#we get what needs to be done done but now im like god my coworkers are going to be like why didnt you say you were coming in WE wouldve come

[cosmicrhetoric]

this morning has been so laughably crazy LOL

#couldnt get shit to work on the day of a big work release so i drove an hour into the office and didnt tell my team #bc they live way closer than i do and have shown up when ive done this before #and maybe i should have i just didnt want them to also come in #but then as i am getting my shit done the guy im waiting for a call from WALKS IN and sees me in office and well #we get what needs to be done done but now im like god my coworkers are going to be like why didnt you say you were coming in WE wouldve come #and i dont know how to say that i didnt say anything cause im wearing jeans and flip flops this was supposed to be an in and out situation #i fr thought no one would be here #well. im stuck now lol #i shouldnt have worn sandals

[allocnddits]

welcome to my new obsession: F1

long ass thoughts about daniel x alonso!reader (daughter) im talking like 4k

warnings: SMUT (oral – M and F rec–, fingering, anal fingering, PinV, danny being kinda rough) with barely any plot, danny and reader being sluts, not proof read in lazy, AGE GAP (reader is like 20) size kink

"Are you not gonna kiss me?" you asked after dancing with him for what felt like the entire night.

"How old are you?"

"Old enough to be in here"

"That's good enough"

He lowered his head to reach your lips and kissed you hungrily. It was messy and you both tasted like alcohol but you couldn't care less.

You weren't so sure of how you ended up waking up in his hotel room with your dress unzipped, bunched up around your waist and no underwear. You sat up for a second, trying to remember who you left the club with, luckily, an alpha tauri racing shirt was laid on the chair next to the bed. Considering that you had a 50/50 chance, you were pretty lucky to get it right. "Daniel?" you called from the bed.

"Good mornin" he smiled as he came out of the bathroom, still damp, hair wet and a towel around his waist.

"Not so sure it's a good morning when I don'tremember what happened last night. Did we fuck?"

“You better hope not cause i don't see any condoms around here."

"Daniel, are you fucking serious right now?" you ask, before putting on the t-shirt he just threw at you.

"I'm kidding, alright?"

"Then what the fuck happened? Why aren't my panties on my body?" you asked almost angry at how calm he was about this.

"Hey, hey, no need to freak out. I just ate you out, alright? But I guess you were too drunk because you fell asleep almost instantly after you came on my tongue and told me I was 'too fucking good'

"Oh god, I'm sorry, this is so embarrassing. How can you be sure that happened? You were drunk too"

"Well, you were quite unforgivable, babe, pulling my hair and grinding on my face. That and the fact that I can handle my alcohol." he chuckled.

"Don't fucking laugh about this, s'not funny" you hit his stupid smile with a pillow. "God, my dad is gonna kill me. He was afraid i'd get with stroll, you know, but this? This is so much worse"

“Why am I worse than stroll?”

"Cause you're like, almost 20 years older than me. this is so messed up. How am I gonna get out of here, there are people outside." it was your home town after all, people knew you.

“I'll figure this out, okay? just wait a second and stop freaking out."

You got up from the bed, taking the rest of your dress off before walking to the bathroom. the second you saw yourself in the mirror you started washing all that old make up off, you looked destroyed. as you looked through daniels things, trying to find a face wash or a moisturizer, you heard him on the phone

"Hey, Lan, can you do me a favor?"

"Sure, mate, what's up?"

"Is your girlfriend with you?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Do you think she could borrow yn some sneakers and like, training shorts or something?"

"Why on earth are you calling about yn?"

"Well, we kinda had a thing last night and now she's like, stuck in here, only in her party dress."

"Are we fucking talking the same yn mate?"

"I would think so, yeah"

"Are you taking a fucking piss?"

"Not at all"

"Oh this is so messed up. you fucked your coworkers daughter?"

"Kinda, and i don't see how this is messed up"

"Mate, how old is she?"

"She was old enough to be in the club"

"Can you just cut it? who the fuck are you telling about us?" you came out of the bathroom, done with his conversation.

"Just Lando, I'm trynna help you out here" he told you before talking back to his phone "can you just please ask your girlfriend for the clothes? Thanks, I'll be right there." he ended the call, laying his phone on the bed as you stood right in front of him. "Don't be mad at me, alright?" he pulled you closer, in between his parted legs, and kissed your love handle, over the shirt. you ran your hand through his wet curls, locking your fingers in them when he grabbed your ass. "Dan?"

"Yeah?" he looked up at you with bright brown eyes.

"Think i can make up to you for last night?"

"Would love that, yeah"

You straddled him, hands meeting his cheeks as you kissed him. His arms wrapping around your waist, making you grind down onto his towel. You could feel him growing against you as you let the texture of the towel catch your clit. You really tried to drag out the making out but after a couple of minutes his tip as aggressively poking your thigh. “That was quick" you tease and you slide off his lap, going on your knees in front of him. You unfolded the towel that hung around his hips and almost didn't believe what you saw. "Fuck" you sighed.

"What's wrong, baby?" he teased, looking down at you and brushing your hair off your face.

"You could've given a warning" you joked before wrapping your hand around his base, leading it to your lips, you spit on the tip, using your other hand to smear it all over him, his cock so thick he fit perfectly in your fist. You started pumping slowly, looking up and holding direct eye contact with him, starting to feel hot under his stare. Your hand moved loosely around him, your palm feeling all the prominent veins of his cock before stoping at the base so you could leave a kiss on his tip.

"Stop teasing, love." he complained, slightly bucking his hips up so you took his head into your mouth. You did, gladly, sucking hardly on it before going all the way down. You couldn't quite take all of him in your mouth but you came close, the move making you slightly gag around him. You pulled away, pumping your hand while you recovered from it. You swirled your tongue on his tip, watching as he threw his head back, hands becoming fists that propped him up on the bed, you let your mouth slide down on him, always taking everything you could. Every time you had to pull away to breathe, your hands made up for it, either pressing your thumb down on his slit or running your palm against his sensitive head.

"Fuck, baby, feel so good, 'm so close" he groaned as you popped off his length with a disgustingly erotic sound, string of saliva connecting your bottom lip to his tip. "shit"

"Want you inside me. please?" you asked, taking your spot back on his lap.

“If someone ever says no to that question, love, they're going insane." he smiled against your neck before kissing down to your shoulder. His hand went back down to your ass, lifting the shirt you wore and spreading your cheeks apart, his long finger reaching for your opening. he circled it, spreading your wetness around before dipping into you, making you wiggle your hips till you got used to the feeling. As much as you just wanted him inside you, he barely fit in your mouth so you knew this was necessary. When he slipped the second finger in, your head fell onto his shoulder and as a gagged moan fell out of your lips you felt him smile against the skin of your neck.

“Think you're ready, baby?" he whispered in your ear and you nodded. Daniel pulled his fingers out of you, reaching for a condom on the bedside table and putting it on before lifting your hips till his tip tapped your hole. His hands on your ass started lowering you onto him, you were unbelievably tight compared to his girth and it had you squeezing him so good.

"Dan" you called, face buried in his neck, hands running through the short curls at the back of his head, "so fucking big." you sighed as you tried to make him bottom out inside you. he couldn't help but chuckle against your neck, he already knew he was too big for your petite figure but you were not giving up on taking him whole. You felt bad enough for using him the previous night, you needed to make him feel good.

"Don't need to take it all if you can't, baby" he said before laying back on his elbows, watching you struggle as you took him in, a smirk never leaving his face. When he finally watched himself bottom out in you he sat back up.

"Doing so good, didn't think you'd be able to take it." he whispered to your lips before crashing them against his.

Daniel lifted your shirt till he met your tits and started to give them attention, kissing and sucking, kneading and bitting, all of it borderline overwhelming as you were still getting used to him inside you. He had both of his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you as close as he could as you started grinding against him. He was sucking on your tits so hard, making you wetter by the second, as he moved his hips to meet yours.

"Dan, fuck, feel so good, so big" you whispered against his lips before kissing him, it being so deep and intense that you slowed down your hip movements. Daniel, however, made sure to increase his movements, fucking up into you. even though you were the one trying to make up to him, he was the one who seemed to be doing everything in his power to make you feel good.

With a particular thrust, you let a moan out into his mouth making him part the kiss and take his lips down your chest again. the attention he was paying to your boobs was driving you insane, all the kissing and sucking being almost too much. your moans becoming louder with every thrust of his as he let out groans against your skin.

"fuck, so fucking close, cmon, baby, don't stop." he said in your ear, making you shiver. you sped up your bouncing on his lap and started clenching on purpose around him. it wasn't long before he came with a deep moan in your ear. Barely taking time to enjoy his release, he flipped you over onto the bed, one hand beside your head, holding himself up and the other right down to your clit, circling it as he trusted a few last times into you, his softening dick still making you feel full. "come for me, baby, need to make sure you're done too" he whispered.

"so close, just a little more, please" you begged and he thrusted into you one last time, making you cum. he immediately fell on you, burring his face in the crook of your neck as you came back from your high. “‘kay, get off, still need to get out of here."

"yeah, okay. i'll just get dressed and i'll get you some clothes." He flipped off you, pulling his towel to cover himself again.

"have you seen my phone?" you asked, looking around the room. he handed it to you, along with a charger and pointed to the outlet by the bed.

You watched him get dressed as you waited for your phone to turn on, his muscles on display for you, gradually being covered by some shorts and a tshirt, leaving most of his tattoos uncovered. You couldn't help but let your eyes wander around his body, his muscles, his hair and his nose, you pressed your thighs together at the thought of riding his face and pulling his hair, having his beard scratch your legs, god, you wish you weren't so drunk the night before to remember how good he was.

"be right back" he warned, pulling you out of your daydreaming before leaving the room. as he left, you decided to get up to take a shower, you still smelled like alcohol and daniels cologne from the night before.

While you were in the shower daniel headed to landos room, knocking on the door when he reached it. "mornin' mate"

"did you fucking do her again?" Lando accused as soon as he opened the door, noticing his friends smile and his flushed cheeks

"none of your business, dude." he pushed lando on the shoulder. "thanks for the clothes, though, really saving my ass here. see you later, yeah? still coming with me?"

"sure, see you" he said, clearly just trying to get rid of daniel.

and he did leave, walking back to his room with the shorts and shoes in his hand. "m back, got your clothes" he laid it on the bed before starting to collect his things from the room.

"thanks" you said after coming out of the shower in your towel. you got dressed, annoyingly going commando since you couldn't find your underwear anywhere in his room, and started collecting your stuff too. “think i'm good to go"

"wait" he stopped you "here" daniel placed a cap on your head, tightening it and handing you sunglasses. "ll make sure you get your dress and shoes back, 'kay? will you be in spain?"

"course, but only on saturday. ill text you the place when i get there, so, like, check your dms or something" you commented already going out the door and checking your phone to know where you'd be meeting your dad.

the next time you saw daniel was on monday afternoon.

you went to a coffee shop at the airport after saying goodbye to your dad for a week. he was walking past and stopped immediately when he saw you, approaching your table and asking if he could sit.

"sure, go ahead" you weren't exactly happy about the situation, still afraid this would get to your dad, he wasn't opposed to you dating anyone but, this was his coworker and he was 15 years older than you.

"i got something for you. was gonna wait to give it to you later but i thought you might be needing it." he pulled a small piece of fabric from the pocket of his jeans and bunched it inside his fist before giving it to you.

the second you realized what it was you kicked his leg under the table. "daniel! for fucks sake, have you completely lost your mind?"

"just thought you'd wanna be wearing this again next time you throw yourself at me at the club."

"don't worry, won't be doing that ever again. wasn't really worth it, too much effort, not enough pleasure, you know?" you teased before taking a sip of your coffee.

"sure, keep telling yourself that. listen, i gotta go, see you in like, what, three days?"

"five" you corrected, also getting up from the table.

your next encounter was on saturday night.

Daniel had gotten pole position on quali and as of mandatory gone partying. It was actually insane to you how he managed to end up in the same club as you in a city as big as barcelona. maybe he saw your story and found out where you were but you didn't mind to check.

You were just sitting on the bar, mindlessly flirting with some guy that didn't have a single chance when you saw him. You decided to ignore, not minding his presence while you talked to someone else, but he reached you first. He walked over to you from behind so you didn't notice till his hand was discreetly on your waist, the guy your were taking to left as soon as he realized who daniel was.

"You gotta be fucking kidding me" you said, loud enough so he could hear it, slipping out of the stool

"Hello to you too." he smiled

"what are you doing here?"

"Celebrating. Got fucking pole position" he said, taking a sip of his drink.

"Are you gonna be able to maintain it drinking like this?"

"First and only" he lifted his beer bottle. "Wanna dance?"

Now Daniel wasn’t the best at dancing – though he did love to –, but when your hips caught his he knew exactly what to do, they followed yours to the rhythm of the music and his hands roamed through your body with yours on top. You danced through a few songs as Daniel tried kissing you, you denied, knowing that as soon as you kissed him, you’d want to go home with him.

“Just a kiss, c’mon” he whispered, beard scratching on your neck.

