#department head. but. shift lead did not pick up shift lead’s phone. and there was a language barrier. and i don’t think the

[vexalia]

.

[justimajin]

The Profit & Love Statement » Pt. 12

↠ Pairing: Seokjin x Reader

↠ Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Angst

↳ 6.4k / Office AU (lowkey E2L vibes) 

↠ Summary: The workplace isn’t for everyone. It can be mundane and repetitive, with some describing it like a nuisance and others as a blessing. You’re the kind that leans more towards the latter and while it does make you an ideal candidate for many things, nothing could have prepared you for the whirlwind that is the new employee.

↠ Warnings: borderline fake dating au, so much bickering, a whole lot of confusion and chaos

↠ A/N: We've reached the half point for the series! From here on, things are going to move forward very fast.

↠ Next Update: Tuesday, September 19 (series masterpost here)

“Would you like some bags for your groceries?”

“Huh?” You whirl around to see the cashier has already scanned all of your belongings, gazing at you with expectant eyes. You immediately nod with a small smile, and she turns, taking out a handful of plastic bags before assisting you with bagging the items.

After wishing you a nice day, you collect the bags with one hand and check the time on your phone with the other, showcasing that it was around 7pm. 

Luckily with the looming threat of paying your rent resolved, things had finally started shifting to the brighter side for you. Your work life had been especially better, with Soyou noticing your efforts more than she ever did after you took on the role of training Seokjin. As a result, you felt like your spirits had been brought up and decided to head out for some groceries straight after work this Friday evening. 

You walk out of the store with a giant grin, heading over to the bus stop to get home. However, something catches your eye. 

There’s a young woman leaning down, a small bump on her stomach that she holds as she tries to pick up her fallen bags. Your eyes widen and you put your phone away, walking over in an instant.

Bending down, you retrieve the bags and hand them over to her. 

“Oh my god, thank you so much.” She latches onto your arm in pure relief, “I was okay in the store, but then the bags just slipped out of my hands and–“

Her breath hitches upon looking up. Your brows contort, eyes concentrating on her features. 

She blurts out a name in recognition.

“Y/N?” 

You blink, taken aback. “Do we know each other?”

“Y/N, right? Y/N L/N.” She points out, “You majored in business, back at East College?” 

Your eyes are as wide as ever, recognition hitting you like a truck. 

“Wait, Miyeon?” You whisper in astonishment, only to watch her eyes brighten. She propels herself forward, tackling you into a hug.

“Oh my god, it is you, Y/N!” Although you’re still suspended in shock, you raise your arms to hug her back, “It’s been so long! How have you been?!”

“I’ve been alright.” You chuckle underneath your breath. “I never thought I would run into you here.”

Miyeon lets go of you with a giggle and you warmly smile. 

All the memories were coming back piece by piece. You had met her back in your college days, having gone quickly from mere acquaintances to friends. However, as the handles of time progressed and you had gotten accepted into your internship, you had soon departed from college without another look back. 

But from the warm glow she emits, you can tell things haven’t changed much. “Were you planning to take the bus?” You wonder, still gripping onto her bags.

“Oh, no! I actually live nearby and wanted to go on a walk, but then I saw they had peaches on sale and couldn’t resist.” She lightly laughs and you grin.

“Which direction do you live in?” You ponder, “I can walk you back if you’d like.”

Her eyes brighten. “Of course, I’d love to catch up!” She points towards the pathway, “I live a couple of houses down from here.”

You grin. “Well then, lead the way.”

***

Trailing behind Miyeon, there’s two sets of bags within your hands – both your own and hers. Miyeon had continuously insisted that you’d let her hold something, but you simply waved it off and told her it was alright. You were keen on catching up with her, surprised to find out an interesting tidbit she reveals.

“You got married?” You ask, and she furiously nods, flashing the ring on her third finger.

“It was around roughly three years ago,” Her hands come around to rest on her belly, “And we’re expecting our first child in four months.”

“I’m so happy for you, Miyeon...” From her smile to the brightness in her eyes, you can tell she’s overfilled with joy. “Your husband is lucky to have you.” 

“Oh, please.” She waves off the compliment, fondly smiling. “He’s great and all, but sometimes his confidence and self-praises makes him so full of himself, you know?”

A laugh escapes her, “–but at times I feel like I’ve gotten lucky with him. He’s just so sweet and kind, Y/N.”

A smile tugs at the corner of your lips. “What about you? How have you been?”

“Oh, I got accepted into an internship right out of college and stayed there for a while.” Your irises shift, a lopsided smile on your lips. “Unfortunately right after, my parents got into an accident and passed away.”

Her eyes enlarge. “I-I’m so sorry to hear that.”

Your smile strains. “It was really difficult the first couple of months, but then I had bills and a younger sister to look after. Thankfully, I soon got my current job and I’ve been working there ever since.”

Now that you’re stating it out loud, it’s a little strange to hear how different your route was from Miyeon out of college. Both of you were the same age, and graduated around the same time, but instead of having life milestones like getting married or having a family on your checklist, you were occupied with simply surviving and ensuring that Yuna could be happy to your best ability.

You’re incredibly happy for her, but in a way, it feels like you’ve missed out. 

“I think it’s incredible you were able to stay strong during such hard times.” Your eyes snap over to her somber expression. “Where are you working now?”

“Oh, I–“ 

The words die in your throat. 

Your line-of-sight strays away, pupils rounding as they land on the humongous property in front of you.

The ‘house’ Miyeon indicated is actually an expansive mansion – with a handful of luxurious cars parked in the lengthened driveway, a tended to garden outside and a sidewalk littered with precious stones.

It has you gaping like a fish and Miyeon peers over at you. “Y/N?”

“Huh?” You snap out of your awe-filled daze, glancing at Miyeon who doesn’t even seem fazed from the place.

You point towards it with a shaky finger. “T-This is where you live?”

She warmly smiles, “Yeah, it is! Nice, isn’t it?”

Nice? More like it’s the most luxurious place you’ve ever seen and can afford to be near.

Before you can say anything else, Miyeon gestures to the bags in your hands. “Why don’t we head inside?”

You gulp, slowly nodding and following Miyeon meekly into the house.

The moment you step in, you’re struck with even more awe.

The ceiling is up high, a gorgeous silver chandelier hanging down from the spiralling staircase below it. From the bottom, you can see the multiple rooms the wooden doors lead into and the floor is spotless, appearing like it was made out of the finest of marble.

“Come on.” Miyeon gestures, and you trail behind her like a helpless puppy.

Surprisingly enough, the kitchen seems to be the only place that looks the most normal. It’s reminiscent of one you would have in your own home – a few countertops with a stove and a fridge tucked away in the corner. Miyeon heads straight for it, taking the bag filled with peaches and placing them inside.

She peeks out from the fridge as you cautiously slip into a chair next to the counter. “Oh, you never told me where you’ve been working!”

Realizing it’s when you stumbled on your words, you clear your throat and focus back in.

“I work at Kim Electronics.”

Miyeon pauses, closing the fridge door completely and staring at you with wide eyes.

A small smile tugs at her mouth as she repeats your words. “You…work at Kim Electronics?”

You hum, “You must have heard about it.”

Miyeon sheepishly chuckles, like she knew something you didn’t. “The same Kim Electronics who didn’t do so well on their last product and their CEO is planning to retire?”

“Uh, yeah…” You quirk your head to the side, knowing that only someone who kept on track with the company would only know those facts. “Do you work there?”

She shakes her head with a grin, letting you in on a certain tidbit that has the air leaving from your lungs, “No, but my husband is the son of the CEO.”

“Y-Your husband…?” 

“Yep.” She giggles, reaching out to clasp onto your hands. “Aw, this is wonderful Y/N! I can’t believe you’re working at the company now.”

“Y-Yeah…i-it’s great…” You stutter out.

Your mind is complete chaos, wracking around for any mention of your dear intern telling you he was married or was expecting a child. But then it occurs to you that aside from knowing who Seokjin’s father was, there was nothing surrounding his personal life that ever came into topic.

Miyeon grins at you and although you reciprocate her actions, but there’s only more and more questions blooming from you at the discovery.

You end up spending a couple of hours at Miyeon’s house, still having your mind spin around the revelation. However, when the sky turns dark outside and you realize how much time has passed, you decide it’s time that you head on home.

But the moment the door opens, there’s bullets of heavy rain splashing down. 

“Great…” You mumble, avertedly glancing around. Miyeon appears behind, wide eyes taking in the scenery. 

“That doesn’t look so good…” She whispers, turning to you. “Will you be okay?” 

“It’s fine, a little rain won’t hurt anyone.” You take a step out, holding an umbrella within your hand. The rain hits against it, splattering off. 

“See? It’s not so bad.” You take a step out, glancing at Miyeon. 

Thunder roars, electricity sparking through the clouds as the wind picks up. 

You immediately jolt, shoulders hitching up. 

Miyeon reaches out, tugging you back in with concern deep in her eyes. “Why don’t you just stay for the night? You don’t have work tomorrow, right?”

She was right – it was supposed to be your day off tomorrow and you were keen on taking some of the time to spend with Yuna, who you haven’t been able to see much of lately thanks to work.

Speaking of which, she’s the one factor that shifts your reasoning. “My sister is by herself at home…”

Miyeon’s eyes round. “Oh.”

Your pupils linger again outside. Truthfully, the weather was absolutely awful outside and there was no way you could go back in this weather to catch a bus. 

With a sigh, you turn to her. “Let me give her a call and see.”

Miyeon nods and heads back into the kitchen as you plant the phone against your cheek. Yuna picks up on the second ring and after you tell her about the situation, the first thing on your mind are her thoughts.

“It’s really bad out there.” You mention, “Would you be okay if I came back in the morning?” 

“I think I’ll be fine.” Yuna replies. 

You hum, glancing at another flash of lightning strikes through the sky. “Remember what I always tell you–“

“Keep the door locked and have dinner on time.” Yuna states. “I know already Y/N, don’t worry.”

You let out a relieved exhale with a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

Turning the phone off, you swivel around to see Miyeon curiously darting her eyes over.

You shrug, “Looks like I’m staying for the night.”

***

The heavy weather dwindles into the night and at one point the thunder pulls a flinch out of you. After having dinner together, Miyeon guides you towards one of the guest bedrooms that you gratefully take, but your eyes are substantially wider at seeing the room.

It’s about twice the size of the one you have at home, paired with wide windows whose length just showcase the ill weather outside. The bed looks like it can accommodate at least three people and is lined with fur pillows and draped with satin dark teal sheets.

She mentions that she can get someone to drop you off in the morning and after giving you some clothes for the night, you easily slip into bed and stare at the ceiling. Everything from the house down to the bedrooms feels incredibly foreign for you, like you weren’t meant to be here in the first place.

Thankfully those thoughts don’t dwell through the later parts of the night and within an hour, you find the stress slipping away and yourself relaxing.

Sunlight pours through the now clear clouds, seeping into the windows and reflecting onto the green sheets you’re wrapped up in. You stir when its rays meet your eyes, blinking a little confused only to see the shifted weather outside.

Sitting up, the sheets pool around you as you stretch your arms out. You slip out of the bed, finding a pair of slippers nearby. You suppose you shouldn’t idle around for long in the house, knowing that letting you stay over was enough generosity from Miyeon’s side.

You let out a low yawn, turning around to head towards the door. But that’s when you freeze mid-way, breath hitching and eyes increasing in size.

There’s a chair placed in the far corner of the room, right next to the door, and on that chair sits Seokjin.

Well, kind of. His head is leaned down and his eyes are screwed shut, making you realize that he must be asleep. But what you can’t understand is a) what on earth is he even doing in this room in the first place and b) how did he manage to just fall asleep on a chair?!

Shaking your head, you cautiously shift closer until you’re standing directly in front of him. Although his self-praises have a tendency of getting annoying eventually, your current view almost makes you understand why he does it so often. His features are both soft and yet sharp, making you almost chuckle that he really is handso–

“Take a picture, it might last longer.”

You jolt back, planting a hand against your heart as his eyes flutter open. There’s a hint of amusement in them, but it’s soon coupled with a glare being sent in your direction.

He smiles in a way that’s not at all sweet. “Mind telling me what you’re doing sleeping in my house?”

You wince at his question. “Right, you live here….”

Seokjin is still staring at you, waiting for some kind of explanation. “Well, I’m good friends with Miyeon and last night the weather was terrible, so she offered I’d stay the night and gave me the guest bedroom.”

You’re expecting him either not to believe you, or at least be suspicious of the situation, but surprisingly enough, his eyes soften.

“You’re the friend Miyeon was talking about?”

You nod, “We’ve known each other ever since college.”

He hums. “I didn’t realize you lived here until it was too late, and I didn’t want to miss the opportunity of catching up with her.” A low sarcastic chuckle leaves you. “Though, it was certainly interesting finding out she’s your wife now.”

Seokjin nearly chokes on air and you tilt your head, raising an eyebrow.

“Are you okay?”

“My what now?!” He nearly screams, his eyes wider than ever.

“Your wife!” You repeat, “You guys are married, right?”

“No!” He lets out an exasperated exhale, “You seriously thought I have a wife?!” 

“I also thought the kid in her stomach was yours too.” You chime in.

“Y/N!” He plants his hands against his face and paces around much to your confusion.

He swivels around, “I have an older brother!” 

You frown at that, the lightbulb in your head finally starting to flicker.

“You have a brother….” You whisper in realization, only for Seokjin to nod exaggeratedly, “How was I supposed to know that?! She literally said she was married to CEO Namjung’s son!” 

“The other son!! I’m not married to someone!” He pokes your shoulder, emphasizing his words, “I am single. SINGLE.”

You push his hand off, “Yeah, yeah, I can see why now.” 

He scoffs in offense and you shake your head, connecting all the dots.

“It was all just a misunderstanding….” You mutter thoughtfully, “I get that now. She’s not your wife.” 

“Thank you.” Seokjin softly replies, “Now that confusion has been cleared up, didn’t you need a ride home?”

Your eyes light up. “Oh yeah, I would really appreciate that.”

“Okay, get changed and I’ll grab my keys.” He walks closer to the door and your eyes widen, realizing that aside from the borrowed pj’s, you don’t have anything to brush your teeth or comb your hair with. 

“Wait, Seokjin–“ He turns around in time, but it’s too late when your foot snags against the thick carpet, sending you spiraling downwards.

Seokjin luckily reacts in time, catching you before you go face first onto the ground. But that’s when the door creaks open, a familiar face emerging.

“Hey Y/N! Are you awake ye– oh.”

Miyeon falters at the door, her wide eyes landing straight on you and Seokjin.

You immediately scamper away from him, raising your hands in defense.

“It’s not what it looks like!”

Seokjin pitches in, “She’s right! There’s no way she would have landed someone as handsome as me.”

You whip your head around. “Excuse me?!”

“Oh come on, you know it’s true.”

“Seokjin!”

“You two know each other…?” Miyeon crosses her arms, eyes still darting between you two.

“We worked together at the company.” Seokjin mentions. “She’s an employee I shadowed.”

Miyeon hums. “Right, we’re just coworkers. Nothing else.”

Seokjin nods in approval and you meet his gaze with a reassured smile. Miyeon is still standing in between the two of you, watching your interaction with suspicion glimmering in her eyes.

She straightens up. “I think I know what’s going on here.”

Your brows raise and in her most accusing tone ever, she says– “You two are in a secret relationship, aren’t you?!”

You stare at Miyeon in absolute horror and Seokjin chokes on air for the second time of the day.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to hide it.” Miyeon remarks. “All this time, I was wondering how you still managed to stay single, Y/N!” She adds with a giggle. “I can’t believe you managed to snag my brother-in-law!”

“Snag him?!” You point to the space between you and Seokjin. “There’s been a misunderstanding, we’re not–

But before you can spew out the undeniable truth, there’s an arm swinging around your shoulders.

“Ah, what can you do, Miyeon?” Seokjin dramatically announces, shaking his head with a sigh. “You’re right, we’ve been caught! How much longer could we have hidden it?”

You stare at Seokjin like he’s insinuating the worst possible thing ever and before you can drive a wedge in the conversation, Miyeon speaks up.

“I knew it! I’m so happy you two are together!!”

She chuckles and Seokjin looks at her warmly, while you’re simply sending daggers with your eyes in his direction.

“Well, I came here to check if you were awake yet but it seems you already are.” She smiles. “Why don’t you join us for breakfast and then you can head home?”

“Oh no, there’s no way I could possibly–“

“Hey, it’s no worries! Besides, wouldn’t you want to spend more time with your boyfriend?”

Your face immediately sours at that but Seokjin smiles brightly. “Of course she would love to! I’ll drop her home right afterwards.”

“Great!” She grins, “I’ll see you two soon downstairs, don’t take too long!”

Seokjin continues to smile as you scowl while she leaves, but the moment the door shuts, you spin around in frustration.

“What the heck?! We are not together.”

“Listen, I know.” He coaxes, surprisingly serious. “Miyeon must have just considered we were based off of what she saw, but this could actually work out.”

You raise a brow, “What do you mean?”

“Ever since my brother got married, everyone’s been waiting for me to show up one day with someone.” He explains, “That’s why I just quickly went along with it.”

“Okay….” You murmur, already aware of the tedious process thanks to Hoseok’s shared stories.

However, one question lingers in your mind. “But why do I need to pretend to be your girlfriend?”

He could have chosen anyone he wanted, why drag you into this? 

He shakes his head, like you weren’t properly understanding, “It’s because you can actually be really convincing as my–”

“What?”

Seokjin abruptly blinks, not realizing the words that were escaping him. “–Uh nothing, just pretend we’re together for a while and then you can go home. Sounds fair?”

You let out a sound of discontentment and Seokjin chuckles, peeking out the door. “Should I take that as a yes?”

“I don’t know… I’m not much of an actress.”

“Just pretend to be madly in love with me,” He gestures to himself, “Like are you seriously going to have any problems with that?”

“Oh my god.” You cover your mouth, trying to stifle down your laughter. “You can be so shameless sometimes.”

He winks in your direction. “Good to know that I’m boyfriend material.”

You playfully rolls your eyes and his brighten. “Okay, I’m going head back downstairs. I’ll see you soon.”

He closes the door behind him and you let out a deep sigh, reminiscing that getting back home was going to be a lot harder than you expected.

After freshening up a bit and changing back into your clothes, you start to feel better, especially when Seokjin managed to find an extra comb and toothpaste that you were extremely grateful to accept. Sending a quick text asking Yuna how she is, you head down the spiraling staircase, noticing loud noises coming from where the kitchen end is.

Upon entering, you notice there’s a set of chairs lined alongside one of the tables, with Miyeon sitting along one side across from a man and woman you don’t recognize.

Well, this is going to be awkward. 

Everyone’s heads turn and you raise your hand, waving in their direction. “Hello.”

The man turns his head first, appearing closer to your age and having the exact same eyes as Seokjin. The woman on the other side is older, but her features are nearly identical to his.

“Y/N!” Miyeon calls, snapping your daze and gesturing for you to come closer. “This is my husband and mother-in-law. They just got back this morning.”

“Oh.” You raise your brows, reaching your hand out politely. “It’s nice to mee–“

“Y/N!!” 

You frown at the voice, knowing who exactly it belonged to. Suddenly, there’s two arms wrapping around your form, encasing you into a back hug.

“Y/N! My darling!” Seokjin dramatically shouts. “We’ve been apart for far too long!!”

You whisper underneath your breath. “Seokjin, I swear to god–“

“Shh, acting 101. You have to make it believable.” He lets go of you and smiles brightly, but that’s when you notice the spatula in his hand.

You frown, “What are you doing?”

“Cooking, what else does it look like?”

Your eyes nearly bulge out. “You can cook?”

“Yeah, why?” He raises a brow, “Can’t you?”

There’s an awkward silence that lingers that Seokjin can’t quite place his finger on, but thankfully Miyeon comes over and joins the conversation with a smile.

“Y/N, you should come over and sit with us!”

“Sure.” You glance over at Seokjin, “I just need to talk to my…significant other…? For a minute.”

She nods and you’re impressed that you managed to somehow say it properly, but then Seokjin is sweeping you away into the kitchen.

Once you’re away from prying ears, you voice your thoughts. “You have to stop being so dramatic!”

“Dramatic?” He frowns, flipping something on the stove. “I’m just acting the way couples do!”

“Couples don’t act like that!” You falter, “Well, not the normal ones, at least.”

“How am I supposed to know?!”

“You should know! You–“ Your trail off at his words, “You’ve…never been in a relationship before….?”

He shakes his head, “Nope.” 

“Woah, really…?”

“Why are you surprised?”

“I don’t know, I just thought someone like you would be…”

“Is this your way of calling me handsome?”

“Oh my god, no!” You shake your head, “Just tone it down, will you?”

“Fine.” He mutters, eyes lighting up. “Oh, and just call me Jin. It’ll be better that way.”

You wrinkle your nose. “You make it sound like we’re so close.”

“What? Don’t you think you should at least try to be close to your fake boyfriend?” He whispers, shaking his head in grievance. “Wow, Y/N. I don’t know if I can even salvage this relationship any longer.”

You chuckle at that and he joins in with a smile, but then Miyeon’s voice pitches through. “I hear laughter~”

“Shoot, okay, I’m going back.” Seokjin nods in agreement and you head to the table everyone is at, getting yourself a seat.

From your corner of your eye, you can already see Miyeon grinning.

“So, you were training Jin, hmm?”

“Uh, yeah.” You nervously smile, “He’s actually been trained by a couple of employee’s before I became the sole person to do it.”

“Oh, so it was personal.”

The way she says it makes it sound like you and Seokjin fell in love with each other the moment you met, but in reality it consisted of a lot of pestering and running around on your part, and rigorous hard work from Seokjin’s end.

“Right…”

“How did the training go?” She wonders. “Did you find yourself liking him more?”

“It was okay…at first.” If you constitute him barely understanding anything and the fact that you couldn’t agree on anything. “But over time, our relationship developed for the good and I guess I would consider that we’re very close now.”

The negotiation arises in your mind, alongside times where you were genuinely so happy with his progress.

“Aw, that sounds so romantic!” Miyeon gushes and it takes every fiber of your being not to recoil at the statement.

“He didn’t give you too much trouble, did he?” The question comes from a voice on your left, noticing his mother staring at you curiously.

Your eyes widen, “O-Of course not! He was a very good worker!”

She warmly smiles, almost reminding you of Seokjin’s own smile, “That’s good to hear.”

“She’s asking because he’s worked at the company before,” His brother mentions, “It was through an internship a while ago, and he wasn’t accepted.”

Your brows contort in puzzlement, “Oh…”

“But it’s great to hear that he’s been doing well!” His brother’s eyes spark, “And that you’re together now too.”

“Yeah it is….” Although you’re cringing, you attempt to return his smile, a tad surprised by the news.

Seokjin suddenly emerges out from the kitchen with a tray in his hands, “Food’s ready!”

He begins to set down dishes and you rise from your seat, offering to help but he waves you off.

“You’re a guest. Sit down.” You frown at that and Miyeon giggles, causing you to quirk a brow at her.

Once there’s a plate full of food placed before you, you grab your fork and decide to take a bite of the noodles. In an instant, there’s a burst of flavours in your mouth and you nearly drop your utensils in surprise.

From the corner of your eye, Seokjin notices your reaction and has the smuggest smile you have ever seen on him.

With a cheeky tone, he asks for your opinion, “How is it?”

You clear your throat, “It’s alright.”

He grins, “Oh please, you loved it.”

“I guess…it’s not bad…”

“It’s not bad.” He sarcastically mimics, “What a compliment.”

You playfully glare at him, but Miyeon breaks out in a cluster of coughs and furiously waves her hands in front of her face.

“Miyeon?” You ask in alarm. She shakes his head, features scrunched up.

“I don’t think I can’t eat this, it’s making me nauseous.”

Both you and her husband rise up, but Seokjin is much quicker, swiftly taking the dish away and heading over to the kitchen. He returns within a couple of seconds after Miyeon’s husband is checking on her, bringing a glass of water in his hands and a broth-like soup in his hands.

She gratefully accepts it, taking a couple of sips and reassuring all of you that she was okay. He sets down the soup in front of her.

“I made this just in case the fried food was too much.”

You watch with rounded eyes as a wide smile stretches on Miyeon’s lips and Seokjin softly smiles in return.

He slips into the seat at the far end of the table, which is right next to you, pointing to your food with a thumbs up that just had your head shaking with a smile.

***

Having breakfast with Seokjin and his family is an action you were never expected to have done, but you can definitely say you were more than glad to do so. The best words to describe them would have to be warm and welcoming, as well sharing the same business mindset that’s been drilled into your head. Aside from the fact that they believe you and Seokjin are a thing, you don’t find yourself minding thanks to the familial atmosphere.

You begin to wonder if it’s something you’ve truthfully missed over time, so used to a table that just had you and Yuna.

After everyone’s done eating, you slip out of your seat and begin to collect the plates, heading into the kitchen to place them by the sink.

Seokjin lifts his head up with a smile, “Thanks.”

“What are you doing?” You tilt your head, noticing he was hunching over the counter.

“Oh, I was cutting some cabbage to use later.” He explains, “If you don’t make something out of it fast, it starts to go bad.”

You hum, glancing around. “I’m surprised you were cooking for your family, do you do it every time?”

He shrugs, “Not all the time, but whenever I feel like it. We do have chefs,” He points out, “–if that’s what you’re wondering, but I just like cooking so I’ll make breakfast or lunch sometimes.”

You nod, “I’m impressed.”

He grins lopsidedly, “By what? That I can probably wield a knife better than a business deal?”

“Oh come on, I didn’t say that!” He loudly laughs and you stare at the perfectly cut cabbage next to him, a pout rising on your lips. “I’m just saying…that cooking is a good skill to have. There’s a lot of people that take it for granted and it isn’t as easy as it looks–“

He swivels around with wide eyes, “Oh my god, you can’t cook, can you?”

“I can cook!” You protest in defense, “J-Just not as well…”

His eyes flicker in recognition, offense written all over his features, “Wait, and you said my food’s ‘not bad’?”

“Well yeah, but–“ He turns around, rummaging around the kitchen. “What are you doing?”

“Hold on.” After a moment passes, he faces you again, a spoon in his hands that he gently blows on.

“I was making this for lunch, but I want you to try it.” He brings it up to your mouth and you almost flinch from the proximity, but cautiously take a sip.

It’s incredible, even better than the noodles he served everyone and you hum in contentment.

He looks at you with expectant eyes and it’s beginning to get harder and harder to dodge the truth.

“I-It’s good…”

He beams, “That’s nice to hear, because you’re getting some of it to take home too.”

“What?! Seokjin, it’s fine! You don’t have to–“

He abruptly turns, a knowing look in his eyes that’s accompanied with a warm smile, “Didn’t I say you can call me Jin?”

You blink wide-eyed, rendered speechless.

He raises a brow, “What? Finally discover I’m handsome yet?”

You instantly scoff with a smile, “Just give me the damn food.”

He grins, completely overjoyed. 

You encase Miyeon into a big hug.

“Thank you for letting me stay over for the night.” 

“It’s no worry at all, Y/N!” She releases you, “I’m just so happy we were able to reconnect again.”

A warm smile pulls at your lips. Aside from your workplace relationships, you didn’t really have any other significant friendships. 

It makes you feel even more so grateful to have met her again. 

“We should do something…like maybe go out during the weekend.” You suggest, and she beams. 

“I would love that!” 

You warmly smile, turning your attention over to the staircase. You recall Jin had told you to wait for him as he grabbed his keys.

“I also have to mention–“ You swirl around and Miyeon has a glint to her eyes, “You and Jin…you two make a good pair.”

You instantly scoff, having heard many remarks about the two of you throughout the day with the only recollection being the times you were training him. 

“I don’t know, he can really be loud and obnoxious at times.”

“Really?” Miyeon blinks and you raise a brow.

“Yeah, don’t you think so?”

She places a finger against her lips, deep in thought. “Well there are times where he makes a lot of jokes, puns, even.”

You don’t even need to know him too long to wholeheartedly agree with that. “–but Jin can be very sweet and caring, I just feel so lucky to have him around.”

Your brows knit together at that. You wonder if being around him so much within a work environment has almost desensitized you to his presence, not having really paid attention to any of his actions.

“Don’t worry though, I’m definitely sure Jinnie loves you a lot!” She exclaims and before you even have a chance to blink at that nickname, the sound of jingling keys greets your eyes.

Jin emerges from behind you, “Hey! Are you ready to go?”

You nod, glancing at Miyeon quickly, “I’ll see you soon.”

She eagerly smiles, waving at you as you follow Jin back to his car. You slip into the passenger seat, letting out a relieved sigh once he turns the keys and the engine roars.

“I’m so glad all that pretending to be in a relationship is finally over.”

Jin chuckles, looking behind him as he reverses the car, “Hey it wasn’t so bad now, was it?”

“It wasn’t…” You mention as he pulls fully out of the driveway, “But someone’s dramatics didn’t exactly help.”

“That’s it, I think we need to break up.”

You laugh and he glances at you with a smile before driving ahead. 

“By the way, what were you and Miyeon talking about before I came down?”

“Oh, nothing really. She was just convincing me on how great you are and that we would make a good pair.”

“She’s not wrong about the first one.” He pitches in.

You roll your eyes, “‒that and I discovered the fact that she calls you ‘Jinnie’.”

His head whips around, not quite expecting to hear that answer to leave you.

You laugh at his expression, “Why did she call me that in front of you?!”

“Oh come on, I think it’s cute!” You respond, “Right, Jinnie?”

He lets out a groan and your shoulders begin to shake with the rate at how much you’re laughing.

“Alright, I’ll stop.” You bring up when he just seems to look more and more deflated, “I have to admit though, your family’s really nice.”

“Sure, I bet they told you a bunch of awful and embarrassing things about me.”

You shrug, “I’m not going to spill, so I guess we’ll never know.”

He sends a glare in your direction and your voice pipes down, “You know, your brother did tell me something….”

“Was it about my limited-edition Mario collection?”

Your eyes round. “What? No…”

Jin nervously laughs, “Oh uh, good. Because it isn’t true.”

Somehow you think he’s not telling the truth, but you skim over the fact, “He actually told me you worked for the company before through an internship….and that you didn’t get accepted.”

His voice drops a tone, “Oh…”

“It was just something he mentioned really quickly–“ You hurriedly say, his reaction telling enough of his experience. “I was just surprised and–“

“No, he’s right. I got the opportunity with an internship and ultimately, wasn’t hired.”

You slowly nod, taken aback with his honesty. “I think at the end of the day….I wasn’t ready. I still don’t think I am.” He lowly chuckles, “I used to think someone like me could never possibly work in the office and I compared myself to my brother a lot, who I still think would be a far better CEO.”

Your eyes widen, staring at him with a mix of surprise and concern, “But my dad wanted me to take up the role instead of Seokjung. I tried convincing him, saying that I wouldn’t make for a good CEO, but he was persistent and told me to just believe in myself and his choice.” 

He lets out a long drawn out sigh, “I’ve been just trying my best and by the looks of it, it seems like I’m making progress.” 

He glances over at you with a small smile and you feel a bit touched with the gesture.

“So we’ll see how things go…” He whispers, voice suddenly pitching up. “I mean, I certainly have the look of the CEO, but the skills….ehhh….”

“Oh please, don’t sell yourself so short.” You chide and he grins.

“Why not? Don’t you think I'm the type of person who should be married with a kid?”

Your mouth falls agape and he bursts out laughing.

“Oh come on, that was a one-time mistake!”

“I’ll remember it the next time you think I’m married to my sister-in-law.”

You cross your arms, “There isn’t going to be a next time!”

“Right, you’ll probably just find someone random and assume I’m married to them.”

“Jin!”

Despite your efforts for him to stop his teasing, he keeps laughing and whispering something along the lines of ‘this is just pure gold’. Eventually, you can’t help yourself and join in, relieved that he was smiling once again.

[forhappysake]

What Lurks Within, Pt. 3

Author's Note: I know this is only my first series, but I'm having soooo much fun with it. This section offers some more background on Y/N's past with the team. If you love lore, this is for you!

Content: When the team gets a lead from the local department's tech analyst, they're forced to look into a questionable detective with a long history of complaints against him. Before they can talk to him, they've got to get him to the precinct, triggering some hard memories from the past as old fears reemerge.

Warnings: Mentions of harassment/sexism in the workplace, brief mentions of Cat Adams and Scratch, mentions of past trauma, established relationship... I think that's pretty much it!

After the detective stormed out of the precinct, the team slowly shuffled out of the conference room into the main bullpen. The young tech worker, evidently named Richie, bent over his shattered monitor. “My poor screen,” he mumbled, bending down to pick up a shard of glass on the floor. 

“Richie,” I said, “I’m Agent L/N with the BAU. I’d like to know what all that was about.” I feigned ignorance. I wanted to hear it from Richie’s perspective, and I didn’t want him to know Whittenden had already discussed the matter with Spencer and I. 

Richie sighed, standing up straight and rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “You see, when I get files from my bosses, I don’t read them, let alone open them. I just sent them on to whatever department they’re meant for.” I nodded in response, and Richie continued. “The detective thinks I messed with his files, but I didn’t! I swear! I have no reason to…” Richie trailed off, getting distracted by his broken monitor littered over the office carpet. “I can’t believe he did that.” 

