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burnedbyshoto · 4 years ago

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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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sneezefiction · 4 years ago

Text

answers

oikawa x reader

desc: oikawa changes some lyrics in taylor swift’s song “love story”

a/n: please keep in mind that most of this is just humorous & there’s no serious characterization in this particular story. i laughed a lot while writing it :,,) for @cutiekawa because you gave me the idea; thank you for that! and also for @seroto-rin because this is very similar to your husband’s lyric changing habits lol – i still laugh whenever i think about it <3 warnings: language, mentions drinking/being drunk

wc: 3k

— It’s 2 am when you hear Oikawa pattering down the hallway and past your room. From the gentle footsteps and the occasional whisper of “shit” when the floor creaks, it's obvious that he’s trying to stay quiet.

But his attempts are in vain because, one, you’re wide awake and, two, he’s just knocked over an empty beer can from earlier. It was probably the one he’d left on the hall table – you’d told him to throw it away but he’d refused saying that he’d “throw it away in the morning when his arms weren’t so tired.”

This is just karma.

The clatter of the aluminum on wooden floors echoes throughout the dorm. A much louder, especially frustrated, “fuck” follows right after it.

The word, though crass, sounds deceptively attractive on his tongue. But most things Oikawa-related just happen to be attractive.

You muffle your laughter with a blanket. He’s probably disoriented from the alcohol – it’s only been an hour and 5 drinks each since you both called it a night. You’d headed straight to bed but he’d fallen asleep on the couch where you left him, hair a-mess and lips parted.

But, for someone who used to stay out till daybreak on weekends, he’s spent most Fridays hanging out with you instead.

This weekend was no different.

Oikawa ordered Thai takeout, you found a mindless Netflix series to binge, both of you had a little too much to drink, laughter ensued, the doe-eyed boy found his head in your lap, and…

You pull a face – one that goes unseen because of the dark, but you make it anyway.

Okay, that last part was a little different.

He’d had his head in your lap.

His head… in your… lap.

And, if you’re not mistaken (or delirious), you’d had your hands in his hair, twirling strands and tracing circles at the base of his neck. A foggy image of him gazing up at you with softened eyes, deep chocolate in color, begins to solidify.

That lazy smile, a hand on your thigh, tresses tickling your skin...

You turn over in your bed, bunching up your sheets and holding them close to you like a shield of fabric — a flimsy, make-shift defense against tipsy mind-wandering. It isn’t very effective.

Your brain is not wandering but racing around this hand-in-hair realization.

Like an iron rod poking at hot embers, these prodding memories make your cheeks grow hotter by the millisecond. You bury your face in your pillow, embarrassment tight in your throat.

Somehow you’d forgotten that he’d practically climbed into your lap. You’re not in the clear quite yet, but your brain is functioning well enough that it wishes you’d had a little more to drink – just enough to forget about it entirely. You starfish out on your bed, arms and legs dramatically splayed across the mattress.

Do (hot, charming, charismatic, windswept) flatmates usually get this... cuddly? Is that normal?

Does Iwaizumi wrap his arms around his roomies after a long day and a few bottles? How about Mattsun? Makki…?

Okay, no, none of them really seem like the type to get up close and personal with their roommates without good reason. Well, maybe Makki, but he’d do it to be a pain in the ass – not to charm the living-hell out of someone.

You try to take in a deep breath and wrap your head around what this means for you… but end up inhaling a feather from your pillow instead. As you hack and cough, you try to smother the noise in more cloth material – you really didn’t need him coming into your room, much less leaning over your bed to check on you.

Oikawa is messing with your head.

If you knew any better, you’d have run away screaming the moment he’d asked you to room with him. No one that pretty and charismatic is good news. At least, not when it comes to shared housing.

But, here you are, writhing under the covers and hot like a fever all because he couldn’t keep to himself. Screw him and his charming smile for putting you in this position.

He either knows you’re crushing like he’s the last man on earth or he’s blissfully unaware and way too physically affectionate for his own good.

You don’t dare consider that he likes you back though. Only deer and Olympic athletes made leaps like that. Oikawa had too many admirers… an irritating amount.

The blankets scrunch even tighter between your fists, likely thanking their maker that they don’t have nerve endings.

Every fiber of your being is begging to know if these feelings are reciprocated. You’d hate to live out the rest of this semester knowing the boy down the hall may not like you back. Worse, that he finds out you think he’s hot shit and doesn’t like you back – that would be unrequited love at its finest.

But, with a degree and your mental health on the line, why should you care about such minor, itty bitty, pointless details.

This isn’t that big a deal.

And even if he did like you back? Well, Oikawa isn’t someone you can simply “pin down.” He comes with a distinctive, dramatic personality and a meddling side. Not to mention, he’s already the embodiment of chaos – he’s proven this to be true over the past 4 months he’s lived with you.

There’s a familiar squeak of the shower faucet handle and the hiss of hot water. You jump at the sound.

Maybe he’d forgotten, but your bedroom shares a very thin wall with the bathroom. Though you recall him saying he wanted to take a shower earlier, so you guess that he’s only just remembered.

You pick up your phone, blue light casting a less-than angelic glow on your sleepy face. You pray that TikTok will have some sort of life-changing “I’m in love with my hot, crazy flatmate” advice. Or that it will distract you from your inner turmoil. Either would be appreciated but the latter seems more likely.

Scrolling slowly, you get through about 3 videos before something else catches your attention.

There’s a deep reverberation buzzing through your wall. A gentle hum, much like a shower-concert lullaby.

But the noise is getting louder. And the humming? A lot more lyrical.

You shift into a sitting position, propping yourself up with your hands. With your side sunken into a pillow, you press your ear against the cool drywall. Your ears tune into the sound.

Oikawa, voice confident and free, is… singing.

“...But you were everything to me, I was begging you ‘please don’t go’…”

But he’s not just singing.

“And I said…”

He’s belting Taylor Swift with the enthusiasm of an 11-year-old Swiftie super-fan. Like the world would end if he didn’t put enough passion into this performance. Like the showerhead is his microphone and the surrounding tiles are his adoring audience.

“Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone. I'll be waiting; all that's left to do is run...”

Most people would be pissed if their friend were singing in the shower at 2 am… but you can’t find it in yourself to be anything but enamored.

God, you hate him for doing this right now. Hate that he’s inadvertently endearing you to him. Hate that, no matter what you do, he’s somehow always there.

Pressed up against you on the couch, meeting you for dinner at his favorite restaurant, fussing at each other over a shitty cup of coffee in your even shittier kitchen, calling you when he needs somebody to keep him company at the library…

“You'll be the prince & I'll be the princess…”

And now he’s accidentally serenading you with Taylor’s “Fearless” album. In the shower.

You facepalm, sinking into your hands, exasperated and just so… done.

You sink back down into the bedsheets, wishing your earbuds were nearby to drown out the regrettably adorable performance.

“It's a love story y/n, just say ‘Yes.’”

And your heart drops, panic setting in like the touch down of a whirling tornado. A fire tornado. A fire tornado with frogs and lizards and sharp objects spinning around inside of it.

What… did he just say?

The lyrics… they were muffled. You definitely heard them incorrectly. You… you just need to get your ears checked. Yes, that’s it. That’s all there is to it. You’ll schedule an appointment first thing tomorrow morning.

Because who the fuck sings like that at 2 am in a shared dorm? And who the fuck puts someone else’s name into a song like that? No one? Yes, no one.

Especially not the Oikawa Tooru.

And especially not with your name.

Because that’s just... weird.

The grip on your phone is mighty – thank God for durable glass because any other material would’ve splintered or shattered in your hold.

But what the hell.

“Y/n, save me, I've been feeling so alone,” he sings as though he were Beyoncé’s son.

This time it’s clear as day. Oikawa is definitely still out of it and he’s undoubtedly singing your name.

No, no, no.

“I keep waiting for you but you never come…”

You bolt out of bed, feet hitting the floor at lightning-strike speed.

“Is this in my head? I don't know what to think,”

In one swift movement, you fling the bedroom door open and rush down the hall. You shouldn’t be listening to this.

“He knelt to the ground & pulled out a ring, and said...”

And before you can stop your hand, it’s knocking rapidly on the bathroom door.

There’s a gasp, what you assume to a bar of soap hitting the shower floor, and an abrupt silence that follows.

You’d only wanted to stop him from singing.

However, you hadn’t thought through what you were going to say to him about this whole... lyrical mess. Your face feels like the surface of the sun, burning and flaring and flushing. What are you supposed to do now?

Oikawa speaks up, voice quiet, “Hello?”

Shit.

Maybe if you’re careful you can get yourself out of this. Just act like you didn’t hear anything and bring it up tomorrow when you’re both thinking straight. A thorough and sober discussion would be needed.

You had questions. Questions that needed answers.

Why did he have his head in your lap? Had you said anything to him that you’d regret later? Does he like you? Where should you two place your boundaries if he doesn’t like you back? And why Taylor Swift?

“Y/n, is that you?” He asks, nonchalantly.

Who else would it be?

The handle squeaks and, with that, the water stops. Only the gentle swirl of the drain and the occasional drips and drops from the showerhead are audible.

It’s too late. You’re already there. You’ve knocked and, in doing so, you’ve sealed your fate.

“...Yes,” is your whisper of a reply.

“What’s up? Was I too loud for you?”

You’ve got the entire building on high-alert singing that loudly.

...is what you would say if you weren’t currently imploding. This is like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. And nothing you ever want to experience again.

“Um, yeah, sorry.” You look down at your shuffling feet.

The hallway is pitch black, hardly allowing for even a mere shadow. Rushing out of your room, you’d forgotten to turn on even a single light.

You hear him step onto the tile floor and the rustle of a tower from the bathroom closet.

“Wait, can we talk?” He asks as though it weren’t the question of the fucking year. “I mean, preferably after I get out of the bathroom.” There’s a lack of tact to his words.

This isn’t the charming Oikawa you’re used to. This is a blunt… confusingly straightforward Oikawa.

His tone wavers like maybe he’d had a little more to drink than you’d last remembered. Your memory was proving to be disappointingly unreliable tonight.

You swallow thickly, “Sure.”

Because what else can you say?

“Can I stop by your room in a minute?”

You take a deep breath, “Yeah.”

And you patter back to your no-longer very safe haven. Oikawa is about to infiltrate your space… with your permission. And the weapons he’ll bring will either harpoon you or leave you emotionally paralyzed – whether that emotional paralysis is a good or bad thing will be decided in the near future.

Your bed, though soft and blanket-covered, looks far less appealing now. It may as well be a bed of nails because you would rather hide beneath it than sit atop it.

But you sit anyway, letting the mattress dip and the springs twang.

The bathroom door cries as it opens, putting you on edge. Your heart is pounding like a drum at a summer festival – hotter and louder with every beat.

The trod of footsteps tells you he’s approaching and, sure enough, the open door reveals Oikawa.

With only a lamp to brighten the space, he’s more contoured than usual. His hair is wet and heavy against his head, taking on an even darker brown than before. You’ve seen him fresh out of the shower before, but this… is different. Oikawa’s shirt sticks to his chest slightly – he must’ve thrown it on without drying off fully to get to you faster.

He takes a few steps into your room, choosing to lean his back against a wall next to your work desk. Oikawa brings his hands behind his back, pressing his weight into them. Brown eyes flicker from you to the wall behind you and back again.

Naturally, tension lays thick as a fog in the air space.

“Hey, I’m…”

You cut him off, “You don’t have to say sorry! It’s… it’s okay.”

Oops, you’d said that a little too loud. Not that it mattered much after Oikawa’s passionate performance.

An eyebrow raises and confusion sparks across his face. Your body freezes.

He brings a hand behind his neck. “Oh, I was just gonna say that I’m still kinda drunk.”

You knew that much. Though you really thought he’d say something other than that. Preferably something about the, uh, devoted love-song?

Why is he acting so casual right now? Is this even Tooru? Had he read too many alien conspiracies and been abducted for learning too much about extraterrestrials?

Maybe he doesn’t realize you’d even heard him say your name in the shower.

“Oh... right.” You say slowly, lips staying parted at the end of your sentence.

“Which… probably isn’t good for either of us,” Different words drawl out and there’s a soft slur to some syllables, but at least he’s easy to understand, “me drinking too much, I mean.”

“Yeah,” you mutter.

“I think we should both just go to bed then.”

Your chest tightens. Of course, you want answers.

They’re likely embarrassing, face-reddening, Taylor Swift-centric answers. But you want them, nonetheless.

Although, it’s probably for the best that you don’t bring this up tonight. It was all probably a joke or a harmless accident – and, anyway, he admitted to being drunk.

“Right.”

“But I think you should know that I like you. A lot.”

“Yeah,” you respond again, automatically.

There’s another heavy silence. The pretty boy just stares at you, cherry colors tinting his cheeks but showing no expression of fear or embarrassment. You stare back, processing his words at turtle-like speeds.

The words tumble out, “Wait, say that again?” You double back, your own face reheating to its earlier temperature.

“I’m gonna be mad at myself in the morning if I don’t leave right now. And I really need to stop listening to that stupid song,” Oikawa says to himself.

“But I wanted to see how you would respond if I changed the lyrics,” the words are pointed back at you again.

He stands up, feet moving slowly toward the doorway. Did he just… completely ignore your question?

Your jaw drops, “Did…” you can hardly speak.

Clearing your throat, you try again, focusing intently on your words, “...did you mean for me to hear you?”

“...Maybe.” He draws out the “e,” looking back at you.

That’s it. He’s lost his fucking mind. You’re going to strangle him.

No TikTok advice could have prepared you for the monstrosity that is Oikawa Tooru. How Iwaizumi put up with that... that child for all these years, you have no idea.

You have to make a note of sending him a “get well” card, because nobody could be mentally okay after dealing with him for that long.

“B- but… why? What?” You stammer out, back stiff as a board.

“You like me don’t you?” He tilts his head, hair flopping cutely with it.

You gape like a fish, mouth opening and closing.

And it’s not that you don’t want to respond.

It’s that you can’t. You have no words. You vocal chords are on a panic-induced lockdown.

Because he knew.

He knew this entire time. Which you thought he might, but that doesn’t make the situation any less infuriating.

“And I like you back.”

You’re dumbfounded. You can’t think. This is ridiculous.

You open your mouth once more but he has no intention of continuing this conversation.

“Sleep well!” Without further comment, Oikawa flashes you a sleepy smile and begins scampering back to his room after having wreaked havoc on your poor heart.

Your voice comes back just in time for you to wake up the entire building once more,

“No, you get your ass back here and explain yourself!”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa #oikawa x reader #oikawa scenarios #oikawa imagines #seijoh #what did i just write #this is gonna go under: 'things i gave up my sleep for'#ughsjdljlds'ldsdjd #also #i dont like the term crack fic anymore? so i think just calling it humorous is... a good way to go #goodnight yall #queued up!

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embrassemoi · 4 years ago

Text

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 17

Pairings: Sirius B, Remus L, [F]Reader Content: Language, possible errors A/N: slight head-hopping

Masterlist: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter 17: The Stalking Map

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January 31st, 1976 | 11:30 pm

“Move your arse over!” Lily whispered. Moments after the lights went out, she crawled out of bed, her silky nightgown dragged across the floor as she walked over to Y/N. In one hand, she held a pillow, the other, Toulouse.

Y/N giggled, scooting over. “Can't get enough of me?”

“Hush! You know what I mean,” she blushed. Lily slipped in, the bed dipped as she wiggled around, making herself comfortable. But the small size didn’t help as they were slightly cramped together, leaving little space for either girl to move. Y/N made a note to herself to charm her bed so it’d be larger.

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February 2nd, 1976 | 12:23 am

“You really shouldn’t cram studying like this.”

A candle burned brightly inside their closed curtain drapes as Y/N continued to stress over an upcoming test.

“You’re smart — but you’re lucky if you manage a troll.”

“Be anymore encouraging, will you?” Y/N muttered out sarcastically.

Lily rolled her eyes, getting up from her pretzel seated position as her hand reached out, disappearing beyond the curtain drapes. Leaning over and supporting herself by gripping the bed frame, she grabbed a coffee pot and two teacups, pouring a steaming amount into each. She handed her one, Lily’s eyes squinted, her tongue poking out in thought before beginning. “So, five birds will be ejected from the wand with a blue light…”

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February 4th, 1976 | 1:12 am

They stared at each other for a moment before Lily’s mouth twitched upwards. The silence only lasted for a few beats before they both erupted into roaring laughter so strong that they had to lean into each other to prevent themselves from rolling off the bed.

“No. You. Didn’t!” Y/N exclaimed.

“What was I supposed to do? Not punch him?!” “Precisely!”

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February 5th, 1976 | 10:59 pm

Lily danced, jumping around on her bed. Her bright hair bounced around wildly whilst Y/N held her wand, pretending it was a microphone. One earbud was in Lily’s ear, the other in hers.

‘Yes, I’ve been brokenhearted!’ They mouthed to each other, despite there being a silencing spell around Lily’s bed.

‘Blue since the day we parted,

Why? Why? Did I ever let you go?

Mamma Mia now I really know!’

Y/N took her hands, pretending to play chords as if she were in front of an actual piano, mimicking the erratic backtrack. Lily shook with laughter before she slowly sank onto the bed as her hair sprawled out.

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February 9th, 1976 | 12:17 am

“Ginger —”

“I consider that harassment and bullying. Do you know how many detentions I can give you?”

“Haha — ginger.”

“Ten points from Gryff —” “No —” “TWENTY POINTS FROM —” “I’M SORRY!”

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February 11th, 1976 | 1:37 am

“What do you wanna know?” She whispered.

Speckles of starlight slipping through the cracks of their drapes. Lily, for whatever reason, seemed restless. It always seemed like whenever it was extremely early in the morning, there was a change in Lily’s demeanour.

Lily averted her gaze, biting her bottom lip, “Tell me a secret.”

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February 12th, 1976

After almost two weeks of their almost nightly rendezvous, they’d gotten closer than they have in the past six months and it seemed like Lily knew her better than she did at times.

Lily was practically bouncing off the walls. Every day, she seemed to become more radiant, happier, bubblier and Y/N couldn’t help but wonder what caused such a spike in her mood.

The redhead wove their way out of the bustling crowd, her arm linked with Y/N’s. She’d caught a few times, Lily looking at her every now and then before she seemed to stare for a little longer than what was considered polite. She’d forced a cough, fiddling with a strand of hair with her free hand; looking everywhere — or at anything, but her.

Sometimes Y/N felt and sounded like a broken record.

Repeating her thoughts over and over again, analyzing herself and the people around her; overthinking causing loads of unanswered questions… It was a problem that she didn’t know how to switch off.

Sometimes, it’d become too overwhelming, even to the point of tears in frustration and the constant overthinking. It would start with a flicker of interest, morphing into a spiral of questions, then irritation before spreading through her veins like a wildfire, spiking with anxiousness or fury. But recently, her over-thinking wasn’t necessarily overwhelming or maddening, this time it was purely curious. It was as if she blinked an eye; suddenly Lily would be acting fine — normal to becoming strange and skittish within mere seconds.

Perhaps it was stress?

February began and the workload for the OWLs was beginning to wear down on everyone. To be dramatic, every day became a blur, all merging into one blob: wake up, head down to the hall, class, lunch, class, study — then become too overwhelmed from studying and have the urge to cry or yell, dinner, study more, then sleep. With hardly any time to retain the information and the OWLs set to start late May, Y/N’s main goal was to memorize every bit of information rather than learn what it meant; that was for another time.

Whenever the fifth or seventh years weren’t in class, they were studying in the library, the hallways, even at dinner or lunch. It was so busy that the Marauders made it a point to swing by — even Mary and Marlene were becoming frequent visitors too. Mostly, they studied, but other times it ended with Lily constantly threatening James with detention (which he already received one and lost around forty house points after starting a small fire — which nobody knew how it even happened), Peter brought baked goods but ended up spilling a cup of tea over his notes and robes; Sirius and Marlene often mucked around while Y/N and Remus begun migrating to the common room after Pince threatened to throw them all out (and honestly, they were tired with everyone else’s shit).

And it had been taking a toll on Lily. She’d lost sleep and was slightly more agitated when it came to those around her and overall seemed to become quieter than usual.

Yeah, it was probably stress, but it didn’t answer her happy mood. Whatever it was, it looked good on her.

That day, they decided to eat lunch away from the Great Hall. They sat on a nearby window ledge, watching students idly as they passed back and forth, all having their own little lives. Y/N’s back was pressed against the window, her knees bunched together as Lily guessed the lives of people around them.

Young students, old students, some smiling, some frowning. Usually, Hogwarts was almost too overbearing. The swarm of bodies clung together like magnets, hard to separate, hard to pull yourself away from because soon enough, you’ll be roped into another set of magnets. While Hogwarts had been smaller in size and population compared to Ilvermorny, you could never catch a break here.

But, in times like these, they were able to come down from the high. It was fascinating and oddly calm; the noise, the chatter, it all became background noise.

And like a magician, Remus popped out, walking towards them. Lily waved Remus down, inviting him to sit with them. Although, Peter wasn’t that far behind as he came bouncing up behind. A few people waved to him, he’d even stopped a few times to catch up with a few students that passed.

Remus took the free seat next to Y/N, Peter next to Lily.

“Bloody cold here,” Peter said, rubbing his shoulder up and down, handing each girl a muffin before Remus, but he declined, waving around a small bag of blackberries.

Lily and Peter quickly fell into a conversation while she and Remus turned to talk. His leg brushed against hers before ripping away quickly. Even with just the slightest touch, Remus was a furnace. Y/N quickly looked up to him, their eyes meeting shortly. Her eyebrow curled up at him, wondering why he was so warm; had he been sick? He didn’t look bad…

She hadn’t been spending that much time with him as of late, aside from the study groups. But he smiles broadly. There was a weariness on his face that seemed to have chased away immediately. “Noon.”

“Noon! How have you been?”

His smile turns even brighter, so much as he could rival the stars. There’s a certain playfulness in his eyes, devilishly and sly. He looks too eerily like James, but it only tells her that he’d come up with another prank recently.

“Great,” there is amusement in his voice, so smug, so confident. “Came up with a new prank idea.”

Bloody knew it, as he’d would say.

“Tell me about it.”

“Well, let’s just say that there’s going to be a lot of dungbombs, Polyjuice potions and probably explosions.”

“Explosions?!”

“You’ll see.” Again, sounding so confident and smug. It put a smile on her face. “So what about you?”

Her mind racks around for a while; nothing much has happened recently; she’s stumped.

He considers her for a moment with a soft gaze, completely understanding. “We’re planning to mix in Polyjuice potion with pumpkin juice on Valentine's day at dinner. When the person drinks it; they should turn into who they fancy.”

“So where do the explosions come in?”

Remus gives a deep chuckle, “Now I can’t give away all my secrets, can I?”

