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burnedbyshoto · 3 years

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the bodyguard

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

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pairing: bodyguard!kirishima eijirou x idol!reader

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

word count: 20,500

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

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“I’ll be okay.”

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

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

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

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

What had he done?

What in the fucking world had he done?!

BOOM!

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

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

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

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

05:30.

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

Inhale.

Hold.

Exhale.

Better?

No, not yet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“W-Wha—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘Cause I’m a stalker, duh.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Kirishima-kun, are you okay?”

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

“Kirishima-kun?”

“Yo, he’s not looking too hot?”

“Kirishima?!”

“Can you hear us?!”

Silence.

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

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

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

He was okay.

“Kirishima?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

But he was obviously not the first choice still.

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

“Toshinori—”

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

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

He had barely passed the admittance test.

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

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

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

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

“I can do it.”

A smile.

“Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were tiny.

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

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

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

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

“Six months tops.”

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

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

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

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

“...no,” Kirishima answers truthfully.

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

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

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

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

Fuck, that one hurt.

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

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

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

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

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

“Six months,” Kirishima agreed.

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

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

“You got it.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, yes, let’s continue.”

So, the contract was discussed to full detail.

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

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

Or so the contract said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, so much for a good case.

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

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

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

You always managed to sneak away from him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ya, okay, bye!”

“By—”

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

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

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

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

He wanted to be just a fan.

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

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

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

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

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

“You know I can’t do that it’s not—”

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

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

And then there’s only silence.

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

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

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

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

He knew that.

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

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

You were a good person.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...how interesting.

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

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

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

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

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

“Very much.”

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

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

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

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

So much for change.

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

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

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

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

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

It had been a hard morning.

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

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

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

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

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

But today, Kirishima was exhausted.

Today, Kirishima wanted to sleep.

Today… Kirishima broke.

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

You ignore him.

“We’re leaving, now.”

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

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

He grabs your wrist and begins pulling you away.

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

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

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

Oh, right.

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

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

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

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

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

“Compromises aren’t—”

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

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

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

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

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

“Wh-”

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

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

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

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

And for a moment, it’s quiet.

Until a single name is screamed.

“SERGEANT!”

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

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

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

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

The van turns on.

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

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

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

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

T082-23

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

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

Well, shit.

So much for the month of no attacks.

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

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

But they also gave him an essential piece of information.

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

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

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

For now, he was waiting for you.

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

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

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

“Should we go?”

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

“I actually wanted to talk before we left.”

Oh?

“Of what, if I may ask?”

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

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

“Sure.”

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

The contract was then discussed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course, Kirishima.”

“Oh, and y/n?”

“Yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kirishima stood in the softly lit hallways of a sauna.

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

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

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

Well, everyone but Kirishima, that was.

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

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

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

A stressful month had passed into a friendlier one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I-If that’s okay?”

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

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

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

“No, I’m okay,” you politely decline.

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

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

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

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

“So, what questions do you have?”

“Hm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A pause.

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

A nod.

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

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

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

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

What had happened?

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

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

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

“Was that um, Major—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wasn’t made of glass.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

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

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

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

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

“PERVERT!”

“What?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, his dreams were never like this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kirishima stepped back out to the hot spring.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jenny, are you okay?” you called.

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

“We weren’t fucking you prude!”

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

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

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

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

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

What was he going to do now?

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

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

Bad, Kirishima, bad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That sounds amazing, Kimiko!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whoever it was, pfft.

Kirishima was willing to bet on who it was already.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something.

Anything.

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

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

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

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

He was going to.

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

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

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

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

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

“Ready to move out?”

“We’re all clear.”

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

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

“Damn right I will.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Such a brat.”

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

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

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

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

T082-23.

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

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

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

You really came to life right now.

You were beautiful.

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

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

He was here.

Every warning bell sounded in Kirishima’s head.

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

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

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

Wait.

“What?! Family member?!”

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

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

There was no way you wouldn’t.

Was he wrong?

Who was it?

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

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

Oh fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

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

“...she’s drunk?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was a reason why you were considered a legend.

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

You smile.

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

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

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

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

How were they related?

What connected them?

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

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

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

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

Kirishima panted as he looked before him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was he ready?

Actually ready?

Save her, his past whispered.

Save her, his nightmares screamed.

Save her, his heart yelled.

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

BANG!

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tonight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you resisted and might have been harsher than needed.

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

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

But it was growing late.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frown.

“Where will you be sleeping then?”

“My couch is just fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, I’ll be leaving—”

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

“Oh, sure!”

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

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

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

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

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

He was relaxed.

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

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

“Really?”

“One hundred percent.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” you grin against his mouth.

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

“No?” he repeats.

“No,” you confirm.

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

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

Menacing, promising, sending chilling shivers down your spine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What does the princess want?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Holy fuck, he could quickly kill you with that.

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

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

And thankfully, Kirishima allows it.

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

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

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

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

It feels like fire.

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

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

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

Slap!

“Hey!”

Slap!

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

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

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

More, you plead.

And he delivers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who saved you?”

“E-Ei did,” you garble.

“Who’s fucking you?”

“E-Ei is!”

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

“Me! Fuck, me!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he didn’t.

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

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

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

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

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

“I think we do.”

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

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wkemeup · 3 years

Note

for drabble night- which i am so excited for, by the way!! you're a marvelous writer and one of my top favorite bucky writers- my personal favorite trope is oblivious idiots to lovers (like the love is requited but they're just idiots)

dialogue prompt: “I’m too good for revenge.” “Well I’m not. Give me the gun.” - from anon pairing: bucky x reader word count: 1.4k warnings (provided by @jessalyn-jpeg): idiots to lovers, mutual pining, shouted love confessions, (and warnings from me ->) past torture, descriptions of blood, canon level violence, sorry I made this so dark??? a/n: guess who already broke the 1k rule!!! but hey I loved this one and Im a little sad it's a drabble and not a monster fic. it may not be idiots per say, but definitely two people who love each other who havent admitted it yet and are scared of what it means

A man withered on the ground at your feet, scrambling along the prodding edges of crumbled concrete. Crawling as blood streaked in his wake. This man – this monster – you'd been chasing for weeks was reduced to a helpless, crying mess as you towered over him. His hands shook as they shielded his face, tears streaking over his cheeks. This time, you held the power. You held the leverage. He wasn’t so scary without the table of surgical tools at his disposal – your blood stained upon his hands and a maniacal grin upon his lips.

You didn’t know his name. He was only ever ‘the Doctor’ when you spoke of him in your head. You’d only uttered the phrase once since the team rescued you from his basement two months ago and even then, it had tasted of venom. He haunted you in your sleep, followed you in the shadows of every room, drew screams as he pleased even when he could no longer touch you. Safety was not a luxury you could afford – not after what he’d done to you.

Bucky was your only reprieve. A broken man who had found the pieces of himself again – who had offered pieces of himself to you to soothe the mess you’d become with gauze and tape. It was his arms you woke in when your throat was burning raw, his voice lulling you back to sleep, his hands that had taught you peace again.

Bucky saved what his man destroyed.

“P-please,” the Doctor begged, his trembling hands reaching out for the toe of your boot – like a peasant before a king. You flinched before he could touch you. His back pressed against the wall. There was nowhere else for him to go. You flexed the gun at the end of your grip.

“You ruined me,” you spat, barely able to taste the words as they left your tongue. They did not sound like your own. “You expect me to grant you mercy?”

It only made the man sob harder. He was struggling to breathe – hyperventilating between sobs as his hands curled tight against his chest. Pathetic. Weak. Certainly not the type of man who could orchestrate the kidnapping of an avenger without help. He was sick and twisted and evil down to his bones, but he was not the mastermind behind your abduction. He was the executioner.

“D-don’t kill me,” he whimpered, bowing his forehead to the ground. “Y-you’re an Avenger. You wouldn’t.”

You had every intent to put a bullet through this man’s chest the moment you laid eyes on him again. You’d expected to be afraid, to see the surgical mask over his mouth and the cold, dead look in his eyes. You’d expected him to lunge at you with the scalpel and add to the array of scars he’d drawn upon your body. You’d expected violence from the psychopath you knew him to be.

Instead – you found this trembling, frail man who could not manage the courage to meet your eye. It was only when you were chained and drugged that he felt powerful enough to torture an Avenger. You were disappointed.

“You’re not worth my soul.” Tears welled into your eyes as you stared down the monster who had taken residency within your nightmares. “I’m too good for revenge.”

“Well, I’m not,” Bucky’s voice growled from the edge of the room. He stalked across the floor of the basement, his boots stepping over the stain of dried blood you’d left behind months earlier. His expression was cold, unemotive. The plates of his left arm whirled as he clenched his fist. “Give me the gun.”

Bucky’s hand slid over yours, the gun falling slack in your hand. You parted your lips to tell him that justice was due, that there was still more at play than just the sick mind of the man crumbled at your feet. But the safety was already unlatched and Bucky unloaded the weapon into the Doctor. Blood trailed through the cracks in the floor until they touched your boots. The echo burned into your eardrums.

You gaped, stumbling a few steps back before Bucky could slide the gun back into the holster on your hip. He raised an eyebrow, concerned, but you couldn’t find any air inside your chest. Your gaze flickered back to the Doctor as his body slumped down the wall, sinking into the pool of his own blood. It would stain into the rock amongst your own.

Your stunned stare returned to Bucky as he gently reached a hand towards you. You slapped it away. “Why-- What did you—Why would you do that?”

Bucky stilled, his eyes narrowing. He retracted his hand, genuine confusion upon his features. “Are you serious?”

“We could have brought him in, Bucky!” You threw your arms in the air, pacing over the red stain at the center of the room. “We could have interrogated him! You saw him – he clearly isn’t working alone!”

“We don’t need him, Y/n, we can—”

“He’s a pawn! He deserves a hell of a lot worse than death but we needed him, Bucky!”

“No,” Bucky snapped. His face was growing red, his jaw clenching so tightly the muscle flexed beneath his stubble. “No — that monster should have been shot on sight! I don’t give a shit what he could have been useful for! He got what he deserved!”

“Dammit, Bucky! We’re right back where we started.” You pressed your hands to your eyes. Tears wiped at the edges of your palms – angry, frustrated tears. Helpless tears. A lump burned so terribly in your throat, you thought it might choke you.

“We’re not,” Bucky eased, trying to calm you though his own breathing was labored. “We killed the bastard who took you, Y/n. He’s dead now. He can’t hurt you again. It's a hell of a lot more than we had yesterday.”

“Not when the guy who’s making the calls is still out there!” you cried, shoving away his efforts to reach you, though he kept trying. “We were so close, Bucky! He would have talked!”

“You don’t know that! He could have been manipulating you!"

“He would have rolled over in a second!” you roared, fire and fury and agony coursing through your veins. “And you just—you threw that all away for—what? For revenge?!”

“For you!”

The moment the words left Bucky’s lips he held his breath. His boots carried him several steps back, putting space between you as if it might draw the words back from the air before they could touch you. The anger drained from your body, washing away in a matter of seconds. Bucky exhaled a tensed breath.

“I did it... for you,” Bucky repeated slowly, his voice dangerously quiet. “I couldn’t stand the idea of that monster living another second after what he did to you.”

You swallowed, though your throat was aired dry.

“I can hear you cry at night,” he confessed and your heart clenched. Slowly, Bucky lifted his gaze to you, blue eyes startling through the wash of tears. “I know what he did to you, Y/n. You don’t have to tell me, because I know. I know what it’s like to be stripped of your power, to be helpless. I know what that does to a person. You... You never should have had to know what that feels like, too. It would have lingered over your head, Y/n -- to have that monster in the compound with us. It would have driven you mad. So I did what I had to do. I won’t apologize for that.”

You stared at Bucky, lips parted. “Fury will be pissed.”

You didn’t know why you said that. Perhaps because you were too afraid of what Bucky was really saying – the meaning behind his actions. Why it tortured him to allow this man to live after what he did to you.

Bucky chuckled dryly. “Yeah, I suppose he will.”

Quietly, you inched closer to him, stepping over the wet bloods of crimson as it slithered along the floor. Your arms wrapped around his waist, your head pressing to his chest. Bucky stilled for a moment, surprised, before his arms folded around you. It was warm in his embrace, safe. You listened to the gentle thumping of his heart as a hand circled sweetly over your spine.

And then, so quietly you knew only his advanced hearing could pick up, you muttered, “thank you,” against his chest.

this is your reminder that on drabble night I'm barely reading this over after I write it instead of taking weeks to edit and draft and redraft lol so if there's mistakes or the quality is not on par, that is why

#drabble night #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes drabble

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kashimos-hajime · 3 years

Text

no regrets (8/8) | r.b.

summary: For the first time, he thinks of a future he could have, and someone who loves him, and there’s something bright in his heart. Or, Reiner finally understands what peace is.

WARNINGS: MANGA SPOILERS!!! angst, mentions of violence, we get our happy ending :) pairing: reiner braun x fem!reader word count: 6.7k

a/n: welcome to the last chapter!! thank you so much for being on this journey with me. there are a few callbacks to previous chapters so see if you can catch ‘em all heheh

masterlist

crossposted on ao3 x

Few months ago ymir asked if I could let her write one last letter to krista, and I did let her. I stood over her shoulder the whole time, watching her pen down all this sappy shit and I kept thinking about you the whole time, behind those walls. What you were doing, what you were thinking. Maybe if you thought about me. I dont know.

I’m starting to see the appeal of wrting what youre not strong enough to say to a persons face. I never thought Id find myself on the other end of this stick. for some reason, I thought that I could stop myself, resist the temptation, or maybe that I didnt feel for you as strong as I thought I did once I was away from you. I was wrong.

What do I even say? I mean shit, I can barely see, my limbs are barely in tact, and all of it—shiganshina, it haunts me, even though I cant really remember it that well. Half of it goes black and then I remember hearing your voice, I remember Bertholdt, I remember you screaming.

You couldve walked away. why didnt you walk away? It doesn’t make sens. Why did you think to cut me out? Why did you try to save me? Im trying to make it make sense inmy head. It’s not working.

Fuck I dont know what I was thinking when I asked for a paper and pen. Why am I asking you questions? Its not like ill ever understand. At this point, I think it’s pity thats letting Zeke let me waste ink on trying to write straight. He doesn’t know what im doing, but thats better this way. Better than sleeping—better than eating. I just wanna talk to you and this is as close as I can get. Its my own damn fault, but I dont care.

I completed my mission. After this, im done. ill give up the rest of my term. I dont want any of that glory anymore. I dont want to be a hero. Im just done.

Fuck, my head hurts so much. I dont really know if what im saying is making sense. Im hoping you never read this.

im sorry. I wish I could explain it to you some day, but chances are, ill be dead soon. Whether for treason or because they need to pass on the Titan, and I wont be able to see you again. Which means youll never know how sorry I am. How much I

Thats okay. I dont think youd believe me now even if I did say anything.

I remember your dream to live by the lake with a bunch of kids. You know I started to wonder if youd mind if they were our kids, not just some orphans who needed a home. I’d imagine one of them with blond hair. Imagine them swimming in the lake.

Never told you that was my dream too. Never knew i could have a dream of my own, something only I wanted and not just something to further marleys damn agenda, til I knew you. Sounds stupid but its true.

I think youd like Marley, if we weren’t sworn enemies. Just want you here with me right now. make me sleep easier knowing you’re there when I wake up.

Dont want secrets either. Fuck I miss you so bad. I feel s o tired all the time.

I rember when i first saw you all could think about was how you were the most prettiest girl id ever seen. I don know if you know thats why I tried to distance myself. Knew I couldn’t get distracted from my mison. happened anyway. Wish I could tell you that.

wish I could tell you I love you. Wish I could see the look on yur face when you try lobster for the first time. Youd love it. Not sweet, but tons of desserts here too.

Shit. And the ring on your finger. ill put a ring on your finger. I promised. i swear ill go home and buy a ring for the moment I see you again. Might not be pretty but will do the best I can.

Olnly wnat only wnat only want to see you again and beg for your forgiveness. Let you know if I had a choice, I wouldnt have done it. Would take it all back, nd stay. i wanted to stay, stay with you and the others. I used to want to spend the rest of my life in those walls, now I think im sick and tired of them dividing people who arent even that differnet.

My eyes are beginning to burn. Worse because the skin is sitll growing back. Fucking hell god I miss you. miss your smile more.

I know i dont deserve your forigvneess forgiveness. I want you to be angry with me. I deserve as much, and I cant ask you to, but

With love,

Rienr

You fold the letter, eyes closing as your fingers trace where the ink bled, the old tear stains wrinkling the paper beyond measure. Some are older than others, and you trace over his name again, your eyes burning, your throat tight enough to suffocate.

You’re leaning against the wall as everyone disembarks. They had taken Eren off first, Hange and the others getting ready to depart for the city while Connie and Jean lift a covered stretcher too white for the vivacious girl that lays dead beneath it.

They pass you silently, and you catch sight of a certain captain approaching, his pale eyes nearly swallowed by the shadows haunting his face.

“Captain,” you say, straightening. Placing the letter back into the tin, you slide it back into your pocket as he folds a green jacket over his shoulder. You give him a nod.

“You made it out alive,” Levi observes. He stops beside you, eyes more focused on what’s ahead. No doubt he’s not looking forward to having to take Zeke to wherever he needs to go—somewhere far, far away from Eren. You cross your arms.

“It’s good to see you, too, Levi,” you intone. Sighing, you step in beside him and look out at the Walls you can’t see in the distance, your entire body wrought with a strange fatigue that’s only sewn into muscles by adrenaline leaving the body. “I think I’m going to stay.” He tilts his head to you, eyes flickering to your face, and you mirror the shift, your arms tightening. “I can’t leave this unfinished. Not after Liberio.”

