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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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shemarmooresfedora · 3 years ago

Text

Home

Series Summary: After being arrested, Spencer Reid desperately tries to get back home to his daughter, Camellia, who was placed into foster care in your home.

Pairing: Single!Dad!Spencer x Foster!Mom!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Content/Warnings: mentions of Diana’s Alzheimer’s and Schizophrenia, prison, separation of father and daughter, swearing

A/N: i hope you guys enjoy my new fic! this may be about 8 chapters or so! i’m not sure yet, going to see how interested people are in the plot :) (also quick disclaimer: i have never been in the foster care system so please excuse any inaccuracies)

Masterlist

Chapter 1

Spencer never wanted his daughter to see him like this, being brought into the BAU bullpen in handcuffs. He was supposed to be the good guy.

Right now, he couldn’t tell if he still was. He had good intentions going down to Mexico to get non-FDA approved medicine for his mom but he may have killed someone in the process. If only he could just remember.

Camellia ran into his arms to hug him, a hug he so desperately wanted to return if it wasn’t for these stupid cuffs around his wrists.

“They can’t just take you away, Dad,” she cried.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m going to get back to you as soon as possible,” he promised, kissing the top of her head.

Spencer felt absolutely crushed as the guards had to drag his crying 11-year-old off of him so he could be taken to his holding cell.

You had just gotten off of work when your phone rang. Eileen, the head foster care coordinator, was calling.

“Hello,” you answered.

“Hey Y/N,” she greeted you, “I know you haven’t had a foster kid in a few months but I kind of have an urgent case. 11-year-old sixth grade girl. Mom has been out of the picture for a while, Dad recently imprisoned and on trial for murder. There are a bunch of family friends willing to take her but no direct family,” she explained.

“I can take her for as long as she needs,” you told Eileen.

“Great! I’ll text you the address, it’s the FBI headquarters.”

When you walked into the BAU, still in your dino scrubs and white lab coat, Eileen was surrounded by a frantic group of people.

“As I said before, I don’t doubt any of your credentials but this is the law. We can only give away a child to direct family at this point in time. If you are not direct family, you will need a lawyer to fight for custody as well as permission from her father but that process could take months,” Eileen stated.

“Spencer hasn’t spoken to his father in years and his mother is in a facility for her schizophrenia and Alzheimer’s,” a dark-haired woman spoke.

“Exactly so she must be turned over to the foster care system. I apologize to you all but this is how it works. We can’t bend the rules,” Eileen said.

“I don’t want Callie fending for herself in a house with 20 other kids,” a blonde-haired woman argued, “I’m her godmother. She stays with me all the time. She was staying with me while Spencer was in Mexico.”

“Sorry, my answer is still no. But, hopefully this will squash your concerns, Y/N!” she called you over, “This is Y/N. Jo will be placed with her. She is a pediatric doctor and currently has no other foster kids at the moment but all of her past kids have absolutely adored her. She always passes her surprise safety and wellness checks with flying colors.

“Hi,” you waved, intimidated by this huge group of frustrated people with guns on their hips.

“A doctor? So she isn’t even going to be home most of the time,” a curly-haired man scoffed.

“Actually, I own my own practice. I don’t work at a hospital so I usually have a regular 8-4 shift unless one of my patients needs urgent attention,” you clarified.

“JJ, don’t make me go,” a girl, who you could only assume was Callie, sobbed.

They were all staring at you like you were the worst person on Earth. You wanted to shrivel up and die. When you went through the process of becoming a foster parent, you thought this was a very admirable thing to do. You just wanted to provide a good home to kids in need.

“Do any of you have a key to Dr. Reid’s residence so Camellia can pack a bag?” you asked politely.

The woman closest to Callie that must be JJ pulled a key off of her chain and handed it to you.

“I’ll-um-leave my phone number and address here so you guys can contact me at any time or stop by. I understand your concerns but please know I try my absolute hardest to make sure all kids feel welcome and safe in my house,” you scribbled your information down on a scrap piece of paper.

“Are you ready to go, Camellia?” you asked softly.

She went around hugging everyone in the circle before solemnly nodding to you.

God, you felt like such an asshole.

After Callie finished packing her things from her bedroom in relative silence, you returned to the car.

“I don’t know what you like to eat but we can stop at the grocery store so we can get stuff you like and any other things you need,” you said.

You were met with silence from the backseat. You offered for her to sit in the passenger seat but she declined.

“Listen, I’m really not trying to be the bad guy here. Please don’t make me out to be one. I know you are having a tough time with your Dad’s situation right now but shutting everyone else out won’t help,” you spoke softly, “Trust me, I know.”

You sighed when the silence continued. You pulled out of the Reid’s driveway and headed to the grocery store.

You let Callie lead when you entered the grocery store, opting to follow behind her with the cart. She went immediately to the frozen meal section and started throwing them in.

“Camellia, that’s fine if those are what you want but just so you know, I love to cook so I can make you anything you want,” you offered.

“This is what I’m used to,” she spoke sharply, “My dad is not a bad dad, he just usually doesn’t have much time.”

“I never claimed he was,” you defended yourself.

After that, you kept your mouth shut. Clearly, she was a very independent girl and she had her own routine she liked to stick to.

You hauled all the grocery bags inside the house and unloaded them as Callie brought in her suitcases.

“So Camellia, I put all the food you picked out in these two cabinets. I mean obviously, you are welcome to anything in the kitchen but I just wanted you to know where the things you picked out were. I always have a grocery list on the fridge that you can add to,” you began to give her a tour of the house, “Bathroom is in there. There’s another upstairs. Here’s the living room with a TV,” you headed up the stairs, “Here’s my room.”

On your bed was an adorable toyger kitten cuddled up on your pillow.

“Oh! This is Winnie like Winnie the Pooh. I just got her a few weeks ago from a shelter. She is super friendly and loves snuggles so she will probably try to sneak into your bed unless you keep your door closed.”

“I don’t mind,” Callie spoke softly as she petted Winnie.

You smiled softly. These were the first words you got out of her that weren’t a rejection.

You continued the tour, “There’s a bathroom between our rooms but I tend to use the downstairs one so feel free to make it your own. And here’s your room,” you opened the door to a white room with a queen bed in the center, a small bookshelf, a few plants, and paintings.

“I hope this is good enough for now. We can go out this weekend to a home goods store if you want to redecorate. I’d even be open to repainting it if you want,” you offered.

Callie just set her bags down and nodded.

“Alright, I’ll leave you be. I’ll probably be downstairs for a while watching TV if you want to join. Let me know if you want me to make you anything,” you began to shut the door but Winnie slipped in first.

“Good night, you guys,” you smiled softly.

“Do you want me to wait out here or come in with you?” you asked softly.

Spencer had been denied bail, meaning he was transferred to a federal prison and Callie was going to be staying with you for a while. She had taken the news rather hard as expected when the team came over to your house to tell her. You still weren’t really accepted by the group so you mostly stood in the corner of the kitchen while they were all in your living room.

You had spoken to Eileen several times about Callie’s current situation. She gave you permission to do whatever you saw fit. This means you could opt her out of school one or two days a week if she wasn’t feeling up to it as long as she emailed her teachers and got her missed work in on time. You were researching different therapists for her to talk to because she didn’t seem to want to open up to you. You were also given a schedule of visiting times for her to visit her dad in prison.

“I’ll just go in alone,” she walked in the door to the visiting room, leaving you in the waiting room.

“Dad,” Callie tried to hug Spencer but the guard pointed to the ‘No Touching’ sign posted on the wall.

They both sat down defeatedly at opposite ends of the table.

“How are you?” Callie inquired, wiping her tears away from seeing her father locked up.

“I don’t want to talk about me, sweetheart. How are you? Emily and my lawyer visited yesterday and told me you had to be placed into foster care,” Spencer asked, concerned.

“It’s okay. Not the best,” she sighed.

“What’s happening? Are they hurting you? Are they not giving you enough to eat? Callie, I’ll have my lawyer on the phone and you out of there so quick,” Spencer frantically stated.

“No, Dad. Y/N is fine…nice, even. But she’s not you,” Callie cried.

Spencer’s face softened, “I’m so sorry, Callie. You don’t deserve to be dealing with any of this.”

“Just please come home,” she sniffled.

“I’m trying, sweetheart, I’m really trying,” he replied earnestly with tears in his eyes.

A/N: i will also be starting a series taglist if you don’t want to be added to my main taglist so just clarify which one you want to join! also i recommend listening to the song Home by Phillip Phillips because it is kind of like the theme song for this story

main taglist (just ask to be added/removed!): @samuel-de-champagne-problems @g0lden-cth @spencerreid9 @averyhotchner @coldlilheart @k-k0129 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @harrystylesandthegoobs @cmily @jswessie187 @rem-ariiana @hoodpankow @mochionly @spencerreid-187 @babymetaldoll @fics4arainyday @ssavanessa22 @all-tings-diego

series taglist: @ilovespencerreidmarryme

#spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #dr spencer reid #cm fanfic #spencer x reader #reid x reader #criminal minds

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eclipixels · 3 years ago

Text

Saving Kaneki from going on that date with Rize

______________________________

The first time I had met him was at the school library. He had stumbled into my life, quite literally stumbled. He had tripped and fallen on top of me, knocking over most of the books from the fantasy section.

There he was, all shy with shining silver eyes and dark hair. He groaned and rubbed his head before immediately standing up and apologising, running back to an orange haired boy whom I assumed was his friend.

The next day, a Monday, it was going back to classes again. Most people were taking a break from everything and just going out since it was the weekend but I stayed in and read some fanfiction to release some stress. Dazai is good and all but sometimes you just need a brain break from all the high vocabulary and just read some cheesy love story written by a delusional 16 year old.

I had arrived to class early since it's nice when it's all silent and nobody is here. I sighed before taking out my textbooks and reading Sen Takatsuki's newest novel. I rested my chin on my palm as I engrossed myself into the pages of the book.

Suddenly, I noticed something from the corner of my eye, there was someone else here. It didn't take long for me to realize that it was the boy from the library yesterday.

He had 2 cups of coffee in his hand with one nervously held out towards me. I was a bit shocked since nobody had ever done a gesture like that to me before so I froze for a second before accepting the warm beverage.

"I'm really sorry I ran into you yesterday, I really didn't mean to, it was an accident and I didn't know where I was going, and um, I'm Kaneki Ken."

"It's alright. I didn't mind and you didn't have to get me this but thank you." I smiled politely.

"You're welcome and it really was no trouble. It's the least I could do to excuse my clumsiness." He shyly spoke.

"Would you like to sit down?" I asked as I noticed he was still standing in front of me.

"O-oh sure!" His eyes widened. He sat down next to me and pulled out his textbooks, mimicking the actions I had done prior to him arriving.

"Hey, is that Takatsuki's newest novel? How'd you get that? I didn't think it'd be out 'till next week!" The smile that lit up his face was something I'd never get used to and unbeknownst to me, would be the one I would slowly fall in love with.

"Oh, most shops have already had them shipped to them and are keeping them in storage until next week. A bookstore owner I know really well managed to sneak one out for me." I explained.

"Aw, no way! You're so lucky! Do you mind if I borrow it? I promise I'll give it back to you by tomorrow!" He exclaimed and I can swear I think I saw sparkles in his eyes.

"Um, Here, you can take it now since I finished it earlier in the morning." I handed the book to him.

Thus was the start of our friendship. Even though he was often busy with school more than me, (since he took more complex classes) he still had time to spend with me. It'd be small things from sitting silently next to me and doing his school work while I read any book that he had recommended to just going out for ice cream together in a nearby park.

Everyday he would seem to bring me a beverage whether it'd be my favorite coffee or something else. If he couldn't meet with me, he'd always have it delivered to my doorstep. It became a tradition for us.

Soon enough, I had met the orange haired boy that I had seen with Kaneki the day that I first met him and not long after had we also become friends.

Somehow, Hide and Kaneki managed to get me out of my apartment and took me out to get lunch with them. The three of us had become quite close.

Although I enjoyed my friendship with both of them, it had seemed that I had fallen in love with the dark haired boy and might I say fallen really hard. Like, cupid got drunk and shot me in the back, sending me flying into Kaneki's heart, face first into his adorableness.

His eyes told stories that I found familiarity in. It held the same gleam of a painful past, the same feeling I found in mine. It didn't take long for me to accept the fact that I had drowned myself in his aura, becoming truly, madly deep in love with Kaneki Ken.

Unfortunately Hide had figured this out and of course he tried to get me to confess and after what felt like centuries of persuading, he finally got me to go and confess.

Well, that was before now. Now, he had come to me with pitiful eyes, telling me that Kaneki had fallen for a shy, purple haired woman that he had met in a coffee shop, and that he had asked her out on a bit of a date, and that she had said yes. I couldn't process what was even coming out of his mouth.

Kaneki asking out a stranger? Impossible–

–But.. after awhile I looked up at Hide and saw that he still had the same downcast look on his face. I knew then that he wasn't lying, and that he was serious. I guess that Kaneki does not feel the same way I do. we'll, obviously he didn't. I felt myself go numb as I was being pulled into a hug by Hide but I didn't respond. He kept apologizing over and over again, telling me that Kaneki is an idiot to have chosen a stranger over the the girl who was there for him through the difficult times and shared almost everything with each other but, in my eyes, I was just the girl who was foolishly in love with a boy who would never look at her the way she looked at him.

Hide went on about how Kaneki must have been crazy not to like me back, and that kaneki and I were perfect for one another, and that Kaneki was just making a mistake but everything that came out of his mouth just felt like lies that only reminded me more and more of the reality, stomping harder on my already shattered heart.

Hide decided to take me to get some food to cheer me up. It wouldn't work but I accepted his kind request since I can at least try to get my mind off of it.

"Don't worry about it, Y/n! We're gonna have the bestest day you've ever experienced!" Hide exclaimed determined.

"Give it your best shot." I shrugged my shoulders.

"Just wait and see Y/n, it'll be fun. Now let's go!" Hide shouted.

Once we had arrived, Hide's face looked distraught and he immediately said we should go somewhere else. I found that very weird and out of the ordinary for him. That's when I noticed him staring at something and I followed his gaze only to be met with the shattering view.

"Oh." I muttered.

"That's why" he let out a sigh. "I'm sorry." He apologized.

There was Kaneki, across the street with a tall long purple haired girl who I assumed was the girl who he asked out.

"What do you mean? That doesn't matter to me. Let's just go inside anyway." I lied straight through my teeth, doing my best to seem unbothered by it.

"Are you sure? You don't seem like you're okay." Hide asked with worried eyes, concern evident on his face.

"No no, I'm fine" but my tone contradicted my words.

"Look y/n, you're hurt and upset but you don't have to force yourself to do this-" Hide gripped my shoulder only to be interrupted by my voice.

"I said it's okay, Hide. C'mon, I can handle this." I smiled.

I don't know why I'm doing this but it can't get any worse, can it?

Shit.. yes, yes it can and it's happening right now.

Kaneki sees us and makes his way over. His expression was shocked to say the least.

"Y/n? What're you doing here?" Kaneki asked.

"Oh um, Hide and I just decided to get some food." I stumbled the words out.

"..with Hide?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Yea." I pressed my lips together and rocked on my heels.

"Huh, interesting." He hummed. "Are you two out on a date?" His expression changed to bitter.

"Wait what? No way." I laughed, actually finding it funny he would think that. Even Hide snickered.

"oh.." He muttered.

"So, who's that?" I chocked out, referring to the violet haired girl.

"This is Rize." He introduced.

"Well it was nice to meet you! Excuse me I have to go now." I ran to the bathroom. Fuuuuuck that was so embarrassing. I wanna cry and scream at the same time.

I could overhear Hide and Kaneki still talking. I focused to hear a bit clearer and I immediately clasped my hands over my mouth as I heard Hide passive aggressively say, "Have fun on your date while y/n and I hang out and have fun all day. Bye Ken!"

Hide huffed before sitting down next to me. "Someone looks pissed." I mumbled.

"Who wouldn't I be pissed? God, he's so fucking dense. This is like when your two favorite characters who you ship don't end up together and one of them ends up with some other bitch." He ran his hand through his hair sighing.

"What did you say to him?" I asked.

"You'd scold me if I told you so I'm not telling you. Ugh, I can't believe I'm best friends with such a-" I stopped him mid sentence.

"Let it go, Hide." I put a hand on his shoulder.

"I won't talk about it anymore but I'm not letting it go." He huffed.

"Whatever but, did you notice something weird about her?" I asked.

"Uh, not really. What do you mean by weird?" He asked.

"Bro, I swear there's something fucking weird about that girl!" I exclaimed.

"She doesn't seem weird.. I just think he's ways out of her league." He explained.

"No no, there's just something.. I don't know. She gives off weird vibes." I stirred the straw in my drink.

"Hm, are you sure you aren't acting like this because.." Hide trailed off, smirking.

"I just care about him, it's not about how I feel and- stuff for him, y'know? It's not about that. I'm just worried about him." I expressed my concerns trying to not include my feelings into the equation.

"Call it whatever you want but you're jealous." He snickered.

"I've got an idea!" I exclaimed.

"Oh no-" He widened his eyes.

"I'll go with them!" I said.

"I don't think they'd let you." He furrowed his brows.

"I'll just sit at another table so they won't see me."

"Don't-"

"I PROMISE I won't ever do it again. Just this one time and if everything goes ok I'll never do it again." I put my hands together before Hide sighed in response.

I sat at a table far away from them but enough for me to see. They were talking but I couldn't make out what they were saying.

Kaneki was mostly likely rambling on about his favorite books. He's so cute when he makes those little gestures. Honestly, he could talk about where hot dogs come from and I'd still drool over how adorable he is.

Seggsy lesbian bitch- I mean Rize on the other hand was just doing the debby ryan and not even eating anything. That's kinda suspicious. Is she a vampire or something? Holy shit what if she's a ghoul?!

I almost didn't notice them leaving but I somehow catched up to where they were going. It was already a but dark out. They came to a stop and Kaneki was blushing furiously.

Wait..

Oh no

They leaned in..

Are they going to kiss? I don't think I can bear to watch that.

What happened next almost gave me a heart attack. She opened her mouth and was about to bite his shoulder. My fight or flight response immediately activated and before I knew it, I grabbed Kaneki's hand and ran.. His eyes widened in pure shock.

From the corner of my eye, I could see in the reflection of weird tentacles coming out of her as she wailed and chased after us. I didn't notice at first but soon enough I felt the blood trickle down my leg.

She managed to cut my leg. I wasn't that good at running and the gash made it even worse. I felt my legs giving out and I collapsed onto the concrete sidewalk. Everything felt kind of foggy and I barely remember what's even happening right now but I could feel that Kaneki somehow managed to carry me on his back and he ran to the nearest public area.

"Y/n! You're bleeding! We need to get you to the hospital right now!" Kaneki said as he frantically looked for his phone.

"Are you okay? Did she bite you?" I asked.

"No, I'm fine! You're the one hurt right now! Why are you worrying about me?" I could see the fear and concern in his eyes. For some reason I felt guilty for it but I felt warm inside knowing he cared.

"I'll be fine, it's just a cut. She was going to eat you! What was going to happen if she did?" I squeezed his hand.

"I'm okay now, aren't I? Thanks to you." He smiled, wiping away splattered blood from my cheek.

"You're welcome, Kaneki-san"

"I called Hide to come so he can help take you to the hospital to get your wound treated." He assured me.

"Its not a big deal." I tried to pretend I wasn't in extreme pain.

"It is" He sternly voiced.

"It's not" I spoke with the same tone.

"Don't argue back. I owe it to you after you saved my life."

"Fine but only because you said so."

After we arrived at the hospital, the doctor said it was just a small gnash, nothing severe. They patched me up and Kaneki insisted on coming along with me.

"You didn't have to come with me, Ken. I can manage on my own." I said as we entered my apartment.

"Oh and also, what're you doing?" I asked as he tugged on my jacket trying to get it off which he somehow managed to do.

"Y/n, you're my friend and you saved my life, I already told you I owe you." He sighed hanging up our coats.

"A friend, huh?" I smiled sadly. Back to pain it was again. Heartbreak isn't a hobby for me, it's a lifestyle. :')

"Y-yeah, well you're my friend aren't you?" He peered at me with doe eyes.

"Kaneki I really need to tell you something." I blurted.

"What is it?" He gulped.

"I.." I started but choked up.

"Uh?" He stepped closer. Dammit why is this so difficult.

"I love you." I whispered averting my eyes away. I couldn't dare to look at his face. After a moment of silence I looked up to see.. nobody? Where'd he go?

"Kaneki?? Where are you?" I shouted. Did he leave? Wow, couldn't he at least say it that he doesn't like me. I suddenly tripped over something and fell onto the floor, thankfully on top of a rug.

I groaned feeling a sharp pain in my abdomen from landing on something underneath. I slowly get up and look to see Kaneki. Kaneki. On the floor. wut.

"Eh? What the-???" I yelled in confusion. "Why are you on the God damn floor??" I frantically shouted.

"And are you crying? And texting Hide?" I ask seeing his lit up phone screen.

"N-no" He sniffled, turning his head so I couldn't see.

"Why are you crying, though?" I raised an eyebrow, wiping his tears with my thumb.

"It's just that I never thought you'd ever like me. Do you know h-how long I've had feelings for you?" He teared up even more.

"Why are you getting emotional?" I held his hand tighter.

"Oh my bananas y/n, I'm crying tears of joy! I'm so happy you like me back! I just thought you'd never like me back, that's why I went out with Rize to try and forget these feelings." He looked away from me with pink tinted cheeks feeling shameful.

"Kaneki! Why didn't you say anything?" I scolded light heartedly.

"You know I'm shy. How come you didn't?" He scrunched his nose. Adorable.

"Well I was! In fact I was planning on confessing on the day you asked that girl out" I glanced down while frowning, having a sour taste in my mouth.

"Y/n.. do you want to go out on a date with me?" He looked up at me.

"Of course I do and I wanted to be the one to ask!" I crossed my arms.

"Beat you to it." He smiled.

"Can I at least pick the date?" I asked.

"Errr sure but I want to go on a book date 'cause Hide said they're lame and I wanna prove him wrong." He narrowed his eyes.

"Sure." I sigh.

"Thank you, Y/n!" He launched himself at me, hugging me tightly.

"What for?" I laughed hugging him back.

"For saving me and for agreeing to going on a date with me" He whispered.

"I didn't have a choice when it came to liking you though, how could I not?" I replied back.

"May we.. stay like this." He requested while staring up at me with sparking glossy doe eyes. I gazed at his soft pink face and planted a cheste kiss on his cheek causing his breath to hitch.

The moment was innocent, delicate and serene... until Kaneki's phone dinged with a notification of a text from Hide. Y/n made a mental note to ask what he texted Hide behind her couch while Kaneki made a mental note to ask how the hell did she show up at the right moment when Rize tried to eat him.