“Do you know anyone who would have a reason to alter Whittendon’s files?” Emily asked, making her way to the front of the group standing in the conference room doorway. 

Richie shook his head. “Look, I’m just the tech guy. I send emails and fix computers. I don’t get involved in all the office drama and crime stuff.” Emily and I made brief eye contact. How can you avoid the “crime stuff” while working in a police department?

“Anyway, I have a hell of a mess to clean up now… If you’ll excuse me…” Richie bent down to the floor, picking up shards of shattered monitor and trying to find any missing pieces that had gone askew on the floor. I sighed at the next dead lead. I made my way back to the team, and just as I started to rejoin the team in the conference room, Richie’s voice came from behind me. “Agent L/N?”

“Yeah, Richie?” I asked, turning around to face him. 

“You didn’t hear this from me, but I know Detective Andrews has been after Whittenson’s job for months,” Richie shifted nervously on his feet, looking around the office with paranoia evident in his eyes. 

I narrowed my eyes, and nodded. “Thank you, Richie. We’ll look into that.” So much for never partaking in water-cooler gossip. The young man nodded, continuing to pick up pieces of the monitor scattered on the floor.  

I rejoined the team in the conference room, shutting the door behind me once again. “Did you guys hear that?” I asked. 

“I did,” said Emily, “I’m getting Garcia on the phone right now.” Clicking her contact and turning her phone on speaker, Emily set her phone in the middle of the table. After two rings, a bubbly voice came over the other line. 

“Hello, my pretties. How is Denver?” Penelope said. I could almost hear the smile on her lips, and I felt a small smile cross my own face. 

“It’s okay, Garcia. We need your help,” Emily answered. 

There was a moment of silence as I heard Garcia click around on her computer before she spoke again, “I am at your service, my fine-feathered FBI friends. Tell me what you need to do.”

Emily spoke again, “We need details on a Detective Andrews at the Denver Police Department, preferably anything to do with a recent promotion that he may have missed out on.” I heard Penelope clicking away on her computer. 

“Uh-huh… anything else?” Penelope asked. 

“Not for now. Have you found anything off the bat?” Emily questioned. She crossed her arms in front of her, staring intently at the cell phone. Spencer sat at the head of the table, leg tapping in anticipation. 

“Sending it to your tablets now,” Penelope said. We all heard our tablets buzz from their respective positions on the conference room’s large table. Reaching forward, I opened the file Penelope had sent. A headline caught my attention first: “Detective Ryan Whittendon named Head Homicide Detective for Denver P.D.” I scanned the article quickly, looking for anything about Detective Andrews, when a line of text caught my eye: 

“The decision for who would take over as Head Detective was a struggle. The Department was forced to choose between Whittendon, who has served with the Department for 3 years, and Jason Andrews, who has been with the Department for nearly 15 years. The Department made its decision based on success rates of case-closed and input from other office employees.”

“Yikes,” I heard Spencer mumble. He set his tablet down, scanning the faces of our other team members. 

“No kidding,” said Rossi, “working here for 15 years and getting passed over for the newbie… I bet that didn’t go over well.”

“So what does this mean?” Luke asked, “Is this guy our unsub?” 

“I don’t know about that,” I piped up. “With over fifteen years in law enforcement, becoming a serial killer would require a major personality change.” Matt and Spencer nodded in agreement. 

I saw Rossi shrug. “You’d be surprised what people would do when they feel unappreciated. They feel unseen, and they lash out in any way they can to be seen,” he said. 

“Regardless,” Emily stepped in, “we need to meet with Jason Andrews immediately. Garcia, do you have his home address available?”

“Sending it to you now,” Penelope said again. “Be safe, my friends.” With that, Penelope’s end of the line went dead. Our tablets buzzed once again, this time with Andrews’ address. 

“Okay, here’s how we’re going to do this.” Emily paced around the room, formulating a plan. “Luke and Matt, you’re going to go pick up Jason Andrews. Bring him here and get him situated in an interview room. Spencer and Y/N, I want you to follow behind them as a back up team in case things get ugly when they try to bring Andrews in.” “You’ve got it, boss,” Luke said. He rose to his feet, as Matt followed suit. The two of them headed out the conference room door and exited the precinct. Spencer backed his seat away from the table, standing up and heading for the conference room door. 

“Y/N,” he said, “are you coming?” I stared straight ahead of me, not quite making out what he said. I had an uneasy feeling growing in my stomach. I was never one to be overly superstitious, but I did believe in my instinct, and I was almost never wrong. 

“I don’t know about this, Emily,” I said. She furrowed her brow, looking at me with concern. I was never one to question her decisions or turn down the chance to chase after a bad guy. 

“What’s wrong, L/N?” she asked, coming to rest a hand on my shoulder. 

“I just… I don’t know. I just have a bad feeling.” I felt Emily’s eyes rake over me before she looked at Spencer. The two made eye contact before they both looked back at me. “Y/N,” Spencer said again, leaning down so that we were eye level. “Nothing bad is going to happen. We’re just going to pick this guy up and bring him back here so we can talk to him.” The logical part of my brain knew he was right. The guy was a current police detective, surely there was no danger in that. 

“I- I’m sorry,” I said, “I don’t know what’s come over me.” I stood from my seat. “Excuse me, I’m going to use the restroom before we go.” I exited the conference room without waiting for either of them to reply, brushing past Spencer and making quick work of the long hallway to the bathroom. I slipped in the door, and found myself staring deep into my own eyes. The reflection in the mirror seemed so foreign, so distant. 

I took deep breaths, collecting myself and drying my eyes with a paper towel before tears started to drip out of my eyes. After a couple more seconds of solitude, I left the bathroom, walking slowly back towards the conference room. The door was still cracked open, and I could hear muffled voices inside.

“I’m just worried about her. You know she isn’t fully over everything that happened, Spencer,” Emily’s voice spoke in a hushed volume. I creased my brow. Were they talking about me?

I heard Spencer sigh, followed by a long silence before he replied. “The whole thing messed us all up pretty bad. She’s better, just like we’re all doing better,” he said. The whole thing… Cat… Scratch… part of my life that felt like a pure hell. 

Emily spoke again, interrupting my thoughts, “I know, Spencer. You went through a lot, I went through a lot, but you have to acknowledge that she went through her own unique trauma as well.” You mean being psychologically tortured by a maniac before going through the physical trauma of a life-altering car accident? What’s unique about that?

“She’d only been a team member for six months when the two of you started dating. She’d only been here for a year when Cat forced her into that interrogation room and made her endure the whole night with you. Within hours of that, she was in that awful car crash with the rest of us…” Silence took over once more. “All I’m saying is, I know it’s been a few months since then, but those invisible wounds don’t heal in a few months. You should know that better than anyone.”

A long pause filled the room. I held my breath and kept silent outside the door, waiting for what would be spoken next. “Look,” Spencer broke the silence, “I know what she went through was horrendous and unfair. I think about it every day-” I heard his voice break a bit, bringing tears to my eyes once again. I heard him draw in a shaky breath before continuing, “But she is strong, and sidelining her is not going to make it any better. That’s what I do know.” 

I decided it was time to stop eavesdropping and to stop letting other people decide my fate. I stepped forward, pushing open the door. I took in Spencer’s glassy eyes, and Emily’s grip on the back of a conference room chair before he spoke. “Y/N, how long have you been out there?” he asked. 

“Long enough,” I gave a shy smile, a result of my embarrassment for having admitted to the eavesdropping. “Look guys,” I said, swapping my gaze back and forth between the two of them, “none of this is ever going to be easy for me. This past year has been a lot, but I’m moving forward. We all are, like Spencer said.” 

Emily let out an audible breath. “What I’m saying,” I started again, “is that Spencer is right. Sidelining me isn’t going to help me get any better. I know I have my weak moments, but I always come back. I just did, you see.” I gestured to the bathroom before gesturing to the conference room, “I always come back.” 

Spencer moved over to my side of the table. He reached out his hand, taking mine and offering a gentle squeeze as his show of support. “Now,” he said, “are we ready to go?” He asked it so quietly, as if he was afraid any force in his voice would break me to pieces. “I’m ready,” I said quietly, “it’s going to be fine.” 

“It’s going to be fine,” he echoed. I held his hand all the way out of the precinct to where Matt and Luke sat in their running SUV. 

“Where have you two lovebirds been?” Matt asked from the driver’s seat after rolling down his window.

“I had to use the bathroom, my bad!” I shouted back while jogging over to the passenger side of the second SUV. Spencer climbed in the driver’s seat while I slid into the passenger seat. Buckling our seatbelts, Spencer gave Matt a thumbs-up. Matt drove off, and we followed close behind. 

The ride was quiet for the first minute or so, but I could see Spencer shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “What’s wrong, Spence?” I asked, examining the way his hands fidgeted on the wheel.

He sighed. “I’m sorry if anything I said to Emily upset you,” he said apologetically. “I know we don’t like to talk about the things that happened. I just didn’t want her to bring it up in front of you and make you feel-”

You held a hand up, stopping him from saying more. “You’re right, Spencer. We don’t like to talk about it. Maybe someday we will, but for now, let’s just keep doing what we’re doing.” You offered him a small smile, a way of letting him know that you were okay. He didn’t say anything else, he just nodded, keeping his eyes on the road. You could tell that something else was bothering him, but you decided not to push the subject more. One of these days we’ll get there. 

The next ten minutes passed quickly as you pulled on to a quiet suburban street, Matt and Luke in the lead. Your pager buzzed and Matt’s voice echoed throughout the SUV. “Matt to Y/N, do you copy?”

“Copy, we’ve got you,” I replied. Matt and Luke brought the car to a stop in front of Andrews’ house. Spencer and I stayed parked a few houses back, watching to see if any back up would be needed. Luke jumped out of the car first, cautiously approaching the front step of the large brick house. They had no reason to believe Andrews was a real threat, but it was better to be safe than sorry. 

Matt followed a few steps behind, quickly hopping up the porch’s front steps, keeping a hand on his holstered weapon. It was nearing six in the morning as Luke knocked on the door, “Jason Andrews, FBI!”

Spencer and I watched in anticipation as to what would happen next. I froze as Luke knocked again. I listened over my radio as Luke’s voice rang out again, “Jason Andrews, we need to talk to you!” Suddenly, the front door swung open. A forty-something year old man in a robe stepped out on the front step with a cup of coffee in his hand. 

“Who the hell are you, and why are you on my porch at six in the morning?” Andrews asked, voice low and eyebrows raised in confusion. “My wife and kid are upstairs, keep it down.” I saw Matt and Luke’s shoulders release their tension. 

“We need you to come with us to the precinct to talk. It’s urgent.” Matt said. 

“That’s fine, just let me get dressed first,” Andrews turned back into the house as Luke and Matt waited on the porch. I let out a sigh of relief. 

“Oh, thank God,” I said. That wasn’t nearly as painful as I thought it was going to be. 

Spencer let out a quiet chuckle as Andrews stepped back out onto the porch in a full suit, climbing in the SUV with Matt and Luke. “See,” he said, “I told you there wasn’t anything to worry about this time.” 

This time… The words echoed in my mind, sending the same sickening feeling to my stomach. I didn’t respond as Spencer pulled away from the curb, following Matt and Luke back to the precinct

*  *  *

We returned to the local police department, where Luke and Matt left Andrews in an interrogation room before coming to join the rest of the team. We all sat in the conference room once again, blinds shut and door locked, contemplating our next move. 

“Okay,” Emily said, “I need your thoughts here, team. Who's going to interview him?” We all exchanged glances. 

Matt cleared his throat, “Seeing as how he did pretty well with Luke and I picking him up, I just figured we’d be on it.” Luke shrugged in response, taking a sip of his coffee. 

“I originally thought that, too,” Emily said, standing up from her spot at the table and reaching for a file she’d discarded on a shelf nearby. “That was until I read Andrews’ file.” I felt my eyebrows raise involuntarily. Reading someone’s file was a dangerous game to play, you never knew what you might find. 

“I wondered why Andrews didn’t win the popularity contest that went into becoming Head Homicide Detective,” Emily explained, as she flipped through pages, “but then I read this.” She sat a piece of paper in front of JJ, who began to read out loud. 

“Complaints of harassment against women: twenty-seven,” JJ cringed. “Good lord, how does this guy still work here?”

“So, Andrews is a raging sexist,” Luke said. 

Emily nodded. “Exactly, which is why we need a woman in the interrogation room.” JJ and I exchanged looks, as if to say ‘not it.’ “It will throw him off his game. He won’t be able to focus on lying if he’s focused on being a-”

“A douchebag?” Rossi finished for her. Emily nodded quickly. “Well,” Rossi started again, “who's it going to be?”

Matt chimed in again, “Why not send Y/N in? She’s quite a bit younger, I bet he’ll notice that too.” I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. I often forgot about my age in relation to this group. Sure, I was only twenty-five and Matt had a point, but that didn’t make me love the idea any more. 

Spencer noticed my discomfort, “Why Y/N? JJ is more than capable.” I felt JJ’s eyes on me, as well as Rossi’s and Emily’s. I did not want to let anyone down, especially after the conversation I’d overheard between Spencer and Emily earlier in the morning. 

“No, Spence,” I said, rising from my seat and moving behind his chair. “I’m okay with it. I’ll go in with Luke, we can handle it together.” I tried to reassure him by placing my hands on his shoulders, but Spencer did not seem to relax under my touch. 

“Great,” Emily said, “I’m glad to hear it.” She handed Luke the file on Andrews to flip through before turning to me. “Don’t let him get the better of you. He’s going to be a jerk and I want you play along with him. Each time you do, you’ll be loosening his lips even more.”

She gave me a reassuring smile. I nodded, understanding what she wanted from me. Besides, I’ve been locked in interrogation rooms with worse people before.

To be continued!

[inciting-chaos-series]

The Night Shift: Chapter Three

If you'd like to be tagged when new chapters are posted let me know! -Ghostiewvlf

✦✦Update: Edited slightly :) -Ghostiewvlf

✦ The Night Shift Masterpost ✦

➢ Tag List: @valleys

➢Author: Ghostiewvlf & JTheGhost ➢ Rating: Mature ➢ Pairings: Corpse X reader | Corpse X y/n ➢ Themes: Slow Burn | Coworkers To Lovers | Angst | Holiday | Mutual Pining | Fluff | Smut? | Hurt/Comfort | Soulmates | Fake Relationships | Miscommunication | Forced Proximity | Found Family | ➢ Warnings: Crude Humor | Suicidal Jokes/Ideation | Drinking | Smoking |

➢Summary:

You work the night shift at a local dog kennel for boarding and daycare. You love the peace and quiet of the shift, but just when you get comfortable- a few break-ins happen around town, and upper management decides to place your quiet, brooding, shift lead on the schedule with you.

☽✧ Chapter Three: Musically In Tune ✧☾

-Y/N POV-

Your second class wasn't supposed to start for another fifteen minutes, but you really didn't have the energy to get out of bed. You hated that you only had one day off work, sure your job was alright, but using your other day off as the day to schedule all your classes was really not the move, because now you didn't want to attend the lectures. The text that popped up on your phone didn't help focusing much either. Why was he texting you? Did he want you to come in on your day off?

Logan 🐺:

Hows school nerd?

“Weird” You said aloud, laughing to yourself as the small adrenaline rush of having to come in dissipated.

You:

Not exactly better than work, but not worse 

Logan 🐺:

I can always call you in for an ‘emergency’ haha

You:

No thanks! Lol

Next thing you knew your phone was flooding with sad cat memes about school. Your face quickly started to ache from laughing so much. 

Logan 🐺:

Don’t tell the boss im memeing on company time

You:

You are my boss stupid 

Logan 🐺:

Oh, yeah… guess I am ;) 

It was so bizarre seeing this side of him. In just a week he had gone from this “quiet shift lead that no one really wants to talk to” to “coworker that you look forward to working with everyday” to now, acquaintances? Friends? You didn't really know. It was hard for you to draw lines between stages of friendship at work. Maybe he was just being nice to make you feel more comfortable around him? 

Logan 🐺:

So… what class are you in right now?

You:

Just about to start music theory 

Logan 🐺:

RIP haha

Need any help studying? I’m pretty good with music 

You:

I might take you up on that actually lol 

I never have time for this class so now im nearly failing

Logan 🐺:

Bring your stuff next shift and we’ll work on it :)

You:

Thank youuuu :’)

You turned the screen off on your phone and tried your best to pay attention during your lecture, but you couldn't shake the nervous energy you had built up thinking about the next shift working with him. 

It didn't take long for the next workday to arrive. You had barely slept at all, staying up studying and trying to catch up in your other courses was beginning to take a toll on you. You arrived barely on time for your shift, quickly getting the usual updates from departing day staff before clocking in. You headed into the break room and set your things down before collapsing into the seat and catching your breath. You’d just barely remembered to grab your music theory notes and homework, collecting them in a rush and making you run just enough behind that you’d be late if you picked up food for the shift. At least you would be able to get some help from Logan tonight though and hopefully your next exam would go over better than the last. 

The day shift quickly finished up and clocked out. Logan seemed to be running a bit late, so once everyone else had clocked out and left you began the duties of the night. You were on your second rotation of letting dogs out when you heard his car pull up, so you didn't turn to look when you heard the backdoor open and a few more dogs run out. You continued playing with one of the more shy dogs that was boarding for the night and watched to make sure everyone was getting along.

“Hey there.” You felt a warm hand on your back, a sharp contrast with the bite in the cold fall air. You tried to ignore the nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach acting up. 

“Oh hey!” a slightly-too-loud laugh falling from your lips. 

“I stopped at Starbucks and got us some coffee.” An uneven smile painted his face, making him look almost comical with his cold bitten nose and pale skin, along with those signature dark circles under his eyes. 

“Oh wow, thank you! I was running late and wasn't able to stop for anything today.” You smiled and accepted the warm cup and took an eager sip, grateful to have some caffeine for the night. 

“Oh huh, perfect timing I guess? You're welcome.” He chuckled and offered a smile just as warm as the cup in your hands. “I can order some food or snacks later too.” He took a sip of his own cup and huffed, his breath forming a small cloud in front of him due to the freezing temperature. As much as you despised the cold and how it made your already poor circulation in your hands feel like pins and needles, you did really love the aesthetics of it: the clouds of breath, the way it made faces redden, the smell that was draped across everything the night before a big thunderstorm or heavy snowfall, the oversized hoodies and layered outfits that everyone seemed buried in, big boots with chunky socks- it was all very comforting in a way, it seemed to round out the edges in a very sharp world.

The night went by much the same as it began. There was a very comforting feeling about the weather and the mood that you were both in, even the dogs seemed very subdued. Time seemed to go by a bit slower, which you happily welcomed after weeks of vigorous study. 

Though time seemed to be lulling along peacefully, you got your nightly duties done in record time. You blamed the unusually well behaved dogs. It wasn't long before you were both sitting at the front desk again, joking around and playing some light music. He hesitantly showed you a few of his favorite bands. You assumed his apprehension was from fear of judgment. Lucky for him, you both enjoyed darker, more melancholy music. 

You both listened to his Spotify playlist while he helped you on your coursework. You bopped along to several songs you recognized as he read through your work. BONES, Xavier Wulf, and several other artists played softly through the speakers. 

“Mm, yeah not this one…” You sheepishly laughed as you clicked skip on Cholesterol, not needing to feel too melancholic tonight. He merely chuckled and nodded with firm agreement. You were surprised by his knowledge about music, he helped you get through the entirety of your homework, as well as explained a bunch of the questions you’d missed on the last exam you brought with you. 

“How do you know all this? I feel like you know more than my professor honestly…” You laughed as you finished up the last question and shut your notebook. He’d managed to explain everything all in a way that was actually making sense to you. He’d even related back to songs that played out softly on the speakers and used them as examples to the concepts. 

“I sincerely fucking doubt that…” He chuckled tiredly. “I just- know music I guess… I spend a lot of time with and around it, I uh-  I’ve even made a couple songs myself…” You smiled as you caught the red tint on his heated cheeks.

“Wait really?” You gave him a surprised look. 

“Yeah, I don’t know if they're any good, but I like making them.” He shrugged and passed you the keyboard  and mouse to play music. 

“Can I hear one?” You pried, making him slump into his chair further and groan softly.  

“Ahh I don’t know, y/n…” He huffed and rolled his eyes playfully. “I haven't really shown anyone, but I guess if you promise to not make fun of me…” he turned slightly and narrowed his eyes at you, “...or tell anyone here-  maybe I’ll bring my computer next time or something…” 

“Hmm, we’ll see…” You squinted back, jokingly challenging him before laughing.

“I’ll write you up I swear to god y/n…” He joked back, laughing along with you. 

“OoOkay boss man…”

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[burnedbyshoto]

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.

He was okay.

He was okay.

“Kirishima?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

But he was obviously not the first choice still.

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

“Toshinori—”

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

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

He had barely passed the admittance test.

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

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

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

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

“I can do it.”

A smile.

“Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were tiny.

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

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

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

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

“Six months tops.”

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

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

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

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

“...no,” Kirishima answers truthfully.

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

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

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

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

Fuck, that one hurt.

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

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

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

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

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

“Six months,” Kirishima agreed.

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

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

“You got it.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, yes, let’s continue.”

So, the contract was discussed to full detail.

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

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

Or so the contract said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, so much for a good case.

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

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

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

You always managed to sneak away from him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ya, okay, bye!”

“By—”

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

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

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

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

He wanted to be just a fan.

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

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

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

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

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

“You know I can’t do that it’s not—”

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

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

And then there’s only silence.

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

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

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

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

He knew that.

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

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

You were a good person.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...how interesting.

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

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

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

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

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

“Very much.”

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

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

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

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

So much for change.

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

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

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

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

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

It had been a hard morning.

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

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

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

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

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

But today, Kirishima was exhausted.

Today, Kirishima wanted to sleep.

Today… Kirishima broke.

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

You ignore him.

“We’re leaving, now.”

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

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

He grabs your wrist and begins pulling you away.

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

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

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

Oh, right.

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

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

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

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

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

“Compromises aren’t—”

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

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

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

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

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

“Wh-”

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

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

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

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

And for a moment, it’s quiet.

Until a single name is screamed.

“SERGEANT!”

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

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

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

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

The van turns on.

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

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

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

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

T082-23

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

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

Well, shit.

So much for the month of no attacks.

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

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

But they also gave him an essential piece of information.

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

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

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

For now, he was waiting for you.

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

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

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

“Should we go?”

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

“I actually wanted to talk before we left.”

Oh?

“Of what, if I may ask?”

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

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

“Sure.”

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

The contract was then discussed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course, Kirishima.”

“Oh, and y/n?” 

“Yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kirishima stood in the softly lit hallways of a sauna.

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

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

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

Well, everyone but Kirishima, that was.

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

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

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

A stressful month had passed into a friendlier one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I-If that’s okay?”

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

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

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

“No, I’m okay,” you politely decline.

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

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

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

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

“So, what questions do you have?”

“Hm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A pause.

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

A nod.

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

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

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

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

What had happened?

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

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

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

“Was that um, Major—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wasn’t made of glass.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

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

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

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

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

“PERVERT!”

“What?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, his dreams were never like this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kirishima stepped back out to the hot spring.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jenny, are you okay?” you called.

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

“We weren’t fucking you prude!”

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

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

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

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

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

What was he going to do now?

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

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

Bad, Kirishima, bad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That sounds amazing, Kimiko!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whoever it was, pfft.

Kirishima was willing to bet on who it was already.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something.

Anything.

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

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

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

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

He was going to.

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

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

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

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

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

“Ready to move out?”

“We’re all clear.”

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

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

“Damn right I will.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Such a brat.”

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

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

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

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

T082-23.

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

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

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

You really came to life right now.

You were beautiful.

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

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

He was here.

Every warning bell sounded in Kirishima’s head.

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

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

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

Wait.

“What?! Family member?!”

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

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

There was no way you wouldn’t.

Was he wrong?

Who was it?

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

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

Oh fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

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

“...she’s drunk?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was a reason why you were considered a legend.

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

You smile.

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

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

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

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

How were they related?

What connected them?

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

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

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

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

Kirishima panted as he looked before him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was he ready?

Actually ready?

Save her, his past whispered.

Save her, his nightmares screamed.

Save her, his heart yelled.

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

BANG!

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tonight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you resisted and might have been harsher than needed.

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

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

But it was growing late.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frown. 

“Where will you be sleeping then?”

“My couch is just fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, I’ll be leaving—”

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

“Oh, sure!”

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

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

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

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

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

He was relaxed.

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

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

“Really?”

“One hundred percent.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” you grin against his mouth.

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

“No?” he repeats.

“No,” you confirm.

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

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

Menacing, promising, sending chilling shivers down your spine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What does the princess want?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Holy fuck, he could quickly kill you with that.

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

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

And thankfully, Kirishima allows it.

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

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

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

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

It feels like fire.

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

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

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

Slap!

“Hey!”

Slap!

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

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

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

More, you plead.

And he delivers. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who saved you?”

“E-Ei did,” you garble.

“Who’s fucking you?”

“E-Ei is!”

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

“Me! Fuck, me!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he didn’t.

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

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

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

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

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

“I think we do.”

[abbatoirablaze]

SDAU, The Twins, Chapter 1

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings:  mentions of cross-frat hazing/bullying

“Hello?” an annoyed voice rang out through the administration building.  Ari’s head popped up from a filing cabinet, but he didn’t see anyone.  Thinking he was hearing things, he shrugged, and dropped back to his knees, working steadily on filling the new student’s paperwork so that he’d have one less thing to do before the semester started.  A few more moments later he heard the annoyed voice again, “Is anyone here?  Hello?”

Ari stood up to his full height and he cursed himself, seeing a cute little tigress angrily tapping an ID card on the counter.  He brushed his hair back away from his face and looked her way.    

“One second!” Ari replied.  He lifted the stack of forms that he was working on and put them on top of the filing cabinet.  Then, closing the bottom drawer with a swift kick of his foot, he made his way to the counter. 

And while the tigress looked annoyed beyond belief, the only thing Ari could think of was how her beautiful blue eyes seemed to look right through him.  She was small, even for a tigress omega, and it made his inner alpha rumble.  He wanted to pick her up and throw her over his shoulder and have his way with her.

“Hey.”

The girl put down her phone, and her lips parted slightly, seeing the large 6’5” alpha up close and personal.  She was at most 5’1” and the bear towered over her.  Her words left her momentarily as she held up her card. 

“How can I help you?” Ari smiled. 

And that was all it took to snap her out of whatever trance that she had been in, “your new student department is a bunch of idiots.”

Ari bit his lip and looked down at his chest, where a badge was clipped to his flannel.  He smirked as it was just above her eyeline.  It was three lines. 

Ari Levinson

Administration

New students lead

The tigress blushed, unable to keep her foot out of her mouth in front of the clearly attractive man.  She looked back down at the counter, sliding her ID towards him, “y-your department doubled my sister’s ID and tried to pass it off as me.”

Ari frowned, holding his hand out to take the ID, “you’re not…Adriana Smith?  Teaching major?”

“Arianna Smith.  Chemistry major.”

Ari smiled at the woman, “Chemistry major?  A tigress?”

“H-how did you know I was a tigress?”

Ari nodded up at the top of her head and she frowned, her ears having made an appearance as she started a partial shift, “you’re a big cat…too up front to be a panther or lynx.  Not sneaky enough to be a cheetah.  Colorings off for a lioness.”

She crossed her arms, “do you go around profiling every shifter that walks through the doors, complaining about your department?”

“Only the beautiful ones…”

Arianna was taken back by his forwardness.  She had been used to alphas that were forward, yes, but usually they were just gruff, going directly into the sexual route.  This one was confusing her by complimenting her and being playful. 

“And what are you?” she asked, “a snake?  Your charms won’t work on me, you know…I-I won’t fall for it.”

“Bear…little too big to be a snake,” Ari corrected with a smirk as he ran his hands through his hair, “my height usually gives it away…you may be good at chemistry, but your profiling needs a little work.”

“I-I’m distracted,” she admitted breathily.  Ari bit his lip, realizing that her eyes had fallen to his v-line when he ran his hands through his hair, the flannel he was wearing having come up just enough to allow her to see the thick veins that disappeared beneath his jeans.  He chuckled, drawing her gaze back to his own calm blue eyes, “c-can you fix it or not?”

“I can fix it,” he told her softly.  He picked up the ID, tapping it against the counter as he turned towards his computer, “spell your name for me?”

“A-R-I-A-N-N-A!” she confirmed, as she shook her head, trying to ignore the omega headspace that his heady scent was putting her in.  She shifted uncomfortably on the other side of the counter, “d-do you need me to spell my last name too?”

“Nope,” he smirked, sparing her a glance, “I’m pretty sure I know how to spell Smith.”

“So, there’s half a brain in your department.”

Ari smirked, unable to keep himself from reacting to the woman who was insulting his department.  Her cynicism was something that he didn’t normally hear around his frat, and coming from her, he couldn’t help but think the feisty little creature was adorable.  He was filled with even more pride knowing that he’d flustered the poor thing so much that she had let her ears come out.  He couldn’t help but feel drawn to her as she stood in front of him. 

“The, uh, printer is working on another batch of ID’s for students who came in to get their pictures taken…you can wait around if you want…or I can drop it off to you later.”

“Y-you’d drop it off for me?”

Ari nodded, wanting more time with the tigress, “i-I mean, if you’re busy.  You probably came in with a campus tour group, right?”

“I…uh…yeah…”

“I get off in a few hours,” he offered slowly, “if you want, I could meet you somewhere.  I have to stop by my frat house re-“

“Frat house?”

“Yeah,” Ari blushed, suddenly embarrassed by the fact that he’d brought it up, “I uh, I’m the president of Phi Sigma Alpha…we have the house at the end of Greek Row…right across from the Alpha Chi Rhos…it’s the blue one with the college’s flag…have you been down to Greek Row yet?”

“I-I haven’t…Phi Sigma Alpha?” she asked, “which one is that?”

“Not the assholes,” he smiled, barely able to bite back his commentary, “Phi Sigma Alpha.  All that is rare, is wanted.”

“So, you’re not the alpha only frat?”

“No,” he chuckled, “my vp is an omega lion…we’ve got a healthy mix of alphas, betas, omegas…some of the lesser accepted designations…even a few humans…we appreciate everyone.”

The omega nodded, “that’s…refreshing.”

“So uhm, if you want?” Ari suggested, as he put in the order for a new card, “you could come by later…or if you want somewhere more public I could meet you at the library…or you could come back here…it’s up to you rea-“

“I’ve never been to a frat house.”

Ari smiled, “I’d love to show you around…seven good?  Tonight is pizza night, and the guys usually invite a few people from teams they’re on, study partners…it’s an open invitation really.”

“So, a party?”

“Y-yeah…a party…”

“Can I bring my sister too?”

“You can bring whoever you want…” Ari smiled, “so long as you’re there.”

“Come on, give it back,” the young kid asked.  Curtis and Bucky chuckled with Bobby and Lee as they tossed the kid’s hat between the four of them, “come on.  Mr. Stark will get really mad if I lose my hat.  Give it back!”

“Stark?” Bobby asked, narrowing his eyes at his rival, “you with a frat, kid?”

“I’m pledging to Ph-Phi Sigma Alpha,” the freshman stuttered, “President Ari and VP Steve has all of us volunteering to lead around the tour groups before the semester starts.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at the mention of his ex-best friend, “You’re a Phi pledge?”

“Y-yes sir!”

Bucky smirked and grabbed the hat from Lee, then turned around.  A few of the students cringed when they saw Bucky put the hat down the back of his pants.  He was rubbing it against his ass.  A few seconds later he pulled it out and then put it back on top of the kid’s head, “tell Steve, Bucky said hey…he’ll recognize my scent…”

“That’s just wrong, Barnes,” Curtis laughed.  Lee pushed the kid out of his way as they noticed yet another group, coming down the quad; only the pudgy guide looked nervous, seeing the outcome of what his friend had just gone through.  He nodded to Bucky and Lee, “make sure Pillsbury dough boy comes and says hi to us as well.”

“Don’t call him that,” the pledge admonished, “t-that’s rude.”

“You’re an omega,” Bobby grunted, pushing the kid a little bit.  He used his aura, making the wiry teen bow in submission, the rough alpha command making the kid cringe, “don’t tell an alpha what to do.  And you better keep that hat on the rest of the day.  You aren’t allowed to remove it.”

“Y-yes sir.”

Curtis chuckled, pushing the kid out of the way, telling him to continue on with his tour, while he sauntered up to the other group, Pronge in tow.  But he paused, when he saw a preppy little tigress on the edge of the group, already trying to stop Lee and Bucky from teasing him.  She was a tiny little thing, but there was something about her that made his inner bear thrash against his head.

She reached forward, pushing Bucky, “I said stop it.  He’s done nothing to you.”

It barely moved Bucky, but Lee was quick to grab the tigress by her arm, and she looked at him with wide eyes, “don’t go round grabbin’ alphas, girl…not when you’re a dainty little thing…can’t smell ya, but I bet you’re an omega…aren’t you?”

She whimpered and tried to pull herself from the chubby alpha who looked like he was trying to scent her.  She shied away, looking scared.  Curtis growled.  It was a low warning growl.  Lee turned to him, “what?  You like this one, Everett?”

“Don’t go scaring the poor thing,” Curtis said in a light-hearted tone.  But deep down he was trying not to show just how angry he was that Lee had attempted to scent her.  Curtis couldn’t smell her, but there was something about her that drove him wild.  Lee huffed, letting go of the omega, and took a step back, “come here, sweet girl.”