“The farm will have to be abandoned,” he points out. “The kids, too.”

“I’ll make sure I move them where someone can take care of them. Somewhere north, far away from the brothers,” you assure, although still, your heart begins to sink and you close your eyes, exhaling deeply. “I have to hope they understand.”

Levi only nods, and you open your eyes as he wordlessly takes the jacket off his arm and offers it to you. Grasping it wearily, you open your mouth to ask questions but he only sets off, back towards the cabin where Zeke is still being held, and you snap your jaws shut, looking down at the jacket.

When you unfold it, you swallow the hard rock in your throat at the blue and white slipping beween the folds of olive green before there’s a sharp whistle. Looking up, you see the carriages already beginning to load up, and you glance back at the door where the captain has disappeared through before jogging down the ramp.

You slither your arms through the sleeves and shuffle the fabric along your frame as something thumps against your thigh, and you frown, reaching down into your pocket and coming into contact with something smooth and hard.

Withdrawing, your lips part at the green bolo tie gleaming in the lights of the port and you, without another thought, pull it over your head, letting it fall against your breastbone.

“For your services to the Survey Corps.”

There’s no time to second-guess now. No time to debate.

“Good to have you back,” Hange murmurs as you walk towards the carriage taking Mikasa, Armin, and the others back to the city. You tug the lapels of the jacket tighter around yourself and flash them a weak smile.

The Wings of Freedom on your arm feel like a brand, and it prickles your skin as you climb in after them.

Distantly, he remembers flashes.

Eren reaching forward for Zeke, the exhaustion ripping him every which way, the sound of ODM gear whizzing in his ears as he tries to make sense of the punctured sensation in his armour.

How he had softened his nape, intending to die then. At least, let his death have some meaning, he had thought. Let him make one last effort to repent for everything he did to Paradis, and to his friends who’d been more family than his own mother.

He slips in an out of consciousness for the next few days. He doesn’t know what is up, what is down, but he does recognize his surroundings blearily, the way his head spinning somehow slowing when he presses his temple to the wooden floor.

How can he almost hear your voice in the echoes of the panels, countered by someone who almost sounds like Annie before he drifts off again.

When Reiner finally regains consciousness again, he wakes to someone crouched down in front of him. Jerking up, he lets out a sound before a palm slaps over his mouth and your face is shoved against his own.

“Shut it,” you whisper fiercely. “It’s just me.”

Your name muffled by your own hand, his eyes begin to burn and you lift your palm away as he sits up and you draw back. You’re dressed in clothes that look like they’ve seen better days but you’re relatively uninjured as you pull back. New lines adorn your face—one of the many prices of their damned war—and you only look exhausted.

Sitting up, Reiner’s whole body groans as he leans against the wall, but he can’t tear his eyes away from you. Your hands are hovering around his body like you’re scared he’ll collapse and there’s a fracture in your mask.

Something gleams on your finger and his eyes flit to it, his heart lurching when he realizes what it is.

The ring. You’re wearing it. You…

For a moment, a glimmer of their teenage selves shine through and he wants to reach for it—touch it so he can remember what it’s like to be happy. He thinks it’s an awful like now; the swelling of his heart so big he can’t breathe; the way his lungs are static in his chest; how he can’t say anything because there are so many words that want to come out first.

“You’re here. You’re alive,” he finally settles on raspily. Your eyes glint with a youthful pain as you nod.

“So are you.”

And he doesn’t know who moves first—you or him. Nothing is forgiven as their bodies crash in an embrace that lacks grace, but they cling onto another like the world is ending and they’re the only ones left standing.

Maybe they are.

He buries his face in your neck, and your arms are so tight around him your fingers dig into his shoulders as your body melts against his and his skeleton sags in his own body.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against your skin, eyes fluttering shut. “I‘m sorry.” A hand against your neck and an arm around your waist, he wraps his legs around your own and traps you against him. You seem to only sink into him even more.

Is that enough? I don’t want you to hate me.

You suck in a breath, and then it comes out shuddering. “You can spend the rest of what life you have left repenting for making me fall in love with a man who was always supposed to die.”

Softly, in his mind, your voice cools the searing heat of hatred inside him. It’s enough. It has to be.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. It’s like they’re the only words he knows. He can’t remember ever meaning it this much. For him dying, for making you love him, for ever coming to Paradis. For loving you. For loving you. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know. I know.” Your face turns to press against his own. Your lips brush against his jaw and his eyes slide shut, tears rolling down his face. “I read every single one of your letters.” Drawing back, you cup his face in his hands and your fingers smear his tears all over his cheeks as his palm rests against your neck. Thumb stretching up to touch your chin, he feels sobs shuddering in his throat at seeing you again—looking at him almost like you used to. “I can’t begin to understand, but I know you are. And I know you love me.”

Choking, he gasps, “You should hate me.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I should.” You’re crying, too, voice thick, tears stubborn on your cheeks as you give him a watery smile. “I should hate Marley, too. But it’s beautiful there. The water by the sea… I want to be there with you next time. We need to go together, before you leave me alone, okay?”

Reiner doesn’t quite hear you. He hears Marley, and beautiful, and he’s never noticed how beautiful you are when you cry, but right now, it’s the simplest truth he knows.

“Okay.”

When you tilt his chin up and kiss him softly, something inside him explodes from the gentleness that makes him want to crack in the palm of your hands. It sears him from the inside out, makes him grab onto you like you’ll disappear—this is another dream, isn’t it?

It has to be.

You can’t be kissing him again after four years. He doesn’t deserve it. You’re an illusion, something his mind made up to deal with the pain. He’s finally cracked for good, just like Bertholdt said he would, and he’s the devil, not you.

But then you pull away just for a moment to smile, eyes barely open as you look at him with a sad tenderness that wraps him in an invisible embrace, and he is faced with the heart-wrenching reality.

The sky is falling, you are holding him tightly again, and they’ve lost their years. But you’re here. With him.

He knows that this isn’t a dream as he feels the coolness of the silver band on your finger and the heaviness in how he knows he hasn’t repented a damn thing.

Why him?

As you run your hand through his hair, you press their foreheads together.

“And I do want a family with you, by the water if you’d like,” you murmur fleetingly against his mouth and his eyes widen, cheeks burning, entire face crumbling as he turns his face in to your shoulder, crushing you in another brace. Sobbing into your neck, his fingers dig into your shoulders, wrap tight around your waist, squeeze you so close he isn’t sure where you end and he begins and your lips brush the shell of his ear. “Reiner, say it.”

“Please,” he whispers thickly into your skin, and you cradle the back of his head with a hand. He’s nothing more than shambles. “Please, don’t go.”

“I’m not letting you out of my sight again,” you promise. His breath is hot against his own face as you pull his head back and cradle his face again, thumbs brushing away the tears from his red face. “Just a bit more. A bit more and then it’ll be all over, you know?”

And he understands, then, what you want from him. Struggling for breath, for his lungs to stop seizing in his aching chest, he cups your face that turns into his palm on instinct, your face wet with your own tears as, for a moment, they try to pretend this isn’t where they really are.

Like they’re still in that afternoon in Trost, a thousand years ago, with the kids flipping coins into the water fountain and a cream bun between them. Like they’re under the tree, apple juice on your wrist and his lips on yours.

Like it’s those trips to the city, the walks on the Walls. Honey is dripping down your chin and he’s pretending he doesn’t want to kiss you, or there’s grease smeared on his forehead, and you’re reaching up to wipe it off his skin.

Like a thousand moments all at once, and he nods to himself as you brush your hand over his temple. The world outside is startlingly quiet, as if the universe itself stopped everything itself to watch this moment, and Reiner takes a breath that bruises his sternum before he’s holding your left hand where that ring still sits.

And slowly, he pulls it off, whispering as firmly as he can. He’s sure he fails—he’s shaking all over from your presence alone.

“When this is over, I’ll put that ring back on your finger. I promise.”

The smile that splits your face is dazzling. It’s the smile he’s missed since the day he left it.

“We have a lot of things to work out, Reiner Braun.”

And your fingers barely brush his jaw before you’re leaning to press a sweet kiss against his mouth. It’s sugary on his tongue, like honey and apple slices.

Your back is warmer when you’re pressed up against Reiner’s. The ship is quiet, and their pinkies are just barely hooked on oen another’s as you stare blankly at the empty space between Connie’s boots. You don’t speak, and Reiner’s gaze is only on you. He can’t look at anything else now that you’re back by his side again.

There’s a cut on your cheek from the fight just half an hour ago, and there’s dried blood along your hands where your knuckles had split open, but everyone seems too exhausted to clean themselves up.

Reiner himself has a blanket pulled over his shoulders, and he sighs, slouching in his own sack of flesh.

Your head tilts towards him, enough that your temple presses against his cheek. His eyes close and he leans into your touch. Not a word passes by, but their hold on each other’s hands tightens. And Reiner thinks.

For the first time, he thinks of a future he could have, and someone who loves him, and there’s something bright in his heart. Something that hasn’t burned since he left Marley as a child.

Reiner thinks he doesn’t want to die anymore. He doesn’t want to miss you for another moment.

Raising from the steam, you groan, your hands searing from the inside out as you touch your face where you swore every inch of your skin had been stretched, but nothing seems out of sorts as you glance around. Everywhere, all your friends who had turned just as you had are in various states of disoriented. The air is still hissing, crackled with surprised screams and shouts of names as people look for one another across the field.

It smells like cooked meat and burnt hair, a none-to-pleasant mixture that turns your stomach.

Getting to your feet, you wipe at your face, trying to ignore the weird feeling underneath your nails and the ache seizing your muscles. Trying to ignore the remnants of Eren lingering like a ghost that won’t really leave you alone. You shiver, and a strange cold sweat takes over your body.

He had taken you to the sea, except it wasn’t the shore you were familiar with. There was a cabin nearby, with blonde children running, chasing after one another and a man with golden hair standing on the porch, firewood in his arms as he calls out silently. Or maybe you had been standing too far to hear.

“Eren… where are we?”

“Wherever you think you are,” he had said. “I just brought you where you wanted to be.”

A voice, quiet as a memory, catches your attention. “Here let me help.” A soft wind blows throw the mist, cooling your scorching face as you feel a presence stand behind you.

“Oh, thank you.” You look over your shoulder to see a tall boy, and your heart stops. Mouth dropping open, you stare at his foggy image, but he only smiles fully, a smile so tender it reaches every corner of you as you stumble forward, fingers stretching for him. “Bertholdt!”

His smile grows only that much more, eyes squinting a bit and a flash of teeth before he’s looking at your hand that passes through his chest. All at once, all the hope built up in your chest crumbles, and your hand snaps back, trembling just before him. He lays a hand over your own and your eyes begin to burn, tears slipping down your cheeks.

And then, softly, you barely whisper, “I miss you.”

Bertholdt’s smile merely grows, as if to say everything he couldn’t say before. As if to show he’s at peace now—that your last memory together isn’t every part of him, and your lips press together, trying to stop yourself from shaking.

Shadows form in the fog, and together, the two look as a freckled boy and another girl steps out of the mist a distance away, beaming like the sun. Connie and Jean stagger to their feet just behind you, and your heart lurches into your throat when you recognize them.

“Marco! Sasha!”

Someone calls your name and you turn around just as arms scoop you up and you let out a surprised noise before settling into Reiner’s arms. Looking over your shoulder to look at Bertholdt, your heart only sinks.

He smiles and Reiner lets out a sharp breath beside you, settling you down. “Bertholdt…” More shapes emerge. A shorter boy accompanied by another taller one, both alike in their features. You recognize one as the Jaw Titan holder before Falco, but the other—

“Marcel!” Reiner chokes out the name, hand stretching out to the fog, but the boy merely tilts his head and waves.

Closing your eyes, hot tears streak over your cooling flesh as you fling your arms around Reiner again and press your face into his neck. He cradles the back of your head, and he feels… somehow weaker, but still, there is that impassable strength in his core that wraps around you as he watches over your shoulder, still clinging on despite your clothes hot enough to burn.

I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive. It’s the only thought in your head. Your last clear memory had truly been the others taking flight, and the pain that had ripped apart your body before sewing it back together again in unjust proportions. Your limbs had been too big, your blood racing too warmly through your head as your legs pumped but your brain screamed to stop.

Your fingers had sank into Reiner’s legs to pull him down and you had watched—watched Jean take a bite out of him—

You shiver and Reiner’s arms tighten around you instinctively, constricting enough to let you know that his attention isn’t on you quite yet.

Boots shifting on the ground tentatively, your knees feel gummy as you draw back long enough to look at him. He still looks over your shoulder, and you follow his gaze to watch the mist retreat. Bertholdt and the other two boys fall into a pool of fog, and your lips part in a farewell, but it’s already too late.

He’s gone.

A wind sweeps through the battlefield, tickling your sweating neck and cooling your boiling blood.

“Hey,” a soft voice croaks.

Their eyes meet in tandem. He regards you softly, like you are the reason the sun rises and the stars hang at the sky. Overwhelmed, you can only cup the back of his neck and pull him into a deep kiss. Your other hand along his jaw, it takes all you can not to pull him into a bone-crushing embrace that’ll send them both to the ground.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you whisper hushedly against his mouth, throat swelling as he lets out a soft noise of surprise as you pull him into another tight hug. You don’t care that you’re crushing him, just that his heart is pounding against your own chest. “I couldn’t stop myself. I’m so sorry.”

His eyes widening, he wraps his hands around your wrists and pulling you back just enough to kiss your fingers that crumple against his mouth. Clasping one of his hands in both of your own, you close your eyes and he uses his free fingers to brush the tears off your cheek before reaching into some dented tin you don’t recognize.

Eyebrows furrowing, you feel the heat leave your entire body, sapping your energy too, and your eyes snap to Reiner who steps back, cracking it open and presenting it to you.

“You’re not the one who has to be sorry. I don’t think I’m the Armoured Titan anymore,” he whispers. “I don’t know if I get the rest of my life back, but either way, I want to spend the rest of it repenting to you in any way I can, if you’ll allow me to.” A weak smile. “Truth.”

Your throat closes up, and you stare down at the ring so protected, gleaming despite the destruction around them. It looks almost out of place amongst the grime smearing your skin, the sweat drenching their skin, the smell of blood and metal clinging to their clothes, but Reiner only watches you with a tenderness you can barely meet. It’s so overtly overflowing with devotion that your heart is resting on your tongue, seizing control of everything.

You barely nod, chewing on your lip, trying not to cry even harder as his eyebrows rise in relief and he lets out a long sigh.

He lifts the ring out of the tin, snapping it closed before sliding the band back home onto your finger and all at once, everything floods you. The exhaustion, the pain, the hunger, thirst, grief wrapping around your bones and chaining you to the ground.

It’s over.

The minute he put the ring on your finger, it would mean it was over. No more blood, no more fighting.

Just like he promised.

You barely croak out his name before you fall to your knees. You trust him to catch you, and he does.

[THREE YEARS LATER]

Just after the Rumbling had stopped, you had gone back to Paradis alone and came back with three children to a man who was still uncertain in a world that was changing.

Since then, you’ve learned so much about the world, about yourself, about Reiner.

How he’s seized by night terrors even now, just like you, and how one thing that soothes it is going out for a walk while the sun still simmers below the horizon, the sky a dark navy blue spliced with orange rays. The intricate details like him making a point to tie his own tie because his father never taught him how or the way he has to chug his coffee so he has enough energy to get through the day.

And some days are horrible, haunting, but now, it is far outweighed by the good. He teaches Xav how to dress smart, takes the girls out shopping. Sometimes, he’s spotted around Liberio with a flame-haired boy riding his shoulders, you trailing behind hiding a smile behind some ice-cream.

Different nations, foods, cultures surround you now—citizens of countries coming to settle down roots, spread cuisine to Marley. The idea before, of humans so different than you but still similar at the root of it all, existing, still blows your mind. The technologies that you had never seen before, languages you’d never heard, sights you’d never seen, had all swarmed you as you stepped into a new world with him.

But there is always one thing you’ll come back to.

Leaning against the railing in the port city Reiner told you was the harbour he had left twelve years ago, and returned to seven years ago, you watch the clouds travel in slow drags across the pale blue canvas hung high above your head. The water spans for as far as you can see, glimmering under the sun and gorgeous enough to take your breath away. You pull at your coat across your chest absently, ignoring the tender growl of your stomach.

Breathing in the salty wind, you feel your chest expand at the litle fishing boats a little ways out.

Reiner was right. You don’t get sick of the sea. You never will—not of this much water. You still remember the first time you had swam in it, the salt-water making your hair crisp, the cold sweat forming on your your sun-warmed skin.

You feel a hand on your shoulder. Looking up, you spot blonde hair and warm eyes and smile. Your heart flutters a bit. You shift on your feet.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Reiner leans down beside you, and you clasp your hands, letting the sea wind curl against your neck. Reaching to slip his hand in between yours, he sighs and you lean against his shoulder, glancing at their pile of interlaced fingers. “Are you okay?”

“Of course,” you whisper, although even still, you can feel a numbing at your fingertips. You remember what it was like to be a Titan, even now. The sensations haunt you—flashes of your own mutated body, the grotesque meat of your hands sinking into the ankles of the man beside you, the bloodcurdling roar spilling out of your throat.

Glancing at their fingers, you watch the flashes of silver of the rings play in the sunlight, your band now having a matching counterpart on his own hand. You grasp his hands tightly, bringing them up to your lips and his own grip tightens when you dust a kiss gently along his scarred knuckles.