You shook your head, turning around to face him and taking his hand. “Just dance with me, yeah?” you smiled, starting to fold your knees and using his handhold as support, in seconds you were on the floor, twearking as you stared at him. You caught his lips moving as he cussed at the view, now if he didn’t go home with you tonight he would go insane. Daniel helped you up, watching you come up from the floor while swaying your hips.

“Stop playing me, we’re gonna do this or not?” he asked you with some level of dominance, something you found extremely hot on that moment. You nodded, pulling him away from the crowd by the hand, when you got out he just looked at the valet and in matter of a minute his Aston Martin was by the door. Daniel helped you into the car before settling himself.

“We can go to my apartment, it’s a bit messy cause i just got there today but, no cameras.” you suggested

“Is it close?” you nodded “lead the way.”

In about 15 minutes you were inside your house, he looked around as you kissed what you reached of his neck, his hands sat on your ass cheeks. “Danny, come on” you groaned against his chest as you unbuttoned his shirt.

“Just looking for somewhere i can fuck you, baby. Think i just found it.” he picked you up from the floor, caring you over to your couch and laying you on it. Daniel easily climbed on top of you, kissing on your neck and visible parts of your chest. Your legs wrapped around hism, making your dress ride up and pool around your waist.

“Dan” you whispered in his ear, hoping it would make him act faster. It just made him quickly grind down on you before going on his knees.

“Gotta make sure you remember how good i make you feel in the morning this time, baby.” he teased as he spread your legs, placing himself between them. Daniel hooked his arms underneath your thighs, settling you to be face to face with your heat. He blew against your aching core, sending shivers down your spine making you close your knees. “love the reactions your body has to me, baby, but keep these apart, wanna make you feel good.”

You threw your head back as your hands went to his hair, you ran your fingers through the curls and pulled him closer to you.He kissed your clit through your thong, smirking as he pulled it to the side and swiped his finger between your lips, guiding it to his lips and sucking on it. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you watched him do it.

“Daniel, stop teasing. Just eat me out already, please” you cried out.

He smiled as he pulled your panties down your legs. Daniel kissed and licked your thighs, ignoring your wish, the teasing driving you insane. Two of his fingers split your lips open, your wet cunt now completely exposed to him, he kissed around it, the creases between your thighs and your middle and the bottom of your stomach before planting a kiss right on your lips, anticipation killing you by the second.

“Danny, please. Need you now” you groaned not even thinking about how desperate you sounded, when he had barely touched you.

“You talk a lot less when you’re drunker, love. Maybe I should get some more alcohol in you before fucking this pretty cunt” he whispered as his fingers circled your hole, a sigh of relief leaving your lips immediately.

He grinned at your reaction before his lips met your heat again. They kissed your hole, tongue slightly dipping into you before making its way up. His flat tongue traced from the bottom of your vulva all the way up to your clit, lapping at it. His hand made their way up your waist under your shirt, trying to reach your chest but your shirt was too tight. “Off” he mumbled against your skin.

“what?” your question made him lift his head, letting you catch a glimpse of his lips, glistening with your wetness.

“Off. Take your shirt off.”

You pulled your top over your head, throwing it to the side before your hands made their way back to his hair. His fingers tweaked your nipples between them before palming your boobs entirely. He started fucking you with his tongue, penetrating it slowly as the bridge of his nose caught your clit, giving you the lightest of pressure whenever he moved his face around. His tongue left your hole when you stopped giving him reactions, mouth now working on sucking your clit.

“Danny, please” you moaned when his lips left your clit and started teasing by sucking on your lips. Your begging made him give up the teasing.

The tip of his tongue circled your clit before liking up and down your hole, his nose hitting your sensitive nub again. A soft moan left your mouth as he moved his head side to side, using his nose to stimulate your clit but he stopped as soon as you did. You looked down at him, about to complain but you caught a challenging look in his eyes and understood what he wanted. You started grinding your hips against his face, the pressure of his nose just perfect and in a couple of seconds he had you uncontrollably humping on his face.

“Dan, ‘m so close” you sighed.

He let you use him for your release as his tongue lapped at your dripping hole, the noises his mouth was making so unholy. His pants were getting uncomfortably tighter by the second, he needed you on his cock. Gladly, you, too, were desperate to have him. You came the second he penetrated you with two fingers, ridding down your high as he curled them inside you. His head left the space between your legs and came up to face you.

“Don’t go sleepy on me this time” he joked “wanna fuck you so bad.”

“Fuck, Dan. Let’s go to my room, please, need you.” you mumbled as he kissed your neck, hands snaking under your ass to lift you up. he effortlessly carried you inside, opening the door he guessed was the main bedroom and threw you on the bed. You giggled, watching as he unbuckled his belt and undid his pants before pushing his already unbuttoned shirt off his shoulders and taking off the tshirt he had under it. His hands looked for the zipper on your sparkly skirt and pulled it down, sliding it off your legs, leaving you completely bare in front of him. You pulled him down making him lay over you, holding his torso up with his forearms beside your head.

“Wait, wait, wait” he mumbled into the kiss, getting up again to take off his pants for good after kicking his boots away. He then laid over you again, kissing every single inch of your neck as you tried desperately to grind up onto him and feel his hardness. “so fucking impatient, you are. Have you got any condoms here?”

“Probably” you turned on your side, reaching for your bedside table and found a single one, handing it to him after checking the expiration date. You watched as he opened and put it on, mesmerized by how hot he looked in agony. Seconds later he was lowering his hips, finally penetrating you, his thick cock spreading you up and making your walls burn. “Fuck, Dan, so fucking big” your legs wrapped around his hips, driving them deeper inside of you.

Daniel groaned in your ear when he bottomed out inside you, the feeling of your cunt swallowing him being ridiculously overwhelming. His lips met yours as he started to grind onto you, hips building up the pace till he was pounding into you. All you could do was moan uncontrollably, if you saw the state you were in you’d be embarrassed but when you had his dick buried inside you it really didn’t matter.

“Daniel, please, faster” you begged, making his hips start snapping against yours. You smiled, feeling every thought slip out of your mind as he fucked your pussy, it hurt so bad but so good, you could feel the tears running down your cheeks.

When he lifted his face up from the crook of your neck he finally saw the state you were in. His hips slowed down reluctantly as he starred at your face. You were about to complain but he cut you off. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, shit, don’t stop, Daniel, please.” you kissed him to show that you were fine, making him speed his movements again. He tried carrying the kiss but your mouth started falling open in pleasure, just whining and mumbling in his ear, you needed more, apparently. So Daniel lifted his body up and threw your legs over his shoulders, shoving a pillow under your hips, you cloud feel every single inch of him as he snapped into you.

“Do you ever shut up?” he teased, annoyed with all the options you had to give on his performance. He then took his two middle fingers and pushed them past your lips. The sight of you sucking on the fingers of his tatted hand driving him crazy. Daniel felt possessive and controlling and you weren’t complaining, felt great having someone wreck you completely. His right hand traveled down from your thigh to your clit, circling it ferociously because he could see and feel how close you were. You came with a embarrassingly loud moan just after a few seconds of his fingers on you, squirting on him and yourself. It dripped down your folds wetting his cock and down the back of your thighs that stamped on his as he still snapped inside you.

“God, you’re gonna be the death of me.” he admired the view in front of him. His fingers were still in your mouth but not sucking anymore, your hands loose above your head, all your muscles shutting down as you let go of the tension that had been building up inside you. He pulled his fingers from your mouth, and his cock out of you before straightening his back “Flip” his hands each side of your hip helping with the transition.

He pushed himself inside you again, the burning sensation less intense now that he had already stretched you on his cock. His thrusts started slow, taking his time to pick up the pace and fixate his eyes on your body. Your head was laid flat on the bed as you arched your back to the maximum, he took notice of your hair splattered out on the covers, of your waist and how small it looked with his hand around it and lastly of your asshole. It was wet from your arousal and release, glistening under the lights and calling for him, he could see it clench around nothing.

Daniel moved his hand from your waist, taking it to his mouth and sucking and spitting on his thumb before folding over you, your back to his chest as he circled the finger around your hole. “Breathe” he whispered in your ear watching you nod before pulling away to watch as his thumb entered you. “Shit” he moaned, felling how tight you were around him, the overwhelming sensation of penetration making your cunt and asshole clench around him in a synchronized motion.

“Daniel, please, just cum, can’t do it anymore, too much.” you groaned against the pillow, feeling overstimulated and used. “Fuck, cum on my ass, Daniel” you whispered, knowing it would drive him insane.

“Fuck” he sighed before he pulled out and ripped the condom off of him, watching your gapping hole clench. The hand that had a finger inside you pulled you closer by the ass, making it rest against his thighs and he pumped his fist around his cock till his cum painted your back with ropes of white. “Shit, shit, shit. Don’t you fucking move” he reached for his pants and pulled out his phone, his thumb immediately making its way back to your hole so he could snap a picture. “That might be the prettiest sight of all, babygirl.”

Daniel pulled out completely, pushing your hip so you fell on your side, your body immediately curling up and shutting down on the mattress. You were a mess, spit covering half of your face, your thighs slippery with arousal and now your back covered in cum.

“Dan?” he hummed “there’s a small towel in my suitcase, right on top. Can you wet it a bit and bring it to me? Please?”

“Yeah, don’t worry i’ll clean you up. Just let me sort myself out first.” he was slightly out of breath too, you could hear it in his voice “Fuck, baby. You okay?” you nodded against the pillow. “Too week to shower right now, yeah? We can shower in the morning.” he said after seeing that your thighs were still quivering.

He got up from the edge of the bed where he was sitting and grabbed the towel from your bag before leaving the room. He came back a few minutes later with a bottle of water and the dampened towel. He dragged it against your thighs, lifting the right one so he could get to your messy middle. Being extremely careful with it he cleaned you up entirely, making sure to leave his cum for last to not spread it all over you.

“Here, got some water.” you sat up against the headboard taking the bottle from his hands. As you drank your water you watched him put his boxers back on and pick up his clothes from the floor, folding them messily and putting them on top of your dresser, his keys and wallet beside them.

“Daniel, just leave it. Turn off the light and come here. ‘M tired.”

He did what you asked and got under the covers, bringing them up to your chest as you laid with your back turned to him. He scooted closer and pulled you in easily with an arm around your waist.

“I’m a cuddler, gonna have to deal with that.” he smiled against your neck, leaving a small kiss before tucking your head right beneath his own so you were comfortably fit in his embrace.

#daniel ricciardo #daniel riccardo x reader #daniel ricciardo smut #f1 #a writes

[actually-a-fish]

The Mitchells vs. The Machines

Hello! I like watching movies. Ideas get stuck in my head while watching them and i need them out of my brain. This is my 4/9/24 viewing of The Mitchells vs. The Machines. I like cartoons :)

This will have spoilers

Without further ado... my thoughts chronologicall

PROLONGED EYE CONTACT DODODODOD

The main VA is Abbie Jacobson (aka Princess Tiabeanie Mariabeanie de la Rochambeau Grunkwitz)

this family reminds me so much of mine minus depression and a commitment to a cult :)

girl its probably a good thing you weren't at the tech reveal. be nice to the siris, alexas and echos in your life...

i kinda wanna watch that robot movie with Will Smith and hot robots now

THEY ALL HAVE STIMS GUYS

running away from your crush and saying you hate them is so real

"what are these? robutts?"

HES TAKING NOTES

I like that the new genre of villian is a tech bro and AI

I dont like this bit about wifi, we are dependent on it yeah but people can adapt pretty well. Well some I guess.

why do dads always suggest eating the family pet?

i cannot express how autistic this family is. its constant, not demeaning or the butt of a joke. just a family being a family. I have flappy hands about it.

aww dads do love to teach their kids to drive stick shift

i do like Eric and Barbara

the robots are shooting the humans into space, that's their plan and honestly i've been saying we should shoot garbage into space for a while now so im glad somone is finally doing it

there are cute edits done by katie through the whole movie and they deserve a shout out

I knew touch screen fridges were a bad idea

NOT FURBYS WTF WHY THIS IS MY NIGHTMARE

"your whole lives i wanted to save you from disater and this is the moment ive been waiting for" - Rick (and also my father)

KATIE DRAWS ON HER HANDS TOO OMG THE DETAILS. THERE IS SO MUCH STIMMING AND IT MAKES ME HAPPY EVERY TIME

This is good family bonding, but no tears yet.

unfortunately i think the family bonding was to good. The dad left a sentimental object in katies bags and now im convinced hes gonna sacrifice himself to save the rest of the family.

now im crying. :) if you watched i bet you could guess which part.

oof crying again! a Twofer!

This movie may be healing my childhood trauma. I miss my parents. They were just doing their best

THE CALL BACKS. THE CULMANATION! ITS MAKING ME EMOTIONAL IM SORRY

thank you game grumps for introducing me to the song "Walk the Dinosaur" by Was (not was)

An accurate compilation of watching my coworkers and professors use computers

uh oh they got little brother, Linda is gonna rip out someone's heart

OH MY GOD I JUST THOUGHT SHE WAS GONNA GET MAD

ERIC AND BARBARA SUPREMECY

damn i need to see my family so i can remember why i hate them bc this is to sweet for me

TEAM E AND B! TEAM E AND B!