It was an alpha command. 

Granted, it was a soft one, but a command, nonetheless.  But she didn’t seem to mind it.  She looked at him with glowing blue eyes that made the large bear’s heart race.  He growled at himself, angry that such a dainty little thing was affecting him in such a way.

“Finish your tour, dough boy,” Curtis commanded.  The pudgy guide looked to Curtis and the rest of the Rho’s but said nothing as he quickly led the small group away. Curtis’ eyes remained focused on the tigress in front of himself, “what’s your name, sweet girl?”

“Adriana,” she said quietly, looking at him as though he were the sun.  He smiled at the fact that she didn’t seem to notice his brothers, only him.  His bear rumbled as her name danced across her lips, “I-I’m Adriana.”

“Have you been to Greek Row, Adrianna?”

“N-no,” she said with a shake of her head, “W-why would I go there?”

“Let me give you the VIP tour of the campus.”

It wasn’t a question as he held his arm out to her.  She nodded timidly taking it as his brother’s continued on to torment the next Phi pledge who was coming through the library doors just a little ways away. 

Chapter 2

[isthisthingeven0n]

number eleven : s.r

a serial killer is at large in atlana, carving numbers into his victims and throwing their bodies from rooftops. yet, things seem to hit a little too close to home for your liking, and sadly you get caught up in it all (4.2k)

( this is an original idea of mine, I’ve gone based off what I know in the show but the killer is made up! pls do not steal my concept without at least asking, and i hope you enjoy :) )

“It’ll be okay, Spence,” You fight against the unsubs hold as his arm remains pressed against your neck. “just, don’t give up.”

“Please, let her go!” You can hear the crack in his voice as his gun shakes in his grip, his eyes not leaving yours as tears pool. “You don’t have to do this, there’s another choice for you.”

The unsub scoffs as you wince at he breathes into your ear. “This ends with you.”

*

Two Days Earlier

“Hey, Spencer,” You smile as you walk through the doors to the bullpen, two cups of coffee in hand as you place onto his desk. “how was the Doctor Who convention?”

Out of everyone in the team, you were the only one to pay attention to the small details Spencer shares. You always have done, ever since you first joined the BAU, you noticed the subtle eye rolls as he rambled on with facts and statistics so you made sure to always pay attention.

Lifting his head up, Spencer can feel a smile tugging his lips as you take a seat at your desk adjacent to his. “You would’ve loved it. They had the original designs from the Cybermen’s first appearance in 1966, ‘The Tenth Planet’ and for the time, it was high tech stuff.” He explains whilst you listen contently, oblivious to the others watching you both.

“God, they’re so into each other it hurts.” Emily sighs as Penelope nods along.

JJ walks over to the girls, catching sight of what they’re fixated on. “Why can’t they just say something? I mean, it’s been three years.” Penelope questions, but JJ simply chuckles.

“This is Spencer and Y/n we’re talking about.” JJ comments. “For one of the smartest people I’ve ever met, Spencer can be stupid sometimes.” She states, returning her focus to how you look at Spencer as he talks, but also how willing Spencer is to be close to you and laughs at your input in between his rambles.

“I bet twenty dollars he’ll say something by the end of the year.” Rossi chimes in, but Emily scoffs. 

“Dream on, Rossi.” She comments, but Rossi shrugs his shoulders. 

Hotch exits his office, catching a glance from the girls who quickly stand up straight. “We’ve got a new case,” He announces, passing between you and Spencer on the way.

As you all enter the board room, you sit beside Spencer as you look at the tablet in front of you whilst he sticks to the original file.

“Within the past few months in Atlanta, Georgia, at least nine women have been found dead having fallen from rooftops, all in their twenties, latest victim was Caroline Kutes, twenty-three. Last seen having gone for a run after her shift at a local diner.” Penelope explains as you scroll through the images, seeing what was left of them from the crime scene.

“It’s not some suicide pack, is it?” Morgan speaks up, but Penelope shakes her head.

“I’m glad you asked, sugar.” She turns her back as she pulls up more images, displaying the victims left forearms. 

“Numbers?” You question, zooming in onto the number three having been carved into the victim's flesh. “Someone’s keeping track.”

“So we know there are nine confirmed victims of this unsub then, it’s not a suicide pack.” Hotch states. “The police have requested our insight on the case, wheels up in thirty.”

Closing the tablet you push your chair back. “You alright?” Spencer asks you as everyone begins to file out.

You force a small smile, nodding. “Yeah, just some cases are never easy.” You mutter before heading out and grabbing your things.

*

Arriving straight to the latest crime scene, Hotch splits the team up. “Prentiss, I want you and Morgan to go to the rooftop, see if there’s anything left by the unsub or Caroline Kutes. Reid, Y/L/N, go to the morgue to take a look at the carvings and if there’s any other sign of torture.”

With that, you climb into a car with Spencer, looking at the drop from the building to where Hotch stands. “One hell of a fall.” You whistle as the driver pulls away, Spencer not missing your comment or how you’ve been wiping your hands over your pants since you arrived.

Standing in the morgue, Spencer took the lead as you stood back whilst bodies were examined. “There isn’t any sign of sexual assault on any of the women, but there are bruises across the neck and the carvings on the arm.” The diener explains. “From the fall she suffered several broken bones, a collapsed lung and a crack to her skull along with internal bleeding.”

“Are you saying she was alive when she hit the ground?” You speak up, stepping closer to see how they’ve managed to clean up the victims face, what remains from the large gash in her head.

“Yes, but only for a minute. She chocked to death on her own blood.” The diener states and you can’t help but feel a shiver through your spine.

“It’s most likely the unsub approached these women, if Caroline was out for a run, he might’ve asked her for directions or grabbed her. If she was grabbed, it would explain the bruising on the neck in an attempt to cut the circulation off to the brain, rendering her unconscious.” Spencer suggests, looking over to you as you remain too quiet for his liking. “You in there?”

Snapping out from your thoughts, you nod. “So the unsub approaches these women, tries to strangle them and then takes them to a rooftop. He isn’t sexually assaulting these women, but why throw them off a roof?”

“If he’s trying to pose it as suicide, it’s unusual for women to throw herself off a roof, it’s too dramatic. If a woman were to commit suicide, she’d overdose or drown herself. A subtle way to go.” Spencer explains as you nod along. “It’s almost as if he’s apologetic. He wants them to suffer, but can’t inflict the pain besides carving a number into their forearm.” Spencer looks over the number on Caroline’s arm. “You can see in some area’s he didn’t go deep enough with the knife, he’s dug in multiple times to carve out enough skin to make it bleed.”

“Maybe he’s a narcissist? Keeping track of his victims, making sure no one else can take the limelight for these girls.” You state. “I mean, he knows he isn’t going to get caught by the girls. Based on Caroline, she could barely move let alone tell anyone who did this.”

“I’ve seen countless bodies from suicide by jumping from buildings. It’s a rarity if you survived such a fall like this.” The diener tells you. “Clearly they knew what they were doing.” 

“Contrary to popular belief, when the body falls from a height their head does not splatter onto the ground. Their bones will break and splay out, but if you were to fall from say a 48 feet building you’re most likely to live with a 50% chance of surviving.” Spencer explains, and you nod along. 

“But our unsub picks tall buildings. Office blocks, malls, parking lots.” You tell Spencer who hums. “He knows they’re not going to survive the fall.” 

“Yes, but statistically,” Spencer begins, but your phone begins to ring cutting him off. 

“Sorry, Spence.” You tell him with an apologetic smile before moving out from the morgue, taking the phone call. “Yeah?” 

“Ah, my sweet angel. Have you found Cupid’s arrow yet?” Penelope chuckles, causing you to roll your eyes. “How’s the case going? No one’s called to update me on the gruesome details.” 

You sigh quietly. “Honestly, Pen, you’re lucky.” You tell her. “And what’d you mean by Cupid’s arrow?” 

Penelope groans loudly through the phone, and you can hear her head hitting the keyboard before she apologises to it. “Y/n, how are you so pretty yet oblivious to the attraction of one Spencer Reid?” 

“I, what?” You stumble over your words as you look over your shoulder to see Spencer staring back at you with a small smile on his lips as he waves to you. “I, he, Spencer? No,” You scoff, trying to think about anything else to reduce the spike in your heart rate. 

“I’m no profiler, but I know things,” Penelope states. 

“You’ve got it all wrong, Pen. Sorry to disappoint you, but there is no way he could ever like-” 

“Y/n?” Spencer calls out, now standing in the doorway in front of you. “Hotch wants us to meet him, has a potential lead.” 

“Sorry P, I gotta go.” You tell Penelope before she has the chance to say anything else and hang up the phone. 

Walking alongside Spencer, you can’t help but notice how close he is to you. For someone who is a bit of a germaphobe, he’ll always sit with you before anyone else. During a flight last month with bad turbulence, he held your hand in his as you began to fall asleep, resting your head on his shoulder. You woke up concerned he’d mind, but Spencer just smiled and offered his shoulder any time. 

“So, what’s the lead?” You ask as you walk into the police precinct, finding the rest of your team in a small room as boards with pictures have already been set up. 

“I’ve checked with Garcia about the possibility that whoever is doing this must have some form of access to each of these buildings. There has to be something tying them together,” Prentiss begins. 

“Like a cleaning company, or security?” JJ suggests. 

Emily nods before grabbing a file and reading directly from it. “SecureO is a security company based all over Atlanta. They have hundreds of security guards working at various office blocks, department stores, parking lots. You name it, they’ve got people there.” 

“And our unsub works for them?” You question, looking at the file to see the hundreds of names. “How are we supposed to find him?” 

Hotch reaches out to call Garcia. “And here I thought you forgot about me.” Penelope states through the line, and Morgan smiles to himself. 

“Garcia, can you take a look at the employee records for SecureO and crosscheck to see if any of them have criminal records.” Hotch asks as you listen intently to Penelope typing away. 

“Okay, fifty-seven members of staff have criminal records.” Penelope states.

“How about any with troubled pasts? Maybe this guy is using these women as a form of release. He’s not sexually assaulting them, so it’s less likely to be about an ex, maybe it’s more personal.” You suggest, and Spencer scans through the file once again before looking back at the victims on the board.

“You, my pretty might be onto something,” Garcia chirps. “right, there are twelve members of staff who grew up in the foster system. I’m sending their details over to you right as we speak.”

“Wait, Penelope,” Spencer calls out and Hotch raises his head. “how many of those twelve lost family? Basing on their age and strength, he must be at least in his late twenties or early thirties. Try looking up any accidents in the state in the late eighties to early nineties.”

“Thinking he might have never left the state?” Morgan questions, his arms crossed over his chest.

Clearing his throat, Spencer stands taller beside you as you glance up at him with a reassuring smile. “Looking at all these women, they’re all young and pretty. Anyone who grew up in the system is less likely to leave the place they’re comfortable in. If our unsub grew up in Georgia, he would’ve stayed here and have gotten a job at eighteen. SecureO has been around for twelve years, and five of these employees have been around since it began.”

“Okay, I’ll send across anything once I’ve found it.” Penelope speaks up and hangs up the phone.

“Good work, Reid. Let’s go deliver the profile.” Hotch nods as he leads the way out of the room, Rossi patting Spencer’s shoulder as he departs.

“Not too shabby, Doctor.” You nudge Spencer playfully and he softly chuckles as you walk out.

“Couldn’t have done it without you, Y/n.” He mutters under his breath as you walk out of earshot.

*

Entering the station the next morning, you looked around as solemn expressions greeted you.

“What’s happened?” You ask, taking a seat beside Spencer who notions to JJ.

“Another victim was found in the early hours of this morning. Amelie Hartnell, twenty, was discovered on top of a dumpster in a back alley below a seven-story abandoned office building.” JJ passes over the file to you as you flick through the images whilst you hold your breath.

“She was only twenty,” You mutter to yourself, unaware of Spencer eyeing you carefully. “there’s something about the carving on her, it isn’t as deep. You can see it’s a lot shallower than the others.” You explain.

“He was in a rush this time.” Morgan states. “But if it was an abandoned building, who was going to see him?”

“I’m not sure,” Hotch mutters. “call Garcia, see if she’s found anything yet about those five employees.” 

“On it. Baby girl,” Morgan comments before exiting the room. 

“You seem tired, Y/n.” Rossi speaks up, and you lift your head up to see the concern in his eyes. “Is something bothering you?” 

Shaking your head, you dismiss the matter as the team look over at you. “I’m fine, just thinking about a few things. Didn’t get much sleep last night.” You tell him, but Spencer can tell there’s something else underlying you’re not saying. “Excuse me, I just need some air.” You mutter before exiting the precinct. 

Watching you walk away, Spencer sighs. “Well, go follow her,” Rossi motions to Spencer who quickly gets up and exits the room. “these kids, I swear.” He mutters to himself once Spencer is out of sight.

As you walk out, you take a deep breath, clearing your thoughts. “Y/n,” Spencer calls out and you turn around, forcing a smile. “something’s clearly bothering you.” He states as you move away to sit on a bench whilst Spencer hovers beside you. 

“When I was growing up, I had a friend, Sylvia,” You start, and Spencer watches as you brush your hands over your pants once more. “she moved to Savannah and we just grew apart, but I’ll never forget her brother, Killian.” 

Spencer sits down beside you, your leg touching his as he reaches out and takes your hand. “Y/n, what was it about Killian?” He questions quietly. 

“He was always there, just watching us.” You mumble, remembering those bright blue eyes always in the background, never leaving you or Sylvia. “But, their parents, they died in a car crash when Sylvia was thirteen, Killian was fourteen.” You begin to explain as you exhale a shaky breath. 

Squeezing Spencer’s hand, he shushes you. “It’s okay, just, take it one memory at a time.” He reassures you as your eyes remain tightly shut. 

“From what I know, Sylvia couldn’t take it, losing her parents,” You swallow the lump in your throat as you open your eyes, focusing on Spencer’s. “she killed herself, by jumping off of the roof of a mall.” 

“Just like the first victim.” Spencer mutters as he quickly stands up. “We gotta tell Hotch.” 

*

“Why didn’t you mention this sooner, Y/n?” Hotch stressed as he frowns at you, but Spencer remains by your side as you keep your focus on the team, eyeing the photos behind Emily. 

“I suppressed a lot of memories from when I was growing up, I forgot all about Killian and Sylvia, but seeing these photos it just made me think back to it all.” You explain, looking around at all of your team. “I’m sorry for holding back.” You apologise, and JJ smiles as she walks over, hugging you lightly. 

“Garcia, can you look up Killian and Sylvia Atwork?” You speak up into the phone and Penelope begins to type rapidly before pausing.

“Oh my god,” She mutters. “Killian has been working at SecureO for ten years. He was employed when he turned eighteen and is in charge of the security footage for various locations.” 

Hotch rises to his feet. “We have to inform the police department and the news outlets, JJ, can you sort a press conference?”

“I’m on it.” JJ states as she begins to call her contacts, taking the call in another room.

“Y/n, we might’ve just had a break in the case because of you, thank you.” Hotch comments and Rossi gives you a subtle thumbs up. “Garcia, I need you to look at any other buildings that SecureO are in charge of the security systems, see if our unsub is heading to any of these next. If we’re lucky, we’ve got enough time to stop him killing again.”

“Will do, Sir.” Penelope calls out from the phone.

“You think we’ll get him in time?” You speak up, fiddling with the hem of your cardigan.

“Hopefully.” Hotch sighs and JJ walks back in.

“Ready when you are, Hotch.”

* The plan was simple, and it should’ve been effective. All of you were teamed off into pairs. Prentiss and Morgan, JJ and Rossi, Hotch and the chief of police whilst you went with Reid.

“I’m proud of you, Y/n.” Spencer mutters as you sit beside him in the car on route to the office block about ten minutes west of the station. “Without you, we might not have gotten to this point.”

Spencer can’t help but feel warm inside as you smile up at him. “You think so?”

“I know for a fact.” He states as his hand reaches out to yours as he pulls up to the building. “Just keep an eye out, and don’t do anything stupid.”

“Again.” You add as you close the car door, securing your vest on as the pair of you begin to head up to the roof of the building, you leading the way.

“Any sign, Y//L/N?” Hotch asks through your earpiece.

Looking around, you keep your gun extended in front of you as you quietly open the door to the roof. “Negative.” You state, turning the corner as you continue to search the place whilst Spencer is still coming up the stairs.

“Reid, my dead grandmother could’ve gotten up those stairs faster than you.” You joke playfully as he comes into sight, the sun beginning to set behind you illuminating his hazel eyes as they widen.

“Y/n!” Spencer yells, but you’re too slow to react as an arm is tightly holding your neck whilst a knife is being pressed against your back beneath the vest.

“Long time no see, huh, Y/n?” Killian mutters into your ear as he begins to drag you back as you sight against him. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, this can end one of two ways, I prefer to keep this clean.”

“We need back up and medics at 1238 Meadow Lane, I repeat, we need backup. Killian is here, he, he has Y/n.” Saying that through the comms immediately causes his heart to sink as tears fill your eyes.

“We’re coming now,” Hotch announces, and you can hear the sound of sirens across the city as Killian drags you toward the edge of the roof with you in front of him.

“Spence,” You focus on Spencer’s face as his gun remains out, directed at Killian’s head. “what are the statistics of surviving this?” You ask him as a tear falls down your cheek.

“Y/n,” Spencer starts, but you shake your head as you fight against Killian, taking shallow breaths as he continues to apply pressure to your windpipe.

“Please,” You breathe out as Killian chuckles against you. “I need to know.”

The truth of the matter is you know your odds of making it out alive are slim to none, but you wanted to hear Spencer ramble one last time. 

“From a building like this, a ten-story drop your odds aren’t great, in fact, falls from ten-story buildings have a 90% chance of death.” He explains, his gun now shaking in his hand as he pictures you on the ground below, bleeding out. “Those, those who survive can be paralysed if they land on their backs, permanent brain damage from skull fractures or,” Spencer stops himself as Killian focuses on him.

“Do finish Doctor Reid, I’m enjoying this.” Killian states, and you shudder at the fact he’s finding this entertaining.

“In cases like Sylvia, she survived but was left to bleed out.” Spencer finishes, and your eyes widen. “You see, Sylvia wasn’t suicidal like we thought. She was just in the wrong place, wasn’t she, Killian?” Spencer steps closer, but you wince as you can feel the knife starting to pierce your skin.

“No, Sylvia killed herself. I, I saw it.” Killian yells, tightening his grip around your neck as your hands lie limply by your sides. “I would never hurt her.”

“Not intentionally,” Spencer comments. “you were playing, and you knocked her, didn’t you?”

Killian shakes his head. “No! She jumped!” You can feel his heart beating against you. “She jumped and never said goodbye, she left me all alone.” He cries out.

“Killian, I’m sorry.” You manage to say. “It wasn’t your, your fault.”

“She left me here.” He spits at you. “Everyone else moved on, but I was left with the guilt.”

“There’s always another way, Killian.” You speak softly, focusing on Spencer. “But if this is it,” You start, but Spencer shakes his head. “Spencer, I’m so sorry.” You let your tears fall freely down your cheeks as Spencer steps closer.

“Y/n, don’t do this.” Spencer tells you.

“I love you Spence, but please, please be strong for me.” You can feel yourself beginning to slip out of consciousness as Killian continues to apply more pressure around your neck.

“There’s another way out, Killian. I promise you, just let Y/n go.” Spencer is yelling at the top of his lungs as Killian simply laughs.

“You think there’s another option? You sure you’re a Doctor, kid?” Killian scoffs.

“It’ll be okay, Spence,” You fight against the unsubs hold as his arm remains pressed against your neck. “just, don’t give up.”

“Please, let her go!” You can hear the crack in his voice as his gun shakes in his grip, his eyes not leaving yours as tears pool. “You don’t have to do this, there’s another choice for you.”

The unsub scoffs as you wince at he breathes into your ear. “This ends with you.”

Closing your eyes, you embrace the feeling as Killian falls backwards, taking you with him.

“NO!” Spencer screams, running over as Killian lets go of you at the last second.

Spencer grabs a hold of your hand, but within a split second, it slips. “Spence,” You cry out as you hang on to the ledge of the building with all your might.

The sound of Killian hitting the floor only worsens your fear as Spencer begins to pull you up. All you can hear is the sound of your heart in your ears as the sirens dull behind you whilst Spencer is yelling in front of you, yet you can’t hear any of it. 

“Come on, Y/n, stay with me!” Spencer screams as another pair of hands appear by his side.

“Come on, we’ve got you.” Hotch states, pulling you up with Spencer and away from the ledge.

Immediately you fall into Spencer’s arms, your hands gripping his arms as you sob into his chest. “It’s okay, I’m not letting go.” Spencer holds you tightly as he looks up at Hotch, his expression saying more than words can.

“We need a medic!” Hotch yells as three men appear, checking over you as you remain sat with Spencer on the roof, far away from the ledge.

“You’re okay,” Spencer tells you as you go quiet, going into shock as the medics help you out from the building and into the ambulance as your team stands by.

“Oh thank god.” JJ blurts out as Spencer exits the building, enveloping him into a tight hug. “Are you alright?” She checks as she pulls away, but Spencer can’t help himself as he focuses on you in the back of the ambulance, wrapped in foil as the medics check you over.

JJ follows Spencer’s gaze and can’t help but force back her smile.

“Go on, you should be with her.” She assures him, but Spencer pauses.

“Y/n told me she loves me.” Spencer quietly tells JJ who quirks an eyebrow. “You, you knew didn’t you?”

JJ chuckles under her breath. “Spence, we all knew. But she doesn’t know you love her too, does she?”

Spencer shakes his head as he glances back over to you, seeing you being given the all-clear as you begin to rise to your feet.

Immediately, Spencer darts over to help you, his hand resting on your waist as you look up at him. “Spence, I,” You stumble over your words, watching as Killian’s body is being transported away in the body bag.

“Hey, don’t focus on that,” Spencer rests his hand on your cheek. “you’re alive, and I guess you beat the statistic.” He states, listening as you laugh lightly.

“Probably because I didn’t fall.” You add.

“But you almost did, and, and I would never have had the chance to tell you this,” Spencer tells you.

“Tell me what?” You ask, looking up at him with hesitation.

Spencer opens his mouth and after exactly three years, two months and nine days of knowing you and falling in love with you, he cannot find the right words to string together. “In the English language. there are 171,476 words. I’ve only ever needed three of them to tell you how I feel, but I can’t even do that properly.” He laughs uneasily as he focuses on you.

Lifting your hand up, you rest it on the back of his neck as you rise to your tiptoes. “Is this okay?” You whisper.

“More than okay,” Spencer responds before his lips are on yours.

You can hear Rossi cheering in the background as Hotch tries to shush them all but secretly is proud of you both. Having seen the way you gripped Spencer’s shirt when he saved you on that roof, he knew it was about time something would finally happen.

Pulling away from the kiss, you laugh lightly. “I take it the feeling is reciprocated then?” You question, and Spencer smiles.

“I’m never letting you go again.” He mumbles into you as you rest your head against his chest, hoping that promise will remain intact.

[bffsoobin]

fond

➤idol!yeonjun x non!idol reader, pure fluffy goodness, yeonjun gets teased a lot lmao

↳yeonjun has always been a hard worker; reaching above and beyond the expectations of every person he’d even met and even himself. There was only one part of his life he knew was impossible to better--you. In Yeonjun’s eyes, you’d never been anything less than perfect from the day he met you. He never lets you forget it either, even if everyone else was beyond tired of hearing it.

Word Count: 1,501

Requested: yes!

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, very small sprinkle of angst (self-doubt in reader)

A/N: I wrote this super fast so it may not be my best work but it felt really good to get something out and posted again! Love you all, hope you had a happy holiday!

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•

“Are you sure they want me to come?” You asked, shifting anxiously on the balls of your feet. “I mean, it seems like a thing reserved for just the five of you- celebrating the album- and none of the other guys have significant others to bring.” Yeonjun stopped in his tracks, leaving his shirt halfway buttoned up. Gently, he ran his warm hands up and down your arms. The sun had begun to set at some point while you were getting ready, and the light cascading in through the window opposite you washed Yeonjun in a golden ring of light.

You were so distracted by the sight that you almost missed the words coming out of his mouth.

“Baby, the guys love you. And they want you to be there. I promise. I wouldn’t ask you to come if it weren’t true. Hell, I wouldn’t even be going myself if it weren’t true. I’d much rather stay here with you and cuddle.” Your heart softened at his reassurance, anxiety bubbling away from your bloodstream in a few instants. Humming happily, you crushed Yeonjun into a hug that felt as if it could meld your bodies together.

Yeonjun lead you into the reserved restaurant with his fingers linked between yours with such fervor he might as well have glued your palms together. For that you were grateful though, because the party which you’d expected to be just the other boys and a few staff ended up being much more expansive. You spotted several important producers and a few other idols who had the time in their schedule to come and celebrate with their friends. The thrum of your heart kicked up tenfold as Yeonjun lead you through the crowds, eyes turning to him  and his head of bright pink hair immediately. Damn him for always being the man of the hour. The two of you had almost made it to the safety of his table; so close in fact that you saw Soobin waving at you enthusiastically and pointing at a pair of empty seats saved by jackets and hats. Mere feet away, Yeonjun was stopped in his tracks by someone you only recognized vaguely, but knew instantly was of importance. The man was tall, handsome and well dressed, balancing a bottle of beer between his fingers with practiced ease. 

As the two of them chatted about the album and general comeback procedures, you felt yourself becoming more and more out of place. For Yeonjun’s sake you plastered on a gentle smile, nodding along to whatever words were being exchanged between the two of them. 

“...her name?” You caught the tail end of the sentence just in time to see that the man was gazing down at you. You glanced between him and Yeonjun, trying to collect any information as to why you were being addressed. 

“I’m Y/N,” you offered carefully, not sure how they’d arrived at this topic. Yeonjun squeezed your hand reassuringly, running his thumb over the back of your hand.

“Well, I had no idea that Yeonjun had a girlfriend,” the man simpered. “What exactly do you do?” The implication of his words hit you like a MAC truck. What did you do? What did you do to deserve to be here, rubbing elbows with these famed people? 

“She’s a student, actually! She’s always busy with school work or research.” Yeonjun cut in, voice rising protectively. “She pretends it isn’t a big deal, but she’s pretty high up in her department, got all the professors to love her. And she’s on track for a really cool internship- right baby?” He shot the conversation back to you, attempting to ease the tears crawling up your throat.

“Oh, it’s not that big of deal, I don’t know if I got it yet, so-” 

“Shush, it’s amazing. And there’s no doubt in my mind that you’re the most qualified person for the position. You’re amazing,” Yeonjun beamed down at you warmly, a blush cropping up along your cheeks as you fought the urge to cover your face. Yeonjun quickly exchanged his goodbyes with the man and lead you finally to the table where you could take a deep breath. As soon as you settled into the chair next to Soobin, Yeonjun began to apologize in a hushed voice.

“I’m so sorry, I really didn’t think that he would say anything like that. You know that you’re amazing, though, right? I don’t want you to ever believe that I’m not proud of you, or you aren’t amazing because you aren’t an idol. I love how hard you work at school, I love that you aren’t busy with all the stupid idol things that I have to do. You’re such a positive light in my life, such an amazing person. I’m so happy that I know you. Seriously, I can’t imagine not knowing you. You know I love you, right? So much.” Your heart swelled, pumping so rapidly that it felt like it might fall out of your chest. All of the tension you’d felt during the conversation was completely gone, replaced by a pleasant buzz of happiness that only Yeonjun could provide you with. Despite the business within the restaurant, it felt as if you were in your own little bubble with Yeonjun alone, focused only on the gentle cadence of his voice and the steady heat radiating off of his body. His eyes were soft and round even under the concentrated eye makeup you’d helped him apply before leaving your apartment as he watched you carefully. 

“I know, and I love you too,” a smile split your face before you could stop it, straining the muscles in your cheeks until they stung. 

“Trust me, Y/N. We all know.” Taehyun laughed, causing the other three to nod in agreement. 

“Seriously, he literally talks about how much he loves you all the time. Sometimes even in his sleep he’s asking where you are-” 

“Hey! Stop it, you little-” Yeonjun growled, sending a menacing look toward Taehyun. 

“No! Keep it coming, tell me more,” happy to encourage the teasing of your boyfriend, you leaned back in your chair and picked at the shared plate of fries that had appeared in the middle of the table at some moment. 

“Oh, there was that one time we were in the studio and we couldn’t find him anywhere, like we even sent managers out to find him and everything and it turned out he got caught up talking with some random lady outside about you because he saw her carrying a bag you’d like.” Beomgyu offered, eyes sparkling at the chance to make fun of Yeonjun freely.

“Or the time when we were trying to film an episode of TO DO and he kept checking his phone because he was waiting for you to send a good morning text. The stylists were so mad that he refused to take his phone out of his pocket and they had to give him a top that would cover them.” Soobin jumped in this time, grinning just as wide as you were at the realization that Yeonjun was much more whipped for you than you’d ever estimated. 

“And lets not forget literally any time we have extra time at the dorm and want to watch a movie or play a game. He literally always asks if he can invite you. At one point it was like nine days straight and when we said we’d rather not have a guest he pouted in his room instead of playing with us.” Your eyes grew wide with recognition at the story, as you remembered the exact time Soobin was referring to. You had, quite honestly, grown tired of visiting the dorm every single night after class but you did it anyway for the sake of spending time with Yeonjun. 

“Did you guys know that he came to my apartment that night and complained that you were being mean to him?” Yeonjun whined loudly at your words, burying his flaming face into his own hands and letting out a defeated groan. He knew it was all true, and he was no stranger to admitting his attachment to you, but hearing it all at once made him shy. 

“It’s okay, Junnie. You know I love how whipped you are for me,” you teased, rubbing the nape of his neck with delicate fingers in an attempt to get his head off of the table. 

“I am not whipped!” He protests, sitting back up and trying his best to glare at you and his members. His face was still tinged with red, evidence of being caught in a lie. 

‘If you’re not whipped, then what would you call it, hyung?” Hueningkai questioned, taking a poignant sip of his drink all while keeping his gaze locked onto Yeonjun. The entire table, sans Yeonjun, snickered together as he opened and closed his mouth in quick succession, trying to find the right words. 

“I’m not whipped. I’m just...fond.”

[theravenclawlover]

Welcome to the Industry of Porn

Paring: Avengers X Female!Reader

Warnings: +18, heavy smut, drinking, slight angst in later chapters, fluff if you squint, and my English as usual.

Word Count: 3,101.

Summary: AU where the Avengers are Pornstars. It’s pretty self-explanatory.

Chapter: 6.

Chapter Title: Metal Fingers and Flexible Girl.

A/N: I gotta admit, I did a lot of changing for this chapter. That's why it took me so long to get it ready, and also I've been actually reading from the stack of books I have. I finally got around to finishing "The Outsider" by Stephen King, I liked it.

"You gotta be shitting me?" said Cassie as she looked at you incredulously while a small grin played on her lips.

"Why are you making it sound like it's a bad thing," said Bucky as he raised his hands in the air, but then he grinned, "I am really good at my job, thank you very much."

"Jerk," said Cassie as she rolled her eyes at him.

"Nobody's questioning your job, I just didn't think Stark was going to be putting me with the ones that have more time here? I thought maybe the other way around. You know what I mean?" you said as you looked around with your cheeks turning a bit red.

"Oh, so you wanted easy, like Spidey or maybe even Scott?" asked Natasha as she laid her head on Steve's thighs. The man blushed lightly as one of his hands went to her hair. They had told you that they weren't dating, but you and Cassie—even Bucky—were eighty-five percent sure something was up.

You blushed a little as you nodded but you shrugged not sure if telling them that it didn't matter or yourself.

"It doesn't really matter, but it was my way of thinking like 'baby steps'. But I think I'll be fine with Robocop over there," you said you stuck your tongue at him which turned into a smile. He rolled his eyes at the overused nickname, but he couldn't help himself but smile when you did.

He just knew it was going to be fun.

When the morning came to officially start working at Avengers, you woke up feeling a little bit nervous, yet a weird wave of excitement came with it and you were sure why. You've seen the man naked more times than you can count with both your hands, and you knew what he could do; you've seen that from your phone and from that one time you got to see Steve and Bucky go at it, granted, it had been a little because they used that prosthetic hand that looked somewhat real—he liked his metal one better after he grew to see it as a good thing and not a bad thing. You were nervous because you were only a couple of hours away from having the man fuck you in front of cameras, but the excitement was because the man was about to fuck you not just with his dick, no, those fingers were more than ready to be inside of you and that was enough motivation to get your body ready.

You walked into the kitchen to find Wanda, Natasha, Cassie, Peggy, and Gamora eating breakfast as they conversed.

"…that way the outfits don't clash, oh hey sleepy head, good morning," said Cassie as she saw walk toward the pantry door.

"Morning, what were you guys talking about?" you asked as you took out your favorite cereal.

"Cassie has this idea for our photoshoot tomorrow, and is pitching the idea to us before she goes to the makeup and costume department," said Gamora in her soft yet hard voice.

"Oh, fun," you said as you set your bowl on the kitchen island and took a seat between Wanda and Cassie.

"Are you nervous to get Barnes all to yourself," asked Peggy with a salacious grin. You shifted on your stool as all eyes turned to you.