“No,” you finally say at length. “I’m not okay. Going back to Paradis makes me nervous as hell, but we’ll manage.” He nods slowly, and you let go of his hands to wrap your arms around his neck. His own encircle your waist, pulling you flush against him and your eyes close at the familiar warmth—a warmth you’ve woken up next to most days for the past three years.

“Have you eaten yet?” he murmurs, and your fingers play with the soft edges teasing at your pads as his nose presses against your cheek. Your eyes flutter at the soft heat emanating from his skin, and you shake your head, melting against him. With one arm still around you, he slants his body away from just enough to pull a bag out of his pocket and it crinkles as he hands it to you. Taking it, you frown and look inside.

A cream bun. You can’t help the crumbling in your expression and Reiner holds your face in his hands carefully, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“Let’s stay positive,” he whispers. “We don’t know the situation until we get there and Historia briefs us.”

“I know,” you whisper and his entire expression eases at your words. His eyes gaze at you as if you’re the sole centre of his universe, and he cups your jaw more insistently, pulling you in for a gentle kiss, one you ease into, your eyes fluttering shut as his tongue traces the seam of your mouth. Laughing, you feel his little nose scrunch and your heart bounds up into your throat as he pulls back only to kiss you again, softer this time.

“Get a room!” A sharp female voice ruins their moment and you pull back just enough to see a red-headed boy running towards them and Reiner crouches down just in time to scoop Xavier up.

“When are you getting married?” he demands. “I was promised cake when you guys got married.”

“I dunno. When you move out of the house I guess,” you tease and Xavier pouts, rubbing at the side of his nose with the heel of his palm.

“Besides, you got cake for your seventh birthday, buddy,” Reiner groans as the boy twists in his arms. “You’re getting heavy. What are you feeding him?” he adds, smiling roguishly at you and you roll your eyes as Alina and Anya approach, sun hats protecting them from the glaring sun. Alina, grocery bags in hand, waves. Anya, who’d been the one to shout, tucks her coin purse back into her bag before flashing you a great big smile.

Only fifteen and seventeen. You can barely recall what it’s like being that young anymore, but you’re grateful they didn’t spend it the way you did. They get to know beauty, and no limits at all. The former comes naturally, the latter is partially because Reiner spoils them rotten.

Alina picks a flower with velvety purple petals from a bouquet she cradles in her arm, extending it to you.

“For good luck,” she says. “And protection.” Your heart melts at her words and you pause for a moment, looking from the gorgeous bloom to Reiner, occupied with the boy in his arms making silly faces at him. Then, without another moment, you sneak the flower behind his ear and he reaches up immediately to hold it against his head, turning to you in surprise.

“To protect the both of us,” you explain.

“Thank you. I’ll be extra careful now.” He looks at the girls, setting his free hand on Alina’s head heavily and she flushes, smiling grandly. “You three behave while we’re gone, alright?”

You nod. “Listen to Levi.”

“And listen to your sister,” Reiner adds to Alina and Xavier. The former rolls her eyes, the latter sticks out his tongue. “I’ll miss you.”

This is their home—their family that tumbles together into a huge hug, and you can’t help but stand back, watching how they all seem to merge into one unit, unaware of where one part of their reach ends and another begins.

As Reiner pulls you into the hug, your heart soars through your body, effortlessly pounding in your throat and in your fingers and everywhere at once. Liquid heat pools everywhere as Xavier screws up his face when you kiss his cheek, the same way Reiner does after he’s eaten something sour.

And maybe it’s a bit different, or a bit broken, the shards of their bloody history still poking at their heels whenever they think you’ve forgotten them, and it’s most definitely not perfect, but you would rather have it like this then anything else.

“Hey, guys!” Breaking apart, the family look over to see Armin, Annie, and Pieck walking over. Gabi and Falco meander a little bit behind, pushing Levi in his wheelchair, and Jean and Connie are running not far behind them, shouting at one another. You stifle a laugh and Xavier shimmies out of Reiner’s hold to run towards them. The girls follow after him, trying to hold back their runs but the closer they get, you can tell the more frantic they are to say goodbye.

So this is what they’ve made a peace. Something, you hope, is good.

Annie bypasses them quickly, making her way over to you and you survey her face as Reiner squeezes your shoulder, walking over to their friends. Her blue eyes are fixed on your face, and you feel your lips curving into a smile as she shoves her hands in her pockets. Her hair is swaying in the wind, gleaming flaxen, and you remind yourself, not for the first time, that Armin and Annie’s kids, if they ever decide they want them, will be gorgeous.

Hope for the future, and all that.

She stops in front of you, tucking a strand behind her ear.

“So,” she says at length, “we’re going back to Paradis. I’m surprised you decided to come with us. You don’t owe any of us anything.”

“I know. But… you’re my best friend. You do the talking, I fly the getaway plane, right?”

“Yeah. There used to be a time when it probably would’ve been the opposite.”

You nod, and they stand in silence for a moment, watching each other. Two women who should not have been friends, but were against all odds. You don’t think you would be here today if it weren’t for Annie.

Your heart lurches and you take a step forward just as she does, her mouth open to say something. You throw your arms around her and she lets out a noise in surprise as you close your eyes. Arms coming underneath yours, her hands dig into your shoulders and you smile against soft hair as she sighs, easing into your hug.

“Finally working together on an actual assignment,” you mumble and her head tilts as her small frame shifts, a hand patting you on the back as a sign for you to back up. “Just like we always said we would.”

Bluntly: “Just don’t do anything stupid.”

“You, too.” Pulling back, the two look at one another for another soft moment before you remember the bag in your hand and you shift the bun up in the bag, extending it towards her. “Want some?” Her eyebrows rise in faint delight, before she’s reaching over, pinching and tearing a piece off.

You grin and do the same and you gesture for her to come stand by the rails with you, stuffing the bag into your coat pocket. Leaning against the warm metal again, you hear a seagull call. The plane you’ll be flying to Paradis floats on the water, the technicians giving it the final check before you take off.

If anything goes wrong while you help prepare and oversee accommodations for the rest of the ambassador group, you’ll remember to fire the black signal flare, but you trust Historia. You trust your friends.

You glance over at them, all laughing, and you notice that the flower has gone from Reiner to Pieck, who’s taking it out of her dark hair to tuck it into Jean’s, and his cheeks redden as he brushes it more securely behind his ear.

Annie catches your attention again, pointing out idly that they’ll have to separate soon when they finish with the plane, and you tell her to just wait a couple minutes more as Reiner catches your gaze. Setting Xav, who has somehow wormed his way back into his arms, down, he walks back over to you, and his hand trails purposefully over your back before resting at the nape of your neck, a reassuring weight on your body.

“You guys okay?”

“We’re fine,” Annie replies. “You have a clingy boyfriend,” she tells you.

“I think it’s charming.”

She rolls her eyes. Reiner smiles, and you pat the railing beside you—silent invitation. He leans in on your other side, clasping his hands and watching the fishermen pull themselves to shore, singing a tune to each other—one familiar to all three of them and one that you wish you could get out of your head.

“Soon may the Wellerman come…”

A faint breeze tickling at your fingertips as a sharp call for embarkment splits the harbour, you simply sigh and look over at Reiner. “I just want these last few moments to last.” His eyes meet yours, and he leans forward to press a kiss between your eyes. Annie lets out a soft noise of disgust and you bump your hip against her as Reiner pulls back.

Closing your eyes and lifting your head to the wind, you can almost imagine the one person missing standing on the other side of Annie, dark hair like spun, stained bronze and eyes like warm chocolate. He’d smile and tell them not to worry in that sincere way of his that makes you believe every word he says—as long as they were careful, they wouldn’t walk into any traps.

Your chest aches, and your lips tug into a heart-wrenching smile as you begin to sing along. Reiner slips a hand in between yours, pressing his temple against your head and you loop your other arm through Annie’s.

She rests her head on your shoulder, listening to your voice, eyes on the sailors bringing in their haul below them. Reiner hums the shanty softly, distractedly, eyes cast across the sea.

You tilt your head up to the sky, at the stars you cannot see but will join one day, and smile.

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twicearoundthesun · 3 years

Text

“You can’t be mad.” Momo’s back was against the door, barring them from entering the apartment. She seemed to be stalling.

Nayeon stiffened. She felt Jihyo do the same, next to her.

“The kids are fine.” Momo added, quickly.

They relaxed – marginally.

“Momo, what did you do?” Jihyo said from beside her, obviously anxious to get inside their shared apartment.

“I didn’t do anything. Nothing bad.” Nayeon trusted Momo to take care of the kids wholeheartedly, but the girl was making her nervous. “I did something good. Very good, and you’ll love it. Eventually.”

She turned back towards the apartment, poking her head in to check something before walking inside. Jihyo and her followed.

“Momo, if you dyed my three-year-old sister’s hair bright pink, our mother will haunt you.”

“I like to think Mrs. Im would have found pink hair unique and exciting. Especially if it came from me, her favorite friend of her daughter’s.” Nayeon glared. Jihyo rolled her eyes. “But Chaeyoung’s hair is the same color you left it, I promise.” They finished pulling off their shoes in the entrance hallway and followed Momo into the living room.

The apartment wasn’t on fire, there wasn’t paint on the walls, and everything – including the kids - seemed to be in one piece. In fact, it might have actually been cleaner than before, the girls’ toys no longer littering the carpet. Sana stood in front of the couches, bouncing a fast-asleep Dahyun on her hip and watching lovingly as Chaeyoung and Tzuyu pet Boo, who was laying on his side in front of them. The girl’s backs were to them, and Nayeon could see everyone’s hair was the correct color. She breathed a sigh of relief.

At the realization new people had entered the apartment, Boo rolled over and barked. Everyone turned to look at them.

This was followed by a small yip.

Nayeon froze. Squirming out of Chaeyoung’s arms was – oh no.

“Oh god, Momo, did you bring home a rat?”

“You don’t have the right to call any animal a rat if you own a Pomeranian.” Momo said, quickly moving from her side and lifting a tiny, tiny puppy out of Chaeyoung’s grasp. Chaeyoung and Tzuyu, in turn, stood and ran to hug Nayeon and Jihyo.

“UNNIE! LOOK AT THE PUPPY!” Chaeyoung held onto Nayeon’s pants and shook her leg.

“Inside voice, Chaeyoung –” She glanced up at Sana. It was too late, Dahyun was stirring.

“Unnielookatthepuppy!” Chaeyoung pulled at Nayeon again and pointed.

“I see him, Chaengie-”

“HIS NAME IS DOBBY!” Tzuyu yelled, arms around Jihyo, and everyone was too shocked to correct her ‘outside voice’. Dahyun mumbled incoherently, awake now. “We please keep him!”

Nayeon’s mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. She finally got a better look at the dog as Momo brought it over to them and – oh, god, he was cute. He couldn’t have been more than a few weeks old; he looked similar to how Boo did when Momo had first brought him home. Maybe a little younger. Fit in Momo’s arms, laying back like a tiny baby. She looked up at Momo incredulously.

“You bought another dog?!” Jihyo’s voice cut through her thoughts like a knife.

“Rescued!” Momo corrected. She glanced at Sana for support, who had just walked over to join them but looked guilty as anything. “Someone abandoned him and he… he really needed a home.”

“So you thought, I don’t know, three three year olds and two dogs wasn’t enough excitement for our home!?” Jihyo was trying to keep her voice low. She was beyond angry. Even the kids could tell - Tzuyu moved from hugging her legs to hugging Nayeon’s, and Nayeon put a hand on her back.

“Technically all the kids and one of the dogs lives with Nayeon.” Momo countered.

Nayeon could have sworn steam came out of Jihyo’s ears.

“I have an idea.” Nayeon tried to sound cheery. “Why don’t we have a little nap time?”

“Nooooo I wan’a pet Dobby!” Chaeyoung frowned. Nayeon turned to Momo, who kneeled down so she was eye level with Tzuyu and Chaeng. The two girls reached out to pet Dobby delicately.

“Babygirl. I think Dobby needs a nap, too. Remember, he’s just a baby.” Momo explained. “Say goodnight to Dobby and you three can take nice nap in mine and Sana-unnie’s bed.”

“Dobby can come nap with us! Like Boo does!” Chaeyoung beamed. Dahyun let out a little whine from Sana’s arms, who was quick to shush her and kiss her head. Nayeon guessed the same fear Dahyun had towards Boo applied to Dobby, which just about made everything worse.

Momo had heard it, too, and Nayeon caught the frown that passed her features for a second. “No, baby, Dobby has to stay out here.”

The two gave her a big pout. Dahyun hid her face in Sana, the only one clearly ready for a nap. That being said, with the excitement of the day, it took only a few minutes to get them settled. Momo looked terrified as they walked back to the living room couches, still clutching the dog to herself. Sana shifted uncomfortably, but sat with an arm around Momo’s waist.

“Momo.”

“Jihyo, he was alone. In an alley. Look at this face.” She held Dobby up. He yawned.

Jihyo just sighed and put her head in her hands. She was clearly at a loss for words.

“Momo, you can’t- these are big decisions.” Nayeon said softly. “I know.. you have a big heart and you can’t stand to see anything suffering, but… We’ve all got a lot on our plate. Maybe he should go to the shelter? He’s a puppy, he’ll definitely get adopted quick…” The betrayed look on Momo’s face and the obvious tears in her eyes made her trail off.

They were interrupted by the sound of the doorknob turning. Dahyun came wandering out, looking about as determined as three-year-olds could get.

“Unnie.” She’d said as soon as she marched up to Momo.

“Hi, baby, everything okay?” Nayeon answered for her, as Momo was trying to discretely wipe tears from her eyes.

Dahyun knit her brows, staring at the dog.

“Baby?”

“… Can pet?” Dahyun asked in the smallest voice. “Pet Dobby?”

Nayeon’s confusion was mirrored on everyone’s face. The last time Dahyun had tried to pet a dog that wasn’t Kookeu there’d been tears for almost an hour.

“Of... Of course you can, sweet girl.” Momo whispered.

Sana met eyes with Nayeon, before picking her up and placing her in her lap, within arm’s reach of Dobby.

“Dahyunnie, remember Dobby’s just a baby.” Jihyo seemed to finally get her words back. “So he could be a little, uh, excited.”

Dahyun just nodded. Took a deep breath and stared at the dog. Sana kissed her head. Dobby was sleepy, calm in Momo’s arms, but Momo still held him a little tighter so he’d be still. Dahyun reached a little finger out and slowly ran it over the top of his back paw a few times. The dog seemed unbothered, if he felt it at all.

“Great job Dahyunnie!” Sana cooed, rubbing her back.

A smile spread on Dahyun’s face. “Soft.”

“Yes, very soft.” Momo whispered. Nayeon noted the adoration in her eyes, watching Dahyun face her fears.

Dahyun switched from essentially poking his leg to very hesitantly reaching her hand over and patting his tummy once. The dog picked its head up and looked at her curiously, and the whole room tensed as she pulled her hand back quickly. But Dahyun just mirrored the curious look and tried it again, this time rubbing his belly for a second before pulling back. She beamed up at Momo.

“I like Dobby.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmh.” She nodded, leaning her head to the side against Sana and taking a deep breath. That was enough excitement for the time being, it seemed. “Happy he’s here.”

This seemed to fill Momo with joy and sadness at the same time. Nayeon’s chest ached. She broke. There was no way they’d send this dog to the shelter now, was there? She spared a sideways glance at Jihyo, who looked deep in thought.

“Dobby is –ah. Dobby’s going to get really big. Maybe bigger than Boo.” When Dahyun didn’t react, Momo continued. “We.. Might not, uh-”

“You won’t be too afraid of Dobby once he’s bigger than Boo, right Dahyun-ah?” Jihyo interrupted her.

Dahyun shook her head. “Dobby is nice.”

“Good. It’s going to be crazy with two puppies. But it seems like we collect strays in this house.” She looked at Momo pointedly. “Dobby will be the last one for a very long time.”

Momo’s face lit up. Nayeon let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “Of course! Yes!”

Jihyo just shook her head and stood. Dahyun stuck her arms out and Jihyo obliged, lifting her out of Sana’s lap and onto her hip. “But now it’s naptime. You can pet Dobby more once you’ve napped, okay?”

Dahyun nodded, hiding her face in Jihyo’s neck. As Jihyo walked her towards the bedroom, Nayeon heard the kid ask if she saw her pet Dobby. She laughed.

“You’re lucky our three-year-old just saved your ass.” Nayeon chuckled. Momo just beamed down at the puppy, now asleep in her arms.

#baby smc au #working on those requests sorry!!!#nayeon #momo #sana #jihyo #dahyun #chaeyoung #tzuyu #and #dobby #of course #thanks guys #little dubu facing her fears what a cutie #twice au #twice headcannon #twice fanfiction

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opalescient · 3 years

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haikyuu fic recs — the most beautiful, lovely, breathtaking masterlist (vol. I)

so i’ve been binging fics to cure my sadness, and i thought that these select masterpieces were too magnificent to not be plastered on every billboard ever. some tore my soul into shreds, while others melted said shreds back whole, but all of them made me feel some form of sheer, unadulterated love, so. please enjoy! 🥰⛅️✨

note: all of these fics are exquisite and you should read all of them, but if you’re short of time, those with ☆ are my all-time favourites!

daisuga

butterfly in the subway by bigspoonnoya ☆ | T

Sugawara Koushi has no idea he's already in love with the man he's supposed to hate.

i lovelovelove how all the concepts tied in together like a perfectly wrapped gift

also very wholesome, made me feel so inexplicably warm. like, love can exist everywhere!!! despite everything!!! that’s just so inspiring

i revisited this many times, i think it was (one of) my first haikyuu fics and honestly. it set the bar so high and i have no regrets

you’d fit my lonely arms so perfectly by boxofwonder ☆ | G

“Oh. You're. Not Asahi.”