How long of a break between the entire world being abducted by robots and everyone going back to work was? Do you think this was like their pandemic

"My name is Monchi, king of kings: Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair"

THEYRE BASED ON A REAL FAMILY (and the whole family has "im easily overstimulated" hair cuts, its so relatable)

It's cheesy. full of stuff you know is meant for kids and that corporate made them do. but I really liked it. I know the whole bit is that the family is weird. I don't really like that they used the word weird instead of autistic but i can kinda understand why they had to do it. i found myself relating the characters constantly. The way they run away when things get overwhelming, communicate through their interests, stim when they have big feelings (they all have their own, and most of them have a couple they do) and the way the situation their in affects them. It is not perfect representation but it did a good enough job for me.

If you read all the way through thank you! If you have any formatting tips please lmk!

Also I feel the silly need to add, this is all my opinion, and my opinion is not fact! It's okay if we don't agree and if you're nice, I would love to hear about it :)

#ihavedaddyissues #the mitchells vs the machines #autism #neurodivergent #special interest #dinosaur #spoilers #the mitchells vs the machines spoilers

[euphoricsunflowers]

more of precious coworker wonwoo?? YES PLEASE 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

based off of this text post and here’s part 1 coworker ww is about to become an iconic character of this blog like college au ww and mafia ww im excited anyway content warning for: sappy cute shit, more making out, mentions of food, light choking whoops, hoshi shows up <3

you: meet me at the spot when you’re done for the day

you: wanna talk to you about smthin

it had been maybe a week since your last meeting and he still remembers the way your lipstick felt against his neck and his wrists still have marks from where he pulled on his restraints. he can’t wear that tie anymore for fear of getting turned on with it wrapped around his neck.

but your text messages have him perplexed. you never want to talk. you do, but it’s never an intention or goal; it’s an afterthought. words spill out of your mouth when you need a break from kissing.

he spends the rest of his work day wondering what the hell you wanted to talk about, but you barely looked in his direction when he crossed paths with you. you’ve always been good about making sure no one notices what’s going on between you both.

he hasn’t. he’s already let it slip to soonyoung, someone his age in his same department, that he’s, for lack of better wording, fooling around with you.

when he makes his way quietly to the janitor’s closet and you pull him inside, you seem different than usual. you seem deep in thought, like whatever you wanted to talk about was really important to you.

should he be worried?

“hey,” he says, awkward in his lack of social ability, “what did you want to talk about?” you look up, with those pretty eyes and a soft smile that makes his stomach jump.

“can i have my moment before i ask you?” you say with a giggle, and he nods. you touch his face so much more gently this time, caressing his cheek and kissing just the edges of his lips to tease him slightly before you go all in, whispering, “god, missed how you taste,” in between kisses, “i’m gonna steal your chapstick one of these days.”

“that’s okay,” he murmurs, holding your hips so you’re pressed tightly against him, “maybe it’ll make you like me more. you’d never stop thinking about me.” he’s usually not a flirt, but he can’t help himself suddenly. he just gets into moods where the flirting just comes so natural.

he gasps when your hand rests easy against his throat. you don’t do anything, because that’s too fast and intense and wonwoo likes things slow. but you keep it there, using it to keep him where he is until you’re satisfied enough to pull away. he’s just so easy to keep kissing. he lets you bite his lips and he holds your waist tightly and it’s dizzying how good it feels to lose yourself in him.

after you get that energy out, you finally let go, choosing his hair instead to play with. you move a piece of his hair that is standing weirdly back to its place, saying, “we should meet up at either my or your place to discuss the project for next quarter. do you have a preference?”

still dazed from a moment ago, he’s got no idea what you’re talking about because you’re in the same department but have been on different teams for a while now. you have no shared projects. what was this really about?

“uhh, what?” he asks, still holding onto you.

“you know, the project,” you say slowly. you result to pointing to the door of the janitor’s closet when it takes him too long to catch on, “we should meet up sometime to discuss it in further detail than we’ve been able to here.”

only then does he get it, “oh that project,” he murmurs, his low voice telling you he knows what you mean, “whatever you prefer.”

“is that something you’d like? to be able to go into further detail?” you ask, cautiously asking like he hasn’t given you every signal that, yes, he wants to take this further. the answer is a resounding yes, it always has been. he doesn’t know how many more times he can jerk off in the bathroom because you left him half hard and dizzy in your rush to your next meeting. he knows that you don’t really mean to, even if you twist it to seem intentional because you feel bad. he knows you feel bad.

and he can see in your eyes some excitement, some nerves, maybe you feel just like him. maybe when he’s got butterflies in his stomach when you kiss his neck, your heart is also going 1000 beats per minute. god he hopes so. he hopes his crush, for lack of a better term, is reciprocated.

“yes, i’d love that,” he smiles, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, “yours or mine?”

“yours,” you say.

“okay,” he says, “i’ll text you my address. you wanna come now?”

“yeah, haven’t gotten to kiss you in like a week- i’ve been so busy i didn’t even have 10 minutes to steal you away,” you murmur to him, running your fingers through his hair one more time, “what am i gonna do with you?”

he tells you, “you can make it up to me,” with a soft smile. he’s too charming for his own good.

you scoff at his antics and move to walk out, “get your stuff together and head out in like 10 minutes. don’t walk out of the building with me.”

after a second he walks out after you, “hey, uhm, are we just discussing the project? or…” he trails off when you look back at him, maybe 15 feet away now. he supposes he has to finish his question, even if he feels scared to, “or are you going to want to do anything else?”

you make a face like you only half get what he’s implying, but you say, “i’ll order food for when we take a break. is sushi okay?” he makes a face at your words.

you laugh, something so melodic to his ears, saying “i’m kidding, i know you don’t like seafood. i’ll get pizza.”

oh, well. he thinks he could really fall in love with you. he’ll tell soonyoung about it on his way out to his car, hiding his face away in shame when his colleague congratulates him for finally getting laid; not that he couldn’t before. but it wouldn’t have been you.

#next episode you’ll finally get in his pants #can’t give that to u now lol #gotta keep you guys on the edge of your seats #anon #seventeen #wonwoo #sub!seventeen #sub!svt #sub!wonwoo

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Hi! This is kinda dark so feel free to ignore! But Im american so i was thinking- has Rulie or any of the emergency responders ever been on the scene of a mass shooting/crime scene?

If yeah, did it effect them mentally at all?

I'm planning to be an EMT someday and I'm actually super worried about ever having to see something like that 😓

I don't mind discussing darker topics, but I'll put my answer under the cut if people want to avoid this.

No one has dealt with a mass shooting, though they have dealt with crime scenes. Hyrule had a stabbing victim that stuck with him for a good while, as well as a body that was found in the woods that he had to be on scene for to confirm the death. He's not the best at expressing when something is wrong, he tends to isolate himself a bit, but Mo knows and can talk to him or distract him, and the Chain notices when Hyrule is being reclusive. Twi gives amazing hugs, Sky is an excellent listener and can kind of coax Rulie to talk. Time is a safe presence for him. Legend and Wars especially are helpful as they are emergency healthcare workers as well and get it. But all the boys are willing to help.

I won't sugar coat it, this stuff does stick with you and it does hurt you. We sometimes see things nobody was meant to see. It's why a lot of people in healthcare have dark and twisted senses of humor and different ways of viewing the world. Something that someone might be super stressed about or feel triggered over or whatever will often not even faze us, and sometimes we lose sight of that and look at normal people with exasperation or impatience. We carry a lot of wounds that others can't see and will never understand unless they've been there.

But it's like that for a lot of people in a lot of different lines of work and life experiences. Trauma is a work hazard in healthcare, but if you go in for the right reason, it's always worth it. I'd say it's reasonable to be afraid of such a situation, but you also have to be aware that it's not a matter of if you run into a dark situation but a matter of when. You will find a call that hurts you. I've had several. What's important with this is knowing how you cope with stress, having coworkers and friends and family who you trust to talk to, and I find having a strong belief system is extremely helpful. If I didn't have my faith I don't even know if I'd be alive at this point.

Be strong, and take courage - God will always look out for you, and if you go in for the right reasons, you'll be okay. <3

Also, now that I've done all this heavy talking, I should also emphasize that the majority of what you'll see in EMS is not actually life threatening emergencies. Like... the stuff people call 911 for... you're far more likely to burn out from idiocy than you are from trauma lol. But when you actually get to help someone who needs it, it's worth all the headache and stress. <3

#you ask skye answers #lovely anon #lu in healthcare #I don't know how to content warning this so uh... #heavy things discussed I guess?

[coldbug]

my coworker didn’t do any of the shit she needed to get done last night so that i could start reaching out to her clients today and she tried to tell me she’d do it tonight like girl NO. you’re doing it with me after you’re done with your client. before you leave. because i don’t fucking work tomorrow. and i emailed everybody on your mailing list yesterday saying that we would be emailing everyone with answers TODAY. and you agreed to me sending that.

so now i have to sit here waiting for her to finish tattooing. so that i can try and force her to actually do the fucking 15 minutes of work i need her to do. so that i can stay late emailing all of these fucking clients 🙃 i fucking hate how much she disrespects me lol. she’s such a bitch i’m sorry

once we get through the list and i know who to email with what info, im literally gonna say like “ok, goodnight! i have to stay here and email all these people now :)” like does she actually care about how her bullshit affects me? like god i’m fucking sorry for caring about my job and caring about the clients. i have to care for the both of us, since she clearly doesn’t give a fuck at all about them

#like you bitch. i wanted you to have this work done on monday so i could email everyone on tuesday. so that i could start scheduling clients #yesterday and today. so i don’t have to leave a huge pile of work for the other person who does emails #who’s significantly newer at the process and often doesn’t know what to do #i wanted to also make HER life easier but now i have to leave all of the scheduling to her and i feel bad abt that #and it has to happen tonight because i Told everybody it would happen today. and because i’m NOT leaving this part to my other coworker #and i’m NOT leaving it until tuesday #every time i think i can’t possibly be more fed up with my tattooer coworker she does more shit like this

[sheyshocked]

Baby It’s All Just Chemistry (2/?)

Chapter title: Medic Has the Bloodiest Hands

Summary: Chemist meets the Medic and things go south very quickly.

Fandom: Team Fortress 2

Ship: Scout/Original Female Character (main), Heavy/Medic (minor), RED!Demo/BLU Soldier (minor) - all in later chapters

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, open-heart surgery

A/N:  Me: “I need to look up something about the Cold War, Interpol, and a Berlin Wall for my fic.” My bro: “Eh… and don’t you mind that it takes place in canon where New Zealand sank to the bottom of the ocean, Australians are superheroes with bushy mustaches, and where Tom Jones was killed off twice?” Me: “…I just think it’s neat.”

Previous chapters: 1 |

You can also read it on ao3!

Fate, if there was indeed such a thing, had a strange sense of humor. How else could Chemist explain that not even a week ago, she was waiting on death row, and now? She had a well-paid job, a roof over her head far from the greedy hands of the communist party, and as a bonus from her generous employer, a bunch of guinea pigs to take care of. Sure, most of her new coworkers seemed rather… unusual, but other than that?

It was an odd turn of events, but not an unwelcome one.

Trying to keep up with Spy and his oh-so-long legs was a losing fight. Not nearly as bad as when she walked with Scout, but at least the buck-teethed youth slowed down every now and then to let her catch up with him. Sure, she could have just asked Spy to do the same… but she didn’t want any of those guys to think she was weak right off the bat. They were all trained killers, and from what she had gathered from her talk with Miss Pauling, weren’t half-bad at their job.

Better not to let them think she would make an easy target.

They chatted a lot on their way, both in Czech and in English. It seemed like Spy had a real talent for languages. Any tongue he switched to sounded nearly immaculate if it weren’t for his prominent French accent. It was pretty impressive, to be honest.

She thought her language skills were also nothing to sneeze at – with her Czech, Slovak, English, some German, and Russian (though hell would sooner freeze over before she spoke any of that language). But she was nothing compared to Spy. And it made sense. With his line of work, he must have been to many different countries. Their family trips to Yugoslavia couldn’t compare. But she had left the Iron Curtain behind. She was free to go wherever she wanted once she gets a vacation.

It was a bitter irony now that she could see the world, all she wanted was to go home. She didn’t think she would miss her country all things considered, but she did.

To get rid of all the painful thoughts, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind: “So… that guy who’s just offered me a drink. Is it even allowed here? I mean, it sounds kinda dangerous, to be drunk on the job.”

Spy gave her a smirk. “Mademoiselle, we’re guns for ‘ire. No one cares what we are doing in our spare time, as long as there isn’t some catastrophic property damage. And you’ll soon find out that Demoman is a very ‘igh functioning drunkard. A sad one, certainly, but gets the job done.”

“Oh, right. Sorry,” she mumbled, feeling kinda silly now. It wasn’t her place to judge anyone here. God knows she had her own problems.

Just to keep the conversation flowing, she asked: “And that lanky fellow, Scout, does he flirt with everything that moves?”

This time, Spy groaned and rolled his eyes, exasperated. “Unfortunately, yes. But don’t worry. The boy is all bark and no bite. Just ignore ‘im and ‘e’ll go away.”