—But only Hide knows the answer to those questions 💅

#kaneki ken #kaneki x reader #tokyo ghoul #tokyo ghoul x reader #kaneki ken x reader

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engie-ivy · 3 years ago

Text

Minerva isn't sure she can protect Remus Lupin any longer now a student has been injured the night of the full moon. Especially when Walburga Black is demanding repercussions for her son, after what was clearly a Werewolf attack. Sirius Black, however, tells a very different story.

Lupine Lawlessness

“This is outrageous!” Walburga Black immediately rounds on Minerva the moment the woman strides into the Hospital Wing, her voluminous robes billowing behind her.

Minerva notices Mrs Black barely spares her injured son in the bed a glance. She also notices how the boy slightly shrinks in on himself as he hears her voice. Then, Mrs Black is standing in front of her, and all her attention is directed at being on the receiving end of Walburga Black’s fury.

“I knew you and that old fool would be the ruin of this school. It’s one thing that the place is infested with Halfbloods and Mudbloods, but harbouring a Dark Creature?”

“Mrs Black,” Minerva says politely. “I understand this must be very distressing for you as a mother, and I’m very sorry indeed, but we are yet to establish what happened.”

“Do you take me for a fool?” Mrs Black spits. “That type of claw marks, on which Healing Magic has no effect, while yesterday was a full moon? It’s very clear what has attacked him, and that thing had no business being on school grounds.”

Minerva herself has put two and two together as well. It was easier for her, as she’s aware there’s a student infected with Lycanthropy attending Hogwarts. A student who also happens to have been a close friend of Sirius Black.

Oh, she had really thought they were going to pull it off. They had come so far. She had been sceptical at first. A Lycanthrope attending seven years of Hogwarts without any incidents, without anyone finding out? It appeared unlikely, but she had agreed to try. And then she met Remus Lupin, and she had been very glad she did so. The boy was sweet, modest, hardworking and clever, and he deserved to have a proper education, but also to be around peers, make friends, and have fun. Now, when she had really started to believe it was going to be alright, the worst had happened. A student had been attacked.

It’s not difficult to reason out what must’ve happened. Sirius Black must’ve seen his friend disappear into the tunnel below the Whomping Willow, and had decided to go after him, only to end up face-to-face with a full-grown werewolf.

Minerva’s first reaction had been relief. Relief that Sirius Black was going to be okay. Some nasty injuries that would leave some nasty scars, but no permanent damage, which is quite a miracle. It could’ve been much, much worse.

But relief had quickly been replaced with worry. While the headmaster and herself can get in serious trouble for allowing a Lycanthrope in the vicinity of children, her worry was mostly for Remus Lupin. The world is unfairly cruel to Lycanthropes. Graduated from Hogwarts, with his formidable grades and excellent recommendations from his teachers, the boy would’ve at least had a chance, but being expelled from Hogwarts... His only option might be The Werewolf Camps in the mountains, where Lycanthropes go if they have nowhere else to go, which, regrettably, is often. Stories about those camps make your stomach churn, and it’s not a place for a boy like Remus Lupin to be.

Sirius Black must surely know it was Remus Lupin who did this, and he has every right to be angry. School is supposed to be a safe place, not a place where an unsuspecting student can suddenly be mauled by a Werewolf. Minerva doesn’t know if, or how, she can protect Remus Lupin from the consequences.

“The House of Black is a highly esteemed family,” Mrs Black goes on. “A Black being attacked by such an inferior creature without any repercussions would be an insult to our family name. It’s already a great show of disrespect that you even allowed this to happen, and we do not tolerate disrespect.”

“I truly regret the situation,” Minerva says, hoping to sooth the other woman. “At Hogwarts, any student should be safe from any kind of danger-”

“But this was not just any student or any kind of danger,” Mrs Black interrupts. “This was the Noble Blood of Black being spilled by a filthy monster that should be removed from society!”

“Really, Mrs Black, we are yet to determine-”

Once again, Minerva is interrupted, this time by the arrival of a man.

“Lady Black, my apologies for my tardiness, but I came as you requested,” he says, ignoring Minerva in favour of focusing all his attention on Mrs Black. The man is short, with sharp eyes and a pointy face, and he looks at Mrs Black with reverence.

Mrs Black scoffs. “Quit wasting time then and get to work.”

The man starts opening his briefcase, taking out a quill and parchment.

“What is the meaning of this?” Minerva demands. “Who are you? What business do you have here?”

“Mr Hesner is from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures,” Mrs Black replies. “And he’s here at my request to make a report of the situation.”

The colour drains from Minerva’s face. Being expelled is bad, but nothing compared to an official Ministry report. If a Lycanthrope is reported to have somehow been involved in an attack on a witch or wizard, the Lycanthrope will get the annotation ‘Feral’ in the Registry. All hopes of ever finding a job or a place to live will be lost. The Lycanthrope will have to report at the Ministry at frequent and irregular times, and any failure to report will lead to the Lycanthrope immediately being locked away. The Lycanthrope will be out on the streets without any money or prospects, and even the smallest transgression will lead to being locked up. Almost every Lycanthrope with the ‘Feral’ annotation will be either locked up, or forced to flee to the mountains within a year. Remus Lupin certainly does not deserve such a fate.

“Is... is that really necessary?” Minerva asks.

“Very necessary indeed,” Mr Hesner replies. “If you had any sense of morality, you would’ve contacted us yourself, Ms McGonagall. Luckily, we could count on Mrs Black to do the right thing,” he says, with a grovelling smile in her direction.

“Can you imagine if that beast would’ve bitten him?” Mrs Black shudders. “What a stain on the family tree that would’ve been, to have a Lycanthrope in the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black!”

To make sure no one will make the mistake of confusing her fear for shame on the Black family name with fear for her son’s well-being, she doesn’t mention that her son might not have survived the bite, or that he would’ve had to live with an extremely painful, chronic condition for the rest of his life. She probably would’ve burnt the boy off the family tree herself, and sent him to go live in the mountains.

“That would’ve been such a waste,” Mr Hesner agrees, before turning to Sirius Black. “Well, young Mr Black, I need an official statement containing your description of the events.”

Sirius Black looks thoughtful for a moment. “I was... attacked. By some kind of creature.”

“Describe the attack please,” Mr Hesner instructs without looking up from his parchment, quill at the ready.

“Oh, the creature was... round.” Mr Hesner’s eyes snap up, but Sirius Black continues. “Like pumpkin-shaped. But huge. Like a huge pumpkin. Only covered in bright yellow feathers. With bulging eyes in between. And two glittering horns on top of its head.”

“You’re treating this like some kind of a joke!” Mr Hesner says accusingly, pointing his quill in Sirius Black’s direction.

“Why, sir,” Sirius Black says, pretending to be shocked. “I protest. I would never!”

“If you can’t be serious...” Mr Hesner says, gritting his teeth.

Sirius Black blinks innocently at him. “Ask anyone, Mr Hesner, and I’m sure they’ll all tell you that I’m always Sirius.”

“I’ve dealt with Magical Creatures for longer than you have lived, boy,” Mr Hesner spits. “And I know such a creature as you described does not exist.”

Sirius Black shrugs. “Who knows what creatures the Forbidden Forest hides?”

“Did the attack meddle with his brain?” Mrs Black demands.

Minerva shakes her head. “Madam Pomfrey has assured me that his mental state is unaltered.”

“So I have to believe he was attacked by a horned ball of yellow feathers?” Mrs Black snarls.

“Who knows what creatures the Forbidden Forrest hides?” Minerva repeats Sirius Black’s exact words. Sirius Black gives her a pleased smile, which she gladly returns.

Mrs Black, on the other hand, gives her a nasty glare, and then switches her attention to Mr Hesner, who shrinks in on himself. “His chest is covered in Werewolf marks the day after a full moon. It’s obvious what happened even without his statement.”

Mr Hesner gulps. “I... I’m sorry, lady Black. I’m not allowed to report an attack without an official statement from the victim. I mean, only if the victim had died I could’ve...” He trails off.

Mrs Black now directs her glare at her son, like she regrets the last isn’t the case. “I’ll make you pay for this.”

Sirius Black becomes even more pale, but he continues to defiantly meet his mother’s gaze.

“I do not tolerate anyone threatening my students,” Minerva speaks.

Mrs Black turns her head to her. “He’s my son. I can do whatever I want when it concerns him.”

Minerva takes a step forward. Her eyes are like stone and her voice is like ice. “Not in my school.”

To her great satisfaction, Mrs Black takes a step back and swallow. She quickly recovers though, and pulls her cloak tighter around herself. She gives Sirius Black a quick glance and hisses “I’ll see you this summer,” before walking out of the room in quick strides, Mr Hesner having to dribble to keep up, her robes billowing behind her in that way only purebloods ever seem to manage.

“Are you quite done?”

Minerva turns around to see Poppy standing behind her, her arms crossed over her chest. “Really, you don’t have to be a professional to know that a recovering patient needs rest, not all this uproar and noise. That goes for you too, Minerva. You might run this school after Albus, but I run the Hospital Wing. Now leave. My patient needs to sleep.”

A few days later, Minerva makes her way over to the Hospital Wing. Sirius Black has had some days to recover, and luckily, his recovery is going well. She hopes he has also been able to process everything that happened.

A difficult conversation still needs to be had.

She’s immensely glad Sirius Black hadn’t wanted to report Remus Lupin at the Ministry, but still, he could’ve been killed, and she can’t imagine he’ll be okay with there being no repercussions at all. She thinks she might be able to talk him out of demanding Remus Lupin to be expelled, and in the best case scenario, she can convince him to keep it quiet.

It’s not that she thinks Sirius Black is in any way cruel or anything like his family, not at all. She has a very high opinion of the boy. It’s just that Lycanthropy prejudice is very strong throughout the Wizarding World. Even the best person has some negative thoughts regarding Werewolves. The sentiment is especially strong among the pureblood community, and Sirius was raised with their norms and values. Regardless, she can’t imagine anyone would be okay with finding out a person they thought they knew is a Lycanthrope. Remus Lupin will definitely have to move out of the boys’ dormitory, maybe even to a private room. No one would be willing to keep sharing a dorm with someone that tried to kill them. Maybe she can-

Minerva stops in her tracks as she reaches the Hospital Wing, all thoughts of appeasing Sirius Black disappearing from her head.

Sirius Black isn’t alone. Remus Lupin is with him. Like actually with him on the bed. Remus Lupin is curled up at Sirius Black’s side, his hands gripping Sirius Black’s robes and his head resting on Sirius Black’s chest. Sirius Black has one arm firmly wrapped around Remus Lupin, and with his other hand he’s gently threading his fingers through Remus Lupin’s hair. The boys haven’t noticed her presence.

“I am so, so, so sorry,” Remus says, and probably not for the first time.

Sirius rolls his eyes. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I did it.”

“You can’t control it.”

“I could’ve stayed away from you,” Remus argues. “I can control that. A filthy monster that should be removed from society.”

Sirius huffs. “That’s just a bunch of pureblood bollocks only stuck-up twats with half a brain still living in the Middle Ages actually believe.”

“Your mother thinks so.”

“I rest my case.”

Remus chuckles and presses his face closer to Sirius’ chest. “I can barely believe you’re real. I don’t deserve you.”

“Moony,” Sirius says with a sigh. “I told you, The Wolf wasn’t even trying to hurt The Dog. You weren’t feral! The Wolf wanted to play, and didn’t know his own strength, and kind of forgot dogs aren’t as strong as Werewolves. Even transformed, you never meant to hurt me.”

The Dog? An absurd thought enters Minerva’s mind, a thought that surely sheds a different light on what may have happened. Absurd for sure, but also... plausible? And if anyone can do it...

No. Minerva firmly pushes the thought away. It might be true, or it might not be. Either way, she doesn’t need to know. After all, what you don’t know, you can’t report to The Ministry.

“And even if The Wolf fancied himself some Padfoot for breakfast,” Sirius continues. “I still wouldn’t have blamed you. It’s not you.”

“You’re going to have a scars for the rest of your life,” Remus murmurs against Sirius’ chest.

Sirius gently tilts his head up. “Then it’s a good thing I think scars are sexy,” he says with a wink, making Minerva wonder whether it might be more than just close friendship she’s looking at.

A faint blush spreads across Remus’ cheeks, and he slightly shakes his head. “You can’t accept my apologies that easily.”

“Oh no, Moony. Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Sirius says, tapping his finger fondly against Remus’ nose, which again makes Minerva question their level of intimacy. “I have, in fact, not accepted your apologies, as I refuse to accept an apology for something someone could’ve done nothing about.”

Remus scrunches up his nose. “You’re stubborn as a mule.”

Sirius chuckles. “I could teach mules in stubbornness. But if you insist on making it up to me, I suppose you can help me win the bet.”

“The bet?”

“I’ve made a bet with Prongs that I can make at least half of the Gryffindors believe I was attacked by a pumpkin-shaped yellow feather ball, while Prongs says I won’t even make ten.”

Remus shakes his head. “You’re an idiot,” he says, though it sounds fond.

Sirius grins. “But you love me.”

Remus leans forward and presses a kiss against Sirius’ lips, making Minerva blink, but confirming her doubt. There must be something more between those boys for sure.

Remus pulls back, but gently rests his forehead against Sirius’. “Merlin, I do love you, Sirius Black.”

“I love you too, Remus Lupin.”

Minerva smiles to herself. There’s no need to worry after all. If one thing is stronger than prejudice, it’s love.

#my tumblr writing #wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar fic #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #marauders era #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #minerva mcgonagall #hurt sirius black #lycanthropy #werewolf

234 notes · View notes

mrs-gucci · 3 years ago

Text

Casting Couch {Charlie Barber x Reader}

author’s notes: hello, hello! I was driving home from work the other day and this idea just suddenly took over my entire thought process. so, naturally, I went ahead and wrote it up :)

warnings (what you see here is what you’ll get!): smut. the enemy of my enemy is my ally (with benefits). p in v sex. protected sex. rough oral sex. cum- swallowing.

(possible) tw’s: semi-public sex.

word count: 3.2k

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Two Years Ago.

“Y/N...she fucking did it again.” Nicole says as she barges through the door of hers and Charlie’s shared brownstone. “She got the fucking TV gig.”

Charlie’s eyebrows furrow a bit before looking up at his wife with an empathetic expression, setting the notebook and pen he’d been using down on the coffee table.

“Bummer. I really thought you had it in the bag.” He says, elbows on his thighs as he leans forward a bit, folding his hands. “There will be other roles; I wouldn’t worry too much. You win some, you lose some; that’s how it goes in this industry. You’ve taken plenty of roles from her.”

She sighs, nodding. “Yeah, I know, but this one I was excited about. And I really thought I had it, too. It just stung a little extra, you know?”

Her husband nods, patting the seat next to him on the couch. “C’mere, sit with me. We’ll have a glass of wine.”

Nicole gives somewhat of a dreadful grimace, a clear sign she really wasn’t interested. Charlie’s been noticing this for the past few months, her disinterest in being with him as much as she usually was, but he figured it was just her being tired. She’s been doing a lot of odd jobs to make some ends meet lately, so it’s probably a result of that.

“Are you sure?” He asks, a twang of longing sadness in his voice.

She nods. “Yeah, I’m just gonna go lay down for a bit.”

Charlie just nods, picking back up his notebook and pen, continuing to review and add to his notes from the day.

“Let me know if you need anything.” He calls after her. “I love you.”

She only offers him a small smile over her shoulder in return before emerging into their bedroom, closing the door immediately behind her.

Present Day.

It feels strange, holding auditions for a female lead. He hasn’t had to do so in almost a decade; just yet another reminder of how much of his life has changed just in the past year.

The divorce had been painful, stressful, and he was honestly more relieved than anything when it finally came to a close, despite it not really turning out the way he’d hoped for in terms of custody over Henry.

Luckily, he’s dove deeper into his one true love, directing, as a way to cope with the loss of everything he’d worked so hard to build for himself; the marriage, the 'American dream’ family and home he wished he’d had growing up.

Now, after six months of weekly therapy appointments and keeping himself busy with work, he’s feeling more like the old Charlie he was back before everything went to shit. Actually, he’s feeling like an even better version of that Charlie, the best version of himself there’s been in a while, perhaps even before he met and married Nicole.

The first audition comes onstage and Charlie can’t decide what’s worse, her off-pitch singing or her monotonous speaking voice.

God, this was going to be a long fucking day.

You’d heard through the grapevine that the famed Broadway director had moved here to LA, and that he’d divorced his witch of a wife, Nicole.

Nicole Barber had been your biggest rival ever since you swiped that first movie role away from her. She hates you, and you don’t particularly like her, either, thus your rivalry began. And it was pretty heated, too; the two of you were always trying to one-up each other.

It really was a back-and-forth battle, her swiping roles from you, you returning the favor; it was a game, to put it simply. Although lately, you’ve been getting more roles than she has, not that you’re complaining, and there’s a part of you that hopes she quits the business for good.

Word got around that Charlie is heading his first LA Broadway production and what better way to hit Nicole close to home than to show up at her ex-husband’s auditions? Even better, what if you got the female lead in her ex-husband’s production? Oh god, that would be fantastic, not only for the rivalry but also for your career.

You’ve been looking to branch out into more theater roles, and this is as good an opportunity as to dip your toe in the theater world water. Plus, you’re not necessarily complaining about having the chance to look at and work with Charlie Barber every day...

So you prepared your piece of dialogue and a section of one of the choice songs, heading over to the theater fifteen minutes before your set audition time. Your knee bounces as you sit in the waiting area, eyes running over your script and lyrics sheet one final time, solidifying it all in your memory.

Your name is called a few minutes later and you head out onto the stage, handing over your headshot and qualifications resume. The agent hands over your profile to the handsome director, but he doesn’t even really look at it, already knowing exactly who you are. A small smirk grazes his lips as he flips to a new page of his notebook, clicking the top of his pen.

“Whenever you’re ready, Miss Y/N.”

After you’re finished, Charlie scribbles one final thing in his notebook before looking up at you. His eyes trail over your figure for a moment, another smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Would you be comfortable coming back for a more intimate audition later this week? Maybe, Friday at four? I would like to get to know you better, see if you meet all of my... qualifications.”

The look in his eye tells you all you need to know about the true motivations behind his question. You nod, biting your lip.

“It’d be my absolute pleasure, Mr. Barber.” You purr.

He shifts in his seat suddenly and quickly crosses one leg over the other before opening up your folder, handing the top sheet to his assistant.

“Diane, go ahead and have Miss Y/N put down all of her contact information.” His gaze never leave you as he speaks to the timid-seeming young woman. “Make sure she gives her personal cell number.”

You pull a pen from your bag on the stage, clicking it open before Diane hands you the paper. As you write every means of contact you can think of, starting with your cell number, you playfully bite the end of the pen and tap it against your bottom lip, something that certainly keeps the already attentive director’s full attention.

“Thank you so much for this opportunity, Mr. Barber.” Your tone is innocent-sounding, but your gaze is anything but. It sends a chill down Charlie’s spine. “I promise I won’t disappoint.”

“Oh, I’m sure you won’t.” A small tug at one corner of his lip accompanies his response. “See you soon, Miss Y/N.”

You offer him a nod.

“Looking forward to it.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In preparation for your upcoming...meeting with Charlie, you take a quick trip to the nearest intimates store, picking up a pretty little lace bra and panty set. Your lingerie wardrobe is long overdue for a bit of sprucing up, anyway.

When the time comes, you slip the fresh lace garments on before putting on your planned outfit, a cute-but-subtly-sexy low cut romper. You put on a light face of makeup, purely for professionalism’s sake, then head out with a small bag which contains various personal items as well as your script and composition page.

He’s not in his backstage office when you arrive, but he comes in a couple minutes later, a strong stench of cigarette smoke trailing behind him as he walks by your chair.

“I apologize for the delay. You weren’t waiting long, were you?”

You shake your head as he takes a seat behind the ratty oak desk, shifting a few small stacks of papers around on the heavily scratched surface.

“No, no I wasn’t waiting long.”

He nods, then folds his hands atop the desk, eyes flickering up to meet yours. For a moment, his eyes dart down to where your cleavage creeps out of your low-cut top.

“You’ve got the part.” Charlie says with a small smile. “You’re by far the best and most qualified audition we had yesterday, and I like the way you carry yourself. You’re exactly the type of person I like working with. Part’s yours if you want it.”

You’re overcome with joy, a wide smile spreading itself across your lips. “I’d love to be a part of this production, Mr. Barber. I’m really excited to get to work with you and the rest of the crew.”

“That’s great, I’m glad to hear it.” He nods, smile widening when as he processes your acceptance. His delighted expression falls after a few moments, replaced by one much more salacious.

“Now that we’ve gotten that part out of the way...I think you know why I called a meeting of such, uh, privacy.”

You smirk softly, shifting around in your seat slightly. “I believe I do.”

His feet plant on the ground as he pushes the rolling office chair out from under the desk, standing up and walking around the desk to tower over you.

“Before anything happens, though, I want you to know that whether or not you do this with me will not affect my casting decision. Even if you decline, you still have the part.”

You nod before standing, quickly and swiftly, stepping forward to press yourself flush against him.

“Charlie?”

“Yeah?”

Your hands rest on his chest, neck craning slightly to look up at him. “Just kiss me, will you?”

He laughs, massive hand moving to cradle the back of your head before he bends down and connects your lips in a passionate kiss. There’s nothing tender or gentle about this embrace, it’s all tongue and teeth, raw lust coursing between your two bodies.

“Couch.” His voice is soft but husky.

“Unzip me first?” You ask, turning around so he can unzip you. He does, then his hands slide down to your hips and pushes you towards the leather couch tucked in the corner of his office.

The material squeaks when you’re laid down on top of it, head resting comfortably on the cushy fabric accent pillow as he climbs on top of you. He presses his hips forward while he tucks his face into the crook of your neck and plants kisses on the skin there.

Your eyes widen as his impressive bulge rubs up against your inner thigh and you quickly wonder how in the world you’ll be able to take him. His crooked teeth scrape over the taut muscles in your neck while his hands pull the backs of your romper down over your shoulders.

His hands grab and grope your breasts beneath where they rest in your nice bra, one you wore just for him, and your back arches slightly up off the cushions with a soft sigh.

A small smile crosses his expression, teeth sinking gently into your neck. “I like the little noises you make for me, Y/N.”

“Yeah?” You smirk, running your hands through his hair. “Then I bet you’ll like my moans, too. If you think you can draw them out of me, that is.”

He laughs softly, sucking and licking at at the place his teeth have just abused. “Is that a challenge?”

“Well, it’s more like an invitation to prove yourself, but ‘challenge’ is also a good word for it.”

Charlie pulls away with a smirk, shaking his head as he sits back on his haunches and begins to unbuckle his belt.

“Brat.”

Once he’s undone his pants and pulled them down enough to expose himself to you, he leans down once more and pulls your romper the rest of the way off, leaving you completely bare, minus your undergarments. His eyes roam your figure for a moment before he dips a hand beneath the patch of black fabric nestled between your thighs.

Your breath hitches as his fingertips swipe over your erect clit, giving it a few little circles before yanking the panties off your hips and down your ankles, tossing them down alongside your previously-discarded romper.