Calmed down enough that he can speak again, Daichi takes a deep breath, his smile settling on his face easily and wide.

“Not as far as I know, no.”

Suga accidentally calls a stranger instead of his best friend, tells him all about his burned batch of cookies before realising, and that particular mistake might turn out the best one he ever made.

major, major fluff

the buildup!!!

god this made my yearning for love so much worse

the perfect stranger by downmoon | T

There’s a man standing outside Suga's door.

Scratch that. Start over.

There’s a man he doesn’t know standing outside his door, holding his sleeping nephew in one arm, with another kid clinging tightly to his free hand.

so domestic please read the entire series from start to finish it has my whole heart

shoyou and tobio as their actual kids 🥺

these two parents are so in love it makes me wanna cry

asanoya

silica sand by lilien passe ☆ | G

Overworked, over-stressed programmer Azumane Asahi works on the top floor of a Shinjuku skyscraper. Nervous around his coworkers and terrified of the long drop on the other side of the window, Asahi falls into a miserable routine, only to have it broken one day by a simple message on the outside of the glass.

PLEASE. so well-written it makes my heart glow and ache simultaneously

made me ascend into asanoya heaven

such a brilliantly unique concept i love it A+

qué syrah syrah by loudlucy | M

Asahi wants to be a Master Sommelier. It's the highest honor in wine service, and the certification would allow him to live the life he's always envisioned for himself. Too bad the certification test is notorious for being the world's most difficult.

Most people fail their first time taking the exam, and Asahi is no exception, but he has more difficulty than most dusting himself off and getting back on his feet. Enter Nishinoya, a young man who shares his same dream, and who believes in their goals so fiercely it forces Asahi to embark on a delicious and sensuous journey of viticulture and validation.

AKA The Wine Tasting AU that literally no one even knew to ask for.

NOTE: You Do Not Need to Know About Wine to Understand This Fic!

another super unique concept!!! (´∀｀=)

my god their chemistry is amazing

the writing made me feel things ngl

stop my bones from wondering by cerasi ☆ | T

After graduation, Asahi hides from the world and needs help from a few sources to find his way back.

i want to write sonnets and sing ballads for this fic, it’s that beautiful

as always, Top Notch Writing *chef’s kiss*

no but i seriously... can i kiss the author? asking for a friend 😳👉🏼👈🏼

iwaoi

star-crossed by starlitcities | T

“I never thought I’d see the day that I’d envy a human,” Oikawa admits, showering himself in tiny suns, because he can actually feels those, like a fusillade of warm kisses on luminous skin that leave marks. To humans, they’d be freckles. Skin stars, Oikawa calls them. He didn’t make that up, a human did.

“Who created the rule that we can’t touch, I wonder,” Iwaizumi ponders, floating heedlessly through space.

“Maybe it’s because we can fly. Humans dream of flying, right?”

“I don’t think so.”

gsjsgsjshsjshsjsj star!iwaoi

they’re LITERALLY STARS

beautifulbeautifulbeautiful i love how the author conveyed the beauty of touch and humanity 🥺🥺

please bless yourself further with the sequel sun-kissed

conquering the great king by suggestivescribe ☆| E

Iwaizumi blinked his gaze over to Oikawa, "Last time was supposed to be a one time thing," he said, voice low, lacking some conviction.

Oikawa's lips twitched into a smirk and he brought them hovering just over Iwaizumi's, "One time thing, Two time thing, what's it matter as long as it's not a Relationship thing?"

yes.

in fact, this entire series (breaking the rules) features daisuga, kuroken, asanoya and it’s SO GOOD. every single one.

but anyway, character development!!!!! plot!!!!!!!!! writing!!!!!!!! i’m here for it all

tsukkiyama

campfire in your chest by deanpendragon ☆ | M

Kei realizes in their second year of high school that he’s probably been in love with Yamaguchi since they were ten. However hopeless he might be in handling that situation, Kei prays he’s at least not as hopeless as Hinata and Kageyama. But he just might be.

SO BEAUTIFUL

i am also a sucker for anything with stars, moons and all the love in between

no words to describe this work of art please just go read it and be blessed

under the lilac tree by raewrites | G

there’s a lilac tree in Kei’s backyard.

gorgeous in its simplicity

softtsukkisofttsukkisofttsukki

not as grandiose as the rest but the love written into every word, action and character is absolutely show-stopping

kagehina

saffron and cayenne pepper by dontsaycrazy ☆ | T

Cooking is hard. Even if you have your very attractive, very grumpy neighbor there to help you.

In which Hinata's lack of cooking skills are a danger to him and others. Luckily (or not), Kageyama is willing to teach him, if only for the sake of avoiding any burned down apartments.

the essence of their characters were captured so well and yet it’s like they’re completely new characters too? author, whoever you are, you totally owned this

this made me ship kagehina so hard

fluff! cuteness! lots and lots of cooing!

kuroken

the galaxy is endless (i thought we were, too) by cosmogony ☆ | T

soulmate

/ˈsəʊlmeɪt/ • noun

A person who was made from the same star as you.

// Kuroken AU where the last words your soulmate will say to you appear on your skin when you turn 16, and how Kenma and Kuroo learn what this means over the course of their lives.

ahhh here it is. beautiful, heartbreaking, soul-emptying agony. you want angst? choke on this, and your tears later on.

no but seriously please read this if you haven’t you won’t regret it at all i promise

written from kenma’s perspective so you experience every depth and multitude of emotion he does and it’s so raw and- brb imma go cry for a sec

knot in my heart by hearthope | T

There’s a picture. Kenma blinks, looking at the little calico cat, being held up next to the face of a guy with stupidly messy hair and a crooked grin.

Cute.

The— the cat. The cat is cute.

Just the cat.

Kuroo starts spending a lot of time at the flower shop Kenma works at. Kenma definitely isn't into him.

okay so i like it when authors unravel a normally stoic character’s full scope of emotion and give them depth, sue me.

anyway, back on the fluff train!

i absolutely f*ck with flower symbolisms, cats and bitchy best friends who have dirt on each other. the layers of romance, friendship and everything in between is so prettily developed 10/10

bokuaka

the jacket you never returned by daisuga ☆☆ | G

He leaned over, kissed Bokuto on the cheek, and smiled bitterly, eyes watery.

He will never remember. Not now, not ever.

What they were will now forever be forgotten.

"You used to call me Keiji, Koutarou."

YOU USED TO CALL ME KEIJI, KOUTAROU!!!!!!!!!!

i beg you to listen to Spiegel im Spiegel when it’s first mentioned in the story please

i read this and screamed through my tears for a solid 1.5 hours. i rarely cry.

no f*ckin regrets though i read this thrice already and it hurts so good every time

rules by conesofdunshire ☆☆ | E

In which Akaashi Keiji is an overworked accountant who stumbles upon Bokuto one night playing the piano in the lobby of his work. Bokuto is different, that much is obvious. But with such supreme musical talent and a smile so dazzling it rivals the sun, there's just something about him that brings Akaashi back every night.

this fic. this fic has my whole, broken, sobbing heart and laughing soul

gorgeous. breathtaking. magnificent.

bokuto is so WARM and akaashi is so STRONG and they both find the solace they need in each other and it’s all i want for me 😭😭😭

in another life by littleluxray | T

Sleeping didn't come as easy as it used to. Bokuto knew this, and now Akaashi did, too.

The hospital AU that no body asked for, but that I took upon myself to write.

this is a famous fic that i doubt any seasoned haikyuu reader wouldn’t know, and RIGHTLY SO BECAUSE, the PAIN. the pain. the pain.

i could feel my lungs shrivel up and my chest cave in on itself. fatigue and rest are things i struggle with too so this whole story resonated with me from start to finish, and it broke me. in like, the best, most revitalising way

i would read this again but it still haunts me at night. i need to heal from the first time before i have the guts to try one more time HAHAHA 😆💔😭

tea-stained polaroids by dalyeau | G

“I'm gonna date that,” Bokuto declares solemnly, and Kuroo throws a plastic spoon at his head.

mmmmmmm pretty photographer + personalised coffee cups + cute baristas = diabetic fluff fic

i smiled so much throughout this you have no idea. cheeks achey but so good

i may have squealed a little at the ending

kurotsukki

moonfall by batman | T

There is no unlearning Tetsurou, after all. There is only leaving him.

(Five things of Tetsurou's that ended up in Kei's home, and one that never left.)

the writing!!!!!! is pure beauty!!!! sheer grace!!!!!!! the construction of the AU and the romanticism and hsjsgsjshsj

didn’t cry but. heart ache and bittersweet smiles are another level of misery that is just as fulfilling

yea just pleasepleasepleaseplease go read it thank you and have a good day

hidden gem by realmSpinner | E

Things get complicated when everything you thought you knew about a guy changes, and they get even more complicated when you actually start liking those changes.

That guy working with you AND becoming your neighbor? That's just a cherry on top of the cake of confusion.

this AU was refreshingly different, and amazingly so

top!tsukki??? sign me the f*ck up

the whole plot, man. perfection.

pings by barfs ☆☆ | T

[5/02/16, 3:50:17 AM] Tsukishima Kei: Please wake up.

[5/02/16, 3:50:23 AM] Tsukishima Kei: I hate begging. You know I hate it.

[5/02/16, 3:50:34 AM] Tsukishima Kei: I bet you’re snickering at that, wherever you are.

[5/02/16, 3:50:53 AM] Tsukishima Kei: But, it keeps hurting and I don’t know why and it feels like shit and I know you could tell me why, but you’re not here and I would really appreciate it if you’d just wake up.

[5/02/16, 3:51:02 AM] Tsukishima Kei: You’re laughing at that too, aren’t you.

[5/02/16, 3:51:10 AM] Tsukishima Kei: Dying is probably up there in the list of top ten shitty things you’ve ever done, and you’ve done a lot of shitty things.

god.

you already know what’s coming, and yet. when it comes.

how the f*ck did the author make grief beautiful????????? (at the expense of me dying along with kei and everyone else i guess)

this fic will ruin you and bury you under all your pain (i hope you’re ready)

but also put you back together with the “sequel”

kyouhaba

close to the chest by darkmagicalgirl | T

It takes Yahaba thirteen years to realize he's different from the other kids, one to figure out how to hide it, and two more to learn to be happy just the way he is. Yahaba's journey ft. an extremely annoyed Kyoutani, best friend in the world Watari, and loads and loads of good senpai Oikawa.

cause i’m (not) alright with the slow, burn~

no fr, take slow and burn very seriously

overthinking yahaba? i understand. i do.

again, such an amazing fic; 10/10 recommend

safe here by crossbelladonna ☆ | M

“Raids are routine work,” Kyoutani tells to Yahaba before he can air the question. “Sometimes there is no sleep done until we accomplish something, say kill a certain ghoul. I guess they’re still going through the possibility that people in the accident are still alive huh?”

Yahaba quirks a smile, pushing his mask up his head.

“You’re alive.”

Kyoutani looks at him intently and all of the things that they’ve gone through for the past month seems to flash in his mind.

“Yes I am.”

i haven’t watched tokyo ghoul but i understood everything perfectly. such is the power of f*cking kickass writing

*cue ugly crying and a lot of unresolved angst*

like the grief??????? ruin me please thank you 🙏 (i think i’m a little masochistic)

rare pairs

mannequin men by surveycorpsjean ☆ | M

[bokuto/akaashi/kuroo/tuskishima]

The modelling world is full of hungry wolves, constantly clambering over the other, snarling and desperate. They fight, and they kill, trampling over anything in their path.

In this case, Akaashi fell in love with the wolves.

i did not expect this to be good, and it wasn’t. it was SPLENDID.

akaashi is so enamoured with them from the get go i love it

a tiny bit of angst that stabbed me in the heart, but the happy ending soothed it (thankfully, because if there wasn’t one i will sue)

characterisation, writing, plot development; everything is great. can you tell i’m running out of synonyms for ‘beautiful’

feel like gold by heronfem ☆☆ | T

[bokuto/akaashi/kuroo/kenma]

In which Kenma is unapologetic and comfortable with who he is, Akaashi learns a lot about himself in a short period of time, Kuroo is wildly in love and an eternal survivor, and Bokuto remembers that love doesn't cure mental illness, but having a support system sure helps a lot.

Or, the one where 4 young men get together, and are helplessly, hopelessly, utterly in love despite everything.

e.e. cummings?? poetry??? f*ck yes

so beautiful. i’m so star-struck by this fic it’s simply stunning

there are no words to fully capture how worth your time and heart and mind reading this fic is so please. do yourself a favour, and fall in love with this fic with me

the sky and guilt are the only feelings i have left by oopsthisisqueertoo ☆☆ | not rated

[bokuto/akaashi/kuroo]

Akaashi is at his wits end. He feels nothing. He's quickly crumbling as a human being. He wants nothing but sweet release of death. In his fourth year of college he drafts a plan for his suicide. He is to graduate, publish writing for others to be inspired by, and slip quietly away. Shortly after, he meets a dog walker named Bokuto who asks him out and Akaashi reluctantly agrees. Nothing matters anymore and he treats Bokuto like an obligation. Until he's not anymore.

TW: SUICIDE ATTEMPTS & DEPRESSION

this was... this gutted me entirely and filled my body with too many shades of agony

arguably one of the best haikyuu fics i’ve ever read

so beautiful in the most painful way fathomable; strongly recommend

april to may by surveycorpsjean | T

[bokuto/akaashi/kuroo/tsukishima]

They're an odd family.

The four of them? Parents?

But still, they're a family.

So they'll support each other until the end.

aaahhhhh third gym as parents 🥺

so much fluff. i also love april and may

they’re still so in love there’s love in every millimetre of this fic :”)

that’s it for now! i’ll add more if i come across anymore good fics. i hope you enjoyed this list! if you have any requests/fic recs, or if u just wanna chat, feel free to just ask! hehe 🥰 k aight bye~

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #fic rec #beautiful #writing #ao3 fanfic #daisuga #kuroken #bokuaka #tsukkiyama #kagehina #third gym #iwaoi #fic #reference #hq

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maybebanks · 4 years

Text

Hurting Part 2

LINK TO PART 1

@mavelfanatic @my-therapist-hates-me @rudypankowswife

⚠️: trigger warning, talks on abuse

JJ lead you to his car and took you back to the chateau. When you arrived, you were wet and cold from the ocean, but you couldn’t budge.

You never actually admitted what was done to you. Not to JJ, or anyone. There was still hope for you to convince him he was wrong.

When he parked, he stared back at you.

“How are you feeling?” JJ said softly.

You scoffed, “freezing. But fine.”

You had a towel wrapped around your legs and another draped over your shoulder.

“I should go home,” you shrugged.

“Sleep here,” JJ suggested, turning off the car and opening his door.

He got around and opened the door for you, “It’s up to John B,” you argued.

JJ chuckled, “you know John B would let you stay any day,”

You inhaled for a deep breath, but it was shaken and not smooth. This made JJ worried.

“Here let me help you out,” JJ said, guiding you with his hand on your lower back.

“Hey! I can get out of a car myself,” you interjected, slowly climbing out.

JJ put his hands up in defense, that little part of him intrigued by your stubborn side. It was like him.

You both walked inside and headed to the bathroom.

“Ooh damn it’s cold!” JJ yelped as he jumped in the shower and turned it on.

You smiled, “bet it’s freezing,”

This motivated JJ to be playful, he smirked and jumped out, then grabbed you gently and pulled you into the shower.

“Ah! No!” You screamed.

JJ laughed and let the water soak you, still with your bathing suit on.

You moved the hair out of your face and grabbed JJ by his cheeks, “You son of a-“

He cut you off by pressing his lips to yours. And once he knew you were comfortable, he moved them gently with yours.

Your hands fell to his neck and intertwined with the back of his hair.

He smiled under your kiss, and gently pushed you against the wall.

The water was getting warmer.

JJ started to unzip your wet suit top, so you pushed him back.

“Not right now, J,” you sighed.

“Oh but you’re sooo pretty,” he pleaded, one hand on the side of your face.

“Im...I’m sorry. I want to make you happy. But every time you touch me...” you paused, looking into his concerned eyes, “it’s stupid.” you sighed, looking away from him now. You moved to get around him but he stopped you.

“Hey, it’s not stupid. I’d never hurt you, Y/n,” JJ said.

“You’re just saying that,” you mumbled.

“I’m not. Do..uh do you see your step dad when I touch you?” JJ asked. Scared of the answer himself.

“No. JJ no. He’s not...I mean I’m like you. Okay? He doesn’t touch me like that, I swear.” You pleaded. If JJ was going to know about anything, he shouldn’t know about the sexual side. Those theories should be laid to rest.

“So how does he touch you?” JJ asked.

You didn’t want to talk about it, “J...um.. like I said. Like you,”

“He hits you? Do...uh you have bruises?”

“Are you asking for proof?” You asked, offended.

“No! Y/n, that’s not what I meant,” JJ tried but you already pushed past him and started grabbing stuff to leave.

“Y/n!-“

“Stay away from me JJ! You don’t have to worry about me anymore! You don’t have to care! I’m leaving!” You shouted, tears pouring down your face as you pushed away the one you loved.

“Where do you think your gonna go? Back there?” JJ suggested, trying to stop you.

“I’m- im not telling you.....I’m not telling you the worst thing about myself!” You said breathlessly.

JJs heart broke. He knew how you felt. But it was so extreme, he knew if you bottled it down you would feel worse.

“Come here,” JJ whispered, you looked at him, afraid.