Called it. She knew a lot of guys like that back in her college days. Loud and obnoxious, but overall harmless. As long as it wouldn’t take poisoning his food to make him back off, they would get along just fine.

They went down a long corridor with many doors. Each had a symbol drawn upon them. They were all similar to the one she had on her Mann Co.-issued uniform. Hers depicted a flask with a skull and crossed bones. She rather liked it. It was simple, straight to the point.

Spy led her to the last entrance on the left. It was the only one without a mark. She glanced at the door next to it to get an idea of who was gonna be her neighbor – the symbol there depicted a shoe with wings. That was most likely a reference to Hermes, the messenger of gods. Whoever stayed in that room had to be quick on his feet. Her best tip was the Scout.

Just her luck. She had to bunk right next to the guy who tried to hit on her. Perfect.

Spy was kind enough to open the door for her and she waltzed right in, setting the crate on the ground next to the bed. Finally! She wouldn’t be able to carry it for much longer. She wiped the sweat off her brow and opened the lid with holes to check on the guinea pigs.

As soon as the lid went off, they all started wheeking and running around, thinking they were about to get a treat. Poor guys. The journey here was a long one and the heat nearly unbearable, but thank god, all six of them made it in a good health.

“Ugh, what’s that?” Spy scoffed, a disgusted sneer on his face. What, did he not like animals?

“My guinea pigs! To run experiments on and such.” Technically not a lie. She did get them for work. So what that she wouldn’t use them for their original purpose?

Spy didn’t seem to approve either way. “Just make sure they won’t escape their containment. I would ‘ate to ‘ave vermin running through my closet.”

“There are far worse things you could have there, you know?” she rolled her eyes. It was a little disheartening. She was hoping some of her teammates would share her enthusiasm for small rodents. But then again, looking at Spy’s neat suit, it was no wonder he didn’t. Fancy people rarely appreciated pets.

His loss.

“But don’t worry,” she reassured him. “They will get a proper cage soon. No escape attempts.”

She started rummaging through her large backpack. There should be a few carrots prepared for her little charges. Hm, but where were they now?

She brushed away her gas mask and a case with her reading glasses until her fingers closed around a pack of vegetables. Excellent.

She glanced back at Spy, who was watching her with a keen eye. “Please, is there a sink somewhere? I need to clean these and refill their water bottle.”

“Stay away from the sinks if you can. The tap water in the whole town is full of lead – that’s why we left some bottled water by your bedside.”

That made her perk up. “Lead? But that’s amazing! I haven’t studied severe lead poisoning in… well, ever! Tell me, has anyone tried it yet?”

Spy looked weirded out at first, but that was fine. Most people did. She was used to it by now. Her methods may be unorthodox, but no one could deny they were damn effective.

Just not always the way she intended.

“You might want to ask Soldier. I ‘ave a feeling ‘e didn’t get the memo.”

She grinned. “I will ask him! Thanks.” Her gaze shifted back to her guinea pigs. They were getting impatient now, climbing one another to try and get out of the box. “Oh, but I have to remember to give piggies only the bottled water. Lead might be too much for their little organisms, poor things.”

Well, she should get down to business.

As she was taking care of her pets, humming a soft tune while doing so, Spy was watching her with his piercing gaze. It made her nervous as all hell.

No way I’m gonna unpack my things in front of him, she thought solemnly.

“There, all done,” she turned to face him once again, trying to appear more stoic than she felt. Only then she realized she was fidgeting with her hands like some damn schoolgirl. Drat! So much so for trying to seem tough. “Eh, you said you need to take me to the Medic’s office for a check-up, right? How about we go now?”

Thank god he didn’t comment on her unease, even though he had to see it clear as day. Instead, he accommodated her, saying: “Of course. Follow me.”

He gave her a quick tour through the entire base, showing her all the important places – shooting range, laundry room, Engie’s workshop, rec room as well as the showers. That last one gave her a pause.

It reminded her of her prison experience. No booths, no privacy, nothing. Just a bunch of ugly shower heads sticking from the walls. At least the tiles looked somewhat clean, but that set the bar pretty low.

Bloody hell. Off to a great start.

“I guess you don’t have a women’s bathroom here, right?”

It wouldn’t make much sense, since she had yet to see another woman on the base, but hey. Hope dies last.

“Non.”

…Hope died in the vanguard.

“But that’s quite easy to fix. We can always create a schedule, so you won’t ‘ave to share with the others.”

Well, it was far from ideal, but it was something. Either way, she was glad Spy was so considerate. He could also tell her to suck it up, that she is now a mercenary first and woman second, but something told her he also wasn’t fond of communal showers. Had to be that balaclava of his. The air of secrecy around him.

Did he ever take it off in front of the others?

“Thanks, that sounds great.” She paused for a few seconds, squinting at the door. There was no lock on it. “And they won’t peek or anything while I’m in here?”

Spy honest to god chuckled. “I doubt it. We may be the scum of society, Mademoiselle, but we would never ‘arass a teammate like that. But if someone does? You ‘ave every right to shoot them right between the eyes.”

Finally, they turned around the corner and went to the Medic’s domain. Spy stopped right in front of the door with a big red cross on it and lit himself a cigarette. Then, he turned towards Chemist. “I’ll ‘ave to leave you now, I still ‘ave other business to attend to. It was a pleasure meeting you, Chemist. Au revoir.”

With that, he pressed a button on his watch and disappeared into a thick cloud of smoke. Some of it got stuck in her nose and made her sneeze. Woah, what the hell was that? Her eyes darted around in a desperate attempt to find him, but no luck. Wonderful. A man who could become invisible on a whim had to be a pain in the neck on the battlefield.

But the clock was ticking. She better get this over with and see the Medic.

It would be rude to enter without knocking, she thought, so she first rapped her knuckles on the door. No response. She heard faint music through the wood (it sounded like Beethoven, but she couldn’t be quite sure), so he was definitively in there. Just didn’t hear her. She tried once more, but with the same results. That’s when she threw her politeness aside and simply invited herself in.

Unfortunately, she ran into a tall dark-haired man who looked like he was about to exit the clinic. He nearly dropped the folder of papers he was carrying. “Ah, entschuldigung, Mädchen! I haven’t heard you come in!”

Oh. So their doctor was German. And a handsome one, too. Not that it mattered or anything! It just caught her off guard. She wasn’t expecting so many fellow Europeans on the team. It made her feel a little more at home.

“No, no, I apologize, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have barged in like this when you didn’t hear me knocking the first time. Anyway,” she pushed a hand in between them for him to shake, but she did it so clumsily that she nearly punched him in the stomach. “I’m Chemist, your new coworker. Nice to meet you, sir…”

Amazing, she had to roll her eyes at her own antics and chuckled nervously in an attempt to save her face. As if anything could save after this horrible display. Are you gonna twirl your hair in front of him like some dumb teenager too? Pull your act together!

Thank god the good doctor didn’t make a meal out of it. He even giggled – did she hear that right, did he really giggle? – before shaking her hand. Much like Engie, he had a nice, steady grip.

“Medic, at your service.” He bowed to her, which made her chuckle a little. It was so silly and charming at the same time. No one has ever done this to her before. “Tell me, have you seen Heavy around? I was waiting for him to stop by, but he still hasn’t shown up.”

Her face fell. “The big guy? Sure. He was in the cafeteria.”

“That does sound like him,” the doctor chuckled while fondly rolling his eyes. “He gets so distracted by his sandwiches he forgets all about time. But nevermind. Let me look at you.”

Once she nodded, he started studying her features with rapt attention. He even circled her a few times, raising her arm as if he were testing her joints. Odd, but she let him do whatever he had to do. In the end, he gave her a toothy wolf-like grin.

“You seem to have a perfect bone structure. That’s wunderbar! At least you’ll be able to take quite a few punches before collapsing.”

“Um, thanks…?”

“A mere observation, Fräulein. Don’t worry about it.” A sinister smile found its way onto his face. No matter how handsome he was, it was still creepy as hell. It wasn’t enough to make her reconsider all of her life choices that led her here, but it was still pretty damn close. “You are also just the right size for me to use that Loch Ness monster’s heart I’ve been saving for special occasions. What a lucky day!”

…Okay, this was weird. What was he even talking about? A Loch Ness monster’s heart? Unfortunately, before she could ask what did he mean, he ushered her deeper into the room, showing her an empty chair to sit on. “But first let’s start with your examination, ja? Take a seat, please. I will be right back.”

Too late to run, she obeyed, looking around so she could figure out an escape route, in case something went amiss. Not that she believed it would, it was just better to be prepared. Being hunted down by the police taught her that.

The room was large, probably fit to serve as a surgical theatre in need, and cramped with all sorts of medical equipment. The first thing that caught her attention was the huge examination table standing right innocuously in the middle. There was some sort of an… instrument? hanging above it. It looked like a homemade gun, but not quite. Hm, what purpose could it possibly serve?

She also noticed an old record player, the one she heard playing before she entered the clinic, lots of buckets for some reason, a fridge (for snacks?), and… wait. What was that noise?

First, she heard a soft fluttering of multiple wings, then, cooing. She looked up and noticed a flock of snow-white birds, just hanging around. One with suspiciously dirty feathers flew down and sat on Medic’s shoulder, who immediately started petting him and crooning at him. Such an adorable view. It took her almost embarrassingly long to realize there were living birds inside the infirmary, which should have high hygienic standards.

“You have doves here?”

Medic snapped his head around as if he only now remembered she was waiting there. “Oh, ja. Miss Pauling ordered me to keep them in a cage after the last incident, but they always seem to find a way to break out and free themselves. Isn’t that right, Archimedes?”

He gently ruffled the feathers of the dirty dove sitting on his shoulder, who gave him an agreeable coo in return. Wait. The bird’s name was Archimedes? Aww. Now that she thought about it, she still had to name her guinea pigs.

“They are cute. Can I pet one?”

This seemed to take Medic by surprise, but after giving it some thought, he shrugged, nearly shaking poor Archimedes off. “Hm, I don’t see why not. Just be careful. They have very sharp beaks.”

He picked some basic medical instruments like a stethoscope and that thing for measuring blood pressure (with that horrible long name in English she could never memorize) and walked back towards her with Archimedes ready on his arm. The little bird was watching her with his tiny bead-like eyes. But once she reached for him, he let out a screech and flew away.

“Archimedes, that’s rude! Sorry, Fräulein, he’s a little bit shy around new people. Give him time. In the meantime, we can proceed with your check-up, hm?”

She nodded with a slight pout. She couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed Archimedes didn’t take a liking to her immediately. But then again, Medic was right – pets took a lot of time to warm up to a person. Besides, she had more pressing matters to worry about right now.

The examination was pretty standard – some measuring of weight and height as well as blood pressure. The good doctor listened to her heart, took a sample of her blood (probably more than was needed, but hey, she wasn’t complaining), and asked some simple if a bit uncomfortable questions. The usual stuff.

In the end, he seemed quite pleased with the results, which made her feel oddly proud. Like she just got a good mark from her favorite college professor. Completely normal.

But then it took a sharp turn.

“All right, nothing seems to be out of the ordinary, except for the slight arrhythmia. That means it’s time for the surgery!” he flashed her that grin from ear to ear again. “Strip down to the waist and lie down on the examination table, bitte.”

WHAT?!

It happened so fast, her brain had trouble catching up. Confusion and concern in equal measure flooded her mind. And everything became much worse when she saw the scary-looking bone saw he pulled out from somewhere.

“Wait, hold on!” she choked up, her throat feeling way too constricted to talk normally. “You said everything was fine, so what kind of surgery are you talking about?!”

He arched one eyebrow at her, puzzled. As if she was the one who was acting unreasonably, and not him. “You haven’t read the contract?”

Can’t say she did. Not the entire thing. It’s hard to pay attention when you are on the run from jail. The only condition she read thoroughly was that any relationships between the two teams were strictly forbidden, but that didn’t make much sense to her back then. So she frantically shook her head, which made Medic frown.

The only thing scarier than his smiles was his dissatisfied face.

“One of the requirements for this job is open-heart surgery. In short, I’m gonna replace your heart, so it won’t explode inside your ribcage when I use my übercharge on you. Any questions before we get on with it?”

Oh Lord. She was gonna die here, wasn’t she?

But not without a fight.

There was a scalpel lying on the table right next to her arm. It wouldn’t be her weapon of choice under any circumstances, but right now it was her best shot. Her hand shook so badly when she grabbed it. Without thinking twice, she struck blindly in the general direction of the madman.

A sharp hiss told her she haven’t missed.

She opened her eyes only to see a nasty, bleeding scar on one of Medic’s sharp cheeks. There was a dangerous gleam in his eyes. She wasn’t gonna stand around and wait for him to strike back.

Before he could grab her and probably slam her on the table like a disobedient cat, she slipped right underneath his arm (advantage of being this short, she mused) and ran for the door. Thank god it wasn’t that far.

She reached for the handle, pressed it… and got nothing. The door was stuck. Damn it! This was like a prom night all over again. A living nightmare. Did he lock the door when she wasn’t looking?! Cold sweat ran down her forehead as she started pulling it about with all her weight, praying it would open. But it didn’t.