His eyes widen in realization, cheeks flushing pink.

“Do you have any, um, protection?”

You smirk, nodding as you sit up and pat his chest. “Indeed, I do.”

He crawls off of you and you walk over to your purse, grabbing a condom from the mini-stash you keep in your wallet, the one you replenished just minutes before you left the house this afternoon. He takes it from you and pinches the tip, rolling it down his shaft. For a moment, you’re worried that it isn’t going to fit, but he rolls it on with little issue.

His hips press forward, then, entering you slowly but steadily with a soft grunt. You whine as your insides stretch out around him, hands reaching up to tangle in his hair. “S-Shit.”

“You’re really fucking tight, jesus.” He growls between gritted teeth, jaw screwed shut as his hips begin to move. “I haven’t fffucked anyone in a while, Y/N, so I can’t guarantee that I’ll last very long.”

You nod, softly. “It’s alright, Charlie; it’s been a little while for muh--me, too.”

Your eyes flutter shut and your face begins to scrunch up with each time his fat cockhead brushes up against your cervix. His pace increases after a minute or so, a consistent slap-slap-slap noise now echoing off the drywall with each snap of his hips.

“You’ve got a nice little pussy, you know that? Always knew you would be, too, knew you’d be a good little cccocksleeve.”

You moan shakily as he adjusts his position, towering over you and pinning your wrists above your head with one of his large hands. Your body begins to bounce, tits, thighs and tummy jiggling each time he thrusts in.

He’s starting to sweat, a few dark hairs sticking to his dimly-glowing forehead, more and more accumulating there as his hair rocks back and forth in time with the rhythm of his hips.

“Touch yourself, now, rrrub your little clit.” His voice is getting shaky as he draws nearer to climax.

Nodding, your hand slides down between your joined bodies until your fingertips settle onto the small bundle of nerves. The hand that’s still weaved in Charlie’s locks clenches and he lets out a sudden deep growl, hips stuttering for a moment.

“Ooooh, Charlie.” You moan, hips lifting and gyrating against both his cock and your fingers.

“God, fffuck I love this cunt.” A vulgar squelching sound knits itself within the quilt of your salacious symphony. “Wrapped around my cock like a vice, gonna pull the fucking cum right out of it. Swear you get tighter each time I push back in...christ, I’m not gonna last.”

Your fingers circle your clit faster, setting a desperate pace, one that almost matches his quick and sloppy thrusts. You’re close now, too, and it doesn’t take much longer for your orgasm to hit.

You cream around him with a long moan and a string of various other noises, with a few profanities thrown in as well. The product of your release coats his shaft in a pearlescent sheen, dripping down his ball-sack soon enough.

The sensations your climax creates around Charlie forces him to pull away almost immediately after, quickly yanking the condom off and onto his office floor, squeezing the base of his flaming red length.

His hand seizes your jaw tightly, thumb pressing down on your tongue, prying your mouth open. “I’m gonna fuck your mouth and shove my cum down your throat, and you’re gonna take it all, isn’t that right?”

You’re nodding instantly, slacking your jaw to open even further in preparation for his upcoming intrusion. He smirks.

“Good. Now, on your knees.”

He sits down where you once laid, lazily pumping his throbbing length as you get into position between his spread legs. He pulls your hair up into a makeshift ponytail with his hand, then lines you up with his cock and eases your mouth down onto him.

“Thaaaaaat’s it, oh, gooooood girl.”

You start gagging about three quarters of the way down his shaft, but he still keeps pushing until you’ve got the whole thing in your mouth. Your jaw’s already getting sore as he begins thrusting upwards, fucking your mouth.

Tears swell in your eyes and begin to spill down your cheeks the more he goes, mascara surely ruined and running down your face. The sight only arouses him further, a low groan rumbling through his puffed chest.

He’s trying so hard to keep himself together, to stave off his orgasm for as long as he can manage, but soon he finds it next to impossible to hold back. His bottom lip quivers ever so slightly as his length begins to twitch, balls drawing up.

“Fuck, I’m gonna--”

You taste and feel the salty ropes shooting down your throat before he can even finish his warning.

“Ah, fffuuuuck.” His head falls back against the couch cushions, hips bucking gently as each bit of release is spilled into your mouth. His grip on your head relaxes after he’s finished, cock softening while he catches his breath and re-grounds himself in reality.

Your chest heaves as full airflow returns to your lungs, knees and jaw aching a bit sore from their exertion. You grab your underwear from where they lay discarded on top of your romper, putting them back on before standing up on somewhat shaky legs.

Charlie also redresses, standing and straightening himself out as you do the same.

“Mind zipping me back up?” You ask, turning around again.

He pulls the zipper up your back until it’s at the end of its tracks, then steps up behind you, placing a soft kiss to your shoulder blade.

“Thank you.”

A soft smile grazes your lips. “No ‘thanks’ needed; the sweet taste of revenge and spite is payment enough.”

He laughs quietly.

“Well, I’ll certainly be available, should you ever need a little replenishing of those feelings.”

“Mr. Barber, you wouldn’t be saying that because you’d like to see me naked again, now would you?” Your eyebrows raise and you look over your shoulder, a playful smile on your face.

He laughs again, blushing a bit. “Uh, yeah, sure, I'd like that a lot. But I’d also like to see you, um...not naked, fully clothed, maybe at a restaurant in the city for dinner sometime? I totally get it if you’re not interested, it’s not a big deal if you don’t want to...”

Holy shit, he’s asking you out on a date. Well, he’s trying to, at least.

You laugh, cheeks warming at his proposition.

“Sure thing. I just accepted this new job, though, so I’ll have to get back to you about my availability...”

Charlie smiles, shoving his hands down in his khaki pockets. “I’m sure your new boss would be more than willing to accommodate. He’s a pretty cool guy, or so I’ve heard. Handsome, too.”

“Oh yeah? Sounds like you have a reliable informant.” You turn around as you laugh softly, grabbing your bag off the chair before stepping up in front of him. Your lips plant a quick peck on his, hands resting on his broad chest. “See you soon.”

He nods, biting his lip to hold back his big, goofy smile.

“Can’t wait.”

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tomtenadia · 3 years ago

Text

Blind mistake

Rowaelin month - day 8

So, this fic was fighting me at the beginning. as I started, deleted and restarted a million times.

Then slowly the idea came and here it is. What I was not expecting was to write a A Little Braver AU.

Aelin and Rowan meet under different circumstances and are two different people from thee actual story. Aelin is still the captain at east station and Rowan still the airforce captain.

Yes, this is a happier fic but as Aelin said in KoA... she loved Rowan because it was him, the man who had known pain as deep as hers.

IN order to enjoy this fic you do not need to have read ALB. A part from Pete popping up for a brief second at the end, this is a complete stand alone story and no knowledge of ALB is needed.

Rowan sighed. His love life sucked so much that he ended up using a dating app. Since Lyria dumped him a year before he had been struggling to go back in the game. He had been on a few dates but so far none of the women he met had sparked his curiosity. Far too bland and with almost no personality or far too bothered by looks. Some of them had been downright stupid and he had been a gentleman and played along when all he wanted to do was run away screaming. The last nightmare had been a woman called Remelle who Lorcan had recommended to him. He had to feign food poisoning and pay the chef to let him escape from the back of the restaurant to flee the monster. He had paid the bill sneakily, and once home he had insulted Lorcan and his poor taste in women.

Now he was again in a restaurant, ready for probably another fiasco. He and the woman had chatted a bit and she had seemed interesting so he had dared to ask her out and she had accepted. On the paper it was all good. In reality he was getting ready for another crazy escape. Maybe he should just give up and live alone and become a grumpy old man.

He had a kingsflame on the table near him, their code to recognise each other at the restaurant. The fact that they knew very little about each other made him nervous. It was a recipe for disaster. He knew she was a personal shopper and that she liked movies and music. He was really dreading the encounter now, and started to realise that perhaps it had been a mistake. She could have lied.

Until he raised his head and he noticed the woman who had just entered the restaurant. He then spotted the flower pinned on her green dress as they had agreed. Gods, the woman was way too hot for him. There was a catch somewhere. His heart raced when realisation dawned on her face and she waved and started to walk to him. The smile. Damn, the smile could stop a man’s heart. The woman walking toward him was a goddess. He was expecting her to turn away for another table until she sat down in front of him at his table. Rowan was speechless.

“Sorry, I am late. Accident on the ring road. I stopped to give a hand to west station.” She used her hand to brush off the smudge of grease he had only just noticed she had.

“You stopped?”

“Yes,” she looked at him with a strange light in her eyes “I am a firefighter. I am the captain at east station.”

Rowan blinked twice. Shit. She was the wrong woman. She was not here for him. Of course. It was too good to be true. She had sat at the wrong table and a part of him was sad.

“I am Aelin.” she said and he knew that it had dawned on her as well that he was not her date “You are not Chaol.”

Rowan shook his head “I am Rowan.”

“Holy shit. I saw the kingsflame. The restaurant. And you smiled at me when I came in. I just assumed...” He did not want her to go.

“Ach, I was having second thoughts anyway.” He shrugged.

In that moment the waiter came and they were hesitant for a moment then Aelin grabbed the menu and started ordering, surprising him. Rowan got some wine for both and they placed as well their order.

“Our dates are late anyway. Maybe stuck in the horrendous traffic out there.”

“You will not hear me complain.” Said Rowan with a smile “so, you stopped and helped?”

Aelin nodded, sipping a bit of her wine “I couldn’t resist it. West station was there but there were so many cars involved that I had to something. The traffic wasn’t moving anyway.”

Rowan could not believe the woman in front of him. Not only she was a goddess. She had even stopped to help her colleagues save people from a car crash on her way to a date. Where had she been all his life?

The waiter came with their order and smiled at the expression of joy when Aelin looked at the amount of food in front of her. Another point for her. She had an appetite. He had no need of another date ordering a boring salad. He was a healthy eater but loved a woman with an appetite, especially because he loved cooking.

“So Rowan, what do you do?” She asked him while tackling the gigantic prawn on her seafood tagliatelle.

“I am an airforce pilot. I am a captain.”

Her face lit up “as in the uniform and all? And the awesome planes?”

Rowan nodded.

Aelin was about to take another sip of her wine when two figures stopped at their table. A brown-haired man and a blonde woman. Both had a kingsflames pinned on their dresses.

“Excuse me but you are with my date.” Said the stranger.

Rowan looked up from his risotto “finders keepers.”

“And he is my date.” Said the woman in a shrill voice.

“What he said.” Added Aelin while eating another prawn.

“We got stuck in traffic. There is a massive road accident on the ring road.” Chaol complained, not letting it go.

“Yeah I know. I stopped to help and I still made it here before you.”

“So what does this mean?” Asked Chaol.

Aelin stared at Rowan. It was a no brainer. Chaol was cute but Rowan was sex on two legs. Between the silver hair and the green eyes he ticked all of the boxes. And he was a pilot. Chaol was an accountant.

“You two can go on a date together.” She suggested and hoped they took the hint.

“That is rude.”

“Oh shoot,” said Aelin covering her mouth in fake surprise “I must have left the fucks I have to give in my bunker gear.”

Chaol looked at her aghast. The blonde woman turned on her heels and left.

“You missed an opportunity.” He added before he left as well.

As soon as he left Rowan burst into laughter and she joined him “no fucks to give…” he said trying to catch his breath “I have to steal this when my CO drives me nuts.”

“Ansel, one of my firefighters, she taught me that.”

“It’s fucking perfect.”

And both resumed their dinner without the awkwardness of a blind date. No stupid questions like how many siblings do you have or what is your favourite colour. No, with Rowan there had been a connection from the start and the joke had been the final proof.

“Most guys would have left running at my joke. I have a big and foul mouth. Not very lady-like.” She apologised. “I work in a male dominated place. Apart from Ansel and my two paramedics, I am surrounded by guys and well, they are not easily scared.”

Rowan chuckled “I am in the military. My CO uses fuck you as a term of endearment and one of my lieutenants has the record for the most innuendos in a sentence.”

“How many?” Asked Aelin curios.

“Ten.”

“No friggin’ way.”

Rowan nodded solemnly. Then looked at her and he was glad she sat at his table mistaking him for another man. They had known each other only for twenty minutes but he was dumbstruck by the woman.

She was fierce, intelligent and with a wicked sense of humour.

The meal had been perfect. Aelin had polished every single plate in front of her and also ordered dessert. And when she offered to pay for half the bill he had smiled. He had plenty of dates where the woman didn’t even offer. She took it for granted that he, being the man, was the one paying. He had no issues with that, he was happy to pay, but the fact that Aelin offered made him realise that she was different.

They left the restaurant and he gasped when he saw a red pickup reading Terrasen fire department on its livery, parked just outside the restaurant.

“Way to scare the patrons away.” He joked.

“Sorry. Yesterday I took a lift to work from a colleague and I forgot for a moment that I had a set the date for tonight after my shift. So I grabbed my work pickup to get here. I need to go back to the firehouse and return it.”

“I’ll follow, you drop off the pickup and then I drive you home.”

“I can take a cab, you don’t have to come all the way to the station and back.”

“Humour me,” he said giving her a beautiful smile and she accepted.

Ten minutes later they were at east station and she parked the pickup in its corner at the side and out of the way.

She saw Rowan getting off the car.

“Welcome to east station.” She said extending her arms. She pushed a button and the rolling doors slid up and two big trucks appeared in front of him. He had always wanted to see one up close.

“Cap,” said a man at her back “what are you doing here? I thought you were on a date?” He smiled “that bad? I told you accountants were a bad idea.”

Aelin laughed “looks like I got myself an airforce pilot instead.” She winked at him and Rowan’s heart skipped a beat.

“I’ll tell you next shift, Pete. I just brought back the pickup before Dorian kills me.”

She waved at her relief captain and followed Rowan in his car and told him her address.

While he drove she studied him. He was wearing a nice pair of jeans, a shirt and a black leather jacket. She should have guessed he was military. Aedion had the same posture and he was ex-army.

“Which house?” Asked Rowan, waking her up from her thoughts.

“The one with the blue door.”

He parked and walked with her up to the door “I had so much fun tonight,” she said to him, not wanting him to leave her.

“I am so glad that you sat at the wrong table. This was the best blind date ever.” He looked at her and wanted to kiss her so badly but they had just met and he did not want to pass a a pig.

She moved a step toward him “I am glad too.” And her lips brushed his cheek in a kiss “perhaps we could go on a proper date. One where we are actually meant to meet each other.”

Rowan sighed relieved “It would make me very happy.”

Aelin rummaged in her bag until she found a pen then grabbed his wrist and pulled up his cuff a bit and wrote down two numbers.

“The first one is my personal mobile number. The second one is the direct number to my office. I am known to leave my mobile in my bunker gear.”

“Thank you.”

“Let me know a date and if I am not free we can find a better one. Us firefighters have crazy long shifts so I need to be off.”

He took her pen and her wrist and wrote his number “then you text me. A day that you are off shift. I work regular hours. This makes more sense.”

He took a step down from the few step and she hated the idea of him leaving.

“Goodnight, Rowan.” She opened the door and looked at him one last time.

Rowan waited for her to disappear behind the door and then went back to his car and was grateful for the best blind mistake of his life.

#rowaelinmonth #rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #rowan x aelin #fluff

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daringyounggrayson · 3 years ago

Text

misplaced guilt

(Read below or on AO3)

It’s been a while since Bruce has been to one of these galas, and for once, he is neither hosting nor making a speech. It’s a nice change, to say the least.

Dick is sitting next to him, kicking his legs under the table. Bruce would tell him to stop, but at least he’s actually using the chair as intended with both feet closer to the floor than the chair, so Bruce lets it go for the moment. If it gets too out of control, he can always reach out and stop him, but for now, he’ll let the kid release some pent-up energy.

Bruce keeps half of his attention on Dick and the other half on his conversation with Jasmine Owen, a woman who works at one of Gotham’s youth centers. Bruce knew from the second she introduced herself that she came over in hopes of getting a donation, but he doesn’t mind; that’s one of the main purposes of these things, and Bruce is happy to help however he can.

“Babs,” Dick gasps excitedly, shooting upright when he catches Barbara walk into the room, Commissioner Gordon by her side. Bruce looks over at Dick, quirking an eyebrow. Dick smiles back, asks in his I’m-in-public-so-I’m-behaving-like-an-angel voice, “May I please be excused?”

“Hnn,” Bruce says, pretending to think over his answer.

“Bruce,” Dick whines.

Bruce smiles. “Alright. But stay in the ballroom. Dinner is going to be served soon.”

“Okay, thanks!” he slides out of his chair and offers a wave. “Nice meeting you, Ms. Owen.”

“And you, Richard,” she smiles back. When he’s gone, she turns to Bruce again and says, “He’s a sweet kid.”

Bruce can’t help but think at least in public, and at least to people who aren’t me. He’s half-joking, but there’s some truth to the statement: Dick has always seemed to behave better for Alfred, and he’s nothing if not an angel around strangers, even when he’s mad at Bruce.

At home, it’s not that Dick isn’t a good kid—he is—but he’s still a kid. Dick can be sassy, and he has a taste for anything that will make Bruce’s hair turn gray (usually dangerous, usually far away from the ground). He also has no qualms about making fun of Bruce when Dick feels it’s called for. Then there are the arguments, the borderline tantrums. Both have been decreasing in frequency, and Bruce attributes most of them to processing and coming to terms with his parents’ murder, but they are—difficult, to say the least. Dick will have these rough days—sometimes rough weeks—where he’ll lash out at Bruce over the smallest things. Sometimes it seems like he yells at Bruce just to put his hurt somewhere.

Bruce tries to take all of it—from the jokes at his expense that even he has to admit are funny, to the meltdowns—as a good sign, one that says Dick feels secure and knows that Bruce will love him regardless of his behavior or attitude. But there are certainly days when Bruce thinks it would be nice if Dick would listen to him like he listens to Alfred—like when Bruce tells him to get off of the unstable shed roof, for example.

Despite the challenges that come with raising a child, there are also so many blessings. There’s no other word to describe it. Seeing Dick learn and grow and thrive is something Bruce will never get tired of. On top of that, Dick is just this brilliant, funny, and kind child. He has the biggest heart Bruce has ever seen, and he cares so deeply and widely. Bruce doesn’t know how he got so lucky. Dick is Bruce’s light, his whole world.

Bruce pulls himself out of his head, says, “He’s the best thing that has ever happened to me.” It’s something he can say with complete honesty. “Do you have kids?”

“Oh god, no. I think I’m still a little young for that,” she laughs. Then, thinking about what she said, her face falls. “Not that you were too young, just for me, I’d rather—”

“No, no, it’s fine.” He puts his hands up and smiles. “I was really young when I took Dick in. I go to parent-teacher conferences, and most of the other parents are at least ten years older than me. But I like to think I’m doing alright, and Dick’s happy, so that’s all that matters.”

“Yes, I suppose.” She smiles, but looks down at the table.

“So, what’s it like day-to-day at the youth center?”

She looks up, coming alive again, and the conversation picks back up.

oOo

After dinner, Dick and Barbara disappear again, and Bruce is left alone to mingle. Most people come to him, but he only has to escape a few times, so it’s going about as good as these things can go.

That is until a very urgent Barbara runs into him and tugs on his arm. “Sorry everyone, but I need to borrow Brucie for a second.”

Bruce ducks down to look Barbara in the eye. “What is it?”

“Dick. Just come with me.”

He follows her without another word to the group of people he was talking to. She leads him into the hall and toward the lobby. When they turn the corner, Dick is on the ground in a lateral recumbent position. Gordon is talking to him gently, though Dick seems unresponsive.

“Dick.” Bruce lurches forward, falling to his knees and reaching out to find Dick’s pulse and check his breathing. “What happened?”

“Barbara thinks he had a seizure,” Gordon answers. “An ambulance will be here soon.”

Dick’s breath hitches and he lets out a low moan that feels like a twisting dagger in Bruce’s chest. His eyes find Bruce’s, and he unwraps one hand from his stomach to reach for Bruce’s. Bruce takes it, squeezing it gently in a reassuring manner.

“I’m right here,” Bruce promises, running a hand through Dick’s hair.

“It hurts,” Dick gasps.

“Shh, the paramedics are going to be here soon. We’ll fix it.”

Dick shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut. “I don’t feel right.”

Bruce tightens his grip slightly, hoping to keep Dick conscious. “What’s wrong? Where does it hurt?”

“Head, stomach,” Dick mumbles. “Feel hot, an’ dizzy.”

Bruce frowns, trying to determine what could be causing Dick’s symptoms. Is this the beginning of an illness, or a seizure disorder? Has Dick been poisoned? There was a run-in with Scarecrow a few nights ago, and Dick had needed to take an untested antidote for the fear toxin. Could this be a delayed reaction to the concoction Bruce had come up with?

Dick’s grip loosens.

“Dick?” Bruce calls urgently. “Dick!”

He gets no response.

oOo

Dick is staring at a white ceiling when he realizes he’s awake. Sunlight is streaming in through a giant window on his right, and there’s a framed painting of giraffes across from him. He’s tired and confused, and his gut tells him that something is wrong, that something bad happened. His first thought is that he wants his mom.

He turns his head to the left, finding Bruce in a chair and holding his hand.

“Hi,” Dick says, slowly pushing himself into a sitting position. Bruce grunts some kind of greeting and raises Dick’s bed while Dick takes in the medical bracelets on his wrist—one ID bracelet and one that indicates that he’s a fall risk—and the IV in the back of his hand. “What happened?”

Bruce shifts in his chair, face serious. “We were at the gala. You were poisoned.”

Dick matches Bruce’s expression, trying to think. He remembers being with Babs, telling her that something was wrong. Then he’d been on the ground, and there’d been sirens.

“The man who poisoned you had planned to offer me the antidote for a price, but he didn’t realize that you would react to the poison so—so severely,” Bruce explains, rubbing his thumb over Dick’s knuckles. “He was working as one of the waiters and heard the commotion. He came forward shortly after the ambulance left and he’s currently in custody.”

Dick swallows. “Why did he . . .” Why did he poison Dick in the first place? Need money so badly? Feel that poisoning Dick was the only option? “Would it have killed me? If he didn’t give us the antidote.”

Bruce, like always, is honest with Dick. “The doctors were able to stabilize you, but they needed to neutralize the poison quickly, and the antidote did that. It’s hard to say what would have happened without it, but things were touch and go for a while.”

Dick nods, not sure what to say as he takes it in. Eventually, he asks, “How long have I been out?”

“A few days. You woke up a few times yesterday, but you were incoherent,” Bruce says.

Dick wracks his brain, trying to pull up some inaccessible memory.

“I’m sorry that this happened, Dick.”

Dick squeezes Bruce’s hand. “Not your fault.”

“Hnn.”

“What? Are you seriously guilty that you didn’t taste all of my food first or something? ‘Cause that’s nuts, B.”

Bruce says, “You are my child. I am allowed to feel guilty when I fail to protect you.”