But before she could make a witty retort, perhaps even convincing him to spill his deets, Peter calls out to Remus, pointing discreetly to a girl looking at them directly from the other side of the corridor. They all recognized her from the study group, a fourth year that comes on Wednesdays. She waved over to them — well, actually just at Remus as her other hand grasped an item behind her back.

He waves over, hesitantly getting up, “I’ll be back.

This wasn’t unusual — since he ran most of the fifth year groups, Remus constantly had younger students approach him in the halls. Although, they were all starstruck; after all, he was tall, a bit scary and a part of the oh so intimidating Marauders.

Their eyes were glued to his back as they watched the interaction play out. The girl tipped back and forth on her feet, swaying as she shyly looked up to him. She went on to a small monologue before pulling out a heart-shaped box of chocolates and holding it in front of herself.

Lily sucked in a sharp breath, a hand flying to her mouth to prevent giggling to seep out and the young girl overhearing, but it was out of entertainment rather than any malicious intent. Remus, however, did not look too phased, however, gave a pitiful smile, thanking the girl for her confession but letting her down softly. Within a second, the girl’s face contorted, her eyes swelling up with thick tears as she threw the chocolate box at Remu’s chest — but missed, scattering to the ground, as she bolted down the corridor.

“Blimey,” Peter breathed out, “That’s the third one this week. He’s going to beat Sirius for Valentine’s day confessions at this rate.”

“Well this is awkward,” Remus said, coming back to the group. He had picked up the box, an uncomfortable grimace on his face as he turned it around. Y/N looked up at him; he was flustered, unsure what to do. So, she patted his shoulder, gaining his attention and slid the box out of his hands and cracked it open; they were all sorts of different chocolate, milk, white, dark, truffles, shavings, even some had coconut while others were biscuits covered in it. It was intended for Valentine's day judging by the intricate and soft velvety packaging but she assumed that poor girl simply couldn’t refrain.

Yeah, she definitely should’ve waited — or not have said anything, but at least she had nerve. It felt like Y/N lacked the so-called Gryffindor trait often, so if anything, she applauded that fourth year.

The group looked at her oddly as Y/N shrugged, plopping a piece into her mouth. “What? Expensive chocolate is still expensive chocolate.”

She took the box, stretching her hand out, offering it to the group.

“Nu-uh,” Lily blurted, her wands waved out in front of her, “There’s no way I’m eating that.”

“Why?”

“Don’t you feel bad?! And that must be bad mojo! You broke her heart; why did you take the box?”

“Surely you saw her throw it at me! You didn’t expect me to throw it back at her?”

Lily stopped her scold, suppressing another fit of giggles before letting out a very loud snort. Y/N and Peter howled together at careless, ‘improper’ lady laughs that Lily usually didn’t make. Y/N liked the change, she seemed freer.

“Well, do you fancy anyone then?” Lily retorted as she composed herself.

Remus snorted too, scooted over to Y/N as she offered him the box. He nodded, grabbing a small bite-sized chocolate piece. He rubbed at his collarbone in a sheepish manner, cracking it which made Y/N and Peter's face scrunch up. “What do you think?”

“You should go and date around. Honestly, you have all these women at your feet and you’ve never gone on one.” Peter added.

“Yes, yes!” Lily urged, “Listen to him!”

“You guys care more about this than I do.”

If James and Sirius were the most popular students, James being goofy while Sirius was a playboy, and Peter had the most friends, Remus was definitely the most well-liked Marauder and the one with the coolest reputation; something that James was certainly jealous of. But the fact that he seemed oblivious to it, Y/N found hilarious and humbling, very unlike his friends.

His head shook. “Well then, what about you two. Do you fancy anyone?”

They both went red immediately. Peter bit the inside of his cheek before Y/N shoved the tray of chocolates his way; he grabbed a handful, eating them in complete silence. Lily, well, she went completely still, almost as if Remus had shot a spell at her. She coughed, looking away uncomfortably as a nervous chuckle embedded its way out.

Y/N’s eyes widened and she and Remus immediately whipped their heads to look at each other. Their mouths gaped, closing and opening like goldfish. Both of their minds reeled, thinking about the same thing. Remus snapped his head back to Lily, his finger pointing at her. “Godric! You do!”

“I-I do not! I don’t fancy anyone!”

“Spill! What’s he like?” Remus asked. They kept probing her for questions, in hope of an answer but she wouldn’t budge.

“Is it Potter?!” Peter asked, his happy mood dimming but he forced a chipperly grin.

Remus was choking on air itself, “You’re taking the piss!”

They all looked at her in burning anticipation. If it was true, James was going to have a field day. Lily’s eyes widened, reaching over to grab the lid of the chocolate box and wacked Peter with it.

They were a mess of giggles, particularly Remus and Y/N who watched Lily berate Peter for the sheer mention of James. They basked in the safe feeling of the sunlight on their skin, the warmth spreading through them and rivalled the bitter chill.

As more laughter erupted, memories created, chocolate eaten, the bell eventually rang. Lily parted off with Marlene and Peter, both in the small class, as Y/N joined Remus.

“You think it’s Potter? Can’t be, can it?”

“I think he’d cry if it was.”

“Truly, he’d go mental.”

“Or maybe Lily’s gone mad.”

Remus shrugged, a smirk tugged at his lips, “Perfect match then.”

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Y/N slumped over her textbooks, watching as Bowie the Bowtruckle climbed into her hand. She hardly paid attention to what Kettleburn droned about.

“Alright! My pupils, listen up; next week, we’re starting a group project for the OWLs. But, I will be the one assigning the partners — oh don’t give me those faces! I have picked your partner based on grades and strengths. Ultimately you will both work together on hatching a Puffskein and care for it. It will be ongoing alongside the rest of your OWL studies and other projects I will assign.

“You will be graded on the overall health and happiness of your Puffskeins. We have gone over their care for a while and I think we’re ready to start. Remember to refer back to your books and do not hesitate to ask me. I have all your equipment ready to go next week.”

Kettleburn coughed, unfurling a piece of parchment with what the class assumed was a list of names.

“To start, Dorcas Meadowes and Lucinda Talkalot —”

Great.

Kettleburn continued to list name after name. Y/N brought a finger to Bowie, letting him touch her gently.

“ — Crabble and Evan Rosier.

“Amita Patil and Edmud Brown.

“Sirius Black and Y/N L/N.

“Susan Chang and Agnes —”

Wait.

Her eyes widened, sharply turning to Sirius who already stared back. Both of their mouths were agape. She hadn’t heard wrong.

“Now, don't ask me to change partners. I will do no such thing. We'll talk more about this next week. Class is dismissed — don’t forget about your paper due on Tuesday!”

Y/N watched as the class got up from their seats, her shoulders slumped dejectedly. Quickly, she stood, walking to the door and pushed the assignment quickly out of her head. But once reaching the door, a Slytherin knocked into her. His hands were pushed out, causing her books and notes to sprawl over the floor as he scoffed down.

“Sorry,” she groans out, “I didn’t mean —”

“Watch where you’re going, stupid Muggle.” With a sharp turn, Crabble walked away with a nasty smile.

Sirius had seen the entire ordeal go down, finding himself stuck at a crossroad; it took all the effort in the world to prevent himself from walking straight up to the boy, hexing him beyond belief, but casting a glance at her, struggling to process what just happened caused him to reassess his thoughts. Instead, he took a deep inhale, noting to himself to take care of that later, and strode towards her, dropping down as he picked up her books, shoving them neatly into her bag while collecting any loose sheet of parchment.

“You okay?” He asked with a voice so gentle it could have been mistaken for a whisper. He turned his head upwards to look at her.

Her eyes were foggy, a faraway look in them, completely in shock.

Sirius wasn’t sure what compelled him to, but his hand reached over, picking up her hand delicately in reassurance. His thumb stroked over her soft skin and helped to pull her to her feet.

The touch broke Y/N out of her daze; the physical contact caused both students to have a fuzzy, odd feeling settling at the pit of their stomachs.

His touch was so soft, so gentle despite his eyes brimming with rage that almost seemed feral.

But, she hardly noticed it as she nodded weakly, jaw clenched. Her mind reeled, attempting to process her emotions — completely baffled and shocked. It was so sudden she felt like she hadn’t had time to digest the situation. Muggle… the Slytherin used it in such a derogatory manner. A word meant to simply describe her sounded bitter — disgusting and low.

Sirius pulled back quickly, the hand flying straight up to his hair. A thought passed through his head, he wanted to reach out again, but he squashed it for more important manners.

“Are you okay?” He repeated.

“Why are you helping me?” She blurted out before she could stop herself. It was the only coherent thought she had at the moment. Sirius out of all people should be laughing at her, shouldn’t he? Being a Pureblood and all…

The comment and the way her eyes judged him quickly told him all he needed to know. A panged sigh went through him.

“Look,” Sirius grew stiff, “I —” he paused, “I may not particularly like you, but I don’t like blood purist arseholes who push women more.”

With another once over, Sirius checked for any scratches or injuries before calming down. “I can take you to the Hospital Wing. It was a nasty fall.”

She shook her head again. The last thing she wanted was for them to get along only out of pity. Sirius understood, handing over her bag and walked away. She watched as his hand clutched the straps of his bag; his grip was so tight that his knuckles were white. His other hand, the one that he touched her with, flexed several times before curling into a fist.

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Currently, she sat by the window ledge in the common room, writing a letter to her mother. Although, her mother hadn't responded to her letters since December. In fact, her mother had only responded to two of her letters throughout her stay; about six months. It made Y/N bitterly press her lips into a thin line. For once, it’d feel nice for her own mother to prioritize her, to make her feel more important than her work.

Blood-red silk curtains nearly swallowed her whole, letting in the little light from the stars outside. The fireplace and chandelier were lit and she could scarcely make out the familiar figure of messy hair, two tufts sticking out like always, swinging an arm over her shoulders. He whined, “Oi! Evans has been stealing you! I feel like I’ve hardly talked to you the past week!”

“Jealous much?”

“Of course,” he said sarcastically, “Anyway, I, the James Potter, your best friend —" "Right." "— am inviting you on a prank. In or out?”

“In,” she said without hesitation. After the Muggle situation, she would do anything to get it out of her head, even for just a few hours. She immediately got up from her seat, walking out the portrait hole. James threw his invisibility cloak over them.

“What are we doing? Is it Remus’ prank we’re doing now?”

James turned to her, his eyebrows deep in confusion. “He told you about that? He hardly tells us before the day of the execution. Anyway, anything you want.”

“Anything I want? What about your boy band?”

He looked over to her in confusion, sliding out a small bag filled with both of their favourite snacks, tossing it to her. “Not coming, just us. Although Remus is on patrol tonight and his mini-gift to you — or er — us, he’s making sure that the Gryffindor and Slytherin floors are cleared from teachers. Should go off without a hitch. So, I’ll ask you again, what do you have in mind?”

“Pranking the Slytherins,” she said without a pause which caused James to grin.

“Atta girl! Learning from the best!”

The prank itself was small in comparison to the prank she helped with on Halloween. Y/N decided on having the prank in the Great Hall for everyone to see. James produced about a dozen dungbombs from his bag, setting it under the Slytherin table and placing a timer on it, ready to be set off in the morning.

But she insisted on the one Slytherin from earlier. Crabble, was it? She asked James to help her give him a little bit more misery than the others. They placed a dozen hexes and jinxes on his usual seat: hair lost jinx, jelly legs, horn tongue hex, Engorgio, twitchy ears, bedazzling hex —

Right now was not the time for Y/N to forgive and forget — revenge was beautiful, fulfilling; she couldn’t wait.

But, their only downfall was that they weren’t on the floors Remus had cleared out for them. So when Mrs. Norris came up to them, only to dash out of the hall, it caused the two pranksters to finalize their escapade before James grabbed her hand and fled the scene.

They ran throughout the empty corridors as the clicking of their shoes echoed throughout the corridor. They were both laughing, smiling brightly. They ran past the Bloody Baron and Nearly Headless Nick, woke up most of the portraits before they heard the vague sound of Filch’s screaming.

“COME BACK HERE!”

“YOU’RE GONNA HAVE TO CATCH US!” Y/N shouted, which had James snickering.

He whipped his head around and placed two hands around his mouth to make his statement louder, “YOU MUST BE LOOKING FOR A GALLEON, EH?! RENT BOY!”

After an abundance of sharp twists and turns, passing by countless hallways and secret tunnels, James seized a blank piece of parchment from his back pocket. He muttered a few words, opening it and ran down another set of corridors, through a tunnel and outside of the castle.

“What are you doing?!”

“Just trust me!”

There wasn’t even a moment’s hesitation: Y/N had grown to trust James a long time ago.

They ducked under an overhead from the castle, far away from Filch. Their ragged breaths filled the air before Y/N snatched the parchment from James’ grasp. “What is this?”

A panicked look flashes through James before he reaches over, trying to pry it from her grasp.

“Nu-uh!” She waved in front of her.

He sighed, realizing that he wasn’t going to get it back and that lying was the worst possible option. “You can’t tell anyone — my chaps will have my head if you do —”

“Who do you think I am?! Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course,” he rolled his eyes at her guilt tripping, “It’s a map we all created — er — Moony was the one to create it. He came up with it and did most of the work. Anyway, it tells us where everything and everyone is at every minute of the day.”

On the front, it read in maroon colours of the boy’s code names, Moony at the very front.

Moony — Remus… always a surprise.

James opened it, flicking it open as he pointed to a pair of animated footprints sprinted around the page hurriedly; Filch's name appearing overhead. His name travelled across the paper at a fast pace, running and zigzagging down the halls in the opposite direction. And by the looks of it, Peeves was following him. Above, they could see Remus’ name close to where they used to be, his name moving quickly in what both assumed was him trying to look for them. He must’ve heard the screaming.

It truly was amazing their little map. She marvelled at the classrooms, every hallway, every inch of ground that covered the surrounding area. Passageways, hallways, doors and abandoned classrooms were all there. Although, a few areas were missing. She noticed how the little nook underneath the tapestry nor a large plot of land close to the left-wing of the castle had yet to be mapped out.

“I proudly present the Marauder’s map.” James boasts.

Her face scrunched up, “You mean the stalking map — perv.”

James faked an offended expression, a hand came to clutch his heart. “I was raised to be a gentleman!”

“Sure thing.”

He was about to make another joke before his face slowly fell upon realization, “Wait, really? Is that why Lily doesn’t like me?” He tugged down on his hair in distress, his eyes looking as if they were to pop out any second. “Do women think I’m perving around?!”

Y/N chortled, prying the map from his hands and slipped back into the castle while having a panicked James follow, completely freaking out in the background, spurting out concern after concern.

She followed the map, walking over to Remus who stood underneath a large painting. He escorted them back to the common room to prevent them from getting any possible detentions and not needing the invisibility cloak. But James continued to babble on about his (alleged and false) creepy behaviour, his emotions spiking while Remus watched the two.

“Okay,” he sighed, observing James have a meltdown as he clung to Y/N’s arm, spewing apologies if he had ever crossed a line. “What did you do? You broke him.”

"Nothing.”

He didn’t question it but his nostrils flared as he attempted to press his lips in a thin line, his face going as red as Lily’s hair.

104 notes · View notes

passivenovember · 4 years ago

Text

Boys on the Radio.

Harringrove April, Day Seven : Daisy Chain.

Steve has very high standards when it comes to men. Unbelievably rigid, according to Nancy; hilariously unattainable, according to Robin, and understandable, according to the one man that actually matters.

Billy tells him that the privilege of not simply “taking what you can get,” comes from equal opportunity.

The fact that Steve can sign up for Tinder, Bumble, Hinge, and HER without having to set his dating pool to only men, only brown eyes, 5′11″ or taller, himbo, must like dogs, must want nachos when drunk--means he shouldn’t have such a hard time finding someone to get coffee with, and yet.

Steve finds himself on the couch with Robin on Wednesday night, anyway. Swiping through a caste of 25+ gym rats and an inbox full of u spit or swalll-o, baby girl.

Wishing and praying for a sign, like. Something to prove he’s not deflective.

Steve clicks his tongue. Clicks out of Tinder. Clicks into Bumble. Swipes left on four guys with fifteen pack abs, Jesus Christ, searching for someone he knows will never materialize.

Steve hates his life.

He throws his phone down on the couch before picking it back up again, and. Opening Tinder once more.

“Billy gets so much dick on these stupid apps, it’s not even real.” Steve complains, after swiping through, like. Ten guys within walking distance alone. “How does he do that?”

“Easy. Billy knows his type.”

Steve considers Marcus. His chorded arms and tattooed thighs. His Incan Temple chest piece, before.

Swiping left.

“How the hell does he actually get what he’s looking for? I see these guys and, like. They seem perfect. Funny, smart, successful. Completely my type on paper, and then--”

“Just say you’re holding out for Billy and move on, Stever.” Robin’s phone dings. She dives for it, grinning and typing out a response, and like.

Steve hates her.

He scowls. “I’m not holding out for Billy.”

It doesn’t sound right, even to his own ears. Robin peeks at him over the top of her messaging app, smile going lopsided in the middle. “’S fine. He’s holding out for you, anyway.”

Steve really, really hates her.

He opens Facebook and scrolls through his feed, stopping to comment a series of heart emojis on a picture of Billy and Max hiking somewhere in White Water State Park.

Billy looks.

Like Billy.

Golden curls cropped close to his head, eyes squinting as the photographer catches him mid laugh, nose bunching up so.

Adorably.

That Steve’s heart skips a beat. That the heavens fuckin’, like. Open, and shit, to shine on a delicate daisy chain around his forehead.

Steve can’t believe he almost missed it. He spends five minutes picking the right color of heart emoji. Yellow and orange, with a sprinkle of stardust, and then. Another three deciding how many to include before closing out of Facebook entirely.

Reluctant to prove Robin right.

Steve opens Tinder and promises that when the next face pops up on his screen, he’ll lower his standards. Be more chill about the whole thing.

Actually read the bio twice and message back before deciding that no one could ever compare to--

Steve swipes left on Tyler.

Almost immediately, because. Look.

This guy is cute. Curly blonde hair and green eyes, but. Unfortunately for dude, his name is Tyler, for fucks sake.

And unfortunately for Steve he looks too much like.

Yeah.

Robin makes a noise, all, “What’s wrong with that one?” Her eyes sparkle mischievously and Steve wishes she were off getting laid or something. “Besides the fact that he’s not Billy.”

“His name’s Tyler,” Steve says. Like it should be obvious. He scrambles for something else, something tangible, before landing on; “And his teeth are too square.”

Robin stares at him. Sets her phone aside before pinching the bridge of her nose, like, “His teeth are too square.”

“Yep.”

“You’re impossible.”

Steve clicks his tongue. Clicks out of Tinder. Clicks into Bumble. Running into the same problem again.

Too pretty guys with too straight teeth and too many abs, just.

Terrible.

“Maybe I should lower my standards.” Steve says, after another you got real pretty DSLs bby, from some fuckface claiming that Sundays are for Jesus and tan lines.

Men are hopeless.

Men are terrible, Steve wishes Billy was here and not on vacation.

“Maybe.” Robin smiles down at her phone, again, cheeks going bright pink when Barb says something so fucking witty, Steve, I’m in love.

Steve frowns. “You can talk about her, dude.”

“Talk about who?” Robin sits on her hands. Swallows a smile. “Barb and I only just met. I’ve been stuck with you for years.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Robins phone dings again. She ignores it. “I don’t think your standards are the problem.”

“If you fucking--”

“Just admit that it’s only been ten years and you’re finally spreading your legs for the guy who includes a description of you in his dating profile.”

He really wishes she were out getting laid.

“Allegedly,” Steve says. Because; “I’ve never actually seen any of his dating profiles.”

Robin opens the message from Barb, grinning to herself, or. To the gods of chaos she seems to be in council with fucking always. “That’s because if you ran across one you’d swipe right.”

“Would not.”

“Would to.” Robin counters, not even bothering to look up from her phone. “Billy is exactly your type. Funny, smart, adventurous. Daddy issues. Has a thing for leather.”

“Dude--”

“Wearing leather, putting his partners in leather. Kinky but knows how to cook and clean, and how to take care of a bratty sub.” Robin puts her phone away, shrugging when Steve tosses a pillow at her. “Face it, man, he’s exactly your type. On and off paper.”

Steve wants to crawl under the couch and bury himself under the floor boards.

“I thought the whole point of online dating was to get out of your head about types and shit.”

Robin snorts, like, “No one actually believes that. We’re all just dating the same person over and over again. Making the same mistakes so we have something to complain about when our friends invite us over for wine.”

And.

She’s not wrong. She’s never wrong. Steve, just. Knows what he wants. Who he wants. Steve aches and pines and yearns for Billy Hargrove. To cuddle up next to the fifteen-pack of abs he’s been obsessing over for years, and.

Swear of this God awful dating sites for good.

But. “Barbara isn’t your type.” Steve says, like. AHA! Pointing an accusatory finger that Robin nods away.

“She’s exactly the type of girl I should be with, and exactly what I’ve wanted all along.” Robin says politely, but her eyes say fuck you I’m right.

Just like now. Like always.

Steve takes a deep, steadying breath. “Okay.”

Robin blinks at him. “Okay?”

“Yes.” Steve mutters, because he’s a team player. He can admit defeat, especially for a battle that was lost to blue eyes long, long ago.

But. He opens Bumble, shrugging sheepishly.

“One more swipe for old times sake?”

“Steve--”

“One more swipe to prove that I should be focusing my dick elsewhere.” Steve says. He feels tears burning, sharp and mean, behind the lining of his throat. “I just need a sign, like. Something to give me the courage.”

Robin watches him for a minute, and.

Must see the way he’s barely holding it together, finger tapping incessantly at the loading screen. Her phone goes off once again, breaking the tension.

Steve takes that as a yes.

He closes the app and opens it again. Bumble plays through an ad for Candy Crush and Steve finds it hilarious that happy endings come with a price tag. A thirty second video telling him what he needs, and then.

The guy on screen is perfect.

Golden skin, bright blue eyes. His bio describes a perfect boy, a perfect date, profile stocked full of personality.

Skateboarding and surfing on the coast. Tattoos and leather jackets. Metallica concerts and.

A boy in a flower crown.

Billy describes his perfect boy as brown eyed beauty, 5′11″ or taller, preschool teacher. Must like dogs. Must want nachos when drunk--

And when Steve finally, finally swipes right: It’s a match.

#harringrove #harringrove april #day seven #daisy chain #this is a conversation inspired by the evening I had hanging with my roommate #we both have incredibly high standards #anyway #hope you enjoy!

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thatmultifandomhoe · 4 years ago

Text

Knitting You a Home - 1

Pairing: Wolf Hybrid Namjoon and Human Reader

Word Count: 2k

Genre/Rating: Hybrid AU - Established Relationship - Angst - Fluff - Smut - PG-13

Overview: Things have changed for you and Namjoon. It’s been a year since the two of you got together, and despite a rocky start, it was impossible to deny the bond and love you shared for each other. But ever since Hoseok had been separated from his Mate, Namjoon has been withdrawing himself from you and doesn’t come home until late at night.