Slowly, he got close and held her tight, as if she would fall through his arms.

She held him close, as if closing her eyes tight enough would make her forget about the world.

“It’s gonna get worse before it gets better. You’ve gotta talk to me. I’m not going to judge you, or blame you,” JJ assured.

You didn’t say a word, just hugged him. JJ was a good hugger.

“He just..he slapped me. That’s why there’s no bruises like you. He does it sometimes when we fight and my mom is out of town,” you admitted.

“But your mom is almost always out of town.” JJ sighed, knowing your hurting could happen a lot.

“I know. It’s bad. But like I said, you can handle it. So, I can too,” you argued.

“But...” JJ didn’t know how to phrase it, it was worse for you because you were a girl, and there was something sexual about it.

“...the bruises on your legs. And your ass,” JJ continued, his was seeking an explanation.

You sighed, “no, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Those are probobly just from sitting on rocks,” you lied.

JJ furrowed his brows, he hated the fact that you would lie to him. As a way of protecting him. He should be the one protecting you.

“Show me.” He demanded.

“W-what?” You stuttered, gripping tightly to the towel covering your body.

“Show me, please,” JJ added, he only wanted the truth. He didn’t want you to lie to him, or yourself.

“No. I’m sorry, but no.” You exclaimed, trying to get around him and away from this situation.

“Y/n. This is not a joke. Lift up your towel for me, baby. I’m not gonna hurt you,” JJ added, you couldn’t understand where he was coming from.

Why did he have to know?

You got lost in thought until you felt JJ steadily lifting the towel up gently. More of your thigh was visible and park of your butt cheek.

You were still in fear, watching JJ’s jaw clench.

“I’m gonna kill him,” he said softly, “I’m gonna fucking kill him,” he seethed.

You pushed his hands off, “you..you can’t.”

JJs eyes were wide, “what- well he should at least be punished Y/n! There is no way I’m letting him make a pass at you again,”

Your heart throbbed, “you don’t understand. This is why I never wanted to tell you,”

“You haven’t told me anything. And...and look...I get it. No one should have to go through what you’re going through, you’re so god damn strong. But, baby, staying quiet is not helping,” JJ explained.

Your throat felt as if it was closing, the thought of telling anyone haunted you, you shook your head, muttering no.

JJ pulled you in for another hug.

“I’m not going to rush you. But you’re not going back there, got it? You stay by my side, never leave,” JJ told you.

“She comes back tomorrow,” you sniffled.

Your mom.

“Y/n-“

“It’ll be fine. He’s usually nicer when she’s there,” you made an excuse.

“No way. Unless you’re gonna tell your mom, which I don’t think you’re ready for, your staying with me,” JJ said, closing the bedroom door that you were nothing in.

“Are you serious? What, so you’re my body guard now? JJ, don’t try to control me! You don’t even know anything!” You argued in frustration. Hating the feeling of being trapped.

“Because you don’t tell me!” He retaliated.

“Fine! I’m not telling anyone because he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to my mom! We’re basically fucking kooks now! It would break her heart. It would break us. And if he even has the slightest thought that we might tell, he’ll go to her first, and no one will believe me! No ones gonna believe me, over him.”

“I believe you. I’m here, Y/n/n. And you have proof, and you have me to back you up,”

“That’s not enough,” you sighed.

“Yes it is. I’ll show you. It’ll get better, I promise,”

You’ve never heard JJ say that. Ever. He never promises anything. Maybe once as a joke, but this was meaningful.

PART 3

Link to part one

as always, the topics discussed may be triggering. Please seek help if this is happening to you. Love you all so much. Have an amazing day.

#jj maybank #obx imagine #obx fanfiction #outer banks #obx netflix #jj imagine jjxreader obx #obx jj #obx jj maybank x you #outerbanks #jj outer banks #jj maybank fanfic #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank imagine

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markberries · 4 years

Text

o h b a b y┊draco malfoy

anon requested: do you think you can write this? 6thYear!Draco FWB with fem reader (really rough smut to take out his stress and frustrations) and she ends up getting pregnant from a broken condom but tries to hide the pregnancy until it can’t be hidden anymore/Voldemort somehow finds out and uses her to his leverage so Draco does his task? it doesn’t have to be a happy ending. if you don’t want to write this, it’s okay. thank you.

info: war was upon the students of hogwarts. getting pregnant wasn’t the plan.

warnings: SMUT, slight dirty talk, death

genre: smut, angst, fem!reader

word count: 1700+

a/n: LMAO on my wip page i put fluff.... sorry guys but no fluff here. semi edited,, ALSO I JUST REALIZED THIS ISNT FWB :((( IM SO SORRY

your hand tightens around the plastic in your hand, there’s a slight audible gasp that escaped the grasp of your lips, quiet enough for no one to notice, but loud enough for you to hear. you bite your lip, a surge of anxiety pumping through your veins, a skip of a heartbeat making you tap your foot. the two lines that formed in front of your eyes nearly had you shaking, but the worst part is you knew who the culprit was, and you knew how it happened.

you should have known that the moment you hadn’t gotten your period, that something must have happened. he used a condom that day, didn’t he? did i take birth control?

you and draco had been together for over a year, but you would be lying if you said that you hadn’t noticed his change in behavior. the silence that would fill the air, tension thick enough to slice with a knife. he always seemed like he was in thought, an empty gaze within his eyes.

two weeks ago, he was noticeably frustrated and agitated, so you didn’t question when he dragged you to a nearby supply closet, palming him through his pants.

he shut the door, quietly groaning into your left ear. his hands held the flesh of your ass, you could feel his warm breath on your skin, sending goosebumps all over. his mouth lightly brushed your ear, whispering an, “i need you.”

he took his thumb, slowly swiping it across your bottom lip. you parted your lips teasingly, letting his thumb enter your mouth as you lightly sucked on the fingertip. you could see the tent in his pants becoming tighter, the wetness building between your legs as you clenched your thighs together to hide your arousal, exciting thoughts running through both of your minds.

“we don’t have time for this, my love,” he whispered to you, lightly slapping your bottom. “i want you to turn around.”

a sudden feeling of confidence ran through your body, dragging your fingertips across his clothed chest. “oh yeah? why should i listen to you?”

draco decides to play along with your teasing, walking towards you as you walked backwards, your back pressing on the cool wall behind you. draco smirks, shamelessly looking at you up and down. he places his leg in between your thighs, his knee pressing against your clothed heat.

“you’re going to do exactly what i tell you to do princess, or else,” he says seductively, “now unbutton your shirt.”

the excitement running through your body made you bite your lip in anticipation, slowly unbuttoning your white dress shirt, draco watching your fingers play with the black buttons.

“hurry up princess,” he said sternly, nearly growling into your ear. his hand gripped at your thigh, and you let out a slight chuckle.

“i don’t really feel like it, i think i’ll take my time.”

draco clearly wasn’t happy with your answer, roughly grabbing your waist to turn you around, now your chest was touching the wall, your two hands pressed against it. draco, still holding your waist, whispered in your ear, “since you decided to be a brat today, i’m gonna fuck you like one. alright? do we have any problems?”

you whimpered in response, breathing heavily as you heard the unzipping of his pants. he tugged open the foil of a condom, rolling it onto his length. he raised your skirt, pushing your panties aside. he lined up with your entrance, and with no warning, he slammed into you. you cried out, screwing your eyes shut.

“oh fuck,” he groaned in relief, aggressively pounding into you as you continued to moan his name loudly.

“hm? what do you have to say now?” draco grunted as he continuously fucked you from behind. you and draco have gotten rough before, but not like this, it was different. you liked it.

draco repeatedly hit the same spot in your body, pleasure rushing throughout your system. he would pull out to your entrance, then slam back in, the sound and smell of sex filling the small room.

“it feels so good,” you moaned, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. a recognizable feeling began to build up in your stomach, draco’s thrusts becoming sloppy but still pleasurable.

“i’m gonna come,” you whimpered, your vision becoming fuzzy.

“beg for it, princess.”

you were panting, sweat drenching your clothes, “please draco, f-fuck. i want to come so bad — please!”

“then come, princess.”

and with that, you let go, your body shaking while draco thrusted one last time, before finishing off as well.

the memory of that rough day in the closet was still freshly etched in your mind, and it remained there as you stared at the positive pregnancy test. your hand covered your mouth, tears welling up in your eyes. this couldn’t be happening.

you needed to tell draco, he had a right to know. you were still going to decide for yourself if you wanted to keep it or not, and you were leaning on the idea of raising the child. it didn’t matter if draco wanted it or not.

—

the first thing that draco wished, was that he had told you about his hidden identity. when draco heard the news, he wasn’t sure if he should be happy or not. he loved the idea of having a family with you, he didn’t expect to have one so early, but he genuinely wanted to create a future with you — just not under these circumstances.

the dark mark on his arm haunted him, the voice of voldemort’s appearing in draco’s recurring nightmares, and his ghastly tasks assigned to him never failed to make him shiver. so raising a child during this dark and twisted era, scared him.

a hundred things ran through his mind, asking himself if he would be a good father, whether or not his child would hate him because he was a bad person, and the secret he hid from you about being a deatheater.

“that’s amazing, y/n,” he smiled at you, and you let out a sigh of relief. you ran into his arms, burying your head in his chest as you let out a small cry.

“i thought you would leave me,” you said quietly, muffled by his clothing, but still audible. he smiled, brushing your hair as he held you in a warm embrace.

“i would never leave you,” he said softly, smiling down at your figure. you looked up at him, your eyes watery and shining like crystals, happy tears running down your face. you were draco’s soft spot, the one person who draco would rather die with than live without, and the thought of losing you made draco’s heart hurt.

he wiped the tears off of your face, planting a kiss on your forehead. for the first time in awhile, he felt calm, the warmth of you surrounding him, your soothing presence making him feel like this moment would last forever, and he wished it did, for he would have preferred to stay with you in that circumstance for the rest of his life.

—

the second thing draco wished, was that he had never been brought into this type of life. draco swore he nearly cried when bellatrix, voldemort’s fanatically loyal servant, ordered him to kill dumbledore. he almost said no, when thinking of you. the only thing that had stopped him, was the mention of your name. he froze in his tracks, trembling.

“you’re in love with another pureblood, aren’t you? what was her name — y/n?”

a cackle left bellatrix’s chapped lips while she played around with her wand. she sat comfortably in draco’s home, an evil smile from ear to ear. “she bears a child, doesn’t she?”

draco was left speechless, his lower lip quivering in horror. “how do you know that?”

he barely heard the sound of his mother questioning him, only thinking of what might possibly go wrong in this situation.

“it’s not about how i know, it’s about what i can do,” bellatrix said, standing up from the chair. “so it settles it then, you kill dumbledore, or i kill y/n and your child.”

draco forgot how to breathe. his brain scattered with possibilities of anything bad happening to you, how you would sound when you were being tortured, the pleading cries you would scream out while draco could only watch. he had to do it. he had to kill dumbledore.

but how could he? he would have to bear this weight on his shoulders, be seen as a murderer to you and his child. what would you think of him? would you think of him as a monster? even so, how would he protect you if he were to refuse the proposal of voldemort?

he was overwhelmed with thoughts, no hope left in his body. he couldn’t do it, he was too scared. he knew he was too much of a coward, and his inability to tell you about his dark mark proved it.

—

the third thing draco wished, was that he could’ve started a family with you. he imagined you with a bright smile on your face, placing breakfast on the table while your baby babbled random noises in their high chair. you would kiss him goodbye as he left for work, and he would never lose that feeling of happiness you gave him; but as he heard the terrified screams and shrieks that emitted from you, he knew that it would not be happening.

he simply had refused to kill dumbledore, creating a plan to escape with you, to run away and live a secret life, but that was too good to be true, as he watched your shivering body. you weren’t dead, just badly hurt. voldemort was laughing in amusement, watching you writhe in pain while tears ran down draco’s pale face.

“stop it! you monster!” draco bawled, his mother and bellatrix holding him back.

“did i not say that she would die? how dare you disrespect me?” voldemort shouted in response. the pain was too much for you to handle, and you dropped to the floor, still alive, but almost gone. draco should have told you, he knew he should have said something about the dangers that were ahead of you. he knew that he was in the wrong, and what he was about to do wasn’t going to fix everything, but it was the least he could have done.

so when draco ran in front of your body, as voldemort yelled out the curse that would send you to death, draco had received the curse instead of you, and the final thing he wished was that he had told you how much he loved you.

so when you began to crawl towards draco’s lifeless body, your own soul beginning to leave yours, you kissed him.

and both of you lay there, with your unborn baby, never knowing what could have been.

#draco #draco angst #draco malfoy #draco malfoy angst #draco smut #draco malfoy smut #harry potter #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine

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malfoymanortings · 4 years

Text

my heart is buried in Venice

SUMMARY: she would rather die for love than live for fear. it appears that falling for draco malfoy puts that to the test.

PAIRING: draco x oc

WARNINGS: smut and a bit of descriptive torture (crucio)

hello again! this is angsty. that’s all i will say, so now you’ve been warned. let me know if you enjoy it. its a bit of a longer one! bold/italics symbolize the beginning/ending of a flashback. hopefully it isn’t confusing! also, sorry the summary is shit, im so bad at writing them!

She thinks back to the first time she had seen Draco Malfoy. Not the first time they had met, immature beyond their current years, but the first time she had seen Draco.

The crying was unfamiliar to her, yet it brought stabbing pains to her chest. She hurried into the bathroom, expecting to find a scared first year. They always came to the bathrooms to cry, although they did normally avoid Moaning Myrtle. Still, with the current state of the world, she supposed nothing would be surprising at this point.

“It’s alright,” she stepped in cautiously, peering to see where the crying person was. “No one deserves to cry alone in the bathroom.”

With a thick, shaky sort of breath, the crying tapered off. She turned the corner to see a silver head of hair hunched over the sink, a boy with white sleeves rolled up on his arms. He wasn’t quick enough to yank the sleeves down, and she stopped short when she saw the unmistakable mark of Voldemort on his arm.

“Get out,” Draco Malfoy snarled, turning to half his face was visible to her. “Now.”

“I would hate to leave you alone like this,” she paused, holding her hands out in a sort of I come in peace way. “I may not be your preferred company, but I’ve been told I’m a great listener.”

It was almost unnoticeable, but Draco softened. It was clear in the sag of his shoulders, the loosening of his grip on the sink. She held her breath, and walked further into the bathroom.

“Or, I could offer out a distraction,” she leaned against the frame of the stall, her arms crossed on her chest. “I’ve also been known to ramble about nonsense more often than not.”

“And who exactly is it that said that?” Draco turned towards her, and sat on the floor.

She smiled, and promptly sat down on the floor with her back against the frame. “Well, I’m quite good friends with Susan Bones…” and she launched into a tale of the time when she and Susan had successfully distracted Professor Sprout for half a lesson, by asking about the mixing of magical plants with other muggle plants of certain… properties. They had been beyond surprise when Professor Sprout was quite knowledgeable on the subject herself.

To her surprise, Draco had engaged a bit in the discussion, asking questions and humming and hawing here and there to show he had actually been listening. He had subtly wiped his face dry during the conversation, and she had pretended not to notice.

“I’m quite surprised to find you here, you know,” she said gently, after their shared laughter had come to a stop. “I’m sure you have a million other friends in your house that would talk with you, rather than a Hufflepuff.”

“I haven’t got any friends,” he scoffed harshly, his face once again that hard mask he wore in the halls. “None that really give a shit. Certainly none that would-” but he cut himself short, shaking his head and staring at his hands.

“None that would want to know the reason behind having the mark,” she guessed softly, raising her hands when he lifted his head with a snarl on his face. “If it bothered me terribly, I wouldn’t be sitting here with you. I would have already gone to Dumbledore or someone.”

“So why are you here?” his face was twisted again, into the hatred and despair that seemed foreign on his beautiful features. “Waiting for the right opportunity to strike? Waiting for me to spill my secrets, so you can go running off to tell?”

“No,” she shook her head, answering honestly. “I’m here, because someone was crying and needed a friend.”

Draco’s shoulders sagged again, and he rested his head on his knees. The gentle trembling of his shoulders were the only sign that he was crying again.

In a move that was boldly out of her character, she scooted across the floor so she was beside him. The gentle tensing of his body let her know that he noticed her movements. Slowly, and then in one rushing movement, she wrapped her arms around him.

He began to shove her off at first, but then he sagged once more, and rested his head on her shoulder. Again, he cried, and she murmured reassuring words as he did.

A long time had passed before the embrace ended. Draco had stopped crying, and they had been sitting there in silence for a while.

“Would you like to talk about it?” she asked him quietly, when he pulled out of her arms.

He shook his head, his grey eyes looking at hers with a haunted gaze. “I can’t.”

It is those same grey eyes she stares at now. Not entirely grey, they have the most spectacular speckles of blue in them. A brilliant contrast to her honey brown ones.

“Is there any particular reason you enjoy the bathroom?” she asked Draco, setting her bag beside her as she sat on the floor next to him.

“I don’t enjoy the bathroom,” he muttered, his elbows resting on his knees. “It’s a filthy place.”

“So then why, when you disappear, do I always find you in the bathroom, either staring at the mirror or sitting on the floor?” she bumped his shoulder with her own, looking up at him through her lashes.

“Are you keeping tabs on me?” he turned his head to look down at her, his grey eyes dark.

Well, not entirely grey. The longer she stared at them, the most beautiful flecks of blue popped out at her. As she stared -admired, although she wouldn’t admit that to him- the bags underneath paired with his spiderweb veins of tender yellow and blue haunted her.

