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burnedbyshoto · 3 years

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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.

“Kirishima?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

But he was obviously not the first choice still.

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

“Toshinori—”

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

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

He had barely passed the admittance test.

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

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

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

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

“I can do it.”

A smile.

“Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were tiny.

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

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

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

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

“Six months tops.”

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

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

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

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

“...no,” Kirishima answers truthfully.

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

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

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

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

Fuck, that one hurt.

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

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

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

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

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

“Six months,” Kirishima agreed.

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

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

“You got it.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, yes, let’s continue.”

So, the contract was discussed to full detail.

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

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

Or so the contract said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, so much for a good case.

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

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

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

You always managed to sneak away from him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ya, okay, bye!”

“By—”

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

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

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

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

He wanted to be just a fan.

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

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

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

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

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

“You know I can’t do that it’s not—”

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

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

And then there’s only silence.

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

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

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

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

He knew that.

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

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

You were a good person.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...how interesting.

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

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

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

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

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

“Very much.”

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

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

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

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

So much for change.

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

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

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

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

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

It had been a hard morning.

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

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

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

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

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

But today, Kirishima was exhausted.

Today, Kirishima wanted to sleep.

Today… Kirishima broke.

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

You ignore him.

“We’re leaving, now.”

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

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

He grabs your wrist and begins pulling you away.

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

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

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

Oh, right.

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

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

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

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

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

“Compromises aren’t—”

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

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

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

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

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

“Wh-”

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

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

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

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

And for a moment, it’s quiet.

Until a single name is screamed.

“SERGEANT!”

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

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

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

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

The van turns on.

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

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

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

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

T082-23

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

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

Well, shit.

So much for the month of no attacks.

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

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

But they also gave him an essential piece of information.

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

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

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

For now, he was waiting for you.

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

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

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

“Should we go?”

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

“I actually wanted to talk before we left.”

Oh?

“Of what, if I may ask?”

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

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

“Sure.”

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

The contract was then discussed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course, Kirishima.”

“Oh, and y/n?”

“Yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kirishima stood in the softly lit hallways of a sauna.

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

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

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

Well, everyone but Kirishima, that was.

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

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

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

A stressful month had passed into a friendlier one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I-If that’s okay?”

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

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

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

“No, I’m okay,” you politely decline.

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

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

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

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

“So, what questions do you have?”

“Hm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A pause.

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

A nod.

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

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

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

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

What had happened?

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

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

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

“Was that um, Major—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wasn’t made of glass.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

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

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

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

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

“PERVERT!”

“What?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, his dreams were never like this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kirishima stepped back out to the hot spring.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jenny, are you okay?” you called.

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

“We weren’t fucking you prude!”

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

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

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

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

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

What was he going to do now?

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

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

Bad, Kirishima, bad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That sounds amazing, Kimiko!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whoever it was, pfft.

Kirishima was willing to bet on who it was already.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something.

Anything.

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

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

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

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

He was going to.

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

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

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

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

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

“Ready to move out?”

“We’re all clear.”

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

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

“Damn right I will.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Such a brat.”

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

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

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

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

T082-23.

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

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

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

You really came to life right now.

You were beautiful.

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

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

He was here.

Every warning bell sounded in Kirishima’s head.

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

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

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

Wait.

“What?! Family member?!”

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

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

There was no way you wouldn’t.

Was he wrong?

Who was it?

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

Kirishima looked over at the lawyer who greeted a woman, who was also walking down the red carpet, a celebrity he could name no less, with a warm kiss.

Oh fuck.

He needed to call Kimiko; he was so very wrong.

You had won two awards so far, and at this very moment, Kirishima was being ushered back to his seat in the audience as you were being escorted to the main stage to perform your latest song. You had removed your gold dress for a black, sleek gown. Your lipstick changed to a dark red, and your hands trembled in the white lace gloves you wore.

“Oh, Kiri,” you wheezed almost, your hands shaking as the announcers on stage were announcing the last awards before your performance. “I’m getting nervous. What if I mess up or sing off-key? I’d be the laughing stock!”

Kirishima laughed gently, his hands easily encompassing your waist as he stilled your frantic moves. “Y/l/n y/n, if there is anything I know for sure about you is that you are one hell of a singer and a performer. The awards you’re nominated for tonight speak for themselves! You never fail at your performances, and even if you somehow manage to sing off-key, I’m sure that no one would notice! Your biggest fan in the world won’t notice, at least.”

Not more than seven days ago, when you had cried about the impending nerves of being an artist, Kirishima had come to claim the title of being your biggest fan in the world. It had made you chuckle through your tears before coming near a hysterical laugh as the two of you held each other close.

“You’re a nut, Kirishima Eijirou,” you laugh, hands resting on his lower ribs, but your smile was bright, warm. You paused a bit, fingers pulling at the fabric of his shirt. “I’ll sing just for you then, but I think I should take another swig of that soju.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Could you tell that Takeyama is completely drunk off her ass?”

“...she’s drunk?!”

“Exactly, I’ll be fine,” you breathe, taking a new smaller flask from the purse Kirishima was holding for you and taking the final swig. Your face contorts at the bitter liquid. “Ew, Kimiko really fucked me over with this one. Why is it blue?! Have you ever seen blue apple soju?!”

“No?” Kirishima startled, his eyes looking at the indeed splash of blue liquid tainting a small part of your gloves. “Who gave you that one? What happened with the other flask of yours?”

“Oh, Kimiko sent it along after I lost my other one; it’s her own flask,” you said before the backstage crew whisked you away to begin your set, and without you, Kirishima was sent to the audience.

Kirishima felt trapped as he was ushered into his seat, his eyes scanning the entire audience for something suspicious, a familiar face perhaps. His broad shoulders continued to bump into his neighbors, their disgruntled noises doing nothing to stop his worry.

“And now, Y/n,” came the strong voice of the male announcer, and the light dimmed.

Kirishima watched as the spotlight came down upon you, a golden halo of colors against your darkened gown as the instrumentals began to play in the background. And he saw you take a step forward, the building motifs suddenly silencing when you finally sang the first note.

Despite the panic arising in Kirishima, the unknown of who was behind it all, what was going to happen, he stilled at the unmatched strength and ambiance of your voice.

You sang as you did at every stage, to every audience.

There was a reason why you were considered a legend.

And then, with one last sound, one last melody, and your hand holding your microphone dropped. Your chest heaving, tears falling down your face, and the roar of the audience was silent. You looked through the audience, unable to see, but for some reason, you just knew where Kirishima was.

You smile.

But as the looming sounds begin to fill your ear again, you find that the world is hazy.

You swallow, eyes unfocused as you bowed, hurrying to leave the stage.

Kirishima watched as you took a final stumbling step off the stage, something he felt was going to be written off as you stepped on your dress. But his mind whirled.

The lawyer felt like a setup; the contracts made no sense, the blue soju.

How were they related?

What connected them?

“Oh, fuck,” Kirishima whispered, horrified, and immediately his finger pressed to his earpiece. “Find Y/n! Now!”

Kirishima was racing through the back of the venue, the announcers' voices still ringing through the dirty, bleak hallways. You had just won but was written off as being somewhere backstage; after all, the show must go on.

Voices screamed in his earpiece, each declining to have found you. No one had seen you after you stepped off the stage. No one knew who had taken you.

Kirishima noticed the doors closing at the end of the hallway, and with a dreading sense of doom, Kirishima removed the gun from his harness. And with the devil on his heels, he ran.

Kirishima panted as he looked before him.

You were passed out, draped limp, confused, and woozy against Kimiko’s body, and two men knocked unconscious beside them. To anyone else, it looked as if Kimiko had saved you, some guardian angel within this world, but if Kirishima’s gut meant anything, he knew better.

“Kirishima-san!’ Kimiko squeaked as Kirishima raised his gun, his body tense, unwilling to take a chance on her. “I don’t know what those two were doing! I was saving her, I swear!”

“Don’t do this, Kimiko,” Kirishima whispered, his head shaking. “I figured it out.”

There was a shift in Kimiko’s face at that; the scared unknowing hero melted into one of anger, resentment, one of someone who knew they had been outed.

“So, you figured it out,” she bitterly spoke, her arms that were supporting you from behind revealing to be a firearm of your own. “I didn’t expect you to.”

“I can’t say I figured out your reasoning; honestly, it doesn’t make sense to me, but I felt like it was you,” Kirishima carefully states, his heart roaring at the implied danger of the firearm against your chin. “Don’t do anything stupid, Kimiko.”

Kimiko stares, her lips forming a small o before changing into one of a large, near unattached grin.

“Anything stupid? If anyone is doing anything stupid, it's this selfish prick!” Kimiko spits, her arms tightening around you, making you whimper ever so gently in pain. “She thinks she’s so great, so rich, so smart! Just because she wastes most of her money on stupid shit like charity! Everyone thinks working for her is a dream, but they’re all blind idiots!”

Kirishima’s eyes widen as he notices the glazed, unfocused of your eyes as you shift your attention over to him. Were you listening?

“What’s wrong with the contract?” he asks, a small attempt to diffuse the situation.

“The fact she pays me next to nothing, and yet she works me half to death!”

“You have multiple clients, don’t you?” Kirishima splutters, unsure as to what was wrong. “Why is this one contract so important you wanted to frame her lawyer?!”

Kimiko laughs; it’s pitchy, almost hysterical as she bends over, your body slumping further onto the floor. “That was a lie! All a fucking lie! Do you know that I knew no one when I first started? Y/n is a name everyone wants. I don’t need to do anything to get her things! The world wants her! But the other clients? None of them stayed, none of them wanted me past a month! The salary was okay when she was a snot-nosed brat, but ten years later?! NO! She won’t fucking listen. She never fucking listens to anything but herself! So she has the option to give me the eighty percent, or fucking die here!”

Suddenly the gun in Kirishima’s hand feels like a ton, the skin on the back of his neck crawling and slicking with sweat.

“You know how much those charities mean to her,” Kirishima whispers. “She won’t do it.”

Kimiko trembles for a second, her arm holding the firearm lowering as she looks at the wall, shaking.

“Oh my god… you’re right,” Kimiko realizes, horror and uncertainty flashing across her face. “I guess… she has to die, oh my god, she has to die.”

At that moment, the world slowed down, and Kirishima swore he could see the atoms, the electricity flowing through the space between them. Kimiko’s arm holding the gun raising back up to your temple, her smile detached, horrific yet gleeful.

His body trembled as he doubted himself, his mind unsure if the finger on the trigger was going to be strong enough to fire away. Could he do it?

Was he ready?

Actually ready?

Save her, his past whispered.

Save her, his nightmares screamed.

Save her, his heart yelled.

Kirishima raised his arm, his focus blaring, his past just for a moment, forgotten.

BANG!

“The effects of the rohypnol have already worn out. Thankfully she wasn’t given a whole pill. If she experiences any nausea or throws up, please bring her back, should anything else happen, she’ll be okay.”

The words of the doctor rang in Kirishima’s ears. For tonight, they were going to be discharging you to him. Thankfully, it was all happening in Tokyo, so Kirishima’s apartment was near, and if Bakugou was true to his word, it was clean.

With the help of hospital security, he had managed to get your tuxedo concealed body into a car, and the two of you rode off to his apartment. You’ve been silent the entire time, eyes downcasted as you sit pressed to his side, feeling like a small child compared to him. You knew that he was much larger than you, a near two feet taller, but this felt unmatched.

Kirishima’s jacket was warm around you, it’s sheer largeness another dress on your body, and despite the horrific turn of events, you were feeling warm. You couldn’t remember much of what transpired after stumbling off stage, but you did remember Kirishima bursting through the doors, a look of anger and fear blistering off his person in such a way that made you whimper when you remembered.

You remembered the onsen basically every night, cursing your stupid makeup team for interrupting a night that definitely would have ended with you fucking Kirishima. You cursed yourself for being a coward and not just saying fuck it and fucking him afterward despite the brief awkwardness.

He wanted you, it was clear as day, and you wanted him as well.

Tonight.

“Sorry about how small my apartment is, or if it’s messy, I don’t actually know if my friends have been keeping up with it,” Kirishima apologized, guiding you into the apartment by the small of your back. “You’ll be safe here tonight, and I promise we can get back to your own place tomorrow!”

“Oh, don’t apologize, it’s okay,” you smile, feeling flushed as you cross the entryway to the apartment. His apartment, despite not being home in so long, is clean. The halls aren’t messy, and a hint of lavender is saturated to the air. The dim hallway lights were barely bright enough to cause you to squint as it was dark out. “Thank you for having me tonight, especially after everything.”

At the hospital, you had been given a pair of sweats and a cotton t-shirt. The change in outfit from your event dress was definitely needed, and even though you were sure your makeup was streaked down your face, you felt good hidden in the depths of Kirishima’s jacket.

“Are you hungry?” Kirishima asked, handing over his guest slippers, which you gratefully accepted. “I might have some microwaveable food leftover.”

“Ramen doesn’t sound too bad,” you admit as Kirishima unbuttons the first few buttons on his white dress shirt. You were instantly captivated by the movement, your eyes shifting back to his face when he began to walk off towards the kitchen.

Kirishima talked warmly, keeping the conversation going merrily and bright throughout the entire time in the kitchen. He undoubtedly knew you weren’t entirely okay, and at moments like this, you were entirely grateful for his sweet personality.

To be fair, you knew that you had been quite unfair to Kirishima in the beginning. Looking back at the first entire month of knowing him, you were horrified and impressed that Kirishima didn’t demand to be dropped. You had been selfish, stubborn, a bottom line brat, and he took it day after day. It wasn’t that you disliked him back then; hell, you had been in a near state of delirium when he entered the door during your first meeting because you had no idea such huge men existed to the caliber of his hotness.

But you resisted and might have been harsher than needed.

It was okay now; after all, if he was genuinely bitter about that entire month still, the onsen said otherwise.

It didn’t take long for your stomach to be filled with warm broth, soft boiled eggs, and ramen noodles. Kirishima did, in fact, have ramen, fresh eggs, and some vegetables. In a grand act of preparing you the most sufficient dinner he could, Kirishima presented this under budget ramen and laughed when you said it was terrific.

But it was growing late.

The two of you still sat at his table that was full of a card game, your empty ramen bowls, and cups of water. The clock on the oven read 23:38, and the city lights were slowly dying.

“Are you ready for bed?” Kirishima eventually asked you.

You looked up from your joined hands; your fingers had been playing with his thick and long fingers for some time now. The apartment grew steadily quieter as you studied and attempted to memorize each callous and scar on his hands. They were definitely marked and nicked, the sign of the warrior he once was.

“Depends on the bed,” you tease, lips rising into a small smile as you compare your much tinier hands than his. Your fingertips barely passed the edge of his palm. “What does a big guy like you sleep in? A twin? Tatami mat?”

Kirishima laughed, his hands twisting in yours, wrapping it around so that he raised your hands up to press a kiss to the center of your palms.

“A futon, brat,” Kirishima explained, his smile small but sharp with his humor. “Let’s get you to bed?”

You frown.

“Where will you be sleeping then?”

“My couch is just fine.”

“I’m sure your stuffing in a trash bag had holes in it.”

“That’s okay,” Kirishima laughed, standing up and quickly taking you to your feet as well. “It’s just for a night, I’ll live.”

Your face warmed immediately as he guided you down the hallway of his apartment before finally coming into what was definitely his room.

Kirishima’s scent was faint in this room, cinnamon, wood, and warm spices. It made your eyes flutter as you observed his room from the entryway as he began to set up the room.

His eye for interior decoration was quite… different. You smiled brightly as you glanced around; the diverse and rather boyish decorations around the room warmed your heart. It seemed exactly like what you would think of for Kirishima.

“Well, that’s all!” Kirishima exclaimed, his hands landing on his hips in triumph as he looked around. “The bathroom is the next door over, and I’ll leave a toothbrush out for you. I also left out a new t-shirt of mine if you want to change!”

You nod some more, watching as Kirishima seems unsure of what to do next. He looks around, coughs a bit before nodding.

“Okay, I’ll be leaving—”

“Um, can we talk?” you interrupt, arms wrapping around your body. “I have some things I want to say.”

“Oh, sure!”

“You can sit,” you say, motioning toward the bed. “I have a few things to get off my chest.”

Kirishima pauses for a bit, his eyes looking you over before he eventually nods, and he sits down. The bed slightly creaks under his weight, and you feel your body warm-up at the sound. You want to hear the bed creak more, to rock under the weight of you and him pressed against the sheets as you cried his name.

“What is it?” he asks gently, observing you.

“I just…” you huff, words failing you, your tongue feeling heavy. “I wanted to say thank you for saving me.”

“It was my job to do that,” Kirishima smiled warmly, his arms crossing again.

He was relaxed.

“I mean, I can’t even begin to believe that it was Kimiko who was behind all that, even though we know it was… I know it was,” you trail off, shivering slightly as you remember your ex-managers demented laugh in your ear. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“Nothing would’ve happened to you,” Kirishima spoke with finality. “I promised to myself at the first meeting I was going to protect you, hell the entire world would. You’re not going to be taken down by pathetic people like that, not you.”

“Really?”

“One hundred percent.”

“I feel like I should repay you in some way, though,” you rub the back of your neck, eyes fluttering just the slightest bit flirtatious. Kirishima looked at you with full mooned eyes, his arms unfolding and his palms resting onto the bedspread.

“You repay me plenty already,” came his whispered answer, so quiet, so pure you almost smiled. “You don’t have to do anything.”

Your tongue pushes past your lip, wetting the drying skin as you take a step toward him. The shoulders of the jacket slowly fall from your own shoulders, pooling just above your elbows as you stop before him, hands resting daintily on his broad shoulders.

“And what if I want something?” you ask, finding yourself stemming with energy as his legs part, allowing you closer access to him.

You step in closer and closer until your outer thighs are ghosting against the inner part of his.

“I think it’s in our contract for me to do everything that you request if I remember correctly,” Kirishima whispers, his bright clear red eyes turning a burnt shade: dark and ever consuming.

“And if I want you to finish what you started over at the onsen?” you press, fingers curling against the muscles of his shoulders before locking behind his neck.

His nose was brushing against yours, cold yet burning against your own skin.

“I’ll gladly show you what I wanted to do that night,” he grunts, eyes deadly, and for the first time, his hands held your waist.

You took a second to recover, your skin sparking with the electricity of his touch, and you suppressed a shiver as you opened your eyes.

“Do it,” you cement your fates, “coward.”

And just like that, in a movement so euphoric, Kirishima’s mouth crashed against yours.

His mouth was hot, dangerous against yours -- a live wire sparking with uncontrollable energy and heat as your mouths danced. Hot puffs of air were passed between your mouths, your fingers shaking with an undeniable release of tension and want.

The kiss was sloppy, desperate, so needy with unspoken frantic determination to fuck each other until the other could no longer move.

Kirishima’s hand removed the jacket from your arms, letting the expensive material fall onto the floor with a heavy thud. Despite the lack of warmth the clothing provided, the feeling of Kirishima’s hands rubbing against your bare arms sent your mind spiraling.

“Get on the bed,” Kirishima commands against your mouth. “Let me fuck you.”

The words were nearly embarrassingly desperate, but the tone of his voice spoke of the absolute domination he wished to assert on you. He wanted you in one exact way, and you had a feeling you knew what it was. But if he had been paying attention, Kirishima should already know that getting you to listen was not easy.

“No,” you grin against his mouth.

Kirishima pulls away instantly, his lips red and swollen as he replays your word in his head. He looks frazzled, absolutely delirious already at the simple, passion-filled makeout. As soon as his eyes clear away the fog, your grin drops, and instead, you look at him with fierce determination and defiance.

“No?” he repeats.

“No,” you confirm.

Your chest feels light, your head spinning as the hands on your waist tighten, and his eyes flash dangerously. The tip of his tongue pushes past his lips before quickly disappearing again.

“Of course, you’re a brat in bed too, such a fucking princess,” Kirishima shakes his head, but his mouth curving into a shark-like grin.

Menacing, promising, sending chilling shivers down your spine.

The world spins faster than you can keep up, your mouth opening to shriek as Kirishima easily lifts you up, and has you lying against his lap.

“I’m going to let you in on a little secret, princess,” Kirishima begins, his large fingers hooking into the waistband of the sweats you have on and the panties you’re wearing. “My princess gets rewards for being good. If she can behave properly, she gets to be fucked with dick, her pussy gets to be fucked just the way she pleases.”

You can’t help but stifle a moan that threatens to spill out with his words and the way his hands move down the curve of your ass, exposing the naked skin to him. The waistband of both your panties and sweats stay high up your thighs, and it’s almost embarrassing to know you’re still so clothed despite what’s to come.

“And just what does the Sergeant do to bad girls?” you ask, unable to keep your tongue down, your hips rolling against his lap in undeserved friction.

Unexpectedly, abruptly, a hand comes down harshly onto your bare ass.

The contact is rough, stinging against your ass as you cry out in slight pain.

The hand not currently rubbing a warning circle into your ass twists the hair at the top of your head, lifting your head up so that your ear could near his mouth.

“Bad girls get punishments. They get what I want to give them. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Holy shit,” you whimper, heat flaring between your thighs at the thought of Kirishima doing anything to you regardless of if you were good or bad. You rut your ass back against his hand, longing for a heavier touch, a plea for something more.

“What does the princess want?”

“Nothing,” you bite, and the crashing smack of another spank has you moaning loudly at the stinging pleasure-filled pain.

“You moaning like a whore at a simple spank says otherwise,” Kirishima chuckles darkly, his fingers pinching your stinging ass as your body bucks against him. He spanks you again, again, and again. Each slap is intentful, powerful, wanting to get you to admit what you want, and you cry against your hands each time, your eyes fluttering as the pain feels good.

“Of course, a slut like you would be getting off on this,” Kirishima seems amused, his thick finger pressing to the slit of your cunt, spreading your dripping essence against your cunt. He presses against your entrance with just the tip of his finger, and you shriek in a sound for more, your hips jerking backward to get his finger into you, to fuck you with those thick fingers to do something about the growing desperate heat.

“Kirishima!” you scream, your body sweating and twisting on his lap, desperate to find some way to get him to finger fuck you.

“Ah, there we go,” he sighs in delight as his fingers swirl at your entrance, increasing the teasing and making your mind spin. “Tell me what you want, brat.”

“You!” you wail, two of his fingers carting between your wet, sloppy heated lips. They graze your clit, stimulating you further as you can do nothing but instinctively jerk against his hold, trying to get him to give you the needed pleasure to build up to an orgasm. “I want you to fuck me so good! Please, Sergeant, please, I want you to fuck me until I can’t remember anything but your name.”

“But you haven’t proven to be a good princess,” Kirishima tuts, his hands disappearing from your pussy despite your crying pleas. His hand grabs your ass, though, massaging the abused skin, grasping it tightly.

You moan, embarrassed at the sensation of his massive hand easily cupping your ass cheek, your fingers fisting into the fabric of his pants as you shake your head.

“Are you going to prove that you’re good?” he asks you, his tone like that of a parent chastising a child. “Gonna prove to me that you can be good?”

You shake pathetically against his legs, but you can’t keep yourself from shaking your head. You can’t prove to him that you would be.

“I can’t!” you whimper loudly, your body twisting on his lap to look up at him, your eyes filled with tears and pleading need. Kirishima looked down at you with lust filled eyes and an undeniable need to be followed.

“You can’t?” he repeats, his head tilting, eyes narrowing, and his fingers dug into your ass. “Or you won’t?”

You tremble on top of him, unable to answer because you weren’t ready to hand over the reins just yet. You didn’t want to submit so fast, you wanted to make his own head dizzy with need but the stubbornness to continue punishing you the way he was promising.

“I won’t,” you gasp, eyes fluttering at the way he finally drops your head.

You gasp loudly as you find him shoving you off his lap, and with your panties and sweats sitting so awkwardly high on your legs, you find yourself tumbling off his lap and onto the floor.

“Guess if you don’t want to behave, I’ll treat you like some fucking pussy pocket and dispose of you once I’m done,” Kirishima easily breathes, and you look up at the now standing man as he tears his shirt off.

Your mouth waters, your cunt throbbing at the sight of the rippling muscles and dark lines of his tattoos on his upper body. You watch fascinated, like one does to a masterpiece, as he undresses until he’s in nothing but his socks. And at the sight of his dick, you can feel at once all the blood in your flushed face drop directly into your throbbing cunt.

He was fucking enormous, his girth barely fitting into his hand, and the angry red head spilled its precum against his abs. A black happy trail connecting Kirishima’s abs to his vein throbbing cock.

Holy fuck, he could quickly kill you with that.

Kirishima doesn’t ask any questions as he watches your awkwardly dressed state of a body on the floor. His head is tilted upwards, a small pleased smile on his face as he looks down on you, his hand slowly, leisurely fisting his cock as you can do nothing but stare.

You make some insane noise at the back of your throat at this sight, your thighs trembling with need, and you're pushing off your side, your ass burning, and your balance off as you open your mouth, offering all you could to him.

And thankfully, Kirishima allows it.

He’s much too tall for you to suck him off on your knees, so he sits back down onto the bed, letting you scamper between his legs, mouth open wide like some needy pet.

“Such a good little slut,” Kirishima sighs, sinking his cock into your wet, hot mouth. “Such a fucking cockwhore, all it took was a single glance for you to lose your will.”

You whine against his dick, your jaw tight with the stretch, your tongue lapping so desperately around the cock that was no more than halfway in yet couldn’t go in any further.

“Suck me right, and I’ll reward you by fucking that pretty little pussy of yours,” Kirishima grunts, his fingers pressing into the side of your neck as he ruts his hips up into your mouth, shoving his cock even further into your mouth. “And don’t you dare look away from me while you suck me off.”

It feels like fire.

His cock driving down your throat hurts, the taste of his salty pre-cum slathering all over your tongue and dripping out of your mouth with the saliva you can’t control. His cock hits the back of your throat, and you continue to bob your head, continue to fuck him with your throat as animalistic, praiseworthy noises begin spilling from Kirishima’s mouth.

You whimper at the sight of his head dipping back, and you nearly whine when he shoves the fingers he had gathered your juices on into his mouth. He moans at the contact and with his pleasure with your actions so obvious as you choke against his girth. That was hot, holy fuck, you wanted him to fuck you, please fuck you.

Your eyes close as he begins to fuck faster into your mouth, his delight in hearing you choke around him his driving force. Tears start pouring from your eyes despite your best efforts, your throat and inner thighs burning with lust and need as Kirishima groans, his cock twitching deep in your throat.

Slap!

“Hey!”

Slap!

You gag harshly as your cheeks sting with his heavy slap, your teeth grazing underneath his cock, right against a thick, twisting vein.

“Did I tell you to close your eyes?” Kirishima practically growls, his hands grasping the back of your neck, the other one slapping you across the face yet again. “No. I said… fuck… I said, keep your eyes on me!”

Tears weep down your face, your eyes struggling to keep focus on him as he continued to fuck deep and intensely into your mouth, shoving himself further into you until you could feel his thighs grazing your chin. Oxygen wasn’t flowing anymore; your gags and chokes the only time the burning element could manage to flow through you, but Kirishima doesn’t seem to care. He seems to delight in the way you are, despite it all, are moaning and looking at him in a pleading way for more.

More, you plead.

And he delivers.

Kirishima pulls his still hard, not yet cummed, dick out of your mouth and stands.

You splutter with the sudden intake of oxygen to your lungs, burning you from the inside out as you splutter on the ground.

“W-What’s going on?” you hoarsely stammer, your jaw and throat aching from its prolonged abuse. “E-Ei?”

However, Kirishima seems dead set on getting you naked, and you squeal in flustered excitement as he rips the shirt off of you and his mouth pressing against yours again. His mouth crashes against yours, and you moan into his mouth immediately.

His tongue curls into your mouth and your tongues press and rub against each other. Each passing second growing more desperate, needier, more intense as your clothes are ripped one by one off your body.

“Holy fuck, I’ve wanted you for so long,” Kirishima nearly whines, his mouth trailing down your neck, biting and sucking against every centimeter of skin he passed. “Wanted to fuck you against the wall, in my bed, and now I get to do that.”

“Please, please, fuck me, please,” you beg, your voice bordering a wail as your arms wrap around his neck, letting him lift you up off the floor. Despite you being so much smaller than him that when he held you to him, your cunt wasn’t pressed to his angry leaking cock, you continued to desperately roll your hips against his abs, the friction welcomed and easing the building pressure. It was an action conveying just what you wanted. “I need you in me, Sergeant!”

“Just cuz… holy fuck,” Kirishima breathes ragged, his body twisting around, and you cried when the cold sheets pressed into your back. “Imma fuck you, Imma… god, just fucking watch.”

Your head thrashed back onto the pillow as Kirishima’s teeth sunk into your collarbone, then captured your sensitive nipples, his fingers dancing against your clit and teasing your center.

“Now!” you cry, fingers digging into his shoulder. “Put it in!”

This time, Kirishima didn’t need to be told twice.

His larger body was suddenly pressed entirely against yours, dwarfing you immediately as your arms wrapped around his back as his cock slammed into you. You screamed at the sudden intrusion, your pussy stretched beyond its typical limits by his girth, his size, his power.

Your cunt throbbed around him, your face buried within his pecs as you, despite the searing pain, shove your hips up towards him. Fucking into him, sucking him further into you.

“Holy shit,” Kirishima groans, “you’re amazing.”

“Talk less, fuck me more!” you screech, your body spasming, twitching so hard from the splitting pleasure and the lava pit in your stomach, and Kirishima does that exactly.