Well, she was positively screwed.

By now, he had enough time to get to her. He didn’t, though. Why? Afraid of what she was about to see, she glanced over her shoulder, the scalpel still in her hand, prepared to go for the throat if necessary, and was taken by surprise when she spotted Medic at the same place where she had left him, one finger stuck in the air as if he wanted to say something and was rudely interrupted.

The sheer bizarreness of the situation made her stop right in her tracks and stare at him owlishly, waiting for what he was about to do. She regretted not having her chemicals here. Even a stupid chlorine would do.

“Fräulein? Don’t try to force the door open, you’ll only make it worse. It gets jammed quite frequently. Now, calm down, it’s only a minor procedure, we all went through with it, even Herr Scout, so stop being such a baby and hop on the table. I won’t ask again.”

“Open-heart surgery, a minor procedure?!” she sputtered. “In what universe?”

He rolled his eyes at her. “In this one. You’ll see. So, what will it be? Do I have to restrain you or will you behave?”

This was so messed up, but something told her that undergoing it tied down to the table would be much worse, so she decided to obey, at least until she gets another opportunity to run. She climbed on the operating table and took off her lab coat, shirt, and after some hesitation, her bra. Heh, and to think Medic seeing her breasts became the least of her problems right now…

The doctor turned his back towards her, maybe to give her some semblance of privacy or, and that was the most likely option, to ready his instruments. There was her chance. She could knock him out and make a run for it.

Unfortunately, before she could grab something heavy, Medic turned towards her with a sadistic smirk on his face. Shit. Too late now.

“Are you at least going to give me anesthesia?”

Medic looked at her as if she grew a second head. Surely he couldn’t mean… “Nein, nein, that would be a waste. You won’t feel a thing anyway.”

Jesus Christ. She felt her heart beating so fast it could break her ribs and march out of her chest on its own. No need for surgery. Any second now, she was going to faint. Maybe that’s what Medic meant when he argued she won’t need any anesthesia. But then he turned the odd gun-like thing hanging above her on. She was immediately flooded with a strange tingling sensation.

“What’s that?”

“This? Oh, that’s just Quick-fix. It instantly heals you, so you won’t bleed out. Feels good, ja?”

“I don’t know. It’s… odd.”

The mad doctor leaned his head down in front of the scarlet fumes and turned his still-bleeding cheek towards it. A few seconds after that, the wound healed itself, not even leaving a scar behind. Chemist choked up on her saliva. What sorcery was this?! Well, not sorcery, everything had to have a scientific explanation, she just couldn’t find one right now.

“Woah! Doctor, what’s in those fumes? It’s not nitrous oxide, is it? I was trying to make something like this all my life and…”

Medic smirked. “Curious little thing, aren’t you? You know what, I might as well tell you if you stop squirming and let me do my job. Do we have a deal?”

“Deal!” With interest piqued, she ceased wiggling around and observed what was happening.

Having her chest split open with a scalpel was far from a pleasant sight, but she had to admit it didn’t hurt. Not even a little bit. Despite chattering and tittering the entire time, Medic worked fast and his hand was steady.

“Where are you from, Chemist? I’m from Stuttgart myself, but I’ve been quite the globetrotter, so I’m wondering if we’ve ever crossed paths before.”

She sincerely doubted it. She has never been to Germany, and even if, Stuttgart was “on the other side of the Berlin Wall”. Off-limits for people like her. “Perhaps. I’ve lived and studied in Prague.”

Medic’s face suddenly lit up. “Ah, Prague. Wonderful city. I spent some time there when I was younger. But then Interpol caught a whiff of my trail and I had to move again.”

“Wait. You’ve been searched for by Interpol?!”

“Ah heh, ja. It’s a little bit embarrassing. Happened shortly after I lost my medical license. Now now, stop hyperventilating, bitte. You’re spoiling my cuts.”

Easy for him to say. He didn’t have a man operating on him without a license. But then again, perhaps she should have been more surprised he had one in the first place. Everything about this was screaming malpractice. Even though she couldn’t deny he showed a lot of skill and precision while baring her organs underneath the skin and bones.

It took a while, but finally, her chest was wide open. At first, she tried to avoid looking at her innards, simply because it was too weird – and that was coming from a person who willingly joined a bunch of deranged mercenaries – but then Medic let out a fascinated whistle. She had to see what was going on. So she glanced down… and yelped.

When did her organs become so dark and shriveled? Her heart looked like an ugly little prune, liver resembled stone. Some other parts she couldn’t even recognize. Gross! How did this happen? And what did it even mean? Was she gonna die at the ripe age of twenty-three?

“Uh… this is not supposed to look like this, is it?” she asked, her voice getting an octave higher with hysteria. The piece of charcoal she called a heart immediately started pumping more blood into her body, preparing her for fight or flight. But what was she hoping to escape? Her own mangled guts?

Medic once again pushed his glasses up his nose, careful not to smudge them with her blood, which was still red and healthy-looking, thank god. Only then it came to her that he wasn’t wearing his gloves. How hygienic. Maybe sepsis would get her sooner than this madness.

“Ooh, fascinating! I’ve never seen so much damage in one body before.” Was that supposed to calm her down?! “I would have to run some tests to be sure what caused it, but given your line of profession… have you ever been poisoned, Chemist?”

That’s when it finally clicked. Oh. She gave him a tight little nod.

“Thought so. That had to be one hell of a toxin. I’m impressed you’re even alive.”

Despite everything, she forced a smug smile. “Thanks. It was my own recipe.”

“I see. Have you always had suicidal tendencies?”

“What? No, it wasn’t… it was an experiment gone wrong. I was testing a new solution and the next thing I remember, I woke up in a hospital. It’s simple as that.”

She never liked to talk about it. Not only because it was embarrassing, but also because no one ever understood. Not even her sister. Or dad. They all thought she was sick in the head. Poor little girl, playing with bad things hoping they would do any good. Bah! But Medic, he got it. She saw it in his eyes. That mad spark. His smile full of teeth.

“Splendid. A woman of science who’s also not afraid of experimentation. Though I would recommend using willing test subjects next time, rather than delving into it yourself. The results are more reliable, then. Much more satisfying, too.”

“Perhaps. But I kinda like it my way.” She was hoping he would leave it at that, and he did. With agreeable harumph, he went back to work.

“I’ll have to replace most of this, but don’t worry – you’ll soon be as good as new. Maybe even better.” His eyes shifted toward the mysterious fridge. So no snacks then. Shame. “Hm, now that I think about it, I don’t have any fresh livers at the moment. I used the last one on Herr Demoman. Ah, doesn’t matter. I’ll send Miss Pauling a request, it’ll just take a while. Come back later this week and we’ll get you all set up before your first real battle, ja?”

“All right. Thanks, doctor.”

“Don’t mention it. It’s my job. And also a hobby.”

He started digging around in her chest, cutting free the sad excuse of organs one by one and replacing them for more healthy-looking counterparts (she couldn’t help but notice he stuck some strange metal device in her new heart. Hopefully it was no self-destructive gizmo or something equally bad). She quickly lost track of time. It was taking soooo long. Even though Medic tried to humor her by talking to her, she still grew bored fairly quickly. She wasn’t used to just lay on her back, doing nothing. Solving equations in her head only helped so much.

She was just about to ask how much longer will it take, when Medic wiped the sweat off his brow and said: “All right, all done for now.”

He flipped the switch on the Quick-fix and… Woah! A gasp was punched straight out of her lungs as her flesh and bones started mending themselves right in front of her eyes. Just like that. It was done faster than it began, and Chemist immediately pawed at her chest, trying to find any proof she was operated on but found none. Not even a slight dent. If it didn’t go against everything she believed in, she would say it was a miracle.

Medic handed her her lab coat, so she quickly covered herself, then sat at the edge of the table and with stars in her eyes breathed out: “Doctor, that was amazing! I really didn’t feel a thing! Now you have to tell me everything about those fumes.”

He laughed before indulging her.

***

She spent another hour or so at the Medic’s office, just chatting about his greatest invention, but then Heavy showed up and she had to go. Maybe it was for the best. No offense, but she didn’t want to spend more time than she necessarily had to with some big scary Russian guy. Not after what happened back home.

Besides, the doctor seemed eager to shoo her away as soon as the other member of the team turned up. Pity. Or not. She still had no idea what to think of him. On one hand, he was extremely intelligent and seemed to know what he was doing. On the other, he was unhinged with no regard for ethics or morals. The duality of a man.

Well, it ended up way better than she expected. Which wasn’t saying much, since she thought she was going to be slaughtered and made into čevabčiči, but that wasn’t the point.

She whistled on her way back to her room. She felt so much lighter now. It better not be because the doctor forgot to put something essential back in, she shuddered at the thought, but she quickly put it behind herself. She was fine. Everything would be just fine.

As soon as the door closed behind her, she leaned against its frame, letting out a big sigh. Finally alone. Now she could look around, take it all in and unpack her things.

The room was small and very plain with only a simple bed, a small table and a wardrobe, a telephone, and the crate currently occupied by guinea pigs. Nothing special, but as a student, she survived worse. She grabbed her backpack and started unpacking.

She had just prepared clothes and her mask for tomorrow’s training when the phone started ringing. Odd. She wasn’t expecting a call. The only people she knew were still trapped in the old continent, so it could be only her boss. She picked it up and was greeted by Miss Pauling’s warm voice: “Chemist, it’s Pauling here. I got you the bag and all the chemicals you requested. I will drop by tomorrow and bring it to you.”

“So soon? Well, thank you, Miss. I was worried I was asking for too much, but it seems like you have it all covered, huh?”

“You bet,” Miss Pauling chuckled. “You’re welcome, by the way. Anyway, how did meeting the team go? I know they can be a bit too much, but you’ll soon get used to it, trust me.”

She chuckled. That was an understatement of the year, but she would take it. “It was fine. They were all very nice, all things considered. It’s just a lot to take in, I guess.”

“I know what you mean. Take your time. You’ll see it gets better.” A pause. Then: “Oh, and one more thing – I’ll have to speak with you in private once I see you. It’s about your sister.”

That made Chemist straighten up, hope filling her voice as she croaked out: “My sister? Have you found her? Is she… is she all right? Please tell me she’s all right.”

She heard a rustle on the other side, followed by a sigh. “I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you more right now. I promise I’ll explain when we meet again. Until then… goodnight, Chemist. Try to get some sleep. It’s a big day tomorrow.”

Disappointed, Chemist sank on her bed, the telephone still in her hand. Her only luck was that the wire was long enough so she could lie down without having to cut the call. “I see. Well, it was worth a shot. Goodnight, Miss Pauling. And thanks again. For everything.”

The call ended with a sheepish noise coming from the other end. Chemist held the phone receiver to her chest long after the sound of Miss Pauling’s voice was gone. She was the bravest, most badass woman she had ever met. She singlehandedly led her out of jail and smuggled her out of the country. If anyone could save Marie, it was her. She just had to be patient. Do her job, fight tooth and nail and wait. She could do that.

She stole one last long look at the picture now sitting on her bedside table before she went to undress and slip under the covers.

Hopefully, tomorrow would bring good things.