With questions far larger than either of you imagined, you can’t help but wonder if he’s let his past and old fears come back to haunt him. You had shown him that it was possible to have a home and be loved once before, but will you be able to do it again?

Warning: Besides a storm, none. Maybe a few editing mistakes.

Playlist:

Main Master List:

Knitting You a Home Master List:

Mated Love is Never Easy Master List:

Sneak Peak - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15 - ?

©thatmultifandomhoe Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without permission.

June 2018…

The wind howled while rain pelted your house as the storm refused to let up. You softly groaned, scrunching you nose up as you tugged the warm blankets tightly around your body, burying your face into the pillow. It was a weak attempt at trying to fall back asleep, but it was necessary since you had to be up to open the shop at nine in the morning.

It was silent in your house with the exception of your room, where you had a playlist of instrumental music playing. Absolute silence unnerved you and the music served to help sleep at night when the shadows haunted you as you slept. Tonight however, the soothing notes of the violin did nothing to ease you back into your dreams.

You squeezed your eyes shut as thunder rumbled overhead, wishing once again that you hadn’t woken up during the storm. Living on your own had its perks, but going through storms all alone wasn’t on that list.

Lightning cracked in the midnight sky, lighting up your room briefly just as your phone vibrated against the nightstand. Groaning, you forced yourself to roll over, blinking until you were able to read the numbers glowing from your alarm clock. It was almost four in the morning. Why the hell was someone calling you?

It took a few tries, but after fumbling around you nabbed your phone and successfully swiped the green icon.

“Hello?” Your murmured, huddling back under the blankets.

“Thank God you answered; I need your help.”

Frowning in confusion, you lifted the phone up, squinting as the bright screen came back on. The number wasn’t one you recognized. “Who’s this?” You asked instead.

“It’s Luna,” the voice answered. In the background there was rustling and multiple voices talking over each other. “Listen, I know it’s wicked late, but I’m at the Homeless Center and I have a huge favor.”

You turned the lamp on as you sat up, pulling your knees up to your chest as you tried to listen easier. “Luna? What’s wrong?”

“I’m at the Homeless Center for Hybrids,” Luna answered, raising her voice to be heard over all the noise. “This is probably me asking too much, but I have a hybrid here and with the storm we don’t have much space left. I was thinking and I thought you had a spare bedroom but I couldn’t remember…is there any way you’d be willing to let a hybrid stay with you? It wouldn’t be forever.”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” waving your hand as if she was here, you leaned your head back against the headboard. Outside, lightning flashed again making you flinch. “It’s four in the morning Luna.”

There was a bang and at first you thought it was just another clap of thunder, but on Luna’s side you heard whimpering. Her voice was hushed as she reassured someone that it was going to be okay. “I know, but I wouldn’t be calling unless I thought it was important.”

It was insane to be going outside during the storm. Glancing out your window, it was obvious that it wasn’t letting up anytime soon. The best thing to do was to just stay inside where it was safe. That was the sane idea.

“I’m leaving now,” you said instead. Throwing the blankets off, you hurried to your closet to throw on some warm clothes as Luna informed someone, most likely the hybrid, that you were coming.

Time was on the line so you hurried to dress in the jeans and sweater that was thrown over the chair in the bedroom. Despite the lack of information you were given about this hybrid, you nabbed some towels and two umbrellas. In a matter of a few minutes your rain jacket was even thrown on.

“This is absolutely insane,” you muttered, rushing back to your room for the purse that you forgot contained your car keys and everything else. But even as you thought that, you tied the bag that you had stuffed the towels in so they wouldn’t get wet, and after throwing up the hood on the jacket, hurried out to the car.

You didn’t live in the center of town and with the storm still going wild, you were forced to go slower than usual, but it gave you plenty of time to think. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Luna to call you during the middle of the night, sometimes when it was extremely important you would wake up to her banging on the front door until you answered. Out of everyone she knew, you were the only person who would answer her calls, even if it was at a time like this. When she did give you a heads up though, you were sure to have coffee or tea on the stove by the time she arrived.

It wasn’t unusual for her conversations to turn to her place of work, but this was the first time that she called you to let a hybrid stay at your place. Shaking your head, you increased the speed of the windshield wipers and glanced at the tall pine trees, hoping that the lightning wouldn’t hit any of them. Luna would explain once you got there.

When you entered the Homeless Center for Hybrids, you didn’t see Luna anywhere. Instead, various of Hybrids filled the building as the staff ran around. It didn’t take a genius to realize that this was a result of the storm, which wasn’t unusual and typically everyone was prepared for times like this, but never before had you seen it this wild.

Cots were everywhere in the building, and not just in the large open rooms they typically had set up for Hybrids to sleep in. The waiting room and hallways had cots lined up everywhere with names written on makeshift signs to show that they were taken.

Nobody spared you a second glance as you tried to find the office. Hybrids who were soaking wet with towels draped around the shoulders and dry clothes in their hands were heading to the locker room to change, and staff workers were rushing around with arms laden with various supplies and Hybrids in tow.

“Hey!”

Spinning around, you spotted Luna standing in the middle of the room, a stack of blankets in her arms as she waved to catch your attention. You raised your hand and gave a little wave, watching as she made her way to you, passing out blankets to Hybrids she passed along the way.

“Thank you so much for doing this,” Luna greeted you, a tired smile appearing on her face when she finally reached you.

Nodding, you looked around when the sound of a baby crying filled the room. “So, where’s this hybrid?” You asked, looking at her.

Her hair was pulled up into a ponytail and the shoulders of her shirt were wet. Despite how early in the morning it was, Luna was wide awake. “He’s in the office. All the noise and smells were overwhelming him.” Gesturing for her to follow you, she led you through a hallway passing Hybrids who glanced up from making their cots. “That’s why I called you. You live away from the center of town, which is perfect for him, and it’s quiet so he’ll be able to relax.”

“What kind of hybrid is he?”

Luna glanced over shoulder, slowing as you stopped in front of the office. “He’s a wolf Hybrid.” She didn’t give you a chance to answer before softly knocking on the door a second before poking her head in. “Hey there, is it alright if we come in?”

You didn’t hear a reply, but apparently it was okay because Luna was walking into the office, holding the door open for you. The office was small, with only one desk in the corner with a computer on it, a row of file cabinets labeled A-Z, a mini fridge in the other corner, and along the wall to the left of the door was a green couch.

He was sitting on the couch, silently watching as you carefully closed the door behind you.

“Namjoon, I want you to meet my friend. You’re going to be staying with her for a while.” Luna smiled as she introduced you, not minding how quiet Namjoon was.

Softly smiling at Namjoon, you waved as you stood next to Luna. He didn’t say anything else, simply glancing at you before his eyes focused on the bag in your hands. “Oh,” you said, opening it. “I wasn’t sure if you had been caught in the storm or not, so I brought towels.”

When you looked up however, the words died out. Namjoon had raised an eyebrow and looked down at himself, more specifically, his clothes. His jeans had dirt stains on them and his once white sneakers were grey. His white t-shirt was in the same state as his jeans with the addition of a few holes in odd places, and the leather jacket was well worn out. But he was completely dry.

“Namjoon came here a few days ago,” Luna answered. “But with this storm, it’s been so chaotic and loud…”

You nodded in understanding, glancing at Namjoon’s Hybrid ears. They were twitching and flickering back towards the hallways. The door only muffled everyone’s voices. You could only imagine that if it was loud for you, it had to be painful for him.

“Alright,” you breathed out, gaining the attention of Namjoon. “If you want to stay with me at my place, I think we should leave soon. I don’t know how it was here, but the lightning was bad up by my place, and I really don’t want to get halfway home and find a bunch of trees knocked down.”

Luna settled a hand on her hip, smiling at Namjoon like his silence wasn’t unusual. “Like I told you earlier Namjoon, I wouldn’t have suggested staying with her unless I one hundred percent knew you’d be safe. I trust this girl with my life.”

Rolling your eyes at her joke, you ended up grinning anyways. “You’re just saying that because I make you stuff.”

“Don’t you try and steal my thunder here.”

You giggled, but when you looked back at Namjoon, you were startled to see that he was already staring at you. It was a little odd, but you mentally shook it off. He came to the Homeless Center for Hybrids, and from the lack of a collar around his neck, anything could have happened to make him suspicious of humans.

“Namjoon, do you, want to come with me?” You gave him an encouraging smile, hoping that it would help him to feel more comfortable around you. “It’s okay if you don’t want to, but you’re more than welcomed to come home with me.”

The spot between his eyebrows crinkled as he frowned, his lips parting for a second before he pressed them together. He looked back at Luna, who gave him an encouraging nod.

“We’re not going to make you do anything you don’t want to,” Luna softly answered. “Here, Hybrids have free will. You, get to make the decisions for yourself Namjoon. Not me. Not my supervisor or boss, and not my crafty friend here. It’s up to you.”

It hurt to hear Luna explain that, but it was common around here. Hybrids came in from all different backgrounds either finding their way here on their own, or were abandoned by owners who no longer cared or loved them. When it was cases like that, the road to moving on and trusting another human took a long time.

With the two of you watching Namjoon, it didn’t go unnoticed when he stood up with a nod. There was a rip in the green fabric of his backpack, but he slipped it on his shoulder and focused on you, waiting for you to lead the way.

Opening the bag, you handed him an umbrella as you zipped up your jacket. “I parked as close as I could, but it’s raining like cats and dogs out there.”

He didn’t say anything, his face remaining neutral and unwavering, but his hands were gentle as he accepted the umbrella. For a brief moment, his eyes softened when his fingers brushed against yours, only to become guarded once you took your hand back.

“Well then,” you said, unaware of how that touch had affected him. “Let’s go home Namjoon.”

246 notes · View notes

blouisparadise · 4 years ago

Photo

Upon request, here is a rec list of bottom Louis fics with everyone’s favorite trope - sharing a bed! We hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!

1) Just Like Live Wires | Explicit | 5427 words

Harry climbs into Louis' bed when he's cold. Louis pines.

2) Been Gone Way Too Long | Explicit | 8836 words

“This can’t be happening,” Louis says, banging his hand against the window. “This seriously can’t be happening right now.”

Things like this only happen in the movies. Things like this don’t happen in real life. There’s no way that he’s seriously been snowed in. There’s no way that the heating is broken. There’s no way that it’s going to take upwards of twenty-four hours and probably a lot longer for the storm to break and someone to come and rescue them.

“Just sit down, Louis,” Harry sighs from somewhere behind him. He sounds miserable, like he’s already feeling the cold.

Louis whirls around and points a finger at him. “Did you plan this?” he demands a little hysterically. He regrets the question as soon as it’s out of his mouth, but he thinks he’s got a valid point. It’s not like this storm just came out of nowhere - it has to have been on the news for a couple of days, at least. Plenty of time for Harry to have canceled this excursion.

3) I'm Trying Not To Make A Sound | Explicit | 10452 words

Louis thinks he could die right there. He can’t feel anything but the tingling sensation all over his skin. He’s throwing away all his past thoughts on trying to be straight and denying his reactions towards other men, he just wants more of this numbing feeling. Everything else is a long lost memory, can’t think of anything else besides, wow, this feels incredible.

4) Enjoy The Ride | Not Rated | 11103 words

The one where Louis, an omega more than tired of being treated as lesser than alphas, is forced on a road trip by his beta besties only to meet Harry who might just be the alpha he never knew he wanted.

5) Cuffed | Not Rated | 15254 words

What would you do if you were handcuffed to your enemy for 48 hours?

6) Up For It | Explicit | 18223 words

The one where Liam is Mr Organised, Zayn is too perceptive for his own good, Niall is a compulsive matchmaker, and Harry and Louis might just have the surprise to shock them all.

7) Holiday Greetings (And Gay Happy Meetings) | Not Rated | 18417 words | Sequel

Note: This fic has no smut, but it has omega Louis. The sequel has smut.

The one where Niall's dead car and and a foot of snow conspire to force Louis into spending time with an alpha he hates.... or does he?

8) The Aurora Zone | Explicit | 19633 words

The one where Harry is busy crossing off his bucket list while Louis is busy falling for the guy he's supposed to hate.

9) I Wanna Be More Than Friends | Not Rated | 20721 words

The one where Harry’s an alpha with no sense of smell, Louis’ an omega who isn’t allowed to scent his best friend, and that’s all they’ll ever be. Obviously.

10) Etched In Salt (Is A Cathedral Of The World) | Explicit | 24417 words

Note: This fic has BH mentions. It is also locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Louis asks for very few things in life, and they are: to solve cases, to keep bad people from doing their bad things, to get good coffee, to go home to a spacious apartment with nobody else in it, and to manage his stupid telempathy powers with minimal interference. And now he's stuck in a tiny cabin in a snowstorm in the middle of god-awful-nowhere with Harry Styles. Because of course he is.

11) Like A Siren In The Night | Explicit | 25868 words

“There is an infestation in my home,” Louis hisses, righting himself quickly and pushing his way past Harry, heading directly for the kitchen. He’s rather haphazardly dressed himself, a coat thrown on over a loose flannel shirt and black pants, slippers on his feet.

Harry resists the urge to sigh, closing the door and trailing behind him slowly. “What kind of infestation?”

For all he knows, Louis is going to claim that there’s a ghost infestation. Harry has no idea what the end game is here – all he knows is that Louis has found at least three complaints a week to bring up since he’s been living on Harry’s property, and he’s been living here for six months.

It’s way too many fucking complaints, is what Harry is saying. Especially when most of them are ridiculous to start with.

12) Always Come Back To You | Explicit | 28682 words

“I’ll do it,” Harry offers brightly. No one even blinks. “I’ll do it?”

Louis sighs irritably. “Shut up,” he orders, tossing a pillow in the general direction of Harry’s face. This is a terrible time for jokes, especially Harry’s lame, old people ones.

Not that it was an old people joke. Just that most of the time Harry’s jokes consist of knock-knocks or terrible puns. The type of jokes old people like, Louis’ pretty sure. His nan always finds them hilarious when Harry tells her one.

Harry bats the pillow out of the air without even blinking. “Be reasonable, Lou,” he says in his most reasonable voice.

Louis is perfectly reasonable, thank you very much, and he’s also frustrated and upset and tired and he really wants to punch something. Maybe he should have held on to that pillow a little longer.

“You’re not gonna fucking do it,” he snaps. “That’s the last thing I need.”

13) We’re Not Who We Used To Be | Explicit | 30611 words

“Harry…” Louis’ voice catches in his throat, thick with tears threatening to fall out, so he coughs to clear it before trying again. “Harry is Liam’s best man?” “You didn’t know?” Harry is standing at the entrance of the garage, mouth slightly open and face pulled together. He sets his bag on the ground and puts his hands on his hips. When he does that, he looks just like the Harry that Louis remembers (and loves, he thinks with an aching heart). “I’m sure I mentioned it,” Liam says, but Louis can tell he’s lying by the way he chews on his lower lip and twists his fingers together. “You’re all a bunch of dick heads, I’m getting in the car.” Louis isn’t sure if he’s being unreasonable. He has no idea what the protocol is when your ex-boyfriend shows up after three years and nobody bothered to give you a heads up. He’s pretty sure he’s allowed to be upset about it, even if it’s only for a bit.

14) Blind From This Sweet, Sweet Craving | Explicit | 31170 words

"So, I guess we'll go?" Louis asks later, when Harry has calmed down and eaten his weight in Chinese food. He plays with this chopsticks, spearing another piece of chicken and pops it in his mouth. "I mean, I wouldn't mind. We could make it an adventure."

Harry observes him, watches him seated across from him on their old living room carpet, with a container of food on his lap. He's fidgeting, avoiding meeting Harry's gaze–he probably knows that Harry's mad at him for ruining the one chance they had to get out of this situation. And he's not wrong, Harry is definitely very mad. Harry wants to strangle him and castrate him and smack him upside the head.

But he's also Harry's best friend, and despite everything, despite all the fuck-ups and the plot twists and everything just not playing out the way it should, he'd still rather be stuck in this situation with Louis than any of the other boys. He's got Harry's back, and in a weird, abstract way, he knows they'll be able to get out of this situation, together.

Harry sighs. "We're going," he says resignedly, his shoulders slumping.

Oh well. There are definitely worse ways to spend the weekend than pretending to be engaged to his best friend.

15) Welcome Back From The Friend Zone | Mature | 32584 words

The one where an idea to create a fake wedding with the sole intent to receive gifts from billionaires took a turn no one, but also everyone, saw coming.

16) Let Me Feel Your Heartbeat | Explicit | 34572 words

Harry is 98% sure Louis hates him. So he feels like his bewilderment is justified when the omega offers to help him through his rut.

17) Close To Nowhere | Explicit | 34589 words

Louis and Harry are psychics who kind of hate each other. They go to Tennessee to investigate a haunting.

18) Playing To Win | Explicit | 36732 words

Big Brother UK alumni Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles are selected for the UK vs Australia All Stars series with a massive one million dollar prize in the offing. They’re both fit and smart and would make a great alliance... if only they can stop their feelings from getting in the way.

19) If I Stay | Mature | 37226 words

Harry and Louis agree to a temporary arrangement that Harry can't seem to walk away from no matter how many times he tries.

20) The Space Between | Explicit | 39917 words

Harry Styles is the alpha rockstar who can’t sleep and doesn’t know why.

Louis Tomlinson is the omega PhD student who helps him figure it out.

21) Strangers In Love | Explicit | 42207 words

Louis wakes up to find himself in a marriage with the last man he thought he'd ever end up with.

22) Tangled Up In You | Explicit | 45152 words

Harry blinks once. And blinks again. And says, his voice dangerous: “Niall, did you get me a mail-order bride?”

Because what the actual fuck. It kind of looks like Niall’s just purchased a person. For Harry.

Niall blinks back at him for a few moments, before throwing his head back and howling with laughter. Harry throws a pillow at him. Hard. “No, what the fuck, Harry.”

“A prostitute then?” Harry also doesn't want a prostitute.

“Of course not!”

“A stripper?”

“No!”

Damn, he’s running out of ideas. He settles for launching another pillow at Niall’s head. Niall bats it away easily, still laughing. “Stop!”

“What did you get me, then?!” Niall must hear the tinge of hysteria in his voice, because he’s pulling himself together, trying to stop himself from laughing.

There’s still a big grin on his face, though, when he says, “I got you a professional cuddler.”

A professional…what. “What?”

23) No Going Back | Explicit | 56102 words

Sales reps Harry and Louis are bored with their jobs and their lives. After meeting at a conference in Cardiff they hook up, have a few too many drinks, and jokingly apply to become remote lighthouse keepers. Six months, just the two of them, looking after the southernmost lighthouse off the bottom of Australia. It’s not like their applications will be accepted. Right?

This is the story of how one choice - a left instead of a right, a go instead of a stop, a yes instead of a no - can change the future forever and that sometimes, taking that leap of faith, is worth the risk.

24) Waiting For The Tides To Meet | Explicit | 59873 words

Soulmate AU. Everyone is born with heterochromia — one eye is their own eye colour, while the other is the colour of their soulmate's. It's only when they meet their soulmate for the first time that their own eyes match properly. After a hazy night at a frat party, Louis wakes up to blue eyes and the shocking realization that he had met his soulmate, without any sober recollection. Seven years pass where Louis comes to terms with the fact that he'll never know who his soulmate is. Then one fated summer, a beautiful green-eyed photographer arrives at Louis' workplace, with promises of endless laughter and a familiar feeling in Louis' heart.

25) Swallow The Knife | Explicit | 76158 words

“You came,” Louis says, still breathless, clinging to Harry, uncaring that his sweat is getting all over Harry’s presumably clean dad shirt, or that he’s making Harry hold up all of his weight.

“Of course I came,” Harry says. He shifts, one arm curled underneath Louis’ arse, the other spreading wide in the middle of Louis’ back. “If I ignored you every time you pissed me off we would have stopped being friends a long time ago.”

Louis already knows that, of course. It doesn’t do anything to stop the pleased squirm in his belly every time Harry proves it, though. They fight like nobody’s business, both of them too stubborn to pull their punches when they’re arguing, and it used to get them in trouble, but they always make up.

Adrenaline makes Louis loose-lipped, and they both know it. He tightens his arms around Harry’s neck, buries his face in his hair. “I missed you,” he confesses, quiet. “Doesn’t feel the same up there by myself.”

26) Waiting On You | Explicit | 76584 words

“Vampires,” Louis says with disgust, glaring over at the vampire who is noisily slurping from the woman’s neck nearby.

Zayn gives the neat fang marks on Louis’ neck a meaningful look.

“Can’t live with them, can’t live without them,” Louis finishes, ignoring Zayn when he rolls his eyes.

Louis takes a long sip of his milkshake, presses his fingers against the marks on his neck, and definitely doesn’t think about the vampire who left them there.

27) Perfect Storm | Explicit | 80230 words

What do you do when your best friend asks you and your (now) ex to be the best men at his destination wedding? You can either tell him the truth, tell him you’re not together anymore, and deal with the consequences, or you can pretend you’re still together and roll with it, just pray you don’t spiral. Fake it ‘til you make it. You know, for the sake of the wedding.

Harry and Louis choose the latter.

28) Nothing Worsens, Nothing Grows | Mature | 102528 words

Another roadtrip AU featuring Harry as the misunderstood hipster, Louis as the bitter psych major, Liam as the one with the secret boyfriend, and Niall as the one who just wants everyone to be happy.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

#bottom louis #top harry #larry #fic recs #sharing a bed #blp #blp fic recs

226 notes · View notes

the-silentium · 4 years ago

Text

The Lost Future Pt. 2

Masterlist Part 3

Pairing: soulmate!Five Hargreeves x Reader

Summary: Soulmate AU where the soulmates share their wounds. || Along with your brother, you are transported into the 1960's with a bunch of kids you don't know. Turns out they are trying to stop the 2019 apocalypse and you are playing a key part of it.

Words: 3500 words

Warnings: Violence, swears, angst, fluff. FRENCH WORDS Y'all have to bear with my French Canadian ass.

A/N: Yay part 2 is out! We are almost at the best part :3 I love comments and feedback 💜 The French words are translated so no need to go on google translate and have a bad traduction. Also, I anyone want to be tagged in the next part, feel free to ask. Enjoy!

After everyone had calmed down and the two slashed hands were taken care of, the food was shared and people scattered to different places in the house and bunker. Andrew hasn't left your side until 11, asking non-stop how you were feeling and catching you up about what happened into his life while you were away.

"So yeah. Oh and I got a puppy." You squealed in excitation. You loved dogs and puppies were the best. You already knew what breed Roo's companion was, you both had wanted one for years but you would never deny your old Mountain Bernese, Berrick, all the love and attention he deserved.

"You got a Samoyed?" Oh how you wanted to shower this little ball of white fur in cuddles and kisses.

"Ya. Named him Yukon. He's the happiest puppy of the world but damn! He loves mud better than his food! I swear, he starts dancing when it rains and the second we open the door, he rolls into the closest puddle of mud." You laugh wholeheartedly, the image clear in your mind. Your joy was short-lived when you caught the sight of a certain blue-eyed boy. Your soulmate.