His hips begin to meet yours in equaled power, slamming into you so that the bed creaked beneath you. He fucked you until he had to hold a hand on your hip so you could stay there, and you kept a hand on the wall to continue to push yourself down onto his cock.

You screamed with pleasure, cried for more, Kirishima’s shark-like smirk getting bolder, darker, hotter with every slam of his hips until his tattooed right arm shot down. His hand wrapped around your throat, choking you.

“You’re so loud, princess,” Kirishima moans, clearly liking your loud noises, “but you’re going to wake everyone in Tokyo.”

His hand around your throat is enough to have your legs trembling around his waist, your choked and muffled moans and splutters drowning out even more as he pressed a kiss onto you. He kissed you, licking your mouth, and devouring your every word and thought. Your core twisted, tightened, and burned. It throbbed and clenched with it’s impending orgasm, and your body began to tense to the heavens as his cock throbbed deep within you.

“Who saved you?”

“E-Ei did,” you garble.

“Who’s fucking you?”

“E-Ei is!”

“Who’s going to fucking cum when I tell her to?”

“Me! Fuck, me!”

Kirishima laughs, his arms wrapping around your waist, and in one final, fleeting burst of strength, fucks into you with his own power, needs, and desire, and you can only take it. “Cum, princess,” he whispered almost sweetly against the top of your head, and it was all over. Your teeth sink into his chest as you scream, a blinding white light erupting through your vision as you cum around his cock.

Kirishima whimpers, his cock still pushing deep into your cunt, until you can feel the warm spill of his seed in your womb.

He collapses to the side of you, taking you with him so that you were resting on his sweaty chest.

“Holy shit,” Kirishima whispered after a bit, your body already warm and too lethargic to notice the star-like tone to his voice. “That was fucking… holy shit.”

“Does this mean you like me?” you half tease, half wonder.

There’s a pause, a silence, and you wonder if maybe he had fallen asleep.

But he didn’t.

“I’ve been in love with you for some time now, I think,” he admits, his hand beginning to rub small circles into your back.

You find that despite the exhaustion, warmth floods your cheeks.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I guess we’re going to have to discuss a more… permanent and maybe different contract tomorrow morning, huh?”

Kirishima chuckles, and you find yourself smiling into his chest.

“I think we do.”

#kirishima x reader #kirishima smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha

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andypantsx3 · 3 years

Text

statistically significant | 1 | bakugou/reader

length: 23,490 words | 7 chapters

summary: You’re the scientist who developed a neural net to model the value of assists. Now that your work is feeding into the hero rankings, pro hero Ground Zero has a bone to pick with your results.

tags: romance, enemies to lovers, sexual tension, reader-insert

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut, m/f threats of violence, problematic behavior

note: I cannot overemphasize that this interpretation of Bakugou is based on season 1 Bakugou, which means he behaves very questionably at the beginning. Please heed the warnings!

Last year

You had been ferreting snacks out of the Hero Awards when he found you.

In retrospect, the whole idea of attending the Hero Awards had been a bad one from the get go. You’d just been so thrilled by the image of it in your head--getting to see all your favorite pros gathered in one place, dressed to the nines, celebrating their rankings, their wins, their saves, their successes. You’d pictured yourself flitting between heroes, collecting autographs and taking selfies, sitting down at a table with big names like Uravity and Froppy, making fast friends over the complimentary champagne.

But then you’d seen what really went into preparing for and attending an event like this, and the shine had quickly rubbed off.

When your boss at the Commission had extended you the invite, she’d told you that you would be representing the organization, and had advised you to contract a makeup artist and find someone willing to dress you. Her tone had strongly implied that this was more of an order than a suggestion. So you’d done it, but nobody had told you exactly how many hours went into getting your makeup tested, getting fitted and refitted for a dress, and fielding questions on cut, colors, fabrics, and fit.

By the time the Awards rolled around, you’d lost upwards of forty excruciating hours of your life to preparations, and had developed some kind of anxiety-induced Pavlovian response to the modiste’s name on your phone screen, where you immediately wanted to leap into the nearest storage closet and hide. And none of this was even counting the five full hours you spent on the day of the awards getting primped and polished within an inch of your life, then stuffed into some ridiculous scrap of fabric that threatened to fall off of you if you so much as breathed wrong.

By the time the stylists and makeup artist had finished with you, you were starved, cranky, and nursing a small migraine from how enthusiastic the hairdresser had been with you. You’d thought, though, that you would finally be able to enjoy yourself now that the worst was over. All there was left was to attend the ceremony, and get to see all your favorite heroes.

And for an hour or two, the Hero Awards had been just as cool as expected. You lingered on the fringes of the red carpet, gawking as pros like Chargebolt and Pinky swanned their way down the walkway, looking even cooler in real life than they looked on TV. Everyone had clearly gone all out, and they looked unbelievably good, either inhumanly beautiful or inhumanly intimidating. You had been utterly transfixed, as evidenced by the inordinate amount of time you spent accidentally staring at Todoroki Shouto as he gave an interview to the side of the walkway, looking absolutely unreal as he leaned over to speak to the reporter.

When you’d finally managed to snap out of your trance, you’d remembered to cut a beeline for the snack table, and had set about stuffing as many snacks into your dress as you could manage. And that’s where the trouble really started.

The invite to the Awards had come with the option for a very fancy multi-course dinner that you could have chosen. Instead, you’d taken one look at the price and laughed yourself sick, before resolving to sneak a bunch of the free snacks into your dress to keep you occupied during the ceremony. The problem was, the scrap of fabric the modiste had insisted was a dress was so obnoxiously flimsy and could only hold so many snacks.

If your dress had been able to hold a reasonable number of snacks, you wouldn’t have needed to sneak back out to the snack table during the presentation, and he would have never had a chance to catch you on your own. But the dress was lacking snack utility, and so you had gone back out for more.

You kept low in the aisle as you crept out of the darkened theater, keeping a hand over your chest so you didn’t spill out of the thin fabric of your dress, and emerged into the reception hall, where you were almost blinded by the harsh light. You stood for a minute, blinking the spots out of your vision, and touched a hand to your eyes, careful not to smear any of your eyeliner.

And that’s when he struck.

Almost as soon as you raised your hand, a rough hand seized your wrist, wrenching your arm down. A heavy arm went around you quickly, trapping both your arms to your sides, and you barely had time to let out a squeak before a calloused hand clapped over your mouth. Your feet left the floor, and then you were being dragged through a side door into the stairwell.

You twisted wildly, kicking out, trying to catch the wall or the railing to push off of and throw your assailant off balance, but he was strong, and clearly well-versed in combat, as he kept you well away from anything you could use to your advantage. He hauled you out into the stairwell, but instead of heading down the stairs, he moved towards the corner. To your surprise, he tossed you unceremoniously against the wall, letting you go.

You caught yourself on the rough stone and whirled around, only to reel back in shock when you caught sight of your assailant.

Bakugou Katsuki, perhaps better known as pro hero Ground Zero, leaned over you, trapping you against the wall with an arm on either side of you. He, like all the other heroes you’d caught sight of today, looked almost unreal in person, but in stark contrast to all the others, his handsome face was twisted up in unmistakeable fury, blood-red eyes bright with violence and white teeth bared in a silent snarl. Even under the thick fabric of his suit, you could see the hard lines of his body were taught with aggression, and it was all you could do to not shrink back against the cold stone of the wall.

“So,” he snarled, leaning in to put his face close to yours, “you’re the fucking statistics nerd.”

You gaped at him, mouth falling open. Your professional title was data scientist, but statistics nerd was a close enough descriptor that you could tell he knew who you were. Your brows went up, wondering why in the world Ground Zero knew you.

“E-excuse me?” you managed. Your brain rapidly kicked into high gear, running through possible reasons why he would know you, what he could possibly want with you.

Bakugou snarled. “What the fuck is your problem with me?”

You stared at him. Problem with him? Other than the fact that he’d just seized you with no warning and dragged you into a stairwell, you had no problem with him. You’d never even met him--what the hell was he talking about?

“Uh, do you maybe have me confused with someone else?” you asked, trying to shift out from under his arm. Maybe there was another data scientist milling around in the crowds that he’d meant to get his hands on instead.

Bakugou’s red eyes narrowed, and he put a hand to your abdomen to press you firmly back to the wall. “Oh no. You’re not getting out of this, you little brat. Fucking fix it.”

You eyed him warily, checking him for signs of a head injury, wandering over his shock of blonde hair and noting the size of his pupils. Maybe Bakugou had been out on assignment just before the Awards, and hadn’t stopped to get his injuries checked out before coming here. A blow to the head would explain why he was behaving so strangely, and asking for weird stuff.

“Fix what?” you asked, frowning when you couldn’t spot the signs of a concussion on him. His gaze seemed all too focused, all too intent. It was nerve-wracking, actually. You’d heard of his reputation for intensity before, but it was one thing to hear it and another entirely to have all that intensity trained on you.

Bakugou bared his teeth and leaned closer. “Your fucking nerd-ass model. Fix it.”

You froze.

Oh.

Oh no.

Oh, this was about the model. You knew his bone to pick with the model.

The entire reason you’d received an invite to the Hero Awards in the first place was because of your work on the model that calculated the hero rankings. The model had existed for years before you had come along, but this year it was different.

You’d been hired a couple months ago by the Public Safety Hero Commission after you’d contacted them with an idea on how to finally calculate the value of field assists. You’d had a rough prototype of a neural network that you’d trained on video of multi-hero operations, tracking the movements of all the heroes on screen, and had developed an algorithm capable of assigning point values to moves that contributed to but did not directly result in a win or a rescue.

The Commission couldn’t get their hands on your work fast enough, and after only a few months refining your neural net, it was hooked into the rankings model, and it had informed not only the choices for Rescue of the Year and Most Valuable Hero this year, but had entirely changed the hero rankings overall.

And Bakugou’s ranking had been very much affected.

Bakugou Katsuki was a hero very unlike the world had ever seen. Anyone could see from his stats alone that he was incredibly driven, supremely powerful, and almost unmatched by any other hero out there. A few years out from UA, he’d already entered the top ten and had been mere breaths away from the top three -- that is, until your model results had been released.

The thing about Bakugou was that he had a higher percentage of fight wins than any hero in recorded history. He came out on top of almost any situation he entered into, and had one of the highest villain capture stats and the highest villain kill stat as compared to any other hero at this point in their career. The problem was, the new model also now took into account assists, as well as applied slightly heavier weights to rescues, and as good as Bakugou was at winning fights, he was almost equally as terrible at helping others.

So when your model had been worked into the Hero Commission’s official ranking calculations, Bakugou had backslid to sit unhappily at rank number eight.

And apparently, he thought this meant you had a personal grudge.

“Okay, I understand you’re upset, but the results are the results,” you said, watching him carefully. “It’s got nothing to do with you personally.”

His expression darkened thunderously, and the hand on your abdomen grew notably hotter, a scent like gunpowder and burnt sugar rising in the stairwell. “Like hell it doesn’t. Fucking fix it.”

Your brow furrowed. How did regular people think models worked? “There’s no ‘fixing it’, Bakugou. That’s just how math works. If you have a problem with how assists and rescues are weighted then you can take it up with the Commission. I just trained the model with their recommendations, and the results are what they are.”

Bakugou apparently registered none of what you were saying. Rough fingers slid to your jaw, tipping your face up to him. “What is it that you wanted, you damn brat? Did you want to see me humiliated? Or maybe you wanted my attention?” His fingers dug into your jaw. “Well now you have it, you fucking harpy, so show me what you wanted with it.”

You gaped at him, unable to help the way your mouth hung open like a fish. Did he think you were blackmailing him? With a fucking statistical model? It was a matter of public record that Bakugou was smart--he was purportedly one of the brightest minds that had ever graced the profession of hero, with strategic skill and combat sense that was utterly unparalleled--so then why the hell was he being so dumb about this? Was he really so self-absorbed that he thought this whole thing was about him?

Your temper flared, rising like the slow heat that was building under his hands. “I know this might be news to you,” you said slowly, “but not everything is about you. The model I trained takes in video as its input, and calculates rankings based on recommended weighting criteria that the Hero Commission gave me themselves. There is no place for me to input my own biases or change the results, so if the output is something that you’re ashamed of, then maybe you should do better.”

Bakugou’s eyes brightened, narrowing on you with an intensity that made you want to curl into the wall. “Say that again, you little fuck.”

You held your ground, ignoring the dangerous way the scent of hot smoke sharpened, leaning forward to bare your own teeth. “Maybe you should do better, you self-centered asshole.”

You were close enough that you could see his pupils dilate with the challenge, like a predator catching sight of its prey. An unsettling grin made its way across his mouth. “I am going to make you wish you’d never even seen a calculator, you smug fucking nerd,” he said, leaning into you.

The scent of gunpowder burned in the back of your throat, and the hands on you flared alarmingly hot, before the door to the hall burst open, and a whirlwind of red and yellow tore into the stairwell.

“Heya Blasty,” a voice chirped, echoing on the stairs, “Found ya.”

The shock of golden yellow resolved itself into the lean figure of Kaminari Denki, aka pro hero Chargebolt. He quickly made his way to Bakugou’s side, seizing an elbow.

“I’m busy, fuckstick. Fuck off,” Bakugou growled.

A large hand reached over Bakugou’s other shoulder to pull him off you, a head of gelled red spikes materializing behind his back, and you blinked up at Kirishima Eijirou, also known as Red Riot.

“Sorry about him,” Kirishima smiled down at you warmly, in direct contrast to the way his fingers dug into Bakugou’s shoulder. His teeth looked incredibly sharp in person, but this fact somehow failed to detract from the warmth of his friendly expression. You blinked, stunned that you were being addressed by Red Riot.

“He’s been a little worked up since the results were released, but he’s harmless,” Kirishima explained, grunting a little as he jerked Bakugou away from you. Bakugou snarled and turned to his friend, a small volley of sparks lighting off of his palm.

“I said fuck off,” he growled.

You let out a choked laugh at the idea of Bakugou Katsuki being called harmless. Just this week he’d perfected a technique where he melted clean through concrete, and you’d seen the replay of him liquifying the side of a skyscraper on the news this morning as you’d been getting your makeup done.

“Harmless, right. Definitely felt that way,” you uttered as Kirishima struggled to get a grip on Bakugou.

“I’ll fucking show you harmless,” Bakugou spat, turning back to you, sparks crackling louder in his palm. Kirishima seized his chance quickly, getting a bulky arm around Bakugou’s chest and lifting him straight off the ground. Bakugou snarled and gripped Kirishima’s forearm, letting off an explosion that would have blown anyone else’s arm clean off, but Kirishima just laughed, ignoring that the sleeve of his suit had caught fire, and hauled Bakugou back through the door.

A litany of swears filtered back through the door before it swung shut again.

Kaminari turned to face you, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry about that. We didn’t realize he was gonna come after you like that, though I don’t think he would have actually done anything. He’s pretty much all talk.”

You waved a hand, still stunned that Chargebolt was speaking to you.

“Uh, it’s okay,” you said. “I just...didn’t expect that kind of a reaction.”

Kaminari chuckled. “He’s usually a little more chill these days--I think he’s just pissed he’s losing to Midoriya now.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “I gotta say, though, he was even more worked up than I expected when we got here. What did you say to him?”

You grimaced, thinking back on the tense conversation. “That if he was ashamed of his ranking, he should do better.”

Kaminari choked. “Oh fuck, he must have been pissed,” he managed, before dissolving into peals of laughter. “Do better. No wonder he looked like he was gonna give himself a hernia. Mina’s gonna wet herself when I tell her.”

You shifted uncomfortably. “He thinks I altered the results to get his attention.”

Kaminari’s chuckles tapered off as he set a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Oh, he’s just saying that. He knows he’s shit at assists. He’s just salty he’s actually gotta do something about it if he wants to be number one.”

You thought back to the feeling of that hard body pressing you up against the wall, the disdain that had twisted his handsome face, the burning heat that had built up under his palms. A shiver went down your spine. It had seemed like he was a little more than salty, but if that’s how his friend wanted to put it, then fine.

“Well, thanks for the save anyway,” you said, giving Kaminari a little smile. “I’d definitely give you and Kirishima Rescue of the Year if I was pre-determining my results.”

Kaminari laughed, turning back to the door that Kirishima had dragged Bakugou through. As if on cue, a small boom sent the door swinging open a little. “Speaking of which, I’d better get back to make sure I don’t have to rescue the rescuer.”

He gave you a casual wave, then crossed to the door quickly. He hesitated at the threshold, then peeked back over his shoulder at you.

“By the way,” he said. “You might want to take a look at your dress. I, um, think Bakugou may have gotten a little carried away.”

He disappeared before you could ask what he meant, but a quick glance down clarified soon enough. Right on your abdomen, where Bakugou had pinned you against the wall, lay a scorched cut out, exactly in the shape of one large hand.

Your mouth dropped open in horror.

That fucking dick.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #my hero academia #bnha #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #tw threats #tw gendered violence

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bunnys-beetlejuice-blog · 3 years

Text

been a while since i posted a fic update! anyone wanna read some cowboy au nonsense? sure you do! well here it is

The blinding, unforgiving midday heat is enough to raise blisters on the skin. Looking out over a crowd of folks booing him, calling for his demise, probably should have had some kind of emotional impact. On the occasion of one’s death, after all, one does expect tears. Flowers, laid out in lace, dark veils and coal black clothes, a few muffled sobs from those further back in the funerary procession, unable to contain themselves. Instead he’s met with the dusty faces of former neighbors and strangers alike, all eagerly waiting to hear the exact tone and pitch that his neck will make when it snaps.

Bored, he turns his attention from the crowd, and watches a lizard scurry across the wooden planks of the gallows, as a man to his right fits a rough bit of rope around his neck. It scratches, but he doesn’t react, not feeling frightened or even especially interested. A similar rough twine is binding his hands together behind his back, keeping him from having any viable way to save himself. The crowd is calling for blood now. Hangings generally are not gorey affairs, but he did once see a drop too sudden and a rope so long that the fella wasn’t just hung, he was decapitated. Beetlejuice glances back down at the crowd, tries to imagine what direction his head would roll if that happened here, and smirks, because it seems to him the last thing he’d see would be the view from inside the skirts of some of the women standing front and center. Not the worst last sight a man could have. “You think you could hurry this along?” he asks the man fitting the noose around his neck. “Sun’s beatin’ down somethin’ fierce an’ I ain’t got my hat.” His personal possessions are back at the sheriff’s office- hat, bandana, silver plated, pearl handled pistol, and his custom belt buckle, just about the nicest, and maybe only, thing he ever paid for. God damn corrupt lawman’s probably gonna pawn his stuff as soon as he’s swinging. Maybe before. Maybe his last worldly possessions are already gone. S’not like he’ll need them, where he’s goin.

A face he recognizes is led up from the crowd, an ancient wizened body tanned for years by the all too eager sunlight and scorching sands. It’s the local preacher, who he remembers from his formative years. The old man used to give him bread and plain, unseasoned chicken in return for listening to him talk about god, and if he hadn’t been nearly starved to death half the time, he might have spat in the old man’s face. Shouldn't charity be done for the sake of charity, not proselytizing? He’d said so once, and that was the last meal the old miser had given him. Jackass.

“Beetlejuice,” the preacher begins. His name is said with disdain and a curled upper lip. It’s one of the reasons he chose it, honestly. “You still have time to repent, young man. I remember you, as a child, bright eyed, curious about the kingdom of heaven.” Well now, that’s the very definition of taking artist liberty. “Now, here, you have one more chance to repent, to accept god’s mercy, and avoid the lake of fire.” The crowd is watching, waiting to see if he will confess his remorse. Beetlejuice hums, rocks on the balls of his feet, and then sighs. “.. C’mere,” He mumbles, jerking his head to indicate the old man should step closer. The holy man does. “I got a lot to confess to, preacher man, an’ not much time.” His voice is soft. The ailing man can’t hear him, steps closer, if only a little. “So much to confess to, in fact, I oughta just… Skip th’ whole thing an’ go straight to hell!” And Beetlejuice reels back, and then slams his forehead into the old man’s face. The sickeningly satisfying crunch of cartilage tells him he’s broken the preacher’s nose, as the elderly man falls back, crying out in pain, blood gushing from his new wound. The crowd roars, furious, and he grins, and laughs. “Ain’t no good extendin’ your pious pity to me!” he calls, gleeful, as he’s pelted with whatever the people watching can get their hands on, and the old man is helped, taken away, led off of the platform. “Enough, enough, we will have order!” a lawman cries, coming up the gallow steps, to stand in front of the outlaw. It’s enough to get the crowd to settle, or at least stop throwing things. There’s still a bad energy in the air, which Beetlejuice can taste on the tip of his tongue. His smile is rictus, he’s delighted to be the cause of it all.

“This man has been tried and found guilty,” the lawman continues. The trial had been very short, and his incarceration shorter. He understands he’s being made an example of to other outlaws, bandits, and trouble makers. They intentionally didn’t give him any time to plan anything, or for any coconspirators to come and assist him. Joke’s on them. They could have taken all the time in the world. Ain’t nobody alive who cares for this outlaw. Not a soul who would dare to come and stage a rescue. He’s utterly alone. “He’s allowed his last words. Clearly,” the lawman turns, eyes Beetlejuice, who smiles flirtatiously. The other man’s expression shifts from annoyance to disgust. “He’s disavowed the advice of Pastor Neighbors.” “M’not so sure you’re usin’ that word right, friend,” Beetlejuice snorts, but he’s ignored. “Any last words?” the hangman to his right asks, his hand itching to grip the lever that will drop the floor and finally, finally, release the outlaw from the confines of mortal life.

Beetlejuice grins.

“If any of you have a message for th’ devil, give it to me!” he shouts, with a cackle, and he watches in rapt and morbid delight at the way the faces in the crowd twist. “I’ll carry it down to hell for you!” The crowd is furious enough it almost seems to him they’re going to storm the platform, and maybe beat him to death. The wave of gasps from the women folk is particularly amusing.

“Enough of this!” He hears the voice of the lawman, disgusted, and the hangman must agree, because the last thing he hears is the lever being thrown, and the floor gives out under him, and he’s falling, falling, falling.

His ass hits a chair.

There’s a moment of blinded confusion, because he's gone from the unbearable dusty sun of midday California, to a cool, dark, musty smelling interior. His eyes need a moment to adjust to the change. He’s sitting in a room he doesn’t recognize. The chair under him is plush, but just thin seated enough to be a tad uncomfortable. He squirms in it, confused, and finds his hands are still tied behind his back. He turns his head. Seated across from him is a young woman.. Well, little girl might be more accurate, she’s maybe fourteen. There’s a wicked looking hoofprint emblazoned on her right temple. The blood that’s leaking from the wound has gone a sickly old color. They stare at each other. “Did that hurt?” she asks, first, and he squints, because he’d been about to ask the same question. Her hand has gone to her throat, as she looks at him, and he looks down, pressing his fat face into his fat neck to create an unflattering double chin as he does so. He can feel the rope around his neck. He follows the line of it with his eyes, and turns to look up. The rope travels up from him, into the ceiling. It’s still taught, like he’s suspended by it, but his ass is touching chair, his boots are on the ground, and he doesn’t feel choked by it’s presence. He tuts. “Didn’t feel a thing. That hurt?” he tries to gesture to her wound, but again, he’s reminded his hands are bound behind him. She stands. “Hurt a bit, but then I got so dizzy I didn’t hardly feel it, after,” she tells him, and then, like the good little frontierswoman she is, she produces a knife from inside some pocket in the volume of her skirts, and gratefully, he leans forward. She rests a knee on one of the chairs, to get a better angle, as she uses her bowie to cut through the rope at his wrists. “Awful kind of you, half pint,” he tells her, and she smiles. “Ain’t nothin.” She settles into the chair next to him, which is a little surprising, but he doesn’t mind, over all. “You’re an outlaw, then?” she asks. He grunts, and then turns to face her, with a grin. “You probably heard of me. They called me Th’ Ghost, on occasion, cause I could slip away without bein’ caught-” he watches her eyes travel up the line of his noose, and then settle back on his face, a little less impressed than she ought to be. He responds by pinching her nose, and she swats at his hand, and laughs. “I do think I heard of you,” she concedes. “I’m Presley.” “Presley, alright. You got a clue where we are, kiddo?” “I just was told to wait.” “Told by who?”

Across the room, a window he hadn’t registered as being there slides open. This place vaguely resembles a bank, he realizes, and so that means that’s the teller’s window. A woman with a tired expression on a pretty face peers out at him. “Hey, dead beat,” she calls, her accent thick around the words. “Juno wants to see you.” He motions to himself, questioningly. She raises an eyebrow in silent confirmation. “Should I care?” he asks, and her upper lip curls in the most beautiful version of a sneer he’s ever seen. “You’re real funny. Get in there before she loses her temper.” And she reaches up, and slams the window shut.

He looks to Presley, and they both share a little shrug, before he stands, and takes a step. The rope going through the ceiling moves with him, not along any visible track, that he can see, but seeming rather more like a toy balloon on a string, bobbing along as though after a child winding their way through the crowd of a state fair. There’s a door by the teller’s window, and he makes for it, only for the window to slide open again, and that beautiful face to reappear. She looks him over, not seeming particularly impressed, but also not outright cruel. “Where’s your handbook?” she asks. Beetlejuice tilts his head. It lolls a little comically to one side, presumably because his neck is broken. She sighs, pinches the bridge of her nose. “You can’t be serious. You didn’t bring your handbook?” “Listen, lady, even if I had whatever book you’re talkin about, I couldn’t read it,” he counters, and she pauses, at that. “Illiterate. Of course. What’s even the point of the handbook when so many folks can’t read it?” she mutters to herself, and then she waives him at the door, the conversation apparently over. Alright.

The door, predictably, leads to a hallway, a bit unlike anything he’s ever seen before, in terms of sheer length of the thing. It twists around like a snake, and the number of doors along the hall leads him to believe wherever he is, it’s massive. The hallway is empty, save for a man at the far end, mopping, and there doesn’t seem to be anything around for him to tuck into his pockets. Too bad, he mopes, as he carries himself down the hall, boots clacking in a way he finds tactile and pleasant. He passes the custodian, who stares at the floor behind him and sighs, and Beetlejuice looks back to see a mess of dusty footprints he’s left on a previously slightly damp but otherwise pristine floor. With a snort, he spits into the bucket of mop water, and the other man jumps back, disgusted, as Beetlejuice cackles, and continues his leisurely walk down the hall.

At a certain point he realizes he’s got no idea where he’s going, but it doesn’t especially matter. Wherever he is now, whatever version of the afterlife this is, because clearly, that’s what this is, it doesn’t seem to be fire and brimstone and all that bullshit, so he takes it easy, opening doors at random and peeking through. The things he sees don’t always make sense to him, feel like they’re out of place from the world as he knows it. He opens one door, and suddenly he’s staring at what must be a city, but the buildings are so tall they’re touching the sky, going up past the clouds, up into the heaven he doesn’t believe can really be up there. The people are dressed strangely, men and women wandering around in little more than underclothes, which he likes, instantly, and the streets are black with painted yellow lines, instead of dust and earth. Some kind of metal.. Something, a trolley without a track, moves on it’s own down the street, and he catches a glimpse of faces inside. He gets lost in the contents of this door, staring for a long time, entranced, and then it’s slammed suddenly. He turns, catches sight of the custodian with his hand on the door, and growls, an animalistic sound he didn’t know he could do. And then he stops, and turns to look, because the custodian is still a ways behind him, mopping with spit water. It’s the same man. “You don’t need to go poking your snout into places it doesn’t belong,” the man says, simply, and then in a blink, both versions of him are gone from the hallway. Maybe that’s just an… afterlife thing.

He reaches, after what feels like a boring and dragging eternity of twenty whole minutes, a set of saloon doors, the swinging kind. There’s a void of blackness behind them, but the draw he feels is unmistakable, and he pushes them open, and walks through. Instead of a room black as ink, he finds himself… standing on the wooden porch of a bar he remembers frequenting fairly often, in his younger days. At least, he has clear memories of walking into the bar. How and when and why he ended up outside of it, well… whiskey has a hell of an effect on a man’s memory. It’s a fairly chilly desert night. The chirping of crickets and the long ways away lonely baying of a dog is a sort of familiar comfort, but god damn it, he’s just left this world. He wasn’t intending on coming back to it, ever. The dusty streets are dim, illuminated only by the moon, the stars, and the few lamps still burning in windows. The town is quiet.

On the dirt road in front of him is a woman, staring at him. She’s small, older, nicely dressed, with hair shorter than he’s ever seen on a lady, and a mouth sort of like a toad, long and downturned. There’s an unlit cigarette between her fingers. She’s watching him, curious and apathetic all at once. He returns the look. “Juno, then?” he grunts, stepping off the porch. No dust lifts when his boots hit the unpaved road, which he notes. Maybe he’s not really here. Maybe he’s a ghost. Fitting.