"Nervous, but I'm sure I'm not the only one that's probably gotten a little nervous about having a one on one with him," you said with a small shrug.

"You are the first one aside from Rogers to get to fuck him as a one on one. Sure, we all have fucked Barnes once or twice but there's always more people involved," said Natasha as she sipped her orange juice. You stared at her with wide eyes at the new information.

"So that's why he was all grins last night," said Cassie as an afterthought.

"Well, now I'm even more nervous."

"Just think about his metal hand and you'll be fine." Peggy still held that damn salacious grin.

"Alright, we are going to pick up the scene from the point you open the door."

Anthony and Joe were both talking to you and Bucky as they directed the new scene which was the one that contained the sex scene that you had been dreading yet awaiting with utmost want.

"So, we're good?" asked Joe a last time before heading to his directing chair. You and Bucky nodded and then walked to your positions.

"Silence in set…and…ACTION!"

You opened the unlocked door of the apartment, gun in hand as you were ready to fire in case anyone jumped to attack you. Your eyes roamed the room quickly and noticed that it was clear, but something told you that the whole apartment was not. You had been sent to follow one of the many leads SHIELD had on the Winter Soldier. With cautious steps, you moved around the room and checked any room that you thought he could be, but as you moved to walk past the kitchen a foot knocked your gun off your hand. Before you could fight back, the man you had been looking for tackled you to the clear space of the living room. You grunted as you landed on your side, but quickly recovered and elbowed the man on the face. It startled him for a second, but it was enough for you to push him with your feet as you turned on your back. He landed backwards but his hand was right next to your gun which he grabbed and aimed at you, but you quickly kicked it back and sent it to the kitchen behind him. And then your knee met his jaw. You ran past him toward the kitchen to grab your gun, but the man got up faster than you could run, and he grabbed you by the waist and dragged you to the kitchen island where he threw you against, making you let out a grunt as your tummy connected with the border of it.

"Who the fuck are you and what do you want?" he growled right next to your ear which made you shiver.

"I was just sent here to be of help, Captain America has been looking for you for a while now," you said as you struggled under him. He was pressing his whole body on top of yours while his metal hand took a hold of your head from slamming it against his face.

"Fuck the guy a couple of times and now he wants to bring him to his place," he said with almost a chuckle in the back of his throat.

"Fine, don't come with me but there are others that are also looking for you and I'm sure they will not be as nice and good looking as me," you said as you relaxed under him because you were starting to ache all over. Sensing your body relax made him relax which had his hips lower down to touch your ass.

"is that a gun or are you actually happy to see me?"

The man groaned as you pushed your ass against his groin. He grabbed ahold of your hair and pulled your head back that way you were able to see his face.

"Don't do that," he growled so close to your face that some of his spit landed on your cheeks, but you couldn't help the wicked grin that spread on your lips as your eyes looked at his dark ones that made his deep blue eyes a lot more alluring.

"Why? Am I getting you too excited, Soldier?" you pushed yourself harder against him and this time he pushed back. It made him close his eyes momentarily at the friction, but you had seen it and it had sent a ridiculous amount of slick down to your underwear.

"You wouldn't be able to handle me, princess." He had meant it to sound like a warning, but it only made you take it as a challenge.

"Trust me, you won't hurt me, I'm a big girl."

It seemed it had been enough teasing for the man because as soon as you said those words with the dirtiest grin directed at him, he turned you around and pulled you into a bruising kiss. He still had you pinned down which made it impossible for you to roam your fingers through his long hair, and the kiss had you practically moaning with need.

"Only a kiss and you ready to be on your knees," he said as he literally pushed you down to be on your knees. You happily waited for him to take his cock from its tight confinement.

"You're probably not that big, sweetheart," you said in a mocking tone, and you knew you were just making the man build up until he snapped and used you in all the ways he wanted.

He didn't respond with his words, but rather with the presence of his cock right in front of your face.

"Nothing to say now? Open up, princess," he practically purred with a grin as you obediently did. Your eyes followed the movement of his hand as he grabbed the thick and long cock and guided the tip of it inside your waiting mouth and tongue.

The dirtiest, sluttiest, and neediest sound erupted from your throat as the taste of his pre-cum touched your taste buds. You grabbed the base of his cock as your other hand grabbed his balls while your mouth eagerly sucked him off.

"Fuck, someone's eager," he gasped with his head thrown back as your mouth had him in the clouds.

His hands were on your hair as he helped you down his cock when you started to take him down your throat and his eyes were on you. But when you looked up at him, he could've cum, because your eyes were teary, a little red, cheeks red, sweaty, and your lips were wrapped around the girth and length of his cock.

With a whine as you sucked on his tip, he pulled you up before he could cum, and you stumbled a little as he turned you on your stomach and bent you over the same spot you had been previously pinned. His big hands roamed your body before both hands landed a nice smack to each asscheek which made you yelp but at the same time, your ass was ready for more if he wanted. Instead, he took a hold of your pants and dragged them down your legs, revealing the soaked garment of your underwear. He pulled your legs apart and kneeled down, his hands—one cold and one warm—spread your cheeks open, and as you bit your lips expectantly, his tongue met your soaked sex. You moaned as his tongue greedily explored your lower lips. He was eating you out like a starved man, tongue lapping at you, lips sucking the best he could, but the second you saw stars was when the cold hand that was helping him spread your cheeks for him, slowly made a path down your thigh and then up toward your clenching hole. You were moaning, your head kept lolling to the side as if you couldn't find a comfortable position, and your hands were clawing at the flat marble while your eyes were shut tight. But when his cold metallic fingers started to tease you as he lapped at your tight asshole, you shrieked at the harsh contrast from all the warmth that you were feeling.

"Oh fuck, please," you whined as his metal fingers kept teasing you, never fully dipping inside of you.

"So needy," said the brunet as he smirked when he pulled back to see how his fingertips glistened from the silk he was collecting. You whined when you felt his hands leave you, but then you moaned when two of his fingers plunged inside of you with a slow thrust which made you feel the stretch more than if he had just gone for it.

"You take my fingers so good, doll," he groaned as he saw how your pussy sucked his fingers in greedily. He was obsessing over the sounds you were making, the way your slick dripped down whenever his fingers tried to pull back, the way your legs were quivering as you tried to keep steady, and the way you kept muttering things to either him or yourself had him grinning like a mad man. He was obsessing over how much he wanted to grab you and fuck you senseless, but not before you came around his fingers. Good thing you were close.

"That's it, gorgeous, cum around my fingers, I bet they feel really good," he said before he gave a bit to the lower part of your asscheek which made you yelp, but it might have also been because of the ways his fingers picked up speed. You tried with all your might to keep your legs open, but when all the build-up finally snapped, your knees buckled under you. The Soldier noticed before you could collapse, kept you steady, and his fingers moved so fast that the squealing of your pussy drowned the shriek that came out of you when you came around his fingers.

"Fuck, doll, that's it," he grunted as some of your cum landed on his lips and cheeks due to the rapid motion of his fingers. He waited until you were breathing alright before he pulled his fingers out of you. He stood up and turned you around, your eyes were hooded, and a small smile was on your lips.

"Open up, princess." You opened your mouth obediently as his soaked fingers went for your mouth. You moaned obscenely when the taste of you was on your tongue, and your eyes never broke contact with him as he stared at the way you sucked his fingers off like you had his cock not long ago.

He picked you up and sat you on the kitchen island, and he positioned himself between your opened legs and pulled you down for another bruising kiss. You pulled back as he took the rest of your clothes off while your hands did the same to him. In no time both of you were fully naked and panting into each other's mouth. He pushed you back against the cold marble, your legs wide open for him and he grabbed ahold of one of your legs while with his other hand grabbed his cock to tease your sensitive sex.

"Look at you—" he inserted the tip of his cock which made you whine at the stretch it gave, "—you've only had my mouth and my tongue and you're already dazed out. You sure you can take my cock, baby girl?"

"How about you fuck me already, all this talk is making me believe you're scared your cock won't be enough," you said as you held a glare that only made the man growl and push the rest of his thick cock inside of you.

You both groaned loudly, and not letting you adjust to his size, the man started to savagely thrust into you, one leg held by his metal hand while your other legs hung in the air. You took ahold of it, and pull it down from your ankle, that way you spread yourself even more.

"Fuck, look at that—" the man let go of your leg "—hold it too."

You obeyed, and now you held your legs wide almost like a full split while the Soldier grabbed you by the waist while he proceeded to bury his cock with a hard and deep pace. His eyes were glued to the sight of his whole cock going in to then come out fully slicked of your juices. You looked at him to see how his eyes roamed your pussy and his dick which made you blush but due to your already flushed skin, it went unnoticed. It seemed he was hypnotized by you, and with that in mind, you pulled your legs down to the point you were now doing a full split on the kitchen island.

"Oh fuck," he whined as the sight of you became too much for his mind to withhold. He was fucking you harshly and you could only take it all and before you knew it, you were cumming with a shout of a 'shit' as you struggled to keep your legs spread while two of his fingers found your clit.

The man was speaking but just watching you squirm, moan, whine, and curse while you came around his cock. He couldn't hold his own orgasm anymore and after a couple of harsh thrusts, he pulled out, and with the loud grunt, he came all over your spread legs, torso, and a little over your tits.

You kept your legs spread like that for a minute as you came down from your own high.

"You know, I still need to bring you in," you said as you slowly shifted into a sitting position. The man only stood in front of you, eyes roaming your body, looking at your cum-covered body.

"He thinks because I'm now free of HYDRA's control I'm going to go with him and try to be better?" he asked with an annoyed expression, "there's nothing aside from him there."

"That's not entirely true," you tilted your head with a grin on your lips, "as far as I'm concerned, now we are friends, and by the way, I'm Agent Violet."

"You make it sound like you fuck your friends," he said with a huff for a laugh as he approached you.

"Well," you shrugged as he pecked your lips, "we just like to enjoy the moment."

"You really know how to sell what your selling."

"CUT," shouted Joe, "print it, that's in."

"That was perfect you two," said Anthony as he approached you and Bucky while both of you were handed a robe which you took with a smile.

"Thank you."

"No need for a reshoot later, the rest of the day should just be the other scenes and we'll call it a day until tomorrow," said Joe as he stood next to Antony.

He let both you and Bucky go and get clean up before the next scene.

By the end of the day, you were ready to collapse on your bed and sleep till the next morning. Which you weren't sure if you were ready for, after all, Thor was a bigger guy than Bucky.

Welcome to the Industry taglist:

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Permanent taglist:

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[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Seventeen

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: 70% of this fic is written on my phone lying on my side in bed while using swipe typing bc im too lazy to type out words and it shows

TW: discussion of SA

***

Nesta has an easier time adjusting to a third person in the cabin than she thought she would. Maybe it’s because Azriel indeed minds his business, and half the time Nesta isn’t aware he’s there at all.

Cassian seems to be more irritated by it than anyone else—not his brother, of course, but the fact that he and Nesta no longer exist in their own little bubble. Which is how he ends up at Nesta’s apartment with an overnight bag, sprawled out stomach-down on her mattress while she gets ready for bed.

“TV show or movie?” he asks, clicking through her laptop. Shows are Nesta’s thing and movies are Cassian’s; she feels generous enough tonight to say, “Movie.”

“Thank god,” he mutters, typing something on the laptop. “There’s a Turkish horror flick that I was saving for you.”

“Where do you even find these films?” Grabbing her hairbrush, she flops onto the bed beside him and starts brushing out her brassy locks. Before he can answer, Nesta’s phone buzzes from the stool she uses as a bedside table. Feyre’s name flashes on the screen.

Nesta frowns, but picks up without a second thought. “What is it?”

“Nothing serious,” her sister replies. “Just checking in.”

Before Cassian, Nesta didn’t very much understand the purpose of “checking in” without reason. Now she empathizes with Feyre a little. “I’m fine,” she says.

Deciding she can do better than that, she adds, “Cassian and I are about to start a movie.”

“Is it his choice? I’m so sorry for you.”

Nesta peeks over to where Cassian is still intently searching for his obscure movie and smiles a little. “I like Turkish horror,” she replies.

Cassian overhears and grins approvingly.

“Well, I’m looking at wedding dresses with Rhys so he can prepare for when he inevitably proposes,” Feyre says. “In case you wanted to know.”

Nesta did not particularly want to know, but she doesn’t say this. “Sounds fun. Is that it?”

“For what?”

“This conversation.”

Feyre sighs over the line. “Yes, I’ll let you go now. Thanks for picking up.”

The bar is in hell, Nesta thinks. Mostly because she put it there, but she still feels embarrassed to be congratulated over such small things. “Thanks for keeping it short.”

She’s about to hang up when she hears a male voice speak up in the background, and Feyre interrupts, “Wait—before you go, can you tell Cassian to call Rhys back? He wants Cass’s help picking a new team leader for the Italy project.”

Nesta has no idea what that is, but she says, “Sure, fine.” They say their goodbyes and hang up.

“What’d she want?” Cassian says without looking over at her.

“She said Rhys wants you to call him about the Italy project.”

Cassian turns toward her, half sitting up. “Really? What for?”

“Something about picking a team leader.” She returns to brushing her hair. “Why? What’s the Italy project?”

“Something I thought we put aside for good,” he grumbles. “It’s a year-long overseas project in Milan. Rhys thinks it’s gonna bring in a shit ton of money.”

“Sounds big. What do you have to do with it, though?” She’s never heard of Cassian being involved in Night Court’s international operations, even though he takes on more work than the usual employee.

Cassian shrugs, going back to movie searching. “He wanted me to be the one leading the team, and I guess he still feels petty about me turning him down. Honestly, choosing team leaders outside of my department isn’t even part of my jurisdiction.”

Nesta hesitates. “He offered you the job? When?” She didn’t know this.

“On New Year’s.”

“And you turned it down?”

“Yeah.” Cassian clicks on a link that looks like it’ll plant fifteen different viruses in Nesta’s laptop. “Found the movie,” he says.

“Why would you do that?” Nesta demands.

“The movie?”

“The job offer! Why would you turn down such a big opportunity without even telling me?”

Cassian laughs in confusion. “Are you angry right now?”

She’s astonished at his nonchalance. “Cassian,” she says. “It’s Italy.”

Italy with the art and history and seaside beauty—it’s on their top five places to see before they die.

“It’s Milan,” he says like there’s a difference, “and it’s an entire year away from you.” He shakes his head, sitting up to face her. “Are you out of your mind?”

She goes still. “Don’t tell me you said no because of me.”

“Of course I said no because of you.”

“It’s your dream job!” she bursts. “Traveling, exploring, being on your own—”

“Those are our dreams. I made those plans with you. The hell am I supposed to do all the way in Italy without you?”

“You sound codependent,” she retorts.

He narrows his brows. “Like you wouldn’t do the same thing in my position?”

He’s right, of course. Nesta would do the exact same thing for him. But Nesta and Cassian are not the same, and they both know it. “You can’t make that comparison,” she sighs.

“Why not?” he demands.

“Because—” She struggles to put it into words. “I would give up a long distance job for you because it would be worth it. You’re worth it. It doesn’t work the other way around.”

“Again: why the fuck not?”

So he’s really going to make her spell it out. “Because you’re a good boyfriend. You’re affectionate and caring, you always go the extra mile for those you love, and you come with all these free perks. It’s a great deal. And I’m not anything terrible, but I’m the bare minimum compared to you. Why would you give up Italy for the bare minimum?”

Cassian looks at her in disbelief. “I don’t even know how you can say so many wrong things in a row.”

“He’s blinded by love,” Nesta mutters to herself.

“First of all,” he holds up a finger, “I don’t know where you learned to compare yourself to me, but I don’t like it. You make it sound like I need to be paid back for every half-decent thing I do, and that is not the case at all.”

“Of course you think that,” she says. “You wouldn’t be a good person if you didn’t.”

“Then let me be a blunt person.” He puts a hand on her knee and looks her in the eye. “You will never be like me. Very few people are; you can’t take it personally.”

“Oh my god.” Her eyes might roll out of her head.

“But you’re not the bare minimum. Not even close.” He states it like an undeniable fact.

“How so?” she challenges.

“Like how Elain told me about this boy who broke her heart in her high school, and how the next day he walked into class in a leg cast. And how she just knew you had something to do with it, and you two had a huge fight about it that lasted a week.”

Nesta does not enjoy that memory being brought up. Elain called her a psychopath for the incident, and to save her feelings, Nesta (rather unconvincingly) said it had been an accident.

“I didn’t push anybody into a creek,” she maintains the lie. “Sometimes people just fall down there.”

“To be fair, you’re a lot more stable now than you were then. Now when people hurt those you care about, you find sneakier ways to hurt them back. Don’t you?”

“I do not,” Nesta defends.

“Really? Because Eris texted me earlier saying you’ve been ignoring him since New Year’s, and he’s starting to get worried that you have something heinous planned for him. I asked him why he would ever think such a thing of you.” Cassian leans forward and rests his chin on her shoulder. “Why would he think such a thing of you, Nesta?”

Cassian looks pretty well off from here, doesn’t he? She remembers Eris’s smug face. Did you know Rhysand’s parents found him sleeping in the streets?

“Because he said a bad thing,” Nesta says, looking down at her fingernails. “And I have an unfortunate reputation at school for getting back at people who say bad things.” Like the time Brian O’Connell made jokes about a rape trial the class was studying, and then couldn’t find an internship at a single firm the following summer.

“And what did he say? Because I can’t imagine he would directly insult you. He actually likes you, ass that he is.” His face is warm so close to her neck.

She looks away. “I won’t repeat it.”

That seems to be all Cassian needs to get an idea of what Eris said. “And how long are you planning on holding it against him?”

“Forever.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Nesta meets the eyes that haven’t left her face this entire time and snorts. “What’s your point?” Seriously, she’s starting to redden at how close he is.

He buries his face in her neck, his stubble rasping against the sensitive skin there. “The point is that you also do a lot for the people you love. Just in a different way.” He pulls away to look her in the eye. “Don’t do anything to Eris, though,” he says. “Not that I care for him or his shit opinions, but whatever you have planned isn’t worth it.”

Nesta wants to scoff in disbelief at the sincerity on Cassian’s face. He’s always choosing kindness, even at the worst moments. “So that’s your argument?” she says. “You won’t go to Italy because your girlfriend has a bad temper and a taste for revenge?”

“That’s my final argument, Your Honor.” He takes her hand. “Forget Milan, will you? One day I’ll take you to Portofino.”

The longer Nesta knows Cassian, the more she finds it useless to hide from him. Which is why she lets him watch the thoughts flit across her face as she considers his words, deciding whether she believes him. Deciding whether he’s right to give her so much devotion.

“Fine,” she finally says. “You’re right.”

A slow smile spreads across his face as he realizes he won. Wrapping his arms around Nesta’s waist and legs, he hauls her into his lap and shifts around until they’re both comfortable. The movie is forgotten for now.

“Out of curiosity…” He noses at the nape of her neck. “What did Eris say about me to make you so angry?”

When Nesta doesn’t answer, he says, “I’ve already heard everything that could possibly be said. The shit that used to get me when I was eighteen doesn’t have the same hold on me a decade later.”

She lets herself relax into his hold. “It was about the time you spent as an orphan.” Technically, he’s still an orphan, but it was different back then. “I didn’t like the tone of his voice.”

Cassian’s answering hum is a low rumble against her shirt. “Did you know my biological father was from Italy?”

Nesta perks up at that. “No.” She assumed he was entirely Algerian, even though he and Azriel probably look ethnically ambiguous to most. “Isn’t that all the more reason to see Italy someday?”

“Not at all,” he says. “If I could pretend that half of me didn’t exist, I would.”

She can’t think of a response that doesn’t involve a question, so she doesn’t reply. She waits for Cassian to speak on his own terms.

“I went to Italy once,” he admits. “For less than a day while my brothers were partying in Monte Carlo. I was young and stupid, and thought I would never be complete if I didn’t know who my father was.”

“Who was he?” She doesn’t know why she’s whispering.

“No one worth remembering,” Cassian says, his arms unconsciously tightening around her. “I put some dots together and realized how he and my mother must have met, how he must’ve—forced himself on her, and I decided that I didn’t care about bloodlines at all. I never returned to Italy after that.”

Nesta’s hands want to reach out and touch him, soothe him. But her muscles are suddenly very cold, and she can only stiffen. “And what about now? Do you… not want to go back?”

“It’s just a place to me,” he says. “Nothing special, nothing terrible. But I like the way it sounds when you talk about it.” His eyes sparkle. “I’d like to pretend it’s my first time going with you.”

“Alright, then.” She nods. “One day, we’ll go together. It’ll be our first time.”

***

Cassian refuses to let Nesta leave bed the next morning, dragging his heavy mouth across her body whenever she tries to get up. She’s about to surrender to him altogether when her phone starts vibrating loudly, insistently.

Breaking away from Cassian’s attempt at cuddling, she answers without checking the caller ID. “Yes?” she croaks sleepily.

“Where the hell have you been?” Emerie demands.

Nesta shoves Cassian away despite his protests, untangling her legs from the sheets. “At home,” she says, getting out of bed and heading for the bathroom. “Am I supposed to be somewhere else?”

“We haven’t seen you in two weeks,” Emerie says. “Gwyn thought your boyfriend’s weird family killed you.”

“That’s not what happened,” Nesta assures, pulling her shorts down and sitting on the toilet. “I just needed some alone time.” People are all around her these days, it seems. Her body still can’t quite adjust to it.

“Well, have you had enough—are you peeing?”

“Yeah.” She wipes and flushes the toilet.

“Well, clear your day and kick your sorry boyfriend out of your place. I can’t remember the last time I went out.”

“Why does everybody always want to go out?” Nesta says as she washes her hands. “What’s wrong with staying in, being safe, never leaving the house?” She dries her hands on a towel and returns to the bedroom, where Cassian is now sitting up and checking his emails.

“You’re preaching to the choir, but this actually wasn’t my idea,” Emerie says.

Nesta and Cassian alert at the sound of a knock from the front door. Nesta never has uninvited guests.

“Hold on a second, Em,” she says, jogging up the short set of steps to the door. She opens it to the sight of an exasperated-looking Gwyn.

“Jeez, next time send a text that you’re alive, will you?” Gwyn says, shoving past Nesta to enter the apartment. “Do you know how worried I’ve been—” She halts midsentence, one foot hovering above a step as she realizes that Nesta isn’t alone. As she sees Cassian in her bed, bare-chested and highly amused.

“Hey.” He raises a hand in greeting.

Gwyn pales.

“Hello?” Emerie calls over the line.

“You girls both share the same brain,” Nesta sighs. “Let me call you back, Emerie.”

Gwyn whirls around just as Nesta hangs up. “That won’t be necessary,” she says quickly, looking embarrassed. “I’ll be outside. I’m sorry.”

She hurries out of the apartment even faster than she came in, ducking her head to hide her face.

Nesta tosses her arms up in the air. “Great,” she says to Cassian. “Your abs scared her away.”

“But I didn’t do anything—”

She shuts the door behind her as she follows Gwyn outside, barefoot and all. She barely notices the freezing cold air or the awful press of damp grass beneath her feet as she catches up to Gwyn and grabs her elbow. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Gwyn jerks suddenly, yanking out of Nesta’s hold. Her breathing seems a little shallow, and she looks even more embarrassed for it. “It’s nothing. I just didn’t know you had someone over.”

“Cassian? He’s cool, you don’t need to be weird about him,” she tries to reassure Gwyn. “Though I did use to tell him that not everybody wants to see him shirtless all the time.”

“It’s not that,” Gwyn says, waving her off.

Nesta gestures to the apartment. “Do you want to come back inside, then? I’m sure he has clothes on by now.”

Gwyn clears her throat uncomfortably and looks down. “I’d rather not. I’m—I don’t like being around men.”

Nesta pauses, not sure if she heard right. “Like, in a ‘check the backseat of your car before getting in’ way, or…?”

“No, like I can’t be alone in a room with a man without feeling sick. It activates my fight or flight, it’s weird.” She’s carefully stiff, like she’s ready to be met with humiliation.

Nesta remembers that Gwyn has never told her about her therapy sessions before, but she knows they’re more intensive than her own weekly conversations with Lana.

“Not that I think your boyfriend is a bad person,” Gwyn adds when Nesta doesn’t respond. “He looks really nice. He sounds nice, too.”

But Nesta doesn’t care about any of that. Unsure of what to do next, she reaches out and awkwardly pats Gwyn on the arm. “Good thing you’ve never been to the cabin, then. Cassian’s brother is staying…” She trails off when she realizes none of this is relevant. “Why are you here so early?” she asks instead.

Gwyn eases up a little at the change in subject. “I missed you. We’ve barely talked since Christmas.”

Nesta didn’t realize people would take such notice to her absence. “Yeah.” She flushes. “I do that sometimes. I’ll send a message next time I go into hibernation, though.”

“You’re freezing,” Gwyn suddenly scolds, noticing how Nesta’s goosebumped arms are wrapped tightly around herself. She unzips her red hoodie and shrugs it off. “Go back inside and get dressed.” She flings the hoodie around Nesta’s shoulders before Nesta can protest. “Meet me at my car. We’re hanging out.”

Nesta knows that a last minute change of events is not the end of the world, even if it sometimes feels like it. For Gwyn and Emerie, she can bear the discomfort of unexpected plans, same as she does for Cassian. But she at least has to know: “How long will we be out?”

“You can come home after lunch.” At Nesta’s face, Gwyn adds, “Lunch will be at two and shouldn’t take more than an hour.”

Looking her friend up and down, someone who has such an easy time understanding her, Nesta nods in satisfaction. She turns around to go back inside.

***

They end up at the library where Gwyn works, in the stacks of the long-abandoned encyclopedia section.

Emerie takes a loud sip from the huge McDonald’s soda she snuck in. “So all this show was because Gwyn didn’t want to work her shift alone?”

“I just have some last minute cleanup to do,” she hisses for the third time, shoving an old book back where it belongs. “Go to the porn section if you’re so bored here.”

“Oh, I definitely will,” Emerie says. “But I’m glad that we’re congregating now, even if it’s in the most depressing part of the library. I have a present for you girls.” She hands Nesta her drink so she can dig around in her purse.

Nesta personally has no complaints. The library is quiet, it smells of paper and old ink, and it holds all her favorite books. It’s almost better than staying in.

Emerie successfully pulls out a handful of folded and wrinkled papers from her bag, smoothing them out as best she can. “One for each of us,” she says, passing the papers around.

Nesta takes her paper and stares at the header. Gwyn is the first to speak. “Pole dancing classes?”

“Why?” Nesta says.

“Well, I originally offered them to Justinian and Isaac but they said no—”

“It’s really not for me,” Gwyn interrupts, trying to pass the registration form back to Emerie. “Sorry.”

Nesta doesn’t give her form back.

“Look,” Emerie says. “I get the hesitation. We’re a handful of boring bitches who hate having fun. But don’t you think that has to change at some point?”

“I’ve known you guys a month,” Gwyn retorts. “We’ve only been boring bitches for a month. This is too much.” She turns to Nesta for help.

Nesta is still staring at the paper. Dancing—on a pole, yes, but it’s still dancing. “I’ll do it,” she says.

Gwyn looks betrayed and Emerie looks elated. “Really?” She hops up and down. “That’s two against one, Gwyn. You have to do it, too.”

Gwyn’s cheeks are turning red in frustration. “You can’t just force this on me—”

“Gwyneth,” a sharp voice interrupts their conversation. Nesta spins around to find a young woman with dark skin and bleached white curls heading in their direction, a stack of books in her arms.

She halts before Nesta and glares. “No food or drink in the library.” She looks pointedly at the 32-ounce in her hand.

“It’s not mine.” Nesta shoves the drink back to Emerie.

But the librarian has turned to Gwyn, who hides the dance class form behind her back. “And what are you doing here?” she demands.

“Just putting up a few books, Merrill,” Gwyn answers quickly.

“While socializing?” the woman named Merrill sneers.

“We were just asking for help finding the romance section. Is that a problem?” Emerie crosses her arms and steps forward, letting a little of her beautiful deadliness slip into her stance. It’s the deadliness of someone at the top of her law class, someone who will graduate in a few months with all the power she could want in the palm of her hand. Nesta gets a rush from playing the lawyer game, too, but she’s never had the kind of ambition that Emerie has. Emerie is a shark sitting around in a small pond.

Merrill is not impressed. She snatches the styrofoam cup dangling from Emerie’s hand and tosses it in the nearby trash can. She turns back to Gwyn. “Hand your badge over and clock out.”

“But I’m not done yet—”

“Now.”

“Okay,” she squeaks. She pulls her ID badge off her neck and hands it to Merrill.

Nesta gapes in disbelief. Before she can speak up, Merrill says, “No loitering in the library. If you don’t have anything you need to check out, leave.” With one final judgmental look, she turns down an aisle of dusty books and disappears.

Gwyn makes a face at her back.

“That woman is not old enough to be acting that misanthropic,” Emerie says after Merrill is gone.

“Whatever,” Gwyn mutters. The registration form is still in her hand. She crumples it into a ball and throws it into the trash. “Let’s get out of here.”

Nesta stares at the trash as Gwyn turns to leave. “Coward,” she says.

Gwyn’s head snaps toward Nesta, her auburn hair swinging. “Excuse me?”

She shrugs. “You heard me.” Emerie’s eyes bounce back and forth between the girls.

“I did,” Gwyn says. “I was just making sure this wasn’t coming from the woman who would sooner bite someone’s head off than do something she doesn’t want to.”

“Girls,” Emerie snaps before Nesta can bite back. “It’s just a stupid dance class. I thought it would be fun to do together, but it doesn’t matter anymore.” Taking Gwyn by one arm and Nesta by the other, she starts steering them out of the stacks like a stern mother. “Now let’s go eat. I’m fucking hungry.”

Gwyn’s mood from the library doesn’t recover, even as they sit down for lunch at the local diner. Nesta thinks Gwyn might actually be sick when the male waiter winks at her while taking her order, and it’s not until long after he’s gone that color returns to her face. When their food arrives, Gwyn only picks at her plate.

“What’s wrong?” Nesta finally has to ask bluntly. “You look pukey.” Did the coward comment affect Gwyn more than she let on, or was it Merrill’s attitude that threw her off?

At Nesta’s words, Gwyn becomes even more pallid. “I just don’t feel great today,” she murmurs, looking around like she’s seeking a way out of the diner. “Sorry guys, I didn’t mean to be such a buzzkill. Maybe I should go home early.”

“Absolutely not,” Emerie says. “If you’re going home, we’re going home with you.”

Gwyn bites her lip, trying to decide if she wants that or not. But something about her antsy demeanor is too familiar to Nesta, because she says, “If you really want to be alone, do you mind driving me home first? Emerie’s car is a mess.”

“You just need to move around a few papers,” Emerie protests.

But Gwyn nods distractedly, already gathering her things. “Sure, no problem.” They pay the bill and go their separate ways.

During the ride home, the sky that’s been gray all day finally breaks open, unleashing a spattering of rain over the town. Nesta watches it sprinkle while Gwyn drives in silence.

“Why are you scared of Merrill?” she eventually asks. “She doesn’t look much older than you.”

Gwyn snorts, but there isn’t much heart to it. “Merrill is my superior, but I can handle her on most days.”

“Just not today?”

Gwyn eyes Nesta warily from the corner of her eye. “No, not today. Or this week.”

Nesta chooses not to push. The dull metal of the cars surrounding them glints under the rain, and they arrive at a red light.

After a minute, she takes a breath and blurts, “I’m not always like that around guys, you know.”

Nesta watches her closely, remembering how ghostly she seemed around Cassian, then the waiter. “Keep going.”

Gwyn stares straight at the traffic ahead, her fingers turning bone white on the steering wheel. “I’m just going through a hard period. Everything upsets me and I don’t know how to think straight. It’s like my brain accidentally traveled to the past and now it’s stuck there.” She sounds shaky, breathless, and it makes Nesta wonder what exactly her mind is experiencing.

Nesta knows what it’s like to be unable to move on. Her own brain has only recently started looking toward the future. “Where are you stuck, specifically?” she asks hesitantly. Maybe she can help Gwyn navigate her way out.

Gwyn’s chin quivers. “In a dark room.” Her lips form a tight line. “Being held down. I’m outnumbered.”

Nesta’s stomach turns. “How far back is it?”

“Two years,” Gwyn whispers. “Lately I can’t even look at anything without—remembering it. Thinking about it. Every time I feel like I’m moving past it, I end up being wrong.”

The light turns green, and Nesta puts a hand on Gwyn’s knee in an attempt to ground her. “Drive,” she commands softly.

Gwyn presses down on the accelerator, but Nesta can feel her leg trembling beneath her hand. She squeezes her knee hard. Even with the dark parts of her own past, Nesta has never felt what Gwyn is feeling right now. So she tries to stick to what she knows.

“It’s like you said,” she says carefully. “You’re going through a period where your brain isn’t being friendly to you. It’s horrible, but you can live with the knowledge that it’ll be over eventually.”

Gwyn shakes her head, holding back tears. “It doesn’t work like that. Once it goes away, it’ll just come back again. And it’ll be like that for the rest of my life.”

“You’re right.” Nesta doesn’t have a solution for that, and she hates it. “You’ll never forget. You can be at the peak of your life and still remember all of it. But,” she says slowly, “whether you reach a point where it barely fazes you, or if you keep crippling under the weight of it decades later, you’ll still be normal. You’ll be a perfectly normal human.”