***

Translations and context: Spy: Au revoir – goodbye Medic: Entschuldigung, Mädchen – sorry, girl Medic: That’s wunderbar – That’s wonderful Medic: Fräulein – Miss Medic: Bitte – please

“family trips to Yugoslavia” – Yugoslavia was one of the few countries people from Czechoslovakia could visit (but getting permission to travel there wasn’t easy and usually part of the family had to stay, so those who went wouldn’t be tempted to emigrate). It was much easier to travel to Bulgaria, Hungary, Romania, or East Germany, but Yugoslavia remained one of the most popular. “nitrous oxide” – commonly known as a “laughing gas”, it has anesthetic and pain-reducing effects “Berlin wall” – also called “Wall of Shame” by the western authorities and “Anti-Fascist Protection Rampart” by the eastern ones, was built in 1961 (seven years before this story takes place) to separate West Germany from the East. East Berliners weren’t allowed to cross the border at all and risked being gunned down if they tried to escape “Interpol” – International Criminal Police Organization, founded on 7th September 1923 in Vienna under the name International Criminal Police Commission (ICPC), it got its name in 1956 (so only twelve years before the story of TF2 takes place; Medic would probably use the older name, but for the sake of clarity, I used the “newer” one) “čevabčiči” – common food made from minced meat served in many restaurants during the socialist era (but still popular to this day)

#team fortress 2 #tf2 #tf2 fanfiction #tf2 oc #tf2 spy #tf2 medic #tf2 miss pauling #tf2 tenth class #shey scribbles #multiple chapters #baby it's all just chemistry

[marcholasmoth]

OSRR: 3102

this is 1034 times 3.

i got up early today, got ready early, and brought joel in to work this morning. then i stopped at starbucks and went to work, where i sat in the parking lot on the phone with discover student loans getting my loans put on forbearance again because i simply do not make enough money. good news is we were successful and i got that all done before going inside. i was in at work by 9am.

basically right away i started helping people, even before i was supposed to be on the clock. but i figured screw it, might as well help since i'm here. so i did. and then i didn't have people leave my table until 3:45pm. nonstop for six and a half hours. i eventually was able to eat some tuna so o could get some protein in my system, so that was good, but i also ate a bunch of chocolate.

i made plans with some coworkers for tomorrow or thursday and then next tuesday, so i'm excited for those.

i also managed to catch up on filling out reports, which was good. i intend to be better at filing reports this year. so far so good.

after work, i got joel and we came back to the house. i learned friday is gonna be in the negatives, so the big bottles of water were brought in to keep them from freezing. in the meantime i went and took a nap because i was exhausted and 90% overstimulated and needed a goddamn break.

when my alarm went off i hit stop. joel came in shortly thereafter to ask about food. what i didn't realize that "shortly thereafter" wasn't shortly. it was an hour later. i have been so tired lately that i've been basically hallucinating things.

the other day i woke up at like 7:50am because i heard my mom calling me from downstairs. she called me twice, but my voice was sleep-weakened so i texted her instead. i stayed conscious enough to make sure that her phone received my texts and then i rolled over again and passed back out.

i later learned that my texts woke my mom up in the other room. and my texts didn't say what i thought they did. they were, more or less, incomprehensible.

i MEANT to say, "you called me? im still 90% asleep"

and then it was supposed to me "im still sleepy"

and when i realized nothing was right, i went "whatever" and put "zzzzzz" because Z's mean sleeping, right?

mom had no idea what i meant. which makes sense.

so me dreaming something happens and it not happening has gotten more frequent because of my exhaustion.

rip.

after my nap, i woke up and went to find something to eat. i decided on frosted flakes, because that shit slaps, but when i went in search of a spoon, i couldn't find one. the dishwasher was running and there were no spoons in either the drawer or the sink, so i walked around the kitchen in search of a suitable replacement. my consternation at not finding one was palpable.

and then, just when i was ready to give up,

i was blessed by the soup gods, the cereal gods, and the spoon gods alike.

there was a single spoon on the corner of the counter that had not been there moments before.

i looked at it, picked it up, and determined it was dirty, so i washed it so i could use it happily. i sat at the table and ate my cereal and it was really, really nice.

i was still hungry maybe an hour after eating it, though, and j pondered getting mcdonald's. but i made no move, because i was comfortable and i was finally writing again.

and then joel came upstairs around 10 to take a shower and said he hadn't eaten, so i offered to get mcdonald's. he pointed to where his wallet was and said i could use his debit card, so i grabbed my socks and my sweatshirt and my boots and i went to mcdonald's. came back 20 minutes later and we enjoyed hot fresh fries and ice cream and i went back to writing. it's now midnight 41 and we've happily eaten, i've written about a thousand or so words, and joel is sound asleep beside me.

it's been a long and busy and exhausting day, but it's been good.

#molly rambles #operation srr #osrr #3000s #3100s #sunshine boy

[ihateeverything101]

my days been ok!! it's frustrating because i am glad my partner has a job now but i am frustrated with how easy they have it. my partner told their work about having 1 car and struggling right now and they were like oh no problem you can work remote 3 days a week and in office 2 days a week until you can go full remote. i wish i got that. it's literally his first week. his health benefits start immediately and the therapy discounts that we talked about before. and now that he's working remote he basically isn't working, he messaged me like last meeting at 2PM then said he is getting off then probably will clock off. he got off then said he is watching youtube then gonna clock off. then he says hey ya know im going to clock out at my out time of 4:30. that's fine but screw him. i wish i had remote days and i wish i could fuck off but when i'm remote im taking care of him or doing chores for him. not having fun. i'm glad he is working remote because yesterday was the first day we drove in together and god it was bad. i swear he is going to cost us more money by trying to get home quicker. yeah i want to get home too but running a red light costs us money in ticket or court fees. then he was hitting the pen so that costs money. there is an express lane separate from the rest of the highway and it costs like a minimum of $7 to do. then we get off the express lane 1 exit before our exit and then it's another $3 to drive in the express lane to our exit. i told him not to do it because the traffic isn't even bad once we get 1 exit away. spending $10 everyday adds up a lot, $7 isn't much better but it is. he said oh hits on the pen is cheaper than $3. do you know? jacksss?? have you done the math?? because it's not even the end of the week yet and this pen is almost gone. it would last me till the end of the week. it costs money to buy carts and i have to maintain the pen and the charge, another thing to worry about. hitting the pen so hard. he gets frustrated with me when i am trying to talk to him. yesterday he told me i need to stretch more, yeah that's true, everyone could probably stretch more. but i stretch for each of my breaks at work, i go outside snd stretch the whole time. again i'm not saying there isn't anything i could do to improve but jesus. then it felt like he got pissed off at me when i answered him with basically what i'm saying now. i never completely shut down what he is saying because i know that annoys him. i acknowledge what he says and then tell him my opinion. i said i could probably stretch more but i do a lot or more than you think already. i stretch so much and more so than i have in the past months, again that is an excuse but jesus. fuck off dude.

work has been ok, Wednesdays are my favorite because i get to work with my coworker Denise. and i get to drive home by myself which i didn't know was a gift

[borderline-gays-club]

So not entirely BPD related…

But honestly everything is BPD related cus that’s how I view and interact with the world.

Anyway preface done. Lol. But god as im working in the restaurant industry again, on the other side of my own rock bottom(s), im looking at everyone like, fuck. Capitalism TRULY destroys ppls imagination and spirit. It’s so sad to witness.

When I’m bored as shit at work (which is most of the time lol) I just ask my coworkers random questions, and one is simply, what do u want to do with ur life? And god…the responses I’ve gotten are fuckin sad.

I got a literal nothing. I want to do nothing. Just lay and do nothing. I got I want to end it now (which ngl I kinda laughed cus I feel that deep in me. The mood is real). And I mean that one was half serious. And then someone else just said my hobby is spending money lmao. And this was an adjacent question of, wat wud u want to do for work instead of this and they said factory work cus it sounds meditative.

The only person with a genuine hope for life is this one boy who’s the youngest in FOH and he wants to open a restaurant and is actually passionate abt it. I hope to god he doesn’t lose that light cus fuck we all need it. It’s so bleak to hear all these sad ass answers.

It’s just like everyone just truly gave up and are just stuck in this hellish cycle of make money, spend money rinse and repeat. There’s no ability to imagine a different and better life. At least not realistically. And I was there too not very long ago: I remember thinking, I’m just gonna do this my whole life and was like watever abt it. I didn’t have plans, I didn’t have any real goals. I didn’t care abt anything.

And it took an immense amt of pain and work to get to where I’m at now and I can look at my surroundings with a different lens now. And I’m starting to fully concretely see the patterns of the type of ppl that end up in this work (including where I currently fit in and where I used to).

But god I’m beyond words with how I’m so grateful for all the events that lead me up to this point where I have regained my imagination for life and joy. Bc I was literally spiritually dead for so long. I think bc my emotional instability was so visible and erratic (thanx BPD), that I simply couldn’t ignore it. And also I was seen as the unstable mentally ill one. Like a special case.

But the more I look at ppl I’m like…I’m truly not a special case at all. Everyone’s fucking sick in the head. They just don’t see it or don’t want to see it. And also different presentations of different problems will b accepted or not. (Easiest example being; alcoholism as an addiction is socially accepted and even celebrated whereas a meth addiction for example is seen as marginal and deplorable). So most ppls mental illness is simply acceptable or the norm when really everyone’s sick.

But I guess myself being seen as “too much” made me believe that I needed help. But it’s like…we all need collective help. This country is literally strategically making us all sicker by the day. It truly feels like a weird nightmare that I still want to exist in just so I can see the other side of the dream.

#actually bpd #bpd #bgc #bpd thoughts #quiet borderline #actually borderline #bpd shit

[burnedbyshoto]

the bodyguard

— Kirishima gets assigned to be the bodyguard to one of the worlds greatest idols: you. —

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

pairing: bodyguard!kirishima eijirou x idol!reader

warnings: nsfw, 18+, brat taming, authority kink, spanking, blowjob, slapping, choking, brat taming, brat!reader, modern!au, no quirks, bodyguard!kirishima, idol!reader, PTSD portrayal, anxiety, war flashbacks, implied minor character death, drugging, alcohol consumption, size difference: kirishima is 2 feet taller than you, regardless of the reader’s original height. If you’re 6 ft congrats he’s 8 ft.

word count: 20,500

a/n: this is for the bnharem collab.... im so sorry, it’s 4:30 am and I have a plane to catch in 2 hours to get back to school. thank you jo for proofreading this for me because lol I am a mess. if the paragraph spacing did not work as I wish it does, please let me know so I can go in and edit in visible paragraph spacers!

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“I’ll be okay.”

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

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

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

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

What had he done?

What in the fucking world had he done?!

BOOM!

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

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

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

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

05:30.

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

Inhale.

Hold.

Exhale.

Better?

No, not yet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“W-Wha—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘Cause I’m a stalker, duh.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Kirishima-kun, are you okay?”

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

“Kirishima-kun?”

“Yo, he’s not looking too hot?”

“Kirishima?!”

“Can you hear us?!”

Silence.

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

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

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

He was okay.

He was okay.

He was okay.

“Kirishima?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

But he was obviously not the first choice still.

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

“Toshinori—”

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

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

He had barely passed the admittance test.

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

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

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

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

“I can do it.”

A smile.

“Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were tiny.

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

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

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

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

“Six months tops.”

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

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

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

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

“...no,” Kirishima answers truthfully.

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

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

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

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

Fuck, that one hurt.

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

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

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

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

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

“Six months,” Kirishima agreed.

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

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

“You got it.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, yes, let’s continue.”

So, the contract was discussed to full detail.

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

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

Or so the contract said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, so much for a good case.

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

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

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

You always managed to sneak away from him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ya, okay, bye!”

“By—”

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

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

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

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

He wanted to be just a fan.

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

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

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

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

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

“You know I can’t do that it’s not—”

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

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

And then there’s only silence.

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

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

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

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

He knew that.

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

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

You were a good person.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...how interesting.

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

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

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

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

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

“Very much.”

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

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

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

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

So much for change.

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

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

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

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

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

It had been a hard morning.

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

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

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

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

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

But today, Kirishima was exhausted.

Today, Kirishima wanted to sleep.

Today… Kirishima broke.

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

You ignore him.

“We’re leaving, now.”

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

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

He grabs your wrist and begins pulling you away.

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

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

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

Oh, right.

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

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

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

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

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

“Compromises aren’t—”

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

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

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

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

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

“Wh-”

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

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

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

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

And for a moment, it’s quiet.

Until a single name is screamed.

“SERGEANT!”

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

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

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

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

The van turns on.

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

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

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

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

T082-23

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

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

Well, shit.

So much for the month of no attacks.

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

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

But they also gave him an essential piece of information.

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

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

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

For now, he was waiting for you.

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

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

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

“Should we go?”

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

“I actually wanted to talk before we left.”

Oh?

“Of what, if I may ask?”

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

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

“Sure.”

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

The contract was then discussed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course, Kirishima.”

“Oh, and y/n?” 

“Yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kirishima stood in the softly lit hallways of a sauna.

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

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

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

Well, everyone but Kirishima, that was.

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

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

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

A stressful month had passed into a friendlier one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I-If that’s okay?”

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

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

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

“No, I’m okay,” you politely decline.

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

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

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

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

“So, what questions do you have?”

“Hm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A pause.

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

A nod.

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

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

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

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

What had happened?

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

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

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

“Was that um, Major—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wasn’t made of glass.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

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

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

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

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

“PERVERT!”

“What?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, his dreams were never like this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kirishima stepped back out to the hot spring.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jenny, are you okay?” you called.

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

“We weren’t fucking you prude!”

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

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

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

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

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

What was he going to do now?

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

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

Bad, Kirishima, bad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That sounds amazing, Kimiko!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whoever it was, pfft.

Kirishima was willing to bet on who it was already.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something.

Anything.

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

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

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

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

He was going to.

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

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

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

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

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

“Ready to move out?”

“We’re all clear.”

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

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

“Damn right I will.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Such a brat.”

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

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

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

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

T082-23.

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

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

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

You really came to life right now.

You were beautiful.

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

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

He was here.

Every warning bell sounded in Kirishima’s head.

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

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

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

Wait.

“What?! Family member?!”

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

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

There was no way you wouldn’t.

Was he wrong?

Who was it?

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

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

Oh fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

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

“...she’s drunk?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was a reason why you were considered a legend.

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

You smile.

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

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

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

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

How were they related?

What connected them?

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

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

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

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

Kirishima panted as he looked before him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was he ready?

Actually ready?

Save her, his past whispered.

Save her, his nightmares screamed.

Save her, his heart yelled.

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

BANG!

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tonight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you resisted and might have been harsher than needed.

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

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

But it was growing late.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frown. 

“Where will you be sleeping then?”

“My couch is just fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, I’ll be leaving—”

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

“Oh, sure!”

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

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

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

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

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

He was relaxed.

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

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

“Really?”

“One hundred percent.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” you grin against his mouth.

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

“No?” he repeats.