“Perhaps,” she paused, her lips parting for a moment. “Does that bother you?”

“It should,” he surprised her with the raw honesty in his voice. He was normally much more reserved. “But it doesn’t. I like the thought of you thinking of me.”

“Well, I think of you quite often,” she admitted, a bit breathless at the admission. “When you weren’t at dinner, I knew where to find you.”

“The bathroom,” Draco scoffed, turning away to hide the redness spreading across his cheeks. She smiled gently, as she didn’t miss it. She noticed just about everything he did. “Who would have ever thought a Malfoy would declare the bathroom as their safe space.”

“Put a few pictures up, might make it a bit more homey,” she suggested, resting her head on his shoulder. “Although I would make sure they’re all modest, don’t want Myrtle to take any for her personal use.”

“Oh, come on now,” he gave a rare smile, reminiscent of the smirk he used to wear all the time. “Myrtle isn’t that bad.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Wow, Draco, first the bathroom, now Myrtle? Clearly you’ve strayed from your noble path.”

Perhaps that was the wrong thing to say. The reaction from Draco was immediate, his mouth snapped shut with an audible snap, his jaw clenched, and his body went stiff. She lifted her head off his shoulder, apologies on her face, but he began speaking with an angry rush that startled her.

“I don’t think there’s anything noble left in me,” his hands were shaking now. “My life has become such a mockery of what I thought it would be, and there’s absolutely no way out. I don’t know what I’m going to do, and I need to figure it out now before he- before he kills me.”

Time seemed to freeze after he spoke. He had never even hinted before, at anything like that. They danced around the subject of his dark mark, neither wanting to bring it up. But now, for Draco to so openly admit that he was being forced to do something, more than likely pertaining to Voldemort, well. It was a breakthrough in their relationship.

“You can tell me anything, Draco,” her voice was barely above a whisper, and yet, it sounded through the empty bathroom like a siren. “Please, don’t feel like you need to bottle this up.”

Tears leaked out of Draco’s eyes, and she tentatively wrapped her arms around him. This time, he held her back even tighter, and shifted so that she was in between his legs. He cradled the back of her head gently, pressing her to his chest, and he rested his head on top of hers. Her heart began racing, and his did the same. She knew this because his heartbeat was echoing in her ear from being pressed against his chest.

“I have to fix the vanishing cabinet in the room of requirement,” he said the words quickly, in a rush. “To get the death eaters in the school. He.. he wants me to kill Dumbledore.”

“Oh, Draco,” her breath was shaky, and she closed her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

The bathroom seemed deathly silent after that. Time seemed to stretch infinitely, until Draco shattered it once more.

“I’ve thought of jumping off the astronomy tower,” he breathed out, so lightly she almost didn’t hear. “Ending it all. But I’m too much of a coward to go through with it.”

“No,” she said quickly, pulling back slightly so she could look at his eyes. “You can’t do that I can’t- I don’t want to lose you.”

The quick admission slipped from her lips before she could stop it, and she wanted to swallow her words as fast as she said them. Draco shut his eyes, his cheeks glistening from the tears that had fallen. His jaw was clenched, a sure sign that he was upset.

“You can’t have me,” Draco’s voice was firm. “I’m not good for you. You’ll only get hurt, if they know I care for you.”

“You care for me?” that seemed to be the only thing her mind would let her latch onto, and she marveled at the fact.

“You could be killed.” his voice was less firm now, and he opened his eyes, grey staring into brown.

“I could be killed regardless,” she pointed out, nearly breathless. “There’s a war going on, Draco. I could die tomorrow, I could leave for holiday or summer break, and be killed. I don’t want to exist in fear. I want to live what little time I may have left in love.”

The words seemed to hang between them, the air heavy. Draco’s eyes shut briefly, and his arms tightened around her before he opened them again. As his head bent towards her, she closed the gap, placing her hands on his cheeks. He flinched at the touch, but melted into her as their lips progressed together.

Her eyes flick down to his lips now, the feeling of them so familiar yet so foreign at the same time. Liquid trickles down her forehead, towards her cheek, but she doesn’t move a hand to brush it away.

“Don’t you dare fucking hurt her!” Draco shouted at Harry Potter, flashing a streak of purple towards the Gryffindor. He pushed her out of the way, and she skidded to the floor.

Harry fired another spell at Draco, exploding the toilet next to her. The porcelain rained down on her, and she raised her arms protectively as the shards cut her skin. Draco shot another spell at Harry, and the bin behind him exploded.

She rose to her feet, nearly slipping on the water, trying to get her wand from her discarded robes on the floor behind Draco. Just as she had it in her hands, she turned, only to get hit with a leg locker curse from Harry. She fell, unable to brace herself, and knocked the side of her head on the sink, hot liquid spilling down her face as her head exploded in pain.

Draco turned to see her, and his face contorted in rage as he turned back to Harry. He cried, “Cruci-”

“SECTUMSEMPRA!” bellowed Harry, cutting off Draco’s unforgivable curse, waving his wand wildly.

She watched in horror through blurry vision as blood spurted from Draco’s face and chest as though he had been slashed with an invisible sword. He staggered backward and collapsed on to the waterlogged floor with a great splash, his wand falling from his limp right hand.

“No,” she choked out, the leg locker curse wearing off. “No, no, no!”

Her head spinning wildly, she looked down horrified as Draco’s white hands scrabbled at his blood soaked chest. She was vaguely aware of Harry falling to his knees next to Draco, and without a second thought, she wound her fist back and punched him with as much strength as she could muster.

“Fix him,” she screamed at Harry, who had a hand pressed to his nose. “Whatever you did, fix him now!”

“MURDER! MURDER IN THE BATHROOM! MURDER!”

Moaning Myrtle had appeared out of the toilets, and she was now floating around the bathroom wildly.

The door banged open, and Professor Snape burst into the room. She realized it was the only time she was happy to see the hook nosed man. He pushed Harry roughly aside, and drew his wand over the deep wounds Harry’s curse had made, muttering an incantation that sounded almost like song. The flow of blood eased, Snape wiped the residue from Draco’s face and repeated his spell. Now, the wounds seemed to be knitting.

She had his hand in her own, reaching up ever so often to wipe away the blood that kept coming from her head wound. When Snape had performed the counter curse for the third time, he half-lifted Malfoy into a standing position.

She stood up quickly, hearing Snape mutter to Draco. She steadied herself against the headrush she got from standing, a fresh wave of pain rolled through her head.

“Miss Cherrywood, are you able to accompany Draco to the nurse?” Snape eyed her, his face unreadable.

“Of course,” she quickly took Draco in her arms, steadying herself against the added weight. “What do I tell Madam Pomfrey?”

His gaze didn’t miss the way she looked at him, or he her. “Tell her exactly what happened. I am going to deal with Potter.”

She nodded, and hurried out of the bathroom as fast as she could. Draco was pale, much paler than she had ever seen him, which was saying something. He normally looked as white as their sheets.

They made it to Madam Pomfrey, who immediately took Draco into her care. As she watched Madam Pomfrey, she told her exactly what happened. Harry had started it, for no good reason. She left out the part about Draco nearly using an unforgivable, and as she finished recounting the story, she fell over from the sudden wave that went through her head.

Nothing got passed Madam Pomfrey. She was instructed to sit on the bed next to Draco, and once Madam Pomfrey was satisfied with her work on the silver haired boy, she fixed up her would and gave her a potion for the concussion she surely endured.

“You alright, Birdie?” Draco’s eyes were shut, and his voice was weak as he spoke.

“Don’t worry about me,” she slid off the bed, ignoring the instruction Pomfrey had given her before she left. “How are you?”

When her hand held his, he opened his eyes. He was so pale. She brushed his silver strands off his forehead gently, careful of the bottom half of his face that had been hit with that nasty curse.

“I feel as though I should be dead,” Draco paused, his voice low. “For whatever reason, that thought now scares me.”

“What do you mean, love?” the pet name slipped out of her mouth, and she hoped he didn’t mind. She brushed a thumb over his hand, relishing in the soft skin.

“I mean,” he turned to look at her, his face open and earnest. It reminded her of the day he had told her everything. That seemed so long ago now. “I was scared I was going to die without ever telling you how I felt.”

Silence laid over them like a blanket. She stared at him, lips parted, not knowing what to say.

“Birdie, I love you,” Draco broke the silence, shutting his eyes once more. “I shouldn’t. But I do. What happened today with Potter is just a fraction, a mere glimpse, of what would happen to you if he knew my feelings for you.”

“I don’t care, Draco,” the words flew from her mouth, a smile gracing her lips. “I don’t care. I love you. I am in love with you. I would always choose to live in love instead of fear.”

Draco opened his eyes again, and reached a weak arm up to press his lips to hers. Their eyes shut as their lips moved in sync as they had done many times before.

“I meant what I said,” she says the words quietly, looking into those familiar grey eyes. “I will always choose to live in love rather than fear.”

Laughter is heard around them, and she swallows her fear down hard. She vows to be true to her words, no matter the cost.

“Tomorrow,” Draco says quietly, turning to look at her. “It happens tomorrow.”

She let out a shaky breath, turning away from his gaze to the night sky. She had known this was happening, since he told her he fixed the damn cabinet. There was nothing to do. She couldn’t stop it. She wouldn’t help him. She would be fighting against him, come tomorrow night.

“I love you.” the words fall from her lips in a shaky voice, tears slipping down her face.

“Darling,” Draco took her in his arms, cradling her head to his chest. She was reminded of their first hug when he did the same. “I love you more than I had ever thought possible.”

They kissed again, this time a different passion behind it. They both knew this was a goodbye, maybe forever. He would leave with the Death Eaters tomorrow, after he killed Dumbledore. He would have blood on his hands and would formally join the enemy.

Their lips clashed and moved together, tongue touching teeth and lips touching skin. They grabbed at each other, daring to find where the other began and the other stopped. Gentle hands, harsh lips. It was a fight for love that wouldn’t matter in the end.

Draco laid her down on the cushy blanket they had been sitting on before, and paused. “Are you sure you want this, Birdie?”

“I want you, Draco,” she stared up at him, trying her best to memorize his every feature. He was so angelic. How could he be put up to the task he was given? “Only you, Draco.”

He pressed kisses to her neck, deftly unbuttoning her blouse. It slid off her shoulders, and he unhooked her bra next. For a moment, he stopped, staring at her exposed breasts for the first time.

“So beautiful darling,” he murmured, pressing kisses to her skin. “All for me.”

“Always for you.” she moaned back, as he nipped and sucked at her soft breasts.

His lips felt like fire against her skin, as he took a nipple in his mouth while his hand played with the other. She arched her back, wanting to be as close as possible to him. After a moment, she helped him slide his shirt off so she could touch his bare skin. Her nails dragged down his back as he sucked on her breasts, massaging the other with his hand.

He began pressing kisses to her neck, while his hands slid her skirt and panties off her hips, leaving her bare underneath him. He did the same to his pants, leaving his boxers on. He glanced up at her once more, and when she nodded, pressed his lips to hers and cupped her heat.

He ran a finger up her slit, kissing her neck once more as she moaned at his touch. She gripped his shoulders as he began pushing one finger in and out, before adding another one. She moaned softly as Draco sucked on her neck, his fingers sliding in and out of her. He began to rub small circles on her clit with his thumb, and her eyes fluttered shut.

“Draco,” she moaned out, pleasure coursing through her body as he kissed her breasts again.

“That’s it, darling,” he replied, pressing his lips to her once more before trailing back down to her neck. “Say my name.”

He pumped in and out of her faster, and she cursed as she said his name. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, and he hissed at the pain. He rubbed her clit faster, and she felt pressure building in her stomach. She moaned his name again, her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

“You’re so beautiful darling,” he praised her. “All hot and wet for me. Only for me.”

He picked up the speed of his fingers pumping in and out, and she could feel herself becoming close to coming.

“Draco, I’m gonna-” a moan from her throat cut her off.

“Yes Birdie, come on fingers,” he coaxed, his thumb again rubbing fast against her clit. “I want to taste you, love. Come all over my fingers.”

Moaning, her head tossed back, she came all over his fingers, grinding her hips onto them as she rode out her high. She caught her breath, and looked back at Draco, who placed his fingers in his mouth, sucking her juices off them.

“So sweet, darling,” he told her, his gaze heavy. “I didn’t expect anything else.”

He kissed her parted lips, and she tangled her fingers in his hair. She could feel his bulge pressing against her core, separated only by the thin fabric of his boxers, and she pulled away from him.

“Draco,” she gazed at him with lidded eyes. “I want you to make love to me.”

“Anything for you, darling.” Draco complied, slipping his boxers off and swishing his wand towards her stomach. She felt a slight tingle, and realized it was the contraceptive spell.

She glanced down at his hard cock, and swallowed hard as she realized how big it was. She watched as he lined himself up to her entrance, biting her lip.

His lips captured hers once more, before he pulled away to look at her for her consent once more. She nodded, and he pushed into her wet heat, groaning at how tight she was. She sucked in a harsh breath, her eyes watering. It was her first time, and the pressure was a lot to handle.

Draco noticed, and he pressed kisses to her neck, her cheek, her lips, as he let her adjust to his size. “Darling, you feel incredible. So fucking tight.”

“Can you..” she bit her lip once more, subconsciously grinding her hips against him.

He groaned at the feeling, and began slowly moving in and out of her. It hurt at first, but she slowly got used to the feeling, and pleasure began to take over. The feeling of him pushing in and out made her toes curl, and she moaned as he began to pick up the pace.

“You’re so wet for me,” Draco groaned, interlacing their fingers. “Feel so good, Birdie.”

“Draco,” she moaned, the sound of her name on his lips bringing pleasure to her. “Fuck, this feels so good.”

He brought one hand down to push her legs further apart, the motion making him hit deeper inside of her, effectively hitting her g-spot. His name fell from her lips in a string of moans, and he began to stroke into her faster.

“You’re such a good girl,” he groaned into her ear, pressing sloppy kisses to her neck. “Good little Hufflepuff getting fucked by a Slytherin.”

Her lips were parted, and her eyes were screwed shut as he thrusted into her, her breasts bouncing from the force he fucked her with. She again let out a string of moans, his name falling with every other word. His thrusts began to get more sloppy, and his hand reached down to rub circles onto her clit as he thrusted in and out. She began to feel the pressure building up again, and her body writhed underneath him as the pleasure took over her. He groaned, and with a few more thrusts, she felt him shudder, and a sudden wetness filled her cunt. Euphoria washed over her as he did this, and she realized she had come for the second time that night.

For a moment, Draco stayed inside of her, leaning down to press kisses to her neck once more before pulling out of her. He laid next to her on the blanket, and pulled her into his embrace.

“I love you,” he pressed his lips to her temple, his hand stroking her hair.

She looked up at him, their bare skin pressed to each other. “I love you too.”

The hopelessness of the situation hits her. There was nowhere to turn. They knew all about them now, but as she lets their memories wash over her for the final time, she smiles. She wouldn’t change a thing.

“Birdie, it isn’t safe for us to be together,” Draco murmured into her hair, his arms wrapped tightly around her. “They’ll hurt you.”

“I don’t care, Draco,” she looked up at him and smiled. “What more can they do to me? The Carrows Crucio me nearly once a week.”

“Because you can’t just let things be,” he responds angrily, moving away from her in frustration, his fingers gripping the railing for the astronomy tower. “You have to involve yourself.”

“I’m not going to let them use unforgivable curses on first years!” she yelled back, her voice echoing in the empty tower.

That paused both of them. She never yelled at him. He wasn’t even sure she could yell.

“Draco, I love you,” she began again, taking his hands in her own. “I love you so much. You have to understand that I can’t just let them tortue kids. If I have a chance to stand up to the Carrows, I will do that.”

“I know,” his shoulders sagged in defeat, and he sat down on the floor, his back against the railing. “I just wish you weren’t so stubborn. I wish I could protect you better.”

“If you did that, they would know about us,” she sat next to him, placing her head on their shoulder. “It would be so much worse for us.”

Draco nodded. They sat in silence for a while, her head on his shoulder, his fingers playing with her hair. Hogwarts was much different this year. Snape and the Carrows had taken over Hogwarts. The remaining members of the DA were still fighting against them, for what they believed in. Hoping each day Harry would come back, and everything would be okay again.

Neville and Ginny had taken over the DA. She helped out a lot more than she had expected she would. She felt that, maybe, part of her was guilty because she was deeply in love with Draco, and he played a part in the downfall of the school.

But he had no choice. He was the boy who had no choice. And she knew that.

No one knew about them. The only person who probably did, was Harry Potter. And at this point, if he ever were to think of her or Draco, he probably thought she wouldn’t still be with him. But it didn’t matter. Harry had much bigger things to worry about then who Draco Malfoy fancied.

“I want a nice little cabin in the woods,” Draco traced circles on her arm, his voice low. “Away from everyone. Away from everything. I want to grow our own garden. My mum always loved gardening. She has the most beautiful flower gardens, you would absolutely love it…” his voice trailed off, no doubt thinking of before. Before things got messy. Before life went south.

“What does the cabin look like, love?” she asked, tilting her head up to look at his angelic face. He smiles, placing a quick kiss to her forehead.

“It’s small, very modest,” he continued, looking at her face. “There’s a giant couch, soft as a cloud. Tons of blankets throughout, for when you complain it’s too cold even when it’s a beautiful summer day,” he pokes at her side, making her giggle. “A nice window with a desk in front of it. I’ll sit at the desk every day, and write. Bad, good, all of it. I’ll publish my own book, one day, about all the bullshit we’ve gone through.”

“The autobiography of Draco Malfoy.” she smiled, leaning further into him.