“Lawrence “Beetlejuice” Shoggoth,” she says, as he comes to stand in front of her. “Took you long enough. You realize I’ve been waiting here for days. You get lost, or something?” Her tone is sharp, like a schoolmarm with too much on her hands and not enough energy for it all. He feels a little sheepish, if only because no, he hadn’t realized that. “Gimme a break,” he says, instead of an apology. “I just died.” “Like that makes you special,” she huffs, and then, waving her unlit cigarette in his face, machine rolled, not hand, he notes, she asks, “Have you got a match?” He produces one from one of the many pockets of his moss green duster, strikes it on his thumb, and holds it up for her. She has the decency to look grateful, as she leans in, cigarette to her lips, and lights it from that little flame. “So,” she exhales smoke, and it curls from the corner of her lips, and out a previously unspotted slash to her throat. No wondering how she died, then. Speaking of, he glances up, to see that his noose is no longer floating above his head, and turning, he catches sight of it dragging on the ground behind him, long and snake-like in the way it’s twisted and coiled. Juno snaps her long red nails in his face, brings his attention back to her. “You weren’t supposed to die, you know. You’ve mucked things up for me.” “Whut?” he grunts, a bit thrown. She rubs her temples. “You were supposed to go in your seventies. Catch tuberculosis and wither away in obscurity. How old are you?” “Thirty four, or abouts,” he croaks, and she takes another drag. “You let yourself be caught,” she accuses. Well.. yeah. But how the hell does she know that? “I got pinned down in a shootout. Lucky they didn’t blow my head off, right then.” “You’ve gotten out of worse.” She looks almost.. Disappointed. “And then you put down your weapons, instead of fighting it out.” “I was surrounded.” “You were sloppy.” “What’s it to you, anyway?” he growls, again low and animalistic, which Juno ignores, as she walks circles around him, studying him. “You let yourself be caught, and you let yourself be hung. You didn’t even try to get away. You might not have killed yourself, but you let them kill you, for you,” she says. “And it’s giving me a hell of a time, both because it’s changed you, and because I have to put you somewhere, Beetlejuice, and now no one knows where you should go.” “So what does that mean?” “It means, my little statistical outlier, that you’re going to be staying up here, probably a lot broader a time than it would have taken you to just live your life and die at seventy,” she sighs, rubbing at her forehead. “Which is a shame. Because.. I was looking forward to.. To you. And now we both have to wait longer,” and here, she finishes her circle of him, to stand face to face with him again, and she flicks his ear, the way he always imagined an frustrated mother might. “Because you gave up. You weren’t supposed to give up.” “Wasn't much worth livin’ for,” he says, and it’s got more emotion behind it than he meant to give it. Juno’s hand goes to her throat, and she looks pained. “I guess that’s an inherited trait,” her voice is soft, and he squints at her, confused. Instead of giving him any context for that, she points down the dusty main road. Shining under the moonlight, he can see, vaguely, a dark shape suspended in air, near the gallows. “Go put your suit back on,” she says dryly. “And try not to cause enough trouble that I have to come up here and get after you, understood?” “What part of outlaw ain’t you gettin?” he snorts, and she responds by giving him an affectionate pat to his scruffy cheek, before she takes another drag, and vanishes inside the swirling smoke. He’s left standing on his own.

His “suit” is still hanging, he notes, looking up at himself. He’s strung up on a tall pole by the platform, leaving it free for more use, if need be, with his body on display as a gruesome reminder for potential criminals that this is a hanging town, and they’ve even hung their most despised son. His neck is bent at an ugly angle, a little bulge at the side betraying how exactly his bones had shattered, and his skin has gone a bad color, gray and foul looking. But aside from that, he’s not rotted the way he would think he ought to be. Juno’d said she’d been waiting for days, presumably meaning it has been days since his death, but his body is looking remarkably unbuzzard pecked and unrotted. He shimmies up the pole he’s hung from, his ghostly noose trailing behind him, and the moment he touches his own boot, the world spins, going upside down and inside out in a way that’s too painful to try and perceive.

“Gahh-” says Beetlejuice, because he’s back in his body, which is still being hung by that god damn noose, and he realizes, annoyed, that he has no way of cutting himself down. He kicks, pointlessly, one hand going to the rope at his neck, to clutch it and try to keep it from choking himself again, and the other grabbing at the rope further up, gripping it to pull himself up, give himself some slack, instead of hanging taught. It’s not the most coordinated he’s ever been. At least there’s no one around to watch him struggle.

“Holy shit, the body’s movin!” he hears someone holler. Oh, come on.

Read the rest, right over HERE

#beetlejuice au #beetlejuice fic #beetlelands fic #my writing #beetlejuice broadway #beetlejuice the musical #this is so self indulgent #i love westerns so this is all i can focus on rn

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vecnawrites · 3 years

Text

Two Flavors Of Delicious Chocolate

Jaune Arc was a normal guy, if one asked him. He was moderately strong, reasonably intelligent at most things, skilled at a few. If one had asked him if he would have two girls fighting for his attention, he would have laughed. However, the fact of the matter was, he DID have two women wanting him. And they would do what it took to get that fact into his head...

(Hooooolllllyyyyy Fuuuuucccckkkkk...this one got away from me! This is my second commission, from The-Wayward-Arc. I loved the idea, and it became this! An art piece is connected to my AO3 page for this one, and more should be coming when I can commission the artists!)

Jaune Arc liked to think that he was a reasonably intelligent individual. After all, he always scored at least middling in both Grimm Studies and History, and the highest in Tactics and Situational Defense and Assault. Even Weiss was admittedly (and more than a little begrudgingly) impressed by that.

...so how in the name of any God or Gods listening did he not notice this!? He looked back and forth between the two, admittedly extremely beautiful women glaring at one another before him.

One was Emerald Sustrai, a chocolate skinned, carmine eyed, mint haired beauty, with thick curves that drew the eye of every male, and even some of the females, as she walked (even him. What? He treated women well, like he had been taught. He wasn’t fucking blind), her hips swaying back and forth and bringing attention to that absolute shelf of a rear end she had. That wasn’t to say her chest had nothing to offer, as her breasts looked perfectly sized for his hands, perky and firm.

Her personality was confident, and a bit sarcastic and snarky, although that usually came out only when faced with people she wasn’t too fond of, like Cardin or her own teammate, Mercury...although in the latter, he was pretty sure it was part of how they acted with one another. Like how Yang teased Weiss.

The other was May Zedong, another incredibly beautiful classmate of his, with muted maroon colored hair styled in a way that covered her left eye, leaving only the right gray-blue orb visible, and a black beanie keeping her hair in place. She had that wallflower air about her, generally going around unnoticed by most unless a teacher asked a question, even by her own teammates (something that made him seethe), but he had always noticed her and sought to talk, even if it was only some minor casual conversation over class notes. He wasn’t going to let her feel as alone as he did before coming to Beacon.

One would think that the girl was nearly flat, maybe a double-a cup (like Weiss supposedly was, don’t ask how he knew), but that was a lie. The girl was more stacked than Yang and even Professor Goodwitch were! Her breasts had to be as large as her own head! Again, it wasn’t like he was a pervert, but having seven sisters made him able to tell when a woman was binding or stuffing her bra to either remove attention or gain it.

And he could understand why, honestly. May was almost cripplingly shy, more nervous than Ruby or Velvet when called upon by staff or someone else. She seemed to revel in being invisible and unnoticed.

But now they were both before him, glaring at one another; Emerald looked like she wanted to, as his elder sister Saphron liked to say, “Slap A Bitch”, and even the shy and bashful May looked ready to try and claw out Emerald’s eyes with her fingernails.

“If you think your shy ass can make him happy, you’ve got another thing coming! What are you two going to do, hold hands while hiding in the shadows?” Emerald snorted, popping her hip and placing her hand on it, smirking darkly at the beanie-wearing sniper.

May glared, only one being visible doing nothing to hide the intensity. “At least I didn’t have to flaunt myself like a whore to get Jaune’s attention! He always noticed me, even without knowing about my tits!”

He could see them about to fight, and his body moved before his brain did, placing himself between them and giving them both a stern look (something perfected by dealing with mischievous younger twin sisters), silently telling them both to stop.

Both huffed, curling into his sides and glaring at one another, static seeming to form between their gazes.

He tugged the two girls who had captured his heart over the semester close to him and closed his eyes, recalling exactly how this started…

Start Of The Week

Emerald Sustrai had known little in the way of happiness or of comfort for most of her life. Growing up an orphan in Vacuao, she had lived on the streets and been forced to scrounge and steal in order to survive. She had been tempered and hardened by such a thing, her heart steeled to do what was necessary, even if it wasn’t right.

She had managed to steal, scrimp, and save enough to catch a flight to Vale, and apply to Beacon. She hated Vacuao, and wouldn’t set foot in Shade for a second if she could help it. She knew that they held a ‘survival of the fittest’ ideal, and after living it for most of her life, she wasn’t going to be going through it at school, where she was supposed to be able to trust the people who she teamed up with to watch her back!

Getting to school and getting through initiation, she had been partnered with Cinder Fall, an enigmatic, but intelligent and resourceful woman who used a bow and arrows and Fire Dust. Her other partners were Mercury Black, a silver haired smart ass with prosthetic combat legs, and Neopolitan, a mute midget with a weird ass reinforced parasol for combat of all things. But even Emerald couldn’t deny that they were skilled and effective at killing the Grimm in the forest.

But she was still missing something...or rather, someone. She wasn’t an idiot, she knew that she was more likely to die before retiring, so she wanted to find someone...maybe they would last, maybe they wouldn’t. But before the year’s end, she would be free of this pesky virginity!

But...surveying the available males made her wince. Mercury? No, it was a bad idea to have sex with a teammate. She had enough to worry about, she wasn’t going to have to worry about her own teammate as well.

Brawnz Ni? Arrogant, and full of himself. She wasn’t going to give him a bigger ego. Roy Stallion? He was okay, but not her type. Nolan Porfirio? Too passive.

Lie Ren? Nice, but taken, going by the ginger with the hammer constantly hanging off of him. She would not ruin a relationship, thanks...or risk having her kneecaps obliterated by a combination War Hammer/Grenade Launcher.

Team CRDL?...Pfft, she’d sooner stick a slim teasing vibe in her pussy and seal it up to be tormented for the rest of her life before letting one of those slimeballs touch her.

But Jaune Arc...he was interesting. Kind, but not to the point of being walked over, as evidenced as he corralled his (possibly certifiably crazy) teammate, Nora Valkyrie. Not the strongest, but not the weakest, reasonably intelligent, although his strongest points were tactics and applied strategy, being the only student to be actually acing the class. He...he would work. He was handsome, in that goofy, awkward way, messy blonde hair, bright blue eyes, awkward, charming smile...and always doing small acts of kindness, even if he never got thanks for it.

The one problem? His partner, the Invincible Girl. She couldn’t tell if they were together, hell, she couldn’t tell if the redhead even liked him in that way! She looked at him softly, but it wasn’t seemingly the way that a lover looked at another lover.

An elbow nudged her, and she looked to see a head of multicolored hair, heterochromic eyes and a cocky smirk. She deadpanned at Neo. “What is it?” she asked, scowling as the shorter girl wagged her eyebrows as she glanced over at Jaune, making her scowl deepen.

“Don’t even, Neo…besides, aren’t you a card carrying member of the ‘Lady Lover’ society?” she asked, knowing that Neo much preferred females, having seen her eyes roaming over the stacked blonde on Team RWBY, Yang Xiao Long. She couldn’t see it, but she wouldn’t mock the pink, white, and brown haired girl for her interest.

Neo shrugged, almost saying “I can appreciate looks, can’t I?” before nodding over to the corner. Following, she felt her heckles rise almost instinctively, lip curling up in anger as she saw what Neo was referring to.

In the corner was the quiet May Zedong. Now, Emerald had nothing against the quiet girl who hid herself in the corners and hardly ever spoke up unless she was directly spoken to. One would think herself a complete and utter wallflower, non-threatening. But, May Zedong was a sniper. She preferred to wait and strike when it was best for her. And right now, her lovesick blue-gray eye was locked right on her future man. This would not stand. “I’ll be back to the dorm later, Neo...I have to...talk...with someone.”

Neo tapped a finger against her lips as she watched her teammate stalk off, an intense look in her crimson eyes, before shrugging and heading back to the dorms. On one hand, she hoped her teammate knew what she was doing...on the other, she would take her amusement where she could get it.

May Zedong was used to going unnoticed among a crowd. She knew she wasn’t the beauty that most huntresses-in-training were, feeling as though she had really plain features. Slightly narrow face, only one eye (a grimm attack when she was young taking the other one), she felt even her hair was limp and unappealing, even if it was a unique maroon color. Even her own teammates paid her no second glance, instead preferring to fawn over the likes of Yang Xiao Long, Cinder Fall, and Pyrrha Nikos.

A small, extremely bitter part of her knew that she could get any boy’s attention if they knew what she hid under her hoodie or uniform top. She had been extremely ‘blessed in the chest’ as it were, going from almost flat bee stings to Double-G cups in the span of her teenage years, and was only able to hide the damned things by an expensive, dust enhanced binder that made her look like she was barely a B-cup.

But while she could easily get any guy, she didn’t want to rely on her tits to do so. She’d only attract creeps to her, who only wanted her for her breasts. She’d never let that happen. She wanted to be liked for who she was, not her chest.

She had come to Beacon with her clothes, some personal items and her Sniper Rifle/Climbing Axe, Opening Gambit, hoping that she could find some happiness with a boyfriend while at Beacon, the risks of her survival until she was thirty drilled into her head by her mother.

So far, she had dealt with nothing but disappointment. Her own teammates glossed over her as a woman without so much as a second glance, even her own partner, Nolan. Hell, Brawnz had thought she was a boy until she had said otherwise. CRDL were assholes. Mercury Black gave her the creeps. He just...stared at people sometimes. Without blinking. Lie Ren was cute, but he was claimed, even if he didn’t know it yet. Nora Valkyrie clung to him like a baby koala did to its mother.

But Jaune...he...he was nice. He was kind. He noticed her, always went out of his way to talk to her, even if it was a simple ‘hello’ in the halls! Her heart beat faster and she could feel her cheeks heat up as she thought of being held in his arms, just being accepted for who she was-

“Zedong.” May was cruelly ripped from her fantasy by the curt voice of Emerald Sustrai, a dark skinned beauty that turned more than a fair few eyes with her teasing smile and swaying hips. But currently, there was no smile on her face, instead there was a severe look that made her heart race, this time not from a happy fantasy with a potential boyfriend, but from adrenaline flushing through her body as her fight or flight instincts went wild. She swallowed.

“Y-Yes, Emerald?” she asked, cursing internally as she stuttered, despising the weakness. She flinched as a cocoa skinned hand slapped right on the wall next to her.

She leaned close, allowing her to smell her scent (cherry blossoms, very pleasant), and carmine eyes narrowed. She leaned even more forwards, until May could feel the verdette’s nose poking her own. “What are you getting at, staring at my future boyfriend like that?” she growled.

May blinked, before the words registered in her brain. She scowled back, her body making more adrenaline and scowling at the surprised looking Sustrai. “You. Don’t. Own. Him.” she growled angrily. “I know he’s not dating anyone right now.” despite her anger, she felt worry when she saw a glint appear in Emerald’s eyes, her lips turning up in a smirk.

“Really…?” Emerald murmured to herself, tilting her head, “I figured, but its nice to have confirmation...that will make it much easier...especially since I don’t have to worry about potentially ruining a relationship…” she licked her lips. “Thanks for the information, wallflower. Do yourself a favor: stay away while I go for him. I’m not cruel, but you’re honestly bound only for disappointment if you go up against me.” she smirked. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a boyfriend to go claim.”

Pulling away from the beanie-wearing girl, Emerald turned and walked away, making sure to sway her hips and let the girl know what she was dealing with.

May breathed harshly as the adrenaline slump kicked in, not unlike when she was out of combat. She flushed, not only from shame that an altercation from a fellow student made her feel like she was going against a Grimm, but from anger. To be told, ordered, not to pursue the one boy that gave her the time of day, that held her interest...that wouldn’t fly. She obviously couldn’t use her tried and true method of waiting for the right moment to strike. She would have to go out of her comfort zone and attempt a strike normally…she glared at the retreating Emerald, her blue-gray eye narrowing. It was on. Tomorrow, the battle would begin!

~x~x~

Emerald smirked as she looked herself over in the mirror. She had ‘borrowed’ a few skirts from both Cinder and Neo, who were both smaller in the hips than she was, and loved the effect it had when placed on her thicker frame.

The material of the skirt clung to her ass nicely, even coming up a bit and showing off just a bit of her plump cheeks. A quick sway of her hips made her chuckle, as it showed off more of her ass, just enough that it could confuse...and arouse...those who saw her. Especially since she had forgone normal panties, instead wearing one of her thongs, the string being swallowed up by the split between her cheeks.

Sure, she had only one person in mind, but teasing others was good fun too. She knew enough that Jaune didn’t have the best self-image, either, so when they got together, it would do his ego a bit of good that he had a girl on his arm that everyone else lusted after.

“So this is what you wanted to borrow our skirts for…” a dash of red dusted Emerald’s cheeks as she looked up to see her partner, Cinder, leaning against the door frame, her arms crossed over her chest, watching her.

Emerald cleared her throat and forced the redness away from her cheeks. She knew that she had nothing to be embarrassed about. Cinder wasn’t loose, but she had shared her bed with a few boys before, generally civilians from Vale on the weekends. That way, she didn’t have to worry about them ‘getting attached’.

“So, who’s the lucky boy that managed to catch your attention, my dear Emerald?” the inflection of Cinder’s tone was more that of ‘leader’ than ‘friend’, meaning that Cinder wanted to know to make sure it didn’t affect the team. They may not be number one team of the year (that belonged to JNPR), but they weren’t far behind it.

“Jaune Arc.” she replied, her tone soft, watching her dark haired team leader close her eyes and nod, lips tilting upwards a bit. “Hmm, not a bad choice...you could certainly do worse…” opening her golden eyes, she smirked. “Best of luck. I know many others have been eyeing him, not just the girl you spoke to yesterday. If rumors are right, even a second year is interested in him...that rabbit faunus, Velvet something.” she hummed, her smirk growing a bit even as Emerald stiffened. “Go get him, girl.”

~x~x~

May Zedong stood in Team BRNZ’s locked bathroom, gathering her courage. She knew that this was going to be risky, but the potential payoff was worth the potential discomfort.

She stood naked in front of the mirror, looking over her body critically. Her large breasts, larger than her own head, jutting form her chest proudly. Most girls would consider it a point of pride, she however, considered them a point of shame and embarrassment, to be hidden away.

Carefully, she gently cupped the heavy swells, hefting them and contemplating them. The skin was smooth, not a single flaw to it, not a blemish nor a beauty mark. Her nipples were large and puffy, a horizontal slit showing that they were inverted, another oddity of her body that she disliked, along with how brutally sensitive her chest was. She always got wet simply by rubbing them, and playing with them intently could make her cum.

Letting her breasts go, she slid her hands along her sides, trailing them along her flat, toned belly and to her hips, twisting her upper body this way and that, glancing at her breasts from profile, a weak smile forming on her face as she saw the jiggle.

Glancing between her legs, she looked at her freshly waxed core. She had never liked more body hair than necessary, something she knew was shared by almost all Huntresses-in-training. Turning around fully she looked over her shoulder and pushed her butt outwards, taking a look at her rear. She knew it had nothing on Emerald’s, or even several other girls, like Velvet Scarlatina’s from second year, but it was a nice shape and firmness, something that maybe Jaune would like to grab? Spank it as he played with her sensitive tits and fucked her soaking pussy, turning her into a gooey puddle of lust in his skilled hands?

She shook herself out of her fantasy and straightened up, grabbing her panties and slipping them up her legs and covering herself, then her uniform skirt. Turning back around, May gnawed at her lower lip as she looked at her binder. She glanced at it, then down at her chest, before sighing and grabbing it, beginning the process of flattening herself down to look ‘normal’.

But as she did, a naughty thought, a wicked thought, filled her head. She would gradually start loosening her binder, until she could proudly go without the damned thing...or at least have it loosened enough that people-that Jaune-saw her as the young woman she was.

Strapping it on, she tightened it until she reached her normal almost flat state, before loosening it a bit, her breasts pushing the material a bit more outwards. Grabbing her uniform blouse and tie, she put them on, looking at herself in the mirror.

A hint of redness formed on her cheeks. She looked...she looked feminine. Her shirt bulged a bit, going from nearly flat to respectable. Was...was this what she could look like? She smiled softly as she brushed her hair, making sure her bad eye was covered before putting on her beanie to keep her hair down.

“You can do this, Zedong.” she whispered to herself, steeling herself for the day, and the battle, to come. “It’s no different than combat...time to hunt.”

~x~x~

Jaune Arc woke up feeling odd that day. Not like he had forgotten to study for one of Oobleck’s tests (thankfully, Pyrrha and Ren helped remind him and Nora of those), but more that something...interesting...was going to happen to him. He wanted to hide in his bed and just believe the world outside the dorm room didn’t exist, but knew that he couldn’t do that.

“Jaune?” he glanced to see Pyrrha, his partner in arms, and closest friend at Beacon, looking at him worriedly. He gave her a weak smile. Both he and Pyrrha knew each other’s darkest secrets. For him, it was his falsifying his transcripts and sneaking into the school untrained.

For Pyrrha...it was a more touchy subject. She had been forced to be this perfect girl, someone untouchable, indomitable...she hated it. She also feared how people would react when they learned that she had never felt any type of romantic feelings nor had ever felt sexual desire. Never even found joy in masturbation, even. They had both been blushing hard as she admitted that.

The reveal to one another had only brought the two closer as both friends and partners, and they both felt comfortable telling one another everything. So, he decided to tell her the truth. “Just have this weird feeling that today is going to be interesting…”

Pyrrha hummed. “Interesting? Or...interesting?” she asked, sending a look over at Nora, who was happily chatting with Ren. Jaune shuddered. “It feels between that, but I hope to god its not the latter…” he said softly, making Pyrrha nod. They both loved Nora dearly, but she was a handful, and they didn’t need more than one of her.

Shaking their heads, both redhead and blonde gathered their things, preparing for the day.

~x~x~

Jaune sighed as he made his way to Study Hall. Once again, Oobleck had managed to speak so fast during his class that he was going to have to do extra studies for it. As he was about to enter, he stumbled a bit, his arm lashing out to catch whoever knocked against him, although his breath still left him when he hit the wall, and (the bigger reason) something soft pressing against his groin. Opening his eyes he glanced down to see one of his year mates, Emerald Sustrai, pressed against him, her...ample...rear settling between his thighs perfectly, pressing against where his cock was sure to bulge if she kept moving like that, wiggling that ass of hers! He watched as her eyes opened (a beautiful red shade, he thought), and she looked back at him, a small gentle smile forming on her face.

Emerald smirked to herself. Step One was complete, ‘accidentally’ stumbling into Jaune and making it so her best ‘asset’ was pressed against him. Now for Step Two, Teasing.

Putting a small smile on her face, Emerald made sure to subtly shift her backside against him, wanting to see what he was packing. She knew he wasn’t small, god knows that she heard Winchester bitching about how that size ‘couldn’t be possible without drugs’.

“Thank you for grabbing me...your name’s Jaune, right? I’m Emerald...sorry for being so clumsy!” she chuckled awkwardly, inwardly loving the red hue to his cheeks...and the pressure she could feel start being placed on her ass. She was surprised. From what she could tell, he wasn’t even truly hard yet, but she could feel him pressing quite firmly between her ass cheeks! Redness seeped into her own cheeks, this...this was something special.

Before she could say anything more, her world spun as she was picked up and gently placed onto the floor again, hearing Jaune frantically apologize before taking off in almost a sprint, leaving her there, shocked and soaking her thong.

A smirk formed on her lips. “Stage one and two, complete...now for stage three later on…” she hummed happily, knowing that she could have great fun with that. She knew what fun she wanted to do next...and her semblance could surely help with it…turning, she walked away with a skip in her step, already plotting how the second phase of her plan was going to unfold…

Jaune darted into the Library, holding his books in front of him to hide his straining erection, face flushed as he made his way to the back of it, to his preferred table for studying. That had been mortifying. He desperately hoped that he wouldn’t be getting looks later due to his ‘perversion’. It would be his luck.

Setting his books on the table, he took a seat and sighed, willing his erection away so he could focus on his studies. Jaune cracked open his history text, knowing that the dry words within would slaughter any arousal ruthlessly.

“...Jaune?” he lifted his head, hearing the voice of May Zedong, a girl that he was reasonably well acquainted with. Her voice was soft, and he didn’t know if it was because they were in the library, or because of her natural shyness. But he smiled softly.

“Hey May, how are you…?” he blinked as he noticed that she had loosened her binder (he knew she wore one, but he hadn’t known it was that tight), her chest protruding more outwards, giving her a generous looking C-Cup. He gave it the barest glance (he wasn’t going to apologize for being a guy. He knew girls looked too) before locking eyes with her. He could tell she was embarrassed, but her smile was genuine.

May’s heart was beating faster than it had ever had. She felt all the eyes on her as she moved around her day, and she had only loosened her binder a bit! She could only imagine how people, how Jaune, would react when they saw her true size. She felt her heart skip a beat as he glanced at her chest, but her feels swelled even more as his eyes were only there for a second before locking on her face. “Do...do you mind if I sit here?” she asked, nervously fumbling with her own book for Tactics class. It was Brawnz’s, but she had ‘borrowed’ it so she could actually have something to talk with her crush about.

Her heart warmed as her crush nodded with an affirmative, now, it was time to make her initial chink in his armor. “W-would you mind helping me with Tactics? I could help with History in exchange?” she offered. Fortunately, she was a fair hand in History, being in the top five of the class.

Jaune swallowed. “S-Sure!” he stuttered a bit, his nerves jumping a bit at being alone with a pretty girl. Hopefully this would go better than just before he entered the library?

Jaune was wrong. It was worse. May had always felt comfortable around him, and it showed; she sat next to him, scooting her chair as close as she could get it, practically leaning against him, squishing her chest against his arm. This had the additional effect of getting him to notice that her blouse wasn’t buttoned all the way, giving him a tantalizing view into her cleavage, something he knew no other man saw.

He hated himself. He knew that May was afraid of being objectified, just like Pyrrha, but here he was, having the urge to stare at her. Every glance he made not only made his cock twitch, but his embarrassment and shame grow.

May was pleased, very pleased. She could see the subtle shifts in Jaune’s body, his cheeks flushing like her own were. She wasn’t going to make her final strike now, that would come later. She pressed herself more firmly against him. “...thank you for helping me, Jaune. It helped and I really enjoyed spending time with you.” she said honestly. “...can we study together again?” she asked hopefully, looking into those startling blue eyes.

She smiled as he nodded. “Thank you!” she grabbed him in a hug, although she failed to immediately notice that she pulled his head down to her chest, pressing his face against the exposed tops of her breasts. But even when she did, she only hugged him tighter, despite the redness on her cheeks.

Jaune stiffened, in more ways than one. For not the first time, he bemoaned being so large. Why couldn’t he have been more normal sized like Ren was? Her scent invaded his nose, vanilla and cinnamon, and his cheeks burned, even as his cock swelled and began making a distinct shape down the inner thigh of his uniform slacks. He had to act fast, before she thought him nothing more than a complete pervert!

May squeaked as Jaune quickly slipped out of his arms (unknowingly putting a delicious pressure on her sensitive nipples, making her panties soak. In a flurry of activity, Jaune collected his books and notes, rapidly saying, “It’s been great, May! We should study together again sometime! Sorry, I just remembered I had something important to do! Talk to you later!” he blurted out, before dashing off, leaving an aroused May sitting at the table.

She licked her lips, having seen the distinct ‘manprint’ that her crush had running down his inner thigh. She rubbed her thighs together. She knew that he was big, but not that big…

She swallowed and grabbed her things, standing and deciding to head back to the dorm. Walking away on slightly shaky legs, she knew she would be taking a long personal shower when she got to the dorm room.

Reaching the dorm, Jaune threw himself face first on the bed, face red and eyes wide. Had...had that really just happened? Did two beautiful girls just...what had happened?! Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he forced his aching cock to calm. One good thing about being surrounded by so many beautiful girls all his life, he gained an almost semblance-like ability to force his cock down.

He sighed as it thankfully shrank down and calmed, even though his balls still felt the effects of the arousal that had flooded through him not too long ago. He closed his eyes and sighed. Hopefully, this would just be a one off thing...something that he could laugh about year later on.

Poor Jaune. He had no idea what he was in for.

~x~x~

Two days had passed since the initial incidents, and Jaune had attempted to put them form his mind. Granted, it was impossible really when the two subjects of his thoughts were constantly there, smiling, waving, greeting him.

Considering neither of them were screaming ‘pervert’ or spreading rumors about him, he guessed things were good between them, leading him to wave back and smile awkwardly. Of course, Yang had to make jokes about it, acting as though him getting female attention was something noteworthy…

...and he supposed it was, considering his luck with Weiss. That didn’t mean he needed to hear the jokes about how he was finally getting attention from the ladies.

Rolling his eyes, he sighed and stood. “Very funny, Yang...now, if you’ll all excuse me, I’m going to head off and go anywhere but here.” he said, standing and heading off, distantly hearing Ren, Nora, Pyrrha, and even Ruby going off on her sister. Bless them.

As he left, he failed to notice carmine eyes watching him, following his every move. And both failed to see the calculating blue-gray eye.

Jaune sighed as he placed the barbell back down on the rack, wiping sweat off of his face and neck with his workout shirt. His muscles burned nicely, and he felt pleased with himself. He had come a long way from the unmuscled noodle that had sneaked into Beacon.

Now, while he wasn’t the best warrior, he could certainly hold his own, no thanks in part to his wonderful Partner and teammates. He knew that he would have been dead by now without them.

“Oh, hi Jaune! You decided to get a workout in too?” his eyes widened as he turned and saw Emerald walking up to him. His mouth went dry and he bit his tongue to try and stave of the twitch in his shorts as he saw what she was wearing.