“You didn’t fail,” Dick interjects. “I’m okay—really.”

Bruce’s face is still pinched and concerned, and he’s looking at Dick like he might fall apart. Dick leans toward him and stretches his arms out, and Bruce quickly pulls him into a tight hug.

“I’m not going anywhere, Bruce,” Dick promises. And even to himself, it doesn’t sound like a reassurance most nine-year-olds should be giving. But it fits with his new life, he supposes. “I’m okay.”

Bruce tucks Dick’s head under his chin, says, “I was . . . I’m glad that you’re alright.”

Dick nods into Bruce’s chest and lets himself be held for another moment. It’s not the hug from his mom that he woke up wanting, but it’s close. It makes him feel safe and reminds him of home, and maybe that’s all Dick needs.

#dick grayson #bruce wayne #nightwing #batman #batfamily #tw: seizure #elizabeth writes

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may-day-voice · 3 years ago

Text

Mother's Day

w/ Izuku Midoriya, Shouto Todoroki & Katsuki Bakugou

please do not repost, but you have permission to reblog :)

• Watch/ Listen on YouTube: https://youtu.be/Fu2ifujKQI4

• Read on Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/1109387237-oneshots-pro-hero-au-172732014-mother%27s-day

IZUKU MIDORIYA | Potluck Brunch

"Do you think that this is too much?"

"I'm sure it's fine."

Midoriya's smile warmed the chilliest of mornings while the cherry blossoms began to drift in the spring breeze. It was a busy start to the day grocery shopping for a surprise brunch he wanted to make for his mother. That did however include having to wake at four in the morning to peruse through the markets for the freshest ingredients.

You yawned loudly while carrying various shopping bags on hand, eyeing Midoriya carrying the more heavier ingredients with him - mostly the meat.

"Still trying to wake up?" Asked Midoriya.

"Just trying to slip back into my old routine," you explained, nuzzling your nose into your scarf. "I used to clean my equipment every two days at the break of dawn."

"You used to clean your guns?"

"Dismantle and put them back together too. I used to time myself."

You spoke casually and nonchalantly about those memories, recalling that competitive feeling to beat your time again and again. However, you heard nothing from Midoriya, finding that he only stared at you quizzically.

"What? I was... bored," you slowly explained, a little embarrassed about the topic.

"That explains your reaction time," pondered Midoriya, his eyes staring upwards in thought. "Constant practice and muscle memory would only make them second nature to you."

"Are you theorizing now?"

"Hehe, maybe a little."

You grimaced and yet smiled at Midoriya, bumping your hip into his playfully. He was still the observant and analytical man, always putting forward his ingenuity over his Quirk.

Soon, the both of you made your way to his old family home in an apartment complex, taking the elevator up before approaching the very familiar front door to his mother's. After a knock or two, the door opened, revealing a short woman whose eyes upon seeing the both of you, smiled happily.

"Izuku," she greeted, receiving a large hug from Midoriya.

"Nice to see you mum," he spoke, pulling away for you to greet her as well.

"So good to see you Inko," you cooed with a gentle hug. "Hope we haven't disturbed you."

"Oh nonsense, what's all this?" She asked, eyeing all of the bags in hand.

"Happy Mother's Day," cheered Midoriya while he lifted the heavier bags in hand. "We're going to treat you with potluck brunch."

"Izuku had this planned over the last week," you explained with another yawn escaping your throat. "Nothing but the best ingredients."

Inko glanced between yourself and Midoriya, along with all of the ingredients on hand in astonishment, before her eyes pricked with tears. You contemplated whether she was growing upset, however she closed in for another hug, sharing it between the both of you.

"You two work so hard. You didn't need to do this," she cried in happiness. Because of her short height, you glanced at Midoriya who was also standing awkwardly from the hug, finding that smile on his face again.

"We wanted to," he comforted while he gently pulled away, allowing Inko to release her sudden hold before he entered the apartment. "We'll take care of the cooking and cleaning."

"Today is meant for you," you reassured her, following Midoriya with a smile. "You don't lift a finger at all."

"As long as Cutie doesn't grill a cake," he teased from within, causing your shoulders to stiffen from the twang of embarrassment.

"Huh?" uttered Inko in confusion.

"Hey! It was only once!"

SHOUTO TODOROKI | Visiting Hours

Entering into the hospital ward still felt like an odd experience. Already having bypassed the reception desk with ease, Todoroki and yourself brought a few gifts for the occasion, including a small bouquet of Autumn Bellflowers.

"Have your brother and sister visited already?" You asked curiously with the resonant sounds of footsteps filling the halls.

"Natsu visited after work, and Fuyumi spent the day with Mum yesterday," bluntly replied Todoroki.

"That's good."

Todoroki eyed a smile on your lips, the both of you walking side by side while he smiled to himself. He cherished these little stares he could steal to see you happy next to him, hoping for you to slowly become more ingrained in his life now that you were engaged.

"What?" You uttered, catching his eye on you.

"Nothing," he replied, still with a warm smile.

Soon, Room 315 was in sight before Todoroki knocked on the door, opening it for you to enter first. You spotted his mother by the window, enjoying the gifts that were brought over the past day until her tired yet calm eyes spotted you by the door.

"Welcome," she greeted, walking up to you with open arms and hugging you. That was unexpected. You quipped in surprise, before she gently released you to turn to her son.

"Hello Mum," cooly greeted Todoroki.

"Please sit," invited Rei, pulling you gently by the arm to seat you by the dining table while Todoroki placed the bouquet of flowers elsewhere. Though the tug of Rei's hands were gentle, it held purpose. You felt it in her grip, in the tiny fingertips while she pulled you into the room.

Something wasn't odd, but it was different.

"How are you both?" She asked with delight.

"Aside from work, we've been doing fine," replied Todoroki.

"Yeah, there's been a hiccup, but nothing that we couldn't handle with some old friends," you added with a smile.

"I've seen the news," started Rei, her eyes dulling a little from her thoughts. "That man that is causing a mess, there's no sign of him?"

You turned to Todoroki, catching his eye once more before he joined the table, calmly holding onto his mother's hands.

"The Commission's got eyes on him. We'll find him soon," he reassured, receiving a calm

smile from his mother. "How are you going, Mum?"

"I've been well. Natsuo brought over some gifts and Fuyumi visited with some delicious treats and meals." Rei's eyes turned to Todoroki, filled with a sadness you had seen time and time before. "Your father came by as well, only for a short while though."

"I see," shortly replied Todoroki.

"Will you be slowly moving back to the estate?" You asked out of the blue, catching Rei off guard. "I mean, there's a place there for you, and maybe it's good to stay close with... family."

"Very soon," replied Rei without hesitation. "It's a shame. I was hoping to see you more often."

"Oh, I mean I don't live far from the hospital so if ever you need anything I'm a phone call away."

A silence befell the room, one that felt odd, like how Rei held your hand not too long ago.

"What?"

"Oh it's not that I don't appreciate the offer, but I would've thought Shouto would have invited the suggestion to you," explained Rei with that content smile, almost similar to the ones she gave on Todoroki's birthday.

"Love, would you like to move in with me?" Asked Todoroki from beside you without warning and without fail.

A stammer stopped your mouth from forming comprehensible words, taken back by the question. You looked between the two, spotting that content and warm smile on mother and son. Ones that you couldn't object or argue with. This was supposed to be Mother's Day.

"This is the best gift yet," commented Rei, smiling gently at your flabbergasted reaction.

KATSUKI BAKUGOU | Future In-Laws

Both Bakugou and yourself stood by the front door of his old family home, having arranged half a day to visit his mother for Mother's Day. You noticed how blue the sky was, how bright the sun shone, and how calm the Neighbourhood felt.

If only Bakugou was as cheerful.

You eyed him every once in a while, his face unchanging with that scowl etched in his brow. It wasn't his normal, usual, aggravated self. It was more of a-

"What?" He growled, his eyes glancing into yours.

"Nothing," you responded coolly with a smile.

"Don't gloat."

"I'm not."

"If that hag says anything, we're walking back home."

A snort escaped your nostrils, a small one but nonetheless one that continued to bubble into your shoulders. "I love your parents," you commented.

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"You're here!" Exclaimed Mitsuki, causing a cringe on Bakugou's snarl but a smile from yours.

"Hi Mitsuki!" You chirped, hugging the woman by the door.

"Oh hush, you can call me Mum now."

"Mum?"

"Shut up hag," reacted Bakugou with a snarl. "They're not calling you that."

"I give them my consent, Katsuki. You have no say in the matter," snarked Mitsuki.

The tension was, well, insurmountably tense, standing between two very aggressive individuals in a staring contest. Until you spotted a familiar set of eyes from inside the house, waving meekly despite his tall stature.

"Hi Masaru," you greeted with a wave of your own.

"I see the day has started," he commented while his eyes worriedly observed the growling match his wife and son were dealing with by the door. You only chuckled until-

"Oh, you can call him Dad now, or Pop whichever you prefer," mused Mitsuki with a chirp, with no sign of aggravation on her face or in her voice.

"Honey, they don't have to call me-"

"No, I won't accept it. Our Katsuki has found his one and only, so they're now a part of the family!"

"Will you shut it you old hag?" Interrupted Bakugou again. "They're not calling you that, and they don't want to."

"You're not the voice of reason here, you brat! Even as a man, you're still a child!"

You stuttered at the sudden change and turn of phrase every so often. The thought crossed your mind that you would've been so used to this family dynamic now. But there were some things you hoped you weren't the center of attention for. That was difficult when you were between Bakugou and his mother.

You gently held onto Bakugou's arm, pressing your body against it in hopes to comfort him while you smiled at Mitsuki.

"Why don't we cross that bridge when we cross the threshold?" You suggested. "After all it's your day today and we are happy to spend it with you out of our Hero schedules."

A deep sigh escaped Mitsuki's lips while she smiled back at you. "Of course, I still think that you're now a part of the Bakugou family, so no pressure when you're comfortable with the new names."

"You'll hear it straight from me," you reassured, causing a giggle to erupt from Mitsuki.

"Splendid, come on in." Mitsuki skipped inside the family home, leaving Bakugou and yourself by the door to spot Masaru following after her, mouthing his thanks to you.

You felt Bakugou's aggressive and tense nature wash away while you held onto his arm throughout the small conversation with Mitsuki, tenderly rubbing your hand against his skin before you noticed his stare on you.

"You okay?" You asked with a smile.

"Yeah, no thanks to that hag," he retorted. "But... thanks."

"Always here for you."

You felt his large hand intertwine with yours, fingers pressed together, palms touching. A smirk appeared on Bakugou's lips before he led you into his old family home, a place you had become acquainted with for years, now stepping into it as his fiancé.

#shouto x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #midoriya x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha au #bnha sero #bnha fluff #bnha fanfiction

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jeo9n · 4 years ago

Text

Majesty Pt 10 || JJK

Pairing : Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre : slow burn,angst,fluff,virgin reader,King JK,future smut

Warnings : Jungkook gets a little jealous

Wordcount : 4K

previous | next

"What?!" Was the first thing your mother said, with a shocked look on her face, when you told her about everything that had happen yesterday.

She couldn’t believe that the King would do something like that to you. She couldn’t believe that the man that had sat in her home and promised to care for you just a few weeks prior would do something like this. She just could not believe it. He seemed so nice, he also seemed like he really liked you. "Are you serious? You better not be joking right now, Y/n!"

"Of course I’m not joking, mom! I caught them having sex. I saw it with my own eyes! Why would I be joking about that?" You told her in a annoyed tone. What Jungkook did last night really hurted you, even if you don’t admit it. You thought he liked you, but last night proved that you clearly thought wrong. "He did not even look sorry when I caught them, not even a little bit. He did not even apologize, mom. All he said was, that he needed sex and that I’m a dumb little virgin that doesn’t know anything about." You chuckle ironically at that.

Your mom looks at you with a sad expression on her face. You know she feels sorry for you. She only ever wanted the best for you and now you have a husband that is cheating on you not even a year into your marriage. "Oh dear, I’m so sorry!" She says, putting her arm around your shoulder and rubbing your arm comfortingly. "You guys are married. He should’ve talked to you about it, not sleeping with his ex mistress!"

"I know! I mean, he knew that I’m a virgin from the very beginning, he even said thats why he chose me. So why did he not talk with me about it? maybe we could’ve worked things out. But what did he? He went and slept with that bitch and ruined everything." You sigh. You don’t understand Jungkook. One day he’s being nice to you and then the next day it’s like he’s a whole another person. "I don’t wanna go back to the castle, mom." You tell her, turning your face so you can look at her. "You don’t have to!" She tells you calmly. She would never make you go back to castle, back to him, that’s not what kind of person she was. If you wanted to stay here, then you’re going to stay here.

You were on your way back home later that day. Your mom has asked you to pick up some milk and flour for her, since she wanted to bake a cake and was out those things. So you went and got them for her. You were carelessly waking home, when you saw the King and two bodyguards by his side, standing outside of your house. You really did not want to see him again, not after yesterday. But here he was, standing right in front of you. You were about to turn around and walk away, but Jungkook turned his head in your direction before you got the chance to even move.

"Ah, see who we got here! My wife that I have been looking for all day." He says weirdly calm, as he started approaching you. You grabbed the bag you were holding more tightly, when he got closer. Just seeing his face again made you angry again. You cannot believe he has the audacity to come here, to your home, looking for you. After what he did yesterday night. "Care to explain why you’re here and not at the castle, hm?"

You laugh at that, you actually have to laugh at that. Is he seriously asking you that right now? "Jungkook, are you dumb?" You ask him and he looks at you a little dumbfounded. "I think you already know the answer as to why I’m here! So dont act dumb and stop asking me those stupid questions." You tell him and start walking inside, to get away from him, but he follows you. Of course he would follow you.

When you got inside, you find your mother in the kitchen. She looks at you worriedly, obviously already knowing that Jungkook was waiting for you outside. She had told him that you weren’t home, when he came and looked for you. She told him that he should just leave and that you weren’t going back to castle with him, but he just shook his head, smiled at her and said "oh, she is coming back with me." And walked back outside to wait for you.

You let out a sigh and put down your bag. You knew that Jungkook would notice you being gone and you knew that he would find you. I mean, how could he not? It probably wasn’t hard for him to find you anyway. Jungkook knew that you would go to your mom’s home, where else would you go?

You heard Jungkook walking in right behind you. "Come on, Y/n, I don’t have much time. Just hurry up so we can go home."

"I am not going home with you, Jungkook!" You turn around to look at him. He’s starting to irritate you. "I don’t even know why you came here in the first place. I left for a reason! And that reason is, that we’re done and I’m staying here." Turning around again and getting the your moms stuff out of the back. Grabbing them with a little too much force than necessary.

He chuckles behind you, which irritates you more. "Aw don’t be mad at me." He says, leaning into you so he’s at head level with you. "Let’s go home, Bambi." He whispers into your ear.

You turn your head around so fast at the mention of your nickname, almost bumping your head into Jungkook‘s. "What did you just call me?" You ask him, with wide eyes.

"Wow chill." He tells you, putting up hands in front of him. "What did you just call me, Jungkook?" You ask him again.

He looks at you confused, not understanding your sudden outburst. "I called you by your name!" He explains. But you don’t believe him. You heard something different. "No, that’s not what you said!"

"Uh yes? I said, let’s go home, Y/n. - what’s wrong with you, are you okay?" He ask you, putting his hand on your forehead to check if you were sick.

You roll your eyes at him. "I’m fine!" You say, putting his hand away from you. "I just - I don’t know. I thought I heard something different." Shaking your head. Are you going crazy now? You probably imagined it, Jungkook couldn’t have called you by your nickname, he doesn’t even know your nickname.

"Okay so, if your don’t with that now," Jungkook starts, pointing his head towards the stuff on the counter, interrupting your thoughts. "Then let’s go home, now."

"I think you should just go home with him, darling." Your mom interrupts, making you both turn your heads. Is she forreal? "What? Mom, no!" You quickly say, but she shakes her head. "Y/n, dear, Jungkook obviously won’t leave without you." She says, looking in his direction and he nods, confirming her words. "You’re going to stand here till dawn still saying no. Just make it easier for you and go with him. He’s your husband after all."

Your moms right. You have to go back, even if you don’t want to. You’re married to him and he’s also the King. You should just behave and go back to the castle with him and avoid getting punished.

"Ugh fine!" You say throwing your hands up in the air. You cannot believe you just agreed on going back to the castle. You can see Jungkook grinning from the corner of your eye, obviously happy to he got his way again, like always. You just roll your eyes at that.

You really did not want to go back to the castle, but here you were.

You ignored Jungkook the whole way back to castle. You did not feel like talking to him. Even when he talked to you, you did not answer him.

It hasn’t even been 24/7 hours yet and your already back. You wish you could just turn around and leave again, but you knew you couldn’t. Jungkook would find and bring you back to the castle anyway. So you did not even try. When you got inside you saw Maria and a few of the other maids looking at you with a apologetic and worried look on their faces.

You did not like that all. You did not like that they looked at you like that, like they felt sorry for you, when they knew what he was doing all along.

"Do I have something on my face or why do y’all keep looking at me?" You asked them annoyed. They all quickly looked away and got back to their work. Making you shake your head.

"Don’t be so mean to them, Y/n. They were worried for you!"

"I don’t care." You tell him, walking up the stairs to go to your room. Wanting to get away from everyone. But Jungkook followed you. "What Are you doing?" He asked you when he saw you opening the door to your old room, you stayed in when you first arrived at the castle.

"Well, what does it look like? I’m going into my room." You say, shrugging your shoulders. Turning around again to get into your room, but Jungkook puts his hand on your arm stopping you. "This isn’t your room, Y/n, you know that. Our room is down the hall, you’re at the wrong door, baby."

You cross your arms in front of your chest and squint your eyes at him. "I’m not going back into that room with you, Jungkook!"

He tilts his head and quirks his eyebrow at you. "Why not?" Is he really asking you why?

You shake your head and laugh at him. "Jungkook, do you really think im going back into that room and sleep in same bed with you, you fucked another woman in?" You ask him, already irritated again. "Cause if that’s what you thought, then you thought wrong! I’m not going back into that room!"

Now Jungkook is the one laughing at you and you have to hold yourself back from punishing him in his annoying face. "The bed has obviously been cleaned already!" He says, as if that made anything better. "Now, quit acting like a child and come back to our room with me."

"No!" You shake your head. "Now, if you would excuse me, I would like to go back to my room!" You smile at him, opening the door to your room and quickly closing and locking it after you.

Jungkook stays outside of your room for a while saying that you don’t have to stay in that room and should come back to your shared bedroom and that you would regret it if you stayed in that room, but you ignored him and went to take a bath instead.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

It’s been a few months since the day you got back to castle. Jungkook and you have gotten a little closer again since then, but you still don’t sleep in the same room with him. You still did not forgive Jungkook for cheating on you. He hurted you and that’s not something you just forgive someone, you just try to not think about it as much, but that doesn’t mean you forgot about. Jungkook also hasn’t seen his ex mistress ever since that day you caught them together, which is good you guess. Everything has gotten back to normal again, you eat together, spend the day together (whenever Jungkook is home) you spend time with Leo, spend a lot of time in the library or some day you just stay in your room.

"Y/n, where are you?" You can hear Jungkook yell from a distance. Before he opens the door to the library and finds you. "There you are!" He says with a smile on as he starts walking toward you.

"Here I am." You smile.

"I knew I would find you here." He says, standing behind you and putting his hands on your shoulder. You smile at him at that. "But why are you here reading a book? We’re leaving in 20 minutes to visit the neighborhood Kingdom, shouldn’t you get ready?" He asks and you freeze. You totally forgot about that. Shit.

You quickly close the book you were reading and turn around in your seat. "That is today? Oh my god I totally forgot about that, I’m sorry!" You quickly say, as you get up so you can go and get ready.

Jungkook finds your reaction cute. He’s not mad at you because you forgot about your meeting today, he sometimes forgets stuff too, that’s okay. "It’s okay!" He tells you, as you both walk out of the library. "You should hurry up and get ready tho."

You turn your head and nod. "Okay." You say, quickly walking to your room to get changed.

You changed into a light blue dress and quickly did your hair. You did not want to be late, so you got done as fast as you could. Jungkook was already waiting at the door for you when you got down, he was wearing a beige suit with a few gold details. His black hair was shorter now than it used to be, since he cut it last week. You liked his new hairstyle, it suited him really well.

You arrived at the neighborhood Kingdom faster than you expected, it only took you like 30 minutes to get here. The castle was beautiful, a little smaller than yours but it was still pretty big. It was dark brown much, much different to yours, but you liked it.

One of the chamberlains brought you and Jungkook to the King’s royals office, where he was waiting for you.

You gasped at how beautiful the King was. When doors the office opened and you finally saw him. You dared to say he was even a little more handsome than Jungkook. His light brown hair was pushed back exposing his forehead and his beautiful face, he had lips so plum that you suddenly felt the need to kiss him. He had broad shoulders and was really tall, which you noticed when he got up to greet the both of you.

"Hello, I’m Kim Seokjin, King of Caspian. It’s a pleasure meeting you." He introduced himself to you, kissing the back of your hand.

You look down on your hand he was holding before quickly introducing yourself. "I’m Y/n, his wife." You say while looking at Jungkook to see him with a sour look on his face. "It’s nice meeting you, your highness." You say, as you turn your head around again to look at him. He gives you a beautiful smile, before letting go of your hand to greet Jungkook.

They quickly greet each other and get right to work. You just sit there not understanding a thing, being bored out of your mind. If you were at home you would leave and go hang out with Leo, but you weren’t at home, so you were forced to sit here and listen to stuff you don’t understand.

They finally finished their work later that day. You’re happy to be finally going home, you sat here almost all day, you really wanna go home now. You all get up to say your goodbyes and leave. "Would you like to stay for dinner?" Seokjin asks, when he got up. You and Jungkook quickly look at each other before looking back at Seokjin.

"We can’t - Sure." You both say at the same time. You thought staying for dinner would be nice, since he asked so nicely but Jungkook apparently had other plans. "We would love to stay." You say quickly, when you see the confused look on Seokjins face.

He nods and smiles. "Perfect! Then lets go down to eat." He says, "I’m sure dinner must be done already." He points towards the door, silently asking you to follow him.

When you look over to Jungkook you can see that he’s pissed, his jaw is clenched and his stare is intense. "Why did you do that?" He asks in a whisper. You don’t understand why he’s mad. "I just thought it would be nice to have dinner with him." You shrug. "We’re already here anyway, staying over a little big longer for dinner won’t hurt." You say, but your words just seem to piss him off more.

When you arrive downstairs at dining room, the table is already full of food. It looks so delicious that your stomach crumbles, you had food before you came over but eating again won’t hurt, right?

You all sit down, you and Jungkook sit down next each other while Seokjin sits down on his usual seat. Once you sit down, the maid immediately fill your plates with food. Probably a little more than you can eat, but you don’t mind. You all start eating and you almost moan once the food hits your tastebuds. You thought Maria was a amazing cook, but this food taste just a slight better.