“Exactly,” Draco laughed, although there isn’t much humor. “My mother is the only one allowed over. She’ll want to help with the garden, but I’m not going to let her. I’ll be the one to do it. Hell, maybe I’ll even do it without magic. We’ll be hidden away in the trees, unable for anyone to find. There’ll be two bedrooms, one for us, of course, the largest one, and the other for…”

“For what, Draco?” she nudged him, wondering why he had trailed off.

Draco looked down at her, his hand grasping her chin. “For our children. Two, at least. No only child bullshit. I never want our children to be lonely.”

“You want kids with me?” she marveled at the fact, unaware that Draco would ever want kids, much less with her.

“Birdie,” he breathed, the smell of peppermint hitting her nostrils. “I want an entire lifetime with you.”

“Do it now, Draco!” Bellatrix shouts from behind her, her heels clacking as she strides forward.

She feels the woman dig her nails into her neck, and she can’t stop the whimper of fear that escapes from her lips. Her eyes plead with Draco, honey brown meets grey blue. He’s a mess, his eyes wild with despair, his arm shaking as he holds his wand up to her.

“Birdie..” her name falls from his lips, and she cries as she hears the goodbye in it.

“Please, Draco,” she pleads, and she’s unsure why. She wanted to die bravely, not groveling at someone's feet. “I want a lifetime with you.”

“Filthy scum,” Bellatrix snaps, forcing her to her knees. “Do it, Draco.”

His hand is unsteady. His wand is shaking.

“Crucio!” Bellatrix shouts, her wand digging into her neck.

Her every nerve ending is on fire. She screams and she screams, her voice harsh. The words carved into her skin hadn't hurt this bad. Her head being slammed into the ground repeatedly hadn’t hurt this bad. She feels like every bone in her body is being broken, just heal and break once more. It’s like she’s been dipped into a vat of acid, and her skin is peeling off.

She wishes for death.

The pain stops, but her skin twitches as her muscles remember the pain. She’s laying on the ground, moaning as tears slide down her cheeks. Her throat hurts so bad, and she wishes she could stop crying, but she can’t.

“Stand up, you pathetic bitch!” Bellatrix hoists her to her feet, again holding her by the back of her clothes. “Now, Draco!”

She blinks fast, clearing her vision to look at Draco. He looks so thin, so pale. The dark circles are back. Spiderweb veins of tender yellow blue are visible on his face. Yes he’s still so breathtakingly handsome as he once again holds his wand to her.

“Always for you,” the words slip out of her lips as she stares at the man she loves. “Only ever for you.”

“Shut up!” Bellatrix slaps her, and the pain barely registers from the amount she’s already been through. “I’m not asking you again, Draco.”

“Let her stand on her own,” Draco demands, his voice cracking. “I won’t kill her while you hold her.”

Bellatrix steps away then, a cackling laugh coming from her lips. Without the support of the wicked woman, she sways and nearly falls, but catches her balance just in time.

“I would rather die in love, than live in fear,” she says softly, under her breath, the words coming out funny as her jaw is still twitching from the cruciatus curse. “For you, I would die a thousand times over.”

She shuts her eyes then. She knows what’s coming. In some way, she always knew this was where they would end up. Perhaps not with him holding the wand to kill her, but with her dying because she wasn’t afraid to love him.

“Birdie,” Draco says in the voice that’s meant only for her, and she smiles, happy to hear it one more time. “I love you. I’m sorry.”

“Avada Kedavra!”

There is a flash of green.

#draco malfoy #draco imagine #draco x oc #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy smut #draco #malfoy #death eaters #death eater #death eater draco #draco fuckingmalfoy #draco fucking malfoy #Harry Potter #harry potter series #harry potter smut #voldemort #hogwarts

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kalinawtokilig · 3 years

Text

When you can’t reach your parent(s’) expectations

Have you ever still feel not good enough to those who expect greatness and extraordinary accomplishments from you? It hurts the most when it’s your parents.

But don’t worry, they’re here to help you up

------

Pair(s) : Akaashi Keiji x Reader, Sugawara Koushi x Reader, Oikawa Tooru x Reader

---

Akaashi Keiji x Reader

When he sees you at his front door in the pouring rain, he ushers you to come in

He lets you borrow his clothes as he uses a towel to dry your hair

Akaashi would lecture you on why you shouldn’t walk in the rain without an umbrella, since you can get sick and then your parent will get mad at you

Having said that, you sighed deeply

Raising a brow, he thought of you to be tired from walking to your home to his house

“Want to watch that anime that you were telling me about?”

You look away and shook your head

“Mm, do you want to eat?”

You shake your head again

“What do you want to do then, hon?”

You look up to him. Akaashi is so patient with you, and he knows when you’re at your best and he recognizes your hardworking posture and daze when all of those all nighters of studying and on the bridge of nervous breakdowns were so worth it that he congratulates you for everything you accomplished for

Why can’t your parent do the same?

Your boyfriend stares back you, worried creeping up as your brows furrowed and eyes became glossy

He lays a hand on your cheek, palm soft and caring, warmth on your cold cheek envelopes when he cups it gently

“Do you want to stay on my bed and sleep?”

Yes. You need sleep. You desperately need it.

On his bed, he pulls the covers up, making sure not a trace of your limbs or skin is exposed (Not like its ever cold in Akaashi’s house,, I feel like its naturally warm in all ways, ya know?)

He lays on his side, one arm open, welcoming for you to cuddle him if you want

Shuffling closer, you lay your forehead on his chest, and he hugs you as lovingly as he can

“I’m proud of you, you know that right?”

((Stop,, making myself FEEL EW))

Sugawara Koushi x Reader

((Gawd,,, I fuckin pimp the SHIT OUTTA HIM MAH DUDE-))

When Sugawara’s at your place, in your room, he came from practice and was sleeping in your bed ((After he took a shower, mans brought his own clothes,, what a RESPONSIBLE MANN UGHHH))

While you were having an argument downstairs with your parent about how you’re not putting enough effort in your studies and putting other priorities above that, you bit your tongue from snapping as they continued on about how ‘You can do better’ or ‘You need to try harder’ and ‘I don’t want you to be a failure’

Lowering your head and nodding blankly at every sentence your parent says, they finish by saying go upstairs and study

“Become great, so I’ll be able to tell my friends how extraordinary you are.”

Up in your room, you keep re-reading and writing down important key facts into your notebook

‘Do good, be better, become greater’

‘Why can’t they see all that I’m doing is for them? Is what I’m doing never enough? When can I ever stop try to appease them? When will I ever try to be enough for myself?’

“Am I not important to even be seen as good enough?” You whispered.

Biting your lip, you gritted your teeth and held onto your pen as tight as you can, trying not to even sniffle to disturb your ever so tired boyfie ((Wake him up,, he’s there and he’s with you whenever babes >:((( Suga-love is always there for you ))

Sugawara had been awake, he had been awake since he heard your parent yel- raising their voice at you. Turning to look at you and your trembling shoulders, he held what you said that was supposed to be for your ears only, echo a pain in his chest. Seeing you beat yourself up to reach someone’s standards hurts him, and witnessing you not even shed a tear for yourself hurt him even more

Shaking your head, you rubbed your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater and continued to jot down anything that seemed to be of importance

“Sugar?”

You jump a bit, not looking back you answered, “Yes, Koushi? Do you need anything?”

“Are you okay?”

You nod silently as your eyes kept trained on the textbook in front of you

Hearing some quiet shuffling, you froze a bit when you felt Sugawara’s arms hug your waist and his head laying on the crook of your shoulder

“I think you’re pretty great. Even when you don’t feel so, I hope you know that you’re important to me and you can never let me down. I love you, don’t you know that (Y/N)?”

((IM FUCKING VOMITING OMG I WANT HIMMMMMM ARHGABORBGYAOURGVAORY))

Oikawa Tooru x Reader

((Ah yes, another I want to pe-))

He knows, the feeling of not being enough and working hard to achieve your own expectations and everyone else’s

He knows the worth and hardwork to prove that you can be good enough

You were and are always there when he overworks himself and self-doubts and self-loathing hit hard for him

despite everything, you helped him set up a schedule and helped him time manage his busy schedule, so he’ll be able to feel accomplished of what he did and able to rest even if its for a little bit, then getting great power naps for in-between the days that he decides to push himself harder than usual

Iwaizumi has never been so thankful for your existence and genius mind ((Oh wow, even got my bb praising you huh))

When Oikawa sees you pushing yourself harder than usual, training and trying to balance your studies

He notices that he doesn’t see you often, nor does your friends either

Oikawa-boo now knows the struggle of HIMSELF

Is this what you and Iwa-chan go through? Endless worrying and less cuddles ?? (As if Iwa cuddles him,,, Oikawa has proof, so do Makki and Mattsun))

When he finally catches up to you, you look at him, slightly pale and shaking a bit from how much coffee and energy drinks you’ve consumed

“Babe, I haven’t been seeing you for a while, are you doing okay?”

You were immensely drained, even talking had been an effort, but Oikawa was your beloved boyfie

“Mhm.”

Oikawa frowns. “Have you been getting enough rest?”

“Mhm.”

“Did you eat lunch? Your friends say they haven’t seen you at their table.”

“Mm-mm.”

He cups your cheeks, brow furrowed and brown eyes filled with concern, “My lil-cutie, what’s going on?” He asked in the softest voice he can possibly muster. ((Possibly? Pretty setter squads are fuckin SMOOTH bitches to have soft voices. Yes, including Shirabu AND Kageyama. And Koganegawa. My HC, can’t change my mind, I take criticism but only if I'm ready to haunt you at 3AM))

“Mmm. Have to prove to my parents that I can be better. I need to show them that I can be something they can be proud of. I don’t wanna be a disappointment.” Your voice shakes a bit, it could be from the caffeine or the emotions building up when Oikawa asked you so sincerely if you were okay.

“Don’t wanna be an embarrassment either. You don’t deserve that. Wanna be a winner.” You muttered, looking away in shame and guilt that has been haunting you.

Pulling you into a hug, he laid his hand on your head and the other arm laid across your waist. “Listen to me. You think you can be better if you work yourself to death, that you forget about yourself and focus on reaching other people’s standards. Babe, if anything, you can prove them wrong when you are confident to tell them that what happened before and what’s happening now means that you’ve improved on yourself and your actions will speak for themselves. You can’t prove to them if you decided to forget to care for yourself and those who want to support you.”

Your tension in your body relaxed. He didn’t have practice today, or you would’ve smelled the excessive amount of cologne radiating of his body. Relaxing, your shaking minimized when you petted your hair and hugged you closer.

“You can never be an embarrassment to me, (Y/N). When you’re working so hard to care so much for others, that’s never an embarrassment. You’ll go so far I don’t know if I’m able to catch up to you.”

You weakly squeezed his side.

He chuckles. “We’ll always be winners, (Y/N). I mean, you won my heart, and that’s the greatest feat, yeah?”

You slapped his butt and he whined like a little bitch.

#akaashi keji x reader #akaashi x reader #akaashi x you #sugawara koshi x reader #sugawara x reader #sugawara koushi x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa x reader #oikawa x you #sugawara x you #oikawa tooru x you

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chilligyu · 3 years

Photo

info: im jaebum/reader, teen+, strangers to lovers au genre: soft angst, romance | word ct: 5.1k warnings: suggestive themes summary: for years, jaebum tried to forget the woman who broke his heart. little did he know that she wasn’t so easily forgotten, and that her face would haunt him at every turn. note: so I started this three years ago after listening to got7′s face for the first time and I’ve been editing it and forgetting it ever since. lol maybe someone will enjoy it

“Jaebum, I’m sorry.”

Okay.

“I really am.”

Okay.

“Please understand—”

Okay.

“Jae? Don’t just stand there.”

Okay.

“Please—please say something!”

Like what?

Jaebum didn’t know what she expected him to say, not after that. After she ripped out his heart.

“I don’t love you anymore, Jaebum. I’m sorry.”

She just stood there in the doorway, bag in hand, waiting for his response with tears in her eyes. He knew she was trying to stay strong, he could see her lip trembling as she held it between her teeth. How long would she wait there? How long would she bat her eyelashes at him innocently waiting for him to make it all okay? What did she even want from him? Forgiveness? Reassurance? Did she think that somehow an apology would make their breakup hurt any less?

“Goodbye, Seohyun.” He forced out through clenched teeth. “Thanks for everything.”

“Wait—Jaebum—!”

Closing the door on both her and their three year relationship, Jaebum couldn’t remember what he did next. He couldn’t remember clawing every photograph off the walls, he couldn’t remember how his fingers stung as they dug into the plaster. He couldn’t recall pulling every plate from their cabinets, he couldn’t recall how his feet bled when he stepped on the broken porcelain. He couldn’t recollect how much he hated the man who stared at him in the mirror, he couldn’t recollect how his fist destroyed the glass and how it finally reflected how he felt inside.

“I don’t love you anymore, Jaebum. I’m sorry.”

That was over a year ago. And it felt like an eternity to him. Looking at himself now, suit neatly pressed, shoes freshly shined, he didn’t see any semblance of the man from that night. After he destroyed everything that reminded him of her, as he saw the pictures of happier times reduced to embers in the fireplace, he made himself a promise. He swore that he would never let anyone ruin him so completely ever again. Steeling his heart and caging it in ice, he wouldn’t even give them the chance.

Never again.

“Jae?” Jinyoung inquired, knuckles rasping against Jaebum’s door. “We’re heading out for drinks, want to come with?”

He didn’t even look up from the reports he was filing. “Can’t. I’m busy.”

Jinyoung crossed his arms. “Shocker. You’re always busy.”

“That comes with being the boss.” Jaebum countered easily.

Rolling his eyes, Jinyoung leaned against the doorframe. “C’mon, Jae, just pretend you’re a regular guy and not an office robot for a couple of hours. Would it hurt to have a little fun?”

“Maybe. Socializing is against my programming.” Jaebum teased in a robot voice. “I cannot acquiesce to your request.”

“Dammit Jae.” Jinyoung sighed in disbelief. “Your humor is wasted in this tiny little room. Go out with us. Free yourself from the confines of this dastardly place. One night with the guys isn’t going to kill you. And if it does, I’ll buy lunch for a week. Scouts honor.”

Jaebum snickered quietly. “Alright, if it gets you to shut up I’ll go out for a couple of hours.”

“And do a couple of shots?” Jinyoung pressed hopefully.

“Don’t push your luck, Jin.” Jaebum chastised him, leering over his glasses. “I’ll have a glass of wine and that’s it.”

“I’ll take it.” Jinyoung shrugged. “We’re leaving in ten minutes. You want to catch a ride with me?”

Pursing his lips, Jaebum shook his head. “I’ve got to turn these in before I go. I’ll meet you there if you text me the address.”

Jinyoung narrowed his eyes at his friend suspiciously. “I swear to God, Jae, if you flake on us I’m going to come back here and kick your sorry ass.”

“Like you could take me.” Jaebum smirked. “Just go, I’ll be there soon. Promise.”

Jinyoung didn’t relent, his head dragging as he headed towards his own office. “I’ve got my eyes on you, Im Jaebum. You’re not going to fool me.”

“I’m not trying to fool you.” Jaebum informed him. “But if you keep bothering me I’m going to magically find a stack of financial statements that need to be filed. And who better to file them than my good buddy Park Jinyoung—”

“See you there!” Jinyoung interrupted, dashing down the hall like his heels were on fire. “I’ll text you!”

Chuckling at the expense of his friend, Jaebum leaned back in his chair and tapped his pen against his leg. He couldn’t remember the last time he went out just to go out. It had been too long since he was desperate for the numbing sensation of alcohol pulsing through his veins to simply function normally. The last time he could remember drinking he couldn’t recall anything that happened after. Not until he woke up in some woman’s bed that he didn’t bother to learn the name of. He wanted to feel bad, or at least some part of him did. Because she wasn’t the first, and she most certainly wouldn’t be the last.

Not tonight. He decided. Not this time.

When his phone lit up, a text message from Jinyoung waiting for him impatiently, Jaebum quickly got to work. As much as he tried to keep his stoic face in front of his friend, he needed to get out of the office. If he had to read another poorly written report littered with inaccuracies and spelling errors, he was going to lose his mind. Jinyoung’s offer could not have come soon enough.

By the time he was done, the sun was already starting to set. Cursing underneath his breath, Jaebum grabbed his coat and bolted out the door. Opting to take the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator, he checked the bus schedule while tugging on his gloves. Jinyoung had already been at the bar much longer than he’d like, meaning that Jaebum wasn’t going to get out of the night unscathed. Lucky for him he was always prepared for such occasions. The bottle of aspirin in his desk drawer and him were about to be fast friends.

“Jae!” Jinyoung screamed through the phone. “Where are you!”

Jaebum groaned loudly as he made it out to the street. “I’m sorry, I’m still at the office. But I’m leaving now, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“You better be!” Jinyoung continued. “Because I’ll—I’ll kick your ass if you’re not!”

“Shut up Jinyoung, you’re drunk.” He muttered, ending the call and stuffing his phone in his pocket.

Wrapping his scarf around his neck, Jaebum walked briskly to the bus station just down the block. Instantly regretting turning down Jinyoung’s offer for a ride when the cold winter air pelted his skin. Opening his eyes even the slightest caused his eyes to water, each step he took sent a chill down his spine, frost nipped at the tips of his ears, he could barely stand it.

As he waited less than patiently, Jaebum found himself watching the people that passed him. An elderly woman wearing a mismatched set of mittens, a small dog in a boorish sweater jogging along beside her. Two school boys fussing over a handheld video game, laughing jovially despite their harsh words. A young couple walking hand in hand, their eyes filled with affection and warmth, leaving Jaebum with a foul taste in his mouth.