Gwyn lets out a tearful laugh at that. “What does that even mean?”

Shit. “It means…” Nesta tries to explain herself better. “In case you’re worried that there’s something very wrong with you, I’m here telling you that there’s not. There will never be anything wrong with you.”

Gwyn eyes her skeptically as they turn onto a residential road. “Even if I never get past one nightmare I lived years ago? Even if that nightmare defines me until the day I die?”

“That won’t happen.” Nesta’s tone is simple, factual. “But yes, even then.”

“Really? You’re not gonna tell me to live for the better days or whatever?”

“Does that sound like something that would help you? Because I can say it if it does.”

Gwyn snorts. “No.” But her limbs are steady and her eyes are clear on the road. She clears her throat. “Thank you for listening. I think I might feel a little better now.”

“Was it because of what I said?” Nesta tries not to be too hopeful.

“I wouldn’t give you that much credit,” Gwyn says, crushing her hope. “But I’m glad I told you. It makes things…a lot easier for me.” She exhales deeply.

“You know my plate is mostly empty these days.” Nesta pats her knee. “That means I’ll always have room to help carry your shit.”

They pull up to Nesta’s apartment, and Gwyn parks at the curb. “Give me your dance class thing,” she says suddenly.

Frowning, Nesta pulls the wrinkled paper out of her purse and hands it to Gwyn.

Gwyn smooths it out on the steering wheel and grabs a pen from a cupholder, clicking it. “If you’re going to help carry my shit, I guess I have time for pole dancing now.”

“But that’s mine,” Nesta protests as Gwyn starts filling out the form.

“It can be both of ours,” she says, writing Nesta’s name under hers.

“Really?” Nesta grins with an excitement that she doesn’t easily feel. “You’re going to do it with us?”

“Why would I let you do it without me? So I can become the third wheel in our girl group?” She gives Nesta a look that says No way in hell.

Nesta rolls her eyes. “That would never happen to you.”

“Sure,” Gwyn drawls. She finishes the form and folds it in half before pocketing it. “I’ll give this to Emerie as a gift.” She leans over to peck Nesta on the cheek. “Now get home. Love you.”

Nesta turns red at the words and coughs. “Thanks for the ride,” she responds, getting out of the car.

“Say it back!” Gwyn calls after her. But Nesta shuts the door in her face and waves, pretending she can’t hear her. Gwyn mock-scowls at her through the window, but lets her off easy and drives away.

That’s enough feelings for today, Nesta decides. Even if her chest is swelling with emotion for her friend. It’s a sweet hurt that lingers long after she returns to her empty apartment.

***

a/n: i’m back in my no plot, just vibes era

taglist: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes

[undercoveravenger]

Closing Cases

Written for my 2021 Halloween event

Pairing: EJ Caswell x Male!Detective!Reader

Prompt: EJ with a Nancy Drew/Scooby gang reader investigating something haunting the school and EJ steps up to help. With “I am running on two hours of sleep and fifty tiny candy bars” and “Can we go five minutes without talking about ghosts, ghouls, or goblins?”

A/N: This is prompt # 2 for my Halloween event! The next prompt will be posted Thursday, October 7th.

-------

East High was being faced by an unexplainable problem. Each night, lockers were being broken into and various class and club rooms had been found vandalized. The faculty had examined the footage from all of the security cameras near the areas that had been attacked, but weren’t able to see anyone in the videos; only that the halls looked normal in one frame, and had been trashed in the next.

As someone who had spent his entire childhood looking up to all of the great detectives, you took it upon yourself to get to the bottom of the situation. You had told Miss Jen, the theater teacher, that you’d be missing rehearsals one afternoon in order to conduct your investigation, but she had been the only person you told.

You supposed that was why it came as such a shock to find EJ Caswell, a popular senior and star of the water polo team and drama department, leaning against the locker beside yours after school.

You disregarded his presence, moving to open your locker and tuck away your textbooks.

“So I hear you’re not going to be at rehearsals today,” EJ said after a moment, turning to face you. “Care to share why?”

“I’ve got more important things to do,” you said easily. You knew it was kind of a weak response, but it was the first thing that’d come to mind.

He rolled his eyes, lips quirking up into a grin. “Yeah, we both do, I guess.”

That gave you pause. You turned to look at him incredulously, and you had to force yourself to ignore the way the amused glint in his pretty blue eyes threatened to make you smile. “Excuse me?”

“You’re investigating the break-ins, right?” EJ asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched you.

“I’m not convinced that they have been break-ins, but yes,” you said, grabbing a different backpack entirely out of your locker and leaving the one with your school supplies in it before shutting the door. “Is there a reason you’re talking to me?” You turned away at that, making your way down the quickly emptying halls.

EJ scrambled to keep pace with you, weaving around the remaining students and faculty to stay at your side. “I want to help! I’ll be the first to say I don’t really have experience with investigations, but I want to help stop what’s going on.”

You let out a sigh, turning abruptly to face EJ. “Fine. You can help,” you held up a hand to interrupt him when he made to let out a victorious whoop, “But if you get in the way of my investigation, I will tell you to leave and you will listen. Do we have a deal?”

The brunet nodded vigorously, falling back into step beside you as you resumed your previous path, “Deal. So,” he said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. “Where do we start?”

“Here,” you said as you came to a stop outside of a janitor’s closet on the second floor.

EJ’s brows furrowed in obvious confusion. “Our investigation starts at the janitor’s closet?”

You nodded, twisting the door open and entering the small room. You sat down, nestling your way between a set of shelves and several empty garbage cans. “Well, this is where we’ll be waiting until the time is right.”

“And when is that?” he asked as he crept into the closet with you, wincing as the door slammed closed behind him.

You snickered, pulling out your phone to set an alarm. “Well, the thief only strikes at night, right? They’ll probably emerge at around nine o’clock, which means we have,” you glanced back at your phone, “About five hours to kill.”

“Five hours?” EJ asked incredulously, blue eyes wide as he looked at you. “What the hell are we going to do for five hours?!”

“Well, I was going to play games on my phone since I wasn’t planning on having company until a few minutes ago,” you said, glancing pointedly down at the device. “You’re still more than welcome to leave, if you don’t want to wait?”

EJ shook his head stubbornly, shifting to sit with his back against the opposite wall from you. “No, but my phone definitely isn’t going to hold up for that long.” He paused, thinking, “Maybe we could play twenty questions while we wait?”

You shrugged, figuring that humoring a cute boy wouldn’t kill you. “Alright, sure. But since it was your idea, you have to go first.”

He smiled widely, clearly delighted that you’d agreed. “Okay!” He hesitated for a moment while he thought, but a question seemed to strike him pretty quickly. “So, do you make it a point to hang out in sketchy janitor’s closets often?”

You barely managed to bite back a snicker, but the upward tilt of EJ’s lips made you suspect that he knew about your poorly concealed amusement. “I do when my cases require it,” you said by means of explanation, but you found yourself elaborating further at the confused-puppy expression on his face. “Today’s a Tuesday, which means that the cleaning staff isn’t in tonight, so no one will be checking this closet for stragglers like they would the library or a classroom. Waiting in here means that I’ll be able to remain in the building after the doors are locked, which means that I’ll be able to find out if anyone else comes into the building after it’s locked down for the night.”

“Wow,” EJ said, eyes wide as he processed everything you’d just said. “You put a lot more planning into this than I would’ve thought?”

“What, you thought I’d just wing it?” you teased. You had to admit, you were enjoying his company far more than you had anticipated. “I like to think that I take my job pretty seriously.”

He gestured wildly with his hands, like he was trying to wave away his previous words. “No, no, no; that’s not what I meant- I meant that-” He cut himself off as he noticed you beginning to laugh, “You’re messing with me, aren’t you?” He faked offense, but the appearance of his dimples gave away his amusement. “Fine, you got me.” His grin widened as he looked at you, “Alright, Mr. Holmes, what’s your leading theory?”

You let out a thoughtful hum, “Currently? Vengeful spirits.”

EJ let out a surprised laugh. It was deep, uncontrollable and infectious, and you were helpless to hide the grin it brought to your face, though it faded after a moment, “You’re serious?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure what else to think,” you started softly, fingers twisting nervously in your lap as you were forced to admit that, for once, you really weren’t sure about what the outcome of your case would be. “Any normal person would have been caught on camera, and the only people in this city that have the ability to manipulate the footage to make it look like no one was there either wouldn’t care enough to do it or they’ve got an alibi.”

EJ’s brows furrowed, “And none of them could have lied about the alibis?”

“Mr. Mazzara could’ve, I suppose,” you mused, “But I double-checked it with Miss Jenn and it sounds legit.”

“So ghosts then, huh?” he prompted, scooting a little closer to you until his knees brushed lightly against yours. “Seems like a little bit of a leap in logic.”

You shrugged helplessly, a tired grin forming on your lips, “I am running on two hours of sleep and fifty tiny candy bars. Ghosts weren’t the least probable option, if I’m being honest.”

“How would you even get rid of a ghost-” He stopped as the rest of your statement caught up to him, “Wait, you’ve had fifty candy bars?!”

“Just the little ones.” You said, waving off his concern and checking the time on your phone. “Depends on the type of spirit, but I’ve talked to some sophomores who practice witchcraft and they say that sage and pure intention to banish it should take care of whatever we’re seeing, as long as it’s a normal ghost or spirit. I just want to eliminate any other options before I take action.”

“Can we go five minutes without talking about ghosts, ghouls, or goblins?” EJ demanded, taking your phone from you and setting it aside so he could get you to focus on him, “You’ve gotta take better care of yourself,” he said quietly, normally bright eyes turned stormy with concern, “You’ve got a lot of people that care about you-”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, “Like who?” At his stunned silence, you pressed on, “Everyone at this school thinks I’m a weirdo. You don’t think I’ve heard people call me Scooby-Doo or Nancy Drew or Sherlock?” You shook your head, pushing yourself to your feet as your frustration mounted, “This was a mistake. I’m leaving; I’ll solve this case on my own.”

“Wait,” EJ exclaimed, shooting up to his feet and grabbing your wrist to stop you from going. “You’re wrong.”

“I’m wrong?” you asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow as you looked up at EJ. “About what part?”

He nodded seriously, eyes locked with yours, “About no one caring about you and about everyone thinking you’re weird.” He took a deep breath, and, for the first time since he’d joined your investigation, you watched his confident facade falter. “I care about you,” he started softly, like he was afraid to finally say it. “And I really like that you’re so passionate about solving mysteries.”

Your brows furrowed as you turned to look back at him, “You… like that?”

“I like you,” he said, so quiet that he was barely audible, but when you didn’t pull away he continued, volume picking up as he did so, “I really like you and I can’t believe I get to help you do something I love, and that probably sounds pretty dumb since we don’t really know each other that well, but I would really like to get to know you better and maybe even take you out to dinner sometime if that’s okay with you?”

It took you a long moment to find your voice again. “Okay,” you found yourself saying as you tugged your wrist from his grip to link your fingers with his instead. “Okay,” A wide smile spread across EJ’s face and you could feel an answering one as it tugged at your lips, “When we close this case, I’ll let you take me on a date.”

“Really?” he asked, like he almost expected you to tell him it was some cruel joke. He let out a breathless laugh when you nodded, “Then what are we waiting for?” he asked joyfully, tugging you towards the door by your joined hands. “We’ve got a case to solve!”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you were led out into the long-abandoned halls of East High, glad to have finally found someone who matched you. After all, all the greats came in pairs; Daphne had Fred, Sherlock had Watson, and now you had EJ.

[wasbangtanhome]

late, late, late | KSJ

banner made by bangtanhome! (me)

Summary: Is he late? Yes. Were you mad? Yes. Was it a special day? Yes, yes, yes! You had everything prepared and you just wanted your boyfriend to come home. Now.

Pairing: Office worker!Kim Seokjin x F(Reader) | also kind of dom!Jin

Warning: 18+. Smut in the form of: pwp, provocative dress, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it hehe), oral sex (M receiving), fingering, use of the word "slut", cumming inside, impact play (ass and pussy). also he used the L word.

Word Count: 4.4k

Author's note: Short and sweet to start off my journey here on tumblr!! I hope you enjoy it and to please please let me know about any improvements. I worked really hard on it! Also my first smut fic! Also, also, there are not a lot of pet names ever since I saw the post about what Namjoon, Jungkook, Jimin, and Jin would call their lover. I got super sappy.

From the kitchen window, you have a clear view of the entrance leading to your apartment that you share with your boyfriend. The sun has set and it's well past dinner time but you have yet to see his face walking up the steps, blowing a kiss at your general direction.

You chew the inside of your cheek. He's late, you thought, peering out the window for the nth time while drying the dishes. You can't help but worry. Seokjin usually calls if he picked up an extra shift, but your phone has yet to move.

Today marks a year of the two of you living together. The year hasn't treated you kindly. A while back, your company had some budget cuts. Your department was abolished and unlike the lucky coworkers that were transferred, you were a part of the handful that received severance pay.

You figured going back to work would be easy, especially with your qualifications. However, you have yet to get a call from any of the places you applied to. With you unable to work, you spend your days maintaining the apartment. Your boyfriend, his smile ever present, told you he would just have to take more shifts.

‘You know, ______, housework is really hard to do,’ he remarked. ‘Besides, I make more than enough money to support us both.’

You smiled at your boyfriend then. It was true, there wasn’t really a need for you to go to work. You eased up on your stress over not finding work and dutifully cleaned the apartment.

You trudged your way to the entrance of the apartment. Head resting on the front door before unlocking it with your key. Seokjin was drinking tea by the window sill, looking as ethereal as ever. He noticed you had entered the apartment, smiling lovingly at you.

Before he had a chance to say hello, you broke the news about what happened during work. Instantly, your boyfriend came towards you, his smile faltering as he saw the state you were in. The fatigue in your bones left you slumped on the ground.

Seokjin did not say a word, opted to close and lock the door behind you before sinking to his knees to meet you at eye level.

‘Hey,’ he murmured softly. ‘It’s going to be okay.’

He nudged your shoulder and you fell to his embrace. This was the straw that broke the camel’s back. You whimper softly as you seize his dress shirt, hot tears falling on his dress shirt, turning the color a shade darker than it was. Your knuckles turned white as your chest rose and fell rapidly, ragged breathing moaning the loss. And yet, your Seokjin rubbed circles on your back soothingly, hugging you tightly, not saying a word.

‘Sorry,’ you remembered mumbling as the coil in your stomach loosened.

‘Don’t be sorry, _____, there’s no reason for you too,’ he whispered back.

Silence fell before he piped up. ‘What do you call a bike that can’t stand on its own?’ he waggled his eyebrows when you looked at him, confused at what he’s saying. It took you a good moment to know that he was joking.

‘Two-tired!’ he exclaimed, laughing at his own joke. You smiled at your lover and before long, laughed along with him; his joy infecting your sadness.

He took out his handkerchief, wiping the streaks of tears away and giving it to you. At his gesture, you snickered before dissolving once more into tears. He had fretted then, worried that he had done something wrong.

‘I’m so lucky,’ you mumbled in tears. ‘Lucky to have you as my boyfriend, Kim Seokjin.’

He smiled softly at your comment, proceeded to pull you in his lap. ‘So, what do you want to do now?’

‘Easy,’ you sniffled, plastering a smile on your face. ‘We order fried chicken and drink!’

Seokjin had looked at you funny, surprised to hear you crave alcohol. Your smile was infectious and he ruffled your hair to agree. ‘That’s my girl!’ he exclaimed. ‘Let’s find you an even better paying job, okay?’

He was so enthusiastic, making the tragedy that happened to you that day seem so… trivial. You got drunk that night, your body not used to the alcohol.

You smile softly at the memory that happened after, your boyfriend’s hair stuck to his face, panting heavily as you came all over him. You try to push the memory away, focusing instead on your task at hand, but the damage was done- you're wet.

You chew on your bottom lip, hands traveling lower, touching your folds.

I’ll just start without him.Something nagged at your brain, and as your fingers sought out your clit, you realize how unsatisfying it would be without your boyfriend coaxing orgasm after orgasm from you.

You moan, anticipation and desperation threatening to consume you. Distracting yourself, you went through your mental checklist again. Skimpy apron? Check. Food? It’s cold because it’s been in the fridge, but check. The line that you’ve been practicing for the past few months to win over your boyfriend? Check, check, and check.

You glance again and the parking lot was empty now, its residents taking space in their respective homes. No sign of Seokjin.

You huff, grabbing your phone and pressing the on power roughly, almost causing it to clatter on the ground. Almost. Your screen flickers on and you see an image of him smiling back at you. You stuck your tongue out at his face, and punched a string of numbers you know by heart.

The line rang for a long time. You were about to let it go to voicemail. At the last second, you hear a tired voice answer you.

“Darling?” Seokjin’s voice was gruff and sleepy. You can make a mental image of him running a hand through his hair. He sounded distracted, probably looking at his spreadsheets as the numbers start to blur together.

"Hi," you try cheerfully, clearing your throat, hoping he can’t hear the anticipation across the phone. You cradle the device between your ear and your shoulder before brushing lint from your apron. "Are you coming home soon?"

Seokjin looked at his watch, knowing something was clearly bothering you. Looking at the time, he scrambled to his feet: 19:32.

"Wh-Wha--?" came the stunned response. You hear Seokjin push his chair back and the familiar beep of his computer turning off. You laugh quietly as you hear doors slam and his voice echoing in the staircase.

"Oh, _____, I'm so sorry. I had no idea what time it was," he pants, high on adrenaline trying to get home as soon as possible.

"I'm so sorry, ______. I'll be home soon. You can start eating without me, okay?"

You feel a grin paint your face, relief that he was at work. "I'm okay! You must be hungry, love. Just glad you're finally coming home. I can't wait to see you. Drive safe!" you exclaim hurriedly, knowing he won’t want to call when he’s driving.

He murmured a confirmation and you ended the call. Seokjin may be late but there’s still cause for celebration. Settling the butterflies in your stomach, you open the fridge door to take out the food you had prepared earlier, heating them up.

You finally see a familiar figure run from his parking space. His dress shirt untucked and he stopped for only a moment to blow a kiss towards you. His hair clung to his scalp, his tie was loose, and his eyes shining with adoration. You waved back quickly before seeing him disappear into the building.

Seokjin expected you to be angry, ready to apologize for coming home so late. At the very least, he expected a hug, you seemed happy enough, asking how his day was in the office. What he didn’t expect was you in an apron… wearing nothing else. His eyes roamed your body, stunned at the lack of clothes, briefcase dropping heavily on the floor.

"Are you going to close the door?" he heard you ask.

Never taking his eyes off of you, he closed and locked the door, sliding out of his work shoes. Like a deer caught in headlights, you can’t help but wonder what would happen if you approached him.

You hear him gasp as you get closer, his face incredulous. You pressed your chest towards his, relishing in his ears turning red.

"Now,” you smirk and grab a hold of his tie. “Would you like to start with dinner,"-- you croon as you fling it behind you.

"-a bath,” you say seductively as you open the first couple of buttons of his dress shirt. “-or me?" you finish, dress shirt completely unbuttoned as you watch his delicious figure.

You don't often see your boyfriend at a loss for words. But this... this was something else. Seokjin opened and closed his mouth, blinking rapidly. You hid your smile behind closed lips, enjoying the fact you’re making him squirm.

"What did you make for dinner?" he stammered, forcing a chuckle.

You waved at the table. "The works, japchae, fried chicken, corn, kimchi… You know, our favourites."

"Huh..." he managed, swallowing. Seokjin knew how hungry he was when he left the office, but he couldn't seem to focus on the steaming delicacies on the table. He turned his gaze back to you, slowly closing the distance between your lips.

"Good answer," you murmur.

"Didn't know it was a test," he whispered, dipping his head back down, claiming your soft lips once more.

You smiled into the kiss, content that he was finally home. His hands stopped trembling as it snaked lower. One hand circled your waist, the other trailing soft circles on your back. You shivered at his delicate touch, arching your back into his hand to feel more.

Seokjin seemed to understand your signal and lifted you up, making your way through the living room to reach your bed. Once you landed with a soft plop, he continued the kiss. Heat was rising to his cheeks as he fully shrugged his dress shirt off, returning shortly to connect his lips to yours.

"Jin, I can't see... it's too dark in here," you whined, feeling your skin burn where he touched your body.

You did not receive an immediate response from your beloved, only hearing the thud of a belt on the floor and you hoped his pants came off with it.

"I think it's the perfect amount of light to make you squirm," he whispers. You feel the mattress sink with his weight and the heated kiss resumes, your hands flying to tug at his hair with urgency. You start to feel feverish from the kiss, trying desperately to connect your hips to something so you can feel the first waves of pleasure. You’ve been waiting for such a long time.

He smiles at your impatience and starts tweaking your clothed nipple. "Off..." you whined, wanting the apron gone.

Seokjin slipped the shoulder straps down. You arch your back and he untied the ribbon holding everything together easily. He threw it over his shoulder and finally, his large palms directly touched your tits. He sucked on a nipple while his hands were busy, roaming every inch of your body. You moaned underneath him, thrusting your chest upwards to give him more access.

"Mmm..." you sigh as his hand travelled south and pressed onto your clit.

"You're so wet already," he released your nipple, chuckling darkly. "Have you been waiting all day? Did you want to be fucked that badly?"

You winced at his words. He continued circling your clit, waiting patiently for your answer. "Well?"

"Yes, darling," you pant out. "I have been waiting all day for you! Ah- and you were late," you whined pathetically.

He chuckled again, muttering apologies under his breath while he continues to play with your clit, your nipple back in his mouth. You knew you were going to get a real apology after you're done, but this was enough.

You felt his finger enter your pussy, testing out to see how tight you were. Your eyelids fluttered shut as he added another finger, eliciting a moan from you.

"Yeah? You like that?" came the breathy response.

Your head spun as he curled his fingers at the sensitive bundle of nerves. His thumb pressed and circled on your clit, his pace getting faster and his thrusts getting deeper.

"Jin, I'm close," you squeak out, squirming at his unrelenting force. Your high was right there, waiting for your undoing. But your boyfriend had other plans and his thrusts stopped completely before you came.

You whined, your hands tugging at his hair dangerously. Frustration swept overr your face as it turned even more crimson than his ears. "J-Jin..." you grumble weakly, catching your breath. Your cunt squeezed at nothing when he removed his fingers completely.

"Wanted to feel you cum on my dick," was his simple response.

In the fog of your pleasure, you weren't aware of his veiny cock rapidly growing harder, tip already leaking precum. You stared, dazed as he pumped his length. You also had other plans when you moved to the floor.

You licked a stripe down from the tip to the base, earning a hiss from your boyfriend. His eyes fluttering shut when you look up, his cock slowly disappearing into your mouth.

You suck lightly at first, taking care that your teeth don't make contact with his sensitive member and begin bobbing to a rhythm. He groaned as you stuffed your mouth with his cock, hands grabbing fistfuls of your hair.

"Ah- ________, ah-, can I move?" he huffed out, unable to form sentences without groans.

You moaned to signal your affirmation and he used your hair as leverage to pull you closer to the base. You struggled and gagged, feeling so fucking full. You whimper as he held you there, his head falling back with a groan.

Seokjin snapped his hips, thrusting deeper into your throat. The sensation made you moan, tears blurring your vision. He picked up the pace when he saw you, loves the view of you struggling with his cock in your mouth.

He loved to ruin you, would never admit that out loud, but seeing his lover whimper and sob because he was too big made him moan. Seokjin was holding your head in place, letting his hips do all the work. You groaned out, the vibrations on his cock almost sent him over the edge.

You knew he was close. In ragged breaths, he was saying how beautiful you were, how well you were taking his cock, how amazing you felt, and all the sweet nothings you often hear. However, when his thrusts turned messy, an indication that he was close, you shifted backwards and his beautiful cock fell out of your mouth.

"Fuck!" he cursed loudly, careening forward. He held your head in place for balance, not wanting to fall, worried he hurt you somehow. However, he was greeted with a teasing grin. "Payback, love," was all you said smugly.

You knew you shouldn’t have pushed his buttons that way. But you couldn't help it, knowing the wonderful outcome that awaits you.

He growled, anger flaring with every second that passed since you denied his release. "Bed. Now,” he muttered under his breath. You obliged at his command, though you did it slowly, never taking your eyes of him

This side of Seokjin rarely comes out to play. He was always worried he'd hurt you.

‘Yeah, that's the point,’ you snorted, recalling the memory of explaining what you wanted like he was 5.

Even still, this was a welcomed surprise. You made a mental note of how you pushed his buttons that day, hoping to recreate it in future events.

You were about to sit on the bed when you turned around, climbing on all fours instead, excited about what he would do to you.

“That’s not what I asked you to do, slut” he chuckled, waiting for you to get settled. You teased your ass, moving it closer towards his dick before pulling back.

You didn't anticipate the first slap, the sound of his palm hitting your skin filling the room. You moaned, wiggling your ass towards his face, eyes shining bright with lust.

"Ah- you like being spanked, huh?” Seokjin said, scratching his chin. “Who knew you'd this much of a slut."

You moaned at the word, loving when he said such mean things to you. Your knees buckled when the next smack wasn’t on your ass. He clicked his tongue as he watched your juices flow out from having your cunt smacked. Seokjin reached gingerly towards your clit, teasing it to ease the pain.

"Oh?" he said simply before smacking you again, this time back at your ass. He alternated between slapping your ass and your sopping cunt, the uncertainty of where the next pain would land causing you to see stars.

You whimpered and whined underneath him. Fully lying on your stomach, your ass no longer in the air. You held a pillow, moaning into it, praying the neighbors wouldn't complain about the noise. "J-Jin... please fuck me."

"Huh, I didn’t know this one could beg," he chuckled. The thought of him being with another slut left a twinge in your chest, but that jealousy subsided when he slapped you hard this time, snapping your mind from your thoughts. There was some shuffling behind you and you felt the tip of his cock on your entrance, Seokjin coating his erection with your juices.

"Shit- it's so slippery..." he said mockingly, "slipping" past your cunt. "I can't seem to get it in."

His teasing left you desperate, clinging so hard on to the pillow that your knuckles started to turn white. And just as you felt the anticipation was too much, Seokjin thrusted into you fully, his girth entering you all at once, not caring that you usually needed time to adjust to his cock.

Seokjin dragged you closer towards him, your legs off the bed. He held your neck down with his arm and thrusted hard into your cunt. Before long, you begged silently as your high approaches, hoping that this time your boyfriend would let you cum.

"Baby, I- I'm close."

"Are you now, sweetheart?" You nodded and whimpered at his question. Your voice was getting higher, moans filling your small bedroom.

And he stopped again.

You buried your face in the pillow to scream. You were so agonizingly close and he denied you just like that. Tears fall out of your eyes now, you hiccup and sob, glaring daggers at him.

Normal Seokjin would've scooped you into his arms, a myriad of apologies would spill from his mouth.

But not this time. Instead, he grabbed your hips with his muscular arms before flipping you over so you lay flat on the bed. His cock went back inside, thrusting slowly while he spun circles on your sensitive folds.

"Please-" You breathe in deep, trying to stabilize your hiccups.

"One more for me?" he asked. His voice low and husky.

You start shaking your head, pleading, no- you couldn’t do it again. You were begging him to let you cum. He continued his shallow thrusts and his attention on your clit. You sigh underneath him, overstimulated beyond belief.

"One more," he insisted and leaned close to your ear. "For one whole year of living together." He nibbled on the shell before moving down to your neck. "Please?" You moan when he sucked on the delicate flesh.

You melted into his embrace and nod. "One more."

Perhaps you should've considered longer. Perhaps it was your lust-addled brain that made you say yes. Perhaps you should not have fallen for his devilish charm. But it’s all too late now as he lay on the bed, and you climbed over him.

"Mmph..." you moan, throwing your head back while you grind your pussy on his cock. You snuck a glance below only to find seeing your boyfriend drowning in pleasure.

You leaned forward and bumped your forehead with his. Seokjin's eyes open gently. He pants quietly as he cups your face, gently stroking it with his thumb. An angelic smile spreads upon his face, love and affection in his eyes. You whined as you continue riding him, trying to chase your own high while helping him with his, picking up the pace.

You were still moving a bit too slowly for his liking so he thrusted his hips to match your movements. It sent shivers down your spine and you moan deliciously.

"Baby, I can't- ah- Jin..." you pant, bouncing and grinding on his cock, just then realizing how close you actually were. You expected the stop, but it didn't make it any easier. Your boyfriend stopped his movements and held your hips firm, causing your body to convulse.

Seokjin sat up quickly, hugging and kissing your face profusely. "You did such a good job, ______." he said, his apologies in the form of kisses. He tucked a stray hair behind your ear. "You were so pretty bouncing on my cock like that."

You sigh and smiled weakly at him, "Can I rest?" you asked meekly.

You hear him genuinely laugh. His friends always said that his laugh sounded like windshield wipers. But to you, it sounded like wind chimes dancing in the summer.

Seokjin grabbed you and laid you down on the bed gently. He turned to his side and stroked your hair. You faced him, a content smile on your face as you also stroke his cheek.

"I love you."

The sudden confession made you halt. You knew Seokjin meant it. However, he does not say I love you very often. He shows his love with physical touch and "have you eaten?" questions that make you feel so happy he cared. But hearing him say he loved you almost made you cry. Almost. You had enough tears for the day.

"I love you too, darling."

You scoot closer to kiss him, tongue asking permission to enter. He groans when they collide. Your spare hand moved down and stroked his softening cock gently but he sprung up instantly.

"I kinda blue-balled you, sorry," you broke the kiss sheepishly. Seokjin just chuckled and continued the kiss, moving on top of you.

“Are you okay for more?” he asked, back to his usual self.

You nodded enthusiastically.

His cock slid in effortlessly, your pussy already wet and stretched out enough to take him in without any discomfort. Pleasure caused your body to groan. You wanted so badly to come.

He held up both your legs and toyed with your clit. He was able to thrust easily into you. He started out slow, making sure that you were actually okay before it turned manic, his cock going in and out of you with such force.

You whined when his thumb pushed harder on your clit, feeling your walls clench at his huge dick.

His cock going deeper and deeper inside you combined with him touching your clit was all it took. You were suddenly right there, at the edge of pleasure before you snap. You yell his name, your voice getting increasingly higher. You look at him with desperate eyes.

"Cum on my cock, ____," he groaned, marveling at how tight you were getting.

He kept the pace and soon, you were moaning his name, your juices creaming his cock. You loved being filled. You were so full as your walls clenched around him.

A few more hard thrusts and he joined you in pleasure. "Ah- _____," he moaned out as your walls were painted white. You winced when you thought Seokjin was going to fall on top of you, though he caught himself at the last second.

He slid out of you with a hiss and ran to get a towel to clean you up. After he was done, the towel was placed in the laundry basket, along with all the clothes that were discarded from the floor. You roll your eyes, knowing how neat your boyfriend was.

He plopped right next to you and you cuddled closer, throwing an arm over his muscled abdomen.

"Hi," he sighed out in bliss, tucking another strand of hair behind your ear. "Happy one year anniversary of living together, my dear."

His head dipped towards your and you both nuzzle your nose at each other. "Happy one year, Jin."

"So," he started, clearing his throat. "I can tell you liked getting spanked. Push my buttons some more and maybe it'll happen more often," he laughed at his own comment., waggling his eyebrows at your direction.

This time, it was you who were at a loss for words. You shook your head, rolling your eyes before snuggling so close to him. You found the perfect spot on his chest, as always, pulling the blankets towards the both of you.

He removed himself from underneath you and stared seriously into your eyes. "I know I don't say it enough,"-- you smiled as you notice his ears turning red again-- "but I meant what I said. I do, love you, ____." He held your gaze and you found the strength to sit up slightly to kiss him.

"I know, Jin. This was enough. You are enough."

You've never seen him so giddy and he kissed your forehead again, finally settling down.

"Good night, Kim Seokjin. I’ll clean the food in the morning," you say drowsily.

"Don’t worry, let me get it. Good night, soon-to-be Kim _____," he whispered. You heard the comment but you were tired to ask what he meant. In the morning, you thought to yourself. I'll deal with that in the morning.

When you finally slept, soft snores filling the room, Seokjin got up, carefully detangling him from your arms. You protest slightly but rolled over, not waking up. He padded softly to the kitchen to put the food away. Washing his hands, he looked to the bedroom once more to make sure you were indeed asleep, before opening his briefcase.

Inside, there was a small blue box and Seokjin opened it gingerly, fearing the worst. He sighed in relief as the band reflected a light coming from outside, still intact even though he dropped it earlier. He closed the small box and placed it back in his briefcase.

Seokjin came back to the room to find you had gotten up, hands rubbing your eyes. “Where did you go?”

“Bathroom and grabbed a glass of water,” he lied casually, praying that you didn’t see anything, his heart hammering in his chest.

You mumbled something and he sighed in relief, putting on a pair of boxers before snuggling you close, kissing your forehead.

All characters depicted in this fic are 18+ and fictional.

Any resemblance is just a work of fiction.

All rights © bangtanhome.tumblr.com

Posted on 04.13.2021 at 11:11am GMT+7.

[itsallyscorner]

Ally!! could you write something from that video you reblogged of getting to know Tom before shooting a film with him! ♥️ You would write it so beautifully :) of course take care of yourself first but whenever you are ready!!

