Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

 One, this resume didn’t have previous work history listed, not even a section for references. He wondered if the girl had ever had a job in her life. He looked up at her from the paper.

 She appeared young, though, not fresh out of high school. Still, she should have a prior teacher noted for a reference. Giran circled the blank references section and made a minor note about it.

 Two, the area containing her skills had nothing worth mentioning under it, considering that she walked into an office. She can cook and clean well. If she was applying for a receptionist job, these are pointless things to know about her. It tailored perfectly for a maid or even a babysitter. At the very bottom, she noted she is on birth control. While he felt it was responsible, it was too much information.

 The most pressing issue was that Giran didn’t have any interviews. He considered himself a one-man operation and planned on staying that way indefinitely.

“I hate to break this to you, Miss-” Giran stopped and looked at the name written in the top right-hand corner. “Y/n.”

 He paused, deciding that she must have gone to the wrong address. He looked over the plethora of marks he had made on her resume. Giran considered whether he’d be rubbing salt in wounds if he handed her back the ink riddled paper. Surely, it would be a bit of friendly advice, just in case she got that interview rescheduled. Or would that embarrass her further?

 A hard thud landed on the ground. Heels hitting the wood, growing closer to him, snagged his attention. Giran glanced up from the paper in his hand. The girl sitting in the chair across from his desk had disappeared. The tan, knee-length coat with the faux fur around the collar that she wore inside laid on the floor.

 “Would you like a closer look?” He heard the small voice beside him. His heart dropped to his stomach as soon as he turned to face her. Giran found himself in awe, rendered speechless as he admired the sight before him.

 The thin, lacy, light blue fabric of her lingerie clung to her figure. She stood so close to Giran that he could almost see through it. His gaze traveled up her body, following the curves and lines of her body to her face. He paused at her hips, then chest before resting on her eyes.

 A pink undertone stained her cheeks. Y/n swallowed. “You can touch if you need to, I guess. Sorry, I’ve never gone to an interview before.” 

She held onto his nearest hand with a careful touch and led it along her skin. His fingers recoiled as he grazed her. Giran’s eyes followed his hand travel from her chest to her stomach. Y/n’s entire presence felt oddly welcoming—both warm and gentle.

 He didn’t know what the girl before him was talking about. Giran wondered what this supposed interview was for. Seeing her almost naked figure gave him a few ideas, though.

 Her tangy perfume reminded him of some type of sweetened fruit. The translucent lip gloss made her pale pink lipstick pop. She pulled back a lock of hair from her face and looked down at him.

 Giran’s gaze snapped to the ashtray sitting on his desk. A faint, almost ghostly trail of smoke lifted into the air from the lit cigarette. He pulled his hand away from y/n and reached out. Giran held it in one hand. His skin on his other stung as he pressed the hot cherry against his bare wrist. The pain confirmed that this impossible situation was not a dream.

 “Oh! Are you okay?” she asked. Y/n tilted her head as she stared at the slight burn on his wrist. Her eyes were wide-eyed, her lips parted in shock.

Giran pulled his sleeve over the small, circular burn. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about it. It doesn’t hurt at all.”

 “I see.” He noticed a hint of worry still lingering in her voice. Y/n hummed as she smiled at him, her eyes softened. “Tough guy, hm?”

 Y/n held her hands behind her back, holding her breath. He noticed she had pushed out her chest while also sucking in her stomach a bit. He placed the now snuffed out cigarette back in his ashtray. Giran fought the temptation to touch again. She offered to let him, and she even led his hand over her skin herself. He held in a sigh, settling on what he should say. It was the right thing to do.

 He imagined how she will react. He looked over her exposed body one more time before speaking. “I hate to break it to you, Doll, but I don’t know what you’re going on about.”

 Y/n relaxed her entire body. Her mouth hung open for a moment in complete silence. Giran prepared himself for the worst, screaming and possibly some hitting. “Excuse me?”  

Giran repeated himself. Her eyes widened in horror, and her face deepened into a dark cherry. Tears collected as she apologized repeatedly. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Y/n scurried to her coat. She threw it on just as quickly as she had removed it, if not even faster. Again, before leaving, she apologized, closing the door behind her. Giran didn’t have a chance to either comfort her or ask questions.

 The office grew dead silent as soon as she had left. Giran turned to face forward. His eyes traveled down to the resume still sitting on his desk. Out of everything that just happened, only one thing ran through his head. He wanted to know what she was interviewing for.

 After that faithful encounter, Y/n slipped in and out of Giran’s mind. He’d reflect on how bizarre the entire situation was.