Jungkook and Seokjin have a little small talk while you continue eating. "So when did you guys get married?" Seokjin asks and you look up.

"Just a few months ago." Jungkook answers for you. Seokjin nods before he continues. "So how did you guys meet? Did you meet her at you wife competition?" He asks and you nod.

"Yeah." You tell him. "I thought Jungkook would never choose someone like me, but he did." You smile and look at Jungkook to see him not even smiling a bit. You turn your head again to look at Seokjin again. "But yeah, that’s how we met."

"When are you planning on getting married?" Jungkook asks in return.

Seokjin takes a sip of his wine and smiles. "I don’t know. I would wish to marry someone as beautiful as you." He says while looking at you. "I wish I had found first instead of Jungkook, i would treat you so good."

You chuckle awkwardly at him, while your hair behind your ear. You did not know what do say to that - what Are you even supposed to say to something like that?

Jungkook clenches his fists tightly behind you, which you don’t notice. He cannot believe Seokjin is flirting with his wife right in front of him. He takes a deep breath to try to calm him down.

"Does Jungkook treat you right, Y/n?" He asks you suddenly.

You’re not sure what to say... I mean, he treats you nice (sometimes) "U-Uh yeah - yeah he does." You quickly say and nod your head.

All Seokjin does is smile at that and continues eating.

You left Seokjins Kingdom a little while after finishing dinner. You were glad you left. He kinda started creeping you out towards the end, so you were more than happy to leave.

You went to take a shower when you arrived at home.

Jungkook kept acting weird on your ride home, maybe because he wasn’t happy about staying for dinner? But you don’t understand why he had a problem with that.

You got out the shower and walked back into your room. When you closed the bathroom door behind you, you gasped and almost let go of your towel. Jungkook was sitting on your bed just looking at you. You did not expect him to be here, so seeing him here in your room startled you.

"When did you came in?" You ask him, as you hold you towel around you more tightly.

"Just a few minutes ago." He explains.

"Okay, why are you here."

He shrugs. "I wanted to talk to you, but you were in the shower so I waited." He says, as he looks you up and down.

You can feel his eyes on you which makes you blush. "Oh! Okay. What do you want to talk about?" Biting your lip nervously.

"About earlier - Come sit down." He says, patting the empty seat on the bed next to him. You hesitate for a bit. Your still naked with only your towel around you to hide your body from him, but end up sitting down next to him anyway.

You sit down carefully, while crossing your legs, not wanting to expose anything.

Jungkook turns his body in your direction once you sit down next to him. "Why did you not say anything when Seokjin was flirting with you earlier?" He asks you.

You look at him confused. "W-what do you mean? He wasn’t flirting with me, Jungkook. I think he was trying to be nice?" You say, which sounds more like a question.

"No. He was clearly flirting with you." He explains. "Right in front of me, that fucker flirted with you right in front of me! I wanted to punsh him in his face so bad." He says with a clenched jaw.

You put your hands over his trying to calm him down. "Well, it’s not my fault that he was "flirting with me". You say. "And why are you so mad about it? I’m your wife not his‘, I’ll tell him to fuck off the next time."

Jungkook shakes his head, while taking your hands in his'. "There won’t be a next time! You won’t go back there again, never."

"Alright, then don’t worry about it anymore. It won’t happen again." You tell him, looking down at your hands. You love the way your hands look together, they’re like a perfect fit for each other.

"What do I have to do for you to come and sleep with me in our bed again?" He suddenly asks you, which makes you look up. You weren’t expecting that question. You don’t know when your going back to your shared bedroom. You wanna stay in this room for a little longer.

"I don’t know." You shrug. He looks a little sad at your answer, which you find cute. "You can sleep with me here tonight, if you want?" You ask carefully.

He smiles and immediately nods. "I would love to."

You squeeze his hand and smile. "Okay, just let get dressed real quick." You say, before getting and grabbing your nightgown to go get dressed in the bathroom.

When you come out of the bathroom, Jungkook is already laying in bed waiting for you. You go and lay down next to him and he immediately grabs and hugs you from behind. You smile at that, laying in Jungkook’s arms makes you feel saved and dare you say, loved.

"Im happy we’re sharing a bed again." He says, giving you a kiss on you neck, creating goosebumps all over your body. You turn around in his hold to be face to face with him. "I’m happy too, Jungkook."

He looks at you for a while before he leans in closer, taking in a deep breath, inhaling you scent. "Can I kiss you?" He whispers against your lips and you nod. He leans in and your lips touch for the first time again in months. It feels like your kissing him for the first time all over again. Your tummy tingles and your heart beats faster.

Jungkook deepens the kiss while angling his head, propping his tongue against your lips, asking for a invite. You open your mouth after a while and Jungkook carefully slips his tongue inside, you moan once you feel his tongue against yours. It’s a weird feeling, but you like the feeling it’s giving you. Your body suddenly feels hot, wanting more but before you could do anything, Jungkook already backed away from your lips. You whine at the loss and Jungkook chuckles.

"I know how your feeling, baby. But let’s not rush things, okay?" He says, and you nod, understanding what he means. "Let’s go to sleep. We had a long day." He says.

"Okay" you nod, he’s giving you one last kiss before you both fall asleep in each other’s arms.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Taglist: @fangirl125reader @min-nicoleee @yzkyzkuniverse @safi4x @zoeshinelove @wearenot7withu @queenmasterxx @dreamer95 @kleritata @hardcarrykookie @bts-junseagull @fareeshaaaa @two-unbeatable-beaters

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wickedpact · 3 years ago

Text

heres a transcript of that gina & greg interview i mentioned yesterday. literally nothing new is in this, but theres a lot of info in this that was scattered in varying interviews/podcasts and i like having all of it in one place for future reference purposes

(link to vid)

Patrick: Hey everybody, this is Patrick Cavanaugh from comicbook.com here to bring you a very special conversation about Netflix's The Old Guard, which just debuted last week, and everybody has seen it-- I believe people have seen it by now, so that's very exciting. And to dive deep into this film, we're actually very lucky to have the film's director Gina Prince-Bythewood, who also directed Love And Basketball and Beyond The Lights here. Hello, Gina.

Gina: Hey.

P: And we're also joined by the film's writer, as well as the writer of the original comic book series, The Old Guard. Also, you might know him from his DC Comics work, Batwoman, and Lazarus, to name a few of his titles. We have Greg Rucka! Hello, Greg.

Greg: Hello!

P: So this film just first debuted last week, and I know you guys have been inundated with fans, just loving it. And let's just get to what fans want to know, right off the bat; I'm sure you're getting daily questions about this because there's so much for an expanded universe. So let's set the record straight: will there be a Tiger King crossover?

[everyone laughs]

Greg: Uh, we're planning an animated series with giant Mech suits, and, unbeknownst to a certain franchise, we're going to crossover with Transformers and-- no. Come on. [laughs]

P: Okay, alright, we’ll hold onto that big crossover stuff. And I know Netflix, of course, hasn’t fully announced what the future might be for Old Guard, but I'm just kind of curious if you guys have had any recent conversations about what you'd like to do in the future—theoretical, nothing concrete, of course. But since the film has come out and you've seen fan feedback…?

Gina: I will just say, obviously, it's an incredible compliment that people want to see more. It means we did our job in this. It was very important that this film has a beginning middle and end. We wanted to focus on this.

Greg: Yeah.

Gina: And get it right. Having people want more is an incredible gift and I would say those conversations were really… Greg and I, early on in talking through the story... knowing Greg knows where this thing goes --and it's pretty incredible-- helped me in terms of directing this one. So I will say we've had those conversations early on.

Greg: Yeah Gina’s absolutely right. One of the things that I'm really-- one of the many things I am proud of is that the movie is a whole, you certainly leave it going ‘okay, there could be more, I can see how there is more’. But it is a complete work. It is not contingent and does not need anything else. That said, there were plenty of times we were having conversations and would jokingly be like, ‘oh that'll be in the next one, we'll do that in the next one. We had to cut this so we’ll put it in the next one’.

P: I'm sure people would be very thrilled, as would I. So we’ll try to remain patient since it's only been out a week--

Greg: I think that's reasonable.

P: [sarcastic] I mean, fans are nothing but reasonable--

Greg: [very loud laughter] You know what 'fan' is short for right? Fanatic.

P: [laughs] So Greg, I'm curious. You know, since this is a pretty unique situation where you wrote the original books but then also came to write the script-- which doesn't always happen all that often. I was kind of curious what that process was like and if, when revisiting that core story, if you were tempted to kind of go off into a new directions, you know, uncharted territory? And how you managed to stay faithful to that story.

Greg: So when Skydance initially acquired The Old Guard, Matt Grimm and Don Granger were the guys that I was working with. And they were very clear that they had acquired it because they loved the source material. So when I was doing the adaptation, it was ‘adapt this story to be told in a screen format, there are changes that have to be made’. I didn't see it so much as like ‘I can go in a different direction!’ as ‘it's a really rare opportunity to have a second bite at the apple’. Most writers don't get to tell the same story twice. And even with the collaborative nature of comics, making a movie is far more collaborative. So… being able to benefit from a lot of very smart people-- and then when Gina came aboard, and working very closely with her on the screenplay, you know, taking her notes, and talking at length about it was… I mean, I love the comic we made, I'm very proud of it. But I think this is a superior story. Because it allowed me to fix mistakes I had made. And I think that it certainly works as the film that we wanted it to be, but it has a lot more nuance and a lot more ‘shading’ than the comics ever could have had. So yeah, I mean, I'm very proud of the work we've done.

P: Yeah, as you should be, definitely agree with that. And I know, Gina, you've spoken about how you treated the source material essentially as a Bible as the blueprint for adapting the movie. So a question kind of for both of you, I was curious what scene or sequence were you most excited to bring to life? And then what scene were you most apprehensive about whether or not you could pull it off as faithful to that original?

Gina: For me, I mean, there was there were certainly a couple... Joe and Nicky in the van.

Greg: [nodding] Yeah.

Gina: Such a beautiful moment in the comic. And I wanted to get it right. I knew the actors really wanted to get it right. As soon as we started shooting, I was like, 'oh yeah, they're killing it'. Also Booker in the mine, the speech that he gives to Nile, it's everything to his character. It explains both Booker and Andy; where they are, and why they are the way that they are in that moment of time. And I know that as a director, I saw a perfect take. But going into those, you hope that, ‘am I able to evoke what I need to evoke in the audience?’ I think that the hardest really was the Kill Floor, given how iconic it is in the comic. It's just so beautifully drawn by Leandro, it pops off the page. So ‘how am I going to be able to do the same thing on film?’ But it really kind of boiled down to ‘what is the story [of the scene]’ and really focus on that first, but also wanting to really give a bit of a homage to what Leandro did too, which was my use of silhouette throughout it.

Greg: Yeah, I think that… Gina just listed all of the scenes. I mean, I wanted to see the armored car, that was enormously rewarding for me… I couldn't wait to see the killing room floor... You know, when we talk about moments of adaptation, I actually —and I thought this was really well handled in the movie in particular— Nile’s death wasn't wasn't easy in the comic, because it needed to have heart. You know, Kiki's performance and the way it's shot is just, it's phenomenal.

P: And obviously you can't really talk about this movie, which is this big action-fantasy movie, without talking about that scene between Joe and Nicky. I'm curious what both of your reactions have been to seeing that moment hit so hard with so many fans.

Greg: I'm overjoyed that we're able to give that to so many people. I am also frustrated that it's so overdue. While I don't think that either Gina or I felt that this was… It was important and special because it was important and special between these characters. But, you know, I mean I’m in that place where I recognize why we are getting the response that we are, and, I'm frustrated by the fact that it's 2020. And… apparently we're the first people to have done this? And you can say that about a lot of the reactions, you can say that about the reactions to Kiki's Nile. You can say that about reactions about Charlize portraying Andy. There’s a piece of me that's like ‘guys, we didn't invent the wheel here. All we did was show you, THERE’S A WHEEL HERE!’. So.

P: Yeah, it's interesting and it is frustrating that it is 2020 and we have to refer to this as an anomaly. That this is not the norm, that as you said, this is we're showing people that the wheel exists. And so Gina, you know, between having a film with two powered, seemingly super-powered characters, in a comic book adaptation, which is largely been devoid of such characters. [I think he meant to say female powered characters?] and being a black woman, directing a comic book adaptation— again, something in 2020 that we have to treat as a shocking revelation— I was curious, if you felt any sort of pressure about that on set, or if it was like just a confidence in the material, and support from your collaborators, that it wasn't even an issue?

Gina: Um, are you talking about the scene-?

P: Just the project as a whole.

Gina: There was a reason I took this film, because it moved me. It has to start there. There's all these things; I love putting a black female in the world, I love putting Nicky and Joe in the world, I love putting Joe’s character in the world. Those are all such incredible driving forces. But foremost, I have to feel and care about the characters in the story. And I did. And so, for me, it felt... I mean I was honored to be able to be the one to give these characters a life up on screen... or in that big screen in your living room. There's, of course, enormous pressure. Not only just doing a film, like the bigness of it. Certainly me being a woman, me being a black woman, and doing this when nobody has done it before… It's about proving myself and proving that women like me can do this, that we do like action, that we can shoot action… Just changing that narrative. So there's pressure to get it right and do a good job, but I feed off of that. It made me work harder because I felt like I absolutely had a responsibility to get it right.

P: And we've talked about Kiki a few times as Nile, of course. And Gina, I know you said it was within five seconds of meeting her that you knew she was the right one to play Nile. I was curious, how did the rest of the casting process go? Did everybody get hired that easily? Or was it a harder search to round out the ensemble?

Greg: Yes. I’m curious too!

Gina: You know, I knew going into this that I wanted great actors for every role and it's pretty amazing how many of my first choices are in this film. I mean Matthias Schoenaerts who plays Booker is an incredible actor and I knew I wanted him from the get-go. We were told he doesn't do films like this, but he wanted to meet, which was the first thing, like, ‘oh my gosh it’s on me, don't blow this meeting’ and he said again to my face, ‘I don't do these movies, but I love this movie’ and he loved the character Booker. And after that conversation and hearing my vision, he was in, which was amazing. Marwan Kenzari, I saw him in this independent film called Wolf—

Greg: Yeahhhhhh.

Gina: Phenomenal. And he was supposed to read for the part. We had a meeting over FaceTime. Then, Zoom was not what it is now. And it was such an incredible meeting. He was so passionate about the material. So passionate about the character Joe. So passionate about wanting to give that speech. His energy… I just said 'you don't need to read, like, you're Joe'. Luca Marinelli, who plays Nicky, I saw his audition. He has this depth to him, those eyes.. where you just, you felt everything, you felt his soul. But I needed to do a chemistry reading, as I would with any love story. And so, we flew him in to read with Marwan. They did this incredible improv, and it was so obvious that these two were Joe and Nicky. It was a really beautiful moment as a director to just… know, and I was so excited to show everybody what they had. It leapt off the screen, their connection; they’d never met before but, immediate connection. Chiwetel Ejiofor, I mean… [awed silence]

Greg: Chiwetel... yeah.

Gina: Yeah. To hear that he wanted to be in this and work with me on this, I didn't need anything else at that point. He's truly a genius. Charlize, you know, there are very few women who can work in the space and we believe them. And that's the thing about her work, and her action, we believe her. And we needed that for Andy. And of course she's a great actress, so it was, you know, that was kind of a no-brainer. So, lastly Harry Melling, you know our villain. It's funny, Don Granger, at Skydance, says you've done a good job with your villain if the audience wants to punch him in the face. Harry brought that reality of those templates of Mark Zuckerberg and Martin Shkreli and really rocked it.

Greg: I had, you know, I'm the screenwriter, right? And I am pretty much involved in the production at the director’s sufferance, and Gina was so gracious to want me present-- and more than that, want me present and say things, right? As opposed to ‘stand here and be quiet’, but I remember when Kiki… when they knew they wanted Kiki, like in that window before all the paperwork was done and so on. Throughout most of the casting I wasn't hearing a lot from Gina, just the occasional update. Like ‘I think we've got…’ and then the Kiki audition came in, and Gina, you called me, Granger texted me, Grimm texted me. And it was all the same thing. It was all ‘we have found Nile, oh my god, there were these two scenes and she had us howling in one and weeping in the other and she is perfect’. And the exuberant joy, you know, I remember you on that call being like ‘NO, THIS IS HER!!’. It's like, this is gonna be awesome.

P: So, and to open things up a little bit more to the actual mythology of the film and the comic book series, I think one of the coolest things is that this film doesn't entirely explore is why these characters come back to life? But we also don't entirely need to know that to just… witness this slice of time in their journey. So I'm kind of curious, maybe Greg you have more insight on this, but I'm curious if either of you have those ideas in your head of what the root of this, you know, blessing or curse, the curse of immortality? Or is that just stuff that's entirely irrelevant to this journey?

Greg: I think it's irrelevant… to the journey of the first film. That the story is a self-contained story and you don't need to know why they are immortal. And I think that the film actually does tell you, not specifically, but the film does provide you with enough information to allow you to draw certain conclusions. Because there are really a limited number of ways that they're going to get this way, right? We do not, for instance, see Nile fall into a vat of regeneration juice, right? That's not why Nile comes back. There is a mythology. We know the mythology. We know the why and that's for later. Yes, maybe it will become relevant to the story, but for this story that was told as it was told? No, you don't need to know why.

Gina: The striking thing, when I read the script for the first time was I didn't… I didn't care. Like, I didn't need it. And that surprised me because I know Greg had talked about another company who was interested in the project [Gina doesn’t say, but it was Sony lmao] kept asking ‘you have to tell us why though, in this story, an audience needs to know why’. He was absolutely right [for disagreeing with Sony]. Because I didn't need to know why.

Greg: It's the Rian Johnson School of, you know, it's Looper. ‘We can spend two hours talking about time travel or you can accept that we're in time travel. Which is it going to be?’ And I think that that is one of the most brilliant storytelling decisions made in the last 20 years in film! Literally 'here it is—DOESN’T MATTER, MOVING ON!’ you know.

P: Yeah. It's definitely a bold direction to take. And to have an issue with 'oh, well, we never learn [about the] immortality!' proves that you just miss the point of what the movie is, and that that stuff is kind of irrelevant for right now. Although I do kind of hope that because it's on Netflix someone's expecting like a post credit scene, but it's the autoplay feature, right? [Greg and Patrick talk over eachother, laughing]

Greg: We did talk about that button as a post-credit scene, the Booker [scene]—

Gina: That was originally supposed to be a tag.

Greg: And there was, for a while, the contemplation of ‘maybe we can still [put the Booker scene in as a post-credit scene] and really that'll be like a great big reward for those people who actually watch credits on Netflix. It’s like, you got a bonus scene!’

P: So another, you know, people are loving the characters, they're loving the performances, but also the action is so cool in it, and it feels reminiscent of some other films. But the urgency and efficiency of all of the action sequences always feel like they have a point, and they're not just ‘look what we can pull off this week!’ You know, it's not John Wick on a horse fighting motorcycles because we don't need to do that. It's, you know, always to a point. So I'm kind of curious Greg, what does an action scene look like in your script? And then Gina, what was your whole motivation for putting these action scenes together?

Greg: I had two approaches in this script and used both. Sometimes I would write the sequence as you know, as a series-- this is what is happening, ‘he swings and then his head goes flying’ or whatnot. But knowing very well that unless the script needed to see-- because the script has to specify what is a must. It's a must. It's a must document. ‘We must see this’. ‘We must know this information’. So for a lot of the time, I would sort of drop into a narrative voice and say, ‘okay, now we watch the five of them proceeded to kick every ass and take every name that they come across and please bear in mind you are watching over 10,000 years of combat experience, combined between them’. And then that's the description of an action sequence, right? The screenplay… it's a construction document. It's not the interior decorator’s document. It's not even the Foreman's document. It's an architectural document. And then you give it to the Foreman of the whole production, who then goes, ‘I agree, these are the important things’, and then you get out of their way and watch them do the thing that they have, you know, become an expert at doing to make it happen.

P: Gina, what's your reaction when you read Greg’s script saying, ‘oh, you know, just five immortal warriors demonstrating 10,000 years of combat experience’?

Gina: It's like ‘oh shit’. [everyone laughs] Like that's a very cool thing to read—

Greg: But how do you film it?

Gina: Yeah, exactly! Then you start at the beginning of the scene and 'what character can we reveal in the scene'? And when you start like that, it's less overwhelming. Because the best action sequences for me, when I go to the movies, are those that have a story to them and that are character driven, that have an emotion. So I really started there in the vision of what they should be and just working with my incredible, incredible stunt team, Jeff Habberstad and Danny Hernandez and Bryson Counts[? I dont know who that is]. Designing these fights to tell this story, to showcase this part of character, to further the story. And that was important as well, that we never wanted this film to feel like… rushing through the story to get to each action sequence. All of this works seamlessly. The quiet moments are just as important as the action moments. And so that was exciting to me. But being able to tell the story, reveal character, that was fun. And then it's ‘yeah, how do we choreograph so it feels as if these characters finish each other sentences, so to speak, in terms of action, knowing where the other is going to be, knowing when somebody's out of bullets and need another clip?' Like all those things, the way that they're always picking up used guns and used clips, just this dance. And it was very cool, you know, to really put that together and see what the team came up with. And then to see the actors embody that, bring character, bring performance to that. Which is why it was so great that I had the actual actors doing most of the work, so that we can see that performance.

Greg: I think you used a word that I think clearly came from what Gina’s describing and talking about with working with Danny and Jeff and Bryson. Which is 'efficient'. Like, if you watch the film, you will see that there is only one sequence where Andy is ever firing more than twice, and it is on the killing room floor. After that, whenever she fires a gun, it's one bullet. It goes exactly where she wants it to go. Everything she does becomes an issue of ‘her style is efficiency—‘

Gina: Yeah, that was a big—‘brutal efficiency’ is a term we talked about often, where they know a kill shot. They are not the type that are going to go in an environment and spray. It's lazy and not who they are. They are not going to ever hit someone by accident. They are too good. And their moral code is not like an ordinary For Hire who are just trying to get the target by any means necessary.

P: Yeah, and also speaking to what I feel set these action sequences apart from other action films is, we're used to, you know, like thumping techno or hard rock or something kick in. You know, I don't think anyone had like, you know, Frank Ocean being in an action film on Netflix on their 2020 Bingo cards. So I'm just kind of curious how you put that soundtrack together and what that process was like.

Gina: Yeah. I love music so much. It's so much a part of me as an artist. And for me, I love songs for scores, songs that can evoke an emotion, and elevate a scene or the emotion of a scene without taking it over. And music for this film was so important, to the tone. It was such a balance. This is a violent film, yet I never wanted it to feel like a celebration of violence. The fact that there was a cost to the killing and then motion to the killing. So always wanted to keep that in mind-- and music really helped with that. There's also a thing of, you know, I'm the first audience and I actually don't like heavy metal. So, it annoys me when I watch a movie and it's this non-stop thump. In the rectory —spoiler alert— when Andy kills 19 people, the music I chose was important because it took away the sting of that. I didn't want an audience to revel in ‘oh my God, she killed 19 people’. No, it was ‘she killed 19 people and you see on her face that this was not fun, this was not easy’. You see that on Nile’s face when she walks out, and the music helped that. I wanted the music to feel operatic, because what happened in that room did have that depth of emotion, so music again— so important for vibe and tone and it was fun to find these songs that could do exactly what I wanted them to do.