Thank you for requesting this love!!🥰 I was going to save it for last and do my requests in order, but I just couldn’t stop thinking about this request, so here I am! I hope you like it!!💜✨

💌.

Getting To Know You

This is long, I probably overdid it, but I hope you all enjoy!🥰

(GIF credits @thollandgifs )

You wander the halls of the studio, walking down long hallways, turning corners, and eyes scanning each sign on the doors of the rooms. You look back down to your phone, skimming through the email the costume department had sent you. Costume Design / Wardrobe — Room 220. Sighing, you glance at the door beside you, Production Design — Room 125. You mentally cursed at yourself for taking so long to get to the studio. You had just arrived in Cleveland, literally just that morning. After a lengthy flight to Cleveland, you were escorted to the house that you would be calling home for the next several months. There waiting for you was a rented car and the belongings that you had packed from home to be delivered to your rented house. Since the house was already decorated and furnished, there was no need in packing all your furniture from home, instead you shipped clothes you couldn’t fit in your luggage and other important belongings that would be difficult to bring onto a flight.

The moment you stepped foot into the house you didn’t bother looking around or going through the boxes that were stacked near the entrance. You made a quick trip to the kitchen, taking a bottle of water from the fridge and drinking a majority of it. The house was spacious but not a hassle to get around, you peaked into a few rooms until you found the bedroom. Removing your shoes, you pulled back the neatly tucked comforter and climbed into the soft bed. Your eyes were already drooping the moment your head hit the pillow. Before sleep can consume you, you turned on an alarm on your phone about an hour and a half prior to the time you were expected to be at the studio.

You were used to traveling to new places due to your job as an actress. Renting out homes and cars for months on end was nothing new to you. Neither was figuring out your way around the new state or country you were currently living in. Though Cleveland was different; you had a GPS to tell you directions to the studio but you were still getting lost, making wrong turns and taking wrong lanes on the highway. Stopping by Starbucks for an iced coffee and croissant to fill you up didn’t help, instead it added on to your reason being late.

You were still roaming the halls with your head tilted down to stare at your phone. The stress from being behind schedule mixed with your sleep deprivation created a headache to pound in your head. Suddenly, your shoulder harshly knocks into something. You yelp, apologies already spilling from your lips as you continue your rush to the costume department—wherever it was.

“(Y/n)?” A familiar voice with an accent asks. Your shoes come to a halt on the carpeted floors of the studio. Your head whips back to see the warm brown eyes you were once staring into during that audition how many months ago.

“Tom!” You exclaim making your way back to him. You were taken aback by his appearance. The last you saw him he was buffer and had a head full of soft dark brown curls. His body was thinner, cheeks a bit more sunken in, and his curls were long gone replaced with a buzzcut. Though you should’ve expected his change in appearance, you guys were playing heroin addicts for crying out loud. You had also been put on a diet in preparation for your role as Emily, loosing a fair amount of weight yourself.

“Hey, you’re here! I didn’t know you were in Cleveland already. How long have you been here?” He asks, arms pulling you in for a friendly hug. You happily accept the gesture, hugging him back.

“Umm, I actually just got here this morning.” You answer once you both pull away. His eyes widen for a second, “And they already called you in? For fittings right?”

“Yeah, I thought I’d have a day to settle in but we’ve got a tight schedule. Filming starts soon—like in a month and a half?” Though filming didn’t start till the next month or so, the Russo brothers wanted both you and Tom to be in Cleveland a month earlier. This was to help with pre production preparations. It was also used to help you and Tom do research for your roles in Cherry and to get to know each other.

Tom looks at the wall with a raised brow, “Uhh, something like that, yeah.” His eyes flicker back to you, “Where are you off to?”

“To wardrobe, but I can’t find the place and I’m already running late.” You sigh.

“Well, lucky for you, I just came from there. I’ll take you.” He offers, raising his elbow out for you. You smile at him, looping your arm around his and quietly thank him. He leads you to the wardrobe department and drops you off; exchanging a quick joke with the ladies and another hug for you before leaving.

You remember the day you met Tom. You were called back from your audition to do a chemistry read with the lead role of Cherry, who at the time you didn’t know was Tom. Your nerves were at a high that day. You’ve made it so far into the audition process that you hoped your anxiousness wouldn’t get the best of you and mess it up. As an actor, you were used to meeting new faces all the time, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have anxiety when it comes to meeting new people. Questions wracked your brain. What if you didn’t have chemistry with the lead role? What if you did have chemistry but the lead role was a dick? Does your breath smell good? Are your clothes too casual? What if you have to kiss the lead role? What kind of scene were you guys doing?

All your questions and feelings of uneasiness were thrown out the window the moment you saw Tom’s friendly face. He greeted you as if you were long time friends. That sweet smile of his made the tension in your body at ease, it was kind and warm, like it was his silent way of comforting you after picking up on your nerves. Tom was a force in the room, his cheerful and optimistic energy radiating off of him and onto the other people in the room. Maybe that’s why you felt so comfortable to be around him during the chemistry read.

He was very welcoming, taking it upon himself to spark a conversation with you while the casting directors and producers prepared themselves for your chemistry read. You remembered the way he naturally leaned closer to you, bending down a few times to hear you, his eyes remaining on yours while you conversed, the both of you aware of each other’s presence. You weren’t going to lie to yourself; Tom was attractive. He had gorgeous brown eyes that you could never get tired of looking into, a charming smile, and a beautiful personality. He was easy to get along with. The chemistry read ended with smiles from everyone in the room. You remember thinking to yourself, if you were going to be casted, you wouldn’t mind being casted alongside him. Weeks of sitting around and patiently waiting, you get a call from the Russos saying you were casted as Emily.

Fittings only took an hour tops, most of the clothes were bought since there was no need in designing fancy or sparkly costumes. Before leaving the studio building, you had a quick meeting with the Russos. It was mostly about the basic stuff, the run down of the schedule, the filming process, preparations, etc. By the time you were done at the studio, the sun had set and the night sky took over Cleveland. You stopped by a fast food chain for dinner and took it to go. You drive home, eat your food, and your night ends there.

The next time you saw Tom wasn’t that long from when you saw him at the studio. He called you days later, asking if you would like to join him at the VA. As someone who had no experience with drugs or were surrounded by people who faced addictions; drugs was a new territory for you. Of course, you’ve heard about it and learned the basics of it at school, but you’ve never had to act like a heroin addict. Until now.

You drive to the VA on an early Thursday morning, this time not getting lost on your way to your destination. The air was chilly, the sky dark and cloudy after braving a storm. You park your car and send a text off to Tom saying you’ve arrived. You meet up at the entrance of the VA. He was dressed in jeans, a sweatshirt, and sneakers. His attire similar to yours, which made you chuckle to yourself. He greets you with a hug, his arms brining you warmth from the cool air.

“Hey, love.” His voice was deep, still fresh from sleep. You smile fondly at him. Though you first met him a few months back, reuniting a few days ago, the boy’s been growing on you.

“Hey, thanks for inviting me.” The two of you remain outside, hesitant to enter the VA. It daunted both you and Tom to face the veterans inside. The VA was a sacred place for them, you didn’t want to overstep boundaries or offend anyone with questions for research. They’ve suffered from PTSD or were recovering from substance abuse, some of them just starting out their recovery. You did not know what to expect or hear once you step foot into the building.

Tom’s feet shift against the pavement, his hands shoved into his pockets, “Yeah, it’s no problem. I just thought that—you know, since we’re the only two playing heroin addicts in the movie, I thought we could do this together.”

You smile reassuringly at him, “No, I get it. I honestly appreciate it, Tom, thank you.” You look around the area. It was a quiet place, not too many cars parked in the parking lot, a few trees scattered, and the building had a tan almost bland colored exterior. Your eyes drift back to Tom’s, which were already on you.

You gesture to the building with your head, “You ready to go in?” Tom nervously breaths in eyeing the building. You catch on to his hesitancy and place your hand on his arm.

“Hey, you alright?”

“I’m fine. I’m just a bit nervous to talk to them, you know? I don’t want them to think I’m using their suffering as some kind of inspiration for this role.” He explains. You nod understanding, “Yeah, I know what you mean. I feel the same way, I don’t want to trespass on their privacy either. Wanna take a minute out here?”

“I think I’m good. How about you?” Tom composes himself. You flash him a tight smile nodding. Together, the two of you enter the VA, greeted by a receptionist who leads you both to a room.

You and Tom spend most of the day at the VA listening to the different stories of veterans who’ve suffered from PTSD and or substance/drug abuse. Some of them were very open and willing to share, telling you the hardships of their experience. Then there were those who were at the start of their recovery journey, a bit closed off, but were still willing to share nonetheless.

Tom watched as you listened to each veteran intently. Your eyes remained on them, your head nodding along, as you asked them questions or added some input to their stories. Unlike Tom, you seemed more composed and calmer than him. This was something he wasn’t used to, he wasn’t used to talking about drugs or military veterans and addiction. All of this talk was uncharted territory for him, it was dark and terrifying, something he never associated himself with. He was glad you agreed to come along because without you he wasn’t sure if he could do this all alone.

Tom would be lying if he said he didn’t feel some kind of attraction towards you. There was just some sense of comfort or tranquility that drew him to you. You had the brightest smile that lit up the room, sometimes he even found himself smiling because of it. He admired the way you greeted each veteran or former drug addict with a comforting smile and talked to them as if they were just a person, and not as someone who’s been suffering. You made the room feel like a safe space for them to share their experiences without feeling like they were being judged.

Tom was quiet for the most part, asking questions when he felt they were necessary or when something peaked his interest. He added a few comments here and there but for most of the time he listened. He listened to the horrifying and heartbreaking experiences of each veteran. There was a point in the interviews where it dawned on Tom that he was going to have to portray what these veterans went through. From the traumas of war, through the struggles of PTSD, to the excessive use of drugs and alcohol—Tom became reluctant in becoming Cherry. Was he really ready to become a heroin addict? Was he mentally prepared to shred himself and be in the mindset of something so ruinous?

From time to time you glanced over at Tom, checking if he was alright. At the start he was a bit fidgety, his leg bouncing and fingers fumbling with each other. His questions came out stuttered but by the middle of the interviews he grew comfortable in the room. Once in a while you would ask him how he was and he would answer with a small nod and an assuring smile. He then would reciprocate the question with a whisper leaning closer for only you to hear.

By the time the last veteran walked out, Tom felt a responsibility to give these people justice. To not only tell their stories and of other veterans around the world, but to bring awareness to the things that they’ve faced. Not only Tom felt that but so did you. These people have opened up to you guys about the darkest and lowest points in their lives, the best way you can both thank them would have to be by portraying your roles as accurate and realistic as possible.

There was a stillness in the room; it was quiet. The only sounds being heard was the ticking of the clock on the wall beside you and the distant sound of cars driving by. Tom was the first to speak, “I’m really glad you’re here.”

Your brows knitted together, put off by his random comment. “Why’s that?”

Tom shrugs, taking a breath in and turning in his seat to face you, “I couldn’t have done these interviews alone. From trying to make them feel comfortable and asking all these questions, I would’ve felt so overwhelmed. So, thank you.”

Your mouth curves into a small smile, “Give yourself some credit. I couldn’t have done this without you either. I can’t imagine doing these interviews alone, I wouldn’t be able to handle the intensity of all those stories by myself.”

Moments later the two of you finish your time at the VA. You walk towards your car, which was nearest to the building. “This is me.” You gesture to your car.

Tom nods in response. After all the stories he’s heard, he didn’t want to be alone. Sure, he has Harry back at his place, but it just wouldn’t be the same. He wouldn’t understand what was going through Tom’s head. Tom hesitates to ask you if you want to hang out, but after a quick mental argument against himself, he pushes himself to ask, “Um, what are you doing after this?”

You unlock your car and toss your bag into the passenger’s seat. “I’ll probably stop by Whole Foods or something. I need to fill up my fridge and pick up some stuff at Target that I might need.” You lean against the frame of your car. “Why?”

“Oh, I was gonna ask if you wanted to do something—it’s totally fine, since you’re busy and all.” Tom stutters out as he waved his hand at you. He was a bit disappointed that you were busy, besides not wanting to be by himself, he really wanted to spend time with you. You guys were friendly, but he wanted to get to know you more.

“Hey! If you want, you could come along? I could use the company.” You suggest, lips curving to a half smile. You gesture to his arms and jokingly say, “I could also use a pair of strong arms to help me.”

Tom bashfully chuckles, “I’d like that.” He turns to where his car was parked and motions to it over his shoulder. “I brought my car, so I guess I’ll just follow you there?”

“Yeah, I’ll just, I’ll text you the location.” You hold your phone up.

“Great, I’ll see you then.” Tom confirms and pulls you into a hug. You giggle at how affectionate he can be. You were gonna see him again in just a few minutes; the drive to Whole Foods wasn’t that long.

Tom parks his car besides yours in the Whole Foods parking lot. You both lock up your vehicles and make your way into the market. On the way, Tom grabs a shopping cart for you. You try to steal it away from him, but he insists on pushing the cart the entire time. You take out your list on your phone and navigate your way through the aisles of Whole Foods. While you throw things into the cart, you and Tom converse. The both of you share some basic information, like things about your hometowns, your families and friends, just the general stuff. You guys were talking about pets when you reached cereal aisle.

“I had a Yorkie when I was growing up, he was the sweetest little thing. He sadly passed because of a heart attack.” You reminisced as you scanned the shelves for your preferred cereal brand. Your hand held onto the cart that Tom pushed with his elbows, as he leaned his entire weight onto the cart.

Tom frowned at the mention of your dog, “I’m sorry.” You give him a look, wordlessly telling him that you were ok and have moved on. “So, did you get to bring Tessa to Cleveland?”

“Nope, she’s not too fond of flights, so I don’t put her through the struggle of getting on a plane.” You find your cereal and try to reach for it, “Aww, I would’ve wanted to meet her. From what you told me, she sounds like a sweetheart.”

Tom chuckles at you before coming from behind the cart and helping you get the cereal down. You look at him with a sheepish grin, “I had that, but thank you.”

Tom squints his eyes playfully at you, “Did you really? Because you looked like you were struggling a bit?”

“No, I was stretching.” You quip back eyes twinkling with amusement. You place the box in the cart and drag the cart. Tom chuckles returning to the front of the cart and pushes it. You look back at him, “You wanna have dinner at my place? I could make a pretty good pizza.”

“Is that so? I guess I might have to try it for myself, I’m in.” He agrees. The two of you finish up at Whole Foods. The cart was overflowing with brown bags when you and Tom walked back to your cars. Always the gentleman, Tom helps you put all your bags into your car’s trunk and even takes back the cart to the designated area that stored them. You split off into your separate cars and stop by Target before you go home. Going to Target with Tom was probably one of the most chaotic and hilarious things you’ve ever done. It took you about two hours in Target just to get what you were looking for. Most of the time in the store was you and Tom looking at children’s toys, making fun of weird costumes you found, and finding meaningless shit to buy because why not? You never thought Tom could be a dumbass until you saw him try to bounce a ball onto the floor and make it land onto his head.

“Tom, we’re gonna get in trouble.” You warn him, looking around to see if anyone were looking at you guys. You spot a camera a few feet away but it was nowhere close to you both.

“Don’t worry darling, we won’t. I got you, trust me.” He assures you as he gets himself into position. You shake your head at him while you sip on the coffee you got from Starbucks.

“Wait, so what are you doing again?” You ask.

“I’m going to try and get the ball on my head.” He answers clearly distracted. He digs his sneakers into the floor and prepares himself to bounce the ball. “You ready, darling?”

“No, but go ahead.”

It all happened so quick. Tom being the dumbass he was, underestimated the amount of force he put onto the ball. Instead of the ball bouncing a few feet into the air, it bounces into the next aisle and the next thing you both know you hear a *boing* and a baby crying. You and Tom look at each other with wide eyes. He rushes over to you and helps you maneuver the cart away from the sports section. You’re caged in by his arms, in between the cart and his chest as you both quietly giggle to yourselves.

“I think that’s our cue to leave.” You tell him through more fits of giggles.

The two of you are now in your rented house. You work together in the kitchen, working as a team to figure out the recipe for the pizza dough. Tom is beside you, looking over your shoulder while you both read through the Food Network recipe on your phone.

“Ok, we did all of that. So now we knead the dough, toss it into a bowl and let it rise. Then we could roll it in a little bit.” You read turning your phone off and looking at Tom. He nods and takes the dough out. You sprinkle flour onto your counter and onto the dough as Tom volunteers to knead the pizza dough.

Tom’s Spotify playlist plays lowly in the background. You were both quiet, basking in the comfortable atmosphere between the two of you. Weirdly enough, there was never an awkward moment with Tom. He could say the same thing for you.

You try to avoid the way his arms flex and how his veins pop out as he massages the dough. You glance at his buzzcut hair and ask, “Do you think your hair will grow back by the time you shoot Spider-Man three? Or are we going to have a bald Peter Parker?”

He stops his motions and looks at you shocked, “You’ve watched my Spider-Man movies?”

“Of course I have! I’m a big Marvel fan, my whole family actually is, especially my nephew. We love your version of Spidey—well except my dad and his brother, but besides them we love your version.” You explain. You see a smile twitch onto his lips as he continues his task.

“Wow, thanks. I never thought you’d watch my movies.” Through the warm lights of your kitchen, you see a blush spread onto his cheeks.

“What do you mean?”

Tom stops massaging the pizza dough and looks at you, “Well I’ve—wow this is embarrassing—but I’ve always kinda been a fan of your work. My brothers and I always watch your movies, and they never disappoint us. You’re just amazing! And now I get to work with you, and I’m not going to lie I’m still a bit starstruck, but it’s literally an honor to work with you.”

You look at him taken aback by his confession. You shake yourself out of your shock, “Well I guess that makes the two of us because you still make me a bit starstruck whenever I see you too.”

From that night on, you and Tom always hung out. Whether it be at your house or his, you both managed to spend the entire day together. Sometimes you’d both stay way too late at each other’s house, that you ended up having sleepovers. You guys would still have weekly visits to the VA, doing more research and meeting more veterans. To lighten the mood after, you and Tom would go to Target, get a bunch of junk food and knickknacks, then go to one of your places to watch a movie. The two of you have even explored Cleveland on your own with Harry tagging along once in a while. When Tom found out you were going to be living alone during the duration of filming, he offered that you could stay with him and Harry. Though you didn’t want to intrude on their privacy, both Holland brothers insisted that you live with them. You were still debating on their offer, but you were still spending most of your nights with them anyway.

It was one of those nights again but it was different. Today was the last free day you both had before filming began. It was different because you haven’t portrayed the deeply flawed characters you were both casted as. You and Tom spent the morning at the studio along with the Russos and the rest of the cast doing a table read of the entire movie. Reading and listening to the entire movie out loud made you anxious for the day to come. You were scared that not only you, but Tom, might go down a spiral of darkness throughout the process of this film. Cherry was something new for both of you. Neither of you have worked on a project as cataclysmic or dreadful as Cherry.

You were quitely sat on Tom’s couch staring at the sun setting through his windows. Tom was in the kitchen making the both of you cups of tea to warm you up from the harsh cool air of Cleveland. Harry was in his room, telling you and Tom that he was going to take a nap and to not worry about him. Tom watched you from the kitchen. The sun’s golden rays reflected on your skin, giving it a glow. Your brows were furrowed as you seemed to be deep in thought.

“Wanna sit on the patio and see the sunset from outside?” Tom comes up behind you with a half smile on his lips. You happily nod and take his hand to get off the couch. He slings his arm around you and hands you your jacket. He tells you to go out first and that he’ll meet you outside with the tea.

You sit on the steps of his patio, watching the sky change from shades of blue to a mix of orange, pink, and purple. You hear the door open and footsteps against the wood of the floors. You look up to see Tom holding two cups of tea with a fluffy blanket over his shoulder. A beanie was now on his head and a jumper was pulled over his shirt.

You thank him as he hands you your cup. Tom settles beside you, placing his cup on the steps and began to open up the blanket.

“Why do you have a blanket?” You ask him. He untangles the blanket and puts it over his shoulders, his arm wraps around you, pulling you flush against his side.

“To keep us warm.” He answers while he reaches for his cup. “I tried to find another blanket, but I think Harry took it.”

You brush his comment off, “It’s fine, I like this better.”

A peaceful silence lays upon the two of you as your eyes stare at the sky and your lips sip onto the cup. Tom’s arm remains around you as his fingers draw random patterns onto your arm. Tom was the first to break the silence.

“How do you feel about filming starting tomorrow?” He asks you quietly. Your eyes shift to the tea in your cup.

“Honestly? I’m a bit nervous, especially since we’re starting off with the heroin addiction parts. I don’t know how to feel about it.” You answer.

Tom hums, “I know what you mean. I’m pretty scared too.” Your eyes remove themselves from your cup to look up at Tom.

“Why are you scared?”

“I just—it scares me that all the acting and trying to be in the mindset of Nico might actually affect me. Like maybe by the end of this film, he’ll be a part of me.” He admits, his teeth gritting against each other. You look at him sympathetically. He was truly going through a war in his mind; just by the way he was glaring at the sky and how his fingers stopped drawing on your arm and instead gripped it. It was like he was looking for leverage to stop himself from falling down a loophole of possible outcomes of the end of this movie.

Your hand grasps his hand on your shoulder, catching his attention. His deep brown eyes connect with yours, “You’re not going to turn into Nico, Tom.”

“How do you know that? What if the more I act like him the more I turn into him? (Y/n), what if I get so lost into the character that I eventually loose myself in the process? What do I do when that happens?” He began to ramble, questions spilling from his tongue as he looked at you pleadingly.

You shake your head and squeeze his hand, “It’s not going to happen Tom. You wanna know how I know why?” Tom shakes his head.

“Because we’ll have each other’s backs. I’ll be there right beside you. If you ever feel like you’re spiraling down too deep as Nico, I’ll be there to get you out. You don’t have to go through all of that alone, Tom. I’ll be here for you, you could trust me.” You promise him. Tom’s mind seems to stop racing as his eyes gaze into yours. He finds nothing but honesty in them. You feel his hand fumble with yours before he interlocks them together.

“What if it gets really ugly?”

“You’re allowed to be vulnerable honey, especially around me, I won’t judge. I’ll still be there for you. ” You reassure him. You try to lighten up the mood by bumping your shoulder against his. “Plus, we’re actors, vulnerable is our middle name. How do you think Leo finally got an Oscar?” You joke. The frown on Tom’s face breaks as he stifles a laugh. You smile at the way the corners of his eyes crinkle, he was happy.

Your laughter dies down and you’re staring at him again, “But seriously, Tom. I’ll be here for you whether you like it or not, nobody should have to go through the mental capacity of a heroin addict by themselves.”

Tom nods, “Thank you. I can’t imagine anyone else in my corner but you while we film this. You’ve honestly been such a godsend and we haven’t even started filming yet. Thank you for being so understanding and patient with me.” He smiles fondly at you, pressing a kiss to your temple and pulling you into a hug. You hum in response and place your head in the crook of his neck, “You don’t have to thank me.”

Silence once again consumes the both of you. The birds chirp in the distance and the sky has now turned a dark purple. “You can count on me too. I’ll be there for you.” Tom whispers against your hair. You silently thank him, snuggling closer to his warm embrace. The fears of tomorrow slowly fade from your bodies as you watch the darkness consume the light in the sky.

[aries-writingblog]

Detonation

Summary: As an FBI agent, YN deals with bad guys all day long. So does Bucky as an Avenger. When their worlds collide, it’s never pretty. Especially not when they are the targets.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 4620

Warnings: language, violence, bombs and explosions, bomb threats, hostage situation

AN: This was another request from @cherry-season and if you can’t tell by reading this I’ve been watching criminal minds again so I hope you guys like this one. GIF is not my own credit to original creator.

YN leaned back in the desk chair, spinning it halfway back and forth. Boring a hole into the scattered papers of the police department. She was exhausted. Their team had been after this same guy for a week now. A real piece of work: planting bombs in DC banks. Leaving cryptic messages with them. Fortunately, their bomb squad made it in time to dismantle the charge before it blew. But they were no closer to catching the guy than before.

“Shitty coffee?” A deep, masculine voice approached her side. Placing a coffee cup in front of her. YN smiled, gratefully accepting the beverage. She glanced up to the provider, one of her teammates, Alex Knowles. “Look like you could use it.”

“That a way of telling me I look worse than the coffee?” YN teased, chugging the lukewarm drink down. So accustomed to cheap, watery coffee, she barely even gagged at the bitter taste as it went down. “No leads?”

Alex shook his head, pulling up a chair and plopping beside her. He sighed, gazing out over the bustling police station. Watching the beat cops go in and out of the doors, suspects and victims all being questioned or held in the same room. A Mecca of activity unfolding before their eyes. Progress. Just not the progress they needed.

“Kinda hoping Bryant would bring something back in- he went to question a couple witnesses that were around the bank at the time the guy dropped the bomb off.” He reported, sitting forward to shuffle through the papers on the desk. “What’s all this?”

“Those are previous reports…” YN explained, brushing stray hair back from her face. “I thought he could’ve had a previous record… he built these bombs with some kind of knowledge- whether it be academic or street smarts, I’m not sure yet. Besides, not doing anything else.”

Alex nodded, letting the paper slip through his fingers and back to the desktop. He watched his teammate reorganize the stacks- the glittering diamond on her finger catching his eye. A devilish grin cracked his lips, whistling appreciatively.

“Barnes finally asked that question, did he?” He asked, putting his cup down and gesturing for her hand. YN rolled her eyes, suppressing a smile as she complied. Alex studied the rock more closely, examining the quality. “Got good taste for somebody as old as he is.”

“Oh shut up.” YN laughed, yanking her hand back.

She and Bucky met on a case. Their FBI team had been invited into a local investigation of suspicious activity. Turns out, the Avengers were also looking into it. Well, a team of four Avengers anyways. Bucky Barnes being one of them. He was smooth, a sweet talker. Managed to wriggle his way into her phone, later he would swing a date. Two years later, Bucky was down on a knee in her bedroom. Asking one of those life altering questions.

That had been three weeks ago. They barely had time to see each other after that night. She was pulled back into work, he was pulled halfway across the globe on a mission. He did call every night, checking in. Asking about her day. Making outrageous, silly promises about the wedding and their new home, their future. Making her smile, distracting her from her day. At the same time, allowing himself to dissociate from the mission he was on as well.

“I’m happy for you.” Alex’s tone turned sober, serious. YN glanced over to him. He leaned his elbows on his knees, smiling broadly. “You both deserve someone like the other… you deserve each other. I mean it in the best, possible way.”

“Thank you, Alex.” YN replied, reflecting her sincere gratitude as best she could. Alex was always in her corner. No matter what- he trusted her. In their world, that meant everything and more.

“Hey, LN- Knowles!” Ricky Bryant came rushing into their area, flushed and out of breath. “Listen, I think we might’ve found the bomber’s identity: Casey Griffin. ”

“What?” YN leaned forward, staring up at him. Her eyebrows furrowed, a faint pin struck the back of her head. “Griffin… Casey Griffin- that sounds familiar. Why is that familiar?”

Ricky opened his mouth, ready to spill all the information he had gathered about the man. A woman interrupted their circle, a panicked look in her eyes.

“Agent LN- there’s a call on line six for you. He claims to be responsible for the bombings and he’s demanding to speak with you.” She interjected, nodding to the desk phone. YN glanced from Ricky to Alex.

“Get Robbie on the phone- tell her we need to trace this call immediately.” She instructed, rolling to the desk to pick up the phone. She waited a moment, allowing Ricky to call Robbie, the fourth member of their team. Their tech analyst. “Ready?”

“Yeah- go ahead.”

YN took a deep, calming breath. Her fingers tightened around the phone anxiously. Swallowing back her creeping nerves, she pulled the phone off the receiver.

“Agent LN, may I ask who’s calling?” She began slowly, giving Robbie a chance to snag the call’s location. There was heavy breathing on the other end, as if he had been running.

“You know who’s calling, YN. Don’t play coy- it isn’t a good look on you.”

Recognition struck her like lightning as she heard his voice. He had been one of the hostages in the first emergency scene. YN had taken down his statement herself. She ground her teeth together, anger flooding her system. She had been played.

“You’ve got me there, Casey.” She chuckled, her free hand wiping down the thigh of her tactical pants. “This is the first time you’ve called- why are you just now contacting us?”

The sound Griffin made was far from a laugh- the dark, slow noise was bone chilling. Nauseating. She could feel it deep into her clothes, settling like frost against her skin. She bit her cheek, staving off the urge to shiver through the discomfort.

“I’ve decided I want to give you front row tickets to the show, of course.” He crowed, voice leaping in octaves. “Corner of West and Fifth. You have half an hour, unless you want all these lovely people to end up blood splatters and burn marks on the floors.” YN winced, clenching her jaw. “Oh, and YN? Come in alone.”

The telltale click and beep ended the call, leaving YN to stare blankly at the desk before her. Clenching the phone in her grasp so tightly the plastic creaked. Knuckles lightening. She swallowed, something was clutching her throat. Restricting her lung capacity. Her shaking fingers pressed the phone into the receiver. Pushing her chair back, she stumbled to her feet.

“YN- “

“I just need a minute, okay?” She snapped, snagging her jacket from the chair across from the desk. YN shoved past the incoming traffic of people, fumbling her way outside.

The city was full of noise; Blaring car horns, shouting, a low murmur of pedestrian conversations. Sirens. The thrum of the city’s heartbeat under her feet. Taking a left into the alleyway, YN dug through her pockets, fingers brushing against the carton of cigarettes and lighter.

Hands trembling, she put a stick between her lips. Blowing smoke as soon as she lit it. Tilting her head back against the weathered brick of the station. A shaky exhale following the wavering grey smoke. She clenched her jaw, bowing her head.

She knew it was a trap- Casey was asking to meet alone. But he was holding hostages in a bank loaded down with explosives. And who knew what he wanted, why only her? Why alone? And why was that name familiar? None it made sense- facts blurring together. Shrouding him from her senses.

A sudden buzz against her abdomen sent her reeling back into consciousness. Her cigarette was gone- flicking the filter to the ground. Pushing it into the cement with her boot. Her fingers scuttled through her pocket, retrieving her phone.

Bucky’s contact photo- one of him fast asleep with fridge magnets on his arm. She smiled- somehow Bucky always knew right when she needed him. Like he had a sensor on her emotions, giving him timely reports. Updating him constantly.

“Hey, Buck.” She greeted, begging her voice to not crack. It sounded normal. Or at least enough that she hoped Bucky didn’t question it. Tucking the phone between her shoulder and ear, she lit another cigarette. Blowing the stress away from the speaker.

“Hey, sugar,” She could hear his smile through the phone. That excited one he always got when he first saw her. Wide, showing off his teeth. Stretching his face so much she wondered if it hurt. “I’m just callin’ to tell you I’m home. And I know you’re busy but, I wanted to hear your voice again.”

YN laughed, falling into the regular rhythm with him. Allowing herself to feel the stress melt from her bones. Bucky always had that affect on her. Something she couldn’t quite understand. Why the man was such an addictive drug.

“Well, you’re in luck- I’m on a break right now.” She wanted nothing more than to sit and talk with him, listen to his baritone drawl. Lulling her into a state of comfort and security. But she knew she couldn’t- she had limited time. She had to make a decision. And soon.

“Are you smoking again?” Bucky asked. YN smiled, biting down on her lip. She made a noncommittal noise, neither agreeing or disagreeing with his statement. He had been after her for their entire relationship to make her quit the habit. Trying to help her kick it. Nothing ever really helped. “YN…”

“I know… I’ve only had two. I just… I needed a break.” She admitted, bowing her head. She shifted her eyes to the alleyway opening, seeing Alex and Ricky approaching her. “I’ve got to get back. I’ll see you at home?”

“Yes, I’m making that soup you like for dinner. Don’t let it go cold.” He warned.

“I won’t. Love you.”

“Love you too.” She shoved her phone into her back pocket, meeting her partner’s halfway. Their faces drawn with concern and hesitancy.