“No,” you confirm.

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

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

Menacing, promising, sending chilling shivers down your spine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What does the princess want?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Holy fuck, he could quickly kill you with that.

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

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

And thankfully, Kirishima allows it.

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

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

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

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

It feels like fire.

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

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

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

Slap!

“Hey!”

Slap!

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

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

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

More, you plead.

And he delivers. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who saved you?”

“E-Ei did,” you garble.

“Who’s fucking you?”

“E-Ei is!”

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

“Me! Fuck, me!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he didn’t.

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

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

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

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

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

“I think we do.”

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

[nat-20s]

8 for jmart?

#8- constantly cheacking their messages for words from the other

what else was I gonna do? here's some classic ol' season 3 pining babey

Hello Martin. This is Jon. I have gotten a new phone after losing my last one, please put in the new number.

It's a simple message. Straightforward, factual, and utilitarian. There is no reason that pressing send should make his heart race. There's especially no reason that the second he sends it off, he's tempted to lie on the deeply uncomfortable, likely bedbug infested motel mattress staring at his screen until he gets a response. Sure, he's sick of being overseas, and he's sick of being so isolated, and he's sick of running, but he's not...desperate for what little companionship can even be provided by words on a screen.

He does miss Martin, though. He misses Tim as well, but in a manner that's significantly more complex and knotted than the simple desire to be around him.

God, when did he start wanting to just be around Martin? He started being aware of that want when he was at Georgie's, but he has no idea when the want itself actually started. That was probably something he should examine. Technically speaking, that is something that he has time to examine, but he doesn't want to examine right now. Right now, he wants the comfort of perhaps one of the only people out there that doesn't want to kill him, or use him, or both.

Martin, whether through somehow sensing Jon's discontent from nearly 4000 miles away or, more likely, through a general dutifulness inherent to his character, only takes a few minutes to reply. Oh good! it'd been a little bit since hearing from you, we were somewhat worried. putting you in my contacts as we speak :)!

Saying that "we" were worried is almost certainly generous on Martin's part, but Jon feels no need to point that out. Instead he turns on his side and stares at the phone. He particularly focuses on the smiley face, ridiculously charmed by the fact that, despite everything, Martin hasn't lost his predilection for emojis. Two years ago, he would've rolled his eyes, maybe thought something snide about professionalism. It wouldn't have been fair, as Tim used to do the same thing and he thought nothing of it, but he wasn't fair back then. Now, he simply wonders if he can get away with sending one back.

Before he can respond, Martin sends another message. Are you actually alright? I realized I was kind of assuming that losing your phone was the only reason you were MIA, but is anything else going on?

Damn. He tends to forget how perceptive Martin can be. What, exactly, Martin had perceived in that first message, Jon couldn't be sure, but apparently there was something that tipped him off to the..eventful last week he'd had. He really, really doesn't feel like getting into all of that right now, especially not over text, so instead he replies a mostly truthful I'm fine.

Then, squinting at the screen and realizing that might come across as a dismissal, he adds, Well, other than trying not to contemplate the general sanitation practices of a motel that clearly hasn't updated it's decor since the 70s. I'm suspecting the sheets are much the same.

He doesn't know how Martin will react to the message. He can't see the face he'll make, won't know the tone of his voice. However, he likes to imagine that Martin will at least smile. Maybe he'll even give that breath of a laugh, the one that sometimes happens when Jon's being lightly acerbic and it's not directed at him. He doesn't know, but he does hope for it. Martin texts back Oof. Maybe sleep on top of the covers tonight, yeah?, and Jon thinks that he might have guessed Martin's reaction correctly.

Christ, who knew all it took was a combination of jetlag and threats to turn him into a sap. He needs to sleep. He really needs a deep, proper, uninterrupted sleep, one lasting a minimum of eight hours and ideally closer to fifteen. Checking the time, it would be a fairly reasonable time to sleep, especially with the early start he has tomorrow. He considers sending off a quick good night message, but then has the realization that as reasonable as it is for him to be asleep right now, it's just as unreasonable for Martin to be awake. Are you alright? Good lord, Martin, it's almost 4am over there. Did I wake you?

Barely 30 seconds pass before he gets back no, you're good!

A beat, then a follow up message. I've had a irregular sleep schedule since I was like 16. A lot of evening and night shifts had a lasting impact u know? Working at the institute made it a bit more consistent but it's still p rare that i sleep the same eight hours night to night.

Jon's starts to text back something sympathetic; he's had his own struggles with both in- and hyper- somnia, but his phone buzzes in his hand before he can finish it.

Sorry! That was uh probably more information than you wanted.

Well, that just won't do. Even if there wasn't a part of his brain that had recently started collecting facts about Martin like they were precious jewels instead of mostly mundane stories, he doesn't want Martin to think he can't talk to him about things outside of the standard bounds of coworkers. Not at all. We're friends, Martin, I enjoy learning about you.

His brain wants to catastrophize the second he presses send. For the first minute that Martin doesn't reply, he doesn't let it. After the second minute, he allows the minor worry to become more severe. Had it been too much? Were they friends? Jon certainly thought so, but what if Martin wasn't in the same boat? Their interactions had been entirely friendly for months now, but what if that was just Martin being polite? God, what if Martin still thought of Jon as his boss, nothing more?

Ten minutes. It takes ten minutes for Martin to finally respond, and Jon has almost called him four times to explain himself. Ten minutes, and the first response is only Oh!

Then: Cool

Well, that's not a "piss off and die", but it's not exactly comforting. Jon doesn't know how to reply, staring at the words on his screen and not entirely sure if he's fucked up or not. Fortunately, Martin's not done responding, and the next message is much, much better.

Hey uh. Feel free to say no I know it's getting late over there but. Im not getting back to sleep for the rest of the day and itd be nice to actually hear you. Would you be okay with a call?

Without a moment's hesitation, he texts back Yes!, exclamation and all, because he's become someone he barely recognizes. The phone rings just as immediately, and he feels his entire body relax at Martin's first "Hello?"

Things are difficult right now. Things have been difficult ever since the promotion that was a curse in disguise. The world is filled with monsters he barely understands. He wishes he was home despite the fact that he barely recognizes it, as filled with tension and strife as it is. There's so much to discuss, so many things they should be hammering out. But right now, the threats are not pressing. Right now, he can hear about the bad true crime documentary Martin half-watched before he got Jon's texts, and Jon can bitch about the three different "pip pip cheerio" comments he's gotten since coming over seas. Right now, and for the hour before Jon drifts off, breathing slow and deep, he can pretend that this is an ordinary phone call, in an ordinary world, between two people who simply miss each other an extraordinary amount.

#replies #elfgrunge #jonmartin #tma #jon sims #martin blackwood #fluff prompts #'this story has been told before' AND IT'LL BE TOLD AGAIN!!

[obsessive-ego]

Late night chats

Musical beetlejuice x reader

Beej chats with you when he knows you're not listening

Fluff, pining

It was a long rough week, you were absolutely exhausted, you could barely stand, your knees wobbled as you finally arrived home, everyday this week has been hell between work using you to cover everyone and do everything, and personal family drama you had to attend too, you were glad to finally be home, safe, quiet, where nothing was expected of you, you could finally recharge.

Kicking your shoes off and tossing your bag and jacket aside to deal with later.

As you shamble to your bedroom, eager to swap your work clothes to something less constricting, you tap away on your phone, ordering dinner, you were too tired to cook anyway.

In your bedroom, you were quick to ditch your uniform in replacement for an over sized shirt and a pair of pajama pants.

Removing your bra felt like a weight has been lifted, as you slip on your pajamas you felt 100 pounds lighter, you flop down on your bed, barely clinging to being awake, as you were about to doze off, your phone blares to life with its loud ringtone, you groan in frustration, you force your body to get up and dig for your phone in your pants pocket, you miss the call by a second, before you could check who it was it buzzes again, you nearly drop the phone, startled, you fumble with the gadget, quickly answering the call, assuming it was your incompetent coworkers needing a question asked.

"What are you wearing?~"

You frown, knowing that voice anywhere

"Beetlejuice-"

"Oh baby, you will be wearing me by the time I'm done with you~" he moans

You scowl at this joke, too tired to really deal with his sense of humor, yes the ghoul could easily make you laugh with their lewd jokes, but honestly you were so tired nothing else really mattered.

"What-"

"So we gonna hook up? Or are you standing me up?"

"What?"

"Y/n what day is it?"

You're silent for longer then youd like to admit, beetlejuice starts before you could respond

"Friday, movie night, so, let's hear that magic b word sweetheart~" he chimes in a sing song tone.

As tired as you were, I guess a chill movie night would be fine, if you doze off during you could survive the teasing, wouldnt be the first time.

"Hello? Sugar? I'm not hearing my name come from that pretty little mouth of yours~"

You snap back, guess you zoned out longer then you thought, you utter a quick sorry, and shuffle to the living room.

"Beetlejuice, beetlejuice, beetlejuice"

Your apartment goes dark, you sigh, the ghoul had a thing for making an entrance

"HONEY IM HOME" the ghoul shouts, within seconds you are hoisted up from behind in a tight bear hug, Beetlejuice's head resting on you shoulder "babes I missed ya, you're such a mean little thing forgetting about our movie night, or were you just playing hard to get~" he purrs that last part.

Clearly embarrassed you try your best to squirm out of your predicament, the demon only cackles at your actions

"Keep wiggling like that sugar and your gonna give me a-"

The ghoul was interrupted by a knocking at your door, his eyes light up, before you could get a word in, you are dragged along to the front door

"Its showtime"

...

It was amazing how you were still able to order take out with all the nonsense beetlejuice did to the delivery guys, but it just goes to show that it's all about money, and let's be honest, nobody is gonna believe them, yeah sure, a zombie looking guy took the pizza and then turned into a pile of snakes.

...

Movie night was the same as always, Beej successfully snuggling up close with an arm around your shoulder, ever since the change of seasons he found you no longer took the lead on getting up close and personal, meaning he had to take initiative, not that he minded, since regardless of the temperature, you didnt mind him cuddling up, which was nice, you were so warm to the touch, he adored it.

Movie night was always a blast with the demon, yes you've seen this horror films 100 times, but watching them with Beej always made them more lively, his enthusiasm was so contagious. But as much fun as the evening together was you were officially out of energy, you tired in vain to keep awake, last movie night you dozed off midway through you delt with merciless teasing for a week, but all your effort was for not as you felt yourself slip into dreamland.

"Alright Doll what's up next in our-" the demon finally noticed you were out, he frowns, yeah it was cute, and sexy when you fell asleep on him, but it was really becoming kind of a pain on how hard you worked and how much it drained you, breathers are delicate, and besides he wanted to spend some real legit alone time with you.

The demon snaps his fingers and the two of you reappear in your bedroom, you being tucked into your bed, beej floats up beside you in a lounging position.

The ghoul stares at you, watching you naturally settle into a deep sleep, once a few moments have past and beetlejuice was sure you were out cold, he leans back placing his hands behind his head and let's out a deep sigh.

"Ya know doll, the other week I was in the netherworld for business, bumped into an old pal, buddy was going on and on about this demon he was banging, and boy, the look on his face when I told him I was banging a hot little breather, man, fucker was jealous, I mean we arent technically banging, yet." He whispered

This was a habit of Bj's chatting to you when you were asleep, he didnt need to sleep, so this was a nice way to pass the time.

"I showed him that photo of us lyds took, ya know the one, you were sitting on the couch playing with you phone and I had my head on your lap? Yeah, I keep it in my wallet, hell, it's the only thing in there" he snickers

You mumble something unintelligible, Beej hums in response

"Of course not sugar, I dont keep condoms in there, i prefer to go raw, demons cant get breathers pregnant anyways, wink wink"

The ghoul sighs reclining back and putting his hands behind his head

"Ya know, while I was down there, I had to file some paperwork with my Mom, the bitch she is, was going on and on about how I need to stop screwing around with breathers, she just doesnt get me, you know how it is"

You grumble in response

"Oh, yeah I know I told ya a sandworm ate her, shes back, it's a long story" he huffs with a scowl.

"Yeah she was saying how theres no point of me tricking another breather for a green card to live again, and I should leave you alone, fuck her, ya know, I dont need to trick ya for a green card, i know you're head over heels for me babes, and once you finally admit you love me and we fuck around for a bit, then I'll pop the question." He trails off looking in your direction, your were laying on your side facing the demon, as if you were awake listening to his every word, the demon sighs, staring at you sleeping form, god slash satan  he had no idea what he did to deserve you, his sweet caring breather. He could always come back to you, you were all his, you just didnt know it yet, and that was fine, for now, soon he'll get you to confess your undying love.

"What would I do without our little chats" he sighs, his eyes fixated on you, a purple hue begins to creep into his hair, he sighs again

"The only time I can be honest with ya huh babes?"

You mumble in response

"Its not like I dont WANT to be honest with ya, its just, come on, you gonna believe me? A demon from hell falling head over heels for a sweet little breather? I can barely believe it" he stares at you, his hair now completely purple.

"You know I love ya right?" The confidence in his voice fading, the question sounding more desperate then anything, as if the ghoul needed you to know or hed die again.