 He leaned back in his leather chair. Giran held a lit cigarette in one hand, and the other tapped his armrest. He was sitting in his office just like this when Y/n knocked on his door. Giran reminisced about how she walked inside with an anxious look in her eyes and gave her resume to him without saying a word. She seemed so shy. Y/n then spoke, informing him she had come in for an interview. The rest of the story was history.

 He wanted to talk about the strange meeting with some of his acquaintances. It would have made for a fun story about how extraordinarily ludicrous life can be. He never bothered. They wouldn’t believe him, anyway.

Giran leaned forward and looked down at his desk. His still closed laptop, and seven identical cell phones scattered along the top of the wooden surface. They had gone untouched since he woke up.

 He rubbed the lit end of his cigarette against the ashtray. Tobacco scented smoke filled the air. He planned the tasks he had to get done. After staying a moment longer in his head, he sat up and returned to work.

 The sun set below the cityscape, giving the office a warm, orange glow. Four of the seven phones on his desk were on with muted calls. Giran typed on his laptop, filling out a client log. He cycled into his usual multitasking routine without skipping a beat. Unmuting, talking for a minute or two, muting yet again, and repeat with the next customer in line. Once one call ended, another would start on one of the unused phones.

 Giran found a moment to stop and breathe. He reached into his desk and pulled out a revolver. Giran rocked in his seat at a slow and steady pace, pulling and releasing the trigger, causing a small flame to flick on and off from the barrel. He patted his blazer, searching his inner pockets for a pack of cigarettes. 

 Giran pulled the trigger as he retrieved a cigarette. This time around, a knock at his door accompanied the click of his gun-shaped lighter.

He held the cigarette between his teeth. Giran glanced at the clock in the corner of his laptop screen; his golden-framed glasses and pink-colored eyes reflected off the surface. It was almost three, and he had no appointments scheduled. “Come on in!”

 The handle turned, but it stayed closed. Giran cocked his head to the side as he watched the door opened. A familiar set of eyes peered inside.

 Giran raised a brow as he stared at the door. How was he supposed to feel about seeing her again? Upset? Confused? Happy, even? It intrigued him, that was for sure.

 Y/n stood by the door, still outside his office. Giran talked in a low, cautious tone, trying to coax her inside. “Hello there. Y/n, was it? I didn’t expect you to come back here. You caught me at a good time. I was about to take a break. Why don’t you take a seat?”

 He motioned his hand towards the chair standing across his desk. Y/n’s eyes followed his lead. She slid through between the door and its frame and entered.

 Giran observed her. She was holding her breath, and her hands twisted the strap of the purse slung over her shoulder. Her posture was unnaturally stiff. This time around, she dressed much more casually—a simple short-sleeved shirt and jeans. Y/n took a seat in the chair. She kept her head forward, but Giran could tell that she wasn’t looking at him. He guessed her gaze fixed itself on the wall behind him.

 Y/n bowed her head. “I came to more formally apologize for, ah, well, you know.” 

She kept her head hung low in shame. Her words were stilted. Giran knew she had to be nervous. He chuckled. Smoke escaped his mouth. “Don’t worry about it. Really! It’s not that big a deal.”

 Y/n lifted her head, but her gaze was still far away from him. He felt awful for the girl. Still, he thought it took a lot of courage to come back.

“Did you ever get a redo for-” Giran paused, hesitating; “whatever you were applying to.”

 Y/n shook her head. She bit her lip as she looked off to the side. Her hand rubbed her arm. “No. My quirk must have been wrong.”

 She continued to refuse to make eye contact with him as she spoke. “It was a blow to my confidence, to be honest.”

 Giran wanted to know the reason Y/n came into his office. However, he steered the subject in a different direction. “Your quirk?”

 “It’s called probability.” For the first time since she stepped inside his office, Y/n looked him in the eye. Her shoulders relaxed a bit, and she lifted her head. “I can figure out the chances of something happening.”

 Y/n stopped talking and reached for her purse. She pulled out a satin drawstring bag and pulled out its contents. A deck of cards rested in her hands. She flipped them over, so he could see the colorful images printed on them. Giran observed her body language. She seemed much more mellow now that the conversation switched to something else. “My quirk pairs really well with tarot cards. I keep this deck with me everywhere. I just love the pictures.”

 She had a small, shy smile on her face. Her gaze drifted down to the cards in her hands. The detachment in her eyes disappeared. Her tone was much more relaxed. Giran tossed her unique ability into the ever-growing pile of things that intrigued him. In fact, he was envious that she had been blessed with such a useful quirk. If it were his power, Giran was sure he could have retired by now.

 “And how did you find your way to my office the first time?” Y/n’s face reddened. She stayed quiet and shuffled her cards, her hands trembling.