The thought felt weird but incredibly right. Deep inside you, a primal desire was burning for you to dive right into the newfound relationship without any back thought and see what would happen next. Unfortunately, you knew what would happen next. It was inevitable.

So maybe you could save Five from a major heartbreak and just reject him. It would hurt every party involved, but it was the best option. You couldn't lead him on, make him love you, and then break his heart. From what you learned while being around Five today, is that he has walls around his heart. So tall. So thick. You were sure any trauma that would leave someone else broken in thousands of pieces would not even bother him. But your link with him gave you a secret passage through these defenses making you one of the few things that could hurt him.

"Do you really want to do this to you? Deny yourself to be happy?" Damn him and his perfect reading of you.

"You know what I'm going back to when we go back in 2019."

"I do. That's why I say that you should enjoy it while it lasts. You deserve it."

You scoffed at his comment. "It would be selfish. He would suffer because of me."

Andrew sighed, he would never change your mind and he knew it. He softly patted the back of your hand before getting up. "All I say is you have your last chance." He made his way in another room, where his not so comfortable bed was waiting for him to try and sleep as much as he could before another day began.

You harshly wiped the fresh tears for your eyes, but your throat was constricting despite your best efforts. At least, you managed to keep your sobs in, the only telltale of your predicament being the regular shakes of your body.

You froze when you felt fingers stroking your arm in a reassuring manner. You didn't dare to breathe, in fear of letting a sob escape your lips. No one else could know.

"I'll kill him if he hurt you." Your ragged breath caused the pressure on your arm to increase slightly. You really tried to resist. You tried. But you needed the comfort. Just once. You would allow it just this once.

"That's what brothers do. You should know that." Five hummed before moving closer. You didn't know how your body knew that Five was going to get onto your bed and sit so that your head would be on his lap, but it did. Your desire to cry came back full force when you realize how heavenly the feeling was. His hand in your hair, his fingers tracing lines on your arm, his patience when waiting for your shaking form to calm down. You felt so dirty to enjoy his presence while knowing that you were digging the grave of his happiness.

"I'm definitely killing him." You laughed, tapping his legs in a playful manner. His chuckles sounded like music to your ears and you knew right then that you signed your fate. You needed to hear it again and maybe if you were lucky enough, you could hear his laugh before everything ended.

"Sooo…" You turned on your back so you could try to discern his handsome features in the dark. "Why does Klaus call you old bastard? We are all born on the same day, right?"

"Yes. But when I jumped into the apocalypse, I got stuck there for 45 years, meaning that my mind is 58 years old." The three lasts words were so low that you almost missed them. Almost. "Deal breaker?" Your bandaged hand reached for his, testing the water.

"No. Never." You closed your eyes the second his fingers interlaced with yours. You tried to engrave this perfect moment, your first intimate time with your new-found soulmate in your memory.

"I'm sorry." Five's whispered. His fingers were tracing the border of the bandages covering your hand.

"For what? You didn't hurt me." You admired his hair, contemplating how soft they would feel under your fingers.

"Yes I did. I was a hitman. I got stabbed, I barely survived an explosion, I hurt myself in the apocalypse so many times that I'm surprised I didn't die from an infection-" Your furrowed brow made him ponder. "You never got hurt because of me?"

"Nope. Never. Did you?" He shook his head. His fingers slowed their motions on your hand, telltale of his mind working at light speed. You couldn't stop yourself this time and reached for his dark strands, combing your fingers through their softness. For a tiny second, Five tensed, stopping his ministrations simultaneously but soon relaxed and leaned into your hand. You smiled and massaged his scalp just like your mother did to you when you weren't well. "Maybe our bond couldn't link us through the timelines." He sighed before a tired smile stretched his lips. "I'm glad."

You giggled, trying to suppress the yawn building in your throat, but failing miserably. A kiss fell on your uninjured hand followed by a stroke on the cheek. "Get some sleep." Your whine got a chuckle from him. "We'll have plenty of time after we stop the apocalypse." A last kiss landed on your forehead and Five moved to get up. "Good night, mon âme soeur."

You smiled at his flawless use of French. "Bonne nuit, my soulmate"

…………………………….

Just after breakfast (read here the rest of yesterday's diner) everyone gathered in the bunker to assess yours and your brother's powers.

"So, Roo can kinda dematerialize himself? I don't know how to explain it." The Hargreeves were all sat on couches, watching them intently. Vanya had woken up and was briefed of the recent events.

"Just show us." Diego played with a knife, obviously bored.

Andrew placed himself in the middle of the room while you joined Five and sit on the ground between his legs. Andrew pointed to Klaus who was fiddling with a controller. "Throw it at me."

The surprised cough of Klaus made you giggle. His left hand went to his chest dramatically, his eyes wide. "Me? Throw an innocent controller at you?" Letting go of the act, Klaus' eyes returned to normal, a smile on his face. "Fine."

The throw was messy and weak, hitting its target on the chest nonetheless before falling to the ground and a back piece of it broke. Your twin lifted his arms as to say "see?" He then pointed to Diego, shiny knife still in hands. "Throw it at me. Don't hold back and don't deviate."

The room stopped breathing. "Sorry, what?" Diego was incredulous, just like everyone else, minus you.

Confident, Andrew nodded. "You heard me. Bring it on."

Allison and Vanya tried to dissuade their brother, clearly afraid that someone would be gravely hurt in this process. "You asked for it." You weren't surprised by the amount of force Diego put behind his throw. The knife flew at an incredible speed, passing right through Andrew leaving no hole, no blood, nothing. On the other side, the wall wasn't as lucky.

"What?!" Diego was on his feet in a second, quickly getting to his knife to inspect it while your brother flashed a smug grin. "Things pass through you?" His eyes went from the broken controller at their feet to the weapon, trying to figure out what really happened.

"When I want them to." Hands digging in his pants pockets, Andrew swung himself on his heels and toes. "It comes very handy in fights."

You had indeed witnessed a fight between Roo and 3 bigger tugs, the outcome hasn't surprised you, but seeing it was very impressive. He had to time his punches so his body would be fully materialized when the punch landed all the while taking care that his body was dematerialized for any punch threw at him. His power had no secret for him and he mastered it completely. Unlike you, who lacked practice.

Andrew then sit on the floor, his eyes not leaving yours. It was your turn. You nodded. Your nervosity was making your hands shake a bit. It has been a while since you last used your power and you were scared that you would embarrass yourself in front of the perfectly trained Hargreeves. A deep breath entered your lungs before you concentrated on visualizing Roo's soul.

You could see it neatly, a pale ivory flame softly floating within Andrew's seated form. You projected your own soul forward, reaching for the silky edges of your brother's and pushed him into the back seat. You took control of his body, slight nausea hitting you in the first seconds. You blinked quickly, adjusting to your new vessel and assessed the scene before your new eyes.

Your real body was laid down on the floor with a panicking Five leaning over it. He slowly shook its shoulders, your name falling from his lips in an urgent tone. Allison and Vanya scurried to help him, Klaus and Diego watched seemingly paralyzed and Luther was the one to slap the back of your current head.

"What's happening to her?"

"I'm fine. I told you, my body just shut down when I project myself." A furious Five raised his head to meet your eyes and you suddenly felt very small despite Andrew being taller than the blue-eyed boy.

"Y/N? It's you in Andrew's body?" You nodded, unsure of what you just got into. "You didn't tell us shit!" His harsh tone caused a lump to form in your throat, blocking almost completely your airways. You knew you'd screw something up. Andrew's soul became agitated, its pure ivory slightly turning grey on the edges. You could feel his anger at the back of your mind, his need to punch something. I don't care that this midget is your soulmate. He better watch how he talks to you. You cringed at Andrew's thoughts.

"Sorry." You muttered. You quickly projected yourself back into your body to try and appease everyone. You pondered if leaving the room was a good idea, fleeing from the trouble you had just created and more importantly, trying to forget Five's anger directed at you. The ex-assassin was thinking ahead of you, because even before you could set up your mind, a hand caught yours keeping you in place. He helped you get into a seated position and positioned himself right behind you, encasing you with his legs on each side of yours.

Five's muscles on your back softened only slightly. Allison stayed close by despite everyone else regaining their initial place. "Now can you explain?" You didn't want to meet their eyes in fear of what you would see, so you kept your eyes low.

"I can project myself into someone else's body. It’s like I take the wheel of their body and they are in the backseat. They can still see and hear what’s happening and when I get out, they remember everything. They just don’t know it was me.” You paused, trying to see if you missed anything. “Oh, and I can hear their thoughts and access their memories too. That’s pretty much it.”

“So you can possess anyone?” Andrew obviously didn’t like Diego’s tone despite it being a legitimate question.

“As far as I know, yes. But I’ve not used my power much and I would never use my power on you guys. I’m not dumb.”

Diego lifted his hands in the air in surrender even though his face clearly showed that he didn’t believe you. Klaus' way of watching you, elbows on his knees, eyes reduced to slits, a hand under his chin, set off alarms in your head. A stupid comment was coming your way. “Sooo. How is it to have, ya know, an extra appendage?” You nearly choked on your saliva at the pretty forward inquiry and your brain went blank for a second. You should have known. It was written in the sky that Klaus would get stuck at THAT fact.

“Seriously Klaus?” Allison wasn’t impressed. Like. At all.

You shivered at the memory of the first time you tried your power. You didn’t know what it was at the time, so you let Andrew persuade you to try it on him. The trick was, you two were kids back then and Andrew had a very tiny bladder. To top it all, you didn’t know how to get out of his body yet. “Eeeeh. J’essaye de pas y penser? Parce que c’est inconfortable pis troublant en criss.” “I try not to think about it? Because it’s really uncomfortable and fucking disturbing.” The reboot of your brain apparently forgot to change the default language from Canadian French to English, causing a chorus of what? in the room. A very familiar laugh followed suit, annoying and embarrassing at the same time. Your only comfort was found in the shape of Five’s arms wrapping around your waist.

“How long can you last into someone else’s body?” Five’s hot breath in your ear made you shiver for a totally new reason. You would have loved it if the moment hasn’t been broken.

“That’s what she said!” You were very, very close to hit someone, them being Roo or Klaus, you had no preference. Back at home, you weren’t known for your patience, quite the opposite. Your nickname wasn’t Panda for nothing. You liked to pick fights, even if it meant some black eyes at the end of the day. You tried to get up, escape the grip keeping you on your butt, with no big results.

“I need an answer.” The serious look on his face made you stop squirming.

“So far? An hour? A bit more? Why?”

Five nodded, a content smile on his perfect lips. His head tilted a bit to the side and he watched you like it was the first time he ever saw you. “You can stop the apocalypse.”

Andrew’s unstoppable laugh abruptly came to an end at those words. “I’m sorry. She what now?”

…………………………….

The plan was brilliant, not that you expected anything less from Five. The only issue was that you would need to take over someone’s body for way, way longer than an hour. The only way for you to do just that was to practice. And boy, did you practice. The Hargreeves way.

You panted, the return to your original body was brutal and spontaneous. Every muscle in your body was screaming in pain, your lungs were burning and your heart was a movement away from exploding. You laid on the couch, staying as steady as possible to appease your aching frame. If it wasn’t enough, even your mind felt on fire. The multiple jumps from body to another was getting its toll on your mind and to help your cause, the ones you possessed were instructed to fight you back as much as they could.

The Hargreeves and Andrew rotated between themselves to be your target. Undoubtedly, Diego was against it, but after some persuasion Five’s-style, he soon joined the training and damn did he fight you whenever his turn came.

Each day you made progress, but as soon as you hit the pillow at the end of the day, you were gone for a good 14 hours to be able to function again. On the good side, you were now able to stay in a calm host for more than a day and managed to keep a hostile one for a good 10 hours. At one point, Five had instructed you to jump from a host to another one. You had shown him the middle finger as quickly as your suffering muscles allowed you, indulging to his demands nonetheless. Jumping from a person to another was difficult to say the least. You often lose focus while transferring, catapulting yourself back into your own body or the second host would immediately put you K.O. the moment you tried to push them in the back seat.

It was safe to say that you hated these trainings. Each time you had to remind yourself why you were doing it and in the end, you made it. It took 2 whole days, but you made it. And today you mastered it.

“You last 9 hours in Luther and 7 in Klaus. That’s more than enough.” Five appeared at your side and took your hand in his, stroking the back of it slowly. You noticed said boys exiting the room to give you both some alone time.

“No more training?” Your hoarse voice made Five frown. He leaned over you to grab something on the coffee table and as carefully as he could, he bring the water bottle to your lips. You make a last effort to take the bottle yourself, not surprised when your hands don’t move an inch.

“No more training. Now you need to rest.” His hands slipped under your shoulders and knees and he lifted you like you weighed nothing. You so desperately wanted to stay awake, enjoy being in his arms before the last lap to stop the apocalypse began so you fought the exhaustion as much as you could.

"You're so beautiful." His comment just above a whisper made you hide your face in the crook of his neck in self-consciousness. You were never one to like receiving compliments, always waving them off or at least say it back. The latter would have been a good option if you weren't scared of where that led you.

"Five?" He hummed, waiting for you to continue. "What if I screw everything up?"

Five finally reached your attributed bed, carefully setting you down on the covers before joining you. He stayed at an acceptable distance from you, so if a certain male was to pass, there shouldn't be any blood spilled. His hand went to your waist, slowly caressing the skin exposed by your misplaced shirt.

"You won't. We trained you for this and I know you can do it. You're my soulmate after all." His signature smirk was back on his lips. His confidence relieved some of the anxiety that was slowly expanding at the back of your mind and you started to think that maybe you could do it. You could really save the world. "What do you miss the most to do? In 2019 I mean."

You furrowed in brow, deep in thoughts. You missed doing a lot of things.

"When I was a kid, once a year my parents would take us to a drive-in movie theatre. I've not done that in a long time." Five found himself reciprocating your dreamy smile.

"It's a date then."

"What?"

"It's a date." He repeated. "The first thing we'll do when we get back is go to that drive-in theatre, then I thought we could go stargazing at one of my favorite place."

It was so unexpected, tears formed into your eyes in a flash despite your best efforts at repressing them. It didn't take long for Five to notice the water rolling down your cheeks, worry tainting his sharp features.

"Shit. Is it too soon?"

"No." The speed of your shaking head almost made you dizzy. "I'd love to go there with you." Even the radiant smile on your face couldn't stop the flow of tears cascading from your eyes, leading Five to see them as happy tears. He smiled in return, reducing the distance between your two bodies to none as he cradled you into his chest, his face buried in your hair.

Your mind wanted to scream at the universe. Yell for the unfairness of your predicament and for how much pain your selfishness would inevitably create.

The events of the day got to you, your mind getting foggier and your breath steadier. As you were about to fall asleep, three little words flew to your ears, soft, almost indiscernible but pretty clear.

"I love you."

Part 3

#five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #the umbrella academy #tua #soulmate #my fic #THE GOOD PART IS COMING

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oceanselevenism · 4 years ago

Note

I've seen that most of the stories on ao3 about them are mostly canon-compliant (and I don't have anything against that tbh) but I was wondering if you have any aus that you think could fit them or that you'd like to see?

omg i have SO MANY aus!! (it got Very Long so its under a cut)

- college au! danny gets kicked out (hes on full scholarship and does Thiefly Things to cover his expenses so hes not endangered just fairly fucked up abt it) (does it count as kicked out if u only live w ur dad three months a year) in freshman year, he befriends rusty (1 year below him) in sophomore year, debbie also befriends rusty (she and danny dont talk much but shes 2 yrs below him at the same college), and when reuben comes calling for a job he thinks debbie has a boyfriend (thanks to debbie telling her dad that she does) so she fake dates rusty. who ends up joining the job. and danny is Very Jealous

- snl ripoff au! danny and rusty are the weekend-update-adjacent anchors and they get gay. i Would have this take place in la (reuben is taking A Risk producing a late night sketch comedy show on the west coast but the 11/12/however fuckin many are fantastic cast members so even though they lose revenue from the other timezones not watching as much as they watch snl or whatever, they still make BANK... but danny and rusty getting gay throws the equilibrium out of whack) BUT la sucks DICK so its happening in new york. also this way u get Ocean Sibling Banter (debbie and lou are the anchors for The Actual Weekend Update and when debbie/lou get together and also when danny/rusty get together there are so many ‘just switch out the blondes/brunettes nobody will be able to tell and we won’t have hr down our necks’ jokes)

- au where the caldwells, abt to go deep undercover on a Huge Fucking Case, have to give up custody of 6 year old linus to tess and danny. the case stretches on for twelve years and linus grows up w tess and danny (who get divorced like right after they adopt him bc tess finds out abt dannys Thiefly Activities-- he confesses to her bc he doesnt rly want to predispose the kid to said thiefly activities) and also isabel (she and rusty break up like Right Before tess and dannys wedding and its very funny; she then goes on to marry tess) parenting him (rusty isnt as much in the picture bc he doesnt feel bad at all abt stealing and tess doesnt want linus to pick up that mentality also rusty Feels Things abt danny)! then when linus is like 18 or 19 danny disappears (tess and isabel think its Thiefly Activities again and arent concerned, just disappointed, but linus is very concerned for his dad-slash-stepdad-slash-sort-of-uncle) and he tracks down rusty so they can find danny. they roadtrip across america and eventually catch up to danny, who is helping the caldwells, and the five of them take down whatever gang the caldwells were chasing. linus now has 6 parents

- au based on this post where some archaeologist finds a bunch of dannys [french person voice] Love Lettairs 2 rusty and so obviously the logical course of action is to rob the museum (which happens to be the museum that tess is curating. funny how things work out) without telling his team What Theyre Stealing. they successfully pull off the heist but turns out the letters were not among the items they stole!! danny is getting desperate. as a last-ditch attempt he calls tess and asks her to let them rob the museum. shes like Why The Fuck Would I Do That. he explains and she begrudgingly agrees. danny and livingston go break into the museum Again but rusty tails them bc dannys been acting Weird and he finds out abt the letters bc livingston sweats more whenever he tells a lie. they live happily ever after (literally, theyre immortal) the end. also even though dannys a werewolf the 11 all call him the new jersey devil (its not his fault that legend came to be ok!! he was very drunk!!)

- childhood friends au!! danny and rusty were best buds as very young kids and then the oceans had to move. flash forward 2 present day where danny and debbie r robbing a museum (theyre building a flower shop over the vault and tunneling in, the dudes in brazil who came up w it are very very clever) and guess which two people are the assistant curators (is that even a title?). guess. ill tell u its tess and rusty! danny recognizes rusty, rusty ‘does not recognize’ danny (which is valid. look at photos of child george clooney and tell me you would recognize him). the 11 demand that they use this to their advantage and so danny and rusty Sort Of Date while the rest set up for the robbery, and danny feels really bad abt it so on the day of (after everyone has gotten away, ofc, he might be a lovesick bitch but hes not a snitch) he confesses and rustys like lmao i was onto u from the start. what kind of a name is [insert alias here] anyway. then they go live a life of crime and its great

- @sanduschism came up w a fantastic au where danny pickpockets rusty and feels bad so he sends the wallet back and they strike up a Correspondence

- HOSPITAL AU!!! danny and rusty r er techs while theyre doing med school and nobody knows how they juggle their shifts w school but also rusty can do a tracheotomy in like 5 seconds and danny can tell when a person needs an mri before they even list their symptoms so nobody questions it and nobody splits them up Ever. when they eventually become surgeons, danny does cardio and rusty does neuro, and whenever they have to work together not only do they never have to say what theyre doing, they don't even have What Do U Want To Cook For Dinner convos fully out loud. tess is head nurse... she makes so many excel spreadsheets... they are ALL color coded. isabel is head er doc and nobody dares to halfass things on her watch. reuben is head hospital admin, saul is chief surgeon, basher is head of the burn unit, the malloys r the HUNKIEST nurses in town, frank does plastic surgery/ent (every patient loves him bc he is just So Calm), livingston is The IT Guy, yen does like orthopedics or physical therapy, and linus is their fav resident who they all lovingly tease 24/7. the ocean sibs r both Cardio Gods and each dominate their respective coasts. debbie is an nyc doctor and if she sees a mass gen doctor its on SIGHT. the few surgeries that she and danny collab on go so fast that the med students in the gallery Cannot tell whats happening. lou is also a plastic surgeon and she and frank r best buds. linus requests time off like 6 months in advance Every Time and everyone hates it bc then They have to be on call but he doesnt realize his Extreme Overachieverness is causing so much strife. whenever tess and danny get in an argument she colorcodes his rounds spreadsheet to be the most neon shit youve ever seen. can you tell i never fully progressed past my greys anatomy phase this one is like 93489302 lines long

- superpower au where rusty has midas touch and danny has corrosive touch and when theyre too young to have control over their powers (abilities develop throughout adolescence and the user gains control at the end of adolescence) they accidentally brush hands and are terrified they just killed each other but turns out their powers like. cancel out. so until they reach like 21 or 22 and can touch things without fucking them UP they just. hold hands all the time. bc otherwise they have to wear gloves to prevent Accidents and both of them “hate gloves” (and also love holding hands. gayasses)

- uhhh hallmark au where danny is a crime fiction writer out on some beach north of ocean city nj and rusty is his fancy nyc editor. everyone else is a thief including debbie who is just Very weirded out that her brother, who robbed boston’s institute of contemporary art at age 22 and got away with it, has decided to spend the rest of his life churning out books. he is very critically acclaimed and about half of the 11 are buds with him and use his published books as heist inspo. the other ~half of the 11 are buds with rusty, and they tell him if danny’s heists are feasible or not (they always are. scarily so.) anyway rusty and isabel break up 12 days before xmas and danny and tess break up 8 days before hanukkah so dannys heading to debbie’s place in upstate new york to mope for the holidays when A BLIZZARD HITS and he gets stranded in midtown. and he and rusty are buds but like. Email Buds. they dont hang out irl and therefore they dont let their Totally Bud-Like Feelings mess up their professional relationship. but danny is stranded and its hanukkah and he ends up crashing at rustys place for the duration of the blizzard. and then rusty ends up coming to debbies place for the rest of the holidays. and then they kiss on new years eve and debbie kicks them out bc theyre being gross

- And More! thanks for the ask, anon! sorry it got so long lol i just have Many Thoughts

#oceans 11 #oceans eleven #danny ocean #rusty ryan #danny x rusty #oceans 8 #oceans eight

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kuroyurishion · 4 years ago

Text

A Prinxiety Halloween Story

Fandom: Sanders Sides

AU: Human

Pairing(s): Prinxiety, Logicality (mentioned), Demus (mentioned)

Summary: Virgil is stuck babysitting his baby cousin on Halloween night while answering the door to trick or treaters. Roman shows up to surprise him.

