’s me, just me. Just us.
- I can’t do this anymore.
- Can you breathe in for me? - Bucky managed to finally hold her once her defences were down. - Count to ten in your head and then breathe out.
Y/N breathed in, her head going immediately to count sheep, specifically 10 sheep. It was childish and she knew it was childish but she always did that whenever she needed to recover from feeling anxious. She let the air out before repeating again for what felt like a hundred times and things seem to calm down. However, peace and quiet wasn’t in the cards for her.
- Just what in the heck do you think you’re doing. - Ms. Olson’s high pitched voice made her flinch. - You are not important enough to win the privilege to be late.
- Keep it. - Bucky warned, giving her the look no one wanted to receive. A look that was more Winter Soldier than Bucky Barnes.
- You stay in your lane. - she pointed her pen at him. - Get in the car right now, Y/N. I do not have the time to deal with whatever childish diva tendencies you’re developing.
- Not now, let her be.
- Y/N. - she tried to grab Y/N’s arm but Bucky got to her before she did, twisting her wrist with his metal arm before he could even realise what he was doing. He let go of her wrist, but still looked at her as if he was ready to kill her. Instincts die hard. - You are going to regret this, Barnes. And you, Y/N, get in that car now.
- No. - she meekly perked up.
- Excuse me?
- No. - she spoke out a little bit more strongly, forcefully grabbing her purse. - I am not going.
- You don’t get to ...
- Yes, I do. - she interrupted him. - I did not sign a contract which specifically mentioned what events I need to attend, just how many. As such, I am not going and if you try to stop me or try to touch me without my permission ever I will sue you for harassment and I don’t think having an affair with Mr. Hawthorne pays for the legal fees you’d have to pay.
- You will sue me? - she almost scoffed at the not so meek actress.
- My dad is a barrister and my siblings are all lawyers. I have more knowledge of law and suing than you ever did and ever will.
- You wanna call the shots now, tots? - she rolled her eyes before stepping back. - Okay.
Y/N remained behind suspicious of why it had been so easy to get rid of her but decided not to dwell on it. Bucky too was unsuspicious but was more worried about Y/N. She wrapped her hand against his, kissing his shoulder as the two watched Ms. Olson’s car leave along with her car. Typical. Of course she took her car.
- It’ll be fine, right? - she questioned looking up.
- If everything goes to hell, we’ll move to a private dessert island and start there.
- Let’s just go home. - she breathed out. - Let’s just forget new year’s eve.
- It’s a lousy date anyway.
- Yeah. Why are we celebrating the sun rotating a full turn around Earth? It’s ridiculous.
Bucky was always happy to spend alone time with her and while part of him wanted to ask what had triggered her panic attack, he let her have her space. The two of them just sat on the couch, his head on her lap as she played with his hair, some old movie he liked to watch back in the 40s. The year went by and a new one began. At the beginning of the year, he wouldn’t have believe he’d end up here, with her, with the woman he loved, engaged. It was almost too good to be truth and sometimes Bucky wondered if he had been knocked unconscious during a mission and this was all his mind giving him what he always wanted. She had fallen asleep, having laid down next to him.
The morning peeked into his apartment and as per usual he was the first one up, tidying the place up and even putting some flowers up for when she woke up. Y/N loved flowers and so he had made it his mission to ensure she always woke up to new ones. “This is going to make you broke” she would tell him, but he didn’t care. If he had to spend his last days buying fresh roses every morning for the woman he loved then he was going to do it. He leaned against the fridge, drinking his coffee as he did each morning until his phone rang. He clumsily tried to answer it before it could wake up Y/N. Damned IPhone and damned Sam Wilson who made him switch from his razor phone.
- Barnes. - he answered.
- Mr. Barnes, it’s Agent Cox. We have an assignment for you.
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#sebastian stan#sebastian stan/reader#sebastian stan x reader#sebastian stan/you#sebastian stan x you#sebastian stan/y/n#sebastian stan x y/n#sebastian stan imagine#sebastian stan drabble#sebastian stan au#sebastian stan fanfic#bucky#bucky barnes#bucky x reader#bucky/reader#bucky x you#bucky/you#bucky x y/n#bucky/y/n#bucky imagine#bucky au#bucky fanfic#bodyguard!bucky barnes#bodyguard!bucky
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