“Gear me up.” She pushed between them, not looking back. She feared if she looked at them again, she would lose her nerve. Holding her shoulders back, chin tilted with her head held high. She had to keep the air of confidence around her. If she didn’t- they would never believe her. YN needed full backup for her plan. “I’m going in.”

~~~~~~

The building seemed to loom over her, taunting her as she stood before it. The large windows were gaping at her, a threat to her minuscule presence. YN swallowed back the terror she felt, pushing it down and locking it away. Out of reach.

“We’ll be talking with you through the comms unit the whole time.” Ricky explained, securing the equipment over her ear. He carefully tightened the straps on her vest, glancing to meet her eyes. His brows dipped. “You don’t have to do this you know? We can raid the building or get a sniper down here. This isn’t the only option.”

YN shook her head, clipping her holster over her belt, around her waist. She sighed, the exhale was shaky. Biting down on her bottom lip to keep it from trembling, she clipped extra ammunition to the side.

“It’s the one where everyone makes it out. Those hostages are the main priority right now.”

“Hey.” Ricky stopped her nervous movement, hands on both of her shoulders. Forcing her to look up at his face. “Don’t do that. Don’t make it seem like some small bust… this is serious. We’re worried about you. About this. It’s dangerous. Give a little of that focus to yourself.”

“Okay.” YN agreed. She inhaled again, this time a little more steady. Giving a final affirmative nod, she squared her shoulders and backed away. She turned, facing the group of DC police officers and FBI squads. “Alright, these comms go both ways. I’m negotiating for hostages first. If anything goes wrong, clear the site. We don’t know how many explosives he has in there.”

YN watched the groups follow her orders, setting up to accept hostages. Loading guns for a raid if needed. Both ambulance and fire department had been called in. The companies were also preemptively preparing for the worst. She began walking toward the bank, eyes forward. What felt like thousands of eyes followed her to the door, fire burning against her back.

As she approached, she could see a woman standing at the glass door. She had been crying- her face stained with tears. YN stopped at the glass door, standing face to face with the woman. After several moments of staring, the order was finally given to open the door. The woman’s shaking fingers unlocked it, pushing it open.

“You’ve served your purpose.” A quiet voice spoke across the lobby, echoing on the tiled floors. “You may go.” The woman burst into tears, shoving past YN and onto the street. “Agent LN… how courteous of you to take her place.”

YN entered the lobby tentatively, keeping her head on a swivel. She turned the corner, coming face to face with the bomber. Casey Griffin stood behind the group of hostages, hands tucked behind his back. A twisted, sacrilegious grin on his lips. The group at his feet were huddled together, most were sobbing quietly. Holding people they most likely didn’t know. She knew from experience that tense situations erased all lines between humans. Everything begins to blur when terrified panic sets in.

“I’m here, Griffin. What do you want?” She demanded, her hand resting on her weapon. There was a buzz of static in her ear, the line opening.

“We don’t have a visual of you anymore, LN. Get back into sight.”

Griffin took a step forward, around his subjects. A small, black remote in his hand. Eyes steady on her face. Studying her. He exhaled sharply, coming to a stop right before her.

“I was hoping you’d be more… well, more.” He frowned, disappointed. YN’s eyebrow lifted, unable to follow his thoughts. “Such a shame… I’ve read all these great things about you. Every case you’ve solved, every step you’ve made to get here. You’re much more impressive on paper.”

“Get to the point.” YN sneered, her jaw clenched. Griffin smirked, eyes scanning down her face again. He sighed, rolling his eyes.

“All you feds- no taste for the theatrical. I much rather prefer the Avengers.” He grinned, eyes sparkling dangerously. YN felt her heartbeat pick up It’s pace. Heart threatening to burst out of her chest. “Oh, that’s right… congratulations, by the way. What’s it like- being engaged to a fossil? Are his brains still scrambled?”

“Shut up.” She hissed, fingers itching to reach out and wrap around his throat. He only tilted his head, pouting. He began pacing, orbiting around her slowly. Her shoulders tensed, defenses began raising even further. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, you see, I’m very well acquainted with Sergeant Barnes.” Griffin slowed to a stop again, on her right. He leaned in, close enough she could feel his breath against her skin. “He murdered my husband.”

The pounding in her chest seemed to have leapt into her throat. Breathing was much harder now, her skin crawled as her brain went into overdrive. Something was wrong… what was going on?

“He doesn’t do that anymore.” YN admitted, her voice lower than she thought it would be. Threatening to crack.

“But he does.” He hissed, gripping her arm tightly. Yanking her to his chest. His free hand came up to her ear, ripping the unit out and flinging it into the wall. His fingers fluttered down to her chin, grasping it tightly and forcing her face to his. He stared down at her. Anger burning in his irises, the dark circles under his eyes. His nostrils flared. “What makes it even worse is that he chose to do it. With Hydra, he had no choice. But with the Avengers? He had every decision laid out before him and he chose.”

YN flinched, flecks of saliva landing on her cheek. Her jaw clenched down tighter, eyes closing momentarily. Griffin’s hand crept down from her face, into the pocket of her pants. His fingers grasped the device, pulling it out. He held the device to her face, unlocking it then shoving her away.

“So now,” Griffin gave her a maniacal grin. YN was beginning to get whiplash from his mood swings. He was unpredictable. Unstable. Devolving before her eyes. She glanced back to the group of hostages. “He gets to flex that autonomy again. Oh, how lovely- he was your last call.”

“Why do you have me here, Griffin?” YN demanded, attempting to take control of the situation. If he was distracted, she could maneuver and gain the upper hand. “If you wanted to go after Bucky you would’ve done it. Why do any of this? Why do you need them?”

Griffin spared a quick glance to the group of shivering civilians. He hummed quietly, pressing dial for Bucky’s number. YN felt a drop of sweat bead down her neck. Rolling to meet the bulletproof fabric over her torso. She was alone in here, responsible for the lives of those petrified people. Staring and waiting for her to do something. Help them.

Her eyes fell to the remote in his hand. She could snatch it. The bomb was his power move. His leverage. Then again, the hostages were bargaining chips. He had to give something up. She had to remove variables.

“Let them go.” YN urged, holding her hands out in surrender. “You’ve got me, you’ve got my attention. Let them go.” He sighed dramatically, eyes rolling as he pressed the button for speakerphone.

“It’s no fun without an audience.” He whined, shrugging as he turned to the hostage group. “And to think- we were just getting to the good part. Fine! Leave, all of you.”

The group all scrambled to their feet, taking their leave before he changed his mind. The stampede rushed the door, cramming themselves out into the street. YN’s heart slowed, the adrenaline fading in her veins slightly. Her priority was taken care of- they all made it out alive.

“Hello?” YN never thought she would be nervous to hear Bucky’s voice. Casey smiled at the phone, eyes boring into her skull. “YN? Hello?”

“She can’t make it to the phone right now.” Griffin responded, giving her a mocking pout. The other end fell silent. YN could almost feel the paranoia settle over his body. “I would ask you to leave a message but I’m afraid she won’t be around much longer to hear it.”

An idea began to form, tingling at the base of her skull. YN gulped nervously. She had to keep him distracted- keep him focused on Bucky. But that also meant she had to stay focused on Casey. She couldn’t say a word to Bucky. Not yet.

“Who the fuck are you and what do you want?” Bucky hissed. YN closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She could pull her weapon. But could she pull it fast enough? Griffin could blow the place to smithereens. She could try to get the remote- every solution seemed to fall back to the same outcome. She grit her teeth- he had the upper hand. She could do nothing but wait it out.

“Joshua Rivers.” Casey replied. While his voice was smooth and unrestrained, his eyes told a different story. Seething, red hot rage burned in his veins. “Does that name ring any bells to you, Sargeant? Let me give you a hint anyways- I know how fragile the mind can be in the older years. He was a lead operative for Hydra. Four months ago, you raided his warehouse and instead of arresting him, you put a bullet through his skull.”

“He deserved more.” Bucky hissed, his voice crackling through the speaker. Echoing in the empty building. Casey scowled, his nose scrunching in anger. “That warehouse housed human experimentation projects.”

“That doesn’t matter!” Casey screamed, veins in his neck popping out against his skin. Pumping adrenaline in time with his heart. “He was a person- he had people who loved him, cared for him. You took that away from me. I can’t help but wonder… how you’ll feel about the same circumstances.”

“Where is YN?” Bucky demanded, keeping his voice level. YN began to creep her fingers up, toward the gun in her holster. She had one chance. He was distracted- she could gain the upper hand.

“Well, that’s a tricky question. It’s only a matter of time before she’s… everywhere.” Griffin shrugged, swinging his gaze back to YN. Her fingers faltered, halting at her hip. She was close, her thumb brushed the cold metal of the gun. “So now… now I think I’ll return the favor. You took something from me. The only person that ever mattered. You destroyed my world.”

“If you touch her, I swear to-“

“You don’t believe in God, Sergeant.” Griffin’s slow drawl interrupted the threat. His tongue ran over his lips, taking a deep breath. “He’s not real. If he were, don’t you believe that none of this suffering would happen?” There was a ruckus of noise on the other end of the phone, Bucky panting heavily. A door slamming. “This is your repentance, James Barnes.”

YN’s fingers wrapped around the metal plating, her nerves settling. She could make this draw. It would be fast enough. It would be accurate. She could end it once and for all. She exhaled slowly, counting down.

Three…

Two…

One…

In a flash, YN pulled her gun from her side. Aiming it at Casey’s chest and pulling the trigger. The loud gunfire echoed- ringing in her ears. Her heart sank. Stomach plummeting to her feet.

She missed.

Casey’s expression settled into one of contempt. Disappointment. The hell fire turned to her, his focus shifting from Bucky to YN. Surging toward her, his hand swung out, shoving the muzzle to the ceiling as she fired again. Casey’s fist tightened around her phone, a strong punch to her kidney sending her to her knees, wheezing for air. YN grunted, her hand swinging at a wide angle, but it was only deflected as the heel of his hand connected with her nose. Releasing a sharp cry, YN cradled her nose carefully. Eyes watering and face stinging. Bucky’s frantic shouts barely audible as she knelt, gasping in pain. Her thoughts muddled and slow.

Casey sighed dramatically, ripping the weapon from Yn’s hand. She groaned, disoriented as a fresh wave of pain throbbed from her face. Blood seeped from between her fingers, dripping down into a puddle on the tile floor.

“Say goodbye to your fiancée, Sergeant.”

~~~~~~

Bucky all but tossed the motorcycle onto the curb as he skidded to a stop. A blazing inferno consumed the building, scorching the blackened trees that once surrounded it. The hand gripping his throat squeezed tighter as he stumbled toward the police line. Shoving his way through bystanders.

He felt sick- choking back the nausea bubbling from his stomach. Fire bellowed from the gaping, blown out glassless windows. Portions of the building were collapsed, the rest soon to follow. He barreled through shouting police officers, desperate to reach the building.

“Barnes!” He didn’t turn- even though the voice was familiar. He had to get to her- she was still alive, he knew she was. She had to be. “Barnes- man, you can’t go in there!”

Hands grasped his metallic shoulder, pulling him back roughly. Bucky grunted, swinging his arm around, taking hold of the man’s bulletproof vest. He clenched his jaw, staring down at Alex Knowles. One of her partners. Knowles’ eyes were puffy and rimmed with red. His skin was irritated, probably from wiping tears away.

“She’s still in there.” Bucky stated, without asking if she had been pulled out yet. He knew the process of these kinds of situations. The fire chief had to clear it and the area was nowhere near safe enough. But his girl was in there, in danger. Dying slowly, the longer he stood around. It had already been too long.

“Teams haven’t been sent in yet… I know you’re scared but you could make it worse if you go in there guns blazing. It could collapse the rest of the way.” Knowles warned, his eyes begging Bucky to stay put. Bucky shoved him away. Stripping off his jacket, Bucky scowled at the man.

“I will be the something worse if she’s not alive. Don’t test me, Knowles.” He growled, tying the jacket sleeves around his waist. Bucky turned on his heel, sprinting for the blown out doors of the bank. Ignoring the shouts of the firemen and police officers on the scene.

Inside, the flames locked the walls, staying maintained. It seemed the only thing the department had been doing since the explosion was clearing the fire. They had been prepared somewhat.

Bucky stumbled through the rubble, boots tripping over chunks of concrete and twisted metal. He had to find YN, she was somewhere. He had to keep himself from thinking the worst- she was alive. She would be okay. He just had to find her first.

He turned what would’ve been a corner of the bank, his heart rocketing through his chest. The beat thumping wildly.

Two bodies. Lying side by side.

“YN!” He picked his way through rubble, skidding to his knees beside her. Deep cuts laced her dirtied features, trapped under a chunk of concrete from the waist down. For now, he didn’t care of the implications that could lie beneath the rock. His trembling fingers found the pulse point in her neck, bowing his head and stifling a sharp sob as he felt a faint, slow thrum. He brushed the hair from her face gently, biting his lip to keep himself together. “Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ve got you.”

Bucky shuffled down to her waist, hooking his fingers into the rock. Just as he began lifting, a sharp gasp startled him, almost dropping the rubble. He glanced back at YN- wide awake and sobbing. Carefully, Bucky spared a glance under the concrete. A metal rod went directly through her thigh, blood seeping from the wound.

“Shit…” It had been contained until he lifted it- now she was going to bleed out. He had to move fast. “YN, doll, I’ve got you. This is gonna hurt but it’ll be okay.”

She didn’t respond, sobs ripping from her chest as he stilled. Bucky took a deep breath, collecting his nerves. He moved quickly, throwing the concrete across the room with a loud grunt. An ear piercing shriek fell from Yn’s lips, her fist pounding the ground at her side. Bucky untied his jacket, wrapping it tightly around her injured thigh.

“Okay, sweetheart. We’re gonna get out of here.” Bucky’s chest tightened as he gathered her in his arms. She was shivering, huddling close to his body as best she could. Her skin was filthy, covered in soot, dirt, and blood. “Try to talk with me, sweet girl. Stay awake.”

“Ja- James…” YN’s fingers twisted into his shirt, tears soaking into his fabric. His heart clenched. It was his fault- that idiot had gone after her because of him. He held her closer, tighter, as he picked his way back to the doors. “I… I think I’m done- done smoking.”

Bucky almost laughed, forgetting his location. The situation fading as he spared a glance down to her face. She was grimacing, lips pulled and forehead wrinkled. But here she was- trying to joke with him.

“Why’s that, doll?” He questioned, emerging from the collapsed bank. The sunlight was strong, glaring down into his eyes. He hunched slightly, trying to block the intense light from her sensitive eyes. YN groaned, tugging weakly at his shirt. “We’re almost there, doll. Keep talking. Why’re you quittin’?”

“I’ve had enough smoke for one lifetime.” She replied, eyes fluttering. Paramedics rushed toward them, a gurney wheeled to their side. Bucky carefully lay her back, grasping her hand tightly as they rushed toward the ambulance.

Bucky didn’t reply, lips pressed together. Concern running rampant as they moved. His eyes caught Knowles and Bryant’s, averting his as soon as they landed. Loading into the ambulance.

“Bucky?” He quickly stepped up, sitting down in the back. Squeezing her hand tightly. YN gave a half- hearted return. Her fingers tangling with his, eyes closed. “Stay… please…”

“I’m here, sweetheart.” Bucky smiled, hoping his face could mask the desperate panic he felt in the pit of his stomach. “I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

[thisissirius]

fight me, siri

ok

a place for us [ao3 link] eddie/buck, mid-episode for rage

Eddie stares at the phone. 

There’s a cop standing just behind his left shoulder, he’s grateful it’s not Athena, looming and reminding Eddie he doesn’t have long. He should call his abuela, in case he can’t get out in time to pick up Chris. He could call call Lena, ask her to bail him out. He can’t call Buck. 

The fucking lawsuit. 

The anger settles low in his stomach, threatening to boil over. What right does Buck have to drag their personal shit into the open? To let Mackey at it like he deserves to tear apart their decisions and use it against them?

Eddie shouldn’t call Buck, it’ll only lead to a fight. 

Picking up the handset, he dials one of the only numbers he knows by heart and touches his forehead to cold stone, hoping his call is answered. 

“Hello?”

Eddie swallows. “It’s me.”

“Eddie?” The sound of a couch rustling, the familiar slow intake of breath. “Where are you?”

It’s a bad idea, but Eddie can’t stop himself blurting out, “i need you to bail me out of jail.”

Silence. 

“I know I shouldn’t call—”

“I’ll be there in ten.”

The dial tone rings in Eddie’s ear. 

When Eddie gets outside of the station, there’s a familiar truck in the parking lot.

Part of him wants to ignore it, to satisfy the rage curling low and angry in his belly and find something else to punch. Part of him wants to wrench open the door of the truck and—

Except. 

Opening the door, Eddie climbs inside and tries not to make eye contact. “Thanks for coming.”

“Sure,” Buck says. He sounds angry, and when Eddie risks a glance, his jaw is tight. He’s furious, which just makes Eddie angry. What right does he have to be mad at Eddie? It’s his fault Eddie even— “Where do you wanna go?”

The anger stagnates and Eddie buckles in, stares back at the station. There’s a reason he’s called Buck, made the choice to reach out. “Chris is at a sleepover.”

Buck nods, fingers tightening on the wheel. 

“Can we,” Eddie starts, fights the urge to snap something angry, fights to keep his tone calm. “Can we go to yours?”

Head snapping right, Buck raises an eyebrow. “Are you serious right now?”

Eddie doesn’t bother answering, lets Buck make up his mind. He fiddles with the phone in his pocket, trying not to check whether Chris has called. He wants Chris to have fun, but there’s always an undercurrent of worry left behind. The truck is tense, silence dragging out into something dangerous. Eddie wants to break it, to snap at Buck for everything he’s doing, for making everything wrong when Eddie’s already struggling to keep his shit in line. 

The truck comes to a stop and Eddie’s startled to see they’re at Buck’s apartment. He doesn’t know what to say. 

“Get your ass out the truck or I’m locking you in,” Buck says, slamming the door. 

Eddie bites back his own retort—Buck’s bailed him out and he doesn’t know how he’s gonna pay Buck back for it—and clambers out of the truck. Buck’s at the door to his apartment block, holding the door open, his back to Eddie. It’s a dismissal that has Eddie bristling, and he storms after Buck into the building. 

“Why’d you bring me here?” Eddie asks, when he shuts the door behind them. Buck’s angrily wrenching beers from the fridge and Eddie feels ungrounded, like he’s the only one with a right to be angry and can’t understand why Buck’s—

“You asked me to bring you here.” Buck slams a bottle on the counter. “Just like you asked me to bail you out of jail, Eddie, what the fuck!”

The anger is back, bubbling up, and Eddie snaps, “You don’t get to judge me.”

“My money’s the reason you’re standing here right now.” It’s a warning tone that Eddie barrels right over. 

“If I knew you’d hold it against me, I’d have called somebody else.”

“Who?”

Eddie snaps his mouth shut. 

“This is gonna fuck up my case,” Buck says, holding up a hand when Eddie starts to retort. “Shut up, Eddie. This is gonna fuck up my case and I came anyway.”

Eddie snorts. “So what, I should be thankful? You shouldn’t even have been suing us—“

“I want my job back,” Buck says. It’s quiet, exhausted, and it stifles some of the anger. Eddie looks at him, really looks; Buck’s deflated, tired, drawn. How is it that just a few weeks ago, Buck and Chris were in a tsunami and now they’re here, everything breaking and running away from Eddie faster than he can make it stop? “I just want to come back and Bobby won’t let me.”

“Buck,” Eddie says. 

Buck clenches his hands into fists, rests them on the counter. “What excuse do you have?”

“It’s not an excuse,” Eddie snaps, and then shakes it off, turns around and stalks towards the couch. He needs to stop, to get control of himself. Fuck. He punched someone. 

“Eddie,” Buck says, and there’s something about his tone that forces Eddie to look. “You were booked for assault.”

Eddie sits on the couch, rubs at his face. “He was being a dick about Chris.” 

The story tumbles from him, because he needs someone to hear, to understand. 

There’s a ripple of fury on Buck’s face. “What the fuck is wrong with him?”

“I punched him,” Eddie says with a shrug. Then, thinks about it. “Fuck, I punched him.”

Buck sits on the coffee table, to the left of Eddie. His hands between his legs, toying with a frayed thread on his sweatpants. “What’s going on with you?”

Eddie doesn’t answer. How does he even begin trying to put shit into words? “Nothing.”

“Eddie.” Buck looks up, his eyes wide, and fuck, Eddie hates how unmoored he feels around Buck sometimes. “I never wanted this.”

“Yeah,” Eddie scoffs, leaning back against the couch. “Well now you have it.”

Silence stretches between them again and Eddie fidgets, pulls his phone from his pocket. The anger coasts and he knows if he tugs at it, he could use it to hurt Buck, to tear him apart like Eddie wants to. 

Except. 

Eddie doesn’t want to. He’s tired, too. He just wants things to make sense, to be right. “He misses you.”

Buck winces, drops his head. “I didn’t mean for things between us to go wrong.”

“What did you think would happen?”

Shrugging, Buck’s jaw tightens again and he stares off towards the kitchen. “Bobby’s the reason I can’t come back.”

Eddie frowns. “What?”

“You said chain of command,” Buck says, sounding hoarse, and he looks back. “Bobby told me I couldn’t come back. That the department said it was okay, but he didn’t think I was ready.”

Something stirs in the back of Eddie’s head. “Why?”

Buck shrugs again. 

“Hey,” Eddie says, feeling some of the anger bleed into frustration on Buck’s behalf. “Did he say why?”

“I don’t know,” Buck says, and Eddie hears everything he’s not been saying. The confusion, the hurt, and he’s angry at himself all over again. He’s been so busy and wrapped up in his own shit, with Chris, that he’s never thought to think about Buck. Buck, who’s lost his job, his family, and his confidence. 

Sliding forward, Eddie reaches out, expecting a flinch, and when he doesn’t get one, feels relieved for reasons he can’t explain. “I’m sorry.”

Letting out a shaky breath, Buck stares at him. 

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, sounding wrecked. “I was so concerned with being mad, I didn’t even think.”

“It’s okay.”

“No,” Eddie says, squeezing Buck’s knee. “It’s not. You gotta stop letting us off the hook when we hurt you, man.”

Buck's look is wry. “I’ll let you off the hook for that if you tell me what the fuck you were doing punching someone.”

It’s so easy to feel the low burn of anger, of failure. Eddie’s been riding it this whole time, trying to exist in a world threatening to drown him. 

“Eddie,” Buck says, reaching out and touching Eddie’s hand. He’s hesitant, apprehensive, so Eddie turns his hand palm up, lets Buck tangle their fingers together. 

Staring at their linked fingers, Eddie swallows hard. “Shannon wanted a divorce.”

The words fall between them. 

“Shit,” Buck mutters, squeezing Eddie’s hand. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m so angry all the time,” Eddie says. He hates being this vulnerable, this weak, but it’s a lot and he can’t stop the words tumbling out now he’s started. Buck’s holding him tight, fingers squeezing hard enough Eddie imagines his fingers breaking. Imagines himself crumbling beneath Buck’s touch and he gasps out the rest, eyes wet. “I let her back in, let her see Chris and I knew, I knew it wouldn’t be enough, you know? It wasn’t enough, it wasn’t, she died, Buck, but she was gonna divorce me.”

Buck’s silent.

“I wasn’t enough,” Eddie says eventually. “I just wanted to be enough. So that Chris could be happy.”

A hand touches his face, fingers gentle, and he looks up, meets Buck’s eyes. “Chris is mourning his mom,” he says quietly. “He’s suffered a tsunami, he’s mourning his mom, but he’s happy, Eddie. Or at least he will be.”

“How do you know?” Eddie whispers, afraid that if he talks any louder, the words will prove he’s as weak as he feels. 

“Because of you,” Buck says. His voice is certain, hard in a way that forces Eddie to pay attention. “You’re a good dad, Eddie. Sure, you’ve just been arrested,” Eddie huffs a reluctant laugh, revels in the smile on Buck’s face, “but you’re a good dad.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, shaking his head. 

“Hey.” Buck squeezes his hand, the fingers against Eddie’s face sliding around to his neck, thumb to Eddie’s jaw. “You’re the best thing in that kid’s life.” A pause. “In mine.”

Eddie freezes. 

“After Chris,” Buck says quickly, cheeks pink. “You’re my best friend, Eddie. Whatever that means.”

“A lot,” Eddie says, truthfully. “I haven’t had a best friend before,” he continues. “Not sure if I know how to be. Sometimes I think I do, then others—”

“Yeah.” Buck sounds like he understands. 

Sometimes Eddie wants to kiss Buck. To drag him in, hold him close and never let him go. The words won’t leave Eddie’s mouth, stuck somewhere down his throat, threatening to choke him. 

Buck shifts again, until he’s sitting opposite Eddie. He takes a breath, touches their foreheads together. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” Eddie admits. 

Buck’s eyes are really fucking blue. He’s beautiful in ways Eddie’s never let himself see. 

“Shannon died,” Eddie says eventually. “I don’t think I’m over it.”

“I know.”

“I want to be.” 

Buck stares at him, expectation heavy between them. 

“I want to kiss you.” The words are quiet. Eddie takes a breath, meets Buck’s eyes. “Sometime. When we’re both ready.”

“Okay,” Buck says. 

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Okay?”

“Yeah.” Buck’s face breaks into a smile. It’s small, tentative, but bright. Eddie wants to drag more out of him, ones that light up his whole face. 

There’s another pause and Eddie breaks first, tugs him in. Wrapping his arms around Buck, Eddie lets out a soft sigh. “Thanks, Buck.”

Buck’s arms come up to Eddie’s back, his nose against Eddie’s neck. “For what?”

Eddie huffs. “Bailing me out? Talking some sense into me.”

“What are best friends for?”

Pulling back, Eddie touches Buck’s face, thumb against Buck’s bottom lip. “Hopefully more than that.”

Buck’s smile is wide, a familiar look on his face. “Eventually. If you earn it.”

Eddie’s startled into a laugh and he drops his chin to his chest, grinning. 

“Hey,” Buck says, squeezing Eddie’s arm. Eddie lifts his head and raises his eyebrows. “Either way, I love you.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. Then, with certainty, says, “I love you too.”

[anagentinwriting]

Lifeline - Part 12

Summary: (First Responders!AU) Moving to Los Angeles and living with your brother, Thor, was never part of your plan nor was being a 9-1-1 dispatcher, but plans change when you are faced with your own emergencies. In your case, it was leaving behind a relationship that wasn’t as perfect as it seemed. Will this be the fresh start you were hoping for or will your past find a way to catch up with you?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Odinson!Sister Reader

Word Count: 8700+ (whoops!)

Warnings: Angst, language, fluff, jumper/suicidal, snakes

Lifeline Masterlist / Main Masterlist

AN: Flashbacks in italics

You yawned at your reflection in the mirror, bringing tears to the corner of your eyes. Today was the softball tournament, and Steve was picking you up at 6:30 in the morning. Unlucky for you, when you agreed to go with him as his date, you didn’t think it started this early. Station 107 was playing in one of the first two games of the day. It wasn’t a huge bracket with only twelve teams competing from different fire stations, dispatch call centers, paramedic units, and police departments. Nat and Clint’s West LA Police Department won last year, and they were hoping for another win.

You sighed, splashing your face with cold water, hoping it would shock your body awake, but it only made your face cold. You grabbed a towel, dabbing your face as you stared at your reflection. Your eyes shined back at you, and you couldn’t help the small approving smile spread across your lips. You shake your head, reverting your eyes back to the counter. Only an insane person smiles at themselves in the mirror, but you couldn’t help but look at yourself. Really look at yourself. You looked different, but it was a good different; no dark shadows under your eyes, a calm, relaxed expression, and a smile that came so much easier.

You were happy. It was a weird feeling, waking up refreshed without fear coursing through your veins. You were never going to be the person you were before you met him or even the person you were when you were with him; a weak, abused, and frightened woman. No, this was a whole new you. A stronger you that was finally letting old wounds heal and allowing yourself to move on and start over. You let out a deep breath as your phone vibrated on the bathroom counter. 

Steve: Good morning. I’m outside ;)

YN: Be out in a second

You sighed, slipping on the baseball cap Thor gave you to wear with LAFD (Los Angeles Fire Department) stitched on the front with their station number on the back. You let out a breath and smiled at yourself. It was a new exciting feeling, a feeling of improvement, and a fresh start.

________

You sat on the bleachers watching the game between Station 107 and Station 93. The whole team wore the same dark blue station shirt, grey sweatpants, and the same cap you had on. Your eyes scanned the field, finding Steve covering first base. The car ride over didn’t do any justice to his uniform. His shirt was stretched tight across his chest with his biceps bulging out from his tight sleeves, and his joggers hugged tight to his quads. He caught you staring, giving you a little wave before hitting his hand into his glove. 

The game was slow to watch, with the lead changing almost every inning.  Every time the batter hit the ball, your breath caught in your throat, waiting to see how it would play out. You were caught up in the game when out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a familiar redhead. 

“Hey, YN. Guess what? We won!” She nudged you on the arm.  “How are Val and the boys doing?” 

“Winning, but not by much. Carol needs to get her ass here. I think they’re feeling lost without their Captain,” you smiled, and she nodded in agreement. “Her shift ended about 10 minutes ago, so she should be on her way, and then she’ll set them straight.”

“Yeah, I noticed that. Like, why is Thor catcher?” she pointed at him. “And Bucky at second base? I mean, he can run, put him in the outfield.”

“I was wondering the same thing, but then I realized he already got to second base with you, so...”

“Oh shut up,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes. “He hit a home run, but I could say the same about you and Steve.”

“And you’d be wrong; we haven’t even got to first base yet.”

“Wait, what!” She slapped your arm. “But, I thought you two have been hanging out for like two weeks. I figured you two would be doing a little somethin-somethin,” she teased, nudging you in the side. 

You chuckled, shaking your head. “I get why you’d think that, but we’re in no rush,” you insisted with a half shrug, earning a nod from her.

You heard a car door slam and glanced over your shoulder to see Carol charging over to the dugout with her cap and aviators on. 

“The boss lady has arrived,” Nat announced loud enough for Carol to shoot you two a smirk. 

Everyone huddled around her in the dugout. She used all kinds of hand gestures, some a little inappropriate, but her team stood together, nodding their heads and hanging onto every word like they do when they are on call. With it being a single-elimination tournament, they couldn’t afford to lose. It might have been a charity event, but some teams still came wanting to have bragging rights until next year. When she stood up, they broke apart, and it seemed like everyone's energy changed from defeated to conquering. It was like they finally suited up and wanted to win with two innings left.

Carol was a competitive person and always felt like she needed to take an extra step to prove herself. Growing up, she never got along with her parents; they always insisted she couldn’t do something because she was a girl. No matter how many times she got knocked down, she would always get back up and try again. When she got the job as Captain of the 107th, many men under her didn’t want to follow her orders or be controlled by a woman. Many of those ignorant men left her station, even though she proved herself time and time again. She earned the respect of a few firefighters who stuck around, and to those, she felt earned her respect as well. With everything she has gone through to get this far, you couldn’t help but admire her. 

A slight chill ran up your spine, sending a tingling sensation coursing through your body. It forced the hair on your arms to stand up straight and make your hands shake. You rubbed them together, glancing over your shoulder, but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. You gulped, sitting up straighter, getting the feeling of someone’s eyes on you. You bite your lip, scanning the faces one by one until they landed on Nat.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you replied, seeing Clint take off running to a van. “But it looks like your cheering section has arrived.” 

“On that note, I will be back--” she patted your leg “--I have to go hug my favorite niece and nephews.”

She stepped down the bleachers with a huge grin on her face and ran towards the van. Clint’s daughter met her halfway and pulled her into a hug. She hopped on Nat’s back, and Nat gave her a piggyback ride back over to her parents. You smiled at their interaction. It was such a simple gesture, but it meant so much to both of them. 

Family has always been important to you; even when you didn’t think they would be there for you, they still showed up. You always thought you were the glue that held Thor and Loki together, but now, you were almost positive they were the ones holding you together. 

Your eyes focused back on the game to see Station 107 heading back out to the field. They were up 3 points, heading into the top of the 7th inning. You couldn’t help but notice that Carol changed their field positions; Bucky and Thor moved to the outfield, but Steve stayed put at first. It’s surprising how moving a few players around made it look like a brand new team, and the game quickly ended with three straight outs, advancing them to the next round. They shook hands with the other team before huddling together in the dugout. 

Thor was the first to leave the huddle, making his way over to you with a closed mouth smile plastered on his face. He hit the bill of your hat and continued to walk past you. 

“Hey! What was that for,” you shouted at him over your shoulder. 

“Felt like it,” he grinned with a shrug, walking backwards. 

“Jerk,” you said under your breath, readjusting your hat as Steve approached you. 

“Hope you weren’t too bored.” 

“No, it was entertaining, watching you all fall over your feet until Danvers showed up and helped you pull off a win.”

“It wasn’t that bad. We kept a good pace with them all the way to the end. Just needed an extra push from Danvers,” he chuckled, putting his hands on his hips. “Did you want to get breakfast?” He offered, pointing to the line of food trucks behind you.

“What....no Wade’s Chimichangas?”

“I don’t think I have the stomach for that this early in the morning.” He rubbed his stomach before offering his hand to you. You took it with a chuckle, walking over to one of the most famous breakfast trucks in LA, Stan Lee Scrambles.

Thor had mentioned to you once before how Stan and his old firefighter crew decided to open up a food truck after they gained popularity. It started out small but soon became very successful, and they had to get a second truck. Everyone loved them, the food, and how they gave back to their community. They didn’t have a huge array of options, but it revolved heavily around breakfast items, including their award-winning breakfast sandwich, The Egg-celsior, a sausage bacon egg english muffin sandwich.

“What can I get you, Big Guy,” the old man, wearing tinted glasses and an old fire station hat, asked Thor.  

“Well, Stan...I will take two Egg-celsiors with a side of hash browns and a parfait,” Thor replied, squinting his eyes at the menu. “I think that will do for now, my good man.”

“Coming up, Big Guy.” You smirked at Stan’s nickname for your brother and moved up in line with Steve.  “Hiya, Steve. How’s your dog...Cosmo, right?” Stan asked, putting his elbows on the truck's small counter ledge. 

“Yeah, he’s doing much better. He’s gotten a lot more friendly and isn’t as skittish. I’ve been teaching him a few commands and lovin’ up on him.” 

“That’s terrific to hear. Remember, every relationship starts off a little shaky, but before you know it, the two of you will be inseparable.” Steve nodded with a smirk, as did you, reading into the double meaning. “Now, let’s get you two something to eat; what will it be?” 