Warnings: Cursing, Food mention, Hyperventilation (Did I miss any? Please let me know!), OOC Characters

Additional Note(s): Happy Halloween everyone! I’m a bit rusty since I haven’t written in so long. Think of this as a little test run. I hope all of you are having an amazing and spooktacular Halloween 🎃 (Finished 11:49 PM, October 31, 2020. Just in time!)

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27364531

Ready? Let’s Begin.

Trick or Treat: A Witch and his Vampire

Virgil Sullivan sighed underneath his breath as he clutched the bowl of candy tightly as he shut the door behind him. That was the fifth group of kids dressed in their colorful costumes. His neighborhood was full of kids, even more so since it was Halloween. He places the bowl of candy on the coffee table. He had approximately five to seven minutes of a break until the next wave of tiny children came, so he was gonna-

A loud crash jolted Virgil out of his thoughts. It came from the kitchen. He panics slightly, hurriedly jogging over to check the commotion. There was a chair knocked over, and sitting beside it was a white sheet. Virgil groans. “Damion, really?” he questions, picking up the chair. Damion is Virgil’s seven year old baby cousin who his aunt and uncle dropped off and asked him to babysit while they go on a business trip with Virgil’s parents.

The tiny seven year old giggles mischievously from his makeshift ghost costume. “Whoops! Sorry Vee!” he apologizes, not even sounding slightly sorry. Virgil rolls his eyes at his cousin.

“Just be more careful next time.” he says with a tired sigh. His cousin scampers off somewhere, the white sheet dragging behind him. Virgil went back to the living room and was about to sit back on the couch until he heard the doorbell. He groans, thinking it must be another batch of neighborhood kids looking for some candy, and picking up the bowl of candies, he answers the door. He reaches inside the bowl of candies and grabs a handful, and is about to greet the kids, but then pauses in surprise.

On the other side of the door weren’t a bunch of neighborhood kids. Instead, it was a very handsome man, about Virgil’s age. He was dressed up as a very fancy vampire; complete with a black vest with silver clasps, a long black overcoat and a red cotton alcott tucked into the collar of his white button down. The vampire had some very impressive makeup, Even the fake blood looked realistic! The vampire grinned, exposing his sharp fangs. He bowed, taking off his black top hat with a red ribbon tied around it.

“Greetings, my elusive Elphaba.” the vampire greets, standing up again straight again. Virgil rolls his eyes, leaning against the doorframe. He really didn’t want to dress up this year, just wanted to wear his usual black ripped jeans and purple and black jacket. Damion insisted he try, so he bought the black witch’s hat last minute and swapped his usual black eyeshadow with a glittery purple variety.

“‘Sup Roman.” Virgil greets with a two fingered salute.

Roman squawks indignantly. “It took me so long to think of that one!” he cried. “At least try to be in the Halloween spirit Virge!”

Virgil huffs. “Fine, I’ll play along.” He thinks of a cheesy saying and clears his throat. “And to you, my dashing Dracula.” he says with some enthusiasm. That really didn’t sound right coming from his mouth. Roman beams proudly, however, showing off his fake fangs.

“See! I knew you can do it!” he cheers.

“Thanks Princey.” Virgil says. “What did you come here for?”

Roman shrugs. “You’re usually out with my brother and Janus during Halloween, so when Remus said you weren’t gonna show up to your usual hang out spot, I thought it was suspicious.” he responds.

Virgil raises an eyebrow. “So you dressed up,” he starts, gesturing to Roman’s costume, “to check on me? Well aren’t you thoughtful?” He didn’t know why, but the thought was kinda sweet. Roman flushes.

“I was with Logan and Patton earlier before coming here,” he admits. “We were all trick or treating until Logan had to go back home because he had to study for his math test. Patton went with him since they’re both in the same class.”

Virgil snickers. “To study?” he asks, amused. Roman chuckles at that too.

“Can you believe they are not dating yet? I mean, Patton clearly likes Logan! And vice versa!”

“I know! They’re both so oblivious. I lost a bet to Janus since I said they’d get together first before him and Remus.”

The two boys share a laugh over the relationship status of your friends. “So how come you weren’t with my brother and Janus?” Roman asked curiously. Virgil shrugs in response.

“I’m stuck babysitting my younger cousin for the weekend.” he says. “Our parents are away on a business trip and won’t be back until next week.”

Roman nods in understanding. “Oh I see.” he says. “How’s that working out for you?”

Virgil grumbles. “He’s annoying me constantly and knocking so many things. My anxiety is through the roof since he’s so clumsy.” He sighs. “He even asked me to make his costume, Roman. I can’t make things for shit.”

Roman snickers. “Well, what did you make for him Virge?”

“I covered him in an old white sheet that I cut two holes for eyes in. Told him it was his ghost costume.” Virgil says then sighs. “The kid loves it, but honestly him dragging that thing along and bumping into things is driving me nuts.”

Roman laughs at that, and Virgil chuckles lightly after. They stop after a moment and look at each other, falling into an awkward silence, just looking at each other. Virgil looks at Roman’s costume and admires all the little details he put on it just for one night. He felt a bit underdressed with how his costume came out.

Roman clears his throat, breaking the silence and Virgil’s admiration of his costume. “I should head back home.” he says and Virgil’s eyes widened, realizing that it was getting late.

“Uh, yeah.” he says awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head. “I guess I’ll see you in class Monday.”

Roman nods and smiles. “I bid you adieu, O Wicked Witch of the West.” he says dramatically, then steps back quickly as Virgil throws a small piece of candy his way, face hidden under the brim of his giant witch’s hat, laughing fondly. “I’ll see you Monday!”

Virgil could barely get a good bye out since he shut the door so quickly. He leaned against the door, panting heavily. There was a weird feeling in his stomach. For some odd reason, he didn’t want Roman to go….

Making up his mind, Virgil quickly flung open the door and spotted Roman’s retreating figure. He panics for a moment, thinking that he was too late. Clutching the bowl of candy as if it were a lifeline, he runs over to him. “Roman, wait!”

Roman turns around, slightly confused. “Virgil?” he asks. “What’s wrong?” Virgil catches up to him, panting.

“Don’t go yet.” Virgil huffs out.

Roman smirks. “Afraid you can’t wait until Monday, Emo Nightmare?”

Virgil rolls his eyes. “You wish Princey.” he snarks. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, but he was out here now. Might as well go for it. “Would you like to come in? You came all this way to check on me and you live on the other side of town…” He trails off, unsure of what to say next that wouldn’t make him sound whiny.

Roman raises an eyebrow. “You’re inviting me inside your house?” he asks in amusement. Virgil winces slightly. He knew it was a stupid idea to invite Roman. What was he thinking?

“If you didn’t want to, you could’ve just said no.” Virgil grumbles, hiding his face with the brim of his witch’s hat. He sighs. “It’s fine Princey. It was a stupid idea anyway, I’m just gonna go back and-”

“I’d love to stop by!” Roman says excitedly.

“-pause to process what you just said.” Virgil finishes, looking at Roman in surprise. “What did you say?” He swears he heard incorrectly. Did Roman just say he wanted to stop by?

Roman smirks. “I said yes, I’d love to stop by.” he repeats again, amused. Ah, so Virgil didn’t hear him correctly. The witch nodded silently and turned around to walk back to his house in stunned silence. He walks through the door, looking back to see if Roman was still following him. Roman was, but stopped in front of the threshold, not walking in.

“Princey, what are you doing?” Virgil asked in confusion. Roman still looked amused.

“Did you know, Virgil, that a vampire cannot enter your home?” Roman asked, grinning. “They have to be invited in. Once they are, they can enter and leave the home freely.”

Virgil looks at Roman like he grew another head. “You can’t be serious.” he groans. Roman continues to grin. “Roman, c’mon, seriously?”

“Why not Emo Nightmare?” Roman asks. “Don’t you wanna invite this, handsome, dashing vampire into your life?”

Virgil didn’t know whether or not to kiss Roman’s smug face or to punch it. Instead, he settles for putting the bowl of candy down and staring at Roman incredulously. “Roman-”

“Come on Virgil! Don’t you wanna let me in~?”

Virgil hides his blushing face with his witch’s hat. “Fine.” he grumbles. “Come on in, Dramacula.” He steps aside as Roman enters the house, winking at Virgil as he passes. Virgil sighs and locks the door behind him.

“Sorry for the mess.” he mumbles, looking around. It wasn’t really that messy, just a couple thrown pillows here and there because of Damion.

Roman looks around too. “Cozy place.” he compliments, looking at all the Halloween decorations around the house, like the spider web curtains and very realistic looking skulls on the mantelpiece.

Virgil mumbles his thanks. “What do you wanna do?” he asks Roman. He really didn’t think Roman was gonna say yes, so he was grasping at straws here.

Roman was about to suggest something when a loud noise came from the upstairs. It sounded like glass breaking. Both boys quickly ran upstairs to see what happened. In the hallway was the broken remains of a vase. Beside the shards sat Damion, still underneath the makeshift ghost costume.

Virgil panics. “Damion!” He carefully maneuvers himself around the sharp shards of glass to get to his younger cousins. He pulls the sheet off him. “Are you alright?”

The seven year old frowns sadly. “I thought I’d be able to walk through the wall…” he says. He crosses his arms and pouts. Virgil adjusts his witch’s hat with a sigh.

“You know you can’t do that.” he says, turning around to carefully pick up the shards of glass. Damion pouts unhappily, but then looks up to spot Roman standing there awkwardly. The small child screeches in surprise, causing Virgil to look up to see what was wrong now.

“Vee! There’s a vampire in your house!” Damion squeals excitedly, running over to Roman in wonder and awe. Roman looks at the seven year old curiously before falling into character.

“Tis I! The great vampire prince Roman!” Roman says dramatically, flashing a smile at Damion that exposed his fangs. The seven year old’s eyes widen.

“Wow! Your name is Roman?” Damion asks, tilting his head curiously. He was fascinated. “Like Roman King from the Drama Team? The same Roman that Vee-”

“-shares a science class with?” Virgil interrupts, having cleaned up the glass. He gives his cousin a subtle look, and the seven year grins mischievously in return, as if he knew what Virgil was hiding. And know he did. He snickers and scampers off to his room, leaving the two alone.

Roman looks at the two cousins. “And was the cousin you mentioned before?” he asks Virgil and the emo nods with a sigh. “He seems cute.”

“More like a menace.” Virgil grumbles. “I’m sorry about that. Damion's a bit… clumsy, I suppose.” He looks down, afraid to see Roman’s face. He heard Roman chuckle and his head snapped up.

“Don’t worry about it Virge.” Roman says. “He reminds me of Remus when he was younger. A little reckless rascal, you could say.”

Virgil sighs with relief. “Yeah, that.” he says, heading downstairs. Roman follows after.

“Why don’t we watch a movie?” Roman suggested, sitting down on the couch. “We can eat the remaining candy while we’re at it.” Virgil looks at him hesitantly. Should he? He sits next to Roman and places the bowl of candy between them.

“Sure Princey.” What could possibly go wrong?

***

Virgil and Roman both agreed to watch the Nightmare Before Christmas. The entire movie, the two boys spent it in a relatively comfortable silence. However, there was something there between them. Something different, but not unwelcome. Virgil reaches inside the candy bowl to get another Hershey’s Kiss, but accidentally brushes against Roman’s hand. They both look at each other and freeze.

“Sorry….” they both say at the same time. “No wait- what I mean is- you have this wrong-” The two of them continued to be in sync, embarrassing Virgil and amusing Roman to no end. Virgil eventually turns back to watch the movie, unable to stand whatever that moment was. Roman does so eventually, and the two of them fall into routine. Everything was ok, going smoothly, until Sally began to sing her song. Virgil listened with rapt attention. Sally’s Song always held a soft spot for Virgil. The song always reminded him of himself, a small speck within the view of the one person he liked. He knew he never had a chance with this person.

He hums along with the song as he reminisces and remembers. Roman looks over and looks at Virgil, listening to the low humming. He tilts head and gets a thoughtful look on his face. When the scene ended, and the silence overcame them again, Roman reached out and paused the movie. Virgil looked confused. “Roman, what-?”

“Virgil, we need to talk.”

The tone of voice made Virgil freeze in his place. “Talk.” Virgil echoes. He frowns. Did he do something wrong? Was Roman mad at him? Did he waste Roman’s time due to a miscalculation and miscommunication on his part? He begins to hyperventilate, feeling terrible for wasting Roman’s time. He breathes, quick, shallow breaths.

Roman was beside him immediately. “Virgil?” he asked urgently. “Can you hear me?” At Virgil’s nod, he continues.

“Ok, Stormcloud. Breathe in for four seconds.”

Virgil does so, breathing in.

“Now hold for seven seconds.”

Virgil does so, holding his breath.

“Now exhale for eight seconds.”

Virgil exhales, feeling slightly better. He repeats the familiar breathing exercise for a couple of moments. “Thanks…” he says to Roman with a shaky thumbs up.

Roman nods. “You’re welcome.” he says. “What happened, Stormcloud?”

Virgil draws his knees close to his chest. “When you said we had to talk so suddenly, I thought you were upset with me.” he says. “I know, I know, it’s a stupid thing to get anxious from, and I should be over it but-” Virgil groans unhappily. Now Roman really was gonna think he was a loser or something.

Roman gasps. “Sweet mother of sugar plum fairies!” he exclaims. “I had no idea- oh Virgil, sorry that I caused you to have such a scare. But what I was gonna talk to you about isn’t bad, I promise.” He sits a comfortable distance from Virgil so as to not freak him out.

Virgil nods in surprise. Roman didn’t think he was a loser? “No, you didn’t know. It’s ok.” he says, taking another deep breath. “So, what’s up Princey?”

Roman clears his throat. “Well, I wanted to talk about us.” he says, and upon seeing Virgil’s panicked face, he presses on. “I said it’s nothing bad! It isn’t…. hopefully.” Seeing as that didn’t make Virgil’s expression on his face even better, Roman continues. “We’ve been friends for a couple years now, and I like our friendship with our snarky back and forths and all that. But lately, it’s been weird between us, yes? Just the awkward glances and the silent conversations we have with each other. There’s something there that wasn’t there before. Do you know what I’m talking about, Virgil? What that something is?”

Virgil nods, somehow unable to speak. His heart pounded in his chest, nervous. What was Roman gonna do?

Roman continues on. “I think… that I love you, Virgil.” he says firmly, looking Virgil in the eye. “Nay, I know that I love you. I love you and everything that makes you, well, you. From your dark eyeshadow and clothes to you pale skin and snarky humor. I love all of it. I don’t care if you’re too anxious or too sarcastic, I love you for you. You’re a beautiful, dark painting, a gothic masterpiece made to be adored. You’ve cast your spell on me and bewitched my senses, my Exquisite Enchanter, and this is a spell I wish will not break.” He takes a deep breath. “I don’t know if you return my feelings or not, but I just had to let you know. Virgil, will you be the Trick to my Treat?”

Silence fills the room as Virgil takes in the confession. Roman looks down and readies himself for the rejection, the fall out, the foreseeable tragedy that will befall his love life. He hears Virgil sniffling and looks up at his love with tears . “Oh Virgil.” Roman says softly, feeling his heart break. Is this what rejection feels like? “I’m sorry… if I hurt your feelings. I’ll leave you be, then.” He gets up from the couch and walks hastily from the door, trying so hard not to cry. He knew he shouldn’t have opened his mouth, and now all his efforts were ruined, all for nothing. He should just-

“Roman, wait!”

-stop in his tracks and whirl around to hear what Virgil had to say. Roman does just that, turning around and seeing Virgil sitting halfway on the couch, as if he was ready to chase after him. “Yes?” Roman asked, feeling hopeful. Was he not being rejected?

Virgil wipes his tiny tears away. “Don’t just leave when I haven’t even told you my answer, you ass.” he says, looking at Roman. He wasn’t that good at emotions, but he was gonna try, dammit. “Roman, you absolute himbo of a man, you make me have butterflies in my stomach when you’re around.” Off to a great start, Virgil. “And when you’re around, you make me feel…. happier. I don’t feel as sad because you make sunshine appear in my stormy skies. I admire you and your creativity and passion for the things you do. Not only do you make your characters come alive, you make my heart skip a beat whenever I look at you.” His ramble begins to slow down. “You’re my hero in my darkest days, never failing to make me smile with our snarky commentaries. And you, being you, are so amazing in your own unique way, from your talents and charisma and long story short, Roman, I love you too. And yes, I’ll be the Trick to your Treat.”

As soon as Virgil finished speaking, Roman swept Virgil off his feet. “Oh my darling Stormcloud!” Roman exclaimed, laughing at Virgil’s surprised squawks. “I’m so happy you return my affections. I’ll make you the happiest emo witch in the whole entire world. You won’t regret this!” He finally puts Virgil back down, but he still holds him.

“I think I already am.” Virgil groans jokingly, quickly holding onto his witch’s hat as he’s spun and put down. But he smiles bright at the thought of being Roman’s boyfriend, looking up at his vampire with a fond grin.

Roman gasps. “I think this is the first time I’ve seen you smile so bright!” he exclaims. “It is radiant like the sun, a beauty to behold!”

Virgil hides his face in his hands. “Roman stop!” he pleads, embarrassed with all the analogies and compliments.

“Never!” Roman exclaims happily. “I’ll never stop because you’re mine~!”

Virgil rolls his eyes. “Bite me.” he says jokingly, then freezes.

Roman’s face morphed into a teasing smirk, fake fangs on display. “Well, if my Bewitching Beauty insists,” he says, leaning closer to Virgil, pulling the emo towards him. He was so close to Virgil now and the emo gulps nervously, feeling Roman’s breath on his lips. He stops however, looking at Virgil, searching his face for consent.

Virgil nods silently, afraid to even speak. Roman then, slowly, presses their lips together in a slow, sweet kiss. It wasn’t rushed, or messy. It felt perfect for the both of them. And what a perfect way to end Halloween night. A vampire and a witch, in love, who’s only witnesses are the spider curtains, the realistic fake skulls, and a mischievous seven year old who witnessed everything and was definitely not going to tell anyone what he saw. And they wouldn’t have it any other way.

The End

Taglist:

@princessglittermageline @fire-and-ash67 @nini-panini-wears-a-beanie @princey-the-dramaking

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders mention #patton sanders mention #janus sanders mention #remus sanders mention #prinxiety #logicality mention #demus mention #cursing tw #tw cursing #food tw #tw food #hyperventilation tw #tw hyperventilation

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minghaocouture · 4 years ago

Text

Fearless: Chapter 10

Pairing: Werewolf!Jeon Wonwoo x Vampire!Reader Genre: Romance, Fantasy, Non-Idol Au Warnings: Language WC: 3.4k+ AU Lore: Vampire Coven Info/Wolf Pack Info/Lore Info Tag List: @moon-asia @uglychildd @woozisnoots @hwangjangmi @rjsmochii @fluffyhyeju @darkacrimson @skjdln @moonchild9499

Couldn’t Tag: @unbaeknownst, @Angelmingyu

A/N: We’re just gonna pretend it’s not 1am and I didn’t upload this super late lol. I also wanted to leave you guys with a little cliff hanger <3

Chapter List: Chapter 1/Chapter 2/Chapter 3/Chapter 4/Chapter 5/Chapter 6/Chapter 7/Chapter 8/Chapter 9/Chapter 10/Chapter 11/Chapter 12/Chapter 13/Chapter 14

It was far too early for it to be this loud in this house. Running on a different internal clock than the other occupants of this house proved to be more of an issue to you than you had originally thought.

Now here you were, head hidden under a pillow as you tried to block out the rummaging and chatter from downstairs. You were trying to get over your previous prejudice of the wolves and their pack, but as of this moment you were finding it really hard not to keep hating them, if only for the noise they were all currently making.

A groan left your lips as you heard another loud crash from downstairs. Rolling over and burying your face into the mattress, as if that would help. Hell it didn’t even block out the small laughter in the room you were currently in. Peeking out from under the pillow, you glanced over to the bed that Wonwoo had slept in the night before. He was now sitting up and staring at you, laughing at your struggle. To add insult to injury he apparently decided that sleeping shirtless was something that was okay, even with you in the room.

“Oh laugh it up, wolf boy. We’ll see who's laughing when I find a way to wake you up in the middle of the night.”

“I mean, I could always stay over at your place and give you the opportunity?” The suggestion had you quickly exiting your pillow hiding place and sitting up to face him. Eyes wide as you stared at him, confused by his sudden bold words. “Or...you could call me late at night until I wake up. That works too.”

Rolling your eyes at his quick backtracking and letting out a loud yawn, “I mean, the first one is kind of an option, but I’m still not too sure if i’m going to have a ‘place’ after all this is over with.” You retorted, lifting your arms in the air as you stretched. Working the muscles a bit so they would be less tense. You had been trying to not think about that. Becoming a stray wasn’t something you would want to happen, after all it wasn’t like you wanted to be basically alone for the rest of eternity. Which is what would happen if you were cast out, you definitely weren’t going to join a different coven. It’d feel wrong.

“Well, what’s...what’s the deciding factor? I, well none of us really know all that much about how Vampires work, well besides the basics. And...how to kill you.” That was fair, you barely knew about werewolf living. Deciding to lighten the mood a bit, a grin made its way onto your face.

“Alright, I’ll tell you that if you tell me why all of you look about the same age. It’s...actually kinda weird.” You knew that Werewolves weren’t immortal like Vampires, but something about how everyone in this house looked the same age was a bit off putting. It wasn’t huge, but it was strange, you figured that packs would have like older wiser wolves, like your Coven’s with the Venture, not just a bunch of people in their 20s.

A brief moment of realization hit you, causing your eyes to widen as your thoughts raced. If you were Wonwoo’s mate and he was...only 20. That was, understandably, a bit weird. You were well over a century old, and if he was 20 you were old enough to literally be one of his great great great grandmother. That had to be creepy.

Apparently you had been broadcasting your thought process across your face, cause once again that familiar deep toned laugh spread through the room and causing a rather strange chill to tingle down your spine. It wasn’t a bad chill, just unexpected. Masking that feeling with an irritated scowl, you grabbed your pillow and hurled it at his head. Catching it, he placed it on the bed next to him before speaking up again.

“That actually has to do with our mates. We stop aging when we turn 20 until we find out mate. Well, find and actually uh…’mate’ with the mate.”

“So you won’t age unless we have sex?” You questioned, not bothering to tiptoe around the subject. “Wait...wait a damn minute. You won’t age unless we have sex? How old are you then?”

He paused for a moment, taking a minute as he seemed to be thinking about his own age. Which honestly was something you could relate to. After so many years alive, they kind of just start blurring together.

“I’m going to be 93 this year.” The relief you felt at those words had you letting out an audible sigh. At least you weren’t some creepy old woman compared to him, that would have just been weird if he had actually been 20. Well, to you it would have been. You knew others, mainly Soonyoung, would disagree. Though he definitely wasn’t the best example, considering he still considered himself to be 24 despite being 132.