 A card slipped from the deck, and she stopped shuffling. Y/n reached down and picked up the fallen card off the floor. She looked at it, as did Giran. He could barely read the words printed on it from where he sat, The Star. That meant nothing to him. The look on her face told a different story. Her eyes appeared serious as she analyzed it.

 She took a deep breath. Her hands shuffled in a way that seemed like her hands were on autopilot. Y/n averted her eyes as her crimson hue returned to her face. “I was so nervous. I wrote the wrong address.”

 Giran figured that was what had happened. She sifted through the deck, stopping at one. Y/n held it up, flashing the card at him. Her tone was coated with anxiety. “The most likely probable outcome was excellent. I was confident things were going to go well. My quirk can be incorrect every so often, but it’s embarrassing how wrong things went.” 

 Giran could tell how uncomfortable she was feeling talking about it. He swiveled his chair side to side as he listened. One question was killing him. “And what were you applying for? A pretty girl like you, it was probably some sort of modeling job, right?”

 Y/n stopped shuffling the deck. Her eyes widened a bit. She froze in her place, like a deer caught in the headlights. Her voice faltered, and her smile wavered. “No, no, nothing like that.” 

 “I...” Y/n stopped herself. She seemed like she was struggling to speak. He watched her flip over the top card on the deck and examine it. She hesitated. Giran noticed her cheeks redden.

 Y/n took a deep breath. She took a long pause, struggling to get her words out. “I was looking for a... a... master.”

 The room quieted down. The air grew heavy with each passing second. Giran leaned forward, folding his arms along his desk. His elbow bumped into his ashtray. He didn’t quite register what she meant. “A... hm.”

 Y/n’s resume made a lot more sense. Specifically, the list of various household chores and mentioning that she took birth control. Giran pressed his cigarette against the ceramic tray, rubbing it against the bottom until his fingers touched it. A black trail of ash smudged against the marbled surface.

 Giran found himself speechless. He’s talked to drug kingpins and a variety of villains. However, Y/n dropped the biggest bombshell he’s heard all month.

“Interesting. Well, Doll, if I knew that was what you’re applying for, I would have taken you.” Giran chuckled at his little joke and pushed his ashtray off to the side.

 He glanced up at Y/n and noticed a strange look on her face. Her eyes were wide. She had a small smile on her face. He raised a brow. “What’s that look for?”

 “Do you mean that? You’ll be my master?” she asked. Hope laced her voice.

 Giran held up his hands. “Hold on there, Doll. I wasn’t completely serious.” 

Y/n’s smile faded away. Her eyes trailed down to her feet. The look on her face made his heart strings knot. Giran ran a hand through his hair. “Surely you were just humoring my joke?” 

She didn’t answer him. He realized how genuine her moment of excitement was.

 He couldn’t bring himself to agree to something like that. Giran was a villain with a highly illegal business. It would be illogical to have her hang around him. A relationship like a friend or a business partner would easily be a liability. For obvious reasons, he had no interest in rotting in prison.

 Giran looked at the young woman in front of him. He thought about her quirk. That was something he couldn’t give up. Knowing the chances of whether business deals are going to flop ahead of time would save him so much hassle. That alone was too valuable.

 For that brief minute, Y/n also seemed excited by the possibility that he would take her offer. Along with her quirk, that was also tempting. Giran spoke his mind. “Couldn’t you find someone a little... younger?”

 There was an obvious age gap between the two. She was young and spry, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed about the world and life. Surely, she should find better than an old man like himself. It could be his cynicism talking, but her offer, paired with her quirk, seemed too good to be true. Was she a sidekick? Working with the cops, maybe?

 Y/n fumbled with her fingers. Her gaze traveled along the floor before settling on his face. “It’s very hard to find advertisements from masters looking for another servant. I’m not comfortable leaving postings myself.”

 While he couldn’t bring himself to pity the situation Y/n found herself in, Giran understood that bit of her reasoning. This city wasn’t the safest. Something bad could happen to a vulnerable young woman if she ran into the wrong guy.

 I have to turn her down. She would be a hindrance-an unnecessary casualty if I ran into trouble with the cops. Those thoughts echoed into his head, played on repeat. One little tempting nugget kept him interested. That quirk. She was a walking blank check. He could almost feel the bills between his fingers.

 “I suppose I wouldn’t be entirely against it.” Y/n looked up, and their eyes met. He sighed. She looks so hopeful.

 His better judgment was screaming at him to change the subject. Y/n piqued his interest, and he didn’t want to make any regrets. Promising this one thing secured a chance to see her again. “I gotta think about it. Why don’t you come back in a week? I’ll give you a proper yes or no by then.”