You and Steve placed your order, and before you could beat him to it, Steve had his wallet out, paying. You shook your head, taking a few steps back to wait for your order to be called. You didn’t miss the subtle wink Stan shot Steve, making your eyes drift to the ground, hoping your hat would hide the bashful smile appearing on your face. 

Steve’s feet came into view, and you looked up at him. “Thanks for breakfast.”

“No problem,” he smiled. 

“So, what are the chances of you winning the next game? Any big competitors you're worried about?”

“I don’t know.” He lifted up his hat, scratching his head as he leaned in close to you, and whispered. “We’re not that good. We might make it to the next round, but I think the final four is as far as we’ll get.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Observation.” You narrowed your eyes at him as he tilted his head to the fields. “For one, one of the games behind us is already up 5 to 0, and they're still in the first inning. Second, Nat and Clint’s department dominated because Clint hits a home run every time he is up to bat. And three, I think we just want to start drinking.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “You seem so sure of yourself.”

“I know a thing or two about baseball, and the odds are stacked against us.” Steve shrugged.

“Maybe, I should’ve joined your team. I’m pretty good with a bat,” you smirked, earning a breathy chuckle out of him.

“Maybe next year, you and Bruce can put together a group of individuals…”

“Let me stop you right there. No and no. I’d rather eat, drink, and watch,” you giggled, making Steve nod in understanding.

Your order was called, and you both went to the counter to pick it up. Steve followed behind you, taking a seat at one of the picnic tables with Bucky, Sam, and Thor. You took the spot beside Sam, and Steve sat across from you next to Thor. 

“You did not do that, Sam. I don’t believe you. I bet you made that up,” Thor said, waving his hand around with his Egg-celsior in it.

“I’m not, it’s 100% true.” 

“Lies. All lies this guy.” Thor shook his head, sliding over to give Steve a little more room on the end. 

“What is he lying about?” Steve asked, unwrapping his breakfast sandwich.

“Thor doesn’t believe I ran five miles in thirty minutes.”

“It’s true; we ran it together once,” Steve confirmed, nodding his head. 

Thor rolled his eyes, doing a double-take at someone behind you. “WHAT? Bruce is here! I didn’t know he was coming. YN, did you know he was coming?” Thor pointed at him, talking with Happy by the silent auction tables. 

“He told me he was going to try and make it.” You shrugged, glancing over your shoulder. 

“BRUCE, BRUCE,” Thor called, standing up in a half-sitting half-standing position at the picnic table. “BANNER, BRUCE BANNER.” Bruce noticed him and waved at him, not wanting any attention. “BANNER, IT’S ME, THOR. YOU POPPED MY CHERRY.”

All eyes in the surrounding area stopped what they were doing and looked between Bruce and Thor. You swore you saw Bruce roll his eyes from more than a few hundred feet away and let out an annoyed sigh before he headed over with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders slouched.  “Hey, Thor. Fellas, YN, Carol, Val. How was your first game?”

“We won,” Carol answered from the table next to theirs, where she was sitting with Val.  “It was a tight game before I showed up.”

“We just didn’t want to win without you, Ace,” Bucky smiled at her, forcing her to shake her head.

“Steve, did I ever tell you how I lost my dispatcher cherry to Bruce?” Thor asked as everyone stood up from your table and the table next to yours, besides you and Steve. “Wait, where is everyone going?”

“To watch the next game starting, but tell Steve the story, we have heard it one too many times,” Val stated, stepping out of the picnic table. 

“Yeah, he hasn’t heard it yet; he deserves to hear it at least once,” Sam replied with wide eyes before walking to the bleachers with Bucky, Carol, and Val. 

Thor did love telling the story. Maybe a little too much because each time he told it, you swore he added something new to it or remembered something he forgot the other 15 times he mentioned it. It was a story that only needed to be told once, but Thor liked talking about his first time. 

You shake your head, sneaking a peek at Steve through your eyelashes as a small smirk tugged at your lips. He caught you staring, widening eyes as if he was asking if they should've made a quick getaway, but it was too late for them. 

“That’s right, I did tell those guys,” Thor nodded with an amused smile. “Anyways, Bruce, take a seat. We will tell it together.” 

“No, that’s okay,” Bruce assured, holding his hands up “I got to go and...”

“Nonsense. Take a seat, Banner.” Thor tapped on the spot next to him.

“Okay,” Bruce mumbled with a shrug. “Since when do I ever get what I want.” Bruce sits beside him, knowing the faster he got this over with, the faster he could leave. He shot a quick glance in your direction, almost asking for help to make a quick getaway. 

“That’s right.” Thor patted Bruce on the shoulder. “Now, it all started when I was working at my first station in LA. I was a young greenhorn, learning the ropes many years ago...

“Thor and Sif,” Captain Heimdall spoke into the walkie on their jacket. “There is an EMT emergency at the Los Angeles Zoo. We are the closest unit, and I need you two to head there now. The team and I will finish putting this blaze out.”

Thor and Sif got into the ambulance as instructed, blasting the sirens, and drove to the access point the dispatcher routed them to. A few zookeepers were waiting as they lead them through the zoo, stopping directly in front of the reptile building. Sif ran to the back of the ambulance and threw a paramedic bag at Thor as she grabbed another bag before running into the building behind the other zookeeper.

“Now, at this point, I never had to deal with the whole paramedic, injured people side of things, so it was an intense situation. Luckily, I was able to stay calm and collected through this whole situation, and I had Sif to thank for that. She remained so focused in these emergencies, I always thought she took Xanax, but it was just her personality.” Thor shrugged, taking a sip out of his water bottle in front of him. “Back to the call...

“Did the dispatcher mention what is happening to either of you?” Zookeeper Carina asked while weaving them through the halls of the building. 

“Not much,” Sif answered. “The victim called in mentioning a snake. A few guests must have seen it happen through the viewing windows and called it in, too. I’m hoping you cleared the viewing area for now.”

“Yes, of course, we did,” Carina nodded as they continued down the hall.

“Wait, this involves a snake. I love snakes. My parents got me one when I was younger, thinking it would give me more responsibility, but then my brother let him out of his cage, and he was never found again. I like to think he found a mate, and they are living happily ever after.”

“Great story, Thor, but let’s get to the matters at hand right now,” Sif commanded, earning a serious understanding nod from him. “What’s the current situation?”

“Miek, our 16 foot long 237-pound Burmese python snake from the Asian exhibit, latched onto my fellow zookeeper, Taneleer Tivan, leg, and she started coiling her body around Taneleer’s leg, cutting off his circulation. Taneleer collects snakes, so I don’t know if he read the situation wrong or did something to provoke her.” She shook her head. “It’s protocol to have two zookeepers present during feeding to avoid these types of situations, but his co-worker was running late, so he started the feedings by himself.” 

Carina stopped at a door. “He is behind this door.” She opened it, and they both stepped in to see Taneleer holding a phone to his ear, mumbling and grunting. His eyes and head traveled to the door with a faint smile on his lips before he went unconscious. 

“OH MY GOD, that snake is huge?” Thor shouted in surprise, seeing the snake wrapped around Taneleer’s leg. 

“Taneleer, you still there? Taneleer?” The caller on the speakerphone asked. 

Sif went over to pick up the phone and tossed it to Thor. “I’m Fireman Thor Odinson. Who am I speaking with?” Thor questioned, keeping a watchful eye on Sif. 

She slowly moved into position to check his vitals while keeping an eye on the snake. Her eyes traveled over his body, further assessing the situation. She noticed multiple bite marks across his stomach that were bleeding profusely, and Miek’s jaw was still latched on tight to his stomach. Sif tried her best to put pressure on the wounds, trying not to disturb the snake while Mieks body seemed to coil tighter around Taneleers leg. 

“Dispatcher Bruce Banner here, how is Taneleer doing?”

“He’s unconscious.”

“Okay, how are his vitals?” Bruce asked, but Thor ignored him.

“Carina, do you have any protocol when this happens? Like what is the best way to get the snake off them without harming them?” Sif asked, trying to keep pressure on the wounds.

Her eyes went wide, and she shrugged. “This isn’t usually my area, I fill in where I’m needed, and…and…” her voice drifted off, staring down at Taneleer. 

Sif nodded, looking at Thor. “Thor, can you try uncoiling the snake off of his leg.”

Thor nodded, starting at the tail end, but as much strength Thor had, he couldn’t unwrap the snake. “I think Miek is getting pissed. She is making herself tighter and heavier,” Thor grunted through clenched teeth.

“STOP WHAT YOU ARE DOING, THOR?” Bruce shouted from the breast pocket on Thor’s shirt. 

Thor slowly set down the snake’s body and pulled the phone from his pocket. “Then, what do you suggest we do, Banner?“

“Find some alcohol and put it in their mouth, but make sure the head is pointed downward and make sure it goes into his mouth. The alcohol won’t work if you put it on their face or body.” Carina disappeared as if she remembered something and returned with a small bottle of vodka and a syringe. 

“It needs to be the mouth, okay. I got it, but we don’t want to get this snake drunk, Bruce.”

“It will work, trust me. The snake will become disoriented and unlatch herself from Taneleer. Then you will need to slowly unwrap her from his leg. Go slow because you don’t want to make the snake uncomfortable.”

“Got it. You sure she likes vodka,” Thor winked at a blushing Carina, filling the small amount of vodka in the syringe. 

“Thor,” Sif shouted at him. “Focus.”

“If she bites me, this is on you Sif, and this Bruce Banner guy.” Thor pointed his fingers at her and then to the phone.

Thor held the syringe just enough to place a few drops into the python's mouth. In an instant, the snake disengaged its teeth and retracted them away from the bite zone. Sif stepped into action and put pressure on the wound while Thor grabbed a hold of his jaw and head, gaining full control of the snake. With his other hand, he pointed to Carina to start unwrapping the snake slowly at the tail end.  

“And just like that, another person saved.” Thor smacked the table with a big grin on his face. “If I remember right, you Banner had quite the temper in that situation.”

“Well, when a person needs help, you have to think of the best way to help.”

“How did you know the alcohol trick would work?” Steve asked, looking at Bruce.

Bruce opened his mouth when Thor spoke up for him. “This guy, right here--” he grabbed both Bruce's shoulder and shook him “--took some fancy snake class and learned how to disarm them.”

“It wasn’t for that reason per se, but it was a class at the local herpetology society to better understand situations involving reptiles and amphibians.”

“Exactly, fancy snake class,” Thor smirked, patting him on the back while Bruce nodded his head, rubbing his lips together. You couldn’t help but shake your head at them. These two had nothing in common but that one call they experienced together. “I want you to remember, Bruce, you will always be my first.”

“Okay,” Bruce nodded with a fake tight-lipped smile. 

“It was good to see you, Bruce, but I am going to go see if Stan has any more Egg-celsiors left.” He patted him on the shoulder, crawling out of the table and walking back to the truck. 

“Good to see you, too.”

“And here I thought my first time was good.” Steve winked at you, forcing you to roll your eyes.

“I will say one thing,” Bruce mentioned, peeking over you to make sure Thor was out of earshot. “He wasn’t that calm. If you ever want to hear the real version, we have it in the archives, it's in my favorites.”

“And here I thought my brother loved snakes,” you added, making both men chuckle. 

________

Steve went to warm up for his next game while you made your way over to the bleachers to watch the rest of Nat and Clint’s game.

“YN, come sit with us,” a woman with brown hair called, waving at you with a huge grin on her face. A little boy sat next to her, focused on the game in front of him. You recognized her as the woman Nat hugged earlier. “I don’t think we have been properly introduced, but I’m Laura, Clint’s wife, and this is my youngest, Nathaniel. The little lady in the purple shirt by the fence watching the game is Lila, and the young man next to her is my other son, Cooper.”

You nodded as she pointed at them. “I’m YN, but you seem to already know that,” you smiled, shaking her hand. 

“I did, I’ve heard so much about you, and it’s nice to finally put a face to the name. Here join us on the blanket.”

“Thanks.” You plopped down on the blanket, getting comfortable. “Nat’s told me so much about her niece and nephews, too, and they do seem pretty adorable.”

“Do they? Because if I’m being honest, they can be little terrors sometimes, and the sibling rivalry, well don’t get me started,” she huffed, shaking her head. 

“Oh, don’t I know it. I’ve experienced plenty of it growing up with two brothers.”

“I can imagine, but I didn’t know you had another brother.”

“Yeah, Loki. He’s adopted.” You shrugged, watching Nathaniel look through one of the books in front of him.

“Was it like sporting event after sporting event growing up? Because let me tell you something, once you have kids and they want to play sports, then that's all you're going to be focusing on until the season's finished. Bye-bye social life.”

“I’ll take that into consideration,” you let out a soft chuckle, “but for me, it wasn’t like that growing up. Loki and Thor are two very different people. Loki was more into drama theater, but Thor did play a lot of sports. And their personalities, well, they couldn’t be more opposite. Loki is great to talk to when you need someone to tell you how it is or how something is going to be, but Thor always takes your feelings into account by telling you what you want to hear before telling you what you should hear. Each brother has good and bad traits, but I still loved them and would do anything for them.”

“Do you miss Loki?” She reached over and patted your hand. “I’m assuming he doesn’t live around here because Nat mentioned you’re from New York, right?”

“Ahh, yeah. I miss talking to him and seeing him. We were close growing up and up until I moved at the last minute, but it’s just tough, right now.” You shrugged, biting your lip as your eyes drifted to the field. 

You hated not being able to talk to Loki. He helped you through so much, and you hoped he knew that. As dramatic and theatrical as he could be, you missed him. He was often hard to read, but once you cracked his hard shell, he showed a different side of himself, some never get the chance to see. You wished you could tell him what you have been doing lately, but you didn’t want to draw unwanted attention to another cell phone besides your brothers in California, in case Billy was keeping an eye on them.

“I’m sorry--” she gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, and your head snapped to hers “--I didn’t mean to pry or anything. I’m just a stay-at-home mom that hasn’t had any adult communication since last week.”

“No, you’re good, Laura,” you smiled at her. “Don’t you have Clint to talk to?”

“He’s like my fourth child. He is the oldest but acts like the youngest,” she whispered the last part, making you let out a loud laugh. “So, tell me...” She nudged your side, tilting her head at something behind you. You turned to see who she was referring to only to spot Steve. “What’s going on with you and Steve?”

“Depends on what has Nat told you?”

“Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be! Wow!” She pushed you, and you laughed, falling onto your side. 

“MOM, Dad's up to bat,” Cooper shouted, sprinting over to inform her before going back to the fence.

“Is he? Oh yes, look at that,” she smirked, seeing Clint square up in the batter’s box with the bases loaded.

With the first pitch, Clint swung the bat, sending the ball flying over the fence on the opposite side of the field. He hit a grand slam, earning cheers from his teammates as he jogged around the bases with a fist up in the air. 

"Showoff," Laura snorted, shaking her head. “I’ll cue you in on a little unknown fact about Clint. He only hits those over the fence because he doesn’t want to run around the bases.”

“Really?” 

“Yeah, he’s the worst, but I love him,” she smiled with a half shrug. 

You may have just met Laura, but you already adored her. She was so easy to get along with, and seemed like the type of friend you could share all your secrets with and she wouldn’t tell a soul.  

"How long have you and Clint been together?"

“It’s been seventeen long years, but he’s been worth it,” Laura smiled, running her hand through Nathaniel’s mop of hair. “How about you and Steve?”

“Okay, back to me, then.” You shake your head, finding it hard not to smile. You glanced over at Steve to see him talking with Sam, flipping his baseball glove around in his hands. “We’ve been hanging out, but I wouldn’t call it serious.” 

“Steve’s a great guy from what I’ve come to understand. I’m pretty perceptive, and let me tell you, not many people can finagle themselves into their little group, but he fit right in. And from what my perceptive powers are telling me, he likes you,” she grinned, tilting her head at him. 

You took a deep breath and looked over your shoulder to catch Steve and Sam staring at you. Steve bit his bottom lip, a smirk forming on his lips. You stuck out your tongue at them, making them both laugh as they leaned down to grab their gear for the next game. Steve headed towards the dugout, but you didn’t miss the ever so subtle double-take Steve shot your way. You shot him a cheesy grin, and you could’ve sworn his ears couldn’t get any redder. You chuckled, your eyes drifting back to the game in front of you. 

“And that Nathaniel, my little man, is called the double-take. It means Steve is into YN.”

You scoffed. “May I ask what you’re teaching him?” You bit your lip, looking at the smiling boy. 

“My perceptive powers, of course,” she said, reaching over and tickling him. 

“No, mommy,” he screeched in a burst of high-pitched laughter. 

“He’s got the trait. Cooper and Lila are screwed.” She confessed, and you mouthed ‘wow’ with a half-smile on your lips. “Regardless, you two are cute together.” 

“Thanks,” you mumbled under your breath, feeling a rush of heat to your cheeks. 

_________

The West LA Police Department took the win and were moving onto the final four. Nat and Clint were walking over together, and Lila took off running towards them. Clint leaned down with open arms, but she ran right to Nat and wrapped her arms around her waist. You didn’t miss Clint let out a sigh of defeat as he stood back up and smirked at them.

“Did you watch us kick the other teams butt?” Nat asked, smiling down at her, patting her back. 

“Yeah, you were so awesome, Nat. I want to grow up and be just like you,” Lila grinned, looking up at her.

Clint shook his head at them, giving Lila a knowing look. “Yeah, no, that’s not gonna happen. You wanna give your old man a heart attack or something because I’m not ready for that," Clint sighed, walking over and laying down next to Nathaniel and Laura. He rested his head on his wife’s thigh with a huff. “I’m getting too old for this sh...stuff,” he groaned, closing his eyes and was out like a light. 

“Man, I wish I could fall asleep that fast,” Nat admitted, staring down at sleeping Clint.

“Don’t we all,” Laura chuckled. “At least I know where Nathaniel gets it.”

“How’s your team doing?” Nat asked, standing with her hands on her hips. 

“I haven’t checked up on them. Been too busy talking with Laura.”

“Happens to most of us. She’s so easy to talk to.”

“She is,” you nodded at Laura, and she shot you a soft smile. 

Station 107 won their game, moving them onto the final four, which started after lunch. To your surprise, Happy’s Hydrant was catering the event, and all the food looked delicious. All you had to do was pay for the plate, and all the money collected would be donated to the winning team's charity.  Everyone from the team agreed, this last game wasn’t important and that it was time to finally start partying.

_________

It was the bottom of the 7th inning of their final four game with Station 107 down by one point with one out. Val was up to bat, and the current count was one strike and two balls. She stepped back, taking a few quick practice swings before returning to the plate. The pitcher threw the ball straight across the plate, and Val swung with a miss. She stepped back out, shaking her head as her teammates cheered her on from the dugout. 

Steve gulped, seeing her set herself back up in the batter's box, doing one more quick practice swing. Steve never really had a one on one conversation with her, but he had a ton of respect for her. He was always impressed with how determined and focused she could be in a high-pressure situation. Those calls were a walk in the park for her, and he knew with the current situation at hand, she would knock that ball out of the park.

The pitcher tossed the ball, and in an instant, it landed in the catcher's glove slightly out of the strike zone. 

“Strike 3, you’re out,” the umpire called, making a fist with his hand. Val stood there with a questioning glare at the ump before she turned around and walked away. 

“What the fuck?” Steve commented under his breath, pushing his way out of the dugout and passed Val. “What kind of fucking call was that, ump?” 

“If you don’t like the call, you can get out of here.” The ump stood tall in front of him, but it didn’t do much since he was shorter than Steve. 

“The ball was nowhere near the damn strike zone, and she didn’t even swing at it. She’s not out.” 

The umpire tore off his mask. “Listen here, buddy, I’m in charge here--” He stepped closer to Steve and poked him on the chest with his mask “--from my view, she swung the bat but didn’t commit to it. Get over it or get out.”

“You know what I think…” Steve started, but Bucky showed up, forcing himself between them. Sam stepped in and grabbed a hold of Steve’s arm, pulling him back to the dugout.

“All good, Rumlow, all good. It’s just a friendly annual charity grill-out game. Can’t we all just get along,” Bucky added with a slight smirk, walking backwards to the dugout.

“Keep your new recruit under control, and we won’t have a problem.” Rumlow shook his head and pulled his mask back on with Thor up to bat next.  

“Who is that guy?” Steve asked Sam, taking a seat on the bench in the dugout.

“Brock Rumlow. You kind of took his job.”

“What do you mean, I took his job?”

“We were going to hire him, but then, Bucky told you to apply, and you got it.” Sam patted his back. “He is not very fond of our station anymore, but you were the more qualified candidate.” Sam squirted his water bottle into his mouth. “It’s probably why Val didn’t say anything to him about the call because she saw who it was and knew it wasn’t worth the fight.”

“I see,” Steve nodded, taking a drink from his water bottle. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing you watching him. Nat was saying something to you, but your attention was on him. He held up his hand with a slight smirk to show you he was fine, and you nodded at him.

“Why am I always cleaning up your messes,” Bucky inquired, plopping down in the seat next to him.

“Bad timing,” Steve smiled, forcing Sam and Bucky to shake their heads. 

You and Nat stepped down from the bleachers when the game ended, with Station 107 losing by 2 points. Nat nodded at you, leaving to prepare for the championship game. Once you realized the umpire was Rumlow, you and Nat knew it was inevitable that they were going to lose. Rumlow knew how to hold a grudge, and he was still holding onto it. You shot Steve a side smirk as he walked over to you. 

“And here, I thought you guys didn’t care about the game, and who knew you were so competitive?”

“What can I say, I got into it a little bit. We all did.” He shrugged with a tight smile.

“You did,” you chuckled, patting him on the bicep. “The ump was making some terrible calls anyways, and it doesn’t help he’s an asshole.”  

________

You sat down in the same spot at the picnic table from earlier, and Bucky and Steve joined you, still talking about their loss. 

Bucky took a bite of his BBQ ribs and grabbed his napkin, wiping the sauce from his lips. “It’s a good thing you’re not in charge of the grill, Steve? You remember what happened that one time.”

“What are you talking about? I’m great on the grill.”

“Yeah, but there was that one time, Peggy threw you that Fourth of July Birthday bash at your new house. You were on the grill and had the gas turned on too high and when you lit the match, a fire blaze shot up in the air. Hell, I thought you were going to lose your eyebrows, but Peggy was more worried about the house,” he chuckled with a crinkled-eyed smile, shaking his head.  

“In my defense, it was a new grill,” Steve snickered. “I didn’t know what it was capable of yet.”

“Who’s Peggy?” You asked, glancing between Steve and Bucky, who seemed to be in their own little world. They fell silent as Steve bit his lip, shooting Bucky a hard glare. Bucky looked away from him, shoving more mashed potatoes in his mouth. 

“Story for another time.” Steve peeked over at you, letting out a breath. He moved his potatoes around on his plate as a few different expressions crossed his face. 

“I understand,” you nodded, taking a sip of your drink. 

You knew better than anyone that there was a time and place for certain things to be shared, and this was not one of those times; it was too public. You took a bite of your sandwich, trying to remember if Steve mentioned Peggy before, but you don’t think he ever did. You peeked up at him across the table to see him laughing with Bucky, but it seemed forced. It wasn’t the hand clutching to the chest kind of laugh or the adorable chuckle that made the butterflies erupt in your stomach. It was almost like it didn’t have a sound, but the emotion hiding behind it was there, like a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He was physically here, but his mind was somewhere else. Whoever this Peggy was, she was special to him. 

“Clint and Nat’s team is fucking dominating; 12 to 2 in the bottom of the 4th. They should just call it at this point. It’s tough to watch,” Sam stated, sitting down next to you.

Everyone’s head at the table nodded in agreement. Your eyes started to wander around the park, noticing the whole Barton clan invested in this game. The line to Happy’s Hydrant was still long but moving swiftly. Thor, Val, and Carol were talking with a group of people by the beer wagon, paying no attention to the game. Your focus returned to the table, hearing Bucky comment on Nat’s uniform, forcing Sam to roll his eyes and bring his sandwich to his mouth.

“I’m gonna head back for seconds; do you want anything else? I can grab it for you,” Steve asked, catching your wandering eyes. 

“I’m fine, thanks, though.” You smiled up at him, and he nodded, stepping out of the picnic table.  

Steve stood back in Happy’s line, which was much longer than it was the first time he went through. Drunk munchies, he assumed. He glanced over at you and couldn’t help but smile. Sam must have made a comment about you and him because you smacked Sam on the arm as your gaze landed on his. You waved at him with a playful smile while giving Sam a stern look. 

He couldn’t help but smirk at your interactions with the guys. They were a rowdy bunch, but you could always hold your own against them and put them in their place, even him. Every joke you made, every laugh that escaped you, and every smile you shot his way made his heart leap in his chest. It was a feeling he hasn’t felt in a long time, a feeling he hasn’t felt since Peggy. 

"Is this the line for Happy's?" A guy behind him asked, interrupting his daydream.

“It is, yes,” he nodded, turning around to look at the guy, wearing a Northeast LA police department t-shirt and cap.

“Was your department playing today?” Steve questioned, pointing at his shirt.

“Oh no,” the bearded man chuckled. “We prefer being spectators and drinking.” He pointed behind him to a group sitting by the game with lawn chairs and coolers.

“Nothing wrong with that,” Steve smirked, shaking his head.

“What’s it like being a firefighter at the 107th?” He gestured to Steve’s shirt. “Doesn’t Thor work at that station, too?”

“Yeah, he does. Good guy.” The brunet nodded in agreement. “I like it. It’s both a physically and mentally demanding job, but I enjoy it.” Steve shrugged, grabbing a few extra napkins from the table.

“Same with me, but we aren’t fighting fires or rescuing kittens from trees.”

“If only it was that easy,” Steve nodded, narrowing his brows. “How do you know, Thor?”

“He helped me with a call a few months ago….it was a jumper,” he gulped, putting some vegetables on his plate as they made their way down the line. “I was the first officer on the scene. I was working on talking him down, and then this big intimidating guy from the 107th showed up, had a heart to heart with the guy, and he got down off the ledge. It was amazing to watch.”

“Did Thor tell the guy his wife left him and that he found himself in a similar situation?”

“Yeah.” 

“Thor made that up on the spot.” The guy furrowed his brows at him, not really understanding. “You see, sometimes to calm people down in these stressful situations, we try to find some common ground. In this case, Thor made up the story about his wife leaving him, and it ended up saving the guy’s life.”

“Wait, so Thor was never married.”

“Nope,” Steve smirked, taking a couple more BBQ ribs for his plate. “We do what we have to do to save lives, even if it means making up an emotional story for the victim to know they are not alone, and people still care.”

You glanced over at the food buffet to see Steve talking to someone in a dark blue cap that you didn’t recognize. Steve always seemed to be able to start up a conversation with anyone, even though he seemed like a quiet guy. Bucky snapped his fingers in front of your face, pulling you away from them. 

“Eyes on me, darling, eyes on me.” He pointed his middle and forefinger at his eyes than to yours.  “Stop giving Steve all the attention. He’s the real troublemaker.” Bucky shook his head. “Has he told you about all the stupid things he did when he was younger and how I had to rescue his ass?”

“A little,” you snickered, pinching your thumb and forefinger together.  “And here, I always thought you were the troublemaker.”

“Nope, all Steve. You’d be surprised how often I got into trouble for shit he did. He’s such a punk.”  You couldn’t help but grin at Steve’s back, shuffling down the buffet line. 

Steve hesitated before scooping one more serving of potatoes on his plate. He deserved a few more carbs after playing softball all day and consuming copious amounts of water. “Sorry, I don’t think I caught your name?”

“Oh, my friends call me Jig.”

“Jig?” Steve mumbled, cocking his head to the side. “I bet there is a story behind that one, but I’m Steve.”He held out his hand, and Jig shook it. “I better get back to my squad, but it was nice talking to you.”

“You too. I’ll see you around, Steve.” 

________

“Do you think Cosmo is staring at the door waiting for you to come home? I miss that pretty boy,” You suggested, standing next to Steve watching the final game between West LA Police Department and Fire Station 113. 

“Maybe,” he smirked. “I know he misses you. Won’t stop talking about it.” He shook his head, making you bite back a smile. “He wanted me to ask if you wanted to come over after this?” He shrugged, acting all innocent.  “I told him I would ask, but I wasn’t promising him anything.”

“What...like a play date?”

He chuckled under his breath, eyeing you with his blue orbs. “I guess you could say that.”

You turned your head to the ground, biting your lip. “Yeah, I'd love to, but only if it's okay with his Dad. I know he has a strict bedtime.”

“I think he will let this one slide this time,” Steve murmured next to your ear, wrapping his arm around your back and putting his hand on your hip. You leaned closer to him and wrapped your hand across his waist, pulling him closer to you.

“Where is Cosmo anyway?”

“My neighbor is watching him, and let me tell you, he is not a fan of her. I think if he sees you, he will be much happier, and then he’ll forgive me for leaving him with her.  

“I’m sure he will. If not, I’ll talk to him and put in a good word for you.” You squeezed his side and shot him a promising smile, forcing him to shake his head at you. 

“Thank you.”

To no surprise, the West LA Police Department won with the scoreboard shining 18 to 7. They decided to forfeit after the 6th inning, knowing they weren’t going to be able to catch them. It was a boring game to watch, but you were in good company. 

________

The car ride to Steve’s house sent a chill up your spine and a warm rush to your face. It was a sensation you couldn’t explain. The butterflies in your stomach erupted, and every nerve in your body made your skin tingle with anticipation. You hung out at his apartment a few times before, but tonight something felt different. You sighed, leaning back in the passenger seat, staring out the windows and watching the sky change colors. It was a beautiful sight. You glanced over at Steve, watching him bob his head along to Marvin Gaye. He tapped his hand on the steering wheel as his gaze caught yours and cracked a coy smile, causing your heart to race.

You walked up the steps behind Steve to his apartment on the second floor. He opened the door to let you in, so he could retrieve Cosmo from his neighbor. You stood next to the island by the front door with your hands on the counter, listening to the quick chit-chat Steve was having with his neighbor. You heard paws charging down the hallway followed by footsteps not much later. Under the door, you could see the shadows dancing and hear Steve giving Cosmo a little pep talk. 

“Okay, Cosmo. Someone decided to come visit you, but you have to promise me you won’t embarrass me.” Cosmo whined, and you couldn’t help but think how cute it was. “You’re gonna embarrass me, aren’t you?” Cosmo barked in response, and Steve let out a loud sigh. 

The front door creaked open, and Cosmo charged in, his head looking around the room until his eyes landed on you. He ran over to you with his front paws landing on you.

“Hello to you too, Cosmo,” you grinned, scratching the top of his head. “I heard you missed me.” His tail continued to wag, and it hit the kitchen cabinet, but he didn’t seem to have a care in the world. 

“See, I wasn’t kidding when I told you he missed you.”

“I see that now. Did you miss me, Cosmo?” You crouched down, rubbing his ears, and he licked your face. “Yuck, Cosmo, no kissing.” You shake your head and wipe the drool off your face.

“Did you want anything to drink?” Steve offered, opening a cabinet with glasses. “I was thinking about opening a bottle of wine?”

“Yeah, I’ll have a glass.” You nodded, standing up straight at the end of the bar with Cosmo sitting right beside you, waiting for another scratch. 

Steve grabbed two glasses, setting them on the counter. “See, all he wants is your attention; he could care less that I am here.” 

“I’m sure he still loves his Dad.”

“He kind of has to; I feed him,” he breathed a small smirk, shrugging his shoulder. He grabbed a wine bottle at random from the small rack on the counter. He opened the bottle, pouring it into the glasses, and handed you one. “What’s the movie going to be tonight?”

“Have to check the list.”

You turned to follow Steve to the living room when you tripped over Cosmo, and the wine glass fell from your grasp. It crashed on the hardwood floor, shattering into tiny little pieces. Your hand covered your mouth, feeling a chill run up your spine. As you stared down at the floor, your heart sped up, causing tears to peek at the corner of your eyes. A lump formed in your throat, making it harder to breathe, and your hands started to tremble. You felt him reach out and touch your shoulder, forcing you to jump back and stare at him with wide eyes. In a glimpse, you saw Billy standing where Steve used to be. A sob escaped your mouth as you squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head. When you opened your eyes, Steve was holding his hands up, his mouth was moving, but his words weren’t reaching your ears.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you whimpered, backing away from him.

“It’s okay, YN, we’ll clean it up. It was an accident. These things happen.”

“No, no, I should go. I forgot I had...um...I’m sorry. I should go.” You grabbed your jacket and took off out the door with tears streaming down your face. 

The door closed with a loud bang, causing Cosmo to whine at the door. Steve let out a deep sigh, looking at the door and then at his dog. “What am I going to do, Cosmo?” He ran a hand down his face, walking over to grab his broom.

______

AN: Thanks for reading Part 12! Soooo much happened in this part, so where do I start. I originally thought about breaking this part into two, but got lazy, and was like nahhh! Haha! But what a way to end it, am I right?! Everything was going so well until it wasn't. 😬 What is Steve gonna do now? Do you think Cosmo feels bad about it? Poor pup! Did you like the Stan Lee cameo? Whenever I write a story, I try to add him in since he is the one who started it all! And what did you think about the story of Thor losing his dispatcher cherry? I don’t know anything about snakes, I just googled and this is what came up, so it could be inaccurate, but regardless, I hope you at least got a little laugh out of it! Anyways, thanks for reading, comments are always welcome!