A tight sports top held her sizable breasts snugly in almost a shelf, while she wore sinfully tight black shorts that looked almost painted on. And he was only seeing her from the front. He both desired, and dreaded, seeing what they looked like from behind. ‘Danger, Danger, Jaune Arc! Abandon The Area!’ his mind screamed as the beautiful young woman walked forwards, her hips swinging.

“H-Hi, Emerald…” he mumbled, eyes darting everywhere for help, but heart sinking when he realized they were alone in the gym. He quickly scrambled for an excuse. “Sorry, but I have to go…”

Emerald pouted. “Are you sure? I need to do some squats, and it would really help if someone spotted me...would you, please? I don’t want to overdo it…” she bat her eyes a few times, not overdoing it, but still pulling the ‘sweet demure girl’ act.

She barely resisted the urge to smirk when Jaune nodded, instead cheerfully going, “Great, thanks! Only going to do a few sets today, since I know classes aren’t far away, but there’s enough time to get a quick workout in, along with a nice hot shower! That’s always nice after a workout to ensure you don’t cramp, right? Feeling the hot water running over your body...there’s nothing like it!”

Jaune bit the inside of his cheek as the beautiful girl put the image of her standing under the shower head, the steaming water running over her trim, curvy body...he could feel himself getting hard in his shorts.

Emerald smiled as she slowly turned around, making sure to highlight her ass in these sinfully tight shorts of hers. She had honestly outgrown them, but had kept them around for reasons even she didn’t know...until now, at least.

Bending down and grabbing the barbells, making sure to push her ass out, she smirked when she heard a stilted intake of air. “Ready?” she asked, raising herself up, not waiting for an answer before dropping herself, pushing her ass out hard, quickly falling into a rhythm of rising and falling, making sure to showcase her ass and thighs.

Jaune was hard, unable to stop his cock from getting fully hard and stretching out his shorts lewdly. As embarrassing as that was, he preferred that to it sliding down his leg and peeking out to say hello to the world. He was just very grateful she was facing away from him, otherwise he knew this would end badly.

Emerald smirked widely as she performed her squats. Jaune had apparently not noticed the mirror across from them, and she had a perfect view of how hard he was staring at her ass...and how hard he was in response. She licked her lips and her core tingled, warmth bubbling up in her belly as she imagined being speared by that cock.

Despite loving the fact that Jaune was captivated by her ass, she knew she had to finish up sadly. But she wasn’t going to let that end her fun, there would be plenty of chances to tease him later. So, as she went down for her final squat, she rocked backwards, letting out a squeak as both she and Jaune hit the mat, her ass squashing against his cock.

Jaune groaned piteously as his cock was pressed down by those soft cheeks, just like two days ago, as Emerald rubbed her head and-oh god-squirmed on top of him, his balls going haywire. He bit his tongue to avoid making any sound that could tell Emerald exactly what was happening underneath her.

Forcing his eyes open, he saw her rubbing the back of her head, before glancing back, although not down, much to his relief. He twitched as she shifted more, her ass rubbing against his cock. ‘Oh, fuck, she needs to stop!’ he thought, panicked.

Emerald had to hit Jaune with her semblance, she couldn’t keep the smirk off her face anymore as she subtly wiggled her plump ass on the thick meat stick underneath her. “Ow…” she whined piteously, rubbing the back of her head, “Are you okay, Jaune? I hope I didn’t hurt you!” she asked, forcing the weight of her ass on his cock more, loving the panicked look on his face. She was glad that they were alone and that her ass was facing him; she was soaked.

The groan that hit her ears made her smirk, more teasing to be had then. “Did I hurt you?! Hang on, let me see where I landed!” she slowly dragged her ass down Jaune’s cock and placed herself on the mat, turning around-

-only to see Jaune up already and rushing to the showers, hunched over. She blinked, before she smirked, standing up and slowly following, intending to find him and watch what she knew he was doing. Maybe even ‘help’.

She herself failed to notice her follower, the blue-gray orb narrowed in anger.

Jaune groaned as he stood naked under the shower spray, one hand on the wall and the other performing what was known as a ‘tactical jerk’, rapidly tugging at his cock, trying to bring himself to orgasm before anyone else arrived.

“Fuck...why...how did she not notice?” he groaned, his cock and balls aching terribly as he pumped hard on his cock. “She can’t have not felt it…” even now, he could feel the warm squeeze of her ass on him, almost a phantom sensation that drove him wild.

He moved his hand for a moment, only for his eyes to snap open as a warm squeeze seemingly did envelop his cock, a tight warmth that made pre spurt from his tip. Looking before him, he saw nothing, but sniffing, he smelled the scent of cherry blossoms, just like the girl who he had been spotting. The sensation began to move, confusing him utterly, but the pleasure made him quickly forget thinking about it too hard.

Emerald smirked at a job well done. Jaune was wrapped in the throes of her semblance and she had stripped and slipped in front of him, capturing that massive cock in her ass. She hummed to herself as she began to rub that hot hard flesh, her ass moving along it, her own honey leaking down her inner thighs. She knew they would have to be swift, after all, people could come into the gym or its showers anytime. But she knew enough that Jaune had to be close. She just needed to...make...him...cum!

Jaune released a broken sound as his balls finally began to release, his cock spitting his copious seed all over the wall in front of him, much to his shame, his cock throbbing and balls pumping out a massive amount of cum, utterly painting it white.

Shame filled him, and after a quick rinse, he swiftly dried off, dressed and made his way out.

Under the spray of the water, Emerald hummed to herself as she rinsed herself clean. While she couldn’t see how much cum was on her backside, she could definitely feel the warmth that coated her. She chuckled. “Step three, complete…” she murmured. She would hunt him down again and next time, she would ask him out. She was sure he’d be all for it.

Hidden in the shadows of the corner, a tear-filled blue-gray eye stared at Emerald in rage. May knew about Emerald’s semblance, and she knew that Jaune didn’t see what had really happened. Slipping away, she wasn’t going to give in. No, she was going to fight for Jaune!

Creeping back, she May skulked out of the showers, already preparing for her next move. She needed to do something special.

~x~x~

Jaune sat in Survival Class, an elective course, but one he found damn useful. Even as he looked over the diagrams that they were working on today, he knew his mind wasn’t in it, it going back to the scene in the Gym earlier with Emerald. Glancing around, he supposed it was okay, though...after all, there seemed to be low turnout for the class today. As an elective, you came when the class had something you wanted to learn in it.

He sighed as he felt his cock, still semi hard, twitch in his slacks. He still felt phantom feelings of her rear on his lap, like when he was in the shower…

“Hi, Jaune! Can I sit with you?” he looked to the side, hearing May’s voice, only to choke as he turned. May’s chest had grown again, and now matched Yang’s size. He quickly shook himself though, knowing that she would hate gawking. “S-Sure, May.” he stuttered, watching as she happily took the seat next to him, her breasts bouncing slightly as she settled. Glancing around, Jaune noticed that they were the only two in the classroom, which filled him with a bit of trepidation, but he trusted May. He knew she wouldn’t do anything to embarrass him.

He heard the door opened and a flush filled his cheeks as he saw Emerald enter in her uniform, looking up and waving at him, although her smile seemed...dimmed. He didn’t know what caused that and would have thought more on it, but he was distracted-incredibly distracted-by May leaning into his arm again as she pointed out something in the book. If anyone asked, he wouldn’t be able to tell them, since his entire focus was on the softness pressing against his arm.

While Jaune was...preoccupied, both Emerald and May were having a stare down, giving one another very ugly looks, unimpressed with the fact of what the other was doing or did. Their eyes were cold, and if one looked closely, it would seem like lightning was crackling between the two beauties. May was happy that she had arrived first and foremost and was able to sit next to Jaune, while Emerald was incised for the same reasoning.

After a moment, Emerald smirked, immediately making May stiffen, wondering what the devious verdette had in mind.

Heading over to the table that held the books they used for the class, Emerald wasn’t going to let Zedong get in the way of her snagging her future boyfriend. She’d just get the sight that Jaune was going to be able to enjoy whenever he wanted, too! She laughed to herself as she stretched straight out over the table, feeling her skirt rise and rise, cool air brushing over the skin of her ass...the dual gasps made her smirk and glance over her shoulder, using her semblance to hide the blatant action, her cheeks red, even though she thought this was so hot…

Both Jaune and May stared in shock as Emerald’s skirt moved up more and more, until the entirety of her ass was completely exposed, the smooth chocolate skin taut and unblemished. More to the point, she was lacking underwear, letting them see everything.

May was horrified. She had no idea that Emerald was going to be that blatant with her wants! She knew that it wasn’t an accident, either! She could see her shifting her stance (subtly, of course) to arch her rear up and make it spread a bit! Glancing at Jaune, she was disheartened to see him staring with a dark blush on his cheeks, although she could understand it. Acting quickly, she did the first thing that came to mind to get his attention back.

Jaune’s mouth went dry as he saw her cheeks spread, allowing him to glimpse the darker circle of skin between the half moons, and the plump, pouty lips just beneath. He lost his battle keeping his cock soft, the shaft swelling with blood and pitching a massive tent in his slacks. He didn’t know how long he stared at the enticing image before he heard a squeak, and the wind was knocked out of him as he fell out of his chair and onto the floor, something warm landing on his crotch, making him freeze in horror.

Glancing down, he saw May, planted face down on his crotch, her cheek rubbing up against his hard shaft, her warm hand on his thigh, her breath seeping through his clothes and brushing over his balls; his cock ached.

May had attempted to put her hand over Jaune’s eyes, but slipped and slammed into him, taking them both to the ground. As the dizziness faded, she felt something hard poking her cheek and noticed that she was taking in a wonderful, musky scent. One that made her pussy clench in her panties. Opening her eye, her face burned as she realized somehow she had ended up face first in Jaune’s lap. Her eyesight grew hazy and stung as tears of humiliation filled them. She hadn’t meant for this!

She threw herself up and back, looking down at the ground and tried to take in a breath to calm herself, but all that came out was a loud ‘Hic!’ as burning hot tears began to stream down her face, falling onto her skirt. She couldn’t bring herself to look up at her crush, knowing that she would see the most disgusted look on it-she froze as strong arms wrapped around her and pulled her close to his chest. “It’s okay, May...its okay...it was an accident…”

May buried her face into her crushes chest, taking deep breaths of his scent, her emotions settling and her love for Jaune growing as he comforted her after that humiliating experience. She snuggled against him, letting herself relax to the powerful thump, thump, thump of his heartbeat.

Neither noticed Emerald stomping out with a scowl.

~x~x~

Another two days had passed, and while things had been slightly awkward between him and May, it wasn’t bad enough that they couldn’t interact with one another. However, today was an off day for classes (something about a staff wide meeting? He didn’t really care enough to confirm it), so he was planning on heading to one of the indoor pools. Oddly enough this meeting coincided nicely, since the team had reserved it today anyway. Now, instead of a few hours after classes, they had the entire day to laze away in it if they wanted. Which they were going to.

Nora laughed as she changed into her swimsuit in the middle of the room, uncaring if her teammates saw her naked. None of them batted an eye, used to Nora’s wild side by now. “This is going to be great! How often do we say that we get to just sit by and swim in a pool all day?” she asked.

“We don’t, since the pools are always filled up on the weekends, and we don’t want Pyrrha in a swimsuit appearing in the tabloids. Its bad enough people are taking photos of her in classes, for God’s sake.” Jaune sighed, shaking his head as his closest friend and partner blushed.

“I’m sorry!”

“No, Pyrrha, don’t be sorry that other people don’t know boundaries.” Jaune said, patting her on the shoulder. His partner looked very attractive in her modest two piece bikini, but he knew that people would only be able to admire from a distance. After all, most of them never had the nerve to speak to her, and even if they did, Pyrrha, being on the Aromantic Asexual side of the spectrum, wasn’t cruel enough to lead them on.

A knock on the door drew their attention, and glancing to make sure his teammates were decent, Jaune moved over to the door, opening it to see…“May? Hey, what’s up?” he smiled as he saw his shy friend in front of their dorm room.

May blushed brightly as she saw the boy she loved without a shirt and wearing only swimming trunks, her mouth going dry as her eye roamed over her muscled form. Feeling warmth bubble up in her belly, she cleared her throat and spoke, hoping her voice didn’t crack. “I...I came to see if you wanted to hang out...but I can come back later?” she asked hopefully, hoping that she got some time with her crush today...without her trying to muscle in.

Pyrrha blinked. While she may not feel it herself, she could see that May was attracted to Jaune. Hell, she likely would be attracted to Jaune if she was capable of feeling those types of emotions. He was a great man. She smiled and moved forwards. “We’re going to the pool, May. Would you like to join us? The more the merrier?” seeing the beanie-wearing girl’s surprised look, she winked from behind Jaune’s shoulder.

May had to bite the inside of her cheek to avoid the face-splitting smile she wanted to reveal, instead managing to say, “A-are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother...or get in the way of team time.” she nearly winced, since most of the time she was left out of ‘Team Bonding’ stuff in BRNZ, since she was the only girl.

She didn’t see Jaune’s eyes soften, but she did hear him. “It’s not bother to spend time with a friend, May. You’re welcome to come. We’d be glad to have you.” she couldn’t keep the joy off her face this time as she smiled wide. “Thanks! I’ll go get my suit! Which pool are you heading to?” she asked. This could be her chance! And it looked like Jaune’s own partner, Pyrrha freaking Nikos, approved of her going for him!

“The smaller one on the West side of the dorms. More private.” left unsaid was they chose that one to make sure Pyrrha had peace, since it was one of the few of them that didn’t have windows to the outside, meaning no loiterers attempting to hide with cameras. It may have been against the rules and punished harshly, but that didn’t stop perverts in their attempt to get pictures of swimsuit malfunctions.

“Thanks! I’ll go grab my suit!” in a burst of emotion, she hugged him, before darting off back to her own dorm to get her suit. She had thankfully bought one in case she ever had the courage to do something like this.

Granted, it wasn’t ideal, since preferably, it would just be her and Jaune, but at this point, with what Emerald had been pulling, she couldn’t afford to stay her usual self anymore...besides, worst came to worst, she had her semblance to fall back on.

Entering her empty dorm, she dug her bikini out of the bottom of her dresser, blushing at the thought of Jaune seeing her in it, wondering what he would saw when he saw how large her breasts were, before shaking her head. Now wasn’t the time for talk, it was time for action. She wouldn’t allow anything to stop her.

May was pouting. Honest to god pouting. Why? Apparently, Team RWBY had overheard Pyrrha and Jaune inviting her to the pool, so they invited themselves! And what’s worse, Emerald had found them and gotten an invite too! But she wasn’t going to let an extra five people stop her! She was going to get Juane’s attention!...right after her knees stopped trembling.

She stood before a mirror in one of the small changing rooms, wearing her bikini. The bottoms were a pretty lavender color, and a modest side-tie in style. The top, however...well, it was a bikini...in theory. The two tiny triangles covered her puffy, inverted nipples for sure, but a good portion of her pink areola was still visible.

Her blush was dark, almost taking over her face, but she wasn’t going to be deterred! She was going to go and show her crush what she had to offer!

Knock! Knock! May looked at the door, seeing the outline of someone’s shadow underneath it. Part of her hoped it was Jaune, but she knew he was too much of a gentleman to do such a thing unless someone else was there. “Hello?” she was proud her voice didn’t crack.

“May? Are you okay?” her shoulders relaxed when she realized it was Pyrrha and not Emerald here to taunt her. She had seen the smug look that the verdette had on her face as she went into one of the changing stalls herself.

“Yes, thanks! On my way out!” she called, gathering her clothes and putting them into her bag, making sure that they wouldn’t go ‘missing’ mysteriously. Standing and moving to the door, she opened it to see the redhead standing outside.

Despite the embarrassment, she couldn’t help but feel amused when Pyrrha’s eyes went wide, the normally reserved girl blatantly staring at her chest. She chuckled, making her breasts bounce. “Take a picture, maybe?” she teased, getting the redhead to rapidly shake her head and back up, looking incredibly flustered.

“I’m sorry!” Pyrrha yelped, before calming and taking a deep breath, looking May in the eye. “May, are you sure you feel comfortable wearing that? I mean, there’s more than just Juane out there…” May felt her eyes widen. “I can tell you like him, and honestly, on some level, I think he likes you too, but Juane...he’s not unintelligent, but he has a very low sense of self-worth.”

May nodded. Anyone could honestly see it. The blonde seemed to hold himself to an impossible standard. “But, I think you’re good for him, so let’s go and you can make his eyes pop out.” Pyrrha chuckled, and May nodded, her heart rising as she realized she had a great ally in Pyrrha.

As they headed back to the pool area, they could hear voices, Yang talking predominantly. “Damn, Em. How do you hide that? It’s bigger than Blake’s?” May’s expression soured, knowing exactly what Yang was talking about.

Emerald had happily shown off her thong bikini to May, revealing the same amount of ass that she had shown off in Survival Class the other day. She knew that Jaune was likely just as embarrassed as he was then...but he was likely to be more when he saw her.

“Oh, its a bit difficult, but a good skirt or pants does wonders!” Emerald’s voice was cheerful, but she could hear the hidden dislike within it; then again, May knew that Emerald had no real respect for those who flaunted themselves. Hell, she could honestly say that she had never seen Emerald act like this before until she decided she wanted Jaune.

As Pyrrha reached for the door, May took a deep, calming breath and nodded. Showtime.

Emerald smiled to herself. It was so easy to tease Jaune like this! And with the little wallflower out of the way, she had full access to him! Just a little longer and she was sure he’d be interested in spending some time alone with her on their free day…

The door opened and her jaw, and she was sure everyone else’s jaws dropped. Where had the shy little wallflower gotten the courage to wear something like that? Off to the side she heard huffing and jealous murmurs from Schnee, which at any other point would make her laugh, if she wasn’t so shocked.

Instead of being downright flat, like she had thought, the mousy girl had tits bigger than Xiao Long! When the hell did that happen?

May ignored everyone’s expression, from Yang’s shock, to Weiss’s not so little amount of jealousy, to even Nora grabbing Ren by the head and shoving his face into her own sizable chest; her attention was solely on Jaune, who was staring at her with awe. Filling her with strength.

Walking up to him, she sat down next to him. “H-How...how do I look?” she didn’t care what the others thought of her, Jaune’s opinion was the only one that mattered. If he didn’t like it, she had wasted her time!

She watched his throat bob as he looked over her body, making the warmth bubbling in her lower belly grow, wetness beginning to form in the bottom of her swim bottoms. “Y-You look wonderful.” she smiled as his voice cracked a bit.

“Thank you.” she said, relieved. She was happy that he wasn’t disgusted by how lewdly...large...her breasts were.

Time passed, the group having fun, or as much as they could have while stewing in jealousy over Emerald’s and May’s attributes.

Both Jaune and May were swimming together, making Emerald frown. There were too many people to use her semblance effectively, but maybe she could make it so they were misdirected...a smirk appeared on her face as she moved slowly through the water, weaving her semblance.

May was enjoying herself greatly, she and Jaune had stopped for a few moments and relaxed, Jaune sitting on the edge of the pool, and May floating before him in the water. She smiled at him, happy that this was going well. But now, she needed to talk to Jaune. “Jaune...I need to tell you something.”

Jaune looked down at May with a smile. “Yeah? What is it, May?” he asked. This...this was very comfortable. He truly enjoyed spending time with her, and even Emerald; she had sat with her and May and they had just talked. And despite the embarrassment of all this week, he found himself attracted to Emerald, just as he was May. It had been a very pleasant day.

May looked up at Jaune. This was it, she was going to do it! “I wanted to tell you-” her eyes widened as she felt her top slipping. Cheeks turning dark she saw Jaune’s eyes widening so she knew he noticed it to.

Before panic set in, she activated her sembalnce and pushed herself closer to Jaune as her top slipped off and began to float away, pressing her breasts onto his lap. She took several deep breaths as her heart rate calmed down. Looking up, she blushed more as Jaune was definitely noticing her now, especially if the poke on the underside of her breasts told her anything.

Jaune glanced around rapidly, waiting for the laughs, the shrieks, the mocking, the perverted jokes, but nothing came. In fact, none of them were even looking their way. Looking back at May (doing everything he could to not stare at those magnificent breasts, massive with puffy, inverted nipples, the flush from her face extending down to the top of them), he gave her a confused look. “H-How?”

Emerald agreed with Jaune. ‘Yes, how?!’ pulling off her top was supposed to embarrass her! Not basically make her set her tits on their crush’s lap!

May blushed. “I...it’s my semblance. When activated, anything surrounding me is...normal, for lack of a better word. It helps during combat, or in embarrassing situations like this, but I really don’t like using it much...but I left you and Emerald out of it...because…” she swallowed. “We both like you, and Emerald used her semblance on you in the gym showers!”

Jaune’s head spun. “I...what? You...you like me?” he asked, stunned. A nod from May. “Emerald does too?” another nod. “Sh-she used her semblance on me in the gym showers? How?” he asked. He was fairly certain he would have would noticed her doing something to him…

May blushed. “Her...her semblance is Hallucinations...she made it so you didn’t notice her in the shower with you…” his cheeks burned as he remembered the incredible heat and tightness that wrapped around his cock, bringing him to a swift orgasm. “Th-that was her?” he asked, mortified.

May bit her lip. “She does like you, just like I do...she just doesn’t...well, neither of us have ever...tried to get a boy, you know?” she glanced to her side, seeing a shocked Emerald looking at her, holding her top in her hand. Looking back up at Jaune, she smiled weakly. “Can we talk? We...we can go to one of the empty study dorms?”

Looking between the two beauties, Jaune swallowed and nodded. “Y-Yeah...I...I think that would be a good idea.” he said, quickly reaching over and plucking May’s top from an unresisting Emerald’s hand and handing it to the maroon-haired girl to put back on.

After May’s breasts were covered up (a part of Jaune mourning the loss of the beautiful sight), the trio gathered their things and left the room, uncaring that the moment that the door closed and May dropped her semblance around them, the room descended into confusion over where the three went.

~x~x~

Now, here the three of them were, in a student study dorm, the girls having swiftly gotten into another argument when they settled in here before he stopped them. He wasn’t going to let this ‘competition’ for him go on any longer. He wouldn’t deny that the two girls were beautiful, and he felt for both of them...his eyes hardened. It was time to take charge. Clearing his throat, he looked between the two of them.

“Now, both of you have been enjoying teasing and tormenting me this past week...that means, both of you are going to be fixing this.” he gestured to his tented pants, his hard cock jutting outwards. “Are we understood?” Jaune growled. “Now, don’t waste my time...clothes off.”

Neither Emerald nor May would admit it out loud, but they were soaked. Jaune taking charge and demanding that they finish what they had started by teasing him so was...hot. Instantly, they began tugging at their own clothes, shirts being tossed to the side, bra and binder falling to the ground, skirts, thong and hip hugger panties following, leaving both naked and dripping before their lover’s, hopefully boyfriend’s, eyes.

Jaune licked his lips, his cock straining in his pants as he looked over their bodies. They really were beautiful, and some part of him still couldn’t believe that they were truly interested in him...but the eager looks on their faces...those weren’t fake. They were real.

He walked around them, close but not so close her touched them, reaching out and just brushing his fingers along her backsides, watching with lust as goosebumps rose up from their skin. Jaune’s nostrils flared as he smelled a sweet fragrance wafting up from below, making his cock throb.

While Emerald’s ass was larger and more soft, his fingertips sinking into the fat cheeks, one couldn’t that deny the firm heart shape of May’s rear end was delightful as well.

Moving around to their front, he hummed, placing a hand on each girl’s hip, slowly and teasingly drawing his callused hands upwards. He chuckled at their their trembling, smirking at their needy whines. “Really?” he chuckled, “You two are begging for it already? I mean, you both tormented me all week...maybe I should leave you both on the brink for an entire week before finally taking you?”

Jaune didn’t know where all this confidence was coming from, but he did know that he felt empowered by the looks of panic and fear the two girls had, followed by immediate pleading to not do something so cruel to them, that they couldn’t take a whole week of being on edge-

“Like you had no problems letting me?” he asked. “You have a weeks worth of teasing and blue balls to make up for. I’m not cruel, so...if you promise not to tease and then refuse to follow through anymore after tonight, I can forgive you.”

Both May and Emerald breathed a heavy sigh of relief as they realized they weren’t about to be as teased and tormented as Jaune had been. It would have been hell! They were both already dripping down their inner thighs with need! Both shivered, releasing keens as Jaune’s hands moved down again, cupping their soaking cores. He did nothing, just cupped their slits. It didn’t take either of them long before they were grinding themselves shamelessly against his palms, shuddering and moaning as the callouses on his fingers and palm rubbed over their slick, sensitive skin.

It didn’t take long for them to break, both keening and trembling as they came hard, squirting along his palms, faces flushed darkly as they both realized they had cum in less than three minutes, but Jaune looked...he looked amazed, not amused.

Both slowly came down from their intense orgasms, watching with flushed faces as their lover contemplated their juices on his fingers, before tasting them, licking them clean and making their pussies clench.

The girls looked at another, and nodded. For now, they were on the same page. They had drove the man they both wanted to fits, and it was up to them to make it up to him.

Jaune blinked as he saw Emerald whisper rapidly to May, who blushed fiercely, but nodded. Before he could ask, both acted, moving him and having him sit on the bed. Glancing between them, the both looked at him softly. “We did you wrong, Jaune...we treated you as though you were a prize to be won, although among all the men here, you are one…” May began, looking ashamed, her blue-gray eye looking down, before it snapped back up as she realized what she was staring at.

Despite the situation, both Jaune and Emerald chuckled, before Emerald sobered and continued. “We’re going to make it up to you...be the best girlfriends we can be. We promise.” seeing Jaune’s shocked look, she smirked. “You heard right...you hit the jackpot, tiger!”

Glancing at May, Emerald nodded again, and May slipped down onto her front, her upper body held up by her elbows, while the verdette girl turned around, setting her plump rear on his thigh. “We couldn’t decide who would get to please you first, and well, our assets are quite opposite to one another, so I thought, “Why shouldn’t our forgiving boyfriend get the luxury of a titjob and an assjob at the same time?”...oh! I can tell some part of you likes that thought!”

Both May and Emerald giggled from how hard Jaune’s cock was twitching, obviously imagining what they were about to do. Locking eyes with their new boyfriend, both moved, sandwiching and engulfing Jaune’s large shaft between their impressive endowments.

Jaune groaned darkly, his cock feeling as though it was being utterly smothered by four large, warm pillows. Opening his eyes, he saw both Emerald and May looking at him with equal amounts of lust, and glancing down...he barely saw his tip emerging through the twin cleavages. He huffed, his fingers digging into the sheets by his body. He could feel his balls churning already, but knew that he was nowhere close to cumming.

He took deep breaths, as they started to move in tandem, in such a way that he was wondering if they hadn’t practiced this beforehand. “Fuck...you two…” his voice was almost a growl, something that disturbed him, but he could see the effect that it had on his two new girlfriends. Both were looking at him with lust in their eyes, their movements getting even more frantic, his cock slipping in their cleavages, his tip popping up and out between them as they fell, Emerald’s rear and May’s breasts squishing against his thighs.

“Like it, lover?” Emerald asked, eyes hooded halfway. “I...I won’t lie...I’m getting wet just feeling this thing between my cheeks...how about you Zee?” she asked.

May blinked at the nickname, but smiled softly. “Y-Yeah...this...this is really turning me on…” she was mortified at saying that out loud, but she wasn’t going to lie about the fact that her juices were streaming down her inner thighs. It didn’t help that her sensitive nipples were dragging along the soft skin of Emerald’s rear end.

Jaune groaned as both of them worked harder and faster, getting him closer to his end, growling as both stopped their movements, leaving him on the brink again. He scowled lightly as both moved off of him, although it lessened a fair bit as they leaned over and kissed him. “Don’t worry, baby…” Emerald smirked, “We’re going to get you off, we just don’t want to waste all that’s in here,” Jaune hissed as two different hands cupped his large balls, rubbing the swollen and packed spheres gently. “by letting it spit out onto our tits or ass, that’s all. We want it in us…”

May hummed softly, kissing Jaune again and getting lost in the addictive feel of his lips. Pulling away from his lips, she rubbed her nose against the blonde’s, pressing her tits against him. “We want you to fill us up...I tasted it before, I want it in me. No condoms, I’m on the shot...I...I want to feel it raw…” her cheeks burned, but Jaune only smiled softly, reaching down and cupping her cheek.

“If you’re sure...is it alright that she goes first, Em?” Juane asked, giving the cocoa-skinned verdette a glance, knowing that May had far more self-image issues than she did. The carmine-eyed girl pouted, but nodded. It would give her a chance to contemplate her own problem.

Emerald hadn’t hadn’t renewed her birth control. She hadn’t bothered resuming the shot; after all, why get something that you weren’t going to use at all? Now she was kicking herself. She’d figure out something. There was no way that May was going to be the only one fucked tonight!

Jaune kissed May again, which the buxom beauty accepted eagerly, moaning softly as Jaune’s tongue prodded at her lips. Clutching at him, May slid her body over his, enjoying the feel of his body pressing against her own. A small whimper escaped her lips as her sensitive nipples rubbed against his chest. Her pussy clenched around nothing as she pulled back from the kiss, a thin line of saliva stretching between their lips several inches before breaking. “Make...make love to me, Jaune...please don’t make me wait…”

Jaune kissed her again swiftly, rolling them over so May was on her back and he was looming above her.