Realizing that you had once again become lost in your own mind, you turned your attention back to Wonwoo and noticed that he was staring at you. The look in his eyes caught you off guard, it was almost as if you had just hung the stars in front of him with how intent his gaze was. It seemed that now with this mate business out in the open, he didn’t feel the need to hide anything. It didn’t make you uncomfortable, and in fact you wouldn’t mind seeing that look more often. Letting out a small cough to focus yourself once more, you decided to hold up your end of the exchange.

“So, technically all the major decisions in the Coven are made by the Inner Circle. Which includes our Venture, Soonyoung, the Primus, Junhui, as well as two of the other members, Minghao and Chan.” You began, unfortunately Vampire politics was extremely annoying to deal with at times, which is why you weren’t going to go into what a Venture or Primus was unless he asked. Thinking about it, you honestly didn’t know how Minghao put up with it all, he seemed to hate it almost as much as you did.. “I’ve technically got one vote in my favor, and probably one against me, but i’m not too sure how Chan and Soonyoung will react so it’s all up in the air.”

You were pretty sure that Minghao was still on your side, at least you hoped he was. Despite his neck being on the line too, you knew that he wasn’t the type of person to throw others aside, he was loyal if nothing else. You could say the same for Junhui, but he had been pretty upset though, and if Junhui was upset then Soonyoung would probably listen to him and if that happened then you knew Chan would as well. So basically it all would depend on how Junhui reacted to you...walking out after yelling at him...and basically inviting him to kick you out.

So you definitely hadn’t done yourself any favors.

You hadn’t realized that Wonwoo had gotten up until you felt the bed shift a bit as he took a seat next to you, his hand reaching for yours and the instant comfort you felt at that contact was almost ridiculous. A thought passed through your mind, wondering if the feelings that were rushing through your brain were simply from this mate thing between the two of you...or if they were real. That would be a question for another day though.

“I’m sure everything is gonna turn out fine. You gotta trust them a little, Covens are kind of like families right? Just like our pack. So i’m sure they’re going to look out for you too.” You weren’t sure if he knew how much those words meant, and you certainly weren’t going to tell him. After all, you had to keep at least some of your tough image. Though...around him you could probably drop it...just a little bit.

You felt yourself subconsciously scoot closer to him and without even thinking about it you found your head resting on his bare shoulder. He tensed at the added weight but soon the hand holding yours had adjusted to where it wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you closer. You weren’t sure if the Mate thing had anything to do with how you were feeling, but you weren’t about to move now.

“I’m sure you’re right.”

You weren’t sure how much time passed, the two of your just sitting there in silence. But it wasn’t long enough.

The door to the room practically slammed open and you felt your body push itself as far away from Wonwoo as you could. Going so far as to even shove him away as well. Eyes snapping to the door you were greeted by Mingyu, who’s grin could only be described as ‘shit-eating’. He really did have a punchable face, and he was only proving it more.

“Cheol wants you guys to come to breakfast.” He said, obviously holding back laughter as he looked between the two of you. If looks could kill, you were sure that Mingyu would have been dead twice over just from the look Wonwoo was giving him. More than that if you were being counted in the equation.

You groaned as you watched Mingyu close the door, making over exaggerated kissing noises, followed by the sound of footsteps and him yelling something to the other wolves. Which you could assume was related to what he just walked in on. Meeting him for the first time, you were already wondering how someone like Wonwoo could handle being his roommate.

“Is he always like this?”

“I love him, and he is my best friend...but yes, yes he is.”

***

You were pretty sure you were only here so Seungcheol could keep an eye on you. It’s not like you were eating or anything, and the only reason you had a seat was because Sana was still bed ridden. It seemed that some people weren’t taking too kindly to you intruding on their breakfast, and the atmosphere had gotten so tense since you arrived. So it was going about as well as you had expected it to.

A few of the pack, mainly Wonwoo, Vernon, Jacob and Felix, did try their best to seem welcoming but everyone else present was definitely more on edge with you around. Especially Changbin, and if you were being honest his constant glaring was starting to get a bit annoying. First he complained about having to keep the curtains closed while you were around, then it was he didn’t want to sit across from you at the table, and now it was a completely different story.

“Why does she have to sit in here? It’s not like she’s going to eat anything.”

You felt your eye twitch ever so slightly, your jaw clenching in irritation. It was harder to fight your more stubborn and temperamental nature, but you were playing nice so attacking him (even verbally) would probably put you on thin ice. Despite knowing this, you weren’t one to sit back and get verbally harassed.

“She’s a guest, we’re not just going to make her hang out around the house alone.” Which was definitely Seungcheol’s code for, ‘she’s technically still an enemy so we don’t want to give her free range of the house’. It didn’t take a lot to read that guy, he was a good leader or Alpha as they called it, but he was an open book.

Changbin scoffed, shoving another serving of rice into his mouth before he did. To his left Felix let out a small sigh, obviously wishing the other male was in a better mood. The male across from you, the taller stone faced one who you were fairly certain was named Hyunwoo, spoke up.

“Have you heard anything from the human? Or your coven?”

His question had you shaking your head, but you did pull your phone out to check once more just in case someone had messaged you during, what you were calling, the worst breakfast...ever. You weren’t surprised to find a plethora of messages from Hyunjin, asking where you were and over all just kind of freaking out, there were also several from Siyeon, Kevin and Yuna, and even a few from Gahyeon and Eunbi. None from Minhyuk or any of the inner circle though. Which was what you expected. The inner circle was probably trying to decide what to do with you and well, Minhyuk likes hearing about the drama from a distance.

“Nothing from the Inner Circle, no. I am planning on checking in with Minah around noon, and if she agrees to the plan then I’ll go grab her from the bar and bring her back here.”

“And how are you planning on doing that? It’s not like you can go outside before dark and get her. And your whole plan is useless if the stray sees the two of you together. Or did you not think of that?” Once again Changbin decided to speak up, gracing your nerves with tiny spikes of irritation. “Or is there even really a stray in the first place! I still don’t believe you’re telling us the truth. You were probably just a distraction so one of your other disgusting friends could attack Sana.”

If you cared less about your phone, you probably would have broken it with how hard you were squeezing the device, but thankfully you knew self control. Or at least you pretended like you did. It seemed though, that Changbin was just determined to push your buttons, and you’d had enough.

“You know, I didn’t take this shit from my Coven, and let me tell you, i’m not going to be taking it from you.” You began, trying to cool your expression as you stared at the male at the other end of the table. You heard Wonwoo sigh from next to you, of course since he knew you the best he probably saw this snap coming. “Kiddo, you can hate me all you damn well want, but I want you to remember that I’m here to help you. So I’m gonna need you to back off.”

A loud slam sounded through the room as Changbin’s palms met with the hardwood of the dining table. A low growl slipped from his throat as he glared at you, obviously about to jump across the table to make this more of a physical confrontation. Silence fell over the room as his harsh gaze met your stoic one, sure you were pissed but this wasn’t the place to 100% lose your cool. From your side you heard a small growl leave Wonwoo as well, it was almost sweet that he felt the need to defend you, but you certainly didn’t need it.

“You think throwing a tantrum like this is gonna make me leave?” You questioned, a brow raised as you stared down the male who you assumed was younger than you. “It’s not gonna work, I am the Queen of tantrums and loud outbursts and let me tell you now, you don’t scare me.” It was definitely stupid to edge him on like that, especially since you were a guest. You’d probably come to regret it later but for now you were going to show that you weren’t someone that just got walked over. He would understand that.

For a moment you wondered when you started sounding like Minghao, maybe his general attitude was affecting you after all this time. It was amusing to think about, if this was how he and the others felt whenever you acted out. You’d have to question them...well if things worked out in your favor that is.

The air was thick with tension as the sound of a chair scraping against the linoleum cut through the silence.

“Changbin, sit down and finish your breakfast then go and get ready for your classes. ” It wasn’t too surprising to see Seungcheol standing from his seat at the end of the table. He was almost like a father, vaguely you wondered how old he was, it was impossible to tell just by looking at him. His eyes then found themselves looking directly at you. “And you, come with me.”

Would it be safe to say you were in the doghouse now?

Sliding your chair back, you felt something grab your wrist. Looking down you noticed it was of course Wonwoo, staring up at you with concern. Concern that you brushed off. Sure you had probably just pissed off the leader of the group that was housing you, and he could easily attack you or resend his invitation to the home which would end up hurling you outside into the unforgiving and burning sun, but that was too negative to think about at the moment even for you.

Despite your attempt at being nonchalant, Wonwoo gently tugged you closer to him so that his lips ended up right next to your ear.

“If you need me, just call.” the words caused you to chuckle slightly.

“You’re sweet, but I’ll be fine.” Was all you said in return, pulling away from him and following Seungcheol out the double doors of the dining room, to the right down the hallway and into what looked like a living room.

Once inside, you heard a sigh escape from the male as he took a seat onto one the weathered arm chairs. He gestured vaguely for you to join him and sit down. Taking the free chair on the far left of the room, it was a pretty comfortable chair. You definitely weren’t thinking about taking it with you or anything though. Glancing back over at Seungcheol, you watched as he lifted a hand to rub the bridge of his nose.

“You’re really not making this any easier for any of us.”

“Excuse me, for not just sitting around and taking shit from someone who is probably half my age. If not younger. ” You retorted, rolling your eyes. You could tell from watching Seungcheol that he was a good leader, probably better than Soonyoung (though with Soonyoung gone all the time, the bar wasn’t super high to begin with) but leadership can definitely take it’s toll.

“That’s the point. Changbin is only 33. He’s still technically a kid by our standards and he’s a little rough around the edges but…” he trailed off, you could see that he didn’t really want to talk about this. It probably didn’t help that you were a complete stranger. “The point is, even if he attacks first. If you fight back I have to be on his side.”

“That sounds like something a shitty leader would say.” The words slipped from your lips before you could even think of stopping them. You could tell that Seungcheol was taken back by them almost as much as you were. “I mean, should a leader be willing to tell their people when they’re in the wrong? I’m trying to play nice here for the sake of both of our groups, but I’m not just gonna let him talk shit to my face. Fixing things is a two way road, I can’t do this if he’s unwilling to even look at me without the intent to rip my throat out.”

“I understand but-”

“No, I really don’t think you do. I’m sticking my neck out to help you guys. I might lose my place in my Coven, my family, because I’m here. I’m not gonna do that, and get trash talked by a fucking kid.” The anger from the dining room, the fear from your current situation, everything seemed to be finally reaching a head. Your limbs shook lightly as you stared him down, not with an intent to fight, but with all of the emotions you were currently feeling.

He lifted a hand, stopping you from continuing. The room filled with silence once more as he seemed to contemplate your words. After a moment, he nodded solemnly.

“You’re right. I guess we’re all trying to work on ourselves during this. If we do go through with the mission tonight, Changbin will stay home. I think it’ll be best for everyone that way.”

Before you could respond, the loud tone of your phone rang through the room, signaling a phone call. Seungcheol gestured for you to answer it, which you were going to do with or without his permission.

The caller ID was definitely not a name you were expecting to see.

Soonyoung.

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jamielea81 · 5 years ago

Text

Conversations

Chapter 12

Description: You accompany your friends on a day trip to Animal Kingdom Theme Park where you meet Scott Evans by chance. This one afternoon leads to a year long friendship with both Chris and Scott over text messages and phone calls.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warning: Little angst, lot of fluff. A curse word or two.

Word Count: 5,542

A/N: I know nothing about the lives of the Evans family and mean no harm. This is purely fiction and for fun. Reblogs and comments are much appreciated! The tag list is now closed. Each chapter tends to get reblogged from me a few times, so if you’re following me, you can’t miss it.

*Italics are internal thoughts

Catch up with Chapter 11

A less drunk person would be more concerned that her old friend, kind of ex flame, and now kind of friend is sitting comfortably in her favorite chair in the middle of her living room. As if this is how one normally spends a Saturday night. But not you. Those last few shots really took the edge off. You were happily munching on tacos with the boys. Albeit making a mess, but you would have to worry about that tomorrow.

“I want mouse ears!” Chris fake pouted.

“Ya can’t! It’s a Sassy and Grumpy exclusive,” Scott stated.

“’Sides, you don’t have a nickname. Oh! Dork! Dork is your nickname,” you shouted.

“Dork is not my nickname,” Chris said.

“Yeah, even I think that’s bad,” Scott said, earning a shove from you.

“Should we watch a movie?” you asked.

You were tucked closely next to Scott and Zach on the couch while Chris sat in the upholstered chair on the far end of the couch from you.

“Princess Bride?” Chris asked, eyes hopeful.

“Nooooo. That makes me sleepy,” you whined much to Scott’s enjoyment.

He threw his arm around your shoulders and pulled you close. “Does someone not want to go sleepy?”

“I just ate a bunch of tacos,” you sighed out, patting your stomach. “We should go swimming!”

“I don’t think so sweetheart,” Chris quickly said.

You stuck your tongue out at him. No one said you were mature.

“Buzz kill!” Scott yelled.

“Party pooper!” Zach added.

Chris apparently would be babysitting the drunks tonight. He did not see that coming when he booked his ticket late Thursday night.

With most of the taco mess cleaned up, you grabbed a few of throw blankets from your bedroom closet and passed them out. Zach was already out with his head laying against the back of the couch.

Chris queued up the Hangover. Poetic Justice? Maybe.

Scott had gone to the kitchen, mixing you a random cocktail of whatever he could find in your refrigerator. It wasn’t a good idea, but neither of you were thinking.

“Heeeey. What’s that?” Chris asked pointing at the two glasses in Scott’s hand as he takes a seat and passes one to you.

“Mind ya business,” Scott answers firmly.

“Do you both need to still be drinkin’?”

“Yes,” you answered simply enough, taking a long drink from the glass, promptly coughing at the burn. “Is this that raspberry shit?” you questioned Scott.

“We have to use it up,” he said with a shrug.

You closed your eyes and took another big sip, promptly sticking your tongue to the taste. Chris chuckled, shaking his head.

“You guys are idiots,” he said.

“Takes one to be one! Wait. Takes to be one to know one! Damnit!” you shouted.

“Takes one to know one!” Scott shouted.

“Thank you,” you said, laying your head on Scott.

“I got you girl,” Scott said.

“Can always count on you,” you said pointedly to Scott.

“Heeeey,” Chris chided.

Surprisingly Zach slept through all the shouting.

The movie played on with the three of you contently watching. Twenty minutes in, Scott zonked out, his head resting on Zach’s stomach. Both of them lightly snoring in tandem much to your amusement. The two allies had suddenly left you defenseless against the eldest Evans. You were in no state to talk to Chris and you really hoped he didn’t bring up the two of you dating again in your weakened brain capacity.

Maybe I should go to sleep.

Deciding to chug the rest of Scott’s specialty concoction, you quickly got up to rinse your glass in the sink before briskly walking into your room. You realized quickly that you were not staying in your own room, so you quickly backed out the door and into the guestroom.

“Night, Y/N,” Chris called out. You waved your hand, but didn’t bother to turn around.

You weren’t sure what time it was, having left your phone in the living room and not bothering to install an alarm clock in the guestroom. All you knew is you were sick. You woke in a cold sweat, body shaking, slightly disoriented as to where you were. You needed to get up and get to a bathroom before you made a mess on the bed. You cursed yourself for drinking so much just because Chris had shown up. This was mostly Scott’s fault by feeding you shots earlier in the day. The tacos and chugging that last drink were strictly the fault of your own.

On shaky legs, you got up from the bed, and slowly moved to the door, opening it with what little strength you had. You made it to the hallway but then your stomach started to turn. You quickly dashed across the hall to the bathroom, well, dash was a strong word. One foot was able to push off the ground with some semblance of agility before you other knee started to drop. You practically slid across the hardwood floor, scrambling on hands and knees to the toilet, promptly emptying your stomach into the bowl. You started to cry, always hating the way your stomach convulsed as if it was no longer connected to your body. A second wave of nausea hit when you felt a hand on your shoulder. The person kneeled beside you, brushing back the damp pieces of hair from forehead as you held onto the bowl for dear life.

It wasn’t until he spoke, did you know that it was Chris that was rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“I got you sweetheart,” he said softly.

The tears continued to flow as you dry heaved a few more times into the toilet bowl.

“Do you feel like you’re done?” he asked gently.

You nodded your head yes slightly. You were afraid too much movement would cause another wave of sickness.

Chris got to his feet, gently placing his hands under your armpits to slowly lift you up. Once you were off the ground, he held onto you with one arm and lowered the toilet seat with the other.

“Why don’t you sit down for a moment and I’ll clean you up.”

He helped you lower yourself to the closed lid before moving to the linen closet to grab a washcloth. He turned on the hot water and let it run for bit before soaking the cloth then ringing it out. Chris wiped gently around your mouth before bringing it back under the water again and ringing it out a second time. He ran the cloth over your forehead and then along your cheeks.

“Do you think you’re going to throw up again?”

“No, I think I’m done.”

Chris nodded his head. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

“I need to,” you point at your mouth and scrunched your face. Chris chuckled, moving back into the closet pulling out a bottle of mouth wash.

You got up gingerly, holding on to the vanity for support. Chris place an arm around your waist to keep you steady while you rinsed your mouth.

Although you were weak, you probably could have managed to get back to bed by this point, but Chris wasn’t letting you go. The two of you walked across the hall with one of his arms wrapped around your back before gently helping you settle on the edge of the bed.

“I really think we should get you changed; you’ve soaked through your t-shirt. You nodded in agreement.

Chris turned to the closest opening the accordion style doors before turning around to face you.

“S’not my room. The dresser in my room,” you said, pointing out the door.

Chris gave you a gentle smile before exiting the room. You heard him knock lightly before hearing the sound of muffled voices. You were still pretty drunk and still unaware of the time. In the morning you would be embarrassed, right now you just wanted to lay down and go back to sleep.

Chris came back in the room a short while later carrying another t-shirt and gym shorts.

“Let’s get you out of this sweetheart,” he said, setting down the change of clothes next to you.

He pulled at the hem of your shirt as you lifted your arms for him to pull it over your head. Chris kept his eyes on yours and you frankly couldn’t look away. Once the new shirt was situated, you stood up on unsteady legs and slid your sleep shorts down. Chris grasped your hands as you stepped out of the shorts. He knelt down to help put the new pair on as you rested your hands on his shoulders for support.

“You’re all set.”

You dropped to your butt, scooting up the bed to get to the pillow. Chris pulled the sheet and blanket over your legs and then brushed the palm of his hand over your forehead.

“Thank you,” you mumbled.

“I’m going to grab the trashcan just in case you need it,” he said while leaving the room. He was back a second later, setting it on the floor near your head. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“No room,” you said slight shrugging a shoulder.

Chris grinned, lowering his head and shaking it. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

“Okay,” you replied sleepily.

Chris came back in the room carrying two pillows and a blanket, setting them on the ground before leaving the room again. He entered again this time carrying two couch cushions, placing them on the floor on the other side of the bed before retrieving the pillows and blanket and laying down.

“Now remember, your trashcan is on that side, I’m on this side,” he said. You hummed in response. “Night sweetheart.”

You didn’t respond as your senses were coming back to you slightly with your emotions on the brink of escape.

“Y/N, are you still with me?” he whispered.

Tears started to sprout for the corners of your eyes. You held your breath, trying to pretend you were asleep, but it came out like a whimper in your drunk state.

Chris sat up, placing a hand on the mattress. “What’s wrong? Are you going to be sick again?”

It was dark, but your eyes had adjusted and you could almost make out his face. You attempted to hold back the tears once more but it was of no use.

“Sweetheart, please tell me what’s wrong.”

“I-I’m sad at you,” you whimpered out, fat tears rolling down your cheeks.

It was the best way to describe how you felt about the two of you. You weren’t mad, although you had been mad when you first saw the photos, you were generally just sad at the situation. Sad that the last two times you were supposed to get together hadn’t turned out.

“You’re sad? At me?” he asked. You nodded your head yes and closed your eyes. Chris got to his feet, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Baby, I’m so sorry that I hurt you.”

You opened your eyes, seeing that his face was much closer to your own. “It’s not all you. I’m just sad that this didn’t work out. It’s too hard,” you said between soft sobs.

Chris leaned forward, placing a kiss on your forehead. One hand wiped the tears from your cheeks. “Can we please talk tomorrow? I promise there’ll be coffee.”

You gave him a small smile and nodded. The two of you really needed to talk about your relationship. In the middle of the night when you’re still drunk is definitely not the right time.

“Okay.” He stroked your cheek again before pulling up the blanket to your chin. “Try to get some sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Goodnight,” you said softly.

“Night,” he said, going back to the floor.

It was morning, but you were still unaware of the actual time. The room was bright with the shades doing nothing to block the sun’s rays. You stirred slowly as the massive headache did not aide your motivation to get out of bed. Zach and Scott weren’t set to fly out until late afternoon, so at least you knew that you had not missed their exit. You were sure Scott would wake you anyway.

You remembered a lot of the night, well, mostly what had occurred when you woke up and found yourself sick with Chris taking care of you. The rest you remembered bits and pieces. Starting now, you were officially giving up drinking shots. You were much too old to drink all day, especially shots.

Leaning over the side of the bed you saw that Chris as well as the cushions, pillows, and blanket were gone. It was probably for the better as you didn’t want to have that conversation right this minute.

When is he flying out anyway?

After taking a few more minutes for yourself, you crawled out of bed and walked across the hall to the guest bathroom you found yourself very acquainted with last night. You brushed out your hair, washed your face, and then brushed your teeth. Showering could wait until later.

Taking a big breath, you opened the bathroom door and shuffled down the hallway to your living room and kitchen. Scott and Zach sat at the kitchen island eating pancakes while Chris maned the stove making more.

“Hi,” you said shyly. This was your house, but it felt odd to have other people living in it while you slept.

“Good morning, princess,” Scott said, getting up from his barstool. He pulled you into a hug and rocked you back and forth. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit. How about you?”

“Better now that I ate something.”

You hummed in response, leaving his embrace to place a hand on Zach’s shoulder before walking up to Chris at the stove. You placed a hand on his upper back while you went to stand beside him.

“Hey sweetheart. How are you feeling?”

“Massive headache, but otherwise I’ll live.”

“How many do you want? You gotta eat,” Chris added when you didn’t immediately respond.

“Just two.” He nodded, flipping over the pancakes that were in the pan. “Listen, thank you for taking care of me last night.”

“Of course,” he said, turning to face you. “I’m sorry you got sick, but I’m glad you were able to get some more sleep after.”

You gave his arm a squeeze before turning back and taking a seat next to Zach at the island.

Scott and Zach left your place at two in the afternoon. Scott whispering “good luck” in your ear after hugging you goodbye.

Chris and you walked back in the house, both heading into the living room sitting on opposite ends of the couch.

“So,” he started

“Thank you again for taking care of me last night. I drank way too much, though Scott is most to blame for that.”

“Why were you guys day drinking anyway?”

You chuckled softly to yourself. “Okay, um. Hmm. I’m pretty sure Scott was trying to get me nice and drunk because he knew you were coming.

Chris wiped a hand down his face but his lips were turned up in a smile. “Suppose I deserve that.”