P: Greg, the narrative is definitely very faithful to the first two Old Guard series and, you know, blends together in this compelling and unique way… Just as a —you know, we are comicbook.com— so coming from the purest sense of interpreting the narrative... [Greg laughs] like there's definitely the flashback with Achilles from the comic book, and then also the flashback to Booker's hanging scene. Those are our absent from the film. And I was just curious if those were ever in the script or if you want to rework them for the future…?

Greg: No, I mean we also had, in the original series, the flashback that sort of accounts the Joe and Nicky, ‘we killed each other’, ‘many times’ sequence as well. There were drafts where all of that was there. And sometimes in greater detail than others. There was a version where that hospital scene— [in the movie] you get just the right amount of… when Booker's relaying it to Nile in the mine. But, you know, there was more to that, and you can see sort of Achilles' story’s presence in the mine, right? There's a glimpse of the painting. So those things weren't erased as much as… when you make a comic, every choice you are making is an efficiency choice. ‘You have X many pages, how are you going to spend them?’ And I'm not a filmmaker. I'm the guy who wrote the thing. But one of the things I can tell you when watching is that it's the same calculus but exponentially. It is— every single thing you are doing is asking if it's serving your narrative. And I think the trade —because it is a trade— of the Achilles backstory to build the Quynh story has a benefit that the Achilles story alone didn't have, in that the Quynh story —especially as it's relayed in the movie— not only does it illuminate Joe, Nicky, Booker, and of course Andy, but it's also Illuminating to Nile, in a way that… talking about Achilles would have been repeating a beat. Because as beautiful, and as important, Achilles is to Andy's character… Booker conveys that heartbreak with his story, right? So it becomes an efficiency question as much as anything else. I mean, that that's really what it comes down to.

P: Speaking to some of the changes again, I don't want to get to spoiler heavy but there's definitely a big change with one character and their possible fate. Don't want to ruin anything for anyone, so trying to play it safe.

Greg: [laughing] Yeah, how are we supposed to answer this, Patrick?

P: Why don't we just text each other? [everyone laughs] Well, I'm kind of curious. One character's trajectory has changed a little bit. What were the discussions like over, you know, altering their trajectory and what that could mean, you know, for their future adventures?

Greg: Well, how do we talk around this?

P: Also, if anyone's been watching this for 40 minutes and hasn't seen the movie, they've got to adjust their priorities.

Gina: I would say, it was about adding more jeopardy and stakes. It absolutely did that. What I love so much about the story and what Greg created is that these characters are mostly immortal. So there is always that threat. But it just added another level to that. But it also crystallized so well… the fact that the moment that Andy is truly saying ‘I'm done’ a new Immortal shows up in Nile. So it just seemed to work really well and, you know, obviously having Greg be so on board with that and take it and run with it was really important.

Greg: It externalizes the conflict beautifully. And I believe I think David Ellison at Skydance likes the term downward pressure, I believe. [Gina smiles, Greg sees] Did you hear that? Did you hear that during editing? [Gina nods] But it does. Look, here's a fundamental problem; it's actually one of the problems at the heart of Force Multiplied: what's jeopardy to an immortal? Cuz it's kind of, you know, as Joe says, ‘what are you gonna do, tough guy? Kill me?’ You know, ‘if I go, I go. I don't know when I'm going’. So you you need to be able to inject into the story some level of jeopardy. You want to heighten the stakes. And it also externalizes that particular character’s conflict.

P: Gina, hopefully I don't put you too much on the spot with this question. But, you know, any time there's a big comic book project announced its, you know, fans start saying, oh, I'd love this person who's done action movies to do it’ or ‘this person who’s already done 10 Sci-Fi movies…’, you know, like Taika Waititi can't direct every movie.

Gina: I would love him to!

P: I'm just actually kind of curious, Gina, if there are any directors that you're particularly a fan of who don't necessarily have the same, you know, Marvel DC, Star Wars experience that that you'd love to hear get announced as tackling, you know, a big budget comic book movie.

Greg: I would like to know too.

Gina: Certainly, I'm excited about what Victoria Mahoney's going to be doing-- she just did second unit [director] on Star Wars, first woman to ever do that. I dig her brain so much and her aesthetic. I'm really excited to see what she's going to do in the action space, certainly.

P: Yeah, very cool. Really looking forward to her career for sure. And I think we're just about out of time here. We were down—

Gina: [raising her hand] Can I ask a question real quick? Sorry, I just need a definitive answer on this because I got called out on Twitter and I asked Greg--

Greg: [laughing] Ohhhhhhh—

Gina: So is Old Guard, is it a graphic novel? Or is it a comic?

Greg: You got to answer that Patrick.

P: Oh boy.

Greg: [laughing] Literally he's watching all credibility start to evaporate if he doesn't get this right. [holding up a comic of Opening Fire] This is a what?

P: I mean… part of me, knowing that it is part one of a three-part overall series… You know, my brain goes to ‘trade paperback’, you know, like it's a volume collecting a certain amount of issues. But if you ask me before volume 2 came out, it would be collected as a graphic novel, but… they're all comic books. They're all just comic books, everybody. Let's just take it easy.

Gina: Okay, thank you.

P: That's my answer.

Greg: Thank you. Thank you. I think that is the appropriate answer.

P: They're all just comic books. Take it easy.

P: Yeah, but I am curious. Of course, one of the interesting things about the film is that over the course of hundreds… thousands of years, these characters, the old guard have kind of influenced humanity in some definitely interesting ways… And ultimately for good, is a little bit of what we're seeing in the film. And I can't help but wonder… is it possible that the old guard could have unintentionally influenced the world for bad? And have some negative ripples come from their actions, or do I have to wait for a sequel for that?

Greg: I think that is a very reasonable and logical question to ask, especially when you know, there are 19 dead bodies lying in a church. You know what I mean? There is a certain amount— and it's almost fatuous to talk about it but there is always the doctrine of unintended consequences. I will say this goes to something else— and I'll say it really quickly because I know we're running out of time. I think one of the things that I really, really loved about what's being said, in the movie, is that at the end of the film… The definitive statement is, if you take away everything about immortality, what it's saying is that… our choices matter and our actions matter and they matter in ways and to people that we will never see and never know of. We try to put right in the world by doing right. And we do that without ever seeing what the ramifications of it are. And sometimes we're going to succeed, gloriously, and sometimes we're going to fail and we may never know that either, right? It's the choice paralysis that that you get from cheating in The Good Place, right? I can't eat or drink or move because morally it's all wrong, right? But the takeaway from the film is that, ‘yeah, your life matters and what you do with it matters and it matters to people that you're never ever going to see.’

P: So yeah. Yeah. Well, I mean, I think that's a great positive, you know, message for us to leave on. And I definitely think that comes across in the film, especially, you know, from the characters like Joe and Nicky just professing… you know, it's about the time that you have. And you don't know when your number is going to be up. So you just try and do as many good things before that happens as you can, and hopefully the world responds to that. So I really connected with that message in the film. Thanks so much for taking the time to chat with me. The Old Guard has been out for… five days. So I look forward to reuniting--

Greg: Does it feel longer to you. Gina? It feels like it's longer for me. [Gina laughs]

P: I look forward to reuniting in maybe 10 more days to talk about the sequel and spin-off and the prequel and all that sort of thing. [Greg laughs] But for now, The Old Guard is still on Netflix. And of course don't be tricked into watching any post-credit scenes because you might end up watching, you know, The Great British Bake Off. Well, thanks so much guys, it was a pleasure.

#tog interviews #i dont remember the tag i use for transcripts

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high-functioning-lokipath · 4 years ago

Text

Marriage with a Spin - Loki x Reader - Words: 2,613

A/N: Enemies-ish to Relationship & Fake Relationship trope-ish LOL…Pic below is not mine but simply is for reference about rings...this was the best basis I could find 🤣 I'm using the Spin and Zero rings in this oneshot

Also! A big thanks for @ladylulu143 for helping my come up with a title and for proofreading this for me! 💖💖🤗🤗

"Alright, this is the latest alien artifact we have found," Steve said. He held up a gold ring with a small blue stone. "When on, the wearer can decelerate time around them, appearing to be at superspeed to those watching."

"So what's the deal now?" You asked. Tony brought a picture of another ring on the screen behind Cap.

"This recently popped up on our radar. By the readings we're getting from it, it seems to be related to this guy here. However, it's being held in this mansion," Tony said, clicking to the next picture. "Owned by billionaire Samuel Thatcher."

"So what am I doing here again?" Loki asked flippantly.

"Mr. Thatcher is holding a gala tomorrow night. You and Miss Y/L/N will be attending and will conveniently slip away at some point during the evening to retrieve the ring from his vault."

"Loki and me?" You exclaimed. "Why? Would you fit in much better at one of those swanky parties?"

"Everyone knows me, Y/N," Tony said, rolling his eyes.

"What about Steve then? He knows how to dance and be all proper! He's from the 40's for goodness sake!"

"Have you ever seen me try to fit in at one of those, how did you say it, swanky parties?" Steve asked with a smirk. "You two have enough class to fit in. Besides, the vault is secured by a fingerprint and retinal scan. The only person here who could pull that off is Loki."

"That is true," Loki replied with a smirk.

"Fine. What time is it?" You groan.

"6pm tomorrow," Steve answered. You nodded and got up to leave. "Oh! And one more thing!" You turned around suspiciously and saw an unnerving smile plastered across the face of America's Golden Boy. "You're going as Mr. & Mrs. Hank and Audrey Williams."

"Mister and Misses?" You both exclaimed. Steve nodded and Tony was smirking.

"Don't forget this!" Tony said, tossing the ring to you.

"Is this supposed to be my wedding ring?" You asked sarcastically.

"Actually no," Steve said. "It would seem that the ring only works on the right middle finger."

"Great. So what am I supposed to do about this?" You asked, wriggling your left fingers.

"No need to worry, darling," Loki replied. He waved his hand and a beautiful gold and emerald wedding band appeared on your finger. "Now, shall we go to my room and prepare for the rest of this delightful mission?" He asked, a touch of sarcasm in his voice.

"Of course, my dear," You replied, rolling your eyes.

The next day, Loki came to your room at about 3 in the afternoon. "What do you want, Loki?" You growled, quite annoyed that he was bothering your 'me-time'.

"Change into your uniform and meet me in my room in 5 minutes. We need to prepare." He turned to walk away but you grabbed his arm.

"Why? We should be resting before our mission tonight! I thought we already did all our planning yesterday!"

"Tactical, yes. But not practical." He once again turned away and started down the hallway. You groaned and ran after him.

"What do you mean practically? We get fancied up, we go, we get the ring, we leave. If we get in any sort of confrontation, we fight and then we leave! Simple!"

"What are you going to wear?"

"Well I can't show up in tactical so I have this old party dress. It's not perfect but it'll do I guess."

"No it will not. Where will you put your weapons? What if you need to run? Or fight?" Loki listed off his objections quickly and tutted at you. "No, no. That simply will not do."

"Well what do you suggest, oh great fashion god," You replied sarcastically. Loki rolled his eyes and waved his hand. "Oh my!" You gasped. He'd transformed your current outfit into a lovely floor length, emerald green dress. He even outfitted you with jewelry!

"And I can do the same with your-what did you call it? Tactical gear?"

"Ok, ok," you chuckled. "Thank you. I really appreciate it." You smiled genuinely and, for a moment, you thought he would return the sentiment. But he kept his disinterested demeanor and whooshed away the dress.

"I'll return it later when you're ready. You will need to do your own hair and makeup." You nodded and headed back to your room till the evening.

That night, you stood at your mirror adding the finishing touches to your mascara when suddenly there was noise beside you. Jumping in surprise, you accidentally smeared the mascara on your face. "Loki!" You exclaimed, seeing the mischievous prince standing in your room. "You scared me!"

"Well, I am naturally terrifying." You rolled your eyes and turned back to the mirror to fix your face.

"There! All done," You announced. "Well, with the exception of my dress and-" Before you could even finish he had cast his illusion upon your clothing.

"Enough with your blathering. Let's go."

"Hmph. And here I had hope you'd finally removed your head from your-"

Later at the Gala, Loki was being the perfect gentleman. Very suave and debonair. You were impressed. Of course you had to play your part too. You were smiling at his side, holding his arm. You both mingled for a while, trying to get a feel of the room, before he asked if you wished to dance. A bit surprised, you simply nodded. He whisked you out to the dance floor gracefully and pulled you close.

"The vault is downstairs. We need to find an excuse to slip out soon," He whispered to you.

"What if I pretend to be ill?" You offered.

"Someone would undoubtedly take you upstairs to one of the bedrooms to rest. That is the opposite of what we're trying to accomplish."

"But what if I'm afraid of heights?" You countered. He quirked an eyebrow at you and chuckled lowly.

"That is a terrible idea. Only you would think of it."

"I don't know whether to be insulted or flattered. And I think the problem is I have really fantastic bad ideas." He smirked and shook his head in disbelief.

"At least you own up to it," He teased. You grinned, unable to help yourself from staring at him. Though you were on a mission, he seemed so relaxed. This was definitely his element. "You're staring, my dear."

“You are very attractive. Therefore I will stare at you," You admitted. He blushed brightly and looked away but then his eyes lit up.

"I've got it!" He stepped back and led you off the dance floor towards the open bar. "Follow my lead," He hissed. "Would you get me a drink, sweet? You know what I like," He said, somewhat loudly.

"Of course, darling," You replied. When you returned with your drinks you noticed Loki was staring at a group of young women. They had noticed him too and were smiling back at him. "What are you looking at?" You asked innocently, handing him his glass.

"Oh nothing," He replied quickly, turning away. You made a point of following his previous line of sight and made eye-contact with the still giggling females.

"Nothing?" You yelled. "You call that nothing? You were flirting again! Staring at some other woman!"

"I find them very attractive. Therefore I will stare at them," He replied. You held back a laugh, realizing what gave him the idea. "You know how I am," He purred, trying to move closer to you again.

"Get away from me!" You yelled, stepping back and throwing your glass on the floor. This drew everyone's attention. "You disgust me, Hank. This was your last chance and you botched it up! I'm going home!" You turned on your heel and stormed out.

"Audrey! Audrey! Please wait!" He called out. He ran after you into the grand hallway where you were pretending to be searching for your keys. You both noticed the small collection of men, including Mr. Thatcher, who were watching you from the ballroom doors. "Please, darling, can't we discuss this?"

"At home," You finally said. He nodded and held the front door for you. You both stepped outside, out of view, and then you activated the ring. It felt weird, time slowing around you, but you moved past your surprise and got to work. You ran back into the ballroom and very carefully chipped a very important supporting piece of one of the ice sculptures on the table. Giving it a small tap, you then ran back out to the main entrance and positioned yourself just outside the doors where you could still have a view of the main hallway. You deactivated the ring and heard the crash of the ice. Immediately, the men looking into the hallway ran back in, leaving the hallway unwatched. You and Loki were now free to sneak back into the mansion.

"The vault is downstairs but only accessed here," Loki murmured, leading you to a hidden staircase.

"Typical," You chucked, only mildly surprised by the motif. When you got down there, you noticed there were three levels of security. A key, a fingerprint scanner, and a retinal scanner. "Oh great! How are we supposed to get through that?"

"Never fear, my darling," Loki replied with a smirk. "Remember why they chose me?" He then changed, taking on the appearance of the party's host, Mr. Thatcher. He quickly got past the fingerprint and retinal scan but the key was still needed. Changing back to himself, he said, "The guards have keys."

"There are guards down here?" You whisper-yelled. Loki rolled his eyes frustratedly but before he could reply you heard footsteps coming down the hall.

"Follow my lead!" Loki demanded.

"Wha-" Loki interrupted you with a kiss and pushed you against the wall. You gasped in surprise but you had to admit to yourself he was talented.

"What are you doing down here?" The guard exclaimed. Loki slowly pulled away from you with the guiltiest expression on his face. You knew it was fake of course, but the guard was tricked.

"Were we not to be here?" He asked, voice slightly higher than usual. "We were only trying to find a-" He paused, smirking slightly. "A more private location." The guard shook his head and chuckled.

"Whatever floats your boat, man," He replied. "But I would suggest exploring the upstairs bedrooms." He gave them both a little wave and headed back around the corner.

"I’m going to strangle you," You said as soon as the guard was out of earshot.

"Oh please! You can’t even reach my neck," Loki replied. You grabbed his tie and pulled him down, pretending to be moving for another kiss. However, you tapped his neck lightly and smirked.

"Gotcha!" You giggled quietly and then held out your hand. "Oh! And look what I got!" She held up the key ring for the door. "While you were busy embarrassing yourself, I used my telekinesis and got the key!"

"Of course you did! That was my plan all along," Loki replied.

"Pretending to love you is like a walk in the park. Jurassic Park," You grumbled. Loki grabbed your sides and growled in your ear as you opened the vault door. "You're so weird!" You hissed, walking in and trying to find the ring.

"And you’re so weird it’s attractive," He retorted, finding the box immediately and tossing it to you.

"Well, if I’m weird with you, I’m comfortable," You admitted. Loki looked at you in surprise but you just shrugged. "Look, you really piss me off sometimes, but," you paused. "Somehow I still like you."

"And I you, my dear," He replied. "Now as much as I would love to continue this discussion I do suggest you figure out how to use that thing and we get out of here!" You put on the ring, trying it on a few different fingers before you found the correct one.

"Ok, let's see what it does." When you activated it, it shot a cold blast at the shelf in front of you, encasing it in ice. "Cool!" You joked. Loki shook his head and grabbed your arm, trying to hurry out. Just as you got to the top of the stairs, you heard footsteps.

"Well well well," Mr. Thatcher growled, blocking your exit. A few of his goons stood behind him as well. "Mr. & Mrs. Williams was it? I don't think so," he sneered.

"Well, I don't think so either but we're not doing this today!" You shot them all with the ice and Loki shoved them out of the way. You both heard more footsteps down the hallway and looked at each other nervously. "Do you trust me?" You asked. Loki nodded.

"With my life." You gave him a tight smile and activated the Spin ring. You ran down the hallway and found where the other goons were at. You tried to use the Zero ring, with the ice powers, but found yourself unable to control it's aim.

"Well that's fantastic," you grianed. Rethinking your plan, you went back to get Loki. There was no way you'd both be able to get out of there at normal speed so you had one option. Lug Loki out yourself at super-speed.

"What the heck? Do you weigh 500 pounds or something?" You groaned when you couldn't pull or carry him. "Ok, last option. I hope this works," You muttered. You focused almost all your energy on moving Loki using your telekinesis. It was slow going, but at super-speed, you still would beat the bad guys. By the time you got him out the door to safety, you were exhausted. You immediately disengaged the ring and he looked around confused.

"How did I get here?"

"Talk later, run now," You gasped, trying to stop the dizziness that had overtaken you.

"Are you alright?" He asked worriedly. You were about to reply when you collapsed, simply too drained to continue.

When you woke up, you felt a cool cloth on your forehead and soft blankets around you. "Where am I?" You groaned.

"I brought you back to the tower. I told the Captain his debriefing could wait," Loki replied. You sat up slowly and looked around. Raising an eyebrow, you stared at Loki questioningly. "Yes, this is my room. I wanted to keep an eye on you while you recovered. I informed the Captain that those rings are very dangerous and should not be used. They obviously were too much for you to handle and-"

"It wasn't the rings," You interrupted. You looked away, somewhat embarrassed. "Well, I was still in super-speed, but I used my telekinesis to get you out. We probably would have been shot otherwise. It used a lot of my energy but it was worth it."

"Oh darling," Loki sighed, gently pushing a stand of hair off your face. "You-" He leaned forward, giving you a quick kiss on your forehead. "You're amazing. I never expected you or anyone to care so much for me!"

"Of course I care!" You replied. "Look, you still drive me insane with some of your tricks. But you're a good guy," You smiled.

"And you're a wonderful woman," He said. You grinned at him happily, still tired but already feeling much better. "So what do you think, should we give us a try?"

"Why not? It may be the first really fantastic bad idea of mine that works out!" Loki smiled and gave you a kiss. You sighed contentedly and leaned on his shoulder when you pulled away.

"Oh darling? One more thing. It was my idea."

Loki Taglist

@lucywrites02

@delightfulheartdream

@serpentargo

@khena

@nyx2021

@kaz11283

@weasley-main-lover

@up-to-mischief

@lokislittlesigyn

@darkacademicfrom2021

Marvel (all characters) Taglist

@bartv21

@another-crazy-fangirl

@whatafuckingdumbass

@ladylulu143

#loki #loki x reader #loki oneshot #loki imagine #loki fanfic #mcu fic #marvel #avengers #tom hiddleston #at first I was perpetually bothered by your mere existence #but somewhere along the way you became my best friend #and oh yeah I’m also in love with you #this trope brought to you by a recent post i saw #and i added those tags #🤣

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shemarmooresfedora · 4 years ago

Text

Sugary Sweet Apologies

Summary: You and Reid never really got along but when he saves your life, you decide to be the bigger person and thank him and hopefully start over. Unfortunately, it isn’t that easy.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content/Warnings: light to mild angst with fluffy ending, swearing, spencer reid being an annoying bitch, brief mentions of case stuff (if you watch cm, you should be fine)

A/N: this is for @willowrose99 ‘s 1 year anniversary on tumblr writing challenge!! congrats! i literally wrote and edited this whole thing in less than one day because i got so excited, anyways i hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 1.8k

“Reid and Y/L/N, go to David Whitney’s house. He was the therapist of two of the three victims. He could have some insight into the victimology and know of any overlap between them. He has no criminal record of past aggressive behavior but we can’t rule him out as a suspect entirely,” Hotch stated.

“Hotch, you stuck me with her yesterday for the geographical profiling. Send Prentiss with her instead,” Spencer whined.

“I don’t mind going with Y/L/N. She is a great partner in the field,” Emily glared at Spencer.

“No. Reid, go with Y/L/N or be taken off this case. I’m a unit chief, not an elementary school teacher. I don’t have time for temper tantrums,” Hotch chided.

“Fine,” Spencer grumbled as you grabbed the keys to an SUV.

You don’t know what it was but ever since you started at the BAU four months ago, Spencer had never liked you which resulted in you disliking him as well. Everyone else on the team was super friendly and welcoming but Reid always was jabbing snarky remarks your way like “I don’t have time to explain it to you” or “This was in the FBI handbook. God, you need more training.”