“I don’t love you anymore, Jaebum. I’m sorry.”

Lighting a cigarette, he did his best not to think about Seohyun. About how she left him on a night just like this. How each kiss on her eager lips tasted like lies. How her brown eyes hollowed out his very soul. And how each promise she made cut him like knives. Jaebum had been trying to erase her from his life for a whole year. But no matter how much he drank, or how many women he kissed, he could still taste her on his tongue.

Even cigarettes do nothing to mask her taste. He mused, inhaling deeply and savoring the tobacco that filled his lungs.

When the bus pulled up to the curb, Jaebum dropped his unfinished cigarette in the street. Sighing, he tapped his foot impatiently as the doors opened and people spilled out onto the sidewalk. He had completely forgotten how cramped public transport could get during the winter. Another reason why he hated the desolate season. And Jinyoung’s persistent drunken text messages and calls weren’t helping his rapidly souring mood.

“What is it now, Jinyoung?” Jaebum exasperated, getting on the bus and swiping his card.

“Do you know that fish cake shop by the bar?” Jinyoung asked sluggishly. “The one that I really really like?”

Jaebum pinched the bridge of his nose as he found a seat at the back of the bus. “No, I do not. But I take it you want me to stop there?”

“Yeeeesss.” He dragged out. “I’m dying for a good fish cake.”

Sometimes I wonder how we’re friends. “Alright, fine, I’ll get you your stupid fish cake. How far away from the bar is the shop?”

“Not far at all!” Jinyoung exclaimed. “Just down the street a ways, you can’t miss it! Thanks Jae! You’re the best!”

Beep beep beep.

Pocketing his phone, Jaebum did his best not to let the night get away from him. He had to keep reminding himself that all of his problems could easily be solved with the bottle of scotch that was waiting at the bar. Jinyoung owed him, and getting free drinks out of him while he was drunk was an easy task for Jaebum. All of that was worth the annoying errands that his best friend was infamous for sending him on.

There’s a scotch on the rocks waiting for you. He told himself over and over again. Do it for the scotch. Scotch can get you through anything.

“Now approaching, Namdaemun Market. Thank you for choosing Seoul Public Transportation, have a nice day.”

As the bus rolled to a complete stop, Jaebum quickly stood and waited for the doors to open. Shouldering past the new borders, he apologized quietly, thankful to finally be off the cramped bus and back out on the street. Even if it was a bit colder than he remembered. Shivering, he pulled his lapel taught over his face, scanning his surroundings for the fish cake shop he was supposed to visit. What he found instead was a ghost from his past. A ghost with hair as black as the hole she gouged into his chest.

Seohyun? He swallowed nervously, his palms sweating despite the brisk December air. Is it really her? Please—please tell me that I’m seeing things.

It had to be her, he knew it deep down inside. He knew by the way his heart stopped, how his stomach sank, that it couldn’t be anyone else. But—his mind wasn’t so easily convinced. How could it be her? How could Lee Seohyun be standing right in front of him? Just as beautiful as the day she ripped out his heart without a care in the world. Waiting outside an electronics kiosk, a lollipop stick protruding from her perfect cherry red lips and a guitar slung over her shoulder as if—

A guitar? Jaebum questioned. Since when does Seohyun know how to—

Realization dawned on Jaebum almost instantly. His eyes were playing tricks on him, like they had so many times before. It wasn’t Seohyun, it would never be Seohyun. No matter how much a small miniscule part of him still wanted her back in his arms, she never would be his. The woman before him was simply his projection of something he would never have. Underneath his breath, Jaebum cursed himself for being hung up on her after all this time.

Still, his gaze didn’t waver as he watched the Seohyun look alike walk down the street. The resemblance was uncanny, had he been intoxicated he would’ve surely mistaken her for Seohyun. She even walked like her. The way her hips swayed—Jaebum couldn’t bring himself to look away. She was beautiful, breathtaking, mysterious, entrancing, the same dangerous formula that Jaebum became addicted to so easily.

For a brief moment, he couldn’t find the differences between them. From the way her dark hair fell languidly over her shoulders, the way her lips twitched into a hesitant smile, how her eyes glistened with a palpable passion. It was almost as if he was looking at a direct reflection of a memory. One he would’ve preferred to remain lost to time.

I need to get to this fish cake shop. Jaebum reminded himself. More importantly, I need to get the hell out of here.

Gathering his runaway thoughts, he started down the busy street, doing his best to avoid the mysterious woman. She was a reminder that he couldn’t afford to fall back into the hole that Seohyun cast him into. The man that loved Seohyun wasn’t one that Jaebum admired. In fact, he was a man that Jaebum tried time and time again to erase. And, until that exact moment, he thought he was doing a fair job of it.

“Get your fish cakes here! Best around!”

Jaebum’s ears perked up at the shouting vendor, appreciating the distraction more than he cared to admit. Besides, his head was in a complete haze ever since he spotted that woman. He wouldn’t have been able to find the shop on his own even if he ran right into the door. Which he practically did. The control Seohyun still had over him terrified him to no end. And he had only seen a woman who looked like her, it wasn’t even her. He shuttered to imagine what would’ve happened if she was really there. Whispering in his ear, her hands gliding up his body, the curves of her body beneath him—

“Jaebum…”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Jaebum willed her husky voice away. The shivers that travelled down his spine—he had to ignore them. He had to get away from her. Ducking into the shop, he quickly purchased the fish cakes and left without a word to the clerk. He feared his own voice, feared how it would betray him. The only thing that mattered to him was getting to the bar and as far away from her as possible.

Without really paying attention to where he was going, Jaebum shouldered past someone and sent them stumbling backwards. Unconsciously, he reached out to steady them, taking hold of their wrist and pulling them in close to him before realizing who it was. It was her. Her. Her slender wrists were within his grasp, her dark eyes looked up at him in surprise, and coherent thought evaded him.

“Thanks!” She exhaled, running a hand through her hair. “I really should look where I’m going.”

At that close distance she looked even more like Seohyun. Jaebum didn’t think it was physically possible, but the proof was right in front of him. The scent of her perfume filled his senses, taking him back to a time when her fragrance was the only thing between them. He tried to swallow past the lump in his throat, he tried to respond, he tried to say anything that could distract himself from her lips. Her perfectly shaped cherry red lips…

Brushing her hair over her shoulder, she offered him a dangerous look. “Not much of a talker, are you?”

Jaebum never made it to the bar that night.

He woke up the next morning tangled in sheets that weren’t his own. Lying beside him was the woman who unknowingly unravelled every effort he had made to forget about Seohyun. She made him painfully aware that his previous beliefs were nothing more than optimistic delusions. Jaebum hadn’t moved past her, not even in the slightest. He wasn’t sure if he ever would.

As was customary after every one night stand he stumbled into, he quickly pulled his clothes back on and quietly left her apartment without bothering to wake her. He called for a taxi, pointedly ignoring all of the angry texts and numerous voicemails left by Jinyoung as he made his way home. Jaebum wasn’t in the mood to explain himself. Ironically enough, all he wanted to do was drink. He settled for a silent ride through the city that was supposed to save him from himself, but he was beyond saving.

Days passed and he couldn’t shake the memory of Seohyun’s lookalike beneath him. She was a rarity, an anomaly that wandered into his life without any sort of warning. And as easily as she traipsed through his thoughts, she was gone. Frankly that was his own fault, he did it for his own good but it didn’t matter to him. He wanted her, he wanted more, his body ached for her in a way that was all too familiar. He sat at his desk, fists clenched in rage, hating himself for falling back into his old ways. All he wanted was a life without Seohyun, he wasn’t sure it was possible anymore.

At first, he was determined to stay away from her. He willed his thoughts and memories to the back of his mind, trying to get on with his life once more. But it wasn’t so simple. He found himself back on that street corner without realizing how he got there just a few nights later. Diligently looking for the cherry red lips that stained his own and drove him wild.

He would always find his way back to her.

“Did you miss me?”

She came up beside him with a coy smirk, she already knew his answer.

“Still not much of a talker, are you?”

Soon after they would wind up in bed again, as it was slowly becoming their routine. Jaebum had never felt more connected to a complete stranger, someone who could’ve easily gone through life without ever meeting him. He had Seohyun back, in some way. Like a ghost from the past letting him have one last glance at what could’ve been. He could’ve been happy, he was happy. Now he didn’t know what he was. All he knew was her because that was all he wanted to know. And he wanted to know more.

On the first day he learned her lips, on the second day he learned her name.

On the third day she learned his.

“Jae...” She breathed beneath him, desperate for him as he was for her. “Please…”

He loved how she said his name. It pained him that he couldn’t say hers.

“Jae.” She tested on her tongue. “You called me Seohyun again.”

He watched absentmindedly as her delicate fingers dusted over his skin, offering nothing more than a quiet, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She mused. “I just need to know, someone you’re running from or running to?”

“I don’t love you anymore, Jaebum. I’m sorry.”

“Both.”

She visibly winced at his honesty. “Well, I hope I can help with that a little.”

And she did. Her lips pressed against his jaw as her hand slid down his abdomen, he hissed in response and took her in his arms. She was—magic. The second his mind would be occupied by thoughts of Seohyun she would pull him in with her own hypnotic gaze, letting him forget about the woman that brought them together in the first place. It didn’t last for long, but the reprieve was appreciated nevertheless.

On the fourth day he called her Seohyun again. The fifth day was the same.

On the sixth day he said her name and she smiled.

He lost track of the days after that.

The moment their relationship stopped being casual and became something more wasn’t entirely obvious to Jaebum. One day he simply woke up and instead of hoping to see her again soon he decided that soon wasn’t enough. They started to see each other every single day, some of those days didn’t end up in bed either. Maybe that’s when he noticed that she was more to him than he originally intended. Maybe that’s when he knew he was doomed to be in love with Seohyun for the rest of his life. Forever seeking her out in the woman he had hoped would make him forget.

One morning when she was gathering her things, giving Jaebum the space he had so foolishly convinced himself he needed, he asked her to stay. So she stayed. He couldn’t ever remember things with Seohyun being so simple. Seohyun was a woman that made Jaebum fight for every inch, beg for every moment, he was addicted to her and didn’t realize how quickly she was killing him. While he didn’t want to admit it, the moment she left him was probably the kindest thing she had ever done.

But she was perfect and he still loved her.

He hated himself, as he spent more time with her and could only see Seohyun in her eyes, he hated himself. He had hoped that they would separate, that he would see her for her and not for the woman he hated and loved all at once. Because she was perfect just as Seohyun was, all he had to do was wait for the inevitable. Either he would get fed up with her or she would realize the truth. She would learn that she was a replacement for someone that wasn’t worth replacing. Someone he evidently couldn’t let go.

“You look like you have a lot on your mind.” She whispered, dusting her fingers over his arm. “Do you want to talk about it?”

What hurt him most, was that she loved him. She loved him. Not some version of him that only existed as a ghost in her mind, as a lie she couldn’t give up. She loved him for exactly who he was. A man who looked at her and saw another, who reached for her everyday, who was haunted by a touch that was forever ingrained in his skin. He was disgusted by the man she loved, by himself. But if he ever told her the truth, he knew it would break her heart.

Break her like Seohyun destroyed him.

And then she would be gone.

So he would continue to lie to her, betray her no matter how much his own words tore him up inside. A sensation that was all too familiar, one he knew better than most after knowing Seohyun for as long as he did. Ironically, he was just like her. Selfish to the very end.

“I’m alright.” He lied easily as always.

Except she wasn’t convinced, not in the slightest. She had never been convinced of his lies, he could tell just by looking at her that she was enduring his facade as much as he was. Pretending to be fooled so they could continue in blissful ignorance. Because she knew his heart better than even he did, a heart that had long since been locked away. Because she loved him despite everything that he was. And everything that he wasn’t.

It was close to their anniversary when he decided that enough was enough. She had introduced him to her friends, her parents, and he had done the same. Their lives had become intertwined to a point that severing their ties could only result in a catastrophic mess. He had to come clean, he had to put his heart at ease and end the nightmare he almost believed was a dream. He had to let Seohyun go, he had to let her go. Once and for all he had to free himself from her grasp and break a heart that belonged to a woman whose only mistake was running into a man in a fish cake shop.

“I don’t love you anymore, Jaebum. I’m sorry.”

His heart ached as he thought about that day, hated how much his own actions would soon imitate that very moment. Looking at someone who loved you with everything that they had and telling them that it was all over. That you never loved them. That everything was a lie. That you were nothing but a monster.

God I need a drink.

So to put a bit of distance between them, to gather his thoughts, he went to the bar that technically started it all. He ordered his usual drink, he pretended to watch a game that didn’t interest him, and he sat in silence as the moments ticked by. Every now and again the bartender would try to strike up a conversation, but after being ignored for the fifth time he finally gave up. Jaebum wasn’t in the mood to pretend to be a decent human being, it was taking every concerted effort he could afford to keep himself from falling apart at the seams.

And despite the fact that he had been sitting at the bar with two fingers of scotch in front of him for nearly an hour, he had yet to take a single sip. He kept swirling it in his hand instead, using it more as a distraction from his rampant thoughts than a means to soothe his agitated nerves. As much as he wanted to get the whole ordeal over with, he couldn’t get drunk. He had been selfish enough in the past year, he had to endure the next few hours sober because she deserved more than what she was given. She deserved more respect than he had ever offered her. And he deserved the misery he was destined for.

Once a couple of hours had passed, he decided it was time to face her. She would be starting dinner soon and he didn’t want her to waste her time. Not when he was going to be effectively kicking her out of his life forever. With a sigh, he put on his jacket to leave and pushed his untouched drink back towards the bartender. Then, a young woman took a seat beside him.

“Why don’t you let me join you for a drink?” She hummed seductively. “You’re looking a little stressed.”

For fucks sake. “Thanks, but no thanks.” He returned without looking at her. “I’ve got better things to do.”

Apparently she wasn’t giving up so easily. “Is that anyway to talk to a pretty girl like me?”

Glancing at her, he wasn’t impressed. “Sorry, but I have somewhere I need to be. Drink by yourself if you’re so inclined.”

As he stood to leave, she took a firm grasp of his arm. “Jaebum? Are you seriously going to ignore me? Are you really that cruel?”

He rolled his eyes at her continued pathetic attempts. “You even learned my name, wow. How long have you been watching me?”

Turning back to look at her, he realized there was something familiar about her. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. But that didn’t matter to him.

“Seriously, I’m not on the market.” He persisted. “Good day.”

“Jaebum!” She shouted in disbelief. “Do you seriously not recognize me? We dated for three fucking years, I feel like I’m owed more than a cold shoulder. Or are you the complete asshole you’ve always been?”

A chill ran down his spine.

“Don’t just stand there!”

No… it—it can’t be… that voice...

“Say something!”

Seohyun?

Realization dawned on him, stomach acid rose in his throat. It had to be her, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind after hearing her say that. Those words, nearly those exact words were seared into his soul ages ago. That voice berated him for years. There was no way he would ever mistake that voice for anyone else. But—she didn’t look like the Seohyun he remembered. The mere sight of her didn’t drive him mad, he didn’t have to fight back the urge to throw himself at her feet. She was Seohyun without the best and the worst parts of her.

She wasn’t the woman he loved.

Not anymore.

“Wow…” He exhaled with a smile. “You’ve really changed, haven’t you.”

Which, now that the initial shock had worn off, he realized that she was the exact same. Painfully so. Her nails were freshly manicured, her hair and makeup were set perfectly in place, her clothes were fresh off the runway, she was Seohyun in every sense of the word. Perfectly plucked from time and placed in front of him. She was everything he thought he loved. Before he learned what love really looked like. And god it didn’t look like her.

“And you haven’t changed at all.” She huffed. “Still the rude asshole I dumped forever ago. I can’t believe I doubted myself for a second there, spotting you across the bar made it seem like the good old times. But I really made the right call, didn’t I?”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “You really did. Goodbye, Seohyun. Thanks for everything.”

She scoffed as he left. “Yeah, whatever.”

After that, Jaebum didn’t hesitate. He took off running for the bus stop, desperate to get home to a woman that he had loved for a whole year and just didn’t know it. He had been so sure that the love he felt for her was just a projection, that she only reminded him of Seohyun so that was the only reason he loved her. Never in all his life had he been happier to be wrong.

I love her… He chanted in his head, over and over again. I love her!

Once he got home, he burst through the door and stopped immediately when he saw her standing there. How had he never noticed before? She was beautiful, she was perfect, she was the woman he loved with his whole heart and he was a fool for not knowing sooner. She made him laugh, she made him smile, she made him forget about Seohyun a hundred times and even wiped her from his heart forever. And he was the idiot who thought it was all a lie.

“What’s wrong, Jaebum?” She asked innocently. “Is something on your mind?”

“Yes.” He confirmed easily, approaching her slowly and taking her hands in his. “I’ve done a lot of thinking, a lot of soul searching this past year, trying to make sense of my feelings for you. And I think I finally know what my brain has been telling me since the very beginning.”

There was a nervous glint to her eyes, but she played along. “What would that be?”

“That I love you.” He smiled. “I love you for being you and no one else.”

Those words, those simple words that wouldn’t make any sense to someone else, made her face light up like a fireworks display. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face into his chest, overwhelmed with a feeling he knew all too well. For the first time in four years, Jaebum could breathe. A huge weight had lifted from his shoulders, the ghost of Seohyun was finally gone. He was free.

“I love you too…” She mumbled. “I’ve loved you for so long…”

“I know.” He whispered gently, tilting her chin up and kissing her gently. “And I will thank you everyday for waiting for me.”

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