“No one deserved that. Especially my liver. I still feel like dying.” You gave him a soft smile, grabbing a throw pillow and wrapping your arms around it. “So, why did you come out here anyway?”

It was an honest question. You had called off whatever the two of you were a week ago and then he shows up at your door.

“I wanted to see you and spend time with you. I know you want to go back to being friends and I will respect that, for the time being,” he said.

“Such a brat,” you said.

“Me? Me?”

You took the pillow in your hand and wacked him with it.

“Well, I am happy to see you. How long are you staying?”

“A few days?” he asked. “Didn’t exactly book a return flight.”

You shook your head and scrunched up your lips at him.

“Well,” you said, clapping your hands together. “We need groceries. And you do realize I have to work.”

“It’s fine. Told you, I’m your pool boy,” he said wiggling his eyebrows. “Besides, I get you for breakfast and dinner. And I’m just realizing how dirty that sounds.” He said chuckling.

“Oh my god! Such a brat,” you said shaking your head once again. “I’m visiting Boston in October.”

“You are?! Staying with me?”

“Scott.”

Chris pouted his lips.

“Don’t give me that look. He offered and you told me your house is having work done,” you reasoned.

“Still livable. Just can’t use like half of it,” he shrugged. “Maybe a third by October.”

There was a beat of silence before Chris’ smiling face turned serious.

“I don’t like that you’re sad about us. I want us to get back to what we were, before a dating relationship even began. You are one of my closest friends. You mean so much to me, Y/N.”

You grabbed his hand and scooted closer to him.

“You’re one of my closest friends too. When we first started talking regularly, I never thought it would be anything more than that. Then you got a little flirty with me and I flirted right back. Then one day you surprised me and said you were coming out here and we had a good day together. Well, a good second day together,” you said, earning a smile from him. “Then you kissed me and it changed everything. I just didn’t realize how hard it was going to be. The distance. You live an entirely different lifestyle from me and I’m not used to that. Don’t think I’ll ever be used to other women throwing themselves at you. I mean, I can’t blame them, but it’s not something I want to see. I need more than seeing you once every few months, even once a month. If you’re filming, that’s one thing. But in the beginning of our relationship, not to be able to see you and plans getting canceled last second. It’s just not helping.”

Chris takes your joined hands in his other hand. “You’re right. We weren’t being fair to us. I wasn’t being fair. Let me show you what we can be. Please let me show you how great we can be together. I should’ve said.” He licks his lips. “I should have said from the moment we kissed that I wanted to give this an honest try. There’s shit I have to think about more. Need to think about the stuff I don’t normally have to when I’m seeing someone from the industry, or someone who lives in the same city as I do. That’s on me and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have canceled on you this last time.”

You shake your head at that. “This is your job Chris and you got that role. You had to go.”

“I coulda pressed to reschedule. Shoulda called you after because of course, you’re important to me. But I was stupid and got drunk.”

You shake you’re head again. “I’m not trying to change you. You’re allowed to celebrate with friends. Just maybe think about me during those moments. Send me a text. I think it bothered me more because we were supposed to be spending that time together. But I should have spoken up and said, ‘hey, can we Facetime when I get home?’ so it would have been like we were still together like we planned.”

“You’re right. I think we both need to be a little more honest with what we want. I’m willing to take this slow if that’s what you want, but I’m not trying to spend time with anyone else. I’m not going to do that to you.”

You took a deep breath, exhaling slowly out your nose. The idea of trying again was scary. Would it be much of the same? Only seeing each other every few months wasn’t something you wanted.

“How would this work?” you asked.

“Well, much like yesterday, I’d fly in more often. You have to work every week, so it’s easier for me to come to you. I won’t take any last-minute meetings when I have plans to be with you. We’ll…”

“I want to go on dates,” you interrupted. “Like actual dates. Nothing that’ll draw unwanted attention to you, but I think jumping right into semi living together isn’t going to do us any favors. Not that I don’t want you here. I want you here. But people go on dates.”

Chris chuckled. “Dates.” He nodded his head slowly. “Yeah, people go on dates. We can do that. Every time I’m here, I owe you a date.” His eyes crinkled and you couldn’t help but stare.

Do his eyes always crinkle like that?

“Oh! Okay. Good,” you said with a nod. “Good.”

“I promised you coffee today. I know it’s already way past morning, but do you want to go to that place you love?”

“Um, nah, we can skip it today.” you said nervously.

Chris gave you a questioning look. “You sure?”

“Well, uh.” You licked at your lips. “Me and Ethan, my ex, we used to go there every Sunday. Don’t want to run into him by chance,” you said with a shrug. “We’re not on bad terms or anything. Would just be kind of awkward to run into him there.”

“Then we find our own place. A place that we go to every time I’m in town.”

You smiled widely at that. Our own place. Suddenly you had the urge to kiss him, so you do. It was fast and chaste but it felt right. You pulled back to see a large grin on Chris’ face.

“We are still going slow,” you reminded him.

“Of course. Didn’t even think otherwise. I do have a question though.”

“And what’s that?” you asked.

“Do you only get to decide when we kiss?”

Smartass.

“Well, I suppose you get to decide on the half the kisses. It’s only fair after all.” Chris started to lean in. “But! We are going slow,” you reminded him again.

“Right, right. I’m taking you on a date tomorrow anyway. So, maybe I’ll get that kiss.”

“Maybe.”

There was something so domestic and familiar about coming home from work to find Chris on your couch watching TV.

“Honey, I’m home.”

“Cute,” he said, getting up. “You need to get changed into something casual. I’m taking you out.”

Oh! Right. We have a date.

Despite you being the local, Chris had taken it upon himself to look places to go nearby.

Dressed in jeans, a short sleeved pink blouse, and flats, the two of you were out the door twenty minutes later. Chris insisted on driving you in his rental, something about it being the date he planned so he was going to drive.

Thirty minutes later, Chris pulled into a nearly empty parking lot of a brewery you hadn’t been to.

“They have a food truck here that’s supposed to be really good,” he said.

“Sounds good to me!”

The two of you decided to grab a table outside rather than going inside where it was a bit more crowded. The patio had an overhang with a few ceiling fans as well as white twinkle lights that ran the length of the cement slab. There were over thirty brews and ciders on the menu, so Chris spent a good amount of time going over the menu, sending the server away more than once. You couldn’t help but laugh each time he told her we needed more time. You decided on a pineapple cider within minutes of arriving. After much deliberation, Christmas ultimately decided on a plain old lager.

“That was an amazing thing to experience,” you said with an amused tone.

“What was?” Chris asked, eyebrows furrowing.

“That whole taking a long time with the menu thing,” you said gesturing one hand down the drink menu in the middle of the table.

“Hey! I have a particular set of taste buds that need to be thoroughly pleased. One does not simply pick a beer at random Miss cider. What’s up with that? Cider…”

“It’s got pineapple! It’s yummy,” you said sticking out your tongue at him.

“M’sure. What do you say we go take a look at that food truck?”

Chris pulled in your driveway at ten minutes to nine. The two of you walking hand in hand to the front door. You tempted to let go of Chris’ hand to grab the keys from your purse, but he wasn’t having it. He pulled you until you spun around and into his arms as if he were a salsa dancer.

“Whoa,” you said, your arms resting on his shoulders for stability.

He grinned at your response, one arm going around your waist while his other hand rested on your cheek.

“What are you doing?” you whispered.

“Kissing you goodnight.”

And he did. It was slow, almost torturously slow. You peeked your tongue out of your mouth, but he wasn’t playing fair as continued to mold his lips to yours. It was all soft lips and gentle caresses that you let yourself melt into. He slowly removed his lips from yours but kept his face close, time almost standing still.

“Maybe we can do this again sometime,” he said softly.

Heat instantly filled your cheeks. He was a such a dork, but he was your dork.

“M’hmm,” you replied. “I think I’d like that too.”

He kissed you again, but this time you pulled back first. “Okay, bye!” you said, turning away from him, unlocking the door and closing it in his face. Really, this was a date and he already kissed you goodnight, it was only fair to toy with him a bit.

You counted to ten and then slowly opened the door. Both palms of his hands were resting on the door frame as he leaned forward, head bowed down.

“Are you coming in or what?”

“Sassy, livin’ up to that nickname,” he said walking through the door and closing it behind him.

When you were ready to turn in for the night, you kissed softly outside your bedroom door before sending him to the guestroom for the night.

Chris left two days later with promises to return soon. You felt a lot better about your relationship this time than when it first began. Having a serious talk about your feelings really was needed. He really wanted to give your relationship a go even if it meant going slow.

Two and a half weeks later, Chris was warming your front door with a big smile and a small suitcase. He cooked you pesto eggs before work the next morning and took you to the cinema for a late night showing. He didn’t press when you set the guestroom up for him again this trip. As much as you wanted to, you didn’t want to jump right back into bed together.

The next day you were supposed to be at work, but instead, you were in your favorite coffee shop, in the back corner away from the noise of the afternoon coffee breakers. A little bit of guilt plagued you because Chris was in your home while you were supposed to be in the newsroom.

Asia Williams’ business card sat snug in your grip with your cell phone’s keypad waiting for you to simply type in her digits. You needed to do this. Chris was making all this effort to come see you. Despite your plans to be in Boston next month, he had already made plans to come see you in another two weeks. Even though Chris was an experienced traveler, he would eventual run himself ragged.

Taking a deep breath, you dialed Asia’s number and crossed your fingers.

“Asia Williams,” she answered.

“Hi Asia. This is Y/N Y/L/N. We met at the conference last month. Brooks Cole’s friend.

“Yes, hi Y/N. It’s nice to hear from you. Have you thought more about my offer?”

“I have actually. I’m looking for a change, but I have something I’d like to propose,” you said.

“Okay, I’m listening.”

“I’d like to stay on as a freelancer with the Orlando Sentinel. I’d only cover Disney for them. Ride openings, hotel openings, major anniversaries. It’s the Magic Kingdom’s 50th next year. But otherwise I’m exclusively yours.”

“And the Sentinel’s okay with this arrangement?” she asked.

“I believe they will be, but I wanted to run it by you first. If they’re not, it will be tough to part ways, but I believe you organization is the next step for me.”

“I believe it is as well. Why don’t I send over a contract, you speak with the Sentinel, and call me if you have any questions.”

“Thank you, Asia. I’m very excited to come aboard.”

“I’m excited to have you. Do you think you’re going to stick with your home base of Florida like Brooks did?” she asked.

“I’m not entirely sure yet, but a big move is on my mind.”

“We’ll chat soon then.”

“Sounds great. Talk to you soon.”

You took another deep breath, letting it out slowly as a large grin eased itself on your face. This was going to be a big change, but you were ready for a challenge.

You grabbed a coffee on your way out the door. You needed to meet with you boss James before he left for the day, a surge of caffeine is exactly what you needed.

“Honey I’m home!”

“Is that ever going to get old to you?” Chris asked from your kitchen.

“Nope.”

“What do you think of chicken parm for dinner?” he asked.

“I think that sounds delicious, but I’m taking you out to dinner instead,” you said, giving him a quick kiss on the lips.

“Not that I don’t like this whole you treating me to dinner thing, but what’s the occasion?” he asked.

“We are celebrating. I got a new job,” you grinned.

“You did?” he exclaimed. “I didn’t even know you were looking for something different!” He threw his arms around you hugging you tight.

“Honestly, I’ve been thinking about a change for the last two years, but I was scared to make a move. I still have to look over the contract a second time, Jana’s already looking it over for me too, but it’s pretty much good to go. It’s going to be a lot different. I actually met with my boss at the Sentinel and they are going to keep me on as freelance. Basically, I get to cover what I want when it comes to Disney.”

“That’s great sweetheart! Where will you be working?”

“News Now. It’s an online news source.”

“I’ve heard of it. Actually, I use it quite frequently. That’s amazing. Since it’s online, do you get to work from home?”

“That’s actually one of the benefits. I can work from anywhere. Visit my family, visit you, and still work. I get to take on stories I care about. They want a lot of opinion pieces from me too. I’m nervous as hell, but also really excited.”

“This is amazing,” he said, giving you a quick kiss and then pulling you into another hug.

With happy and full stomachs, the two of you went to bed after watching a few episodes of The Office.

It was such an exciting day that you were finding it hard to sleep. First, the guy you were seeing was in town, not only in town, but in your house. Secondly, you got a new job. Not only was it something new, it was a change that would fulfill that part of your life completely. Thirdly, you were able to stay on with the paper, keeping your credentials to attend media events of your choosing. It was like you won the happy life lottery today.

After tossing and turning for another hour, you got out of bed, threw open your door, and walked with determination down the hall. Stopping in front of Chris’ room, you knocked on the door quietly. If he didn’t answer, you’d just go back to bed and watch TV.

Maybe Scott’s still awake.

Before you could turn around and go back to your room, the door opened.

“Sweetheart, everything alright?”

“Ye-yeah. It’s just. Okay, you know.” You let out a breath as Chris looked on, arms folded across his chest. “This is silly. Will you come sleep with me?’

He chuckled light, sleepy grin on his face. “Yeah. I can do that.”

Just because you weren’t ready to jump back into an intimate relationship, it didn’t mean you couldn’t snuggle and sleep in the same bed.

“Let’s go to bed sweetheart,” Chris said, gesturing toward your bedroom door.

Chris pulled the covers back on the side you didn’t sleep on and laid down on the bed. This was the first time Chris had slept in your bed, and you couldn’t deny you liked the look of it. Crawling in next to him, you turned off the lamp on your nightstand and snuggled up on his chest.

“Goodnight babe,” you said softly.

“Goodnight beautiful.”

Chapter 13

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#chris evans #scott evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #conversations #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans imagine #scott evans x reader #chris evans x reader insert

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snowdice · 5 years ago

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Road Trips and Missing Persons (Part 13)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Patton & Virgil, Virgil & Deceit, Logan & Patton, Emile & Remy, Roman & Remus & Janus

Characters: Patton, Virgil, Deceit, Remus, Roman, Logan, Emile, Remy

Summary: Patton was just getting groceries. The next thing he knew, there was a knife at his throat and he was an unwilling uber driver. Virgil’s on the run after the murder of his dad, and it’s not just his paranoia that’s telling him he’s being chased down. He has to get somewhere safe, somewhere he can trust, and all he has is a couple of stories from his dad and a name: “Green Bellow Foods and Dispensary.”

Notes: Secret Agents AU, knives, carjacking, kidnapping, murder mentioned, guns mentioned, pepper spray, blood mentioned, drugs mentioned, explosions (more to be added)

This is a fic I’ve been writing on study breaks that you have probably all already seen at this point. I’ve affectionately named it the Goblin Brain Fic because it’s helping my brain actually get motivated for studying. I’ve slightly edited it for wording and grammar, but not for content from my previous posts. Feel free to send in asks to direct it because I’m not 100% sure where this is going and you can help decide if you feel so inclined! You can see the process I went through to build this at this link.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 My Master Post

Remy was slumped down in his seat as Emile continued to lecture him on all the possible consequences of his actions over the past 24 hours. Jeezy creezy was Emile miffed about all of that. Remy had been trying to blow it off, but Emile was fully, painfully aware that he’d almost had lost his brother today and Remy was going to hear about it until Emile’s lungs aches.

“And another thing…” he said.

“Wait,” Remy said, and Emile did because there was a lace of panic to his tone.

“What?” Emile asked.

“The tracker stopped working,” Remy answered pushing buttons a little bit desperately on his device.

“It went completely offline somehow,” Remy said.

“Did it get turned off?” Emile asked. “Or run out of batteries?”

“It doesn’t turn off and the batteries are designed to last for years,” Remy said. “It can even track through 20 feet of water. The only way it could stop sending a signal this abruptly is if the thing was destroyed.”

Emile paused. “You said Virgil knows what the blinking light means.”

“Yes.”

“Is it possible that he knows, or well, ‘knows,’ you’re dead? Barbara did send a man after him, he could have mentioned it.”

Remy stared down at the device in his hands.

He pressed a couple of buttons and studied the screen for a moment. “You little shit,” he groaned. “You threw it out the fucking car window, didn’t you?”

“How do you know?” Emile asked.

“Because if I look at the history, it was going at 65 miles per hour down the interstate, suddenly stopped cold, and then went offline probably when another car inevitably crushed it.”

“Ah.”

“Well, at least the fucker’s probably okay. Dammit Virgil! Where are you going?” Remy pushed a few more buttons almost idly as he thought. “Let me get into Virgil’s head for a minute: emo music, dark clothes, would rather have his toenails ripped out than go to parties, makes split second decisions based on little info. Yep! Got him.”

Emile rolled his eyes, but Remy wouldn’t have noticed as he had his own eyes closed. “Hmm. So, I’m Virgil. My bitch mom killed my dad and sent someone after me. I have no idea what’s going on, but I bolt out of there because fuck mom. I want to get the hell out of dodge so I convince someone to drive me somehow, I guess, but where would I want to go? Someplace safe. Where’s safe? Maybe Emile, but obviously that’s not where he went. Or Janus, but he’s too connected to mom. I don’t really know anyone else, especially not someone who could help with this sort of stuff.”

Remy thought for another long moment. “Oops.”

“Oops?” Emile asked. “What oops?”

He could tell by the expression on Remy’s face that he was not going to like the answer. “I may have let something… slip.”

“What do you mean, Remington?”

“Um, well you see,” Remy said. “A couple of months ago Virgil was being, you know, himself: a little shit. He may have, possibly, found some papers.”

“What kind of papers?” Emile asked.

“They were nothing important!” Remy assured. “There wasn’t any dangerous info in them or anything, but…”

“But?”

“It is somewhat possible that they had the name on them.”

“How possible?” Emile asked, eyes narrowed on him.

“He asked what Green Bellow Foods was and why they needed 50 top-of-the line computers outfitted at an old factory.”

“And what did you tell him?!”

“Nothing!”

Emile glared at him.

“Okay, well I had to tell him something,” Remy mumbled. “I just kind of said that I knew the owner well and was working with him on some stuff. Then I told him not to worry about it, which was probably a mistake, because he’s Virgil. So, then I found him snooping in my car. At that point I had to sit him down and talk to him. So, I told him a bit about Logan.”

“Remy that’s not nothing!”

“I didn’t use his name or anything. I just told him a couple of really, extremely, tremendously, vague stories, so he didn’t think I owed money to the mafia. Which, yes, he did suggest.”

“That’s worse!”

“What do you want from me Emile?!”

“Some common sense!” Emile answered. “I’ve been comparing you to the rat in Ratatouille for years, but I’m starting to think you’re more of a Pinky from Pinky and the Brain.”

“Hey, ouch,” Remy replied. “Also, I personally subscribe to the theory that Pinky is actually the intelligent one who is foiling Brain’s evil plots from the inside. So, there.”

“Now is not the time,” Emile said.

“Oh, it’s not the time to discuss cartoon theories?” Remy mumbled into his lap. “Must be serious.”

“It is serious! Virgil is missing!”

“Don’t you think I know that?!” Remy snapped. “I know, Emile.”

There was quiet. Emile took a breath. “Okay,” he said, calmer. “Do you really think he’s going to Logan?”

“He’s headed somewhere,” Remy answered, “and wherever that somewhere is, it’s inexplicably down the most direct route towards base.”

“Well, Virgil is smart. I don’t think he’d just keep going so quickly without a destination in mind. We should call Logan.”

“Do you honestly believe Barbara doesn’t have your phone tapped when Virgil is missing? If you had one of Logan’s phones, I might agree with you, but as it is, we’d be giving away our position, and possibly clueing her into Virgil’s plan. If he shows up at base, Logan will take him in no question. It’s less dangerous for everyone this way.”

“Fine,” Emile said. “We’ll just keep driving towards Logan and hope you’re right about where he’s going.”

“Of course, I’m right,” Remy said lightly. “I’ve got the paternal instincts going on. Course, they didn’t stop the knife throwing incident of ’09. I blame Janus for that, though.”

Emile shook his head at him.

“It is good for when he tries to steal sweets, or that one time he brought home a baby piglet and tried to hide it from me in his bedroom. Or when he’s feeling anxious about something but won’t tell me because he thinks it’s silly.” Remy’s own fingers tapped out an anxious pattern against his knee. “It also worked with the golf cart incident, but it was too late. Again, I blame Janus. He messes with the paternal instinct meter. He’s far too unpredictable and I make the mistake of thinking he’s responsible, which he is half the time, but the other half of the time I remember that he’s still mostly a kid and one that grew up in an unstable environment. Did I tell you that last month they went and won a bunch of tickets at the arcade and used them to get those 5 ticket rubber ducks and just unloaded them all over my room? Honestly, you’d think a 21-year-old would have a better use for his money or at least have the brains to go buy them at a store. He could have gotten like 500 more ducks for the same amount of money. Of course, it was his mom’s money, so I guess I can get behind wasting it on arcade games and rubber ducks. The prank was apparently based on some comedy sketch Virgil found online.”

“You’re doing the thing again,” Emile pointed out calmly.

“Stop psych evaluating me,” he shot back.

“Fine, fine,” Emile said. “Keep distracting yourself from your emotional responses with silly stories. See if I care.”

“Thank you,” Remy replied. “I will.”

Emile sighed as he started back up again mumbling something about having taken away Virgil’s Gameboy after catching him playing it at 3 o’clock in the morning. He claimed this wasn’t because the boy hadn’t gotten any sleep on a school night, but because he’d insulted Donkey Kong to Remy’s face. After that story had run its course, Remy continued to babble at an increasingly fast pace about all sorts of things. Emile imagined most of the stories he sprouted off were quite embellished.

Emile had tried to turn on the radio once, but Remy had slapped his hand away saying, “The next one’s a really good one.” So, he had resigned himself to his fate of tuning out Remy’s coping mechanism to the best of his abilities and just focusing on driving for the next 45 minutes. Which is probably why he noticed that traffic had strangely decreased. He didn’t really pay the fact that much mind until the traffic suddenly increased… in the form of a wall of stopped cars.

“Jenkies, what’s going on?” he asked, as he came to a stop at the end of the line of cars.

“Um…” Remy said looking out of his car window. There, staring into their car with beady black eyes was a cow. As Emile watched, said cow leaned forward to drag its tongue across the passenger side window. “Shit.”

Want to read more? Click below!

Part 14

#sanders sides #remy sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #platonic remile #remus sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #road trips and missing persons #adriana writes #murder mentioned #emile piccani

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toohardtoforgetcth · 5 years ago

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Too Hard To Forget

Chapter Eight

5,082 words

A/N: evenin’ angels, pls enjoy - the second-last smol chapter of fluffiness basically but also swearing and sadness and death sorry love y’all

Requested: I added a lil scene at the beginning for anon who wanted a reunion between Parker and Gram, the chapter was already written so I had to tweak it a lil. Hope it turned out okay, anon! thank you for the ask <3

» » » » » »

When Calum woke up the following morning, it took his brain a split second to register that Parker laying in his bed was real and not just a fever dream. His mind played through the events of the night before, his body tingling from all the places Parker had left her mark on him. They hadn’t gone to sleep until past four in the morning, so he wasn’t surprised to read 11:47 on the clock on his bedside table. Calum absently dragged his finger back and forth over Parker’s upper arm, watching goosebumps rise in its wake.