Luckily, the others were quick to defend you. Once Garcia even heard him snip at you over the phone and as soon as you all got off the elevator after the case, Reid was being dragged by his ear into Garcia’s lair with him going “ow ow ow” behind her. So, you didn’t really pay much mind to him because you could deal with one annoying know-it-all to have such an amazing job with great coworkers minus the one.

“Look, I’m not happy about this either,” you said as you climbed into the driver’s side of the SUV, “But at least I’m not being a whiny bitch about it and being rude to the other person’s face.”

“Oh wow, I’m so sorry that I hurt your feelings,” Spencer mocked.

“Fuck you, Reid,” you shook your head.

David Whitney was on edge the second you arrived and showed him your badges. He was bouncing his leg up and down, he couldn’t sit still, and he kept avoiding eye contact.

He knew way too much about the other victim that wasn’t even one of his clients but you didn’t have anything solid on him. His house seemed very neat so you doubted he kept anything incriminating here. Organized offenders usually have a secondary location. So, you decided to push his buttons a little.

“I mean blitz attacks, leaving the bodies on the side of dirt roads,” you combed through the crime scene photos, “This guy was a real coward.”

Spencer picked up on what you were trying to do and his eyes widened, he was subtly shaking his head and mouthing “no”.

“Excuse me?” David asked.

“Well, I’m just saying a real man wouldn’t cower in the bushes and blindside a woman. He must not be very strong,” you stated, “He probably can’t even get it up.”

Before you even had time to react, David pulled out a switchblade knife from inside the couch cushions and put you in a chokehold, pressing the cool metal up to your throat. You closed your eyes tightly.

“David, you don’t have to do this,” Spencer stood with his gun pointed at you both.

“This bitch insulted me,” he snarled.

“She insults me too. That doesn’t make you any less of a man,” Spencer spoke carefully, “Just put the knife down and I’ll escort you out.”

David sighed, dropping the knife to the floor and releasing you.

Spencer put David in handcuffs and walked him outside as reinforcements came running in.

“Are you okay, Y/L/N?” Hotch asked.

“Yep, a little shaken up but fine. Thank you,” you stood.

“Let’s get you to the medics,” Morgan grabbed your arm to support you as you walked over to the ambulance.

Spencer never checked on you.

You knew your decision in the field was a little rash and you wanted to thank Spencer for essentially saving your life.

However, there was no way in hell you could verbally get out an apology while staring at his smug face, but you could bake. You settled on a note tucked inside a tupperware container of your Grandma’s special recipe of chocolate chip cookies. It was a good peace offering, maybe even a chance to start fresh.

During your lunch break, you took the tupperware from your desk drawer and approached the break room where Reid had entered about 5 minutes ago.

“I’m just saying I could not have been more clear in my message to her that it was too dangerous but of course, Y/L/N didn’t listen cause Y/L/N is going to do whatever she feels like,” Spencer stirred his coffee.

No one had noticed you standing in the doorway yet.

“Reid, you’ve got to be nicer to her. She earned her spot here just like the rest of us,” Emily defended you.

“Did she though? How much do we really know about her? She couldn’t even tell me how many pages the FBI protocol manual was,” Spencer said.

“That’s not a normal thing people know,” Morgan retorted.

“Well, I’m just saying the team was perfectly fine before her and it would probably be better off if she left,” Reid finished.

Garcia looked up from her yogurt to see you standing there, “Oh, Y/N”.

Spencer turned around in his chair as you angrily stormed up to him.

“Here’s your cookies, asshole,” you seethed, grabbing the note from inside and crumpling it up into a little ball and tossing it into the trash.

“Y/N!” Emily called after you but you were already gone.

The whole team glared at Spencer and picked up their lunches, leaving him alone at the table.

Spencer retrieved the balled up paper from the trash, having to fish through Rossi’s week old pasta and Anderson’s half eaten tuna fish sandwich.

Dear Reid,

Thank you for saving my life, I guess. These are my Grandma’s secret recipe for chocolate chip cookies so I hope you enjoy. I think we got off on the wrong foot and I would like to start over. I think cases would be a lot less miserable for everyone if we got along.

Thanks again,

Y/L/N

Spencer, you’re such an idiot, he thought to himself.

You never came back after your lunch break ended and Derek made Spencer go tell Hotch why it’s his fault you were missing the rest of the day.

He tried to call you multiple times but they always rang out before going to voicemail.

Spencer hesitantly knocked on Penelope’s door at the end of the day.

“Is she okay?” he asked softly.

“You don’t get to ask that as the person who hurt her in the first place. Also, she told me to tell you that don’t you dare go to her apartment to ‘check on her’. I’m headed over there myself actually,” Penelope collected her things and shut off her monitors.

“Will you at least tell her I’m really sorry?” Spencer followed her to the elevator.

“Absolutely not. I’m not doing any apologizing on your behalf,” Penelope huffed as the elevators shut.

You came in the next morning, keeping your head down. You grabbed a pen from your cup holder and the first folder on your stack before getting to work.

You were on the second page of the file when your clean, empty tupperware was placed in front of you plus another baking dish with aluminum foil over the top.

You glanced up to see Spencer guiltily looking down at you and you returned your eyes back to the file.

“I-I made you cinnamon rolls,” Spencer broke the silence.

“Are they poisoned?” you asked, not sparing him another glance.

“No, they’re not poisoned,” he assured you.

“I’m just saying how can I trust you as you have made it very apparent you would like me off this team.”

“I didn’t mean that,” Spencer was quick to reply.

“Then why the hell did you say it, Reid?” you slammed your pen down.

You grabbed your empty coffee mug and briskly walked to the break room but unfortunately, Spencer was right behind you.

“I didn’t eat any of your cookies by the way. Not that I didn’t want to but I felt like I didn’t deserve them so I handed them out to everyone else.”

“Oh how kind, taking credit for my work,” you tried to close the door in his face.

“I told them that they were from you,” Spencer insisted.

You rolled your eyes as Spencer grabbed the coffee pot before you could get to it, pouring your mug of coffee for you.

“What do you want from me, Reid?” you asked defeatedly.

“I want you to try a cinnamon roll and let me explain.”

“Fine but only because I didn’t have breakfast yet and I want to critique your baking skills,” you huffed, walking back to your desk.

Spencer gingerly placed one of the sticky frosting-coated rolls on a napkin and pushed it towards you. You tentatively bit into it. Damn it, it was actually delicious.

“It’s okay,” you understated.

You knew Spencer hardly ever used his kitchen let alone be up baking all night. He even chose a recipe that required more time and effort because the yeast dough would have to rise for a few hours.

“That’s good. The first batch didn’t come out as great...or the second,” he smiled softly.

“Well, the floor is all yours, Reid. Please explain to me why you talk shit about me to my co-workers when I’m in the other room,” you leaned back in your chair and crossed your arms.

Spencer muttered something incoherent.

“I have to hear the apology, you know,” you said, enjoying watching him uncomfortable.

“You’re intimidating to me because you’re intelligent, beautiful, and courageous. I think I was a little jealous that my spotlight as the ‘kid�� of the BAU was coming to an end so I said some harsh, completely untrue things and I’m sincerely sorry.”

“Oh my god,” you smirked, “Hotch was right, you are an elementary school kid.”

“In what way?” he curiously asked.

“You like me like like like me. You don’t know how to talk to the girl so you pull her pigtails on the playground,” you giggled.

“I take it back. You’re a horrible profiler,” Spencer was getting up from his seat, completely flustered.

“Awww,” you were laughing at Spencer’s bright red face as he went to go to the break room to fill his coffee mug.

When he got back to his desk, a sticky note was placed front and center.

In typical elementary school fashion…

Will you go get coffee with me?

Check:

Yes

Spencer smiled before picking up his pen and checking one of the boxes, crumpling the sticky note up into a ball and throwing it over to your desk.

“Good choice. See you Saturday at 9 at the cafe down the street,” you grinned.

“It’s a date,” he smiled.

#willsannievent #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer x reader #reid x reader #spencer reid #cm fanfic #criminal minds

688 notes · View notes

yoonia · 4 years ago

Text

About Time // Part 20.5

➬ Character | Jungkook x reader / Jimin x reader (feat. BTS)

↳ Type/Genre/words | Angst, Fluff, Alternate Universe (Time Travel!au/Time Leap!au, Soulmate!au), Eventual Smut / 9,2k words

↳ Prompts | “What if you find your soulmate… at the wrong time?” - Lauren Kate, Passion

↳ Summary | Be careful for what you wish for, because you may never know how to deal with them once it comes true. What would you do when your wish for a second chance actually came true? But was it really a fulfilled wish? Too many questions lie when it actually happened. Were they real memories? Or perhaps a part of a past life? Was it only a dream all along? Will everything be different this time?

↳ Ratings | Mature/+18 and up

↳ Warnings | LGBT+ conversations, mentions of fighting and alcohol consumption

↳ ⤎ Previous Chapter | Series Index: About Time | Next Chapter ⇢

(Taehyung’s POV)

Song Companion: Teflon Sega - No Turning Back

—First life, year 2005—

My parents loved to take me on car rides ever since I was a little boy.

They had always said it was one of the easiest ways they had found that could calm me down from what they called as ‘one of my moods’—whatever that meant.

In a way, car rides had always felt comforting. It was better to be stuck in a car instead of staying at home, where it felt stuffy and lonely, even if my parents would only drive around the neighbourhood instead of taking me anywhere far. It was still better because looking out the car window allowed me to see everything—the trees we passed by, the land around us and the mountains in the distance—and they were all still better to look at compared to the sight that I could see out my bedroom window. Nothing but the neighbours’ rusty walls and the empty lot behind our house that neighbourhood kids would use to hangout at. Sometimes, my parents would even drive all the way to the next town. Or even further to the next, in which we would stay a bit longer at instead of heading back to where we had taken off from earlier that same morning.

It wasn’t until when I was a bit older when I finally understood what it had truly meant to be driving so far and why my parents would pack up various boxes when we were off to travel somewhere. That sometimes when my father said, “Let’s go for a drive,” it would not always mean that he was talking about driving around the neighbourhood to go sightseeing.

Sometimes, I would pay enough attention to notice when we were not going to return to the same home once the drive ended. Just like how this car ride had felt different compared to the last times I sat there in the backseat of my Dad’s car.

Looking out the window, I immediately knew that this was not one of those rides where my father would be driving me around the block or down to the rice fields and farmlands around where we lived at the time. I already knew which kind of drive this was when it had included my Mom packing most of our things into the car and when I could see the moving truck following us close behind when I looked over the rear window.

It had been a while since we had gotten on a long trip that I thought we would never be taking off again. We had left before the sunrise, and hours had passed but we were still going, passing the villages and small towns, then the long highway. We only stopped a few times to eat and to use the bathroom. Sometimes I would fall asleep and wake up at a new place, but it seemed like we would be on the road for a long time.

I kept my eyes out on the road with my head pressed against the car window, watching the trees flashing by, the old houses and the stores turning into hills before we were passing through more buildings. Then I must have dozed off a bit longer at some point because it was almost dark when we finally stopped.

Really stopped.

I jumped on my seat when the sound of the car doors opening and closing woke me up, then I looked around to see that my Dad had parked the car in front of a house.

“We’re here!” I heard my Mom said, opening the backseat’s door to get me. “Come on, Tae. Let’s take a look at the new house.”

I was still feeling sleepy when I finally stepped out of the car. My legs were heavy and my back was hurting, but I followed my Mom as she walked around the car, rubbing my eyes all the way down from the car. I stopped before we could step onto the porch, looking at the house that looked old, but a lot bigger than the one we used to live in. The walls were made of red bricks, and we had a front yard too with green grass on it, unlike the dry patches we had at the old house.

“Taehyung, come in. Let me show you your new room,” I heard my Mom calling me from the front door. I took one last look at the house before I ran to her, excited and scared at the same time as I walked up the porch and followed her into the house.

Our new home.

“Where are we going?”

“We’re going on a playdate.”

We had been in this new town for a week. My Dad had been busy with his new job, but both me and my Mom had been staying home, unpacking all the boxes and cleaning up the new house. The only times I had seen my Mom not doing anything at the house was when a few neighbours came to visit or when she went out to do some groceries. This was the first time she finally took me out. Her hand was holding mine as we walked side by side on the sidewalk, heading somewhere at the end of the street.

“A what?”

“A playdate.”

“What’s that?”

My Mom reached out to brush my hair with her fingers while she kept the other hand still holding mine. Both of us knew that whatever she did on my hair wouldn’t help much and I would probably get them all messy again in a minute, but maybe she needed to keep herself busy because she seemed more nervous than I was and maybe she figured she could try to keep my hair look tidy and decent before we got to where she wanted us to go to.

“It means you get to play with a new friend while I get to know our new neighbours,” she said, looking almost distractedly when she spoke. I looked up and that was when I confirmed how nervous she was. Back at our old home, we rarely became friends with the neighbours living close by. Most of the people we knew were older people, and some of my Mom’s friends lived a bit far from home, making it hard for her to see them regularly. “You’re going to start school in a week, and yesterday, Mrs Jung from down the street told me that her children are going to the same school as you are. She invited us to visit so that you can get to know them and make friends with them so you can have someone to play with.”

“I had friends,” I said, scrunching my nose. It made my Mom stop, and she kneeled down next to me with a rueful smile.

“I know, honey,” she said, sighing, once again reaching up to brush my hair back again after a breeze made a few strands fall over my face. “I know that it sucks to move away again, but I promise you, you can have many new friends and a lot of fun. Just like how we used to.”

Mom gave me another smile before she stood back up, already continuing the walk. I said nothing as I walked with her, not even to explain that it wasn’t just about making new friends that I was worried about. “Why did we move here?”

“We told you. Your Dad got a new job here,” she said to me while glancing sideways at me.

“What’s wrong with the old one?”

This time, my Mom laughed a little. “Nothing wrong with that one,” she sneered, sighing the same way she would when she was trying not to get angry. I remembered how she kept telling my Dad how much she hated his old job. Because he went away a lot and he was always tired and cranky whenever he came home from work. “Your Dad got himself a better job in this town and there was no way we could have stayed in that old town we lived in. He won’t be away too much now like he did when he was working in that factory since he’s going to be sitting behind the desk more. Our house is also bigger, isn’t it? And the school is going to be better.”

My Mom was getting more excited the more she spoke, and all I did was give her a nod. “Okay.”

Soon, we were standing on the front porch of a house that looked a bit similar to our new house. Except that the front yard had more bushes and flowers and the grass was trimmed and looked fresh, unlike the ones we had in ours, and the walls were painted white. The door was opened only a few minutes after my Mom rang the bell and a woman appeared to welcome us. She looked about the same age as Mom, with a wide smile that looked friendly and it made me feel less nervous about being here. They chatted for a moment before the woman turned to me.

“And this must be Taehyung. Oh, it looks like you’re about the same age as my kids. I heard that you’re going to be at the same school with them, so I hope you kids can be good friends. My son is a bit older, but I think you can get along with him just fine. I know that boys can have a hard time getting along with girls, though I have no doubt that you can get along with my daughter. She’s always good at adjusting to new friends, even if she’s a bit younger. She skipped a year and got into school early because she got bored in kindergarten.”

We walked in with my Mom still holding my hand. I was not completely sure if she was doing that to stop me from running or if she was still nervous about being here. Meanwhile, Mrs Jung continued to talk about her children as she led us all the way to the back of the house.

“Here we are,” Mrs Jung said as we entered the dining room. There was a girl who looked a bit younger than me sitting at the dining table while drawing with crayons, and Mrs Jung immediately called for her attention. “Honey, come here. We have a new friend. Maybe you want to say hi and play with him for a while while I have a chat with Mrs Kim?”

The girl looked up to us and jumped out of her chair. She didn’t even seem nervous when she was walking over to us. I couldn’t remember having any girl as a friend in my old school. Most of them had always stayed away from the boys at school and I had no trouble doing the same. But when she came to me, she showed no sign of turning away or looking at me funny just like other girls did.

All she did was look at me with wide curious eyes, and it really felt like we had known each other already when she raised her hand to me. “Hi, my name is _________. What’s yours?”

School started a few months ago. Overall, I thought it was okay.

Everything was different compared to my old school. Just like everything else in this town compared to the small town we moved out from, the school was much bigger than the one I went to. Most of the students in my class had already formed their groups—another thing that the old school certainly did not have, because, with smaller classes, nobody had any problem getting close to each other. I still made a few friends, though. Not a lot, but it wasn’t like I really needed a lot of friends either.

It was lunchtime when I sat at the edge of the playground, eating the sandwich and handmade kimbab that my Mom made for me. I was glad not to be sitting alone, as I had my new friend sitting beside me. The playdate that my Mom took me to after we moved here had turned out to be a lot of fun. ________ was fun to play with and we would have continued playing on that first day we met if only my Mom didn’t come to call me in for dinner.

After that day, we had gone into a couple more playdates before school started. I was also introduced to her brother, Hoseok, and the three of us would play and hang out together whenever my Mom would take me to visit their house on the weekends. At school, _____ and I shared the same class, and although we didn’t sit together in class, we would always eat together at lunchtime.

“Why aren’t you playing with them?” she asked me while we were watching the boys from our class playing dodge ball in the playground.

I only shrugged after looking over to the field, watching them throwing the ball at each other. “I don’t play ball.”

She snickered. “Yeah, you do. You played ball with Hoseok last week,” she argued, her brows were pinched the same way she would when she grew curious or annoyed.

I scrunched my nose at her. “That’s different. That was football,” I told her, and she shrugged at me in return.

“Still a ball,” she sassed while rolling her eyes at me.

“Whatever,” I said. “Besides, I don’t really get along with the boys from our class.”

“So you’re more okay sitting with a girl,” she said, more like making a statement instead of questioning me.

“What’s wrong with that?”

She looked away for a moment. “I don’t know. The other boys seem to make it a big deal.”

“That’s silly,” I scoffed at her. I didn’t really care about what people think. It never mattered to me anyway because I didn’t even care about what they did around me either. And I never liked forcing myself to get along with people that didn’t like me. “Besides, I like you better.”

She suddenly laughed when she heard me. It was the kind of laugh that made her head fall back, which was actually pretty adorable. “I thought you like my brother a lot more.”

Grinning at her, I just shrugged and bit my sandwich. “So I like both you and Hoseok. Playing with you and your brother is more fun.”

“Right. Of course, it is,” she said, giggling while nudging at my side. “You’re okay if people think you’re weird for hanging out with me instead of the boys?”

“I don’t care,” I told her, shaking my head. “How about you?”

______ looked around before smiling at me and said, “Me neither.”

We continued to eat for a moment before I thought of something. “What if you’re my girlfriend?”

“What?”

I shrugged, but kept my eyes away from her. “Maybe if we become boyfriend and girlfriend it won’t look weird for us to sit together like this.”

She had her nose scrunched when I took a glance at her. “Kids don’t become boyfriends and girlfriends.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, they do. You just don’t know about it yet.”

She pinched her brows again, thinking seriously about it. “Is it because you’re older than everyone else in class?”

“What do you mean?”

“My Mom said that you were supposed to be one grade above me, not share the same class,” she said. Despite what she just told me, she just didn’t realise that she always sounded like an older girl when she spoke like that. “Is that why everyone looks at you weird sometimes?”

I didn’t say a thing. She was not wrong, though. With my parents moving so much and having to change schools each time it happened, it was hard for me to catch up with classes. After constantly going to new places, making new friends, new adjustments, then the last school I went to insisted that I stayed a year behind to catch up on what I had missed. “I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t really care,” I said. And I really didn’t. After a while, I had stopped caring about all the moving and what it did. But some kids always made it a big deal when this older kid joined their class in the middle of the term. Not at the previous school I went to, though. They seemed to think I was cool because I knew a lot more than they did.

“Do you care if I’m older?” I asked her.

I had expected her to at least consider her answer for a moment, but all she said was, “No, I like having older friends.” Then she scrunched her nose as if she had just realised something. “But not too old. Hoseok’s friends are weird.”

A bite of the sandwich almost got caught in my throat when I laughed. After swallowing it down with the cold juice I brought with me from home, I turned to her and grinned. “Fine, if you don’t want to be my girlfriend, then—” I cleared my throat and offered her my pinky finger. That was one of the things I learned from her since we became friends, and I figured it would be the best option to gain her approval when I made the offer, “How about best friends?”

Her smile grew. She seemed confused at first, but she managed to realise that I was serious and gave me her pinky to link it to mine. “The bestest friends!”

I snickered. “That’s not even a word!”

“It is now!”

—First life, year 2017—

There was something about being in the library that I enjoyed most.

The calm and serene air. The scent of books. Then there was some kind of warmth that I couldn’t find anywhere else whenever I was there.

It was fall, and the library had been pretty much packed with students that were trying to catch up with readings and assignments as the midterm was coming closer. Sitting among the students, I had chosen a reading booth on the far corner of the library, and I had my best friend, _______, sitting with me. She wasn’t too big on libraries. She never even truly cared about studying either. But after wasting her freshman year partying and enjoying life on campus, and then getting too focused on her relationship with the prick from one of the campus’ frat house all through sophomore year, she needed to catch up a lot on her studying and I was the one responsible in making sure that she did.

But that day, our agenda was not only about getting her to finish reading her textbooks or finding the materials needed for our midterms.

That day, we were scouting.

“That’s him,” I pointed out across the room just as he passed by, and _____ perked up, her gaze following the direction where I was pointing at until she saw him. I only knew she did when her eyes grow wide with a hint of amusement and appreciation. He really did have that kind of effect on people, whether it was male or female. “His name is Kim Namjoon. A senior of mine on my social study class,” I explained to her, mentioning the class I had taken last semester for my minor.

“Wow—you do have a taste there. He’s hot,” she said as she leaned closer, whispering to me while giving him another look. “—and a bit too handsome as someone who is going to be cutting through people’s brains,” she also added.

I snickered. “Yeah, right,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I thought you like pretty boys better.” I said that because compared to the guy she was dating, Namjoon was the complete opposite. Jungkook was good looking, hence the popularity he had gained all through college. With the kind of smile that girls found cute and a pair of doe eyes that would always make it hard for my best friend to say no to. But Namjoon was tall, with broad shoulders and nice-looking hair. His sharp gaze showed just how smart he was and there was this confidence that he had that could make people look up to him in awe.

The same way I did ever since the first day I met him.

He didn’t seem to work out a lot, but his arms still looked like a tight fit beneath the sleeves of his sweater. And then there were those dimples, that would always show up each time he smiled, making people swoon for him without him trying too much.

“I still have eyes and I can still admit it when I see a handsome man,” I heard her say, before she turned to me. Sure enough, she caught me just as I was looking at Namjoon, again, more appreciatively.

“What?” I looked at her with a frown when she seemed to be looking at me too closely. “Don’t look at me like that,” I whispered at her, but then I noticed the funny looking gleam in her eyes, as if she was seeing something intriguing while looking at me. And whatever she saw seemed to please her. “As a matter of fact, why are you looking at me like that?”

“I don’t know, I just—” She shrugged. “I’m happy whenever you are happy, Taehyung.”