May blushed, completely exposed before Jaune’s gaze. Her GG-Cups were on full display, her areola puffy and engorged, although her nipples were still tucked away in their little slits. Her trim legs were spread wide, exposing her soaked core. Even her milky, scarred eye (a testament to a Grimm attack when she was young) was uncovered from its hidden shield of her hair. She should have felt mortified. But with Jaune’s hungry gaze on her...she only felt...desired. Like a woman. She released a keen as Jaune leaned down and pressed kisses along her neck and collarbone, his fingers roaming her sides.

A squeal erupted from her mouth as Jaune’s firm hands grasped and toyed with her breasts, the callused digits almost sinking into the soft flesh. She squirmed and shook beneath him as his fingers rubbed over her sensitive areola, teasing the sensitive nubs.

Pulling back, Jaune stared into her visible eye as her face scrunched up, feeling her hips arching and rubbing up against him. He chuckled. “Sensitive there, are we?” he asked letting his index fingers and thumbs trace around the protruding flesh, his hard cock throbbing hard as he watched the busty girl squirm and writhe. This was breathtaking.

May was mortified! She couldn’t cum from just having her nipples teased! She wouldn’t, she wouldn’t, she wouldnnnnnn’t-a shameful keen escaped her mouth as Jaune’s fingers pinched, her nipples popping out of the small slits they hid in; her core clenched, her pussy squirting her fluids onto her thighs and on the sheets. With a whimper, she covered her face with her hands, not wanting to see the laughing expressions that she was sure both had.

Jaune was the furthest he had been from laughing in a while. He had never remembered be so hard in his life. Sharing a glance with Emerald, who looked just as shocked, Jaune grinned and slipped his hands down to May’s toned thighs, gripping them and spreading them a bit wider, slipping between them, the tip of his cock a hair’s breadth away from her soaked core.

Emerald, sick of being left out, leaned down and gently pulled May’s hands away from her face, looking into her embarrassed...sister-girlfriend?...she looked into May’s eye. “Come on, Zee...Jaune’s about to make you his...don’t hide behind your hands for this…” she smiled as she watched May’s eye immediately shoot down to see Jaune’s cock moments away from breaching her core.

Jaune smiled softly as he moved just a bit, allowing his head to touch her sticky lips. “Are you ready? I want confirmation…” he looked May directly in the eye, refusing to move further without her okay. He watched May nod, staring directly down at their potential joining.

That wouldn’t do. “I need you to tell me with words, May…” he said softly, rubbing his cock along her soaking lips gently. “I want to hear your beautiful voice telling me you want me to fuck you…” he hummed, turning his head and planting kisses on her toned calf muscle, running his nose along the smooth skin as May released small squeaks of sound, but nothing resembling words. He was patient. He had waited this long, he could wait until she found her ability to talk.

Fortunately, Jaune didn’t have to wait long. Emerald hummed and gently cupped one of May’s tits. “If you don’t tell him, he won’t fuck you. If he won’t fuck you, there’s no need for him to be where he is. It will be my turn. He’ll be fucking me. You wouldn’t want me to go first, now would you?” she asked, seeing May’s eye widen in panic.

“NO! Fuck me, Jaune! Don’t fuck her first! Please, I want it! I need it! Fill me with your cum!” May cried out, bucking her hips upwards, trying to take Jaune’s cock into her core. There was a beat of silence before her her lightly tanned face turned dark red, her cheeks resembling dark cherries.

“Heh, such a naughty girl, and a screamer to boot!” Emerald chuckled, gently fondling May’s breast, feeling heat flow off of her. “Don’t worry about it sweetie, its just us. But you heard her, stud; fuck her and fill her up!”

Jaune took a deep breath. While both had used their semblances to please him before; Emerald giving him that assjob in the gym showers while hidden from him and May had used her own to rest her breasts on his lap in front of everyone at the pool, he had never done this. He wanted it to go well.

“Looking at May, he smiled as he slowly began to push his way into her core. Huntress-in-training she may be, but she was a virgin and he wasn’t small. So he was slow to enter her and spread her open. He watched her face as she mewled and squirmed underneath him, digging her fingers into the sheets, gasping for air and whining for more.

Finally, Jaune bottomed out, his hips pressing against May’s, his own face tense as her walls were rippling and flexing tightly around his cock. She was hot, scorching even. Combined with her internal movements, it felt like she was constantly cumming around his cock. The look on her face only made him think more that she was cumming.

Slowly he pulled back, watching May’s face pinch and hearing the weak mewl coming from May’s mouth, feeling her thighs trembling in his hands. He watched her arch as he thrust back in, pleasure hitting him hard as well.

Seeing May starting to relax, Jaune knew it was time. Shifting his grip in her thighs, Jaune began to move faster, making May’s visible eye widen as he suddenly began to pound into her, loud smacks and claps filling the room as flesh smacked against flesh, pale hips colliding against tanned ones, Jaune’s swollen balls smacking into May’s toned ass.

Emerald stared jealously at May’s ecstatic face, before deciding that May shouldn’t be the only one having any fun. Sitting up, she carefully shifted so she was kneeling over her face. “It’s only fair I get off too, you know…” she teased, before plopping down and placing her pussy on May’s mouth, her ass covering the rest of the girl’s head. She moaned as May immediately started lapping away at her core, her tongue surprisingly skilled for a girl who had never eaten pussy before. She smirked as she saw Jaune’s eyes fill with lust, but she had to readjust herself as she nearly rocked off of May’s face as Jaune began fucking her even harder, his grip on the maroon-haired girl’s legs shifting a bit more.

Her eyes widened as Jaune lurched forwards, almost bending May in half, locking her legs down, putting her into a mating press and slamming into her. She threw her head back, a choked cry escaping her mouth as May screamed into her pussy, sending vibrations along with the sensations of that surprisingly wicked tongue. She released a choked cry as she came hard, squirting over May’s face.

May could see and hear nothing, could only smell Emerald’s intense scent of cherry blossoms and natural musk, could only taste her sweetly tangy arousal, and feel...oh Gods above, could she feel Jaune fucking her, bending her in half, making her his breeding bitch-her slick pussy clenched around him in sudden orgasm, a wail of pleasure leaving her mouth, being muffled by the slick flesh that hadn’t moved from her oral cavity. She thrashed underneath her two lovers, bucking upwards and trying to get more and more pleasure, to receive Jaune’s cum and become his woman.

Jaune growled as May clenched and flexed and squirmed around him, her juices leaking around him and dribbling down onto his pulsing balls. He knew that he wasn’t going to be able to hold back too much longer. This was, these two were too erotic to maintain calm. “C-Cumming!” he groaned, hearing May squeal eagerly as his balls rose and fell, his sack squeezing as his thick cum spurted out of his tip, forcefully filling up the maroon-haired girl’s core.

May cried out into the soaked flesh above her, heart singing as Jaune filled her up, claiming her body as his, and his alone. No other man would stretch her out, would fill her up...no other man’s seed would ever take root within her.

Feeling Emerald slip off of her face, she inhaled deeply the sweet air and stared at her lover. Feebly, she raised her arms, wordlessly asking for a hug. She moaned as she found herself scooped up into strong arms and smelling Jaune’s musky scent, her core flexing and rippling around his still twitching cock. “...Love you…” she moaned, nuzzling against him. “Love you too, May…” he hummed.

Jaune slowly, very slowly slid his still hard cock from May’s body, both staring at the veritable waterfall of semen that spilled from her pussy and onto the sheets. May managed a giggle. “You really did fill me up…” she whispered in an awed voice. Looking up at Juane, she kissed him. “You’re going to be doing that again soon...”

Emerald let the two have their moment, before she pouted, reaching down and gently squeezing Jaune’s balls, quickly gaining his attention. “I...I haven’t renewed my birth control yet, but I want it raw too…” she pouted. She cursed herself at the fact that she hadn’t thought of something as simple as birth control. Her eyes brightened. “You can fuck my ass.”

The blunt manner of speech made both May and Jaune gape at her, although Jaune’s sticky, twitching cock told Emerald that he really liked the idea. She slowly spun around on the bed, pushing her ass out and giving it a wiggle. “I know you want to~” she teased. “I don’t mind...after all, it is my best feature~”

Reaching back, she grabbed her cheeks and spread them, revealing her winking little pucker to her audience of two. Glancing over her shoulder she smirked, seeing both her boyfriend and fellow girlfriend staring. “You’re nice and lubed up due to Zee, so c’mon, lover...claim what every boy’s thought about!”

She watched with amusement as Jaune reached out for her almost zombie-like, his hands grabbing her ass and squeezing tightly, making her moan as his strong fingers sank into her flesh. “Yeeeasssss…don’t be afraid to get rough with it…” she groaned, getting wetter and wetter from Jaune’s rough handling.

SMACK!

A guttural moan spilled from her lips as Jaune’s strong hand slammed against her bubbly backside, making the cocoa-colored flesh ripple and sending a pleasant sting through her body. SMACK! Another one on her opposite cheek made her juices start sliding down her inner thighs.

Repeated spanks covered her ass, falling in a random pattern, sometimes going from cheek to cheek, other times he spanked a single cheek several times, the sting building until it became almost painful, the fire between her thighs growing and growing and growing until-

Jaune stopped.

A piteous whine escaped her lips, looking over her shoulder desperately at him, seeing him smirking. “You’re not going to get to cum that easy, Emerald…” she felt a slick feeling, and knew that it was Jaune’s cock. It slid between her cheeks, the cum slicking up her crease and covering her tight little pucker. A bit of adjustment and she felt his tip poking the small circle. Her pussy quivered. “Please…” she keened.

Jaune thrust.

Emerald’s eyes widened as Jaune bottomed out in one go, hips slapping her stinging rear as all ten inches of cock spread her wide. “Fuck!” she groaned, gripping the sheets as Jaune drew back until just his tip was still inside her, then plunging back in again. Smack!

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Jaune’s thrusts were rhythmic, and every time he bottomed out her ass cheeks were spanked hard by his hips. Broken moans spilled from her lips even as her own juices dripped down from her pussy and onto the bed, dark spots forming and growing in size.

Seeing May looking at Emerald hungrily, Jaune smirked and spun them around, much to the dark-skinned girl’s shock. Her carmine eyes widened as May spread her legs, revealing her cum stuffed pussy. “Eat me, Emerald...you made me do it to you, so its only fair...and hey, you get to taste Jaune! Won’t that be great?” she teased.

Emerald could smell it, the tangy, slightly bitter scent of their mixed arousal, her mouth watering as she found herself leaning forward…

...only for May’s legs to wrap around her head and drag her in, smushing her face against the maroon-haired girl’s cream-filled core. “MMMMMPPPHHH!” she whined, only making the one-eyed girl moan and Jaune rail her ass even harder.

May watched as her boyfriend railed her sister-girlfriend, and said sister-girlfriend sucked and licked and slurped away at her soaking pussy, sending pleasure through her body.

Jaune slammed into Emerald’s ass, enjoying watching the ripple of her flesh jiggle as his hips slammed into her, watching May moan and clutch at the Verdette’s hair as she was eaten out. He fucked her hard and powerfully, giving her all of the aggression that he hadn’t given May. He could tell she loved it, just like he did. She was already cumming, her anal walls squeezing bearing down on his cock, her juices spilling down her thighs.

He knew that he was close too, but he wanted to wait, hold out for May to cum again...lurching forwards, he began to slam himself against her, his balls slapping against her pussy, sending droplets of her cum flying as he slammed his lips against May’s.

“MMMMMMHHHHPPPPPHHH!!!” the trio moaned in unison, their screams of passion drowned out by their flesh.

May squirted hard, covering and almost drowning Emerald in a mix of her cum and Jaune’s, while Emerald sprayed the sheets with her clear cum as they came in unison.

Jaune, however, growled as his balls snapped taut and he began to pump his cum deep into Emerald’s backside as he devoured May’s lips, their tongues tangling against one another.

Slowly breaking the kiss and moving away, all three panted for air. “F-Fuck…” Emerald gasped, her head slumped on May’s inner thigh, licking her lips of May’s and Jaune’s cum. May was speechless, her massive chest heaving as she fought to get back her breath.

Jaune rolled his hips slowly, letting the last drops of his cum side from his cock as he slowly pulled back, watching in awe as Emerald’s ass gaped, his cum spurting out as the formally tight little hole struggled to close.

Grabbing his lovers and shifting them, Jaune slumped in the bed, followed by two female bodies, May and Emerald each grabbing an arm and pulling it close, his limbs being swallowed up by May’s massive cleavage and Emerald’s more modest one. Their legs entwined with his as they relaxed, their heartbeats finally calming down and breathing returning to normal.

“Ah, hah...that was...that was…” Emerald slumped against Jaune, trailing off, unable to come up with the words necessary for what she honestly was feeling. May hummed, nuzzling against Jaune’s shoulder. “...Perfect…” was the only word she said, and despite the fact that she had been Emerald’s worst enemy not two hours ago, the mint haired girl found herself agreeing.

“Yeah...perfect…” she hummed, closing her eyes and resting against her new boyfriend as fatigue finally hit her. She knew that she wasn’t done, not by a long shot. She may have agreed to work together with May tonight to make sure they both got what they wanted, but that didn’t mean that she was going to be passive all the time...the next morning, she was going to wake her boyfriend up with her mouth.

...little did she know, May had the same idea, dreaming of driving Jaune wild with her own talented tongue.

A Week Later

“Jaune? Are you okay?” Pyrrha asked, looking at her closest friend in concern as they studied in one of the study dorms. His face was flushed and a fine sheen of sweat was on his forehead. He looked at her and smiled, although it seemed strained. “I’m just fine, Pyr. T-Thanks for asking!” he said, although his voice was tense. Tilting her head, Pyrrha nodded and going back to her work.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, despite the immense pleasure that flooded through him. Looking down, he narrowed his eyes at a naked May beneath the table as she swallowed the head of his cock in her mouth, while her breasts swallowed the shaft, eyes bright as she looked up at him happily.

That wasn’t the only thing happening. Before Jaune in the middle of the study dorm, on top of the table he and Pyrrha were sitting at, was a naked Emerald. She had changed positions several times already, from doing exercises in booty short that showcased her magnificent ass, like Yoga and squats (reminiscent of the teasing she did to him in the gym), to belly dancing, to stripping herself of her bottoms and twerking, clapping those fat cheeks together, to the position she was in now, sitting on the table before him, legs spread lewdly and cupping one of her breasts as she openly fingered herself in front of him.

Jaune wondered how he had gotten so lucky. He had two beautiful girlfriends, both of them surprisingly adventurous...to the point of Emerald using her semblance to keep his partner from noticing anything odd as they both played with him...and each other.

Jaune bit his lower lip to contain the groan as he came hard, coating May’s face and tits in a thick, gooey mask of his cum. Eyes brightening, Emerald turned and hopped off the table (making sure to wiggle her ass in his face as she did so), crawling underneath it and immediately attacking May, kissing her deeply as they both began to scoop up his cum, moaning happily as they devoured his seed.

His cock, having lost none of its rigidity even with the massive cumshot he had painted May with, twitched. As he watched, both his girlfriends leaned forwards, pressing their lips to the head of his cock. Right next to his partner. Who remained oblivious due to Emerald semblance.

God...he loved his life right now.

#Jaune Arc #May Zedong #Emerald Sustrai #Team RWBY #Team JNPR

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lilbabycee · 4 years

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daybreak // steve rogers ✨

hi! i decided to make a tumblr so that i can write here too, not just on AO3 - please be nice to me i’m nervous 🥺 enjoy! xx

↳ summary: an insight into the relationship between steve rogers and his little ray of sunshine.

↳ relationship: steve rogers x reader

↳ warnings: a lot of cute domestic fluff and some dom/sub undertones bc steve is a closet freak and that’s that

READ SUNDOWN

Steve learned from a young age not to stare directly at the sun but that was becoming an increasingly difficult task when he has a clingy little everyone seemed little to him ray of sunshine sprawled out in his bed most mornings. She carries a certain wonder about her and he is sure that she must be aware of it to some extent for in his eyes, it is impossible for somebody to entrance and captivate the people around her as much as she does without even knowing it.

She isn’t perfect - she snores - loud - and is clumsy and speaks too fast and too loud sometimes. But she can be quiet - like in her refusal to burden him on any of the days when she is feeling more akin to the color of the sky against the New York skyline outside their massive apartment windows than the sunflowers that she insists on keeping on the dining table during the whole year. Or the way she draws in on herself when she’s being heavily criticized, diamond eyes shining in a way that makes his heart freefall to his stomach. The way she can get insecure about her work despite the way people laud it. She is too hard on herself, doesn’t know when to stop even when she is dead on her feet and cries often and quick if she fails to achieve whatever her little fighting heart is set on.

But she is his. Her bright and youthful spirit chose his old and weary one, painting over the tainted black and grey with vibrant yellows and reds and greens and golds using the fine sable brushes that he has tucked away in the lower drawer of his bedside table. Years ago he had come out of the ice, but he had never truly unfrozen until she came and melted him, his own personal sunlight with her arms wrapped around his neck and with him wrapped around her little finger.

Steve had never considered himself a poet. An artist, yes, but even that was a modest affirmation. But then she came into his life, all breezy skirts and pouty lips and he knew that he would have to find a new way to articulate his feelings because he failed to find a way to express how she made him feel. Like eating cool orange slices outside in the summer, the juice running down your chin but you don’t care because the weather’s hot and you’re in love. Like stepping into a warm department store when it’s snowing, knowing full well that you won’t buy anything but it doesn’t matter because you’re warm and you’re in love. Like laying surrounded by loved ones but your arm is cramping because your cousin has been laying on it for hours, but that’s not important because they’re comfortable and you’re in love.

In love. It doesn’t seem like enough to describe what he feels for you, the way that heat blooms in his chest every time you lock eyes or how your smile makes the steady beating of his super soldier heart stutter. Even now, looking down at your sleeping form, he can’t help the boyish smile that grows on his face. His right hand rests on your waist and your head rests right over his heart, the pulsing of it lulling you to sleep the night before. His left hand comes up, thumb gently caressing the bottom lip of your wide-open mouth.

He can feel the magic buzzing in the air in moments like these, the subtle beauty of it all, the life he thought he would never have. You shift on his chest, throwing a leg over his and then settling. Steve exhales, watching the sunlight stream through the crack in the blinds and reflect off of your bare shoulder that his t-shirt has fallen off of, shrouded in the white cotton of the sheets. You were-

His thought process is interrupted by a loud snore and some quiet muttering before you bury your face deeper into his chest. A deep chuckle vibrates through his chest, causing you to shift some more and a quiet groan to escape your lips. He presses a kiss to your forehead and you half-open your eyes as he looks down at you in a way that you can only describe as reverently.

“Good mornin’, doll,” he rasps, voice deeper from sleep and it caresses your ears, making you coo.

“Hi, baby,” you whisper, blinking sleepily up at him, kissing his bare chest right over his heart. “How long have you been up?”

Steve hesitates, contemplating lying for a split second but then he remembers who he’s talking to. He needs not feel embarrassed when you’re around, your accepting nature allowing him to express himself while avoiding judgement.

“A couple of hours now,” he replies, tracing patterns on your bare shoulder absent-mindedly. He glances over at the clock - 8:44 a.m - and exhales deeply, pushing your head deeper into his chest. You wouldn’t need to be up until around 10, because after that, Tony would surely be up to disrupt your peace with incessant teasing. Today you had offered to help Bruce in the lab with some undisclosed - but “very safe, I can assure you” - project, but that was supposed to be for early in the afternoon.

“Time really flies when you’re being a creep, huh, old man?” You tease, eyes full of mirth as you stare up at the love of your life.

He smirks, digging his fingers into your sides making you giggle and squirm on top of him.

“Watch your mouth there, young lady,” he calls you out in his captain voice, making your stomach flutter and your eyes lower in submission. He knows what that voice does to you, how it melts your resolve. His smirk only grows when he realizes how your eyes have dropped and how quiet you’ve become. “Don’t worry, baby, I know you have work to do. I won’t spank you today. You can find a way to thank me later.”

He follows his last sentence up with a wink and you giggle, always content about how soft he makes you in the morning. Later you may find the time to exhibit your bratty behaviour, but for now, everything was soft and sweet and quiet. You nuzzle your face into his neck and his hands slip down to grip your ass.

“I’m sure I will find a way later, Captain,” you mutter, yawning. His hands start to move in slow, languid circles, as both of you know that you have some time left in your little safe haven bathed in golden light and wrapped up in each other’s body heat. “What are you gonna do today, super soldier?”

He sighs, licking his lips and your eyes can’t help but follow the movement of his pink tongue peeking out between those perfectly pink lips. Instinctively, you bring a hand up to trace their outline, fully appreciating the beauty of the man that you hold captive beneath you.

His pretty blue eyes stare contemplatively at the ceiling and you notice how in this light, they look greener than they do blue. It was as if God himself poured a vat of molten gold into the ocean of his eyes, letting it sit and reflect the sun on this early morning. His cheekbones are pronounced and his jaw is strong, giving his face such a classically beautiful structure. The spun flaxen strands of his golden mane are unruly, but the time that the angels had spent slaving away and spinning it does not go unappreciated. You have a sudden urge to run your fingers through it, but instead your eyes are drawn to his moles and his freckles. They make constellations across his unblemished skin you’re jealous and reassure you that this perfect man that lays beneath you is still indeed human.

“You’re so damn pretty , baby,” you sigh, interrupting whatever response he was about to provide to your question. He smiles up at you and you return it easily, leaning down to place a soft kiss right on top of his lips. He grips your ass slightly tighter pulling you deeper into it. You make a noise of surprise that he quickly swallows, then moving his lips to nip and suck at your neck. Last night was long and he made love to you slowly and lazily, bringing you right to the edge again and again. Keeping up with his elevated libido was a constant but extremely enjoyable workout for you, one that he always found amusing.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he says once he relinquishes your lips from his hold, pecking you one more time. “But I don’t think I’m the pretty one in this relationship.”

He kisses you again before you can protest but then sits up abruptly, taking you with him and making you squeal. Your arms are still wound around his neck while your legs cling desperately onto his waist. His hands still rest on your ass and he wears a bright smile on his face.

“I don’t know about you, doll,” he starts, walking through your shared apartment towards the kitchen. You’re only wearing his t-shirt - one of the bigger ones because why are his shirts always so small - and he can’t help but admire how pretty you look in his clothing. He thinks that he wants to keep you like this forever. “But I’m a little hungry.”

You side-eye him at the potential double entendre - the abused flesh between your legs is already screaming in protest. He doesn’t look at you, but continues looking straight ahead with that naughty little fucking smile on his face, the picture of innocence.

“For food though, sweetheart, I swear it,” he finally cracks, laughing shortly while placing you on the kitchen counter. He deposits another kiss on the tip of your nose, looking at your bratty little pout causing his hand to twitch. He knows that he wouldn’t - can’t spank his best girl before breakfast - and you really are too sore from last night to go again for at least a few more hours. Because, if Steve’s being honest to himself, it never just stops at spanking.

But you’re clingy in the mornings so as soon as he turns to grab a pan from one of the cupboards, you clench your legs tighter around his waist. Turning to you once more, he raises an eyebrow and your pout only intensifies. He doesn’t do anything but kiss it once more before unwrapping your legs from his waist with those strong big ass motherfucking hands .

“What you do want for breakfast, babydoll?” He asks, successfully grabbing the pan this time. You chew on your lip, thinking hard.

“Pancakes?” You question, looking up at him for confirmation. He nods, a smile on his face.

“Go put on your music or something, baby - we can make them together.”

And that’s how you ended up dancing around the kitchen to one of the songs on your playlist, shaking your ass and singing obnoxiously loud as Steve watched you humorously, flipping a pancake here and a piece of bacon there. Soon, you both have glasses full of juice and about three dozen chocolate chip pancakes, as well as multiple pieces of bacon.

When you shove a piece of pancake into your mouth, Steve catches your eye across the jar of sunflowers on the table, light glinting off of the fork that you’re holding and the white plates adorning the table. He dwarfs his hand in yours and plays idly with your fingers.

“I love you,” he states definitively, as if he is stating his name and what color the sky is.

A mouth full of pancake, you grin at him. Quickly swallowing, you lean over the table and kiss him soundly on the lips. He tastes like orange juice and maple syrup and Steve .

“I love you too,” you reply, a small smile on your lips. His smile grows until you snort the last word, your own grin spreading.

“Dork.”

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retrievablememories · 4 years

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caffeine run | johnny

title: caffeine run pairing: johnny x reader genre: fluff summary: johnny stays over at your place for the first time and neither of you get any sleep—but not for the reasons you might expect. word count: 1.3k a/n: this is the first installment of the nct 127 sleepover series! some of these writings will be drabbles, others will be fics, some will be smut, others fluff, some take place at the boys’ dorm and others will be at reader’s place...it all just depends lol. i tried to keep this at drabble length but i always write too much 🗿

[10:30 p.m.]

“Please make me some coffee, Johnny,” you ask, clinging to his arm and giving him your best puppy dog eyes.

Looking away from his phone, Johnny laughs and pats your head. “Now? It’s so late, you won’t be able to go to sleep…”

“It doesn’t matter, this is our first time spending the night together...we should make it fun by staying up all night. Plus, coffee tastes better when you make it.”

“It’s the same coffee you drink all the time...but if you insist.” He kisses your cheek and heads over to the kitchen to start. Hanging over the back of the couch, you point at one of the uppermost cabinets.

“Use the French press you got me!”

“Of course, your majesty. Any more requests?”

“Umm—use the kitty mug, please.” He laughs, finding the black cat-shaped mug on one of your cabinet shelves. It has adorable yellow eyes, and the cat’s curved tail serves as the cup’s handle. “Don’t make fun of me, I got it for Halloween!”

Soon enough, you and Johnny are huddled on the couch together with your respective cups of coffee, watching some late night TV show that you’ve already forgotten the name of. That doesn’t matter much to you, though, as long as you have your best friend and partner with you.

Just as Johnny predicted, you’re still too wired up to sleep even as your clock’s digital numbers switch to 1 a.m. He watches as you toss, turn, and fidget on the couch, changing your position every few moments. He shakes his head, a grin inching across his face.

“Do you want to do something? You seem...restless.”

You look away from the TV immediately, shooting up from your reclining position so you’re sitting face-to-face with him. “Let’s go on a drive. But let’s take your car, I might crash if I get behind the wheel right now.” Johnny makes a face at that and shakes his head again.

“We should get changed, then.”

You and Johnny are in your street clothes a few minutes later, hopping into his car and hitting the brightly lit roads of Seoul.

“Where should we go? Or do you wanna just drive?” Johnny asks, placing his hand on your knee. You still internally swoon whenever he pulls that move, and the caffeine has you giggling more than you expected to.

“We should go to...a park or something. I wanna see some birds ‘n shit.”

Johnny snorts. “I don’t how how many birds we’ll see at night, but okay, the park it is.”

You two come across a fairly small public park not too long after. It’s deserted at this time of night, the only inhabitants being a bunch of trees, some benches, and a playset with swings. Silently, you’re glad it’s just you two, because you’re most certainly not the only couple who’s had the idea to come to this out-of-the-way park at night, and you’d rather not run up on anyone with their pants down.

“Come on,” you say, pulling Johnny along to the swingset. You get him to push you on the swing, and you soar so high that you feel like your feet could touch the tops of the trees. When you’ve had your fill, you do the same for him for a while; then you both attempt to zoom down the tiny slide. Johnny has a little more trouble fitting his large form onto the small slide and tips over the side of it halfway down, which makes you shout with laughter—loud enough to send a nearby owl flying out of a tree.

“Wow, didn’t know that little guy was there,” Johnny says, getting to his feet and dusting his pants off. “I guess whatever else is out here got a good look at me busting my ass.”

You both head back to your place once you feel like you’ve tired yourself out enough to sleep, but once you change into your pajamas, you get a second wind of energy out of nowhere. You’re suddenly wide awake again and painfully bored.

You walk out of the bathroom and into your room, where Johnny is already sitting on your bed ready to sleep. You lean against the doorframe and give him a pitiful look, sighing loudly. “Johnny, I’m not sleepy anymore.”

Johnny whines, checking the time on his phone—it’s 3:05 a.m. now. The caffeine’s effects are already wearing off for him, but although he can feel the tiredness setting in, he decides to stay up with you. “What’s next? I’m not changing clothes again, so please don’t say another drive.”

You look around your room for something you can do to pass the time when you spot your nail polishes on the dresser. Walking over to them, you gather a few in your hands and bat your eyelashes at Johnny. “Sweet boyfriend of mine, would you do something for me?”

Johnny gives you a wary look. “I’m almost afraid to ask...what is it?”

“Let me paint your nails,” you say, taking a few steps closer. Johnny throws his head back and laughs.

“Oh God, all the guys are gonna laugh at me for days.” Johnny pretends to be upset, but his smile gives away his true feelings. “Fine, go ahead; make me pretty!”

Dancing with glee, you gather the rest of the necessary things and climb onto the bed with Johnny. He offers you his hands and lets you color his nails different shades—black, blue, and pink—while he plays music on his phone. His eyes flutter shut every so often from tiredness, but he keeps himself awake to see your final masterpiece.

“Wow, such professional work,” he says, smiling as he checks out his finished fingernails. “Maybe you should be my new makeup artist.”

“Too much pressure,” you laugh, putting away the nail polish bottles while Johnny blows on his nails. “But maybe I can give you a little makeover whenever you come over.”

“That would be fun…” Johnny stifles a yawn, his eyes widening when he sees it’s already 4 a.m. “Are you tired yet?”

You stretch your arms toward the ceiling and shake your head. “Ugh. No. Maybe we could watch a movie.” You can almost see the bags under Johnny’s eyes get heavier at that. “Aww, baby. You don’t have to stay up with me the whole time, you know?” You come back over to the bed so you can push his shoulders and make him lie down, though Johnny resists your advances and throws you onto the mattress, making you scream.