"...beee" you sigh

Beetlejuice perks up at the sound of your voice "bee?" Were you dreaming of him? The ghoul could just melt at the thought

"...beetlejuice"

You were

The purple in the demon's hair began to mix with hints of pink, his little breather was dreaming of him, the ghoul leans into you, his face inches from yours, studying your face in hopes to crack the mystery of what kind of dream you were having

"...beetlejuice" Again you mumble his name in your sleep

"Do you dream about me often babes? Ya know I dream of you~" he chuckles

"Beetle-"

Before you could finish the b word the demon shakes you awake

"Fuck" you say with a start "beetlejuice what are you doing" you grumble less then thrilled to be woken like this

"You were about to say the b word 3 times babes, had to put a stop to it" he chuckles sheepishly "you were babbling my name away in your sleep, guess you missed me huh?" His nervousness turned into a more confident jab

"I was? I-" you babble

"If you REALLY miss me baby cakes I could slip into bed with ya? Keep ya company" he leans in inches from your face, a moment passes and beetlejuice can see the hesitation in your face, yes he's snuck into bed with you multiple times, but he always left before you noticed.

"I wont do anything creepy" he begs grasping your hand as if to reassure you

"....okay" you whisper

The ghoul's eyes light up at your response in a flash he sheds his suit, leaving only a pair of boxers and slides under the covers next to you, the ghoul is over come by the warmth beneath the covers, and quickly latches on to your even warmer body.

"Good night Bee" you sigh "I'll try not to say your name 3 times"

"Night sugar♡" he cuddles into your chest making you the bigger spoon, though you were the smaller out of the two of you.

As you drift back into a deep sleep beetlejuice begins talking to you again

"You really know how to spoil a guy huh sugar, I guess I can wait a little longer till you say the 3 little words, as long as ya keep treating me like this♡ good night y/n, I love you"

#musical beetlejuice x reader #beetlejuice x reader #muscial beetlejuice x reader #rambling

[fuck-customers]

a fuck coworkers

my store is a small one, only four of us plus the manager, although we need at least one more person. but of the four of us, the two guys do almost no work at all. one is much worse than the other though. while they both spend 90% or more of their shift )after the manager leaves) sitting in the backroom playing on their phones, the one guy will at least come out if the door buzzer goes off a lot to see how busy it is. the other guy does not budge. at all. for anything. no matter how busy it is i am stuck on till alone all night with no break and barely a chance to sit and rest because if there is no customers in the store, then i have to be facing and filling and checking over stock to keep the store looking decent. both because it makes it easier at the end of the night to try to not let it get too bad but all so because we have a theft problem and LP/head office gets pissed if we dont keep things faced because it's harder to tell if things have gone missing. there is at least one person stealing 60oz bottles of hard alcohol, which i dont even know how they are hiding bottles that big without being seen. but it seems to happen when its busy because there are blind spots i cant see from the till (and that is the aisle where things are missing from) but i can't leave the till to see whats up or ask people if they need help etc. and the guys will not leave the backroom to do that or to watch till. like i just really don't want to be the one getting in shit when LP ends up getting involved because they decide i wasn't doing enough even though i am the one doing EVERYTHING already. beyond that, it is just so fucking aggravating to be in physical pain at the end of every shift because someone has to make sure things are getting done while he just sits back there. and we both get paid the same wage. like how they still have jobs is beyond me. but its because the manager doesn't want to fire them because they show up to work reliably but why fucking bother having them when they do no work? if it's especially miserable in the store (busy, in pain, customers being endlessly rude and/or creepy) knowing they are back there doing not a god damn thing makes me want to scream (as does most aspects of the job but this makes it even worse). i just want to cry some days. this was just supposed to be a whatever job until i got something related to my education but it's taking longer than i thought and when i quit the liquor store originally to finish my degree i never thought i would have to be back here.

this isn't even a minimum work for minimum wage thing. this is a no work because i can take advantage of my coworkers and still get paid thing. there is only ever 2 of us on at a time. like i am so close to saying to the manager like i am not going to be rushing around stressing about getting stuff done because he wont do anything. if it doesn't get done it doesn't get done and you can talk to him about it. im so sick to death of doing the work of at least 2 people every fucking night. she knows the guys are awful but keeps telling the two of us who do the work to 'pick our battles' but everything is a battle and its brutally unfair to act like we are in the wrong for being upset. she will write them up and tell them off if things are really bad but they dont care and dont change because they know that she won't ever fire them. and i don't want them to be fired, i want them to do their share of the work.

from now on ill just have to say sorry i did everything i could with the time i had, if anything wasn't done take it up with the dickheads sitting in the back because they should have been working too. im not going to kill myself over this garbage job that barely pays my bills. but also i am terrified to not have the job and not be able to pay my bills so i am killing myself (and my knees and back and mental health) by being here and working hard.

the less lazy of the guys also isn't that impressed with the other guy but it's borderline hypocritical considering how little he does himself. however he's a nice guy and he did take the till when the one creepy regular came in. if only because he happened to come out to the front at the right time and recognize him from my description. certainly grateful for that.

[rae-arts777]

when brett finally asks reagan out (or the other way around!) :)

This is looooong I did both Brett and Reagan

Brett

Brett has been building up to this. He gotten some help from the gang. He wanted it to be perfect. It had to be perfect! Reagan deserved perfect!

He had this whole plan!!! Yes he made a plan. Again Reagan deserved perfection. He was going to make sure it was perfect.

He even made a time table.

Well…..let’s just say that did not go to plan at all.

It was ruined by them getting called out for a mission.

Brett begged “The gang Can handle it! Let’s enjoy ourselves! We deserve time off!”

“No!” Reagan told him “those idiots can’t handle this alone! Come on!”

Brett groaned following.

The mission was very chaotic as usual, Reagan was also getting annoyed with Brett, him at every moment being like “are we done?” “Hey the other Can handle it!!!” “I think our job is done!” “Hey if we leave now we can still make dinner!!!”

Reagan finally snapped at him “JESUS CHRIST BRETT WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM?!” 

“IM JUST!!!! Im trying to!!! UGH! It’s all ruined!!!”

The two started arguing

“WHAT RUINED?! What in gods name is more important then OUR FUCKING JOB?!”

“ITS PERSONAL!”

“God damnit!!! If you’re going to get caught up in morality and ethical BS NOT NOW!”

“OKAY YOU KNOW WHAT?! I busted my ass for weeks trying to make this perfect day for the two of us!!! And it’s all ruined cause of this mission!!!!”

“Perfect day???” Reagan asked confused.

Brett swallowed and turned away from her.

“Brett???? What perfect day???”

Brett sighed and pulled out the time table he made.

Reagan took it and looked at it.

6:30 pm: Pick up Reagan from her house

7:00: Dinner at Reagan favorite place

9:00 surprise Reagan with a night at the museum astro exhibit

10:30 back to Conginto to where we first met.

10:40 cause distract, get flowers and champagne ready.

10:50 ask Reagan out.

Reagan felt her face flush, and now, she feels like an asshole.

Brett sighed “forget it…it’s all ruined. Of course Brett tries to make a plan and it all goes to hell…”

“Brett…” Reagan sighed a bit “no one…no one has ever gone through so much effort like that for me…” she smiled “it’s sweet…”

“You’re just saying that…” Brett hugged his knees “it’s okay, just shoot already, reject me, I can handle it.”

“Brett”

“You are a perfectionist, you deserve perfection and….this is not the perfect way I wanted to ask you…”

Reagan grabbed his shoulders “Brett. Ask me.”

“What?”

“Ask me.” She smiled “please. I don’t care if it’s prefect or not. Plus, this seems a lot more natural then a list don’t you think?” She chuckled. “So ask me.”

“Reagan….do you….want to go out with me?”

“I love too.”

Reagan

“Tell that boy have you feel!!!” Gigi scolded Reagan “I swear! Watching you two walk around each other! It was cute at first, but now it makes me want to die.”

“I can’t just ask him..!” Reagan groaned “plus…I’m not even his type.”

Gigi smacked her over the head “GIRL. If you asked him to shave his head he do it! He likes you!”

“Oh please you know he do that if anyone asked cause he needs everyone to like him! Plus! That’s the problem! He says yes to everything! If I ask him out he’s going to think he has to say yes! I won’t be able to tell if it’s real or not…”

Gigi sighed and rubbed her shoulders “take this however you want. When I was drunk and tried to kiss him, he pushed me away and told me he didn’t want to betray someone he liked”

Reagan sighed

She let Gigi’s words set in. She headed out of her office, seeing Brett talking to some other coworkers. She watched as he work his charm. That goofy smile, the way he radiate such…good energy.

Brett made eye contact with her, flashing a smile.

Reagan felt her heart skip a beat, smiling back.

She saw as a female coworker grabbed Brett’s arm and started to talk to him. She felt…Jealous. Gigi’s words echo in her head, watching as Brett pulled away from woman, uncomfortably smiling.

Later that night Reagan was in her office over working. She couldn’t focus, she kept thinking of the woman over Brett. She started to think of more girls who probably fond over him. Hell Gigi said she even tried. Brett was perfect…of course everyone wanted a piece of him.

“Reagan!!!” Brett walked into her office with two cups of coffee “hey smarty pants.”

“Oh hey..” Reagan pulled away from her work.

“Coffee?” Brett handed her a cup. “Black just the way you like it”

“Heh thanks…” she took it, as Brett pulled up a chair and sat with her.

The two just sat there in silence, drinking their coffee. Brett nervously bounced his leg.

“You okay?” Reagan placed her hand on his leg “nervous about something?”

“Ahh!! You know me! Always worrying if anyone hates me!”

Reagan rolled her eyes and punched his arm “dumbass! Everyone loves you!”

“Owwwwww!!!” He whined “if everyone loves me, how come you hit me?” He laughed

“I’m not everyone.” She punched his arm again playfully laughing.

They laughed, they had place their coffee downs and started to playfully take jabs at each other.

Reagan got up and tried to holds his arms still. Brett laughed and got up too, getting his arms free and throwing Reagan over his shoulder.

“Brett!!!” She laughed and hit him “put me down!!!”

“Make me!!!” Brett swung her around but had a right hold on her.

He tripped over some stuff in her lab, making them both fall. They both screamed, Reagan tightening her grip on him.

Lucky Reagan’s robot assistance caught them and moved them both to the couch. The two still hanging on to each other.

Reagan realized she was on his lap, and turned red.

Brett cleared his throat and just laughed “hey..”

Reagan thought back to the woman who was over him earlier. She bit the bullet and grabbed his face, pulling him into a kiss.

Shock Brett was frozen in place, but slowly kisses back.

Reagan broke it and cleared her throat, both of them red.

“Brett….would you like to go to dinner sometime…? Just the two of us..?”

“Reagan….I really like that” he smiled.

#inside job #reagan ridley #Brett hand #reagan x brett

[cadavercowboy]

alright now that i'm home I can actually explain what heinous crime was committed against me this night 😭

a gorgeous man walks into the bookstore and looks out of place but baby knew EXACTLY what he wanted. but he still came right over to me and immediately was trying to be sweet and it was working asking me for help. and we got to talking and my god he's a demon i'm sure of it but I wanna gluck gluck so badly already. SO we were talking for a bit as I was helping

he made a comment about my eyes and i usually hate when men do that because they are always creepy about it but mr. broad shouldered pink shirt seemed genuine so i did my best to be cute. we got silent for a minute and he blurts out how good I smell and he was like "actually my aunt wears whatever perfume you're wearing" and I was like "oh I don't even know what I was wearing" and MICKY I swear this baby goes "well neither would I, I haven't seen her in 5 years. but you sure do know how to leave an impression. i love that smell and I miss being around it" and I was a little creeped out but he said it so sexy for no damn reason and I was like alright lemme flirt with this baby a lil so i giggled and said something about how he must have a good memory and he was LIKE well when you remember something sweet it's real hard to forget it

so after a little more cutesy stuff (my coworker was watching this whole thing a few feet away the whole time btw) THE COWORKER WHO I KEEP TURNING DOWN BECAUSE I DONT WANT TO GO OUT WITHOUT HIM stomps over to us and was like "so when you're done socializing i need you to do this because you seem so busy right now" and it got awkward and he planted himself right there and the poor boy like looked down and was like "alright, im being booted..." and then he used my name and thanked me and winked and left

NOT MR. BROAD SHOULDERED PINK SHIRT!!!!!!!! MIR YOU ARE LIVING THE DREAM....REAL LIFE FANFIC PLAYING OUT BEFORE OUR EYES. HE IS GOING TO COME BACK I CAN FEEL IT IN MY BONES.

WHEN YOU REMEMBER SOMETHING SWEET IT'S REAL HARD TO FORGET IT please my eyeballs just jumped out of my skull I cannot believe this I need to know what this man looks like how tall is he is he beefy what color is his hair what's his SSN where does he live when are you getting married GIVE ME EVERYRHHING MIR

#the way my mouth would have already been full of dick the second he used my name!!!!!!! #this is everything #i'm so mad at your coworker #he's BIG MAD that you don't want him i'm so rishfuebsuhabwudc #princess 👑 #ask micky