Narrowing my eyes on her, I studied her face, trying to understand just where this was leading to. My suspicion was answered when I saw a hint of guilt in her eyes in place of the curiosity and mischief that she had earlier. “You’re still thinking about my stupid confession, are you?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s not stupid. It never was and it never is.”

“It was childish.”

“There is nothing childish with love.”

I scoffed. “It would be when I was a 10-year-old thinking that I was falling in love with my best friend,” I told her, lowering my voice and making a sneer as I said this.

Many years ago, when I was only a 10-year-old boy trying to adjust to a new life in the big town and getting into a new school, I had jokingly asked her to be my girlfriend and she had told me no. But then we got even closer after we decided to be best friends and spent more time together, and I started to feel things. All fuzzy feelings that I had seen in the movies or TV shows as something that was called a crush, or perhaps love, where I would feel all tingly inside whenever she was near. So I asked her to be my girlfriend. Again. And then again. Having my request rejected each time because she only wanted to be my friend and she hated to think that she could lose her best friend if she should ever say yes.

That, and also because we were both kids who knew nothing about crushes and love and heartbreaks.

“Taehyung—”

Sighing dramatically, I placed a hand over my chest and acted like I was hurting and I told her, “It wasn’t your fault either that I got my heart broken so early in life. But I’ll never break my promise about staying with you as a friend and take care of you.”

My theatrics had her giggling, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I just hate that she would overthink things sometimes, even when she remembered that period in life. As if she was responsible for how I had turned out to be. It had taken her a little while to be able to cope with it. Not because she couldn’t accept me for who I was, but only because she had been terribly concerned about me after I had told her the truth.

“I know you won’t, and I promise to be in your life as your best friend for as long as you need me,” she told me, giving me a small smile which I returned with my own when I knew how true her words were. How she had proven it many times before, especially during the period of time I had needed her support the most.

I could easily recall how she had been by my side when I came out about my—’preferences’.

It all happened not too long before we graduated high school, and I was outed by force by someone who I had once grown close to, who I had trusted enough to confide in and let them know about my secrets. But then things fell south when it was clear that my ‘friend’ couldn’t stomach the idea that I was interested in both male and female, and that I had dated both all through high school. My best friend, ______, was the one who stood by me, to accept me for everything that I was and had fought together with me tooth and nail. She had opposed to the idea of me telling people about it openly, preferring that I would just stay silent until the rumours would fade so that the spotlight would not fall on me. But I could no longer hide who I was, and I had gained even more courage when Hoseok and his friends came to me with a promise to defend me if anyone would start messing with me the minute I came forward about it.

Both siblings had been my rocks, all solid and true, loyal to the core even when my own family had come close to disown me after I came to them with the truth.

Reaching over the table, she held my hands and gripped them tightly in hers. “And I’m glad you’re still here. And that you are willing enough to be so honest with me about you being—well, you. And that you are falling in love with Kim Namjoon.”

Pulling my hand from her, I rolled my eyes. “I’m not ’in love’ with him, it’s just—” I frowned, trying to figure out what I really felt. Aside from sharing a class, there was no secret that Namjoon had been terribly kind to me. He would come to talk to me after classes, and he had invited me for coffee a few times, though he had never made his intentions clear except that he wanted to get to know me better. I did feel something fuzzy in my belly when he talked to me, but I wasn’t sure if there was anything deep in what I felt for him aside from my admiration for an upperclassman and the fact that I enjoyed the attention he was giving me.

“—a crush, maybe. That’s all. And he’s nice to me.”

She raised her brows and gave me a knowing smile. “Oh, he’s ’nice’, hmm? Yeah, that’s always how it starts.”

I scoffed at her, knowing that it was also how her boyfriend managed to get under her skin. And, apparently, in a whole lot more as well, judging how crazy she was over him. But I was not about to talk about that prick. “Whatever, weirdo.”

After catching the sight of Namjoon walking out of the library with a wink at my way, we both fell into a long talk about things. We had been out of the loop with the party scene on campus, being all caught up in studying and all, but it didn’t stop us from hearing things through our classmates. Instead of comparing notes about our study session, we started comparing notes on the rumours that had been spreading around us. We were talking about her former flatmate who had begun dating a pre-med student, someone who was completely the opposite of the frat boys she had normally hung out and sometimes hooked up with, when I was reminded of something that I heard from one of her ex-flings.

“Oh, speaking about—” I lowered my voice and leaned closer, making sure that nobody would be able to listen in on us. “Have you heard the rumours that came from your boyfriend’s circle of friends?”

“What rumour?”

“A frat boy was caught kissing another dude. Nobody ever got to find out who he was or who the other boy was, since the witness only saw shadows kissing at the back of the frat house without seeing their faces. It happened in the middle of a party which they held so it could be anyone, and nobody has come clean about it yet.”

Judging by the way her lips were twitching downward, it was clear that she was not happy. And it was no doubt that she was pissed for the same reason that I was—that people were trying to prod into things that weren’t really their business. “But does it really matter who they were? They can’t exactly force someone to come out, right?”

I shrugged. “I guess not, but some people are curious, and you know about people on this campus, they all love to gossip.” Once again, her face pinched. Despite living in the flats off campus, she knew all too well about those lousy gossips. “I’m just thinking that if you or Jungkook ever find out—you guys won’t say a thing, right?”

She frowned at my request at first, but then her eyes softened. “Why would you be so worried about someone you barely know?” she asked me with the concerned tone that she always had when it came to me. “Besides, there’s nothing for you to worry about. Haven’t we both been keeping your secrets from everyone?”

“Well, yeah—that’s actually the only reason why I had to get along with him, remember?”

This time, my sneer drew a smile from her. “If he can understand your situation, wouldn’t he be more understanding when it comes to his friend?” she questioned me, though neither of us really had an answer to that question. Then, suddenly, as if she was seeing something on my face, she tilted her head and whispered, “You’re actually worried about them.”

Giving her a resigned sigh, I answered her with a nod. “I’ve been there, you know? Getting weird looks from people, girls having doubts about me actually being interested in them just because I’m also attracted to guys. I hate to imagine someone else going through something like I did. Especially if it’s someone from one of those houses, since most of them are famous for being around girls.” Looking down at my hands, I wasn’t sure if I should tell her about the things that I had been hearing. But I just couldn’t keep it to myself. “It’s just—some rumours said it was Min Yoongi with some junior TA in Music. He denied it, of course, so nobody knows.”

When I looked at her again, there was a concerned look in her eyes, something that was becoming more familiar in the years I had known her. “Do you know why I always get so worried about you?”

I had a feeling that I might know the answer to that. But I asked her anyway. “Why?”

“Because you have always had such a big heart. It might take a while for you to open up to other people, but the moment you let someone into your life, you always care for them a lot. Maybe too much. Hell, look at you worrying about some frat boy you barely know.” There was a fond smile on her face that I had no choice but to return with mine. I bit my tongue to stop myself from saying a thing and let her continue, and she took my hands in hers again. “I’m worried that someone might one day be using that kindness of yours and get you hurt. I’d really hate to see that.”

Little did she knew then, that I had been worried about the same thing for her. She had always been so fragile, so naive, and there was only one reason why I had never been able to get close to that boyfriend of hers. There was something about him that made it hard for me to trust him. Not with her heart. But I had kept it to myself, having no reason to actually point fingers. Yet. So I said nothing, and tried my best to reassure her that everything would be alright.

“I won’t worry about it, especially when I know you’ll have my back.”

She grinned. “You know I will.”

As we exchanged knowing gazes, I felt so sure that I would still have her by my side no matter what. Nothing could easily set us apart. Nothing could beat the years of friendship and trust that we had built.

At least, that was what I had truly believed.

But life had always been such a bitch. And nothing could stop it from derailing everything we had known and all that we had built together, leaving nothing behind but crumbles of dust.

—First life, year 2018—

My head was spinning. Worse yet, it felt like it was splitting in two.

Where was I? What the hell happened?”

I was pretty sure I blacked out. Or maybe I was in shock. It took a moment before everything began to clear up, though it didn’t actually make it okay when the pounding in my head stopped only to allow me to hear all the noises around me.

“Hey, buddy. Are you okay?” I felt someone gripping at my shoulder while I was stumbling out of the crowded room. I felt people’s eyes on me, but I ignored them all and turned to the person who was leading me out to a hallway right outside the room. That was when I turned and looked around, and everything sort of came back to me.

It was a frat party. I had heard that Sigma Phi was having this rave at their house and some people from my class had spotted Jungkook and his friends here. They had been sending me intel after I had spent the whole day searching for him after leaving ________’s flat.

After hearing how that bastard of a coward ran out of her place after finding out that she was pregnant.

And just like what my intel had informed me, he was hiding here with a fucking groupie who had been hanging out on Sigma to get lucky. Apparently, she lucked out to find that coward needing some distraction. But he wasn’t as lucky, as I found him easily, completely unguarded, and I managed to get a few hits to ruin his pretty face before he retaliated and knocked me on the head.

I flinched the moment I recalled the hit he gave me. It wasn’t hard, as he was pretty much drunk and my punches had probably left him disoriented, but he did put the blow at the right exact spot. And that spot was still pounding.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I grunted at my saviour. My fuzzy memory remembered his voice as the one who had stopped our fight and kicked Jungkook out of the house, and he had probably saved me from further humiliation by pulling me out of the dance floor.

“You need some ice on that. Come on, let me get you some,” he said, pulling my attention back to him just as all the party crowd went back to what they were doing before the interruption. Back to partying like drunken monkeys.

I was going to say no to his offer and leave. But it was obvious that he was not taking any kind of refusal for an answer when he simply turned away from me, already leading me towards the kitchen area at the back.

“Hey, Yoongi. Good to see you back. How was your trip?” Some guy greeted him as we passed a group of people coming down from upstairs. The man turned to me once Yoongi greeted him back with a low grunt, obviously not a man of many words. Just like what the rumours had said about him. The man who greeted Yoongi turned to me and frowned. “Damn, what happened to you?”

I winced when I reached up to touch my face, no doubt already bruising badly if everyone could already see it. “It’s nothing,” I said, and I thought I could see a bit of pity mixing with concern on Yoongi’s face when he turned to look at me.

“One of the bastards from Kappa Sigma hit him,” Yoongi explained, answering him for me. There was no doubt that he had witnessed everything that happened as he was the one who pulled us apart right after that bastard had put his fist on me, but I was glad that he wasn’t about to bring it up. Though knowing Jungkook’s reputation, pretty sure the rumours would start spreading in the morning. And I was quite sure that Jungkook must have been on his way back to her already, probably spitting out lies to protect himself. I really hoped that he would be grovelling on the ground she was standing on before she would take him back in her arms. Just the thought of them reconciling made me feel like there was a cold fist closing in around my heart. I hated knowing why he was here, hated that I had seen him and caught him red-handed. I wished I had beaten him up even worse, enough to stop him from running back to her, just like how he deserved it.

Just like how cowards like him deserved it.

“Don’t worry, man. I’m taking him back so I could put some ice on it,” I heard Yoongi’s voice talking to the other guy, snapping me back to present, and it was clear that I had missed out half of their conversation about my lousy fate. Only then did I realise that one of the girls from the group he was with was standing next to me, looking at the bruise curiously.

“Oh, you poor thing,” she said, holding back from touching my bruise and started rubbing her hand up and down my arm instead.

I forced a smile and held back another wince when the small gesture was enough to hurt. “Nothing a piece of ice couldn't fix. Though I’m sure that my pride took a lot more bruises from that,” I tried to joke, raising my hand that was clutching at my glasses, which had been broken no thanks to Jungkook’s fist. “And my glasses, apparently.”

I heard a few of the people from the group chuckling at my joke, while the girl began shaking her head while giving me a smile. I had heard things about the boys from Sigma Phi and nothing about them had ever been bad. Words spread around campus kept telling me that these boys were more decent than the boys from Jungkook’s house. Damn, even their groupies were decent girls. Just like the girl who was by my side, as I recognised her easily as someone who had frequented the library to study just as often as I usually would.

Unlike all those players in Kappa Sigma house who would rotate the girls they hooked up with according to months, sometimes weeks. Not to mention their fan club, the girls who spent nearly all their college years doing nothing but partying and hooking up with the popular kids on campus.

Why couldn’t she find someone from this house to fall for and date instead?

“Fuck, that’s messed up. Alright then, I’ll leave you to Yoongi’s capable hands. Hey, if you need a ride to the hospital or something to have some fixing, give me a holler, alright?” the guy whose name I couldn’t even remember offered me just when I was about to follow Yoongi, and all I could do was nod.

“Thanks, man,” I muttered, not sure if he could hear me through the loud music, but the girl did give me another smile and a peck on my cheek before she followed him out the back.

“Here you go,” Yoongi said to me as we sat around the kitchen counter, handing me a bag of ice that he pulled out of a beer cooler.

“Thanks,” I said, taking the bag from him and pressed it on my templed, immediately wincing at the pain. “Ow, fuck.”

He snorted at my reaction, though it didn’t exactly erase the concerned look in his eyes. “Take it easy.”

Sighing, I nodded my head stiffly and kept the ice pressed onto my face. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

He nodded and pursed his lips, looking thoughtful for a second before speaking, “You’re her friend, aren’t you? Jungkook’s girl?”

My jaw twitched. “Yeah. We’ve been friends since we were kids.”

He began shaking his head. “You know, even if I don’t know her that well. I wouldn’t have to be her childhood friend to lay one on Jungkook. I fucking hate cheaters,” he said, looking disgusted.

“Doesn’t seem like the others think the same way as you do.”

Yoongi looked down, releasing a sigh. “I really don’t understand these people. They’d rather cover up some fucker cheating behind their girls and do nothing to those who really need some real help.”

I wanted to say something about it, but I couldn’t. I wasn’t even his friend, anyway. So we only sat there in silence with the music from the party still banging in the background. He turned to grab a bottle of beer from the cooler, offering one to me, then we continued to sit there while drinking our beers in silence. The rumours that I had heard about him over the past year came back to me just as I looked at his resigned face, and the words were hanging right at the tip of my tongue. Though I wasn’t completely sure what I was going to say if I wanted to bring it up in our conversation.

Would it be proper for me to ask if those rumours were true? Only minutes after he helped me?

Just when I opened my mouth to try and speak, to talk about anything, just to break this awkwardness between us, he looked up over my shoulders and out the windows overlooking the front yard as something coming in front of the house caught his attention.

“Hey, you need a ride back or something? I’m heading out, so—”

I began considering it, not exactly sure if I was ready to part ways yet. But again, we were not friends. Just because he had saved me from being humiliated in the middle of a party and by giving me some ice, didn’t mean we became instant best friends either. “Uh, no. But thanks. I’ll find my own ride somehow.”

He nodded. “Right. Take care then.”

“You too.”

I watched him leave the room. My eyes couldn’t look away from his retreating back as he ran out of the house and off to the sidewalk, riding a black SUV that didn’t exactly fit the scene on campus. There was something inside me that kept nagging me about letting him go without saying a thing or asking for his number, but I was too tired, too sore, and completely pissed at how this night had turned out to care about making friends.

Tossing the bag of ice into the sink, I walked out of the house through the side porch where he had exited the house from earlier and pulled out my phone. My heart was beating like crazy when I dialled his number, but that immediately passed when I heard his voice from the other side of the phone call.

“Hello?”

I bit my lips. Something inside my gut was telling me that I might be doing something stupid. But right now, I really had nobody else to turn to. “Namjoon, hi. It’s me, Taehyung. I’m sorry for bothering you so late, but I think I’m going to need a ride home.”

“There’s nothing for you to apologise for. You know that I’m always here for you. I’ll be there in ten. Wait for me.”

—First life, year 2020—

How did it come to this?

Standing at the back of the seated guests while wearing a tight monkey suit, I looked around with a mixed feeling in my chest. I had thought that I wouldn’t feel much about being here, but there was a feeling of disdain as I stood there, taking in all these guests. For a wedding ceremony, there were not a lot of people who came in. Just close relatives and friends, perhaps. But even as I looked over to see her parents sitting close to my mine, reminding me how our lives had been connected for as long as we knew each other, I still felt like a complete stranger.

I had no idea how she managed to find me. After I left college early to join Namjoon’s charity mission, I never had any contact with her. The only people I had kept in touch with had been my parents, sometimes Hoseok, but I had convinced them not to tell her where I was as I moved around with Namjoon and his crew.

So when I came home to the lodge where Namjoon and I had been staying in during our trip to find him handing me the invitation, needless to say, I was completely floored. There was no reason for me to be here. I guess the only reason why I had flown across the world was only to make sure that this was really happening and not her playing a sick joke on me.

Everything around me had shown me that this was real. That she was actually getting married. And right there, standing at the end of the aisle was the man himself.

Jeon fucking Jungkook.

He was talking with his brother when I looked over at him. As if he could feel my gaze on him, he suddenly turned to see me. His eyes hardened when he recognised me, but he only nodded at me instead of looking at me with hostility before returning to his chat.

I looked away just as my Dad left his seat and walked towards me. Giving me a pat on my shoulder, he whispered to me, “Glad to see you make it here, Son.”

We chatted for a bit with him telling me that he was finally able to convince _______’s Dad to walk her down the aisle, and he left just as both her parents and mine moved towards the bride side of the seats in the front. While they were moving, stealing everyone’s attention, I slipped away towards the rooms hidden on the other side of the Wedding Hall to find the bride’s room.

It didn’t take much convincing on the bridesmaids standing guard at her door to let me in so I could see her, though it was clear to me that she had not been expecting to see me dropping by right before she was about to exchange vows.

“You came,” she said, completely stunned to see me standing there. Neither of us made a move to come closer or hug each other the way we used to, as I stood closer to the door with my hands tucked inside my pockets and her trembling hands clutching on her flower bouquet. I noticed her favourite flowers, white roses and daisies, looking just as bright and glorious as her white wedding dress looked.

When I looked at her again, there was sadness in her gaze, and a bit of hope. But I knew I crushed the latter when I said, “I only came because I had too many questions. And I suppose I needed to be here just to see that this is actually going down.”

She gave me a grim smile. “As you can see, this is happening. I’m getting married,” she said, and her voice cracked for a second before she cleared her throat to hide it. “So—what questions do you have?”

She looked up at me expectantly and all the questions that had been circling inside my head since the moment I held the invitation she sent me in my hands became all jumbled together. The only thing that came right out of my mouth was—

“Why?”

She blinked, clearly not expecting that. So I simply continued, “Why, after everything that he had put you through, would you still marry him?”

Her eyes softened, though there was a hint of doubt in them when she spoke. “He’s been with me the entire time. He has helped me heal and helped me with the grief of losing our—” She stopped before she could even try to say the word ’baby,’ obvious that she had yet to get over the grief of losing her pregnancy. The fact that she had not only forgiven him for causing the event but also for getting back together with him had been the reason why I left a couple of years ago.

I had no idea that she was still having trouble with it and that she was still grieving, all because I was not here for her. And apparently, he had been the one to fill that empty spot that I left behind on my departure.

“Why so soon? You still have yet to finish college, have you?” From the little communication I had kept with Hoseok since the day I left, I had known that she had been having trouble catching up with classes. The accident and the treatments that she had to go through made her fall back almost a year, and catching up must have been hard when most of her friends had excelled and when she was still haunted with everything that had happened, all the things she had lost, and the fact that she had to face all the people who knew about it.

Shaking her head, she began to admit the troubles she had been facing on campus, before letting me know that Jungkook had been going through the opposite. In his effort to show her that he was able to change, Jungkook had spent the past few years throwing himself into his study, making it possible for him to finish college early and for him to take a position in a company that belonged to one of his father’s business partner before he would take his place in his own family business like his brother did.

“He promised to take care of me,” she said after while smiling softly.

“And you still believe in him?”

She looked straight into my eyes and said, “I do. And he hasn’t failed me since to give me a reason not to believe in him.” I still had my doubts despite the way she seemed so sure about it, yet I said nothing, knowing that she would never listen to me anyway. Even if she would, it would only be much too late. Releasing a deep sigh, she repeated the same words she had given me then, “It’s not like it was an easy decision to make either, but—everyone deserves a second chance, Taehyung.”

’Not everyone,’ I wanted so badly to tell her, but I kept them to myself. Only because there was nothing good that could come out of it if I had said something to stop her. And judging by the looks of it, nothing could stop this from going on.

“And your parents? What did they have to say about this?”

“Obviously, neither my Dad nor Hoseok was happy about it,” she said dryly, and I remembered seeing her Dad fuming in his seat as he waited for the ceremony to begin, before my Dad seemed to be able to somehow change his mind. “But Mom had given me a chance to make the choice. Though I doubt that we’ll be invited home for the holidays as long as my Dad still refuses to give us his blessings. She could barely convince them to come. I think they only came today initially because she hasn’t been feeling well lately and both my Dad and my brother had been worried about letting her go out of the house on her own.”

I looked down and resisted the urge to shake my head. Now I understood why her parents had been sitting close to the exit, no doubt all because her Dad was so ready to walk out of the ceremony instead of staying to support her. And honestly, being away from her had yet to change what I had thought about Jungkook.

“He doesn’t deserve you.”

The words that I gave her the last time we met came back to me. I still had no regrets ever voicing my thoughts and opinions about Jungkook, but I regretted that she was too stubborn to even consider taking her time before she would give him another chance and open her arms to welcome him back. And now, she was marrying him, completely tying the knot to make it last even longer. Perhaps forever.

“Taehyung?”

As I looked at her again, there was an expectation in her gaze that pulled at my heart. It was then when I realised that sending me the invitation was her act of lending me an olive branch. To give us another chance in friendship and have me back in her life again.

The same way she gave a chance to Jungkook.

But it was too late. Looking at things now, it was obvious that we were no longer walking on the same path. We had parted ways on a crossroad years ago, choosing different directions which had led us to who we were today.

Before she could say anything, I took a few steps closer to her and kissed her on the forehead. The move must have surprised her because she stiffened at my touch for a moment before relaxing against me, though I gave her no chance to dwell on it when I whispered,

“Be happy.”

Without looking back at her, I quickly left the room, leaving her behind with her own thoughts. Less than fifteen minutes later, I was right back where I was standing earlier, right at the far back in the Wedding Hall, witnessing her moody father walking her down the aisle to where Jungkook was waiting for her. Both of them shared big smiles on their faces as they were joined together at the altar, though her eyes showed sadness when she glanced back at the guests to find me, knowing that it would be the last time she would ever see me.

I stood there in silence as the ceremony continued. As they held hands, staring into each other’s eyes as they exchanged vows to be together until death would do them part. It was like adding salt to my wounds, but it was enough to make me see the reality of our relationship, that I had been replaced.

“He promised to take care of me.”

And there was really no need for me to stay, whether to prove myself wrong and watch him actually make her happy or to witness her regretting her decisions when he would hurt her again one day the way he had the last time she gave him her trust.

The moment I heard her say, “I do,” I didn’t stay long enough to wait for the ceremony to end and turned away, making my way out of the Wedding Hall and out of her life, where I was no longer needed.

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