“I’m the one who gave you the coffee, I’m staying up too!” Johnny argues, tickling your sides until you have tears in your eyes. “It’s fine, really. I don’t mind. We agreed we were gonna spend all night together, didn’t we?” He leans down to kiss your lips.

“You’re right.” You giggle, stroking his face in an unexpectedly intimate moment. Johnny lays a few more kisses across your face before letting you get up to switch on Netflix on your TV. He settles in beside you, telling you to choose whichever movie you want.

Hours later, you’ve both shifted from your sitting positions to lie on top of the comforter, too exhausted to pull the sheets back. You rest your head on Johnny’s chest, finally tired enough to go to sleep.

The bright sounds of birds chirping ring outside your window, along with the sounds of cars driving past sporadically. The last Netflix movie has only just ended, the credits scrolling across your screen. It’s 9 a.m.

Johnny groans and throws his hand over his eyes to block the sun filtering through your blinds; when that proves futile, he turns his body away entirely, curling himself around you. Before you drift off, you hear him speak softly, his voice rough from sleep deprivation.

“Okay...maybe we shouldn’t do this again.”

#nct johnny #nct 127 #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 imagine #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 fic #nct fic #nct fluff #nct imagines #nct scenarios #johnny fluff #johnny scenarios #johnny imagines #ambw scenarios #ambw fic #ambw kpop #ambw imagines #ambw fluff

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hellyeahheroes · 3 years

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Playing Doreen Green in Dungeons & Dragons 5E

New year, some bad things out of my system, time to try coming back to regural activities before this year crushes me again. And I know a perfect way. Let’s make a build for d&d, since I haven’t done one of those in a while, using a Marvel character that bings cheers, joy and friendship whenever she goes.

Steve Ditko had an... interesting idea what Squirrel Girl should look like. Funny how people who say modern take on the character disrespects vision of artists who drew her traditionally attractive never seem to think these guys themselves disrespected Ditko’s vision, isn’t it?

Goals: As always I’m lifting the template for this from Tulok the Barbrarian, so let us start with what we actually want from this character. First of all, we need to be able to beat the ever living crap out of everyone. Second, we need to show our foes mercy and hopefully get them to change their ways. Finally, we need an army of squirrels.

Ability Scores: Usually I go with Standard Points Array - 15, 14, 13, 12, 10, 8 - because it is the simplest way. But this built will starve for Ability Score Improvements so I decided to, just like a guy from whom I’m ripping this whole idea from, cave in and use point buy. This will be simple take, however - we will replace standard array’s 14 and 10 with extra 15 and 8

Strength: 8- not something we need to be honest. Doreen is good at everything but in D&D we need to prioritize the most important things.

Dexterity: 15 - Doreen is quick and swift as some sort of squirrel....girl...

Constitution: 12 - if someone does manage to hit her she can actually take that hit and keep going.

intelligence: 8 - wish it was higher but again, we cannot have everything. Yet.

Wisdom: 15 - Squirrels love you, you have senses of a squirrel, you survived Savage Land like a champ.

Charisma: 13 - your have a thing of talking your enemies out of villainy, as long as no one runs in to kick them in the head while you’re at it, which is rude.

Now for D&D’s equivalent of species, Race. It is unclear if Doreen is a mutant or not but I feel like trying to stray away from Variant Human a bit if we can. There is not enough animal-like things about Doreen to make her a Tabaxi, so we’ll go with Swiftstride Shifter from Eberron. You gain +2 Dexterity and +1 Charisma, Darkvision allowing you to see for 60 feet in dim light as in bright light and in darkness as in dim light, but without being able to discern colors, proficiency in Perception and Acrobatics skills, extra 5 feet of movement, Common, Quori and third language of your choice (pick something campaign relevant) and an abilitty to shift into more bestial form as a bonus action, granting you temporary hit points equal your level + your Constitution modifier, another extra 5 feet of movement and an abilitty to move 10 feet away without provoking opprtunitty attacks as a reaction whenever an enemy ends their movement next to you.

Backgorund: Build a custom one for skills in Animal Handling and Persuasion, none they offer speaks to me.

Class levels: We will start as a Monk, gaining proficiency in Strength and Dexterity saving throws, simple weapons, shortswords, a set of artisan tools of your choice and two skills - Athletics and Stealth would be my pick.

1st Level Monks gain Unarmored Defense and Martial Arts, which all work as long as you’re not wearing armor or carrying a shield. As we see from the picture above, it would be hard to call a jacket and shorts an armor. You can add your Wisdom (WIS) modifier to your Armor Class alongside yoru Dexterity (DEX) modifier, you can substitute your DEX in place of Strength for attack and damage rolls of your unarmed attacks and you roll a d4 for the damage and you can spend your bonus action to make an additional unarmed attack. You can also use simple weapons that aren’t two handed or heavy and still get these bonuses

2nd Level Monks gain Ki Points, whose number is equal to your Monk level and replenishes on short or long rest. You can spend 1 ki point to make two unarmed attacks as a bonus action or take Dodge or Disengage actions as a bonus action. You also get unarmored Movement, meaning that when not wearing armor your speed busts up to additional +10 feet.

There is an option for Monk to also gain an additional abbility allowing you to between each long rest choose one martial weapon that isn’t heavy or special and you’re profficient with to treat as a monk weapon. This isn’t something Squirrel Girl would use, I’m only bringing it up because it was added in a book Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything. Tasha, also known as Iggwilv, is considered one of greatest villains in d&d. So it’s a good think Doreen has this whole thing about befriending and trying to reform villains because from next level on we’re gonna be best friends with Tasha and her cauldron. Consider Tasha your Kraven.

3rd Level: We will switch to a Ranger, getting proficiency in Knowledge Nature and we will grab variant Ranger features from that Cauldron. Deft Explorer makes you Canny, doubling proficiency bonus you add to one of your skills, I’d go with Persuasion so that you can convince people like Kraven to switch sides.

You also get Favored Foe - it lets you mark an enemy you hit with an attack for 1 minute or until you break a concentration check (as with spells, it is a Constitution Saving throw you make while taking damage, you need to beat either 10 or a number equal half of damage dealt to you, whichever is higher, or you lose focus). During this itme whenever you hit the target for the first time in a turn you deal an extra 1d4 of damage. You can mark a foe total number of times equal your prficiency modifier betwen each long rest.

4th Level: 2nd Level Ranger can choose a Fighting Style. Let us reach to that Cauldron and grab Unarmed Fighting, which lets your fists deal 1d6 + your Strength modifier damage, 1d8 if you use two hands and 1d4 a turn to a creature you’re grappling.

You may wonder why we picked it if we already have Martial Arts? Well, let us talk about Rules as Intended (RAI) vs Rules as Written (RAW) - the idea that the way rules in a game are written may not necessairly reflect what the author wanted and reason behind many, many, many rules debates in history of RPGs. As Intended you should use your Martial Arts dice with your Martial Arts attacks but as written there is nothing saying you have to. Talk with your DM how they feel about it and if they side with RAW, you can now deal damage like 11th level Monk - 1d8+your DEX modifier. If not, grab Blind-Fighting, which makes your senses so good you can effectively “see” creatures within 10 feets of you even if you’re blinded or in darkness and even notice invisible creatures who aren’t succesfully rolling stealth to hide. Only total cover (like, a wall) stops this, giving you some sweet Squirrel Senses.

Remember when Doreen beat Wolverine? I do.

2nd Level Rangers also get to learn spells. You know two spells of 1st level and have two spell slots you can spend every long rest to cast them.

Longstrider for 1 hour adds 10 feet to your speed. For those keeping track at home that’s now 50 feet while shifting.

Hunter’s Mark requires a concentration but let’s you as a bonus action mark a target and deal it extra 1d6 damage on every hit you deal it and have an advantage on Perception and Survival checks to find it for the next hour or until you break concentration. It it drops to 0 hit points on your next turn you can move it to another target as a bonus action. It’s Favored Foe but better. Mostly because Favored Foe originally was just Hunter’s Mark but many players felt it was too powerful and asked Wizards of the Coast to nerf it in official surveys. To the utter bafflement of everyone who discuss this game online. If I felt more political I’d make a joke this is the first case ever of silent majority being a thing but after last 4 years I cannot force myself to make it funny.

5th level: 3rd Level Monks can Deflect Missiles, letting you use your reaction to catch a ranged attack that would hit you, reducing its damage by 1d10+your Monk Level+your DEX Modifier. If you reduce damage to zero you can spend a Ki Point to send it back at the attacker, making ranged attack treating missile as a thrown monk weapon you’re proficient with.

You also get too chose Monastic Tradition and Way of Mercy from Tasha’s Cauldron will let you both show mercy to your enemies and kick some more ass. You gain Proficiency in Medicine and Insight, letting you read on villains what problems may haunt them and how to help. You also get Hands of Healing, which let you for one Ki Point as an action heal a creature an amount of hit points you roll on your Martial Arts die. You can also not spend a Ki point and replace one of your Flurry of Blows attacks with this. Doreen is kind enough to help patching up beaten enemies. Also, Hit Points aren’t meat points, they can reflect someone’s will to fight. So I don’t see why you shouldn’t use it to cheer your allies up if their spirits are down - Doreen is cheerful and friendly, she is a delight to have on a team and is sure to keep the morale up. Flavor it as a good pat on the back from your Squirrel-loving pal.

Also, you get Hands of Harm. Letting you once per turn and for one Ki Point deal extra necrotic damage on a single attack, its number equal your Martial Arts Die+ Your Wisdom Modifier.

6th Level: 4th level Monks get an Ability Score Improvement, add +1 to your Dexterity and Wisdom, and Slow Fall, letting you reduce amount of damage you take from a fall by five times your Monk level. You can refluff this as gliding down on your flying squirrel gear.

Wish it could help me find better version of this appriopriate picture.

7th Level: 5th Level Monk gets an Extra Attack, letting you attack twice as a part of your action. You also get Stunning Strike, letting you spend a ki point to make the target suceed a Constitution saving throw or be stunned until end of your next turn. And your Martial Die bumps up to 1d6 - we do not use it for Unarmed attack but we do use it for other stuff, so keep a track on it.

8th Level; 6th Level Monks’ strikes become magical for the purpose of overcoming damage resistance and immunities. Also, your Unarmored Movement bumps up by another 5 fee, it’s not total of 55 feet of movement.

Way of Mercy gets Physician’s Touch, which also let’s you remove a single blinded, deafened, paralyzed, poisoned, or stunned condition from a creature you use Healing Hands on or apply poisoned condition to target of your Hands of Harm. No idea how that works. I mean maybe Doreen punches someone so hard they get nausea? And knows first aid?

9th Level; 7th Level Monks get Evasion, meaning that when you make a Dexterity Saving Throw to avoid damage, if the effect says you take half damage when you suceed, you instead take none. You also get Stillness of mind, letting you end one effect causing you to be charmed or frightened on yourself. Makes sense, Doreen clearly is not afraid of anything or anyone.

10th Level: 3rd Level Rangers gain an additional Spell Slot, an additional Spell and one extra Spell from Primal Awarenes class feature - that last one you can cast once per long rest without spending a spell slot.

You also get to pick Ranger Conclave. Swarmkeeper can summon a swarm of squirrels to aid you in combat. Whenever you hit an enemy with an attack you can dicide to make Squirrels bit them for an extra 1d6 piercing damage, force that enemy to make a Strength saving throw or be pushed away from you by 15 feet or have yourself moved up to 5 feet in any direction except up or down. You also get Mage Hand cantrip, except made of squirrels and an extra Spell you know. So for full list of spells you get:

Jump Triples your jump distance, it lasts for 1 minute with no concentration.

Speak with Animals let’s you talk to animals for 10 minutes, also no concentration required.

Faerie Fire let’s you set up lights on a 20-foot cube, making lal creatures in it roll Dexterity saving throws or be outlined, nuliffiling invisibility and giving everyone attacking them an advantage. Sadly, it requires concentration.

Mage hand can let you make a hand out of Squirrels that can carry objects no heavier than 10 pounds and do viarious tasks except for attacking or activating magical items. But this is effectively you sending a pack of Squirrels on an important quest.

11th Level: 8th Level Monks get an Ability Score Improvement, cap your Dexterity.

12th Level: 9th level Monks can now move on vertical surfaces and walk on water like Jesus as long as they don’t end their turn there. Which is good since canonically Doreen is a poor swimmer.

13th Level: 10th Level Monks gain Purity of Body, making Doreen so powerful she can punch poison and disease away from her body. I’m sure she’s still social distancing AND SO SHOULD YOU!

14th Level: 11th Level Monks' Martial Dice bumps to d8 and Way of Mercy let’s you now replace all of your Flurry of Blows attacks with healing and neither that nor touch of harm cost you ki points anymore. You can still only do the latter once each turn.

15th Level: I was sitting on 4th level of Ranger for so long, we’re taking it now for an Ability Score Improvenet....or rather a Feat. Magic Initiate let’s us learn two cantrips and a 1st level spell from the Wizard Spell list we can cas once per long rest.

Prestidigitation let’s you do small things more for mood than anything else, you can fluff it as squirrels helping you.

Message let’s you send someone a message only they can hear and let’s them reply. It’s your phone, basically.

Find Familiar allows us to conjure a squirrel that we can talk to telepatically or see through its eyes. It cannot attack but it can flank and take help action to give us an advantage on attack rolls and when it dies it doesn’t, instead it vanishes until you cast this spell again.. We can even decide to see through its eyes. That’s right ladies and gentlemen, we have Tippy Toe!

Tasha also grants you Martial Versitality, allowing you to change Unarmed Fighting to Blind-Fighting now that your Martial Arts Die caught up to it. This is the reason we waited so long for this level.

Level 16: 12th Level Monks get an Ability Score Improvement, invest in Wisdom for better Hands of Healing and Harm and Unarmed Defense.

Level 17: 13th Level Monks get Tongue of Sun and Moon, meaning you can now speak any language. I have no idea how in character it is but I could see Doreen learning extra languages to make more friends.

Level 18: 14 level Monks get Diamond Soul making you proficient in all saving throws. And you can spend a ki point to rerol a failed saving throw. Meaning now you can more or less tank everything bad guys throw at you, fireballs, Hold Persons, shove action.... And your Unarmored movement increases one last time, giving you speed of 75 feet.

Level 19: 15th Level Monks get Timeless Body, making you immune to effects of aging and no longer needing food or water to live. I kinda struggled to justifyu this one, then I remembered old Squirrel Girl from the future who is still kicking butts so here, you can now grow up to be her

Level 20: We will finish on 16th level of Monk and final Ability Score Improvement to round up Wisdom.

Before we go further let me take a moment to address possible alternatives Variant Human could let you grab Tippy Toe at first level and grab a Tough Feat.

3 levels in College of Rhetorics Bard could allow you to be really good at talking to people by making you unnable to roll lower than a 10 on Persuasion, Bardic Inspiration you could use to both support your allies and make your enemies worse with unsettling words, an extra skill, expertise in two more skills and spells like Calm Emotions, Enchance Ability, Heroism, Animal Friendship, Vicious Mockery and Tasha’s Hideous Laughter for puns. But I admit I could not fit them in any way that didn’t feel awkward, they did not mesh well with everything else and cost too much other features I wanted. If you want to go this way I recommend being Variant Human, taking Magic Initiate at first level and putting those Bard levels after Swarmkeeper Ranger ones, final build would be Monk 14/Ranger 3/Bard 3. Both this and previous bullet point would be fully legal under Adventurer’s League “you can use Player’s Handbook and one other book” rule.

Another option were two levels of Rogue for Expertise in Nature and Animal Handling and Cunning Action to decrease your Ki Points economy problem.

Finally I didn’t go for Path of the Beast Barbarian despite it letting you grow tail because that tail stabs people - something your do not.

Anyway, time for Overview:

Pros: First of all, Mobility. you have movement of up 75 feet, meaning with dash you can move 150 and with double dash 225 feet in one turn, ways to move out of enemy range and even move up walls or over water. Second, you make a lot of attacks and between Hunter’s Mark, Swarmkeeper and Hands of Harm can deal consistent damage and you have Tippy Toe to ensure you keep hitting. Finally you’re plucky heart of the team/backup healer, pretty good Party Face and a skill squirrel, making you a very good party member, someone others benefit from very much.

Cons: Your HP is somewhere below 140, which means that only vew hits or one big need to hit for you to be in Power Word Kill range. Second, your Intelligence and Strength are low enough you may fail some nasty saving throws even with Diamond Soul. Finally you have a lot of abilities that use Ki Points and Ranger spells that regenerate only on long rest, meaning you may run out of resources pretty fast if you’re not careful.

Overall, however, I do think this is a good build. You’re hard to hit, you hit hard, you unleash fury of squirrels on your foes and you can take care of yourself. Just remember you have many abilities that benefit your allies and play a very social character - d&d is a game best enjoyed as a social one - get some friends and fight evil.

-Admin

#Squirrel Girl #marvel #Dungeons & Dragons

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zankivich · 4 years

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The Arrangement: CEO’s Son/Dom!Shawn x Black Sub Reader Chapter 17

a/n: this is it y’all. And what a ride it’s been. With all the shit in the world, and the shit that’s gone down in the fandom, I wish we had a shawn like this. but alas all we have is fiction and this is the best way I could think to end it, so I hope you enjoy. That’s all folks. Peace.

*six months later*

Breaking News: Shawn Mendes has topped the Billboard 100 for his fourth week in a row with his hit single Fallin’ All In You. The pop star crashed onto the scene with the powerful ‘Youth’ co-written with his friend and fellow artist Khalid, and he hasn’t left us hanging yet! Is this the start of a new force to be reckoned with in the pop world or just a flash in the pan?

And we’re back with E! News. Shawn Mendes has stolen all of our hearts and it looks like he’s not willing to give them back. Here he is on the cover of GQ looking absolutely dashing as always. But the pop singer is not just here for his looks, it appears he’s a bit of a romantic as well. In the recent interview he chatted about his latest record, the potential grammy nominations, and...his girlfriend?!

Shawn Mendes is the biggest thing in pop music this year. Here he is walking the red carpet at the vma’s after taking home five awards from the night. And perhaps more stunning than the leading man himself was his girlfriend in tow, top artist manager in the game right now, y/f/n y/l/n. The two were quite the pair at the show and insiders say they couldn’t get enough of each other. Sorry ladies, this one’s taken!

Uh oh! Looks like there’s some drama in the world of Shawn Mendes. The young artist was seen leaving his attorney’s office in LA after being slammed with a law suite from none other than his father, the legendary Manny Mendes of Mendes Industry. Manny Mendes claims that Shawn was under contractual obligation not to release or perform any music and that the star may have actually breached his contract prior to signing to Atlantic records!

Popstar Shawn Mendes was recently spotted out in New York with his beautiful girlfriend, y/f/n y/l/n. The two were seen holding hands at a coffee shop and taking a stroll to a bookstore. It seems even celebrities still read books my friends! Y/n made news when she became the first ever manager to win Manager of the Year at Billboard’s Women in Music while simultaneously having one of her artists, Ariana Grande, take home the Woman of the Year prize. It seems the two are a power couple far on their way to dominate the music industry. I for one can’t wait to see what they do next.

*y/n’s point of view*

Sometimes you wake up from a really good dream. And you can’t remember what you dreamed about, can’t remember anything that happened, but all you get is this really pleasant feeling in your bones. This was one of those mornings. You woke up and your back cracked as you stretched and you curled your toes and groaned quietly. The sun was streaming through the windows. Your sheets were all comfy. And you opened your eyes to what? Your boyfriend looking at you like a total creeper.

You immediately groaned and rolled over away from him.

“Why are you staring at me, weirdo?”

“Well good morning to you too, love of my life. I’m feeling great, by the way.”

You giggled and rolled back over to find yourself in his arms. He pressed his lips to your forehead and settled his weight against you. The warmth was unlike anything you could experience elsewhere.

“What time did you get in?” You whispered.

His palm cupped your cheek, eyes bright and adorable.

“A little after three. Didn’t wanna wake you. I missed you.” He mumbled.

“I missed you too. They keep taking you away from me for longer and longer periods of time huh?”

He nodded softly. “Yea, unfortunately. Andrew thinks the world tour is gonna sell out though. They’re...they’re talking about adding dates, babe. I have a huge fanbase in the philippines...The philippines, y/n?! Me!”

God he was cute when he got excited. And Shawn was pretty much always excited when it came to music. The kid must be a dream to manage.

“I’m so very happy for you.” You chuckled. “Something tells me you’re gonna love it out there”

“You think?” He sighed. “I guess I just...I’m gonna miss you. Like crazy.”

“Me too.”

“Will you come visit me?” He asked pushing his way between your legs. “In LA?”

You snorted and wrapped your legs and arms around him.

“Of course.”

“Yea? How about in Paris?”

His lips touched your ear and you bit your lip.

“Mhm.”

“Brazil?”

“Yea.”

“Hmm...will you be my good girl? Let me take care of you?”

Your thighs tightened.

“I don’t know. I can be very bad when I’m abroad.”

He pulled back to stare at you, eyes less soft and fluffy and more hard and dominant. His curls were everywhere, even going so far as to tickle your nose. How could someone so fluffy be such a dom? It was astounding.

“How bad?” He asked.

You shrugged. “Why don’t you flip me over and I’ll show you?”

“Good god, I love you woman.”

You laughed into the sheets as he threw your body around like a rag doll. It was certainly good to be home.

“Everytime I’m away for a long time are you gonna make me remind you who you belong to?” He hummed against the dip in your back. “Who gets to make you feel good?”

You sighed noisily. “If I can help it.”

His hands on your body are like tidal waves. You never get used to it. Can never catch your breath to prepare for the next thrashing hold, the next grip, the next slap. The sun raises steadily into your bedroom, but neither of you notice. He’s too busy undressing you, touching you, making you beg. In the grand scheme of things, if he was going to be away for so long, the least the could do was throw your back out upon arrival home.

“Can I try somethin’?” He whispered kisses trailing up your tummy and between your breasts.

Your toes curled against his calves. You had to hold back a moan.

“What is it?”

“Well...I’d need to tie you down first.” He explained. “And then, as much as I love these beautiful eyes of yours I’d like to cover them for a little while. I thought about gagging your mouth on the plane ride home, but I think I wanna hear you cry out for me. How does that sound?”

It was a Tuesday morning. If you’d even bothered to look at the clock you would know it was eight thirty in the morning and you were due in the office soon. Meanwhile Shawn had spent his time planning out a whole ass elaborate sex dream. What was one to do?

“Go get the blind fold. Hurry.”

The dom/sub relationship continued to be one of the greatest sources of pleasure and relief in your life. There’s something about the way he kisses your ankle when he straps it to the bed. The way he checks that you’re okay when your legs are spread wide. The more vulnerable you became with each other, the more open that you were the more that you let yourself fall into these moments. Bare and naked on the bed. Nowhere to hide. Nowhere to act shy. You were on full display for him, just as he was for you. And he was in charge of your pleasure, a power that was not to be taken lightly. The good news was he knew exactly what to do with it.

“Color?”

“Green.”

“And the ropes? Do they hurt at all?”

“No, Sir.”

Without your eyes, your senses began to alter. You could sort of feel the air in the room differently. Your nipples hardened and your teeth sunk into your lip. He was watching you and you could feel it.

“What are you doing?” You murmured.

His voice came from lower, maybe between your legs at the bottom of the bed.

“Just looking. Appreciating.” He answered. “You’re beautiful baby.”

On the other side of the blind fold, Shawn was doing just that. He tilted his head back and sighed as he cupped himself firmly in his hand. While you were practically throbbing spread open for him to see, he was quite literally throbbing for you.

A groan entered the air, ending the silence.

“I missed you so much. You have no idea how much I thought about you while I was away.”

His fingers trailed up your leg and across your thigh causings your lips to part.

“S--Shawn.”

“How much I missed being inside you. Hearing you cry out for me. Are you gonna let me hear you, y/n?”

“Yes. Yes, just please touch me.”

He chuckled. “You get so impatient when I’m away.”

You sighed and pushed your hips gently towards the ceiling.

“Cause I miss what’s mine….I need it.”

You felt the bed move before you felt his presence over your body. And yet you knew the second that he was hovering over you because of the feel of his dick against your stomach. His nose skimmed your ear and you practically melted before him.

“Yours eh? You need it?”

You nodded shakily. “Please, sir? I need it so so bad.”

He sighed, long and breathy, and you could tell he wanted it just as badly as you did. You licked your lips in anticipation for it. Fuck.

“The things you do to me…Not yet. I’ve got plans for you baby girl.”

If only you knew. If only.

The buzz of it comes out of nowhere it feels like. There’s just silence. Your breathing, and the dips of the bed as he moves and nothing else. And then out of nowhere it comes buzzing. Your lips part instinctually, your body knowing something that your mind hasn’t even caught onto yet. The first time he touches it against your clit drives you wild, and before you know it the whole world sets ablaze.

“Unnnngh. Fuck.” You whimpered.

He hummed. “I got you something while I was away. What do you think?”

He’s an expert at playing you like his favorite instrument. The toy presses firmly to your clit and he rubs up and around so perfectly that you gasp. The fingers on his other hand join the party and suddenly you’re full in more ways then one. And the fact that you can’t see any of it? That there’s nothing but darkness and yet stimulation everywhere? It only heightens it all. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced.

“So wet for me. Is it because you haven’t been able to get off without me, or is it our new set up?”

You snorted. “I can get off without you just fine Mendes, just not quite this creatively.”

He chuckles and you smile, the ability to move in and out of this scene that the two of you play with one another, feels like all the love and trust that you’d chosen to given to him exclusively.

He finds his way on top of you again. The feeling of his presence and his weight rocking you to our very core. The vibrations don’t let up and your thighs begin to burn from the exertion, but here you are. You can feel the heat of his hard on and the feel of his breath against your clavicle. It’s too much. Your body can’t handle all the different sensations, but Shawn doesn’t seem to care.

His lips latch on to one of your nipples and the result is catastrophic. You burst from within for him. Like a wave crashing against the shore. Inevitable. Euphoric. Your back arches and the restraints dig into your skin as you threatened to bust out of your skin let along the ropes. It’s so powerful that it brings tears to your eyes, and a sob from your very gut.

“Oh my god! Ohmygod ohmygodohmygodohmygod! S--Stop!”

The vibrations disappear just like that. Suddenly your face in his hands and he’s ripping off the blindfold.

“Are you okay?! Did I hurt you?” He cried. “Y/n, speak!”

And then you started to giggle...softly at first and then loud and unabashed. Your knees were pulled awkwardly together against the resistance of the ropes. When Shawn saw that you were okay he rolled his eyes in that way of his. He was so cute and fluffy when he wasn’t making you cum your brains out.

“You’re gonna give a fucking heart attack one of these days you know that?”

You snorted softly and licked at your dry lips.

“Well damn daddy, how you gone tie a sister up and and put a fucking witachi wand to her and be shocked when she cums like she’s being electrocuted? You gotta commit, sir!”

He busted out laughing in that way that made his whole body shake, even his curls. You loved those laughs of his. They were everything to you. He hid is face in your neck. You could feel his laughter against your collarbone. You loved him then, more than anything in the whole world. The love of your life, he was.

It’s not until he pulls back far enough so that you can see his eyes again that the thing that is molten hot in your gut comes back. He is way too fine for his own good.

“How ‘bout I commit to making you cumall over my cock with that wand a few times? And then i thought I could take you to breakfast before work...and perhaps stop in again for a little late lunch?”

You closed your eyes and moaned.

“Put the blind fold back on.”

“Yes ma’am.”

***

There are things called insiders in the industry. It’s nosey, but very well connected people who just tend to know shit. And not like the people who leak to the tabloids, those were like commoners compared to royalty. Industry insiders could make or break a narrative. Which meant, y/n like to keep a few of them in her back pocket. It meant knowing the good shit before anybody, and more importantly...the bad shit so that you could plan and get ahead. Luckily this time it wasn’t news to get ahead of. Just perhaps news to keep a secret.

“Oh no. I know that face. You’re either about to wreck my life, or make my day. Either way one of us is leaving here in tears.” You sighed.

Into your office walked Caroline Graves, music industry insider, and one of your greatest friends though you didn’t see each other much. Caroline usually walked with gusto and poise. Today she was timid and shy, her big wide eyes tantalizing with secrets. She surely had something to share.

She smiled awkwardly. “Hi, babe!”

“Don’t ‘babe’ me. Have a seat.” You snorted.

She nodded and slid smoothly into the seat before you. She was slim and tiny with long blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She was about as white as they came, but she was a feminist to the core and the two of you had vouched for each other for years. Today was no different.

“I have news…” She began.

You chuckled. “Sis, everytime you come in here ya got news. Now what is it?”

“Something is circulating about the grammys.”

This had you sitting up straighter in the seat.

“Yea?”

“The word on the street is...Manny Mendes is trying to get Shawn Mendes barred from a single nomination.”

You bit your lip in anger. “That cold-hearted, Voldemort acting ass bastard. I should have expecto patronum’d his ass when I had the chance.”

She raised her eyebrow at you only for you to shrug.

“My boyfriend likes harry potter. When he’s happy I tend to be happy too. Please go on.”

“Apparently he’s got no grounds for the lawsuit he slapped Shawn with. He’s gonna lose the suit and he knows it, so he’s trying to pay anyone and everyone to change their score cards. Because the other word on the street is...Shawn’s gonna be up for Best New Artist, Album of the Year, Best Collaboration, Record of the Year, and Pop vocal.”