 Giran remembered something he hadn’t done yet. He got up from his seat and stretched out his hand towards her. “By the way, my name is Giran.”

 His conversation with y/n replayed in his mind. Giran couldn’t get over his skepticism of Y/n’s story. It was too outlandish to be real. He asked an acquaintance who owed him a favor to run a background check on her. In the end, she came up clean. No history of villainy, and no ties with a hero or the police. She worked nights at a little convenience store in one of the shadier parts of the city. She rented a tiny house sandwiched between two homes in such a way that they were almost touching.

 The more Giran felt safe associating with her, the more impossible the situation appeared. An attractive woman, more than half his age, asked if he’d be her master. During his breaks between clients, Giran looked up what that might entail. He read pages upon pages, digesting every bit of information he could find.

 Some days, he doubted everything, convinced that Y/n must have ill intentions. Was this a sexual thing? Or did she just want to do some household chores for him? She showed off her body and invited him to touch her. He figured this had to be some sort of fetish.

 Maybe it was prostitution? He assumed the master and slave getup would give her a slight edge among the others that roam the red-light district. If that was the case, he wasn’t particularly against it. If that’s what she needed to get by, he couldn’t cast judgment on her. A business was a business, after all. Even if it involved having sex with strangers for money. He thought that would make the situation more normal. Giran realized he’d feel much less awkward hiring her for an occasional fun time and then asking to borrow her quirk. However, if she was a sex worker, he dreaded the idea of spending a bit too much money on her. That was a problem that made her quirk not worth the trouble.

 Giran thought he was good at getting a general read on people. She seemed like a sweet girl. However, she was a stranger. Giran considered himself a logical man. He found himself torn. His head was telling him to stop before it was too late. Something else, though he refused to blame his own temptations, kept him motivated to do more research.

 Giran brushed it off. Whenever he thought about the situation, he told himself that it was her quirk before sex. He wanted Probability. Sometimes he had to remind himself of that fact.

 As promised, Y/n returned to the office right on time. She had a bright smile on her face, and her skin seemed like it was glowing. Giran offered her a handshake and invited her to sit down. She thanked him and sat in the chair across from his desk. Y/n folded her hands over her lap. His head screamed that this was a terrible idea. He reminded himself that he had more to gain than lose.

Giran leaned forward, folding his arms along his desk. He tilted his head. “So, what did the cards say today?”

 “Good.” Y/n paused and continued in a much smaller voice. “Hopefully.”

Among the research Giran had done to prepare for this, contracts came up time and time again. As a businessman at heart, he thought it was a fantastic idea. He pulled his laptop close to him and retrieved a pre-made template he had prepared days ahead of time. Giran looked up at her. “How much is this going to cost me?”

 Y/n furrowed her brows and tilted her head. “Cost you? I would not charge you for anything. I have a job, and I can take care of myself.”

 He looked down at his computer and made a note. “I see.”

 “And how long do you intend to stay in this...” he stopped as he wondered what word to use. Arrangement? Kink? Giran returned his gaze up to Y/n, trying to read her expression for a hint.

 “That’s up to you; I was looking for something long-term.” Giran looked down at his laptop and made a note about that. He wasn’t sure what he wanted himself.

 “What should I expect from you?” he asked. Y/n’s eyes darted along the floor. She hummed in thought. 

“I’d be okay with doing most things. Housework, running errands, cooking, fulfilling-ah...” Her face reddened. “Sexual stuff.” 

She sounded just as lost as he was about this entire thing. This was her thing, and that didn’t bode well.

 Giran hummed as he typed her answer. He glanced up at her. “And what do you expect from me?”

 She ran her fingers through her hair. Her lip ran between her teeth. “I don’t know. I’ve never thought about the master role. Use me as you wish. I would like to make life easier for you.”

 “And is this a live-in arrangement?” Giran leaned forward. A sense of dread hovered over him as he waited for Y/n’s reply.

 “That’s what I had in mind.” Giran worried she’d say that. That was out of the question.

 Giran looked at the notes he had written as he tapped on his desk. He had a vague idea of what these contracts were like. Y/n didn’t say a word as he typed. Every so often, he’d catch glimpses of her looking at his office.

 “So, how about this? For now, things will be very lax. Twice a month, we will review and update your contract. That will give us both a chance to speak our peace. I think that’ll be fair, right?” Y/n nodded with a nervous smile as a mechanical whirr sounded from his printer.

 Giran held the still hot paper in his hand and slid it across the desk with a pen. “Sign at the bottom, Miss Y/n. This contract goes into effect at the beginning of next month.”