She stirred, blinking her eyes and lifting her head to stare up at him. He smiled down at her. “Mornin’ angel,” he rasped.

“Still the King of waking me up before I’m ready, I see,” she mumbled, smiling sleepily.

“Couldn’t help myself,” he shrugged. “I’ve missed you.”

Parker answered his confession with a press of her lips against his. “Any big plans today?” she asked him.

“Lunch plans with Gram, but other than that, I’m all yours,” he answered. “You can come if you like,” he suggested. “It’s been a while.”

• • • • • •

After a shower and a quick stop at Parker’s to change her clothes, Calum pulled the Charger into Gram’s driveway, cutting the engine.

Parker pushed down the uneasy feeling in her stomach. I’m nervous. Should I be nervous? She asked herself. She wasn’t sure why she felt nervous – the break-up was Calum’s idea, but still she felt weird about showing up uninvited at Grace’s house after sleeping in her grandson’s bed only a few hours after breaking up with her ex-boyfriend. She followed Calum up the steps, standing one step behind him as he knocked twice and pushed the door open.

“Gram?” he called out, shucking off his boots and ushering Parker inside.

“In the kitchen, dear!”

Calum grinned at Parker, guiding her through the kitchen door in front of him. “I found a stray.”

Gram turned around, gasping when she recognized Parker. Her face split into the warmest smile and she rushed over. Parker was surprised at the old woman’s strength, she was hugging her so tightly. “Parker, it’s so good to see you!”

All of Parker’s nerves melted away as she relaxed in Grace’s grip, hugging her back. “I missed you, Grace.”

Grace and Parker chatted over lunch, leaving very little room in the conversation for Calum to join in, which suited him fine – he was just happy to have the two loves of his life in the same room again.

“Calum, dear, I think the tap in my bathroom is leaking again. Could you take a look at it for me?” Gram asked Calum sweetly.

“Sure thing, pretty lady,” he replied as he disappeared into the garage to get some tools.

As soon as he was out of the room, Grace took Parker’s hand. “I can’t tell you how happy it makes me that you two worked things out,” she beamed.

“We haven’t really talked about it yet," Parker started. “We only talked a little bit yesterday, and it was mostly just catching up,” she admitted.

“There’s lots to catch up on, I’m sure,” Grace winked, and Parker laughed. “But I know you two. There’s nothing in this world that could keep you apart. That boy loves you more than the sun and the stars, and he is never going to let you go.”

“I don’t know, Grace. He was so willing to give up last time. What happens next time when things get hard, and he tries to run away again?” It was a thought that had plagued Parker’s mind since her reunion with Calum, despite his efforts to reassure her that he was wrong and he wouldn’t make the same mistake again. She wanted to believe him, but he had hurt her and she didn’t want to go through that again.

Grace wore a sympathetic smile. “I know it must feel scary to let him in again, after what he did,” she squeezed Parker’s hand. “But let me tell you something about Calum. He has been through hell and back in his short life, and he is very good at putting up a barrier between him and other people, so he doesn’t get hurt. He pushes everyone away because it’s easier than fighting a losing battle. You know what happened with his mother, my Lina. She never fought for Calum, and he carries that hurt in his heart every day,” Grace wiped a tear from under her eye before continuing. “He’ll never tell you this himself, so I’ll do it for him – he needs someone like you, Parker. Someone who will fight for him. He deserves all the love in the world and I know you love him. He just needs someone who won’t give up, who won’t abandon him like his mother did. He will make mistakes, and sometimes he’ll try to push you away. I promise you that if you stick with him, and you don’t give up on him, he will give you everything you ever dreamed of. He has so much to offer, and when he opens up, there is no one in this world with a bigger heart. I’m so proud of how much he’s done for himself in the last year, but nothing makes him happier than you do. He just needs to know that he deserves you.”

Parker had tears welling up in her eyes by the end of Grace’s speech. She could have tried harder when Calum left. She called, but she could have done more. She was partly to blame in all this, too. She didn’t fight for him the way she should have. She could see that now, and she promised herself, for Calum, that she would always fight for him.

Parker leaned forward, hugging Grace tightly. “I promise I’ll take care of him,” she whispered.

“I know you will, honey,” Grace smiled. “Welcome home.”

» » » » » »

Parker and Calum were getting ready to head to The Wildflower for one of Calum’s shows, and Parker was sitting on the floor, playing with Duke while she waited for Calum to get dressed. She thought back on her life over the last year, how much had changed. The first time she came over to Calum’s apartment, Duke turned his nose up at her attempt to pet him. Now, he greeted her before Calum when they came inside. She smiled as she thought about how this man had become her home, and she couldn’t imagine her life without him.

Calum came out of the bedroom, buttoning his shirt. Parker stared at the stripe of skin showing on his chest until he buttoned it all the way, then finally lifted her gaze to his face. Chocolate brown eyes, full lips, dark curls messy but effortless. It annoyed Parker, how little effort he had to put in to look as incredible as he did every day, but her heart swelled with pride at the same time. This man was hers.

“I have something for you,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to her cheek and pulling a chain out of his pocket. It was simple; silver, with an intricate key pendant hanging on the end. On the back of the key, the letter ‘C’ was engraved.

Parker smiled. It was simple and dainty—exactly something Parker would have picked out for herself. “I love it,” she whispered, pressing her lips to his. “But what’s the occasion?”

“It’s metaphorical, since you don’t actually need a key for my apartment,” he grinned.

Parker just looked at him, puzzled.

Calum rolled his eyes at her lack of understanding—it was adorable. “I want you to move in with me.”

Parker just stared at him, eyes wide. “Are you serious?”

Calum chuckled. “Of course I’m serious, love. You wanna?”

Parker threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and planting a series of little kisses to his lips. She pulled back. “Are you really sure, Cal? I drive you crazy.”

Calum laughed. “I love you, angel. I want you with me all the time. Besides, you already stay over most nights. The boys love you, Duke loves you, I can’t think of any reason why you shouldn’t.”

Parker turned, lifting her hair so Calum could fasten the chain around her neck. She turned back to him, beaming. “Okay.”

• • • • • •

When they arrived at the pub, it was quiet; not as busy as it usually was, which gave Calum a good opportunity to play some new music.

“I’ve been working on this new one, think maybe I’ll try it out tonight, if that’s alright,” he spoke into the mic. “Less of you to disappoint,” he laughed lightly, and they laughed, too. These people had become like a little family—he felt so at home here. “It’s called Waste The Night.”

The crowd went wild for his new song. John caught up to Calum as he was packing up his equipment to tell him that he had another steady gig lined up for him at a restaurant on the West end if he wanted it.

It seemed that people were hearing about his music all across town, and Calum was elated. After so many years of feeling like he’d never amount to anything, he could finally say he was living a life he was proud of.

» » » » » »

“Michael, sit still. I can’t do this if you keep flinching.”

Parker was sitting on a stool in front of Michael, applying his makeup to complete his costume. Luke and Sierra, Luke’s new girlfriend, were throwing a Halloween party and Michael had begged Parker to do his makeup, but he had been sitting there for an hour and he was getting antsy.

“You’re getting it in my eyes,” he whined.

“It’s makeup. It’s literally meant to go on your eyes. You’re being a baby,” she rolled her eyes, smiling. She had grown very close to Michael in the time she’d been with Calum. She loved all the boys, but she spent almost as much time with Michael as she did with Calum. It drove him crazy sometimes, but in the end he was just happy his brothers loved Parker as much as he did.

Calum’s life had never been better. He played music for a bunch of different venues around town and the change in scenery kept things interesting, but it always felt like coming home when he played at The Wildflower. He and Parker had been living together for almost a year, and while it had been an adjustment for him at first, as it had just been him and Duke for over five years, his place felt like home with her there.

Parker’s parents seemed to warm up to Calum, too, after realizing that their daughter was head over heels for him and he wasn’t going anywhere.

Calum came into the living room and Parker did a double take at his costume. He was dressed as Danny from Grease—very little effort, considering the only difference from his day-to-day outfit of black boots, jeans and a leather jacket was the styled hair, but he still looked good—like, really good.

“Wow,” Parker breathed, almost forgetting that Michael was sitting there as she shamelessly ogled her boyfriend. “You look amazing.”

Calum gave her a sly grin and winked at her. “Thanks, doll. Where’s your costume?”

Parker looked down at herself, still dressed in lounge shorts and an oversized tee of Calum’s. “I’m not ready yet. I’ve been preoccupied with Michael’s makeup,” she said, gesturing to her handiwork, Michael smiling proudly. He did look amazing. He wore a black and white striped suit, and Parker had dyed his blonde hair neon green for the occasion. His costume was Beetlejuice, but she wanted to do her own less messy version of the classic character, so she did a purple smokey eye and added touches of green to the sides of his face and down his neck. He looked awesome.

The front door opened and Ashton walked in, carrying a backpack full of what was probably an assortment of booze. He was dressed almost identical to Calum—he was supposed to be Kenickie, also from Grease. Parker rolled her eyes at the boys’ complete lack of effort or originality.

Calum made the four of them a drink, Michael’s sitting untouched next to him while Parker finished his face.

“There,” she said finally. “Done.”

Michael stood up and walked over to the mirror on the wall by the front door. “Holy shit, P. I look amazing!” he gasped, a grin splitting his face. He lifted his fingers to inspect his face closer.

“Don’t touch!” Parker shrieked. “It’s not dry yet, you’ll ruin it!”

Michael jumped at her shrill tone, his hand recoiling. “Yes, ma’am,” he teased.

“I’m gonna go get dressed,” she announced, standing and collecting her assortment of special effects makeup from the table next to where Michael was sitting.

The last thing Parker wanted to dress as was Sandy—she felt like the costume was way overdone, but because of Calum’s costume, she decided it would make the most sense. She pulled on a pair of tight leather pants she had borrowed from Jenna, slipped into her red peep-toes, applied a red lip and draped her shoulders with a leather jacket to finish the look.

When she came out of the bedroom, all three of the boys stopped to look at her. Ashton whistled, and Michael’s response of “P, you look hot!” earned him a punch in the gut from Calum.

Calum walked over to her, spinning her around once and admiring her. “You do look hot,” he grinned. “You wanna forget about this party?” he whispered, pressing the softest of kisses to the spot just below her ear. “I could think of a better way to spend the night.”

Parker blushed, but there was no way she was missing out on this party, no matter how good he looked.

• • • • • •

When they arrived at the party, it was already chaos. Some people Parker knew through the boys, but most of them were strangers. Luke pulled Parker in for a hug and took her hand, leading her into the kitchen where he had set up a variation of liquor bottles.

“Take your pick, babe!” he exclaimed excitedly.

The rest of the boys joined them shortly after, where Luke and Parker had already downed three shots each. As Luke was pouring them all another one, Parker noticed Sierra hugging a petite girl at the front door, who had seemingly arrived alone. She was wearing an unmistakable Lydia costume. Parker leaned over to Luke. “Who’s that girl that Sierra is talking to?” she asked curiously.

Luke glanced over to his girlfriend at the door. “Oh, that’s Crystal. One of Sierra’s friends.”

Parker flashed a wry smile, and Luke looked immediately concerned. “Oh, God, I know that look. What are you on about?”

“Oh, nothing,” Parker waved her hand casually. “Just that she happens to be here all by herself, and that she’s wearing the other half to Michael’s costume.”

It seemed Parker was not the only one who noticed the similarity, because the girl’s eyes lit up in recognition as soon as she saw Michael, and she followed Sierra as she made her way back to the group of them in the kitchen. Sierra introduced her to everyone. She was really sweet, and Michael couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“I love your costume!” he said excitedly, taking a sip of his beer.

“Thanks,” she grinned. “Your makeup looks awesome,” she added, “did you do it yourself?”

Michael choked out a laugh. “No,” he shook his head, then turned and pointed at Parker. “Parker did.”

“How come you guys don’t have matching costumes?” Crystal asked curiously.

“Me and Parker?” Michael looked confused, then his face softened as he realized what she meant. “Oh, she’s not my girlfriend,” he shook his head, and Crystal’s face brightened immediately. “More like my sister, honestly. She’s with Cal. I’m flying solo.”

Parker watched their entire interaction with the biggest smile on her face. Michael was the kindest person she knew—it was about time he met someone as sweet as he was.

Calum snapped her out of her distracted staring when he held out his hand in front of her. “Care to dance, angel?”

» » » » » »

Christmas that year was different for Calum. He always spent Christmas Eve with the boys. They usually went out for dinner and had a couple drinks before making their way back to one of their houses to exchange gifts and watch a movie or two. Then on Christmas Day he went over to Gram’s for the afternoon and she made a big dinner for just the two of them.

This year, their circle had grown by four additional people, so it made sense to have a whole celebration with everyone there. They held it on Christmas Eve so the boys could spend Christmas Day with their own families, and everyone gathered at Gram’s house.

Gram was delighted to have a whole house full of people to cook for, since the last time she had a big holiday party was when Calum’s granddad was still alive. The boys would come over periodically for dinner, but that didn’t really count. All the girls—Crystal, Sierra, Ashton’s girlfriend KayKay and Parker helped Gram in the kitchen while the boys goofed off and relaxed by the Christmas tree. When they all sat down for dinner, Gram at the head of the table, Calum looked around at all his friends, his girl, and he was so thankful that he could call these people his family. After a lifetime spent hating the world and everyone in it, his life was good, and Calum was happy.

» » » » » »

Calum was at home working on some new music at the end of February when his phone rang. An unfamiliar number flashed on the screen before Calum answered.

“Hello?”

“Hello, I’m looking for Mr. Calum Hood,” replied a voice that Calum didn’t recognize.

“This is Calum.”

“Hello, Mr. Hood, this is Dr. Schilling from Blue Cross Regional Hospital. I’m calling regarding Grace Hood.”

Calum’s mouth went dry as his heart dropped into the pit of his stomach.

“Mr. Hood, I’m afraid we need you to come down right away.”

Calum’s hands were shaking, gripping his phone so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. “Is she—what happened?” he managed to reply, voice cracking.

Parker came down the hall from the bedroom, immediately noticing Calum’s rigid posture.

“It’s difficult to discuss over the phone—”

“What happened!” he demanded, voice rising to an angry yell.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hood. She passed away.”

The phone slipped out of his hand, clattering to the floor. Calum slid to his knees, fingers tugging on his hair as he rocked back and forth on his heels. He didn’t make a sound. He couldn’t breathe—he felt like the air had been sucked out of his lungs, gasping for air as he tried to breathe in deeply. Parker ran over, dropping to her knees in front of him and putting her hands on his shoulders.

“Calum! Calum, what happened?”

He said nothing as she shook him frantically, trying to get him to answer.

Finally, he looked up at her, his eyes glassy and tears pooling in his eyes and falling down his cheeks. “She’s gone,” he choked out.

“No,” Parker leaned back, shaking her head. Her eyes filled with tears, too. “No, she can’t be.”

“She's gone,” he whispered again.

And then his body shook violently, tears escaping as he sobbed, and Parker cried too, holding him, trying to comfort him while he mourned the loss of the only family he had. Grace was the most important thing in his life, and just like that, she was gone. Parker’s heart shattered into a million pieces as she watched the man she loved crumble in front of her.

• • • • • •

When he was sure he had no tears left to cry, Calum stood, eyes red and swollen, the sleeves of his sweater soaked with tears. “We need to go,” he said, voice thick and scratchy from crying. “We have to go to the hospital.”

The drive to the hospital was a blur—Parker didn’t really even remember getting there. She remembered calling Michael in a daze, telling him what happened before hanging up and letting him deal with telling Ashton and Luke. She remembered sitting with Calum in the waiting room for the doctor that called him. She remembered what the doctor told her—that she had a sudden heart attack, likely resulting from her head injury and there was nothing that could have been done. Grace’s neighbour called an ambulance but she was gone before she even made it to the hospital. Parker remembered walking with her hand firmly clasped in Calum’s as they entered the room that Gram was in, her body covered with a sheet.

Calum sucked in a breath, stopping at the door.

Parker stepped in front of him, blocking his view of the room. “You don’t have to see her,” she told him, cupping his face in her hands. “You don’t have to remember her like this.” She spoke calmly, though she felt anything but.

Calum shook his head. “No,” he sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “I have to.” It sounded more like he was convincing himself than anyone else.

Parker nodded and grasped his hand, holding tight as she walked with him to the bed.

“Can—can you—”

Parker nodded. She lifted the corner of the sheet, pulling it back slowly to reveal Grace’s face and upper body. She looked peaceful, like she was sleeping, but Calum and Parker both knew she wasn’t.

Calum’s resolve broke again, and the tears streamed down his face as he reached out slowly to touch her. He touched her hand, and it wasn’t warm like it usually was. He crouched down, body shaking with silent sobs as he rested his head on the bed next to the woman who raised him.

“I’m so sorry, Gram,” he choked, over and over. “I’m sorry.”

Parker just stood there behind him, helpless, rubbing his back in a futile attempt to calm him down, but she was crying, too.

After a while he stood, and he hugged Parker tightly, as if he was afraid she'd disappear if he let go. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, and she just held him while he cried.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” she whispered, sliding her hands up the back of his hoodie and rubbing soothing circles on his lower back.

She looked out the window of the room, seeing Michael, Luke and Ashton standing there with somber expressions on their faces.

“The boys are here,” Parker whispered.

Calum lifted his head, wiping his eyes. “Thanks for calling them.”

She followed behind him as he joined his brothers outside the room, the four of them coming together in a hug, comforting each other. Gram wasn’t just Calum’s family—she was all of theirs.

• • • • • •

Parker decided to take some time off work to be with Calum after Gram’s death. The night he got the call, Calum tossed and turned all night. Parker woke up in the middle of the night and found Calum gone. She got out of bed and went out into the living room, seeing him out on the balcony having a cigarette. She wrapped her arm around his waist, resting her head on his shoulder. He was silent for a few minutes, then he finally spoke. “Go back to bed, angel,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head. “I’m gonna have another smoke.”

The next morning, Parker woke, still alone. She wasn’t sure if Calum had come back to bed or if he stayed in the living room the rest of the night, but he was already awake. She sat up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. Duke was asleep on Calum’s side of the bed, and Loki was sleeping in his tree by their bedroom window. She rolled over, careful not to disturb Duke, and climbed out of bed. As she stood, she heard a loud crash from the living room, making her jump. This jolted Duke awake, his ears down and shoulders hunched from being startled, and Loki jumped off his tree and skirted under the bed. Parker heard another loud bang, followed by a third, all accompanied by Calum cursing loudly.

“Fuck!” she heard him yell, and she ran down the hall as she continued to hear the sound of smashing glass. She stopped in her tracks when she took in the sight of the living room—there were shards everywhere. The coffee table had been upturned, a large crack in the center, and several vases and picture frames were littered on the floor, a fine dusting of glass shards spanning from the entrance of the hallway where Parker stood, all the way through the kitchen and to the front door.

Calum stood in the middle of the room in nothing but a pair of sweats, his feet bare, hands laced behind his head as he looked down. She could hear him incoherently mumbling to himself, but she couldn’t make out what he was saying. She retreated back into the bedroom, quickly grabbing a pair of slippers and putting them on before closing the door to prevent their pets from walking through the glass.

She made her way over to him slowly, walking carefully over the glass. It was then that she noticed three large holes in the drywall, dust and blood covering the knuckles on Calum’s right hand.

“Baby,” Parker whispered. “What happened?” she asked stupidly, regretting her question as soon as it left her lips. She knew what happened, obviously. He was angry, and he took it out in the only way he felt could give him control.

“I should have been there,” he muttered. “I should have been with her,” he said as he finally looked up, and his eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot.

“Cal, there’s nothing you could have done. It was a heart attack. There was nothing anyone could have done to save her.”

“But she was alone,” he sniffed. “I should have been with her. She shouldn’t even have been living alone. I haven’t seen her since last Friday. We were supposed to have lunch on Wednesday afternoon, and I bailed ‘cause I wasn’t feeling good. The last time I talked to her was to cancel plans, and now I’m never going to see her again.”

If Parker’s heart hadn’t already broken yesterday, it was definitely broken now. Calum carried so much on his shoulders, and now he blamed himself for Gram’s death.

“It’s not your fault, baby,” Parker whispered. Calum ignored her. She grabbed his face, forcing him to look at her. “This wasn’t your fault. And she loved you. And she knew how much you loved her. You didn’t let her down. She was so proud of you.”

“I can’t believe she’s gone,” he whispered, shaking his head. He seemed to just notice all the glass all over the floor. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” he cursed, inspecting her to make sure she wasn’t cut anywhere. His eyes widened in sudden alarm. “Where are the boys?” he asked, thinking of Duke and Loki. “Fuck, I’m so stupid, I wasn’t thinking,” he muttered, taking in the state of the living room.

“They’re fine. I locked them in the bedroom,” she assured him. “Come on, let’s get this cleaned up and then I can draw you a bath,” she suggested, knowing how Calum liked to relax in a hot bath when he had a shitty day.

He nodded. “I’m sorry, angel. This was reckless. I could have hurt you.”

Parker shook her head. “It’s okay, I’m fine,” she promised him, but he didn’t seem satisfied.

“I just got so angry. At myself, at everything.”

Parker nodded. “I know, baby,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his bare torso and holding him tight. She lifted his right hand to her lips, pressing gentle kisses to his bleeding knuckles.

Calum swept up the glass while Parker righted the coffee table and picked up all the broken picture frames. She followed him with the vacuum, cleaning up all the tiny shards of glass he missed until they were sure it was safe for Duke and Loki to come out.

Once everything was cleaned up, Parker drew a bath for Calum and lit some candles, adding a lavender bath bomb to the tub.

She went out into the living room to tell him that the bath was ready, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you, angel,” he stood, kissing her forehead and heading into the bathroom, leaving the door open as he always did.

A few seconds later, Parker heard him calling for her. When she entered the bathroom, he was standing next to the tub, naked.

“Get in with me,” he gestured to the tub with a nod of his head. He didn’t mean it in a sexual way at all, he just needed to be close to her. Calum moved to where Parker stood, lifting her shirt over her head, sliding her sweats down and discarding them both next to his own. He got in first, leaning against the back of the tub before holding his hand out for her to step in. She settled in between his legs, resting her head in the space between his head and his shoulder. Calum wrapped his arms around her, his hands folded and resting on her stomach. They lay like that for a while, letting the hot water warm their skin, the smell of lavender relaxing them.

Finally, Calum broke their silence. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I love you, you know,” he murmured. “More than I ever thought I would be capable of.”

Parker’s insides melted, and it wasn’t due to the hot water. She lifted one of his hands, pressing a kiss to his palm. “I love you, too, Cal.”

Even though losing Gram had turned his world upside down, he knew things would be okay again, as long as Parker was by his side.

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