Your eyes widened. “I’m sorry?!”

She nodded. “I was just as surprised. But his debut album hasn’t left the top ten since he released it. He’s got three of the top songs of the year under his belt, and the kid is damn charming. The world loves an underdog, but you know what they love even more? A rich kid who gives it all up to chase his dream.”

“Well...shit. Shit….I mean...Shit.” You mumbled, collapsing back in your seat. “Even I didn’t call that.”

“No one did. I just want you to be aware that if my sources are right, and I’m sure you would know better than most, if Shawn’s lawyers push for the dismissal of the case and for his master’s to be returned? Things might just get a lot messier than he’s prepared for.”

“Dammit. Okay. Well thanks for the heads up. Now tell me what else is going on in this fucked up world?”

***

You heard the most peculiar sound coming from outside your door. It was a whirring sound, the kind of hypnotic machine rumblings that might make one feel nostalgic about your mother cleaning on the weekends. Perhaps it was only peculiar because you weren’t on the other side of the door, and thus to hear the sound didn’t quite make sense.

You slid your key into the door carting your purse and laptop bag into the house. Your confusion quickly came to an end when you found your boyfriend standing on the couch in sweatpants and nothing else as he attempted to vacuum the rug in the living room. In any other sense it was a vision of complete and utter ridiculousness. And yet there was nothing but tenderness in your heart. You leaned against the door with glee watching him with his tongue poised between his lips in concentration. He lifted the cord to the vacuum cleaner way high into the air as he attempted to go under the coffee table. The result was that it knocked the plug out of the wall, shutting the thing off.

“Shit.” He muttered.

A giggle passed your lips alerting Shawn that he was no longer alone. The frustration on his face turned to pure joy at the sight of you, a look that you could never get used to in a million years. He was too soft for his own good, and you loved him endlessly.

“Hey,” He smiled. “Are you spying on me?”

You shook your head, finally setting your stuff down on the kitchen table.

“Not spying...just admiring. The place looks great by the way.”

His smile only grew larger at the praise, and he quickly hopped down off the couch to make his way over to you.

“Really? I’ve been cleaning all day. I wanted it to look nice when you came home.”

His arms came to wrap around you and you quickly wrapped him up in your grasp as well. The warmth of his hold and the love that seemed to radiate from within him was enough to make you melt. And he knew this of course.

“Well it does. It looks amazing.” You hummed.

“Yea? How would you know, you’ve barely looked around. You’re just staring at me.”

“Exactly. And I like what I see.”

“Oh yea?” He asked leaning closer so your noises touched.

“Mhm.”

His lips were soft and heaven like against yours. The entire day seemed to wash away when he touched you. And you still couldn’t fathom how he managed to do that. He pulled back just far enough so that your foreheads could rest against one another and you could peer up into his eyes as he spoke.

“I know work has been really crazy for the both of us with award season. And I know I haven’t been home much--”

You quickly interrupted. “Hey, you do not need to apologize to me for working your ass off. It’s been an incredibly successful year, Shawn. You deserve it.”

“No I know, I know. I’m just saying I can also recognize that for every second I’m out there succeeding, I’m not here. And I just want you to know that I still appreciate you and us and our life that we have here. I want to build and sustain a life with you more than anything. That’s important to me.”

He had those stupid pouty lips and those ridiculous big brown eyes. It was a wonder anyone had ever said no to the bastard ever. You loved him. Oh god did you love him. He probably could get down on one knee and your ass wouldn’t even hesitate. Oh how times had changed for you.

You nodded gently. “Thank you. That means so much to me. Thank you for cleaning the house and for taking care of me. I appreciate you.”

“I appreciate you too. I appreciate everything that you do for me and for our apartment and for the world. What do you say I take you out to dinner tonight. Give you the night off from cooking.”

“Hmmm...Can I put on something sexy for the occasion?”

He rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. “Baby, I’d be hurt if you didn’t.”

Changing out of the outfit from a day of stress and anxiety into something that had your man taking pause where he lied on your bed as you got ready was beyond worth it. You’d gone for a silk red dress that hit mid thigh and wrapped around you tightly. It was the kind of dress that made you lean back with your shoulders, that brought the poise and elegance that could only be achieved when you knew you were that bitch. With winter came protective styles and you were more than happy with your high bun that was sleeked to perfection.

“You look so pretty.” He sighed from the bed.

His eyes were big and hesitant when you looked at him from the mirror. It was as if he wanted to touch but knew he needed permission. God what a man.

You bit your lip. “You look kinda pretty too. Come ‘ere.”

Shawn was decked out in a nice pair of slacks, an upgrade to his usual skinny jeans, and dress shoes to match. He knew you preferred them to the chelsea boots so he usually only pulled them out for special occasions. Speaking of things he knew you liked, his dress shirt was a beautiful ocean blue and the buttons were non-existent. Ya man had his tiddies out exactly the way you liked him. But no stress woke friends, your tiddies were out too. Equality.

He wrapped his arms around you from behind and kissed the side of your head as you stared at each other through the mirror. The way he pressed himself against your ass was not lost on you, nor was the way you arched your back lost on him.

“Damn we look good.” You snickered.

He grinned. “Baby I don’t mean to toot our own horns but like...we’re fine as fuck.”

“Boy, toot toot toot. We are FWINE, with a W. I know we don’t believe in publicly sucking face like those obnoxious PR couples that have to keep careers afloat, but I think the world deserves to see this.”

“I think you’re right, my love.”

Two selfies--one of Shawn in a crouched position with the prayer hands staring up at you like the GAWDESS you were and another silly cute one of you sticking your tongues out at the camera--later you were off to dinner. The fact that you end up at your favorite restaurant is a surprising delight. Nothing feels out of the ordinary because your man took care of you on a regular basis. Dinners out and dressing up was a weekly occurrence, especially when you weren’t busy. However with grammys looming over your heads alone time had been scarce. So him going out of his way to make time mattered a lot to you. A lot alot.

You kept your face hidden in his neck on the ride there, a personal driver now the norm for your hotshot boyfriend. He’d gone and made you sentimental and sappy and there was nowhere to hide how you felt. Shawn had been more than patient with your difficulties in sharing emotions. But you had grown significantly.

“I love you.” You hummed against his neck.

His hands had been intertwined with yours, and he paused from playing with them to squeeze tightly at the digits.

“I love you too, sweetheart. More than anything.”

You shook your head playfully, voice small in his ear. “Not but like a lot. Like a lot, a lot.”

He chuckled. “Yea?”

You nodded, the fingers not intertwined with his finding place in his curls.

“I just can’t really imagine my life without you in it, I guess. You’re my person.”

He turned in his seat so that your legs moved over his knees and your bodies were more overlapped than apart. His palm found your cheeks and you melted like only he could cause, like only he was capable of producing within your being.

“Well good. I don’t really plan on you being without me anytime soon. I hope that’s okay?”

You nodded again. “More than okay. Don’t go away.”

“Never.”

Dinner is splendid.There’s a new added layer of paparazzi appearing outside before you’ve even arrived. Shawn can’t really go anywhere unseen anymore, but you’d never met someone so worth enduring it for. It feels simultaneously like romance and love while also feeling like a random tuesday with your best friend. Somehow he still manages to make you laugh. Somehow he can still get your toes to curl beneath the table. He asks if you’ll be his date to the grammys. You agree only if he’ll take you out for pizza after. He promises. You know he’ll uphold it. By the time desert comes you don’t think the night could get any better. You’re wrong.

“Hey do you mind if we stop at the studio real quick? I left my guitar there earlier when I was laying down a track.” He asks.

You agree because what reason do you have to say no? In hindsight never in a gazillion years would Shawn leave his guitar at a studio. He’d hold in his lap on the plane if they let him.

It’s the same studio you took him too that first time he showed Khalid how to lay a vocal better than the producer could. When he asks you to follow him in and the lights are dimmed beyond belief, you don’t get it. The fact that his guitar is nowhere to be found might certainly be a hint, but apparently you were dumb as a bag of rocks.

“Will you uh...will you sit for me?” He asked pulling up a chair by the vocal booth.

You raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“It’ll all make sense in a second.” He smiled. “Please?”

You hesitantly lowered yourself into your seat, facing Shawn as he smiled at you. His knees were bouncing, his hands waving anxiously as he tried to balance them. You hadn’t seen him so nervous since...since he asked you out on your first date. The hell?

“Shawn?” You asked. “What the hell is goin’ on?”

He swallowed. “I...I wrote you a song. And I just finished it this afternoon. Can I play it for you?”

There's that softness in his eyes again. The personification of puppy-love. He had only ever asked to give you the world since you met him, and he fought through every single wall you’d had put up long before he arrived, until he could. He plays with his rosary around his neck and flicks the beads back and fourth between his thumb and forefinger. The anxiety comes off of him in waves. He’d never been so nervous to share a song with you before. It must mean that it meant more to him than usual. The least you could do was indulge him.

“Of course.”

It’s beautiful. Perhaps the most beautiful thing he’d ever written. And drastically different from the album. Shawn had gone for R&B and soul on the record with that pop flair that made for a commercial hit. But this was all singer-songwriter. Intricate chords on the guitar. Raw vocals. Nothing else. And the words are just for you and him. It’s your life together in a song. Things that no one but the two of you could ever understand. Cooking on sunday afternoons because you hadn’t left bed until then. Your head in his lap, his fingers in your scalp when your braids were hurting. His lips on your neck. It was you. And no one else.

“Well...What did you think?” He mumbled spinning aimlessly in his chair like a toddler hyped up on sugar.

You smiled widely. “I think...I think I’m really fucking lucky to be loved by you. It’s beautiful. What is it, the next single?”

He shook his head and it made his curls bounce. God was he cute.

“Not exactly.”

“Okay, well what’s it for?”

“I’ve been thinking lately ya know? About us, and about the life that we have together. In our apartment. And I just have been thinking about how I could maybe make it better for you--no baby, just let me finish,” He whined when you went to interrupt him. “Not because it sucks but because I’m always thinking of how it could be better. And there are things I still wanna give you ya know?”

You bit your lip, for some reason willing to indulge him.

“Yea? Like what?”

He rolled closer and closer and took your fingers in his own. Intertwined.

“I wanna give you a house. With an office, so that you can get work done but I can still come see you and bother you. I wanna give you a jacuzzi like that one we found in the Domincian Republic that one time? I wanna give you...a baby one day. You know if you--if that’s what you want. If we decide that’s what we want together. I want your mom to retire. I want you to never have to worry about anything ever again. I want to dominate the world with you, build an empire, a legacy.”

Now it was your legs that were shaking. You didn’t know how he could manage to make you feel so overwhelmingly full of love. You have not a clue how you had managed to snag him of all people. It was utterly unbelievable, and you simply would never be willing to give it up.

“And just how in the world do you expect to make all that happen, silly?”

He chuckled nervously and squeezed your fingers.

“Can I be honest?”

“That’s all I ask.”

“I haven’t quite figured it all out yet. Do you think you’d be okay with giving me a little time?”

You laughed. “Of course, babes. Take as much time as you need.”

“How ‘bout forever?”

“Forever? Well I’m not getting any younger, sir.” You snorted.

He shook his head softly, letting the wheels of his chair fall back so that he could make his way to one knee. The image had its intended effect. You froze like a lobster being tossed into the pot, and probably were just as red beneath all the melanin.

“I promise that no matter what happens, I’m gonna do everything in my power to give you everything you’ve ever wanted. I want to love you for the rest of our lives. I want to be your partner in crime. Always. Baby, will you marry me?”

“Shawn….S--Shawn...That’s an engagement ring.” You whispered.

He nodded. “It is. It’s your engagement ring. If you want it. Do you want it?”

Your fingers felt over your chest to feel the way your heart was beating so fast it might burst through. You’d spoken about it. Had had the whispered dreams in each other's ears in bed late at night. He’d promised it one day even, but never had you seen this one coming. Ever. And certainly not this soon.

“I….YES! Gimme!”

“Yea?!”

“YEA!”

He fumbles with the ring and just barely gets it onto your finger before he’s in your lap kissing you, still on his knees for you like it was nothing. Your arms wrapped tightly around him as his lips melded to yours and it couldn’t have felt any better. He was yours. A fact you had known and felt secured in for so long you could remember no different. But this was different. This was him asking you for forever. Just the two of you. Thick and thin. The whole shebang. This was love at the highest level, and trust, and compassion, and heart.

There are tears on your face and on his. You try to wipe lip gloss from his lips while he rubs at your eyes that are leaking. It’s very much the two of you. Messy and dramatic and ridiculous, but equal. When he pulls you into his arms your heart is fully and infinitely his. And there’s no space to miss it because you’ve already got his in return to fill the space.

“I love you more than anything. I can’t wait to marry you.” He smiled.

“Me neither. Me neither. I love you so much.” You whispered. “Can we go home now and make love please?”

His eyes widened. “Just like that aye?”

“Just like that.”

“You haven’t even looked at your ring.” He chuckled pulling your arms from around his neck.

You rolled your eyes. “Oh Shawn you know I don’t care about material pos--WELL DAMN! Suddenly I can’t see. Suddenly I am blinded by the light! SHEESH!”

The thing was massive. A beautifully elegant, diamond encrusted band wrapped around your finger. It was easily overshadowed by the diamond itself. The classic princess cut, which he had somehow picked out without ever asking you. You didn’t know how many carats it was, and in reality it didn’t really matter. If you knew him, and you did, it wasn’t about being flashy. It was truly about giving you everything he thought you deserved. And this had just been another on the very long list.

“It’s beautiful. You know that.” You sniffled holding your finger up to the light. “Jesus, Shawn.”

“I had it designed after we moved in together. I might have asked Ti for some pointers.” He smiled reaching your hand. “I just wanted it to be perfect.”

“It is. It really is. Please come here?”

More kissing. More holding. More love. More emotion. Being in love is a lot of work y’all.

“Please...Please take me home now.” You murmured when the warmth of his hands on your hips had begun to burn through your dress and all you wanted was to thank him...and thank him...and thank him.

“You have no idea how much I want that….But I actually have another proposition for you.”

At this you paused.

“Oh for the love of all that is holy! Shawn my heart cannot take anymore tonight. What in the caucasity could you possibly have to show me?” You whined.

“I cannot wait to tell our children how you made me swoon on the night I proposed.” He snickered, suddenly handing you a thick, padded envelope. “I thought you might like to be my business partner as well as my life partner.”

In the folder were documents detailing the lawsuit of Mendes Industries versus Shawn. It documented the trial, and the win on Shawn’s lawyer’s part. It documented all of the songs that they'd won back, all his hard work that was now his possession again. And it offered the trademark to a new name, a new industry one might say….S+Y Industries. and it had the audacity to list your name as CEO.

“What in the entire fuck is this?” You gasped. “And speak quickly because you know I slap irrationally when I get excited.”

And suddenly his hands found your hips again, like a little rum rubbing against the gums of a teething baby, lulling you into his hold. You could smell his cologne and his heat and it made your heart beat calm if only slightly.

“See I had this incredible manager, who wasn’t a manager, decide to craft my contract on an album by album deal, which means after this tour...I have options. And so I thought maybe I might house all of my work from the past, present, and future, under my own label. And then I thought how crazy that was...how I couldn’t do it alone, so I just thought...maybe you might like to run it with me.”

His hands trembled against your waist. It was the only indication that you weren’t crazy, that this was indeed the wildest shit anyone had ever asked of you in your whole life. Of everything you could have ever expected from this, this wasn’t even in the same stratosphere. To run your own label had been a dream of yours since you were a child. When he had said he wanted to give you the world, the man wasn’t joking.

“Baby you--you gotta speak. My heart is pounding. I’m going crazy over here.” He mumbled licking his lips.

Your body slowly unfroze as you looked up from the paperwork and into the eyes of the craziest man you’d ever met in your life.

“Well that’s what your pasty ass gets for pulling this shit on me like this.”

He only smiled softly at you. “You’ve got a point. So uh...what do you say?”

“I say...I’ll have to have my lawyers read over it of course. And my terms for being CEO will only be founded on the basis that my salary increases from what I’m making now. We’ll need to discuss what your role as President will be, and what that will look like within the context of the company as you continue to tour and make music of course. And I want to make sure you’re protected from--”

“Sweetheart,” He whispered, pulling your eyes to him. “Just say yes. I’ll do whatever you want. You know that. Just say yes.”

You nodded silently, admittedly a little lost in his eyes and his confidence and his soul. Jesus.

“Y--Yes.”

“Come here.”

And he kisses you again and again and again until your bodies are more one than two. Until your heart beats both faster and slower at the same time. Until it’s just the two of you against the world. You liked your odds.

*two months later*

*Shawn’s point of view*

There’s a reason why he needs her with him at all times. There’s a reason why his hands shake when she’s not holding him. A reason why his breathing is out of sorts when she’s not around. There’s a reason why they’re sat in the front row at the Grammys and a reason why he makes them point out her seat in the crowd for him.

The grammys were the most terrifying night of his whole entire life. A lot of people felt like they could define a night, a year, an entire career. But they could never mean more than to a boy who had grown up with them around the house, who had seen them on the coffee table, who had to leave his life behind to even get a shot at one. The Grammys meant that the world had accepted him, had welcomed him in with open arms...despite his dad doing everything in his power to get them not to. But they also meant that she had believed in him like no one had, like not even he had.

So, that night when he performs he’s only performing for her. And he’s only singing to her. Perhaps for that reason alone it’s one of the smoothest performances he’s ever had. When the last note rings out, he lets his guitar fall against his thigh and he holds his fingers to his lips to send a kiss her way. He knows the camera is on the two of them. He wants them all to know that no one has ever loved anyone the way he loves her. And the kiss she sends back his way is all he’ll ever need. It’s the icing on the cake. To be loved by her. He was ready to go home with that and only that. You have to believe that.

He walks backstage and Andrew is waiting there with a guy dressed in all black and a headpiece in his ear. They both stop him, and he’s just a little bit annoyed that he can’t get back to y/n faster. They had a game plan to take a drink every time Alicia Keys performed a random song that night.

“What’s up?”

“They’re about to announce Best Collaboration and Best Pop Vocal. You’re up for both, so you’re staying here.”

He winced. “W--Wait can I...can I go back to my seat first?”

Andrew shook his head. “What? No, man. Come on the camera’s ready to go.”

“But y/n! She’s got my phone, I can’t even text her.”

“You can look at her if you win the grammy, now stop whining!”

His heart pounds. His legs shake. His hands wreak havoc on his guitar until they yell at him for playing and take the damn thing away from him. It’s the scariest minute of his whole entire life. He’s lucky they hadn’t started drinking quite yet.

“And the winner for best collaboration goes to….Shawn Mendes ft. Khalid, “Youth”!!!!”

The curtain backstage opens and he doesn’t move. Because surely there’s a mistake. Surely Ariana Grande or someone else won. He was just a guy with a guitar. There was no fucking way.

“SHAWN GO!” Andrew huffed pushing him towards the stage.

Khalid is already there. Shawn feels so stunned he waddles awkwardly toward the stage. Fucking Lizzo is standing there for Christ sake. Khalid is all smiles and jumps on him with love and a squeezed hug. He still can’t believe it.

Lizzo hands him the fucking grammy and suddenly its in his hands. His hands. And the whole room goes silent because they’re waiting for him to speak. Him.

“I...I don't know what to say.” He mumbled.

“THAT’S MY MANS. STAND UP TALL BOY!”

He looks over in the direction of her and she’s standing for him. She’s got tears in her eyes. She’s smiling so big it looks like it hurts. For him. All for him. And because she said so his spine straightened. Because it was actually all for her.

“I...can only thank one person on this earth for this grammy and for this year and for this life that I have now.” He sniffled, throat tightening as he turned to her. “You found me when I was nothing but a trust fund asshole who couldn’t look more than two feet in front of him. You loved me and healed me and cherished me when no one else would. This is only because of you. Because you’re the most talented human being in this room, and you work harder than any of us. Because for some reason you think I’m worthy of your love. Thank you. I--I’m gonna spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I love you. T--Thank you.”

It’s like walking on butterflies. It’s like doing coke and ecstasy and molly all at once. His ears feel like they’ve burst. His heart is thudding so fast he’s given up on trying to calm down. He just wants to go to her. He’s not too proud to wipe away the tears in his eyes, and there’s a moment where Khalid and he just hold each other. Because they just wrote a song about how the world wasn’t fair, and it had somehow been recognized by that very world. In the middle of this hug, he is once again tugged in a different direction against his will, because why the fuck not.

Best pop vocal album doesn’t even make sense. Like it was actually wild. He had thought it was ridiculous when he got nominated, and for them to hand him the award is just absurd. Absolutely absurd.

“What the hell?” He asked y/n through the mic, because apparently he could only speak to her during his acceptance speeches. “I really thought Ariana had this one.”

Ari was sitting next to y/n in a ball gown that nearly swallowed her, but he could at least see the two of them nodding at each other.

“So did we!”

“I’m so sorry.” He mumbled to both of them, incredibly sincere. “Uh...I wanna thank my fans for even buying the music and coming to see me.That is the wildest thing in the world to me and I promise to never take it for granted. I’m gonna leave now. Okay bye.”

They finally let him go back to his seat during the commercial break. He practically falls into her arms. Her lip gloss coats his mouth and he couldn’t be happier. Finally, with her fingers on him he can relax.

“I can’t believe you used your first grammy speech to just ramble about me.” She whined wiping away the colored lip gloss. “Did you not write a damn speech like I told you too?”

He shook his head softly. “I didn’t think I would win. And you--you looked so pretty. I got starstruck. I won two grammys baby, I’m the happiest guy alive right now. Now can we please get drunk and listen to Lady Gaga? It’s all I want.”

“Sorry sweetheart. You’re up for three more tonight. No alcohol for you.”

“I...What? But--But what about our drinking game?”

“You have a reputation to uphold sir.” She said sternly.

He simply pouted at her with as soft of a look as humanly possible. She raised an eyebrow as if it wouldn’t work. His fiance was a tough cookie to crack.

*ten minutes later*

“Look babe! Alicia is at the piano again!” He murmured excitedly.

“Alright. Down the hatch!”

And the tequila kept coming for the rest of the night.

*an hour later*

“Babe, I wanna go home.” He whined into her shoulder.

“Mmm, can’t yet. There’s still like three more awards left. You’re three for five babe.”

“You smell so good. I think your collarbones are my favorite body part. I’d like to dedicate some time to them later if you’d let me”

She giggled. “Boy, we’re in public.”

He pouted at her, a bit annoyed that this award show was stopping him from making love to her already.

“Then let’s leave. Right now. We can elope. I don’t even need a wedding. Just you, me, a bottle of champagne, and that villa in Rome. What do you say?”

“I say….you need to give me your cup before you slip and tell the whole world we’re engaged.”

No fun.

He leans on her shoulder and stares up at her wondering how the hell she got so pretty when the next awards are called.

“It is time to announce Best New Artist. Past winners have included Alessia Cara, Doa Lipa, and me, Billie Eilish. Here are the nominees.”

“Baby, I love you.” He whispered pursing his lips for a kiss.

“You are on camera. They’re about to announce your award, babes.”

“There’s no way in hell I won, y/n. Look I’m so content right now I just wanna--”

“And the winner is...SHAWN MENDES.”

And suddenly he was upended by the gracious melanated pillow that was his fiance's titties. Truly a crime against humanity.

“GO!” The entire first row yelled as he stared around owlishly.

Tequila is a hell of a thing.

He reached for her hand and immediately began walking towards the stage, not at all concerned by her yelling at him or trying to remain in her seat. Fat fucking chance.

He gets her on the stage and they both hug Billie, and he has a moment where he realizes he actually fucking won, and what that means. They hand him the award and y/n tries to step back with BIllie but he won’t let go of her hand, wouldn’t dream of letting go of her hand. She’s not wearing his ring in that moment, and he knows exactly why, but he can still feel it -- the commitment, between the two of them. That will never fade.

“I’m so sorry that I’m up here again. I--I’m sure that you’re sick of me. But, I’m so glad I get the chance to have her up here with me just once. I don’t uh I don’t get to talk about all that she’s done for me, mostly because she won’t let me. And mostly because her job is to make people like me and a lot of you get to a place where we can share our stories and our passion through music. But not all of us are that lucky. And for a long time, I wasn’t.”

He peered over at her for courage and strength and perhaps because he just liked to look at her. When she smiled it made him feel safe. And so he kept talking.

“I signed a contract with my father when I was fifteen years old...and I thought he wanted the best for me, thought that he’d make me a star or something. But instead he took every song I ever wrote and kept it from being released. And he didn’t let me perform, record, or even write anything that could be viewed in public for years. And I think a lot of people in this room wouldn’t even know what to do with themselves if they couldn’t create. Music is what makes me--us--human. I’m nothing without it.” He peered down at his grammy and swallowed thickly. She pressed her fingers against his back and it was like he could breathe better, so he smiled at her “But uh it would mean nothing if I didn’t have you. I’m gonna write songs about you for the rest of my life. I’m gonna love you for the rest of my life. And if we get a couple grammys for it that’ll be cool. But I’m me because you allowed me to be. So this is for you. Okay? No take backs.”

He hands her the award and rests his hands upon her waist. They’re shaking, but he can’t tell when she’s kissing him in front of the whole world. The applause that rings out around them might as well be background noise. He’s got nothing in his head, his heart, his field of vision, but her. And he kind of wants it to stay that way forever.

That alone could be the end of the story. And he’d never ask for another thing again. But instead they take home album of the year and he has to get up there and make another speech. He was sick of speeches, and he was sure the rest of the audience was too. So he quickly thanked his collaborators, Khalid again, Niall for essentially creating the record with him, Andrew, everyone at the label, his mum. You know, the people he couldn’t thank when he was do busy praising y/n?

“Sorry again. I guess I could have thanked all those people earlier in the night but I just wanted to spend some time talking about my fiance tonight. It’s my favorite thing in the world. Have a good night everyone!”

And a bit of a gasp rings out across the crowd. And he pauses cause he’s not quite sure what’s going on. He looks to Alicia who gave him the award and her eyes are wide. Not a great sign. He peers over to y/n because surely she could tell him what the hell had happened. She stares him down like a wolf that hasn’t eaten in a few weeks. Even Ariana Grande is shaking her head at him in a big puffy dress like she’s disappointed. And the poor bastard that he is, he truly doesn’t know what he did wrong at first.

“Well that’s what it’s all about folks. Love. It’s a beautiful thing. I think I speak for us all when I say we wish y/n and Shawn nothing but the best in their marriage. That’s our show tonight. Have a wonderful night and spend some time spreading love and positivity.”

Oh God.

“What did I do? What did I do?!” He asked her walking down the steps of the stage.

“You told the whole world we’re getting married, boy. Get your pasty ass down here!”

He walks back to her like a puppy with its tail between its legs. He was genuinely the dumbest fucker alive.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I--I didn’t mean to--it just slipped out!” He apologized. “At least I didn’t tell them about the label.”

She rolled her eyes. “I simply cannot believe you’re my forever. You just won five grammys. Shut up and kiss me already.”

That much he could do.

The End.

Permanent taglist

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archfraggle · 3 years

Text

These two passages about gender euphoria from the gender dysphoria bible

Imagine a person who was born in a cave, who spent their entire life living underground, their only source of illumination being candles and oil lamps. Imagine they’ve never been above ground, they don’t even know the surface exists. Then one day a cave-in happens in a side tunnel, and reveals an opening to the surface. Sunlight pours into the opening, and at first it is blinding and the person runs away in fear. Later they return to the opening, and as the person’s eyes adjust they look out through the hole and see a bright and brilliant world full of colors they didn’t even know existed.

That world is scary, it’s huge and full of unknowns, so they crawl back into the cave for safety, but that hole is still there, and they see the light every time they pass it. Gradually they peek out more and more frequently, and further and further from the opening. They start to want that light, they find reasons to visit it more often.

Eventually they realize that they don’t want to go back into the hole any more. They have to go back, because that is where their family and friends are, but this place is so much better, they want to stay here. Going back into the hole feels wrong, it starts to hurt to be in the dark so much.

...

Many trans people have no idea how much pain they are in until they find small bits of relief. Cosplay, stage acting, drag, role playing games, video games; small little forays into a different gender than they have lived as. They find that it feels just a little bit more comfortable. They’ll make up excuses for why (“If I’m gonna be looking at this character’s ass, it might as well be a girl’s ass.”), they’ll try to convince themselves it’s all just for fun, or an artistic expression. They might tell themselves that the bits of joy they feel at hearing a different pronoun are just novelty. But soon they find themselves looking for reasons to get that more often. More and more frequently they’re role playing characters of a different sex, building more costumes, buying more clothes, performing more often. You find yourself wanting to do that all the time, because it just feels better than your real life, and being “you” starts to hurt. Eventually, the old you becomes the costume.

This is the most fundamental reason why we as a community say “you do not need dysphoria to be trans”, because black ink on a black canvas isn’t visible without close examination and a lot of light.

#trans #transgender

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themangoyogurt · 4 years

Text

Misguided Youth: And The Third

Chapter 3

Bouncing on your heels, you roughly rubbed your hands up and down your biceps in an attempt to stave off the cold. The brisk autumnal air was nipping at your exposed neck, and you mentally cursed Phasma’s friend for being late. Knowing what a shitstorm coatcheck usually was after concerts, you decided to forgo wearing a coat, and instead braved the chill in a lightweight military jacket you could tie around your waist. Unsure of what kind of music was being played, you erred on the side of caution with your typical Dr. Martens, ripped skinny jeans, and a thin ribbed henley top in your favorite color.

It would do. It wasn’t like you were here to impress anyone.

Certainly not Kylo.

You groaned thinking about the dark haired man, and immediately hated yourself for it. The guy was a total jackass, and didn’t deserve a single second of your precious time. Not even if he was built like roman statue. The size of his hands didn’t go unnoticed by you either. You definitely didn’t imagine said hands wrapped around your throat while he...

“Hey! You’re Phasma’s guest, right?”

You snapped to attention as a short dark-haired man appeared in front of you. He took in your nod, and immediately reached for a handshake while introducing himself as Mitaka. You followed him towards a metal door marked “Restricted Access” while tugging on a lanyard with a flimsy laminated card that read “VIP”.

He chatted about his job as a freelance writer pitching stories to various magazines and newspapers. Mitaka was ecstatic when Phasma found you. He was hoping to write an article where he would “expose” individuals to musical artists they had never heard, and record the reactions.

Turning to you, he exclaimed, “I didn’t think that I’d ever fine someone who didn’t know K.O.REN! When Phasma told me about you, I felt like I hit a gold mine. Thanks again for coming out!”

“Uh, no problem. This band...they’re really big, huh? Then why are they playing at such a small venue tonight?”

The current building seemed rather small. At least too small for a supposed "big name" band to be messing around in. Didn’t world famous musicians sell out stadiums or something?

“They just got back from Rock am Ring in Germany. It’s a huge three-day metal festival with over 150,000 people. Whenever they finish tours with large audiences, they make sure to book smaller and more intimate venues afterwards. The lead singer says it keeps them grounded.”

It seemed like a respectable thing to do. In fact, it was almost kind of sweet. Suddenly, a word from Mitaka’s sentence jumped out at you.

“Wait...did you just say metal festival?”

“Yeah, they’re a metal-ish band. More hard rock I’d say, but they’re still really popular.”

You thought back to Phasma’s cropped hair bleached white, and the multitude of studs peppered along the collar of her denim jacket. Yeah, she definitely looked “metal-ish”. But Hux and Kylo were dressed far more “normal” in just jeans and simple tops. Maybe they didn’t listen to the same music? But people don’t need to dress a certain way to enjoy different types of music...

Mitaka suddenly cleared his throat, and you were jerked back to the present. He gestured towards a section partitioned off by ropes. The spot was perfect - just out of sight from the audience but with a perfect view of the stage. It seemed as if the concert was close to starting, since everything was set up and the room was filled to the brim with chattering people.

Clear across the stage, you noticed the silhouettes of three people. Even from this distance they all looked ridiculously tall. Squinting your eyes, you tried to make out the individuals, but the bright stage lights were blinding. The only thing you could do was huff and patiently wait for the show to start.

In the meantime, Mitaka rattled off a few key facts regarding the band. He was about to begin a history on their first Grammy nomination, when the house lights suddenly went down. It was clear that the band was much loved, because the crowd immediately went wild. The way bodies shoved towards the front as people began to chant “Knights of Ren” over and over again almost seemed violent.

The first individual stepped out, and you stifled a cry of shock. Phasma was decked out in leopard print leggings, combat boots, and a ripped black shirt. Her denim vest rippled as she lifted up an arm holding onto two drumsticks. The woman struck a pose before settling in behind a drum kit situated on top of a raised platform.

The next individual was no less surprising. Hux strolled out onto the stage, and you were taken aback by how relaxed the man seemed. It almost looked as if he were bored by the entire idea of playing any show, and lazily paused to wave before picking up a bass. Even his wardrobe mimicked his attitude, as he only donned a pair of slim fit black jeans and a thin grey sweater. Mitaka leaned over and whispered that it was a running joke that Hux enjoyed looking as un-metal as possible. In fact, security often mistook him for a pedestrian, and there had been many attempts to escort the man away from backstage.

But the last individual to come out made the greatest impact of all - both with yourself and the crowd. Kylo strutted onto the stage in all of his glory. Full hair swept backwards with tight jeans hugging every curve of his muscular thighs. You didn’t think that you were an ass girl, but shit - Kylo was making you change your mind. Shaking your head, you willed yourself to not find the bastard attractive.

The fact that he was already fucking shirtless was making the job difficult though.

Taut muscle rippled along his forearm and back as he reached out to sling a guitar over his shoulder. Your eyes followed the instrument as it rested over his front, right where two sharp line’s ended at a “v” by his hips.

As if he couldn’t have been hotter, the man opened his mouth and began to sing. You swore that the Beatles had nothing on this man in terms of swooning fans. Men and women alike were clamoring towards the stage as Kylo switched between melodic singing and hard shouts.

Although the music was foreign, something (or rather someone) was compelling you to want more. Just as you were taken into the swell of the chorus, Kylo’s head turned and his eyes felt like a lazer as he stared you down. His gaze remained sharp, and you felt all of the air sucked out of your lungs. For a moment, you thought that you saw something different in his eyes. Perhaps the music made him a softer and more vulnerable man.

But then his face twisted into a smirk as he gave you a cheeky wink before directing your attention with a jerk of his head towards a crying female fan attempting to take her shirt off.

Just like that, your softened feelings for the man dissipated in a single second.

The asshole was peacocking right in front of you - shoving his fame into your face. He is the worst. He is literally the worst. You decided right in that moment that there was nobody in the whole of New York City that you hated more than Kylo Ren. Rage surged in your chest as an ugly thought bloomed - you were brought here to be made into a joke.

The rest of the night flew by in a blur as your emotions flittered between embarrassment and fury. Was the whole plan to make a mockery of you? Pay to take the poor student out for brunch and then laugh at her ignorance behind her back?

You cringed thinking back on how you practically ate half of Hux’s entree even after shoveling several pounds of potatoes into your mouth right in front of a trio of mega-stars.

When the concert came to an end, Kylo’s voice sounded like a faraway echo as his fans screamed over his farewell bid. Stumbling backwards, you wanted nothing more than to escape the impending awkward and upsetting confrontation with the band. You felt your back suddenly collide with a wall and spun around in surprise.

Your eyes widened into open disks as you not only saw, but felt, the sweaty naked torso of Kylo Ren. His lips were pulled up in a lopsided grin as he took in your shocked expression. Your gaze trailed upwards as you took in the way sweat pooled at the tips of his hair and fell to rest in the divot of his clavicle.

“So the firecracker is finally rendered speechless. How’d you like the concert, princess?”

“You...”

Kylo gave you an expectant wink, and you felt fire surge in your chest. Whether it was from anger or lust though, that was up for debate. Finding courage from within, you spat, “You’re an asshole, Kylo Ren.”

With one final glare, you shoved against his chest to brush past the man. He looked towards your back in surprise and shouted, “What the hell is your problem? A ‘thank you’ would be appreciated.”

Whipping around to face the singer you hissed, “Thank you? Thank you? For what? Why did you guys even bring me here? To embarrass me? To laugh at the poor girl who didn’t recognize the ‘biggest rock band in the world’? To shove my face in your success and wealth?”

It was now Kylo’s turn to look surprised. That was certainly not his intention at all. When he got back to his penthouse and had some time to think, the entire situation seemed humorous and rather innocent. And although one could argue that he was an asshole most of the time, he would never consider himself mean spirited. Sure, maybe he did want to show off a little bit, but he definitely wouldn’t go out of his way just to embarrass you.

Always one with words though, he huffed, “Please. Don’t think so highly of yourself.”

Your face blanched at his response, and you angrily ripped the lanyard from your neck and threw it at his face while shouting, “Go to hell, Kylo. Go find someone else to fuck with.” Gesturing towards the man with two middle fingers, you backed away and stormed out through the exit.

Phasma arrived just as the door slammed shut. With hands on her hips, she turned to Kylo and laughed, “Man, I’ve never see you flop so badly with a girl before.”

Kylo looked offended as he scoffed, “Flop? That would imply I would want anything to do with...that.” He jabbed his finger towards the empty space you once occupied.

The drummer gave her friend a look and slowly shook her head. Giving him a pat on the back she replied, “For the longest time I assumed that you had the emotional range of a caterpillar, but she’s proven me wrong. You’re just telling yourself that you hate this chick because you’re worried that you might actually be interested in actually getting to know the girl.”

The man rolled his eyes and replied, “I would hardly consider a minimum wage waitress with a foul mouth interesting.”

Phasma gave him an all-knowing look and shrugged her shoulders. “Well, then you definitely won’t care that I invited her to the afterparty at your place.”

She gave him a wink, and then strolled back on stage to pack up some equipment. Left alone, Kylo slowly considered his friend’s words right before he turned to punch a hole into the wall.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren #kylo ren x you #modern au #misguided youth

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Mateo's Eight, chapter seven (Branjie)--athena2

Previously: Brooke confessed about her daughter to Vanessa and they kissed Now: THE HEIST (dun dun dun)

A/N: Thank you all so much for your amazing feedback on this fic! I never expected people to actually like it this much. This chapter was tricky, so thank you as always to Writ for being an amazing beta!

Please leave some feedback on this chapter if you’d like!

Read on AO3

The food truck Nina wrangled from somewhere rumbles over potholes toward the Met. Everyone exchanges nervous glances, the silent anticipation in the air almost overpowering Nina singing along to the Tangled soundtrack.

Vanessa holds the necklace Brooke got her in a white-knuckled fist, contemplating what it means if she wears it. Her mind reviews the points of the plan but also tries to grasp what Brooke told her last night, the horrible things she’s been through. Can she really blame Brooke for what she did, when she was just protecting her daughter? Can she forgive a lie that went on the whole time they were together?

Vanessa looks at Brooke, eyes focused on her lap. She thinks of Brooke’s tears soaking her shirt last night, the absolutely gutted look in her eyes as she told Vanessa about her daughter, like someone had ripped her heart clean out.

Vanessa needs time to think, when she’s not about to pull off the biggest con of her life. When she doesn’t have to worry about her mom working herself into the ground, or the overdue notice on their bills. She forces her feelings aside until then, which has always been hard for her. Her feelings are constantly getting in the way, anger taking control the night she fought with Brooke, passion winning last night, pulling her into bed with Brooke when she shouldn’t have. She can’t let anything interfere with her focus tonight.

Her stomach flutters as she trails behind Scarlet and Plastique into the ball, the gown Nina got her as soft as butter against her skin, the gold making her glow. She struts inside, casual and unconcerned. This is the most expensive thing she’s ever worn, and she’s going to enjoy it.

Nina is on the floor with the Vogue team, attending to everyone’s needs. Yvie is holed up in the truck outside, watching everything through her hacked security feed. Silky’s in waitress garb, gliding between tables. Brooke and A’keria are in the kitchen, and Vanessa finds that she trusts Brooke completely with her tasks, the weight of fear lifted from her.

Silverware sparkles on each table, the glare off thousand-dollar gowns blinding. It’s not until now that the glitz and glamour really sink in. Vanessa will have millions after this, millions, and most of the guests would consider it pocket change, like the stray dollar you find in your coat.

Any second now…

“People are sitting,” Nina says through their ear comms, a hint of panic emerging.

“Let’s do it,” Vanessa says.

She hovers by the bar, across from the bathroom Plastique will be running to later. She keeps her head down, fading into the background, wanting to be ignored for once.

“Dishes went out for Plastique’s table,” Brooke says into her comm. If Brooke did her job right, Plastique will be hunched over the toilet about 15 minutes after eating her soup made of overpriced vegetables. Inducing vomiting is the least sketchy thing they’ll do tonight, but Vanessa can’t help but feel a little guilty about it. Still, it’s the only way, and it’s not like they’re really making Plastique sick.

“Right on time.” Vanessa can’t stop the smile that creeps into her voice, hit with happiness that Brooke is with her.

“Are you wearing a watch like I told you?” Brooke asks. “I could’ve synchronized them—“

“You’re not putting sequins on shit. I’m looking at my phone, Brooke,” Vanessa says.

Yvie makes gagging sounds around a mouthful of whatever she’s crunching on. “Do I really have to experience this conversation with my own two ears?” she asks.

“Tell me about it,” Silky gripes. “This ear comm is a group chat from hell. ‘Cept I can’t even leave the chat.”

“How do you think Scarlet feels? She’s stuck at that table with boring-ass rich people and can’t even talk to us,” A’keria says.

“I wish I didn’t have to talk to us,” Brooke says.

“Back to work!” Vanessa snaps.

Waiters hurry past her from the kitchen, balancing gleaming silver trays with dishes of salad resembling burnt tree leaves, still-bleeding steak she can eat in two bites, and bowls of murky green stuff that might have been scooped out of a pond. Give her a slice of pizza any day.

Silky slips into the bathroom to prepare for Plastique, armed with the magnet Yvie made to take the necklace off. Vanessa knows they’re close, heart pounding in her chest, time moving through quicksand. She sips her drink without tasting and almost spits it out when Scarlet’s voice rings over the ear comm.

“Plastique’s on the move. Bitch is looking real green. And I deserve a higher cut after what I’ve been forced to listen to.”

“I’ll give you a dollar,” Vanessa promises, positioning herself in front of the bathroom, up against the cream-colored wall within the camera blindspot.

“You can’t even buy a candy bar with a dollar,” Scarlet says.

“You can buy my love,” Yvie says. “But you already have that, Scar.”

“How much to buy your damn silence?” Vanessa asks.

Yvie’s reply goes unheard as Plastique sprints around the corner, the pale green tinge to her face clashing against the bright pink dress that ripples with her movements. The door slams shut, and a man in a black suit stumbles after her. Vanessa has to marvel that an entire bodyguard is required to watch one necklace.

“Can’t you read?” Vanessa demands, pointing at the curvy gold script on the door. “It’s the women’s bathroom.” She crosses her arms and the guard sulks off to the side.

“How’d I get stuck on barf duty?” Silky laments over faint sounds of retching. “This ain’t even fair.”

“She’s puking, though?” Vanessa asks.

“Oh, hell yeah, she is.”

“Then get in there and take the necklace, dummy!”

Vanessa’s palms sweat, breath stuck in her throat. She hears the toilet flushing inside, and mumbles too indistinct to make out.

“Waiter’s coming your way,” Nina says.

Sure enough, a waiter rounds the corner, and Vanessa cuts him off, nudges him toward the bathroom door just as Silky comes out, slipping the necklace between dishes stained with a thick orange substance Vanessa can’t blame anyone for not finishing.

“Necklace is on the move,” Vanessa says, watching the tray head into the kitchen.

It’s in Brooke’s hands now, and there’s nowhere Vanessa would rather have it.

—

Brooke gasps as she snatches the necklace and 112 million dollars hits her hand. It weighs seven pounds, Vanessa had said. Heavier than Zoey when she was born almost two months premature. A thousand times more expensive than the medical procedures needed to keep her little heart beating.

This one necklace is worth more money than most people will ever see. This necklace could solve all her problems and then some, for her and so many others. What’s the harm, really, in giving everyone in the group a better life–for A’keria to have her own home and Vanessa to help her mom and Brooke to get her daughter back–at the cost of one little necklace, growing lighter as the seconds pass? They aren’t hurting anyone. The only people who will even notice is the company that owns it, who owns hundreds more jewels just as expensive.

She slides it into the soapy water where A’keria washes dishes, watching A’keria pluck it out and excuse herself to the bathroom, where her tools await.

—

A’keria has to admire the intricacy of the diamond, the sheer quality of the jewel, as she splits the pieces apart. It’s criminal, really, to break something so exquisite, so well-made, but she knows what they’re getting is worth far more.

Police sirens blare outside, the loudspeaker announcing that all employees must report to the main entrance while police search for the missing necklace. A sly grin spreads across A’keria’s face, because they won’t find anything. All she has to do is get the pieces to Silky, who will get them to Vanessa, who will sell them and get their profits.

She carefully breaks off another piece and waits for Nina to find the replica necklace and call the police off.

—

Nina hovers near the fountain, a hand awkwardly pressed against her hip, the replica necklace bulging underneath her dress. Vanessa and Brooke haven’t been answering on the comms, something Nina suspects isn’t a coincidence. She wonders if the two of them are kissing in some gallery room and hopes they’ve made things right.

Police officers scurry around, one of them interrogating Plastique and Scarlet about what could have happened to the necklace.

“Should I do it now?” Nina asks nervously. “Vanessa?”

“Do it!” Vanessa commands.

Nina lifts the hem of her soft orange dress and lowers the necklace into the fountain. She pulls it out with a triumphant cry, running to the police to show them that she found it, and they can end the search.

—

The buzz of the Nokia gets Vanessa ready. She stands up straight, dripping confidence, to pose as the fake buyer with Brooke as the fake artist. Vanessa excels as the buyer because she could attract the attention of others, and the con relies on people not only thinking the art is Brooke’s, but also worth what she’s asking.

Brooke always says rich people will pay a lot for art without knowing anything about it, and so far, she’s right.

“Excuse me, I’d like to buy those pieces.” Vanessa walks up to her, just as they’ve done four times now, making sure to avoid any familiarity. She can’t give anything away, not when this is the biggest con they’ve done.

“I’m asking a very high price,” Brooke says.

“As you should.” Vanessa raises her voice a little, two men across the gallery creeping closer to hear. “I’ll offer you $10,000 for all three.”

Brooke scoffs. “At least 20 grand each. No less.”

She and Brooke continue to haggle, Vanessa luring the men closer and closer, hanging on their every word. Finally, Vanessa backs out of the sale just short of the 60 grand, and one of the men pounces, saying he’ll happily pay Brooke’s price.

Vanessa peeks at Brooke while the man pulls out his checkbook. She has her head down but Vanessa can see the smile stretched across her face, and a rush of affection hits her at once. She loves Brooke, loves her so much, and maybe it’s time to start saving money for a house one day, a house completely their own.

She’s so distracted by Brooke’s shining eyes that she doesn’t notice the man watching them from the corner. She’s so busy dreaming of walking through their new house that she doesn’t notice the man pulling out his phone. She doesn’t notice anything until two police officers are in the gallery, pointing right at them.

But by then, it’s too late.

—

Secret mission with Brooke complete, Vanessa heads back onto the main floor, where the celebrities grumble as they return to their seats, the fake necklace safely around Plastique’s neck.

Silky casually slaps the diamonds into her palm. Vanessa stashes it inside the special compartment she sewed in the dress, and the diamonds lightly brushing against her hip with each movement only increases her pride, making her all the more aware of what she just pulled off. The con of her lifetime, of any lifetime, 112 million dollars gone and no one the wiser.

There’s a tap on her shoulder.

“May I have this dance?”

Vanessa spins around to see Brooke with her arm outstretched. She’s changed into the outfit Nina got her–a silky black sequined suit, each sequin catching the light and reflecting it at Vanessa, stealing her breath in the process. Vanessa knows it’s been a long time since either of them have been in clothes this nice or this new, and she feels like a new woman as she accepts Brooke’s arm.

“You know slow dancing ain’t my thing,” Vanessa warns as Brooke leads her to the dance floor.

“But it’s mine.”

They don’t talk as they glide around the floor, Brooke’s hand on Vanessa’s waist, which is just as well because Vanessa doesn’t have any words. She can feel Brooke’s heart thrumming against her fingers, her green eyes gazing at Vanessa dreamily. She’s never had a proper slow-dance with Brooke, and she’s going to savor each spin, each careful turn that Brooke guides her through.

“You’re wearing the necklace,” Brooke says, her cheeks flushing at the gold heart dangling around Vanessa’s neck.

“Figured we needed all the luck we could get,” Vanessa says. She tightens her hold on Brooke’s hips, not caring what it means, not caring how good the dance and the necklace make her feel. All she cares about is being here with Brooke.

“This is…nice,” Vanessa finishes lamely, because she can’t describe it. It’s a kind of weightless joy she hasn’t felt since before prison, and she doesn’t think it’s a coincidence that the feeling has been brought on by Brooke.

“It is,” Brooke agrees.

They keep moving even as others sit down, and all Vanessa knows is that she could do this dance forever.

—

“Ness,” Brooke hisses, eyes darting toward the cops.

Vanessa’s blood runs cold. Someone called the police. Someone who had seen them before, maybe, or thought they were suspicious? It doesn’t matter. They have to get out of here.

Brooke snatches the check and Vanessa runs down the hall, where Brooke mapped an escape route in her plans, just in case. Vanessa has never been more grateful for Brooke and her planning.

Brooke is behind her as she sprints to the shipping entrance by the bathrooms, slamming down on the metal bar and shoving it open. But it catches on something with a clinking sound that stops her heart. The door only opens a crack, just big enough for a child to wriggle through.

Vanessa sees a chain holding it closed at the top. The gallery staff must not use this entrance anymore. Her heart pounds, because they’ll never get that chain off. Vanessa might be able to squeeze through, but Brooke will never fit.

She can hear cops shouting in the distance, Brooke cursing under her breath. Tears of helplessness spring to Vanessa’s eyes. She can see Brooke’s mind frantically working, trying to think of another way out.

“You have to go, Ness,” Brooke says firmly. “You can fit.”

“I’m not leaving you for the cops!”

“We don’t have a choice.” Brooke hands her the check. “Take it. Go lie low at A’keria’s. I’ll come get you. Go!” She nudges Vanessa toward the door.

“I’m not leaving you.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll find another way out.” Brooke crouches down and begins moving Vanessa’s limbs, helping her contort through the narrow opening even as Vanessa continues to protest. She kisses Vanessa fast and hard, and the intensity she pours into it makes Vanessa tremble in fear that it’ll be their last kiss.

“But–”

“I’ll protect you, I promise. Always.” Brooke pushes her through, and Vanessa runs.

—

Seven women exit down the grand steps at the Met, hearts light and fluttery with dreams of the future.

Nina dreams of adopting a third child with her wife, Monet; another kid to run around the house, laughing and shouting, to fill her heart beyond bursting. She dreams of writing comedy shows again, performing in front of a crowd and letting their applause etch a permanent grin on her face, a career she gave up a decade ago. She dreams of second chances.

Scarlet dreams of a space where the designs she drew as a little girl in her princess bedroom can come to life, for everyone to see the beauty that’s only ever been in her head. She dreams of seeing her clothes not only on famous people, but on regular people, well-made and priced so anyone can wear clothes they feel good in. She dreams of sketching in a cozy house with Yvie at her side.

Yvie dreams of setting up an internet cafe with its own computers for everyone and free coffees and baked goods. She dreams of returning to school to get a master’s with no worries about loans, having more time to do her hacking, to expose criminals. She dreams of typing away on a big couch with her long legs thrown across Scarlet’s lap.

Silky dreams of walking into the principal’s office and paying off the lunch debts for the whole school so no child has to go hungry. She dreams of the new supplies she can buy for her classroom, the crafts kids can make with the markers and paints and colored pencils, the colors and laughs that will fill the room. She dreams of a giant house where she can soak in a tub and eat chocolate while she grades papers.

A’keria dreams of focusing on herself, to have a home where her mother didn’t track her every move and her father didn’t tell her to get a better job. She dreams of brushing the dust off her old business cards and designs, of a little boutique where she can create her own bracelets instead of polishing someone else’s. She dreams of people giving her designs as gifts to those they loved.

Brooke dreams of breaking all possible ties to her ex, the bills he caused disappearing. She dreams of walking into a new house with her daughter secure in her arms, to fill the kitchen with laughs as they bake cookies, to see her smile every day. She dreams of time home with her daughter, time to learn to love herself again, and maybe, if she’s lucky, time with Vanessa.

Vanessa dreams of those bills vanishing into thin air, of moving her mom into a nice house and having time to relax without all-day shifts. She dreams of finding a new place for herself and Riley, to rediscover herself and what she wants to do. She dreams of endless possible futures she can live, and if a certain blonde woman creeps into a few of them, the dream only becomes that much brighter.

And when Vanessa asks Brooke to stay over at her house tonight, she feels she’s one step closer to that dream.

—

“I can’t believe we did that,” Brooke slurs as she pulls off her suit. “You’re brilliant, Ness. Super brilliant. Like, your brain must be so, so big.”

Vanessa suspects some of the praise is fueled by the amount of wine Brooke had at the ball, but Vanessa accepts it anyway. Besides, she’s still high on champagne and the success of the mission, and Brooke’s cheeks are flushed as she giddily puts on the pajamas they stopped by her place to get (‘It’ll be like a sleepover, Ness!’), and Vanessa has to smile.

Brooke is struggling with her shoes, her normally nimble, graceful fingers fumbling at the straps, and Vanessa carefully unfastens them for her, lifting Brooke’s legs and pulling the shoes off, then helping her step into plaid pajama pants.

“Still got them toes, I see,” Vanessa teases.

“Of course I do. Where would they go?” Brooke asks in confusion, and Vanessa stifles a laugh. She’s always loved the soft Brooke that needed Vanessa to take care of her. Brooke was so used to taking care of herself, taking care of them both, that it was nice to return the favor, make Brooke feel as cared for and as loved as she made Vanessa feel.

“Okay, time for bed,” Vanessa commands, herding Brooke under the covers. She’s put Brooke to bed two nights in a row, and it’s hard not to enjoy it, especially when Brooke smiles as Vanessa pulls the blanket up, melting into the soft fleece. “It’s 2am. You need to sleep.”

“‘M not tired,” Brooke whines with a pout, eyelids fluttering in her effort to stay awake, like she’s afraid Vanessa will disappear if she can’t see her.

“Sure you are, baby.” The baby slips out before her champagne-addled brain can stop it, and Brooke’s smile makes her even warmer than the liquor.

“Okay,” Brooke agrees. She squints at Vanessa. “Is that my sweatshirt?”

Oops.

So what if Vanessa just happened to grab it tonight? It was on the top of her clothes pile, the room a little too hazy to dig through her dresser for proper pajamas. So what if the soft cotton feels nicer than the thousand-dollar dress she had on earlier? It doesn’t mean anything.

“Maybe.” Vanessa gives a coy shrug.

“I’ve been looking for that!” Brooke gets that cute pout again, and Vanessa has to resist the urge to kiss it away.

“You know it looks better on me.”

Brooke nods, the motion quickly turning to a yawn.

“Sleep, Brooke.” She can avoid Brooke’s lips but not her cheek, pressing a light kiss to the still-rosy skin.

Brooke is asleep in seconds, her even breaths almost lulling Vanessa to sleep as she stands. She’s about to join Brooke under the blankets when the door opens, her mother home after another late shift. The moment seizes her, and Vanessa needs to ask her something, now.

“What are you still doing up?” her mom asks, dropping down at the kitchen table with leftover pizza.

“Um, can I ask you something?” Vanessa asks, biting her lip.

“You can ask me anything, honey. What is it?”

“Okay, let’s pretend you and Dad stole something together and I was really young. And you could tell the cops you did it all and let Dad go free, but you’d never see me again, or you could put Dad in prison so you could be with me. What would you do?”

The intense look in Vanessa’s eyes must be enough to stop her mother from wondering why she’s asking such a strange question at 2 in the morning.

“I would choose you. I love your father, and I wouldn’t want to send him away. But you’re my baby, Vanessa. Even when you’re grown, you’re still my baby. I’d do anything to protect you.”

He took her. He took my baby. Brooke’s teary voice rings through her head.

Vanessa kisses her mom and numbly returns to her room. Brooke is curled up on her side, knees bent—her knees always got in the way, Vanessa thinks fondly—with her arms drawn against her chest, looking like they’re burning with emptiness, aching for someone to hold.

Vanessa watches Brooke sleep, her mind spinning. Brooke didn’t want to hurt Vanessa; she just wanted to protect her daughter. Her baby. Yes, she lied for nine months, but Vanessa can’t blame her. Brooke had just been hurt too many times to take the risk that Vanessa would hurt her too, toss her aside like a broken doll as her parents and ex-husband had done.

Vanessa has always been empathetic, crying over movies since she was a child because she felt it all so deeply. The emotions of others easily rubbed off on her, and she absorbed them like a sponge. She’d come home from the makeup store jittery with the nervous excitement of a teenager off to prom, the hopefulness of someone treating themselves to a makeover after a breakup. But Vanessa can’t even begin to understand how terrifying and lonely things must have been for Brooke.

A husband who used her to make himself look good. Who took away the baby Brooke had been so desperate for, just for money and revenge. To have her daughter there one day and gone the next, leaving Brooke completely alone, too scared to tell anyone as the secret ate her up inside. To have the police use her daughter against her. Constantly getting hurt, over and over, so that keeping the secret was the best way to protect herself.

Aside from her secret, Vanessa never had reason to doubt Brooke’s love for her. Brooke was always open and honest with Vanessa, even when it was hard for her. Brooke sighs in her sleep and Vanessa thinks of the nights they spent together, laughing at episodes of Parks and Rec they’d seen five times. How she could roll over in the night and Brooke would be there, her presence soothing. How she hasn’t been able to stop thinking about Brooke’s snorting laugh, the little hairs that escaped her ponytail and sprung around her face, how she’d give Vanessa her jacket when Vanessa forgot her own.

She hasn’t stopped loving Brooke, no matter how mad she was, how hard she tried to pretend.

Vanessa slips beside her—there’s not really room for them both but she doesn’t care, misses sleeping with Brooke too much. She nestles herself against Brooke’s chest, Brooke’s arms wrapping around her, holding her tight, weighing Vanessa down with safety and adoration.

“I love you,” Brooke mumbles into her neck, and Vanessa stills.

There’s a lot of things that could have caused it. It could be the wine, or the high of success, or the fact that Brooke is still half-asleep.

The same could be said of Vanessa, but when she returns the I love you, she means every word.

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #nina west #silky nutmeg ganache #akeria davenport #scarlet envy #yvie oddly #plastique tiara #lesbian au #s11 #oceans 8 au #mateos 8 #athena2 #concrit welcome #submission

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